#danganronpa ultra despair girls x y/n

[aritsukemo]

Danganronpa Another Episode: Ultra Despair Girls 🧡🌺

Last Updated: Apr. 23, 2024

I'm willing to write for all characters aside from Toko Fukawa, Haiji & Monaca Towa! The Warriors of Hope will strictly be written under platonic circumstances!

Full Length Fanfic 💙📓

Headcanons ❤️🏀

Imagines/Drabbles/Scenarios 🩷🎭

Other 🤎🎨

Dividers were made by me, pictures used are from Pinterest, post formatting is inspired by @xxsabitoxx

[frickingnerd]

yandere toko fukawa

pairing: toko fukawa x gn!reader

tags: stalking, mentions of kidnapping, restrains

toko is a delusional yandere

she falls in love with you at first sight and she twists everything you say and do to fit her narrative

toko tells herself that you are just shy and that's why you don't talk to her very often

the two of you only talk at hope's peak, when you meet each other in the hallways

whenever you greet her when walking past her, it makes her day!

and when you don't, she just tells herself that you are having a bad day or that you were too shy to talk to her in front of your friends

the two of you often go on dates together, mostly walks in the park

of course, toko keeps her distance to you then, not wanting to seem too clingy

her favorite type of dates are dinner dates though!

she's not very happy that you keep bringing other people along to those or that she has to sit at another table, but she takes what she can get!

when you eventually tell her that her behavior creeps you out and that you want her to leave you alone, toko doesn't understand where you are coming from

haven't you enjoyed the past months with her? weren't you two happy and in love?

it seems like those friends of yours must've planted some ideas into that pretty head of yours

toko just needs to get rid of them then!

and while she's at it, it wouldn't hurt to finally force you to move in with her

you'll grow used to the restraints eventually…

[nmakii]

‘TERRIBLE FEAR THAT I MAY BE LOSING IT…’

maki • 5teen • chinese • aroace

instagram: @nmakii._ • buy me a coffee? 💞

previously @sips-tea-cutely as mod maki [now known as alastor’s queer-platonic wife ong!]

i write when i want to, but i take requests!! i can write semi-nsfw depending on the prompt

i like to write, anime, kpop, taylor swift, olivia rodrigo, sabrina carpenter, working out, eating, mobile games, and cold places

— my masterlist :)

— major arcana - decide your fate

i write for:

bungou stray dogs • danganronpa 1, 2, v3 • genshin impact • food wars • percy jackson • project sekai • hazbin hotel • helluva boss

my favorites are:

osamu dazai • tecchou suehiro • teruko okura • ranpo edogawa • chuya nakahara • nagito komaeda • fuyuhiko kuzuryuu • shuichi saihara • rantaro amami • tenko chabashira • miu iruma • kokichi ouma • maki harukawa • tsumugi shirogane • kaveh • al-haitham • kamisato ayato • eishi tsukasa • rindo kobayashi • nico di angelo • leo valdez • hazel levesque • bianca di angelo • jason grace • rui kamishiro • mizuki akiyama • alastor • lucifer morningstar • angel dust • stolas goetia • blitzø • verosika mayday

[nabateaprodigy]

This is probably the weirdest request ever but can I request Mukuro, Junko, Komaru, and Sonia with a s/o that turned into a marketable plushy? I don't mean someone made a plushy of them I mean they were transformed into it. I had a nightmare where that happened to me and for some reason, it was the worst thing I've ever dreamt.

Please Don't Turn Me Into a Marketable Plushy!

Series: Danganronpa.

Characters: Mukuro, Junko, Komaru, and Sonia.

Genre: Fluff/Crack.

Reader: Gender Neutral.

Notes: I'm a person who doesn't dream much but even when I do it's usually a nightmare. But this is ridiculous! But like so funny at the same time! But bestie what's going on to be having dreams like this? 😭

Mukuro

Quite it had been suspicious quite as of late Mukuro had noticed. By now she would have expected you to be by her side. At first she was worried very worried that something could have happened to you.

She knew you could handle yourself but even still she was still worried. The feelings of worry would hold merit in time. As the school day had ended and Mukuro had not seen you she decided to check up on you herself.

Mukuro had texted you multiple times throughout the day and had gotten no reply. Strange as you would always reply to her as quickly as you could. This didn't cause her to panic as there are many suitable reasons why you wouldn't text her throughout the day.

Soon Mukuro had made it to your home and let herself in with the spare key that you had given her. Stepping into your home she called out for you. "S/O?" No response.

She made her up to your bedroom as maybe you had slept in or were sick. Although nothing could have prepared her for what she was about to see. "S/O? Are you in there? I'm coming in." Mukuro spoke as she opened the door to your bedroom.

"Mukuro! Help me!" A voice could be heard in the room it took a second to register. But Mukuro was able to pinpoint the voice with her vigilant eyes.

She looked at the desk in your and a plushy could be seen. No wait a plushy of you surely. However, as she moved closer it became clear that the plushy was indeed you.

"S/O? Is that you? What happened to you?" Mukuro questioned as kneeled to get a closer look at you. "I'm not sure! I just woke up like this! I tried to call and text you but I can't do anything as a plushy!" You spoke jumping up and down your arms flapping up and down like a bird's wings.

"..." Mukuro was speechless I mean who wouldn't be?!? What are you supposed to do let alone say something about this?

After regaining her composer Mukuro picked you put and put you in her blazer pocket. "I'll take care of you for now let's wait until tomorrow to see if you return to normal. If not then we can ask one of the Ultimates for help." Mukuro spoke as a smile grew on your face.

Finally, this will be a great way to see your girlfriend in action as she practices her skills as an Ultimate! A smile began to grow on Mukuro's face as she looked at you somehow you looked even cuter as a plushy.

Junko

You were late...very late! Where the hell were you?!? THE JUNKO ENOSHIMA! had invited YOU!

To be at a photoshoot with her and you were late nowhere to be seen. Heck, she wanted you to join her and get pictures taken! Well fine, be that she if she cares! (Honestly, I would say she does care but it's probably causing her despair by you not being there. So it's probably not affecting all that much but you never know with how unpredictable she is.)

Once this entire photoshoot was over she went to your home and DEMAND an answer! Heck! Screw the photoshoot! She needed her answers now! Confused by her outburst no one could do anything to stop her from leaving.

Loud knocks could be heard at your front door. "S/O? S/O? Open up! I know you're in there! You queen of despair demands to know why you weren't at the photoshoot!" More knocks could be heard after she spoke.

But then loud bangs could be heard from your front door. What was she...was she kicking your door down? She's insane! (Now ain't that the truth.)

She could be heard running around your look for you and possibly breaking a few things along the way. She then made her grand entrance into your room by nearly kicking the door off its hinges. "Hey! Stop it! You'll destroy my home! You've already destroyed some of it!"

A voice could be heard and Junko looked around until she saw a plushy that looked like you sitting on the table. "HAHAHAHAHA WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED TO YOU?!?! YOU LOOK RIDICULOUS!!" Wow, how comforting...

Junko spoke as picked you by the head and placed you on top of her head like a crown. "Come on my beloved I'll show you what despair looks like firsthand!" Junko spoke dashing out of your room. Will you return to normal? Who knows...

Komaru

Komaru had spent her day drawing manga and well she lost track of time. While she was taking a break from drawing she realized she hadn't heard from you in a while! She has sent you a text. 'Hey S/O! How are you? Are you doing okay?'

She set her phone down and went back to drawing and expected a response soon. Although as more time passed a response never came. Thinking you were just busy Komaru sent another text.

Although more time has passed and Komaru still hasn't heard back from you. This caused her to worry so she decided to leave and go to your home. You had given her a spare key and let her enter your home if she ever needed anything.

"S/O?" Komaru called out to you as she entered the home closing the door behind her. She had gotten no response from you she walked looking for you. Making her way upstairs she decided to check your bedroom as you weren't anywhere on the first floor.

Komaru knocked before entering your bedroom. "S/O? Are you in there? I'm coming in." Komaru spoke as she entered your room.

"Komaru! Over here!" A voice could be heard in the room after looking around for a while Komaru was able to pinpoint where the voice had come from. It was from you or well a plushy that looked like you.

"S/O? Is that you? What happened?" Komaru spoke as she got closer to the desk you were on. "I'm not sure Komaru! I just woke up like this!"

Komaru held out her hand and you jumped onto it. "You're so cute S/O! This just gave me a great idea for a manga! Come on I'll bring you to my place so we can work on it together!"

Komaru smiled as she held you in her hands. You were so cute like this and she'd have to take pictures! But most of all she can show you how much of an amazing girlfriend she is by protecting you!

Sonia

There could only be one cause for why you were like this now. Like what exactly? Like a plushy yes that's right you awoke to find yourself now as a plushy.

You knew Sonia was good friends with Gundham but this was just ridiculous! Had something gone wrong while they were doing black magic? Or was this something that Sonia wanted to happen?

Well, you truly had no idea and could only guess and wait. Waiting was all you really could do as being plushy had its limitations. On the other hand, you looked adorable!

You can only imagine how Sonia would react to something like this. Oh well, it's not like you would mind anyway. Being cared for and adored as a plushy while your girlfriend takes care of you?

You suppose there was nothing to complain about although this waiting was killing you! Just how much longer would Sonia be? You need to be with her at once!

Click

However, it seems you were in luck as Sonia has now returned! "Sonia! Sonia! Over here!" You called out to her as you jumped to get her attention. Sonia was stunned for a moment but then recovered from her moment of shock.

"Oh my! S/O? Is that you? What happened? You are simply adorable!" Ah, there is was you expected to find you even more adorable like this. I mean you are her partner so of course you were adorable!

Sonia had moved closer to the desk that you were sitting on as a smile appeared on her face. She held out her hands and you hopped onto them as held you gently. "You are simply adorable! Come S/O I have many outfits your size! You must try them you will look wonderful!"

"But Sonia-" you had tried to ask her if you were like this because of something to do with Gundham and black magic. But Sonia had cut you off before you could finish. "Oh! I must get my camera!" Oh well, you'll deal with that later your just happy to spend time with Sonia.

[yandere-toons]

Since you said you were into Danganronpa, what about a platonic scenerio or HCs with the warriors of hope ?

Nagisa Shingetsu, Jataro Kemuri, Masaru Daimon, Kotoko Utsugi, Monaca Towa (Platonic Scenario - "The Good Teacher")

WARNING: references to child abuse, home invasion, implied desecration of corpses, fantasy violence, blood, implied non-consensual drug use.

A.N. - Excuse me while I sleep for a week.

THE NIBBLING OF A SANDWICH being eaten was the loudest noise in the serene classroom, interrupted only by the ticktock of a round clock perched high on the wall above the door.

It took five minutes before Nagisa Shingetsu touched the food you had given him.

His eyes, blue as his horned hair, were lined with dark circles that contrasted with his pallid skin. He had spoken at length about how inappropriate it was for him to eat at his desk when you first presented the meal, but if one looked at him now, they saw nothing but a hungry boy eating his fill.

“It's nice to eat something that doesn't burn my throat,” Nagisa had thought upon tasting the fresh food with nothing hidden inside.

On your desk was a thick folder, the contents of which were so dreadful that you had avoided opening it for the past hour. A part of you wished for it to disappear by the time you looked near it again.

The door creaked open with a cautious slowness, and a young boy by the name of Jataro Kemuri poked his head through the crack to make sure there was no danger waiting to ambush him. The mask that wrapped around his head was a patchwork of leather flaps, obscuring every part of his face but his grey eyes and the straight line of his mouth.

Those same eyes raked the classroom as if worried that he had taken the path he walked every day and somehow ended up in the wrong room.

His mother liked to alternate between rushing to be rid of him for the day and forgetting to drive him here until the last minute. Judging from the half-hour still waiting to tick on the clock, it was one of the former days.

You considered calling out to Jataro but held your tongue at the memory of his dislike for loud and sudden noises, choosing to wave at him instead.

The gesture gave him the courage he needed to nudge the door open wider with his shoulder and step inside. His gaze never lifted higher than the floor until he had shambled up to your desk, but even then, it rose only to the cup of pens and pencils sitting on the corner.

Jataro kept his arms extended outwards from the front of his chest. He had pulled at the sleeves and stretched them until they were longer than his arms, falling over his hands and acting as a buffer from anything that sought to touch him.

Around his shoulders were the straps of a white backpack, the muffled rattles within it suggesting a heavy load.

“You told Kotoko she could bring her own clothes, so I thought maybe I could bring some of my art supplies.” Jataro pointed the top of his head at you when he suggested this, rocking slightly and perhaps hoping to soften the blow he expected from across the desk if he looked you in the eye.

You motioned to the adjacent wall running along the left side of the room, for it faced the outside and had a long window that poured sunlight onto the space below it. “You're welcome to draw all over these walls. The floors, too. Even the ceiling if you have a ladder.”

His head jerked up. “What?!” Jataro draped his arms over his mask, speaking in a combination of a whimper and a groan. “Are you messing with me? Figures you'd pick on me.”

You lightly shook your head. “No!” After peeking at a few of the walls in the classroom, you squinted in exaggerated disgust. “Look at this place. It's all grey and hopeless.” In addition to shrivelling your nose, you curled your lips to form a comical grimace. “We could use some colour.”

A tiny smile graced Jataro's face, and he ambled to the wall you had first suggested. “I'll give it some colour,” he mumbled. The bag slipped off his back, rode down his arm, and landed with a clunk on the floor beside the window.

The zipper on his backpack hummed as it was pulled to the opposite end, followed by the clatter of various tools spilling out around him.

A sawing noise alerted you to the sight of Jataro dragging a chisel across the wall. Chips of paint were bending away from the tool before falling to the ground, and you prepared a lie to tell if any of the other teachers or the principal asked.

Hanging from a clasp around his neck was a knee-length apron, its brown fabric splattered with dry paint and chalk powder.

You delivered a box of crayons and markers to the side of his backpack while he was engrossed in drawing humanoid figures. When you glanced in his direction several minutes later, the drawings had all been outfitted with streaks of crayon and the pungent scent of a fresh marker.

“Hey, teach! Heads up!” shouted an energetic voice.

Your eyes spun from Jataro to a basketball hurtling towards you, and your hands flew off the desk to catch it just before it would have smashed into your nose. You held the ball there for a moment then slowly lowered it with mild amusement.

The competitive smile of Masaru Daimon greeted you from the entrance as the door swung shut behind him, his hands coming up to lay a pair of headphones on his spiky, red hair.

“Gotta be faster,” you chided him in a way that was more playful than it was serious.

Masaru jumped to catch the ball when you tossed it back to him. He winced upon touching the ground, and the gravity of the fall revealed a bruise on his upper arm. Its purple and black colouration was hidden under the black hem of his short-sleeve shirt, its irregular contour matching the size of an adult fist.

You pushed your chair back as you stood.

Masaru was panting and bouncing the ball off the floor into his hands.

It was a common suspicion of yours that he ran to school, one that grew on the days when he arrived hours late with a limp or busted lip. Those days fed into your mental image of the person who gave him the injuries, but an angry excuse was all you got out of him when you raised a question.

His eyes were concentrated on the motion of the ball until you crouched in front of him. In your hand was a small bandage, which you extended to him with an open palm. The smile on his face shrank, but Masaru took the bandage.

“Gotta keep your throws strong, right?” The calm mix of sincerity and encouragement in your voice brought some of the joy back to his smile.

He bared his teeth in a bigger smile and dashed to his chair in the front row as if in a race, but he chose to dribble the ball next to his desk instead of sitting down.

You watched him with a frown that was lost in thought, eventually sighing and taking a seat at your desk.

The door thudded open as it was wrenched out of its frame and pushed to the wall, and in stepped a young girl with pink hair as long as she was tall. Her hands were clutching the strap of a duffle bag, which was decorated with heart and flower stickers.

“Kotoko!” came your pleased greeting. She whipped her head around at your call, a smile of excitement and relief overtaking any impatience when you beckoned her to your desk with a wave of your hand.

Kotoko Utsugi dashed forward and hopped onto the edge of the desk with her side facing you. She allowed her legs to dangle, for her attention was devoted to hugging the duffle bag and looking it up and down with the desire to bring its contents into the morning light.

“Some hall monitor tried to make me open my bag,” she grumbled, rolling her eyes and fiddling with the zipper. Like a candle flickering between light and dark, Kotoko wiped the discontent from her face and turned to you with a joyful laugh. “So I just told him it was girl stuff! That sent him running!”

Joining her amusement with a chuckle and a mental note to find her a more discreet method, you stood up and walked to the door. The hinges squeaked as it opened, but there were no footsteps or voices to fill the corridor. A quick scan of both directions proved it to be empty save for a couple of posters on the walls.

You nodded at Kotoko and held the door open for her, causing her to sprint across the hall to the bathroom.

You leaned back into the classroom to observe the hubbub unfolding in the third row, where Masaru had grasped fistfuls of Jataro's mask and was pulling him out of his seat. Jataro was flailing his arms in helpless defiance.

“Jataro's head is not a ball, Masaru!”

Masaru sounded a disappointed and exaggerated “aw” under the din of Jataro's protests, the amusement in his voice hinting that he had yet to let go. “But it's huge and round like one!”

His fun was brought to an end when Nagisa stepped in front of the desk with his arms crossed. Nagisa wore a stern frown that looked too much like that of a disapproving parent for Masaru's taste, and he gave Nagisa an equally scathing look in return.

“Our teacher asked you to stop.”

While you were focused on the staring contest between Masaru and Nagisa, Kotoko dashed back into the classroom with a twirl and a deep breath of excitement. “I am ready to perform!” She thrust her leg into the air and pulled her arms up in an improvised dance move.

On her legs were long socks with pink and white stripes, atop her head was a horned headband, and she had ditched the slip-on shoes for high heel boots.

From the way Kotoko was patting her hair and reaching out to nothing in pretend monologues, it was like she was wearing new, much more comfortable skin.

Masaru, with a groan of frustration, released Jataro and resumed his throwing the basketball at the wall and catching it when it bounced back.

Jataro sunk into his chair, letting out soft whines and scribbling on his desk with a marker. He trudged to his wall of drawings and slumped to his knees in front of it after a minute or two, and Nagisa watched him go with an inkling of sympathy.

You applauded Kotoko as she bowed for an imagined performance. A chorus of “thank you, thank you” came from her, the fake seriousness of her tone descending into laughter when you called for an encore.

“This actor is taking a break!” declared Kotoko, and she climbed onto her desk to stretch her arms above her head. It evolved into a vocal exercise of lowering and raising her pitch to test her control and lung capacity.

The folder on your desk reemerged as an eyesore as soon as you sat down, and you pulled it open to glower at the curriculum looking back at you.

Nagisa peered in your direction before turning and advancing to your desk. His steps were rigid and deliberate as if he were following a list of rules for how to properly approach you.

When he first reached your desk, Nagisa refrained from making eye contact with you. His arms were folded across his chest, the look in his eyes ranging from caution to curiosity. “Teacher, if I may ask a question.”

He addressed you with the reserved confidence of someone who believed themselves to be in the presence of a superior. You nodded, so he took a breath and held your gaze. “It's nearing the end of the school year. Should we not be taking a test right now?”

Casting a glance around the room, you leaned forward and whispered, “Just between the two of us, our tests are different than the ones they're passing around in the other classes.”

Nagisa looked down and narrowed his eyes, raising a finger to his chin. Still, a smile began to appear on his face at receiving what you had treated as confidential information.

You tapped the thick folder lying on your hand and reclined in your chair.

Nagisa returned to his desk, sitting a bit taller.

After minutes of sifting the endless pages and losing more energy with each word, you craved a break. Your gaze drifted to the chisel and crayons weaving shapes on the wall.

The way your shadow fell over his much smaller body caused him to drop the chisel, the tool bouncing like a seesaw in motion before ending its clatter by his feet. Jataro turned in an instant, and he kicked his legs against the floorboards in a vain attempt to scurry backwards. The resulting thwacks of his shoes on the wood were joined by the flaps of his sleeves as he swung his arms wildly.

With the look of a boy fearing for his life, he drew his arms across his face in a sloppy 'X' position. “I'm sorry!” He said the apology so fast that each one of his words bled into the next as if he were fighting the clock. “I'll get rid of it! I'm sorry!”

The mental fog of reading something horrible was still weighing on you, and you sat beside Jataro with a sigh. “Your art makes the room a lot better.”

Jataro slowly lowered his arms and peeked at you over the top of his sleeves. He turned back to the wall, hugging his legs and pulling them to his chest. “Are you gonna tell me to put it away?”

“No.”

The door opened a final time to mark the arrival of Monaca Towa, her green hair dishevelled and her green eyes puffy. Instead of walking into the classroom hand-in-hand with Kotoko, she was alone and in a wheelchair. The wheelchair, with its silver joints of pristine quality, was lined with a red cushion designed for utmost comfort.

The rest of the class flocked to her side and began to bombard her with questions, while you took a slower approach and glanced at the telephone on the wall beside the door.

“What happened? Have you been crying?” Nagisa had raised his hands in front of his chest out of panic and kept asking variations of the same questions.

“Your hair looks like rats live in it!” cried Kotoko. She balled her fists and squeezed her eyes shut to avoid seeing the ragged hair any longer, turning to the bag she had dropped at her desk. “That's so not adorbs! I'll get my brush!”

Masaru was kneeling with one hand on his knee and leaning from side to side to inspect the wheels, but he soon jumped to a fighting stance. “Yeah! Do I need to beat someone up?”

Jataro was struck by awe at the mobile chair and gazed at it with eyes as wide as saucers. “Why are you wearing a car?” he shouted.

As you reached the back of the group, Monaca looked between her classmates with a pitiful mien but perked up at the sight of you.

Her face brightened for a moment before twisting with sobs as she raised her knuckles to wipe away the tears wetting her eyes. “I,” whimpered Monaca, choking so hard on her cries that she repeated the word several times and panted after each attempt. “I had an accident at home.”

“My brother,” was all she managed to say for an explanation. Its effect ripped through the other kids in a silent wave of fury as though she had given a lifelike description of the event.

You had half a mind to report your suspicions to the principal, but his last meeting with you had ended with him saying, “Don't stick your nose in something you aren't willing to lose your job over.”

* * *

MASARU WAS THE FIRST to jump up and yell, “Done!”

He held the drawing as far up as his arm would stretch, his tight grip wrinkling the paper somewhat. The look on his face was one of pride, and he sprinted to you with the enthusiasm of a runner nearing the finish line. Masaru slammed the paper onto your desk and strutted back to his seat, arms crossed behind his head.

Just as you were preparing to examine his work, the screech of a chair's feet sliding across the floorboards echoed in the classroom.

Kotoko was skipping to your desk while hugging her drawing to her chest, and on her face was a bright smile that grew with each step. She stopped at the front of the desk and clicked the heels of her boots together. Leaning forward on her toes, Kotoko placed the drawing between your hands and covered most of Masaru's drawing with her own.

She bent her knees and twirled her hands in a playful curtsy before returning to her seat. Kotoko proceeded to stick her tongue out at Masaru, which earned a look of surprise and irritation from him.

When Nagisa rose from his chair, he stacked his paper despite it having but one layer. He kept his gaze fixed on the drawing as he made rigid turns around other desks, scanning it for errors and then scanning it again to confirm that he saw what he had seen the last time.

The shame in Nagisa's face grew more apparent the closer he hauled himself to your desk. He held the drawing at a precise distance from his body, and he made sure to drop it onto your collection in a straight line rather than at an angle. “It's not my best work,” explained Nagisa, keeping his voice at a mutter, “but I assure you, I did all I could in the allotted time.”

You lowered the drawing from where you had lifted it to see his work, meaning to remind him that the assignment was not for a grade. It was intended as a fun way of passing the time until the bell rang. Nagisa had heard you when you announced this to the class, however, so your slight concern eased into understanding.

He sat down with frustration and self-doubt gnawing on his face, creasing his forehead and whitening his knuckles.

“Teacher,” sniffled Monaca before you could say anything to him.

Stretching her lips into a deep frown and putting the gleam of a sad puppy in her eyes was a look she wore comfortably, even dilating her pupils for extra effect. Monaca tugged at the wheels of her chair in an apparent inability to make them turn.

As you walked over to help, she stopped fighting with the wheelchair and watched your approach like a helpless infant awaiting rescue. “Monaca finished her drawing, and she just wanted to give it to you,” sobbed Monaca, adding a tearful whimper at the end for emphasis. “But the wheels on her chair won't move!”

You went to retrieve her drawing, but as soon as your hands came near it, the wheels lurched forward so that she could rush the paper into your grasp.

The tears that were threatening to fall had vanished from Monaca's eyes. “You fixed them!” she exclaimed with a happy gasp, clasping her hands together in front of her chest.

The look on your face was a flash of puzzlement mixed with an iota of suspicion, and you shook your head both in denial of her statement and as an expression of confusion about how the sudden recovery came to pass.

During the brief journey to your desk, your head was brimming with thoughts about whether and why Monaca had just tricked you. It muddied your concentration a bit, but the end of the school day was closing in on you.

“Speaking of that,” you remembered, counting the number of drawings on your desk. Just as you were going to probe the classroom for the missing assignment, the scratches of a pencil on paper wormed their way into your ears.

The constant scribbling was the work of Jataro, who was hunched over his drawing as if the rest of the world had ceased to exist. A backpack full of art supplies had spilled its contents onto his desk and the floor. In his hands were a ruler and a colouring pencil, but the excessive length of his sleeves caused him to hold the tools through the fabric.

An array of black and grey colouring pencils surrounded the drawing, their various shades tracing the underside of an eye and looping around the curve of the lips to perfect the shading. The usual wandering of his hands and mind was absent, replaced by the smooth twirls of pencils across a torso. His eyes never blinked as he dropped each tool in a unique place and retrieved one when needed without even glancing in its direction.

You debated whether to disturb him or not, but the ticking clock on your right pushed you to approach his desk. “Jataro? How's it going?”

He stopped the movement of his tools and looked away from the paper for the first time in half an hour. “I'm probably taking too long,” he started to reply, only to fall silent after realising that you were standing over him. The colouring pencil he had tucked into the fold of his sleeve was slowly pulled closer to him as his entire body tensed as if it were doused in icy water.

Jataro was fidgeting in his seat and keeping his eyes fixed on the ground, so you crouched and redirected your attention to his drawing.

It was a sketch of a sculpture the likes of which were fit to hang on the walls of museums and be the subject of crowds and analysis for centuries. The image of a tall figure locked in thought came together among the elements of Michelangelo's David, which were blended with Jataro's macabre twist on anatomy to form limbs that extended beyond human limits and rested at unnatural angles.

The indentations of another drawing were visible on this side of the paper, so you flipped it and beheld a mirror image of the sketch on the front of the paper. The arms were outstretched in a way that suggested they would overlap with the arms of the first sketch if placed next to each other.

Jataro took one look at the surprise blooming on your face and drooped. “I wasn't supposed to draw on the back, was I? I'm sorry,” he mumbled, eyes turning downcast.

The mirror image had all the skill and grace of the original sketch. A part of you imagined the grand sculptures standing side by side, not as pieces of paper but as monoliths carved out of marble and stone.

After giving the room a cursory scan to ensure that none of the other kids was watching, you lowered your voice to a whisper. “No one else thought to draw on the back.”

From his parallel desk on the opposite side of the classroom, Nagisa's head spun around to look at you with wide eyes and a slightly open mouth. He then turned away and bowed his head in shame.

Jataro placed one hand on top of the other, watching you from his peripheral vision when you began to rise.

“I need to look this over at my desk, okay?” You grabbed the corner of Jataro's drawing, but you waited a few seconds before taking it to give him a chance to voice any complaints.

The long sleeves of his uniform were ruffled as he rubbed them together and focused his gaze on the repetitive motion of the cloth. “When you're done, can I have it back?” Under the light cascading down his masked head, you caught a glimpse of a smile finding its way onto his lips. “I wanna sculpt it later.”

With all five of the drawings collected, you spread them out across your desk in a semicircle formation.

It took several seconds of blinking and moving your head around to process all the varied images that had been shoved together in Kotoko's drawing. Among the teddy bears with sparkling fur and frilly dresses of bubblegum pink was you, a sight that caused your eyes to crinkle in bewilderment before earning a slight smile.

You glanced at Kotoko to find her looking at you, and she waved excitedly as soon as you met her gaze.

The lines in Masaru's drawing were hasty and lacked detail in many areas, jumping from one idea to the next without bothering to finish the previous ideas. Each corner was filled with crude images of different sports and exercise equipment, such as a dumbbell in the bottom left corner and a soccer ball in the top right corner. In the middle of the paper was the largest picture of them all: Masaru scoring a slam dunk.

Nagisa had depicted a series of books, with a smaller but more detailed image of himself and his classmates occupying the bottom right corner. The spacing of his drawing was methodical, evenly distributed, and careful not to have anything overlap. Eraser markings darkened and dirtied much of the paper, and a big portion of them appeared to have come from perfecting the smiles worn by his classmates.

Upon lifting Monaca's drawing off the desk to minimise the glare from the overhead lights, you saw how she was standing and holding hands with someone who bore no family resemblance to her. The person holding her hand was a blonde woman with thick pigtails that reached down to her elbows.

On either side of them were black and white bears who stood on their hind legs, their open mouths brimming with fangs arched in a permanent grin.

While your eyes attempted to unfold the mysteries of the drawings, a rumble of thunder crashed outside the Academy. The light pouring in from the window dimmed, and a grey veil fell over the grass and sidewalk outside the classroom.

The patter of rain began as soft plops, growing within a minute to heavier and speedier thumps on the glass. A gust of wind joined the cacophony of nature and swept the leaves of tall trees into a constant sway.

A few of the leaves were torn asunder and slapped the glass, which ripped Kotoko and Masaru out of their seats and to the window in a burst of excitable chatter.

Jataro raised his head to watch the light above his desk flicker like a twitchy eye. “If the power goes out, does that mean we get to stay here?”

Every other head in the room turned to you in anticipation of your answer. Kotoko and Masaru pulled their hands off the glass as they turned to you, leaving faint handprints that evaporated within seconds.

A swell of thunder rumbled as you looked away from the drawings and scanned the faces of the children, which held looks ranging from cautious optimism to intense curiosity.

You set the pen down beside the array of papers and considered many responses before settling on a neutral one. “If the storm's bad enough to cause a blackout, then it wouldn't be safe to send you home in it.”

Kotoko pressed her forehead and palms to the window. Like a preacher, she shouted, “Oh, please get worse, O Mighty Storm! Throw all the leaves and branches your rainy heart desires!”

“Maybe if we all hope for it, it'll happen!” chirped Monaca. Noticing his silence and blank expression, she eyed Jataro with a smile that pushed him in a certain direction. “Don't you hope for the storm to get worse too, Jataro?”

He rubbed his sleeves against the sides of his head, gaze turning downcast and focusing on the imperfections in the surface of his desk. “If I hope for the storm to get worse, the universe will probably do the opposite of whatever I want.”

The smile on Kotoko's face brightened, and she turned around to snap her fingers at him. “You're right! Hope for it to get better.”

Despite Jataro's best efforts to channel a supernatural ability and warp nature, the kids were sent home that day under the pitter-patter of flowing rain and the dim glow of school lights clinging to life.

* * *

THE NIGHT SKY was blackened with puffy clouds that roared and rumbled like distant beasts locked in combat, their shrieks building until a great tension was released in the form of a lightning bolt.

One had singed the stop sign outside your kitchen window half a dozen times in the past two hours. The once cherry-red gleam of the tall sign was stricken with a charred coating, and you peeked through the glass after every hit to see if it had finally snapped in twain.

Beats on your door, a sound you had dismissed as rain or the echo of thunder, were now reverberating through the walls of the house every minute. It led you to reconsider your theory about the source and leave your nighttime drink on the kitchen counter.

Instead of taking another sip, you crept to the entrance and peeked through the peephole.

A flash of lightning illuminated pink hair and a polka dot bow sitting atop it.

The pounding on your door ceased when you opened it inward, stepping back and allowing the door to swing to the side.

Kotoko stood on the doorstep in a white nightgown, her bright hair matted and sticking to her face like a wet mop. She unrolled her fists and retracted her arms from where they had been raised to strike the door. The storm had cast a shadow over the night, but enough silvery light broke through the clouds for you not to miss the small rips in her clothes.

Draped around her shoulders was a dark brown jacket, its soggy fabric appearing black under the relentless pour of the rain. The sleeves hung empty at her side, for Kotoko was hugging it to herself as if it were a blanket rather than an article of clothing. With knuckles buried and turning white from the pressure of her grip, she clutched the jacket with hands that trembled from the bite of the frigid wind.

An unending shiver was forcing itself across her body. The chatter of her teeth was halted by the fact that she clenched them as though suppressing a wail that had been climbing her throat and screaming to get out. The corners of her eyes were crinkled in pain and protest against the tears spilling over her cheeks, and Kotoko ducked her head at the sight of you.

She wore only one boot, the lack of the other leaving her left foot exposed to the cold water rushing through the streets. The lower half of the sock on her left leg was darkened and drenched in a failed attempt to shield her skin. Kotoko lifted her wet foot off the ground and winced as she bent her shaky knee to keep it in the air, holding that pose for a few seconds before lowering only her toes to the cold concrete.

You were careful not to touch her as you moved out of the doorway and ushered her into the house. A brief examination of the street proved that it was empty of all but the waves of rain blowing in the wind, many streetlights having lost their glow. The door was then pulled shut and locked to stop the growing puddle from draining into the floorboards.

Digging her fingers into her hair, Kotoko tore at the bow and hurled it against the wall after seconds of pulling out strands of hair with it. She then collapsed onto the floor and tucked her knees into her chest. Sobs came from her in uneven volumes as she hid her face in her hands, curling up into the smallest shape she could be.

It was a sound both muffled and unrestrained as if Kotoko were unsure whether it was safe to cry or not. Her willingness to weep grew with each second she was undisturbed, and the arms covering her mouth fell so that she could breathe out the full extent of her distress.

After shedding tears until no more came and inhaling until her chest twinged, the breaths rolling out from her were hoarse and parched. Kotoko was free of the desperate outpouring of wails, although a heavy sadness had taken its place.

She looked askance to find you returning from the darkness of the kitchen with a glass of water. You kneeled on the floor beside her and extended the glass, which Kotoko accepted with shaking hands and trembling lips.

Lifting a finger, you pointed down the hall. “My shower is in the first door on the right.”

Kotoko sniffled and glanced at where you had pointed. She drank more of the water, a shudder causing her to remember the soaked clothes freezing her the same way drinking a dozen milkshakes would have.

You slunk into your bedroom and had begun to ransack your dresser in search of a dry outfit for Kotoko. Some of the floorboards behind you creaked, and you turned to find Kotoko following your steps.

A crackling boom from the sky drowned the room in white light. Although the brightness vanished within half a second, the echo of the thunder fed into the constant patter of the rain for many moments after. You peered out the window and witnessed the sideways tilt of the rain as it pelted your home and others across the street, the fat droplets hitting so much like rocks that you worried about the possible coming of hail.

Reaching farther into the dresser, you presented Kotoko with one of your nightshirts. “Are you comfortable staying here for the night?” was your question, and you kneeled to her eye level when you asked it.

Kotoko accepted the nightshirt with quieting whimpers. The shaking of her hands calmed to a rare twitch, and she steadied her rapid inhaling until the occasional sniffle was all that interrupted her breathing. The tears had stopped flowing, their existence remembered by the dark lines tracing the length of her cheeks and chin.

She unclenched her jaw and with it came a sigh of despair about which she was not ready to talk. Her shoulders slumped from an untold weight, but relief poked through as she embraced the nightshirt. “I couldn't be more comfortable.”

* * *

THE LIGHTNESS of your eyelids as they opened without stinging pain or difficulty was jarring. Not having to resist the urge to fall asleep imbued you with confusion, and the lack of an alarm clock blaring in your ears allowed a cautious peace to fall over you.

Just as you were sitting up, a pair of footsteps thundered down the hall and a blur of red and white dashed into the room. The proud face of Masaru jumped onto the end of the bed. “Kotoko said you had eyebags last night, so I destroyed your clock!” The bed bounced as he shouted this, his fist rising.

You looked askance at the bedside table and confirmed that the alarm clock had been reduced to a jumble of torn wires and mangled plastic.

The question of how Masaru had entered your house slammed into you like a brick, and it was forming on your tongue when he sprinted away towards the kitchen.

The buzz of running water came from behind the closed door to the bathroom, followed by melodic humming.

The raps of an active and full washing machine shook the hall, which would have been inconspicuous if not for the curious mumbles that accompanied the noise.

Once in the corridor, the smell of freshly baked cookies wafted up your nose.

You paused and retraced your steps until the laundry room was visible again, losing another piece of calm at the sight of Jataro standing in the middle of the room. His side faced you, but his attention was directed at the washing machine running with a pile of clothes tumbling around inside it.

Jataro observed its spins with wide eyes, moving his head in an endless circle and mimicking the sounds of the thuds. His mouth was slightly open as if he were awestruck by the appliance.

The scent of baked goods was emanating from the oven and the kitchen counter, where a batch of cookies decorated a tray. Monaca, having rummaged through a drawer to slip mittens onto her hands, was pouring the contents of the tray into a green bowl.

Nagisa was standing beside her with his arms crossed. “We shouldn't still be here. We're imposing.”

Monaca tilted her head and straightened the tray before the last cookie had fallen, eyeing him with a smile that held no joy. “Imposing. That's quite an adult word, Nagisa.”

He held up his palms in surrender and gained the shocked look of someone who had been accused of a terrible crime. “You know I didn't mean it that way!”

After a few moments of silence, Nagisa turned away and resumed speaking with a quieter voice. “It's just if the school calls back with questions-” the thought he had been airing died on his tongue, as did his will to discuss it.

You slowed to a stop at the entrance to the kitchen, with Masaru sprinting past you to the counter.

Nagisa looked back at you with a facade of composure that failed to hide the way his fingers dug into his sleeves. The longer you held his gaze the more sweat gathered along his forehead, but he exhaled in silent thanks when Monaca's greeting distracted you from his crumbling mask.

“Good morning! You're up late.” Monaca closed her eyes and chuckled at her comment as though it had a special meaning known only to her. As Masaru lurched over the counter and reached for the bowl, Monaca grabbed it and raised it above her head. “You have to share, Masaru! These cookies were made for all of us.”

A groan of annoyance escaped Masaru, his smile falling. He leaned back to an upright position and crossed his arms behind his head. “Fine.” The word was drawn out in childish dissatisfaction, and he turned his gaze away from the cookies to quell his hunger for sugar.

Opening her mouth to give her smile a more endearing appearance, Monaca balled her hands into fists and raised them in a gesture of cheer. “Monaca baked cookies for you as a way of saying thank you for letting us stay!”

Nagisa glanced at her in a mixture of surprise and puzzlement, while Masaru threw his arms down in outrage and yelled, “Hang on! You said they were for all of us!”

Monaca pressed her index finger to her lower lip and turned her head slightly, looking up at the ceiling with a clueless frown. “Well, it's a gift for our teacher, so it's their choice who gets to eat it.”

Masaru whirled around and narrowed his eyes at you as if telepathically commanding you to grant him the entire bowl.

Nagisa alternated between looking out the window and peeking at you, his gaze darting to the cookies for a split second.

Monaca clasped her hands together and rested them on her lap, and the pleased look on her face was that of someone confident she would be among the chosen.

“Can I have a cookie?” asked Jataro. He had appeared next to you like a ghost from the mist and caused you to jump, your eyes racing to see him looking up at you with earnest curiosity.

On the right side of the hall, a door burst open and carried echoing laughter through the corridor. Kotoko hugged you from behind, the force of the hit as she ran into you knocking you forward a couple of steps.

You regained your balance and struggled to create a way to both diffuse the situation and remove yourself from it. “As great as a bowl of cookies for breakfast sounds, I need to go to work.” There was an unspoken “and you need to come with me” lingering at the end, a request that was understood by Nagisa and cast a look of guilt across his face.

The kitchen exploded in an uproar so potent that every voice was overlapping the others and fighting for vocal dominance.

Kotoko had yet to break the hug, and her fear of returning to a place with other adults prompted her to tighten the grip she had on you. “Anything you need to teach us -- you can teach it right here!”

Jataro began rocking back and forth on his heels, his words squeezing out of his mouth with great distress. “The janitor lady washed my drawings off the wall!”

Masaru stamped his foot on the tile floor, clenching his fists and baring his teeth in a scowl. “No way! That place is for wimps!”

While the other children spoke of personal grievances with Hope's Peak Elementary School, Monaca's yells were shrill and demanding. “Monaca! Wants! You! To! Stay! Home!” She swung her arms and shook her head in a mess of tears and fists.

At once, the desperation flooding the kitchen was redirected to Monaca in the form of complete silence from the others. This reprieve lasted but a moment and soon descended into a series of panicked shouts as her classmates surrounded Monaca, spewing apologies and assurances that her wish would be granted.

You peered at the digital clock on the microwave, and the knowledge that several hours of the school day had passed was your key to the deal compiling itself in a hurry. “If you come to school with me today, I'll buy you all ice cream before we go.”

* * *

CARRIED ON THE SPRING BREEZE were the shrill chirps of Brown-eared Bulbuls and the hoarser calls of Oriental Turtle Doves. From farther in the distance came the raps of a Japanese pygmy woodpecker, its short beak jabbing a twig again and again until it split open to reveal a caterpillar.

The sun hung unobstructed in the blue sky and shone its brilliant light across the lush grass in the park, for all the clouds had decided to hover elsewhere in the city.

A respite from the heat bearing down on them was offered when you returned from under the awning of a truck with a giant ice cream cone on its roof, each of your hands wrapped around a brown cone full of multi-flavoured ice cream. Despite having been lifted from a freezer no longer than a minute earlier, the dessert had begun to melt and drip over the edges of the cones.

Masaru and Kotoko accepted the treats like hungry travellers and splattered the ice cream on their lips in ravenous bites.

By the trees and thickets, under the shade of their lush brambles and leaves, was Jataro. He eyed a bright berry that was dangling from the jaws of a squirrel running up one of the trees. “Does that taste good, Mr Squirrel? Is it like fruity candy?”

The squirrel chittered and flicked its tail, darting into the cover of the leaves once you stepped on the corner of the swaying shadow provided by its tree.

This prompted Jataro to turn around and sneak a peek at the ice cream cone before looking away. “Is that for me? It probably isn't.”

You squinted at the leather mask he wore, and it was then, on this steaming spring day, that your distaste for his mother, who had never shown her face to you, swelled. “You must be sweating under there.”

Jataro nodded and began playing with his sleeves. “Oh, yeah. It feels like my skin is bubbling and popping like a big stew.”

Moving to the heart of the shadow, you exhaled in relief at the immediate wave of coolness that washed over your neck. “You could always take it off.”

Jataro looked as if you had told him art was outlawed around the world. “No way!” He waved his arms back and forth and jumped from foot to foot as though the grass was lava. “If you see me without my mask, your eyes will explode in your head and melt your brain!”

A groan of worry slipped out of him as he lifted his hands to his head, dropping his gaze to his shoes. “And I don't want you to die!”

His foretelling of the apocalypse that would unfold if his face saw the sun was giving him more reason to sweat, so you relented. “Okay, okay!” Still, you mustered a smile at his last comment and offered the cone to him. “At least take the ice cream.”

Jataro wrapped his sleeves around the cone with a quiet “okay” and a timid smile, not caring when the ice cream trickled onto the fabric.

“Teacher!” called Monaca, and you turned to see her waving at you from the middle of the park. She slumped in her wheelchair as soon as you spotted her to appear exhausted.

A third trip to the ice cream truck yielded the fourth and fifth cones.

No sooner than she tasted the ice cream had she pulled back and lowered the cone to just above her lap. With unfocused eyes and a lifeless frown, Monaca turned her head down and stared at the ice cream. “Monaca's favourite flavour?”

There was a quality of disbelief and slight confusion in her voice, but it was then replaced by a tone of hollow emptiness. “Whenever Big Bro Haiji gets me ice cream, he always picks the one he knows I don't like. Then I'm the bad guy for not wanting to eat it.”

The malevolence radiating from her green eyes vanished as soon as she raised her head to flash a pleased smile at you. “But you remembered my favourite flavour!” A laugh burst out of her, one so airy and joyful that it would have tricked a stranger into believing she had never housed a negative thought in her life. “You're the best teacher ever!”

Nagisa had been observing the handout of ice cream cones, but when you presented him with one, he merely blinked a few times. “Who is this for?” he asked, looking around to see if any of his classmates were empty-handed.

“It's yours.”

His eyes returned to you in an instant. Nagisa waited as if certain that he had misheard you, but the hand that was extending the ice cream cone to him did not waver.

On the rare occasions when his father allowed him to eat something that did not prevent him from sleeping, desserts were not an option because, in his father's opinion, they were a distraction from his work.

“Are you sure it's okay for me to have this?” mumbled Nagisa, his tone a combination of anxiety and doubt. “Sugar weakens your ability to concentrate, and if we take a test later, I need to be as focused as possible.” Those were his father's words, although he said them with his own voice.

You kept the ice cream cone within his reach. “No tests today. You deserve a break.”

He gripped the cone with both hands and slowly moved it closer to himself, eyes wide and brows damp with sweat.

Nagisa watched the ice cream glisten and seep as if he did not know what it was or what he was supposed to do with it. A quick look at the way Monaca bit into hers gave him the strength to adjust his hold on the cone, and he squeezed his eyes shut upon biting the dessert.

Holding a hand to your sweat-soaked forehead, you collapsed on a park bench. The breaths sailed out of you in haggard puffs, your arms coming to lay on the back of the seat.

Kotoko and Masaru clambered headlong onto the bench and flung ice cream on themselves and each other in the process.

A whine exploded out of Kotoko at the splash of ice cream that landed in her hair, which drew gales of mocking laughter from Masaru. After pouting at him for a moment, Kotoko smacked the bottom of his cone and caused it to fly upwards into his face.

Monaca parked her wheelchair next to the bench, while Nagisa volunteered to stand so that Jataro could sit beside you.

Nagisa stopped eating his ice cream and gazed at the rapid heaving of your chest. “You didn't buy one for yourself?”

It took a few seconds before you processed his question, and your answer came slurred through a disoriented breath. “My pockets are empty.”

A man shouted your name from across the park. It was the principal of Hope's Peak Elementary School, and his tired appearance sparked unrest among the children.

“Aw, man! He's here to make us go to school!” groaned Masaru, throwing his head back and clacking his headphones against the top of the bench.

Monaca and Nagisa noticed the calculating frown on your face. There was no surprise to it, nor was there any uncertainty in the speed at which you stood up.

“Wait!” yelled Kotoko, pouncing on your arm and clutching it after you took your first step in the principal's direction. “Don't go over to that old creep! Just ignore him.”

Jataro was gazing at his ice cream cone and chuckling to himself. “His face looks like a spider sucked on it.”

The principal called for you again, and his voice was elevated to a harsher shout by a degree of impatience. He would not come any closer to you and your class, however.

You kneeled to Kotoko's level and eased her hand off you while promising, “I just need to talk to him for a minute. We won't go far.”

Kotoko fixed the principal with a scowl as you walked away, raising her cone to her mouth and biting off a chunk of it.

Monaca observed your greeting to the principal with a fake smile. She pondered many a way to ruin his career and sink his reputation until his life was forfeit, but for the time being, she stayed a spectator who enjoyed her ice cream.

Stepping away from the group, Nagisa saw how your head lowered as the principal's lips continued to move. The principal glanced at the kids throughout the conversation, but his frown deepened every time he looked at you.

Just as you were turning to peek at your class, he grasped your shoulder and whispered something in your ear. The message prompted you to droop and let your attention fall to the ground.

Nagisa narrowed his eyes and clenched his ice cream cone, not realising how much force he was exerting until the cone splintered and oozed a dollop of ice cream onto his hand.

A regretful understanding crossed your face, and you nodded before trudging to the group.

When you were close enough for him to hear the grass crunching beneath your feet, Nagisa caught your eye and offered you a look of concern. “Wait with the others,” you said to him in scarcely more than a murmur, trying and failing to hide the way your mood had deflated.

The other children ceased their chatter at your arrival and turned to you.

Your gaze passed from one kid to the next until you had looked at all of them, and their unassuming smiles made the words impossible to speak without great strain. You almost failed to finish the sentence, wishing for a reason to delay it but finding none.

“I can't be your teacher anymore.”

* * *

PEEKING THROUGH the overcast sky, streaks of sunlight painted the road in splashes of red and orange. The cracked asphalt was stained pink from the people lying face down on it.

Most of your body was draped in a tattered blanket that you had pulled over your head like a cloak. The light of the evening sun caught the metal lids of cans huddled in a topless box, which you held to your chest and draped in the corners of the blanket.

The speed of your steps grew to uncoordinated staggers when you reached the edge of your property, and the clatter of the cans was greeted by all the Monokumas on the street turning their heads at you.

Every robot was frozen mid-walk as dozens of red eyes monitored your trek to the door, their round heads swivelling with the flexibility and haste of an owl. The robotic gaze was lifted once you shuffled into the house.

Notes drawn with crayons and markers were taped to the outer walls of the building, and the papers were adorned with childish illustrations of kids stabbing adults. “Stay out!” one demanded in rainbow ink. “No demons allowed!” said another, the first and final letters of the word “demons” having been written as a goat horn and a spiked tail.

While searching for a can opener in the tangle of utensils cluttering your kitchen, the rattle of a doorknob battling its lock brought your mission to a premature end.

On the opposite side of the door was a pair of teenage girls grappling with the doorknob. The brown-haired girl was armed with a megaphone that had been outfitted with an EMP generator, and she was dressed in the sailor-like uniform worn by students of St. Koa Girls Academy. Its white and blue colour scheme was in stark contrast to the dark uniform worn by the other girl, whose deep purple hair matched the purple fabric of her uniform.

The fearful chatter each girl was throwing in the air ceased when their heads lifted to meet your gaze, the dishevelled sight of you peeking through a crack in the door causing them to step back.

A flood of relief then unwound the veins bulging in the neck and arms of the brown-haired girl. The tears in her eyes started to dry, and the desperate grimace that had contorted her face fell to a hopeful smile. “You're not a kid!” she panted as if that fact was the greatest discovery of her life.

The purple-haired girl looked askance at you with her thumbnail between her teeth, biting it slightly.

You looked at their wrists and eyed the bracelets that flashed red like bombs waiting to go off. The black and white face of a Monokuma was stamped on the accessory, and its grinning fangs were all the evidence you needed to begin shutting the door before the girls could explain. “I'm not allowed to help anyone.”

A hand latched onto the edge of the door and pulled against you, digging its fingernails into the wood and struggling to wrench it open. The brown-haired girl stuck her face in the crack and focused her tearful, green eyes on you in a frantic appeal to the kindness she was hoping to reach. “Please!”

She swallowed a lump of panic lodged in her throat and steadied her voice a bit, but her hand continued to shake on the end of the door. “My name is Komaru Naegi. My brother is with the Future Foundation!” After minutes of straining her voice and tiring the muscles in her hands, Komaru rejoiced when your grip on the door loosened slightly.

Komaru took the opportunity to breathe out some of her tension and relaxed her grip as a show of trust. “He can get us out of here, but we need a place to hide.”

With a conflicted sweep of your gaze across the door and what little bit of the street was visible to you, the door opened. The rays of daylight that spilled into the entryway were poison to your sun-fearing eyes.

“Thank you! Thank you!” repeated Komaru, eyes fogging as though she might cry again.

You turned away from the direct sunlight and hobbled to the kitchen. The shadowy areas of the room were colder, and your absence from the doorway allowed the sun to illuminate the many dust particles floating in the air.

“Let's go in already. This street is crawling with Monokumas,” grumbled a low voice.

Komaru nodded with a hasty “right” and rushed to get under the roof. She glanced at her travelling companion then looked at you with wide eyes, lifting her hands to her chest and tapping her fingers together. “Oh! This is my friend Toko.”

Toko was peering around the unclean room with its raggedy couch and chipped paint as if expecting to see bloodstains on the walls and meat hooks dangling from the ceiling.

Komaru's gaze travelled to your wrist when you reached up to open a cabinet, her eyes widening. “You don't have a bracelet!”

“I never really liked jewellery.” After raising your shoulders for a shrug, you lowered them with a sigh. “Couldn't afford it.”

Toko pinched her nose as she walked deeper into the house, rearing her shoulders and crinkling her eyes at the tingle in her nostrils.

The mantel was barren except for a framed picture and a thin layer of dust rolling over it and the rest of the mantel like water. Cobwebs and dust bunnies dangled from the ceiling above the fireplace, dropping specks of grey to float down through the air and draw the occasional cough.

Nothing in the room had felt the touch of a brush or a rag in months, and the musty odour flowing through the halls was so prevalent that Komaru would not have been surprised to learn of mould in the walls.

From the sunken skin to the way you dragged yourself into the kitchen, it was as if you were undead and roaming the confines of your mausoleum.

Komaru found her eyes drawn to the picture on the mantel once again. The people in it were familiar yet different as if she were looking at a childhood photograph of a grandparent. Squinting, Komaru stepped closer to the picture.

The children who had threatened her life were all dressed in the elementary edition of the Hope's Peak Academy uniform, and they were gathered around a much cleaner and livelier version of you. A blackboard was visible in the background, its wide surface covered with drawings and crayon markings.

“Those are the same kids,” she murmured, although it took many more seconds of examining the picture to confirm it. Disbelief weighed heavier on her tongue and mind the longer she beheld their sincere happiness.

These smiles were not born in malice like those the kids threw at her. “What changed?” Komaru asked herself, and the answer came from behind.

“Someone gave them what I couldn't.”

Toko muttered an inaudible name, turning her head away from the mantel and glaring at the floor.

When she heard your footsteps returning, Komaru whipped around and pulled her arms against her body in alarm. She half expected you to scold her for snooping, but your steps were sluggish and unconcerned. You barely looked at her as you trudged past and grabbed the picture from the mantel.

Komaru watched in a mixture of confusion and curiosity as you tilted the photograph from side to side. There was an absentminded dullness to your face as if your mind was off wandering in distant fields, but when the memory came, it lifted the glaze that had fallen over your eyes.

Kotoko had looped her arms around your neck as you held her the way she said princesses were carried in all her favourite storybooks.

Jataro was hugging your left leg and looking away from the camera, a position which had taken several minutes of reassuring him that you would not break out in buboes from his touch.

Masaru had raced around the camera's view in a struggle to find the best and most awe-inspiring pose, and the winning choice was to launch himself off a desk and jump onto your back.

Monaca was sitting in front of you with her wheelchair situated in the bottom middle of the photo. This brought her the closest to the camera, which helped it capture the brightness of her smile devoid of everything but real joy.

Nagisa stood beside Monaca, and for once, he was not crossing his arms. He let them hang at his side and allowed his shoulders to relax from the rigid line he often forced them to make.

After the camera flashed, the kids' laughter was so genuine and carefree that, for one moment, all the bad in their lives had been forgotten. You had collapsed under the combined weight of Kotoko and Masaru seconds later, and the kids dogpiled you in response. “The back pain is worth it,” you had thought at the time.

Looking at it from the depths of your unkempt home with bodies littering the street and robots patrolling outside like prison guards, you could not imagine anyone in the picture laughing the same way again.

A sudden burst of knocks on the door caused you to slam the picture onto the mantel and whirl around in a rush of adrenaline. Komaru jumped and gasped, only to slap a hand across her mouth a moment later.

“Teacher?” droned a monotone voice. The knocks were soft as though something was cushioning what struck the door, and the repetition of the slow thuds brought your anxious stare down to a mindful frown.

“Get behind the couch,” was your instructions for Komaru and Toko, delivered after a quiet sigh of acceptance. You began marching to the door with no intention of stopping, which led to the duo sharing looks of alarm before diving behind the couch.

Komaru and Toko peeked over the top of the couch to gape at how you patted the dust and crumbs off your outfit and straightened your slouchy posture with the swiftness of someone removing a wig.

Toko ducked and pressed her back against the couch, sticking her thumbnail between her teeth. “I knew it! They're working for those brats!” She started to rise, but Komaru clutched her forearm and yanked her down. “Komaru! We need to get out of here!” sputtered Toko, her voice creeping up to a yell.

Even though dread and uncertainty were beginning to crumple her face and sprinkle it with sweat, Komaru clung to the bit of hope still wrestling with her queasy stomach. “We can trust them,” she said with narrowed eyes and such determination that Toko ceased her squirming and glanced at the door. “They won't give us up.”

Your hand was on the doorknob, so the two girls lowered themselves completely behind the couch.

“At least we can surprise the brat if they sell us out,” thought Toko, kneading a few strands of her hair and biting her lip.

Jataro Kemuri was rubbing the ends of his sleeves together in an up-and-down motion like someone rubbing a stick to spark a fire. He looked up at you when the hinges on the door creaked, and the attentive smile on your face was the same one you had always directed at him in the classroom.

You leaned forward slightly, making sure not to glance at the string of corpses and broken Monokumas decorating the street. “How's my favourite artist?”

From the folds of his oversized sleeves emerged a man of odd proportion and funny design. This miniature man was made of twigs, his one-too-many arms and legs sprawled at rigid angles that imitated the Vitruvian Man. The hands and feet were separate pieces of finger and toe bones that had been fastened to the arms and legs by way of string to give the illusion of movement when it was rocked.

The bones appeared unnaturally large on the much smaller body, and their smooth texture hinted that they had been polished by the careful licks of a paintbrush. Their smoothness was so different from the rough bark of the twigs that it was as if two worlds had been smashed together. The memory of life extinguished was there, although it took a far more discerning eye than yours to find it.

The head of the twig man was adorned with clumps of multicoloured hair, which had been glued to the wood with an adhesive that was still damp. It smudged your fingertips with a sooty black as if you had dabbed them in the hearth of a fireplace, and streaks of clotted red dripped from the hair and dotted your palm.

As you lowered the man to look upon his creator, Jataro gazed up at you with the hopeful, starry-eyed face only a child could give. Months of commending the uncanny brought a practised smile to your lips. “Any art gallery would be lucky to have this,” you said with a warm sincerity that concealed the twisting of your stomach.

Jataro dipped his head and tapped his sleeves together, but then a cruel sneer began to spread and infect his voice with a gleeful kind of malice. “I made a demon-sized one,” he started to say, glancing over his shoulder as if about to ask you to follow him somewhere. “But it was too heavy to bring with me.”

A part of you was grateful for this as you inwardly winced at the fleshy display it must have been, stinking of death and decay to someone whose nose was covered by a leather flap.

Listening to you chat with someone who had killed and mutilated dozens of people if not more was jarring for Komaru and Toko, the words shared by you and Jataro coming out like a pair of friends on a stroll.

Toko lowered her hand from the strands of hair she had twirled and raised her head to the edge of the couch. A coppery scent was stinging her nostrils and turning her stomach, prompting her mind to compensate for its lack of a view by filling her inner eye with grotesque images.

This allowed a particle of dust to tickle the inside of her nose like a feather.

The sneeze that followed had the shrill squeak of a kitten's wail, and it was the sole warning you had to lurch out of the doorway.

A blur of purple leapt over the top of the couch with shrieking laughter and a handful of industrial scissors.

Jataro flung his arms in the air and yelped, scurrying behind you to peek out and watch, trembling, as Komaru jumped after the blur and restrained the swinging blades by hugging both arms like a human straitjacket.

“Let me kill him! Let me kill him!” shouted the girl in Toko's clothes, her voice frantic and raspy. She squirmed and howled in protest when Komaru rushed her out the door, and the combination of grunts and grumbles spilled into the street.

You stumbled to the doorway in a hurry to see if any Monokumas were flocking to the noise. A fresh batch of robots swept over the remains of their comrades and streamed out of the darkness of alleys in every direction, eyes glowing the same colour as the proximity sensors lighting up on the outside of your property.

The purple-haired girl, “Genocider Jack” she had shouted as a reason for Komaru to release her, lunged into the heart of the horde and began slicing the mechanical bears in half like a gardener chopping a weed with shears.

Komaru brandished her megaphone and fired waves of blue light out of it, which caused the affected Monokumas to explode in a shower of frayed wires and sparking motherboards.

Recalling Komaru's promise that her brother would come to rescue survivors, you found yourself standing taller every time she destroyed a robot and slumping every time a robot dodged or scratched her. It must have shown more than you meant for it to show because you peered over your shoulder to find Jataro staring at you.

With the confusion and shock of someone witnessing the incomprehensible, he tilted his head and asked, “What are you doing?”

It was then that you looked down and realised you were still holding the twig man. “They broke in,” you blurted, disguising the tension in your voice as fear of the supposed invaders rather than fear of being exposed as a traitor.

Jataro lifted his hands to the sides of his head and looked at the dirty shoe prints on the floor. “Oh no, the demons got to you. Monaca said this might happen.”

Your eyes narrowed at the last part, but you struggled to hide the suspicion from your face when he shambled to the centre of the room. “I'll have to bless your house to send all the demon energy away!”

As Jataro began waving his arms and outstretching his right leg in a series of bizarre movements resembling someone's first attempt at a jiu-jitsu attack, you glanced at the street and noticed the dwindling number of functional Monokumas.

“Oh, Heaven! Change my words to life. Cleanse the home of its demons,” he chanted, stretching the vowels and exaggerating the consonants as if talking funny would grant him divine power.

The street was wrapped in the corpses of fallen Monokumas. Genocider Jack and Komaru had retreated to a neighbouring street with the few remaining units on their tail, and the urge to sprint for the city limits was tugging you closer and closer to the door.

Living on the outskirts of Towa City, a fact that had landed you in the middle of harsh traffic and cumbersome journeys to the grocery store for years, was now a source of immense gratitude. Just as you turned and passed through the doorway, Jataro's footsteps came thumping forward.

He hugged the arm that held his art project and matched your pace as much as his smaller stature could allow. “Getting out of here is probably a good idea,” he nodded, looking down at the rubble crunching beneath his shoes. “Who knows what kind of terrible effects my blessing will have on the world? Probably destroy it, fill it with diseases.”

The mumbles about his breath smelling foul enough to create a fungus tumbled out of him until you reached the end of your property. Here, Jataro let go of you and walked ahead for a step or two before turning back.

A gasp came from him as though he had just solved the greatest mystery of his time, and he flapped his arms with each word of astonishment. “You should come live with us in the sky palace!”

The old spot in your back ached.

Do anything you want with my work, but never make me boring!

[writer-komaru]

thirst of soft dom komaru x fem sub reader please?

Komaru gently laid you on the bed, crawling ontop of you. She cupped your cheek and gave it a light kiss.

“What a good baby you are for me~”

You looked away in response, embarrassed. You eyes widened in surprise as you felt her thumb started rubbing your clit through your panties, causing you to moan softly.

“Does that feel good?”

You nodded, bitting your lip.

“Heheh, maybe it will feel better if I~”

She carefully moved your panties over and used two fingers to rub your clit, using her other hand to carefully rub your hole. You whined in response.

“Shhhhh, it’s okay, I’ll go slowly.”

“She carefully pushed her lubed finger into your hole, causing your back to arch off of the bed. Her finger could go so deep, it just felt so, so good~

You slowly began humping her hand, you mind desperately trying to cum. She other have you another kiss, chuckling softly.

“If you want to cum, sweetie, you can at any time.”

Suddenly, she took her fingers away from you, causing you to whine form the loss of stimulation. But, you watched as she lowered her face to your clit, giving it small kitten licks.

“Ahh, ‘maru, please!”

“Okay, anything for you, baby.”

She pushed her face tight against your cunt, eating you out as I fit was her last meal, but gentle enough so it didn’t hurt you. Your shaky hands reached down and grabbed her hair, pulling on it lightly. You felt so close, just a little more. And as soon as you felt her tongue push into your hole, you let out on last cry and you came on her face. She always knew exactly how to make you feel good and safe at the same time~

[letters-from-your-fo]

To: Y/n

From: Amber

《↬.•.•✿•.•.↫》

Dear Y/n,

Welcome, my dear, to my blog! This is a writing blog themed around either fictional characters or my ocs writing to you or your oc! This is mostly focused on love letters from your f/o but I will take other requests not centered around romance! Do note that I center around romance due to the fact that my specialty is writing romance.

Here is my Masterlist!

Here is my Oc List!

I go by Amber and Jonas and I’d really appreciate it if you used both names for me! I identify as genderfluid and a trans man; male, female, and nonbinary; and my pronouns are He/They/She. I’d really appreciate it if you mix up my pronouns/gendered terms when referring to me (ex: “Where are they, I saw them a while ago? Actually, I think he might be in his room. She’s always on her computer writing something.” or “He’s in here, but they’re too busy on her computer writing something.”) but if you must refer to me with one set of pronouns, I prefer they/them or he/him rather than just she/her.

My main blog is @selfshipping-shapeshifter and you should go follow it if you're interested! I chat with mutuals there and post about my f/os and ocs! 

I also have a few writing blogs: 

@self-shipping-selfcare where I write x Reader oneshots and headcanons (my main writing blog)

@gt-cafe where I write exclusively Giant/tiny oneshots (both original works and fanfics)

@your-yandere-darling where I write exclusively yandere oneshots and headcanons (with fictional characters, my ocs, and/or just a yandere character type)

@fnaf-edits where my friend and I post exclusively Fnaf (he does edits, matchups, and kin assignments and I write oneshots and headcanons)

✎.⋆I Will Write⋆.➳

Romantic letters

Platonic letters

Letters filled with fluff

Letters filled with angst

Letters from multiple characters

Letters from yandere characters

Letters to the reader

Letters to/from my ocs

And letters to your ocs

✎.⋆I Won’t Write⋆.➳

Character x Character (sometimes, ignoring polyamory)

YouTubers/Celebrities

✎.⋆Fandoms I Write For⋆.➳

A Monster in Paris

At Dead of Night

Beastars

Bendy and the Ink Machine/Bendy and the Dark Revival

Call of Duty Zombies (Primis and Ultimis Richtofen only please)

Cuphead

Danganronpa

Detroit: Become Human

Doki Doki Literature Club

Five Nights at Freddy's

Hazbin Hotel/Helluva Boss

Homegrown Pet

John Doe Game

Portal 2

Puss in Boots The Last Wish

Red Shoes and the Seven Dwarfs

Scrutinized

Skyrim

Spooky Month

Super Mario Bros Movie (Bowser only please)

Team Fortress 2

The Bad Guys

The Great Mouse Detective

Trapped With Jester

Undertale/Deltarune

Villainous

Yandere Simulator

Your Boyfriend

And maybe more I can't remember at the moment (please don’t hesitate to ask me if there’s a certain fandom I’ll write for, because I believe I write for more than this but I can’t remember all my fandoms)

✎.⋆Other Rules You Should Know⋆.➳

If you’re requesting something from Call of Duty Zombies, I’m still learning the lore and everything and I only write Richtofen as of now

For Danganronpa, I’ll write for the games only. I haven’t seen the anime yet, reason why I can’t write for it. I’ll also write for any character except Celeste and anyone from the anime and Ultra Despair Girls. My favorite characters to write for are Teruteru and Hifumi

For the Super Mario Bros Movie, I’ll only write for Bowser for right now

For Villainous, I haven’t seen the show yet but I have seen the shorts so I won’t write for anyone from the show only yet

I have the right to reject a request for whatever reason (I think I can’t write it, it’s not a fandom I’m in, I’ve already written something too similar to it, I’m uncomfortable with it, etc) and I might either answer your ask politely rejecting your request or I just delete the ask

If I'm obsessed with a certain fandom I'll be more focused on writing for it but I don’t mind if you request something from a different fandom (though I prefer if you request something from the fandom(s) that I’m currently obsessed with)

I’m a lazy procrastinator who fears I won’t be good at interpreting the characters well. It might take a while for me to finish your request because I either procrastinated, didn’t know how to write the character you requested, or both. Another reason why I wouldn't finish a request quickly is because I had a lack of motivation and/or inspiration which has been happening a lot recently, so if your request takes longer from that then I sincerely apologize

Please be specific when requesting something, if you aren't specific I'll assume you're fine with something random. And for polyamorous relationships, please specify the relationship (ex: Is Character A and Character B dating each other and the reader or are they simply friends who are both dating the reader?)

Crossovers are welcome here, the only rule is it has to be in my list of fandoms. You can still ask me if I know a certain TV Show/movie/video game/book/anime. If you request anything anime, chances are I don’t know it since I haven’t seen a lot of anime. I want to watch more, though (at some point)

Please be respectful and I hope you enjoy your time here!

Sincerely, Jonas~♡

《↬.•.•✿•.•.↫》

[ao3feed-danganronpa]

How To Break A Heart (Danganronpa x Reader Oneshots)

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/ftMJ1nU

by M1chelle124

DR1 DR2 DR3 Ultra Despair Girls/ Summer Camp

Girls & Boys

-Game & Anime

{Gender mentioned a the start of the story}

Characters are in alphabetic order!

Anyway, have fun!

Words: 42652, Chapters: 51/51, Language: English

Fandoms: New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing, Super Dangan Ronpa 2, Dangan Ronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc, Dangan Ronpa Another Episode: Ultra Despair Girls, Dangan Ronpa Series

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: Multi

Characters: Oma Kokichi, Owari Akane, Togami Byakuya, Celestia Ludenberg, Fujisaki Chihiro, Tanaka Gundham, Hinata Hajime, Monokuma (Dangan Ronpa), Enoshima Junko, Akamatsu Kaede, Momota Kaito, K1-B0 (Dangan Ronpa), Iruma Miu, Harukawa Maki, Shinguji Korekiyo, Naegi Makoto, Oowada Mondo, Komaeda Nagito, Monodam (Dangan Ronpa), Nidai Nekomaru, Amami Rantaro, Sonia Nevermind, Saihara Shuichi, Hanamura Teruteru

Relationships: Characters/Y/N

Additional Tags: Love, Love Confessions, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Falling In Love, Idiots in Love, Love/Hate, Love at First Sight, Friendship/Love, True Love

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/ftMJ1nU

[dangan-tiki-bar]

Hey mod Taeko! Can I request some headcanons with Masaru and Monaca with the reader treat them like their are the reader's child?,like the reader and Masaru/Monaca are not related to them but the reader is so attached to them to the point to considered them their on child and the reader can sacrifice their own life for them. I hope this isn't a problem but can I be 🧃 anon? Take care of yourself! Bye bye! :D

MASARU & MONACA WITH A PARENTAL LIKE READER.

mod taeko ;; ooh, my first WoH request ! of course you can be 🧃 anon ! i hope you take care of yourself as well !

WARNING ;; angst, panic attacks, spoilers for their pasts, mentions of abuse & neglect, self harm in masaru's part, & manipulation/gaslighting (?) on monaca's part. dear god, sm warnings ...

MASARU DAIMON

why the hell was a demon sucking up to him ? he would scoff every time he thinks about it and how you would act so ... kind. it threw him off.

how you would offer to bandage his wounds every time he got hurt, how you would offer to make him his favorite foods, how you always suggested playing video games with him to distract him when he remembered his past, how you'd supervise him when he went demon hunting, and how you even tried to participate in his hobbies alongside him ...

you had to be sucking up to him because he was the WoH's most powerful and fearless leader, right ? ... right, of course he's right ... so then why does your smile seem so genuine and bright ? how do you manage to fake being so caring in your position ?

he's always getting mistaken for/called the bossy brat who's an idiot - and while it may take him awhile to notice something rather than the others who do so faster - he's not dumb. he's not an ultimate for nothing and most certainly not just for his physical skills.

so when he notices and deduces your behavior to being ... caring and protective out of all things after a long while, he's still cautious and confused.

he'll confront you with his usual hot headedness (is that a word ? LMAO) and point his finger in your face, aggressively asking you why you keep doing such things. he's partly angry, but that's mainly because he's extremely confused and it annoys him.

when you tell him that he deserves a second chance and didn't deserve the treatment he got, he freezes and stares at you in confusion, a mix of emotions evident on his face as he grabs his hair and sweat drops with a nervous grin on his face.

"w-what are you talking about, you d-demon ... ? i-i don't ... it's not like i ... i c-care ..." he'll manage out while taking a few steps back, beginning to tremble, his face once again contorting to anger when he realizes he's shaking.

"what the ... ? no - i'm not scared ! i-i'm not scared, i'm not scared, i'mnotscared, i'mnotscaredi'mnotscaredi'mnot-"

at this point, he turned his back to you, repetitively hitting one of his arms with tears streaming down his face until he saw that his arm would stop shaking, shrieking when he felt you come up from behind him and gently grab his arms after the first few hits.

"what ... ! s-stay away from me, demon ! g-get away from me !" he'd shout while struggling in your grasp before eventually falling limp against your chest when he didn't have the strength to fight back any longer, confused as to why you hadn't already hit him or - well, killed him.

you began stroking his hair as he hesitantly buried his face in your chest, overwhelmed by your nurturing presence before silently sobbing with his face hidden away from you.

"why do you ... why do you care ..." he sniffled, absentmindedly leaning into your touch. were some demons really ... not ... demons ?

after inspecting masaru's bruises and giving him a bunch of affection, the following day he somewhat goes back to his usual rowdy behavior. however, he's noticeably softer and kinder to you - just when none of the other WoH are around.

he'd scold any of the others if they put you in harm's way, telling them to not mess with "lord masaru daimon's slave or else he'll smite them" ... he then went on to lean in your direction and ask you what the word smite even meant in a whisper 🤦‍♀️

he wakes you up really early by jumping on your bed energetically. not to be mischievous, but because he's excited someone is actually kind to him and nutures him. he wants to spend almost all his time with you doing things he never could before. it's really sad ... brb, mod taeko is crying.

but, yes, in conclusion - masaru is "secretly" babie and is hyped to be around you. he sometimes falls back into his old habits which is a given, such as stealing things, beating himself up physically, flinching away from you (especially when you're angry or upset), nervously smiling so that you don't hate him like he did with his dad - but he always tears up just a bit and looks like a sad puppy when he realizes you're not the same.

you actually care about him and his wellbeing. that realization itself made him choke back on a sob.

MONACA TOWA

monaca is an extremely intelligent girl despite her age. however, although she's smart, she's still a kid all at the same time. it can be hard to remember this with how confusing her behavior and actions seem.

monaca catches on to your behavior pretty fast. at first, she’s simply amused, playing along to see if you have any unknown motives and/or if you’re trying to deceive her like a fool, but when she realizes that your behavior and actions are genuine - she admittedly gets pretty taken aback.

“monaca doesn’t know why a demon such as yourself is being so kind to her, meow !” she admits with her mischievous and childish giggle following afterwards, glancing up at you from her wheelchair with her “innocent” doe eyes.

even though she's small, a bit frail, and in a wheelchair, she's still terrifying. more so because of her mysterious aura and unpredictable actions.

though she calls you out on your behavior, plays dumb, continues to try and manipulate you like she does with the others, and acts pretty indifferently towards you, you've begun to grow on her like a leech - and it's slowly beginning to annoy her.

she'll try to get you to go away by threatening you with any blackmail she can get her little grabby hands on, but you just. won't. go. away.

"why ! are ! you ! so ! per - sis - tent !" she practically shrieks when she finally snaps one day and confronts you, slamming her fists against her armrests on her wheelchair.

when you tell her it's because she deserves a second chance and she's not as bad as everyone makes her out to be, pure shock takes over her face and she sweat drops, little hands beginning to tremble while she digs her nails into the cushions of the armrests.

she quickly regains her composure though - or at least tries to, smiling as she sweats visibly and continues to shake like a leaf in the wind. she can't breakdown now. she has to make big sis junko proud of her.

"what are you ... ! ... what are you talking about, silly ? are you just saying that because you feel bad for me ? why would a demon like you feel bad for me when you demons are the reason i'm like this ?" she giggles with a menacing closed eyed smile, backing up slowly in her wheelchair.

she's been the unwanted child all her life. these emotions ... are so foreign to her. it's overwhelming. she's not sure how to deal with this. she's not sure if she even can.

when you come towards her to try and reassure her, she's unsure of how to react, grinning nervously as she's backed up into a wall now. you were going to hurt her now, weren't you ? she pissed you off and got you to snap and you were going to finally take it out on her, right ?

she contemplates getting out of the wheelchair to run, but you end up hugging her which leaves her confused and shocked for the millionth time.

tears slowly begin to fall down her face as she hesitantly reciprocates the hug, once again overwhelmed - but now because of how gentle your touch is.

"w-why do you care for me ... i've hurt so many people ... and my friends ..." she'd mumble into your shoulder, clinging onto your arm/sleeve. monaca tries to keep quiet and not sob, but tears are streaming like waterfalls from her face.

when you reassure her that she's not a bad person, just someone who needs help and deserves so much better, she hiccups and chokes back on a sob, wailing into your chest. eventually, all the crying takes a toll on her, and she ends up falling asleep against you.

that night, you got to tuck in a genuinely peaceful and relaxed monaca as she begged you while being half asleep to not leave. if you tell her in the morning what she said, she'll deny it was out of care with a sinister smile and simply state it's because she can't have you telling everyone she cried, but we both know the truth.

after that confrontation, monaca is a lot more open and noticeably sweeter & soft towards you. she doesn't say it often and most of the time denies it, but she tries to express it through acts of service.

she bakes you lots of cookies ! the warriors of hope always complain about who will taste her cookies first, but she simply snickers at them, giggly and bubbly as she tells them that they're actually for you.

they'll all groan when she presents them to you or you two cook/bake in the kitchen together, jealous that you get to taste her cooking/baking first before any of them.

she'll become extremely terrifying to anyone who dares to lay a hand on you in a harmful way. she'll threaten to send her robots out to get them with a little innocent chuckle and a closed eyed smile. or she'll hold a knife herself and make stabby motions with a smile. either one works.

at the end of the day, as much of a menacing gremlin she can act like at times, she can be pretty loving and caring, too. she just needs someone with patience for her to open up and help her get out her bad habits and old ways.

[angelictrl]

if i made a yttd and/or danganronpa dating sim, would y’all play it /gen /srs

and who would you like to see the most ??

[aritsukemo]

Danganronpa Masterpost 🖤🤍

Links to all of my Danganronpa-related works!

Danganronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc 🤎🔪✨

Danganronpa 2: Goodbye Despair 💛🌴

Danganronpa V3: Killing Harmony 💜🔪

Danganronpa Another Episode: Ultra Despair Girls 🧡🌺

Dividers were made by me, pictures used are from Pinterest, post formatting is inspired by @xxsabitoxx

[frickingnerd]

gifting komaru concert tickets

pairing: komaru naegi x gn!reader

summary: you get komaru tickets for sayaka's concert!

"close your eyes!"

"y/n, you are making me nervous!"

"komaru, i'm not going to scare you or anything. just trust me and close your eyes~"

"f-fine…"

komaru closed her eyes, covering her face with her hands, as she carefully listened to the noises you made. it sounded like you were going through your bag, searching for something. komaru couldn't even begin to think about what you could've possibly brought with you. the suspense was killing her! 

"alright, you can open them again!"

komaru hesitantly removed her hands from her face, before her eyes wandered all over you, spotting the paper in your hands. 

"ta-da!"

you held up the concert tickets, waving them in front of komaru's face, resulting in her grabbing your wrist and hold your hand still, so she got to get a better look at them. and that's when she noticed…

"tickets for sayaka's next concert!?"

your girlfriend's face lit up as you nodded. 

"y/n… that's– how? how did you manage to get them?"

"well, i camped the ticket shops website for hours! but it was worth it…"

komaru squeaked excited, before wrapping her arms around you and pulling you into the tightest hug she could muster. 

"you are the best…!"

[m-y-fandoms]

Blood on Our Stage - Vampire Nagito Komaeda x Human Female Reader -Part 1 (Slight/Platonic Female Reader x Hajime Hinata)

So, this is an old fic I updated to fit these characters because I want to continue it :)

NEEDED CONTEXT FOR THIS AU: Hajime and Nagito are step brothers, (Y/N)/Reader is a human, Hajime and Nagito are vampires, and Hajime did indeed get into the Main Course at Hope’s Peak, for acting.

The paycheck… It's all about the paycheck...

   You took a deep breath, reassuring yourself for what seemed like the hundredth time that year… or that hour.

Smile, s-smile. Breathe, lean into him. It has to look real, (Y/N). God… it’s a whole new level of crackhead when you stutter to yourself in your thoughts.

 Dissociate. 

What are we having for dinner? How many more steps ‘til that damn egg hatches? If it’s another fucking Diglett I swear I’ll go apeshit. 

You shifted to your right, the most forced of grins creeping onto your cosmetic-plastered face. You let your head fall onto Hajime’s shoulder. Convincing right? Touching is convincing. Random gentle displays of affection are convincing... 

By this time, you were nearly blind from the flash of some fifty or so cameras in your face, anyway, so why not just pretend that the photographers and press were blind as well?

  Why not, why not?

 You pretended in every other aspect of your life.

"Isn't that right, (Y/N)?" Hajime’s voice shook you out of your trance, and you turned your head, letting go of his arm, which you had grabbed out of habit. His sparklingly white teeth - sharper than the average man's - gleamed down at you, and you felt that usual pang of fear run down your spine and chill your bones. Even attached to the gums of the sweetest boy on earth, you’d never get used to the sight.

It's all a show, (Y/N), a game. Pretend. "Fangs for the fans, and all that" 

How long would that farce last until people started to realize?

  What had Hajime said earlier that month? You retreated into yourself, thinking deeply, trying desperately to calm the anxiety that rose with at the sight of his flesh-tearing canines...

   _______________________________________________________________

"I can bare my fangs at interviews, photoshoots… you know, when the paparazzi are around. It’s what my dad wants,” he sighed, shaking his head. “Don't worry about it, (Y/N). Honestly, you freak out over the silliest things sometimes.” He ruffled your hair. “It will look like I'm dedicated to the role, or something like that… whatever. People will love it, trust me."

      ___________________________________________________________

But you never could. How could you? A monster with a secret, stupidly displaying that secret openly to the world? No… trusting meant removing little stones from that carefully built wall, which sub-sequentially meant getting hurt, and not just emotionally. You recited this mantra to yourself almost routinely; something you’d picked up from someone very close to your heart. Isn’t it funny how we steal little bits of personality from those we love most?

You knew Hajime just followed whatever his father commanded, that he’d do anything to feel like he mattered, that people cared. He’d done all this: the acting lessons, depending on daddy’s money, the unless studying and promoting himself, just to get into that stupid school and kickstart his illustrious career.

"Isn't that right, (Y/N)??" Hajime tenderly brought his hand up, stroking your shoulder awkwardly. The clench in his jaw, however, wasn't friendly at all. You couldn’t really blame him, though. He was doing it for your sake, after all. You had to get through this, and he knew he had to pull you through; everything depended on it.

How could this flock of idiots not tell the “chemistry” was forced???

"Uh… o-of course! Yeah!" You smiled, a fake chuckle escaping your lips, and the crowd of reporters and internet journalists roared in front of you. Of course they did… wasn't everything the disciplined and people-pleasing boy beside you said fucking hilarious? You sighed, returning your gaze to the mass of people below you as you and your leading man sat raised on a platform behind a pretentiously high table.

    Just let Hajime handle all the questions, you thought to yourself indifferently. You always did. They rarely directed them at you specifically, anyway. So much for your dream: to stun the world as an independent starlet, a crimson-hot femme fatale. It was always ‘Hinata Hajime’s doe-eyed leading lady!’, ‘Hajime’s little love interest!’, never ‘(Y/N) (L/N)... featuring Hajime Hinata!’ But... you were famous, and with no little chunk of change to boot… you should’ve been thankful… right?

So why weren’t you…?

  Your eyes scanned the faces before you, and you realized that you hadn't… really looked at them until now. Yes, the usual prolific online bloggers and huge theatre junkies were there, and Mr. Hinata of course. He wouldn't miss out on one of his company’s press meetings for the world, especially with his money-making beloved son in the spotlight. He was so anal, how could anything possibly go off without a hitch unless he was there?

You wondered if the girl next to him knew he was a ravenous monster as well, but thought better of it. Of course, she didn't know. You shouldn't have even known. But you did, and it plagued you every day of your life.

  Fuck... you just wanted to go back to your room and overthink in peace. It was embarrassingly uncomfortable to do so in public

Mr. Hinata sat sternly upright, with his polished, slick hair, in his polished, slick shoes and extravagantly tailored navy suit, his secretary at his side, brushing his hand unnoticeably between the chairs. His wife would never care, anyway. To their right sat a rosy-cheeked intern, spunky and full of character. Holding a clipboard between perfectly painted nails, the only thing that spoke louder than her bright smile was her neon miniskirt. She must not have known, either. No human simply knew, and still managed to look that innocent and lively. The PR girls loved press conferences, and each new show only yielded fresh publicity. This most recent show, set to premiere the following night, was a tale of romance: A vampire lord and his human lover: a medieval era period piece. Of course, for this reason, Hajime did nothing to hide his all-too-real fangs. 

You loved a good historical romance, and loved being in one even more. It had always been your goal as a starting actress to take the lead in at least one period play, be it Victorian, colonial, medieval.. but... it had not turned out quite the way you planned...

   A few other members of the Hinata family accompanied their revered head of  the household… or was it head of the clan… coven? Whatever, it was expected. The murderous bloodsuckers always clung to their leader’s side, and could always be found lurking around Hinata’s estate, if they weren’t already crammed up his ass looking for approval.

A flash came from the reporter to the left, directly into your vision, and left you dazed.

 Fuck… you seethed internally. Calm down. Calm down. The paycheck. That's it. This is almost over, anyway. Why did you always find yourself spacing out at the worst possible times? You acknowledged that it was how your body coped with the overwhelming urge to break down, but damn if it wasn’t inconvenient at the minute. Nothing screamed ‘I have something to hide’ like acting shady in front of a hundred people…

You leaned into Hajime again. Sell the relationship. Sell the love.

You exhaled in exhaustion. It wasn’t that you didn’t love Hajime… you did, just, not like this. Never like this. Lying to millions of fans and the press, pretending Hajime was anything other than a brother-like figure to you just to line his father’s pockets, tore you apart more than keeping his immortality a secret. Denying you both a chance at real love for fear of scandal… you were sure that there was no phrase you’d ever grow to hate more than “The Hinata Theatre Company!” Ironic, wasn’t it, that at one point in time, you begged to be here?

You found that scoping out a crowd lowered the anxiety you had about actually being in front of them. It's funny, many people asked how you could possibly be afraid of crowds or public speaking when you were a damn Broadway-level star. Your answer was always the same: your rush of adrenaline and passion for theatre got you through a show, but anywhere else but on that stage, and a crowd turned your mind to jelly. It was different… walking out for a performance tamed the butterflies that flew around inside your stomach.

  Of course, there was always the fact that your boss could tear you apart at a moment’s notice that contributed to the anxiety, but you obviously couldn't share that little bit of information with anyone. It was all so hard to process, that this kind young man beside you could be something so fearsome, that your whole life was a public sham. You’d never forget the day you’d found out… how it changed everything. You shouldn’t have to be afraid of your best friend, you just shouldn’t. But how could you ever truly trust him again?

Your eyes bounced once, twice around the room.

  ...No

   You gasped, breath catching in your throat as your eyes caught on something that caused you to jump slightly in your seat.

"You ok?" Hajime whispered, the crowd going noticeably silent for a moment. Mr. Hinata glared in your direction. A silent warning, reminding you that even one wrong move made his company look bad, and that would not end so well for you. That was the shining aspect of Hajime’s personality, that he was nothing like his father.

"Yeah, y-yeah," you spoke airily, cheeks heating. "I just slipped to the edge of my seat a little, almost fell!" You lied timidly, a small laugh.

They'll eat that shit up. Soft-spoken, innocent, clumsy girls are all the rage! Of course, Hajime picked up on the lie immediately, catching the change in tone, the skipping of your heartbeat. Being an immortal freak had its perks.

The bright-eyed boy beside you patted your arm, the crowd chuckling politely before returning to their bombardment of questions.

Your eyes flew back to the corner of the room, back to the object that had you startled in the first place. You tried to tell yourself you’d imagined it, but there was no mistake,

 It was him...

 Standing there in the entranceway, so dimly lit, he hid in the alcove. There was no mistaking his favorite jacket, the fabric ripped and weathered from use. There was no mistaking the intricate, almost root-like pale green veins which spiraled up his arms, told a story across his milky collarbone, tumbled down his wrists, and made him all the more intimidating. Intoxicating. There was no mistaking that full head of tousled hair, brightly standing out even in the meager lighting in that disregarded corner of the room, messy whisps branching out dangerously; an air of nonchalance and bored irreverence. Smug bastard…

And there was absolutely no mistaking the way those bright eyes illuminated his white skin in contrast, a frightening and ethereal glow shooting off of him in waves. Hajime’s chestnut-brown eyes never mimicked that terrifying iridescence, but then again, Hajime never took his life-sustaining drink from a human host. Your hands began to subconsciously shake. From fear or the itching desire to… you didn’t know, throw your arms around him, touch his cheek just once... ? You never knew with him. He was a wild thing, a beast untamable. But why the hell was he here?

Carelessly he leaned against the door frame. His tongue shot out predatorily, running along his lower lip in one fluid motion. His knuckles raised, brushing against the green of his coat and coming up to scratch the side of his face.

❘ What are you doing here?! ❘ You sent your thoughts out in waves so loud you might as well have been screaming. You knew immediately that he had taken them in, absorbing your mental cursing and inner toil like sun rays. It was a power and privilege only those of his kind who were purebred enjoyed.

He did not answer, but merely tilted his head, the corner of his lip rising in that maddening grin he always threw at you. An impish smirk hiding mischief and chaotic intentions, you were sure.

You knew it would be mere moments ‘til your flawless "boyfriend" beside you noticed his presence as well, and you feared what might become of this night that was supposed to be of celebration. Almost as if on cue, Hajime’s words halted to a stop. That evil smirk only widened, a small snort shaking the intruder’s chest.

"Nagito..." Hajime murmured through clenched teeth, his hand shooting down to grab your wrist. "He's here."

  "I know..." your words shook, just loud enough for any non-human in the room to hear. Now it was time for you to be Hajime’s rock. Nagito's head bobbed, looking down at his old ripped jeans, and you saw Mr. Hinata's eye twitch before you, his vampiric hearing triggered immediately upon hearing your quiet exchange with Hajime.

Mr. Hinata followed your eyes to the back of the room, his fiery glare landing on the face of his eldest and only step-son in the shadows.

Was it too late to run back into the dressing room and never come out?

You could feel the tension in the air, a line of electricity connecting the three vampires like mental twine, ready to break at any moment. It was like watching three animals square off, sizing up their threat on a National Geographic documentary. The other Hinata coven members, all also fierce bloodsuckers in their own right, merely sat forward politely, sensing Nagito's aura but knowing better than to give him the time of day. After all, alerting the press to his presence would certainly not be a wise way to stay on Mr. Hinata’s good side.

  No one outside of the family even knew about the existence of the elder brother. He was an embarrassment, a stain on Mr. Hinata’s designer tie. In the packed room, he looked so out of place, with dark, torn clothes in a sea of try-hard collared shirts and dresses. Sure, everyone who was anyone in the media world had turned up for this interview, and would also return for the opening night the next day, but everyone who was anyone never included Nagito. He made sure of that. He just had to stick out, be different, didn’t he? Even among a bunch of immortal freaks, boy… was he a freak. 

Oh no, mommy remarried some rich man then got herself killed, better act like a little ungrateful little prick. Woe is me, I have super good luck that is sometimes super bad! No one understands me!!!

He sickened you, the way he did his best to destroy what he and Hajime’s family had built, all in the name of his backwards and twisted idea of “hope.” As if he didn't live like a prince because of the Hinatas’ hard work. Don’t get it twisted, you hated Mr. Hinata and would love to see the Hinata empire burn, but this company, the desire to be recognized and worth something, was all that held dear Hajime up. It was his only dream, and he deserved it. Nagito didn’t have a right to tear Mr. Hinata down if he had to wreck Hajime to do it.

     He disgusted you, you’d decided months back, to make it all easier on yourself. Everything he’d done, the trouble he’d caused, the hurt he’d caused so many people. Routinely, you reinforced to yourself that you hated Nagito Komaeda

   ...You were disgusted by the way you… just... couldn’t hate him. It didn’t feel right. Something felt… wrong in hating him.

  Your heart lurched, meeting his eyes again.

Why not? Why not just hate him, (Y/N)? Like everyone else…

Why was it so hard? You were supposed to be with Hajime. And Hajime hated Nagito. Everyone who knew Nagito hated Nagito. But… telling yourself you were anything but infatuated with that dangerous creature… was a lie. You owed everything, good and bad, to that feral, insane man.

Your nerves and the hairs on your arms pricked up like an agitated cat. Why why why? Why would he even do this? He knew what showing up here would start. He was born to start shit, to brew altercation, to cook up conflict. Maybe you should give him the benefit of the doubt? Perhaps he finally came to an event to support his darling step-brother, but the way he bore his fangs when his eyes met Hajime’s said otherwise.

❘ Leave. Just Leave. You're just here to antagonize me and I won't let you be a problem. Not today. This is my day… ❘ Hajime spat mentally, and his thoughts burned through your own and, you're sure, Nagito’s.

❘ Aren’t all the days yours, Your Majesty? ❘ Nagito’s thoughts were more severe, yet more playful, taunting, careless, a venomous snarl behind every synapse pulse.

❘ ...Leave. ❘ Hajime pulsed back in warning.

❘ ....Or what? ❘ Nagito’s own ominous threat reverberated through your cranium. You pressed a hand to your temple, an angry, stinging sensation pulsating through your head. Having a vampire read one’s mind was uncomfortable enough: feeling the slight probing and perhaps needing an aspirin after, but being the third line in a purebred pissing match… it was a call you desperately wanted to hang up on. But.. humans didn’t naturally hear a vampire’s thoughts on accident. No, you were hearing this conversation because you were meant to, someone wanted you to. You had no powers of your own, but Nagito kept you trapped in this nonverbal battle, strung up betwixt two immortal minds. You brought the back of your free hand up to your nose, wiping away a stripe of red vitality that began to flow from both nostrils. The panging inside, the angry shouting in your mind only got louder.

[danganronpa-fan1]

hello!! may I please request some fluff dating headcanons with komaru? gender neutral reader please!

Of course I love Komaru the headcanon is under the cut

Komaru loves to watch movies with you and just chill

The type of movies she loves to watch are romantic dates

She ends up falling asleep in the middle though with her head on your shoulder

When the two of you first started dating she gave you a matching ring set

She's embarrassed but if she's confident enough she'll kiss you surprisingly

[windblxmes]

Open for business

Hi before we get anywhere else if your gonna request please read my welcome post first please and thank you

Requests Currently: Open ✨

Drafts : 0 Asks: 1

Update 8/5/22: I’m currently trying to get all my asks written as soon as possible if it’s in drafts that’s means it’s written and I’m waiting to post it and if it’s asks that means the ask has been received and will be written when I get to it I most likely will not ever close my asks but it could take awhile to get to it thank youuu <3

✨Welcome Post✨

⬇️⬇️⬇️⬇️⬇️⬇️⬇️⬇️⬇️⬇️⬇️⬇️⬇️

https://windblxmes.tumblr.com/post/673145632919371776/hiiiii-welcome

Masterlist

https://windblxmes.tumblr.com/post/673860864106954752/masterlist

Ok so right now i'm gonna start with requests for

*Danganronpa (all games)

*Genshin Impact

*Your Turn To Die

I DON'T LIKE WRITING S*D*ST*C YANDERE'S (I won’t write them) I PREFER SOFT YANDERE'S AND NO NSFW I CAN IMPLY IT BUT I DON'T FEEL LIKE WRITING A WHOLE POST ABOUT HOW (character) r***d (character) or y/n i just don't

I prefer doing yandere requests but please give me some non-yandere too for now so i can be more confident in my yandere writing ill probably change to just yandere at somepoint but i'll let you know when I do i'm more confident in my non-yandere writing atm i prefer x readers but i'll write character x character if i'm really into the ship but i might deny the request also please specify if you want a male, female, or gn i also have the right to refuse a request if i feel like i don't know how to write for the topic

(by the way if a character is in bold I have less confident in writing for so don't be to disappointed if the post is absolute shit and if it has a * next to it I ONLY WRITE PLATONIC if it doesn't have a * ill write both)

Danganronpa

Trigger Happy Havoc

Makoto Naegi

Kyoko Kirigiri

Byakuya Togami

Chihiro Fujisaki

Aoi Asahina

Celestia Ludenburg

Sayaka Maizono

Goodbye Despair

Chiaki Nanami (both versions if you don't specify i'll pick)

Nagito Komaeda

Mikan Tsumiki

Mahiru Koizumi

Akane Owari

Fuyuhiko Kuzuryu

Hiyoko Saionji

Ibuki Mioda

Izuru Kamukura/Hajime Hinata

Sonia Nevermind

V3 Killing Harmony

Shuichi Saihara

Kokichi Oma/Ouma (idgaf how u say it)

Maki Harukawa

Angie Yonaga

Himiko Yumeno

Kirumi Tojo

Kaede Akamatsu

Kaito Momota

Tenko Chabashira

Tsumugi Shirogane

Miu Iruma

Rantaro Amami

Ultra Despair Girls

Warriors of Hope*

Danganronpa 3 (Anime)

Natsumi Kuzuryu

Chisa Yukizome*

Ruruka Ando

Ryota Mitarai (the original)

Seiko Kimura

Genshin Impact

Klee*

Jean

Mona

Sayu*

Qiqi*

Traveler and Abyss Twins

Barbara

Diluc

Amber

Xiangling

Beidou

Xingqiu

Ningguang

Fischl

Bennett

Noelle

Sucrose

Venti (warning i tend to write him ooc)

Childe (I tend to write him different than most ppl)

Albedo

Ganyu

Xiao

Hu Tao

Rosaria

Yanfei

Eula

Kazuha

Ayaka

Yoimiya

Ei

Sara

Kokomi

Thoma

Itto

Yun Jin

Shenhe

Your Turn to Die

Sara

Keiji

Sou (Shin)

Nao

Kai

Kanna*

Gin

Reko

Alice

Ranmaru

Hinako (i don't know alot about her so it will probably be very ooc)

Mai

Anzu

Midori

Rio Ranger

ok i think thats it i'll probably edit this list once in awhile lol oh and im gonna edit the tags soon if you have any questions feel free to send in a ask i'll try and answer asap and to the best of my ability

[ultimate-ranger]

Welcome!

Hey! I'm Dame, and this is my Danganronpa blog! Come visit my main blog here if you want other dumb stuff from me lmao

Mostly a place for me to rb/post my own DR content, but please feel free to interact w/ me! Once I pick up a little more visibility, I'll likely clean this pinned post up and make separate posts for my tag list and such

I'm open for character and character x S/O headcanon requests! Rules and such for that are posted under the cut. However, this blog won't be entirely focused on that, just fyi!

If you ask me about my OCs I'll fall in love with you

Requests [0/5]

[Upcoming works]

─────────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───────────

Important notes || DNI || Masterlists || Taglist || Request Rules under cut:

Important things to note:

I don't automatically use tone indicators, but I'm willing to, so just let me know if you need them!

I don't tag spoilers, so be cautious

I'm a full time college student, so apologies if I don't get to your ask/request/chat!

If you are a minor, proceed at your own risk. This blog won't be always be sfw, but I'm not going to police anyone obvi. Just know I'm not liable for what you choose to expose yourself to

I use they/them pronouns for Chihiro [But if you use other pronouns for them, thats ok!]

I swear a lot, and I also type in caps a lot, so fair warning. No I will not change these habits

I automatically tag certain things like long posts, or specific triggers/peeves. Let me know if you need something tagged!

I'm obsessed with my own OCs/OC x Canon, so I'm sorry if I get annoying about them lmao

I typically talk in all lowercase with barely any punctuation; but my writing has more proper grammar

I have ADHD so I'm sorry if I don't make sense all the time :')

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

DNI:

Racists

Homophobes, biphobes, transphobes, TERFs, etc

Ablests

P/edos, MAPs

Kink/fetish blogs

Proshippers

If you believe wildlife can be pets

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Masterlists

[coming soon!]

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Taglist

Asks/Chats/Etc:

[Dame Answers] - Answers to asks

[Dame Replies] - Replies to tags/mentions/etc

[Dame Responds] - Reblogs with my responses

[Dame Rambles] - Various ramblings of whatevers on my mind

My content:

[My art] - Art that I've drawn; from full pieces, to dumb jokes, to shitty doodles

[My writing] - Various written works of mine; from fics to drabbles

[Trailblazers] - Posts about my own Fanganronpa game idea, Danganronpa: Trailblazers

[My original posts] - Posts that I made myself that are neither art nor writing, from either here or my main blog

Other:

[Discourse] - Should I ever find the need to reblog something thats within the topic of discourse, callouts, etc

[Not DR] - Non-Danganronpa related content

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Request Rules

Will write:

All three main games characters, I'll do my best to write for all of them!

Headcanons

Fem, male, and GN (AFAB or AMAB) S/O

Character x S/O [NO use of x reader or x y/n, for personal reasons]

Poly ships

Character x Character, but ONLY: - Taka x Mondo - Taka x Chihiro x Mondo - Shuichi x Kaito - Kaito x Shuichi x Maki - Makoto x Byakuya - Kyoko x Makoto x Byakuya - Hajime x Nagito - Izuru x Nagito - Hajime x Nagito x Chiaki - Gundham x Kazuichi x Sonia

AUs - Non-Despair - Masterminds - Remnants of Despair - All killing games were in the Neo-World Program - Non-Ultimates

Some sensitive topics - Depression/anxiety/ADHD - Su/icide - S/elf h/arm - Weight insecurity

NS/FW

Specific Ultimates for S/O

Will NOT write:

Anime/manga-only characters [If they don't appear in the main games, then I don't know how to properly portray them]

Fanganronpa characters [I've never played and have no desire to play, sorry!]

Ultra Despair Girls characters [Besides Toko and Nagito, obvi]

Underage characters romantically

Non-con/Dub-con

Fetishes involving piss/scat

DDLG / Agere / Age-regressing fetishes or scenarios

Uncomfortable scenarios [I'll let you know if I'm uncomfy with it]

Trans S/O [I'm cis, so I don't feel like I can accurately portray the experience, sorry!!]