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merakiui · 1 year

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Hi merakiui! For the lunar love hotel if it's alright can I get a cherry wine and red velvet cupcakes with floyd leech with an AFAB reader, please?

yandere!floyd leech x (female) reader cw: yandere, nsfw, non-con, cunnilingus, brief mention of pregnancy, serial killer floyd au note - thank you for checking in, dearest guest! enjoy your order! [lunar love hotel]

Your back slams into the floor with a harsh, spine-cracking thump, and pinpricks of pain explode within your skull. The kitchen knife is centimeters from your face, driven into the wood flooring so deeply that it splinters from the sheer force, and you surmise he’s put it there intentionally. It’s a very easy trap. Unfortunately, you’re too petrified to fall for it.

You stare up at a face bathed in shadows, nerves alight with fight or flight, and watch in muted horror as he tugs the surgical mask from his face to show you his needle-toothed grin. Though his hair is dyed Stygian and he’s wearing colored contacts—twin pools of the prettiest blue—this is undeniably Floyd Leech. You’d recognize that creeping, crawling lilt in his voice any day because it’s stuck with you ever since you first met him, carved into your being like a terrible tattoo or a melody you can never forget. And it’s remained in the corners of your brain ever since news of his escape shook the city, a constant reminder that one day his voice wouldn’t be so far away.

Today is that day.

“S’no fun if you let me catch ya right away,” he says, peering around your dimly lit bedroom. “Your place’s reeeal nice. Much nicer than the cell. Shame ya never invited me.” He’s pouting now, scuffing his sneaker against the floor as if he’s a child whining about a lack of dessert. “Shrimpy’s so mean, excludin’ me from your life like that…”

You’re at a loss, opening and closing your mouth like a beached fish, eyes blown impossibly wide. He doesn’t look particularly livid, but then there’s manic glee shimmering in his azure hues and that’s far more terrifying than any anger he could harbor.

I have to call for help. I have to run away. I can’t let him kill me. I have to—

“Hey, hey. Whatcha thinkin’ about?” He bends down to inspect your eyes as they travel towards the handle of the knife. “You wanna kill me, Shrimpy? Put me back in that cold, cramped cell?” He tilts his head, amusement waltzing across fearsome features. “Have fun tryin’. I ain’t goin’ back now that I got ya all to myself.”

“F-Floyd… How did you—” You swallow thickly, flinching away when he drops to his knees to trap you between sturdy arms. You scoot away, propped up on your elbows, and the gears in your brain are turning in an attempt to work out a hasty escape. “W-Why are you here?”

Keep him talking. Pretend it’s an interview. Silence leads to stagnation, and Floyd loves talking when he’s in the mood.

“I told ya, didn’t I? Soon as I’m gettin’ out I’m comin’ to find ya.” His fingers curl around the handle of the knife and he yanks it up from the floor. “Ya never answered my question, y’know.”

“Your proposal?” You stare at him in disbelief. All of this…just for a reply to a yes-no question. He can’t be serious.

“Ah, that’s the one! Shrimpy remembers!”

He is. Very serious, apparently.

“What happens if I agree?” you ask slowly, taking great caution to structure the sentence just right, lest you offend him and find that blade stabbed through your skull. “We can’t get married the normal way.”

“Normal’s borin’ anyway.” With that same dopey smile, he narrows his eyes, reels his arm back, and throws the knife directly at the wall beyond. You don’t see it burrow into the wall, but you hear it. It's explosive in the stifling quiet of the bedroom. Floyd gazes at you, smiling sincerely. “See? No more knife. I’m gonna be good for Shrimpy if Shrimpy’s gonna be good for me.”

“Right… R-Right. Okay. I’ll be good. Can I… Can I stand up now? The floor isn’t very comfortable.”

“Okaaay!” He pulls away, rises to his full hulking height, and offers his hand. Gingerly, you place yours in his and he lifts you up. “S’nice to touch ya without the cuffs.”

“You didn’t answer my question, Floyd.” Like always, you speak directly, firmly, gently. He stares at you, a strange shadow passing over his face. “What happens if I agree to marry you?”

“You’ll become Mrs. Shrimpy. Duh.”

“Okay… And you won’t hurt anyone? If I become Mrs. Shrimpy, you have to promise.” Floyd’s gaze strays. You lift your hand to his face to guide him back to you. His hand closes around yours, and there is an uncanny softness to his face that reflects something tame. He’s almost…innocent like this, leaning into your palm like an oversized puppy desperate for affection and attention. And to think this is the same man who could be so mercilessly cutthroat. “You have to promise me, Floyd. No hurting others. No matter how difficult it gets—no matter how angry or upset you become—you can’t hurt people.”

He frowns as if it’s an unreasonable plea.

“Promise me.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Floyd.”

“I promise,” he mumbles and then exaggerates an obnoxious sigh, his shoulders drooping. “Shrimpy’s really wringin’ me dry here. Then if I’m promisin’ to be a goody-goody, you gotta promise to marry me, ‘kay?”

“I promise.” You force a wobbly smile as your stomach churns.

This is sickening. There has to be some way out of this. Maybe it’s possible to distract him long enough to make a run for it…

Floyd lights up at your acquiescence and wraps his arms around you in an embrace that would have felt bone-crushing if you hadn’t already prepared yourself for the brunt of his aggressive affection. You consider the situation while he buries his face in the crook of your neck, humming his happiness.

Surely he wouldn’t come here without a plan. What happens if I do manage to get out or call for help? Or is he planning to take me somewhere else? Is he even here to kill me? But then he was so focused on the marriage proposal and—

Your thoughts come to an abrupt halt when Floyd, still hugging you, drags you over to your bed and shoves you onto the mattress. It depresses under his weight when he climbs onto it next, hastily kicking his sneakers off and shucking his hooded sweatshirt in the process to reveal well-toned musculature. The once joyous glaze in his eyes mellows into something predatory, and it occurs to you that he isn’t here for a response to a question. Upon recognizing this, your heart plummets into your stomach.

There were two things Floyd pestered you with when you’d visit him for interviews. How you managed to blot the second demand from your brain is beyond you, but it becomes abundantly clear when he seizes your ankles just as you attempt to crawl out from under his looming shadow.

“W-Wait… What are you—”

“Don’t go anywhere, Shrimpy!” He squeezes just hard enough to warn you, and even though it doesn’t hurt the implication that it eventually will should you defy him has you wincing. “Aw. Don’t be scared. I’m not scary, yeah?”

You stare helplessly at him. He’s smiling, face flushed with wicked excitement. “Floyd, I don’t want—stop! Let go of me!” A rough hand traces its way up to the waistband of your shorts, and his fingers curl around it. Your eyes widen with newfound terror. “No, no, no! Let go of me! Stop! Stop, stop, stop—”

An unknown darkness passes over your face for a fraction of a second, and then his hand is covering it entirely, squeezing ruthlessly. His nails dig into the plush of your cheeks, and through the crack between his fingers you spy his hateful expression. It’s murder and death all at once, so frightful you wonder if this is the same face he showed all of his past victims.

“You promised to be good,” he says, voice devoid of the warmth it once held. “I like Shrimpy’s voice, so don’t make me take it.” Those last few words are spoken in low, threatening octaves.

“Please don’t do this,” you whisper, voice cracking. “P-Please, Floyd…”

“Why not? You’re my wife now, and when you’re engaged you gotta show your love nice and proper.”

Your eyes find the knife lodged in the wall. It’s impossible to get to it without Floyd’s quick interception, and even if it was in your grasp you’re not sure you’d have the courage to hurt him. As much as you despise him, he’s still human—a foolish excuse, for he’s a serial killer on death row, and therefore it shouldn’t matter whether or not you hurt him. After all, he’s hurt dozens. And he’s hurting you.

But despite that…

His hand withdraws from your face, and the intimidating aura that surrounded him earlier vanishes at once. “I got lotsa practice at lunch. It was lame to do it on fruit, but I pretended it was Shrimpy and it became really fun!” He giggles at the recollection, shaking his head as if it’s a silly topic. And it would have been if it weren’t for the circumstances. “I’ve wanted ya so bad. Always. So fuckin’ bad it hurt.”

He tugs your shorts down to your ankles, leaning down to press a kiss just above your navel. You catch his eyes as he does this and a sly smirk curls onto his face.

“And now I get to have ya.”

“Please don’t…”

But he may as well be deaf, for your pleas never reach his ears. Floyd kisses his way to your hips, tugging your panties down as he goes. You stiffen at the way the cool air settles on your bare skin, and he laughs breathlessly, exhilaration reflected in wide, eager eyes. As a last-ditch effort you attempt to shut your legs, but he grabs them and throws them over his shoulders to lock himself in place between your thighs. You squirm restlessly beneath him while he studies your pussy, his warm breath ghosting over it.

“Aah? Shrimpy’s so cute, shavin’ just for me.” Mirth-filled eyes flick to yours. “You don’t hafta, y’know. I don’t mind if Shrimpy’s hairy. No matter what, Shrimpy’s always gonna be pretty to me.”

“Don’t look!” Shakily, you slide your hand down to shield it from his view.

And I didn’t shave it for you! you want to add, but the words just won’t come.

His fingers knead your thighs encouragingly, and he leans in to nose your knuckles. “Aww. But it’s really so pretty.” He winks at you, playful. “A pretty pussy for my pretty Shrimpy.”

A potent concoction of embarrassment and shame flares red-hot under your skin. There’s a sick part of you that preens under his filthy praise. You strangle fistfuls of the sheets in your other hand to ground yourself. He’s not attractive. He’s a criminal. But even with those reminders you find yourself clinging to his words out of some carnal instinct.

“Stop… Stop talking.”

He giggles and leans in to lick a wet stripe along your fingers, enticing you to separate them. You shake your head at him, mumble another objection, but he refuses to have any of that. Floyd pinches your thigh and you grimace at the sharp, stinging pain. It’s enough of a temporary distraction because his tongue slides past the part in your fingers to prod at your clitorial hood. The warm muscle flicks, almost like a snake catching a scent, and presses up against the hood to lap at the nub that resides there. The breath sticks in your throat and you retract your hand, your heart skipping one too many beats within your ribs.

He braces himself against you, hands splayed across your inner thighs to keep you perfectly spread. Floyd angles his head in a way that allows him to affix his lips to your slit, and at first it feels like a wet, sloppy smooch when the flat part of his tongue laves across it. But then his tongue is sliding away, slowly circling your clit, sucking with just the right amount of pressure, and you throw your head back against the bed, the breath punched out of you. He pats your thigh in what you think might be a consoling gesture, and you respond with a shiver. A subdued groan just barely manages to slip past puffy, bitten lips, and it occurs to you that you’ve been chewing them this entire time. Iron thickens in your mouth, and you swallow both blood and moans as Floyd’s enthusiastic ministrations draw more reedy sounds from the depths of your throat.

Tears gather upon your lash line, and for a moment all you see is the ceiling as salty liquid obscures it. But then you blink them away and hazard a glimpse at Floyd, whose head is still between your legs. Salacious squelches of tongue on flesh join your soft, needy gasps, mingling into a duet so lewd it fills your brain with thoughts of pure obscenity. And at the very center of it all, Floyd is all you can think about.

It’s your fingers carding through his hair that momentarily breaks Floyd from his rhythm. He doesn’t stop; rather, he hums his delight against you after realizing you’re touching him and the vibrations fill you much like the thick tongue forcing its way inside tight, gummy walls. You’re tugging on obsidian locks, battling chagrin and pleasure all at once, and he seems to enjoy the rough treatment, for he groans into you, digging his fingers into the softness of your thighs.

At some point, amidst every enjoyable sensation that crashes into you, his thumb finds your clit to massage harsh circles against it while two slender fingers curl up inside you alongside his tongue. You’re trembling now, digging your fingers into his scalp to brace yourself, as you rock against his face and sob as if mourning. It feels so, so good—much better than when you’d do it with your own fingers and toys—and all you can manage is incoherency as his fingers work you open and his tongue slurps up your slick. Every little touch, hum, and stroke has something building in your gut, a ferocious, coiling sort of heat that’s pulled unbearably taut.

And with one particularly rough grind of his thumb it snaps, and you howl your relief as you gush all over his handsome face. Floyd licks you through it, laughing against your pussy, before drawing back to inhale deeply. His fingers slide out of you with ease, but you lament the emptiness. Bathed in the amber glow from the bedside lamp, Floyd’s features shimmer with wetness.

He licks his lips slowly, savoring the taste of you in his mouth, wipes your juices from his brow, and sighs dreamily. “Shrimpy’s much better than a grapefruit!”

You have a retort for that, surely, but it never leaves your swollen lips. Floyd lowers your legs onto the bed and you remain sprawled, unable to do much other than watch. He’s quick to slip his sweatpants and boxers off while you recover from the high of your orgasm, your chest heaving. And before you can even think to stop him, the soft, fleshy head of his hard, leaking cock presses against your slick folds, and you, delirious with mounting lust, peer up at him through glazed hues. You don’t have the energy to protest because in the back of your mind you know he won’t listen and you’re too boneless to put up much of a fight.

Floyd beams like the brightest sun, serrated teeth on full display in that boyishly toothy grin he does so well. “Hope you’re ready for triplets cuz that’s what I’m givin’ ya!”

You’re not ready—not in the slightest—but you’ll have to be.

#yandere twst #yandere twst x reader #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #yandere floyd leech #yandere floyd leech x reader #yandere floyd x reader #yandere floyd #serial killer floyd #tw: pregnancy mention #tw: noncon #n/sfw #lunar love hotel 2023

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llumetesdellums · 2 years

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Miss, That was national TV...

She’s 23, she’s 23.

Mei being a streamer and a professional motorcyclist at 23 and still finding time to party and hang around the shop, it's a flex.

Bestie you have a race tomorrow at 7, saving the world at 9, and a party with sponsors at 10, who's your secretary who made your timetables??? BECAUSE THEY ARE GOOD.

She IS the moment.

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audhd-nightwing · 6 months

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i don’t get ppl who think real life serial killers are attractive or cool or whatever. like those are Real People. if you wanna call a serial killer babygirl just find a fictional one

like. there’s so many fictional murderers and such that people make edits and fanart/fanfic of and it’s a billion times less problematic than doing that with Actual Real Life Killers. go draw patrick bateman in a maid dress. make some edits of (matthew lillard as) stu and william afton.

have fun with it bc at the end of the day, they are fictional characters and doing that stuff doesn’t hurt anybody. however, doing that with real life killers? that does hurt people.

basically: don’t romanticize actual serial killers when it’s so much less fucked up to just call hannibal lecter your babygirl or draw the riddler as a catboy

#random thought of the day #the romanticization of serial killers #they keep making shows and movies about them #why???#it’s awful #death mention tw #tw serial killers #i don’t go into detail but i wanna be safe #patrick bateman #stu macher #william afton #hannibal lecter #the riddler #fictional characters #lmk if there’s any tags u think i should add

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bennyyrabbit · 5 months

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Still have serial killer intrulogical brainrot but it's a different one this time.

Logan's a stalker who kills all of Remus' partners (they've only ACTUALLY met like once thanks to Roman) and eventually decides to stop staying on the sidelines and "accidentally" runs into Remus in a store

They end up in a relationship a few months later because Remus is like Oooh, you're Hot now, and Oooh, you're smart and cute and kinky and I like that and they end up together.

And then months after they get together Remus finds journal entries about all of Logan's kills (he's not killing anymore because he has his Remus).

And of course, at first, Remus is like, Oh My God, He's Fucking Crazy.

And then he's like OH MY GOD HE'S CRAZY I LOVE HIM.

And eventually he makes a reference to the kill that only Logan would know and Logan finds out that Remus knows.

He panics.

Logan is all like, Remus, Don't Be Afraid Of Me, You Know I Would Never Hurt You, I Never Wanted You To Find Out.

But Remus is all You Killed For Me!!! Yay!!!

And Logan is VERY relieved that Remus is okay with it, and very glad he doesn't have to go into plan b

(Forcing Remus into their basement and locking him up and forcing him to play nice and behave or he doesn't get fed or watered because Logan refuses to lose Remus after he's finally had him [eventually Remus would be let into the rest of the house and even allowed to go back to normal life as long as he didn't try to leave Logan {if he left, Logan would hunt him down and kill him}])

Logan also doesn't tell Remus about his plan b, because he's already walking a thin line of, Remus Knows I Am A Murderer, And Can Now Sell Me Out To Police.

But Remus would never because he's like I Have A Serial Killer Boyfriend!!! Who Killed For Me!!! :)))))!!!

#sanders sides #remus sanders #logan sanders #intrulogical #serial killer au #murder mention #tw mention of murder #tw stalking mention #mention of stalking #tw kidnapping

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waterfrontcomplex · 5 months

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CYCRANE KILLER - A YANQING SERIAL KILLER AU

TW/CW FOR MURDER, VIOLENCE, DISMEMBERMENT, GENERAL MENTAL INSTABILITY, MENTIONS OF ABUSE

AU INFO ↓

after the disastrous battle at dragonprayer terrace, yanqing is left disheartened, confused, and alone. he was just defeated by 2 criminals, and the one person he trusted with his whole being left him there with no explanation.

he gets healed at the alchemy commission, and returns home. jing yuan eventually recovers, and... everything returns to some sense of normalcy. no 'i'm sorry', no 'are you okay?', no nothing. he receives assignments as usual, and goes through with them with ease.

during an assignment in cloudford, he encounters a man who was on the run and had a warrant out for his arrest for domestic abuse. yanqing pursued the man until he accidentally cornered him with some particularly violent mara-struck, and was killed before he could stop them.

that night, he couldn't stop thinking about the man. he had let a civilian die. but... that man was a terrible person. he had a family that loved him, and he hurt them in return. yanqing felt an unexplainable burst of 'satisfaction' or even 'happiness'. that man would never hurt anybody again.

a terrible idea appeared in his head. what if he purposely killed people like those?

it's extremely illegal and goes against his duty as a cloud knight, but they would deserve it and he's just so, so frustrated. so, he looks into a couple cases and finds one he takes interest in. if he wants to go through with this, he can't use yanzhuo or his ice swords; it would make his identity too obvious. he grabs a blade he's been itching to test out, dons a cloak and leaves during the night.

the break-in and murder is easy enough. most people on the luofu stand no chance against him. adrenaline is rushing through his veins, and now there's a body on the floor and his dagger is covered in blood.

the cleanup is simple; he has the knowledge and resources available to make it look as if his target had just vanished during the night. he dismembers and disposes of the body and returns home. he had just killed another civilian... but they were a terrible person— no, they're not even a person. they're just vermin, unworthy of the title of 'human' and waiting to be eliminated. he feels static in his head.

in the following weeks, he does his best to avoid searching up information about his target. yanqing listens in to gossip instead, and gathers that they had been reported missing but no traces were found. he had gotten away with murder.

and he was going to do it again.

the next few nights, he claims more lives; lives of those unworthy of them. after the murders, the static in his head clears, but comes back later. they disappear during the night without a trace.

while disposing of a body, yanqing encounters a partially broken down cycrane with sentience, like his swords. he fixes it up, and it says it doesn't want to 'return to a mundane life of endless deliveries', so he takes it home and hides it. after a bit of searching, he gives it a name: rosebane.

the cases are starting to catch the attention of the higher-ups. the public now knows about the 'mysterious disappearances', and rumors start spreading like wildfire. some claim it's a monster, other say it's a stalker, and some are claiming that it's a whole group of people. nobody suspects him a bit. tensions are high.

yanqing doesn't want the public to worry too much. rumors of a monster could put the cloud knights on high alert. if he let any witnesses see him, they would know it was a human. and if he brings rosebane, they would know it's the same person, and not a group of people. rosebane wouldn't reveal anything about his real identity, and would be particularly useful for tracking down targets. a monster would be extremely concerning, but a person would be... hopefully less concerning. and with a cycrane, it would lead the investigators away from him.

during his next murder, he chooses a time where there would be a witness, and commits the crime, leaving the body. word gets out, and news of the 'cycrane killer' is everywhere. yanqing masks his nervousness as worry for jing yuan, but he doesn't fully buy it.

he's not crazy, he's not insane at all. he doesn't kill for the adrenaline rush, or to clear the static in his head, or for whatever other reason.

he's just... doing the luofu a favor.

☆⋆⋅───────

RELATIONSHIPS

YANQING -> ROSEBANE

friendly. they are extremely close, but can't talk much since yanqing shouldn't bring them out during the day. they're partners in crime, bound to their secret. he finds their sentience interesting.

YANQING -> JING YUAN

tense. yanqing partly blames jing yuan for his... new hobby. he still cares and would never hurt him on purpose, but he's extremely frustrated and confused. he mainly wants an explanation but feels as if he has no right to ask for one. yanqing also has to tread lightly around jing yuan to avoid him figuring out about his murders.

YANQING -> FU XUAN

cautious. if fu xuan suspects him of anything, she could easily rat him out with the matrix of prescience. he's been keeping his distance.

JING YUAN -> YANQING

worry. jing yuan knows yanqing's upset and has been acting strangely ever since he recovered. he also knows that his retainer is hiding something, but doesn't know what.

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ayyy-imma-ninja · 5 months

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Hello, are you the person who made the dca!sk au? If so, I hope you don't mind if I do a ask and say: Sun kinda reminds me of "The Dismemberment Song" a little bit, ngl. Especially in the "Rib Tickler" comic where he told the person that they were squirmy. Sorta reminded me of the song, lol. Also, speaking of the "Rib Tickler" comic, did Sun count shaking as not holding still? I noticed that while he was counting, the person had noticeable shake marks around them (I would be shaking a lot too if I were them!) And I guessed Sun counted that as moving (on second thought, this might be a dumb question) perhaps they were meant to loose? Because he knew they wouldn't be able to stop shaking due to the fear and pain? But then again, he said, "I swear you're doing this on purpose" did he mean the person was moving to agitate him? Also, do they have rules against Rulebreakers about swearing in the basement during their "sessions," or, can they say what they want? (I know Sun and Moon can swear while there). Do Sun and Moon have any rules for the Rulebreakers to follow in the basement, and if they don't follow said rules will that further add to their punishment? Has Sun or Moon ever talked to a Rulebreaker on the "outside" before their "basement session?" If so, what'd they say? What's Sun's other favorite "games" to play with Rulebreakers? Do kids of some of the parents they kill ever say to Sun (or Moon) that they miss thier parent because what they thought they were doing to them was how they "loved" them? Have they ever had kids whose parent was a Rulebreaker, and the kid looks just like them it's almost creepy? (Espically if the Rulebreaker parent is already dead). Have you ever had two Rulebreaker parents, and did a double sesssion, where Moon had one, Sun had the other? Or would they "share" them? What if a Rulebreaker keeps passing out because of injuries or something else? Do Sun and Moon do adrenalin needles, a bucket of cold water, a slap to the face, etc, to pull them out of unconsciousness, especially if the "session" wasn't over and one of them didn't get to go? Does Sun usually go first and Moon go second? Have they ever had a Rulebreaker that would need to take something at a certain time otherwise it'll be life threatening, before their session was over, so they gave it to them reluctantly to extend their time with them?

Apologies if you're not the person and I'm bombarding you with stuff you don't know the answers to. But either way, thank you for reading my post! And if you're the right person, thank you so much for taking the time to answer all this, I kind of went on a extended tangent there, and I hope to hear from you soon!

Hello, yes I am! :D

"The Dismemberment Song" certainly does fit Sun in a way. He likes to go into detail about how he intends to carry out his work X3

Just as he and Moon like to play games. And in regards to the comic, Sun knew his game would be unfair. Of course someone can't keep still if their bruised and broken ribcage is being touched, it's practically impossible. Sun knows this, but Rulebreakers don't deserve fairness. Sun and Moon have no respect for Rulebreakers and will openly mock them because they both know it's more than what they deserve.

Every game a Rulebreaker plays is a game they are always meant to lose.

Rulebreakers can swear all they want; but if Sun or Moon decide they've said enough, either of them can easily silence them.

That's about as much as I can answer, it's a little difficult reading the rest of the questions QwQ but thank you for asking and showing interest in this AU!

#answered ask #dca!serial killer au #serial killer duo #sk boys #serial killer sun #serial killer moon #rulebreakers #tw mention of torture #torture #cw torture #cw mention of needles #tw mention of needles #needles

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funishment-rhyme · 1 month

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Everyone Hates Monokuma Theater

It's Open Mic Night at Hope's Peak Academy in a universe without despair. Junko and Monokuma take the stage first, and they're terrible at comedy.

⭐ WORDS: ~1000 ⭐ TAGS...

CHARACTERS: Junko Enoshima, Monokuma, brief mentions of other characters

TIMELINES: Non-Despair/v3 Class 79 AU

TRIGGERS: mentions of serial killer activity

MISC: humor, Monokuma Theater

///

It was the first Saturday of the month, which meant Open Night Mic in the Hope’s Peak Academy gymnasium. It meant, too, an appearance from Junko Enoshima with her artificially intelligent robo-bear. Again.

Grinning, Junko took to the stage first, as always. She seated herself primly on the single stool there and adjusted the microphone in polite silence. Then, with the warm gaze of a mother, she watched as a stuffed bear toddled after her from the hallway and crawled into her lap. It was tubby and two feet tall and utterly silly in all respects, and she called it Monokuma.

Everyone at Hope’s Peak hated that thing, even if they loved Junko. Which they did.

///

Nonetheless, my friends, you could have drifted to the sky on the weight of the collective groaning once the audience saw the bear waddle in. The academy students had only just gathered around the tables scattered in front of the illuminated gym stage…and they already regretted it. Still, as teenagers, they were inexorably drawn to any activity that allowed them to sit unmonitored in the dark.

///

Fuyuhiko Kuzuryu said: “This bullshit again. She some kinda Ultimate Ventriloquist now?”

“Ah, I believe we had one. And I believe he passed away last March,” Kirumi Tojo replied, setting a cola in front of Fuyuhiko. She gently placed a straw from her breast pocket into the drink. “By…fire, I think.”

“More like ashed away.” (That was Kokichi Ouma, his feet kicked up on a second chair across from the yakuza, his hands folded behind his head. No one listened to him much.)

“Goddamn.” Fuyuhiko rubbed his good eye. “We sure do have a lot of those here. Fires.”

“Schools are inherently flammable, I’m afraid,” Kirumi added, then disappeared into further serving duties.

“I said, more like ashed away—no? Anyone?” Kokichi scoffed, then tittered. “Man.”

///

But the students loved Junko, as I said. So they listened as Monokuma told its—his—joke:

“If you think about it, when you’ve got a critter in your house, even something as fluffy-uffy-uffy as a puppy, you just gotta trust they won’t bite you in the behind when you’re not looking. That’s why Lady Junko here never cooks for me—it’s not right for a girl to attend school with a hole in the back of her skirt, puhuhu.”

His voice sounded much like Junko’s, if Junko had ever decided to act in the most irritating children’s television program on earth.

“But really, folks, you can’t ever know what’s on an animal’s mind. Humans are animals, too. For my birthday this year, I got a book about usin’ body language to figure out who’s lyin’, and all those tips only worked once, on one person. Turns out, thoughts are like carbon monoxide: invisible, intangible, smelly as nothin’. There’s no tells! You don’t know anyone’s motives. That’s why Lady Junko here never cooks for me—I’d never know it, but she could poison my salmon dinner because she’s jealous, puhuhu.”

The gymnasium was silent, except for a single hoot from Kokichi Ouma.

“I also got a foreign comic about a serial killer. I’m on a true crime kick, what can I say?—and this serial killer was weird as all get-out when he was a kid. Cuddlin’ up to dead animals and watchin’ them suffer beforehand, that kind of thing. Terrible stuff. But no one ever thinks they’re besties with a murderer. That’s an idea bigger than the sky, y’know? And that’s why Lady Junko here never cooks for me—because she gets pie in the sky ideas, puhuhuhu.”

Junko feigned an eye-roll.

As for Monokuma: you might have expected his single red eye to gleam in the dark, but it didn’t.

///

In fact—though I know you’re waiting for a heart-throbbing turn of events, my friends—there was nothing sinister about the situation whatsoever. Had you asked the students about it that night, you would have only gotten expressions of annoyance and confusion.

For example, Fuyuhiko Kuzuryu had said, in a loud hiss: “What the fuck was that? What kind of fuckin’ waste of time—”

And Kokichi Ouma, half-asleep, whined to no one in particular: “I really, really hate stand-up, you guys.”

That kind of thing.

///

Once she had finished her atrocious murder-themed set, Junko’s very best friends, at least, clapped at the forefront of the audience for her. Well…after Sayaka Maizono goaded everyone into it with an encouraging look, anyway.

Someone next to Sayaka leaned over to ask if she’d gotten the joke. Sayaka had not. Nor had anyone else.

///

They never would, either. Because Hope’s Peak loved Junko—because in this world, in this time, on this Saturday in early March, she loved it too. Loved them. That is to say: Junko liked to rile her classmates up like dogs, because she thought of them like dogs, but adored them like dogs, too. That is to say: she never thought to truly hurt them. That is to say: they had no reason to think she ever would.

Junko had seen a thousand possibilities as the Ultimate Analyst, and lived a thousand lives, in a sense. From her lofty position on stage, she stared out into the gently undulating ocean of gorgeous coed faces before her and knew that she could annihilate them completely. Shred their names from any and all records. Tear out every memory they had ever walked the earth. Kill them and blow their ashes away into the sea. All in the name of despair.

She had seen it happen, in her imagination.

It had bored her.

Monokuma Theater, on the other hand, and the perplexed expressions it brought—that excited this Junko. She was nothing if not a tease, after all.

“Thank you, thank you,” said Monokuma, as he and Junko bowed before their classmates. “I’ll be here all week, and forever, for eternity.” He raised a paw to the crowd. “I’m an artificial intelligence and I can’t die. It’s hell. But at least I have you all, my pals—puhuhuhu.”

#junko enoshima #monokuma #brief mentions of other characters #“non-despair/v3 class 79” AU #humor #monokuma theater #tw: mentions of serial killer activity #danganronpa fanfiction #danganronpa

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perpetualexistence · 4 months

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Tell us about your other Alenoaheather AU(s). I know you have them. 🔫

- Totally not Ophe

Hello completely random anon whose identity will forever be a mystery!

See, with the way you've phrased this, you've actually opened yourself up to a few options. I'll tell you a little bit about each one and you can tell me which one you want to learn more about first.

Currently unnamed G/T Alenoaheather

Definitely the most detailed AU of the bunch. It's got backstories and character arcs for each of the three. Probably the best way to describe it is Urban fantasy since none of them are (completely) human, but they pretty much live in a modern setting.

It does get dark at times. Think Beastars-adjacent in terms of vibes. Including the murder bits. But it's mostly self-defense or being forced into it, so take that as you will. I will say that it's nowhere near the levels of toxic relationships that something like the Sea Monster AU has. And they do actually improve as people. These three still get drama mind you, but it's from keeping secrets rather than being genuinely manipulative. ...Well. Too manipulative. It does have Alejandro and Heather in it. But it's got fluff moments because fluffy giant/tiny dynamics are precious and must be preserved at all costs.

It's got Alejandro who's a giant-shifter able to grow even larger than most other giant-shifters thank to his Burromuerto heritage. The Burromuertos are a completely upstanding giant-shifter family and definitely don't have any incredibly fucked up family traditions they expect Alejandro to continue.

Noah's a were-mongoose. Werefolk come in a large variety, though mongoose is on the far more uncommon side. Unlike most werefolk, this kid genius actually figured out a way to not completely give into his instincts during full moons. This has absolutely no negative repercussions on his wellbeing.

Heather who's a giant-shifter hybrid unable to grow thanks to her human heritage from her father's side. She's the only one of her siblings unable to grow. She definitely doesn't have a complex about this. But she has managed to find her own way of making herself just as much of a physical threat as her two boyfriends. (Aka the day I take away from Heather's inherent badassery is the day I die.)

Serial Killer AU

It's exactly what it sounds like. With exactly the vibes the name implies. Definitely the darker one. They're just a thriving villain throuple with a body count. It's also mostly Noah-focused so far as I haven't figured out Alejandro or Heather's motivations.

Noah stumbles across a body of a serial killer spree, only to be the first to realize that one serial killer is actually two. Curiosity leads him to investigate...but not for the reasons you'd think.

(For this one that's pretty much all I can share before just going into the whole AU)

And then, on the completed side since might as well dump all the Alenoaheather AUs:

Noah and the Beanstalk

Another giant/tiny AU! This one's actually got its own post already. I don't really have anything else that I didn't already mention in that post. But it's my blog, so I'll advertise my own AUs as I please!

Collab AUs

The Royal Court AU

Originally named The Lords In Black AU because it was originally inspired by me watching an animatic of The Summoning from Nerdy Prudes Must Die. Then it evolved into something far beyond that where the name doesn't seem quite right anymore.

It's got Alenoaheather as the worst teens at school and unashamed about it. ...Until Alejandro goes missing, and nobody else really seems to care. Leaving Heather and Noah to investigate and try their best not to be next.

They fail, but hey, at least they get cool eldritch powers out of it!

This AUs also dark because the premise is them being kidnapped to be used as sacrifices. And it's got plenty of eldritch horror in it. The posts for it are scattered because they ended up going into two separate reblog chains with @total-drama-brainrot and @ur-local-brown-multifandomist. If you look up 'lords in black au' on my blog you should be able to find most of it. I'm going to just centralize it for ease of organization one day. It'll just be. You know. Effort.

Also, @ur-local-brown-multifandomist is currently making a fic for it! It's their first one, so feel free to check it out.

Fake Dating Alenoaheather AU

This one's a collab AU between me and @total-drama-brainrot, a person you have never met because you are a completely anonymous anon. Noah gets caught in between Heather and Alejandro's attempts to make the other jealous by each making him pretend to be their boyfriend. Shenanigans and drama ensue. The posts for this are also scattered and tagged on both our blogs, and one day we might make a fic about it. For now, there actually is someone already making a fic about it that you can feel free to read!

I still can't believe two different people decided to start making fic of AUs I helped create. It's wild, and I'm incredibly touched.

"Why are all of these AUs except for one dark in at least some way?"

I honestly couldn't tell you exactly why my brain works the way it does. It just decided that the two canon villains and one-villain coded teenager deserve to be at least a little feral. As a treat.

Maybe one day I'll have an AU with them that's not so dark. That day will be a surprise to us all.

But yeah, that's all of the Alenoaheather AUs I got! The first two I'm more than happy to go into more detail for if you ask!

#perp answers ask #perp rambles #alenoaheather #alenoaheather au #td alenoaheather #lords in black au #giant/tiny #serial killer au #fake dating alenoaheather #cw murder #tw murder #murder mention #currently unnamed g/t alenoaheather au #i've seriously got to come up with a better name for tagging purposes #total drama

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