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aparticularbandit · 3 months

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Of An Endless Infinity: Day Two (III)

Summary: What does it mean to be the Ultimate Hope?

Is it only hope on the big scale? That the world is not so dark and depressing and destructive as the villain in front of you says it is? That you can win, even when everything else says that you can’t? That maybe it is better to live your life, even afraid, than it is to keep yourself sequestered away, alone?

Does it not also mean hope on the small scale?

Or: Makoto sacrifices himself in the hope that the other survivors might be able to help Junko. It remains to be seen whether this will actually succeed.

Chapter Rating: M for troubling imagery. Fic Rating: M for Danganronpa reasons.

Trigger Warning: Sequences of unreality re: hallucinations.

AO3

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Day Two (of an Endless Infinity).

There’s a debate – a foolish, stupid debate, if Kyoko has anything to say about it – over whether or not Junko would read her story aloud in one of the now quite abandoned classrooms while Toko and Kyoko and anyone else who wants to join could listen. The primary issues seems to be that Junko would like people to freely listen and enjoy, which runs quite counter to the idea of perhaps letting Toko read and critique. (Toko suggests that it’s harder to critique a story simply by listening to it, that it’s easier for her to take the whole thing in if she reads it herself; Junko suggests that listening to it means that Toko will get the story as a whole first without getting distracted by meaningless smaller things like words and grammar and sentence flow.) Kyoko thinks, as she sees Junko’s gaze flit to her every now and again, that this is just an excuse to lull her into rest, that Junko thinks this will function as a bedtime story of sorts (although how Junko could have written a bedtime story is beyond her) and that Kyoko will feel more comfortable in a room with potentially multiple other people (which is true, but still not likely).

Eventually, Junko crosses her arms with a huff as she sits on Kyoko’s mattress (it might as well be Junko’s at this point). “You could read one of your stories, too!” she suggests, staring at Toko. “That way, they can see the master up against the novice! What a story should sound like instead of what a struggling artist sounds like!” She holds out Blue Thread from the Scarred Mountain. “You could even read this one! I’ve already got my copy out and everything—”

“N-n-no!” Toko splutters, hands out in front of her as though to shove the book away. “I don’t want to read it aloud! I don’t want to read anything aloud! M-m-my books are…are not for audio consumption!”

Junko stares at her. Blinks twice. “Way to care about your visually-impaired readers, Toko.”

Toko’s face grows red, and her expression becomes a mixture of shame and frustration. “Th-that’s n-n-not what I meant!”

“Junko.” Kyoko places a hand, gentle, on Junko’s shoulder, as though that will still her. “You want her to read your story. She has agreed to that. Maybe pushing her further isn’t—”

“I’m so tired of being stuck in a dorm room, Kyokyo,” Junko whines, hands clenching into upset little fists. She looks up and meets Kyoko’s eyes with her own soft blue ones wide and feigning innocence. “We’ve only been here for days, and it’s already so boring.” Her lips press together, and she mumbles to herself, “I thought being stuck in the data rooms was boring, but at least then I had something to see—”

Kyoko squeezes Junko’s shoulder gently, cutting her off. “You don’t have to read anything aloud to be in a different room. We can move somewhere else.” She glances up, over to Toko, to check in. “If you don’t mind, of course.” Her gaze flicks back to Junko, and she hopes she is giving an appropriate look of consternation. “Somewhere our child won’t be bored?”

“I’m not a child—”

“I think….” Toko’s gaze drops to her barely tightened hands. “I think I know a place.”

“The Rec Room?”

Junko stands just inside the door, scanning the entire room as though she hasn’t been here a million times before, as though she hadn’t spent a great quantity of time keeping an eye on a suicide that happened exactly in this room. (One she could have prevented; one she’d prompted.) Yet she doesn’t show any sign of discomfort with being in the room, doesn’t show any sign of remembering with pain anything that she’d seen happen here.

(Kyoko doesn’t like to think about it – how Junko saw all of the murders firsthand, how Junko analyzed them to succinctly have written up files immediately ready as soon as a body was found, how Junko likely wrote all of those files during the process of the murder and then removed any information she didn’t want them to have. Like none of that mattered. Even the briefest thought of it now – she closes her eyes, and it’s like she’s in the Data Processing Room again, seeing the murders from every possible angle – like she’s staring at Junko, who looks on everything with glee.

(Something tells her that the others must have thought of her the same way; not with glee, certainly, but with that same gross disgust at how easily she could shut off all of her own emotions, how easily she could treat the bodies of those they’d once known as simply that – bodies – while searching for evidence. The similarity between them makes her nauseous; there is no similarity. None.)

Kyoko shakes her head to push all of those images from her mind; she is only mildly successful.)

Instead of thinking about any of that (or, at least, in service to the idea that she isn’t thinking about it (or to try and distract herself from it)), Kyoko keeps a careful eye on Junko, on her reactions, and another half of one on Toko, who holds three worn out old notebooks in her left hand and who seems to be paying more attention to her in this moment than to Junko. The moment Toko notices Kyoko’s half of a glance at her, however, she quickly looks away.

It takes a moment, but then Junko spins on her heel, twirls in a circle, and then lands in a pose facing the other two with her hands on her hips. “We are most pleased! This is a more than welcome change for our sensitivities! Bless you, peasant!”

Toko gives her a flat look, hand clenching on Junko’s notebooks. “Peasant?”

“We mean—!” Junko takes in a deep breath and then deflates. “Look, Toko, everyone’s a peasant—”

“Kyoko isn’t.” Toko shoots Kyoko a look full of utter loathing.

“That’s because she’s our best—” Junko cuts herself off. She crosses her arms and huffs, glancing away with the slightest flush across her cheeks.

Embarrassment?

Toko’s eyes narrow. “Your best knight?”

Junko shakes her head, lips pressing together into a thin line. “Fine,” she finally spits out, gaze darkening as it lifts to Toko. “Bless you, friend. Is that better?”

“N-n-no—”

“Knights can be peasants,” Kyoko says, remembering what Junko told her only the day before, her voice quiet and soft, more like she’s thinking it to herself than correcting anyone. “So it stands to reason that peasants can be knights.”

“I don’t want to be a knight,” Toko snaps out, “and I don’t want to be a friend. I just don’t want to be a peasant.” She takes a deep breath in and—

“Can you hear me?”

Junko snaps her fingers in front of Kyoko’s face.

Kyoko jumps. She takes a sharp breath and scans everything around her. They’re still in the Rec Room, which is good, and they aren’t alone this time because Toko sits curled up in one corner, nibbling on one of her braids thoughtfully as she reads through the second of Junko’s notebooks, a red ink pen primed in her hand. As Kyoko looks, Toko reaches down and writes something in the margins of the book. “What…what happened?”

“What happened when?” Junko asks, one brow raising. “We’ve been in here for hours. You suck at pool.” Her gaze shifts, and she scowls. “At pretty much any kind of pool game you can imagine. It’s like you’ve never played before.” She glances up and hums. “You’ve forgotten every game we’ve played, so I guess that tracks.”

“I don’t—”

Kyoko’s eyes widen. There, in the corner, opposite Toko, sits Makoto. She walks towards him, and he looks up to her, his green eyes glowing like computer code. “What are you—?”

“Keeping an eye on things.” Makoto gives her a soft, soft smile. Then he points to the nearest camera. “It’s fun, being on the other end of things. You should try it sometime!”

Her head tilts. “How—?”

“Kyokyo.” Junko places a hand on her shoulder, and Makoto flickers like a staticky old television. “What are you looking at?”

“You can’t see him?” Kyoko turns to Junko with a gesture to Makoto.

Junko glances past her. “See who?”

Kyoko turns back. There’s no one there. Worse, maybe, is the way Toko is staring at her, one of her braids stuck between her lips. She shivers and steps back. “Right,” she says, giving herself a little shake. “Right. There’s…there’s nothing.”

“Do you need to—?”

“No.” Kyoko avoids Toko’s eyes, even though she can feel the questions – the judgment – building unspoken, just resting on the tip of her sharp tongue. Comments that she knows might not be spoken to her but will be reported to Byakuya.

He will see her as weak.

She cannot afford to let him see her as weak.

If he does, he will try to—

Junko hangs from the ceiling.

A thick rope wraps tight around her neck, holding her in place.

Her neck is broken, tongue lolling out of her mouth on one side, eyes replaced with black-framed blue x’s, almost like she’s some sort of animated character.

Her arms are pulled out to either side of her and stabbed into place with Jack’s ornamental scissors. But this is not one of Genocide Jack’s serial murders. It can’t be – too much of the blood is that bright, bright pink. But some of it is still red, just these slight drops that plip plop from Junko’s fingertips in the spread of sparkling pink beneath her. Each drop of red spreads out, swirls, a kaleidoscope, hypnotic.

Kyoko bends down to look at those swirls.

In the blood, she sees herself, flat on her back, eyes wide open and staring up, up, up—

She meets her own eyes.

It’s the sneeze that snaps Kyoko back into…into something.

The sneeze and the stifled cackling, the sharp sching of scissors used as knives, of something hitting hard into the pool table.

Kyoko doesn’t open her eyes – her eyes have always been open, she’s just seeing something else, something that isn’t there – but the scene shifts around her. She sees Jack, crouched atop the pool table, a pair of scissors snapping open and closed in one hand; she sees Junko with a maniacal grin on her face, cue like a monk’s staff in one hand, the other out, palm up, fingers flexing in a come at me gesture.

Okay.

This can’t be real.

Maybe she really should sleep.

Still.

This is Junko and Jack. Even if it isn’t real, she should act like it is. Because even if this is a stupid scenario—

It doesn’t matter. Seeing them fight, Kyoko realizes that any move she makes would just put her in their way.

Jack leaps forward. Junko hits her atop the head. Jack crouches down and runs forward again. Junko hits her atop the head again and dodges backward. “You can’t get me!” she teases, sticking her tongue out and blowing a (blue) raspberry at her.

“Not you,” Jack huffs out. She glances back, meets Kyoko’s eyes, and then cackles. “Then I’ll get you first, Ms. Knighty Knight!” She runs at her.

Kyoko’s exhausted. Even on a good day, she’s not fast. She’s not strong. And this isn’t a good day. Besides, she’s still fairly certain that none of this is real. So when everything switches into slow-motion, when she sees Jack racing for her, when she sees Junko throw the cue at Jack while racing to cut Jack off—

The cue hits Jack square in the back, pauses her just long enough for

Junko to race ahead of her, to get between her and Kyoko, but then Jack is up, and Kyoko, fitting into the moment, lets Junko grab her and then whirls. Holds her hand up. Intercepts—

Her hands are important. She’s dealt with pain to them before.

Junko’s eyes become flames.

Literal flames. On the side of her head—

Something snaps.

Kyoko comes to flat on her back in the Rec Room. She glances around; Toko is gone, and the notebooks are gone with her. It takes a second look before she catches sight of Junko, who kneels down to peer at her. She takes a deep breath. “What happened?”

“You passed out.” Junko sighs. She shifts Kyoko over and places a hand on one of the tiles in the Rec Room floor. After a second, a keypad appears, and she presses a code into it, one that Kyoko still can’t make out. “You passed out,” she repeats, “and Toko went to get help.”

That’s a lie…isn’t it?

Her hand hurts.

Kyoko blinks twice. “She left me alone with you.”

Junko’s head tilts to one side. “You know what? She did.”

That means something. Kyoko knows that means something. Something important. But she can’t think of what. Her brain is fuzzy. She tries to push herself up, winces. "I should tell her that I’m fine.”

“Sure, sure. Lie to the poor thing. That will make everything better.” Junko waits for Kyoko to give up. Then she gathers her in her arms and holds her to her chest, brushing her fingers lightly through Kyoko’s hair.

Kyoko knows she should struggle. Knows that she shouldn’t feel good about this. But it’s…nice. Really…really nice.

It’s calming.

(She shouldn’t feel calmed by Junko.)

“I told you, Kyokyo,” Junko croons before hefting her, repositioning her, and then lowering her slowly, gently through the misplaced tile. “Your body will collapse again eventually. You need to sleep.” She climbs down behind her and just as gently slides the tile back into place. “If you don’t, then terrible things could happen.”

Kyoko struggles to sit up again, but her body will not listen to her. “Is this a terrible thing?” she asks, barely managing to get the words out. “Is this a terrible thing?”

“No.” Junko reaches out and just touches the now shortened strands of Kyoko’s hair out of her face, the part that was once a braid but is so no longer. “Your ribbon,” she murmurs. “You should have that.” Her own pink hair drifts in waves about her shoulders, waves set from drying in the French braid Kyoko’d given her. Then she shakes her head and very, very nearly smiles. “Rest, Kyokyo. Your queen will keep our most sacred knight safe from the other peasants. Don’t worry.”

As Junko cradles Kyoko in her arms again, holding her gentle against her chest, and sets off down another tunnel, Kyoko considers what she wants to tell her – that she doesn’t have an option. Of course, she’s worried. Some part of her, still lucid, is terrified.

But most of her?

Most of her is just too exhausted to care.

And held tight against Junko’s chest, held so carefully and so gently, she feels….

Safe.

Kyoko takes a final, deep breath, closes her eyes, and lets herself rest.

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spiralingdownmymajesty · 7 months

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Starting to regret it already. I know I said I would do anything for love but none of them love me.

It’s just

I wanted to find her. Or at least someone like her. Someone who would pay attention to me and make me feel like I had purpose. Someone who was kind to me.

They all just..use me.

And maybe she did too but..she loved me.

They all expect me to automatically do anything they want but they don’t give me anything in return. I’m just a young plaything to them.

With Junko everything was so, so, so much better.

I want you back. Please.

-Mikan💉

#mikan tsumiki alter #mikan alter #mikan tsumiki fictive #mikan fictive #cw vent #tw vent #danganronpa fictive #junko enoshima mention #source call #I guess #vent cw #cw abandonment #cw sui ideation #cw junkan #junkan

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junko-enoshima-bitch · 6 months

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FRONTING AGAIN OBLIGATORY MIKAN SIMPING POST GO!!!!

#danganronpa fictive #danganronpa introject #danganronpa #junko fictive #danganronpa alter #junko enoshima #tw junkan

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clickingkeys · 2 years

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Day Fifteen: Circus

Fandom: Super Dangan Ronpa 2 Warnings: Spoilers for the first chapter of Danganronpa, Trigger Happy Havoc. This story depicts a somewhat detailed image of how that chapter ends. Also, this little story depicts Junko/Mikan as a ship, which I write as an unhealthy relationship which should not be emulated. Relationships: Junko Enoshima/Mikan Tsumiki Summary: Mikan finds herself in the Circus of Despair.

I don’t truly support Junko/Mikan as a ship, since it’s obviously very toxic. This might be obvious by now, but Ibuki/Mikan is one of my top ships. However, I thought this little drabble was fun to write and explore for a bit. :3

#nhhpromptober #junkan #junko x mikan #danganronpa halloween #spoilers for danganronpa: trigger happy havoc #tw: unhealthy relationship

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danggirlronpa · 3 months

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Not the Pekoshima anon who originally talked about the ship, but I am so Invested in pekoshima my god, I have to talk about it. Okay so - with both Ultimate Despair's we see (discounting DR3 because. I don't like it), Nagito and Mikan, I find them very interesting. Mikan in chapter 3 obviously isn't behaving well - murder and all - but she also seems to recognize for possibly the first time ever that how people treated her was wrong (questioning why they treated her this way, acknowledging it wasn't fair, even calling the cast a bunch of bullies in scorn). Which is... such interesting characterization! It's one of the reasons I can't exactly buy how Junkan is presented in DR3 - in her FTEs, how people treated Mikan was normal to her, and she didn't seem to fully realize it was wrong. In the third trial, Mikan talks as if she knows how she was treated was wrong, and singles out Junko as being different, having forgiven her. In her final FTE, she says that Hajime has forgiven her too, implying to me that Junko did the same thing as Hajime did during their FTEs together, just with malicious intent (strengthening the Hajime/Izuru and Ryouko/Junko parallels and solitifying both Chiaki and Hajime in SDR2 as "the kindness the remnants never had" - kindness that ultimately leads to them triumphing over Junko this time). So in DR3, it didn't make much sense to me that Junko treated Mikan just as everyone else in Mikan's life has. Kicking her and berating her. Of course, with brainwashing she didn't need to be kind, but before DR3 came out, I always thought Junko operated more like... she would make you go one step forward, and two steps back. She would present herself as if solving your problems and helping you, but that was just to her own ends. We see this in Nagito too - when he's in DR:AE as a remnant of despair, his ideals have changed drastically from SDR2, and I'd go so far as to say what he preaches in DR:AE to be a better philosophy - though how far he's willing to go for it, still bad. So, the conclusion I reached was that every remnant would have some sort of ironic twist - something they improved upon, only for their other behaviors to be worse, like Nagito and Mikan.

So Hiyoko wouldn't be bully - but maybe it would be too much in the other direction, where she was obedient to a fault. Never talking without permission, sitting still like a doll, only doing what she was told.

Kaizuchi, perhaps, would no longer be obsessed with Sonia, someone who didn't like him back, and instead fixate on Junko, who welcomed his obsession...

And Peko, who used to think she was a tool... perhaps she would finally realize she was human. Perhaps she would realize this, and despair at such a fact.

Because it would mean she failed. She failed to become a tool for Fuyuhiko, and suddenly everything done to her wasn't "training a tool" but a tragedy. Her life was a tragedy. The very fact that she is human is despair, but that despair itself proves she is human. I imagine she could get very twisty and turny in her thoughts about this.

I also have the headcanon that Peko and Fuyuhiko during the despair times switches roles. Fuyuhiko always took on too much responsibility, and hey, here's your old pal Junko here to set you straight! You don't need to take so much onto yourself! It's painful, isn't it? Taking the burden of making choices. Being human. Who wants that responsibility? Why not give it to someone else? Oh hey, look at that, it's your old pal Peko! She'll take the brunt of responsibility from now on! From now on, Peko is the master and Fuyuhiko is the tool!

I just love the idea of Junko doing these ironic little twists. Helping them in some way only to fuck them over in others. Junko makes Peko realize she's human, and because of that, Peko cannot help but both love and resent her. Real toxic yuri shit going on.

(TW this gets a lil gory at the end)

This is a really good take on Junko's strategy!! My Junko analysis is similar but not quite the same. I've always viewed Junko as a monkey's paw. Whoever you are, she gives you exactly what you want, in its totality - but at the expense of your happiness.

Mikan's desire for someone to care for her becomes excessive dependency and blind devotion. Ryota's desire to become a successful animator who doesn't have to think about talking to others or existing in the real world becomes the complete destruction of that world, and his animated work as the most influential to ever exist. Nagito's desire to become a force which others can step on to find hope becomes Nagito ensuring the legacy of the greatest despair he possibly can, so that no 'fake' hopes can bypass his rigorous test - only a True Ultimate Hope can overcome and finally lead the world to victory.

Despair - for Junko - is the knowledge that you have succeeded, and everything is even worse than if you hadn't. Because Junko is Always succeeding, and she's Always in despair. Nothing challenges her. The only thing that she can't predict is pure dumb luck, which Makoto leverages against her both in THH and SDR2 to enable her defeat. Junko, like Izuru, is one of the most successful people to ever exist, and it SUCKS. So of course she is dragging people down the exact same way she herself is dragged down. Of course she shows people obvious, glowing success, in such a way that it tears down the entire world they once knew. Because this way - if one day unimaginably, they break their bonds - they will never, ever experience true hope again. Because their hopes are what destroyed them. Their hope brings about despair.

So from that perspective, I think you're dead on the money with Fuyuhiko, who loathes his position and wants to be free of the burden of responsibility (wouldn't it be easier, to be a tool, too? Aren't you tired of telling people to die? Shouldn't you take responsibility yourself, if there's killing to be done?). But Peko's desire is to be a tool. Rather than teaching Peko how to become her own person, I personally think that Junko would put Peko through the paces of both physical and psychological torture to turn her into a complete unfeeling instrument, exactly like Peko wanted. Once you've been in a 1-foot cell with no other people for a week, once you've been given Pavlovian training to receive an endorphin rush when holding your own spilling viscera in your hands - affection, agency, memory all fade away. There's just the next order. Exactly like Peko wanted.

#ask to tag #pekoshima #headcanons #peko pekoyama #junko enoshima #sdr2 #dr3 #talk to the mod #asks #anon #we dont talk enough about junkos on-screen propensity for ruthless physical torture #lets go back to that time she scooped out a member of the steering committee's eyes with a spoon. thats the type of shit she inflicts

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sleepyeditz · 3 years

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⁽っ＾▿＾⁾ ᵖˡˢ ˡᶦᵏᵉ ᵒʳ ʳᵉᵇˡᵒᵍ ᶦᶠ ˢᵃᵛᵉ

⁽╥﹏╥⁾ ᵖˡˢ ᶜʳᵉᵈᶦᵗ ᶦᶠ ʳᵉᵖᵒˢᵗᵎᵎ

#junkomikan #tw: junkomikan #tw: junkan #junkan #tw: junkomiki #junkomiki #pastel pink #danganronpa #danganronpa kin #dangan kin #> request complete !~#danganronpa goodbye despair #mikan kin #mikan tsumiki #mikan tsumiki kin #danganronpa trigger happy havoc #junko enoshima #junko kin #junko enoshima kin

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angieyonag · 3 years

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meow meow

#tw: junkan #tw: junkomikan #tw: junkomiki #junkan #junkomikan #junkomiki #danganronpa goodbye despair #danganronpa #junko enoshima #mikan tsumiki

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princescar · 28 days

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Happy Birthday Mikan!

As celebration, you guys get PYWWR headcanons for her!

Mikio Tsumiki! The Ultimate Nurse!

•Still apart of class 77, still becomes a remnant of despair, but no brainwashing!(Yay!)

•Was bullied as a kid (and still is) for his feminine qualities, still experiencing the same traumatic stuff that's in canon

•Loves his job as a nurse! He loves the feeling of being needed and caring for others!

•Has been offered the opportunity to become an actual medical doctor, but has refused everytime. He prefers his current job.

•Often experiences harrassment for being a male nurse. Bullies will often call him homophobic slurs and make him dress in skimpy nurse costumes.

•Great with kids though! But it's a mix of genuinely being good with kids and letting them do whatever they want to him.

•Has a bunch of candy in his pockets. He gives them to people when they are feeling sad (plus advice about how to only consume sweets in small amounts. People usually forget why they were sad after his lecture).

•Clumsy. Even though most of the time it's for attention, dear God, don't let him near glass objects.

•Loves horror movies! Is it bad that he daydreams about being in them? (A certain twintailed blonde says "Of course not!")

•Is still madly in love with Junko. He knows that she is a drag persona, and even though he's never seen Ryo out of drag, he still loves him with all his heart!

•Fell in love with both Ryo and Junko! He fell in love with Ryo because he wasn't ashamed to flaunt his feminine qualities. Junko is everything he wants to be, and he often daydreams about making his own drag persona and preforming with Junko.

•Has only seen Ryo out of drag once, and that was when he scavenged his body after the Killing Game.

#eyestrain #Just a bit tho #mikan #danganronpa mikan #mikan tsumiki #junkan #genderbend #danganronpa #sdr2 #PYWWR #scardraws #tw sa implied #tw homophobia

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paigeyintheclouds-archive · 2 years

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No reply icon for this but-

I’d suggest you go block @/hamuko-san (and k0k0midess on Twitter)

They’re a popular Omori fan artist on tumblr and after looking through their blog, I realized that they’ve drawn a lot of, questionable stuff

The rest will be under the cut

Read the tags for trigger warnings

Reasons to block hamuko-san

1) Proship ship art

After scrolling through their blog, I found a piece of artwork that was for Aubrey x Hero. This ship is very morally wrong because Aubrey is 16 while Hero is 19

And on their Twitter account I found out they also retweet JunKan (Junko x Mikan). What I also found was artwork made by setosexual, tamatona3, and snuflin on Twitter (both somewhat well known Sunny Side Up shippers, again this ship being a proshipper ship due to the age gap)

They also tend to draw Mari and Aubrey a lot together, though I’m unsure if this is ship art or just in general art, I would be weary though

2) Questionable Aubrey artwork

While scrolling through their blog, I found out they draw Aubrey in very questionable scenarios

Drawing Sunny and Aubrey in suggestive poses

Drawing Aubrey where her undergarments show

Drawing Headspace!Aubrey doing the jack-o-challenge (which is a suggestive pose trend)

Drawing Headspace!Aubrey and Omori too close for comfort (I’m not describing the image in further detail)

3) Questionable Mari artwork

Similar with Aubrey, the artist has drawn Mari (specifically Headspace!Mari) in equally eyebrow raising scenarios

From revealing catgirl outfits to revealing bunny suits

There might be more examples, though I either have forgotten them or don’t have anyway to find them

4) Other odd artwork / reoccurring themes

These are just other artworks I can think of that raise an eyebrow

Sweetheart x Spaceboy depicted as romantic (their relationship in game is abusive and the game doesn’t try to hide it)

Hero artwork where he covered a sandwich in front of his privates (has been depicted in two different posts, one with Headspace!Hero)

An uncomfortable amount of nsfw jokes told through Kel

These are the main points that I immediately found in the artist’s account(s). Please take the chance to block their account(s). The art they make is eyebrow raising and this especially worries me considering not a lot of people really take a notice to this, and from what I found, the artist has hidden comments before.

Jack-O-Pose Aubrey post

Questionable Aubrey and Omori post

Overall, please be wary of this artist.

#important post #callout post #omori #tw proship #tw proshipper #tw sexualization of minors #tw junkan #ask to tag #please ask if I need to tag this any further #mothiedontlook #mothie don’t look #dex don’t look

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syrups-edit-corner · 2 years

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A Junkan (Danganronpa) Moodboard with pink yanderecore

Requested by: Anon

#mod kokichi #moodboard #Junkan #junko x mikan #Mikan x Junko #danganronpa #mikan danganronpa #junko danganronpa #proship #proshipping #yanderecore #tw yandere #ask to tag

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aparticularbandit · 3 months

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Of An Endless Infinity: Day Two (I)

Summary: What does it mean to be the Ultimate Hope?

Does it not also mean hope on the small scale?

Or: Makoto sacrifices himself in the hope that the other survivors might be able to help Junko. It remains to be seen whether this will actually succeed.

Chapter Rating: T. Fic Rating: M for Danganronpa reasons.

Trigger Warning: Sequences of unreality.

AO3

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Day Two (of an Endless Infinity).

Kyoko does not wake Hina.

There are a couple of reasons for this: the first, and least important, being simply that she does not want to wake her. Junko was right; they are all exhausted, worn out by the trials of the Game they’ve been forced through (the Game she forced them through; Kyoko, don’t make this passive; you know with whom the blame lies), and if Hina needs to rest in the arms of someone she (should not) trust, to be comforted by someone who doesn’t seem opposed to that sort of physical touch, as a mother with her child, then Kyoko will not deprive her of it. Even if it is Junko.

The second reason, and the most important, in Kyoko’s opinion, is that she does not want to wake her. Hina may have joined them to take over watches of the night, so that they could split their time between keeping an eye on Junko (or, in Kyoko’s case, equally making sure that no one else tries to do anything to her) and getting snatches of rest. But even though Hina slumbers soundly curled up with her head in Junko’s lap, that doesn’t mean that murderous, vengeful rage Kyoko’d seen sparked in her won’t return. In fact, perhaps that’s why she was sent instead of one of the others – not because she drew the first straw, but because she would be the one Kyoko wouldn’t see coming. (Except that she already has.)

(Byakuya is obvious, as would be Toko, who would only need to sneeze for that more murderous side of her to take over and complete their commanded duty. Hiro would be the best option, but part of her is convinced he can’t kill anyone, that he’s never hated anyone so completely as to consider murder an option, not even during the Game. But Hina? There was a moment when Hina not only tried to convince them all of her vengeful rage but also tried to use it to kill all of them, by having them mistakenly believe she was mad enough with Sakura to murder her, rather than realize she was that mad with the rest of them. Even if it failed, the very attempt – far beyond what any of the rest of them did – is proof of her ability. Of her danger.)

Even if Hina were awake, Kyoko wouldn’t feel comfortable enough to sleep, and so why wake her? It would do neither of them any good. At least this way one of them gets to rest.

Or. Well. Two of them, in this case.

When Kyoko finishes loosely french-braiding Junko’s hair, some strands of which are so thin as to break under her fingertips, unable to escape that now loudly present scent of blue raspberries, Junko kisses her forehead. “For our most faithful knight.”

Kyoko’s eyes widen in a mixture of disgust and surprise as she pulls away. “What—”

Junko laughs, a pleasantly endearing sound. (This is how Kyoko knows she needs sleep. There is nothing either pleasant or endearing about Junko Enoshima.) “I’m a fucking idiot,” she murmurs in that harsh way she has, and yet so soft as to still not wake Hina. She reaches up and rubs her thumb across Kyoko’s forehead, where she’d only just kissed her. “Lipstick. Cooties. All that good stuff.”

“You wear lipstick to sleep?” Kyoko asks incredulously as she pulls away from Junko’s now much rougher touch.

“N-n-no.” Junko flinches away from her. “That’s…that’s disgusting!”

Kyoko raises an eyebrow. “Even for the Ultimate Fashionista?” She meets her eyes. “For the Ultimate Despair?”

Junko rolls her eyes. “There’s nothing despair-inducing about wearing lipstick to sleep. That’s just dumb.” She shrugs, eyes flicking to Kyoko’s forehead and then away again. “Cooties, obviously. Wouldn’t want you to catch any of mine.”

“But we’re both girls,” Kyoko says, thinking nothing of the assertion or what it could mean.

“So?”

Kyoko’s head tilts to one side. “If I remember correctly, the assertion that cooties are bad only pertained to the mixing of girl cooties – the pink ones – with boy cooties – the blue ones. Together, the two created purple cooties, which are hazardous and potentially fatal to your health.” She blinks twice. “Not your health in specific, but to one’s health, in general.”

Junko’s brow furrows in consideration. “What about Chihiro?” she asks. Then, before Kyoko can say that she doesn’t know, she continues, “What about people who are both? Or neither? People who don’t live in either extreme?” A pause, then, finally, softer, “What about people who aren’t anything?”

If she were more fully present, Kyoko would take this question for what it is and would maybe give it the weight it might more properly deserve. And to be honest? It’s equally possible that would be the wrong response. As it is, Kyoko gives a little shake of her head and says, “I don’t think cootie lore takes everyone into account. It’s just a children’s tale. It isn’t true.”

“Right.” Junko chuckles, but her voice takes on that tone that would make mushrooms sprout out of her head if she wanted. “Just a children’s tale.”

Kyoko takes that as her cue to move away, and she does. Soon after, Junko repositions herself, curling on her side toward Hina, who shifts and lets out an unhappy little sound until Junko runs a single finger gentle along the curve of her spine. She murmurs something Kyoko can’t make out in a comforting tone, and Hina settles with a sigh of something like contentment. Within a few more moments, Junko, too, is asleep, although this time she doesn’t snore. It’s possible that was all a ruse. (It’s possible this is.)

Either way, Kyoko settles in for another round of not sleeping.

In the earliest hour of the morning, Kyoko picks up Blue Thread from the Scarred Mountain. She runs the pad of her thumb over the autograph etched inside, then flips to the first page and begins to read. It doesn’t take long before she realizes she’s too tired to follow the story. That can’t bode well.

Another hour passes, and Kyoko considers that it would be wise to install a coffee pot of her own in her dorm. She was exhausted before the caffeine crash; now that she can feel it coming on, she struggles to keep her eyes open.

But she will.

She must.

Just after three in the morning, the door to Kyoko’s dorm clicks open, and she sits up in shock. Somehow, she’d been slumped over, although she can’t remember just how she got into that position. The first thing she does is check the bed – but that’s the same as it was before, Hina and Junko both still there together, although Hina’s curled away from Junko at this point and Junko’s pulled a pillow against her again. Only then does her gaze sweep to the dorm room door, which stands just ajar.

She should go check it, but she can’t convince her body to move.

Something pushes the door open further, and the ghost of a shape she knows but should not be able to see peeks through. “Kyoko?”

Her throat dries. Even if she wanted to say something, she can’t.

He steps into her dorm – the first time he’s done so while she’s been here – and gazes over the scene before him. Then he seems to smile. “Good!” he says with the most hopeful tone imaginable. “You’re doing it!”

Doing what, exactly?

Her eyes prick with something – they can’t be tears; she doesn’t cry – but she raises a gloved hand to rub at them. As she does, she hears the door start to click shut. She reaches out, not quite seeing.

“Makoto!”

But he’s gone.

If he was ever there to begin with.

It isn’t long after that that Kyoko forces herself out of her chair. She goes to the door and places her hand flat against it. There’s no warmth there. If he had opened the door, if he’d come through and chosen to leave, then he would be long gone by now. She can’t follow him to wherever it is he’s hidden.

That’s a foolish hope.

The most reasonable explanation is this: after so long without sleep, people begin to hallucinate. This, then, must be her first hallucination. Fortunate for her that the first happened when no one else was around to notice, when no one else could call out that she was looking at something - or someone, in this case – who wasn’t there.

Because that’s the truth of the matter, isn’t it? That Makoto wasn’t there. That he couldn’t have been there. Because he’s—

A hallucination like a dream, her brain forcing itself to run through what it needs to process even as her eyes are open, demanding her to face an inconvenient truth. An inconvenient desire. That somehow, not knowing what he thought or even what he wanted, she’s still following through on his hope. That somehow, even without any sleep, she’s doing well.

As though it should matter to her what anyone else thinks of her. As though she should be seeking someone else’s approval.

If this is what her hallucinations are going to be like, Kyoko can’t wait to see her dad show up. She’ll give him a good piece of her mind. She should be more likely to notice, right off the bat, that she’s hallucinating, so maybe…maybe she won’t. But in the thrall of the thing, would she truly notice? Or, like a dream, will it all feel real until she wakes up? Until she sees the startled faces of her friends staring at her? (If they can even still be called that – no, she can’t think like that; Makoto wouldn’t think like that.)

Kyoko’s fingers curl against the door. She taps her knuckles against it twice. Then she turns, leans her back against it, and slumps down until she’s sitting on the ground. At least this way, if the door opens again, she’ll know one way or the other.

(She already knows. This will only leave her open to despair. She already knows.)

Shortly before the breaking of a dawn she cannot see, Kyoko sees Makoto again. A greenish light filters through the armored windows in a way that it never has before, illuminating him from behind. He smiles at her so gently, so warmly that she can’t help but believe that he’s really there. He rubs the back of his neck awkwardly, then says, “You really should sleep, Kyokyo.”

She flinches.

The hallucination fades away, leaving only the Ultimate Despair standing before her, all light gone.

Junko crouches down in front of her and places her hands on Kyoko’s knees. “If you don’t get any sleep, then terrible things could happen.”

Kyoko stares up at her, steels herself as much as possible, and says, “Don’t you know, Junko? Terrible things have already happened.” She grits her teeth together, eyes focusing on a stain like blood on Junko’s Sweetie Pants. “My sleeping didn’t prevent them.”

“Your sleeping prevents terrible things from happening to you.”

It’s easy, to scoff at such a thing, to think that the worst things that could happen to her have already happened to her. And maybe that’s true. Maybe nothing worse can happen. Not to her.

But that’s just despair, creeping in and curling around her heart.

(Maybe the worst thing that can happen is that nothing good can ever happen again – or believing that – and she’s not there yet. She knows that, too. That, at least, gives her something to hold onto.)

“Why do you care?” Kyoko asks, exhausted. “Don’t you want me dead?”

Junko doesn’t say anything to that. She just pats Kyoko’s knee twice. Her long, fake nails scratch gently across her skin. When she finally opens her mouth to speak—

“Wait, what?” Hina sits up in bed, rubbing her eyes with one hand, and looks around with disgust. “I didn’t….” Her bleary, sleepy eyes narrow, and she glares at Junko. “I didn’t sleep with you, right? That…that didn’t happen.”

Junko flashes Kyoko a bright grin and a wink, an expression that shifts into one of feigned chagrin as she turns to Hina. “I don’t know what you want us to say, peasant. Would you prefer the truth? Or a lie?”

Kyoko barely listens as she pushes herself up by the palms of her hands. Right now, depending on the question, she could almost convince herself she wants the lie. That’s what her hallucinations seem to be telling her, anyway. That she would rather the lie of a living Makoto than face the truth of his very real death.

But no.

Kyoko is a detective.

Not just a detective. The Ultimate Detective. She thrives on the truth, hidden as it may be, and the truth is what she must – she will – take.

Even if it hurts.

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