#rain code negative

[bodhrancomedy]

Look, I’m really enjoying RainCode except for one thing.

Can I PLEASE have a female guide character who isn’t just a combination of some gamer’s wet dream? It wouldn’t be so bad (I’d still hate it) if the MC isn’t also constantly asking her to stop flirting with him and she’s just not constantly in incredibly sexualised poses.

Just to emphasise, I adore literally every other part of this game. I’m just so fed up of female characters being designed and written like this.

[olliepurples]

mdarc chapter 4 spoilers (tw negative)

i'm a couple of doors into the mystery labyrinth, and it's getting a little annoying having shinigami and yuma go "but how could this have happened? who could have done this?" when i literally knew it was yakou as soon as the game told me that the poison had a delay. this is so silly like "how could anyone have got past this, they would have died in thirty minutes!" ok! narrow your suspect pool to people who die in the next thirty minutes then! damn!!!

[rainbow-journalist]

Silly sketches

Hi, I made some small doobles, without details, just sketches, yesterday on the table, unfortunately I didn't do it in the notebook, and I had to erase it, so I thought: "why not try to draw this digitally?"

I had made some characters that I would like to make a complete drawing of, buuuuuuut, I'm lazy, and my style isn't that good, even though I've already done the others. The characters present here are the ones that I find interesting for the plot and therefore, I wanted to see how they look in my style. Also, sorry for the bad English and the huge text below. These are not good drafts anyway.

Let's go with the first one!

........I-I can explain.

I was thinking about chapter 4, and I was looking at drawings by this artist (Yakou looks great in their style!) so I was curious, how I could draw Yakou in my style, Also....eh, does he look good in a security uniform? It made me wonder a little bit and that's why Yuma was there in the background...that was very suspicious.

I confess that I wasn't drawing him much yesterday, he actually looks pretty good here? I'm having trouble drawing his hair in a way that I like and am satisfied with. I know, I need to practice more, draw him more, I would like to draw him with Yuma. (kokolight?), but I'm lazy, and I have to draw Vivia more, help!!

I swear to you, she was the one I loved drawing the most yesterday, it's not the best sketch you'll see, but I loved her!! I would like to draw her more often, I love imagining that she became Makoto's right hand, and she protects him, I can see her as a great fighter. I love seeing the dynamics of a female character protecting a male character, especially because Makoto is too small and fragile for him to fight alone, and she has an umbrella, She can protect him from the rain while strolling around Kanai Ward, right? I want to do something with it.....!! aaaaaa

I loved drawing him too, I also like to imagine that he continues by Makoto's side and in Amaterasu, Seth could be someone from the medical sector, I like to imagine him and Martina protecting Makoto, and being loyal to him in every decision the CEO makes, and supporting his relationships as well. Also, they might be worried about Makoto is pushing himself too hard at work after the game, they would probably support the boss taking a break. Seth deserves the best, and I think he looks cute in my style.

last one

Stop thinking about Makoto, Ugh 🙄✋

Yomi seemed the easiest for draw his hair, still having trouble making the outfit, but the hair is much easier. I've never drawn him and the others before, so I get obsessed at first with trying to make them as close to Canon as possible, after days of drawing the same thing, I manage to adapt a style for them, Like, they were an alternate version of the game version. I try to make them as recognizable as possible. This is the case with my version of Makoto and Yuma, my current obsession.

Still thinking about chapter 4, I may not like Yomi, but he can be interesting... I think of him as the fake villain in terms of narrative. Tw: spoilers

Yomi continues to be a villain who does bad things, but the narrative tries to make you believe that he is the true villain of the game, while Makoto is the mastermind, the true antagonist of the game, Got it? Yomi is like bait for you to believe that he is the only evil, even though Makoto's motivations are noble, and he hates Yomi's actions, there's still that thing. I was also thinking about a Boss fight, Genshin Impact Scaramouche style, where you would use Yakou, Yuma, Vivia, Shinigami and Makoto, as the main playable characters in the fight, Yomi would be your opponent, and every time you used Makoto in the fight, he would have exclusive lines just for the CEO.

Also, thinking about Makoyomi ship, it's a toxic ship that people like, huh? I like to imagine Makoto annoying Yomi every single day, even post game. I don't know if I'll draw this in the future.

Ok, I think the end now, I don't have much more to say, they are small drafts that I wish I had done in the notebook, because they were better yesterday, Also, this was just an excuse for me to show which characters I want to draw in the future, besides the ones I've already shown here and my favorites. ✨

[growling]

making canon!yomi a system i don't even care. put more fucked up dudes inside of him

[seth-burroughs]

The reason why we didn't learn the names of the chapter 1 suspects is because we didn't need to. It didn't matter what their names were, only their roles as the priest, the nun with a broken arm, the servant who found the rope ladder in the incinerator and couldn't commit the first murder due to his size, and the regular worshipper with no access to the incinerator but with a lot of knowledge on the Nail Man. Same as the boy that Yuma helps.

In chapter 2, Kurumi knew the suspects personally - they were going to the same academy, and there is really no better way to refer to them other than by their names.

In chapter 3, Yuma is being personally introduced to the Resistance by Shachi, in order to get to know them somewhat and possibly get persuaded to either join or work for them. We need their names for that.

In chapter 4, there is literally One Guy, Dr. Huesca, and there is absolutely no reason not to call him by his name. Fink is also here but who cares about Fink let's be honest.

We didn't need to attach ourselves to the church crew. Yuma and Halara were at the time pretending to be peacekeepers doing an interrogation. It's really not a strange or bad writing choice. It would be way more odd if we got introduced to Father Adeline, Sister Fuyuko, the servant guy Josh Smith we don't really respect him that much tbh, and don't forget our favourite regular Dark Iplier who puts his whole wallet on the tray every sunday so we forgive him for replacing the holy water in the stoup with diesel and tempting small children to chug it for fake pokemon cards

[highoncatfood]

ohhhhh just finished raincode and im having a lot of complicated feelings. i feel like i need to write a looong long summary of my thoughts abt the game as a whole but as of rn i can say that in the end i did like it. even though i only sincerely became interested in it from chapter 4 on lol but anyway chapter 5 intrigued me so fucking much i finally felt like this is an actual well produced story. the epilogue broke me it made me so silly sad i cant help but think "aw. these r my little guys. i only wish for them to be happy." but yeah the game could use a few changes and improvements imo but its fine. i enjoy being into it

[moldsporr]

Can we have a Seth and Dominic please?

This also includes Seminic

Alrighty!

Seth had a really strong first introduction, but since he never shows up again after his chapter, he quickly gets buried under all the other characters for me. I absolutely love what we got, but I wish there had been more. Maybe him showing up to take down Yomi too, or a passing mention of him surviving, or... anything, really. Honestly he really suffers from the game only having 5 chapters and each chapter focusing on one main villain and case per chapter. He's so cute and I wanna squish him, I need more of him <33

Dominic also has a lot of Seth's issues, but. Uh. I cannot talk about Dominic without talking about how much it really, REALLY sucks that he just. Does not get any speaking lines whatsoever. And how... racist it is. Did none of the staff think that having the ONLY dark-skinned character not speak and be characterized as a strong idiot who can only follow simple orders was... not iffy, at the very least??? I'm glad the fandom gives him more character but it was frankly shitty and made me mad. I got so pumped for him in all honesty. I was so curious why he had the cyborg parts and what his motivations were. And they gave us nothing. Like, literally nothing. Does he even have a loading screen trivia??? They could've done a lot more with his character, and it makes me sad that they just didn't do anything with him. His dynamic with Guillaume could've been explored and taken so many directions.

Anyways, Dominic and Seth are very underutilized in the story and the team really dropped the ball for Dominic especially, but I adore what the fandom has done with them so far! I have a whole backstory for Dominic in my head actually. I will give him an actual character <333

As for Semenic, I can definitely see the appeal. While I personally don't ship it, it's cute. A frail little grumpy guy and a big strong sweet guy. They're a sweet pair and I can already imagine the fluff fics. While this type of ship isn't really something I'm into, it's good!

[sobredunia]

You know out of all the things I expected to happen in Rain Code a transgender episode was not it

[clickbeetle]

GENOCIDE JACK REFERENCE. GENOCODE JACK REFERENCE.

[loveshotzz]

All I Really Want Is You

older!neighbor!widower! steve x fem!reader chap six/ten - a slow burn series of blurbs - updated every wednesday

I Don’t Know You, But I Want To

summary: Sometimes curiosity has consequences.

wc: 2.8k

warnings: 18+ series for future chapters, mentions of death, hints on how Steve’s wife died, bouts of self consciousnesses.

authors note: sorry guys, you knew this chapter had to happen. i promise i’ll make up for it! enjoy a few more easter eggs from @carolmunson ‘s orange colored sky in here. I’ve had so much fun talking about these two old men’s friendship with you!

🌇 <- chapter five -> chapter seven

The Masterlist / The Playlist / The Tune:

End of June

You didn’t realize when Steve asked you to water his plants, that he meant in just three short days after the almost kiss in his kitchen. The opposite schedules the two of you seem to always work made it so you hardly got a glimpse of him before he and Bandit disappeared to Starved Rock for what you learned was their annual camping trip.

The Good Morning Tough Girl texts started the next day after your number exchange, waking you up with a kaleidoscope of butterflies twisting and turning in your stomach and a smile so big it made your cheeks hurt. It helped you get over only getting to physically see him one time through your living room window before he left. Your phone had vibrated at your feet while you watered your now flourishing Ivy thanks to the new curtains you were proud to say were installed by yourself. You chanced a glance down at your lit up screen, his name flashing with a text that said: How’d I never realize how pretty my view is from the front yard?

The corners of your mouth twitched, flames licking underneath your cheeks when your eyes caught his out your window. The big dopey smile that took over his face made you giggle as he waved eagerly, dressed nice like he had been the morning you ran into him last week. You wiggled your fingers, biting your bottom lip at the way his dark navy button up looked tucked into the waist of his black slacks. The leather belt looked nicer than the last one, the silver of the buckle blinding in the setting sun. His hair was freshly done, free of any signs of those big hands of his. The stubble on his jaw was gone again, but you learned that was never for very long. 

Another buzz: Going to dinner with a client, wish it was fish tacos with you instead.

Steve feels like he won the lottery when he can see the way your face lights up from his spot in his front yard. Eddie’s voice rings loudly inside his head, sticking to every single one of his negative thoughts like glue telling him it’s okay and he finally starts to believe it, especially when he gets a text back from you.

Maybe next time 😉

It’s thunderstorming the day you go over, the key tucked away in a lockbox by his door. He gave you access by texting the code the night before with a promise to take you to dinner as a thank you when he got back. The nerves that dance inside you feel like they did the first time you came here when you stand in front of the stained glass of his front door even though he’s five hours away. 

It’s quiet, the lively energy from a few nights ago gone with the man. The cedar of his candle still lingers thick in the air and you can’t help but inhale deeply. It smells like him. You leave your shoes and umbrella on his front porch, closing the door gently like you were scared to wake someone up. The pattering of the rain on his windows fills the silence, your shoulders dropping in the serenity. Pulling your phone from your back pocket you look through your texts with the list of the rooms the plants were in. 

Only three — his office and living room on the first floor and his bedroom on the second.  

The coffee white oak floors creak under your socked feet as you take your first apprehensive steps past the entryway. He left the watering can on the kitchen island just like he said he would, your skin pebbles when you’re brought back to the last time you were in here. The sun fights to shine through the thick storm clouds outside, making the lighting that bleeds through his windows soften everything up. The water from the sink hits the metal of the can, mixing perfectly with the rain. 

You wish he was here.

The can is heavy in your hands when you stop at the doorway of the living room, the contents inside sloshing around and daring to spill onto his floor. You curse under your breath with a pause to take in the room you only got a glimpse of before. There’s an electric fireplace, tall black steel that takes up most of the wall next to the sliding glass door that leads to his small backyard. 

Two large beige area rugs cover most of the wood floors in here, a cream frayed trim lining them. Bandit’s bed sits big, fluffy and dark brown nestled by the fireplace, giving him a perfect view out the window. Strands of his lighter hairs leave behind evidence that this might be his favorite spot in the house. A woven basket filled with various chew toys that look freshly tossed in isn’t very far from it. The rain comes down harder but you can still see the spots of lime green littering the grass where the rambunctious German shepherd left his tennis balls. Spoiled.

The cognac color of his leather couch set is rich, and it shines even in the dim lighting like it was freshly lotioned. It looks like the kind of comfortable where the cushions mold against the weight of your body - soft, inviting, the one in the middle looking a little more worn in than the rest. This must be Steve’s favorite spot. 

Your eyes meet the 65” TV mounted to the wall in front of it and realize why. The coffee table matches the dark color of the floors. The candle that was the culprit for the smell of his house sitting in the middle next to three remotes lined perfectly next to each other.

There’s a long, taller companion table that sits at the other doorway that leads back out to the landing of his staircase. Framed pictures, bottles of various liquors of all shades and crystal cocktail glasses cover the top of it. 

What does he think of your place?

You try to push the intrusive thought down as you make your way to the lush Monstera plant that sits in a white pot on top of wooden legs next to the sliding glass door. Its leaves hang heavy, clearly taken care of. The deep emerald of it reminds you of what Steve’s eyes look like sometimes. The soil takes what you give it greedily, barely leaving enough for the few smaller plants that rest on shadow shelves along his gray walls. A few of them make you stand on your tiptoes to reach.

Curiosity wins on your way to refill the can, crossing the room to look at the framed pictures. You aren’t surprised when you see one of Eddie and Bandit as a puppy, it looks like the first day they brought him home. Eddie’s dimples show in a bright smile as he looks at the camera with Bandit’s big bubble gum pink tongue pressed sloppily against a clean shaven cheek.

The other is of Steve and a curly haired boy at a college graduation, they both look like they were caught in the middle of laughing at something. You can’t help your own smile when you look at it. Steve looks a little younger, a little less gray in his hair like it had only just started. He’s wearing wire rim glasses, and that crisp white dress shirt you like him in so much. He looks happy.

The last one is of Steve and Bandit. A selfie taken at sunrise, Bandits tongue sticks out and you swear he’s smiling just like his handsome owner that has him pulled against his side. A part of a tent peaks over his shoulder and you wonder if this is where they’re at right now.

You’re hit with the smell of his cologne when you open his office door, your thighs pressing together when you imagine him sitting in the big black leather chair behind an even bigger, matching colored desk. Glass cased baseball memorabilia takes space on one of his walls, along with plaques of achievements from his job. There’s framed pictures of him shaking hands of baseball players you couldn’t name, but you’re sure a normal person who liked sports could. There’s a tall bookshelf on the other side of the room. The spines all glossed, bright bold wording of sports memoir’s, marketing guides, and what looks like college course advertising books.

The floor of this room is carpeted with the same color as the area rugs in his living room. Your footsteps are a little more careful as you try not to spill any water on it as you make your way to the three hanging spider plants in the window that overlooks his front yard. 

Your nose catches a hint of the cigars you know he smokes as you get closer to his desk. He must keep them in here. A silver closed MacBook sits on top of it, another baseball — only this one is signed and kept safe in a glass case. There's a Polaroid of Bandit with a cubs hat on his head with a laughing Peach barely visible behind him. The obvious closeness of the three of them makes you realize how much he let you into his world the other night. 

A world where he wanted to kiss you.

You curse under your breath when you almost spill water on the carpet, too lost in realization of what this could be.

When you reach your final destination on the second floor, you stop at his closed door. Your hand hovers over the knob, heart hammering so hard in your chest like he was waiting for you on the other side. Taking a deep breath through your nose, you exhale through your lips - willing your nerves to give you mercy. There’s a soft click when you turn the knob and the quietest noise from the hinges when you push it open.

The crisp white of his fluffy duvet that covers his king size bed, mutes the gray of his walls. The olive green throw at the end of it that matches the area rug under the bed, the warmth of the color relaxes your senses. Your breathing evens out, your heart rate slows down. 

There’s another dog bed at the foot of his that matches the one downstairs and you wonder how often Bandit really sleeps in this one at night. The lack of hair on it compared to the other one tells you not very often. Your cheeks tingle fiercely when you see the mirror you got a glimpse of his bare chest through, your eyes quickly finding the bathroom he had come out of. 

“Jesus Christ,” you grumble to yourself, trying to push back the memory while standing alone in his bedroom. 

There’s another Monstera by his window that you can see your bedroom out of. The last one on the list. You have to pass by another large dresser on your way, even more pictures sit on top of it, taking up the space that was left next to a cherry wood watch box. Another cedar candle sits behind the framed pictures, the scent lingering in the air despite not being lit.

The plants take what’s left in the watering can, and you peek out the window just to see what he sees. The navy curtains you’d hung up are half open giving you a perfect glimpse into your room, the pile of dirty laundry you plan to do after this perfectly visible. You gulp audibly.

The can swings loosely in your hand when you walk to the dresser, a smirk already forming on your lips at the thought of what these ones will tell you about him. Your eyes land on one of him in between Eddie and Peach on what seems to be their wedding day, both of them placing sloppy kisses on either cheek. The big dopey grin face doesn’t hide the tear stains. The White Chapel sign behind them tells you it’s Vegas, and the way Steve is dressed as a much sexier Elvis only confirms your suspicions. 

Next to that one is a picture of Steve, only he looks really young- fresh out of high school young. Biting your lip into a smile at the volume of his hair, he’s leaning against a maroon BMW with pants so tight you're sure they made all the girls flustered. You shake your head with a roll of your eyes before taking in the brown curly haired girl sticking her head out of the back seat window. Another girl with honey waves pushing her head out in the small space next to her, you swear you can hear the giggles that are so evident on their faces.

Thunder cracks loudly outside, bringing you back with a jump. You’re dreading the short walk home. You glance out the window wearily before bringing your attention back to the little bit of Steve scattered over the top of his dresser. Then you see it. You see her.

The frame that holds the picture is silver, the words ‘always and forever’ etched across the bottom. It’s taken somewhere tropical and Steve looks like he’s your age in it, his jaw somehow sharper, his hair blonder. His smile is so big it shows all of his teeth, a bright yellow short sleeve button up that makes his skin look golden. The top two buttons undone revealing the chest hair you’d gotten a few glimpses of. He’s glowing. 

She’s just as beautiful, big bright green eyes and dark chestnut hair that falls in effortless curls down to her chest. They look natural, like she didn’t have to do it herself. She’s tucked into his side in what looks like seats in the back of a boat, the coral dress that flows over the curves of her body makes your stomach turn. The big rock on her hand rested purposefully on his chest tells you exactly what this picture is.  

Jealousy twists green in a tight knot inside of you, guilt you weren’t expecting makes you feel nauseous when you see what’s hanging off the corner of the frame. A dark teal rubber bracelet with the words Team ALS Chicago 2022 in white font.

Lightning flashes white hot, making something gleam and catch in the corner of your eye from his watch box. Taking a closer look, the tightening of your chest at what you find makes the air leave your lungs all at once when you see their wedding rings tucked in between the soft white cushions inside the box. 

The reality of the situation hits you like a ton of bricks. Steve had a whole life before he met you. A life with someone beautiful, someone he didn’t fall out of love with, someone who didn’t break his heart, someone who, if things were different he’d still be with.

If you moved next door in that reality, you’d just be someone he’d maybe wave to from time to time, not paying any mind to the thirty year old girl already suffering through a midlife crisis next door. The girl who moved to the city with no friends and no plan. The college drop out. The opposite of the well put together woman that belonged hanging off his chest like that, with a ring on her finger that could pay off your credit card debt and then some.

How can you compete with a ghost? The nagging feeling that you’ll always be second best already stings and he hasn’t even picked you yet.

You try to blink away the tears that threaten to spill out, feeling stupid for being this upset over what started off as a silly crush, it really shouldn’t hurt this much. The cedar that comforted you feels like it's suffocating now. Like he’s here. The thought of bringing the watering can down doesn’t even cross your mind when you leave it on the dresser to make your escape.

The breath that comes out through trembling lips is shaky, still, you're proud of the fact that you haven’t cried yet. 

Tough girl. 

When you open the front door, it's windier than when you first got here, the sun starting its disappearing act for the moon. It makes the summer storm match the one brewing inside of you. You shove your feet into your shoes before pulling the door shut behind you. You lock the key back into the box, before grabbing your umbrella. Your vision goes blurry but you don’t give into it, telling yourself it’s stupid to be so upset. The buzz of your phone in your back pocket is what stops you from taking the first step off his porch. 

Steve

Found a spot with some service on our hike, just wanted to check in. Hope you got into the house okay. Bandit says he misses you.

The dam that you’d worked so hard to build breaks, tears falling down your face like the rain falling from the sky. You sniffle, wiping your cheeks with the back of your hand before you reply to him for what you tell yourself is the last time. It’ll hurt less like this, it’s better for both of you this way. At least that’s what you try to tell yourself before you hit send.

Plants are watered 👍

beta’d by: @superblysubpar

dividers by @newlips

chapter seven

[btsficsandsuch]

Comfort Person

You overhear Yoongi talking about how clingy you are but he doesn’t know the reason why. When you distance yourself he starts to worry.

You stood outside Yoongi’s studio door preparing to let yourself in with the code he had given you a few months ago. You had a bag full of food for the two of you, something you did often. The two of you had been friends for several years but just recently started dating. Just as you were about to knock you heard voices going back and forth. You recognized Yoongi’s voice and you also heard Namjoon and Hoseok. You figured they were discussing work and you didn’t want to interrupt so you went to go sit in the lounge down the hall and give them some privacy. You were about to walk away when you heard your name. Of course curiosity got the best of you and you decided to listen in on the conversation.

“Man I am starving. You’re so lucky that Y/N brings you food all the time.”, Namjoon spoke. “Yeah seriously and she’s always checking in on you. I hope one day I have someone that cares about me like that.”, Hobi said. You smiled at their kind words. Yoongi spoke, “It’s not all it’s cracked up to be.” His words stung a little. You thought he appreciated it. “Uh oh trouble in paradise already?”, Namjoon asked. You could hear Yoongi sigh, “Not really. I just didn’t expect Y/N to be this clingy and needy once we became official. I mean I love being around her but she spends every night in my studio with me and she doesn’t even knock. She just lets herself in. I gave her the code for emergencies but I kind of regret it now. She comes to the dorm and is practically on top of me the whole time and then she just invites herself to spend the night. She steals all of my clothes. She constantly texts me all day. I just need some space but I don’t want to hurt her feelings.”

Wow. All of this just hit you like a truck. You knew you were a little clingy with him and it did get worse once you started dating because you felt more comfortable but you didn’t think he hated it that much. Yoongi was your comfort person. Whenever your anxiety got bad or you just had a bad day you felt so much better being around him. You didn’t want him to feel so negatively towards you so you decided that you would stop the clinginess and give him some space. You left the bag of food sitting outside his door and went home.

Yoongi checked his phone and saw the time said 1:17am. Then he noticed there were no new texts or calls from you. It was odd. He knew you’d be asleep already so why hadn’t you texted him. He just assumed you must’ve fallen asleep and left it at that. He couldn’t help but feel a tiny bit of hurt though as you’d never fallen asleep before saying goodnight before.

Over the next week you did your best to give Yoongi his space. You only texted him if he texted you first. You were currently on your way to his studio for the first time this week. He had texted you asking if you’d bring him his hoodie that he had left at your place. Standing in-front of his door you were about to let yourself in when you remembered what he said so you knocked instead. When he finally opened his door he was surprised to see you. “Y/N why did you knock? Did you forget the code?”, he said with a little laugh. You shook your head, “No I just didn’t want to interrupt if you were busy.” You handed him his hoodie and turned to walk away but he stopped you, “Aren’t you going to stay? I feel like I haven’t seen you all week.” “No I have some errands to run before the rain comes.”, you lied. Really you wanted nothing more than to wrap yourself around him and never let go but you were doing this for him. He stood watching you walk away. He knew something was off.

The following day you got a text from Jungkook inviting you to a movie night at the dorm. You thought about passing but ultimately decided that it might be good for you to get out of your apartment and be around your friends.

You knocked on the door of the dorm and Jin invited you in, “Yoongi is in his room.” You smiled knowing he assumed you’d want to go right to him but you were still giving him space. Instead you sat at the dining room table next to Jimin and waited for dinner to be ready. You didn’t realize how cold it was so you didn’t bring a jacket and you were freezing. Usually you’d go grab one of Yoongi’s hoodies but remembering what he said you asked Jin if you could have one of his instead. He happily handed you the fluffy pink hoodie and you quickly put it on.

Jin had let Yoongi know that the food was ready and to come eat. He was shocked when he walk into the room and saw you already sitting there smiling and having a conversation with Jimin. “When did you get here?”, he asked you before sitting down. “Umm maybe like 30 minutes ago.”, you said not wanting to make eye contact. Yoongi looked visibly hurt, “Why didn’t you come say hi and let me know you were here? And why are you wearing Jin’s hoodie? I have a closet full of them that you could’ve gone through.” You just shrugged, “I didn’t want to bother you.”

Yoongi ate his meal in silence. He wasn’t sure why you were all of a sudden being so distant. He thought back to all of the interactions you two had over the last month. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Once dinner was over and the kitchen cleaned up everyone made their way to the living room to watch a movie.

Yoongi took his usual spot on the couch leaving a space next to him. He had your favorite fluffy blanket in his lap and he was ready for some much needed cuddling. To his dismay instead of walking right over to him like you would usually do you stood at the door looking around the room like you were deciding where to sit. You remembered the comment he made about you always being on top of him at the dorms so you were looking for somewhere else to sit. “Noona aren’t you going to sit next to Hyung? There’s a seat open.”, Jungkook said smiling at you. Not wanting to make things even more awkward you nodded a thank you and took the seat next to Yoongi making sure to leave as much space as you could between the two of you. He offered you the blanket but you declined telling him you were a little warm. Yoongi new you were lying but chose to let it go.

After the movie you said your goodbyes and watched the boys run off to their rooms. You went to the kitchen to make sure all of the food was properly put away. Once that was done you made your way to the front door and started putting your shoes on. Yoongi appeared with a frown, “Y/N it’s really late and quite cold outside. Why dont you just spend the night here?” You wanted so badly to get in his bed and feel his warmth and comfort. You needed it now more than ever but you could still hear his words in your head. You shook your head, “No it’s okay. I’ve got some things to do early in the morning.”

Yoongi was starting to get worried. This wasn’t like you at all. “Y/N what’s going on? Are you cheating on me? Or do you just not love me any more? Whatever it is you can tell me.”, he said slightly raising his voice. Hearing him get loud sent you into complete panic mode. You didn’t know what he wanted from you at this point. You feel like no matter what you did you were wrong and next thing you knew you were sobbing into his chest.

He pulled you into his room to get some privacy. Sitting you on the bed he started wiping away the tears, “Y/N please talk to me. I can’t fix it if I don’t know what’s wrong.” You waited a few minutes to calm yourself down. “The other day I was going to bring you food but I heard you telling Namjoon and Hobi about how clingy and needy I am and you wanted space so I decided to give you that space.”, you said between sobs. “Oh Y/N I’m so sorry. I was having such a bad couple days and I felt so awful that I was being forced to ignore you. I was just saying dumb stuff. I didn’t mean any of it.”, he said while rubbing circles on your back.

You wiped some of the tears way, “No I’m sorry. I was clingy and needy. You’re my comfort person. I feel better when I’m with you. I don’t feel as anxious or sad so I tried to be around you as much as I could to make myself feel better. I was being selfish because I wasn’t thinking about what you wanted or how you felt. I’m glad I heard you. I just wish you would’ve talked to me instead.”

Yoongi lifted your chin so you could look at him, “No don’t be sorry Y/N. I’ll be your comfort person. I’ll be whatever you need. You can sit on my lap 24/7 if it makes you feel better. Honestly, after this last week I realized just how much I need you too.” You rested your head on his shoulder while he wrapped you in a hug and you instantly felt better. “Are you going to spend the night? I think we could both use a good night of cuddling.” You smiled and nodded your head. You watched Yoongi walk over to his closet and grab a tshirt and a hoodie. He walked back over and handed them to you, “Here, please put these on and throw Jin’s hoodie out in the hallway. I don’t even want it in here.” You giggled while taking the clothes and doing as he said (Minus the hoodie part since Jin was nice enough to lend it to you. You folded it and placed it neatly in front of his door instead but Yoongi didn’t have to know that).

You crawled in bed where Yoongi was waiting with open arms. You rested your head on his chest while he held you close. “I love you Y/N.”You felt love, you felt happiness, you felt warmth, you felt comfort. “I love you too.”

[amaibambina]

My Rain Code OC: Emiko Morningdew 🧡

Non-Roleplay Emiko: A shy, bashful girl who is socially anxious around others, but she seems to have a soft-spot and liking towards Yuma.

♥︎ This description is for the role-play version of Emiko ♥︎

A Master Detective with a Forte that can intercept and comprehend radio waves. She was not summoned to Kanai Ward.

DOB: Feburary 13

Gender: Female (She/Her)

Height: 5"7 (170 cm)

Forte: Electrowave

Likes: Safety

Dislikes: Feeling unprepared

Personality:

An anxious, kind-hearted girl who thinks ten steps ahead and prepares herself for any negative outcome, no matter how unrealistic the scenario is.

Her paranoid mentality can come off as ditzy and hard to work with, but she means well and is only being overprotective.

Despite Emiko's anxiety giving her trust issues and doubt, she still loves her friends dearly and will always be there for them.

Forensic Forte:

Emiko's forte is Electrowave. She can interrupt or comprehend any radio wave with the use of her watch. It's most used in cases to listen to top secret messages, but can do other things like hear music or stop TV broadcasts.

Like all fortes, there is a drawback. Her forte is connect to her heartbeat. If she's feeling anxious then the radio wave audio is static-y and can only become clearer when she calms down.

Notes :3

• Emiko is inspired by chapter 1's loading screen tip telling us about an "electrowave detective" not summoned to Kanai Ward.

• Her birthday, February 13 is World Radio Day

• Likes the nickname "Miko"

• Her initials are "EM" as a reference to how her forte is connect to electromagnetism.

• She and the other unsummoned detectives are a team.

• Fubuki was my main inspiration for her design

[olliepurples]

rain code chapter 4 end spoilers (tw negative)

currently at the bit where yomi is taken away due to makoto bringing a six page binder of evidence of his various crimes, then he is given the miranda warning and arrested calmly. do the people who write this game know how a police state works. i assure you it is not dependent on one really mean guy who can easily be removed. the peacekeepers tortured and executed people without trial, and all of a sudden they're just chill guys who respect the rights of those they arrest. genuinely insane. this game ping-pongs between really good character drama (vivia), ok mysteries, standardly bad waifu bait, and atrocious understanding of any of the social concepts they discuss.

[lostloveletters]

Jesus or Gasoline (John Brady x OC)

Summary: Woody isn't sure what she believes in, except for the way John Brady makes her feel.

Note: Here it is, the result of my making a ‘guy who says grace before giving head’ joke about Brady. I wanna give a million thanks to all the Woody/Brady babes out there because y'all's support and enthusiasm for them means the world to me! As usual I listened to a lot of Bruce Springsteen while writing this. Do not interact if you’re under 18, terf or radfem, or post thinspo/ED content.

Word count: 3.2k

Warnings: Inevitable historical inaccuracies. This goes into Woody’s not so great childhood/young adulthood and her generally negative internalized thoughts surrounding religion. Sexually explicit content involving oral sex (f. receiving) and coming in pants.

The field behind the hangar was a questionable date spot at best, but Woody figured it was better than nothing. Secluded enough with some lighting as to not be stumbling around in the dark, but without fear of being easily identified if they got caught before they could make a break for it if needed. 

Word of the late night rendezvous had come from Holly, barely able to contain her excitement at being the messenger. “Your beau wanted me to tell you to meet him tonight,” she whispered, giggling as she added, “said you’d know where.”

Woody had given Holly all of the details the night John Brady kissed her, her best friend in ecstatic disbelief that so much had happened while she and Bucky were listening to a baseball game across the way. Holly took girl code as a sacred oath, not mentioning Woody and Brady’s relationship to a soul in the week or so that had passed. John wasn’t exactly pleased when Woody let him know that she told Holly, but he supposed if Woody trusted Holly that much, he could, too.

“There you are, sweetheart,” John said, with a genuine fondness that she almost couldn’t believe was directed toward her. “Have you been waiting long?”

She shook her head, greeting him with a kiss. “I’ve been looking forward to seeing you all day.”

“I brought you something,” he said, pulling a Hershey bar from his pocket. 

“Don’t waste that on me, are you kidding?”

“Holly told me you give the village kids whatever candy you get, and I know ground crew doesn’t get as much in your rations as we do.” 

Good ol’ Holly. “They appreciate it more than me.”

He looked at her pointedly, though eyes glistened in amusement as he half-scolded, “Don’t reject a gift, sweetheart. It’s bad manners.”

Woody fought back a smile, felt her cheeks heating up . “Thank you, Johnny. You’re real sweet.” Gave him a kiss on the cheek and squeezed his forearm. “Can we at least split it?”

“I won’t say no to that.” 

The grass was damp from the late afternoon rain. She was glad she thought to grab an old blanket, worn out and smelled faintly of fuel, but it’d do. 

He split the bar in two, handing the bigger half to her. She took a bite, surprised to find herself feeling a wistful melancholy for the states at the taste of it. Wasn’t sure she ever felt homesick before, but there was a first time for everything. Like John laying out on the blanket, resting his head in her lap.

“Comfortable?” she asked with a laugh.

“Great view from here.”

“Glad to hear it.”

“You know, I’ve been dying to ask you this ever since I met you,” he began, giving her pause at the seemingly endless possible questions he could hit her with. “Do you really like being called ‘Woody’?”

She nodded, stroking his hair, taking in how relaxed he looked. “Yeah, I really do. It’s been nice to leave ‘Kate’ behind and start fresh.”

“So your first name is just Kate?”

“Shows you how much thought my parents put into it.”

“See, I wanna know more about you.”

“What do you mean?”

“We talk a good deal, but I don’t know much about your life before all of this.”

“I don’t have anything nostalgic or good to tell you, especially not about me. I’m ashamed of who I was before. I’m trying to be better, John. I really am. I don’t—I don’t hang around people who have nothing going for them.”

People like how she used to be. The backstreets burst at the seams with them. Children of neglect, of the Depression, of something wild otherwise running through their veins. They made their homes where they could. Guys who rode around on streaks of lightning, spewing pure gasoline from snarled lips on each of those hilly avenues until they were wrangled in the back of cherry-topped police cars. Girls who should’ve known better drank empty promises out of broken glasses, handed to them by the constantly circling shark-men. Kate learned quickly not to get attached to anyone. They looked out for each other, but they weren’t friends. There was a difference.

“I got an older brother named Tom. Last I heard he was in jail for holding up a liquor store,” she said. “I haven’t seen him since I was eleven, though. That’s when I really started looking after myself.”

“Eleven is pretty young to be on your own,” he said, taking her hand from his hair and holding it in his own, intertwining their fingers.

“What were you doing when you were eleven?”

He shrugged. “Rode bikes around with my friends. Started learning saxophone. I was an altar boy, too.”

“So your family went to mass a lot when you were growing up?”

“Every Sunday that we could. I remember my mom waking us up to go even when we had to walk through a foot of snow to get there because the roads hadn't been cleared yet,” he said, his voice growing softer as he spoke. “Doesn’t seem all that bad, now. Maybe it—it helped some.”

Woody had seen John make the sign of the cross dozens of times. Father, Son, and Holy Ghost. Remembered the first time she watched him among the other Catholic guys in the 100th, crowded around the chaplain for his makeshift blessing on the tarmac before their missions. Devotion ran exceptionally high then, men suddenly armed with a rainbow of beaded rosaries and holy cards adorned with saints whose weary eyes gazed upward, where those men were soon to be. Their heads bowed in silent contemplation as the priest concluded in Latin, John’s mouth moving along with sed libera nos a malo. But deliver us from evil.

A handsome face like his deserved half a dozen kids with names like Mary and Francis who filed neatly into a pew with their shiny patent shoes and a big family meal to look forward to after mass. Kids who gave the likes of her odd looks when she shuffled into church for whatever lunch the nuns were dishing out that afternoon. Always dressed in her Sunday worst—ill-fitting blouses and holey shoes until she ditched their charity and decided she was better off raising hell in denim jeans. God loved everyone, and his love was unconditional, but no one wanted to say he loved some people more than others, and Kate was pretty low on his list. 

After all, Kate Woodward was born without a middle name on a Wednesday morning that even god himself forgot about. Didn’t know what the weather had been like the first time she breathed in the air of her home city, but she was sure it felt like a kick in the chest. Probably why babies cried when they made their grand escape from the womb. 

Hardly raised in the first place, Kate had little faith in god or man, just in the machines she could bend to her will until they gave her freedom to go wherever she pleased. But her freedom had gnashing teeth and a forked tongue that were never satisfied, no matter how many vices she fed it, and she was nothing short of gluttonous in this endeavor. 

Tried and true, the one she had the hardest time shaking—sticky fingers. If Kate saw something she liked, she took it. From drug store shelves to purses to wallets, nothing was off limits. As time went on, her spoils only got bigger and better, linking up with people who taught her how to steal cars like riding a bike. She had yet to find a replacement for that particular thrill, but her self-control had markedly improved in a little over two years.

Then there were men with hacksaw smiles that threatened to cut her open if she got as close as they wanted her to. Thunderous voices that cracked with rage when she’d shove the smoldering cherry tip of her cigarette into a hand that got too close for comfort. None of them were any good, not like the man with his head in her lap, who brought her chocolate rations and listened intently to her, even as her voice shook with trepidation at bearing so much of her heart.

Woody hummed, her fingers trembling as she traced the features on his face—his expressive brows, the nose that gave him a profile she could hardly tear her eyes from, lips she dreamed about since the night he first kissed her and every time since. Besides the power of a well-maintained engine, she believed in the way she felt about John.

“I was lonely and angry,” she murmured after relaying her patchwork of regrets and fears to him. “I made a lot of mistakes because of that. It’s not an excuse. But I wanna be honest with you so you can still change your mind about me if you want to. I understand if you do.”

“There’s nothing to change my mind about, sweetheart. I want to be with you,” he said, conviction strong in his voice as he sat up.

“I’m not a virgin,” she stressed.

He shook his head. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I would’ve been surprised if you were.”

“Well, I didn’t love any of them—four guys in total, mind you—and it’s not like I got anything out of it, either.” She sighed. “I don’t know if that makes it better or worse.”

Crushes were for girls who lived in nice houses and wrote hearts above their i’s. Desire ran hot, expressed in glances made with hooded lids beneath buzzing neon lights that left a thousand things unsaid. But after that handful of physically underwhelming experiences which ended up being far more trouble than they were worth, she came to the conclusion that she was better suited to get her own rocks off.

“Got what out of it?” he asked.

She chewed on her lip. The only sin out there was getting caught, and Kate Woodward never got caught. Woody chose to confess. “I had to get to the good part myself.”

“That’s unacceptable.” 

Her heart sank. “I haven’t done it in—“

“Those selfish bastards never made you come?” 

“Not one.”

“In that case, I’d be glad to be your first.”

“I want you to be,” she said, leaning back on her hands in the dewey grass, spreading her coverall-clad legs apart. “I wanna do everything with you.”

He placed his hand on her thigh, his fingers playing with the inner hem of her coveralls. “Tell me how you want it, sweetheart.”

“I want your mouth.” Truthfully, she’d never had a guy go down on her before. Heard about it from other girls, wild ones out in the desert. A few others as she got to know the first group of WAAC girls she bunked with after enlisting. Even from Holly, as apparently Stan had been generous and enthusiastic about that aspect of their sex life. Stan, Stan, what a man, the girls would tease about Holly’s fiance before he was dearly departed. 

The corners of John’s lips twitched up as he brought his fingers further along the hem, inching closer to her covered sex. “Never had a girl ask me to do that before.”

“You really don’t mind?”

“Why would I?”

She hesitated, averting her eyes from him. “A lot of guys think it’s gross.”

“I think I should decide for myself, don’t you?” He cupped her chin, caressing her jaw with his thumb. “Look at me, sweetheart. What do you want me to do?”

Upon returning her gaze to his, she found no judgment behind his eyes, but a passionate sincerity.

“I want you to go down on me,” she said.

She studied him as he watched her. His pretty lips parted slightly, drinking her in as more of her body was exposed. It wasn’t a strip tease, nothing sexy about the way she pulled her arms out from the sleeves and yanked her coveralls down to her knees, finally kicking them to her ankles and off entirely. Sat before him in her white t-shirt, plain underwear, and boots, almost boyish if not for her breasts, low on her chest, nipples poking through the fabric. 

“Are you wearing a bra?” He sounded breathless, almost as if he couldn’t believe he was even asking.

“No,” she said, her lips curving into a smile, letting him in on another secret. “I always take it off at the end of the day. Don’t tell anyone.” 

As if the other girls didn’t know, with some degree of judgment along with their understanding that the damn thing got uncomfortable, could chafe with all the work they were doing, the sweat and friction. It wasn’t like anyone could really tell beneath the other layers, anyway. But anyone meant anyone of the male persuasion, and with that, John dutifully shook his head.

His lips were on hers in an instant, a hand on her waist, the other shoved up her shirt, squeezing her breasts. She gasped at the way his rough palm felt against her nipple, and he took the opportunity to deepen the kiss, his tongue in her mouth. Her moans were lost to the world, claimed by him and him alone. He straddled her lap, keeping her in place beneath him. 

John moved his hand from her waist to between her legs, rubbing her already wet pussy through her underwear. Her lips were undoubtedly swollen from the ferocity with which he kissed her. A delicious shiver ran down her spine at the thought of how it’d feel against her cunt. 

He hooked his fingers in the waistband of her panties, and she lifted her hips, allowing him to pull them off of her. Bringing up her knees, she felt a burst of adrenaline rush through her at being so exposed to him.

“You need to tell me how I’m doing, alright? I wanna make sure you feel good,” he said.

“Yeah, yeah, okay,” she mumbled, almost dizzy with desire as he lowered his face between her legs.

His hot breath on her cunt, lips brushing against her folds. She strained to hear… whispering?

“Johnny?” she asked after a few moments of aching anticipation. “Baby, if you don’t wanna— Jesus Christ,” she choked out. Jesus, Mary, Joseph, and all the rest of them. 

His tongue lapped at her clit, eyes looking up at her for approval. With a shaky nod, she bid him to continue, biting her lip as to stifle the whine that threatened to escape her mouth. A noble attempt, but fruitless when he licked up her pussy with the flat of his tongue, pulling a moan from deep in her chest. Her heart was beating between her legs. 

Woody could make herself feel pretty damn good on her own. She lifted a dirty magazine from a guy in Reno once. Had pictures and everything, though she wasn’t sure how real it all was. She’d look at the pictures, tongue between her lips and hand between her thighs as she imagined herself in those women’s places, feeling the ecstasy written all over their expressive faces with their typically faceless partners. From there, she’d get creative, allowing her mind to conjure up a man who, behind her closed eyes, could bring her to orgasm. Even in her wildest fantasies, she never thought she’d find one who’d actually want to bury his face in her pussy. 

Fuck, if she couldn’t feel John’s fingers digging into her thighs, she would’ve almost thought she was dreaming. She grabbed his hair, pressing his face harder against her cunt. He was giving so much, and she’d take all of it, greedy with the pleasure he offered her.  

He slid two fingers inside her pussy, slowly enough to see how she’d take it before pumping them in and out at a quicker pace. Used his other hand to hold her down when her hips jerked up in his face, like her muscles had a mind of their own, hellbent on reaching an orgasm. Hell, so was she.

“Just like that— fuck,” she rasped, her nails scraping against his scalp.

She nearly wanted to ask if he’d been lying, if he had gone down on a girl before. He at least had enough experience to know where her fucking clit was, but his mouth. Jesus, how could he expect her to go to the officer’s club and watch him play saxophone after this? As if she wouldn’t be sitting there, skin feverish, thighs pressed together, thinking about his mouth and his fingers in that moment. The way his teeth grazed against her clit, making her pussy clench around his fingers. The way it almost felt like he was making out with her cunt. Their eyes would meet, and he’d know, maybe have a little smirk on his face up there, too. An obscene secret privately shared amidst dozens of other people who’d be none the wiser. 

“Don’t stop,” She was so close it almost hurt, wound up tight and pulsing in her gut, waiting to be released. “Please don’t stop.” Hot tears rolled freely down her cheeks. Her chest felt like it was on the verge of bursting open. Between a fistful of grass and a hand buried in his hair, she cried out his name like a vulgar prayer in the night as her orgasm rocked through her.

A universe of stars burst across her abdomen, white-hot supernova tearing through her muscles, blinding her from anything but the pleasure that pulsed from her pussy. She finally came down from it, covered in sweat, chest heaving, a wild-eyed woman as John pushed himself back up on unsteady arms.

She grabbed his shirt, pulling him closer so he was straddling her lap. Took in his mussed up hair and the way his lips glistened with the traces of her still on them. She kissed him, a muffled moan in her throat at the taste of herself on this tongue. 

She wanted him. More of him. Everything he had to give. Wasn’t sure it’d be enough to sate her need, but damn if she couldn’t try.

“Johnny, can’t we just do it?” she pleaded, her voice a girlish whine that sounded otherwise foreign coming from her as she desperately pawed at him.

“Next time,” he whispered. “Next time, sweetheart, I promise.” Grazed his teeth against her hummingbird pulse. “I didn’t bring a condom.” 

“But what about you?” she pressed, reaching for his crotch. “You must be—“

He shook his head, cheeks flushed as he licked his lips. “I got carried away, sweetheart. I, uh—I’m good.” 

She slipped her hand down his pants, feeling the sticky evidence of his orgasm for herself. Her fingertips brushed the sensitive head of his spent cock, sending a shiver down his spine. Was he good, though? He groaned. No wonder Douglass kept so many goddamn rubbers in his footlocker.

“Next time,” he repeated, voice strained and husky in a horrific display of self-control. He nearly regretted it when she pulled her hand away, feeling something sinful stir in his gut as she inspected her hand, finally bringing it to her mouth and licking the residue off her knuckles with a feline-esque curl of her tongue.

“Just say the word, Johnny. Whenever you want me to return the favor, I’ll drop everything for you.”

He swallowed roughly. She meant it.

[himiko-yumehellno]

Kodaka very obviously wants to make Danganronpa 4, but as many people have pointed out already, this would conflict with the ending of V3. I thought I would make things easier on our resident murder mystery writer who appears to really like making mascots that remind me of Whisper from Yo-Kai Watch, and come up with some solutions to this problem! Organized in approximate order of increasing silliness and grasping at straws, with some additional director's notes from ✨me✨!!

So, how can Kodaka make a new Danganronpa game that works with the ending of Danganronpa V3?:

Danganronpa isn't actually a killing game franchise loved around the world; Tsumugi either lied or was lied to herself (probably with the use of a Flashback Light to make her believe she was a willing ringleader). Allows for some interesting angst if it's the second option.

Despair made a sudden comeback and took over a good portion of the world. Tsumugi fudged some details, but it's true that a lot of the world now enjoys killing games, because normal life is just boring to them (a life without despair and death?! Ugh! Who'd want that, am I right?). We find out in a later installment that the survivors joined with other forces fighting against despair. Danganronpa 4 explores a separate killing game also put on in the name of this new global wave of despair.

Danganronpa 4 turns out to be a prequel (possibly featuring a killing game that the in-game franchise was inspired by, possibly just being one of the numerous previous installments Tsumugi threw out there in her exposition monologue, possibly some secret third option), and ends up with some ridiculous name so fans don't get confused on the sequence of events. Personally, I hope the name is Danganronpa Negative Four.

As so many postgame fics have taken to declaring, the entire game was a simulation. Except to make this work, it probably wouldn't be a simulation designed by Team Danganronpa – no, no, no! Perhaps this killing game was put on by Remnants of Despair or – *exaggerated gasp* – the Future Foundation themselves, hm?

Danganronpa V3 was a really fucked up social experiment and none of the "reality TV" backstory was real. No one knows how it got past the ethics committee, so don't ask.

It was all an alternate dimension/timeline. ... Look, if all it takes to brainwash someone into mass murder is forcing them to come to anime night, they can throw in a little time or dimension travel!

To piggyback on that last idea, the "reality TV" backstory was true; Danganronpa V3 and all the previous installments in this series were fiction... in the Rain Code universe. Or some other video game setting made by Kodaka. Nothing of the sort happened in the actual Danganronpa continuity, however.

Danganronpa V3 was Junko Enoshima's idea of heaven. Of course, it wouldn't have been complete without the despair of her ideal world being destroyed, hence the survivor trio shutting down her killing game show. Danganronpa 4, therefore, takes place in the living world, continuing off vaguely where the Danganronpa 3 anime left off. Notably, all questions about how Junko's heaven works and why she even got to go to heaven in the first place are not solved until a separate anime series, where we find out it was originally supposed to be her hell until she made the demon in charge of looking after her quit and give her full range of the place. It's never answered whether the participants of the killing game were other dead souls or just beings she created.

The entire thing was just the Monokuma Children playing with dolls. ... Or, knowing them, dead bodies.

Before V3 came out my brother had this whole theory that all of the characters were in a pseudo time loop where every time a killing game concluded, they'd just roll out a set of clones of everyone and start all over again, presumably killing off the survivors of the last game. I have no idea how this would solve Kodaka's issue but I want to see if they could find a way to make it work.

I'm excited to see what becomes of Kodaka's newest works, but apparently by his own admission he's interested in returning to Danganronpa at some point, so I thought I'd do the hard part for him. Feel free to take any of these ideas and run with them, Kodaka!

(feel free to add your own suggestions on how to make the ending of V3 work with a new Danganronpa game!)

[seth-burroughs]

While I could not care less about Yakou's Dead Wife Angst, it could have been worse. We could have had a dead wife montage of her running through the beach making faint echoing giggles set to sad piano music in his dlc