#red peaks remodel

[shimmer-like-agirl]

Red Peaks needed a firepit

[longhardtransitionreturns]

An Accidentally Viral Birth

Author's Note: This is 18+ kink content. This is fetish fiction about a very difficult hospital birth that results in injury to the birthing person.

Violet had made over half a million in sponsorship deals during the nine months of her pregnancy, hawking prenatal gummies and morning sickness remedies then baby clothes and hot nursery items to her followers right up until the first contractions started. She’d done it in her trademark raven braid and full face of designer makeup, modeling maternity outfits in between bump checks in increasingly tight Lululemon leggings. 

She spent so much time, in fact, on her brand deals and remodeling the nursery – sponsored by Sherwin Williams –  and pretaping content to fill the (surely short) recovery time after birth, that she hadn’t thought much of the actual birth at all. Sure, she’d made a video about her intent to birth naturally and to breastfeed but her mind had mostly been on the after, when she had to quickly get back in shape to maintain her follower counts while also taking care of a newborn. 

Which is probably why, after only dilating 6 inches in 32 natural, epidural free hours, she was on the brink of losing her mind. Exhausted, in what felt like endless agony, she also felt like she’d tried every position to lessen the pain and the only conclusion she came to was that, no what position she was in, the pain was clearly going to last forever. 

Her husband and fellow influencer, Jonathan Charles, spent the hours while his partner labored going live on TikTok, answering followers questions, while Violet whimpered pitifully in the background. But, almost to her surprise, he spent plenty of time with his phone put away in his chest pocket, he sat by her side and experienced labor with her. He even got the nurse to show him how to check how far dilated she was.

In the middle of the 34th hour, Violet’s contractions starting ramping up to a level of pain she previously hadn’t know possible. Her back was lanced through with a hot spike of agony every time a contraction peaked and they were lasting longer now, two minutes at one count. She got about 30 seconds of relief before another one rolled right on top of it and she was screaming again. 

“Oh, God, it hurts, it hurts, God, help me please,” she moaned, curling her body on its side the best she could around her huge bump and her painfully swollen breasts. She’d kept a sports bra on until now, under her hospital gown. Up until hour 25 she’d been able to film short updates for her followers about the progress of her labor and wanted to keep it somewhat dignified.

Now, though, in the throes of transition, she didn’t give a shit what she looked like. Her makeup was smeared across her red, sweaty face, her hair in disarray. And suddenly, at the end of another blindingly long and painful contraction, she needed her bra off. She couldn’t take the feel of it for another second. 

“Jonathan, get this bra off me now,” she bellowed, and he had to put his phone in his shirt pocket to come and carefully untie her hospital gown, slip it down her shoulders, and unclasp the fastener. Her breasts, a surgically inclined DD, spilled over on to her massive orb of a stomach, her huge areolas dark and rippling with the weight of the milk inside. 

He couldn’t resist a quick feel of the left one, under the swell, a quick finger across her nipple. It was like he’d struck her the way her body bucked in his arms. She let out a weary, agonized moan as her hand flew to her belly. 

She was soon screeching as she doubled over, suffering the most intense contraction yet. She sobbed as it lingered, begging for pain relief, for someone to pull the baby out of her, for merciful death.

As the pain ebbed slightly, her husband whispered a soft apology into her hair and she clutched the mattress with both hands, deep sobs wracking her body. 

On the next contraction she felt an enormous shift as the baby abruptly dropped into her birth canal. She let out a cry when the sudden pressure settled violently in her bottom. 

“I need to push, she declared, the impulse now so intense she couldn’t imagine anything else ever existed. Nurses scurried around her, putting her legs in stirrups, taking the table out from underneath, and preparing sheets and towels for the birth. “I’m gonna push now, OH MY GOD MY ASS!!”

Her experience pushing was a cruel one, lasting almost an hour against what was becoming clear was a baby that was too large for the passage. Every time she pushed it was like the bones in her pelvis creaked in warning. She was starting to drift in and out of consciousness as the pain assailed her, weak from laboring and then pushing for so long. 

Finally, the doctor sat down near her head, got her attention, and told her she had two options: forceps or an emergency c-section. She was too out of it from pain and exhaustion to really understand her options but her husband weighed in, telling her it would be better for views if she was awake right after the birth rather than recovering from surgery. 

So she signed the forms necessary for the intervention and zoned out in a haze of pain as her body was prepped for the procedure. Her pushes had become ineffective and it was agonizing to have to endure the contractions with no way to give in to the urge to push.

She was fully naked now, her huge breasts splayed across her chest as she was tilted backward so the stirrups could be adjusted higher. An oxygen mask was placed gently across her face as a nurse explained what would happen next: the numbing then the episiotomy, the way the doctor would place the forceps into her cervix around the baby’s head and pull as she pushed. She’d deliver the placenta, get a husband’s stitch, and be set to go before her 8pm scheduled live. Or so she planned out in her head. 

The nurse held her hand as she whined when the needle went in the number her for the cut. She grimaced when the scalpel cut into her skin; she was numb but it still felt weird knowing he was slicing into her pussy. 

The positioning of the first forcep was, perhaps, the most excruciating thing she’d experienced until now. Her hips and pelvis felt like they were going to snap and there was no room in her stuffed hole with the baby in there. She struggled against the pain, forcing the nurses to strap her into the stirrups and hold her arms down. 

When the doctor was finally able to start pulling, Violet screamed more than she pushed as the doctor worked to free the huge baby. He was finally able to move it down just above her lips in a tug that led to her immediately being hit with the ring of fire. She bucked her body back against the sudden pain and popped the forceps free of her opening in the process. 

She was a sobbing, agonized mess as the nurse explained she had to push the baby the rest of the way out. Jonathan was at her head, hand on her shoulders, whispering encouragement when the next contraction hit. 

She tucked her chin to her chest and bore down into her bottom, screaming at the way it stretched her skin to the limit. It went on like that for 4 or 5 pushes before she turned her exhausted face up to Jonathan and pleaded with him to help her. 

“I can’t do it, babe. He’s too big. I’m in so much pain, she moaned. “Please help me. I can’t do it.”

He patted her shoulder comfortingly as another contraction started building and she was taken by the surge of pain, wailing her effort. Her mighty push inched the baby through her opening, his face wedged suddenly, very painfully against her clitoris. 

“Oh my God, my clitoris! Holy fuck my clitoris hurts so bad!” She flailed on the bed, trying to nudge the baby off the poor little nub. She wailed her partner’s name as another contraction took her and she started moaning once again.

At what looked like the peak of the pain, he reached out and tweaked her left nipple. Hard. 

It had the same effect as it had earlier. The contraction doubled in intensity and Violet suddenly felt like she was breaking in half when the force of it propelled her baby’s head out of her pussy with an ominous cracking sound. She knew immediately the severity of what had just happened. 

“MY PUSSY BROKE! OH MY GOD, I FELT MY PUSSY BREAK!”

The next few minutes were a blur of doctors and nurses rushing to get the baby out of Violet as quickly as possible. She was splayed in the middle of the hive of activity, eyes glassy and a large, bloody head hanging from her swollen, ravaged pussy. Her tits bounced listlessly as the doctors struggle to free the shoulders. The sound she makes when it’s finally pulled from her broken pelvis, through the deep tears through her and anus and clitoris that resulted from the effort it took to get the shoulders out, was like nothing the even the most veteran of medical staff in the room had ever heard. 

Jonathan, relegated to the edge of the room, watched while the medical team assessed the wounds to his wife gaping sex and prepared to help her deliver the placenta. In his chest pocket, there were now 75,000 viewers who’d watched the whole ordeal live on his channel. The comments were full of people exclaiming how the moment the baby shot out of her was the hottest thing they’d ever seen. 

He didn't know he was becoming even more of a legend as he kept the live going while Violet cried while the placenta was delivered and pleaded for someone to give her something for the pain in her pussy before they wheeled her up to surgery.

In the end, he would never be able to get the brand deals his wife did, the following he developed the day his first child was born too niche and taboo for advertisers to want to be seen trying to reach. But he’d ride on the fame on the internet for years as the man who livestreamed his wife's agonizing delivery and broke her pussy when he tweaked her tit while she was crowning.

[roger-and-matti]

Roger's house has gone under several renovations. He started out at Crick Cabana in Willow Creek, that house got expanded until it was time to move to a bigger lot. After that I moved the house to Springscape in Oasis Springs, expanded it yet again and added several floors. I hate extra floors so he had to move to another lot yet again. He stayed in Oasis Springs and got the house moved to Vista Quarry and that's where he remained for a long time.

Roger accumulated wealth and fame. With that celebrity came a need to live among them, so I copied his lot to Chateau Peak, the biggest lot with a beautiful view. Since the lot was so big I decided to do a massive remodel to remove more of the extra floors before moving Roger there. It took a good while to finally be satisfied with it enough to move him on there but I never made it to that point. Fast forward to The Jump: moving him from xbox to the gallery and from there to my new laptop. I decided not to copy the house I remodeled because that would have to be remodeled again because of all the new expansions on the pc. So his house got moved to Red Roan Field in Chestnut Ridge. I did yet another complete remodel that took 2 weeks and a lot of frustration just for the house and greenhouse alone (greenhouse needs to be redone again). I intended to give him a whole ranch but 2 weeks of remodeling I wanted to play and I've been playing since. After Matti became a permanent member of the house hold a few rooms got redecorated with him in mind. Things have been hectic in the Hong household but now that things seem stable it might be time to work on that ranch.

[diamondintherioux]

9/5/24

6 months post op

Well ladies and gentlemen, we made it. Six. Months. Post. Op. Wow. What a journey it has been. I feel like I’ve lived 3 different lives.

This new body has given me what I always knew I had, shape. Real feminine shape that makes clothes actually fit my body. It’s crazy to think how diet and exercise truly couldn’t give me this body. I feel like I’m a butterfly floating through life. My jean size is smaller than what I wore in high school (granted I do think sizes are “bigger” nowadays.)

It’s peak* week for me because next week I’m leaving for vacation but I’m already thinking about what I’m going to do when I come home. For the past decade, every winter no matter how hard I try I always gain 10 lbs lol then I spend the spring and summer trying to lose it. Rinse and repeat. This year will obviously be different. I have a plan. When I come back I’ll be wearing my faja 12 hrs a day (basically to curb my appetite from the compression.) I will up my personal training 2x a week. I want to do private Pilates classes 2x a week. I bought a walking pad so no excuses to not get 10k steps but in the winter I want to aim for 20k steps a day. Half inside half outside. After that is my meal plan. Prioritizing protein and water intake. I’ve been slacking as per usual lol my lack of protein amps up my sugar addiction to supplement for my hunger lol I know it’s not funny and actually fucked up. I blame my mother for not cooking when I was younger and subsequently not teaching me.

In addition to fitness and nutrition I need to unclutter my mind. I have wayyyy too much stuff. Clothes, shoes, bags. I’m going to do a fall cleaning and donate everything. Even the designer stuff. I have to make a promise to myself; no more secondhand shopping. I get it, trust me, more than anyone how “good” it is for the environment. But I do believe there is a spiritual aspect to it that is negative. Bringing someone’s thrown away trash (essentially) into your scared space, onto your body. It’s bad. I’ve been thrifting / vintage shopping since 2011 and let me tell you I’ve accumulated so much shit lol it’s just not fun. Yeah you’re saving a buck but who gives a fuck? lol in the grand scheme of things when you get older you won’t want another person’s trash. Trust me. There’s a reason why rich people always remodel the homes they buy.

Beauty maintenance also starts in the winter. Stringent morning and nighttime routines. Red light therapy. Facials. Chemical peels. Micro-needling. Lasers. Lymphatic massages. I really want an eyebrow lift. I was thinking about getting an eyebrow transplant but I think an eyebrow lift is the way to go. Investing in your body > clothes/bags. Trust me

To circle back, this new body has changed my life. My job is to now maintain it and make sure it only gets better. You work out in the winter to show off in the summer. Next summer I want to be on a super yacht off the coast of Italy in the tiniest Brazilian bikini known to man. I want to take a photo 1 year post op and see how much I’ve changed. I want to lose 10lbs and then I truly think I’ll be happy (I swear I’m not crazy)

It’s so wild going from a size 6/8 to a 2/4 lol plastic surgery is so worth it if you do it slow, go to the best, and make tweaks

*peak week entails

Mani + pedi

Hair Botox

Brazilian wax (will get laser when I get back)

Eyelash extensions

Facial

Due to the location I going to I’m not getting a spray tan but that would usually be on the list.

[nothing-but-paisley]

Ooh what's Bad Bones?

It's a short story I'm kicking around. This baby's got it all:

generational trauma

nature-as-gothic

heavily symbolic dead steel mills

a shit ton of rivers

just rust belt things

goth lesbians

a murder mystery

home remodeling (i learned it from you, anne)

Thank you for the ask! Sorry it's not vc related 😅

Excerpt:

These Appalachian foothills are older than the Atlantic Ocean, which sundered them from what are now the Scottish Highlands. Older than the moon, maybe. They might have been taller than the Himalayas once, worn down over unthinkable eons, and the fossils inside them are ancient and strange. I used to go hunting for them in the shale, a serious and lonely child, splitting rocks to find the ghosts of ferns. Seeing the skeletal ridges of land again after months or years away, I can always feel their age.

Anna looks over at me from the driver’s seat and grins at the song that’s just come on the radio (Tom Petty's "American Girl"), her black hair caught in the hot green-smelling wind. Soon we’ll be poking around the hundred-year-old rooms of all the little houses we can maybe afford in the city, old frame constructions of the kind realtors call good bones.

As we crawl up the winding tree-lined way to Mt. Washington for a showing, Anna points out a derelict red brick house crawling with weeds and honeysuckle, the rotting front porch sagging like skin, a blue tarp hanging from the upper window like the tattered sail of a ghost ship.

“Good bones,” she drawls in a vampire voice and bites at my shoulder through dark denim, making me laugh.

“Mm, yeah.” The weather is unusually sunny, and the scent of grass and hot pavement is making me crave a cigarette, an old adolescent vice. “Meat’s a little stringy though.”

Just past this neighborhood, at the western peak of the ridge across the river from the lean dark skyscrapers of downtown, is an area called Duquesne Heights, once known as Coal Hill. Its houses are notorious for foundation issues caused by mine subsidence. My grandmother’s house was built in a similarly precarious place, on top of abandoned coal pits that could swallow a house without warning. Once after a lightning storm, the old strip mines caught fire underground and coal smoke rose up from unseen holes in the ground like the mouth of hell was open. I remember being terrified of falling through the sweet grassy earth and into the burning coal. It was a fear that never really went away.

My dad always avoided the basement of his childhood home—bad bones down there.

[fishys-still-writing-smut]

Pranked: Someone has started spreading a rumor that today was 'all girls nude day' at Hope's Peak. Which among the girls at Hope's Peak would fall for it...or just use it as an excuse to be naked!

"What do you think, Shuichi? Aren't lies just the best?"

"I can see they have their…uses." Shuichi gulped as he stared at the sight in front of him. He didn't know what Kokichi said, but several of the upperclassmen were completely naked!

A certain busty swimmer and gymnast were currently racing, taking full advantage of "all girls nude day" to see how fast they could truly move without clothes on. Meanwhile, Junko and Sayaka watched them from the bleachers, taking bets on who would win. Of course when neither of them were catcalling or teasing the lucky (or unlucky) boy that happened to find them.

Outside of the gym there were still naked girls aplenty. At the bench an excited Sonia was taking in the pastimes of commonors, such as playing video games with Chiaki. Of course, the fact that they were both naked drew a considerable crowd. But Sonia simply believed that this was a part of the culture and even satisfied some dirty requests of perverts watching. As far as Chiaki, well, Shuichi didn't think she actually noticed.

"I got your remodel right here!" A loud Miu yelled in the center of a sea of people. Ironically she was wearing the most clothes out of anyone Shuichi had seen so far. Well, if you count whatever sexy cosplay Tsumugi created clothes (Shuichi didn't, to him it was more like calling two stripes of paint on a house a paint job). Shuichi sighed at his school's pervertedness. I mean who would actually enjoy this?

"H-hey Shuichi."

Shuichi turned around, and immediately passed out. What he saw moments before his bloody nose themed fall was Kaede Akamatsu, his best friend, completely naked showing him her tits! She seemed kind of bashful, but despite the red face was staring directly at him. This was too much for the poor boy, and he fell on the ground with a very bloody nose.

"T-thanks for convincing everyone this was normal Kokichi." A sheepish Kaede thanked the prankster.

"No problem! Though, you probably should have just flashed him normally if you wanted to. Any boy who gets a bloody nose gets sent to Mikan, who is even more of a slutty pig than normal!"

"They get WHAT?!?"

Kokichi probably should have kept his mouth shut about that last part.

[wumblr]

in the interest of using my journal as a journal, this week i have...

got a drill (literally essential to almost every other item on this list). this pairs well with my extremely long extension cord (another essential product recommendation) since the nearest outlet to my living room is halfway up the attic stairs

went to menards (this isn't the first time, but i joked about never quite getting there, and then never posted about it when i did, which is a violation of my menards influencer contract) and found a nest chair on clearance (thing that has been on a list for years)

put up curtains, put up curtains, put up curtains (two windows and one room-dividing red curtain to hide the HVAC in my attic bedroom. i was sort of going for like, theater style curtains or twin peaks red room or aurora album cover... the lighting is wrong, the fabric is neither quite the right color nor texture, i have half as many curtains as i need, and i couldn't find exactly the right kind of rug to drive the illusion home, but it does make the whole thing seem a lot more like sleeping in a bedroom than squatting in a half-remodeled attic like some kind of modest mouse frontman, so, i guess i'll buy a used spotlight to pair with my used disco/dj/classic skating lights and keep looking for rugs to cover up the stain on the floor that i hope is from a long-past roof leakage and is not the spot where a previous tenant died)

put up wall art

anchored my bookshelves

deposited my tax return (i'm sorry for posting so many yoshi tax evasion jokes all these years and then just dutifully filing my taxes. or, if you're a tax auditor, this is not a joke)

got a kitchen table and chairs and put them together (regret to inform you i did not really have chairs this whole time. like i had chairs once. terrible chairs. and i got rid of them when i left portland. pleased to inform you my new ones are really nice). also a kitchen shelf. because i have the world's smallest cupboards. 6.5in wide. i measured them. what are you even supposed to do with these

replaced a fraction of the cardboard boxes that i've been keeping everything in with actual containers

i still need to...

take the old, mismatched, outdated front license plate off my car (augh) (surely this is illegal), an impossible task that requires the absurd notion of taking a screwdriver outside

fix... my studio... (it looks exactly like it did in the picture i posted and i'm actually mad i didn't have more time to use it in that state but now there's also a former kitchen table and a clearance nest chair in there. i have also sort of half-commited to a standing desk in the closet, which has shelves that are not exactly the same height, so now my if-you-give-a-mouse-a-cookie ass needs a piece of lumber, and i haven't even stained my spice rack board yet)

strip the seasoning off my cast iron pan (don't ask... i am learning about polymerization the hard way. i spread it on too thick. rookie mistake. how do you even start over. i am learning about depolymerization)

go to the hardware store because i used all my fucking screws. this is a literary technique called bookending and lets the reader know that the character's life is an endlessly repeating cycle of screwing and getting screws

[translucenseen]

If I were smiling,

Could you see how tightly I hold my face,

A precious caricature,

Contorting carefully,

Would you notice how the edges of my lips quiver?

Would you notice how I bare no teeth?

Or would you simply see,

The scarlet of my lips,

And not the scars of the cracks that run trails down their peaks?

If I were laughing,

Could you hear how my lungs struggle?

Would you know the weight that smothers them,

Or would you simply know the symphony,

Of my voice,

Emblazoned with honey,

Without knowing how it drowns me,

Sugar so sweet,

It offers no release,

But would you know me captive,

If my choir of cackles,

Orchestrate the open air?

If dimples lined my cheeks,

Would you acknowledge the tears that caress them,

Congregating on the concrete of my skin,

Would you see how my suffering sanctioned,

The divots on my surface

Or would you just see how my cheeks arch,

To accommodate for the space,

Stuck in my throat,

Where air should be,

But is regretfully,

Drowned by honey

If I stood before you,

Could you recognize me?

If I allowed myself to breathe,

Without honey,

Would I exist as I see,

Or would I deflate,

Into my original state,

Before dimples painted my surface,

And buried my foundation.

If I knew what color I bled,

Would I replace it instead,

With the color you expect,

Even though red,

Is so harsh,

Maybe at last,

I could recall the color,

I painted my skin before you remodeled,

But giggles and grins have replaced me,

And I do not know who I am,

Without who you designed me to be.

And so I will taste honey,

Until my teeth rot,

And my blood clots,

Red.

As you expect.

But I cannot say,

Whether you would direct,

Your attention,

Or care to mention,

If my blood rushed out,

Blue as the sky,

So long as the blood were mine,

And I laughed as I leaked,

And died,

In silence,

And smiles

- anonymous

[chishiii-shuntaro]

Shutaro didn't have time to react when Claire's slender fingers snatched one of the documents from his desk and begun to demonstrate how a wax document would be sealed with the ring. "I thought I told you to inform me before you touch anything of mine" he uttered through clenched teeth. "But to answer your question, yes, the red sticky substance would be wax. I wonder how you figured that one out." He said scratching his chin. Chishiya's unbothered eyes followed where Claire's eyes wandered. Towards Kuina who just woke up by the sudden entrance of the brunette woman, she lifted herself up into a half-laying position pulling the bedsheets over her body as her eyes shoot up and her cheeks turned red and her big brown eyes glued themselves to Shuntaro. He stood there, hands in the pockets of his hoodie observing Claire with neutral expression. "No need to apoligize, you managed to avoid the said situation." He said with a sneer. And then he sighed deeply when she again begun to touch the documents and when the paper wandered towards his face he peaked from the other side of it, looking at Claire, his eyebrows raised. "I would advise that you cease this behaviour immedietly." He said following her with his eyes when she stormed out to the bathroom. Kuina whistled under her breath and begun putting he bikini back on. "Quite a woman, and I am not dealing with that whatsoever, so I'm going to bounce. See ya later, Chishi." She said, getting up from the bed and heading towards the door, her eyes glued into the floor, her cheeks still red. "Hm, thank you for your immense support in this situation." Chishiya said sarastically, chuckling dryly when she dissapeared behind the closed door. Shuntaro undestood one thing — the woman seemed to cling to him almost, treating his possessions as hers and seeing Kuina in his bed irked her for some reason. Why was that the case was a mystery for him, for now, but he will figure this one out soon, as he always does. The tight knot in the lower parts of his abdomen begged to be solved too, but that was for a different evening where his mind isn't occupied with something of more importance than Claire's feeling about his private encounters. Claire got out of the bathroom and as she promised, she took some of his clothes and begun to remodel the bed so that the sheets that were still sweaty from the tangling of bodies layed on one side. "The trash" as she called it was pushed to the side and presumably ready for him to lay upon. He sighed deeply, again, he was exhausted with her fiery temperament and the way she ingraned herself into his space, even if he had other places to rest. Chishiya went up to the bed and sat at the edge where the "trash" bed sheets were resting, he opened the shelf in the side of the bed, pulled out a small pillow and a blue blanket and threw it at Claire. The blanket landing on her hips, and the pillow on her head. "There you are, your... not so trashy means of covering yourself up for the night." He said sarcastically, eyeing the brunette woman from head to toes, adorned in his clothes. "This behaviour is ridiculous and you are aware of it I am certain, I wish we could live in peace for the next few days and I advise you to stick to the rules I asked to be respected around here. We do not have to like each other, on the contrary you are allowed to hate me and the way I am, most people do but do not expect any support from me while you disrespect the way I welcomed you into my home and have been nothing but silent or indifferent about you shenanigans. I even bought you a present, as a sign of my good will." He said pointing at the colorful bikini. "I hope it fits you well, Hatter is really insistent on being exposed around the Beach, a way of displaying that you mean no harm as there is no way to hide a weapon in swimming trunks, no?" He chuckled to himself.

@little-lily-w

Premonition

Continuing from here

At his words, Claire’s expression changed drastically. Once he let go of her wrists, she pulled them back to her side with a gasp of annoyance.  “If you are dead alive, speak for yourself. But let the breathing beings honor the dead ones by living life to the fullest”, she let out kissing the side of her index finger and pointing to the sky briefly in respect when she mentioned the dead. She pushed the walkman right into his chest, earbud falling off of her as well as she walked to the bed. “And your nickname should be ‘asshole’. That’s one you’d understand better”. She said, still not letting him know what ‘guapo’ meant because the last thing he needed was for his ego to be boosted. “You have a horrible name”, she continued, grabbing both of the pillows and throwing them onto the ground so she could use them as a mattress down there. She lay down, moving her skirt slightly up to her knees for better comfort. Even if she could almost feel the floor against her small frame, it wouldn’t have been the first time she had to sleep like that. Claire turned to the side, giving her back at him, shoulder reaching her ear in a tense motion as she clenched her teeth hard not to let any emotion related to her mother betray her. He had put down what remained of her culture, what remained of the memories she had had with her. And most important, he had the name of the doctor who had been responsible for her death. Even if this was a stupid boy in borderland, that’s the last name on Earth she wanted to hear, especially when she was unable to seek revenge on this face-less man. “If you want a pillow, go make yourself one with the Ricky Martin casette, cabrón”/fucker/ 

.—

By the next morning, she was quick to open the door. The people assigned to be watchful of them weren’t there and instead, she was welcomed to a new day by Niragi’s face. 

“Slept well, little bird?”. 

“The best night of my life”, she replied, annoyed from head to toe and clearly not in the mood to hear any nonsense. 

“Really? I doubt that coming from him”. 

Claire chuckled. So the fucker wanted to play? Great. Let’s play. “Oh, trust me, he can be quite the gentleman”, she chew those words, looking over her shoulder back to Chishiya inside the bedroom. 

“Gentlemen are boring”, Niragi stated, cornering her against one side of the door frame and the woman looked to the side, rolling her eyes. 

“Am I free to leave now? Apparently I had to talk to some Hattter”. 

Niragi clicked his tongue, breathing too much air in on purpose so he could let out a loud exhalation. He pressed his palm flat on the wall next to Claire’s face, trapping her even more. “Not until you please me as well”. 

Claire forced another chuckle. She was really trying to look for an excuse not to take the handle of the infamous knife dancing in his belt and sink the blade into his stomach even if that meant she’d die by a bullet. “Pleasure is art, is aesthetically pleasing and demands a wise hand to be built and cared for. What you’re looking for is not pleasure. It’s trash. Trash in and trash out that you can simply throw into a garbage container with those nasty fingers of yours”: 

Niragi then turned his head to the side, laughing intensely before abruptly turning back to her and grabbing her by the chin harshly, fingers spread on her cheeks painfully, forcing her to open her mouth. “Which nasty fingers, bitch? These ones?” 

“Niragi!”, the voice of a man coming along the corridor caught his attention. “Let her go.” It wasn’t neccessary to add ‘now’ because Aguni’s presence was enough for him to release her. 

The tall man with animal print shirt moved to stand by the older man’s side, almost mimicking a stupid pose of superheroes. “She’s causing trouble. She’s always causing trouble”, he explained himself. 

Aguni eyed Claire up and down as she crossed her arms once more, and composed herself with her back against the wall. His serious face grew slightly gentler, seemingly curious of her exotic features. “Hatter is waiting for you”, he told her. 

“I was about to escort her”, Niragi intervened, mouth chewing an invisible gum. 

“I’ll take care of that. Join the rest. Apparently they’ve got new weapons”, the older man ordered not looking at him, his attention entirely stolen by Claire. Unenthusiastic, Niragi left, whistling on his steps out. 

“Are you okay?”, an atypical question coming from him but Claire didn’t know that. Finally someone who could handle that monkey. 

“I could be better”, she let out, realizing she still had a knot on Chishiya’s shirt and hurrying to get rid of it so it covered her more. “I’m supposed to talk to this Hatter man”. 

Aguni remained silent for a few seconds before tilting his head into the opposite direction. “This way”. 

Claire sighed. She was about to look into the room for Chishiya, to see if she could trust this new man but she decided not to in the last second. “Que te den por culo” /get fucked/, she whispered hoping she could follow her intuition and walking away behind Aguni, 

Kuina appeared in the scene moments later, hoping she’d see Chishiya now that the military had gone. But once she had him before her, her eyes show nothing more than surprise. “Damn, you look like you’ve been through a war field. Is she that tough?”. 

 @cheshire-shuntaro

[bamsara]

#6 “this is the guy?” seems like it could be funny

Moon x Reader | Wordcount: 1,544 | AO3 Version

Pre-fire, Solar Lunacy Arc 2. Bit of some jealous Moon in there ;)

In retrospect, you kinda saw this coming.

It was a new semester in collage so you had a new set of classmates, some of which you recognized and most of which you didn't. The best thing about collage is that there's no need to introduce yourself to your classmates, you're perfectly fine being left to your own devices; most people prefer it that way. So you bring your earbuds when the proffessor isn't talking when writing notes or working on your assignment, usually the universal 'leave me be' sign that everyone tends to respect.

Except this one guy. Sits in front of you everyday, always turns around to talk to you at the start of every class and has no quarrels trying to get your attention even when you're clearly just trying to keep unnoticed here.

You're friendly to him, polite even, so you don't tell him off when he nudges you to take out your earbuds to ask you what's it like working at the pizzaplex. The jacket must have peaked his interest, and you don't mind giving him a surface level description of your job. You just wish he would be more mindful when you're trying to write the same sentence in your notebook for the last ten minutes.

He's fairely easy to avoid outside of class. That is, until the professor assigns a week-long project and assigns team members, to which you and your new classmate pester are now apart of. That's how he gets your phone number for information sharing, and that's how he starts following all of your socials. Cursed be contact scynching.

The other two members of your group keeps things proffessional, but this guy was friendlier. Maybe a bit too friendly. He sends you things a little too comfortable for someone having known each other for a week or so. You don't mind making new friends; it would be nice, actaully.

But you don't think that's what this guy is looking for. Asking to meet up somewhere to discuss the project without the other members is suspisious enough, but you can't think of a situation where a new potential friend would send you shirtless snapchats asking if 'you're up' at 2AM.

Funny enough, you recieve this damnable picture in the middle of an overnight shift, and there's a clicking, metal on metal noise as your animatronic coworker hangs upside down from you, slowly spider-maning down on the wire as he looks down at your phone screen.

Moon makes a noise that's simular to clicking one's tongue in humans. "Interesting way to spend working hours."

You look up at him, a that rotates a full spin so it's upright and inches from your own, and deadpan. "Har har, very funny. It's the person I was talking about earlier. The classmate?"

He hums in aknowldement. You talk casual things sometimes when you're working, telling him about your day and him to you. Moon tells you about how he's remodeled the nap area for his return and complains that the allergy list for the children are outdated, and you tell him about your assignemtns and the classmate that seems to have taken a liking to you, against your will.

A metal hand lowers, gently grabbing your phone and turning it upright in front of his view. The glow from the screen is comical on his faceplate as red eyes and white pupils scan the picture dully.

The phone lowers. Moon's face is twisted into something of a grimence. "This is the guy?"

"That sounds mean, c'mon." You snatch the phone from him, clicking off the image and pocketing the phone. You don't really want to reply, you'll use 'no phones on shift' rule that you made up as an excuse or something. You return to your task at hand; pushing the cleaning cart down the hallway to your next spot. "He's fine. Overly friendly, but fine."

"That is not friendly." Moon is 'moonwalking' in the air following you, upside down so his legs are upwards while his face is level with you. "That is flirting."

You sigh, and it echoes off the walls. "I know, I know."

"Do you like it?" He asks. His tone is half teasing, half serious. "The attention."

You send him a look. "Oh, please."

He snickers. "Just a question."

"I'd prefer he'd keep it proffessional." You park the cart, unloading a couple trashbags down a trash chute in the wall. "I get more than enough attention from a certain Daycare Attendant coworker who's far from a 'proffessional relationship' too-"

"Tell him." Moon cuts you off, gently. "To back off."

"I did." You emphaize your tone with a final heave of a trashbag, shutting the slide door behind it. "I was really polite about it, and he seemed understanding, you know. At first at least. Still kinda off, though. I don't want to be too harsh about it because then it's going to make the whole project really...awkward."

"Lie." Moon's arms hang down until they grip the edge of the cart, using it as a guide as you begin to push it further down the hallway. His head tilts, faceplate blocking your view. "Say you're married."

You deadpan at him. "Why? And with what ring?"

His expression breaks out into mischivious grin, fingers raising up and going into the fabric of his hat. You stop, pulling back as Moon pulls out a small package from the confines of his hat, and blink at the ringpop thrust in your face.

Your bewilderment turns to amusement, and snatch it from him. "Hilarious. How long have you had that stashed in there just waiting for the opurtune moment for a joke?"

Moon's head does a full rotation. "Is that a yes."

"Moon."

"A while." He lifts off the cart, upwards on the wire until the animatronic lands softely on the carpet besides you. For a tall robot, he doesn't make any noise. Even the bells are quiet when he wants them to be. "Kids like candy, and magic tricks. I can summon candy at will." He raises his hands, wiggling his fingers. "Magic."

You tut at him. "Can Moondrops give kids cavities?"

"Not my problem."

"It is if the parents complain about it."

Moon's voice starts in rebuttle, but is cut off by the telling sign of buzzing. You pause, hands searching in your clothes for the vibrating phone and bringing it out, squinting at the words on the screen that's a stark contract to the dark lighting in the hallway. Your classmate's name pops up along with the default profile picture. A couple of notifcations tells you he's been trying to text you the last few minutes, asking if you were up for a late night chat about 'homework'.

You squint at the audacity of it, and move to let it ring out in your pocket. "I'm just gonna pretend I never saw it-"

Metal fingers over your own, tugging out of your palm. "Give."

You tug it right back, careful not to answer the still-ringing phone screen. "Oh yeah? What do you have planned exactly?"

Moon doesn't answer you, but something in his eyes flicker. The phone stops ringing as you furrow you brows, just about to put the device back in your pocket until you notice the screen was still lit. On the device, it shows you were in call, but no audio was coming through the speaker.

"Hi." Moon talks, seemenly to no one. His tone reminds you a little of how sour he talked when you first met. Friendly, if not in a bit of a sourly threatening type of way. "It's very late."

Your eyes dart back between the phone screen to the grinning animatronic, and gape.

Did this fucker really just bluetooth answer your phone call-

"The boyfriend." Moon answers to something. Any attempts to hang up on the phone don't work, and the animatronic casually leans away out of reach, grinning, as you whisper yell and swat at his face like there was going to be some secret button that would end the transmission. "Okay. Goodnight. Bye."

Your phone screen goes dark. Moon's head tilts at a sharp angle, leaning back down as you stare wide eyed at what just transpired.

Moon, non-chalantly, spins his head in a rotation. "No more annoyances."

Pocketing your phone, you glare at him. "You didn't-"

"I did." Snickering, the wire lifts him up into the air, and he acends very slowly out of smacking distance. "Now. I escape."

In the best way a jester could do after such a feat, Moon flies limply like a pinata down the hallway while you half-chase him, yelling while trying to keep the cleaning cart steady while you watch the animatronic chuckle and rotate like a corndog mid-air. "Oh my god. What did you say?? What did he say?"

"Oh, so sorry." He laughs, mimicking a cracking voice. "My bad. I didn't know. So sorry."

You feel bad for lying, but you're also laughing too, so you can't feel that bad. "Oh my god. What if he asks about it later? Do you know how awkward that is-"

"Awkward is calling a classmate at 2AM."

"Moon, c'mon."

"Should have said fiance." Moon contiues to spin like a corndog. "Would have been funnier."

"Moon."

[shimmer-like-agirl]

Some people write. Some people mod. Some people do VP. Some people spend hours placing and replacing furniture (and undoing some of the stuff I did last night). They look like they're enjoying it, so I'll call it a win

[cacklingblobbittyrabbitty]

unhinged rainbow magic post 4 of 12

There are ups and downs in this one yeaaaaaa but we do get the first two fairies of colour woohoo!

JEWEL FAIRIES

India LOOK AT THE PEARLESCENT DRESSSSSSSSS Peak 2000s cute girls (the dress silhouette) First sandals!! Shiny hair with cute lil pin babey First long hair? In conclusion, one of the most iconic first fairies so far?

Scarlett (but like why are you spelling it with two t’s?) Some points for rhyming Kitten heels gurl (first heels?) On first glance: cute! On second glance: I absolutely hate this 1) Pouffed up 90s ass hair 2) Waistline!!! Why does she got long torso syndrome 3) The colour difference between the skirt/shoulder and the torso material 4) Skirt split above the knee = dangerous 5) I just don’t like the waves In conclusion: why you trying to be as iconic as ruby

Emily First proper ginger!! and her freckles are so cute omg Green as a colour works BUT the background colour is heinous why would you do that Ballet shoes for the baddest bitches!!!! also Nice Power Pose HOwever. The dress. 1) Is that fuycking seaweed 2) Why would you fuck up my favourte halter neckline like this 3) Whole dress should be dark green HOWEVER double layered skirts ARE an icon - so points for that ig but at the end of the day this feels offensive to gingers 

Chloe First woman of colour babey Triple layered skirt? Yes Wraparound cardigan? Yes Headband? Yes Sharpay Evans could Never The red accents are chefs kiss Cute ass wings babey 2000s icon - one of the best examples so far

Amy MASSIVE mum vibes esp. with the 80s hair Oh jeans and dresses my beloathed The background shouldn’t be that colour I do like the range of purples So period accurate that it hurts Nice gold hair colour (not too brassy) Vibes are so immaculate that we don’t want to change anything - it feels like an Artefact

Sophie Second woman of colour! Go Jewel Fairies! VANS GO STYLE ICON I love her Her skirt and top are so iconic Off-the-shoulder bell sleeves with poof? It’s doing So Much but works So Well Socks are a slightly different colour than the sleeves which hurts my soul but the vans are so cool that I have to overlook it That haaaiiiir man? Incredible No notes

Lucy (diamond) The top is beautiful - cinched at the chest, long sleeves with open ends, diamond pattern Skirt? Hmmmm I really like the diamond pattern but it feels too sharp - I think more subtle spikes would work here Shout out to Cherryfall23 on deviantart for doing a great remodel of the skirt, making it a skater skirt with a triangular cutout waistline Hair is a statement and it is a good one - she cut it herself and she’s a hairdressing icon Boots. Incredible. Pulls off the cowboy style immaculately

[talesofsonicasura]

Donquixote Rosinante 'Corazon' with a Monster Hunter s/o

Decided to take a crack at One Piece for this one using some Monster Hunter. You don't need to know much about Monster Hunter, if anything from this genre comes up I'll help fill in the holes at the bottom. Can be read as Gender Neutral or preferred gender.

You met Corazon during a quest at the mountainous Arctic Ridge. It was a simple mission of gathering herbs and ore. You weren't alone with your monster pal tagging along: a Goss Harag.

Now imagine your surprise seeing a very tall man bleeding out on top the snow covered peak. The sight being enough to cut your mission short and help the poor bloke.

Quickly treating his injuries, your large snow oni beast pal quickly gotten the both of you down the mountain safely.

Your quarry didn't wake up until the next day once he had been taken back to your warm hut in the wilderness.

He seemed taken aback that he was alive than where he was. The man introduced himself as 'Corazon' and told his part of the story.

Hearing that his own brother shot him dead and might be from a different world had been jarring but you were kind enough to fill him in on his new situation. Especially considering your Goss Harag poked their head through the window and scared the man shitless.

Once you explained to him about the basics of your world and what a monster hunter was, Corazon wished to help you out. Both out of curiosity and for saving his life.

He'd admit he was honestly shocked that he still retain his Calm-Calm Fruit powers. A good boon when it came to quests that silence was needed the most. The monsters of your world could give even Marine Admirals a run for their money.

Corazon learned quite a lot about you over a short time thanks to his experience as a spy. You were an oddity capable of communicating and befriending monsters. Most of your weapons and armor were crafted from materials gifted by the various beasts you bonded with.

He was absolutely dumbfounded seeing a large dragon like beast pluck a few of its scales to give to you or your world's equivalent of a Lapin traded part of its catch with ya.

That kindness had no bounds. You always made sure he was comfortable and felt safe. His clumsiness wasn't something you didn't mind and often tend to any injuries he got.

Remodeling the house and furniture to suit his much taller frame. Made him clothes that not only fit him but also made it harder to damage. Corazon never felt properly pampered before. Especially out of willingness considering his bloodline.

Despite their intimidating appearance, your Goss Harag was a big sweetheart. The large beast often snuggling next to him to keep cool against the blistering heat. Corazon had been on the receiving end of the Snow Oni Beast's grooming sessions.

It taken time for him to realize that he had feelings for you. So one day, Corazon went out on a solo quest of his own without your knowledge.

When he'd came back with his harsh burns, you nearly had a heart attack. Especially when the blonde said about fighting a red winged lion with horns, Corazon had picked a fight with a bloody Elder Dragon: Teostra.

You were ready to scold him when he handed you something. It was a necklace with the most beautiful gem inside: a ruby peppered with fiery orange sparkles inside, a Teostra Gem.

It was here that Corazon told you his true feelings. You whacked him on the head at first but you did admit that you felt the same way.

He did get scolded and a grooming session from your Goss Harag but the man didn't regret his impromptu mission.

And that's it. Nearly every anime fan has their own favorite clown man, most having Hisoka from Hunter x Hunter. I never really had one until One Piece introduced Corazon. I love this big blonde klutz of an assassin and felt so robbed with his death. Fuck you Donflamingo.

If you guys are wondering, yes this is set after Corazon gave his life to save Law. There probably be a few more of these in the future. Until next time folks, have some info.

Goss Harag, known as Snow Oni Beast or Limb Reaper:

An ice element monster that lives in harsh cold areas. They're extremely powerful and can suck in cold air to freeze its bodily fluids. It then sprays those fluids on its arms to form large icy blades with unique effects. When angered, it turns red and becomes even more dangerous.

Teostra, known as Flame King Dragon or Emperor of Flame:

A fire element monster and Elder Dragon that prefers very hot areas like deserts or volcanoes. This aggressive and territorial beast can breath hot fire alongside producing an aura of flame. It releases explosive powder from it's scales and ignites it to create massive explosions.

Elder Dragons- Monsters referred to as walking forces of nature. Capable of unbelievable damage and rumored to be able to end the world if left unchecked.

Next Part

[austajunk]

Game of Despair (fic)

Chapter One: Despair Gamer

Summary: Surviving through her massive injuries following the ending of the Despair Arc, Chiaki Nanami has fallen after her fellow classmates have become Remnants of Despair. However, when altercations with a certain Servant brings up the chance to find a special person that she lost once again, Chiaki and the aforementioned problematic Servant have no choice but to traverse the apocalypse to bring Izuru Kamukura back to the light of Hope…maybe!

Rating: Mature (because duh)

Warnings: Gore, death, general manipulation and Remnants of Despair Shenanigans

A/N: Hey there. Originally this was a fan comic on tumblr that I did, but due to the scale of the project, I decided it would work better as a fic. The introduction to this fic is different from the fan comic just so I could keep things fresh to write. Please enjoy! You can also find this fic on AO3 if you prefer to read there. I’ll link later.

Games were supposed to be fun. Anyone could play them and they could be played together. It didn’t matter if it was a bad game or if the person you were playing with had any talent whatsoever. It wasn’t the point. The point was to get closer to another person.

At least, that was the philosophy Chiaki Nanami once went by. Games were something that made her happy, but another thing that chained her down at the same time. By being the Super High School Level Gamer, she was locked to her beloved talent and didn’t see any way to open herself to others. That was until she met Hajime Hinata and her teacher, Chisa Yukizome, had showed the strawberry-haired gamer that it was possible to form all the connections she wanted in her life through her talent. For the first time in her life, she had started to feel complete at Hope’s Peak Academy. She was the Class Representative of a band of Ultimate students who were anything but normal... but she loved them with all her heart.

Until the claws of Despair ripped everything away from her, that was. Chiaki Nanami was now a shell of her former self, but that was okay. With her mind filled with nothing but an urge to induce chaos, she couldn’t feel anything for the person she once was. If she couldn’t remember that person, what were they really worth?

—

The fiery skies poured overhead and mixed with the blackness of the night. There was no possible way to see the stars anymore at this point so deep into the end of the world. The only light that could be seen was from a small Nantendo game screen flickering. A girl with pink hair and discolored pink and red eyes leaned against some wreckage, watching as several people ran from demolished buildings and screamed in anguish for their loved ones. Children, women, and even grown men sobbed as a waterfall of bullets cascaded down on their bodies from above.

“You’re losing, you know?” The gamer sighed, twirling a small finger around some of her peach-tinted hair.

On her game screen, a hoard of bullets were raining down on a mass of zombies, massacring them on her side of the screen. The zombie side was fading pitifully fast, their organs squishing from the onslaught of shots.

Beside Chiaki, a man was trembling with the Nantendo in his hand. Sweat was pouring down the front of his head and his breathing was heavy. It looked as though the pale-faced man was going to pass out at any moment. His eyes were blood shot. He had been at this for hours, all to keep the game going and going and going... but it felt like one big, mad, never-ending spiral. He just wanted to drop the game, but all his hostages and prizes were dying all around him the moment he showed any weakness. A large black collar around his neck was tightening every time a point fell from his score. His throat was so constricted that his lips were starting to get purple.

Oh well, Chiaki thought. She was starting to get bored of this anyways. It was really sad though. For a few sweet moments, she had felt an exhilaration like no other. Her entire body had tensed, heat caking her cheeks. She wanted to drop the game and throw herself at the poor man beside her, to rub her curvaceous body against him until she got off on human contact alone when his score had gotten ahead. But alas, that sort of contact had started to wane on his score... and Chiaki’s interests.

“This is disappointing,” said Chiaki, obliterating the rest of the man’s score. Her side of the screen flashed WINNER in big bright red letters and the man beside her squealed in terror. He started convulsing and screaming, the air in his lungs dissipating fast until he seized over and fell over. His eyes bulged from his skull and his neck was bruised and purple until a satisfying crack sounded from his neck. Well... as satisfying as Chiaki could imagine it anyways.

Watching the man’s corpse go limp, she dropped her handheld game console beside him and simply fished another one from her black and white bear-shaped bag. She tapped the screen to life and began to jab at the buttons as though she wasn’t lying beside someone's corpse on top of a bunch of debris underneath a smoke-encrusted sky of darkness. But that was just the world.

Shrieks and screams of agony littered the sky, joining together to create a chaos-induced despair. It was probably the biggest death count Chiaki had earned so far. Her victim, to his credit, had lasted a total of thirteen hours before his score declined and Chiaki’s interest dropped. It was pleasurable until he waned. Now Chiaki was content to just let the cries in the night be silenced as the conclusion of their game (with real human casualties) and to just get up and leave. She did so, leaving her purple game console with the man’s corpse as memento and something of her personal signature. All the world would know where to find the person who could bring the greatest challenge of a killing game to them and that was what she wanted.

The gamer longed to find someone who could beat her and make her feel alive again. Or to feel anything at all. Even if Chiaki knew that she was nowhere close to feeling anything anymore. “My purpose... is Despair,” she uttered to no one in particular, merely touching her forehead as though to remind herself of that fact. It was foolish to stray, foolish to want or desire anything in such a world. Something like that almost seemed like a spec of Hope was left in her heart... which was impossible once the legendary Junko Enoshima snuffed it out.

Thanks to Junko, all the games in the world would not suffice to bring Chiaki Nanami back. One by one, she had been forced to watch her classmates fall into Despair, to watch them torture, massacre and rape others in Junko’s image. Chained to a wall, she watched for over a year as blood sprayed across a dingy massive screen that Junko had left her to view the carnage. She had been tormented and stuck in Hope’s Peak Academy until the last inch of Hope was executed from her body, until she finally wavered and gave into Despair. With the last specs of good will drained from her, the chains around her neck slipped off and she was allowed to walk free in this ruined world... where it felt entirely purposeless to live. But that was the point.

Everything was ruined. Her life was only good for making everyone else experience her own personal Despair. And Chiaki had set to it.

And as far as she was concerned, games were meant to be shared with everyone. Even the bad ones…

—

On the eastern side of a Towa city, a dingy and caved-in subway had been remodeled into a small chamber for the Despair Gamer. She always returned there to rest or to just recollect herself whenever she was bored or wanted to avoid the other Despairs. A bunch of pillows were tucked together for a makeshift gaming chair that she was slumped over, absorbed in one of her prized Nantendo titles.

Only the soft clinking of chains from behind roused her attention ever so slightly.

“Ah… that guy from before didn’t keep you occupied for long, did he?” Said a carefree voice behind Chiaki as she played. “For a moment, it looked like he was really doing it for you.”

Chiaki tilted her head, sinking back into her cushioned gaming chair. It wasn’t hard to figure out who the other presence in this fortress of death was, so she didn’t bother to look at him as he went to work on disposing of the body. What she didn’t notice however was that her Servant wasn’t empty-handed. He had entered the chamber with a large burlap sack… one that was squirming eerily.

Nagito Komaeda. To say he gave into Despair wasn’t quite so accurate. Hope would always win in the end… but it had to be challenged, cultivated… yes, becoming Despair was only meant to encourage Hope. And that was why he belonged to the other Remnants of Despair. He was theirs to use as they saw fit, but he just could not help returning to her again and again. Chiaki Nanami was like a serial killer by now… one complete with a soft, pudgy face and wide, innocent eyes. Utterly fascinating that one so lovely and gentle could rip apart so many people. Despair really had power over others… an alluring, undeniable, sick and twisted power… all Servant wanted to do was be there to witness Hope shatter the monster before him that Despair had created.

But until that happened… oh, how thoughts of Junko Enoshima made the heat swell through every inch of his body…

As if craving her attention, Servant spoke to her again. She could practically feel the grin etched on his face. “Have you gotten so used to the stench of death, Chiaki? You’re actually letting the corpses decompose around you now…” He nodded his head to rotting cadavers left at the back of the room. Perhaps Chiaki had forgotten they were there?

Chiaki’s lips twitched into a small frown, more so from being interrupted. Servant was a strange one. He had something familiar about him, like someone she should remember but it simply did not occur to her to try and do so. If he caused no reaction in her, then that was all there was to it whether she recalled him or not. The pale-haired boy seemed to follow her about like a puppy-dog, sometimes aiding her in procuring or disposing of victims whenever they met up. Chiaki had considered simply killing him, but something in her intuition told her that playing a Killing Game with the likes of him simply wasn’t a wise choice. And straight up slaughtering him was too kind, too merciful. How was she to invoke Despair in the name of Junko Enoshima if she simply hacked up his body?

And so, Chiaki found herself lifting her head at the jostling of chains behind her, watching the metal links swing side to side from around the Servant’s neck. He had a large grin painted on his face as he always did, taking a seat across from her in her little chair. “I guess the smell of death caught me off guard last time,” she mused thoughtfully to him, uncaring if he was really here for conversation or not. He did as he pleased and proved to be quite the clingy individual. But so long as he did the dirty work, Chiaki didn’t mind occasionally indulging him.

“It made me sick... but... now I don’t smell anything. I wonder if I’ve destroyed my sense of smell. Or my brain simply cares less and less each time...” Chiaki said with sigh, curling up in her chair and reaching for her games again. “Why did you come back?” It was really annoying when Chiaki was content to be left alone with her games for the rest of eternity. Alas victims were hard to come by in the apocalypse. Something about people wanting to salvage their lives. She couldn’t understand that. People were going to be slaughtered en masse either way, so shouldn’t they be trying to find the best way to have fun?

That was what Ultimate Despair Gamer was for. To teach others that life was just one big game and if they weren’t having fun, well... their lives didn’t amount to much, did they?

Servant tilted his head at her, his green eyes holding her emotionless gaze for a moment. “Oh, yes! I actually brought you another gift. I don’t want to be too optimistic, but…” He gestured to the struggling brown sack beside him. “I think this may really be the one. If he can’t satisfy you a little more than your usual prey, then I’ll take full responsibility…”

“Hm?” Chiaki stood up and slowly drifted over to the squirming sack that the Servant had left in the middle of the room. A gift? For her? A light blush crept onto her cheeks as she approached the bag and knelt down to pull it back. As soon as she saw the victim awaiting her, a jolt of electric joy shot through her. She gasped lightly and watched as the person’s light chestnut hair spiked up into her view. This was... No... why was the sight of the person’s hair inspiring such a range of emotions on her face? Her eyes lit up and a shudder ran through her body. She wanted to pull the captive close to her already.

Lightly, she pulled the gag from his lips and let him cough and sputter. He wanted to scramble away from the bizarre Gamer, but she quickly grabbed ahold of his shoulders and urged him closer to her. Her breasts rested against his front and she nuzzled him almost affectionately. Startled by the cute girl’s sudden comforting presence, the man didn’t want to feel at ease, especially with her twisted smile flashing down upon him. But at the same time... she seemed harmless. Perhaps a little deranged? But soft and pretty enough... He shakily steadied her against him, wondering if she was the prisoner of this strange, messed up death chamber just like he was. He barely took notice of the boy behind her with the manic grin and kept his eyes trained on her.

“Wh-Where am I...?” The chestnut-haired student asked her. At least, he appeared to be a student with his plain white uniform and dark trousers. A pair of glasses rested askew on his nose. “Are you a prisoner too?! Did that guy kidnap you?”

Chiaki couldn’t help but to tense at the guy’s caring voice, the way he put concern for her before anything else. Even himself. It felt so familiar and she was melting on the inside. Her face became more twisted, more heated and aroused. This was the one! He had to be the one! He was going to play with her until she could finally lie down and let the cold grip of death eclipse her. A final game where she could be happy, fulfilled, complete—

“What’s your name?” Chiaki asked him lightly, trying to hide the frantic blush on her cheeks. This was so embarrassing. Her heart was fluttering for him.

“Ahhh? Oh... Um, Yusuke?” The man responded, looking around. “Look, why don’t we try to find a way out of here before that guy shows up again? That mastermind!”

“Hm?” Chiaki crossed her legs. “Oh... him. He doesn’t matter. What matters is... well... do you like games, Yusuke?” Her soft voice almost held a low purr to it.

Suddenly, there was a sense of unease in the air. Yusuke blinked and pushed up his glasses. “Um...games?”

—

A small tear trickled over the pale, dead face of her latest victim. After hours and hours and hours of gaming, Yusuke had simply crumpled over. All throughout the week, he had kept Chiaki occupied. Even when he sobbed to her and begged her to let him go, Chiaki was completely enthralled with him. Not a single one of her victims had been so satisfying. He must have truly adored her to keep up such a unique concentration to whatever game she picked out for them to play. He cared for her... he must have loved her to play with her all this time. But then... it was as though his body simply gave out.

Now Yusuke’s corpse decorated the floor of her room, his body still warm from how hard it had worked to bring her even an ounce of joy. Chiaki lingered beside him, her face twisted with what could truly be called Despair. It wasn’t fair. He loved her. Why did he break under all the gaming? She could go forever...

Servant watched her from the corner of the chambers, a small sigh leaving his lips. Something about her actions had slightly disturbed him. For close to a week, he had watched Chiaki become truly elated. It was like she was a different person. And now the young man he had offered up to her was nothing more than a body getting colder by the moment. She drained every last agonizing bit of life from him. It was so thoughtless, so empty…

“I wonder why you don’t just let them rest…” He said, stepping forward as if to pull Chiaki away from the body. “Oh well. I’ll find you a new toy. That will satisfy you!” What hollow words. There was nothing out there that could satisfy the monster before him. That was probably the most horrifying thing about her… but it made him utterly enthralled with her.

“...It’s never going to be enough...” Chiaki said solemnly as she heard the rustling of chains clinking in the background. She knew Servant was behind her, waiting for the body to be disposed of, but Chiaki didn’t want to let it go.

“This was the... the best one... and he wasn’t even enough. Nowhere close... He was like a barrel of love... and I need an ocean... I...I...” She trembled, stifling a sob. Even as a Remnant of Despair, it wasn’t like she lacked feelings... even if they were only centered on herself and self-preservation.

She sighed a hollow bitter sigh and stood up, giving Yusuke’s body a savage kick with her boots. After watching the dirt from her shoes smear his cheek, she turned around and walked past Servant.

“The person you’re searching for… he doesn’t exist anymore…”

Chiaki suddenly clutched her chest tightly as though she were in pain. There was an unbearable pounding in her head. Make it stop… it had to stop… why couldn’t she ignore it?

“I’m not staying here. I’m... I’m going to leave. I want to find something else...something I lost.” The words left her lips before she even realized it. She could almost envision that person with the same chestnut hair and soft, sincere smile. But she didn’t remember his name... not a bit…

Just as she headed to the entrance of the chamber that Servant was leaning against, a foot suddenly kicked up to block her exit. She stepped back and looked at Servant, a frown working onto her gentle features.

“Ah… I thought we may hit this little snag,” Servant said, his smile fading slightly. “You’ve lost a lot of things. It won’t help you to search for all of them! More than likely, you’ll never find anything!” He put his hands together, pleading. “Let me find you another toy! The next one will satisfy you for sure.”

“What..? I…” Chiaki blinked and rubbed her eyes. Those words were making her feel just a tad woozy.

“There, there,” Servant cooed, entwining his arm with hers to lead her away from the door. “Won’t you stay here with me, Chiaki? Just for today… don’t look for what you can’t find. Just stay here today.” Forever. He intended to keep her as long as he could. Hope had to be protected.

And the person she wanted… that same person lit up his entire world as well. The thoughts of that person…

“Chiaki, just stay here… ah, I know,” said Servant behind her, wrapping his arms around her shoulders, “let’s play a game together. You and me. If you win—“

“Then I leave,” muttered Chiaki. Then she blinked again in realization.

The smell of this chamber was starting to get to her. Perhaps it was because the last toy truly was something she did like. She couldn’t stop playing with him until he broke. But Chiaki wasn’t looking at the remnants of her beloved toy anymore. Instead, she peered at the filthy walls and floors of her game chamber. Decayed bits of body parts were strewn about across the floor and the stench was starting to become invasive again.

How long had she been in these chambers? She couldn’t remember when she had first entered, only that soon after, the Servant had appeared. He would scavenge for food and toys for her, to keep her occupied and “satisfied” with any new playthings he happened to procure. Chiaki groaned, her head feeling a bit heavy. “Ungh...” She clutched her face, trying to ignore the stench of death wafting in the air. Something about the charming spell of this place was starting to wear off fast and she quite despised it.

Chiaki shook her head, trying to brush off the sickening realization that she just didn’t know how long she had been in a chamber like this, playing games with toy after toy after toy. How many had she killed? Well... they existed to please her, so it didn’t matter. But... when had she last stepped outside? When had she tried to leave? Every time she had risen from her chair to peer out into the world, the Servant would give her a friendly wave and insist that he would go out to bring her food or more toys. It was all just too irksome.

She turned back to Servant. “I want to leave.”

“Of course. If you’re ready, you’ll win,” said Servant cheerfully, waving his obscured hand. “But if I win… hmm… how about this? For every game you lose against me, I’ll alter your appearance just a little…”

“Alter my appearance…?”

Servant nodded, motioning for her to take a seat back in her Gamer chair.

“That’s right. For every game you fail,” he said, letting his voice trail off just a bit, “I’ll remodel you to look a bit more like Lady Junko Enoshima each time.”

“Of course, are you really sure you want to play?”

[dadsbongos]

School Worker AU fic(?)

Movie/Game/Show: Danganronpa (just in general) Dynamic: idk fuckin everyone is in their senior year though Warnings: all of the danganronpa cast - unless otherwise specified - is in their senior year of hs Summary: Tsumugi makes a documentary. AU: Hope’s Peak is a shitty public school that makes their senior students work around the district in self-made or pre-existing programs in order to earn a crucial credit they need for graduation. A lot of the students want a “raise” in their wages because of the work they do, even though “raise” just means any money at all. ~~~

Maki twirled a long strand of her brown hair around her finger, eyes flickering over it boredly, “Yeah, I want to get paid for this.”

Kaito’s eyes widened, an uneasy smile crossing over his lips and nervously looking between his girlfriend and the camera, “Oh, c’mon, Maki-roll, it’s not about money! It’s about the kids!”

“It’s about the money,” Maki glared at the camera, “Pay me.”

~~

“How do I feel about being paid?” Kaede giggled nervously, looking to her other two bandmates, “Well, it’s not about the money, we like playing for kids and the elderly.”

“Ibuki mostly agrees,” the girl with wildly multi-colored began, “However, Ibuki would also like to be paid for our hard work.”

Sayaka nodded shyly, a small smile on her lips, “I like working for the kids and elderly, but I also would like to have said work rewarded, if I could.”

~~

“Yeah,” Hajime picked up yet another empty plastic water bottle with a gloved hand as he responded to the question, “I would love to get paid but nobody gives a shit about the kids cleaning.”

Chiaki, who wasn’t even holding her trash bag - preferring to have her face stuffed into her handheld, “Not paying us is the school’s way of preparing us for the years of unpaid extraneous labor ahead of us in an adult working environment… I think.”

~~

“I should be gettin’ fuckin’ paid,” Mondo grit his teeth, no longer soaping up his math teacher’s car with Kazuichi and just looking at the camera, “I don’t get stared at by those fuckers,” he jabbed a thumb in the direction of a small gaggle of giggling freshman, “for free. I hate this shit.”

Kazuichi nodded, “I don’t even get to remodel the cars! I just wash them, that’s so lame!”

~~

“Duh - yeah, I wanna get paid!” Junko scoffed, rolling her eyes, “What am I? Twelve? I don’t do this shit for nothing!”

Mukuro sighed quietly, practically elbow deep in the dirt, “You don’t do anything…”

“The hell did you say to me, you fat, ugly, skank?” the blond pressed a stiletto boot into her sister’s back, shoving her face-first into the flower beds Mukuro would now have to redo.

~~

“So,” Tsumugi Shirogane held a mic to her mouth as she stared into the camera, “with so many students demanding a raise in wages, which would mean any wages at all, let’s get to the core issue of why these students feel that their work is so reward-worthy.”

A few feet away, Mikan was watching the hostess of the documentary with nervous eyes, her heart racing as she turned to Rantaro, “Oh my God, is she g-gonna ask us questions? I’m n-not good at speaking. I-I’ll stutter and mum-mumble and she’ll ask me to re-repeat myself, oh God…”

“Hey,” Rantaro gave the girl a small smile, carefully setting his hand on her shoulder, “it’ll be okay. I can do most of the talking, if you want?”

Mikan nodded shakily, fingers intertwining and scrambling apart repeatedly, “Th-that would be p-preferred, tha-thank you…”

As Tsumugi crossed towards the students, she stuck a microphone into Rantaro’s face first, thankfully. Quick to the point, she asked him the question of the segment, “Why, exactly, do you think your work is worth the funding of payment?”

“We do basically the same amount of work that the ordinary school nurse does under regulation and we’re certain our efforts are worthy of payment,” in order to avoid the awkwardness of Tsumugi having to ask Mikan, he gestured to his partner in nursing, “We both are.”

Nodding, Tsumugi moved to place the microphone into Mikan’s face anyway, “And your thoughts?”

“Uhhhh,” Mikan froze up, patting the tips of her fingers into each other, “y-yeah?”

“Yeah, what?”

“Yeah with Rantaro…”

Tsumugi blinked at the girl, standing there for a minute before slowly nodding and turning back to the camera to continue her segment.

Mikan turned to Rantaro with wide eyes, tears already bubbling at her waterline, “Oh my God… I just did that… I just- I - oh my God…”

Rantaro nodded, crossing his arms with a pitying smile, “Yeah, that was pretty bad.”

~~

A loud, resounding thud was the opening sound of the shot, a girl landing flat on her back on a gym mat is the scene. The gymnasium is filled with a multitude of students in fighting stance - a tall girl with red eyes and a short boy with blond hair standing at the front.

Tsumugi narrowly dodges stray hits and flying bodies being tossed over shoulders as she approaches the two senior students. She judges how confrontational they both look and decides to not hastily jam her mic into either of their faces as she asks, “And what is the program you two have picked up for your required credit?”

Peko doesn’t look away from the students as she answers, “Self-defense.”

Fuyuhiko nods, “Any-fuckin’-body can sign up but most of these kids are girls and LGBT+. They’re who mostly comes.”

“Which is a whole different problem on its own,” Peko added, “The fact that they feel the need to learn self-defense rather than trust that nobody will try attacking them for simply walking down the street is rather saddening.”

“Oh, well that’s incredibly noble of you,” Tsumugi breathed out, slightly surprised - she hadn’t expected such mean-looking students to care so much

“Someone has to beat up scumbags,” the taller of the pair shrugged, “My arms were getting tired.”

“Right…” Tsumugi nodded, “uh, you two share this gym with another group, correct?”

“Oh, fuck, yeah,” Fuyuhiko glanced to one of the clocks encaged on the wall, “They should be back in- “

“We’re here for the gym!” a voice boomed out in the space, “Move out!”

“No!” Fuyuhiko shook his head, charging towards the pair and the volleyball team they were coaching that day, he jammed a finger into the girl’s shoulder, “You asshats are always too early! Peko and I got another ten minutes, at least!”

“Well, they need the gym now!” Akane gestured to the team, which was awkwardly standing around and waiting for the approval of Nekomaru and Akane to spread out to the gym, “‘Sides, it’s just five minutes!”

“Eight, now,” the blond crossed his arms, “They continue, you guys wait your turn.”

Seeing no soon-to-come resolution from the pair, Nekomaru moved past Fuyuhiko and Akane as they argued and towards Peko at the front. He rubbed the back of his neck, “We really need the gym right now. You can take our last ten minutes tomorrow if that’d be fair.”

Thinking over the proposal, Peko nodded before picking up the whistle from around her neck and blowing into it before calling to the self-defense class, “Alright, dress out and head home! Remember what you’ve learned and stay safe! Tomorrow, we’ll be meeting out by the baseball field!”

Fuyuhiko sighed, clenching his eyes shut to avoid looking at Akane’s smug grin, “You’re lucky Peko stepped in or I would’ve laid your ass out on the mat.”

“Whatever you say, baby face,” the girl snickered, strolling by to join Nekomaru’s side.

“What did you call me?!”

Tsumugi looked to the new faces, “Do you two fight like that often?”

Akane nodded confidently, “Constantly!”

Sighing, Nekomaru lowered his head, “That’s not a brag.”

“And you two do what around the school?”

“We pick up the school’s teams when the coaches are busy,” Akane pat her outrageously buff partner’s back, “You should see coach Nekomaru out there! He’s like a pro!”

“Well, that’s certainly something!” Tsumugi giggled, “And I can assume you two want to be paid for your efforts?”

“We’re supposed to be paid for this?!”

~~

“Oh my God, leave us alone, you guys are so mean, assholes!”

“Don’t say that, we’re on school grounds! A teacher could walk by at any time!”

“Can you two please be quiet? They’re not even responding to you at this point.”

“We must focus on this column entry!”

“Y-yeah… so s-stop bothering us…”

Tsumugi hesitated, looking at the camera with furrowed brows, “Do we even want to go in?”

The camera shifted with the director’s nodding, the girl sighing loudly before quietly agreeing and pushing the door open to see a classroom with only five people in it. A short boy with untamed purple hair being held back from clawing at the back of a girl with long braids and glasses by another boy with greenish hair… God, what color was that?

Another girl looked up from the desk she was sitting at, “Are you here for the documentary on student payment for their work efforts involving school credit?”

“Yes, I am,” Tsumugi was incredibly tempted to lie, say she got lost, and run out - but she didn’t. Instead, she asked them to introduce themselves.

“Kyoko Kirigiri,” the girl at the desk introduced herself with a solid nod before returning to her work.

The boy holding back his friend finally managed to calm the purple-haired one down before shyly waving, “Shuichi Saihara,” to prevent the other boy from talking, Shuichi clapped a hand over his mouth with an exhausted look, “This is Kokichi Ouma. Us three solve ‘mysteries’ around school, it’s mostly just stolen items. They,” he pointed to the pair on the other side of the room, “write the school newspaper.”

Kokichi managed to release himself from Shuichi’s grasp, immediately rushing towards Tsumugi and grabbing her long skirt between his hands and throttling her, “Help! They’ve kidnapped me! I’m being held against my will!”

“Ah!” Tsumugi screamed, looking up to Shuichi, “What is he talking about?!”

“He’s a liar,” Kyoko piped up, “He’s annoying but he gets the job done quickly so I haven’t kicked him out yet.”

The girl across the room huffed, “C-can you s-shut up over there? And you,” she pointed at Tsumugi, “hurry up and get over here s-so we can get b-back to work…”

“Right,” she nodded slowly before going over to the pair, “You two write the newspaper, that must include some interesting stories.”

“N-not really… I’m T-Toko Fukawa. That's Hi-Hifumi Yamada…” she gave the boy a side-eye, “Don’t say anything w-weird…”

“Never!” he cheered, turning to Tsumugi, “I am Hifumi Yamada- “

“Yeah,” Tsumugi sighed, already rather exhausted with his loudness, “Toko already introduced you.”

“But you may call me by my online dubbing - The Alpha and The Omega!”

“Alright,” Tsumugi dryly replied - he didn’t seem awful, but he definitely wasn’t for her.

“Wait!” Kokichi whined as the girl was leaving, grabbing at the tail of her skirt, “Didn’t you hear me earlier?! These creeps kidnapped me! They’re gonna kill me!”

“Stop talking,” Kyoko mumbled.

Shuichi sighed, running his hands through his hair, “Please, Kokichi, you’re giving me grey hairs and I’m barely eighteen…”

Tsumugi rubbed over her eyes, exhaustion ringing over her, “Me too and I haven’t even known you for ten minutes.”

~~

“No more crazies… no more crazies… no more crazies…” Tsumugi repeatedly murmured to herself as she rubbed her temples. Finally taking notice of the camera pointed at her, she hissed, “You better cut that.”

Once again, there was the motion of a nod from the director before following Tsumugi around to the back of the elementary school neighboring Hope’s Peak to find two more groups. This time, however, the two groups were working together extremely well and weren’t fighting whatsoever. Who knew how refreshing it could be to not hear yelling for five minutes?

It seemed that the third-grade student body had been split in half between a group of two and a group of three. The two were monitoring as kids ran around the large field - the three had kids standing at canvases with just a few bouncing around one with long hair tied in what appeared to be fishtail braids.

“Aw,” Tsumugi smiled at the sweet sight, “Okay, let’s go over there.”

A voice popped up from behind the camera, “I heard about these girls from the headmaster. Those two,” he pointed over to a muscular girl picking up kids on her arms with a shorter girl trailing behind her, “are Sakura Ogami and Aoi Asahina. They go around to closeby elementary schools and set up field days for the kids,” then to the group of three, made up of a white-haired girl in a long yellow overcoat, a redhead with extremely pointy boots, and the fishtail girl throwing obviously fake hits with some kids, “They’re Angie Yonaga, Himiko Yumeno, and Tenko Chabashira. They teach kids about the arts. Except for Tenko who teaches them her made up Neo-Aikido, something about controlling emotions and all that junk.”

“Wow,” Tsumugi breathed out, still approaching the two groups, “that’s so great. They seem like a fun- “

Then, out of nowhere, Tenko suddenly tossed Angie over her shoulder, causing an eruption of cheers to burst from the children.

Tsumugi’s face fell, she turned around and nearly ran out from behind the school and towards the car. Chants of “no, no, no, no” leaving her lips.

~~

“Oh, finally, normal people…”

The two boys in the copy room looked up at Tsumugi’s sigh.

“You must be the documentary girl?” the brunette smiled slightly, unevenly, “Sorry, I don’t know your name,” he lifted up a stack of papers, “Kyoko probably mentioned it but I was grading.”

“Tsumugi Shirogane!” the white-haired boy cheered, setting down the papers in his hands, “You’ve come to get my worthless opinion on whether or not student workers should be paid?! How incredible!”

“Sorry about him,” the shorter of the pair chuckled, “He has an inferiority complex. We’re working on it.”

“Uh-huh,” not as bland as she thought, apparently, “You two are… TAs?”

“Yeah,” the shorter nodded once again, “We work under Miss Yukizome, but lots of students everywhere are TAs, so I don’t think we should really have a say in this…”

“Especially me!” the other one butted in, “I barely help at all… I’m just garbage…”

“Nagito, you’re not garbage, and you do a lot!”

“With all respect, Makoto, the only reason you’re stuck with me is because all the other teachers can’t stand me!”

“Well, the only reason I’m here is because nobody else had a spot open.”

“Do you two just comfort each other about your hang-ups?”

“Yeah,” Makoto nodded, already pulling Nagito into a hug and patting his back, “it’s nice. Like super amateur therapy.”

“Painfully normal in comparison to the others,” Tsumugi turned to the camera, “Almost as plain as me.”

“No,” the voice from behind the camera peeped up again, “You’re still definitely the plainer one.”

~~

“We duel-work animal care and the occult,” Sonia cheered, holding a small puppy in her arms as Gundham fed hamsters in the back of the room, “It’s quite a bit of work but we manage, don’t we?”

Gundham nodded silently.

“Does…” Tsumugi gestured to the boy, “Does he ever speak?”

“You haven’t built enough resistance to the poison that would slip from his lips, unfortunately,” Sonia shakes her head, frowning slightly, “He doesn’t speak to people unless they’re immune.”

“And you are?”

“Surprisingly, yes!” eyes lighting up at the question, Sonia nodded excitedly, “It seems that I have managed to build up an immunity to his poison without even realizing it! Is that not amazing?”

Refraining from rolling her eyes, Tsumugi merely glanced between the beautiful blond and the boy hiding his bright red face in his scarf, “It truly is amazing, yes. How wonderfully random.”

“Wanna go?” the director asked.

“Yeah…”

~~

The camera aimed at a downcast Tsumugi, a frown depressingly obvious over her features. The voice behind the camera popped up, “Wanna try Celestia at the math club again?”

“And get told that only people she hates more than her own clubmates are theatre kids and then get called theatre kids and yelled at to get out again?” the girl grumbled, letting her microphone fall down into her lap as she sat slumped against the wall, “No thanks, Monokuma.”

“I mean, she’s not wrong,” the camera turned to show off the boy going by Monokuma with heterochromatic black-and-red eyes, half-and-half dyed hair between white and black. He snickered, “Yeah, I’m a big theatre kid. It’s unfortunate. You are, too, just let it go.”

“She might be right, but it’s still mean!”

[jurassicsunsets]

Pachycephalosaur domes: Function

Welcome back! We last left our heroine (that’s me!) as she gave a brief overview of the history of interpretations of pachycephalosaur domes. We now return to your regularly scheduled program.

However, little discussion was had of the function of the pachycephalosaur dome in this early work, with suggestions limited to the broad category of “armour” (ex: Gilmore, 1924). 

(Image: A skeletal restoration of Stegoceras validum showing pachycephalosaur anatomy as known in 1924. Outlined parts are inferred from comparison with Hypsilophodon. Image from Gilmore (1924).)

The first worker to propose a functional use of pachycephalosaur domes was Edwin Colbert in 1955, who compared the domes to the cranial “bosses” of artiodactyls and suggested that they may have been used similarly in head-butting battles - here used to mean head-to-head smashing contests -  over mates. 

Galton (1971) thought this was a pretty boss idea, and pointed out that the domes of pachycephalosaurs were made of very thick solid bone. Bone takes a lot of energy to maintain; despite looking like a static, dead rock, it is in fact a living tissue that is constantly remodeling itself (hence why you can repair after a broken bone!). If the domes were just for display, Galton argued that it’d be much more beneficial for them to be hollow. (This would also make them lighter to carry around.)

This still left the suggestion of the dome being used as an anti-predator weapon. Galton argued that this also was unlikely — after all, if something is trying to kill you, why not have a sharply pointed head instead of a dull, rounded one? Finally, Galton pointed out that the neck articulation was rotated to the bottom of the skull, a condition that we’ve seen is extremely rare among animals. He argued that this was an adaptation for transferring stresses away from the brain and into the body after two pachycephalosaurs bonked heads.

(Image: *Bonk*. <Drawings of pachycephalosaur skulls bonking into each other, with arrows showing his interpretation of how forces would be transferred>. From Galton (1971).)

Sues (1978) agreed that the thickening of the skull functioned to reinforce it for use as a battering ram. In order to see whether it had any structures that indicated special adaptations for bonking heads, he cut a pachycephalosaur dome open and looked inside it.

Modern animals that butt heads with each other are, of course, in danger, because the skull contains the brain, which is a part of the body that you generally don’t like getting sloshed around. A completely solid dome, while very durable, might thus not be the best way to go if you’re bonking into things. This is because it would lead to all forces traveling directly into the brain, without absorbing any of the impact. A more springy dome that keeps its strength but can deform would mean that that stress gets reduced. It’s the same reason why modern cars are designed to crumple to keep you safe. 

So in order to counter that, modern head-butting mammals have hollow areas on their heads that are reinforced on the inside with bony struts. Here’s an example of that in a Cape Buffalo:

(Photo: The skull of a Cape Buffalo (Syncerus caffer), which has broken open, revealing a complex series of sinuses and body struts under the horns. Source)

 So what did Sues find when he cut open the skulls of pachycephalosaurs? See for yourself:

(Image: A thin section through the dome of a Stegoceras validus - this section is cut from “ear to ear”, if that helps you imagine it (though note that their ears weren’t quite in the same place as ours; this is just to help clarify what’s being shown here). I’ll describe anatomically what’s going on in the next paragraph. Image from Sues (1978).)

First things first, those big cracks are not anatomical features; so far as I can tell, they are just cracks in the specimen. What we’re really looking at here are the much smaller bony struts and cavities that radiate away from where the brain would be towards the outside of the skull. Sues termed these radiating trabeculae, and argued that they served a similar function to the sinuses in buffalo. They are not nearly as big as the ones in buffalo, but Sues suggested that differences in brain size and structure might have meant that such protection wasn’t as necessary in pachycephalosaurs.

This idea that the pachycephalosaur skull could resist stresses was elaborated on by Snively and Cox (2008), who, using computer models, demonstrated that point stresses applied to higher-domed skulls would diminish rapidly with distance from the point of contact. They found that flat-headed pachycephalosaur skulls would propagate stresses through their structures far more. Based on these results, they predicted a high occurrence of injury to the surface of the dome. 

(Image: Biomechanical computer models of the flat-headed Homalocephale and the dome-headed Pachycephalosaurus. The former shows high stresses throughout the “dome”, while the latter shows stresses diminishing near the point of contact.)

Their predictions were confirmed by Peterson et al. (2013), who examined domes across pachycephalosaur diversity for evidence of injury. Fully 22% of specimens observed showed injuries to the frontoparietal dome, and 7% of specimens had 6 or more lesions. This is an insanely high frequency of injury, and lends some support to the idea that they were hitting their heads against something. Injuries were concentrated near the peak of the dome, as might be expected were domes used in butting behaviour; all flat-headed specimens examined lacked head injuries. 

(Image: Six different pachycephalosaur domes, all with surface injuries (indicated with white arrows). Image from Peterson et al (2013).)

Snively and Theodor (2011) offered comparisons to modern head-butting mammals including giraffes, musk oxen, and duikers by examining bone density. Their results showed that pachycephalosaur cranial domes exhibit particularly dense bone superficially but much less dense bone as one moves deeper into the dome, a pattern seen also in head-butting artiodactyls, and suggested that this supports them using their heads to hit things with. 

(Image: Scans through the skull of Stegoceras, showing higher bone density in red and lower in blue. Higher-density bone is concentrated towards the outside of the dome, with lower-density bone inside. Modified from Snively and Theodor (2011).)

Modern animals that butt heads typically have broad-flat surfaces (as in bighorn sheep) or otherwise branches or structures to maintain contact (as in ibex, for example). Pachycephalosaurs have neither of these, instead having rounded domes; if two ran at each other, it is easy to image how they might glance off each other and injure their necks. Sues (1978) thus argued that the domed shape might indicate flank-butting (in which animals would ram each others’ sides). 

(Image: Problems with pachycephalosaurs bonking heads. Modern bighorn sheep skulls have wide surfaces of contact, while pachycephalosaurs would have only a very small point on the top of a round dome. Image from Carpenter (1997))

 This was elaborated upon by Carpenter (1997), who noted that the head-butting hypothesis supposes that the skull and vertebral column act in a straight line to transmit forces through the body (rather than into the neck). Carpenter observed that, though no complete neck is known from a pachycephalosaur, the orientation of the back vertebrae and of the socket on the skull necessitate a gently S-curved neck and back, as in most ornithischians. As such a curved neck would transmit stresses diagonally on the spinal column, it risks breaking the neck. Today’s head-butting mammals solve this problem by having tall spines on their neck and back vertebrae, but these are not present in pachycephalosaurs. 

(Image: Schematic drawing of a pachycephalosaur skeleton, showing S-curved neck and transmission of stress shear-wise to vertebral column. Modified from Carpenter (1997).)

He agreed that flank-butting was a more likely use of pachycephalosaur domes, pointing to similar behaviour in modern African antelope. Finally, Carpenter pointed to the wide ribcage of pachycephalosaurs as possible evidence of thickening the torso to better protect against butting behaviour. 

(Image: Drawing of two pachycephalosaurs butting each others’ flanks. Modified from Carpenter (1997).)

Goodwin et al (1998) agreed about flank-butting, and also believed that the structure of the dome would not have offered protection against stresses as the trabeculae were not interconnected. Instead, they interpreted the structures instead as artefacts of rapid growth of the dome.

Bony reinforcements of the tail are pretty common in dinosaurs; they are most extensive in the “duck-billed” hadrosaurs, in which the tendons of the back have turned to bone and effectively make the entire back and tail stiff and unable to move. 

Pachycephalosaurs have similar-looking structures on their tails, and Goodwin et al. suggested that the reinforced tail of pachycephalosaurs may have served a role in flank-butting behaviour, offering that it may have been used as a defensive weapon against other pachycephalosaurs.

(Image: Skeletal drawing of Stegoceras. Note the complex “basket” of bones reinforcing the tail. Image by Scott Hartman @skeletaldrawing​.)

However, the idea of the tail as a defensive weapon was rejected by Brown and Russell (2012). These authors demonstrated that, amazingly, the “basket” of bones reinforcing the tail are not tendons, but instead the divisions between the individual muscle blacks that have turned to bone! This is a condition that’s unknown in any other tetrapod (though it’s present in some fish). Due to the location of the ossifications within the muscles rather than the skin, these authors argued that it would not be useful as a weapon. These authors instead suggested that the the tail served to brace the body in a tripodal stance during flank-butting, an idea first proposed by Maryańska and Osmólska (1974).

The first major objection to be raised against generalised butting behaviour in pachycephalosaurs was by Goodwin and Horner (2004), who sliced into the domes of pachycephalosaur skulls of different ages. Building off of work done by Goodwin et al. (1998), they argued that the “radiating trabeculae” that had been cited by previous authors as being adaptations for reducing strain on the brain are instead temporary features associated with the rapid growth of the skull and disappear as the animal ages, and that the shape of the adult dome was ill-suited for dissipating stress. 

(Image: Thin sections of two pachycephalosaur domes, the left from a younger individual, the right from an older individual. Stage II (the less dense, spongier bone) is propotionally thicker in the younger individual. Images are not to scale. From Goodwin and Horner (2004).)

The authours instead argued that pachycephalosaur domes functioned as species-recognition characteristics, as they were apparently not sexually dimorphic (to be discused in a future post, which will be linked here).

This idea received criticism for failing to address why animals would evolve such thick and dense structures if they were just for display, and I confess I don’t buy the idea at all. . Lehman (2010) also took issue with the characterisation of the dome histology, concluding that the radial structure of the bone was present even in the most superficial, densest bone zone, albeit with a decreased amount of vascularity; and that the less compact, vascular bone was maintained at least until the individual attained adult size. He further noted that trabecular struts of a form similar to those found in pachycephalosaur frontoparietal domes are strongest against compressional stress along their long axis, consistent with high strength in pachycephalosaur domes. 

Longrich et al (2010) argued that the dome could not possibly have functioned in species recognition, because dome shape is not significantly different between different species — an observation that, to my view, is an extremely convincing argument against the “species recognition” idea. These authors also pointed out that some degree of asymmetry was not uncommon in pachycephalosaur domes, and noted that this is a common trait of featured which have been sexually selected (both in display structures and intra-specific weapons).

This was a bit of a longer post this week, but I wanted to make sure I had a good overview of different proposed functions of the dome. This series will conclude next week with a look into who had the dome, and finally what I think they were doing with it! A link to that will be >here< once it’s up.