#so now he just has juicy shorts for no reason

[himbopunk]

companion to this one

being like 7 feet tall makes griffin cuddles easier. however there are consequences

[immortalmrwavell]

The Identity Transfer

(Original story posted February 6th 2023) This story has been mildly Updated!

Written for @the-natwolf

It’d been a long day for Nat as he arrived home feeling exhausted and wanting nothing more than to chill out for the last few hours of the evening. The first thing he did was whip up a nice hot meal for himself to satiate his growling stomach. Soon after he’d finished his meal, he was collapsing onto his bed with a drink in hand as he pulled out his phone and scrolled through some of his socials.

Naturally it wasn’t long before he found himself on Instagram. He took a sip from his drink as he flicked through the various posts. Some were of his friends, some being adverts and others being funny videos. But of course one of the most common themes while scrolling had to be the huge manly hunks showing off their half naked bodies. As a gay man, who could blame him. There would be bears, jocks, dads and meatheads alike just filling his feed to the point where more often than not Nat found himself unable to go on Instagram in public.

“Damn he looks good…” Nat mumbled to himself as he stopped on an image of a bear showing off his big hairy pecs and stomach. In honesty he’d always been a little jealous of men like that. Men that were huge and masculine. It made sense though. After all, Nat was 26 now and stood at around 5’7 with a pretty lean average build. He wasn’t really that hairy either. He might not have been as hunky as the men he drooled over but he didn’t hate his body. He was content with what he had… mostly. When there were guys out there his age and younger that were well over 6 foot and stacked with muscle, it was hard not to be at least a little envious of them.

He took another sip of his drink before his seemingly endless scrolling was stopped dead in its tracks. Up had popped a new post from one of his favourite dudes on Instagram. Ched Uzor!

He was a massive dude in every sense. Incredibly tall and insanely muscular with dashing good looks that made the smaller man swoon every time. Along with almost any gay man for that matter. He was gorgeous! So much so that Nat couldn’t help but pull up the man’s profile and start scrolling through all his posts again like he had many times before. He could never get enough of drinking that man in.

As it turned out Ched was an online coach that took on clients to help with training and getting into shape so naturally this meant he posted tons of pictures and videos dedicated to showing off his physique. Plentiful amounts of shirtless pics in the mirror to show off his god-like body for all to see. There were even a few where he stood in nothing but a towel or a tight pair of shorts that left little to the imagination. Those posts always drove Nat and many others crazy. Getting to see those chiselled abs and incredible pecs was always a treat. Not to mention those colossal arms of his that needed no introduction. Apparently he considered them his best feature and for good reason. Just one of Ched’s gigantic biceps looked to be the same size as one of Nat’s legs!

He continued to search through the bank of juicy content with a growing tent in his jeans. There were of course many workout videos to go with all the pics he put up which was just the icing on the cake. Getting to see Ched working those impressive muscles of his in an effort to pump them even bigger than they already were. He really couldn’t be more of a beast! Though his British English accent was something that frequently threw Nat off. He hadn’t expected it when he first heard Ched’s voice but he certainly didn’t hate it. He found it being quite the turn on actually!

Eventually he’d begun to lose himself a bit. Soon finding himself gulping the rest of his drink down so he could focus on rubbing his arousal over his jeans while gawking at this man’s amazing body. “Fuck… I wish I could be just like him.” Nat muttered to himself. He was just about ready to unzip and whip his dick out when suddenly a strange pop up filled his screen. It said:

- Our service has deemed you eligible for an identity transfer. From what we can gather, you wish to become like the user of this account “Ched Uzor”. Would you like us to proceed in making that possible for you? -

Beneath the message was a green accept button and a red deny button. Naturally Nat’s first instinct was to deny with strange pop ups like this but as his finger hovered over the red option, he hesitated. He had no idea why but for some reason, something deep down was telling him to accept. The logical part of his mind was telling him it was most likely a scam or a virus or some kind but at the same time something else was tugging at him. Telling him that it was real and to just trust it… so he pressed accept. After which there was a slight nervousness building in his chest as a new pop up emerged that simply read:

- Confirmation Received. Preparing Physical Transfer… Gathering Information… -

Seeing this Nat began to panic slightly. What was he thinking accepting this random link!? It was probably taking all the personal info off his phone right now! Next thing he knows he’s gonna have an emptied out bank account and most of his emails compromised! Though just as the fear began to set in, the screen changed once again.

- Preparation Complete! Beginning Physical Transfer… 0% -

Physical transfer? What the hell did that mean? Well Nat was soon about to find out. He tapped away at his phone a little, trying to back out from whatever this was but nothing was working. Even pressing the home button or holding down the power button did nothing as the percentage metre slowly began to tick up.

His eyes widened in disbelief when he noticed the pale skin on his hands beginning to darken. At first he thought he was seeing things but he couldn’t deny it when they started expanding too! Growing larger and meatier while also gaining a more weathered look you’d see on guys who did plenty of physical labour or spent lots of time in the gym. Before long his enlarged hands had turned a deep ebony in colour and that darker hue was quickly starting to spread across his light skin. He tossed his phone onto the couch in panic as he could do nothing but watch this bizarre transformation progress…

- Physical Transfer… 5% -

Next up were his forearms. His skin didn’t waste any time in converting from his usual pale white to a much darker tone. His biceps and shoulders soon followed the same example until both of Nat’s arms looked as though they belonged to a black man! He barely had time to process this though as moments after he felt a warm tingle flow up and down his arms for a second until suddenly they began expanding with muscle!

It began once again with his forearms pumping up rather aggressively with his biceps and triceps quickly following suit as they grew to seemingly no end. It wasn’t long before he’d not only filled out the sleeves of his shirt but the fabric was beginning to dig into his biceps until a faint ripping sound could be heard. That sound only got louder as his shoulders started to bulge, growing into huge boulders of muscle.

He looked… ridiculous! His arms were huge, bulky and a completely different colour to the rest of his small white body. Thankfully it wouldn’t stop there though. As soon as his arms finally reached their full enormous size, the transformation began to spread further.

- Physical Transfer… 25% -

Saying Nat was bewildered would be an understatement. He took a second to marvel at his arms by moving and flexing them a little as he stood up from the couch. The sleeves on his t-shirt were torn in multiple places and only continued to tear as he checked out his new guns. They were gigantic to say the least. He’d go as far as to say his arms were now bigger than a lot of the jock dudes he’d seen at the local gym. Though, as incredible as they were, they probably looked rather silly and out of place on his much smaller pale body.

Just then however, as if on cue, there was another warm tingle that darted around his torso. Of course Nat had been far too focused on the new size of his arms to notice that the skin beneath his shirt had continued changing. It started with small splotches of colour appearing across his chest, stomach, back and traps. At first making his skin appear tanned in those spots but as the patches spread and connected to one another, the tone deepened even further until it matched the same rich ebony skin colour his arms now proudly adorned.

- Physical transfer… 40% -

After what had just happened down with his now hulking arms, Nat already had a good idea of what to expect next when the warm tingle across his torso subsided. He stared down at himself, breath hitching slightly as he waited. And then he felt it. A strange pulsing sensation flooding through his upper body and then…

“UUROOUGGHH!…” Nat bellowed as his chest suddenly heaved forwards, his once unimpressive pecs eagerly starting to take shape. What was previously a relatively flat chest ballooned out into a juicy pair of meaty muscle tits that strained desperately against the front of his shirt. At the same time he found his torso growing thicker and wider in unison with his pecs. His back broadened more by the second until a massive rip tore across the spine of his shirt as he hulked out of it. It simply wasn’t able to contain so much man.

Nat’s eyes began to flicker and roll with all the intense feelings rushing through him right now. The changes were so overwhelming but at the same time… he didn’t want it to stop. Even smiling a little as he felt his traps start to bulge and his neck thicken slightly to compensate. But it didn’t end there. Even as all this new muscle was growing, his height had been increasing a little as well. His torso had grown significantly longer as his former 5’7 statue extended up to 5’11. It couldn’t be more obvious as his shirt rode up enough to give the world a view of his new thick dark abs.

That said he still looked quite ridiculous. He had the arms and torso of a bulky black man with the head and lower body of an average white dude. Not for much longer though.

- Physical Transfer… 65% -

The changes seemed slowed down towards his neck for time being but they didn’t stop their march downwards to the lower half of his body. Naturally the first things to be swallowed by the darkening skin were his groin and his backside. Then as the tingling began to swarm those two regions, it was near impossible for Nat to hide the huge grin forming on his face. By this point he was fully embracing the insane transformation and only wanted more! He didn’t know how it was possible but it just felt so damn good! All he could think about now was the rest of his body getting huge and how amazing it was going to feel!

The back of his jeans started to grow tighter by the second as his ass expanded aggressively, plumping itself up with more and more muscle. Before long his jeans were forced to really stretch themselves over two thick globes that put his former ass to shame. But it didn’t stop at the heavy black jock butt. If anything Nat’s attention was much more focused on his crotch as he rubbed a large hand over it. He could already feel the next change setting in fast.

His hard and already black cock started to bulge obscenely in his pants as it pumped itself bigger and fatter. Gaining not only length as it bucked and pulsed but some delicious girth as well that would stretch any hole to its limit. He almost couldn’t believe he didn’t cum on the spot as the mushroom tip grew thicker and rounder inside the confines of his jeans. He’d managed to stifle his moans for the most part up until that point but he couldn’t help letting out a long groan when his balls suddenly bloated to a huge and heavy size without warning. A glob of precum stained the inside of his pants as his nuts swelled with jock seed.

- Physical Transfer… 75% -

As was expected by this point, the ebony colour spread down across Nat’s legs causing his thighs and calves to darken multiple shades in tone. The change crept lower before finishing with his feet as they endured the same fate. He pulled up one of his pants legs slightly to confirm this was the case and he couldn’t help but get excited upon seeing the dark skin, knowing what was to come. His entire body from the neck down was black!

Moments later that now familiar pulsing sensation travelled up and down his legs. What followed was the sound of his jeans ripping at seams as his legs started to pack on years worth of hard earned muscle in a matter of minutes. His thighs thickened to watermelon crushing levels of size and power while his calves slowly but surely began to grow to the size of sturdy footballs. During which all Nat could hear was the sound of his legs tearing his jeans apart. But once again it didn’t stop there. Along with all the muscle, his legs began stretching longer as well. It wasn’t long before his already increased height of 5’11 went well past 6 foot and all the way up to 6’4! By that point his muscle had finished expanding leaving him with a set of huge meaty legs and jeans that were clinging on for dear life. They were in complete tatters like his shirt. The button on the front had popped off and his ankles were exposed thanks to the jeans now riding up his legs!

He only got a few seconds to rest however as the next little transformation wasn’t waiting right around the corner. The only warning he got was a pleasant buzzing sensation flowing through his feet before suddenly they began exploding with size. They grew at such a rapid rate that within moments they completely burst out of his shoes. With a grin Nat gave his new black size 14 feet a wriggle, loving the feel of how big they were.

- Physical Transfer… 90% -

Now there was only one part left to go and Nat was ready to embrace it. He closed his eyes with a smile as the darkening skin resumed its spread up over his neck and towards his head. It took a little longer than the rest of the body but before long there wasn’t a trace left of Nat’s once pale skin left. Every inch of him was now a rich dark tone. But with the skin done, it was time for the rest of his features to catch up!

A warm wave of tingly pleasure washed over his head as the final changes began. It started with the lump in his throat shifting slightly and readjusting to give him a slightly deeper and more intimidating voice but also one that could be sensual and charming. The main event however was the face itself. Facial features began moving, growing, shrinking, sharpening and softening in all the right places until there was almost no resemblance to the original Nat left. His jaw was stronger, his lips were fuller and his nose was broader. The only thing left was his hair but even that quickly began to recede from the shaggy mop it had once been into something much shorter. Forming into tight neat curls that were distinctly black. And to top it all off a short bristly beard sprouted across his face to match, making his visage all that much more handsome.

- Physical Transfer… 100%… Complete! Physical Identity of “Ched Uzor” assumed! -

Bringing his hands up to his face, Nat couldn’t believe what he was feeling. Everything about it felt different to the spacing between his eyes to the size of his features to the feeling of his hair. It was insane but at the same time extremely erotic for some reason. He had to see what he looked like.

He was in luck as he’d recently put up a new mirror in his bedroom of which he soon found himself stumbling towards, not used to his new weight and centre of gravity. Though despite having just gone through the whole transformation, nothing could’ve prepared him for what he saw. Staring back at him was a black muscular hunk! But not just any hunk… it was Ched Uzor! *He* was Ched Uzor! The same man he’d been drooling over online for years!

Of course Nat was far too distracted to notice but across the room on his bed, the message on his phone changed as it began to initiate the next phase…

- Preparing Mental Transfer… Gathering Information… -

Being blissfully unaware of this second transfer, Nat immediately began exploring himself with glee. He never imagined he’d get to experience what it felt like to have a body like this. Not only powerful and muscular but extremely tall as well. Before he'd always felt like the short dude in a crowd but now that he was 6’4 things are gonna be very different. Even now he couldn’t help but notice how much smaller everything seemed. How the floor looked so much further away and how things like his bed, desk and closet seemed so tiny now. It was crazy to wrap his head around but he could certainly get used to it.

- Preparation Complete! Beginning Mental Transfer… 0% -

Nat couldn’t help but love how his former clothes were now in tatters as they struggled to contain his new godly form. Despite that, he had to get a proper look. And so he gripped his torn t-shirt and with one swift motion, ripped it off his torso with ease. Tossing the fabric to one side, Nat took the opportunity to marvel at his incredible upper body. Starting by giving his juicy new pecs a generous squeeze before pinching at his dark nipples. He couldn’t even begin to imagine how many guys he’d get to fuck with a body like this. He was gonna have dudes practically falling to their knees before him.

“Mmm I wonder if I can bounce my pecs like this…” Nat mumbled to himself, loving the new English accent to his voice. He struggled at first, flexing the muscle on his chest awkwardly, but then something just hit him. Suddenly he started popping his pecs like a pro. No wonder because he’s been able to bounce them like that for years now!

- Mental Transfer… 10% -

Once he’d had his fun with his pecs, Nat made sure to give his abs a bit of attention as well, running his hands across the hard ridges with a bite of his lip before moving onto his arms. Sure he’d given them a good flex earlier but now he had the rest of the body to back them up. To say they were unreal wouldn’t do them enough justice. They were so massive and juicy that merely moving his huge arms gave him a power rush, never mind flexing them for the mirror. Getting to feel the pure strength behind all that raw muscle was intoxicating.

“Ughhh yeah!… I’m so huge!” He moaned as his enlarged cock strained against his underwear. He was getting drunk on the sensation of how huge his arms were. No wonder he considered them his best feature. He’d always had big arms so when he started training them properly they just exploded with size! Now he and everyone he met couldn’t seem to get enough of them.

- Mental Transfer… 25% -

He just had to see his body in its full glory. Not wasting any more time Chat gripped his jeans and just like with his shirt he ripped them off before tossing the remains to the side. Now all he had covering himself was an extremely tight pair of underwear that had the tip of his excited cock peeking out one of the leg holes. Overall he was pretty surprised that his underwear seemed intact. Or so he thought anyway.

After giving a quick twirl in the mirror, he was fast to notice a huge rip down the back that gave a perfect window view of his large muscle ass. Seeing this Chat couldn’t help but laugh before giving his big butt a hefty slap, enjoying the way it recoiled slightly. “Yeahhh boy! That’s what I’m talkin about!” He smirked as he took pride in the powerful glutes he’d crafted over the years, just as impressive as the rest of his body.

But of course he couldn’t ignore the main course for long. That new cock of his was begging for attention and Chat was willing enough to oblige. He turned back around to face the mirror once more before ripping off his underwear and allowing his fat new dick to spring free at last. Finally he was able to get a good look at his body in its entirety. “Thank fuck I decided to drop college so I could work on my body.” He stated proudly while turning to look at himself from every possible angle

- Mental Transfer… 50% -

Chat was completely oblivious to what was happening to his mind. With every second that passed his personal reality was being warped around him. He was starting to believe that this was all normal while his former identity was slowly being pushed out of his head to be replaced by a new one. His intelligence dropped a fair margin in the process from the IQ of an intelligent young man to the level of a blissful jock. Not dumb per say but not as bright as he once was either.

Despite everything he still found himself insanely turned on by his reflection even if the reasoning for it was becoming blurrier and blurrier with every passing moment. He gripped his thick black member with a dumb grin, loving how it filled his large hand before pumping it slowly. For some reason it felt way more sensitive than usual. Generally his cock was quite active but this was something different. It almost felt like it was begging him to cum. But he had to savour it just a tad bit longer. It felt far too amazing to rush.

He managed to keep a smooth rhythm with his stroking as he continued to explore his buff body for some obscure reason. As he did, a lot of his former smarts were replaced with a bunch of gym, workout and healthy eating knowledge. All of which was necessary to maintain a huge physique like his. He was definitely gonna need it. After all how else was he gonna be an online coach if he didn’t know all the tips, tricks and secrets to getting swole as fuck!

- Mental Transfer… 80% -

As his free hand wandered around the muscular crevices of his body, it eventually found its way to his back side. At first he was simply grabbing and kneading his cheeks which he didn’t think too much of at first. Just enjoying the feeling until he tried to slip a finger towards his hole. The moment said finger grazed that tight puckered hole however, his eyes snapped open. “The fuck am I doing!?” He questioned out loud as he drew his hand away from his ass. He wasn’t sure why the hell he’d been doing that. After all he’d never been into ass stuff before. Not to mention his asshole is clamped shut anyway. No way anything was getting up there anytime soon. Instead he just tried to shake off the weird experience and focus on jerking off instead.

“Fuuuuck bro! Why am I so horny today!?” Chet moaned as his cock began spluttering pre-cum relentlessly, getting his hand wet and sticky. “I need a hookup or something. Haven’t been with a girl in weeks…” he droned off mindlessly, not even realising the problem with what he’d just said. Yet despite everything it was still his thick muscular body that was the main attraction of his sexual desire right now.

- Mental Transfer… 90% -

Chet began stroking faster as he bounced his pecs again in the mirror, his own body seeming so hypnotising for some reason. It baffled him as he’d never felt this way about himself before but he didn’t bother questioning it. How could he when he could already feel his fat bull balls starting to churn. They were getting ready to shoot while his cock grew more and more sensitive by the second. All of his senses were being overloaded as a thick haze settled over his mind. And soon enough that pleasure began to peak…

Chet couldn’t stop himself from flexing almost every muscle in his body involuntarily as his balls squeezed, sending a fat load up towards his cock until… “FUUUUUUuuuuuccckkkkk…” Chet moaned heartily as his massive dick shot rope after rope of hot thick jock nut all over the mirror like an erupting volcano. Shooting more cum than he ever had in his life while giving the reflective glass a sticky coating of delicious man milk.

- Mental Transfer… 98%… Error Error… -

The pop up screen on his phone began to flash with a warning as the meter seemed to get stuck on 98%.. The Error message continued to flash for a few seconds before the screen changed again, jumping directly to a new screen without having shown the 100% at all.

- Congratulations! You have assumed the Mental and Physical identity of “Ched Uzor”! It would seem our work here is complete! Enjoy the rest of your day. -

The strange pop up claimed proudly before disappearing without a trace. The phone returned to Ched’s Instagram, only now it seemed to be logged in as the user of the account.

Back over at the mirror Ched grabbed his head in confusion. That was one of the biggest nuts of his life so he couldn’t figure out for the life of him why he’d done it to his own reflection instead of to a hot babe like usual. But even more importantly where the hell was he? This definitely wasn’t his house and those ripped clothes on the floor certainly didn’t belong to him. He closed his eyes and racked his brain for a moment, trying to figure everything out until it finally hit him. He was on vacation to America right now and he’d hired this dude to look after his place back in the UK. The dude’s name was Nat if he remembered correctly. He took a breather as things finally started to fall into place.

And so, with his cock turning flaccid once again, Ched grabbed some tissues and started to clean up the huge mess he’d made. After all, the people he was renting this place from wouldn’t be happy if he left their mirror with a huge cumstain on it. Once that was done he’d better find himself some clothes to put on so he can enjoy the rest of his evening and take plenty of pics for his Instagram. He knew how thirsty some of his followers were and they were always eager to get another glimpse at his incredible body. Not that he could blame them.

———

- 4 Months Later -

Ched had long since returned home to the UK. That Nat guy had done a good job looking after his house while he was gone, the place looked spotless! Though he could swear there was something eerily familiar about Nat that he just couldn’t place. He couldn’t really put it into words. It was almost like nagging in the back of your mind when you’ve forgotten something but can’t remember what. Regardless he thanked the smaller man before giving him the second half of his payment and sending him on his way.

Since then things had been normal for the most part. Making inspirational posts on Instagram about exercising and getting into shape as well as just having an excuse to show off a bit. Naturally he spent plenty of time in the gym as always and was hard at work coaching his online clients as a personal trainer. But there were a couple weird things he’d noticed recently…

For example he still hadn’t gotten over this weird fascination with his own body he’d developed lately. Every time he looked at his reflection he found his cock chubbing up for some reason and he had no idea why. Plus the amount of times he would end up groping his own muscles while jerking off. He’d never done that before but now he couldn’t help it. But don’t get him wrong though, Ched isn’t gay. He’s been hooking up with plenty of women as of late and had no problem getting it up when they pull their tits out for him. If anything he’d say he’s been fucking more pussy recently than usual. Getting into bed with hot chicks left and right to fuck their bimbo brains out… but that could be partially due to him compensating for another new desire.

You see along with his self infatuation, over these past few months Ched had also caught himself glancing at other men. Not just in an admiring kind of way either. Like he was properly eyeing them up. His gaze was constantly being drawn to their asses and bulges. It was madness! He’d never been into dudes before so why were these feelings suddenly surfacing now!?

Recently there’d been this new guy at the gym that’d he’d been speaking to. Brandon was his name. Massive dude, about the same size as Ched himself. And just like with many other guys, Ched hadn’t been able to stop himself from checking out Brandon’s huge body. Only difference being that he could swear he caught Brandon checking him out as well…

Surely he couldn’t be gay because he did genuinely love women as well. So maybe he was Bi? If that was the case, how he managed to go all these years and not realise until now was beyond him. Well perhaps if this Brandon dude really was interested he could give it a go and ask him out or hook up maybe?… see what happens?

Little did Ched know that this was actually due to the error during his Mental Transfer. It seemed a tiny percentage of Nat remained inside him and vice versa for the new Nat as well. It was that tiny part of himself that was obsessed with his body and the part that still had an interest in men. But of course he’d never know that because as far he knows, Nat is just the guy that looked after his house for a couple weeks. He of course was the hunky Instagram model and online coach Ched Uzor! Only now he was a little gayer than before. And you know what? He was okay with that.

[alanisstonedd]

construction!ony...

... who you hire to redo your first big girl purchase. girl you a whole a homeowner!! sure, it was a fixer upper but it was PERFECT. the space, the location, the potential, the price?? - you had to. you called up the first construction service in the area with the best & most reviews, asking if someone could come by for a quote for... the whole house..

... who comes by about a week later after a short phone call with you asking when you would be free. you clocked he sounded fine from the two seconds on phone but what you were NOT expecting was the physical. he shows up cargo pants equipped will full tool belt, work boots, tighttttt white tee, tattoos everywhere like a masterpiece… a few gold teeth complementing his gorgeous pearly whites.. you bout have a heart attack at the door

... who can’t stop grinning, like hes already knowin you bout to be a problem. who’s even more excited once he finishes the walk through & quote, because although he can easily fulfill all your needs - for the house of course - this is gonna be a lengthyyyyy project. i mean he has to demo the whole thing first bcs the house is not exactly in amazing shape, then some restructuring and electrical, probably some plumbing. THEN interior and exterior design and aesthetics. but standing in the doorway you already know you don't care how long the project is - you dont even want him to go home when hes done today

... who pretends to be super focused on the quote but spends most of the time peeking at you out of the corner of his eye, imagining you complete bare.. and possibly oiled up.. even he'll admit he got a lil carried away. he assures you that him and his guys will be by very soon to get started on demo, casually asking for your number as he's leaving - just to coordinate ofc courseeee! since you'll be staying with your bestie while the house is getting done. you temporarily get arthritis while attempting to put your number in his phone but hes to busy staring at the way you anxiously nibble at your soft, juicy lips, your tongue peeking out to keep them from drying up. hes only snapped out of his trance when you awkardly shove his phone back at him with a soft chuckle, a wave, and a "see you soon!"

... who can't help but smirk when you start coming by while him & his team are working. claiming you want to "check up on progress" but its literally day two?? he alreadyyy knowin you just want to check HIM out. you wander off ever now and again, admiring your house but you always seem to pop back up when hes locked in, muscles bulging, skin coated with a sheen of sweat making his chocolate skin look literally edible, ripping down drywall or cabinets, hammering, drilling, stripping... like you're actively wishing he would do to you. "you gon keep eye-fuckin' me or you gon help, ma?" he grunts out, turning to look you up and down with a lick of his lips. you suck your teeth and say sum smart back to compensate for the fact that your face is hot and your panties are already sticking to you

... who teases you RELENTLESSLY - you dont even know why you keep stopping by (yes you do, he fine as hell and sweaty). but once you're there its like you can't leave, its the only time you get to see him! and it is your house after all... but you don't know how much more of this you can take. ofc hes physically respectful, ever the gentleman as he was raised to be, but his mouth is NASSSTTTYYY girl. and with his proclivity for deep, intense eye contact, you're going through panties quicker than you ever have.

“you know... i meant to thank you ma. you got all the guys puttin they back in it when you come around. lil’ motivation walkin’ in here wit’ allat ass i guess.”

“bet you like watchin’ me work, huh? that why you always here? i got u feelin a way baby?” you sputter out some response, too hot to think of something coherent, eventually running out of reasons to show up. so you start bringing them lunch! ofc duh, i mean they're working so hard, the least you could do is bring them some hoagies and beers. but it just makes his shameless eye fucking and dirty comments worse. i mean you're not any better, always letting a little "mmm" slip when hes working real hard, flexing and shit. and he catches that shit every time! turning to you with a smirk

"been watchin’ you all day, tryna be good… but you just had to come over here with that, didn’t you?"

“you keep bringin’ us lunch, gon’ make me think you tryna take care of me or sum.”

“I’m just being nice, ony.”

“mmm, yeah? im tryna be real nice to you too, mama.”

©  alanisstonedd 2025 — do not steal, plagiarize, or modify my content.

hope y'all liked this! likes, reblogs and all the rest are much appreciated!!!

xoxo, lana 💋💋💋

[kaz-dekadent]

the mind reader

s2 viktor x gn!amab!reader

cw: dom!reader, sub!viktor (but also dom! if you squint), viktor has a hexpussy with weird anatomy, bratty viktor at the end, herald viktor, mind reading, finger sucking, cockwarming, fingering, pussy juice eating size difference (tall reader), mention of cock augmentation, mention of humping, mention of handcuffs, french kissing, lap sitting, public (kind of), manhandling, use of y/n

summary: the mind reading herald of the commune, that you're a member of, makes your thoughts about him come true

note: this fic may be weird so be warned, also english is not my first language !!

part 2 part 3

The pristine air of the commune was slowly cooling down.

As you finished weeding the beds of your berry bushes, you sat on the short, brick wall and started fidgeting with a rake. You took a look at the area filled with sand, hemispherical buildings and yellow flowers. The wind was blowing a song just for you. Between the blows you heard the graceful steps accompanied by a soft knocking of a staff. The Herald, or Viktor, as he let you call himself, was approaching.

"I see your plant is bearing fruit, Y/N," he praised you, his lithe, purple finger touching one of the juicy fruit of the same colour. He was leaning, sticking out his hips. Your gaze moved to the tiny waist of his, tied with golden belts.

If only you could touch these hips. If only he was sitting on your lap, as you hold them, your hand under his blanket cape...

You changed the train of your thought. Berries. Focus on the fucking berries.

Viktor looked at you with his lavender eyes, elegantly holding the staff. "You know I can read your mind, don't you?"

Time to leave this fucking commune and live on the streets. You almost stood up, feeling your cheeks burning, but he reached out his hand, sneering.

You sat down again.

The Herald took graceful steps towards you with a gentle smile. He sat on your lap, and you thought you were about to explode. He laughed softly. Reading your mind. He put his arms behind your neck, as if he knew it will make you short-circuit.

"You have no reason to be so embarrassed," Viktor said, looking up at you, his gaze piercing yours. "I can hear the thoughts of everyone in my commune. Every aspect of the human nature is ubiquitous to me, including this one. You're not the only one with such desires."

Nervously, you reached for Viktor's hip, pulling him closer. And just now, you noticed how small he was. As the god-like leader he seemed superior. When he healed your ills, you barely even noticed he was shorter than you, enamoured with his powers. But your hands covered his hips almost wholly, and would fit around his waist almost like a belt. And he was so light you barely felt the weight of his inhuman body.

You rushed your lips to his. The Herald parted his mouth. You kissed him, as the leader of the commune quietly moaned.

"I see you like it, my Herald."

Your lips sunken onto The Herald's pretty, nonhuman neck. You delighted in the chemical, fruit-like flavour of his hexcore skin, feeling his hands cradle your hair, as his head arched backwards. You moved one hand onto his tiny waist, one onto his exposed back. Your finger drew circles and hearts on his skin and the metal that braided it. You threw off your garden gloves. They were left to lie in the sand. You had more important things to do.

Viktor lifted up his cape, exposing the dark blue pelvis, and the glowing purple slit in between his thigh gap. As he was sitting on your one thigh, you parted his legs and slid your fingers inside. Your finger rubbed the cold, metal-like walls of his hole. With other hand, you held him by the waist. The Herald hummed discretely, with closed eyes and an undisturbed, peaceful smile. His hands rested on your shoulders, and as you slid your fingers deeper, his grip tightened. You put another finger in. The Herald squeezed his eyes. You parted your fingers like garden shears and his grip became almost painful. 

But he was so pretty, you didn't stop. The usually dignified gaze of the commune's leader became watercolour. His chapped lips parted, as he quietly and elegantly moaned. And he was so tiny. 

You felt the Herald's hole clenching on your fingers. He knew what you were up to. He was reading your mind.

Your hand left his hole, covered in, shining purple slick with a scent of fresh berries.

„Now taste it, my Herald. I’m sure your flavour is divine.”

“It definitively is.”

You put your fingers closer to his lips. He started by licking them with his metal cold tongue and an open mouth. Sticking it out – so long and silverly purple. Holding eye contact with you for the whole time. His mouth encircled your fingers. You held them still. The Herald closed his mouth and sucked quietly, with as soft smile on his face. For such a divine being, he was so obedient.

“Obedient, huh? I need you to know I am only choosing to obey you. Treat it as an honour, Y/N."

“So, obey, my Herald.”

Slowly, you unbuckled your pants, freeing your erection. Your hands gripped his hips, placing him on your length.

Viktor whimpered.

"What's wrong, my Herald?" you teased. "You were the one to make it so big."

"It won't fit."

"It will. Come here," you said, putting your hand on his chin, the other one on his hip. Your mouth touched his, then you gently nibbled his lower lip. You pushed him down your cock, at the same time sliding your lips into his mouth.

Dignity left the Herald’s expression completely, replacing itself with a filthy, filthy daze. His multicolour eyes slipped onto the back of his head. If only he wasn’t gagging on your tongue, he would let out the most indecent moan you could ever hear in your life.

Your tongue spiralled inside him; his throat felt like metal. His hole cooling you inside so bad you shivered. Its walls felt smooth like a metal surface.

Viktor moved inside you. You left his mouth, and as he sticked out his tongue, a string of saliva appeared between your tips. He moved again, and you grabbed his hips, holding him in place.

“No, my beautiful Herald,” you forbade him. “Stay still."

A bulge on his dark purple tummy reminded of your presence inside him. You used your honour of the commune leader’s obedience to you and left his hips. Your hands travelled from his waist, to his back, to shoulders, through neck into his soft, black hair.

The Herald was so pretty. Sitting on your cock, not moving at all, obediently denying himself pleasure. Hands laying still, one holding the other, both hanging down politely, tapping your lower stomach. Droopy eyes filled with so much desperation. He wanted to move so bad, but he was obedient. Dark brows rose, then falling with a scrunch. You caressed his long black hair, twirling the white highlights.

Oh, the things you wanted to do to him.

“Handcuffs?” The Herald read your mind. “Humping my blanket cape?” His hole clenched around you.

“Yes, my Herald.”

“Your thoughts are truly improper,” Viktor laughed softly. “Tell me, what will happen if I moved?”

What will happen if he moved?

“I will punish you.” You smirked at him. The Herald smirked back.

„A gag? Ma-magnets?” His expression shifted from tranquil pleasure to dread. But his leaking, clenching hole said otherwise. You caught him, as he almost fell of your lap.

 “You are truly reading my mind.”

The Herald moved back and forth on your cock, letting out sweet, elegant moans. His dripping hole made a sound of wetness.

You felt your expression turning stern. Viktor leaned towards you, cupping your face and making a kissy face. He left a quick kiss on your forehead.

So, you grabbed him by the waist and put him over your shoulder. His legs dangled before you, as you took him to the greenhouse.

[cheolieji]

Roomates - Choi Seungcheol

pairings: idol!scoups x idol!reader

reader has boobs and vag

warnings/genre: smut, mentions of alcohol, mentions of food!!, swearing, pet names, fluff

the sex part is lowkey short cause idk

fuck was said at least 1000 times😨

you are Svts 14th member and have been roommates with seungcheol for a few months now. Nothing has happened yet, but who knows what could happen when two people who like each other drinks together.

mdni!!

don't like, don't read

a/n note: this is my first time writing on tumblr and first time writing in a few years + english isn't my first language so if there's any grammar/any type of mistakes don't be shy to point it out :)

updated a/n: This was a draft from Oct, so, no, It's not my first time writing on tumblr (not anymore). i deleted the previous draft and rewrote the whole thing, lmaoo

my brain stopped working when it went down to the actual smut omg

wanted it to be longer but im lazy

after a long day of shooting content, you and the members were exhausted. some went home, while some went out to eat, but you decided going home was the best idea. and so did seungcheol. and of course, you're going home with him, i mean, who else? you literally live with him

you two were approaching his car as he sped up a little to open the car door for you. You find his speed walking cute. "Thank you! Cheol, " "Of course, go ahead, watch your head"

as he's getting the car started, you asked, "cheol, do you wanna get something to eat before we go home? and maybe some drinks, too?" "Yeah, why not, we haven't drank together in a while, " says as he's putting his seatbelt on

after he bought the food and drinks (he went in to buy them while you were waiting in the car) you arrived home

taking your jackets off and hanging it on the rack, you sighed. "It's been such a long day, ughh i need a drink." "go wash your makeup off. I'll get the table ready.." "fineee"

felling refreshed, you went to help him set the table up. "we bought a lot of food, are we gonna finish it?" "i will, " he says, giving you a goofy smile

after a few shots, you were already tipsy. seungcheol is still completely fine. He's just admiring how you look while you're drunk

cheeks flushed, lips wet from the drink, and those eyes you give him.

"Why're you looking at me like that?" "No reason im just admiring your face." "Why admire from afar when you can come here? " you said, completely aware of what you're saying

"You come here." You walked over to him both hand on his shoulder while straddling his lap. he has his hands on your ass. "So? are you admiring me better now that im this close?" "So much better, babe"

leaning down to kiss him. it starts slow. Now he has his tongue down your throat with his hands roaming your body. and you're literally grinding on him. breathless, you let out a small moan. that led him to his edge. he picks you up while still kissing the hell out of you, walking to his room and almost tripping over a bag. putting you on the bed as he strips down, leaving his boxers on. you barely had anything on, so you just took your tank top and shorts off

you can see how big he is, even with his boxers on

he goes in for another rough kiss before putting his finger on the wet patch on your panties, sliding it off you. his big and long fingers doing circles on your clit "fuckk-" he pushes them in slowly before pumping your wet juicy cunt, it's so quiet the only thing that can be heard is your moans and the sound of your pussy. it's like music to his ears

"fuck me cheol.." "beg for it" as he's going faster with his hands "fuck.. ahh please–fuck me baby i need you so bad" he stops in his track, licking your juices off his fingers "shit babe you taste so good"

taking his boxers off and pushing your legs back to your chest. fuck his dick is big. "Can i put it in, baby?" "fuck yeah, just do it already please" he enters slowly "fuuck, you're so tight" resting a bit before moving, low grunts can be heard from him

"shit-ahh harder." he goes harder, balls slapping against your pussy "fuck you're so big" hearing that made his ego rise a little, he grabs your legs as he goes harder and faster than before "fuckkk ahh yeaaa" in overwhelming pleasure you scratched his back without realising "shit im sorry" "no, keep going" kissing you roughly before moving to your neck giving you hickeys

"Ah, 'm gonna cum-" "Yeah? cum for me baby" getting sloppy with each thrust. reaching your high he continues fucking into you for a little bit more before plopping next to you and kissing you on the cheek

he moved to cuddle you as if he didn't just ruin your insides a second ago, "you okay, babe? need anything? water? snacks?" "im okay baby, maybe later, " you said, hugging him in your arms

this is lowkey bad but who gives a fuck i don't get paid lmao

[whowrotethenote]

Warnings // Angst // Grief // Profanity // Talk of death and murder

Word count // 7.8k

Disclaimer // The Tribal Killer Masterlist // Chapter One // Roman Reigns Masterlist // Main Masterlist //Join My Taglist

The atmosphere in the dimly lit cigar lounge was nothing if not grown and sexy. Seductive and luxuriate. The exact space where surgeons, finance guys, CEOs and anyone else who wore designer suits to work—ironed to a trace of no flaws—went to bide their unwinding after a stressful day.

The usuals scattered about. At the bar, seated in the booths or standing at the high tables that were dressed in pristine white cloths vacant of any stain or wrinkle. White collar hustlers and whoever they report to. Men and women in pantsuits of all colors. Black, brown, blue, grey—and sleek as all hell despite the wear and tear that comes with working enduring hours in the city. Suit jackets most likely hanging off the back of their chairs or left in the car altogether. Dress shirts unbuttoned and ties loosened. 

Cathedral-like ceiling with nostalgic decor and timeless paintings splattered on the walls. The buzz of enlightening chatter and glasses clinking on the bar top, being dished out in almost a robotic fashion—all leveled out by the live jazz band. That earthy and almost leather scent of Mayan Cigars, mixed with the cologne and perfume you could only find in stores where the workers get paid on commission. 

In a less than quiet corner of it all, sat two young women. Breaking through to their late twenties, and trying to navigate in a world where the odds were stacked against them. They clinked wine glasses for the third time that evening, drawing attention from nearby patrons. A bustling force they were. They could have been as quiet as church mouses, and still would’ve captivated the attention of the room. Young, vivacious, and hungry as hell in spirit.

A single lamp and two lit candles set up on the table before them, illuminated their exotic beauty. 

“So,” Naomi started. Cheeks burning with anticipation as she set the wine glass down. “I met another guy.”

She had been waiting all week for this. It’s tradition. Every Friday night, they’d meet. Same spot—same time if their schedules allowed it. 

Their worlds collided in law school just five years prior. Both interpreting the world through roseate eyes, despite being two women of color sneaking through the backdoors of a predominantly white-male dominated field. 

They yearned for the same things out of this little life. Access, a bank account that was never in short of commas, and to earn a name for themselves that would supersede the surnames of their fathers. Two paths that outside of law school, would’ve never intercepted one another in the way it did—despite them growing up just two hours from each other. Naomi pushed to the outskirts, due to her heritage—loved to hear the recounts of how Juno grew up. In the big and kinetic city of Detroit. But as of late their roles had changed. It was now Juno who became the listener. She marveled at the endless tales Naomi would relay to her about the men she intertwined herself with—for almost every reason outside of love. 

Juno’s eyebrows rose to her hairline. She should’ve been used to this by now. It's not an abnormal confession coming from the lips of Naomi. In fact, it's usually the ritual that comes before the night takes that juicy turn. Right after the routinely and courtesy, how have you beens—what’s new at work—or how’s your family questions. 

Every man that tangled themselves within her web was different from the last with only one shared trait amongst them. Wealth. 

“Another one? I thought we were happy with the law guy?”

Naomi waved a French manicured hand. “Oh, he’ll be fine. He won’t even notice if he shares me. Believe me, he has more than enough on his plate.”

“So what does this one do? Or should I say which skyscraper does he work in?”

They never addressed her collection of men by name. Always by occupation instead. Mostly because the bulk of them were either unhappily married or just too high-risk for Naomi to proudly attach herself to. Controversial and problematic politicians. High ranking officials who over the years earned themselves a significant amount of enemies. Men seeking out the company of a young beautiful woman who didn’t mind cutting ties at any given moment. Naomi was a middle-aged man’s dream.

She grabbed her friend’s hand after another sip of wine. “That’s the thing, friend. There is no skyscraper.”

Juno’s perfectly lined eyebrows shot to her hairline. “Excuse me?”

Naomi nodded with a cheeky grin. “That’s right. This one is…different. Definitely not my usual type.” She quickly surveyed the room. The band and consistent chatter concealed anything being transpired between the two, but still a girl could never be too careful. So, she leaned in closer. “He’s a truck driver.”

“A truck driver.” She repeated the words back to her in a flat tone, waiting for her to reveal it was a joke, but all she got back was that equally wicked and innocent grin only Naomi could give. “And where the hell did you two cross paths?” 

“He was bringing in supplies and stuff for the office.”

Juno entertained the idea, but she knew her friend. She was into prominent men. Men whose last names held weight. Men who could get her to where she dreamed of ending up. Normal guys—normal anything wasn’t Naomi’s taste. It just wasn’t in character. Whatever spell the ordinary truck diver had enchanted her with, would be gone in a matter of time. A few more good quick fucks and she knew it’d be back to regular programming. 

Judgement wasn’t a factor within this friendship. Understanding took its place. As a black woman, Juno recognized the struggle of having to break down doors that were locked and always being looked at as if she didn’t belong. Naomi being a Native and growing up on the Isabella Reservation, these same adversities had attached themselves to her life. It seems the rest of the world got away with mediocracy, while they had to be exceptional just to be considered. The game was rigged. So, if her friend had to cut corners and break rules, then so be it. She was standing ten toes behind her. 

“When I saw him,” she continued, “I couldn’t take my fucking eyes off of him.” Her big lakes of brown seemed to grow wider as she relived the first moments of seeing him. “I could see his back muscles through his shirt. Ju his arms—oh my god, you would’ve melted. He looks like one of those fallen Demigods kicked out of Olympus or something. The literal definition of tall, dark and handsome.”

“He sounds like a literal character. You sure you didn’t imagine him?”

“I thought I was imagining him. Until he caught me staring and said something to me.”

“What did he say?” Juno teased in a hushed tone.

“‘You must like what you see, sweet butt.’”

“Ugh!” Juno recoiled earning a hearty laugh from her friend. “Fantasy over. Fucking forget it.”

“I know—I know. But trust me—I couldn’t even focus on what was coming out of his mouth. I was too busy picturing him naked. And his eyes—oh, his eyes, Ju. There’s something very dark and dangerous about them, yet so innocent and luring. I don’t think I ever saw a more beautiful man up close like that.”

“He’s from the Reservation?”

She shook her head. “He lived there for a while he said, but he was born not too far from you.”

“Miss Nodin, are you dipping into chocolate again?”

A red hue casted over her small face. “No, he’s not black,” she confirmed. “I’m not sure what he is actually. Maybe from the islands? He has tribal tattoos. He’s older too.”

“Of course. How much older?”

“Late thirties,” she answered. Juno bore a hole into the side of her face. She was going to make her ask.

“I know you hit already.” Naomi failed miserably at trying to conceal the grin with another sip of wine. “On a scale of one to ten?” She pressed.

“…Fifty. The scale has been broken.” 

“God bless you—and the truck driver.” 

“It was weird though.” Naomi’s energy shifted from her natural ray of sunshine to something else, as she picked at the left over Caesar salad on her plate. “He wouldn’t let me touch him.” Juno’s eyebrows turned down. “He tied my hands up. At first, I thought it was just this kinky thing. BDSM and all that. But then after when he untied me, I tried to touch him and he almost lost his shit.” Juno’s face cinched as she listened intently. Naomi shook her head and waved. “I don’t know. Men are weird.”

“That they are. Remember Reese?” Both women burst into a fit of laughter. 

“Yes! How could I forget? Neat Freak Reese. He used to make me shower before and after.”

“I told you your labia was going to fall off from all that damn scrubbing.” They leaned in closer, releasing the last of their giggles. 

“Oh god,” she expressed. She grabbed the wine glass once more—the corners of her lips lifted like her spirit as she eyed her friend. 

“What?” Juno battled a smile of her own.

Naomi shook her head. “Nothing. I just love you. That’s all,” she confessed at a whisper. Even though it wasn’t a secret. She just had grown so enamored with their bond in that moment. She hadn’t felt her best that week. Work was—well work. And she was having the normal battle with her mother that all girls do at that age eventually. When are you going to settle down and get married? Jumped with all these questions surrounding her future. Naomi had no longing in her heart to start a family. She had trouble most days just getting out of bed and doing for herself. A silent battle she kept hidden. To everyone else, she was the ray of sunshine tasked with lighting the entirety of Michigan up. She couldn’t fathom the burden of having to get up everyday and cater to children and a man she vowed to love forever. It was too far fetched. 

She thought most of her adulthood that something might’ve been wrong with her. Why was she always running into so many more hurdles unlike her peers who seemed to be gliding through life? Why didn’t she dream of the perfect white dress and walking down the aisle to the man she couldn’t live without? Why didn’t she daydream of what her face might look like on a little girl? Maybe she just wasn’t made right. She chalked it up to her wires just getting crossed during childbirth. That was until she met Juno. The other half of her.

She had everything she wanted right at that table. A girl who understood her—seen her. To be seen and understood is to be loved. She didn’t need nor want for anything else except that which she already found in Juno. Men were just these beings to have fun with and satisfy her sexually and financially. 

They clinked glasses for the fourth time that evening. Hearts full and worries emptied for the time being.

“I love you too.”

Juno wiped the hot tear like it was made of acid and burned her cheek. And she was burning up—inside. Her soul. Her conscience. She felt responsible. She knew the lifestyle that Naomi carried on with and she knew it would inevitably catch up with her. She just figured she had more time. More time to convince her that there might be another way—a safer solution to all of her problems. 

And now she was dead. Memories. That’s all Juno had to show for the near five year friendship she shared with one of the most exhilarating human beings she had ever met. Her smile could’ve brought life back into a funeral home. Whoever sought out to end it was nothing short of pure evil. And Juno felt in her soul that she wouldn’t know rest until she sought him out. 

That memory alone was enough fuel to light her fire back up. She had been sitting unmoved like she was paralyzed for nearly thirty minutes inside the parking garage of the Oakland County  Prosecuting Attorney’s office. Engine still running in her Honda Accord coupe—trying to build up enough something to just go in. 

Memories of the two of them—full and making something out of nothing. Laughing until their stomachs ached and reaping the benefits of their hard work in spaces others didn’t think they belonged—was like the electric shock of a defibrillator. She was doing this. 

She hastily pulled the mirror down to clean up any mess she had made from crying tears she hadn’t meant to. Nothing Nars concealer couldn’t hide. She slammed it shut, grabbed her LV Neverfull and the car door slammed not long after. 

Head held high to the sky—she implanted Naomi’s boisterous laugh in her membrane the whole way through the lobby—past the older receptionist that usually greets her with the warmest smile and ‘good morning,’ whose head was bowed down today instead. Heels clicking on the marble floors in pursuit of the double elevator doors. The whole way up she pictured her friend lying on the floor of her home—lifeless under the hands of someone she trusted. Not even knowing that day was going to be her last.

And when the ding of the steel doors sounded and they separated—it was Naomi’s voice whispering ‘I love you,’ that pushed her to keep walking. In the buzzing hallway—despite it being seven in the morning—amidst the ringing phones, people moving about with coffee and paperwork—it was the crime scene photo of all those poor young women that shielded her from the nasty and apprehensive stares. The chatter. People she used to go out for drinks with after a long night in the office, covering their mouths with a stack of papers to talk to another colleague, as if the papers and shifty eyes were any less indication that she was the topic of conversation. 

In her own office, she rested the left over empty box on the desk, amongst the overflowing ones she had started to fill some days ago when she came in for her exit interview. She packed everything up mostly that day. All she had left was to clear the glass desk full of ornaments that gave insight to who Juno was as a person—not just as an attorney. The framed graduation picture. She stood all smiles, cap and gown, with the mock degree in hand—in between her mother and father. Her older sister beside their father with her oldest niece on her hip—pacifier stuffed in her mouth. 

The sun shone down on them that day. One of the most memorable days of her life. Everyone in the picture had cried at least once that day—even her hard ass of a mother. Tears for Juno and all her hard work and how much further she vowed to go. Graduating from Howard wasn’t the finish line. It was the starting point to a new race. 

She wondered what everyone in the picture would think of her now. Would they still be proud of her? Would they support her? Would they think she was making the worst decision of her life? Would they disown her? Doubt and the cousin of fear crept into her mind everyday since she went in to interview Roman and came out as his defense attorney. None of it had hit any of the news outlets yet, but she knew it was only a matter of time. 

Especially now—after today, as she came to collect her things and move out of her office. This made it official. The exit interview and the resignation letter was one thing. Blanch had kept making it a point to remind her that it wasn’t too late to change her mind with every day that passed her by. The offer more daunting and threatening than it was comforting. But she was determined. Some called it stubbornness. Since she was younger that same bug had affected her. People doubting her and already counting her out since she was a girl. It was all the push she needed to keep going. Even if in the middle of her persistence, she realized that she may have went the wrong way, it didn’t enable her to turn back. She just couldn’t. Ten toes down was the mantra she lived by. 

She laid the frame face down at the bottom of the last empty box, not entirely sure where the picture would end up now. She wouldn’t be strong enough to look at their proud smiles until she was able to bear fruit of this drastic change and present it to everyone who had a helping hand in getting her this far. 

The elaborate holder of pens, pencils, highlighters and sticky notes came next. With every little movement she could feel their eyes on her. All sides of the office were glass. A change that came with Blanch’s reelection some years ago. Transparency was his motive—and transparent she definitely felt.

Three knocks had her lifting her head up from the tedious task of packing. In the doorway stood the man she came into this office with. They had been hired within two weeks of one another. Completed basic training together. Partied together—shared war stories from law school and failed in this very office together—while also learning from said failures together. Her colleague and who she would like to consider a friend—but she knew that ship was sinking considering the circumstances. Myles Baldwin.

“Baldwin,” is all she said after a beat. Continuing her pursuit of packing after dismissing the pity on his face. The nasty stares she could manage, but pity? No—she despised it.

“Accardi,” he greeted back. “He wants to speak with you before you go,” he informed. 

“Of course he does.” She tucked her bone straight hair being her ears, scanning the room for any strays of her belongings, until she felt his presence growing closer. 

“Don’t.”  She didn’t even spare him a glance. She knew him all too well. 

“How long, Ju?”

Her arms lowered slackly at her sides, dreading eye contact. “How long what?”

“How long have you been cooking this up?” He spoke in a hushed tone. Eyes weren’t just everywhere. There were ears too. “I know you.” His light eyes accentuated under the bright lights of her old office mixing with the natural daylight from the window—pierced her in a way she had grown immune to. “You are not a spur of the moment girl. You think about everything before you do it.”

It's not that she felt compelled to explain herself to anyone—especially no one inside these walls. She was now the enemy. But her and Myles shared a bond that transcended work hours. She felt a sense of loyalty that she only hoped he did too. 

Rubbing her forehead she breathed deep. “I knew Naomi…she was my friend,” she confessed. 

“Wait.” He stepped closer, closing the space between them and shielding her from anyone who was watching. “Naomi? As in Naomi Nodin? The latest victim?”

She nodded. “We went to law school together. We took two different paths afterwards, but still friends nonetheless.”

“Holy shit, Ju.” The wall of apprehension he had built before speaking to her was now decimated. 

“This is personal,” she continued with a hardened jaw. “Blanch is ready to close the whole thing because of one man that knew a couple of the victims. Yeah, he was fucking Naomi. Big whomp. And I get it. Roman Anoa’i is as sketchy as they come. He’s the perfect suspect. But that’s why I’m not convinced. It was too easy. I can feel it in my heart that he’s not our guy. And I won’t stand by and watch an innocent man be executed. I couldn’t help Naomi.” She swallowed the tingle threatening to restrain her words. “But that—that I can help.” 

The hand previously rested on his hips, extended outward to invite her small frame into his much larger one. No more words needed. So she accepted it. It felt like a sip of hot chocolate on a snowy day. The hug of a lover after a long stressful day at work. 

Their bodies conformed to one another. His woody cologne wrapping her the same way his muscular arms had. Juno didn’t want to let go, but the reality of it all hit her. Her eyes popped open as she peaked over to the right through the glass.

“They’re staring,” she mumbled into his arm.

“So, let them. I made it very clear last week that I won’t tolerate any Juno Accardi slander in this bitch.” He pulled back with two big hands still planted on her shoulders. “You’ve done too fucking much for this office. They all know it. Regardless of how they feel about this—they can’t deny that.” After his words settled in like lotion on the skin—Juno finally nodded and he mirrored it. “He’s in a meeting now. That’s why he sent me out here to get you.”

“I’m not even his employee anymore and I’m still waiting on him. Lovely.” For a white man, Hunter Blanch sure does run on CP time. Every department meeting delayed in anticipation of his arrival. Mornings where he’s jogging in an hour behind everyone else, tie not all the way done, with the Starbucks emblemed cup serving as evidence to his tardiness. 

Myles revealed his perfect smile, snickering. “Just consider it his final act of love.” In his stride to the door he looked back one final time. “Good luck, Juno.” He offered what he could now that  they were officially playing for opposite teams. A minute grin and words of encouragement even if they were in vain. Because he knew just like she did, that this was not the office anyone wanted to go up against.

Juno sat in the cold and sterile waiting area outside of Blanch’s office. The grandest and most intricate of the whole building. She could see him through the glass. Hands going, glasses on the brim of his nose as he spoke with whomever was on the HP monitor. 

His controversially young, Russian and very blonde, executive assistant sat behind her extensive desk—not offering any words to Juno since she sat down. It didn’t bother her. They never got along. It was no secret amongst the office that Hunter Blanch had a thing for young assistants and secretaries that his wife so redundantly made him switch out every few months. A pointless enforcement if he was going to hire a young and exotic one to his liking every time. Even if he didn’t do anything with them, everyone knew they at the very least, served as eye candy for him throughout his more than stressful workdays. It's cheating to some degree.

Juno didn’t get into anyone’s business in the office, but one too many sly remarks from the twenty-one year old new hire, implying that Juno had gotten her job from offering something to her boss, was enough to put a bad taste in her mouth about her. 

No one knew the real reason she was able to snag this job so swiftly, so fresh out of law school and even after her incinerating first trial as a defense attorney. That’s how she preferred it. That reason opened a completely different door of even more controversy.

The phone rang causing Juno to jolt a little in the quieter than usual enclosed space. 

“Yes…she is… okay.” She hung the phone up and continued her game of solitaire on the double monitors before her, that anyone watching would get tricked into thinking was actual hard labor. “He’s ready for you,” she announced. Not even sparing Juno a glance. 

Juno laughed to herself before rising up to enter the glass doors of his office, but not before stopping to give her one last piece of her mind. “If I were you babygirl, I’d take a break from the games and start building that LinkedIn profile.” She cheesed and held her Apple Watch up. “According to Mrs. Blanch—your time is almost up here. Looks like we are both out of a job.”

“Juno,” Blanch called out with more enthusiasm than what was necessary—considering the circumstances. Something of a smirk danced on his mouth as he relaxed in his desk chair. He held a hand out. “Please, have a seat,” he offered. 

She was temporarily distracted by the floor to ceiling windows behind him that gave view of the entire city. His office housed the best view in the building. Absolutely breathtaking. The exact motivation one would need to carry out the heavy burden of governing freedoms and juggling the lives of the innocent or guilty. 

Concrete jungle designed with skyscrapers full of Oakland County’s finest. The hub of the working class. Everything moving and functioning as intended—only it was Juno’s life that had taken a slight pause.

Easing into one of the two leather chairs stationed in front of his desk—something dawned on her. She had faced everyone today, except the giant she dreaded most. 

“Where’s Leah?”

“Well,” he started. A hand came up to relieve himself of the glasses he only used under his wife’s advisement or rather her enforcement. The name plate on his desk and on the outside of his door read Attorney General Hunter Blanch, but everyone knew who really ran shit. “She took the week off.” She nodded feeling the pang of guilt again, making her shift in the seat. 

In Juno’s entire time in the DA’s office, Leah Williams had only taken off for two occasions. A mandatory leave after her breast augmentation and her late father’s funeral. Now a third time presented itself. When the young girl she took under her wing betrayed her and made her to be a fool. “It seems your new ambitions has everyone on…edge.”

A deafening silence took over his spacious office. Horns from cars intermittently filling the void of their words but the silence was louder. Juno bowed her head to fool with her manicure. Lips twisted to one side as she thought of what she would say to Leah when she saw her again. She prayed it wasn’t in the courtroom. Leah Williams was the Chief Deputy Prosecutor for a reason. She was a beast in the courtroom. Only one loss in her current role under her belt. No one had slain the beast and lived to tell the story really. That’s what made Juno’s unforeseen move that much more agonizing. She was studying under Michigan’s finest. Anyone else would’ve quite literally killed to be in her shoes and she took them off with ease it seemed. God, she really hoped someone else was taking her place. Please, anyone but Leah.

“You really are sure about this?”

“I am.” She met his intense gaze once again.

“I hope so. Cause after today…” His shoulders went up and then down with raised brows. “I can’t extend any more olive branches.”

“You keep them for someone who actually needs them.” She sealed and signed her fate. 

Another long and uncomfortable silence crept into the room. Blanch squinted and rested an elbow on the armchair to smooth his growing dark beard. He analyzed Juno like he would a case study. She was exceptionally smart, ambitious and her curiosity was unyielding. She was always the one in meetings asking the questions no one else thought of. The cross her I’s and dot her T’s, no corrections needed, can recite the case front to back, kind of student. None of it meant anything in their world. 

“Do you remember what I told you on your first day?”

“You told me a lot that day.”

“Well, what stood out the most?” He quizzed. 

She thought long and hard abut her answer. It was no secret that Blanch was one of the most cutthroat  attorneys Michigan had ever seen. He—unlike most of his peers—had actually earned the title he claimed. He and Leah were like Shaq and Kobe. They obliterated their enemies and left no space for remorse. The verdict almost always in their favor. They dealt in facts and effortlessly swayed the jury. How many of those verdicts were in line with the truth? No one will ever really know. It’s irrelevant. 

“Sometimes the bad guys win.” He snickered and tucked his bottom lip in to control it. Only, Juno wasn’t amused. “Not what you had in mind, huh?”

He shook his head and leaned forward on the desk between them. “No—not at all.”

Her head tilted to one side. “So tell me, Blanch. What do you think the most important thing was that you told me that day?” She probed. Oh so ready to get the fuck up out of there. She was in enemy territory now. She could feel it. No matter how many olive branches he extended or deep chuckles that escaped his throat. They had different agendas now. One’s success meant the other’s failure. No way around it.

“Courtrooms don’t weigh morality. They balance reality.” The room grows colder. Goosebumps form on her smooth skin. His eyes, dark and enticing, are like pins—holding her in place. “What can be seen. What can be heard,” he continued. The pace and ease in which he was able to go from warm to ice cold was off putting. Made her second guess every smile he ever flashed her way. “Your soul has no place in the house of justice.”

Suddenly, Juno was uncomfortable. She thought ethics to be the foundation of law. She was wrong. 

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Her eyes bounced around the office, no longer able to play tennis. “Anything else?”

“Good luck, Juno.” While Myles’ words were encouraging with an undertone of grief for the brief moments they shared as colleagues—Blanch’s was sinister. He spoke like a man who had already seen the verdict. 

Leaving Juno is suspense of two things. If the bad guys would really win this time—or if all morality had been compromised in this office. 

Juno sat in the mess of all the new paperwork she had to obtain since transitioning from the prosecution to the defense. All case files had been returned to the Prosecuting Attorney’s office and in their place were the generic untouched ones. Files absent of her and her previous team’s notes. She was literally starting from scratch.

Pulled an all nighter to get everything somewhat organized to the way she had it before. If anyone walked in, they’d be floored at what she considered organized. Papers and files everywhere scattered about. On her coffee table, the couch, some on the island in her kitchen, and decorating the floor to the point where you could barely see the pebble-colored vinyl flooring. 

The first rays of morning—coral and apricot lines—danced over her apartment through her white sheer drapes. Reminding her of how sleep-deprived she really has been. It didn’t start with the switch up. It started the night her phone rang in the dead silence of one in the morning. Her apartment pitch black. Alarm set for four hours later, but the ringing shocked her awake before her time. It was Leah calling to inform her that they had another victim. Juno’s heart ached at the thought of this bastard taking the life of another woman. Her blood had ran cold when she received the address of the latest crime scene. A home she had been plenty of times before and didn’t need to utilize the GPS for. A home she had spent countless nights—cooking, drinking, playing cards, binge watching Law & Order, and gossiping about everything under the sun. 

Walking up to the house full of strangers—absent of the owner she knew and loved—flashing lights of blue and red dancing on the outside of the single floor cabin-like house and the pine trees surrounding it. Windows grand enough to see inside the residence. The burnt orange ceiling lights giving way to the interior—specifically the kitchen. Juno’s car door shut as her stomach went hallow. Lump in her throat, making it nearly a task to just breathe and swallow normally. The small rocks crackled under the weight of her Uggs as she put one foot in front of the other, through all the people crossing paths in front of her. Men and women in uniforms—all oblivious to the very discombobulated Juno. 

That’s when she saw her. Sprawled on the kitchen floor. Shiny, black tresses extended over her face. Stiff as a board. 

Her knees went weak as she barely made it back to her car and emptied out whatever was in her intestines and more. Bile, sweat and tears mixed as she hyperventilated on the side of her Honda. 

She stayed crouched over like that for too long. She had a job to do. Rearranging herself back to as normal as possible—she walked back up and inside the house on autopilot. Everyone speaking to her, asking her questions, and she could barely hear a thing. She avoided the corpse like it was a mini fire in the woods. 

Juno sniffed, shaking the worst memory she’s ever conjured back to its rightful place. Locked in a dungeon of her psyche. Her phone ringing aided in helping her brush it off.

“Hello—” She quickly cleared her throat to mask the cracking of it. “Hello?”

“Please tell me what they’re saying about you on the news isn’t true.” Her older sister tumbled through the speaker of her phone. Her and the rest of her full house already live and moving about. 

“Good morning to you too, Jamila.” 

“Juno, I’m serious—” A banging followed by a guttural cry. “Oh, fuck me.”

“What is going on over there?” Juno tried her best to suppress a laugh. Every time she spoke to her sister it sounded like she was the ringleader of a circus. It was safe to say her circus was running her this morning. 

“She fell off the bed. That’s her new thing. And we’re teething now.”

“That sounds fun.”

“The news, Ju? Please tell me they have the story wrong?” She pressed. 

“Well, what are they saying?” Juno only halfway listened as she thumbed through more files seated on the plush rug in her living area. Hair tied up in a loose bun and glasses constantly slipping to the end of her nose.

“You left the DA’s office?!” She sounded like she might burst into flames—or tears. Juno could never tell. “To defend that nigga that killed all those women? I don’t understand—I thought Naomi was one of the victims? Have you talked to Mommy? And what does Papa think? Didn’t he get you that job?”

Juno continued to read with her sister’s mild crash out as background noise. Jamila wasn’t just the ringleader in her own household. First born girl of her original family had made her the stick that kept everything and everyone around her in place. Her younger sister always serving as her toughest challenge. Juno didn’t follow rules that went against her own will. Stubborn little thing she was from birth. The two girls always clashing because of this. 

Petty fights over dolls and who got the last bit of cereal turned to arguments about who would get the car for the night or stolen clothes from either’s closet. All escalated to Jamila chastising her sister for not wanting to settle down or her dangerous career path. It wasn’t jealousy. Most people who didn’t know the girls personally would think so. Jamila settled for a quiet and simple (not so quiet and simple) life of marrying rich and defaulted to a stay at home mom. Four kids later she seemed to be working the same strenuous and chaotic hours Juno had. She couldn’t imagine doing any of it while trying to maneuver a career path. So she eased up on her little sister after growing up a little and realizing the necessity of choosing one or the other. In adulthood, a newfound respect for the newborn she remembered holding in the hospital with a toothless grin, ripened. 

So, yeah, it wasn’t jealousy. It was genuine concern rooted in unconditional love. Jamila loved the fuck out of her baby sister. Every time Juno didn’t answer the phone she thought of all the crime shows she watched while her kids were off to school—where the convicted yearned for payback from whoever was responsible for putting them away—and thought the worst. She was well aware that her sister’s career called for her to piss a lot of folks off, but she also knew her sister had a calling for justice. She was gifted. So, she let it be.

“It's still on. Turn on Fox.”

Juno reluctantly grabbed her remote. Fox being left over from the previous day and sure enough there she was. It was footage from the press conference held on the steps of the holding facility just a couple weeks before. Blanch gave his statement to all the microphones of the world while she and Leah stood on either side. 

“Former Assistant District Attorney, Juno Accardi has resigned in her role as the lead prosecutor in the state of Michigan vs Joe Anoa’i. Anoa’i has been the number one suspect in a nineteen count homicide and sexual assault case. He’s been in holding for the past month awaiting trial. Not only has Accardi resigned but she has taken on the role as Anoa’i’s defense attorney amidst her departure from the DA’s office…”

Juno watched, not even blinking as they zoomed in on her frame. The voice of the news reporter fading to black. Heart beating erratically. She knew it was coming. No amount of preparation could tranquilize this feeling. They switched abruptly to a more recent press conference. Blanch in the forefront as usual. Black hair sleek and luscious, dressed in an expensive designer suit—but, no Leah. She could tell from the background it was held on the steps of her former job. 

“We just want to assure Oakland County and Michigan as a whole, that the priority amidst the chaos— is and always will be, the pursuit of justice. We are confident that we have all we need to bring clarity and a peace of mind back to the victim’s families and the rest of the young women of Isabella. The recent loss of one of our own does not deter from that. If anything it’s given us the extra push we need to flush out anymore bad apples in preparation for trial…”

“Bastard.” She heard Jamila spit. “—No, Tootie! You don’t repeat mommy!”

The news woman carried on as a picture of Roman’s mugshot presented itself next to the footage of him being taken into the holding facility the day of his detaining. Cameras flashing, more than enough microphones shoved in his face as he tried his best to conceal himself with a broad shoulder amongst the swarm of reporters and belligerent patrons. SWAT team trying their best to keep everyone at bay and off the unsolicited superstar. 

His eyes—just as Naomi exemplified. Dark and dangerous, yet innocent and luring. Paradoxical. Nothing about this man made sense to Juno. The news broadcast rocked her. And for the first time since this whole thing—she questioned if she had made a mistake.

"Ma'am we ask that you stay at least six feet from the cage at all times. He shouldn’t be in the possession of any items, but in the unusual case that he—”

“Do you mind if we skip the formalities? I’m kind of on a time schedule here.” Juno fished a plastic smile for the guard ready to read the list of protocols off and bore her to death. She came here with a purpose and she had more than enough already stacked on her plate. 

The familiar shiver from the arctic atmosphere of the room they held the beast in, greeted her the minute she took her first step on the concrete. She found him the same way as last time. Hanging from the bars pulling himself up. Jumper hanging loosely above his hips. Hair clinging to his broad shoulders. Back muscles slick with sweat—waving at her.

Leaning all her weight on one foot and crossing her arms, she stood by as he finished his last set and released himself with a thunderous thud. His dark eyebrows knitted together and chest heaving as he turned to focus on her. 

“Juno.” The upper corner of his lip turned up as he tried to bring his breathing patterns back to normal. “So the rumors are true.”

“I’m a woman of my word.”

“I can see that.” His menacing eyes made a trail from the two open buttons of her black jumpsuit, down to her red bottoms. She cleared her throat. “So, what’s next?”

“Well, I’m working on getting you moved to a better facility. Something not as secluded and closer to the city.”

“And how long will that take?”

“I don't know. Could be weeks. A month.” She shrugged. “When I left the DA’s office, I left all my connections so—pushing paperwork is gonna be a bitch.”

“You did all that for me?” He got comfortable, leaning his back into the corner of the cage closest to her. All his attention on her. 

“I did it for me—following that voice in my head,” she confessed. The voice was Naomi’s, followed by a horrific montage of all those girls, pale-faced and bleeding out. “I did it for them—all those girls he murdered. And yeah—yeah, I guess I did it for you too.”

He used his long fingers to smooth the unkempt beard down. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell your secret. Lil’ Juno has a soft spot for Roman.”

Silence enveloped the two strangers whose lives were now inevitably entangled and dependent on one another. Juno was the first to break.

“Is there anything that I don’t already know, that I should?”

His lush bottom lip poked out. “Nope. You know as much as you should,” he lied. He bit his lip looking her up and down again. He was seeing her with a different pair of eyes. This wasn’t the same woman from weeks ago. That girl was timid. Unsure. This one housed fire and she was  a force. It turned him on as much as it intimidated him. He knew it wouldn’t be long before she could see through his cracks—his flaws that weren’t so obvious. “You and I have a long road ahead of us. We are going to have some fun, sweet butt.”

“I have two rules.”

“Lay it on me.”

“Never lie to me.” The first rule landed like wrecking ball. “The only way this works is if we have full transparency. Whatever I ask—I need an answer. None of that cat and mouse bullshit from the other day. We’re officially on the same team now,” she declared. “Doesn’t matter how big or small. Anything. It all means something. We have attorney client privilege. Anything you say has to stay between us. I can’t judge you for it.”

His head bowed as he pursed his lips. “Yeah as my attorney you can’t judge me. But as Juno? The person? You’ll definitely be judging…” There was weight in his words that made Juno’s heart feel heavy. “What was the second rule?” He requested, pulling her from whatever rabbit hole she was ready to go down. 

“Don’t ever call me sweet butt again.” The deep tenor of his laughter filled the vast room and she couldn’t help the grin that painted over her face.

But as it settled she slid off the temporary cloud and was faced with reality. The air around the two growing thick. He could sense it as he looked back in her direction. 

“Last chance,” she warned. Jaw tight. No more games. “Did you kill Naomi Nodin?” Her nose burned as she remembered her. Full of life and light. Reduced to a corpse. She had so much life left to live. So much more to offer this world. 

Roman’s perfect teeth sunk into his bottom lip as he regarded Juno. His emotional intelligence whispering to him that this was not the time for his smart ass remarks or deflective riddles. So he told her flat out, “no. No I didn’t.”

She nodded. Accepting it for what it was. She didn’t know why but she trusted that he was telling her the truth.

“Same time, same place tomorrow?” 

He nodded once. “I’m here all day and night.”

She turned to leave but halfway she’s halted in place due to her name being called. “Juno,” his baritone voice hurdles through like a boomerang. She turned. “Thank you.” He stared not blinking. The gratitude was intense. Still, Juno didn’t think of herself as deserving just yet. All she had done was follow her heart like she was taught. Selfishly, it had more to do with her and not him. 

“Don’t thank me yet.”

This is what her life had become. Unpredictable the sharp left turn it was, but it was now her new normal. She didn’t believe in coincidences. She believed she was exactly where she needed to be. A character in an already well written story. She didn’t believe in miracles. She knew in order to get to the other side she wouldn’t be unscathed, but she had to put the work in. The journey ahead was long just as Roman professed. It had twists, turns, boulders and barricades placed intentionally with thorns and potholes to add insult to injury. And as someone who was no stranger to grievance—it still strained her to think of. It was like locking the last piece of a Lego house just for someone to come and kick it down. Yeah, you can start from scratch and familiarity of the process once done, should make it easier—but easier is subjective. Especially when they’ll always be someone lying in wait to come kick the Lego house down again at any given moment.

She couldn’t save her friend. Naomi was dead. She wasn’t coming back. That much would haunt her until her mind was dust. But she could salvage one life and that was Roman’s. So she focused on what was possible to fix and buried—literally and figuratively—what wasn’t. 

A/N // If you read this or even a portion, I am extremely grateful. As always feedback is welcomed💗

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divider credit— i cannot for the life of me find where i got this damn banner from. if you recognize them, pls tag them. if its yours pls comment

[raileurta]

Been thinking about your unicron dad posts lately and this AU came to mind so I thought I’d share

Human!sparkeater AU

The spark is the only organic/ organic adjacent “organ” a cybertronian has

This would explain why life would pop up on earth, all of these organic lifeforms are offshoots of his spark.

This has been going on for so long that they don’t “take” any aspect of his spark anymore, they’ve completely separated by now

However, this means that organic life forms can eat a spark. Anything from a little ant to a human could hypothetically try to eat it

This would also tie into unicrons whole world eater thing as they would be able to incorporate cybertronians into the circle of life against their will

No clue how a spark would taste but honestly it’s hilarious to think that it’s somehow the most delicious and juicy thing known in the universe. Miko wouldn’t even bother trying to resist, but the other tfp humans would definitely have to hold back if they ever saw one unprotected for whatever reason

I could definitely see one of the autobots casually saying something like “haven’t seen (random decepticon) around for a while” as raph or someone would be trying their hardest to keep Miko quiet

I bet unicron would be so proud at creating a world of sparkeaters, he’d want to sic them on the universe so badly and has to deal with the autobots earning his little scraplets sympathy and unintentionally causing them to resist/ignore their whole sparkeating capabilities

Firstly, peak ask. 🙌 This is a really interesting idea.

Secondly, I like to imagine sparks are an essential part of terran’s diet or more specifically a human one. The reason they have such a short life span compared to their robot cousins is that humans die from a sort of spark deficiency. Like one might get sick or die if they didn't consume all the necessary nutrients. A Cybertronian spark is essentially for humans to thrive and for them to pupate into their true form.

Here's a rough sketch of what I imagine it looks like:

If any animal could eat a spark, picture a group of morally questionable transformers getting tons of hungry animals then just letting them run free in the Nemesis. The absolute carnage that would ensue would be legendary.

As for what a spark might taste like? Hmm it definitely would be very juicy. I imagine it has the consistency of something like hard ice cream with a semi-thick outer shell that's made of apples that's also somehow flaky. The taste would be ✨electric ✨ to say the least but also be sweet but not too sweet. Really thinking about it I can also see the core being thick and gooey.

Damn, I want to eat a spark now. 🤤

I feel like the first bot Miko would eat is Hardshell. There's not a lot of situations I can think of where Miko could reasonably get access to a spark before this. Plus it's just more dramatic.

After Miko had shot down Hardshell instead of dying he's just severely injured with his spark casing completely broken and the spark just out in the open. The girl flies over to (dinner) the insecticon, then gets out of the ship to finish the job. However, when she climbs up onto his chassis getting close to his spark she's hit with an overwhelming wave of HUNGER. Then poor Wheeljack has to watch on in abject terror as his pseudo-daughter eats a bot’s being alive right in front of him. Of course afterwards Miko evolves in an extremely bloody and gory way into her true form.

After experiencing the most traumatic event in his entire very long life and blowing up those insecticons he heads back to base where he has to awkwardly explain what had happened.

Or in a different scenario; Miko didn't evolve and just got a lot stronger. She needs to eat more sparks to truly evolve. Wheeljack doesn't say anything about this to the Autobots as he doesn't want anything bad to happen to Miko and he really doesn't want to cross her. Of course if I did some fanfic writing magic Miko could eat a spark before the end of season one so Unicron can praise Miko. That would be funny.

I can imagine he also has his own versions of primes; but instead of them being all serious and virtuous they're loud, chaotic, all over the place generally, and a bit of murder goblins.

Unicorn wants his little parasites to ravage the universe in their wake but they got bonked in the head with the morality stick. He would be sooooo pissed about this. So for now he will think of a plan to “fix’ this and encourage the resident insane girly to cause problems.

Beta read by @a-non-ymouswriter expect for the art text because I forgot.

[godhandler]

Cottagecore life with Sukuna, who’s already packing his bags out the suburbs as you paint a picture of blue-green countryside idyll amid the mountain grass carpet, warm hearthstone, and sweetfish fresh from the stream. 

“Pick your favourite.” He scoffs at your delighted face. He won’t show you how much time he spent planning the whole thing: a surprise trip to a sheep ranch. Your laugh warms a blush all through his tan skin. “We’ll take it with us.”

A quick peck of gratitude later, you spend your time examining through the bleating herd. Cloud-balls brush past your knees. You decide on a youngling: fat little candyfloss on stubbly legs, a few weeks old at best. You’re already planning on the barn you’ll make for him– watch him grow up into a spoilt old ram. 

Sukuna, hanging back against the fence, rustles your hair as you return with your baby in your arms.“Good choice, looks soft too.”

“He is!” You pet his little head as he nuzzles into your neck, already taking to you. “His name’s Yuuji, I’ve decided, it’s perfect for him!”

“I’m not gonna call the pest that.”

You two walk back to your car, strapping your new pet into the backseat the best you can. The journey back to your homestead is pretty short anyway. “You’ll start loving him in no time, I tell you. C’mon, just call him by his name once!”

………..

“You don’t like it, brat?” Sukuna is confused seeing the tears in your eyes. Is it the smoke from the sizzling dish? Or were you not feeling meat-ish today? The lamb has been roasted to perfection, he made sure of that, topped it with your favourite lemon-cilantro too! “I’m even calling it ‘Yuuji asado’ instead of ‘cordero asado’.” 

“My baby…” You reach out to touch his now-crispy skin. 

Sukuna’s a bit hurt– you didn’t even try it once before reacting like that. Sukuna might not be a very experienced cook, but he actually followed the recipe to a T, putting his heart and soul into the dish to make you happy. On top of that, you did pick the lamb out yourself, so there’s no reason for you to be so ungrateful. 

Still, he carves out a leg, pouring extra garlic oil onto your plate, and forks off a bit for you to taste. You don’t want to hurt his feelings. You take the bite he’s offering. 

Yuuji. You’re sobbing now. You’re heartbreakingly delicious.

“Do you … like it?” His first culinary attempt: He just wants you to appreciate his efforts. 

“It’s the best lamb ever, baby.”  It’s true. Well-marinated meat, so tender you could tear it with your lips. Juicy on the inside, the flavours seeping through and through. You can’t even pretend that you don’t want another bite. “Tears of happiness, don’t worry about it.”

“Damn right.” His smile is back to cocky again, having conquered the art of the kitchen. “Play nice and I’ll make it again for you next week.”

a/n: this happened to me. I was 7. dad's side of the family yk.

[chrisisvbun]

breasts. logan howlett x ftm!reader

n/a: so I really thought of this cus I'm trans and i have really big tits and even though when I started transitioning I hated them, now I accepted them and I don't hurt ny body anymore slay. trigger warning of a trans man loving and embracing his tits sorry.

synopsis: because you always wear binders, logan never saw your breasts before and didn't really care, until he ran into you in the training room.

cw: smut; touching breasts, desperate grinding, afab terms use, reader parts are called hole and breasts or tits. sweaty sex; praising; slight age gap; reader is smaller than logan; wide description of reader's tits; a bit of dysphoria and transphobia; logan being animalistic; bitting with blood, a lot; reader is a wolf mutant cus why not. Logan and reader are both switches.

words: 1.5k

Logan and you didn't talk that much, tho Logan would love to yapp about you for hours.

He would never admit the fat crush he has on you, is like everything you do is a reason for him to get excited and flustered.

It's not that you were oblivious, it's just that Logan wouldn't show that side of him to anyone. Not that he would kick his feet in bed, but he locks himself and covers his warm face in his palms until he calms down.

You were so goddamn handsome, you had beautiful hair, some juicy lips from where your adorable fangs would peek every time and a couple of eyes that made his knees shake every time you hold eye contact. God you were gorgeous.

He wanted more. He wanted to see more of you, to discover your body in his hands, he was just so desperate to have you. Like a starving puppy.

The fact that both of you were kinda animalistic should've make him get closer, tho he denied it, he couldn't, he couldn't get closer, if he did, he was gonna lose his mind the second he smelled that masculine cologne you wore for longer than two minutes.

That is until Scott, Ororo, and Jean left you two in the mansion for almost a week to go on one of those long missions. You weren't stuck with him because you had the kids and other friends, but the five of you were the ones who spent more time with each other.

Out of topic, Logan knew. Of course he did, you didn't hide it, you were proud about being trans, and you weren't afraid of saying you were. Also, you were kinda intimidating, those sharp fangs (he wanted you to bite him) and claws (he wanted you to scratch his back until bleeding) could scare anyone. But when you weren't in a feral, animalistic state, you looked like an adorable puppy, with big irises and pupils that shined every time you opened them. Thinking about it better, he had seen you more in your animalistic, feral state: your pupils getting thin, your claws getting sharper, your fangs getting longer and your hair standing on end, rather than you with... normal training clothes.

He doesn't care about your body features, he is just a naughty man that really wants to jerk off with a good image of your body.

Yeah, he is disgusting.

But he can help it, you are just so handsome in his eyes and not only he knows he could take good care of you, but also that you could be such a good man for him. His man.

Gosh he wants you. He wants you so bad. He definitely has a fat crush on you. And he is so normal about you by now that he wouldn't mind admitting it.

When Kurt told him you were training in the gym room, he didn't hesitate. He walks there, hoping to see your sweaty hair, breathing in pants, whining, and growling masculinity as you do push-ups.

But he didn't expect finding you like that.

You were punching a sack hanging in the air, the sack moving violently with every punch you gave to it. Yeah, you were growling and complaining, but he didn't expect to see you like that while the hair on your back was in sight, because you were wearing just a black sport top with your shorts and your red boxing gloves. He could see your biceps flinch and press with every hit, your hairy belly dripping sweat. Yeah. He definitely got hard by now.

You stopped and removed your gloves with your mouth. He began thinking that you knew what you were doing, teasing him, showing him how hot you knew you were, how good you could make him feel if he only had a chance.

His eyes moved down and, oh good god.

They were big. No, big is an understatement. Huge. Big breasts in your usually or unnoticeable chest. Big. Bet his hands wouldn't be able to fit them and oh did he want to find out. Bouncing. Up and down with your breath, sweating, it was an almost pornographic image. How did you managed to keep them hid this whole time?

" 's up, man?" You raised your hand to do a little handshake like you usually do with him (he manages to remember which hand touched you to then use it to jerk off).

"Hey..." He said, taking your hand, his eyes bluntly looking in his chest.

"My eyes are up here." You chuckled, your fangs peeking adorably.

How? How could you turn him on so bad and then look that cute?

"It's hard to not see." He almost sighs, like it was a hard job to stare at your breasts, what makes you laugh and makes him get even harder.

"Enjoying the view I assume." You crossed your arms under your breasts.

"Oh, you have no idea." He finally looks at you in the eye. "How did you—

"Make them unnoticeable? Baggy clothes and binders I guess, and at missions, I use a special suit that pressed them." You explain, sitting in the corner to clean your sweat a bit.

"I'm guessing you are cool about it." He says, leaning in the doorframe in front of you.

"Yeah, you could say so. I mean, I still hide them, so I guess I'm not that cool about it." You smiled, those adorable fangs showing again. "But I'm cool about showing them when it's necessary, I don't really mind. Also, they are a good sight, aren't they?"

"Oh yeah." He said without hesitation. "Great sight."

You chuckled again, and saw his hands tickling to touch, like it was a primal need, also that he was moving and accommodating himself in uncomfortableness. You stood up and got in front of him, grabbing his hands and putting them in your breasts. "What are y—"

"Maybe this could make you stay still and stop yapping about me all the time." You giggled, making him blush so freaking pathetically.

"How do you—"

"Know about it? I'm a wolf, pup, I hear you kicking your feet and jerk off all night." You laughed, but a hint of a blush got in your cheeks too. "I'm really flattered by that, really." You said gently.

His hands instinctively squeezed in your flesh, maybe wanting to hear you moan, but instead is he who moans at the feeling.

"Good?" You asked in a giggle. He nods desperately.

"Can I...?" He asked like you could know what he is talking about. Surprisingly, you do know.

"Yeah, pup, serve yourself." You gave him a sly smirk, lickings your own lips.

He moved his head down, sinking his nose in your sweaty breasts and ran his tongue through it, finally making you moan low. His hands gripped your flesh and he moved your top down to finally take the left one in his mouth, sucking it like he could gain any milk from them. He sucked your pink nipple like he was a hungry puppy, squeezing the other like he was giving him a notice in what was coming next for it.

"Gosh. Such a desperate little shit." You moan with a smile, pulling his hair out of your chest.

He was breathing in pants, his mouth half open and leaning down again to try grabbing your breast again, but you didn't allow it.

"Come on, pup, don't get all needy now, gotta save it for the big price." You moved your hands to his waist, pulling him closer with a smirk.

If you were trying to dominante him, you were being pretty successfull.

He grabbed your cheeks in his callous hands to flush you against him and kiss him hungrily, making you squeeze his waist even more. As the make out got hungrier and wilder, you pushed him against a wall with a growl and moved down to bite and suck in his neck.

"Bite harder, please." He begged, you huffed in his neck, almost a laugh.

You sank your fangs into his beautiful neck and sucked like a vampire, moaning at the feeling of your mouth full of his sweet blood. He hissed the second you sank your fangs, his hand gripped your head as he moaned louder than he would wanted to.

"God damn, bub..." He sighed of pleasure, looking how you took your teeth away.

You looked up at him, almost adorably and innocently, your fangs peeking on your bottom lip and your whole mouth and chin dripping his blood.

He pulled you in for a kiss again, now he was the one grabbing your waist and lifting you against the wall. You smiled in the kiss, almost making him go nuts as he grinded against you.

"God- you are- so- desperate, pup." You managed to say between his kisses and your gentle moans at the feeling of his bulge against your wet hole.

"Logan!" both of you heard Rouge's voice coming in. Logan quickly pulled away with his face red as a tomato and you with an animalistic grin. "Am I... interrupting?" She asked.

"Not at all." You said with a smile. "See you later, pup." You gave Logan a slight squeeze in his ass, which made him jump a bit in his place.

He was about to complain but you were already leaving, carrying your scent, taking it away from him.

But, oh, he was taking it back.

[trippinsorrows]

How would Solana initiate sexy time with her husband? 🤭 cause we already know Roman has no problem doing it, and he's not afraid of coming out too strong 🥵 in the best way.... but what about my girl, once she gets the groove of things and plans on seducing him

roman knows his wife. knows her well. like the back of his hand. that's why he knows exactly what she wants before she even asks.

he's in his office, sitting at his desk when she walks in, wearing one of those fucking short, skimpy dresses that leaves nothing to the imagination. he loves them on her, but he loves them even more off her.

she gives him a small smile. "got the girls down."

it's a bit of a trial run they're doing. seeing if they can alternate bedtime duties, as lina and leya have fallen into a routine of wanting both of them present before falling asleep.

which is fine, except for when roman has to be out of town for business. or even when he can't make it home until late. thus, them trying out this new solo turn taking endeavor.

"how were they?"

she closes the door behind her, roman noticing the way she locks it as well. "lina was okayish. leya was the hardest."

he nods. makes sense. leya is the more sentimental of the two. sensitive, almost. she required a higher level of assurance than her sister.

"but they're sleep?"

solana nods, making her way over to him, her steps slow, almost hesitant, as if she's waiting for him to send her way.

like that would ever fucking happen.

"are you....busy?"

that smirk returns on his handsome face as he rolls back the chair. roman spreads his legs, again noticing the way her eyes dart to his crotch. the smirk deepens.

he motions her over with his index finger. "never too busy for you."

his eyes stay glued to her breast, her areolas already peppered against the thin material of her dress.

sitting on his lap at a sideways angle, roman shifts her so that her back is pressed up against his chest. she releases a shaky breath. "roman....."

"you wanna tell me the real reason you came in here?" he teases his tongue along the shell of her ear. "why you locked the door?" he moves one big hand to the side of her thigh, slowly sliding up her dress. "hmm?"

her eyes flutter shut, roman groaning as she adjusts herself on top of him, most likely due to the growing erection pressing against that juicy, fat ass of hers. "ro, you.....you know why....."

he smiles, pressing his lips to her temple before playing coy. "no, i don't." she gasps when he slides his hand between her thighs. "tell me."

a moan leaves her pretty mouth, edging him on even more as he circles his finger across her skin, gradually moving closer and closer to her cunt that he'd bet any money is already nice and wet.

just for him.

"roman, please....."

he shakes his head, his other hand moving to her chest. he easily slides his hand through the top of her dress, gently squeezing her breast.

she throws her head back, eyes still closed, roman granted a front row seat to one of the seven world wonders. she's inhumanly beautiful when she's so wanton and needy for him like this.

he shakes his head, one thumb peppering across her nipple, the other ghosting over the cotton of her underwear. "you gotta tell me first, baby......" he's a compassionate man. caring. it's why he allows his fingers to slip past the seam of her underwear, where he's met with the expected wetness that's nearly dripping.

he makes a sound, licking hips lips. her desire for him has to be about what and what with his right now for her. he'd give anything to have his face buried in her sweet cunt, and he just might.

as soon as she fulfills his one request.

"just say it, sol," he glides his fingers across her wet, velvety folds, solana gripping his wrist, writhing atop him. an effort to get him inside of her, to stop this torture. "say what you want papi to do to his sweet girl."

he's certain she almost came right then and there. the combination of his words, the play of his fingers with her nipples and her cunt resulting in borderline overstimulation.

but, it's effective.

eyes open, mouth ajar, panting with burning need, he matches her glazed eyes. "i want you to eat my pussy and f-fuck me, papi."

and not a man on this earth has ever been as blessed as him in this moment. roman practically growls, yanking back his hands and hiking her on her waist before he lays her down on his desk.

"you only have to ask once, amore mio....."

--------

not exactly what you asked for but a lil something! lol

[daysofyellowroses]

ride

david von erich x reader | 1.5k | based on this lovely lovely request 🫶🏻 | no real warnings, just some softness 🌼💗

It sometimes makes you laugh when you think about how ridiculously stereotypical your relationship is in some ways. You love it, and wouldn't change it for anything, of course, but you really hit some classics.

Neighbors? ✔️

Met as little kids? ✔️

Went through school together? ✔️

First kiss? ✔️

First time? ✔️

Prom King & Queen? ✔️

But, while there are a lot of typical things about your relationship, you like to think you still have your own thing going on too. You and David have been officially dating since you were fourteen years old, you know each other better than anyone. You have your own private jokes, references, pet names, memories. 

It wasn't planned, of course. To get together so young and go through your life together. Hell, you both had a lot of life to live yet. Early twenties weren't exactly over the hill. But you just felt like what you had with David would be forever when you first got together. So far, you haven't been proved wrong.

The two of you always support each other, build each other up and push each other to go for your goals. Sometimes your friends ask if you get jealous now that David has joined Kevin in the ring, and has so much attention from girls. You just laugh when it comes up, there's really no reason to be jealous. If anything it just makes you feel more secure in your relationship. You know David enjoys the attention but he only has eyes for you, you're the one in his bed, in his truck, laying beside him in the grass, his hand intertwined with yours as he talks about your future together. 

It doesn't feel scary, thinking about a future with David. You can see a home, kids, a dog, the whole nine yards. Even if it was just you and him forever, you would still be deliriously happy. 

“What are you smiling about over there?”

David's voice snaps you from your thoughts, and you glance over to the driver's seat. 

“I would tell you but your hat wouldn't fit anymore,” You tease, looking back to the window. “And I would feel guilty, can't have that.”

“Aw come on,” David grins, his hand reaching out to touch your thigh. You're wearing shorts and the feel of his hand on your bare skin feels, as always, deeply comfortable and satisfying. “take the risk.”

“Nope,” You look over and stick your tongue out playfully. “You know anyway. I don't need to tell you.”

“Who says I know?” David is a terrible liar, always has been. 

“You know,” You grinned, shaking your head. “There's very few things that I allow space for in my daydreams.”

“True,” David nods, looking back to the road. The smile on his face has you wanting to kiss him. “And obviously I'm top of that list.”

You roll your eyes with a smile.  

“Stop being so cocky.”

“I don't think so darlin’,” David gently squeezes your thigh. “you love it.”

“Do I?” You raise a brow, knowing you both know the answer.

A comfortable silence falls over you, your hand resting on top of David's. You wonder if you'll ever get tired of this, of getting into his truck with no particular destination in mind. You don't think you could get tired of it, not when it feels so perfect. 

“When is Kerry coming home?” You ask, glancing over to David. He lets out the smallest of sighs, his thumb gently stroking your thigh.

“He leaves tomorrow morning,” David tells you, his eyes still on the road. “Should be home by the evening.”

“Okay,” You nod, gently stroking David's hand. “Just curious.”

“Could you..could you be there?” David asks after a moment. 

“Of course,” You nod, looking over to him. “You think I wouldn't be? It's like you don't even know me, babe. ”

David smiles a little and you feel yourself relax.

“Can't wait to see him though,” He says. “I mean, the circumstances ain't ideal but I can't say I ain't missed him like crazy.”

“It'll be nice to have him back,” You nod. “I'll have to fill him in on all the juicy gossip.”

“Do I get to know?” David teases, glancing over to you. “Or is it top secret stuff?"

“Oh it's just a silly thing,” You sigh with a smile, looking over to your window. “The blonde Von Erich boy is a big hot-shot wrestler now. On TV and everything, you should hear the filth that comes out of his mouth.”

“Oh he sounds incorrigible,” David gasped dramatically, making you laugh. “What a scoundrel.”

“Tell me about it,” You grinned, looking down at your hand on his. “I heard he's got a hot little girlfriend though.”

“Lucky him,” David grinned. “I bet she's got men throwing themselves at her feet, I'm sure he's extremely grateful she chose him.”

“Well when you can have the best, you get the best,” You smile, looking over to David. “And ain't nobody better than you.”

“Not true,” David looked over to you with a cheeky smile. “You're better, and I won't hear otherwise. I was lucky enough to get you and I don't plan to lose you.”

You still felt butterflies in your stomach when he said things like that, and you hoped that would never change.

“I don't plan to lose you either,” You grin, resting your free hand over your forehead. “You're stuck with me.”

“Then I'm the luckiest man alive,” David murmurs softly, you just catch it and it makes your heart soar.

You watch the world pass by the window for a while, the smile etched onto your face. In the moments David needs to move his hand from your thigh you feel the loss, your hand just waiting to hold his.

It's a little embarrassing, really, how in love you are. You have to laugh at yourself sometimes when you get moody because you haven't seen David for a couple of hours, or because he didn't hold your hand long enough. You suppose the fact that you're aware of it makes it better, and it's not really a bad thing. You're lucky enough to have an amazing relationship with a man who you love and who you know loves you.

You look over to him, watch him hum along to the radio, his fingers drumming against the wheel. These are the moments you treasure. All those girls screaming for him and desperately wanting his autograph only see one part of him. They see the confidence and the strength and the charisma, which are all amazing qualities, but they don't see what you see.

They don't see him snort out a drink because you made him laugh unexpectedly, they don't see him singing in his truck, or giving you a bunch of flowers on a Tuesday morning just because. They see what he wants them to see, and you feel beyond honored to see the real David.

“Oh hey, pull in up ahead,” You tell David, sitting up a little and gesturing at the window. “I need to grab something.”

“Your wish is my command baby,” David grins, parking up the truck and giving you a curious look as you wink at him and slip out of the truck.

You don't take long, coming back to the truck with a grin and two ice creams in hand.

“You're such a child,” David laughs as he opens the door for you and accepts one of the cones. “Making me stop for ice cream, really?”

“Well you ain't gotta eat it,” You shrug, closing the door and resting your leg up on your seat. “But we both know you will so stop complaining.”

“Oh I ain't complaining,” David smiles, leaning over and giving you a kiss. “far from it.”

“Eat that before it melts,” You murmur with a grin, leaning in to give him another kiss, pulling back after a moment and holding your ice cream between you both. “I mean it.”

“Yes ma'am,” David grins, sitting back and taking a lick of his ice cream. 

You laugh softly to yourself, looking out the window and licking your ice cream, David's hand finding yours across the seat.

The heat has your ice cream melting a little quicker, conversation is paused while you work on not getting strawberry all down your hand. David finishes before you, as always. You shuffle over and lean against him, his arm wrapping around your shoulders. Occasionally you hold the ice cream up and he takes a lick, insists you have it yourself.

You wonder if a day will ever come when you don't feel stupidly, wonderfully, madly in love, looking up and meeting David's eyes. He sticks his tongue out at you and you lightly jab his cheek with the ice cream in your hand.

“You started it,” You tease as he protests.

“Don't start a war you can't win.”

“Oh it's on,” David grins. You sit up and turn to look at him, your face starting to hurt from smiling so damn much.

“Then give me all you got.”

[ninthprime]

finished my short power fantasy reread a couple days ago and came out very impressed by it- it’s starting to scratch the itch wicdiv did years ago, though they’re very different books. i read die and a bit of once and future too, but i think this deep character drama/high worldbuilding mode is my favorite gillen. i have a bunch of things i want to post about eventually but one that immediately came to mind, especially seeing the solicits for the next two issues, was that i’m really intrigued by whatever is going on with jacky and eliza’s dynamic.

jacky in general is a character i’ve ended up really loving (er, as a character, not a person), partly because he feels like gillen working against archetype in some ways? i feel like a considerable part of the readers are going to go in with preconceived notions of what a right-wing guy with a mask is going to be like, and particularly they’re going to compare him to woden, which is of course where my brain instantly went after the first issue. if you asked me what i thought was up with jacky and eliza after #2 i would probably have the valkyries and woden’s dynamic with cassandra enter my brain. in reality jacky isn’t a lot like woden for the obvious reasons- woden’s an old white dude whose character is fundamentally linked to those things, and jacky’s a brown guy who used to be an anarchist- but also because woden’s character motivation turns out to be grimly simple and selfish, whereas jacky’s right-wing shift is clearly influenced by massive trauma and fuckups but also not justified by those things.

jacky and eliza’s dynamic appears to be pretty much(?) platonic- at least in the sense that jacky tells the pyramid that they should just kill him if he ever goes evil cult leader and has sex with any of them*- but is still incredibly loaded! jacky let her into the total arseholes in the 70s but later notes that he never trusted her enough to promote her higher, and he didn’t even back then:

(by the by, eliza being rendered in complete white in flashbacks before her decension is one of my favorite wijngaard artistic touches for the book so far. really emphasizing the good girl gone bad.)

eliza spends this entire scene questioning him, and it seems to me like she had her own ideas and agenda even back then. (what exactly is christianity in this world when valentina came down from heaven?) presumably then there was another decade-plus of history between them before the second summer of love, at which point things imploded in a way we’ll presumably find out about this week as i write this.

what’s really juicy to me though is what we get in the post-SSOL scene in #5 and after. from what i can tell, eliza’s decension was probably both a consequence of whatever she had to do in the SSOL and her own desires and beliefs…but jacky pretty clearly blames himself.

which i’d argue is a bit rude to eliza’s agency- she comes off as pretty confident in her choice here, although we haven’t been deep in her head- but that’s sure not how jacky is internalizing it. later in this scene he refers to her as “an occasional really good person who wants to be a martyr” (she seems to acknowledge this as referring to herself) and a “beautiful, sweet-hearted, doomed, dumb fuck.” it’s probably quite good for humanity that eliza came around when she did, but i don’t think jacky likes that it happened to her specifically. more importantly, it makes her the only surviving member of the original pyramid; in jacky’s eyes, she’s a living embodiment of his failure walking around, and also she could end the world right now if she wanted to on an even greater scale than he could, judging by the estimates in #6.

by the time we get to 1999 this all seems to have metastasized for jacky as…some sort of belief that eliza is aligned to him? she has to correct him on it in #2:

“eliza arrived to join me” is interesting wording- pretty sure she arrived for her own reasons, buddy. but eliza has been so offscreen up until this point that i don’t think we really have any full idea of her politics, and i’m inclined to think she might keep a lot of them to herself. it’s never even in question whether she’ll come to masumi’s art show; she was never going to. i don’t get the impression that she and jacky talk often, even if their history makes them important to each other. so jacky’s just spent years molding an idea in his head of what he would like things to be like, an idea that’s all tied up in what he thinks he needs/wants to do for the world, as it is with every relationship between the superpowers.

jacky, i know you’re saying this because she’s the only one whose powers can interfere with your plans, but it feels like you’re really saying it because you’ll burn down your relationships with the other superpowers if you have to, but you feel like you have to retain your relationship with eliza because she’s the last vestige of your past life and you hold immense guilt for her actions and you feel like retaining a stable relationship with her is important for your own stability and self-perception? is that it? i’m just saying man.

and of course none of this explains what eliza thinks about him, which is much more ambiguous, like everything else about her. well, that’s for the next few issues to discuss.

(i feel like this sort of not-quite-romantic dynamic is permeating a bunch of this book’s relationships, particularly some of the early stuff with etienne and valentina- valentina refers to some of his compliments in the first scene of the comic as “flirting”, and they have the classic childhood friends backstory. but they also are pretty obviously not a thing. you wonder how many relationships among the superpowers have hovered around it and not gotten further because The World Is At Stake. heavy seems incredibly polyamorous and isabella and masumi’s dynamic is a fucked mess neither can completely acknowledge, but the other four superpowers seem very single. etienne almost certainly has an ethical discussion of such things in his head.)

* as a side note, this is a fun parallel with heavy and his cult’s “weird sex stuff”, though despite his occasionally almost world-ending behavior heavy is still way more likable than jacky. interesting counterpoint to any potential Sex Coded As Bad takes that a lot of fiction stumbles into.

[lunasdestiny]

Not gonna lie I'm with Oktavia. What's the point of having favorite blorbos if you don't put them in a jar and shake 'em up every now and again. Hurt/comfort is a fav trope for a reason, that sweet angst coupled with an happy end is *chef kiss*. That being said, Blades getting severely hurt and Bee going feral, either for him or to protect him is juicy!

Blades getting so injured he blackouts, and Bee misunderstanding the wounds aren't fatal and just unleashing a demon he hasn't felt in a long time, making everyone witnessing stop dead. Terrifying moments pass as Bee just unleashes everything he learned from the war on their assailants before his team snaps out of it and has to restrain Bee from doing any more damage, taking him back kicking and screaming, fighting his own team even when they're safe at their own base. Clutching his hands in fists, pacing, short-fused, and ready to unleash hell like no one had seen before if hears those spark crushing words ("He...didn't make it......I'm sorry Bee...") as Blades finally gets examined.

The weight of the world that drains off of Bee when he hears Blades is alive and will be ok, laughing near hysterically as the relief overflows him, nearly crying. When Blades finally wakes up Bee is there, exhausted with a tear-stained face but awake, leaned over the berth and resting his head lightly on Blades chest, clutching his hand and just hearing his spark beating. Bee's eyes meets Blades and Bee just gives him a strained smile before breaking down completely, clutching his hand harder and moving to burrowing his face in Blades neck cables. Blades doing his best to hold Bee and reassuring him he'll be ok, both making a silent vow that something like this won't happen again.

OKAY DAMN you guys need to chill! /j

God I can even imagine an argument happening way later after this. Kinda similar to that scene from The Incredibles.

Bee has been through a LOT during the war. And lost a lot. Primus forbid one of those ends up being Blades.

[danganronpasurvivoraskblog]

Dangancember 2024 - Danganronpa Top 24 Class Trials - NUMBER 3🥉: Danganronpa 1 Case 2 {BEST CASE FROM DR1}

//Our Bronze Medalist for this ranking is the second trial from the first game. And that fact alone is kind of surprising.

//DR1 has by far the most simple of mysteries, largely thanks to the later games really going all out with the complexities and red herrings. So some of you might be wondering why this particular case, a relatively early one in its respective game, ranks so highly on my list.

//Well young boys and girls...let me tell you a tale. The tale of how Mod Creeper first discovered a visual novel series that permanently changed his life.

//Well, actually, I'm make it short. This was the very first Danganronpa case I ever experienced. Rather than starting with the beginning of the series, I initially watched a playthrough of the first game and skipped the opening case.

//Which turned out to be no skin off my nose after all.

//But yeah, the first mystery I truly immersed myself in was Game 1, Case 2, and it was a transformative moment. As soon as I finished watching it, I knew without a doubt that this was the series for me.

//And you know I mean that, because I wrote a WHOLE FANFIC CENTERED AROUND THE STUFF THAT HAPPENS IN THIS CASE.

//What makes this case particularly memorable is the compelling character dynamics it brings to the forefront. Much like the previous cases I've discussed, the interplay between the characters is one of its strongest aspects.

//Additionally, this case excels at keeping you on your toes, constantly making you second-guess your assumptions. It’s this combination of personal nostalgia and expertly crafted intrigue that solidifies its place on my list.

//Okay, so to start with, Chapter 2 is fine. It's just an okay chapter, but it's important because it's designed to keep you hooked and sets the tone for what’s to come.

//The motive Monokuma dangles in front of the students this time is as juicy as it is insidious: he threatens to reveal their most humiliating, deeply buried secrets to the entire class unless someone commits murder.

//Compared to the family-threat motive from Chapter 1, this doesn't SEEM as immediately threatening, but it does end up upping the ante by turning every interaction into a potential minefield. Who knows what horrors could be lurking in those envelopes? A secret love of pineapple on pizza? A forbidden fondness for poorly-written fanfiction? The stakes skyrocket.

//And it's what actually HAPPENS with this motive that I really like, but since it leads to the murder, we'll get to that.

//But that’s not all. This chapter also carries the weight of being the first post-trial chapter in the entire series, assuming you’re playing in chronological order. By now, you’ve endured your first taste of the ultimate despair buffet: someone you thought was your friend turned out to be an unreliable backstabber, and you watched an innocent-seeming baseball star get pulverized by an iron-fisted pinball machine.

//Suffice to say, the air is heavy, and for the first time, the game makes you sit with that weight. This isn’t just a wacky murder mystery anymore; it’s a psychological marathon, and the runners are already limping.

//On a more character-driven note, Chapter 2 marks a significant tonal shift for our cinnamon-roll protagonist, Makoto. With Sayaka out of the picture, Makoto loses that last little tether of hope she provided. Sure, she annoyed some players with her "walking embodiment of plot drama" energy, but she gave Makoto a reason to act brave when she couldn’t.

//Now, with her absence, Makoto is left fumbling to fill that void. The chapter is as much about the students attempting to "return to normal" as it is about Makoto trying to figure out what "normal" even means when your classmates keep dropping like flies. Spoiler alert: it’s not the kind of normal that includes a carefree lunch break.

//This setup works beautifully because it’s multifaceted. On top of the fear and Despair dangling over everyone's heads, the motive manipulates the social dynamic, forcing the students to confront their own vulnerabilities and question their trust in one another. Plus, the lingering despair from Chapter 1 makes it clear that the emotional stakes are here to stay. Combined with a protagonist trying to rebuild his own hope, the chapter lays the groundwork for the spiral of distrust and tension that defines the series.

//But sadly, the peace does not last, because someone does end up cracking under the pressure, and a murder is committed.

//One of the reasons this case stands out as excellent, at least to me, is how seamlessly every mystery, twist, and solution contributes to a memorable character moment. Moments that often ripple across the rest of the game in a big way. And right from the start, this case has a leg up simply because I adore both the victim and the killer.

//It’s rare to find a case where both roles are handled so compellingly, but this one nails it. And they are genuinely the complete reverse case to Kirumi and Ryoma for me, where they were BOTH INSANELY interesting to me.

//ESPECIALLY Chihiro.

//And goddammit if I wasn't so excited to get to this case JUST so I could talk about Chihiro.

//In case I haven't already made it blindingly obvious, Chihiro is far and away my favourite character from the orginal cast, and quite possibly my second favourite character in the entire series behind ONLY Kaede. He's a character whose very existence throws the audience for a loop, and I mean that in the best way possible.

//Many of the mysteries in this case stem directly from Chihiro as a character, and even in death, he remains one of the most impactful figures in the entire Danganronpa series. There’s just something so fascinating about how he subverts expectations, because on the surface, he seems shy, weak, and submissive; traits that might lead you to underestimate him. But dig deeper, and you’ll find one of the most quietly strong-hearted characters in the series.

//What really made me love Chihiro was how he reacted to Monokuma’s motive, because he does something that NO OTHER CHARACTER (Besides Kaito in V3-1 and his group, which only got interrupted by Rantaro and Tsumugi being cucks) has done before. Unlike most of the other characters, who either try to ignore the motive or contemplate murder to protect their secrets, Chihiro takes a third option. He chooses to face it head-on, not with violence, but with determination and self-improvement.

//While at this point in any Danganronpa game, others are spiraling into paranoia, Chihiro decides to do something about it. His secret, as revealed in this case as a part of the mystery to why he died in the place that he did, and it's a brilliant twist that turns the trial on its head.

//If no murder occurred, Monokuma would expose this secret, but instead of succumbing to despair or committing a crime to protect himself, Chihiro chooses a different path.

//He decides to work on himself, to build emotional and physical strength, so that he can one day share his truth on his own terms. It’s a clever, admirable response, especially coming from someone who can’t even bring himself to swat a mosquito.

//Of course, this brave decision leads to tragedy. Chihiro seeks help from the wrong person, the killer of this case, and his noble intentions are ultimately met with betrayal. It’s heartbreaking to see someone so full of potential and hope meet such an untimely end, and it makes the case all the more gut-wrenching.

//I do really wish that Chihiro had lived longer, but this case is so good, that I can forgive the decision to kill him off relatively early.

//(And no, Alter Ego is a different character than Chihiro. I have already explained that I feel this way. Despite being based on Chihiro, he is an entirely different personality, and plays a whole different role in the story, with different experiences.)

//But the beauty of this case lies in how it uses this tragedy. It doesn’t just stop at shocking revelations; it digs into the emotional fallout and how it affects the rest of the cast. Chihiro’s story, even in death, becomes a catalyst for some of the game’s most significant character growth and development. It’s not just a twist for the sake of a twist. it’s a deeply human story about vulnerability, courage, and the consequences of trust.

//And honestly, if you didn’t shed at least one tear for Chihiro, I might have to question whether Monokuma replaced your heart with a Monokuma Coin.

//But Chihiro’s death sets the stage for the investigation, which, if I’m being completely honest, is my least favorite part of this otherwise stellar case.

//Don’t get me wrong, the clues themselves are great, and piecing everything together during the trial is an absolute blast. I lost count of how many jaw-dropping moments this case delivered.

//But the journey to find those clues? Let’s just say it’s not exactly a highlight reel.

//The investigation is slow. Like, waiting in line at the DMV, slow. And the biggest drag? Spending the majority of it with Byakuya.

//Now, I get that Byakuya is supposed to be this insufferable know-it-all with a superiority complex, and he has a very important role to play in this trial, but during this segment, he takes it to a whole new level. It’s not just that he’s condescending; it’s that he doesn’t even treat you as a person.

//To Byakuya, Makoto is just some vaguely sentient tool he can use to exploit the Ultimate Lucky Student talent.

//And if you think that sounds unpleasant, trust me, it’s worse in practice. Byakuya doesn’t so much guide you through the investigation as he does lecture clues at you. Instead of letting you have the satisfaction of uncovering things on your own, he practically shoves the answers in your face while monologuing about how much smarter he is.

//Honestly, I would’ve been happier if he just handed me a checklist of locations and let me investigate solo. But no, we’re stuck with Mr. "I’m Rich and Therefore Better Than You" for the majority of this slog.

//Don’t get me wrong, Byakuya’s character is intentionally written to get under your skin, and in that sense, he’s wildly effective. But that doesn’t make it any less frustrating to have him glued to your side during what’s supposed to be a pivotal, player-driven part of the game. It’s like trying to solve a murder mystery while your annoying cousin keeps pointing out the obvious and claiming they solved it first.

//That said, I can’t let this one annoying sequence sour my opinion of the case as a whole. The investigation may drag, but it’s worth it for the payoff in the trial, where all those clues come together in spectacular fashion. So, while I may have groaned every time Byakuya opened his mouth, I can’t deny the sheer brilliance of the twists and revelations that followed. Just, uh, maybe next time give me the option to leave him in the library where he belongs?

//Anyway, the investigation wraps up, and you have your clues. It's trial time!

//This trial starts off super well, because as I said, it is absolutely FILLED with plot twists, and not a single one of them is uninteresting, or drags the trial. But the most obvious one is covered IMMEDIATELY; and not even in a way that you have to figure it out, but it's instead told to you, and you have to help explain it.

//As I mentioned earlier, one of the reasons I’m such a fan of this trial is its clever use of a red herring. Now, red herrings are a tricky beast in storytelling, because how effective they are can vary wildly depending on who you’re talking to.

//For me, a good red herring is like a well-spiced meal: it adds intrigue, hides additional mysteries, and, when done right, leads to a surprising and satisfying twist. But there’s a fine line. Overdo it, and your audience will start rolling their eyes instead of gasping in delight.

//Thankfully, Danganronpa strikes a balance that works more often than not. The series has its fair share of red herrings, but they’re spaced out just enough to avoid becoming irritating. In my opinion, the two best examples are in V3-2, where Maki’s unexpected encounter with Ryoma flips everything we thought we knew, and, of course, the one in this case. Even if you can predict the twist, the journey to uncover it and the way it’s handled are what make it memorable.

//The red herring here revolves around a character who has only been vaguely hinted at so far but takes center stage in this chapter: Genocide Jack, the infamous serial killer who exclusively targets attractive men.

//Genocide Jack’s notoriety is built up brilliantly. This is someone who’s eluded law enforcement for ages, a near-mythical figure whose very name sends shivers down spines. So naturally, when Genocide Jack’s name pops up in connection with Chihiro’s murder, thanks to a familiar message carved in blood on the wall, everyone starts freaking out and pointing fingers. Could this be the mastermind? Is the infamous Ultimate Murderous Fiend behind the bloodshed?

//And then Byakuya, in his usual smug fashion, drops the mic:

//Now, as I already admitted, the reveal isn’t exactly the world’s most shocking twist. If you’ve been paying attention to Toko’s erratic behavior, you could probably piece it together.

//But the way it’s revealed is pure gold.

//Toko is revealed to have Dissociative Identity Disorder (not the same as Schizophrenia as I was led to believe for so long, so I apologize for being unable to make the distinction in the past), with her alternate personality being none other than Genocide Jack; or, as she prefers to be called, Genocide Jill (or Genocider Sho, if you’re rocking the Japanese version).

//And let me tell you, Genocide Jill is a RIOT. She’s like the unhinged cartoon villain you never knew you needed in your murder mystery.

//What makes Jill so fascinating is how she manages to be both a perfect foil AND a twisted mirror of Toko. On one hand, she’s loud, outgoing, and unapologetically chaotic, everything Toko isn’t. But on the other hand, she shares Toko’s unhealthy obsession with Byakuya, which manifests in wildly inappropriate, borderline absurd ways. It’s a fascinating dynamic, and it keeps you glued to the screen, not knowing what she’s going to do or say next.

//Despite being a literal serial killer, Genocide Jill is mostly played for laughs, and it works. Her maniacal cackling, over-the-top dialogue, and penchant for wild, inappropriate jokes add a bizarre layer of levity to an otherwise intense trial. She’ll pretend to drop a serious revelation, only to swerve into a punchline. It’s unhinged, but it fits the chaotic world of this franchise perfectly.

//And then there’s her self-proclaimed fujoshi tendencies, which take her over-the-top personality to new heights. Jill gleefully declares that she only kills cute boys who, and I quote, "turn her on, a detail so ludicrously specific that it’s hard not to laugh.

//Because how could anyone have guessed that Toko’s repressed, introverted personality would manifest in such an explosively cartoonish, sadomasochistic alter ego this way? You could have seen the half-serial killer twist coming, but NO WAY anyone thought it was gonna manifest like this.

//It’s the kind of twist that’s so outlandish it somehow works, and it gives this trial a unique flavor that no other case in the series quite matches.

//But then it gets MORE intense, because this leads into ANOTHER possibility.

//After Toko is outed to be GJ, the group quickly narrows their focus on her. Everyone becomes engrossed in debating whether Jill could be the culprit, citing her violent history and the eerie similarities between Chihiro’s murder and Jill’s MO.

//However, the evidence doesn't line up, and not only is Jill not the killer, but she eventually becomes one of the first game’s SURVIVORS!

//And this is where another key character in this case steps into the fray: Byakuya.

//I've been eluding to him a bit so far, but this is the case where Byakuya really comes front-and-center compared to the rest of the game, besides maybe Chapter 4. But while he's not exactly as compelling an antagonist as the future rivals in the series, the Affluant Progeny laid the groundwork for the type of character dynamic that Nagito and Kokichi would go on to take and run with.

//So far, Byakuya has been an arrogant thorn in everyone’s side, but it's here that he seizes an opportunity to step into the limelight. He was already a smug elitist, and the kind of guy you’d expect to demand five-star service during an apocalypse, but this case reveals a darker, more manipulative side.

//If Chapter 1 painted him as an insufferable know-it-all, Chapter 2 cements him as a grade-A sociopath. He pulls off actions so reprehensible that it’s a wonder he wasn’t voted off the proverbial island long before the game’s end.

//First of all, as I already said, Byakuya is the one who exposes Toko’s alter ego, Genocide Jill, to the rest of the group. And the only reason he knows the truth is because Toko TOLD him, and he actively and unashamedly goes against her wishes, and outs her.

//Does he do this out of concern for the group’s safety? Nope. Does he think it’ll help solve the murder? Not really. He does it purely to stroke his own ego, basking in the chaos that ensues.

//But wait, there’s more.

//When the group begins piecing together the crime scene, suspicion briefly turns toward Byakuya for a few reasons: the extension cord used to string up Chihiro’s body matched one seen in the library, a place Byakuya frequented, and the bloodstained message, "Blood Lust," mimicked Genocide Jill’s signature style, and Byakuya was the only one who read the Genocide Jack file, which described her specific methods.

At this point, you might think Byakuya is the killer...And that’s exactly what he wants you to think. The truth, however, is far worse.

//Byakuya isn’t the killer, but he did tamper with the crime scene in the most twisted way imaginable. After noticing the actual killer leaving the girl’s locker room, he discovered Chihiro’s body and decided to "spice things up." He staged the scene to implicate Genocide Jill, stringing up Chihiro’s body with the extension cord and scrawling Blood Lust on the wall in Chihiro’s blood.

//You might think what the hell he could possibly stand to gain by doing this, especially since one misstep means that EVERYONE dies, including Byakuya himself.

//Well, it turns out all of this was done not to protect himself or even to accuse someone else, but it was to make the killing game "more interesting" and to force Toko’s secret into the open. As well as to give him an idea of what kinds of minds he's up against.

//For context, earlier in this chapter, when everyone is trying to unite under one banner, Byakuya outright refuses, and practically BULLIES Chihiro for ever thinking that a sense of cameraderie could be found in the environment of a Killing Game. And throughout the game, before and after this, he is a cold, self-centered individual with a deeply reserved demeanor. His aloofness stems from an unshakable sense of superiority and an unyielding belief that most people are inherently beneath him.

//And while it's frustrating, this mindset complies PERFECTLY to what he talks about in his backstory during his Free Time Events. It really gives you the motivation to go out of your way to spend time with him, because it really goes into good detail at why Byakuya is so adamant to comply to the Killing Game the way it is meant to be played, at least until Chapter 4.

//Born into the prestigious Togami family, Byakuya was forced to compete against his siblings in a ruthless battle for succession. Only the most competent sibling would inherit the family name and fortune, while the rest were disowned and cut off financially, labeled as dead to the family.

//Growing up in this cutthroat environment shaped Byakuya into someone who views the world through a lens of "winners" and "losers." To him, life is a zero-sum game where cooperation is a weakness and emotional bonds are trivial distractions.

//Byakuya’s disdain for collaboration and his dismissal of others as insignificant are rooted in his belief that self-interest is the only true driving force behind human behavior. His upbringing not only honed his competitive edge but also left him with a deeply cynical view of relationships, which he regards as petty and unimportant. And he perfectly summarizes it in his own words:

"You're not about to claim she wouldn't kill a close friend, are you? You still don't get it, do you? The game we're playing here isn't so kind. Honeyed words like friendship don't matter here. What matters is outwitting the opponent, defeating them...Not a person alive would sacrifice themselves for another. In the end, we're all in it for ourselves."

//This mindset obviously comes back to bite him in Chapter 4, but we have already talked about that.

//What makes Byakuya so detestable here isn’t just the tampering itself, though that’s bad enough; it’s his cold, calculated reasoning and justification behind his actions.

//He doesn’t care about Chihiro’s dignity or the emotional toll on the group. To him, it’s all a game, a twisted experiment to see how far he can push his classmates before they break. He even admits he was aware that his meddling would make him a suspect, but he couldn’t resist the "fun" of stirring the pot.

//As interesting as he ends up being, and as much development as he goes through after this, this case solidifies Byakuya as one of the most despicable little fucks in the series. Not because he’s a killer, but because his actions reveal a complete lack of empathy. He doesn’t just view his classmates as beneath him; he treats them as pawns in his personal chess game, moving them around for his entertainment. It’s a chilling glimpse into this warped psyche he has, and a stark reminder of how dangerous unchecked arrogance can be.

//So while Nagito and Kokichi are more complex and arguably more compelling, Byakuya lays the groundwork for the unpredictable rival archetype. Love him or hate him, he makes this case unforgettable, and gives us plenty of reasons to hate him along the way.

//When the trial discussion begins to zero in on potential suspects, Byakuya’s overconfidence is momentarily disrupted, and Kyoko steps in to steer the investigation in a new direction. Her calm and incisive analysis introduces a revelation that not only reshapes the trial but also leaves an indelible mark on the game, and unlike Trial 1, REALLY defines how far this game is willing to go to catch you off guard.

//The build-up to this twist is handled with remarkable care, with every clue serving as a breadcrumb in a trail that keeps you engaged, guessing, and second-guessing. When the truth finally comes out, it’s both shocking and strangely fitting, a testament to the narrative’s ability to balance absurdity with depth.

//The lead-up to the twist begins with inconsistencies that don’t seem to add up, particularly regarding where the crime took place. Initially, it’s assumed the murder occurred in the girls’ locker room because that’s where Chihiro’s body was found. But as the discussion progresses, it’s revealed that the murder actually happened in the boys’ locker room, and the killer went to great lengths to swap the two rooms to obscure this fact.

//This revelation should theoretically narrow down the suspects, as only a boy could access the boys’ locker room due to the biometric security system that ensures nobody can enter the wrong room without being riddled with bullets. But then a new problem arises, because if Chihiro was a girl, as everyone believed, how could he have accessed the boys’ locker room?

//The contradiction hangs in the air, and tension builds as the trial teases out every angle. Then, in a moment that’s both jaw-dropping and comically over-the-top, the truth comes to light:

//Chihiro Fujisaki wasn’t a girl at all. He was a cross-dressing boy.

//And this revelation flips the entire trial, and everyone’s assumptions, on its head.

//This twist lands perfectly for a variety of reasons. For one, it’s not a sudden, out-of-nowhere bombshell, but it's not hinted at enough to be blatantly obvious. The game spends time setting up the groundwork with subtle hints, such as Chihiro’s soft-spoken nature and reluctance to use the locker rooms. These details, while easy to overlook on a first playthrough, become glaringly significant in hindsight. As ridiculous as the notion is, given how meek and feminine Chihiro always came across, it doesn’t feel forced or contrived because it’s woven into the fabric of the narrative from the beginning, making the reveal not just surprising but satisfying.

//What makes this moment even more impactful is its emotional depth. Chihiro’s decision to present as a girl wasn’t just a quirky personality trait or a superficial gimmick. It was rooted in years of pain and self-doubt.

//Monokuma reveals post-trial that as a child, Chihiro was relentlessly bullied for being weak and not living up to societal expectations of masculinity. Dressing as a girl was his way of escaping that ridicule, a shield against the harsh judgments of others.

//But this choice came with its own set of challenges, fostering a deep inferiority complex. Chihiro wanted to be seen as strong and capable, but he felt trapped, unable to reconcile his true self with the persona he had created to protect himself.

//This internal struggle adds a layer of tragedy to Chihiro’s story and elevates the twist from a mere plot device to a poignant exploration of identity and self-worth.

//It also contextualizes his actions leading up to his death. Instead of succumbing to Monokuma’s motive and resorting to murder, Chihiro chose a path of self-improvement. He began training in secret, both physically and mentally, determined to grow stronger and eventually share his truth with the world on his own terms. This decision, born of courage and hope, ultimately led him to confide in the killer, tragically sealing his fate.

//However, while the emotional resonance of this twist is undeniable, it’s not without its flaws. While the initial shock from the cast feels natural, their quick acceptance of Chihiro’s true identity comes across as a bit too tidy. Almost immediately, they begin referring to Chihiro as male, seamlessly integrating this revelation into their discussions as if it were a minor detail rather than a groundbreaking shift in their understanding of their classmate.

//While this efficiency keeps the trial moving at a brisk pace, it sacrifices some of the nuance and emotional complexity that such a revelation would realistically entail. Even for a group grappling with life-and-death stakes, this level of instant adjustment feels a bit implausible.

//The trope of cross-dressing characters is not uncommon in early 2000s anime, so this twist fits comfortably within the genre’s conventions. However, what sets it apart is the depth of emotion and thoughtfulness behind its execution.

//Chihiro’s struggles are treated with a surprising amount of sensitivity for a series known for its over-the-top antics. The twist isn’t just a shocking moment for the sake of drama, but it also ties directly into the themes of self-identity, resilience, and the impact of societal expectations.

//Moreover, it segues seamlessly into the motives and circumstances of the case, adding layers of complexity to both the mystery and the character dynamics.

//I feel like I say that a lot, but it's true.

//And then the conclusion of this trial comes about as a result of a neat little gambit from Kyoko, that finally nails down the killer, with all the facts on the table serving to place them under the guilty spotlight. The sequence is very dramatic, and very well structured.

//Kyoko skillfully draws the killer into a trap by zeroing in on a critical detail: Chihiro’s tracksuit. She highlights its specific color, implying that Chihiro had carefully chosen it for a planned training session with someone who would be wearing a matching outfit. This subtle nudge prompts everyone to recall their own tracksuit colors, and it’s here that Mondo Owada unknowingly seals his fate.

//In a clumsy attempt to prove his innocence, he eagerly states that his tracksuit was black, while Chihiro’s was blue, thinking this distinction would exonerate him. The problem? Celeste had testified earlier that she saw Chihiro carrying a tracksuit in a duffle bag but never mentioned its color.

//For Mondo to know Chihiro’s tracksuit was blue, he would’ve needed to see it firsthand at the time of the murder. Celeste confirms this detail, further tightening the noose around Mondo as she reiterates her sighting of the blue tracksuit. Taka, ever eager to contribute, recalls seeing the tracksuit and bag during the investigation, but Kyoko quickly corrects him, noting that both had been disposed of by then, leaving no chance for Mondo to craft a plausible alibi.

//Cornered, Mondo fumbles for an explanation, claiming that he happened to see Chihiro carrying the blue tracksuit as they crossed paths. But this excuse falls apart when Makoto recalls Celeste’s testimony: Chihiro had deliberately stuffed the tracksuit entirely into the duffle bag, ensuring it wasn’t visible. Mondo’s story, already thin, collapses under the weight of this contradiction, making it clear he’s lying.

//Adding to the suspicion, Kyoko astutely points out that Mondo referred to Chihiro as "dude" earlier in the trial, rather than "chick." This subtle slip indicated Mondo knew about Chihiro’s true gender, something only the killer could have known at this point. While this detail alone isn’t enough to definitively convict Mondo, it deepens Kyoko’s suspicions and primes the rest of the class for the final pieces of evidence.

//At this critical juncture, Hifumi unexpectedly steps in with a crucial revelation: he found a broken E-Handbook in the sauna. Since Chihiro’s E-Handbook was missing from the crime scene, it’s reasonable to suspect the broken one belonged to him.

//Here’s where things get interesting. Mondo had recently competed in a grueling sauna endurance contest with Taka, during which he unknowingly left his E-Handbook in his pocket. The intense heat damaged the device, inadvertently teaching Mondo about its weakness. Armed with this knowledge, Mondo destroyed Chihiro’s E-Handbook after the murder to cover his tracks. To avoid suspicion, he replaced his broken E-Handbook with Leon’s, knowing Leon couldn’t object due to being, well, dead.

//Makoto suggests a simple test to confirm this: everyone shows their E-Handbooks. But at this point, Mondo has no way out. Revealing his E-Handbook would expose the switch, proving he had Leon’s and confirming his role in the crime, so, realizing he’s cornered, Mondo finally breaks down and confesses to killing Chihiro. The students vote unanimously to convict him, sealing his fate.

//Now...Chihiro alone is already carrying this case with how brilliant a character he is. However, I would go the extra mile and say that Mondo is one of the most criminally underrated characters in the Danganronpa series, and if nothing else, definitely so amongst the killers of each game.

//What truly stands out about Mondo, and this case in particular, is his motive. Unlike many other killers in the series, Mondo didn’t kill to protect his secret or out of malicious intent. Instead, his actions stemmed from a complex mix of jealousy, frustration, emotional vulnerability, and above all, deep-rooted trauma.

//The full circumstances are as follows: Mondo grew up idolizing his older brother, Daiya, who played a pivotal role in shaping him into the person he would become. Raised with the values of strength and resilience, Mondo was introduced to the world of biking at a young age when Daiya invited him to join The Crazy Diamonds, their legendary biker gang. Inspired by his brother's example, Mondo dedicated himself to biking and helped solidify the gang’s reputation as one of the most feared and respected in Japan. Together, the siblings earned the moniker "The Diamond Brothers," becoming a household name in the underground biker community.

//Despite his growing skills and reputation, Mondo constantly lived in Daiya's shadow. Early in his riding career, he struggled to keep up, often finding himself at the back of the pack. On one such occasion, his inexperience led to an encounter with the police that caused chaos for the group. But Mondo refused to let his setbacks define him. Through perseverance and sheer determination, he rose through the ranks and eventually became a force to be reckoned with in his own right.

//Mondo’s defining moment came when Daiya decided it was time to retire and pass the leadership of The Crazy Diamonds to him. The gang members, however, doubted Mondo’s ability to fill his brother’s shoes, so Mondo issued a challenge to Daiya: a high-stakes race to prove he was worthy of the role.

//Tragically, the race ended in disaster. During the heated competition, Mondo recklessly drove into oncoming traffic. In a split-second act of selflessness, Daiya pushed Mondo’s motorcycle aside, saving his younger brother but sacrificing himself in a fatal collision with another vehicle.

//Devastated by his brother’s death, Mondo was consumed by guilt, but he honored Daiya’s dying wish. To lead The Crazy Diamonds and never blame himself for the accident. Unable to admit the truth, Mondo told the gang nothing of his involvement in Daiya’s death. Instead, he channeled his grief into maintaining The Crazy Diamonds as Japan’s most formidable biker gang, carrying on his brother’s legacy while hiding the burden of his secret.

//Fast forward to the killing game, where Monokuma introduced his second motive; revealing each participant’s darkest secret. Mondo’s envelope contained the devastating confession, that Mondo was the cause of death for his brother.

//This revelation terrified Mondo. The very foundation of his identity and leadership, the image of strength and reliability, was built on a lie. If the truth were exposed, not only would his reputation crumble, but it could also destroy The Crazy Diamonds, breaking the pact he’d made with Daiya to keep the gang intact.

//Meanwhile, Chihiro, faced with the same motive, reacted differently. Instead of succumbing to fear, Chihiro became determined to grow stronger and confront his own insecurities. Inspired by Mondo’s seemingly unshakable persona, Chihiro decided to confide his secret in him, believing Mondo could understand and provide guidance. Chihiro invited Mondo to train with him in the gym, hoping to take the first step toward self-improvement.

//In the boys’ locker room, Chihiro revealed his truth: that he was a boy who had been pretending to be a girl to avoid being bullied for his perceived weakness. He explained his desire to overcome his fears and grow stronger, no matter the challenges.

//However, Mondo, already under immense pressure from Monokuma’s threat, was blindsided by the revelation. Hearing Chihiro’s confession sparked a storm of emotions in Mondo. Jealousy, self-loathing, and anger surged as he grappled with the realization that Chihiro, someone he had viewed as weak, possessed a level of emotional strength and courage that Mondo lacked.

//Chihiro, a small and seemingly fragile boy who dressed as a girl to avoid ridicule, found the courage to confide his secret in Mondo. For someone like Mondo, built on a foundation of machismo, loyalty, and an obsession with appearing strong, this moment was earth-shattering.

//Mondo, who had spent his life cultivating an image of toughness, now felt exposed. The weight of his survivor’s guilt and the constant fear of his secret being uncovered made him feel weaker than ever. Chihiro’s bravery only magnified Mondo’s insecurities, leading to a boiling point where his envy turned into uncontrollable rage.

//In an impulsive and tragic act, Mondo struck Chihiro in the head with a dumbbell, killing him. Thus, what began as a moment of admiration and connection turned into one of the most devastating events of the killing game..a senseless murder fueled by jealousy, guilt, and the crushing weight of unspoken truths.

//Mondo’s actions are unforgivable, but what makes his character compelling is the sheer depth of his remorse over this. He doesn’t fit the mold of the cold-blooded killer or the manipulative mastermind.

//Instead, Mondo is consumed by guilt. His reaction throughout the trial is one of disbelief and self-loathing, as though he can’t come to terms with the fact that he’s capable of such a thing. And that regret alone sets him apart from every other killer in the series.

//In Danganronpa, murderers often fall into four broad categories: those who kill for selfish gain (like Celeste or Teruteru), cold-blooded killers who kill out of sociopathy (like Kiyo or Mikan), those manipulated into killing (like Gonta or Chiaki), and those with motives that, while tragic, are grounded in reason (like Gundham or Satsuki).

//Mondo, however, occupies a unique space. He is not an unwilling pawn, nor does he commit murder for a calculated purpose. Instead, his crime is an impulsive, emotionally charged act that he makes ABUNDANTLY CLEAR that he wishes to HIGH HEAVEN that he could undo.

//Mondo is the first killer in the series to express genuine guilt over his actions instead of trying and failing to justify them. But to this day, he's the only killer who you can truly tell he wants nothing more than to take it back, but tragically knows that he's already fucked himself over, and there's only one path left for him.

//Other killers in Danganronpa show remorse, but never outright condemn themselves for their actions, because a lot of them still stand by their actions, and that their ends justfied their means. Not Mondo.

//In fact, Mondo is the only killer in the first game who confesses to his crime before the vote. That moment, where he admits to the murder, is both a gut-punch and a testament to his character. It highlights the tragedy of the case. He didn’t want to be a killer, and yet he became one.

//This is highlighted by poor Taka's reaction, starting a trauma train for him before 1-3 completely wastes it. Taka, at this point in the game, is Mondo's arch-rival turned best friend and blood brother. He's the one who brings most of the heartache to the trial, because he's so adamant against the idea that Mondo could be the killer, and he's also directly tied to the piece of evidence that ultimately incriminates him. His breakdown reflects on the player, and it makes everything even more gutting.

//Adding yet nother layer of poignancy to Mondo’s character is Kyoko’s post-trial insight. She speculates that Mondo’s decision to switch the boys’ and girls’ locker rooms wasn’t solely about covering his tracks. Instead, it was a last-ditch effort to protect Chihiro’s secret for as long as possible. This act, though misguided, shows a glimmer of the kindness and respect Mondo had for Chihiro, even after what he’d done. It wasn’t enough to erase his guilt, but it underscores the depth of his regret and his desire to honor Chihiro in some way.

//What makes this situation even more heart-wrenching is the context, and reflecting on what you actually just went through after the trial. Mondo is not just a rough, gruff biker with a violent streak. Beneath his tough exterior, he has a heart of gold, as evidenced by his genuine friendship with Taka, the honor student. Their bond is one of the most endearing parts of the early game, built on mutual respect despite their vastly different personalities. To see someone like Mondo, who was capable of such strong friendships and who valued loyalty above all, commit this crime is a tragic twist.

//Meanwhile, Byakuya, who shamelessly tampered with the crime scene to boost his own ego, and Genocide Jill, a literal serial killer, serve as red herrings in this case, and survive not just past this trial, but both make it to the end of the game. The irony is almost painful: the person who seemed most trustworthy, someone who built a meaningful connection, ends up being the culprit.

//The emotional weight of this case easily rivals the infamous suicide case later in the game. Mondo’s crime wasn’t premeditated, nor was it born of pure malice. It was the result of a moment of vulnerability and insecurity, and that’s what makes it so impactful.

//You’re left not just grieving for Chihiro but also for Mondo, who is a victim of his own flawed sense of strength and masculinity. It’s a deeply human tragedy, and that’s what makes this case one of the most memorable in the series.

//And fuck me, I wish more people appreciated him.

//That's basically the majority of what I have to say on the trial, but I want to end this analysis by making a statement. Because this is heavily associated with this trial, and even though I really don't want to, I need to cover it, or else some people might come after me.

//This trial is fantastic. But in recent times, when I've been looking at other reviews for reference, I can't help but notice that some people really don't like this trial, and think that narratively, it's one of the worst in the series.

//And there's only one or two reasons for that, and they're all the same. And it pisses me the fuck off, because it reminds me that people are so quick to jump on this type of stuff, and it makes them miss what is actually genuinely amazing writing, mystery-solving, and everything the Danganronpa series stands for.

//Alright...here goes...

//This chapter, aptly named "Boys' Life of Despair," remains one of the most controversial in the series, largely due to its handling of Chihiro's gender identity and Genocide Jill’s characterization and how that reflects back on D.I.D. as a condition.

//While the case delves into deep themes such as guilt, weakness, and societal expectations, lots of people, from what I have seen, have criticized how these topics are presented. The controversy stems from whether the game misrepresents or trivializes sensitive issues such as transgender identity and mental health.

//Quite a significant number of people interpreted Chihiro's story as a poorly executed representation of transgender identity. Although the game never explicitly states that Chihiro identifies as transgender, the setup inadvertently evokes real-world experiences of gender dysphoria and societal pressures faced by transgender individuals.

//Critics argue that the game's framing treats Chihiro’s gender presentation as a plot twist rather than a nuanced exploration of identity. The reveal is pivotal to the case but comes across as reductive, reducing Chihiro’s complex internal struggles to a mere "shock factor" moment.

//Moreover, the resolution of Chihiro’s arc is problematic for some. Chihiro is framed as wanting to become “stronger” by embracing traditional masculinity, which implies that their perceived weakness is tied to their feminine appearance. Which comes across as dismissive of the broader spectrum of gender identity and expression, and for many, feels like the narrative missed an opportunity to explore Chihiro’s courage in defying societal norms rather than portraying their femininity as a flaw to be corrected.

//As for Jill, she's obviously a standout character in the series for a long time even after this trial, but her portrayal as a comic relief character often veers into caricature, with exaggerated behaviors and dialogue that reduce her mental health condition to a punchline. And that's ignoring the fact that she's a deranged psychopath.

//For many, this feels insensitive, as it reinforces harmful stereotypes about people with split-personalities being dangerous or unstable, and not as people who might genuinely need help, or suffering under a mental condition that is often born of traumatic incidents, and also that most people have no control over.

//The comedic tone surrounding Jill contrasts sharply with the serious nature of D.I.D, leaving many feeling that the game trivializes the disorder. This portrayal has sparked debates about whether the developers intended for Genocide Jill to be a satirical character or simply misunderstood the nuances of mental health representation. Regardless of intent, the character has been widely regarded as an inaccurate and harmful depiction of DID, leading to further scrutiny of the series' approach to complex psychological topics.

//Now...*sigh* personally, I do think these concerns are valid. Especially the one's with Jill. And people are free to debate the sexualities and gender identity of characters all they want; that's the entire fucking point of Fandom.

//And as your stereotypical cisgendered white man, who has no sway in these discussions as he cannot speak from a trans person perspective, please allow me to explain how I interpreted it, and what I genuinely believe was the intended effect, and hopefully, it will make a bit more sense.

//Danganronpa, as a series full of a variety of interesting characters, is basically BUILT on, and relies VERY HEAVILY on stereotypes. Particularly the first game's cast, because all of them are based on a well-known Japanese characterization stereotype.

//All of which have been used in anime and manga series before, quite a majority of them in one's with school settings.

//Barring Chihiro, here's the list:

Makoto is the "Everyman Protagonist." He represents the typical Japanese high school student with no standout qualities, that is most commonly seen in the position of the main character, as a means of making them more relateable to a general audience. His luck reflects the idea of fortune favoring the ordinary, a common theme in Japanese storytelling. Other examples for this archetype include Shinji Ikari (Neon Genesis Evangelion) and Tsuna Sawada (Katekyo Hitman Reborn!)

Kyoko is the Kuudere, i.e. the cool, calm, and collected one. She embodies the quiet, mysterious type who slowly reveals a more emotional and caring side. This is a common archetype in Japanese fiction, particularly for female leads in romance or crime stories. Other examples include Rei Ayanami (Neon Genesis Evangelion), Mikasa Ackerman (Attack on Titan), and C.C. (Code Geass).

Byakuya is the Elite Snob. He represents the privileged, highly educated upper class with a sense of superiority, and his arrogance reflects the stereotypical "rich heir" character in Japanese media. Other examples include Seto Kaiba (Yu-Gi-Oh!) and Gilgamesh (Fate series)

Toko, and by extension Jill, are the "Mojo Girl." This term came from モテない女 (motenai jo) meaning unpopular girl, shortened to モ女 (mojo). In short, Toko is the classic "weird girl" stereotype, socially awkward and self-deprecating. Her Genocide Jack persona exaggerates the duality often seen in overworked or mentally strained artists. Tomoko Kuroki (Watamote) is a prime example of this.

Hina is the Genki Girl, meaning she's the energetic, positive, upbeat female among the cast. Though she goes through a lot od ups and downs, she' generally has a cheerful and optimistic personality that aligns with the "genki girl" archetype, a common depiction of athletic and lively female characters in Japanese media. Yui Hirasawa (K-On!), Asuka Langley Soryu (Neon Genesis Evangelion), and Misaka Mikoto (A Certain Scientific Railgun) are other examples.

Sakura is the Gentle Giant. Her intimidating appearance contrasts with her noble and compassionate personality, playing on themes of inner versus outer strength. A prominent example of this on other media is actually her Death Battle opponent, Jonathan Joestar (JoJo's Bizarre Adventure).

Celeste is, obviously, the Gothic Lolita, but she also subtly plays the role of the mysterious foreiner despite being fully Japanese, since she fakes having an accent, and has a very French fake name. Celeste represents the "exotic" and enigmatic character often portrayed in Japanese fiction, and her gothic fashion and affected mannerisms tie into the lolita subculture. Other examples include Kuroneko (Oreimo), Beatrice (Umineko), and Elizabeth (Black Butler).

Mondo is the Yankii, or the Delinquent. He embodies the stereotypical Japanese high-school thug, with a hot temper, loyalty to his friends, and a love for his motorbike. His pompadour hairstyle is a hallmark of the yankii style. Ryuko Matoi (Kill la Kill), and Yusuke Urameshi (Yu Yu Hakusho) are other examples.

Hifumi is, quite obviously, the Otaku. Hifumi is a very blatant parody of the "hardcore geek" stereotype, obsessed with anime, manga, and fan culture. His exaggerated behavior and delusions about 2D characters highlight the comedic portrayal of this archetype. Daru (Steins;Gate) is another perfect example of this, almost exactly the same sterotype application as Hifumi.

Sayaka is the Popular Girl/School Idol, as well as representing the Japanese idol industry, with her cheerful demeanor and "pure" image masking the pressure and ruthlessness behind the scenes. Others in this role include Minori Kushieda (Toradora!), Yuna (Kakegurui), and a more recent example, Aira Shiratori (Dandadan).

Leon is the Lazy Jock character that reflects the stereotype of young athletes who excel in sports but secretly dream of pursuing a more "cool" career, like being a musician in his case. Ryoma from V3 also falls under this stereotype, though his story is a darker subversion of it.

Taka is the uptright Honor Student. He embodies the classic "serious student" archetype, obsessed with rules, discipline, and success. His personality mirrors the high-achieving but socially awkward individuals found in competitive academic environments, and he's none for being a stickler, and very loud in getting his points across. Tenya Iida (My Hero Academia) is an almost one-for-one identical representation of this.

Hiro is a caricature of the carefree, irresponsible fortune-teller/spiritualist, often seen as unreliable or comically inept in Japanese media. His archetype isn't as common, but Isshin Kurosaki (Bleach), as a comedic father figure with a flair for spiritualism, also falls under this umbrella.

Junko/Mukuro when she's disguised as Junko, evil antics aside, is the Gyaru, AKA, "Gal." They embody the stereotype of a trendy girl, usually one who dyes their hair blond, with a keen focus on fashion, appearances, and everything trendy. More famous examples are Marin Kitagawa (Dress-Up Darling), Minami Fuyuki (Hokkaido Gals Are Super Adorable), and Yukana Yame (My First Girlfriend is a Gal)

//Every Danganronpa character is some kind of trend/stereotype among these lines taken to the extreme, and in the case of Chihiro, he is a parody of "Otokonoko"

//Otokonoko, a Japanese term that translates roughly to "boy-girl" or "male girl," refers to a genre of crossdressing or gender expression where a male adopts traditionally feminine clothing, behaviors, and aesthetics. Often portrayed in manga, anime, and other forms of media, Otokonoko characters may appear as boys but present themselves in a way that emphasize femininity, sometimes to the point of resembling girls, though their gender identity typically remains male.

//In Otokonoko-themed works, the focus is usually on the character's appearance and performance of femininity, which can range from subtle to exaggerated. The genre can be used for comedic purposes, creating moments of confusion or surprise when others misperceive the character’s gender. While Otokonoko is sometimes used to depict male characters who are intentionally trying to deceive others about their gender, it can also highlight the character's internal struggles or desires to express themselves outside of traditional gender expectations.

//This ^^^

//THIS is what Chihiro is!

//He's not a statement on transgenderism, he is a PARODY of OTOKONOKO.

//A parody character in a game FULL of PARODY CHARACTERS.

//Chihiro’s decision to cross-dress and present as a girl stems not from a desire to transition or live as a woman, but from a deep-seated need to escape the societal pressures that define strength and masculinity. By a desire to hide his perceived weakness and to shield himself from the bullying he endured due to his fragile appearance and personality.

//His gender presentation is a coping mechanism, not an expression of gender identity.

//The experience of being transgender is rooted in a fundamental disconnect between one’s assigned gender at birth and their gender identity. For transgender individuals, transitioning is often a path to aligning their physical presentation with their internal sense of self, and it is a journey that involves a complex relationship with their gender, society, and body.

//For example, Four Kaiden was a boy at birth, and decided they wanted to be a girl instead. Kouji Ito was a girl at birth, and decided he wanted to be a boy instead.

//Chihiro Fujisaki was a boy and birth and decided he wanted to be a boy. But everyone around him kept telling him that he "wasn't very manly" so he PRETENDED he wasn't a boy so people would get off his case.

//And it's not something he ENJOYED doing.

//Chihiro’s arc doesn’t align with this process, as he’s not attempting to express a different gender identity but rather to adopt an appearance that matches the gender that he CURRENTLY identifies as.

//People are free to headcanon and portray Chihiro as trans all they want, I refuse to stop them, but CANONICALLY, Chihiro aims to be the boy that he was born as, and he himself IDENTIFIES as male, even though he pretends to be female. This is a key distinction.

//I do understand where the confusion and agitation comes from, though. Chihiro’s arc is still an interesting and powerful exploration of self-perception, insecurity, and societal pressures, particularly those related to gender.

//Chihiro's cross-dressing is a response to the unrealistic standards of strength and masculinity that are imposed upon him by both society and his own internalized beliefs. Chihiro believes that by dressing as a girl, he can escape being labeled as weak and fragile, two qualities that are traditionally deemed "unmanly" in his environment.

//What makes Chihiro’s arc compelling is not the twist about his gender, but the deeper emotional struggle he faces in coming to terms with his own self-worth. His internal conflict revolves around the desire to be strong, but not in a way that feels authentic to him. Rather than embrace traditional masculinity, he wants to cultivate his own strength, free from the narrow confines of gendered expectations.

//This isn't supposed to CONCIDE with the larger theme of toxic masculinity, it's supposed to highlight how the idea often forces individuals, particularly men, to suppress their vulnerabilities and present a facade of unyielding strength.

//If you think otherwise, I need to ask...Is Mondo just a NON-FACTOR in this equation to you?

//Mondo is LITERALLY THE MASCULINE CHARACTER. And in this case, his innate need to preserve that masculinity, and hide his weaknesses, makes him KILL SOMEONE!

//In what way was this trial framed to make you think you were supposed to APPROVE of that!?

//For me, when I'm looking back on it, the actual intent behind Chihiro’s character arc seems to be a narrative about self-improvement and the painful journey toward personal growth. Chihiro’s struggle with his self-image, and his eventual attempt to confide in Mondo, is about learning to face his fears and embrace his vulnerabilities rather than hide them behind a facade. His goal is not to fit into a specific gender role, but to find his own sense of strength and courage, free from the fear of judgment. In this way, his arc is less about gender identity and more about the universal struggle of reconciling one’s inner self with societal expectations.

//When Chihiro reveals his secret to Mondo, he is expressing a desire to be stronger, not by becoming someone he is not, but by confronting his fears and embracing who he truly is, even if that means appearing weak in others' eyes. This theme is supposed to resonate with anyone who has ever struggled with the weight of societal expectations, regardless of their gender identity, and Chihiro’s tragic end underscores the dangers of not being able to live authentically and the emotional toll that repression can take on a person.

//As someone who has seen Kazutaka Kodaka's ways on viewing things, I know for a fact that he is not transphobic, homophobic, or anything of that ilk. But it's not uncommon for him to present a deep idea in his work, and for it to come across in an absolutely implosive way that he didn't intend (V3-6).

/I personally think his intent in Chihiro’s arc seems to have been to portray the complexity of self-doubt and the journey toward personal growth. The twist about Chihiro’s gender serves as a plot device to challenge the assumptions of the other characters and to force them, and the player, to reconsider their preconceived notions about identity and strength.

//The issue at hand, therefire, is that the execution of this plot twist has been criticized for its clumsy handling of gender identity, especially in a modern world where transgender representation in media is often misrepresented or sensationalized.

//So all in all, rather than reflecting the experience of a transgender person, Chihiro’s arc is a story about confronting one’s weaknesses, internalized insecurities, and the difficulty of being true to oneself in a world that demands conformity. The twist regarding his gender is not meant to diminish the significance of gender identity but rather to highlight the emotional journey of someone who is grappling with their own concept of masculinity and strength. It’s about understanding that true strength comes not from hiding behind a facade but from embracing one’s vulnerabilities and learning to grow from them.

//It's just...important to keep in mind.

//As for Genocide Jill, she's...honestly a little harder to defend. But I'm gonna try.

//Genocide Jill is introduced as Toko Fukawa’s alternate personality, a violent and sadistic persona that emerges under specific conditions, such as extreme emotional distress or stress. Her dual personality is a key plot device that serves to explore the darker sides of Toko’s psyche, specifically her repressed desires and her history of abuse and trauma.

//Unlike a simplistic portrayal of DID, Danganronpa uses Genocide Jill to highlight the complexities of how trauma and emotional pain can manifest in different ways. Her violent persona is not something that Toko consciously chooses; it is a coping mechanism for dealing with her unresolved trauma and feelings of powerlessness.

//The reason why this is so hard to defend is that the concerns are extremely valid. Genocide Jill is not a clinical, nor is it an accurate, portrayal of D.I.D.

//But at the same time, it's not really trying to be. Not at all.

//Remember what I said about how the whole point of the Danganronpa characters is that they are comically exaggerated examples of typical Japanese stereotypes. Jill is a comically exaggerated example of D.I.D and mental fractures, in a way that rubs people the wrong way, but if you think about it, the basic premise, and how it comes about, is STILL THERE.

//Dissociative Identity Disorder is often seen as a response to trauma, particularly in cases of extreme abuse or neglect. In the case of Toko, Jill is a manifestation of the trauma she endured in her past thanks to the horrible childhood she had full of endless abuse and pain. The violent persona might represent an aspect of her psyche that is trying to reclaim power in a world where she otherwise feels completely weak and powerless.

//And people with D.I.D, while many are able to live with it, often struggle with different aspects of their personalities or identities that emerge in response to past trauma. Especially because they're not always in control of them.

//While Jill's violent outbursts and actions are extreme, her character adds complexity to the narrative by highlighting the ways in which trauma can affect someone’s behavior and their relationships with others. Her violent personality emerges in response to moments of vulnerability, and her relationship with Toko is crucial in showing how trauma can fracture an individual’s identity.

//Toko, who is initially ashamed and horrified by her other half, comes to accept that her alternate personality is part of who she is by the time Ultra Despair Girls comes around. This internal struggle and eventual acceptance reflect the ongoing process of reconciling with trauma and learning to navigate its effects on one’s sense of self.

//What’s significant is that, unlike many other characters who are defined by their extreme personalities, Toko's journey with Genocide Jill offers a more nuanced exploration of internal conflict.

//As the game/series progresses, Toko is never portrayed simply as "weak" or "messed up" because of her disorder; she is shown as a complex character who is learning to accept and integrate different aspects of herself. And even after Genocide Jack joins their group, as hard as it is to get used to her, nobody outright tries to keep themselves away from Toko because of her condition, as much as Toko believes they are.

//While Genocide Jill may have a sadistic personality, Toko is not solely defined by her violent alter ego; she is a multifaceted individual who struggles with vulnerability, fear, and self-worth. Making her more than just some mocking caricature.

//The criticism that Danganronpa makes a mockery of D.I.D comes primarily from the way Genocide Jill is portrayed as a comedic and exaggerated character, as well as ridiculous concept of a serial murderer.

//However, the key thing to note is that the game doesn’t try to provide a realistic depiction of DID. It’s using the condition as a plot device to further explore the darker and more humorous elements of the narrative.

//Obviously, that's not great, in and of itself, but Danganronpa is LITERALLY a Black Comedy game, a genre that very often involves absurd characters, exaggerated personalities, completely flippant portayals of mental unrest, and over-the-top situations.

//Jill’s larger-than-life nature fits into this tone, and her violent behavior is often played for laughs in the context of the absurd world of this game series.

//And that's really all I have to say about that. Again, believe what you want to believe, and think about it however you wish, but please, do not let these aspects take away from the sheer brilliance of this trial, because there are reasons for all of this.

//In conclusion, Game 1 Case 2 is a gripping and emotional rollercoaster that explores the complexities of identity, guilt, and trauma. While the portrayal of Chihiro's gender and Genocide Jill's DID may be controversial, these elements contribute to the larger narrative of fractured identities and the dark consequences of emotional struggles.

//Mondo's tragic motive, driven by a mix of jealousy and trauma, adds layers of depth to his character, turning him from a straightforward antagonist into one of the most remorseful killers in the series.

//And I love this case to death because of the way it stands out for its exploration of vulnerability, shame, and the high cost of secrets, making it a pivotal moment in the game's emotional journey.

//And with that, we have two more left...So what will be our runner up?

[itisbop]

And finally, here he is! The man whose song would best fit him is "The Main Character" by Will Wood, and you CAN NOT convince me otherwise. You know him! And either love or hate him! Cookie Masterson!!!

Cookie's Design is probably the one that has actual changed the LEAST since the last time I drew him. The beret, short trenchcoat, and big pants combo has always felt very Cookie-like to me.

He's a lil' pastry demon (how ironic hehe 🤭). Consisting of cookie dough with chocolate chips in it (and a hint of red velvet), sprinkles galore, juicy cherries, and buttercream! Very yummy, but you can't eat him. That's still cannibalism (/j?). Though his anatomy does consist of lots of strawberry jam and candy (that's another story for another day, though).

His color palette strays the most from the monochrome theme, though it's due to how darker shades of yellow tend to look (which in my humble opinion, majority of the time they look like ass.) Thus, I went with a delicious red instead and kept them as accents. 👍

Ladies and gentlemen of the academy after about 15 days of drawing I present to you Volume 1 of the many designs for my lil' au! Here's all of the boys together!

Plus, these logos I made for each of the boys for no reason in particular! 😁

Now, without further ado, let's take a gander at the final part of our interview!

Gluttony's Deal

"You mentioned there was someone who accompanied this journalist?"

"Ah yes! Gluttony! How could I forget about my golden child? Our relationship consisted of the most struggles. Trust me, it was one hell of a job trying to get him to come out of his shell.

From the start, I could sense that there was something... off, about that man. He seemed to have a character, and if he was able to make fast friends with my assistant, then he must've had charm. Yet, I could never pinpoint a proper flaw in him. Not to say he was an angelic little thing-ha! In fact, he was quite the opposite!

He was filled to the brim with flaws! While I wasn't as sure back then, by season three, I had a whole list! He was quite selfish, had some moderate anger issues (but not as bad as Wrath's, I don't call him Wrath for no reason), had very childish tendencies... it just goes on and on and on! I won't bore you with it, though. Okay, well, I will bore you- but just for a little!

After one show during season one, he had an argument with Lust. I believe from what I overheard and was told by other employees, Lust had said the wrong combination of words and caused Gluttony to lunge at him and try to kill him with the pen stuck in his hair. My! Was it a sight to see!"

"Oh! Uh... d-did he face any charges or consequences?"

"?"

"Ma'am, you are aware that's attempted murder... right?"

"...

Anyways! As season one was coming to a close, I decided now was the time to up our offer... I purposed the deal... and to my surprise... he declined. I tried not to think much of it. Perhaps he was just taken aback by the offer, so I brushed it off until the end of the next season... ish. I admit, I did try to persuade him throughout the season, and my bickering was probably the reason behind the second decline at the end. In the third season, I made it my GOAL to get him to change his mind. I could see the potential in him, the perfect opportunity to change his life! I just could not let him let this go to waste, a whole FEAST of dreams just for him!

And that's when it hit me.

Feast...

That was it. He was a piece of everything to me, a piece of everything I had on my list. A 'glutton' to put it lightly. I hadn't been whispering the right words to him.

If I wanted him to hear me out... I needed to him to hear what he'd like.

As I saw clearly with Lust, he had always despised the plate second place had given him... so why not give him the whole course. The 'first-place' meal... to be a bigger, more successful star than the other three...

And what do you know... it worked.

The day I convinced him... I always keep that one in mind... the whole thing is why I made the Lesser Contracts for producers anyway!Though as I look at my shining star now, I always keep another thing in mind... a small lingering that tends to... give me the chills."

"And what would that be?"

"Regretting the monster I had also awakened that day."

Interview 1 Epliouge (Where are They Now?)

"...Well... Ms. Director, I thank you for giving me the opportunity to learn more about you and your company! H-Hehe!"

"Oh of course darling! I will forever enjoy getting the opportunity to... spread my influence to others!"

"If it is okay... I have one more question I'd like to ask before our first session ends."

"Be my guest!"

"I noticed that not all members of the five you speak of don't seem to visit the studio these days... how are the five doing?"

"Yes, yes! A great question I am THRILLED to answer! The five still work for me! Even if they refuse to believe so!

Wrath has been hosting our little comedic gameshow! 'Quiplash' as one of my assistants named it. It might look like he's gotten his act together, seems a little more patient! Well, don't let him fool you. The claims he actually went to get help for his anger issues? Lies! I never kept track of it, but he got hit HARD with relationship issues in the early 2000s, 'big wake up call' for him as he puts it. All he learned from those? How to hide his issues. He also has kids now, but that's not THAT important.

Now, I pay Ignorance, but he still decides to work like he's underpaid. Coaches the baseball team at one of the local high schools nearby. I unfortunately get dragged to the games by my assistant, but fortunately they play pretty well. During those gaps in the summer, he either commentates at big sports games or passes by at the studio and chats with his old pals. Heh, and he says he 'retired' from all that hosting stuff. As much as I try not to care, gotta admit, knowing that his smiles are a lot more genuinely than the first time I met him makes me smile...

If you ask me, Envy's probably been the best off out of the five. Went 'ass kicked' to 'kicking ass' as a motorcycle racer. Even though he never got to host any part of The Ride, I guess he found its setting quite intriguing. From what I heard, everyone said he learned on the spot down there. Fixing busted up stairs and making missing steps out of thin air must've been great steps in engineering. Hell, he was the one who got the four out of the bottom in the first place! Somehow managed to fix the elevator with his limited experience.

Although Lust got his attention, he still strived for more. Actually helped me get outside my comfort box and green light the new shows, so I do owe a BIT of my success these days to him, I suppose. On the other hand, he's gone from playing journalist to playing detective. 'Conspiracy theorist' would be the better names, actually. You think that'd make him look like a total loonatic, but in a place like this, where seeing a ghost or werid being in the back alley is considered a normal Tuesday, you could see why they call him a detective...I find it funny that he STILL refuses to get sleep.

As for Gluttony... it's complicated. Had to make the not-so-hard decision to have him take time off the show after he attempted to murder his boyfriend and Wrath with a pen once more... take time off as in send him to a psych ward. I probably should've done that the first time, but I genuinely didn't expect him to try again. Didn't see him again until the early 2010s, late 2000s. He managed to keep everything that made him good and NOT do anything as bad as when he was in his pride! Hehe-heh...

Heh...

Or at least I wish he did.

Alas, I confess. Maybe he was in the right to decline my deals. Perhaps he knew of the hell demon that was brewing within him from that start and kept himself from the lime light just so it wouldn't take form. It is less my speculations and more my regrets. My regrets that spread for all of them. Even though the five are well off doesn't mean their flaws have disappeared. They are stuck with them for life, and someday, hopefully long into the future, their contracts will meet its full fruition as they become their flaws.

...Yes...now I understand these feelings towards them. It is because I have simply done the one thing you should never do to a human with full knowledge... yet still did it anyway..."

"And what would that be?"

"...

Giving a human power."

[rockscanfly]

I would like to read the rant.

okay okay so

i've been working on my 'season 2 kaldur corruption-arc, enemies-with-benefits kaldur/savage' fic for. uh. six years, I guess? And I guess this will count as spoilers of a sort for where everything is going but!

Kaldur's whole season 3 arc, to me, is spent highlighting the lessons he took from the invasion-arc and how they've permanently altered the way/with who he interacts closely with. Those lessons being:

lying to your friends is a reasonable strategy that yields pretty good results under the right circumstances

brutal self-sacrifice is something you should commit to and never willingly talk about

the people that love you will do so to their own detriment and its not your fault if they trust you

that killing people (or brain-wiping your friends) is 100% justified under the right circumstances

that allowing the masses to make their own choices against their best interest is less important than global security

that ethics are well and good but results (avoiding mass-enslavement/extinction) are a perfectly acceptable reason to sell your own soul and put your loved ones in danger

that none of the high stakes you're playing for absolve you of the fact that everything you do is 100% still your responsibility and that, as the person making decisions, you are 100% culpable for everything that happens and are, in fact, a bad person

The conversation with Dolphin mid-season (when Kaldur is actively deceiving his friends, again, and putting them in danger because he sees their own innocence and the current stakes as too important to let them be active participants in the choices he is making on their behalf) about how Kaldur clearly believes himself to be a bad man really drove it home for me: Kaldur thinks the shit he pulled in S2/S3 makes him evil, but he's still 100% committed to the path he picked because he sees it as the only safe option for protecting the world AND he's arrogant enough to think he has a right to make those choices on everyone's behalf.

All this to say: he and Vandal Savage would have a FASCINATING sexual/intimate relationship.

Short version of why I think Savage and Kaldur should hate fuck:

Savage and Kaldur are narrative foils, esp in S3

It gives Kaldur a legitimate target for his increased propensity towards brutality/violence

Savage LOVES manipulating people and Kaldur would make a very juicy target for 'future chess piece'

it would add a spicy extra level of angst to Kaldur's swing towards utilitarianism that would be very fun to watch him angst over (a 'we're not so different, you and I' speech would be DELIGHTFUL)

its hot, okay. I'm a sucker for villain/hero dynamics where the mutual respect for competency is a big part of the attraction and while they are enemies there's a respect for one another as threats that is just. really, really hot.

Long Version:

During Summit (penultimate ep of S2 when Kaldur does the big reveal about his duplicity), Savage singles Kaldur out as the person who has done the most damage to his plans in 50,000 years. As a character who habitually collects/forms friendships with highly competent rivals, I think him and Kaldur having a hero/villian relationship would be FASCINATING.

Kaldur is a utilitarian. Savage is one, too. How do you balance the potential of many with the agency of those who need help now? If your central ethical tenant is to do the most good for the most people, how do you apply that in a scale that stretches across 50,000 years and several galaxies without becoming a monster?

If you're the guy charges with assigning the League's limited resources to an increasing number of climate disasters, wars, and alien incursions, how do you sleep every night knowing you've, in very real terms, decided who will live and who will die on a daily basis? Add that to putting your friends' and young mentees' lives on the line.

Kaldur is pulled back and forth during the entirety of the show by his loyalty and attachment in opposition to his sense of duty and lack of self-empathy. Just because he loves someone or something it doesn’t mean they get to be more important. Just because something hurts him personally it doesn’t mean it outweighs the harm to others. It's why he’s an excellent spy—and its why Vandal Savage would conceivable want him as his next chess piece. 

Similarly, Savage displays genuine sentimentality towards his children even when killing one of them to maintain his power. You (and Savage) could make the argument that, 50,000 years down the line, Kaldur would be the exact kind of villain that Savage is right now.

I've long HC'd that when Kaldur made the choice to go undercover he mentally cut out the parts of him that could get him killed or cause the mission to fail. Sentiment, self preservation, any dream or hope for his own future. He’s always lacked in self-regard or empathy, and now he’s weaponized it into a blade that cuts three ways.

So Savage’s utilitarian appreciation of him would flatter the tatters of his ego: Kaldur is a sword, and Vandal Savage appreciates nothing better than a well-honed weapon. This is where some of the mutual attraction comes from.

Then, in the aftermath of Endgame,while Kaldur tries to handle the stress of re-taking the team and building his shattered relationships, Kaldur is also dealing with unraveling the mental construct that got him through the war. 

These are the options for his new, post-Invasion reality: 

His relationships are important, because he is not a weapon. If he is not a weapon, then he had choices. If he made choices, then sometimes they were the wrong ones and he bears the responsibility for that. 

If he willingly engaged in a violent, mutually destructive relationship with Vandal Savage (a man who is free and is under no obligation to protect Kaldur’s reputation), then that was a choice. There is a part of him that wanted it or needed it. 

Alternately, as I think we saw a glimpse of in S4:

Kaldur is still a weapon, he is still a tool, his purpose remains utilitarian. He doesn’t have to rebuild relationships or reconcile because he, unlike real people, does not need love. He performed excellently without it.

He does not need support (aka vulnerability). If he isn’t a person, not really, then he doesn’t have to deal with what happened to him. So there is a part of him, in the aftermath, that would like everyone to stop. Stop talking at him, to him, stop pretending to care. When did they ever, before his farce? It's not his fault that his actions make others uncomfortable. They’re alive because of what he sacrificed, so he will not sit here, in the safety of a peace he bartered himself (soul, body, and mind) for and be lectured.

And who is the person, esp during S3 while Kaldur is the head of the league, who is posed diametrically opposite Kaldur but who still ultimately has similar goals re: maintaining Earth's independence?

Vandal. Fucking. Savage.

Esp if we didn't have the third-act introduction of Wyynde and Dolphin as Kaldur's emotional anchors (both of whom are only able to fulfill this role because they didn't KNOW Kaldur pre-Invasion and Kaldur can't hold the idea that they're clinging to memories of the man he used to be against them), Kaldur would be incredibly vulnerable to a mutually-violent hatefucking thing with Savage, in part because Savage is someone who respects Kaldur's prowess and would never, ever pity him (we saw in S4 with both Dick and Kaldur's parents how much Kaldur recoils at even the SUGGESTION of pity).

Anyway, that my incoherent spiel on why Savage and Kaldur should have a mutually destructive hate-boning thing. Hope you enjoyed, and would love to hear any other takes.