I have been obsessed with Danganronpa for over a year now and every song I listen to I imagine as Danganronpa…
so I’m making that Tumblr’s problem!
Edit: I have now made a playlist for every Danganronpa character! You can find my Spotify link under the cut. If you have any songs you think I should add, let me know!
Since Tumblr only allows 10 playlists per post, here’s my Spotify account for any future playlists I make:
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Oh no! Someone banished the evil necromancer into the internet and they reanimated all the dead memes as a terrible army! All your base are belong to them!
The Blackened- Participants of the Danganronpa killing games to kill within the confines of the game
A poor, pitiful girl is trapped in the lions' den, surrounded by 16 Blackened. Death has claimed them one by one, and yet, Despair persists. In a twisted labyrinth of memories and murders, haunted by what she cannot know, Ryoko Otonashi persists in a game that may cross the line between life and death in more way than one. Hell, it seemed, was already on Earth.
The following excerpt is an experiment, playing around with a fangan concept I came up with for the above pitch and attempting to write an opening scene of sorts. The story may or may not be continued in the future.
Sitting in an unfamiliar classroom, a redheaded, red-eyed girl awoke with her head resting on a wooden desk. Body heavy from sleep, she pushed herself up slowly. What am I doing here? Was I.... sleeping in class? Is that... something I tend to do?
She tried to remember.
She tried to remember.
She tried to remember.
No memories came.
Huh? But doesn't everybody have memories? The girl tried to think. Ah, but maybe I'm somebody who has memory problems.... Yes, that must be it. If I can't remember anything, then I must be somebody who can't remember anything. Hence why I can't remember where I am or how I got there. She nodded with satisfaction. And if that's the case, then I probably wrote something down for myself.
The girl reached looked into her desk, and found a large notebook and a sharp pencil. She pulled them out and read the book's cover- Ryoko Otonashi's Memory Notebook. Aha! If I'm someone who can't remember things, and Ryoko Otonashi's Memory Notebook is in the desk I'm sitting at, then Ryoko Otonashi's Memory Notebook must be my memory notebook. Making me Ryoko Otonashi!
Ryoko Otonashi opened the notebook. The first page had a drawing of a teenage girl with red hair and red eyes. The drawing was labeled "Ryoko Otonashi." Ryoko nodded happily, taking a strand of red hair in her hands and looking between it and the drawing. Yep, I'm *definitely* Ryoko Otonashi. The drawing had some information written beside it, too.
SHSL- Analyst
Age- 17
D.O.B.- 24/12
Likes- Matsuda, Home Alone
Dislikes- What happened to Matsuda
Ryoko's breath caught at the name Matsuda. Ryoko Otonashi likes Matsuda, but something bad must have happened to them. Then....
Who is Matsuda?
She tried to remember.
She tried to remember.
She tried to remember.
No memories came.
There was a scraping sound. Ryoko turned to the sound and saw the classroom door sliding open as a shaky, squealing voice called out nervously- "Erm, hello?"
Ryoko stood up, sleep forgotten. The door had been opened by an excessively fat boy with a cleft lip. He looked to be about the same age as Ryoko- maybe a year older?- and wore thin wire glasses, which he fiddled with upon seeing her. "Say, you-"
"Are you Matsuda?"
"Hueh?" The boy seemed to lose his question, lowering his hand. "Er, no. I am known by many names, none of which are Matsuda." He stepped into the room fully, planting his fists on his hips proudly. "I am the Beginning and the End, The Alpha and the Omega, the Super High School Level Doujin Artist! I am...." He stuck a hand in the air, pointer and thumb extended. "....Hifumi Yamada!"
"Ah!" Ryoko quickly scooped up her book and pencil and began writing, repeating some words to herself as she did. "Yamada.... Doujin..... Weeb...."
"Hmph!" Hifumi crossed his arms. "I'd hardly call my love of anime my most notable trait. I am an accomplished author of human desires in its purest form, using the world of fiction to do so!" He pushed up his glasses. "They don't give the Super High School Level title to just anyone, you know."
Ryoko looked up. "Ah, so that's what that stands for."
"Hm?" Hifumi looked at her again, more puzzled now. "Does that mean you're a student here, too?"
She looked around the classroom. "Is this in a school for Super High School Level people?"
Hifumi put a finger to his chin. "Hmmm..... If you don't even know that, then how did you end up here to begin with?"
In response, she closed her notebook and showed him the cover.
"'Ryoko Otonashi's Memory Notebook'. What does that mean?"
"It means that my name is Ryoko Otonashi," she explained, smiling, "and I write my memories in this book."
"I see.... Very intriguing. Then I suppose you don't remember how you got in?"
She shook her head. Then she looked around the room. "Say, are we in a classroom?"
"Precisely right! This is a classroom in Hope's Peak- on the first floor, to be more specific. These are most strange circumstances we find ourselves in, Ms. Otonashi."
Ryoko opened up her notebook to the next page. "Why is that, Yamada?"
"Well, I had thought I was on the third floor with- a friend of mine, yet for some reason, I woke up in the classroom next door. Although...." His face scrunched up in thought. "I believe Ms. Asahina was there as well, though I can't seem to remember what happened in the interim. Yes, strange circumstances indeed." He looked up at her again. "Say, Ms. Otonashi.... Are you certain you remember nothing of how you got here?"
"Hm...." She flipped back in the book. "It seems I got here by... waking up at a desk."
"...Before that, Ms. Otonashi," Hifumi groaned.
She flipped back another page. Then she looked up at him. "Do you know Matsuda?"
"I'm not sure I know anybody by that name." He still seemed confused.
"Hmm." She made a note on his page- doesn't know Matsuda. Then she looked back up. "So, what is this place?"
"Oh dear... Your memory truly has failed you, hasn't it? This is a classroom inside Hope's Peak Academy. ..Do you know what Hope's Peak is?"
"Ah, it's the place where we are! This is a classroom there."
"Not incorrect. Hope's Peak Academy is a government-funded high school for the nation's prodigies!" He stepped closer to watch her write. "It's got about 78 years of history or so, and accepts students exclusively through a scouting program- well, until recently, I suppose, but that's beside the point- Main Course students like myself are scouted to enhance their talents. A student can excel in just about anything so long as the school's talent scouts and the board deems it worthy, hence why a doujin artist such as myself can be accredited here- ah, that's not how you spell it..."
"Oh, how is it spelled?"
"Eh, it's....."
He corrected her spelling and let her finish writing, occasionally repeating himself when she couldn't remember something. When she was done, he grinned. "So then, Ms. Otonashi, is that jogging your memory?"
"Hm...." She closed her eyes and concentrated.
She tried to remember.
She tried to remember.
She tried to remember.
But no memories came.
She opened her eyes and, feeling a presence to her left, turned and nearly jumped. "Wah!!"
"Hueh?" It was a fat boy with wire glasses. "Is something wrong, Ms. Otonashi?"
"Um..." She opened up her book and flipped. Hifumi Yamada. She sighed in relief. "I'm sorry, um... Yamada?"
"Jeez. If this is how quickly you forget things all the time, it's a wonder we were able to talk as long as we did." He scratched his head as he thought. "Maybe it's better not to try too hard to remember anything. Just keep writing stuff down in that book, okay?"
The girl looked at her book's cover. "Ah, good idea, Yamada," Ryoko agreed.
"Yes, a splendid idea. Heh, I often have those," he said smugly. Then he snapped his fingers. "Oh! You'd had a reaction to the 'Super High School Level' title. Do you have one, then?"
She flipped through her book. "It says Analyst. I'm a Super High School Level Analyst."
"Hueh? You're a Super High School Level Analyst and you can't remember anything?" He tugged at his collar anxiously. "That must be awfully inconvenient."
She shrugged happily. "I suppose I wouldn't know. After all, it's not like I would remember if it bothered me."
"Heh, that's an optimistic way to look at things." He nodded twice. "Yes, I believe you and I can get along just fine, Ms. Otonashi!"
"Alright, but you should know I already like Matsuda."
"Hueh? But you asked if I was Matsuda when I first walked in!"
She frowned. "If they were important enough to write down, then I must like-like them." She tapped at the name on the page.
"Let me see...." He adjusted his glasses and read the whole thing. Under his breath, she could just hear his muttering:
"The 24th... Isn't that...?" He gulped as his eyes reached the bottom of the profile. "Hey, let's not worry about Matsuda, alright? How's about we go find the others?"
"Others?" She took the book back.
"My classmates. There should be 7- no, 8 others still here. We should check the repository on the third floor first. I'll show you the way; come on!" He walked over to the door. "Odd. I don't remember closing this... Urgh!" He pushed at the door with all his might. "The door's jammed. Ah, but don't worry, Ms. Otonashi, I'll get it!"
Ryoko watched him struggle with the door for a while. Hm.... That door seems to be really stuck. Even if he isn't very strong, for a sliding door to get caught like that, there must be something jammed in to keep it shut. "May I try, Yamada?"
"Hah....Huah...... Yeah, sure," he heaved, stepping aside. She set her notebook on the desk, grabbed the handle, and started to wiggle the door- not side to side, but forward and back, slowly dragging it to the right. Whatever was on the other side started to give, the door slowly opening. Hifumi watched, embarrassed. "Clever, Ms. Otonashi," he told her. "Most clever indeed....?"
The door finally slid enough for a sliver of the sunlight outside to make its way into the classroom. The floor was covered in sand, and- Sand? Sun? Ah, this door must lead outside, Ryoko reasoned. And then the sand gave way, letting her push open the door all the way as Hifumi's mouth hung agape.
"Yamada, you can show me where to go now!" As she picked up her book, she read the last thing she'd transcribed- going to the repository on the third floor. "Are we going to another building?"
"The- there wasn't one," Hifumi managed to say.
Ryoko looked down at the sandy ground- there's a shadow- then up at the sky. The sun looked crimson red, and the water further out was dark, so dark it almost black from a distance. The sand was tinted pink- probably reflecting the sky, Ryoko thought, based on the white grains that had made their way into the classroom- and the air smelled a little too salty. She looked at Hifumi. "You can lead the way."
"I- Okayyyy," he said anxiously, stepping outside- and immediately, the glint of a blade jut out from outside, left of the door. "HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!"
The blade passed right by his neck, horrifiyingly close without so much as touching the skin he nearly jumped out of. He stumbled back, throwing up his arms in surrender so fast he lost balance and falling flat on his butt. "Stop! Don't stab, don't stab, pleeeeeeeease!!!!"
The blade's owner, meanwhile, had come fully into view, tip of the blade following his neck without touching it. That blade was attached to a terrifying woman, with silver hair flowing behind her head and cold, calculating red eyes fixing him in place. Said eyes glanced up at Ryoko.
"Who are the two of you? What has happened to my Young Master?"
“Ah!” Ryoko clapped the book shut. “Matsuda!”
The girl’s brows furrowed. “I’ve no patience for games.” She inched the blade closer to the poor boy’s neck. “My Young Master, Kuzuryuu Fuyuhiko. Where have you taken him?”
“Huh?” Ryoko looked down at the fallen boy between them. “Say, is your name Kuzuryu Fuyuhiko?”
“Noo-hoo-hoooo!” he bawled. “Please don’t kill me Miss, I don’t know anything I swear, I don’t know anything at all…..” His face was completely tear-stricken by now.
The girl watched him for a moment. Then, coming to a decision, she sheathed her sword. “My apologies. Things are… unclear right now, and I am to ensure my Young Master’s safety.” She looked back at Ryoko. “My name is not Matsuda. It’s Pekoyama. Peko Pekoyama, Super High School Level Swordswoman.”
“I see.” She hurriedly jotted that down. “Peko… Sword…”
The boy got to his feet, wiping his face with his sleeve and making kind of obnoxious snorting noises. “Please don’t hurt us.”
Peko closed her eyes and folded her arms. “If you are no threat to my Young Master, then I have no reason to harm you.”
“Oka- Okay.” He snorted one last time. “Um, may I ask how we got here?”
She opened her eyes. “I’m afraid I can’t answer that. The circumstances under which Monomi brought even me here are still hidden. She claims it was a school trip, but-”
“Monomi?” the boy asked. “Say, this Monomi… it wouldn’t be any similar to Monokuma, would it?”
Peko’s eyes narrowed. “You know Monokuma?”
Ryoko watched the two of them talk. Hm. Are Monomi and Monokuma in my notebook? She flipped through the pages, but couldn’t find mention of either one. Tuning back in, they seemed to be less hostile.
“...brought us here to combine the games,” the boy was saying, “but why? And more importantly, how???”
“Likely by the same manner of magic Monomi has,” Peko said. “She seemed to have the powers of both transportation and transmogrification before Monokuma usurped her.”
“I see.” The boy grit his teeth. “Still, that leaves us with why?”
Ryoko opened her notebook- Hifumi- and chimed in, “Maybe we should go to the repository on the 3rd floor, Yamada.”
Hifumi shook his head. “I sincerely doubt we’ll be able to find it. From what Ms. Pekoyama’s said, it would seem we’re somewhere entirely new.”
“Jabberwock Island,” Peko told them.
“Right. Thank you, Ms. Pekoyama.”
Ryoko looked again at Peko. “Do you know who Matsuda is?”
She shook her head. “None of my classmates were named Matsuda, dead or alive.”
“Oh, I see….. Huh?????”
Dead or alive.
Dead or alive.
Dead or alive.
A memory surfaced.
-Yasuke Matsuda was bleeding. He’d run at her, despair in his expression, betrayal and heartbreak and anger and regret. Her hands were stained with blood, a dagger clutched in her hand. She’d pulled it out of his side. He was collapsing in front of her. He was dying in front of her. He was being killed in front of her. Her body wasn’t hers. Her laughter wasn’t hers. Her ear-splitting grin wasn’t hers. Her heartache wasn’t hers. “Puhuhuhuhuhuhu…”-
Ryoko’s eyes rolled back in her head, and she started to sway.
“Hueh? Ms. Otonashi??” Hifumi cried as Peko darted forward, catching her just before she fell. She looked at him. “Does this happen to her often?”
“I don’t- I’m afraid I’ve no idea. We’d only just met,” he fretted.
“Hm.” She gently lowered Ryoko to the floor. “Best we both stay with her so nothing happens. ..Just in case.”
“Right.” He sat down quickly, cross-legged as he looked at her unconscious form.
Peko watched him sit. “Perhaps there’s another game combining with ours as well, then.”
Hifumi looked at her face- her oddly familiar face- and he chewed on his thumbnail. “Yes, perhaps.”
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Queer unity has been trying as hard as possible to downplay any possible transfem issue. Pay gap adding up to thousands a year? Not a big deal. V coding? Never mention it. Trans women are much more likely to be sent to an early grave than their male counterparts? Stop bringing that up. Trans people collaborating with kiwifarms? Just internet drama.
You know what IS an important issue? Getting called a fucking birthday boy. They get all hands on deck about it. They will write VERY long posts about how important it is you not use it, and that anyone who does must be punished as severely as possible
There's only one explanation. The lives of trans women are so worthless to them, so fucking disposable, that a trans man getting invalidated is actually more important to them. That's how these people, who demand we view them as family and allies, who think we should be ready to die for them, view us.
I know people who treat house flies with more respect than that.
forever reminded of this fucking yt reply i got in a thread abt transmisogyny, this kinda attitude is so common. even when you do bring up shit that disproportionately or exclusively affects transfems the response is "what abt me" or downplaying it
"Damn, v-coding sounds terrible... I hope they don't do that to trans men, too!"
Because obviously it's *bad* when it happens to trans women, but oh dear god, THINK OF THE TRANS MEN that this might hypothetically happen to in a different situation!!
I'm going to fucking cry. Trans women are so unvalued, these people look at the reality that trans women have to wake up to every single day, and they respond with "yeah, it's terrible when the sex slave gets raped. That must really hurt! But god, imagine if a HUMAN was raped instead? HORROR!"
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please read this even if you're not indian. especially if you're not indian.
you've seen the jokes. india is "dirty", indians are "everywhere", why don't they fix their own country. ok. let me tell you why, and what's happening right now while nobody's watching.
first, the history you skipped: britain ruled india for two centuries and drained it. economist utsa patnaik's research estimates around $45 trillion in today's money was taken. the india that got independence in 1947 was one of the poorest countries on earth. every "why is india like this" question starts there. you don't get to profit off a robbery and then mock the crime scene.
now, what's happening RIGHT NOW:
in may the question paper for NEET leaked. that's the national medical entrance exam. over 2.2 million students took it. cancelled. years of studying, families' savings poured into coaching, gone overnight because someone sold the paper. students died by suicide after. these were kids who wanted to be doctors.
and out of that came a protest movement. a gen z group called the cockroach janta party, started by a 30 year old named abhijeet dipke, got 22 million instagram followers within DAYS. they've been doing a sit-in at jantar mantar in delhi demanding education minister dharmendra pradhan resign.
and then there's sonam wangchuk. if you've watched 3 idiots, he's the real engineer the character was based on. built solar schools in ladakh. invented ice stupas so himalayan villages have water. spent his whole life on education. he's 59 and he's been on hunger strike for 17+ days now. reporters went to see him this week and he was too weak to talk. and the troll armies are calling him "anti national" and "foreign funded". a man starving himself for other people's children. that's the thing here, anyone who asks a question is suddenly a traitor.
it's not one incident, it's everywhere you look:
• infrastructure worth thousands of crores failing within months of the ribbon cutting. tunnels collapsing in regions where heavy rain is a guarantee, not a surprise.
• youth unemployment near 10% for ages 15 to 29, 13.6% in cities. in a country of 1.42 billion where more than half the population is young.
• only about the top 3% of indians earn above 10 lakh a year. meanwhile billionaire wealth keeps ballooning and the headlines celebrate it.
• manipur burned for over two years. an ethnic conflict, tens of thousands displaced, and the prime minister barely said the word manipur while it happened.
• journalists raided. critics' houses bulldozed. activists sitting in jail for years without trial under laws like UAPA. our press freedom ranking has cratered.
• even the petrol is a fight now, ethanol blending pushed through while drivers complain about their engines and get no straight answers.
and through all of it, the PM, who came to power on religious polarisation (americans, sound familiar?), travels abroad for photo ops and has not held one single open press conference in over a decade. not one.
what i'm asking:
if you're not indian: share this. our media mostly won't cover any of it because the big outlets are owned by the same billionaires the government serves. the only reason wangchuk's fast is getting any coverage is people refusing to look away.
if you ARE indian: speak up even if you're comfortable. especially if you're comfortable. join the protests. add to this, correct me, translate it. staying quiet is a choice when nothing in this post touches your life.
india is not "dirty". india was robbed, and it's being robbed again, from the inside this time. but it's also the country where a 59 year old will starve for strangers' kids and 22 million young people will rally behind a party literally named after cockroaches, because cockroaches survive everything.
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Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
genius. it creates energy clones of itself to gather resources, while the main body stays alert and safe. and if i attack, it can simply swap bodies with one of its clones
Been stuck in a Danganronpa hole since Halloween 2024 @gotlockedout - Tumblr Blog | Tumlook
