supergaybabyjail | It's time for Round Two!

It's time for Round Two!

DANGAN ROLEPLAY KINK MEME

GUIDELINES/RULES:

All requests- smut, fluff, gen, or otherwise (alternate murders, anyone?)- are welcome so long as it's about DRRP.

Fic and art fills are all good.

This is for all rounds of DRRP, canon or gimmick. Intermingled cast requests ("what if so-so and so-so from this and that round met?") are acceptable.

Stay anon because it's funner that way.

Use proper trigger/content warnings for sensitive and/or offensive subjects, just like you would in DRRP proper. If you don't, it will be deleted.

This is a judge free zone; however, be mindful of character ages, esp. in regards to the younger characters.

If you do not want your character to be involved with the smut or things that make you uncomfortable please contact me. A list is being prepared to remind everyone.

Respect player wishes if they ask to not have their character be in smut, or anything out of their comfort zone. Again, comments in volation will be deleted.

HAVE FUN. If any of these rules are broken let me know on this account, or on plurk (demidemonLove) and I will take care of it as soon as I can!

Original Meme Post by:

foolreversed

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Unused executions for the R3 characters, go. Break your own hearts.

Monaka stared aghast at the stack of paper her kitty had brought to her. There was thankfully very little of the strange cat-language (http://wiki.puella-magi.net/Deciphering_the_runes) on it, so it was clear what was intended, and the few letters were clear enough for her to read.

POPULATION: GROWING

Following that were shakily drawn, child-like depictions of a small horde of Monobears, all dressed in an assortment of colorful shirts and milling about as Isabelle sits, tied to a tree (http://animalcrossing.wikia.com/wiki/Plaza). One monobear, dressed a little more intricately (http://www.ssbwiki.com/images/e/eb/Villager_SSB4.png) than the others (the artist seemed to have a few problems with pants) stepped up, holding a paper with the words 'Keep Town Beautiful' hastily added in. Still smiling, the mono-villager tears it up.

It starts to show slowly. First a single weed peeks through the cracked soil near the tree. Then two. Then five. Thirty. The weeds rapidly start sprouting out of control, quickly being followed by red flowers (http://animalcrossing.wikia.com/wiki/Rafflesia), the foliage creeping higher and higher, the canine mayoral assistant seeming to be in obvious distress as the tree starts getting overtaken by weeds. Then the monotownsfolk pitch in, starting to pull boots, tires, and empty cans out of a nearby stream...

Once the drawing-Isabelle is completely buried alive by the detritus, Monaka can't take it any more, tossing the sheaf of papers back at her helper. "Monaka can't do something like that, Kyuubey-chan! Isabelle never did anything wrong! Who would want to hurt an adorable puppy like her?"

You could have let her go, you know. Just because she never did anything wrong doesn't mean she won't, came the telepathic response even as Monaka fished for a lighter. No, this execution was... bad. It wasn't even her style, she didn't make it! Kyuubey probably just hates dogs, it makes sense, cats and dogs never got along, but she'd teach them to get along...

Do as you will. You know I am here to assist.

oh right anons can't do hyperlinks i keep forgetting that

ISABEEEEEEEEEEEELLE

The room Tsukiyama is in is dimly-lit, just enough that the walls are visible; there's a small table in front of him, a single candle lit in the center, its small light bouncing off the floral centerpiece next to it – a thin vase with purple hyacinths made of ribbon stuffed into it. The chair he's sitting in is high-backed and bolted to the floor, heavy steel restraints at his wrists ensuring that he can't go anywhere.

A Monobear dressed in a black trenchcoat and veil, pale purple wig settled on his plush head in an obvious imitation of someone Tsukiyama finds familiar*, steps forward from the darkness; the platter he's served is covered, but as soon as the silver lid is removed it's obvious something is deeply wrong, from Tsukiyama's reaction – the meat in front of him is thankfully unidentifiable just by sight but he jerks back, shaking his head, before something seems to hit him all at once and his eyes shift in appearance, red irises shining bright against black sclera as the hunger overtakes him.

The restraints at his wrists prevent him from using his hands, but they don't prevent him from leaning forward over the table and eating; there isn't nearly enough of it to be satisfying – there's just a few bites, just enough to rile him – and he snaps it up quickly, and there's very little hesitation when the second course is presented. It's done in much the same way (the covered platter, the reveal), and there's there's next to no recoil or attempt to stop himself, he just eats. There's even less when it comes to the third – either it's more to his liking, or he's so ravenous he doesn't care anymore.

Tsukiyama's breathing is heavy while he sits back and waits for the fourth, dutifully delivered to him by the veiled servant; this one is larger, heavier, and MonoKanae waits until his "master" is looking up before removing the lid covering it and moving to stand behind the chair confining him.

There are three items on it; a mask**, a black hairband with flowers on it***, and a camera****.

It isn't immediate but after a second recognition quickly dawns in his expression; his kakugan deactivate and his eyes return to their usual appearance, and it's in that moment that he jerks forward as a set of barbed, vinelike appendages pierce through the back of the chair, originating from MonoKanae and impaling him clear through in four locations – the heart, the stomach, the back of the neck and that spot just below his right shoulderblade where his kagune leaves his body.

His gaze casts around one more time – as though he's looking for someone, seeking someone out, trying to get some reassurance that at the very least he's not alone – but there's no one there; there's just the dimly-lit room standing empty in his line of sight and the personal belongings in front of him, and it isn't long before his body goes slack.

* http://i.imgur.com/H6t4jNt.png
** http://i.imgur.com/3NZOLEK.png
*** http://i.imgur.com/EB2Soxi.png
**** http://i.imgur.com/f958wW0.png

Silver hadn't gone down elegantly; he'd yelled, challenged everyone to prove it was him, then scoffed at the idea that he could possibly care about anyone here when they were all pitted against each other from the start. They're enemies, they should be treated like enemies, and it's absolutely hilarious that anyone thought he wouldn't try to throw them under the bus. Now hurry up and step over my life, so that you can be one step closer to making it out of this place.

In reality, some of the more perceptive members of the group could see through his act; he's terrified of dying, of what's going to happen to his world, of what's going to happen to the rest of them, but he's not allowed to have any kind of peace of mind, is he? He made his choice. It's time for his execution. He drops his Pokéballs to the ground before he votes for himself.

A few Monobears (one in a poofy white hat and ponytails, the other with a yellow and black cap and a telling set of goggles) pull him onto an arena that he doesn't quite understand the significance of, but anyone with an ounce of franchise recognition should see as the all too familiar Pokémon Stadium. The ground is made of dirt instead of the typical green material field. Some 8-bit music (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=euJpDv4tIdk) fills the background.

Another Monobear stands tall on the other side of the arena; it's dressed in a long black trench coat and its face is covered with a black fedora; the Monobear is accompanied by yet another one dressed up to look like a Beedrill; the sharp stingers are present in place of the Monobear's arms.

The recognition is instant; Silver looks away from the bear based on his father and back to the ones based on his friends instead in time to see the two of them absolutely crushed by a landslide of rocks that fall from the air. His eyes widen more than he would like, but he doesn't get much time to react before a bunch of rocks fall down on him as well and completely crush the lower half of his body.

He doesn't get the chance to scream out in pain; the shock is too much for him to really process that his legs and a good chunk of his torso have been flattened, the nerves that should tell him he's in pain have been completely crushed. But there's still the sound of his own bones being shattered, clear enough to him despite it being partially covered by the 8-bit music for everyone else. It's disgusting to listen to, but he has a moment to realize that he's still alive, he still has a chance to make it out, and despite the fact that he's completely pinned by a lower half of him made useless, he makes a desperate instinctive attempt to crawl free using his arms.

The attempt and brief sliver of hope is short lived; the GiovanniBear and his Beardrill make their way over to Silver in grand strides, and before long, the two sharp stinger appendages are both placed in front of Silver's neck in the shape of an X.

He's allowed a moment for his eyes to widen before Giovannibear signals for Beardrill to move; the Beardrill pushes its stinger arms forward, into Silver's neck, and although a timely "censor" Pokéball emerges to keep anyone from watching the beheading, the 8-bit music goes completely quiet so everyone can hear the sound.

NOOO SILVEEEEEEEER

Had she never drawn him the Hanged Man?

∅∅∅
3:41 A.M.

The frantic knocking turned out to be Mr. Tsukiyama, of all people, all disheveled nerves and anguish, and Meridiana was a moment frightened for herself—alone, at this hour, with a man so distraught and the walls so thick. Then he told her of a body, and she remembered where she was and how many more frightening things the witching hours that led into week’s end might hold.

It was Mr. D-Pops, he confessed, and her first thought was Dave and her second was how on earth…? The third thought never came, because then Mr. Tsukiyama told her you can live and no one has to know and it was all a flurry after that, hand-wringing and preparation and her own horror high and fluttering in her throat, knowing what had been done. Knowing what she was about to do. Knowing that Dave would be devastated, again, and yet, more than anything, that he needed her to do this.

He needed her. She wanted him. For the first time, she knew she had to live.

(She’d thought about it, when the bear revealed his new trick for the week—one’s restoration to peak physical form, however the individual in question should define it. The recovery of special powers, return of lost senses, removal of scars—renewal of health.

Of course she’d thought about it. The thought burned sickly within her. But the fact remained: Meridiana Everett was incapable of hurting anyone, let alone killing; let alone something as horrible as murdering one of her fellow captives, after all they’d been through together in this devilish hotel.

And anyway, if somehow she managed it—through poison, maybe, or pushing someone small down the stairs, as sickening as that thought was—if somehow she foiled the dwindling group’s investigation and won her case—still, she’d lose.

Because if she won against the class at trial, she’d lose Dave.)

Meridiana’s hands shook, and she was clumsy with her laces. Mr. Tsukiyama had gone to make other preparations; he would return for her when Mr. D-Pops… when the body was ready. When he was sure they wouldn’t be discovered.

Except…

Except, then he didn’t come back. She waited in terrible anticipation, hands clasped tremblingly in her lap like no doll’s, no matter how finely crafted, could, and still, Mr. Tsukiyama did not return. This… work of his, how long should it take? She didn’t know, and somewhere, an unheard clock must have been ticking. Within her, other girls’ flesh was dying, and time was the one thing she didn’t have.

Twenty minutes must have passed like that. She swallowed.

And then she screwed her courage to the sticking-place, gathered her teddy bear—her bunny, stuffed as she was—and stepped into the hall.

Mr. Tsukiyama was nowhere to be found, and she was afraid to call out. It was Thursday night, after all, or Friday morning—that nameless space between them where anything might happen and all the worst things did. If someone else was creeping about tonight…

She forced her bare feet to move and soon found herself at the bottom of the stairs. The elevator wouldn’t be working… and of course, there were those frightful monster-machines that so unnerved Dave, the ones they’d had to avoid the night of the karaoke party… her heart ached, remembering how Maya had smiled that night.

Holding on to Maya’s bravery, Meridiana stirred her frail, decaying body to ascend.

Where might Mr. Tsukiyama have moved… it? The container that once held Mr. D-Pops, now nothing more than a source of materials from which a wretched like her might draw and yet survive—perhaps the first aid room, the infirmary? They might find the tools necessary for the deed there, surely. On failing legs, she made her way there.

“Mr. Tsukiyama…?”

No one was there. But on the cot, yes, there was a form, large and unmoving. Meridiana, alone, in the dark, in the witching hours where victims and murderers moved, stood there in the entrance to the first aid room, waiting for someone to tell her what to do, and then turned on the light.

It wasn’t Mr. Tsukiyama. It was what she’d been expecting.

Without anyone to guide her hand to the knife, Meridiana clapped her hand over her mouth, stifled the scream that might otherwise escape, and fled Mr. D-Pops’ unmoving, battered body.

∅∅∅
4:10 A.M.

The first door she tried, of course, was Dave’s.

But he didn’t sleep there, did he? Sobbing quietly, she covered her mouth again and tried to think, then turned on her heel once more—her legs felt they might fail any moment—and knocked on the one door she’d rather not: 115. Mr. D-Pops.

“Dave, please—please, Dave, you musn’t…”

Was that her? It must have been. No one else was there to stumble so clumsily over the words. Meridiana didn’t realize she was crying until the door opened and she couldn’t quite make out the figure beyond it, tall and pale and sleepy, rubbing his eyes.

“Mh…” And then he was awake, still tall and pale through her tears, dressed in soft red, and she fell into his arms as he opened them, as if their lives, hers and Dave’s, had been choreographed for this. “Meridiana,” Dave said, and she could feel his anxiety rumble up from his chest to his throat, working the gears in him that might transmute his alarm to action. “What’s wrong? Is—”

“There’s—there’s, a, th-there’s a body.” It fell from her lips like a steel weight and hit the floor between them. She worked her fingers into Dave’s shirt and felt his tighten on the back of her gown. “The—the announcement…”

Hadn’t gone off, but Dave held her tightly. “Needs three people,” he said, understanding, and she nodded, confirming. “Who?” he asked, and she could feel the despair start to sink into place beneath his fear. D-Pops wasn’t there.

“The infirmary,” she said, not answering, and he understood that, too, because he swallowed and took a breath.

“We gotta wake everyone,” he said, and held her hand.

Together, they roused the hall, or rather she clung to his hand as he pounded on the few truly locked doors left. Only Tsukiyama didn’t answer. Miss Isabelle, Allie, Haruka, Ms. Futo—Ryoji and Ryuunosuke. Silver. A few—Futo, Ryuunosuke, Silver—rushed off immediately. Allie lingered a moment, worrying—for her, Meridiana realized—before her rightfully greater worry for the missing drew her away, too.

Dave stayed, hand warm in hers, eyes—he’d pushed up his shades, when?—concerned.

“Go,” she said, still shaking, but Ryoji was coming to her elbow, and she knew Dave had to go and investigate. “I—I’ll be all right.”

But Silver returned to the top of the stairs before Dave could leave her.

“Wash’s alive,” he announced, nonplussed.

Everyone looked at Silver, then at each other. Then her. She couldn’t do much but blink.

“I mean, he’s seven kinds of beat up, but definitely still breathing. He’s a soldier, he’ll probably live,” Silver added, and Meridiana didn’t even know why this news so confused her. If Mr. D-Pops were alive, wasn’t that a good thing? But she’d been so sure…

“Where’s Tsukiyama?” he asked and derailed all her thoughts.

Or maybe it was Ryuunosuke’s wail that did it.

Silver’s attention snapped towards the other side of the second floor, the gym and pool, but as if he didn’t even have to think about it, he rushed down the stairs and scooped her into her arms. She squeaked, and Dave choked out, “Hey!” but Silver ignored both of them as he dashed right back up the stairs. Dave followed right at his shoulder, and this time, the stragglers ran along with them.

These were the facts, as Meridiana learned them later:

Ryuunosuke was the one to find Mr. Tsukiyama floating face-down in the pool. Monobear made the body discovery announcement when Futo and Allie joined him, about a minute before the downstairs group reached them.

Therefore, Mr. Tsukiyama—who’d knocked on her door not an hour before, ruined and still offering her consideration, assistance—was dead.

Mr. Tsukiyama was dead.

Monobear File

Victim: Shuu Tsukiyama

Location of body: Pool

Estimated time of death: 4:13 A.M.

Cause of death: Drowning

Wound diagram.

Pool: Clue Count 5/5

Before she fainted, she saw something dark and incomprehensible coiled around his arm, plunging into his exposed back—the murder weapon, she’d thought quite clearly, and then the rush of it all was quite too much and she sunk senselessly into Silver’s arms.

Thus, she hadn’t had time to notice the great amounts of water splashed all about one side of the pool, nor the heavy gouges in the tile around it. Allie described them as wild, but suggested they came from a blade rather than a beast’s claws—each mark was singular, without parallel lines beside it. Haruka found one half of a broken sword flung aside, but it was the dull blade of one of the Iron-Nicking Swords dispensed by the Monomono Machine. Nothing capable of doing such incredible damage to the floor.

There was no blood that they could see, but that didn’t discount the idea that some had dispersed in the pool. After all, the wound diagram in the Monobear file implied that some damage had been done to Mr. Tsukiyama’s eyes.

Ryuunosuke refused to let anyone else look at the body, eyes or otherwise. He dragged Mr. Tsukiyama out of the pool alone, ran a hand tenderly over the dark, shell-like ribbon, and simply knelt at his side, staring at the corpse with a strange expression on his face until the trial.

First Aid Room: Clue Count 5/5

After she’d fainted, Dave took her, and with Futo’s help, carried her back to the first aid room, where they stood guard over her and Mr. D-Pops and combed the small room for clues.

Mr. D-Pops was alive, but far from well. He’d sustained multiple heavy impacts, resulting in wide contusions and broken bones. They found his previously damaged head both freshly bleeding and freshly bandaged, surrounded by new bruising. Futo assumed he would not regain consciousness for at least a day.

The first aid room was otherwise pristine. Besides a roll of gauze apparently used to bandage Mr. D-Pops’s head, nothing was out of place nor missing.

Bar: Clue Count 5/5

Ryoji ushered a distraught Silver to the bar, hoping it would offer some distance from the scene of the murder. Unfortunately, it seemed a tornado had struck the bar. The piano was smashed, liquor bottles shattered, stools and chairs snapped like matchsticks. They found Mr. Tsukiyama’s maroon tie caught in the lid of the piano and Mr. D-Pops’s electronic handbook cracked on the floor. A small amount of blood had dried on the edge of the bar.

They also found a half-used roll of gauze cast aside carelessly on the floor.

Second Floor Hallway: Clue Count 5/5

Following a trail of dripped water from the pool, Isabelle found a vase belonging to Mr. Tsukiyama placed against the wall near the stairs. Having previously seen that it could hold any volume of liquid without getting any heavier, she checked inside and found the broken hilt of the iron-nicking sword. The jagged edge of what was left of the blade had blood on it.

Bizarrely, that was where the trail of water ended.

Tsukiyama’s Room: Clue Count ?/?

Since Ryuunosuke wouldn’t let anyone get near Mr. Tsukiyama’s body, not even for his handbook, Allie asked Monobear to unlock his room for her. What she saw there, she never brought to light.

∅∅∅
Almost as soon as she came to, finding her head on Dave’s shoulder and his arms curled warm around her, Monobear sounded the chime for the trial. Dave helped her gently to her feet.

“Are you all right,” he murmured as Futo waited for them in the doorway.

She felt her own hand’s dry, faltering coolness against the warmth of his palm. Resting her forehead against his chest, she whispered the truth in the privacy that only existed between them. “No.”

His fingers threaded themselves between hers. “I won’t let go,” he promised. Holding onto that, and holding onto Dave, Meridiana lifted one foot, the other, one and the other, and made her slow, feeble way to the elevator.

As the survivors sunk into darkness, not a one of them made a sound. Ryuunosuke’s eyes remained distant and unsettlingly wide. Ryoji watched him nervously, but didn’t leave Silver, who, in contrast, stared at the floor, blunt, broken blade clenched in his hand.

“Silver,” Meridiana began, but Ryoji shook his head, and she quietened. Dave squeezed her hand, and she leaned into him, seeking comfort and finding it.

Allie, too, was quiet and pale, not looking at any of them. Futo was watching Ryuunosuke, but not with Ryoji’s concern; suspicion narrowed her eyes and sharpened her features. Isabelle waited at her heels, looking up at everyone with clear worry on her kind, doggy face. Even Haruka was subdued, though she kept taking a breath like she might attempt to break the oppressive silence, but never followed through.

Mr. Tsukiyama was dead. And someone had attacked Mr. D-Pops, too, not a week since the last time.

Someone was going to die, once again. The nine of them would shout, and pick sides, and argue, and all of it only to choose the one to die.

The one to kill.

Dave’s hand kept hers from shaking apart.

∅∅∅
5:31 A.M.

The attacks began at once.

It began with the broken sword, then moved on to the condition of Mr. Tsukiyama’s body, a discussion positively venomous with accusation and hatred. No one among the survivors was as universally admired as Mr. Tsukiyama; and no one was as passionate at a trial as Silver and Ryuunosuke, the two closest to him.

(Still, Allie kept her silence, and perhaps Meridiana would have spoken to her, but Dave was standing with her at her podium, keeping her on her feet, trying to get the facts from the others.)

The first theory was that Mr. D-Pops had killed him—no one else was powerful enough physically, certainly, not when Mr. Tsukiyama could square off against Mr. Wario, and why else would Mr. D-Pops have been about at night?—but Dave pressed back adamantly, and Ryoji brought up the roll of gauze in the bar. Given the state of the place, a struggle had clearly broken out there, and both Tsukiyama’s tie and Mr. D-Pops’s electronic handbook placed them at the scene. If Mr. D-Pops had fought him there and won, why go all the way down to the second floor for gauze from the first aid room, only to return to the fourth floor to treat his wounds?

Could Mr. D-Pops have even done it, in that condition? For that matter, what about the body in the pool? Futo’s testimony claimed that he would not even wake for some time. Could he possibly have had the strength to—to drown Mr. Tsukiyama? What if Mr. Tsukiyama had been conscious to fight back? Was that how the water came to be strewn about so?

Thinking about it, whether Mr. Tsukiyama were helpless, whether Mr. D-Pops could do something like that to him with his soldier’s strength, it made her stomach turn. But Dave stood steady at her side, his hand around hers and her fingers on his arm, lines of warmth and strength against her body.

So perhaps it was his strength and not Meridiana’s that drew the words out of her; perhaps it had nothing to do with her at all, when she said, “No. No, he couldn’t have. Mr. D-Pops wouldn’t have been able to kill Mr. Tsukiyama, because he said he was already…”

The trial was suddenly very quiet before everything exploded on her all at once.

Yelling, Ryuunosuke and Silver, one to either side of her—what did she mean? Had one of them spoken to her? Why was she out of bed and dressed at that hour, anyway?! Allie stepped back so that Silver wasn’t yelling in her ear, but she was observing Meridiana intently, now, something dark and watchful in her face, and Futo was shouting back at them in her defense, ever the loyal warrior, and Dave—

Dave was holding onto her, and when she shrank back into him, he stepped up to shelter her, not asking her anything, eyes front lest one of them break rank and come for her.

The Knight of Swords.

It was Allie who cut through the noise, though, Allie who told Silver to back off as she pushed forward again, Allie who was second-closest to where she stood. Allie who told her she’d best continue, in the coldest voice Meridiana had yet heard from the girl who reminded her so of Elise—not icy, not angry, but remote. In that forbidding voice, like the shadow under a mountain, she told Meridiana to continue—to tell her and Dave and ignore the rest, if it helped.

Trembling, Meridiana turned, found Dave’s eyes—his sunglasses were still perched in his mussed, flyaway hair, so pale—buried her face in his chest, and stammered out her story, starting mere hours ago in the dead of night with a knock at her door.

Ryuunosuke immediately protested. Why would Tsukiyama have gone to her to help with a body, wasn’t that suspicious? Silver agreed, and Haruka came up with something ridiculous about secret two-timing lovers squared, and she clung to Dave with all her failing strength as tears squeezed their way out of her eyes. But he didn’t falter once, beating back their accusations with ferocity beneath the steel of his words, and she’d hardly ever seen him angry but now…

“You’re something like he was, aren’t you,” said Allie in a perfect midnight voice.

Edited 2017-03-31 03:09 (UTC)

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It's time for Round Two!

no subject

i'm sorry

same anon

no subject

Execution: Content Warning (cw: cannibalism)

EXECUTION: TWINNEEDLE

no subject

CLOCKSTOPPER: Part One of Thhhhrreeee...?

CLOCKSTOPPER: Part Two of Three (non-anon for formatting)