murder cord

(Spoiler Alert) Danganronpa Third Dual Murders

“How many times they hafta kill bro before they’re happy…? I’ll beg, I’ll scrape my head across the ground. Just please give him back…! That doesn’t matter. Nothing….nothing else matters. No matter what it takes, I’m gonna give him back! That’s my promise as a man!”

Game: Danganronpa - Trigger Happy Havoc

Murdered: Kiyotaka Ishimaru

Title: Ultimate Moral Compass

Murderer: Hifumi Yamada, Ultimate Fanfic Creator

Murder Motif: Alter Ego’s Disappearance and Celestia Ludenberg’s Lie

Cause Of Death: Blunt Force Trauma

“Ahh…that’s right…I remember now…Hope’s Peak…I remember…everything…Before…I’d met you…all…I’d met…you all…Ahh…the light…It’s reaching out…to me… Like…the tail…of a comet…Who….killed me…? That’s right…I remember…their name…Y…Yasu…hi…ro…”

Game: Danganronpa - Trigger Happy Havoc

Murdered: Hifumi Yamada

Title: Ultimate Fanfic Creator

Murderer: Celestia Ludenberg, Ultimate Gambler

Murder Motif: Ten Million Dollar Bribery and Celestia Ludenberg’s Dream Castle

Cause Of Death: Blunt Force Trauma

“Heeeeey y’all! It’s Ibuki Miodaaaaaa! Thanks for coming out today! My specialty is making beef stew! Haha, I may not look like it but people tell me that I’m a nurturing type. So I’m gonna do my very best performance so I can make everyone feel better. I hope you’re all pumped up!” 

Game: Danganronpa 2 - Goodbye Despair

Murdered: Ibuki Mioda

Title: Ultimate Musician

Murderer: Mikan Tsumiki, Ultimate Nurse

Murder Motif: Despair Disease and Mikan Tsumiki’s Lust

Cause Of Death: Asphyxia

“S-Stupid! What are you saying?! Of course I can do it! B-Because…Mahiru taught me. That’s why I can do it on my own.”

Game: Danganronpa 2 - Goodbye Despair

Murdered: Hiyoko Saionji

Title: Ultimate Traditional Dancer

Murderer: Mikan Tsumiki, Ultimate Nurse

Murder Motif: Eye Witness

Cause Of Death: Artery Cut

“God is a forgiving God after all. So Angie forgives you.”

Game: Danganronpa V3 - Killing Harmony

Murdered: Angie Yonaga

Title: Ultimate Fine Artist

Murderer: Korekiyo Shinguji, Ultimate Anthropologist

Murder Motif: Eye Witness

Cause Of Death: Fatal Spinal Cord Injury

“It’s okay to cry. Crying makes you feel better after all. Even laughing, and getting even angry. We’re Humans and there’s nothing to be ashamed of. Because that’s what Humans are and that’s what Humans are supposed to do.”

Game: Danganronpa V3 - Killing Harmony

Murdered: Tenko Chabashira

Title: Ultimate Aikido Master

Murderer: Korekiyo Shinguji, Ultimate Anthropologist

Murder Motif: Korekiyo Shinguji’s Lust

Cause Of Death: Fatal Spinal Cord Injury

First Murder: Sayaka Maizono, Ultimate Imposter, Rantaro Amami

First Execution: Leon Kuwata, Teruteru Hanamura, Kaede Akamatsu

Second Murder: Chihiro Fujisaki, Mahiru Koizumi, Ryoma Hoshi

Second Execution: Mondo Owada, Peko Pekoyama, Kirumi Tojo

Third Murder: Kiyotaka Ishimaru and Hifumi Yamada, Ibuki Mioda and Hiyoko Saionji, Angie Yonaga and Tenko Chabashira (Here)

Third Execution: Celestia Ludenberg, Mikan Tsumiki, Korekiyo Shinguji 

Fourth Murder: Sakura Ogami, Nekomaru Nidai, Miu Iruma

Fourth Execution: To be listed

Fifth Murder: Mukuro Ikusaba, Nagito Komaeda, Kokichi Oma

Fifth Execution: To be listed

Final Execution: To be listed


Danganronpa Survivors

Imagine John Winchester (your father) hits you... Dean and Sam react badly... PART 2 [FINALE]

 The soothing rumbling of a car woke you up. It wasn’t the Impala, you knew upon instinct, but another car, old and worn down. Prying your eyes opened, you winced and reached towards your bruised face, crust gluing your eyelashes together.


Groaning and sitting up straight, you craned your neck to see Sam in the driver’s seat, his eyes fixated on you in the rearview mirror. “Hey, kiddo, how you holdin’ up?”

The sun peered over the horizon, and you wondered where Sam was taking you. “M'fine,” you grunted out, although both of you knew that was utter bull. “Where’re we goin’?” Still sleepy, you dragged your body over the consol and into the front passenger seat, looking at your older brother intently. Sam was about to answer, but a low grumble from your stomach silenced him. He smirked sideways at you, reaching into the glove compartment and throwing a Hostess cake at you.

“Bobby’s. I already called ahead. Dean’s meeting us there.”

Your eyes grew wide. “You talked to Dean?”

The atmosphere in the car suddenly grew grave, and Sam fidgeted in his seat. “(Y/N)-”

“What did you tell him?”

Sam licked his lips and looked at you again. “The truth, (Y/N). That you’re hurt and we need to meet up.”

“Why would you tell him that?!”

“Kiddo, we want to help you-”

“NO! No, NO! Now he has to choose, Sam! He can’t- I can’t- It’s my fault, okay?! It’s my fault anyways, so I can’t make you or Dean choose between me and Dad and I-”

The car swirved to the side of the barren highway, and Sam threw open his door. You winced, pulling back into your seat, as your own door was pulled open. A hand reached for your arm, and you began to panic, but when it touched you, the touch was gentle. Kind. And then you were enveloped in Sam’s arms once more, your cheek pressed to his chest as he hugged you and rocked you back and forth.

“Don’t you dare say that,” he whispered in your ear. “It is not your fault. It’s never been your fault. Do you understand, (Y/N)? It’s no one’s fault but his… Please, kiddo, please- I need you to know this. Kiddo…” He kissed your temple, finally pulling you away from him so you could look each other in the eye. “And even if I did have to choose between you two, I would always, always choose you, (Y/N). You’re my baby sister, alright? I will always take care of you… Always.”

You bit back the tears, pulling away from Sam and withdrawing into yourself once more. He frowned pointedly, but went back to the driver’s seat. Sitting for a few moments, he thrummed his fingers against the wheel. “(Y/N), I’m sorry if I- if I scared you-”

I’m not weak!” you hissed at him, instantly regretting it.

Sam swollowed and nodded, starting the car back up and veering back over onto the highway.

N-No! Daddy, p-p-please,” you sobbed, feeling warm blood dripping down your lips from a broken nose. John staggered towards you, an empty bottle of Jack in one hand and a pistol in the other. “Daddy…” The broken cry tumbled from your lips as you clawed at the floor boards, splinters going up beneath your nails and causing blood to bubble forth. “Daddy, Daddy, Daddy-”

DON’T CALL ME THAT!” he roared at you, spit flying from his lips. His eyes, a dark charcoal black, peered at you with hatred. “Don’t you dare call me that… I shoulda gotten rid of you when I had the chance… Bastard child… Not nearly as good as Dean or Sam, never gonna be as good as them… You’re nothing to me, (Y/N).”





You screamed bloody murder, vocal cords shredding against each other as you sat stalk straight, throwing your hands in front of you. “NO! DADDY NO, PLEASE-”

“(Y/N)! (Y/N), kiddo, calm down please!”

The begging slowly brought your vision back, and the taste of blood on your lips made you gasp. Above you leaned Sam, his hands tight on your wrists as your nails clawed into your palms, drawing droplets of red. You had bitten your lip, which was why you tasted blood.

Sam’s eyes were filled with fear and pain, fear for you and pain for seeing you in such distress. “(Y/N), kiddo, please look at me,” he whispered to you, pulling you close. “It was just a nightmare, okay? Just a dream. Just a bad, bad dream…”

It took you a few moments to figure out the simpering whimpers were coming from you, and by then Sam had carried you into the motel room- since when were you guys at a motel?- and deposited you in the bed. He stepped away for a moment to do God knows what when your hand suddenly shot out on its own accord and clutched his hoodie sleeve.

The face he gave you was one of pure sorrow. “Oh, kiddo…”

You cuddled up to your big brother that night, hoping if you held tight enough then the terrible dream wouldn’t return.

By the time you woke up in the morning, you were back in the car and a mere half hour away from Bobby’s house. Yawning and stretching, you rubbed your eyes and winced when you got a sore reminder of the ugly blue marr on your face. Sam said nothing until you two pulled into Singer Salvage, putting the car in park and turning to you. “You ready, kiddo?”

No sooner had the words left his mouth did the front door swing open to reveal a rather tousseled Dean Winchester. It was surprising to see your oldest brother in such a state. His jeans looked days old, covered in muck and blood from his last hunt, and his hair was in such a state of disarray it looked like he had rolled around in a sty. The real kicker, though, was the dark shadows beneath his usual bright green eyes, now dull and cautious with hints of his hidden anger and sadness.

“(Y/N),” came the sigh of relief as he darted over to you, bow legs launching him the full ten yards in under a second. The car door was wretched open and you were pulled into yet another hug as Dean ran his hands up and down your arms, back, and head, looking for injuries. “Where are you hurt, kiddo? Huh? Did Dad gank the bitch?”

You stiffened in his arms, and Sam called something to his brother over your head, but you couldn’t hear it. You were back in that room, black eyes glaring at you and Jack Daniels filling your nose with splinters under your nails and blood in your mouth and-

“Would both you idjits step back and let the girl breathe, f'God sake?”


Dean and Sam both pulled away from you, and the bald head of Bobby Singer greeted you like a lighthouse beacon. Wringing his hat in his hands, Bobby smirked at you and put it on your head. “Your hair looks like a rat’s nest, girlie. When’s last time you had a bath?”

You shuffled your feet, thinking back. You and Sam had been on the road for about two days, and the hunt with John had lasted at least four… “Almost a week? I think?”

Bobby’s eyes grew wide, as if he hadn’t really been expecting an answer. “And the last time you ate?”

“…I had a twinkie on the way here…”

Bobby glared at Sam. “You didn’t get her any food?”

“It’s been a rough ride, Bobby,” Sam replied wearily, running a hand through his disheveled hair. “We haven’t really had much time to stop anywhere.”

You turned to look at your brothers, giving a soft smile when you saw Dean embracing Sam. It had been a while, but Dean had been more gung-ho about his little brother going off to college then Sam was! The smile the two shared was sad but happy, a melancholy recognition. “How you doin’, bitch?”

Sam scoffed. “Fine… jerk.”

You giggled despite yourself.

“Go on up and shower, girlie,” Bobby addressed you, patting your head. “Me and your big brother’ve been cookin’ up a storm for you two,” he said, more to Sam than you, “so you two’d better be ready to eat.”

Getting into the shower was painful, your entire body sore from sleeping so long in such close quarters. It was welcomed, though, the hot water almost scalding your skin as you scrubbed away the tears and anger and pain and misery. The scratches the wendigo had left on your side began to bleed again as the scabs were washed off, and you hissed in pain when the water hit them.


A crash echoed downstairs, and you gasped, knocking over the towel rack as you stepped out of the shower. “Shit!”

There was a pause, followed by two quick pairs of feet coming up the stairs. “(Y/N)?”

“I-I’m fine, Sam!” you hollared back, feeling the beginnings of a bruise on your right hip. “J-Just knocked over the towel rack… I’ll be out in a second!”

There were muffled voices on the other side of the door, and you could hear Bobby clearing his throat. “Mm'kay, hon, just make your way downstairs when you’re ready, alright? There’s clothes on the bed for ya.”

“Thanks, Bobby.”

You waited until you couldn’t hear the men outside the door anymore, then ventured out into the guest room. There on the bed sat a pair of shorts and a tee-shirt of Dean’s. Or at least, you suspected it was Dean’s, seeing as how it was Led Zepplin. After holding the towel to your side, soaking up the blood and letting it clot, you pulled on the clothes and dried your hair, taking baby steps towards the door and peering down the steps. You could hear Sam whispering and Dean not-so-whispering in harsh tones, but you couldn’t make out the words. Creeping down the steps, you leaned in to hear more.

“Did she say Dad actually-”

“No, Dean, but it was obvious-”

How obvious, Sam?!”

“As obvious as the goddamn bruise on her cheek, Dean!”

Tears pricked your eyes, and you rushed a hand to your mouth to keep from crying out protests. That was what had startled you earlier, then. Sam telling Dean that your dad had… had hit you. Hell, you could hardly believe it yourself if it hadn’t happened to you. John Winchester may be a drill seargent and a jerk, but he wasn’t abusive. “He’s not…” you whispered to yourself, eyes screwing shut as you whimpered. “He’s not, he’s not, he’s not! It’s my fault… My fault… All my fault…”


You looked up with a sharp gasp, pulling back when a hand touched your bruised wrist. There at the base of the stairs stood Dean, eyes wide and glassy as he took in your appearance. He opened his mouth, shut it, opened it again. He looked like a fish out of water, panicking and not knowing what to do. Finally, Dean turned and walked towards the kitchen, back to you as he ran a hand through his hair and crossed his arms, breathing heavily.

“C'mere, girl,” Bobby coaxed you with a gentleness not altogether unknown of the man, but unused for many years. Tentatively, you stepped forward and allowed a blanket to be draped over your shoulders, a mug of something hot and steamy pressed into your hands. “Chicken soup. ’S good for the soul.”

The elephant in the room was suffocating, pressing down and making all of the oxygen dissipate into thin air. You sat on the couch, side pressed up against Sam’s, and leaned your head against his shoulder, sipping quietly at your soup.

When Dean turned around, he cut straight to the chase. “Kiddo, I know it’s gonna be hard, but… but you need to tell us what happened.” He crouched in front of you, reaching towards your face.

Unbidden, you gasped and flinched backwards, nearly dropping your mug to the floor. Dean’s face fell and your heart cracked. You had never seen him looking so sad or… broken. “Apple-pie…” he whispered, cupping your cheek and pulling you to look him in the eye. His thumb feathered its way across the bruise on your cheek. “We won’t be mad.”

Biting your lip, noting the pain that was there already, you took a deep breath and readied yourself for the monologue.

“We… We went on a hunt- a wendigo… It wasn’t supposed to be that big of a deal, but-” You grew quiet. “I just screw up everything,” you whispered, dropping your chin to your chest. Sam wiped at the tears trailing down your cheeks, nudging you onward. “I- I was supposed to stay hidden, to jump out when Dad got it in the right spot. But I went out too quick and- and it got away…”

“Did it hurt you?” Bobby interrupted, frowning pointedly.

You waited a moment, weighing whether or not you should tell the truth. “Y-Yeah. But just my side! It’s not a big deal-”

But Dean had already pulled up your shirt, his fingers running over the cuts as he scruntinized them. “Sammy, get the first aid kit.”

Without protest, Sam retrieved the kit and Dean began to sanitize the wounds. You didn’t make a noise or a single movement, not wanting to show any more weakness to your brothers than you already had. Dean was wrapping gauze around your torso just as you continued your story.

“Dad was… was furious…” Your blood ran cold at the thought of your furious father. “He- he screamed the whole way home… At first I just took it- I screwed up and I deserved it-” Sam’s face hardened at that. “-so I stayed quiet… But when we got back to the motel-”

You couldn’t finish. The horrors of what had happened was still fresh in your mind, seared into your skin by vivid marks. “(Y/N)…” Dean comforted you, rubbing your knee. “Please… We need to know.”

“… I screamed back at him… He told me- told me I’d never be a hunter like you, or Sam. And I know that! I know I’m not any good and I know I’ll never be as good as you two, but I can’t stand it anymore! Why can’t he- why can’t he just love me for me and not-” You broke off in sniffles, wiping at your nose. “And I yelled at him. I yelled at him and he grabbed me and-…”

“He hit you,” Sam finished, eyes blazing.


Dean’s eyes rolled closed, and you could see the veins in his neck and arms tensing as he tried to remain calm. Sam was pulsating with anger, although he tried to burrow it deep down so you wouldn’t be startled. You trusted your brothers not to harm you, though- then again, you had also trusted your father not to harm you, and look how that had turned out…

Bobby ended up breaking the uncomfortable silence, mumbling something about calling Pastor Jim. You wanted to protest at that, but found yourself suddenly to weary to care much about anything.

Finally, blessed finally, Dean spoke.

“(Y/N), has he… has he hit you before?”

You shook your head no, and the brothers deflated a bit. “This was the only time?”

You nodded.

“And it’ll stay the only time,” Sam affirmed, his voice a deep growl. You expected Dean to say something in defense of your father, but he merely nodded.

“And you’ll be staying with me from now on, girlie.”

Everyone turned to Bobby as he entered the room. “Just got off with Jim. He called me last night after John showed up drunk out of his mind on the footsteps of the church.” You stiffened and Sam rubbed your arms. “Told Jim not to say anything to John, but that you were stayin’ with me for a while.” He smiled. “It’ll do you some good to stay at one school for a while anyways, now won’t it?”

Happiness filled your veins, and you were confused. You should be sad that you couldn’t stay with your father, shouldn’t you? Your mind was buzzing with questions and fears and doubts, uneasiness filling your empty stomach like a pile of rocks.


You looked at Dean, who was grinning ear-to-ear. “Whaddaya say I take a little vacation, huh? Christmas is just around the corner, anyway. We can hole up here, get a tree…”

Sam smirked. “I’m on winter vacation at college, too. I’ll have to call my roomates, but I think I’ll be good to stay for a while, too.”

A teary smile lit up your face. “Yeah… Thanks, guys.”

There was so much more you wanted to say, but your throat was closing up on itself. So you simply sat there, embraced by your brothers, and watched as snow began to fall outside in little, fluffy clouds. Slowly, slowly, your eyes shut, and you fell asleep…

So I’m driving to Albany this afternoon with a few other people for the NELGBT Conference and I just got my period so I’m bloated and crampy and generally gross-feeling and it is thus highly probable that I’ll end up strangling someone with my bare hands…

Anyway, if you see me on the news speeding away from local law enforcement in a little green car, it’s because no one would give me the aux cord.