hey howdy hey!
if you’ve stumbled across this blog, imsosorryplsforgiveme welcome~!☆
this is an independent and private (mostly friends-only) roleplay blog for KOKICHI OMA of Danganronpa V3.
shamefully adored by sammy (30+ [born 1994]) ( ˘▽˘)っ♨ enjoy your stay and take some tea and cookies with you before you go!
rules/verses pasted below for ease!
Sammy's Blog Roll:
Vincent Charbonneau (Dead Plate) || Sasha (NIGHT/SHADE) || Martin Blackwood & Elias Bouchard (The Magnus Archives) || Ryunosuke Naruhodo (The Great Ace Attorney Chronicles) || Kaz Brekker (Six of Crows) || Leo Valdez (Heroes of Olympus)
Disclaimer:
First, I'm not here for the "Kokichi did nothing wrong" mentality. He will not be written in a way implying anything of the sort: I try my best to write him as an extremely flawed character who, while having some good intentions, has done very bad things.
Second, Kokichi has a foul mouth and says some incredibly cruel things to people. I will not soften his character, so please just be warned that anything he says or does is—obviously—not me or my opinion! No offense intended ooc.
Rules:
Highly selective and private (mutuals only). Low/sporadic activity. If I follow you, I want to interact!
Memes (and inbox interactions in general) are the best way to start threads with me. Or just scream at me in the IMs; I promise I'll immediately love you.
Punch Kokichi. You have permission and are encouraged to.
Kokichi is a liar. You can safely assume a good 90% of the things he says to your muse aren’t true, so take his words with a grain of salt.
Multi-ship with ships occurring in different verses.
NSFW mentions will be possible mainly because Kokichi chooses to be an inappropriate gremlin (he's a teenager . . . c'mon). This means suggestive threads at most; no explicit material (again, teenager).
The nature of DR makes backstories for characters very open. That in mind, my headcanons for Kokichi’s past (and what memories I’ve decided are real or made up) are my own ideas, and so I don’t intend on claiming they are “right” or the only means of interpreting him. :) Just the way I write my version of him.
AUs:
(summarized)
Pokemon:
Kanto/Johto region
Leader of a “villainous” team called D.I.C.E.
D.I.C.E. is a very small organization (~10 members) comprising youth who go out of their way to cause trouble and pull pranks. Kokichi claims D.I.C.E. is huge to anyone who asks him, and he makes them out to be far more formidable a group than they actually are.
D.I.C.E. team outfits match up with Kokichi’s default wear: white coats, checkered scarves, clown masks.
Kokichi and his team travel anywhere across the world but originate in Johto/Kanto. They’ve caused many problems specifically in bigger cities such as Goldenrod.
Team: Mimikyu, Nidoking, Sableye, Banette, Polteageist, Gengar
Genshin Impact:
Mondstadt
No Vision
Orphan affiliated with a small group of rowdy kids/teenagers calling themselves D.I.C.E.
Mainly stays close to the city of Mondstadt, but can potentially venture out anywhere (realistically) with his group of "misfits."
D.I.C.E. does not pose too big of a threat. Most of them are just misbehaving kids who steal and cause trouble just for the fun of it; only a few have Visions to create more destruction than usual.
It's well-known across Mondstadt by now that D.I.C.E. is just a group of meddlesome kids, but Kokichi will lie and say they are so much more to any other nation not familiar with them. Abyss Order–level bad.
D.I.C.E. doesn't have an official "hideout," but they tend to take over hilichurl camps and use them as temporary lodgings.
Kokichi's sudden laugh was too sharp for this park full of soft grass and breezes, too loud for a boy who would rather be swallowed by the earth than stand in the spotlight. Embarrassingly Basil startled from it, clutching his bag of goodies tight before it could tumble, gaze darting back and forth before refocusing on the source—as if worried that people may be looking.
DON'T.
If they look too long, they might see w h a t ' s b e h i n d m e.
Confusion wavered his smile down the middle, until finally it dropped at the suggestion of calling Aubrey an even worse name. "N-no, that's not what I—! It's...! I-it's not..."
It's not her fault.
Teeth grazed the backs of Basil's arms. Cold as the skin of a corpse and razor-sharp as the images that flashed in his mind's eye. But the Something's jaws wouldn't close. He was safe...for now.
Aubrey's Something wasn't like Basil's. It didn't relent so long as she was out here in the sun, relegated to playing the shadow: forced to keep that slight distance, but always waiting just behind. It was constant. Angry. Consuming like fire, rather than the frigid, gaping maw of a black sea.
Sharp points clenched tighter—teetering on the brink, seconds from puncture. Basil's entire frame flinched away from the pain. He sensed it roiling, eager—
But then...
Kokichi's demeanor shifted again. Just like that, he was pouting with the force of a disgruntled toddler. It was dramatic. It was over-the-top. It certainly wasn't a real reaction. And yet, not for the first time...
It pulled Basil back.
Maybe it was that whining, petulant tone. Or maybe it was the absurdity of it all. Even as it happened, Basil didn't understand why. But as a mossy gaze focused on Kokichi's exaggerated pout, splotches of shadow receded from his vision. Instead of cold and sharp, he felt the sun's rays warming his skin. It thawed him enough to usher back the shy curve of a smile to his lips.
"N-no, of course I'm not trying to get you in trouble. I don't want you to call Aubrey anything mean." For having just recovered from a much worse spiral, Basil was immediately thrown for a loop all over again when Kokichi so casually proclaimed them friends. He blinked with eyes wide, further defenses for a former holder of that title dying on his tongue. The rosy tint of his cheeks darkened a shade more than could be blamed on the hot summer day.
Why did hearing that tie Basil's stomach in knots?
"We...are?"
Why didn't he want to deny it?
"I-I mean—of course we are!" It was even more difficult to plaster that smile on his face now, while his every emotion went haywire. Why...? "So...see? I wouldn't try to get you in trouble. Besides, Polly likes you. That wouldn't change from saying one mean thing."
The annoying part of all this was that Kokichi would’ve had plenty to unpack here. (More than just the load of junk Basil had in that stupid little bag of his, even!) Perceptive as always, and endlessly keeping an eye on reactions, reactions, reactions (incited by him, naturally), he wasn’t standing here missing the way Basil’s eyes seemed to glaze over with panic: like a sweet, seemingly innocent little fawn realizing it’d just stepped in a trap and knowing the moment it tried to lift its feeble leg, those jaws would snap straight through the bone.
But he didn’t have time to dig deeper.
He didn’t have time to tighten that red string around more pins, link the scattered pieces of information he had together and make connections—
How stupid was this?
To be so invested in someone who should’ve been soooo boring?
Should’ve.
Should have.
That was the frustrating problem here.
If Basil was nothing more than a creepy little shy kid with some weird tendencies stemming from a lack of socialization . . .
Well! That was more the brand his dear isolated friend was subscribing to, wasn’t it?
So what exactly are you?
Basil being so embarrassingly perplexed at the declaration of them being friends was another one of those vexing “should haves.” As in: Kokichi should have expected it. (The kid really didn’t have friends, did he?) Kokichi should have milked it for all its worth. (He could use that obvious desperation, after all.) And, maybe more importantly, a shouldn’t have: Kokichi shouldn’t have fumbled for even the briefest moment—
(Shocked, confused, even agitated by the mere notion someone would want to be his friend. Because no one wanted that . . . and he made damn sure of it.)
So, going with some equally stupid children’s-nursery-rhyme storytelling, if Basil was the fawn standing precariously over that trap, Kokichi was the fox looking on in anticipation: opportunistically waiting for that inevitable injury to give him a leg up, or somehow fearful of the way that fawn stared at him . . . hopeful. Maybe not to be saved, maybe knowing he couldn’t be, but wishing for companionship through the pain. And Kokichi couldn’t decide which was worse: the fact that Basil wanted that companionship (wanted him), or the fact that his own world seemed to tilt around him when he realized . . .
Why did any of what Basil wanted even matter to him?
He hoped Basil wasn’t paying attention. He hoped (oh, he was hoping now; gross) the shock replacing those crocodile tears was brief enough it left no trace as he picked up the closest mask he could find and set it upon his visage again. “Yeesh, don’t get too excited, Parsley; way to look desperate, and right in front of your would-be salad.” (He was talking about the carrot seeds. Yes, he remembered Basil mentioned those. Unfortunately.) Kokichi waved his lollipop dismissively through the air, but as much effort as he put into the theatrics, he resented that his tone felt flatter than usual.
“Do you not know what friends are?” said the friendless clown. “That’s, like, super surprising, considering you’re so good at losing them.” It came out meaner than he meant, but Kokichi wasn’t about to correct himself. He felt something jostle behind his ribs: an inexplicable panic he was racing to stifle. By any means necessary.
Enemies to "I accidentally came across you while you were vulnerable and scared and I'm not a total asshole so I tried to help you" to "accidental mutual uncovering of softer sides and vulnerabilities" to "I can't be mean to you anymore, not out of pity but because it would feel weird betraying that brief truce we had" to "Fine I'll make an effort to be nice to you now I guess" to "actually now that we're not actively hating each other you're not so bad I guess" to "i think we're friends but I'm not going to say that because I'm afraid you're not gonna feel the same way" to "oh you also think we're friends? Great" to lovers
Basil wasn't sure if it was possible to ever really get used to Kokichi, but he'd learned how to endure long before the town's newcomer ever moved in.
It wasn't that his heart was immune. Insults and cruelty didn't bounce harmlessly off like a knife against armor and leave him unfazed. (Basil wished that were the case—that he could be fearless like Kel, or confident like Hero.)
He felt every word as a stab to his heart. But then the shadow roiling at his back absorbed that knife before it could dig too deep in what may look like mercy, if only it knew such a thing. The Something did not pity. It did not spare. It only added that new weapon to its teeth: a promise of pain that would come later, in the darkness where it always took hold.
Still, Basil upheld his smile as if being called "naturally pitiful" was praise for some kind of innate talent: always ensuring his shadows were locked away where no one else could see. Kokichi's sudden shift in tone didn't give him quite as much whiplash as it used to, although he still blinked at the other boy once he stood opposite the bench, lagging to catch up.
"O-oh, well—" Basil un-crumpled the top of the bag and opened it enough to show inside. "It's just seeds, mostly." A hand reached in and withdrew a few seed packets, both for flowers and garden veggies. "Polly used up all the carrots, so I thought I'd plant some more. And I've been wanting to try growing some zinnias...Oh! I got a new pair of pruning shears, too; my old ones were pretty dull."
Not that he thought Kokichi cared about gardening, but he knew by now that it was easiest to just go along with whatever he asked. "Sorry," he said automatically as he dropped the seeds back into the bag. Hard to tell if the apology was for the supplies that Kokichi would no doubt find boring, for the obvious question—or for what he was about to say next. This little sunflower never really learned, did he? "But...I-I really don't think she deserves to be called that..." Gaze dropping, Basil picked at a frayed strand of plastic on one of the bag's handles. "Just because we're not friends anymore doesn't mean she's...y-you know. That."
Kokichi was left wondering, Could there be a more boring hobby?
. . . fishing, maybe—?
Watching paint dry?
Yeesh . . . Get this kid some friends.
Oh, wait !
But despite that overwhelming lack of real interest, Kokichi didn’t interrupt while Basil gave inventory. He just stood there, the only reason he managed to stay mostly still because he was rolling that sucker around in his mouth; the stick flicked from one side to another, sporadic and as impossible to pin down as the owner himself. His attention more frequently lingered on the boy’s face than on the objects he procured. The former was what Kokichi was really here for. And it was curious to him . . . that Basil clearly knew Kokichi couldn’t possibly care less and still went along with it as if he did.
Talk about conflict-avoidant. An attempt to shrink into himself, draw as little attention as possible, just follow everyone else’s lead and fade into the background. Was that really what Basil wanted, or his way of protecting himself—?
(And from what? Couldn’t just be the bullies: didn’t this kid realize most bullies were big dumb pushovers the moment you stood up to them? Something else, then. Something else.)
He was getting part of it right: the “standing up” part, missing that he was supposed to stand up to the bully, not stand up for her. And when that meek little apology spilled through his lips seconds before a surprising attempt to defend the bully who had once been his friend—allegedly—Kokichi’s silence was finally broken. A laugh burst out of him, full-bodied and abrupt, and still within the bubbles of that ringing sound, Kokichi formed a ready response.
“Since when have you had a sense of humor?” He popped the sucker out from his mouth again, pointed it at Basil almost accusingly once his laughter died out. “So then what is she? Should I have called her something worse . . . ?” A crooked smirk crawled up one side of his face, and he brushed the lolli along the seam of his lips with exaggerated thought. “I was being soooo polite about it, Oregano! I didn’t want to hurt your baby ears. Ms. Polly would be super disappointed in me if I did. . . . Do you want that—?”
Now, that mischievous grin melted into a pout, just as over-the-top of a display as anything. “You’re trying to get me in trouble, aren’t you? That’s so mean! I thought we were friends!” It wasn’t nearly as difficult to stay in-character despite the absurdity of that last line, which was . . . annoying, for some reason—like there was some truth to it. (He had to fight to keep some twitch of disgust from sneaking onto his face.)
//but, like, in the sassiest tone you’ve ever heard in your life 😔
⋆｡‧˚ʚ💋ɞ˚‧｡⋆ 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐞
OH GODDESS, HE REALLY WAS... For even with every ounce of love and TOLERANCE that she held in her heart for her fellow Ultimate, there was absolutely no denying that @falsiliar was a WHOLE LOT TO HANDLE, AND THEN SOME! He was that menace of a 'little brother' (Even though he IS older than her) who was only meant to exist in books and TV shows-- if not worst. And honestly, one should get some sort of MEDAL, being able to handle him on a daily basis.
It really was just a dang shame that those very words would roll off the perpetrator's tongue in question. And in a tone so DANGEROUSLY EYE ROLLING, that Itsuki's own eyeballs had nearly fallen out, right then and there.
The bro held absolutely no guilt or remorse, whatsoever! He knows it! She knows it! AND so did the rest of their class! Still, she suppose she would give him points for being somewhat SELF AWARE... or was that worst?
... Oh, why, bro, why?
"And whadya gone do about it, huh?"
Nothing, most likely-- nothing.
Not if he was still having this much fun.
She would continue to gaze disapprovingly at the bro, resting her hands on her hips as she took in how UNAFFECTED as always he seemed to be by it. That much too bright grin of his tempting her to just reach forward and pinch him by the ear then... And after another moment of silent staring, the lil' farmer would simply turn away from him and to focus back what she had been doing.
"... Unless ya give a real apology, ya ain't gettin' any of these cookies, fresh oughta the oven, bro."
“Oh, Basil Bo~oy! I saw a flower growing between the sidewalk cracks on my way here and thought of you! ღゝ◡╹)ノ♡ It definitely got run over by a bike two seconds later, but it was, like, super cute before that happened. ♡”
Answered! || @falsiliar
"You—...really thought about me?" Not that 'seeing any kind of plant and thinking of Basil' was all that special. It made sense; everyone knew he loved gardening. But that wasn't the part of Kokichi's sentiment that gave him pause.
'Super cute'...? What was that supposed to mean??
Basil hesitated, waiting for Kokichi to take back the words or morph them into an insult any second. When nothing more was said after a few beats of staring, however, Basil's eyes quickly averted to the ground.
"That's...kind of you." He felt the blush rising to his cheeks and desperately tried to fight it down before he could be ridiculed for it. "D-don't worry about the bike, though—wildflowers are actually pretty resilient, so...it's probably fine."
Or the ones who remained locked up in their homes and hadn’t seen the light of day in literal years. . . . That guy tooootally wasn’t a creep and definitely didn’t have about a thousand skeletons in his closet and under his bed, but since dragging him out of his cocoon of shadiness seemed mostly impossible, Kokichi had to focus on the former—
So he did.
With increasing frequency, whenever he had the chance (and Basil actually answered his door when someone came knocking, so that made things way easier).
Kokichi didn’t know what had happened. Of course he didn’t know, beyond the attempt at hush-hush talk that inevitably spread like locusts through any small town. Something about a girl named Mari. Or—cute, but no; let’s get real here: Everything about a girl named Mari. And everything about this little group of pals who now all behaved like complete weirdos around each other ever since the Incident (capitalized). Aubrey and Kel had to be the most insufferable: Aubrey with her “tough girl” schtick thinking waving a bat around and barking insults was the A+ coping mechanism and absolutely covered her insecurities really really well; Kel with his grating optimism as if he wasn’t soaking his pillow with tears each night.
And then there was Basil.
It was always the quiet ones.
Always the quiet ones.
And something about this little doormat had Kokichi intrigued since day one.
(There was no way—no way—this kid wasn’t hiding something.)
He played this game with him, poking and prodding at him whenever he could—at every turn keeping a sharp eye on the faintest reaction. Even now, pressed against his back, Kokichi sharpened his focus on the minor flinch, on his efforts to make himself smaller as usual, on the stammering that poured out quietly, but with a noticeable difference of inflection since they first met. (Noticeably—even mildly—more comfortable. . . . Never a good idea with Kokichi.) He absorbed it all. Filed it away. And pressed forward with no evidence of his process.
“Oh! No, you know what? You’re right.” His head flopped to the other side, the tone of his voice carrying a pout Basil couldn’t currently see. “You’re just naturally pitiful. My bad. Super dumb of me. Won’t happen again.” And then Kokichi leaned forward on his toes, craning his neck in a feeble attempt to better see what was in that shopping bag . . . as if he actually gave a crap. “Oooh! What’d’ya get, Basil! What is it? Something for me? Show me!” With an excitable little bounce, he came around to Basil’s front, still curiously eyeing the mysterious contents in his lap.
But, of course, as a quick sidenote, “I swiped this from a baby on my way over.” He brandished the lollipop before sticking it back in his mouth. “—is what the pink bitch might say. Because, like . . . wow, now you’re sharing spit with a baby. Sooo cool and hygienic and scary.” Kokichi waved a dramatic hand in the air, eyes rolling. “Uh, ya doy; I came from the candy shop. Deduction 100.”
Lenore would gently cup her mischievous but adorable human son's face, before pressing a kiss to the top of his head. uwu❤️
@bequeaththecursedmoon || mom returns! :D
If you saw him freeze up just then . . .
No, you didn't!!
That's a lie, and be(lie)ve him . . . he knows lies better than the back of his hand.
But, okay, a pair of hands not belonging to him just cradling his face like that may still catch him off-guard now and again: kind of like a sneeze that hits you without pomp or circumstance (or any amount of edging before it happens). And when she leans in to place a kiss to his head, Kokichi is quick to retaliate . . . with blowing a small raspberry and pulling back.
Just a bit.
A single step to establish the illusion of distance.
(He doesn't actually mind, after all.)
“Oooooooh~ Now she's got cooties!” he trills like he's speaking to an invisible audience and hoping for a similar reaction. “Double whammy, too! Human and boy . . . ? You won't be coming back from this one, Len-Len!”
