locomo | (no subject)

[ It's been a few days now since they've first opened the car door, and the situation has grown no better. They are left cleaning up after a sickness that shows no signs of abetting, a situation where their efforts feel like a band-aid over a gaping wound. He has been helping at the clinic for the most part, busying himself with fetching clean linens or helping to feed the infirmed. Menial tasks.

But the chores are neverending, and it's always nice when another passenger comes by to help. Which he assumes Toko is here to do, handing her a bucket. ]

Would you mind helping me fetch some water? [ There's a well not far from the clinic, thankfully. ] It's always so short-staffed here...

[ Unfortunately, corgigate is clearly not on his mind, his expression a little tense with ever-present, ever-mounting concern. Even he's getting tired lately with how much there is to do, even if it's as simple as helping deliver gruel. ]

[While Toko is here to help, true, she is not here to help

him.

His Lordship holds a bucket out to her, and Toko's sweeping stills with an icy chill. Her grip whitens around the broom handle.]

D-depends. [Her glare is all spite. Gone are the tender blushes that once dusted her cheeks when she looked at that perfectly chiseled face. He had nothing on Master Byakuya, it wasn't even a contest!] Are you going to stop halfway to shove p-pictures of dogs in my face?

...Ah.

[ Someone had explained the issue with corgigate to him eventually, and of course he'd felt terrible, but apologies are a thing better saved for in-person conversations.

Also, if he tried to text her, he'd probably accidentally send her another corgi. ]

I truly am sorry about that, I had no intention to interrupt you. [ He sounds sincere!! He's really sorry. Sorry, Toko. ] I'll make it up to you one way or another, so please don't hold it against the people here.

[ take the bucket ]

[The corner of Toko's mouth twitches. He certainly looks ashamed of himself. Sylvain had spoken highly of his good nature, but it takes more than a few kind words to smooth the chips in her shoulder.

She will take the bucket though. The broom is discarded against the wall and her eyes roll as she nabs the handle from him. He's right, it's helping the patients after all. Not just him.]

Wow. Did you n-need all three weeks just to think up that apology? [She shakes her head and starts off, slamming the wooden door open on her way out. Her grumbling thereafter may be intended for her own sake, but it's audible enough to catch.]

Figures the one t-time I try to warn people...if they aren't cooing over d-dogs they just call me crazy...serves them right if things get worse...like I'd be the one instigating anything...

[Her modest heels make clodding thumps on the gravel and rock-hard mud. She ought to have used that app to change into some new clothes, but she's certain she'll wind up looking stupider than she already does. Such is her fate, always and forever.

Is he following with the other bucket?]

[ He could make excuses—that one could wander for weeks without meeting someone inside the larger cars, that he's medieval and doesn't know what a phone is, that sorrys said over text don't count. But it isn't really a matter of whether it would've been difficult for him to make an apology: it's that she deserved one, and he should've made it happen earlier. So he lets her grouse, and does indeed follow with two more buckets in hand.

He sounds a little thoughtful as they go, his own boots clicking quietly against the stone. ]

Do you really think it will get worse?

[ And not just in a general, Minecraftia is terrible sort of way. ]

[There's no excuses, no protests or addendums. That Dimitri chooses to sit with his shame speaks far better to his character than any further words might. She'd never let on about it, though. He's still firmly on probation.]

What? L-like it hasn't already? [She deigns to give him a look then. It's another dead-eyed wonder, this time with a brow raised. Charming!]

These things always do. We're at the m-mercy of some kind of maniac. They've got the power to make this...this thing! [She frees a hand to make a harried little waggle at the sky, where there is presumably a roof somewhere.] Which means we're b-basically under their bootheels no matter what we do. Most people go mad with even a small bit of power. Imagine wh-what kind of psycho you'd become, playing god like this. We're just pawns in a game nobody kn-knows how to play yet.

[Just like in Towa City. Just like in Hope's Peak. Same shit, different pile.]

Edited 2021-09-14 02:47 (UTC)

[ She's cynical, but it's a reasonable assessment of their situation. He is from a position of reigning power: he knows just how easily aristocracy can fall victim to corruption and avarice, and how quickly men bend to their egos when they're afforded strength. There are so many who are privileged with power, only to use it to force others beneath them. ]

I won't deny the possibility.

[ Even so, part of him has started to see things differently. ]

But have you noticed that everywhere we go on this train, there is some sort of... chore for us to do? An objective or sorts? Even here, without clear directive, the denizens of this world have suffered greatly before our arrival.

[ It could be conditions to a game, that much is true. But if he turns his head and looks at it from a different angle... ]

Have you considered rather than being taken from our worlds to suffer the course of some psychopath, we are here to help the ones who reside in these cars?

[He's not the first one to posit such a theory. Ben — or rather, Obi-Wan, had much the same thoughts. She is leery of putting any stock in the name of the train. Existential Express, who came up with that? Alliteration doesn't indicate cleverness, it just sounds catchy. That had been a tentpole in his argument. Dimitri is going with a more empirical approach, which Toko can respect.

Too bad she's been around this block too many times to buy it.]

I can't accept that. [Her rebuttal is quiet, but resolute. She gives him a flicker of a glance, fishing for something, before her eyes fix somewhere dead ahead. Hardened.]

Sorry. I've seen that trick p-played before, too. With the right resources, it's easy to set up a course that l-looks like the right path, but has unexpected consequences. You can think you're saving people, and maybe you are for a while. But then there's a twist. The thing you were relying on to help one set of people in fact, hurts another. Or...or you're led to believe one party is innocent, and end up framing the wrong person.

[If Komaru had followed her heroic path to a tee, all the children of Towa City would have been killed. If Naegi hadn't miraculously survived his execution, or the group had turned on Kirigiri as planned, they never would have discovered the truth of Ikusaba's death. Nor the Mastermind's identity.

They've come upon the well now. Toko docks her bucket on the side and snatches the rope, threading it around the handle.]

Until we g-get more clues about this conductor, or see them in the flesh, it's stupid to assume this is some friendly sch-scheme to make us get along and help a bunch of weird animal people. Maybe one of us is right. Maybe we're b-both wrong. But...

[The rope gives a plaintive creak. She's cinched it too tightly. Toko pauses. Wets her lips and narrows her eyes, fixated on the black abyss at the bottom of the well.]

I won't fall into another trap.

[ He listens without interruption, frowning as he looks ahead, the sound of the bucket sloshing distantly into the fresh well water answering before he finds his answer. ]

...It sounds like you've had your trust wounded quite a lot.

[ His voice turns softer than before, open in its sympathy. He hates these stories—ones where people are forced into something painful, changed fundamentally into a harder person to withstand the cold and cruelty. Toko is irritable and over the top, but doesn't that just indicate a heart that feels much and prickles easily?

He does not begrudge cynics. If only the world were kind and its circumstances generous, a place where one might place their expectations higher without fear of hurt. But as for him... he grab the handle once the bucket is full and heavy, intending to wheel it back up if she prefers leaving the lifting to him. ]

But however right you may be, I must believe otherwise. [ He must—he has to. ] If we are attacked, we will withstand the blow. If we are meant to be made enemies, then we will find a way to be companions.

[ He does not want to believe in the inherent cruelty of anything, even if he knows it as truth. If there exists a possibility for something better, he has to put his faith in it. Whatever the case, the bright, glowing digits on his palm—636—don't budge at all. ]

Even if the truth winds up between our two expectations, I will not falter in that belief.

Edited 2021-09-19 08:23 (UTC)

[To use a cliche, understatement of the year.

She listens too. Dimitri aims for more brevity than she, and his argument doesn't suffer for it much. She can't stand blind optimists, and yet constantly finds herself surrounded by them. It's refreshing that he manages to make a case that isn't bolstered by ignorance.

Then he grabs the handle, too. Determined to do the heavy lifting. Toko regards him quietly from the side of her eye.]

That's g-good. [She notes, somewhat begrudging, but her head has dipped in shy deference. She's hugging her middle, staring at her feet.] I hope you can k-keep that promise.

[For all their sakes. It's the very faith she'd advised people to have, back in that ill-fated public address.

It's harder now to discount his good nature. Something noble about his willingness to help, even though she's done nothing but pierce and prod him. It's not the sickly sweet sort of kindness, thank god, but maybe Sylvain had a point about him.

Which gives them both an exit from this dismal topic.]

S-Sylvain said you grew up together.

[Give her some deets on that.]

[ It's more stubbornness than any positive character traits, but if that leaves a good impression, that's swell. At least she doesn't tell him off for his idealism, as some do—maybe they can both have a little faith in the best, even if it's not really likely.

But he takes the segue where it's offered. ]

Ah, he mentioned that, has he? I hope he hasn't been giving you too much trouble. [ Dimitri slept in the dorm next to Sylvain, and was his house leader, so he's given him about a million lectures on... proper behavior.

He finishes cranking up bucket number one, handing it off to Toko to wind along the next one. ] He was a good friend to me since childhood. Felix as well, if you've seen him about.

[ He says so with some fondness, not overstated but clearly there. They're medieval, so they did all live some distance apart, but as children it'd been a marvel whenever they were able to spend a summer together or visit each other in some shared manor. ]

We're all of different houses in the same Kingdom, and attend officers' academy together.

Trouble how?

[Sylvain was unusually decent for a good looking boy. In fact she was shocked he was still willing to talk to her. Toko cants her head curiously, debating.] H-he was one of the only people who d-didn't call me crazy or stupid. He even got me c-cookies from that annoying old bat.

[Though he did partake in corgi posting. Hmm...]

Felix? [She shrugs, and goes to move the now full bucket out of the way.] N-Never met him.

But...I guess that's nice. To have so m-many friends around. [Wow, having more than one friend, the absolute privilege.] You're all studying to be knights or something?

[Or lords. Either way, she can safely assume they're all from noble backgrounds. Peasants don't learn to read, natch.

Now that she thinks about it, maybe she can learn a few things from them for a new book.]

[ i'm not sure what about dimitri screams h/c but anyway

the problem with working in a clinic full of sick people is being around a clinic full of sick people. he'd wondered if being a visiting passenger would provide them some manner of immunity, or if it was only a matter of time before things turned for the worst—and he doesn't have to wonder very long.

he's bringing in a few new boxes of supplies for the clinic, before he unceremoniously—and uncharacteristically—wobbles and drops everything. onto zuko. wao. ]

[ everything about dimitri screams h/c ]

[ anyway zuko is helping out grumpily --- he doesn't know these people or really see why he has to help them, but even bitch zuko isn't about to turn a blind eye to the sick and suffering ]

[ so he'd here helping out, about to visit to see what supplies they need -- and dimitri then just drops all these boxes in them ]

Watch it! What's wrong with you?!

[ wow thanks ]

[ hm

anyway, zuko's bitchiness in this particular situation is kind of warranted, because dimitri is totally not a sick person and just like dropped these boxes all over this rando? he looks surprised at himself, then apologetic. ]

Oh—! I'm sorry—I'm not sure what came over me.

[ he must've zoned out. but now everything is on the ground. sad ): he'll go to pick everything up. ] These items are meant for the clinic...

[ )))): ]

[ This Turner guy really needs to get his life together. Claude has seen him lying about several nights now, but he'd minded his own business because he's a big bear, and Claude is still a twink. On this particular night however, he'd made the mistake of spending some time with Dimitri, and when Turner had started softly crying, Dimitri had insisted that they help the drunkard home.

It had taken some asking of various villagers and physical effort (mostly on Dimitri's part), but they manage to haul Turner to his gloomy little home. No one answers when they knock on the door, and Claude is THIS close to just abandoning the bear on the doorstep.

He casts a look over toward Dimitri. ]

C'mon, your Princeliness. I doubt a measly door stands a chance against your royal strength.

[ Break the door open so they can wash their hands of this. ]

[ Poor Turner has definitely had some long shifts at work, probably not helped by the fact that he must be hungover every morning if he keeps drinking like this. Dimitri doesn't want to encourage his habits, but who could watch a bear cry like this and not feel terrible for them?

He has one of Turner's great, grizzly arms slung over his shoulders, sighing quietly as they stand stupidly in front of his door. ]

I'd rather not leave Turner with a broken home on top of... whatever must be going on in his life.

[ Turner who is just grumbling and sniffling drunkenly to himself. He shifts the bearkin's weight even more onto himself to let Claude wiggle free. ]

Can you look for another way in?

Are you asking me to break into his house?

[ Claude cranes his head around Turner's massive bulk to give Dimitri a disbelieving stare, even if he had suggested that Dimitri break the door open seconds ago.

Still, he entertains the idea with the sigh, walking away from the door and toward the windows. A little bit of shimmying gets it to slide open, but it's... small. ]

Do you think we'll be able to squeeze him through this?

[ Wow... he is suggesting that Claude break into his house, actually. This place has been a terrible influence. He just gives a helpless little half-shrug at Claude's stare, or as much as he can with a bear's weight on his shoulders.

He watches him crack the window open, expression still pretty hopeless. ]

...I don't think that is a bear-sized window.

[ A person might be able to get through, but even that'd be a squeeze. ]

[ Yeah, he didn't think so either. ]

All right, I'll try to squeeze in and get the door open from inside.

[ Breaking into the house it is then! He shucks off his pack before sticking his head through the window, making sure that his way in is clear before trying to move further in. It takes a bit of finagling and contortionism to squeeze his shoulders through, and there's a moment where he's left balancing with his stomach digging into the window pane before he can rest his weight against his hands on the ground inside, but he manages.

Until he gets stuck.

And there's a moment where he considers, what if I'm not actually stuck?, and tries to squeeze further in but that. Just makes him more stuck.

So he just gives up instead. ]

[ He watches Claude struggle through the window, and he seems like he'll be fine. But apparently he must have a huge ass or something, because he gets stuck halfway through? He watches as he wiggles for a second and then goes still.

Very quietly: ]

Oh dear.

[ He has his hands full with Turner, but he gently tries to rest him against the door to go help Claude. ]

Are you stuck? Should I try to push you through?

You're just going to end up breaking the window.

[ He's! Not wrong.

Shifting his balance, he braces his feet against the wall, using that to yank himself back out and onto his ass on the garden floor. ]

Why don't you try?

[ Just because it's true...

Dimitri frowns as Claude emerges back out of the window and pomfs onto the ground. This is going terribly. ]

If you don't fit, I'm certainly not going to.

[ He's a little broader than Claude is, anyway. ]

I suppose we can search for another way in.

[ A backdoor, maybe? He goes back to hefting Turner into his arms, this time just carrying him on his back. It's a little ridiculous looking, but at least it keeps Claude's hands free. ]

[ Just as Dimitri shifts Turner's weight back onto himself, something gently jingles and falls onto the floor from one of his pockets, settling on the grass to glint innocently in the moonlight.

Claude stares at it. ]

... I guess it would make sense that he would have keys to his house with him.

[ Shaking his head, he snatches them up before getting back to his feet. It would be very funny if these keys did not open the front door, but they do! And finally, they can get inside. ]

[ this reminds me of the time claude forgot that geese can fly

Anyway, mercifully they get inside the house. Dimitri is still the only one carrying Turner at this point, though it doesn't seem to bother him much; if he's good for even one thing in this whole universe, it's heavy lifting.

He tries not to look around too much, but he can't exactly help it when he's off looking for a bed to drop their bear friend off in. ]

He must be exhausted from working in the clinic this long. The hours there are brutal...

[ Dimitri didn't think to check for keys either?

While Dimitri does his best to mind his own business, Claude helps himself to a look around Turner's creaky little home. It's two story and narrow, with a sitting room and a kitchen on the first floor but not else.

Claude can't help wandering to the kitchen—Turner is a bear after all, maybe he has something more substantial than bird seed—where he finds a hoard of bottles. ]

Why does he even bother going to the bar when he has plenty of drink at home?

[ Picks up a bottle and uncorks it. ]

[ Is it worth making an entire game so that we can freely make up npc details with no fear of being wrong?

He doesn't see what Claude's up to, on account of trying to foist Turner onto his couch. But he hears the cork popping and sighs. ]

I wouldn't say we're guests here, Claude.

[ Don't just help yourself to whatever? He considers the question, though. ]

Maybe he would rather not drink alone.

Edited 2021-09-13 06:52 (UTC)

I'm looking for water, Dimitri. I assume he'd appreciate some when he wakes up in the morning.

[ He sets the bottle back. There's a million to get through, some empty and some not, and decides that Turner has probably been drunk enough times that he can handle his own hangover remedy.

Wandering back to Dimitri, he gives the bearkin an pitying look. ]

I'd say he should find himself a friend who can keep him in line then. Perhaps you should volunteer.

[ Aw, that's considerate of him. He shouldn't have assumed he was raiding this bear's pantry. Water does sound really nice right now, actually—it's been pretty warm lately.

Dimitri seems to consider this proposal that he brings forth. ]

I only have so many hours in a day, unfortunately.

[ Certainly not enough to keep one bearkin from making some bad personal decisions. ]

But I can attend to his shift in the morning at the clinic. While I do not want to encourage his poor habits, the man is clearly in need of some rest. [ Turner needs a mental health day. Don't we all. ]

Edited 2021-09-18 06:24 (UTC)

[ He actually wasn't looking for water, but he said it so that Dimitri feels bad for making assumptions. Jerk.

Anyway, Dimitri's response is kind of exhausting. Does he really think that he needs to babysit everyone...? ]

Then you should get some rest, your Princeliness. [ Gives Dimitri a pat on the shoulder. ] Sounds like you'll have your hands full in the morning.

[ What is a house leader, if not a glorified babysitter? Even if the reality is that Dimitri is the one who often ends up needing someone to make sure he stays alive. The point is, to be a leader means being available to as many people as possible—to be a pillar that can relieve some of the burdens of others, even if he cannot hope to singularly carry the weight of a nation.

Rest is rarely on the docket, though he tries to look appreciative when Claude suggests it. ]

Mm, I suppose I do.

[ Actually, he is pretty tired? Must've been the trek over. Without thinking, he sort of oozes in place onto the ground, sitting beside the couch and a snoozing Turner. ]

Perhaps... just a short nap before we return.

[ Considering that Dimitri just chided him about not being a guest here, Claude expects the both of them to march out the door now that they've done what they set out to accomplish.

So it's a surprise when he's standing by the door and Dimitri doesn't follow him. Backtracking to the sitting room where they set Turner down, he blinks at the sight of Dimitri on the couch.

That doesn't seem right. ]

Are you that tired of rooming with me, Dimitri?

[ He walks over to him, setting a hand on Dimitri's shoulder. ]

Come on, you said yourself we're not guests here. You can nap at home.

[ Oh, he did just say that. Claude's right, and it's a bit much to lay down and make himself comfortable in Turner's home, especially when they had to let themselves in.

He does agree completely. But when Claude touches his shoulder, he slaps it away with abrupt force, a spike of irritation raising in his throat before it dies just as quickly, startling him in its intensity before he draws his hand back, rubbing his knuckles and looking apologetic. ]

Sorry, I didn't mean... [ Hm. He must be tired and Grumpy. ] You're right, of course. We should get going.

[ He lets out a breath, then pushes himself up onto his feet with a wobble. ]

I must have been neglecting my training, if a short walk [ carrying a bear ] is enough to leave me winded.

[ ... That's really not like him. It's not that Claude hadn't needled Dimitri to the point of exasperation in the month that they'd been trapped here alone, but the prince was remarkably good at keeping control of his temper.

It could just be fatigue, but the fact that Dimitri was so suddenly exhausted is unusual in and of itself. Though calling it unusual is being kind, given that he's fairly certain that it's a sign of something worst than a little exhaustion. ]

I doubt anyone could blame you for being distracted.

[ He starts back toward the door now that Dimitri is following him, hopefully on steady feet. ]

And the food in this car really doesn't give us enough energy for anything strenuous, does it?

[ He does follow along, if a little stubbornly, resting against the doorframe for a moment. ]

It doesn't. The people here can hardly be expected to recover with just a mouthful of gruel...

[ It's frustrating. It's easier to fight something concrete, a man or a monster, but a plague is so formless that it's easy to be stuck paddling in place.

Anyway, before he can say anymore metaplot conjecture, he falls off the modest little porch and lands in the dirt. ]

[ Claude hadn't taken it personally when Dimitri pushed his hand away, but he doesn't make any effort to reach out again as they leave the house. He knows that men hold their pride in high esteem after all, and it could be especially important to the chivalrous knights of Faerghus to never burden others or show weakness.

So he continues on, letting Dimitri think that he's infallible.

... Until it becomes very apparent that he is not. ]

D— [ He turns his head when he hears the pomf of someone hitting the ground, doing a double take when he sees that Dimitri's collapsed. ] Dimitri?!

[ Closing the distance between them so that he can kneel at his side, he takes hold of Dimitri's arm to help him up. ]

You're not looking good, my friend.

[ It would be nice if he were invincible, and if he were immune to trifle things like illness. But he is not, and it's only after several days here that he has to admit to himself that he's under the weather. Mostly because he's faceplanted into the dirt.

Claude had to help carry a bear here, and now he has to help carry an idiot back. ]

I... think I feel worse than I look.

[ Not point in posturing anymore. He groans as he pushes himself back up to his feet, suddenly feverish. ]

Apologies, Claude—I should be all right. [ he is going to pitch forward again in 2 seconds if claude lets him go ]

I'm sure you will.

[ Because what else is he supposed to say? That Dimitri could very well have caught the illness that seems to be halving the population of this town, for which they currently don't have a cure or solution?

He'd never really considered the possibility of them actually dying on this train.

But he's taking several leaps ahead. For the moment, he focuses on what he can do for Dimitri now, and that is winding an arm around his torso so that he can do his best to heft Dimitri up onto his legs. ]

But why don't you leave things to me for a bit?

[ Though it becomes apparent enough that Dimitri's legs are doing him no favours, so with one arm around his back, he hooks the other behind his knees so that he can lift him up. It's... a strain, but he thinks he can manage. ]

[ Well, one second he's being supported up, and the next second, his feet have left the ground. The sudden lurch catches him by surprise, but he doesn't have much energy for floundering about or lashing out. He does turn his head, trying to shoot Claude a wide-eyed look. ]

Um, Claude.

[ Is he really going to be able to do this. Not to insult Claude's ability, but raw, brute strength never seemed like his strong suit, and Dimitri is heavier than he might look.

Also, it's a little weird. ]

I appreciate it, but are you... quite sure about this?

[ Dimitri is heavier than he looks, and Claude's sure that the armour he insists on wearing doesn't help. Still, Claude isn't as dainty as he looks either. ]

Doubting my abilities, your Highness? I think you should spend more time worrying after yourself.

[ And he means that. Sure, it's not the most comfortable position for him, but he keeps a steady hold on Dimitri as he sets off toward the little apartment Dimitri's device had fashioned for them. It gets harder the further he walks, his banter eventually dying off as he clenches his jaw to keep from breathing too heavily in the hopes that Dimitri doesn't notice the strain his weight is taking on him. If he's lucky, Dimitri will be too out of it to even notice.

The way that his arms eventually go rigid save the occasional tremor, his steps stiffer. He briefly entertains the thought of letting Dimitri walk the rest of the way, but his pride keeps him from giving up.

Eventually, he's slumping against the door of their tiny accommodations, struggling inside and doing his best to collapse gracefully against the closest horizontal surface.

He just needs a minute. ]

[ Their walk back to their arrangements proceeds in silence, with Dimitri mostly zoning out and turning into dead weight once it's clear that Claude can support him (though not without some struggle, sorry, Claude). On the bright side, Dimitri does not notice his faltering at all.

Mostly on account of the fact that he also flops over weightlessly as soon as Claude collapses, landing face-first in the small, mildly uncomfortable mattress.

For a while, he just rests there, before he responds, voice muffled by the covers. ]

Thank you, Claude.

[ He lies there motionlessly. After a long moment, gravely, ]

I am... unwell.

[ Despite everything, Claude snorts at that, pushing himself up on (only SLIGHTLY) shaky arms as he takes in Dimitri's prone form.

He's more worried than he shows, given that he's not a healer in any capacity, and the fact that he knows so little about the illness in this town. Only that it appeared one day, there doesn't seem to be a cure, and it results in death, every time.

There's been plenty of trials and tribulations on this train so far, but they've been able to move from one car to the next, clutching at the myth of progression, and solidifying the narrative that they're just travellers here in the end. They appear, do their jobs and move on, and eventually, they'll reach the end and head home. ]

I can see that. [ He pats Dimitri's shoulder, pushing him so that he's lying on his back. ] But don't worry, I've nursed plenty of ailments.

[ Self-induced schemes gone wrong, but he projects confidence for Dimitri's sake.

And a little for his own. He doesn't quite want to face the very real possibility that Dimitri could be seriously ill. It's... scary.

So instead he wanders over to the next room, grabbing a hand towel and wetting it before returning to place it on Dimitri's forehead. ]

Carrying Turner must've really taken it out of you.

(no subject)

minecraftia ; for toko

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

Danganronpa Spoilers

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

minecraftia ; for zuko

no subject

no subject

minecraftia

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject