#wing horizontal drain

[daehanim]

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[theteasetwrites]

The Beginning Is the End Is the Beginning

Chapter 98: Till Death Do Us Part

❧ Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Female Reader ❧ Era: Season 11 ❧ Pronouns: she/her ❧ Warnings: language, scary situation, blood and gore, character death, typical TWD stuff ❧ Word Count: 6.2k

❧ In This Chapter: With walkers swarming the Commonwealth, Daryl and the others must act quick to get everyone to safety, including you. When the citizens of the Commonwealth come to the governor's gates, there will be Hell to pay.

❧ A/N: Hey guys how convenient that Daryl Dixon is a universal blood donor all of a sudden, amirite? So we're at the finale, and don't get me started. This whole episode is so rushed and lazy and forced and AHH. It really was not the ending we deserved imo, but I'll do what I can with it. For me, the joy in writing this final episode is just the moments between Daryl and his wife. They're so cute. Anyway, please keep in mind that this chapter might be kind of unrealistic and way too convenient because it covers the events of the finale and that's just how they wrote it. I am working with what I got besties.

“Help me!”

He kicked open the glass door, bellowing at the top of his lungs. “Help!”

In and out of consciousness, you could see him, hear him. If you could bring yourself to touch him, you would raise your hand to touch his cheek, but you were numb. Your arms were numb, especially your left. That was when you felt a brief sting, somehow both sharp and dull. There was a tingle running down your arm, where the blood dripped. The taste of pennies on your tongue was more than just faint now, it filled your mouth. 

“You’ll be okay.”

Daryl…

During the brief moments that you could feel, you no longer felt his arms. Your body was laying horizontally now, on some lumpy mattress, in a familiar room. The hospital lobby, where you’d come just a week ago, in much more pain than you were now. Somehow, though, you were more drained, more flimsy. Between slow, laborious blinks, you saw a soldier, running towards the exit, his gun drawn. Another followed, carrying a white case. 

They ran past you, turning the corner. No longer could you see Daryl, perhaps he had been a figment of your imagination. It’d happened before. But no, you heard him again, some words that morphed into each other, creating an unintelligible string, but there were brief clarities.

“...Help…wife…shot…blood…”

A yell, and his body fell, a flash of blue from the painted wing on his vest as he hit the floor. Outside, the herd was approaching. You could see through clouded vision, just through the windows that stretched along the wall. Moreover, you saw the door, completely ajar. 

It took all your strength to wake yourself fully, to lift yourself from the gurney. Stumbling past Daryl’s body, you pushed the first door, a great pang coursing through your left arm. Your right would have to do the heavy lifting, so when it came to the other door, you simply threw yourself against it, your right side pushing hard as a stray walker lodged its hand between the doors. 

A strained grunt escaped your bloody lips as you pushed with all the strength of your good side. It wasn’t enough. The walker pushed, too. With one burst of strength, you stepped back to launch yourself against the glass, the pressure sending the walker back a few feet. The move bought you time to scramble to a nearby desk and push it forward. 

“Come… on…” you muttered, barely able to speak, but your delirious frustration was enough to provoke you. 

You slid the desk towards the door, and just at the nick of time, before the walker could get wedge its body, you pushed it snug against the jamb. That was about all you could do. 

Without much strength left in your legs to hold you up, you steadily crawled to your knees, dragging yourself to Daryl’s body. You pulled yourself with your right arm, desperately making yourself move. “Daryl,” you croaked, reaching out to try to turn him over onto his back. “Daryl, wake up.”

He’d been bludgeoned by a dull weapon, a nasty set of bruises beginning to form on his head and eye. When you were close enough, you lifted his face with shaky, cold fingers. The walkers outside began to pile up, their rotting bodies pounding against the glass doors and windows. With all your might, you tried to pull Daryl’s unconscious body to no avail, it only weakened you more. 

A pounding started in your head, followed by increasingly clouded vision. You blinked several times, each one becoming heavier. As much as you tried to avoid it, gravity was pulling you down, your good hand still grasped tight around Daryl’s wrist as you tried to pull him and you to safety. 

Breath labored, unconsciousness closing in, you made one last tug on his arm, but you didn’t get far before the darkness took over, and your head hit the cold, sterile tile.

At that point, your hand was loosely in Daryl’s, frozen in time. 

He woke with a flinch, and one hell of a headache. 

He’d had worse, but any blow hard enough to knock him out wasn’t to be underestimated. The first face he saw was Carol’s, stoic and cold as always, but comforting, and worried. Confusion settled in when he registered the faint sound of crying. A small moment of panic struck him—he remembered what had happened. If there was crying, there was death. 

He sat up, looking to his left, where the crying was coming from. When the first thing he saw was red, his heart stopped. The worst, however, hadn’t come to fruition. At least, not from this view. Upon the gurney on the other side of the hospital room was Luke, his leg had been severed just below the knee, where the blood was pooling, dripping down the bed. 

Surrounding him were more familiar faces, Connie, Kelly, Magna, and Yumiko—the people Luke was closest to. That’s why they were crying. He didn’t have much time left. Daryl could tell, he’d seen enough people close to death before. 

It didn’t concern him now, it was out of his hands. The slight tickle of the gauze wrapped around his head reminded him of the last conscious moments, the last things he did. As he stripped the bandage from his head, he began to rise from the gurney, already reassuring Carol, “I’m fine.”

“Daryl,” she said, trying to steady him as he rose to his feet. “No you’re not.”

As he moved his disheveled hair away from his face, his heart sank to see you, still unconscious, lying in a hospital bed just feet away from where he lay moments ago. You were pale, limp… nearly lifeless. Nearly was the operative word. 

Upon your left shoulder, closer to your chest, there was a small white towel, stained red where it was soaking up the blood from the wound. His eyes trailing to the ground, he saw the pile of discarded cloths, all turned red and bled completely through. 

He stepped forward slowly, as if careful not to wake you. He was too used to moving like that, to seeing you asleep and conforming to the routine he’d set into place. Never wake (Y/N), she needs her beauty sleep. Well, that’s what you would say. You needed your beauty sleep. 

It struck him, of course, that he couldn’t wake you. “She’s lost a lot of blood,” he said. 

The sobbing from Luke’s bed became louder, more impending of what was inevitable. Cracking voices murmured well-intended reassurances that were untrue nonetheless. You’re okay… Stay with us… 

His heart did ache for them, for Luke. As stoic as he was, he’d lost too many people to be heartless. Some would think he would be immune to it by now, but it was never easy. That was a truth both you and he knew well. It was strange how much you’d both seen together, without ever losing the other. Now, you’d come too close again. Too close to that precipice of death, a fate that soon would welcome Luke.

“All the doctors are gone and the nurses and the medicine,” Carol informed him. 

It was just as he’d feared, after he saw the Commonwealth soldier carrying a white crate just before he was knocked out. 

“Where?”

“We heard Pamela took everything, and she’s holed up in her gated community, and she left the rest of the Commonwealth to fend for itself.”

Course she did, he thought. He’d been trained by you, more or less, not to use the word “bitch.” He’d learned it was a degrading term for women, especially when used by men, and that it should only be used to describe a particularly terrible kind of woman. If he ever used the word in front of Robin, he was sure he’d be sentenced to a night on the couch.

However, in this particular situation, he felt you would agree that it was an apt term to use. Besides, she’d shot you. Any sympathy for her he ever had, though minimal to start with, had evaporated by now. Rich bitch. 

“Well, that’s where we go,” he replied.

“There’s too many troopers,” she said, turning to lift the cloth upon your wound. The blood hadn’t soaked through just yet, maybe the bleeding was slowly, she figured. Still, the lack of blood in your body was becoming dangerous. “Hoping to find somebody to get us in without a fight.”

“What about Mercer? He knows people on the inside.”

“Yeah, Max thinks so. There’s a team after him. Some of the others are looking for the kids, and they’re gonna meet us back here.”

His patience was losing its hold on him, it always did when lives were hanging in the balance. Yours most importantly. Medical supplies, that’s what you needed. If it was being hoarded in the governor’s mansion, he’d storm the building and take the head honcho out himself if he needed to. 

“So we just wait?”

“No, we’re gonna take care of her, and you.”

Carol’s attention focused back on Luke, his dying words strangled in his throat as he gasped for breath. The blood must’ve been pooling in his lungs now, and he had minutes, most likely moments, left of life. 

Daryl looked his way, too, watching bloodied hands cling to each other, making promises to the dying man. When he faded away, his friends huddled around him, arms outstretched over each other as they sobbed. Magna had been sure to get the brain, inserting the knife from the base of his neck. It was the most respectful way to do it, any survivor would know.

When he couldn’t bear their heart wrenching sobs any longer, his gaze wandered, falling upon an IV kit. If he could prevent that same fate from meeting you, he would. There was no hesitation, no doubt in his mind about what he needed to do. 

“I’m gonna give ‘er blood,” he said, determined in his step as he grabbed the medical kit. “You know how to do this?”

“Yeah, but your types have to match.”

Eleven years of knowing each other and the question, “What’s your blood type?” had never come up. You’d asked Daryl all kinds of other inane questions, questions he might’ve found silly at the time, but he always looked back at your curiosity with fondness. That was one of the most beautiful things about you, how you smiled so bright when he’d reveal the most trivial piece of information about himself—his favorite color, his strangest dream, his most embarrassing childhood memories… It wasn’t really trivial. He knew that. Nothing you could ever say or do would be trivial or silly or unimportant to him. 

But you’d never asked about his blood type, and you’d never told him yours. That, as a matter of fact, didn’t even matter.

He ripped the plastic wrap of the IV open with his teeth, then further tore it with his hands. “Mine goes with anybody,” he said. “Merle used to make me sell it when I was a kid for money.” Finally, it would actually pay off. 

As he held the tube of the IV between his teeth, he rolled up his sleeve, the sudden appearance of the rabbit on his arm reminding him of you, as it always did. It was for you, and Robin, and now Wes. It represented everything good and pure in his life, and that was all what you had given him. It was everything he’d sworn he’d protect, from the moment he met you. It was always you.

Carol took the other end of the IV, carefully inserting the needle into the vein of your arm. Thank God you were out—needles weren’t your friend. Even thinking about an IV made you a little lightheaded, so it was good that you were temporarily excused from thinking.

She pinned the other side of the IV at the inside of his elbow, just above your rabbit. Merle’s little childhood scheme had one other benefit: Daryl, unlike you, wasn’t afraid of needles. 

The once translucent tube turned red as his blood transferred to you, who so desperately needed it. He’d give you everything—the skin off his back, the marrow of his bones, the air in his lungs. Every inch of him belonged to you, not anyone else on God’s green earth. 

He made a promise to you that day, that beautiful day you were married. He said he’d be yours until death, in sickness and in health. 

His gaze was held hostage by your face, until a loud clatter from somewhere else inside the hospital demanded his attention. If he’d been in any other situation, he’d immediately run to investigate, but he was tethered to you by blood, his body intertwined with yours, quite literally. 

Instead, Carol picked up her bow. “I’m going to sweep the hospital, make sure the others are okay.”

“We’re coming too,” said Magna.

Carol turned to Daryl just before she left. “You good?”

He only nodded, every hair on his body standing on end. If the walkers got in now, you wouldn’t be ready to go. He’d already strained himself by carrying you, he wasn’t sure he could get very far again. He’d try, God knows he’d try, but he couldn’t risk the possibility of his strength not being enough to save you. 

He needed luck, and relying on luck was a dangerous game. Then again, there wasn’t anyone alive that hadn’t relied on luck for the past eleven years. There wasn’t much else to rely on. 

Soon, he was alone, with you. He’d been alone with you so many times before, so many beautiful times. Even in moments like this, in which the space between you was filled with silence, there was so much there. Even with you unconscious, there was that connection. 

He didn’t know how much time had passed, maybe forty-five minutes, maybe only ten. He became lost in your face, the face he loved so much. Absentminded fingers made their home upon your hairline, stroking your hair back gently. He’d done it so many times, a way to lull you to sleep or calm you when you’d be nearly hyperventilating with tears. He wasn’t sure why he did it now, when there was no way you’d be able to feel that comfort.

Maybe he did it for himself. Maybe he just needed to touch you, to imagine some other reality far, far away. A reality where you weren’t hurt, where nothing could ever hurt you. That’s all he ever wanted for you, from the moment he met you. He just wanted you safe. 

If you’d never told him that night, taken his hands in yours and told him how much you cared for him, he wasn’t sure he’d ever have the courage to confess himself. There must’ve been another universe wherein you never drank too much that night, or you never felt what you did for him. In any universe, in all those universes, he still loved you, and he still devoted whatever time he had left to keeping you safe, happy, loved. 

Even if he had never been the one you chose, for whatever reason you chose him, he would’ve died a thousand deaths for you, the only woman he could ever love this way. The purest heart, the most precious gem, like the one hanging around your neck.

Suddenly, time stopped as your eyes seemed to flutter just a bit, though he swore it was his imagination. No, it was true—you blinked hard, then let your eyes peel open slowly, as if you were afraid to look.

When your hazy eyes fixed on Daryl, you took in a sharp breath. His lips parted softly, one corner just barely curling upwards. “Hey,” he spoke in almost just a breath. His presence was a momentary comfort, but as you became more aware of your body, the pain in your arm, the hospital bed upon which you lay, an unstoppable anxiety took over. 

“What’s… what’s happening?”

His hand kept smoothing over your hair, though you tried to lift up your head, looking frantically around the room. The last thing you remembered was a walker, and a herd of walkers coming towards you. They were bound to be close by. 

“Wh—where are we? Daryl?” Your voice was a frightened quiver as your eyes became drawn to the bloody rag upon your left shoulder. Eyes wide, you looked back up at him, his hair a disheveled mess, the skin surrounding his right eye black and bruised. “What happened?” You tried to raise your left arm, but in it was the IV. Just the sight sent a nausea through you, your head resting back down upon the pillow as dizziness plagued you. “Oh, God…”

Not only that, but the left sleeve of your jacket was soaked through with blood. The skin of your arm dyed red, too. You knew what happened, but you weren’t going to let yourself admit it. 

“Shh, it’s okay. You’re at the hospital,” he said quietly, his own voice much shakier than you wanted it to be. When his voice faltered, you knew something was wrong. It wasn’t his words, it was always his voice that gave him away. 

Still, his hand stroked your hair back in an effort to calm you, to let you know he was there, and that everything would be all right. He wouldn’t let you die, he knew that. That wasn’t in his plan. It just wasn’t going to happen, no way. He was still breathing, still pumping blood. If he needed to pump every last drop of blood inside of him into you, he would. He was planning on it, in fact. He was prepared to do anything. 

Your eyes were trained on him sharply, yet with so many questions. What happened? Where is everyone? Are you all right? You were thinking of everything, of everyone except you, but you kept coming back to one question that couldn’t escape you.

“Am I gonna die?”

“No, no,” he said. Under his words, your voice began to crack. Tears were coming, you knew it, and he knew it. But it was okay, it was right. There was never anything weak about crying. You felt weak, but it takes some strength to cry, so couldn’t be weak. He knew that more than anyone. “You’re not gonna die.”

“It… it… Daryl, it feels like I’m going to die.” Your voice sped up in panicked crying, breaths going much faster than your lungs were prepared for. “What about—about Robin, and Westley? I need to see them before… I can’t just leave them, and you—I can’t leave you…”

“Shh… You’re not gonna die, you’re fine. You’re fine… You’ll see them again, you will. And I’ll take you home, things will be all right again, you’ll see. This ain’t the end.”

Glassy eyes squeezed out little crystal tears, falling over your cheeks. The salty drops pooled in the corners of your lips, diluting the copper taste in your mouth. If it’s not the end, then why does it feel like it?

“But Daryl…”

“This ain’t the end,” he repeated. “I won’t let you go.”

A thick fog distorted your vision, overwhelming your mind. As your eyelids became weighed down, you struggled to stay alert, but another bout of unconsciousness was closing in, like walls tumbling down all around you. Daryl’s visage became blurred, his features losing definition no matter how hard you fought it. 

You couldn’t see his worried expression, and you couldn’t feel his other hand softly batting your cheek, shaking your head. “(Y/N)?” He leaned in closer, speaking louder, though you were out like a light. That couldn’t be good, not at all. You needed treatment. The blood was helping, but you were losing it faster than he could give it. If he could keep you awake, he knew he was keeping you alive. “(Y/N)? Come on, wake up. Come on, angel.”

Crashes and bangs resounded as the impending doom of the hungry herd became more urgent. Carol rushed into the room, proclaiming that the hospital had been breached. 

“I can’t leave,” Daryl protested. “I can’t leave ‘er.”

More failed attempts to wake you, more desperate pleas that fell on deaf ears. 

The only solution, the only way out of this alive, was the Estates. The Miltons and the Commonwealth gentry lived there, and now, they were hiding there, hoarding the last of the medical supplies. 

Night had fallen when they reached the safehouse. Tomi, Yumiko’s brother, was a doctor, and a good one, too. He treated you there, doing what he could to first and foremost remove the bullet. 

The doctor lifted your eyelids manually, using a small flashlight to check your status. “She’s in a fragile state,” he remarked to Daryl. He lifted the cloth to uncover your wound. It was dark red, nearly soaking the entire fabric. “It’s good that you gave her blood. I’ll do what I can.”

That was an hour ago now.

At least now, you were stable, still laying on the hospital bed you’d been brought in with. Daryl didn’t want to touch you for fear of disturbing you, but damn, did he want you to wake up. You’d been shot before, you’d been hurt before, but your body was still weak from giving birth. Even Tomi said it was lucky that you hadn’t bled out before you got there. 

When you began to awake, Daryl stood to his feet, leaning over you to brush back your hair as you came to. It was a dizzying experience, waking up in some unfamiliar home. You didn’t see anyone for the first several seconds, you just looked up at the ceiling, allowing your mind to catch up with your eyes. 

It was like you knew exactly where he was just by feeling his presence. You turned your head to face him, with heavy eyes and parched lips. But those heavy eyes lit up with sparkle, and those parched lips opened up into a wide, toothy grin. “Daryl,” you sighed, every bit of pain leaving your body as soon as you saw him. It felt like coming home. 

His mouth curled into its own smile, a giddy, boyish smirk. Even if you had no idea where you were, or what was happening, all you needed to know, really, was that he was all right, and he was here. That was all you needed. 

“Hey, crazy woman. How do you feel?”

Your eyes fluttered closed for a moment as your face scrunched into a playful grimace at his words. “I feel like an idiot,” you said. “Is Maggie okay?”

He shook his head, amused and bewildered by your concern for Maggie. “She’s fine,” he said. “You saved ‘er.”

“Mm… Spur of the moment decision. Didn’t really think I was gonna get shot.” You chuckled under your breath, and as you tried to lift your left arm, you realized it was suspended in a cast, wrapped tight around your shoulder. “Oh…”

“Doctor said you’re gonna be jus’ fine,” he said proudly. “But you scared the shit outta me… Again.”

“And now I’ve been shot in both shoulders,” you said, your right hand gesturing to the right shoulder, the very first place you’d been shot. “That’s got to be good luck or something, right?”

“Sure. Just don’t get shot again, for Christ’s sake. You’re gonna give me a heart attack one of these days.”

Though he was dead serious, you let out a snort as you reached your free hand up to bring his head down until his lips met yours. “I love you,” you said as you let go of him, but with a furrowed brow, you noticed the terrible black eye and the colossal bruise across his forehead. As you swept back his hair, you turned serious this time. “What happened to your face?”

Now he smiled, once again amused by your concern for him rather than yourself. “Just a black eye. I’ve had worse.”

Only you would be worried about such a minor injury. If Daryl came home with a hangnail, you’d be worried. “That’s a big one,” you said, tracing your fingertip over the bruise, never touching it, only hovering. “I’ve never seen you with one that bad, baby.” Damn that sling your arm was in. It prevented you from grabbing both his cheeks and pulling him against you so he could use your chest as a pillow. “I don’t like it.”

He laughed under his breath, trying not to garner too much attention from the others. “Sorry, princess. If I could get rid of it for ya I would.”

“You still look handsome,” you cooed. “My big, strong—”

“(Y/N)!” Aaron’s voice cut off your imminent embarrassment of Daryl. 

Your eyes shot open as you lifted your head a little too fast for Daryl’s liking. “Easy,” he said, but you sat up with his help. 

“Aaron!” Daryl quickly stepped aside, allowing Aaron to speed across the room. He wrapped you in his good arm, kissing your forehead. “How long have you been here?”

“We came back through the herd,” he huffed, his voice already turning serious. When he pulled away, he looked worriedly at Daryl. As your head volleyed between the two men, your eyes widened in preemptive panic. 

“What happened?” you asked. “Did something happen? Is everyone all right? Lydia… Where’s Lydia? And Jerry, and… and…” Even just speaking so rapidly had you running out of breath. 

“Take it easy,” said Daryl, his hand holding yours. “Everythin’s all right.”

But you knew there was something wrong, the way Aaron looked. He looked like you when you were troubled, when you were trying to figure out how to tell someone bad news. “What is it, Aaron? Just tell me.”

The first thing that came to your mind, of course, was Lydia. That was what it had to be. Aaron knew how much you cared for her, so did Daryl. They both seemed hesitant to say anything. Daryl looked distraught, too, as if something truly terrible had happened. 

You didn’t have to wait for an answer. Lydia herself appeared soon after, standing idly in the archway across the room. You breathed a heavy sigh of relief for just a moment. She was alive, unless you were dreaming, but you couldn’t be dreaming. Everything made too much sense to be a dream.

“Lydia,” you sighed, but she didn’t move. Half her body was hidden behind the wall, you realized, and in her eyes, she seemed to want to smile, but her lips were quivering, as if she was about to cry.

Will someone please tell me what the hell is happening?

She came forward slowly, her eyes not bearing to meet yours. When her full figure started coming closer, you noticed something off—the left sleeve of her sweatshirt seemed to hang loosely, her hand nowhere to be seen. You didn’t need anyone to tell you now. 

“Oh, Lydia.”

She broke down crying then, stumbling towards you. You yourself had only one arm able to hold her, but you held her tight, her tears falling onto the crook of your neck. 

Still holding her, you looked up at Aaron, searching for questions. “What happened?” You had a feeling, of course. 

“She got bit,” he replied. “We, uh… We lost Elijah in the herd. Lydia was reaching for him, trying to hold onto him.”

It seemed so much like Lydia, so much like something you would do, too. If it had been Daryl, you never would’ve let go until the last possible second, and for Lydia, that last possible second was the moment a walker’s teeth dug into the flesh of her arm. 

And you knew, of course, that all Lydia could think about now was him. Finding him. “We’ll find him,” you assured her, combing your hand through dark, silky brown hair. “I promise you. Everything will be all right.”

Gunshots. A sudden burst of appalled screams coming from outside. You turned towards the sounds. As much as you wanted to believe you were safe, you weren’t. The dead were still flooding the streets of the Commonwealth. The walls of the estates, where you were now, were keeping the dead out, but they were also keeping out the civilians. The poor, the working class. They were out there, outside the walls. 

From your limited view out the window, you could see guards on the inside, their guns raised and ready to shoot. 

“What’s going on?” asked Ezekiel, and suddenly you became aware of the rest of the people around you. Thank God everyone was safe, but it wouldn’t be right to let the people outside the walls die just because they weren’t one of the fortunate. It couldn’t be like this, not anymore. The world wasn’t built to be like this. 

“They’re shooting anyone that climbs the gates,” said Mercer. You watched the armored soldier move across the room, picking up a gun and cocking it. Ezekiel approached him, also armed with a gun. “The truck is gassed up with some reserves in the rear.” Mercer’s gaze fell on Aaron, then to you. He seemed to have sympathy in his eyes, even a sense of guilt. “It’s enough to get you home. We can sneak you out the back. This isn’t your fight, these aren’t your people.”

“Yes, they are,” replied Ezekiel, in that voice of his you knew all too well to be his kingly voice. Robin always admired him so. You knew why. You did, too. “And so are you.” He paused for a moment, looking around at the others. When he spoke again, you knew he was going to make a stand. “You may not think this place is worth saving, and I get that, given how they treated us. But it’s worth it to me. The people are worth it, and I’m not gonna allow them to fall without a fight. Not today. I’m with you. Who else?”

“Yeah.” Aaron was the first to speak up. That was just who he was. You were proud of him. You always were. “We can do more than just save ourselves. We need to.”

More followed suit—Connie, Kelly, Eugene, Lydia, Maxine, Rosita… It felt like the way it had felt so many times before. The people were different, save yourself and a few others, but it was what Rick had fought for. It was the family that made everything else worth it. You couldn’t help but think of the beginning, how those bombs had dropped on Atlanta and struck fear into your heart. 

Back then, you didn’t think you’d live to see the sun come up the next day. For eleven years since then, you’d seen thousands upon thousands of days. Moments became memories, and time never stopped because time was yours to make. It wasn’t going to stop now, either. There was too much to be done, too much to change. 

It was time to make a stand.

Daryl didn’t let you move a muscle, of course. You couldn’t blame him. The last time you’d convinced him to let you into the line of fire, you ended up getting shot. Still, it didn’t keep you from watching everything that unfolded. After all, you had told Daryl, you were going to need to write it all down in your journal, for posterity. 

From your vantage point, you saw Mercer, followed by dozens of armed soldiers, approaching the governor. She stood at the gates, just watching the civilians clamoring to get in. “Lower your weapons!” Mercer bellowed, though Pamela’s soldiers seemed conflicted. 

“Arrest them,” she said. 

Even her general gave her a questioning look. “Ma’am…” 

That’s when your people poured in between tanks, guns at the ready. Through binoculars, you kept an eye on Daryl, who filed in with Carol and Gabriel. Ezekiel led another group from the other flank. “Back up! Back up!” he yelled to Milton’s guards. They stepped back, but kept their weapons up. You couldn’t tell from this angle, but it looked like she was outnumbered, or maybe they were equal. In any case, Pamela had some things to answer for. 

The woman did shoot you, but you didn’t much care about that. What she was doing to the Commonwealth, what she was about to let happen to these people outside the gates, was inexcusable. 

“Traitors!” Milton yelled at Mercer. In the distance, the crying, pleading voices of citizens as they banged on the gates resounded. Faintly, you swore you could hear the impending growls of the dead as they made their way closer. Something needed to be done quickly, before it was too late. 

“No,” replied Mercer. “You are, Governor. You disappeared hundreds of citizens, led the dead to our doorstep. And now you’ve left thousands out there to die.”

The shouting and clamoring became louder as the walkers steadily approached. You swallowed hard, just wishing you were out there, able to do something. “Come on, someone open the gates,” you mumbled to yourself. 

“Let us in!” a man cried, shaking the bars of the gate furiously. You adjusted the binoculars to try to look past the crowd, but it was hard not to. There were so many. They began to cry, desperate for a way out. You knew it all too well. They were losing their home, and that had happened to you more times than you could count. 

Just when you were about to lose your cool, Gabriel lowered his weapon, crossing over to the gate. It was a peculiar move, but you knew what he was doing—he was going to open the gate, no matter what happened. 

“General,” said Pamela.

“Stop!” the general cried.

“We’re opening the gate and letting these people in,” Gabriel replied, his voice calm and his words final. “I’ll kill anyone who tries to stop me.”

The general had her gun raised, pointed towards Gabriel. “Stop or we will be forced to shoot you!”

“We’ll fire back,” you heard Carol reply, her gun trained on the general. 

Gabriel didn’t stop, and you knew in that moment that you would have to make special note of his bravery. When you first met the preacher, you didn’t think much of him. In fact, at one point, you hated him for selling out your people, claiming you were all “evil.” Well, that was a long time ago now, and some days you still thought back to that moment in the church, when Daryl had been taken by the Saviors. Gabriel was a good man, even if God wasn’t.

“Shoot him!” Pamela commanded.

Gabriel raised his gun, about to shoot the lock, but one of the guards was about to follow Pamela’s orders—he held his gun to Gabriel’s head.

“Stop!”

You could recognize that voice from anywhere. Of course, it was Daryl. He stepped forward, no guns in his hands. It worried you a little, your heart racing as you chewed nervously on your lips. There were now guns trained on him, and he had no way to defend himself. Maybe all he needed, though, were his words. Daryl was never much of a public speaker, but you wholeheartedly believed he could do just about anything. 

“We all deserve better than this,” he said, looking towards the gate. He turned back to the governor. “You built this place to be like the old world. That was the fuckin’ problem.”

No one ever said Daryl was polite. 

“If I open the gates, the dead will get in, not just the living.”

“If you don’t, you’re gonna lose everything anyway.” You couldn’t help but smile to yourself, just a little. It was going to be so wonderful to write about your own husband’s bravery now. With Gabriel and the others, you only paraphrased their words. With Daryl, you’d be sure to memorize what he said verbatim. Well, maybe you’d leave out the cursing, just so Robin and Westley could read it. 

“We got one enemy,” he added, before making his way towards the gate. “We ain’t the walking dead.”

That seemed to sway the general. She commanded the guards to lower their weapons. Never in all the years you’d known him had you been more proud of Daryl. You knew he’d think it wasn’t a big deal, that he would’ve done what anyone else would’ve done, and that Gabriel was the real hero, but maybe you were a little biased. Just a little.

As Gabriel opened the gate, Daryl and the others helped pull it back, letting in a stampede of crying, terrified citizens. They flowed in, some tripping over others, but they all made it just at the nick of time. The walkers were pushed back by the gate, none of them making it in, but it would only be a matter of time before they put too much pressure on the bars. You’d seen it before, the weight of just one herd. If they get hungry enough, they’ll power through anything. 

With Pamela arrested, and the last bastion of the Commonwealth’s forces finally banding together against the dead, it was time to fight the real enemy, just as Daryl said. Quickly, you scrawled everything down with your good hand. It was history in the making, you were sure of that. 

~

Thanks for reading! Likes, comments, and reblogs of any kind are always appreciated!

Series Masterlist Next Chapter ➳

[goatsludge]

Once again

LBT-1961AF Chest Rig, Gen.1, OD Green, 2002 Buckles, No Labels

Very similar to the AWS Strike Vest in terms of layout and construction, but definitely loaded with lots of little force multipliers and creature comforts that make this rig more contemporary despite being a 20+ year-old design at this point.

More capacity for mags, an 'okay' map pocket, and lots of additional pouches really push the format to its limit for the overall size. If one were to make a swiftclip-able/PC placard-style version of this design, it would not be out of place in the modern age.

The outer radio pockets each have a generously-sized utility pocket, which have a removable elastic 'lid' to use as a dump pouch as well as a small frag grenade pocket on the inner sides.

The rig has four double M4 mag pouches (holding 8 mags total in the dedicated pouches) and a double pistol pouch that can either hold two double stack or four single stack mags. Also good for holding multitools.

The 'AF' in the designation refers to 'Air Force' as this variation of the LBT-1961 was designed with three dedicated pockets for MS2000 Strobes for CCT guys to mark landing strips.

Also notice how the flaps are sewn with a box stitch to hold the velcro in place - later generations of these rigs would sew the flap velcro with a third horizontal line rather than an 'X' shape.

Inside the map pocket, there's an 'envelope'/EDC style holster that simply velcro's in place. An extended 'wing' off the leading edge of the holster holds one or two extra mags.

Honestly, this is probably the least usable feature on this rig given how awkward it is to access. Still neat that it was included all the same.

The H-Harness, while simple, was revolutionary for the time and elements of which like the velcro-adjustable rear cross-strap can still be observed with modern chest rig designs. The cable management flaps aren't spectacular, but it's good that they're there.

Note how the rear ends of the shoulder pads are 'squared' and simply terminate to 1" webbing, rather than folding off to the sides - this is another one of the ways you identify these as Gen.1 rigs.

Copious amounts of drain grommets on all the pouches.

It's very jarring to notice the difference in pricing for these rigs depending on the color you have - for instance, the 'pinky tan' versions of these oldschool rigs were used extensively by Navy Seals and AFSOC and currently go for several thousand dollars when they pop up.

But because this one is OD, and almost nobody has been seen using them, they're only worth about $300 at most and I actually ended up trading a helmet for mine lol.

[hamletisintown]

Fae people: Spiders

Scattered about in small villages, spiders sometimes seem more primitive or asocial than Insect Faes. It is a false assumption however ; their society is simply organized in a more horizontal way, with very little hierarchy. Every social unit, be it a village, a small regroupement or even just a family, decides together on everyone's roles and duties. When a decision must be made that might affect more spiders than just this one unit, such as matters of conflict and war, gatherings are organized for people to discuss, debate, and vote on the course of action. A council is often elected to oversee such debates, usually consisting on the oldest and wisest, as well as the strongest and most admired members of the community. A small group of people with varied expertise, able to give advice on different matters, and rule a decision when the community is too divided to come to one by themselves.

Spiders can boast of a few special abilities that differentiates them from other Faes and greatly shaped their way of life.

>Multiple pairs of eyes. Like most people, spiders have 2 eyes that can see in the same spectrum of light as normal humans. The secondary eyes however allow them to perceive some ultraviolets, which can be useful for better distinguishing certain plants and animals that bear patterns only visible in this spectrum. Some nocturnal spiders can even see in the infrared spectrum which useful for seeing in the dark.

>Weaving. Spiders use their hair as thread to weave cloth, rope, and even magic! Most spiders know how to weave at least some simple creations, as it is one of the staples of their culture. Clothes are an important means of self-expression and standing, and many spiders, especially those that are well-off or are clothes weavers themselves, will show off some beautiful colorful clothes.

Spider hair is made of different materials than other people's hair, and grows faster too. Many spiders and especially hunters and warriors will keep their hair long so they can use it on the fly if needed. Using thread and ropes to fight is one of the spiders' specialty, and tricky to counter when you're not used to it. Alternatively, spiders that don't weave much or at all regularly cut their hair and donate it to weaver workshops.

Some weaving arts have been passed down for generations in certain families. If regular weaving is already well consideredd, magic weaving is even more important for spiders. Its mysteries are well-guarded and it has brought spiders strength and protection against enemies for centuries. Some few magic weavers will specialize in weaving information into webs and become Archivist, a very small group of weavers dedicated to keeping history and other very important information alive in a hidden library.

>A second pair of arms. Like many Insects' wings, they can appear and disappear mostly at will (and like Insect's, clothes get in the way of them, which is why most spiders keep a lot of their torso uncovered, or covered with a layer of clothes that is easy to remove) and while they do require a bit of training to learn how to use them in tandem with their main arms and can be a bit much at times, they can truly boost a spider's speed and/or maneuverability in many activites such as fighting or weaving. Very rarely, a spider will be so skilled at what they do with their 4 arms that they might be able to sprout and use a 3rd pair. It is extremely hard as it requires a lot of focus, dexterity and training. A few legendary warriors and weavers are known to have had 6 arms.

>Venomous fangs. Spiders possess special glands that allow them to produce venom. The potency and effects of it can vary slightly from individual to individual, and some people don't produce venom at all. Dedicated hunters, or people with particularly potent or useful venom will regularly drain their glands and store the venom to use it later or sell it.

Spiders and Insects have a long history of not getting along well. The 2 groups simply have very different ways of seeing things. Spiders think of Insects as weak-willed, gregarious and clumsy, while Insects see spiders as primitive, cunning and scary people. Spiders sometimes have the reputation of being cowards, because of their fighting philosophy, relying on traps, poisoned weapons, and strategic hit-and-run ambushes. Such fighting style is adapted to smaller numbers of fighters. They themselves consider Insects cowards as well because they prefer to fight in bigger swarms and battalions.

[kariachi]

Randomized Fakemon...

Type: Ice/Bug

Abilities: Stalwart / Cursed Body

Stats: HP- 132 ; Atk- 43 ; Def- 67 ; SpAtk- 77 ; SpDef- 97 ; Spd- 62

Potential special wall... Cursed Body would help with that, but Stalwart is better for attackers... Maybe something that learns electric and water moves to take advantage of immunity to Lightningrod and Storm Drain? Electric/Water/Ice/Bug allows for no resisted attacks...

Replaces a bug move for a healing or status move on it's set?- would retain no resisted hits...

Some sort've bug related to the dead, maybe tied to alpine graves?

~~

Avalot-

The Worm Pokemon

Ice/Bug

Base Stage

A caterpillar-like pokemon with large, round yellow eyes, has a short round 'muzzle' with two small icicle-like fangs, leg/footless, main body is white with small icicle-like spikes running down the sides and back, underbelly is pale blue, has a yellow triangular 'fin' of sorts at the end of the tail similar to a small flag

Ability- Stalwart

BST- 294 (HP- 66 ; Atk- 43 ; Def- 40 ; SpAtk- 47 ; SpDef- 46 ; Spd- 48)

Evolves: Upon leveling passed lvl 30 after defeating 20+ pokemon

Moves (nonexhaustive): Pounce, Ice Fang, Thunder Fang, Haze, Chilling Water

"Despite living in frozen mountains, Avalot will still eat several times it's weight in meat before evolving. To facilitate this, they often parasitize Froslass caves." "This pokemon is known for it's laser focus, ignoring the world around it in favor of eating. As a result if often finds itself buried by snowstorms and small avalanches, in which case it will stick it's tail out to signal for it's Bostbite parent."

Bostbite-

The Frost Bug Pokemon

Ice/Bug

Final stage

A fat bee&fly-like pokemon with large angular yellow eyes and a no visible mouth, possesses one set of insectoid wings and two pairs of limbs on the thorax, is incredibly fluffy, fur is pale blue with dark blue striping along the back, limbs are black, carries itself horizontally primarily but can be seen moving bipedally, shown carrying an Avalot clutched in it's front limbs

Ability- Cursed Body

BST- 478 (HP- 132 ; Atk- 43 ; Def- 67 ; SpAtk- 77 ; SpDef- 97 ; Spd- 62)

Moves (nonexhaustive): Bug Buzz, Powder, Snowscape, Freeze Dry, Baton Pass, Roost, No Retreat, Ominous Wind

"Native to the high mountains, Bostbite spend their days searching out food for their Avalot young. Hikers are warned to keep their distance, for this pokemon has been known to hunt humans when food is scarce." "Thick fur allows this pokemon to shrug off the cold of the high mountains, as well as the attacks of it's opponents. Bostbite often form colonies at the site of avalanches."

.

[pinkpuffballdude]

if you follow this blog almost at all you may have guessed that I've started reading Lovecraft, and while it started as research for my own writing (love stealing lore) I'm actually really enjoying myself. while I fundamentally disagree with a lot of Lovecraft's basic premise, mainly the idea that Knowledge Itself will drive you insane, the way he describes things and gets across that horror is facinating. I'm someone for whom the horror lies in not trusting myself, and so often there is someone who shares in the horror (every single story I've read so far). It's an exbidition, or letters to a confidant, or a whole town who's affected and knows about and believes in the horror- to me, that's a comfort. having people around me to reassure me that yes, this is real, this is happening, I'm not delusional (here), and we can fight this. but for Lovecraft, the knowledge was the horror. knowing was the scary part, and he actually does a really good job of communicating that, getting across what exactly scares him about whatever thing of the day he's writing about. going into the Color out of Space knowing that the "indescribable color" is actually magenta takes a lot of the fear from the story, but the artistry is still there. cause yea! watching your friends stay on the poisioned land as it slowly kills them, drains the life and color from their bodies and eats them is horrifying! or from another story, the idea that Pluto can't be found until an alien species sends out their Psychic Beams to earth, beacuse they want to be found, and the newspapers just put out the discovery of a ninth planet- that's horrifying! that's really scary! even knowing that Pluto is no longer considered a planet, that it's basically a particularly big astroid with nothing on it, that concept compells me! even as he described Cthulhu, THE monster of his mythos, as just a green guy with a squid head and dragon wings and is his breathtakingly racist self in the process goodnes gracious, his description of R'leyh makes me think of an MC Esher painting, and Holy Fuck yea being in a place where you can't tell by sight or touch if something is horizontal or vertical? I fucking LOVE that! I'm stealing the shit out of it!

and that's not even mentioning all the things that reference Lovecraft and his work that I now understand better, even things like Wizard101 where one of the characters is named after the author of the Necronomicon, and is keeper of the Krokonomicon. it's similar to what some people are getting out of Dracula Daily, the knowledge of that thing everyone knows about but most people haven't actually read. there's just so many in jokes and references that I get now!

[iironwreath]

Common Ground [Ulysses]

Ulysses figured that if the succubus escaped, she’d be the second person to know—and then she wouldn’t know anything at all, because she’d be dead. Her curiosity was motivated by her will to live by appealing to Dicentra’s good side, but also existed nakedly and pure. She wanted to know more about Dicentra, plain and simple, and she was right there to ask. 

“You said you don’t eat food or water,” Ulysses said the following day. “What do you live on, then? If anything.”

“Souls.”

“Is that a joke?”

“Am I laughing?”

“I dunno, you could have a good poker-face.”

Dicentra sighed, arcing horizontally across the cage so her other shoulder took her weight. Her legs and tail curled closer to her body. “I’m half-serious. I eat food for pleasure, but what we need to sustain ourselves is the life-force of mortals.”

Ulysses shrivelled backwards. “Does that happen…passively?”

“No. I need to do it.” Dicentra’s eyes fluttered shut. The shadows made the shallows under her eyes deeper. “Unless your wizard friend has a hidden stash of humans for me to drain, I’m going to wither.”

“So you’re like a vampire?”

Dicentra’s eyes flew open to glare at her. “No, I don’t drink blood. It’s not the same.” Her wing-stumps flexed reflexively behind her—an angry tic?—and she winced. She used her pain to infuse more heat into the glare. “Most living things break down some sort of sustenance for energy. You eating food and drinking water is a form of that; are you a vampire?”

“Not that I’m aware of.”

“You could pass for one, the way you dress. Or are you the victim who falls for the vampire’s seduction?”

It was Uly’s turn to glower. 

—

“Does skin contact help with charming?”

“It makes no difference. I’m going to dispel your preconceived notions about succubi.” Dicentra paused. “And also probably confirm some others.”

“I don’t have that many,” Ulysses said, scratching their jaw. They’d been reading what they could find in Aldous’ archive. He probably had better information in his personal library. “Not because I don’t think of you in a stereotypical way, but because I don’t know much about fiends.”

“Do you think about me in a stereotypical way?” Dicentra asked.

“That’s for you to decide, I think.”

“Do you think I’d sleep with anything with a pulse?”

“Not really?”

“Then you have a head start.”

—

“Will they grow back?”

"You ask a lot of questions."

“You keep answering them. I’d make a shit apprentice if I didn’t ask questions. Not that he seems to think so. But if you’re telling me to fuck off, noted.”

Dicentra’s expression lost some of its edge. “They would, normally, if the bastard didn’t keep cutting them off.”

Ulysses pinched her lips and nodded—not just to acknowledge that they'd grow back, but that Aldous was, indeed, a bastard. She hoped that carried through. Dicentra nodded back.

—

“So,” Ulysses said, hands thrust deep in their pockets. “Gender.”

“What about it?”

“Aldous said you were a shapechanger,” Ulysses explained. “It got me wondering: are we misgendering you?”

Dicentra shook her head. “No. Our relationship with gender is as varied and complicated as yours. Our advantage comes from being able to change our bodies to match how we want to present, whether it be static or fluid or physically fluid even if our gender is static. I’m a woman, personally, but I have a sibling who’s very different from me.” 

Ulysses’ brows ascended towards her hairline. “You can have siblings?”

Dicentra frowned; not with fury or malice, but regret. “Forget I said anything.”

“Do you miss them?”

“Annoyingly, yes.”

“I don’t have any siblings,” Uly said, hoping to ease the sting of the admission with information about herself. Why they wanted to do that, they didn’t know. It was both impressive and depressing that Aldous made a literal devil—a supposed creature of evil—civil and enjoyable to talk to by comparison. “That I know of. I’m adopted.”

“Tragic.”

“Wait until you hear why.”

“Don’t tell me,” Dicentra warned. “I mean that.”

Ulysses shrugged. “Alright, I won’t tell you about my moonstone dragon mother.”

“Shut up. You’re kidding.”

“I’m not.”

“Explains you.” Dicentra twisted her restraints, remembered she couldn’t move her arms, and sagged into the bars. “Am I…misgendering you?”

Ulysses wanted to delve deeper, ask what Dicentra meant by Uly's moonstone dragon mother "explaining" her. She could think of why, but she wanted to know what Dicentra picked up on, what her unique perspective was.

At the same time, she didn’t. It was an invitation for mockery. “I’m not a woman, but no, you’re not.”

—

“I’m adopted, too, actually,” Dicentra said unprompted while Ulysses reshelved books.

Uly abandoned the books and walked around the shelf. “Are you fucking with me?”

“No.”

“How does that work?”

“How would it work differently? You have someone who takes you in, teaches you, cares for you, loves you.”

“I don’t know if that’s my experience with my adopted mother,” Ulysses scoffed. “But fair enough.”

—

Ulysses dragged a stool outside the cage and sat down.

“Why do you keep answering my questions?” she asked.

Dicentra studied them, then stared straight ahead, her face too listless to hold any expression for long. She looked more etiolated by the week. Ulysses had told Aldous about the lifeforce thing; she wanted Dicentra alive to mollify Aldous’s wrath as much as she wanted their talks to continue. But even if he wanted to feed her, could Dicentra do it without the use of her innate magic? Would she even eat, or would she starve herself so she could die? Maybe he and Doolan were figuring out a system; they were powerful enough for it. 

Was it even talking, though, with one of them behind bars? Didn't that make it interrogation?

“I like your voice,” Dicentra said. “You’re funny, sometimes. It's the only entertainment I have.” The corner of her mouth twitched with the phantom of amusement. “I get satisfaction from giving you information Aldous has to struggle for. Unless you’re telling him everything, in which case, fuck you.”

“You seem smart enough to know that was always a risk in telling me anything, so I’ll take the compliment. Do you like books?”

Dicentra’s gaze turned towards the shelves rising about her on all sides, her eyes brimming with longing. “Yes.”

“I can’t share my research, but maybe I could read to you sometime.”

“Why?”

“I would rather be at the Hall of Erudition, but they saddled Aldous with me and me with him. I get bored, too.”

“Is that why you’re asking so many questions?”

Uly mirrored her miniature, vindicated smile. “Maybe a bit, yeah. And to spite him, too.”

[futuroindia]

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[apoetmaybe]

Spring with the buttercups SHOT into the grey blue sky

And make it catch FIRE with

white bradford PEAR BLOSSOMS

And drink merrily over soured rose French champagne, SWEETER than ever the day last years’s ROSES may have lived

As always SPRING COMES

And spring comes now

I PROMISE with my maker’s seal

Spring comes now with vengeance

For every tree that falls victim to locusts and rot and winds that tear through them

Snapping their great wet and white stems

Peeling them open to white potato colored flesh

The way a stick breaks between TWO SEPARATE HANDS

We learn as a CHILD

Split into- unevenly, jagged-like

All winter the hillsides seemed so dismal-lost and conquered

Grey trunks horizontaled on barren dirt patches

Even the yellowed stalks of last season’s reed and bluestem grasses may have seemed washed totally away, gnawed on so closely by the wildlife until there is just ROOT

And the vultures have so many carcasses on the sides of the interstates and the chill is so

That the dead lay for months and the fat vultures DON’T PICK at them

It’s something ominous

Yes, the winters do, they did THIS YEAR

Drain all the sap until the syrup taps of the maples have left massacres of death, trails of death and withered many away

The maple veins ravaged by seething, hungry vampires

Over empty galvanized silver metal buckets hung on nails

It is true

Death and destruction are everywhere

And the seething many, do get ever see their day of fullness?

Those seething ones

With ringlet blonde childlike curls with many curtsies and much ignorance over the death of the few and over nakedness of the land they steal mercilessly from

But SPRING COME VIOLENT now

She will

She always does

For the force of Spring

Is ALIVE in THE water and EARTH

Spring is GOD’s power

Cold April shower SOAKed up into muddy Earth, what could GROW from this sop and muck?

Like LIGHTNING bolts through the unliving no Blood spilled can conquer his faithful ever-creating and renewing hand

And for all that is taken by death

God shoots up from his SEED

With vengeance

Spring will come

The watered Earth now

A hillside in what seems the first taste of WARM sunlight

She BATHEs

And your eyes will CRY over her becoming

And some HEARTs will melt ice

And some LOVErs will overFLOW from within in fullness still, some in memory, some for respect

Then overTAKE again in greenery, jungles of greenery

The topiary full of colored birds will SING

And the melody will put to REST you who are hungry and base

And you will BOW to God too

As he pours the powers of life and DEATH over you blind

And you will be hungrier then

And the faithful and weak

Those barren that sat in the middle with lanterns and little pit fires on the roster bench,

like spoiled fat boys spitting boiled peanuts getting ready for bat

made from one sapling that fell among many

And those barren will not starve

And they go without the syrups of maple this year and that year, how MANY COME THE YEARS

The hillsides will not be starved out

They never did, never were

OverTAKEN.

Tell me the maples will run rivers for spite of their mothers and fathers passed

And you will KNOW

Your fullness was poisoned all along

By the HANDs OF GOD’s will

The quick POP of the bat in hand

The sport announcer drops jaw amazed

It’s out of here!

And THERE WILL BE jungles of greenery

The maple will BLOOM and samara whirly-birds spread wing

AND OVERCOME the sky

Yes

SPRING.

will come

With vengeance

Bundles of delicate petals,

shoot up you amarillo buttercups

And do not fear to fade

come

With vengeance.

[azertyrobaz]

Dank Farrik Drabble #27

A second @dankfarrikdrabbles! Already? Why yes, this is the way I chose to cope until that final episode. It’s helping? Kinda?

The prompt is Gift/Resolute and it was partly inspired by this art by the lovely @fanfoolishness. Enjoy!

************

Dust was finally settling on Tatooine following the battle, and Din was contemplating asking Fennec if there was somewhere he could lie down in the palace to get some rest – funny how you got used to luxuries such as sleeping horizontally – when a small ship cleared the atmosphere above him. Someone joining the fight late he wondered?

He made out the X-Wing shape easily, and tried not to let his excitement overwhelm him. Could it be Skywalker? And Grogu? Surely if it was the New Republic there would be at least two of them, as they never travelled alone.

Din recognized the blue astromech first, telling him his first assumption had been correct. He told the others he’d take care of it, already anticipating that the Jedi might not be there with good news. Would he tell him off for visiting Grogu? But it didn’t make sense for him to come all this way and leave his new school just for that.

The ship landed, the transparisteel canopy lifted, Din held his breath…

Nothing.

Then the droid rose up from his port and landed next to the starfighter, emitting a series of beeps Din was too stunned to interpret just yet.

And then a familiar coo.

Din stood very still, his heart pounding, as green ears peeked out of the cockpit. Then a tiny green shape appeared. Din covered the distance separating him from the ship on leaden legs, not believing his eyes, and the child jumped into his arms with a delighted squeal once he was close enough. This was the highest jump he’d ever seen him do, but he didn’t question it as the boy reached for his neck with his little claws to give him the fiercest hug he could manage.

“Grogu!” he exclaimed, unable to form any other words as he hugged the child back just as tight. The small shape was vibrating with excitement and babbling incoherently. It was the best sound in the whole world.

“What are you doing here? Where’s Skywalker?” Din finally managed to say after a while, refusing to put the boy down. He was expecting the Jedi to exit the X-Wing and wondered why he hadn’t shown himself yet, but it was the astromech who finally came clean.

“You did what?” he uttered, astonished, looking straight into the eyes of his foundling. His huge ears lowered dramatically, and he started babbling at rapid speed again. Thankfully, Din understood Binary a little better.

“You stole his ship while he was sleeping? You came all the way here without telling him?”

The droid was beeping merrily, clearly proud of himself for that trick, and Din wondered who had goaded who there.

“That was very careless, Grogu! Anything could have happened!” he admonished, and the little boy frowned in annoyance, one claw reaching inside his clothes to show him what he was wearing underneath. Most of Din’s irritation evaporated when he realized the beskar chainmail was now protecting him. He was bursting with pride and tried to find the words to tell the child that yes, he was glad to see him and that he had gotten his gift, but surely he shouldn’t have resorted to such tactics to let him know. Before he could do that though, Grogu held out a hand towards the cockpit, and out came a cylindrical object he caught easily.

“A lightsaber too! Good thing it’s your size!” he marveled, trying not to show the kid how worried that discovery was actually making him – he was much too small to be allowed to use such a damaging and unforgiving weapon.

Din sighed as energy finally seemed to drain from the boy and he laid his head against his shoulder with a contented, tired coo.

“Anything else you stole before coming here?” he wondered with a slight chuckle.

The droid quickly corrected him that they hadn’t stolen anything – they’d merrily borrowed the ship and he, R2-D2, smartest astromech in the galaxy, was capable of flying it on his own, thank you very much – but there were mentions of frogs that told Din he’d better feed the little one soon.

“Well, let’s see what the palace has to offer, then we’ll figure out how to reach out to Skywalker,” Din concluded, walking towards the building, Grogu burrowing against him.

The Jedi could wait for a bit.

[infernal-general]

@count-v-dracula mixture of smol headcanons, plots ideas, random things; disorganized because I'm living in a constant panic attack. Anyway- did we just create an accidental enemies to lovers/friends to lovers arc? Feel free to reblog and/or add your own thoughts💖😄

⚔ I've darkened her character a little instead of 'just' night terrors: more PTSD, actual signs of semi serious split personality disorder, her remaining struggle against the Hellfire since she did not sign up for this shit

🔥 Rozy doing her own version of 'raging on the ceiling' at the mention of Van Helsing, because she considers herself the better Hunter, superior in combat and loathes how her achievements have been swept under the rug, how the crimes against her have been erased & him basically 'taking her place'-

⚔ I absolutely adore the idea that after more spending together Vlad can see the ghostly outlines of her harpoon horns, Rozy is the same with his hellbeast wings

🔥 Just them walking together, looking like they stepped out of a fashion magazine. Giving bisexuals heart attacks left and right XD

⚔ Rozy, disheveled and furious but not at him for once, breaking into his current place, declaring “Fight, fuck or dance?”

🔥 Vlad telling Rozy's origins, because she isn't aware the 70% of it, including that one of her ancestors became a queen AND he knew her throughout her life.

⚔ Queen Rozy, now Raia deciding to drop by. Because death definitely didn't grant her peace. Currently as Heaven's soldier. The change from the always straightforward, honest Countess-Captain-Queen to history's most dangerous double/triple crosser is indeed quite shocking. Not mentioning the uncanny amount of how much she took after Vlad's worst traits. Swords and fire start flying between the two distant sisters when Raia chuckles “Hell and Heaven are waging a little war yearly, and from now on I'm in charge of it. General Véghváry has a nice ring to it, don't you think?”

🔥 A little reminder that the Hungarian Viper will always be a part of her, despite now she walks her own path. Sometimes shielding the so called monsters from Hunters, sometimes killing the ones seeking revenge for their distant family members presumably killed by her, often toying with the Hunters sent after her. She will always be a master assassin & she is still capable of blessing weapons, although not that strong.

⚔ Hellfire acting out of control, her shadow, her mirror image doesn't lining up with her movements or looks & I'm curious about his reaction to her struggle to remain human instead of succumbing to her curse

🔥 That being said....them doing the horizontal tango while they are both transformed👀

⚔ Rozy once asking Vlad to call her Bellum. The first hint of what will she end up

🔥 A small moment of planning, she tried to protect, to balance humanity by jumping headfirst into every war since the 1848-49 one, but she sees all her efforts have been wasted. So she considers a full on cleanse fire; give me unhinged Rozy.

⚔ Follow up thought: someone, either an argument seriously gone out of hand with Vlad, or a horde of Hunters coming for both of them, or Raia fucking with them again but for the first time unleashing her full potential. Raising a hellfire infused army from scattered remains along with opening a vortex of a portal to Hell.

🔥 ...Comfort after it? Because that stunt would leave her drained and frail for weeks

⚔ Vlad trying to come up with a hair care routine for her after her endless complaining about how dry it is. And moments after his hard work is finished with actual results, something happens & her hair is ablaze, ruining everything :,). Rozy absolutely adoring his hair, it is so s o f t. Her fingers are almost always carefully woven into it when they are having a rare calm moment.

🔥 After the Apocalypse has ended, Raia became Queen of the new realm emerged after the brutal destruction, Rozy in charge of the defense and they still can't help their sly digs at each other. Enter Karma while Vlad is witnessing the current chaos from the sidelines and pat his shoulder in sympathy. “Yeah trust me I know. Rozy is my cousin.” The third Véghváry who also ended up as a Horseman of the Apocalypse (she is Death). This bloodline is fucking cursed.

⚔ The Queen's true personality revealed itself when she was fencing. Rozália's is when she's dancing. Dance with her. Either a wild tango full of passion, a showoff cha cha cha or mambo in the most flashy outfit possible for an actual dance competition, or a soft waltz under the stars.

🔥 Rozy and Vlad ending up owning a house together. Because either she seeks him out or he does and none of them are masters in the art of knocking. So this solution would make it easier. Yeah. Toootally that's why. It has two bedrooms in case of arguments so he doesn't sleep on the couch instead. A room full of light where Rozy can practice both dance and combat in peace. A large room for them to dance. She shouldn't be let near the kitchen. A basement for...secrets and victims. Neighbors frequently complaining about the noise they make because of the music, arguments or 🔞 matters- An old lady is convinced that the charming man is a large hellish bat when calling the police.

⚔ Just their usual banter💕😌 + opening up little by little 🥺?

🔥 Them trying to learn/adapt to modern technology. She is ridiculously terrible at it.

⚔ Just wait till I find an irl faceclaim for Rozy.

[apexqueenie]

The Blood King (Bakugou x Reader, Medieval AU) Ch 3

Synopsis: In fairytales, princesses like you got to marry handsome princes like your best friend Shoto, but you’re not living a fairytale. You find the harsh realities a punch to the face as you and Sho run away outside palace grounds and into the real world. But the harsh brings out the beautiful, and in your case, it took the form of the scarlet covered barbarian king, whose territory you disturbed.

A/N: AAAAAAAHHHHH, I'm so sorry this took so long! It may have a few mistakes cuz I added on to this after I finished homework sooooooooooo I'm usually half asleep by then. This one is sorta long, so yah, enjoy!

Warnings: Swearing, blood, violence

[Ch1]->[Ch2]->[Ch3]->[Ch4]->[Ch5]->[Ch6]

“SHO!!!” You scream, snapping your torso up from the bed you lay on.

Wait...A bed..?

Your brain just tripped over itself as the memories came flooding back to you. The forest, the attackers, the beast, and then...that man.

You clutched your forehead in pain. Where the hell were you?

You place a hand on the furry and weighted blanket that covers you. It was nice. Quite a bit warmer than the blankets you had at home-

You shook your head. If this is how distracted you get now, you must’ve hit it at some point. You look around the room you were in. It was nice and dimly lit due to closed curtains, but plain. All that filled the space were you, the bed, and a small wooden dresser to your left with a tall cup of water on top.

Water. Sweet, sweet water. You chugged it down, throat parched from the previous events. The cool refreshing liquid woke up some of your senses. Slowly, your grogginess was replaced with the soreness of your muscles. You started to regret sitting up so suddenly. The side you were kicked on started to throb more and more.

You look down at the side in pain, seeing that your blazer and dress were replaced with a simple white wrap skirt secured with a knot around your chest. You felt almost naked, cold too. Never have your arms, chest, and legs been as exposed as they are now. Even your long nightdress had sleeves.

But that wasn’t important. You were in this strange place, Sho is nowhere to be found, and your things are gone. You needed to know more. Now, you may have been overreacting a bit, but what’s the harm in coming prepared? You break the glass you drank from earlier, grabbing the biggest piece and tearing some of the fabric you were wearing to wrap around the shard for a handle. You didn’t know what to expect, but at least you had something to defend yourself with.

You held it in the front as you slowly pushed the creaky door open. You thought you were ready for anything, but you weren’t expecting to be atop a balcony overseeing a complex combination of treehouses, bridges, and grounded buildings all surrounded by stone walls, complete with archers in loose armor patrolling the top. It wasn’t like any of the armor your guards wore though. It consisted of metal, like the knights in your father’s army, but they also wore feathers, leather straps, and colorful face paint. If you had to guess, you were nowhere near your own kingdom. They kept watch of the forest while the rest of the citizens of this odd town bustle happily below. Adults traded and conversed with one another while the children played with balls or kites below. All of them wear similar outfits to yours, comfortable and with a closer connection to nature. Some women wore clay beads around their heads like crowns paired with bright, multi-layered dresses made of choppy fabric. Most men wore loose shirts, some went bare chested, all wore slightly baggy pants, usually with multiple belts. A stark contrast to the puffy floor length dresses and tight pants of your people.

So where exactly were you?

“Do you like the view?” a voice said behind you.

It made you jump, and instinctively, you turn to hold out the makeshift knife you temporarily forgot about. The man you pointed the sharp edge at yelped and held both hands up as he rounded the corner.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have sneaked up on ya.” he smiles sheepishly.

He was a red-headed man with spiky hair, a short vest, bandana, and baggy pants. Similar to the people below. From what you could see, no weapons. Still, you keep the blade pointed at his exposed torso. You’ve never killed anyone before, and the thought scares you, the overwhelming fear of being here in strange clothes scared you even more.

You take a step back, trying to distance yourself from the newcomer. “Who are you?”.

“Eijiro Kirishima, right hand man of King Bakugou. I’m glad to see you awake and well.” he says, not moving from his spot. “We’ve met before, your highness.”

“Huh?” You say, dumbfounded. You’ve never seen this man in your life. You would’ve known if you did, his face is...very memorable.

He pointed to the decently sized scar on his face. It traveled from his right corner of his lip and up to the bridge of his nose. It wasn’t bright red, but it still looked like it had only recently healed. A cut like that would’ve taken at least a week for it to stop being inflamed; you wondered how he’d gotten it or why he was pointing to it.

You shook your head, not understanding.

Kirishima chuckles nervously, “Well uh, it might be hard to explain, but uh first things first, I came here to check on you. How’s that rib feeling?”

“My rib? It...hurts a lot” you admit, lowering the glass shard. ‘Hurt’ was an understatement though, it felt like it was on fire. Your side throbbing painfully with each breath you took. Adrenaline could only mask it for so long.

He nods and slowly approaches you again, hands out where you could see them. “Let’s get you back in bed” he says, gently scooping the glass out of your hand and placing it in his back pocket.

Hesitantly, you complied, weary of the shard being in his possession. At least, he seemed like he didn’t want to kill you. You leaned back into bed, muscles screaming from the short encounter. It’s only now you truly realize the extent of your injuries. You hissed as Kirishima readjusted your pillow as best he could, shaking the bed a bit.

“Now that you’re awake, I’ll let Deku take a look at you. He’s our medicine man, or doctor if you like.” And with that, he walks out, closing the door behind him.

But you couldn’t stay still. Even though your ribs hurt, you couldn’t sit back and wait. If you’re being nursed here, Shoto must be nearby. And besides, they don’t want to hurt you, right? After all, as you hauled yourself up and headed to the door once more, you found it still unlocked. You weren’t their prisoner.

You took a peek around the corner that you saw Kirishima come around last time. It led to a free hanging wooden bridge to another tree. The other side of your cabin led to some steps that took a wide curve around a wooden pillar of some sort, but taking a look upwards only showed you that it wasn’t a pillar at all: It was an absolute unit of a tree. Incredibly thick, and at least 500 feet tall, the tree had stairs carved from all over its sides and bridges split off to smaller trees holding up houses. An even more intricate pattern of pathways sat above your head than what you saw the first time when you looked on the balcony.

You clutched the railings, making your way up the stairs and onto the first platform branching off into other paths. Your “room” was just a simple block, fitted halfway into the trunk of the big tree. Woven branches and leaves make a simple flat roof; not much different from any other building here. Guess you’re just gonna have to find someone who knows this place. Preferably not Kirishima. You had a feeling he’d just bring you back to your room.

You hauled yourself up more stairs, opting to take the paths closer to the tree. Traversing mazes was never your strong suit, and this place could get you lost in a few seconds.

The further you went along the stairs, the harder it was for you to breathe. Your injury was draining your energy fast, making your body feel like a thousand pounds. Maybe going back to bed wasn’t a bad idea at all.

Just as you were about to give up and sit down, you came across a wider bridge, one that was definitely a lot more extravagantly built than the last. Thicker, and with decorative railings. It was built between the tree itself and a large mountaintop so tall, you couldn’t see the top. The bridge extended in a T shape, the horizontal bit from the tree built to the length of one wall of the kingdom to another with stairs down to where the guards patrolled. At the smaller section of the T sat a huge double doorway, carved from the wood of the tree you’ve been climbing around for the past 10 minutes. It depicted battles, warriors wielding swords and fighting alongside winged beasts of enormous size...Dragons. Then it clicked. Kinda. You swung at that large beast before, at its snout right when it was right behind you. And Kirishima had a scar along his mouth and nose...

Kirishima = Dragon?

You shook your head, unable to fully convince yourself. It must be your pain fogging your mind a bit. You guess it was the same reason you were walking through those double doors. Big doors were the norm for you, being a princess after all. In your state of confusion, it’s better to go with more familiarity. You pulled it open with a bit of difficulty and slipped in as the doors slowly closed behind you without a sound. Just as you suspected, it was a grand hall for royalty that was almost as big as your father’s. The room was curved, thanks to the tree’s natural design. Flowered vines decorated the plain walls. An empty throne of wood and bones sat in front of what you thought must be the opening to the other side of the tree. You could see the sunshine bathe the throne in its gentle light.

You straightened your composure subconsciously, as you’ve been taught to in throne rooms like these, and walked to the throne. Bones and wood, delicately intertwined with one another to form a beautiful crest along the top of the backrest and pair of armrests. You dragged your fingers along the sanded wood gingerly, admiring the craftsmanship. Swords were stabbed in between, like trophies. Some chipped, others completely broken in half. All went through obvious signs of battle. Losing battles, that is. This was a throne for a King that should be feared. Unlike your father and birth giver’s thrones, which symbolized elegance and formality, this one was fierce, powerful, and dangerous. For some reason, your mind was reminded of the man with the Vermillion eyes. How he strode proudly with bold movements, the same way you’ve seen your father or King Enji act when confronted. Was he the one who owned this throne?

A few feet behind it were steps leading up to a large balcony, open to give an extraordinary view of the kingdom you saw before. You walked up the steps slowly, entranced by the calm sight of the sky and trees. A warm breeze lifted the stray hairs from your face, and you felt calm, your injuries temporarily forgotten. You thought you saw everything from the height you were at when you first woke up, well, you were a couple hundred feet higher now and so much more had been revealed. You could see the exact boundary of walls that protected the civilians, previously hidden by other trees. A huge, open gate on the other side of the kingdom guarded by tiny soldiers both on ground and up on the wall. The complex bridges you saw earlier seemed to build around this area so as to not obstruct the view. You dared not to go straight to the railings though, it felt out of place for you to be watching over someone else’s civilians. So just at the top of the stairs you stayed.

Along the sides of the extended walls where the stairs were built, hung swords of all shapes and sizes, snugly staggered amongst each other like decorations. Each one told a story, from the blade type down to the hilt decorations. You wonder who wielded each magnificent weapon. The man you fought had a sword worn down from no doubt years of battle, more so than any of these blades on the wall.

“I wonder where he is.” you spoke out loud.

“Where who is?” a gruff voice responded.

You froze in place.

Speak of the devil. There he was. He appeared around the left side of the throne, nonchalantly leaning an elbow above his head on it. He wore the same attire as before, cutlass hanging at his side- only this time, tribal beads and threaded teeth hung around his neck. The sunlight coming from the open spaces behind you revealed his hair to be golden, as well as uncovered the many battle scars that previously blended with his skin underneath the pale moonlight. He made your shrink a bit in his presence.

He cocked his head to one side, lifting an eyebrow at your staring. “Well?”

Snapping out of your thoughts, you forced yourself to say something. “Sorry, You, you’re..and then...Uh…” you managed to spit out, ears burning. You couldn’t look at him straight. He only narrowed his eyebrows in response. ‘Great job (y/n), he thinks you’re a moron now.’ you scold yourself.

“Maybe that shitty Deku got it wrong, and you’re the one with the concussion.” he scoffed.

“I have no such thing!” you blurted out. You tried to look him in the eyes again, but the dominance they radiated made you feel like a pup caught disobeying her master. But why? You’re royalty, a future Queen! You shouldn’t let the likes of him intimidate you like this!

So you stood up straight again, taking a deep breath and raising your chin to address the man in front of you properly. Your insides felt like they were being stabbed with a flaming rod, but you refused to succumb to it now. “I lost myself a bit there. I’ve come here for answers.” you say, clasping both hands together. “Where is the leader of this Kingdom?”

Unfazed by your new composure, he stared right back. “You’re lookin at him.”

“And your name?”

“Why does that matter?”

“It matters because I’d like to know to whom I’m speaking with.” you grit your teeth.

“Oh, and what gives you the right, little thief?” he says, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m not a thief,” you growl, “I’m princess (y/n) of the Northern Kingdom, first and rightful heir to the throne. As a fellow royal, I deserve the right to know who you are.”

At your words, his body went rigid. “You deserve it, huh?” He moved from his spot at the throne, up the stairs towards you and towering over your figure. You shuffled backwards in alarm. “You, a Northern pansy with your tea parties, lazing around in your kingdom, not giving a damn about the ecosystem around you. You call that royalty?” He spat, raising his voice. You could feel the heat radiating from his body, physical heat, fueled by his anger. “Destroying more of my home to make room for your stupid roads. Killing my people’s food for sport and leaving the skinless carcass to rot so you could have your stupid exotic rugs- I’ve seen how much you people take for granted. If it weren’t for the size of your army, I would’ve conquered you assholes by now. Why did I even listen to that damn Kirishima, I should’ve left you and your boyfriend in the forest. At least you’d be useful for once-”

“Wait, I think you’re overreacting here, and he’s not-” you tried to reason, stumbling over your feet. You completely lost your composure now, your heart practically beating out of its chest.

“Or your brother, I don’t give a damn who he is, my people are running out of food because of yours- but I don’t think you ever knew, huh? Probably worried over some bullshit like what you’re gonna wear, or if some other pretty boy prince out there thought you were cute.” He continued. You back found the edge of the railing and you latched your hands onto it. Taking a quick glance backwards, you found the height a little terrifying now.

“Well, I’m over here hunting day and night to find meals and what do I get? Two more mouths to feed. Useless, pathetic weights on my back. If you wanna talk about being my fellow royal-”

“Bakugou, stop!” you hear Kirishima’s voice echo.

Kirishima. Oh thank god Kirishima is here.

The newly identified “Bakugou” snaps his head to the side at the voice. You look around Bakugou’s figure to see the redhead entering through the doorway, a stranger with green hair trailing behind him.

“You need to eat, Kachaan.” the stranger says. “We’re not starving, Denki found a whole new area with more game- but you can’t hunt it if you’re the one hungry.”

“Stop telling me what to do, I’ll eat when the provisions are restocked.” he turned to the side to face the pair and glared.

Kirishima in the meantime had already ran across the hall, climbing the stairs up to you two. “It’s been three days, brother, you’re getting aggressive.”

Bakugou took another glance at your shocked figure, and for a moment, you could see a pang of guilt hit him. But it was fleeting. His face returned to and scowl and he scoffed, fully turning around and heading down the steps past his comrade. “Aggression is what’s kept this kingdom prosperous.”

“Well, yelling at her highness isn’t very prosperous.” he shot back, tracking the blonde with his eyes.

The stranger made his way next to you, placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder. Kirishima acknowledged him and rushed off towards the doors with his leader.

“Well they’re always talking about equality for some goddamn reason, why can’t I yell at them like men?” Bakugou threw his hands up in the air.

“That’s not what they’re talking about…” the other man responded.

Their voices grew distant as they left the hall, leaving you and the kind stranger. With Bakugou gone, you released the breath you didn’t realize you were holding and fell to your knees, groaning.

So, that was Bakugou. You didn’t wanna think about what could’ve happened if Kirishima hadn’t stopped him.

“Woah, hey, uh, we should get you back to your room.” he says, cradling your shoulders. “I’m Izuku Midoriya by the way, but you can call me Deku.”

“(Y/n)” you strained. “Nice to... nice to meet you Deku, but I can’t go back yet. I have to make sure Sho is ok…”

Deku brought you back up to your feet, sliding an arm around your waist and a head under your arm. “Sho? Is that your friend?”

“yeah,” you nodded as the two of you began heading to the door yourselves, “my childhood friend. We were...we got lost...”

“Lost? We could send a messenger out to your kingdom and let them know you’re here-” He says.

“No!” You yelled. Deku looked taken aback and gave you a concerned look. A little embarrassed, you cleared your throat. “No. It’s ok, I uh, I’d prefer we don’t make a huge deal about this.”

Deku chuckled, “Oh, of course my lady, but, are you sure you’re ok to go visit him?”

“Please, I was the one who caught him in all of this mess.”

He smiled as he pushed one of the doors open with his foot, and headed down the steps almost as far as where your own room was, only before the last flight of stairs he took a bridge across to another tree where a small cluster of buildings sat. He gently slid out from besides you to open the front door. Sho laid flat on the bed in front, quietly sleeping. He looked much better now. The lump on his face had almost disappeared, wrapped heavily in clean bandages. He was shirtless as well, only more bandages covering his chest and parts of his arm. He had bruises everywhere, but otherwise, he looked taken care of. In addition to the bedside dresser, there was a small wooden table to his right with tools, bandages, and washcloths. He must’ve needed stitches. You teared up at the sight, feeling guilty again for all the trouble you caused.

Deku gently placed a hand on your shoulder again, leading you to a couch on the side of the room. “He’s got a concussion as well as deep cuts here and there, but he’ll make a full recovery in about three weeks. I’m going to have him stay in bed for a week and a half and then go from there.”

“It’s all my fault,” you whispered, voice cracking. At this point, you couldn’t hold back the tears anymore.

“What? No, it’s those people in the forest. Wild people. They like to mess with anyone caught out at night. Except for kach- erm, The King. They’re terrified of him.”

You sniffed, “Bakugou, right?”

“Y-yeah,” he rubbed the back of his neck, “we grew up together, so I’m used to calling him Kacchan. It was just a name and uh, oh, and, I’m sorry for the way he acted, he’s been out scouting food for a while, not eating at all. He thinks the forest is slowly going dry. He’s a good person, I promise, he just has a mean face. He must’ve scared you.”

“It’s ok,” you shook your head. “He was...he was right. About my people.” You wiped the tears from your eyes, staring at the wall in front of you. “My father, he likes money and power. He likes seeing happy and rich citizens. I used to think it was because he cared about them when really, it’s so he could show off to other kingdoms. I could hear them sometimes, talking about expanding towards the forest, cutting down more trees for a new library or something. He liked the pelts too, making me little stuffed rabbits when I was younger. I always thought it was ok though, I never knew people lived here. Now I feel awful.”

Deku gave you a kind smile. “Hey, but it wasn’t you, right? That was your dad. Don’t beat yourself up over his decisions.”

“Yeah” you sighed, “I guess.”

Deku’s smile grew bigger, and he pushed himself off the couch. You watched him walk over to the dresser and opened up one of the drawers to pull out a small blanket.

“Here” he said, unfolding the blanket and handing it to you. “I’m gonna go grab the medicinal tea I brought to your room, it’ll help with the pain. Uh, I’m not quite sure, but I think you may have slightly fractured a rib, so the best thing we could do is let it heal itself for a week. Who knows, it might just be bruised.”

“Thanks.” you say, laying yourself down on the couch in the meantime. After Deku came back with that tea, you passed out fast.

You had a dream. Your father was right in front of you, raising his sword above his head. He was scared of something, but you couldn’t tell what. The background was fuzzy, but you could see it was destroyed. You were raising your arms, protecting someone. Everything was in slow motion, fading slowly to white.

You spasmed awake, inhaling sharply. The image faded fast out of your mind. Shoto was snoring lightly on the bed, arm lazily resting atop his stomach. Good. Sighing, you set aside the blanket and walked out the door for some fresh air. The tea helped you a lot, even now. You didn’t even feel any pain. The moon shone brightly again as the breeze cooled your skin, giving you deja vu of the whole fiasco from before. Except this time, this was peaceful. You weren’t lost. No one was chasing you. And most importantly, you and Shoto were safe. Everything was good for now.

A large shadow fluttered in the corner of your eye, causing you to jump a bit. A red dragon with magnificent wings landed in the clearing by the kingdom gates, which were now closed shut. Its rider, the buttholeish King, yelled at the guards. They notched their arrows, shooting into the forest with expertise. A roar of some sort of animal retreated, rustling trees in its wake. Bakugou slid down from its neck to untie the fresh animal carcasses secured on the dragon’s back. Other soldiers came from the buildings to help carry them. Then, as Bakugou hopped to the ground, the dragon began to shrink back into itself. Wings folded into his backside, neck shortening, and body losing its color to turn into...Kirishima. It blew your mind. So you really did hit him hard back there. You had to apologize.

You rushed down the steps to find them, not really thinking about the fact that you had absolutely no idea where you were going. Nor did you really think about your stamina. Five sets of stairs and you were already panting.

As you leaned against the tree, trying to be careful with your breaths. It still didn’t hurt, but damn did you get tired quick. Just as you were turning to tackle another flight, a head of blonde hair appeared from below, scowling.

“Again? What is it with you and not sitting still?” he grumbled. You could hear the fatigue in the way his voice cracked.

You sat up from the tree, surprised that he climbed so fast. “I, er, wanted to apologize to Kirishima for the wound is all.” you rubbed your arm nervously as he stopped in front of you.

He eyes you with skepticism, probably wondering if you were telling the truth or not. “He’s gonna be taking care of the fresh meat for a while, and probably sleep till late afternoon knowing the lazy idiot.” he grumbles.

“Oh.” you say, still kind of embarrassed.

“And besides, he’s fine. He heals like it’s nothing.”

“Because he’s a dragon…?”

“Heh, something like that.”

“Oh.”

You two sit in silence for a moment after that. The awkwardness was almost unbearable.

“This reminds me, Shitty Hair wanted me to do something. Can you walk up the stairs?” he finally asks.

You shrug, “I’ll get up there eventually.” you respond.

“Well, I don’t have time to wait for ‘eventually’” he says, and lifts you up off the ground with both arms. He hugs you close to his bare chest and climbs the stairs with no problem, not even a slight change in breathing.

You help a bit, holding on to his neck for support. “Where-“

“I have to give you your shit back.” He grunts. “You lived so I don’t get to keep your sword.”

“What an awful mouth you have for a king.” You frown.

He smirks in response, “you haven’t seen the half of it, princess.”

Princess. The way he says “princess” sends shivers down your spine. You don’t know why, but you found yourself staring at his features again. Hair shining almost white again, gently waving in the wind. Piercing eyes, sharp jawline, defined collarbones…

“Oi, quit starin.” He interrupts your thoughts.

“Huh? Why...uh, why would I stare at you?” you say, your voice an octave higher.

He chuckles lightly while you try to look everywhere but him. He passes Shoto’s room and instead keeps heading upwards. Past the throne room too, taking a staircase to a room above it. He pushes it open to a gorgeous bedroom. The amount of oil lamps lining the walls could barely light up the entirety of the room. Giant bed with plush pillows along one wall, a balcony on the other side of the room, a door leading to what you think is a bathroom, and lots and lots of “trophies” hanging up on the wall. Helmets, swords, capes, horns, claws- must be from what he killed. One horn spread the length across the wall from his bed, being almost 10 feet long. You’d be terrified to know what creature that belonged to...or, had belonged to. Still, they were oddly beautiful. Clearly, they were a struggle to take down, judging by the damaged sword Bakugou wielded and the slight deformities in the trophies themselves. A crack down the middle of a knight’s helmet. Multiple tears in a blue and white feathered cape. It was almost surreal to you, that a man that could win all these vicious battles can gently place you on the soft cushions of one of the few couches that occupied his room.

Walking to his bed, he picked up an object propped up against the bed frame. He trunks to you, holding it flat against both hands. Your sword!

He unsheathed it, examining the blade in the dim lamplights with approval. “This is made of Awherian metal, better not lose it.” he says, sheathing it and handing it back to you. You take it gingerly, propping it by your feet.

“Awherian?” You repeated.

“Awherians used to be a tribe up in the North before going extinct a long time ago. Legends say they used to battle giants, cuz they ate their dragons...or some bullshit my old hag likes to talk about.” he crosses his arms.

He took notice of you lowering your head, and sighed, rubbing his neck awkwardly.

“I uh,” he cleared his throat, “I shouldn’t have said all that. Earlier, I mean. Kirishima was right about being hungry, I don’t usually yell at women. Unless they’re trying to kill me, you know.”

“It’s ok,” you lean back into the couch, “you weren’t wrong. I said this to Deku earlier already: I thought my father was doing the right thing because he, well, he’s my father. If I had known there was a whole civilization here...I just...I hope I can help.”

He looked at you for a few seconds, calculating. Were you genuinely being honest? Maybe, he thought. He has his doubts still.

Bakugou was always weary about newcomers, and didn’t take too kindly to them. The only reason these two were brought in was because Kirishima urged him to. The king refused at first, reasoning that this could’ve been a set-up, that the cult that pranced the outskirts of their territory had a plan to send in spies this way. Of course, Kirishima says that there’s no way they would possibly injure their own like this, leaving them one step away from death, but Bakugou has seen their ways. They would eat each other if they wanted to. Eventually, he gave in on the reasoning that they weren’t the smartest of people. You seemed different. He ordered his closest men, including that shitty Deku to keep an eye on you both.

“Maybe you could. Who fuckin knows” He says, “but not when you can’t even climb fucking stairs without wheezing like a granny.” He says, earning a slightly offended whine from you. He smiles lightly, then points to his bed with a thumb. “Go.”

You look at him, perplexed. “In your bed?”

“No shit, it’s the middle of the night.” He narrows his eyes.

“I’m, b-but we’re not married-“ you stuttered.

Bakugou rolls his eyes, “relax princess, you have it to yourself. I just don’t feel like taking you back down to your room, or to that half n half bastard.”

With a grunt, he picks you up off the couch and onto the bed. The plush blankets swallowing you almost immediately.

“Do you like insulting people?” you ask as he throws the blanket over you.

“I dunno, do you like breathing, or is it just something you do?”

“You’re impossible.” You rolled your eyes. “Where are you going to sleep?”

“The couch.” He replies, undoing the buckles on his cape. “Sleep, we’ll have you properly taken care of tomorrow, starting with a bath.” He wrinkled his nose.

“Hey!” you pouted. A bath sounds wonderful though.

“You were supposed to be in bed all day today, but whatever.” he sighs. He folded his cape neatly and placed it on his bedside dresser, then flopped onto a couch on the far side of the room, facing away from you. Eventually, his muscles relaxed and you could hear soft puffs of breaths as he slept.

It was calming in a way. Every night, even as a small child afraid of the dark spaces in your room, you slept alone. You had to overcome that fear alone, your mother definitely didn’t want you bothering her, and your father was far too tired from dealing with the kingdom all day. But knowing someone else was in the room felt, in an odd way, nice. You drifted off again, but this time, without dreams.

Tag List: @pasteldaze @decayz @akihoeeeeeeeee @blinkingsuns @stan-josie @skylan666 @hypothesaurus

Let me know if you’d like to be in the tag list!❤️

[gilded-gheists]

Badlands/Adjacent + Karl tattoo headcanons

I really love designing tattoos for the smp members and I've had Bad's for so long in my mind. Thus: Tattoo HC's list!! I want to do more like Las Nevadas, L'manberg ogs, Dream Team, ect. so yeah! I'm dogwater at drawing designs but y'know, I love to describe them so, enjoy some tattoo hc's!

General

-everyone but Philza and Slimecicle have three heart tattoos across somewhere on their body. Wherever that be on their wrist, chest or leg, it's somewhere.

-glowsquid ink can be used to make tattoos glow!

Karl

-His heart tattoos are on his stomach horizontally. When in and a few days after spending time in The Inbetween and The Other Side, they flash between the colours of his old skin, though not like neon lights or some shit. It's not noticeable unless you look at it.

-Karl is the type of guy to have a bunch of cool tattoo ideas but he can't do them because he's absolutely terrified of needles. however!

-He has the two dots on his hand because of course he does.

-He was stupid and asked Bad to give him his swirly symbol on each of his fingertips with different colours to help him remember things after his first few time travel trips. He chickened out after the third one so there's only one on his thumb and middle on the left and thumb on the right.

Bad

When the egg takes him, the colours also drain to match them.

-His heart tattoos are on the back of his non-dominant hand horizontally and are coloured blue, one of them is blacked out though where it would usually show skin due to the pact.

-Bad has a set of three pairs of black wings across his back, going down in size with each pair until it lays across the trampstamp area, tips of the last set just creeping around to his hips. All are spread and have roses of orange, red and blue hues curling around them and across his chest and upper arms. The wings are hard to see against he black-grey skin sometimes but they are visible in good light. The wings are natural and embedded into his skin whilst the roses were added by a friend.

-A Diamond sits on his throat to represent the lives pact with skeppy, blue spirals coming around and off of it in a beautiful, curling pattern.

-To make Sapnap less self-conscious of his lava scars as a kid, he decorated his veins on his dominant hand with glowsquid ink tattoos of oranges and yellows, which made the child so much happier because he thought his dad had the same scars as him.

-He also has a badlands flag across his ankle, with a pawprint, redstone, cake slice and a rose to make it like a bracelet around it.

Sam

-Sam's lives are vertical across his throat in the classic red hearts colours, leaves from his creeper side however often grow over it and hide them which he promptly prunes off when he's warden to show people how many lives he's got.

-He has a lemon on his forearm he got with Ponk when he was so sure that Ponk was the one (the same arm ponk has cut off) and has cut a line through it, creating a scar that healed over the lemon. (ponk had a creeper face on the cut off arm)

-I love the idea of Sam having some sort of redstone-related back tattoo but it's more cogchamp-esc? With cogs and wires and mechanisms all rolling up and around each other across his shoulderblades and down the middle like a spine. I lowkey want a way to have animated tattoos so it moves and stuff and Fundy to have one too but I have no lore explanation for this.

-Because of anatomy books he has a tattoo of his lower ribs and where they hold the creeper's explosion gland, the gland it'self being in green glowsquid ink and similar to a heart/ender pearl hybrid in shape. He thinks it's funny as you can usually see that area glow when creepers explode. It is not.

-Also has the same ankle tattoo as bad with the addition of a diamond but in place of redstone there is a small set of devil horns.

Antfrost

-His hearts come vertically from the base of his tail and up his spine. There's frozen-like blue marks that crawl around and over them like cracks that glow in the dark, similar to lava scars from the Nether but for those who were babies in tundra biomes. So Frost Scars!

-I like to think the manhunts are canon as like, little games the original server members played, and Ant got Dream with the potions that one time and took it to heart, getting a potion of harming bottle on his shoulders (the area that faces the sides? I can't describe it but the area that faces outwards left and right)

-Because of Velvet's death, Ant has icing-like drip-lines coming from around his wrist and 'dripping' up his arms so he never forgets his lover no matter how much time goes on.

-has a floof cat on his hip because it was a good place to start when he was getting tattoos. It actually made floof bind to him as a familiar which was a great turnout for a first tattoo!

-The same ankle tattoo as Sam but the pawprint is devil horns instead of the redstone.

Skeppy

-Because his skin is hard, any tattoo needles will crack upon making contact with it. Whilst swords and tools harm him just fine, Skeppy cannot get tattoos unless he makes demonic pacts with demons.

-His three hearts are underneath his undercut, small and at the upper nape of his neck. They are a blood-red and one is blacked out from his pact with Bad.

-A set of those pointy, spiky wings you see anime characters sometimes have is on his lower-back, dark red to mark the lives pact he has with Bad.

-Not a tattoo but he has an ankle bracelet of charms the others have as tattoos :}

Hannah

-Her lives are on proud display across her collarbone, with roses that link to her arm tattoo.

-Hannah saw Bad's roses tattoos and imminently asked if he could do the same on her, the ornate roses wrapping along the arm her skin has roses on in place of them. They link and lock into the ones that she has had over the heart tattoo too.

-Her and Purpled both have pillows tattooed on both of their hips (bedwars bitches :}) as well as the Hypixel H on the back of their necks. (any smp members who frequents hypixel also have this due to a lot of people knowing them there. It's like youtuber rank basically but you acutally go on Hypixel.)

-Hannah also has a really nice sun and clouds trampstamp tattoo.

-The same ankle tattoo as Sam but the rose is devil horns instead of the redstone.

[kaitoujokerscans]

The Night the Silver Cape is Set Ablaze CH7

<7> Joker Breaks In!

Around the same time, another phantom thief — Joker — was hard at work on another caper. This particular caper was...

"Huuuh? A... recipe?" Hachi asked as a stiff breeze blew against his face. Joker, similarly buffeted by the wind, forced a smile as he answered.

"Yep, exactly! Sounds interesting, doesn't it?"

"But that's not important right nooooooooooooow!" Hachi said, screaming. They were falling rapidly. They were in the sky, several thousand meters above the ground. It was cold, and the air was extremely thin. Furthermore, the two of them were freefalling without any open parachutes. It was enough to make him envious of Hosshi, who was staying at home today. "W-What are we s-supposed to do here!?"

"We'll be fine. We've got this." Joker pointed out the thin layer of fabric between the arms and torso on the bodysuits they were wearing. "This is called a wingsuit. It's used to glide through the sky. We can land at our destination without attracting attention this way."

What Joker said reached Hachi's ears over the radio. But it was pitch black all around them, and the only things he could see were the city lights twinkling far below. The sheer terror got the better of him and he could hardly think straight. It was a far cry from how they usually flew with Balloon Gum. All Hachi knew at the moment was that they were headed somewhere Joker had sent an advance notice to.

"What's this recipe supposed to beeeeeee!?" Hachi yelled. Joker answered as he normally would.

"Hachi, you've heard of the soft drink called 'Riviera', yeah?"

"I-I know about it, but...!"

"The recipe for it is one of the world's best-kept secrets, and it's only known to a handful of people!"

"I-Is that so?"

Joker and Spade both love Riviera, the drink of choice enjoyed all over the world. It's served in restaurants everywhere and can be found in any vending machine. It tastes like a mix of sweet syrup and tangy tonic. It's excellent for chugging, and Hachi likes to drink it on occasion himself.

Hachi was quite the cook himself, but true enough, he had no idea what made Riviera taste like that.

"After all, if the recipe got out and suddenly anyone was able to make it, they wouldn't be able to sell their drinks, right? So only the top members of the company that makes Riviera know the ingredients and their ratios."

"T-That makes sense...!"

"Word is that the secret recipe is kept at the company's innermost level, strictly guarded in a safe."

"Joker-san, don't tell me the reason why you're trying to steal the recipe is because you just want to drink a limitless supply of Riviera?"

"Heh heh, it's a secret♪"

"That doesn't tell me anything!"

The duo continued to drop rapidly. Hachi took a glimpse down and saw right below — well, probably still a few hundred meters away — the lights from houses and tail lamps of cars driving on the road. The color drained from his face.

"All right, it's about time for us to start gliding. Spread your wings!"

"Okaaaaaaaay!"

Joker and Hachi unzipped their wings. While they were still falling at the same speed, suddenly they were zooming at an angle. It was like they were slipping down a playground slide. Their untethered bodies skimmed through the air like gliders, and a blast of wind hit Joker and Hachi's faces from the front this time.

"I see it! Over there!"

A large building blurred into sight. It was conspicuously distinct from the other structures around it. The whole building was curvilinear and shaped like a bottle. A bottle of Riviera, in fact. It was already nighttime, so there were no lights streaming out of the windows.

"We're gonna land on the bottlecap!"

Joker made it sound easy, but from where they were, it would've been like placing a speck of dust on the tip of a toothpick. If they weren't attentive and precise about it, they'd fall headlong into the ground instead. Even so, Joker didn't drop speed. Confidently, he plunged straight toward the Riviera bottlecap.

Joker had the courage to dive right into things without hesitation. Hachi admired that. It used to be that Hachi thought about every possible consequence and would often end up not doing anything at all because he was afraid of failing. But Joker typically took action as soon as he came up with a plan. He had once asked Joker about it before.

"Joker-san, how are you so brave?"

"Well, you never know what'll happen until you try, yeah?"

"But isn't that even scarier if you don't know how it'll turn out?"

"It's the other way around. There's only so much in the world that people can imagine. Most of what actually happens is stuff you never would have expected. So don't you think it's better to just do it?"

"You might have a point..."

"Master once told me that 'knowledge can't beat experience'. Which means that right now, I'm no match for Master. But if you flip your thinking, that means that if I get all kinds of experience, one day I'll be able to win against Master. If I'm too scared to try anything, I'll never be able to beat him," Joker said with a smile, and started writing the advance notice for his next target.

When he heard the reason why Joker had so much motivation and the things Silver Heart had taught him, Hachi felt like he understood. It was exactly because Joker didn't know what was going to happen next that he was always able to act immediately.

"Okay, we're almost there, Hachi!"

Joker's yell brought Hachi back to the present. The Riviera bottlecap roof was coming up to meet him. The rooftop seemed to function as a small heliport.

"Drop your speed on the count of one-two-three!"

"Roger!" Hachi acknowledged and gripped the cord on the side of the wing. He had been told that when he pulled it, he would slow down.

"All right, on your mark! One..."

Hachi tightened his grip on the cord and adjusted his timing.

"Two..."

Hachi was ready to pull on "three", but then Joker said:

"...and..."

"WHAT!? 'And'!?" In his surprise, Hachi pulled the cord on instinct. A tailored parachute billowed out and he slowed down dramatically. At that speed, he was going to drop down before he made it over the bottlecap.

"Oh shoot! Hachi!" Joker pulled his cord. Losing speed, he changed orientation so that he was now facing Hachi. He caught him in both arms.

"Joker-san!"

"We'll be fine! We should be able to make it, just barely!"

But Joker was just saying that to calm him down. The duo stalled in the air as they were almost to the bottlecap roof. Just out of reach, they slowly dropped down. Without anything supporting his weight, a chill ran down his spine.

"Agh, and we were so close, too~" Joker commented laxly. "That's the end of that. My Balloon Gum's in a pocket underneath my wingsuit..."

"Whaaaat!? Please, that's not funny!" Hachi exclaimed. He promptly pulled one of his ninja tools, a grappling hook, out of his pocket and tossed it up. The hook caught on the rooftop fence with a clank and the two of them stopped in midair.

"Whoa! Thanks, Hachi!"

The two of them climbed up the rope and finally made it onto the rooftop.

"What was that about!? You said to pull the cord on the count of one-two-three! What was 'one-two-and' supposed to be!? You didn't tell me there would be an 'and'!"

"Ha ha ha, it just looked like the timing wouldn't match up. But we had a pretty exciting experience thanks to that, don't you think?"

"That was an experience I didn't need to have!" Hachi exclaimed, squirming. It was important to do all sorts of things and gain experience. But there were some things that he really didn't need to experience. Hachi was sure of that now.

The duo ran silently over the empty rooftop and crouched down close to the entrance. Since Riviera HQ was home to the secret recipe, security was always strict. It didn't even overlook anyone coming from the sky. Flying in slowly would take too much time and was more likely to trigger the defense system. That was why Joker had opted for this method to get in rather than using Balloon Gum.

"Though it's strange that there aren't any security guards on the roof."

"Yeah, it might be a trap to lure us in. Sounds like fun. I'll take the bait."

Joker unlocked the door, entered, and quietly stepped into a dark stairwell. He took a look at the map on his phone and pulled up the route info. "The recipe is in the safe on the top level. Usually nobody goes on this floor. There are three obstacles standing between us and the safe."

"Three obstacles?"

Joker approached the door to the top floor. "The president of this company is a bit eccentric. The defense system's set up so that the safe won't open unless you solve three puzzles. If you can figure out the answer, then you can move on."

"Puzzles?"

"Yeah. So the obstacles are like a test for anyone who wants to open the safe," Joker said, and opened the door leading into the top floor. A long, dim corridor lay ahead. Joker and Hachi put on goggles that let them see infrared sensors and wriggled their way along. Soon enough, they reached a large door.

"All right, this is the first obstacle." Joker turned his gaze up to where a huge sign with a puzzle written on it was hanging on the door.

 [Question]

8            1            6

1            5            9

8            3            4

"Enter the number equal to the eight."

 There was a numerical keypad underneath the sign. They were probably supposed to input the correct number with it.

"So this is the puzzle..." Hachi looked at the numbers and tilted his head. "I wonder why these numbers are in such a random order? And it says 'equal to the eight', but there are nine numbers in all, so I don't get what it means by 'equal to'."

"You don't? The numbers aren't exactly random, either." Joker looked at the numbers and smiled a little.

"Joker-san, you figured it out already?"

"Of course I did."

 What does "equal to the eight" mean? Let's all think about it with Hachi!

Hint: Try adding the nine numbers up horizontally, vertically, and diagonally!

The correct answer is coming right up!

 "Hmm~ I don't get it at all!" Hachi put up his hands in resignation. He had given up.

"Yeesh, fine. This number arrangement is called a 'magic square'."

"A magic square?"

"Look closer. If you add up the three numbers in a horizontal, vertical, or diagonal line, they all come to the same sum."

"Huh? They do?" Hachi looked up and tried adding up the lines. 6+7+2=15, 8+1+6=15, 6+5+4=15... whichever direction he added them up in, they always came to the same total. "You're right! That's weird!"

"This magic square has 3 horizontals, 3 verticals, and 2 diagonals, which makes for 8 sums in all, right? Since they're all the same number..."

"Oh, I get it! 'Equal to the eight' is asking for the sum of the numbers, which is 15!"

"Right on!" Joker punched "15" into the keypad. The door unlocked with a clang. "Okay, let's go deeper in!"

Once they went through, the door closed behind them, and they came before the next door. There was another puzzle on this one. This was the second obstacle. The following was written on the sign.

 [Question]

Assume:

0 > 2

2 > 5

5 > 0

Given {2, 5, 5}, which one wins?

 Just like before, there was a numerical keypad underneath the sign.

"I don't get this one at all either..."

"It doesn't look like these arrow-like marks are supposed to mean that the left number is bigger. If they did, the first two expressions wouldn't be possible."

"That's true..."

"It asks 'which one wins', so maybe this mark just means that the number on the left is 'stronger'."

"Can a number be 'strong'?"

"Maybe these aren't numbers in the first place. Maybe they represent something else." Realizing something, Joker stroked his chin.

 Which one wins? Let's all think about it with Hachi!

Hint: Try counting on your fingers and see what it looks like.

The correct answer is coming right up!

 Hachi folded his arms, tilted his head, and stared at the question. It looked like he still didn't have a clue, so Joker gave him a friendly suggestion.

"Hachi, if you don't know, try counting on your fingers."

"On my fingers?"

"Yeah. Use your fingers to visualize the numbers. Try doing it with both hands, starting with the first expression."

After being told this, Hachi tried counting with his fingers. For 0, he balled up his fist into a rock-like shape, and for 2, he stuck out two fingers, forming scissors.

Wait. Rock... and scissors...?

"AAAAAAAH!" Hachi exclaimed. "I've got it, Joker-san! These numbers represent rock-paper-scissors!"

"Exactly. Now you know." Joker flashed a scissors sign.

"Yes! The numbers are the number of fingers sticking out. So 0 is rock, 2 is scissors, and 5 is paper."

"That's right. 0 wins against 2 because rock beats scissors. Likewise, when you have 3 against 5 — scissors and paper — scissors wins. And lastly, when you have 5 and 0..."

"5, which is paper, wins!"

"You see? Which brings us to the question written below. When you have 2 and 5 and 5..."

"It's scissors against paper and paper, so scissors wins! Which means 2 is the right answer!"

"Right on!" Joker said and punched "2" into the keypad. The door slowly opened. At the end of the hallway, they saw a massive door.

"Oh, that must be where the safe for the recipe is!"

"Yep. In order to get there, we'll have to clear the final obstacle."

The door leading to the safe was stout and didn't look like it could be broken through easily. This one, like the others, had a sign hanging from it with one last puzzle.

 [Question]

5            2            2            2

0            5            0            5

0            2            2            2

0            5            0            5

Push the button for the number that doesn't lose.

 Unlike the previous ones, there were buttons on the sign itself this time. This meant that one of the above numbers was correct, and when it was pressed, the door would open.

Hachi took a look at the numbers and tilted his head yet again. "Is this... rock-paper-scissors again?"

"Yep. It's only 0 and 2 and 5, just like before, so we can probably assume that's the case..."

"But I don't really understand this arrangement or what 'doesn't lose' means..."

"Hmm, maybe it's like the magic square we first encountered...?" Joker studied the numbers closely and brainstormed.

 Exactly which number is the one that "doesn't lose"?

Think about it in terms of both the "magic square" and "rock-paper-scissors" you saw before! Hint: you don't have to add up the numbers this time. Just think about it horizontally, vertically, and diagonally!

The correct answer is in the next chapter!

While Joker and Hachi were racking their brains over puzzles, Queen, Roko, and Purple were having tea at a late-night cafe. The train had arrived in town without further incident and they had the secret file in hand. Purple had some spare time before she had to turn the file over to an ally, so now she was going to talk about Noir over tea.

The three sat facing each other in the back corner of a small cafe. Purple leisurely began to speak. "Silver and Noir are complete opposites."

"Opposites?" Queen asked, taking a sip of her honey latte.

"You already know that Silver is a man as lively and bright as the sun. Everyone takes a liking to him. His roguish personality just captivates people. He has luck and natural ability. All of this made him an extremely talented spy. On the other hand, while Noir is also talented, he has to put in effort. He gathers all the intel he can before a mission, analyzes it with a cool head, and executes his plans without a single hitch. Noir goes in thoroughly prepared — that's his style. Noir stayed active even after Silver quit being a spy, and some people even call him the 'legendary spy' now..." Purple dunked a cookie in her black coffee and munched it. "But Noir has a grudge against Silver."

"Huh? Why?" Queen asked, confused. If they had gotten along as spies, there was no reason for him to hate the phantom thief Silver Heart.

"Well. Once Silver became a phantom thief, he started to get a lot flashier. He had always been a daredevil with an affinity for showing off. As ostentatious as his capers were, there were more than a few occasions where he failed spectacularly. Noir got tangled up in those spectacles quite often."

"Noir was involved with Grandpa's work?"

"It'd be more accurate to say that Silver always barged in when Noir was on covert infiltration missions and made a mess of everything."

"What...?" Queen and Roko's faces clouded over.

"The success of our spy operations hinges most of all on not being spotted. We infiltrate without alerting the enemy, do our work, and leave without attracting attention. The longer it takes them to notice that they've been breached, the more likely it is that the operation will be a success. In that sense, as soon as there's any uproar, the operation is a failure."

"Sounds like unforgiving work..."

"I can see why a spy wouldn't want their presence to be known, though," nodded Roko understandingly.

"Right. That's why Noir carries out his missions in secret, never letting anyone know he's there. But Silver Heart was completely different."

"Ah..." Queen realized something. "I get it. A phantom thief sneaks in, but not without anyone's knowledge. They send advance notice."

"Precisely. Phantom thieves boldly proclaim that they're breaking in, reveal themselves when everybody's looking, and steal the treasure dramatically while they're all in shock. Isn't that what Silver always says? He was always a showoff, so that suits him," said Purple. She exhaled and gave a shrug. "Besides, Silver tended to go after the treasure of money-grubbing crooks. Noir would receive a directive, plan everything down to the finest detail, and then once he got there, advance notice from Silver came in. What do you think would happen then?"

"The enemy would be on alert, and it'd make espionage that much harder..."

"That's exactly it. Silver was probably using the same network he had used as a spy to locate treasure. Silver threw a wrench in Noir's work on more occasions than he could count."

"That many times...?" Queen was surprised. Now she understood why Noir would be angry. But wouldn't Silver Heart have realized...? When she asked about it, Purple shook her head.

"...Unfortunately, Silver Heart is clueless about the whole thing. That's his greatest fault. Silver had no way of knowing that Noir was at work behind the scenes. Noir couldn't afford to have his mission be compromised, so he couldn't even say he was there. He had to give up, knowing that his mission had failed because of Silver..."

"So that's the story..." Now that she knew Noir's circumstances, Queen sympathized with him a little. Silver Heart's capers were indeed grandiose affairs and would definitely have interfered with any espionage going on. And since the man himself was completely oblivious and stole without a care in the world, she could understand why that behavior would incur wrath.

"I feel sorry for Noir..." Queen murmured. Purple snorted.

"Well, if you ask me, Noir's at fault too. Of course it'd annoy me to have someone get in the way of my job. But a real spy works around it. If a phantom thief appears and you take advantage of the confusion to accomplish your goals, you might be able to have an easier time of it. He could have even set it up to make his deeds look like Silver's handiwork. Noir just didn't exert himself."

"Oh, I see..."

"You've got high standards, Purple-san."

The pair voiced their respect for her.

"Oh, also, Grandpa is going after a treasure called the Lachla Crown. Apparently it's something he and Noir were looking for back when he was a spy..."

"The Lachla Crown? That explains it. You could say it ties Silver and Noir together."

"What do you mean?"

"Silver fell asleep, and because of that, the two of them weren't able to locate the hidden treasure. I remember Noir was really infuriated about it."

"Then when Noir learned that Grandpa was going after the Lachla Crown..."

"He quit being a spy and took matters into his own hands, it seems..."

"Huh? Noir quit his job?"

"Yes, just recently."

"Oh..." Queen pondered this. If Silver Heart targeting the Lachla Crown really had prompted him to quit being a spy...

Making up her mind, Queen stood up. Purple spoke to her.

"You're going? In that case..." Purple handed her a slip of paper. "Noir has been frequenting this place since he quit his job. I already looked into it."

"Thank you, Grandma." Queen took the note with gratitude.

"Don't mention it. Anyway, Queen, you were quite sensible back there. Would you be interested in doing some spy training under me?"

Then Queen answered with a little smile. "Thank you. It's not a bad offer, but I'll never be cold-blooded enough to be a spy."

"Ha ha ha, you really are Silver's disciple. And you're headstrong to boot. Just like me when I was younger."

Roko paled for a moment at this, but Purple gave a wink and smiled.

"Hee hee, thank you. Until next time, Purple-san!" Queen said. Then she and Roko ran off like the wind.

Several hours after their conversation...

Silver Heart was at a chic open-terrace cafe in Paris. The aroma of his espresso lifted his spirits. He took a hand mirror out of his pocket and fixed his appearance.

"Heheh. Hello, good-looking..." He couldn't stop grinning. Silver Heart was about to meet up with Her Majesty, the Queen of the Kingdom of Pandora for a date. She was busy with her official duties, but had a sliver of time available. The two of them had planned to take that opportunity to go on an incognito date. Her Majesty was going to escape the castle using Balloon Gum that Silver Heart had given her.

Just the words "incognito date" made Silver Heart giddy. "Heh heh heh, just like in Roman Holiday." Dropping the title of a vintage film in which a princess snuck out of her palace all alone and got to briefly enjoy the city of Rome, Silver Heart's already mellow expression melted entirely. If Queen saw how he looked now, she would probably slump down in disappointment.

But just then, his melted face hardened back up.

"..." Silver Heart's eyes were drawn to the coaster in front of him. He could see a small "N" written in the corner of the coaster.

This is... It was a familiar sign. It was how spies sent each other secret messages...

Silver Heart's mind flashed back to decades ago. He flipped over the coaster to see familiar letters that he had read often in the past.

 To my sworn enemy, Silver.

To have it out with you once and for all, I have crept out of the world of darkness.

I will steal your treasure.

 P.S. Your girlfriend isn't coming. She should be in the custody of the castle guards by now.

 "..."

Silver put the coaster down and took a breath. So Noir really does hate me... The sudden cancellation of his date with Her Majesty was a shock in and of itself, but not knowing the reason for this grudge left Silver feeling ill at ease.

What's the matter with him...? Silver Heart took another sip of his espresso, just as he heard a screeching voice come from the TV set up outside the cafe.

"This is your host, DJ Peacock! We've just received an advance notice from Phantom Thief Noir!"

"What...!?" Surprised, Silver Heart listened closely.

"I'll read Phantom Thief Noir's notice out loud. —Tonight, I'll steal the 'Lachla Crown' which Phantom Thief Silver Heart has targeted from the passenger ship Urban of the Sea. Phantom Thief Noir. —That's all! This is sure to be a heart-pounding and stimulating develop..."

Not even listening to the report till the end, Silver Heart got up. "..."

As Silver Heart faded into the bustle of Paris, he no longer had the same look in his eyes as when he was waiting for his date. His eyes were quietly ablaze, in a manner befitting the legendary phantom thief.

[quirkwizard]

An idea for a pterosaur-based mutant quirk; the user gains the physical characteristics of a large azhdarchid pterosaur, such as a giant head with a massive beak, and a pair of wings made out of thin muscle layers allowing flight that also double up as a powerful set of legs on the ground for mobility on the horizontal plane. Downsides include being even worse than a normal person at swimming and being ineffective in tight confines.

I'm not sure about this idea, at least in this form. Assuming that you mean the user has an animal Mutation, and not they are literally a dinosaur at all times, that doesn't exactly fit with what we have been shown. We have yet to see any form of animal Mutation that involves dinosaurs. On top of that, it doesn't really lend itself to many drawbacks either. Because being not good at swimming and not being good in tight spaces aren't really that big of an issues for a person to deal with. They are both very situational and avoidable in most cases. This isn't risking dehydration or falling unconscious from the cold. However, I do think that this could easily work as a Transformation type. Because we have seen dragon Quirks, I don't think a Quirk that makes you a dinosaur would be that farfetched. You wouldn't even have to change much about how the Quirk works. The only difference would be that the user would be taking on the full form as opposed to the hybrid form of Mutant types. It would also add some more substantial drawbacks to it as well. If it is a Transformation type, it could drain the user's stamina faster to be in the form.

[jeongahn]

Fallin’ Flower: Dissecting the Imagery By Member

*Note how each scene happens on generally the same platform - the circular epicenter, the rooms, ect. How the portals that enlightened all of them bred from one another and lead them to this epicenter which was once depicting struggle - but now depicts freedom. When you keep this in mind, it’s easy to see how this MV came full circle. Much like the first scene of the MV where the choreo has Jeonghan in the center, and his “blooming” motion sets off this reaction of others like a domino effect. This seems to be the concept.

image credits: @sunnie-dk / @qvyen

- - - - 

Joshua: Healing

Joshua is trapped inside a room, similar to Vernon’s in trauma. Both Vernon and Joshua have ties to America - Joshua living most of his life there, Vernon being constantly referenced as “American” due to his ethnicity. This is vague. But the similarity of the scene was so apparent, and this was the only connection I could draw. There is webbing on this massive hole in the wall that may serve as Joshua’s escape. But due to it’s weak threads, it seems as though it wouldn’t be strong enough to hold Joshua back. Instead, it seems like Joshua himself put the web up in an attempt to keep things out. A way to distance himself between himself, and whatever is behind that wall. This can also be interpreted as his attempt to patch up a wound. He’s still staring at this gaping hole, despite his efforts.

Later on in the MV (which is also the thumbnail) you can clearly see a bundle of flowers held against his face using a bandage. This same idea is shown once again on Vernon’s (?) hand, baring the a similar  bundle of flowers adhered to his “wound” with flowers. There was this concept I recalled where artists would piece together a broken artifact using gold, called Kintsugi. This represented the idea of finding beauty in your broken pieces. That wounds, scars, flaws - are beautiful. It represents your fight, and your healing. He’s surrounded by broken objects that he could hurt himself with if he’s not careful (which are also in Vernon’s scene, but unbroken). Hell he even has thorns on his hands. His scene represents how easy it is to get hurt. How healing doesn’t have to be an ugly process. And how your battle scars are not flaws - they’re made of gold.

The hand covered in thorns may represents how easy it is to hurt someone with your actions, even yourself. It’s a fearful thought. One that may make you want to isolate yourself from others. But later on, we see this sole hand connect to another thorned hand - by the unthorned palms. If you are careful, you may not cause the hurt that you fear. Alternatively: while Joshua healed Vernon (as shown by the flower bundle on his arms), Vernon broke Joshua (as shown by the statues shattered on the floor; a bust is also seen in Vernon’s scene). This could be a representation of miscommunication. The pain after an argument. OR Vernon taught Joshua how to care for himself (bandages) and Joshua taught Vernon about self expression (the statues).

- - - - - -

Minghao: Empathy

Minghao showcased emotion so beautifully in this MV. I could feel this sense of tire, almost to say “I’m so exhausted, and I have to go on. I must go on,”. It’s the type of exasperation that reminds me of when a friend is venting their situation to you. There’s this sense of determination despite a lack of energy. It’s subtle. 

But while he and Hoshi dance in chains, he looks over to Hoshi. And the look felt like he could feel what Hoshi’s frantic fight for freedom meant to him. The expression was almost...like he is determined to save him. Full of understanding, and almost apologetic. He could sense the under current of Hoshi’s emotions: frustration, tire, and desperation. And it pained him to feel this. 

We see Hoshi stare up at Minghao’s extended arms which seem to depict the image of a bird spreading it’s wings (or as another pointed out, a blooming flower)  - Hoshi seems to like he is in awe. It feels as though Minghao is both soothing Hoshi’s intensity, but also motivating him by showing him a clear depiction of what he’s fighting for. With Minghao’s understanding, it seems like Hoshi is able to free himself.

This exhaustive dance between the two could relate to how this struggle of empathy effects Minghao directly. He feels as though he’s fighting against something that wont let him go. The chains that bind both Hoshi and Minghao are pulling them in opposite directions. This type of resistance will wear you out - quickly. In this context, it seems like the burnout could relate to taking on the burden of your friend’s emotions. Suddenly, their chains becomes your own. 

Minghao is exhausting himself to keep Hoshi’s flames both contained and alive. If you’ve ever done this with fire, you know how exhausting it can be. Couple this with fighting to keep his own mentally clear - its no wonder he seems so worn out.

- - - - - -

Hoshi: The Fighter

Hoshi is chained, kicking out and lunging as the anchor of the chain shifts on the floor. He looks desperate. He’s so close to being free. But you can tell he’s worn thin. He’s fighting, and he’s too close to breaking these chains. He can be free, but how long does he have to fight? Does he have enough left inside him to fight? (The answer is yes)

Later on in the MV, we can see Hoshi looking through a hole / portal in the way - which I refer to as “the portal” in later in the post. He broke through not only his chains, but the walls around him. This causes a surge. Couple this with the alternate tempo of the song - the vibe begins to change in several scenes.

The portal appears in Vernon’s scene, then this shifts to Joshua (through the statue* a common item between the two scenes) who stares challengingly at the web that obscures his escape, which then leads into Jun waking from his trance to stare down at the ground beneath him, then to Wonwoo who stands to his feet and scrutinize his bound hands. The portal is seen linking all the members together. Towards the end of the MV - its this same portal that leads them all to the epicenter where they look at the flowers in gratitude.

Hoshi’s will to fight against his chains is represented in the portals. They appear to everyone, and urge them to do the same. His fight reminded everyone of that if they can’t give in, they can be fight to their own freedom.

Off topic - the portal seems to be a mirror. Self reflection? Idealization? It can mean a lot of different things.

- - - - - -

Jeonghan: The Dangers of Comfort

Jeonghan is chained to this bed. At first glance - he looks comfortable. The bed has a fluffy duvet and blanket. He’s wearing a feathered shirt that looks so soft and dreamy. He even appears content in some scenes. Sleeping in this luxurious comfort. 

But as the scenes draw outward - you see how isolated he is. There is nothing but him and this bed that he cannot escape. Nothing but him and his comfort. He can only stare up at this hole in his ceiling, wistfully. There’s this saying, that people don’t change when they are comfortable. Knowing what we do from Jeonghan, not improving scares him. 

He stares tiredly at his chains. He looks as though he’s given up. It’s like he accepts it. There’s no one there to help him, and he feels weak on his own. He can’t do this alone. He’s trapped in his comfort, unable to take the chances that he longs for.

Later on in the scenes, we see Jeonghan unchained - moving around in space. Almost like a bird who has been set free. The feathers begin to make sense. He is a caged bird, he needs help in order to be set free. This relates to Jeonghan’s own idea that on his own, he is “weak”. Which is why the members serve as his form of comfort, together they are “strong”

- - - - - - Mingyu: A Garden of Opportunity

Mingyu is seen sitting horizontally among several flowers, atop a closed doorway. Doorways often times relate to opportunity, “opening new doors”. For Mingyu, he has been given the most opportunity of the group. He’s been an MV, an actor, a model, a variety show guest more often than the others. But juggling so many opportunities at once is hard. He is still Mingyu of Seventeen, while doing all of these things. Being that alone is tiring as is, and although he should and probably is grateful for these opportunities - they may drain him. The door remains shut as he seems to struggle with the idea of taking these opportunities. On one hand,he should be grateful to be considered. On the other he’s exhausted, and maybe even a little guilty on having to take on so much.

Flowers are often offered in congratulations to someone’s achievements. There is a scene later where Mingyu stares up with this...expression. It’s so hard to describe. He looks like he’s about to cry out of happiness. Then flower petals shower onto him like he’s in cleansing rainfall. He is receiving praise for his efforts. And it means so much to him. 

- - - - - - 

Jun: Stagnation / Rejection of Reality

Jun is suspend in air, close to the flowers we see in the final scene of the MV. This represents how close he is to freedom. But Jun is in this peaceful trance like state, dangling in the air with no sign of consciousness. This could relate to the idea of distancing himself from reality. When we distance ourselves from reality, it’s often times a coping mechanism. It may seem like we’re free because we are not at the mercy of the reality. But this doesn’t mean the trauma did not occur. Jun is caught in the middle of reality (the ground) and freedom (the flowers). But he is not moving forward, nor backward. He is not aware of where he is. In a sense, he is trapped between the two and has almost fully disconnected from the either of them. Later on, when Hoshi’s surge passes through the members - we see Jun looking down at the ground (reality). Perhaps he saw Wonwoo rise to his feet, and noticed the state Wonwoo was in. Jun is later seen staring down at Wonwoo, who stares up at Jun. They both have similar expressions that both seem to say, “I’m saved,” “Welcome back, my friend,”.

This can relate to WonHui’s differences. While Wonwoo is tied to the ground by his emotional turmoil that he rarely expresses, Jun rejects his emotions and instead floats high above ground. This might be why they’re in the same scene.

- - - - - - Wonwoo: Pulled In Opposite Directions

Wonwoo is seen kneeling that the same epicenter that many others are seen in. Ropes are attached to either end of the circle’s center - connecting to Wonwoo by either hand. This could represent Wonwoo feeling as though he’s being pulled two different ways - that there is a part of him that is in distinct halves which are failing to connect. This blocks integration, the necessary communication between the two halves.

He’s caught between what he feels, and what he must do. It’s rare that Wonwoo expresses his emotions. He says that he bottles up often. This can tear you up inside. He’s stuck between wanting to scream because he is so frustrated, and needing to maintain composure because it’s his duty. This suffocating feeling is further shown in how condensed Wonwoo’s atmophere is. The clouds are so close to the ground he’s kneeling on, so much so that it becomes apparent when he finally stands. These same clouds that were above his head, are now at his waist. He has lifted himself out of the fog. Wonwoo has mentioned that the members ease this turmoil. But in this scene, Wonwoo is alone (save for a suspected Jun). When Jun appears, we get this feeling that Wonwoo is going to be okay because he is no longer alone with his disjointed halves. He’s reminded that is he is whole.  - - - - - - Woozi: The Artist In a dark room we see a painting with a hole punched through it. Adjacent to this painting is an image of a person with their face blanked out by paint. We then see Woozi, a pristine man with paint covering his hands and arms. It’s clear that he is the artist who is acting out these frustrations against his art. I feel that this goes without saying - Woozi (the artist) creates the songs (the art) and essentially holds Seventeen’s future in his hands. We know from 17Project alone what this pressure does to him. When you’re so busy being something for other people, you lose sight of yourself. Which is why the image of this unknown face is blanked out by paint - why he retaliates against the picture he painted. In this scene, light streams into the dark room. Woozi approaches the light, and peers at it. I’m going to assume this is the portal from Vernon’s scene - which is depicted as a mirror, and Wonwoo’s lights flashing across this mirror into Woozi’s room. Woozi has mentioned how Vernon’s thoughts amuse him, and how he’s always amazed by what Vernon comes up with. Vernon is the change of pace Woozi needs in his routine. 

While in this light, Woozi lifts an arm to inspect the paint coating it. Perhaps he’s reminding himself of why “paints” (makes music) in the first place. He had lost site of his reasoning, in that dark room (stress).

- - - - - - Vernon: Stuck In His Own Head

Vernon’s scene is really interesting to me. He’s literally inside his own head, but at first glance we don’t notice it. He’s in this room with a projector, staring straight ahead at a wall where distorted images are flickering onto the surface. Later on, we see Joshua and Jun appear among the images, along with another image relating to Seungkwan. He’s recollecting memories, or seeing a possible outcome for the future (Jun in awake in these photos; as opposed to being in a trance). From the lens of his own mind. The interesting part is that Vernon isn’t acting nor reacting to anything at all. Even when Hoshi’s portal appears to him in the form of a mirror on the floor, Vernon does not react. This is where things become a bit clearer: we see Vernon in that portal. Not anyone else. No change in his scenery at all. The person that Vernon is on the outside, is who he is on this inside. Vernon paints his world in his own colors. This is why I think Vernon’s portal reflects light onto Woozi - who is struggling with his identity. Vernon has a clear vision of himself, and everyone else around him. It’s like he knew everything would be okay, and that’s just Vernon for you - the optimistic visionary. - - - - - - DK: The Sun

DK appears at the epicenter a band of round objects rotating around him. This seems to depict planets circling a source - namely the sun. For years we’ve known DK to be our sunlight. His shine chases away darkness, and warms our spirits. This is his role in SVT as well. But why is the area around him devoid of light? Why is he looking to these planets in slight exasperation? As if there are too many for him to handle at this time? Because it’s impossible for someone to always be “light”. He is the moodmaker, but his mood may not always be bright. Perhaps he might feel the pressure to be well and lively because of how heavily the atmosphere revolves around him. This can also relate to his role as a vocalist. His voice lifts the song up and almost carries it in the direction it needs to go. He always has to be “on”. And that can be a lot to handle. - - - - - - S. Coups: Solitude This one is simple. I almost overlooked it because it was that simple. S.Coups is in this void of some sort. All we can see are whirling drapes, and his own shadow with him. This can represent what it means to be leader. This self-isolating feeling of putting yourself underneath the responsibility of others. We’re aware of what’s been going with S.Coups mental health. Much like Woozi, you can lose yourself when you’re busy being something to someone. Perhaps it could symbolize being stuck, or being lost. Or even a peaceful, empty space. There are many ways you can think of this scene. But all seem to point in the direction of a much needed halt. - - - - - -

Seungkwan: Connection

At first glance, Seungkwan’s scene didn’t seem to register any thought for me. When I thought about the blues in his scenes, and the flowers he was holding - it reminds me of the blue scene with scattered flowers projecting onto Vernon’s wall. The drapes in his scene reminded me of S.Coups void. And the camera he held directly correlated with Woozi’s scene, which then correlates to Vernon’s imagery of recorded media. Seungkwan is the connecting factor between these three. In general, Seungkwan is the character that connects Seventeen to the world. When people talk about Seventeen, they talk about how much they love Seungkwan. Seungkwan is usually the member that stands out in variety. He’s great at communicating and setting the tone for these types of things. That is his role, and at times, his burden. But he seems light. Content almost. 

It’s because he enjoys this role more than it burdens him. - - - - - - Dino: Undetermined Dino’s scene elicits virtually no thought from me. And maybe that’s the point. Dino is the youngest of the group - the member with so much potential and talent, but the most “green” member as well. In Dino’s scene, he almost seems lost. He’s literally just there, in darkness. Almost confused, but in a way...it’s like he knows something we don’t. He isn’t scared. Nor is he hurting. But he’s also not content. He seems to be searching, if I’m not mistaken? In this interpretation, it’s like Dino is wandering and searching for whatever it is that he’s searching for. What that thing is, only Dino knows. But does he? It seems almost like a coming of age concept. He’s moving forward, with no direction. But full of intent. And I think that reflects a side of Dino that we rarely see - but can totally conceptualize.

- - - - - - - This MV seems to revolve around the idea of vulnerability and how susceptible we are to the world. There are many ways in which our vulnerability is compromised, and how the consequences of this may manifest. We can feel locked in. Or shut out. Or even relish in this safe sphere our minds develop. But we can grow from it. We shouldn’t be afraid of standing up and fighting our way out of our walls. And we also shouldn’t be ashamed of needing help. All in all, the idea is how falling isn’t a bad thing. You have the potential to get back up.