#obtenebricatus

[vvielder-blog]

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Send me ☄ for a text that was supposed to be deleted, but was accidentally sent.

[TXT] media.png [/TXT][TXT] oh i meant to not do that [/TXT][TXT] oh well NOT BAD RIGHT [/TXT][TXT] whado you think:d [/TXT]

[vvielder-blog]

ツ

Send me ツ for an excited text.

[TXT] pretty sure i just figured out how this laptop thing works and i dont know why we never got one before!!! you can see all sortsa stuff [/TXT][TXT] how was i suposed to know who shakira was?? why didnt i kno? [/TXT][TXT] media.gif [/TXT][TXT] I LIKE IT! [/TXT]

[vvielder-blog]

♔ — NOT SO MICKEY MOUSE CLUBHOUSE

'Overwhelming' isn't even the half of it. That said, he's used to this. He's long-accustomed to nights where they just don't stop coming from each and every angle, where nothing but the blade between gloves faced with friction and the remains of shadows makes sense. And it's okay, because he's capable of adapting, sure… but that doesn't take away from the severity of it. Having a fiancé is nothing he should make light of, even if that just increases the chance of him doing so. One of his coping methods is exactly that - mitigating pressure and letting it drip away. Such is the way of the sea and its danger on soft sands. 

But losing the keyblade for a second time around racks him with spiked nostalgia, aching underneath his skin. Because the person he's going to in his time of confusion is the only one ever proven capable of sleuthing it right out from under his nose. This is behind them - naturally - as the composition of his bones are forgiveness and oblivion's favorite pastime. But he doesn't forget the eerie absence that grapples him with a faint fever dream. A nightmare? Either way, it's not the most positive essence, but he can tolerate it. Grin and bear it. All very typical processes. 

He tries once more just outside the doorframe, to summon his weapon and call it forth with all the faith in his body. It doesn't come, and his fist closes too-tightly, shoved in his pocket as a moment for safekeeping. All he knows is this, and the inevitable fear of being bare, weaponless and without magic, has him blinking for a moment at the doormat. What if he's alone in this? 

What if… Riku still has Way to Dawn? And he's left empty-handed with ceaseless upcoming risks in their near future? (It might not be weakness, but it's close enough, and he wishes it away with eyes shut briefly before seven paced knocks, inspiring a familiar musical sequence in the back of his head. By the time it cracks open, his grin is spread from cheek to cheek. Sheepish, perhaps, for the confession he's about to make, but typical enough as to avoid rousing suspicion. 

"Some day, huh?" As if he'd ask if he was intruding, the absentminded boy weaving to the side and into the other's home. "Hey, can I ask you something?"

[2bladez-blog]

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