#breadling

There were times when the absurdity of each new world he visited juxtaposed with the stark, endless white walls of the Castle threatened Riku’s sanity.  It was hard, he told the witch—Naminé—to believe this was reality sometimes when his life was full of enough vivid nonsense to be a dream, at least compared to how it was before.  She asked him, once, if this wasn’t what he wanted when he left the Islands.  Hadn’t he known it would be strange and wonderful?

Whaaat? Scary Emote? I have no idea what you’re talking about!!! There are no scary, bad, or sad things in Danganronpa!!!!! :o

Anyway, here’s a little Ouma with a halo of stars… ☆

ilu brynn thank you for the request u3u

He was at the end of the street now, and in the darkness, all Axel could see was his coat.  The lights of the city shone hot and gold and red in their reflections on the asphalt, so when his vision started to mist over, Axel could almost, almost look down and see the sunset.  He could see the horizon and fool himself into thinking the warmth of his hands resting on his crossed arms was from his friend at his side, his best friend.  The one who made him look out at the sun, forever hanging just above the fall, and feel like it was worth never going under, like the light would never fade.

Roxas didn’t much like sleeping, after everything.  Falling unconscious like that, getting tossed through dreams, it all felt too much like the time he’d spent trapped and alone aside from the moments Sora truly needed him, and so there were nights when he would surface from a nightmare still paralyzed with sleep, and it would scare him so deeply that even laying down again was too much.  Especially in the darkness.

The others are so busy chattering about how impressive it is that none of the citizens of Meltokio seem to care that the church has branded them all traitors purely because most people just happen to like Zelos more than the pope that he doesn’t think they notice, but his house is full of dust motes.

There are two paths--the path between the kitchen and the foyer, and the path between the foyer and the master bedroom--that are spotless.  But even Sebastian has a limit to his patience, and cleaning rooms that Zelos hasn’t used in ten years sounds like such a chore that Zelos can’t blame him.

But these idiots (the second group who doesn’t seem to care that he is a traitor, only they don’t know yet) either don’t notice or don’t care.  They step into this place like a whirlwind, and for a second, Zelos can only see the dust hanging in the air, as though trying to freeze this moment of joy and life in time.  Like they can just dust away over a decade of lonely bitterness.

Like they can play-act at this place being a home.

She wanted so badly for her to be happy. For her to find something soft in this life that would surely be one as hard as they came. She thought and spoke often about the life of a ranger. But rarely did she discuss these moments of reprieve. These moments they created as little safe havens - memories to retreat to in their minds at night when the sounds of war still rang in their ears and kept them awake.

Lireesa yearned for Sylvanas to make these memories.