#fledglingemotions

      It was a fleeting vision. A scene played in his mind and lasted for what felt like only a moment. Despite how swift it felt, Sora saw everything clearly and was left trying to process the vision once it faded. There had been so much darkness, threatening to consume the shape of a boy on the floor. What happened next was what puzzled Sora so much.

      He realized the boy on the ground was Vanitas as soon as he saw his face, but Sora couldn’t help the nagging feeling that he had been the light to save Vanitas. Why though? Sora couldn’t remember ever coming into contact with Vanitas before the fragment. But it was possible this occurred before the fragment nonsense. Was it possible he saw a glimpse into the past? That was the most logical conclusion. If what he saw was a memory, and Sora saved Vanitas, that meant... this whole time Vanitas stayed by him after the separation. It was all because of Sora.

       His chest tightened up, and Sora was moving before he even realized what he was doing. Arms wrapped around Vanitas’s torso from behind, trapping him in a hug. Vanitas was probably going to kick his butt for this, but Sora wanted to let him know he understood finally. Why Vanitas was so insistent on staying, sticking around the vessel despite being freed. Sora leaned his head on his shoulder, pausing before mumbling.

“you think you’re such a big shot, huh? with that cool helmet and that muscle outfit... wait -- wait a second! how much of that is actual muscle and how much is the suit?” hayner’s asking the real questions around here and he’s going to get to the bottom of it!

@fledglingemotions

He already faced disappointment, had his breakdown, shed his tears, threw a fit. Now he was feeling the brisk bite of reality, the lull of depression that follows an explosion. He needed to recenter himself. Remember what it’s all about, why he’s here, why he’s doing anything.

At times, he’d head to the dark realm for this reason, but... he didn’t deserve that mindless bliss. No. He needed to be grounded in the here, grounded in the why. He needed... perhaps... the Keyblade Graveyard? Its barren soil told stories of the past and what to expect of the future. He summons his Keyblade, spinning the clock hands like a dial. He didn’t want to be here, really. He wanted to jump dimensions, get some distance, get some breath. 

He taps the hand on his Blade to stop, ripping open a portal, and leaping through. Correct location, and that’s all that truly mattered. He’s quick to strip out of his cloak, throwing it over his shoulder; cooling material or not, he would no doubt swiftly overheat. He skip-jump-teleports up the cliffside until he finds a flat area with a good view of history. 

PLEASE STOP YOU’RE SCARING ME

i’m totally not reading all of @fledglingemotions and @solitu‘s threads together, whatever gave you that impression :3c 

but y’know

wouldnt it be hilarious