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dimiclaudeblaigan · 10 months

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Oh man I really agree with your tags on that one post. The whole king of delusion thing is terrible to me bc like. Delusions aren’t some gotcha you can use against him? It’s a serious mental health issue? But I’d also like to add I hate when people mock him for smelling bad or having poor hygiene or w/e… :/ It’s not funny when people with mental illness can’t properly take care of their hygiene lol I thought we were all understanding of this?

EXACTLY. It's not like "wow look how wrong you are and how terrible you are for being delusional".

Also the hygiene thing pisses me off too. I know lots of his fans use it as a joke, even affectionately, but like... he was homeless. He was living in the slums. Most people around him probably smelled bad. I'm sure they and he cleaned up whenever they could, but buddy, the slums isn't a public showering area. They'd be lucky if they were able to bathe. It's not something they take for granted. Even the "smelly cape" jokes bother me.

I've met homeless people. I've lived in a shelter where I met people who prior to that shelter lived in tents. Showering and bathing isn't something they could just get up and do before being in the shelter. Those people are lucky if they can even go to the bathroom in a proper bathroom, let alone being able to bathe.

Then like you said, on top of that, he's mentally ill. He's not thinking about his next bath. He's talking to people who are dead, believing they are answering him back and responding to their answers to him. There's also the general idea that Lambert's last words were not actually what were told to us via Dimitri's flashback, but the words he remembers because of his illness. He is very likely remembering wrong, because that version of Lambert matches the version of him that Dimtiri talks to, but does not match the version of him in Rodrigue's flashback.

Even depression can cause a lack of proper hygiene, and that's also a mental illness. In his case he has full on episodes of either psychotic breaks or having conversations with people who aren't there, and when he's out of those states he's desperately trying to do what he's been told to do by those voices. He's trying to do it both for those people and because, as he expresses later into AM, he wants them to stop. Those voices harass him day in and out and ridicule him and it hurts him, so he becomes desperate to do what they tell him so they stop tormenting him (which is part why he's so hellbent on hurrying to finish his tasks in the first half of AM).

It's an absolute spiral of a situation, where he already has these delusions but now on top of them feels absolutely terrible and like someone who has been emotionally abused by loved ones for years and years. He loves them but is terrified of them because they always say awful things to him or try to say things about him that aren't true. The worst part is that these are delusions of people who loved him and were nothing like this, so it causes even more suffering for him.

I don't really understand why it's so funny to people to poke fun at characters with or for bad hygiene. Like, firstly it's... just not a funny thing/topic? And secondly I'm sure there are people uncomfortable with it because they have bad hygiene or lower than "socially acceptable" hygiene due to mental illness and feel they're being laughed at as well for their hygiene. That's definitely a stereotypical mindset and something society does to make fun of people less fortunate than them, be it physically, mentally or both (like not having access to bathing.

Rich people can bathe whenever they want and often in media look down on "stinky people" who are always the poor, generally living in the slums). It's a very unfortunate dominant mindset and almost always comes from people who are more well off and haven't experienced it for themselves to realize how awful it can be (and there are of course people who don't need to experience something to know how bad it is, and I wish there were just more people like that).

I just don't understand what's so funny about hygiene. If anything it just feels like people laughing at the concept of someone not being up to society's standards about health, and it's what literal kids do to make fun of each other. Like, if someone smells bad, I feel like we should be more concerned about the person and why that is... and that would be the case if society raised its people to think that way, but since society raised people to be the opposite (to make fun of smelly people), most people who haven't experienced it for themselves make fun of it.

Like... idk am I missing something lol, I just don't see the humor in someone smelling bad. Even without considering any implications behind it I still don't see the humor in it. Considering Dimitri's circumstances though it just feels very wrong to see people make fun of him for that. I know fans of his that do it are doing it harmlessly and most likely wouldn't make fun of real people for similar things, but it just doesn't sit right with me. There's just nothing amusing about poor hygiene.

Using it as fuel to hate on him though is just is a show of someone's true character and who they really are. :/ Anyone who makes fun of him for his hygiene and mental illness are the kind of people who look down on people with those problems and deserve to experience it for themselves to see just how awful that shit can be. It being fictional doesn't change the fact that it's a show on someone's true character to be able to make fun of someone suffering, and especially to the extent Dimitri does.

Like yes, Edelgard suffered, but she has her own way of moving past it. She's not suffering in the same way as Dimitri or handling it the same way and comes across as "strong" for that - another societal mindset from people who think it's "strong" to not show that you're suffering or have suffered. It's how she handles it, sure, and that's fine... but it's people's reactions to how differently they handle their trauma that's so obnoxious.

People can only be pushed so far, and people hate on Dimtiri for his violence despite that being part of his illness and trauma. Hating on people for being violent as a result of their feelings or past is an awful thing and I really think anyone who can hate on a good and well meaning/intentioned person (real or fictional) simply because they're violent toward bad things needs some serious introspection (like Dimitri having violent reactions to seeing innocents being slaughtered in front of him at Remire. It was an impulsive reaction that he would've hid if he could have, but he wasn't able to).

Like oh no, how dare someone be violent and aggressive toward murderers! How dare someone say off with their head when they've done terrible things! Not everyone is perfectly peaceful and puritan. Hell, Edelgard isn't either and chooses violence as her first and foremost answer to everything, and only considers "negotiations" (i.e. anything that will benefit her/the Empire and only her) if she's losing and only stands to gain from them.

Her first solution to everything is violence, and yet Dimitri is the one who gets shat on for... being violent. Because of his trauma and illness specifically, both in game and out. But since Edelgard has been able to moved past her trauma for the most part and has a different way of handling it that "looks better", he looks "bad" for not having gotten past his trauma yet. Good for her to be able to handle it the way she does, but why is it "bad for him" that he can't handle it "better"?

#DCB Ask #skybluelion #using mental illness as a gotcha against someone isn't cool and doesn't make you cool #it makes you a terrible person and very disgusting. using it as an excuse and fuel to #shit on someone is disgusting. BLAMING people for what they say/do for their mental illness is disgusting #the whole ''it's your fault you're like this'' mentality is the most disgusting gross horrific thing #it doesn't matter what the illness is. it's not someone's fault that they have it #you can dislike Dimitri as a character without using very real real life examples as fuel #bc that shit just expresses exactly how you feel abt real ppl with those problems #it's just admitting it via a fictional setting to avoid the backlash you'd get if you said that shit to real people #I know most Edelgard stans use that shit as fuel just to hate on him bc they just don't like him opposing her #and so use any reach they can get to hate on him but to pick those factors specifically is very telling #ESPECIALLY coming from the character who plans to make a Fodlan where only strong-by-her-definition ppl #will actually thrive and the rest will just rot bc ''it's their own fault they're weak''#same exact energy as ''it's their fault the mentally ill live like they do''#like damn man you know many mentally ill ppl would LOVE to be mentally NOT ill and live and thrive and do great things???#I can't speak for every Dimitri fan but as someone with mental illnesses and heavy fatigue and no real talented physical capabilities #a character like him is an example of and an inspiration for mentally ill ppl being able to actually be seen as normal #and to exist happily and to be able to get by in life and have chances like anyone else #I remember when the game came out how so many ppl applauded AM as a positive spin for the mentally ill #but that quieted down when the game wasn't new anymore and all that was left was the vocal discourse #unfortunately that resulted in us witnessing all the worst people showing their true colors

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bluest-planet · 8 months

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Unfathomable Rage, snippet.

Even if Yoruhua's Heart is no longer made entirely of Darkness, their body still is. And sometimes it feels like they just swapped one steel cage for another made of bone.

Vanitas just wants his keyblade back.

Part of this series of a loosely connected OC and Vanitas' roadtrip snippets. Non chronological. And loose continuity.

Yoruhua honestly has no idea what he was doing anymore.

He is old, and he is tired.

He didn't want to do this again; there's was so much left yet to to do, he felt overwhelmed as to which path to follow next, along with worrying over taking care of both himself and Vanitas from any harm in their weaken states. Be it Light or Darkness.

He has no thought out rescue plan, no supplies, no protection in Quiet Regalia, no idea where he's going in such a vastly unrecognizable realm, one that's moved on without him after all these years.

He's just going, anywhere that'll take him. He has nothing to guide him, except his broken piece of heart. Even then, the mountain of work left ahead of him made him so exhaustively frustrated.

Yet again he was forced to restart his life from nothing. To figure out how to climb that infinite mountain.

First it was being born; created by his mourning sisters' misplaced hope in seeing their brother again- left to assimilate in the night, in the Dark. When he hadn't been what they were expecting.

Then, it was being forgotten in a rushed retreat- abandoned to a hostile foreign Realm. Completely detached from the collective he was apart of, like drifting like broken, dying coral.

At least then he had her to keep him company and teach him about her realm. She who allowed him to graft himself onto, anchored to her shadow.

After that, he returned to an immature collective, regained his crown, his power, his title, and his hour of night. But he didn't want any of it anymore, he couldn't, so he gave it up to be one with her forever; promising to share the same heart and shadow, mind and matter.

I am thou, and thou art I.

He thought that was the end of it, he finally had everything he ever wanted. Even if they weren't accepted in either grace of Night and Day. Now he existed in a state fuller than he's ever felt before, heart unbound by natural law, free to traverse between dawn and dusk. He had nothing left and wanted nothing more. Free to make their own choices.

Until... Well, nothing ever seems to last long enough.

Again it was all taken away again. Grossly ripped apart and without mercy. Unwillingly annullling his promise, left to watch the life he didn't even get to finish building, pass by him through a narrow, unfinished window. Leaving permeant angry claw marks on the sil and cracks in the stained glass.

And now? After all that time? He's free, he was alive, he was here, and he made it. But that wasn't very true was it? He's still waiting for her near the end of the finish line, as he promised. He refused to cross the line without her word. Not when he still has to gather all his pieces up again and again.

Over, and over.

It was grounding those pieces down, into nothing but dust.

And you can't fix dust, can you?

Nor can you get it back when it's been blown away. Lost in the wind.

Ash to dust, left to rust, all time fades away...

...

I'm going insane.

It would be so easy to fall back into that ever present anger that still simmered just under his cold skin. Boiling him alive. It was making him sicker by the minute.

For so long, his anger kept him tethered to this existance, using negativity to recreate his own well gravity where there was none; furious at his imprisonment, he used it to crush his foes and bind other hearts to his own, in an last attempt to drag the one he so desperately wanted back,

Her.

Orichalchemi.

His Heart's Promise.

A shuddered breath escapes him as he walks through the small village. It's barely audible under the humid and heavy, down pouring rain. He briefly looks over his short companion for a distraction. There, Vanitas walks beside him quietly for once.

Was he enjoying it? The heavy, oppressive rain practically flooding the streets, creating small waterfalls falling from old clay rooftops tiles into gushing streams atop gris weathered cobblestone. A loud swirling sound coming from the round drain grate in the middle of the street. And though they were largely protected walking besides the storefronts and under their awnings, the wild wind still manages to land a few droplets on them.

Yoruhua tries to enjoy it; having been stuck in a Keyblade for so long deprived of any sensation- this should feel... Euphoric, shouldn't it? Their anger should be washed away with the rain; they had no use for it, now that they were free- it should've instead burned out to give way for fiery determination only.

But...

Another deep breath escapes them, stealing petrichor rich air immediately after, hoping to extinguish the stubborn fury still burning in their lungs like fire in a coal mine. And they swallow saliva to banish the tight bitterness clogging their throat, the toxic fumes that escaped from the hell underneath.

Yoruhua is unable to stop the way their brows furrow into an unwanted hateful scowl on their face.

Immediately, they feel Vanitas' questioning stare. Always quick to pick up on their mood, likely able to smell the intensifying burnt copal wafting from them, even under all this rain. Regardless of the smell, he's annoyingly perceptive like that; able to read people in an instant, always anticipating for hostility.

They used to be the same; but now, they've lost that too, just like they did everything else upon being freed. Walking, talking, breathing, reading, sleeping. And so much more. All of it digested by gluttonous fury that deemed it unimportant to preserve.

They stifle a deep sigh. Guess they'll just have to relearn that too, they've done so many times before.

Except this time Orichalchemi isn't right there by their side to learn along with them, their mind circles back, entirely intrusive. They shift the tracks on that dreary train of thought to something more positive; on her never wavering support and fun mischief. Gone, but not forgotten.

They longed so deeply to hear another of her dumb jokes and puns, get sidetracked listening to whatever rant about some odd plants she found, or just goofing off while the furnaces smelted iron in the privacy of her forge.

He feels the ghost of Orichalchemi's metal touch on her cheeks. It would be warm, heated up by a day's work blacksmithing, comforting on Yoruhua's cool icy skin. Always trying to keep them warm even if she herself couldn't feel the temperature. Smudgy ash would get on his skin, but he wouldn't mind, not when she'd always wipe it off with that well worn, patchy handkerchief of hers.

What Yoruhua would do just to be able to dance with her one more time, or collaborate on creating a new keyblade, or gardening in peaceful silence.

He wanted her and Vanitas to meet. To show Vanitas that not all hope was lost; there were some Lights that accepted and respected them for what they are. That there was a chance at a normal life for them, he didn't have to walk only at the edges of sunrise; the day was theirs for the taking too.

They just knew she would share the same admiration and love for the Dark in him as she did for them.

But their rose tinted memories and dreams do next to nothing to soothe their pain. It only fans the flames.

If... If she didn't find her, then neither her nor Vanitas would be able to truly stop running. She'd never be able to claim the day for herself again. Yoruhua doesn't think she can do this all on her own, so it's not an option. She must find her.

And instead, she's here. Wasting time.

This time, there's no mistaking it, another frustrated sigh seethes past their increasingly blackening teeth. Their icy breath misting miasma into humid, hot air.

Ironic that their emotions burned them inside out within a frosted shell.

They can barely breath. Charcoal black copal suffocating their lungs.

Another step, keep walking, the rain is never ending. His footsteps next to yours; my footsteps next to his.

They're his, they'll always be his, I can recognize his gait anywhere. I would know, I've watched him since birth. You're irreplaceable, you're me, so I'll never forget what you sound like; but when he walks next to me like that, it's like he's stepping in the footsteps you left behind.

Did you make this desired path for us to take? To make this journey ever so easier for me, just as I tried to support him? I hope it leads back to you. I miss you, I miss you, I miss you, where are you? Why am I here at the end of the line, without you? Did you take a branching path I somehow missed? Please wait for me to catch up!

...Will you always be out of reach?

...

Light flashes over the village, a blinding white in less than a second. Lightning. A very old fear plucks at her heartstrings, stopping her in her tracks.

"What's got you so spooked?" Vanitas jeers.

Yoruhua's fingers twitch, and they resist the urge to clench right into a fist. Or to let their claws unsheathe. Ruining their white leather gloves.

Instead, they bring their hands close to their chest and crack their knuckles against their palms. A satisfying string of boney pops and cracks echo between them. Then they twist their atrophied wrists, it's louder, and sounds painful. But it isn't. It snaps instead like pulled rubber.

The space between their joints feel looser, less tight, lest upset.

For now.

Vanitas seems mildly put off by their actions and lack of reply, but puts on a mean smirk, "well, whatever, I'd thought you'd never shut up."

That gets a response.

Yoruhua's miscolored eyes snap to look him directly in the eye. His own red pupils scorned by hers; yellow stained sclera, with birthed red on the right, and adopted blue on the left.

She doesn't say anything, just stares at him as if she's looking right through him. It's... Terrifying. It's not at all what he wanted or expected trying to get another rise out of her.

She shouldn't look at me that, his mind tells him, so vacant but so full of fragile, ancient agony, just waiting to spill out. He feels like he's staring down death.

Maybe he is.

How many lives has Yoruhua taken, as Void Gear? And before that, as a creature of pure Darkness?

In an era where keyblades hadn't been created yet; the first, baby Lights unable to defend themselves against hoards of Darkness.

Her one blue eye has always upset him- how illfitting and horribly familiar it was. It was filled with Light; it made his skin crawl when she looked at him. As if she could find him anywhere and always would. He always expected her to see him for what he really was eventually, like all the other Lights. Just another disgusted, hateful, or scared holy blue added to a growing chest full of ultramarine.

But it never came.

He looks at Vanitas, and his blue eye never averts. Only staring at him with unbridled attention and... Care.

It wasn't pity; just care and attention. It tracks him because it didn't want him out of its loyal sight; Yoruhua was afraid of loosing him. She watches him because it brought her comfort, because she was protecting him.

Not because he needed it, but because she did. Not willing to loose her one connection to the real world in eons.

And then he realized; it wasn't just like the Lights. There was only one other blue eye, recognizable sapphire instead of lapis just as ancient as hers, that he felt- not a fondness, but trust, reliability- when it looked at him. Void Gear.

The realization made him sick to his stomach. He hadn't lost it, his keyblade, he hadn't lost her. His one true companion, and constant since he was brought into this world.

Maybe it wasn't Wayward Wind, and maybe he hated her at first for not being his original keyblade, the one born of his heart and made for his palm. He blamed her, as if she was a symbol of all his failures and proof that he wasn't worthy of reclaiming his old identity. The only keyblade fit for a monster like himself, equally rejected by the Light.

She never belonged to him, but was lent to him. She, a dying keyblade without a wielder, and he a doomed wielder without a keyblade.

A pact made out of survival rather than trust or worthiness.

Haunting sapphire forever forced to silently serve possessed ruby turned tyrant topaz.

Regardless of his vitriol and violence, how he abused the blade in day and night. Refusing to properly maintain the blade as a punishment for the both of them. Waiting for the blade to finally give up on him and break during battle; she stubbornly stuck by him.

Till the bitter end.

And still does now.

She's watching him, like she would when he'd sleep, or when he'd be caught in a fight. Never sparing a look at his opponent, only him. Wondering if he'd make it out unscathed.

But this look, this old, detached rage.

He didn't want to be right this time; all blue eyes would come to hate him eventually.

They always do.

Both of them don't say anything. Vanitas doesn't have the guts, and Yoruhua knew that once she did- she wouldn't be able to stop the floodgates.

Then...

in the distance-

-THUNDER!

"Shit!" Vanitas jumps, turning to see another flash of jagged lightning striking a far off mountain and away from their staring contest.

He doesn't realize his mistakes until it's too late.

The sudden movement, the fact that he looks human, his uniform particularly triggering, the loud thunder and blinding lightning-!

Yoruhua finally snaps, unable to reign in the destructive wildfire festering in their body.

They char within hungry rage, eager to swallow them back in and sink it's teeth into his battered body. Like slipping into an old shoe, he fits in its between its protective fangs perfectly.

Bones snap to relieve the building pressure inside, allowing Darkness to reshape itself into something bigger and meaner.

Vanitas gets the wind knocked outta him, thrown into flooded streets.

"Ahugh-!?"

He twitches on the ground, unable to think straight while so lightheaded. Water soaks into his expose hair and face, the rain has no mercy; filling up his nose and ears.

The shadow cast over his body is what tells him Yoruhua stands above him; hanging oppressively tall and dead silent.

Their sharp golden feet barely make a sound, the ripples following their long strides disrupting the flow of floodwater in front of his face. It gives him a second's reprieve to surface his face to for desperate gulps of humid air.

Uncomfortable cooling droplets fall down from his black hair to his face. He tries to wipe it away to see better, but it's a pointless endeavour while vulnerable in the middle of the storm.

His lungs tremble inside; wracked with exhaustion and heavy pain. A deep bruise settling over his chest where he was struck by pure muscle.

Heaving, he brings a hand to cover his face, about to yell at her for hitting him in the first place, when he finally looks up.

Endless black hollowness.

He stifles a swear. Looking directly at her was a mistake.

As a pure Dark being, Yoruhua has no face and her body was the epitome of her entire existence; Instead it's a hollowed out heart with curled heart shaped horns ending into a sharp point. Long claw like hair tiredly falling down their back. Ending with an upsidedown crown choking their neck. But, with no mouth or nose to breath, her cries have nowhere to go.

The same atrophied, spindly hands- now thin claws- wrap around under their shoulders. A warped mimicry of a hug, or strangulation. Kept in place by white leather belts and golden chains, preventing them from reaching out. Unable to defend a larger heart shaped hollow on their chest, much like an other Darkside. The rain passes through them as if she isn't real; nothing to be concerned about with little impact on the world around them.

Small bat like wings peak from his hips, sharp enough to cut anything trying to get close, but are rendered useless by the long, heavy dragging tail behind them. It almost looks painful to carry, in contrast with the much thinner and weak looking body. It's awkward, really. The sharp halberd point adding unnecessary violence.

The silhouette reminding him of mixture of various monsters made of Darkness, the Heartless, Nightmares, Unversed and the emptiness of a Nobody. But no where did he see a unique mark.

Fitting, considering Vanitas had no idea what Yoruhua really was; she refused to fit into any one definition since he met her.

< When.... When does this end...? >

Vanitas cringes, the sound of Yoruhua's... Voice, grates in his mind. Like it was trying to scrape its meaning into his soft brain with a jagged rock.

But he recovers fast enough, this time, he knew what to expect and could adjust.

His own voice comes out haggard, "you're gonna... 'ave t'be more clear.... 'bout that..."

He couldn't fight back like this, so against his gut instincts he didn't move. Glaring at her gold crown instead.

Wind blows through her hollow face, whipping past to sound like clamoring howl.

< When does it end? > Yoruhua asks.

Vanitas shakes his head annoyed, "I... I don't k-know what you mean!"

One of their hair claws crack like a wip, dredging him up by the neck to force him to look at them.

< WHEN DOES IT ALL END?! >

Vanitas bites down a yell, the loudness pounding against his skull. Angry now, himself, he tries to fight back.

He repeatedly claws at the hair around his throat, even his his fingers just keep slipping through, he doesn't stop trying to break free.

This isn't how he wanted this to play out; he wanted to see the extent of their Darkness, but not with it turned against him like this.

At first he just wanted their power for himself; wanted them to revert back into a sapphire eye caged in black steel for him to wield again. But now he wanted nothing to do with it. Not whole they were possessed by lapis, it looked wrong on them, like they were at its mercy rather than the other way around.

They'd promised to share their shadow with him, but this? This was just their stygian rage.

"I DON'T KNOW! MAYBE IT NEVER WILL!" he spits in their face. Braving the emptiness. He needed to dredge that sapphire out of them instead of endless black.

He manages to wrap a hand around their hair, clutching it tight together hoping it hurt, "it'll never end at this rate, so get yourself together! You don't get to complain to me, of all fucking people, for it to end!"

He pulls on the hair, tugging her head forward by just a bit. He hears and sees nothing; no breathing, no eyes.

Regardless, "I was finished. I was fucking done, Yoruhua! You were the one to bring me back, to drag me with you on this stupid quest, and keep us safe- It's your fault we're both still here!"

He screams in her face, "so don't you dare give up, and finish was you started!"

The monster in front of him recoils, its horns point towards him and graze his cheek as it withers in anguish.

< All of this, was a mistake. >

He barely flinches when blood spills from the cut but her words gut his stomach more painful more than any wound, a horrible sadness and indignation settling.

He used to be jealous of them; of the fact they never seemed to hate themselves as much as he did himself.

He hated being wrong, he hated being wrong so much more than he liked being being right.

He was a mistake. He never should've come back,

And neither, apparently, should've Yoruhua.

No... he thinks, after everything he's done? It can't have been for nothing.

Just like Vanitas; even where everything but the end goal was pointless, it was that one goal that gave him enough to keep going. His was the X-Blade and the peace that came with it, and he failed, so death was his consolation prize.

If Yoruhua refused to give that back to him, they owed it to repay him with something far greater.

Her own quest, to save her Light. To become whole.

Well, maybe he wanted to see the product of that.

And maybe... Maybe that would sustain him, to live through vicariously.

Yoruhua was more like him than he wanted to admit; chasing after the right to exist without pain. And she might just be able to do what he could not. She's done it before, so there was no way he'd believe she'd just stop trying when they've already done the hardest part of doing the impossible. That was just illogical.

Bitterly, he seethes, "Aren't you the one who said... Coming back was yours greatest moment? I thought you reveled in your existance."

< ... >

Vanitas scoffs a humorless laugh, the rain easily drowns it out, but Yoruhua is close enough to hear the mocking sound.

Their grip on Vanitas tightens around his throat, ready to squeeze the life out of him.

This death, could never live up to the first. He was a dying wielder, and they a doomed keyblade.

Well, even in this greatest betrayal, he refused to give her the last laugh.

"So much for your pride, Void Gear." He hissed. Never breaking contact with the shadow of his former sister, even as spots started to fill his vision and his body seized in her traitorous strangle.

What I am is Darkness, so to it I'll always return.

...

......

.........

Faintly, he can hear rain. It's a soft pitter patter against glass; nothing like the aggressive deluge of before.

The air is cool; not humid like before. Brisk, even. He wondered why, but nothing makes sense in the Realm of Darkness.

The wood beneath him is smooth and just as cold. A thin sheet under his body reminding him of the one he kept within his shelter in the Graveyard. Entirely impersonal.

He tries to get a gulp of air, but his throat trembles in weakness. It's scratchy and just shy of turning into a sore throat soon. He regrets it almost immediately. But a whiff of something in the air shakes off his grogginess instantly.

Faint Petrichor... bittersweet, burnt chocolate almost coffee like?... And thick smoky copal...

He almost chokes on it, which thankfully he doesn't; it would have made the tightness in his throat so much worse.

He doesn't have the strength to move his neck, let alone his body, stars, he's light headed...

His eyelids feel so heavy... And the familiar scent so comforting...

Maybe, he can go back and rest.

So he allows his eyes to droop, resting with his eyes closed for a few minutes. Entirely unaware of what conspired before this moment other an exhaustive hate.

Now was his time to rest.

He manages to turns on his side, using his arm to cushion his head, and the other to reach out for-

-Void... Regalia...?

Too tired to ponder if it was the right name, he accepts the summoned keyblade. It fits perfectly in his grasp, and that's enough to ease him back into a dreamless sleep.

The keyblade's resigned sapphire eye faithfully watches over him, quietly. Like it had hundreds of times before.

#kh #kingdom hearts #kh fanfic #kh vanitas #kh oc #starry stories #JESUS CHRIST THIS WAS A BEAST TO DO AND I JUST CUT IT SHORT LOLLLLL #Sorry ive been working on this for a while all on the tumblr app itself that where i usually do #this is not the norm but we were already in deep soooo #anyways please enjoy this angsty mess it was done on pure vibes alone #good night it is 5 am back to ponied #ponies* god mm a mess excuse typos lol #i really do be throwing vanitas against the wall soaked in milk huh #sorry boy ur a ragdoll now my b its just to fun to see him have to be taken care of/manhandled by Yoru cause shes almost 2x his hight #im not kidding. yoru is taller than any other kh character bc i said so #which means hes probably like. 7'5 or smth #allowed tho cause they're a homunculus lol #meanwhile Ori is- *gunshot* sorry no one is allowed to know until we get the Ori chapter actually

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