#here’s the thing I wrote last night

[thefreakandthehair]

"You can trust us to stick with you through thick and thin — to the bitter end. And you can trust us to keep any secret of yours — closer than you keep it yourself." Eddie quotes at Steve, poking him in the chest. Steve watches as Eddie sways, just a tiny bit but it betrays the facade of sobriety he'd been trying to hold.

Eddie’d once had a better tolerance but he couldn’t drink throughout his recovery and everyone was finding that Eddie is a tactile, Lord of the Rings-quoting type of drunk as a result.

They’re alone in the corner of Steve’s living room, their arms wrapped one another, and it mustn’t be shocking because no one is looking their way. Only their closest friends are present and they’re left with plenty of room to touch without strange looks.

"But you cannot trust us to let you face trouble alone, and go off without a word. We are your friends, Frodo." Eddie finishes and flashes a warm smile at Steve and sure, Steve is a little less than sober himself but it’s the same smile Eddie’s been tossing him for fucking months and Steve is just tipsy enough to catch it.

“You tryin' to tell me something, Munson?” Steve asks, reaching one arm out to steady his friend. Yeah, sure, just a friend, his mind teases.

It’s been a solid six or so months since they’d been victorious against Vecna and shut down the Upside Down for good. And okay, he and Eddie have shared a bed more nights than they haven’t since then and it’s perhaps been a lot more than just friendly to Steve, but he’s learned not to make assumptions.

People don’t always feel about him the way he feels about them, and he can handle that. He can. At least, he can until Eddie starts drunkenly quoting the Lord of the Rings at him after a few shots at his New Years Eve party leading into ‘87. He’s got one hand wrapped around the back of neck, absently tugging on the hair at the nape, and Steve is trying to sober up enough so he doesn’t kiss his friend and read this all wrong.

“You were Frodo, Steve. And I was Sam. And I love you.” Eddie says, giggly but genuinely with both his hands digging into Steve’s waist now. The grin is real— it touches his glossy eyes and spreads across his face easily.

And I love you bounces around like a rogue ping pong ball in Steve’s chest. Steve sees that Eddie’s drunk— he can tell from the giggle, the tight grip on his skin, the glossy eyes. And Steve is heartbroken. He’s been head over heels for the man in front of him for at least the three months, consciously at least, and here he is, reminding Steve of everything he can’t have.

“Man, don’t say shit like that if you don’t mean it, alright?” Steve tries to make it joking, tries to laugh and smile in the way he thinks he should because Eddie's drunk but shit, if he hasn't daydreamed about Eddie saying those words to him. 

Eddie though? Well, Eddie might be drunk but goddamn it he knows Steve. And he means it. He loves Steve so much, it feels like it's trying to claw its way out of his body. He's just tipsy enough to finally tell him.

“Stevie, I do mean it. I mean okay—”  Eddie readjusts his Zeppelin shirt beneath his leather jacket and stands taller, fingers threading their way through Steve’s belt loops. “I may not be completely sober but I’m like, completely fuckin' in love with you? How dumb is that?” He laughs and ducks his head against Steve’s chest, wrapping his arms around back Steve's waist where this all began.

“Not dumb at all, Ed. Not dumb at all. Ball’s gonna drop soon, wanna watch it?” Steve feels Eddie's laugh against his chest where he holds Eddie tighter, suddenly afraid of beginning a new year. Eddie clings to him and Steve's brain begins a hysterical loop of questions like What if Eddie suddenly doesn't want to be this close when it's not 1986? When it's not the same year that we'd met and fought demons together? What if this fades, like everything else has?

"I dunno, do you love me? Be a hell of a way to ring in a new year, gettin' kissed by the one and only Steve Harrington!" Eddie's question throws a stick into the wheel of his looping brain, screeching it to a halt.

Steve knows this isn't the time and he knows Eddie probably won't even remember this in the morning but he does it anyways. He pulls back, takes a look around the room where all of their friends are cheering and counting down.

Robin had started the countdown at 60 seconds, just a touch too early, and they're only at 47 when Steve runs both of his shaking hands up and down the length of Eddie's arms. The last time they approach Eddie's shoulders, he keeps them there and inches closer, searching Eddie's wide, beguiled eyes for hesitation and finds none. Just finds what he always does: warmth, joy, comfort.

"39!"

"38!"

"37!"

"Ed, stop me if I've got it wrong."

"36!"

"35!"

"Definitely not wrong, Steve."

"33!"

"32!"

It's still 1986 when Steve Harrington finally kisses Eddie Munson. It's soft, gentle, close-lipped and tender without pushing for more. Eddie's fingers go numb and his toes curl in his boots, and Steve sees colors in a new way when they pull away and open their eyes.

"I do love you, Eddie." Steve says, breathless and happy in a way he hasn't been in years. He's still afraid, but even if he only gets this one moment, he's going all in for it. "So fucking much."

One palm comes up to rest on Steve's cheek, warm metal against his skin in the way of Eddie's rings. "It's not even the new year yet." He says with a laugh and a smile with his bottom lip between his teeth.

"19!"

"18!"

"Couldn't wait. I'll do it again in 1987, if you'll let me?"

"Any year, any dimension, Steve."

The countdown is getting closer and Dick Clark is yelling on the television when Steve grabs Eddie's hand and pulls him to join their friends, one arm slung over his shoulders and Eddie's around his waist. Steve gets a beaming smile and cocked eyebrow from Robin and his nod is all she needs.

"7!"

"6!"

"5!"

People start pairing off, and Steve's sober enough to realize that none of this would have made sense to him just a few months prior. Robin pulls Nancy closer with the hand not holding an obnoxiously loud noisemaker, Argyle smiles meaningfully at Jonathan, and Steve finds himself being spun back to face Eddie.

"Ready?"

"3!"

"2!"

"1!"

It's 1987 when Eddie Munson finally kisses Steve Harrington. They don't join the chorus of Happy New Year's! around them because it's Eddie's turn to kiss Steve, and he fucking does. A little harder, a little more tongue, a bite or two when Steve returns the same eagerness and impatience. It's Eddie who breaks the kiss, lips shiny and swollen.

"Gotta good feeling about '87, Stevie. Got a really good feeling."

#steddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #eddie munson x steve harrington #steddie fanfic #steddie fanfiction #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #st fanfic #myfic #fun fact: i wrote this in a draft on here last night while drinking and completely forgot about it until now #it's definitely not inspired by /me/ quoting lotr when i've had a couple of drinks (as several people found last night) #oops i gave eddie another personality trait <333 #alcohol tw #myblurbs

[laundrybiscuits]

Eden actually likes her name. When she thinks about the muslin-draped horrors she could’ve gotten stuck with, like poor Suzie, she feels guiltily glad she dodged that bullet. If she’d been the one who had to shoulder the impossible burden of being named Suzie, who knows how she might’ve turned out.

Eden is a word that could go a lot of ways. It’s almost as good as Lilith or Isis or something. It’s the kind of name that could be sexy, in the right hands. The kind of name you could say on stage: ladies and gentlemen, introducing the one and only Eden—

That’s where the picture stalls out, though. Eden Bingham is pretty awful, no matter how you spin it. She wants to pick a stage name like some glamorous Hollywood actress, but she hasn’t decided exactly what she wants yet. She thinks it would be real elegant to pick something French, like…like Verne. 

There’s a battered paperback tucked under her mattress at home, where sticky, prying little fingers can’t get at it. She’s not a fast reader, but she’s read it about a million times by now. Sometimes when she can’t sleep, she’ll take it out and just squint at it in the moonlight, tracing her fingertips over the faded elephant on the cover. It’s a story about some guy who was so bored he decided to travel all around the world, and nobody stopped him. He could just go. He didn’t have any kids or anything that he had to take care of or look after; in fact, there was some guy whose whole job was to look after him. 

For a little while, Eden thought about borrowing the main guy’s last name, but Eden Fogg sounds kind of old and stuffy. She could take the French valet’s name, but she’s not completely confident she knows how to pronounce Passepartout, and she’s terrified she’s going to say it wrong and nobody’s going to take her seriously ever again. 

The author’s French too, though, and his name seems a lot easier to handle. So, lately she’s been looking in the mirror and saying Eden Verne, hi my name is Eden Verne real quiet to herself, just testing it out. She’s not sure about it yet, but it’s definitely better than Eden Bingham. 

Eden Bingham is just a handful of years away from Edie Bingham, who spends her time looking after a house full of kids and wears shapeless floor-length dresses. But Eden Verne could be someone who travels and wears exciting makeup. Eden Verne drinks and swears and smokes, and she never has to deal with kids ever again. Beautiful, sophisticated men and women alike despair for love of her, but she never lets anyone stay more than a night. 

Anyway, she doesn’t have to figure out if she can carry off Verne yet, because the stupid boy she followed halfway across the country introduced her to his friends as Eden Bingham, so she never got the chance to decide if she was going to say something different. She probably wouldn’t have, but—maybe she would. Maybe. She’ll never know.

The thing with Argyle fizzled out pretty quick. He’s cute, and making out with him is fun, but he doesn’t ever seem to want anything real out of life. Eden can’t understand him at all, and worse yet, she’s pretty sure he doesn’t understand her. When they’re high, they communicate just fine giggling about the cosmos, but that’s not enough. She’s sure there’s supposed to be more, even if she’s not entirely sure what that means.

She broke up with him on an impulse, and sometimes she regrets it. He’s a good guy. He’s not like any other guy she’s ever known. He’s willing to drive clear across the country, which is what she liked about him to begin with. Maybe that’s as good as it gets for her.

But she can’t take it back now. It’s not even that she thinks he’d say no, necessarily; she just can’t handle the idea of trying to walk back something like that. She’d die of humiliation before the words made it out of her mouth. 

So Eden’s just here, in Hawkins, staying in her ex-fling’s best friend’s step-dad’s spare room because it’s still marginally better than having to hitch home to Utah. Argyle is planning to drive back to California in a few weeks, so she’s going to just ride with him then. In the meantime, she’s going to have a nice, quiet vacation in Indiana, doing whatever it is Midwesterners do in the summer, and then she’ll go home and nothing at all about the life of Eden Bingham will have changed.

#eden bingham #so yeah this is the robin rarepair I mentioned! I don't want to talk too much in the tags bc I want to see if I can sell it via narrative #obvs this is the same story as the matchmaking snippet I posted last night but I don't think it follows directly #I just wrote it & it seemed like a pretty self-contained thing so here u go #(also I'm kinda assuming this post is not going to be too popular given it has zero ship content and is about a very minor character haha) #(which is fine! that's just how fandom works! maximum engagement is not my goal I'm just here to try stuff out) #anyway there's a pretty good chance this'll get rewritten once I have a better handle on eden's voice #fic: somewhere sometime somehow

[elegyofthemoon]

i was thinking about that post a little more re: sampo being a part of the masked fools or even the stellaron hunters so i'm trying to keep my eyes peeled for some evidence for both sides

For the Stellaron Hunters, the only things I can really come up with is the Stellaron Hunter Logs in the Data Bank, with the name "Sam..." written down but trailing off

as well as trying to find some connection with the name "Epsilon" during his scene at the end of the Belobog arc, with Epsilon being the fifth letter of the Greek alphabet and there being 5 people known in the Stellaron Hunters: Blade, Silver Wolf, Sam (?), Kafka, and Elio.

As for the Masked Fools, using the same screenshot as above, the quote "True happiness always entails the manifestaton of the dignity of mankind" highlights the drive/motivations of Aha the Elation, with happiness being the true meaning of existence for humanity. The Masked Fools take this an extra step to seek out happiness by stirring trouble wherever they can.

There's also this tavern he mentions on his farewell to the unknown person

In the Simulated Universe, a tavern is also mentioned known as Tavern World's End, belonging to the Masked Fools.

Personally, I feel like there's a lot more argument for Sampo being a part of the Masked Fools here, but not against him being a Stellaron Hunter just yet. Just need more proof is all

#hsr notes #hi sorry im coming back to make a rather lengthy post orz #alskdjfah unfortunately hsr is like the One Thing thats making me chill through all this ✌🏼 #double Most Unfortunate that its mostly be gluing my eyeballs on this guy ahaha oops #idk if anyone wrote this out yet #i havent looked deeply into the theories for hsr...yet #ive only seen the ones for sampo being either/or and i ran into the tavern scene last night #so i was like oh! i can compile this now! excellent! #soooo here we are #honkai star rail #sampo koski #id love for others to give me some extra proof if they found any! just compile all of it lmao #snow speaks #'is it too early to be making this post?' its nearly 7 am its fine dont worry about it i have brainwormies

[yaoicoreren]

who even are these guys

#edward nashton #jonathan crane #fanart #ink drawing #dano riddler #bruce wayne #the joker #scriddlebatjokes #on twt im king of that tag and i expect to be king of it here as well #au enseñanza media #thats the au tag if i make more stuff for it in the future #if i think about it too much i sort of cant believe how much i removed this from the source haha #just the joker is a mix up of like all movie jokers bc the one from 2022 is just a cameo so theres not much to grab onto #i had the flu again last week so i turned to the familiar for comfort and it manifested in giving these guys a uniform and a situationship #who knows i might show you whatever weird things i wrote on my notes app while awake at night because my sinuses were all clogged up #anyways im feeling better now #have a nice rest of your day<3

[captainofthetidesbreath]

it's really funny that in all this gods debate, both in-universe and in the fandom, the Betrayer Gods are never accounted for except when it's occasionally convenient, again both in-universe and in the fandom, to list harms the Betrayer Gods specifically did or instigated, then ascribe it to broadly "the gods" (even when often the Prime Deities were involved in mitigating, opposing, or ending these things)

but for the most part, much of the discussion in both places centers on the Prime Deities, even when its "the gods" bc usually framed with "the powers in Vasselheim" of which the Betrayer Gods are not part. a lot of reasons for removing the gods from the world that discuss Vasselheim and temple hierarchies are about mortal systems related to the Prime Deities, and often I have a sense that people (in and out of universe) forget that there's a whole other half of the pantheon. if this is about killing the gods, then it is also about Lolth and Gruumsh and Asmodeus as much as it is Pelor—but it always feels that very few among even those in FAVOR of killing the gods think about the Betrayers at all.

but, the point I'm doing a poor job of unpacking here is that in conversations about the hierarchies of the world, worship of the Betrayer Gods is generally disallowed throughout the world—but a god-eater will eat those gods just the same. it's an interesting wrinkle in the entire construction of the arguments in-universe and out that generally goes completely unaddressed. if this is about freeing Exandria from the shackles of the gods, which much of the time is directly indicated to be referring to the influence of the Prime Deities as the mainline religion in the world, then one would suppose we need to unpack if the Betrayer Gods should be on the menu too.

it's just really interesting few seem to factor in that a lot of discussion about systems and presence does not meaningfully address Betrayer Gods. there just doesn't seem to be a place for them in this conversation anywhere, which is especially interesting when Calamity covered the resentments between the Prime Deities and the Betrayers and when Vespin was pitching "how about we kill the Betrayer Gods specifically, maybe replace them with nicer gods or disperse their domains out?" which is interesting against all this.

#this is no rebloggable bc I don't want this to spiral into a massive debate outside of my control here #also I wrote this at like 3am last night and did minimal editing. it is what it is. #Critical Role things

[shierak-inavva]

marriage

real quick before i kick into full mermay mode -- been doing some lore diving and have a lot of feelings 😭 they’re basically secretly married after a night in lake town by elven & dwarren conventions at this point

(or not-so-secretly, especially after she turns up with a baby bump a few months later 🫣)

#my ocs #elowen lenbereth #elowen of the green gaze #teladriel the lady of bronze starlight #thorin oakenshield #thorin oakenshield x oc #thorowen #lotr oc #elves are swans and dwarves are smaller chubbier swans #tolkien was a very straight white catholic man and physical intimacy = marriage is just so on brand there #there's a whole scene i wrote with a friend surrounding this because we went IN on it last night #they are VERY sweet and it is very sad they don't have more time together u_u #but that's what aus are for : D #the thing around their hands is for handfasting which isn't EXACTLY canon compliant but it's not NOT canon compliant #we thought it would be cute and so here it is u wu

[talesfrom-theupsidedown]

Steve while high: He’s just so cute with the lips and the hair and the butt ya know?

Steve: Do you think he likes me?

Steve: He’s mean but I kinda like it.

Steve: Should I ask him out? What if he says no?!?

Steve: oh god. Don’t tell Billy I said that. Shhhhhh.

Billy, currently dating Steve: Okay.

#high thoughts #relatable #😂😮‍💨 #billy hargrove #stranger things #harringrove #steve harrington #incorrect harringrove quotes #incorrect harringrove #I wrote this while high last night #still not sure if it makes sense #😂😂😂 #whatever #here ya go

[skoulsons]

Joel feeling like a failure and feeling the need to apologize to Ellie, even over things he can’t control, is, I think, very much an anxiety thing. And also comes down to who you are at your core. Even him telling Tommy, “I have to leave her,” because he doubts his capabilities in being able to protect her in the long run and believes she’ll be better off without him

Joel loves hard. He loves really hard when he does. He loved Tess, despite his inability to show it to her the extent I think we all believe it was. He loves Tommy, we know that. He was willing to drive cross country just to make sure he was okay after three weeks of radio silence. Maybe not loved, but he sure started to care about Henry and Sam and was willing to let them join he and Ellie on their journey to Jackson. And he loves, loves Ellie. More than he’s even comfortable with. (Un)willing to leave her, shove her away from him, even if it means she’ll be safe, as much as he wants to keep her right next to him, held against his side

But what comes with loving someone, what comes with having a heart like this, and what comes with this fear of the well-being and safety of those around you, is a striking belief in your inability to do for them what you believe you should do. It is blaming yourself for things out of your control when they come up in the others life. It’s believing you’re responsible for…nearly everything about them. It is caring way too much about them that you want to take that pain upon yourself to relieve that person of it. And it, in turn, makes you believe you’re not good enough when you can’t. Incapable. Unworthy. Along with the general mix of…not feeling adequate or good enough in general. You want to help this person in every way, but your belief in your inadequacy creates such a debilitating sense of understanding of what you really want and who you are

But, I say it’s an anxiety thing because of believing that person will blame you for something that’s out of your control. That because you couldn’t stop something that, frankly, is completely out of your control and responsibility and could’ve never stopped in a million years, you find a way to blame yourself and, in turn, think this person will also blame you for not being able to stop it. Because you care too much and are too freaked over protecting them that your understanding of how they feel gets completely warped. That you think they’ll lash out and cut you off. That they’ll be angry with you for what you couldn’t stop. And, out of the fear of believing that could happen, you take it upon yourself to apologize. To try and take it and place the blame upon yourself. To try and keep that person from becoming angry with you

And we know Joel (I think??) took anti anxiety meds even Before. That he was forced to cut it immediately, worsening it tremendously. And with how hard he loves, especially Ellie? That’s a nightmare for mental health. His fear over her life and well-being. His belief in his inability to protect her due to how afraid he is. How he’s failed at protecting her innocence, something that is inevitably out of his control because of the world they live in. How he probably blames himself for Ellie watching Henry off himself. Something, again, he could not control because Henry threatened his life. And nearly Ellie’s. And he tells Tommy he has to leave her because he believes he’s incapable and unworthy of protecting her. Maybe it is his age and hearing. More than that, I think it’s a mix of this anxiety and his golden love for her that makes him think it’s the right thing to do

People like this, like me, need a lot of convincing. Convincing and reaffirming that not everything is on us. That we can be taken care of. That we can take breaks and don’t have to hold the weight of the world on our shoulders, and I think that’s exactly what Winter does for Joel and Ellie. For Joel to, in my opinion, view himself in this light and to shove her away and for her to come running back, holding his hand and telling him, wordlessly, that she is there to take care of him. She’s there to convince him, “it’s you and me. Rest, let me take care of you.” To reaffirm and comfort him through it. Sure, he’s forced to rest bc he’s basically comatose, but it applies to at least the beginning. That his probably last real moment of consciousness before he wakes in episode 8 was her coming back to take care of him. To show him that it’s not just him

#maybe this is just 3am me projecting #which it VERY well could be #but idk I was thinking about joel and anxiety and my fingers just typed things #so who knows if this makes any sense whatsoever #if it doesn’t please act like I never ever typed this!! #the last of us hbo #tlou spoilers #joel miller #ellie williams #I feel like there are things I mentioned here that I did not connect back to but I am very very sleepy so I apologize for that #this feels like a school essay that I didn’t do an outline or a rough draft for #and I just handed it in when I wrote it all the night before

[b4kuch1n]

tdov was like a week ago already but I just wanna say when I came over to vacation slash help my sworn brother move flat he told me, "ever since you said you wanted to get top surgery I've been thinking about it. it's straight up number two on my bucket list"

#bakuspeech #number one is a house bc obviously. if u can own a house wouldnt u #he was very drunk at that time of the evening. I was not bc I have the constitution of a hot air balloon and any stimulant will blow me up #(relatively new development. france fucked me up big time turns out) #we held hand on his bed for like the whole evening. it was honestly very funny in hindsight but we were extremely earnest in the moment #and Im like. working on this thing as well. I dont got meds or therapy lmao Im bootstrappin here #but yeah early last year his bf offered to get me meds and I... turned it down... I think I was worried abt like. idk. something #but one year past looking back Im fully like that was a stupid move you shouldve gotten meds. youve once again fucked urself baku #but yeah with that kinda realization Ive also come to realized I've somewhat? accepted. that I'm just gonna be. like this #this in light of a number of likely chronic stuff too (hence my balloon-like constitution lmao) and #that's kinda bled into the rest of me without me really noticing #but him bringing that up fully unprompted... kinda jolted me out of it #its just. really incredibly sweet. that someone doesn't want me to settle for what I make do with #and like. preps for that work. just kinda held my hand and told me it's possible to do this actually #I didn't really express how I felt very well in that moment I think my brain is very bad and I process emotions with like a day of delay #but. well. Im thinking abt it Right Now. so yknow thats the kind of impact that had on me lol #not super sure why I wrote all this down here really. I think I just want a good n nice reminder that object permanence is real #and I exist in my friends' life even when Im going insane in a hole by myself #and with the power of friendship we can alter the universe's plan for ourselves and also kill god #that's that. anyways I eat lunch now and then pass out probably. last night was... eventful lmao #but!! very good things on the horizon hopefully. well manifestly we hold hammers and we use them #have a good day lads. let's go out and slay monsters under a highway

[thefreshprinceofjunes]

that soriku and the little mermaid gifset is killing me bc like

we have parallels between all the disney princess couples in the games and soriku???? i think??????? not just one but ALL?????????

like

snow white: probably weakest, but snow white ‘dead’ (asleep) and the prince saving her with love (ddd)

cinderella: also weaker but uhhhhh at the very least theres fairy godmother sending cinderella off to the ball to fufill her dream (MoM). and prince charming desperately looking for her is kinda?? soras journey in the first few games?????

sleeping beauty: ditto only true loves kiss breaking the spell (ddd) and also, aurora having a connection to prince phillip through her dreams (ddd/re:mind)

the little mermaid: ariel wants to leave the ocean and go explore another world. followed by eric looking for her, but shes been rEPLACED BY SOMEONE ELSE (VANESSA AKA NAMINE) WHOS USING SOMETHING OF HERS TO DISGUISE THEMSELF (ARIELS VOICE AKA THE METEOR SHOWER MEMORY) OH SHIT I JUST REALIZED THIS RIGHT AS IM TYPING THIS OUT WAIT WAIT HHOLD ON oOKAY okay im good im good now.  and then heres the gifset that started this all of course (kh2/re:coded)

beauty and the beast: right here babey! (kh1/kh2/ddd/com) + also this (chi)

aladdin: jasmine rebelling and sneaking out of the palace to go see the world. and this is from tvtropes but, ‘When Sora calls out for Riku after the second battle with the Parasite Cage, the staging of the scene is identical to when Aladdin called out for Jasmine after defeating Jafar in Agrabah: the Hero frantically calling out for their Love Interest as the room collapses around them while their allies drag them to safety.’ theres probably more with them but idk and its 4:30 am as i type this (kh1) ETA: aladdin and jasmine are directly compared to sora and riku in recom!

mulan: here + here >:^) (kh2 novel/ddd)

tangled: rapunzel wanting to leave her tower to see the world (kh3 novel) + this, after eugene is brought back to life with the power of true love (ddd)

and then frozen world doesnt even HAVE a couple BUT it does have anna and elsa! who are DIRECTLY compared to sora and riku!!! using the word love in english!!!! and the word used previously to describe rikus precious person in japanese (taisetsu)!!!!!!  here + here + multiple taisetsu links here

also uh???? anna frozen in ice??? sora frozen if you lose the yozora fight in re:mind???? hello???????????

ETA: okay wait there are some kristoff and anna parellels i forgot about/didnt think about IRT soriku LOL

(thank you @nobodyriku​)

literally the only disney princess couples (from the official disney princess lineup) that arent paralleled with soriku are pocahontas and (blech) john smith, and tiana and naveen. and thats bc those worlds arent in the games.

and HONORABLE MENTION goes to herc and megara. like even besides the taisetsu parallels, in the original movie theres herc diving into the river styx to save megaras soul. 

you know. like sora literally breaking time and space to save his friends, which starts with him following rikus light through the tunnel. where it kind of looks like hes swimming through water?????

and riku is the first one he finds

in. olympus.

like. do you see this. are we all seeing this. because holy moley, when you put it all together, its a lot

#kingdom hearts #soriku #kh meta #kh spoilers #kh3 spoilers #re:mind spoilers #melody of memory spoilers #disney #disney princess #like i said i wrote this at 4:30 am last night #and i dont rly feel like rewriting any of it #SO HERE IT IS #oh and uh i guess raya has a not lesbian couple #but i havent watched it yet lol #worst disney princess stan #i think there might be a best friend/rival turned evil thing tho???? #anyway thanks for coming to my ted talk #long post #ali's kh meta #popular

[silenthillbunni]

🧸🧃⛈️

#so like late last night i started to get rlly panicky nd upset #bc it's v much looking like im gnna fail my english class. i need to be done next wednesday which means i need to work rlly hard #nd go to school extra to have a presentation nd do tests etc etc #nd im still in pain after surgery nd im rlly depressed bc of my physical health so i just dont think i can be strong nd make it this time #in my almost breakdown i wrote a self referral to the clinic/psych department for personality disorders.... #it usually takes them around 2 days to answer you but this time at like 8am they sent me a message AND called me #(i think. im not certain it's them bc i havent checked the voice message or the reply lmaooo. but it should be them) #the thing abt having avpd is now im immediately stressed af nd i regret sending it. i donr wanna check their reply #also it might be bc i wrote a lot abt killing myseld etc etc nd now im worried theyre gnna be like girlie get checked in!!!! lol T-T #i just needed to be very clear nd act frsutrted nd desperate bc i have never gotten treatment in 10yrs nd im TIRED!!!! #my initial reaction is to avoid at all costs nd just pull my covers above my head nd pretend like i dont have to check their reply lol #i dont wannaaaaaa. i take it back i dont want help!!! its fine i dont wanna try or work hard let me rot #why did i do this!!!!! fml. anyway... i'll check later today bc since its early i can still use the excuse of sleepinf thru the days #many ppl working w mentally ill ppl understand that it's normal actually to switch the day around nd sleep during the days sksksk #but also i have no idea how many typos r in here bc im not wearing my glasses whoopsie #yeah.. anyway im gonna try to go back to sleep nd not think abt it #hopefully it wasnt even them calling 🤡 i know i HAVE to check later but not now i can take a few hours #then today i need to figure out if im gnna make one last attempt w my eng class or give up idk what to do

[whatwouldmickeydo]

This is gay.

Gay with a capital G A fucking Y

Possibly the gayest thing they’ve ever done.

He can’t say it out loud though, because then Ian will give him one of his annoying as fuck sanctimonious stares and lecture him about how they are in fact blah blah blah yeah ok whatever he can still think it, Ian can’t control his brain and he’s gonna think it as much as he wants as he stands here feeling like a fucking idiot with the sun shining and the wind ruffling his clothes while Ian clambers around on all fours setting up the picnic blanket.

He feels awkward and uncomfortable, standing there like an idiot holding the fruity little picnic basket that Ian refused to let him eat from on the way there.

He drops it on the ground next to him, scratches at his forehead as he look around, eyes narrowed, searching for anyone else that might be near and watching this little spectacle.

He knows he’s overreacting to this whole thing, he knows that.

Still, that underlying current of fear and shame is hard to beat back sometimes, that niggling in the back of his head that makes him feel stupid and dumb for even wanting things like this, puts him on edge and ready to lash out at a moment’s notice.

He’s not ready for therapy but he knows what they’ll say, whispered conversations with Ian in the dead of night where he feels safe enough to voice his fears, the bedcovers like a force keeping everything else at bay.

He’s brought back to the present at the sound of his name, looking down to see Ian sitting back on his haunches, hands on his thighs as he looks up at him.

“Mick, you good?”

He realizes belatedly he’s been standing in one spot with his fist clenched as he stares off into the distance, body tense.

Ian doesn’t move, relaxed and patient as he watches him, stays quiet as he lets him process.

It sends the warmest feeling down his spine at the way this man, his husband, somehow knows him so damn well.

How he lets him process, grounds him with a single look, never asking him to change.

He feels his body relax, breeze ruffling his flannel as he picks up the picnic basket and moves it onto the blanket before plopping down next to him.

“Yeah I’m good. You gonna let me eat this fuckin’ cheese now or what?”

Ian’s smile is dazzling in the sun, eyes sparkling as he leans forward to smack a kiss on his cheek.

“It’s your picnic, Mick. You can do whatever you want.”

#tell me why I woke up at 2 am thinking about Mickey having an existential crisis about going on a picnic #maybe this will give me the momentum to actually continue writing other things #anyway here have some words I wrote last night because I love thinking about Mickey enjoying things that are gay #and what’s gayer than a picnic #gallavich #shameless

[mistfallengw2]

Been lowkey gravitating towards making SotO a sort of "sidetrack quest" for Aurelia, and seeing other people discuss stuff of that nature has only fanned the flames. The main reason for her to go along with all of it was the chance of learning about what happened to her in the Mists (she quite strongly doesn't want to know, but you know... she wants to understand whether that thing will remain non-issue for Tyria or not), but that's not what's happening and it is messing her up in new ways.

Lil' "reflection story" under read more because of SotO spoilers from the last chapter.

Aurelia quietly approaches the figure near the cliff's edge, trying to shake off the thrill in her fur with each step. Peitha is silent and doesn't look at her, only a twitch in her posture acknowledging her presence. Supportive words die on the charr's fangs as she studies her expression. She doesn't need to guess, she knows what her ally is going through, and she knows better than to force unwanted advice when the wound is so fresh. Maybe it's the nayosian air taking a toll on her body, but honestly, she is not sure she even has the energy to do so anyway.

Half a year before this moment, Aurelia had stuck around and helped the Wizard's Court, thinking she'd be able to learn more about what had happened to her in the Mists.

Unknown entities pulling her into different dimensions was not something new to her, nor was finding out that a secret organization was doing something important for their own hushed reasons, but that day she had felt the distant void deep into her mind tug, and that idea had taken hold of her. Not knowing what caused that horror was the constant background noise of her sleepless nights, the quiet apprehension of whether that thing was safely in her forgotten past or something that Tyria would have to face sooner or later, the creeping fear that she was wasting time not preparing for yet another world-consuming crisis. Maybe that was her chance to find her own peace with it, or a new cause for the Pact. Anything was better than that limbo.

It all felt so promising at first: the Wizards seemed to know things about the Mists that the Priory could only dream of discovering, so it wasn't weird to assume that in the whole Wizard's Tower there could be something or someone that could give her at least a lead. Granted, the matter of Fractal experiments sparked anger and disgust in every single particle of her body, but they may have caught a glimpse of whatever it was in the process, maybe even gathered useful information. It was worth a shot despite all the things she was uncomfortable with, so the sooner that kryptis mess was resolved and she gained their trust, the faster she could put that anxiety to rest... and actually rest. She just had to play along their obsession with secrecy and save Tyria once more, then they'd have to lend her their knowledge for a little while, Zojja had assured her of it.

And then there was Peitha, a literal demon, who had sensed the mark that unknown thing had left on her, and even admitted that she instinctively feared whatever it was. Aurelia was called a fool for trusting the kryptis lady so easily, but that wasn't trust, not yet at that point, just... hope. If Peitha had sensed that quiet desperation as well, she didn't say, but after what happened, Aurelia felt more kinship with her than anyone else up there in the Tyrian skies, enough to decide to help her cause.

And yet, the more time passed, the more things started to unravel.

The white lie Aurelia had told to her family weighed heavily on her, but she kept telling herself that they were better off thinking her away on relaxing alone time every few months, just a call away from having an entire army and more descending from the sky to her aid if anything went awry. Ellara immediately knew she wasn't telling the whole truth, and her words of trust and comfort nearly broke her resolve, nearly made her ignore the call to action.

Meeting Isgarren was... not what Aurelia had hoped for. She had given him the benefit of the doubt at first, thinking him too preoccupied with what was happening after barely surviving Cerus, but things didn't improve -quite the opposite-, and the cracks in her hope deepended with each conversation shared with the seer. His insensitive words always grated her somewhere deep, somehow pinching her nerves more than those of many leaders she had dealt with, and yet, despite what she could best describe as heartless objectivity, he never mentioned anything about what had happened to her, even when she vagued about it. She doubted that was just courtesy, and she started to doubt he could -or would- help her in the search, though part of her was relieved at the idea of not having to stand him for any extended periods of time.

As for Zojja... Aurelia wanted to be supportive of the path her old friend had chosen -one she hoped she truly wanted-, but it hurt nonetheless to see someone desiring the kind of terrifying void she had gone through. But she knew what that sort of emptiness felt like, and she was willing to help, be there when it happened, ready on the other side to meet her and soften the blow. And yet, without a proper goodbye, the Zojja she knew was not there anymore, not where she could reach her.

Something had shifted then, before Aurelia even set foot in Nayos. She tried not to let it take hold, she'd long gotten used to disappointment, dead ends and going down paths laid down by others, but... she's tired, drained, alone. Her heart just does not feel in it, not without those who had always been at her side.

And in this moment, as Aurelia's weary stare moves from the pale face of her ally to the beam of eerie light coming from the fortified citadel suspended in the fog, something shifts again, uncomfortable.

It's certain that the nightmare she once survived is not in the Realm of Dreams, and the hope that her new friends can help her search for it has mostly faded, but she is needed there and that's enough for her. When Peitha will call her again, she won't leave her and the Astral Ward to face the tyrant alone, she has to leave again and save Tyria like always. Fool's errand or not, Commander or Wayfinder, that's what she is good for, and she has faced worse than that, after all. It's a small flicker of determination -at this point she's not even sure it can count as hope or desperation-, but if she can't get the answers from those who are on her side, maybe Eparch could be her best shot at her original goal. With any luck, fighting him will lead to him teasing and taunting her with something, anything. Better than nothing for sure. She sighs, and it dies down again. Her emotions checked out a while ago, even the panic she should be feeling right now is muted, and she knows she has just been going through the motions of what's by now her own nature.

Save the farm.

Then kill the demon that sleeps nearby.

Hope there'll be no more loss to mourn.

#my writing #gw2 soto #gw2 soto spoilers #soto spoilers #rambles #Aurelia Dragonwings #help this is the first time I post something I wrote #not exactly a first pass of fixes but still. yeeting it here before I change my mind #last night this thing was half of this and honestly barely comprehensible so this is not as bad I guess lol #first kinda-proper thing written in the last couple of months woo. but also aaaaaa #usually I work on stuff more before calling it “”“done”“” so it might be a bit ??? :') #just aaaaaaa

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

#ever sit like a corpse in your own body? #im doing a job i wasnt designed for. theres this funny thing we do in academia where we beg for money. write in consise phrasing why we #deserve funding. what it is about our project what it is about our personhood that makes us deserving. what we're doing in our present to #give back and ensure a better future. and i can pull together a description of a nervous kid who couldn't read but loved to learn anyway. #who didnt kno how to hold proper a conversation until college and so tried and got better at ppl. who wouldnt let a language problem get in #the way of information gain. who cares about making complicated info visually digestible. and that's a nice story. but it falls apart when #projected into the future. what r u doing for the future? im just trying to continue existing #dont u want to help other ppl like u? sure but i dont have anything nice to say to them. does it ever get easier? no. it probably never will #ur brain was not built for reading. sometimes things r just terrible and u have to accept that. develop a crippling mental disorder or do #something where u dont have to read. see. not helpful. bad attitude. im just too full of blood and broken glass. all my achievements r #stained red and it hurts to look at them. to get myself to function i have to squeeze so tight i can feel the strain in my head. and even #then its not enough. do u kno what its like to spend ur whole life building something only to watch it burn to ashes in front of u? just a #broken machine rotting away underground where no one will see it. but dont let things fester. speak up if somethings wrong. and say what? #lmao i wrote this last night and then today when my advisor was like: hows it going? do u feel like u have enough time to get everything #done? and i had the gall to be like *voice strained high to prevent crying* its alright i think ive got enough time. bc yea technically i #think there r enough hours in yhr day that if i really tried i could get it all done. but that doesn't count the time i spend laying with #thr absolute desolation of my mind. so no. there isnt enough time bc im not doing well. but there's nothing he can do abt it so ya kno #whats the point in talking abt it except to say ya sorry im such a wretched miserable person. i dont kno how to fix it. my enthusiasm is #hidden under layer upon layer of pain. i burnef out before even getting here and im only making it worse #but whatever ill see my therapist Tuesday #unrelated

[arklay]

seeing stars.

pairing: diana x albert wesker words: 7.0k warnings: migraine, nausea and vertigo, brief mentions of food and alcohol, internalised ableism [read on ao3] — [part one]

A long exhale sounded from the en suite bathroom. It wasn’t one of relief. No, it was strained, wavering as it left parted lips – the evidence of a day riddled with nothing but stress.

Wesker slowly opened his eyes and looked up at the mirror from how he had hung his head, his hands resting on either side of the basin. The figure behind his reflection caught his eye instantly – dark hair a stark contrast to the white doorframe its lovely owner was leaning against. She was simply watching him with this faint, barely-there frown strewn about her features.

Despite being rather annoyed at Diana for sneaking up on him, or more so at himself for not noticing she had done so, he was glad she had kicked off her heels under the dining table. The last thing he needed right now was the shrill clicking of those awful things on the tile floor.

His head already felt like it had been put in a vise and someone was turning the handle; he didn’t need more noise to aggravate it.

“Where are your glasses?” Diana asked, and Wesker could only wonder if he’d imagined the worry clinging to the edge of her voice.

Could she tell he was in pain? That his sunglasses weren’t just some fashion statement people liked to tease him for? Had she put two and two together so easily when most were too dense to?

Wesker’s eyes darted up to lock on to hers in the mirror, though for only a split second, before he looked down again with a small huff. “I don’t know.”

He’d truly had a shocking day. It had been one thing after another, and at some point he had taken his glasses off to rub his eyes then forgot to put them back on. It wasn’t like him to misplace his belongings, and certainly not his shades, of all things, but the stressors piling up ensured the whereabouts of where he’d set them down slipped his mind faster than he thought possible.

It had all started with that pig, Brian Irons. The initial cause of his foul mood. That poor excuse of a man had proven himself to be a thorn in Wesker’s side time and time again; the police chief thought he could undermine those ensuring his unsavoury past was kept under wraps, but Wesker wasn’t going to stand for such insolent behaviour. He made sure to discuss the issue with William during his visit to the NEST around lunchtime, calling for a shorter leash.

However, the day only seemed to continue to go downhill once he’d returned to the station.

The problem wasn’t simply the piles of reports taking up space on his desk; the image of Diana wouldn’t leave his mind. He shouldn’t have stopped by her lab with coffee and spoken to her at all. He needed his focus to be solely on his work. The way she could capture his attention was quite bothersome, really. And that prompted a rather foolish decision on his part – a phone call with plans for dinner.

It didn’t end there. The newest S.T.A.R.S. recruits were a headache in and of themselves, yet getting a call from Sherry’s school the moment he left work had been the icing on the cake. She hadn’t been picked up hours beforehand, and being the next emergency contact, Wesker was informed of such incompetence.

William’s obsession with the G-Virus was getting out of hand. He’d always been more preoccupied with his work than the people around him, but forgetting to pick Sherry up from school was something else. Something Wesker didn’t quite like.

Not to mention it completely ruined his plans for the night.

With a suppressed clearing of her throat, Diana pulled him back to the present. She pushed herself off of the doorframe and made her way closer towards him. “Would you like me to look for them?”

Wesker shook his head and immediately regretted it; the sudden movement made him wince as a short wave of splitting pain made itself known right behind his left eye, causing him to grip the edge of the counter until his knuckles went white. The pain wasn’t unbearable yet, and he was glad his typical nausea seemed to be at bay, but he had no clue how long that would last. Not long, if he had to guess, given his luck with the rest of the day’s events.

Taking a deep breath through his nose and out through his mouth, he steadied himself. With each count, he found it easier to tolerate the ache, though it didn’t subside in the slightest. It would have to do though; he needed to get through his nighttime routine.

He reached over and slowly pulled his toothbrush out of its holder, making sure to not move more than what was necessary.

“No.”

Wesker glanced up at the mirror again with one of his brows quirked in genuine confusion, and he watched as Diana’s reflection inched closer. Then her hands were covering his. Why he found himself frozen at her touch was beyond him, but her soft fingers pressing against his skin was a welcome sensation.

She only pried the toothbrush and paste out of his grasp, far more gently than she needed to, then she placed them back to where they belonged.

“You are obviously unwell. You don’t need to brush your teeth when you feel like this,” she said, voice soft and oddly soothing, as opposed to the hammering against his skull.

Diana took Wesker’s hands in her own again, and her thumbs brushed along the raised veins on the backs of them in slow circles. It wasn’t just comforting to him, it was familiar, intimate, and the point at which he’d begun to embrace her touch rather than shun his craving for it was lost on him.

Her eyes finally landed on his own and she directed a small nod towards the door, making him aware of what she was about to do next. Then she took a step back. Then another. And she carefully pulled him along with her, guiding him towards his bedroom without so much as a word from him. Wesker couldn’t tear his eyes away from her. He didn’t know what to say, what to do, and with how tired he was, he could only let her take the lead. She seemed to have her mind set on making sure he would rest, and that made his chest feel much too tight.

It was almost as if she cared.

The trip to the foot of his bed felt much longer than usual. Diana’s cautious approach made sure of that. He was not intoxicated; she didn’t need to hold his hands and ensure he put one foot in front of the other. And yet she did. He felt like an absolute fool, but he still let her pull him along, regardless.

Once there, Diana sat him down on the edge before she quickly knelt down in front of him, tucking her legs beneath herself as she did so. Her attention went straight towards his boots and deft hands worked to untie their laces.

Wesker couldn’t quite wrap his head around her behaviour. He wasn't sure what to think. On any other day, he would’ve thought her kneeling between his legs quite amusing, especially with how she kept roughly pushing her stubborn tresses that kept falling in front of her face back behind her ears. But his head hurt far too much, and there was just this horrible warmth searing through his chest and up his neck, settling across his cheeks and threatening to join the burning at his temple.

The question in her eyes whenever she’d glance up at him certainly wasn’t helping either. It was almost wary, as though looking for permission to continue. Or perhaps assurance.

Her fingers wrapped around his ankle, carefully grasping it as she pulled off his boot. That made him feel far too odd, but she only repeated the action with its counterpart. He was thankful for the way she placed them next to one another by his bed though, all nice and neat, instead of simply tossing them to the side like anyone else would.

Diana pushed herself up off of the floor using her palms and moved to stand between his legs. Soft hands reached forward to cradle his face, the cool pads of her thumbs brushing along the high points of his cheeks. But she was only looking into his eyes, searching for… something.

He wasn’t quite sure what she was doing, to be completely honest. However, the repetitive movement along his cheekbones was calming, almost strangely so, and he hated that his eyes threatened to flutter shut and his hands itched to reach out and hold onto her sides – perhaps even pull her closer, if he dared.

How could she draw such a reaction from him? Especially given the circumstances.

The last thing Wesker needed was for her to look at him like he was some injured animal; he didn’t want her pity. It was enough that he let her drag him out of the bathroom when he was in the middle of carrying out his routines, as though he was caught in some sort of trance. But to look at him in such a way, to help him undress… It was ridiculous. He didn’t need to be fussed over.

Wesker reached up and closed his hands around her wrists. His grip was tight, though not enough to hurt her – merely cautionary, much like the glare he sent her way. Astute as she was, he had no doubt she would get the message.

Diana’s fingers fell away from his cheeks, curling in on themselves, but she didn’t move to break the distance between them. She only continued to hold his gaze, eyes still scanning his own in search of some answers, even as he loosened his hold on her wrists.

It had been wishful thinking, anyhow; he should’ve known she’d remain defiant.

Wesker pulled her hands further away from his face while he slowly rose to his feet. Then he let go, making them drop to her sides in a rather lifeless fashion. He didn’t miss the question in her eyes, or the way a crease formed between her brows, but he simply focused on manoeuvring around her towards his dresser – unsuccessfully at that, as his side brushed against hers with how he staggered.

Movement made the pain behind his eye considerably worse. The familiar sensation of tiny knives stabbing, leaving puncture wounds in their wake to obscure his vision, made it incredibly hard to keep his eyes open any longer. Wesker took a deep breath to try and steady himself, keeping as still as could be so as to not cause himself more pain. If only for a moment of relief.

One of his hands settled on the surface of the dresser while the other moved to open a drawer. He hoped Diana didn’t see how he fumbled with the pull handle. He wasn’t even sure why that bothered him. But he moved to correct his error far too quickly, causing him to lose balance slightly.

The sight of plain black, white and grey t-shirts folded up and sorted by tone brought some level of structure back to the chaos that had been Wesker’s day, and it pleased him more than it probably should have. The shirts were simply for when he was too cold to sleep shirtless – he wouldn’t be caught dead wearing them casually, otherwise – and he removed one from its designated place for himself, and one for Diana.

The next drawer he opened contained his pyjama pants, all monochromatic and devoid of patterns, akin to his shirts. Just the way he liked. There were a couple of blue pairs though. Not like that mattered; he chose black, as usual.

A tired sigh left him then.

“Diana.” The sound of her footsteps crossing the distance between them seemed to reach him later than when they’d occurred, because she was already standing at his side. Wesker simply handed her the t-shirt he’d chosen for her, then he spoke again without looking her way, “Would you like pants?”

Diana chuckled at that, and the corner of his lips twitched. He treasured that sound. Well and truly treasured it.

“I doubt anything will fit me,” she whispered, the smile in her voice telling him she was trying to subdue her laugh.

“You have long legs.”

She let out a low, sweet hum at his dry response and positioned herself behind him, lifting her chin to rest it on his shoulder as she watched his hands comb through the pairs of pants in the drawer below. It was clear to Diana that he wouldn’t find anything that would fit her, considering she was barely two thirds the width of him, but she let him figure that out for himself. Instead, her hands ran down his sides and towards his hips. She stood on tiptoe to press a lingering kiss to his cheek while one of her hands travelled between them.

“Doesn’t change that you have more hips than I do,” Diana said between another kiss, tone playful, while her hand squeezed a handful of his firm backside.

Wesker reached behind himself and swatted her hand away, but he couldn’t stop the slight chuckle that bubbled up in his throat before it escaped him – one that mirrored her own. Her arms changing position, wrapping around his waist with her chin settling against his shoulder once more, was not what he expected in response, however. The feeling that brought up inside of him was not something he wished to confront tonight.

He needed to place more distance between them.

“Drawstrings.” Wesker held up a pair of pants that could be tightened at the waist, negating her claims that there couldn’t possibly be anything of his that may stay up for her.

Diana held back another sigh as she loosened her arms and plucked the pants from his grasp. Their short moment of joking around certainly didn’t last long, but she wasn’t sure why she even expected it to. It wasn’t the time or place, but she simply didn’t know how to deal with the situation at hand; it was always difficult for her to navigate when someone wasn’t feeling well.

On the other hand, Wesker was none the wiser to Diana’s inner turmoil. He only withdrew from her slack embrace and returned to where he’d been sitting at the end of the bed earlier, entirely focused on ridding himself of the rest of his work clothes. Without her interference.

Nothing seemed to be in his favour today though, because the moment his hips met the bed the entire room began to spin. It wasn’t like he had sat down too fast – or maybe he had finally lost his bearings – but the way the room was warping around him with stars dancing across his vision caused him to squeeze his eyes shut. His teeth ground together of their own accord and he cursed himself for it as that only amplified the pain at his temple.

All Wesker could do was turn his attention towards the buttons of his shirt, trying to ground himself as best he could by focusing on the feeling of one beneath his fingertips. The way the edges pressed against his skin as he pushed the button through its assigned opening felt so much sharper than usual. And it didn’t help that he fumbled on the first go.

“Let me help you.”

The almost desperate plea from the voice across the room couldn’t have come from Diana. Surely. Not even the distinct accent and low, gravelly quality of it could convince him; she had never done such a thing, never sounded like that, even when he’d reduced her to ruins in bed.

The Diana he knew wasn’t so willing to offer assistance.

Wesker scoffed, perhaps a bit too harsh judging by the frown he received, and only roughly unfastened the next button on his shirt. “I do not need your help.”

Oh, how he wished that were true.

The bile burning the back of his throat begged to differ. And it was getting increasingly difficult to just keep his eyes open, like his lids were being weighed down by some invisible force.

The soft sound of a zipper made Wesker glance over to where Diana stood, only to watch as her skirt pooled around her feet. His hands paused what they were doing as his eyes lazily wandered over her, mesmerised by the way she was carefully rolling her tights down her long legs. It wasn’t until she moved on to her shirt and made quick work of the overpriced garment that he shook himself free of her spell. To say she was stunning was frustratingly accurate.

She stripped down to nothing but her panties before pulling his massive t-shirt over her tiny frame, adjusting her hair the minute it was over her head. That shouldn’t have made him smile to himself. The thought that she was cute shouldn’t have even crossed his mind in the first place.

It wasn’t that long ago when he’d considered her vain for constantly worrying about her appearance, and the first time she had worn one of his shirts he had thought she looked absolutely ridiculous – comical, even. It was only endearing now. He chose not to look too close into that change, convincing himself that the pain he was in was simply making him delirious.

Fuck, he just wanted to go to sleep. There was nothing in the world he wanted more than to close this day and reset in the morning.

Despite struggling with each one, Wesker managed to finish undoing the buttons of his shirt and he weakly shrugged it off of his shoulders. It went no further than that, however, even with another attempt. The motion only made his stomach lurch, like waves roiling at sea.

A defeated sigh left him at that, but he was too tired to fight it. He must have made for a pathetic sight, one he wished there was no one present to witness.

That would’ve been grand, if he was so fortunate. Diana was standing in front of him again after dropping the pants in her grasp and crossing the distance in only a few quick strides. Before he could protest once more, she reached forward and laid her hands flat against his shoulders; cold fingers dipped beneath material, causing a shiver to run through his entire body, before she gently pushed the sleeves down his arms. It was unnecessary, but Diana held his forearm as she pulled the sleeve off by grasping the cuff, making sure to not turn his shirt inside-out.

He’d kiss her for that if his head didn’t feel like it was going to explode at any minute.

As soon as she freed him of his undershirt with the same meticulous care, Diana returned to what she had started earlier, before Wesker had stopped her. This time around he wasn’t nearly as tense when she took his face in her hands. In fact, it was the most at ease he had felt all day.

The chill of her palms provided some relief to the burning beneath his skin and the stabbing behind his eye. Even if it was only for a moment – until his cheeks warmed her hands and ripped that pleasant sensation away from him.

The only difference from when they’d found themselves in this position earlier was that Diana now leaned down to place a brief kiss on his lips. Wesker expected some level of warmth in her gaze once she pulled away, but he was only met with the look someone would have when scolding a child who had just hurt themselves on the playground.

If she was insinuating that he was being childish, they’d have a whole other problem on their hands.

Diana readjusted her hold to cradle his face in a more secure manner, fingers pressing firm against his skin. “I know you don’t want my help, but I will not see you make yourself sick because you are too stubborn to let someone look after you.”

Wesker glared up at her. Well, he hoped it was a glare, because whatever left him was all that he could muster in his state. From the way one of Diana’s brows raised, he sure did something, even if he had no idea if it was what he had intended.

They simply looked into one another’s eyes, holding the steady gaze for far too long – a familiar occurrence that usually took place when she challenged him. He supposed it was the other way around this time. It wasn’t that he didn’t want her help, it was that he didn’t want anyone’s. He thought himself above that, and he had managed being in this position countless times before. Even if on some of those days he had gone to sleep without being able to change his clothes.

Perhaps he needed some help.

“Fine.” Wesker relented with a long blink, and allowed himself to settle against her touch and relax some more.

That earned him a faint smile from Diana before she leaned in again. His eyes fluttered shut out of habit, but her lips didn’t connect with his own. Instead, they landed on his forehead, and his moment of ease faded away instantly, his hands balling into fists at his sides the longer she lingered there.

The pit in his stomach seemed to lessen when she withdrew and dropped to her knees again. But his head felt absurdly heavy without her hands holding it up. There was too much running through his mind, it was getting overwhelming. And it wasn’t just the hammering at the side of his skull. He wanted her but he tensed up at her touch, he needed her but he hated her assistance, he… He shouldn’t have invited her over tonight.

What had he been thinking?

Slender fingers curling into the waistband of his pants pulled Wesker from his thoughts, and he looked down at Diana, who had glanced up at the same time with that question in her eyes once more, asking if it was alright to continue. He simply nodded and she focused her attention back to what she was doing; he even lifted his hips to allow her to pull his pants off. Whenever she had dealt with the button and zipper eluded him.

He despised that – the feeling that he was no longer in control, losing his vigilance as the pain distracted him too much. It wasn’t just that though, the woman before him also played a part in causing his dazed state.

It was strange. Wesker couldn’t recall ever having a lover treat him like this. She wasn’t telling him that he was going to be okay, that she was there for him, or any of that superficial nonsense. She was just assisting him, doing whatever needed to be done so that he would be comfortable enough to hopefully get some sleep. It brought about another dreadful sensation to the mix already pestering him.

He lifted a hand and placed it over Diana’s when she reached for the t-shirt he had haphazardly dropped on the bed when the vertigo had hit him. She only looked down at his large hand enveloping hers for a moment, seeming to be the one stunned now. Then her eyes finally darted up to his face, and the steely determination in them from before melted away into that look that unsettled him far more.

“I’m being overbearing, aren’t I?” she asked, a slight trace of a chuckle clinging to the edge of it, as though she was almost embarrassed by her behaviour.

Wesker let out what was probably supposed to be a laugh in response, but little more than an exhale came out. “No.”

He paused as his next words died on his tongue. Or more accurately, they didn’t seem to want to leave his throat and even get that far. Diana was none the wiser and just rose to her feet, hand slipping free of his own and taking the t-shirt with it. Wesker chewed on the inside of his cheek for but a fraction of a second before he swallowed his pride.

A sharp inhale, then he lifted his head to look up at her. “Thank you.”

The genuine smile that crossed Diana’s face made him feel far too warm, like the sun was bearing down on his skin and reaching the deepest parts of him; it wasn’t quite a grin, teeth staying hidden, but the corners of her eyes crinkled and the indents on her cheeks deepened somewhat. She didn’t give him much of a chance to admire it though, too preoccupied with making sure she didn’t move him around too much as she carefully pulled the shirt over his head and helped each of his arms into the sleeves.

“I take it you have photophobia,” she said matter-of-factly. It was almost too clinical-sounding for Wesker’s liking, odd as that may seem. The term alone just left a bad taste in his mouth.

It was sort of his own fault, which he didn’t like owning up to. He’d always had trouble with his sensitivity to bright lights, but he was only meant to wear the tinted glasses Umbrella prescribed him when in the lab or outside. It had been the relief he felt without a migraine clawing at his senses that made him forget he was wearing them at all, and in turn, that developed into a habit of leaving them on for nearly all waking hours. His eyes adjusted to the conditions and it only worsened his sensitivity when he was without his sunglasses.

What he wouldn’t give to have his youthful eyes back.

When Wesker didn’t respond to her, Diana gently cupped his cheek. He tried to meet her gaze, but her eyes were focused just below, where her thumb was brushing across the dark circle marring his skin. Another thing he wished he could reverse time to prevent.

As useful as her help was, Wesker couldn’t understand why she was doing this, why she was being so… kind. So tender. She wasn’t a nurturer, or the type to worry about others. Maybe she did actually care for him, more than she let on. That didn’t feel right though – it just left him profoundly uncomfortable. His mind had to be playing tricks on him with how exhausted he was. That was the only reasonable explanation.

Diana’s thumb paused its repetitive motion and she simply held her hand in place. It was just for another second or two, but her touch lingered well after she departed, leaving a pleasant tingle across his skin.

The last obstacle in the way of Wesker being able to just collapse into bed and hope that his migraine was gone by the morning was the pair of pyjama pants Diana was bunching up so she could help him change into them easily. His tired limbs seemed to move on their own, slipping into each pant leg with little input from him, but the moment he lifted his hips as she tugged the fabric over them, another surge of intense pain hit him, causing him to keel over.

It felt as though his head was being split in two, torn apart from the inside out. He could have sworn the eye taking the brunt of the pressure was going to pop out of its socket at any minute. The only thing he could do was rest his head in his hands and endure it, pressing his thumbs down on the innermost part of his brows in hopes to alleviate some of the pain.

Diana shuffled closer and reached forward to place her hands on his thighs. They only ran up and down the sides of them in a gentle, reassuring motion while her mind scrambled to recall the locations of where she’d seen every thing that could possibly aid him in his house.

Her brain was being just as helpful as his was, because she drew a blank, too taken aback by the sight in front of her. The intimidating Albert Wesker slumped over in pain – that was something she thought she’d never see. He always seemed so… invincible. Nothing could tear down his powerful image and break through his composed demeanour this easily, and she couldn’t quite believe her eyes.

“Albert?” Diana’s voice was so soft he almost didn’t hear it, but his name always sounded so much nicer spilling from her lips compared to anyone else’s. “Do you need a bucket? Or…” She paused for a second then let out a frustrated huff. “Where do you keep your painkillers?”

“They don’t work,” Wesker grumbled.

Of course they don’t, she thought. That would’ve been too easy.

Or he was being overdramatic. So, she pressed on. “Not even a little bit?”

The crease between his brows only deepened, and he squeezed his eyes shut. So, that was a definitive no.

Diana pursed her lips as she tried to think of what else she could do for him. She wasn’t familiar with actually dealing with a migraine, even if she knew all of the treatments on paper; she was fortunate enough to never get them, and she couldn’t remember the last time someone around her had. She could list off every over-the-counter painkiller and triptan that was used to specifically target a migraine, but that would do her no good. She didn’t know what worked for him.

There had to be something though. Diana moved to stand and go take a look at what was in the medicine cabinet in his bathroom, but Wesker fumbled to take her hand in his own.

That made her freeze on the spot.

She had no doubt he was cursing himself for doing such a thing, for how it almost seemed to be a reflex more than a conscious decision. Or perhaps he just needed something solid to hold on to. Whichever it was, Diana didn’t care, so long as it helped. Even if the way he was gripping her hand hurt like hell; she’d been through far worse, so the possibility of a broken bone was something she would simply bear.

“Here,” she whispered while carefully pulling Wesker up to stand a moment after she did so herself. He stumbled on his feet when upright, but Diana was there – the pillar to hold him up and save him from toppling over.

The arm not reaching for his – right hand clasping his own – was wrapped around his back. It served to keep him stable as she slowly guided him over to what she had long since been acquainted with as his preferred side of the bed. This whole ordeal would’ve been much easier if he wasn’t leaning his entire body weight against her, but at least the trip wasn’t too lengthy.

Their hands only parted when Diana let go to lean forward and pull back the covers for him. Wesker really hoped she didn’t see how his fingers extended on instinct, as if to chase her touch. It was utterly pathetic. The urge to hold her was getting increasingly annoying, and he wished his body would just try to not embarrass him for once.

He couldn’t exactly exert much control over his innate reactions in his condition, but if Diana noticed, she didn’t say anything. That was one positive, he supposed.

And the fact that he managed to sit on the bed on his own without dragging her down with him. That probably would’ve earned him a bony shoulder digging into his chest, and that would just make matters worse.

Diana didn’t have to, but she went so far as to help him lie down as well. In a way that wouldn’t make his head feel as though someone had taken a hammer to it, that is. All slow movements and firm but gentle touches, manipulating his limbs for him as they felt too heavy for him to move on his own. And when she was done, one of her hands reached up to smooth back his hair.

That brought about that dreadful flutter in the pit of Wesker’s stomach. Or maybe that was the nausea. He couldn’t tell at this point.

Weary eyes tried their hardest to stay trained on the figure lingering in front of them. But they were unsuccessful. Wesker couldn’t keep them open any longer, not when everything was spinning around like this. He couldn’t even make out what the expression strewn about Diana’s features was.

It didn’t even matter, because her comforting touch left him before the sound of her feet padding across the floor reached his ears – quickly, like she was in some rush. Unnecessary, Wesker thought. He wasn’t exactly going anywhere, lying there in agony.

He didn’t think it would get this bad. It had been so long since he’d had a migraine like this. The nausea, visual disturbances, and all of that nonsense was typical for him, but the vertigo would come and go. Every time it showed itself he was caught off guard; there was no getting used to the feeling of his body swaying back and forth when he was lying perfectly still.

That wasn’t even the worst of his problems.

His mind decided it wanted to be louder than the rhythmic pulse behind his eye, yelling at him to the point where his thoughts felt like they were what was causing his pain by bouncing around and colliding with his skull.

Weak. Pitiful. Unacceptable. Over and over again.

How could he let someone see him like this?

Not just someone, but her, of all people. The woman who would roll her eyes when one of the researchers called off work, the one who boasted about never getting sick, the one who carried herself like nothing could strike her down. Just like he did. And yet here he was, reduced to rubble by a bit of pain.

That’s what was confusing Wesker. Why was Diana being so considerate of his plight? He had no doubt she’d rather be at the lab, or really anywhere else, doing something worthwhile instead of this. She should just leave, honestly. There was no reason for her to stick around; it wasn’t like she felt anything more for him beyond fellowship. Sherry was wrong in her assumption; Diana wasn’t his partner.

She may have been his, but he certainly wasn’t hers. No, she just enjoyed toying with him.

Now was not the time to fall into thinking about that rubbish again. He should’ve never asked her if she wished to stay the night. Or invited her over for dinner in the first place, for that matter.

“Alright.”

That pulled Wesker out of his head. It may have only been low, simply a hurried mumble under one’s breath, but that entrancing voice was unmistakable to him. His little pity party hadn’t lasted long – privacy breached once more as Diana returned from whatever she had been doing. He really did despise that she was witnessing him in this state; this wasn’t how he wished for her to find out he suffered from migraines.

With her hands full, Diana crossed his room with the stride of someone on a mission – full of purpose. First, she placed a glass of water down on his nightstand, then she used her now free hand to pull the bucket she’d found in the laundry out from under her other arm, where it was sitting awkwardly and digging into her side. 

Once she set it down beside the bed, she crouched in front of Wesker and placed the ice pack she’d wrapped in a tea towel in one of his hands, which he lifted to his forehead immediately. Diana had no idea if that would help him or not, actually. She preferred heat for pain relief; being sensitive to the cold always made her recovery with injuries from ballet growing up a horrid experience. Maybe she should have looked to see if he had a heat pack instead. That would help alleviate the tension in his neck and shoulders.

No. She had what she needed, she wasn’t going to run around and make an even bigger fuss. It would probably make him feel worse, anyhow.

The only thing left to do was close the curtains and block out any light that threatened to seep into his room, whether that be from the street lamps illuminating the suburb or the bright moon itself. The significance of his blackout curtains now made much more sense to her.

When she stood to round the bed, Diana had no idea why she took the hand by his hip in her own and gave it a gentle squeeze. Her thumb even brushed across the back of it for a second. There was just this odd need to show him that she was there, that she wasn’t going anywhere.

Even as she pulled the curtains shut, the thought didn’t leave her mind.

She wasn’t going anywhere.

Taking care to not make the mattress dip too much, Diana climbed into bed next to Wesker. The last thing she wished was for her getting comfortable to cause him any undue pain because it jostled him about. It was only then, when the covers brushed across her bare legs, that she realised she was only wearing his shirt – the pyjama pants he’d chosen for her long forgotten somewhere to the darkness.

Wesker decided to be rather ungrateful for her cautious approach, as he moved on his own. Diana couldn’t help how her eyes wandered over him, taking in every detail she could as he began to slowly roll over; his brows were knit together, deepening the lines between them, his lips were pulled down in a frown, and his eyes were screwed shut. It was rather obvious to her that he was trying to not bring up all of his dinner, and that sent her heart plummeting down into her stomach. What he was going through really sunk in then.

She wished she could just take the pain away, make it all disappear and guarantee it would never return.

It was an awful feeling, watching the man who had only ever given her these tiny glimpses of vulnerability do what looked to be such a practised motion, as though he had a tried-and-true method for dealing with his nausea for so long.

She felt helpless. But why did she even care? Countless lovers had come and gone, not ever leaving an imprint on her heart, but he seemed to tug at every string.

A loud thump, immediately followed by a rather feeble sound, pulled Diana from her thoughts. It wasn’t quite a groan, but not nearly a whimper either, and she never thought she’d hear such a sound come from Wesker.

While turning, the ice pack had fallen free of his weak grasp and landed on the floor, causing the disturbance. Diana opened her mouth to speak, to ask him if he wanted her to pick it up for him, but she didn’t get a chance; he curled up against her side all of a sudden, resting his head on her chest. That was something she wasn’t prepared for. He had never done that before, and she wouldn’t be surprised if he heard the way her heart sped up at the act.

Diana kept her eyes fixed on the ceiling, not daring to look down at him while her arm hesitated to wrap around his back. What was she even supposed to do? This was all new territory for her, for them, and… it was overwhelming. She didn’t know what to think; there was just this massive weight that had been dropped onto her chest. And it wasn’t Wesker, or the way he slung his arm over her waist.

It was that somehow, despite everything, he had managed to worm his way past all of her defences and make her actually care for him.

But friends do care for one another, yes? That is a fact. And it’s not like their dates meant anything; she had gone on many with casual partners in the past, and they were merely a formality. The longing she felt for him was nothing beyond physical.

The arm around her tightened its hold on her side, pulling her closer, and Diana looked down just in time to see a grimace twist Wesker’s features before he turned his head to rest his brow against her breastbone. Whatever he grumbled as he did so, Diana couldn’t quite make out what it was.

She chewed on her lip while bringing a hand up to the back of his head, gently cradling it and holding him close. She found herself hesitating again, unsure of the implications of her touch – how it could be perceived. But the urge grew too strong soon enough. Whatever was going on between them was just that, and she wasn’t going to complicate matters by overanalysing it.

Her fingers ran through his hair, pressing firm against his scalp in somewhat of a massage. Diana absolutely hated the feeling of pomade residue on her fingers, but seeing the way his shoulders relaxed eased her disgust, if only slightly. She’d just have to deal with the waxy feeling on her skin, she supposed. It was a selfish thought but she wished he’d at least managed to rinse out his hair. She knew he hated it as well, though; his routines were always so important to him.

Wesker let out a long exhale and Diana paused the motion, unsure if what she was doing was actually making matters worse. He didn’t say anything, but the way he held her closer while his legs tangled with her own made her stomach flip, as though she was the one who was going to be sick.

The arm around his back held him firm as she leaned in to press a kiss to the top of his head. She never wanted him to go through this again, and she would find a way to ensure that.

For now though, she made a note to have a look for his glasses first thing tomorrow, before he woke.

#writing. #pair: ewskers #oc: diana #setting: early october 1996. same as part one as it's a continuation of that night // i think i said this all in the tags of the first part #already but i wrote these two fics back in march last year and decided to rewrite them for myself cause my writing has changed and i wanted #them to flow a bit better even though nothing has actually changed in them !! very special fics for me as it shows another side of diana #that i don't really talk much about. i mean all my fics are special to me otherwise i wouldn't write them but you know what i'm saying !! #i wasn't sure if i was going to post this or not cause i'm not feeling great about sharing my writing much but i'm just doing so for myself #if you do read it i would love to hear thoughts for either chapter and of course rbs and kudos are always appreciate but no pressure ever ♡ #i'll stop rambling cause i talked about it all in last post in my talk tag but i haven't been on here a lot due to a lot of health reasons #and feeling very disconnected and overwhelmed from here so i'm still around on twitter and such but things have been really bad recently #and i thought it best to not vent on here a lot like i used to and just kind of take time for me. i miss interacting with everyone on here #though and i hope everyone is doing well !!

[crossroadsdimension]

I am still feral about scared-of-his-own-past/genetics Vash and how he wants to save everyone but refuses to say who is in the right or wrong.

I would not be surprised if this man has sabotaged more than a few executions in his time (government sanctioned or otherwise), keeping people alive who have refused the hands that offer forgiveness and kindness.

You can only offer love and peace and forgiveness and kindness to people so many times before they make you realize they’re killing for killing’s sake, with no rhyme or reason beyond that. Some of those folks Vash saved are probably too far gone to even acknowledge that the lives they’re living aren’t good ones.

I’m not saying Vash having a soft heart is a bad thing. Being able to forgive your opponents for their wrongdoings is a strength that is so important to have.

It’s just that...there are some times when not even reaching out can save a person from themselves. If they bat your hand away and refuse the kindness you offer....

Vash is going to have to acknowledge this. That some of those killers out there aren’t going to even try to change their ways.

How exactly the show’s going to make him do that...I’m worried and eager to find out.

#cross' rambling #trigun #trigun stampede #vash the stampede #I'm still thinking about what I wrote last night and where things could go from here #how many bodies are going to hit the ground #before Vash realizes some people just CAN'T be saved?