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beevean · 29 days

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Some other thoughts, because I cannot and will not shut up.

This is Hector and Isaac's very second scene in the show. Hector ends up staring at Dracula's fireplace: he reminisces of his abusive parents, and how he set his house on fire with them inside. This immediately tells us, along with Dracula's speeches, what kind of person Hector is: despite his apparent softness that we'll see later on, he can be ruthless enough to kill, or at the very least punish, those who have wronged him.

Much later, Hector has been brought to the lowest point of his life. He's listening as the woman he has given his heart to is gleefully humiliating him in front of her sisters, describing in detail how he's going to be treated as a tool, as a dildo, as a pet, and only because he trusted the wrong person. Multiple times, in fact. He has been hurt by one too many people.

And by the time Hector's fate is sealed, the fireplace acts as the framing.

Basic cinematic symbolism indicates that Hector's backstory would be become relevant in the next season. As a child, he killed his abusers. And now he's in the clutches of two other people who abused his trust and good nature and stripped him of all freedom and dignity.

So, was Hector meant to set the entire castle on fire, and kill Carmilla and Lenore for what they did to him? And then it was changed to make the season artificially happier? Would it have been the narratively more sensible course of action?

Well, not necessarily. As fun as it is to imagine Hector taking revenge on those two pieces of shit, subversion of expectations can still be done well. And, to be fair, while Hector did kill his parents and is certainly not above murder in general, he seems to not be inherently violent in nature, even against someone who hurt him:

Carmilla has lied to him, insulted him, and coerced him into indirectly killing his master. He still speaks to her very candidly.

From what was shown until S3, Hector needs to be pushed to his absolute limit before he starts considering violence, but once he does, he has no mercy. The most obvious proof is his disastrous attempt to threaten Lenore:

Yeah, as ill thought as this was, I don't blame him for being this desperate, after the torture he was recently put through. From a certain perspective, it would have been nice to see a recreation of this scene, but with a Hector acting smarter, having learned from his mistakes.

However, to be honest, I don't think that seeing such a gentle character being brought to horrific violence would have been cathartic. It would have been tragic. It would have been actually a bad thing, a reason to be scared and to pity him. And it still wouldn't have addressed his utter apathy when it comes to keeping humans in a cage: hell, that act would have made him as bad as Isaac in S3.

With that being said, I will never, ever, accept how he was written after that scene.

I'm going to use an excellently written show to talk about the difference between taking the high road, and forgiveness.

Our good horseman here has been abused since infancy by his utter monster of a mother, who delighted in making him feel guilty for daring to be alive. Long story short, she is now old, weak, and senile to the point where she can't recognize him anymore. Bojack is planning to finally vent all of his anger for all she did to him, as soon as she's lucid enough - and who could blame him? By this point, no one would shed a tear for a woman who did her very best to ruin her son's life. Hell, some might have cheered when he more or less bullied her by "killing" her doll. No mercy for an abuser, right?

However, in a brilliant display of foreshadowing, the audience is made to suspect that Bojack won't actually get to tell his mother off. He already wasted the seasonal F-bomb here! And there are no freebies. So what's going to happen? Will Bojack simply be prevented from finally facing the woman who ruined his life, deprived by outside circumstances of the catharsis he needs?

youtube

No. He does it himself.

Right when he has Beatrice where he wants, in a terrible retirement home and finally lucid enough to recognize her son... right after she has committed her last unforgivable act and secretly poisoned Hollyhock with appetite suppressants until she overdosed... Bojack chooses to not hurt her.

He could have. She would have listened to him. The viewers would have understood. But instead, the last moment Bojack could talk with his mother is used to soothe her confusion and fear, and give her a comforting vision where she can feel loved and like everything is alright.

Bojack is not one to do selfless acts without getting anything in return, and he doesn't know anything about her terrible past that we viewers have witnessed through the episode that explain why she was so bitter towards her son: so this act of pity towards the person he hates the most in his life speaks wonders of his character and growth.

But he did not forgive her. The entirety of Free Churro is dedicated to Bojack's painful eulogy of Beatrice, where he makes clear that he still resents her, and the only reason he's sorry for her death is that now he knows that he has lost the chance to have a good relationship with the one who was supposed to care about him.

Beatrice was shown wanting to reconnect with Bojack, almost as an apology. But even if her personality didn't got in the way of a proper reconcilement, nothing she could have done would have made up for the pain she caused Bojack, and he's right in still remembering her as a cruel person. But still, we remember that one moment of kindness he gave her as one of the most powerful scenes in a powerful story, for the build-up and for the significance it has for both characters.

Bojack Horseman did a wonderful job in exploring the complicated feelings that arise from being a victim of abuse. It's not just hatred and desire for revenge: there is a deeper connection, and care despite everything, and regret, and longing, and wishful thinking, and all sorts of uncomfortable feelings that are hard to explain to someone on the outside.

Needless to say that Netflixvania only wishes it could have reached the heights of Bojack Horseman, and Hector is not conflicted about Lenore. He's not anything. He shows no tension when he talks with her as if they were friends (it's the very first scene we see with them after Hector cried over being made a slave in S3); he shows no resentment when he talks about the ring that she forced on him to make him a useful tool, as he was a mere "problem to be solved"; his one attempt to address what Lenore did to him is brushed off as a sick joke that he takes in stride; he shows no confusion in his attempts to reconcile the Lenore who talks to him like someone worthy of respect with the Lenore who sadistically took advantage of his vulnerability to trap him. And needless to say, Lenore doesn't exactly get a good justification as to why she thought to resort to rape by deception to get her way, leaving fans to scramble to find one that still leaves her sympathetic enough.

It's only when Isaac storms the castle that Hector finally shows the slightest twinge of resignation when he cages Lenore to allow him to do his thing, but also to protect the woman who apparently protected him as well. Only now there is emotion in his voice, care and regret at the same time. Once more, much like Alucard killing Dracula, it's a big emotional payoff to nothing - worse than nothing, even.

Hector leaving Lenore alive, even protecting her from Isaac, could have been him taking the high road. Instead of going on a rampage like subtly implied by the framing, he could have shown her pity, for understanding that for all her cruelty and manipulation, she too was just a pawn in Carmilla's insane scheme (admittedly the parallel intended by the narrative, but not addressed enough). It would have fit with the general idea that revenge is for children (the development that was given to Isaac), and perhaps, in a way, we can consider it the fitting punishment for Lenore: being precisely being forced to live and see what exactly she has become. If written well, the subversion of the revenge ending could have been brilliant, and poignant.

But there's nothing there, except some shallow banter wasted on Carmilla and dick jokes and some flat voice acting. There is no inner turmoil. Hector just likes Lenore for no proper reason, which, if we pretend the writing was not a rushed mess, implies that he forgave her off screen and now everything is all peachy between them. As if what Lenore did was that easy to forgive. And if it was that easy, regardless of whether it was forgivable or not, then why should I be impressed?

It doesn't speak of Hector's supposed good nature. It's not an admirable act of strength. The choice to let go was not pondered, because it was apparently never a choice. We are eventually left with a nothing narrative, one that doesn't address the events of the previous season except in the form of a joke, one that doesn't allow the characters to grow but rather to regress (because remember, Hector's big badass moment of trapping Lenore and cutting his finger is in the context of him wanting to bring back Dracula and letting himself be killed by Isaac), one that doesn't explore the complicated relationship between a kind mistress and her well-treated pet that was deceived into imprisonment, and one that offers no catharsis whatsoever when it comes to the end, where Lenore kills herself out of nowhere and Hector lets her go after at most one second of hesitation (I have my idea on how that scene should have went - oh look, another comparison with BH :P). And we're left with accidental but vile apologism, instead of the nuanced tale about abuse that we could have had. It would have been so easy, even with the time restraints.

And it wasn't even intentional. It's just sloppy writing hailed as something deeper than it actually is.

(I keep reading in the comment people who gush about Hector showing compassion to Lenore, instead of comparing Carmilla lying to her to Lenore lying to him. I get the parallel and I get the superficial sweetness. This story should not have happened after petty rape by deception: remove that, and all the bonding suddenly makes sense. I want to fix it so badly.)

#Youtube #anti netflixvania #i think i should tag these posts as anti l/h #although i don't want it to appear in the tag #i'm sorry but brain keeps braining and i feel the need to vent #again i understand if i am blocked or told that i am repetitive lol #i'm just so fascinated by this type of story and the dissonance between how it was written and the reception makes me explode #i want to see what you guys see! i can't!#btw i could have used su as another example #but i already feel too cringe and i have made my point i think #long post #sorry sorry i keep saying the same things i am aware

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soomanymoths · 5 months

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CrinklyTinfoil bs

Just a collection of receipts since krys decided to go ahead and spew such backwards bs im no longer willing to keep this to myself - i only did in the first place because crinkles spouse (nightjarteeth) asked me to keep it tucked away for a while (Night is aware of the events and supports me in the situation last i checked). Crinkle really hates the idea of their behavior backfiring & someone they hurt speaking about the experience. They will do anything to discredit people, doesnt matter if they caused the sitch in the 1st place. Its all about appearances, distorting events and grasping at straws for them. If you're their reader and you choose to believe them - remember they were comfortable pulling wool over the eyes of their spouse and someone they called a "dear friend". Ask yourself why anyone else would be exempt from this. I might update this when i have more time on my hands.

#crinklytinfoil #among us #not posting from main but hey hi i am nika / nikadilly #if you like their writing etc thats great but as someone who knew them for a few years now i feel p sure i can say #Crinkle is not a trustworthy person #i trusted them and it it only got me hurt #how they present themself is nothing but a facade and when you get close enough the cracks start to show #FYI a medical professional stated they are gaslighting people so that's that #if u want to see what i vented the tag on my personal is iykyk im not exactly interested in hiding it lol #my venting is v much true to their behavior #massive copium on these guys' side all around #unlike them i have no reason to bend anything to suit some shaky narrative / if im being a d/ck im being one for a very good reason #im not doing this for notes or whatever its just for my peace of mind & if anyone is interested to know what happened #bcs they will never own up to hurting ppl in any way that counts / they have to play a kicked puppy in front anyone who will listen #nicadilly #cw: sa mentions

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throwawayaccount3482348873289 · 3 months

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Response

Thank you to Jade/Lolthia @/edens-gemstone for replying to the previous post. I will make an exception in replying as yes, there was a part I forgot to add, which is additional evidence to prove that all your accusations in the comments below are completely false. Allow me to address them one by one.

At the end, I will include some follow-up questions to add additional context for other users.

THE ACCUSATIONS

“Also you literally stalked my tumblr after this, rb posts about Adam that I wasn’t comfy being rb and possibly sent me harassing anons (idk for sure)”

I do not have a Tumblr. This account is made by someone else, posting on my behalf. But if you really are confident that it’s me reblogging these posts and sending harassing anons, post the blog and the anons. If you don’t know for sure, why did you post this?

“You literally just… didn’t want me included because I wouldn't let you ship your OC with Ibara.”

As seen here, this claim is completely false. I explicitly mentioned that I had no problems with the pairing, but asked them to let me know prior next time to ensure the RP is consistent. I may have vaguely talked about an original story I was writing with my OC and Ibara outside of RP, but within the context of the RP, I have clearly stated that I was fine with the direction Lolthia wanted.

None of what they had mentioned was communicated to me at all before the start of the RP. They didn’t even acknowledge what I said, just responding with ‘well I figured it would be obvious’.

Lolthia’s behaviour here is consistent with their stated intention in the previous post: to RP not because they want to collaborate, but because they want other writers to expend time and effort to fulfil their self-ship fantasies, without giving as much in return. Therefore, they didn’t bother giving context, let alone asking if their RP partners were okay with it.

“You even stopped our RP after getting mad about me dating Ibara.”

Lolthia stopped the RP themselves after I confronted them for ranting on their public blog about a communication issue they were unhappy with in this server.

Someone alerted me that they were talking about their RP server on their blog. I was concerned about those in the server who were on Tumblr. As their RP partner, I requested that they delete it and talk to us first in the future. We then had the following conversation.

The conversation ended with this rude remark and Lolthia proceeded to be inactive for a long time before starting the argument in the previous post.

“I got tired of constant pings asking me for stuff”/ “I… asked to stop being pinged because I was going through enough”

I need you to understand that you are the admin of the server. We needed your help to create threads to hold our RPs in. Instead of not saying anything when we pinged you only to throw a tantrum about it, why didn’t you pass the permissions or moderator roles to someone else, or at least notify us that you’d be inactive for a certain amount of time?

In the post where we were planning an RP and pinged you - If your interpretation of ‘maybe they can come in later to keep the narrative consistent’ is us excluding you, that’s honestly a you problem, mate.

TO LOLTHIA/JADE

Only one of the claims you have made against me is correct. Yes - presently, I do not like you. But it’s not because you are whatever you identify as, or that you ship with a specific character.

I do not like you because you vagued your own server members, including myself, on your public blog. When I found out and asked you to edit out the mention of our server at minimum, you still had the gall to try to convince me it didn’t affect anyone but yourself.

I do not like you for insulting my friends and I as writers by saying we were ‘just an alternative to character.AI’ all along. And as people, by comparing us to the hate anons who had sent you death threats when we did nothing of the sort. Then, twisting the above into these accusations, without a shred of proof to go with them.

I am a ROLEPLAYER. Ibara to me is no more than a character and piece of intellectual property.

You:

Explicitly conveyed that your position was to use us to help you get validation for your alleged ‘relationships’ in a similar way to Character.AI.

Took out your jealousy towards other fandom members onto us, even getting emotional when we merely talked about and shared screenshots of characters you liked.

When we didn’t give you attention to your liking, accused us of ostracising you and wanting you dead.

Threw a tantrum at us for pinging you for basic admin duties as the server owner, because it wasn’t attention or praise.

The only irrational one here is not myself, but you, and the hard evidence in these two posts is overwhelming.

I won’t be entertaining any further responses. Please be reminded that any attempt to post my personal information publicly will be met with action by me.

TO OTHER USERS

Q: Did you make both these posts and the document?

No, these posts are follow-ups to the document containing evidence, made by a different person.

Q: Why did you feel the need to engage them rather than leave the server?

We had already talked only amongst ourselves, ignored any vents they had and began our own server long before these events.

Engaging them was at first a personal choice to defend my friends, who had done nothing wrong. At the time, I was not aware that this was common behaviour for them.

The comparison between us and the death threat anons, which could affect my friends’ reputations, was the most compelling reason for me to attempt straightening this out.

Q: Why has this post been made almost a year later?

Yes, I do agree that from the looks of it, Lolthia’s actions are old news. After I was informed, I personally did not want anything to do with them, and decided to let it go.

However, recently, my friends in the same fandom spaces have not had the luxury of curating their own online experiences because according to them, they are constantly remaking blogs. Furthermore, it was not easy for them to work up the courage to make this post, as being wrongfully accused of wanting someone’s death is not easy for anyone. So, I decided to back them up with the hard evidence they lacked.

Thank you for reading.

#ok to reblog #ok to rb #I may as well also say something in the tags (I am the one posting on someone else's behalf):#I myself hope this is the last post made on here as well. There is nothing more to add honestly.#This is honestly getting tiring. I know you will read this Jade one way or another. You will come across it.#If you have evidence for the contrary and can prove that you are in the right please do so (I already know you can't).#You will claim to be 'harrassed' but that is not our intention (anyone sending you harrassment or threats is not behavior we tolerate).#(Also no we are sending no one after you nor 'stalk your blog'. Don't act as if we don't have anything better to do... Because we do)#Let me tell you a secret Jade: You are NOT important. We only had enough of your behavior online since it does not change. At all.#It affects others - It affected us and it is affecting the communities you are in as well as a good portion of their members.#Please let it go already. But you can't. Because... As you said yourself 'Any attention is good attention'.#And some of your current mutuals will try to say 'it adds fuel to the fire'. This is not the intention in any way.#The only intention is to document Jade's online behavior and warn others. Because they have already gone too far.#This is to document and prove that they are no different no matter where they go. We only want to spread awareness.#It is not just me and the other person who are sick of it. Many others are sick of it as well. We want it to stop.#Their actions affect others nowadays as well. Only last month there was yet another incident heavily affecting another person.#Why? Because Jade thought it was necessary to make a 'callout post'. Even though the situation was long over.#This should have been long over and everyone involved is trying to move on. But you Jade make it impossible. This has gone on far enough.#Not to mention having been exposed to your drama and graphic vents (which at least sound suicide baity) have also stressed me out.#I kept out of the drama but it was affecting my mental state as well. All because you manage to land yourself into so many controversies.#I moved blogs because I had enough of your shit. Seeing it day in and out does a lot to a person.#'But no one cares about me' - We do not wish you ill (that is the truth) but this has to stop somehow. You are not the victim here.#It's always others but honestly... Given how much shit you got yourself into maybe you are to blame. This isn't normal after all.#Maybe ask yourself what you are doing wrong. But you won't. You never will. You will paint us as 'the bad ones' here.#That's the only thing you know how to do. You cannot owe up to anything and you are proving it time and time again. Even now.#Why do you get defensive now and not when the document dropped? Because there is solid evidence for your bullshit. That's why. You know it.#Deleting because you will throw a temper tantrum? No. Forget it. But again if you have proof for your claims come forward.#To me personally if you wish. But beware: This is not the first time I have dealt with this bullshit. I know this behavior all too well.#You are pulling bullshit I have already seen. My advice is to just log off already and sort your problems out.#This is not the first time I dealt with your type. You show the pattern I honestly expect and you will react as I expect.

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craycraybluejay · 6 months

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Codependency is underrated

#and kinda overrated also #bc when the ppl i love do anything my brain is like 'u dont matter to them'#i always talk ab how jealousy is not hot but im genuinely so full of envy and jealousy #like WHY ARE YOU TALKING TO THEM they talked shit to you about me ARE THEY STILL WHISPERING IN YOUR EAR #i get so mad!#its not FAIR that when i meddle in other ppls affairs im obliterated over it and cut off #but then when someone else meddles in MY relationships that person is forgiven and im expected to forgive them too?#no!#cut them off like you'd cut me off if i ever pulled that shit!#its not fair its a double standard #'its not going to happen again' i dont care they should actually just be dead but im willing to compromise #even compromise isnt enough for ppl they want to break ur heart and know u will let them #its an UNBALANCED codependency bc i know i would get rid of someone if that person asked me to instantly #i would especially never try to defend someone they dont like for good reason to them. wtf.#i just feel like such a doormat bc im always loyal and other ppl just arent #cant u see this person doesnt care ab u!! theyre using u for their image! theyre a parasite! why are they more important!#vent post #vent in tags #delete later

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arklay · 1 year

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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 !!

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