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ad-hawkeye · 3 months

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a big list of my favorite little alkaid moments

[modern] being found absolutely conked out in the snow on the mountain. that's one way to have a meet cute i guess.

[modern] alkaid's "morning call service" where he calls mc each morning pretending to be a hotel help desk staff member reminding her to wake up... only to keep it short sometimes because he can't bring himself to wake her up

[modern] whatever sort of Beep inside joke they have going on where they pretend to make a reservation or selection for each other

[modern] alkaid requesting to do the ET finger touch thing when talking about aliens with mc

[modern] mc claiming that she's the dangerous one of the two when it comes to her and alkaid.

[modern] beanie and sparkles having cat play dates. alkaid also using "sparkles would like to see beanie" as an excuse to see mc.

[modern] the only time this alkaid had a murderous look in his eyes was when someone tried to hurt sparkles.

[modern] "hey don't feel down! as long as you try your best, you can definitely become a horrible person!" "......! well if you really think so, then i'll give it a try."

[modern] alkaid being a natural flirt to the point where he doesn't even realize he's doing it sometimes, but being unable to take what he dishes by getting blushy or bashful when mc flirts with him instead.

[modern, halloween] alkaid absolutely struggling to put on the angel wings for his costume and needing mc to help him get the second wing on.

[modern, halloween] mc lamenting that she can't resist eating some of the candy she makes and alkaid being like. oh no. no, that's not falling to temptation, that's just taste testing. and it is Totally your duty.

[modern, halloween] alkaid apologizing for being too forward even though all he did was say he liked mc's bouquet for him the most. someone lock this man up, we are NOT safe with him on the streets.

[modern, princess day] alkaid being "deathly terrified of screwing up" bartending for princess day for mc so he practices.. for hours…. and hours…

[modern, love day] if mc chooses to look at the scenic photos alkaid took at the carnival, alkaid will jokingly claim the ones of him and her are now his and yoink them away from her

[modern, love day] alkaid saying mc can act like a cat when she visits his place, only for her to meow at him and step on his foot

[godheim] alkaid asking for a hug before he overexerts his magic and then goofily proclaiming that he's "so scandalous!" before giving mc another side hug.

[godheim] mc and alkaid's banter where alkaid initially says "good girl" to her for keeping her eyes closed during his magical overexertion, only for mc to say "you're being such a good boy" to his frozen body in the carriage, where his eyelids just barely twitch in vague annoyance.

[godheim] speaking of being frozen. he heard and saw everything mc did while he was in that state. so that was definitely him responding to her. he also remembered her kissing him. he refuses to answer mc when she asks if he was conscious.

[godheim] zack calling alkaid out on wearing his old mage outfit simply bc mc likes it. alkaid just smiles and is like hey. quiet. you might wake her up and she'll hear. that's not how you treat the guy who saved your life 🥺🥺

[godheim] alkaid's support for ayn and mc during ayn's route and helping the two of them escape.

[godheim] during the hunting event, alkaid has to be forced into participating by lars' orders. even then he still doesn't participate and proceeds to buy all of the meat at the market place with the money he and mc made off of his magic tricks. he claims this is definitely not cheating. mc agrees.

[eden] there's not a ton for eden since that world's alkaid is the equivalent of a sopping wet pitiful cat, but there's something endearing about alkaid learning all of his social graces and dating etiquette from old books. the prefect had to sit and watch all of this like some sort of long suffering older brother forced to play dolls or whatever

[eden] alkaid panicking and running off when mc asked him to find the missing boy who called for help.

[eden] out of all of the things he could have chosen to wear, alkaid picks out this like. coquette?? pretty boy tuxedo? WITH a cunty little earring? good for him... good for him!

[eden] he also makes a bunch of little model dioramas with houses, gardens and people in them. if he ever went to the modern world he would LOVE michael's.

[eden] in his epilogue, alkaid remade his little lantern with him and mc in it because she was the only one who could stir any kind of feeling in him after losing his emotions. he gets very embarrassed if she finds this out.

#lovebrush chronicles #alkaid mcgrath #addy rambles #THANK YOU to the discord for spitballing ideas around with me it meant the world :')#long post #im normal im normal im normal guys im normal im normal #just wanted to list out some of the smaller reasons why he wound up being one of my favs that ppl might miss hehe #tempted to do one for ayn one of these days he's my number twooo

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2aceofspades · 6 months

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I wasn't sure to make an ask or anything

Because like I'm super nervous to write to artists I really like and adore and appreciate their work

Take it as a complement ofc.

I was wondering... Do you think about Raph giving the rides on his arms for his brothers? Or even arm? Depends on who's riding on him?

I can't stop just thinking about how everyone would love to just sit on his arms, laying their arms and head on his head and just chilling while Raph is taking a break with one of them.

If somehow you'll see this I'll say it again I really like your work and the recent sticker mania was so wholesome if I wasn't too scared to write about stickers on turtles I would probably send something

But anyways take care of yourself! Remember to drink water and take a proper rest

I actually have a couple drawings of Raph and Leo doing something like this..

Gah these are old hehe..

So, yes, I do think Raph would do that for his brothers. And I think they'd love it every time. I also see this general idea on tumblr, that the younger bros just climb onto Raph, which is very very sweet.

In my own au, Raph and Leo co-lead the start of the apocalypse, so they spend the most time with each other at first. I don't think Leo would just randomly climb onto Raph or even ask to do that very often, but he would probably seek some kind of unspoken comfort from him from time to time...I think they both would. I have a few sketches of that..

I'm a fool for them ❤️💙 which is why I draw them interacting the most often..

How I draw them interacting is very much inspired by my older bro and me; the protective older sibling and the somewhat chaotic middle child. I'm not a touchy person though, but we hang out quite a lot and we're very close.

Also thank you so much!! Gah you're too sweet ohmigosh 🥹🥹 I really appreciate all the love 🤗✨!!

#ace answers #i hope i explained my perspective well enough #also my apologies for the long post...i kinda rambled a bit along with the spam of drawings hehe..#anywhizzle!#thank you again so much!!#:)

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forourtomorrows · 4 months

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me ? drawing ? i guess so..

#delislittledrawings #ace attorney #aa #phoenix wright #trucy wright #do i tag apollo and athena ?? naaaah #anyways. hi ! long time no drawing. but hehe i redesigned the aa characters and it was fun #also i used some old drawings as reference for the colors and i’m glad to say i’ve improved a little since then ! it’s always nice to see #some progress hehe #and i see that it’s another year and another trucy ! i will never stop drawing her she became part of my life now lol #and yeah i really like drawing phoenix and trucy hanging out because in canon they’re never shown interacting much like a family #idk how to explain it but in aa4 it was fine and in aa5 & 6 she was just… here because she needed to be.#like. i’ll be forever disappointed by the second cases of aa6 w/ the non-existent reaction of phoenix like… that’s your daughter sir..#anyways i should stop rambling in my tags lol no one is reading that

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fuyuhayooo · 2 months

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I miss him :(

#my art #persona 3 #persona 3 reload #minato arisato #makoto yuki #makoto yuuki #約束の日2024 ペルソナ3 #ペルソナ3 #it's the day again guys :(#playing reload rn but I still miss him #the water is hand rendered btw isnt it cool #pls no flop I spent so long on it #okay bye im rambling hehe

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angeart · 21 days

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hhau mimic arc rambles - part II: reunion

(~3,4 k words) // part I here // au masterpost here --

After being left out in the open, weakened and alone, without supplies or his cloak, wings on full bright display, Grian… isn’t doing so well.

He barely survived the attack. He scrambled so much to defend himself. He used the arrow (the one that was once buried in his thigh; the one he kept because it was sharp-edged and better than nothing). There was so much blood. It was all so horrible.

Now he finds himself alone and cold and terrified, bleeding. Everything hurts and he doesn’t know where Scar is—

Where is Scar?

... Did Scar leave him?

Scar wouldn’t leave him, right? (He doesn’t want to believe it. But the possibility that Scar might be in danger, somewhere far away from Grian, is absolutely dreadful.)

The camp is empty when Grian stumbles back into it, and the ribbon is gone, and— Maybe Scar did replace him, after all? Got rid of the burden of Grian’s violet wings, chose the path of least resistance, opted for survival instead of trying to constantly fight against Grian’s doomed fate?

Grian is so scared and confused. Worried sick too, but he feels abandoned and doesn’t know where to go. He misses that fabric on his wrist. He feels so so alone.

He tries waiting, for a while. But it’s dangerous to stay put and, eventually, he’s forced to move. And it almost feels familiar, in some awful way—it’s as if he was plunged back into his first week in this world. Hostile and cruel and nightmarish, with no reprieve, no kindness, no gentleness. No warmth to curl against, no hands to hold him steady, no safety net beneath his wobbly feet. Except he’s worn down by months in this world. And it’s colder now. And on top of that, he’s already wounded horribly.

He scrambles from place to place, leaving a trail of blood that he’s sure someone can trace. He tries so hard to hide himself, to lose any potential pursuers, but—

But a part of him wants to leave a trace. A part of him keeps hopelessly wishing that Scar might be out there, looking for him.

As days pass, that seems less and less likely.

Grian barely sleeps, reverting to old habits of wings pressed tightly against harsh surfaces in an attempt to hide them, surrendering the very much needed warmth they could provide if only he wrapped them around himself instead. He shivers, exhaustedly alert to every little sound. Dizzy and hurting and terrified.

He’s got nothing left now. Being with Scar feels like less of a memory and more of a fever dream. He's so sure it’ll now forever be this: him, lost alone in this vast forest, running until he can’t anymore. It will be the cold, or the hunger, injuries, or the hunters—something will inevitably bring him down, soon.

He misses Scar.

He hopes Scar is okay.

(He tries not to think about how he wishes this would all just end.) (He tries not to sink too much into exhausted, hopeless despair.) (He tries to dredge up his pesky resistance, any sort of spite against fate that could fuel him to just keep going, keep surviving.)

It’s a harsh week. He gets into more fights, each of them bleak and panic-filled and horrible. (A lot of the scars he later has—including the one on his face—come from this week spent alone.) He’s so, so tired. It all hurts. He’s scared.

When it happens, he’s curled up, hurt and bruised, face dirty and bloodied, body shaking from the cold, stomach twisted with hunger. All of a sudden he jolts, thinking he heard something distant that sounded like Scar’s voice. And he doesn’t know if he’s imagining things, because at this point that seems more likely than this being real, but he still can’t help himself as something urgent swells in him, begging him to reply, to call back.

He tries to call for Scar, but his voice falters and fails. His throat is so dry. He hasn’t made a sound in days.

Scar’s voice moves further away and Grian panics. He scrambles, unfurling his sore wings. Everything aches, his balance is off, but he tries to get up anyway. Desperate, he lets out a cry—a loud, sob-like sound, the only one still willing to wrangle itself from his throat.

And then he does something he hasn’t done in months: he spreads his wings further, and he tries to fly.

The branches are thick, and Grian’s wings don’t really carry him, and in his blind desperation, he quickly crashes against a tree. His wing spikes with pain and he tumbles harshly to the ground, but he doesn’t pay it any attention.

Panicked desperation keeps flooding his veins as he’s sprawled on the forest floor, his own body not listening to him as his lungs edge hyperventillation. Because— Because Scar was there but he was moving away and Grian couldn’t follow and he’s— he’s—

He’s just going to die here, isn’t he?

The trees rustle. There’s a loud noise Grian can’t quite decipher, but it doesn’t matter.

All that registers is danger.

Danger danger danger danger

It’s only ever been those horrible creatures. Nothing good approaches from the sky here. Grian’s made too much noise, and now they’ve found him, and he can’t fight, not anymore, not again, please—

A series of panicked, frantic chirps spills out of him on nothing but blind instinct as he tries to back away, press against something, flatten against the ground, anything.

His wings are bright. He doesn’t have a cloak. He can’t hide. He can't run.

He doesn't stand a chance.

He can’t do anything as the source of danger swoops down on him.

---

When Scar left Juni, he was a mess of conflicted emotions, the hurt and betrayal fresh and wildly flaring. But as he keeps moving, those emotions get overrun by others that spread through him like a wildfire: the rage, the desperation, the fear.

He doesn’t know where to go.

He doesn’t know if Grian’e even alive.

With heart torn to pieces in his chest and nothing but feeble, foolish hope—and an insane amount of blind recklessness—he clutches the ribbon, spreads out his tattered wings, and leaps up, scaling the trees to get as high as he can. The morning light is soft, pale and gentle, interspersed with fog that obscures everything further in a cottony haze.

Scar’s wings struggle to carry him, but he doesn’t care. He needs to go. He needs to go, and this is the fastest way, and—

He’d do anything right now. Anything to find Grian.

Desperately, he tries to feel the tug of their connection; the dark fabric of the ribbon prickles against his grip in silent accusation and Scar begs it to lead him. Yet there’s nothing to help him pick a direction; he simply scrambles in whichever way feels right.

He hollers. It’s not a word, just a cry. A call.

He really shouldn’t be loud, shouldn’t heedlessly drag attention to himself, but he doesn’t care what he attracts. The only thing that matters is that he also attracts Grian.

It feels futile. The world is vast and Scar doesn’t even know which direction him and Juni took, because he was continuously dosed with weakness. He doesn’t know how to get back to where he saw Grian last. (Days ago—)

He flies and glides and leaps, yelling, heart feeling like it’s going to explode in his chest.

And then he hears it.

A sob. A wretchedly (wonderfully) familiar sob.

His ears twitch rapidly, latching onto that. His whole body whips backwards midair, almost making him tumble completely. Frantically, in a haze of vex magic that edges on feral, he delves in the direction where he heard it.

He knows he’s near when his ears flick, catching another sound. Terrified little chirps.

He makes his way down through the trees. Down the branches. Down towards his avian.

---

Grian’s panic breaks the moment he catches sight of those bright spectral wings. Broken. So broken. Tattered and frantic.

Scar is made of sharp claws and fangs and wisps of pale blue magic. He looks like a monster ready to pounce. He looks absolutely nightmarish and terrifying.

Grian’s never been more relieved in his life.

He scrambles forwards. He’s on his hands and knees and his wing throbs and his face is wounded and none of it matters. Scar rushes to meet him, his wings fading before he’s even on the ground, and he practically falls into an embrace. (His claws stay pressed to his palms, careful, so careful. His tail wraps around them as he holds on, holds on, never wanting to let go again.)

They both cling tightly and cry. Grian’s making garbled noises, as if he was trying to say things, but he’s crying too hard to be coherent; he just paws at Scar and clings and burrows into the comforting safety of his arms. (He thought Scar left him.) (He thought Scar got captured.) (He thought Scar was dead.)

Feeling the shivers and cold skin, Scar scrambles to wrap the cloak around Grian, noticing the limp wing in the process. (His heart hurts.)

The familiar weight of the cloak provides such a small but important sense of security. Grian tucks his wings underneath it, even though it hurts, one of the wings twitching and moving wrong. He hisses in pain, but it gets swallowed up by his sobs and crying.

Amidst it all, Scar isn’t doing well—he only just got clear headed from that constant dose of weakness and he’s just majorly overused his magic, slamming into trees as he glided recklessly—but he has to keep pushing through, keep using his magic to be able to function right now, because Grian is the priority here and Scar won’t rest until he knows Grian is safe.

Here isn’t safe. They’re out in the open, after making loads of noise. And— Grian’s hurt. He’s bleeding. It’s so clear that something happened and Scar wasn’t there and— He can’t bear it, can't forgive himself.

Grian looks so cold and small and scared. And even though Scar was dosed with weakness potions, at least he was fed and kept warm. At least he was carefully steered away from danger and into shelters, left to rest. At least he wasn’t alone, terrified out of his mind for his life.

Grian didn’t have any of those luxuries. And there’s no way Scar can undo any of it.

Now Grian presses close to him, desperate to have him be here and be real. Through the crying, something desperate comes through—something that sounds like “Please don’t leave me again.”

With a hitched breath and a heart torn to absolute pieces in his chest, Scar shakes his head. He’s choking on sobs as he babbles, “Never, no no no no, never, never—” Urgently, he tucks the ribbon back into Grian’s hands.

Grian thought he lost it forever. He immediately clings to it, in such a desperate, urgent gesture. Needing to feel it in his grasp, to tell himself that it wasn't lost, that its connection persists. That it still belongs to him. (The ribbon and Scar's heart alike—)

“Yours, yours yours yours.” Scar, too, means more than just the ribbon.

Grian cries so hard he can’t breathe. He’s holding onto the ribbon and pressing himself against Scar and— he’s loud. His sobs carry. He can’t get them under control; it’s just so so raw.

With shaking hands, Scar tries to tie the ribbon around Grian’s wrist, where it belongs. He’s shaking too much, he’s struggling. (Trying to ignore the bruising he sees there. As if someone tried to pin Grian down by his wrist—) He’s babbling incoherently through it all, the words that tumble out of him both reassurances and apologies, repeating that he’s here, he’s here, he’s so sorry. Once he manages to get the ribbon tied, his words stumble through “This is yours, always yours, I’m yours, I’m sorry—”

Grian has no words beyond Scar’s name.

In all of this, Scar’s feeling weird. He wants to scoop Grian up and never let go, but he’s a little afraid of his claws— a little afraid of himself, really. This has never happened quite like this, with the surge of vex magic that borders on feral. He is lucid but off. He still feels a bit like he’s spinning. This is real, right? It’s real?

A frightened squeeze to Grian’s hands is reciprocated with a squeeze back and a whimper. Scar makes a quick decision to pull Grian up, to lift him and hold him tight. (He feels so urgent and needy, desperate and afraid that Grian is going to slip away if he doesn’t hold on tight enough.) He tries not to be rough, but he still feels only barely in control of his own body. And despite the bruises and wounds that litter Grian’s body—despite everything hurting—Grian barely makes a sound of pain, instead tucking himself closely to Scar. Relieved to be held, to feel him so near. Trusting him fully with himself.

Securely holding Grian, Scar breaks into a run. His ears twitch, catching sounds of the forest as he tries to avoid them all. It’s chaotic. It’s all a bit of a blur. He keeps slurring more nonsense to Grian: “Sorry, safe, safe, never again, sorry.” Something broken about “love”.

Once Scar finds a semi-safe place, he kneels down, but he’s hesitant to let Grian go. Everything feels weird and light and he’s terrified it’s a dream he’s waking up from.

Grian isn’t any better, though; he keeps clinging to him, too. Scar was gone for so long and now he’s randomly back? He can’t quite process it; all that he knows is that he’s terrified to let go. (He remembers feeling woozy on weakness potions, and he remembers the deep pit of the fever from that arrow wound way back, and... This feels similar. Like maybe he’s not quite aware, not quite getting things right. Maybe— Maybe Scar isn’t here?)

Grian begs Scar to stay. (He feels like he’s asked that of him before, but it’s hazy in his exhausted mind.)

Scar can feel himself falling from the high of his magic; he feels weak again, confused, distant. But he latches onto that. “I’m not leaving,” he says, suddenly so clear. “He— he tricked me…” his voice wobbles. He feels awful, like a failure. He doesn’t want to think of the mimic ever again. He’s terrified to as well. The fact that he didn’t kill him means he could return—

Grian feels such a tangled mess at that admission. He wonders if Scar felt better with Juni? It took so long for him to realise and go looking for Grian, maybe he was better off with the fake one? It's so... it's so horrible to think that Scar took this long to realise Grian wasn't with him.

Scar still hasn’t let him down, instead falling to his knees entirely and cradling Grian close. He doesn’t want to admit how hard he fell for the trick. He hates himself for it. What if he didn’t find Grian?

His skin feels prickly and odd like his whole body has fallen asleep. He’s numb and weak and heavy and— Is he drugged again?

He wants to provide so many answers but— His skin is pulsing an off whitish blue. And he just croaks, “S–something’s wrong. I don’t feel— Grian. I don’t feel good.”

That singular admission throws Grian into sharp focus, panicked. He ignores his bruises and aches and the cold and tiredness, the wooziness from hunger and thirst—all of it. Instead, he whips to attention, looking Scar over. Trying to get him to tell Grian what’s wrong. (Obviously the colour is wrong—Scar’s not meant to pulsate with magic hue like this. But Grian doesn’t understand it. He’s never seen it. He’s— He’s so scared that this is something he won’t be able to help with, won’t be able to fix.)

Instead of a constructive answer, Scar stammers, slurred: “Did you— he— more potions?” He feels like he’s falling past some edge. His body won’t listen to him. His thoughts are turning fuzzy and staticky and he’s sick to his stomach, thinking about weakness potions.

Grian’s holding his cheeks, trying to keep eye contact. He doesn’t think a potion could do this. He pleads with Scar to tell him what does he need. How can he help?

The genuine concern from Grian horribly reminds Scar of the mimic. The nausea churns in his stomach, acidic, and he feels painfully helpless in this moment as everything seems to slip past his fingers. “Please be real?”

Grian makes a miserable sound, edging a startled sob. Something aborted and strained. His thumbs brush over Scar’s skin and he leans in. “I’m real,” he promises weakly, desperately, sealing it with a soft kiss to Scar’s cheek. And then another one to his temple, and his eyebrow, and his forehead. A swelling build up of helpless heartache translates to hot tears dripping down Grian’s face. “I’m here. You found me. I’m here.”

The tenderness, as well as the easy forwardness of the affection help reassure Scar. Juni wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t. He never did. (Maybe Scar should’ve realised sooner—)

Grian’s fingers brush over Scar’s cheeks. His touch is featherlight, gentle, as if he was worried Scar will break underneath his fingertips. (Scar’s skin still pulsates, a sickly hue that reminds Grian of those awful, rotting vines they found in a cave so many months ago.) (He doesn’t know what’s wrong with Scar and it terrifies him.) His breath hitches, and then he finds himself saying, “Please don’t leave me.” His voice cracks. It’s so awful.

The words snap Scar to attention—as much as he can currently manage. “God— No. No, not leaving.” The flickering hue of magic across Scar's skin speeds up, like a panicky heartbeat stuttering out of rhythm.

The change frightens Grian and he scrambles to make things better, in any way he can. He thinks maybe they need to stop panicking first. Maybe— Maybe they both just need to take a deep breath. Surely they could both benefit from some proper breathing.

He suggests just that, and it does help somewhat. The flickering slows and steadies and almost fades, and Grian moves to pepper Scar’s face with soft kisses, tiny and light and greedy. And wet. Because he can't seem to stop crying.

Grian’s own cheek throbs with his unhealed wound, but he doesn’t pay it any attention. He just needs— He needs Scar to be okay, and he needs him to be right here with him, and he needs both of them to believe that this is real.

With deliberation, he moves his hands to brush them over Scar’s ears, knowing full well how sensitive they are. Remembering Scar’s flush, that very first time, and the way his ears twitched underneath Grian’s touch. A weak, destabilised chuckle precedes his strained words, ready to break. “Remember when I did this before?”

Scar barks out a little laugh at that. And… it helps. It helps to hear Grian bringing up a private, intimate memory they both share.

And then all of a sudden, he’s begging for forgiveness. “I messed up. I’d… I’d never leave you, Grian.” Even with a leaden, exhausted body, he pulls together enough strength to graze his fingers over the wound on Grian’s face, his touch gentle and sad.

Grian falls quiet for a moment, breaths still tripping in his throat, coming out shaky. “I thought— I thought you—” He can’t say it.

“Never.”

Exhaling, Grian falls against Scar. He curls up and presses into the crook of his neck.

Scar still feels tingly and strange and light, but it’s almost pleasant now. Like he could pretend it’s from Grian and not overextertion. Like it’s just silly nerves. And even though he wants nothing more but to collapse, to curl up with Grian in his arms and drift off to sleep, he can’t. He can’t have that.

Because Grian’s wounded, and hungry, and so horribly exhausted, and Scar needs to patch him up and grant him some safety. He needs to try to clean Grian’s wounds. (On next to no supplies.) He needs to get him to eat something. (He doesn’t have anything to offer; he fled Juni so fast, unable to think past Grian might be dying right now.) He needs to let Grian rest, after a week of horror; he needs to take watch and let Grian sleep. (He’s so, so tired, the magic overuse weighing him down in a way that makes him almost certain he wouldn’t be able to put up much of a fight.)

This feels familiarly miserable.

But Grian isn’t dying.

He isn’t dying, and Scar found him, and they’re together. And he won’t let anything separate them ever again.

(But he might not have a choice.)

#hhau #ange rambles #ange writes #i borrowed a lot of link's words for scar's bits <3 #credit where credit's due #scarian #these rambles were long overdue #this was meant to be only like #half of the stuff #but i got carried away with details and it got too long #so there will be part THREE that is the aftermath of this disaster #and i'll also separate the bit about what happened to our li'l mimic friend #(friend might be a questionable word to use)#dw about that ending #that's not relevant to the mimic arc at all #>:3c hehe

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coffeebanana · 2 months

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as someone who is used to blurting out every single idea i have about my fics the second it occurs to me, WRITING A FIC AND KEEPING THINGS TO YOURSELF IS SO HARD I AM ONLY 4 CHAPTERS IN HOW DO PEOPLE DO THIS

#kayla rambles #mtl fic #idk how long it'll be exactly but probably in the range of 15-20 chapters?#possibly not that long because i do seem to be combining chapters from my initial outline #but i also never finished the initial outline so we shall see #and i'm still making things up as i go too...#but kjsdbfkdsbj driving me insane that people cannot grasp the full extent to which this is driving me insane #even my discord friends for the most part don't know what this is about which is WILD let me tell you #but yes this secret fic has consumed all waking thoughts for the past 5 days it's insane hehe

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castielsprostate · 7 months

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i dunno i think a lot of people have a very love hate relationship with the queer community because of the way the 90s/00s/10s media portrayed any sort of gay/queer/trans/lesbian/ace/etc relationship (whether in relations to others or themselves) as this inherent "silliness"? as this thing you're not supposed to talk about. it exists, but never let it show. it's there, but it shouldn't be seen. it's tolerable as long as it is silent.

it all ties back into misogynistic and the patriarchal systems that keep being persisted now. it's told as being a gay man is taking away your manhood, you are seen as weak and frilly and clearly not good enough to be a Real Man™. and being a lesbian takes away your femininity, you're too rough around the edges and are too manly thus you're not pretty because men can't be pretty that would mean they're gay, and thus you are not good enough to be a Real Woman™. the only "acceptable" way to be if you HAVE to be queer in any way is bisexual as long as you are a side character and stick to the "other side" when dating and end up with the opposite gender when getting married and settling down.

and even if the elements above were minor, being queer was shown as a struggle, something ugly and as a dirty little secret. a queer relationship was shown to be a funny gag, a dramatic storyline to have Normal Characters™ complete their acceptance storyline or advance their plots whilst the queer character is pushed off to the side. surface level inclusivity messages that are dressed up in "we love everyone" with the underlying tone of "we tolerate you as long as we have to and you're only here so we can hit a bigger audience"

all this to say that this is the reason most actors, male and female, are so opposed to admitting the characters they played in those decades were queer-coded in any way, shape or form. because that would mean voicing the quiet part out loud when they were told to keep it silent

#bestie idk what this is #sally you inspired this i think #this is so rambly and has NOTHING to do with the post you made lmao it just. it reminded me of this 💀 sowsie #*sowwie #sjonnie.text #text post #queer #lgbt #queer issues #modern day media #take all i say with a grain of salt im loser tumblr user castielsprostate afterall #queer issues in media #queer representation in media #queer representation #terfshits i swear to fucking god if you touch this post i will rip your fucking head off and eat your vocal chords do not fucking test me #:) hehe #long post

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arklay · 7 months

Text

RESIDENT EVIL → THE WESKER FAMILY

To the public, little is known of the families behind some of the world’s most renowned bioterrorists, but the question remains: did they play a role in causing their children to walk down the path that they did? Or are these individuals simply ambitious criminals with delusions of grandeur?

For Diana Wesker (née Afanasyeva), her introduction into the bioweapons black market trade was upon discovering her employers were using her research into limb regeneration with salamanders to further their experiments in creating enhanced soldiers, instead of developing human therapies with which she was recruited for. Although the prospect of using biological weapons in the military did not appeal to her, the concept remained fascinating for her own selfish endeavours. Born on the 27th of October, 1963 in Sydney, Australia to Russian immigrant parents, Diana had harsh expectations placed upon her at a young age, ones that no matter how hard she tried she could never live up to. Her mother, Tatyana, was an unfeeling woman, absent for long stretches of time with little regard to how it affected her daughters, much more concerned with her craft as an accomplished opera singer. Viktor was no better. A strict man whose role as father and ballet master blurred, he pushed his girls to one day follow in his footsteps. Whilst Sofia enjoyed ballet, and went on to become a professional ballet dancer, Diana’s heart was set on going into the field of biology. She wished to make a name for herself, separate from her family – to which she succeeded.

Diana was married to former U.S. Marine, Dave Monroe, for only a year until he was declared dead in 1992 after succumbing to injuries sustained in a horrific car accident. Foul play was ruled out while Diana played the role of the grief-stricken widow, but in reality, she had snapped after years of mistreatment at her husband’s hands, and opted for something she could pass off as an accident to be free of him. For years she believed he was dead – and he was, legally – but that proved to not be the case when he found his way back into her life again in 1999. Unbeknownst to her, she had been lied to by the police and coroner, who were paid off by her employers when they took Dave’s body for themselves and used him as one of their first test subjects in developing supersoldiers. Before he could ever hurt her again, Diana’s second husband, Albert Wesker, tracked the man down, captured him and tortured him, before allowing Diana to get her violent and bloody revenge.

The origins of Albert Wesker’s involvement in bioterrorism, alongside his twin sister, Alex, are much different than that of Diana’s. The two hail from London, Canada, but unfortunately, they hold no memories of their lives there, nor what happened to their biological parents when they were eight years old. Agents of Oswell E. Spencer, an aristocratic billionaire and eugenicist, took the twins from their home and executed their parents as per Spencer’s orders. Albert and Alex were then placed in a home funded by the Spencer Foundation where they were given new names and a privileged upbringing. They had access to the best education possible, free to pursue whichever field they decided, but it was by no accident they both went into virology and bioengineering; at home, their adoptive parents – agents whom they believed to be their real parents – instilled them with the beliefs of Oswell E. Spencer, harbouring disdain for war and pestilence, and believing humans to be an evolutionary dead-end in need of a rebirth. They were only two of the hundreds of children “adopted” as part of what is known as Project W, a plan intended to develop an advanced race of human beings. The most promising candidates were headhunted by Umbrella Pharmaceuticals, the twins amongst them, where they went on to create bioweapons for the company founded by none other than the man who had handpicked them for his plan. The final stage of this was to infect the thirteen Spencer saw fit, however, only two survived; Albert received the intended effects, now possessing superhuman abilities, however, Alex was only offered more time to live due to her terminal degenerative illness.

In the summer of 1995, Diana was working undercover within Umbrella to gather development data on their projects for her company. Here, she had a chance encounter with Albert, an intelligence officer at the time, which permanently altered the course of her life. The two were never seen far from one another’s side, marrying in 1998, and they went on to become notorious in the bioweapons industry. The development of the Uroboros virus was where things took a turn for the worst. Although Diana’s infection was successful and she bore abilities that rivalled her husband’s, the plan itself did not succeed as they had hoped, and almost cost Albert his life at the hands of his former subordinates.

Now, they work within the shadows, with Diana declared missing and Albert believed to be dead. Their legacy, however, lives on with the mark they left on the world. As visionaries in their field, they influenced bioterror attacks carried out by countless individuals and organisations. In turn, they also inspired others to fight against such atrocities. One such person happens to be Albert’s son from a former relationship, Jake Müller, whose existence he was unaware of.

#mine.#oc: diana #pair: ewskers #click for better quality cause it's large & tumblr ate it ♡#hii so happy birthday diana !! queen is 60 today :]#um. there's no template cause i made this from scratch...i couldn't find any i was vibing with so i was like you know what lmaoo #i'm sorry for the essay...it was meant to be just a short rundown of the family but well...that happened. typical leah fashion...#oh and guys. did you know that there's a limit to the amount you can put in one blockquote? that's why the rest is just left like that caus #i didn't like how it looked with a blockquote each paragraph...cause the spaces between were unever. you understand 😔#with the tree i was also going to include weskids adoptive parents but i couldn't figure out how to arrange it all & make it look nice !!#cause i also wanted to have spencer in there as well cause he's a big reason why the weskids are the way they are...was maybe gonna include #sherry as well. like connected to jake (hehe) and then do her parents too but that would've made things so wide & it's already big enough #yes. i hc that albert & alex are biological twins. just for clarification there :] i don't think i added anything else that isn't canon or #implied with canon. cause the weskids were put in homes (or at least whatever ''controlled environments'' means) where they were monitored #by umbrella but were unaware of it. so yeah. i don't think i really changed much there !!#honestly i could've kept rambling cause there's alex's whole situation. there's my lore with jake's mum. there's way more with the ewskers #but it's already so long & i can't be concise so there's that lmaoo oh also diana's grandma. so much stuff #also meant to say the weskids birthday in that ramble. it's january 15 1960 :] they are capricorn sun leo moons but alex was born earlier s #their rising signs are albert is a scorpio rising & alex is a libra rising !!#had to redo the image cause typo on diana's birth year for some reason lmao so if that messed up the formatting i will sob

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