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To Make Your Heart Sing (Albert Wesker x ftm!Reader)

3556 words, fluff, hurt/comfort, s.t.a.r.s. wesker, ftm!reader, top surgery mention, coming out, main character injury, soft wesker, established relationship | Fic Directory
some truths are simply hard to tell. still, they must be told
You tried your best to keep things under wraps.
RCPD’s human resources department knew of your ‘condition,’ but the file that landed on Captain Wesker’s desk a year and a half ago mentioned nothing of it. You were just, well, you. And that’s all you needed to be. You were hired and the rest was history.
Or it was supposed to be. Instead, you found yourself getting into the best of trouble. Make no mistake, Captain Wesker intimidated you to no end. Suppose that’s why the first time you turned a corner and the both of you knocked into each other left you a stuttering mess while you tried desperately to help him pick up the stack of paper he’d been holding. The other officers who had been in the adjacent break room had the luxury of watching with bated breath to see him chew you a new one for such a careless mistake.
But he didn’t.
The next was when you’d overcooked your food in the microwave, leading to a loud, wet pop and spaghetti sauce all over the insides of the machine. To your embarrassment, your captain was beside the coffee pot, brow arched just above the rim of his sunglasses as you sputtered and chuckled your apologies for both the mess and the noise.
You could’ve sworn he smiled.
Then there was that day you’d been running late. You called the precinct from your clunky Nokia, begging for forgiveness from your captain. As a peace offering, you offered to bring him coffee from a local shop, stating that it was “so much better than the liquid tar in the break room.” His silence had scared you half to death, but his acceptance carried the strangest hint of amusement. Black with two sugars, he’d told you. When you’d finally arrived and delivered it, he took it directly from you, fingers brushing yours and making your cheeks light up.
That was the first time you’d ever seen more than a miniscule smirk on his face.
Not to mention that time you’d pulled overtime and, upon entering to deliver yet another report, you’d found Wesker with his head resting atop his folded arms on the desk. To this very day, you still had no idea what came over you to retrieve your S.T.A.R.S. jacket from your desk and drape it over his back. You’d returned the next day to find it neatly folded atop your desk with a sticky note that simply said ‘Thank you.’
When the day came that he cornered you in the break room, black coffee with two sugars in hand from another one of your late mornings, you felt like a deer caught in headlights.
“I want to take you on a date.”
Your eyes practically fell out of your head and your cheeks went up in flames. You were stunned. Captain Wesker was into men? Not only that, but he was into you? You didn’t know what to say, what to do– anything. You must have sat there blinking with your mouth agape for minutes before he’d finally just hummed, snagged a napkin and wrote his number down for you.
“If you find it agreeable, call this number later. We can… work out the details then.”
Looking back on it, he seemed just as nervous in that moment as you felt. Not that you could blame him. You figured he must have observed you for a long time to gauge if you’d be receptive to advances from another man, but the risk was still high– rejection, risk of harassment accusations… all sorts of bad outcomes must have been weighing on his mind. But, that night, you called him. Awkward as it had been, you both settled on a restaurant an hour outside of the city to reduce the chances of you two being seen by the others from the station, and the rest? Well, it had progressed slow and steady, but your secret relationship with Captain Wesker, now simply Albert to you when appropriate, had entered its third month.
Which is why you’d grown nervous.
You didn’t know how to tell him. At some point, things would progress beyond warm kisses and tender touches. At some point your… anatomy was going to matter. You wish you would’ve told him before all of this began and saved yourself the potential heartache of losing what had been the sweetest, gentlest relationship you’d ever had. You worried yourself sick about it, always careful never to wear tank tops or shirts bright or thin enough that the tone of your chest scars could show through. Your testosterone shots were easy enough to hide, thankfully.
Albert had been nothing less than a pure gentleman throughout it all, never once pushing your boundaries or showing impatience when you’d shy away from things. Even the night you’d both fallen asleep on your bed consisted of little more than a hand resting atop the small of your back and your face nuzzled against the comforting rise and fall of his chest.
But, try as you might to hide it, Wesker had picked up on your anxieties.
“Have I made you uncomfortable?”
Your heart fell through the floor the night he’d asked that. You swore up and down over and over again that it was nothing he’d done and that you were just dealing with something that you didn’t know how to put into words. He accepted your answer without question, pressed a kiss to your knuckles, and continued reading the file he'd brought home from work.
Your mind always turned to thoughts of how you were going to tell him, distracting you at the worst times. Which, of course, put you in a situation where you had no choice in how the truth would come out.
The bulletproof vest had saved your life– for the most part, that is. Gunmen in a hostage situation had released a young girl, sending her out to run toward the blockade. She was to be a message, clearly, because they fired at her as soon as she got close.
You bolted out to cover her, mind devoid of sense the very moment you saw one of the men emerge from the building.
You took two to the chest with the first simply lodging into the center of your vest. The other managed to pierce, embedding in your right pectoral. You’d laid between squad cars and the steps to the bank for god knows how long, shaking fingers applying as much pressure to your wound as you could muster while the sun beat down on you without mercy. The next thing you knew, you were being thrown into an ambulance and given the good stuff, and you woke up after who knows how long in a hospital bed.
Your first visitors were Rebecca and Jill. You’d grown closer with them than most of the others– save for Wesker, of course.
“How are you feeling?”
You simply answer Jill with a lopsided smile and a hum, tipping your head back against the pillow. “Mm, yup.”
“I don’t think the pain meds have worn off yet,” Rebecca giggles from across the room where she inspects the whiteboard covered with hastily scribbled patient information.
“Lucky him. Should let Captain Wesker know he’s at least feeling good when we go back. He’s…” Jill turns to you with a sweet smile, clearly pondering her words. “Distraught is a… is a word for how he is right now..”
That, of course, breaks your heart. He was there when it happened. Albert saw you go down. Silly you, covering the girl they’d released…
Your eyelids grow heavier as time goes by, eventually slipping shut while you bask in their company. When they open again, you’ve got two nurses at your bedside. Even in your dazed state, you can put two and two together. Just a change of bandages…
“Hi, sweetheart!” Chirps the woman closest to you while she peels away tape and gauze. “You bled through so we’re just cleaning you up, okay?”
You simply nod and stare up at the ceiling. It doesn’t hurt, thankfully, and the only thing you feel is cold air on your chest. Part of you shudders. Medical settings could be… complicated with your unique condition. But you try not to anticipate the worst.
Oh how wrong you are.
“You can come in,” says the other nurse. “Just replacing his bandages. We’ll be out in a few.”
The hum in response yanks you from whatever blissful stupor the pain meds had lulled you into and you shoot up in the bed, shocking the nurse tending your wound.
“Careful, baby! You’ll tear your stitches–”
You barely hear her, nor do you feel her hands attempting to coax you back to the bed. You go down, but not before locking eyes with your one and only.
Fuck…
They’ve got the top of your gown off and there’s no way–
You swallow thickly as your throat closes with a wave of shame. You shut your eyes to hide the tears gathering within them, listening intently as Wesker’s nearly silent footsteps come to a halt on the other side of your bed. He sees you. There’s no way he doesn’t. He’ll have questions. Fuck, maybe he’ll just know outright. Wesker’s a smart man…
You should’ve told him.
You keep your eyes screwed shut for what feels like eternity, even after the door clicks and the nurses leave you to each other’s company. Neither of you says a word and it’s nearly pure silence until you hear the drag of a chair. You just about jump out of your skin when his fingertips graze your knuckles, but they don’t retreat. Instead, he takes your hand in his, lifts it, and presses kiss after kiss to it.
Your eyes crack open, vision bleary from tears and clearing as they spill. You find him looking at you with furrowed brows and some painful combination of worry and relief written across his face. His glasses are hooked on his shirt, showing you icy blues with a touch of red in the surrounding scleras.
“How do you feel?” His voice is as calm as ever, but, for once, his expression betrays him.
“Like I got shot,” you rasp. You crack the tiniest smile despite the swirling dread and anxiety filling you to the brim. You observe him for a minute, looking for something, anything to confirm your fears.
You find nothing.
“Indeed,” he hums, lips twitching at the corners. “I’m glad you’re in good spirits despite the tears.”
You give a weepy chuckle that turns to tight sobs. You feel so helpless and pathetic. You’d almost died and now your little secret had been put on wide display for him. Part of you figures this is just the universe’s way of telling you to get on with it. Just finally rip the bandaid off.
You suddenly start to rise from your flat position. Wesker watches you for signs of discomfort, taking his finger off the bed controls only once you were upright and–
Oh fuck– no, no, no!
They hadn’t buttoned your gown earlier. The front section falls forward and you scramble to push it back up, holding it in place as you clench your eyes shut and bite your tongue. His hand leaves yours and your stomach drops, ice shooting through your veins. For a minute, you think he’s leaving, but then–
Snap. Snap. Snap.
Your eyes widen, gaze falling to the hands working to pinch together the little buttons that run along the seam at your shoulder. Wesker leans across you just slightly to repeat the process on the other side. His scent fills your lungs and you can’t help but take a deep, greedy breath, chin quivering all the while.
“Would you like to stay with me while you recover?” He asks softly, taking his seat once more. “Or would you prefer if I stayed with you instead?”
It’s so earnest that you could scream. Part of you wonders if he’s just avoiding the elephant in the room.
“I imagine the comfort of your own home would lend itself better to your recovery,” he continues, taking your hand in his once more. “But I am not averse to either choice.”
“Al, you don’t have to–”
“You’ll need the help.” He says, giving your hand a gentle squeeze. “I assume you’ve had restrictions like this before.”
That cold feeling runs through your body again. He’s not avoiding it.
“Yeah…”
And he’s completely right. You will need help. You doubt your restrictions will be as tight as those you had after top surgery, but you did take a bullet to the chest. Two, technically…
“I want you to think about it.” Wesker checks his watch as he speaks, rising from his chair with a small huffed breath. “My break is nearly over, but I’ll try to come by again before visitation hours end. You should rest some more.”
You let your head fall back against the pillow once again, eyes fixed on him as he pushes the chair back to its original spot. Wesker approaches your bedside again, hand raising to rest against the side panel controls.
“Up or down?” He asks, voice soft.
“Mm, somewhere in between please.”
Your eyes lock with his as you descend. That same tenderness still dances in his gaze– the kind he saves for you and you alone. Despite the tendrils of anxiety tugging at your mind, you find such an act soothes you to the core. Wesker breaks eye contact for a split second to glance behind himself, ever the private man he is, and he leans over you. His lips press to your forehead first, warm and soft, and his right hand rises to your cheek to thumb at the curve. He holds that position for a moment, breaking it only to press another to your lips.
“Hm,” he hums, breaking away to glance at the monitor. He chuckles softly. “Your heart rate just jumped.”
Oh god, you think it yourself. You can practically feel your cheeks go up in flames, but you giggle nonetheless at his cheeky little observation. “Well, you know… handsome blonde guys named Albert do that to me.”
He leaves with a light shade of pink dusting his cheeks, much to your satisfaction.
They keep you at the hospital for another full day just to be safe. Wesker spent his lunch break with you again, during which he reminded you that he would absolutely be aiding you while you’re under physical restrictions– you need only pick the place. He’d been positive your own home would be better, so that’s what you opted for.
Much to your joy, you weren’t excessively limited. No heavy lifting, no strenuous activity– all the usuals. You were to have two full weeks off before returning to simple desk duty. Wesker picked you up, duffel bag of his necessities already packed in the back seat of his car, and brought you home. Things were stellar until you realized he wanted to do just about every little thing for you, convinced you would cause yourself further harm. Cooking was out of the question, so he made you meals that you could’ve sworn belonged in a gourmet restaurant rather than your little apartment. And laundry? Forget about it. You practically had to wrestle a handful of socks and towels from him so that you could feel less like a deadbeat. Wound care, though… that was where things got tricky. Wesker insisted that he be the one to change your bandages, and he did so twice a day, which was more often than was even recommended.
“I said I would take care of you. What kind of partner would I be if I let you walk around in old bandages, hm?”
It had been hard to let him do it. Despite knowing full well he had a clear view of your chest in the hospital, you were still apprehensive to let him see it again. No questions had been raised in regard to the origin of your scars, but that was somehow worse. For a time, you figured he chalked it up to some sort of wound obtained in the field, but the day came where his hands wandered and a fingertip trailed the line running beneath your left pectoral.
“I…” You try, swallowing thickly to quell your nerves.
“Tell me about them.” Wesker breathes, finger still running along the ridge, pausing over the parts that weren’t quite perfect.
The worst part of everything? You know full well you could just walk away and he’d leave it. Al never pries; he always respects your boundaries. 'No' has always been a complete sentence to him, something you’ve appreciated endlessly in your time together with him. But, all the same, wasn’t it time you gave an inch? The man so endlessly patient and sweet to you, despite how he presents himself to the rest of the world, deserved the truth.
So you spill.
“I’m transgender…” You murmur, words tight in your throat as you stare down to your socked feet. From there, the rest falls free. Every little detail. Childhood woes, adulthood struggles– how happy you were the day you got your very first shot of testosterone and how you felt like you had a new lease on life itself when you woke up from your chest surgery all those years ago. A tear or two escapes you as you tell your tale, but they’re not the bad kind. No… they come from something else entirely. A joy you could never put to words, a cresting wave of pride that you’ve come so far and lived so well despite every bump in the road, a sense of self that felt like wings upon your back… With every story, you find yourself meeting his gaze more often until you’re looking right into those icy blues.
If Albert is dissatisfied with your revelation, he doesn’t show it. Instead, he stands before you and listens intently to every word. Without his glasses, you can see his eyes soften at certain parts, but it's the way his hand doesn’t quite leave from where he’d touched your scar before that keeps you hopeful throughout the entire ordeal.
“And I– I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before, I just…” You exhale hard, eyes dropping with the weaning of that miracle burst of confidence. “Telling people is… difficult.”
“Did you think I would react badly?”
You didn’t expect such a question, let alone for it to be asked so gently. “I… yes and no.” You chew the inside of your cheek as you ponder the way to best explain it to him. “Not everyone is kind about it. I didn’t think– it wasn’t that I thought you’d be mean about it, I just… I didn’t want you to feel like I was lying to you…”
Wesker’s eyes flit to the side for a brief second. “I understand. Though I fail to see how you would’ve lied.”
At that, you let out a breathy little laugh, eyes closing as you shake your head. “So you’re okay with it?” You ask finally, hand rising to rest over his that still lingered at your chest. The anxiety returns and you worry the side of your lower lip between your canines.
“I am,” Wesker hums, offering you perhaps the softest, sweetest smile you’ve ever seen grace his face. His free hand reaches for the one that hangs loose by your side, holding it tenderly as he leans forward. At first you think he’s going for a kiss, which you happily prepare for, but he presses his forehead to yours. You allow your eyes to flutter shut, same as him. “I’m afraid you’ve stolen my heart, my dear.” He pauses for a moment, brushing his nose against yours. “You are who you are. I wouldn’t want you any other way.”
At that, there’s simply no helping the way you throw yourself at him, arms wrapping around him as tight as you can without agitating your wound. He returns your embrace immediately, palms stroking up and down the length of your back, perfectly warm against your skin.
There’s one last thing to tell him. Something that’s been in your heart for a while now. He deserves every truth from you, and you’re all too happy to give it to the man who assigns you heaps of reports at work and makes your heart sing at home.
“I love you.” You murmur against his collar, smiling big and wide at how his arms tighten around you. “I really, really love you.”
“Good,” he hums. Wesker rests his chin atop your head, swaying slightly as if to music that wasn’t there. “Because I really, really love you, too.”
You giggle at his mimicry, but, in truth, you’re overflowing with joy. It’s as if the sun itself has risen in your chest to hear those words, but that is simply the effect Wesker has on you.
What bliss to know you warm his heart the same.
#albert wesker#albert wesker x reader#albert wesker x you#wesker x reader#wesker x you#resident evil#dead by daylight#dbd#idek if dbd tags apply to stars wesker even though ik he's got the costume in game#idk. anyway#albert wesker fanfiction#i have been sad lately that there's such a lack of fics specifically for trans readers for my character faves. this is the result lol#so here's something#i might end up doing rewrites or adding more. but for now it's something#ik this isn't everyone's cup of tea but i think the gang deserves a lil treat#also if anyone knows the pic source pls lmk#i found it on pinterest but i can't make out the text
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I missed you - moonchaser - wc: 847 - @moonlit-sirius
The flat was quiet. Too quiet. The kind of quiet that pressed against Remus’ ears, thick and suffocating, the kind that made the absence of another body in the space feel like a gaping wound. The kind that settled deep in his bones, stretching out into the corners of the flat, curling into the empty spaces James usually filled.
Remus sat curled up on the couch, the glow of the television casting soft shadows against the walls. The film playing was some mindless action flick, one he barely paid attention to, except when the leading man—the man everyone adored, the man critics praised—flashed across the screen.
James Potter. His James.
His heart ached just looking at him, larger than life and leagues away from him. He should be used to it by now—the weeks alone, the missed calls, the endless waiting. But knowing didn’t make it hurt any less. He'd tried calling earlier. Straight to voicemail. Again. It wasn’t surprising, really. James was busy. James was always busy. That’s just how it was, but still—
It wasn’t just the silence that was unbearable. It was the waiting. The uncertainty. The way time stretched out impossibly when James was gone, days blending together, marked only by the occasional text message sent too late at night, James apologizing for being too exhausted to call.
With a quiet sigh, Remus shut the TV off. He needed to focus on something else, something productive. His studies, for example. He had essays to write, books to read. He couldn't afford to let himself mope about like some love-starved romantic from a tragic novel. So, he moved to the desk. He tapped his pen against the open notebook in front of him, staring at the half-finished sentence on the page. The words blurred together, meaningless.
When would James be home? Did he even say? Had Remus just forgotten in the midst of all the rushed goodbyes? James had a habit of leaving in a flurry—kisses pressed against Remus’ temple, murmured promises to text when he landed, quick, tight hugs before he was out the door and off to another set, another shoot, another whirlwind of flashing cameras and red carpets. Sometimes, Remus swore he could still feel the ghost of James’ touch long after he was gone, lingering in the sheets, on the sleeves of his sweaters. It was almost cruel, the way James’ absence took up just as much space as his presence.
The pen stilled in his grip, fingers tightening around it before he let out a breath and pushed back from the desk. This wasn’t helping. He needed tea. A simple thing, something warm to hold between his hands, something to ground him.
He went through the motions, filling the kettle, setting it on the stove. The soft hiss of heating water filled the space as he reached for his favorite mug. Maybe peppermint tonight. Something soothing. He stood by the counter, rubbing a hand over his tired face, willing the heaviness in his chest to ease just a little.
The flat felt too big without James in it. Too still. Even with all the little reminders of him scattered around—the hoodie James had left draped over the back of the couch, the half-empty bottle of cologne on the bathroom counter, the stupid little trinket he’d brought back from a film festival and left sitting on the bookshelf—none of it was enough. None of it could make up for the way Remus missed him.
He was so focused on his thoughts that he didn’t hear the soft creak of the front door opening. He didn’t hear the quiet footsteps behind him, nor the rustle of a bag being dropped onto the floor.
So when strong arms wrapped around his waist, pulling him back against a firm chest, he startled, breath catching, a quiet gasp slipping past his lips.
“Miss me, love?” James’ voice, warm and teasing, was right against his ear.
Remus let out a sharp exhale, shoulders slumping in relief as he turned in James’ arms, hands instinctively coming up to rest against his chest. “You absolute menace,” he muttered, eyes scanning James’ face like he was trying to commit it to memory all over again. His hair was a little longer, curling at the ends, and there were faint smudges of exhaustion beneath his eyes, but he was here. He was real.
James only grinned, unfazed. “Surprise.”
Remus huffed but couldn’t stop his fingers from tightening in the fabric of James’ hoodie, couldn’t stop himself from leaning in just a little. “You didn’t tell me you were coming home.”
James tilted his head, his grin softening. “Didn’t want you waiting up for me.”
“Too late,” Remus murmured, voice quiet.
James’ arms tightened around him, pulling him impossibly close, pressing a kiss against the top of his head. “I know,” he admitted. “I’m sorry.”
Remus closed his eyes, breathing him in. “You’re here now.”
“Yeah,” James whispered. “I’m here.”
And for the first time in weeks, Remus felt like he could finally breathe.
#marauders#moonchaser#eclipse#james potter#remus lupin#microfic#i missed them so much waiting for a prompt list#so here's something
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"i have something fucking special under this"
#i realized i never shared my logomo clips#so here's something#i guess the best stuff from the gig has already been shared so idk if i'll post more#but this was fun#logomo#käärijä#mine
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One of my favorite quotes from the first game.
#Portal#Portal fanart#Glados#android Glados#android Glados because she's easier to draw than regular Glados#IN BASE FOUR I'M FINE#I got ten likes with that post of me talking about my portal fanart so I took it to mean that people wanted to see it#so here's something#catch!!
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Valentines gift for my girlfriend
Please don’t repost on other platforms!
#it’s so embarrassing posting something on every platform at once… like oughhh look at me. anyway.#comics#Keep editing this caption a too late bc this already blew up.. my baddd lol#I know i cant control the internet but i would still really appreciate it if it stayed here…#im happy it resonates with people though!!
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(also feel free in the tags to clarify Why you made the choice you made!! :0c)
#polls#tumblr polls#For me I think the top ones would be the House. The Money. or the Friend Group. But I ultimately might would go for the house#JUST becuase it would be my Dream House which means it would already meet mostly all of my specifications#and what I might be looking for. which would save a lot of time searching or customizing/rennovating.#Also because I could use that as a way to leave the US lol.. like .. if I get to choose my dream location.. couldnt I just choose some othe#country?? But I wonder how that works. Can you legally 100% have full ownership of a property in a country yet not be a citizen of that#country?? Would you show up and be like 'erm.. i own this house.. so i shall now live in it' and theyd be like 'uh no. you cant live here#despite owning the house. leave.' ??#So I think the initial process of 1. scraping together funds to actually MOVE myself and my most valuable belongings physically#TO another country. and 2. figuring out how to STAY in that country . might end up being difficult.. BUT. if I could just work that#part of things out then.. dream house?? security for once in my life?? stability?? :0#Though the $1mil is enticing it's also like.. I feel .. with the way housing prices are now... that's not much???#it's a lot I guess if you plan on like.. investing half the money and staying in an apartment for 5 years while you grow your wealth#or something. but if you're a 'I Need Stability NOW' ready to settle down person who would be most interested in owning a property rather#than nice clothes or a car or whatever other investments you could make then.. eh..?? It seems like unless you're okay with living in#a small town or kind of far away from the city - even some SMALL houses in majorly populated areas in the US will be like#$600.000 - $900.000 or something. like that would be MOST of my money. Which I know you could just pay partially and make#payments on it but idk.. in the option of just outright owning the house it seems like it'd end up being cheaper.#Plus I would want to own it fully asap because I'd be afraid of losing it somehow otherwise. like it being taken for medical bills or#something. which I thought was supposed to be - not IMPOSSIBLE - slightly more complicated legally if you actually have#paid off the house in full. I guess the issue then would be utilities and property tax and such. But I feel like thats overcome-able??#Like I could just stipulate that my Dream House has a little furnished addition or something and then find someone#with money and be like 'Look you can live in this extremely nice area with amazing ameneties and updated everything and ALL you have#to do is give me money to cover the utilities and property tax.'' or something like that. Like the little furnished addition is nicer#than the actual house. they have their own pool and spa and movie room or something and Ill also cook all their meals for them#or whatever (how luxurious it would be depeneds on how high the property tax actually is/how much I would need to entice them into#why it's a good deal for them to pay it for me lol). idk... something like that.. ANYWAY#I asked a few people I know though and one of them answered they'd rather have a romantic partner. the other one said they'd like#to be able to choose someone to die lol.. So I'm curious what people value the most
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Finally now that the comic is fully public on comicfury, I get to share it with all of you here, too <3
If you enjoyed, please consider supporting by buying a PDF of the comic on itch.io: https://tawnysoup.itch.io/home-in-the-woods
#I'd rather not clutter the caption so I'll ramble a little in the tags#HitW is short but special to me as it represents and encapsulates some hard life experiences I was going through at the time of its creatio#Ofc in a more metaphorical manner! but. I have been very much enjoying reading people's comments and speculation as its been posting#the interpretations are so meaningful and varied and i love that and really want to encourage anyone to reflect on what it means to them#for me making this comic was a way to process and move past trauma. i feel like it ends anti-climactically but i wanted to be true to#where i thought things were actually going in my life moreso than to veer towards impact. ultimately im glad i managed to finish it#and for it to finish going public right before the new year? maybe i can see this as shedding that old pain in time to become something new#so thank you for reading for supporting and for still being here. lets wake up to 2025 with wind in our sails#Home in the Woods#my art#my comics#original comic#cw guns#cw blood#cw body horror
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Mel Medarda
#here's something for my fellow mel lovers#she is everything to me#you're all invited to our wedding#be on time#thank you#anyways#I genuinely love her so much#mel medarda#mel arcane#mel fanart#arcane fanart#arcane illustration#my art#fanart#illustration#digital art
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reposting old art saga continues: something something no war au?? politically relevant lifechanging field trip?? that inevitably turned in my Let Yue Say Fuck agenda
#also zuko manspreading agenda hdfjghd#they woooulddd learn from each other i believeee let me believeee#anyway ugh tumblr ate my original funny tags so pretend i said something witty here#im tiredt#also oh this is and will always be do you take this jerk to be your one and only propaganda#behind the scenes. if you will.#atla#zuko#yue#my art#id in alt text
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this post is fearmongering. the results of this study are concerning and should definitely be a matter of public discussion, but this is certainly not the conclusion the researchers came to.
the point of the study was to assess the risks of exposure to toxic metals- something one of the co-authors notes are “ubiquitous” fwiw- via menstrual products. Their research confirmed that these metals are indeed present in tampons, but no further conclusions are drawn. it is possible the metal entered into the cotton from the soil, which is a well-known phenomenon; cotton is so good at lifting heavy metals that it has actually been suggested as a part of the solution for revitalizing polluted ground.
the authors conclude with an acknowledgement that the study should be repeated- their sample size was 60 tampons- and a suggestion that further testing ought to be done to indicate whether or not these metals can even leech out of the tampon in the first place, let alone whether or not such leeching could occur at levels deleterious to human health.
there is, in fact, a body of research- too small, for sure, but much larger than this single study- indicating that long-term proper tampon use has no observable negative impact on health. i am grateful and thrilled that more research is being done and i hope that this study is the first of many on this line of questioning, but i am really frustrated at this post and the response it got.
obviously, if this study alters your approach to menstrual health, more power to you. consumers should be informed-risk-takers, and menstrual health is double-obviously a very personal choice. but it definitely wasn't the researchers concluding that you ought to “avoid using tampons at all cost," only this tumblr user did. the lead author of the paper, in fact, specifically says that she hopes people do NOT panic about the results.
(the notes of the post were disappointing. people affirming that they knew they were right to be suspicious of tampons all along, or even recommending alternatives that actually have very little to no research regarding the safety of long-term use, etc. it’s a different conversation, but categorical distrust of tampons is old-school misogyny. you certainly shouldn't wear them if you don’t want to, but there is nothing inherently scary or wrong about them, and people who prefer them are not being reckless or crass.)
((if you're really worried about exposure to heavy metals, you may want to turn a critical eye to fast fashion, as an aside))
#couldn’t reply to the original#so. sorry for the screenshot lol. but i can't put my two cents there. and this topic bugs me (grew up in anti-tampon country)#(Utah)#i do not blindly believe that tampon brands are looking out for us or anything. i hope that comes across here.#anyway. it's something to keep an eye out for more research. i hope this team is able to continue their work
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𝗑, 𝗑, 𝗑, 𝗑
#cottagecore#interior inspo#some of these feel kinda AI ….#ugh AI is really taking over !!#oh well#lots of other good things here#but I’m having a full panikk attack over something else so why am I writing on here
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Dog Meshi.
#dungeon meshi#falin touden#marcille donato#laios touden#The foreshadowing of the laios's barking is so funny. It isn't even just Marcille's flashback. It's everywhere.#It's the love of dogs. How he intimidates the basilisk. General fascination with creatures and their behaviours.#This is a man who is would not be a furry per say but would own a fursuit for the fascination of the craft.#Laios is the guy in the forums rating people's hybrid fursonas for nothing but the love of creatures.#Dog Laios would use his powers to go into dog-free restaurants.#That human impression is so good. One might say 'Woah who's that confident hairy guy? Alright boss; in you go.'#He would be the no.1 customer of a New York Deli that has no legal business license but makes the best sandwiches in the city.#“Would Senshi run it?” I think he would also be a dog in this theoretical AU. Which...makes the scene even funnier actually.#A comic in which everyone is dogs was never something I thought I'd make but here we are!#Marcille is a borzoi (elf of dogs). Tolden siblings are golden lab-retrievers.#Senshi is a scottish terrier. Chilchuck is harder; I need to think on that one. Another terrier perhaps.#Happy Thistle Thursday once again. I hope this comic makes someone laugh half as much as I did while drawing it.
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love when ppl defend the aggressive monetization of the internet with "what, do you just expect it to be free and them not make a profit???" like. yeah that would be really nice actually i would love that:)! thanks for asking
#yes i want things to be free like ??? that is not a weird desire#'but but it costs money to keep up' ok and? how is that my problem#the government has plenty of murder dollars they could reallocate a few to make internet services universal if they wanted#also these companies were perfectly capable of supporting themselves before the internet got drowned with ads so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯#edit: muting notifs on this post bc new additions have kind of petered out#so no one feel bad about adding something someone else has said‚ it is not bothering me im just trying to keep my#notifs page cleanish lol#also since i saw some people are being redirected to read my tags: firstly hiiiiii this is a special secret message for you:3#secondly i have learned since making this that the reason they were able to support themselves previously was because#of investors bankrolling everything#and theyre now finally realizing that theyre never going to actually make a profit and arent as willing to invest#however thats just a minor correction and doesnt change my overall point#once again. so many murder dollars#so thats why im just adding it here in the tags rather than making an actual correction#anyways . love yall 💕#origibberish#bigger gibbers
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Not telling y'all that you should be able to identify AI slop (but it is a valuable skill, you totes should), but if you're to be accusing artists of being AI left and right at least go and do your homework, or at least do the bare minimum and use AI identification tools like Hive Moderation, so you 1- don't ruin someone's lifehood 2- don't make a clown out of yourself maybe
Like, i get it, AI slop and "AI artists" pretending to be genuine is getting harder and harder to identify, but just accusing someone out of the blue and calling it a day doesn't make it any better.
The AI clowns shifted to styles that have less "tells" and the AI arts are becoming better. Yeah, it sucks ass.
They're also integrating them with memes, so you chuckle and share, like those knights with pink backgrounds, some cool frog and a funny one liner, so you get used to their aesthetic.
This is an art from the new coming set Final Fantasy for MtG. This is someone on Reddit accusing someone of using AI. From what i can tell, and i fucking hate AI, there is NO AI used on this image.
As far as i can tell and as far as any tool i've used, the Artist didn't use AI. which leads to the next one:
they accused the artist of this one of using Ai. the name of this artist is Nestor Ossandon.
He as already been FALSELY ACCUSED of using AI, because he drew a HAND THAT LOOKED A LITTLE WEIRD, which caused a statement from D&D Beyond, confirming that no AI has been used.
Not to repeat mysef, they're accusing the art above, that is by Nestor, to have used Ai.
REAL artists are not machines. And just like the AI slop, we are not perfect and we make mistakes. The hands we draw have wonky fingers sometimes. The folds we draw are weird. But we are REAL. We are real people. And hey, some of our "mistakes" sometimes are CHOICES. Artistic choices are a thing yo.
If you're to accuse someone of using Ai, i know it's getting hard to identify. But come on. At least do your due diligence.
#no#i will not “tag” the Ai artists of the catsune miku and the cat cux for all i care AI artists can go to hell and burn#but like#there are many of them#and when you figure out how to spot ai and how the AI generate the images#please trust me on this one#it gets super easy to ident like 80% of most of it#the catsune miku is the HARDEST to ident so far#because it did something out of the ordinary#but otherwise the others have very easy tells#they're trying to mimic styles like watercolors and acrylic#that have blurred edges#and impressionism#that have undefined shapes#so theyr “mistakes” pass as intention#but that's besides the point#what i want here is people to just think a little but before randomly accuse people#cuz it's really getting out of had#and god i do love seeing an AI artist getting their wig yanked out of their fucking scalp for pretending to be a human#but y'all need to know when to do it#some of you don't know how to behave and it shows man
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above all else a trans woman is a person. above all else a trans women is a woman who goes to the same grocery store as you and buys fruits in the same grocery cart as you and goes home and eats her dinner the same as you. above all else a trans woman is a woman who dresses like you do and talks the same way you do. above all else a trans woman is a woman who wants to be cared about the same way you want to be cared about and a trans woman is a woman who makes friends the same way you make friends. above all else you should care about trans women because they are people. treat her as such.
#pig originals#im so fucking tired. right now. let me know if something here doesnt make sense or whatever but god damn#its always the fucking singling out of transfem people i just. want everyone to have a normal life#i want everyone to have the chance to worry over their clothes or whatnot not whether. they're going to be respected as Actual Human Beings#i want us all to have the opportunity to live quiet happy lives forever#can we fucking do it!!!!! ahh!! ahh im going to explode
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