you can't understand why so many people like this thing (characterization, trope, headcanon, etc)
Thank you lovely, from the Fandom Violence asks here! I have technically answered this one already but I always have more.
16. You can't understand why so many people like this thing (characterisation, trope, headcanon, etc)
Sigh. Well, I put Theron in teensy writing behind a slash on my last answer so I suppose I can expand on that. Theron takes the fandom's usual love for the chosen male love interest and turns it up to eleven. You'd think he was the only male LI in the entirety of swtor, the way people act about him. I personally don't find his workaholic, "cutesy I'm bad at relationships tee hee because of my mommy issues" persona to be endearing!! Maybe it's because I'm older now, but I'm supposed to be enamoured with a man in his forties who doesn't like commitment stuff because he's got childhood trauma? Bitch we all have childhood trauma, this is star wars, get in line. I don't like that criticism of him is deflected because "he's PoC!!!" okay then why do you all draw him white as hell if his dad is pacifika and his mum is korean? Do we extend that same level of interest and sense of compassion to Andronikos, or maybe Felix????
I feel like he's gotten a little better writing (???) in the last few expacs but I stopped playing in 2020 in April when another player emoted spitting on me (early days of the pandemic!!!) and I went you know what, I'm just not having fun anymore. And then someone stole my Imp side guild with fully furnished stronghold and half unlocked guild ship so. Fuck that
This got derailed a bit uhhhh so. I get a tic when I see a Lavellan with white hair and purple eyes. I see 9 Carvers for every 1 Bethany and I hate it. I hate Grey Warden fate for Bethany. I fail the queer test because I don't understand the appeal of tieflings that apparently all queers love (the horns and the spikes beneath the skin in the BG3 design are like, the closest I've ever come to understanding trypophobia, not saying that's the right word for it and not saying I have it, but that's the closest sort of thing I can find to express it). That should cover me right?
oh man talking about 'bad choices that don't make sense' swtor was good for that on the imperial side as a lot of the choices were like 'you can make a sensible adult choice that would make sense as a stragetic choice during a war' and the dark side option would be something really like 'muhahahah teh evilz edgelord' that just didn't make any logical sense but then as we know bioware is not great at actually doing grey morality
oh SO TRUE gfdsgsd that's definitely an example of like, even me playing a character who was meant to be self-serving and amoral, a lot of times I couldn't rationalize the "dark side" choices because they were just... silly?? Like you cannot expect me to believe the Sith Empire is this galaxy-spanning unshakable powerhouse when they've got people running around just murdering and blowing things up at the expense of literally any ounce of actual military strategy.
On the other hand, my favorite mmo experience was definitely playing swtor with Vartan and having the moments where we were split on how to resolve a Moral Choice and had to leave it up to a dice roll, which inevitably always ended up with one of us being like "noooo 😭" while the other did something extremely normal or comically evil.
after a solid month of writer's block I finished a thing! Thank you for the prompt and apologizes for how long it took me 💜
from the sensory prompts list
entr'acte
fandom: twc
pairing: Nat Sewell/f!detective (Emma Langford)
rating: T some discussion/reference to mortality
words: 1k
read on ao3
It is a beautiful day, almost perfect. The early spring sun is warm, but gentle, falling on Nat’s skin and painting the inside of her eyelids in warm orange as she tilts her face towards it. The others may avoid the sun, disliking the weakening affect it has on their kind, but she has no such qualms. It easier to feel something closer to human with the sun on her skin, weakening her, yes, but also softening. Softening the supernatural senses and awareness that she can never quite escape. After three centuries her memories have grown hazy, have lost some of their vibrancy, but sitting here bathing in the warm rays it almost feels like humanity.
There is a light breeze carrying the sounds of the nearby park to the secluded hillside she’d chosen for their picnic. The soft lapping of the lake against the shore is overpowered by the joyful screams of children. It brings a smile to her face listening to them go about their games.
She runs her fingers through Emma’s copper curls. Careful, not wanting to disturb her, not when she looks so peaceful. Shadows dance over her features as the breeze rustles the leaves of the oak tree they are sitting under. Painting her beloved features in alternating patterns of light and shadow, and Nat sits transfixed committing this fleeting moment to memory. Trying to memorize the patterns of her freckles: the larger almost heart shaped one perfectly positioned on her right cheek, the duo at the corner of her lips, and the almost imperceptible dusting along the edge of her hairline.
She could spend the whole afternoon here, with Emma’s head resting in her lap, listening to her quiet breathing. Perhaps this nap will help with the dark circles marring the pale skin under her eyes, with the exhaustion so clearly written on her face.
Emma shifts, stirring towards wakefulness as a gentle groan escapes from her lips. Her eyelashes flutter against her cheeks for a moment before her eyes slowly blink open. The bright green of her eyes so like the newly sprouted grass of the hillside. Bright, beautiful, and so bursting with life, with possibilities. Confusion clouds them for a moment, but they brighten as their gaze falls on Nat, a soft smile dawning across Emma’s face as she sits up. Nat mourns the loss, but only for a moment as Emma nestles her head into her neck, leaning into her, relaxing and letting Nat support her weight.
“I’m sorry,” she murmurs her voice muffled against Nat’s shoulder. “You planned this lovely day and then I just went and fell asleep.”
“There’s nothing to be sorry for, dearest.” Nat replies as she presses a kiss to the top of Emma’s head. She loses herself for a moment in the familiar scent of Emma, the soft florals of her perfume that rivals the scent of the wildflowers dotting the hillside in vibrant patches of white and pink, and underneath that, the warmer scent of her skin, the siren’s call of her blood. Not a temptation, not anymore, but rather a reminder, of how precious and rare she is, how lucky Nat is to have her in her arms.
“I’m glad you were able to get some rest. Besides, any time spent with you is precious to me.”
“Even if I’m snoring?”
“You weren’t snoring, I promise.” Nat replies with a laugh.
Emma pulls back, a hand raising to brush the sleep from her eyes, and Nat resists the urge to capture it with her own. To bring the hand to her lips and press kisses into each of the fingers, to the palm of her hand, to the delicate skin of her inner wrist, to draw a soft gasp from her lips, to lose herself in her reactions. There will be time for that.
“What were you humming before I fell asleep?” Emma’s question pulls Nat back to the present. “It sounded familiar.”
“It was from Carmen. One of the lines made me think of you.”
“Isn’t that a tragedy?” Emma asks a crease furrowing her brow.
“Many operas are.” Nat responds.
The crease deepens, Emma’s eyes dropping down, looking away, and Nat has learned to read that expression well. The fear and uncertainty which tenses Emma’s body as she asks, “and that made you think of me?”
They’ve avoided that discussion. Nat has avoided that discussion, but one day soon it’s one they will have to have, but she can’t bring herself to think of it now. Not on a day as beautiful as this, not when she feels so close to human.
She reaches out to cup Emma’s full cheek in her hand. The crease evaporates at the touch of her hand, and a soft smile paints Nat’s lips at the sight. “Not that part,” she soothes, “Even in tragedies there is beauty. Something to be valued. To be treasured.”
She begins to recite the lyrics, the French smooth and fluid from her practiced tongue, “Qu'à jeter un regard sur moi, Pour t'emparer de tout mon être.”
A look of confusion passes over Emma’s face, “I don’t know what the means. I took German.”
“I remember mein liebling.”
Emma’s heartbeat accelerates at the endearment, shifting into one of Nat’s favorite rhythms. The one her own heart matches whenever Emma enters the room.
“Will you translate it for me?”
“Of course,” Nat replies as she recites the words in English this time, “'only to toss a glance towards me, in order to take a hold of all my being.'”
“Oh, that is very—oh” Emma stammers, and Nat saves her from having to respond by capturing her lips in a soft kiss.
“I’ve never been to the opera,” Emma confesses when the kiss breaks.
“I’d love to take you.” They could make a day of it. Maybe stay overnight in the city and take in a museum before driving back to the Wayhaven. “We can see a comedy if you’d prefer.”
“I wouldn’t mind a tragedy,” Emma says quietly, her hand reaching out to intertwine her fingers with Nat’s, “as long as I’m with you.”
tag list (let me know if you would like to be added/removed): @lilyoffandoms @lord-king-saint @roses-and-roux @agentnatesewell
OKAY SO. This AU sprung from a single, vivid image that just would NOT leave my brain until I made a context for it.
You know the scene at the end of tangled? Where Eugene cuts Rapunzel's hair, and it's very dramatic?
[ID: A gif of two animated characters, Eugene and Rapunzel from Disney's Tangled. Eugene, who has a chain around his wrist, cuts Rapunzel's blond hair with a shard of mirror. She looks at him with a shocked expression as her hair turns brown.]
Picture that scene, but it's Jon as Rapunzel, and Martin severing his connection to the eye. Elias serves as Mother Gothel and the plot is *roughly* the same as the movie, with the caveat that Elias *wants* Jon to escape the tower in order to be marked by the fears. It's still cosmic horror: severing the eye's connection to Jon like that releases the fears out into other worlds; the only difference being maybe, just maybe Jon and Martin might be able to survive in this one.
WTGFs run The Snuggly Duckling, and the archive crew mostly hang out there. The fears are still not common knowledge, in this scenario. Also, instead of
the castle being a safe, comforting place, I've decided the kingdom is being run by the Web.
Basira plays Maximus. I'm not sure if she's going to still be a literal horse or not, to be quite honest. But Daisy is the police officer / captain / whatever that Basira works with.
I also wrote out - you know the song? Flower gleam and glow, let your power shine, make the clock reverse, being back what once was mine - a version of that, changing it only slightly to make it Eye themed. I'm actually quite proud of it, I'll have to find where I wrote it. (That's where the title comes from! Watcher Gleam and Glow.)
I'm not saying this is an elaborate excuse to write Jon as a Disney princess, but it kind of is.
Do you ever find like certain insults people try to use against queer people are actually things that end up sound cute or funny? Like trying to call people Queerios as an insult sorry but that sounds really kind of funny and I want to call myself that.
How did coming out to family members go for Fiama and Jonny?
Fiama didn't actually sit them down and came out of the closet, she just kept making comments until both of her parents and her little sister caught up with her sexual orientation. Her little sister is mostly like "Ugh, shut up. I don't care about that" ("that" being the entirety of Fiama's sexual life). Her dad is more like the match-maker type of parent, telling Fiama stuff like, "What about the mailwoman? She's cute, she has a dog, and she likes children." Her mom doesn't really have an opinion about the matter. In fact, she doesn't really have an opinion about anything Fiama does, unless she feels it's hurting Bruno.
I can see Jonny coming out one night while the family is having dinner. Like his posture is all fucked-up and his mom's like, "You'll never find a girlfriend with that posture." And he's like, "Then I'll date guys." And that's how Jonny comes out, out of spite and because he can't keep his mouth shut.
Quino is the one that actually asks him about his love life. Jonny's dad asks sometimes (like when he thought Jonny was dating Roach). His mom and his little brother don't ask him about it. And his sister couldn't care less about anything going on in his life.
Oh, I already answered that one! So I’ll just pick another instead, hope you don’t mind. :)
😊 a piece i’m really proud of and why
This:
This just turned out exactly the way I wanted and I’m just really happy I could get it out of my head! Kind of translucent, blending into each other, a bit otherworldly. The Rat King owns my whole heart, so there’s that, too.
For every 🌸 I’ll give you a fluffy fact about my OTP and for every 🔥 I’ll give a spicy fact about my OTP
🌸 - Jacob gets Queenie flowers on a pretty much weekly basis and about 90% it’s just a small bouquet of lavender because they’re Queenie’s favorite. (This distressed Evie to no end because lavender means distrust in flower-language but Jacob could not be persuaded otherwise.)
Spicy under cut
🔥 - They did the do on the Rook train exactly once but neither of them were exactly comfortable what with there being doors on either end of the room and the constant presence of others. Jacob attempted to initiate a couple more times and was quickly shot down.
