#i’ve never drawn that kind of face before lol i’m so giddy about it!

[windlullaby-arts]

Professor Sukuna AU ☕️📚

Somebody loosely mentioned Professor Sukuna in one of my earlier post last year and i tried and failed to realize him but then @satkuna wrote THIS spicy Professor Sukuna fic (DO READ IT!! There’s two parts of it and both are reaaally good!) and made me yearning for him again.

Might fully render these two separately in the near future 👀

[selfcarecap]

How about a fic like the one u did with Peter Parker not being comfortable with sex but it’s the other way around where reader doesn’t feel like sex but maybe she thinks she has to bc she’s bad at saying no? (I personally hv this problem and I hate it lol)

You read the request, don‘t read this blurb if that type of theme makes you uncomfortable <3 and i‘ll tell you the reader is INSISTENT on making Peter happy, even if she doesn‘t really want to have sex (they don‘t have sex of course, but reader tries to convince herself that she wants to even tho she doesn‘t. you have been warned) (the reader knows she doesn‘t have to but thinks it‘s better to go with it to make peter happy) okay but also re-reading your request right now... i‘m not sure if i wrote what you had in mind lol, also I made it first time cause... that's the common thing on here (my blog) lmao

It’s not the first time that you’re making out with Peter. It’s also not the first time that it’s getting a bit heated.

Now’s your time to stop before it gets too heated.

But it feels good. You’re not really thinking about what’s going to happen next. You’re not thinking anything is going to happen next, except for you to continue kissing.

But suddenly Peter’s hands are under your shirt, travelling up your sides. “You know, I’ve been thinking,” he says, pulling away from your lips to kiss your neck, “We could take this a step further.”

His voice is shaky when he says it, and in his eyes you see he’s unsure, he’s nervous. How could you say no to him when he looks so adorable?

You gulp and then you nod, trying not to look at him.

“Can you say it for me?” He requests, lightly kissing your chest over your shirt.

“S-say what?”

“That you want this as much as I do,” and once the words leave his mouth he looks up at you, a cute smile on his face.

“O-of course I do, yeah,” you force a smile to your lips to mirror Peter and before he can possibly detect that your smile is fake, he’s kissing your lips.

You grip his hair, pulling him towards you so he can’t pull away from the kiss and you’d have to open your eyes again. If he looked into them he’d easily be able to tell how you really feel.

It’s just sex, you tell yourself. It’s not a big deal. It’ll feel good, you’re sure. Peter is so eager and giddy, you’ll take a little discomfort to see him keep that happiness.

But as Peter sits up to take off his shirt, a feeling of dread settles low in your belly. It’s not that you don’t like seeing him shirtless, but it’s the awareness of what’s going to happen next that scares you.

“Uh I—,” you say louder than you intend, sitting up. You clear your throat and Peter looks at you, holding his bunched up shirt to his chest.

“Yeah?” He asks, eyes big and round and full of concern. That’s exactly what you didn’t want.

“Um, sorry, nothing. I was.. just wondering if you have condoms.”

You’re not looking at him, but maybe that gives away how you’re feeling even more.

“H-hey, what’s wrong? We don’t have to do this, you know?” He sits down right in front of you and he says it with so much love and care that your heart hurts.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper before tears sting in your eyes and your face scrunches up as you try to contain a sob.

Peter’s arms wrap around you immediately, his hands stroking up and down your back, “What are you sorry for? Everything’s okay.”

You calm down after a few moments, and with a lump still in your throat you explain. “Sorry, I’ll be ready in a second. You can get the condoms already.”

“Why would I get condoms?” Peter asks, eyebrows drawn together.

“To have sex... duh,” you smile but it doesn’t reach your eyes. You playfully poke Peter in the chest but he takes your hand in his and looks right into your eyes.

“Do you want to have sex?” He asks.

You look away, “Not... not right now, but um...”

“Then why would we have sex?” Peter asks again, eyes kind and understanding.

You shrug, wiping your tears, “Well. Well, you wanted to and—”

“And you didn’t. It takes two to tango—” you giggle when he says it so seriously and he smiles too, but keeps talking, “I mean it. Would you want to have sex with me if I didn’t want to?”

“Of course not,” you reply.

“And I don’t want to have sex with you if you’re not in the mood either. So please, I won’t be offended or mad or anything other than glad that you told me how you really feel. And I’m sorry I didn’t notice that you didn’t want to earlier.”

You press a kiss to his cheek and shrug, “I was trying to convince myself that I wanted to. How could you know how I was feeling when I was lying to myself? I promise I’ll tell you how I really feel from now on... And you really aren’t mad? I could see how happy you were at the thought of having s—“

“I could never be mad. Sex isn’t something you just.. put up with and endure. People have sex to enjoy themselves. And if both of us wouldn’t be enjoying it, I don’t want to do it.”

You smile, feeling something shift inside you. You’ll remember him saying this for a long time, and you hope you’ll never feel the need to lie to yourself about what you want in order to make someone else happy again; someone else who, turns out, wouldn‘t even want to do this if his feelings aren’t truly reciprocated.

Peter pecks your lips and wraps his arms around you once more, resting his cheek on your shoulder. You feel yourself letting out a deep breath of relief.

You hug for a few minutes, not letting each other go.

“How about we watch a film,” Peter suggests, slipping back into his shirt after you pull away.

“Or we could just... make out again?” You say, pursing your lips.

“Or we could make out again,” he grins, lying down next to you to kiss you some more.

[coinofstone]

2x13 The Last Dragonlord

I really appreciate that this picks up 2 days into the dragon's scourge. We were shown that Merlin knew what would happen if he set Khilgarrah free; he chose to do it anyway. There was no reason to pick up ten minutes later when everyone is scrambling trying to get a defense together while Uther demands to know how he got free. The little time jump that puts us right into the thick of it was exactly the right creative call imo.

Why IS the dragon going after Arthur? And how does nobody hear him yelling at Merlin about his magic?

Arthur taking off his gloves and sitting down in a pained relief while Uther goes off about 'rid ourselves of this aberration' is a mood. He's fighting off a damn dragon all night and then doing admin all morning while his dad is there all fresh and clean and conveniently ignoring the fact that it's HIS pet that's got out and is murdering people and destroying the castle. Like how about you do whatever you did to capture it in the first place, again?

Lol @ Gaius 'Bee tee dubs I've known who your pops is this whole time, he's not only alive but also a Dragonlord, which isn't something I thought fit to you tell you in all that time you were having campfire chats with the great dragon Uther's kept chained up in the basement for twenty years! Safe journey!'

Wtf with Arthur's magical moving bed. What were they thinking with that staging. Also, this is why you don't throw pillows at ppl. He throws his pillow at Merlin and now he must lay there pillowless.

Merlin's known his dad for five minutes and he's already lying to him about his boyfriend.

Balinor said, 'let Uther die, let Camelot fall' and Merlin is like, disappointed? But wtf did he expect? Dude lives in a cave cuz Uther's pursued him so far in an attempt to rid the world of Dragonlords. Like why would his indifference shock you?

Arthur's just blatantly flirting with Merlin in that campfire scene.

Merlin wins the award for 'most awkward and drawn out familial confession ever'

I do feel for Merlin. He's so awkward and hopeful and clearly romanticizing the perceived 'missing piece' in his life/upbringing, as tho it were a magic fix for everything that's ever gone wrong in his life. It's painful to watch, partly because Colin plays it so well.

Arthur and Merlin were gone for at least as long as the dragon had been attacking Camelot when they left. At the point when they retuned Camelot would've been under attack for the better part of a week. Kind of shocked Uther didn't have a bunch of knights turn deserters, thinking Arthur's been sent away to preserve the royal lineage.

Arthur's just blatantly flirting again. It's hard not to think he's being so free with his affection because he's fairly goddamn certain they're both going to die. I guess the argument could be made that facing a dragon who is literally burning your castle down around you might've just put things in perspective for Arthur - but really, I doubt it. They're heading back to a Camelot that's been under siege by an unkillable, fire- breathing, flying beast, for days, after having left the only man on earth who could've saved them, who refused to assist them. And Arthur is sitting there downright giddy teasing Merlin. That, my friends, is the *true* face of defeat. The further example is when Arthur is suiting up to go try and fight the dragon in a clearing outside the castle, and he's like, sort of trying to say goodbye to Merlin but also kind of flirting and playing up their usual banter - it's gallows humor, clearly. And the way he melts and doesn't even put up a token objection when Merlin says he's going with him. JUST MAKE OUT ALREADY but it's very much like that absurdist - I don't want to say nihilism, but essentially, acceptance that the odds are overwhelmingly NOT in their favor, and that they're probably going to die and nothing can be done to save them or Camelot. Once you reach that point, you've really only got two options: a) die mad b) live. Arthur really seems to be taking the latter approach, and I'm here for it.

Gotta admit, it was very courteous of Kilgharrah to come meet the knights in that clearing instead of just flying over them to take another pass at destroying the castle with Uther inside it.

That dragon said 'tonight, I'm have bbq knight'. Also I've always kinda given them shit because Leon supposedly went out with them for this, and all the knights lined up to get flambéd yet Leon is ever present in following seasons - but if you actually watch carefully it's Arthur, Merlin, and another knight that get knocked off their horses by the dragon's tail. I may or may not have rewound that part half a dozen times just now to be sure. Looks like two knights on the ground unconscious by Arthur's side.

So. Okay. I understand finding his dragon voice and I understand the whole inherent- language thing, I understand Merlin showing the dragon mercy and letting him go, I understand everything said between them and that's all fine. What I don't understand is how in the holy hell Merlin let him go without demanding answers. Answers to why he wanted to destroy all of Camelot, when he'd spent the last however many years helping Merlin save it, and save Arthur, in order to bring about their destiny. Answers to why he didn't just fucking kill Uther, why attack the lower town? Why attack Arthur who again, he'd repeatedly helped Merlin save, because he's supposed to bring peace and magic to Albion etc? Like HOW IN THE FUCK are you really just gonna let the fucker fly off without explaining himself? Maybe it's just me.

HC: Arthur was so relieved and elated when Merlin told him he'd dealt the dragon a mortal blow, Merlin came over to help him up off the ground but Arthur pulled him down and rolled him over in the grass instead.

Uther watching from the window like a maiden in a tower 🤦‍♀️ get fuuuuuuucked

Big season finale and no commentary track? 😕 probably cuz it was too gay to ignore the gay so they thought it best to just not say anything.

DVD extras in lieu of commentary track:

My favourite part of any of these BTS things are the little tidbits about the horses. And the terrible jokes.

I'm a little bit freaked out by how much Johnny Capps looks like my city councilman? I've never seen him before. If he was in the first season's extras I didn't notice him.

Why is "Cast and crew introduction to S2" on the last disc of the box set?

Googling instead of watching and I've discovered these guys did Atlantis after Merlin, which is a show I randomly started watching and fell in love with and was devastated when it got canceled so quickly.

The "secrets and magic" special feature seems to be an episode-by-episode BTS thing, which I wish I had known earlier as I would've just gone back and forth to watch the feature after the corresponding episode. Since it's too late for that now, and the runtime for the entire feature is nearly three goddamn hours, I'm just going to slog through one single separate post for the entire thing. It'll be posted late tonight or tomorrow. But I'm 1000000% checking the S3 extras BEFORE I start watching the season.

[pommedelamer]

in my heart, you’re sitting cross-legged on my bedroom floor

(basically a prosaic yet impassioned lament on childhood and sisterhood that’s oddly specific to me lol)

In those moments when I remember I was not sprung into this world just under six feet with a bookbag pressed to my spine, I always end up in that backyard. The long rows of jagged rocks carved out the grass that glowed navy blue in the moonlight into little islands upon which our limbs thrashed playfully in the night, our outstretched arms unencumbered by the pressing weight of self-image that would come to inhabit itself in us in the coming years. But through the frayed mesh of the trampoline net, even the tomorrows were light years away. Smoke was perpetually ascending from the black grill near the far fence, the remnants of the night’s cookout. 

Your backyard at night was a universe of its own, grass taking on its own aroma beneath the dimming sky, air veiled in the euphoria of being alive and being alive with a best friend. It was a realm unlike any fantasy landscape tucked inside my favorite picture books, because, for all its allure and mysticism, it was real. Our days were cast in paper mache and clouded with sidewalk chalk dust, marinating in thick smoke underneath the protective arms of dozens of towering oak trees. 

When the glow of your room light teeters on your windowsill and spills onto my driveway late at night (I know you’ve always liked it on, I never got much sleep in your room after all), I wonder if you remember the way you gingerly pressed both your palms to my back, that night on the trampoline together when I became acquainted with the trials and tribulations of the back handspring. I never had much athletic prowess, and you knew it. But the way you floated through time and space on those mornings and evenings made me want to float with you, giddy and weightless, suspended in the years of Dairy Queen and swiveling living room chairs and dance routines we choreographed for our parents (we would always insist that they saw every movement, whirling and panting until your mother exchanged a look with mine that we both couldn’t understand and said that we should be getting home, but we’ll being seeing you very soon and we whined and cried but the promise of a day with one another was enough to quell the sticky partings on our cheeks). 

Even now, my footsteps send resounding echoes down our street that whisper of our door-to-door stage makeup business (short-lived and admittedly hasty in its execution, but full of potential to the eleven year old mind), of our August afternoons spent in your kitchen, raiding your cabinets to satisfy our voracious preteen appetites as we chattered on about our first days of school, stuttering through our words that could not possibly align themselves with the speed of the whimsical, giddy prose brewing in our heads. I anticipated the arrival of the cherry-red car in your driveway every afternoon with the attentiveness of a sprinter to a starting gun. Clad in boxy shorts and garish graphic tees, we scrambled to each other’s doorsteps, brimming with lunchtime anecdotes and the newest romantic endeavors of the students of the Dunning and Potter Road Elementary Schools. We set out on afternoon bike rides like intrepid adventurers up Everest and our eyes were dazzled with the prospect of riding the same bus, of yet another home together outside the blissful confines of our street.

And when the school year tapered off into summer, we went with it. The elegant pears and supple oranges in the fruit bowl by my kitchen window became yours, and your little brother’s fleshy hands and the grand piano in your living room became mine (I used to plant my fingers on the keys like they belonged to me). We wiggled our fingers and toes in the metallic haziness of the same vast sunsets, turned cartwheels into the night, and returned to our respective doorsteps barefoot and coated in a plethora of bruises and assuaging films of perspiration. In the winter months, we bundled ourselves in pesky snow pants and bound our necks in thick fleece scarves and exhaled our favorite songs into the frigid air atop your roof. We invented our own language (which bore a suspicious resemblance to pig latin) and curled up on my bedroom floor, our cheeks pressed to the carpet as we spoke of first kisses and first periods and who, between us, would be the first to navigate the tumultuous waters of each (predictions that we scrawled into the pages of my purple lock-bound journal that had really come to be ours, your wide-set handwriting mingling with my scraggly lettering in the margins). 

We talked of building tunnels underneath our houses so that when the clock estranged us, the dirt beneath our feet was intertwined. We had the kind of bond that was strong in its subtlety, in the way our days unfolded naturally into nights that revealed themselves under the stars before we could mourn the sun’s loss. In the way we burrowed the balls of our feet into our sneakers and stumbled (silhouetted against the darkening, omnipresent cloak of sky) to my doorstep, sweeping up the unwieldy overnight bag I had not yet unpacked from last time. Then we would swing the front door open again and tear back across your yard, motion sensor lights illuminating the murky way as my parents bade me a distant goodnight through the mesh of my open window. We tiptoed down your hallway, chests heaving as we contained our excitement for the short, creaky stretch so as not to wake your grandmother who slept in the room adjacent to your own. You would arrange your stuffed animals on your bed (Sheepy, the charmingly stout pillow pet, was both of our favorites; I was never allowed to touch him) and we watched our favorite sitcom and devoured your collection of Guinness World Record books until our foreheads ached from all the sensory input and our eyelids pleaded for our bodies to be still. And even then, you chose a sleeping bag over your own bed to accompany me on the floor. 

I can only define our time together as a long stretch of nights spent reveling in the sheer joy of the day and the days ahead as my consciousness tiptoed down the nape of my neck and drowned itself in the folds of my red sleeping bag. I wonder how many nights we spent acquiescing to the allure of sleep like this, basking in the enchanting luminescence of your nightlight and curled up beside your bed, your prowling cats slinking around our limp bodies in the dark on impossibly light feet. 

There were quiet days, and the silences were a part of us too. But one time, a day apart became a weekend, became a season, and when our paths did converge, I was blinded by all the ways you’d changed (I remember seeing you in the driveway that autumn afternoon under the rustling multicolored canopy of leaves, being struck by how tall you looked next to the impressive group of friends you’d drawn into your orbit after our axes spun out of sync). I felt our childhood slowly ebbing away in the quiet landlines and forgotten party invites (or perhaps they just got lost in the abyss between our houses). The pears in my fruit bowl must have gone sour because you no longer desired to taste them. I’ve long since scrubbed off the residue from where your fingers laced with mine in the driveway, but my clothes are still perpetually damp with it. I want to scrutinize your face for signs, but I’m afraid there is no imprint of me at your core in the way there is one of you at mine, legs criss-crossed on my bedroom floor. 

I have no memory of our partings in the same way I have no recollection of our first interactions. One day sixteen years ago you flung your tiny arm across my shoulders and we stumbled through life intertwined, equipped with each other and a single pair of eyes. We never had to ask each other where we came from; we grew up on Friday night concerts on the green, on driveway chalk dust, on linked fingers and takeout in your basement. 

We didn’t have the words for all the intricacies and feelings back then, and I’m now just finding them in my throat, gripping on for dear life, and wringing out all the bittersweet juice I can. It’s an unfamiliar taste, but I think that the saccharine sweetness --embittered by the time it pools in my stomach-- is reminiscent of a thank you. A thank you for letting me know you in a way I’ve never known anyone else, or maybe never will again. I don’t dare think that we’ve run our course; it was all too beautiful to be temporary. 

My arms are sprawled across your cool countertops, I’m standing silhouetted in the moonlight in your yard, I’m leeching off the smoke ascending from the grill like a parasite traveling through time. You’ll never see this but I’ll never stop trying to hold on, even at bay. 

//

a/n: woah that was 1.5k of nostalgic whining (probably with a few grammatical errors in there as well). no one will read this far but if u did,,,,,,,,, thank you so much & I hope you enjoyed!!!!! I know this is specifically tailored to my own life experiences, but I really really hope it still made an impression on readers. hehhh well yea thanks for reading lol 

[vaguely-concerned]

UNCHARTED 4 REACTIONS

- uuuh can I just… find out who the FUCK looked at tiny beautiful baby boy Nate and decided to leave him with a bunch of nuns who don’t get why other kids telling him his mom’s in hell because she committed suicide would upset him??????? Like I don’t know who his biological father is but I feel a strong need to divest him of his kneecaps. (C’mon Sully with your con man expertise and my vengeful nature we could figure this out between us)

- Sam reminds me a lot of one of my uncles. I’m not sure what to do with that except applaud Naughty Dog on their eye for people ha ha. I guess everyone has that slightly sleazy and self absorbed yet periodically charming and decent man in their lives. (Can I point out how amazing his costume design is, in a way you rarely see? He’s one of those dudes who look rumpled wearing pretty much anything, everything is so unflattering on him it’s a miracle. Contrast his and Sully’s outfits in the Scotland section — what they’re actually wearing isn’t that dissimilar and Sully is like twice Sam’s age but looks a) stylish, b) warm and c) Incredibly American somehow while Sam looks like a bum and it’s  h i l a r i o u s.)

- When bb Nate’s face already does the thing where he goes from genuinely upset to dissembling smile… no… ow…  

- “You only pull something like this when you’re trying to make up for something” lasjfdlsakjfslkdjfalskj my soul has left my body and I am crying hot saltwater tears

- a) Nadine is just so incredibly, vibrantly beautiful and I feel like sending a thank you note to the offices of Naughty Dog for putting her face and overarms on my screen, b) she’s already completely done with everything and we’re not even halfway through the game, c) she’s awfully uppity about Chloe’s methods for someone whose instinctual approach to archaeology is ‘dynamite’

- NATE PLAYING CRASH BANDICOOT

THE MOST PRECIOUS SHIT

I’VE EVER LAID MY EYES ON

“THIS IS TAKING VERY LONG” THIS BLESSED ADHD BOY

- OKAY NAUGHTY DOG YOU’VE GONE AND DONE IT I’M ROOTING FOR THE HETS

- the note from Chloe in the attic :( :( :( I feel bad for her even though she eventually upgraded big time on the spouse material, she does like him a lot even if they didn’t make each other very happy.

Can you imagine if Nate and Chloe had actually stayed together tho. They’d have the smartest, snarkiest, most-unprepared-to-deal-with-emotions children in history lol just as well things worked out like they did, probably

- did u guys know… that I would die for nathan drake… I mean you all probably do by now because I never shut up about it but it bears repeating… I would….  

- oh no… nate no… don’t lie to elena she not only tolerates you she loves you despite the warning signs don’t throw this away

- It’s very impressive that they’ve managed to show that Sam genuinely does love Nate a lot while also making it clear how easily he tips into being a toxic influence — it makes all the psychological sense in the world that he’s trying to emulate the relationship they had when they were at their closest and only had each other, but purposefully trying to drive Nate away from the other people who love him is just… so perfectly the worst possible thing to do to him, jeeeeesus christ. No wonder he and Sully don’t get along — Sully is wonderfully protective without being possessive

- When Sam asks Sully why he’s there and it’s like… because… he’s HIS FUCKN DAD SAM???! YOU NUMBSKULL???!!? YOU ABSOLUTE FOOL??!?!

- All my fanfic wants for these games are so lame and low-key… like ‘the first time a teenaged Nate comes back to the hotel drunk as a total emotional mess, and Sully being like ‘oh wow… oh god… help… he’s like a tiny puppy I need to protect him being a parent is terrifying’... ‘Nadine and Chloe have a nice night in and make sweet character developing love, maybe braid each other’s hair and get in a fist fight with some dude’... ‘the gang go to an amusement park, have a good time, Charlie gets cotton candy and makes fun of Nate’...

(actually what I really, really want is a fic of Sully surreptitiously picking up the pieces of Nate after Sam ‘dies’, but, y’know. The heart wants what it wants and mine wants Nate to be taken care of)

- Sully’s face when he drops them off in Scotland… goddamn it he loves that boy so much ;___;

- The only illustration of Sam’s personality that matters is that he thinks  S u l l y  of all people might screw Nate over while thinking he can work with Rafe without it all going to hell

Just… the worst judge of character ever lol how’s that projection working out for you Sammy boy

- I played some multiplayer and Elena really has just the warmest, most reassuring presence, I absolutely see what Nate sees there ha ha

Also I love what they’ve done with her clothes, all her outfits are plausible and non-sexualized and look so chill and comfortable

- Nate’s high-pitched nervous laugh is everything to me, such a deeply endearing character tic

- Sam… you dumbass… when will you learn that the real treasure… is your little brother and his happiness…

- I have to applaud Troy Baker for his work here — he matches Nolan North’s speech patterns and timbre as Nate so well, you absolutely believe they’re brothers. (Also between them they’re like… 90% of all male characters in video games, it’s a wonder the fabric of reality isn’t fraying with two giants in such close proximity)

- Shoutout to my boy Charlie for getting one (1) whole reference in this entire game! Naughty Dog may have forgotten you but the face you pulled at Nathan in the scene with the torches will stay with me forever, you big British lug <3

- I LOVE that Nate and Sam still use ‘Father Duffy’ like you would ‘Goody Two-shoes’ or the ‘dad’ in a sarcastic ‘thanks, dad’, it’s an authentic-feeling kind of in-joke

- Nate’s journal entries are SO FUNNY in this one oh my god. I’m so happy they’re acknowledging that he’s actually an excellent artist, I hope he ends up with a sideline in making illustrated children’s books. (I have since learned they were drawn by Naughty Dog artist Alexandria Neonakis. From the bottom of my heart: thank you for everything, especially Lemur Sully)

- Gideon Emery is wasted — WASTED — in the role of ‘random goon #43’ yet again,  but whatever, at least I got to hear his voice

- Sam’s supremely shitty tattoos give me life

- I realized during the Madagascar opening that in all likelihood the person who taught Nate to drive was Sully and can I just say… this reinforces my theory that Sully is the real hero of the Uncharted games because can you imagine taking on that responsibility for Nathan ‘Adrenaline Junkie Whoops Everything I Touch Explodes and Collapses’ Drake? No, because you and I don’t have what it takes to live that life but Victor Sullivan does

- It feels like they went a bit more naturalistic with the dialogue and characterization in this one? (As naturalistic as you can go with great big undiscovered cathedrals/pirate recruiting hubs under Scotland, anyway. Scotland ain’t that big, yo, pretty sure someone would have spotted it lol) I actually enjoyed it — U3 is still pretty much an Indiana Jones-esque adventure story with some purposefully discordant notes when you get to know Nate’s real backstory and stuff like that, but this feels all round a bit more grounded in reality and characters and it works

- Sully ineffectually keeping a grip on Nate’s shirt while he’s scrabbling to get back into the driver’s seat after the car goes off the cliff ascended my soul to a higher dimension. Big mood.

Also genuinely laughed for five minutes at Sam, lapsed Catholic and born opportunist, getting in as many Hail Marys as he could just in case he was about to die. I’m an atheist from a half-halfheartedly Protestant country but even I am pretty sure that’s not how it works buddy

- Nate’s continual refusal to think ahead enough to carry his own matches (and being saved by surrounding himself with smokers) is one of the most satisfying running jokes in the series

- “Lemurs, Sully!” “Rabies, Nate” fsdajfkljdaskjhasjkhfasjdk

*cries helplessly like a little baby because I love everyone in this bar*

- I must say the clock tower felt like one of Nate’s most catastrophic onsets of… Nateness. That delicate complicated piece of machinery was still functioning perfectly after four hundred years and yet… Nate’s in there for five minutes and it crumbles like paper. I guess technically sinking the entirety of a city into the sand beats it, but… I keep coming back to the image of the cracked bell and then *high pitched giddy voice* “Hi Sully” JFC Nate ha ha

- *screams as Nate sends Sully and Elena away, literally turning to the adrenaline/treasure hunting madness he used to cope with trauma before he managed to work up to emotional intimacy with people who care about him because Sam is a jackass who knew exactly what buttons to press and is weirdly possessive of his little brother*

- You know… forgiving Sam is so hard when he repeatedly doubles down on his lies, making up further details unprovoked, because he knows it keeps Nate hooked and feeling guilty? Like Nate is far enough along in his character development at this point that just waving some treasure under his nose alone wouldn’t do it, you need that illusion that he’s saving someone he loves — the first person he ever relied on, who he thought he lost once because he failed him — to make him keep going, and Sam knows this and uses it and it’s so horribly, calculatedly cruel? I think there are a few times where he kind of wants to come clean (uh already too late because what the HELL he’s already fucked up all his relationships lol) only to be interrupted by Action but in the end it’s a deliberate, long con of assholery that it’s extremely difficult to look past. Ah well I guess he’s stuck as my ‘I will mercilessly yet affectionately mock you’ character, that’s something.

- Aaagh the scene where Elena’s like ‘who are you’ is so good because it must be such a blow, knowing this man she loves and (bravely, because he is a disaster magnet) made the choice to try to make a life with for the second time still thinks he needs to lie to her, like he’s been lying to the world at large for most of his life — his name is a lie, so much of his outer identity is invented, but hey she wouldn’t have married him if she didn’t think they were past that this time and trusted each other with honesty… and then out of the blue a dead-yet-still-somehow-smoking-a-sketchy-cigarette brother???? Normally the ‘what else have you been lying about’ line makes me roll my eyes but she is ABSOLUTELY right to wonder about that and it breaks my heart

as does Nate going ‘I’m just me’ in that voice aaaaaaauuuuuugh he does try but he’s not completely at the point where he thinks he can be acceptable and loved as he is, no need to hide the broken things, still that kid learning that it’s better to not be seen or tell the truth because it just makes things worse

(I feel it’s a good balance between ‘protagonist making some DUMB SELF-DESTRUCTIVE CHOICES LIKE AN IDIOT’ and ‘makes perfect, tragic sense considering their history’, ending up at sympathetic but still in the wrong and in need of getting it the hell together in a hurry. At least he clearly realizes he’s fucked up pretty much immediately, which is something I GUESS)

TL;DR Nate, listen to Sully and go talk it out with your wife, I’m real upset now I’ll go make myself a cup of tea ;____;

- Sam was straight up going to shoot Nadine in the head, huh. I mean… wow. I wonder why she doesn’t like you very much, bro lol

- I’m a Black Sails fan so whenever Anne Bonny shows up I’m like *golden retriever face* HI FRIEND HI sorry about the... poison

- ...is it weird that I want to write fix it fic for Evelyn and Ken

All his letters are so  c u t e  and loving and I am devastated

Puzzling their story together like that was super effective too — it was so cool that if you know what to look for you could find the Tokugawa armor he mentions in the first letter before any other clues, I was going ‘Oh she totally married that beautiful nerd’ right there and then ha ha. Evelyn’s design was wonderful, you could tell the force of nature she must have been in her prime.

Bonus points for Nate looking up at her like a puppy who’s found someone really cool to aspire to. Also their father looks nominally less of a rampant unrepentant asshole if he sold Cassandra’s things specifically to her mentor. Microscopically. I’d still like to kick his ass tho.

- I guess Sam is three to five years older than Nate, then, if he remembers (vaguely) going to Windsor before Nate was even born? Bit hazy on the timeline here, because Nate’s memories of their parents — especially their mum — must be quite hazy if, like Marlowe states in U3, he was surrendered to the state at the age of five and they moved around with their dad a lot even before that.

- Nate was the most tired-looking twelve year old I have ever seen and it hurts me

The fact that Nate started off looking exhausted and a little snub-nosed and grew into a very handsome and charming young man (ssssh I’m in no way biased here just because he’s my son) while Sam was sweet and bright-eyed as a teenager and now looks like someone who is low-key dealing drugs around the local high school… this game is truly a tour de force of character design

- So apparently Shoreline was already off to a bad start when Nadine took over? That makes it doubly sad that she’s judging herself so harshly for losing it when her father had already left it to her as a mess :(

- THANK YOU ELENA AND SULLY FOR SAVING THIS WONDERFUL FOOLISH BOY YET AGAIN. “I left my life for you”  D: D: D:

Also slightly sad that Sam has… literally nothing except Nate and Avery’s treasure? On the other hand that’s entirely his own fault so. Less sad. (Makes me immensely thankful Sully and then Elena found Nate when they did)

- Nate… using his words… cautiously expressing how he actually felt… Elena mulling it over… realizing part of why she loves him is that weird restless brain of his doing its thing……. coming up with a solution where they can solve it as partners in the ending………... I am clinically ded, go on without me

- Realest GPOY moment: Sully’s flat immediate ‘no’ to Nate going off to save Sam on his own. He’s so scared!!!! And so was I!!!! My soul bond with an American con man three times my age continues to be unbreakable

- Relieved that my sister was in control for the fencing bit, because I don’t know if I could handle being responsible for Nate’s safety like that

That said, how destroyed was I that Nate didn’t really start fighting back before Rafe threatened his family? Completely, though it does force me to take the words ‘ludonarrative dissonance’ in my mouth for the first time in my life — no way does he kill as many people in the reality of the story as you do in gameplay if he’s still this hesitant to respond to someone openly trying to murder him lol. I realize this is a game and they need some kind of pretense to keep it from being a movie with the occasional QTE, but Naughty Dog you can’t just… repeatedly show that Nate has a hard time killing in cold blood and then have him take out an army in the next breath

(Naughty Dog: We did and you’re completely willing to go with it lawl. Me: Oooooh I hate that you’re right)

- Nadine stone cold leaving those bitches behind Worked for me, you do you you beautiful disaster, see you next game with your excellent character development. Another wonderful thread they continue into The Lost Legacy: Sam being forever relegated to the back seat. Yes good.  

- Sully promptly semi-adopting a second Drake brother, arguably the tougher case. A power move if ever I saw one.

- I deeply respect Naughty Dog’s decision to make an epilogue to let me know everyone is safe and happy and it all turned out okay, but I also wish they wouldn’t have ha ha. The last scene with Elena and Nate perfectly set that up for me already, specifically spelling out one happy ending among the many that could have happened actually somewhat cheapened it for me? The ‘flash forward, now they have children, get immediately invested!’ move is already suuuuch a hard one to pull off and I think it did it about as well as they possibly could, but somehow I also begrudge Cassie for her position in the narrative and that’s not how I want to feel about it, y’know? Actually it’s fine, I’ll accept it, because their dog is named Vicky and Nate writes in his journal that he’d call his pet lemur Victor and it made my entire week

- Having played three of the games I can still say that Uncharted 3 is definitely my fave, but then parts of that seem genuinely tailor made specifically for me, so that’s not really a surprise ha ha

- Thank you, Uncharted, for being the emotionally intelligent yet light hearted adventure story with lovable characters I needed in this dark cold winter and making me spill over with so many flaily happy words. 

[pluviophile-imagines]

Ok but imagine there’s a blackout and it’s quarantine housemate style with Kirishima. You guys search around in the dark for candles and there’s fluffy moments of touching/bumping into each other. When you find the only candle you have, you sit it between the both of you and play never have I ever to pass the time until the lights come back on. It’s very silly and fun and there’s secrets shared and maybe kisses (definitely kisses)

Omg I love this? Djdksdjdnd you did it I got inspired so here’s a lil ficlet I wrote bc my muse grabbed me by the throat and told me to write. Anon, this was so cute lmfao. I had to put a read more bc I wrote too much 😳

Kirishima’s a chivalrous guy; when the power goes and the entire apartment suddenly becomes steeped in darkness, the first thing he does is run to ur room to make sure you’re ok, not scared or anything. He probably runs into your door in the dark lol. & yeah, you’re fine, but it is kinda unnerving so you two decide to hang out in the living room. You know you’ve got a battery powered lantern around but Kiri’s set on candles (he says something about tradition) and honestly it’s too endearing to say no so you help him hunt down some tealights and big mason jar ones.

There’s not a lot so you only set them up in the living room. Your apartment is definitely a fire hazard now with all the open flames around, but honestly he was right—all the candles have a nicer energy than the bright LED light of your lantern. You guys end up together on the floor with candles all around you.

You’re the one who suggests playing Never Have I Ever. He’s kinda hesitant, ‘cause every time he’s played it with his UA friends it’s ended poorly, but when he voices this concern with you, you just laugh and say that happens in big groups. It’s just you and him, though, so if questions make either of you uncomfortable you or he can just say so.

You learn so. Much. Shit about each other and each others’ friends it’s kind of insane. You’d been friends before (I think it’d be hard to be Kiri’s roommate and not become friends with him, he wouldn’t let you) but never really all that close. This definitely changes that. You sit there together for hours, talking and laughing and enjoying each others company. Somewhere along the line you gravitate towards each other until you’re basically half on his lap, legs all tangled up, covered by a blanket he’s grabbed from the couch.

That’s the position you’re in when your statement is, “Never have I ever had a decent kiss.”

Kirishima probably puts his finger down and is already thinking of his next one before his brain fully catches up and realizes that the point is to make the other person put their finger down and keep yours up, which would mean that…

“Wait, you’ve never been kissed well?”

He doesn’t really sound like he’s joking, and there’s genuine concern on his face when you look at him, like it’s a detriment to your health that all the times you’ve been kissed have been disasters.

“No, not really. I’ve only done it a few times and it was just… bad breath or gross slobber or biting my lip in a not sexy way.” You shrug. “It’s not a big deal.”

“Not a big deal? You’re like, a year away from graduating college and you’ve had—what did you say? Four boyfriends?”

“Two of those were in middle school, Kirishima. No kissing involved, though if there had been I wouldn’t expect it to be any good.”

“It’s still bullshit. I mean, you like a guy enough to want to kiss him and he just drops the ball like that? Doesn’t even bother to learn how to do it right?”

He’s getting kind of heated about it, like your only two real boyfriends had done you entirely wrong because the few times you’d locked lips had been objectively awful.

“It’s not like I was dating them just to physically be with them. I liked their personality and their intelligence and shit.”

“And shit,” he repeats, looking at you like you said you’d slapped your grandmother in the face. “That’s— I mean— a kiss is supposed to be a way of showing your affection. And there are so many kinds, like I can’t imagine you’d make out with someone if they didn’t know how to properly kiss.”

You wrinkle your nose. “Nah, no way, I don’t have the patience for that.”

“So you’ve never made out with anyone.”

“Nope.”

“You’re 21 and you just. Haven’t had a real kiss.”

“Hey!” You smack his shoulder playfully. “I put my lips against someone else’s lips because I liked them romantically, that’s a real kiss.”

“No, no, not if you didn’t like it. A real kiss is supposed to leave you wanting more—it’s supposed to, like, make you feel all giddy and excited, like you've gotten a fresh breath of air and released some tension but at the same time you’ve become addicted.”

You sit there frozen for a few seconds, unable to figure out how to respond. You settle on shaking your head in disbelief. “Well, let me know if you know a guy who can kiss like that so I can fix this apparent utter travesty in my life.”

“I mean...” he pauses just barely, eyes meeting yours before he continues. “I’m right here, if you wanna fix it now.”

That stuns you to silence. You’re not sure if he’s being serious but it still makes your imagination run wild. You’ve known he’s attractive (I mean, you have eyes), but honestly never thought the sentiment might be mutual.

Plus… the way he’s looking at you kind of makes you excited. You don’t think a guy has ever looked at you that way before.

“I’m serious. I could kiss you right now. D’you want me to?”

“I—“ you cut yourself off, trying to stop your train of thought in its tracks while it’s conjuring up images of him doing exactly that. Unfortunately for you, your eyes subconsciously fall upon his lips, and that does not fucking help in the slightest. Before you can fully think it through, you’re breathing out, “Okay.”

Kirishima sits up and turns so that he’s leaning back against your couch. Then he reaches toward you and gently maneuvers you to sit fully on his lap, straddling him. The blanket falls from your legs and lays forgotten in a heap next to the two of you. “Is that good?”

At your nod, he brings one of his hands up to your neck, holding you tenderly. It’s so big that his fingers reach past your nape even while his palm cradles your jaw. He uses it to guide you towards him and tilt your head the right way.

You thought he was being ridiculous when he described a good kiss. When he leans in to slate his lips against yours though, you realize what he was talking about. The connection does make you feel all giddy and excited—in fact, it makes your whole body buzz with adrenaline. Your eyes flutter closed on their own.

He guides you, a combination of his hand on your neck and the movement of his lips directing you through minute motions that do, in fact, make you feel like you’ve gotten a breath of fresh air. It only gives you a desire to delve deeper, and he obliges, pulling you closer by both the hand cradling your jaw and the one that’s resting on the small of your back.

The action makes you realize foggily that your own hands have moved; one clutching his bicep in an attempt to keep you mostly vertical while your body melts into him, the other threading through his hair (which is lacking product because he ran out two days ago, which he told you early on in your game).

He pulls back too soon, in your opinion. Again, his words from before flood your head; the kiss really has left you wanting more. You’re pretty sure you are addicted. And when you finally open your eyes to find him grinning at you, all you can think of when you see those pointed teeth is how well he might be able to use them next time.

“There.” Your eyes snap up to meet his as he speaks, tone more than a little satisfied. You suppose that you’re wearing on your face all the confirmation he needs to know that he has, in fact, fixed your little problem. He asks anyway, though. “Did I do it?”

You bite your lip. It’s subconscious, but you enjoy the way he gaze is drawn to it and becomes heavy-lidded at the sight. It’s all the confirmation you need as you draw you mouth back in a grin. “I dunno. I think we should try again, just to make sure.”

[crimsonrevolt]

Congratulations Snow you’ve been accepted to Crimson Revolt as Dirk Cresswell!

↳ please refer to our character checklist

It’s always so amazing to me that so many people choose to come back to Crimson and it’s such a joy to see your Dirk come back to life in your app! I know I speak for many when I say that you took a character that none of us knew much about and brought with him a personality that we couldn’t forget. It’s so good to see you again and that you’ve found the time to come back to the rp! Snow, your reason for choosing him, in particular, made me emotional, and I can’t wait to see you write him with a fresh breath of life! Hopefully, you’ll be able to carry him on a new and beautiful journey as the war progresses and affects him. I can’t wait to see you and Dirk back on the dash! 

application beneath the cut ( tw: brief mentions of death )

OUT OF CHARACTER

INTRODUCTION

Snow, 21, she/her, gmt+3

ACTIVITY

im going to well and truly throw myself into my studies this semester, and i’m also running an rp with a friend of mine on tumblr, so i don’t know how active i’ll be honestly. given how much i already love and adore every member of this group and all your characters, i’ll be able to find time. 6 or 5 out of ten, i think.

TRIGGERS

*removed for privacy

HOW DID YOU FIND US?

a promo blog about a year ago lol. i found this group way before it even opened but only applied like, months afterwards.

WHAT HARRY POTTER CHARACTER DO YOU IDENTIFY WITH MOST?

hm. my answer differs every time based on my mood i think. like i dont think there’s one character i really truly identify with? probably percy tho lbr.

ANYTHING ELSE?

nope.

IN CHARACTER

DESIRED CHARACTER

dirk cresswell. well, a revised version of him.

FACE CLAIM

ezra miller. listen i tried to change his fc but ezra is dirk and dirk is ezra the line has been blurred for ages now it is beyond my control.

REASON FOR CHOSEN CHARACTER

i’d thought of coming back with a different character and had gone through a host of them in the open tag. i’d considered someone on the other end of the spectrum to counteract the experience i’ve had playing dirk. i’d thought of playing someone balanced and sophisticated and well-mannered, someone with a little less emotion and a little more poise. someone who is not dirk, but dirk seems to have stuck himself all the way down to the roots and i can’t seem to get him out.

i cannot properly express in words how much i love this character. i’m floundering for the right ways to lay it out. he is a myriad of unlikely contradictions – kind, and just, and cruel. he is optimism and realism hand-in-hand, but he is just as much that as he is full of lies. half truths, denials, secrets. he is honest and genuine, and his intentions are as pure as those of a noble knight but he strikes quick, and fast, and merciless, with the harsh finality of an execution.

he loves openly. he is never shying away from expressing his love and devotion for his friends and family. he is never afraid of what his love for them would do to him, or to them – no, he is afraid: the fear of losing someone who’d rooted themselves into the crevices of his life is numbing, almost all-consuming, but dirk has never known how to not love, how to not be so open towards them so much of the time.

and even then, it feels, to him, as though he is never without something to hide. as though he is never not carrying a secret of some sort, as though there is always something he is carefully folding to the side throughout his life, as though he has never been fully honest with another person before. the thing is, he is always open about the good parts of himself – he is loud and obnoxious about his love and his optimism, he is blazing and boisterous about his successes and achievements. he is almost always alone in his losses. he has become terribly adept in being both honest and not, at once.

he does not forgive. he is fearful of trust, of betrayal, of being left in the dust once again. he loves, he loves, he loves, but he does not trust quite as freely.

i’d focused much too much on his guilt and misery when i had played him last, but i’m hoping to be able to focus more this time on some good things in his life. which will probably not last very long lbr but im excited to see for myself.

PREFERRED SHIPS // CHARACTER SEXUALITY // GENDER & PRONOUNS

dirk is an utter, unbelievably obnoxious, hopeless romantic. he is nineteen years old and had known he is gay for years, the wizarding world being far more relaxed about such things than where he’d come from, but only in the last few years or so had he become relaxed enough to be open about his sexuality to more than just the people he trusts. the idea of finding a committed, long term partner – male partner – is only just beginning to settle itself within him. he is only now beginning to truly see himself with a future in perhaps a domestic fashion and, despite the times they live in, he is positively giddy. it’s embarrassing. really.

dirk is a cis male character, though i’d really like to see how he would interact with a trans and/or nonbinary character and how he might find solace with someone who, while perhaps not exactly like him, falls far from the conventional lines drawn up by the social structures they live in.

CREATE ONE (OR MORE!) OF THE FOLLOWING FOR YOUR CHARACTER:

traits:

+ TALENTED:

Dirk’s magical talents were difficult to miss, even to those who really, really tried, and it was not entirely for the considerable amount of bragging on Dirk’s part – though, arguably, that was a large part of it – but his hands, deft with potions and charms and defensive spells, were quick to catch people’s attention, and keep it. his exceptional dueling skills had not gone unnoticed, either, not by his teachers, and certainly not by his pureblooded schoolmates, who have repeatedly tested his abilities first hand.

+SOCIABLE:

Dirk is That One Kid that knows everyone, and who everyone knows. He joined every extracellular activity the school had to offer at one point or another, he never missed a chance to hang out and have fun, and he was always interested in meeting new people and making new friends. His easy humor and confident attitude drew people to him and relaxed them in his company, his optimism and cheeky remarks making him an uplifting presence to have around. He is secretive, however, keeping his emotional troubles and inner demons far away from prying eyes, even those he considers close.

-TRUST ISSUES:

Dirk has been shown love and taught not to trust it. a parting gift, from his mother, one could say. he finds difficulty – immense difficulty – in sharing his troubles, or his secrets of any kind, with anyone. he loves and he cares about his friends and there is very little he wouldn’t do for them, but trust is something that is difficult to come by, for him, and it is something that frustrates his friends to no end.

-ARROGANT:

Dirk has an exaggerated sense of his own abilities. He is talented, yes, anyone would be hard pressed to deny that, but he tends to – overestimate, what he can do. It could also be put down to his perfectionist nature, that he would bite off more than he could chew and simply expect himself to rise up to the challenge.

he is so confident in the caliber of his character, in his own moral righteousness, in his ability to tell right from wrong. he believes so completely in aversio and what they stand for and in the choices he’s made, that he is right, that he is good, that what they’re doing is entirely justified to a morally correct eye. his arrogance and his pride, just as his loyalty and his bravery and everything good in his heart, have led him down a path of darkness where the torch of his anger has lit the way so brightly he cannot see the blackness of his surroundings. he is a morally grey character with a black and white mindset.

——

Mockblog: dorkcresswxll.tumblr.com

IN CHARACTER QUESTIONNAIRE

♔ If you were able to invent one spell, potion, or charm, what would it do, what would you use it for or how would you use it? Feel free to name it:

he squints, tilts his head, leans back on the back of his feet. “just one?” he asks, and straightens up as a thought occurs to him. there’s the beginning of a grin pulling at his lips, something of boyish mischief coloring his features. “something to, to take care of pureblooded bigots. y’know, take care of ‘em. actually, all bigots, y’know, all at once.” he shrugs, hands shoved into his pockets, boyish grin spreading across his face. giddy. “i’d call it the purifier, just for kicks.”

♔ You have to venture deep into the Forbidden Forest one night. Pick one other character and one object (muggle or magical), besides your wand, that you’d want with you:

“Sal!” a burst of laughter, involuntary, and he leans forward. “did you see her swing that wretched bat of hers? i’d take her with me to that Snake Supreme if i could, she’d bash his head in and cuss up a storm and everything, she’s good at making a big fuss.” the fond gleam in his eyes is unmissed by any, there is pride in his voice when he speaks of her, of his sister. he does not attempt to hide it. “and – and food for the object, i think, that’d work out pretty well, yeah?”

♔ What kinds of decisions are the most difficult for you to make?

“when to take a bloody break.” he huffs, annoyed, and perhaps a touch embarrassed. “i still don’t know how to do that.”

♔ What is one thing you would never want said about you?

that he is weak, that he is lesser, that he isn’t good enough. that he is just as bad as those he fights to rid the world of, that he is worst. that he is amoral, immoral, that he is unjust and evil and simply a murderer.

he hums. thoughtful. for a moment. “that i can’t take a loss well. which, mind you, is ridiculous – i never lose anyway!”

WRITING SAMPLE

it wasn’t difficult to get the old man to sign his letter – it wasn’t difficult, he’d not needed any convincing, all dirk had to do was thrust the form under his nose, pen in hand and a flat look upon his face: stiff, clunky, the way he only ever is with his father anymore.

the man looks up from the book between his palms, his sharp nose striking, his slanted eyes lifting towards his son. there is a crease between his brows as he pulls the paper from the young boy’s hands, eyes over ink before he asks what this is.

“it’s a permission form.” he sounds nervous. he hates it. “for hogsmeade.” he says, “you’re supposed to sign it.”

and the man signs it. just like that, he reads the paper and he signs it – he hangs on to it for a moment before giving it back. there is something there, something he wants to say, but his father was never good with words and so he says nothing. dirk is pathetically grateful – he never seems to say the right thing when his dad is involved, either.

dirk takes the paper and shifts his weight between his feet and isn’t sure if he should just leave – there is something there he wants to say, as well, but he can’t quite grasp the words and so he mulls about for a moment more, shifting the paper in his hand, before he nods a quick ‘thank you’ and scurries away.

he stuffs the paper in his pocket as he walks away. he stuffs his guilt down too, and tries not to think about it – he’d been avoiding his dad all summer, had only spoken to him now when he needed something, and not for the first time he wonders how it’s gotten this bad. he wonders when it’s gotten so tense between them they can’t share more than a few words before something made someone snap. he wonders what made it so, what caused this wide, gaping chasm to stretch between them – but he can’t think about that without thinking about emptied rooms and funeral marches, so he shakes his head quickly and bursts into Sal’s room.

They have much planned for the rest of the day, and there’s only so much of summer left for them to enjoy.