#《 elena fisher. 》desires.

[erismerald]

𝐓𝐡𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 (Samuel Drake x Insecure Fem! Reader) 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐈

𝐀/𝐍: Hello my loves! I know I have been some time away and without any kind of inspiration, however this has been a very complicated year for me and I have not been well enough mentally to even be able to read or post anything!!! But luckily I am slowly getting better (because i´ve meet someone who´s inspire me, and tbh he is a lot like Sam) and now I feel a little more inspired and motivated to write!!! I wish you a good read and I would like to remind you that my orders will open in a few days or so feel free to send me something!!!

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: It's amazing how exciting and terrifying living alone can be, during a sleepless night as you think back and rethink the nights others warmed the bed of the person you loved the most, a storm of pleasure hit your door.

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Insecure reader, Age gap, Semi-Nsfw (sexual tension is in the air for now eheheh) a huge load of fluff, Drunk Sam

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2,517

Lust is a pleasure bought with pains, a delight hatched with disquiet, a content passed with fear, and a sin finished with sorrow. It's not reprehensible to want something that isn't ours, to desire in the depths of our thoughts something that our heart yearns for, that our body malevolently covets, to be enveloped by the sin that torments our thoughts… during the day it's as if it's just a specter that struts around your heart, but when dusk sets in, this carnal sin dominates every sensation in your body, until the revelry of your hands sliding across your soft skin begins, caressing every centimetre of the core of your body, allowing your thoughts to imagine him in your place… in his most libinous state, such a pure sensation, you begin to imagine his body attached to yours, both in a voluptuous battle to feel more of each other, his lips brushing against your neck and his husky voice a melody to your ears, you imagine his hands pressing you against the mattress, his tongue obscenely tracing its way down between your legs… in the pitch black, you utter his name lovingly like a lover whispering the most lascivious promises, you purr his name, yet your hands caress your core, feeling the wave of pleasure run through every cell of your body… when that pleasure finally sinks in, you open your eyes and feel yourself gasping for breath, and you realise that it was nothing more than your imagination.

You get up calmly from your bed, your body still recovering from the forbidden sensation of pleasure, you see your naked figure in a small worn mirror given to you by the person who kept your mind occupied day and night, quite possibly looted during one of his countless adventures with his companion Sully, and you realise that your face is flushed, ashamed as you remember the previous events, you look away in a struggle to maintain focus, redirect your gaze back to the object and in its reflection observe your nude physique, from your perspective it was no big deal, for many years you hid yourself because you were ashamed of certain features, until you met Samuel Drake, a charming man you were fortunate enough to meet at a conference given by one of your favourite journalists, Elena Fisher. Since then, your friendship and your love for him have intensified, even though you knew that your feelings for him were completely doomed and incorrect… for various reasons: your age difference, your lack of experience in relationships, his lack of interest in you… Sometimes you let your mind wander to the immensity of the women he'd already had and that brought you a feeling of craving… jealousy, but deep down you knew that it was completely impossible for anything to happen between the two of you, he saw you as a godchild, a kid in his eyes… You shook your head in an endeavour to dispel these negative thoughts and focus on what was important at that moment: finishing your college paper, you still had a few days to hand it in but you'd rather get it done before you suffocate yourself with work.

The temperature had dropped over the last few days, you could feel it as you walked barefoot across the cold living room floor of your small flat, your gaze carefully examining the clutter, the abandoned sheets and books in battle, on the living room coffee table, on the desk, even on the kitchen table, you could tell that these last few days had been extremely busy, and a large part of you wanted to finish this work as soon as possible so that you could rest and take a few days for yourself. Contemplating the huge window in front of you, it was raining heavily and the only lights were those of the huge city on the horizon, this kind of weather had been your favourite since you were a child, you slowly made your way through the small room towards the kitchen, a coffee would be your salvation for the night, or so you thought.

The sound of lightning echoed through the sky, hours had passed since you started working, you quickly glanced at the window and the rain had become heavier and steadier, completely distracted by the storm brewing on the horizon, you were surprised by the ringing of the doorbell… you weren't expecting anyone that night… or any other night, but for a moment you felt a wave of anxiety run through your body, who could it be? You walked cautiously to the door and peered through the peephole, holding your breath as you saw who was on the other side… Sam… his wet clothes clinging to his muscular body, his hair in disarray and on closer inspection you noticed that he had a wound on one of his arms and his nose was once again broken… You quickly opened the door, his expression changing from serious to relieved within seconds of seeing you.

"S-Sam? what happened-" your question was interrupted when your bodies came together in an embrace, you could feel his breathing quicken, his body relax as it came into contact with yours, his perfume was intoxicating mixed with the blood that dripped down his arm, his face was hidden in the hollow of your neck and that activated something in your body, a strange warmth travelled through your whole being "S-Sam…?" you asked once more.

"I'm sorry for turning up unannounced, darling, but I didn't have anywhere else to go so I thought I'd pay my dear Y/N a visit." For a few seconds his raspy voice against your neck provoked another feeling, a river of pleasure emerged from between your legs, but you put that thought aside when you smelled the alcohol, he was drunk… and had most likely got into some kind of bar fight. As much as it pained you, you pulled your bodies apart and looked straight into his eyes, you had to take care of him, he needed you right now.

"Come on… Let's take care of you, big guy" he chuckled softly, and with a little effort you managed to get him to the sofa, but when you got there you unbalanced yourself on one of your books and almost fell on top of him "S-sorry, the mess is huge, I've been busy-" your eyes met and you could see amusement in the depths of his eyes, his gaze analysed you calmly from top to bottom, your heart started racing, you could feel his breath close to your lips. … but you quickly pulled away, you knew that look wasn't really directed at you, you knew that because he was drunk he could do and say things that he didn't really feel. "Whilst I get the first aid box, please Sam stay still" you stood up from your position, you heard a snort of laughter coming from him, you could feel that cunning old man smirk

"Your house… your orders love, I promise I'll be quiet" he said as you walked away towards the bathroom, picking up the small white box, you stopped in front of the mirror, you were flushed red, your breathing fast, you couldn't get out of your head the image of him lying on your sofa, his sweatshirt clinging to his body… for a man in his 40s, he's too well preserved… you got lost in your thoughts and only came back when you heard his voice pulling you back to reality "What's up Y/N?" his voice was mesmerising, once again you tried to push those thoughts out of your head, you had to focus on the task at hand.

You quickly return to the living room, Sam was sitting on the sofa going through some of your papers when you arrived. "You've been really busy, huh? Have you had any time to yourself? with so many books around I don't think so" he said as you made room to sit next to him, every touch of your skin, even covered by clothes, made your blood rush through your veins "please can you pull up your sleeve? It's funny that every time we meet I have to look after you and yes I've been busy unfortunately" you sighed opening the box and taking out some of the materials you'll need, he smiled as he took off his shirt, as you turned to him you saw his naked torso in front of you, you automatically got embarrassed and looked away, he saw you blush and smirk, he knew the effect he had on you, the air around you was hot. … you wanted to focus on the task at hand but you couldn't, the sensation of his body close to yours, the heat he emanated… it was like a drug was affecting you, but with a lot of effort you managed to finish bandaging his arm. You felt his gaze intensify on you, those earth-coloured eyes analysing every bit of your skin exposed by the pyjamas you were wearing. Sam had looked at you like that before, but on all those occasions he had been drunk, and in an attempt to divert the subject you asked him how he had got himself into that state.

"Well, I'm in town for a few days, Victor and I think this might be our next clue to an artefact we're looking for, and since I had nothing to do I went for a drink, but I think I pissed someone off by trying to flirt with the barmaid…" he said, leaning back on the sofa. Jealousy… That feeling from earlier again… Anger and insecurity ran through your head, and you weren't even listening to what he was saying anymore, it was as if your mind had focussed on that one detail, it was obtuse to think of him as a lover, let alone be jealous of something that wasn't even yours, but that feeling was consuming you and you only managed to return to reality when you felt his touch on your arm "Hey? are you listening darling?" You immediately looked at him, you could feel tears forming in your eyes and so as to avoid having to deal with questions or the feeling of pity, you got up and walked to the kitchen "I'm going to make some coffee", was the last thing you had said before leaving the room.

You shouldn't feel angry, you shouldn't even desire what isn't yours, but somehow that feeling consumed your whole being, just imagining the women who warmed his bed, the cries of pleasure that came out of their mouths, the touches, the words spoken… everything you couldn't have but wanted, everything you longed to have but once again didn't have… you let your mind wander, until you felt a gentle touch on your shoulder, you looked back and Sam's face seemed somewhat saddened to see you like that, neither of you uttered a single word, but the silence was quite comfortable, but unfortunately you couldn't hold back the tears that you had fought so hard to keep in your eyes, and finally they dripped down from your eyes, wetting your face. Sam stroked your arm first, pulling you closer to him, cutting the space between the two of you, and gently lifted your chin so that your eyes meet, wiping away the tears that were still running down your cheeks with his thumb, without cutting your gaze… inside you were nervous, sad, but the feeling of his caress made you feel at peace with yourself.

"Tell me, dear, what's wrong? You know you can trust me with everything" he whispered in your ear as he pulled you into his arms, the only thing you knew how to do was hide your face in his chest, hugging him tightly… asking the gods that this moment would last forever.

"Sam… I… I know I shouldn't, I know it's not the right thing to do, but I've had feelings for you since the day we met… every time you call me, every time we meet, I wonder when I'll be able to see you next… you've stolen my heart in a way that I can't even express myself…" You said softly, still hiding your face in his body, "I long for something that isn't mine, and I get jealous every time I know that someone else is taking the place that could be mine in your bed… next to you." Saying this out loud was a really difficult task, you didn't want to give in to temptation, but you couldn't bear to let yourself feel this anguish any longer, no matter how much you'd be rejected, you'd rather tell him than hide it. Sam once again grabbed your chin and forced you to look up. The light around you was tenuous, and you could hardly see what was around you, but for mere moments it was just the two of you in that kind of darkness. You felt Sam slowly approaching you, his lips brushed your neck "Do you want me?" he said as he gently kissed your exposed neck "Sam…" you felt his tongue drawing little 's' on your skin "Answer me darling, do you want me?" his lips moved up to your lobe, nibbling, letting out a slight moan, "Y-Yes… " you answered breathlessly, he pulled away, leaving you in the interlude of a forbidden pleasure, your eyes locked once more, one of his hands rested on the side of your face, forcing your lips to be mere millimetres apart, the other slid down your body until it reached your waist, pulling you towards him, claiming you as his.

"My dear Y/N, ever since I laid eyes on you I knew I wanted you… no other woman can fulfil the desire I feel for you… i thought you'd reject me so i didn't go through with it, but god damned, each night i wished it was you whispering my name, that it was you moaning with each thrust, that it was your heart that beat close to mine after we fell on the mattress tired and sweaty from the carnal battle that neither of us had won" and with that he sealed your lips, you felt his tongue asking permission to enter and you gave in, you were both gasping, but the fight didn't stop there. With a simple gesture, the hand that was holding your waist lifted you up onto the stall, forcing both your legs open, where he positioned himself in the middle, his kisses went down to your neck once more and all you could do was moan his name.

"Tell me you want me, darling, beg for me, let me be a priest who worships you, let me make you mine, and only mine…" he said between kisses and caresses, your head was light, the only thing you could hear was the sound of your heart and the pounding rain, but with effort you answered

"Yes… please."

𝐓𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐞𝐝…

[the-uncharted-cookbook]

Cargo Pilot

Victor Sullivan is a man of passion and taste. The only thing he loves more than stiff drinks, expensive cigars, and beautiful women is telling stories about them. From the very first moment he stepped into my bar, he was chatting up anyone and everyone he could find and sharing tales of his many escapades all around the world, each more climactic than the last.

While hearing about barmaids and brothels was certainly exciting, what captivated me was the sheer breadth of his adventures. Sully has been everywhere and rubbed shoulders with everyone, carving out his living hauling freight around the globe in the Hog Wild, his trusty Grumman Goose G-21 seaplane. Unfortunately, the Hog didn't survive one of Sully's most dangerous expeditions down in the South Pacific, but Nathan Drake and Elena Fisher have since paid him back for crashing his plane with a replacement. I suggested Sully name his new Goose the Whole Hog, to keep with the theme.

The Cargo Pilot was born from a desire to create a cocktail as well traveled as Victor Sullivan himself. It's a riff on the Test Pilot, a drink originally created sometime before 1941 by Donn Beach, the founding father of tiki and a man also famous for his intrepid nature.

CARGO PILOT

Ingredients: 1.25 oz overproof white Jamaican rum (Wray & Nephew) 1 oz aged Demerara rum (El Dorado 12) 0.75 oz lime juice 0.5 oz white grapefruit juice 0.5 oz treasure spice syrup 1 tsp honey syrup 1 dash Angostura bitters 6 drops absinthe Combine all ingredients in a cocktail shaker with pebble ice. Shake and dump directly into a Mai Tai or double Old Fashioned glass. Garnish with fresh mint (slapped to express the oils), a cherry on a pick, and a paper or foam airplane.

The Cargo Pilot calls for two specific types of rum: an unaged overproof white Jamaican rum and an aged Demerara rum. For the Jamaican, I recommend Wray & Nephew but Rum Fire will do in a pinch. For the Demerara, I use El Dorado aged 12 years but Pusser's British Navy Rum, Hamilton 86, or other aged El Dorado rums will serve just as well. The types of rum are deliberately chosen for the flavors they bring so be careful and do research before making substitutions. A white Jamaican rum and a white Puerto Rican or Dominican rum are going to taste vastly different, for example.

Similarly, if you use a pink or ruby red grapefruit juice instead of white grapefruit, you'll wind up with a sweeter drink. It may be worth it to adjust the amount of treasure syrup or honey to account for this.

The recipes for treasure spice syrup and honey syrup can be found here.

[bellaaldamas]

10 characters, 10 fandoms

Tagged by the lovely @loveisalwaystheanswer

1 - Ariel (Disney) - this one has been a constant since the day I witnessed moving pictures and images on my tv box before I knew they're called a "film" and the first one I saw was "The Little Mermaid". Now, being old all grown up only intensified a million times and made more self aware my appreciation for Ariel's active defiance of patriarchal limitations, her determination and perseverance to follow her desires and ambitions (in all areas); and her willingness to lose her life to save her friend (Flounder) from the shark combined with unwillingness to lose a bag of treasured research items which she literally risked her limb for.

Being a child means loving Ariel. Being a gullible adolescent falling for misogynistic stereotypes cleverly disguised as "progressiveness, wokeness and feminism" means "realizing King Triton was right". Being an adult means realizing Ariel was right all along in exercising her agency and not letting it be suppressed and you should do it too.

Other characters do not go in a particular order, but deserve admiration and a mention all the same:

2 - Paige Matthews (Charmed)

3 - Fair tie between Atreus and Angrboda (God of war (Ragnarok)).

4 - Marimar Perez/Bella Aldama (hence my URL) (Marimar the telenovela).

5 - Mr George Knightley ("Emma", Jane Austen)

6 - Luke Skywalker (Star Wars)

7 - Miles Morales (Spider-man by Insomniac Games)

8 - Elena Fisher (Uncharted)

9 - Nathan Scott (One Tree Hill)

10 - Erika (Princess and the Pauper, Barbie franchise)

[yllowpages]

AT THIS MOMENT, ELENA FISHER, YOU WANT ...

... TO UNDERSTAND : you feel as if you cannot understand. your heart desires to do so, but everything seems useless, or maybe like you've exhausted every possible option. you've probably tried hard, looking low and high. opening every cabinet in the house, searching ever drawer, looking under every bed. you might've ripped apart whole rooms looking, searching for exactly what you need. maybe you feel you've run out of places to look, things to find, people to ask. the windshield is frosted over, and you're sitting in the car, waiting for it to melt on a cold, winter morning. it feels as if it'll never defrost, impossible to see through, no matter how much heat there is. be patient. keep searching. you'll understand eventually, i promise.

tagged by : @wasloyal <3 tagging : @southernfires, @decimatlas (for eden), @htsdfferent (for cordelia), @justsken, @bluebeatle, @strnza, @dollpink

[wavehq]

enjoy limitless possibilities here in celestire islands, elena fisher ( uncharted ) and eve ( lucifer ), where you can start the new life you've always longed for. make sure you read the checklist, as we'll be sending the discord link through ims! enjoy your new dream, blackwell!

( uncharted (video game), dupes not allowed.  elizabeth lail, she / her , cis - female. )  ——-  hey, is that ( elena fisher ) hanging around ( celestire news )? i wonder what life is like for them, balancing working as a ( thirty - two ) year old ( journalist ) and ( listening to true crime podcasts )? they’re notorious for being ( tenacious ) yet ( skeptical ), and i always seem to hear ( here comes the sun ) by ( the beatles ) playing whenever they walk past. they’re known around the islands for ( once being arrested to breaking and entering whilst she was on a story ), and they’re associated with ( the vast collection of vinyl records , notepads full of cryptic scribbles about stories she is working on , and her strong addiction to coffee that causes her to not be able to function without it . ). last we spoke, they were telling me about a vision they had… something about their biggest regret being ( never being able to do enough ), but it must have just been a bad dream. //  —  [ blackwell, 28 / est, she / her. ]

( lucifer , dupes not allowed.  inbar lavi , she / her , cis-female. )  ——-  hey, is that ( eve ) hanging around ( ambroise caves )? i wonder what life is like for them, balancing working as a ( thirty - seven ) year old ( florist ) and ( running into the rain like drew barrymore )? they’re notorious for being ( energetic ) yet ( emotional naive ), and i always seem to hear ( i follow rivers ) by ( lykke li ) playing whenever they walk past. they’re known around the islands for ( her endless curiosity and desire to try everything at least once ), and they’re associated with ( appletinis after a long day , dancing like absolutely nobody is watching and the stars shining bright in the night sky ). last we spoke, they were telling me about a vision they had… something about their biggest regret being ( changing herself for the love of others instead of just being who she was ), but it must have just been a bad dream. //  —  [ blackwell, 28 / est, she / her. ]

[ofthclight]

[hogarthwrites]

house sitting for two chapter one

pairing: Sam Drake/Reader (m/f)

genre: smut

warnings: alcohol use, graphic sex, daddy kink, bad dirty talk

words: 2,059

summary:

After a mix-up you find yourself house sitting with Sam.

note:

I’m back!!!

Nathan tried to ignore the looks he got as he looked for his seat on the plane. Cassie was three years old now, but she was still small enough to make other passengers sigh and shake their heads. It irked him, but he knew he was like that long ago.

“Is this it?” Elena peeped from behind his shoulder.

The tickets said seats E24, E25, E26.

“This is it,” Nathan nodded and let Elena and Cassie pass to find their seats while he stowed their bags.

“Can't believe we're finally going on this trip,” Elena happily sighed and stretched in her seat. “Three weeks in Europe without any paperwork or clients.”

“I'm just happy Sam was willing to house sit for us,” Nathan muttered as he tried handed Cassie a notebook and a crayon to distract her.

“Sam?” Elena gave him a quizzical look. “I asked (Y/N) because Sam had that thing.”

“No, you didn't, and that was cancelled anyway.”

“Nate, I left you a note on the fridge the other day about it.”

And Elena did leave that note. Unfortunately for Nathan, it flew off when he whipped the fridge door open and got lost under the fridge.

“Well, I didn't see it,” he shrugged.

“Oh, no, Nate, ” Elena fumbled for her phone. “I have to text them.”

“Hey, don't worry, they've worked together before. I'm sure they'll work it out.”

The wind gently blew in from the open window of your car as you made your way to the Drake-Fisher household. It wasn't your first time house sitting for Elena, who had become like the sister you always wished you had, and if you were being honest, staying in the beach house felt like a vacation.

You heard your phone buzz, but you were too lost in your thoughts to bother checking. It was probably just your mom, as Elena and Nathan were probably on the plane by now.

The bungalow came into view and you parked your car in front. It was automatic for you to grab your bags and make your way in.

“Aw, sweet,” you grabbed the bowl of chips and the bottle of beer on the counter and made your way to the fridge where a note was plastered on with Nathan’s handwriting.

You know the drill. Water the plants, keep the place clean, bark at introducers. Help yourself to the fridge. Keep in touch, Sam.

You squinted at the last word. Sam? The toilet flushed and you heard water running.

Sam? The man you worked with once, the man you always hooked up with on special occasions? One Night Sam?

“What are you doing here?” Sam froze as he saw you then he pointed at the bowl in your hand. “Those are mine.”

“Uh,” you were speechless at his appearance. He had a blue Hawaiian shirt printed with large orange hibiscus flowers on, unbuttoned, a pair of beige shorts, and flip flops. It was a far cry from the usual sherpa jacket, jeans, and heavy duty boots.

“You still there?” Sam snapped his fingers at you.

“Yeah,” you hugged the bowl closer to you. “Elena asked me to house sit.”

“Nice try. Nathan asked me to house sit,” he raised an eyebrow at you as he leaned against the wall.

“You're mistaken, old man,” you pulled your phone out from your pocket. “Here, I'll show you the text Elena– oh. ”

You finally saw the text she sent earlier:

Hey! Sorry, there's been a mix-up with Nate as he asked Sam to house sit as well. I'm so sorry about this. I hope you guys can figure something out.

“What?” Sam moved closer.

“So we're both house sitting,” you held your phone up for him to read the text. “Unless you want me to go.”

“What? No,” he gently put a hand on your arm. “Stay. I’m sorry about earlier, but I could use the company.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” he shrugged. “We never really got to properly connect, you know?”

“I don't know, Sam, I think we connected just fine at Jill and Bonnie’s wedding, and last Halloween, and a couple of barbecues…” You smirked, noting the slight redness that was blossoming on Sam’s cheeks. So he does get flustered.

“A few beers won't hurt,” he nudged you.

“Look,” you sighed. “All those times were fun, and you're a great lay,” you noticed a grin tug on the corners of his lips. “But if I'm gonna stay, we're going to have to lay off the sex. We're gonna be here for a while.”

“Is that all you think about?” Sam gave you a mocking grin. “I just wanted to get to know you better.”

“No, I–” this time, you were flustered, but Sam grabbed another bottle of beer and raised it up for you to clink. “Cheers?”

You clinked his bottle and chuckled. “Cheers.”

You spent the rest of the day in the sitting room, lounging around the cushions on the floor and playing Mancala. Sam was armed with an abundance of cheesy jokes, and despite your best judgment, you laughed at them all.

You learned that he loved to read and that he likes soft rock music, and in turn, you introduced him to newer music.

“ WAP? ” Sam looked confused as you played the song on your phone. “Is that an acronym or a sound?”

“Just listen,” you giggled.

Sam leaned over on the table, listening intently to the music.

“This is really catchy, by the way,” he mumbled.

Bring a bucket and a mop for this wet ass pussy.

He grinned and eventually burst out in laughter as the song progressed.

“What?” You laughed along.

“It's… It's interesting,” he was still smiling. “I like it. Wet ass pussy, huh?”

“Truly a masterpiece,” you put your phone away when the song ended and downed your beer. Sam was still leaning on the table, looking at you.

You weren’t sure if you were just imagining it, but Sam started to move closer. Alarms went off in your head, but despite it all, you still found yourself kissing him back. His lips tasted like beer and cigarettes, and you sighed as his calloused palms slid under your shirt, touching the soft skin underneath.

His skin was warm as you slid your own hand under his unbuttoned shirt, feeling his heartbeat under your fingertips. It was all too familiar and you knew all too well where this was leading.

No sex.

“Sam,” you breathed, pulling away. He leaned in to kiss you more, but you placed a hand on his chest. “We can’t do this.”

“Why?” His voice was hoarse, obvious that he wanted it as much as you did.

“Remember? No sex?” You softly pushed him away, and he lowered his head and let out a deep chuckle.

“You were being serious about that?”

“Yes, Sam, I was!” You stood up and fixed your shirt. “I’m going to bed.”

Sam could only sigh as you grabbed your bags and made your way to the spare bedroom that Elena called “work in progress”. You were grateful the room had its own bathroom so you didn’t have to go out to see Sam, but it didn’t stop you from rubbing one out in the shower, thinking about the kiss from earlier.

You cursed yourself when you finally crawled into the mattress on the floor. This was a stupid rule. Why not have sex with him? You’ve already had sex with Sam Drake countless times, right? What makes this time different?

Yeah, but I never stayed long enough to wake up in his arms. The last thing you wanted was to start having actual feelings for the man. Still…

He was just in the sitting room. You knew because you heard soft music playing from the record player. You could imagine him still sitting on those cushions, probably smoking now. Could he be thinking of you?

You got out of bed and peeked out into the hallway. Sam was definitely still there.

This is crazy. You’re crazy. You tried to drown out your thoughts as you made your way to the sitting room.

Sam was lounging on the cushions, one hand under his head and a cigarette in the other. He looked a little surprised as you stood at the doorway.

“What’s up?” He smiled as you kneeled next to him.

You caught his lips in yours, pushing him down on the cushions. He let out a grunt as you straddled him, taking his cigarette and placing it between your lips.

“What happened to the ‘no sex’ rule?” Sam smirked as his fingers lingered at the hem of your shirt.

“It’s a stupid a rule,” you smiled, taking a drag.

“I’m glad you agree,” Sam pulled you closer to kiss you.

Your shirt was the first to go as you grind your hips against his. Sam looked up at you in awe, watching you pleasure yourself while you smoked. His fingers kneaded into your breasts, pinching and pulling at your nipples.

“This is a bad idea,” you said, softly moaning as you felt him get harder in his shorts.

“We can stop,” Sam teased. “But I don't think that's what you want.”

“No. It isn't,” you put the cigarette out on the ashtray on the table then slid down to his crotch, palming the ever growing bulge. “This I want.”

You wasted no time pulling his shorts off along with his underwear, pleased at his cock, glistening with pre-cum, ready for you. You took it in your hand, squeezing it gently and you felt it throb and twitch with desire.

“Fuck, you look good,” Sam groaned as you took his manhood in your mouth. “That's right, baby.”

You swirled your tongue around his cock, savouring the taste of his pre-cum, wanting more. He groaned and bucked his hips, making you take him in deeper in your mouth. You loved how he tasted, how he looked under your control, and you felt your underwear get wet.

Sam’s fingers tangled in your hair as he pulled you up to kiss him. You squealed as he flipped you over on the cushion with ease, and he started kissing your chest and your breasts. Your underwear came off, then his shirt as Sam was desperate to feel your skin against his.

He lay on top of you, his naked chest flush against yours as he continued to kiss you. You felt his cock rub against your clit as he slowly moved his hips, trying to get a feel for you.

“Sam,” you panted as his lips moved down to your neck. “Fuck me now. Please.”

“If you insist.” Sam gave you a dark grin before lining himself up with your entrance. He pushed himself in ever so slowly, his hot breath on your neck.

“Sam, please,” you whined.

You gasped as he lurched his hips forward, slamming into you, and soon he'd set a quick pace. He sat up to put his hands on your hips, groaning at the sensation.

“Yeah, fill that pussy up,” you said, eliciting a moan from Sam.

“I'm gonna fill you up good, baby,” Sam slowed his hips to thrust into you deep and hard. “You like that, huh?”

“Yes, daddy, I love it,” you grabbed at the pillows around you.

Sam shifted you so you lay on your side, legs closed, and he growled at the tightness.

“Mmmh,” he slapped your ass. “So tight, baby.”

He set a quick pace again while you held onto the cushions. You moved your hips in time with his thrusts, your mouth hung open in pleasure, saying his name over and over like a prayer.

Sam held your legs down as you came, your loud moans filling the room, and his hips stilled. You knew he was close when he let out an animalistic growl and slammed his hips against your ass over and over until he quickly pulled out and you felt his warm seed on your ass.

You didn't even remember what happened when you finally came down from your high as your eyes grew heavy. Next thing you knew, Sam was covering you with a blanket.

“What happened?” You mumbled.

“You fell asleep, I think,” Sam put a pillow under your head.

“Oh,” you closed your eyes as your head hit the pillow again.

[trickkombowerskru]

New Fandom Addition Time!

Yup if you’ve been here for a while you know I’m Uncharted trash and too many of those animated men are too fine for me to resist the urge to write for the, anymore So from here on out you can request prompts for the following 

Nathan Drake

Sam Drake (including 19 y/o Sam)

Rafe Adler

Harry Flynn

Elena Fisher 

Chloe Frazer

Nadine Ross (prompts for her may take a bit longer simply bc I wanna make sure I keep her in character and  writing her doesn’t come to me as easy as the others)

Also like with the dumpster boys and the Losers if you want you can do a poly deal with any number of them your heart desires (EXCEPT A RELATIONSHIP COMBO WITH BOTH THE DRAKES I WON’T WRITE THAT) I’ll do it 

[olivieblake]

We have an English paper in which we can write about any academic topic or whatever and I was thinking of writing mine on expecting more from our female characters (I guess mostly in terms of a personality), especially in YA novels since that's what most people my age read, plus I was thinking of somehow including the "not like other girls" thing when its brought to life in the form of a character... anyway, do you have any thoughts/suggestions on this?

I have so much to say that I’m going to try to break it down to bullet points, okay? I’d answer in a vlog but I know you’re working on a paper that I assume is due soon, so I’ll try to be succinct and possibly (possibly!) organized.

I’ve talked before about the fallacy of scarcity, which in this case is the idea that in a male-dominated world, only a few women can succeed. This is applicable in the professional realm, of course, where women in a male-dominated field (aka historically all of them except maybe the sex industry and witchcraft) are competing for fewer spots, and therefore women must tear each other down in order to be the one to get ahead. This is a fallacy primarily because there’s no reason only a few women should succeed outside of the patriarchal system positioning us as rivals rather than allies; isolating us that way is, in a sense, a very effective subjugation (but that’s a point for another time.) In romances, this idea somehow permeates our narratives: that there are only a few good men (arguably true) and therefore we are all competing against each other for them (definitely false). 

In romances especially, there’s this idea that one woman prevails because she is a specific subset of qualities; as I mentioned in my discussion of Jane Eyre, Brontë uses Jane’s narrative to highlight how Jane is clever, devoted, headstrong, whereas other girls are not. In modern YA, the “not like other girls” character prevails because she has offbeat interests, quirky opinions, she doesn’t care how she looks, etc. (See below re: male-approved qualities.) But first of all, this is not how relationships work. You do not win someone’s affection by possessing a list of qualities that other women don’t have. That’s issue number one.

Now add in the fallacy of scarcity, aka that you are competing with other women and therefore you must be different and better in order to win. What does this do in reality? It pits women against each other. It presumes there to be more or less value in the way in which you are a woman. But consider this: why should caring about your looks be a sign of stupidity or vapidness when there are entire industries devoted to making women—and especially teen girls—feel ugly or fat or generally imperfect? This is worse for POC women who are underrepresented and criticized for their otherness, of course, but on the whole, women are targets for a marketplace of self-hatred. Adding in the internal misogyny of “I am better than this girl because my desirability meets a male standard for behavior and hers does not” is not helping us. (Besides, the “not like other girls” is usually told she’s beautiful, isn’t she? So it rather undermines the whole thing, and creates an even more impossible standard for perfection: i.e., that you should be perfect without trying.)

Elena Ferrante (by way of Lenù) says something in the Neapolitan Novels about how she’s male in her head, or essentially has taught herself to think like a man, and this is how she has succeeded in her career. This is essentially the same concept as the underlying foundation for the “not like other girls” archetype: a beautiful woman who acts and thinks like a man (and who doesn’t know she’s beautiful, of course, because vanity is a characteristic belonging to Evil Women who ultimately prey on men; yikes!! Poor, poor men). Can you see why this might be more conducive to keeping men in a position of privilege rather than contributing to us raising each other up? Men set an unrealistic standard, and for some reason, women police each other with it. We are women, with women’s experiences; there is no reason we should act or think like men, and yet for some reason we force each other into the same woman-shaped hole by shaming each other for the pieces of ourselves that don’t fit.

The last fallacy is that of the “not like other girls” being a “cool girl,” aka someone who does not have emotional needs. Someone said this brilliantly recently that there is a pervasive belief among women that in order to be worthy of being loved, you must require as little as possible. Carrie Fisher says something interesting in her autobiography about how Harrison Ford “taught her how to be casual,” which I think is a common experience for young women. Yes, boys are often conditioned to reject the “femininity” of emotion and this is equally problematic, but I’m not going to worry about them right now. I want to focus on the idea that as a result of male emotional detachment, women learn that reluctance or ambivalence to make demands is a desirable quality; i.e., they will want us more if we need them less. We are conditioned over and over—particularly as teenage girls—to need less, to demand less, to ask for less. The entire romance genre is built on this idea that a man will one day come along and save us; not from a tower (we’ve progressed at least that much) but from loneliness or desire. That there is a man who will not only know our secret wants, but also give them to us without us having to say what they are. But not only is this unreasonable to expect, it’s unhealthy for both genders. The man who can read your mind or who knows intuitively how to love you does not exist; especially if he is unpracticed in loving others.

I would argue that yes, we should honor our female characters by expecting more from our authors—more truth, more sensitivity, more awareness—but this can manifest by expecting, in some senses, less. There is no universal woman (certainly no Perfect Woman) and thus, female characters should not all feel the same. They should also be allowed to have flaws, and to grow as they go. There shouldn’t be one girl who is so different from the others that only she can be the victor; this is in some senses expecting too much, and also implying all the fallacies above. 

IN CONCLUSION (lol), true diversity is about expressing reality; not that there should be an array of female personalities because different female personalities need to be provided, but because the world is occupied by a wide variety of women who ARE deeply unique even while we are sharing the same universal human experience. The same argument goes for just about anything, gender (or nonbinary) experiences in addition to race, ethnicity, religion, culture, sexuality, etc. 

[intimatum]

intertextuality

desire / eating disorder / hunger: «to be the girl who lunges at people−wants to eat them» (letissier) / «a way to take all hungers and boil them down to their essence–one appetite to manage–just one» (knapp)

trauma / trauma theory / visceralities of trauma

writers

ada limón, adrienne rich, agnès varda, alana massey, alejandra pizarnik, alice notley, ana božičević, anaïs nin, andrea dworkin, andrew solomon, angela carter, angélica freitas, angélica liddell, ann cvetkovich, anna akhmatova, anna gien, anne boyer, anne carson, anne sexton, anne waldman, antonella anedda, aracelis girmay, ariana reines, audre lorde, aurora linnea

barbara ehrenreich, bell hooks, bessel van der kolk

carmen maria machado, caroline knapp, carrie lorig, cat marnell, catharine mackinnon, catherynne m. valente, cathy caruth, césar vallejo, chris kraus, christa wolf, clarice lispector, claudia rankine, czesław miłosz

daniel borzutzky, daphne du maurier, daphne gottlieb, david foster wallace, david wojnarowicz, dawn lundy martin, deirdre english, denise levertov, detlev claussen, dodie bellamy, don paterson, donna tartt, dora gabe, dorothea lasky, durs grünbein

édouard levé, eike geisel, eileen myles, elaine kahn, elena ferrante, elisabeth rank, elyn r. saks, emily dickinson, erica jong, esther perel, etty hillesum, eve kosofsky sedgwick

fanny howe, félix guattari, fernando pessoa, fiona duncan, frank bidart, franz kafka

gabriele schwab, gail dines, georg büchner, georges bataille, gertrude stein, gilles deleuze, gillian flynn, gretchen felker-martin

hannah arendt, hannah black, heather christle, heather o'neill, heiner müller, hélène cixous, héloïse letissier, henryk m. broder, herbert hindringer, herbert marcuse

ingeborg bachmann, iris murdoch

jacques derrida, jacques lacan, jade sharma, jamaica kincaid, jean améry, jean baudrillard, jean rhys, jeanann verlee, jeanette winterson, jenny slatman, jenny zhang, jerold j. kreisman, jess zimmerman, jia tolentino, joachim bruhn, joan didion, joanna russ, joanna walsh, johanna hedva, john berger, jörg fauser, joy harjo, joyce carol oates, judith butler, judith herman, julia kristeva, june jordan, junot díaz

karen barad, kate zambreno, katherine mansfield, kathrin weßling, kathy acker, katy waldman, kay redfield jamison, kim addonizio

lacy m. johnson, larissa pham, lauren berlant, le comité invisible, leslie jamison, lidia yuknavitch, linda gregg, lisa diedrich, louise glück, luce irigaray, lynn melnick

maggie nelson, margaret atwood, marguerite duras, marie howe, marina tsvetaeva, mark fisher, martha gellhorn, mary karr, mary oliver, mary ruefle, marya hornbacher, max horkheimer, melissa broder, michael ondaatje, michel foucault, miranda july, miya tokumitsu, monique wittig, muriel rukeyser

naomi wolf, natalie eilbert, natasha lennard, nelly arcan

ocean vuong, olivia laing, ottessa moshfegh

paisley rekdal, patricia lockwood, paul b. preciado, paul celan, peggy phelan

rachel aviv, rainald goetz, rainer maria rilke, rebecca solnit, richard moskovitz, richard siken, robert jensen, roland barthes, ronald d. laing

sady doyle, sally rooney, salma deera, samuel beckett, samuel salzborn, sandra cisneros, sara ahmed, sara sutterlin, sarah kane, sarah manguso, scherezade siobhan, sean bonney, sheila jeffreys, shoshana felman, shulamith firestone, sibylle berg, silvia federici, simone de beauvoir, simone weil, siri hustvedt, solmaz sharif, sophinette becker, soraya chemaly, stephan grigat, susan bordo, susan sontag, suzanne scanlon, sylvia plath

theodor w. adorno, thomas brasch, tiqqun, toni morrison

ursula k. le guin

valerie solanas, virginia l. blum, virginia woolf, virginie despentes

walter benjamin, wisława szymborska, wolfgang herrndorf, wolfgang pohrt

zadie smith, zan romanoff, zoë lianne, zora neale hurston

[satin-swallow]

‘After Dinner’ || A Review || 27 April 2018

State Theatre Company of South Australia

Dir.  Corey McMahon 

starring Nathan Page, Elena Carapetis, Jude Henshall, Ellen Steele & Rory Walker

“... an unintentional period piece, reflecting the rapidly-changing nature of human relationships, and a slightly dark portent of things to come in the self-centered world of social media, and online image editing.”   

After State Theatre’s delightful ‘The 39 Steps’, I walked into the Dunstan Playhouse on Friday night expecting to see - however brilliantly-executed - another star vehicle for Nathan Page (Miss Fisher’s Murder Mysteries, Underbelly: Squizzy) designed to bring television audiences to the theatre. 

What I got instead was a punch to the gut, and several times over! 

Those familiar with the work of playwright Andrew Bovell (The Secret River, When the Rain Stops Falling) will know that he can hit an audience with life-defining truths in all manner of ways, using laughter and tears with equal precision. ‘After Dinner’ is no exception, and while humour seems to be his weapon of choice at first glance, the sight of “Plain Jane” Dympie (Jude Henshall) climbing on top of a table in a self-destructive fit of stubbornness and declaring herself to be the “loneliest woman in the world!” is enough to tear any heart to shreds.      

Loneliness, it seems, is the underlying theme of ‘After Dinner’, which tells the tale of five average Aussies at a local bistro: each of them out of luck in love, and hoping that the ambience of the after-dinner band will even-out their chances of finding a little human contact for the night. While they cover the gamut of social stereotypes from Page’s Stephen - a lothario with an embarassing little secret - to Elena Carapetis’ Monika - who may not be at all the grieving widow she first appears - it is clear that the devastating labyrinth of the dating world is no respecter of persons - or personas. 

For that is what we see as each character is introduced with an image chock-full of baggage. In addition to the others already described, Paula (Ellen Steele) is the fatally dressed, but fatefully kind darling, who longs to be noticed by the earnest, newly-divorced Gordon (Rory Walker), who may have more chivalry than sense when it comes to the play’s end. Each of them is designed within an inch of their lives by costume designer Jonathon Oxlade, in polaroids of eighties archetypes that cannot help but evoke a set of dire assumptions from every audience member.   

Bovell notes himself, in the program, that the piece has aged dramatically from the snappy social satire it started out as; indeed, it is almost hallmark of the kind of historical Australian comedy that crudely and aggressively takes aim at social mores in the style of David Williamson’s ‘Don’s Party’. It would be a mistake however, to think that the ageing makes ‘After Dinner’ irrelevant. 

In fact, Corey McMahon’s directing has the cruel result of turning the spotlight on the current state of dating affairs - where the likes of Tindr and Grindr have the floor - and unveiling how horrifically easy it is to know nothing about a person beneath the shallow assumptions of our own unsatisfied desires. 

This insight is bleak by the light of day, and has the effect of turning this hysterical, and irreverent snapshot into an unintentional period piece, reflecting the rapidly-changing nature of human relationships, and a slightly dark portent of things to come in the self-centered world of social media, and online image editing.   

The cast is simply breathtaking in this impeccably-skilled little ensemble, and Nathan Page, while delivering a striking and heart-breaking performance with twists that immediately upend all expectations, in no way overshadows his co-stars. It is always wonderful to see someone of renown ease simply back into the teamwork that defines good theatre. 

Equally brilliant was Jude Henshall as Dympie, the character closest to my heart in terms of self-identification - a veritable mess of perfectionism, who uses criticism to feel valuable, and begins quickly losing the game in a spiral of social panic. Her performance is monumental, and so fantastically represents social anxiety at a time when it was not yet quite understood. 

The highlight of my night, however, must be State Theatre’s Resident Artist Elena Carapetis as Monika - her portrayal is flawless, equal parts hilarity and utter soul-shattering. Her delivery of a monologue, describing a rather interesting trip to the bathroom, is a masterpiece of storytelling, and I was moved to tears multiple times by the tale of this woman struggling to find her identity in amongst the labyrinth. 

All in all, the night was a triumph - while wholly unexpected and bordering on the painfully self-aware - and I cannot compliment it highly-enough.    

Congratulations to all! 

[shambhalala]

Mistletoe (Uncharted Headcanons)

Hey guys!

My good friend @heroes-x-thieves gave me the idea for some Uncharted character headcanons that fits with this wonderful time of year, so I hope you enjoy them!

What would they do if they were under the mistletoe with you?

Nathan Drake

This adorable man loves any excuse to show his partner a bit of affection. Chances are, he’s the one dragging you two underneath the mistletoe in the first place.

“Honey, look! It’s fate!” “Uh, Nate, I don’t think it counts if you dragged us underneath it” “Well, I’m countin’ it in my book. C’mere!”

His confidence is almost a little embarrassing at first; what must everyone around you think?

But that embarrassment disappears the second you stare into those kind, blue eyes. They’re brimming with love and adoration, all for you. How can you possibly deny a look like that?

He sensed your slight unease, so he places one hand on the back of your head, making you feel safe and secure, before capturing your lips in a soft kiss.

He draws back a little, expecting that you’ll want the public display of affection to be over as soon as possible, but is pleasantly surprised when you lean in again, bringing your hands to his jaw to keep him there.

His eyes are sparkling with bliss once your lips disconnect. “Merry Christmas. I love you”.

Samuel Drake

As much as Sam adores his partner, he likes to play it a little smoother than his younger brother. He gently edges you two underneath the mistletoe, and pretends not to notice it at first.

He waits for you to point it out, and when you do, his eyebrows shoot up in mock surprise, eyes comically wide.

“Sam, there’s mistletoe above us”. “Oh, there is? Huh, so there is. How remarkable”.

You two smile at each other; he obviously planned this. Blush creeps onto your cheeks whilst Sam appears cool as a cucumber, head tilted and one eyebrow cocked.

Sam decides to move your awkwardly cute staring contest to the next level, and gently cups your face with both of his hands, pressing his lips to yours gently.

As you two melt into each other, he guesses you’re pretty comfortable, so he nibbles your bottom lip, just to get your heart racing.

“Merry Christmas, sweetheart. There’s more where that came from, if you’ll have me”.

Victor Sullivan

This man has seen (and probably performed, let’s be honest) every cliché in the book, so any mistletoe you two find yourselves under is by complete accident.

Sully looks up and frowns at first, mistaking it for a weed. “Who in the hell lets weeds grow on the goddamn ceiling?”

Once you tell him what it is, his eyebrows are up with an elongated “ooooh”, followed by a brief awkward silence.

He looks at you, and you swear there’s a tiny smile peeking out from underneath that moustache of his. You’re blushing in anticipation of what’s going to happen.

Without a word, Sully leans forward, puts one hand on your shoulder, and gently plants a kiss on your forehead.

“Y’know I’m not one for celebrations, but… what the hell. Merry Christmas, darlin’”.

Charlie Cutter (I FORGOT TO INCLUDE CUTTER IN MY MENTAL HEALTH HEADCANONS I’M SO SORRY)

Charlie’s a smart man. The second he sees that mistletoe above you two, coupled with your radiant gaze, all that intelligence suddenly becomes very… scrambled.

“Oh. Uh. Right. Yes. Mistletoe. Poisonous, I believe. People normally, uh… kiss, underneath it?”

You giggle and nod encouragingly, which seems to calm his nerves. He scratches the back of his head nervously and looks anywhere except at you, until he can’t avoid his desires any longer.

“Bollocks to it. C’mere, sweetheart”.

His hands are warm on either side of your face as he eagerly plants his lips on yours, making your breath cease in your throat.

Your heads are spinning, and neither of you want this to stop. When it eventually does, Charlie has the most peaceful smile on his face that you’ve ever seen.

“Merry Christmas, love. Seems I uh… have very good taste”.

Rafe Adler

As cool and collected as he likes to appear, Rafe isn’t always the most observant of men. You two are busy chatting away when you collapse into a fit of giggles, pointing to the plant dangling above your heads. Rafe looks up in confusion, blinking in astonishment when he realises what it is

“Awh, Rafe, look! Mistletoe!” “How in the- well, whatever. Let’s get this over with”.

He doesn’t mean it maliciously; he just doesn’t like being told what to do, especially by a plant, damn it.

He leans in and hooks two fingers under your chin, pressing his lips to yours softly. The kiss lasts a little longer than you expected, not that you mind; Rafe must be enjoying showing the world that you are his, despite his initial reservations.

His hand lingers underneath your chin even once the kiss has ended, and he stares into your eyes lovingly.

“Merry Christmas, my little diamond”.

Harry Flynn

This man is so smooth and cocky that he puts Sam to shame. He spots the mistletoe from a mile away, and makes it his damn mission to get you two under it before you can say “jingle bells”.

Once you’re under, the fun is only just beginning for Flynn. He points upwards, then, with the most shit-eating grin you’ve ever seen, he says “looks like it’s your lucky day, love”.

Before you know it, you’re bending over backwards as he scoops you into his arms and leans over you, giving you the biggest smooch of your life before you can draw a single breath.

You’re too staggered to even feel anything. He pulls away and keeps you in the same position for a few more seconds, revelling in your surprised expression. That smug grin never leaves his face as he helps you regain your composure.

“Now, was that the best Christmas present ever, or do I have to show you again?”

Elena Fisher

Not normally one for slacking off on the job, you were surprised that Elena even noticed the mistletoe in the first place.

Her eyes widen and she grins in delight, turning to you with expectant puppy eyes.

“Just a quick one? Please? Then we’ll get back to work!”

Like you would ever deny her, especially with a look like that. You smile, lean in, and peck her lips gently.

Elena isn’t just a romantic, though; she knows what she’s doing. She brings one hand to the side of your face just to keep you there a little longer, knowing you’ll happily oblige.

Her eyes are sparkling with love and a hint of mischief when she pulls away, her hand lingering on the side of your face.

“Not bad for a mistletoe kiss, I’d give you at least a six”. “A six?!” “Well, you can always try again, see if you can do better”.

Chloe Frazer

Chloe isn’t one for heroics or romance, so when you two spot the mistletoe, she declares a race.

“Last one there buys drinks!” she calls, already five steps ahead of you.

You’re panting by the time you get there, and Chloe is stood victoriously with her hands on her hips, laughing at you.

“Well well, sunshine, looks like it’s my turn to take the reins” she states, already wrapping her arms around your neck.

Your lips collide before you can even catch your breath, her tongue invading your mouth in her usual flirtatious manner.

She breaks away just as you begin to crave more, leaving you panting out of more than just exertion. This woman really knows how to drive you crazy.

“Merry Christmas, love. So, drinks are on you then?”

Nadine Ross

Nadine Ross is possibly the sweetest but most romantically oblivious person you have ever known, so any little romantic gestures you educate her on are very special to the both of you.

Surprisingly, Nadine spots the mistletoe before you do.

“That plant, I know that. Mistletoe, right?” (she’s not just an animal nerd, people).

You nod, and she smiles knowingly, her eyes softening as she stares at you through hooded eyelids. She obviously knows all about this particular tradition.

You two lean in at the same time and your lips touch softly. It’s tender and sweet as always, but you feel your heart swelling in your chest at how she didn’t even need your help this time.

“Always wondered why a plant meant so much to people, but I’m startin’ to get it now”.

I hope you all enjoyed that! Also, I apologise for not including Asav in this; I know some of you like him, but I honestly could not come up with any ideas for his character for this headcanon. I hope you understand!

Happy holidays!

[rebuildhq]

Jamie Chung || Karen Page || 30 || Cisfemale || Fagan Corners, VT || Journalist || N/A || PLAYED BY ALICIA

biography:

Born in small town Fagan Corners, Vermont, Karen Page’s life was relatively sheltered growing up. She knew her neighbours, there were no big, incredible scandals unless you witnessed them on TV. An exciting day was participating in cheerleading – which Karen did plenty of once she hit her teenage years – or drinking down by the lake in a borrowed vehicle. Growing up, Karen was always in the pursuit of more, she poured herself into her education in order to leave Fagan Corners.

One of few sources of tension within Karen’s smalltown was her refusal to conform to her parents’ Christianity. Because of that specific rebellion, Paxton and Penelope Page favoured her brother, Kevin. All throughout her youth she expressed the desire to stop being forced to attend church, though she was always careful to respect her family’s beliefs. Unfortunately, her protests were ignored, and until she turned thirteen, she was attending services, prohibited from attending art classes like she wanted to on Sunday mornings or learning languages that would aid her in possible future careers. Aware that it was a minor grievance, Karen was careful not to complain excessively. Her parents were well off, something very few Americans could say, particularly in a small town, and she was participating in one of few sports Fagan Corners offered.

In her senior year of high school, Karen’s brother, Kevin was in a car accident that lead him to Windler Medical Centre where Kevin was pronounced dead. Naturally, she began skipping classes, and during the police investigation, Karen began one of her own, questioning police officers on the case and doctors that may have been assigned to Kevin’s care, assuming he had survived. When the police resolved the investigation, deeming it an accident, Karen had no other choice but to stop her own and attend the funeral and following services.

A few weeks before graduation, once it was sure that Karen’s grades wouldn’t suffer horribly, she left for New York City. Her parents were furious, claiming that she abandoned them, but Karen was resolute about putting herself first. Without accommodations or a career, she quickly blew through the funds she had collected (and the little her parents put away for university), and Karen ended up in dead end jobs despite working hard throughout high school to ensure a big future.

Although it was unfortunate and Karen was absolutely overwhelmed the vastness of New York, she quickly fell into a rhythm, and found an apartment that she could afford with a roommate. She began taking some night school classes and worked during the day, and though she never forgot Kevin, it was a far better life (in her opinion) than she would have had in Fagan Corners.

Years later, officially graduated with a Bachelor’s Degree in journalism and dreams to attend law school, Karen ended up working as a secretary for Union Allied Construction. When she was emailed with a file containing damning evidence, she trusted a coworker, Daniel Fisher, and invited him for drinks. Unfortunately, that lead to Karen being drugged and with no memory of the night, she awoke covered in Daniel’s blood, and was immediately arrested despite never committing the crime.

Days later, Nelson & Murdock took on her case, believing that Karen was innocent. This ultimately lead to her charges being dropped and Karen working as Nelson & Murdock’s secretary. Although she wasn’t a lawyer in any official capacity, Karen was studious with their clients, ensuring that every detail was accounted for in cases and within their clients’ background. She had always believed in justice, and finally having the opportunity to defend people’s basic rights was a dream for her. Despite the good, she was terrified for her safety, her view of the world shaken by the entire ordeal.

Unfortunately, that wasn’t the end of trauma for Karen. She witnessed the death of her friend, Elena, and was kidnapped by James Wesley during Nelson & Murdock’s pursuit of Wilson Fisk, an ultimately failed operation, and an experience that left Karen thoroughly traumatized. It wasn’t her first time grieving deeply, and once again, she went through the motions to rebuild herself alongside her friends.

After seeing no justice served once more, Karen was more resolute in her pursuit of the truth, and the Punisher case ignited that fire within her. Obsessively, she sought information about Frank Castle, uncovering a deeply corrupt plan to use his arrest to gain political power. As her life at Nelson & Murdock began falling apart due to their failed case, Karen was determined to pursue her interests in serving justice through the truth, something New York sorely lacked.

When the Superhero Registration Act formed, Karen was vocally opposed to the treatment of vigilantes. This, and her uncovered story about Frank Castle, lead to Karen earning a position as an investigative journalist with the New York Bulletin. Without hesitation, she accepted the job, and began publishing conflicting articles about the moral integrity of the Registration Act, and later, detailed profiles on the superheroes that dared to come forward. It wasn’t exactly what Karen planned for herself, but it was where New York lead her, and it was fighting for the truth and a just cause.

The Skrull War came as little surprise to Karen. After seeing how deeply corrupt their government was, an alien infiltrating and orchestrating horrible, horrible policies seemed completely realistic. Terrified but stubborn, Karen began investigating politicians who could have potentially been infiltrated by the aliens. It was reckless and absolutely dangerous, but she was about finding the truth, and about protecting whomever she could.

Miraculously, Karen survived the war and asking pervasive questions. Currently, she’s investigating Doom’s position as president, an election few people seem to recall in great detail. She’s still estranged from Nelson & Murdock, missing her friends greatly, and attempting to report the truth no matter the personal cost.

[rixareth]

Female character meme!

List 10 ladies you love, from 10 different fandoms and tag people.

I was tagged by @academicgangster! LET'S DO THIS. Warning: I am going to talk for far too long. I have tried very hard not to solely name videogame characters.

- Ellie, from The Last of Us. What a great character. The Last of Us doesn't work if it's only a story about Joel learning to love Ellie; it has to be a story about you learning to love Ellie as well, and I absolutely do love Ellie, because Ellie is great. She's not fearless; she's afraid, but she's prepared to do what has to be done in spite of that fear. She's been through a lot, but she's not entirely jaded; she's still capable of wonder, she can still appreciate beauty. She's slow to trust without being incapable of trusting. She's got a weakness for terrible puns. She's such a bright spot when you're trudging through the apocalypse. I was delighted when I caught her trying to keep her balance along the edge of a kerb.

- Yuna, from Final Fantasy X: the story of a selfless young woman's journey to discover that, hey, sometimes it's okay to be selfish. She's constantly setting her own life and her own desires aside for the sake of others, and I love it when she finally plants her feet and goes, no, this system is terrible, I'm going to fight it for myself and the people I care about. She's not physically strong, she can seem a bit of a pushover at first glance, but she's got the most incredible strength of character.

- Rachel, from Animorphs. As a kid in the nineties, I was so starved for female representation, for female characters who actually got to do things, that I remember getting really excited about how powerful the queen was in chess. And then along came Rachel. She was unlike me in pretty much every respect, but she still made a big impact. Here was this gorgeous blonde girl, she was athletic, she was interested in fashion, she was everything I'd been told was 'feminine', she was INCREDIBLY BLOODTHIRSTY and absolutely thrived when she was thrown into a horrible war against mind-controlling aliens. I was more of a Cassie myself, but I was absolutely awed by Rachel.

- Korra, from The Legend of Korra. I prefer Avatar: The Last Airbender to The Legend of Korra by quite a long way, but I absolutely adore Korra as a character: this hot-headed, proud, fundamentally good-hearted young woman with an uncontrollable drive to make terrible decisions.

- Elena Fisher, from Uncharted. Bold, smart, adventurous, sharp-tongued. My favourite moment in the entire Uncharted series is the part where you're playing Crash Bandicoot and Elena is just making fun of you the entire time. I would have been perfectly happy if Uncharted 4 had been nothing but that.

- Teresa Lisbon, from The Mentalist. Listing Elena's good qualities reminded me of how much I loved Lisbon! They've got a fair amount in common, although Lisbon's a little more cautious. One of my favourite moments is where Jane needs the charges against a suspect dropped, and eventually he admits it to Lisbon - 'I couldn't tell you earlier, I didn't want to put you in danger' - and Lisbon just goes, 'You're an idiot. Let's go,' and gets the charges dropped by flat-out punching the suspect in the face in front of his lawyer.

- Utena Tenjou, from Revolutionary Girl Utena (the anime). I need to rewatch this; it's been too long! My fondness for Utena comes from the same place as my fondness for Korra: I've got a real weakness for bold, good-hearted, slightly cocky characters who make awful, awful decisions (this is also where my fondness for Mike Munroe of Until Dawn comes from).

- Mahiru Koizumi, from Danganronpa 2. In a cast of over-the-top characters, she felt very real and helped to keep things grounded. I loved that she always stood up to Kuzuryuu if she felt he was trying to bully the others, too; she absolutely refused to be intimidated. It's interesting to me that she buys very strongly into traditional gender roles without entirely fitting into them herself; she's outspoken in a way that doesn't strike me as 'traditionally feminine'. I also (inevitably) enjoy the fact that she's privately insecure and haunted by a terrible decision she made in her past.

- Mary Read, from Assassin's Creed: Black Flag. I love that she just mocks Edward non-stop; I love that she appears to be in the habit of casually patting him on the arse before he even knows she's a woman; I love the cutscene after he learns her true identity, where her motions have the subtext 'ooh, look at how close to you I'm getting! am I going to kiss you? am I??? NOPE AHAHAHA PSYCH.' The moment where she and Anne Bonny are arrested for piracy and go 'lol, you can't execute us, we're both pregnant' is absolutely magical (and historically accurate!).

- Donna Noble, from Doctor Who. Brave and kind and spirited and hilarious, and unhesitatingly prepared to stand up to the Doctor. She could so easily have been a shallow, exaggerated comic character, but she turned out to be something wonderful. She made me care about Doctor Who again when I'd fallen out of love with it.

I'm not good at tagging, but I tag anyone who's reading this and going 'hey, I want to talk about my favourite female characters as well!'

[junker-town]

The W Is It: Here’s how the Mystics’ best-ever WNBA offense works

Elena Delle Donne is the key to the Mystics’ historic offense … just not the way you’d expect.

The Washington Mystics are WNBA flamethrowers that even the second-hottest team in the league couldn’t slow down. The latest high-profile victim: the Los Angeles Sparks, who the Mystics crushed, 95-66, in what was supposed to be a potential Finals preview. That was Washington’s 11th win by 20 points or more out of 31 games. Three of those wins were against the projected No. 2, No. 3 and No. 4 seeds in the playoffs.

Before the game, the Sparks were 7-2 in August, with the league’s second-best net rating and best defense of all teams in the month of August. But the Mystics’ offense tore them to shreds on 54 percent shooting before a full quarter of garbage time.

New Sparks head coach Derek Fisher was defeated while speaking to reporters postgame.

“I don’t think any of [the Mystics’] lineups were better than another,” Fisher said. “They were just better from top to bottom. It didn’t matter whether it was their starting group, big lineup, etc. They were just better.”

The Mystics are the perfect whole of carefully constructed parts, which is why one lineup feels just as powerful as the rest. They’re built around the league’s presumptive MVP and a Hall of Famer-to be in 6’5 Elena Delle Donne, but Washington’s record-breaking offensive system isn’t dependent on her to carry the load. That’s what makes them special.

When Delle Donne is cut off, the ball moves and moves and moves until it lands in the hands of one of D.C.’s deep-ball shooters. That’s something the Sparks learned the hard way after three quarters, as Washington sunk 10 out of 23 deep-ball looks.

In fact, L.A’s zest to shut down Delle Donne played right into the Mystics’ hands. All year, L.A.’s loaded bodies to other teams’ stars, gambling that any team’s second- or third-best scorer won’t beat them from distance. That’s a sensible approach given how much better a WNBA All-Star is compared to a contributing piece to her team.

But you can’t guard the Mystics like any other team in the league. Shutting off Delle Donne’s scoring options only makes her and her team of balanced scorers stronger.

The Mystics are not only on pace to take and make more three-point shots than any other team in WNBA history (nine on 25 tries), but they’re also historically careful with the ball. They’re on pace to set a league record with just 14.6 percent of their possessions resulting in turnovers, and set another league record with an assist ratio of 19.3 percent. Top to bottom, the Mystics are stacked with great and willing passers who buy into head coach Mike Thibault’s system.

When the Mystics set the record for most three-point makes in a game (18) against the Indiana Fever last month, eight players out of a roster of 11 contributed buckets from the perimeter. Thirty of the team’s 37 field goal makes on that night were assisted. Everyone in Washington’s rotation is capable of stepping out beyond the arc, minus board-crashing defensive big LaToya Sanders.

Double teams are hardly effective for a team this crisp with the ball.

The Mystics’ offense plants one big down low, sends a second, more versatile big to roam, and spreads three guards at the top of the key and corners. Quick passes see three or more players touch the ball before threes are launched, leaving little time for defenders to recover off switches or doubles.

That’s why Washington had no trouble when L.A. sent its best defender, Nneka Ogwumike, to suffocate Delle Donne out to the 3-point arc. On each drive, the Sparks collapsed into the paint in an attempt to force the ball out of Delle Donne’s hands. But the Mystics value threes more than any team in the league, so D.C. spread its guards a step further beyond the line and happily obliged with L.A.’s desire for Delle Donne to move the ball on. That difference made it tough for L.A. to close out in time.

The best example of what makes the Mystics so impossible to guard came in the second quarter, when the Sparks attempted to double Delle Donne as she drove towards the paint. As Ogwumike came off Ariel Atkins to assist Candace Parker and pin Delle Donne, Sparks guard Chelsea Gray had to replace her to get a hand in front of Atkins, a 36-percent shooter from deep. With everyone out of rotation, Sanders slipped to the basket and caught an accurate Atkins pass for what could’ve been a layup.

But this is the most lethal offensive team in history, so Sanders passed it all the way back out after Parker and Ogwumike abandoned Delle Donne to instead protect the rim. Then came an EDD splash so predictable, Mystics guard Natasha Cloud already started walking back on defense before the shot went up.

lol good luck guarding the mystics pic.twitter.com/hh6TFTEtV1

— jack (@jackhaveitall) August 27, 2019

“They really move the ball,” Sparks star and Hall-of-Famer-to-be Candace Parker, said after the game. “They do a good job of finding each other. Natasha Cloud drives with the intention of not scoring, but kicking out. And we weren’t able to stop the penetration early. We were constantly in rotation.”

It was rinse, repeat all night, even with Washington’s second All-Star, Kristi Toliver, missing due to injury.

Washington’s historic run is in part highlighted by Delle Donne’s quest to become the third WNBA player ever to shoot 50 percent from the field, 40 percent from the three-point line and 90 percent from the line. But though Delle Donne is Washington’s top offensive option, her usage rate is just 25.1 percent, No. 12 in the league. In fact, Delle Donne’s teammates get far more open simply playing alongside her, due to the attention she attracts with or without the ball. There’s a reason why Cloud leads the locker room in an echo chamber of goat noises in her direction after every win.

With defenders constantly thinking about where Delle Donne’s headed, the other four players have more room to operate. It’s no wonder wing Aerial Powers, in her first full season with the team, is producing the most efficient numbers of her career: 12 points on 38 percent three-point shooting on four tries per game. For comparison, she shot 27 percent on half the attempts with the Dallas Wings the year before.

The Washington Mystics are the best team in the WNBA because every player in their rotation was made to thrive in an offense based on three-point shooting, spacing, and passing. It works perfectly because the team has one of the most efficient, unicorn-esque stars in league history, but her teammates can operate with a similar effectiveness even when she’s the decoy.

Good luck stopping these Mystics.

And now for more fun stuff

NCAA legend Kelsey Plum came back at the perfect time

The Aces have been struggling, and last week Plum was moved to the bench. The team’s offense hadn’t been in sync for weeks, and a Saturday night matchup between Vegas and the L.A. Sparks had serious playoff implications.

That’s where Plum came to life, scoring 17 fourth-quarter points to push Vegas back to No. 3 in the playoff standings. She was electric!

of @Kelseyplum10's 20 PT | 5 AST performance.#DoubleDown pic.twitter.com/MufoGrxsb5

— Las Vegas Aces (@LVAces) September 1, 2019

She teared after the game, and it was an incredible moment.

what an incredible moment for kelsey plum pic.twitter.com/YT9G2T62tI

— Matt Ellentuck (@mellentuck) September 1, 2019

A shoutout to legends making no-look passes

Please watch Candace Parker:

OH MY @Candace_Parker! BEHIND THE HEAD #GoSparks #LeadTheCharge pic.twitter.com/5bLytpWhBX

— Los Angeles Sparks (@LA_Sparks) August 29, 2019

And then Diana Taurasi:

THE GOAT IS DOING GOAT THINGS. HOW. #SCTop10 pic.twitter.com/ED6Lfytjiz

— Phoenix Mercury (@PhoenixMercury) August 27, 2019

GOATS!

There’s one week until the playoffs get rolling

We don’t officially know the order yet, but our eight teams are locked in:

1. Washington Mystics 2. Connecticut Sun 3. Las Vegas Aces 4. Los Angeles Sparks 5. Chicago Sky 6. Minnesota Lynx 7. Seattle Storm 8. Phoenix Mercury

Let’s GOOOO!

[variety-hour]

D&D Character Backstory: Jimothy “Jimmy” Gershwin-Fisher

Physical description: Medieval fantasy cowboy realness. Wears a lilac stetson, dark yellow shirt with lavender leather vest, wine colored fingerless gloves, orange belt with gold buckle, greyish lavender pants, wine colored boots with orange straps and gold buckles. Recently acquired an empathic purple cloak named Priscilla Queen of the Desert.

Jimmy is the illegitimate son of an unknown elf woman and the human Harvey Gershwin, an accomplished artificer who “worked” his way to the top of the corporate ladder at his father-in-law’s business. When Harvey told Jimmy the story of his birth, he said an elf witch enchanted him. When the witch’s lust resulted in pregnancy, she gave Harvey the choice of rescuing the child or leaving it to die in the Black Forest. Harvey and his wife, Elena Fisher were unable to conceive, so they took his bastard son in, “saving” his life in the process.

Jimmy was  raised by his goblin nanny Girbna. She taught him to speak goblin at a young age. Every morning Girbna would sit Jimmy down and look him in the eyes and say, “you is kind, you is smart, you is important,” a refrain that Jimmy repeats to himself to this day. The goblin staff at the estate were much friendlier than the goblins from the songs and stories. They were so refined that they wore beautiful servant’s robes and a beautiful steel collar with the family sigil on it.

Elena resented Jimmy, a bastard born of black magic. To add insult to injury, Jimmy is the heir to the Fisher Forges Company. Elena’s father, Chadsworth Fisher, gave the company to Harvey as dowry for their wedding. Harvey was always away on business trips, so he didn’t really spend too much time with Jimmy. The only time all three of them were together was on holidays..

Jimmy grew up in luxury, knowing nothing else, he had no desire to change that. In time, he would take over the company after his father, an action that would lend a great deal of cultural significance in their native Norseheim. He attended University of Norseheim where he majored in mercantilism and economics, with a minor in goblin studies. It took him 5 years to finish because he kept taking electives in the arts, particularly theatre and dance. Girbna said that his appreciation for the arts probably came from his elf heritage. One class in particular stands out as particularly formative: Poetry of Dance. The class was taught by Professor Faulon Deslys, a wood elf from the far south. Faulon took a liking to Jimmy, who showed a great deal of grace and power in his movements. The most common rumor is that before Faulon came to work at the university, he roamed the continent working for a noble aarakocran family. He was part of their security detail and wielded twin swords which he was able to imbue with magic. It wasn’t until Jimmy received private instruction did he learn that Faulon was an accomplished bladesinger. Faulon passed on the bladesong tradition to Jimmy, though Jimmy was competent with rapiers, he ultimately mastered the whip. Faulon called him a stormsinger, when Jimmy engaged in his whipsong he would move calmly and in the words of Faulon, he’d “strike like lightning and crack like thunder”.

 Whlie in college he learned forgery and sold fake IDs to his fellow students. His forging skills culminated in being able to forge his own scroll of pedigree and hide the fact that he’s a bastard. He’s not ashamed of being a bastard necessarily, but having something other than a ring to back up his nobility made for a more enjoyable social experience. Alongside his forgery, he learned how to pick locks and disarm traps and alarms, a skill that came in handy when he needed an original document to copy from.

After he finished his studies, Jimmy returned to the family estate which was near the edge of the Black Forest. He often took unaccompanied walks through the grounds at night. On one such walk during a full moon, Jimmy heard sounds coming from the direction of the forest. He climbed over the estate walls and walked towards the forest. As he got closer the sounds took shape. It was music, like he’d never heard before, and laughter, like he’d never heard before. He got to the edge of the forest and sat on the ground to listen. There were songs about journeys to far off lands and creatures he’s never heard of. Then it went silent. From deep in the forest he heard the plucking of something like a lute but not quite a lute, it sounded like it was dipped in honey. All the previous songs were joyous or heroic. This one was rather somber. A rest in the music, then a voice. The most beautiful voice he’d ever heard.  Jimmy was entranced by the raspy, haunting male voice. He was standing suddenly. The darkness seemed to grow around him, his heart racing as the melody pulled at him. There was only the music and the moon. The lute was plucked loudly. The song continued. Words rolled out of Jimmy’s mouth as if he’d written the song, but as he let out that first syllable the music vanished. He waited. It was gone, and he was the deepest he had ever been in the forest. He ran back to the estate. The sun would rise in a few hours and the household would start to wake. He rushed to pack some of his belongings. As he put on his cloak, the pendant fastener broke. He was startled at the sound of a familiar voice, ���You’ll be needing this, young master”. Girbna was standing across the room holding out a brooch. A circular stone the color of steel, with a crescent moon and sun carved into it. He fastened his cloak, and like that, he left.

Weeks after his departure, Harvey was able to get a message to Jimmy demanding him to return and fulfill his duty to his family. Should he not return within a month a bounty would be put on him. But none of that mattered. Nothing mattered but the song from the forest.