When I’m sick I find there are fewer happier places to hang out than in rhi’s uncharted tag.
Uncharted Meme (2/8 friendships and otps) - Nathan Drake & Elena Fisher
Elena Fisher is my idol. The way she hurls herself into danger for in pursuit of the truth and to help the oppressed — that’s real heroism. No wonder Nate falls in love with her. How could you not? I mean Nate might be the action star, but Elena is the actual action hero.
(via rhiannon42)
Chloe: Oh.
Nathan: ‘Oh’, what?
Chloe: She broke your heart.
Nathan: Oh, please.
Chloe: She did. didn’t she?
Nathan: Y’know what? Maybe I broke hers.
Chloe: Oh yes, Casanova.
When Nate shoves Elena against the pillar (that final GIF), the look on Elena’s face is so unbelievably hot it sparked the ship that launched a thousand OTP feels.
(via fuckyeahuncharted)
Writer’s Block
A picture says a thousand words. Write them.
Mission: Write a story, a description, a poem, a metaphor, a commentary, or a critique about this picture. Write something about this picture.
Be sure to tag writeworld in your block!
“Wow,” Nate says, a faint smile on his face as he gazes at the ruined castle rising up above the treeline. Rolling green hills stretch out as far as the eye can see, and a warm breeze ruffles through his hair as he looks out over what can really only be called a magnificent vista. No wonder the original builders had chosen this spot.
“Yep, impressive,” Sully agrees. “Now let’s go rob it.”
Nate sighs. “You have no respect for history, Sully.”
“I have lots of respect for history, kid,” Sully replies, heading for the path down the hill. Nate sighs and trails after him. “I respect it. I value it. I especially respect how much other people value it, and how much cash they’re willing to part with as a display of that value.”
Nate rolls his eyes. “The village is already practically a museum,” he says. “You really think there’s anything left for us to steal?”
“My source seems to think so.”
“Uh-huh. This ‘source’ wouldn’t happen to be a pretty bartender twenty years younger than you, would it? Because last time you took a tip from the girl serving you drinks, we ended up stranded in a cave in Bolivia.”
Sully scoffs. “It wasn’t that bad—”
“For three days.”
“Better than ending up in prison!”
“There were bats, Sully.” Nate heaves a sigh and shoves his hands in his pockets. “I don’t like bats.”
“There really aren’t any caves around here,” Sully points out.
“Well, yeah, but there’s probably dungeons or cellars— and you’re avoiding the question!” Nate takes a couple steps forward and pokes Sully in the shoulder. “Who’s your source?”
Sully glances at him sideways but doesn’t answer. Nate comes to a stop in the middle of the narrow dirt path. “Oh, god,” he says. “It is some barely legal bartender, isn’t it.”
“She’s the hotel receptionist, and she’s older than you,” Sully replies.
“Okay, great, so she’s twenty-two and a half,” Nate says. “That is not a reliable source!”
Sully half-turns and gestures for Nate to keep walking. “We’ll just have a look around, kid. It’ll be fine.”
Nate groans and hurries after him. “If I end up in a Hungarian prison, I’m blaming you!”
Sully, you dog.
The desert, I think, doesn’t hide its secrets
but clothe them, like a priestess exalted,
shrugging on her byssus robe,
and dabbing flecks of mica on kohl-lined eyes,
as if to say here I am,
world, look upon
what terrors and wonders I’ve wrought
in the hearts of men.
The asps and ished leaves were her
promise to live forever, underscored
by root tangles, like eye sockets or cracked bones:
the perfect human story
written in empty domes beneath the dirt.
Yes, it’s a faulty metaphor,
but only you and I will know
since we’re the last remaining believers
in the lie of undiscovered country,
the sole scribes left
to marvel at her dust-hieratic
and perceive the poetry
of shadows and wind.
- Husband: So you know how Jedward is, like, the twincest thing?
- Me: Um.
- Me: Where is this going exactly?
- Husband: What would you call an AU Chloe/Morrigan slashfic?
- Me: Your next project, apparently.
It’s funny how a boy grows to be a man.
How sometimes all that persists to remind us of once was is the shape of a nose, or the dirt smeared across it; the hungry clutch of fingers; the sunken cavities from which clever eyes gleam.
How as he ages he puts away childish things, or doesn’t; how he wears his toys like trophies, or totems, and believes with all his heart that they matter.
How he keeps the dirt but not the accent. How he never had the accent to begin with.
How he angles his heart away from you.
How he laughs, unguarded, but his smirk never quite becomes a smile.
Maybe I was wrong. Maybe I should say: it’s funny how a man grows to be a boy.
Still slowly working my way through my backlog of rhiannon42’s Uncharted fics (alas, AO3 has been kinda touchy lately) but this one… AUGH.
Several moments here that made me sit back in my chair, boneless and heart achey, and think to myself, “Damn, girl, that’s really, really good.”
ask-chloe-frazer Asks:
flutiebear Said:
DONT TEMPT ME FRAZER
I already love your face
So, so goddamned much.
I was re-watching some cutscenes from Uncharted 3 (for fic research, obviously), and I noticed that Young!Nate has a man’s watch hooked on his belt. It looks pretty high-quality, which makes me wonder why he hasn’t sold it for some probably much-needed coin. Why is it so important that he’ll keep it but not wear it? Did he steal it and decide he liked it? Did it belong to a family member? Why doesn’t he have it as an adult (I checked through many screenshots to verify that the wristband/watch thing he has is different)? SO MANY QUESTIONS.
And so now I will be mildly obsessed with this tiny detail. Because I am a huge nerd.
My first thought: It was his father’s.
My second thought: It wasn’t his father’s.
My third thought: Not only was the watch not his father’s, it didn’t even look like something his father once owned, or might’ve owned, or would’ve wanted to own. But Nate stole it anyway, because it looked like something he wished his father would’ve owned. It was the kind of object his ideal father would’ve kept on his wrist: someone rich, or smart, or sophisticated; someone who could give him the world; someone who always had the time (for him).
My fourth thought: Young!Nate’s watch is his first attempt to build a fantasy identity for himself, to use talismans to recreate himself in the image of who he wanted to be, rather than what he was handed. It’s, of course, the same thing he does with Francis Drake’s ring later on; he builds up this elaborate lie about his secret ancestry that was so much better than the rotten, broken bloodline he was originally given, a lie so elaborate he eventually begins to believe it. In the case of the watch, young!Nate wanted the worldly, sophisticated father he didn’t get lucky enough to have, so instead he invented him.
My fifth thought: It’s the same watch that shows up on Victor Sullivan’s wrist.
My sixth thought: ITS THE SAME WATCH THAT SHOWS UP ON VICTOR SULLIVAN’S WRIST.
YES IT FUCKING IS
Which is why I wrote a scene on this very subject— I’m trying to post it to AO3, we’ll see how that goes. My thought process on the subject was similar to yours, that it was his father’s, but of course it couldn’t be. I also gave some though to the idea that maybe he stole it because it did look like a watch his father owned, and I haven’t entirely ruled out that piece of headcanon. Nor have I ruled out your version of it, that it’s another piece of the story Nate tells himself about who he is and where he’s from.
And then he totally gives it to Sully and Sully’s still wearing it and dshfkshjsdf FEELS
(I think I may have to replay the whole trilogy once I finish with New Vegas. Just saying.)
All your posts on it over the past few weeks have put me in a serious Drake frame of mind. I couldn’t wait any longer. Now that I’m back in town, the hubs and I are replaying it tag-team style, right now, as I type.
In fact, this just in from his corner of the couch: “Fucking pirates. Always all up in my sunken cities. You’d think they’d learn by now.”
I was re-watching some cutscenes from Uncharted 3 (for fic research, obviously), and I noticed that Young!Nate has a man’s watch hooked on his belt. It looks pretty high-quality, which makes me wonder why he hasn’t sold it for some probably much-needed coin. Why is it so important that he’ll keep it but not wear it? Did he steal it and decide he liked it? Did it belong to a family member? Why doesn’t he have it as an adult (I checked through many screenshots to verify that the wristband/watch thing he has is different)? SO MANY QUESTIONS.
And so now I will be mildly obsessed with this tiny detail. Because I am a huge nerd.
My first thought: It was his father’s.
My second thought: It wasn’t his father’s.
My third thought: Not only was the watch not his father’s, it didn’t even look like something his father once owned, or might’ve owned, or would’ve wanted to own. But Nate stole it anyway, because it looked like something he wished his father would’ve owned. It was the kind of object his ideal father would’ve kept on his wrist: someone rich, or smart, or sophisticated; someone who could give him the world; someone who always had the time (for him).
My fourth thought: Young!Nate’s watch is his first attempt to build a fantasy identity for himself, to use talismans to recreate himself in the image of who he wanted to be, rather than what he was handed. It’s, of course, the same thing he does with Francis Drake’s ring later on; he builds up this elaborate lie about his secret ancestry that was so much better than the rotten, broken bloodline he was originally given, a lie so elaborate he eventually begins to believe it. In the case of the watch, young!Nate wanted the worldly, sophisticated father he didn’t get lucky enough to have, so instead he invented him.
My fifth thought: It’s the same watch that shows up on Victor Sullivan’s wrist.
My sixth thought: ITS THE SAME WATCH THAT SHOWS UP ON VICTOR SULLIVAN’S WRIST.
I have this dream of someday finding a suitable guy and cosplaying Natalie Drake and Ethan Fisher. SOMEDAY.
baby
say you’ll be the victoria sullivan
to my natasha drake
Why she’s different, he doesn’t know yet, but he lets her slide into his personal space like a secret. He wants to think it’s just the adrenalin, all the killing and plane crashes and derring-do. But he fears it has more to do with how her hair turns to gold in the low firelight, or how she caresses his ring the way others would open a storybook.
“Sic parvis magna?” she reads and does not laugh.
He chuckles for her, because it’s automatic, because it’s some old dead man’s ring, because someone has to laugh at him and she’s not doing it. When her palm lightly brushes his chest, he swallows. The air is so dusty in here.
“Greatness from small beginnings,” he murmurs. “It was his motto.”
Her eyes flick to his, and he feels thirteen again.
You are different, he wants to say.
“Check out the date,” he says instead.
But when she peers up at him again, curious, amazed, he wonders which of the two he’d actually said.
(via mihawkes)
