#nat writes stuff

[nixies-creations]

Music Producer Bradley x Rancher Jake

"You know, baby," Bradley starts as he passes Jake a towel to dry his hands, "I definitely didn't have a cowboy kink before I met you." Jake hums, eyes flicking to Bradley before focusing on hanging the towel back up on its hook before turning to lean back against the counter. "Oh?" Bradley nods as he moves in to crowd up against Jake, hands moving to grip the counter on either side of Jake's hips as he tilts his head down enough to press a trail of kisses against his scruff covered cheek before capturing Jake's lips in a soft, tender kiss. "Yeah, baby. Definitely didn't have a thing for the rugged, sweaty, hard working type before I met you." "Should I apologize for opening your eyes to how sexy I can be?" Jake asks, lips curled into a smug smile as he moves to wrap his arms around Bradley's shoulders. "Definitely. You should definitely apologize for using your wile's to make me fall in love with you," Bradley agrees brightly, eyes sparkling as he moves his hands down to grip the back of Jake's thighs to lift him up onto the counter. "You finished with your chores?" Laughing, Jake moves to hook his legs around Bradley's hips, drawing him in even closer to that they are pressed flush together. "Ol' Jerry told me to take the afternoon off since he knew you got in last night. Seems to think his boss could use a little time welcomin' his husband back from bein' outta town." "Remind me to buy Jerry something to say thank you."

[vampiresbloodx]

Stardew valley au:

Farmer!reader moving to Pelican Town and taking over their grandfather's farm will definitely be a lot of sweaty, sleepless nights and drowning on coffee to make sure everything looks just as perfect as you saw in those photos of what the farm used to be.

That's when you meet everybody in town (slowly at least) and your very friendly neighbors, who you think are way too friendly or you're just socially anxious and not used to small town kindness. You cross paths with Natasha Romanoff and her roommate Wanda Maximoff, they live in the same house together, just not in the same room she explains but everyone else calls them roommates.

Wanda wasn't there when you introduced yourself shyly to Natasha, she was supposedly out doing whatever she was doing (to quote Natasha's exact words) the mayor has expressed how fond of them he was, even first mentioned it to you the day you had arrived in hopes they'd be delighted by your presence.

It seems as though getting to know Wanda was gonna be a hard one...

But you weren't the one to hide away from a task.

Natasha herself didn't look all too interested in the new farmer in town, she kept on muttering about meeting up with a friend, Carol you think her name was, there was a Val to? You weren't sure. Maybe you should pay attention more often if the girls you didn't meet weren't so damn gorgeous you couldn't stop staring.

Weeks passed, soon it was your first month staying in this town. And you had gotten your very own cat!.

It was very unexpected the morning you heard your door knocking and you opened it, revealing Natasha's roommate, Wanda, who was more shy than you had imagined, you thought she'd be more confident, like her roommate in a way, guess she was kind of like you, introverted, quiet. You couldn't help but stare at her more than you should as you took in all of her, the skirt she was wearing, the long boots, the leather jacket and loose shirt, it almost made you feel like a damn creep staring especially when her cleavage was almost poking out.

Despite how intimidating she looks, she was actually really nice to you, she apologized for not being there when you first came, she was busy with her online classes to which you had asked about her interests and was intrigued about it, she seemed to really like that.

Was every girl in this countryside small town this damn beautiful? You thought, trying to keep it together as you probably looked like a flustered mess in front of this woman.

"um, where was I..." Wanda chuckled, looking around the front of your farm house, you smiled, letting her take her time to gather her words. "Nat and I like to go to the saloon on Fridays, she does, I mostly enjoy spending time in my room, but if you wanted to join us, you can."

You couldn't help but notice how red her cheeks got when she was trying to ask that question. God it was adorable.

You nodded.

She looked surprised.

"you'll be there? Oh, cool! I'll let her know and all, I'm happy you came here, dunno why, there's not much happening- okay maybe there is and I just don't go out as much but that's just me okay I'll leave you be I'm starting to ramble now."

You were beginning to love this town a little more.

[shorthaltsjester]

re the first three tlovm s3 episode title teaser fr. vex getting [redacted] while standing in front of percy . i will undoubtedly have Thoughts about plot n adaption once the whole season is out but i will say people acting like vex potentially dying again is a betrayal of the arc is . i say this politely. ridiculous. vex’s most common habit aside from haggling and flirting in campaign 1 was being knocked unconscious. she required full ass resurrection spells on four separate occasions. we currently have no idea what the shape of any arc in season 3 will look like beyond broad strokes and teasing shots. if they end up wanting to incorporate the exandrian magic lore of it’s harder to come back each time you die, vex seems like the obvious opportunity to do so. please at the very least save the panic posting for when you actually have something to panic about .

[atalienart]

Maybe unpopular opinion about romance in books but...

Why does the MMC need to be fascinated by the FMC from the moment he lays his eyes on her? Why the single look and "she's the one" situation. And then during the love confession we have this "I loved you from the moment I saw you for the first time" shit all over again. Can't he love her from the moment she falls from the horse or when he sees her talking about her hobby of collecting stones or something, later in the story? Why is it always "from the moment I first saw you"?? It might be romantic but it's pretty boring for me. And I'm not talking about noticing that someone's visually attractive. I mean seeing someone and being like🗦(✪ ω ✪)🗧

(idk, maybe I just can't imagine it myself, looking at someone and be so stricken with everything about them, not to mention someone else looking at me and thinking something like this, ha! well that'd be absurd xD maybe it's just normal for pretty people, that's why it's so common)

[hangmanbradshaw]

You better take it from me, that boy is like a disease

Call a girl like that renegade runaway.

They say we got tangled in a love triangle, a fatal game of truth or dare, but the truth remains a mystery.

Or, Bradley’s new to town, and if you ask the townsfolk, Jake’s a Cowboy Casanova and Nat’s a devil in a satin dress. Oh, and there’s the small fact they’re at the center of a local disappearance.

[owuwi]

thinking about charlotte rn.

thinking about coming home — her secluded area in her compound — from a long day from college and she's waiting for you with a warm meal. it's no secret that charlotte matthews cannot cook at all, not even if she had to to do it to save her life, but she tries. she always tries for you. she'd run you a nice bath afterwards, the water being the right temperature for you to melt the moment you step into the tub. she wouldn't allow you to move a finger, claiming you've done enough for the day, and instead would wash you — like a mother would do with her child —.

after everything, she'd take you to bed. maybe light up a few candles and then give you the most head spinning, toe curling massage and possibly something else;)

[writingforstraykids]

Me rn trying to finish the 45 pages of various papers/essays due on Friday😭 i enjoyed my semester break for a little too long it's my own fault...

[shroudandsands]

Prompt #7: Morsel

Her fingertips skittered across the strings like sparks between blades. Her heart rattled against her ribcage in tune as the heel of her hand slammed against the body of her guitar in her frantic rhythm. Her voice clawed its way out of her throat and scraped itself against her sharpened teeth. Her thoughts minced, bitten down, and mauled by it all only to arrive to waiting ears with words that could only be described as raging. The dagger-sharp-heel of her boot dragged against the stone as literal sparks flew. As pale gold eyes burned as hellfire in the low light.

When you were an emotionally stunted winter of a woman with all the social abilities of a particularly poisonous plant, what did you do? How did you go about having the conversation? With yourself, or if you were being particularly generous, with someone else? A specific someone else who’d actually been the topic of thought for some time now? Did you just drop it there, in the midst of something else, as a cold open and pray for the best? Did you wait for the conversation until the moment was right? Did you stuff it away and pray the thought never came to you again for as long as you lived? Rakaso wasn’t Ishgardian or repressed enough for that last option. No. Instead, then, she sidestepped all of the above with all the guile of someone who’d only ever been able to barely survive brief moments of emotional intimacy by pretending they hadn’t happened at all. Or by blaming booze on the moment of weakness. No, no. Instead of all of the sane or perhaps insane options. Instead of holding up a letter, sealed, and asking of its contents without needing to open it. Instead of flicking it open herself and simply reading within. Instead of stewing in her thoughts and letting them spiral out of control in that melodramatic way she’d been rather fond of lately. Her claws screamed their way down guitar strings in a display of sleep-deprived mania.

The heel of her hand sped with the beating of her heart as she screamed her way out of the start. Out of the rough, quiet, unhelpful beginnings of the song. Get to the speed, the rage, the therapeutic escape of thoughts. Well, you look like trouble but I guess I do too-- Well, you look like trouble but I guess I do too-- The wrong string, the wrong chord, a bash of her heel against the amplifier as she careened her way back on course. If she couldn’t do it right the first time, do it first the right way, she’d force it anyways. Who cares if she fucked it up one way or the other? To the audience it was all the same, maybe, and to the target of it all it wasn’t going to matter anyways. Through it all, if she was going to admit it, there was only the question only the dread only the worst thing she could possibly say to herself in the midst of the lyrical self-flagellation that was happening. What do we do now? If for some odd reason, any reason at all, if she wanted it to be more than just some awful song to sing. More than a heart between her teeth. More than blood and bone. More than some long, dark prayer that was filled with the selfish wants of a woman who didn’t know if that was what she wanted at all. Gods above just kill her. It’d be so much easier.

At least by the time she was coming off the stage she’d gotten it out of her system. Even if it was that same, half-flushed smile that was greeting her. She’d tired herself out. Her heart’s energy all spent on running as fast as the percussion. As running as fast as her thoughts. Enough that even flicking the other across the chin with her claw didn’t even elicit a skipped beat or an aching chest. Enough that she could slow down to see the flicker in Nat’s expression. That same change. That same reaction. She clicked her worn claws in practiced Huntspeak that she knew the other couldn’t repeat or even begin to understand. Still. As she glanced back. That look of hers that Rakaso had long since given up parsing. She returned it with a lopsided grin, a wave, a beckon.

She headed for the door.

[chiropteracupola]

spooky scary sleepover

[moth and compass is a collaboration with @natdrinkstea]

[natreads]

I have my first ever exam in a classroom in my six+ years of uni on monday (I always had home exams) and I am terrified, but at least it's open book (I say, realizing I have taken very few notes of my own and I didn't have a single book physically until now because I stress ordered two)

[surplus-of-sarcasm]

Short Prompt # 13

Decided to spice things up with villain x villain instead of my usual hero x villain.

TW: None!

"I've never cared for a thing in the world, love," the villain purred, tracing the perfect curve of their lover's jaw, lazily trailing their finger down to their neck.

"I know," the other villain breathed out heavily, refusing to meet their gaze.

"But you, on the other hand," they started, pressing a slow, delicate kiss to the other's cheekbone, "occupy a space in my mind that continues to spread, like poison in the bloodstream. And I just can't fathom living without it."

"You had. . .ambitious plans, I did, too," the other villain reminded them, their tone sober, but their eyes half-lidded, peeking out beneath gorgeous, dark lashes, letting their fingers intertwine with those of their paramour's.

The criminal pulled them into their lap effortlessly, making their now shallow breath catch in their throat as they temporarily let go of their hands. They could feel their partner's strong arms bracketing around them, their hands in theirs again, their fingers skirting over their sweetheart's knuckles in soothing motions.

"And what's stopping us from doing everything we've ever desired, together?" they whispered, voice velvety against the other's ear.

"Vulnerabilities," they concluded, treacherously kissing the crown of the second evil-doer's hair in spite of their dismal words. Or word, actually.

To their surprise, the villain chuckled. "Darling," they crooned, their hands now toying with the fabric of their flame's silk shirt, "we are not heroes. We do not love in the weak-willed way they do, no sacrifices for the greater good or whatever spiel they believe in. You and I make each other stronger, so what if we enjoy ourselves in the process? Even hardened hearts like ours need someone to belong to."

They eased their fingers out of the other's hands, tracing patterns into the skin of their arms, rubbing the lean muscles tenderly, smiling a little to themselves as they watched the tight line of their shoulders fade.

"Well, there's no holding back, now, lovely," the other villain said with a grin, pressing a passionate kiss to their jawline.

Their villanous lover laughed, a genuine, musical sound. The world was theirs, and more importantly, so was the beautiful villain in their lap.

Previously, both villains had feared love, thought of it as a trap, something to clip their wings. Foolish reminisces of naïve minds. They'd never imagined they could feel so free. Nothing felt like pure ecstasy, unbridled euphoria coursing through their veins the same way that this did. It tasted sweet, felt intoxicating, set their hearts on fire, the same flames that would soon consume the world, leaving only their names written in ash and smoke.

✨️Le Taglist: @larinzz @syberianjade @lateuplight @altu-interactions @enbious-prince @astr0-mj @thelazywitchphotographer @usernotfound000 @addictedsandwhichaki @justalittlecorrupted @quaggasus @theangstyclown @vernilliom @mothmancommitsarson @starssabove @kurai-hono-blog @talkingsperm @muffinrebel44 @sunnynwanda @annablogsposts @cardboardarsonist @itsmyworld23 @onlywhump @shr3ya @crotchgoblin69 @wtfevenisausername

Wanna be on the taglist? This'll take you there!

[wistfulwatcher]

i feel like your roman candle; misty/nat, 8k, explicit

written in response to a series of tumblr erotic prompts (since i ended up getting many more than i was expecting, i have combined the ones that fit!).

prompts used: caught masturbating, torn lace, against the wall, fingers (@igotreallyreallytiredofmyoldurl), “do that again”, hair, panting, love bites, taste, restrained, desperate, tease, on the edge, and in public (if you squint)

read here on ao3

[scriptlgbt]

How would you feel about us opening the ask box?

So... we have a giant backlog of years-old messages. Some of the questions may or may not be relevant anymore to their askers. Some are from deactivated blogs. Some are things we've struggled to answer. Etc.

The backlog of asks has prevented us from opening the ask box.

So we want to ask you as readers and writers what your opinion is. Longer explanation below.

Life happens, and this is all volunteer-run. But I am sorry for all of you who wrote to us over the past few years only for us to not have the capacity to answer at the time.

Something we have done in the past was briefly open asks to help us get the momentum going, while we chipped away at older asks that required more research or reaching out to guest mods with identities we don't have. Or slowly getting to answering questions about our own trauma in order to help someone else write it in a way that respected its gravity.

With opening the ask box then, it also meant that the mountain continued to grow large. In an ideal world, we'd be able to answer every ask quickly.

I realize folks will see this and reply with, "why not just get new mods?"

Taking on new mods requires figuring out what an application looks like, reaching out to demographics besides our own (and knowing where to do this, and the right way, considering this is an unpaid gig), interviewing, and training new mods in how the ScriptFamily group of blogs operates. And generally, even when people go through all that process, very few people are able to maintain activity on the blog. Which is understandable! We are all in that boat! (ALSO. This isn't a sideblog, so it requires logging in and out, or using another browser, pls advise if you know a workaround. ) So the balance of labour put in to bring on new mods, vs. labour saved by it, is a HUGE roll of the dice.

I say all this not to discourage people from asking tough questions. Only to hopefully give some insight into why some asks take so long, and that it's because I've been researching Molly Houses from their heyday for like 5 years and figuring out what a Bavarian asexual man would call himself in 1920 using repatriated texts from the Magnus Hirschfeld Institute, typed manually and auto-translated. And also... someone asked about the omegaverse, AKA the A/B/O trope and transness this one time and... we all have a lot to say, haha. It's a lot to unpack! But we're passionate. And I hope as we work through asks in the future, our archive will help us better be able to help you.

But IDK, what are your thoughts on all this? Should we just go through the backlog very slowly (regardless of the age of the asks)? Or do you want the ask box opened for your current questions?

[aztarion]

.

[atalienart]

You know, I've never had a writing crisis as bad as the one I have right now. I can't overcome it. I know what to write (I have tons of notes and a plan), I want to write because I want to finally finish this story, but whenever I sit to write it feels like a chore. I'm invested in the world but not invested in the words and I don't know what to do. I try not to think about the story as being bad but what if it's bad? I have fun rereading things I've written but what if it's all rubbish?

I felt something similar writing my previous story and it was at the same point. It's the "after climax crisis" I guess. Like I've lost all the fire even if I know it's not done and there's another "mini climax" afterwards that I want to reach. But the first time it still didn't feel like this. It was something to push through to get to the excitement again. Now it's just... idk. Ugh, I'm so frustrated!

What really worries me is that I don't think the characters in this story (Project Soulmate) have distinct enough voices. It really bugs me. Le sigh.

[shallowseeker]

🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶

Truth & despair on AO3 & the Tumblr link to the fic

(Unreliable Sam-POV Destiel, post 15x19 Inherit the Earth, cosmic complications with a happy ending)

With Cas dead, Jack vanished, and Dean in turmoil, Sam turns to therapy. His search for answers leads him to the bunker’s surveillance footage, where he uncovers startling evidence that casts doubt on Dean’s account of Cas’s death...and Dean's sanity. Determined to restore a semblance of normalcy, Sam gets them back on the road. But their case takes a terrifying turn when Chuck appears with a chilling revelation: the universe is targeting them in a deadly Final Destination-style game of fate. As Sam grapples with his own fears and a world seemingly set against them, he clings to the hope that reuniting his fractured family will be the key to overcoming their darkest challenges. Maybe once they’re all back together, they won’t need therapy at all.

🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶