#nat writes stuff

[misayani]

long distance relationship with natalie scatorccio no crash au

444  6 444 7777 7777  999 666 88  2  555 666 8 , 22 2 22 999.

→ i miss you a lot, baby.

→ whether it was letters or through text, natalie will always find a way to contact you. she'll take her time at the craft store and pick out pretty papers and colorful pens so her love letters will turn out just as pretty as the girl she loves.

→ she'll take pictures of herself with disposable cameras, print them out and include them inside the envelope with her letter. sometimes, nat would also include a paper filled with kiss marks. sometimes, nat would learn origamis and make them for you so you'll have something by your side that reminds you of her while you do school works.

→ if you're a five or even ten hour train away from her, she'll save money. and when she's saved enough, she'll visit you! nat would go on a little grocery trip before, buy your favorite snack and a pack of cigs for her.

→ whenever she smokes, it would always be at night. she'll talk to the stars as it if were you. she'll confess to the sky how much she misses you, then get weirded out by herself after. she genuinely means it though. she'd look up to the stars and pray that you're always safe and in a good state.

→ natalie scatorccio is a hot woman. we can't deny that. so it wasn't surprising when boys or even girls tried to hit on her. nat would always ignore them, not bat a single eyelash. she'd go as far as printing your face on a t shirt with a text that read 'my hot girlfriend' and then wear it loud and proud at university. she doesn't give a fuck about what others think, she's proud of you and she'll show you off whenever she can.

→ nat who got you a ring that matched with hers. you both wear it on your ring fingers as if you're both married. she gave it to you when she first visited, but made a really cute vow before she put it on your finger herself:( she did all that while wearing the 'my hot girlfriend' t-shirt which you found hilarious. she's definitely going to marry you in the future.

→ nat scatorccio who doesn't always text you good morning and good night messages. she likes the fact that you both can just exist without always having the other. she likes being independent, you like being independent. that's what makes your relationship with her beautiful.

→ whenever she plans to visit you, she'll pack extra clothing of hers that also smelled like her, so she can give it to you !!!

→ endless cuddles when you both get to see each other. she doesn't want to do anything else, she just wants to be held by you. it could literally be hours of just silence while hugging you, that simple thing making her heart burst out of love.

→ nat scatorccio who beams with hapiness when she finds out that her former teammates (and now best friends) take a portion of their time to ask how you are. her face always light up whenever someone asks her about you.

→ nat scatorccio who always go back home with a large ass bag filled with stuff and clothes that you made or own. you love giving her gifts just as much as she does to you. you love, loving her just as much as she loves you, maybe you love her even more. no one can ever tell. all that you know is that natalie scatorccio is the best you could ever ask for.

[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."

[atalienart]

Writing stuff. I'm not sure what to do. I know I joke about being scared of showing someone else my writing, but I'm actually so terrified that I don't think I can do this. It's not that I don't like my story. I read it and I think it's maybe not that bad for the second attempt at writing a story and it might be improved to the point of being fine. I worked on it hard, I did my best for now. Reading it is fun for me. But then I'm panicking, actually panicking, at the thought someone will think it's ridiculous, that I am ridiculous. Only thinking about someone reading the story makes me feel so embarrassed and I don't know how to fight it. And it's not about criticism, I'm fine with people telling me what works and what doesn't in a book. Criticism of my work is fine. I want it. My logical brain craves it. But I don't want people to think stuff about me. It's paralysing. How do I just go for it? How do I show my writing to people? I want to show it. Do I just quit and keep it in my drawer?

[gossamerblue]

post-everything jonjay where jon and jay have done the whole song-and-dance of breaking up, reuniting, slowly learning to trust each other and know each other in the present, have become good friends again, and are skirting the line of maybe being something more when jon notices that jay has started smiling and laughing to himself whenever he looks at his phone. always tapping at the screen and tucking it back into his pocket discreetly.

and jon begins wondering if there's space for him still, if he has any right to a place in jay's heart, if he lost whatever chances he had and hadn't realized it, if jay would be better off without jon clinging to what they once were and what they could be again, and so jon—different, now, older and wiser and more willing to let go of what he loves—sits jay down to tell him that all jon wants is for jay to be happy, even if it's not together. that if whoever jay has been texting can make him happier than he would ever be with jon, jon would support him every step of the way.

and jay just sits there, blinking, until jon is finished rambling and looks like he might throw up with every passing second. and jay—with a soft, fond, and totally exasperated smile—tells jon that there isn't anyone else and that jay is, in fact, willing to try again. willing to take jon's hand in his, and build something brighter and better than what they had before. and while jon is elated to hear it, he confesses that he's maybe a little jealous of this mysterious person who seems to have caught so much of jay's attention and affection, but jon trusts jay and he knows that if jay says as much, nothing is there and nothing will happen. nevertheless, jay pulls out his phone and turns it over to jon to show him who, exactly, has been making him smile the way jon's been wanting to for months.

it's straightwhiteboyproblems on tumblr.com

[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 .

[burnatthecrossing]

Castle in the Air: A metaphor often used to describe wishful thinking/unrealistic dreams. thinking about timothy drake

The first word in the second line of each stanza can be replaced by the word in parentheses, if you so desire.

please dont make it weird

[cameforstuff]

@chaseerr0rcode @greenbunny7 The interaction between Tate and Nat.

Though Tate does not speak much, I feel like he's more of an action speak louder kind of person. Hope this is character.

It is unseen.

Nat stumbled forward as soon as the hands released him. The world was a mess of colors and the sunlight burned his eyes. It was like a million needles had been poked into his brain. He rocked as he walked and running into a few poles was not great for his headache. Yet he did not stop, he had to get away. He could not remember why, his head hurt so much. Even as his vision cleared the world still swirled around him. He was pretty sure he was gonna throw up.

When Nat reached the end of town, he hesitated. He wanted nothing more than to go home and curl into his bed, but his dad was still upset. He ran a hand through the hack job he had done on his hair, the shortest it had ever been. Now that he had probably accidentally gotten some drug in his system his dad would be pissed.

It had been a nice day at the fair. People had even paid him to take a few pictures. To many people, too many eyes. He patted the camera around his neck. The lens was shattered. If only he hadn't seen…

it is unseen.

Nat almost doubled over. His brain burned.

If only he was not more careful. Those fairs were always a place for weirdos. Someone must have slipped something in his funnel cake. He leaned back against the nearest wall. Trying to not look how he felt. For a long moment he just breathed.

Nat almost jumped out of his skin when a hand was placed on his shoulder. He practically threw himself backward. The hand thankfully let him. He took a second for him to focus on the person's face. A signature green hat clued him in. It was Tate Mcgucket, who ran a local fishing shop. He'd been to his house to watch his kid. He probably was not… he was not wearing red. Why did that matter? Nat blinked at him before realizing he was being talked to. He could not read the man's face but he hoped he was not upset.

"-help?" was all Nat caught.

"What?" Nat said. A second of thought told him the question was most likely "do you need help" so without letting the man repeat it he laughed and waved a hand. "No, I'm fine, just had something bad to eat."

He laughed and turned to walk away, but the world spun violently so he had to stop. He tried not to let it show. He could not let them see… who? His head burned again. This time Tate didn't grab him but let his hand hover like he might need to. It made Nat's stomach flip. He hated how unreadable Tate was. There was a long pause where they just stood.

"Do you mind looking at the poster you made? I think it printed wrong." Tate said. Nat blinked, confused.

Work, he could do work. Work was normal. A slight weight lifted off his shoulders as his mind cleared a bit. He smiled and stood straight. He had not realized he had been hunched forward.

"Oh, the one for the sale? Sure!" Nat said, fears forgotten. What was he scared of again?

"I can run you to the shop if you have the time." Tate said. Nat let himself be led to Tate's car. One he had only ridden in once or twice, since he usually just walked to the shop. Still it was familiar. It was comforting.

Nat nearly collapsed in the seat, he never wanted to stand again. Wordlessly he rolled down the window, air helping his nausea. Tate let him. When only trees could be seen, Nat relaxed. He always felt safer outside town. He had not realized he had fallen asleep until there was a noise next to him. He shot up, which he instantly regretted, and looked over. Tate had frozen halfway in opening the car door. Guilt filled him immediately.

"Sorry, guess I was tired." he laughed. Maybe he should just go home. It was not that far of a walk, and he felt better than he had earlier.

He opened his mouth to say as such, but a child came rocketing out the front door and rushed towards the car. Backle was yelling about some bug he had seen. He stopped short when he saw Nat. His face went through several emotions before landing on excitement again. Nat opened the car door but hesitated to get out. His legs felt heavy and he was unsure they would support even a step. Backle must have sensed his hesitance but before his hands could reach him, Tate cleared his throat.

"Backle, would you grab a spinner hook for me?" Tate said. Nat had no idea how that was related, but Backle's flashed understanding. He looked a bit sad, and turned and headed back inside.

Finally Nat stood, he looked over to a familiar path back to town, but a dread settled in his stomach. Following behind Tate, he soon found himself leaning on the counter of the shop. The smell was not doing much to help his sickness, but being inside was calming. He enjoyed the lack of red decorations.

"So what's wrong with the posters?" Nat said playing with one of the novelty pens.

"I'll grab it," Tate said before ducking under the counter. He reappeared after a second. He handed Nat the paper but it looked fine to him. Though his vision might not be fully clear yet so he stared at it intensely, determined to find the issue.

Tate disappeared into the back to the house portion of the building. Nat did not follow, too focused on his task. Tate reappeared with a steaming tea cup. Nat watched him set it on a small table next to a couch. He took the hint to sit, Tate seemed to hate when people hovered. He regretted it when a wave of exhaustion hit him. the paper became harder to focus on. To hide his discomfort, he picked up the tea and just held it. The warmth was nice in his hands, grounding.

Tate walked away again. Nat could hear some talking in the other room, but his brain was becoming hazy again. He set the cup down and leaned back. Even though he tried to fight it his eyes grew heavy and he fell asleep.

[ronniesart]

“Now, here, you see, it takes all the running you can do, to keep in the same place. If you want to get somewhere else, you must run at least twice as fast as that!”

(Click for quality)

New fic!!! Alice in Wonderland au made with @heyhollow (check out her designs here) Read it if you’re cool or whatever

https://archiveofourown.org/works/64237900/chapters/164873824

[natreads]

today I wrote 3k words on my novel!!! so close to 30k now. will make it the goal of the week I think

[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.

[scriptlgbt]

Are you guys still active/accepting asks?

We're trying our best!

And by that, I mean that I'm kind of the only active-ish mod currently, and I will sort of answer a few asks every now and again and put them in the queue. For transparency, I'm still in touch with a few other mods, it's just hard for some folks to answer as ScriptLGBT is run as a separate Tumblr account, so we need to log in and out of our regular blogs to answer asks. We've looked into seeing if it can be registered as a side blog so we could access it better, but because it was registered as part of a specific account as a Main Blog, Tumblr doesn't let you do that.

We've also thought about just straight up starting afresh and making a new blog to send folks to, one that would be able to be a side blog. The convo didn't really reach a conclusion, and frankly and I'm eager to hear how you folks feel about it, since we'd be redirecting you. There's a lot of years in this blog and a little under 8 thousand followers, with it having been a few thousand when I started around 2016. It's hard to know what would be best to make sure we're getting the information and help people want.

There are also others in the ScriptFamily who I talk with regularly, including sometimes about asks received. So like, even if it looks like it's just me here, I don't feel alone in it, and I do consult others frequently.

All this said, I'm sorry we haven't been able to be as active as we were when Tumblr was a little more lively. I really love writing for this blog and if I could make it a day job, I would.

mod nat

[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)

[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...

[queeenpersephone]

omg!!!! i’m so happy you are still alive in the ironwidow fandom and THANKYOU so much for the sneak peak of king of my heart - i am so looking forward 🥹🥹💞💞💞

& when inspiration strikes, here are some drabble ideas from me <3

— Morgan & tonynat drabbles,,,, i read your endgame drabble about them and thought it was sosososososos cute and would love love more of how nat has interacted with morgan through the 5 years and made their little family ( i love domestic fluff and i think nat and children is always just so 🥺 ) + optional appearance of Pepper and Rhodey to complete the iron fam (i don’t ship pepperony but i love pepper and i really appreciate how you write her in your fics <333)

— Nat with young peter drabble!!! i love (how many times have i said love im so sorry there’s no other way to describe my feelings ㅋㅋ) your ao3 fic about nat adopting peter and rasing him, would love to see their little spider family through the years from babey peter to teenage peter and + maybe their little family after the addition of tony 🩷

BUT YES! that’s all from me <3333 have a great day <3

hi hi!! sorry it took me so long to get to this but thank you so much for the prompts - this drabble is adjacent to your first one. it's not exactly on point but it's part of a larger fic ('so it goes') that i'm getting close on finishing up that does have actual morgan&nat interactions! this is just the lead up to that. it was going to be that but then tony and nat started talking and they have a mind of their own lol. still, i hope you love it as much as i love you for this super sweet ask <3

this takes place in this drabble's universe where tony and pepper break up (but changing it a little so it's after they have morgan) and tony and nat get together about a year and a half after infinity war. you don't have to read that one to get this one <3

-

At first, he doesn’t realize that he’s keeping his two lives separate. 

Natasha comes upstate often, but sporadically. They don’t speak of it, but he knows that she’s running operations for the Avengers. Sometimes, he wants to call up Bruce or Clint or Thor or, god, even Steve, and demand to know why it’s Natasha who has to keep the world together while the four of them wallow. But then he’d be a hypocrite because he’s wallowing too, and that useless conversation isn’t compelling enough to open up a line of conversation that he wants to remain closed. Plus, it would violate the unspoken agreement between Nat and him that their time is sacred, separate, and private. 

It takes him about eight months to realize that she never visits when Morgan is with him. 

Initially, he’s grateful. Morgan knows about Natasha, but only as Daddy’s friend who visits him sometimes when she’s not there. He certainly talks all about Morgan to Natasha, who easily keeps up with the proper commentary, questions, and advice when he gushes or worries about his daughter. 

Morgan, as the brilliant three year old she is, is the one who throws a wrench in things when she finds Natasha’s jacket on the couch. When Tony tells her that his friend must have left it when she was visiting a few days ago, Morgan collapses on the couch and immediately pouts. 

“Auntie Nat?” She demands in the cutest toddler voice he’s ever heard. Tony has never really liked kids, but this one? She’s amazing. He nods in response to her question. “She was here?”

Tony smiles. “She’s here a lot, munchkin. Who do you think has been helping me with all your pretty flowers?” 

“You do the flowers with her?” Tony’s brow furrows at the disgruntled tone. Is she jealous? He opens his mouth to reassure her that he loves planting flowers with her the most when she speaks again. “I wanna do flowers with Auntie Nat!” 

“You don’t even know Auntie Nat,” Tony points out, crouching down in front of her and tucking her hair behind her ear to see her face. 

“Yes I do! Mama said she’s your friend, and Uncle Rho says that they ‘venge together. Daddy, I want to ‘venge with Auntie Nat too!” 

Tony chuckles, lifting Morgan into his arms and pressing kisses to her cheeks until she giggles. “There will be no avenging, but maybe there can be flowers,” he tells her. “No promises. I have to talk to Auntie Nat first.” 

A few days later, she runs into her mother’s arms, chattering about Natasha and her red hair that she saw in pictures and can she have red hair like Auntie Nat’s or Mama’s? Pepper raises an eyebrow at Tony, who shrugs. 

“It’s about time,” she says, kissing his cheek in parting before getting into the car and driving off. It used to hurt, this part. But it doesn’t hurt anymore, because Morgan’s departure signals Nat’s arrival. 

For the first time, that idea of that separation makes him frown. 

The frown lasts for another few hours, when Nat pulls up in the 1965 Shelby Cobra, one of his favorites that he’s permanently loaned her. Not like he has to drive anywhere. He tries to put on a grin for her, but she sees right through it. 

“What happened?” She demands immediately, before even greeting him. Her eyes scan their surroundings, as if looking for a threat.  

He just shakes his head at her, holding out his arms. “Get out of the Compound mindset and into the cabin one,” he cajoles. “Kiss me, and I’ll explain.”

She caves, pressing a gentle, domestic kiss to his lips, the one he loves that makes him feel like they’ve been together forever. When she tries to pull back, he resists, holding her close for a beat longer. She allows it, sinking into his embrace in return. 

“Okay,” he sighs after another thirty seconds, leading her into the house, “I’ll tell you everything.” 

“If only it was this easy creating treaties with aliens,” she drawls, spotting her jacket on the couch. “Oh, I was looking for this one.” 

Tony ignores the second comment, turning to her with wide eyes, affecting the most offended look he can come up with on the spot. “You’re telling me you’re out there kissing aliens to get them not to destroy the Earth?” 

Natasha spots the joke from a mile away, but she plays along. He’s sure she knows how much he’s missed verbal sparring with the team. “I’ve never kissed an alien,” she retorts, but then, almost as an afterthought, something flickers in her eyes, and she turns quickly to grab the jacket. “I’ll just put this with my things upstairs, so I don’t forget it again,” she adds, walking toward the stairs. 

Spotting the flash like a seasoned veteran he is of understanding this particular woman, he narrows his eyes, following after her.  “Wait wait, what was that?” He accuses, making his way up the stairs. They creak with each of his steps, even Morgan’s light steps, but never Natasha’s. “You’ve kissed an alien?” 

“I haven’t kissed anyone since we started this,” she soothes, entering his room and hanging the jacket up in the closet space he’s left for her. She’s clearly hoping to drop the subject.

Oh no. Tough luck. He’s not really upset, especially not with this new, roundabout admission that they are exclusive, but he’s not going to let this go. “Who?” He pushes, fighting to hold back his grin. He stays in the door, bracing his hands on the frame. Not that she couldn’t get past him easily. She shakes her head, pursing her lips. “I swear I will never bring it up again, I solemnly swear, but if you don’t tell me, I’m going to keep asking and asking… better yet, I’ll ask the only alien we really know-”

The skin around Natasha’s eyes tightens just a little, but it’s enough. 

“Thor?!” He shouts, before rubbing his hands over his eyes. “Agent Romanoff… You - how - when -” 

“A mission,” she explains, short and sweet. “Before Ultron. For a cover. That’s it. Are you done?” 

Something in her voice makes him pause. “Yeah, Nat. I’m done.” She moves to leave, and he drops his hands to let her. 

The house is silent for a little while before he goes to find her. She’s on the bench on the dock, listening to the wind whistle through the trees. It’s getting dark early now, a sign of the approaching winter. The trees still have some color, though, and it’s beautiful. 

He doesn’t waste another second. “Look, honey, I’m sorry. I touched a sore spot. You know I don’t think less of you for what you’ve done, right? Because if I haven’t made that clear, I’m making it clear here and now.” 

She sighs, patting the seat next to her. He sits so that their legs press together, and she leans her head on his shoulder. 

“It’s not that,” she says. “I just… I saw Thor last week.” Tony stays silent, waiting for her to continue. “I want to respect your feelings on this, Tony,” she adds finally. 

He squeezes his eyes shut, then opens them. “Tell me,” he requests, and she does. 

She keeps it brief, but even brief, it sounds terrible. Tony had never been close with Thor; he was always going off-world, doing his own thing. Tony would never admit it, but he’s always been cautious of the demigod after realizing that it was his brother who terrorized New York. And then, during Ultron, Thor had choked him, gone off on his own again, and hadn’t really come back for any substantial amount of time afterwards. Sure, Tony’s well aware that he hadn’t tried to understand the life of a god king, but then Thor hadn’t seemed to think much of him either. 

He really hadn’t thought Natasha to be all that close with Thor either, and from her words, he hadn’t been wrong. But she’s been making efforts, and all of those efforts have been going to waste as Thor sinks deeper and deeper into a depression of which none of his friends, people, or the Avengers can cure him. 

“I didn’t want to tell you,” she says, reading the horror in his expression. 

He wants to tell her that she can tell him anything, that he’s willing to help, that he can go see Thor or Thor can come here because Tony himself is happy now, is content, is willing to help, can save the world again…

“- Hey, Tony. Tony! Listen to me, solnyshka, count my heartbeat. One, two, three, breathe.” 

He opens his eyes. He hadn’t even realized that he had closed them. “Natasha, I’m sorry,” he breathes. 

She shakes her head. Are those tears in her eyes? “No, I’m sorry. You had something to tell me?” 

“Nat, Thor-”

“No,” she says, final and serious. “No, Tony. Tell me what you wanted to say.” 

He caves. He’s afraid to admit he caves because he wants to. What kind of superhero is he? “Morgan wants to meet you,” he offers. “She saw your jacket.” He chuckles a little wetly, but Natasha is too kind to comment on it. “She’s jealous that I get to plant flowers with you and she doesn’t.” 

Natasha is silent for a moment, then: “and you want this? Pepper is okay with it?” 

This time when he laughs, it comes out clear. He can feel her relax next to him. “Of course I am,” he tells her. “You two are the best parts of my life.” Natasha smiles. “And never worry about Pepper. She saw this coming far before you or me.” 

She turns into him, burying her cold nose in his neck. Perhaps she is protecting herself from the cold autumn air, but he thinks he knows better. “With Pepper’s brains and your good looks, that kid is going to go far.” 

“What about my brains?”

“I know what I said,” she retorts, but he can feel her smiling against his neck. 

He sighs, but he’s grinning when he wraps his arm around her a little tighter, turning his face into her hair. “You’re not as inscrutable as you think, you know,” he whispers. An offered truth. 

She inhales, and they watch the lake for a while before she returns the favor. “I know. I’m not trying to be inscrutable with you,” she confesses.

[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.

[natedevereaux]

so if i had a nickle for every time the latest season of a show that aired in the past few months and featured a mentally anguished grief-stricken guy as the protag had revealed in an offhand comment that his (incredible) sister (who is married to a guy, and just had a baby in the previous season) is also attracted to women, i'd have two nickles, which isn't a lot, but it's weird that it happened twice