#NatliS

[ghostyuri]

surrender to the sound 

happy yellowjackets renewal day lesbians!

pairing…post-rescue!natalie scatorccio x fem!reader

in which…your ex picks you up from the bar—when you get too drunk thinking of her.

before you read…angst. misty is here too.

“she said she wouldn’t leave, ya know? and then—she’s fucking gone—just like that? what fucking sense does that make, misty?”

the blonde sits beside you, her fingers tapping nervously on the edge of the coca cola she ordered. all she offers is a hum, and the shaking of her head, her curls bouncing lightly.

she’s been trying to get you out of this place for nearly an hour now, but you won’t give up moping over natalie—it’s impossible.

misty should’ve known better, you didn’t ever invite her to shit. apparently just when you wanted someone to validate the bitter words you spewed about the girl that had taken your heart, then crushed it in her pale palms.

“fuckin’ liar she is…” you mutter, grabbing the glass of amber liquid as soon as the bartender places it before your face with a failed smile. he was probably tired of you, just like misty, but you’re suffering more than the both them combined, so you don’t care. 

everything felt like a blur to you.

like you were just punched in the gut and can’t steady yourself and the world is crumbling beneath your toes. the alcohol dulls it enough to where you have no desire to cry, you’re only angry every time her face crosses your mind. 

you want to scream. 

each day had felt more suffocating, four weeks that had felt blended together, an inescapable nightmare that you could hardly process as a reality.

it wasn’t simple. you two were bonded the mere moment that fucking plane crashed—and every single day afterward. an intense trust in one another because you two had something so crucial in common; the desire to keep your humanity. she had felt safe with you, you had felt protected by her. 

because natalie would never hurt you. 

you can only laugh at yourself for believing that, and misty turns her body completely on the stool she occupies. 

“it’s getting prettyyyy late,” she sing songs, looking at her watch then back to you with a smile too sweet, “i can bring you home…even stop for ice cream?” 

“i don’t—” “i know a place open all night—their root beer float is out of this world.”

“i can have a normal fucking beer,” your voice raises with a crack, exhaling deeply when you notice the subtle flinch in her reaction. she expects a sorry, but you don’t bother, swallowing your briefly lived pity with another gulp of your drink. 

misty abruptly stands up, a tight-lipped smile before she excuses herself to the bathroom. your head hangs low listening to her steps fade further in the distance, propping your elbow on the counter and massaging your forehead. 

it’s surely past midnight, and you’re not sure how much longer misty will put up with your natalie-centered rants—but the idea of returning to your cold and empty bed only cemented you more in place.

you finish the glass in front of your face, just for a freshly opened beer to be placed in front of you by the bartender. something you didn’t order. you don’t think you did, at least. 

“guy in the sunglasses,” the man informs you, tilting his head over his shoulder to the counter across from you. your lips are parted with nothing to say, looking at the apparent guy with a slight squint. 

who the fuck wears sunglasses in the bar? you scoff but accept the drink regardless. 

unfortunately, he takes that as an invitation, sliding out of his chair and approaching you, watching while you keep your gaze straight. 

“i see your, uh, friend, took off.”

“clearly don’t see shit cause’ she’s in the bathroom.”

you have yet to spare him a glance, and he begins to shift in place, upset he’s not getting the attention he wants. boo, fucking hoo. you sip on the beer more, taking satisfaction in the small huff that leaves his lips, then the silence that follows. 

he dares to try again.

“i got more of those back at my place,” he motions to the tall dark glass in your hand, even having the audacity to lean in closer to the point you can smell his rancid breath. he adds, “and this shithole is about to close, so…”

“so get the fuck out,” you say lowly, oddly polite despite the words and the charge behind them. dealing with some prick was not what you needed right now. if nat was here he wouldn’t have even had the courage to send you a cheap beer. he’d stay still in his stool and let the chewed-up tobacco rot in his gums. you’d prefer it that way instead of right beside you. 

where the hell is misty?

not a question you ask yourself often, but you’re now peering at the bathroom door waiting for it to open. not that you needed assistance with the man, he’ll surely connect the dots and walk away.

but seconds pass, and he’s whistling obnoxiously while tapping his drink on the counter. you squeeze your red eyes shut, losing the little patience you have and abruptly get up.

fresh air sounds nice.

except, there’s a large hand tugging at your wrist the moment you stand. 

with a hardened face, you stare, picturing how fucked up natalie would have him looking right now. a busted lip, bruised eye, broken nose. you’ve bailed her out for less than being touched by a stranger. sometimes, you thought she was overbearing. a downside to her protective nature that you’ve appeared to take for granted…no…no. you don’t need her.

“sweetheart—”

fuck this.

with force, you pull your hand away, just before balling your fist and throwing it at him. not as effective as nat, her silver rings left violent marks that you’d clean the blood from with loving hands. but, his head swings to the side and he’s clutching the edge of the counter for support; a crowd already forming and pulling you away. 

“don’t fucking call me that,” you spit at the man, trying to squirm out of the hold another older woman had you in. you disregard her attempts to calm you down because she had no right—a wide-eyed misty rushing over and trying to take control of the situation. 

“don’t fucking…” you trail off with a hushed voice, allowing misty to guide you away. you’re shaking now, and you’re not sure if it’s from the adrenaline, or outrage, or something entirely different. your cheeks are on fire and you’re not thinking about what you just did. 

you’re thinking about her. all you fucking do is think about her. it’s a curse.

your legs feel unsteady, but misty has her hand on your back and is gently pushing you out the door, preventing you from stumbling. the cool night air hits your face, shocking the warm alcohol-induced haze you’ve been in, still not as cold as your bed without her. but god is your mattress so freezing.

you stop for a moment, leaning against the brick wall outside, your chest heaving while the tears begin to fall. you hate this—misty watching you like a scared puppy and the incapability you had to just blink them away, show a reassuring smile that you’re alright. 

you’re not, you haven’t been, and this night has been so fucking long, it’s hitting you at once. 

the pain of everything weighs on your shoulders like it’s the world itself. the abandonment. the thought of how easy it was to just leave you behind, along with every sacred moment you’ve shared with her. 

memories that cannot be replicated even in the slightest, there’s only one natalie scatorccio and she’s the only person that kept you sane—kept you alive when you wanted the winter to take you.

you slide down the wall, otherwise you swear you’d just collapse. it’s too much. you bend your knees and bring them to your chest, burying your face into your palms and sobbing. you couldn’t help it and you really tried. the night was meant to be a vacation for your mind, from her, and you feel stupid when she’s probably out there with another girl in her lap already.

moving on from you while you’re stuck in place; you keep crying.

even when the neon lights in the windows shut off and the leftover patrons exit and fade into the distance.

“hey,” you hear misty’s voice, the girl bending down and tapping your knee. with a blurry vision, you peek at her, a proud smile on her face as she points to the left of you.

you turn your head, catching a silhouette of a figure on the sidewalk. even with glossy eyes, it’s not hard to make out the long messily chopped brown hair and leather jacket clinging to her arms. 

fucking hell.

“called her when i went potty—well—i went potty to call her,” misty laughs awkwardly, assuming this was some sort of favor, inserting herself in your broken relationship and trying to fix it.

“why would you do that, misty? a-are you stupid?” 

she blinks dumbly at you, then at natalie. the brunette is already kneeling before you, using her eyes to tell the blonde to leave. misty does, without a word, because she only seemed to say the wrong things to you. even a ‘bye,’ might piss you off even more than she already has. 

you don’t want natalie to see you in this way. weeping over her outside a fucking bar she’s probably banned from. you sniffle, averting your gaze as you dabbed the tears with the sleeve of your shirt.

natalie allows you to catch a breath, glancing down at your trembling hand in the meantime, noticing the swelling and discoloration.

she frowns, reaching out and holding it delicately, afraid to apply any pressure. she is treating you like porcelain that’s already cracked.

“what happened?” 

natalie’s tone is gentle, with a familiarity to it that you’ve missed; genuine worry, and almost prying. or more so, subtly asking if you wanted her to take care of whatever or whoever had bothered you. she’s a bit too late here. 

“none of your business,” you mutter, retreating and placing your palm in your lap. this isn’t something nat is used to, and obviously so by the way she shudders at your demeanor. 

she’s not alone, though, even with the alcohol tainting your system, it’s agonizing to push her away right now. you spent the whole night, no, whole fucking month, wishing for her presence again. even thought up the first words you’d say to her…but now they slip from your brain.

“you don’t have to be like this.”

“like what, natalie? tell me.”

she’s eyeing you like she doesn’t know what to do with you. maybe she doesn’t, you were usually the one cleaning up her messes and tolerating her liquor driven attitude. 

the other part of her that isn’t focused on getting you home, is filled with a quiet rage that you had let yourself get so fucked up. especially with misty out of all people. 

natalie clears her throat, ignoring your question—it’s not serious anyways, you only want to argue. 

“just…let's go, okay?”

“fuck off.”

she takes a deep breath. natalie does not take joy in being mad at you—she fucking hates it. and yeah, you’re not in your right state of mind, but she cannot convince herself that your words are meaningless. 

that your newfound resentment isn’t a product of the alcohol, it’s just…you. how you feel about her now that she had done the worst to you. she wants to bash her head into the same brick wall your back rested upon.

she opens her mouth to plead with you but you’re faster.

“you can go, natalie—i actually fucking want you to.”

you had said the opposite the day she did leave you. you’re unsure if the words were coherent through your bawling, but it was something desperate along those lines, just begging her to stay. 

she hadn’t listened then. 

and still, natalie refuses to listen to you now.

“i’m not doing that,” she informs you, keeping her voice calm though she is on the verge of both snapping and having a similar breakdown. 

none of this was easy for her either, not the way you had assumed. hell, it was just a week ago she too was outside a shady place with tears streaming down her face. all because someone fucking smelt like you. 

it was the shampoo; a flashback of holding you in your shared bed while her body pressed into your back. she would cling to you and breath you in, peppering kisses on the tender spots of your neck down to the tip of your shoulder and the side of your arm. the last time she felt peace.

she had shaken her thoughts of you away and carried on. something that had become a routine, wishing that eventually, it would just stop—but that was like wishing on a shooting star. only having false hope but it would never become a reality. 

you don’t choose your next words carefully. 

“i’d rather leave with s-someone—anyone else—instead of y—”

“don’t you fucking say that to me,” natalie cuts you off, jaw clenching in fury while her mossy eyes welled up. you never made natalie cry, and your expression noticeably softens when she turns her head away from you, wiping her face hurriedly like a child. 

all natalie did was come here to take you home, now she’s sinking deeper into the hole she dug herself in weeks ago. she rejects her vulnerability and with a flash, her emotions are concealed.

she clasps her hands together and blinks at you in exasperation.

“then i’ll have misty come back and pick your ass up. even spend the night to make sure you don’t choke on your damn vomit.”

with that, nat gets up, but doesn’t leave. she stands there with her hands on her hips, waiting for you to pick yourself off the sidewalk and follow her to her rusting car. your bottom lip is quivering, forcing yourself to accept defeat because natalie always won. 

your wobbly legs straighten, and she’s already placing an arm around your torso to help. part of you wants to refuse, the other part melts into her. 

both of you don’t say anything. not on the way to the poorly parked vehicle around the corner, and not on the ride to your apartment. she plays her cd with the volume on low, the tension incredibly painful each time a song you associate with each other taunts you through the speakers. 

she occasionally steals glances at red lights, but it’s when she parks on your street that she looks again and notices the lonely tear trailing down your cheek. you’ve unbuckled your seatbelt and gripped the door handle, but you were frozen.

natalie says your name softly, and you feel her right hand softly reach for your left one. you don’t react, not even when she gingerly brings it to her lips, kissing the flesh fondly. 

you have no desire to speak anymore. your anger had died a few stop signs ago and now you just feel numb. you’re inhaling the scent of the apple car freshener and the cigarette smoke that tainted the fabric, while natalie is studying your desolated yet so fucking beautiful features.

natalie pushes the lump in her throat.

“…i love you…”

when she finally catches your glistening glare, her eyebrows knit in heartache, and she’s the one who may throw up. there’s not an ounce of uncertainty behind the three words, never has been. it’s the very reason she had to hurt you anyway—it was necessary.

nat knows you’re both fucked up, there’s no denying that. but, she will always view herself in a different light than you. a very dim one with a bulb flickering near its death—compared to the halo she envisioned over your pretty head because you still had the warmth of the sun, despite what you two had gone through.

she’s so cold, and she hopes one day you’d acknowledge that and understand her.

“i can’t just…stop that.”

natalie’s thumb is tracing slow circles over your hand, the small repetitive motion keeping her grounded and stopping her from shaking. the words are hard to say, and difficult to hear—because this isn’t natalie regretting what she had done. it’s the total opposite, it’s a bittersweet goodbye. and she keeps going.

“i mean—fuck,” natalie laughs to herself, though it’s hollow and she glances at her lap, “the way i feel about you…that’s a one-time thing for me.”

you’re physically unable to smile; but there is a very slight twitch to your lips, the corners pricking upwards hardly. she’s honest, and she’s holding you so tightly. despite it all, there is a sense of comfort. not at all a sudden rush of freedom from the agony, but it’s something. 

and for some odd reason, the rest of the unspoken words you wish to say, no longer matter at all. natalie made a decision and she’s sticking by it.

and you have to be okay with that.

[natlysblog]

me when th. bugtterfly

[facesunavailable]

society has progressed past the need for sibling headcanons

[grapejuiceproductions]

So I take nighttime medications that, once they kick in, make me high as a kite. So the other night I'm watching Bones and a commercial comes on with Natlie Portman for the new Dior perfume and she asks "what would you do for love" and I kid you not my first response to that was "Wasn't that the kind of attitude that had Anakin destroying democracy and brutally murdering children for like two whole decades?"

[ifelllikeastar]

Robert Redford, 1966 This Property is Condemned

[1992ultra]

</3

me and nat have something in common! we both love leo i see!!!

[enchantingfirepizza]

MAYBE NATALIE GRACE IS INTERESTED IN THE EXPERIMENT ?

[mannytoodope]

Tom: Are, uh, you sticking around for a bit, or...?

Lucy: Nah, I'm heading to Bloomington right now.

Lucy: Ah. -Grad school's fun, but I do miss this town.

Tom: After this is done, I'm gonna be broke, and I'm not gonna have a job

Lucy: Well, if it's any consolation, this was, honestly, the best party I've ever been to.

Tom: It was pretty great. I was really aiming for something that...

[natlysblog]

sorted a bunch of pictures of my sona into categories i made up

If you’re reading this, show me some art you’ve made.

If you haven’t made any art, make some now and show it to me.

[natlysblog]

[facesunavailable]

feeling angry? feeling scorned? betrayed? wanting to emotionally distance ur self from the death game youre trapped (or maybe not even trapped and merely participating) in? try Watching™ you will certainly not regret Watching™

[neochromeshipping]

pinned post. welcome to the ot3.

hi, im natly natlysblog (they/them), and welcome to Rarepair dot com, and this. is a sideblog

mobile link to my pages: https://neochromeshipping.tumblr.com/pkmnaomi

if you EVER dont want me to have your art on this, a shipping blog, just shoot me a message! i'll delete my reblog! promise!

[n0eyed-taissa]

yellowjackets season 3 trailer takeaways/theories/observations/questions:

time jump: season 2 was firmly set in the winter and it looks like the bulk of 3 will be set in the spring (with some flashes to the Deep Winter)

how much time has passed & how did they manage to comfortably survive post-fire?

i think this time jump & whatever happened during the in-between time will explain how and why the girls seem much more deranged than they did.

they gave in to desperation and its circumstances, so nothing is really 'taboo' anymore. gimme scary evil cannibal lesbians pls

even shauna's narration references the fact that the girls "went completely nuts" out there

allusions to The Hunt: while i know most folks think mari has always been Pit Girl, i think her running in the trailer is a red herring.

this WILL, however, be what sets up the hunt and its rules/functions/the course

(because to ME, it has always looked like a cleared/intentionally set path, with s1ep1 showing their hand-made adornments hanging from the surrounding trees )

mari is 100% wearing the dress/nightgown that s1ep1 Pit Girl is.

tiktok fans have been theorizing that perhaps based on the rules of the hunt, mari will survive whatever the hell is about to happen to her while still later meeting Pit Girl's fate in the winter, but who's to say

"cant believe we didnt eat that bitch first" - says the one with the big brown eyes like a baby mf cow. she just wants to snack on her friends!

(y'all saw that part where shauna is biting and restraining mari, right?)

power struggle: it looks like there are going to be factions splitting up, or the girls will continue to show alliance to a particular 'leader'

van, misty, mari, akilah, and either New Gen or robin? potentially in support of lottie's leadership and connection to the wilderness?

them vs Everyone Else, who seems more focused on practical survival

coach ben seeing the snare trap and probably wondering if it was for a person or for an animal

(i didnt know what a snare was so i truly needed to google 'animal trap that looks like a n**se but isnt. sue me!)

shauna locking herself in a freezer because it was the only way she could talk to jackie. putting yourself into dangerous situations in hopes of manifesting the ghost of your lover? okay bella swan in new moon!

jackieshauna being connected by coldness, both emotionally and physically.

from the meat shed to the freezer, jackie taylor's ghost will never escape the ethel cain parallels!

theres probably someone out there in the world who wants to smash the man with no eyes, huh.........dont answer that actually.

taissa's grown out hair makes little tiny magical hearts float all around my head. wow. just wow.

are the yellowjackets going on a field trip in the wilderness together? where tf is natalie and did she find coach ben's hidey hole?

the envelope being addressed to shauna shipman and not shauna sadecki makes me think its from a person with ties to the wilderness, pushing the secret 8th survivor theory (perhaps hilary swank as adult Melissa CoolHat)

i WANT this ritual scene to be another dream-like allegory for them enjoying their descent.

if the snackie feast was the roman bacchanal, the political split between the girls and the power imablance could be going into a julius cesar-y territory? especially with the mistyshauna stabbing?

misty exploring someplace that looks like the one from lottie's visions? someone is on trial? natlie isnt in charge anymore?! walter has a mustache now?!!!!

van's new fixation on the fire, alluding to the idea that she could have been the one to burn down the cabin??? to quote you, girl, "REALLY? fire?!"

shauna with her knife to melissa's throat....is something gay happening there?

this creepy little song is really giving me the vibe that everything will NOT be okay!!!

in summation: women can be a little evil, as a treat!

[natlysblog]

turns out there was a lot of homemade worldbuilding lore attached to this very simple story whoops! this always happens to me!

as you can see there are at least eight thoughts . here. maybe more

how do you even count thoughts

very, very first thing: names! kirby is kirby (they/them), yellow is keeby of course (ey/em), red kirby is korby (they/he), green kirby is kaaby (e/hem/er)

SO uh basically, in 2019 i was thinking about batamon, as ya do, and i was thinking about how i wanted "kirbys" (i call them starchildren now) to be an extremely rare species... but still have my freedoms to design as many kirby like orbs as i wanted

because battle royale intrigues me even though i think the actual plot is kinda..... out of place...?

and then about amazing mirror, the thing is that i wanted to keep the other two around to surprise return for heroes in another dimension, for my funny "everyone is here!!!!!!" plot, and didnt really think about where they would be in the inbetween except a vague "somewhere else/safe"

i do a lot of thinking and worldbuilding about mimic orbs. its fun. the main relevant thing here is that they are the Most mobile species in the galaxy, they VERY RARELY settle and live in one place, for just a variety of reasons. and, back when starchildren were more common in the universe, they would often be adopted into mimic orb communities to mutual benefit

combining these ideas is very recent ehehe may '23 was my 2nd most recent kirby phase. but it felt very obvious ! natural even

if you need , Any clarification at all, it may come in 1-3 business months, but ask anyway

[mannytoodope]

Lucy: Yeah, I broke up with Conrad.

Tomy:( gasps )

Lucy: Which was a long time coming, but still weird. So yeah, uh, do you want to talk about it?

Tom: So yeah, do you want to talk about it?

Lucy: Thanks. I don't think I'm ready to discuss it just yet. But what I would like to do is have a glass of wine and talk about that shade Nicki Minaj threw at Jesse Eisenberg at the BAFTA Awards.

Tom: Mm. He deserved it.

Lucy: No. he didn't!

Tom: Uh, settle in because I have some very strong feelings about this.

[natlysblog]

my awesome isat text post meme; yippee!!!!