#winterinmysights

@winterinmysights​ liked this for a starter

          Hearing footsteps behind him, the ONLY other sound in the dark street in behind his apartment building, Brock WAITS. When they’re STILL trailing him a few minutes later, he spins, gun coming up, safety off, finger resting LIGHTLY on the trigger. “All right, what the fuck d’you...”

          He trails off, his complete SHOCK registering on his face.

@winterinmysights

It was like that ride at Disneyland, the dark one with the coaster and the flashing lights. The one Clint had drug her on over and over until he was just shy of losing his lunch. If Natasha was the type she’d lose hers too right about now. Instead she fell to her knees to catch her breath and to try to stop the world which was spinning round and round like a child’s toy.

Sounds filtered in and out, muffled like being under water. Russian mostly and physical noises of bodies hitting mats and breathing.

That was wrong.

So was what she saw as her eyes focused.

Once upon a time the mats were blue. Now there were only brief patches to remind someone of what they had been before becoming stained by blood, sweat and tears.

I’m dreaming…

I hit my head and I’m dreaming.

She just needed to pull it together and wake up or someone would wake her. But the smells, the sounds. How did she explain that? Especially the smell. Dried blood and sweat, then another smell, more metallic than blood.

Slowly she raised her head to see the toes of black boots within her immediate peripheral. That was familiar too.

It had to be a dream. She tried to think back to minutes ago in the lab, watching the SHIELD scientists hard at work with something. There had been shouting, chaos and then the lights. She hit her head, this was the only explanation.

She raised her head fully and blinked in surprise before scrambling backwards until her hands found the edge of something. The mats… no a ring, for boxing. It was in the middle of the room and only the best got to display their skills within it and she was the best. Not because she wanted to be, she had to be, it was all about survival.

Again her gaze focused on the figure in front of her, a ghost made of flesh.

One?

Only one?

Nah.

I do what I want.

The biggest thing? Meeting the people I have come to callfriends through her. The last few years I honestly don’t know where I’d be orwho I’d be without some of them.

And writing Natasha has taught me a lot about myself, thingsI’ve never stopped to think about or even realize or want to confront that I’veneeded to. Writing her has helped me grow up, pull out of a lot of teenageangst bullshit I was holding onto.

meme.

✌ : Fondest role-play memory, between muses?

about three or four years ago, i was involved in a 1x1 roleplay when i was still in the grey's anatomy fandom. the other mun and i just clicked very well and we wrote together almost everyday for two years -- we created this story together featuring two characters who had unfortunately died on the show. it was just so much fun to see these characters move past what had happened on the show because we didn't know what had happened to them. everything was created very naturally and that story is still one of my favorites that i've gotten the chance to write because the characters just told it themselves. we didn't have to force anything.

✯ : A head canon someone else has inspired you to adopt?

Sometimes I feel like so much of what has happened to him is my fault in some ways. 

Peer into my muse's memories