#One singular layout...

[richesthermit]

A vex Scar tumblr layout! ❀ requested by anon rb/like if using & credit me + artist! ┈ art credits : 1. 2. 3.

[marzipanandminutiae]

get in loser we're trying to figure out the original layout of the 1890s house I live in (based primarily on real estate listing photos, for the other unit)

[seance]

this is so random but i was thinking that if there's one tip i could give to my fellow gifmakers who use photoshop is to try and familiarize themselves with actions more cause they really are that one feature that can save you hours of work cumulatively when used right imo

[sysig]

Lost my mind thinking about the Vyer Estate (Patreon)

[0310s]

take a picture, it'll last longer! (leehan) ᯓ★ 

members: leehan x gender neutral reader

genre: fluff, established relationship

wc: 1.2k

summary: a photobooth, too many options to choose from, and a naughty lover (spoiler: it’s not you).

a/n: once again... thank you to @dollvrse for implanting this idea in my head... you literally have the best ideas. i went utterly insane imagining this scenario, so i had to churn out this fic for the sake of my mental health. enjoy!

 𓉞⋆｡˚☁︎｡⋆

“Leehan, Leehan, a photobooth!” you gasp and nudge your boyfriend of one month. The singular photobooth is tucked in a cozy corner of the street, right beside a homey cafe. A peek under the curtain shows it’s unoccupied—lucky! “Hurry up, let’s go, let’s go, let’s go!” You tug at Leehan with your intertwined hands without waiting for a response; your lovely partner seems happy to be dragged along, either way. 

Sliding the curtain open, you quickly usher Leehan into the photobooth. As expected, the interior is compact, just enough for a pair to squeeze in and take photos. It’s honestly been quite some time since you’ve entered a phootbooth; you’ve never had a particular interest in these sorts of gimmicks. But now, you have something to commemorate and you want to be reminded of through photographic means—so here you are. 

Still, this is no time to peruse the photobooth interior. The last time you visited one, all you needed to do was to take your pictures and the machine would churn out everything else for you. Now, there are a plethora of options to choose from—too many, in fact, that you end up feeling momentarily paralyzed. “Okay, what are we feeling today? Two poses? Four poses? Eight poses? And there are… uhh… ten layouts we can choose from? There are way too many options... I’m getting confused!”

“We can probably just go with the regular four-photo strip.” Leehan’s voice is low and melodious as he answers you. “And pick the ocean design. The fish look cute there.” You nod and go with it, not wanting to waste any more time on deciding. As you pull out your wallet to feed the machine a couple of bills, Leehan beats you to it and fishes the photobooth some of his own money. Before you can even protest, Leehan sends you a little smile. “My treat.” How could you ever be mad at him with that smile of his?

You’re cut off from your daydreaming about how wonderful everything about Leehan is when the screen sounds, indicating you should get into position. “Okay, first pose!” You come up with many poses, but none of them seem right. Leehan proves to be unhelpful because all he’s doing is gazing at you with a fond smile on his face. “Leehan, maybe stop looking at me and help me out?” 

“I can’t help it. You’re just too beautiful,” Leehan tells you, “my eyes go wherever you are.” At this, your face burns with embarrassment. You’re about to tell Leehan to stop joking around when the photobooth shutter goes off with a loud sound.

At this, both of you turn to the screen, watching as the timer ticks down for the second photo. “Leehan, you just ruined our first photo!” you complain, but your boyfriend remains smiling. “Listen, buddy, this is a collaborative effort. Let’s think of a pose for the second photo. Come on, please?”

Leehan laughs to himself at how cute you are for taking this so seriously. “Okay, fine, fine,” he finally gives in to your pleading. “Come here.” Bringing you closer, he wraps an arm around you. His hand on your waist is a warm brand against your skin, and you ignore the shiver that goes through you. But when he tightens his hold, you instinctively giggle. 

“Leehan, not this pose, I’m ticklish there.” You try to wriggle out of his grasp, but he just pulls you in closer until his body is pressed right against yours. He’s facing straight at the camera, but you can see the corner of his lips curling up. You suddenly have an foreboding feeling that he’s up to no good—then he gives your waist another squeeze, right where you’re most ticklish.

“Ahh!” You squeal, thrashing in his grip. Leehan, devil that he is, laughs at your plight and starts to purposely tickle your sides to get a reaction out of you. He’s too strong—you’re subjected to practically the worst (and most evil!!!) tickle attack you’ve ever experienced in your life. As you wriggle around in an attempt to escape, the shutter goes off once again: two shots gone down the drain, two more to go. “Kim Leehan, if you don’t stop teasing me-” you begin to warn him, but you lose all train of thought when you notice the position you’ve ended up in.

Leehan’s got both arms wrapped around your waist. You can literally count the number of lashes your boyfriend’s got—it’s unfair how he’s got these pretty, long doll lashes that ghost his cheekbones every time he has his eyes shut. You’re so close that you can feel his breath on your lips as he looks down at you with an unreadable expression on his face. Your eyes trail down his gorgeous doe eyes, to the slope of his straight nose, to his plush, kissable lips—wait, what?

Your thoughts are all but interrupted as Leehan leans in and steals your breath with a tender kiss. One hand shifts from your waist to your cheek, gently cradling your face in his palm. His other hand remains on your waist, drawing you nearer, and you practically melt into his strong arms. Trailing your hands over his back, you sigh into the kiss as your pliant lips move against his. You’re so absorbed in the kiss that you don’t hear the camera go off another time. You feel so safe in his arms, and kissing him makes you feel lightheaded with happiness—happiness that you’re this close to him, someone you care dearly for, and that you’re able to share this intimate moment with him.

When you finally pull apart, you’re panting for air. Leehan is staring at you with a similarly dazed expression, eyes glazed over. You’re looking into each other’s eyes for a quiet moment, sharing equally shy glances. Leehan’s got that expression where he’s suppressing a wide grin, his dimples peeking out. That’s when the final shutter goes off, and you’re snapped out of your stupor—then you suddenly realize what you actually came here for. “Leehan, the pictures!”

“Oh. Right.” Leehan looks positively unapologetic. “I forgot." You clearly both did. A whirring sound comes from the machine, and you both turn around to see the finished prints drop out. When you step over and hold up the photo strips, you gasp with shame. 

“Oh my god!” The first photo is you fuming at Leehan while he looks at you longingly. The second photo is a blur of arms, but you can distinguish both your bright smiles as you flail around—yours out of ticklishness, and Leehan’s out of pleasure at your misfortune. 

The third photo is one that makes your cheeks flush a fiery red. Leehan and you are wrapped up in a kiss—nothing R-Rated, but still utterly humiliating to have been captured in a phootbooth no less. You look down to the fourth and last one, and here, you’re both gazing at each other with bashful smiles on your faces. The most embarrassing thing about it all is how because of the design Leehan's chosen, it looks like you're making out in a sea of poor marine creatures who most likely did not consent to watching a private show.

As cute as this is, you probably can’t display this in your room. “Jesus, these are ruined. We should take them again,” you exhale, already regretting the amount of money you’re spending on some silly, unimportant photos. But Leehan stops you, taking the photo strips from you and surveying them carefully. 

“What do you mean? I think they came out great.” Leehan pauses, considering his next words, carefully monitoring your reaction. Then what he says next stuns you: “... We look like we’re in love.”

Your heart clenches at this. It’s true—you and Leehan look like you’re in your own little world. “We do,” you concede. “Okay. Let’s keep this.”

[huellitaa]

girl's guide to academic success: ep 1! ⊹˚. ♡

──★ ˙ ̟🎀 this post focuses on: actively rooting for success! ♡ part 2 -> ♡

🧸𓂃 ࣪˖ 1. organisation

first off, have something to organise ur academic life with! i personally use notion (which i'll add later) but u can use anything as long as it's cute, convenient, unique and accessible to you, your life and your schedule specifically. especially as a visual learner, i like to have somewhere i can dump literally everything regarding a singular area in my life, so i do this for almost everything along with school and i highly recommend this <3

🧸𓂃 ࣪˖ 2. recognition of talents & improvements

analyse your strengths and weaknesses. think back on tests, exams, marks, and analyse which ones you got highest and lowest on. dont beat urself up for it, obviously; it's just to check which subjects you're doing good in and which ones have room for improvement. for example i love science but im not the best at it sometimes and we had an assessment recently and i didn't get as high as i'd like so i wrote down a little list on a piece of paper in my pencilcase for the topics i got the least in for me to study on my own to practise later.

🧸𓂃 ࣪˖ 3. laying out goals

set down specific goals; i like to do this week by week accustomed to my schedule that week in my school notion page along with images and vision boards based on the term/semester, but you can do it for the week, the month, the year, anything as long as its helpful to you

🧸𓂃 ࣪˖ 4. productive planning

plan accordingly based on ur time energy. when creating any to do list or productivity plan dont pile a ridiculous amount onto it that just leaves you stressed and overwhelmed because that defeats the entire point; this works the same for academic plans and goals and lists etc.

🧸𓂃 ࣪˖ 5. extra credit

put extra work in to the subjects you know will help you in the future. for example, for my personal aspirations i need to excel in english, history and textiles so i always try my absolute hardest and put my all into those lessons and do extra studying for them in my free time where i can. school is to prepare you for the future so take advantage of that

🧸𓂃 ࣪˖ 6. asking questions

please don't be shy to ask questions! that's what teachers are there for and you won't have them forever so take advantage of it while you can! you can even do it in that little window of time just after class if ur too nervous to ask in class. for example, on my last english exam i went to my teacher after class and asked about what i needed to improve on to get the marks i missed next time, and he told me i added too much detail and some other things so i wrote it down and am keeping a note of it to remind me to improve on that next time! (i got top of my class though so i didnt mind. still kind of pissed i added too much detail though)

🧸𓂃 ࣪˖ 7. participation

participate! ok im saying this as someone who still struggles with social anxiety a fair amount but if u wanna get higher marks and get on good terms w ur teacher i 100% recommend this. i don't do this in every class but i do it where i can and when i'm confident in my answer, and it's really intimidating at first but what i did is i did it first in the classes i felt most comfortable on and continued from there. it gets easier every time i swear, and nobody's judging you; they'll forget about it after five minutes. plus, what would they be judging you for? being smarter than them?

🧸𓂃 ࣪˖ 8. prioritising ur health

this is mentioned a lot in these types of posts but if you're tired or burnt out or overworked or just feel like you need to take a break then do. do the best you can and compromise like i said earlier if you need to, just make sure u are prioritising yourself over anything. <3

──★ ˙ ̟🎀inspo

──★ ˙ ̟🎀my notion

i also really recommend this layout by @honeytonedhottie ♡

all my love 🩷✨💬🎀💗

[willowser]

ᴅᴏᴡɴ ᴏɴ ᴀʟʟ ғᴏᴜʀs. werewolf kiri au.

you wake up under a mountain of furs.

light comes flickering from the hearth and, warm and welcoming as it is—you've no idea where you are.

you don't recognize the inside of the cabin; it's certainly not yours, nor is its layout that of any you’ve seen in the village. it's rather plain, with a singular window and table and chair and small fireplace, empty enough that you wonder how anyone could live comfortably with so little.

outside, the winter storm rages on, and there's a howl that cuts through the air that strikes bone-deep.

all at once your memories come back to you: dragged through town with bound hands and ankles, in only a thin night dress, screaming with all your might as the physician that delivered you into this world tied you to an old pine, along with the priest and the man that sold you blueberries in the spring.

people you knew and loved. had trusted.

the memories become hazy after a while, darkening with the night that crept in. you remember your body losing its feeling, but not its fear. you remember the violence of the storm, breaking trees and branches and uprooting the forest floor. you remember the horrible and hulking shape of something rising in the moonlight.

the door shoves open then, with enough force to send you scurrying back into the corner of the room. the blizzard tries to rush inside, but a man stands in its way, leaning back against the wood to keep the wind and snow out where it belongs. he's—big, as tall as the frame and just as wide, with thick hair that he's tied back, messy and low.

he's rosy in his cheeks and on the tip of his nose, as bright as the eyes that snap to you the moment you dare to breathe.

he doesn't say anything, at first. the bag of firewood he sets at his feet settles as he turns to you in interest, eyebrows raised. the clothes he's wearing look—old and worn, certainly not suitable for the storm roaring outside, with the holes and tears in the fabric. the boots he has on, however, seem heavy, have his steps echoing when he moves further into the room.

you pull your knees up to your chest and try to shrink away; beneath your thin dress, your skin has pebbled up, reminding you of just how vulnerable you still are.

your fear translates; the man stops on the other side of the little table, breathing in deeply before raising his hands up in what reads as surrender.

"hello," he finally says, and when you don't respond, he places a thick hand to his dark-haired chest and introduces himself as, "eijirou."

he nods emphatically and then repeats himself, as if to reinforce the name. you only grant him a small nod in return—and he smiles. it's wide, stretching across his face, and friendly, authentic enough that you question whether you're as damned as you thought, or perhaps saved.

how did you even get here? the question finally thaws out from the recesses of your brain and you take another look around the room as if the answer lies between the wood or nestled into the furs. this place looks too hand-crafted, you realize, all of it—and the man before you looks like he could move mountains, if he wanted to.

the chains that had bound you were iron-strong and didn't once budge in all your thrashing, before things went dark—but now you are inside by a well-maintained fire, warm and free, and all that remains of your ill fate are the indentions worn into your wrists.

he's still staring at you, the man. eijirou. he's not moved any closer, either, and when you meet his curious gaze, his lips twist and his eyes narrow. a thoughtful noise comes out of his mouth, like he's thinking of what to say or how to say it, and you're reminded that you don't recognize where you are, nor do you recognize him in the slightest.

big as he is, you don't think he could have carried you too far in a snowstorm such as the one still raging outside; are you still somewhere deep in the forest? in a cabin at the heart of the wood? saved by a man that somehow survives with so little out in the middle of nowhere?

"eijirou," you test the name on your lips and he perks up at the sound, attention snapping back to you instantly. you don't know if it's winter seeping through the floor, or if it's in the way that he watches you, that makes you shiver.

finally, he asks, "cold?" and when you nod, he slowly makes his way over to you, carefully, as if approaching a deer ready to run.

—and then he sheds his shirt with a quick shrug and holds it out to you.

you should want to look away, for decency sake, but you're—stunned by it, by him. there's a litany of scars that paint him in odd and worrisome places, but he stands tall and strong before you, unbothered by his own state. unbothered by the eyes that run over the expanse of his bare shoulders, the dark, thick trail of hair running down from his belly button, the ripples of muscle his loose shirt did well to hide.

you take it from him carefully and it's so warm, almost hot, that you press it to your face immediately to chase away the chatter of your jaw. the material itself, however ragged, is big enough to drape over your curled form like a blanket, and so you do just that. it carries the earthy smell of the woods, deeply woven into the fabric; pine and musk and something smoky.

with your cheek still pressed to his shirt, you look up to thank him, at last, but the words still in your throat at the minute changes of his face: still smiling, though sharper now, somehow, and his eyes are still wide with that keen, rapt interest—but the crimson to them has set like the sun and they've grown just as dark as the night outside.

[mistydeyes]

Hello! I love your page layout!! May I send in a request for Platonic Headcanons with TF-141 and Los Vaqueros with a hacker reader? (Like SilverWolf In Honkai star Rail) Reader is part of a group of 4 deadly people including their self and act as their hacker. They’re notorious for breaking into many government and military systems and are an enemy to TF-141 and Los Vaqueros. With reader having a bounty of 51 billion but still having the lowest bounty compared to others in their group!

I’d be interested in their reactions to reader!

(Take your time tho!)

ahh thank you so much for sending this in! I've been in a bit of a writer's block so this brought me back :)

┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊

summary: When your file crosses the 141's desk, they find themselves hunting after you and your notorious group.

pairing: Task Force 141, Los Vaqueros x platonic!reader

warnings: swearing, mentions of weapons/violence

┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊

When your file first crossed Laswell's desk and she passed it over to the team, they were surprised at its sheer size

From hacking the US government to disabling NATO comms, it was clear you had become an enemy of every government across the globe

The US even tried to make a deal with you and offered a high-paying job in the NSA in return for a detailed account of how you hacked into their systems

You returned the job offer with a hack that left their website non-functional for weeks

"Impressive one you have here, Laswell," Price commented as he flipped through your file

"They call them 'Oblivion' and the use of 1's and 0's is a nice touch" she quipped before briefing them on your team's current location

That's how they ended up back in Mexico and crossed paths again with the Los Vaqueros

"Fuck it's so hot here," you said as you fanned yourself with a makeshift paper fan

The leader of the group, Phantom, rolled his eyes as he continued to clean your array of weapons and tools

"Not my fault we got tracked down to that oil rig in the Pacific," he replied through gritted teeth and you threw a stray stack of files toward him

"Told you, that wasn't my fault," you angrily responded, "the Australians tracked down someone's unprotected IP"

You shot a glance toward the single individual who was the source of all your forged documents and consistent flow of funds

As the group divulged into chaos at your singular comment, you were distracted by the blinding light and ringing from a flash bang through the window

"Get down!" you could hear a loud baritone voice boom as you blinked rapidly amongst the rubble of your work

As you looked around at your surrounding teammates in various states of disarray, you could see the vague outline of an attack team making their way through the destroyed door

"Fuck me," you swore as you grabbed a weapon and your laptop- two vital necessities

You scrambled to your feet and found yourself crouching behind a sturdy kitchen counter 

"Isn't there supposed to be four of them?" you could hear a distinct British accent, probably from Manchester, comment

You silently swore at yourself as you attempted to shuffle away towards the back exit

"Oblivion, we know you're here," another voice replied as you could hear cuffs being slapped onto your team accompanied by their pained and disoriented groans 

You put your ear to the counter, hearing the vibrations of their heavy footsteps on the home's wooden floor as you turned the safety off your weapon

"Come out now and we'll lessen that bounty on you," the same voice chided, "what is it 51 billion US now?"

As you held your breath, you could hear them slowly making their way through the home. By your estimates, there were about 6 of them, give or take

Your mind raced with different scenarios as you heard one of them walk into the kitchen

You pushed yourself into the corner and with a stroke of luck you noticed them inspect the cupboard

"I got you, you Brit," you whispered as you wrapped your arms around their neck and held a gun to their head

"Don't say a word and follow me," you instructed as they struggled against your grip

Strength was never your best feature but it helped you to overpower the soldier, the name "Garrick" printed on his vest

As you walked to the main area, you immediately felt all eyes and guns pointed at you

"I wouldn't shoot if I were you," you said calmly, "wouldn't want anything to happen to your Sergeant"

"We don't negotiate with terrorists," an older man spoke, by the way he was directing the team, you assumed he was their captain

"I'm more of a gray hat hacker regardless," you smirked, "steal from the rich and give back to the poor."

"How noble of you," another sarcastically replied as you stood in the tense atmosphere

"Regardless, you'll let me walk out of here and maybe we can have the pleasure of this another time," you remarked as you cocked the gun in your hand

"And if we don't?" the Captain asked as he raised an eyebrow at you

You smiled as you wiped away the dust from your face and stared back at him

"My bounty is going to be higher than the rest of them," was the last thing you said before releasing the sergeant and lodging a non-fatal bullet in his shoulder

As the entire room delved into chaos, you made a hasty escape and hopped on your motorbike outside

"Thanks for everything, Phantom," you whispered before riding off into the sunset with the hopes of running into that mysterious group with better circumstances

[janananarei]

My Loyal Follower

God!Gojo x Mortal!Reader

Fate decides to put color in your monochrome world and brings you to an abandoned temple with a god residing inside. You are taken in as his follower and an unbreakable bond forms. But the passage of time is cruel to the immortals.

≿━━༺❀༻━━≾ ༻✧༺ ≿━━༺❀༻━━≾

Genre: Angst

Cw: SFW, gn! Reader, mentions of blood and violence, attempted kidnapping at one part, old age

Word Count: 3k

Note: This is my very first attempt at writing a story so don't expect too much! I am also not used to using tumblr so please bear with the bad layout

≿━━༺❀༻━━≾ ༻✧༺ ≿━━༺❀༻━━≾

"Oh my"

Heavy rain started to pour while you were in the middle of scavenging for berries. Seeing as how far you are from your house, you quickly shuffle through the forest to find the nearest shelter, being careful not to slip on muddy areas.

You lived a peaceful life away from other citizens. With your cottage lying in the forest, so as to not be disturbed by other's matters. Although, due to your isolation, you have no one to call a friend. There are days where you felt lonely, with nothing in mind to keep you busy. These were one of those days, so you thought making a new pie recipe would keep you away from those feelings.

"What a shame", looks like the weather was not with you today.

Continuing to trudge through thick foliage, your eyes catch a temple in the distance. You scramble to it's entrance and breath as sigh of relief once the droplets of water stopped hitting your skin. You look around the temple covered with moss and growing plants, with a leak on its roof. The singular window gives light to the room, allowing you to see various eye symbols marked on the wall. Assuming that this is an abandoned temple, you put your basket down and sit as you wait for the rain to stop. Now recognizing how tired you are, you rest against the wall and allow sleep to overcome you.

You feel like your shaking, or better yet, someone is shaking you. A voice is suddenly heard, but you couldn't fully process it.

"hey-...-ho are yo-.."

Your eyes slowly start to open as you see a a blurry face in front of you.

"-nswer me mortal"

Your eyes finally adjust to your surroundings. What sits in front of you is a man wearing a white robe with hair as white as the clouds, skin as smooth as the valleys, and the most beautiful pair of eyes you have ever seen. No amount of jewelry can compete with those eyes, it is like looking at the vast ocean full of life and unknowns.

"It is rude to stare and not answer someone's question you know, especially if you break into their abode."

You snapped out of your thoughts and answered the strange man, "Pardon me sir, I am (Y/N). I was just collecting berries when it started to rain heavily, I stumbled upon this temple to seek shelter. I was not aware that it was occupied."

He scuffed, "I forgive you, although be sure to at least knock or give a sign before entering someone's abode." You nod as you stood up and dusted any of the dirt caught to your clothes. "Are you the keeper of this temple? This is the first time I've ever seen it." You look at him with a curious look, this place is even farther from civilization. How will people be able to visit this temple if it so isolated from the world?

He looks at you with a smirk and proudly says, "Keeper? I am more than that, I am the god to which this temple worships."

Bewildered, you continue to look at him and his prideful face. "A god? Don't be so ridiculous now. This temple seems to be abandoned, with no people insight. Surely the god that lies here is gone now." He looks at you offended, "How bold of you to speak like that to a god, mortal! I sure am the god that this temple dedicates to, Satoru Gojo, the god of infinity!"

Silence filled the room as you continue to stare at each other. Finally, The so-called Satoru Gojo huffed and said, "The rain has stopped an you have overstayed your welcome. Leave now before you face consequences!"

Picking up your basket, you bow and head home. With Gojo continuing to look at your figure until you disappear into the bushes.

"Mortals..."

╔═*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*═╗

The next day, you hold your freshly made pie close as you walk back to the temple.

"What brings you here again? Come to insult me?" Crossing his arms as you reach the entrance of the temple. You bow and present your homemade pie to him, "I come to apologize once more, we set off at the wrong foot yesterday and I wish to correct it. I made this pie for you as an apology" You raise up your head and look at him. Gojo looks at the pie as if it's the shiniest pearl in the entire world. He quickly snatches it from you and starts devouring it with a smile on his face. You relax and give a soft smile as he eats your pie, sighing considering your time making it was worth it. "So you say your the god of this temple? Looking at you again, it isn't so surprising considering that you look out of this world." He looks at you and his prideful face returns once more, "Hah! For once you are correct, I am the most ethereal man you will ever lay your eyes upon! And not to mention the strongest as well. I have saved many cities from doom, and joined the greatest wars. With my six eyes, no man has ever come close to defeating me!" You stare at him as he continues to ramble. Passion evident in his face as he recounts all the stories he has in store. He looks happy now that he has someone to talk to.

"Ah! Now I understand why you are doing all these gestures, you wish to become a follower of mine!" You're snapped out of your stupor, "Huh- wha- no! I just wanted to-" You paused as you look into his eyes. No matter how magnificent they are, they carry a sense of loneliness. Now that you think about it, you have a lot of similarities with Gojo. Isolated from society, no one to be there with you, no one around that is waiting for you to come home. Perhaps being with Gojo could heal that loneliness inside both of you, and if becoming his follower will bring you closer to him then so be it. Gojo waits for your response as you make your decision, "Nevermind. It would be an honor to be considered your follower, Gojo." He lets out a laugh, overjoyed with your choice. "You have a bright mind mortal. From now on I will take you under my hands and protect you, so long as your faith for me stays strong."

You giggled as you stood up and faced him. "I have more pie recipes that I would love to try out. If you'd like, you can accompany me while searching for the ingredients." He crossed his arms, "Making me into one of your helpers? Fine, since you are my follower and have graciously offered me pie."

You cheer as you start to head into the forest, followed by the white haired man.

╔═*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*═╗

"What is this strange thing, it looks poisonous."

"Just try it, it's candy! I promise you, you're gonna love it."

Months have passed since your first meeting with Gojo. You both have gotten closer over time, with the temple being your usual meeting spot. Your usual lonely days are now filled with laughter and quips from both you and Gojo. You now experience the warm feeling of having someone waiting for you everyday, and you were grateful for whatever fate brought you to the temple.

"See, I told you you'd like it."

Gojo is in awe as he continues to savor the candy in his mouth. "Slow down, you might choke- wha- hey that's my candy!" Gojo snatched your candy right out of your hands and quickly gobbled it up. "That was rude Gojo" you pouted as you travelled far just to buy those candies. "Why do you still continue to call me Gojo? You have proven to me that you are a faithful follower of mine, so you may have the honor to call me Satoru."

"Satoru? Anyways, you better pay me back for eating my candy!"

"Ordering your god around? How despicable, have you no respect for your deity?"

"Come on! You're a god, surely you can use your godly powers to make candy appear right now!"

Satoru now looks a little bothered by what you said. "It's not that easy..."

"Do you have magic that can make candy out of thin air? Or maybe one that changes the weather? Oh! Maybe your powers focus more on nature?"

"uh- well no."

"Gods are naturally gifted with powers right? That's what makes them unique. So surely yours is something super amazing right? Is it-"

"I'm not a real god!"

Silence fills the air, Satoru looks away from your shocked form. "What do you mean? You have a whole temple dedicated for you, you have your own title, and your whole form gives off divinity."

"I'm not a real god, or more so I'm not a god anymore."

"What happened?"

He sighs and looks at you, he needs to tell you the truth. "Back then, I had plenty of followers that worshipped me and gave me offerings. I had visitors everyday coming from far away places. I was known to be the strongest god, praised for my power and strength. So when a great war between gods occurred, I was forced to participate. PIt was going well at first with our side winning, but one night, a god destroyed my village and killed all my followers. I got heavily injured while fighting, and I couldn't even save one of them... That's when I stopped participating in the war as I laid in the ruins of my home. When the war was over, humans and gods have already forgotten about my existence. With no more followers, citizens, or anyone that still believes of my existence, I gradually lost my divinity until I am but a simple man..."

Silence filled the atmosphere after Satoru dropped the truth. He couldn't bear to look at you after lying for months, but he felt your head lean onto his shoulder. "Oh Satoru, god or not, I'd still be with you." Silence continues to fill the air as you bask in each other's presence.

╔═*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*═╗

It was supposed to be a normal afternoon. You were on your way to visit Satoru, when you heard footsteps behind you.

"Well, well, well look what we have here boy."

Bandits.

"How much do you think they would cost?"

"A hefty amount, we 'bout to be rich off of this."

They were slowly closing in on you, your adrenaline peeking, you were in fight or flight mode. Seeing that you were outnumbered, you suddenly take off heading for the temple.

Satoru will be there to fight them off

What you didn't anticipate for was for them to catch onto you, feeling a hand grab onto your arm as you were running. You think fast and punch the bandit right on the face as he let go and fell down to the floor. Another one appears and slashes your arm, blood starts to drop from the wound, so you kick him to the ground. Adrenaline fully taking over your body, you ready yourself to make another blow when you suddenly felt someone hit you at the back of your head.

Shit, they snuck up on me

You feel yourself falling, with your head hitting the ground. A warm thick liquid drips at the back of your head and your arm. You couldn't move.

Get up, get up, get up

You feel your consciousness slowly fade away as your eyes start to close. Before you could pass out, you see a tall man with white tuft hair stand infront if you.

Satoru

The world goes dark.

The next time your consciousness starts to come back, you feel soft hands touching your arm. You slowly open your eyes and the first thing you see are two cerulean eyes that seemed as if it was glowing.

"(Y/N) your awake!"

"Satoru? What happened?"

You sit up from the matt you were laying in as you process where you are. You're at the temple, but weren't you just surrounded by bandits?

"I heard commotion near the temple, and I saw you getting attacked and I-I had to step in to stop them. Yo-you were bleeding on the floor, and-and I thought you would die- Oh, you're bleeding through your bandage, let me replace it!" You feel his hands slightly quivering as they start to unwrap the bandage around your arm. "No no it's fine I can do it-" You feel a single drop of tear land onto your arm, as you look up you realize Satoru is crying. "Shit- I'm so sorry I wasn't there. If I had just been there sooner-! Shit why am I so useless-" you gently hold his cheek and make him look at you. "Satoru, It's okay, I'm with you right here right now. No one is here to attack me and you anymore thanks to you. Thank you, you did a great job."

He wraps his arms around you and holds you close as he lets more tears drop while lying on your shoulder.

"Thank you Satoru, thank you."

╔═*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*═╗

Years has passed since the incident. Your connection with Satoru has grown stronger. No more secrets kept from each other, emotions set free when in the presence of the other, everything was perfect.

"How did you even find this?"

"I found it when I was exploring the forest a few weeks ago."

You and Satoru stand before a flower field, with the wind blowing the flowers enhancing the view. At the center stand an old willow tree that is a fit place for shade.

As you both sit down under the willow tree, you open your basket to get the food out. Wind blows your hair that was starting to turn grey. Reach your hand out, holding three candies, you toss it to Satoru as he continues to look at the field.

"You better savor that, I spent my last pennies to buy those."

"It's so beautiful."

You paused to look at Satoru staring at the scenery. His eyes glimmering as it stares in awe.

"It is beautiful."

Satoru turns to look at you and softly smiles, the glimmer in his eyes still seen. He puts the candy aside and starts picking up the flowers beside him. He starts to make a ring made out of flowers, twisting and securing the flowers onto each other. Once he was done, he grabs your hand slips the finger in. "A ring for my loyal follower as a promise to be there for them no matter the situation. And look, it perfectly fits you!" You look at the ring and smile. You decide you should make one for him to, so you let go of his hand and quickly make on yourself. Finished with your work, you grab his hand and slip the ring in as well, "For my god, a promise to always follow him wherever he may go."

The day continues with you two eating the meal you prepared and bantering between each other.

"First one to reach the temple gets to have the others candy for the next month!"

"Ah! That's unfair! I'm not as young and fast as I was before!"

Today was perfect

╔═*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*═╗

Another few years have gone by. You both agreed to make the flower field your now usual meeting spot since the temple was too far from your cottage, and your legs couldn't travel that far anymore. Wrinkles started to become more evident on your body, hair about to be fully grey, and bones too weak to hold you up for hours.

"Your quieter today Satoru. What's got you so silent?" You lay your back on the bark of the tree as Satoru lays his on your lap. "Nothing, I just feel lonely today."

"Lonely? When I'm right here? Is this your way of saying I'm not enough to keep you company anymore?" You huffed and he quickly sits up "No! No! It's not that, it's just that you had a really hard time walking here and I had to assist you. It reminded me of your mortality, and that days won't always stay like this anymore."

"Oh Satoru. It's true, the passage of time could be so cruel and one day I wouldn't be here to be beside you anymore. But that's life isn't it? It's both sad and beautiful. Even so, when I am no longer walking on this Earth, remember me in your memories and I will live forever with you."

You see Satorus eyes start to gloss up as tears are starting to collect, "How cruel of you to say that, mortal." A few tears drips from his eyes as he ones again lays on your lap. "Oh stop with the tears you crybaby, It isn't gonna make me any younger." There was no malice, or annoyance in your tone, rather all that was left was melancholy as you spoke softly

"Thank you Satoru for everything"

╔═*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*═╗

You rarely visited after that day, barely being able to reach the field as your body grows weak overtime. Until you just stopped visiting altogether, Satoru stayed patient thinking that you were just extra tired, but when you haven't visited in a week, he had to visit you to make sure your okay.

Satoru knocks on the door of your cottage, when no one came to open it he decided to invite himself in.

The house was quiet with your furniture looking as if it wasn't used in a while. He sees the door to your bedroom open and sees you lying on your bed.

He enters your room quietly. You look frail, weak, vulnerable. Like you were only one step away from the doors of death. Your body stiff and can barely move, your eyes closed as if you couldn't open it for too long, and your breathing soft and steady.

"(Y/N), time to wake up. We're late from our usual schedule, we should be making flower crowns by now..."

No response

"Sorry that I just barged in here uninvited. I was too excited and wanted to see you again."

No response

"I'm sorry too if I turned out to be a jerk sometimes, but you know there's nothing that can fix that...I'm sorry if I also failed to be your god- your companion- your partner. I wish I could've done more to make this life of yours more memorable."

No response.

"You were always the one thanking me, but this time I want to thank you. Thank you for showing me that there was still something worth living for in my cursed life. Thank you for believing in me, seeing my worth even though I couldn't see it myself. And thank you for being my everything."

No response

"No matter how many centuries past, you will you continue to be held dear in my heart."

He perks up when he noticed your finger twitched and breathing hitched. You slowly open your eyes and look at Satoru. You couldn't open your eyes fully anymore, and all you could see was a blurry image of a white haired man. But you know your Satoru by heart, so you smile the best that you could. He holds your hand as you open your mouth.

"Satoru, you came."

He looks at you, eyes filled with sadness, as he holds your hand tighter and gives you a smile.

"Yeah, I'm right here just like I promised."

"I'm so happy."

You give him one last smile before you decide to finally let go. Feeling content with the life you lived, you close your eyes and allow death to take over.

Satoru feels your body turn cold while holding your hand. His hands quivering as he lets the tears fall on his cheeks. Now that you were gone, he let go of his strength and let his emotions.

Sobs fill the room as a god is left alone once more.

[oepionie]

A DIFFERENT TYPE OF CONTRACT. azul ashengrotto

"…You already hate me as it is so it’s not like i have nothing to lose here."

Synopsis: Azul has dragged you into contract after contract and you've taken it all like a champ. However, when he asks you to be his date for an event, you become so upset that an argument breaks out. In the midst of it, Azul accidentally blurts out his feelings for you.

Character/s: Azul Ashengrotto x GN! Reader

A/N: GUYS IM SO PROUD OF THIS WORK HEHE

Tags: Slight enemies-to-lovers, Fluffy Hurt/Comfort, Arguments, Mentions of drowning, Slight manipulation, Crying, Azul's love language is dragging you into contracts lol

Word Count: 1.1k+ | 🎸Event Masterlist

“Oh, you have got to be fucking kidding me.” You shake your head, barking out laughter. Floyd gleefully laughs along with you, skipping forward and jabbing a heavy hand against your back. The action made you stumble to the floor, which only served to further intensify your anger towards the octopus and his little hench-eels. "Another one of your stupid contracts?!" 

Azul smiles coolly, clasping his hands atop his table loaded with shimmering magical contracts and various ink pots — all meticulously arranged in an orderly layout, of course. He snapped his fingers and Jade strode over, swiftly handing his 'boss' a singular sheet of paper.

"Why, of course!" Azul's eyes crinkled in mirth as he turned the paper to face you. A leather-clad finger pressed against the sheet, pointing to the title. "How could I not pass up an opportunity like this?"

"EMPLOYMENT CONTRACT" was written in bold cursive lettering, the bleeding dark black ink making it pop out and almost seem as if it was mocking you in your predicament. Your jaw dropped, a look of surprise flashing across your face before a scowl quickly replaced it. "Me?! How desperate are you for new employees?"

“Oh, such an insult to my pride as an entrepreneur! I would never employ anyone I deem…" Azul scrutinizes you with calculating eyes, tucking one arm over his chest as the other fixes his glasses. He rises from his chair and circles around you, his polished shoes clicking against the marble tiles of his office. "…unfit.”

"Yeah~ You're the perfect shrimpy for the job!" Floyd pulled you from your position on the floor, shoving a uniform in your arms. You take a gander at the clothes. It might’ve been the trick of the eye or the light inside the lounge, but the silk almost seemed to have a mystical glow and shimmer. Your eyes dart up to the trio, hesitation crawling up the very depths of your heart.

All three men exchanged sardonic smiles with sly glints in their eyes. It's unusual for a stranger to pique their curiosity, but you possessed something most of their victims don't: you were such an odd little human.

"Welcome to the staff, prefect." Jade smiles curtly. "I do hope you don't disappoint."

—

It's official, you hate fish.

Working in Monstro Lounge for the past few weeks was nothing but underwater hell. Truly, you had to give both Jade and Floyd credit for having the patience—or rather, tolerance—to deal with all these self-important customers. If you had to make another 'double blend venti coffee frappuccino with whipped cream, additional ice, honey blend, and caramel drizzle' order for that one Pomefiore regular, you think you might have just lost your mind.

As if the annoying customers weren't already enough, Azul was always requesting for further favors. Really, there were occasions when you felt more like his personal secretary. If it was actually stated in the tiny fine print of the contract, you wouldn't be a surprise.

You've been left victim to all his schemes and whims. Though you could say with confidence that you were able to handle every single demand thrown your way, it's not like you really had a choice in the first place. You had boundaries and this one request of his might just finally push you over the edge.

"I need you to act as my date for an event."

"…y-you want me to what?" You sputtered, features contorting into a grimace. Azul stared at you indifferently, casually looking over his pile of paperwork. So struck by anguish, you failed to see how his hands trembled or how a pink hue spread across his face. 

"A-Ah, you see, I'm under a time constraint and seeing as you're the only one available, you may accompany me." Azul replied, adjusting the lapels of his jacket. "T-There's no one else to run to, so I'll have to settle for you."

'I'll have to settle for you.' The way he said it so nonchalantly and bluntly made you gnash your teeth together. How could he just push you aside like that? Like you were just some insignificant bystander in his life.

"Using me again, huh?" You laughed bitterly, tears pricking at the corner of your eyes. Stupid. You were so stupid for developing feelings for this octopus. Azul blinked at you owlishly, watching as a lone tear ran down your cheek. "Pardon…?"

"Nevermind that. Screw this, I'm leaving!" You pulled your suit jacket off, discarding it onto the floor as you cut across the tables, moving towards the exit. Azul scurried after you, protests shooting out of his mouth.

"You-! We have a contract you can't just do as you wish!" He bellows, unadulterated anger coiling around him in a ruthless grip. The octopus seized you by the arm, yanking you around to face him. Scoffing, you attempt to shove him away, but he grabs you by your elbows. "Great Sevens—Damn me! Why are you so stubborn, prefect?!"

"Why can't you just let go?! What is with you and dragging me into contracts?!" You shriek, lifting your knees to kick at his shins.

"​It's because I like you!" Azul bellows, grasping onto your shoulders, his chest heaving. Clamping your mouth shut, you fell silent. The octopus's eyes widened with saturated horror as he scurried away from you, disregarding the sickening vertigo in his head in his haste.

"Sevens—I'm so careless." Azul groans, dragging a hand down his face before pounding his fist against a table. He tugs at his hair, doubling over as a wave of nausea hits him.

"W-What?" you ask, tone wavering. You moisten your lips as you meet the merman’s eyes. "Azul, what?"

He peers at you through his parted fingers, shakily standing straight once more.

"…You already hate me as it is, so it’s not like i have nothing to lose here." He breathlessly blunders out, eyes glossy with tears from being overcome with embarrassment. "I like you. I-I've liked you ever since the very day I met you."

Fear gripped him right down to his soul as his heart was left torn open; Bare for you to see. He comes to a halt, feet anchored to the floor, as you ponder the gravity of his confession.

Is this how sailors reacted to the song of a siren? You knew all too well that the minute you accepted, Azul would lure you into the depths of his heart, where you would never again be able to emerge. Would you sacrifice the world above to drown for your infatuation yet be rewarded with love from a charming octopus below?

"Azul…" You whisper, deft fingers creeping up his hot cheeks. He shudders at your touch, turning putty under your frigid, piercing gaze. Azul's mouth parts open, but words fail him.

"I'll be your date. Though you really don't need a contract for that." Leaning forward, you pressed a scorching kiss against his lips and the deal was set.

Likes and Reblogs are greatly appreciated and really motivating on my end!

@keedas @spadecentral @crypticbibliophile @pastellepastary @cassidycampfire @cocomollo @poisonioushearts @anonima-2 @kawaiipotatoghost @ramvuda @sweeneyblue1 @the-lost-anime-dad

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[crappy-writings]

The Run and Go

Natasha RomanoffxEx-Widow!Reader // Enemies to Lovers(Ish), Angst, Series (?)

*Images are not mine, credit to its sources and creators

Prompt: You, an ex-Red Room graduate turned mercenary, take up an assignment to retrieve some sensitive information from the Triskelion. You run into Natasha as you escape, much to your anger. You can’t seem to escape her after this first encounter as different circumstances force you to work together.

Summary: The Triskelion’s infiltration was going so well. That was until a certain redhead makes an appearance, leading to a long-awaited confrontation.

Trigger Warning: Poorly researched hacking concepts and lingo, bad spy/escape sequence, guns, google-translated Russian, swearing, canon-typical violence, implied/mentioned physical and emotional child abuse, the Red Room, bad fight scene, minor injury, let me know if I need to add more.

Word Count: 3,858

A/N: Did I watch Iron Man 2, Captain America and the Winter Soldier and Black Widow, analyzing Nat’s and other Widows’ fight styles? Yes, yes I did. Was I successful in writing an interesting fight scene in line with what I saw? Probably not, no, but here we are. 

Let me know if anything needs to be fixed!

Part 2 ->

Main Masterlist | MCU Masterlist | Recced Fics

Breaking into the Triskelion had been almost effortless. It was easy to slip into its walls without raising suspicion, to become invisible once inside. No one expects a mouse to simply walk into the cat’s den. Then again, you were not a mouse, and the cat thought itself untouchable. 

There was no air of importance to your stride, no urgency in your steps. Your clothes showed little rank, most agents barely sparing you a first glance as you walked through the hallways alongside them, not realizing you were most definitely not one of them. Pride was always the downfall of man, you thought. 

The hallways and floors all seemed the same to you. The absence of windows was glaring in the lower levels, being only lit up by white, fluorescent lights, basking the stone walls in a similar hue. The floors were a familiar, polished, gray color, reflecting the light upwards. Despite the unoriginality of the corridors, you’re able to find the control room rather quickly, having already memorized the interior layout of the building before even dreaming of stepping inside. It was somewhat dark inside the control room, mainly lit up by the several rows of screen monitors and a few of the same fluorescent lights that decorated the hallways.

There was a singular agent in there when you stepped inside. He barely looks up from his screen, unbothered by your sudden intrusion. You pick a desk and sit down, beginning your search for the files your employer had asked for. 

There was a vulnerability in one of the system's firewalls, one you quickly exploited. It took you longer than you wanted to admit, but you were able to completely break through it, making it easier to find the necessary files. A cough interrupted your concentration, causing you to turn to look at the agent sharing the space with you. His eyes never strayed from his own monitor, raising a cup to his lips as he continued to type away on his keyboard. After confirming you were still in the clear, you returned to your work.

It took you a few extra minutes to find the ones you were looking for but were able to download all of them onto the pendrive given to you by your employer. Once you had everything, you deleted all the information you took from S.H.I.E.L.D.’s servers. You even deployed a nasty virus that will keep them occupied for a few days for good measure. 

There is a small part of you that feels satisfaction at having been able to take something from the organization as easily as you had. You stand nonchalantly from the seat you had claimed as yours, approaching the communal pot of coffee hidden away in one of the room’s corners. The singular agent hidden behind his monitor just barely acknowledges you, his eyes leaving his monitor for a few seconds before returning to his work. You serve yourself some coffee in a paper cup, taking a few sips before slipping out of the room.

The problem had never been getting in. No, it was about getting out.

The walk to the elevator was relatively short, the hallway empty as you made your way towards it. It was almost eerie, the way things were going, given that it was typically around this part where you would walk into some form of trouble. You knew that downloading that information was going to tip off some server moderators, adding an extra layer of difficulty to your escape. Even so, the invisibility you have managed to maintain is still your greatest weapon.

Two agents stepped out of the elevator once it had reached your floor. One of them acknowledged you with a singular nod while the other barely spared you a glance. 

You step into the now empty space, the computer screen showcasing your face, along with a fake alias and a serial ID number. The creation and uploading of the fake S.H.I.E.L.D. agent profile had taken you weeks to accomplish, but its completion was the key to slipping in and out of the building mostly undetected. Having some of the organization’s face-changing technology would have made the infiltration a lot easier, but that technology is too safely guarded for you to have been able to get your hands on it. 

The doors had not shut closed yet, waiting for you to state your destination. “Lobby,” a voice that is not your own rings out from your vocal cords. The voice moderator that you had nicked from one of your past jobs had come quite in handy, especially for this mission. The piece of technology was hidden away under the collar of your stolen uniform, its detection nearly impossible. 

“Confirmed,” the automated voice of the computer rang out into the enclosed space, and finally began its descent. Breathing was becoming an easier task as you were one step closer out the Triskelion’s door. 

The elevator stopped a few times as it continued to go down, letting agents in and out on different floors. Most of their trips were short, some engaging in small talk before exiting the confined space. 

“Controls,” an older man dressed in a blue suit commanded, followed by the computer’s robotic voice, “Confirmed.” He had a kind face, dark brown eyes aged with crow’s feet and his hair white and thinning.

“Working hard or hardly working?” the man asked, his tone light and jovial, as the elevator continued its descent. You sent him a friendly smile, adding a small chuckle for good measure. 

“Not sure yet,” you replied, not dropping the smile, “Every day is unpredictable in S.H.I.E.L.D.”

The man replied with a chuckle of his own, “That, it is.” The elevator opened into another level, allowing the man to step out. He sends you a friendly smile as he departs, leaving you alone in the confined space once more.

You reach the lobby shortly after. The space was wide, a glass canopy overhead, allowing the warm glow of sunlight to stream in. The walls were decorated with a mixture of off-white stone, dark tile and stained wood, the floor a dark gray that complemented the space nicely. S.H.I.E.L.D.’s emblem was showcased proudly in the very center of the room, reminding everyone who walked inside of where they stood.

The lobby was full of people, some dressed in nice, neutral-colored suits, while others were dressed in tactical gear. Security hung around the entrances and exits, eyes sharp as they overlooked the crowd. 

There was purpose in your stride now. The longer you took to get out, the larger the possibility of getting caught. It was only a matter of minutes before someone noticed the missing information that burned in your uniform pocket, if they did not know already. 

You made your way across the lobby unperceived. The sense of satisfaction from a successful mission had begun to bloom in your chest as you easily blended into the large group of agents that zipped in and out of the building. That was until you felt the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end, the sensation of a pair of eyes staring you down from somewhere behind you making you come to a stop.

Your eyes scanned the room methodically, until you spotted a set of familiar green eyes and fiery red hair, ones you thought you would never see again. There was a flicker of recognition in her features, but it lasted for less than a second, slipping on her perfectly crafted mask of indifference, her expression unreadable as neither of you break eye contact. A wave of burning hot emotion overcomes you, before you stamp it out. Emotion is a weakness. Emotion is for children. Emotion gets you killed. 

Neither one of you had looked away from each other, as if a silent conversation was being held between the both of you. You subtly raise your head, your eyes narrowed and daring. It was a silent challenge, and invitation to your long-awaited encounter. It was a dangerous game to play while in the confines of hundreds, if not thousands, of highly trained agents, especially when one of those agents was Natasha Romanoff, but it was one you would play, nonetheless. 

You’re the first one to break eye contact with her, quickly becoming invisible within the crowd of agents. A cat has spotted you and was about to give chase. 

It would almost be thrilling to be running from the Black Widow turned Avenger, were it not for the blazing resentment snaking its way through your chest. It had been years since you last saw her, her defection to the very organization you just stole from had left you filled with a sense of bitterness and betrayal. 

The rest of your journey towards the garage went uninterrupted, but you know she was somewhere nearby, following your moves closely as you weaved through the lower levels. Spotting the redhead had suddenly made you itch for a fight, adrenaline fueling your body. 

Your bike comes into view as you reach the final garage level. The vehicle was hidden away in a secluded part of the parking space, far away from the other cars. The keys jingled in your hand as you pulled them out of your uniform pocket. You would have closed the distance between you and your escape, except that you felt her ghost-like presence lurking from behind you, finally making herself known. 

With a singular deep breath, you stick your hand out to the side, showcasing your keys to her before tossing them forwards, the sound of metal clattering against the smooth asphalt a few feet from your motorcycle.

“I didn’t expect to ever see you again, Romanoff,” your modified voice echoed in the vastness of the garage. Your hand instinctively reaches for your concealed gun, pulling it out in one swift movement as you turn to face her.

“I would say the same to you,” she stood a few feet away from you, her stance paralleling yours, guns raised and aimed at each other’s heads. Her eyes had a hard edge to them as she stared you down, “Why are you here?”

“Just seeing the sights of Washington, D.C. There’re so many museums here, you know?” there is vexation in your tone despite your sarcastic words, “Plus, how could I skip out on admiring the Triskelion’s architecture? Bet the engineers had fun building it.”

The both of you had stepped closer to each other without realizing it, her firearm about a foot away from your own. She ignores your quip, instead choosing to make a go for your gun. You mirror her movements, both of you trading guns before aiming them at one another once more. 

Neither of you said anything as you continued to stare each other down, the tension thick enough to be cut by the edge of a knife. Her eyes were studying yours, searching for something and you’re not quite sure what it is. There was a subtle change in her stance shortly after as she dared you to make the first move. So, you did. You went for her gun again, this time flinging it across the empty garage, the piece of metal skidding across the asphalt. She does the same, the Red Room’s training being activated on pure instinct. 

The beginning of your fight was not a fight at all, though. You were both following a basic combat sequence of simple parries and blows taught to you in the confines of the Red Room. The drill was the one that was taught to the youngest of girls, set to provide them with the basics. It was more of a dance for the both of you, perfectly choreographed and in sync with the others' familiar response. It was child’s play.

For a brief moment, you felt like you were back in the Red Room, the both of you locked in the familiar dance as your handlers watched you engage in a sparring match. The parries and blows you sent each other’s way were predictable, neither of you having the heart to truly fight and hurt the other. Your punishments for your defiance would vary, the ones you remember most being obligated to practice the same ballet move until your feet bled. The other usual punishment was to be made to fight an older Widow, one that would not hesitate to hurt you, to teach you a lesson for holding back. Eventually, your sparring sessions no longer started with the predictable routine of parries and blows, replaced by hard tackles to the ground, bruising kicks and skin-breaking hits.

Old habits die hard, it seems.

Your mind snaps out of it as she grabs hold of your arm mid-swing before securing a hold over your shoulder, allowing her to throw you onto the ground. The wind is knocked out of your lungs, and it takes you a few seconds too long for you to recover. 

“What did you do?” She asks as she manages to hold you in place, her legs straddling your waist while her arms have you pinned down against the ground.

“That’s not your concern, dorogoy,” you smirk up at her as you smash your forehead against her mouth. The distraction allows you enough time to securely grab her by her forearms, your freed legs find her stomach, flipping her over you. She lands roughly a few inches over your own head, the force of the flip enough to leave her stunned for a few moments, allowing you to quickly get to your feet.

“I have to go,” the voice moderator that had been hidden under your collar was knocked loose, your voice sounding strange as you taunt her, “It was nice seeing you.”  You were scooping your bike’s keys from the ground before she pushed you into the vehicle, knocking you both onto the ground.

In hindsight, it was dumb of you to believe she would stay down. 

The back of your head hits against the floor, stars filling your vision for a few moments, your bike tangled under your feet. You feel her grab the fabric of your stolen trainee uniform, dragging you away from your bike and towards one of the garage's walls. 

You struggle against her, managing to break free from her hold. Once back on your feet, you send a few firm punches her way, and she is unable to dodge a few of them. 

You were sloppy in your attack though, as she gets a firm grasp on your arm once more. Her other hand gets a hold of your shoulder and pushes you back up against the building, slamming you against the wall once, twice, three times. A string of coughs escapes you, air not reaching your lungs. You feel the fight begin to leave your body and hate that she was able to incapacitate you. In a last-ditch effort, you press your hands against her face, forcefully pushing against her with all your might. This somewhat works, placing a bit more space between you, enough for you to raise your leg, and knee her in the stomach. This sends her back a few inches and you send another swift kick to the affected area. Your legs react before your mind does, trying to close the distance between you and your knocked over bike, the keys within your view on the ground.

You were still a few feet away when you felt a sharp and burning sting emanate from your lower back, your body locking up against your will and effectively sending you tumbling to the ground. She threw a fucking Widow Bite at you.

“Cheater!” you yell at her, your body completely unable to move. She catches up to you, one arm cradling her stomach, before grabbing you by the scruff of the stolen uniform and dragging you up against the nearest wall. Your body felt numb, every single one of your nerve endings having been lit on fire mere seconds ago.

“I’m not gonna ask you again, what the fuck are you doing here?” her tone is hard and almost dangerous, her eyes scanning over every single one of your features in search of any telltale signs of a lie. It was only now that you realized that she was bleeding from her slightly swollen lip, a trail of crimson running down her chin. There’s a small, sick sense of pride that settles within you as you watch the blood flow from the split lip you gave her. 

“Fuck you, Romanoff, I don’t owe you shit,” the familiar sparks of anger were building up inside your chest. 

“Answer the question,” her tone is even and low. It was not until now that you realized she had picked up one of the discarded firearms, the barrel of the gun being pointed directly at your head. Something within you was emboldened by this, leaning forwards as the tip of the gun presses lightly against your forehead.

“You’re not gonna shoot me,” your eyes staring directly into hers in defiance.

“How are you so sure about that?” she asked through narrowed eyes, digging the barrel further into your skin, her finger hugging the trigger but not squeezing it. 

“Because you would have shot me the second you saw me if you truly wanted me dead,” you reply, and the words taste bitter in your mouth. There is a visceral hatred in the gaze you level at her, the teasing air that had coated your initial confrontation having completely dissolved. 

“Why are you so angry at me?”

The question had been so simple. It made you want to explode. 

“Did-did you seriously just ask me that? I have to tell you?” you almost choke on the acidity that coursed through your tongue as you spoke those words. A bitter laugh makes its way past your lips, your head shaking slightly as a sense of indignation floods your chest. 

“Tell me Natalia, did you think that everything would be magically solved the day you defected?” The burning sensation of unfiltered anger and overwhelming resentment are spilling out of you, and you do your best to push them away forcefully. Your mask cannot break. Your mask will not break.

Emotion is a weakness. Emotion is for children. Emotion gets you killed.

The words repeated over and over again in your head, a never-ending chant driven into you by your handlers. Emotion had always been the one thing that you struggled with in the program as a child, constantly making you hesitate and clouding your judgment. Your handlers recognized this weakness in you, and they worked you tirelessly, trying to stomp it out of you. Your struggle against emotion is what got you recycled four times before you finally graduated.

Natasha’s face gave away no indication of what she was thinking. Her features were schooled perfectly into a mask of indifference, and that made you all the more angry.

“I had to get out,” she defends herself; the gun being slightly lowered. 

“I don’t care,” you want to yell, you want to scream, but you don’t, “You leaving made The Red Room all the more difficult to survive.”

Something about what you just said made a crack in Natasha’s mask. It was nearly imperceivable, but you saw the twitch her brows made at your statement. 

“The Red Room doesn’t exist anymore. Dreykov is dead,” she states factually. Her tone was so confident, so sure, you almost believed her. But she was wrong. He may have gone into hiding, never showing his face, but his whispers still rang inside the halls of the Red Room, his fingers choking the life out of every Widow still stuck there. His presence was a stain that would never leave.

You can’t suppress the bitter laugh that escapes you, “Is that what S.H.I.E.L.D. told you?”

The numbing feeling that had spread throughout your body was beginning to wear off. There’s a small twitch in your leg, one that Natasha notices and she knows she is running out of time. 

“I was there, we rigged bombs up a five-story building,” Natasha recounts, her eyes taking a similar hard edge from earlier. 

“The Red Room still exists, Natasha,” you talk low and slowly, your tone was no longer defensive or angry. She needs to know she is wrong. “Dreykov isn’t dead.”

“It’s impossible, I killed him,” she restated adamantly. Her mask was slowly cracking, but you do not feel victorious about it. 

“He’s alive, Romanoff. I’m not fucking with you,” your tone was exasperated, “Why would I lie?”

“Why are you here?”

“Chert poberi,” the curse slips past your lips, your annoyance at the redhead radiating off of you, “I took a job, I’m a mercenary now, that’s all you need to know.” You finally push yourself off the ground, your legs stumbling slightly as the pins and needles continue to prickle under your skin. She allows you to stand, backing away from you with her gun still trained on your head. 

“Listen, I don’t care if you believe me or not. Dreykov is not dead, and the Red Room is still alive and well. You don’t need me to tell you what happens in there,” you shook your head gently as the familiar, bitter taste of your words coat your tongue. 

You made no effort to move away from her yet, despite desperately wanting to leave. Her gun was still trained on you, and you were beginning to doubt whether or not she would actually shoot you. A single wrong move could mean the difference between life and death, or worse, getting turned in. 

But she was no longer focused on you. Her mask had slipped off, and for the first time since you were children, you could read every emotion in her eyes. There was conflict there, torn between the lie she had convinced herself of and the reality of your words. There was wariness in her gaze, but there was something else too, something bigger.

It was guilt. 

She believes you.

You begin to move away from the wall she had you pinned against, your bike about ten feet away from you. It’s clear she has no intentions of stopping you, instead lowering her gun slowly, her eyes never leaving yours.

She… she was letting you go.

The gaze you send her is cautious and untrusting, but you continue to move away from her, nonetheless. She eventually breaks the eye contact you had maintained, her eyes dropping down to the ground, her breaths slow, heavy and unsteady. There is enough space between the both of you for you to run. You caution one last look at her, but she has not moved a muscle. 

“See you around, Romanoff,” Your tone is not victorious nor teasing, it’s dejected and almost sad.

With that, you run towards your bike, scooping your keys from the ground swiftly before driving away, leaving Natasha behind with her thoughts.

Part 2 ->

[littletism]

if anyone’s feeling insecure because other regressors have one singular aesthetic that they stick to all the time, you don’t have to do that and nobody is expecting you to.

if you’ve seen my many layout changes, you know i don’t have one aesthetic! one day i love soft pink things, the next day i love bright colors and rainbows, the next i love hot pink/teencore, and the next i love red and black gothic styles. it’s okay to like lots of different aesthetics or not have an aesthetic at all! enjoying many aesthetics doesn’t make you “confused” or anything like that, you just have broad tastes and that’s a good thing! and not enjoying any aesthetics and just liking whatever you like is a good thing too!

just enjoy what you enjoy. it’s your blog, your regression, and your life. if someone doesn’t like that they can leave!

[jamesleech]

A little late but super proud to share my contributions to Artists Remaking Medicine by Emily F Peters and Procedure Press - a book on art's collaborative role in healthcare and medicine.

My favourite piece to put together (slide one) shows the story of Yoko and Avery Sen. Yoko is an electronic musician who fell ill and was bombarded by the dissonance of the ICU environment and relentless beeping of her monitoring equipment. She lamented what she thought would have been the final sounds she'd hear.

Thankfully, Yoko pulled through, and with her partner Avery, have since worked with one of the largest companies in this space to redesign their alarm tones.

The rectangular vignettes in this drawing are meant to mirror the rhythm of the monitor's beeping, as are the tiny highlights that curve across the layout within each one. I wanted to express the feeling of being with a loved one in the ICU; the warmth of old memories and the presence of those closest to you interlocking with the reality of an incredibly difficult situation and an annoying fricken beep beep beep beep beep beep beep

Thank you to the singular Joanne Lam for bossing me around

[intotheelliwoods]

Collaborative 2AL Comic Calling and Info!

Oh BOY did this blow up...

Ive polished up dialogue and framing, in total there should be 30 panels, exactly the tumblr image limit haha! Everyone who is participating gets to draw a panel! I will message you the dialogue, and a general layout once I get everyone in! :) I look forward to this!

30/30 Participants [full!]

If you are interested in joining, please message me here on tumblr or Discord! [Discord would be preferred in the long run]

--------

-> Deadline for panels?

2 Weeks! Hoping everything can be ready to go to post by September 24th!

---

-> What style to use?

Your own! I would love it if you can have as much fun as you can making the panel! The more unique each panel is the better, I dont want to constrict anyones artistic ability outside dialogue, where characters are in a room, and a vague framing idea/expressions.

As for coloring, fully colored and digital would be preferred! Just blue blobs can also work! With the exception of 4 specific panels, flashback panels, in a black/white/red scheme to help differentiate what panel is a flashback, and what panel isnt. I will let you know if your panel is one of those specific 4!

---

-> How will posting and crediting work?

When the panels are all done, I will gather them up into a singular post on this blog. Below the comic itself in order of panels would be everyones @ to the blog they want credited, Multiple blogs can also be credited ofc (For example If you drew panel 3 you will be the third @ on the list)

You are also free to add a signature or @ to your blog in the panel art itself!

[p8rasite]

FINE.  ›  SUNG HANBIN ݃ 0612

synopsis.. where hanbin says it too often, he starts to believe he is.. until he isn’t.

muses.. roommate! hanbin x gn! reader

pantone.. angst & comfort ft. and they were roommates

cw + tap the mic.. self-doubt, reader kinda dislikes hanbin & mention of drinks + first zb1 writing let’s gaur! this was a mix of request & word vomit so i hope this is good enough 🥺 also new layout : @/stealanity & @/chiyuv

“no one’s here, come again in four to seven business weeks.”

you bite the inside of your cheek. as clear as it is that hanbin doesn’t want to entertain anyone at the moment, you refuse to let him be. not when he’s isolating himself within those four walls. not when you can just tug that handle and let yourself in.

so you do.

the abrupt bang of the door against the wall was slightly.. over the top, but at least it got his attention. well, more like his frown, but you can be bothered about the details some other time.

“what are you doing in here?” he mumbles, voice lacking its usual coat of vibrancy. this time, it’s soft and fragile, just like its owner.

you shrug your shoulders. “the kitchen told me you haven’t visited it in a few days so i’m checking in on you on their behalf.”

he chuckles, but even that sounds so hollow. another sign that he isn’t your roommate, but a shell of him. and as much as you hate to admit it, you’re even more a tad bit worried.

“may i?” you gesture to the space next to him, shortly receiving a nod. sitting on the floor—legs stretched out and back slouched against the wall—isn’t ideal, especially not when there’s a queen sized bed just a few steps away. although, given why you’re here in the first place, you suppose you could refrain from complaining this time.

(singular—you’re already stressing that before your friends can make assumptions.)

the two of you let silence wrap around you like a blanket, one neither of you seem eager to remove. you excuse your awkwardness by claiming you want to take in your new surroundings before moving further. to which, in fairness, makes sense because this is your first time in his room.

weird, isn’t it? living in a place where you’re familiar with everything but your roommate and his space. there were times where he left his door ajar enough for you to catch glimpses inside, but nothing could have prepared you to see it in its entirety.

so tidy, so cozy, so.. hanbin.

the young man in question fidgets with his sweater’s sleeve, a loose thread in particular. a translucent pane of absentmindedness hovers over his cocoa-tinted irises as he twists the material between his lithe fingers.

“i don’t know what’s missing,” hanbin gauges your reaction (seemingly blank, actually surprised) before continuing. “i gave everything i had to them, constantly tried to do and be my best self to make up for the things i lack, yet they still left.”

you nervously rub your palms upon your thighs, unsure where to pick up after such a heavy confession. there’s also that guilt that chews on your soul as you come to realize that this little mister perfect persona of his isn’t just for attracting people.

it’s supposed to convince those he loves to stay.

with this newfound understanding, you finally speak up, “them leaving isn’t on you.”

his brows furrow, lips slightly parting to reject your words but you lift your hand to cover his mouth. probably not the best idea, ‘specially not when he can just make muffled sounds through the makeshift gag, but it’ll have to do. all you need is for him to listen to you, no interruptions allowed.

“you gave almost all of yourself to them, which isn’t wrong—almost every person who’s been in love has done that. but that isn’t enough to make the relationship work because there’s two of you. now, either it’s a responsibility that they can’t or don’t want to face, which is why they broke up with you.

whichever it is, the fault still lies with them. and that, binnie, is why you shouldn’t be beating yourself up on this. yes, it’s okay to grieve what has been lost. but at the end of the day, you should acknowledge and accept that it isn’t your fault.”

you’re completely winded by the end of your speech, you don’t realize your hand had pulled away halfway through it. but then you notice the upward curve of his lips, and your eyes instinctively narrow at the suspicious sight.

“did i say something funny?”

he shakes his head and points out, “you called me binnie.”

..damn. you were so caught up in your rant that you hadn’t noticed your mistake. with a light hit at his shoulder, you grumble, “don’t read too deep into it, i just heard one of your friends constantly call you that so it slipped.”

“are you sure~?”

“yes.”

“very sure~?”

“..‘right, that’s the end of our therapy session. i expect you to pay me with a cup of karak tea later.” a groan emerges from the deepest part of your tired soul as you get back on your feet, backside sore from maintaining the same position for at least 10 minutes.

right as you’re on your way out, hanbin calls your name. intrigued confused as to what else he’d need, you take the chance and turn around. those busy fingers you noticed earlier? now they’re put together to make a unique heart gesture.

“thank you for keeping me company and opening my eyes to the bigger picture.” the warmth and cheeriness hasn’t been fully restored yet, but you can hear a sliver. and regardless of whether you admit it or not, you feel proud of yourself for assisting in bringing it back.

“no need to thank me, matters like this are why roommates were made.”

(uh huh, sure..)

❀ ... ⃕ not sure if i’ll make a taglist but feel free to donate to my kofi ! now, would you like to return to the masterlist? yes / no.

[desire-mona]

more modern poets hcs for greenie!

charlie -

charlie used to post like "annoying gay ppl vs normal gay ppl" memes, had a huge turnaround and they cringe when they think of that time. mentioning blaire white or kalvin garrah would make him jump

has an "i <3 milfs" design of every article of clothing, could make an entire i <3 milfs outfit. shirt, hat, pants, socks, belt, shoes, hoodie, you name it.

todd -

todd is nonbinary bc he is autistic and autistic ppl generally view gender differently. not debating this. this is a fact and this is canon. they/he/she todd anderson, what of it.

chronic procrastinator when it comes to anything besides school. they will put off doctors appointments, finishing tv shows, even charging their phone.

neil -

doesnt use tiktok but he watches todd scroll thru her fyp sometimes and gets very mad at those "acting pov" videos. hes like "WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN ACTING POINT OF VIEW" "POINT OF VIEW YOU ONLY HAVE A LIMITED NUMBER OF WORDS???????? WHAT DOES THAT MEEEEEAN"

i see ppl saying that neil would be a swiftie but i would like to suggest that he's a big ethel cain fan, a collection of songs that tell a fictional character's story? tell me thats not right up his alley

meeks -

i dont think this is the type of math meeks bases a career off of but i do think he rly pays attention to architecture and city layouts and stuff. will forever complain abt how inconvenient it is to have a car centered society and how every place should be walkable OR have public transport

collects records despite not having a record player, tapes despite not having a walkman, and cds despite using his cd player maybe 3 times a year. quite honestly its just to have a physical collection of his music taste

pitts -

pitts went thru a "nice guy/ vaguely incel-ular" phase in middle school, but he didnt talk to a singular woman in those years. by the time it went away there was no harm done to anyone but himself and a very annoyed meeks who had to listen to how girls "only go for assholes"

he has a fashion sense so good that ppl online *ask* him to post fit checks, he doesnt do any if theyre not requested of him. pitts is also the one with the biggest online presence, most notably tiktok and twitter

knox -

type of guy to constantly post shit like "like for a tbh" or post anonymous question things on his story. nobody interacts with any of it so he usually just deletes them after half a day

haaaaaaaates texting and will either send very long voice messages or just ask to call whoever he's talking to (me fr i send ppl voice msgs almost exclusively)

cameron -

cam is suuuuuuuper creeped out by ai "art", especially the ai washing feet commercial during the superbowl, which he had nightmares about for a week

his parents are constantly trying weird diets (most notably keto) so he has the weirdest assortment of random ingredients in his pantry. has come up with the strangest "meals" any one of those boys have ever seen