#redheaded vengeance

[christinered]

"California animals...Dude."

"This is like a Puffy party."

You know the old saying.."It takes one to know one"?

Animals know their own kind.

Not surprising at all.

Just saying.

~BrooklynRed

[purgetrooperfox]

How has it felt to be the CEO of Foxblogging while fandom went through this whole evolution from hating him to babygirlifying him?

kddbdkdjd well I'm not the ceo of foxposting but it's certainly been interesting,,,,,, I spent my first stint of sw brainrot (and fox brainrot) just lurking and iykyk that people were uhhhhh. little haters. up until recently. like pre-covid maybe? not sure when I started really interacting with people but until 2020ish I did Not want to engage with the popular* fanon for him at all

so I dunno it's cool that people use a little more critical thinking than "he killed fives so he's evil" now and it's neat that people don't crawl up your ass (much) for liking him and it's fun to have a little circle of mutuals who are huge brained about him

*popular is generous. it wasn't many people but they had shared hcs, as was their right

[christinered]

Nah...I think it should have been worse.

Just saying.

~Red

[silhouetteonpaper]

Vengeance

Summary: You decide to take matters into your own hands and get revenge on the person you despise most. But what happens when you keep it a secret from the entire team? Natasha Romanoff x Reader WC: 1,585 Warnings: Mentions of killing, running away

VENGEANCE

The entire team is on edge, each Avenger crowding around whatever device they have on hand in Tony’s lab. Frantically typing, tapping, calling, or watching—you’ve been missing for the past hour and no one has any clue where you could be.

It’s unlike you to step foot out of the compound without letting anyone know, whether it’s a quick text in advance or by word of mouth. But this time Natasha knows something is up, there’s a reason you didn’t let anyone know you were leaving.

The only evidence that led the team to worry is the singular missing quinjet from the landing pad. Tony attempted to track it earlier, but all communication with the vessel had been cut. Now, desperate for answers, they venture to use whatever resources possible to figure out where you could have gone.

“It’s a blank trail. Wherever she’s going, she made sure no one would know.” Tony voices, scrolling through maps of different flight radar. A part of him feels guilty for even teaching you how use stealth mode on the jet. Natasha’s expression furrows as she scans security camera footage for any other signs, inhaling sharply each time the grainy deleted footage appears.

“C’mon Nat. We’ll keep an eye out, but until then I think we all need to get some rest.” Steve states as he places a comforting hand on Natasha’s shoulder. She’s reluctant to listen, but eventually complies as the entire team heads to settle down for the night.

The last thing Natasha’s able to do is sleep, she lies in bed trying to shake her worries about you. You seemed fine just the other day, maybe slightly quieter, but on the outside no one could have suspected you were planning anything.

Usually, you’re someone who is eager to please others in work and in life. Always a smiling face as you complete a mission or hang out with the team. Natasha feels lucky to have you around, but now she worries that something she did caused this.

In the past, you had shared your grief over the live you lived before coming to the compound. In an attempt to console you, she helped you look on the bright side as you began training. But now, replaying all those interactions again, she wonders if it was enough.

Her thoughts begin to spiral, the blame she places on herself growing as the redhead concludes she caused you to leave. These flowing thoughts are suddenly interrupted by the sound of a ringing phone.

Natasha sits up, seeing a call appear on her phone from an unknown number. At this hour, she was confused why anyone would be calling, let alone a contactless ID. Hesitantly picking up the phone, she hits the answer button.

“Hello?” She says into the dead air. Silence. Natasha’s brows cave inward in confusion.

“I thought I was doing the right thing, but now I’m not so sure.” Your familiar voice fills Natasha’s ears, making her sigh with relief. You’re alive, and hopefully safe. She clearly wants nothing more than to bring you back to the compound.

“Where are you? I can come pick you up right now.” The redhead asks, hoping her urgency doesn’t scare you away.

“No, Nat. I…” You trail off. You can’t reveal what you’re doing at the risk of the Avengers trying to stop you. For months you’ve been planning this mission, and you knew no one on the team would support this endeavor. So, during the time spent planning you were careful not to reveal what you were up to.

But why risk your safety over a mission? The answer is simple, a crystal clear priority in your mind. For years, an agent who killed your mother has roamed free. Leaving you with nothing but a desperate search of support, the Avengers took you under their wing. But the anger building inside you had not subsided regardless of time passing.

It’s unfair to even consider the idea her killer gets to live on, with no consequences for his actions. Sure, the team had promised to take care of him when the right time arrived, but those empty words were starting to make you even more impatient. Everyone had thought you were over the idea of getting vengeance, multiple years passing without a word.

But today, you hide away in a secret bunker waiting for the man to show his face, a slight unsettling feeling finding its way into your chest. You had hoped calling Natasha would help chase away the unusual feeling inside, so far just hearing her voice calms your nerves. You take a deep breath, the phone staying silent on the other end as Natasha prays you’ll give her any details on your whereabouts.

“I need to do this,” You state, shaking away the doubts inside. Justice has to be served, even if it’s morally wrong. But what would mother say? The thoughts circulate your mind, the simple task now seeming more difficult than before.

“Do what. I need you to tell me what you’re doing.” Natasha breathes, the tension rising between her concerned state and your spared details. You know she’s worried about you, that the entire team probably is. But you also value executing this mission a lot more than their feelings. Is that harsh? Possibly, but everyone knows how much you value family.

“I think there’s a chance you already know.” You respond. It’s almost too difficult to say the words yourself: I’m killing him. If Nat thought hard enough, maybe she could recall the times you talked about getting your revenge all those years ago.

A sharp inhale informs you that she figured it out on the other end. ���Please don’t do this, please come home.” She pleads through the phone. You can practically picture her worried expression, and the usual protectiveness it often came with.

“You know I can’t do that, Natasha.” Your response brings silence across the call once more, the redhead taking a moment to process. Will she still attempt to stop you? Will she plea for your return again and again?

“We all have monsters in the closet, but you can’t risk your life over trying to get rid of them,” Nat suddenly starts, “You can’t ever make them go away completely.”

Maybe her words have some truth to them, because a pang of guilt in your chest now rises into your watering eyes. “I can try, I have to try!” You remark, your tone growing defensive with anger. Nat killed most of her enemies, she doesn’t understand. You feel betrayed that she’s sitting here telling you what to do while contradicting her own actions.

“Killing him won’t bring your mother back.” Natasha states firmly. You choke on your tears, covering your sobs with your free hand. You won’t let her hear you like this. You won’t let her know she’s right. “Come home, please.” Her words force their way into the swirling grief inside your mind.

Overwhelmed, and now regretting your call, you hang up without another word. Natasha is left in the dark, unable to call you back due to the unknown number leaving no trace. It’s just how you want it, yet something feels wrong about the entire situation.

Nat is right. You never thought you would say that, but it’s true. Killing him won’t bring your mother back, and if anything she wouldn’t support that endeavor either. It’s time to make a decision, one that will change the course of your life either way.

Do you kill the responsible agent and loose trust with the only people you can call family, or do you go back to the compound and feel unaccomplished? Neither sounds appealing, but if you want to leave the dusty bunker you have to make a choice.

The answer that fills you with the least dread was the one that still involves the only family you have. You know that the right path is the one that leads you back to the place you call home. So, you prepare to head back to the compound empty handed. You pack up your things, taking the same route on the jet back to the large white building on the water while your motivation to make a change for the better grows.

Unaware you’d be returning, the landing pad out front is empty as the sleek black quinjet touches down. It doesn’t take long for pattering footsteps to replace the sound of the cooling engine, the entire team now running outside at the sight. The person at the head of the group is none other than Natasha, a sad smile covering her face.

“You were right, killing him won’t bring my mom back.” You admit as you step off the jet, walking up to the redhead. She nods once, putting both her arms on your shoulders before enveloping you into a hug.

She takes a deep breath, relieved to have you back in her arms. “Even if you can’t see how proud your mother is, know how incredibly proud I am.” She voices. It hits you that you didn’t even realize in all your time planning that you didn’t need to prove anything to your mother. You didn’t need to prove anything to anyone. The real love that you so desperately wanted was in front of you this entire time, you just happened to be looking in the wrong place. And thankfully, Natasha would always be here to help you find your way back.

[stealingyourbones]

Submitted Prompts #99

Jazz went to Gotham to finish her degree away from her parents, as their obsession with Ghosts started becoming dangerous to everyone. So, of course, she brought Danny with her, so he's also far away from them and the GIW.

Danny held out a whole year without going out on patrol, just establishing his haunt in the new city. Lady Gotham was very happy to be able to show them to their new place, almost giddy that the little King and his Queen Mother have come to live in her beloved city.

Of course, the first time Phantom floats out of his window and into the night, he has a new suit, made of padded black leather, and a fluffy white cape with a hood (imagine the Lightkin Cloak from Destiny2, but snow white, rather than black and grey), along with a facemask engraved with a fanged design. New haunt, new look, and the new look fit right in with the viciousness of Gotham City.

And, as luck would have it, his first Gotham Rogue was Poison Ivy. Thinking back to his fight against Undergrowth, Pantom opened with his ice, forming a double-sided axe to better cleave her vines apart, and locking Ivy herself down with ice.

To further distance himself from his identity as Phantom, in case the GIW somehow became smart at some point, instead of blasting ice like most ghosts fire ectoblasts, Danny asked Pandora for lessons on fighting with weapons, and Frosbite taught his how to channel his element as an aura, or a freezing breath. He even sat down to listen to Nocturne speak as they wove spells and ectoplasm, and the Personification of Dreams softly taught him how to use his powers through objects acting as catalysts, or as manifestations of his will, rather than throwing his affinities around by brute force.

With his new abilities and look, rather than fight like a feral raccoon, Danny took to fighting more like a spellblade, slinging around ice shard and spells to enhance his physical strikes, controlling the pace of a fight to get the upper hand on his enemies.

Suffice to say, Poison Ivy hadn't expected the Avatar of Icy Vengeance to lock her in a pillar of ice up to her neck while her vines withered into frosty sculptures.

Gotham's newest hero got awarded a new name by the news the next day: Ymir, Frozen Progenitor.

Danny thinks it's too pretentious for a random ghost, or random halfa, like him. Joke's on him, the perception of Gotham's people slowly starts empowering him, slowly enough that the only reason he notices his oncoming Ascension to myth as a Protector Spirit is when a terrified kid begs for his help, and he hears them loud and clear out of nowhere.

The Bats are confused by this Entity. Constantine stepped one foot in Gotham, felt it's cleaner air, the sharp bite of ice in his nose and lungs, and the overwhelming pressure of the new Godling training under Gotham herself to control his new powers, and ran out screaming about not getting paid enough to deal with divine beings. Zatanna is trying to contact Ymir to ask them to join the Justice League Dark.

Jason is vibing with the tall redhead Amazon he's met at Babs' library, and her feral little brother who cured his Pit Rage by biting his arm when they first met. One time Jason is in a pinch after a stakeout gone wrong, Bellona (Ancient Roman Goddess of War) takes the fight to his captors to free him, dressed in golden armor and wielding a spear Pandora and Firght Knight made for her. Nocturne and her brother worked together to imbue a spell into her back to give her wings she can use to fly or fight with. The fact it left a badass tattoo on her back, is just another way Jazz rebels against her parents. It also has Jason weak in the knees when he first sees it.

[christinered]

Wisdom of A Redhead: Thoughts on Carrie White.

I always thought this scene for Carrie, was for the most part justified.

It's a shame she didn't get Chris and Billy worse.

That car accident was not enough. They got off easy.

She should have played with their lives over and over.

Just my opinion. They deserved it.

~Red

Carrie (1976)

[ornii]

She Likes to Flirt (A Lot)

Natasha Romanoff X Male Reader (Short & Sweet) (Yup, Like Nat)

You obviously have a thing for Nat, and Almost everyone sees it.

Being the Spirit of Vengeance you held within yourself the devils bounty hunter, making you one of the most powerful begins on earth and a potential Level 10 Threat. Obviously you were scouted by S.H.I.E.L.D and joined their marry band of heroes, the Avengers. And after the little stunt in New York, the rest was history. Mission after mission you slowly grew closer to Natasha. Seasoned Assassin and Spy, she was the first you met due to her doing recon for Nick Fury. Naturally you two grew to be good friends, perhaps, even more.

It was nearing Night, after another mission at Sokovia you headed back to Stark Tower to celebrate, the massive parking garage opens up and you park your chopper there. Following behind was Natasha as usuals, somehow the Jeep didn’t get demolished in the fight. You chucked as you walked to the elevator. Natasha follows, looking at the bike.

“Aren’t gonna take your keys?” She asked, “Trust me, that bike isn’t going anywhere without me.” You reassured her, tapping the upper floors you both stood there as it began to rise. She dusts herself off as you try to put the flames off on your coat.

“Good mission overall.” She said, “Yup, Bruce and Tony are in their nerd lab brooding or something. With them together I’m a bit worried.”

“Don’t be. We can handle them, well I can.” She said, “What’s that supposed to mean?” You respond and she keeps her eyes forward, smiling. She ignores your question.

“You stink.” She said.

“I Tore through hydra guards like butter with a hot knife, I’m gonna stink. I’m pretty proud of that.” You said, “You do have a lot of. Good assets.” Nat said.

“Well damn that’s a first. A compliment.” You said.

“Now you know Steve doesn’t like that kind of language.” She said jokingly, you bite your lip and look forward trying not to laugh.

“He’s never gonna live that down.” You said

“Ever.” Natasha comments.

“You know you stink too right? Gonna need to shower.”

“Obviously, we have a party tonight, plus I have to put my face on, or whatever normal women say.” Natasha looks at her reflection.

“You’re Normal Nat.” You said to cheer her up. She turns to you, smiling. “I’m an assassin and you’re a bounty hunter for the devil, we’re not normal.”

“Well obviously but, looks wise, you don’t need to put on your face, looks good as is.” You point out, poking her forehead. Before she can open her mouth for some cheeky response, the Elevator opens and you step out.

“See you tonight Red.” You give her a send off before heading to the one room you somewhat own in the Tower.

The Party Finally arrives and you’re mingling with Thor and Rhody, who’s giving an, interesting story.

“Well, you know, the suit can take the weight, right? So I take the tank, fly it right up to the General's palace, drop it at his feet, I'm like, "Boom! You looking for this?" He explains, (Y/n) and Thor exchange glances and then back to Rhody. "Boom! Are you looking..." Why do I even talk to you guys? Everywhere else that story kills.

“That's the whole story?” Thor asks.

“Yeah, it's a War Machine story.”

“Well, it's very good then. It's impressive.”

“Yeah the Tank Part was really cool.” You said, Rhody sighs. “Okay fine, what did you do that was cool?”

“Uh, recently? By myself? A meteor was gonna hit Sweden so, I flew into the air and used my chain to pull the meteor back and hurl it into the atmosphere.” You casually explain, Rhody looks flabbergasted. “It was a Tuesday, I think.” You said, Rhody walks off as Thor Pats you on the shoulder. “That’s, very impressive.” And walks off, maybe you were going a little too high, you finished your beer and looked to the bar for more, what caught your eye was the redhead in a perfectly fitting white dress, you mosey over and casually slide down on a seat. Your eyes and Nat’s lock, and she smiles.

“Come here often, handsome?” She was the first to lay the foundation for the chat and you went right along with it.

“No, first time, but I saw this beautiful bombshell working the Bar and I had to see her.” You reply, Nat couldn’t hide her smile.

“Now what kind of man would leave a woman like you all by your lonesome, must have a bad taste in them.” You added on.

“He's not so bad. Well, he has a temper. Deep down he's all fluff. Fact is, he's not like anybody I've ever known. All my friends are fighters. And here comes this guy, trying to actually do the right thing. Even if he screws if up sometimes.”

“He…Sounds amazing.”

“He's also a huge dork.” She adds in, (Y/n) looks blindsided, Nat shrugs, “Chicks dig that. So what do you think should I fight this, or run with it?”

“Well, the guy really likes you.. I say give a chance, see where it goes? Is that, wrong to ask?” He asks, so hopeful. Nat smiles and sits up from the bar.

“Not at all, but, I think she likes you too, it may not look like it now... But never say never.” Natasha walks away, and Steve approaches (Y/n,) who sat there really considering her words.

“It's nice.” Steve said.

“What?” You reply confused.

“You and Romanoff.”

“No, me and her aren’t uh.. you know.” You mutter, Steven shakes your resolve.

“It's okay. Nobody's breaking any by-laws. It's just, she's not the most... open person in the world. But with you she seems very relaxed.”

“Yeah, Nat she... she likes to flirt. So do I.” You admit, now daydreaming of her slowly taking that dress off. But Steve ruins your daydreaming.

“I've seen her flirt, up close. This ain't that. Look, as maybe the world's leading authority on "waiting too long;" don't. You both deserve a win.” Steve gives you some damn good advice, and went off to his lonesome. You really thought about what he said.

“You know Steve, you got a point.. we do deserve a happy ending and— Wait, what the hell do you mean, "up close"?!

[darkshrimpemotions]

Rereading The Hunger Games trilogy due to the whole THG Renaissance going on over on Tiktok and I'm a quarter of the way through Mockingjay and my god, Katniss does not give herself enough credit!

And not in the usual YA "oh I'm so plain and average" protagonist way, either. For Katniss, it's that she's completely convinced she's a terrible, ruthless person who uses people and thinks of them like they're game pieces and doesn't feel for other people the way she should.

But she's lived her entire life in deprivation and constant danger, nearly starving to death before she was thirteen years old and then being forced to risk her life daily to be the primary provider for her family afterward. Not to mention the yearly horror of the reapings and the games, always knowing the children dying could be her. Or her sister.

And then her worst nightmare comes true, and she's thrust into a fight to the death where she's forced to playact being in love to survive.

And yet, throughout all this, the thing that most consistently drives Katniss's actions is compassion.

Volunteering for Prim obviously, but also the way she acts towards Rue. Partnering with her, sharing food with her, singing her to rest and burying her in flowers. Then there's the way she worries throughout the series over how her every decision will affect others: her family and friends, but also people she's never even met. Her entire friendship with Finnick in District 13.

Her bonding with the Morphlings over fingerpainting. Her guilt and sorrow over her failure to help the redheaded Avox girl, despite the fact that Katniss was herself a child in a dangerous position and could have died in the attempt. The way she later helps Bonnie and Twill, giving them her bread and showing them how to forage. Her going to bat for the other tributes when District 13 wanted them executed.

Her horror and disgust at the weapons Gale and Beatty were building, weapons that preyed on human terror and compassion to maximize casualties.

Even killing Cato, who she hated and feared, wasn't about vengeance or even survival in the end. It was an act of pure mercy.

Throughout the whole series, Katniss inner-monologues about how awful she is, often comparing herself unfavorably to Peeta and Prim, who she sees as deeply good and kind in a way she isn't. But if Katniss was truly as ruthless and unfeeling as she thinks she is, the Capitol would have actually had far less power to hurt her. It was her compassion that Snow attacked, every time. Her worry for and love of her family, her district, her friends, Peeta...even her fellow tributes. Even people she'd never met. It was her greatest strength and her biggest weakness.

[rhetthammersmithhorror]

[d-romanov]

Do you do like self harm reader? Maybe wandanat are together and have adopted or just taken in a 16 year old 🤷‍♀️ idk am in one of those moods but I get if it makes you uncomfortable or triggers you or something!

Love your writing btw!

even when we're goin' under.

[ 1.2k words ]

[ natasha x teen!reader ]

summary: it's a bad habit, but it helped at first and now you can't stop. natasha offers comfort and understanding.

notes: hi! ty so much for the prompt 🫶 sorry i took so long to write it. this fic leans more towards vent fic and i definitely won't write things like this often. i switched it up a bit cause that's just how i wrote it. so, sorry no wandanat this time

TW!!: semi-graphic descriptions and discussion of self harm, past abuse (hydra/the red room it's vague)

this fic is heavy!! please don't read if you're triggered by self harm. stay safe and take care of yourselves ♥️

It started with an itch.

A small biting at the back of your neck, the sides of your arms, the inner sides of your thighs.

It wasn't a real itch, that you knew, but you were compelled to scratch anyways.

It always happened after a long day. The stress and overload of your senses would hit at the end of the day, and you felt like ripping your skin off.

The biting never went away. No matter how hard you scratched, your dull nails never did enough. A nervous habit of biting your nails left them too short to do any real damage to your skin, even when the itch felt bone deep.

There were other times it would start up again. After a particularly clear nightmare, a flashback to a kill you had no conscious part in. The guilt sunk your heart to your feet and filled your veins with poison. Burning and itching and begging to be released, begging for relief.

You found your relief, of all places, while cooking. A misguided blade chopping vegetables had nicked your hand, and in the bite of pain and rush of blood your skin stopped burning. You hadn't thought about it too hard in the moment, but when the itch returned later you finally had a way to get it out.

--

It went on for a few weeks. Far more than you intended.

It was a temporary solution, a quick fix. A messy fix that layered you skin with more scars than had already been there, but they felt better.

It was easier to reconcile to new marks on your flesh, because these came from you. Not a beating or a fight or experiment of any kind.

No. These new, thin, horizontal lines along your shoulders were purely your creation.

It was stupid. A terrible habit, bordering addiction because you just couldn't stop. Every time, that same burning itch came back, practically with a vengeance. A burning, blistering want to be released, for the guilt to be acknowledged, for some self punishment?

You no longer understood why it happened, just that it did and cutting yourself dulled the feeling and cleared your head.

--

You tried to hide it, for a while, but you were caught out eventually.

You didn't know what had changed, what part of you has suddenly raised alarm in Natasha's eye, but she was somehow even more perceptive than she usually was.

You'd always been close with the redhead, since the day you entered the tower. She got you through the hardest parts of adjusting, the loneliness of a widow adjusting to a semi-normal life. She cared for you like her own child.

So really, she'd be the first to notice your withdrawing. The baggier shirts with longer sleeves, the subtle hunch, the flinch when something grazed your shoulders. Of course she knew something was wrong.

--

It comes to a head one day. You've locked yourself in the bathroom after a nasty night terror left you panicking for the better part of an hour. Hastily cleaning and covering the new cuts on your arm. The sting of antiseptic grounds you and the smell of it drowns out the smell of iron.

You reach for your discarded hoodie when you hear a knock at your bedroom door. Your heart rate picks up.

The only person who would be at your door this early in the morning would be Natasha. The only person in the tower who's so in tune with your feelings well-being that she has to know what you've been doing almost daily for nearly 3 weeks.

"y/n? Honey, I need to talk to you."

A few more tries and your bedroom door opens. You quickly throw on your hoodie but you can't bring yourself to even unlock the bathroom door. Natasha is just outside. You hold your breath.

"y/n?"

"Yeah?" You ignore the croak in your voice.

"Can you open the door?" She asks softly.

You don't want to, but you're so tired of hurting. You shakily unlock the door and open it, not meeting her eyes. Unconsciously, you tug your hoodie sleeves over your hands.

Natasha doesn't say another word. She barely moves, she just breathes softly and keeps her body relaxed. You feel like crying.

You blink and traitorous tears escape your eyes. Natasha brings her hands up slowly and pulls you in. The rough feel of fabric pulls against the fresh cuts on your shoulder and you flinch as she pulls you in.

"Oh, детка."

Your breath hitches and you fall into her arms. She squeezes you tight to her chest while your body is wracked by silent sobs.

"I-, I'm sorry," You can barely get the words out, but you need her to know. You need her to know you wanted to stop and you couldn't because even when you felt better you still felt awful and it never helped. "I tried to stop. I-I wanted to-"

"I know, малыш, I know." She sits the two of you on the bed behind her, stroking your hair and never once letting go.

You just sit for a while. Natasha's solid form and gentle words of encouragement help to calm you down. Enough to pull back, wipe the snot and tears from your face and prepare yourself for her inevitable questions.

"Can I see?"

Whatever you were expecting, it wasn't that. You hesitantly pull off your hoodie, and Natasha reaches out to help when the fabric catches uncomfortably on still-drying blood.

You feel exposed while Natasha moves to your bathroom. She comes back out with your first aid kit but you still refuse to meet her eyes.

You know what she sees. Angry lines of red, criss-crossing over old and new scars. In the back of your mind you hear a voice like Madame call you weak minded.

Broken.

With a tender hand, Natasha treats your self-inflicted wounds, cleans them softly and kisses each new bandage. She presses one final kiss, feather-light on your forehead. You let your tired body fall into her again.

"I know it feels good, in the moment," Her hands comb through your hair again, smoothing and braiding it mindlessly. "It doesn't really last though, does it?"

you shake your head, butting her chin lightly in the process.

"I can't ask you to stop, I know it doesn't work that way," You feel her take a deep breath and you copy the motion. "But will you tell me? The next time you feel the need?"

You shrug, because you truly don't know. "I'll try." It's as much a promise to her as it is to yourself.

It's really the best you can do, in the moment, and Natasha gladly accepts the answer.

Later, when you aren't so emotionally and physically drained, Natasha will sit you down again. She'll talk you into therapy, or at least to trying it out. She'll help you process your guilt, your grief, all with a steady hand holding your wrist. A promise not to let go.

But for now, Natasha pulls you under messy covers and holds you close, humming an old Russian lullaby as you settle against her.

As you drift off, you hear one more promise.

"I'm always here for you, y/n. I'm not going anywhere."

[intheticklecloset]

Hello! how are you?? I hope you're doing well! can you please do a ler chuuya with lee dazai? just if you're okay with this of course! I think Dazai annoys chuuya way too much and Chuuya decides to tickle him to death until Dazai is begging for mercy... yeah that's the idea! thank youuu <33

Yessss this prompt!! I love Soukoku! Thank you for the request, anon! 🥰

~~~

“The hell are you doing?!”

The words spurred Dazai into frantic action. He struggled for just another moment with his partner’s keys, then gave up and stole all of them – including keychains – and bolted down the hall.

Chuuya was right behind him.

“Get back here! I know you were trying to steal my pug keychain!”

Dazai yelped as he tripped over the rug in their shared bedroom, toppling onto the bed in an ungraceful heap. He whirled around, the hand holding the keys stubbornly behind him. “Why would I steal your stupid dog keychain? You know how I feel about dogs.”

The redhead glared at him, gripping his free arm and uselessly trying to wrangle the brunette around to take his keys back. “Dazai!”

“Whahahat?” Dazai giggled, easily keeping the keys from his partner’s grip.

“Give it back!” Chuuya demanded, growing more frustrated the more he realized there was no winning this fight. “And quit laughing already!”

At that Dazai only laughed harder, which spurred the mafioso into grabbing onto his hips and digging in with a vengeance.

The detective squawked and bucked his hips, his laughter instantly shifting from amused to ticklish. He tried to pry the redhead away with his free hand, still keeping the hand clutching the keys firmly behind him. “Ehehehehehehe! Chihihihihibi!”

“At least call me by my name when I’ve got you like this, stupid Dazai,” Chuuya grumbled, swinging a leg over to half-pin his partner to the mattress. “You want to laugh? Fine. I’ll give you something to laugh about.”

“I wahahahahahasn’t tahahahaking your keychahahahain!” Dazai insisted through helpless cackles, squirming uselessly beneath the redhead’s touch.

“No? Then what were you doing?”

“I wahahahahahas just gohohohoing to tahahahahahake your P-Port Mahahahahahafia keys!”

Chuuya blinked. “What for? You planning a break-in?”

Dazai shook his head, then squealed when his partner found the hypersensitive spots on his hips and kneaded into them meticulously. “So yohohohohohou’d gehehehehet to wohohohohork and nohohohohot be ahahahahahable to get in!”

Chuuya let out a longsuffering sigh, bringing his tickling to a stop. Dazai caught his breath, blinking up at him in confusion. Before he could ask why he’d stopped, however, the redhead plunged his hands into the detective’s upper ribs.

“GAH!!” Dazai yelled, frantically waving his free arm around while trying to resist the urge to bring his other arm out protectively. “NOHOHOHOHOHO, CHUHUHUHUHUHUUYA!!”

“You’re going to give my keys back,” Chuuya said in a low, dangerous voice that Dazai only ever heard when he knew the redhead was being totally serious, “or I’m going to tickle you until you’re crying my name and begging me for even a moment of mercy.”

Dazai made a distressed sound in the back of his throat, but still refused to give the keys back, despite there being no point. Chuuya knew his plan now; even if he got the key off the stupid ring, his partner knew what was up. It was over.

But…

“Don’t want to give it up? Fine.” Chuuya activated his gravity manipulation to forcibly push Dazai’s arms above his head – both of them. “Guess you really want me to make you scream.”

Then he plunged both hands into Dazai’s unprotected armpits.

The detective was begging for mercy in no time at all.

[katsigian]

So the OC rewrites are going well. Necromancy is involved now. And some very questionable decisions made by said OCs that would get anyone else put in jail but instead just makes them more 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂

---+ Valen surprises everyone by just how far he'll go and how much pain he'll endure for love. Not even death can stop him (wink wink). Is it selfish of him? Kinda! He's just a good, ruthless, devoted guard dog but even dogs need to eat. And his meal of choice has to be alive, doesn't it?

---+ Vesper gains his cyberarm/arm prosthetic in a new and exciting way but might have forgotten the whole thing except for who his "attacker" was. Vengeance is best served wrongfully, I guess. Whether or not he goes too far depends on how similar he is to his dad and brother (spoiler: very similar)

---+ Reid may not have been Reid this entire time SIKE. Reid may actually be his middle name that he uses out in the world. But his first, and genuine, name may begin with K and end with allias. We're going elaborate with OC names now. If they don't sound like they belong in some sort of fantastical fantasy gacha game or mmo, then I don't want them

---+ I have so much fleshing out to do yet 😭 with no context or elaboration, these five OCs need richer backstories: Ilya, Caelus, Leto, Nox, Ashwyn. OK fine a little bit of elaboration - Caelus is a feisty little redhead and thinks that a bit of exhibitionism is hot. Teehee

[writerofadream]

Fortune favors the Bold ⛓

TDI!Duncan x Juvie Bestfriend! Reader ⛓

Chapter Thirteen: Princess and the Frog

You were bored, out of your mind. So bored that you had started to juggle which wasn’t something you had done since you were maybe three.

Your mothers had sent Duncan and you to an acrobat camp because your fathers wanted you to get stronger in your upper body.

The tiny rubber spheres flew into your hands and back up again with practiced ease. You were so caught up in watching them fly you didn’t notice the chocolate covered underwear that just flew in front of you. But then you did. 

Your eyes quickly found the redhead responsible. “Harold, what the hell.” You let the balls fall into your hands and you had half the mind to throw them at the boy. Despite his protests you walked away now annoyed.

But before you could get very far you heard Chef Hatchet on the speakers calling you to the dock of shame.

The way he was talking didn’t have you excited. 

As you lightly jogged over to the dock you saw your green-haired devil who was walking on his hands beside Geoff. “Hey cutie.” You resumed juggling. “Hey darling.” Duncan said as his hands felt the difference from the grass to the hard boards. 

“Just kiss already, geeze.” Geoff rolled his eyes as you all lined up. 

“You call this proper formation!” Chef Hatchet was losing his absolute mind. His stick whapped everybody no matter what they were doing. T

he stick hit Duncan’s arms making them fall down, you noticed his body tense. Memories of his father were surely coursing through him. “No fun?” Chef yelled, sounding confused on why the balls were in your hands and he quickly threw them in the water, his stick hit your thigh making you stand on both legs at attention. 

You were going to start yelling.

“Shut up.” Duncan hissed beside you, he was not going to let you lose your cool on Chef, not today. You both had gone to a million military schools. You’ve had worse teachers than this. One lady actually had fourteen-year-old Duncan and you ran fifty laps while carrying twenty pound bags.

Do you want to know why?

Because you asked when lunch was.

“Today’s challenge will not be an easy one. In fact I do not expect everyone to come out alive.” Chef yelled into the megaphone making the sound ring in your ears.

When faced with trauma people deal with it in a multitude of ways. Some revert into a submissive state, some fight back with a vengeance, some deal with it with laughter, some turn themselves off.

Duncan and you were the last too. 

Your mind was quiet and your face went blank and you had a rigid posture.

Three years ago

“You are a grown adult so act like it. My training will make you stronger than you ever were before, youngling.” The man got close to your face and spit flying across your cheeks, you nodded.

“We are fourteen? The only thing making us stronger is milk… sir.” Duncan winked and the man hit him across the face without a second thought.

Duncan on the other hand was… pissed.

“My orders are to make sure every baby here drops out of my boot camp. Except one.” He yelled through the megaphone and your eye twitched. “The last one standing wins immunity for their team.” He whipped Owen.

Then he began down his set of rules. “Yes, Master Chief.” God, that sound was too familiar, you cringed at your words. 

The first challenge was to hold a boat over your heads for as long as physically possible. But Chris wanted you to do another monologue bit in the outhouse.

—

“I am an obedient soldier. No matter if I want to or not.” You muttered staring at the camera, you held your hands as if trying to wring the sweat out of them, your leg shaking anxiously. You were trained at a very early age. Your wants, and needs? Didn’t matter. “

—

Master Chief explained the rules of the challenge and Gwen watched as Duncan directed you towards the canoe, his hands were on your hips as if you were blind and couldn’t see. She noticed that there was something going on in your mind. Some unseen battle.

You lifted the canoe above your head and had to laugh when Owen and Geoff thought this would be easy. 

—

“Come on you sissies you’ve only been at it for three hours.” Chef yelled at you and you noticed how weak the other team was becoming. Duncan had an abusive father, and you’ve had to take care of a man who was supposed to take care of you since you were five. You were beyond used to pain.

Geoff caught Harold's underwear.

Harold took his hands off the boat. 

What a stupid, stupid, man.

“Is there a problem here?” Chef’s head bent down to look at you spit flew on your face and you almost lost it right there. This was too familiar.

—

The moon was bright above you.

Duncan had his chin tucked into your collarbone. He was snoring softly. He knew you wouldn’t fall, you never did. Lindsay on the other hand, lost the challenge for her team as she rang the bell. “Wake up, tiger.” You whispered as your team dropped the canoe gratefully. “I’m up, I’m up baby.” Duncan’s voice was filled with a rasp that made your heart skip a beat.

Chef and Chris had you all go to the cafeteria and you stared at the trash cans in front of you. “You remember when my dad didn’t give me money to buy food that month after my mom died, so I had to eat from the trash.” You chuckled into your palm smiling at the memory. “Fucking racoon.” Duncan laughed much to Courtney’s horror.

“You’ve got ten minutes to eat before night training.” Chef announced. 

The entire camp groaned at the mention of night training. Duncan shook his head and you wanted to start shaking with laughter. Gwen asked a VERY obvious question. “Where’s the food?” 

“Right here. At war you take what you can get!” Chef smiled, taking a lid off the trash. The rancid smell filled the room.

It was probably good that you were getting used to not eating. 

You went with Duncan as he pranked Harold for throwing the underwear at you. He gave him kitchen grease. Which was probably deadly but it’s okay. You rolled your eyes as Harold spit out the drink. “This is why you don’t have a girlfriend, Tarun.” You put a hand on your hip.

“Okay look, I know you like me sweetheart. He knows you like me, everybody knows it.” Duncan leaned close, wrapping his arm around your waist causing you to smirk, booping him on the nose.

“So here’s a tip. You want to kiss me? I might let you.” He winked and you rolled your eyes blowing him a kiss. “In your dreams, baby. But don’t let me stop you from dreaming.” 

Geoff gave Duncan a look as you went back to talk to Bridgette who had asked you to help her do something with the trash.

“Oh you're in love aren’t you man?” Geoff noticed the look the green-haired boy gave you. “None of your business, blondie.” Duncan ran a hand through his hair.

—

You were having dance classes at two in the morning.

By a man in military clothing.

Still not the strangest thing you’ve done to be honest.

You looked to your side but Duncan had disappeared, he reappeared next to the boom-box and turned it off. Chef screamed at him. “Tarun what are you doing?” You yelled at him.

“If someone drops out, we’re done for the day.” Duncan said matter of factly. “You're done when I say you're done.” Chef yelled, ordering him to do 20 pushups. 

That’s strange.

Duncan does one hundred pushups every morning. 

(Juvie habits)

“Anyone else have something they want to say?” Chef challenged the campers surrounding him. Gwen went to the restroom. Suddenly before you could stop yourself you raised your hand. Chef raised an eyebrow as did Duncan. You didn’t ever challenge authority.

“Can I do twenty as well?” Your face broke into a small smile and Duncan almost leapt with joy. 

Chef ordered you to do twenty and you bent down next to the boy. “Oh my days, did I just see a certain girl disobey her superiors? When did you learn how to do that?” Duncan smiled as he did his twenty in sync with you.

The music continued.

“I do a lot of things for people I have crushes on. Thought you knew that, Tarun.” You winked and he had to stop his twenty because did you just say what he thinks you just said?

—-

Chef put you in the cafeteria again and he ordered you to write a three-hundred-word essay on why ‘he was the best’. You’ve had a lot of vain people be in charge of you. But that’s a whole other level.

It was three a.m, by the time everyone was done. 

Honestly your essay wasn’t even about Chef Hatchet.

It was about the idiot beside you.

Just instead of writing Duncan you put ‘Master Chief. It worked, it worked REALLY well actually. “She’s my new favorite.” Chef declared. “Teacher's pet.” Duncan yawned and you smiled innocently.

Duncan of course had to challenge the teacher.

God he never grew up.

You of course had to save him. “No, he’s going to go right to bed.” You dragged the boy away from the sergeant. “If you get eliminated I am going to murder you.” You jabbed a finger in his chest. “Didn’t know you cared, doll.” Duncan yawned again, he was amazed you were still up.

“I don’t. But if we lose this challenge because you are a rebellious idiot I will eat all of your hair gel.” You said. Duncan smirked, you talked a LOT of nonsense when you were tired. “Just don’t get yourself killed because I will make sure your mother beats you if you do.” You kissed his cheek and went to splash some water on your face.

“I love her.” Duncan muttered.

“No, really, bro?” Geoff rolled his eyes.

—

The next challenge was to complete a death-defying course in one minute. There was something familiar about this course which you didn’t remember until you were jumping from one head to another as you raced up the wall.

You were twelve the first time you did this course

Five years ago

“It’s unfair, really.” Duncan laughed as he watched you fly through the obstacle course which was made for grown adult men. “How so?” The counselor looked at him mildly confused, this was supposed to be a punishment drill.

“Acrobatics have always been her favorite thing.”

Duncan did extremely well on the course, he did it slowly on purpose, just so he could grate at Chef Hatchet’s nerves, which earned him one night of solitary confinement. 

He wasn’t even scared of the punishment. He was scared of what his stupid mind was going to conjure up for him. 

—

At dinner, breakfast, lunch, you don’t know anymore you're dead tired. You stirred the mush that was your food before declaring. “I’m going to go check on him. Idiots should not be alone for that long.” You stood up and Geoff smiled at you.

“Does little ole Y/N, have a crush?” he asked. “Clearly, now shush or I’ll gouge out your eyes. Ciao!” You winked when the boy paled.

You used your phone's flashlight to find the door to the boathouse.

“Oi, tiger, you in here?” You called out into the darkness before your eyes adjusted, you saw Duncan smiling at you though it was obvious he was shaking. “Heya princess, come to claim your kiss?” He winked.

“Actually yes, maybe you’ll turn into a prince. I brought food.” You handed him the bowl as you sat down.

“I prefer bait.”

You giggle rolling your eyes. “I hate how I love your laugh.” He said in what you believed was mock amazement. It indeed was not. “I don’t get you, Duncan. How do you egg adults on like that?” You had to laugh. That was your number one fear. Adults.

“You're the one that doesn’t make sense. You're so free when it comes to kids our age. But the second it's an adult you clam up, and turn into a soldier, it’s crazy.” Duncan laughed in bewilderment. “I think it’s because I’m so used to taking care of them.” you shrugged your shoulders.

“You wanna ditch the shack for some pb&j’s?” Duncan asked.

“This isn’t you just trying to get me to eat, is it?” You leveled a fish as if you would smack him with it. “No? I’m hungry too, it’s not always about you.” he said quite dramatically. (He was just trying to get you to eat)

You snuck into the counseling tent and stole a bunch of food.

Also alcohol.

Lots.

—

You were sharing the food with everyone. Duncan and Geoff were busy pranking Harold so he didn’t notice how many drinks you had. (Five shots of vodka to be precise) You were grabbing another one and before Bridgette could protest you chugged that one too.

“That was a mistake.” 

You quickly threw the contents of your stomach over the railing and Duncan walked out feeling a mild sense of worry.

“So the perfect soldier can be a kid sometimes too?” He smiled holding your hair back. You smiled clearly, still a bit drunk as you sat back up.

He gave you a bunch of peppermints. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been free like that, tiger.” You giggled. “I just want more.” You sighed wistfully.

“You could always give me that kiss, princess.” He cupped your chin smiling. “Are we sure that you're my type?” You questioned ruffling his hair and he leaned into your hand.

“Enjoy a funless life then.” He smiled dramatically, turning his back on you. “Enjoy prison, I’m sure the army would love to finally have me.” You smirked.

--

|Trending on X right now|

#whatishappening

#isthisheaven

#PRINCESSANDTHEFROGOMFG

#imcryingtheyaresoperfect

#madeforeachother?

--

“Oh you’d never leave me. Who’d make you laugh-” He whined his eyes shut and just like that you wrapped your arms around his neck and gave him a kiss, a long one.

“Lucky for you we’ll never find out, baby.” You kissed him one more time and skipped away.

“LET’S GO MAN!” Geoff, Duncan, and DJ were losing their minds.

You smiled. Unbeknownst to you, Harold had been watching you, and he wanted revenge on Duncan… but from the side..? You look like an exact replica of Courtney.

The next challenge was a bore. All you had to do was hang upside down. Duncan got out first, weirdly enough. This was something you had practice with. You loved hanging upside down. It felt strangely amazing.

That was for the first thirty minutes. But after having a lot of alcohol. You have to come down.

So you guys lost.

At the campfire that night the strangest thing happened…

Courtney was voted out!

Duncan and you were confused.

Geoff and Bridgette were also confused.

Harold smiled.

[andreafmn]

REQUITE MASTERLIST

Status: Coming Soon

Speak | Book 1

Mood Board

Summary: When everything seems to fall into place in Forks, Washington, a string of mysterious deaths call the attention of both vampires and werewolves in town. As the redheaded vampire returns with her mind set on revenge, (Y/N) and Bella Swan find themselves in the center of danger once again. With secrets still lingering between them about their past best friend, they will find themselves stuck in a whirlwind of love, betrayal, and the hardest choices they'll have to make. But one thing is certain: no one will go a day without a taste for vengeance. 

All my stories on Tumblr are written as reader inserts. For original characters, you can read the same stories in AO3 or Wattpad under the same username. For any requests, leave me a message in my inbox or by DM. For tagging, make sure your account allows your username to be tagged, or else you’ll still miss out.

[shynmighty]

New Agent Infodump incoming!

This is Aeija Silverblade, another redhead by Shynmighty, no big surprise there. 😂

I'm still sorting out where she officially falls on my legacy's family tree, but so far...I think she might be an illegitimate daughter of Rhyxus (My m!SW who I really need to play more/get into because he's a delightful bastard) which would make her the half-sister of Aeiryss, Aecenith, and Vhespasian. But I think she exists on a timeline all her own that doesn't include the others. Because I have plans for her...

For this infodump, I'll be focusing on her background, personality, and her progression through the story thus far...

Aeija was born on an Imperial world (I'm still deciding whether to make it somewhere official, like Ziost or DK, or somewhere I just make up) and is fully indoctrinated into the Imperial way of life. Her mother is Imperial, and all she knows of her father is that he is a Sith. She grew up as a commoner, which gave her a drive to surpass expectations. She enlisted with the military at the first opportunity, and her dedication and skill got her noticed by Imperial Intelligence.

Despite the coldness and discipline in her upbringing, Aeija was always a bit of a softie. She spared lives when she could, helped the unfortunate, and tried never to sacrifice innocents, even to further Imperial aims. Upon her first debriefing as an agent, Keeper pointed out that she would never survive in the business if she didn't grow a thicker skin...and he was mostly right.

Her encounters with Jadus and Zhorrid shook her belief system that the Sith were infallible. The Imperial doctrine that she grew up believing in so staunchly was flawed. Rather than become disillusioned, however, Aeija became convinced that what the Empire needed most was reform, and for Imperials to have an equal seat at the table. This was coupled with a distrust of Sith in general.

Things...changed...when Aeija was sent undercover with the SIS. The first use of the control code set off something very dark, deep inside her. (I came up with the term "Rampaeija" for her subsequent rampage, which made me chuckle) Her mission to Taris was bloody, and she gleefully took out her vengeance on the Republic when the opportunity arose. In the end, although her knee-jerk reaction was to help Chance, her fury that he used her code word outweighed her usual mercy and she left him to perish. The voice inside her urging her to help people and show mercy dimmed to little more than a whisper.

The demise of Ardun Kothe and the rest of his team was swift and ruthless. Although she discovered that the Sith were responsible for her programming, her anger remained focused on the Republic. Her reasoning being that although the Sith programmed her, it was the SIS who USED the programming. Even so, she became more convinced of the need for the Empire to reform. Until it did, she was not sure she could serve with the same patriotism as she possessed at the start of her career. Her mistrust of the Sith and her hatred of the Republic were both left to fester.

Now Aeija has arrived on Belsavis. Will the Rampaeija continue? Or will she rediscover her inner light?

...

(TLDR, I played this girl as full light side, with very few exceptions. Then "keyword onomatophobia" happened.)

(Also as a final note, I have more info I can potentially dump for Aeija regarding where I see her story going, particularly with her future LI...) (Hint: It's not Vector! heehee) (So hopefully you all aren't bored yet!) 😁

[dying-birds]

Dying birds (Reverse robins Au)

(storyline part one)

     Damian Wayne's childhood was unconventional, to say the least, raised by assassins only to be dropped off at his father's doorstep for his own protection. Consumed not only by wrath but the overwhelming pressure to please his grandfather, Damian was headed down a dark path of vengeance and blood. A path his father Bruce Wayne, was all too familiar with his father. Bruce took him on as a sidekick hoping to instill the values of justice and human life. Bruce becomes a more lighthearted Batman for Damian's sake.

     After getting settled into his new role Damian was introduced to many other heroes and sidekicks, one of them being a redhead speedster. Wally West aka Kid Flash, may be the most annoying person Damian has ever met and yet he somehow he was also Damian's best friend.

     As Damian grew older he found himself constantly butting heads with his father leading him to move out. A life away from Bruce and the constant fight had done him good Damina even considered doing away with the capes and mask sadly Gotham had other plans for him. Damian had been walking home from the store when he witnessed what appeared to be a mugging. He stepped in and things went south real quickly as he was shot by an unknown marksman. Bruce found his son bleeding out in the streets, a war on Gotham had begun. Damian woke up in a Gotham hospital unable to move his legs. Things were revealed about the mugging turning him bitter toward Bruce. Damian left Gotham altogether and Bruce became a harsher Batman

     Tim Drake a mistreated child with a knack for photography, the next sidekick. Bruce would find this kid standing in the middle of his cave. Batman was on the edge of going rogue, Tim could let that happen. He pushed into taking the mantel out of necessity

     The start of Tim's vigilante career was spent trying to get Bruce and Damian to talk to each other. For all his efforts he was treated horribly, Bruce's training was brutal and Damian treated Him harshly. For a while, Damian blamed Tim for taking his place but the truth was Damian thinks of himself as broken and sees what he could have been in Tim. Tim eventually does break through to Damian and the older boy comes back to Gotham taking up an oracle-type role.

     Damian starts to see Tim as a little brother and enjoys having him around. Not long after Tim meets a ninja girl named Stephine Brown. Through a series of events convinces her to join the bats. Taking her under his wing Tim trains her to take his place so he can leave for a secret project called Titan. Only Steph and Damian know about this project.

     One day on patrol Tim tries to help the wrong person causing him to get shot in the stomach. Tim gets away but he's bleeding heavily. Damian's on the comms trying to help him but everyone is to far away. Tim stumbles through the street before sliding down against a pole. In his last minutes, he talks to Damian and Bruce about how grateful he was to be a bat and tells Stephine how much he appreciated her friendship and how proud he was of her. Damian is on the comms the entire time helpless as his brother dies, his last words I love you guys.