#thanks writing team

[luxaofhesperides]

Danny accidentally appearing out of Duke's shadow. And doing it purposely every time after that. ; requested by @kyrianclawraith! (deviated from your original prompt a bit, sorry! the ghostlights brainworms got away from me)

Traveling through shadows has become second nature for Duke after using them so extensively over the years. He even uses them as a civilian, hopping between shadows when he’s running late to class so he doesn’t have to stress out over traffic. 

Not even Batman’s scoldings can stop him from making it on time to his classes. Risks need to be taken for the sake of his education!

The shadows are comforting. They hide him from sight, get him to where he needs to go, and gives him the alone time he needs when he’s been around people for too long and desperately needs some quiet to recharge. Duke would say that he’s well versed in the shadows at this point, no longer stumbling out into the light.

Even with all his practice and confidence, he still can’t prepare himself for tripping over someone in the shadows while he’s trying to escape some of The Riddler’s goons. 

They both go tumbling out of the shadows, landing in a corner hidden by storage shelves. The poor tripping hazard of a person is under him, groaning lightly as he reaches up to press a hand to the back of his head, where he hit the concrete floor. 

“Oh, shit,” Duke whispers, “I’m so sorry. What are you doing here? How are you here?”

“I was hiding,” the guy hisses back at him. “I wanted to get out of the rain and dozed off and when I woke up, guns were being shot! I was up in the rafters, so excuse me for thinking no one would find me up there!”

Another gunshot rings out, alarmingly close to where they are.

Duke curses under his breath, then picks up the guy and hauls him over his shoulder. “Time to go!” And then he’s disappearing into the shadows again, following the line of them outside the warehouse and down the street. 

As soon as they’re safely away from the goons, Duke steps out of the shadows and carefully sets the civilian back onto his feet.

“So sorry about that,” he says, “But I need to get back and deal with them. Stay safe!”

He’s gone before the civilian can say anything else, and though it’s embarrassing that he tripped over someone while shadow hopping, at least it ended relatively well. It’s not like it’ll happen again.

Duke, sweet, naive Duke, doesn’t think much of the civilian again. He’s a busy guy with a busy life! Lots of things to do! Lots of embarrassing moments to keep secret from the other Bats! No one has mentioned it at all, so he thinks he’s safe from being teased about it.

That is, up until he’s training with Dick and a hand pops up out of his shadow.

“Um,” Dick says, backflipping away from Duke’s punch. He lowers his escrima sticks and squints at the space behind Duke. “Are you… trying something new with your powers?”

“...No? I’m not using my powers right now.”

Dick looks more and more alarmed. He won’t look away from the space behind Duke, and it’s making him nervous. He doesn't want to look, but he knows he has to. 

Steeling himself, Duke takes a deep breath, then turns slightly to see what’s behind him.

Nothing. 

His gaze goes down, and he sees a pale hand sticking out of his shadow, moving back and forth. It then comes out some more, up to the elbow, and the hand pats the ground Duke’s shadow lays on, a stiff mat perfect for sparring.

Behind him, Dick turns on his escrima sticks, the electricity crackling through the air.

The hand disappears for a moment. 

Then two hands appear and grab the ground, hauling up a body from Duke’s shadow.

Duke is very well versed in shadows. He travels through them almost daily. He thinks he would know if there was some strange netherworld hidden in the shadows where other beings could pop out of shadows like portals. This is alarming, to say the least.

“Don’t move, Duke,” Dick warns, creeping closer, ready to attack.

A head pops out of his shadow. Whatever it is glows and their white hair moves softly as if underwater. They’re facing away from him, so he can’t see their face, but he can see the black, skin-tight suit their wearing as they float up from his shadow, no longer needing their hands to pull themself out. 

“Huh,” they say, looking up at the ceiling.

Dick grabs Duke’s arm and pulls him back, shielding him with his body. “Who are you?” he demands, voice cold. 

The creature/person startles and whips around to stare at them with wide green eyes. His gaze darts down to the electrified escrima sticks, then back up again, visibly nervous.

“Um, hi! Sorry, I didn’t know anyone would be here. Wherever this is.”

“How did you get here?”

“I was practicing a new portalling method. I found a ghost to teach me how to move through shadows, since my usual portals are very bright and noticeable. Not great when you’re trying to be stealthy! I did not mean to end up here.”

Duke stares at him. “You came out of my shadow.”

“Sorry,” the guy repeats. Then he squints at Duke. “Hey, didn’t you save me the other day? From the warehouse?”

It’s been a while since Duke’s saved anyone from a warehouse. Criminals and goons have moved on to condemned apartment complexes and the back rooms of bars. The only person he’s saved is the tripping hazard…

“Man, what is up with you and getting caught in my shadows?”

“This is your fault!” the guy insists. “I associate shadows too strongly with you! That’s why I’m here! Probably. I don’t actually know how this works.”

“You don’t know how it works but you did it anyways.”

“It sounds bad when you say it like that.” The guy floats down to the ground and offers Duke a hand. “I’m Phantom, by the way! Figured I should introduce myself because this will happen again.”

Duke considers introducing himself as the Signal, but Danny is looking directly at his bare face, so it’s lost cause. Talk about an unexpected security breach. “Duke. You looked a little different when we first met.”

“Yeah, that was my human form. This is my ghost form.” A watch on his wrist, some clunky looking thing that looks like it came from the early 2000s, beeps and Phantom frowns at it. “Shoot, I need to go. I’ll see you later!” And he dives right back into Duke’s shadow, disappearing.

Duke blinks at the empty space where Phantom used to be, still reeling from the shock of it. He’s so busy processing the last few minutes that he doesn’t hear the escrima sticks turn off until Dick is dropping a heavy arm around his shoulders, holding him in place. There’s a smile on his face, but it’s not happy; it’s a warning that he’s at his limit and is barely hanging on to niceties.

“So,” he says as Duke cringes, “Looks like we need to have a talk about the things you’ve been hiding from us, Duke.”

He can’t do anything but resign himself to his fate.

After that conversation, he’s instructed to let them know when Phantom pops up. Which is fine until he realizes that Phantom really did mean it when he said that it’ll happen again. 

Phantom pops up constantly. Most of the time, Duke is lucky enough to be at home, or in the Manor, or in the Batcave away from the public where no one will freak out about a glowing boy popping out of his shadow. Sometimes, he’s in the middle of the street as a civilian and has to sprint away, ducking into the first empty alley he can find in order to climb up onto the rooftop where no one will see him.

It’s stressful and confusing and he wishes he could be more upset about it, but Phantom is fun. He’s funny and charming and tells the craziest stories about ghost fights that Duke can’t help but hang onto every word.

He dutifully updates his Phantom Log, noting each time he’s portaled through Duke’s shadow, any information he’s revealed, and an injury count after Duke noticed a concerning pattern of Phantom often showing up after he’s been in a fight.

Duke begins to get a feel for when Phantom is about to show up. A shiver runs down his spine and his awareness of the shadows around him grows. Sometimes, he could swear he could feel something tear apart in his shadow. He feels it then, a tear that stitches itself up almost instantly, a ripple in the shadow, before that familiar hand pops up again and Duke grabs hold of it to haul Phantom out into his bedroom. 

He is, once again injured. There’s a large gash running down the length of his other arm, bleeding a toxic, glowing green. 

“Dude,” Duke says, unable to keep the judgment out of his voice.

“You should see the other guy,” Phantom snorts. “I slammed him through five streets, then ripped his limbs off.

“Dude…”

“Just to be clear, they weren’t his real limbs. He has a robot suit he uses like a body because he’s like a tiny little bean.”

“Yeah, I don’t know how to take that. Anyways, have you still not figured out how to open portals that aren’t connected to my shadow?”

Phantom shrugs. “Nope. And I’m not really trying to figure it out. I like hanging out with you. Plus, it’s nice to see a friendly face after a fight.”

“Can’t you like, go home and have your family take care of you first.”

“Uh, better not,” Phantom laughs nervously. “They’d probably kill me for real if they saw me like this.”

Duke quietly notes to himself to add that statement to the Alarming Things Phantom Says list. 

“Does it… bother you? Me always coming to you?” There’s a smallness to his voice, a fragility that makes Duke want to beat himself up for making Phantom feel like that.

“No! No, I just wanted to make sure I wasn’t keeping you from anyone else.”

Phantom brightens. “Oh! Well, no need to worry about that. No one’s worried, back home. They know I disappear sometimes.”

…Another concerning thing. Duke is considering bribing Phantom into staying in Gotham forever, living in his shadow, just so he can take care of him. Just to be sure Phantom’s safe. “Is there anything I can do for you?” he asks, eyes flickering down to Phantom’s bleeding wound.

Phantom futilely tries to hide the wound with a hand. The green blood leaks out from between his fingers, and he applies more pressure to the wound with a faint wince. “Nope! All good here. I’ll heal in no time, honest.”

“Then, do you want to just hang out? I really don’t know why you’d chose to keep coming to me.”

“You’re good company, dude. Very chill. Very fun. And you’re a hero! That’s so cool. Why wouldn’t I keep coming back?”

Duke shrugs, not sure how to put his insecurities into words. He’s already starting to get the Bat-specific inability to communicate emotions, which is definitely a problem. He’ll need to spend time with other people to be normal again. 

As if sensing that Duke’s mood is falling, Phantom launches into another tale, complaining about people who bother him, teachers who are terrible at teaching, having snark-fights with the embodiment of Time itself, and so on. He always has the craziest stories, and he tells them so casually that Duke has to second guess himself, wondering if he’s overreacting when he’s shocked by what Phantom tells him. 

He starts telling his own stories as well, mostly fun civilian interactions he’s had since they last spoke, villain fights, the ever changing theories on the ‘Who is Batman Sleeping With Now?’ shared document all the other Bats have. By the time an hour passes, Phantom’s arm is fully healed and he’s flying in lazy circles above Duke.

His watch beeps again in the middle of him recounting the insane drama happening at his school. Phantom sighs and sinks back to the floor, hovering just above Duke’s shadow.

“Thanks for letting me stay,” he says, voice warm.

Duke shrugs. “You’re good company. I like when you visit.”

A slow, soft smile spreads across Phantom’s cheeks, making him glow even brighter. “Sweet talker,” he accuses fondly, then flies in for a quick, tight hug. He pulls back before Duke can reciprocate, and salutes him with a cheeky, “See you soon!” and is gone, flying into Duke’s shadow before he can respond.

Shaking his head fondly, Duke falls back against his bed.

Despite how unconventional their friendship is, he is glad Phantom keeps coming back. He hopes he’ll get to see Phantom’s human form again.

…And get more used to the horror movie scene that is Phantom clawing his way out of his shadow. No matter how many times he sees it, the sight still makes him jump.

Not that he’s ever going to admit that.

If Phantom thinks he’s cool, he’s going to do whatever he can to keep that impression from changing. It’s only reasonable, really.

(“Shut up, Dick,” he says later when he recounts this encounter with Phantom. Dick just keeps laughing, endlessly amused that Duke got ‘jumpscared into a crush’ as he phrased it. That’s definitely not what happened.

Next time, he’s definitely convincing Phantom to scare Dick with him. 

Revenge will be his.) . . .

[send me ghostlights prompts! one day left before they close on 11/17]

#ghostlights #dc x dp #dp x dc #dcxdp #dpxdc #dc x dp fic #dp x dc fanfic #prompt fill #my writing #100% after danny gets a hang of traveling thru shadow portals more hes going to help duke in fights #meaning duke is going to throw a ball of shadows like a pokeball and dannys going to pop out of it to deliver a spectacular flying tackle #theyre the dream team (trouble makers) :) #thanks for the prompt!!

[andi-o-geyser]

everyone say thank you subtitle team

#THANK YOU SUBTITLE TEAM #i want to give the person who writes these subtitles a kiss on the mouth #the editors of these episodes oh my GOD they are doing the lord's work with all the visual effects and sounds and subs i just can't #d20 editors>>>>> #dimension 20 #d20 #dimension 20 mentopolis #mentopolis spoilers #mentopolis #d20 mentopolis #brennan lee mulligan #mike trapp #hunch curio #stacy fakename #andis thought geyser

[streco3y]

they're in my head 24/7 I'm so tired...i need more

#tf2 #team fortress 2 #tf2 scout #tf2 demoman #tf2 sniper #fem fortress #thanks to fanfiction writers cus i keep feeding my sniperscout brain with all this beautiful writings

[pusangkambing]

Let her run on all fours

#based on when jaiden said she wants her cubito to look more werewold as purgatory goes on #I COULDNT FIT HER FREAK BIRDTAIL but its supposed to be under that flowing mess of tattered garment behind her that shes using as a belt #i could explain design choices but i dont want to write it here just ask me if u have questions 👍 #ALSO CONSIDER REBLOGGING AND NOT JUST LIKING THANK YOU #paimon!makes art! #qsmp #red team #bolas rojas #jaiden animations #eyestrain #and also blood

[mister-supernova]

In conclusion of watching Bottoms three times, I would like to be as hot as Hazel Callahan while also being with Hazel Callahan romantically please and thank you

#she’s so hot and for what #thank you writing team (Rachel and Emma) #thank you casting directors #thank you costume department #ruby cruz #hazel callahan #bottoms 2023 #bottoms movie

[lightbulb-warning]

Saiuoma not-Week not-Day 4: pregame

discussing Hot Takes from your hyperfixation, loudly, on public transport, is a love language all by itself

#you’ve heard of my uncle works at Nintendo get ready for my aunt works at team Danganronpa #saioumaweek2023 #kokichi ouma #shuichi saihara #saiouma #saiou #pregame saiouma #ive been in this fandom for barely two weeks I know nothing of pregame fanon #*projects my neurodivergencies on fav characters* my job here is done. #drv3 #drv3 pregame #danganronpa fanart #my art #maiora draws #one day I’ll learn to write dialogue while I’m planning layouts. one day. that day was not today. #the priority here was vibes /lh #started drawing this 23 Jun 2023 finished 10 Jul 2023 #yes I specifically made a tumblr because I wanted to participate in saiouma week #thanks for reading have a nice day

[whump-in-the-closet]

Hear me out (again).

Superhero whump, where VIllian’s power is to hurt people with touch.

So, basically, Villian can torture Hero for hours without having to stop because they aren’t hurting Hero’s physical body (if that makes sense?)

(And what if, since it doesn’t leave scars nobody believes Hero later?)

DUDE YES. YESYES YES. there is so much angst and suffering

At first, Hero didn’t understand why Villain wore gloves. Then Villain traced the tip of their finger over Hero’s jaw, and it made sense.

If someone had shoved a cattle prod under their skin, it would have hurt less. The pain was electric, and throbbed through their entire body— pounding behind their eyes—sinking deeper than any physical blow.

Hero didn’t realize they were shaking until Villain laughed softly. “Why, I’ve only touched you.”

Villain wrapped a hand around Hero’s wrist, watching as they jerked back against their restraints, back arching in a silent scream. “I thought you were tougher than that,” said Villain and took hold of Hero’s other wrist. This time, Hero cried out— the sound more animal than human.

The torture session lasted six hours. After, Villain pulled out a handheld mirror. Hero didn’t know what they expected to see but…they looked the same. Like the past six hours never happened.

The second session lasted seven hours. After the fifth, Hero stopped screaming because their voice no longer worked.

“It’s not like you have information I want,” Villain told them. “This is just fun.”

When Hero’s teammates find them, they expect Hero to be battered, beaten, unrecognizable. Sure, Hero was chained to a table, but they looked fine. They had deep purple bags under their eyes and looked terrified, but other than that? they looked fine.

“You couldn’t manage to get of here on your own?”

They undo Hero’s restraints but make no other effort to help them.

Later, no one notices how Hero flinches from touch.

Hero doesn’t allow anyone to place a hand on them. Ever. Everyone assumes Hero is simply paranoid. But when it continues, the team grows tired.

“You’re fine. Villain didn’t even hurt you.”

“You really expect us to believe you got hurt in there? The medic’s report said you had no physical damage.”

“Stop trying to make us pity you. It’s not working”

Hero looks in the mirror and tries, desperately, to find any sign of the electric pain they endured. There’s nothing. Their eyes are emptier though, glassy and cold.

#whump #whump writing #whumpblr #whump prompt #whump ideas #whump community #whump scenario #troy talks #thanks for the ask anon you’re so right for this #hero whumpee #hero and villain #villain whumper #team dynamic

[givethispromptatry]

Tags

#hey all #just wanted to remind you that this is a fun place to get writing ideas and i am literally just some rando on the internet #this means i am not always right and in fact am very often wrong #a lot of you are very kind and help me out when i get stuff wrong #i try to acknowledge those people and thank them for their help #however #if you choose to be rude or needlessly mean to me or a follower on a post and i see it i will block you #i have no time for negativity here (i get enough of that in my regular life) #shaming others for ignorance when they genuinely don't know something just makes you an enemy rather than a friend #no need to be judgy #this is a hobby blog by a public school teacher in some random city #not an international team of competant individuals #thank you for reading the tag rant! happy writing

[cowbeaus]

pyro holding fire slime #pyroholdingfireslime (pyro holding fire slime btw)

[ID: A digital drawing in colour of Pyro from Team Fortress 2 holding happily a Fire Slime from Slime Rancher, which has its eyes closed in a content expression. The background shows a pale sky with a rainbow and clouds. There are small hearts and stars surrounding Pyro's head. End of ID]

#first actual tf2 drawing. pyro holding fire slime #autism hours. silly hours. dangerous illegal activities hours #art #digital art #fanart #tf2 #pyro #tf2 pyro #team fortress 2 #slime rancher #major thanks to aidoubackster for writing the id!!!!!!

[rosainta]

Team Fortress 2: 12 Flash Fiction Excerpts

('ms pauling' by makani on DeviantArt: https://www.deviantart.com/makani/art/ms-pauling-208768568)

(Author's Notes (A/N) at the end. For now, enjoy these slices of TF2 writing cake, baked with the batter of my mind!) * * *

1 "The Runner's a Fool."

[Written 10-3-2024]

Scout’s heart was bursting as he ran through the underbrush.

He didn’t look back; he couldn’t. Not after what he saw. If he had known sooner, he might not have spent so much energy trying to woo her...

Maybe he wouldn’t have made such a fool of himself.

2 "Player of The Heart."

[Written 10-3-2024]

“Fine, one more time”, he grumbled.

Pauling gleamed as she turned to the tape player. Changing the song to something more romantic, she hummed along and placed herself into his arms. They began to sway with the music.

Sniper felt his heart racing, but his thoughts raced quicker.

He wondered: would the one he really loved be into this too?

3 "Long Overdue."

[Written 10-3-2024]

Spy knew what he had to do.

He sat down next to the crying boy, gently putting a hand on his back. “Screw off!” the younger yelled, pushing him away.

Seeing him like this broke him; it did every time. But he took a deep breath and said what he should have all those years ago:

“I am sorry, Scout.”

4 "What Happens if You Feed the Machine? (Or In This Case, Water It?)"

[Written 10-3-2024]

“Yer no fun, lad!”

“Come on now, you know how I’ve been goin’ dry...”

“What’s one bottle a’ scrumpy goin’ to do to you?”

“Well, let’s see here. How many eyeballs o’ yours do my teleporters teleport per use?”

“Er, one.”

“Well, expect that to be one less the next time ‘round, pardner.”

He chuckled, and in an instant, he gulped it all down.

5 "Soldier's Solace."

[Written 11-3-2024]

Soldier stared at the grand moon from the roof of the base.

After the day’s fighting and bread teleporting, the other mercenaries were off to bed. But Soldier remained, smiling contentedly from under his helmet without another care in the world.

Somehow, he knew that right then and for as long as he dreamed, everything would be alright.

6 "Буквы говорят о любви."

[Written 12-3-2024]

If Heavy learned one thing in all his years of studying Russian literature, it was that writing wasn’t something you did; it was something you became.

So, picking up the ink pen, he let his hand go and embodied with all he had what meant most to him.

“It is time I tell you, Doktor.”

7 "Like The Warmth of a Fireplace."

[Written 13-3-2024]

Pyro looked at Engineer as a child does a Mall Santa, clapping. “Huddah, huddah!”

“Okay, one more, just for you.”

The technician took a deep breath and began to strum on the old guitar, his low voice singing a song of pink skies. Pyro swayed to the beat in bliss.

And, with every hum, the two grew closer.

8 "A Smile Means A Million Words, That Is Until You Speak."

[Written 14-3-2024]

Scout liked sketching.

While words weren’t his forte, art allowed him to express what he felt but could never say. He licked his lips, furrowed his eyebrows, and furiously scratched at the page with a pencil. Every detail, every form-- they had to be perfect.

When he was done, he proudly smiled at his creation.

And it smiled back.

BONUS!

As he admired his creation, he didn’t notice Sniper approaching him.

“And just what are you scribblin' off today, mate?”

Scout snapped around, flustered. He wasn't expecting company, and especially not from him.

“A-ah, hey, Snipes!", he blurted out. "It's nothing, really. Just another drawing of Spy screwin’ those... stupid French bread swords, whatever ya' call 'em.”

As he stammered an excuse, his face slowly turning red, he didn’t realize that his creation's rough, sketched face-- a picture of the marksman himself!-- was peaking through the corner of the sketchbook in the crook of his arm. Sniper paused for a moment as he stared at the work in awe, its own happily gazing back at him. Then, snapping out of his trance, he wordlessly turned back to smile at the younger man.

“You’ve got some talent, kid," he said, softly. "Please, don’t waste it.”

Then, quick as he came, he ambled away.

Scout was left standing, bewildered, and admittedly a bit confused, and he slowly turned back to look back at his drawing.

He traced the rough face of the man, looking wistfully with a tinge of giddiness in his eyes.

“If only you knew...", he whispered to himself without thinking. "Maybe then I could draw you like one of my French girls.”

Then, upon realizing the stupidity of his own remark (and of its disgusting, Spy-related... Frenchness), he immediately gagged.

“Ew, crap, no!”

Somewhere in the distance, Spy instinctively rolled his eyes.

9 "I Feel Olive!"

[Written 15-3-2024]

Medic pinched his nose, a low groan rumbling from him.

"What is wrong, Doktor? You seem stressed", Heavy asked, concernedly lifting his nose from his book.

Medic turned to him, tired eyes smiling weakly. "Ah, it iz nothing. Just... ze dull, useless legal documents. You know, as per usual."

"Well, if it makes Medic feel any better, Heavy ran out of olive for sandvich, so eating it was practically useless! I could not even digest it without big frown", he said, frowning in turn.

He grumbled, continuing, "What Heavy means to say is... you are not alone in your troubles."

Medic paused for a bit, before laughing and grinning back at the giant. He was grateful for this goofy big old man.

"Oh, you alvays know what to say, Heavy. Come on, let us escape this prison of an office and find you that olive. I am getting quite hungry and ze papers can wait, after all!"

10 "Off-Target."

[Written 29-3-2024]

Scout's mind just. couldn't. think.

His head was jumbled, a puzzle with the pieces too lost in the messy maze of his brain ever to solve. He wished he could crack open his skull like he did the BLUs on the field; maybe that would knock some sense into him.

He really needed to focus. Sniper always did.

So, why couldn't he?

11 "Our Paths Shall Cross Again."

[Written 4-4-2024]

It pained him to see her like this.

So, for the first time in his life, he put his pride aside and took one last glance at the sleeping lady before leaving the room.

Scout wished he could stay all night and marvel at her familiar, sheer beauty, even as she slept so frail. But he knew what she needed most was not him, but help.

Who knew what she went through those 2 years?

He resigned himself to the couch, closing his eyes. His affections for Miss Pauling would have to wait, as they always did, but he was fine with that.

She was safe, and that’s what mattered most to him.

12 "Guess Who's Up For Surgery?"

[Written 6-4-2024]

Medic was practically laughing with joy! Or, in his peculiar case, cackling maniacally.

Ah, it was of no matter— the doctor was filled to the brim with inspiration! So many projects to start and bodies to stitch; oh, what a wonderful feeling!

Heavy smiled as he watched the doctor go about his merry way.

Sure, when he was in this mood, that likely meant imminent danger for all those around him (they’d be his newest experiment, no doubt), but seeing him happy always made Heavy’s heart feel a little lighter.

So, as the doctor bounced up to him with his newest rambling, he didn’t protest!

* * *

Author's Notes: Over the past weeks, I've been working on being more spontaneous in my writing—no planning, just writing with the flow! And what better way to do that than to write flash fiction about my favourite fandom? (Plus, I have been practically absent here (post-wise) for, what, months? So why not use this as an excuse to share them with you? Ehehe... Okay, let's forget I said anything; moving on!) Flash fiction, with its creative liberties and curt nature, is an excellent medium (not forgetting to mention the fact it's a disgracefully UNDERRATED form of media!) that inspires me to write because it sort of... brutally invalidates any excuse of author's block I have... since it is literally spilling the words from your conscience into text WITHOUT the worry of length (ah! My greatest enemies...). Plus, it is... sort of, maybe, kinda addicting because it's just so freakishly simple, and the more you do it, the more productive you'll be and feel! Isn't that wonderful? (It could even be a drug! Er, well, a good one... wait, is there even a thing as a good drug? Ah- nevermind.) Anyway, if you're struggling with author's block, I'd heavily recommend trying it. Of course, it may not work for everyone (and I am not here to legally endorse this like a paid sponsor!) but it's still worth a shot if you haven't yet already. And hey, if it doesn't, you can feel free to blame me for the waste of time! Don't worry, I won't mind. Before we go on, I have to take this moment now to thank the one sweet old woman (whom I've unfortunately forgotten the name of) who first taught me about it a few years back during a summer writing course. She taught me much about what I know and love today, so I owe this and much of my writing happiness and technique to her! Thank you, lady. May you continue to write on!! Anyhow, to give you more context, these are all excerpts taken from a private account (but not a secret one! It's out there... somewhere...) of mine, edited for quality purposes and also because a few of the original excerpts bugged me due to their... well, innate cringiness. Hopefully, there's less of it now, but I wouldn't count on my eradicating it as it seems that cringe is just a part of my habitual writing style (I am sorry to disappoint, unnamed woman from the course... I have failed you). I hope that at least is is bearable enough for you to read. However, if not, I offer you my greatest condolences. If you'd like some bleach for your eyes, I have that too. You can also tell by the number of Speeding Bullet and Red Oktoberfest excerpts that I was... in quite the shipping mood for some of them. So, if that doesn't bug you, feel free to indulge yourselves in these characters as I obsessively have over the course of writing these!! It would be my pleasure to offer that liberty to you (and perhaps, shamelessly to myself as well, ahaha..), so please, go ahead. Anyway, that's all of the random blurbs I have to ramble on about today. Thank you for reading- or skimming, at the very least- and please have a marvellous day, pally~!

~ Rosain Quivan

#tf2 #team fortress 2 #tf2 sniper #tf2 spy #tf2 demoman #tf2 miss pauling #writing #tf2 scout #tf2 pyro #tf2 medic #tf2 heavy #tf2 soldier #tf2 engineer #rosain quivan's daily logs #flash fiction #short story #thank you unnamed woman from the course #please forgive the cringe #first post in a while #sniper x scout #speeding bullet #red oktoberfest #heavy x medic

[byunejoo]

intern!euijoo who doesn’t work in your department, so you’d never met him before, but you’d be a dirty liar if you said you’d never heard of him before.

intern!euijoo who everyone describes as gentle and kind, never seeming to have any kind of trouble with anyone, and in fact goes out of his way to cheer others up and make them happy.

intern!euijoo who everyone thinks is so shy and timid but could talk you out of your pants before you knew it when you meet him by chance outside of work.

intern!euijoo who you coincidentally run into at work, his sultry gaze replaced with wide, round, curious eyes and his once confident smile replaced by anxiously bitten lips.

intern!euijoo who you have to see every day when your teams get paired together for an upcoming project.

intern!euijoo who you have to spend a lot of one on one time with, as the most senior member of both teams, in order to properly coordinate with him.

intern!euijoo who you definitely don’t start sneaking around at the office with.

#&team smut #andteam smut #&team hard hours #andteam hard hours #&team hard thoughts #andteam hard thoughts #&team ej smut #&team euijoo smut #euijoo smut #byun euijoo smut #i’m thinking about writing this so pls don’t take this idea thank u

[hotcinnamonsunset]

muffins??? seems pretty sus🧐

[Image ID: 2 gifs from different 911 episodes involving Maddie and muffins and a bonus gif

GIF 1: from episode 2.5 the Awful People dispatcher handing Maddie a muffin in the break room after a stressful call. GIF 2: from episode 6.13 Maddie's fake neighbor handing her a pan of muffins. BONUS GIF: from episode 5.3 Ana trying to clean up Eddie's kitchen after the blackout where the kitchen table is swamped with muffins.

/end ID]

bonus:

#911 #911edit #911 on fox #911 described #maddie buckley #eddie diaz #ana flores #911 parallels #someone on the writing team has a beef with muffins...they always show up when nothing good is about to happen... #also…can the slutty dispatch polos come back please and thank it’s for science #SBedits

[autisticlancemcclain]

i want it to last forever (all the magic and fun at sea) -- beachisode zine fic!

-- -- --

The screech of the comm knocks Keith out of his laser focus. He barely manages to dodge the blow from the Gladiator, aimed for his face, throwing himself to the side at the last second. He calls out for the simulation to end as the comm buzzes and crackles with static, wincing at the feedback. By the time it settles into something that doesn’t hurt to hear, he’s gulped down three water pouches and sips slowly on his fourth, catching his breath.

“No it’s — my — Pidge, let go, it’s my turn!”

“Nuh-uh! You get to announce all the time! I want to!”

“I’m just better at it!”

“Liar! Let — Hunk, I am going to taze you!”

The sound of their squabbling makes him snort. He won’t be hearing any announcement for a while if they’re like this, so instead of waiting around for instructions he just scoops up his comm, tugs on a shirt, and heads to the bridge.

As expected, the sounds of scuffling only escalate. Keith can’t tell for sure, but he’s reasonably certain that Hunk and Pidge have graduated to actively trying to claw the intercom mic away from each other. He thinks he even heard the buzzing of Pidge’s bayard, as threatened previously.

As he’s walking past the kitchen, he hears static again, and then a clunk followed by brisk footsteps. Hunk and Pidge’s whining quickly follows.

“Aw, Coran, no fair!”

“C’mon, you always let Allura announce stuff! We never get a turn!”

Seconds later, another voice fills the radio waves, prim and proper and positively dripping with smug satisfaction:

“All paladins please report to the bridge, we’re receiving a foreign call.”

Keith snorts. Hunk and Pidge should have known it was a lost cause. There are only two people on this ship who Coran blatantly favouritizes, and it is neither of them.

He sees the exact scene he expects to see when he walks into the bridge — Hunk and Pidge sulking in their chairs, scowling at the Princess and each other, and Allura sticking her tongue out at them behind Coran’s back. As Allura mentioned, a calling code flashes up on the screen, dialling into their non-emergency line.

Keith walks over to his own chair and sits down, pulling up the number to look at its diagnostics.

“You smell like a gym bag,” Pidge complains, wrinkling her nose at him. Keith considers throwing his sweat-soaked shirt at her just to hear her scream. She turns to Shiro, who has just walked into the bridge. “Shiro, make him change.”

“Do not even think about it,” Shiro says immediately, looking at where Keith has his hands curled around the hem of his shirt. He rolls his eyes and makes a show of letting go. “And Pidge, stop being dramatic. He’s not even sitting anywhere near you.”

At once, Pidge in Keith are allied again, if only to look at each other and roll their eyes as hard as they can as Shiro watches, hoping to make him as exasperated as possible. Judging by the weight of his sigh, it works.

They smirk at each other. Success.

“So what’s this call?” Shiro asks, sitting in his own chair. He presses a button on his dash and the ringing noise accompanying the flashing notification mute.

“We were hoping one of you would know,” Coran says. “The call came in ten doboshes ago. It’s not a recorded number, and it’s encrypted, so none of us know where it’s from. The closest star we can triangulate to it is BX-SD78R3.”

All three present humans stare at the advisor blankly. He holds up a finger, ruffling through some papers until he finds a folded one, unfolding the thing like a map and staring at it intensely, forehead creasing as he tries to decipher the rudimentary Altean characters.

“Ah. The Road Work Ahead Star.”

“Ohhh, okay,” Hunk says. His understanding is echoed in the rest of the paladin’s expressions. “I know that one.”

A couple years ago, now, Lance got fed up with all intergalactically recognised names for stars and systems. He was not the only one. Try as they might, none of them were capable of memorizing thousands of strings of alphanumeric codes, especially not when they were translated into Terran characters. Hunk helpfully described it as hearing the letters but only static happening in his brain. The codes simply didn’t /mean/ anything, the way that words did. The whole thing was just a mess, and it made it hard for the team to strategise, because the Alteans would name a star or system, and the humans would shrug helplessly at them until they pulled out a map or pointed out the nearest planet they recognised.

Lance, of course, was the first to handle the problem. He spent weeks writing out a list renaming every single star or system to something the humans could understand, with their intergalactic names right next to them so everyone could translate. Many of the names were relevant, and made sense — names like Arus for the Arusian planet, Space Mall Moon for the space mall moon, on and on — but many systems simply weren’t occupied, or didn’t have an easily determined name, so Lance just named them after random pop culture things.

Whatever works, honestly.

“Did they send a message?” Pidge asks, clicking through the lines of code of the encryptions.

“Nothing. It’s just a call.”

Hunk hums, squinting at the calling code like it will turn into answers at his behest. “Do we think it’s Galra?”

“It’s a possibility,” Allura agrees. “If it were a call to our emergency line, then answering it would be worth the risk — many planets are just hearing of us and do not know our proposed safety measures. Besides, that line has all of Pidge’s anti-Empire tracking and encryption software. This line not so much. If we connect it and it’s an Empire infiltration, then we’ll get tracked, and we’ll have to prepare for an ambush.”

Keith whistles. “High odds.”

“Yes. So we’ll have to come to a decision, then. I sent the mice after Lance, he should be here any —”

“I’m here! I’m here! I’m not late!” As if summoned, Lance comes barrelling into the bridge, soaking wet, nearly braining himself on the ground as he slips on water and fails to catch himself since the mice are cradled carefully in his hands. Undeterred, he scrambles back to his feet and slides into his chair, grinning sheepishly at everyone else. “Sorry! I was swimming laps and my comm was in my clothes. Plus the castle signal is iffy in there. I didn’t know there was a meeting until the mice came to get me. Thanks, by the way.” He turns the full power of his beam towards Allura, who visibly softens, raised eyebrow turning into something more amused than annoyed. “Anyways. I’m here now. What are we doing?” He turns to his screen and notices the flashing call code. “Oh, hey, that’s Plaxum’s area code!”

Before anyone can stop him, strangled shouts ringing through the bridge, he slams his hand down on a button on his dash.

Keith hears Shiro’s loud “FUCK!” from behind him, which usually would make him gasp really loud and shout something about virgin ears, just to irritate his brother, but his lungs are currently occupied with the breath he is holding in them, waiting as the call flashes twice and connects.

Luckily, the face that comes into focus is not a smirking Galran officer.

Unluckily, Lance is right — the jellyfish-hat-clad face of a grinning mermaid, blue-skinned and bright eyed. Plaxum.

Lance has mentioned her once or twice in passing. He’s mentioned that he keeps in contact with a lot of people from the planets in their alliance, the mermaid planet included. He had not mentioned that he is in contact with Plaxum so often that he has her area code memorized.

Something gross and bitter churns in Keith’s stomach.

“Lance!” Plaxum — and Keith has never met her, but Lance has made it pretty clear who this person is — shouts, loud enough that it’s clear even through the long-distance static.

“Plax!” Lance shouts back. His beam has gotten ten times brighter, if at all possible. “How are you?”

“Lance,” Shiro interrupts before they get lost in their conversation, “maybe ask what’s going on, kiddo. We didn’t recognize the calling code, we thought it might have been Empire. Scared us when you answered.”

The brightness in Lance’s brown eyes dim considerably. Despite Keith’s distaste for it before, as horrible as that is, he’s sad to see it go.

“Oh,” he says quietly. “I didn’t mean — sorry, guys, I should’ve checked. I didn’t think.”

“All good, lad,” Coran assures, clapping him on the shoulder. “You did think, after all. You recognised the calling code. Next time let us in on it, but your judgement was sound.”

As he always does, Coran has said the perfect right thing, some of the guilt vanishes from Lance’s expression. He smiles at the advisor before turning his gaze back to the mermaid.

“Why did you call the Voltron line? You usually just call me.”

“‘Cause you lost your comm again, dummy,” Plaxum explains patiently. “You stopped answering after your last mission. I called to make sure you were alive. And because I needed to ask you something.”

Lance huffs, matching her playfulness. “Right, let me just ask Zarkon to hold off on attempting to blow me up so I don’t keep losing comms to laser fire.”

“It would be grandly appreciated, thank you.”

“Uh huh,” Lance snorts. “Anyways. Is that the only reason you called? You said there was another reason.”

“Oh yeah!” Plaxum shifts her gaze slightly, pupil-less eyes looking at all the team members. “You are all cordially invited to the Ice Break Festival!”

Lance gasps in delight. Keith is relieved to see he’s not the only one who has no idea what’s going on.

“I thought your planet was completely covered in ice,” Hunk asks carefully.

“For most of the year! But for one small portion, we are close enough to the sun that the heat skyrockets. Enough of the ice melts that we can swim to the surface, and that our plants can receive the sunlight they need to keep alive during the rest of the year.”

“And beaches?” Lance asks hopefully.

“Dozens,” Plaxum replies with a grin. “Actually, the Great Heat hits pretty suddenly, so it melts much of the ice around the shallowest parts of the oceans in the first day, pulling the ice sheet away from the beaches. The water is freezing, but the air is nice and hot. We’ve never had land-dwellers on our planet before, so I don’t know how it would be, but you’re welcome to come a day early and try, if you like.”

Lance is not the only one to immediately turn pleading eyes towards Shiro. Allura has joined in on Lance’s wistful retelling of sitting by the beach on numerous occasions, having many of them on Altea. Hunk grew up on a surfboard as much as Lance did. Pidge has fond memories of visiting the Lake Michigan beaches with her family.

Keith has never been to a proper beach before. But there was this tepid little man-made lake in a provincial park in Arizona. It was hours away from the Garrison. But once a year, every summer like clockwork, Shiro and Adam would drag him out to it, kicking and screaming usually. As much as the water smelt stale and the picturesque sand was replaced with uniform grey rocks, he has fond memories of that, too.

“I’d like that,” Keith says quietly, among the sounds of his friends’ shameless begging.

Shiro raises an eyebrow. “Really?”

Keith shrugs. “Vacation’s a vacation.”

Shiro doesn’t need anymore convincing (his softie ass never needed it from the beginning, honestly). “We’ll leave first thing tomorrow,” he says.

The team erupts into cheers.

———

Lance is practically buzzing from excitement. He’d taken off as soon as Plaxum had hung up yesterday afternoon, hollering something about getting everything packed. He’d been nothing more than a blur from then until late in the evening, rushing from the kitchen to the storage rooms to his own room and to everyone else’s room, too, making sandwiches for lunch and gathering towels and even digging around with Allura to find swimsuits for everyone. He’d spent forty minutes lamenting about sunscreen and how Alteans never invented it and how they were all going to get melanoma before Pidge had snapped and stomped off to go invent some. The whole thing had been very amusing, until Lance had marched into Keith’s room and starting bossing him around (“You can’t wear your boots to the beach, Keith! It’s the beach!”).

As the castle approaches the blindingly white sandy beaches of the usual icy tundra, Lance’s excitement builds in the air, and soon everyone is grinning, clutched onto their towels and beach bags and coolers and pails and volleyballs (or the Altean equivalent, at least.) By the time the castle just barely touches the ground, the anticipation is so great it feels like a balloon blown so wide and stretched so thin it’s a hair’s breadth away from exploding. Keith isn’t sure if he’s even breathing.

The second the ramp extends to the ground, they’re racing out the door, screaming with pure excitement.

“It smells like the ocean!” Lance cries. He’s legitimately jumping up and down in excitement.

“I am going to have such a good nap,” Shiro sighs.

“There are seagulls,” Pidge says gleefully. Keith considers telling her how much she looks like an unhinged toddler, especially with the giant hat Lance “Mother Hen” McClain made her wear, but reconsiders when he notices she is the one holding the pointy beach umbrella.

“Yeah, I’m fighting the urge to call her one too,” Hunk whispers to him.

Keith snorts. He follows the rest of the team down to the waves, carefully committing all the new sensations to memory in his head: the smell of the seawater, the burning sand beneath his bare feet, the weight of seven beach chairs in his arms, the wind whipping his hair all over his face. His favourite feeling of all is the tangible joy in the air, the almost sweet relief of a sunny, well-deserved break, where for once they are all sure that nothing is going to go wrong. It’s a naive assumption, and they’re smarter than it, but they leave their bayards in the bottom of the bags anyway, keeping their heads turned to the sun.

Coran picks them a nice spot to set down their things — close enough to the water that no one will lose sight of any swimmers, but far enough that no one will get wet. They’re pretty close to some rock and cave formations too, which will be a nice shelter from the sun as they say stretches on. Fun to explore, too.

The second everything is set down and settled, everyone gets right to whatever activity they’re looking forward to most. Shiro fluffs out his towel, has Keith slap some sunscreen on his back, then passes the fuck out on the sand. Allura curls up next to him, adjusting her floppy pink hat, sliding on her comically oversized sunglasses, and cracking open her book. Coran, Hunk, and Pidge bust out the pails and shovels and the blueprints they drew up last night to start building their sand replica of the castle. Lance straps a pair of dorky, bug-eyed glasses to his face and turns to Keith, sticking out his hand. On reflex Keith grabs it, curling his fingers into long, thin ones. It’s not the first time he and Lance have held hands (that was once a punishment of Shiro’s; something he would force them to do when their arguing got on his last nerve), but it’s the first time Keith feels his naked palm, rough and calloused all over, press against Lance’s soft and smooth one, no leather between them.

“Come find shells with me!”

Keith couldn’t even dream of saying no.

He follows as Lance pulls him into the water, stumbling after him as he sprints. Lance yanks him into the waves faster than he can process, and he’s up to his knees before the cold sets in, and it startles him so badly he laughs, loud and sudden.

They dive into the next big wave, and Keith forgets to hold his breath, coming up sputtering and coughing. Lance cackles, splashing water at him while he chokes because he is the worst. Keith is so painfully endeared that it’s actually humiliating, and to redeem himself he tackles him into the waves, revelling in his shrieking laughter and his later complaint of saltwater up his nose.

At some point, at what Keith imagines is Allura’s insistence, everyone else joins them in the waves. They immediately descend into a game of chicken. Pidge scampers up Hunk’s shoulders like the little rat that she is (Keith makes sure he’s out of biting range when he says that, and unfortunately does not expect a clump of sand to the head), Allura gleefully throws Shiro on hers, and Lance doesn’t even ask before climbing up Keith’s hip and settling behind his head like a particularly aggravating monkey (something Keith is happy to tell him) thighs bracketing his head and ankles crossed at his abdomen.

Keith goes so violently red that he’s genuinely kind of shocked that he can turn that colour.

“Squeeze any tighter, Lance, and Keefers over there is going to evaporate the entire ocean,” Pidge says drily.

Keith does not wait for her to get situated on Hunk’s shoulders, or for Coran — who’s refereeing — to tell them go. He charges.

Despite his brain relaying a constant stream of Oh God Lance’s thighs are wrapped around your head holy shit he’s sitting on your shoulders and he’s barely dressed his fucking legs are so long why are they so long does he have to be this attractive is that even possible what the fuck is the deal with that, he manages to put his full attention into going absolutely ham. He charges, dodges, leaps and bounds, intent on being the winning team of this ridiculous but admittedly fun game.

Obviously, considering who they’re up against, Keith and Lance are the first ones out. One mighty shove from Allura sends them careening towards the icy waves, shrieking at the top of their lungs.

With Lance’s calves a healthy distance away from Keith’s face, however, he regains his ability to function, and as such he thinks they accept their loss with grace. (Wherein Keith means they complain immediately about the game being rigged and dramatically profess how they are going to ditch everyone’s cheating asses. All in good fun.)

“C’mon, Keith,” Lance says, somehow finding their hands linked again, “let’s blow this popsicle stand.”

They run away to their friends’ teasing booing, sprinting to the sand and ducking past the rocks and out of sight, giggling to themselves.

“Oh, hey, look!” Lance points to a small pool of water surrounded by the same beige-ish rock of the rest of the caves. “A grotto!” He bounds over to it leaving Keith to quickly follow, sliding in as soon as he’s close enough. A sigh leaks out of him as he settles in, water up to his neck. “Oh, God, it’s sun warmed.” He turns to face Keith, flashing a smile. “Come in.”

Helpless to disobey and well aware that Lance could be full of shit, pranking him, Keith does. To his peasant surprise, however, it’s warm, but not hot, like bedsheets on a cold morning. Keith can actively feel the stress leeching out of his body as he leans against the rock.

“God, that’s nice.”

Keith hadn’t realised he’d closed his eyes, but he opens them again when he doesn’t hear Lance’s response, and quickly behinds to panic when he doesn’t see him.

“Lance?” he shouts, making no effort to hide his fear. “Lance? Where the fuck are you?”

Heart pounding, he pushes off the edge of the little pool, craning his neck over to the side, but he doesn’t see a mop of brown curls or a flash of white teeth or a long, flailing limb.

“Lance? Lance, answer me! La —”

“— I can’t believe they have these shells here, too, I mean —”

“Oh my God,” Keith chokes out to himself, hand pressed to his chest as Lance swims out from around the bend, eyes trained on his cupped hands. “Oh my God, I am going to smack you. Come here.”

“Huh?” Lance looks up from his shell, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. He quickly understands when he reads the tenseness of Keith’s shoulders, the naked relief in his face. “Oh.” He smiles apologetically. “My bad. Saw something shiny.”

If it weren’t for the wobble in his voice, evident of choked back laughter, Keith would believe his apology. Instead, he glares at him, splashing him with an endless barrage of water until he pleads for mercy.

“Stop, stop, okay! I’m sorry for real!” He curls a hand around Keith’s wrist, squeezing, pulling it towards him so Keith can’t use it. His grin is wide and so so breathtaking. Keith can’t help his own smile in return.

“Thanks for coming with me,” Lance whispers when the water settles again. His grin has softened into something small, buttery and sweet. “Plax was telling me about this place. I couldn’t wait to bring you. It’s been all I was thinking about since we got the call.”

The horrible thing that had settled in his chest, that he had largely ignored since they touched down this morning, begins to dissipate. As Lance links their hands together, floating over next to him, it dissipates entirely.

“Thanks for bringing me,” Keith whispers back. He squeezes Lance’s hand, and he squeezes back, and the sound of their friends laughter echoes over the waves, and he’s warm and settled and happy, and everything is so, unbelievably good.

#i tried to write this for WEEKS i was so late lol #i was like in tears try after try after try wondering why the fuck it was so hard and then i was like wait dumbass #just do what ur good at. whipped keith and annoying family team #and then boom. thank u lyc for ur patience ur the bestest #vld #voltron #keith #keith kogane #lance #lance mcclain #klance #shiro #takashi shirogane #allura #princess allura #coran #coran coran the gorgeous man #hunk #hunk garrett #pidge #pidge holt #team as family #beach episode #brown eyed lance #whipped keith #oh and also my dear #plaxum #my writing #fic #longpost

[sharkfinn]

Ik ik, I literally JUST sent in an ask, but I just wanna sayyy

Everytime I talk about your AU, I always say that its the first and probably the only OC insert that I like. Because the story is actually really interesting?? Like, what if the teetles had another brother that they got separated from?? That has SO MUCH WHOLESOME POTENTIAL I LOVE IT.

Also your OC IS SO CUTEEE OMG OMG OMG

He's just a lil guy! And he's SUCH a likeable OC tooo! Like I see a lot of OC inserts on my fyp, but none of them I really like, y’know?

But yours

YOuRs

I can't he's just so cute

I love him.

youve embarassed him

#okay seriously thank you though :) #it makes me really happy knowing that people want to read about my silly little oc #i know people usually tend to lean towards stories revolving around canon characters #because well- you've already been introduced to them and have had a whole professional team writing their character beforehand etc etc #if the show wasn't cancelled the 5th sibling storyline wouldve happened with big mamas assistant. we have been robbed #im literally so insane over my own au and i physically cannot talk about it because of SPOILERS RAARGGHHHH #sharkfinnasks #sharkfinnarts #little brother au #rottmnt #rottmnt oc #rottmnt au #rise of the tmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles

[5eraphim]

Just saw ur lovely request are open once again,but I want to see some headcanons between zed and maynard when you- a former mercenary that left the war- comes back to check on the team- only to be terrified and creeped out by the surroundings.

And upon exploring inside- you find yourself to get lost upon the building..and when you saw a resemblance of your old teammate; engineer you couldn't help but be relieved..in a hurry you went over to him- and began to ramble and talk to him in worry..however you noticed something was off by the way he acts..he doesn't seem to know you..he seems surprised.. and when you call him dell- he even chuckles as if he finds it funny..

He offers you to go somewhere else- saying it's not safe- being lost and naive- you follow- making him actually lead you deeper inside.

You used to work here- why did this place suddenly became complex for you to wander around?

But then suddenly an another engineer appears and you panicked, raising your only weapon up towards them, but the engineer beside you stops you- taking the gun away from you.

You became confused- telling him there's an enemy right in front of you and he just laughs. You hear the supposed enemy engineer ask who you are- calling the engineer you first met- maynard and you became more confused and panicked as you realizes that this guy wasn't the same engineer you worked with.. and well.. this rambling could go even further with them trapping you inside the conagher slaughter house.

I 100% forgot you wanted this "headcanons" style, and drafted the entire oneshot before I Realized. I hope that's alright with you! Thank you so much for the request, I really hope you enjoy.

Title: Where He Once Stood

Characters: Maynard and Zed (Emesis Blue)

Rating: M (MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, GO PLAY OUTSIDE)

Content Warnings: Reader is gender neutral, x reader, implied forced intimacy, power imbalance, deceptive abduction, slight amnesia, yandere

Word Count: 3.7k

MASTER LIST

TIP JAR

"The harvest is past, the summer is ended, and we are not saved." (Jeremiah 8:20)

"Even blood washes out, or you can fill your mouth with things that hide the taste." Sophie MacKintosh, Excerpt from "Cursed Bread"

You thought you knew your way around this place; you'd been around these parts plenty of times before. Sure, some years had passed, but that didn't explain how utterly lost you felt wandering Dustbowl. You ditched the war ages ago to find your own way in life, and you were content with that. It wasn't until recently that you decided you wanted to catch up with your closest friend from your time serving, Dell. 

As a Sniper, you didn't interact much with the Engineer, but it wasn't your time on the battlefield you remembered fondly. It was his warmth and kindness at the end of the day, how excited you would get meeting up with him and the rest of the team for breakfast every day, despite knowing the grim work in store for you later in the day, and all the other moments of levity during such a dark time in your life. He was a good man, much too good to be stuck fighting the war.

The flashlight's beam did little to cut through the intense darkness overhead, and you could tell rain was due any minute now. You expected navigation would be tricky, but this was absolutely futile. The longer you wandered, the more your brain fog intensified, making you feel like a small child lost in the dark looking for their mother, jumping at shadows and fearing the sound of wind whipping overhead was the voices of ghosts.

Mindlessly, you fiddled with the strap securing your rifle to your body. Passing by a reflective window, you did a double take, catching your reflection. Looking down, you realized you were in your old Sniper's uniform. You could've sworn you came here dressed in civilian clothes when you departed, but frustratingly, you couldn't remember for sure.

In the distance, thunder rumbled, the storm was closing in, and you needed to find your way to proper shelter. Feeling a light rain against your face, you picked up the pace, trying to find any signs of life nearby, and to your immense relief, after rounding what felt like the hundredth nondescript dark corner, you spotted a light on, and could just make out the blurry details of Dell's old workshop. Running closer, you smiled, seeing the silhouette of someone inside tinkering away. It just had to be Dell!

As you sped closer and got a better look at the workshop, annoyed slightly by the fogged glass obscuring your vision keeping you from seeing inside, but you were too excited to see him again to care much.

Knocking on the door, you yelled, "Dell, open up!"

Watching a silhouette draw closer to the door, you were confused as he stalled for a moment, "Dell, will you let me in! It's freezing out here!"

The door creaked open, and Dell stood stiffly, without hesitating; you wrapped both arms around him, hugging as close as you could, almost sobbing with happiness after finally finding a familiar face around here.

"It's good to see you again! I missed you so much!"

Awkwardly, he patted your back and returned the hug before pulling away, staring at you with an almost blank look. "Sniper?"

Forcing a smile, you tried to ignore how uneasy he was acting, "C'mon Dell, it's me- we fought together for years. Don't tell me you've forgotten already?"

With an odd look on his face, he nodded, a strange smile spread across his face, "Course I remember ya, that's right- it's me, your ol' buddy Dell. It's been a while since I saw your face- whatcha doin' 'round here?"

He was acting weird, but it had been so long since he'd seen you face to face, and you didn't want to say anything. As he let you inside, you couldn't ignore the mess around the workshop. Dell could get buried in his work more than anyone you knew, but he was never so sloppy before. Beer cans littered tables, cigarettes piled over in ashtrays, and countless grease stains streaked across the tables and walls. You had to force yourself to keep from recoiling at the smell of stale air and debris. Seeing your old comrade out of uniform was odd, even if he still dawned the hard hat and goggles. Did he get taller after the war? You wondered but didn't want to ask out loud.

He noticed your staring, even if you were too meek to say anything definitive. With a hearty laugh, he pulled you into a crushing bear hug, "Good to see ya again, partner. It's been awful quiet 'round these parts lately."

You wanted to pull up a chair and catch up, but you couldn't forget the nightmarish terrain you crossed to get here. Pushing away from the hug, biting your lower lip nervously, you spoke, "Dell, I think something's up. We gotta get out of here."

Dell didn't seem to notice how bleak things were outside his shop. "This ol' place? I've been living under this roof since day one… It ain't been that long since you ditched the war." He gave you a cheeky smile, "Don't tell me you've already forgotten this place."

He was right. Objectively, you were fighting in the war just a few years ago, and there was no reason for you to have already forgotten so much. It didn't make any sense. Too insecure about the bizarre amnesia and brain fog to confess to either, you didn't respond, watching Dell cautiously nodding. Dell sighed, "I'm a might busy now, but I can walk with you for a while; I reckon I can take one night off. Help ya outta here an' all."

Stepping away a bit, you expected Dell to lead you back outside, but to your surprise, he drew further into the workshop, bringing you to the door attaching the shop to the rest of the warehouse. He opened the door, holding it open for you as you paced onward. It didn't make sense to you that this could be the way out, but Dell was your friend, and you trusted him. And it wasn't like you had any better ideas.

The two of you shuffled forward in a slightly awkward silence, you couldn't ignore how different everything looked from how you remembered it. How could everything have fallen into disrepair so fast? Windows were shattered, and walls were fractured by massive cracks, it was like the place had been abandoned for at least a decade. Things were run down, broken, and you tried not to consider the possibility you'd somehow stumbled onto enemy territory. You reasoned it was only a matter of time before you saw something you remembered, and if it were the enemy base, surely you'd have gotten yourself shot by now.

Dell broke the silence, "You came all this way to see me. You still talkin' with the others? Any idea how they're holdin' up?"

He sounded so disinterested; it was hard to imagine someone like him hadn't kept up with the others back home, if there was one person to be "a friend to all", it was Dell."I'm not so sure, actually. It's been getting quieter and quieter on their end… I just- I uh, really wanted to come and see you before you went silent too…"

Dell looked over his shoulder to smile at you, but this was an expression you'd never seen from him before. "Well, aren't you just the sweetest thing." Something was seriously off with him, but you couldn't put your finger on it.

You were so unsettled you didn't know how to respond, keeping your head down and hands mindlessly fumbling with your gun strap, trying to hold onto the hope this would all be over soon.

"To get outta here, we're gonna cross someone who don't take kindly to trespassers. But hold my hand, and I promise I'll getcha through." He extended his un-gloved hand for you to take, a kind gesture, but not one you were too thrilled to accept.

Raising an eyebrow, you responded, "If it's just one guy, I think I can defend myself just fine." As you spoke, you tapped the tip of the rifle strapped to your back with your fingernail. 

Dell looked like he was trying to stifle a laugh, "Buddy, don't wanna do that, trust me. Ya ain't gonna win a quick draw against him." Once again, he extended his hand palm-up for you to take, which you reluctantly accepted. To your slight relief, Dell's hands were at least as warm as you remembered. It wasn't much, but you found it comforting.

You were thankful Dell didn't try to rush. Matching your feeble pace and walking close enough beside, you could almost feel his hip pressed against your own. "Is it Spy? Is he still around?" 

Dell snickered, "Nope."

You continued walking by his side for a while without saying anything. Listening to the sound of your own footsteps against the creaking floor, trying to ignore the other noises of the house. The rain pattering against the windows, which rattled in the wind. Even creepier, you couldn't ignore the unidentifiable sounds from below the floorboards, sounding almost like someone moaning in pain. You could've sworn you could hear whispers coming from behind the dark corners, but you knew there was no way anyone else was around. Inner reason told you it was just your mind playing tricks on you, but you couldn't help but whip your head toward the voices to catch someone there, but no one ever was.

If Dell could hear the moans of pain or the hushed voices, he didn't say anything. As you walked, he ran his thumb in soft, slow circles against the back of your hand to try and comfort you. He hummed a little under his breath as though trying to minimize the creepiness of the place.

When you were about to ask how much longer until you found a way out, Dell stopped at another door. Remarkably sturdy looking and well-maintained compared to the shabbiness of the rest of the house. Given how heavy and industrial it appeared, it hardly resembled a door, looking more like the entrance to a bank vault. "This is it. He's right in 'ere. Don't let him scare ya. He's all bark and no bite… Sort of."

You were too tense to ask precisely what he meant by that, giving him a single nod in response, pressing your lips together into a hard line, tightening your grip against his hand. Stealing your resolve with a deep breath, you had no idea what lay in wait behind the door, but you were ready to tackle it head-on if it meant getting out. Pulling a tarnished silver key from his top pocket, Dell unlatched the door, stealing a quick glance your way before pushing the heavy door open. 

You weren't ready to see what was behind that door, let alone confront him. The sight of another Engineer covered in fresh blood, chunks of carnage clinging to his overalls, and cleaning his tools, which were just as drenched in gore as he was, made you lock up with fear. The smell of carnage and motor oil almost made you wretch, and it took all your strength to keep from covering your eyes or screaming. 

Two Engineers at the same base was confusing enough, but seeing one of them drenched in blood off the battlefield made you even more horrified. They both looked so much like Dell, but you knew with a sinking realization neither of these men were the Engie you knew and cared for. The other Engineer looked up at his twin, only then noticing he wasn't alone. "Who the hell is that?"

He shot up from his seat, ready to dart in your direction. Instinctively, you drew your weapon and were prepared to aim at the other Engineer. Your hands shook badly, and you knew you'd miss him if you tried to fire, even at such a close range. 

Before you could even raise the crosshairs to your eye, you felt a heavy hand on your shoulder, pulling you protectively closer to his body, effortlessly yanking you from your weak stance, speaking in a louder but not quite aggressive voice. "Hey, easy there- don't do anything stupid now. We're just here to talk."

You weren't sure if he was talking to you or the other Engineer, but thankfully, he stopped where he was, keeping one hand planted on the gun attached to his belt. "Don't do anything stupid? Maynard! What the hell are you doin' bringin' someone up here!?"

Confusion slowly began to dwarf your fear. Keeping a tight hold on your gun, you lowered it a little more, whispering under your breath, glancing at the man beside you out of the corner of your eye, "Maynard?"

Despite the hostile situation, he grinned and winked, "Charmed to make your acquaintance, partner."

The other Engineer was far less amused. "Maynard, answer me! You got a hell of a lotta explainin' to do, brother!" It was too dark to see his face, as though you could even really see him under the hard hat and glasses, but his voice was more than enough to make you go stunned and silent.

All rational was gone. You could only think about getting out of this awful place. You tried to turn on your heel and break from Maynard's grip, but he was even stronger than he looked, keeping you effortlessly pinned in place.

A pair of bulky arms hugged you from behind, wrapping around your belly, pulling you securely against a chest broader than you remembered Dell's being. You felt the hairs on the back of your neck prickle as you were forced to fully realize how close the stranger was and how far away from safety you were. 

Sure, you were scared before, but Dell was your best friend, and you'd follow him anywhere, but this wasn't Dell, and now you were in the clutches of something much more nefarious than you had expected.

Leaning close to whisper in your ear, you heard the stranger speak, "You weren't runnin' away on me now, were you? You wouldn't leave me all alone in here, would ya, darlin'? And here I thought we were getting along so well." His hug from behind tightened noticeably as he hissed that last part into your ear, crushing the air from your lungs. Your eyes widened, watching the other Engineer stalking closer. He looked so much like Dell, but you knew this wasn't him, the similarities making him all the more terrifying. The other Engineer didn't once take his hand from his gun, but at least he wasn't yelling anymore. "The hell are you doing here? Just who the hell-"

Maynard raised one hand to silence the other Engineer, who complied through grit teeth, and you could only imagine the enraged look on his face under his goggles. 

"Relax, Zed, this one is harmless-"

Zed fumed, "Don't tell me to relax, you lazy bastard! You bring a surprise visitor this deep into the house with a gun pointed at my head! And you want me to relax!?"

You paled, listening to Zed confirm what you'd feared all along. You weren't being led the way out. You were following blindly even deeper into enemy territory, brought all the way into his den without even trying to fight back. You couldn't even call it your old base anymore. Where you stood now was his turf. Any pathetic, fleeting hope of escaping this bizarre place vanished the instant the words left Zed's mouth. Tears of hopelessness stung your eyes, threatening to spill as you heard Maynard's deep, unsettling laughter rumbling behind you. Too scared to move much on your own, you managed to buck forward suddenly, wriggling free as his arm detached from around you, forcing you to support yourself with shaking knees, holding your rifle to your chest with white knuckles, breathing rapidly. 

Maynard took a half-step away and smiled reassuringly before extending a hand your way. In a faux-soothing voice, though with a note of condescension, as though he were speaking to a small child, "You heard the man. Hand it over." 

The mere sight of Zed standing close by, staring you down with complete vitriol, made you hesitate. Your situation was hopeless; anyone could see that trying to hold onto your gun would likely give you more trouble than anything else, but still, you were too scared out of your mind to think clearly. 

Seconds passed like hours as Maynard stared at you with that creepy smile, "Don'tcha want this all over with? Just hand me the gun, buddy. That's all ya gotta do." You looked back between Zed and Maynard like a hunted animal.

"C'mon now, Don't make me take it from you," Maynard warned, sounding a little too excited to enforce his own threat. Swallowing the lump in your throat, with unsteady hands, you complied, turning over your only means of defense to the stranger. Your sniper rifle was more than a gun. It was an extension of yourself, and handing it away felt like a severe betrayal.

Without a second thought, the Texan smiled, accepting your weapon into his own hands, holding the thing carefully in his hands, and seeming to admire the firearm before smashing it into the cement wall beside him. The sound of metal against cement rang out like a gunshot, making you yelp, watching your precious gun get smashed to pieces. 

Maynard took a few more good swings against the wall before dropping the battered rifle to the ground, giving it a steel-toed stomp for good measure, beaming at the sound of metal breaking apart and shattering beneath his foot. 

Maynard looked at Zed with an almost chipper smile, "See, gun's gone now. I told ya that one's harness, didn't I?" Unable to look away, you stared down at your poor gun, not even flinching as Maynard slung an arm around your shoulders, pulling you back into his chest.

Zed appeared unphased by the brutal display, nodding at the sight of the broken weapon, at last moving his hand from his holster, crossing his arms over his chest. "I see. But I wanna know why you brought a hostage all the way up here. I know we got more than enough room in the bunkers-"

Maynard interrupted, squeezing you a little tighter, "Not a hostage. A guest, this one's an old friend of Dell's." Turning his head to face you, uncomfortably close, Maynard asked, "Dell ever mentioned he had brothers to ya before?"

You winced hearing his name. You didn't want to upset your captors more than they were, but you honestly had no idea what was happening, so you shook your head.

Maynard sighed, "Looks like our baby brother didn't spend much time missin' the folks back home. Typical youngest sibling', he thinks just cuz he's the golden child, he can leave the rest of us behind."

You were almost too scared to ask; you just had to know. "Dell is still alive… Isn't he?"

Maynard frowned, "Well, he ain't come our way in a long time. But I know he's out there. He'll be back soon… An' I know you'll be good an' help welcome him home, won'tcha?" While he spoke, his fingers began to drum over your shoulder, playing with the fabric of your shirt between his fingertips. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Zed watching you like a hawk, not moving from his position several paces away, likely still ready to blow your head off at a moment's notice.

Trying your hardest not to let him see how his touch made you shudder, you mumbled, "How long? How much longer till he's back?"

Maynard sighed, shrugging, "Well, tough to say for sure. We've been waitin' on a visit for ages now, but ya never know with him."

Your face fell, and your head dropped forward, not wanting to give Maynard the satisfaction of seeing you cry. Ruffling the top of your head with his gloved hand, he muttered, "Hey now, don't cry, it won't be so bad. We'll keep you nice and safe. I always did like a little company around here."

Maynard looked past you to talk to Zed, "Just give us a few. I'll get 'em settled in and be back to work."

Zed huffed but didn't say anything to stop his brother, allowing him to walk past where he stood to the hallways connecting personal quarters to the den. As he passed the threshold out of the den, Maynard laughed a little to himself, "Yeah, sorry 'bout him. He's always a lil' cranky 'round strangers."

If that was Zed being cranky, you didn't want to know what he looked like when he was really pissed. It wasn't long until Maynard stopped at another doorway at the end of the hall, which creaked harshly when pushed open. 

So this was where he was leading you all along, his bedroom. Somewhere so deep in the heart of the house, you didn't have a prayer of finding your own way out. You let Maynard lead you to his bed. He sat you down on the blanket, drinking in the scared look on your face with great satisfaction. 

"I gotta take care of a few more things, but I want ya to stay here; keep the bed nice and warm for me. I'll be back before ya know it."

You didn't say anything, too disgusted to even look him in the eye, but you could hear him chuckling at your adorable stubbornness, "What's the matter, partner? Got nothing to say?"

Still refusing to look at him, you mumbled. "You were never going to take me home. You lied to me."

Using his human hand, Maynard brushed the side of your cheek with the pad of his thumb, curling his other hand beneath your chin to tilt your head up to look at him.

"I promised to get you outta the workshop. I never promised to take ya home. But hey, it's gonna be ok, darlin', Don'tcha see? You are home now."

Biting your lower lip to keep from sobbing, you could feel your face trembling to keep the tears in, "This can't be real. This has gotta be a dream…"

Maynard leaned down to kiss your head, muttering, "Ya really think this is all some dream, huh? That's cute. Go on and hold onto that hope while ya can. Ya ain't gonna have much hope left after I've had my way with ya."

#i feel like you made the prompt so good and precise i hardly added that much- i loved writing this. literally so much fun- thanks again! #officiallyai #request #x reader #yandere #self ship #tf2 x reader #emesis blue x reader #gender neutral reader #yandere x reader #yandere tf2 #yandere oneshot #yandere self ship #yandere drabble #yandere team fortress 2 x reader #team fortress 2 x reader #amnesia #abduction #tf2 smut #emesis blue maynard #yandere emesis blue #forced intimacy #mdni #emesis blue zed

[luxaofhesperides]

Ghostlights prompt enemies to lovers/opposite sides of a conflict? Depending on how serious the conflict is, it can be fluffy or angsty :)

The lights flicker above his head. Danny swallows roughly, trying to quiet his breathing as much as possible. It would be so much easier if he could just stop breathing completely, to use his powers to disappear from sight, slip around the rest of them and take them all out. 

His palms are sweating. Taking another steadying breath, Danny tightens his grip on the gun, shifting just slightly where he’s crouched, hidden out of sight. 

He can’t hear anything beyond his own rapid heartbeat, but that doesn’t mean he’s safe. The Bats thrive in silence and darkness, and this messy warehouse with its stacked shelving units is full of places for them to hide, waiting for him to cross their sights. 

There’s no one left to help him.

Danny’s on his own. 

No powers, he tells himself firmly. He has to do this as a regular human. The Bats will know otherwise, and he can’t risk it. Just remember what Mom taught you.

The lights flicker again, then go out completely. 

Now! 

Danny springs away from his hiding spot, searching the darkness for any movement. The Bats like to go up high, so he follows suit, sticking close to a wall as he scales his way up a shelving unit. Every moment sounds so loud, like a clap of thunder in the dead of night, and the back of his neck prickles with the feeling of being watched. 

He was never going to out run them. He can’t hide from them. The least he can do is take out as many of them as he can before they shoot him down.

His only saving grace is that Black Bat isn’t here. Last he saw, she was heading down a different street, chasing someone else. As long as he makes his move before she returns, there’s still a chance he can get out of the warehouse and try to escape them again. 

The clouds above Gotham drift apart, allowing the pale moonlight to shine down on the city. Moonlight streams in through the large windows and Danny moves to stay in the shadows, as out of sight as he can manage. He keeps moving, refusing to stay still; if they want to get him, then he’s going to do all he can to make it as difficult as possible. 

The top of the shelving unit is steady. Danny keeps one hand out, close to the wall, as he creeps across it, looking out over the entire warehouse. 

He’s close to the entrance now. All he has to do is drop down and run, and then he’s back out in the streets, no longer trapped in an enclosed space with some Bats. 

Danny reaches the edge of the shelving unit and prepares to jump when he sees a movement in the corner of his eye. Reacting instinctively, he throws himself out into the air, twisting to aim his gun at the flash of purple tucked against the side of a shelf. 

He shoots, one shot after the other, until he lands on the ground in a messy roll. 

Spoiler curses as she ducks away, sending a few return shots of her own, but with her hiding behind the shelf, taking cover. “Just give up!” she shouts at him, “We’ll get you sooner or later!”

“You were supposed to be on my side!” he returns, firing another shot before turning on his heel to sprint away.

“Plans change! Now I have a reason to take you down.”

Which means Black Bat got a hold of Spoiler earlier and got her to change allegiances. It must have been right before he reached the warehouse, still believing Spoiler to be on his side and frantically having to dodge her attacks before they lost each other in the labyrinth of the warehouse. 

So, that’s another person after his head. 

The streets are quiet, a rare treat in Gotham. He’s the only one out, running through the streets like his life depends on it. No doubt Spoiler is right behind him, determined to take him down. He hasn’t seen any of the others for a while, but they have to be somewhere in the area. 

Danny ducks into an alley and scrambles up a fire escape. At least out in the open air, he can pass off a few impossible jumps as being really good at free running. 

He runs, crossing a few streets, and throws himself into a roll, hiding behind an AC unit when he hears more gunshots. 

From the cursing accompanying it, Red Hood must be near.

That’s good. That’s someone who is (presumably) still on his side. 

He follows the noise to the top of a bakery, where he catches a glimpse of a disgruntled looking woman scowling from the window. He offers her a sheepish grin as he climbs by the window, her startled jump turning into rolled eyes as she closes the blinds.  

He gets to the top of the bakery just in time to watch Red Hood pick up Robin and throw him at Nightwing, who drops his gun in order to catch the kid. Taking his chance, Danny crouches on the edge of the roof and aims.

Nightwing falls to the side to avoid it, but he doesn’t manage it in time. Robin takes the hit, still held by Nightwing and unintentionally used as a shield.

“Oops,” Nightwing says as Robin scowls and brings out a shuriken, trying to stab Nightwing in retaliation.

“Nice one, kid,” Red Hood says. He offers Danny a high five, which he happily returns.

The moment lasts for only a second before another shot rings out and Red Hood stumbles forward with a curse, a splatter of yellow paint on his back. 

The Signal swings by, scooping Danny up with an arm around his waist. Red Hood moves to follow, but Nightwing is on him again, their fight beginning again as Robin hops off the roof and disappears from sight.

“Let go!” Danny demands, trying to wiggle out of the Signal’s grip.

“No can do. I’m winning this. My share of Alfred’s cake depends on this.”

Unfortunately for the Signal, Danny’s share of Alfred’s cake also depends on his victory. He’s already got a few points by getting shots in on the other team, small splatters of white paint decorating their costumes, but not as much as the others. He’s also got paint all over him, mostly black and blue, but the game doesn’t end until the Point Person (Danny for his team, Damian for the other) is taken to the other team’s base.

Danny’s team set up their base on the thrift store at the end of their designated game area. He has no idea where Duke’s team has their base, and he doesn’t intend to find out any time soon.

“Sorry,” he says, then shoves a foot between Duke’s legs to slam his heel against a pressure point just below the knee. 

The Signal bites back a pained yell and hits the roof hard. They both go rolling across it, carried by the momentum of his swing. To add insult to injury, Danny gets back to his feet and shoots Duke point blank in the chest, then makes another run for it.

“No you don’t!” he hears Signal yell from behind him, followed by the heavy thud of footsteps. 

Danny jumps, making it onto the next roof, adrenaline rushing through him. He tries to find a way back to his team’s base, but the Signal doesn’t let him past, trapping him in. They dodge paint bullets from each other, moving back and forth as if dancing.

And because Danny has abysmal luck, he trips over his own feet when the Signal lunges at him and he tries to spin away from him. 

“Woah!” 

The Signal drops his gun to catch Danny, pulling him close and steadying him. Danny clutches to the Signal’s arms, his own gun pointed off to the side awkwardly. They end up pressed together, barely any space between their faces. 

They’re frozen there for a moment, staring at each other. This close, Danny can see through the visor of the Signal’s helmet, and Duke’s eyes are just as wide as his. 

“Caught you,” Signal breathes, and Danny’s gaze drops down to his lips. 

He’s sure his own feelings are clear and on display in the moment, but he can’t help it. They may be on opposing teams, but a hero is a hero and being saved by the Signal never fails to make danny’s heart skip a beat. 

He really needs to get his head in the game. He needs to push the Signal away and try to get back to his own team. He needs to win so he can steal Duke’s share of Alfred’s cake. 

The Signal tightens his grip on Danny’s waist and leans in just a little, barely noticeable.

But Danny notices.

Fuck it, he thinks. 

Before he can overthink it, before his nerve get the better of him, before anyone swings by and interrupts, Danny closes the distance between them and kisses Duke. 

It’s just a soft, small peck. He pulls back almost immediately, cheeks flushed red, but doesn’t go far before Duke is kissing him again and again and again.

“Now is not the time, lover birds!” Spoiler shouts. They startle apart, giddy grin on their faces. Danny turns to see her land on the roof with her hands on her hips, waggling her eyebrows suggestively, and knows that neither of them are going to live this down any time soon. Nightwing and Red Hood follow soon after, trying to tackle each other, and almost bowl over Spoiler as Red Robin takes the opportunity to pop up out of nowhere, Black Bat on his tail, to shoot at Spoiler.

With all of them distracted, Danny shares a smile with Duke then darts back in for another kiss. 

Then he pulls back, shoots Signal again, and takes off with a laugh.

The game’s not over yet, but that’s not going to stop him from feeling like a winner anyways.

He is going to get that cake, though. Losing is not an option with Alfred’s baking on the line. Crush or not, Duke is going down.

#ghostlights #dc x dp #dp x dc #dcxdp #dpxdc #dc x dp fic #dp x dc fanfic #prompt fill #my writing #you gave me the option for fluff so thats what i went with >:) #no pain!! only absurd paintball kidnapping games with the bats!!! #team alliances are constantly changing due to bribes and beating each other in fights. no one is trustworthy. alfred's cake is on the line #bruce is taking care of the rest of gotham with babs and kate. ignoring what his kids and danny are doing #hes had enough stress in his life. #babs is recording all of this via drones by she got that kiss in HD #thank you for the prompt!!