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Eat Your Ego, Honey (CH4)
homelander x oc 18+ escort services, sex work, masturbation, voyeurism, stalking, Homelander in general. see ao3 link for detailed tags. chapter index. check out the playlist!
Homelanderâs session was a disaster. Layla sits in the aftermath of it, still collecting herself a good twenty minutes after Homelander has departed. Perched on the couch, she buries her face in her hands and takes several deep breaths. Now that sheâs alone, she can finally process everything that happened. She can feel the furious beat of her heart in her throat, and her legs ache. Shifting sideways, she leans down to slip off the shoes. In doing so, she catches a glimpse of her calves, where she can already see distinct hand-shaped bruises forming. Her stomach flips. Delicately, she traces the outline of blossoming purple along her skin.
Heâs replaced the bruise on her neck that had only just faded.
With a sharp inhale, Layla stands up. She needs to change her clothes, and get herself out of this mindset. Tears well up in her eyes in the wake of her adrenaline fading, burning as she blinks them away. Sheâs hyper-aware of the feel of the bruises as she walks barefoot to her closet, slipping out of her dress with practiced ease. She hangs it up, and reaches for a linen sweater and a soft pair of pants.
Over and over, Layla replays the session in her mind as she dresses, pinpointing the moment everything changed. Sheâs established and enforced boundaries with him before, but never has his response to them been so visceral. Something different happened today, but try as she might, Layla canât figure out what it was. There must have been an internal trigger. âIâm not like lots of people,â he had snarled. âDo you understand that? Iâm a god, and I donât need your fucking pity.â
She had tried to humanize him, to allow him space for this vulnerability, but today sheâs learned that John is so lost to the mantle of Homelander, to the weight of his powers, that he is convinced he is above such things. It doesnât matter that he wept against her. The second it was over, he wanted her to forget it ever happened. Layla canât forget. Looking at the dress now, itâs still spotted wet with his tears. This doesnât feel like a man in love with his delusions. This feels like a man trapped by them. Who told you that you have to be a god? Who wonât let you be a man?
That was the moment Layla knew she needed to see the suit stripped away. The bruises on her legs were unintended, that much she is certain of. It was as if with the flip of a switch, he went from present to wholly gone, not hearing a word she said. When he did come back to himself, he let go of her immediately, and apologized in a voice so small, she barely heard it. He wore his shame clearly, self-hatred wet in his eyes. She remembers bringing him into her arms before she could reconsider. Layla knows herself better than to think of that act of comfort as an entirely altruistic one. The truth of the matter is that she enjoys both his vulnerability and his unpredictability. More and more, taming a man like Homelander is proving to be a power trip like none other. One moment heâs utterly wrapped around her finger, and the next itâs as though sheâs freefalling.
Homelander is rekindling a fire in Layla that she thought long since safely fed and satiated by her line of work, and she can't bring herself to smother the embers. Distantly, the logical side of her brain screams at her that this is madness. The dull ache in her calves calls for a restraining order, not a date. Homelander is a literal walking red flag; he wears it proudly as a cape. Yet Laylaâs mind is left buzzing, drowning out that shrill cry of reason.
Lying down on the couch, she wonders what heâll wear instead of the suit.
Layla spends most of the following week talking herself in and out of the date. Up until this point, she hasnât needed to consider the scope of John as a whole, or her actual compatibility with him. He was a client, and all that mattered was that she treated him as such. Whoever they were in the world outside of that relationship didnât matter. Suddenly, it could very much matter. He isnât just John, heâs Americaâs Homelander. Her grandmother must be rolling in her urn. They were never a particularly patriotic family, to put it lightly. She calls Jason, whoâs no help at all.
âIf you want to go, then go. If you donât want to go, donât go.â He doesnât know what to do with her mix of exasperation and stubbornness any more than she does. She knew even as she was speaking to him that she was being irrational. She feels like sheâs going insane over the whole situation. A significant part of her agony is knowing that if she could just tell Jason who it was, the details of their relationship, or if he could see the faded bruises on her legs, sheâs certain that he would tell her no, absolutely not. What she cannot figure out about herself is why sheâs looking for someone else to tell her âno.â Sheâs lived her entire life on her own terms, but thereâs something about Homelander that makes her question her capacity to make rational decisions. Heâs enthralling even in her thoughts, and heâs slipping into her fantasies more and more each night.
Every time she convinces herself itâs a terrible idea spurred on by mindless infatuation, Layla picks up her phone. Every single time, she hesitates, and ultimately sets it back down. Tomorrow, she tells herself. Iâll sleep on it, and Iâll know by tomorrow. Soon enough, too many tomorrows have come and gone. Itâs Friday evening, and Layla is in the back of a polished black car sent to her apartment. Sheâs out of time, and on her way to Vought International. Itâs a chilly night, so sheâs opted for a coat and pantyhose, but otherwise sheâs dressed precisely the way Homelander last saw her. She drums her fingers on her thighs, once more wondering if and how heâll uphold his end of the bargain. Layla leans closer to the window, peering up at Vought Tower. The top of the tower disappears into the haze of the night sky, too tall for her to see. Sheâs always considered all one hundred floors of the tower to be something of an eyesore, an out of place advertisement thrust into the skyline of the city. But up close she can at least admit itâs an impressive feat of architecture. Ugly all the same, but impressive.
The car pulls around a side road that curves into a courtyard, stopping at a security check. The headquarters of a multibillion dollar corporation hardly screamed date night romance, but John had been insistent it would offer them a spectacular view, and the privacy he required in order to meet her demands. He assured her that the food would be good, promising the best steak that New York has to offer. Once they make it through security, the drive up the courtyard is slow. The pace allows her to admire what little greenery they have tucked behind the building, which is admittedly more than she expected. The finely trimmed hedges and manicured flower beds are unfortunately broken up by gaudy bronze statues of Voughtâs golden age heroes: imposing metallic faces with meticulously carved eyes that seem to follow her as she passes them, lit only by the harsh white spotlights below them. It gives the whole place an eerie, artificial atmosphere, particularly in the dark of the evening. It feels more like a graveyard than a garden.
However, much of that falls away when the car pulls up to the private entrance, and Layla sees a sleek silhouette cut out against the fluorescent hall lights. There stands Homelander not in his star-spangled usual, but in a well fitted suit. At first she thinks it black, but as he approaches the vehicle the light catches it in such a way that she realizes itâs a deep navy with black accents. The black bowtie at his neck reminds her of old Hollywood, a look that would have given even Cary Grant a run for his money. Iâll be damned, she thinks, smiling broadly. The car door swings open, and Homelander extends a rare ungloved hand to her. Slipping her hand into his, she allows him to effortlessly draw her up out of the vehicle. Though Homelander returns her smile, she can see the tension at the corners of his mouth. It reminds her of the tight way heâs been smiling for the cameras for the last several weeks, and not at all of their usual comfortable exchanges during sessions.
âYou look very handsome,â she tells him, reaching up to smooth her fingers along one of the lapels of his jacket. Heâs a good deal more slender than the supe suit makes him appear. His shoulders are less broad without the protruding pauldrons. His torso is ridiculously bulging. Still, he is by no means a slight man. Truth be told, she finds the figure he cuts in a formal suit far more appealing. His hair is also styled more softly, looser, as if no longer needing to compensate for the bulk of the suit. Where normally she would expect him to preen under the compliment, Homelander rolls his shoulders subtly, clearing his throat. She wonders how long itâs been since anyone new (or anyone at all) saw him in anything other than his Homelander suit.
He gives her hand a subtle squeeze, and suit or no suit, there is no doubt that the power that thrums in his body is wholly his. âThank you,â he says, closing the car door behind her. He signals the driver off with a flick of his wrist. âAnd you look⊠radiant,â he says, regaining some of his usual composure once heâs able to shift the focus onto her. His smile thins slyly as he draws her nearer. âLooks like Iâll have to warm you up again,â he said, giving her jacket a playful little tug. âSurely it wonât be as cold inside,â Layla responds, glancing over to the double doorway. âWe wonât be eating inside tonight. Still, you wonât be needing it,â he responds, slipping a hand beneath her coat, settling it on her hip. Even against the night air, the press of his hand is warm as ever. The heat of him seeping through the fabric of her dress.
Layla looks up at him, expression pinching incredulously. âItâs freezing out.â âRelax,â he purrs, closing the slight gap between them with a small step. âYou trust me?â She hums with a purse of her lips, wrinkling her nose at him. âTentatively. The ice is thin.â Homelanderâs smile broadens. âGood enough for me.â With that, he scoops Layla up into his arms, startling a soft noise from her. Before she can ask what would necessitate him carrying her to dinner, her stomach flips the way it does when going down a hill in a car; a sudden shift in her gravity. Looking down, she sees the pavement she was just standing on, growing more and more distant, along with the flowerbeds and statues. Inhaling sharply, Layla grabs a tight hold of his jacket, the other arm curling around his neck. Her heart leaps in her chest, pumping a surge of adrenaline through her as the ground grows more distant, and the sickly thrill of danger climbs higher. âW-wait, hold onââ
âRelax,â Homelander says again, a laugh bubbling up beneath it. âIâm not gonna drop you, alright? Iâm a professional. Just breathe,â he tells her, which sheâs sure is easy for him to say. The higher they climb, the more the world below them looks surreal, like the most realistic toy city sheâs ever seen. âNot long to floor eighty-eight.â âEighty-eight?â Layla echoes incredulously, her heart skipping a beat. âLook at me,â Homelander murmurs, his voice warm in her ear. She turns sharper than she means to, staring up at him with wide eyes. Once again, unbalancing her helps him recover much of his confidence. He may not have a suit to scream superhero! but flying her to the top of a one hundred storey building is certainly one way to do it. âAtta girl, see? Safer than a plane,â he says, throwing in a little wink. He chuckles at that, and she feels as though heâs making another one of those jokes sheâs not privy to.
âI would have been just as impressed if you had carried me up a hundred flights of stairs instead, you know,â Layla says, flexing her grip around his neck, her stomach flipping wildly. The ground is still fading away, and when she chances a glance up, she sees they still have a long way to go. Homelander is moving slowly enough that the breeze is gentle, but the air is only growing colder and thinner as they climb. Homelander scoffs a little laugh. âI donât believe that.â Taking in a slow breath, Layla looks out across the city. While it had been dark on the ground, from here she can see the remnants of the sunset creeping across the edges of the horizon. Above the haze and light pollution, she can even make out stars twinkling in the night sky. Not even her high rise apartment allowed her enough altitude to stargaze in the city. Itâs beautiful. A tapestry of rich blues and purples dotted with constellations stretching in every direction. She canât remember the last time she really saw the sky.
âOkay,â she relents, resting her head on his chest, gaze lazily flitting over the star-dusted sky. âMaybe not as impressed.â He hums at that, his own stare focused solely on her, smirking his satisfaction. Layla looks up at him, and the way he waggles his brows at her makes her laugh. âBut you donât need to look so pleased with yourself,â she says, tentatively releasing her grip on his jacket to poke the corner of his mouth, where that smirk of his sits proud. âIâm drifting freely above the finest city in the greatest country in the world, holding a beautiful woman in my arms. Whatâs not to be pleased about?â Homelander counters, leaning into her touch. Layla opens her palm to allow for the way he pushes into it, turning a playful little gesture into something more intimate, her hand cupped to the side of his face. His words would make her roll her eyes if he didnât speak them with such earnestness. There is so much about him that would fall flatter than roadkill on paper, if it wasnât for the specific kind of charisma he carries. It has captured her more than she cares to admit. When she expects to hear irony in his voice, oftentimes she is met with a sincerity that she rarely sees in men of his age and status.
The air has grown thin. Layla feels light and fuzzy in this moment, warm in his arms despite the chill of the night. Their breaths mingle visibly in the cold. The impulse to kiss him strikes her, and she follows it without a thought, her thumb stroking his cheek. The edges of his smirk soften against her lips as he kisses her back slowly, unhurried, but with no less passion. Just the way she taught him. What she had initially intended to be a brief press of her lips stretches into coaxing movements, deepening with each passing second. Layla pushes her hand up into his hair, cupping the back of his head, encouraging him with a pleased little noise. Homelanderâs hand tightens at her waist, under her legs. Despite the fact heâs currently flying her nearly a hundred feet directly into the air, the eager way he follows her lead as she kisses him gives her a sense of control over him that eases the drumming of her heart.
Layla falls so deeply into the kiss that she nearly misses the gentle jostle of their landing. When she opens her eyes, sheâs met with a row of hanging lights, dangling prettily from a white fabric tent set up over a patio. Itâs upheld by sturdy wooden beams, with a single dining table between them. Truth be told, itâs far from what Layla had expected. The singular square table is rather small, making for a much more intimate setting than she had anticipated. âItâs warm,â she says, more thinking aloud than speaking to Homelander, who hums approvingly. âState of the art outdoor conditioning. Four regulators, one in each corner. They circulate warm air, and keep the cold out. Something about creating pressure,â he says dismissively, setting Layla down on her feet. Placing his hands on her shoulders and giving a slight squeeze, he asks slyly, âMay I take your coat?â
Smiling over her shoulder at him, Layla lifts her hands to unbutton her jacket, allowing him to slide it off her arms. She feels the tips of his fingers graze her bare arms, his own hands pleasantly ungloved. âThank you,â she says, watching him fold the garment over his forearm. He offers her his other arm, and she takes it for the walk to the table. âYouâre quite the romantic, arenât you?â She asks, taking note of the bouquet of roses set at the table, and the smattering of tealights lit all around it. Instead of being set across the table from each other, the chairs were set opposite one another at the same corner. Homelander looks pleased at that, following her eye to the table setting. âAhh, well, maybe a little.â In addition to the flowers, there are two dishes sitting under silver cloches, though only one of the two is paired with a glass of red wine, the bottle not far away. She sits down, and Homelander drapes her coat on the back of her chair, sliding it in under her. He moves to take the seat next to her, unbuttoning the bottom of his jacket as he sits.
âHope itâs all to your liking. Prepared fresh from the kitchens,â he says, reaching out to the silver cloche set over her plate. Lifting it off, he reveals a gorgeously plated beef filet. Itâs sat atop potato puree and asparagus, with what looks to be roasted fennel on top. Layla can smell the butter and thyme immediately. She smiles, closing her eyes as she inhales it. âSmells incredible,â she says, unfolding the cloth napkin to place on her lap. She had assumed as much when he had inquired about her preference between well done, medium and rare, but this was an admittedly more delicate presentation than she expected. âYou donât drink?â She asks, reaching for the wine glass next to her plate. âNo, no. Not for me. Never really acquired the taste for it. Plus, it, uhh, doesnât do much for me. Iâd have to drink the whole winery for a good buzz,â Homelander explains, absently rubbing his hands up and down his thighs. When was the last time he wore a pair of pants that werenât made of padded material with an NIJ protection level? âTouchĂ©,â Layla responds, bringing the glass to her lips. She inhales first, and then takes a sip. Itâs delicious, rich and subtly fruity, but not enough to overpower the meal. Glancing at the bottle, she recognizes the label: itâs a vintage Saint Ămilion, easily worth a couple hundred dollars. She gives an approving hum. âMore for me, I suppose,â she says playfully, setting the glass down. âAll yours,â he agrees. His smile is gradually becoming less tight, though his posture is not. Heâs sitting straight with his hands on his thighs, nervous in a way she hasnât seen him before. âNot trying to get me drunk, are you?â She asks, quirking her brow.
He huffs a laugh, leaning back in his chair, seemingly eased by the banter. âYou an easy drunk?â âNot in the least. Itâll take more than one bottle,â she shoots back, smiling as she takes a sip. âWell, thereâs plenty more where that came from,â he says, interlacing his hands in his lap.Â
âCareful, I can become quite an expensive date,â she says slyly, cutting herself a bite of the filet. Clearly he was one to splurge. âAnd an even more expensive fuck,â Homelander adds without missing a beat, his tone a touch lower. The two of them sit in a dense silence while Layla chews her bite, taken aback. Homelander takes in her expression, and as he does, she can see the gears turning in his head. Some of that tension creeps back into the line of his shoulders as he realizes he may have spoken something that should have been kept a thought. He sits up straight. âWhich⊠is to sayââ he begins, trying to recover, but stops himself when Layla starts to laugh. âItâs okay,â she says, finishing her glass in a final sip. âYouâre right. Iâm a very expensive fuck,â she says, licking her lips. His gaze drops to her lips, following the movement with the precision of a stalking predator. He swallows visibly, eventually smiling in return. âThatâs the lifestyle I chose for myself. Youâre doing well in keeping up,â she says, giving her empty glass a pointed little tap. He takes the hint and picks up the bottle to refill her glass. âWhy did you choose it?â He asks, setting the bottle back down. âYour lifestyle. Your⊠occupation.â
An inevitable question, but one that remains no less complicated to answer, regardless of how many times it comes up.
Layla gives a contemplative hum. âIâm good at it,â she says, absently running her fingers up and down the stem of her glass. âBetter than I ever was in an office. Happier, too. I work when I want, I charge what I want, and I love who I want.â Homelander makes a skeptical little noise. âYou donât love those other guys, though.â Other guys. Heâs specific about that, she notes. She decides not to address it for now, nor the fact that not all of her clients are even âguys.â Layla takes a slow breath, and then a sip of her drink, formulating her answer. âI started escorting because I knew I would meet people like me. People who felt incapable of finding intimate connection the way everyone around them did.â She may not be drunk, but the wine has certainly helped loosen her lips. âI have total control of who can enjoy my time, my affection, for how long, and in exchange they show me the parts of themselves they donât want the world to see. There is true intimacy in that.â She tilts her head slightly, gauging his response. He, after all, is one such person. His posture has changed completely: heâs leaning in now, with his forearm braced on the table. She continues, âJust because itâs paid for doesnât mean it isnât real. I build relationships with the people I want to build relationships with.â âDonât you think thatâs dangerous?â He asks, a lilt to his voice that Layla has difficulty parsing. âSelling people on the idea that you really do love them?â âI donât say these things to my clients. Youâre my date,â she counters, taking a bite of her meal. He straightens up slightly at that, as if heâs been praised. âBut no, I donât. I do my job, and I do it well. I take precautions.â
âPrecautions,â Homelander echoes. âBecause itâs dangerous.â âYouâre not going to tell me anything about my profession I donât already know,â she says, amused. âIâve been doing this for years.â âWhat do your parents think of it?â Layla considers him a moment. âThey died when I was young,â she says. No sense in dragging that out any more than it needs to be. âMy grandparents raised me, but they passed, oh⊠About eleven years ago.â
âHow did they die?â He asks immediately, brows slightly furrowed.
She could almost laugh. While on the one hand itâs a tactless approach, itâs also refreshing. Oftentimes, that answer means a handful of empty condolences for a bunch of people the person never knew, people who died decades ago, and Layla comforting them through the discomfort associated with death and grief. Homelander didnât even blink.
âMy grandparents passed peacefully within a year of each other,â she says, swirling her wine. âShe went first, and I think he just⊠didnât want to be here without her,â she says, pursing her lips slightly. âMy parents, on the other hand, they had aâletâs say it was a flare for the dramatic,â she says, her smile turning a little wry. âThey were junkies.â Homelanderâs brows lift. âDrugs?â âNo, no. They were addicts, but it wasnât for drugs. They were adrenaline junkies. Itâs how they met. Skydiving,â she says, finishing off her second glass. This time, Homelander refills it without prompt. The gesture makes her smile, and she tips her glass in thanks. âThey slowed down for a bit after they had me, but not for long. Eventually they started performing for crowds. You know, stunts. Motorcycles, jumps, demolition derbies. Whatever thrilled them.â âSo, what⊠Blew up in a freak accident?â He asks, shifting to rest his hand on his thigh. This time, Layla does laugh. Thereâs something liberating about his irreverence. Heâs not treating the subject with the kid gloves that everyone else does, and itâs clear he doesnât expect her to, either. âMore or less. They planned this⊠insane jump. Fitted my dadâs Pontiac with a homemade rocket. They were supposed to clear a jump over a building set for demolition, but the rocket malfunctioned. It didnât engage until they were nearly off the ramp, and ended up just⊠flying them straight into the side of the building.â Looking over at Homelander, Layla cocks her head. She half expects him to laugh, crack a joke or make some reference, but heâs just watching her. She sips her drink. âYou tell that story pretty straight,â he says at last. She gives a small shrug. âItâs been a long time.â He nods, tapping his middle finger on the table. âReal Thelma and Louise of them.â There it is, Layla muses. âI never knew two people more in love than my parents. They were happiest when they were risking their lives together. Canât think of a more fitting way for two people to go out,â she says, and though she means it, even she can hear the emptiness sinking into the tone of her voice. She takes a long final drink from her wine, setting the empty glass aside. âHow old were you?â He asks. He moves to refill her glass, but she lifts a hand to stop him, shaking her head subtly. He sets the bottle back down. âTwelve.â She chooses not to elaborate, despite the flood of memories that come with the answer. Homelander hums. âReally took after âem, huh?â Layla blinks, immediately disarmed. âIâexcuse me?â
He looks surprised by her surprise. âI mean⊠Câmon. Sure, youâre not strapping rockets to your car or throwing yourself out of planes, but youâre not working a desk job, either. You said it yourself. Iâm not telling you anything you donât already know,â he says, echoing her word for word. âYou work a dangerous job, and you like it.â She can say with confidence that the last thing she expected to happen tonight was for him to start psychoanalyzing her. She huffs an incredulous little laugh, suddenly wishing she hadnât stopped him from refilling her glass.
âThatâs not the same thing,â she dismisses, smiling despite the nagging unease it dredges up somewhere in the back of her mind. âBesides, youâre hardly one to talk about occupational hazards. What made you choose to become a hero?â Itâs not her most skillful conversational redirect, but sheâs also three glasses deep in a very good wine. âI didnât,â he answers plainly, his demeanor shifting alongside the direction of the conversation. Laylaâs smile falters. âWhat?â âI didnât choose it,â he says, voice duller yet. âIt was chosen for me. I mean, câmon. What else was I gonna be? A desk jockey? Hahah, nope.â He sucks a pitchy noise through his teeth. âLike Jesus on the cross⊠It was written in stone,â he says, tapping his fingers on a roll atop the table. âBut do you like it?â She leans towards him, brows pinched. âBeing a hero. Do you like it?â He pulls a strange face, looking as if no oneâs ever asked him that before. He clears his throat, visibly uncomfortable with the direction her question threatens to take them. âWhatâs not to like? America loves me.â The words sound stale from his mouth. Layla canât fault him for them, though. Sheâs seen glimpses of how important Homelander is to Johnâs identity, seen firsthand the way praise and adoration can undo him behind closed doors. It comes as no surprise that itâs something he needs to believe. It makes something in her ache for him. Layla shifts closer yet, and gently settles her hand atop his on the table, bringing the percussive tapping of his fingers to a halt. He looks at her sharply, though the set of his gaze softens. His eyes look wider, more vulnerable. Perhaps he forgot he was without his gloves, or he just wasnât expecting the contact. Either way, it brings him back to her. She squeezes his hand. âItâs okay,â she says, her thumb stroking back and forth. âItâs okay. Itâs just us. You donât need to do that.â You donât need to pretend. Homelander now wears the kind of surprise Layla might expect to see if sheâd slapped him. He stares with his lips parted, a thought half-formed on them. He lifts his other hand over hers, fingertips brushing along the back of her hand, skating up to her wrist, light as a feather as he holds her gaze. Then next thing Layla knows, his grip on her wrist tightens and heâs pulling her body up against his. With a gentle effortlessness that only his strength could allow for, he brings them both to their feet, his other hand moving to the small of her back. The sudden rise is disorienting, but the kiss is so warm and fervent that she canât help the little moan that escapes her. He takes the opportunity to slip his tongue between her lips, letting go of her wrist in favor of cupping both sides of her face. He always kisses her with such urgency, holding tight, like she may disappear if he doesnât.
It feels incredible to match his pace, to kiss him as hungrily as he kisses her without the nagging call to slow him down, to maintain his expectations. She falls into it without reserve, free of the rigid pretense of their sessions. She canât blame it on the wine, sheâs been thinking about this for weeks. He pushes his hands further back into her hair, still kissing her like he expects her to stop him at any second, desperate to taste what he can before itâs gone.Â
He moves against her with such a force, it causes her back to arch, head tipping all the way back. He takes one hand from her hair to slip around her waist instead, bringing her body back against his. She puts her own hands on his shoulders, gripping him tight and pulling him in turn. He makes sweet, starved noises against her lips when she slips her hand up into his hair, cupping the back of his head. Homelander is the first to pull away, though he doesnât go far. He kisses the corner of her mouth, her jaw, down the line of her throat. He moves his hands to her hips to hold her steady while he takes full advantage of the plunging neckline of the dress he chose for her. âCome home with me,â he says between kisses, voice thin, ravenous. Her heart skips a beat. Say no. âYes.â Chapter Five.
#homelander x oc#homelander fanfiction#eat your ego#my writing#absolutely busted my ass to finally finish this!!!#the good news is that ch5 is already half done and i'll be posting that at the end of the week#i know my ask box is busted right now lol i'm gonna try to get to that this week too#but i really wanted to get some wips done and writing has been h a r d lately#so apologies all around
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should've just let Vil be the one to fly, it would've gone SO much easier. đ
also HEY how are everyone else's pulls going, because I have had the most RIDICULOUS luck, seriously, halloween magic is 100% real
#art#twisted wonderland#twisted wonderland spoilers#lost in the book with nightmare before christmas#hajimari no halloween#kicking around some ideas for scully's UM poster so i'll talk about all that when we get to it#in the meantime i just have to show this off because...seriously look at it#is the halloween pickup count cumulative?! because i only did two ten-pulls for jamil...#i've only done three ten-pulls total in this event and yet somehow ended up with leona and two consecutive jamils#now it would be extremely funny if i didn't get sebek when he's the one i want the most...but let me hope#(i choose to believe this is an apology from the universe for my lack of both fairy gala ortho and masquerade malleus)#(thank you universe)#anyway i realize there is some irony in bragging about my jamil pulls and yet drawing vil instead#but...i just really wanted to draw nightmare vil okay#i thought i had posted art of good ol' pumpkin-stroker jamil already but i think i might actually have just dreamt that#brb gotta get onto fixing this problem
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pick your battles
#my art#my stuff#art#comic#original art#pride 2024#pride month#trans allegory..... or not even allegory. just trans .... ^_^#i technically cannot come out yet but i don't think the people who i need to not see this stalk my tumblr#i know they stalk everything else like my twitter and my instagram but this might be safe#so fuck it we yap. this is a comic about picking your battles#this is a comic about how for almost a year now everyone at home in singapore has been crying about my sore throat#my terrible fucked up voice. my you know. etc#i came out as not cis and using they/them pronouns in 2015 when i was 14#but no one ever used my pronouns. none of my classmates or friends even up until i left for college in 2020#from 2020 onwards every year i wrote an angry vulnreable essay about how much it hurts that they dont remember#and people would dm me apologizing on their hands and knees and commending my bravery#and then forget about it all over again. id ont mean 'they misgender me and then catch it and apologize and correct themselves'#i mean they dont even get that far#and so you might ask yourself: why have you kept them around all this time?#and i would have to explain that by pure bad luck i grew up in the most conservative close minded community#that all of my ex classmates that stayed in singapore are cishet and upper middle class and chinese singaporean#that i Am the trans person. that they were able to ignore me for a decade partially because there was no one else#so this is a comic about how there is dignity and grace in staying in the closet sometimes#about how not everyone deserves to see you at your happiest. about how some people can go fuck themselves#you know your truth and THATS THE ONLY THING THAT MATTERS!!! YEAH!!! i love you
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gonna be real here boss when it comes to the ancestral hall scene i am 100% on jiang cheng's side
#mdzs#jiang cheng#jc apologism#yanyan speaks#king that is his house. you are in his house. you left and you did not come back so that is not your house anymore.#you don't get to walk around like you own the place because you actively chose to give that up#also king you hit first....jc was being an ass but you were the one who escalated a verbal confrontation into a physical one#also these are all thoughts i had on my very first readthrough before i became a jc stan#i only became a jc stan at the guanyin temple scene#mo dao zu shi
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Also have another âfirst words spoken to you are on your skinâ soulmate AU idea where Kara is a journalist assigned to shadow the controversial CEO of L-Corp for the day. Itâs a big deal for her to get this assignment, so of course she trips the second sheâs near the other woman and tries awkwardly to redeem herself.
The CEO stares at her almost in shock, and then says nothing. At all. Ever, for the entire day.
Kara spends hours following Lena Luthor around trying to fill the silence, but no amount of questions get her to talk. Lena almost seems to be running away at some points - like sheâs trying to lose her? - and the few times sheâs managed to catch her actually talking to someone she goes silent the second she sees Kara.
She asks around if Miss Luthor is usually like this and everyone looks at her like sheâs crazy. Apparently sheâs the only one who gets the silent treatment. By the end of her first day shadowing sheâs walking away with half a page of observations and not a single quote. Miss Grant is going to kill her.
But thatâs okay. Itâs fine, this isnât over. She has four days of shadowing ahead of her and sheâll be damned if she doesnât finish this with a quote from the woman herself. Itâs only a matter of time.
#what if you were an over stressed billionaire who feels like your existence must be a constant apology for the sins of your family#and youâre about to be followed around and studied by some no named baby reporter sent from a fashion magazine#youâre battling the migraine of a century you have five crises to settle all at once and also that baby reporter just said your words#the ones youâve carried for the last decade - the ones youâve feared and hoped for ever since#and itâs wonderful probably - this is what people dream of - but the problem is you just donât have time for this#you canât have your big soulmate moment#not right now. definitely not with this reporter. itâs not the right time#so I guess those words will just have to wait until it is time#if you can someone manage to resist. itâll be hard#she does seem like someone itâd be really easy to talk to after all#good luck to you both#soulmate AU#Supercorp#fun shenanigan that I shanât be writing#mine
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Dubai trio + text posts
#gonna go ahead and apologize for the second oneâŠ#anyway i cannot stop thinking about these three#so excited and scared to see whatâs gonna happen next week#especially bc we still havenât seen that one scene of the room exploding around daniel#need to know what thatâs all about#interview with the vampire#louis de pointe du lac#armand#daniel molloy#danlou#devilâs minion#iwtv spoilers#text post meme
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To the next adventure...
Image description and details under cut
I.D.
[A drawing of Nicky, Joe, Quynh, and Andy from The Old Guard. They are all in profile, walking in a straight line facing the sun. They are dressed in medieval clothing and armour, and each carry their own weapons and bags. Nicky has his sword, a crossbow, a quiver of bolts, a dagger at his belt and another strapped to his ankle. Joe is holding his sword, a bag, and a coin purse. Quynh's bow is over her back, and her quiver is at her hip. Two daggers are strapped to her belt, one of them matching Nicky's. Andy is holding her axe, two bags, and a dagger. They each have serene expressions and closed eyes, as if they're not in a hurry. In the background, the seasons change from winter to spring, summer, fall. There is an old tree behind them, and its branches change with the seasons.]
#tog#the old guard#nicolo di genova#yusuf al kaysani#quynh#andromache of scythia#the old gays#siggy draws#FINALLY. this took... 3 months altogether? FUCK i miss these four.#apologies if my image description is super long. i really enjoy drawing all these tiny details...#director's commentary as usual:#when i draw stuff like this it's usually because i'm working on a big fic. and i am. but also it is taking me over a year so far#because i'm finishing my undergrad. but i do plan to finish the fic!#regardless they could be walking anywhere.#tried to keep it sometime around the 14th century. i always try to put them in clothes that reflect their personalities -#- and places of origin more or less.#andromache's mail is old af and not in good shape. only she and nicolo have spurs so i guess they would be the riders if they had horses#but i am not about to attempt to draw a horse lol#details i like: nicky's little hat to protect his hair from his chainmail. his and quynh's matching daggers. yusuf's fancy-boy armour.#quynh's leg wraps and her jerkin. and andy's super old chainmail and her whip braids <3#where are they going? where did they come from? it's up to ye.
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ive been thinking about taco and balloon forming a little alliance post s1/ pre s2 where they'd (begrudgingly) work together planning on how to break into hotel OJ to steal stuff to take back to their makeshift camp like food, blankets, pillows, etc,,, anything that could be useful to them
#UGH TUMBLR DIDN'T SAVE MY DRAFT R U KIDDING ME WROTE A TON#ok let me go over this again as i remember#balloon ends up encountering tacos makeshift camp wandering in the woods#i like to think balloon makes close to zero noise when he walks around#kinda floats around if u will#taco figures she could use this to get balloon to sneak into hotel oj to get her stuff#well. she tells balloon its âfor the benefit of bothâ#balloon and taco parallel eachother in so much#both of them put up a âmaskâ as a strategy to further into the game which lead to both of them losing all of their relationships after s1#although both of them eventually ended up feeling guilty for what they did it took taco much longer#i think their alliance worked decently well for a while but balloons guilt and need to apologize is what drove them apart#by the time of that one scene s2 ep7 where balloon goes up to apologize and has his conversation with oj they'd already drifted apart#i think I'll doodle some more stuff with them eventually im still waiting to my charger to come in the maaaailllll#all of this has probably already been pointed out but im having fun and they've been on my mind a lot lately#so#shrugs#im screaming into the void#ii taco#ii balloon#inanimate insanity
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mmmmmm read a disciple shen yuan/shizun luo binghe fanfic about two days ago where the first chapter was the Immortal Conference arc, and SQQ was the one who had to be pushed into the abyss (he was still the villain) except Luo Binghe was refusing and was like, lowkey losing his mind about SQQ being so close to the edge. SQQ ended up having to be the one to fall in himself because of the system's punishment system. The rest of the fic is leading up to that moment. But like, MMM i've been obsessively thinking about that first chapter for DAYS ever since.
now i've been in svsss for a grand total of *checks watch* a week. but god obsessed with that. I want to write/read a fic where disciple SQQ goes a little nuts down there. Like keep all of the things that make SQQ, SQQ, but just. Throw in a little bit more trauma in there. A little bit of a mental break. Let him go a little nuts as a treat. Just a tad unhinged. I wanna see him go, just a little, "god fuck it, i've tried so hard to change this shitty story's outcome and it feels like everything i've done has been for nothing. I'm going to die in this world no matter what I do, I've been doomed from the start, so might as well die the way I want to." and he just, breaks a little! Under all the stress.
He still retains the traits that makes shen yuan, shen yuan, like his overwhelming kindness. But he's just! yk. A little less patient. Paranoid. Jumpy. Colder. A little more aloof and closed off. A little more Shen Jiu. He's no asshole child abuser, but he was a Number One Hater in his past life and he's leaning into that old habit a little more now.
(On a totally coincidental not-at-all related note, there's not enough SJ-and-SY-are-the-same-people fics out there that i've found. This is totally unrelated...)
The Endless Abyss turns the mind into an over-sharpened blade, and SQQ is both fascinated and perhaps a little excited to explore a place that doesn't have a lot of info on it in the mortal realm, but still terrified out of his mind. And he's no Luo Binghe, he doesn't have the sheer brute strength and power to just bulldoze his way through, so he has to be a lot more sneaky and cunning if he wants to survive.
The fic itself role-swapped LBH and SQQ so that SQQ was the half-demon (which lowkey fucks) and LBH the human, but I'm equally-if-not-more obsessed with the idea that LBH remains the half-heavenly demon and SQQ the human. If only because I keep thinking about SQQ befriending some demons (particularly and specifically a group of succubi) and they grow very attached to this Human Cultivator so through magic plot stuff they create some kind of seal/illusion/talisman that makes SQQ appear as a demon because a human cultivator in the endless abyss may as well be the equivalent of putting a giant neon target on your back.
And iirc Shen Jiu was taught demonic cultivation by that one guy(?? i've only been here a week so im not caught up in ALL of the lore yet) so that could totally happen here.
(On the other end of the realms, poor Shizun Luo Binghe is just. losing his fucking mind over losing his most precious and beloved disciple. About .5 seconds from burning down the peaks himself. somebody sedate him.)
The Endless Abyss sucks and SQQ is having a really terrible time and can feel himself going lowkey mad, but also holy shit look at all this WORLD-BUILDING. look at all this flora and fauna, and oh if he had the equipment for it he'd be writing all of this down. ALL OF IT. He was kinda-sorta-already planning on never leaving the Abyss as some sort of fucked up self-exile and self-preservation thing, but now he might? actually just?? never leave if he can help it, like he lowkey likes it down here.
anyways the next time anyone ever sees SQQ again he's got hair so long its almost touching the ground and he's either in rags and half-feral or he's been completely dolled up by his adoptive succubi sisters and still about three seconds from biting anyone who tries to touch him. (he's also lowkey trying to book it back down to the abyss even if he has desperately missed all of his friends and shizun)
#mxtx svsss#svsss au#scum villian self saving system#shen qingqiu#shen yuan#luo binghe#disciple shen yuan#scum villain#svsss#*points at SQQ/SY* i want him to go nuts. as a treat. let him crumble just a little over the stress of his fate and the stress of survival#and the stress of having a lack of autonomy over a handful of his decisions. starry craves angst and she craves a very specific SQQ angst#he was a number 1 hater back in the day and lbr being a hater takes energyyyy. ive heard that this man was the BIGGEST hater i wanna#see him rip a man to shreds with nothing but his tongue and a voice that could cut marble clean in half. skin a man alive sqq you deserve i#*mortal kombat voice* FINISH HIM#i love without-a-cure but unfortunately i dont think SQQ would be able to have WAC and also survive in the abyss.#the succubi nest that adopted him tried seducing him at first. it didn't work. but he did somehow charm them with his cringefail ways#so now they have a brand new mortal big/little brother to dote on. SQQ is frankly delighted to learn all about succubi culture that doesnt#revolve around sex. he makes quite a few friends/allies in the abyss because of his pure fascination and unbiased desire to learn about#demonic culture and all the different niches and nuances of it across species. he's still going insane tho. like that's not stopping.#there's a single LBH pov chapter in the fic and its frankly so unhinged it was fantastic. he's so possessive. he straight up goes:#'oh SQQ isnt gonna be the next peak lord. he's ascending to heaven with me when i do :)' when Sha Hualing (also peak lord) told him that he#couldn't keep his disciple in the bamboo house all the time. what was SQQ gonna do when LBH ascends and he becomes the new peak lord?#gosh that first chapter is rotating around in my mind so bad. LBH was SO unwell. like losing his actual shit over SQQ near the edge.#i so want to write a oneshot abt this where SQQ is also in hysterics (albeit over slightly diff reasons) and tells LBH on his knees:#'this disciple deeply apologizes to his shizun. for he will not be ascending to the heavens with him.' right before he falls into the abyss#this au being disciple SY is for shits and giggles but i can also see it happening for regular SQQ bc 'fuck it im a dead man either way'#frothing at the mouth at this idea also being a SY-is-SJ au too. for the extra angst of SQQ trying to bear the weight of multiple lives on#his shoulders and trying to figure out what is real and what isn't and if he's meant to suffer in all of his lives no matter what he does.#not once in his life has he ever been free to do what he likes has he? self-hatred to the max. he's going mad. poor boy :]
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"ooooh thank you! Thank you! Thank you!!!"
They'd be good friends I like to thinmk
#hoppy being very super touchy when happy or excited#catnap being touch averse with some exceptions (and preferring prior warning)#hoppy forgetting this fact and grabbing n' tugging him around when she gets excited anwyas (she'll apologize later)#they're so sillyyy#all the ways the critters get along on a one by one basis is so interesting to me I like to think about what makes them all click#im rambling again oops oops hoppy catnap friendship is also peak i take no criticism /silly#poppy playtime#poppy playtime chapter 3#smiling critters#smiling critters fanart#catnap#hoppy hopscotch#poppy playtime fanart#sorry for disappearing for half a week I got sick and then just. didn't really draw sorry about that one chat#thats pretty normal behavior for me actually dw if I ever go silent for a while that's my norm unfortunately
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do skully have pokemon?
Pumpkaboo is the obvious one, but y'know, sometimes the obvious one is the right one! (we'll say SUPER SIZE Pumpkaboo, just for fun. big pumpkin for big skeleton boy.) and another person actually also suggested Greavard, which I somehow hadn't considered, but feels so perfect that I feel like I should have. dangit.
(they can also have little Nightmare Suit costumes :D)
#art#twisted wonderland#pokemon#poketwst#twisted wonderland spoilers#lost in the book with nightmare before christmas#hajimari no halloween#(sorry for leaving anon off for a while! i've gotten a rash of spam and i'm gonna wait it out a couple days before turning it back on)#also apologies for the rest of this not really being pokemon related#i don't have anything right now for part 4 of the event so i'm gonna use this space to go off about it#because. oh man.#a sad lack of the scullsman but a FEAST of everyone else#gotta love malleus and leona uniting in the common goal of hunting trey down for trying to game their whiny pettiness#(trey doesn't know what to do with someone he can't easily distract with cake)#also further confirmation that malleus WILL kill a small child and leona WILL point and laugh the whole time#also sebek's plans revolving around what he knows he's good at: screaming extremely loudly and hoisting nerds#and let us not forget what i consider to be the crowning jewel#which is jamil figuring out IMMEDIATELY where scully has taken his prisoners#only for everyone else to just. literally refuse to do anything about it.#jamil just standing there and going 'WE KNOW WHERE THEY ARE! WE CAN JUST! GO GET THEM!!!! WHYYY AREN'T WE GOING'#visibly losing his entire mind and it's beautiful#top 10 twst event moments honestly#also some delightful character consistency from jade being all#'actually my dicking around is a sign of my immense trust in your abilities to get things done :)'#'but also consider: there are currently two housewardens chasing a child'#'alternately angrily screaming poetry and begging them not to sue'#'and if you will pardon my city of flowers...there is no fucking way i'm missing that'#lock shock and barrel did not sign up for this. how did these idiots turn out to be somehow weirder than the three of them.#twisted wonderland must be a frightening place indeed
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"This is only the beginningâ the beginning of the end."
STRANGER THINGS SANS VISAGES S04E09 - The Piggyback (Part II of II)
#st gifs#byler#jancy#eddie munson#max mayfield#will byers#el hopper#henry creel#st sans visage#my gifs#useraimz#userallisyn#tuserrae#userkam#usersen#userelz#userpunk#tuserashes#tuserblake#dailystrangerthings#stranger things#and with thisâTHIRTY FIVE GIFSETS AND TEN MONTHS LATERâI have officially finished st sans visages...until S5#I can't believe we made it. I started this solely as a means to visually appreciate the series#and now nearly TWO YEARS TO THE DAY of season four...i've finished them. and my gifmaking skills have expanded SO dramatically#even just because of this series. especially color correction omg#anyway!!! thank you SO much to all the people who have cheered me on through every single one of these#especially when the gaps between sets was damn near as long as we all spend waiting for the duffers lmaoooo#.......also if you made it this far: apologies for the final gif cropping out jopper lmao the structure of the shot did NOT lend itself to#everyone being in the square version of the shot#so I centered it around El and ran lmaoooo
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The most labrador coded guy, somebody call him a good boy
#UTDR#UTMV#Cross Sans#Consider this a small apology for all the awful dad stuff I am doing to this guy#I wanted to draw more but I am so tired today -A-#Thinking about how if they were animals or wereanimals or something like that#Cross would be a big-ish scary looking dog#Who wants to be pet so bad but doesn't let people near him#And when he finally lets someone pet him he probably whines the whole time and his tail thumps around furiously#Also Killer is a cat who can't purr unless he's in stage one#Anyway do you think Nightmare learned how to bake in his half a century?#I hope he makes cookies every once in a while and they're super nice
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Hell yeah
[DP x DC fic]
[Love at first⊠murder? - part 17]
<< Prev | Next >>
Part 1
Ao3
---
Danny opens the door to see Red Hood on the other side. They smile and greet each other before Danny steps outside.
âWhatâs with the bags?â Red Hood asks, gesturing towards the bags Danny has with him.
âWell, this one,â He starts, holding one of the bags up, âis filled with the tp for the manor. While this one,â he holds up the other bag, âhas to do with the second part of the date.â
âItâs a surprise for later, so no peeking!â Danny says, wagging his finger.
Red Hood holds up his arms in surrender and nods in response.
âAlright, I wonât peek.â
âGood.â Danny nods, satisfied with the answer.
âThough, would you like me to carry one of those?â Red Hood asks, pointing towards the bags.
Danny opens his mouth to respond but pauses, giving Red Hood a suspicious look.
âThis isnât some ploy to look inside the date bag, is it?â
Red Hood shakes his head in response.
âNope. Just a genuine question on whether you want me to carry one of those bags or not. No ulterior motives.â He says, not sounding all too convincing.
Danny, who has his eyes still narrowed, gives in.
âAlright. But you carry this one.â He says, handing over the bag with the tp in it.
Red Hood takes it with a nod. They then start walking towards the entrance of the building. Once outside they head over to where Red Hood parked his motorcycle.
âHere, you can put the bags in the saddle bag,â Red Hood says, opening said saddle bag and putting the bag he was carrying inside it before gesturing for Danny to put the one he was carrying in.
After everything is secured and ready, they take off towards the manor.
Instead of going to the front of the manor with the gate, Red Hood takes a different route. They stop somewhere around the back of the manor, beside the stone wall surrounding the property.
Danny takes the bag with the tp with him, leaving the other at the motorcycle.
After looking over the wall to see that none of the manorâs residents are near, they go over it. Luckily for them, the wall isnât too high and they climb and get down from it with ease.
They go over to the manor and once close enough they stop. Danny holds out the bag he brought between them and opens it up. He takes out some tp rolls and hands one over to Red Hood. They grin at each other.
âLetâs give this manor a little make-overâ
âHell yeahâ
Those are the last words spoken between them before they start throwing the rolls at the manor.
---
Danny has another roll of toilet paper in his hand, preparing his next throw. Red Hood is next to him, helmet under his arm, having taken it off a while ago.
Theyâre both grinning at each other, Red Hood giving Danny a thumbs up in encouragement.
Both grins are quickly wiped off their faces when they hear a pointed âahemâ from behind. Danny turns around startled, the toilet paper roll he was holding falling into the grass when he drops it.
Red Hood, who hadnât jumped like Danny had, turns around curiously to look at who was interrupting their fun.
Behind them stands an older man with gray hair and a mustache. Heâs dressed in an impeccable three-piece suit. He looks at them with a kind and open expression, as if they arenât trespassers currently defiling the place he works/lives at.
âGood afternoon, Red Hood and guest. Would either of you care for some refreshments? The cookies are just about done.â The newcomer says.
Danny and Red Hood turn to look at each other. Danny gives him a questioning look. Red Hood just shrugs in response. They both turn back to the man in front of them and Danny speaks up.
âHell yeah, we would love some cookies. If you donât mind, sirâŠ?â
âAlfred Pennyworth, Iâm the Wayne family butler. And your name is?â Mr. Penny inquires as he starts leading them inside the manor and towards the kitchen.
âDanny Fenton at your service, Mr. Pennyworth,â Danny says, doing a silly little bow and almost tripping before he manages to right himself again with a sheepish grin.
âPlease, call me Alfred, Mr. Fenton.â
âOnly if you call me Danny.â
âAlright. Now, Mr. Danny, Red Hood, would either of you care for a cup of tea?â
---
Jason is looking at Danny and Alfred from a small distance as they are chatting over some cookies and tea. He has his arms crossed and a soft smile across his face.
He doesnât jump when a voice coming from his right speaks up.
âNew Brother?â
He turns to look beside him to see Cass curiously looking over in Dannyâs direction. Jason gives her a slight scoff.
âThatâs in-law, for you,â he pauses, the next word coming out a lot softer as he turns back to look at Danny who seems to be laughing at something, âhopefullyâŠâ
Cass nods in response.
âYouâre happy?â She asks with a tilted head.
Jason nods seriously.
Cass smiles.
âGood. Then Iâm happy.â She says before disappearing, leaving them be.
---
Behind Dannyâs back, Jason catches Alfredâs eye and signs to him.
âI just remembered, the laundry should be done now. Please, excuse me.â Alfred says before leaving the room.
Once Alfred is out of sight Danny turns towards Jason, shoving the last bits of the cookie he was eating inside his mouth.
âSo, you ready to get that autograph?â Jason asks him, holding out his hand towards Danny.
Danny glances over at the door Alfred just left through before looking back over at Jason and smiling at him.
âHell yeah.â He says before taking Jasonâs hand and using it to get up from his seat.
Without letting go of his hand, Jason starts leading Danny through the manor.
Thereâs no way theyâd have been able to avoid all cameras in the manor, especially since they went inside with Alfred, so Jason doesnât bother trying to be sneaky.
They already know of Danny anywayâŠ
While theyâre walking towards where Jason knows Timâs room is, Danny looks curiously around the place.
âSay, how do you know your way around here so well?â He asks Jason.
âIâve been around here a few times.â He replies casually. Â âYou donât wanna know how many of their galaâs have been attacked or the amount of times the Wayneâs have been held hostageâ He rolls his eyes. Jason stops walking.
âAlright, Iâm pretty sure this is Mr. Drake-Wayneâs room,â Jason says, opening the door of one of the various rooms in the manor and stepping inside.
âDo I want to know how youâd know which rooms belong to which residents?â
âProbably not.â
âAlright, then I wonât ask,â Danny replies with an unconcerned shrug.
Danny looks around the room, inspecting it while taking care not to touch anything.
âHmmm, do you think heâll have any documents with his signature here? Or does he keep them all at that Wayne Tower thingy?
âMightâve been a smarter idea to have gone there for something of useâŠâ Danny says, muttering the last part more to himself than to Jason.
Jason shrugs in response, walking towards the desk.
âHe probably has something lying around we could snatch. But if need be, I wouldnât say no to breaking into the tower and getting the signature from there.â
âMore breaking and entering, huh? Would that be another date?â Danny says before fake swooning. âHow romanticâ Danny grins, trying to ignore how warm his face feels.
Jason snorts at the bit. He then starts looking through the papers lying on the desk, Â picking up one of the pieces of paper. He scans it, finding it to be some sort of agreement contract between Wayne Enterprises and some other tech company.
It didnât seem too important and, knowing Tim, if it were heâd probably already have multiple copies and back-ups at another location.
Now that Jasonâs thinking about it, this paper is most likely already a copy and not the original. So he feels no remorse handing it over to Danny.
âHere, check this out.â Jason points to the bottom of the document where Timâs signature is located.
Danny takes the document from him, glancing over the signature with a smile.
âAlright! This is perfect, thanks Red!â He looks up from the document and beams at Jason, who makes a âdonât worry about itâ gesture.
Danny then puts the paper into his bag for safekeeping before speaking up again.
âSoooo⊠Wanna finish our tp project before ditching this place for the second part of the date?â
âHell yeah,â Jason responds with a grin.
---
Taglist:
@i-always-say-yea @uraniumwizard @why-must-i-be-like-this @griffinthing @i23432i @imsotiredfanficlovertm @jaguarthecat @arkita-shadow @ilydana @jai-twin
#dp x dc#dp x dc fic#dpxdc#dcxdp#dc x dp#dp x dc crossover#dead on main#dead on main ship#I apologize for the long wait once again#i got a serious case of writers block :/#i hope to post next chap soon#but i cant promise anything#also letâs all imagine Jasonâs motorcycle a saddle bag that all the bags fit in ok?#And I have no clue what the manor would look like/looks like#like if it would or would not have a stone wall around it#So please just work with me#it doesnât have to be 100% accurate as this is just a fic and itâs not even all that important to the story#also Cass knows Jason has been on a date#but not who that date is/what he looks like#which is why she asked ânew brother?â#instead of immediately knowing/assuming itâs the guy Jasonâs dating :p
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in light of tedtrent becoming so real, im also jumping on the tedtrent epilogue đ
there's just no way ted wouldn't keep in touch with the others (and have weekly zoom meetings just like in the christmas special) and I just love the thought of the whole team having reunions once in a while.
and going back to trent's arc in s3, the sunflowers conversation, "And your daughter?" "She's never been happier." I think it could go the same for ted.. we've never really properly saw how henry felt about his dad being in london, it's always other people that told ted his son misses him, who's to say henry would rather see his dad happy because that in turn would make him happy too? he was there to win the whole thing, right? I just know tedâs story isnât done yet when he still hasnât learned to let others take care of him in return and who else to pair him with than the man who blew up his career because a man was nice to him (and also because they were so. so cruel for the fakeout tedbecca scenes for that finale) đ„ș
I'm no writer so just pretend these are snapshots of a slow burn fic where ted visits london for their team reunion and slowly realizes that trent has a crush on him and they kiss about it đ
#ted lasso#trent crimm#tedependent#ted lasso fanart#tedtrent#ted x trent#I HAVE SOOOOOO MUCH MORE THOUGHTS ABOUT THIS BTW its just that its 4am rn and i cannot type down my thoughts for the life of me </3#im just so not over that ending and how weird it felt for ted to end his story like that.. not like he can turn back to michelle since#dr. jacob is right there.. i want this man to feel loved and cared for and actually have a place he knows he can call home and that was#richmond for me.. to the family we were born with. and to the family we make along the way etc etc etc#ted lasso spoilers#<- FORGOT ABOUT THAT.#i can finally say i loved the ending for all the callbacks and stuff but I NEED THIS MAN TO BE HELDDDD!!!!! *everything explodes around me*#he even went back there WITHOUT BEARD :( his bestfriend for sooo long who was there for all their ups and downs. i dont like beard and jane#being together but the fact ted didnt even go to their wedding too like ...??! what is going onnnn#also graying lasso is just something so indulgent for me . hush#pn.art#JUST YKNOW!!! I HOPE YALL UNDERSTAND WHAT IM SAYING ITS REALLY REALLY LATE I PROBABLY SHOULDVE WAITED TILL LATER TO POST THIS BUT JAHJVAKDG#my memory is really bad too so i could also be misremembering scenes and im too eepy to check the scenes i had in mind so u_u#ALSO apologies that its taking me sooo long to draw things i recently joined a mc server and ive been playing it all day and night HFSJGFSH#im sooo scared of making these type of posts because i dont have the balls to make the wrong choices in other people's eyes but GRAAH!!!!!#<- i love tedtrent bUT WHAT IF PEOPLE THINK IM CRINGGGEEEE!!!!!#THATS ALL.... i have more drawings in mind that ill get around to later.. for now goodnight <3
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Swann Arlaud and Evelyne Brochu in Dans l'ombre (2024)
#swann arlaud#evelyne brochu#dans l'ombre#swannedit#my gifs#the colouring on these are so awful I'm so sorry guys but the lighting is terrible in this scene#and also I can't be bothered spending any more time trying to fix it ngl#plus I had to screen record rather than actually downloading the episode#so just apologies all around
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