#plot snippets

[seleneprince]

Snippet of my Neglected! Family x Yandere! Batfam au (I really need to find a name for this au already)

Wife! Darling has known of the Batcave's existence for years already, and so do her children.

She found out by pure accident. Her oldest daughter was doing her usual computer stuff she didn't understand, and said she found a weird signal coming from under the manor, in the underground...only they didn't know there was anything down there, not even a basement. Alfred never mentioned it.

The girl went to check, tracing the mysterious signal with her phone, and found a hidden compartment behind the pendulum clock. Before her mother could tell her to stop, she went down there.

Cue to Wife! Darling following her daughter to make sure she didn't get in trouble or hurt herself, because who knew if Batman even bothered with basic security measures for his vigilante stuff. From what she's seen of him as Bruce Wayne, she doubted it.

And that's how they found the Batcave. By the time Alfred found out and met them there, the daughter had already tinkered with half the equipment and replicated part of the Batcomputer's code in her tablet for fun, while her mother explored the whole place with a critical eye. Alfred expected them to be angry, to ask a lot of questions, but instead:

Wife! Darling!: "Who takes care of this place?"

Alfred: "Mostly me, Mistress (Name)."

Wife! Darling squinted her eyes, gaze darkening: "Just you? Does no one help you?"

Alfred: "It's part of my job, Mistress (Name). Don't worry, I can handle it perfectly well on my own."

She scoffed. "Well, this has to change. You're just one man, Alfred, and you're not getting younger with the years. The fact that they let you do so much already by yourself is infuriating, and you also have to clean after their crime-fighting bullshit? The nerve. I'll take care of this from now on"

Alfred blinked: "Mistress (Name), I can't possibly ask you that. You already help me more than enough around the house-"

Wife! Darling: "Nonsense, Alfred. You do way too much already. At this rate, it'll only affect your health for worse. I live here too now, so technically it's also my responsibility."

And that's how she ends up handling the maintenance of the Batcave along with Alfred, even taking over his tasks entirely. She starts off with the excuse of helping him, which it's true, but eventually she always takes care everything so the man has no option but rest.

And because she's such a perfectionist, she doesn't spare any efforts in the task. Cleans all the surfaces, fixes the suits, rearranges the weapons after cleaning them and creates a system to organize their gadgets so they're much easier to find. Even the Batmobile is left spotless, inside and outside. She goes as far to feed some of the bats casually roaming around the edges of the cave.

(And if her kids had naps inside the batmobile sometimes when they were down there, only she and Alfred are witnesses. Well, the bats too, but they're not snitching)

This way she takes some work off Alfred's shoulders. She finds it enraging that a man his age has such a heavy load of work with little to no help, so she takes over some of the house chores for him so he can have breaks. Plus, it helps her unwind and relax a bit from her usually stress-fuelled life.

She also begins to leave snarky notes about the shameful state of their gear when she finds it in particularly bad shape. And feels even worse that Alfred has had to take care of all of this at his age until she came.

"This blade is duller than your sense of self-awareness. Fix it"

"Blood is not a fashion statement. Grow up"

"If you die in this crusty suit, I’m not cleaning your corpse"

"Are you fighting villains or rolling in garbage?"

Seriously, the richest man in Gotham can't even afford a bit more of staff? But of course, she reminds herself he's the same man who forgot to use protection when fucking a random woman, so she shouldn't expect too much from him.

To avoid uncomfortable encounters, she specifically schedules her cleaning times for when the whole team is out, so she can work peacefully without being having to be in the same room as them. So far, it goes well. Alfred even warns her when they're coming back, and the Batcave is actually a pretty nice place to enjoy time for yourself when it's empty. Just the beeping of the computers as background noise, or her children messing around when they go down there to do their things.

It becomes part of her routine, one she even looks forward too during the day. Until one day.

The Batcave has been left spotless, as usual. Weapons polished. Suits lined up by height and damage level. Even the Batmobile has that new-car shimmer. It smells faintly of citrus-scented cleaning spray and frustration. There are also four sticky notes scattered across the table already, complaining about the state of their things again.

She is crouched near the weapon rack, holding the Batman suit with one gloved hand and a lint roller in the other, glaring at it like it personally offended her.

She mutters under her breath in Spanish, something about how "ni siquiera una máquina de coser podría salvar este desastre de traje, Dios mío." (Not even a sewing machine could save this disaster of a suit, my godness)

She’s in sweats, hair tied back in a messy bun. An apron over her tank top that says "KISS THE COOK (or don’t, I’ll stab you)". She's so deep in the cleaning zone she doesn’t hear the footsteps.

"Well, this is a surprise. I could get used to this."

Her entire body freezes. It feels like her blood turned ice in her veins instantly with the voice. That irritating, familiar voice.

Her head turns slowly, and there he is. Bruce Wayne in the flesh. Her husband in paper, father of her first child, owner of this cave, and responsible for half of the stress she deals with.

She could be annoyed or even embarrassed that he caught her like this, handling his suit no less. But instead, her mind is focused on what he said, and the tone in which he said it.

She arches a brow at him.

"Excuse me?"

He steps closer, clearly taking note of her work there. His eyes drifting to the Batmobile, the weapons, all she's taken care of already.

Bruce: "Me, coming back from work to find you cleaning my stuff. It’s so… domestic. It’s almost like we’re a married couple."

There’s a beat. A dangerous silence.

She blinks at him. Once. Twice. Processing the fact that he really said that. Out loud. To her. And in a completely serious tone.

Then he looks at her, and she notices the ghost of a smirk at the corner of his mouth. Oh, that filthy little-

Her eye twitches.

Wife! Darling: "...........Oh, absolutely."

WHACK.

She chucks a batarang at his head with a speed and accuracy that would’ve made Deadshot whistle. He barely ducks, and it slams into the metal behind him with a THUNK so loud the Batcomputer flinches and some bats burst out from their spots.

Bruce: "That could’ve taken my eye out."

Wife! Darling:"I was hoping so."

He stares at her, and then shakes his head, letting out a low chuckle. A chuckle. Since when is this man capable of that? Before she gets her answer, he pulls out the batarang with ease and places it back on the rack (Good, she would've murdered him for real if he left it anywhere else).

Bruce: "I meant it. I think I like this sight of you. Suits you well. You look like the ideal housewife."

Without looking, she reaches for another batarang and throws it at him. This time, he catches it mid-air, cool as ever, before setting it down on the table like he isn’t one second away from getting stabbed.

Bruce: "Was that really necessary?"

Wife! Darling: "It was either that or shoot you. You're lucky I'm generous today."

He watches her, barely concealing his amusement now, but there’s something else in his expression too, something he's never had when looking at her: Curiosity.

She doesn't like it.

Unbothered, as if he didn't just activate her kill switch, he starts to walk to the table and peels off one of the sticky notes, reading it aloud with a deadpan tone.

"Blood is not a fashion statement. Grow up."

Bruce: "You know I beat the shit out of people in this suit, right?"

She replies without sparing him a glance, wiping down a grappling gun with unholy aggression: "Yeah? Well, do it without staining it with their blood. You look like Gotham’s dirtiest raccoon."

He leans against the Batcomputer, arms folded. "How long have you been doing this, exactly?"

She scoffs, going back to adjusting the suit like she isn’t being interrogated. "Long enough to know that you leave your weapons in a shameful state. Honestly, it’s a miracle your stupid gadgets still function. Do you ever bother to maintain your own things, or do you just throw them around and hope Alfred fixes it?"

He watches her for a moment longer before finally speaking.

"And you’re doing this because...?"

"Because unlike some people in this godforsaken house, I actually care when an old man is running himself ragged taking care of things that none of you seem to appreciate."

Bruce pauses. He glances at the Batmobile, cleaner than it’s ever been. At his weapons, neatly arranged, polished, functional.

At the post-it notes stuck to the Batcomputer, scrawled in Rosa’s angry handwriting.

He actually huffs a quiet laugh. Again. It's unsettling her.

Then, almost as an afterthought, she mutters, "Besides, if you die because your equipment fails, it’s only a matter of time before you try to drag me into this circus. And I refuse to wear spandex."

He raises an eyebrow. "You’d look good in spandex."

Silence.

She throws the batarang at him again. This time, it actually clips his shoulder.

"Go get that treated before you stain anything, or I'll wipe the floors next with your face."

.......................

...........

Suddenly, Bruce starts to "casually" come to the cave early more often.

Now she has to adjust her schedule AGAIN to avoid him. And in the meantime, her children start betting on how many batarangs it takes before Bruce gets critically injured. Or dead.

[andarateiacantori]

am i crazy or has very little of what bioware has revealed so far been actual "spoilers" and not just very typical game marketing to get people interested in the story... like i get wanting to go in blind of course but then you shouldnt be watching this marketing stuff to start with lol

[varpusvaras]

If someone ever asked Roy what Jason reminded him of, he would've said a cat.

A big, black, fluffy cat that would pretend to not even notice you for half a day, but would then proceed to flop right on top of you when you least expected it and leave you coated in fur.

A very cute, big, black, fluffy cat, of course, if Roy was being precise.

Yeah, that was his boyfriend.

His boyfriend, who was currently curled up on the bed like he truly was the cat he so reminded Roy about, his face pressed against Roy's thigh. Combined with the dimness of the room, it was almost enough to hide the fact that there was a large, nasty bruise covering half of Jason's face at the moment.

Almost.

"How did you even manage to get this?" Roy asked. It was mostly a rhetorical question at that point, just whispered out loud, because it was in the middle of the night and Jason was definitely ninety percent asleep already and was not going to give Roy a coherent answer. That was what one got after finishing up a two-days long mission and then deciding to instantly drive to the other side of the country, instead of staying put and resting after said two-days mission.

To be fair, if Roy was being completely honest, he did like Jason being home sooner than later. It wasn't a particularly big secret that Roy didn't hold much love for Gotham, after all, even if Jason still called the city home as much as he called their house home. He just...felt better when Jason was with him, especially after more grueling missions, and he was pretty sure that Jason knew it, even if they had never outright discussed it out loud.

Jason made a noise under his breath that quite honestly sounded like a kitten whining, and Roy had to bite his lip a little to not laugh at it. It would've been an affectionate laugh, of course, but better not risk it.

"Yeah, yeah." Roy ran his fingers through Jason's hair. "Mister always wearing a helmet. I'm gonna fix it up for you."

Jason made another noise, a softer one this time, and he settled further into the mattress as Roy continued to stroke his hair. Roy waited for a moment, then two, and when he was positive that Jason had fallen asleep, he slowly got up and made his way to the garage.

Despite being probably already bone-tired by arrival, Jason had still meticulously gone through their agreed homecoming routine. Lian knew about their identities, of course, and she was a smart girl, but all of the gear still belonged outside the main house. It had been Jason making most of the rules when it came to his own gear. He hated the thought of others touching it without his permission, and he especially hated even the idea of Lian touching it and somehow getting hurt. Sometimes it was like Jason was convinced that even looking towards any part of his gear would hurt Lian, which was something Roy felt like needed a licenced therapist to fully unpack. He did appreciate the care Jason displayed towards Lian, though, so he wasn't going to complain about it to Jason's face.

Thinking about Lian and Jason's face made Roy grimace. Jason didn't like letting Lian see him hurt, no matter how big or small. A bruise that was covering half of Jason's face was going to be hard to hide, though Roy knew that Jason would somehow be able to manage it. Painfully and by gritting his teeth, but he would.

Roy knew what it was all about. He wasn't stupid.

Roy flicked the lights on in the garage, before making his way to the cabinet Jason had claimed for himself. By this point, Roy had an open invitation to Jason's armor and weapons, as he was the only other person who knew how everything worked precisely. Roy was also pretty sure that Jason knew that Roy liked fixing things up for him, and he let him do it because it was an easier way to accept a display of affection than having to listen someone promise him everything, once again, while holding all the power to take their words back without a warning.

Roy went through the plan of action in his head while he unlocked the cabinet. He would need to fire up the workbench and get the electrical tools out in order to get the helmet fixed. Maybe he could draw up some plans how to make the front more durable while keeping it absorbant enough that it would still be the helmet taking the brunt of the hits and not Jason's head underneath it. It would take some time to figure out, but Jason would probably let him make him a new one if Roy just managed it. It would mean that the times of Jason having hard to hide-injuries would be lessened, after all.

Maybe he could manage to adjust the color, too, just to make it a little less vibrant. Roy was starting to seriously think that the helmet was beginning to act like the red capes in bullfighting, inviting more and more hits directly towards it simply because it was there. He wouldn't have been surprised if it really was so. Gotham was messed up, and the rogues playing a game of "who manages to break in the Red Hood's helmet and face first" sounded entirely plausible. This wasn't the first time Jason had come back sporting similar injuries, though usually they were either a little smaller, or Jason had had to stay in Gotham for longer and they were already fading by the time he got back.

Jason would most likely say no, though. The red was part of his brand at this point, it was meant to make an impression to anyone seeing it. Just Roy's luck that he had fallen for the theather kid who had not yet left the phase behind.

Not that Roy was ever going to say that to Jason. He was fully aware of the fact that he was the one running around with a bow, after all.

What a pair they made.

Roy smiled. What a pair, indeed, he thought, as he pulled the cabinet door open and proceeded to have Jason's helmet stare right at him from the upper shelf.

The helmet, which was very much not broken.

Roy stared at it for a good while. It was definitely the same helmet Jason had left with to Gotham. There was a small scratch on the paint, just unde the left lense, that Jason had meant to paint over but had not had the time yet. Roy had watched him pack it up with his own two eyes.

If Roy was anyone else, he would've been able to convince himself that there was probably a perfectly simple and harmless explanation. But Roy wasn't anyone else. Roy was who he was, and that was someone who had been fighting increasingly dangerous fights since he was a teenager, and who had seen harm being inflected over and over again and the marks it would leave behind.

Roy stared at the helmet. The helmet seemed to stare back at him, silently daring him to say it out loud.

Roy didn't say it. He closed the door and locked it back up, while something cold settled firmly at the bottom of his stomach.

He stood there for just a little longer, gathering himself, before he silently made his way out of the garage the exact same path he had walked in mere moments ago.

Lian was still asleep when Roy checked on her, and so was Jason when he slipped back into the bedroom. He stirred a bit when Roy laid down as well, not enough to wake up, but enough to turn towards Roy. Roy could see the bruise now in all of its glory, stretching across Jason's skin like a shadow.

Jason's hand was laying between them on the bed, and Roy laced their fingers together, gently and carefully.

Jason's hand was warm. It was enough to chase away some of the cold inside Roy, and he held onto it tightly.

[luke-and-kieran-lover]

Luke and Kieran x MC

So I was upset of how little content I can find for my boys, so I wrote this lil thing myself

Words:287

Rating: M

No twincest, they are just sharing 💯

~~~

She sighed and arched her back, feeling Kieran’s soft lips tracing hot patterns on her neck from behind. Luke laid in front of her, stroking her cheek with his thumb, the material of the leather glove feeling strange against her skin.

Her cheeks flushed a darker shade of pink, her head tilting backwards a bit, giving Kieran better access. She shivered as he bit onto the sensitive skin of her neck, leaving behind a dark love bite. 

She pushed her head into Luke’s palm, leaning into his touch. “Stop it,” she protested weakly. 

“such a pretty mouth. I can think of several things it could do better instead of complaining like that.” Luke teased her, smearing her lipstick with his thumb. 

Her eyes narrowed, showing her feisty side just for a moment until her lips parted in another moan when Kieran started sucking at the delicate skin behind her ear. 

Luke's brow jerked in annoyance, a sting of jealousy flashed in his eyes, covered by his mask. 

“close your eyes” he said, surprising her. 

“huh?”

Luke sighed and Kieran covered her eyes with his palm when his brother swiftly took off his mask. She felt another set of lips pressing against her jaw, the sensation making her squirm in their tight embrace. 

She was trapped, stuck between their lean bodies, every move making her rub against them, adding oil to the fire. 

Kieran’s other hand was sprawled on her stomach, caressing her skin and now sliding lower. Luke grabbed her ass and pressed her closer to himself and claimed her lips eagerly. She could hear a low chuckle of Kieran and a sound of a slap as his twin hit his arm for laughing at his jealousy. 

[scalpho]

bill wants fabian to be just like him, but the problem is that bill is aggressively self-centred, and fabian cannot emulate him (by prioritising himself) without putting bill's wishes on the backburner. and bill, being as self-centred as he is, can't stand the fact that him and his wants are not fabian's number 1 priority. family in flames gives us a great example of this: bill yells at fabian for not defending himself against bill's insults specifically because it's not how bill would react ("i would never let any man speak to me the way i’m speaking to you right now"), and in the same minute also yells at him for defending himself ("you'll raise your voice at me now, will you?"). fabian can't emulate bill without disrespecting him, but he's expected to figure out some impossible way to balance these two conflicting expectations!

the trick is that this contradiction doesn't exist as long as fabian's wants are synonymous with bill's, which is why shit only hits the fan after fabian starts spending time away from his family and discovers the magic of independent thinking. the cracks in the formula are still super easy to see early on, though - bill killed his own father, but threatens to kill fabian if he ever attempts the same move. kudos to him for managing to say something both hypocritical and, in hindsight, incredibly ironic

[illegiblehandwriting1]

WIP Wednesday??? mayhaps???

--

“You’re acting like a soldier.” Twilight’s icy blue eyes bored into his own. “I’m not going to talk to a soldier. I want to talk to a person.” 

“I–” Warrior was beyond baffled. “I am a person.” 

His eyes tightened. “No, you're a soldier. You can't be a soldier here. You've been slipping into this — I don’t know — what should be done, or you're reading too much into what other people do and inflating it, or you're not…you're just not being Warrior. And we're not your troops. You can't just do something and expect them to be okay. They're not. You're not. I need you to not do things when you're shocked, or scared, or angry. I just need you to listen, because I’m confused.” And hurt, those eyes seemed to say. And angry, and scared and tired and in pain and a million other things. And I need someone to just be there for a little while. 

He could do that. He knew how to do that. So he just nodded and shut his mouth.

--

[justallihere]

“Was it impolite when I fucked you every night for the past week?” He asked it in a low voice right next to her ear, and was pleased when she drew in a quick little breath and shivered. “Because I was definitely staring at you then, and I seem to remember you enjoying it.” 

[lena-in-a-red-dress]

I've gotten precisely one vote of approval for an Olympus Has Fallen AU snippet... which is honestly all I need.

Snippet incoming hopefully today, because I can't help myself.

[foolsfrogg]

I have so much art and comics I haven’t posted- (this is from january for my su au )

continued under cut

[23fallencomets]

hey look at this

*throws OP!Logan at you*

“logan sargeant, two time elms world champion, one time le mans winner, two time wec world champion, and imsa co-champion adds another trophy cup as he crosses the checkered flag as the first american in eight years to win the indy500!”

logan has accumulated a staggering amount of trophies over the years, his time in F1 simply a blip in his career. the one and a half years in the “pinnacle of racing” had nothing on the various successes he has had in other racing categories. after all, what is a measly championship point to four world championship titles, a revered le mans winning title and the elusive indy500 win?

over the last ten years, logan sargeant has shown incredible strength, talent and skill as he tackled four different racing categories. he has carved a name for himself within the history of motorsport, but he’s itching for one more.

“it’s a little ambitious,” logan says, sitting across from me. we’re in florida, the early spring sun strong as we sit in a quiet corner of a small hole-in-the-wall diner.

“i promised i wouldn’t go back, but it’s been a persistent itch ever since i thought about it,” he continues, “i feel a little greedy, like i want to win all of it.”

with majority of the older grid members from the 2024 season now retired, or in other racing categories, the so-called ‘silly season’ is barley getting started with surprising moves from various drivers.

george russell accepts the move to redbull with yuki tsunoda who had dominated the field early on before inter-team issues crossed over into the development of the car, screwing over both tsunoda and lawson.

another surprising move is alex albon to ferrari with charles leclerc. the sun of maranello and two-time world champion has extended his contract for another two years and has expressed excitement over his companionship with thai-brit driver.

with the first mercedes seat open, and kimi moving up to take it, fred vesti is rumored to get the second seat after covering three point-scoring races last year for george after he had gotten severely sick.

with cadillac now fully engaged into the sport, that leaves more than fifteen seats open with only kimi, george, alex, charles, and eventually fred vesti confirmed for the upcoming 2033 Formula one season.

“who knows,” logan says knowingly with a grin, he looks excited, smile wide and eyes crinkled with crows-feet, years lived fully and happily.

he no longer carries himself like he did back all those years ago, shoulders slumped and a heavy sadness against the ever blue backdrop of Williams. he’s no longer twenty-three with the weight of the world on his shoulders, no now he’s logan sargeant, thirty-three years old on top of the world and his eyes set on winning the revered trip crown and if he swipes other world championship title, who is he to complain?

BREAKING: Logan Sargeant to re-join Formula One with Cadillac-Andretti GM alongside Pato O’ Ward for the 2033 Formula One Season.

[nyoomfruits]

ellie nyoomfruits writing choscar 👀👀👀

HEHEHEHE

“Oscar!” Charles exclaims, when Oscar wanders through the door the next morning, impressive levels of zombie state. He startles when Charles says his name, like he forgot he was actually out and about for a moment.

“Morning,” Oscar mumbles, a rosy blush on his cheeks. It must be getting cold out, the last wisps of summer finally officially melting into autumn. “Can I just get a blueberry muffin this time?”

“And your drink?” Charles says, leaning on the counter, fluttering his lashes in the way he’s seen Lando successfully do before, whenever he needed Carlos to do shit for him.

“Uh,” Oscar says. “Oh, uh…” He pauses. “Are you okay? Do you have something in your eye?”

“What?” Charles asks, stops fluttering.

“No, just, you were like. All twitchy?” Oscar��s flush has returned, coloring his cheeks and creeping down to his neck.

“No, I’m,” Charles sighs. “I’m okay. But, your drink? We have an absolutely delicious Apple Pie Frappuccino on the board today.” He throws in a wink for good measure.

“Are you sure your eye is okay?” Oscar asks.

Charles suppresses the urge to thunk his head down onto the counter. This is not going how he envisioned it. “My eye is fine,” he grits out. “Drink?”

“Oh,” Oscar says. “Small Americano?”

Goddamnit.

[sawbcnes]

did you know there’s a trek novel in which scotty and bones spend 100 pages or so living in a two person shuttle and adopt a cat together. because, well,

[aliferous-ly]

ranchers au of the story of a woman who'll marry whoever can get the key off her cats neck

except it's tango, who is a magician of sorts so he's highly sought after, so he comes up with this test of whoever can get the key he'll marry. people start setting traps and whatnot. most of them tango avoids with ease, but he gets caught in one. depressed, he waits for the inevitable downfall.

only, the person who finds him isnt the one who set the trap. a man finds him, and, aghast at the sight, let's tango go. later in town as jimmy recounts this happenstance everyone around him angrily tells him off because he's squandered this perfect opportunity, and this is how Jimmy finds out about the contest.

he thinks the contest is rather upsetting, because how could someone set the whole town against a poor cat like that?

jimmy takes it upon himself to take care of the cat. he listens as people brag about traps so he can find them and dismantle them. he leaves food and fresh water out when he can, and sets up a small shelter for when it rains. he can't imagine that the cat will use it, with it looking so obviously like a trap, but he sets it up anyway.

he gets a rather negative reputation in town because of this. but instead of backing down, jimmy instead snaps back about what kind of person tango must be, to pit the whole town against an innocent animal! because of the pushback from the townspeople he gets rather righteous about his position.

his opinion is cemented further as the cat slowly learns to trust him. sometimes Jimmy rants to the cat about his neglectful and cruel owner.

time passes. many people in town give up on their endeavors. they set traps, but can't afford to check them frequently. they're too busy working. jimmy gains the cats trust and the cat hides in the shelter he built it. eventually, the cat even walks into his home.

jimmy all but adopts this cat, at this point. he feeds it, cares for it, makes sure it's safe during storms and warm on cold nights. the cat hangs around him all the time, the key dangling from its neck. it's startling, the first time the cat jumps on his lap, but jimmy rewards this trust with lots of pets and nothing else.

the cat grows bolder. it bumps it's forehead against jimmy's hand, curls up on jimmy's lap, and yowls for food at the crack of dawn. it leaves the house but never for longer than a day, always returning with an expectant gaze.

Jimmy tries to ignore the key but he grows restless. this tango guy hasn't even asked about his cat, and Jimmy's been caring for it for ages! He knows the key is to tangos house and is only for the winning suitor, but after the weather turns cold and jimmy despairs about how the cat would survive in such extreme weather without help, he takes the key and stomps up to tangos house to give him a piece of his mind.

it's a long, winding path. The cat follows him the whole way, which is odd, since the cat usually only follows Jimmy when he's safe at home. jimmy reaches the house and he knocks first, he has manners, but after no answer he unlocks it and storms in.

only, the whole place is empty. it's clean, someone clearly lives here, but there's nobody home. jimmy deflates. the cat jumps on a large cushioned chair and stares at him.

jimmy slumps over to the cat and pets it, mumbling about what to do next. he does one final sweep of the house (in jimmy's opinion, if tango wanted privacy he wouldnt have put his key on a cat!). and when he turns back to the cat, hands on his hips and ready to announce failure, his cat isn't... there. in it's place is a man with fiery red hair and a smirk firmly upon his lips.

jimmy has his moments of foolishness but he's not dense. he makes the connection. he realizes, and gapes at the man -- at tango, who's been the cat all along.

tango teases him about marriage and jimmy flusters. the two of them finally get to know each other outside of the contest and tango is firm in his reward, announcing it to the townspeople (many of which are furious at Jimmy, loudest anti-tango spokesman around, being the winner).

and jimmy and tango fall in love and live happily ever after the end.

and yes, jimmy is incredibly embarrassed about unknowingly insulting tango to his face. tango, for his part, found it hilarious and it actually endeared him to jimmy, since jimmy was so furious on the cat's behalf.

[hedwig221b]

please queen hedwig221b tell ur humble servants when the next twilight installment is due for publishing. i am dying of starvation over here and i think i speak for the other people of ur court.

Let's go with June? Yeah, June, if nothing horrible happens.

I am happy to announce that after months of writer's drought, I have a lot of inspo for New Moon. I am writing nearly every day now, and I feel like it's gonna be big. Literally plotting like this:

I am incredibly locked in. It's all I think about. Doing everything to write it so you would grip the edge of your seat as you read

[teecupangel]

I’ve seen things where Desmond is blind and I’ve seen things where Altaïr is blind, but I’ve never seen a story with Ezio being blind. Any ideas?

Ezio would focus on his other senses and trained himself to be able to visualize the world in his mind. He doesn’t know it but he’s able to sense more than a normal person because he developed a variation of the Eagle Sense. His visualization of the world is more like his brain trying to create an image of what he can hear and smell.

The world in his mind is a myriads of colors he can’t even name, brought by the scents and sounds around him.

He also uses a cane both as a way to help him navigate as well as to an emergency weapon if need be.

Giovanni never thought of letting Ezio be an Assassin. In some ways, this Ezio is freer than he was supposed to be. Free to be who he wants to be.

Free to do whatever he wanted, protected by the name Auditore.

So when his father and brothers were arrested, he was busy outside just going his merry way.

He would still be an Assassin but many would ask him if he was the right person for the job. Many would ask what he could do, considering he could not see.

But, while he might not see anything, he knows the path he must take.

His senses would guide his blade.

[lena-in-a-red-dress]

Alt Assistant Pt 7 (finale)

Kara reflexively keeps her distance from Lena, for all of two days, until she realizes that while respecting Lena's boundaries is important, she does not have to respect any boundary set by Lex.

She comes to this conclusion late Sunday night, and makes a point to be in the office early to make her point. She's lucky Lena's already there, plugging miserably away at a spreadsheet R&D had sent to her the Friday before. Kara plunks down her boss's coffee of the desk, nearly sloshing it, and scowls when Lena turns her gaze up at her.

"You don't have to do everything your brother tells you," she says, far more scathingly than she intends. It backfires when Lena interprets her tone as petulance.

"I hardly think two days without sex warrants a tantrum Miss Danvers," she responds coolly. Her gaze returns to her computer. "Nor do our trysts qualify you to pass judgement on my relationship with my brother."

"I know you better than you think," Kara snaps. "And living under Lex's thumb isn't a good look on you."

At that, Lena's gaze snaps back up with razor sharp precision, skewering Kara to the spot. Her jaw tightens. "My respect for my brother--"

"Isn't respect!" Kara bites back. She knows she skirts the limits of Lena's goodwill, but she can't help the anger and resentment that bubbles up. "It's control, and you know it."

At that, Lena's scowl deepens, but her focus skitters away, proving the veracity of Kara's accusation.

"You are your own person," Kara pushes. "And you're capable of making your own decisions."

Lena's moment of concession evaporates with a scowl. "Get out."

It's enough to make Kara see red, but she manages to keep her temper in check.

"Fine," she clips out. She turns on her heel and marches towards the door, only to pause with her fingers wrapped in a fist around the handle. "And maybe you should think why Lex has such a problem with you being fucking happy for once."

With that, she yanks the door open and all but slams it shut behind her when she leaves.

----

Prepping a charity gala isn't easy-- or fun-- when they can hardly stand to be in the same room together without snapping. It involves a lot of "fines"s and "just get it done"s and "yes, miss luthor"s, but it eventually culminates in a lavish, extravagant affair that the guests seem to enjoy.

Kara hovers in her floor length gown that snugs in all the right places, yet leaves her arms bare to give her room to actually work during set up, and now cools her down as she takes a moment to breathe.

She knows Lena is here, by way of a curt text received an hour ago, but has yet to actually see her in the throng of well-dressed patrons. She does see Lex though, who somehow manages to look smug even as he glowers at her. It's nearly halfway through the night when Kara finally catches a glimpse of her boss.

Her mouth promptly goes dry.

Lena's dressed in a black chiffon dress that hugs her hips. When she turns, Kara sees the thin straps that leave the ivory skin of her back largely bare-- and the long silver chain that dangles against Lena's spine.

The vision is so distracting that it takes Kara a long moment to notice that Lena had turned towards a tug on her wrist, and that it was Lex who now gripped it tightly.

Kara watches their heated exchange of hissed words until Lena finally wrenches her wrist free of her brother's grasp. Lex's features darken as he issues what can only be a final warning before taking his leave. Lena watches him go for a long moment before finally turning.

Their eyes lock.

In that moment, Lena is laid bare-- Kara can see the shock of their unexpected connection (Lena has been avoiding her), and registers the brief up-and-down of Lena's gaze as she's scanned by wide green eyes. Then, Kara sees that dreaded word again: don't.

Only this time it's not directed at Kara, but rather inward, a silent scold towards Lena herself, combating the flush of desire written clear across Lena's cheeks. But then, almost as soon as it appears, it's eclipsed by a sudden hardening of Lena's gaze, now resolute as Lena comes to a conclusion known only to her.

Kara stares as Lena marches towards her, determined and unflinching. She barely has the time to grin before her arms are full of Lena, and warm hands sandwich her face fiercely as she's kissed long and deep.

When Lena comes up for air, breathless words come tumbling out.

"You're fired," she says. Their foreheads rest together, and Lena's hands have yet to move from where her thumbs rub gently against Kara's cheeks.

Now, Kara does grin.

"About time," she growls, and pulls Lena into another searing kiss. Kara senses the eyes on them, but doesn't bother to look to see if Lex's is among them.

Screw them, Kara thinks, savoring the taste of Lena's lips and the glide of their tongues together.

Screw them all.