#helena writes

[helena-edits-in-real-time]

Chapter 16

Mistakes Are Contagious, You Don't Want to Catch Mine

Tony knows he should kill him. He really should if he wants to do this without anybody standing in his way. But a small voice in his head begs him not to, reminds him of the man he used to be. Maybe that man is still in there somewhere after all.

Chapter 1

[bobfloydsbabe]

gold rush | eccentric professor!bob floyd x oc

SUMMARY: Everyone knows history professor Bob Floyd is a little eccentric. He only drinks tea steeped for exactly four minutes, his desk is pristine while the rest of his office looks like a bomb went off, he's distrustful of technology, and he definitely doesn't want or need a teaching assistant. Certainly not one who's as aggravating as she is pretty...

WARNINGS: academia au, enemies to lovers (if you squint), age gap (mid-to-late 20s/late 30s), bob being grumpy and rude. strictly 18+/minors dni.

WORD COUNT: ~0.5k

A/N: Eccentric Professor Bob Floyd has been on my mind constantly for the last week, so here we are with a moodboard and a short blurb. This AU will not be a full length series, but a collection of blurbs and drabbles. Special thanks to @ryebecca for raving with me about my new favorite grumpy man. Don't hesitate to send me questions and headcanons!

UPDATE: SERIES MASTERLIST

Bob stops dead in his tracks in the doorway to his office, hot tea spilling over the edges of the cup.

Inside, among piles of books and paper, stands a woman with her back turned none the wiser to his presence. She can’t be one of his students–they know not to come to his office unless they have an appointment.

“Who are you?” he asks, not bothered with pleasantries.

She turns around with a startled laugh. “Dr. Floyd, you scared me,” she says with a hand pressed to her heaving chest. “You can’t sneak up on people like that.”

“You’re in my office,” he points out, brushing past her as he walks to his desk in long strides, placing his cup on a coaster to protect the wood.

“Right,” she agrees.

He sits and pulls his books closer to continue preparing for his next lecture, but his eyes drifts back to the young woman. She appears to be in her mid, maybe late twenties. Dark hair falls in loose waves around her face, and she’s looking at him expectantly. “Did you need something?” he asks.

She cocks her head to the side, brows furrowed. “I’m waiting for you to put me to work.”

“Work?”

“Yes,” she answers, incredulous. “What did your old TA do?”

He stares at her, almost convinced he’s hallucinating. “I don’t have a teaching assistant.”

She smiles at him, wide and enthusiastic. “Well, you do now. Would you like me to clean up a bit? It’s a little messy in here.”

Bob suppresses a frustrated groan. Pushing back from his desk, he stands and rounds his desk, stopping in front of her. The scent of her perfume hits his nostrils, something spicy and vaguely floral, and this close, he can see all the colors in her eyes. “I don’t want a TA and I certainly don’t need one. Whoever hired you–”

“Dr. Kazansky,” she interjects. “–made an error. Now, please, leave.”

Walking back around his desk, he ignores the sound of her taking a deep breath and composing herself. She doesn’t speak until he’s fully sat and emerged in his books again.

“You may not want me here, Dr. Floyd,” she begins through clenched teeth, forcing him to look up. She holds his gaze, determination and a hint of defiance in those dark doe eyes. “But you’re stuck with me. So, I’ll be back tomorrow and we can start over. Have a good day.”

The door slams and Bob’s left in the silence of his office, staring at the spot where she stood mere moments ago. Of course, Dr. Kazansky went behind his back to hire a teaching assistant–he’s insisted that Bob needs one for years, but Bob’s always been able to avoid it. Until now, it seems. He wonders how long she’ll last before she realizes he’s too set in his ways to change. But as he imagines the way her nose will scrunch in annoyance, it occurs to him he never even got her name.

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[hesbuckcompton-baby]

forgive me for this very last-minute entry to the @blind-dates-fest! allow me to introduce lucy 'luca' torrio to you all - my favourite partisan and jock mcdiarmid's deeply unhinged future wife

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

communion

Music filled the midnight air as someone thumped out a tune on the piano the SAS had commandeered in Augusta. The clumsy playing almost entirely drowned out by the din of voices, the partisans belting out an old Italian song, its lyrics as familiar to her as the pages of a childhood book.

Luca liked to drink - she liked to sing - and neither activity was in short supply tonight. Yet there she was, sitting on the church steps and watching on in motionless silence.

In the hours since news of Mussolini's arrest had made its way over the radio waves, her comrades' celebration had been impossible to avoid. The alcohol stores had been swiftly depleted - much to the eventual chagrin of those not involved - and she didn't doubt that the Irishman would have some choice words about it come morning. But for now, things were good; many of the SAS men joined with the music where they could, emptying their cups just as swiftly as the Italians. McDiarmid's deep, Scottish tone rang clear as it cut through the song, warbling along off-key and without any knowledge of the words in a reckless merriment that made an involuntary smile tug at her lip.

Her glass had been empty for a while. Too long.

Her boot scuffed against the stone steps as Luca hauled herself to her feet, glass balanced between her fingertips, scraping a few stray strands of red hair away from her face. The night breeze was cool against alcohol-flushed cheeks as she turned towards the church door, the din from outside muffled the moment she stepped inside. Each footstep echoed against the arched ceiling, throwing each inch of her intrusion back at her, amplified. It had been a long time since Luca had felt God had any place in her life - a long time since she hadn't felt betrayed.

The communion wine perched high upon the altar, a glimmer of moonlight catching against the glass as it streamed in through one of the narrow windows, glittering silver in the dark. It looked good. Perhaps more importantly, it looked easy to take.

Luca ran a hand across her face, tugging slightly at the skin, fighting against exhaustion with what may have also been a subconscious effort at snapping herself out of what she was about to do. The wine sloshed slightly as it was decanted into the chalice, the red pool almost black in the dark. She stared at it; a moment's hesitation. She could hear her father's voice from the long-ago days of her childhood, chiding her for any tiny misbehaviour in such a holy place. How his face would run pale to see her now. And yet, the wine slid down her throat as smoothly as any other.

"What would God say?" A Scottish accent rang out from the far end of the aisle, Jock's voice growing steadily familiar to her as their days of proximity ticked by.

His arrival had startled her. She didn't let it reach her expression. "Well are you gonna tell him?" Luca glanced back over her shoulder, offering a smirk.

He chuckled, a slight grin parting his lips. "Not if you share." Letting out a snort, she held out the bottle to him, using her free hand to lift the chalice to her lips again.

A yawn escaped Luca between sips, raising a hand to cover her mouth as her eyes screwed tightly shut. Jock shot her a smile as he stepped up to the altar beside her, accepting the drink.

"Not celebrating?" He asked after a long swig.

"Not 'til he's dead."

"Atta girl," Jock grunted with a nod of approval as Luca rolled her eyes, unable to stop the hint of a smile breaking out across her expression.

She wouldn't tell him why the fire that burnt inside her was different - why it couldn't be dimmed by something as fragile as progress, why the inferno would never lose its heat until the object of her hate was dead and buried. She wouldn't be known by him. Not like that. Not even when he gave her that look and she felt her resolve weaken for a moment. Even when she wasn't looking, her gaze wandering across the dimly lit pews and the glint of moonlight through stained glass, she knew he was staring. He often was - Luca wasn't quite sure if he couldn't tell or if he just didn't care, heedlessness and over-confidence both equally characteristic.

"Yunno," He said. "Your friends don't like me, I reckon."

"Really?" Luca gasped sarcastically, leaning back on her elbows against the altar. He snorted at her tone, a bubble of honest laughter popping in her throat, the sound echoing against the arched ceiling above.

"They don't think you're serious," She shrugged.

"They might be onto somethin' there."

Luca dug a tooth into the inside of her lip. "You wanna know what I think of you?"

Jock's brow arched, beginning to grin. "Oh, aye - now I do."

"I think I could put any woman within a hundred-mile radius in front of you right now and you'd flirt with her. Because you don't care about who's attached to a nice pair of legs."

"Okay, that's…" He paused to think for a moment, taking a sip of wine. "That's not entirely untrue," Luca snorted at the confession, his grin widening. "-But! I resent the accusation that I only flirt with you for your legs. Haven't even seen 'em - your trousers are too baggy."

She laughed again. "So you admit you've been flirting with me."

"I think we're past denying that, love."

Sucking in a long, deep breath, Luca nodded slowly. Eyes fluttering shut, she tilted the chalice, the remainder of her wine sliding down her throat in a single gulp, metal cold against her bottom lip. When she reopened her eyes, Jock was staring. Again. More blatantly than ever.

"You have a real staring problem."

He shrugged. "Not a problem. I can stop."

Luca's brow arched in challenge. "You sure about that?"

"Aye," Jock nodded, smirking as he lifted the bottle to refill her cup. "Just don't wanna."

[kestrel-of-herran]

it's so sad that the innies think the outies have all this life and freedom that has been denied to them and meanwhile mark is a depressed alcoholic who lives only in dim lighting, helena cuts eggs in pieces so small the fork shouldn't be able to lift them to her mouth, dylan and gretchen's marriage is desintegrating, all irving has is black coffee and black paint and the black hole of vengeance that wants to swallow him whole... it's just so fucking sad they have the physical means to reach for and grasp all the happiness denied to the innies and they still can't. they're too damaged to. they've drawn a chalk circle of hell around themselves and they never step out of it. the innies' lust for life is the only thing that will help them break the cycle. we can't, we can't, i'm ready, we can't, i'm ready, i'm ready, i'm ready.

[cicimellie]

severance continues to get wilder. gretchen cheats on her husband with her husband; don't let her husband find out! ham-based throuple gets significantly more ominous. helena convinced mentioning local depressed alcoholic widower's dead wife by the wrong name is a surefire way to get him to need her carnally. somewhere markhelly is wasting company time getting freaky under a table. milchick beefs with child and paperclips.

[terrestrialnoob]

Continuation from Part 1

Jazz took a deep breath. It's going to be fine. She can be normal for one night. Even if Harley is willing to befriend weirdos on a whim she doubted anyone else would. The shadow beneath her feed rolled like boiling tar and emotions that weren't hers poked at her mind.

"It's okay, Jet. They're not going to hurt me. I'm just... nervous."

She took another deep breath, she'd been told to ignore the closed sign, and entered the Coal Mine. She wasn't sure what she was expecting with a name like that, but it looked like a normal, if kinda rustic bar. It was empty except for a blonde woman in the back of the room, setting up a big table with food and drinks.

"Sorry, we're closed to the pub-" She started speaking before she looked up, stopping once she saw Jazz. "Oh! You must be Jazz, Harley's new friend.... You're early."

Jazz's face turned a little red but she stomped down her unease. "Yep! That's me. Early bird Jazz."

The blonde woman laughed wholeheartedly, but Jazz didn't think her joke was that funny. The woman walked over to her, "I'm Dinah, welcome to my bar. I don't often host girls night, but you got lucky."

Jazz shook her offered hand. "It's a nice place!" Though, Jazz didn't really go to bars. She didn't drink a lot and bars weren't really her scene.

"Feel free to grab a snack, grab a drink. I'm going to finish getting ready. Everyone else tends to be late. Which I guess means you're not early, you're here when we asked you."

"Oh, alright! I'll remember to be late next time." Why did she say that? That's so stupid and rude.... But Dinah laughed again. "Right, um, if it's okay, I did bring something." Jazz offered the plastic bag she decided to reuse with a tray of fudge she made inside it.

"Oh, that looks good. I'll go get a knife and plate to set it out with the other snacks."

Jazz more or less sat in awkward silence as Dinah did her thing getting ready. She wanted to offer to help, but this is Dinah's bar. If anyone else was there, Jazz wouldn't feel the need to help, and she didn't want to get in the way. But this was a private party, so maybe Jazz should offer to help. Just to carry stuff to the table or-

Then the door opened again and two women came through. One was in an expensive looking leather jacket and with short brown hair and the other had a cheap looking leather jacket with long brown hair. The short haired woman started talking before she was even all the way through the door. "Dinah, you would not believe how bad traffic is downtown today. An entire hour to get from 19th to- oh, hello."

Jazz jumped to her feet when the woman addressed her. "Hi, I'm Jazz."

"Selina." She said with a raised eyebrow.

"Harley invited her." The long haired woman said. "You really should read the texts."

"I don't want to set a precedent."

"Still." The long haired woman nodded towards Jazz. "Name's Helena."

"It's nice to meet you." Jazz said with a smile, but it started to slip at the sight of Selina.

Selina gave her a hard look, sizing her up, judging. "You're Harley's friend?"

Jazz rubbed the back of her neck nervously. "She's been to my apartment... and invited me here."

There was a beat of silence before Selina gave an amused huff and said, "You do seem like her type."

Dinah laughed again - maybe she was just easy to make laugh. The two walked over to the table and Selina's eyes immediately settled on the fudge. She opened her mouth to comment but the door opened again and Harley burst through, pulling someone behind her.

"We're here! I even got a special something for- Jazz! You're here already!" She turned to the woman behind her and quickly pushed something into her hands before rounding back to the rest in the room. "Heya Jazzy! I'm happy you could make it! This is my wife - Ivy."

Ivy stepped forward and eyed Jazz with more curiosity than the suspicion Selina had or Helena's indifference or Dinah's more welcoming demeanor. "It's nice to meet you. Harley told me about her little visit to your home. You look... normal."

Jazz knew her face was even redder than before. "Well, normal is the goal, right?"

There was a beat when the other's in the room just seemed to stare at her. Harley barked out her own harsh laughter, "Not here it ain't!"

"O-oh..." Jazz didn't have a frame of reference for this. If normal wasn't what they wanted, then what did they want? Eccentric scientist like her parents? Harley was a vigilante, maybe that's what she should emulate?

"Don't worry." Ivy said as she passed Jazz to sit at the table, a potted plant on a nearby windowsill suddenly, and far too quickly, bloomed. "From what I've heard, I'm sure you'll fit in."

"Harley said that too. I'm just worried. I've never had my own friends before." Oh, shit, she shouldn't have said that. Only weirdos don't have friends.

"Same." Ivy said and picked up a piece of Jazz's fudge.

"Here too." Helena added, and gave the piece of fudge she'd been holding for a while a curious look. It must be unusual for everyone to react this way.

"IS THAT FUDGE? I love fudge!" Harley said and grabbed a handful to stuff in her mouth. "This is so good! Where'd it come from?"

"Oh. I made it. Didn't want to come empty handed, you know." Jazz said, joining the other's at the table and taking her own piece before Harley ate it all. "It's my mom's recipe, but it doesn't quite taste the same without the low-level radiation."

"Oh, you have to put the radiation in it next time!"

"Do not do that." Three other women at the table said in almost unison. Oddly enough, it was Helena who didn't join in.

"Why was there radiation in your mother's fudge?" Selina asked as Dinah started to deal out cards.

"My parents are kinda mad scientists - kinda also mad occultists. All the food in the house was contaminated, and part of the reason my brother and I are vegetarian." Jack and three.

Dinah seemed to loose her breath before wheezing out, "Even more the same."

"What?"

"I'm also a vegetarian, mainly because of the environmental nightmare farming is." Ivy supplied, she bet conservatively.

"Right, that's why my brother's friend is vegan."

"Wait, how does the contamination equate to being vegetarian?" Helena asked - getting excited as Dinah reveals the flop, a good hand then. "Did it make meat taste bad or...?

"Oh, it brought it to life." Jazz said as she traded a card. "I can't tell you how many reanimated headless turkeys and chickens I had to kill. Not to mention the hotdogs Dad trained to attack intruders, they also attacked friends and visitors too. That was too much, even for Spike."

"Holy shit, that's amazing." Harley said while Ivy and Selina looked horrified, Dinah was as entertained as Harley, and Helena was enjoying herself. "Can't say I've ever fought reanimated deli meats."

"Bruce has." Selina commented, and directed at Jazz, "My long-term boyfriend. Thought about marrying him for a little while, but it didn't really suit either of our lifestyles."

No animosity, only relief. Jazz smiled at her, "Different people have different needs. Not everyone needs to be married with children."

Dinah laughed, "And boy, does Bruce have children! How many does he have now? Six? Seven? I thought I read on the news he's got a new one."

"Technically yes, but he's just fostering Duke, not adopting. Once his parents are well again, he'll want to go home." Selina saw Jazz's curious face, but deflected to lighter gossip. "I'm not the motherly type, not that I'd be cruel to any kids I could possibly have especially if they're Bruce's-" She sighed "-but Bruce lives for his kids. He has four adopted children, one biological child from another woman - it's fine, we both have our fun - and two foster children.... I think."

"You're not sure?" Helena questioned. Dinah put out another card.

"I think Steph is a foster, but I never saw the paperwork for it. At the very least, she's living in his house." Selina said, then stared at Ivy. "Not getting lucky, dear?"

Ivy sneered and put her cards down. "I don't even know why I agree to this game."

"Is it the one game all night, or do you do other stuff?" Jazz asked. She's good at poker. Between her enhanced empathy and psychology degree, she was rarely fooled.

"Depends on the place. Dinah likes poker, so we play it when she hosts." Helena said, she looked at Jazz, then Harley and folded her cards. "And we quit when Harley wins all our money and play something else."

"That's right baby!" Harley cheered and slammed her cards face up on the table, "No one beats the Harley!"

Jazz and Selina put their cards down too, face up.

"I guess there are exceptions..." Harley said with a mischievous grin.

Selina grinned too, "Someone has to loose all of Bruce's money."

Jazz grinned as the pot was pushed her direction. "Well, then let me know when it gets boring of just me and Harley playing."

The entire table laughed. Yeah, Jazz was starting to feel like she really would fit in here.

[not-another-robin]

Im thinking about Helena and old(er) Alfred... pap pap and grandbaby

[autisticrosewilson]

You're all fucking wrong about Catholic Jason he wouldn't feel guilt about Jack shit, ESPECIALLY not killing. He would get the All-Blades and be convinced that this is God's go ahead and divine confirmation that he's right about everything and all of his opinions are valid and everyone who opposes his worldview is a moron blinded by idealism and naivete.

[awanderingtortoise]

Outie Mark's VERY genuine 'what the fuck?' after recieving a vision of himself tenderly sharing vessels with what appears to be Helena Eagan is some of the funniest shit to ever hit TV

[havendance]

I have to offer: AU snippet where Tim travels back in time to Knightfall and bothers Helena about it :)

Helena's apartment had been invaded. There was a cape hanging over the back of her couch, a pair of boots tossed haphazardly on the floor, and curled up on her couch balancing a laptop at an uncomfortable looking angle with an open bag of chips next to him, was a familiar teenage boy in green tights and a sweatshirt.

She set her groceries down on the counter "What," she said, "are you doing here?"

Robin looked up. "Helena!" he said with far too much enthusiasm for someone she teamed up with once and who was now acting far too comfortable in her space. "It's a long story." He wasn't, she noticed, wearing his mask this time.

The show of trust was appreciated, she had to admit. The showing up without warning was not. Helena crossed her arms and gave him the do you want to try that again look she'd perfected on her students.

He grinned back, unphased.

"My apartment is not a clubhouse, kid."

"I'm here for business," he said, unconvincingly. "I have a proposal."

"Which is?"

"How would you like to become Batman?"

"Excuse me?"

He had a whole presentation prepared, it turned out. Apparently that was what he'd been doing while eating her chips.

"Sorry," he said unconvincingly when she pointed this out.

Helena sighed. "Just show me this presentation."

"You know what happened to Batman," Robin said. In case she didn't remember, the first slide had the picture of Batman being tossed down into the streets by Bane that every news station had been running for the past week.

Helena nodded. "Yes."

"Well that left Gotham in a bit of a mess..."

Point 1 of Robin's argument: Gotham needed Batman. This was argued with a fervent sense of bone deep conviction on Robin's part and also graphs. Lots of graphs.

"I get it," Helena said, after he'd been talking for at least five minutes. "I think you can move on."

He made a face at her, but skipped past at least half a dozen more graphs to get to point 2: Batman's chosen replacement sucked for reasons including assassin brainwashing, not listening, and also more graphs of predicted casualty reports.

"Where did this data come from?" she asked, looking closer. There were some awfully specific points on that graph...

Robin skipped forward. "Not important. Just trust me on this," he said, sounding untrustworthy.

"So why me?" she asked when he finally got to the end.

"I can't take down Azrael on my own," he said, "and it's not like I can put on the Batsuit on afterwards either."

Helena waved a hand dismissively. "That much was clear, but why not someone more trustworthy."

"I trust you," Robin said without hesitating which was both endearing and also a little intimidating.

"But what about that Nightwing guy? Wouldn't he make a better choice."

For the first time that evening, Robin dimmed slightly. He looked away, an unreadable expression on his face. "Nightwing's... complicated," he said. And then, lighter again: "And maybe I want to make Batman sweat a little after ditching me with Azrael. Come on, it'll be fun. Please?" he added when she didn't say anything.

He made a very tempting case was the thing. Helena doubted that it would be as easy as he made it out to be, but it would be fun to mess with the real? former? Batman some.

"If we're doing this, does this mean I get to know who I'm partnering with?" she asked.

"Tim," Robin said, far easier than she was expecting. "Tim Drake. We have a deal then?" He stuck out a hand.

Helena shook. "We have a deal."

[helena-edits-in-real-time]

Coffee & Cigarettes

Michelle meets Neil McCauley after everything has fallen apart. He's far removed from her past and her work and all of the things she's trying to forget, for which she is grateful. But when Habib Marwan threatens the safety of Los Angeles, Neil becomes an all-too-key figure of her present, too.

Chapter 1

[bobfloydsbabe]

make the tables turn (the rewrite) | jake seresin x oc

a turning tables fic

SUMMARY: Jake goes in for a routine physical, but is shocked to learn that his doctor is Jasmine Lane—the woman he tried to take home the night before.

WARNINGS: Getting weighed, inaccurate medical stuff. strictly 18+/minors dni.

WORD COUNT: 2.2k

A/N: I decided to not take down the original chapters of Turning Tables, so you can still find the fic in its original iteration. It will remain up until I'm done with the rewrite, so you can still enjoy the story in its entirety.

ORIGINAL MASTERLIST | REWRITE MASTERLIST

“Thank you, Lt. Garcia. That’s all for today,” Jas said, putting a final note in his chart.

“Thank you, Dr. Lane,” he said with a crooked smile and did the last few buttons on his khaki uniform. He bid her goodbye with a small wave, exiting the treatment room. 

Leaving the door slightly ajar, she heard him speak to someone in the waiting area, wishing them luck. She glanced at the file of her next victim, confirming that the voice in the waiting room belonged to exactly who she thought.

Martha, the head nurse, came in to top up the supply of needles on the cart in the corner. “Who’s your next victim?” She asked and straightened the already straight line of needle packs.

Martha had become a reassuring presence when Jas was first reassigned to Top Gun. She was a shoulder to lean on and she listened to Jas’ rants about how much she hated prescribing fluids and rest to men who really should be able to handle a little flu without seeing a medical professional. Martha brought her coffee on their shared night shifts and told Jas to get it together when she complained about the long and boring hours.

“Can you please send in Lt. Seresin?”

Martha’s eyes narrowed. “Watch out for that one,” she warned and went to collect him from the waiting area.

Sitting in her chair, Jas tried not to grin at the prospect of the look on his face when he saw her. He had no idea he was about to come face to face with the woman he had failed to take home.

She heard him before she saw him.

“Listen, Doc, I’m in peak physical condi…” he trailed off, stopping in his tracks just inside the threshold of her office, eyes trained on her. Martha closed the door behind him, sending Jas a knowing look.

“I’m sure you are, lieutenant,” Jas said and stood, offering her hand for him to shake, which he took with a skeptical look in his green eyes. “But you’re required to be here, so suck it up. I’m Dr. Lane.”

“You,” was all he said.

“Me.” She let go of his hand and gestured to the exam table. “Have a seat.”

He didn’t move. He looked every bit as attractive in the fluorescent lighting of her office as he had in the yellowish glow of the bar the night before. The only difference was the accusatory gleam in his eyes. “You didn’t tell me you worked here.”

“You didn’t ask,” Jas answered and gestured for him to sit once more.

His eyes hardened, but he still sat. “I asked what you did for work,” he argued.

“That you did,” she agreed. “And I told you I’m a doctor, which I am.” She waved a hand around her office at all the medical equipment, then adjusted the stethoscope around her neck for good measure. She shouldn’t wear it that way for safety, but old habits die hard.

He stared at her. “You lied.”

“I didn’t.”

“Lying by omission is still lying.”

She shrugged. “Maybe, but you were too busy trying to get in my pants to notice.” His mouth flattened into a tight line while his eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Are you ready to begin?”

He grumbled a yes and answered a few routine questions. When Jas asked him to stand at the measurement on her wall, he did so without complaint. She joined him and brought the block down, noting the height on his chart.

“Have I grown, Doc?”

It was as if he’d flipped a switch. The sour mood of just a moment ago now replaced with an easy smile and a confident lilt to his tone. Jas saw it for what it was: an attempt to get the upper hand, but she had played this game many times before. He would have to do better if he wanted her to crack.

She met his gaze. “No.”

His brows drew together for an almost indiscernible second before he schooled his expression back into the unbothered folds of before.

Jas consulted with her checklist. “Okay, if you’ll just hop on the scale for me.” He turned to it, but she stopped him with a hand on his forearm. “Without your shoes.” 

He glowered. Gone was the smirk and the air of nonchalance he tried too hard to put on. In its stead was a seething temperament and barely concealed frustration. If she wasn’t enjoying this so much, she might have taken pity on him and stopped taunting him, but he was too much fun to tease. It was his own fault, really. Hadn’t he been cocky in his conviction that he could get Jas to sleep in his bed just the night before?

He sat on the exam table and undid the laces of his standard issue boots in silence.

He stood on the scale, and Jas joined him by it, adjusting it until it was even. She felt his eyes on her, assessing her every move and breath. Usually, her patients were eager to get this part of the exam over and done with, not keen to be weighed, but Hangman seemed unfazed.

“Alright,” she muttered, clearing her throat. “Weight is normal.” She glanced up, finding his eyes still trained on her. The smile had crept back, the corners of his mouth turned up.

“Do I have something on my face, lieutenant?” She asked, stepping away to note the weight on his chart.

“You’re beautiful,” he drawled as he stepped off the scale.

“So you told me last night,” she reminded him, grabbing onto the ends of the stethoscope around her neck. “But charm won’t get me to change your weight.”

He frowned. “I wasn’t—”

“Now, have a seat on the table so I can check your vitals.” He crossed the room to the table and sat. “Remove your uniform shirt.”

He smirked, cocky and self-assured. “If you wanted me to strip, all you had to do was ask,” he said, his voice lower than before as he undid the buttons on his shirt.

“Your undershirt can stay on,” she informed him.

He frowned again, but didn’t argue. He placed the khaki shirt on one end of the table and offered his arm to her, familiar with the process of a physical. Jas placed the blood pressure monitor on his arm and ignored the feeling of his muscles rippling under the surface of his skin. She could make out every corded muscle in his shoulders under the white undershirt, and her mouth went dry.

She could feel him watching her again. Jas bit her lip, concentrating on reading the results on the monitor, not the thrilling feeling of his attention solely on her.

“Okay,” she breathed and undid the band of the monitor. “Blood pressure looks fine.”

“No need to be modest, Doc. It’s perfect,” he proclaimed. “I’ve gotten many compliments on my blood pressure.”

Jas snorted, unable to help herself. “I find that hard to believe.”

She went to her desk to note down the results before moving on to listen to his heart and lungs. Both sounded good, and she was a little annoyed that his numbers were essentially the same as his last physical. Perfect. If there was ever any reason to hate a man, this had to be it.

“Right,” she began. “I’m just going to have a look at your ears and throat. Open up.” She placed a wooden stick on his tongue and shone a light down his throat. She shouldn’t imagine what that mouth would feel like pressed against hers, or what wicked things his tongue could do to her body, but the vision was vivid in her mind. Jas forced the thought from her mind and ignored the fluttering feeling in her stomach. It was the last thing she needed right now. 

After clearing his throat, she looked in his ears and found nothing out of the ordinary there either.

He really was in peak physical condition, and she almost hated him.

The Navy was truly punishing her. She had saved a man’s leg, and this was the thanks she got? Having to check high and mighty fighter pilots over for issues that weren’t there? 

Silently fuming, Jas walked back to the desk once again to check off the throat and ears on her list, then returned to Seresin, who still sat dutifully on the exam table. “I’m just going to check the lymph nodes in your neck, okay? Then we’ll check your vision afterward.”

He smirked. “Go ahead, Doc.” Jas placed her hands on either side of his neck and felt for swelling under the skin.

“How’d you end up stationed here?”

Jas leaned back, hands stilling on his neck. “Why?”

He put his hands up. “Good, old-fashioned curiosity.”

“It’s a long story,” she admitted, hoping the answer would be enough to discourage any further questions. She dropped her hands from his neck and walked to the back wall, turning on the light in the vision chart.

“Do you take any medications?” she asked, handing him the occluder.

He shook his head. “Make a long story short?”

“Not a chance,” she said. “Now, cover your left eye and read the line with the smallest letters you can see.”

He rattled off all the letters on the bottom row without issue and did the same with his right eye. Jas rolled her eyes and took the occluder back from him.

“Any unusual moles or other marks on your skin?”

“No,” he answered. “Tell the story over a drink, then?”

Jas snorted. “Not gonna happen.”

He hummed. “Alright, your loss.”

“Oh no. How will I ever survive?” Sarcasm dripped from her voice.

His eyes darkened, going from the color of sea glass to mossy green. He stood from the exam table and strode toward her like a predator on the hunt, and Jas’ breath caught in her throat. He stopped right in front of her, their chests a hairbreadth away from each other. He was only a few inches taller than her, but she had to crane her neck to meet his gaze.

“You’ll change your mind,” he said, voice low and sultry. “Soon, you’ll beg for my time.”

The moment broke.

Jas stifled a groan and placed a hand on his chest, forcing him to take a step back and put distance between them. “I think I need to refer you to a specialist,” she told him seriously.

He frowned. “What’s wrong with me?”

Jas turned back to her desk and picked up his chart. She pretended to study it, allowing herself a moment to regain her composure. “I think you need to have your ego surgically removed,” she explained. “It’s a risky procedure, but you should be just fine. You might even get a date afterward.”

Hangman groaned, running his hands over his face. “Are you done?”

She huffed out a laugh. “Not even close, but I’ll spare you for today. You can put your shirt and boots back on.”

Jas jotted down some additional notes in his chart, including his perfect eye test, as he redressed. She put the pen down and placed her hands in her lab coat while she waited for him to finish tying his shoelaces.

He stood, and their eyes met. A battle of wills locked in a stalemate. His signature smirk spread across his handsome face. “I’ll see you around, Doc,” he said and tipped an invisible hat to her, reaching for the door handle. Jas could acknowledge that he was charming without shuddering at the admission. Almost.

“I’ll count the hours,” she joked.

Hangman abruptly turned around and caged her in between the desk and his body. She could feel the heat radiating off him. He bent his head down, and Jas felt his breath on her lips. Her eyes darted to his for a split second, but he had caught her. She knew by the way the corner of his mouth turned up.

“I’ll be thinking of you tonight,” he said, voice barely audible. The implication was obvious, and Jas’ cheeks grew hot for the first time in his presence. She hoped it wasn’t noticeable in the fluorescent light or she would never hear the end of it.

He stood back, and Jas tried to hide the fact that she had to gasp for air.

“You have a nice day, Dr. Lane.”

He winked at her and exited her office, leaving the door open and allowing the thick tension in the room to dissipate. She was still catching her breath when Martha escorted her next patient into the room.

“Dr. Lane, are you alright?”

Jas snapped her head up, finding Martha and a bespectacled aviator looking at her with worry etched into their features.

She forced a smile. “I’m fine.” She offered her hand to the aviator, who shook it dutifully. “You must be Lt. Floyd. Have a seat.”

As Jas went through Floyd’s physical, her thoughts kept returning to Hangman, trying to understand exactly how he had gained the upper hand.

She wasn’t sure, but she vowed to get it back. Whatever it took.

likes are nice, but reblogs and comments are golden

i no longer have a taglist. follow @bobfloydsbabe-library for updates.

[fortyseveral]

burt not-quite-echoing his role in an untold number of lumon-backed murders by picking up irving at his house and driving him to the train station and buying him a ticket in order to disappear him to save his life. do i need to say it. should i say it

(endow in each swing of your axe or swipe of your pen the sum of your affections, that through me they may be purified and returned. no higher purpose may be found than this. nor any higher love.)

[sorrydetka]

outie mark and helena are so similar…… outie mark violating innie marks autonomy by creating him and then reintegrating; helena violating innie mark by pretending to be helly… there’s layers to this folks, stay with me

[harmonicpearl]

Something i don't know how ppl still dont understad is how OBVIOUS it is that no Mark is gonna outtake the other, no love (neither for Gemma nor Helly) is gonna outgrow the other. And it's not only a matter of if that is possible (it is, its a tv show) it's a matter of narrative and thematic ideas.

The writers have briliantly gave Mark and Gemma a 5-year marriage and Mark s and Helly a half life relationship (because even if they are very young they have known each other for a huge portion of their concious life). This balances the stakes and validation for each Mark, and makes their battle so interesting, because they are literally equally deserving. And since they are equally deserving, having one of them "win" would be contradicting that claim. It doesn't matter if you as an individual have a preference, as liking one of the Marks more (hell, i myself like one of them more, that's human) but ethics dont work like that, ego death doesn't work like that either and obviously the show is trying to say that. This opens two crucial themes to discuss:

First things first, this impossible-winner situation is the fucking dramatic drive of the show. I wouldnt phrase it as Helly and Gemma because they're characters in their own right, but Mark's relationship with Helly and Gemma is there to represent a battle of the ego and conflicted desire. I really think the show chose to make this a romantic conflict because, yeah who doesn't love romance, but most importantly because we are so monogamous as a society that it was the clearest way to show how these two Marks are different people. We can't fathom the idea that you can love more than one person romantically at the same time (it doesn't matter if it's true, it's the predominant thought of our society). And i think they use this aknoledgement of how society works and they were so right to do so because look what everyone is talking about. That's why im so really shocked that some people are trying to bend the laws and philosophy of this show to theorize which Mark will win or which love will he choose at the end. Neither will, and both will. And simply because narratively, thematically, thats the only coherent choice. One of the Marks "winning" or Mark choosing completely either Helly or Gemma, would destroy the very points this show is trying to make. The love for Helly needs to be a rightful pushing force just as equal as the love for Gemma, just as Mark S needs to keep existing as a foil to Mark Scout. The show is trying to say that (to put this coloquially) doesn't matter how shitty or brief or undeserving your life is to a system or to others you are deserving of human rights, freedom and autonomy.

Which gets me to the second point: This goes both ways. Because even if Mark Scout belittles Mark S's experience, lumon did the same to him when they kidnapped Gemma and lured him into severance. They are both being used. After all, i very much think this is a postmodern show dealing with the residue of modern capitalism. This is a show about the problematic and complex relationship between revolution vs establishment. A modern show made in the past century would have framed this as a straight up victim vs victimizer problem but this is different. Capitalism creates this micro-power relationships. Corporations expoit the white collar worker and the white collar worker exploits the cleaning lady. And even if they are both clogs in a machine, the white collar worker and the cleaning lady may have different ideas on how a revolution should play out, or even if a revolution should occur in the first place. And sometimes revolutionaries can have disregard of the lower classes in the name of grater good. With all the shipping stuff (that i also fully enjoy) we forget that THIS is also the conflic that's taking place between Mark Scout and Mark S. Even if they clearly arent aware of all this shit at the moment.

Even so, they, again, are equally deserving of happiness and compensation. And to put Mark Scout in the position of opressor and opressed at the same time is amazing. They both need to win. But how can they both win? Will they both win? And how would a win-win situation look like? This is why i think severance really is something else. I'm at the edge of my seat because i don't have a fucking clue how they will resolve this. But i trust this show to be better than simply make him choose one of his loves or make one Mark overrule the other. They won't do that, mark (jk) my words. Both Marks need to truly work as one, to understad the other's struggle and see it as equally valid and well, negotiate. Just as the white collar worker will have to negotiate with the cleaning lady if they truly want to make an impact should a revolution actually happen. Both Marks need to understad they are not the real enemy and even more, that the real enemy is the cause of this friction in the first place, a friction that only diverges them from the real goal. Helly's and Gemma's love is only the cathalyst to put in motion this conflict. A GREAT choice because just as the Marks, they too will have ideas of their own on how to navigate this situation, yes, but they will also have a say in the innies vs outies vs lumon conflict and well i think these four are gonna surprise us.

[haithhegimp]

AU where damian and helena are born around the same time and are twin robins who love their crime step-moms very much.

talia teaches helena a ton of martial arts and they enjoy chatting about history and stuff together

selina takes damian out whenever shes busting poaching bs or just generally helping strays and they bond and spend time with all of selina’s cats

occasionally people will see either pair together and ask if theyre mother and child and talia and selina ALWAYS answer something along the lines of “yes i am their biological mother who gave birth to them that is me.”

sometimes selina and talia hook up and damian and helena absolutely REFUSE to acknowledge it (step-mom from both sides LMAO)

ofc both kids love their bio moms a lot as well, even if it takes more for them to admit that (and bruce is SO jealous of both talia and selina the kids do Not fw him for all the fun stuff like they do with their moms)

giving full permission for anyone to draw for this au or add onto it (with credit to me pls) because i Need more damian-helena twin robin (and more talia x selina) content they mean very much to me