#helena writes

[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: ADD YOURSELF TO THE TAGLIST

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.

likes are nice, comments and reblogs are golden

TAGLIST: @blue-aconite, @sylviebell, @wkndwlff, @ryebecca, @sebsxphia, @rhettabbotts, @lewmagoo, @ereardon, @anniesocsandgeneralstore, @desert-fern, @fantasias-creativebubble, @lostinwonderland314, @luckyladycreator2, @cherrycola27, @flashyourgreeneyesatme, @atarmychick007, @yanna-banana, @fandom-princess-forevermore, @gizmodear, @hangmanapologist, @thedroneranger, @soulmates8, @withakindheartx, @eternallyvenus, @kmc1989, @bcarolinablr, @memeorydotcom, @dempy, @withahappyrefrain, @bradshawsbitch, @daisiesandinvasives, @teacupsandtopgun, @laracrofted

[hesbuckcompton-baby]

Ok, so this is the MUCH REQUESTED addition to Chapter 8 of I'm Your Man, in which Rosie is forced to put Jill to bed on Christmas day. This one's for the girl-dad Rosie fans, I love you.

Word Count: 1.6k

Her fingers were sticky as they clung to the cuff of his sleeve, tugging downwards against his shoulder, the remnants of a hastily devoured mince pie lining her mouth. Rosie wasn't sure he'd ever been responsible for something so tiny before - so fragile, so utterly beyond his own understanding. The stairs creaked beneath their feet as they climbed, cast in the shadow of a single bulb, illuminating the upstairs hallway. Here it felt like stepping into the past, into a part of Frankie's life that she had long since left behind, old crayon doodles littering the wallpaper at knee height that no one had ever bothered covering over.

It was a motif in all of her childhood drawings - two stick figures, a huge man and a little girl, holding each other's little stick hands and smiling little stick smiles. Up ahead, Jill waddled into the bathroom, socks sticking to a puddle on the tile. She dragged a small box stool across the floor, hauling herself up by the rim of the sink until she could only just see her own face in the mirror, her reflection never making it past the bridge of her nose.

"Whatcha doin' there?" Rosie asked, leaning against the doorframe. She had handed him the ragged old teddy bear that she had been carrying in one hand, and he tucked it under one arm, its head poking out as if watching over the scene before it.

The girl's brow furrowed, looking over at him as if he were a fool. "Brushin' teeth."

"Ah, I see," He nodded. In her obscured reflection, Jill couldn't see the mess that covered the lower half of her face, and before she could raise the brush to her mouth, he stepped forward. "Hey, hey, wait a sec."

She raised a brow, tracking his movements as Rosie crouched down before her, their eyes at level height. Dipping one hand into the warm water she had half-filled the sink with, he gently rubbed the pad of his thumb around the corner of her mouth, wiping away the muck. There was certainly a family resemblance when he stood this close, the same brown eyes even beneath that crop of silver-blonde hair that never seemed to lay flat. Jill giggled, his soft touch tickling her cheeks, and he felt himself mirror her grin as he finished, washing away the stickiness from his hands. "There ya go. All done."

"Aw," The girl tutted disappointedly, craning as high as she could to catch a glimpse of her freshly cleaned face in the mirror. "Will there be more pies tomorrow?"

Rosie chuckled, folding his arms across his chest as he stepped back into the doorway. "I'm sure there will be. But not if you don't brush your teeth first."

Jill obliged, and he could hear her whispering through the foam that filled her mouth as she brushed away, quietly counting the seconds like she'd no doubt been taught, making sure she did a good job. He smiled, fighting every urge in his body to ignore the conversation that drifted up to his ear from downstairs.

"That lad's in love with you, else he wouldn't have crossed the bloody country on Christmas Eve to come eat old carrots with you."

It seemed almost too much to take in in a single moment - too heavy, too full of brilliant, wonderful implications for him to deal with right now. The only way to stop himself from standing there, frozen, hanging on every word, was to convince his mind that this was a mission - that this little girl on her wooden step, toothpaste foam running down her chin, was his only objective, and he couldn't afford to be distracted.

Jill bent forward, spitting into the sink, wiping the back of one chubby palm across her face to clean it. The floor creaked beneath her as she jumped down from her step, baring her teeth at him as proof of her hard work. Rosie narrowed his eyes, inspecting closely. "Open up," He demanded, authoritative tone making the child giggle as she stretched her mouth open as wide as possible, peering up at him as he surveyed the job. "Excellent job, soldier - we oughta put you in for a medal for this one," Rosie grinned, raising a hand to his forehead in salute, and a gleeful laugh erupted from her, echoing in the tiny room.

It was a short walk to the girls' bedroom, and he realised upon entering that it must have once belonged to Frankie's parents, sacrificed by her father to accommodate their growing family. The two girls shared a double bed, and Alice had already rolled onto her side, facing the wall as she read a book quietly, waiting for her sister to settle. Rosie uttered an apology as they entered, but she seemed entirely unphased by the noise as Jill clambered clumsily up onto the mattress, clutching her teddy to her chest. "Storytime," She uttered, whispering in the dim light.

"Ah, right," He nodded, and waited until the girl pointed to one of the books that filled the shelf on the wall. Rosie pulled it from the rest, smiling at the boy and the little yellow bear that decorated the cover. His knees ached as he crouched down beside the bed, flicking through the battered, yellowed pages until Jill held out a hand, stopping at the section she liked best.

"What a good choice," Rosie declared. Although the book bore almost no familiarity for him, it was clear in the wear of the paper that it had been loved.

Jill listened intently, blankets tucked up to her chin as he read, angling the book towards her so that she could see its illustrations.

"'Hallo Pooh,' he said. 'How's things?'

'Terrible and Sad,' said Pooh, 'because Eeyore, who is a friend of mine, has lost his tail-"

"Do the voices," Jill whispered, her voice so meek and tired that Rosie almost didn't hear her over the sound of his own.

"What's that, honey?"

"You've gotta do the voices. Everyone always does the voices."

Of course. He considered himself foolish for ever thinking he could get away without such a thing. "Oh, right. Uh-

'-because Eeyore, who is a friend of mine, has lost his tail. And he's Moping about it. So could you very kindly tell me how to find it for him?'"

Rosie paused again at the sound of giggling, muffled beneath the blankets as Jill lifted them to cover her mouth. "That's not the right voice," She snickered, cheeks flushing red at the hilarity of his failure. "Read a different one."

The book fell shut in his lap, and he nodded firmly, pitying Alice as she tried to ignore their chattering. "Alright. Which one do you think the voices will be good for?"

Her blankets rustled as Jill scurried out of bed, padding across the floor towards the shelf as she scoured the books, an expression of utmost seriousness furrowing her brow. After a moment of deliberation, she plucked out a new book, this one even more battered than the last, a rabbit in a blue jacket adorning its cover. On the inside page, Frankie's name was scrawled in messy, faded pencil.

"...'Peter never stopped running or looked behind him till he got home to the big fir-tree. He was so tired that he flopped down upon the nice soft sand on the floor of the rabbit hole, and shut his eyes...'"

Before he had managed to reach the end of the book, the soft sound of little snores alerted Rosie to the fact that his audience wasn't quite listening anymore. Teddy bear tucked tight beneath her chin, cheek squished against the pillow, Jill's mouth hung open slightly as she slept, tiny snores escaping her every now and then. A soft smile curled his lips, and he let the book close, slotting both stories back into their place up on the shelf. By the time he'd turned back towards the bed, Jill had rolled over in her sleep, arm outstretched towards her sister.

"You need anything, Alice?" He whispered, soft words piercing the veil of silence. Alice smiled over at her baby sister, discarding her own book upon the nightstand.

"Nah. I'm ok. Thanks, Rosie."

The floorboards creaked beneath him as he left the room, and he tip-toed to lessen the sound as best he could. "D'you want the door left open or shut?"

"Leave it open. Jill's scared of the dark."

"Alright then. G'night."

Frankie's father had already headed upstairs by the time Rosie came down, a gentle, content quiet laying over the house. His heart was beating so hard he could hear it inside his skull as he descended the staircase, the conversation he had overheard playing over and over again in his head.

This was good - this wasn't something to be afraid of - and yet he was. He was until he reached the doorway to the living room, and Frankie was lying there, sprawled out atop the pile of cushions and blankets he had called a bed the night before, staring at the wall, at her childhood self's attempt at drawing a rainbow without half of the prerequisite colours. This house was the beating heart of who she was, an altar to every moment of her life, an archive of a younger version of her. If he could meet her here, he could meet her anywhere.

"You're in my bed."

[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

[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.

[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.

[not-another-robin]

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

[thebramblewood]

Exciting news: I now have a story page and a characters page! They're pretty basic at the moment, but I'm hoping to think of some fun stuff to add later. For now, you might find a few new nuggets of insight in the character bios! I just wanted a cute little hub for readers new and old to find everything they need in one place. Let me know if you think anything (or anyone) major is missing or if you notice any errors. Here are all the character portraits. Aren't they cute? And thanks to @buglaur for the incredibly easy to modify template!

[raaorqtpbpdy]

Hey I’m rewatching Warehouse 13 and it’s actually good??? I originally watched it when I was like 12, so I figured it would be one of those things where upon rewatching it I would realize it sucked but still get nostalgia from it, but that is not the case.

Sure the effects are lowkey shitty because it was 2009, but the writing?? Especially for the female characters?? They all have depth, internal conflict, unique character traits, individual strengths and weaknesses, it’s amazing!

I also love the world building. Half of it is based in real history and half of it is fully made up but all of it is fun and engaging and I enjoy it immensely.

[dangerpronebuddie]

I Am What I Am Cause You Trained Me (5k)

"So it's all my fault Christopher’s first instinct is to run?" Eddie protests. “And Shannon's?” "Eddie, you enlisted," Helena says gently, but there's nothing gentle about it. "And Shannon ran off to LA," Ramon adds, oh so helpfully. "And I was ten years old when you told me to step up and be the man of the house because you weren't around," Eddie says, jabbing a finger towards Ramon. Ramon does at least look a little guilty about it. Helena, as always, is undeterred. "He was angry at you, Eddie. He needed his space." "Which I was giving him," Eddie hisses. "You didn't have to take him away for him to get a little space or time or whatever he needed." "He asked us to come get him," Helena reasons. Buck, who'd been quiet so far, steps beside Eddie and speaks, his shoulder brushing Eddie's in silent reassurance. "And you didn't think to at least consider trying to mediate first?"

[read on ao3]

For the @badthingshappenbingo prompt: verbal abuse

[necrotic-nephilim]

@sasheneskywalker i love when you enable me to ramble about things because oh my god do i have thoughts.

so recently, i made a post discussing the phenomena of DC x DP and DC x MLB crossovers and why they exist and part of that post was discussing how largely speaking, at least half, if not more of the Batfamily fandom doesn't read the comics. if they interact with canon DC material, it's adaptations that are their own sequestered universes and oftentimes not remotely comic accurate or seeking to be. the most obvious example is the Young Justice cartoon. i'm adding a cut to this post because it just got so long i'm so sorry.

a lot of times, when people are discussing the "why" of this oversaturation of fanon-only fandom, they blame Wayne Family Adventures. and i think, to a point, i agree WFA is responsible for a boom in this fandom. but as someone who's been in the fandom long before we had WFA, to me it's the other way around. WFA was DC's way of meeting the demand for this easy-to-get-into, easy-to-consume content about the Batfamily that predicates itself on the comics just enough to be vaguely the same characters, but has a more sitcom, slice-of-life sort of vibe so DC could profit off of this section of the fanbase that otherwise wasn't consuming its primary material. and well, it's definitely worked. not only that, but i have a weird theory that the decline in the MCU also led to the rise in the Batfamily fandom. when you consider the fan content that made the MCU popular within fandom, it's that 2012 "they all live in Avengers Tower and Thor is eating poptarts and Clint is in the vents and there are movie nights every Friday" sort of vibe. those were the fics that were a hallmark of the fandom. and as the MCU has strayed from well... quality content in general, but specifically well-thought-out crossover content where characters can have their own arcs but also exist in a wider story where they clearly care about each other, that fandom was sort of homeless. so where do you go, if you like a superhero found family where you can have villains for angst but also stick them all in one big family-like home for silly crack and have a plethora of options for gay ships? well. you go to the Batfamily. if you write a crack/fluff Batfamily genfic with silly vibes and low stakes instead of say, a fic about a very specific comic issue even if it's a popular comic, you're *going* to get more traction for the former. because the fanbase largely just isn't reading the comics.

and i feel... complicated about this. because on one hand, Don't Like Don't Read has been a tenet of my fandom experience. i'm very pro-fandom and that includes fandom content i don't like. and to an extent, i do think this sort of should apply to Batfamily fanon. i enjoy having my moments with other comic purists, giggling over exceptionally painful OOC headcanons or even facepalming in pain over some content but it is on me to not interact with that content. you don't make fandom a better place by being hostile to fans who engage with canon in ways you don't approve of. and frankly? we as comic readers are not going to get non-comic fans to read the comics by being asshats to them. no one is going to want to pick up any comic if we get a superiority complex about it. and also, i feel like we're all lying to ourselves a little bit insisting comics are so, so easy to get into. they're not. we can just all agree, they're really not. i've been single-handedly helping my sister get into comics, specifically Wonder Woman and no matter how simple i make it, i watch her get frustrated trying to understand what pre-Crisis and post-Crisis and New-52 and Flashpoint and all these things mean and what a retcon vs a reboot is and what a Crisis Event is and what the hell Diana's current backstory even *is*. sure, you can give someone a beginner list of comics to start with and slowly dip their toes in the water but sooner or later, *something* is going to confuse them. comics as a medium straight up aren't going to be everyone's cup of tea. and if someone *just* wants to read silly fluffy fanfiction about the Batfamily, i can't entirely begrudge them for not wanting to take the hours and hours out of their day to understand this medium. it's not an accessible medium to get into. "read this and this, but this run is out of print and this run wasn't collected in trades at all but also make sure you read that event in order and this is a good comic but the backstory in it is retconned and you *have* to read this it's so important but it's also really bad because the author kind of sucks" sounds. ridiculous for someone who like. just wants to read some stuff about Nightwing. sometimes, we all make reading comics sort of sound like a chore, not a hobby.

so my point is, i do extend some grace to Batfamily fanon for existing. i think my biggest gripe is, as i said in my other post, misuse of tags (if you're not creating content about comics, maybe you don't need the comics fandom tag on Ao3, just the all media types umbrella tag) and my far bigger gripe: when panels are taken out of context to support fanon only headcanons. if i could impart *anything* onto the Batfamily fandom as a comic fan it'd be this: if you haven't *read* the comic, don't spread the panel. if you don't even know what comic it's *from*, don't spread the panel. it's fine to use comic panels to discuss your headcanons, but so often i see someone spreading a comic panel from a comic they haven't read, and when asked where it's from, they can't source it. a silly example that comes to mind is a post going around, taking a panel where Dick, in his internal monologue goes "here comes the sun. do do do do." and the post is claiming it's from him getting buried alive. when that panel comes from Nightwing (1996) #140, and he gets buried alive in Nightwing (1996) #127, two completely different moments frankensteined together. if you're going to not read the comics, that's completely fine, but unless you're sure of the source and the context, panels shouldn't be spread around. i'm sick of this specifically happening to Red Robin (2009), with ppl claiming Tim has totally killed people because he blew up some of Ra's' bases, when those panels within context, make it clear he gave everyone time to escape. and in a later arc in that very comic, Tim grapples with the idea of murdering Captain Boomerang, and *specifically chooses not to*, because he doesn't agree with murder, even against the person who has hurt him the most. if you'd like to write fanfiction where Tim is pro-murder and has done some sketch things, i'm totally on board and would probably like to read it. but there's no need to pretend it's canon from a few panels you saw out of context.

beyond that, i think it's not *entirely* correct to say that fanon is harmless. whenever i see very WFA-positive posts, they often default to the argument that WFA is fun and silly, and comic fans are killjoys for not liking it. which. i think is complicated because the issue is, WFA and fanon don't exist in a vacuum. if you like WFA power to you, i don't think it's the worst thing ever, but i do think it's degrading to these characters because honestly? they feel incompetent in the webtoon. it's one thing if WFA was solely a slice-of-life sort of deal, just having silly episodes where Bruce is taking on a PTA mom or they're all fighting for the last cookie. but when WFA attempts to take on more serious plots with these characters, it *fundamentally* falls flat in understanding them. i get it, Bruce comforting Jason having a panic attack because a noise reminded him of the crowbar felt cute in a microcosm, but i'm so serious when i say that storyline destroyed how like. half of this fandom understands Jason Todd's relationship to his trauma. it doesn't understand how he reacts when he's triggered, what coping mechanisms he seeks out, and how he would handle Bruce comforting him. even if i can believe for a brief moment Jason *would* be triggered by something like that, him running and trying to hide and then getting a hug from Bruce to make it okay is just. painful. WFA needs everything to be wrapped up in a nice, neat little bow. so even when it starts to tackle interesting concepts, it makes them fall flat with its need to be soft, low stakes, hurt/comfort. there was a two-parter episode that dealt with the complicated mutual hatred/jealousy between Tim and Damian that *almost* really interested me because for once, it felt like the webtoon wanted to explore canon messy dynamics. but of course, it had to be fixed with one conversation and a hug. you don't mend the *years* of issues these characters have like that. WFA isn't in character because these characters are hyperbole cartoonified versions of themselves to fit within the medium and be a cute happy family.

because that right there, is the crux of it. the Batfamily fanon seeks to simplify the Batfamily and force them into a nuclear family. there are so many fantastic posts on here discussing how the nuclear family-ification of the Batfam is eroding decades worth of complex histories so i won't go too far into that. but what i will say is that there's this need, in the Batfamily fandom, for the Batfamily to exist as a unit. they are a *family*. (honestly i think calling it the Batfamily is a misnomer and has been for years but we're in too deep now.) they exist to each other first, and any teams or friends they have come secondary to this family unit. you can *specifically* see this demonstrated in what headcanons are becoming popular these days. i have an entire lengthy meta in my drafts about how i *loathe* the "the Batfamily meets the Justice League" genre of fanfic because it makes no *sense*. in order to have this genre of fic exist, you must operate under the assumption that no one in the League, or adjacent to the League, knows the Batfamily exists and are thus utterly shocked to discover Batman has kids. and to make *that* work, you have to strip *every single Batfamily member* of such important dynamics and friendships so you can lock them all in Gotham for their whole lives. Dick can't have the Titans, Tim can't have Young Justice, Duke & Cass can't have the Outsiders, Jason can't have the Outlaws, Damian can't have the Supersons, Babs can't have the Birds of Prey, and so on. because if they had these relationships, they would be known to the League. the Batfamily fandom doesn't care about this, it's just "silly fanfiction", it's not trying to be serious. but how can you say you like Dick Grayson as a character if you don't understand the Titans *are* his family? at some points of his life, moreso than the Batfamily even is. it is constantly repeated to us in most comics with Dick how much the Titans mean to him. he *needs* them to be who he is. the same extends to every other Batfamily member, most of which have been full League members at this point. but in fanon, that doesn't matter. the Batfamily are a sequestered unit first, and all of those side relationships are secondary and easy to toss away, if it makes your fanfic work better.

and because they have to be a unit first, you have these forced relationships that dump years of actual canon material for the sake of making them get along. the Batfamily fandom has its favorites and well. it's no secret it's usually the boys. Jason and Tim by *far* stand out as fandom faves so, their dynamic is a heavily explored one. it does matter that in canon they don't tend to get along and especially don't see each other as family. what matters is that you can push dynamics onto them. and so fanon gets all twisted up about which Robin Tim actually idolized as a kid (Dick) and what member of the Batfamily is pro-murder but still an older sibling figure to him and looks out for him (Helena, or if you want the dynamic of once tried to harm Tim but they've reconciled, Jean-Paul) in favor of who's the most popular. Dick, Jason, Tim, and Damian are always going to be the standouts for popularity, but it's specifically Jason and Tim who are getting fanonized the most. and that's because really, we don't have much canon content of Tim that *isn't* the comics. for Dick you've got Young Justice (tv), for Damian you've got the DCAMU, for Jason you've sort of got the Under The Red Hood movie, but Tim sort of lingers in this limbo. (yes, he's in Young Justce (tv) and Titans (live action) but in neither is he the main character nor given much depth) so, he gets a *lot* projected onto him and has become fanonized. and even with Jason's animated movies, you don't see him interact with Tim, so people build it from the ground up how they want to see it, disregarding of canon comics. i think it's what makes him so popular in the first place- he's malleable into whatever you want or need him to be.

and of course, the fanon ignores other characters in the Batfamily it doesn't know about. i feel like you could create a tier list of Batfamily characters by their popularity, going from the fandom main characters: Tim, Jason, Bruce, Alfred, Dick, Damian. to the underrated: Steph, Duke, Babs, Cass. to the forgotten about unless they're convenient for a story: Kate, the Foxes, Helena Wayne, Carrie, Selina, Harper Row, Maps, Minhkhoa Khan. to the absolutely unknown: Helena Bertinelli, Jean-Paul Valley, Onyx Adams, the Clovers, Julia Pennyworth. it's not lost on me that the ignored characters tend to be women and people of color. which is both a canon and fanon problem, DC will continue adding interesting characters to the Batfamily, play with them for a few years, then drop them to default to the "Batboys" again. and it's a vicious cycle of the fandom only caring about the "Batboys", and thus people entering the fandom via fanon osmosis won't have content about the other characters, therefore, they won't be interested in those characters enough to create it, and it's just this ouroboros consuming itself, no matter how much canon content we have of these other characters. and it's ridiculous just how large the Batfamily is becoming because of this, which is why i'm a pre-Flashpoint fan, because then the Batfamily was contained enough to actually feel like a family with every character having nuances relationships with each other, but i digress because those thoughts could be their own post.

and the thing about fanon is it doesn't exist in a vacuum. DC has started turning the comics to accommodate for what fans are asking for, because fans will beg and beg for content they're not going to consume. Tim Drake: Robin had Tim as a coffee drinker because that's the fanon accepted headcanon. and the resolution of the recent Gotham War arc was for Bruce to buy this new manor for everyone to move in and call him. nevermind that most of these characters have their own homes and have zero reason to be moving in with Bruce. Tim had his marina in Tim Drake: Robin, Dick has Bludhaven, Cass and Steph have their little side of town in Batgirls (2022), and so on. these characters are being forced together as a unit, as one big happy family living together, to appease what non-comic fans want and it's damaging comic relationships. Robin: Knight Terrors saw Jason and Tim team up and working together, which i've seen varying opinions on but i personally despised. their interactions made zero sense for any of their canon history, but it appeases them being this close sibling relationship that fanon acts like they are. also the fears they faced in their respective knight terrors didn't make sense for either character and *only* worked as a moment of bringing them together so they could reassure each other and have this weird dreamscape bonding moment. the canon is bending itself to the will of fanon rather than building on the pre-existing complex relationships. Tim barely even gets along with his most important team in Dark Crisis: Young Justice because it seems the only important relationships the Batfamily can have is with each other. and when we do see them outside of the Batfamily, it only seems to be to relive the glory days like with World's Finest: Teen Titans, instead of developing them as they currently exist. this isn't recent in the comics, it feels like you can trace it back to the New-52, but it does feel a *lot* worse over the recent years. WFA is fine when it exists in its own bubble, but the simple truth is, DC content never exists on its own. the adaptations will reflect back onto the comics. (the damage the Young Justice cartoon has done to some characters should honestly be studied) and so it does frustrate me a bit when fanon-only or adaptation-only fans act like we're being nothing but killjoys for being frustrated with this. since they don't read the comics, they don't see how the comics are suffering as a result of this.

people argue about what's out of character for the comics they don't even read. i'm sorry, but "bad dad Bruce" is consistently canon. that man is just kind of shitty. when you take someone who has the drive he has, who has this need for the Mission first, who needs a teenager in spandex next to him to keep him off the ledge, that guy is sort of going to be a shitty father figure. he just is. not on purpose or with malice, but when you compare him to any other dad in a big DC family, he sure takes the cake. it's why characters like Oliver Queen tend to *really* fucking hate Bruce for how he treats his kids. Bruce loves fiercely, but he doesn't do well with putting that love first. and his love is a controlling one, he is very particular about controlling how others in the Batfamily are "allowed" to operate. it's what drives the wedge between him and Dick, it's why Steph is never a true daughter to him. (besides the reason of her needing to be a love interest to Tim first, anyway-) i've never understood the massive outcry of people reacting to Bruce kinda being shitty in comics they're not reading. there are some moments that get ridiculously OOC with how cartoonishly evil he is (the whole Gotham War arc and that... complicated mess with Jason) but largely if you want sitcom loving nuclear father Bruce, you have to accept that is a fanon thing, not a canon one. the Batfamily being a nuclear family in *general* is fanon. most of the "Batkids" don't actually see Bruce in a particularly fatherly light and begging for moments where he calls them his kids or they call him dad outside of incredibly specific circumstances is just OOC.

it's getting harder and harder to exist peacefully in this fandom it feels like, if you don't comply to the standard fanon has set. i'm happy people are having fun with their blorbos, even if in ways i dislike, but that "harmless fandom fun" does ripple it's way back to canon, eventually. so i end up pretty tangled with my feelings because are fans at fault for DC making these poor decisions? probably not, but it certainly feels like an unfortunate cause-and-effect situation whether at the end of the day, nobody is happy. and of course, i know some fanon-only fans are striving to be more canon accurate and care about canon dynamics more than others, but for them it's always going to be an uphill battle with the above-mentioned out-of-context panels thrown around and ever-pervasive fanon overtaking anything that's truly seeking to be canon compliant. so really, it sometimes feels like we're all losing.

[littlespoonevan]

.

[bobfloydsbabe]

arranged marriage au | rhett abbott x oc | sneak peek

Author's Note: This story it set at the turn of the 20th century, somewhere around 1899-1901. I haven't quite decided yet, but it's important context for this story. Women did not have a lot of autonomy at this time, which is reflected in Rhett and Lou's conversation in this sneak peek. Is the timeline right in a historical context? Probably not, but it's fiction, so I can do what I want. Enjoy!

Release Date: Unclear

“Louisa.”

“What?” Her face is all hard lines and thundering eyes. Something twists inside him at the sight of her ire.

“I don’t want to own you,” he says and steps closer, dirt crunching under his worn boots. “Your life is your own, even after we marry.”

She shakes her head, tears pooling in her dark eyes, making his chest feel tight. He yearns to move even closer, wrap his arms around her, and assure her that he doesn’t mean her any harm. Despite not having a choice, he wants to marry her. He wants to build a life and have a family with her.

He’s halfway in love with her already. He hopes one day she’ll love him too.

“You say that now,” she says, tears in her voice as she speaks. “But then I’ll argue or refuse to listen, and you’ll remind me you’re the man and you get the final say. You may not want to, but you will own me.”

Now he shakes his head, disbelief coursing through his veins. It’s the most preposterous thing he’s ever heard, and he hates that she thinks that way about him.

“Louisa,” he breathes, her name like a prayer on his lips as he closes the distance between them. “You belong to you. Not your father or to me or to anyone, and I’ll do what I can to prove it to you.”

She meets his gaze, bottom lip wobbling as she tries to hold back sobs. “You swear?”

He nods, lifts his hands and tentatively cups her cheeks. “I swear.”

Tension hangs heavy in the air between them, and without thinking, Rhett bends his head down towards hers. His heart thunders in his chest as their breaths mix, and heat blooms under his palms as Louisa’s cheeks grow red.

Their lips are a hair’s breadth from touching when a horse neighs, making her pull back and Rhett’s hands fall back at his side.

“I should get you home.”

He offers the crook of his arm, and she weaves her hand into it, letting him lead her to their horses. Their boots drag across the dirt, and Rhett helps her up on Sally, the reddish brown mare that belongs to his almost wife.

He settles on Blazer, and they begin the ride back to the Kinney Ranch.

“Rhett?”

If her scent didn’t linger, he might’ve forgotten she was even there. He looks to his right and finds her watching him, maybe even with a smile at the corner of her mouth.

“The house is lovely,” she tells him, tone shy and withdrawn for the first time since he’s known her.

likes are nice, but reblogs and comments are golden

TAGLIST: @bobgasm, @attapullman, @cherrycola27, @bradshawsbaby, @kmc1989, @keyrani

[hesbuckcompton-baby]

“you look like you could use a hug.”

thank you to @thru00thepages22 for this prompt!! enjoy some George x Blakely <3

Word count: 962

Blakely was staring. Brow furrowed, he sat, frowning, at his desk, drumming the tip of his pen incessantly against the edge of the table. Since the moment he'd first laid eyes on George that morning, he'd been unable to look away, tracking her every move with keen attention. Dark circles ran rings beneath her eyes, and she was on what was at least her third cup of coffee. Even more disturbingly, she was distracted. If there was one thing George Aarons never was, it was distracted - she was the best, rolling out messages with such focus and rapidity that none of the Americans had ever quite been able to catch up. But in the last ten minutes, he had watched her lose track four times, tearing the sheet from her typewriter with a sigh of frustration every time she made a mistake.

Yesterday's mission hadn't been good. It hadn't exactly been bad - they'd seen much worse, taken much greater blows than the four planes they'd lost the previous afternoon. As far as Blakely knew, George hadn't even known any of the lost crews, all of whom had been replacements - a group she seemed to make a pointed effort to avoid. Yet there she was, clunking away clumsily at the keys, appearing utterly miserable.

It was almost startling how much it bothered him, so when she got up he made to follow, trailing a few metres behind her as she crossed the floor towards the kitchen, empty mug in hand. Reaching her just as George was about to make another cup of coffee, he held out a tentative hand, scarcely grazing her arm. "Think that's probably enough for one day, huh?" Everett spoke softly, gently prying the cup from her as she looked up at him with a frown.

"S'only my second one," George protested, although she made no physical effort to stop him.

"Uh-huh, well, that's definitely not true," He shrugged, leaning back against the countertop. "So?"

Sighing, she threw up her hands in surrender. "So what?"

"You gonna make me work for it, Aarons? You're fucking up all your work - and I'm saying this from a place of love, but you look like shit."

George sucked in a long, deep breath, and a spark of panic shot through Blakely as it suddenly appeared as though she were about to burst out crying, bottom lip pulled taut between her teeth, eyes welling up with tears. "Ssshit, no-no, hey-" Pushing himself away from the counter, Everett stepped forward, swiftly bridging the gap between them, his hands on her shoulders as he tried to meet her gaze.

She groaned frustratedly, wiping away her tears with such force that her hands left faint, pink marks on the flesh of her cheeks. "Jesus Christ. Stop looking at me like that."

"Like what?"

"I dunno... nicely."

Releasing a huff of laughter, he gently squeezed her shoulder. "You want me to stop being nice? That's a new one."

"Shut up," George tittered slightly, shaking her head as she gave his chest a kindly shove. But the moment her amusement subsided, her expression dulled again, and a deep frown creased Blakely's expression.

"Ok, seriously. You gotta give me somethin' here, honey," He sighed.

Looking up at him, she shrugged. "It's just... tomorrow's gonna be one year since Curt died... And I slept like shit, and I'm tired, alright?"

For a moment it was silent, the air suddenly hanging so thick between them that George felt like suffocating. When she'd awoken from the few hours of sleep she'd managed to find last night, Frankie had been in bed beside her, a wordless understanding of precisely what was happening. All she could think about was the moment she'd found out Curt was dead, looping it over and over in her head - she could still hear the beeps of Morse code, could remember so vividly the split second she realised what the message was spelling out, the report falling to her before anyone else even had a clue.

Wordlessly, Blakely stepped forward, closing the gap as his arms wrapped around her, pulling her into his chest. Without hesitating, George reached her arms around his back, cheek resting against his front, his hand against her hair softly holding her in place. She took a deep, steady breath, inhaling the scent of his cologne as his thumb traced back and forth across her back.

"Does it ever feel weird to you?" She asked after a while, voice hoarse and muffled against the fabric of his shirt. "That we're like this, when he was your friend."

"No," Everett uttered, without so much as a pause to think it over. She felt him shake his head, his chin brushing against her hair. "He'd kick my ass if he thought I'd let you be alone."

George chuckled. "Yeah... you're probably right."

"Always am," He nodded, squirming as she pinched him in the side as a silent reply. Letting out a laugh, he pulled back just far enough to look down at her face, sweeping a few stray strands of golden hair out of the way. "Y'know what I think?"

"I'm sure I'm about to find out," She teased.

"I think we should get outta here - take the day. Tomorrow too."

George's brow arched in question. "You want me to skive?"

"I'm just guessing at what that means - but yes."

She snorted, tilting her head to rest her chin against his chest as she looked up at him. Leaning down to meet her, Blakely briefly touched his nose to hers before pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. As he met her gaze once more, a smile was beginning to curl her lip, that glint he always loved returning to her eye.

"Fuck it. Let's go."

"Whatever you say, dear."

[helena-edits-in-real-time]

Let the Fire Catch Until I’m Back to Ash

Tony finds himself on the edge of life and death and makes a choice he knows he will regret.

Read it here.

[etherealperrie]

The Chart (pt. 1)

"...like a bullet in between your eyes, she is fully loaded & pressurized"

Shane Mccutcheon x OC (Original Character) | The L Word

Word Count: 1.8k

Contains: Queer OC | Reader is a PhD Student in LA | playboy era Shane Mccutcheon | "Solid" by MUNA inspired | Mentions of secondary L Word characters |

Warnings: explicit language, references to drinking/alcohol, and explicit sexual activity

...

The club is hazy, a cloud of nicotine blowing past her nose as she saunters through the door frame. She breathes it in, the smell of cigarette smoke, alcohol, and sex eliciting a near Pavlovian response. Jules’ body is alight with excitement, the stress and nerves she’d bottled up throughout the week in desperate need of a release. What kind of release, though, she’s not sure. Is it something or someone she’s in need of? It doesn’t much matter to her, for the next forty-eight hours she’s free. Free from the library archives and the incessant nagging of her professors and advisors. Free from the writer's block that’s been plaguing her for nearly a month preventing her from making any progress on her dissertation.  

She perches herself on a barstool on the outskirts of the room, her eyes roaming the sea of bodies before her, every one of them here to escape something, to exchange their stressors for a vice. 

That’s why Shane Mccutcheon is here, anyway. A vice. Her biggest vice surrounds her where she stands at the center of the club, her tall frame leant against the bartop, a pair of leather pants accentuating the shape of her body. She doesn’t have to move, women flocking to her side, whispering in her ear. She raises an eyebrow, entertaining their whims, her smile lifting seductively. 

Jules takes a sip of the martini she was handed, the dark haired woman flashing her a smile from the nearby table. It’s dry and Jules doesn’t like olives. In fact, she loathes them. She’d much prefer a vodka cranberry, something easier to get down. But the martini is free. And as a struggling graduate student, the martini tastes like heaven. She winces as she swallows, the gin burning the back of her throat, but she feels her body relax in the same instant. 

Whatever had been on her mind slips away with each sip and soon, the drink is gone. The woman’s eyes widen, her smile growing, an image of her and Jules flashing across her mind, but Jules is already gone. She weaves her way through rhythmic bodies, the bass pumping through her shoes up to her chest so strongly that she can no longer decipher her own heartbeat. And, god, it’s heaven to disassociate, to leave her body and mind behind and move to the music. 

Shane doesn’t dance. Unless a pretty woman initiates, of course, but even in that case the dancing doesn’t last too long before Shane finds herself in the club bathroom with the nameless stranger. Or the alley behind the club. Or a parked car. Shane’s not picky. 

So, she just watches her friends frolic around her, drink in hand. It’s the usual sights for her, she’s here almost every weekend with Alice or Helena or Tina but she almost always leaves them behind. Shane recognizes some familiar faces, waving to some and totally avoiding others. 

But a new face in the crowd draws Shane’s attention. Though, she didn’t notice her face first, if Shane’s being honest. It’s the sight of long tousled hair flowing like soft silk between exposed slender shoulder blades as she moves her body side to side with the beat. It’s the lights reflecting off of her nude back. It’s the way she doesn’t seem to realize just how magnetic she is. 

Shane knows she has to move. A woman like this doesn’t stay on the dance floor for long. She pushes herself from her perch at the bar, eliciting a playful sneer from Alice that she ignores. 

The world is a blur for Jules, every face and body around her morphing together under the purple lights of the club. She laughs at nothing and only to herself, high on feeling. The music shifts to something softer and only then does Jules take a breath, slowing her movements. She closes her eyes for a moment feeling the erratic beats of her heart, grinding her hips to the slow, sensual beat. 

She gasps at the feeling of a body close beside her, a rogue hand grazing her hip. Jules leans into the feeling, reaching back to grasp the hand and pull it closer to her, encouraging the stranger to linger near her hip bone. There’s a breath exhaled before skin meets skin, the warmth of the stranger behind her, holding Jules as she grinds against the woman. 

The touch is heavenly, eliciting a soft moan from Jules as she leans back, resting her head against the woman’s chest. She takes another deep breath, the scent of whisky and cigarettes filling her lungs. When she opens her eyes, looking up at the woman, Jules is met with a pair of hazel eyes shrouded by an artful mess of dark hair, framed with a jawline chiseled by god herself. Shane’s eyes move down to admire Jules’ lips and chest – her imagination running wild with thoughts of what she would do just to feel Jules’ body underneath her own – then back up in a quick second.

Shane lowers her lips to Jules’ ear, holding back a groan as Jules’ grinds herself against her, both of their hands wandering new territory, eager to explore. 

“C’mon,” Shane breathes, sending chills down Jules’ spine. She wouldn’t typically do something like this, but she’d been so hyper focused with work the past few months that she couldn’t exactly remember the last time she’d been touched. She craves it now, especially with Shane’s hands on her body. She’s never felt so alive. Somehow, this woman she’s known for no more than a few minutes knows exactly where to touch her. 

Jules doesn’t protest when Shane laces her fingers between her own, a warm feeling spreading in her stomach as she rubs small circles into her skin as they weave through the crowd towards the back of the club, slipping through the bathroom door. 

Shane’s lips are on hers in the next second, warm and wet, Jules’ hands skimming the length of Shane’s back to tangle her fingers in the ends of her dark hair as they deepen their kiss. Every inch of Jules’ body is on edge, electricity running between the two of them, both hungry for more.

Shane breathes in the faint vanilla scent of Jules’ perfume, peppering kisses across her collarbones and back up to her jawline. She nudges Jules’ back gently against the door frame of one of the small stalls, bracing against it, her expression smug, drinking in the sight of the woman she doesn’t know but so desperately wants to touch, to taste. 

It’s here where Jules really takes Shane in, watching as she takes her bottom lip between her teeth, her gaze slipping down to the oversized white button-up shirt adorning her torso, the thin fabric making it abundantly clear she’s not wearing a bra. Jules swallows harshly, not sure if she wants to touch or be touched. Both, she decides as Shane leans forward to toy with the hem of her top – definitely both. 

She reaches underneath the hemline and eases the fabric up and over Jules’ head, ruffling her long tresses. Shane exhales at the sight of her nude chest, a moan escaping the back of her throat as her eyes rake over Jules’ breasts. It’s a view Shane loves, one she sees often, one she never tires of showing her appreciation for. She steps in, dropping her head to press a kiss to Jules’ sternum, but Jules stops her, placing a hand underneath Shane’s chin tilting her head back to look at her. 

“I want to touch you,” Jules breathes. Shane chuckles, shaking her head. It’s rare someone should think about her before themselves, but the only thing Shane can think about is tasting this woman for herself. That alone might be enough to get her off, no hands needed. 

“You first,” Shane asserts, her voice low, her eyes dark. She needs this, needs to feel her. Jules groans, her whine quickly turning into a whimper as Shane presses her body hotly against her own, kissing back down her chest. Shane sneaks her hand between their bodies, her fingers brushing over the button of Jules’ jeans. Her breath hitches and Shane smirks, popping the button open in one swift movement. Shane slips her fingers underneath the denim and lace, getting a real feel for just how much of a pool had collected between Jules’ thighs. 

A shared gasp escapes both of their lips at the same moment as Shane swipes her fingers in a slow, bold stripe, tracing a feather light touch up and around her most intimate parts. Shane looks up, a rush of adrenaline coursing through her from the feeling, from the sight of Jules gasping with pleasure, her head thrown back, eyes shut. 

“Fuck, look at you,” Shane sighs. She runs her fingers in the same pattern, eliciting another moan. Jules inhales sharply, grinding her hips, desperate for more. 

Three sharp taps on the bathroom door force them apart, Jules covering herself, rushing to the opposite side of the stall. She’d forgotten where she was, her focus on chasing the high and god, she’d been close. She wants nothing more than to finish what she’s started, Shane standing across from her still watching her with the same intensity and desire. 

“Hurry the fuck up in there!” a voice shouts, muffled behind the door.

“We don’t have to rush,” Shane says, closing the space between them again, her hands on Jules’ hips. 

“I think, uh, maybe I should go.” It’s the clearest moment Jules’ had since stepping foot in the club. 

“For what it’s worth, I really wanted to fuck you,” Shane sighs, raking a hand through her hair, leaving the strands perfectly rumpled. Her gaze drops to Jules’ naked torso, as if working to commit the image to memory. 

“I know,” Jules laughs, bending to pick her top up off the floor. She slips it over her head and squeezes past Shane, the stall door swinging as she steps through. Jules takes one last look at herself in the mirror, fixing the smudged lipstick at the corner of her mouth. Shane leans against the doorframe, watching intently. Shane considers for a moment, asking for the woman’s name, but thinks better of it. No point in changing old habits now. She’s probably only passing through town anyway. That, and Shane’s not the relationship type. She knows better. 

Jules turns on her heel and pulls the door open, her eyes widening at the line of women standing outside, each one of them glaring. 

“Tell Shane to fuck you in the men’s room next time,” one of them sneers as she pushes forward into the room. Jules furrows her brow, tugging at the neckline of her top. She moves past the line and heads for the exit, the name echoing in her mind over the image of the woman smirking up at her mere seconds ago. 

Shane. 

— 

A/N: Hey hey, if you got this far -- thank you! This is my first time writing anything for Shane &/or in the L Word universe, so I hope you enjoyed despite any inaccuracies, etc. I've been wanting to write for Shane for quite a while & when this multi-part idea came to me, I couldn't tell my mind no. Anyway, I hope you stick around for part two and even if you don't, I hope (for what it's worth) you enjoyed part one! :)

[annah-kitathryne]

Helena Bertineli ran so that the fandom could disrespect her and make Jason Tood walk. The absolute disrespect.

You headcanon Jason Todd to become an English teacher if given the chance? Helena is an English teacher.

You have Jason Todd fight for woman and children? Helena was doing that first.

You write Jason as being connected but outside the batfamily, where there are constant fights about morality of killing and the ways of being a vigilante? Helena was doing that first.

You have Jadon and Tim being wierd sibling dynamic despite orders from Batman or the others? Tim was one of the people who first worked with Helena despite what Batman said and they have a funny sibling like relationship. He never gave up on her, and saw the best in her.

You have Jason with religious sometimes Catholic guilt in your headcannons? Helena is Catholic and carries a lot of that guilt.

You want the cool anti hero? Helena Bertinelli.

My point is not to just go hate on fanon Jadon, don't mistake me, it can be fun, and multiple people can take up the same roles, but I wish the fandom would do more for the gals.

At least look up Helena, maybe read a couple of her comics because she has an impact.

Just Helena deserves more love than she has been given.