#I'm a junior in college and I dress like a clown

[dawgdayze]

as a classics/history double major that does not dress anything like what a classics/history double major is "supposed to" dress like, I am begging all of you to stop putting yourselves in boxes for literally no reason

I don't dress even remotely dark academia (though I tried to briefly when I was younger) and I still love my field of study lmao

I wear bright colors and fun makeup AND I study at the library sometimes! Best of both worlds!

If you want to dress dark academia (or any other style), more power to you. BUT! don't feel like you HAVE TO dress or act a certain way to study a certain thing.

[toomanyrobins2]

Forgive Me

Summary: An orphan all her life, Y/N is simply too old to remain at The Bowery Home any longer. That is where an anonymous patron has swooped in to send her off to college and all he requires…a monthly letter of her academic progress.

Based off the book and musical “Daddy Long Legs”

Pairing: Bruce Wayne x Reader

last part // series masterlist // next part

Notes: I'm finally getting around to updating this fic! If you would like to catch up and get more consistent updates to this story and others I would go to by AO3!

11th April

Dearest Bats,

Will you please forgive me for the letter I wrote you yesterday? After I posted it I was sorry, and tried to get it back, but that beastly mail clerk wouldn't give it back to me.

It's the middle of the night now; I've been awake for hours thinking what a Worm I am—what a Thousand-legged Worm—and that's the worst I can say! I've closed the door very softly into the study so as not to wake Harriet and Barbara, and am sitting up in bed writing to you on paper torn out of my history notebook.

I just wanted to tell you that I am sorry I was so impolite about your cheque. I know you meant it kindly, and I think you're an old dear to take so much trouble for such a silly thing as a hat. I ought to have returned it very much more graciously.

But in any case, I had to return it. It's different with me than with other girls. They can take things naturally from people. They have fathers and brothers and aunts and uncles; but I can't be on any such relations with any one. I like to pretend that you belong to me, just to play with the idea, but of course I know you don't. I'm alone, really—with my back to the wall fighting the world—and I get sort of gaspy when I think about it. I put it out of my mind, and keep on pretending; but don't you see? I can't accept any more money than I have to, because someday I shall be wanting to pay it back, and even as great an author as I intend to be won't be able to face a perfectly tremendous debt.

I'd love pretty hats and things, but I mustn't mortgage the future to pay for them.

You'll forgive me, won't you, for being so rude? I have an awful habit of writing impulsively when I first think things and then posting the letter beyond recall. But if I sometimes seem thoughtless and ungrateful, I never mean it. In my heart, I thank you always for the life freedom and independence that you have given me. My childhood was just a long, sullen stretch of revolt, and now I am so happy every moment of the day that I can't believe it's true. I feel like a made-up heroine in a storybook.

It's a quarter past two. I'm going to tiptoe out to post this off now. You'll receive it in the next mail after the other; so you won't have a very long time to think bad of me.

Good night, Batman,

I love you always,

Y/N

21st April

Mr. Batman Smith

I received your second letter and I confess I do not know what to do. The proud part of me wants to demand you take this cheque back, but the side of me that knows you are doing it out of the kindness of your heart is holding me back. You have never failed me in your support! I am no different than any other of your sponsees and you have never been remiss in your care. I will keep the cheque this one time but please do not make this a habit for I feel I will be unable to cope with such generosity.

Yours in immense gratitude,

Y/N

 

4th May

Dear Batman,

Field Day last Saturday. It was a very spectacular occasion. First we had a parade of all the classes, with everybody dressed in white linen, the Seniors carrying blue and gold Japanese umbrellas, and the juniors white and yellow banners. Our class had crimson balloons—very fetching, especially as they were always getting loose and floating off—and the Freshmen wore green tissue-paper hats with long streamers. Also we had a band in blue uniforms hired from town. Also, about a dozen funny people, like clowns in a circus, to keep the spectators entertained between events.

Barbara and I weren't in the parade because we were entered for the events. And what do you think? We both won! At least in something. We tried for the running broad jump and lost; but Barbara won the pole vaulting (seven feet three inches) and I won the fifty-yard sprint (eight seconds).

I was pretty panting at the end, but it was great fun, with the whole class waving balloons and cheering and yelling:

What's the matter with Y/N Abbott? She's all right. Who's all right? Y/NAb-bott!

That is true fame. Then trotting back to the dressing tent and being rubbed down with alcohol and having a lemon to suck. You see we're very professional. It's a fine thing to win an event for your class because the class that wins the most gets the athletic cup for the year. The Seniors won it this year, with seven events to their credit.

The athletic association gave a dinner in the gymnasium to all of the winners. We had fried soft-shell crabs, and chocolate ice cream moulded in the shape of basketballs.

I sat up half of last night reading Jane Eyre. Are you old enough to remember sixty years ago? And, if so, did people talk that way? There's something about those Brontes that fascinates me. Their books, their lives, their spirit. Where did they get it? When I was reading about little Jane's troubles in the charity school, I got so angry that I had to go out and take a walk. I understood exactly how she felt. Having known the matron, I could see Mr. Brocklehurst.

Don't be outraged, Bats. I am not intimating that the Bowery Home was like the Lowood Institute. We had plenty to eat and plenty to wear, sufficient water to wash in, and a furnace in the cellar. But there was one deadly likeness. Our lives were absolutely monotonous and uneventful. Nothing nice ever happened, except ice cream on Sundays, and even that was regular. In all the eighteen years I was there I only had one adventure—when the woodshed burned. We had to get up in the night and dress so as to be ready in case the house should catch. But it didn't catch and we went back to bed.

Everybody likes a few surprises; it's a perfectly natural human craving. But I never had one until I was called to the office to tell me that Mr. John Smith was going to send me to college. And then she broke the news so gradually that it just barely shocked me.

You know, I think that the most necessary quality for any person to have is imagination. It makes people able to put themselves in other people's places. It makes them kind and sympathetic and understanding. It ought to be cultivated in children. But the Bowery Home instantly stamped out the slightest flicker that appeared. Duty was the one quality that was encouraged. I don't think children ought to know the meaning of the word; it's odious, detestable. They ought to do everything from love.

Wait until you see the orphan asylum that I am going to be the head of! It's my favourite play at night before I go to sleep. I plan it out to the littlest detail—the meals and clothes and study and amusements and punishments; for even my superior orphans are sometimes bad.

But anyway, they are going to be happy. I think that everyone, no matter how many troubles he may have when he grows up, ought to have a happy childhood to look back upon. And if I “ever have any children of my own, no matter how unhappy I may be, I am not going to let them have any cares until they grow up.

(There goes the chapel bell—I'll finish this letter sometime).

 

Saturday morning

Perhaps you think, last night being Friday, with no classes today, that I passed a nice quiet, readable evening with the set of Stevenson that I bought with my prize money? But if so, you've never attended a girls' college, dear. Six friends dropped in to make fudge, and one of them dropped the fudge—while it was still liquid—right in the middle of our best rug. We shall never be able to clean up the mess.

I haven't mentioned any lessons of late; but we are still having them every day. It's sort of a relief though, to get away from them and discuss life in the large—rather one-sided discussions that you and I hold, but that's your own fault. You are welcome to answer back any time you choose.

I've been writing this letter off and on for three days, and I fear by now vous etes bien bored!

Goodbye, nice Mr. Man,

Y/N

 

2nd June

Dear Batman,

You will never guess the nice thing that has happened.

The Gordons have asked me to spend the summer at their camp in the Adirondacks! They belong to a sort of club on a lovely little lake in the middle of the woods. The different members have houses made of logs dotted about among the trees, and they go canoeing on the lake, and take long walks through trails to other camps, and have dances once a week in the clubhouse—Jimmie Gordon is going to have a college friend visiting him part of the summer, so you see we shall have plenty of men to dance with.

Wasn't it sweet of Mrs. Gordon to ask me? It appears that she liked me when I was there for Christmas.

Please excuse this being short. It isn't a real letter; it's just to let you know that I'm disposed of for the summer.

Yours, In a very contented frame of mind,

Y/N

 The atmosphere in the gentlemen's club was subdued, with low lighting and the occasional murmur of hushed conversations. Bruce and Clark sat in a quiet corner, their focus on the matter at hand - the summer plans for Y/N.

Bruce took a sip of his scotch before broaching the subject. "Clark, I've been thinking about Y/N's summer arrangements. I believe it would be best for her to spend it at Kent Farm, rather than with the Gordons."

Clark raised an eyebrow, a hint of curiosity in his eyes. "And why is that, Bruce?"

Bruce hesitated for a moment, choosing his words carefully. "It's a safer environment, more secluded. Away from the city, and she seemed to thrive there last year.”

Clark studied Bruce's expression, sensing an underlying motive that went beyond concern for Y/N's well-being. "Bruce, I know you well enough to sense when something else is at play. What's the real reason you want her with my parents?"

Bruce sighed, realizing he couldn't keep his true feelings hidden from someone as perceptive as Clark. "I just don’t think that the Adirondacks with the Gordons is the most appropriate of choices.”

Clark leaned back in his chair, his gaze unwavering. "Bruce, are you telling me that you want to keep Y/N away from Jimmie?"

Bruce's jaw tightened, but he nodded. "I just... I think it would be in her best interest. She's vulnerable, and I don't want her getting involved with someone who might not have her best interests at heart."

Clark leaned forward, his expression serious. "Bruce, you can't control every aspect of her life. Y/N is not a child, and she deserves the freedom to make her own choices. If you're concerned, finally speak with her. Don't make decisions for her."

Bruce sighed, a mix of frustration and concern etched on his face. "I just want to protect her, Clark. I don't want her getting hurt."

Clark placed a reassuring hand on Bruce's shoulder. "I understand, Bruce. But remember, protecting someone doesn't mean controlling their every move. Y/N is strong, and she can handle herself. Trust her to make the right choices and be there to support her when she needs it."

“I’ve already sent the letter saying that she may not attend.”

Clark snorted and rubbed the spot between his eyes, “I’m sure this will go well.”

5th June

Dear Batman,

Your secretary man has just written to me saying that Mr. Smith prefers that I should not accept Mrs. Gordon's invitation, but should return to Kent Farm the same as last summer.

Why, why, why?

You don't understand about it. Mrs. Gordon does want me, really and truly. I'm not the least bit of trouble in the house. I'm a help. They don't take up many servants, and Barbara and I can do lots of useful things. It's a fine chance for me to learn housekeeping. Every woman ought to understand it, and I only know asylum-keeping.

There aren't any girls our age at the camp, and Mrs. Gordon wants me for a companion for Barbara. We are planning to do a lot of reading together. We are going to read all of the books for next year's English and sociology. The Professor said it would be a great help if we would get our reading finished in the summer; and it's so much easier to remember it if we read together and talk it over

Just to live in the same house as Barbara's mother is an education. She's the most interesting, entertaining, companionable, charming woman in the world; she knows everything. Think how many summers I've spent at the Bowery Home and how I'll appreciate the contrast. You needn't be afraid that I'll be crowding them, for their house is made of rubber. When they have a lot of company, they just sprinkle tents about in the woods and turn the boys outside. It's going to be such a nice, healthy summer exercising out of doors every minute. Jimmie Gordon is going to teach me how to ride horseback and paddle a canoe, and how to shoot and—oh, lots of things I ought to know. It's the kind of nice, jolly, carefree time that I've never had; and I think every girl deserves it once in her life. Of course, I'll do exactly as you say, but please, please let me go. I've never wanted anything so much.

This isn't Y/N Abbott, the future great author, writing to you.

It's just Y/N—a girl.

 

9th June

Mr. John Smith,

Sir: Yours of the 7th inst. at hand.

In compliance with the instructions received through your secretary, I leave on Friday next to spend the summer at Kent Farm.

I hope always to remain, 

(Miss) Y/N Abbott

[doubleddenden]

It's just now hitting me that on the 9th, if things go according to plan, I'll be out of school. It's a feeling that terrifies and excites me. I hate academia and all of the psychological damage it has brought me, and I especially hate how normalized suffering physically and mentally is in college and it's just written off as lulz me 2 brah haven't slept in 2 weeks and my diet has been 5 cups of espresso and a bag of chips a day, sometimes fireball.

As much as I HATE that aspect, and the overpriced bullshit, the stupid and annoying football fans that herd in droves every saturday and take up our parking, the constant smell of weed in my dorm, the walks, and assholes neighbors... I still think I'm going to miss it a little.

Friends being within walking distance. Food being in walking distance. A living space that isn't too small and honestly big enough for me to be happy and feasibly keep clean, a different event of gun games or an opportunity to learn something new about a random culture besides your own, the oddly dressed strangers that look like they walked straight out of a randomized character creation screen, the weird squirrels and cats, not having to drive all that far for food or amenities, decent wifi, being near one of the best coffee shops I've ever gotten a drink from...

Most of all the small adventures I've had with friends and strangers. At this school alone I've walked with friends down nature trails after midnight and felt the uneasiness of a thousand eyes watching me that turned out to be one really high naked guy. I've rescued a friend from a girls house who neglected to mention she had a gun toting boyfriend. I've ran from clowns. A squirrel parkoured off my head after jumping out of a trash can. I've hugged coke machines and got free drinks. Hell I hugged a drunk dude and got free drinks. I've met a mega republican mechanophile furry. So many random puppies. I got lost in a military camp because everything looked the same. A girl gave me her number to piss off a dude that was catcalling her only to find out I got played in a game I wasn't even playing. I got Pokemon ultra sun an hour early with darth Vader. I got drunk to a Niel Breen movie. I pet an albino chinchilla. My friends and I got in an hour long fight about who flirted with a girl the most, then one accidentally catcalled the strongest man I've ever seen before spinning out trying to run away. The random clay things with suffering eyes just around campus. I once beat a random Team Rocket and Team Skull cosplayer on campus with a random girl on our 3ds's.

At my junior college my friends and I ate often at the sketchiest hamburger stand in the woods. It snowed and we all had a long ass snowball fight for however long we were on campus. Strangers just hugged you because you needed it. I used my knowledge of my step father's security job to sneak friends in and off campus after curfew. I punched a jerk instinctively after scaring me in the dark. I witnessed my friend get married in front of a chapel with an onion ring, and I was the maid of honor.

God I hate college so fucking much but these moments? The convenience? That's what's making all of it hard to let go. Most of all my friends I made on my own, without any need for another friend to introduce me. I don't want to go back home to the loneliness of the woods, and yet I have to. It's time.

My wish is that I get a job I can tolerate if not like, that way I can move in with friends somewhere and just try to take in that bit of adventure again. Minus the academic hell.