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fancyfeathers · 10 months ago

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Society of Protection (Yandere Bungo Stray Dogs x reader x original characters) (normalized yandere au)

Chapter Twenty One, Blood and Cards

(A/N- I apologize for the long wait and the short chapter, life has just rough lately but we’re back)

Prologue and oc intro

Chapter one

Chapter two

Chapter three

Chapter four

Chapter five

Chapter six

Chapter seven, part one

Chapter seven, part two

Chapter eight

Chapter nine

Chapter ten

Chapter eleven

Chapter twelve

Chapter thirteen

Chapter fourteen

Chapter fifteen

Chapter sixteen

Chapter seventeen

Chapter eighteen

Chapter nineteen

Chapter twenty

Chapter twenty, part two

You felt your body stiffen up as Ango approached you, your eyes glancing over at the doctor and her face had an “I’m sorry” expression written all over it. You internally rolled your eyes, you suppose it could not be helped. Dr. Stevenson put on her best smile and gestured to you. “Ango Sakaguchi, this is Miss (Name). She is one of my friends here from Yokohama.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss (Name).” Ango said, his tone dead as he extended his hand to you. You almost shook it but then your memory snapped back to William’s words…

“From what I hear you two have the same if not similar abilities”

If he touched you he could know your plans and previous conversations, so you settled on folding your hands in front of you and bowing your head. “It’s nice to meet you as well.”

You heard a hum from the government agent as he tucked his hand that he held out to you into his pocket, his eyes narrowed at you. You could could feel your palms grow sweaty under the gloves. There was a silent tension between the two of you as you figured out what he was trying to do and him figuring out that you know. This silence was broken by someone calling the doctor’s name and she was dragged off somewhere else to socialize.

“So what do you do?” You asked even though you fully well knew, better to be socialize rather than be suspicious.

“I do work for the government, and you?”

“Oh I work as a florist.”

“Your employment files said that you left that job a number of months ago.”

Your stomach hit the floor, had he been researching you? The government’s knowledge on members of the society should be limited, Dr. Stevenson, Victor, and Jane Austen at most. So the chances of him knowing you were a member of the Society was low, to him you should just be a friend of the doctor’s who was invited to this party like most other people in the room… unless someone told him.

“Well, I do mostly side gigs now, weddings, and what not-“

“I suggest you stop lying before you dig yourself a deeper hole. I know you’re a member of the society.”

You kept up your innocent face and began turning away from the large crowd, taking to the sides of the room. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Ango followed beside you, his eyes doting around the ballroom to make sure no one was watching the two of you. “Dazai told me about you after the Guild incident.”

You stopped in your tracks, if you didn’t feel sick before, you sure feel sick now. This man actually knew Dazai, most likely to the point where he would have no problem sharing details about others in his life, or there was a deal made, hard to tell when it came to the suicidal detective. You glanced around the ballroom as well to make sure no one else was watching you before you grabbed Ango by his suit jacket, and dragged him into the hallway. You glared up at him before doing a double look to make sure no one was there. “What did Dazai tell you about me?”

“That is information I’m not going to give for free. You tell me first, what is the society really up to tonight.”

“Do you actually think I will tell you that?”

“And do you think I would tell you what I-“

“Ango, I’ve been looking for you.” You couldn’t have been more relieved that when you heard the voice of William Shakespeare, who had just stepped into the hallway after you two. William smiled, looking at the two of you. “I believe a Mr. Taneda is looking for you.”

Ango sighed and stepped away from the two of you, right before he went back inside, he looked at the two of you, the light reflecting off of his glasses. “I suggest you don’t try anything, we will know.”

You and William stood there as Ango walked back into the ballroom. Then not a moment later, William grabbed you by your sleeve and began leading you away from the ballroom. “Hey what’s going on?”

“I just lied, I needed to get you away from them.” William’s smile and all but fades as he led you to the grand stairwell in the lobby of the hotel, which was mostly empty now, seeing as many of the guests were at events. “The auction was cancelled, they found blood splattered all over the displayed.”

“Who’s was it?”

“I have a hunch because Gaston’s communications went dark about forty minutes ago, right before the blood was found.” You felt like your body went completely numb, and you must have dazed off for a moment because the next thing you know William is snapping his fingers in front of your face. “Stay with me, it’s a shock factor, but knowing Gaston he will be alright.”

“What are we going to do now? What about Miss Jane?”

“I have the room number of where they presumably are staying, I am going to go try and sneak her out. Meanwhile you are going to go investigate the scene of the auction, figure what happened, and get that lot the Port Mafia wanted.”

“Huh? how did you-“

“Know?” William cut you off and chuckled as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a map. “I have been working in the organized crime business for quite awhile, and I’m an actor and you are not the best liar.”

“Oh fuck you.”

“Hm, I’m married.” William handed you the map and pointed to a room on the twentieth floor of the hotel. “That’s the conference hall where the auction was supposed to be. Emma and the others is going to be distracting our law enforcement friend, but I would say you have about thirty minutes.”

“Thanks, William.” You watch as William gives you a smile before he turns to go down another hallway at the top of the stairs. “Good luck.”

William stops to look down at you and gives you a smile. “Thanks, I’ll see you on the other side of this.”

————————

You made your way up to the auction hall. You slipped in and closed the door behind you, everything was dead silent, it felt almost far to quiet. You stepped down the aisle, between all the chairs, and put to the stage where they had the items on display, but most importantly the blood. It was splatted out over the stage, so you had to tie up your skirt so none would stain the white fabric. You slipped off your glove and kneeled down to investigate it. You ran your index finger through the red substance before bringing it to your nose and taking a smell and the pungent scent of iron hit you, definitely blood. You looked over the stage and then something caught your eye. You stood up and walked over to it, looking it over before bending down and picking it up with your gloved hand. It was a playing card it seemed, though some of the diamonds on it were off.

“You’re quite far from the party.”

You jumped up at the voice behind you, tucking the card into the neckline of your dress. You turned to see the blond man with the orange sunglasses and a long tan coat and a cap covering his head, Yukito Ayatsuji. You remembered him as the detective that William had pointed out that worked with the Special Division. He had followed you.

“You followed me.”

“That I did, good to know you can see the obvious.” He bit back sarcastically, he stepped onto the stage where you were, looking down at the blood at his feet. He hummed as his eyes landed back on you. “I’ll make you a deal, I’ll ignore everything I saw in here, which adds up to very incriminating evidence just so you know, if you do something for me.”

“If I refuse.”

“Well then, I’m sure the Hunting Dogs and the Special Division would love to see all of this.”

He was blackmailing you. You just wanted to punch him to wipe off that smug look on his face, but thinking logically if ignored everything he saw in this room you could get your hands on that book the Port Mafia wanted, but then you would be in his debt…

“So? I don’t have all night.”

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saint-starflicker · 1 year ago

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Nobody tagged me, I just thought this would be fun.

1. what was your writing-highlight this year? what made it special and how will you reflect on it next year?

I found out that I start whinging really loudly at 18,000 words that I hate doing this and I'm never going to write anything ever again—but I can push through that moment to a word count of 30,000.

2. what did not go so well this year? how do you feel about it and what is a positive thing you learnt from it?

Physical health. Got a new adjusted painkiller prescription.

3. did you achieve everything you wanted to this year? if not, how will you go about it?

No, but hope springs eternal.

4. what is your favourite line you wrote this year?

I'm more of a story arc person than a sentence person. Stephen King in On Writing said a complete sentence has a noun and a verb, and all my other more direct writing influences told me to choose as strong a verb as I can think up at the time of writing, so that became my autopilot mode and I don't really think about making showy, stylish, deft, clever yet unobtrusive sentences anymore (which is probably why I don't accomplish stylish, deft, clever yet unobtrusive sentences.) If a reader gets curious enough about the second sentence that they read it and then the next sentence, then I am grateful for my good fortune.

5. what is your favourite book/story/poem you read this year?

For all its problems, Jane Eyre by Charlotte Brontë. I think a lot of classics get a "summarized badly" stereotype around it until we think we don't have to read it because we got information against our will about what the story content is. "Moby Dick is about Captain Ahab going on an ordinary whale hunt for too many pages that describe the color white." "Everything Jane Austen wrote was about dresses and balls, rich people visiting other rich people's houses, and sassing a beau until he becomes a husband." I think for Jane Eyre it's "Mr. Rochester locked his wife up in an attic and then tried to marry Jane. She still married him because that's true love. These are disaster heteros, do not be these people." It really makes Jane sound like some wilting violet downtrodden by her employer's boot, but Jane has an almost decades-long extended family melodrama going on that Rochester doesn't have anything to do with—that I think is a more significant part of her characterization and those family dynamics are my favorite part of the book.

6. did you make any new writeblr friends? give a shout-out! if not, it's time to praise one of your old besties <3

I don't want to accidentally shade anybody by recommending that we maybe should actually be writing.

7. what are three songs you put on your WIP-playlist this year?

youtube

Fish in a Birdcage

youtube

Til I Hear It From You

I count the following two songs as one entry because they were on a playlist for the same story:

youtube

Nothing Without You

youtube

Between the Lines

8. what are three things you're looking forward to next year?

Writing original fiction.

9. create a meme or moodboard that captures your past writing-year!

naur

10. which character(s) turned out differently from what you had planned? how so?

I thought Claire Simmonds would be more evil in "Cross to Wear".

11. which scene was harder/easier to write than anticipated? why?

"Cross to Wear", I was clocking in the scene in which Peter tells his dad off, because Papa Simmonds was just...an empty husk of a person in my mind, and not even in an interesting way, as in if that cad and reckless child-abandoner was only just slightly more active in my mind then that would've gone more easily. As it stands, Papa Simmonds was a plot device, and nobody talks about how difficult those characters are to write because there's nothing in them to make any momentum happen. It's like kicking an empty soup tin can down the street in hopes that it will play fetch with you. There's no life in a plot device character.

Mikey versus the 1990's was strange because I got to the 18,000-word mark and I whined as usual that this was taking too long and was too much effort and I am so going to quit this hobby, and I didn't mean to retell the whole entire goddamn novel from the point of view of a background character who was very in the background like way, way in the background...and then I blinked and just under 26,000 words were written out to the end in what felt like less than 2 weeks. It took something like 2 months to get to 25,000 words in "Cross to Wear".

12. if your character(s) had their own new years resolutions, what would those be?

Get written. Bother their author.

13. how did you change as a writer? did you learn anything new? started to plan instead of pants? share your wisdom!

I got bitten by a Muse of writing nonfiction essays, actually, which was odd because I did not previously know that was a thing.

14. time for writing wrapped! what would be your top three used sentences?

(I hope I don't have that! Let alone 3 of that.)

15. time for shameless self-promotion! answer with a piece of writing you want others to see/read! (if you have nothing posted/published this year, any other year is fine too ^^)

I did finally get a short story (original fiction) accepted for publication by a new local magazine, so I'm happy. But this is my fandom blog for fanfictions.

#fanfiction #bare: a pop opera #fraternitybook #Youtube

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masschase · 1 year ago

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7 and 8 for casey and B for you! i’m really curious about the creator question bc i know you’ve said before you used to not “get” OCs so i’m wondering how creating casey and the others changed things for you

I kept the first two short, I really did! But the last one was too interesting! 🤭

Uncommon asks for OCs and their creators

7. What triggers nostalgia for them, most often? Do they enjoy that feeling?

It kind of depends. She doesn't feel much childhood nostalgia in a positive way. But there are glimpses. When she stole Phoebe's pecan pie recipe and recreated it on the ship, that was about the closest she got to childhood nostalgia for some time. Being wrapped up warm, too.

I think what triggers the most nostalgia though is just talking about Stilwater with Shaundi, Johnny, Pierce and to some extent, Ben. Like they'll make a little joke and it brings her back. It's unsurprising that her most positive nostalgia is tied up in her friends.

8. What were they told to stop/start doing most often as a child?

Anything that would ruin her mom's "keeping up appearances" vibe. Stop getting dirty, stop being loud, stop mentioning anything that might make people think we're struggling.

Stop getting distracted. Stop questioning things so much. Stop staring into space. Stop talking *about* space.

Accept your place in Stilwater.

B) What inspired you to create them? (&how did making OCs change your view of OCs?)

Ooh so I guess I didn't think I was 'creating' Casey at all. I just had a story in my head that fit Matt and The Boss. The Boss, in this instance, being my SRIV Boss I'd played as 8-9 years previously (parts of this story were cooking for a while). Their dynamic in canon must have captured me in some capacity when I first played, so when I had this story in my head I guess I remembered their dynamic and I was like yeah, that really fits them.

I already had the look (my in-game Boss with some minor adaptions), a good chunk of the life events from SR1 onwards, the voice (and associated voice lines), the attitude. I felt like her personality was already almost tangible to me by playing.

Appearance wise yeahhhh okay admittedly she looks a little like me when I first played the game. I was in the "just make the custom character look like you" phase. Hence the colourful dip dye in my head even if it wasn't in the game 😅 this is why she'll always be like way younger in my heart than my hc too. I never intended to a. get as into the game as i did, b. ship her with anyone or c. make any kind of fan content, but here we are I guess.

Her age pretty much comes from the youngest I felt I could make her and still have her plausibly act as the Boss does in SR1. Like I'm not going to sit here and pretend I didn't know who I was shipping her with when I decided her birth year(the day itself was purely for plot reasons). I was actually pretty surprised Matt was that young when I first found out but that's another post entirely 🤣

Anyway, I used anything I could use about Playa's personality (both from what I remembered and the wiki) to build up a picture, but that in turn led to more questions. When you're working with as much canon as possible you actually have a lot to throw in and explain. Why does she like Jane Austen so much? Why is she secretive about her past? Why was she so quiet at the start?

I also knew I had to come up with a name because while I intended to keep the Boss's name secret for most of it, I knew from the start there was going to be a pretty major reveal around it. My main criteria were that it be one generally seen as gender neutral to tie in with SR1, not mine, but still one I still really liked. One of my friends actually went by the nickname Casey bc one of our mutual friends just started calling him that- it's nothing like his actual name and he doesn't use it anymore.

I can't remember if I looked up and that game jumped out or if it popped into my head, but I really liked it, and when I found out it can be short for Cassandra I was set because I love Greek mythology names. I seem to recall I did worry people would think I was misspelling Cassie/Cassy but I liked it too much to let that stop me. If I knew I was going to be posting about her on tumblr, I might have picked a name that wasn't similar to my own, or once it was already decided, I maybe should have picked a different name to use for myself within the fandom but at the same time that would really confuse me 🤣

Obviously throughout the course of writing I did start to think about what had led her to that point; the before, between and unseen during games. Her family especially, I felt I needed to actually think about. Then along the way I just kind of came to points where I had to go "Oh, OK, what's her favourite dessert?" "What were her hobbies before the Saints? "How does she deal with the crushing weight of multiple deaths on her conscience?". You know, cute shit like that.

Point is, one day I turned around and there was a fully formed OC staring me in the face. She crept up on me. That's when I gave up on things like not mentioning her appearance and I threw things back in before I posted. I'm not usually that oblivious to things like that but given the way I started off the whole thing it just kind of happened.

Which brings me neatly to the other question. I did actually write fanfic years ago, and it was usually shippy, often smutty, but it was always canon x canon. I was never possessed to make an OC. I think I had one for some TWEWY RP that never got off the ground but I would never have used them in my writing for example.

I admit, I guess I associated them with self-insertion and wish fulfilment, which I'm not being judgy about if that's anyone's thing. It's just that it wouldn't be something that would appeal to me as a reader. The most I would use an OC for back then would be a one-off mention of a background character.

But when writing Out of Time I came to the point where I needed a few minor filler characters, still didn't count them as OCs. From there it was a natural progression to OCs with a more prominent role, I think Jenny was the first. There were story arcs that worked with them that just wouldn't otherwise, Mori is the best example of this, I love the layers of story his character adds. Idk if it's evident but he's my favourite non-Boss OC because he's just so important. 😀

Around the same time I was kind of accepting I had OCs, I started lurking on tumblr and I absolutely fell in love with some of the Boss designs here. I still didn't quite see them as OCs until I saw people tagging them as such and then I was like... oh. 🙃

Now... I love any and all Saints Row OCs. Love them. People's creativity never ceases to amaze me. But I'll always have a soft spot for Bosses.

#i have a headache that might be a migraine so i'm posting this then disappearing again :(#i just hope it's still coherent tbh but then i always end up hoping that #original boss did used to have a tiny moustache. i was mostly immune to the 2010s moustache trend #but not entirely.#in my heart her birthday is like 15th March 95/96 bc i cannot let go of my ides of march idea. not by a long shot.#at first for question 8 i thought of what her mom would hate most #then i realised it'd be more about what she did/didn't do most #anyway both works #casey as an oc developed for me the same way her love for matt did for her: over a long period of time and against our will 🤣#saints row #sr boss: casey clark #asks #thanks for the ask!

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umutisiktagiyev · 7 months ago

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Book Notes | Pride & Prejudice by Jane Austen | 12.03.2024

It was one of the best, if not the best, books I had the pleasure of reading. The book arrived at my doorstep on March 5th. I was halfway through “How to Live With Life,” so I told myself I would read this work later.

The next day, on the 6th, I wanted to glance into the contents, especially the opening paragraph. I had previously listened to 20 percent of the book in audio format, and seeing the opening myself, I couldn’t help myself. I was compelled, drawn in.

It’s been six days, and I am done with this book of decent width. Initially, it was 10-20 pages a day. The more I read, the more I could contain myself. It soon became many hours of my day dedicated to reading.

The story is said to be mainly about Elizabeth’s Prejudice and Mr. Darcy’s Pride, though it was more than that for me. The entire setting—the characters, the world, the interactions—was full of life and so full of charm. Yes, charm is the only word I can come close to describing Jane Austen’s style; her work is charismatic.

The story takes place in Longhorn, though the names of the towns do not matter. We are first introduced to a family, Bennet’s.

Mr. Bennet married his wife while young, though later, when he saw how foolish and silly the said wife was, he pulled away from the relationship—taking refuge in his library, amusing himself by his wife’s folly.

Mrs. Bennet—How can I say this without being rude…All she thinks about is her perception of others in her society who are middle class; unlike her husband’s family, her family has a bad background. She is a shortsighted, emotional, selfish woman. All she cares about is the optics and how they affect her.

They have five daughters, and by age, they are Jane, Elizabeth, Maria, Lydia, and Catherine.

Jane is a highly compassionate girl, aged 22. She is caring, self-sacrificing, and good-humored, yet she has the vice of never finding blame in anyone. She always assumes the best to a point, even when done wrong; she cannot fault it.

Elizabeth, the main person the story revolves around, is 20; she is wise, clever, honest, and frank, making her disagreeable in her time. She claims to be a study of character, is self-aware, amuses herself with the foolishness that she sees in people, is emotional, and, although to a lesser degree to her sister Jane, compassionate. While Jane is Fe, I’d say Elizabeth is Fi, for lack of better words. She is her father’s favorite. Jane is the second favorite.

Maria is hardly ever talked about. I believe even Jane Austen forgot to include her until the later parts, ironically, since the middle children are often forgotten. Maria felt she was competing with her sisters in beauty, maturity, and education. So she tries hard to be better, always studying, yet never really maturing. Her studies are the result of her insecurity rather than a virtue of a good mind.

Lydia is the carbon copy of her mother; she is 16 (the story takes place within 1 to 2 years; 16 was her latter age in the story). Being thrown into adult society from a young age, she had a taste for men’s desire and attention from a young age. Extremely imprudent, like her mother, she flirts with everyone; there was a dream of her in which she was to flirt with six officers simultaneously. She cares not for the men in particular, but their attention towards her is her drive.

Catherine, the youngest, was initially to follow Lydia around, and because of it, became like her. Later on, when Lydia is married, she becomes a decent character. There is little to say about her personality, as it greatly changes.

There is Mr. Collins, a proud clergyman and cousin of Mr. Bennet.

Charlotte Lucas, later on, Mrs. Collins, as they marry after Elizabeth refuses Mr. Collins. Elizabeth’s childhood friend. Lucas’ is a family friend.

Mrs. Phillips is Mrs. Bennet’s sister and the girls’ aunt. Her wife, Sir William, was a retired soldier.

Gardiners, Edward Gardiner is Mrs. Bennet’s brother. He is an honorable, intelligent man. It is a miracle that this family is even related to Mrs. Bennet.

Bingley moves into town, where the story gets going.

Mr. Bingley has two sisters, Mrs. Hurt and Miss Bingley. He comes to town with his friend Mr. Darcy.

Mr. Collins’s patroness, Lady de Brough, is Mr. Darcy’s aunt—the late Mr. Darcy’s sister. The late Mr. Darcy had a godson, Wickham, who grew up with Darcy.

De Brough has a daughter who is entailed as Darcy’s wife from birth.

Darcy has a sister, Georgina, Miss Darcy.

There are also many other characters that I am now too tired to write about. I don’t have to portray the story in detail, but the lessons.

I remember screaming at the pages in some parts and spanking my cat in excitement. That is how this book should be remembered. I remember yelling, “Stop edging me, Austen!” after five chapters passed without Darcy, only for him to appear suddenly.

The work provides a good understanding of the middle-class life of her time, which included some mingling with the upper class. There were a lot of balls, and people visited each other.

I saw a comment that said, “The book is about people going to each other’s houses,” with a one-star review. That’s like saying the story of the Underground Man is about a man getting angry at a prostitute and his work friends. Sure, that’s what occurs, but not what happens.

Darcy seems disagreeable initially, but he is an introvert, a well-bred man of virtue. He becomes the talk of town to be the worst kind of man after they leave with Bingley, as Wickham lies about him. He is indeed proud, to the point of pride. We will discuss this later.

Elizabeth, even though smart, fancies herself to be objective and impartial. Yet, she is prejudiced. She believes her conclusions are accurate; she studies and decides on people’s characters.

This is why their relationship with Darcy is good; the entire point of the story is how, in the end, Elizabeth is humbled by Darcy’s true virtue and sees her prejudice. While Elizabeth humbles Darcy’s pride, and he becomes a better man.

The story is about how companionship and love can temper the personality of the two parties involved. Changing them for the better, for each other. This is a conclusion reached by many before, including me, but it is a good reminder of the truth.

Jung puts this best:

The meeting of two personalities is like the contact of two chemical substances: if there is any reaction, both are transformed.

It is, beyond a doubt, a fact of life. It is also a good reminder of my pride and prejudice. We should always check ourselves for the vices we all possess.

I did like Maria, the middle child. She reminded me of Asuka. Her constant dialogues about morality were funny since she was doing it all to be “not like other girls,” while Eliza (Lizzy) would often roll her eyes at them.

The scene where Darcy first confesses his love, and Elizabeth goes HARD on him, saying how much she hates his conduct, was so funny and shocking to me. It was so sudden that I was on the edge. And when Darcy, the next day, comes to her with a letter that takes six pages of the book, I laughed even harder about it.

When Darcy was teased by Miss Bingley, who was envious of Elizabeth because Darcy fancied her from the start, she teased him.

“A lady’s imagination is rapid; it jumps from admiration to love, from love to matrimony in a moment.”

Who can forget the start:

“It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife.”

Elizabeth’s admission to Jane:

“There are few people whom I really love and still fewer of whom I think well. The more I see of the world, the more am I dissatisfied with it; and every day confirms my belief of the inconsistency of all human characters, and of the little dependence that can be placed on the appearance of merit or sense.”

Darcy, upon being asked by Elizabeth at the end when he started his love for her:

“I cannot fix on the hour, or the spot, or the look, or the words, which laid the foundation. It is too long ago. I was in the middle before I knew that I had begun.”

“Vanity and pride are different things, though the words are often used synonymously. A person may be proud without being vain. Pride relates more to our opinion of ourselves, vanity to what we would have others think of us.”

Elizabeth’s letter to her Aunt, Mrs. Gardiner, after Darcy proposed:

“I am the happiest creature in the world. Perhaps other people have said so before, but not one with such justice. I am happier even than Jane; she only smiles, I laugh.”

This scene was funny, Mr Bennet:

“An unhappy alternative is before you, Elizabeth. From this day, you must be a stranger to one of your parents. Your mother will never see you again if you do not marry Mr. Collins, and I will never see you again if you do.”

A glance, at first, at Darcy’s pride, yet it also applies to Elizabeth’s thinking.

“My good opinion, once lost, is lost forever.”

In this scene between the two, earlier on, what flirts:

“There is, I believe, in every disposition a tendency to some particular evil, a natural defect, which not even the best education can overcome.” “And your defect is a propensity to hate everybody.” “And yours,” he replied with a smile, “is wilfully to misunderstand them.”

Darcy’s admission on how Elizabeth changed him:

“I have been a selfish being all my life, in practice, though not in principle. As a child, I was taught what was right, but I was not taught how to correct my temper. I was given good principles but left to follow them with pride and conceit. Unfortunately, an only son (for many years an only child), I was spoilt by my parents, who, though good themselves (my father, particularly, all that was benevolent and amiable), allowed, encouraged, and almost taught me to be selfish and overbearing; to care for none beyond my own family circle; to think meanly of all the rest of the world; to wish at least to think meanly of their sense and worth compared with my own. Such I was, from eight to eight and twenty, and such I might still have been but for you, dearest, loveliest Elizabeth! What do I not owe you? You taught me a lesson, which was hard at first but most advantageous. By you, I was properly humbled. I came to you without a doubt of my reception. You showed me how insufficient were all my pretensions to please a woman worthy of being pleased.”

I like Darcy’s honest character:

“Nothing is more deceitful,” said Darcy, “than the appearance of humility. It is often only carelessness of opinion and sometimes an indirect boast.”

One criticism I have about this beautiful story is that it depends on coincidences. What if Elizabeth’s trip with the Gardiners weren’t cut short, and they went to the lakes instead of London? What is the likelihood of Darcy coming to Pemberley a day before while the Gardiners were doing a home visit? What is the chance of Mrs. Gardiner having known someone at the house to warrant the visit in the first place?

The suddenness of Darcy’s confession of love, though it is all explained later on, embarrassed them both. They couldn’t make a move on the other. What I don’t know is why Darcy is so madly in love, yet that is how love works to begin with, so that is not a point I will press on.

I like how everyone has their faults, especially Elizabeth. No one is a Mary Sue, though Darcy, the more we knew him, became a sort of Mary Sue, but it is balanced by his previous pride and claims of superiority.

Sadly, I focused so much on practical works that I had forgotten novels and stories. That still teaches you great lessons: the world, human interaction, perception, and emotion.

Overall, it was an AMAZING book; if I ever forget the story’s details, you can re-read it. I am ashamed that I have not read this sooner.

9/10

#book notes

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brahms4thrackett · 1 year ago

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I really enjoy your analyses! Thank you so much for putting the time in and sharing your thoughts, I always find something new to watch for after reading (as if I needed the excuse to rewatch the series 😆)

So if I can ramble a bit, I totally agree, something happened between 1941 and 1967, it’s one of my favorite mysteries to obsess over. When you mentioned Crowley going “too fast” and the missing apology dance together as both (hopefully) still to come, it made me think about how those are really two separate things that would seem to be pretty mutually exclusive (ie one doesn’t really seem like it would lead to the other or vice versa.) So our options are, the something happens after 1941 Date Night and we haven’t seen it, or it happened that night. No way of knowing what it could be or when it happened if it’s not actually part of the 1941 scene, so we have to work with what we have, which is to assume it was part of that night, since we’re all pretty certain we will revisit 1941.

So what kind of story would it be where they both occurred? The fic writer in me went to Aziraphale doing the dance (for trusting the Nazis and causing Crowley to have to rescue him? For making Crowley shoot at him? Some other gaffe we haven’t seen yet?) Their song is playing (because it’s 1941 and that song would have been on the radio for sure) and maybe Crowley is so charmed that he does… I don’t know. Something. A touch? A kiss? An almost-kiss? Or, since we’re talking Aziraphale, maybe something as Jane Austen-y as holding hands? Whatever it is, Aziraphale is receptive to it because of everything else they’ve been through together that night, but alas, they’re interrupted (zombies come for revenge?) and he panics all the way back to square 1.

Whatever it is, this brings me to thinking about Shax talking about them in the car, when she mentions hearing that they were an “item”. To me that particular word has a definite romantic/sexual connotation, but so far we’ve not seen Crowley and Aziraphale interact that way, especially in front of other characters. Working together? Yes. Trusting one another? Sure. But the reasonable jump from what we (and the zombies/Furfur) have seen would be to assume they were *gasp* friends. But an “item”? What has present day Shax (or another character who might have started that rumor) seen or heard that would link A&C romantically? I do think we’re still missing that part.

This all said, just to add a random thought in case someone has opinions on it one way or another, something bothers me about Crowley in the S2 1941 scene. He just seems… I don’t know. Dimmed? He seems a little shadowed. He really doesn’t take off the hat or glasses much (and really not at the same time.) Maybe it’s the clothing of the time period, but he almost seems more buttoned up than Aziraphale, who actually gets down to his waistcoat, the hussy. Crowley also doesn’t seem to have a lot of dialogue that’s not just him reacting to someone else (as opposed to being an active player we see him in the present day scenes and other minisodes). He almost seems to be in the back seat. It could simply be because this is supposedly being told from Aziraphale’s point of view and naturally the angel is going to be the star of his own memory, but the other two minisodes weren’t like that for me. I dunno. Maybe I’m reading too much into it, but I just didn’t get a lot of… feeling from Crowley during this minisode. We get lots of facial expressions and feelings from Aziraphale, and lots from both A&C in the other minisodes. I guess the way Crowley is presented in this minisode makes it difficult for me to imagine him making any kind of earth-shattering move. Or I’m just crazy and subconsciously wishing he’d taken off the damn hat and glasses so we could see his lovely face more.

Bonus, because 1941 Crowley does things to me and I will never not use any excuse to throw a picture of him in somewhere.

Red & Yellow Can Hurt a Fellow:

Color Symbolism in 1941 (Part 2)

So in Part 1 I held forth about how the use of red in and yellow in this minisode continues its symbolism from elsewhere in the show for romantic love and fear of head offices, respectively. From the moment of Aziraphale's realization that he is in love with Crowley, all the backgrounds become saturated with the vivid passionate red.

Then, in the dressing room, after the Bullet Catch, the walls are slightly more orange in comparison to the true crimson featured in the rest of the show, foreshadowing the intrusion of fear (symbolized throughout the show by the color yellow) into Aziraphale's romantic feelings for Crowley. This yellow becomes discretely visible the moment Furfur enters the dressing room, and it remains visible around Aziraphale and between Aziraphale and Furfur as Furfur menaces Crowley through the rest of the scene.

In the final scene of the "Nazi Zombie Flesheaters" minisode, after Aziraphale reveals (offscreen) that he has stolen the photographic proof of Crowley's fraternization with him from Furfur, Aziraphale and Crowley celebrate, sharing a bottle of wine by candlelight.

Pretty romantic, right?

Hmm.

Aziraphale and Crowley are each sitting on a red velvet chair, sharing red wine from a bottle with red paper at the top. The passionate romantic love is still there. But it's fragmented, isolated in small islands surrounded by yellow. Yellow backgrounds indicating fear are used in "A Companion to Owls" and "I Know Where I'm Going," so we've already been primed for what a yellow background means by the time we hit "Nazi Zombie Flesheaters." After the scare with Furfur, the background of Aziraphale's existence becomes once again saturated with fear.

Remember, this is Aziraphale's memory, so it's his feelings that are coloring these walls. Here's the same room in S1, looking toward where Crowley sits in 1941:

Now look at S2 again.

The walls are yellow in both (which fits the fear Aziraphale feels and must hide in the S1 scene as well), but the clarity and intensity of the yellow--and the fear--has been turned up and illuminated around Crowley.

@vidavalor proposes in "The Blitz, Part 3 Theory: The clues that suggest what it might be about & how it's affected what's come after it" that the story of the husbands in 1941 is likely to be a triptych, given that a literal Chekov's gun has been established (Aziraphale keeps a derringer in a hollowed-out book in the bookshop) and given that Aziraphale clearly references "A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square" in the conversation in the Bentley in 1967 but the song has not been established as one either of the husbands are aware of as significant to them by that year.

I agree with @vidavalor that a third part of the story is likely for two other reasons: firstly, the Nazi zombies are still shambling around London, another Chekov's gun; and secondly, because Aziraphale says, "You go too fast for me, Crowley." 1941 is the last record of a meeting between the husbands we have before Aziraphale says that, but...we haven't seen Crowley go fast with Aziraphale. At all. He's been responding to what Aziraphale wants, what Aziraphale decides to do.

So what happened between

and

? (Notice how this is still backlit in the pink and red or romantic and passionate and/or romantic love.)

How does "A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square" become a song Aziraphale references and Crowley picks up in 1967?

And, most importantly: Why does Aziraphale have to do the apology dance in 1941?

***

A Few More 1941 Observations

Do these curtains in 202? look like this--

(Note the symbolic Metatron head!)

--because Aziraphale wants this to be a romantic night and he's re-creating the most romantic night he's ever experienced?

***

Look who's hanging around next to Crowley even when he doesn't take off his sunglasses.

It's not just a passing shot, either: the dark horse stays in frame and visible the entire scene.

***

There's a post running around on Tumblr somewhere about how contemporary slang would interpret the language of the Bullet Catch (e.g. "never fired a gun at someone before") to mean that Crowley is a virgin (which I absolutely believe to be true) and Aziraphale is not (which I would find pretty surprising). Tumblr's search function being what it is, I have been unable to find it, so if someone would drop a link in the comments if they run across it so I can add it to the information here, I would I appreciate it deeply.

***

And finally, let us take a moment to appreciate Furfur's beautiful hair.

The wigwork in this series makes me sigh with happiness.

I think it's a telling choice that some of the angels have some dreadful visual qualities (Sandalphon's grille, Gabriel's jogging sweats) and some of the demons have beautiful visual qualities (Furfur's hair, Shax' 50s style).

#good omens #crowley #aziraphale #good omens 2 #the missing 1941 scenes #ineffable husbands #crowley x aziraphale

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ijustwant2write · 4 years ago

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A Secret Romantic-Benedict Bridgerton x Reader x Eloise Bridgerton (Platonic)

(GIF credit to @aryaofoldstones)

Requested by anonymous: ‘Hello! I saw your looking for Bridgerton requests, I would love some Benedict x Eloise sibling fluff! They have such a good dynamic in the show and I need more’

(I wouldn’t mind making another part of this if people want it tbh)

Characters: Benedict Bridgerton x Reader, Eloise Bridgerton x Reader (platonic)

Meanings: (Y/N)=Your name

(Y/L/N)=Your last name

Warnings: Fluff, fluff, fluff

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Eloise’s gloved hands clung onto her book as she and her family arrived at yet another social event, a ball once again. Her mama had ensured she was dressed to catch the eyes of men, and Eloise knew that meant there would be no room for intelligent conversation. With Daphne now married to the Duke, Eloise had more pressure on her shoulders than she imagined, having to find a suitor of similar standards. However, it wasn’t just her on the market, her brothers were too, especially Benedict (Violet knew it would be extremely difficult to marry off Anthony first, opting for the second eldest son).

Eloise smiled whenever her mama looked her way, though it quickly disappeared once she turned around. Benedict had been instructed to escort her sister around the ball to help seek out suitors, the men knew each other or something about someone; he could help her meet the right one.

“I cannot believe I am here.” Eloise moaned as she looped her arm through her brothers.

“Believe me sister, I do not wish to be here either.”

“Why must you parade me around like a horse at a dressage in order to find a new owner?” Eloise kept catching the men’s gazes, turning up her nose in disgust.

“So dramatic.” he chuckled.

She scoffed.“Well, if you’re going to advise me on who I should be marrying, I shall do the same for you. Now let’s see...”

Eloise looked around the room at all the women, wondering who would be the best match for her brother. Most of these women had no personalities, relying on their outfits to express themselves. Eloise knew of some ladies that were nice, though had nothing in common with her brother.

Eloise shrugged, tugging on her brother’s arm towards the door.“Ah, there’s no one here for us. Let us make haste and leave-”

“Oh no you don’t,” Benedict pulled her back,“we have been strictly told to stay for the night, even if it is just to socialise and...get our names out there.”

Eloise groaned a little too loudly, Ben ducking his head in embarrassment.“How long do these balls go on for?”

“I have never stayed for the full duration.”

“That’s not the answer I want to hear.”

Benedict glanced down at her, somehow only just realising that Eloise had brought a book with her.“Is that book sewed to your hand sister?”

“I brought it just in case I became bored. Which I am already.”

“I shall go and grab us some refreshments. Might as well enjoy them whilst we’re here.”

Eloise let her brother slip away, quickly finding a hiding spot by leaning up against a wall, away from the hustle and bustle of the crowds. She opened her book, continuing where she left off, happy she brought a pencil to scribble down notes for later. The studying never stopped for Eloise.

“Excuse me?” a woman’s voice interrupted her too soon.

Eloise tried her best to be polite, though her smile came off as sarcastic.“Yes?”

“Sorry,” the woman looked taken back,“I thought you were reading a book that I am reading at the moment, but I was wrong. I’ve disturbed you, I shall leave you alone-”

“Wait,” Eloise had now sparked an interest. No other lady had ever approached her like this,“I don’t mean to be rude. What book had you expected?”

“It’s oh so obvious, but I’ve been reading ‘Pride and Prejudice’ by Jane Austen. It’s the newest book out at the moment, and my mama lets me read it seeing as it involves a woman finding someone to marry. Although, it’s definitely about something deeper, that’s just what I told her.”

“I don’t indulge in romantic novels myself, but I am glad to hear of a female author selling her work.”

“It’s fantastic. And it’s nice to be able to read something without it being snatched out of my hands. Oh, where are my manners? I’m (Y/N) (Y/L/N). Sorry, I’ve been dancing with men all night and none of the conversations have been as riveting as this so far.”

“Why am I not surprised?” they both laughed.“I’m Eloise Bridgerton.”

(Y/N) tried to not show her shock when she heard the surname. They were only the most talked about family, her mama had gone on and on about them, especially when Lady Whistledown mentioned them in her writings.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you. Might I ask what it is that you are reading?”

“It is to do with my studies. I truly hate these events, so I thought I would ensure my mind was being worked properly.” Eloise realised that could come off as rude, squeezing her eyes shut in embarrassment.“I did not mean to offend you by that.”

“It really isn’t any bother.” (Y/N) giggled.“I rather enjoy these just for the dancing and drinks, I find promenading to be more successful in finding a suitor. Though I would much rather sneak off and see if I can get a few more pages in of a book I shouldn’t be reading.”

“Eloise, why must you go wondering off like that...” Benedict’s words trailed off as he approached his sister, spotting a beautiful woman stood by her.

Eloise’s eyes flickered between the two, and she smiled when she saw the adoration in her brother’s eyes. Cheekily taking the two glasses from his hands, she passed one to (Y/N), who awkwardly took it. (Y/N) had gazed upon the Bridgerton men in passing, they were very nice to look at. Of course, she never divulged in any fantasies about them, that would be silly. But seeing one in front of her had taken her breath away.

“Thank you brother.” Eloise said, taking a sip.“This is Lady (Y/N) (Y/L/N), a new friend of mine.”

He gently took her free hand in his, bending forwards slightly to kiss it. (Y/N) had this done to her many times, but this was different. Benedict made her feel butterflies in her stomach. Eloise could tell her mama was going to love this.

She cleared her throat.“We were just speaking of art, actually.”

(Y/N) furrowed her eyebrows.“We were talking about books.”

“I was about to move the topic along.”

“What kind of art would that be then?” Benedict asked, knowing what game his sister was playing.

“The...drawing, kind.”

“Isn’t all art drawn?”

“No, it is also painted.”

“I think artists may sketch out a rough idea before painting.”

“Well you would know brother, seeing as you yourself are an artist.”

“I wouldn’t say that-”

“You paint, Lord Bridgerton?” (Y/N) asked.

“Ah, yes, and I sketch.” he hoped his cheeks weren’t turning red.

“Anything in particular?”

“Mostly people.”

“Are you both attending the art exhibition my family are holding next week?”

“That’s your families’ exhibit?” Benedict became excited.

“Yes, my father collects a lot of art work. Then mother realised she could make a social event out of it, but at least everyone will be able to admire the work.”

“Would you believe it, we already have it noted down in our social calendar!” Eloise informed (Y/N). Benedict could sense her over-reacting, trying to keep a smile as (Y/N)’s face lit up in excitement.

“Perfect!” (Y/N) looked back up at Ben, making him stand a little taller.“It will be nice to have someone there who knows about the artwork. It will make for an interesting conversation. Just don’t let my father lecture you, he will talk for far too long! And I know you will be too polite to try and get away.”

“My brother is very polite.” Eloise said.“In fact, I’m surprised he hasn’t-”

“Excuse me for the intrusion,” a young man said from beside (Y/N),“but I was wondering if we could resume our dance lady (Y/N)?”

(Y/N) was smiling, but Eloise knew that look; it was the face women made when a man who made them uncomfortable approached, but they had to remain ladylike and polite.

“Actually my brother just asked her and she said yes. You two best make your way to the floor before the music starts again.” Eloise nudged her brother.

Benedict was confused at his sisters offer, until he locked eyes with (Y/N) again. They were pleading him to sweep her away, she was even leaning away from this man. He had been disrespectful in some way, and he wasn’t letting (Y/N) go through that again (despite only knowing the girl for a few minutes). He smugly smiled at the man, holding out his arm which (Y/N) took a little too quickly. Eloise was happy with herself as the pair walked off, sending the man a death glare when he asked her to dance instead. Once he left, her eyes went back to find her brother, who was already dancing with (Y/N), both smiling and laughing. Her mama was going to be ecstatic about this.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Eloise sat in the drawing room, obviously lounging with a book. Her younger siblings were being irritating as usual, running around her in circles. Before they arrived, she had peace. Eloise wanted a few moments alone, because she knew her mama would be bursting with questions about the night before.

“Ah, there you are.” Violet said as she walked in.

The book flopped into Eloise’s lap, a frown on her face. There goes her reading time.

“So, how was last night? Did you meet anyone?” her mama sat beside her.“You two, go play outside if you’re going to run around please.”

The children stopped as their mama spoke, sending each other devilish grins before they ran out of the room again, their giggling echoing down the halls. Violet went to shout after them, but decided to leave it be, there were more pressing matters.

“Well mama, do you see any suitors?” Eloise gestured around her.

Violet sighed.“Did you even try last night?”

“My life will not be reduced to a single night where I was forced to peacock around in order to please a man.”

“Oh, Eloise, must you make everything so dramatic?”

“Funny, Benedict said the same thing.”

“Actually, where is your brother? I have not seen him all morning.”

“He went out.” Eloise was relieved that the focus would now be off of her.“He’s calling upon a lady.”

Violet’s eyes widened.“What? When? Who?”

“Lady (Y/N) (Y/L/N).”

“(Y/L/N)? They are quite reputable.”

Eloise rolled her eyes.“Mama, she is a lovely girl. I don’t think you should just judge her on what family she comes from.”

“Oh, so you approve of this girl?”

“I...I mean...Well, I only spoke with her for a mere few minutes.”

“But?”

Eloise let out a huff.“I enjoyed her company. I think Benedict likes her. I didn’t see him for the rest of the night until it was time to leave. He spent all his time with her.”

Violet became overjoyed.“Oh, what marvelous news! I wish he had told me. Do you know what he took to her? Flowers? Food?”

“I have no idea mama. Just wait for his return and he will tell you all the details. I am not a psychic.”

Violet was impatient as she awaited the return of her son. Poor Collin had also been questioned when he showed up in the drawing room, but he had overslept in bed, waking with a terrible headache. It seemed that it was about to come back to him when his mama bombarded him with questions as to why he hadn’t called upon anyone that morning. Eloise kept her giggles quiet, ducking behind her book when Collin sent her daggers.

Poor Benedict had no idea what was in store for him. His cheeks were aching from how much he was smiling. He wasn’t surprised when he arrived at the (Y/L/N)’s house and saw multiple callers for (Y/N). However, jealousy rose inside him when he thought about these men dancing with her, trying to convince her that they were the man to marry. He held a beautiful bouquet of flowers, remembering that (Y/N) had mentioned her favourite the night before. Looking around at any other flowers she received, he was glad to see no other gentleman had chose it. Surely that would show he was listening? He endured sonnets, stories, songs and boasting from the other men, trying not to show his dissatisfaction as each one stepped forward. There was pressure that her parents were there, especially when he realised he was the last gentleman, everyone else had left.

(Y/N) had been incredibly anxious when she saw Benedict that morning. He had been the only man she genuinely smiled at, hoping he came at his own will, not forced by his mama. The night before had been the best ball (Y/N) had ever been to. Benedict was sweet, charming, handsome and interesting. They were able to talk about anything and everything, no small talk involved like all the other men she danced with. He had swooned her, and here he was, calling upon her.

Back at the Bridgerton house, Violet had not sat down since talking Collin’s ear off. Eloise was still in the drawing room with her, as were her two youngest siblings, munching on biscuits as they threw questions at their mama. She did not have all the answers, sometimes not even hearing them speak for she was too deep in her thoughts. At one point, she did sit, but beside the window, o the lookout for any signs of her son. When a carriage pulled up in front of the house, Violet leapt out of her seat, startling her children. She made a beeline to the door, standing there with her hands clasped together. When Benedict walked in, he too flinched, not expecting his mama to be there.

“Mama, how long have you been stood there?” Benedict asked as he walked past her, pinching a biscuit from his brother’s plate.

“She’s been waiting for you.” Eloise explained, also excited to hear about his calling.

“I hope you sat down at some point.” he joked, sitting beside Eloise and slouching.

Violet hurried to sit on the sofa across him.“You didn’t tell me you were calling on a lady this morning.”

“Well, we got back late from the ball yesterday evening, and I had to leave early to ensure I got there in good time. Though it seemed every other man thought that too.”

“There were many men there?”

“Yes, quite a few.”

Eloise straightened up at her brother’s grumpy expression.“You really like her!”

“How wonderful!” Violet gushed.

“Do not get ahead of yourselves.”

“But you do, don’t you? Otherwise you wouldn’t have called on her.”

Ben was lost for words. He couldn’t argue with that, and he did like seeing his mama happy.“Yes, yes I do. And it would seem she reciprocates the feelings.”

“This is such good news! I must see what our social calendar looks like, we must ensure you two spend time together.”

“Actually mama-” Eloise went to tell her about the art exhibit until Ben interrupted.

“Good idea mama.” he nodded, smiling at her as she walked away, a spring in her step. Once she was gone, he let out a big breath.“I just needed a moment without questions from her.”

“Well, you’re going to have questions from me.” Eloise angled her body to face him, her elbow perched on the sofa with her face resting in her hand.“I didn’t think you were going to call upon her. Are my match making skills really that good?”

“I hate to admit it, but yes, you have done an excellent job.” Benedict felt relaxed thinking about (Y/N).

“So, what happened this morning?”

“I took her flowers, she told me her favourites last night, and then I had to sit there whilst her other gentleman callers desperately tried to impress her. It was agony! Finally I was able to have time with her, and it was just...I don’t know how to put it into words.”

“Did you bring her anything else?”

Benedict became bashful.“I brought her a sketchbook, like the one I have. She mentioned how she used to often sketch when she was younger. I thought it would be a unique gift.”

“Benedict, you truly are a romantic at heart.”

“For her I am, yes.”

Eloise smiled for her brother, until a smirk fell on his face.“What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Aw, is someone also a secret romantic?”

“No!” Eloise protested, quickly grabbing her book again.“I am just happy you found someone.”

“And you helped, because you secretly want everyone to find someone.”

“No I don’t! You’re ruining this moment now Benedict.”

“Don’t worry Eloise, you’ll find someone.” Ben joked.

She groaned.“You are insufferable...but I still want to go to that art exhibit.”

“To see love bloom?”

“N-no, to see the art work.”

“Of course, of course. But, thank you Eloise.”

She tried not to smile, but couldn’t help it.“You’re welcome.”

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aminiatureworld · 3 years ago

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Ikemen Vampire Headcanons II

Characters: Arthur, Isaac, Dazai ft. gn!reader and the rest of the mansion

Premise: I am no longer sick so I wrote some more random headcanons

Word Count: 2,454

Warnings:Various series spoilers

Author’s Note: This one came out a little long, mainly due to Arthur - my favorite - but also because I just have a lot of things to say about all these characters! I have to admit Dazai is probably the character I’m least comfortable with, due to his incredibly sad life, as well as broader historical circumstances surrounding him at the time. Still, I hope I did him and the rest justice!

Arthur Conan Doyle

One thing that death did not change about Arthur is his position as a theosophist. ‘If vampires can exist, then why should the concept of fairies be so ludicrous?’ He firmly believes in all things supernatural, his beliefs on buffeted by his new life, or rather living death. To Arthur there is no dissonance in being a medical man and a believer in magic. It is simply one of nature’s finer peculiarities.

Though Arthur at one point considered becoming a doctor or nurse officially, it was decided that such an attempt might be too dangerous or bring too much scrutiny to the members of the mansion, not to mention that he is still technically an Englishman – albeit a dead one. However he is still a doctor, and thus is sometimes called upon by friends of Saint-Germain, or by acquaintances of the other members of the mansion to help in some way. He also continues to read up on the latest medical research and discoveries; both so that he can continue to give the best care possible to his patients, but also because he simply finds it rather interesting. It doesn’t hurt when writing Holmes stories certainly.

If Napoleon’s going to ask Arthur a million and one questions about British naval history – Conan Doyle did spend some time at sea and wrote about it – then Arthur also gets to ask Napoleon about his own experiences. Now yes, the two are probably very drunk when these conversations take place, but Arthur has still retained enough information to rewrite some of his stories on the Napoleonic Wars. Not that he’d let anyone read them, he’d see it as an admission of his works being imperfect, something he couldn’t stand to do. Still, he is rather proud of them.

Once Arthur felt like he ought to branch out his reading and asked around for suggestions. Theo, being a bit of a troll, recommended A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur’s Court. No one knows what Arthur told Theo upon finishing, but the two didn’t go out drinking together for a month after the fact. Arthur is also now a devoted Mark Twain hater. No one tell him about Monty Python and the Holy Grail for the sake of your sanity if not his.

Though Arthur could already speak English and French at the time of his death, his love for languages, or the time to devote himself to said love, really flourished after his death. He’s now learned Spanish (Castilian), German, Italian, and a little bit of Dutch. Though he’s surprisingly good at all these languages, he also has a tendency to mix up the grammar of each language. This is, fine, but Theo dies inside every time Arthur ‘chooses’ German grammar over Dutch grammar.

Arthur’s ability to mimic accents is pretty impressive, although somewhat ironically his French accent is probably the worst of his secondary languages. Still, this doesn’t change the fact that Arthur has a strong propensity to master languages.

Despite his semi-notoriety as a rake and a womanizer, Arthur is a secret Jane Austen fanatic. He stands by the fact that she is one of the best British authors. This plays into Arthur’s odd status as both a deeply cynical and jaded man, at least outwardly, and a lonely soul who longs for the deep love and connection that characters in romantic novels have. He’s not a romantic in the way Napoleon is, in the way that is connected to the concept of ‘being a gentleman’ or ‘courtly love’. Arthur’s just an honest to god sap at the end of the day.

Similarly, Arthur is extremely touch starved, to the surprise of absolutely no one. If he allowed himself to be vulnerable for a single second Arthur would certainly be the kind of person to hug all the people who live in the mansion at any given time. Platonic hugs, romantic hugs, familial hugs, all the hugs. When you and Arthur become a couple at least 10% of time together is spent lounging around on any given piece of furniture snuggling.

While snuggling Arthur likes to rest his chin on top of your hair, or vice versa, while gentling skimming his fingers up and down your back (something he’d greatly appreciate if you reciprocated). Although a bit handsy and energetic by nature, when cuddling Arthur turns into a bit of a blob. His teasing turns into small sounds of happiness, and he’s quite liable to fall asleep at any given moment. It’s a time when he can truly let go of all the worry and stress that he carries. After all, he’s with you. What else could there be to worry about in the world?

After meeting you Arthur becomes a little more comfortable with physical affection, or at least more honest with himself about it. He buys another pillow that he can cuddle if for whatever reason you two don’t spend the night together. He starts patting people on the shoulder more often. Once he even hugged Theo after the art dealer had to travel outside of Paris for a deal. Of course he was somewhat embarrassed after the fact, but small steps for this poor soul.

Arthur is naturally chatty. He talks all the time, whether to whoever’s in the room or to himself. He just likes the act of talking, he can’t help himself. Similarly Arthur is also a bit of a hummer, and has been known to get caught in the thermae singing whatever drinking song was in his mind at the time.

Isaac Newton

As a birthday present Saint-Germain once gave Isaac a set of college calculus textbooks from the 21st century. After Isaac recovered from fainting he began studying the textbooks religiously. The idea that calculus has become not only so common that millions of students study it, but that it has even gone farther than Isaac himself could have imagined is something that fills him with so much joy. And now he has to catch up – which he does, within a month.

Since the living spaces of each resident of the mansion is tailored to fit the style and make of their original timeline, as a way to make things more comfortable, Isaac’s bed is one of those fancy four-poster beds with a canopy. The pattern of his canopy is the sky with various planets and stars – all in the style of the early 18th century. Isaac loves looking up at his canopy and just allowing himself to daydream, it allows him to relax, especially when he’s struggling with bloodlust and feeling like he’s losing himself.

However Isaac also feels as if the room he was given is much too fancy for his taste, hence a much simpler bed in his workroom, where he sleeps most of the time and spends most of his day. It just feels much more like home and like himself.

Isaac has pretty nimble fingers, something that he relies on for the more practical sides of his experimentation and learning. As such he can play the harpsichord somewhat poorly (he cannot read music and never had free access to a keyboard, as well as weave on a loom.

Though Isaac has made peace with his death in some capacity, one of the smaller things that he regrets is not living long enough to see the Industrial Revolution play out. To see how humans made such a wide variety of technology so quickly is something he deeply regrets not being able to see. To make up for it Isaac has read a great deal on different industries, from textiles, to transportation, to smelting. He also, of course, has spent a great deal of time reading about the changes in the sciences and especially in regards to astronomy.

Though Isaac knows it will probably never happen, he has to admit that he wouldn’t be too unhappy if Saint-Germain managed to resurrect Galileo Galilei. To speak with such a man would be beyond Isaac’s scope of happiness. However in reality he probably wouldn’t be able to get a single word out if something like that were to ever happen. He can continue dreaming…

Though he’d never admit it, Isaac loves listening to people talking while falling asleep. If he were sick enough – or drunk enough – he might ask you to sing him a lullaby while he falls asleep. There’s just something about the human voice to him, the way that it sounds in that half asleep realm, both far away and close. The intimacy and calmness of it really helps Isaac sleep. In fact he’s ‘forgotten’ to turn the phonograph off before falling asleep before.

One of the reasons that Isaac agrees to teach the children of Paris who cannot afford a nice boarding school is because he feels that in some way he is helping the childish part of himself, the part that wanted a teacher or mentor who was always there for him regardless of his performance in school or his anti-social behavior. He understands that sometimes a love of learning is not enough when one is discouraged, and so hopes that he may foster that love in any child willing to do so. Isaac doesn’t see himself as a genius after all, or rather, he feels as if anyone might become a genius if given the right environment.

On one of his days off Isaac takes you to a little valley in the middle of Saint-Germain’s vast estates. There he lies down side-by-side with you and just, talks. Nothing important, nothing life shaking, just simple conversation. When the sun goes down he maps out the stars for you, all the little pieces of information that he’s gathered about the heavens laid bare for you.

He even reveals the things he believed about the stars as a child, that they were angels, that if he climbed the highest mountain in England he could touch one, that they would be very cold if he did. It’s one of the first times he really lets you see into his soul, the little bits and pieces that make Isaac. It’s something you won’t forget for a while.

Osamu Dazai

While Dazai tries not to complain about it, there is a part of him that resents being the only resident of the mansion to have lived his entire life after the current era. Sure Arthur lived a little longer, but he simply does not understand the odd whiplash of having your entire life revolve around things that won’t happen yet, that are so very far away right now. His favorite books, songs, films that aren’t out yet, all of it hasn’t yet appeared. It’s one of the reasons Dazai is so drawn to you, as well as to Sebastian. Yes you two don’t have the exact same experience either, but at least you’ve heard of a movie before!

Dazai likes to peruse through the library at random at times. This was how he ended up finding out who F Scott Fitzgerald was. Though Dazai certainly didn’t get all the references, or get any closer to understanding anything about what a state is, he appreciated the way that Fitzgerald writes about his characters like they’re all on the edge of ruin. It speaks to Dazai, and he isn’t afraid to admit that Fitzgerald is one of the only American authors the man can stand – not that he’s read many.

Dazai is not one to shy away from slightly ridiculous, slightly self-deprecating humor. So of course he took a shine to the odd jokes about communism that slip out of you and Sebastian every once in a while. Considering his on and off interest in Marxism in his life, why wouldn’t he? However he’s not the most… up to date person that has ever lived. His jokes, while not necessarily reminiscent of the modern meme, still manage to get a laugh out of you.

“Dazai, could you pass the green beans please?”

“You want me to share food with you? My dear Isaac, I didn’t know you were a communist!”

As surprisingly funny as his dad-level humor is at times though, you had to ask him to stop making the same joke at the dinner table. One more and you and Sebastian weren’t sure you had the manpower to stop the room from becoming a crime scene.

Another aspect of Dazai’s former life that he misses are the instruments. You’d think that 19th century Europe, with its obsession with exports (and exploitation) of Eastern Asian would have at least some kokyuus lying around but nooo. Dazai honestly doesn’t know what he expected.

Although in all seriousness Dazai does sometimes feel like a flower that’s been uprooted and put into foreign soil. Everything is different now. The music, the food, the language, the sights, even the smell is completely unlike his old home. There’s a liberating aspect to it, the idea that he is free from all that tormented him, so far away he might as well be on the moon. Yet, do we not also love our homeland? Dazai doesn’t know what to make of these two clashing parts of him. He tries not to bring it up generally. However he doesn’t hide his gratitude when Saint-Germain comes back from his travels with a small souvenir from Dazai’s home country.

Dazai quite enjoys the sounds of thunderstorms and rain. Since one doesn’t really have to worry about power outages or any such thing in this time period, it’s nice to just sit at the window and watch the raw power of nature. It’s calming, in an odd sense. It makes Dazai feel grounded, feel part of a natural cycle of things, one that, when left unaltered, will eventually renew itself. He feels as if he’s what’s being nurtured by the blowing gusts of rain, rather than the shrubbery outside.

In fact you’ve had to race outside a few times, umbrella and towel in hand, ‘rescuing’ your idiosyncratic partner from becoming utterly drenched. After all, a laid up Dazai – bored and too sick to have any sort of self-restraint – is a chaotic Dazai, more so than usual.

When you two are lying together somewhere, a tangle of limbs and mingled breaths, Dazai likes to draw small patterns on your palm. It’s just a little obsession, the swirls and dips and grooves that make up your hands. Just another small thing that reminds him that he is here, he is with you, he can reach out and touch you, soak up your presence. He may be a vampire now, but he has retained his humanity enough to share this human connection with you. Honestly, what more could he ask for?

#ikemen vampire #ikemen arthur #ikemen isaac #ikemen dazai #ikevamp arthur #ikevamp isaac #ikevamp dazai #headcanons #my writing #bern writes

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volterran-wine · 3 years ago

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Relationship Headcanons || Corin

“My heart is, and always will be, yours. ” ― Jane Austen

Requested by Anonymous: "Corin is a Gen Z kid, she was just born 2000 years earlier. You can fight me on that. If you don't mind, could we have headcanons for a relationship with her? Thank you dear ❤️"

Requested by Anonymous: "I would love to see headcanons for Corin with a male mate. But with more of a focus on the courtship instead of an already established relationship. Perhaps even Caius feeling protective of his “daughter.” It would be greatly appreciated."

Requested by Anonymous: "Can we please get some Corin relationship headcannons with a female mate? I recently read the post about sexualities and it interested me quite a bit"

Ah, I am so happy to see so much love for Corin in my inbox. She is a character I initially did not have that many plans for but turned out to be one of my favourite. Like one of the requester said I do think she is quite a modern vampire, always being up to date with what is going on in the human world.

As the one of the requesters mentioned; Corin's sexuality is talked about in this post that I made. And if I'm going to be honest; it is difficult for me to imagine Corin with anyone else but a woman.

That being said I have stuck to some more gender neutral terms for this one, seeing as though I like to keep my Relationship Headcanons pretty general.

𝐀𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬, 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐥��𝐰.

As I have mentioned before, Corin is quite a modern vampire; meaning she is utterly fascinated by anything new that the humans come up with. It is not uncommon for her to sneak off during her free hours and run off into the town of Volterra or even Firenze to people watch to her hearts content.

That is how she felt the mate-pull towards a recently changed vampire, barely not even a fledgling. Like many times before she intended on ignoring it, rarely did anyone ever measure up to what she expected of a mate. It was her intention to ignore them, turning her back on another potential mate even though the pull in her chest told her to do otherwise.

Her soon to be mate had other plans however, for they made sure to pursue Corin through the winding streets; making sure they never leave the shade in order to compromise themselves. After a 3 hour long game of cat and mouse Corin finally relents, giving her suitor the time of day to at least chat with her for a couple of minutes... she owned them that much.

They ended up chatting for hours, time flowing by as they spent the entire day chatting in the shade by the river. Never had Corin experienced meeting another vampire so willing to listen to her talk so enthusiastically about everything that had fascinated her through the years. And they even matched her energy! Indulging her and answering any silly old question she had about humanity at it's current state. When the moon is high in the sky Corin makes her decision, this one was different and they would be hers. She drags them home to Volterra, not thinking about the worry she had caused among her friends and family... and the hell that awaited.

Corin is absolutely extatic, gushing about her mate in the very entrance hall where some of her fellow guards were congregated. All is well and good until she hears a familiar set of footfalls making their way towards her and her mate, prompting her to let out a soft "fuck." before Demetri begins to snicker knowingly as Corin's significant other is none the wiser.

"C-Corin what is it?" "... He is coming." "Who?" "... My father."

Caius might just win the award for father in law from hell, for nobody could ever truly be good enough for his child. He is in fact Corin's sire, and very much look at her as his lovely daughter. Corin's brother is quite happy that Caius' protectiveness only extends to her, which he likes to tease his sister about whenever he is home in Volterra. Corin despairs, for her mate is in fact the sweetest person she has ever met.

It all comes to a peak when Caius proposes to challenge Corin's mate to one on one combat to test them, that is when Athenodora intervenes and promptly hauls her husband off to have a little talk with him. Corin is left in their guards recreation room together with her mate, their hands slowly finding one another as they patiently wait, Corin cannot help the tiny yet pleased smile that almost makes her cheeks ache.

Once Caius is won over with the help of Athenodora things begin to run smoother in Volterra; and the courtship can actually continue in an orderly manner. It takes Corin about 3 months to make up her mind, it was finally her time to know what the allure of mate was all about. Well, that is until Afton and Santiago gets involved, effectively threatening and welcoming the new vampire to the coven at the same time.

"You did not tell me you had brothers as well?" "I have A brother... those two are just my friends." "I see... shall I duel them both?" "Please do not you will lose.

Corin's mate ends up as a fellow guard in the coven, becoming a personal guard to Volterra's two queens together with their mate. It is a rather good arrangement, and they end up growing close to the queens as well.

Seeing as though Corin likes to proclaim herself the smartest vampire in the palazzo, her mate will have to prepare themselves for being her assistant in anything scientific. Wether it be an unplanned explosion or a experiment gone horribly wrong her mate will have to be patient and encouraging.

One of Corin's many hobbies is cooking and baking, an endeavour she finds just as scientific as it is pleasant. It would be her goal to develop her mates favourite foods and treats in a way that they can consume, surprising them with a dinner their very first anniversary.

Corin can have a bit of a jealousy streak. Say her and her mate is at a ball, and another partygoers is making clear advances towards her mate. She will make her way over there and plant a kiss on them quite darlingly, turning to look at the ill fated suitor with a raised brow afterwards.

PDA: Corin has no qualms about physical displays of affection, she herself loves to wrap her arms around her mates waist or hold their hand. She is not overly fond of anything too inappropriate however, that sort of thing she likes to keep behind closed doors.

Terms of endearment Corin would use: "Sweetheart", "Baby" and "Amóre". If she feels exceptionally affectionate she might begin to use endearments like "Sugar" and "Sweetness"

Being with Corin means an eternity of exploring what the world will be like decades from now, energised with her peppy spirit till the end of time.

#Corin Volturi #Corin Volturi Headcanon #Twilight #Twilight Renaissance #There may be some worldbuilding hidden in here

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bethanydelleman · 2 years ago

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Darcy, in the Beginning

I recently posted a chapter of an FF from Darcy’s POV where I wrote out him doing this:

Mr. Darcy had at first scarcely allowed her to be pretty; he had looked at her without admiration at the ball; and when they next met, he looked at her only to criticise. But no sooner had he made it clear to himself and his friends that she had hardly a good feature in her face..

Which shows that Elizabeth was actually right that Darcy looks to criticise. But what really gets me is that he told his friends that Elizabeth was ugly. He sat down with Bingley, Louisa, Hurst, and Caroline, and outlined that Elizabeth’s face was without merit. (and we know it was them because who else is even around) It may have sounded something like this:

“For my own part,” she rejoined, “I must confess that I never could see any beauty in her. Her face is too thin; her complexion has no brilliancy; and her features are not at all handsome. Her nose wants character—there is nothing marked in its lines. Her teeth are tolerable, but not out of the common way; and as for her eyes, which have sometimes been called so fine, I could never see anything extraordinary in them. They have a sharp, shrewish look, which I do not like at all; and in her air altogether there is a self-sufficiency without fashion, which is intolerable.”

(Since we know that Caroline repeats Darcy’s opinions back to him like a very obedient parrot)

One reader commented that they weren’t even sure they wanted “this” Darcy to marry Elizabeth. But this is canon Darcy. He also canonically made fun of her family behind her back and said, “She a beauty!—I should as soon call her mother a wit.”

That’s not socially awkward, it’s not shy, it’s downright mean. And also, it’s also not just what everyone does, Bingley does not participate in the Bennet Bashing sessions. Jane Austen kind of slides around how mocking Darcy is in the beginning and has many of his lines repeated by Caroline, which kind of shifts the blame. But man, he’s a jerk in the beginning.

(If you are curious, Mr. Darcy’s Charm on AHA)

#fitzwilliam darcy #mr. darcy #pride and prejudice #JAFF #elizabeth bennet #canon not fanon #no Shyboi Darcy #jerkish Darcy #who outlines female imperfections to his friends #Is he secretly Sir Walter Elliot at this point?#tell me how many plain women you passed in Bath!#caroline bingley #the faithful assistant

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invisibleanonymousmonsters · 4 years ago

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Only Friend

Character: Jason Todd x Fem!Reader [Robin!Jason Todd]

Summary: Gotham mourned for Robin. But who mourned for Jason Todd? Y/F/N Y/L/N wasn’t just another one of Jason Todd’s friends. She was his only friend.

Word Count: 7,000 [One Shot]

Warnings: Violence, Death, Loss, Grief

Y/N didn’t know what time it was. She hadn’t opened the blinds in her room for days. And she didn’t plan on doing so anytime soon. In fact, she didn’t plan on getting out of bed anytime soon.

She heard a knock on her bedroom door. From the sound alone, she knew it was her mother.

“Y/N, dear. Can I come in?”

She wanted to say, ‘No.’ She wanted to say, ‘Go away.’ But Y/N didn’t even have the energy to do that. So she just laid still with the covers over her shoulders and said nothing.

Her mom slowly opened the door.

Y/N’s family had been tiptoeing around her since it happened. They didn’t know how to handle the situation. Most parents don’t expect for their daughter’s best friend to die. No child should have to face grief like this.

But Y/N had no choice.

Because Jason Todd was dead.

“Hi, honey,” Y/N’s mother cooed as she walked into the room. Then she placed a plate of food on her nightstand. “I brought you something to eat.”

Y/N didn’t even so much as look at her mother, just continued to stare off into nothing.

“Is it alright if I open of your blinds and windows. I think you could use some fresh air.”

Y/N gave what appeared to be a half shrug, barely visible underneath the thick covers.

But her mother seemed relieved, it was starting to smell musty in the room.

Her mother sat on the edge of the bed and stroked Y/N’s face. “The funeral’s tomorrow.”

Y/N’s eyes finally looked up at her mother – desperate and scared. “Do I have to go?”

“I think you’d regret it if you didn’t, honey. You deserve your chance to say goodbye. Your father and I will be there with you.”

Then Y/N closed her eyes and burst into tears. “I had a dream about him last night. And I woke up and remembered–” she had to pause to catch her breath. “I-I-I remembered he’s g-gone.”

“Oh, honey,” her mom whispered as she pulled Y/N into her arms. “I know you miss him. I know. He was your best friend.”

Y/N pulled away and looked up at her mom. “He was my only friend,” she corrected.

———

Jason Todd was sitting at a lunch table by himself and reading when someone slammed their tray down across from him. His eyes flickered up in a glare, already expecting someone to try and pick a fight with him or something.

But instead he found a girl standing above him, smirking down at him.

No, not just any girl, the prettiest girl in their grade. No one else at this stupid school seemed to think so. But that just further proved Jason’s theory that everyone here were idiots.

“Hi,” she said confidently.

“H-Hi?” Jason stuttered back.

“I’m sitting with you,” she announced as she sat down. “I’m Y/N.”

Jason finally smirked and remained confused. “I know who you are…”

“You’ve never talked to me, so how was I supposed to know?” Y/N said back. “And you’re Jason Todd.”

“Yes?” He responded.

Y/N laughed at his confusion.

Jason Todd wasn’t popular. There was a disconnect between him and his peers. The kids at Gotham Academy were trust-fund babies and spoiled brats. They were such snobs that there were even cliques separating the kids who came from old money from those who came from new money. It all seemed ridiculous after literally starving in the slums of the city.

Jason Todd wasn’t a rebel. He didn’t lash out or let his inability to connect to the other students make him feel down. Ask any teacher who had him and they would say he was a straight-A student and he never once caused trouble in their class. He was always polite and respectful, responsible and well-behaved.

Jason Todd wasn’t bullied. Maybe it was a vibe he gave off, but somehow the other kids knew not to mess with him. Jason came to school with a black eye once, and he always wondered if it freaked them all out enough to never try to mess with him – not that they would ever stand a chance against him.

In regards to the middle school hierarchy, Jason was nobody.

Because Jason Todd wasn’t really a kid. He just had the misfortune of also not being an adult yet.

He was just a poor punk from the Narrows, who just happened to try and steal the tires off the car of Gotham’s notorious vigilante. He didn’t belong at this snobby prep school.

But going to school was one of Bruce’s demands after making Jason his new Robin.

Jason just didn’t know how to make a convincing argument for why he didn’t need social interactions with kids his own age.

“Is this some kind of dare?” Jason asked Y/N.

She froze her eating and scoffed at him. “You’ve watched too many bad teen movies. What kind of asshole would I be to do something like that?”

But Jason still looked around the cafeteria, expecting to find a table full of people watching this interaction and trying to hide their giggles.

Y/N finally slammed down her food, sat back, and crossed her arms. “People at this school suck.”

“Uhh…OK?”

“I saw you reading Pride & Prejudice the other week. And you were wearing a Led Zeppelin t-shirt yesterday. You helped pick up Jill’s stuff when her backpack ripped open, while everyone else just laughed.” She paused. But Jason waited. “What I’m saying is that I’ve decided that you don’t suck.”

“Oh,” Jason blurted out.

“Do you honestly think anyone at this school even knows who Jane Austen is? And some dude in my English class tried to tell me Nickelback was his favorite band.”

Jason laughed at that. “How did you even respond to that?”

“I asked him if he was fucking with me and then the teacher yelled at me for swearing. And I told her, ‘How am I supposed to react to a Nickelback fan without using profanities?’”

Jason laughed again.

That was how Jason and Y/N became best friends. That was all it took.

Jason would soon find out that Y/N didn’t belong here just as much as him. She didn’t come from money – just your normal, middle-class suburban family. She’d won a full-ride scholarship to Gotham Academy, which was impressive since they only handed out one per grade.

Meanwhile, Bruce Wayne made one 30-second call and Jason was accepted – no questions asked.

Y/N was rather mature for her age, but it wasn’t the product of being Batman’s sidekick and fighting the criminals of Gotham City.

—

Any second Jason had to be a normal kid was spent hanging out with Y/N. Jason was at Y/N’s house all the time, loving Y/N’s parents and envious of the stable home Y/N got to grow up in.

It took awhile for Jason to feel comfortable inviting Y/N to the manor, despite Alfred saying he was welcome to have friends over whenever he wished. Jason eventually got over his embarrassment. While Y/N seemed in awe of Wayne Manor, the evidence of Jason’s wealth didn’t make her treat him any different. They mostly hung out in Jason’s room anyways. Or in the kitchen when Alfred made them snacks.

While they were at school, they always ate lunch together and walked to classes shoulder-to-shoulder any chance they got. They only needed each other.

They ignored everyone else. And in return, everyone else left them alone.

For the most part.

—

Jason should’ve known something was wrong when he heard the commotion on his way to third period.

When he heard kids start chanting “Fight!” his gut somehow knew Y/N was involved.

Jason shoved his way through the thick circle that was surrounding the drama.

He reached the opening just in time to see Y/N tackle a boy named Parker to the ground. The crowd gasped, not actually expecting them to actually go through with violence. Then Y/N lifted her fist and landed a punch to Parker’s face.

But Jason quickly stepped forward and pulled Y/N off.

“He’s not worth it, Y/N.”

Recognizing the voice of her best friend, Y/N allowed him to pull her away.

“Gonna let your boyfriend pull you away?” Parker yelled out.

Y/N whipped back toward him, but Jason wrapped his arms around her and held her back. “Y/N, leave it!”

“I’m not the one with the a black eye and bloodied nose, asshole!” Y/N screamed, only half fighting Jason’s hold. “Next time, I’ll kick you so hard in your tiny dick that you won’t be able to have kids.”

Jason managed to drag her through the halls with a vice-like grip on her hand.

Y/N scoffed at his efforts, “Where are you even taking me?”

“We’re ditching class.”

She shrugged. “Sounds good to me.”

Jason knew exactly what exit didn’t have an alarmed rigged to it or any video surveillance. He also grabbed a cellphone in his back pocket and started to type frantically.

“You have a cellphone! What? Since when? My parents said I can’t get one until high school,” Y/N groaned enviously.

Little did she know, Jason had set up an AI system that would call the school with Bruce’s voice and leave a recording about how Jason needed to be dismissed from school. It was perfect for Bat emergencies.

He had added Y/N’s parents voices to the algorithm a few months ago, having a hunch it would come in handy.

As soon as they were a safe distance away from the school, Y/N let go of Jason’s hand and walked slightly ahead of him.

With their freedom secured, Jason could focus on Y/N now.

“What did he do?” He asked her gently.

Y/N was smart and calculated. If she’d picked a fight with someone, Jason knew it had to have been caused by something serious.

“Doesn’t matter,” she mumbled.

Jason rushed forward and stopped her walking. “Hey, come on. It’s me you’re talking to…”

Y/N nodded, knowing he was right. They told each other everything, or so she thought.

Her eyes went to the ground, too embarrassed to meet his gaze. “We were in health class. Today was the unfortunate lesson for learning male and female anatomy. Mrs. Martin started talking about…” Y/N hesitated. “She started talking about boobs. Said something about when girls start seeing a change.”

“And?” Jason urged softly.

“Parker chimed in and said, ‘Or if you’re Y/L/N… never.’”

Embarrassed by her confession, Y/N started walking again – quicker, this time.

Jason jogged to catch up to her. “Fuck him. Only a loser asshole would say something like that.”

“Well…he’s probably right.”

Jason shrugged. “Who cares?”

This time Y/N stopped walking. “You don’t get it,” she snapped. “Every girl in our grade is growing up. And I still have the chest of a boy. My mom won’t even let me buy a bra because she says I don’t need it yet.”

Jason was speechless.

To be honest, he had never really noticed. Y/N wore baggy band t-shirts or flannels all the time. He wasn’t exactly studying her silhouette when they hung out. But he never imagined that Y/N would be bothered by something like that.

“Sometimes I’d just like to…I don’t fucking know…feel like a girl.” She paused. “A pretty girl,” she emphasized.

Jason stared into her eyes. “You are a pretty girl.”

Y/N sighed and rolled her eyes. “J, you don’t have to say that.”

“I’m serious. You’re the prettiest girl in our grade, Y/N.”

That caught her off guard. He’d never said anything like that to her before.

Sure, Jason said nice things to her. But it was usually him complimenting her taste in music or thanking her for showing him a new book he loved. But he’d never called her pretty before.

Jason, worried that he’d exposed himself, pulled her to him so he could give her a noogie. And the moment was broken.

“Jason! I think I’ve proved today that I will hit a bitch!”

He just laughed and playfully shoved her away. “Come on. I’ll buy you one of those embarrassing frappuccinos from Starbucks.”

“Excuse you! They’re not embarrassing. They’re delicious.”

Jason could tell Y/N didn’t want to talk about the fight anymore. So he thought distracting her was the next best thing.

And, by some miracle, they returned to school the next day without any punishment.

But Jason wasn’t done yet.

Parker didn’t realize he was messing with Robin’s best friend.

Jason was patient. He waited for the precise moment when Parker would be alone.

A week after the fight, Parker turned the corner of an empty hallway and jumped when he nearly ran into Jason.

“What do you want, Todd?”

Jason took a step toward him and lowered his voice, “If you ever say anything like that to Y/N again – or to any girl, for that matter – I won’t hesitate to beat the shit out of you.”

Parker side eyed him. “Yeah, right.”

Without hesitating, Jason reached forward, grabbed Parkers palm, and snapped the index finger of his dominant hand.

Parker let out a screech of pain and fell to his knees.

Jason kneeled down to whisper in his ear, “No witnesses. No cameras. And I’m actually in gym class right now, running the mile. No one will believe you.”

Parker looked up at Jason like he was a madman.

Jason smiled and patted him on the head. “Remember what I said.”

After that, Parker never even so much as looked in Y/N’s direction.

—

Jason and Y/N looked out for each other, protected each other

And Jason may have kept his other life of Robin from her, but Y/N seemed to already sense that there was something Jason was hiding. It wasn’t just something, it was dark.

When Y/N started noticing bruises and cuts on Jason’s body, she grew concerned. But she wanted to observe and think of all the possibilities before she ever brought it up.

Then one day at her house, she made a joke and slapped Jason playfully on the back.

He hissed uncontrollably and his entire body froze.

“Jason?” Y/N asked with concern.

“I’m fine. You just surprised me and knocked the wind out of me,” Jason said hurriedly.

But Y/N wasn’t stupid. She quickly grabbed the hem of his t-shirt and ripped it up so she could see his back.

“JASON! What the fuck!” She gasped in horror as she saw the bruises scattered across his skin. She had never seen anything like it.

“Shh!” Jason tried to calm her to stop her parents from coming in and then having her immediately showing them too.

“What happened?” Y/N whispered, her eyes glazed over with tears.

“Nothing. I’m fine, Y/N. I promise.”

“You’re not fine. And this isn’t the first time,” Y/N countered. “You think you do a good job of hiding them, but I see the other bruises and cuts, Jason. And don’t think I don’t notice how often you skip school because your ‘sick.’”

Jason stayed quiet. He didn’t want to lie to her. But he couldn’t tell her. It could put her in danger. And if Bruce ever found out, he’d put a stop to the whole thing. Jason would never be Robin ever again.

“He does it,” Y/N whispered.

Jason blinked. “Who?”

“Bruce,” she clarified. “He beats you, doesn’t he?”

Jason’s eyes widened in horror. He knew Y/N was weary of his adoptive father. She noticed how absent he was from Jason’s life, then took note of how cold he was when he was present. But her theory made perfect sense. And if the roles were reversed, Jason probably would’ve come to the same conclusion.

“Y/N, Bruce has never hurt me.”

She frowned. “You don’t have to protect him. And you don’t have to take his shit. I knew something was off about him ever since I met him. But I didn’t think it was this.”

“Y/N…” Jason began.

“Does Alfred know?” She couldn’t imagined him every letting something like this happen if he did. Y/N had grown to love Alfred almost as much as Jason.

“There’s nothing for him to know, Y/N.” Jason laughed. “I was trying to walk across the railing above the great hall and fell and landed on my back. I didn’t tell you because I was embarrassed, OK?”

He knew from Y/N’s face that she wasn’t convinced. But she also knew not to push someone who was in the position she thought Jason was.

But to his horror, tears started falling.

“I just…I want you know that I’d do anything for you. You can live here! My parents love you and they’d take you in! Or-or-or we can run away together – just you and me.”

Jason hated seeing her cry. She rarely ever did it. And to know he was the cause made him feel sick.

Not knowing what else to do, Jason pulled her into a hug.

“I’m OK, Y/N. Promise. You don’t have to worry about me. Please don’t cry.”

“We just have to steal some of the stupid jewelry he has laying around and we’d be set for life,” she mumbled into his shoulder.

Jason laughed and pulled away. “Bruce took me in. Gave me a better life. He’s protected me. I know you don’t believe me, but the bruises aren’t because of him.”

Y/N wiped the tears away sloppily and nodded, but they both knew that Y/N didn’t believe him.

Y/N didn’t look at Bruce the same since that day. Not that she spent a lot of time around him.

But Bruce shared a look with Jason when he received the first very harsh glare from the pre-teen girl. It ended with a very uncomfortable conversation between Bruce and Jason where the boy explained what theory Y/N had come to.

Though Bruce said very little in response, he was wracked with guilt. To learn that someone thought he had the potential to behold the evil he tried so hard to eradicate in the world? It made Bruce sick to his stomach.

———

Now Y/N stood with her head hung low, in a crowd dressed in black.

These people didn’t know Jason Todd. Maybe they played the part of mourning funeral goer well. But Y/N saw their performances still.

The only people Y/N recognized were Bruce Wayne, Alfred, and Jason’s older brother, Dick Grayson. She’d never met him before, only seen pictures of him around the manor. Jason always seemed disappointed when Y/N brought Dick up or tried to ask about him. Y/N got the impression that he wasn’t all that great of a brother to Jason. Especially when it was obvious Jason looked up to him and was desperate for some sort of fraternal relationship.

Y/N looked up at her mother when the priest was finished with whatever he was saying. His words were impersonal, sullied by religion, and did nothing to comfort Y/N. He didn’t even say one thing about what made Jason so great.

“Can we go now?” She whispered to her mother.

She patted Y/N’s back. “There’s a gathering inside the house now. We should say our condolences to Mr. Wayne and Alfred.”

Y/N frowned at that. The last person she wished to talk to was Bruce Wayne.

She had been watching the man through the entire service. He was stoic and collected. There didn’t seem to be any sadness to be found in his eyes.

The longer Y/N watched him, the angrier she became.

“Please, let’s just go,” Y/N begged her mother.

People were making there way into the manor now and weren’t paying any attention to a girl, despite the fact that she was the best and only friend of the boy they were pretending to mourn.

Her mother gave her a sympathetic look. “Honey, don’t you want to say hi to Alfred. I’m sure it would make him happy to see you.”

Y/N knew her mother was right. She could do that for Alfred. Plus, he gave the best hugs, and Y/N could sure use one of them right now.

They waited in a sort of informal line. Y/N wanted to hit everyone in front of them as she was forced to listen to their empty and rehearsed sympathies. Bruce didn’t say much in return, simply thanking each of them.

But when Y/N and her parents were finally up, Bruce Wayne’s expression shifted.

It was the first time Y/N saw any sort of emotion from the man. He looked heartbroken at the sight of Y/N, who’s hand was tightly gripping her mothers.

Bruce, standing at 6’2, knelt down to be at Y/N’s eye level.

“Hello, Y/N.” He greeted quietly so no one lingering around them could hear.

Y/N only glared at him.

If she were being honest, she was surprised he even remembered her name.

But Bruce continued. “Thank you for coming today. I’m sure the past few days haven’t been easy for you.”

Then he cleared his throat. And Y/N’s brow furrowed at the sound. Was he trying to hold back tears? No, that couldn’t be possible.

“I wanted to thank you for being such a good friend to Jason. He talked about you all the time. I’m glad he had someone like you in his life.”

Y/N felt nauseous at how genuine Bruce Wayne’s words sounded. His eyes were even more sincere.

What happened to the cold and distance man she’d had little to no interaction with?

‘He has an audience now,’ Y/N told herself. ‘He knows everyone’s watching. He’s performing just like the rest of them.’

“What did you do to him?” Y/N finally whispered to him.

Where she got the courage to speak to an adult in such a way, she had no idea – especially one as powerful as Bruce Wayne.

Bruce tensed at her question. Was that hurt in his eyes?

“Y/N!” Her mother hissed down at her.

“It was you. I know it was,” Y/N muttered as her lips trembled and tears started falling. She thought she’d run out of tears, but this was her final outburst.

“Y/N, enough!” Her mother hissed again and then made eye contact with Bruce and Alfred. “I’m so sorry. She’s not…she’s not handling any of this well.”

“You did this to him!” Y/N yelled. “He always had bruises…and-and-and cuts! You used to hurt him!”

“Y/N!” Her father finally chimed in, completely stunned by his daughter’s accusations.

“I hate you!” Y/N screamed in Bruce’s face as tears flowed down her face.

With that, she ripped her hand from her mom’s grasp and made a run for it. She heard her parents yell her name, but she ignored it and kept running.

Bruce stood up, looking unfazed from Y/N’s hateful and accusatory outburst.

“We are so, so sorry,” Y/N’s mom insisted. “She’s never done anything like that before.”

Bruce held up a hand, stopping them from continuing. “It’s alright. Really.” Then he sighed. “I’ll have Alfred go find her in a bit. Perhaps she just needs to let out some steam.”

Y/N didn’t even realize where she was running until she ended up at Jason’s bedroom.

Her entire body shook with sobs as she opened up the door.

It looked exactly the same, like nothing had even happened.

Y/N walked to the other side and slide against the giant windows, curling into a ball on the floor with her arms hugging her knees to her chest.

She cried and she cried and she cried.

There was no way for her to know how long she’d been there. But her head snapped up when there was a knock on the doorframe.

Dick Grayson leaned against the doorway with his arms crossed and a sad smile on his lips.

“Hi,” he greeted softly.

Y/N sniffed and rubbed the snot from her nose with the back of her fist, “Hi.”

“I’m Dick,” he introduced as he closed the door behind him and sat on the foot of Jason’s bed, making sure to give Y/N her space.

“I know,” Y/N answered back through a stuffy nose.

“Alfred tells me you and Jason were good friends.”

“We were each other’s only friend,” Y/N corrected him.

Dick nodded slowly.

“I hate him,” Y/N mumbled.

Dick winced. “Jason?”

“Bruce.”

“Believe it or not, I know how that feels,” he sighed.

“Did he hit you, too?” Y/N asked with wide eyes.

Dick opened his mouth, but was so shocked by the question that no words escaped.

“Why didn’t you help him?” She followed up with. “Where were you?”

Dick knew she wasn’t asking what he felt like she was: Why didn’t you stop the Joker? Why was Robin all alone? Why didn’t Batman call you for help?

But that didn’t stop her interrogation from hurting him.

“I haven’t always been there for him,” Dick finally admitted. “Actually…I’ve never really been there for him.”

Y/N looked at him with bewilderment. “Umm…” she sniffed. “I should find my parents.”

When she stood up, something caught her attention on Jason’s desk.

Y/N’s hand shook as she picked up Pride & Prejudice. He was the only middle school boy she’s ever seen reading a Jane Austen book. It was one of the reasons she wanted to befriend him in the first place.

“Keep it,” Dick surprised her by saying.

She quickly turned around and gave him a questioning look.

“You should keep it,” he told her. Then he looked at the overflowing book case she was standing near. “Take whatever ones want. He’d want you to have them.”

Y/N’s eyes flickered through the bookcase. Her heart was telling her, ‘No, they’re his books. He’ll need them when he gets back.’ But Jason Todd wasn’t coming back.

So she reached up and grabbed Jane Eyre and then Frankenstein.

“That’s it?” Dick asked. Because he would’ve let her take Jason’s entire collection.

Y/N nodded shyly.

Dick escorted her through the house and back to the gathering.

When she saw Alfred, Y/N rushed forward.

Dick’s heart ached as he saw the butler immediately kneel down and pull Y/N into a hug. He wondered what the man whispered to her. Whatever it was, it seemed to comfort her in a way that apparently nothing else was.

Then Y/N’s parents returned to her side. Dick expected them to scold her for her earlier outburst, but they just seemed concerned and started making their leave.

Y/N looked behind her and searched through the crowd to find Dick again. When she did, she gave him a sad wave.

Dick returned it with a sorrowful smile.

———

8 Years Later...

Jason had been keeping tabs on her since he returned to Gotham. He kept his distance, remained out of sight. He would jump from rooftop to rooftop as she walked home from a night class. Or he would wait for the window of her apartment bedroom to go off if it was a slow night of patrolling.

He told himself it was out of curiosity. But he knew deep down he was making sure she stayed safe.

Jason was happy to see that Y/N didn’t retain her lonesome ways in her life after his death. He frequently spotted her having dinner or drinks with friends.

But Jason didn’t know how to feel when it was clear that Y/N had no romantic partner. Was he relieved? Was he irritated that someone didn’t love and care for her the way she deserved? Would he have been jealous if there was someone in his life?

Jason wanted to find her as soon as he was brought from the dead. Even when he felt like he’d gone insane, when his thoughts didn’t make sense and he was confused…her face still echoed through his mind.

But vengeance became his priority.

And with it, Jason slowly convinced himself that it was best to stay far away from the only person he still cared about.

But that didn’t mean her didn’t want answers still.

After his war with Bruce – or really, his attempted murder Batman and the Joker – Jason allowed himself to actually look back on his old life, the parts that didn’t involve being a child vigilante.

Still not on speaking terms with Bruce. Jason decided to get his info from another source.

Cue a month or so after his brush with Bruce, Jason blindsided Dick the next time he was in Gotham and slammed him against the closest brick wall.

Jason used to look up to Dick as a kid, despite his older brother rarely even giving him the time of day.

But now, Dick was quite literally looking up at Jason.

While Jason died a 13-year-old Robin, he was now a 6’3 man who had the set of a heavyweight boxer. Dick might be more flexible and acrobatic, but Jason had brute strength.

“What? B tell all of you not to talk to me?” Jason challenged when Dick didn’t fight his hold or speak to him.

“What do you want?” Dick asked evenly.

“Why did you keep tabs on her?” Jason growled, his voice distorted through his helmet.

“Keep tabs on who?”

“Y/F/N Y/L/N.”

Dick finally had enough of being bullied and shoved Jason’s grip off him. “Why don’t you look her up yourself? I’m sure you have no issue with hacking every personal database of hers.”

“That’s not why I’m asking,” Jason growled.

In fact, Jason had already done everything Dick had suggested. Which made him see that she had made a third-party domestic violence report to the police a week or so after Jason had died. And she had kept following up with it until the police finally came clean and told her there was no evidence to support her claim and she was wasting her time.

It seemed Y/N was the only person that fought for Jason after he was gone. She had just picked the wrong fight.

“Why did you keep tabs on her?” Jason clarified.

“I just wanted to make sure she was OK.”

That caught him off guard a bit, seeing as Dick never gave a shit about Jason when he was alive. So why would he look after his best friend?

“What? Out of the goodness of your heart?” Jason ridiculed.

“She didn’t handle your death well, Jason. She even picked a fight with Bruce at your funeral.”

Jason smirked behind the safety of his helmet at the image.

Dick sighed and finally put down his defenses. “I failed you, Jason. All of us failed you.” He shook his head as he got lost in a memory. “Y/N even asked me why I hadn’t tried harder to protect you.”

Dick’s eyes saddened. “I figured if I couldn’t be there for you, the least I could do was make sure the most important person in your life was OK.”

It wasn’t the answer Jason was suspecting, but it was all he came for.

“Will you go see her?” Dick asked as he saw that Jason was about to take his leave.

“We were kids. Things have changed,” Jason grunted.

“I don’t think any of that would matter to her,” Dick defended. “I think she’d like to see you and know you’re OK.”

“Mind your business,” was the last thing Jason snapped at him before jumping off the rooftop and disappearing.

————

Jason did what he said: he left Y/N alone.

He watched over her when he could. But most importantly, he didn’t drop a ghost from the past back into her life.

But he also tried to find that ghost in himself.

Somedays he thought that Jason Todd was lost forever.

But other days, like today, he still seemed to live on.

Jason browsed through the books on the shelves. He missed so many of them when he was dead and then when he reinvented himself.

Now he saw books as a time to fill in the empty space.

He was lost reading the back of covers when he heard it. No, when he heard her.

Next thing Jason knew, he was walking toward it.

“I’m sorry, dear. We’re all sold out of that title. You should’ve reserved it weeks ago,” one of the clerks told her with sympathy.

Jason peered between the shelves and caught a glimpse of y/h/c.

“I know. I just totally spaced. I think I’ll just browse for something else. Thank you for your help.”

Her voice sounded mostly the same, maybe a bit more mature. But he still would recognize it anywhere.

Jason knew he shouldn’t move any closer.

But he couldn’t help himself.

He was just one aisle away from her now, only a bookshelf separating them.

He slowly edged around the corner and smiled as he saw the massive pile of books that Y/N was trying to juggle in her arms. When she tried adding one more, they broke free from her grasp and stumbled loudly to the ground.

Jason didn’t know what he was thinking as he jumped forward and bent down to help her pick them up.

He saw her blush, but keep her head dipped from the embarrassment.

“Thank you,” she quickly laughed as she tried to pile the books back together as fast as possible.

Y/N opened her mouth to say more, but the words got caught in her mouth when she finally met Jason’s eyes.

He wondered how different he looked to her. Could she even recognize him? Or was he fooling himself when he became convinced he was an entirely different person after being brought back from the dead?

But his questions were answered when Y/N looked in shock, only unfreezing when her eyes began to tear up.

“It’s not possible,” she said so quietly that it was barely a whisper.

“Everyone good? I heard a loud noise.” The clear interrupted loudly.

Y/N jumped in response.

Jason stood and faced the clerk, “We’re fine.”

But when he turned back around, Y/N had booked it.

“Fuck,” Jason hissed before carefully handing the books to the clerk and quickly following after Y/N.

She made it further than he would expect. He actually had to look around the streets outside the store for a moment before he could spot her.

As soon as he did, he ran. But he called her name before he reached her to make sure he didn’t terrify her more.

Y/N froze when she heard him and whipped around. “Who are you?” She asked roughly.

There was a moment, when she first met Jason’s blue eyes, where she allowed herself to believe that perhaps a miracle had occurred.

But now she only saw this as some sort of heinous prank.

“It’s me, Y/N.” Jason almost sounded like he was begging her.

She then fully took him in. Yes, he had the same face. But now he was a full-grown man – and an extremely handsome one at that.

“I shouldn’t have spooked you like that. I’m sorry.”

“You’ve been dead for 8 years,” she muttered.

“I know. It’s a…” Jesus. Jason didn’t even know how to go about this. “It’s a long and complicated story.”

“Were you ever really dead?” Then Y/N’s eyes flashed with a realization. “Did you stage your death? To get away from him?”

Bruce. She meant to get away from Bruce.

Jason looked around. This was no place to have this conversation. He couldn’t believe they were having it at all.

“Fuck. OK.” He quickly shuffled through his pockets until he found an old paper receipt and a pen. He quickly wrote something down.

“I know this is…a lot.” He ran a hand through his hair, a gesture that reminded Y/N of the Jason she used to know. “If you want nothing to do with me, I understand. You’ll never have to see me again.”

He took in a deep breath and handed her the receipt.

Y/N slowly took it and looked down to see a phone number written down.

“You deserve time and space to…” he couldn’t find the right word, “process all of this.”

Y/N watched him as if she was expecting him to vanish like some sort of hallucination.

“After you do,” Jason continued. “If you’re willing to hear me out, I’ll be there,” he told her sincerely as he gestured to the number Y/N now held in her hand.

He waited for Y/N to say something, or maybe even try to make a run for her life.

But after what felt like forever, Y/N gave a short nod.

Jason gave her a shy grin as he slowly started walking backwards. He hesitated saying one last thing for her. But his mind finally told him, ‘Fuck it.’

“I’ve missed you, Y/N.”

————

Jason told himself not to get his hopes up. Y/N had every right to be horrified by him and wish to never see him again. From what Dick described, Y/N hadn’t handled Jason’s death well at all. What child could?

But when Jason got a text from Y/N’s number a week later, asking him to come to her place, he couldn’t help but beam.

Except reality then quickly settled in. And it reminded Jason that this conversation would involve talking about his past for the first time.

‘Suck it up. She deserves to know,’ he heard his past self screaming in his mind.

An hour later, Jason was knocking on Y/N’s apartment door.

“Hi,” she greeted stiffly.

“Hi.”

She led him to her bedroom. “My roommates aren’t home right now. But who knows how long that’ll last.”

Jason didn’t stop himself from looking around. Maybe it was a habit, all of his training of taking in every new environment with acute detail. But really Jason just wanted to take in Y/N and her new life.

That’s when he spotted the three books.

Jason immediately reached for one of them.

“Oh,” Y/N said sadly as she saw what he grabbed. “Umm…Dick told me I could take those. He…umm…said you’d want me to have them.”

“You kept them all this time?” He muttered, still looking at Pride & Prejudice.

“Of course.” Then a thought suddenly occurred to her. “You can have them back. I mean, they’re yours after all.”

Jason smirked at her fumbling. “No, keep ‘em.”

Then the tension from this strange reunion returned to the room.

Y/N gave him a heartbroken look and sat on the edge of her bed. “Jason,” she whispered, “what the hell happened to you?”

Jason slowly joined her on the bed.

His breathing shook as he tried to prepare.

But Y/N deserved to know the truth – the whole truth.

So he told her everything. He told her he was Robin. He told her how he died. He told her how he came back to life. He told her where he’d been.

The only thing he left out was how she was all he could think about when he watched the bomb tick down to 0 and he knew he was about to die.

But the hardest part was explaining why returning to her wasn’t the first thing he did.

“It wasn’t Bruce. It…you…you were Robin that whole time?” Y/N couldn’t even seem to process it.

Jason just gave a curt nod.

“I reported him,” Y/N gasped. “I was convinced he had something to do with your death.”

Jason winced at that. “Well, if you asked him, I’m sure he’d take responsibility for it still.”

Y/N’s eyes glazed over as she tried to take another look at the past now that she knew the real truth that had been hidden. So many things made sense: all the injuries, Bruce’s behavior, Dick being a distant brother – all of it.

“Y/N,” Jason whispered. Her eyes whipped to his. “I’m so sorry for leaving you like that.”

Y/N finally allowed herself to cry. “Missing you is the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.”

Jason didn’t care about keeping his distance any longer. He pulled Y/N into his arms, just like he used to when they were kids.

Eventually, her crying slowed and Jason knew he needed to finally say the hardest thing about this all.

“But I can’t stay, Y/N.”

Y/N wasn’t expecting that. “What?”

“I’m not…I’m not that kid anymore. I’ve done things – terrible things – that won’t ever let me return to the person you knew.”

“I don’t care,” Y/N said surprisingly harsh.

“What?”

“I said I don’t care,” even though she knew he heard her. “You think I’m the same person after 8 years, Jason? You think that little girl didn’t face the consequences of losing the best friend she’s ever had?”

Jason didn’t know what to say to that.

Y/N wiped away her tears and her entire body shifted. “From everything you’ve told me, you don’t seem to have many friends – if any. So, sounds like you could use one.”

How could Jason have overlooked Y/N’s stubbornness when he anticipated how this would all end?

“I lost you once. I’m not losing you again. Especially not with all I know now,” she added.

Jason didn’t even bother fighting her on it. Y/N had always been his greatest weakness. At least he knew that hadn’t changed.

“OK.” He agreed. “So what now?”

Y/N smiled at his surrender. “Now…we have a whole lot of catching up to do.”

--------------------

Wow. I did not realize how long this was going to take me.

Please, please, please let me know what you think. Reactions and feedback and reblogs are the only thing that keep me writing on here.

#batfam #batman family #jason todd #jason todd fic #jason todd x reader #jason todd reader insert #batfam reader insert #bruce wayne #dick grayson #alfred pennyworth #batman universe #batman fandom #dc universe #red hood #red hood x reader #red hood reader insert

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dryyoursaltyoceantears · 3 years ago

Text

Thinking About You, You’re In My Head

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Word Count: 2338

Warning: Angst, Toxic Relationship - Loki being a narcissist, mention of death (not major characters), excessive amount of alcohol drinking, implied smut, (I guess that’s pretty much it? Please let me know if I miss anything!)

Summary:

You were in a pretty toxic relationship with Loki, and you decided to end it in a moment of outburst. You had to carry on living your life, but what can you say? You always find yourself wanting to run back to him. This is a Loki fic, inspired by the song “Monsters” by All Time Low. The bold paragraph means it’s a flashback scene.

A/N. This is my first time writing in second POV, and truthfully been years since I wrote anything, so I’m open for suggestion!

You could’ve sworn yesterday was a really good day in your book. For the first time in weeks since you told Loki, the God of Mischief, you two were done for good. You managed to wake up early, went for a quick jog, took a nice shower, and put your makeup on before arriving at work 30 minutes early, giving you enough time to prepare for the back-to-back meetings that took place throughout the day. You were finally sorting your shit together and you ended the day at work on a high note.

Another day, 'nother headache in this hangover hotel

Gettin' used to the rhythm, yeah, I know this beat too well

Tunnel vision's got me feeling like you're the only one I see

But I know what's missing when I'm swimmin'

In my lonely luxury

Yet here you are, head’s pounding and you couldn’t even bring yourself to sit because all of your body hurts. Your room smells like a mix of whisky and cheap wine because that’s all you drank last night. A big day deserves a celebration, you thought. At least that’s what your intention was when you poured that expensive whiskey your boss had given you. That is until you notice the book on your coffee table in the living room. Jane Austen’s Persuasion. The last book your former lover had given you.

The last thing you remember last night was breaking down over a book, one hand holding a glass full of your expensive whiskey, the other holding a bottle of cheap chardonnay you always keep at home. The one that you’re still holding when the sun made its way up and all you feel is pain from the breakup. Good thing is, today’s your day off so you don’t have to worry about making your way out of the house to be “productive”.

Today, you get to stay in, eat some leftovers and maybe clean your house. You stayed still in the deafening silence. Truthfully, you miss having him on your bed. You miss hearing his voice when he talks about his day, or how he saved the day, even when he started talking about... Himself even more. You love his soothing voice, or when he started to get excited, you love it even more. It’s just that one thing that always bothers you. He can’t stop making everything about himself. Just like that night when you broke up with him.

The yelling started when you heard the news of your coworker passing away. She was one of your best friends at work. You took that news hard. Harder than most of the people at work. She was always that one person who can make your job easier and less complicated so when you found out she had passed away, it took its toll on you. All you wanted was to come home and cry your grief out.

“My love! Welcome home!” Loki yelled as soon as you opened the door to your one-room apartment. His voice was a little distant, so you figured he must have been calling from the balcony.

“Loki, Thank God you’re home.” You breathed a relieved sigh and ran straight towards where he was. “A good friend of mine pass…” and just like that, he cut you off.

“I’ve got you a book, my love,” Loki said as he held you close, certainly not noticing your state as he went on. “Found them in this small bookshop. I have never read this and I don’t think you have as well. Because I have never heard you speak about this book so..”

You swore he was talking about how the book appealed to him, so during his excitement, you look up with a tear-stained face. He didn’t even notice you were crying on his chest, and in that moment, something in you snapped and you took a step back.

“Did you even hear what I said? My friend passed away. She died!”

“Oh, I’m sorry. But here… Maybe the book can make you feel better? After all, I did have to go through all that crazy things in the mission before I got to this book.” He said so casually, as he handed you the book.

The rest of the evening was filled with you yelling and him standing so tall with his chin up, hovering over your yelling and crying mess. You were tired of always enabling him, tonight, you just wanted him to baby you. Make it for once about you. But what he said broke your heart.

“What do you want me to say, Y/N?! Mortals die. That's what they do!” Loki said, raising his voice just a little while still maintaining his calm demeanor.

You stared at Loki with disbelief. How could he say that? How could he be this calm? You’re a mortal as well. Does he not remember that?

“In case you forgot, Loki, so am I.” This time, you managed to keep yourself from yelling. You just stared at the God in front of you and all the words you’ve been wanting to tell him came out with no filter.

“You know what? You’re too full of yourself, Loki. I can’t keep telling myself you just need someone to support and love you. In a relationship, couples take and give. You take what you want, and you give what would make you happy. Leave, Loki. Please.” You said in a single breath and turned your back towards him. You could hear his steps going further and when the door closed, that’s when you fall apart.

I'm wondering why do all the monsters come out at night?

Why do we sleep where we want to hide?

Why do I run back to you

Like I don't mind if you fuck up my life?

Why am I a sucker for all your lies?

Strung out like laundry on every line

Why do I come back to you

Like I don't mind if you fuck up my life?

Another day has gone by, the moonlight is the only thing that lights up your room because you know if you turn the light on, every corner of this room, every corner of this place would only remind you of him. The God of Mischief had finally taken over your mind for the night. You remember the sweet, cute, pet names he had called you over the years you’ve been together.

The memories you two have made in this room on the very same bed, you are sleeping on. This was the bed he had always preferred to come home to. Despite his beautiful room in the Avengers compound, he always went to your place.

As you chugged on your last few drops of chardonnay, you grab a pillow and you hugged it as if it were the God of Mischief himself. It had been weeks since he was last here on your bed, and even though your room now smells like a combination of cheap wine and lavender-scented candle, you can still smell the faint scent of him. It was intoxicating. You could’ve sworn the pillow and this bed smells like his musk, mixed with sex.

I'm addicted to the way you hurt, the way you contradict me

I swear everything look worse at night, I think I'm overthinking

I don't care who I might hurt along the way, I'm fuckin' sinking

Into every word, I don't care if you're lyin' when I'm drinking

So, tell me pretty lies, look me in my face

Tell me that you love me, even if it's fake

You can lead me on and leave these questions in my sheets

I'm under it, I made my bed and I'm still wonderin'

“My sweet, why aren’t you asleep yet?” Loki asked with eyes still closed.

It was half-past two in the morning, and your brain can’t seem to remember how to relax. That meeting you had in the morning was a bad one and you can’t stop yourself from pointing out every wrong thing you said.

“Is the meeting still bothering you?” this time, his eyes were wide open and he sat straight up. His back against the headboard of your bed.

He laid his head on your shoulder, slowly showering you with small kisses on your neck, no words came out of his lip but it felt magic against your skin. Loki was always slightly colder than you, and it’s a wonderful feeling on a night like that night.

“There is no need for you to say anything, Princess. Give in, let me take all those worries tonight.” He whispered before he waved his hand and magically removing all of the pieces of clothes you two were wearing.

“You don’t have to tell me anything, no need to say what you want or need, I know them. I love you, my sweet.” Loki said as he kissed you passionately before the night came to an end.

And that’s how your nights always end. With him, making sweet love to you, whispering beautiful things to your ears, and never you telling him what was bothering you. Always. He always gets the last say.

Thinkin' about you, you're in my head

Even without you, I still feel dead

Why do I run back to you

Like I don't mind if you fuck up my life?

Dead, thinking about you, you're in my head

Even without you, I still feel dead

Why do I run back to you

Like I don't mind if you fuck up my life?

The clock on your bedside table had shown 10.30 pm. You were hungry but had no energy to even pick yourself up from bed. You want to drown in the idea of you and Loki, being okay together. Maybe you were overreacting that night. Or even maybe, just maybe, he can change if you would beg him to. Your chardonnay is long forgotten by the time you open your phone’s photo gallery.

You still haven’t gotten the heart to remove all of your pictures together permanently. To be frank, you don’t think you ever could. These pictures captured the best memories of your life. He pushed you into doing a lot of your firsts. Those things you thought you’d never have the courage to. Like going to Africa and go on that safari night.

Loki was not someone who was constantly looking for thrills, but he looked enough just to encourage you to do the same. He was the element that is missing in your life. He’s the chaos that you can manage, his impulsivity balanced out your perfectly planned life, and he’s the only one to ever truly made you feel alive. So you cry and you cry until there are no more tears left.

You still feel like shit, but the growling in your stomach finally snapped you out of your own head. You may feel like shit but you still have to eat something so you can function when you have to go to work the following day. So you got yourself out, stopped yourself from pouring another liquor in your glass, and manage to reach the kitchen to reheat your leftover lasagna.

While you were waiting for the microwave to beep, someone rang your doorbell. It was almost midnight yet you still dragged your feet to the front door and look through your peephole. On the other side of your apartment door is the God of Mischief, looking almost as miserable as you.

I'm wondering why do all the monsters come out at night?

Why do we sleep where we want to hide?

Why do I run back to you

Like I don't mind if you fuck up my life?

Why am I a sucker for all your lies?

Strung out like laundry on every line

Why do I come back to you

Like I don't mind if you fuck up my life?

“I know you’re on the other side of the door, Y/N. I fucked up and I know I fucked up big but I need to apologize, please open the door.” He said, leaning towards the door.

Your heart is broken, everyone knows that but when you see him in such a state, it shatters. Loki, the person you could have sworn is the love of your life, is standing in front of your place, looking just as miserable as you. No matter how hard you try, so you do what he asked of you. You once again open your door for the God of Mischief and let him in.

You noticed the frown on his face when he sees you. You know he felt miserable for hurting you like this. All he wants right now is to hug and kiss you, hold you as if his life depends on you. But he won’t. He won’t do that, he won’t cross your boundaries this time.

“I’m sorry for hurting you. I want to do this right, I want to love you the right way this time. So I went and get the help I need to be a good person for you. I go to see Bucky’s therapy and found out that I am in need of help.” He said in a single breath as soon as you closed the door.

You have no idea how to respond t that, but instead of making him leave, you invite him to eat your leftover lasagna, and he accepts.

“Do you want to stay the night?” You asked him, your voice, barely above a whisper as you looked up at Loki and sees him nods.

He was smiling at you, and the next thing you know, he picks up your dirty plate and starts cleaning around. He might have hurt you in the past, but maybe, just maybe, he really is a changed man. It is a good enough reason for you to come running back towards the God of Mischief, and that’s the only reason you need.

#loki fic #Loki imagine #loki angst #loki fluff #reader insert #Loki Laufeyson #loki one shot #loki x reader #loki x y/n #loki smut #implied smut #all time low #monsters #songfic #mcu loki #loki friggason #marvel fanfiction #marvel imagine

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darthkruge · 4 years ago

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hey could you do a jess mariano x reader where the reader has dyslexia but loves to read. someone at school makes a comment about her being dumb and she gets insecure but jess is super reassuring to the reader about how intelligent she is. also they can either be already dating or have mutual crushes. whatever you think fits better. <3

Jess Mariano x Dyslexic!Reader ~ All of You

Summary: Someone at school insults the dyslexic reader and their boyfriend, Jess, provides reassurance.

Warnings: Bullying, language, insecurities, I think that’s it?

Words: 2.1k

A/N: Hey!! I’m so, so sorry this took me so long to get to! I hope you don’t mind, I didn’t mean to keep you in the ask box void. I really enjoyed writing this, so thank you for requesting! I decided to make them already be dating because that’s where my brain went hehe. I hope you like it :)

You walked to school hand-in-hand with your boyfriend, as always. Even though it took him about 15-20 minutes out of the way, Jess never missed walking with you. He hated the thought of you starting your day by yourself and never wanted you to feel forgotten about or lonely. Thus, the tradition began and it has stayed the way you start your day, everyday, for the last few months that you’ve been dating.

Jess pulled you behind the science building, pressing his lips to yours. Your hands instinctively wove into his hair and his arms wound around your waist, pulling your bodies together. He smiled into the kiss before pulling away from your lips and gently moving his kisses down the side of your neck. You hummed in content before moving to meet his face again, once again pressing your lips to his.

These stolen moments were what you lived for. You’d never felt too confident in yourself, at least as far as relationships went, and you weren’t used to this kind of affection. Even so, you loved every moment of it. Everything with Jess felt so natural. No matter what, you came first to him and he never failed to show it.

You both pulled away and he softly kissed your forehead.

“See you after second period?”

“Of course”

“Okay, love. Text me if you need me. Or if you’re bored. Or if you miss me”

“Oh, yes! That Jess Mariano charm. I’m not sure how I’ll endure two classes without it!”

“I’m sure it’ll prove quite e difficult,” Jess said, laughing. The bell rang and he gave you one last smile before you parted.

You walked into your English class with a smile on your face, giddy after the experience with him. He made you feel alive. It was the kind of feeling you didn’t know you needed, but once you felt it you couldn’t imagine losing it.

You sat down in your seat, waiting for the teacher to start class.

“Okay, everyone. Today we’re just going to be doing some silent reading for the first half of class and then I’ll put you in small groups to work on a new project”

Fuck. Group projects were the fucking worst. Unless you got one of your friends, people were normally assholes and impossible to work with.

Even though you were upset with the new development, you were excited to have time to read. You pulled out your copy of The Great Gatsby that Jess had lent you and picked up where you last left off. Because you read so much and generally did well or at least half-decent in school, people never assumed you had dyslexia. Lots of people had this false narrative that if you have dyslexia, you must hate reading. It was something you were used to, the stupid comments and assumptions. You tried to not let it get to you but you sometimes felt frustrated. You’d run into loads of ignorant people in your life and while you weren’t ashamed to have dyslexia, you hated having to explain it to every new teacher, every new friend in your life. You never knew how’d they’d react.

Even so, reading was one of your greatest joys in life. Losing yourself in the work, in the story, it was enthralling. You loved to find characters that you connected with. Their emotions were palpable and made you feel validated and less alone. Reading was one of the main things that brought you and Jess together. He knew you had dyslexia and, thankfully, never treated you like you were any less. You were afraid he would break up with you once you told him, but, of course, he didn’t. You were still you, and that’s all he cared about.

He loved trading books with you and hearing your thoughts on them. In doing so, he felt the two of you were brought closer together. Discussing literature was an almost intimate experience in your relationship. Learning which characters and themes resonated with a person was truly illuminating about their personality and mind. Right now, as you read Gatsby, Jess was reading Pride and Prejudice. You loved Jane Austen, as did Jess, and you completely enjoyed discussing her work.

After a few moments lost in thought, your teacher’s voice pulled you back to the present. “Alright! Okay so for the group project you will be analyzing the short story “The Lottery” by Shirley Jackson. Please read it together today and discuss what you think the most pertinent theme is. I’ve already assigned the groups and I’ll display them on the board right now.”

Your teacher stepped back and turned on the projector so you could see the groups. Scanning for your name, you internally groaned when you saw who you were with. Sarah, Justin, and Alex. They were all close and their friend group didn’t exactly have the best reputation. You grabbed your bag, walked over to them, and sat down.

“So, y’all just wanna read it? Then just talk about it, I guess. We’re looking for themes, right?” Sarah asked.

Everyone nodded, opening up the copies of the short story placed on your desks. You jumped in and immediately felt yourself pulled into the writing. After a few minutes, your eyes glued to the story, you heard the rest of your group closing their packets.

“Alright, everyone done?” Justin asked.

“Yeah, you?” Alex said

Sarah nodded in agreement.

You, on the other hand, felt your cheeks flush. You were only about 70% through the story. “Sorry, I just need a bit more time, is that okay?”

“Ugh, fine, whatever. Just hurry up,” Sarah groaned.

Your face burning, you went back to the reading. It wasn’t like you weren’t trying, you were! They just wouldn’t understand it. You couldn’t count the amount of times people had told you to just “focus more”. It made your blood boil, honestly. It was so dismissive and you couldn't believe people still thought that way. You always focused and it wasn’t your fault, and, yet, morons like these three persisted. After a few more minutes, you heard Alex again.

“Come on! You can’t possibly still be reading?”

“I’m sorry, just-” You sighed, running your hands through your hair. “Please, just a few more minutes?”

“God, you’re so fucking stupid. No wonder no one wants to work with you. All you do is hold people up, you’re a goddamn idiot” Alex said.

Your eyes burned and unshed tears started to push their way up but you fought them down. You wouldn’t let yourself cry in front of them. They didn’t deserve to see how they’d affected you.

Finally, the bell went off and you were able to leave. Your group glared at you and you realized you hadn’t discussed the themes.

“It’s, um, the story’s about the juxtaposition of peace and violence. Even though the people are in a calm, controlled setting, they resort to violence every year. It’s an outdated tradition they keep up and, thus, it highlights the difference between their actions and how they want to be perceived.” You said quickly, voice wavering.

Your group scoffed before walking off. That didn’t bother you too much. You knew your analysis was accurate and probably far better than anything they could have come up with, even if they’d spent the last 15 minutes of class discussing it. Despite this, you still felt deflated. The shit they’d said, the way they’d treated you? You couldn’t deny it, it got to you.

You walked over to your locker and put your stuff away. After that, you decided you were just going to go home. You could call the school later and say you were feeling sick or something. Honestly, you couldn’t bring yourself to care. You were just so drained, you needed to get away from this place and the people in it.

However, you didn’t want Jess to worry. You sent him a quick text saying you weren’t feeling well and put on your headphones before walking out of the school.

What you didn’t expect was Jess to come flying out of nowhere, appearing by your side as if you’d summoned him.

“Jess! What are you doing? Don’t you have class!”

He shrugged. “You weren’t feeling well. Did you honestly expect I’d leave you by yourself? And, seriously, Y/N, you know I hate this place. You’re the only thing that makes it bearable so if you wouldn’t be here, why should I?”

You nodded and kept walking forward. Jess looked at you quizzically, trying to decode your dejected state. He kept quiet, knowing not to push you to talk. He trusted you’d come to him when you were ready. Therefore, he simply followed you until you made it off campus, where you turned into a random alley and suddenly stopped walking.

Jess caught himself, almost running right into you. You suddenly turned around, dropped your bag, and bolted right into his chest. He was caught off guard but instinctively brought his arms around you, trying to comfort you. He noticed you were crying, your broken sobs getting muffled in his shirt. He soothingly rubbed his arms up and down your back, desperately trying to give you solace. After you finally quieted down, Jess gently and slowly pulled you back.

His hands gripped your shoulders as he studied your face, your sad gaze meeting his. “What happened?”

“Stupid English, that’s all”

“Come on, Y/N, don’t shut me out. What happened?” He said, his tone kind.

“I-” You trailed off, trying to keep your composure. “Some kids just said some shit. I was just reading slower than them and they said some shit. It’s not a big deal, I just- it got to me, okay?”

“Who?” Jess said, firmly this time.

“Jess-”

“Who, Y/N?”

“Alex, Justin, and Sarah.”

Jess groaned, rubbing the heels of his hands over his eyes. “Fuck them, Y/N. They’re fucking ridiculous and they don’t know anything about you”

“I know, I know. That’s why I’m so goddamn frustrated! Because, like, it did get to me. Jess- Jess, they’re right. I felt like an idiot today, I felt stupid. And I hate feeling that way!” Hot tears smarmed in your eyes, the frustration and anger bringing them out.

Jess’s gaze softened. As livid as he felt toward the three of them, he knew that’s not what you needed right now.

“Hey, hey, hey. Love, take a breath. I’ve got you, okay?”

You nodded, your breathing shaky from the stress of the day.

“I’m sorry that happened today. Listen to me, Y/N. You’re so smart. You’re smarter than I am, hell, you’re smarter than anyone at that school! They’ve got nothing on you!”

You looked at him and smiled at his words but shook your head. “You don’t need to do that, Jess”

“Yes, I do. We promised we’d be honest in our relationship, right? Well, that’s all I’m doing. Seriously, Y/N, who else at that school could debate the themes in literature with me like you? Who could discuss the importance of accurate representation in books with me? Who could talk to me about just how influential YA books are and why they should be taken seriously-?”

“They are and they should!” You cut in.

Jess laughs, nodding in agreement. “Exactly!! You’re amazing, Y/N. And I swear those fuckheads are gonna get what’s coming to them”

“Jess-” You warn.

“Okay, okay!” He laughed, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “They just- they messed with you and made you upset and I fucking hate that”

“I hated it too. I hate doubting myself because of my dyslexia. I feel so shit about myself when I get in that headspace and I start spiraling and it gets out of control so fast.”

“I know. It’s not your fault when those spirals happen. And I know you know this, but I’m just gonna remind you: you’re not any less because you’re dyslexic. It doesn’t make you stupid or anything. It’s a part of you and I love you, all of you”

Your heart swelled at his words. Everyone thought Jess wasn’t good expressing his emotions but you knew the truth. He was quite eloquent when he wanted to be, he just sometimes had trouble with vulnerability. You didn’t blame him for it, with his past it made perfect sense. But when you needed that reassurement, that compassion, you could always count on him for it.

He moved to place a kiss on your forehead before slinging his arm around your shoulder. “Let’s go home, okay?”

“Okay” You smiled up at him and kissed him once more before tucking your head into his shoulder. He pulled you closer and you grabbed his free hand with yours as you continued to walk through the Stars Hollow streets together.

#jess mariano x reader #jess mariano #jess mariano x you #jess mariano fanfic #jess mariano fic #jess mariano imagine #jess mariano imagines #jess mariano x gn!reader #jess mariano x gender neutral reader #jess mariano x dyslexic reader #jess mariano x dyslexic!reader #gilmore girls x reader

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