aubreycasuallyobsesses - Tumblr blog

[aubreycasuallyobsesses]

Purely OG robrey caos.

Our latest obsessions looking fierce af.

[aubreycasuallyobsesses]

maeve is the icon we all need this year.

Jackson: can I have your number?

Maeve, texting on phone: I don’t have a phone.

[aubreycasuallyobsesses]

Pom poms, chains and one crop top later, here we are 😈

[aubreycasuallyobsesses]

What are you doing New Year’s Eve?

Jeronica Nation!

We are entering the thick of the New Year of 2020 and what better way to kickstart the roaring 20’s with our very first Jeronica Week!

@aubreycasuallyobsesses, @hitchhikersguidetotheuniverse and I ( @veronicassadboi ) have collated a list of prompts to get the New Year started!

What are you doing New Years Eve?

Masquerade

All That Glitters (up to your interpretation)

Black + White

Casino Night

1920’s Hollywood

A Night out in Paris

New Year, New Me

Feel free to join in on any prompt, posting will begin on Saturday, 25th of January and ending on Friday, 31st of January to bring in the closing of the first month of 2020!

Tag your work with: newyearjeronicaweek20 so we can add it to the blog!

A thank you to @hitchhikersguidetotheuniverse for all your ideas and help to get our jeronica week prompts! And of course, my entire world, @aubreycasuallyobsesses for always doing everything with me!

[aubreycasuallyobsesses]

Hell, with a side of pep.

[aubreycasuallyobsesses]

Get in witches, we’re going to hell 😈

[aubreycasuallyobsesses]

veronica (formerly lodge) luna makes a thoughtless wish on her 30th birthday. with some magical intervention from a greendale blonde, she gets thrown back in time to some innocuous moments that have the potential to change not only the past but the future as well.

HAPPY CHIRSTMAS KRYSTIN @half-ok! I hope you enjoy this! I will be 100% honest when I say the concept of this story has definitely gotten away from me and will be an on-going work. I wish I was better at time management and could present you with a completed work but here we are instead.

[aubreycasuallyobsesses]

So here is my Secret Santa present for @winterova which is a moodboard for what supposed to be a fanfic as a present that accidentaly got deleted by my younger cousin as he was playing on my laptop. So sorry to dissapoint.

The fanfic was suppossed to be called a Runaway Christmas and it was about Veronica daring Jughead to run away from Riverdale with her instead of spending Christmas with his family.

[aubreycasuallyobsesses]

Paper Towns Trailer (Jeronica Version)

Merry Christmas Jeronica Nation!!! I love you all so much and hope that you enjoy this little gift!

[aubreycasuallyobsesses]

A Christmas Miracle

Summary:

When Jughead Jones had left his cozy New York life to spend Christmas in Riverdale, he hadn’t expected anything other then some quality time with his dad and sister. He certainly hadn’t been looking for love.

Read it here; Ao3, or tap the moodboard! 

Surprise! @veronicassadboi​ it’s me, your Secret Santa! I hope you enjoy this little story and have a wonderful Christmas!!

[aubreycasuallyobsesses]

@kindnessinpain2000 okay, twist my arm :’) I’ll do at least one other part, maybe even a few more—I thought of some new ideas tonight while scrolling some blogs about the regency+Georgian eras 😈

I appreciate all your kind words! I’m so happy you loved the addition of Byron and Shelly, they’re two of my favorites ✨

Sweet, Sweet is the Greeting of Eyes pt. 1

Lady Veronica x Forsythe Pendleton Jones III

Summary: It’s 1819 England—two young adults have found a mutual admiration for each other over hours of exchanging words about poetry, literature, science and the arts. The first, Lady Veronica, is wealthy beyond imagination, but so isolated in her country home. The second is Forsythe Pendleton Jones III, an academic who thrived while educating the underprivileged youths of London. The bond they slowly form over time is what they both want and crave…but what did it all mean for their own futures - both together, and singularly.

Notes: Oh my god. This is my first ever actual fic, let alone a regency!au, I hope you like it @kindnessinpain2000 , time got away from me this month, but this was fun to create! I really loved all your requests, but this vibe really stuck in my mind. I think I’ll probably do 1-2 more parts if you love this…Happy Holidays love! Also, I know the title is from a John Keats poem he wrote in a letter in June 1818, to George and Georgiana Keats - which was first published in 1925, but I swear it’s something they’d exchange in this fic, so I’m going with it. 

Warnings: Honestly none, maybe just some major slow burn, and a touch of the typical moody Jughead we know and love.

X

It was 1819 and spring was finally here. As he approached Pembrooke, hired on as a tutor by one of the wealthiest families on this side of Oxford, he couldn’t help but miss the city. The constant change of faces, never-ending booksellers and his students. He taught underprivileged teens and young adults how to read. Watching each come alive while reading his favorite literature was fascinating to him. Leaving London for permanent employment at a country house didn’t spark anything thrilling for him, but the financial security felt like a need due to unforeseen familial issues that recently arose. Little did he know his entire future would be upended soon enough.

Forsythe Pendleton Jones III was an academic who had a way with words. Compared to others of a similar age, he was incredibly well educated. With a swath of floppy dark brown waves, a stare that could pierce one’s soul and an air of mystery behind his eyes. Women of all ages noticed him. He was never one for romance, he could be, but no one intrigued him longer than a few minutes. That is until he walked into the entrance hall of the country home. He was greeted by The Lord and Lady Pembrooke and more specifically their only daughter, Lady Veronica.

As the weeks passed and time turned to months, he fell into a simple routine, or as simple as one could get existing within this environment. His mornings consisted of tea, reading alone in the study prior to making his way to the north library for daily education. He tutored Lord Pembrooke’s young nephews from Spain, who now lived in England year-round. Although compared to his typical London pupils, they had been exposed at an early age to some of the best literature, art, music, mathematics, and sciences one could afford. However, just like his former pupils, the boys still had that spark in their eye and an excitement for learning. Most days were spent this way, with evenings in the library, where he often read aloud to the family and distant relatives or friends of the Lord and Lady who spent weekends in the country.

During the seemingly endless evenings immersed in a book, he grew to look forward to Saturdays most. This was when Lady Veronica read to the boys in the afternoons while he prepared the lessons for the following week. Oftentimes he found himself distracted and lost in thought while she took over the study with her voice, which was so unlike him. Where were these thoughts creeping in from, why her of all people, it’s not like he had a chance to ever publicly declare he had these thoughts about her. They were from two very different backgrounds, while he was well off and had some slight social advantages, her father would never allow for their lives to intertwine romantically.

It was after one of these weekend afternoons, while he was lost in a recently published science essay for the boys Monday lessons, that he looked up just as Lady Veronica passed by the desk and softly dropped a small envelope on his never-ending stack of textbooks. After they shared a mutually discreet glance, she was gone from the room. Although he was anxious to rip the parchment open and delve into whatever she had written to him, he slowly collected his papers, books, quills, sure to not forget her mysterious note and with haste escaped to his living quarters in the north wing. Once inside, he settled at his chair near the window to unseal the unassuming note. He was immediately caught by her graceful and quickly scrawled words. It was not known that he had a fondness for the romantic sonnets of the past and present, but more specifically Lord George Byron. How she had known this, he assumed was purely coincidental.

And like music on the waters    Is thy sweet voice to me: When, as if its sound were causing The charmed ocean’s pausing, The waves lie still and gleaming, And the lull’d winds seem dreaming:                Meet me in the garden at half-past dusk tomorrow…LV.

Moving from the window to his desk, removing a quill, some parchment and settling in to contemplate how to reply. He needed to write something in such a way that conveyed every thought of her that occupied his mind, without seeming entirely too infatuated or overbearing,  he scrawled down, not his own words, but Percy Bysshe Shelly.

Thy gentle words are drops of balm

  In life’s too bitter bowl;

These choicest blessings I have

       known.

Harriet! If all who long to live

 In the warm sunshine of thine eyes, -F

After sealing the small note, Forsythe needed to find a moment to slip it to her unnoticed. The family resided in the east wing, which he rarely ventured to. It needed to be inconspicuous; however, he could hardly ask her lady’s maid, Elisbeth to hand off the note to her without stirring up whispers among the others. He decided to wait until after their shared family meal, and while he selected a book to read that evening. She routinely wandered the library and would choose favorites for him to read passages from, while Lord and Lady Pembrooke said their goodnights to the boys prior to joining for the evening. Tonight while he handed off a Wordsworth’s An Evening Walk and Descriptive Sketches, to her, they shared a quick glance and brushed fingertips. With his small token of admiration tucked inside the cover.

The night passed excruciatingly too slow for him. The following day, while he enjoyed the time spent delving into their expansive literature collection, he wanted nothing more than to somehow speed time and space up to get through the next day. Although he had a leisurely day of riding with Lord Pembrooke in the northeastern Cotswolds, on which Pembrooke sat with all of its stately, silent power - his mind was consumed entirely by Lady Veronica throughout the afternoon outing. Lord Pembrooke continued to engage in conversation with him throughout the day gone, most of which consisted of him trying to convince Forsythe into participating in his humorous antics with his valet and the young men who rode along. It was a pleasant escape from the normal academic rigors of the last weeks, but he wanted nothing more than for dusk to finally arrive.

With time finally on his side, he made his way out the north side exit to the sweeping gardens south of the home, he couldn’t help but feel a small sliver of anxiety. This is not something he normally did. Secret stolen glances, mysterious garden strolls with a woman of her caliber were just not things Forsythe Pendleton Jones III participated in. But there was something different about Lady Veronica. She was an enigma. Other ladies of a similar age were already well acquainted with love and romance, oftentimes already marrying a gentleman of significant family power and notoriety. Yet, here she was, sharing mutual glances with him over literature. Discussing the works of today’s most influential authors and poets with him in the study throughout the days. How had fate placed her in his path, was this to be a fleeting moment or the start of something more.  

Lost in wandering a section covered in soft moss and wildflowers near the outskirts of the garden, he hadn’t heard her approach. Suddenly she was next to him and he was unable to form a coherent thought to create a sentence. Luckily for him, she took the lead, “Hello Forsythe, I see you have found yourself in my absolute favorite section of my mother’s garden, shall we walk?” She slipped her graceful hand into the nook of his arm and thus began their secret conversations.

As they wandered aimlessly throughout the Pembrooke’s unparalleled garden, they shared slowly about their favorite topics, uncovering what made their minds operate. When each realized, unbeknownst to them, that this was not going to be a singular incident. They were discovering that there was another soul in the universe that related to their own mind, even heart, so closely. Just as they were rounding another corner of the labyrinth they had aimlessly strolled into, thunder was heard above. Soon enough it was a ceaseless rainfall. Removing his tailcoat and draping it over her small frame, they found refuge from the summer storm, in the small garden pavilion.

While waiting for the rain to cease, they sat in comfortable silence. Each reveling in the absolute quiet that always happens during a particularly hard rainfall. While she watched the garden and contained all the words that he too was holding back for fear of breaking the magic spell that fell over them. He couldn’t help but let his mind wander again. To all of the countless times he had admired, not just her mind, but her outward beauty as well. She had dark hair, just a shade darker than his own, nearly the color of a raven’s feathers. With facial features that he saw as almost exotic compared to other women he saw while living in London, yet her face was also so familiar to him. Lost in his own mind yet again, he hadn’t noticed that she glanced over while he leaned back against the pillar of the stone pavilion. With a smirk on her face and a devilish glint in her eye, “Forsythe, dare I say we escape this cold night and make a run for shelter?”

After giving hardly any thought to the inquiry, “Oh, Lady Veronica, I thought you would like to stay here, with me and exist in this freezing realm of silence forever?”

With a laugh and a shake of her raven-haired head, she said, “I should never leave if I didn’t have to Forsythe.” Taking her hand, he whisked her into the storm across the garden, in the direction of Pembrooke.

As they ran towards the warmth of the fireplaces and dry clothing that awaited each of them inside. Unknown to each of them was what fate truly did have in store for them. The neverending hours wandering the gardens, learning the deepest feelings of one another. The endless laughs exchanged over comedic books, reading poems, literature and countless notes covertly exchanged. What it all meant for their own futures - both together, and singularly.

[aubreycasuallyobsesses]

Sweet, Sweet is the Greeting of Eyes pt. 1

Lady Veronica x Forsythe Pendleton Jones III

Summary: It’s 1819 England—two young adults have found a mutual admiration for each other over hours of exchanging words about poetry, literature, science and the arts. The first, Lady Veronica, is wealthy beyond imagination, but so isolated in her country home. The second is Forsythe Pendleton Jones III, an academic who thrived while educating the underprivileged youths of London. The bond they slowly form over time is what they both want and crave...but what did it all mean for their own futures - both together, and singularly.

Notes: Oh my god. This is my first ever actual fic, let alone a regency!au, I hope you like it @kindnessinpain2000 , time got away from me this month, but this was fun to create! I really loved all your requests, but this vibe really stuck in my mind. I think I’ll probably do 1-2 more parts if you love this...Happy Holidays love! Also, I know the title is from a John Keats poem he wrote in a letter in June 1818, to George and Georgiana Keats - which was first published in 1925, but I swear it’s something they’d exchange in this fic, so I’m going with it. 

Warnings: Honestly none, maybe just some major slow burn, and a touch of the typical moody Jughead we know and love.

X

It was 1819 and spring was finally here. As he approached Pembrooke, hired on as a tutor by one of the wealthiest families on this side of Oxford, he couldn’t help but miss the city. The constant change of faces, never-ending booksellers and his students. He taught underprivileged teens and young adults how to read. Watching each come alive while reading his favorite literature was fascinating to him. Leaving London for permanent employment at a country house didn’t spark anything thrilling for him, but the financial security felt like a need due to unforeseen familial issues that recently arose. Little did he know his entire future would be upended soon enough.

Forsythe Pendleton Jones III was an academic who had a way with words. Compared to others of a similar age, he was incredibly well educated. With a swath of floppy dark brown waves, a stare that could pierce one's soul and an air of mystery behind his eyes. Women of all ages noticed him. He was never one for romance, he could be, but no one intrigued him longer than a few minutes. That is until he walked into the entrance hall of the country home. He was greeted by The Lord and Lady Pembrooke and more specifically their only daughter, Lady Veronica.

As the weeks passed and time turned to months, he fell into a simple routine, or as simple as one could get existing within this environment. His mornings consisted of tea, reading alone in the study prior to making his way to the north library for daily education. He tutored Lord Pembrooke’s young nephews from Spain, who now lived in England year-round. Although compared to his typical London pupils, they had been exposed at an early age to some of the best literature, art, music, mathematics, and sciences one could afford. However, just like his former pupils, the boys still had that spark in their eye and an excitement for learning. Most days were spent this way, with evenings in the library, where he often read aloud to the family and distant relatives or friends of the Lord and Lady who spent weekends in the country.

During the seemingly endless evenings immersed in a book, he grew to look forward to Saturdays most. This was when Lady Veronica read to the boys in the afternoons while he prepared the lessons for the following week. Oftentimes he found himself distracted and lost in thought while she took over the study with her voice, which was so unlike him. Where were these thoughts creeping in from, why her of all people, it’s not like he had a chance to ever publicly declare he had these thoughts about her. They were from two very different backgrounds, while he was well off and had some slight social advantages, her father would never allow for their lives to intertwine romantically.

It was after one of these weekend afternoons, while he was lost in a recently published science essay for the boys Monday lessons, that he looked up just as Lady Veronica passed by the desk and softly dropped a small envelope on his never-ending stack of textbooks. After they shared a mutually discreet glance, she was gone from the room. Although he was anxious to rip the parchment open and delve into whatever she had written to him, he slowly collected his papers, books, quills, sure to not forget her mysterious note and with haste escaped to his living quarters in the north wing. Once inside, he settled at his chair near the window to unseal the unassuming note. He was immediately caught by her graceful and quickly scrawled words. It was not known that he had a fondness for the romantic sonnets of the past and present, but more specifically Lord George Byron. How she had known this, he assumed was purely coincidental.

And like music on the waters    Is thy sweet voice to me: When, as if its sound were causing The charmed ocean’s pausing, The waves lie still and gleaming, And the lull’d winds seem dreaming:                Meet me in the garden at half-past dusk tomorrow...LV.

Moving from the window to his desk, removing a quill, some parchment and settling in to contemplate how to reply. He needed to write something in such a way that conveyed every thought of her that occupied his mind, without seeming entirely too infatuated or overbearing,  he scrawled down, not his own words, but Percy Bysshe Shelly.

Thy gentle words are drops of balm

  In life’s too bitter bowl;

These choicest blessings I have

       known.

Harriet! If all who long to live

 In the warm sunshine of thine eyes, -F

After sealing the small note, Forsythe needed to find a moment to slip it to her unnoticed. The family resided in the east wing, which he rarely ventured to. It needed to be inconspicuous; however, he could hardly ask her lady’s maid, Elisbeth to hand off the note to her without stirring up whispers among the others. He decided to wait until after their shared family meal, and while he selected a book to read that evening. She routinely wandered the library and would choose favorites for him to read passages from, while Lord and Lady Pembrooke said their goodnights to the boys prior to joining for the evening. Tonight while he handed off a Wordsworth’s An Evening Walk and Descriptive Sketches, to her, they shared a quick glance and brushed fingertips. With his small token of admiration tucked inside the cover.

The night passed excruciatingly too slow for him. The following day, while he enjoyed the time spent delving into their expansive literature collection, he wanted nothing more than to somehow speed time and space up to get through the next day. Although he had a leisurely day of riding with Lord Pembrooke in the northeastern Cotswolds, on which Pembrooke sat with all of its stately, silent power - his mind was consumed entirely by Lady Veronica throughout the afternoon outing. Lord Pembrooke continued to engage in conversation with him throughout the day gone, most of which consisted of him trying to convince Forsythe into participating in his humorous antics with his valet and the young men who rode along. It was a pleasant escape from the normal academic rigors of the last weeks, but he wanted nothing more than for dusk to finally arrive.

With time finally on his side, he made his way out the north side exit to the sweeping gardens south of the home, he couldn’t help but feel a small sliver of anxiety. This is not something he normally did. Secret stolen glances, mysterious garden strolls with a woman of her caliber were just not things Forsythe Pendleton Jones III participated in. But there was something different about Lady Veronica. She was an enigma. Other ladies of a similar age were already well acquainted with love and romance, oftentimes already marrying a gentleman of significant family power and notoriety. Yet, here she was, sharing mutual glances with him over literature. Discussing the works of today’s most influential authors and poets with him in the study throughout the days. How had fate placed her in his path, was this to be a fleeting moment or the start of something more.  

Lost in wandering a section covered in soft moss and wildflowers near the outskirts of the garden, he hadn’t heard her approach. Suddenly she was next to him and he was unable to form a coherent thought to create a sentence. Luckily for him, she took the lead, “Hello Forsythe, I see you have found yourself in my absolute favorite section of my mother’s garden, shall we walk?” She slipped her graceful hand into the nook of his arm and thus began their secret conversations.

As they wandered aimlessly throughout the Pembrooke’s unparalleled garden, they shared slowly about their favorite topics, uncovering what made their minds operate. When each realized, unbeknownst to them, that this was not going to be a singular incident. They were discovering that there was another soul in the universe that related to their own mind, even heart, so closely. Just as they were rounding another corner of the labyrinth they had aimlessly strolled into, thunder was heard above. Soon enough it was a ceaseless rainfall. Removing his tailcoat and draping it over her small frame, they found refuge from the summer storm, in the small garden pavilion.

While waiting for the rain to cease, they sat in comfortable silence. Each reveling in the absolute quiet that always happens during a particularly hard rainfall. While she watched the garden and contained all the words that he too was holding back for fear of breaking the magic spell that fell over them. He couldn’t help but let his mind wander again. To all of the countless times he had admired, not just her mind, but her outward beauty as well. She had dark hair, just a shade darker than his own, nearly the color of a raven’s feathers. With facial features that he saw as almost exotic compared to other women he saw while living in London, yet her face was also so familiar to him. Lost in his own mind yet again, he hadn’t noticed that she glanced over while he leaned back against the pillar of the stone pavilion. With a smirk on her face and a devilish glint in her eye, “Forsythe, dare I say we escape this cold night and make a run for shelter?”

After giving hardly any thought to the inquiry, “Oh, Lady Veronica, I thought you would like to stay here, with me and exist in this freezing realm of silence forever?”

With a laugh and a shake of her raven-haired head, she said, “I should never leave if I didn’t have to Forsythe.” Taking her hand, he whisked her into the storm across the garden, in the direction of Pembrooke.

As they ran towards the warmth of the fireplaces and dry clothing that awaited each of them inside. Unknown to each of them was what fate truly did have in store for them. The neverending hours wandering the gardens, learning the deepest feelings of one another. The endless laughs exchanged over comedic books, reading poems, literature and countless notes covertly exchanged. What it all meant for their own futures - both together, and singularly.

[aubreycasuallyobsesses]

😭😭😭😭😭😭 thank you so much! I’m some happy you shared this with me! And that we finally have a safe corner of the fandom to go off on tangents. I can’t wait to read more!

We've all had that one friend we met for one brief shining moment as children. Only to never see them again once that day end.

What happens when you do meet them again years later, only to realize, that maybe you two, you two were never supposed to be friends in the first place...

Here's my Secret Santa gift for @aubreycasuallyobsesses sorry it took me so long to send it and that it isn't complete. Anyways, I hope you like it this first chapter of a three parter.

[aubreycasuallyobsesses]

Jeronica Secret Santa

We just wanted to remind everyone that tomorrow begins our Secret Santa gifting! You can post anytime starting tomorrow, December 24th and 27th ✨

Make sure to tag your posts: jeronicasecretsanta2019 + jeronica nation in your first 5 tags.

Don’t forget to tag your giftee on your post so they see it too!

If you haven’t been tagged to receive your gift by the 28th, please message one of us ❤️

If you have any other questions, feel free to dm @veronicassadboi or myself @aubreycasuallyobsesses

xo,

c+a ❤️

tagging you babes who participated this year 🥰

@kindnessinpain2000 @mydairjeronica @riverdalecritical @half-ok @dark-is-my-imagination @winterfalconed @winterova @shellynelsonlahey @rhaenyra-snow @sapphicveronicalodge @ladyinrosso @hitchhikersguidetotheuniverse

[aubreycasuallyobsesses]

f i n a l l y.

[aubreycasuallyobsesses]

rules: answer 16 questions and tag 16 people you want to get to know better

nickname: aubrey

zodiac sign: Gemini 

height: 5'8″

Hogwarts house: Ravenclaw

Team Edward or Team Jacob: Jacob, obviously. 

last thing I googled: saoirse-monica jackson (just watch derry girls, you won’t be let down)

song stuck in my head: love, i - the green

following: prob 100 max

followers: 65

amount of sleep I get: never enough

lucky number(s): 15

dream job: content creator

wearing: black leggings, cut off nike tee.

favourite songs: adore you - harry styles

instruments: it’s been a decade, but; clarinet, saxophone, ukulele.

random fact: i’m Alaska indigenous (Tlingit), but v few ppl are familiar with that area or tribe. 

aesthetics: crisp, clean. pastels, with heavy-handed swaths of black. messy art, making weavings done w chunky knits. vintage denim, worn in tees. hygge vibes 4eva.

tagged by: @rhaenyra-snow + @hitchhikersguidetotheuniverse

tagging: @veronicassadboi @hitchhikersguidetotheuniverse @half-ok @winterfalconed @createdtogetbored @ladyinrosso @kindnessinpain2000 @dark-is-my-imagination @fangstomysweetpea @noelleb @sapphicveronicalodge (oops not 16)

[aubreycasuallyobsesses]

@jeronicascene-finder 🤡