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klbwriting · 4 months

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Not Romeo, Not Juliet

Chapter 2: Great Stage of Fools

Fandom: Red Hood

Pairing: Jason Todd x f!reader

Warnings: bullying

Summary: Jason goes to auditions and at Dick's urging, tries to make friends, it doesn't turn out well

When we are born we cry that we are come / To this great stage of fools

— KING LEAR, ACT 4 SCENE 6

Jason had hoped to just coast through this theater class. He would get some side part like Fortinbras or Marcellus, in fact he was auditioning for those parts, not working super hard on getting anything right, just knowing he would be in the show and have a group of people who, so far, weren’t that bad. The other seniors, two guys and a girl, were alright and made him feel welcome as soon as he joined their row in the auditorium prior to auditions.

“You don’t look the theater type,” one of the guys, Jackson, said. Jason glanced over at him and shrugged as the other guy, Matt, muttered something about Luke Evans. “Ya, but Luke Evans is British, that’s why does theater.”

“My guardian signed me up, thought it would help me mellow out,” Jason said, trying to make conversation. This whole situation sucked but he might as well make the best of it, that’s what his therapist was always telling him anyway. He was reading over the few lines he was doing for Marcellus, ignoring the eyes of the girl, Chelsea, on him.

“What is with the white hair?” she asked finally. The guys stared at her. “Do you die it like that?”

“No, was in an accident over the summer, turned some hair white,” he said, very practiced in that response after the first couple days of school. He was getting a little tired of it honestly and couldn’t wait until everyone just forgot about him being new. She nodded and turned back to her book, throwing looks at him as she tried to read her lines.

“Jason Todd, Matt Peters,” called the theater director. Jason and Matt stood, going to the stage. “Ready for Marcellus and Horatio, Act 1, Scene 1, lines 70-90.” Jason brought the script up, checked where that was and put it down. He already knew the lines, had read Hamlet quite a few times, and didn’t want to bother holding the book. Matt started to look nervous, still holding up the script to read. As the scene started Jason felt himself slipping away. He was someone else, he didn’t have to be weird, zombie, ex-vigilante Jason keeping a lid on his emotions and his anger. He could be this guard, seeing ghosts and just trying to get by without losing him mind. Ya, he could do that.

“Good now, sit down, and tell, he that knows, Why this same strict and most observant watch…” he started. The words flowed out of him, and he found himself really getting into it. When the scene was stopped, he stood quietly, watching Matt eye him curiously.

“Where did you come from?” he whispered to him as they walked off the stage. Jason shrugged.

“Homeschool,” he answered. He sat back in his chair, pulling out Frankenstein, and starting to read that. He could hear the others discussing him but tried to ignore it. Then he heard them mention someone named YN and he stilled, thinking back to the alley and her bandaging his hand. Not the same person probably, but the name just sprung her face into his mind, and he had to shake himself to get back to the present. Weird.

“Hey Jason,” Chelsea called. He looked over and saw them all facing him. Great, ganging up on him, lovely. “So this show is going to be in the citywide high school Shakespeare competition in December, and we were thinking of going to check out the competition, Gotham Academy is having an open mic night fundraiser for their theater program on Friday night, how about you come with us?” Jason was about to say that sounds terrible when he thought about Dick that morning.

“You should make some friends, it wouldn’t be so bad to have to hang out here if you invited people over,” he had said over breakfast. “Plus, you’ve never really been allowed to have friends since you were like 10, why not make some now?” Jason had to admit he was right, once you became Robin it was hard to be friends with anyone, you just worried about them finding out, or them getting hurt. He wasn’t Robin anymore, he was just Jason, and that thought, being just Jason with no friends, did kind of suck. So fine, why not?

“Sure, what time and where we meeting?” he asked. Matt handed him a crumbled flyer that read Gotham Academy café, Friday night, 8PM. “Just meet you guys there?”

“Yes, it’ll be very fun,” Chelsea said. They were dismissed, the roles would be posted on Monday. The other seniors walked him out where he saw Dick waiting for him at the car. “Is that your dad?”

“No, that’s my older brother,” he said, heading over to meet him. Dick let him in the car and then joined him to drive. “Keeping tabs on me, mom?”

“Yes, I am,” Dick said honestly. “How did auditions go?”

“Fine, met a couple people, we’re going to some open mic night at Gotham Academy. Something about a Shakespeare competition?” Jason said, leaning his head back to the chair.

“Good, friends, friends will keep you out of fights clubs,” Dick mumbled.

“Not likely.”

Friday rolled around and Jason was heading out when Dick handed him a tracking device. He glared and snapped it to his leather jacket. If he didn’t Dick would just have one implanted anyway.

“You know that’s fucked up right? I’m not a puppy,” Jason said, grabbing his book and wallet.

“I know, but you’re also prone to not being where you say you’ll be,” he said. Jason grunted. One time he sneaks out and suddenly he’s never going to be trustworthy again.

“You know, sometimes I wonder if Bruce wouldn’t be better at this,” Jason snapped. Dick sighed, not saying anything. Jason knew he should take it back, but he was annoyed now so he just left instead, taking the bike from the other night and heading over to Gotham Academy. It was still warm in the late August evening and Jason didn’t really want to be inside at some café, so he was pleasantly surprised when he parked and saw chairs set up on a grassy lawn next to the school. There was a staging area on raised pallets and several people were already seated with coolers and bags of food from local restaurants. He felt more relaxed knowing that he wasn’t going to be confined to a closed in area with people he didn’t know and probably wouldn’t like.

He paid for a ticket and moved among the folding chairs, finding the others from school. They had two coolers and pulled a water bottle for him from one. He sat down, not sure what he actually expected. Seeing YN walk on stage at the beginning of the show wasn’t it though.

“Hello everyone, and thank you for coming to our open mic night fundraiser to help fund this year’s Shakespeare competition show ‘MacBeth’,” she said and a round of applause sounded. He looked around, seeing a decent size crowd there, more than he thought would show up for a theater program. He clapped at first, then noticed the others weren’t. He frowned as they shook their heads at him.

“What?” he asked as the first act started. They leaned in close so no one would hear.

“That is YN, she was runner up for best actress last year for her role in The Tempest, she lost to Amber, she graduated last year, but she also caught Amber screwing one of the judges at the afterparty and told the Gotham City theater council. Got the award taken away. I mean, so what if Amber wanted to make sure she would win? She was winning anyway, YN is not talented,” Jackson explained, glaring over at YN who was sitting off the side of the stage, watching the show, checking her notes every now and then. Jason just nodded and looked back at them.

“Ya, we have a great surprise for her after the show, she’s going to regret being such a bitch last year,” Chelsea said. Jason frowned but didn’t say anything, just sat back to watch the rest of the show. Maybe these guys were not who he wanted to be friends with after all. He sat quietly as they headed for the final act, which was YN.

“Thank you everyone again for coming, as MC I have the honor of the final performance and I’m taking a request from one of our freshmen ladies who really just wanted some Taylor Swift tonight,” she said. There was a keyboard setup and she sat down at it, playing some chords to a song Jason didn’t know. Then she was singing, and Jason wasn’t sure if he ever wanted her to stop.

He was sunshine I was midnight rain

He wanted comfortable

I wanted that pain

Jason listened, staring at her. He had never heard this song before, but he doubted anyone sounded as good as YN at it. She felt these words, felt this heartbreak and Jason could feel it through her. It was intoxicating and he wanted to talk to her, wanted to know her, wanted to make this heartbreak stop. He didn’t realize that something was placed in his hand until he saw what the other seniors were doing.

It came like a postcard

Picture perfect, shiny family…

SPLAT

The water balloon hit her square in the face, breaking and dousing her in Koolaid, the red staining the soft purple shirt she was wearing. Two more went flying and landed on her body as she stood, eyes focusing on the group from Bludhaven Prep, narrowing at the sight of the water balloon Jason had just realized was in his hand. He looked down at it and then at her.

“O shit…” Matt said as YN launched off the stage, giving chase. Jason was slow to react, diving over people as he followed the other three towards the parking lot. She caught up to him, tackling him from behind, forearm around his throat. He ran couple more steps before falling to his knees so he could flip her over his head as gently as he could. She landed on the grass with an ‘oof’ and stared up at him. She growled, turning around and getting on her knees.

“Listen…” he said before the fist hit his face. He reeled and grabbed her fists before she could throw another. “Hey! I didn’t know they were going to do that!” She glared, looking at the bandage on his hand, the cut on his palm healing slowly, and recognition dawned on her.

“Jason? Really? You’re with those assholes?” she asked. He shook his head. “O so you don’t go to Bludhaven prep?”

“Well ya, I go there now,” he said.

“And you’re in the theater program?” she asked.

“Yes, I just auditioned a couple days ago…” he said.

“And the first thing you do when joining them is all decide to come here and ruin my open mic night?” she asked. Then she stared at him, remembering where he had seen her, where they met. “Did you tell them where I live?” He made a face, confused.

“No, I didn’t even know you went to Gotham Academy, I was just here because they said they wanted to check out the competition and I was trying to make friends,” he explained. You looked around, there was a crowd slowly gathering around you two.

“Get out of here, and I never want to see you again,” she said, shoving him back. He stared at her for a moment, seeing her looking around, her face shifting from humiliated, to hurt, and then, her eyes falling back on him, rage. “GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME!” In that moment he wished Dick had left him in the ground. He knew from her eyes that he had made an enemy for life. He ran to the parking lot, got on his bike and drove back to the penthouse, unable to get her hurt expression out of his head.

#jasontodd #jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd x y/n #redhood #red hood #red hood x reader #red hood x you #red hood x y/n #notromeo

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eremorte · 2 months

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Badwolf could’ve been Gomez addams. (Red being Mortica light) I cannot keep my posts short so open with caution.

I’ve been mulling over the statues of the Little red riding hood story and have come to the conclusion, Badwolf and Red could have very easily done a hiding in plain sight sitch.

My defense:

Badwolf knowing hoodian culture shouldn’t be out of place as he has to pretend to be an old lady that is good enough to fool red for a few seconds. (hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if he knew a few more traditions than Red because of his obligation to study) also they are functionally neighbors. There is going to be crossover.

The man also gave me thespian vibes in class of classics so, like he also has the license to be dramatic (huff and puffing is also a pretty extreme response to having a door in your face)

And as for Red, having the Evil Queen as a roommate must’ve done something, namely she speaks very posh when annoyed, (my what *insert phrase here* you have) and has a good grasp on scheming (not that hoodians aren’t naturally crafty) this would would compliment badwolf’s dramatics.

But now the fun bit, how this would translate into his familial relationships.

unlike most villian/hero relationships Badwolf and Red narratively remain neighbors as opposed to red being able to completely move house like it’s implied for other fairytales which get screen time in eah. So they have to remain cordial with each other and it’s sappy as hell.

example scene that I’ve been mulling over:

Badwolf has decided to teach a class with Red as a guest speaker (in conjunction with some hero class) to demonstrate how to get along with your story book nemesis post story. (An excuse to see red and condition people to not question when he speaks highly of her) Hunter remains suspicious and threatens badwolf with a hachet (he’s not actually going to do anything and badwolf and red know this).

Badwolf (unamused) “Red could you please call off your guard dog?”

Red: “and why should I do that?”

Badwolf: “Because you’re a good person who cannot deal with another’s blood on your conscious?”

Red: (keeping a straight face)

Badwolf “oh glorious woman, doth thou not see with your beautiful silver eyes that I beg forgiveness? To call off the huntsman with your melodious voice? One who walks with the grace of a swan, one’s who’s kindness which could comfort that of a thousand crying children? Oh how…”

Red: (trying really hard not to cry from both flattery and embarrassment) “Release him”

if anyone points out that him and Cerise look similar, he loudly gloats that “Ha in your face Red I did look like grandma”

that Ramona looks like Red: “excellent work on your makeup, dear.”

Cerise doing a weak growl? “No, no that’s not how it’s done at all, here, let me demonstrate.”

For those that get suspicious that Badwolf and Red actually have a deeper relationship then they put on they don’t say anything because they won’t admit that somehow these two have a better functioning relationship than they ones who are destined for happily ever after.

(also for badwolfs dramtic speech, I have not studied Shakespeare so I’m aware it sucks)

#ever after high #eah #cerise hood #ramona badwolf #professor badwolf #little red riding hood ever after high

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the-deadrobin · 5 months

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Jason Todd Headcannons

I will probably add more later, because I surely forgot a few.

Half of these don't make sense, but they're fun.

Jason is a huge Literature nerd and an even bigger Jane Austen fan. He's also a huge romance lover. But he likes the wholesome cutesy shit. (I also think he just loves poems) But even so, he likes Shakespeare especially the tragedies like Macbeth.

He is the only Bat Alfred allows in the kitchen. Jason used to learn to cook from/help cook with Alfred back in his Robin days. Thus he is a surprisingly good cook, second only to Alfred.

Jason smoked when he was an Alley kid before being Robin and he still smokes as Red Hood. He also smokes on rooftops while Bruce has his Galas and the press are all over it.

This one is kinda funny but I love the idea of the Wayne family being like the Kardashians of Gotham (just much more useful) and Dick and Jason are absolute heartthrobs. (I'm so going to elaborate on this with detail in another post)

The Bat-fam don't know about the all-blades, or the all-caste. Because the situation just never called for it.

Anesthesia or sedatives either don't work on him, or wear off him much faster than normal. Same with alcohol.

Being a Gothamite, a Bat, and trained with the League Of Assassins, I imagine Jason has trained himself to have immunity to poisons and toxins (mostly but not all) (I believe its called Microdosing)

Jason has that good old white tuft of hair. Whether from head trauma or the Lazarus remains a mystery.

Jason is dramatic as hell. And extremely petty too. Spite drives this man. He does everything he can (no matter how small or big it might be) to spite Bruce.

Most of his younger siblings don't prank him unless they're looking for all out war, in which him, Dick and Steph form an alliance and go batshit insane (pun not intended)

Leading me to my next point: Jason is very competitive.

He's also a horrible role model because whenever any of the siblings fight (namely Tim and Damian) he just makes shit worse and watches the chaos he helped create.

Jason is big on revenge. He has a list is all I'm saying.

Jason probably has claustrophobia (what with being stuck in a damn coffin and all that)

I think that all of the bat siblings (except Dick, because he has the Big Bro power) has a blackmail list on everyone in the house. But no one can seem to find blackmail for Jason just because Jason is so damn good at covering up what he does that even if it was obvious he did something, there'd be no evidence of it.

Which leads to the fact that I think Jason is an extremely good liar. And he uses that to make his lies really weird and borderline crazy but people still believe him because he's just so convincing. Like, whenever he lies to Bruce, Bruce just believes it. And the other batkids are in the corner like: what??? It wasn't even a convincing lie!! But then they find out about an instance Jason has pulled this shit on them and realise how believable it actually is. (And that was only when he was caught) but Jason never does this to Alfred, because no matter what Alfred can always catch his lies.

Jason regularly has tea time with Alfred. They talk about books, food, Jason's schemes to fuck with his family and Alfred secretly gives him ideas. But everyone else in the family aside from Bruce and Jason always think Alfred is this innocent old man.

Also one of my favourites is that Jason jokes about his death. A lot. Everytime he sees an opportunity he takes it. Bruce and Dick (and to some degree Tim) are so uncomfortable everytime he does it, but Steph and Damian find it the funniest thing ever. Duke has absolutely no clue why Jason keeps making these jokes about dying, because no one told the poor guy. Cass is as clueless as Duke and Babs is always caught so off guard by it. Alfred is always mortified but he doesn't show it because he knows its Jason's coping mechanism.

I wholeheartedly believe that Jason drops off the face of the Earth occasionally. He just goes completely off-grid, no one (except sometimes Roy or Steph) know how to contact him or where he went. Not a single bat can find him when he does this. And that half the time he's doing this, he's just going to the Fields Of All to hang out with Ducra and some monks, or having mother son bonding time with Talia. Then the other half he's either having a nuch needed vacation in the beach, or going on a extremely dark and broody conquest to solve a large case and ultimately failing into its rabbithole and never attempting to get out. (He hates to admit it, but it's a lot like Bruce sometimes)

When Jason is out as Jason Wayne he totally wears makeup. Either just foundation to cover up his scars, or when he's feeling it maybe some black eyeliner and eyeshadow for Galas. So almost nobody recognises him as Jason Wayne while he's in normal civvies and he can wander Gotham freely. (Unlike Dick, who has to style his hair differently, wear a cap, change his wardrobe and still gets paparazzis)

Jason regularly quotes book and poems and the only person who has a chance of understanding him is Alfred.

This whole tumblr post.

Jason died before the Internet became as huge as it is now. So, Jason is the least technologically advanced in the family. He's the equivalent of a grandfather. Barely can use a computer without yelling for someone. Goes into Gaslight, Gatekeep, Girlboss mode upon realising the stupidity of the scenario. It drives Tim and Babs insane. More of that here.

Everyone knows he loves Wonder Woman. He has Wonder Woman clothes, a bottle, a figurine, comics, etc. Once, he got a small tattoo of her logo under his ear mainly to spite Bruce. (Because he has accepted that, that's half his life purpose at this point).

But secretly, under the Wonder Woman jackets and tucked in between the pages of the comics are Green Arrow shirts and bookmarks. Only because he knows Bruce notices these small things and it gnaws away at him because Jason has never touched Batman merch since his ressurection. Roy does the same thing but with Batman merch.

Jason and Damian met in the League Of Assassins and were pretty close before going to Gotham for entirely different reasons. No one in the family knows about this and always wonder why they can communicate so well without using a word. (They did that a lot while sneaking around Nanda Parbat so Ra's wouldn't notice).

Jason and Steph are absolute besties. They're a chaos duo who love tormenting Bruce and are practically bff soulmates. But it's strictly platonic.

He's the kind of guy who would unironically recite a monologue from Macbeth without a hit him, just to motivate his goons.

This post

Also this post

Also, also, this post (I'm sorry, its just these posts are on point)

This one too-

#jason todd #jason todd headcannons #idk why its so detailed #red hood #red hood headcannons

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roxie-roo · 1 year

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another hermit hollow fic!! Hope you guys like this one, and stay tuned for some Interesting two fics in the future <3 enjoy, @majickth

People didn't move in to Hermit's Hollow. That just wasn't the case. Then again, no one moved out either. It was just a small, insular community, full of people who it seemed had known each other for years.

So imagine the surprise when a new person came, greeting Pearl with long built up feelings.

Her brother, they'd learned. A recently fired journalist, looking for peace and quiet for once.

Word travels fast in the Hollow.

Thus did news of his investigation into the hooded figures that townspeople dared not acknowledge.

It passed through trees, between lumberjacks. The blond one lugged a tree over her shoulder as she walked back towards town, pausing only to see her companion frozen in place.

"Ren?" She called to him. "What's got into you?"

"By the pricking of my thumb.." Ren muttered to himself, "something wicked this way comes.."

Shakespeare. She'd recalled Ren to have been a fan. Still, she didn't quite understand the usage of it now.

The news was spread among customers in a small bookshop near town. The librarian refused to say anything beyond cryptic messages and poetic waxing, all of which received eye rolls and "typical Joe"s from the customers. Except for one. A blond approached the counter, trying to look as casual as possible as he fidgeted with his feather earrings.

"Did-.. did he really say he was investigating.. them?"

"That's what I heard." Joe Hills, the owner of the bookshop, nodded and closed the book on his desk. "He's a journalist, I like journalists. They remind me of myself in a way... never know when to quit. Yknow, I think I met a journalist a while back. Some two,,, three? Years ago?"

The blond tuned out Joe's rambling, hastily paying for his books and leaving very quickly. Far too quickly for Joe to not at least be a little suspicious. He eyed the customer behind him, and shrugged.

"Oh well."

______________________

Hermit's Hollow was full of uneasy souls that afternoon. Coincidentally all blonde, a thought that crossed Ren's mind as he watched his,,, friend? Friend sounded good. Watched his friend stare at a scar on his wrist. The symbol was an almost perfect rectangle, permanently etched into the skin. Martyn had told him once what had marked him. A hot iron. Ren shuddered at the thought of it.

"You know, staring at it isn't gonna make it go away, dude." Ren called, arms crossed as he watched him.

"I know." Martyn sighed. Tired and drained, and so, so frustrated. "I don't know what to do at this point. Do I talk to him- ? Tell him its a bad idea?"

"I guess you have to.. Would he listen?"

"That's what I'm afraid of..."

It was certainly a fear not unfounded. And he wasn't the only one who felt it.

"Baby, you pacing is gonna make me dizzy." A soft laugh echoed through the electronics store, the owner of said store leaned over the counter as he watched his partner traverse the small shop, occasionally stumbling and tripping over his feet.

"Sorry.." He stopped, instead hugging his thin frame with a worried huff. "You know why I'm so freaked out.."

"I do." Tango nodded as he stepped out from behind the counter, frowning at the sight of his anxious partner as he pulled him into his arms. "C'mere... you wanna go home?"

"No,, no I'm okay.." He shook his head, relaxing into Tango's arms slowly. "Sorry.."

"Don't be sorry, Jimmy.. I get it.. hey, maybe it's just a rumor. Yknow?"

"Yeah.. rumor.."

The bell above Decked Out rang and Tango untangled himself from around Jimmy's frame, quickly ducking behind the counter again. "Welcome to Decked Out, what can I help you with?"

Jimmy turned to look at the customer, and all the color drained from his face. Exactly as described. Wiry frame, red sweater, glasses, journal and pen.

"Hi, I was told I might be able to find one James Tek here?"

Tango narrowed his eyes at the stranger, while Jimmy cleared his throat and stepped towards him.

"I'm him. Please, just call me Jimmy, everyone does."

"Jimmy, perfect." The stranger grinned. "Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?"

"I know what this is about.." Jimmy sighed. "I'll be back, Tangs..."

"Stay safe, baby.." Tango called out as they left.

Turns out, this was the rumored stranger, Grian. Pearl's brother. And Jimmy wasn't the only one being asked.

Martyn was also approached by this stranger, and asked the same question Jimmy dreaded now.

"What do you know about The Watchers?"

#hermits hollow au #roxie's writing

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00belle00lovely00 · 4 months

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Hear me out on this..... Picky x Bubba x Bobby... (can I get some headcanons of them pls)

OH- POLY RELATIONSHIP HEADCANON. AKUYFGBSOUFGSOUGOWQUIGBEB- OKAY YEY!!!

*cracks knuckles*

I GOTCHU, BESTIE. I GOTCHU!

🍎📘❤️🍎📘❤️🍎📘❤️🍎📘❤️🍎📘❤️🍎📘❤️🍎📘❤️🍎

is it just me or I'd picture Picky and Bobby being outskirts/country people while Bubba would be a city boy.

These three are the epitome of if one needs something, the other two deliver. For example:

If Pickypiggy is hungry, Bobby would cook while Bubba helps out with reading the recipes' instructions.

If Bobby is feeling rather lonely (due to my latest headcanon saying she has attachment issues), Picky would inquire a picnic date with the three of them while Bubba is going to rambles about the new subject he has been investigating about.

If Bubba is having a hard time trying to solve a math problem, these two dumdums would try to join all their brain cells in trying to help. Which, at the end of the day, didn't help a lot. BUT. It surely owned a very laughs for the elephant.

corny/romance lover x bookworm lover x food lover.

They better have a club talk about their favourite things.

OH. THIS IS A GOOD HEADCANON HEAR ME OUT. Bobby is obviously a sucker for chocolate. It represents valentine, the matter of sweetness, and it's enjoyable to taste. But since Picky is the one in charge of the nutrition and Bubba is the smartass of the entire group, they both gotta be scolding her for her bad habits. She never grows out of it, so it becomes an ongoing shenanigans between the three of them.

Kickin is SHOCKED beyond thought to see Bubba pulling up two girls at the same time before he ever could LMAO.

What their date would be like? The movie theater obviously! There's food, there's corny romance and there's science fiction. THEY ARE GOING THERE IF THEY GET THE CHANCE!

I usually think Picky would be rather dismissive of the thought that she is considered pretty. Not like she is insecure about herself, but rather she has never really thought of herself highly like that. So whenever anyone like Bobby or Bubba compliments her, she usually says "Eeeh, I mean, I guess? But not really." Which THAT. OH THAT. THAT GETS THEIR ATTENTION INSTANTLY. I swear, they'd be taking care of Picky the MINUTE she says that.

Kickin: "NO, SERIOUSLY! What do you see on Wikipedia wanna be?!"

*Bobby and Picky paused, looked at each other and said at the same time*

Bobby: "He knows how to read romantic novels!"

Pickypiggy: "He knows how to cook"

I got a feeling the three of them love fantasy novels. Especially Little Red Riding Hood.

they fr are like: "Sure!" + "meh" + "well theoretically speaking..."

You know what would be funny? If Bobby one day decides to give some Valentine cards to both Bubba and Picky, but the thing is that it's in a poem. So then you got Bubba trying to figure out through re-reading Shakespeare to comprehend whatever the hell this letter is about. And while Picky? Oh, that girl only read the first part, accidentally read something along the lines of "you're so sweet" and came to the conclusion that it was edible paper. So yup. She ate it. The whole thing.

this isn't a headcanon of this ship. But talking about Picky eating stuff, I'm wondering if all the Smiling Critters are bound to be vegan. And if not, oh boy, who are we gonna tell Picky about bacon...

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judasofsuburbia · 2 years

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hello! i'm emily! 25. she/they. bisexual menace. cowboy enthusiast. main fandoms are stranger things, red white and royal blue, and hannibal<3

asks are always open and encouraged!!

my writing tag || fic recs tag

ao3 || spotify || shakespeare blog || ko-fi

most popular hannibal works:

Sharing your hunger, sharing your life (rated E): hannibal and will are skirting around the undeniable truth that no other lover would remind them of the feelings they are having now. there is no comparison. there never was. but will needs to be shown. hannibal does too.

Human Nature (rated E): will downloads grindr out of pure desperation. a "stranger" promises him a good evening and something simple. how could he refuse?

Lead The Way (rated E): will is mischa lecter's dance teacher. will asks hannibal to volunteer for the dance studio by being the wolf in their little red riding hood ballet. this, however, requires some extra private lessons.

personal faves:

the darkest hour is just before dawn (rated E, three parts): the three spicy six couples navigate their romantic and sexual relationships whilst also surviving the zombie apocalypse.

scratch on the moon like a familiar smile (rated E, two parts): western cowboy universe where outlaw! eddie goes to sheriff! steve's house after a fight expecting to get chewed out but finds something sweeter instead. cattle wrangler! robin stays after her shift one night and learns her feelings for farmer! nancy are not a fool's game.

it's nice to have a friend (rated E): nancy kisses robin the night before nancy and steve's wedding. a decade of mutual pining and angst that leads to them figuring out what they really mean to one another.

#new pinned post oooooo #emily screams into the void #steddie #hannigram #stranger things #hannibal #red white and royal blue #rwrb #ronance #jargyle

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chaosfantasmic · 7 months

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Links fanfic intro chapter 2!!! (YOUR STILL GAY!!😲!!)

this has a lot of plot convenience so don't come at me, also sorry if there's ooc, this is like my first time writing for Lu so I'm not exactly Shakespeare yet.

....

When wind woke up he was met with the blinding light of the sun on his face

Also he was also on someones....back? what was going on-

"Oh, your awake! That's probably a good sign considering how banged up you were when I found you last night."

Wind shrieked and jumped, making the mysterious person almost drop him on the grass

"hey your alright I'm not gonna hurt you, your safe, were in Persephone woods and I'm taking you to Tari Takii town to see a healer, your safe ok?" The person reassured him

Now that it was daytime wind could get a better look at the person, though not at there face considering there mouth was covered by a face mask and the rest of them was covered by a hood.

"Buuut you still probably are pretty confused, but that's expected considering you were probably half asleep when I found you, well if I'm gonna be transporting you I'd better tell you my name first, I'm... Sapphire, and....yours?" sapphire as wind now knew them as, asked

"I'm.... Wind." He muttered, still not fully awake and slightly dazed

"Ook well wind your names a little funky but don't worry your safe with me!" Sapphire said as he walked along the forest floor, hopping over the occasional tree stump or overgrown root

Wind had to admit, this Persephone woods or whatever sapphires had called it, was actually really pretty, there were little white blue and red birds flying about, animals and squirrels racing around the trees, which had light green and yellow flowy leaves that hung down, some even had flowers growing on them.

they sat in silence for a few minutes, nothing but the occasional crunch of a leaf under sapphires feet would interrupt it.

"Were you the random guy who found me last night, and made the fire?" Wind asked

"Oh yea that was me, yea you were lookin pretty rough when I found you, its a good thing I did too, otherwise the Bokoblins would've gotten to you first, the Persephone woods are dangerous at night" Sapphire grimaced

A place as peaceful as this, dangerous? The sailor thought

"I thought I was dead, when I saw you I thought I was hallucinating!" Wind explained, that got a laugh out of sapphire

"Yea well once we get you on over to Tarii you'll be alright, the Medic there's Mr. Artemis he'll fix you right up, you'll might be stuck in bed for a day or two but you'll be alright." Sapphire chirped happily

"Yea...." Wind said, a slight hint of sadness lingered in his voice

"You sound sad, is there something bothering you?" Sapphire questioned, halting to a stop as he looked back at the sailor, a concerned look on his face

"It's just..

*how the hell do I tell him? Oh yea I have 7 older brothers and a dad we was in another fucking dimension and I got a really shitty concussion and a assy portal opened and I landed in the middle of the fucking woods*

"My brothers, we were...in a fight and got separated, and that's when you found me in the woods, I just wanna know if they're ok." Wind said

"Yknow there probably thinking the exact same thing right now, there out there somewhere looking for you." Sapphire said reassuringly

"I just...I hope I can see them again, wherever they are." He sighed

Sapphire smiled softly "well I think they'd be happy to know there brothers in good hands."

"Yea...me too." Wind said

He felt better, his head still hurt but at least he wasn't at rick of dying of severe blood loss, this sapphire guy, he was....strange to say the least but surprisingly comforting, he didn't feel quite comfortable putting his life in the hands of a complete stranger, if he had learned anything from his time on the sea its that you can't trust anyone, but sapphire had been nothing but kind to him, surely he wouldn't magically betray him? And sapphire wasn't a pirate like he was, he was a seemingly normal guy in fact, the sailor decided he'd trust him for now, and if he felt like betraying him, well that was his own fault.

....

they walked in silence for about another half hour, Wind could feel himself drift off again, he could see the sunset through the peeks of the trees, the birds had begun to settle in there nests and the squirrels no longer scampered across the thin branches. He shut his eyes and prepared to let sleep overtake him once again

Until he heard a call off in the distance

"WIND!"

Fuck sleep, wind thought his head immediately shot up, making sapphire jump a little at the sudden movement, could it really be

Sure enough, out of the corner of his eye he could see the blue of warriors scarf, twilights pelt, times armour-, he knew he wasn't hallucinating this time, that he knew for a fact, was his family

Sapphire noticed "I suppose those are your brothers then huh?" He asked, Wind nodded eagerly

Sapphire set him down against a tree

"Well, I guess my work here is done then, glad I could help you out a little." He said, as he stood up, and started to walk off into the forest

"Stay safe out there!" Sapphire said as he gave him one last smile

And just like that, he was gone, faded into the trees.

...

"Sailor! Are you all right, are you ok, I thought we'd never find you." Time said as he out his hands on winds shoulders

the captain laughed "aww look at the old man, being a mom again."

"oh shut up wars you act like you weren't up crying all night!" Legend said

Wars fake gasped "this is PERSONAL!"

Everyone was so caught up in the fact that there brother was alive and well, they didn't notice the setting sun looming over the trees

"Yknow we should probably find some place to set up camp soon, it's getting late." Sky said as he pointed to the sky (haha get it)

And so they were off, off into this Hyrule for however long Hylia decided they would.

Little did wind Know, it would not be his last encounter with Sapphire, but that would have to wait

....

Yea the ending is literal dog shit I literally did not know what to put I promise I'm not a bad writer pls keep reading

#legend of zelda #linked universe #funny #silly #lol idk what else to put here #lu warriors #legend of zelda oc #oc stuff #lu wind #lu hyrule #lu time #lu twilight #lu wild #lu four #lu sky #lu legend

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batsclass101-blog · 1 year

Text

Dead People Book Club - Part 2

Gotham’s cycles of life remained the same. That was Jason Todd-Wayne’s initial observation after returning to life. The fight for survival and the struggle between good and evil was ever present. It was both comforting and disconcerting to note that he had become a true embodiment of Gotham. A survivalist given the hope of life only to be snuffed out...and then resurrected.

Jason was a survivor long before getting dunked in a Lazarus Pit. He snorted at the irony of his resurrection as he tossed on a t-shirt, jeans and his favorite leather Jacket. He’d spent enough time resurrected, but only a few of those had been establishing his name as Hood. Still, he wasn’t sure he was glad to be back. The angry haze that he lived in most days made fond memories of the past blur. His persona as the Red Hood allowed him some relief from the way his thoughts twisted. It wasn’t much but it was a small relief.

Somedays he wasn’t sure if his family was really glad he was back. A trick of the pit, Dick would say. But life hadn’t stopped for anyone. He glanced in the mirror suddenly overcome with melancholia. Last week there’d been a public announcement of his return, but he’d yet faced any “friends” from his past. It stung to think that no one cared.

‘You were Robin. You’re the Red Hood, Jason. You don’t need “friends.’ He shook his head and mussed his hair before grabbing his keys. Getting caught up in his head wouldn’t do anyone any good. The day was young and he had errands to run before he was due to the manor for dinner. Things were still a bit rocky with his family, but it wouldn’t help to let the anger simmer long. Life goes on and so did Jason Todd.

_________

“That can’t be him...”

Hero felt her eyes water as she clutched her groceries closer. She stared at the back of the familiar figure as it moved steadily forward. The walk was familiar...the hair and set of those shoulders. She was so intent on solving the puzzle that she didn’t even notice when she began walking. Soon enough the walking turned into running. Maybe it was just her mind, but she so desperately missed her sort-of-friend, she had to be sure.

“Jason!” The name flew from her lips a bit louder than intended.

Quicker than she could blink, the figure whipped around, and she dropped her groceries. It was him! Her gallon of milk exploded, and she grimaced as eggs oozed out of a bag.

“Villain Origin story complete...” Hero muttered as she squatted and hurriedly scraped items into her bag.

“And you are?” Jason frowned as he crouched down to help. His shoulders were tense with wariness, but he wasn’t one to be rude to cute girls. He tucked a can of beans into a bag and glanced at the girl... long brown hair, hazel eyes, dimples, and olive skin. She seemed almost familiar.

“We went to Gotham Academy together. Octavia Kingsley?” A laugh escaped Hero as she finished retrieving her food. “I went by my middle name in Book Club. Parents were obsessed with Shakespeare. I heard you’d been kidnapped. I thought you... I’m really glad you’re ok! You look really good.”

Hero wanted to slap herself as soon as the last sentence left her mouth. ‘You look really good.’ She could feel the flush creeping up her neck. Jason was staring at her slightly as if she’d grown a second head. ‘Great. Now he thinks you’re weirder than he thought you were in school.’

“Our last meeting was... at the park near school. And the book was Tess of the D'urbervilles. We discussed it and...I think our next choice was The Trial by Franz Kafka. When you di...” She almost said died but thought better. “When you disappeared, I went ahead and read it for us both.”

“Shakespeare!” A sudden smile broke through Jason’s dumbfounded stare. “Yeah. I remember you now! We did finish Tess and decided to move onto Kafka’s book. Despite the snobs.”

He felt himself grinning. It’d been a while since he’d talked books with anyone...since before he died actually. Something warm wrapped around his heart. Shakespeare seemed to have genuinely missed him AND remembered him. She seemed to remember him as a friend, even though they’d been passing acquaintances.

“I thought your butler did all the running for you?” Jason politely grabbed the groceries and sent Hero a smirk.

“Mmmh.” Hero shot Jason a forced smile. “I’m actually attending college so...no butler for now.”

It wasn’t that she was ashamed of her new lifestyle, but you didn’t just announce living in Crime Alley. She felt a smile tug at her face as she noted Jason staring.

“You haven’t changed much since I last saw you. Still short.”

“Be quiet. Just because you eat Miracle Grow don’t be looking down on us fun-size creatures!” Hero mockingly waved a fist at Jason. “And I’m not afraid to buy another jug of milk and chuck it at your smug face.”

“Well, you’re more vocal than you used to be,” Jason glanced at his watch and swallowed a groan. “I’d love to keep talking, but unfortunately I’ve been summoned for a family dinner.” Reluctantly he handed Hero her groceries.

“It’s really great to see you again. Maybe we can start up our Book Exchange again.”

It wasn’t a good idea to get close to civilians, but Jason couldn’t help himself. Before he knew it, he was asking for her number and plugging it in.

“I’ll finish Kafka’s book and we can discuss it sometime maybe.” He waved at her lightly before hurrying for his bike. It couldn’t hurt to talk to someone that wasn’t a thug or family.

________________________________________________________________

“Doyle, best day ever! Jason is actually alive! I thought that was some bogus news feed. But no! He’s alive AND he remembered me. Better yet, he asked for my number!” Hero faceplanted on the couch and let out a happy squeal.

“Meoooooow...”

“I’ll feed you, I promise.” Hero mumbled into the pillow. She sighed happily at the thought of discussing books with her old friend.

“MEOW!”

“I hear you,” Hero stood and fed her cat and flipped the TV on. “You know. I used to like him. But that was high school. I’m just happy he remembered me.”

Doyle shot his owner a look that was too human. ‘Sure it was just a crush.’

“You hush. I’m going to watch Colin Firth while I finish my English paper. Pizza should be done by then.” She shook a head at herself...her life was pretty sad if her greatest conversations prior to today had been between her and Doyle.

‘Maybe that will change since Jason is back.’ Hero smiled to herself as she booted up her laptop. One could only hope that her old friendship wasn’t too old to be truly renewed.

___________________________________

Dinner went better than Jason had expected. A dinner with the Wayne family usually held some form of tension, especially with the ever-growing brood. Despite that usual tension Jason had felt surprisingly at ease. For the first time since he’d been resurrected, he felt seen and truly remembered.

Having a very observant family was annoying in the best of situations and infuriating in bad situations. Throughout the meal he’d received various stares and a few snickers from Dick’s direction. He must be smiling too much, quickly he slammed a frown on his face.

“So I’m assuming you need my help on patrol?” Jason threw down his napkin and cracked his knuckles.

“Father and I are able to handle things without--”

“First I want to hear the reason behind Jason actually talking during dinner.” Dick waggled his eyebrows. “Is it a girl? I bet its a girl. Fifty bucks says he got her number!”

Sometimes he really wondered if coming back to Gotham had been a good idea... Maybe there was a nice island he could disappear to?

#jason todd #jasonxoc #friends to lovers #crush #tim drake #bruce wayne #friendship #love #jason todd deserves better

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eiirisworkshop · 7 months

Text

Momento Ipsum: Remember Yourself

An Old Guard fanfiction Complete fic available to read on Ao3 here.

Chapter 1

It was a lovely, calm morning between missions. Breakfast had been leisurely and delicious. The back door was open to just the screen, left that way even after Joe and Andy had come in from puttering around the garden, smelling like sunshine and good dirt. Breeze and birdsong filled the main room where everyone was sprawled in the most comfortable, least ergonomic ways they could find across various chairs, the couch, the floor, and the one table capable of bearing human weight.

Nicky was twiddling a pair of knitting needles while perusing a book of jumper patterns Andy had definitely shoplifted, one of his feet shoved under Joe’s thigh, the other foot braced against Joe’s shoulder while Joe beat Booker at Mariokart again . Nile seemed to be rotating further in her chair with every ding from her Duolingo, had already achieved “sideways,” and was approaching “upside down.” Andy had a gun fully disassembled on the floor in front of her to give it a desperately needed and thorough cleaning. Quynh was lying on the table, her hair and the hood of her red sweatshirt dangling off the edge, reading an edition of Shakespeare with a side-by-side modern English translation for exactly the opposite reason as most people.

It was lovely.

Then there was a loud crack , more like a lightning strike than a gunshot, and there were suddenly twice as many people in the room—the six new arrivals falling directly into the laps of those already present.

Several things happened very quickly. The table broke. There was a lot of swearing in an assortment of languages. The man in Joe’s lap lunged at the one in Nicky’s—the couch was vacated as swords, knitting needles, book, and Wii remote hit the floor. Nile tumbled out of her chair, pinning the sudden invader of her space to the floor at more or less the same moment that Andy and Booker did more or less the same thing, and found herself looking down at—herself, in a hospital gown, staring back up at her with a heartwrenching mix of bewilderment and terror.

“What the fuck?” the Nile who had been doing Duolingo said at the same time the Nile in a hospital gown demanded, “Where the fuck am I?”

“Europe. Among friends,” the other Nile assured. “Mostly,” she amended, at the swearing and snarling from elsewhere in the room. “Uh.”

She glanced around surveyingly. Nicky was bodily hauling a dead-eyed, stringy-haired, scruffy-faced crusader with a real familiar mole out the garden door—took an elbow to the face in the process. Joe had blocked his double into the foyer and had his hands up steadyingly, speaking quickly but softly. In the wreckage of the table, Quynh and her white-clad doppelganger were touching each other’s fingertips and faces with the wary curiosity of a cat encountering a mirror for the first time. Booker was cautiously loosening his grip around the throat of his own mud-stained double. Andy was astride her long-braided many-necklaced self, trying with some difficulty to get control of the ochre-darkened hands scrabbling at her face.

“‘Scuse me just a second.” Nile got to her feet, kicked the knitting needles under the couch, picked up the swords to get them safely out of reach of the Andies, and set them in the corner. “We’re just gonna leave those there.”

“What is going on?” the hospital-gowned Nile asked, also on her feet.

“That’s a great question,” Nile sighed. “Uh, you’re me, apparently. And it looks like they’re them . Best I can tell, you all fell from the sky and, yeah, I got nothin’ on that but it sure seems to be happening so I’m just gonna roll with it. The ones in tshirts are my friends, my team—family, really. At a guess, you were already having a weird day before all this?”

“Well, yeah,” Nile agreed, gesturing down at the hospital gown. “Don’t really end up in a field hospital on a calm day.”

“You died.”

“No, I—”

“Got your throat slit, bled out, then woke up in hospital without so much as a scar?”

“...yeah.”

“Girl, you died.”

“Yeah….”

“Yeah. They all do that, too. We’re immortal—we die and we come right back. I don’t have any answers about that, either, and neither do they. It’s been, uh, several years; I’m kinda used to it. Which is definitely part of why I’m just rolling with whatever the hell’s happening right now. You want some coffee? And pants?”

“Yes please.”

Booker sat back on his heels, mentally half tracking Nile and, apparently, Nile leaving to the kitchen, while Book let, well, himself sit halfway up, one lank dirty curl falling in his face. “Is this Hell?” he asked.

“Ahh,” Booker half shrugged, “not literally.” He glanced over at Andy. “Boss,” he asked, switching to English, “you alright there?”

“Fine,” Andy snarled. “Just—having a language barrier issue.” She managed to pin her double’s hands, leaned down to press their foreheads together, got headbutted for her trouble, swore, did it again, and started to make a shushing chuffing sound Booker had heard her make to horses.

“Shit, I thought you were at least half joking about that,” Booker mumbled, stood, then hauled Recrue le Livre to his feet as well. “I need a drink before I deal with this,” he said, steering himself after Nile toward the kitchen. “And I suspect you need at least two.”

Recrue le Livre nodded.

Outside, Nicky let the screen door bang shut, spat out a mouthful of blood, and slammed Nicolo up against the wall of the house. “ Mother of God , you are a mean stubborn bastard. Stop that. Enough, enough! Look at me; I do not want to fight you. Do you really not have a more pressing concern right now?”

“I am going to drag that heathen pig with me to hell,” Nicolo spat.

“Yeah, has it occurred to you that if you were meant to do that you'd be there by now? How many times have you died today? Three? Six?”

Nicolo glared without answering.

“Lost count already?” Nicky half mocked. “Take a breath, calm down , and let’s not die any more today. Agreed?”

Nicolo huffed.

Inside there was at least less blood, if not less tension.

“Why stop me?” Yusuf demanded.

“Because I don’t want you to kill him.” Joe resisted the urge to tack an “ obviously ” onto that thought.

“He he is an invader and a murder! He and his people came and attacked us without provocation because they think they have more of a right to our home. They rape, and burn, and destroy. He killed me! Several times!”

“Yeah,” Joe sighed. “I know. Nonetheless, I have to ask you not to kill him. Or anyone else for that matter.”

“I don’t want to kill anyone else.”

“Good.”

“You’re me,” the Quynh in white observed, letting a lock of the Quynh in red’s hair slip through her fingers. “How?”

Quynh pushed her hair behind her ear, letting the movement cover the moment it took her to both find a response and the right words in the right language. “The same way you aren’t dead, I think.”

“I don’t know how I’m not dead.”

“Neither do I.” Quynh looked over her shoulder to Andy and her double uneasily sitting up from the floor, bits of gun—tiny springs and screws—sticking to the back of the double’s bare, tattooed shoulder. “None of us do.”

“I’ll get you some clothes in a second,” Nile said, turning away from the coffee pot just as Booker walked in, guiding the other, dirtier, skinnier Booker in front of him.

The Booker she knew left his double in the middle of the room, snagged a bottle of brandy from the top of the fridge, then opened a cabinet for a glass.

Nile crossed her arms. “Book, it’s not even noon yet.”

“Yeah—too damn early for this bullshit.” He finished pouring himself a drink, handed the bottle to the other him who took a swig immediately, then he pointed at the other Nile and asked in French, “You speak French, right?”

“Uh, I, uh,” the other Nile began, very stiltedly in the same language, “study— studied French.”

“Thought so. Good enough.”

That Nile took a breath and looked to the one who hadn’t died today. “This is now, officially, my worst nightmare.”

“Let me go get you some pants.”

Nicky watched as Nicolo went to crouch surlily next to the large flowerpot of mint, careful to keep himself between the crusader and the door. From inside, through the screen, he could just make out what sounded like French from the kitchen, then closer Quynh’s voice back and forth in a language he had heard her speak before with Andy, then Andy herself—herselves?—fumbling frustratedly through something that didn’t deserve to be called a conversation half in what sounded a bit like Latvian, and finally Joe’s voice—or rather Yusuf ’s voice—arguing. Joe ’s side of that conversation was just too soft for Nicky to parse.

If there was a God, this was a terribly meanspirited joke.

Nicky ran a hand over his face and took a breath. “Do you plan on sulking amongst the herbs all day?”

Nicolo half shrugged.

“Where do you think you are?”

“The Holy Land.”

“Does this look like the Holy Land to you?”

“...no.”

Nicky nodded, decidedly ignored the crashing sound immediately followed by Andy swearing from inside, and chose his words carefully. “Do not ask me how, I do not know, but you are now a thousand years from when you were, give or take, in a land whose language you do not speak. The world beyond this house would not be a friendly one to you. You can be safe here but you have to realize this house is not a battlefield.”

For a long tense moment Nicolo didn’t respond, then, “Why are you me?”

“Your guess is as good as mine,” Nicky sighed. “How about we get you cleaned up. There’s water inside and you have a beach worth of sand in your hair.”

With a bit of coaxing, and a couple of appeals to the cleanliness standards of both his grandmother and the abbot he’d studied under, Nicolo left his boots and outermost layers of clothing in a heap on the patio. Nicky guided him inside, one hand firmly on his shoulder, up the stairs, past today’s Nile on her way back down with a set of clothes in hand. She and Nicky exchanged a look as they passed. He quickly explained the workings of the bathroom to Nicolo, offered to help with his hair, was soundly and unsurprisingly told no , fetched the least confusing change of clothes he could come up with, leaned against the wall in the hallway next to the shut bathroom door, and let himself slide down to the floor, arms on his knees. He looked up at a creak on the stairs—Joe paused on the top step, nodded to the bathroom, and asked in German, “Is he going to be a minute?”

Nicky nodded. Joe came and sat next to him.

“Where’s Yusuf ?” Nicky asked, also in German.

“I left him in the kitchen with the Bookers and the Niles. Relatively calm in there. Are you okay?”

Nicky glanced down at the blood spattered on his shirt. “Ah, fine, I just have pointy elbows. You know.” He playfully elbowed Joe in the ribs.

Joe chuckled and nodded, then sobered. “Not really what I meant.”

Nicky let out a breath and shrugged. “I’m fine.” He leaned over to press his forehead to Joe’s shoulder. “But I take back every objection and disagreement I have ever uttered or thought about how badly I stank back then. My God, I was filthy.”

With a laugh, Joe kissed the top of his head. “You smell much better now, my heart. You should change your shirt, though.”

Nick hummed an agreement and sat back. “Do you still have that green henley?”

“The one we have two of?” Joe levered himself to his feet.

“Yeah.”

“You’re an asshole,” Joe said fondly, ducking into their room. He tossed Nicky the shirt, caught the bloodied one tossed back to him, then headed down stairs with a pointed glance at the bathroom door.

A couple moments later, Nicolo emerged from the bathroom, hair damp, wearing sweatpants and the exact same green henley.

“Much better,” Nicky assessed, standing up from the floor.

Nicolo frowned at him. “You changed your shirt.”

“I do generally prefer to not walk around covered in blood, yes.” He gestured for Nicolo to follow him downstairs. One corner of the main room was now taken up by the broken remains of the table, and the TV, which had clearly hit the floor—that must have been the crash earlier. The two of Quynh had each taken up opposite ends of the couch, the one in red, today’s Quynh, making her way through some story or explanation, careful and slow but still fluent, every fifth or seventh word recognizable enough as Vietnamese. Andy was cross-legged on the floor, facing her other self, gesturing, saying one or two words at a time, repeating themselves and each other, shaking their heads in frustration and dismay, staring at each other with such intensity as to—they surely hoped—bring on telepathy.

Everyone else seemed to be in the kitchen.

“Nile,” today’s Quynh called, breaking off her narration. “The Nickies are back.”

“Great,” came Nile’s voice from the kitchen, followed by Nile herself, and the other Nile now in actual clothes, then the Bookers with drinks and snacks. Joe leaned in the kitchen doorway with faux casualness, one shoulder and the opposite hand braced as a barricade, leaving Yusuf behind him to look over his arm.

“So quick practical concern,” today’s Nile said, clapping her hands together. “Since there’s two of everybody in this house—oh, for fucks sake, are you wearing the same shirt? No. Nevermind. Point is, there’s two of everybody in this house and that’s gonna get real confusing real quick so I think we need to agree on what we’re all gonna call each other for however long we’re in this situation.”

There was a pause while everyone who could and needed to translated for their other selves, then Joe said, “Some of that’s easy. Joe, Yusuf.” He indicated himself and the man behind him. “Nicky, Nicolo.”

Nicolo bristled and Nicky quickly muttered, “You do not get to be angry about him calling you by your name.”

Meanwhile, Book gave an agreeable shrug and added, “Booker, Sebastian.”

“Booker?” Sebastian asked through a bite of apple.

He shrugged again. “‘Book’ is le livre in English and ‘Booker’ is a pretty common nickname for someone who works with documents, put that with the whole forger thing, and yeah. Booker. Or Book.”

“One of us could go by our last name,” the other Nile suggested while the Quynhs seemed to negotiate something. “We’ll respond to it.”

“Yeah, but we’ll both respond to it,” today’s Nile pointed out.

“We both respond to both our names.” Nicky gestured between himself and Joe. “And fairly frequently meet people with the same names; they’re not uncommon. You might look up every time, but if you know that name doesn’t mean you right now, you’ll ignore it quickly.”

The Niles looked at each other.

“You been outa the military a while, right?”

“Yeah.”

“As of this morning, I’m still a marine. Figure I’m more used to being called Freeman than you are at this point—I’ll go by it.”

“Okay,” Nile agreed. “That works.”

“I can be Mbay,” today’s Quynh said. “Big sister. And she can be Heyem, little sister.”

“So that just leaves…,” Nile and several of the others all looked to Andy.

Andy shook her head and took a breath. “I don’t remember her name,” she said quietly, “and I don’t know how to ask her.”

“This is not the first time you’ve run into someone with whom you don’t share a language.” Big Sister Quynh slid from the couch down to the floor in front of the many-necklaced warrior watching her cannily. Quynh met her gaze, pressed a hand to her own chest, and said clearly, “Mbay Quynh.” She pointed to Little Sister. “Heyem Quynh.” She continued, pointing around the room. “Nicky. Nicolo. Nile. Freeman. Sebastian. Booker. Yusuf. Joe. Andy.” She held a hand out to the warrior expectantly.

She responded with what sounded like a question.

“Andy,” Andy said, mimicking the hand-to-chest motion, then gesturing to her other self.

The other woman lit up and pressed one ochre-painted hand to her bare breast and gave her name.

Andy smiled warmly and repeated the name softly to herself. She looked around at the others. “Now can any of you pronounce that?”

“Uh, what was that second consonant…?” Joe asked.

“Yeah, didn’t think so,” Andy muttered, then turned back to her double. “Andy,” she said, pointing to herself, then held her hands up, palms facing each other a few inches apart. She moved her hands farther from each other. “Andromache.” Closer together. “Andy.” Farther apart. “Andromache.”

The other her hummed an understanding, pointed to Andy, and repeated the two names with the associated hand distances.

Andy grinned, gestured to her double, said her name with her hands the farther distance, then moved her hands closer together with a questioning look.

After a moment, the double mirrored the movement—hands apart she repeated her name, then hands together she said, “Änjha.”

Andy grabbed Änjha’s hands excitedly, kissed her knuckles, and got an affectionate head bonk in return. “I trust,” Andy tossed over her shoulder, “that you can all manage to only halfway butcher that one.”

“We’ll do our best,” Nicky assured.

“Now that’s worked out,” Joe said with an air of authority, “Booker—whose bedraggled past self is getting washed next, you or me?”

"Yours,” Book said easily. “It’ll be a bit before mine can be voluntarily parted from food.”

“Starving to death is one of the worst,” Big Sister Quynh agreed sagely before launching back into her conversation with Little Sister.

“I have so many questions,” Freeman muttered.

Nile clapped her on the shoulder. “I can help with that.”

They retreated back to the kitchen while Joe herded Yusuf upstairs and Andy and Änjha resumed attempting to deconstruct the Tower of Babel.

“So, we can’t die?” Freeman asked.

“Generally speaking, yes,” Nile confirmed. She glanced between the coffee pot and the cache of booze on top of the fridge, then went to pour herself another mug of coffee.

“Generally speaking?” Freeman’s eyebrows went for her hairline.

“Yeah. Hand me your mug.”

“It can go away,” Booker said in French, coming in with Sebastian. “The immortality.”

Sebastian half choked on a swig of brandy. “What?”

“Did he just say what I think he just said?” Freeman asked.

“Yeah.” Nile handed Freeman her refilled mug of coffee. “It can go away, and we don’t know why.”

“Sounds like you don’t know anything,” Freeman challenged.

“Who really knows why anything happens in life?” Booker countered, still in French. He looked to Sebastian. “You’re too new for yours to falter, and mine never has—even when I’ve wished it would.”

“I know most of those words,” Freeman shook her head, “have no idea what he just said. I’m still in medical, aren’t I? Conked my head or have some anesthesia allergy or some shit and this really is a nightmare, right? There’s two of me and I’m reliving parts of my French Two final—I’m tellin’ you, this has to be a nightmare.”

Nile chuckled and responded in French, “This is not a nightmare.” She switched to English and stepped towards the kitchen table. “Here, sit. The multilingualism is actually harder to adjust to than the immortality—ridiculous, maybe, but true. He was saying that when you’re new, you’re safe. It’s not something that happens once then never again. A couple times, though, after a long time, it’s stopped. There was one we never met,” she gestured to encompass herself and Booker, who was translating to Sebastian while raiding the fridge. “He died after a thousand-odd years and stayed dead. Quynh and Andy don’t talk about him much.”

Freeman almost spat her coffee. “A thousand ?”

“When you don’t die,” Booker said, “you get old fast.”

Freeman rubbed her forehead, processing the language, then the meaning. “How old are you?”

“He died for the first time in 1812, fighting with Napoleon,” Nile provided. She waved at hand at Sebastian. “See uniform.”

“To be fair,” Freeman said slowly, “weren’t French uniforms kinda ridiculous and blue until, like, World War Two?”

Nile cocked her head. “Good point.”

Joe left Yusuf to shower and went to dig through his own clothes. He pondered a pair of trousers a moment. “Am I about to test the line between masochism and schadenfreude?” he mused aloud. “Yeah.” He tossed the trousers over his shoulder. “Yeah I am.”

Freshly showered, Yusuf looked dubiously down at the clothes being presented to him, then back up to Joe.

“They’re very fashionable,” Joe assured. “Among my favorites.”

“They seem uncomfortable.” Even so, Yusuf set about dressing.

Joe waved a hand dismissively. “Only when they’re new. I’ve had these for ages, they’re broken in.” He bit back his amusement watching Yusuf wriggle uncertainly into a pair of faded black jeans that weren't strictly skinny jeans—certainly not by the standards of the year Joe had bought them—but were far from loose and, most importantly, had an absolutely ridiculous fly with two zippers and a total of four buttons.

“You have to undo all this every time you take a piss?” Yusuf grumbled, figuring out how to work the various fastenings.

“Nah, usually only one set.” Joe clapped his shoulder jovially. “They’re good for riding.” Motorcycles , not horses, but now was not the time for that distinction. Joe went to call down the stairs in French that it was Sebastian’s turn to bathe, then prodded Yusuf into his and Nicky’s room, saying, “Dhuhr.”

Had Joe been keeping prayer times recently? Decidedly not, but ritual and structure were powerful tools in tempering chaos.

When they came back downstairs, only Nicky and Nicolo were in the living room, bottle of wine and an old National Geographic open to a world map between them, everyone else either in the kitchen or the back garden—or still upstairs showering. Joe yanked Yusuf along before he could successfully take a swipe at either or both of the Italians as they passed. Nicolo spat a slur after them that needed no translation.

“You know,” Nicky said, rubbing at the bridge of his nose, “he’s really not that bad once you stop trying to kill each other and talk .”

“I can’t talk to him,” Nicolo pointed out. “And I wouldn’t want to if I could.”

“Greek,” Joe said firmly, in Greek, turning back to address the crusader, one hand still fisted in the back of Yusuf’s shirt to keep him leashed. “You both speak Greek . Yours is unnaturally formal,” he told Nicolo, “and,” he turned to Yusuf, “your grammar is very bad. But you both speak Greek.”

Nicolo and Yusuf both crossed their arms and glared at opposite corners of the room. Joe and Nicky met each other’s gaze.

“This feels like divine punishment,” Nicky said flatly, in German.

“This feels,” Joe countered in Greek, “like Andy’s idea of entertainment, if she weren’t so preoccupied.”

Nicky snorted and waved off a questioning, almost accusatory look from Nicolo while Joe tugged Yusuf into the kitchen.

Outside, Andy was occupied re-braiding Änjha’s long hair, contemplating growing her own out for the first time in more than a century, listening to Big Sister reminisce with Little Sister, and wishing she could do the same. Änjha started humming to herself and Andy began humming absently along before the tune hit her like a shot and her hands stilled. After a moment, Änjha turned over her shoulder, frowning, to ask in so many words, “Are you okay?”

Andy shook herself, hummed an affirmative, poked Änjha to face forward, and quickly finished up the braid and tied it. Änjha turned fully then to face her, ruffled the short fringe that kept threatening to fall into Andy’s eyes, and began to sing an old story Andy had forgotten the words to long before she’d forgotten the plot, but had never quite lost the melody. She nodded along in time with the tune, half laughing, tears in her eyes, keenly aware that both of Quynh had stopped their conversation to listen.

End of chapter! Read the rest on Ao3 here.

#eiiri made this #fanfiction #the old guard #the old guard fic

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teddyoverthinks · 2 years

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a conversation about borrowing ideas in literature

teddyoverthinks: hahha I just feel so bad for stealing the bucket thing. I purposefully didn't read any izzy/roach beach scenes while writing, but it must have stuck with me subconsciously, or something.

@bedalk: Haha but that’s the beauty of fandom! We can influence each other!

teddyoverthinks: Yeah, I definitely agree. I think I just get annoyed when its not conscious.

It’s definitely my favorite thing about fanfiction—that it’s a way for literature to be retold, which literature should be.

I hate that copyright and trademark put limits on retelling stories and changing only a little.

@bedalk: Yes exactly! I just love how fan fic builds off of other media. But yeah, it sucks how copyright Iimits people and stunts sharing creativity.

teddyoverthinks: That's a big reason why I made this account, actually. I think the retelling of stories is inherently sacred, whether it's connected to a religious faith or not.

Like, the formation of any canon of lore about one subject means it's important to a lot of people. I love to investigate those canons, whether they’re centered around the classic characters/tales like Heracles or Odysseus or Sherlock Holmes; or new ones like Harry Potter or OFMD’s version of Blackbeard & the Gentleman Pirate. I especially like looking into well established canon-fanon like Star Trek or Tolkien’s stuff*.

*(Both of which have interesting idiosyncracies. Star Trek has had fanon become canon, and Tolkien wrote as if he was translating a canon of works coming from various sources.)

The internet speeds up the process of the canon-creation we see with Star Trek and it especially speeds up the process of creating canons in general. Fanfiction has something of a limited population, but writing a modern AU of the BBC Merlin telling of the story of King Arthur is faster than creating a remake of the movie version of the musical that was a modern adaptation of Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet*.

*(I here referred to West Side Story (2021)).

it was Tolkien who said

[Folklorists and anthropologists using fairy stories as a quarry from which to dig evidence about matters in which they are interested] are inclined to say that any two stories that are built round the same folk-lore motive, or are made up of a generally similar combination of such motives, are ‘the same stories.’ We read that… ‘The Black Bull of Norroway is Beauty and the Beast’ or ‘is the same story as Eros and Psyche’… Statements of that kind may express (in undue abbreviation) some element of truth; but they are not true in a fairy-story sense, they are not true in art or literature. It is precisely the colouring, the atmosphere, the unclassifiable individual details of a story, and above all the general purport that informs with life the undissected bones of the plot, that really count. …To take the extreme case of Red Riding Hood: it is of merely secondary interest that the re-told versions of this story, in which the little girl is saved by wood-cutters, is directly derived from Perrault’s story in which she was eaten by the wolf. The really important thing is that the later version has a happy ending (more or less, and if we do not mourn the grandmother overmuch), and that Perrault’s version had not. And that is a very profound difference, to which I shall return.

—JRR Tolkien, “Origins” section of Tree and Leaf: On Fairy-Stories

Tolkien argued that a retelling of a story is a new story entirely, because the changes reflect the themes and emotions of the piece.

It is my belief that stories build on other stories whether we want them to or not. Authors who do it knowingly are more likely to create something of worth, because working with purpose to create a good collage generally ends better than battling to create a story that's simultaneously going to be marketable and 'unique'. So, I guess it stressed me out a bit to have borrowed unknowingly because I like the feeling of working with purpose.

Hm. I think this rant will be my next post.

#I have a real issue with ranting in peoples dms #genuinely love talking to bedalk because they never make me feel bad for it #fanfiction #fanfic #writers on tumblr #english literature #literature #fairy-stories #folklore #storytelling #teddy's rants

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klbwriting · 4 months

Text

Not Romeo, Not Juliet

Chapter 8: With My Eyes

Fandom: Red Hood

Pairing: Jason Todd x f!reader

Warnings: mentions of blood and stitches

Summary: Jason goes to YN for help after being shot, then Dick finds them

Notes: this is so angsty and fluffy and amazing, I am loving writing this, I hope you're all liking it, and I'm realizing it might be longer than planned, might have to go passed the Shakespeare competition, not sure yet, let me know how you feel about it! Also song is 'Stick Season' by Noah Kahan

I would my father look’d but with my eyes.

— A MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S DREAM, ACT 1 SCENE 1

It was late when Jason got to YN’s door but considering he was still bleeding from a bullet wound he didn’t care. He knocked, louder than necessary probably, the door opening a minute later, YN standing there with a large knife. Good, she knew better than to not have a weapon this late at night. Jason had stowed his gear in his bag in the alley by the apartment building, he would have to explain the gunshot to YN, but better that than explaining the whole Red Hood thing. She stared at him for a moment before seeing the blood dripping from his side.

“Jason…” she said, voice hitching a little, pulling him inside. “Um, ya, um, kitchen floor.” She scrambled to get an old blanket, setting it down on the floor and getting him a pillow, leaning it against the cabinets. He leaned against it, hearing her scrambling around the rest of the place, coming back with pills, a medicine kit, needle and thread.

“You think I need stitches again?” he asked. She stared at him.

“Every time you show up bloody you need stitches, I’m just prepared at this point,” she said, trying to make light of the situation, but her face was pale, and Jason assumed his pallor was similar. She gave him some pain pills first this time before having him peel his shirt off. “There has to be easier ways to get you to take your clothes off for me…” she muttered, and he barked out a laugh, this hissed in pain. “Hold still, I’m going to sew up the back first, lean forward.” He did as asked, head leaning against his knees. He heard her fumbling with the needle, dropping it once, her breathing staggered. He started to breathe deep and after a minute she started doing to same, mimicking his breath. “Are you ready?”

“Ya, go ahead YN, I trust you,” he said softly. She put a hand to his back, and he felt calm at the touch. He did trust her. It wasn’t something he was super familiar with anymore, considering how things ended with Bruce, how he had been abandoned and replaced. Even Alfred hadn’t bothered to do anything about his death, just moved on. Dick had cared but Jason could see the strain dealing with him was having on his brother. He was trying, he really was, but he couldn’t just sit still. He couldn’t force himself into that box of being a normal teenager. He was full of rage against those who would hurt people he cared about, and full of desire to help people, to make things better. Not Batman better, but for real better. He knew Dick wouldn’t like what he was doing, but he didn’t care anymore, not when he had YN. She was worth protecting, she was worth making this neighborhood better for. Everything felt better in him when he felt her hand, gently holding his back while she stitched him, her voice soft as it sang a random song to keep herself steady.

“I’m done with the back, can you lie on your back? I’m sorry if it hurts,” she said softly. He moved himself and she set the pillow down so he could lay his head on it. She disinfected the entrance wound, still not asking about it, focusing on stitching him instead. He watched her, noticing how her eyes were focused, her hair gently falling down the side of her face. He reached up and tucked it behind her ear just before she started. “No distracting me,” she said, voice soft but firm.

“Right, sorry, just wanted to look at you,” he said. The blush that hit her cheeks made him smile as she poked the needle in him. She went back to muttering a song again, one she had told him to listen to. He had listened and joined in when he realized where she was, she stopped just listening to him now.

So I thought that if I piled something good on all my bad That I could cancel out the darkness I inherited from dad

She smiled, joining him again as she finished, putting another bandage on his stomach, looking at him. Instead of stopping he just kept singing, her joining him as they stared at each other.

And I’ll dream each night of some version of you That I might not have, but I did not lose Now you’re tire tracks and one pair of shoes And I’m split in half, but that’ll have to do Oh, that’ll have to do My other half is you…

They both stopped, realizing they both had changed the words to the song. Jason leaned up on his elbows a little, ignoring the pain in abs. YN reached out and touched his face, tracing the scar on his cheek that she had stitched up.

“Jason…” she whispered, her voice the most angelic sound he had ever heard. He loved when she said his name. She leaned towards him and he pushed himself up more to meet her, just about to feel her lips on his, when the door burst open. Jason threw the knife he had in his pants pocket before he saw who was there, YN falling back to sit against the cabinets. Dick was lucky his reflexes were so good or he would have at least had a scar matching Jason’s.

“What are you doing here?” Dick asked, looking from YN to Jason and then to the blood on the kitchen floor. “What happened?” Jason stood slowly, YN helping him. She handed him his shirt and he looked at her, leaning down to kiss her cheek.

“I’ll talk to you later,” he whispered. She nodded, folding her arms, noticing that Dick was glaring daggers at her. Jason didn’t understand why, but now he was livid. Not only had Dick pretty much cockblocked his first kiss since he had been dead, he also was scaring her with his look. He grabbed his bag and followed his brother out of the apartment building, glancing up at the window as he passed. YN was staring down, watching him get into Dick’s car. He slammed the door, tossing his bloody shirt and bag in the back. They drove home in silence.

“What in the hell were you thinking?” Dick asked, showing Jason video that was going viral of this ‘Red Helmet’, o God it was worse than Red Mask, taking down Maroni’s guys at the club. Jason sighed and shrugged, tossing his back on the couch. Dick immediately, opened it, finding his helmet. “So tell me, how long have you been outright lying to me?”

“A couple months,” Jason answered honestly. Dick nodded. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“O don’t pull that shit on me, I’m 24, I’m not that far removed from being you right now,” he said. “I can understand the helmet and you’re a hero, you saved everyone in that club, so good on you for that. But you could have told me about that, I would have taken you out patrolling Bludhaven with me.”

“I didn’t want to protect Bludhaven,” Jason muttered. Dick sighed and threw the helmet into the couch cushions next to his brother.

“No, you wanted to go see that girl,” he said. “What about that girl from the play, Annabeth?”

“Annabeth is a character from the Percy Jackson books I read as a kid, she is entirely made up,” Jason admitted. “I’ve been seeing YN when I’m not making sure I get perfect grades or going to practice.” He wanted to drive home that YN was not bad for him, he was still being the perfect little student, and doing exactly what Dick told him too, except for seeing someone he didn’t approve of. “And I still don’t understand what your problem is with her. I mean, not like I’m much better, I literally grew up in that apartment building, for all I know we could have met when we were kids…”

“She’s Sal Maroni’s daughter,” Dick said. Jason stopped and stared at him. It didn’t compute for a moment.

“Sal Maroni’s?” he asked. Dick nodded. “She doesn’t know who her father is, at all.”

“Ya well, he knows her. Why do you think she is going to Gotham Academy? He needs a spare child, and since both his adult children are on a crash course for disaster, she’s his last hope,” Dick explained. Jason shook his head.

“How do you know all this?” he asked. Dick looked at him like he couldn’t be serious. “Bruce, keeping tabs, I forget you talk to him still, just not about me.” His brother sighed.

“I don’t know how to tell him about you. But that’s not the point, the point is, when she graduates, Sal is going to offer for her to join him, to start becoming his second so that he can pass down his legacy to her,” he said. Jason shook his head.

“She wouldn’t do that, she’s not going to become some crime boss,” he argued.

“What if he offers her what she wants most in the world?” Dick countered. Jason stopped. Her mother’s cancer. Maroni could get them help, could help her mother live longer.

“We could help her first, we could give her that money for her mom, make up a non-profit or something, like Bruce used to do,” Jason said, wanting to do something to help her, to make sure that she didn’t fall into Maroni’s hands. Dick shook his head. “WHY?”

“Because Jason, we don’t actually know her…”

“You don’t know her! I know her! I LOVE HER!” Jason yelled, standing too quickly. He hissed out and glared as the stitches opened, new blood seeping through. Dick shook his head.

“You’re a kid Jason, you’ll get over it, now let’s go to the hospital and get you really fixed,” Dick said, ending the conversation. Jason was fuming. They may have finished talking for the night, but this wasn’t over.

#jason todd #jasontodd #jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd x y/n #redhood #red hood #red hood x reader #red hood x you #red hood x y/n #notromeo

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