#i will do so much infodumping about art in the chapter notes | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

specialagentsergio · 3 years

Text

all we can do is keep breathing || chapter two

summary: Spencer’s doing better, but recovery isn’t linear, and some scars run deeper than either of you knew.

pairing: spencer reid x gn!reader

category: angst (eventual happy ending)

content warnings: swearing, drug abuse & addiction, substance use disorder, ptsd, descriptions of panic attacks/ptsd episodes, recollection of past bullying, unhealthy coping mechanisms, yelling/fighting, negative feelings towards other team members, body image issues

a/n: i was so taken aback by the response to chapter one--i didn’t think anyone would even read it tbh. thank you all and thanks for being patient with my lack of an upload schedule. i'm so sorry the word count is massive again. you get tummy appreciation, though, because 1) we all love spencer’s tummy, and 2) i personally gained weight when i was in residential treatment and it can be a bit of a mindfuck lol.

a/n 2: repeated disclaimer that i'm not a doctor, psychologist, psychiatrist, etc., just a direct care staff, past rtc patient and trauma recovery enthusiast. the horse therapy is pretty much entirely based on my own personal experience from nearly a decade ago, so don’t expect it to be an accurate portrayal of equine-assisted psychotherapy.

word count: 7.3k

song: you will be found from dear evan hansen

fic masterlist || masterlist

He’s been looking forward to the start of equine therapy since he got a spot in the program. But instead of being excited the morning of, Spencer ends up crying for an hour straight.

The day started off fine. It wasn’t hard to get up with the horses to look forward to, and he was able to get an extra plate at breakfast, so he could keep the pancake syrup from touching the eggs and sausage. Art therapy was a few hours later. He’d started to actually enjoy the pottery project—the recreational therapist had brought him a box of disposable gloves to use so the feeling of drying clay on his hands was no longer a problem.

Everyone’s projects were coming out of the kiln today and the next step was painting them. He’d been planning out the design and colors he wanted to use since the project started and was excited to finally start applying it.

Then he dropped his item, it broke into pieces, and he burst into tears.

He’d fled the room on instinct alone and curled up in a corner of the hallway, pressing his knees to his forehead. He was upset about the pottery, and upset that he was so affected by it breaking. He felt stupid and silly for crying over it, which only made him cry harder.

He heard distant laughter and he clapped his hands over his ears. He was being laughed at again for being a crybaby. He didn’t want to be a crybaby. He wanted to stop crying, he just couldn’t. The goalpost was cold against the bare skin of his back, and his wrists were starting to burn from the ties.

I want to go home. Just let me go home, please, I’ll do anything. Let me go, let me go--

“Spencer, it’s okay. You’re safe here. Can you repeat after me? I’m safe here.”

Safe here. Safe here.

Art therapy was over by the time he came out of it.

He has lunch at his therapist’s office instead of with the group. Lara asks what his flashback had been to.

He picks at his food. “It happened a long time ago. I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Alright. Can you tell me how it felt instead?”

Spencer isn’t really hungry, but bites into his sandwich to stall for time. She doesn’t rush him. Eventually, he asks, “Do you know what alexithymia means?”

“No words for feelings,” she replies.

He nods. “That’s all.”

Lara opens one of her desk drawers and pulls out a composition notebook, which she then hands to him.

“What’s this for?”

“I want you to start trying to notice your feelings and sensations throughout the day. Make some kind of note, even if you don’t exactly have the words to describe it.”

He sighs. “Why?”

“Just noticing what you feel can help you develop emotional regulation,” she explains. She’s always been honest with him about the why of what she wants him to try and do. “It’s going to help you stop ignoring what’s going on inside you.”

I don’t want to do that.

“I know you don’t.”

“I didn’t mean to say that out loud,” he blurts. “That either. I—god.” He quickly takes another bite of food before he can say more.

“It’s fine. I didn’t expect you to like it,” Lara says with a small smile. “I’m sure the thought of confronting what you’ve been suppressing and avoiding is scary. But getting better requires you to do a lot of scary things.”

Spencer wants to protest. Being strapped to a chair in a shed and dosed against your will is scary. Your mother being diagnosed with Alzheimer's is scary. Being sent to prison for a crime you didn’t commit is scary. Feeling things? That’s not scary.

Isn’t it?

He tries not to think on it too much.

Despite the unpleasant thoughts running through his mind, Spencer finds himself nodding off on the van ride to the horse ranch. His eyes unfocus, his blink rate slows… and then he jerks back awake at the sensation of his head falling forward.

A frustrated noise escapes the back of his throat. He’s sick of feeling tired all the time. He’s getting enough sleep in theory, but still finds himself drowsy at least once a day. It’s to the point that he’s regularly wearing his glasses instead of his contacts to keep his eyes from feeling quite so dry. He pushes them back up now as he tries to tune back in to his surroundings.

“… don’t get how seeing some horse is supposed to make me feel better.” That’s Aiden’s voice. He’s Spencer’s new roommate. He wasn’t happy when he found out he was getting a new one, having much preferred having the room to himself, but it’s been okay so far, mostly because they keep out of each other’s way. Aiden seems uninterested in making friends, and that suits Spencer just fine. Lara’s been encouraging him to talk to fellow patients instead of just the direct care staff, but he’s resisted it. The last time he befriended someone, they ended up--

Spencer’s fine with the two of them keeping to themselves.

Melanie, one of the staff accompanying them, is leaned over the back of the middle seat as she talks to Aiden. “Well, I couldn’t tell you why exactly, but I’ve seen this program help a lot of people in my time here,” she says. “Spencer?”

“What?”

“You’ve been reading a lot about horses, right?” At his nod, she continues, “What have you found out?”

“Equine-assisted psychotherapy lacks the rigorous scientific evidence to demonstrate if it provides benefits in mental health treatment. Horses have been used to aid in psychiatric treatment since the 1990’s, though,” he says. He intends to stop there, but can’t stop himself from continuing. “It doesn’t necessarily involve riding, but may include grooming, feeding, and ground exercises. The goal is to help the client in social, emotional, cognitive, and or behavioral ways.”

He can feel Aiden’s eyes on him and takes a breath before meeting them. He knows all too well that his infodumps aren’t always well received. He doesn’t want to be friends, but would prefer for his roommate to not view him with disdain or annoyance. But Aiden looks interested, and says as much--”that’s interesting.” He looks like he wants to say more, but doesn’t, and there’s silence between them for the remainder of the drive. It’s not uncomfortable, though.

When the van pulls into a parking spot and everyone starts to get out, Spencer begins to feel nervous. He’s read everything he could get his hands on, but as a relatively new therapy, there’s no standard program; it varies by facility, so he doesn’t know exactly what to expect. He’s been looking forward to this, but what if it turns out to be a bad fit for him? What if the people here don’t like him? What if the horses don’t like him?

He hangs at the back of their group of ten—six patients and two staff—as they’re led to a shaded area. They’re introduced to the program director and assistants, and are given an overview of what they’ll be doing over the next six weeks. They won’t be riding the horses, just doing groundwork (he’s not sure if he feels relieved or disappointed). Then he learns that intention of this specific program isn’t just for the horses to help the clients—the clients are to help the horses as well. The animals all have the gentle temperaments suited for therapy, but also have their own struggles. A lot of them were adopted out of poor situations.

They’re led to a circular corral next and spaced equidistantly around the edge. Spencer’s heart rate picks up as the horses are brought in—the animals will be picking their therapy partner, the director says. As they’re let off their leads a jolt of anxiety runs through his body, making him twitch slightly. This feels uncomfortably familiar to school P.E. when teams were picked. No one wanted him then. What’s gong to happen if none of the horses want him, either? He looks down at his shoes.

But just a few moments later, he hears his name, and looks up to see one of the horses approaching him. “Looks like you and Chance are our first pair,” the director is saying.

First?

Chance is almost entirely black, save for a spot of white between his eyes and above his nose. His size is a little intimidating, but his demeanor is gentle. One of the assistants comes up to Spencer and instructs him to hold out his hand so the horse can sniff it.

His hand trembles slightly as he lifts it. Warm breath hits his fingers as Chance sniffs at it. Then the horse presses his nose completely against his hand. The moistness would usually bother Spencer, but for some reason it doesn’t. Instead, a smile slowly spreads across his face. The assistant tells him he can pet Chance now. He runs his hand up and down the horse’s snout, and despite the slight coarseness of the hair, finds it soothing.

The horse shuffles closer when Spencer is given his lead to hold. A startled laugh escapes him when Chance presses his nose into his neck. He pats his head a few times, then takes a tiny step back. He’s thrilled that at least one of the horses likes him, but feels a little crowded by the large animal. To his surprise, Chance seems to understand, and takes a step back of his own.

He absently pats his horse as he watches the rest of the group pair up. He still can’t believe he was picked first.

The rest of their time with the horses is very simple. They’re taught how to lead them, and after practicing in the corral, they take the horses back to their paddocks. Spencer’s disappointed to say goodbye already, but understands the need to not overwhelm the horses or even themselves. “I’ll see you next week,” he finds himself whispering to Chance.

There’s ten minutes left in the session, and it’s spent with the director telling them more about each horses’ specific background. Chance was poorly treated by his previous owner, mostly kept locked up in a small barn and not properly cared for. He has many talents and abilities, the director says. He needs to learn that he didn’t deserve to be treated the way he was, and be told that he is brave.

Spencer rests his chin in his hand and stares out the window on the drive back to the treatment center. He knows from his reading that horses are emotionally intelligent creatures, but he’s still… well, amazed by how the horses all picked who was most similar to them out of the group instinctively.

He feels more understood by an animal he’s interacted with for twenty minutes than he has by a person for months.

Before bed that night, he chews on the stem of his pen cap, thinking over the events of his day. Slowly, in a manner that could almost be described as cautious, he picks up the empty composition book Lara gave him and opens it. His hand hovers over the blank page for a few moments, then he puts pen on paper and begins to write.

---

You made dinner reservations for his visit this Saturday. You’re getting ready for it when there’s a knock on the front door.

“I’ll get it,” Spencer calls from the living room.

You return to fixing your hair up. You’re not expecting anyone, so it’s probably just a package or a neighbor. But just a few moments later, you hear Spencer raise his voice.

“No! No, I don’t—don’t touch me, please.”

You’re only half dressed, but hurry out to the living room anyways. When you round the corner, you immediately see what the problem is: JJ has dropped by unexpectedly.

It’s not that Spencer doesn’t want to see his team. They just bring memories with them, and he had decided shortly after his birthday that he wasn’t ready to confront that yet.

He’s standing a little ways back from the door, staring at JJ while she looks back with hurt on her face. “Spence--” she starts before she sees you.

At Spencer’s side, you place a hand on his arm and he takes a step behind you. “JJ, what are you doing here?”

She struggles to keep her eyes off of him as she answers. “(Y/N), I’m sorry, I just—Will and I made cookies with the boys today and we had a lot of extra, so I just wanted to drop some off for you. I—I didn’t know Spence was here. I didn’t mean to--”

You hold up a hand to stop her. “It’s okay, JJ. You couldn’t have known. You were just trying to do something nice.”

She nods, relieved at your understanding. “Yeah. Yeah, I….” She blows out a breath, then holds out a plastic wrapped plate of cookies to you. You take it from her with a quiet thank you. Then she looks back to the man that’s essentially hiding behind you as best as he can, despite how tall he is. “Spence, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you wouldn’t want me to touch you.”

There’s a tug on your clothing as he curls his fingers into the fabric on the small of your back. You tilt your head to look at him, but his gaze is on the floor. “You…” he glances up once, then looks back down. “You should ask next time,” he says quietly.

“Okay,” she replies, just as softly. “I will.”

You bite down on the inside of your cheeks to hold back a smile. Spencer often struggles to advocate for his needs, especially with his friends and colleagues, in fear of being a burden or more of a nuisance than he thinks others already perceive him as. He did it a lot with you when you first started dating. It took a lot of time and reassurance that yes, you really did want to know his wants and needs, for him to open up. Telling JJ to ask before touching him may seem small from the outside, but it’s a big deal for him.

After a rather awkward silence, JJ speaks again. “Well, um, I should get going. Just… let us know if you need anything, okay, Spence? We—the team, we’re all here for you.”

“That’s rich,” Spencer mutters behind you and you freeze. You recognize that edge to his voice. It’s usually accompanied by sharp words and remarks that he’ll regret later.

Please please please tell me JJ didn’t hear that.

“I’m sorry?”

Fuck.

“I hate to rush you out, JJ, but we have dinner reservations, so--” you try to interject but Spencer speaks over you.

“I’m just saying, why should I believe you’re here for me when you weren’t last time?”

JJ’s eyebrows come together. “I… don’t understand, I’ve always--”

“No, you haven’t!” It’s like Spencer can’t get the words out fast enough, the way he keeps interrupting before either of you can finish a sentence. This is clearly something that’s been weighing on him. You just wish he was unloading it onto his therapist rather than poor JJ, his best friend outside of you, who’s just trying to be nice. “Ten years ago I was shooting up in police station bathrooms and Emily is the only one who said a damn thing.”

His grip on your clothes tightens, forcing you to take a step back. You move the plate of cookies to one hand and reach back with the other, circling it around his wrist. “Spencer.”

Realization dawns on JJ’s face and she crosses her arms. “Spence, I couldn’t--”

“You couldn’t.” The little laugh he lets out derisive. “Yeah, I’ve heard that before.”

You don’t know where all this is coming from or what he’s referring to, but JJ does, her expression hardening.

“You know what would have happened if the higher ups found out,” she says. “I was protecting your job. We all were.”

“You shouldn’t have!” he cries, emotions other than anger seeping into the words. “This damn job is one of the worst things that’s ever happened to me! I got anthrax poisoning, I still have issues with my knee from being shot. I nearly died from a shot in the neck, and let’s not forget, I was framed for murder by a psychopath I arrested, who then kidnapped my mother while I was in prison! Oh, and what else? Oh right, this job is the reason I’m a fucking addict in the first place!”

JJ’s clearly trying to hold back tears now, but one slips out and your heart aches for her. You close your eyes briefly and take a deep breath, then speak quietly but firmly. “Spencer, you need to leave the room.”

You can hear him breathing shakily behind you. “(Y/N)--”

“Now.” You squeeze his wrist and he finally lets go of your clothing. He takes a few steps away, stops, turns back and opens his mouth to say something, but at the look you give him, shuts it and continues on his way out.

A sniffle draws your attention back to JJ, who’s looking up at the ceiling and swiping at the tears sliding down. “Sorry,” she mutters. “I shouldn’t have come by without giving you a heads-up. I’ve just made things worse.”

“No, JJ, don’t be sorry. It--” There’s thumping noises from further back in the apartment so you step forward and shut the front door behind you. She has her arms wrapped around herself when you turn back.

“It’s not your fault,” you continue. “You were just trying to be nice. You’re a good friend to him. He’s just… everything is really raw for him right now, if that makes sense?”

She nods, wiping at her eyes again.

“It’s, uh, not an excuse, though,” you clarify. “That’s not what I’m trying to say. You didn’t do anything wrong. That was all him, so please don’t blame yourself.”

JJ is quiet for a bit, staring at the floor. Then she says, “I should get going.”

“Yeah, that’s probably for the best,” you agree quietly. Realizing you’re still holding the plate of cookies in one hand, you lift it slightly and add, “Thanks for these. And, um… I’m so sorry about that.”

She shakes her head and glances at the door. “Don’t be. Like you said, it was all him,” she murmurs.

You know she��s right, but you’re still barely able to stop yourself from apologizing again as she descends the stairs. You can’t help but feel like you should have done more, stopped him somehow, even though you don’t know how you could have. The way his behavior changed… it was like he wanted to get it all out, and when Spencer Reid wants to say something, it’s nearly impossible to get him to stop.

The apartment isn’t quiet when you walk back in. There’s the scraping and clatter of a desk drawer, followed by frantic footsteps and the thud of books falling off the shelves. You know what he’s doing, and you know he won’t find anything, so you just lock the front door and continue on to the kitchen to put the cookies away.

You lean on the counter and cover your face with your hands. It doesn’t matter if you mess up your hair or face, or anything, really, because you’re not making it to dinner anymore.

You stay like that for a while, eyes closed, trying to think of a place to even start with Spencer after all of that. When the sounds of him tearing through the apartment stop, you lift you head back up and promptly jump—he’s staring at you from the nearest doorway.

“Jesus, Spencer--”

“Where’s my stuff?” he asks, and the seriousness in his tone of voice makes your anxiety spike. You know exactly what he means by stuff.

“It’s gone. What did you think was gonna happen?”

“Yeah, but it’s…” he trails off and his expression puzzles you. It almost looks like he’s confused. “It’s all gone.”

Ah. “Yeah, well, I know you think you’re sneaky, but you’re very much the opposite when you’re not sober,” you reply. “Finding your hiding spots wasn’t hard.”

He drops his gaze to the floor, frowning. “I don’t like it when you move my things,” he says quietly.

“I don’t like it when you use,” you counter.

He visibly flinches, then his hand tightens on the door frame. “I’m not going to—to take it, I just want to hold it. Where’s my stuff?” he repeats.

“Holding it, right,” you sigh.

“It’s comforting,” he argues.

“Even if I believed that, it wouldn’t matter, Spencer. I threw it all out. There’s none here.”

The humming noise he makes is angry, and he rocks back and forth on his feet in an agitated manner. “You shouldn’t… I don’t….”

I don’t have the energy for this. It’s a thought you feel terrible about as soon as you have it, but it’s the truth. Lara had cautioned you before his first visit that he was going to be hypersensitive to disappointment and frustration until he learned how to cope with the feelings he’d been using the Dilaudid to block out. Unfortunately, the information, while useful, didn’t always make his emotional extremes easier to deal with.

You run a hand down your face. “Spencer…” you start. You’re not sure what to continue with, but you don’t have to—for whatever reason, that sets him off.

He tears his eyes away from the floor to glare at you. “Don’t—don’t touch my things ever again!” Then he turns and all but runs to the bedroom, slamming the door behind him.

You suck in a breath and drop your head to the counter. The marble is cool and you thump your forehead against it gently a few times, focusing on breathing in and out slowly to calm down. When you’re ready, you walk as quietly as you can to the bedroom door and press your ear against it to hear the unmistakable sound of Spencer sobbing into his pillow.

Part of you wants to go in and comfort him, but you suspect that you’d just make it worse right now since some of his frustration is directed at you. And truth be told, you’re frustrated with him, too. So you retreat to the living room, flopping down on the couch and pulling out your phone to call the restaurant to cancel your reservations. Doing so is more upsetting than you expected; a few tears of your own slide down your face after you hang up. Before you know it, you’re calling Tara.

“Hey, what’s up?” she asks you.

“I…” You swallow down the lump in your throat. “Spencer’s… we’re having a bad day. If you’re not busy, can I talk to you about it?”

“Of course,” is her gentle reply, and you pull yourself to your feet, moving to the farthest point away from the bedroom in the apartment so Spencer won’t overhear.

“He got angry when you told him you got rid of everything?” she guesses when you reach that part.

“Yeah. He told me that he doesn’t like it when I move his things. I already knew that; that’s why everything else is where he left it. I think he was mostly just caught off guard that I knew all his hiding places.”

“If he’s having a trauma response to seeing JJ, he’s not going to be thinking clearly, either,” Tara points out. “I wasn’t there, so I could be wrong, but from what you’ve said, it sounds like she was some sort of trigger for him.”

“That’s more than a fair assessment. It’s just… confusing,” you say. “He wasn’t like this with her when he first got home from prison. He actually spent a lot of time at JJ’s house before his relapse. He’d go over and hold Michael when he couldn’t sleep. Why is seeing his best friend suddenly such a bad thing?”

“I don’t know, but it doesn’t have to make sense to us. It only has to make sense to the traumatized part of the brain,” she explains. “He may not even know why himself.”

“Hmm.” You ponder it for a moment. “I think I’d find that interesting if I wasn’t living it.”

Tara laughs out loud at that. “Yeah, I’ve found that to be rather commonplace sentiment in the field of psychology.”

You take a deep breath and let it out slowly, feeling calmer. “Thanks for listening,” you say. “I feel better now.”

“Anytime, (Y/N).”

You exchange goodbyes, making plans to catch up properly over lunch next week. You hang up, then tiptoe back to the bedroom door. It’s quiet now; Spencer seems to have stopped crying. You knock softly. “Honey? Can I come in?”

When he doesn’t respond, you try the door handle. It’s unlocked, which is a good sign—he’s upset, but not upset enough to completely shut you out. You open the door just enough to look in.

Spencer’s on the bed as expected, huddled under his weighted blanket. His back is to the door and you see his shoulders shuddering in the little breaths that follow him crying. In your experience, he usually seeks out comfort before this stage, often having the breakdown itself in your arms or stumbling into them halfway through. This is a bit of uncharted territory. You know that after outbursts of negative emotions, he tends to need reassurance and touch from someone to help him decompress and feel better. You just don’t know if that’s going to hold true for this kind of reaction. A trauma response, Tara called it. You hope it will, because you don’t know what else to do.

“I’m going to come in now,” you tell him before taking a step inside. You leave the door open behind you so he won’t feel trapped, then slowly approach him, looking out for signs that he doesn’t want you near—tensing muscles, slight rocking, shaking his head—but he stays still.

Once you sit down on the edge of the bed you can see his face. His eyes are puffy and his cheeks are red and raw from wiping away tears. A few are still slipping out, sliding sideways down his face and dropping onto the wet patch on his pillowcase as he stares blankly at the wall across the room.

Hesitantly, you reach out and touch his arm as lightly as you can. He takes in a deep breath, but does nothing to suggest that he wants you to remove it. After a few moments to ensure that he’s okay with touch, you start running your hand up and down his back. He whimpers a little in response, closing his eyes and titling back into your touch.

“Are you okay?” you ask softly.

You don’t get a straightforward answer. He chews on his bottom lip for a bit before speaking in a scratchy voice. “Can you…?” he mumbles, lifting his head up slightly from the pillow, then dropping it back down. You don’t know what he’s asking for until you see some of his fingers poking out from under the blanket and the stroking motion they’re making.

You maneuver across the mattress to sit against the headboard, jostling him as little as you can, and he shifts to place his head in your lap. When you start carding your fingers through his hair, his eyes flutter closed and he lets out a little sigh.

“What’s going on?” you ask once the tension has faded and his body has settled fully into the mattress. He just shrugs and you press your lips together to hold back a sigh. You’re familiar with him going nonverbal and you know that he can’t help it, but it’s discouraging. One of the main things he’s been working on is being more open about his emotions. It’s been a welcome change to not have to pry things out of him. But he seems to have gone right back to old habits tonight and it’s… well, it’s disappointing.

The silence carries on for a long time as you continue to run your hands through his hair. He’s so still and relaxed that you think he may have fallen asleep until he takes in a deep, shuddering breath and clears his throat. “I… I want to go back,” he whispers.

“Back whe--” you start, then your heart drops as you realize what he means. “Oh.”

Your hands fall to your lap as he sits up and clambers out of bed, muttering, “gonna get changed.” He shuts the bathroom door behind him—for whatever reason, he’s not always comfortable with you seeing him changing or in the shower anymore—and you sit still for a few moments, processing what he just said. After over a month of listening to him express his desire to come home—begging you, even, in the beginning—you were unprepared to hear the opposite.

You shake your head slightly to try and clear it, then follow his lead, leaving the bed and changing out of your fancy clothes, trying not to think about how much you had been looking forward to wearing them to the restaurant.

Spencer remains quiet for the drive back to his treatment center, staring out the passenger side window, legs pulled into his chest. He mumbles a quick “bye” to you when you check him back in—no hug or kiss on the cheek like you’ve grown accustomed to. Instead he turns right back to the nurse and staff member running the process and asks, “Is Matt working tonight? I need to talk to him.”

At least he wants to talk to someone, you tell yourself as you leave, trying to soothe the sting caused by the fact that the someone isn’t you.

---

The next time you see him is six days later, on Friday evening. You’ve only talked once since Saturday, over the phone on Wednesday night, and it wasn’t a long call. He was upset about the horse therapy appointment being canceled that afternoon because of the weather—it had rained hard all day—and didn’t say much else. He ended the call before the ten minute mark, saying that he was tired and wanted to go lie down.

He also didn’t request a visit for the weekend—he either didn’t think his treatment team would approve it or he just didn’t want one. So you’re visiting him at the center today. You’ve brought dinner with you—you cooked one of his favorites yourself—but before you eat, you’re having an appointment with him and his therapist.

Spencer glances up only briefly when you enter the office, quickly looking back down. One of his knees is bouncing.

You sit down on the other side of the couch, looking between him and Lara in the chair across from you. “So, um, what’s going on?” you ask.

Spencer looks to Lara and she gives him an encouraging nod. He takes in a deep breath before speaking. “I… I wanted to talk to you about what ha—happened last week,” he says quietly, keeping his gaze on his lap.

You don’t know why exactly he wants to do it here, with his therapist, but wanting to talk about it at all is a good sign.. “Okay. I’m listening.”

“Right, um. Seeing… seeing JJ, it--” he stops abruptly, and his hands tremble slightly as he runs them down his thighs. “Sorry, doing… doing this is making me really anxious.”

“Take your time,” Lara says and you nod in agreement.

“Okay.” He runs his hands through his hair a few times before continuing. “Se—seeing her brought up emotions and, and memories I wasn’t ready to, um, confront. It… it really tri—triggered me.”

“Yeah, I could tell,” you say quietly.

Spencer grimaces at the words. He lifts his hand, puts it back down, then lifts it again and rubs at one of his eyes. “I…” he starts, then fixes his gaze on the floor and goes silent.

“(Y/N).” You tear your eyes from him and look at Lara. “Is there anything you’d like to say to Spencer about Saturday? Maybe what it was like for you?”

“Oh. Um.” You chew on your bottom lip for a moment. You’ve worried about how what you say could effect him since his relapse—one of your biggest fears is saying something that would drive him to use. But it’s stressful to keep up with, and with his therapist is probably the best place to start ridding yourself of your new habit of… well, of walking on eggshells around him.

“I think it would be good for him to know,” Lara says.

“Alright.” You lace your fingers together in your lap. “I guess it was just… startling to me. JJ’s your best friend and you’ve never acted that way to her. Or anyone, really, other than your father.”

Spencer stays silent, but flinches at the mention of his dad.

“Do you have anything to say to that?” Lara prompts. He shakes his head, so she looks back to you. “How did seeing Spencer like that make you feel?”

You take in a deep breath and let it out slowly; you’re a little scared to say, not wanting to make him feel worse. “It was… distressing. Especially when he got mad at me for getting rid of his Dilaudid. I know he doesn’t like having his things touched without permission but I don’t think it was reasonable to expect that I wouldn’t have done that.”

Lara nods. “That makes sense. But our feelings aren’t always logical.”

“Yeah, I understand. I guess I just wish he would have told me what was wrong instead of being silent--”

Spencer finally speaks up then, in protest. “I couldn’t help it!”

“I—I know that,” you argue back. “I just—I’m just telling you how I felt.”

He looks away, folding his arms and sinking further into the couch.

“Spencer,” Lara says gently. “You wanted to know how (Y/N) felt, remember? And we talked about how you were probably going to hear things you wouldn’t like.”

You blink, taken aback that this was his idea. And with that comes the realization of just how long it’s been since he’s asked how you’re feeling. Thinking back, you realize that the last time you had a conversation that wasn’t only focused on his feelings and well-being was the day you found him asleep and tied to his mother. This… it’s Spencer before prison.

You’re drawn out of your thoughts by him sighing and muttering, “Yeah, I remember.”

“Alright. Anything else?” Lara asks you.

There’s a lot else, you’re discovering, but you’re not sure you can unpack it all right now. “Maybe…” you say. “Maybe he could just tell me what I can do to help when he’s… triggered?”

“I don’t know,” he says dully, and when he catches the small frown on your face, insists, “I don’t.”

“Yet,” Lara adds.

He sighs again. “Yet,” he repeats.

“I know it’s frustrating,” she says. “Your solution to these kinds of feelings before was denial or using. A solution, not just a problem,” she emphasizes. “I want you both to try and think of it like that, and get comfortable with the fact that it’s going to take awhile to overcome those habits.”

A solution, not a problem. It’s… weird to think of his addiction that way, but you can try, so you give her a nod.

“Yeah, yeah,” Spencer mumbles. But behind the defensive body language, he just seems tired.

He seems to relax a little when the meeting wraps up and it’s only the two of you in one of the rooms used for visits. He remains quiet, but when you place the plate of food you dish him across the table from yours, he slides it back and sits in the chair beside you. “Sorry,” he whispers as soon as you take a bite of food.

“For what?” you ask once you’ve swallowed.

“For yelling at you on Saturday,” he says quietly. “I was upset but I shouldn’t have yelled.”

His leg is bouncing under the table; you put your hand on his knee to still it. “Apology accepted,” you say softly.

He shakes his head slightly. “You don’t have to. I was awful to you on Saturday.”

You frown at his skewed interpretation of events. “Spencer, you really weren’t. You yelled at me, yes, but other than that, you were fine.” And you’ve said much worse when you’ve been high.

“I ruined dinner. And don’t say it’s not a big deal,” he adds before you can speak. “You mentioned it every time we spoke in the week leading up to it. You were really excited about it, and I ruined it.”

Spencer’s read you like a book—that was exactly what you were going to say. “Yeah, I was really looking forward to it,” you admit. “And it sucked to have to cancel the reservations. But there will be other dinners, and it’s not like you did it on purpose.”

“But what if I did?” His voice is so quiet that you wouldn’t have heard him if he wasn’t right next to you.

“What do you mean?”

“I just mean…” he rocks slightly in his seat, which you immediately recognize as one of his self-soothing behaviors. You move your hand from his knee to his hair, lightly running your fingers through the curls covering the nape of his neck to try and help. His head tilts forward a little at your touch and after a brief silence, he continues. “I just mean that self-sabotage wouldn’t exactly be something new for me.”

“Oh.” You take your time considering it; he won’t believe you if you give in to your knee-jerk reaction to protest the negative feelings he harbors towards himself. But he grows agitated at your silence, rocking a bit harder and rubbing at his eye. You tug his hair lightly without really thinking about it in response.

“I’m just thinking,” you assure. “You deserve an honest, thought-out answer.”

After taking a deep breath, he nods. “Okay. I understand. Maybe you could just, uh… to help c--comfort…” He swallows and his voice drops back to a whisper. “Could you do that again?”

“Do what?”

“Um, pull… pull my hair. You did that a few moments ago. Please?”

You almost want to tease him—a year ago, you would have. But he’s been so timid and unsure when asking for any intimate touch other than cuddling since he got back from prison. You don’t want to discourage him from asking any more than he seems to be discouraging himself.

“Of course, baby,” you answer softly, and do just that. He closes his eyes and drops his head onto your shoulder. “As far as the self-sabotaging goes, you’re… not good at lying to me,” you muse. “And after six years with you, I feel like I’m pretty familiar with all the ways Spencer Reid self-sabotages. This never even crossed my mind until you brought it up, so I don’t see that as being what happened.”

You can’t tell if he believes you. A neutral “okay” is all you get from him, but at least he’s not outright disagreeing.

You gently pull his hair a few more times. “You should eat before it gets cold and we have to heat it up again.”

He takes the suggestion, picking his fork up, but you’ve never seen him less enthused about eating one of his favorite foods. He’s only cleared half of his plate when you’re done with all of yours.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

You can’t help but sigh at the habitual response, and consider your next words carefully. “Spencer, I don’t mean to be pushy, but you told me you were working on not dismissing people’s concern for you when they express it.”

“I am,” he mutters, but doesn’t say anything else, just continues to push his food around his plate aimlessly.

“Well, is something wrong with the food?” you ask. “Did I get the texture wrong, or--”

“No, no,” he interrupts, shaking his head. “It’s not the food. The food’s great. It’s… it’s me that’s the problem.”

Your eyebrows come together. “I don’t understand.”

“I…” He starts to blush. “I’m not eating it all because I think I need to lose some weight.”

“Don’t you dare,” you say immediately without thinking. He makes a startled noise at the same time you clap your hand over your mouth. You definitely don’t want him to lose weight, you just hadn’t meant for it to come out like that.

On the day he came home and agreed to treatment, you’d seen just how underweight he’d become as you helped him unbutton his shirt. The stark outline of his ribs against his skin had been scary, and you had no desire to see that again. It was a relief when he started to gain back what he’d lost in prison and afterwards. And you were happy to see him continue to put on even more than that.

You clear your throat. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to say it like that. You were just so skinny when you got here. You look good like this.”

“I’ve never weighed this much before,” he says, and the distress in his tone makes you think that this is a fact that has been bothering him for a while. “Some of my clothes are getting too tight.”

“We can buy you new clothes.”

“But we don’t know how much longer the insurance will cover my stay here. Residential treatment is expensive. We don’t need to be spending extra money on clothes when I could just lose the weight instead and not need them.”

“Hey.” You put your hand on his cheek. “I don’t want you to worry about money. The insurance is covering it for now. If they stop, that’s a problem to deal with when we get there. Just focus on getting better.”

He looks away from you, down to his lap. “I should still lose some weight,” he says eventually.

“Have you medical staff told you that?” you inquire, raising an eyebrow.

“No,” he admits with a sigh.

“Then you’re not allowed to worry about it,” you say firmly. “Finish your dinner.”

Spencer hesitates, but picks his fork back up. The corners of his mouth turn up just slightly when he starts eating again, telling you that despite his fretting, he’s happy not to stop himself from eating as much as he wants.

He seems to be in a much better mood at the end of the evening than he was when you arrived, though a bit more subdued and quieter than normal. He also appears to be very tired. It’s only 7:30 but he keeps yawning. He denies dozing off with his head on your shoulder while you were talking after dinner, but you’re sure he did.

During your parting hug, he nestles his face into your neck just like he always does when you’re sleeping in bed together. “Try and get some good sleep tonight,” you encourage, smoothing your hands down his back. “And Spencer?”

He pulls back to look at you and you settle your hands lightly on his waist. “I meant it, you know.” You squeeze slightly. “When I said you look good like this.”

It takes him a few moments to catch onto what you’re implying; when he does, his eyebrows shoot up and his breath catches. “Oh. O—okay. I’ll, um…” he glances down shyly. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“You better.” You look over your shoulder as you leave, and the small smile he’s wearing prompts one of your own.

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

tell me what you thought here!

i'd like to put it out there that i don’t hate jj and i really hope it didn’t come across like that. i hadn’t even planned that scene; it just wrote itself. i promise it’ll be resolved before the end of this fic.

another shoutout to the book The Body Keeps the Score for helping immensely with the planning and writing of this. i literally have pages of notes from it.

you can also find irl pictures of spencer’s therapy horse here.

all we can do taglist: @thatsonezesty13 , @jhillio , @elitereid

general taglist: @calm-and-doctor

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds self insert #spencer reid #angst #my fic #tw substances #one day i'll write something that's short

78 notes · View notes

transthaumaturge · 4 years

Text

Squirrel Girl is Super Gay for her Roommate and I Want Everyone to Know

A gay infodump of sensible length by Rachel Tikvah

ALRIGHT, SO The Unbeatable Squirrel Girl was the very first comic that I ever read regularly, back when I was looking for more stories with strong female protagonists but didn't really know why. Back then I just thought I really liked strong female characters and not that I was being gay on main, but now I know the truth. The comic had a 5-year run, and it was the first time that Squirrel Girl, AKA Doreen Green, had had her own series. She had a brief run in the mid-2000's where she was established as someone who could beat up Thanos with her bare hands well, more like squirrel hands but was mostly a joke character that happened to be incredibly buff and had indestructible plot armor. USG decided that Doreen's next major life goal would be to enroll in college to become a computer scientist, because her writer, Ryan North, is really into computer science and they basically gave him free rein over Squirrel Girl canon for five whole years. Like, a solid third of the plots are solved with some kind of computer science smarts. It’s really cool. Anyway this is Doreen in one of the gayest solo pictures I could find of her on short notice, which is also one of the variant covers from the actual series:

And this is her college roommate, Nancy Whitehead:

I'm like, 99% certain that Ryan North intended for them to end up as a couple and Disney!Marvel told him no. So he decided to make them AS GAY FOR EACH OTHER AS POSSIBLE without explicitly saying that they were a couple, and it ended up going under the radar. What follows is evidence for that claim. I’m going to put a "read more” after this so it doesn’t clutter everyone’s dashboards, but please read on if you’re interested. There’s a lot of cute gayness after this point. I’m also going to put all of the image descriptions at the end, since they take up a lot of space and I don’t want to break up the flow of the post. Finally, a quick spoiler alert for one arc in the middle of the series and a couple major plot points from the final few issues.

AND THEY WERE ROOMMATES

So for a while it was just kind of hinted at that they’re in a relationship, mostly because they were basically domestic life partners for like, two whole years in-universe before the comic run ended. But it really came to a head with an arc that was ran about 2/3 of the way through the series. Some pictures of them being, like, so cute together in general and/or talking about how much they care about each other before I get to that arc, though:

Also Doreen describes her and Nancy's cat as "co-parented" in one of the last issues:

ANYWAY, THE ARC. THE HYPERTIME ARC. So one of the villains created for the Squirrel Girl run (I think they liked making weird shit canon just because they could) was a dude who went by the name "EpicCrimez". He’s a crime streamer. He livestreams his crimes to an online audience. I don't know. *Throws up hands*

He had some kind of laser gun that he built out of scavenged alien tech but didn't really know what it did, so he shot it at Doreen and Nancy for kicks. It shot them into hypertime, so suddenly the rest of the world was moving at a fraction of the pace that they were. They were moving so quickly that they were slated to live out their entire lives over the span of a single weekend if they didn't figure out how to reverse the effects. And...they did. Live out their entire lives together. For the two of them, they were the only two people in the world. There were other people, but they looked like statues unless you spent a very long time observing them. Doreen and Nancy grew old together in a world where they only had each other. This is an incredibly cute domestic scene from a little while after they found themselves in hypertime:

Gosh, I wish I could find more official art from that arc of them just living together, it was so good. But the point is, they were both old by the time that Nancy figured out how to get them out of hypertime. And it wasn't ideal. Their bio signatures were stored in the gun that EpicCrimez shot, and they could essentially "reboot" their bodies from when they were first shot and send themselves back into the regular timestream. But they wouldn't remember anything about the life that they had shared together. Nancy almost didn't want to do it. She raised the possibility of them just living out the rest of their lives together, because she didn't want to forget their life together. This is the conversation they had:

"I don't regret any of it. I don't want to lose it, and I don't want to lose us." "You're not getting rid of me that easily." Every time I look at that last picture, which took up an entire page of the comic, I start to cry. We’re seeing the final moments of two people who love each other more than anything, who were each other's entire lives, savoring their last moments together and wondering what the future holds. Sacrificing the life that they built together so that their younger selves could live a better, fuller one. Dying in each other’s arms, scared but comforted by the fact that they had each other. And then the arc ends, and they can't remember anything, so the status quo is restored. They have some paintings they made of each other while they were living together in hypertime, but they move on pretty quickly without ever knowing the significance of those lived decades. Still, it's clear in the arcs that follow and the adventures they embarked on afterward that they would die for each other. All of that continues until the end of the last arc. Their shared apartment's been blown up at this point by a supervillain who wanted to ruin Doreen’s life before eventually killing her. And in the aftermath of the fight, they're sifting through the wreckage for anything that survived (don't worry, the cat got out in time) when they find the picture that they painted of themselves during the hypertime arc:

They have a really cute conversation about how this chapter of their life is over, but they're going to be okay and they're going to build a new life together. And then Nancy basically tells Doreen that she can't live without her:

And then Doreen says something super queer-coded about how she likes the idea of the world knowing her secret identity now:

On the very last page of the comic, after all of the action is over and the series is about to end, they're talking to each other in what's supposed to be a twitter thread and Doreen asks Nancy a very thinly veiled question about whether she still wants to spend time with her now that her identity's out. She pretends it's about a class project, but it's really not about the class project. Here's how that conversation goes:

With no knowledge of what happened during the weekend when they shared their entire lives together, without ever having heard Doreen say it to her before, Nancy’s heart still knows which words to choose. "...you're not getting rid of me that easily. <3" I believe that the author of the series, Ryan North, did as much as he possibly could to portray them as a couple without saying it outright. And as the last piece of evidence to support that claim, I want to share a response he wrote in one of the series' last-ever letter columns:

"as for more Doreen and Nancy, I hope so too. A Squirrel Girl book without Nancy would feel like--like--like some sort of hypothetical "Super" "Man" book without an equally hypothetical "Lois" "Lane"!" It's easy to write off this analysis as wishful thinking, or as a misreading of the subtext. But when the author of the series says that these two characters are meant to always be together and compares them to one of the most famous couples in any comic series ever, it's clear that there's more to it than that.

Some Additional Thoughts: 1) Doreen and Nancy are both probably bisexual or pansexual, since they both expressed romantic interest in men throughout the series but they’re both clearly interested in each other too. There might be an element of demiromanticism there as well if part of the reason that they’re into each other romantically is because of how emotionally close they’ve become over the years. I want to make sure that that facet of their romantic orientations doesn’t get erased, because bi and pan folks get erased enough as it is. Neither Doreen nor Nancy are lesbians, just super-cool WLWs.

2) HERE’S WHAT THE ISSUE 50 VARIANT COVER LOOKED LIKE

That’s NOT a fun, totally straight way to pose with your platonic gal pal. They’re so incredibly cute together! I have no words! In Closing If you got this far, thank you so much for letting me talk to you about a comic that’s very important to me, and a couple in that comic that I care about very much. I spent way too long making this (six hours and counting), mostly in writing the image descriptions, and I’m very proud of my work but very tired now. Hyperfixation is a hell of a drug. If this resonated with you, please consider reblogging it so that more folks can see it. If not, even a like is nice. I’d also love to engage with people who have their own thoughts, so feel free to leave some comments in the notes if you’ve got an idea/a reaction/any additional cute Doreen/Nancy scenes that you’d like to share with me. At any rate, this post has gone on long enough and I don’t want to ask y’all to read any more than you have to. So have a great day, good morning / afternoon / night, and stay safe. Thanks again for reading! ~Rachel Tikvah, AKA @transthaumaturge Image Descriptions: Image 1: [ID: Squirrel Girl, a young woman with light skin, is posing in front of a brick wall that she seems to have crashed through, leaving a perfect outline of her body. She’s facing away but looking backwards over her shoulder at us and smiling. She’s flexing upward with her right arm and has her left fist resting on her left hip. Her sidekick, a squirrel named Tippy-Toe, is standing in the cutout she left in the wall and is making the same exact pose while wearing a light pink bow around her neck. Squirrel Girl is wearing brown lace-up boots, fur-lined hot pants over grey tights, and a brown fur-lined jacket with sleeves that come up to her forearms and a symbol of an acorn embroidered into the back. She’s also wearing a hairband with fake squirrel ears on it over short reddish-brown hair. She has a large squirrel tail coming out of her hot pants that sweeps down in a curve behind her lower legs. The illustration is drawn so that everything is bathed in the light of a sunset, and Doreen is casting shadows on the wall in front of her.] Image 2: [ID: Two frames depicting a scene between Doreen and Nancy in their college dorm room, with many cardboard boxes still not unpacked and sitting on a bare bed mattress. Nancy Whitehead is a young woman with dark brown skin and short, curly black hair. She's wearing black tights, a white dress-top, and a yellow cardigan over that. Her arms are crossed as she holds her white cat, Mew, against her chest. Doreen is wearing grey tights and a black long-sleeve shirt with a wide collar and white stripes across the chest. She's holding Tippy-Toe up to Nancy with both hands so she can see her better. The following dialogue ensues: Nancy: "A squirrel? But weren't you the one who was all about pets not being allowed in--" Doreen: "Yeah, I know. But this really interesting person I met today told me that obeying an unjust law is itself unjust." Nancy: "...You know, I was worried I'd get a weird roommate, but you're all right, Doreen Green."] Image 3: [ID: Doreen and Nancy are both sitting on a lavender-pink couch in nightclothes. Doreen has short, orange hair. She is wearing a loose-fitting grey long-sleeve shirt and steel-blue cutoff shorts; Nancy has cropped black hair. She is wearing a dark purple top with sleeves that come down to her upper arms, and loose-fitting navy-blue shorts that come down to her lower thighs. Doreen is side-hugging Nancy as she says, with an ecstatically happy smile, “Nancy, you’re the greatest. You know that, right?” Nancy gives Doreen a full smile as she responds, “I’d always suspected it, but it is nice to have it confirmed.”] Image 4: [ID: Nancy is shown from the shoulders up. She has short, curly black hair. She’s wearing large, disc-shaped gold dangle earrings, and a red jacket with prominent shoulders and a yellow collar. She’s fixing the observer with an angry, determined stare as she says, “She knows this man wouldn’t dream about betraying her, or he’d have to answer to me.”] Image 5: [ID: Doreen and Nancy are eating breakfast at the brown, circular kitchen table in their apartment. Doreen’s wearing a skin-tight athletic crop top that’s striped in black, red, white, and blue. Her arm muscles are well-defined and clearly visible as she puts a spoon in her mouth, closing her eyes as she does so. She has a bowl of cereal in front of her, and half a banana in front of that. Nancy is sitting to her left in a pink camisole top that’s also exposing her muscles, scrolling through something on her smartphone. Her hair is in a yellow fabric wrap that’s knotted on one side of her head. A cup of coffee sits in front of her. The clear blue sky is visible through the window centered on the wall behind them.] Image 6: [ID: Nancy and Doreen are facing away from the vantage point, walking towards an Empire State University campus building and holding hands with their fingers intertwined. Nancy is wearing a long knee-length grey coat and black knee-high boots, with a baby-blue side bag hanging from her left shoulder. Doreen is wearing a magenta sweatshirt with the periwinkle-lined hood down, light brown form-fitting denim pants, and black ankle-high boots, with a dark brown side bag hanging from her right shoulder. Trees and bushes hem the walkway in on either side. The building in front of them is dark red, with glass doors and a row of floor-to-ceiling windows on the second floor. Doreen is saying “...we’re just going to have to take the long way around.”] Image 7: [ID: Doreen is facing towards the vantage point and is visible from the legs up, standing in front of a pile of rubble in the background. She’s wearing high-waisted light blue shorts over black tights, and a red windbreaker with sleeves ending at her upper arms that’s opened to reveal a white t-shirt underneath. Tippy-Toe is sitting on her shoulder. There are two people facing Doreen, each slightly in frame and silhouetted in black against the light of the setting sun. Doreen is fixing them with an angry, determined expression, resting her right fist at her hip while she gesticulates with her left hand and says, “So! I don’t know about you all, but Melissa kidnapping my friend and blowing up my life and my house and almost blowing up my co-parented cat makes me feel like giving her a piece of my mind. Friends...”] Image 8: [ID: A full comic page. EpicCrimez is looking like a dork in a green and black skin-tight jumpsuit, bright red ski goggles, and a green wig cap with his brown hair sticking out the back in a mullet. He’s standing inside a jewelry store and holding up a fist of expensive gems and pearls-on-strings as holds up his smartphone and speaks into it. He’s facing off against Squirrel Girl, with her allies Koi Boi and Chipmunk Hunk on her right, and Nancy and Brain Drain on the left. The following scene ensues: EpicCrimez: “And for those of you just tuning in, welcome to another successful heist by your boy EpicCrimez, streaming live! Now with 10% more live crime action than any other streamer! Don’t forget to like and subscribe!! I know some of you in EpicCrimez Nation have been forgetting to do that lately. Not acceptable.” Squirrel Girl: “You picked the wrong small business to rob, crime-initiator! Because this mall is protected by super heroes.” Brain Drain: “HELLO” SG: “And also an unrelated civilian friend I brought along too!” Nancy: (Not looking up from her phone) “ ‘Sup.” EC: “Check it out--Squirrel Girl and her miscellaneous friends are here! It’s action you won’t find on any other channel!” SG: “Are you...streaming your robberies?” (Nancy pockets her phone) EC: “Yeah I am! For money reasons! And with you “heroes” in it, I’ll make even more!” SG: (Whispering to Nancy:) “Question: a fight scene just gets him more traffic, which lets him profit from this crime even more--so does this mean we don’t fight him?” N: (Whispering back:) “I feel like letting him go causes more harm, but I look forward to us teasing apart the moral implications of this later.” SG: “Nice.” SG: (No longer whispering:) “I’ll like and subscribe, EpicCrimez! I’ll like fighting crime, and subscribe... to a worldview wherein the strong protect the weak!” EC: “Oh my gosh, are you like wholesome Spider-Man or something??” At the bottom of the page, small text says: “Wholesome Spider-Man, Wholesome Spider-Man/Does whatever a wholesome spider can/Is he tough?/Listen bud/He’s here to hear you talk about your day and tell you it’ll all be fine while taking you out for your favorite meal for dinner because he knows you deserve it.”] Image 9: [ID: Another full comic page. Doreen and Nancy are in their apartment together, and their friends Tomas and Brian (AKA Chipmunk Hunk and Brain Drain respectively) are frozen as they look down at the machine that Nancy is on her knees in front of, working on. Nancy, barefoot, is wearing cerulean-blue athletic pants, a black long-sleeve spandex shirt without shoulders, and narrow-framed glasses. Her hair is partially covered by a yellow cloth head wrap tied on the left side, with black dreadlocks spilling out the side and back. The machine in front of her is made of dull grey metal, about a meter tall and roughly circular. Wires dangle out of a hatch that Nancy is fiddling with. Doreen is wearing a flowing, dark-purple pantsuit with wide, ankle-length legs and a halter top with the sleeves tied off at her shoulders. Her shoes are light-brown ankle boots with a horizontal gap on the bridge of each foot. Her wavy orange hair is parted in the middle and down past her shoulders. She looks incredibly cute. The following scene ensues: Doreen: “What do you think?” Nancy: “I think--come on you stupid screw--I think we’re still years away from this thing working, if it ever does. Who knew time machine construction is really hard, except of course for everyone who has attempted it?” (She wipes her forehead with the back of her hand) D: “Hah! No, I mean my new outfit.” N: (Looking up and checking her gf out:) “Doreen! You look amazing!!” D: “Liberated it from a very expensive department store uptown!” N: (Now standing) “Tony paid for it?” D: Tony will eventually discover he was kind enough to leave some expensive jewelry in trade, yes. I pinned a note to him so he knows.” N: “There really are advantages to being friends with billionaire playboy genius philanthropists.” D: “Right?!” N: (Taking Doreen’s hands in hers:) “It’s a shame we can’t take a picture of you all dolled up.” D: “Not without standing still for a few months, yeah. But I was thinking about that. I picked up something else at another store downtown. Thought maybe it could help us with that.” (Holding up a shopping bag with one hand while still holding onto Nancy’s hand with the other:) “Nancy Whitehead, I thought you and I might take up painting sometime.” At the bottom of the page, small text says: “Tony Stark moves from meeting to meeting, his body accumulating dozens of notes every second. He sighs. Stuff like this didn’t happen before he knew Doreen. But then he smiles, because after all...stuff like this didn’t happen before he knew Doreen.”] Images 10-16: [ID: Several pages worth of comic frames, posted together to depict one scene. Doreen and Nancy are now old women, likely in their seventies or eighties. Doreen has short, grey hair. She’s wearing a tan button-up waistcoat and an orange ascot, brown flats with an olive-green skirt, knee-length and softly pleated. Her tail is sticking out the back of her skirt over the top, bushy and brown but with stiffer, less-dense hair. Nancy has her grey-black hair done up in a ponytail, a mass of tight curls behind her head. She’s wearing thin oval glasses, black dress pants, black flats, and a lavender cardigan with a flower motif along the edges, open to show the yellow-orange top underneath. They’re standing in front of a completed time machine. On either side are tall pieces of machinery, and in the middle is a round, flat metal dais hooked up to everything else with snaking cables. The following scene ensues: Nancy: “So...this is it, babe. The new machine.” Doreen: “Your secret project! Nancy, it looks like you started from scratch!” N: That’s because I did. I finally realized our old machine was never going to work. Maybe if we had a few more decades, but...there’s no time. And given that our backs are to the wall, I took a risk. I disassembled the gun right down to the metal, and examined all the parts. And I did find something: a data chip. Doreen, the gun stored our bio signatures when it us.” D: “What are you saying?” N: “I’m saying my new machine won’t send us back in time, and we’ll still have lost a weekend of real time. But it will restore our bodies to normal time.” D: (Hugging Nancy tight:) “Nancy! You saved us!!” N: (Resting her hands on Doreen’s shoulders:) “Not--quite. There’s a catch, Doreen. Our bodies will make it...but we won’t. Look, Doreen...I’m an old woman. I’ve spent most of my life in hypertime. This wasn’t how I saw my life going, but...I don’t regret any of it. I don’t want to lose it, and I don’t want to lose us.” D: “I don’t understand.” N: “It’s like restoring from backup. Our bodies will be restored to how they were the moment we were first hit. But--that necessarily includes our brains, too. Everything we’ve done since we entered hypertime--our entire lives spent together...we’ll forget.” (She looks at Doreen in distress) D: “I don’t either, Nancy. You’ve been the most important person in my life. But if we do go back--we can do it again. All of it. It might not happen again quite the same way, but--well, like you say...we’ll have all the time in the world.” N: (Their faces inches apart, they both tilt their heads down and smile sadly:) “Twist my arm, why don’t you.” (They both step onto the dais holding hands, and blue energy starts to ripple around them:) “You filled up Spidey’s web-shooters before we go?” D: “Yep. Again.” N: “You and me, saving the world.” D: “Well,” (holding Nancy’s hand in both of her own) "No reason we can’t do it twice.” N: “You know, there’s a chance things could turn out differently, now that we’ll have video games to distract us. In 40 years we might decide we don’t like hanging out after all.” D: (Hugging Nancy even tighter than before as the energy from the time machine starts to envelop them, resting her face in the nape of Nancy’s neck:) “Nah. You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”] Image 17: [ID: Doreen and Nancy are sifting through the charred rubble of their apartment as night starts to fall around them. Doreen is wearing faded blue jeans and a navy blue t-shirt with a Captain America star in the middle. Over top of the shirt, she’s wearing a dark reddish-brown leather vest with four metal studs at the four points of the folded-out collar. Nancy is wearing black tights and a light green long-sleeve shirt with olive-green sleeves. The front of the shirt has a picture of Cat-Thor, Cat God of Cat Thunder’s head on it. The following scene ensues: Doreen: “So I know we’re only a few hours into it, Nancy, but I think my identity being public isn’t gonna be as bad as I thought.” Nancy: “Oh?” D: “Yeah, Tony’s given me lots of tips, and it does honestly help to know that my parents are protected by a robot tree with laser eyes and my friends live in a city with the most super heroes per square mile.” N: “Most super villains too, but--Hold on. I think I found it.” (Nancy lifts a picture frame out of the wreckage, charred around the edges but otherwise no worse for wear. It has a painting inside of it of Doreen and Nancy, arm-in-arm, from hypertime. Doreen is wearing the lavender pantsuit from before, and Nancy is wearing a tight-fitting lilac dress.) “...And it looks like you and I made it through just fine.”] Images 18-19: [ID: Two later comic panels from the same scene. They’re wearing the same outfits, but Nancy’s now cradling her white cat, Mew, in the crook of her left arm while she holds onto the picture frame with her right hand. The following scene ensues: Doreen: “Come on, let’s talk about it! If we’re starting a new chapter in our lives, and we can decide what’s in it, what do you want it to contain?” Nancy: “Doreen...” D: “What are the three things you can’t live without, Nancy Whitehead?” N: (Holding up the picture so that Doreen can see it:) “Fine. If you must know, all this girl needs to be happy are cats and squirrels and knitting and computers and friends and secret tattoos and super heroes and lots and lots of love. Also food and shelter. And water. And internet.” D: “That’s more than three things.”] Image 20: [ID: Same scene as before, a single frame with a close-up on Doreen from her chest upwards. Doreen cups her chin with one of her hands and says, “Honestly--I thought about it. I really did. But I realized that where I am now, I’m safe and I’m loved and I kinda like the idea of not having to lie to people anymore, you know? Even if it is just a lie of omission. I want to share my whole self with the world. I don’t want to have to hide who I am anymore.”] Image 21: [ID: Something resembling a twitter thread, with dialogue between Nancy and Doreen stacked chronologically as horizontal boxes. Their respective names and handles are at the top of each of their comments. Nancy is Nancy W. and @sewwiththeflo, Doreen is Squirrel Girl and @unbeatablesg. The following conversation ensues: Nancy: “You think I’d leave you high and dry??” Doreen: “I think I don’t want our lateness harming your grades and therefore harming your post-secondary education or career choices and therefore harming your ENTIRE LIFE?!” “So yeah I think you should switch to someone else, real talk. I honestly don’t mind, I promise.” Nancy: “Please. If there’s one thing I know about you, about me, and about how we spend our future together, it’s this. Doreen Green...” “...you’re not getting rid of me that easily. <3″] Image 22: [ID: A paragraph of text, black text on a yellow background. “As for more Doreen and Nancy, I hope so too. A Squirrel Girl book without Nancy would feel like--like--like some sort of hypothetical “Super” “Man” book without an equally hypothetical “Lois” “Lane”!”] Image 23: [ID: A group picture of Squirrel Girl and friends sitting down on a grassy hill and watching the sunset together. Kraven the Hunter is in the foreground for some reason, looking almost directly at the camera. In the background we see Koi Boi, Mary Mahajan, Chipmunk Hunk, Brain Drain, and Mew the Cat. In the middle of the shot, Doreen and Nancy sit together. Doreen is in her superhero outfit with Tippy-Toe on her right shoulder, and Nancy is in a yellow cardigan and jeans on Doreen’s left. They’re holding hands, fingers intertwined, as Nancy leans against Doreen with her whole body. Their heads are tilted inward towards each other, the side of Doreen’s head touching the side of Nancy’s, as they look off into the distance together.]

#the unbeatable squirrel girl #squirrel girl x nancy #squancy #squirrel girl #nancy whitehead #queer comics #WLW comics #long post #described #squirrel girl spoilers #thaumaturgethoughts

321 notes · View notes

ltleflrt · 3 years

Note

I would love some more mean advice, I'm taking notes because this is a goldmine

lol honestly, the advice about not starting a fic with Life Story Infodump or Daily Grind Infodump is the most important thing I can think of. Since nearly all of the times I back out of a fic, it’s because of one of those two things. Just about everything else I can think of is pretty minor and won’t make me quit reading. But here’s a few things I think might be helpful just for giving a story some extra shine.

1. Minute detail of a process is rarely necessary. Gloss over how something works unless the details have something to do with plot. For instance, if Dean is making tacos for dinner, just say Dean gets to work preparing tacos. Don’t talk about warming up the shells, or browning the meat, or slicing the veggies. Unless it’s plot related. If Dean makes checklists and crosses things off to soothe anxiety, then those details are important, but make it clear that he’s self-soothing. Or if Cas is allergic to onions, bring up that Dean sauteed them and added them to the meat, because Dean LOVES onions, and it didn’t occur to him to check if Cas has allergies before he started cooking, and they can’t be picked out, and oops the date ends with Dean rushing Cas to the ER, etc. Otherwise, just say Dean had an hour left till Cas showed up for dinner, so he hurried to prepare all the taco fixings, and it took too little time so now he had to figure out how to occupy himself till the doorbell rang.

(btw, I would LOVE more first date ending up in the ER stories, everyone who reads this is free to adopt that idea lol)

2. Please don’t write an entire story in 1-2 sentence paragraphs. This is rare, but it’s an almost instant nope out for me. There’s this one story that I reeeeeally want to read, because it’s right up my alley, and other than the short paragraph issue, it’s well written so I keep trying but getting stuck. I’m gonna have to copy it into a doc and edit the paragraphs and squish some stuff together to make it legible to my brain. Like there’s a long stretch in the first chapter where every sentence is its own paragraph, and just.... why. When you’re putting a paragraph break, there’s a mental pause happening in the reader’s mind. And too many short paragraphs in a row makes it more like a really long poem rather than a typical story you’d read in a book. A lot of advice says to not attack your readers with a wall of text (WALL OF TEXT CRITS YOU FOR OVER 9000!!!) and to break things up, but the opposite is also true. Too many super short paragraphs is like Damage Over Time (THROW MORE DOTS, MORE DOTS!) and either one of those will defeat your reader’s interest. Short paragraphs are a very useful tool, I use them myself for emphasis, but it can’t be your whole story. Try to limit it to no more than 3 in a row. If you’re going past that, take a minute to read those sentences and see if they’re related to each other. Squish them into a single paragraph if they are. Varying your paragraph length IS an art form. Like writing music. Paragraphs build a cadence, and staccato cannot sustain a whole song. This can be mitigated by creating long compound sentences though, so keep in mind that the length of the sentence, which should vary, can make a paragraph feel longer, even if it is only 1 or 2 sentences.

(haha she gives advice on how to break up paragraphs while critting you with a wall of text! good job, Carebear.)

3. The art of breaking up dialogue is just as delicate as the art of paragraph construction. Too much back and forth without breaking it up with an action or an internal thought can make it confusing who is talking. The rule of 3 comes in handy here too. After 3 back and forths, put in something non-dialogue. So it would go Character A says thing, Character B says Thing, Character A says thing, add some action/internal thoughts. And just a he/she/they said tag isn’t enough. IT IS BETTER THAN NOTHING, and depending on the cadence of the conversation it’s the right tool.�� But adding some physical movement or a stray thought would be better. That being said, don’t put too much action/thought between sections of dialogue. If you put too much info in there, it can make your reader forget that there’s even a conversation going on, and they’ll get to the next piece of dialogue and be like wtf is this pertaining to again? and they’ll have to scroll back to the last line of dialogue to remember what was last said. Remember, thoughts fly at the speed of light, so if you’re pausing the dialogue for some internal character thought, it’s happening in a matter of seconds, but your reader needs minutes to read and parse what’s going on. Again, rule of 3, try not to do more than 3 paragraphs between dialogues. And if you’re still not sure, or you feel like you need more so you keep going, read out loud from the last dialogue through the next dialogue and it’ll give you an idea of just how much time is physically passing for your readers, and you’ll start to feel the true size of things.

(WRITE ALL THAT STUFF DOWN THO. If you need to get it out, then by all means, get it out. It’s your first draft, and it’s important for YOU, even if a lot of it isn’t important for the reader. Trim it in the edit. FOR THE LOVE OF THE GODS, TRIM IT IN THE EDIT.)

(And the rule of 3 is a guideline, not a rule. It’s just a good measuring tool that you can use until you’re comfortable enough to eyeball things on your own.)

Anyway, those are the only things that come to mind while I’m calm and not in a frothing rage over writing errors that are not mine to correct. I feel like a huge asshole for vague-bitching about other people’s writing, and I profusely apologize for anyone’s hurt feelings if they read this advice and realize this might apply to something they’ve done. PLEASE KEEP WRITING, DON’T LET MY WHINGING DISCOURAGE YOU, I LOVE YOU.

#ltleramblings #writing advice #writer's angst #darmysasagiri

34 notes · View notes

hollowknightheadcanons · 3 years

Note

tell me everything you think about lemm i will sit here and give you my money

You have no idea what you just unleashed I’m typing this in NOTES right now so that my phone doesn’t crash and I lose it all.

Okay so all of you probably know by now how much I love Lemm. There are a lot of Lemm quotes on my other blog, my icon literally everywhere is Lemm, and I have expressed how much I love him numerous times. Along with Mato, he’s my favorite character.

Even though he’s mean, as soon as he starts infodumping it’s like youre his best friend now, and then immediately he goes back to being mean. In all my writing and post/late game headcanons he does warm up to Ghost and the others because he’s going to be their friend whether he likes it or not.

My friend Thunder and I were talking a lot about this one concept of Ghost taking Lemm on a tour of Hallownest because literally if he took a walk outside of his shop he could learn so much. I guess that’s why he’s a “relic seeker” and not just a “historian”. But I’m sure he’d appreciate seeing Hallownest’s history without having to brave the husks and beasts that swarm the kingdom. I was going to write something about it but I lost inspiration :( it works better as a set of comics anyway, I may draw them one day.

Ghost first tries to take him into the sewers to meet Ogrim and he’s like “NO WAY ABSOLUTELY NOT I AM NOT STEPPING FOOT IN THERE.” My friend did draw art of Ghost taking Lemm into the sewers but they didn’t post it, and I won’t repost the art without permission.

You ever think about how he implies that he has seen the palace ruins? When the only way there before Ghost opens up the stag station is a long drop down an elevator shaft? Either he found another way or he actually went down that drop despite not wanting to deal with all the husks to see the statue at the city gate... or he was just told of it by another traveler.

To continue the “Hallownest Tour”, Ghost takes Lemm to the Queen’s Gardens and he finds out the LITERAL QUEEN OF HALLOWNEST IS THERE and has to sit down for a bit. And if they are going to see EVERY one of the great knights, Ghost is going to have to carry Lemm over the acid to see Isma.

Lemm is one of the characters I like writing the most, even though he’s only appeared in one chapter of my works ever. The other character I like to write for is Grimmchild. But the fic where he did appear is the first chapter of my most viewed fic so I’m glad that people get to read the one chapter he’s in. He’s going to show up again eventually, but not yet. I really want to write more with him, but I’m out of ideas. I always want to write Hollow Knight stuff, I just need IDEAS.

It’s not actually possible to happen in the game but I think it would be really funny if you could get the Hornet cutscene and Lemm standing by the statue at the same time. I wish it was possible.

My friend, the one I mentioned earlier (Thunder) and I were again talking about him, this time about how he deals with his beard and how he doesn’t trip over it constantly. Or about how he walks OUTSIDE in the RAIN with it trailing on the GROUND. Why does he do that.

Now for a funny story! During one of my room randomizer runs, I was looking everywhere for Lemm. I couldn’t find the place to drop down and unlock the lever. I spent hours searching. Later, I got the Kingsoul and opened the way to the Birthplace. And there he was. I had FINALLY found him.

I would write more but I need to eat dinner now. If anyone else wants to talk about Lemm some more, please send asks! I love him.

#mikatis #relic seeker lemm #long post

19 notes · View notes

heloflor · 3 years

Text

As Time Passes Prologue : The Estate

AO3 link

People never choose where they were born.

Balthazar was said to be lucky. He was a prince ! He had all the fame ! All the recognition ! All the things he could ever dream of !

Deep down, he knew it was all fake.

This life felt like a prison. A prison of boredom filled with duties that were choking him more and more. And through the bars, he could see the outside world, he could see the time-agents working for his parents, and all the things they accomplished.

And when Balthazar found an escape route, it was obvious he was meant to go sooner or later.

Note : And here’s the first part of a long fic that I’ve been thinking of for a while now. Note that I have NO idea when the second chapter will come out. While I’m basically done with the school year, I still have some work, so I won’t have all the time of the world. But I still really wanted to get that chapter done.

The prologue is going to be three to four chapters long and will mostly serve to give the characters a backstory along with introducing some side characters. But be aware that the ideas introduced in these chapters won’t be the subject of an arc in the main story, it will be more like things established about the characters that could get a mention or characters that will show up in the main story without much introduction, since the introduction will be done here.

There will also be some small “extra” chapters about things that are related to the fic but overall don’t really play a big role in the main story, like a flashback or, in the case of this chapter, a “where are they now” kind of thing. There could also be smut at some point if I ever decide to try writing about it (no promises).

As for the main fic, let’s just say that, while I write Cavendish and Dakota as a married couple, I’m still a sucker for “getting together” fics. So I might as well write about their history ; ) .

And fun fact, before Cavendish’s appreciation day, I never really thought of a backstory for him and Dakota. But after seeing people talk about them and their possible histories, in arts and even old fics and random posts, I started making my own headcanons. So thanks people for the inspiration !

This chapter can kind of be considered as a Royal AU I guess ? I mean, it’s more of a backstory related to it but the “aesthetic” is pretty much the same as a royal AU. As for the castle, it’s your usual renaissance castle but with futuristic technology like metallic automatic doors for the bedrooms and some floating telegraphic screen things to write notes on; stuff like that. Although, for the clothing, it would be more the Victorian era with royal outfits that look like general outfits (hope it’s easy to picture… Basically it’s not the Renaissance clothing with layer after layer, it’s a less heavy clothing). Also, the garden is an “English garden” with plants that can grow kind of randomly (compared to French garden in which everything is controlled and symmetrical).

I have no idea if this description makes sense but point is, this is basically what most people think about when you say 1700s royalty but with stuff from different time periods because no research had been made on a precise time period. In my defense, this takes place in 2149 so who’s to say people wouldn’t mix time periods ?

And since I took a royal approach and talk economy : know that this story is just some random fic and does not show any politic views or stuff like that. It’s the first ideas that came to mind to justify having the characters as royals. Even the royal situation is more out of convenience than anything. And the fact that this is posted now also has nothing to do with what happened a few days ago; I started working on this way before it.

And finally, if you have any questions or comments about this fic, feel free to ask ! I’m always open to criticism and for an excuse to infodump (as long as it doesn’t end up in spoiling the story) ! And since two fics are doing it, if you’re wondering : no, this fic won’t have an askblog. While I love askblogs, I don’t have the energy to make one. So if you have any questions about the fic, ask in general, not to a character.

One last comment : while this chapter is pretty chill in terms of content, be aware that the rest of the prologue, along with some parts of the main fic, will talk about some pretty serious topics, which is also why this fic might take some time for every chapter because a lot of research is needed here to make sure not to mess anything up (the thought of chapter three of the prologue already scares me). For each chapter, I will put a warning for the content. But overall, I’d advise you to look at the AO3 page if only for the tags (tags will change and be added as the fic goes on).

Anyways, enjoy !

“Greetings, class ! Today, we’re going to continue our history lesson on how our nation came to be. As promised last time, we are going to see the European Fallout of the 2080s.

Throughout the 21st century, Europe went through several economic crises. All of it led to a collapse by the end of the 2070s. At the end of the decade, a crisis raged in the United States and spread to our Europe. In only a few weeks, every country found themselves on the brink of poverty. The consequences of this fallout are still present nowadays as most European countries are much poorer than they used to be. A lot of people tried to find the root of this event and pointed the finger at the Louisiana Purchase.

As for what happened to our England, I told you last time how our country used to be part of the United Kingdom, an alliance made with three other countries. When the fallout started, the United Kingdom was the first to be affected and nobody knew how to make the situation better. After hundreds of arguments and decisions that didn’t go anywhere, the United Kingdom ended up splitting up.

Moreover, people stopped trusting the government of that time, which had a prime minister at its head, and asked for the royal family to stand up and take back the leadership role they gave up years ago. But since the Queen can only do so much, since not every part of the country was affected equally and since a government with one ruler making decisions with a council failed, the system changed. Our country was divided in Estates, each ruled by a Lady or a Lord. The Ladies and Lords were chosen among the richest and most influential families of England. This division helped bringing closeness between the people and the ones ruling over them. That way, solving local issues became easier.

Wishing to be old-fashioned, the Ladies and Lords decided to live in palaces, each palace near the biggest town of the Estate. They also started to refer to each other as kings and queens, though with no desire to question the authority of our Queen. They also chose to raise their children to take over after their passing and chose to host meetings, often turning into balls, to give their children the opportunity to meet the princes and princesses that could become their future spouse. Finally, these families all have a profession related to the Queen and the rest of her court. Of course, they are part of the court as well.

This system, our current system, had been created more than five decades ago now, and look at how greatly it managed to save us from the collapse the rest of Europe is barely recovering from !

And that, children, is why we live and thrive in the Cavendish Estate.”

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

April 20, 2149

“Have you heard about what that person claimed last night ? I heard it had been all over the news !”

Balthazar chuckled. Gossip. Something people sure loved to spread in this town. There was something quite fascinating about it. To see people so willing to believe anything, if they know the person they heard it from.

“What does this weirdo want ?”, he heard one of the ladies whisper to the other.

“My apologies.”, Balthazar replied, knowing full-well the comment was aimed at him. After all, he was the only person wearing a black cloak while sitting on benches at the town’s only green space, looking at the people passing by. Not wishing to bring more attention to himself, and realizing how late it was getting, the blonde walked away, covering as much of his face as possible.

“What a creep.”

Balthazar walked through the town, wishing he had the time to stop at one of the shops that displayed artisanal work. This work was so much insignificant compared to everything he was given, and yet it was so much more valuable ! Those were hand-craft objects, things that people made themselves, with their own talent ! Things they accomplished by their own abilities !

...But he didn’t have time, he had to hurry.

He knew the road by heart by now. First leave the town by taking the smaller streets. Then, there was the long road through the forest. Balthazar always felt uncomfortable while crossing it. The woods were purely decorative, put there by his grandparents to make the ride to the castle more pleasant. This meant that nothing and nobody lived here, and the only noise that could be heard were the occasional blowing of the wind through the leaves and the electric movement of the cameras. They weren’t a lot of them, and Balthazar managed to find a path that avoided them all. He could now rush through the woods, only slowing down once he reached the walls surrounding the royal garden. There was a crack in one part of the wall, at the very back of the garden, hidden behind a set of bushes and just big enough to let the prince go through. It had been there for years.

All he had to do now was hide his cloak into the bushes, remove all eventual filth off his person, grab the book about time theories he left behind and go back inside, pretending to have been reading this whole time. When he started to open the back doors and felt the guards grabbing them to let him in, he felt reassured to see them do their usual greeting. Seemed like nobody had been looking for him.

“Balthazar.”, the prince almost jumped as his mother emerged from one corridor, and took back his previous statement. The queen had her face fully visible with her ginger hair tied into a bun. And while the woman looked calm and composed, the blonde knew that, had she not been raised as a royal, the glare from her icy eyes would lead to a full-blown rage. The queen opened her mouth to speak but no sound came out as she noticed the book in her son’s hands. When she looked back at him, he knew he was in trouble.

“Have you been so taken by your story that you did not hear the commotion inside ?”

“I…”, Balthazar didn’t know how to answer without making it worse for him. He had no idea his free-time had been replaced by something else. How do you pretend to forget about something if you don’t even know what it is ?

“The son of our closest ally was there, more than eager to meet you again.”

“Oh ! A meeting !”, his interjection only reinforced the frown on his mother’s freckled face and the prince gulped. “I…I mean, I thought we already had such a meeting Monday.”

“We chose to have them more often, you are aware of that.”, it wasn’t a question.

“I…”, Balthazar sighed. “I apologize for my lack of foresight.”, that was his best option right now.

“Apologies will not bring a husband.”, the queen reprimanded. She approached him and grabbed his head. “You are close to being thirty now.”, he tone soothed.

“I am only twenty-six.”, her son protested.

“It is already old.”, she insisted. “Soon enough, you will lose your youthful charm.”, she lifted his chin. “You are a handsome man, dear. Do not let it go to waste.”

“I assure you, I am not trying to.”

“Then why avoiding your chances ?”

“…”, the prince looked down.

“Is there something wrong with your suitors ?”, she tried asking. “Would you rather court Ladies ?”

“No, it’s not- ! I really do am interested in Lords.”, his mother raised an eyebrow, clearly expecting a better explanation. “I simply…I do not find these princes to be the most…attractive. Or interesting.”, he mumbled that last part.

His mother eyed him for a moment, before finally letting go of him.

“Remember. You are the heir of the Cavendish Estate. It is your duty to assure our progeny. It is already disappointing to know that you will continue our bloodline with a surrogate instead of your spouse. Do not force us to choose a husband for you.”, and with that, she left.

Truth be told, Balthazar saw all these princes as the same. Rich egotistical men who boasted about the wealth and power their parents managed to get. They were all the same built, all told the same boring discussions, seemingly happy about their situation. Sometimes, Balthazar felt like the only one who wasn’t interested into such talks, who wasn’t satisfied with what he was.

Now, a real man, a strong and muscular man who could sweep him off his feet and crush him without effort, while still showing kindness and acting as a gentleman…Now that was his type of men !

However, he could never admit it to his parents. They would be disgusted with him.

“Your highness ?”, Balthazar thoughts were interrupted by one of the servants approaching. The man bowed his head in respect.

“What is it ?”, the prince asked, taking his royal tone.

“I am here to notify you like you asked. Mr. Elmont and his team are about to come back.”

“Mr. Elmont is back ?”, he asked excitedly.

“He is.”, the servant confirmed.

“Thank you !”, Balthazar quickly said as he hurried down the hallway, his manners forgotten.

It didn’t take him long to reach the basement under the right wing of the castle. This part of the property served as headquarters for the B.O.T.T. agents working for the Cavendishes.

The prince went to the garage. It was there that most people went to talk to the agents, as the rest of the space given to them was used for their personal accommodation.

The garage was a simple room. At the center, there were parking spaces for the cars of the five teams that lived here, including two spare vehicles that were rarely used. Near the walls rested equipment along with tools and car parts. There also was a cooler and several bags for long missions in hostile environments.

There were also pictures. Dozens of framed pictures of all the places they travelled to and the wonders they saw here. Balthazar was always in awe at their view. To think the world used to be so different ! That the world outside of those walls was so diverse ! That there had been so many civilizations, so many different kinds of people over the centuries ! But out of all these people, how many of them had their story told ? How many of them made a difference ? How many were completely forgotten ? The thought of it both fascinated and scared the prince as he wondered about his own place in the world. Would he be a hero, remembered for his great ruling, or would he be forgotten, becoming nothing more than a name on a family tree ? Or worse, what if he was remembered for the bad reasons ? He knew some of the people in the Estate were against the concept of Lords ruling over them. So what would this mean for his future ?

Most often than not, Balthazar envied the time-travelers. Not only did they have the luck to see so many things in their lifetime, but they also had the opportunity to make a change in the world. Sometimes, Balthazar wished he could be in their place.

Ever since he learned to read, he had been studying about time-travel. He started off reading child books about the adventures of the incredible Professor Time and his loyal partner Perry, a creature Balthazar always figured was fictional. Then, as he grew up, he continued with theories and facts about the time-stream, alternate universes and other dimensions. His parents had always been skeptical about this hobby of him, claiming that it could ‘derivate you from your duties’. But overall, the prince managed to convince his mother to let him spend his free-time learning about it, as long as he kept paying attention to ‘important matters’.

Soon after he took the stairs leading to the garage, the portal to the past opened, letting three time-vehicles back. The time-travelers left their vehicles and the blonde quickly took sight of Mr. Elmont’s familiar shape. At the sight of the prince, the agents bowed.

“Your majesty.”, they greeted.

“Gentlemen.”, Balthazar replied, trying to keep his composure. “May I hear the report of your assignment ?”

“Certainly.”, Mr. Elmont replied. He took out one of his holographic devices to give to the prince.

“Thank you.”, the blonde dismissed the group with a gesture. After all, their priority was to report to the king and queen. If they had to clean or tend to the cars, they could do so later.

With the agents away, he turned the device on and a representation of the land visited appeared. There was a text at the bottom, explaining that the time was West-Asia in 1795 and what the objective was. Balthazar spent a good chunk of time reading it all, planning dozens of questions to ask the agents, until his father’s impatient voice brought him back to his royal duties. With envious glances towards the time-machines, he left the garage.

When the evening came, Balthazar had a boring and uneventful dinner filled with talks with his parents about the state of their province before retracting to his room. He sighed, sliding down against the door. What was wrong with him ? He was a prince. He was smart, cultivated, respected, beloved by the court. So why did all the things supposedly important for him feel so dull ? Why did everyday feel like the same boring routine ? And with his parents wishing to intensify the number of meetings with other princes…

He shouldn’t be thinking like this. He knew his parents wouldn’t like it. He was a future Lord ! He was rich ! He had everything !

Well…maybe not everything.

Balthazar found himself drawn to his balcony, putting his weight onto the ramp as he admired the familiar view. He could see the capital from here, its light a display of the grooming activity of the people. Further away, there were other towns, some almost barely visible due to the distance.

What were civilians doing right now ? What kind of activities did they do at that time ? Did they know how lucky they were to live out there ? To be free to do and see anything they wanted ? Or were they envious of his life, just like he was of theirs ?

The prince sighed again. He didn’t know why he felt like that. Ever since he was a child, he had never felt satisfied with being a prince. He never liked having so many duties. He didn’t care about the politics of the allies and enemies his father had. He didn’t enjoy courting. But most importantly, he hated how people only knew and praised him for what his family was, instead of knowing who he was as a person, and what he could accomplish by himself. This was what made his entire work feel so meaningless.

Balthazar went to sit on his bed, putting Dennis on his lap.

“Do you think I overthink things ?”, he asked Dennis. Of course, the plush didn’t respond, but it didn’t stop the blonde from seeing a judgmental look on his companion’s face. “You’re right. I should not be complaining. Besides, surely I cannot be the only member of the court who complains like that…But still, why do you think I feel like this ? Was I not born and raised to rule ? And it isn’t as if I was not born here. Mother and Father care too much about lineage to adopt.

So if ruling is in my blood, why do I feel like I am not made for it ?”

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

April 21, 2149

Another day, another meeting with other Estates, another potential husband to stand.

Everyone was gathered into the throne room. The high members of the Estate were here, along with members of the court and families of friend Estates. Balthazar was standing in front of his throne, next to his parents. The king was doing his usual welcoming speech, his tall stature and floating blond hair making his presence imposing. The prince half-listened to his father’s speech. He had heard it a million times before. Instead of listening, he studied the crowd. One of the men here might very well be his future husband. Whoever it might be, Balthazar hoped he would be strong but also compelling.

As he recognized the last words from the speech, he took it as his cue and walked down the steps separating the thrones to the rest of the room. His father announced the festivities and people started to merge together in a myriad of colors.

Each Estate had a dominating color in their clothing, adorned for the Lords with a dozen medals and titles like his father did. Balthazar wasn’t so bad himself. He was wearing a white shirt covered by a deep blue waist-coat along with leggings, all covered by a matching coat. The three pieces of clothing had gold patterns sewed on them. His stockings were white, contrasting with the black of his boots. His crown was quite simple : a circular piece of jewelry with emeralds engraved in it. The green created an enticing contrast with the rest of his clothing. The only exception were his glasses, carrying the same golden colors as the crown, with an emerald on each branch.

Soon enough, he was approached by a man. He was wearing a brown outfit that complimented his dark hair. His clothes followed the same mold as Balthazar’s, the proper dress code for a prince. From his outfit, Balthazar guessed that he came from the Valjean Estate, an Estate form the far-South that had some French roots and recently became good acquaintances with his own province. The blonde had to admit, that prince wasn’t bad looking.

“Greetings. May your kingdom be prosperous and your family proud.”, the prince extended his hand.

“May your kingdom be prosperous and your family proud.”, the blonde shook his hand. “Prince Balthazar Tiberius of the Cavendish Estate.”, he introduced himself.

“Prince Clement Hugo of the Valjean Estate.”, the prince replied, his accent confirming his origin. “Pleasure to meet your acquaintance.”

“The pleasure is all mine.”, Balthazar replied. He knew the protocol, and the prince was slightly his style, so he might as well get things going. “Would you like to head for the garden ? We can have more privacy to talk.”

“A bright idea.”, the other man nodded, following him.

They stayed in the garden for a while, walking along the path near the walls. At every step, Balthazar’s disappointment grew. For a moment, he had thought that he was finally with someone interesting. But like any other prince he met, the man ended up talking politics and royal meetings and other topics that the blonde would rather forget about, if only for one day.

“And that’s how my father solved the issue of that drought.”, the prince boasted. “And now, our Estate is more flourishing than ever. Rather impressive, is it not ?”

“Indeed. Your father is rather impressive.”, the blonde pointed out.

“…Well,”, the prince coughed. “I helped as well with a great work-“

“A significant work for sure.”, Balthazar said sarcastically while rolling his eyes.

“Why being so insulting ?”, the prince asked, stopping in his tracks. “Do you not deem your work important ?”

“As a matter of facts, I do not.”

“But…are you not a successful barrister for the Queen ?”

“Oh please ! Do you honestly believe that any of the people I defend would be declared ‘guilty’ without me ? They are part of the Queen’s court ! Our families are too rich and powerful to be opposed !”

The other prince just looked at him, flabbergasted.

“Don’t you see ?!”, Balthazar continued. “Neither of us accomplished anything ! Our professions are nothing but facades ! We didn’t earn any of the things we have ! All our wealth was made by our grandparents ! All the things people praise us for, it was all given to us by our families ! Even our meaningless professions were dictated by them !”

The prince opened his mouth, most likely to protest, but no sound came out.

“Don’t you want to be more than that ? Don’t you want to do something more with your life ?”

“I am doing something with my life !”, he protested.

“But don’t you want more ?”

“…What do you want out of your life, Prince Balthazar ?”

“I…I want to get out of there.”, he gazed at the top of the property’s walls. “I want to explore the world. I want to be the master of my own life. I want people to praise me for my own accomplishments. I want to be more than just a forgettable pawn working for this Estate !”

The prince stared at him, his surprise slowly fading away. For a moment, Balthazar thought that he was going to excuse himself, leaving and not feeling comfortable to talk to him again unless he was forced to. Not like the blonde would mind. This was how half of those ‘relationships’ ended up anyways. At least this one would be as short as he wished it to.

But instead, the prince looked at him with a much more serious expression.

“…I knew someone like you.”

“You…you do ?”

“The youngest prince of the Limgar Estate. He knew his turn as a ruler would never come, but he never wished for it anyways. He wished to leave his Estate, and he tried to.”

“He did ?!”, for the first time in years, Balthazar felt a bubbling excitement. Was it truly possible to leave ? Were there no consequences to it ?

The prince nodded. “Unfortunately for him, he had no choice but using the front gate. He tried to leave during the guards relaying but was seen. And while he managed to go far, as he was on a train by the time his family was warned and it was made clear that he was not supposed to be outside, it only took a call to the friends Estates to end his escapade.”

Balthazar deflated. Of course there was no easy way to get away with such a plan.

“Ever since this incident, he is followed at all times by a guard. As for his reputation…Well, I believe you understand that the entire court now show him every disdain. He is an outcast among his own people. Of course, this is not helped by his rank as the second born.”

The prince let Balthazar a few seconds to take it all in. “I will refrain from confessing your desires to your family.”, he then reassured. “But if I were you, I would reconsider a lot of things. Nobody wants to be shunned by their own kind, especially an heir.”, and with that, the prince bowed to excuse himself and headed back to the castle.

Balthazar stayed behind, dozens of questions on the tip of his tongue but unable to talk. How long had it been since this event ? How many people were aware of this story ? Would it be possible for him to meet that prince ? Did other people feel that same way but never talk about it out of fear ? Not like it would matter anyways, if bringing it up only caused troubles. But still. For once, it would be nice to meet someone who shared his point of view, to prove that they had nothing insane to them.

The blonde watched as the other prince headed back inside, before glancing the other way. For an instant, he considered going to town to forget about this whole thing, but with the current meeting, he knew his parents were watching. With one last lingering glance towards the walls, he headed back inside.

Balthazar almost collapsed in his throne as the evening came. The meeting ended soon after he came back inside. Afterwards, it had been time for his piano lessons, followed by sports and dance and then several hours of working for his law firm. And now, he had to attend as his parents took care of business for the people. Representatives would come to have hour-long discussions about what policies to adopt. Balthazar needed to pay attention and remember as much as possible despite his parents’ advisor noting it all down on a holographic tablet.

By the time they finished, the prince was trying to suppress his yawns, his head resting on his hand from boredom and tiredness. He quickly corrected his posture when his father glanced at him.

Without a word, the three royals stood up, the king dismissing the servants, and went for dinner.

Despite his tiredness, Balthazar went to the B.O.T.T. quarters after dinner. With his mother promising more meetings, he would have little to no free-time in the upcoming days. So he might as well take any opportunity.

He reached the garage and was relieved to see Mr. Elmont here. The man was working on a device.

“Sir.”

The time-traveler looked up in surprise and quickly saluted. “Your Majesty.”

“Is this a bad time ?”, the prince asked.

“Not at all.”, Elmont reassured, a hint of amusement in his voice. Ever since Balthazar had been allowed to meet the time-agents, Mr. Elmont had been kind of a confidant to him. He quickly saw the interest the prince had for his profession and was always more than happy to recount his missions. And meeting the prince in his younger years helped partly close the gap tied to the power imbalance, making the agent more of a friend than a servant. “What can I do for you ?”

“I would like to hear more of your last mission, if this is possible.”, the blonde tried to sound as detached as possible. His parents tended to enforce the fact that Mr. Elmont was under his orders, and he didn’t want the agent to get scolded for patronizing him.

Elmont picked up his holographic device and rested his back against the working table, patting the space next to him as an invitation for the prince.

For the next hour or so, the blonde listened as the time-traveler explained his last mission in detail, talking about the objectives, the places, the people. Balthazar let himself loosen, letting the man see his curiosity.

“BALTHAZAR !”

The prince jumped as his father’s voice filled the room.

“Balthazar ! What are you doing in here at such a time ?!”, the king reprimanded while walking down the stairs.

“Your Highness.”, the time-traveler quickly greeted.

“Agent Elmont ! You know better than to waste the time of an heir on trivial babbling !”

“My deepest apologies, your Highness.”

“Father.”, the prince intervened. “I’m the one who chose to come here. Mr. Elmont did nothing but obey orders.”

“Balthazar…”, the king said in a warning tone. Without another word, he went back up the stairs. The prince glanced at the time-traveler, murmuring a ‘apologies’ before trotting after his father. Once he reached his level, the Lord looked at him. “Balthazar.”

“Father, I-“

“Son, listen. You are an heir. You have a duty, responsibilities.”, he lectured. “Your mother has left you loose for too long. You need to learn to spend your time on what truly matters.”

“I…I understand.”, Balthazar could only agree with his father’s wishes. It seemed that today was going to become the new norm.

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

April 28, 2149

Balthazar collapsed in his bed, ignoring the crown slipping out of his face. It had been a week since his parents had decided to intensify his duties and it was already starting to show. He had had a trial yesterday and, while the client got acquitted like every other, his defense had been the flimsiest he ever displayed. His parents had lectured him, telling him how disappointing he had been. Of course, he had expected their reaction. His profession was a show before anything else. He had to be perfect to prove the greatness of his Estate.

And with the revocation of his free-time, he found himself thinking more and more about the story prince Clement had told him. Worse, he thought of the way the younger brother tried to leave and what the flaws in his plan had been. Mainly, the issues were his choice to use the front gate and to head for a friend’s Estate. If a member of the court goes missing, of course calling friends and enemies was the first thing to do. Balthazar needed to find an Estate that tended to be forgotten by most if he wanted to-

No. He shouldn’t have these thoughts. Even if the outside world seemed so wide and exciting and-

Stop this., he scolded himself. You have a duty to fulfill. Besides, the outside world is dangerous. An accident-prone person such as you would struggle alone out there. And who’s to say other Estates are the same as the capital ? The places that Mr. Elmont sees are from the past. If I leave, I would find myself on my own in much duller places. Unless I pack enough money to get to study-

No. You have to stop this ! You were born to be a ruler !

…But isn’t being close to the people part of being a ruler ? Doesn’t that mean leaving the castle as well ?

Balthazar glanced at Dennis. The plush was standing on the bed near him. At the view of his companion, memories started to flood into his mind. His only day of freedom, a carnival in the middle of the capital. So many games, so many colors, so many noises, so much laugher, so much happiness. The prince had yet to top the feelings of that day.

He sighed. He wanted to get out of there, there was no reason to doubt this. He wanted another life, outside of these walls and among the people. He wanted to find a man that was different from all these princes, much more charming than any of them could dream to be.

But could this life ever become more than just a dream ?

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

May 9, 2149

Balthazar was running down the halls, ignoring the looks from the servants. He had just been warned that every time-traveler would go on a mission that would last at least a month. If he wanted to talk to them, it was now.

He quickly went down the stairs to the garage and was relieved to see the agents still there, making their ways into the vehicles. Once a few took notice of him, they greeted him, getting the attention of the other agents.

“Is Mr. Elmont still there ?”, the prince asked between two breaths. He looked at all the cars and was relieved to notice the agent’s usual time-machine. A second later, Mr. Elmont left his vehicle.

“Go ahead.”, he told the rest of the group. “We will join you afterwards.”

Balthazar watched as the cars jumped into the time-stream. Elmont approached him while his partner entered their time-machine.

“I’m afraid I don’t have much time.”, the agent reminded. “What is it ?”

“I…”, the prince cleared his throat, trying to get his composure back. “I would like to know more about how you became a time-traveler.”

“Oh ? And why is that ?”, Elmont seemed hesitant. Has the king given him a warning due to last time ?

“Am I not allowed to know every part of your profession, including how to reach it ?”, he tried to sound firm. But when he saw the agent look away with a frown, his pretense dropped. “Mr. Elmont, please tell me.”, he insisted.

“…Alright.”, the agent decided. “To become a time-traveler, you need to study for twenty cycles. Each cycle is three months long, and you’re able to take a long break between each cycle. So the shortest time for the studies is five years, with four cycles per year and no break. You can start your studies by the age of fifteen, if you’re certain this is your calling.”, Balthazar listened intensely, maybe too intensely.

“During those studies, you learn about the histories and cultures of the past, including the different views of those times for when you need to do infiltration missions. You also learn about time-travel theories and how your machine works. There’s physical training as well, along with a few driving lessons, especially to learn to drive under pressure. But it’s better to learn to drive before starting out, or during the first cycles.”

“And where did you study ?”

The agent looked at him for a moment before answering. “Every big town has a branch of the time-travel agency where you can learn and be employed. But the B.O.T.T. headquarters are located in America, in the Tri-State Area where time-travel was invented. In the states, there’s also the Institution of Regulation and Punishment for Time-Travel, I.R.P.T.T. for short. So if you want to address B.O.T.T., it needs to go overseas.”

“Edward ?”, the other time-agent called from the car.

“I have to go.”, Mr. Elmont told the prince.

“I understand.”, Balthazar smiled. “May your journey be successful.”

“Thank you.”, the agent bowed. On his way to the car, he stopped and looked over his shoulder. “Your Majesty. Whatever you might be thinking of doing, please be careful.”

And with that, the time-machine was gone.

Balthazar stayed for a moment, looking at the spare engines. If he knew how to drive, could he be able to leave that way ?

He shook his head. Thinking about it was meaningless. He should go back before any of his parents noticed his absence. He had papers to sort for his next case.

That is, if he did attend to the trial.

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

May 18, 2149

This was a terrible idea.

It was the middle of the night. The castle was silent, devoid of any activity aside from the guards on patrol. Balthazar was standing in front of his bed, where was resting a brown satchel that he filled with books about time-travel, along with a few personal items, including Dennis. And cash. A lot of cash.

Balthazar’s hands were resting on each side of the bag. He was considering his options. Ever since the meeting with the Valjean prince, he had unconsciously been studying the routine of the guards, counting the time between each permutation. He had also gotten an interest for the other Estates, as his mother put it. In reality, he asked her and his father about the Estates they had a relationship with, either positive or negative, to see which places they never paid attention to.

Along with that, he got the opportunity to meet the oldest prince of the Limgar Estate and ask him about what happened with his brother. As expected, he was told about how terribly viewed the younger brother was now. This made the blonde more hesitant about his plan, but not enough to stop him. What he mostly learned from this story was one thing : do NOT get caught.

Finally, he had put in the steps forcing him to leave tonight. He bought bus and train tickets to reach another Estate, along with clothes using an anonymous name. He made sure the shop was near the last train station so that he could change the moment he got to the Estate. He also got himself a much less fancy pair of glasses that he was already wearing. As for the money, he took as much from his account as he could carry, hoping to set a new one to remove any possible suspicion.

Everything was ready. He just needed to go.

And yet…

He started pacing and biting his nails, full of doubt. Should he really do this ? Could he really do this ? This had to be the biggest decision of his entire life ! Was it truly what he wished ? It wasn’t like he had it bad here. He had all the possessions he wanted ! And his parents were good people who wanted what was best for the Estate and for him.

But at the same time, he didn’t feel fulfilled here. He always felt like none of his actions mattered, like nobody would ever care about who he was as a person. The court only wanted to see a perfect royal figure out of him. They never cared about who he was on the inside, about what he liked, what he did and didn’t enjoy.

As for his parents…His father was always working and only talked to him if it had anything to do with the Estate or his profession. Or it would be to reprimand him for not being good enough. And while his mother spent more time caring for him, most of the time, it felt like she was mostly worried due to his accident-prone tendencies.

Being accident-prone…another reason not to leave. As long as he stayed here, he could be safe. But was all that safety really worth staying locked up ? And why wouldn’t he be able to survive on his own ? He lived for twenty-six years for goodness’ sake ! Besides, it wasn’t like anything truly bad ever happened to him. Tripping into bushes or having a vase almost fall on him weren’t going to kill him !

Balthazar looked at his balcony and took a deep breath. His decision was made. It was probably crazy and incredibly stupid, but he was not going to back down now.

He closed his bag and went to leave his room. But as his hand was about to touch the automatic panel, his thoughts went back on his parents. Guilt started to settle in. They were kind and fair people who truly loved him. They didn’t deserve to be left in the dark. The soon-to-be-ex prince went to a drawer and took out pen and paper.

Dear Mother, dear Father.

I’m sorry.

Throughout my entire life, you raised me for one purpose : to be the future ruler of the Cavendish Estate, to make our province rich and prosperous.

But ever since my childhood, I showed reticence over my duties. I always wished for a different life.

I found a

Several years ago, I discovered a hole in the garden’s walls. I used it ever since every time I had enough free-time. I learned a lot about the outside world and all the kind of people that live out there. And I wish to join them.

Tonight. This is what I have decided to do. By the time you find this letter, I will be far away.

Please do not try to find me. I have no desire to remain a prince. I do not deserve to be called a prince.

I hope you will be able to forgive me for this. Believe me when I say I have no desire to hurt you. I love both of you dearly and I always will.

May you be able to move forwards and keep the Estate in its current glory.

My deepest love,

Balthazar Tiberius Cavendish, former heir of the Cavendish Estate

He read the letter several times. After all, this was the very last time he would ever interact with his parents. He could already picture their reaction after finding the letter, their desire to call every Estate they can think of to try finding him. His father would be furious. His mother would be devastated.

…He hoped that one day, they would understand.

…

With a heavy heart, he put the letter on the nightstand. He then took out his crown to put with it.

“Goodbye.”, he whispered, eyes on the crown. He then looked at the time, making sure a permutation was near, and left the room.

Balthazar navigated from bush to bush, avoiding any places where guards were present. Lucky for him, he studied their routines long enough to know where to go and, soon enough, he found himself in front of the plants hiding the crack in the wall. He crossed the plants, found his cloak, put it on and stood in front of the crack.

Sometimes, he wondered how nobody found out about it besides him. He assumed it was a lack of foresight from the gardeners and guards. As for his parents never realizing he was gone, their lack of investment in anything but his royal duties seemed like the most logical explanation.

As he looked at the forest on the other side of the wall, he found himself hesitating again. But he had to remain brave. There was no going back now.

He took a deep breath, and crossed the familiar crack for the very last time.

Despite having crossed it a hundred times, the feelings he felt that time were like no other. There was a new sense of excitement, making him feel lighter than the breeze. For the first time in his entire life, he felt in peace. That was when he knew he had made the right decision.

Once he reached the other side, he opened his eyes and let out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding. He started smiling, then laughing, feeling immense joy course through him. He did it ! He was free !

“Is anybody here ?”

Balthazar immediately covered his mouth and put himself against the wall, cursing himself mentally. Blast ! Of course he was still very far from being out of trouble !

“Albert ? was that you ?”

“Did you call for me ?”

“I believe I heard something near the wall.”

“It’s probably the wind. I just came from here and there’s nobody on sight.”

“Are you sure ? Just because nobody in years tried to invade doesn’t mean it can’t happen. You know some folks started to oppose the court. We wouldn’t be out there if it wasn’t the case.”

“You’re right. Let’s call for team West to investigate closer to the mansion. We’ll take the walls.”

“Alright. Let’s get to the communicator.”

Balthazar waited until he couldn’t hear their footsteps and bolted away, taking the path he knew to be cameras-free. Now it was time for phase two.

The next few hours were extremely tense for Balthazar. His future wasn’t truly into his own hands yet. It would only take one person going into his room before morning to ruin his entire plan.

He took the bus to the closest station, then the train, ignoring all the odd looks people were giving him. It sure was hard for a hooded figure to stay discreet during the night. Lucky for him, the vehicles were driven by robots, so nobody forced him to show his face.

He spent the travel in train looking out the window. Upon reaching the border and seeing the “Now leaving the Cavendish Estate” sign, he felt an odd sense of sadness, almost like nostalgia.

And yet, he was smiling.

It was almost dawn when he reached the Stanmar Estate. It was one of the five Estates unknown or ignored by most, due to their difficulty to rise back after the Fallout. Nobody would look for him here.

After getting off the train, he hurried to the clothes shop. Luckily, they had an automatic system to give out orders anytime. All that was needed was money and a password. Balthazar was glad he didn’t have to talk to anyone. How do you explain a man with thousand in cash but not even owning a phone ? And let’s not forget his dialect. He would have to learn to speak in more familiar terms if he didn’t want to bring unwanted attention to himself.

Balthazar went to an alley, changed clothes, and disposed of his royal outfit with fire. As he watched the clothes burn, the same feelings from before resurfaced, this time mixed with excitement. He truly was free now.

He wondered what to do with the cloak and ultimately decided to burn it as well. It was part of the past. He didn’t need to hide his face anymore.

His new clothes were much more comfortable than he expected. After wearing a tight outfit for years, it felt like a nice change of pace. Pleased with himself, he left the alley.

The first ray of sunshine started to show as the blonde walked with confidence in the town, his plans in mind. He would have to find an apartment and get a job. Maybe he should work into a law firm since he had the experience. He also needed to buy a lot of essentials he had been forced to leave behind, like a phone or a computer and of course a lot of bathroom products. Finally, he needed a bank account, and to get his driver license.

But most importantly, he needed to sign up to the closest school of time-travel. He would start as quickly as possible. Besides, the sooner he was an agent, the better. While he knew people wouldn’t recognize him here, as common folks never learned the names of far Estates, let alone the appearance of their rulers, having a lawyer bearing his name could definitely be suspicious. If he was a time-agent, it could take longer to make a connection.

Balthazar took a deep breath and smiled happily. It was a new day, the start of an entirely new chapter of his life. No longer would he feel like a pawn, getting shaped the way other people wanted. Now he was going to be his own man ! A savior, like Mr. Elmont ! Like the great Professor Time ! People would remember the name Balthazar Tiberius Cavendish as the one of a hero ! For all the missions he accomplished by himself ! He would become a top agent! A savior of the world !

Balthazar jumped in excitement. He couldn’t wait to get started !

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

Note : Well, here’s the first part ! Thanks for reading ! I hope I didn’t go too OOC with Cavendish here, but in my defense, it is a younger version of him who doesn’t know much about the real world, so he’s a bit idealistic (and he got one hell of a reality check after leaving). I also hope that I didn’t hammer his point of view with the whole “wishing to do something of his life” side. Also, yes, he’s gay in this story (rip Hildegard). And yes, he’s a twink with a few kinks. There ! I said it and I assume it ! (I’m actually very ashamed of that part with Cav talking about his ideal man. But at least I see him grow more or less out of this view of toxic masculinity as what a perfect man should look like. And by that I mean that it would still be his type of guy, but he’d learn to get attached to men even if they didn’t fit this type).

And is Cavendish autistic in this ? Honestly I’m not sure. Thing is, I’m writing Cav with the habits he has in the show (though I yet have to make him say “huzza !” in one of my fics), and those habits can be read as autistic. Same for his interest towards time-travel and Professor Time that in this chapter can be read as a special interest. But at the same time, him being so interested by the travel and the outside world is mostly due to how dull and boring his life is, so he gets excited by the things he doesn’t know.

So overall, I guess it can be read as both autistic and not; but I’m not writing him with the intention to insist about him being autistic, the same way I won’t do research on autistic behavior in opposition to how I started looking up info about children with ADHD for the next chapter.

And a word about this chapter : I know that there are a few plot conveniences there and there, especially at the end with the escape, but I tried to make them as cohesive with the story as possible or make them related to future technology, so I hope it doesn’t take people out of the story. Though I guess the inaccuracies with how royalty works is what is the most likely to take people out of the story.

As for Cav’s parents, I hope I was descriptive enough. But if you want more info about their appearance, don’t hesitate to ask ! Just don’t expect a drawing since I can’t draw to save my life 😅. And for their names, after looking up British names I decided to settle with Victoria and William but maybe it could change ? I mean I’m pretty sure William has something to do with the current royal family but I don’t know shit about the British royal family. I didn’t really look anything up about them since this chapter has more of a made-up royalty.

Thanks again for reading and stay tuned for chapter two, in which, after learning about the prince, we’re now jumping into the life of the pauper !

#Milo Murphy's Law #mml #Balthazar Cavendish #my fanfics #As Time Passes #Cav be like :#'aren't you tired of being nice ?#don't you want to go apeshit ?'#hope this chapter is good !#it sure was longer than expected #and yet it still feels like it goes too fast #oh well #now time to wonder how long chapter two will be #As Time Passes Prologue

8 notes · View notes

zecoritheweirdone · 3 years

Note

*pulls out spoon* kindly asking u to share knowledge of epic bench bugs au <3

:DD!!

(aight dsmpblr if you don’t know bug fables i Highly recommend checking it out it do be good.)

okay so i haven’t actually shared too much of it over here on tumblr(or anywhere really,, fkdmdkdmr) but the basic idea that i have said before is that it’s a dream smp bug fables au,,, with the bench trio taking the place of team snakemouth. none of them quite fill the roles Exactly,, but they are based vaguely on each member,, tubbo being kabbu, tommy being vi, and ranboo being leif. only ranboo keeps the bug type of the original role(if you’d played the game you’d know why(technically speaking bc this is an au i Could change that,,, but i don’t wanna,, dkdmdkdmdk. ‘sides, i like mothboo,,)),, while tubbo becomes a bee and tommy becomes a damselfly. originally i called him a dragonfly,, but turns out!! the npc i was referencing for his design(riz) was not, in fact, a dragonfly,,,, and i do Not wanna redesign him i Just got used to his design. so. he be damselfly now <3.

and speaking of designs,,, art (and a lot more infodumping) below!

color theory my beloathed <3

yes tubbo has a bazooka. he deserves it. also it ain’t shown here but tommy gets knives.

i also thought about who other characters would be,,,, thinking queen elizant ii would maybe be eret? with maki being foolish bc eternal duo? i also wanna say karl be neolith bc of his whole library thing,, but i think someone close to tubbo might make more sense,, since kabbu and neolith are pretty close in the game (read: gay bugs).

thinking mothiva and zasp would be wilbur and techno respectively? except wilbur is a lot less toxic(more teasing),,, and they are actually friends.

oh also micheal is here too!! (the piglin not the mcchill) he be chompy ^v^,,, thinking he might be a little rotten,, since he is a zombie piglin,,,

now back to the bench trio,, attack styles!!! i thought out some attack styles for them,, kinda like how kabbu is a tank,, vi focuses on long range,, and leif uses ice powers. thinking tubbo might be a hard hitter with his bazooka,, but as a consequence he might have a low hp or it takes a long while for him to attack. tommy hits fast,, and a lot,, might be able to take a lot hits,,, but his attacks alone don’t do a lot of damage. despite being the one i think about the most, i don’t actually have a lot of ideas for ranboo’s attacks. all i know is that he’s got powers kind of like an enderman. i Was thinking he could be a healer of sorts? but that does not relate to enderman at all so. wh. might be able to blast some sort of orb thing? like the enderdragon?? shrugs???

speaking of enderman powers,, he can also teleport! and i’m debating whether or not to keep the water allergy,,,, bc like. the bugs in the game already have an aversion to water, because. bugs. and not to mention,, uh. [stares at the end of chapter 1]. yeah. yeah no if he was allergic to water he would either be Dead or need medical attention fkfmdkfmfknff.

anyway switching topics once again (look at me so good at transitions),, muze!!! thinking niki could take the place of muze. niki is also muse. also also instead of it being a marriage it’s more of a sibling relationship. if you know what i’m talking about,, ;D! if you don’t, suffer <3. ash and zachary both take the place of tod, and no one really replaces the father(wiki calls him grandpa),, he is Nerfed. no longer exists. instead there is awkward cousin john john. yes i am bringing the tales from the smp characters into this, otherwise this would be Weird.

wilbur and niki are friends that is importent to note for me. also jack is,,, somewhere, idk.

the captain and crumb are also here!!! heck yeah!!!!!! they are both beetles(or crumb might be a fruity bug),, and they are tubbo’s (adoptive) family. i would also like to reemphasize the fact that tubbo replaces kabbu. :D!!!!!!!!

unrelated to that last point. the beast. the beast is relatively the same but it’s coloring is more like the enderdragon. why? idk man i just thought it’d be Neat.

oh,, and the wasp king? dream,, 100% dream. (and puffy is(was?) the wasp queen,,)

and phil,,, thinking he could take the place of acolyte aria? and kristen could be venus!!! don’t know if i wanna fully replace the harvest part of her godly status, or add that to it,,, but either way she is also thought to be in charge of death :D! and maybe also primes idk jfmfkdmd. do i know what being the god of primes entails? absolutely not.

also,, this ain’t related to anything from the game,, but i was thinking phil might have been a warrior back in the day? the angel of death :DD!! was teamed with techno,, mayhaps,, before phil retired and tech teamed with wil.

and,,, that’s pretty much it, in terms of characters, i think? aside from a small idea of bad being The Wizard,,,, and also skeppy just. Being There. you simply cannot separate them.

and simply because my brain is hyperfixated on them at the moment,, and i already added tftsmp characters here,,, ran and jackie. they are just. Here. ran might be some sort of thief,, either with whoever replaces astotheles(maybe ponk??? only really thinking that because of,, well. [gestures vaguely]. yeah.),, a separate group,, or just on his own. and jackie. jackie is just There. to cause problems on purpose.

and uh,,, okay Now that’s all i got. aside from doodles during school but that would require me getting Up and taking pictures of them, and. no <3. that being said i Do have pictures of some of em.

if you don’t know bug fables lore simply ignore the two niki’s you don’t need to know about that ;DDD!!!

also idk if i’ll actually add enderwalking in here,,, but like. bogos binted, am i right, folks?

#zecori rambles #zecori answers #dream smp #bench bugs au #wrote this while listening to the centaurworld ost 😎#clementine might also exist here still thinking about whether or not to make her canon #if she is she will be a lil pillbug tommy adopted #don’t know if i want to have ranboo talk using we or not;; cuz like on one hand. [gestures towards leif]. but on the other hand #it feels like it’s more of a leif thing than a ranboo thing?? despite the fact that they will have Almost the same backstory #and such should be affected the same (aside from powers)#but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯#anyway tubbo and ranboo both got backstories but tommy doesn’t really have one;;;#can’t really use vi’s since 1) he ain’t a part of a hive and 2) the only fam he could have are [gestures at wil tech phil tubbo and ranboo]#i’m sure i’ll think of something fidnkddmdk #also!! instead of leif being the one obsessed with cute animals it’s tommy #and less cute more any animal #except micheal he has a vendetta against him #(that’s a lie he cares extremely about micheal)#don’t know who would be one who’s good with spy cards…..#maybe tubbo?#¯\_(ツ)_/¯#also very important to mention but when team jubilee (wil and tech) meet team snake out for the first time;#it’s less ‘heehoo gonna steal all the glory’#and more ‘what the heck these are Literal Children how did they beat snakemouth den’

4 notes · View notes

lindendragon · 3 years

Note

4, 18, and 31

4. Writers who inspired me.

Off the top of my head: lemonadesoda, a great writer, especially considering a characters' thoughts and looking closer inside them, they have also been the victim of many of my infodumps and we had a lot of discussions analyzing stuff, some of which really helped with fleshing out the story, and their fanfics are one of the things that fueled my desire to create my own thing. Ahatintimepieces makes great fanfic that goes in a lot of different directions, but the main focus is family, and a lot of it is really cute, but there's a lot of good angst scenes there too. Mak-draws-art isn't a writer, but their stuff got me into the fandom and inspired me to make content in the first place. Banyanas makes beautiful worldbuilding and fanon defying headcanons and they gave me a lot of input for the heavier aspects of the story, so even though they have only been active here since recently, they inspired me a lot.

18. Wildest fic I've ever written

Okay, you'd think it's the imprisonment chapter, since it deals with the heaviest topics of all the current five chapters I have, but I would have to say that the curent fifth chapter (note that this chapter happens really late in the story, and that the chapters are meant to be read side by side with all the drawings and comics that come inbetween), which also relates to my secret stuff is the wildest, simply because it's so jarring. The beginning will debut in a comic, but the rest will be done in the written chapter. But yeah, there's going to be a lot of dread and uncertainty here, even though we all know it's going to turn out okay at the end since this is a sort of fix-it fic kinda story. But yeah, it's gonna be intense, what with characters hitting their breaking point and unraveling.

31. Ok, I got 2 OCs but I can only tell you a little about one of them. I've had this concept for a Nykuza cat, and he started out as a background character, but then I was like, heh what is a Nyakuza cat doing in a place like this- and then the idea for his general concept and story hit me and before I knew it I had a mind child I didn't know what to do with, so I kinda just put him in the story. While he does not currently have a big role or a too fleshed out character arc, I really like what I did with him and hope to develop him more. Also, thing is, I wanna give him a japanese name and even got some help from lemon, and I did see some cool-but-at-least-to-my-limited-knowledge-realistic names, but I keep putting it off for fear of messing it up, so for now I just refer to him by the pseudonym he uses in part of the story, Archie, so I was thinking a medium lenght 'a' name if possible??? I'll figure it out after exams. But yeah anyway, here's one of the only concepts I finished for him so far, he's gonna be more fleshed out I promise, this is just figuring out general body shape and anatomy

Thank you very much for the ask!

#ask #answer #anonymous #my stuff #lindendragon #my OCs

10 notes · View notes

unfortunate-stranger-losers · 4 years

Text

Triple the Losers AU - Concept Notes

i wanted there to be 27 but if i added patties and audras that made 27 but then i’d have to add kay bc i love her which would make 28 so 21 it is

so the basic concept for this is “hey guys remember how i doubled the baudelaires and made the best au with movie! and netflix!bauds well we’re doing that with book, miniseries and film losers club”

So, yeah, in this au, the book, miniseries and film Losers are all in the same universe, related, and ready to kill a clown. There is no Chapter Two because these kids bully that clown to death asap.

A friend group of 21 is pretty wild but definitely makes for a pretty great army.

Full list of Losers:

The Denbrough Boys

Isaac Denbrough - film!Bill

An adopted sibling, though he’s never known any family but the Denbroughs and is never considered anything other than the oldest Denbrough boy

Artist who wants to illustrate for his brothers’ books bc he loves them

Gay but in denial. Giant crush on Daniel Hanlon.

Anselm Denbrough - miniseries!Bill

Likes to write fantasy novels as an escape from reality

Fights with Bill about whether fantasy or horror is better which is lowkey a metaphor for them arguing about how to deal with their trauma

William “Bill” Denbrough - book!Bill

Writes horror stories cause he loves psychological analyzation

He prefers to face his fears rather than “escape” from them, causing tension between he and Anselm with how they deal with Georgie’s death

Georgie Denbrough - there is only one Georgie as he literally only exists for like one chapter

Loves his brothers

Dead as fuck, sorry

Stuttering seems to be a family trait during childhood in the Denbrough family that Anselm and Bill are afflicted with, though Bill much more than his older bother. (Isaac also starts stuttering young, which is suspected to be more psychological.) This trait skipped a generation, and thus the Denbrough parents don’t really know enough about how to deal with their sons’ disability.

They’re a very creative family, usually in terms of creative writing, though they’re also pretty skilled in the art department. Sharon Denbrough is a skilled pianist and taught Isaac until recently. The family was never very close, and Bill always had a rocky relationship with his parents, but the family fell apart after the death of Georgie. Isaac and Bill found themselves practically ignored, while Anselm was pretty much yelled at for trying to fix everything. The brothers only managed to maintain their relationship by trying to avenge Georgie by killing this fucking clown.

The Hanscom Boys

Desmond “Des” Hanscom - film!Ben

Would like to go into Investigative Journalism, though he’s also really into Local Histories

Tends to be afraid of the concept of death more than anything else

Has a lot of social anxiety

Auster Hanscom - miniseries!Ben

Super into all forms of writing but mostly poetry, which he loves and kinda obsesses over

Was most affected by not having a father figure around, as Des and Ben didn’t seem to mind

Assumed he was straight for a while but is probably demi

Benjamin “Ben” Hanscom - book!Ben

The Architect, and his love of blueprints and planning has made him the main strategist of the Losers Club

He really doesn’t have many psychological demons so his worst fear is just the mummy he saw in a movie too late at night

Pure baby

The Hanscoms’ father left the family when Arlene was still pregnant with Ben; while the boys never understood why, they sometimes speculate about secret missions, one or both of their parents cheating, government conspiracies, etc. Des and Ben never really minded, as Des was quite the introvert and Ben was close with their mom, but Auster really wished they could have a paternal figure, especially since the boys tend to be shunned for their genetic overweight appearance and he really wished for some kind of acceptance.

The move to Derry was recent, as Arlene managed to find a higher-paying job that could help her support her boys. Ben managed to get himself in trouble with the Bowers Gang, meaning that his brothers, defensive of him, also became targets. But they manage to find friends in the Losers Club, and with the whole gang together, nobody’s going to be able to hurt them... right?

The Marsh Girls

Karen “Karrie” Marsh - film!Bev

Hates her name, thinks it sounds like a middle-aged mom. Goes by Karrie which she thinks sounds cooler (and serves as another Stephen King reference)

Wants to do movie stunts as an adult, is the most daring and bold of the Losers Club, and also probably the physically strongest

Intensely protective of her sisters, especially due to their home situation

Brooke Marsh - miniseries!Bev

The sweetest little angel you will ever meet. Has never done anything wrong in her life

Wants to be a painter and is very artistic. Karrie has shoplifted her paint supplies before

The only one of her sisters to not smoke, as they refuse to let her near cigarettes

Beverly “Bev” Marsh - book!Bev

Technically the half-sister (stepsister?) of her older sisters, and can tell that her Mom doesn’t seem to care for her sisters much. She loves them, though, and won’t stand for people insulting them

Quite the fashion designer, and even though the family is poor, she’s been making sure they don’t look like shit since she could choose her own clothes

Probably the most manipulative of the Losers, though this has its advantages, such as when they need to get out of trouble.

Giant Lesbian, definitely marries Kay McCall

Karrie and Brooke have lived under the hate of their father for a while, due to the fact that he blames them for their mother’s death; Karrie brought home a virus from daycare that infected their mother, weakening her enough that labor with Brooke killed her. Karrie tends to get the most shit for this, mainly because Brooke gets along more with their stepmother, Elfrida. Elfrida married their father only a few months following their mother’s death, mainly due to the fact that Al got her pregnant. The family is quite poor, and the parents work quite a lot, meaning the sisters have gotten pretty good at fending for themselves.

Recently, the girls have started to get more fears about their father than just physical abuse- he’s been acting weird around Karrie and Bev, and while Brooke seems to avoid his eye for the time being, she has been quite hurt by his violent outbursts. Karrie’s secretly been saving up to take her sisters away before he can do anything to them, though she’s not sure how to tell Brooke and Bev, as they don’t even understand what they’re supposed to be afraid of. But while they’re in Derry, they end up finding themselves among the Losers Club, on a mission to save the children of the town by killing a monster that lives in the sewers. That won’t be much of a problem; they have much worse monsters at home.

The Kaspbrak Boys

Chase Kaspbrak - film!Eddie

Somehow simultaneously the most paranoid and most reckless boy in the world

He’s really into analysis and predicting events

Can and Will fight you, but he will be bitching about it the entire time

Otto Kaspbrak - miniserires!Eddie

11, Eddie’s older twin

Incredibly stubborn and snarky, but also the most loyal Loser and the most sincere

Has an interest in mechanics and repair, and when his mom’s not looking he’ll take things apart to find out how they work

Edward “Eddie” Kaspbrak - book!Eddie

11, Otto’s younger twin

Very adaptable and adventurous, though he has a lot of anxiety at times

Special Interest in cars, wants to be a driver as an adult

Able to find direction no matter where they are, and his gift of coordination has helped the Losers numerous times

There will absolutely be a car chase scene where he has to drive

Chase is the only Kaspbrak who really remembers their father, being seven when he died instead of his brothers’ five. He seems to recall them not being so sick back then, though his Mother claims otherwise, and their father being a good, playful man. But he’s not here now, and their mother, Sonia, is paranoid about everything. Her boys are very weak and sick and can’t do much, and she hates that they have such rough, rude friends that must be corrupting them somehow.

The boys, however, are much more adventurous and capable than Sonia believes- especially Chase, who has actually won more than one fight, mostly on behalf of his brothers. As the eldest, Chase believes he has to protect Otto and Eddie, whether it be from a bunch of school bullies, a killer clown in the sewers, or their own mother. Also, Chase and Eddie are gay as hell and Otto is demi-gay as fuck.

The Hanlon Boys

Daniel “Danny” Hanlon - film!Mike

14, the oldest of the Losers

He’s actually the cousin of Orel and Mike; he recently moved in with his aunt and uncle after the death of his parents in a house fire. He’s pretty traumatized from the incident

Wants more than anything to travel and explore the world, meet new people and see everything there is to see, and being stuck in boring, bigoted Derry is pretty much hell for him

He is very protective of his cousins and friends, though, and is the one who believes the most in their ability to triumph over Pennywise

Orel Hanlon - miniseries!Mike

Incredibly excitable and very optimistic, as well as incredibly bookish. As such, he tends to infodump whether people want to hear him or not

Super into cartography, and collects old, antique maps as well as making his own pretty much wherever they go

Really into gruesome horror stuff and doesn’t understand why it scares and/or grosses out other people.

Michael “Mike” Hanlon - book!Mike

Incredibly watchful and steadfast, and the Loser with perhaps the most emotional stability

He’s a lil Historian whose greatest desire is to work for the library and get to read as many books as he wants

Just. really fucking loves his dog

Orel and Mike don’t go into town much, mainly staying on their farm with their loving parents and spending their time with the farm animals; Mike is closest to their watchdog, but Orel loves being among the sheep. In the last few months, their cousin Danny moved in with them, and their relationship is... a bit awkward. Orel is too blunt and Mike is too curious, and they don’t know how to carefully approach the subject of his parents burning to death in front of him without making him feel worse.

It doesn’t help that Danny hates Derry; it’s bigoted, it’s tiny, it’s in the middle of nowhere, and people are dying left and right. However, once his cousins convince him to come hang out with their friends, he ends up bonding with the other Losers of the town, even though they’re all a bunch of weird white kids. And though the Hanlons don’t deal much with town business, they’re ready to join in the fight to stop Pennywise from killing anyone else.

The Tozier Triplets

Reynard “Reynie” Tozier - film!Richie

12, the firstborn of the triplets

Loudmouthed, rude, impulsive and very crass, mainly to hide his crippling self-doubt and fears of being ostracized

Super good at video games and says he wants to be a professional gamer, though honestly he’s just really interested in stand-up comedy

Gay as all fuck

Roderick “Rod” Tozier - minseries!Richie

12, the middle of the triplets

While he’s just as hyperactive as his triplets, he’s a bit more controlled and actually the least raunchy, meaning Reynie and Richie joke that he’s not using his name correctly

Wants to be a voice actor for cartoons like Looney Tunes, and is actually getting decent at impersonating the RoadRunner.

Richard “Richie” Tozier - book!Richie

12, the youngest of the triplets

Pretty wild and uncontrollable, energized as all hell, and makes off-color jokes to piss people off and get attention, though he does have a true heart for his friends

Wants to have his own radio show in the future. Was the first to befriend the Marsh girls, because he and Bev would share cigarettes during recess

Bi as all fuck

The Tozier triplets are a trio of ADHD disasters and nobody in Derry can or will ever forget it. Reynie and Rod tend to “big brother” Richie, meaning they tend to end up slapping him upside the head for saying something insensitive, though sometimes Reynie says something a bit too impulsively as well. They used to do different voices to entertain each other, meaning it’s a bit of an interest for all of them. While Reynie tends to lean more towards comedy, though, Rod wants to be a voice actor for cartoons like Looney Tunes, and Richie hopes to be some kind of radio personality.

Their parents mean well but are often at work, and even at home they don’t quite understand their boys, so the triplets are pretty used to relying on each other. Reynie kinda has the least parental affection, as Rod and Richie tend to get into even more shit than he does, so he kinda falls to the wayside. His isolation tends to manifest in fears of abandonment and loneliness- and a public outing resulting in such, starting when he started to realize that he maybe didn’t like girls as much as he said he did. Rod and Richie, meanwhile, also have vague fears of outing, though Pennywise represents their bisexuality as werewolfism- always transforming in painful and terrifying ways.

The Uris Boys

Mason Uris - film!Stan

Very cautious, but definitely not the Mom friend; he will inform you how shitty your idea is, but will not stop you, and in fact will grab popcorn to watch

Loves studying art history and different art forms, though he doesn’t want to create them himself, just catalogue them. He likes to entertain Isaac and Brooke by “critiquing” their “fabulous” artwork

The only one of his siblings who doesn’t get along with their parents

Peter Uris - miniseries!Stan

12, almost 13

Incredibly logical and has the most anxiety. Is the last one to believe in the clown just because it doesn’t fit into his worldview

While all the boys love birdwatching, he’s the one who’d like to go into it as a profession; he loves ornithology and wants to study birds for the rest of his life

Stanley “Stan” Uris - book!Stan

Loves to have things in order, and doesn’t really know how to interact with people socially, because people don’t act in predictable ways.

Super good at mathematics and hopes to be an engineer or accountant

Has the weirdest sense of humor, which means he is the best

The Urises are one of the few Jewish families in town, and in a bigoted town like Derry, that means they were pretty much outcasted from the getgo. They are all relatively close with each other, in that they’ll argue nonstop but also would die for each other without question. Peter and Stan probably get along the best, as they’ll sit and talk about birds until they pass out, while Mason likes to sit in his room and read his books on famous artists. Mason also has a bit more of a strained relationship with his parents, while his brothers get along with them much better.

The boys refused to believe in Pennywise for the longest time, as they’re all very logical and orderly and “magic alien clown eating kids by turning into their fears” doesn’t exactly fit into their normal worldview. But they’re going to stick by their friends and do their best to protect themselves and the town... and, well, if the way to kill the clown is by bullying him to death, they have a shitton of insults they’ve been saving for a special occasion.

#it #it 2017 #it 2019 #it chapter one #it chapter two #it book #it 1990 #triple the losers au #mine #losers club au #it au

18 notes · View notes