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hey-heigo · 1 year ago

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Chapter 3

houghhh

SEE HERE FOR GENERAL WARNINGS AND FIC SUMMARY

Some pre-chapter notes:

Chapter alternatively titled 'Sayaka's plan delayed because Makoto decided to introduce Byakuya to Shin Ramyun.' Sorry Sayaka this scene was too funny to take out.

This Byakuya is a lot less antagonistic than canon Byakuya. But mostly because he's too busy dealing with some other stuff to worry about being the biggest asshole on the block.

He's also an unreliable narrator. Not just because he's blind here, but also because his thinking pattern is sometimes wildly out of the realm of usual logic, thanks to his upbringing.

Content warning tags: mild panic moment (I hesitate to call it a panic attack because I did not write this with that in mind, but Byakuya gets spooked by the lights going out and feels vulnerable)

< previous - from start - next >

Against his better judgment, he lets Naegi lead him to the cafeteria.

The halls are more or less empty, but some people are occupying a table when they arrive. He watches the dark-brown dollop of Asahina's head bob up as they walk in, and sees Ogami raise one of her heavy arms to wave. "Hey Makoto! And-" Asahina cuts off suddenly as she sees Byakuya behind him.

He’s not surprised by the sudden aversion. He hadn’t exactly been trying to put himself in the good graces of everyone around him. But he hears Ogami say "Byakuya," in polite acknowledgement, so he jerks his head back in a stiff nod.

"Hi, Hina. Hi, Sakura." Makoto greets back warmly. "Is there any soup left?"

"Well, it's just a little bit. It was really good, so we came back for seconds...and also thirds. And I think so did a few other people." She gives a sheepish laugh. "Sorry, if we knew you wanted any, we would have saved some more."

It takes Byakuya a moment to realize she's addressing him. "...It's fine." It's not like he was planning on eating from the same pot as everyone else, definitely not tonight when tensions were so high.

"What are you guys still doing here anyways? I thought everyone would be back in their rooms by now."

"I got antsy just waiting in my room, so I came out here to have some tea until curfew. Sakura happened to be here at the same time, so we figured he'd hang out together." How casual. That easy-going attitude was bound to get her killed if she wasn't careful. "Oh yeah. Sayaka came by a little earlier for some water."

“O-oh, really?” There’s a note of relief in his voice that was so pathetic it was almost funny, if Byakuya was in the mood to laugh. “I’m glad, she was really shaken up earlier. Thanks for letting me know!"

"Remember! Ishimaru said it's unwholesome to stay in opposite-sex dorms!" Asahina calls after him in a teasing lilt as they walk towards the kitchen, and Makoto stumbles, stammers something in denial in reply, and then picks up his pace, the back of his neck turning obviously pink.

Byakuya snorts when he notices. As if what Asahina was teasing about would ever happen; even with his reduced senses, he was well aware of Maizono's relation with Naegi from their interactions during morning meetings, and how that girl was jerking him around like a fish on a hook. The only person too stupid to realize that was the fish himself.

He pauses suddenly, standing in the middle of the kitchen. Maizono was someone who was deceitfully innocent, and a dangerous person to be around. The way she subtly took over during morning meetings with her polite, pretty demeanor and gentle gestures wasn't something that had escaped him. Sure, it was likely that Makoto was of the same type as her, deceptively clever and disingenuous in his friendliness, but he was also dancing in her palm. The two went to the same middle school, Byakuya had overheard, and Makoto was clearly nursing a crush on someone out of his league.

And yet, here was that girl, beyond his reach, playing at being his friend, sticking to his side. Right after the revealing of the first motive, she had been the first one to run from the room in a fit of anguish; there wasn't any doubt in Byakuya's mind that she was probably one of the most desperate to leave right now. And someone clever enough to actually have a chance at succeeding.

"Byakuya? What are you doing?"

"...Nothing." He says shortly. And moves to stand behind where Naegi was crouching, in front of a low pantry shelf stuffed with a mess of colored packaging.

"These are the instant meals. It's mostly noodles, but a lot of it is pretty high-end stuff. There's also some microwave stuff for curry and rice, and this Italian-rice thing...ri...rizz-oh-doh? I think?"

"'Risotto.'" Byakuya corrects him.

"Right, right. There's also ingredients for a sandwich or something. And I think there's some chicken nuggets in the freezer, too..." He must have seen the look of disgust on Byakuya's face, because he hurriedly says: "But, probably not that, right?"

None of it sounded particularly appealing to Byakuya. But he was hungry, and it wasn't like he'd never eaten commoner staples before. "Anything is fine. Pick for me."

"Wait, really?"

"Yes. I don't care." He waves his hand dismissively. "Ah, but if I don't like it, then I'll be suing you as soon as we get out of here for attempted poisoning."

He smiles inwardly as Naegi sputters, fumbling the packets in his hands. He doubted that there were any good sources of poison here, and trying to concoct something completely undetectable out of the few resources available to them was highly improbable. Besides, after enough assassination attempts, he had a decent tolerance for most poisons and was capable at detecting most of them, so he doubted such a thing would actually kill him; though as it was, he resolved to watch Naegi closely through every step of the cooking process.

"Here-um, how about this one?" The boy holds up a packet, black with red accents. "This one's pretty popular. Its flavor is spicy, uh...puh...pot aow fool?"

"...It's pronounced 'pot-au-feu', you half-witted buffoon." Byakuya rolls his eyes with a scoff. "I'm not sure how you've lived this long without a lick of French."

Naegi just chuckles awkwardly, sounding abashed. "Well...whatever it's called, I think it tastes pretty good. And it's supposed to have bone broth in it, which is supposed to be healthy? I'm pretty sure, at least." He stands up with the packet, and holds it out in Byakuya's direction.

"...What?" Byakuya asks, bemused. "Don't tell me you expect me to prepare this myself."

All he gets is stunned silence. If he had to guess, Naegi was probably confused, and Byakuya sighs, exasperated.

"All my food is prepared for me," He says, slowly, like explaining it to a child. "I'm not sure how you peasants have to deal with fending for yourself in that regard, but I have never had to prepare anything for myself in my entire life."

"...So, you don't know how to make instant noodles?"

"...I never said that." Even at his lowest points, he had never had to worry about going hungry. That had always been someone else’s concern. "But 'knowing' and 'doing' are entirely different things, you know."

"It's just boiling water and the noodles, though. And adding the flavoring packet."

"I fail to see the point you're trying to make."

Naegi makes a small sound, something between a sigh and a chuckle, and Byakuya feels irritation flare up, his ears beginning to warm. "Don't look at me like that."

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry. Here, I'll make it for you."

He hovers over Naegi's shoulder the whole time, watching him do everything from boil the water to opening the noodles, but also chopping up green onions and cracking an egg (which, as he explained to Byakuya's questioning, was how he preferred to eat his noodles, though he could leave them out if he wanted. Byakuya decided to leave it). "Do you want chili-garlic oil in it? Junko added a lot to tonight's dish earlier, but it was actually a little too spicy for me."

"No. I'm not interested." Byakuya replies, before suddenly finding himself feeling irritated at having a similar preference as Naegi, of all people.

The end result is a rather hefty bowl, fragrant and swimming with color. Despite it being just a hastily whipped-up dish of cheap, scattered ingredients, Byakuya finds his mouth watering at the mere smell. Naegi hands him a pair of chopsticks.

"We should probably carry that to your room. It'll be ten o'clock soon." Naegi says, and Byakuya nods as he accepts the utensils, wrapping them in a napkin and placing them in his pocket. They click against the screwdriver, and suddenly he’s reminded of the situation they’re in.

He frowns, curling his hand around the handle. It’d be pointless to try and stab Naegi hare, but for a moment he had been forgetting himself. Forgetting the wariness he should be practicing at all times.

"Carry it for me." He orders, and Naegi, perhaps used to hearing his commands at this point, picks up the bowl without protest, holding it delicately between his hands. "If you spill, you're cleaning it up."

"Yeah, yeah, I know..."

He follows the shorter boy out of the kitchen. Asahina and Sakura are still there, though in the process of cleaning up and leaving - they wave as Naegi passes, and Byakuya ignores them - and then they're out of the cafeteria, walking in the direction of the dorms.

And it should have been - would have been - all fine, if the lights in the hallway hadn't suddenly dimmed in preparation for the nightly curfew. Immediately, Byakuya's vision drops, the colors washed out by gray, and even Naegi's movements become vague and less obvious besides him, blending in with their surroundings as just a slightly darker blot on the monochrome background. It's not as if the lights had gone completely out, or if his vision had been completely obscured; but for an instant, Byakuya has the irrational feeling of being entirely, totally alone.

Before he can stop himself, Byakuya's hand reaches out, and his fingers hook into the soft fabric of the other boy's hood.

"U-uh? What?"

Naegi stops in his tracks, and he turns, the cheap cotton dragging through Byakuya's fingers. "Byakuya? Is something wrong?"

He can't respond. That brief moment of anxiety was still thrumming through his veins, and he finds himself unable to speak, still working through the sudden burst of dread. Every single morning, he had woken up and found himself afraid to open his eyes, worried that his vision had worsened overnight, and every morning he found himself both relieved and disgusted when there was no change. He thought he had gotten used to it, at this point, adapted to it, and hidden it well, but…

That clearly wasn't the case. The sudden plunge into darkness had brought him back to when he first woke up in this twisted school, blind and helpless and stumbling. Utterly alone.

"Byakuya, hey. I'm right here."

Something warm presses against his front. It’s Naegi, leaning into his chest. He can feel the shorter man’s hair rustling against his shirt. "Take a deep breath, okay? I'm right here."

Deep breath? He acts as if Byakuya was panicking, which was preposterous. And the assumption that his presence was comforting was stupid and absurd. "I'm fine." He says, but his voice sounds rougher than he intends.

"Yeah, I know." Naegi replies, and his voice is soft, and a balm on Byakuya's nerves. "I'm gonna walk towards your room, okay? You can keep holding onto my hood."

"I don't need to," He mutters back, but it's a useless protest. His hand stays wrapped in the hood of Naegi's jacket as they start moving again, this time slower than before.

The screwdriver is still in his pocket. Byakuya closes his eyes, letting everything fall to complete darkness, and finds he can still hear the sound of Naegi's breath, calm and repetitive.

"We're here."

He opens his eyes, and reaches out to his left, his hand meeting the wooden plane of his door. He releases Naegi's jacket to fish the key out of his pocket, and it only takes him two tries before he manages to slot it into the keyhole, and he pushes his way inside.

Here, the lights are on, and it's a relief to be able to recognize things again, however murky. He turns just in time to catch Naegi, once more a mass of earthy colors, setting the bowl on his nightstand with a quiet sound.

"Wait," And again, he was acting before he was thinking, before he could stop himself. It was something that was unbecoming of him, something that should only be done by the primitive and uncivilized, and yet he couldn't feel disgusted about it just yet. "Makoto."

The forest-colored shape stops at the door. "Yeah?"

"Stay." It's meant to be an order, but it doesn't sound like one, not even to himself, too soft and desperate and pleading. But Naegi turns away from the door at least, and Byakuya lets out the breath he didn't know he'd been holding. "We need to talk."

The insufferable commoner makes him eat first, before talking. Makes him sit on the edge of the bed with the bowl in his lap (because for some preposterous reason, their rooms all lacked chairs, of all things), and tells him to eat as much as he can, and he'll be back soon, he needs to 'go check on Sayaka, she'd been asking after me earlier...'

That woman is using you, Byakuya's tempted to say. But instead, all he said was: "Hurry up, then. Don't leave me waiting." Before the door shuts behind him, and he was gone.

It was rather infuriating. For once, Byakuya had made a request (he won't call it a plea, because he never made pleas, not even for his own life) - and that senseless, dim-witted fool had prioritized her over him. As if Byakuya wasn't the smarter of the two options, the one who could offer more, anything - the one Naegi should have been trying to get into the good graces of, as he had been earlier. And yet, all it took was a foolish, half-formed infatuation with Maizono, and now Byakuya was alone again.

At least the food was decent. It was salty, certainly, and a little overpowering in the spices, but it was warm and filling and acceptable enough, and he finished it surprisingly quickly. After which point, Naegi still hadn't returned, and with nothing else to do he took it upon himself to start preparing for bed.

It's as he's brushing his teeth, and staring at the yellow smudge of his head in the mirror, that he realizes the deplorable state he'd fallen into. First he let Naegi, of all people, wheedle him away from the safety of his room to go eat of all things, and furthermore, he let that peasant prepare his food in the middle of a killing game. Then, as if that wasn't enough, he put on that trembling, pathetic display in the hallway, freezing up just because the lights went out, like a child-

And then, letting Naegi help him. Letting him offer that simple, stupid reassurance, and then feeling comforted by it. By that ugly, underhanded pity that Byakuya hated so much.

It disgusts him so much he could puke.

It's this cursed blindness, he thinks, and not for the first time, he presses fingers to his closed eye, a pointless motion. If it weren't for this, he wouldn't be so helpless, so dependent, and so easily manipulated by such cheap tactics. If it weren't for this, his existence as a Togami wouldn't be as perilous as it is now.

He needed to resolve this as soon as possible. By any means possible.

I can't let him get the better of me again.

< previous - from start - next >

#thpff #thpff chapters #danganronpa fanfiction #danganronpa thh

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cutealienenby · 2 years ago

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making a note for therapy.

I was thinking about how I have experienced the effects of trauma throughout my life, wondering about ptsd symptoms and whether or not it applies (it probably does I've just never had a therapist say the words to me). one symptom listed is nightmares, and I do have a clear memory of one time when my best friend slept over and I woke her with a nightmare I was having about (abusive person). that train of thought seemed to unlock related memories about my trouble with sleepovers during middle school. I would wake up in the middle night, regardless of whose house I was at, and go to the bathroom to conceal my panic attacks. One time it was so severe that I vomited and had to be picked up. Remembering this was one experience to note, but the other is that as I was remembering this, as soon as the memories of those midnight panic attacks came up, my brain shut down like someone pulled the plug on a desktop PC. I went from having a curious investigatory train of thought to falling numb, limp, and mind blank almost immediately. I felt so heavy and disconnected from the present it almost felt like I was falling asleep. Idk how long I stayed that way and eventually I came out of it, and it spooked me enough that I came here to write it down. But as soon as I got to the part of the post about the panic attacks, I felt the shutdown feeling again. I had to sort of switch off the physical and emotional sensors in me and put myself in this purely intellectual state to be able to write about it. Somehow I feel this is what happens during the few therapy sessions where I am able to discuss traumatic events in any detail-- I switch off everything but the facts-processing and recite them like it's an oral history test. Even my therapist commented on it once-- she asked me how it felt to tell the story I had told, and expressed surprise when I said I was overwhelmed by emotion. I imagine now that this was true, just not expressed in the typical way. Instead of being overwhelming within the tolerable amount manageable through crying, fidgeting, etc, it was so overwhelming that I chose not to feel anything at all.

#I just reread the post and you can tell exactly where this switch happens because the writing style and syntax literally changes.#personal #trauma recovery

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verecunda · 7 years ago

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Revising ought to be enjoyable. Your work is no longer a mountain toppling over you: it is under your hard. Your theme has proved feasible, has shaped up; crisis and climax are in their places; your characters have life in them, you know what your reactions would and would not be. You work in confidence, no longer apprehensive that your plot will prove unmanageable or that your characters will refuse to function or that your theme will turn out to have no play in it after all.

The Uninvited, Dorothy Macardle

#The Uninvited #Dorothy Macardle #what is writing #current mood #so satisfying #:)#came for the spook stayed for the relatable writing feels

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chidoroki · 4 years ago

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TPN - “Dreams Come True”

What better way to cheer up the TPN fandom after the second season’s final episode than with the special exhibition chapter finally being fully translated. I caught glimpses of a few pages here and there over the past couple months but seeing all the children live happily together in the human world in their own little village that they made close to Emma and Alex warms my heart. Of course I would’ve loved if we got to see more of the GP Resistance (because the anime denied us of them) but following the GF kids around the world as they experience their dreams is fair enough. We started the series alongside them so might as well finish strong with them too. I really loved seeing everyone grow up but no matter how old they get or how much time passes, I’ll probably never get used to seeing Emma without her iconic “63194.” It’s a bittersweet feeling for me, but her smiles bring me so much joy and I’m beyond happy that she accepted everyone into her life as they accepted her without her memories.

I haven’t a clue on how much time passed since everyone found Emma in ch181 to now, but seeing her call out everyone’s names is a little detail that I love so much considering she had no idea who anyone was at first. Trying to remember 60+ names doesn’t seem like an easy task to me. No doubt I was just as shocked as our girl upon learning these mere children bought a goddamn plane! We learn in a couple pages that it’s because of Norman’s company that they can afford it, but still, he’s like 15 or 16 now? He’s still a child! And I’m impressed! Not only at him, but that Oliver and Violet became pilots as well! It’s especially cute when you remember that Lucas gave Oliver a little toy plane during their time at Goldy Pond.

Speaking of GP, is it just me or does Emma’s current outfit resemble her GP one just a little bit? Sure we have no idea what color scheme this one has but come on, the short jacket, the dark shirt and jeans.. just imagine it! Jemima, Yvette, Alicia and Mark remade Gillian’s original GP outfit sometime before the Grace Field Raid arc (ch137 extra page) so I don’t doubt they could’ve done the same for Emma. Of course that’s just me being completely hopeful and missing the Goldy Pond arc to death but yeah! I’m also so happy to see Chris up and moving again! Seeing him wake up briefly in ch181 was nice but this is so much better. I imagine he and Emma have a lot to catch up on in terms of stories, with him being unconscious since ch105 and Emma not remembering anything.

But here we go, the original 15 escapees plus Norman, Phil, Sherry, I believe I saw Carol somewhere and a couple other random kiddos ready to see the entire world. They get to accomplish so much.. and in a single day too I believe? At least that’s what Phil and Alicia say a bit later about everyone’s wishes, but aahh what a lucky bunch. Hell, I’ll say we’re lucky readers too to be able to see such a great story. Can’t thank Shirai and Demizu enough y’all. I wish we got to see more of Alex though. He’s such a kind soul but I’m sure he’ll be just fine staying behind with everyone else.

This entire page where we learn about Norman as a CEO is gold. I still can’t believe this child successfully built up an entire multipurpose company not only to help their search for Emma but also because he didn’t want to live off the Ratri clan. I wish I knew about this last week when writing out Norman’s birthday post because hell yeah this deserves some praise! AND he managed to graduate school as well during all that! Well, by skipping grades which totally makes sense. I mean, if he managed to pass all the Grace Field and Lambda tests effortlessly I’m sure normal human world school was a piece of cake for him. Holy shit dude, keep on impressing me why don’t ya. Not only him but Nigel and Sonya too! I’m not surprised that Vincent helped out but I’m glad those two got a tiny moment to shine as well! Ray is another obvious choice when it comes to helping Norman, as they’re best friends and he’s always been good with machines.. but boy, I can’t take you seriously when you’re just sitting there unamused and eating chips! Hahah I love him so much! And the fact he replies to Norman’s idea with just a simple “kay” is an eternal mood.

Okay boys aside, can we talk about our fabulous girls now? Because oh my god, they’re so darn beautiful! They’re more fashionable than I’ll ever be and it’s so cute how they drag Emma along to take advantage of the 3-for-1 deal. But our girl pulls off that sporty look so well! (r.i.p. goldy pond outfit ver2.0). I’m not at all surprised that Nat wanted to go see the opera. That's perfect for him and I’d like to think the anime did something similar with that one shot we see of him in the human world. We don’t see him in a theater like this but to me it looks like he’s on the streets of Broadway? At least that’s the vibe I get from it. I’m sure there was something music related on one of those signs.

I can’t get over how adorable all the children look and how happy they are fulfilling their wishes, even if some of them aren’t as extravagant as others. Like eating a fluffy pancake and a ton of ice cream? We can do that whenever we want. But for these kids, it means everything and they absolutely deserve to experience such simple joys like that after all the harsh nonsense they’ve been through. I also love how Ray continues to be such a great older brother by still looking out for them too. The fact he remains completely unfazed by the haunted house is perfect. This boy has been haunted by his own nightmares and demons his entire life, there’s no way a couple of lousy jump scares are gonna spook him. Though I do find it funny that Alicia and Rossi still manage to get scared while Yvette is having the time of her life. I can’t help but laugh at Thoma’s “Shirai face” as well.

I find it interesting that out of all the different kinds of exhibits they could’ve shown us while Rossi visits a museum, they give us dinosaurs.. like that seems so silly to me. Y’all have seen several demons in your young lives already and yet dinosaurs manage to amaze you too? God these kids are precious. And then our boy Phil finally gets to see and ride a train! Just look how happy he is! The poor kid can’t even sit still he’s so darn excited and I can’t help but smile with him! Thankfully the anime showed us this too.

We eventually get to Ray’s wish and guys.. oh my fucking god. Tell me that this is not the absolute best and prettiest smile we get to see from him!! It honestly leaves me speechless okay? Ray never imagined he would ever get to see the outside world, let alone live past the age of 12, and yet here he is, seeing such a beautiful sight such as this, right in front of him instead of from inside a book. You can’t believe how happy and proud of him I am right now. Did you see how ecstatic I was when the anime kept Isabella alive? Multiply that feeling by ten and there ya go. That’s my level of happiness upon seeing my favorite boy smile like THAT! AAHHH!! That panel is gonna live rent free in my head until the end of time. I can’t get over how damn perfect it is. His smile is so pure and how he looks like he’s in complete awe is beautiful. He’s about to burst into tears and I swear I might do the same because I’m making myself emotional over this fantastic boy. Someone hold me.

No seriously, hold me because we’re about to get into some angst as we move onto to Emma’s wish. We all know that ever since 2039 her one dream was to ride a giraffe once they got outside, so here we are, about ten years later and the animals in question are within reach. Our girl should be totally excited, right? Ha, not quite.

That wish was something the old Emma wanted, but since demon god had to be such a bastard, this Emma doesn’t know what to think, let alone what to even feel. She hasn’t experienced the same hardships as her family. She hasn’t gone through hell and back while holding onto that one wish that would make all the suffering worth it. The amount of joy everyone else felt upon living out their dreams, she wonders if she would be able to feel it too.

They brought her here to make her happy, but is this truly want she wants as well? This is old Emma’s wish after all. What about her and what she wants? Could this wish make her just as happy as her old self? She knows her family is only trying to help, but seeing her doubt herself does a number on my heart. Even without her memories, she’s still the same Emma deep down, as she doesn’t want to disappoint her family. She spends so much time worrying about living up to her family’s expectations, to try and be that Emma they all love so dearly.

Little does she know that she acts the exact same as usual, almost as if nothing has changed when she finally expresses how much she wants to ride a giraffe. And that’s great considering when they first arrived at the giraffes, no on had even mentioned riding them. She came across that feeling all on her own and everyone else can’t help but laugh and feel relieved. Her mind may have forgotten but her heart remembers everything. There is no “old Emma” and “new Emma” to her family, just “Emma” and words can’t express how wholesome that is because they love her regardless. All that matters to them is Emma’s happiness because if anyone deserves to feel and experience that, it’s her.

I just made myself tear up, damn it. I started this series with season one okay? I heard about this precious girl’s dream within the first minute of the first episode and here I am, a little bit over two years later, finally reading about it coming true and seeing that bright as hell smile on her face. Do you know how amazing it is to come full circle like that? My heart feels so full right now. I’m beyond proud of her and love her to death. Say what you want but I believe this to be the true manga ending in my eyes.

(damn this series for always getting me emotional)

#the promised neverland #tpn manga #tpn norman #tpn ray #tpn emma #norman #ray #emma #chidoroki used chatter

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troubatrain · 4 years ago

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sober - m. barzal (pt. six)

a/n: so after the hell week we all survived in the good ol’ USA my brain finally decided to let me actually write. tbh i wrote this about four times before i forced myself to just finish it and stop tweaking it.

Five

Mat’s kitchen looked like a tornado had run through it. The usually pristine, absolutely untouched kitchen of the young bachelor was getting more use in the twenty minutes Mat had been awake than it ever had. Truthfully, Mat wasn’t a morning person. Mat slept like a rock, and he thought there was nothing besides the fear of his coach that could get him up earlier than noon, but he was wrong. You had him up before eight, hoping if he could beat you to waking up you wouldn’t have a chance to sneak out on him. He did, opening his eyes to catch you snoring softly beside him. He laid there for a moment, his eyes on you because he almost in disbelief you actually stayed. It was a moment of peace, the complete opposite of the mess you’d both gotten yourselves into. For the first time in his life, he wasn’t debating how he was going to get someone to leave, he was figuring out how he was going to get you to stay.

Mat was an absolute whore, and he didn’t care one bit. Why should he? He was young, he was at the top of his game, and his ego got a little bigger everyday. He was just as guilty as you were when it came to his lack of commitment. Mat had never been able to be a good boyfriend, no matter how hard he tried - so he just stopped trying. His schedule wasn’t made for dating, and he never wanted to put the work in. You were different. Something clicked in Mat when he realized how enraged his body felt hearing DeAngelo talk about you the way he did. He was going to let it go, and in hindsight maybe he should have, but he didn’t want to. That protective feeling took over his body because it was too strong for him to shove back down before it got out.

Mat would have told you he loved you after that game, because he does, but he knew he was playing a dangerous game. The reality of what would happen if this was real scared him, but not nearly as much as he knew it had to scare you. You had something to lose, a life that Mat just wouldn’t be apart of. Mat wasn’t in a position to ask you to give that up, especially for someone who you weren’t even dating. Mat knew if he moved too quickly you’d get spooked and run away without giving Mat a second thought. He’d disappear from your memory like everyone before him.

Mat’s thoughts were broken by the sound of your feet padding into his kitchen, your arms wrapping around his waist while you pressed a kiss to his back, “Hi pretty girl.”

This was uncharted territory, the morning after. You’d always been an expert, leaving yourself enough time to sneak out and leave before anyone would notice you were gone. That kept your heart safe, free from the feelings that were present in this very moment. You couldn’t have left last night, slipping out of Mat’s bed and into a cab in the middle of the night, but something stopped you, “Do you actually know what you’re doing?”

“I thought I’d try to make you breakfast,” Mat admits, a smile on his face while he turned off the stove, eggs forgotten to look at you, “I’ll get better at it, I promise, breakfast can be my thing.”

“Your thing?” You muse, letting Mat gently push you onto the island, standing between your legs.

“Yeah, when we fall in love or whatever, I’ll make breakfast,” Mat chuckles, pressing a quick kiss to your lips.

“You’ve lost your damn mind Barz,” You sigh, leaning your head on Mat’s shoulder while you savored the last few moments of peace you were feeling. You were going to have leave his place, off to a four game road trip where Mat was free to fuck whoever he wanted.

Mat’s finger was gently gliding over your face, “If I’m crazy it’s because you made me crazy.”

“You were insane before I met you,” You defend not daring to open your eyes and meet Mat’s gaze, “And now you’re just annoying.”

“I don’t remember being annoying when you were begging me to fuck you last night,” Mat counters back, hands moving to your bare thighs, the warmth from his hands was a stark contrast from the cool counter, “If I’m correct it sounded something like Mat please.”

“Don’t push your luck Mat,” You threaten, his impersonation of you from the night before stopping almost immediately.

“Would I push it if I asked you to stay until my flight later?” Mat asks, eyes full of hope while he tries to hang onto the moment just a little bit longer.

“If you never talk about it again,” You nod, deciding that the damage was already done. You were so far gone a few more hours couldn’t hurt you anymore.

“We can talk about how fucking good you look in orange and blue though,” Mat teases, a grin on his face. You furrow your eyebrows, looking down and realizing just what shirt he had given you the night before. A bright white number thirteen in the corner, with an Islanders logo present on the front.

“Mat if you don’t take this off of me right this second.”

“You never have to ask me twice to take off your shirt babe.”

***

You leaned your head against the window of the private jet that definitely cost more for one flight than your entire salary, taking a deep breath and a break from the laundry list of emails you were due to answer. You were flying to St. Louis for the All Star Game, your plans of a week long vacation somewhere warm with some of the team and their significant others thrown out the door the second Chris stepped in for Panarin last minute. Not even two minutes later, Charlotte strutted over to your desk to tell you that without a need for someone to translate for Artemi, you were the new kid and that meant you had to suffer through the weekend while everyone else took their vacations.

“At least pretend to be excited,” Chris mutters next to you, taking a break from his own reading and elbowing you in the side.

“It’s hard to be excited when everyone’s on a beach and we’re flying to Missouri in January,” You snark back, pulling your glasses off your face and rubbing your eyes.

“You either need to start sleeping or stop hanging out with that secret boyfriend of yours,” Chris jokes, but it struck a nerve with you.

Mat wasn’t your boyfriend. Mat. Wasn’t. Your. Boyfriend. He didn’t get to have all of you, because he didn’t deserve it - no man does. Nothing about the very small amount of vulnerability that he got to see after that game meant anything. You left that morning and he went on a four game road trip and the world spun on. You could stop whenever you wanted to, move on with some other dumb boy who didn’t care more about you in clothes than without. But did you want to? That was a debate you’d been having with yourself for days.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” You grumble, gritting through your teeth. Technically, it wasn’t a total lie.

“So you are seeing someone!” Chris points out, as if your deliberate words were going to make it past him. Chris held most of the intelligence on the entire Rangers roster, and there was nothing that he didn’t pick up, “So, What's the deal? He doesn’t want anyone to know about you or you don’t want anyone to know about him.”

“It’s mutual,” You hum, sipping the coffee that had gone cold.

“Are you a sugar baby?” Chris questions, a cautious tone to his voice, “Not that I think there’s anything wrong with it or anything-”

“No I haven’t found a sugar daddy,” You roll your eyes, waiving Chris and sparing him the lecture that there’s nothing wrong with the idea at all, “We’re just in a limbo.”

“For what it’s worth,” Chris says, taking a deep breath before he finished his thought, “You seem happy, you haven’t snapped on Tony in almost a week.”

“Thanks Chris,” You laugh softly, popping a headphone back into your ear so you could finish up some work.

***

Mat was in absolute disbelief the moment he saw you step into the hotel lobby. You weren’t supposed to be in St. Louis, you were supposed to be on some island in a bikini making him wish he wasn’t good enough to be selected for the All Star game at all. Mat scratched his head for an answer as to why you didn’t mention the change of plans, but then the thing that he spent his entire roadie before he left for St. Louis entered his brain at full speed.

You’re not her boyfriend.

Mat owed you nothing, and you didn’t have to tell him anything you didn’t want to. Mat honestly knew about four things about you and all of them related to your job. He was dying to know everything, even the stuff that didn’t matter that much. Hell, Mat would’ve killed to see the inside of your apartment at this point. He just needed one thing, one thing that he could hold onto that you showed him that no one else got to see. He was sure he’d find it, especially after he finally got you to stay at his place, but now he was starting to think maybe he’d never crack you.

You were going to just avoid Mat like the plague. The hotel was swamped with players, their families, and any staff that had tagged along for the weekend. The city was still buzzing from last season’s Stanley Cup win and there was not a chance Mat wasn’t going to be busy all weekend, because Mat Barzal was an amazing hockey player. You hated to be reminded of it, because if you could have Mat feed you stupid compliments and never remind you of his job you’d be happy forever.

hotel sex is on the table

and you look fucking hot today

You roll your eyes, checking your phone while you were standing in line to check in. You look around the room, trying not to draw any attention to Mat who was giving you a shit eating grin from across the lobby. He looked good, a white button up tucked into suit pants that were doing his ass justice. You look at Chris, who was too engrossed in his own phone to even look back at you.

pretend like i don’t exist right now and we’ll talk

wanna play a game?

that didn’t go well for you last time Barzy

if i beat your buddy kreids tomorrow night you give me one night

you won’t

is that a yes?

fine

You turn around, giving Mat one last death stare to remind him you weren’t kidding on your plea to pretend you didn’t exist. Your job was important to you because you weren’t Mat. You weren’t going to get paid millions of dollars to play and then retire with a pretty penny in your pocket. You worked, and the stress of losing your job would definitely break you. Charlotte instilled fear in you like no other boss you ever had could, and if you got caught messing around with someone who played for another team while you were working she’d probably just fire you on the spot. Not to mention the heartbroken faces of your chosen family. Mat somehow existed in both a different and the same world as you. He understood your work life because it was so close to his, but he had his own work family and you had yours. No matter what, there would always be some sort of weird divide caused by that stupid rivalry. For now, it was just going to have to be something you’d worry about later.

***

You turned in the mirror of your hotel room, the lacy black lingerie set fit your body like a glove, and you were impressed with Mat’s taste given all he ever wore was sweatpants. You look in the corner of the room, the last piece of his little gift sitting in the box. Mat dropped it off earlier, a note on top telling you that when he inevitably smokes Chris in the faster skater competition he had something in mind. You weren’t surprised by his confidence, but you were surprised by the gift itself. Folded neatly in the box wasn’t just the lingerie, a bright blue and orange jersey was right underneath it, a shiny white number thirteen stitched into the back. You knew you didn’t have to wear it, because Mat wasn’t going to force you to do anything, but you were wet at just the thought of how animalistic Mat would probably get. You tossed on the jersey, throwing an even bigger sweatshirt and sweats over it before you snuck up to Mat’s floor- hoping Chris wouldn’t catch you leaving from the room across the hall.

You pull out the room key Mat gave you, sneaking into the door and locking it shut behind you. You slipped off your sweats, leaving you in nothing but the jersey and your panties.

“Fuck,” Mat dropped his phone from his hand the second you came into his view, “I didn’t think you’d wear it.”

“I wasn’t going to,” You muse, your confidence boosting while you strutted over to Mat. He had that effect on you, the ability to always make you feel like the sexiest woman in the world - even if you didn’t feel like were, “But then you beat McDavid.”

Mat pulled you between his legs while he sat on the edge of the bed, his hands toying with the jersey while he let the fabric slip through his fingers, “You look so fucking good in my jersey baby.”

“I’m proud of you Mat,” You purr into his ear, playing into Mat’s ego just a little bit. You were proud of him, and for the first time you wanted him to know. You pressed a kiss against his jaw, feeling his own breath hitch in his throat, “Can I show you?”

“Keep that jersey on and you can do whatever you want to me,” Mat admits, slipping his hand under the jersey and tapping your ass lightly.

“I’ll keep it on,” You giggle, pushing Mat on his back and getting to work. Your lips kissed down his chest with every button of his dress shirt you got undone, tossing it in the corner to be forgotten about until later. You unhooked his belt, leaving open mouth kisses just above his pants. You slid off his dress pants slowly, taking his boxers with them to let his cock spring free. Mat groaned at the sight, gathering your hair to pull it back for you.

“Wait,” Mat stops you, holding your hair back to stop you from putting your mouth on him. His finger traced your cheek, a look on his face you couldn’t quite read, “I just want to remember this, you look so beautiful right now.”

You could feel the heat rush your cheeks, Mat had called you to dozens of things but never once did the word beautiful ever slip through his lips, “You’re just saying that because I’m about to blow you.”

“No, baby, I mean it- fuck,” Mat groans, this thoughts halted by your mouth on his cock. His hips snapped up, hitting the back of your throat, “You’re so fucking good princess.”

You moan, hollowing your cheeks and gripping Mat’s thighs a little tighter, giving him the show you so desperately wanted. You head bobbed in a perfect rhythm, taking as much of Mat as your body could handle. Mat pushes your head back, taking a look at the line of spit that was still connected to his dick, your eyes were glassy and your throat was sore but Mat would keep you like that forever if he could, “Let me finish.”

“I’m in charge tonight,” Mat reminds you, the tone in his voice sent a chill up your spine. You knew Mat was rough, and a little demanding but he never crossed that line with you, “On your knees.”

“Like this?” You tease, sitting up on your knees to rile him up just a little bit more.

“More like this princess,” Mat stands behind you, gently pushing you down so your ass was in the air. He was quiet, bunching up his jersey so he could get a full view of the lingerie he went out and bought just for you, “Be good or I won’t let you cum pretty girl.”

Mat’s threat with a light smack to your ass, a moan escaping your lips. He slipped the black lace panties to the side, gliding one of his fingers against your folds while he pressed a kiss to your skin, “So wet for me already.”

“Only for you Mat,” The words tumbled out of your mouth, your eyes widening at your own confession.

Mat was thankful he was behind you, because if you saw the way his gaze changed from your words he’d never live it down. You looked so perfect, spread just for him. His jersey. His number. And in his own fantasy: his girl. He snapped himself back into reality, sliding into your pussy that was practically dripping in anticipation.

“Faster, fuck Mat please,” You whimpered out, trying to move yourself to get Mat to pick up the pace. He chuckled darkly, hips snapping back and forth until the only sound in the room was the string of curses leaving your mouth, “I’m close-”

Mat flipped you over before you could finish, his hand grabbing your chin and forcing you to look at him, “Tell me this pussy is mine.”

“Fuck I’m yours Mat,” You breath out, locking your eyes with his while it felt like time froze around you, “I’m yours.”

“Look at me when you cum baby,” Mat urges, his hand still gripping your chin. He picked up his place, making use of his other hand around your clit, “C’mon princess just for me.”

Your pussy fluttered around him, Mat letting out a groan while he tried to hold onto this moment for just a bit longer. He looked down at you, catching your breath from your own high. You hand snuck down to his cock, pumping it slowly, “Cum on me.”

Mat nods, letting you work on his dick with your hands while he nibbled at your neck. He was going to mark you up, make you remember who you belonged to because he so desperately wanted it to be him. He spilled onto your pussy, head pressed into your neck while he came down from his own high. You both laid there for a moment, your hand gently stroking Mat’s back while you both took a moment to think about what just happened. Mat was possessive in a way he’d never been before, and you ate it up without a second thought - that had to mean something right?

“I need to get back to my room,” you whisper, afraid to break the comfortable silence.

“I know,” Mat nods, finally picking his head up, “Keep the jersey, you might need it one day.”

“Your stupidity is honestly astounding,” You joke, brushing his hair out of his face while Mat’s face turned into a pout.

“Can I take you on a date?” Mat breathes out, hoping he wasn’t reading this the wrong way, “No games, no funny business, let me take you out.”

Say no. Say no and never call him again.

“One date,” You agree against your better judgement, pushing Mat away and looking around the room to find your sweats that you snuck into his room in, “Better make it a good one.”

Mat smiles, teeth on full display while he watched you slide your pants back on, “I’m the best at everything Y/N don’t forget that.”

“Goodnight Barz,” You tease, giving him one more look before you left his room.

The elevator ride down was quiet, most of the hotel’s occupants already asleep or still out partying the weekend away. For your sake, you hoped Chris would be fast asleep like the grandpa he was. You rushed down the hallway, Mat’s jersey still hanging loosely off your frame while you looked in your hand for your room key. Your search was stopped by a throat clearing behind you. You jump, turning around to see Chris’s eyes boring into you.

“You’ve got some explaining to do.”

#My writing #mat barzal #mat barzal imagine #nhl imagine

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lovelivingmydreams · 5 years ago

Text

The guy from the foodcourt

So @reddstardust made a few really cool doodles. And one made me want to write this. So show them some love as well! Enjoy!

This is part of this bigger story, first chapter here

Nico groaned in frustration and banged his head on the desk.

There were piles of discarded notes around him. Why was this so hard?

“Okay so change of medium didn’t help,” Félix relented. Nico could hear his creativity was getting frustrated as well, though he was trying to stay positive for his sake.

“All it did was desecrate some poor tree’s memory,” Alejo pointed out in dismay.

“I’ll recycle the paper,” Nico sighed. What to do?

“It’s cramped in here. And too dark,” Alejo complained trying in vain to get comfortable on the windowsill since there was literally nowhere else for him to sit.

He had a point. The window didn’t exactly let in a lot of light and the lightbulb wasn’t helping that much.

“That’s it! A change of scenery! Brilliant idea!” Félix grinned at his opposite/partner in crime.

“Hm… I don’t know about brilliant, but it’s okay,” the darker facet agreed.

Nico nodded. Maybe he could go to the mall…

“Who knows! The people passing by might yield inspiration!” Félix pointed out eagerly.

“But we gotta focus. No side trips, no distractions. We get there, we get inspired, we write the song and we’re out. No shopping. This song has to be done by the end of the week or Diego is going to get mad at me for not keeping you two in check!”

Alejo always turned just a bit darker and scarier when he drew a line in the sand.

Félix put a hand on his heart and raised his other, palm facing Alejo.

“I swear on my spectacular spectacles, my tense friend. No unneeded distractions.”

“By Aphrodite’s hairbrush!” Félix exclaimed, his star shaped frames shifting to hearts.

“Nooo!”

“Just look!”

Nico had just sat down and looked up under ‘mild’ encouragement from his creativity, who also covered his hormones. Well his desire for romance and other… Well desires in general. Success, love, happiness. All that stuff.

Right now his attention, and therefore Nico’s, was drawn by a handsome stranger ordering food at one of the shops in the food court.

“Just look at him! He’s so cute!” Félix gushed. And Nico couldn’t disagree. He was very handsome.

He also looked rather tired.

“We don’t have time for this. Besides he doesn’t look in the mood to be bothered anyway,” Alejo argued, though Nico could hear a bit of doubt. The guy was really cute.

“Maybe bothering him will get him in a better mood? Let’s take a chance, what do you say?”

“We don’t even know if he’s gay!”

Félix clapped in delight right as Alejo groaned at his accidental rhyme.

“No distractions, you promised!” his inner edgelord insisted as the man sat himself down at a table and Nico went back to his blank screen.

“But love!” Félix whined. “Can’t that be the only exception?”

“Not when we have people waiting for a new song! Maybe if we get at least an idea down, then we can think of talking to the guy. If we can find a non-creepy reason to do so.”

Félix groaned but relented his frames going back to star shaped.

“Very well! Brainstorming time!”

Nico wrote down at least a hundred beginnings of ideas already, but most seemed to be at least somewhat related to the cute guy sitting a few tables away.

“Come on royal pain! You are killing me here!”

“Maybe if I could just chance a glance at him? He might be our muse!” Félix pleaded.

“That makes no sense.”

Before the argument could escalate Nico’s food arrived.

He was honestly relieved. He could put the laptop away for a bit and just let his thoughts go free for a moment. Hopefully not drifting towards…

From the corner of his eye he could see the guy get up. Welp that didn’t take long.

“He’s coming over!” Felix declared triumphantly.

“You don’t know that! Don’t get Nico’s hopes up!”

Nico tried to focus on his food, but it was impossible not to sneak a peek as the guy passed by. Oh, he did not mind that view either. “Look away before he sees!” Alejo hissed.

“He looks so fine!”

“He could still be a jerk. Or already dating someone. Or straight!”

“Oh come on Misery Business. There is nothing straight about that guy. My gaydar is on point and he is 99% gay. And if he had a boyfriend, he would be here with him. Or he’d at least be in a better mood,” Félix argued.

“One, you do not have me convinced gaydar is a real thing. Two, there are a ton of situations where he could have a boyfriend while also being here alone and in a bad mood. Having a relationship does not join you at the other person’s hip and it does not get rid of all the bad things in life.”

Alejo had a point there…

“And again, we should try to work on the song!” Another good point.

“Please, my dearest Paramour. One more look.”

Alejo sighed. “Fine! Just one.”

And so Nico looked up and…

“Oh god! Eye contact he caught you!”

“He’s looking back! Maybe he wants you to be looking at him!?”

“Is he looking at us? Maybe there is something behind us?”

Nico looked back, he couldn’t see anything much of note. But when he looked back at the stranger he was no longer looking at him. It was like he never even really noticed him sitting there.

“By the frozen head of Disney!” Félix exclaimed. He was clearly upset. He only made morbid Disney references when he got really down.

Alejo sighed a little relieved, but put a comforting hand on his friend’s shoulder. “It’s fine. Let’s finish our meal and maybe we can come up with a song idea? Then after we can try and talk to him?”

“Would you really?” Nico thought it was awesome that his creativity and his anxiety got along so well. They looked out for one another. And pulled pranks on him and his other facets. They were a terrifyingly efficient team.

“Of course. Now what do you say?”

Félix nodded. “Let’s focus.”

And Nico got into the zone. The whole mall seemed to disappear around him except for the food in front of him. He knew he wanted to make something about mental health. He just didn’t know what aspect of it yet.

Then suddenly he heard a loud crashing sound nearby.

He looked up and could only just see a figure in an upturned trashcan.

Poor soul.

“Same,” Alejo smirked as he returned their attention to their work.

But that… Was actually not a bad idea.

“It’s a metaphor for life!” Félix gushed!

“Like how not dealing with an issue head on can cause it to pile up and before you know it bam! Disaster.”

“Are you trying to say something about…”

“Order 96!? Anyone?” Nico’s head snapped to the food stand and then over to the table where the mystery guy had sat earlier.

“Noooo!” Nico shared the musician’s sentiment. The handsome stranger was gone.

“He left without his food?” Alejo frowned. Nico got up and approached the table, indeed, the number 96 was sitting there abandoned and forgotten. He’d missed his chance. Now he’d never know.

“Would bringing him his food be an acceptable excuse to talk to him?” Félix asked desperately.

“Um… Yeah, sure. That’s probably the only reason we can justify chasing him down,” Alejo nodded nervously.

So Nico claimed the food and started walking around hoping to spot.

“Adonis at 8 o’clock!”

Nico’s head snapped in the direction Félix had pointed out and there he was, looking like the day had somehow gotten worse since Nico first noticed him.

Should he…?

Félix looked pleadingly at Alejo who sighed. “Well? Are you waiting for a written invitation or what?”

At that Nico immediately ran up to the guy. “Uh, Hey!” he called out still not sure what he was going to say.

When he came to a stop in front of him he realized that first and foremost he needed to catch his breath. It took him a second, but when he did he righted himself and gave the guy his best smile.

“There you are,” he sighed in relief. “I was afraid you’d left.” And that would’ve blown.

“You almost forgot your food…”

“He’s even cuter up close,” Félix sighed dreamily.

“He’s staring at us like we have two heads. This was a bad idea,” Alejo cringed.

He was staring at him kind of funny. Come on something to talk about… He really whished the guy was wearing a bracelet or anything of note to start a conversation about other than a bag of boiled carrots. And his sad look from earlier.

“Brilliant! Ask about that! Show how caring you are.”

“Well… We don’t have anything better so…”

“You looked really upset so I figured it might be some kind of comfort food or something. You mind kind of telling me about that?”

Please?

Nothing happened. Still staring strangely spooked at him. “Abort mission. I’m sorry Félix but this is not going to end well if we keep pushing!” Alejo rushed.

“Oh, very well. Goodbye handsome stranger,” Félix allowed reluctantly.

“It’s okay!” Nico rushed shoving the bag of food towards the stranger before he could do something to embarrass himself more. “Uh, it’s probably a bit too nosy for me to ask anyway.”

“Uh… Yeah!” The stranger replied, god why did even his voice have to sound so pleasant? And that while he was clearly 100% uncomfortable talking to him.

“Super nosy!! What’s wrong with you…man?” Nico would take offence, but he could see that the stranger was desperate to get out of the situation as fast as possible.

“We made him feel worse,” Alejo sighed guiltily.

“We didn’t mean to!” Félix argued.

“Does the intention matter? Look at him?”

“Ahhh, yeah… sorry about that. Have a good night.”

And so Nico turned around and walked away a little disappointed.

Neither Alejo nor Félix had much to say now, just allowing Nico to feel for a minute. And then he heard shoes squeaking and a voice behind him. “Uh…”

He looked around. The stranger. “Did he change his mind?!” Félix squealed.

“Maybe he just realized he was kind of rude and wanted to say sorry?” Alejo reasoned.

“Hey,” he greeted the stranger expectantly. He still looked really tense.

But now he was at least smiling. And it was a real cute smile.

“Hey…” he waved before showing him the bag of carrots. “Do you want this food? I… don’t.”

“What?” Félix and Alejo chorused confused and Nico couldn’t help but laugh.

“Then why did you buy it?” he asked.

The stranger looked away nervously and rubbed at the back of his head as he stammered trough his reply. Sending Félix into a squealing frenzy. The words cute and precious and all kinds of variations could be heard.

“Oh y-…pah-uh…Well it’s probably… you know, maybe because I was trying to see your backpack…”

Nico blinked confused as Alejo was trying to figure out what was so special about it. “Just ask him!” he eventually hissed as the uncertainty got to him.

“Wh-uh, my backpack?”

The stranger was still avoiding his eyes most of the time, a slight blush showing up on his cheeks.

“Yeah… I-I wanted to see if you had any… pride pins…”

Nico could only half follow the strangers explanation about not wanting to bother him because Félix was screaming and Alejo was screaming.

“Gay! He’s so definitely gay!”

“He wanted to know… He is interested!?”

“Oh gods, oh gods, this is amazing! He is so wonderful and earnest and just look at him he’s so worried he’s being weird! Just aaaah!”

“Which would’ve been amazing because I think you are really… cute.”

And then everything went quiet. Cute… He thinks I am cute…

“Don’t just stand there say something!”

“Oh… my… gosh…”

“Not that!”

“You should’ve just said ‘hi’!”

And the shy hopeful smile he got was just the most beautiful thing in existence.

“Oh-oh yeah?”

“Yeah, I had writers block anyway.”

Alejo gave Félix a playful shove at that.

“Oh! Uh… w-what were you trying to write? Uh, Misterrrr…?”

“Shut up, stop being adorable, my heart cannot take it!” Félix gushed.

Nico laughed. “Mr. Flores. Very formal of you! Uh… You can call me Nico if you’d like.”

The man laughed back, still a little tense but much more at ease than earlier.

“Mr. Sanders! But you can call me Thomas.”

“Thomas,” Félix repeated with a sigh, clearly halfway a plan to write an entire song just around the name alone somehow.

“To answer your question. I was attempting to write a song,” he explained as he led them both to the nearest table. He was planning on staying for quite a bit longer.

“Oh! I like… songs.” Nico smiled a little to himself, he wasn’t looking at him but he could already discern the little mental ‘are you kidding me?’ Thomas was thinking to himself at that answer. Nico, or more specifically Félix, had a suspicion of what he meant.

“He’s an artist too!!!” the master writer exclaimed.

“We don’t know that,” Alejo insisted.

“What’s yours about?”

Ah if only he knew the answer to that. “Uh… I don’t know yet. I- I think I like the idea of someone’s life…” No not quite. “or an aspect of their life feeling like… a trash bin.” Thomas’ face at that wasn’t encouraging, but he wasn’t finished explaining yet so the idea wasn’t a complete loss yet.

“And- and the waste keeps piling… and piling up… until it inevitably… spills out… into the rest of their life.” He smiled at Thomas expectantly, hoping he’d like the idea at least a little.

His face became deadpan though and just as Nico started to worry…

“You saw me knock over that trash can didn’t you?”

Oh, my… “That was you!?”

“We could’ve been his hero?” Félix whined.

“He would not have liked us seeing him like that. Imagine if it were the other way around?”

Félix shivered and nodded in understanding.

As it was the realization that Nico didn’t have a clue until now, and he’d had outed himself as ‘the trash man’ was clearly embarrassing enough on it’s own.

“OH- gosh… yes. Dang it!” he confessed as he hid his face behind his hands.

“Are you okay?” Nico asked earnestly though he couldn’t keep the amusement out of his voice or face.

Thomas was laughing as well. “Nothing but a bruised ego,” he assured him.

Félix huffed. Nico knew that to him a bruised ego was a serious condition that should not be glossed over. But Nico kind of liked that Thomas was able to laugh at the situation already.

“Sorry if my song explanation… uh, hit a little too close to home.”

Thomas’ earnest smile melted his heart.

“No, it’s fine. It’s true! I do tend to… waste a lot of opportunities in my life.”

“Was that a pun?” Nico’s facets asked shocked.

“Well,” he smiled as he took the bag of carrots. “Let’s not waste this one,” he suggested.

Next chapter

Nico’s head and heart were buzzing with excitement the whole rest of the day when he came home he threw himself on the couch.

“AAAAAAAH!” Félix and Alejo screamed in jubilation.

“An actor and a singer?” Félix gushed.

“And he has good taste in music and in movies,” Alejo pointed out.

“He did a tour with his own musical! Is he even real?”

“How was he so modest about it?”

“Would it be okay to look him up?” the boisterous facet wondered, phone already in hand.

“Well, he said it was fine if we did… but maybe not right away?” the usually restrained man was vibrating with a mix of happy and scared nerves.

“I need a minute…” Nico sighed dreamily.

“Oh. Of course. We’ll be right here when you need us,” Félix assured him as he and Alejo retreated to the mind to tell the others all the details they might’ve missed.

#tssides #ts sides #sanders sides #spoilers #nico flores #karrot kings

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vs-redemption · 5 years ago

Note

May I please have BNHA scenarios of how any characters you think would fit would dealing with a haunting with their paranormal loving partner? Thank you

A/N: I had so much fun writing these! I decided to do three characters: Twice, Mirko, and Todoroki. They’re all under the cut since it’s three different stories. I hope you enjoy!

Dealing with a Haunting (Twice, Mirko, and Todoroki x Paranormal Loving!Reader)

Warning: Mentions of scary Halloween themes like death and murder related to the huantings.

Twice (Jin Bubaigawara)

“Hey Jin!” You skip up to your boyfriend with an innocent smile on your face. It was always the best way to get his guard down if you had to ask him for something. Not that it was hard to get him to go along with your ideas anyway. He could never resist doing things for the people he cared about. “I finally decided what I want for my birthday.”

“Really? What is it?” He perks up at your words, eager to find out what it was that would make you happy. “Took you long enough!”

You smile, knowing there was no reason to be offended by the second comment. He pulls you into a hug as you reach up to put a hand on each side of his face. Your touch reminds him that he has no reason to fear splitting apart. “I want to spend the night in a haunted hotel,” you tell him, causing him to go bug eyed for a moment.

“Uh uh! No Way!” he shakes his head before leaning in close, “anything for you, baby!” You smile victoriously. He would need no further convincing. He knew you loved anything paranormal, and there was no way he was going to let you go somewhere potentially dangerous by yourself.

An alarm on your phone alerts you once it is 3am on the night of your birthday. You hop off the hotel bed which was still perfectly made since you had no intention of sleeping. Your boyfriend, however, had drifted off in the room’s armchair in the middle of the movie you’d put on a few hours before.

“Jin, wake up!” You shake his shoulder and he wakes up with a startle. “It’s dead time! Let’s go!” You don’t wait for him to reply as you open up your suitcase to grab your flashlight and camera. You remember to hand Jin a mask to wear over his head so that he’d feel a little more confident.

“Are you sure about this?” He whispers as you both tiptoe out into the darkened hallway.

“Of course!” You assure him. “I’ve been wanting to come here for years! Thank you so much for doing this with me.” You lean toward him to give him a peck on the cheek before making your way down to the first floor of the hotel. Your footsteps echo around the stairwell and you feel Jin slip his hand into yours.

“Are you scared already?” you ask him in amusement.

“Oh course not!” He defends himself before puffing out his chest, “I’m your brave protector!” You laugh at his false bravado as you lead him toward the empty swimming pool.

“They say a pair of twins died in this pool,” you tell your boyfriend as you flick on your flashlight and let it illuminate the calm water in front of you. “Every year, on the same day as their death, people claim to hear the sound of children laughing and running around this area.” You turn around and give him your best creepy smile, “tonight is the 10 year anniversary.”

“Stop it,” Jin was definitely getting spooked now, “I don’t believe you.”

As soon as he muttered those words, you felt a small breeze brush past you both with the faint sound of a giggle floating through the air. You quickly reach for your camera, hoping to capture some evidence of what was happening, but Jin completely freaked out. He scoops you into his arms and runs as fast as he can from the pool area. Once you’re far enough away, he sets you down and takes your hand again. “Your story was real!” He gasps, “Let’s get out of here!” Jin takes you back to your room to get the rest of your stuff before checking out as fast as humanly possible.

Mirko (Rumi Usagiyama)

You had been a fan of everything and anything paranormal since before you could remember. You had grown up watching all the different ghost hunting programs on TV and always found yourself watching live ghost cams in your free time. Over the years, you’d collected all sorts of gadgets like EMF readers, thermal cameras, and digital voice recorders. Recently, you had even started your own paranormal investigation website where you posted videos of your own ghost hunting adventures. It was the hobby you were most passionate about. When the Halloween season finally came around, you decided to a special vlog including your pro hero girlfriend, Mirko.

“Sorry, I know you’re into all the spooky stuff, but it’s not really my thing,” She flips her long silver hair over her shoulder before pointing a confident thumb to her chest. “I’ve literally made it my job not to be afraid of anything.” You let out a laugh at her predictable response.

“You don’t have to be scared,” you tell her. “I just thought it was something fun we could do to get into the Halloween spirit!” The rabbit hero puts a hand to her chin in thought before shrugging her shoulders.

“All right, I don’t see any harm in it,” she gives in quickly since, if nothing else, it was a chance to spend more time with you. She knew she’d made the right decision by the way your face had lit up with excitement. You both were thrill seekers, which is what had brought you two together in the first place.

What she hadn’t predicted at all, was that you would be dragging her to a graveyard on the night of Halloween. You’d set up some cameras around the area during the day, then went back with Mirko after the sun had set.

“What am I supposed to be looking for?” Mirko had the EMF reader in her hand as she followed you through the rows of headstones. It was a little chilly outside and she looked really cute bundled up in her fluffy coat and gloves.

“Supposedly, ghosts are able to effect magnetic frequencies,” you explain excitedly while scanning the area with your thermal camera. “The device you’re holding will let us know if there are any disturbances in the electromagnetic energy around here.”

“Right,” her intense red eyes glanced around the graveyard as if daring something to come set off the device.

“You know you can’t take down a spirit with brute force, right Rumi?” You ask her in amusement while continuing your walk among the headstones. A slight mist had started to form over the ground and the temperature of the air seemed to drop suddenly. The tiny machine in Mirko’s hand began emitting a high pitched whine that made the hero tense up and go on alert.

“What’s happening?” she asks urgently. She didn’t sound scared, just ready to go toe to toe with anything dangerous that might appear.

“Shhh,” you put a finger to your lips before grabbing your voice recorder. You hit the record button and start asking questions like “Is anyone there?” and “If there’s a spirit present, give us a sign.” The EMF reader goes silent again and you glance over at Mirko. Her eyes are wide and her fluffy rabbit ears are straight up in the air.

“Something just moved past me and touched my hair,” she whispers as a smirk grows on her face. Abruptly, she snatches the recorder out of your hand. “All right ghost!” She challenges, “You wanna play? You don’t know who you’re messing with!”

“Rumi!” You can’t help but laugh even though the things you were suddenly experiencing were really quite extraordinary.

“Point the camera over there,” Mirko suddenly points across the graveyard. “By that tree.”

“Oh!” You gasp when the thermal camera picks up on a patch of cold in the exact spot Mirko had indicated. How had she known? “There’s something over there!” Mirko looked victorious before bouncing off in that direction, going too fast for you to keep up thanks to her large bunny feet.

“This is going to be great for your website!” she calls out behind her but the cold spot on the camera disappeared before reached the tree. You shake your head in amusement, wondering if bringing your girlfriend had been a good idea after all. She was going to scare all the ghosts away.

“It’s gone now,” you call over to her. The disappointment in your voice brought Mirko back to your side in a flash.

“Don’t worry!” She promises while putting an arm around you, “We’re going to track down every single ghost in this graveyard, even if we have to stay out here all night!” For someone who’d said ghosts weren’t her thing, Mirko was sure getting into it.

Shoto Todoroki

Getting a pro hero to take a vacation was borderline impossible. You’d been begging your boyfriend, Shoto Todoroki, to take some time off for years, but he was always reluctant to leave his job for more than a day or two at a time. You understood his need to be on standby in case of a major villain attack or big natural disaster. He hated the thought of not being there to save an innocent life or have the back of one of his fellow heroes. He still made sure to spend time with you every day, and you were content with taking small weekend trips with him when you could.

The routine had become familiar and comfortable, so it came as a huge shock to you when Todoroki showed up after work one day with two plane tickets in his hand. Not only were you going on an extended vacation with your boyfriend for the first time, but he’d also chosen New Orleans as the destination. You’d been dreaming of going there since you were a child. It was a city with a history full of vampires, witches, ghosts, and plenty of other supernatural entities. You were happy that your boyfriend had remembered, and surprised that he’d be willing to go along for the journey.

“I booked us a private tour at a haunted house tonight,” Shoto says causally as you unpack your bags at the first hotel. You look over at him in surprise. He was intently reading a brochure about the best ghost tours in the city.

“Are you sure you want to do that, Shoto?” You ask and he turns to look at you. “It might be really scary.”

“The ghosts don’t really exist,” he comes over and sits next to you on the bed. “But I think it’s an interesting way to learn about the history here.” If he was so sure, you weren’t going to try to change his mind. You were just happy that he was doing all this for you.

Once the tour started, you found yourself thankful that your boyfriend had paid for the private walkthrough. Some of the effect would have been lost if there’d been a huge group of people trying to squeeze through the dimly lit rooms and hallways. The tour guide was fantastic at setting the mood as well, explaining the stories of each haunting with just enough suspenseful flair.

“The previous owners of this house have reported repeatedly seeing a woman in a white dress standing by that window,” he explains. “They say she matches the description of a woman who died here, murdered by her lover who’d gone crazy after coming home from the war.”

At the beginning of the tour, Todoroki had curiously wandered around each room, investigating different items and asking questions. Now that you were deeper into the house though, he seemed less willing to stray too far from your side. You noticed he kept looking over his shoulder.

“Sometimes,” The tour guide continues, “When I’m closing up at night, I hear footsteps following me down this hallway even though I’m the only one here.”

“Really?” You ask, fascinated. “Have you ever seen anything?” You feel Shoto come up right behind you and put a hand on your waist.

“Yes!” The tour guide says dramatically, “I’ve often caught glimpses of a man’s face looking at me through mirrors or around corners.” The grip on your waist gets a little tighter.

“Are you okay, Shoto?” You ask, not understanding why he was being so clingy. It wasn’t like him at all.

“I’m fine,” he says but doesn’t let go of you.

“Oh!” The tour guide’s eyes suddenly go wide and he puts up his hands to ask for quiet. “Do you hear that?” You strain your ears and cover your mouth when the faint sound of a piano could be heard from somewhere nearby. The tour guide beckons you to follow him until you reach the room that was the source of the sound. You peek in the doorway and gasp when you see the keys of a grand piano playing by themselves.

“Look over there,” The tour guide suddenly whispers and you and Todoroki glance over to the corner of the room where a dark figure stood, barely visible in the shadows.

“Wow!” you were amazed but the grip your boyfriend had on you was almost getting uncomfortable now. You look up at him to see poorly concealed terror all over his face. You felt bad that he was reacting so badly so you took his hand into your own. “Most of it is tricks set up to excite the tourists,” you tell him to try and ease his fears.

The guide continues the tour after a moment but the sound of heavy footsteps suddenly come stomping down the hallway and move right past your small group. Todoroki’s eyes follow the sound as it fades out behind him. He actually starts to push you forward after that. “Please walk faster,” he tells you firmly.

You both were relieved when the tour was over. You’d enjoyed all the spooky experiences, but your poor boyfriend had not enjoyed even a moment of it. It was safe to say you wouldn’t be doing any more private haunted tours with him for the rest of the trip.

#mirko x reader #twice x reader #todoroki x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #mirko #rumi usagiyama #bnha twice #jin bubaigawara #shoto todoroki #mha #bnha #writing requests #Cindy's Writing

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cvriolanus · 5 years ago

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pretty thing | caliban imagine

a/n: hello! this is my very first oneshot for caliban, as well as my first time writing again in over two years... please be patient with me, any mistakes or errors are my own. if you want to request something caliban related, just message me! i’ll be happy to write for you! also, feedback is always appreciated! thank you.

plot: you and caliban get up to some fun in Hell’s library.

warnings: fem!reader, manipulation, cocky caliban, sexual tension, fluff but not really??

˚✧₊♡⁎⁺˳.•

Caliban didn’t know what to make of you.

You confused him, so oblivious of his affection towards you. Caliban was drawn to you the moment he felt your presence, lingering next to the daughter of the Dark Lord, Sabrina Spellman.

Your bright eyes, shining in interest at the setting around you. Completely unaware of the hungry looks half the court was making at you, it made his insides burn. Unfortunately, he could do little to stop it. You weren’t his, you didn’t belong to him. The only thing Caliban could do was watch you from afar, making sure nothing happened to you, he made sure you were safe. That nobody would lay a finger on you or he’d drag them to Hell himself and make sure that their bodies were unrecognizable once he was finished. He could be cruel, he was aware of that already, but for you — he wasn’t sure how far he’d go to make sure that nobody would harm you. The thought alone infuriated him and he had no idea why.

You would often accompany Sabrina to Hell, asking if she could bring you along since the first time you went to Hell, something making you want to go back to that horrid place again and again — you just didn’t know what exactly what or rather more, who it was. It all started when you, Roz, Theo, Harvey and Sabrina went to Hell to get Sabrina’s boyfriend back.

You weren’t completely sure what it was, but the feeling was there all around you. You felt warm, protected and safe. You didn’t know if the warmth came from Hell itself, but you knew for sure that Hell wasn’t exactly a safe place... If anything, you’d most likely be killed the moment a demon laid their greedy eyes on you.

Sabrina listened to you, at first thinking that you’ve gone mental, but after hearing you out she decided that it wouldn’t hurt. As long as you stayed close to her and didn’t wander off, then you could go. The only downside was that you had to wear a pair of deadman shoes again.

Today was your third time in Hell, Sabrina was sitting on the throne discussing business with Lilith as usual, the only unusual thing was that there was now a man there that you recognized from the ‘Shores of Sorrow’. He was standing next to the Plague King’s, whispering to each other while the nameless man, with dirty blond hair and flawless skin, watched you with piercing eyes.

You didn’t know who he was, just that he was gorgeous and apparently likes building sandcastles. He also seems to like watching you, since the moment you’ve arrived, he hasn’t looked away. His eyes were intense, his face blank of emotion and he did nothing but stand there with the Kings and listen, occasionally giving a nod of understanding.

You swallowed, shrinking more and more into the corner, until Sabrina called your name. You had to practically tear your eyes away from the man, or else he’d probably think you’re the crazy one. You looked up to find Sabrina frowning at you, before opening her mouth. “Why don’t you and I hit the library? Lilith was just telling me that Hell has its very own personal library, one that my father used to use when he wanted to be alone. It has all these ancient texts and I know how much you love to read.”

You smiled softly, nodding. “Yeah, that sounds lovely. Show me the way, ‘Brina.” Sabrina smiled brightly, before taking your hand into hers and leading you to the library. Once the two of you got there, Lilith immediately pops up in a tornado of raging flames, giving Sabrina a hard glare. “I told you that you could visit the library after your duties were finished for the day.”

Sabrina looked sheepish, opening her mouth to make up an excuse, but you beat her right to it. “Oh, Sabrina was just showing me the way here since she knows how much I love to read, she was afraid I’d get lost and felt that I needed to escape since I looked a little out of place,” you replied smoothly.

Lilith looked like she didn’t believe you, which she probably didn’t, but she nodded anyways. “Quite. You will stay here until Sabrina is finished, and then, and only then, she will come back to collect you to bring you back home, mortals don’t belong here anyways.”

You frowned, “Alright.” Sabrina shook her head, clearly disapproving of the way Lilith seemed to talk down at you, instead of with you. “Come Sabrina, we still have much to discuss.” Lilith spoke, clearly feeling impatient by the way she was tapping her foot against the hard marble. Sabrina gave you an apologetic look, promising you that she wouldn’t be long.

Once the two of them left, you went ahead and went through the many isles of bookshelves. This had to be the biggest library you’ve ever stepped foot into, it was at least twenty times bigger than the one at the Academy, it just had to be.

You roamed the different isles of books, running your fingertips over the spines of books gently. You wondered if you could do some research and find out why you were so drawn to Hell. As you collected the books you found that would be helpful, you made your way to the back of the library, seeing a bunch of cherry-wooden tables lined up with chairs for your pleasure.

You grinned, grateful as you hurriedly dropped the books on the table with a huff, they were absolutely heavy. You sat down, taking the first book in your view and opening it up, trailing your finger down the table of contents. Of course, there was a massive fireplace crackling away, keeping the library warm and comfortable.

A hour had passed, with you already halfway through the giant book when you heard the large, oak doors slam shut. You jumped, easily spooked out by the loud sound. You lifted your head, wincing slightly from your neck cracking. “Hello?” you asked, wondering if Sabrina had returned.

Nobody answered.

You were certain that you heard the doors to the library open and close, so you decided to get up and investigate. With your heart pounding against your ribcage frantically, you carefully got up and made your way to the nearest isle of books. With a shaky breath, you called out again. “Sabrina? Is that you?” Maybe whoever it was couldn’t hear you since this place was so massive, but it was so quiet in here... surely, that couldn’t be the case.

You walked slowly, your sneakers luckily not making any noise which you were thankful for. You heard another sound suddenly, and it sounded like a cry for help, a woman’s cry. “H-Hello? Please answer me,” you begged, beginning to really panic now. The crying grew closer with each step you took, seeming to get louder and louder as the person crying was full on screaming now, shaking the walls of this place.

You quickly ran down the long isle, not noticing a pair of eyes on you. As you went to go another way, the crying stopped. It was silent, except from your heavy breathing.

“You have the most beautiful heartbeat.”

You let out a loud cry, grabbing a heavy book from the shelf and swinging it at the intruder behind you, before they abruptly grasped your wrist tightly to stop your movements.

It was the man from the beach.

Your eyes immediately widened, “Y-You again, how did you—“

“I followed you. Figured a pretty thing like you shouldn’t be left alone down here, where anything could get to you and tear up that pretty face of yours.”

Your eyebrows furrowed, making your nose scrunch up a bit. “Who are you?” you asked, your voice stern, eyes ablazed. “You nearly gave me a heart attack, I thought someone was hurt or worse—“

“I’m sorry I frightened you, sweetheart. But I must admit, I do like a game of cat and mouse quite a lot. As for who I am, I’m Caliban, Prince of Hell,” Caliban spoke, his voice deep and smooth like velvet.

You instantly felt your heart sink at his words, like a giant grenade bomb going off in you. “Oh,” you spoke dumbly. “Prince of Hell?” you questioned, still slightly shaken from this whole encounter. Caliban, the Prince of Hell, smiled. It was breathtaking. Caliban hummed softly, still holding your wrists in his strong grasp. “What would the Prince of Hell be doing following a mortal girl like me?” you wondered aloud.

Caliban chuckled softly, finally letting go of you and taking a step back, running long fingers through his blond hair lazily. “I’ve been following you, for the last couple of weeks... don’t tell me you haven’t felt my presence near you, I know that you could feel me,” Caliban purred, taking a step towards you, daringly.

Your mouth went dry, not sure you heard him correctly. “But why? You don’t know me, I’m just—“

“Beautiful,” Caliban interrupted, his voice low as his eyes seemed to dilate. You let out a nervous laugh, shifting from foot to foot. Caliban’s pink lips curled up into a smirk, “Would you like to join me in bed?”

Your eyes nearly popped out of your head, “What? No! I don’t—I don’t even know you! You could kill me!” Caliban let out a small laugh at your naive tone, backing you up against a bookshelf, his arms trapping you. Your breathing increased, pressing your back against the shelf until the hard wood was digging into your back uncomfortably, making you let out a small wince. His eyes lit up at the noise.

“I won’t hurt you, not unless you enjoy pain,” Caliban spoke, looking down at you with a hungry look in his eyes. Caliban bent so that his face was just mere centimeters away from yours, now breathing the same air as you. The familiar feelings of warmth surrounded you again, but you didn’t feel safe this time. Your lips parted, about to tell this guy to fuck off, but Caliban was quicker, pressing his lips against yours desperately.

You let out a low whine, immediately gripping Caliban’s arms just as he deepened the kiss, swiping his hot tongue over your bottom lip, making you whimper. You didn’t even notice, but you began kissing him back just as fiercely, craving his hot mouth on yours. “Please,” you begged, brokenly. You didn’t know what you were asking from him, but he seemed to know exactly what you needed.

Caliban pressed his entire body against yours, your nipples hardening at the feel of his hard body against your own. Caliban brought up his right hand, cupping the side of your face while continuing to kiss you passionately, his tongue now stroking yours eagerly, his thumb gently stroking your jaw. The Prince of Hell noticed how sensitive you were, he could smell the honey pooling between your legs. It was making him crazy, feral almost.

“Let me fuck you,” Caliban rasped, pulling only a inch away, grinding his hardness into your hips, making you let out a shaky moan. You didn’t know what the fuck was going on, one minute you were desperate to get away from this man, the next he had you pinned up against a bookshelf, kissing you senseless.

You were about to respond, but the library doors slammed open, your eyes following the sound of footsteps grow closer and closer. You swallowed, your skin beginning to feel damp with sweat. A voice you recognized called your name, making your heart begin to race once again. It was Sabrina. “You have to go,” you pleaded Caliban, who only seemed annoyed at being interrupted from his time with you.

A idea seemed to pop into his head only a second later, his lips forming a gorgeous smirk, “No,” he purred, bending down so that his lips ghosted over your ear. His lips began trailing down your neck, peppering wet kisses against your soft skin, lightly sucking on your pulse point.

You let out a needy moan, throwing your head back with a soft thump as it collided with the hard bookshelf, though you paid it little attention, too focused on this man that was making your legs weak.

Sabrina’s voice broke you out of your little world once again, startling you. She was coming closer. “Pretty thing. Are you scared of your friend finding us back here?” Caliban growled, nipping lightly at your neck before he pressed his lips against yours once more, his arms wrapping around you tightly. “She’d be so disappointed with you...” he trailed off, leaving you to your dark thoughts. “Just think, you’re getting felt up by the one person who your dear friend Sabrina is fighting against to claim the throne of Hell, is now about to fuck her best friend in the back of her father’s library. How scandalous,” he tutted, before letting out a soft laugh as he pressed another kiss against your plump lips.

“N-No, you can’t,” you wailed, trying to break free of his power over you. Caliban smiled, shaking his head. “Yes, I can.” Tears were prickling at your eyes, making them burn with angst. “Please, Caliban—I’ll do anything,” you whimpered.

Caliban seemed to pause at your words, hearing Sabrina’s heels clicking against the marble flooring, most likely trying to find you in this maze, but unbeknownst to both of you, Caliban had the two of you cloaked. Caliban pulled back slightly, looking at the tears pooling in your pretty eyes. He frowned, letting out a aggravated sigh. “Anything?”

You nodded frantically, your lips parting to try and compromise with this man. “Yes,” you breathed. “I promise.”

Caliban smiled, showing off his straight, white teeth. “Alright, well since you promise...” he trailed off, playfully. Caliban looked at you for a minute longer, savoring the way you looked to his memory. You were perfect in his eyes.

“I’ll be waiting for you tonight,” Caliban said, pulling away from you, though staying close. “Make sure you’re awake, or I’ll be very displeased.”

“Tonight?” you asked, puzzled.

“In your bedroom, midnight. See you then, pretty thing.”

With that being said, Caliban disappeared into a whirl of flames, making you jump. The second he was gone, Sabrina came around the corner, a smile on her face. “There you are! Sweet Satan, I was looking all over for you. Are you okay? I’m so sorry I left you alone, but business in Hell is a little... overwhelming.”

You shook your head, smiling as you tried blinking away your tears. “I’m fine, let’s get out of here, yeah?”

Sabrina sighed, nodding at you. “Absolutely, I’m starving. You want to grab something to eat? Maybe we can catch a movie later to, if you’re willing to stay over.”

You agreed happily, “Sure, I just can’t be out too late.”

Sabrina wiggled her eyebrows at you, walking by your side to the entrance of the library. “Ooh, you’ve got plans with someone or something?”

You grinned, your heart pounding in your chest at the thought of him. “Or something.”

Sabrina laughed, taking your hand so that she could bring you back to earth. You would never openly admit it, but you were looking forward to later that night.

fin

#caos caliban #caos part 3 #caos #chilling adventures of sabrina #sabrina spellman #prince of hell #caliban #prince caliban #caliban caos

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everydayanth · 5 years ago

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Academic Elitism: an institutional issue

Sorry for being so rant-y lately, but the elitism of university has been a problem for me from the exact moment I accepted my scholarship with a signature and a handshake in high school. (The scholarship was later revoked due to state up-fuckery, but that’s another story, and I was already in too deep by the time they told me).

My parent’s house was only an hour north, my younger sister had already claimed my room, but I was excited. I was in the furthest dorm building, because that’s where the scholarship kids went, it was like a poor kid diversity hall, every few doors was someone from a completely different background, but we were all poor except our Swedish RA, and there was an odd pride in that. We all had various scholarships: robotics, dance team, nerds like me, etc. (not the football or hockey athletes though, they had their own dorm next to the library for... reasons, lol).

But being the last hall, it wasn’t actually full, most of us had entire rooms to ourselves, often whole suites; our hall was co-ed, but rooms were only occupied at every-other, staggered down the corridor. Only the front two halls were used, the back two closed off for construction or codes or something. We had to hike up the hill for dining halls, which was fine until snowdays that shut the whole campus down (and I mean west Michigan ones, with 4+ feet of powder and ice underneath). I had an old computer my dad got me for graduation and I didn’t know it was old until my peers started calling it a dinosaur. I had to use the library computers to write and print papers, and most places I went, I ran into the other scholarship kids. We didn’t talk much, just a head bob here and there, awareness at our similarities and an annoyed spite at being thrown together this way. It was lonely for everyone.

I had a purple flip phone I’d gotten only that calendar year (2009) and was still learning to text with (abbreviations? instant messaging? what?). My roommate had come down from Alaska to live near her dad, we’d talked in the summer, but I never saw her. I moved my things in and her stuff was on her side, I texted her about going to turn in paperwork and when I came back, there was a note on my bed and all her things were gone, she couldn’t do it, had never been away from home for even a night. She left a few mismatched socks and a bag of junk pens that I resented for years.

Social media was mostly a way to talk to people across campus and exchange homework and party times/locations. We posted over-edited photos of our food and still jogged with our mp3 players and ipods. But within two years, I had to trade in my computer three times and upgrade to a smartphone to keep up with the expectations of communication. Professors would cancel classes by emails an hour out, and if I was on campus, I simply didn’t get the message, running between classes with 19 credit hours and three jobs. Work would call in or cancel my appointments (tutoring) and I needed to be able to communicate at the rate of my peers, so though it wasn’t something we could easily afford, my parents let me get the smartphone and my dad helped me find computers that could keep up with writing papers and researching without having to go to the lab, which saved so much time.

There was little understanding for my suffering. I didn’t have a car, I had to call my parents and organize a time to get home or take the train which was more expensive than waiting around on an empty campus. They were often things that even the wealthiest students had to deal with, but there were so much more of them for us, more stress, more problems, more solutions, more consequences, and in some ways, more determination.

I spent plenty of breaks holed up in my room, but when the swine flu/H1N1 outbreak happened, guess where they quarantined students?

In our hall.

Not the back one that was closed. In the room attached to my suite.

After half a semester alone, suddenly strangers shared my bathroom. I never saw them, I would just hear the formidable click of the bathroom lock followed by the shower. A week later I got a blue half-sheet note in my mailbox about quarantines. The other kids were as pissed off, as we watched kids escorted in with blue masks and were told to just get cleaning wipes from the front desk –they ran out in a week.

We were the recyclable students, brought in to trade scholarships for university grade averages. Many of my friends were struggling with scholarship qualifications and gpas (which only encouraged my continual obsessive perfectionism and involvement).

We were expendable.

I didn’t understand the elitism then, or I did, but I’d twisted it in my head from years tossed between private and public schools. I was an invader, I wasn’t supposed to be there, but I wanted to be. I understood that I didn’t deserve it, that I had to work harder to stay. I completed Master’s coursework for my Bachelor’s degree, finishing two BA programs (anthropology and English: creative writing) and 2 minor programs in philosophy and world lit, lead several campus groups and volunteered with honor’s societies. I spent hours on campus every day, running home just to go to one job or the other. I slept about four hours a night and I still romanticize it because I loved it. And I was good at it. It was a closed system, easy to infiltrate, easy to watch and observe and follow, to feel protected from the world, but there were always ways that I came up short.

I didn’t have leggings or Northface fleeces or Ugg boots or name brand anything (except a pair of converse I got in 8th grade from my Babcia). I had old high school sweats and soccer shirts, hand-me-down clothes from sisters and cousins that mix-matched a style I thought was unique but I now understand screamed I don’t really belong here. Example: I went to propose an independent study to a professor I really admired and I panicked about what to wear. I still cringe at the memory, gahhhhhh, but I pulled on what I thought was a decent dress because it had no rips or stains or tears and though I’d picked it up from a clearance rack, it was the newest thing and therefore the best. But in retrospect, it was definitely a “party” dress, I grabbed a sweater, hoop earrings that had always been beautiful in my neighborhood, and heels I never wore otherwise, and presented my idea. This old professor was just like “um...did you dress up for me?” Clearly spooked by red flags and I realized my mistake. Saved by quick thinking I clarified “no, I have a presentation later,” and being a familiar face in the social sciences department, I let him assume I was dressed up as something. I just went in my sweats and t-shirts after that, got a haircut that tamed the wavy frizz and learned the importance of muted tones, cardigans, and flats.

I made a lot of interesting friends in the process, people who also stuck out from the American Academic culture: exchange students, older (non-traditional) students, rebels, and other poor kids. But that also meant that we all evolved during our time there, so friendship was quick and fleeting as we adapted or dropped out or remained oblivious, lost in our studies and dreams of changing the world or our lives.

I had no idea how to approach the dining halls because I could only afford the bronze plan that was included with my room+board scholarship. I could enter the hall ten times per week, with four included passes to the after-hours carry-out (this was an upgrade from the free high school lunch I was coming from). I met other kids on this plan and their dorm rooms had fridges and microwaves and shelves of ramen and mac’n’cheese. Mine was sparse, my fridge had jugs of water from the filtered tap in the common room, and though it had a shared kitchenette, it always smelled bad or was being used and the nearest grocery store was Meijers which was a 15-20 minute drive from campus. I used so much energy dividing up my meals and figuring out how to sneak food from the hall for later or just learn to not eat, which is another story involving malnutrition, broken bones, and the American Healthcare System.

We like to summarize the college experience with fond struggles. I went back to my old high school to watch my younger sisters’ marching band competition that first year (it’s MI, and they were good). My old art teacher (not much older than we were but she felt so much older at the time, also her maiden name was Erickson and so was her fiance’s so she didn’t “change” her name and that blows my mind to this day), anyway, she stopped me to ask how school was going, and I was not prepared to be recognized in anyway and stammered out something like “oh, yeah, stressful. Fun, cool, yeah,” like the eloquent well-educated student I was. And she said, “oh, I loved it, don’t you love it? Everything’s so charming, and being poor? Oh man, it’s hard for a while, but it’s so good to go through.”

I was dumbfounded at her reference to poverty as a thing to go through when you’re a student. I again had to remember that I was infiltrating places where people weren’t just marginally more well-off than I was, but far beyond, in a place where they couldn’t comprehend an alternative, couldn’t conceive of surviving poverty, of not having a reliable place to fall if you mess up, parents who couldn’t support you if things went wrong, who couldn’t save you from having to drop out if scholarships were canceled because the money just wasn’t there.

Talking with my parents never worked, and I recently found this video by The Financial Diet about Boomer shame in being poor, where many Millennials were united by it and it was #relatable. But all this is to say that there are so many layers and ways we develop in higher education that are often overlooked by the romantic nostalgia of the elite expectation. What we demand from education vs. what it offers us in return is rarely equal for students coming from poverty, and it starts with that first sacrifice of looking at money and deciding it has to be worth it to do something bigger, and that education is a necessary piece of that goal.

Now I live near Brown University, I’ve been to Harvard when we lived in Boston and recently took a trip to Yale with bold expectations. I am friends with several people who work at these places and I hear the same things: so many students are in a place where their obsessions are considered more important than the larger world, an argument that Shakespeare is a woman is more important to prove than the greater issues of sexism in society as a whole, while others are trained to look at data and the world as a pocketable fact-book, going to conferences and week-long summits and then off to D.C. to make important decisions about places they’ve never been to, for people they’ve never met, about problems they’ve never experienced.

It’s not new. It’s not romantic. It’s not nostalgic. It’s just sick.

I was horrified at New Haven. I have read so many social science reports and papers and experiments and academic bullshit that has come from professors at Yale with a big badge of ivy-league validation. So much of this research was focused on homelessness and culture clash and socio-economics in America, as that was my “dissertation” that got me discounted master’s classes for my BA in Anthropology. Anyway, my point was that I thought this noble, proud university that put out so much research was going to be situated in something of a utopia, where their research is put into practice. Obviously, I was wrong, but I didn’t expect how wrong. (I had also started reading Leigh Bardugo’s Ninth House, so... there’s another thing).

My observations were validated by employees of ivy-league schools, who have watched over the past 2 decades as they grow more and more reclusive, hiding away from the public except through a few, probably well-intentioned, outstretched hands that do little to contribute to the world outside the university itself. These ivory towers are built by poaching: environments, observations, resources, research, and yeah, even students.

I love academia. I will sit in a library for hours just pulling down tomes (and putting them back in their proper locations like a dork) and drawing connections just for fun. But right now, I’m a bit bitter and spiteful and angry.

When something like Coronavirus sneaks up on us, we have a tendency to throw the most expendable people under the bus as quickly as we can, and all I can think about is my shadow of a suite-mate sneezing and coughing with swine flu for two weeks, at how I refused to use my own bathroom and listened to my hall-mates’ advice about showering at the rec center a mile away as we all collectively locked our bathroom doors and were left there by the university to get sick without insurance to help with any foreseeable costs.

It’s not the same now, they’ve rebuilt the entire section of the campus, it’s odd to see it, I wonder where they put the expendable kids. Or maybe they don’t accept them anymore. I’ve worked in college admissions since then, and it is a scary industry of politics and preference and hidden quotas and image-agendas. Not all schools are industry monsters, but when you’re expendable, they sure do feel like it, whether you graduate summa cum laude with two degrees, six awards, and five tasseled ropes around your neck or not.

I wish I had a positive message. I wish I was in a place to help people who feel expendable or like they can’t keep up with communications because of technology or language or network or environment. But I don’t have much right now. For all its posturing and linear progression, academia needs to create profit. All I can do is yell about this existing.

If you are feeling expandable in university, I can tell you you’re not alone. I can let you rant about all the small ways your peers don’t get it, whether its an accent they shit on or ceremonies you don’t have the right clothes for or textbooks you share with a friend to cut costs but then they hoard them. I can relate to you about guilt and that sneaking panic that fills you with anxiety at night as you question yourself and wonder if it’s worth it at all, if it’s necessary, if it’s okay to be expendable to follow something that feels bigger. I can validate your doubt and tell you that you’re not actually expendable, you’re a bridge.

I’m sorry it still works like this. I wish we figured out how to change it by now, I wish I had secret shortcuts to tell you about, that there was more accountability or hope, but I’m not seeing it lately. I hope you do. <3

#academia #anthropology #sociology #university #culture #h1n1 #coronavirus #poverty #wealth gap #elitism

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pebblysand · 4 years ago

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[SEPTEMBER ‘21] - THE LIFE/WRITING UPDATE NO ONE ASKED FOR (AND SOME QUICK LINKS)

well, hello hello, welcome, it is september first and hogwarts is back in session, haha! where’s your letter, did you get it? i hope so!

in true gryffindor fashion, i’m a summer person. i like parties, the beach and hot weather, so i’m currently working hard, trying to delay the inevitable return of autumn and the dreaded back-to-school mood by staying in sunny southern france for a few more days. i’ll be back in dublin on saturday where, as per usual, rain has been scheduled to occur upon my return lol.

Anyway, before diving into more life/writing updates, here are some quick links to different blog pages you might not see on mobile :

to read my fics [updated]

to read my original work

fic recs

to read my tumblr rants about stuff

[NOTE: i am currently not accepting prompts. i already have a backlog, folks.]

Castles (chap 9) ETA: optimistic? 19 September. realistic? october.

links extended a/n-s: chapter v ; chapter vi & vii ; chapter viii

[more life/writing updates under the cut]

what i’m reading:

i’m actually quite happy with my book reading this month. i read a friend’s short-ish (27k) story, as well as two full books, and started a third. i wanted my holidays to be a time of catching up with missed reading opportunities, and it definitely was.

first, i read three rooms by jo hamya. i picked this one up because it was recommended by my bookshop, was written by a BAME author, marketed as a ‘millenial’ literary fiction novel which i’m always a sucker for, and the cover looked intriguing. the story is that of an unnamed narrator in her early/mid-twenties, navigating the end of her masters degree and her first job in london. to be honest, as i previously said in another post, i don’t particularly fancy myself as a book critic so i don’t really like to say negative things about the books i read. as an author, i know how hard things can hurt when people are talking about your writing sort-of behind your back and i’m always paranoid that the author might one day see what i’ve written, lol. this being said, what i will say about this book is that while not bad, it wasn’t really a fit for me. the writing is very good, crisp and quick just the way i like it (though if you get irritated by the current trend of not using quotation marks for dialogue, you might get irritated by this), but i just found it hard to relate to the characters. i think you will like this if you like books that are more about their setting and their world rather than plot or character. the author is really good at describing current britain, life in london, the book is brilliant at describing the millennial ‘world’ of social media, politics, etc. but its main character seems to just aimlessly float through her life without any sense of self or purpose, which i personally found very frustrating. the book addresses issues of class, poverty, temp contracts, housing prices, discrimination but it feels very much like a matter-of-fact statement rather than an actual argument to change things. the other characters are mildly more purposeful but very single-purpose and while the novel is interesting but it didn’t really make me feel anything beyond an intense desire to grab the narrator by the shoulders and scream: do something! three stars.

then, i read incendiary by chris cleave. full review here. this book is just unreal and the best fiction i’ve read in close to a year. if i could give ten stars i would.

i’ve now started an american marriage by tayari jones. unless you’ve been living under a rock, this has probably been recommended to you a billion times already, but what can i say, i’m always late lol. i’m only about 100 pages in but seems promising.

in terms of fanfic, i honestly haven’t read much bar this one fantastic spooks au of which i really wish there was more of. i have trolled all of livejournal and dreamwidth to find the rest and came up empty. tragic.

what i’m writing:

funny how the girl on a writing break still managed to put out circ. 9,000 words in a month, lol. granted, pick me choose me love me was written in july, but still.

this being said, i do feel like i took time off and i do feel way better than i did back in july. looking back, i was exhausted and burnt out and felt like i was mostly writing to fulfill people’s expectations, rather than to make me happy. i’m now feeling much more confident with my words. the story that i did write this month was a self-indulgent bit of fun because it was written for a fandom no one cares about, and rather liberating, if i’m honest. i think i needed to write something for me and my audience of three again, and it was great. i genuinely love that story. i do think that if you want to give it a try, it might be one of those that can be read without having watched the show in question because it’s about a side character so a lot of what’s in there is original rather than show-related. if you do want to read it, it’s here: listening to that angel choir.

in terms of upcoming projects, i’m happy to announce that i’m actually excited to get back to castles, which is exactly what i wanted this break to achieve. i’m waiting until i get back to dublin to get back to work but i’m ready to dive back in and honestly can’t wait. as i said above the cut, i would love to put it on the 19th September but i’m not sure that i’ll manage to whip out next chapter this quickly. it’s not unheard of, so we shall see. also, castles is turning a year old on 16 sep, which is absolutely fucking insane. i certainly did not think it would be this massive of a project when i undertook it, lol. the numbers on it both in terms of wordcount and appreciation/hits give me vertigo so i try not to look at them but honestly, i can’t thank you all enough. i know i always say this but i come from very small audiences and fandoms and the amount of love i’ve been getting this past year thanks to all of you has meant the world. thank you.

in terms of one shots, i’ll be mostly focusing on castles this month, so i probably won’t write anything else. this being said, for those of your on tumblr, just be aware that you might see me repost some of the tumblr ficlets that i posted on tumblr these past few months on ao3 soon-ish. i initially decided to keep them on tumblr alone because they were too short but i’ve been having anxiety about tumblr collapsing and these things disappearing into the ether. so, don’t be alarmed, they should be the same, just reposted.

what i’m doing:

honestly, this month has been amazing, especially the past three weeks. i’ve been able to relax, see family & friends, went hiking, had my birthday, hired a boat - it’s been fab. as alluded to before, i’ve also been having fun rewatching spooks, which is definitely a series worth watching, even ten years after it ended. i find it even more fascinating in light of what is going on in afghanistan at the moment, and of course the presence in the show of rupert penry-jones whom i think every straight woman with a pulse fancies, is an added bonus.

anyway, i hope you’re all doing well. see you next month for pumpkin spice lattes (yeah, look, i’m a basic white girl) and the beginning of my seasonal depression.

lots of love,

pebblysand.

#life update #september

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black-streak · 5 years ago

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Waiting for the Worms - Outside the Wall

Part 19

Hey guys, very short, laid back chapter. I finished up writing my timari spitefest work and then immediately had a 6 month old puppy brought into my life. She likes sleeping on my hand. If you guys want, I'll post a picture of her, but the point is that writing may slow down significantly due to training and cuddles. Sorry this is almost more of a filler.

Wonderfully patient CLOSED taglist: @northernbluetongue @thethirdwheelfriend @shizukiryuu @theatreandcomicfreak @michellemagic @karategirl119 @moonlightstar64 @my-name-is-michell @mystery-5-5 @zalladane @queen-of-the-trash-planet-tm @miraculousdisapointment @dorkus-minimus @jardimazul @allthebooksandcrannies @g-arya @worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry @persephonescat @mycupisbroken @luciferge @18-fandoms-unite-08 @dawnwave16 @alwaysreblogneverpost @kris-pines04 @emjrabbitwolf @mysteriouslyswimmingfan-blo-blog @weird-pale-blonde-person @you-will-never-know-how-i-think @kokotaru @naclychilli @slytherinhquinn @clumsy-owl-4178 @ladybug-182 @darkthunder1589 @evil-elf16 @dast218 @lysslovsanime @emilytopaz @naoryllis @iloontjeboontje @thepeacetea @danielslilangel @finallyaniguana @i-like-fairytail-and-stuff @vixen-uchiha @yuulxd @bleeding-heart-romantic @magic-inthe-stars @st0rmy-w1th1n

~---~

Walking through the portal, Jason took in the sight of his team dropping their transformations one at a time, taking no mind to the kid who walked in behind him. Guess it didn't really matter. What are the chances he would recognize them in any manner that mattered? Plus, they wanted the kid to feel comfortable here. That he could trust them.

Marinette walked over to him, barely glancing at the awkward Robin standing out of place.

"Alright, reprieve is over. You'll never adjust to your body this way," she said with an apologetic smile, lacing their fingers together and both loosening their crushing grip on their bond they'd been holding for the last two hours. As they both relaxed their minds, they slipped back into their own bodies, souls settling happily into their rightful place.

Placed properly, Jason turned towards the Robin in the room, offering a lopsided smirk, "Welcome to the shitshow."

He shuffled his feet, "I don't plan…"

"On staying. Yes, we know Timothy. It's okay," Marinette helped him out, smile soft.

His shoulders tensed and narrowed eyes stared them down, staying quiet.

"Look, replacement, we're not trying to intimidate you or anything. We know Bruce's identity. Comes with being one of his charity cases, you know? It's not difficult to figure out which kid ended up in his care next," he intoned, trying to help Timothy see their lack of intentions towards revealing his identity.

"We only thought it fair you should be made aware of what exactly we know. I imagine it would be quite unsettling to think you had the upper hand on us only to find out later that we knew the whole time," Marinette chimed in next.

They watched as his face screwed up with an off put expression only to nod his assent, "That would bother me more, yeah."

"My name is Marinette," she put her hand out towards him, waiting patiently.

"Tim," he carefully shook her hand, staying almost formal despite the informal correction, "So the part about you getting stuck in the former Robin's body during his death. That's why you share the madness you mentioned before?"

"Lazarus Pit insanity. So fun. Definitely recommend," Jason decided to butt in, noticing the way Tim focused on Marinette the moment they switched bodies, "we were both dipped in a way, though she got the short end of the stick. My body, her soul."

"So some of it transferred due to it contaminating her soul then?" Tim asked, finally looking at him.

"Pretty much. Splitting it up this way makes it easier to handle," Marinette answered.

Tim seemed to consider this for a moment, "why are you answering me so willingly?"

"What purpose would hiding it serve?" He countered, receiving a surprised silence in response.

"I'm sorry you had to witness that out there. I'm sure that couldn't have been pleasant," Marinette slowly brought her hand to his shoulder, leaving plenty of time to move if the kid decided the contact was unwanted. When Tim allowed it, eyes still almost glaring, she smiled up at Jason and led the boy further into the room while he followed behind.

Zeroing in on where Marc stood on the phone, he gave a curious look only for Marc to end the call and curiously glance at the screen before turning back to the room at large, "That was Alfred. He can't make it here for a few days due to the giant man baby that's currently throwing a fit, but apparently someone else will be coming by tomorrow to speak to you two," This was partially directed towards Tim, but mostly to himself, "Said one would know her as a bat, the other as the eye in the sky."

"Barbara's coming? Oh great! It's been entirely too long since we've seen her!" Mari perked up, "did he say when to expect her?"

"Around eleven," they easily replied, picking their way over towards the trio, "sorry about holding you down by the way. Couldn't let you get caught up in that mess. My name is Marc," was directed at Robin.

"So… you were the mice?"

"They were the mice, yes. I'm Juleka. I was the one who brought you to the portal."

"The fox then, and you were likely the cat?" Tim directed towards Kagami.

"Kagami. In the next room over is Chloe."

"The one who opened the portal."

Jason felt a strange sense of appreciation for how quickly Tim placed the identities together. As well as a sense of dread. This kid was too bright, too sharp, based on what Mari told him, to be so easily fooled by Bruce. To not see how toxic that environment was. What happened to his replacement to make him so willing to overlook it all?

At this point a small hand slipped into his as Chloe introduced herself to the boy, having entered the room a moment before. Looking down, he took note of Damian huddling closer to him, watching the scene unfold.

"Another one?" The kid grumbled, tightening the grip on his hand and looking none too pleased, "I know you said I'd have to adjust to new people, but isn't this a bit much?"

"I don't know, kid, you seem pretty accepting of me," Jason tilted his head, watching the kid stiffen slightly, a blush overcoming his face.

"I hadn't realized you changed back yet," Damian replied, though he remained gripping his hand as they watched Tim interact with the others, "Will they all leave already?" The kid added, drawing his eyes back down to the uncomfortable shifting. Glancing at the clock, he figured he might as well indulge Damian every now and then.

"Chloe, lead the herd, would you?" He asked, maintaining eye contact to get his point across.

"Alright you lot, time to head out. Surely Robin won't be too comfortable around all of us for very long."

There was a touch of an argument over this, but eventually the team picked themselves up around the apartment and headed out, saying they might stay away for a few days. Jason caught the grateful smile on Marinette's face and took his small victory in how Damian pulled him back a little when he moved, as though afraid he might leave as well.

When the apartment quieted down and everything went still, he took a deep breath and led the kid over towards the kitchen, feeling Marinette move behind him to follow. He set a pot onto the stove and filled it with milk to heat up, turning to look through the cabinets while it heated up, "Have you ever had Hot Chocolate, kid?"

"You mean melted? Once. I was given a piece to hide, but it melted a bit," Damian answered, sounding disappointed, though at only having it once or having to admit letting it melt, he wasn't sure, "Why?"

"Not quite what I meant. But I'll take it as a no. We're gonna have some tonight then," Jason responded, pulling down a bag of milk chocolate chips. They'd have to do. He pulled his hand up to ruffle the kid's hair, chuckling as he yanked back with a sneer, shuffling over to duck into Marinette's side, who'd been holding easy conversation with Tim all the while, carefully not commenting on the way the Robin pulled off his mask carefully and was beginning to calm down now that there weren't as many people. Jason chose this moment to eavesdrop, now that he no longer had to occupy Damian.

"Why's the new one still here?"

"Damian, this is Tim. He needed a place to stay."

"Why does it have to be here?"

"The same one who wronged Jason and I has wronged him as well. I imagine being around people who understand his position and won't judge him helps."

Jason chose to speak up now, "Marinette took you in when you had no one. When the two of you understood each other and felt connected for it. That's how you came to be family. He and I have a similar understanding."

"So he is family to you?"

"Nah, think more like when you first met her."

"You are… Wanting to protect him despite not personally knowing him. Instinct."

"Now you got it," he responded, pouring four mugs of the beverage, ignoring the calculating gaze between his shoulder blades. Then went about handing them out despite Tim's reassurance that he was fine, "drink it or don't, won't bother me either way, but I'm not going to leave you out."

Damian remained silent up until this point, observing the young teen curiously before passing his final judgement, "okay, as long as he sticks with you," the unspoken threat to keep away from Marinette did not go unheard.

"No one will take your place in my heart, little one. That place was created for you. If I become close to anyone else, they'll have to find their own place. Yours is occupied," she assured, as they both pretended not to hear his unbelieving grumbles. That lesson would be learned with time.

Through it all, Tim kept to himself, sipping slowly and watching their interactions. Jason couldn't know what the boy thought, but if he had to wager a guess, he probably felt suspicious over how open and honest they were. Confused by their relation to Damian, but unsure if it was safe to ask. Likely, the teen just wasn't sure what to make of it all and wouldn't for quite a while.

It'll take time and reassurance, probably even multiple visits from Alfred and Barbara to convince Tim that this was a safe place for him, but they had time to spend.

#maribat #jasonette #ml x dc #WFTW #part 19 #Alfred and Barbara will be in part 20

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sushiandstarlight · 5 years ago

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Clearing the Air

Read this story on AO3

It had been two weeks since the world appeared to be at it’s end- and then, wasn’t. Two weeks after they had shared a terrified bus ride, hands clasped on the seat between them. Scared that this was the end of all things, that it was the end of them and all that they had shared. Scared, perhaps even more so, that it may be the very beginning of all things for the two of them. Uncertain, to put it mildly, that tomorrow may put an end to this tiny sprout of a thing. Or, might create a world where they had to live with the consequences of the thing. Six thousand years they had run: from their sides yes, but ultimately from this thing between them.

And then... the world didn’t end.

They had chosen this world as the place they would stand their ground and they had chosen one another- their side, their world. They had worn each other’s skin to protect what they had- both, in the quiet tension before detainment, having thoughts that only a short time ago they’d held this hand. That they knew the shape of it, the warmth, the rough spots, and the softness. Feeling that connection to the other side.

There wasn’t time to discuss it and, really, that wasn’t something they did. Drunken nights discussing flailing Kraken or dolphins [the fate thereof] or trying to figure out if ducks had ears in the park as the sun crested the trees. Afternoons with the angel’s nose in a book and the demon gleefully stirring up trouble on his mobile.

There had been numerous times in the years spent on this world that they had gone long bouts without contact. Early on, their meetings were purely accidental. Or, at the very least, not planned on their own parts. Thwarting and miracles and stirring up trouble- it was just the job. They didn’t get a choice on where they were sent or when. And, even afterwards, when they found they enjoyed the company they moved like chess pieces: trying to keep the air of random chance when really it was anything but. In those times, they could go months or years without a sighting of one another.

There had always been plenty of time. Being immortal meant time slipped along like a quiet stream. You could take a dip and enjoy the moment, but the steady movement was really irrelevant in the long run. The sun shining down, the same way. It was still the same stream or light, all things considered. Things changed, but they also stayed very much the same.

But, being reminded that that immortality was actually only at the will of some higher power or in the hands of a capricious ruling body in Her stead? It made every handful of water, every face full of warm sunshine, feel more precious than before. One could focus on a moment of skin on skin and fixate. Moments could become worlds all their own.

That didn't mean it was easy to acknowledge them. Far from it, in fact. Because what if a moment meant more to you than it did to someone else? A moment of connection shared in a dark, stressful time might be only that: a brief need for comfort, taken when it was needed and never sought after again. Or, it could be more. Something longed and hoped for- an impossibility made real, somehow. Something forbidden and rebuked, but impossible to shake. A slow-burning ember, just waiting to be coaxed into a roaring flame.

It had been two weeks and neither of them knew which it was to the other, only what it meant in their own heart.

Aziraphale was, he thought, a patient enough being. He was usually content to be alone with his books: a millennia of human stories. The stream of time could ebb and flow outside his cocoon of a bookshop and there was very little to mark it. The thwarted apocalypse had marked it, surely, even if only because his safe place had been threatened, destroyed even, though, thankfully, he had missed the sight of it. Even that he would eventually compartmentalize, given enough time and distance from the event.

But, that bus ride. That moment of connection. That hope that blew hard on the ember that had, for so long, clung to life despite his efforts to ignore it. In another millennia, he would not forget it, regardless of whether it meant as much to both of them or not. Only, one option would hurt more. Who else did he have save Crowley? Who else would he ever find? There were no other matches- only two beings on their side. A fact recently acknowledged, but that was how it had always been. He had been truly deluded to ever think otherwise. The companionship in heaven had never warmed him the way that just sitting, side-by-side, on a park bench with Crowley had.

The slip of paper he found wedged under his shop door came as a welcome surprise. It was clearly the demon's scrawl. Even his penmanship, or the lack thereof, was enough to make the angel's heart flutter. Crowley hadn't disappeared; he wasn't done with him. Their friendship had meant more than a means to an end. Yes, it said all of that to Aziraphale, but in context. Context had been most of their communication over the years. All of it, really. Rarely had they ever spoken of the things that truly mattered in plain terms.

“The park, 11am, Tuesday. -C” was all it actually said. What Crowley would hate to know was what Aziraphale easily detected: this was the last of several attempts to write a note. The impressions of all the previous words left hills and valleys all over the paper. He couldn't read them, of course, but he knew what they meant. They meant that Crowley had been nervous about contacting him. This wasn't an assignment. It wasn't to discuss world-ending business. It couldn't, at all, be written off as work-related. Crowley wanted to see him just... because. At the very least, he missed Aziraphale. At the most... Well. Aziraphale tried not to dwell too hard on the possibilities.

Crowley had missed their time together. If that's all it was- that he got to see the demon.... That they stuck to discussing squid communication strategies over actually talking about what they were- that was okay, right? They had fought for and won the time again. They could ignore the stream and sit in the shade together. The world could go on around them and things could stay the same as they had always been. But, it was hard to shake, this feeling of mortality that shivered down his spine. He had been ended. His life that should have marched on into eternity had been over. Yes, he had returned, obviously. But, the movement of time, the way it ticked by relentlessly, that was difficult to leave behind.

The days until they were to meet seemed to stretch and ache with the wait of it. Why did Crowley need so much notice, he groused to himself. What pressing things did he have to do that meant putting Aziraphale off? But, really, he just missed the demon. A few more days shouldn't be any worse than the prior two weeks. Oh, but time was cupped in his hands now. He held it and then it slipped away. He held the next and watched it go.

Before he knew it, despite counting the moments, it was Tuesday. Absurdly, he found himself in front of his bedroom mirror, every bowtie he owned strewn across the rarely-used bed behind him. It was nearly 10:30 now, but none of them seemed right. He wasn't sure why he was worried about which bowtie to wear to see Crowley. Crowley didn't seem to actually like any of them. Still, it would, perhaps, give the demon something to comment on. Something to break the two and a half weeks of confusing silence. But, none of them seemed to be the right one and he had no time to get another. He could miracle one, of course. But that wouldn't be the same. Too much detectable effort for something that should be trivial. Crowley would know. It could spook him.

Aziraphale gave it up as a loss, going without. It felt a little scandalous: having his shirt undone at the top and exposing a little bit more of his throat. There was precedent for that, though. There had been ages before bowties existed. Terrible times. Okay times. Now was better, surely. Not just because of bowties, but they certainly helped. None of this forethought stopped him when he reached the gate of the park and paused to straighten the absent bowtie. His hands fluttered at his neck for a moment before he clasped them, resolutely, behind his back.

It wasn't nearly as hard to find Crowley as he'd thought, considering the lack of direction in the note. A demonic miracle floated on the breeze, he could smell it. Somehow, the light smell of char settled him. It was familiar, as was the prickling that went down his spine and ruffled his tucked-away feathers. That's what it felt like to be around Crowley and it was a greater relief than even he thought it would be.

He followed the sensations down a winding side-path that he was certain had not existed the last time he had been to the park. It was dotted along the sides with salvias in full bloom- red and blues mixed together. He was vaguely familiar with the flower from one of Crowley's many long one-sided, often drunken, discussions on plants. It occurred to him that they might be meaningful, but if Crowley had mentioned a meaning for them, he couldn't remember it.

The path abruptly ended and opened into a perfectly circular clearing. And there, in the center, sat Crowley. Under him was a blue and red checkered blanket strewn with the contents of a picnic basket which sat by his right hip. There was no way all the treats had fit inside that basket without a miracle- the finger sandwiches and pastries, coffee and mugs, wine in a bucket of ice with it's own glasses that perched upright on the blanket against their will.

The most arresting bit of all, though, was Crowley himself. His wings were out and spread in great arcs over the picnic. The feathers caught the sunlight as it streamed down on him, bouncing it off his black feathers in shimmers of blues and greens and even gold. And, speaking of gold, Aziraphale paused at the head of the trail when he noticed that Crowley's glasses were nowhere to be seen. When Aziraphale dared to meet the demon's golden eyes, Crowley swallowed hard, but held his gaze. The very trees in the clearing seemed to bend their leaves around he demon with a very peculiar, but not entirely uncomfortable, tension.

Here he had thought a miracled bowtie would be too much of a give-away and Crowley had miracled a secluded alcove in the park, a picnic of everything portable that he enjoyed, and he was barring himself in near public as he had never dared to do since the beginning.

Aziraphale approached slowly, hands now fidgeting in front of him, unable to tear his eyes from Crowley's. His heart hammered all the harder the closer he got, no matter how sternly he told it that the pounding was unnecessary. Finally, after just a few moments that felt like something more, he was at the edge of the blanket. He knelt across from Crowley and took in his friend, smiling genuinely if a bit nervously. This all definitely looked like... something. But, there was always, always room for misinterpretation.

“No bowtie?” Crowley was smirking and it did wonders to settle the angel's flip-flopping stomach. This was Crowley. He was safe, no matter what the context.

“No glasses?” Banter. Banter they could do.

“I thought,” and Crowley broke the eye contact they had thus far maintained, but then seemed to shake himself and resume it with purpose, “I thought we could meet here, with- without pretense.”

“No pretense?” Aziraphale settled down further onto the blanket and if his knee was nearly brushing Crowley's, well, that was okay now, right?

“Open, honest, without walls,” a ripple went through Crowley's wings and it seemed he might put them away, “I thought we could be... us. Just us.”

“Just us?” Aziraphale shook out his own wings and watched with no small amount of pleasure as Crowley's eyes traveled over them, his face going slack before smiling a beautifully genuine smile. When was the last time he'd seen the demon smile? Not a smirk, not a grimace, but a smile? It made Aziraphale want to dare the world- to leave his wings out for the rest of eternity- just to ensure that he could go on pleasing the demon, “I think that sounds lovely, my dear.”

“Ngk,” at the use of the endearment, Crowley's eyes snapped away and then, resolutely back to his, “it's not like we have excuses now, anyway.”

“Excuses, what for?”

“Don't be a complete bastard, Angel.”

Aziraphale smirked at him and cocked his head in question. His confidence was rising by the moment that his was exactly what he thought it was. Still, he wanted it confirmed.

“I missed you, okay?” Crowley bumped his knee with his own and then... left it there, the two of them pressed together. Aziraphale pressed back and watched, in wonder, as Crowley relaxed. His wings stopped shifting. He seemed to somehow melt back down into himself.

“You could have just dropped by the shop,” Aziraphale trailed off as he watched the demons eyes dart away again, “or called?”

“I'm not sure I can... I wondered if...,” Crowley cursed and took a deep breath, “Openness: I may need time getting over seeing our home in flames, Aziraphale. Knowing... knowing that you were gone. That I was alone. And, I don't- I don't just mean against the end of the world, you know? I mean, if I won? What would I really gain if you were still gone?”

“You would have gone on, darling, yes?” Aziraphale only noticed after he had done it that his hand was now resting on the demon's other knee. He left it there.

“... yeah, but it wouldn't have been the same...”

“Why not?”

Crowley gave him an incredulous look even as Aziraphale squeezed his knee in encouragement. Aziraphale was leaning closer to him now, even as Crowley sat still, starring grumpily at him.

“Obviously, you have gone to a lot of trouble here for me, Crowley. No walls, no pretenses. Whatever it is you're trying to tell me you know you can just say it, right?”

There was a long pause where Aziraphale watched the demon struggle with himself, his eyes darting down and then up, as if looking for help somewhere, anywhere. He swallowed and then shuddered, his mouth opening and then shutting again. Finally, the angel took some pity on him. He offered his hand to Crowley and the demon took it. Then he pulled it towards him slowly, pressing a soft kiss to the palm.

“It's just us, Crowley, no walls. You invited me here because you want me here and I am glad for it. I came at your summons as I always will, darling, because I wish to be with you. There's nothing you could tell me or ask me that would send me away save the direct instruction to do so. Even then, I would try to dissuade you of the notion before taking my leave.”

“I've half a mind,” Crowley chuckled damply, “to test that, Aziraphale. All the times you've sent me away. No, let me finish. I know why you did it. Really, I understand. I pushed you too hard because I was scared. I wanted you on my side- our side- I thought I was running out of time.”

“You were,” Aziraphale squeezed the hand he now held captive in his lap, “you- we- were running out of time.”

“It worked out though.”

“Yes.”

“And we're on our side now.”

“Yes, dear.”

“That's what matters,” Crowley nodded resolutely, “All of this... I wanted to celebrate that.”

Aziraphale took in the spread of food and drink again before responding.

“That's all?”

“You're going to make me say it, aren't you?”

Aziraphale stared up at him through his eyelashes, but the look was ruined when he laughed.

“I love you, you bastard.” Crowley tried to tug his hand back, but Aziraphale held it steadily in his lap, smirking as the demon struggled. Then, without warning, he stopped fighting and allowed himself to be pulled forward with all of Crowley's force. Crowley tumbled backwards, his wings stretching out to either side of him as he fell- there was no way they could catch him. Still clutching his hand, Aziraphale landed, sprawled on top of him.

“What?” Crowley blinked up at him in shock, both his hands- one just freed- hanging in the air on either side of the angel smirking down at him.

“Oh, my silly serpent,” Aziraphale pressed his forehead to Crowley's and met his eyes without mercy, “I love you, too.”

What happened from one moment to the next was unclear. He had missed a burble in the stream of time and lost it. All he knew was that Crowley's lips were on his and his hands were in his hair. When the stream resumed, he kissed him back with fervor. He worked his hands under the demon's shoulders and pulled him over as they rolled, knocking over the ice bucket and the glasses- though neither cared. He reached behind the demon, over his shoulder blades, and into the delicate feathers that connected them to his wings. Crowley whimpered and arched into him, finally breaking the kiss.

“Why, Angel, is that a hardback novel in your pocket or are you just really happy to see me?”

“Crowley... I am always more than happy to see you.” And then to ensure no more interruptions, he kissed him again.

A breeze rustled through the clearing, combing through feathers entangled: ebony and ivory. It traveled upwards and away from them, carrying a relieved sigh through the leaves of the trees.

#aziraphale x crowley #crowley x aziraphale #ineffable husbands #good omens #good omens fic #star light-reads #i had no idea this had become a 3k+ monster until i started typing it up #whew lol

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xenoredux · 5 years ago

Text

Balto but its been rewritten 24 years after its release

Okay so here's the Balto rewrite lol. It's quite a bit different then The Actual Thing but the plot itself is much the same, as are the major beats of the story. I dropped a lotta goofy shit in there just because it made me laugh, but try and imagine this stuff happening as if it's from an actual 90s movie made by a studio on its last legs.

Some things to know going into it:

I cut out the live actions segments because they seriously didn't matter at all. Like, who cares. The plot is fine without them and I don't think that one line from Rosie at the end makes a huge difference. I guess it's nice to see the statue but even than it's like..... whatever

In my fantasy world, Balto was a standalone movie that didn't spark any sequels. Eventually I'll write out my version of the sequels if they'd actually been good, but in the universe of this rewrite for this film, a Balto "franchise" never existed, hence why the ending is sorta different

It's still a "historical" fiction that holds very little relation to the actual events. There's a touch more actual history in there, but c'mon. You're not reading talking dog movie fanfic to learn anything. Pick up a book if you care about the actual serum run and don't get on my juicy ass about it if some things remain inaccurate

Please also note that I didn't baby this as much as I should have, so some major plot elements that are kinda stupid are likely still in there (I'm not a good writer lbr). I don't believe this is necessarily "better" then the OG, I just tweaked some stuff that always pissed me off about it. I also re-included cut content I thought was more interesting and made more sense then what we ended up getting.

There's also a handful of fake screenshots throughout for shits and giggles, and I'll likely have at least one or two more to share later this month. Some links to past character designs are also provided for easy reference so you can make up scenes in your head but with Brand Spankin’ New Designz.

So here's Balto v2.0!

The year is 1925, and it's wintertime in Nome, Alaska. Two dogsled teams are participating in a race. A malamute named Steele leads his team against a powerful, but older and more experienced mutt named Wild Joe. Steele, despite being a decorated and much beloved champion lead dog, is a massive dick, and he snaps at a critical moment at one of Joe's teammates. Joe's team wipes out, his chances of winning are in shambles, and Steele is waaay in the lead.

A flare is shot into the air to let the enthused waiting townsfolk know that Steele's team has passed the race's 3 mile mark. Meanwhile, watching from his perch on the balcony of a house, a wolfdog named Balto excitedly bounds back and forth, unable to contain his excitement. He simply cannot sit still despite the protests of his closest friend Boris, an old Russian-Jewish goose who isn't a fan of all the excitement. Balto drags Boris around the roofs of the houses, ignoring his chiding all the while, until he can see the finish line of the race.

Back down on Earth, a young girl named Rosie is inside a woodworker's shop. She's receiving a gift she adores: a beautiful handmade sled, perfectly fitted to her size. The sled includes a harness in front that also perfectly fits her dog, a purebred copper Siberian husky named Jenna. Rosie's parents playfully lecture her to not lose the sled like she loses her other belongings. Almost as quickly as she receives the sled, Rosie and Jenna are trotting down the street in their new getup.

Jenna comes to rest in the race's sidelines among a group of other female dogs. The smallest of them all, a Pomeranian named Dixie, chides Jenna for allowing herself to be made a sled dog, even if it is in the spirit of make believe. After all, a canine of her slender frame and social standing shouldn't be performing manual labor. Jenna sighs at her friend's internalized misogyny and eugenics talk, rolling her eyes as if to say "oh you!"

Nor should someone of her persuasion be meeting up with any strays, Dixie continues while going on to show her racist side, for Balto and Boris have just plodded up to the group. The other girls scoff and huff at Balto's arrival, but Jenna and Rosie both are glad to see him. Rosie gives the wolfdog a hug, telling him to keep outta sight of The Parental Units. Just then, Steele's team rounds the corner, and Rosie waves her hat at them as if it's a foam finger and this is the most arduous baseball game in history. A sudden gust of wind picks up her hat and sweeps it into the path of the oncoming team. Rosie begins to panic and, while Jenna soothes her, Balto runs out alongside the advancing sled team to retrieve it.

Balto manages to snag and deliver the hat before Steele passes the finish line, which visibly upsets Steele. His owner speaks to the man who leads Wild Joe's team. He seems unimpressed with Steele's performance, enough so that Wild Joe's owner admits it's likely time that Joe was retired. The two imply that if a sled dog can't even outrun Steele, it's time for him to hang up his harness, even if he is wearing a bitchin' little number they speak in awe of called "A Golden Collar", a veritable necklace of medals awarded to sled dogs who have proven they don't suck. As one can imagine, this pisses Steele off something fierce. He gazes into the reflection of his face in his own golden collar, getting a bit of anger-saliva on it in the process.

The important thing, of course, is that Balto managed to save Rosie's hat. Jenna thanks him and playfully teases him about how nuts he'd have to be to do something like run alongside a car made of dogs, to which the quiet Balto just smiles. Rosie's dad isn't smiling very much, though, because all he saw was the town's favorite punching bag running wild with his daughter's hat. He swears at Balto and kicks snow his way, spooking him into running off down the street. Rosie's dad herds his child away, scolding her for playing with wild animals, while Jenna tries to follow her friend. Unable to recognize where he's not wanted, Steele blocks Jenna's path and starts flexing about his elite gamer/sledding skills. The other girl dogs can barely contain their ovaries around him, but Jenna just politely excuses herself as Steele begins spouting off insensitive remarks about "the howler from the cannery".

But Balto's not going home just yet. He knows exactly how to navigate the neighborhood and find his companion. Boris complains about the cold and how much he's walked around today, so he pisses off back to to their place. Balto simply shrugs and wanders until he finds Jenna again. He trails behind her, hiding in various places along the street as Jenna follows her masters home. Jenna talks passionately about how she'd love to do something big and hella just to show up guys like Steele. Balto encouragingly comments on how he's sure she'd be the best at whatever she did, and she smiles at him in a particularly heterosexual way.

Eventually the two part ways, and Balto decides it's time to go home. As he trots along, he notices a glove that Rosie dropped. He smiles and rolls his eyes as he picks it up and turns to head to Jenna's and give it back. Unfortunately for him, Steele's ego bruises like a banana and heals just about as well, so the meat-headed malamute has dragged along his team to harass the town's token minority once he was alone. The only dog on the team who seems against harassing someone for something they can't control is Star, Steele's smaller, weaker, more cowardly little brother. Steele jeers at Star for being too much of a puss to participate in the g-rated hate crime before rolling a barrel in Balto's direction. Balto's bowled over by it and falls face first into a bucket.

Steele's team howls with laughter, then literally howls in an effort to insult Balto. The words "howler" and "feral" are thrown around a lot as Balto struggles to free his face from the pail. He never manages to, and before Steele can harass him some more, his musher calls out for him and the rest of the team. Steele calls his men to his side and makes his way out. The only one who trails behind is Star, who gingerly pops the bucket off of Balto's head. The two stare wordlessly at each other for a moment, the stunned Balto dwarfing the underdeveloped Star, before Star gets too scared to stay any longer and books it. Balto looks around himself for Rosie's mitten, but he can't find it. He sighs and begins heading towards the harbor.

As Balto walks through the cannery, the other stray and unloved dogs take notice of him and begin jeering at him. Despite how pitiful-looking they are, almost all of them feel the need to tell Balto in livid detail about just how shit he is in comparison because of his wolf heritage. Those who don't jeer hateful words hole up and hide from him as he passes them by.

Boris takes notice of Balto returning home, and he goes to wave to him with his one good wing before noticing something peculiar on the hill by the shoreline: wolves! A small pack of wolves take notice of Balto. They even begin howling to him. It's clear that they're inviting him to join their DnD party, and for a tense moment Boris is afraid Balto will run after them. But Balto simply shrinks away, shaking his head. His shoulders slump and he makes his way to the wrecked boat he and Boris live on.

Boris attempts to cheer Balto up with some wAcKy SlApStIcK cOmEdY before having to realize that harming himself is increasingly silly ways will not cure Balto's bigotry induced depression. He slumps against Balto as the two notice a flock of geese flying overhead. Balto asks Boris what it was like in "the old country", and Boris soothes in the most Russian voice ever conceived what are likely concerns he's heard many times before by assuring Balto he came to Alaska for good reason because the old country sucked. He also assures Balto that the busted wing he has was the best thing that ever happened to him, because it meant he got to live in Nome and find that lonely wolfdog kid those several years back. Balto can't help but crack a smile.

When the sun has gone down, Balto begins to leave the hovel he calls home. Boris reminds him to be careful on his nightly excursion to find food, to which Balto merely smiles and nods. He pads past the sleeping cannery dogs and back towards town.

Meanwhile, Jenna is sitting outside of the hospital doorway. She watches as her masters lead Rosie inside. Rosie's gotten a nasty cough, and she makes an odd wheezing noise when she breathes. As mom and pop speak to the very busy doctor, Rosie gazes out the window at Jenna, waving and smiling at her. Jenna stands up excitedly, but feels her heart sink into her stomach as Rosie has the sort of coughing fit a Flintstone's chewable can't fix. Her parents come to lead her away from the window. Jenna tries her damnedest to find a way to peer inside from around the back. There is a window, but she's unable to reach it, even as she's standing on her hind legs.

Balto, dirty from digging around in garbage, spots Jenna's vibrant red coat from across the way. He calls out to her softly, and though she does acknowledge his greeting, she barely responds. This concerns Balto, and he comes to join her under the window. She explains that she wants to see in, and Balto allows her to climb up and stand on his back to do so. She obliges, too worried about Rosie's well-being to thank him, and gazes longingly inside.

She climbs down from Balto a beat later, saying how she wishes she could understand what was happening in there. Most of what went on was just the doctor talking. Balto pauses and thinks for a moment, and then tells Jenna he has an idea. He leads her around to the boiler room placed adjunct to the hospital where the doctor's dog, a St. Bernard appropriately named Doc, spends his nights. The two make their way inside.

Doc is in fact there, snoring like a buzz-saw on crack. Balto gently wakes him up, and at first he's both annoyed to be woken and offput by The Wolfdog being in his face, but when Jenna explains the situation to him he becomes much more amiable. He leads the two over to the crawlspace under the hospital, stating there's far too much of him to love to allow him to fit under with them. Balto and Jenna thank him and go inside.

The two creep through the creepy underside of the hospital until they find themselves under a grate beneath the doctor's desk. The doctor discusses with the nurses how the children of Nome have diphtheria, a fast acting, aggressive disease that causes fatal epidemics. The anti-toxin he was able to treat the first few cases with has run out, and without it, all infected children will surely die within two weeks' time.

Jenna is unsurprisingly distraught at the idea of her favorite person on the planet dying a slow, painful death, so she scrambles out of the crawlspace and begins crying. Balto follows close behind her to see that Doc has already begun to comfort her. He apologizes for bringing Jenna here, to which Jenna states she's glad he did. Aside from Jenna's gentle sobbing, all is silent for a moment. Suddenly, a loud crash can be heard outside. Everyone turns to see Steele and his dogs have come back to ruin another scene. Doc becomes upset at the sudden influx of uninvited guests crowding up his personal space, so he goes to alert the doctor and get them all the fuck outta there. Meanwhile, the team menaces Balto while Steele tries to impress Jenna by pulling Rosie's missing mitten out of his collar. He offers to walk Jenna home to deliver it to her family as the team, lead by a pitifully unintimidating Star, back a snarling Balto into the corner.

Jenna's obviously not interested in Dog Gaston's posturing, but she's also got an IQ higher then 6 and understands that he's not going to go away simply because she asks him to. As Balto watches from out the corner of his eye, Jenna flirtatiously backs Steele into the glowing red boiler. She mutters something about meatballs under her breath as Steele begins to howl and shriek in pain. The smell of burning dog ass and the cries of a defeated jock archetype alert people to the scene, and all the dogs begin to scatter. Balto and Jenna try to join the reverse flash mob, but Steele flings himself hard into Balto and forces all of them to stumble. Lanterns shine in the literal dogpile's direction. Steele refuses to get off of Balto, so Balto insists that Jenna get away. She forgets about Rosie's mitten, which Balto snags to keep away from Steele's posturing self, and the men finally descend upon the dogs.

Someone pulls Steele off of Balto, and he begins making as if he's injured, intentionally limping and stumbling melodramatically around. The men start to make a fuss about the wolfdog injuring the town's best runner when one of them, Rosie's dad, notices his daughter's missing mitten in Balto's mouth. He begins yelling and kicking at the dog, going on about how he's dangerous and he'd better not go anywhere near his child ever again. Balto tucks tail and barrels out of town, and all the men stroke a miraculously healed Steele to compensate for the trauma of being attacked by a dog half his size.

As Balto pounds pavement, he passes the telegraph office, wherein an important message is being sent. A request for more anti-toxin to treat the epidemic is being relayed, and in it are the details of why this situation is uniquely urgent: the Alaskan winter is doing its worst, bringing blizzards severe enough that ships and planes alike cannot manage to deliver the medicine. Nome's best bet becomes obvious: use a train to deliver the medicine as closely to Nome as they can, then set up relay teams of sled dogs to receive and deliver the anti-toxin.

The morning after the message has been sent, the town organizes a race to test which dogs in town have the highest stats in stamina, speed, and agility. Almost every husky in town is lined up to race... all except a very upset Jenna, who keeps insisting the other dogs make room for her. Some dogs look at her with concern. Others laugh. But most of them seem convinced that her place is here in Nome, keeping her people company and not chipping any of her nails. Dixie tries to lead Jenna away from the race, but Jenna's so pissed that she angrily stomps away from the race altogether.

Balto, who has been hiding around town this whole time, slips out of the shadows to meet her. She vents loudly to him about being disallowed to participate because of the snot-nosed chauvinists running the race. If Balto didn't know the depth of her conviction before, he certainly does now; she begins to cry angry tears over what will happen to Rosie.

Balto can't stand to see a grown womandog cry, but he's worried about what will happen if he tries to line up with the other dogs. Everyone believes he attacked Steele, after all. Nobody would tolerate him joining the race... at least, not while they're all there. He wordlessly slips away from Jenna, assuring her he has a plan. In a moment he's disappeared. The race is about to start, and Boris has hobbled into town. He goes over to Jenna and begins complaining about how Balto didn't come home last night. Jenna tells him it's a long story, but that she's sure he'll turn up again soon. Maybe. Hopefully.

The starting gun is fired off, and the dogs take off with the speed and accuracy of drunken Nascar drivers. Just as soon as they've all bolted, Balto boltos past the starting line right in tow, which causes some reasonable upset among the crowd given word of Steele's definitely-real-not-made-up scuffle with the wolfdog has spread fast.

Despite the jeering Balto is faced with, he continues on. By this point, Jenna and Boris have noticed him running, and they begin to cheer him on as they scramble to keep up with him. Turns out wolves and their relatives are pretty fast.

In contrast to the other dogs, Balto's saving grace isn't just his speed, but his ingenuity. Balto breaks off of the track as he begins advancing on the dogs in an effort to avoid their snarling and snapping at him. He shows his cleverness by traversing obstacles like frozen ponds, hanging pulleys, and crumbling wooden beams that bridge buildings, all while maintaining pace with the other dogs. Any townsfolk who are capable of seeing him are too impressed with his abilities to remember his alleged attempted dogmurder.

To the surprise of literally nobody reading this, Balto manages to cross the finish line before anybody else, which includes an especially tilted Steele. Unexpectedly, several townsfolk cheer for our parkour-loving protagonist, and Balto's face lights up in pleasure, having never experienced praise from basically any human person.

Steele and Wild Joe's mushers come around to give Balto the once over, discussing how he'd be an invaluable asset to any team. Joe's musher believes he'd made a good replacement for Joe now that that dog's been laid off of his animaljob. Balto ingratiates his coy self with a gentle tail wag, and Steele has literally never been more angry in his life. His ego as sore as a freshly kicked-in face, Steele looks around for some way to prove Balto is totes nasty. A toothy grin spreads across his face as he spots Jenna leading a hobbling Boris over, and he quickly rushes the goose and snags him up, carrying him away.

Balto doesn't like seeing his surrogate feathered father being doghandled, so he snarls and chases after Steele, startling the men. The men follow Balto, who is following Steele, who is following his own evil agenda. Steele tosses Boris off the nearby harbor, and the bird struggles to collect himself in the icy water. Balto rushes Steele, still snarling. This spooks Steele's musher, and he begins throwing rocks at Balto. The man tells the wolfdog to stay away from his animal, and he states to Wild Joe's musher why Balto would be useless as a sled dog: he can't manage to get along with other canines. He's too wild. The two men collect Steele and depart as Balto similarly collects Boris, who is little more then a honking popsicle by now.

As Balto begins carrying Boris home, Jenna stops him and asks what happened. Balto gruffly states that Jenna's master would be angry to see her speaking to him. After all, he doesn't get along with other dogs given how wild he is. Jenna is so surprised by her friend lashing out at her that she can't speak, and she watches solemnly and wordlessly as Balto and Boris make like Rosie's health and disappear.

That night, the relay teams are being dispatched. The electric cross hanging on the church steeple is turned on - the pastor says that so long as there's hope for the children, the light will stay lit and the electric bill will stay high - and a handful of teams are sent out, including Steele's. The sick children watch from inside the hospital. Jenna watches from her new favorite spot just under one of the hospital's front windows, her face contorted in worry. From his ship, Balto ignores Boris's cacophanic snoring as he watches the teams head out. He gives a sigh.

A day passes as the relay teams power through the awful weather. Steele's team receives the medicine from another team who just had it delivered to them by train. Now Steele's gang is intended to deliver the medicine once again to the team of a dog named Togo. Unfortunately, Steele's unwarranted self-importance prevents this, as he dislikes the idea of not being the guy to deliver the goods to town. He tells Star that he doesn't need to follow the rules of the relay - he knows the way home and he can do this himself. He intentionally ignores the path to Togo and drags his team helplessly onward, and none of them but Star are any the wiser.

The governor's dog calls a meeting in the boiler room for all the other dogs in town. It's been longer then the townsfolk expected it to take for the meds to arrive, and everyone is getting ants in their collective pants. Balto watches the meeting from outside a window to maintain some discreetness. Doc tries to calm everybody down once they begin panicking, but they're all too much in a tizzy thinking about what will happen to the kids to hear him. Suddenly, the rabbling of the crowd is halted when a sharp, reverberating bark cuts through the noise. Everyone turns to the door.

In the doorframe stands the tall, bulky silhouette of an unknown beefcake. The dog steps into the light, and Wild Joe finally announces his presence verbally and not just cinematically. He informs the dogs that he's had a lot of time to wander since being unharnessed, and tonight he wandered by the telegraph office. He's a gifted enough fella to understand Morse code and the hopeless sighs of an old man sending 1800s text messages, and he informs the dogs that Steele's team broke the relay chain. Nobody knows where they are, which means, more importantly, nobody knows where the medicine is. Wild Joe suggests that the dogs make peace with the passing of their childfolk before he steps back outside and disappears into the snowy night.

Whatever the dogs inside the boiler room are saying, Balto can't hear it. Not just because their voices are drowning each other out, but because he's stricken with too much grief to care. Rosie has only been getting worse. What's going to happen to her?

Meanwhile in the hospital, the doctor is managing as well as one can to explain to the parents of the sick children that their one hope of salvation may or may not be lost to the elements forever. This barely registers with the horribly ill Rosie who, despite being in the same room as a doctor forcing her parents to confront her mortality, is now too sick to lift her head from her pillow. In an effort to afford their child a sliver of comfort, Rosie's folks allows Jenna into her room. Jenna pads loyally over to her girl, and for just a second Rosie's eyes flutter open. "Jenna?" is all she can manage to wheeze out before passing back into unconsciousness. Jenna gloomily rests her head on her owner's chest, whimpering softly.

Balto pads through town. Nobody is really out at night anymore. They're all crowding the hospital to keep close to their children. Balto's main goal is to find Jenna, to discuss this horrible thing with her, but he's distracted as he passes by the woodworker's shop. The same jolly man who had made Rosie her bitchin' new sled was now hunched sadly over a new, much less bitchin', much more morbid project: tiny coffins, each no bigger then 4 feet tall. A small collection of them has formed in a corner of the room. Balto shakes his head and gasps, breaking out of a stupor he was not previously aware he was in. Something has to be done.

The morning sun is peaking out over the horizon when Balto begins to depart from his home. He trots down from the harbor and along the shoreline, aiming to enter the forest the teams left through. Boris is plodding behind him, slipping around on frozen patches of sea water and flopping around in puddles of slush. He's going on and on, trying desperately to convince Balto not to waste his efforts on a town of people who'd be perfectly happy if he were dead. Balto doesn't reply, instead flashing Boris a solemn look. His eyes light up with new intention, and he grabs Boris by the beak, dragging him along as the old goose honks angrily.

Balto releases Boris as the two come to the back of the hospital. Jenna, who had once again settled out front, hears the commotion of the intensely pissed off bird wailing and honking. Balto wordlessly releases Boris, and just before Boris can complain further, Jenna comes over to the two. She and Balto share one miserable, knowing look before Jenna begins to cry. She presses her face into Balto's neck, weeping softly into his fur. Another child is herded into the hospital by a concerned parent. The girl wheezes and shakes violently as the door closes behind her. Boris looks on, all anger having subsided.

Instead, he says in a very business-like tone that Balto needs to hurry up if he's going to find the lost team. And he shouldn't keep Boris waiting. Boris is an old man who hates waiting more then he hates traveling. Boris begins to waddle off back towards the forest, and Balto can't help but smile. Jenna presses the pause button on crying long enough to ask what Boris means, to which Balto states that neither he nor his old man can stand idly by any longer.

Jenna understands, and she insists that the two allow her to come with them. It pains her to leave Rosie, but the child is barely ever awake at this point, and inaction won't make the situation better. Balto's smile grows wider, and the three take off to find the missing team themselves.

Hours pass. The three haven't ceased their journey, nor does it seem they've given up hope. Boris certainly has got a lot to bitch about, though. And he does this loudly and frequently as Balto and Jenna lead the way, exchanging words. Jenna vents about how it's ludicrous that Steele, a gloryhound who loves the smell of his own farts, was even selected to do the relay given how hard he is to handle. Balto agrees, if a bit softly. Jenna interrogates him gingerly, asking what happened the day of the race. Balto admits that the townsfolk have gone even more sour on him as of late, and that he's been genuinely afraid to be around anybody now... except for Jenna, of course. Jenna reassures him with the same viciously heterosexual smile as before that she'll stand by him no matter what. Balto can't help but smile back.

Meanwhile, elsewhere in the frozen over Hell that is Alaska, Steele is blindly trying to redirect his team onto the trail, but the trail has long gone from his sight. Star, exhausted and growing antsier by the minute, suggests turning around and going back; it's totally obvious now that they're lost. Steele buckles for just a moment before snapping at his brother about how he knows where he's going and, having just told the worst lie in history, begins running directionlessly through the blizzard.

Expectedly, this sends his team careening down into a gully he failed to notice on account of the whole reduced visibility thing. The sled tips over - though it seems the anti-toxin is still secured and unbroken - the musher falls out and hits his head on a rock, and the dogs tumble into a heap. Some of them are bruised. Some of them are worse. But nobody is dead, not even the flame dancing inside the musher's lantern. The only thing that looks dead is Steele's spirit. He stares wide eyed and panting as he realizes the team truly is lost. "What are we gonna do now, Steele?" Star asks hopelessly. Steele doesn't respond.

Night has fallen. It's cold as shit out in the forest, but the three musketeers haven't ceased their journeying yet. Boris, effectively feeding into every stereotype about old men ever, complains about how long this road trip has lasted. Neither Balto nor Jenna have the energy left to respond to him, so they don't. Boris gets huffy and says the kids can keep going if they want, but it's time for him to sleep. He decides to set up a nest on a large snowdrift, and Balto finally gets frustrated and turns to explain to Boris that there's no time to stop now. And then the snowdrift stands up.

A polar bear, hulking and powerful, is standing on its hind legs in front of the dogs. A screaming Russian goose is flapping around on the crown of its head, and the bear immediately begins trying to attack its winged hat. Balto leaps to his grandhonk's rescue, but the bear lands an easy hit on him and sends him flying. The goose isn't nearly as threatening as the wolfdog, so the bear turns to Balto, ready to tear him to pieces.

This understandably displeases Jenna, and she flings herself headlong into the bear to save her friends. She's more lithe and agile then Balto is, which makes it easy for her to dodge most of the bear's swings, but she's not as quick as Balto is, so she still ends up taking a pretty nasty blow to the legs. She flies across the forest floor and strikes Boris, knocking them both to the ground. Meanwhile, Balto's trying to deal with the bear situation on his own. He's not doing so hot, though, as the bear makes like a 90s sitcom bully and starts wailing on him. This sends Balto careening down a hill and across a frozen lake.

The bear quickly follows him. It doesn't seem to notice the ice below it cracking like splintering glass as it walks towards Balto, but Balto sure as hell does. And so do Jenna and Boris, who, despite their injuries, are scrambling to reach Balto before the ice gives. But they're too little too late. The bear takes another step and the busted ice snap crackle pops apart, taking the bear under as it shatters. Balto stumbles away from the gaping icehole that's growing larger and larger.

The bear is thrashing wildly around, foaming up the water and swinging its claws around in the air. Boris thinks fast and grabs Jenna's bandanna to toss out to Balto. As the bear struggles to grab both Balto and the edge of the ice, Balto snags hold of the bandanna and hangs on as his friends drag him from the freezing water. As Balto collapses to the ground, the bear's struggles begin to subside, and finally it drowns.

Balto is badly shaken, but ultimately unharmed. Jenna, however, bit total shit, and now that Balto is safe her strength has left her. Balto and Boris drag Jenna off the lake and lay her down. Balto lays down beside her, shivering hard from his time in the water. Without thinking about it, Jenna pulls herself on top of him, murmuring about how cold he is. Balto tries to argue she should go easy given her injury, but the two go silent instead, smiling gently at each other. Then Balto's eyes light up as he turns to Boris. He thanks the bird for not just saving him, but for coming along in the first place. Boris absolutely beams.

But his grin disappears when the dogs get up... and Jenna falls back down. Balto insists she's too hurt to continue the journey. After all, who knows when they'll find the team? Jenna tries to argue, but falters when Balto insists that without her help he'd be dead now, and he'd be devastated if something happened to her out here. Jenna asks Boris to take her back to Nome when she notices that he's waddled a short distance away. He's gazing intently at something, looking worried and guilty. Balto pads over to where Boris is staring into space to see what the fuss is about.

Turns out the fuss is about two hairy little things: twin polar bear cubs. One is slightly bigger then the other, though he may just be bigger boned then his brother. The two are huddled close to each other, whimpering and cooing. It's obvious they're very young, toddlers at most. "Oh no," murmurs Balto. The cubs gaze up at the two with wide, frightened eyes. Nobody has to guess what happened to their mother, and Balto feels himself overwhelmed with guilt too.

The cubs follow Boris closely as Balto goes back to Jenna. He tells her that he's sorry she can't continue the journey, but that she can help by keeping the bear cubs safe until they know what to do with them. Jenna agrees and the two smile warmly at each other. Jenna offers up her bandanna to Balto "to keep him warm" despite how small it is as Boris helps her onto a large tree branch. Boris begins instructing the cubs on how to help, going demanding grandad on them in record time, and Jenna wishes Balto good luck. Boris pulls Balto aside and, out of obligation to the source material, tells Balto that a dog cannot make such a journey alone... but maybe a wolf can. The group depart, leaving Balto by himself in the snow.

It's a snowy night in Nome. A somber mood hangs so thickly in the air that one can almost taste the chunky sadness. The streets are empty aside from one stray black mass. It's Wild Joe, makin' his way downtown. He passes the hospital and sees a child who is obviously ill but not in bed. Joe's face crinkles in pain as the child, a boy, coughs so hard he wracks his body in great tremors. Joe pulls himself away from the sight and, face to the ground, starts walking faster. In a moment he passes the telegraph office. His ears perk rhythmically to the beeps of the morse code. He whispers sweet nothings to himself like, "Cannot send more antitoxin. Weather too severe. Lost sled team only hope. Our prayers are with them."

Meanwhile, in a somehow less depressing part of the Alaskan tundra, Balto has finally caught sight of a glowing pink light. The wind is too hard for him to smell properly, but as he mounts a rise in the path, he can see clearly what rests at the bottom of the slope. It's the team! The pink glow is the light from the sled's lantern. Balto's so beside himself with joy that he throws himself headlong down the slope, previously unaware of how slippery the embankment really was. He only just manages to gain his footing at the bottom of the hill. The sled dogs look up at him in amazement, unfurling themselves from the miserable balls of fur they'd tried desperately to wrap themselves in. "Balto!" is heard in a wave of gasps.

Balto begins asking a slew of questions. What happened, is the musher okay, etc. etc. Everyone does their best to answer. Everyone, that is, except Steele, who has been sulking wordlessly since Balto arrived. Once he's gotten a satisfactory amount of info on the situation, Balto picks up one of the now empty harnesses on the sled and tells the dogs he can lead them home. Steele is none too pleased with this, and he steps on the harness, jerking it out of Balto's mouth. Steele insists the dogs will be able to find their way home by themselves - after all, he's leading them.

Everyone immediately becomes uncomfortable as the tension rises. Balto shrugs, assures Steele that he can do as he likes, but that the kids need the anti-toxin and they need it now. Balto knows the way back for certain, so he'd be happy to just take the medicine. Steele just about goes batshit at the suggestion, crouching over the crate of medicine like a wild animal, snarling at Balto. He threatens to rip Balto to pieces if he so much as tries to touch the crate. Someone tells Steele to lighten up, and Steele just about shits himself.

He flings himself headlong into Balto, telling him to get out and leave them be. In the scuffle, the medicine crate is tipped over, where it begins sliding down a tiny incline towards a cliff's edge. Balto eyes it nervously and tries to get to it, but Steele continually throws himself at Balto, snapping and snarling and threatening. The other dogs begin telling Steele to stop, that Balto isn't worth it. Star suggests that maybe just this once the howler might be useful, so the team might want to listen to him. Balto looks Steele dead in the eyes and tells him that children are going to die if everyone can't be all kumbaya for a second.

Steele sneers eerily and simple states that he doesn't care. And with that, he outright flings himself into Balto, tearing into him viciously enough to send him whimpering in pain. The fight halts for just a moment as Steele looks down at the wolfdog, who is now battered and bleeding. Steeles give a triumphant huff and bares his fangs before he notices something. The other dogs are advancing on him. They've stopped their gawking long enough to realize that Steele's intentions haven't just soured. They were never good in the first place. The medicine crate continues its gradual trip down the incline.

Steele is spooked by the dogs encircling him, and he demands they get away from him and back into their harnesses. Meanwhile, Balto, despite his injuries, has wormed his way over to the escaping crate of anti-death juice, finally securing it between his paws. Star turns and notices this, praising him. The other dogs gaze over at him too, finally realizing he's probably an okay guy actually. If Steele was angry before, he's furious now. He leaps over the hoard of dogs that had formed a tight circle around him and barrels at Balto and the medicine, screaming for the wolfdog to let it go. Balto quickly shoves the medicine away from the cliff as Steele snags him by the bandanna. The two dogs teeter totter on the side of the cliff before the bandanna rips in half. Steele unceremoniously falls off the cliff's edge, tumbling down into the valley below.

Balto cringes at the sight as Steele refuses to get up from his epic fail landing. Still, there's no time to lose. Balto hobbles over to the sled, surprised to find the other dogs are securing themselves in their harnesses. All except three, that is. One dog, a Chinook by the name of Kaltag, notices an especially icky wound on Balto's leg, and he uses what remains of Jenna's bandanna to wrap it. Another dog, a chow mix named Nikki, is placing the musher in the sled. The man's in rough shape, but he's still alive. Finally Balto takes his place at the head of the team, where Star is holding the harness up for him. Balto slips into it, and it fits like a glove. He takes a moment to breathe and marvel at the situation.

The dog sled takes off again. As it departs, a couple of white paws grapple their way up the cliff's edge. Steele hoists himself out of the valley. He's bruised all over, but he's alive, and he's none too happy. He wastes no time. He tucks the remains of Jenna's bandanna into his collar and begins rushing after the dogs. The guy may be bulky and injured, but he's full of enough rage adrenaline (ragedrenaline?) to overpower an elephant's higher thinking, and he's not slowing down til the sled has stopped.

It doesn't take long for Steele to catch up to Balto. He tells Balto to stop the sled and leave the team alone, but Balto insists Steele doesn't know the way. The other dogs all but tell Steele to fuck off given they've seen what kind of person he is, but Steele doesn't care. He pulls out a handy dandy trick he's been itching to repeat since the beginning of this summary and snaps at Balto's legs, tripping him up. Balto regains his footing quickly enough so as not to slow down the team, but oh no! A moment later, Steele snaps again, this time grabbing Balto's injured ankle.

The wolfdog can't recover so easily from that, and he falls over. The team goes tripping and spilling across the icy forest floor. Steele allows himself to fall behind and watch the destruction unfold. The team is barreling towards another cliff's edge, and Balto's meager frame isn't enough to cancel out the laws of inertia. Balto slides out of his harness as the other dogs try to stall their descent, finally bringing everything to a standstill as the crate of medicine teeters on the cliff's edge.

Balto dives forward and snags the crate, and the team praises him... seconds before the cliff's edge starts to crumble. As the rock breaks to pieces beneath his feet, Balto and the antitoxin fall into the snowy abyss below. "Aaaaaa," is how Kevin Bacon put it.

The next morning, everyone is abuzz is Nome. The people even pull themselves away from their sick kids in the excitement, curious to see what's happening. Something has arrived, though it's not the medicine. The dogs are equally riveted, huddled in the boiler room to discuss their own canine-centric news. Turns out Jenna returned home the previous night, aided by two polar bear cubs and a goose. The dogs prattle on excitedly, asking a weary Jenna all about her journey. But, in all honesty, they seem most concerned with how - and further, why - Jenna would ever be brave or foolish enough to pair with a howler while on a wild goose/dog/plot chase.

Jenna tiredly begins to explain what happened, why the goose and bears were there, etc. when a ruckus can be heard outside. The dogs all look up, but nobody gets up. Not yet. A few moments pass, and then the door, which has been only halfway open up to this point, swings open in full. Standing in the doorway is Togo's team, along with an exhausted looking Steele. Togo remarks that they found the dumb jock wandering delirious through the cold. He was just lucky enough to meander past their relay station. Togo shrugs and leaves the room.

Everyone immediately starts flipping shit again, asking a new flurry of questions so loudly they drown each other out. Finally, Steele breaks the silence by asking "Where's Jenna?" Everyone goes quiet and looks over at the token girl husky. Steele pads over to the middle of the room, looking at Jenna but speaking to everyone, as he explains in a voice so sincere it's sickening that his team died in the cold. Balto did in fact find him, the last dog alive, but all he cared about was taking the anti-toxin away. Balto never meant well, Steele asserts, his chest heaving with every passionate word. All he wanted to do was get back at the town for turning its back on him! Everyone gasps except Jenna and a stoic figure sitting in the corner of the room.

Steele says that Balto took the anti-toxin and, in a desperate effort to get revenge on Nome for never accepting his boorish, violent ways, threw it and himself over the edge of a cliff. The medicine, and presumably every bone in the wolfdog's body, shattered on impact. Why, Steele even tried heroically to stop Balto from this suicide mission by grabbing him by Jenna's bandanna, but... He punctuates his speech by handing Jenna the remains of her neckerchief. She gapes at it.

Steele says that this has been a tragedy for certain, but all the dogs must band together and be strong. Heck, he even generously offers to be a shoulder for Jenna to cry on in her time of need. Such a noble guy, that Steele. Except Jenna has a finely tuned 6th sense she uses solely to detect bullshit, and it's going crazy right now. She tells Steele to his face that she knows he's lying. Balto isn't violent. In fact, the primary reason he left to find the team was to save the children. To save Rosie.

The dogs in the crowd begin to murmur among themselves, but Steele casually states that it's such a shame the wolfdog managed to manipulate Jenna so efficiently that she honestly never saw him going feral, never considered his more selfish motives. Steele reminds the room of dogs that Balto attacked him several times before the relay teams were dispatched. Everyone seems a bit swayed by the reminder.

Everyone's trains of thoughts are prevented from actually leaving the station by the dog in the corner clearing his throat. Surprise surprise, the mysterious guy in the shadows was Wild Joe, resident lurker. Steele almost looks intimidated as the dog pads over to him. Joe basically goes off on Steele, detailing how it's hard to believe a dog who has proven himself violent for the sake of winning, is mysteriously the only dog out of about 15 to survive, and thinks himself a hero despite failing to bring back even one ounce of medicine. Everyone is silent as Joe and Steele glare daggers at each other.

Steele huffs at Joe and leaves the room, stating that he won't be insulted this way after having had such a traumatic experience. The dogs watch Steele go, then look at Joe and Jenna, then awkwardly begin to file out. There's nothing else of importance to be said, and damn has it gotten awkward in here.

When the two are alone, Jenna quietly thanks Joe for believing her. Joe snorts and states that he knows what Steele is like and he knows when he's lying. Then Joe tells Jenna plainly that he doesn't have much hope of the anti-toxin arriving, and that even if it did it's too late for his fallen boy. Taken aback at the realization, Jenna expresses sympathy for Joe, but encourages him to keep his chin up. Balto is a dependable dog who won't let the town down, because despite everything he's faced, he understands how important this is. Joe smiles for probably the first time in 50 years, then asks Jenna where the goose and bears she mentioned went.

That night, the electric cross on the church steeple turns off. Rosie's mother notices this from the hospital window, and her husband hopelessly wraps her in a hug. Rosie's condition continues to worsen.

While this is happening, Jenna abandons her post under the hospital window and leads Wild Joe to Balto's boat. Some of the dogs at the cannery ogle Jenna, but Joe sets them straight with a well directed glare and a scolding about the male gaze. Boris and the bear cubs are understandably shaken when they are met with a sentient hunk of muscle, but Jenna assures them that Joe is a friend. Joe makes himself comfortable in Balto's home and asks the goose if he can wait for Balto to come back with him. The two cubs remain anxious around the old dog, who playfully teases them by asking if they think he's gonna turn them into mukluks.

As all this is going on, miles away at the previously mentioned snowy abyss, the snow in the depths of the gorge begins to shift. In a few labored, measured movements, Balto manages to pull himself from the snowbank. He collapses exhausted back into the snow, realizing how dire the situation has truly become. God only knows where the medicine has fallen, let alone whether or not it's shattered. "Kids... Rosie... I'm sorry," is all he can manage to mouth as he begins to weep.

Soundlessly, a large mass moves across the snowy terrain towards him. The world is a void of white, and the figure is too, but when he looks up, Balto can just make out the dark features of a canine face. A majestic white wolf, large enough to dwarf any dog, is gazing down at him with vibrant amber eyes. The wolf howls, then pauses as if waiting for Balto to respond. He doesn't, instead shrinking away in embarrassment. The wolf gives him a strange look, then gazes past him for a moment, then finally withdraws, quickly disappearing from view.

Balto allows his eyes to wander. Suddenly, those wandering eyes widen. The medicine. It's sitting unharmed no more then 10 feet away. And after offering the cliffside its own glance, he believes it might be possible to get it back up.

Balto rises slowly but surely to his feet. He eyes the tracks the white wolf left behind as it departed. He reaches out a paw to touch one, and quickly realizes that his paw fits inside it perfectly. His shame melts away. He raises his head up high, nose aimed at the moon, and lets loose a howl.

As if by magic, the white wolf reappears in the fog. Balto continues to howl, feeling as if it's the most natural thing he's ever done. The wolf rejoins him, and it fills the air with its own howls. The blizzard rages on around the two, but for just a moment it feels as if the world around them shimmers with a newfound clarity.

Up on top of the cliff, the sled team is huddling close together. Their spirits all seem to have been broken by what they presumed was Balto's death and the lose of the medicine. The dogs straighten up, however, upon hearing... the howling of wolves? Everyone huddles in closer together, suddenly terrified. A second later, though, they realize the howling has stopped, effectively being replaced with the sound of shuffling snow. Wait, huh? Everyone peers over the cliffside.

It's Balto, very much not dead, and very much pulling the unharmed crate of anti-toxin behind him. The dogs yap with joy, cheering Balto on as he mounts the cliff. The moment he's within reach, several dogs lift him and the crate the rest of the way up. Balto collapses in the snow, absolutely pooped. He lies there for just a moment, beaming coyly as the dogs praise him for his feat. Is this what it's like to be respected? When Balto can stand again, the dogs go through the motions once more: musher in sled, lantern on crate, crate secured, Balto up front. And nothing can stop them now.

Well, they figure as much, anyway. But they're proven wrong a short while later. The team enters a deep valley, surrounded on all sides like a great white bowl made of high pale mountains. The air is eerily still. And then, breaking the silence, someone sneezes. The sound reverberates around the cereal bowl that is the mountain range. A moment later, a cascade of snowfall begins barreling down the steepest mountain. An avalanche! The team runs for cover in the nearest cave.

As the team enters the cave, the sled thumps loudly against the ground. The dogs hazard a look up as the tinkling sound of ice on ice becomes apparent. To their horror, they see a barrage of icicles begin to plummet down towards them. One severs the handles at the back of the sled, only inches away from the musher's head. Another slams down just beside the medicine crate, causing everyone to promptly flip shit. The team rockets forward as quickly as they can, just managing to clear the cave as the worst of the icicles shatters behind them. Okay, NOW it's gotta be over, right?

Dawn is just about to break. The cannery dogs are all struggling to rest in the cold weather. One of them, a shabby, long nosed creature, gently lifts an ear in his sleep. Some sort of sound is reverbing in the distance, so far away that it can't reach the true populace of Nome. But it's there, and it rouses him awake. Other dogs begin to take notice as well. On Balto's boat, the twin cubs follow Boris to the railing as they listen. The sound starts as a very low bellow, but soon it becomes clear...

Someone is howling. It's a foghorn! It's a train! No, it's... Balto!

Balto lets out another very primitive howl as he and the team advance towards the cannery. Everyone is overcome with joy. They're so close! The cannery dogs begin running to meet the team, eyes bulging in surprise. They didn't expect this because they really only skimmed the story up to this point. The sled team keeps pace, everyone acknowledging the cannery dogs with excited yips, as they continue towards town. Boris and the cubs climb out of the boat to greet Balto.

But the team is brought to a halt as a dog steps directly in front of the sled, unmoving. Everyone rams into one another, but at least the medicine isn't being flung off a cliff this time. The dog who stopped them is, of course, Steele. His bi-colored eyes shimmer menacingly as the sled's lantern's light reflects off of them. He says he's amazed that the dogs made it home, sarcastically giving Balto in particular a "Bravo". Very cute, very heroic.

But what does Balto expect to happen? Does he think all the townspeople are just going to accept that some guy they've always hated brought the medicine back? Balto has no idea what he's gotten himself into. His only choice, obviously, is to slip out of the harness and allow Steele to lead the team back into Nome. Now.

Wild Joe leaps out of Balto's ship, finally coming to see what all the hubbub was about. He pushes his way through the crowd of stunned cannery dogs and glares daggers at Steele, telling him that he never deserved to be the lead dog and now he's still so greedy for glory that he's holding up the cure for a child killing illness. Steele snarls at Joe, clearly not caring about his opinion. Then the other dogs in the crowd begin jeering "Yeah!" and "You tell him!" and various other cliches meant to show solidarity.

But the real surprise comes when the only dog who actually does slip out of his harness is Star. "Steele doesn't deserve credit for this!" Star spits at his big brother. "In fact, he doesn't even deserve the golden collar he's wearing! All he's ever done is boss everyone around. He's bossed me around since we were pups." Everyone's eyes drift towards Steele's neck. The golden collar and all the medals adorning it shimmer dimly. "You're the hero here, Balto," Star continues. "You deserve that collar. And you're gonna wear it."

He steps towards a stunned Steele, looking as frightened but unflappable as a weeaboo asking out a girl he likes, and lunges at Steele's throat. He yanks the collar off in one swift tug, stepping back and letting it fall to the ground at Balto's feet.

Everyone looks equally amazed at the sight of Star standing up to the guy who's shat on him his whole life. Balto looks at the collar before him, then at Star, then at Steele. "Thank you," he says awkwardly, "but he can keep it. It obviously means more to him then the kids do."

Now Steele is Peak Tilted. The team moves forward again, bypassing Steele and stepping on his collar as they do. Steele stands, chest heaving, for a moment's time before he loudly snaps "no" and drives himself at the team. He shoves cannery dogs out of the way left and right as he plummets towards Balto. Balto notices and comes to a stop beside a coal shoot. The team warns him to LOOK OUT BRUH and Steele flies at him, mouth agape and ready to bite. Just as Steele is about to land on Balto, Balto rolls over, sending Steele tripping over him in the process.

The coal shoot's hatch opens as Steele lands against the lever behind it. Steele tries to claw his way up out of the slowly opening hatch as the other dogs watch horrified. Balto tries to reach out to him, but it's too late. A load of coal drops down from another hatch above the ground. Hundreds of hunks from hell hit the hedonistic Steele as his grip slips. He screams as he falls down the shaft below, a 2 ton torrent of coal following right behind him. Eventually all that can be heard is the sound of stray chunks of coal bouncing around in the shaft. The sound fades as both hatches close. Steele is gone.

Wild Joe walks over, gazes at the closed hatch, and gives a low grunt. He laments on how it couldn't have happened to a nicer dog, then turns to Balto. He says that Balto can't stand around all day when he's got medicine to deliver. But first there's something he needs to do. Star was right, Balto does deserve a collar. And to make sure he has one, Wild Joe slips his own golden collar off his neck, effectively stripping naked in public, and puts it on Balto. Balto is awed. Boris comes up behind him and wraps a wing around him, complimenting him on his new look. Joe tells everyone to hurry into town, and so they do. Balto lets up a torrent of howls once more.

The team FINALLY enters town, and already a whole slew of townsfolk have gathered to see what's going on. They can't contain their relief and their joy upon seeing the medicine has honest to God arrived. Balto brings the team to a stop right in front of the hospital, and immediately the doctor and several other people pry open the crate. A wave of people descend upon the dogs of the team, petting and hugging them. Balto is no exception to this, as people he never expected to respect him begin rubbing his ears and stroking his back.

One of those people is Rosie's father. He hesitates for a second before stroking Balto's head, then leans down and wraps his arms around the dog's neck. Balto withdraws for a moment, but then allows himself to be held. When he's satisfied with the amount of wolfdog hugging he's done, the man coaxes Balto into the hospital, where the staff is already going about administering the anti-toxin to the children.

Balto is brought in to meet Rosie. It's been some time since he's seen her, and she's just been given her injection of the medicine. She's still too weak to lift her head, but she smiles at him all the same. She reaches out her hand to stroke his muzzle, and he licks her. "Balto," she cooes half asleep, "I'd've been lost without you."

She gives a sigh and begins to snore gently, and Balto considers this an appropriate time to head outski. As he turns to leave, he sees Jenna in the doorway, her face scrunched tight in a misty-eyed grin.

The two dogs throw themselves into each other, romping in the doorway. Jenna allows herself to weep, and even Balto's eyes get a little wet. Part of her had truly believed she'd never see her closest friend again. As the two pause and settle back down, she goes to git it and plants a kiss (or the dog equivalent of one I guess) on his nose. He returns the gesture and the two lean into one another. They sit in an embrace as the town continues its celebrating.

A year has passed. Balto, Joe's golden collar still adorning his neck, runs across the cannery harbor to the boat he used to live in. Boris can be seen teaching Luk how to sweep the deck with a poorly held together broom. Muk watches in amusement. Balto calls to Boris that it's time and that he and the kids are invited if they'd like to come along. Boris, overjoyed, leaps onto Muk's back and tells the cubs to pretend they're Paul Revere and hurry up. Everyone who lives in the cannery greets Balto as he rushes by.

Balto passes Dixie on the street as everyone hurries along. Dixie's owner is offput by the presence of the polar bear cubs hi hello what the hell, but Dixie nonchalantly asks Balto what all the fuss is about. Balto explains that it's time, and Dixie congratulates him. He continues his trek, and it goes very much like it did when he was competing in the trial race before the Great Race of Mercy took place.

Finally, Balto reaches the hospital's boiler room. Inside huddle a small crowd: Rosie, her parents, Wild Joe (who is looking a little green), Doc, the actual doc, and, of course, Jenna. Jenna's the center of attention, and she's clearly exhausted. But she's not so exhausted that she can't look up at Balto with a smile on her face. Wild Joe grabs the blanket that she's tucked into and pulls it off of her as Balto and his friends gaze over her.

A litter of 6 puppies whimper out complaints as they reorganize themselves against their mother's warm belly. They're sickeningly precious, squeaking and huddling together. Most of the little ones are varying shades of red like their mother, but the smallest newborn looks remarkably like her father. She lifts her tiny, trembling head and lets out quite possibly the smallest howl any living thing has ever uttered. Everyone chuckles, and Balto leans his head into Jenna's cheek. Their faces are awash with pride.

So there you have it, Balto But Not Balto But Still Balto. Happy 24th year of existing, you trashfire of a movie you. I genuinely love this movie more then I should, and this has been fun to work on. Later this month I'll dump some more Balto stuff here, but it's just about time for me to start a new project for this blog. Hope yous guys enjoyed the wolfdoggy content. Cheers.

#balto #balto words #balto draws #amblimation #rewrite #fanfic

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