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itsthemoofacewriting · 3 years

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It’s heaven in your arms

Well, this is just a clusterfuck of emotions. Let me lead you down the path of grief and mourning only for it to end with a bed sharing trope.

I have no idea if there are even people that like the original trio together romantically, but I was really vibing, so hopefully I can convince some of my regular readers to take the plunge.

If any of my ZoNami readers are here, I’m doing the requests you all sent in – I swear!

I’m not sure what to expect from posting this, so I’ll say this once pre-emptively: if this isn’t your cup of tea, you know where the door is, please leave quietly.

Summary: It may have been two years since Ace’s death but, for Luffy, sometimes it still felt like just yesterday. Or, sometimes, something beautiful can blossom from a place of hurt. Rating: T

You can also find this on AO3 and FFN.

Nami awoke, eyes burning from lack of sleep and mouth dry. It was still dark outside, and she grumbled to herself at waking up so early, but it was no use. She wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep until she had a glass of water. She swung her feet off the bed, clumsily trying to find her slippers before getting up. It was warm outside, so she didn’t bother with anything other than her pyjama top and shorts.

As annoying as it was to be awake so early, it was peaceful. It was a quick shuffle across the deck and into the kitchen, where she filled her glass hastily, already thinking about getting back into bed.

That last thing she expected when leaving the kitchen was the sight of Luffy sitting on the railing, facing the ocean with his feet kicking over the edge. Reckless as always it seemed.

“If you fell, no one would be around to save you,” She lectured.

His shoulders hunched; she’d surprised him it seemed, but he didn’t react as she’d expected. There was no carefree laughter or beaming grin as he told her not to be a worry wart. Instead, she received a muffled, “You’re up.”

Without looking at his face she didn’t know how to take that but his whole attitude was off, and it had alarm bells going off in her head. The comfort of her bed a distant memory now as she walked over to the railing to join him and settled her glass of water beside herself.

The words on the tip of her tongue vanished into the night air when she finally caught sight of his face. His eyes were red and puffy, his face pale despite his constant tan and drawn. It was an expression she’d never seen on his face. He looked defeated.

He looked tired.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

He shook his head, just as she’d expected him too and uttered out a quiet, “No.”

“That’s okay, but I’m going to sit here,” she told him. He could sit in silence if that was what he wanted, but she wouldn’t leave him, that wasn’t an option.

She took his hand in hers because whilst he may not want to speak, he’d always been a tactile person and she couldn’t just sit here and not do anything when there were tears still running down his face.

They sat in silence, only the sound of the waves hitting the ship could be heard with their thighs pressed snuggly against the others and his hand clasped in hers, a thumb absently roaming over the skin of his wrist. His tears had resided for the time being, only the stray one falling every now.

She felt like she was sitting with a deer, trying not to spook it because it felt like any wrong move would have him scampering away.

Well, that was until he pried his hand from hers and she was going to say something until his head feel heavily against her shoulder and an arm wrapped around her body. That was all she needed to let herself relax, no longer worried about scaring him away as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders to pull him closer.

It was another long moment of them sitting like that until he whispered in her shoulder, “It hurts.”

“What hurts?”

He was silent but the tears were back as she felt them soaking into her pyjama top.

“I had a bad dream.”

“Yeah? What about?” She encouraged softly.

“About him.” His voice cracked as he said it and his shoulders shook.

There was only one him she knew of.

“It played in a loop, and I couldn’t do anything.”

Although she was being fed the information in dribs and drabs, it wasn’t hard to piece it together. She waited for him to continue but the long pause told her he wasn’t going to.

She thought about what she’d want in that moment, if their roles were reversed, what she’d want from the other person sat with her, so she settled on, “I only met him briefly, tell me more about him. What was it like growing up with him?”

He was quiet and for a moment she didn’t think he was going to respond, that maybe that wasn’t what he wanted at all.

“He hated me when we were younger,” he said wetly, fighting through tears to talk. “I caused trouble, couldn’t fight and cried a lot. He called me cry baby all the time.”

“He didn’t when we met him in Alabasta though.” She remembered how he’d looked at Luffy, eyes full of adoration and voice warm as he asked the crew to look after Luffy for him.

He huffed out a laugh at her words, such a stark contrast to his normal boisterous laugh.

He told her everything. How Ace had gone from despising him to accepting him as a brother along with his other brother, Sabo, how they’d caused trouble together and had the best times together. How he’d made Luffy’s childhood a happy one.

It made her ache. Because as he talked, selfishly she thought about her own sister. How devasted she’d be to lose her, someone that felt like her other half since before she could remember, knew her better than anyone else, who she could talk to about anything. It was hard to explain a sibling relationship to someone without one, there was a different feeling to, you felt it in your core.

Mostly, she thought about how hollow she’d feel.

It felt like an unspoken rule that siblings were for life. You knew that parents were older and that they’d pass at some point in your life, but not your sibling. It felt like they were meant to be with you for life, that you’d grow old together and have each other’s backs no matter what to the very end.

She supposed that was part of the grief.

Although she didn’t know the ins and outs, even now Luffy was edging around his dream and what’d happened back then, she knew the key details - how Ace had jumped in front of him to save him. How Ace had died before his eyes. Even if she suspected there was more to that moment than what she knew, it was traumatic enough.

Another tangled chain to unwrap from the knotted ball of necklaces that was grief.

Ultimately, she didn’t need to know what the dream was about or what’d happened back then, because the picture she had in her mind was vivid enough and she knew how he felt. Watching someone slip away before your eyes, helpless as you watched them go and wishing you’d done something different.

Her heart bled for him as he spoke, words blurring into his tears, she could feel her own eyes prickling as sadness overflowed.

Hands clumsily wiped at her face and belatedly she realised Luffy had stopped talking. “I didn’t mean to make you cry,” he said.

Without thinking, she wiped his face in return. “It’s okay, I’m glad I get to share this with you.”

She cupped his face and she meant it as a soothing gesture, yet it seemed to have the opposite effect. Watching his face crumple before her eyes was so much worse than how she’d imagined it when his face had been buried in her shoulder. He was so expressive all the time that she shouldn’t really be surprised, his lips quivered and those big eyes scrunched as he tried to hold back his tears.

“I know I still have so much, and I should focus on that…”

“But that doesn’t make that little part feel any better?”

“Yeah.”

“I know. It’s not going to either.” He nodded glumly at her words, staying silent and she suspected it was because he couldn’t form words. “You love him. That’s not going to disappear no matter what happens.”

She continued because she needed to say it, to let him know this was okay before she the moment passed, and he locked this all away to deal with another night. “You’re allowed to mourn him, you’re allowed to feel sad without feeling guilty, but when it overwhelms you, tell one of us, okay?” She paused, thinking over her words, before adding, “And even when it doesn’t overwhelm you and you just want company, come find us.”

“Okay.” He sounded choked up, more so than before.

She brought him back into a firm hug, running her hands up and down his back, letting her words sink in and giving him a chance to speak or cry more if he wanted to.

His next words told her they were done for the time being.

“I don’t want to go back to sleep,” he said.

She didn’t have to ask why. She still woke up sometimes in the middle of the night, tears in her eyes as she relived all different versions of Bell-mère’s death, each worse than the last. She knew that he feared having to relive his worst nightmare over again or catching even a whisp of his brother behind closed eyelids, taunting him over the fact that that would be the only way he’d ever be able to see him again.

“I don’t either,” she lied smoothly, “We could raid the fridge-” Sanji would understand- “or I could show you a new card trick or we could go draw on Zoro’s face. He’s probably up in the crow’s nest and he sleeps like a log.”

Luffy grinned, it didn’t reach his eyes like it normally did but that was okay, it was an improvement on the solemn expression from before. “Usopp just bought new markers!”

They both turned at the sound of heavy footsteps and the very person they’d been planning to mess with was stood only a few steps away.

“Why do you two look guilty?” He looked suspiciously at them both.

Neither of them answered, but she saw the moment Zoro noticed Luffy’s face and took in his red, puffy eyes and worn expression. His demeanour changed instantly, he looked serious, and he didn’t say anything more as he joined them on the railing, pressing up to Luffy’s vacant side and taking his other free hand into his- he could probably feel that it was wet from Luffy’s tears.

The ocean lapped silently against the ship and whatever plans her and Luffy had made seemed to be put on hold as he stayed sat on the railing, but that was fine with her, she was happy to sit there with him in silent support.

“It should’ve been me,” Luffy finally spoke, voice sure but only a whisper.

Those were heavy words, she imagined how often that thought circled around in his head and how hard it must have been to finally say it out loud.

“That’s stupid,” Zoro said.

“Zoro,” she hissed. For his blunt words and because Luffy looked on the verge of tears, it made her heart crumble all over again.

“Ace loved you a lot and he didn’t do it for you to think that; he wouldn’t want that. It was his choice and he made it and he’d do it a hundred times over.”

He made a good point, she knew that, but a tough love speech felt too soon.

“Zoro’s not stupid all the time,” Luffy defended weakly, smile wobbly.

Maybe not.

“Oi.”

Nami shook her head, smiling slightly at their antics. “Unfortunately, I have to agree with you. Shall we agree it’s a 10% smart and 90% stupid?”

Zoro tried to look miffed, although it was betrayed by the smirk tugging at his lips. He knew what she was doing, trying to lighten Luffy’s spirits, so he let it slide.

“Well, we can’t draw on Zoro’s face now-” Zoro glowered at her- “but if you want an extra challenge, we could get Usopp or Sanji.” They were light sleepers; she knew he’d be up for the challenge.

Luffy smiled, nodding tiredly and stifled a yawn that had her and Zoro sharing a quick look between them.

“You can sleep with me if you want,” Zoro offered nonchalantly and Luffy perked up at that.

She should leave them to get on with it. They’d made their arrangements already and in the back of her mind, she knew she should, but Luffy’d told her so much, it felt callous to just palm him off. And maybe, somewhere deep down she didn’t like the thought of being left out. Maybe.

The words were out before she’d properly thought them through.

“You can both sleep in my bed.”

“Like a sleepover!” Luffy said and his eyes brightened, a shimmer of what normally resided there returning.

“It’s a one-time offer and no one tells Sanji!” Nami warned even though Luffy looked considerably lighter and Zoro was smirking at her. She didn’t doubt Zoro would store that away to use against Sanji later, but she’d deal with that then. And if he decided to blab, she’d then have the perfect opportunity to charge him, and he wouldn’t be able to say a thing.

The walk to her room was quiet, only the sounds of their shoes thumping against the deck with every step, getting louder and louder as they got closer to her room. She wondered if she’d regret this. What if she’d made it awkward? She should’ve just let Zoro and Luffy bunk together.

Opening the door felt heavy, like something awful would be waiting for her on the other side. Instead, there was just a dark, muted room to greet her and the awkwardness she felt doubled to the point she wondered if the other two felt it too. She wasn’t sure if she was thankful or not that Robin was still asleep, facing away from them.

All those thoughts were put to rest as Zoro and Luffy moved past her, seemingly more than comfortable with this arrangement than her. Zoro shucked off his boots and settled against the far side of the bed so his back faced the wall and Luffy kicked off his flip flops, his hat already sat safely on her bedside unit.

“Absolutely not,” Nami whispered fiercely, hands on hips and they both peered up at her quizzically. “I’m not sleeping on the edge only to wake up on the floor. Zoro, swap.”

“What, so I can wake up on the floor instead?”

“You can sleep anywhere!”

Luffy had snickered at their bickering, watching them go back and forth until he seemingly grew bored of that and stretched his arm out to wrap around her waist. As his arm snapped back, he dragged her with it, she collided with the both of them in her bed. Like a true rubber man, Luffy looked unbothered although she was fairly sure she’d kicked him, but Zoro wheezed behind her as she’d winded him with her elbow.

“That hurt!” Nami moaned.

“Think before you do that!” Zoro grouchily whispered.

“There we go, now we’re all cosy.” He ignored them both, nestling down into the bed as his arm reached across Nami to rest over onto Zoro.

“Luffy!” She squawked, rosy faced. “Move over! You have all that space!”

This was not what she’d had in mind when she’d invited them… into her bed. Although she didn’t have a massive bed, she’d thought they’d at least try to keep their distance, she hadn’t expected this. Luffy was so close she could feel his breath on her face and his hair brushed against her forehead, no doubt mingling in with her own strands. She could feel Zoro spooned behind her, his own arm outstretched across them both and she was only now just considering how appropriate her pyjama shorts were. Which was ridiculous, it was only those two.

All of this didn’t feel right, they were there for Luffy, he should be the one in the middle not her. He should be the one squashed between them, safe and warm and feeling supported, not her. Yet one look at his face put all of that to rest. You could still tell he’d been crying; the puffiness would take a few hours to go down, but he looked relaxed, the tormented and weight in his expression gone.

He looked content.

And that was enough right now for her brain to shut off, thoughts pushed to the back for another day, and have her burying into the warmth from the two bodies next to her with the knowledge that everything would be okay for now.

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This was meant to be a one-shot, but it’s now a two parter at no one’s request. I’m writing/editing the second chapter right now; it’s on its way.

I used to ship LuNami hard when I was younger, but I think I’ve lost my ability to write them romantically nowadays… unless you throw in Zoro and then it’s back on apparently.

I write and edit all my pieces by myself, so if there’s any errors, please excuse them.

Thanks for reading.

#zoluna #Luffy/Zoro/Nami #LuffyxZoroxNami #LuNami #ZoNami #zolu #opwriting #opfanfic #One Piece #Luffy #Zoro #Nami

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otnesse · 3 years

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Commentary on Peace Walker’s lionization of Che Guevara

Well, guys, as I promised earlier, I’m going to do coverage on a particularly infamous aspect of Metal Gear Solid: Peace Walker, and quite frankly if you ask me, one of its worst elements. Sorry for the delay, didn’t realize that Peace Walker was actually released on April 29 in Japan and not the 30th. I’m basically going to cover the game’s lionization of Che Guevara in the various briefing files, and in particular Big Boss and Kazuhira Miller’s lionizing of that monster. For a bit of background, Peace Walker was the second canon PSP entry into the Metal Gear series, after Portable Ops (yes, Portable Ops is in fact canon, and if you ask me was a superior game to Peace Walker in terms of story and characterizations at least, but I digress…). The game has some controversial elements, namely it being very overtly anti-American even by its usual standards, not to mention pushing left-wing values to a far greater degree. One of these values is in the blatant promotion of Che Guevara in the briefing files (in the main story itself, ie, strictly going by the actual missions you undergo, the Che love was at least limited to the Sandinistas and to Vladimir Zadornov, with it being left ambiguous as to whether Snake and Miller actually were fond of him, and while you could argue that the Sandinistas’ sympathetic portrayal could point toward a promotion, Zadornov’s promotion was definitely meant to be a negative since he was planning on having Big Boss reenact Che’s well deserved execution after successfully changing Peace Walker’s target to Cuba in a disinformation op. The Briefing Files, however, aside from obviously Amanda and Chico, members of the Sandinistas, they also had Big Boss and Miller singing praises for that jerk.).

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My commentary is on how Big Boss and Miller’s promotion of the guy was a complete and total betrayal of their characters, and also a betrayal of the explicit themes of the game, and also how it’s just one sign of Kojima just being a hack writer, not to mention was extremely poorly done even if we were to assume Kojima intended for Big Boss and Miller to be seen as the villains.

Out of character

For the first part, I’ll cover how the gushing for Che Guevara was completely out of character for Big Boss, and especially for Kazuhira Miller, aka, Master Miller from MG2 and MGS, not just going by past entries, but even when taking into account Peace Walker itself and any supplementary materials. I’ll give separate sections for the two of them, since it’s going to be lengthy.

Big Boss

For Big Boss, I’ll acknowledge that he was meant to be the main villain in the MSX2 games, or at least the main antagonist. However, his singing praises for Che Guevara even knowing that tidbit still didn’t make any sense at all, for a variety of reasons. First off, the games, namely Metal Gear Solid 2, strongly implied that Big Boss adhered to a more, for lack of a better term, right wing outlook. For starters, the New York Mirror review for Nastasha Romanenko’s book gave brief coverage on the official reports of what went down on Shadow Moses. In particular, as you can see with the screencaps down below, they specifically called the Sons of Big Boss a “radical right-wing group”, and the group itself for all intents and purposes, was modeled after Big Boss (even Liquid, despite hating his father, nevertheless was influenced by his ideology).

And then we get into the character Solidus, who unlike Liquid, or even Solid Snake, practically idolized his “father” (I put it in quotes since Solidus is a clone of Big Boss, as are Liquid and Solid), to the extent that he was practically ecstatic that Raiden shot out his eye and made him look even MORE like his dad. Aside from that, as you can see below with these screencaps, he was also depicted as a proto-Tea Party type, heck, a proto-MAGA type even, basically wanting America to return to the way the Founding Fathers envisioned it. There’s definitely no way Solidus would have been the type to sing praises for a scumbag like Che Guevara, knowing that, and considering his idolization of Big Boss, it’s also unlikely Big Boss would have sang praises for that creep either.

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There’s also the fact that in MGS3, he wasn’t fond of Communism at all, and had already interacted with a guy similar to Che in many respects (well, other than maybe in terms of sexuality), Colonel Yevgeny Borisovitch Volgin, as both were renowned sadists, and even directly attempted to cause nuclear war. In fact, even before the torture, Big Boss, more accurately Naked Snake at that time, learned a bit about Volgin’s past, in particular his involvement in Katyn, and presumably Bykivnia and Kurapaty as well due to EVA’s references to similar massacres occurring in Western Belarus and the Ukraine, as you can see below:

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His reaction in that conversation with EVA, in particular Volgin’s personal role in executing those guys, had him downright horrified. Bear in mind that Che Guevara actually DID do several of those things himself, shot innocent and unarmed people, and if anything, unlike Volgin who at least allowed Snake to have weapons on hand to fight him, Che outright dithers when confronted with people using guns, even if they’re his own allies based on his interaction with Jorges Sotus, and to a lesser extent Jesus Carreras. It says a lot when even someone like Volgin, a psychopathic mutant, had more honor than Che Guevara. Plus, in Peace Walker, Big Boss when recalling the Cuban Missile Crisis implied that he blamed that event for his ultimately having to kill The Boss (with Miller even noting it was uncharacteristic of him to get into hypotheticals), as you can see in these screencaps below.

The reason that ties in to Che Guevara is because, believe it or not, Che is the reason why the CMC nearly caused the Cold War to become hot. He and Castro even attempted to launch nukes at the United States, and it actually spooked Khrushchev enough that he had to muzzle Che and agree to end the standoff with the United States via the Turkey Deal (or retrieving Sokolov). Knowing that bit, it’s extremely unlikely Big Boss would have been particularly fond of the guy who essentially set the ground for Operation Snake Eater and his having to kill The Boss. And that’s not even getting into how he tried to stop a nuke being launched not just once in the game, but TWICE, and the second time was a perfect opportunity for him to emulate Che Guevara and succeed where Che failed. When Paz hijacked ZEKE, she revealed that she intended to nuke the Eastern Seaboard and pin the blame on MSF under Cipher’s orders, and yet Big Boss fought her in an attempt to stop her. That definitely wouldn’t have been something Che Guevara would have done, and if anything, he bragged to the London Daily Worker that he WOULD have launched the nukes at America preemptively had they been allowed to remain.

Heck, in Portable Ops and even Peace Walker, or at least the backstory for those games, Big Boss specifically served western interests after Operation Snake Eater. In the former, Big Boss was revealed to have participated in the Mozambique War of Independence, and a comment made by Null, aka, Gray Fox, aka, Frank Jaegar, after being bested the second time around, implied that Big Boss had fought alongside the Portugese during that time (Jaegar at that time was siding with FRELIMO), as you can see from the following screencaps:

And in the tape detailing how he and Miller met (not to mention the extended version included in the Peace and Harmony Blues drama tape that was later included in the Japanese version of Ground Zeroes, specifically chapters 1 and 2), it was mentioned that Kazuhira Miller at the time was a mercenary operating with an implied communist rebel group in Colombia, while Big Boss was clearly siding with the Western-backed government.

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I think the events proper for Peace Walker was the first time Big Boss explicitly sided with Communists (not counting Portable Ops, since it’s implied the Russian soldiers renounced their Communism after being abandoned by the Soviet government), and even there, he did it more out of his own personal motives of getting closure regarding The Boss’s true motives after learning she may have somehow survived Snake Eater than out of any liking of Mena/Zadornov’s objectives.

Besides, Big Boss is former CIA, and grunt or not, he'd still need to have at least some degree of knowledge about Che, namely stuff like how Che tried to commit to the Cuban Missile Crisis and make it a hot war, among other things like his instituting gulags in Cuba. And let's not forget, when Gene in Portable Ops tried to pull a similar stunt, Big Boss was genuinely horrified by what he was planning to do.

Kazuhira Miller

Now we get to Kazuhira Miller, aka, Master McDonnell Benedict Miller. Unlike Big Boss, Miller was consistently up to that point depicted as a good guy (probably the closest he got to engaging in villainy was in MGS1 regarding manipulating Snake into arming REX, and even there, he was dead three days before the events of the game, and that had been Liquid who did so). He was also shown to be a huge Che fanboy, and if anything he was depicted as being an even bigger fanboy than Big Boss himself in that game. And Peace Walker also retconned his origins by revealing he was in fact born in Japan with bi-racial ancestry (Japanese and American Caucasian), as he originally was third-generation Japanese American. He was made clear to have more love for America than his own home country of Japan, and only recognized the meaning of peace when talking to his hospitalized mom. He also was mentioned to have been influenced to get into the mercenary business by Yukio Mishima’s suicide, though he does imply that he wasn’t on the same political spectrum as him. Him singing praises for Che Guevara doesn’t work well at all, especially considering that he repeatedly stressed that they not allow another Cuban Missile Crisis to happen, and going by his comments in these screencaps below (in the same briefing file as Big Boss’s uncharacteristically going into hypotheticals, and if anything happened immediately before then), he was fully aware about how Japan itself was almost nuked again thanks to that event (with the only difference being that the Soviets were more likely to nuke them), as you can see with the following screencaps.

Having him sing praises for Che Guevara, whom as I pointed out earlier actually attempted to launch nukes and jumpstart World War III, comes across as ESPECIALLY distasteful knowing that bit, since it comes across as him basically cheering for the guy who tried to wipe out his fellow Japanese, to say little about the Americans, whom back then, he idolized. It would be the same thing as a Holocaust survivor singing praises for Adolf Hitler after narrowly surviving being killed by him. It also doesn’t match up at all with his characterization in MG2 or even MGS1 (and believe me, Liquid posing as Miller or not, his statements to Snake would have been what Miller himself would have said since Snake didn’t seem suspicious at all about him.), the latter regarding the bit about Meryl after she was captured. Even his not being fond of Japan doesn’t cut it, especially when, ignoring that he put that to the side after his mom was hospitalized, the character Sokolov ALSO wasn’t fond of the Soviet Union at all, risked crossing the iron curtain alongside his family to get away from it, and would have been free as a bird had the CMC not happened, and almost got away again until The Boss interfered. Even THERE, however, he still retained at least some degree of love for Russia itself, as when Gene decided to try to nuke Russia (or at least, that’s what Gene led everyone to believe at the time), he secretly went against Gene and adopted the alias of Ghost to aid Big Boss specifically to prevent a nuke from being launched there, being THAT against harming Russia despite hating the Soviet policies. I would have expected Miller to not be fond of Che Guevara at all for that reason.

Overall

The whole thing also didn’t work since if they were meant to be seen as heroes, it ticks off a whole lot of players who are fully aware of some of the crap Che Guevara caused and know his true nature, and regarding painting them as a villain, the problem is that the story DOESN’T depict them as villains for that. Heck, they don’t even STATE any bad things Che did other than maybe dying, and if anything, the way everyone was talking, you’d think he’d walk on water. If Kojima wanted to depict Big Boss and Miller as villains by having him sing praises for Che, the very least he could have done was make sure to specifically reference Che Guevara’s role in nearly causing the Cold War to go Hot by the time of the Cuban Missile Crisis and his being upset at the nukes being removed.

Apparently, if Kojima’s secretary is of any indication, the reason the Che love was in the game was because Kojima himself tried to force in his socio-political views into the game in blatant disregard for the narrative and characterizations therein, as you can see below with links (screencaps will have to be in an addendum post since, unfortunately, I've hit my limit regarding screencap postings):

https://twitter.com/Kaizerkunkun/status/900937994143649792

https://twitter.com/Kaizerkunkun/status/1179860611297153038

https://twitter.com/Kaizerkunkun/status/1190763430497542144

Themes

The Che praise doesn’t work too well with the themes either, since he was not a peaceful man, even called himself the opposite of Christ, and tried to start a nuclear war. It definitely goes against the stated themes of the game, which was peace, not to mention the anti-nuke themes of the overall franchise. Heck, if anything, specifically referencing Che’s attempt at nuking the US and causing Nuclear War, and by extension outright condemning him for it would have worked much better with the themes of anti-nukes, especially considering that they made sure to reference Vasily Arkhipov’s actions during the Cuban Missile Crisis at one point, not to mention referenced both Katyn and the fact that the Turkey silos were already rendered obsolete even before the Turkey Deal made removing them required due to the advent of nuclear subs in Snake Eater earlier. And without the references to that, or any other bad stuff, you’re literally left thinking that he must be a good guy. I’d know because I fell for that myself, especially after getting the game (I didn’t follow the briefing files, but I did follow the cutscenes on YouTube back when it was still in Japan, and I also was baffled as to how people were talking about Big Boss and Miller were Che fanboys since the cutscenes never even pointed in either direction, and if anything, Big Boss nearly being killed by Zadornov would probably point to him NOT liking Che afterwards due to nearly being forced into Che’s fate).

The only thing it did was just have Kojima force in his political and social views, and I’ll be blunt, that kind of crap is something I have distaste in, I hate having propaganda pushed onto me. Ironically, Kojima or at least the Benson books for MGS1 and MGS2, instilled that view onto me. So my anger at Kojima doing that, after learning what Che was truly like in one of the Politically Incorrect Books (either Vietnam War or the 1960s one), is very much personal as well as political and social.

Aftermath

Well, as I said, I did buy into the narrative around the time Peace Walker was released, but then I learned I was being tricked by Kojima after reading the PIG books. I’d argue that event definitely was a watershed event for me. Not only did it have me lose any respect I might have had for Kojima, it also influenced my outlook on life, left me becoming distrustful the second I started picking up how they’re trying to push an agenda instead of, say, actually teaching the material in college. It also may have influenced my later views on Star Wars and Disney’s Beauty and the Beast (specifically, George Luca’s open admission to basing the Ewoks/Rebels on the Vietcong, and especially modeling the Galactic Empire after American soldiers; and Linda Woolverton admitting that she was trying to push a radical feminist agenda in Beauty and the Beast, the same one she tried to push in that awful Maleficent movie. Though I also was becoming disturbed with Belle for reasons other than that bit due to researching the French Revolution, though I will acknowledge Big Boss and Kazuhira Miller’s fanboying of Che Guevara, and in particular their reference to Sartre and his infamously singing praises for Che as “the most complete human being of the century”, certainly worsened my views on Belle, thinking that she may turn out like Sartre and throw her lot with the Jacobins and other groups.). It also left me distrusting of whatever Metal Gear had to say, may have also led to my not liking Chris Redfield after Resident Evil 5, or heck, some of the more anti-American commentary in 5 and other games, and also Dead Rising. It also influenced my decision to become a Dead or Alive fan (especially when before, I wasn’t particularly fond of the game due to the fanservice stuff), and in particular a Tina and Bass fan. May have also influenced my later distaste of Greg Berlanti’s writing of Arrowverse shows, in particular Supergirl starting with Season 2 (though that also had Heroes Redemption as a factor, which predated Peace Walker, thanks to how it changed Claire Bennet).

#peace walker #Anti-Che Guevara #Anti-Peace Walker #Anti-Hideo Kojima #Metal Gear Solid Peace Walker #Youtube

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britishboystm · 4 years

Text

The First Meeting | The Day We Met: A Fred Weasley Mini Series

Inspired by:

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Fem!Reader

Warnings: just pure fluff, separation anxiety, sad goodbyes

WC: 1.3k

Chapter Summary: Y/N L/N gives a send off to family before making her way to her first year at Hogwarts. Who will she meet along the way?

Series Masterlist

***

September 1st 1989,

Shoes buckled and shined and a stack of first year books was all eleven year old Y/N L/N needed. To most, being exposed to magic for the very first time would be a frightening thing, but to her, it was nothing short of being absolutely marvelous. It hadn’t even been a couple of weeks since she was informed of who she really was. Both her parents were what she overheard someone call a “muggle”. However her aunt on her mother’s side also happened to be a witch and had made the promise to her hesitant parents that she would be little Y/N’s guide through her seven adventurous years at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

“Hurry Y/N don’t doddle!” her aunt puffed out. Y/N was currently being pulled through Kings Cross Station by the hand, dodging civilians left and right.

Warm brick walls, high ceilings and the loud hustle and bustle of London life ignited a fuzzy feeling of excitement within little Y/N. Numerous trains saluted off for their next journey with the sound of their commanding whistles.

“Here darling, run on through.” Y/N furrowed her little bushy brows and quickly looked up at the older woman in confusion as they abruptly stopped in front of a brick wall type pillar that sat firmly between platforms nine and ten.

“Run where?”

“Well the wall of course!” Y/N’s E/C eyes grew ten times bigger. She was then snatched out of her bewilderment by frantic shouts coming from behind her.

“Come along Fred, George, Percy put the book down!” A woman with bushy red hair and an attire completely made from knitted wool came cobbling down the platforms with three younger male versions of herself following close behind. Two of which being identical.

“Are you heading through dear?” The woman asked kindly as she finally stopped and took a moment to catch her breath. They were obviously in a hurry, much like Y/N and her aunt.

“It’s her first year. Would you mind going first so she can see there is nothing to worry about?” The woman looked over at Y/N’s aunt with understanding then back down to Y/N again.

“Not to worry dear, this is Fred and George’s first year as well.” She gazed up to see the identical twins smile with pride.

“All you have to do is run straight towards that wall. Percy why don’t you run along first so she can see?” The boy who Y/N could only assume to be Percy, rolled his eyes, clearly holding himself at a high regard, frustrated he had to show this little nïave first year how to get through to 9 ¾.

He then quickly picked up speed, and right before her very eyes, he was gone, vanished into the wall as though it were a cloud. Her mouth dropped open in astonishment. Everyone else looked as though it were a regular Monday.

“Go on.” The woman spoke gently, using her hands to gesture forward. With a deep inhale in hopes of calming her nerves, Y/N held her breath and closed her eyes before charging towards her new and exciting life.

Once she felt it safe to pry her lids apart, she became aware of the fact that she had been transported to a whole new world of wonder. Witches and Wizards were scurrying around, not wanting their children to be late and tearful goodbyes were exchanged in every corner of the station. Then coming from right behind, her aunt bumped into her back and made a small “oof” sound.

“Alright, here we are. On the train with you.” She placed a hand on her niece's upper back and led her to an opening in the Hogwarts Express.

“Wait!” Y/N yelled before turning around and looking up at her aunt with big glassy eyes.

Maybe she was afraid after all.

“I’m scared.” She whimpered. Y/N hated showing weakness but she was just so overwhelmed by all the colour and vibrancy around her. Even her trip to Diagon Alley the week earlier hadn’t had her so spooked. This time she was leaving, and for a long time at that.

Her aunt let out a sigh and crouched down, getting to the little girl's level, stroking one of her braided pigtails in one hand and holding her tiny hand in the other.

“You have nothing to fear Y/N. You are very brave and resilient and I am so proud of how far you’ve come in this short amount of time. Hogwarts will be your new home. You will make so many memories and long lasting friendships. I promise you.”

“Pinky?” Y/N asked. Her aunt smiled brightly, letting out a small chuckle before linking her pinky with her niece’s and kissing the tip of her own thumb, a little tradition that the two witches had formed over the years.

“Pinky.” She said before giving Y/N one last hug before helping her on to the train.

Then the whistle sounded, making Y/N’s heart almost jump out of her throat. She quickly turned around to look out the train door window that was now slammed shut. She saw her aunt still standing on the platform and placed her hand against the glass. Her aunt placed her hand over hers from the other side and the train lurched forward, almost as though the spark of family brought it to life, something almost as powerful as magic. Her aunt kept her hand glued in place and began to walk with the now moving train. As the train sped up, she finally let go and sent one final wave to her little witch in training.

With the station no longer in view, Y/N turned around and let out a substantial breath before walking down the hall of the train. Most compartments were full, so she trudged along, hoping to find an empty one where she could sit alone and fully take in everything that had occurred since her red sealed letter was dropped on to her lap by a screeching barn owl.

Unlucky for her, there seemed to be no empty compartments.

About to give up and hide in the bathroom for the rest of the trip, Y/N suddenly came across the two redhead twins she met earlier at Kings Cross Station. They laughed and rough housed, using the entire small space to their full advantage.

Needing to rest her tired legs, Y/N knocked on the frame of the sliding door.

The two boys looked up in unison, putting on display their creepy twinstincts.

“Hi, I don’t really know anyone and I was wondering if I could sit in here?”

“You’re the girl from the platform aren’t you?” One of them said with narrowed eyes, trying to place her.

“That’s right! It wasn’t so bad, was it?” Said the other. Y/N smiled, already feeling some of her worries dissipate away along with the train steam.

One of the twins moved to the other cushioned bench to sit beside his brother. This was so both boys could face the girl properly while chatting.

“I’m George and this is Fred.” One of them stated while the other smirked, a small wave along with it.

Y/N took a moment to examine the two. There was a certain devilish gleam that danced within their eyes. They were trouble. But a good kind of trouble.

“Are you sure you aren’t Fred and you aren’t George?” The twins smiled widely and let out a stream of laughs.

“Wicked.” They said together. It was the first time someone had outsmarted them when it came to their classic twin switch scheme.

And with that, the conversation just spiralled into a plethora of topics. The twins made her laugh, which was something that was very hard to do. These two were definitely keepers, she thought.

“Stick with us Y/N, we will keep you safe.” Fred said out of the blue. George nodded in agreement.

Things were beginning to look up for little Y/N L/N.

#fred weasley imagine #fred weasley fanfiction #fred weasley #fred and george #fw #fred weasly x reader

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darter-blue · 4 years

Text

Stucky for Kinktober:

Bucky/Bucky/Steve

for @thewaythatwerust

18+ readers only - this contains explicit content

Bucky’s been to so many different fucking timelines now he’s lost count.

He hasn’t really lost count. But it hurts his mind, hurts his heart, to think about that number and know that he still hasn’t found Steve. His Steve. Not the imposter. The Steve who only left Bucky to be back in the span of a breath. The Steve who would have never broken his promises.

But this timeline. This timeline is wrong for all sorts of reasons, the first and worst of which is that it’s not the right century - or at least he hopes it's not. Or else something went really fucking wrong here.

No, Bucky’s wound up back in the middle of World War fucking Two.

He’s just popped right into the Officer's quarters of one Steven Grant Rogers circa France, 1945. The shield is here, the uniform is here. Steve is not here, but Bucky is. Or Bucky’s old self? Or his alternate self? Fuck he hates this.

‘Fuck, you’re just a baby,’ he says to himself. His younger self. His alternate self.

‘What?’ his alternate self says back. Wild eyed, gun trained on Bucky’s face. Smart. Bucky’s got enough armor on his chest, that a heart shot wouldn’t be fatal.

‘Please don’t shoot me, kid.’ Bucky uses his best calm voice. His goat herding voice, no Winter Soldier here. No aggression. As soft as he can make it. To be accurate, it’s his Steve wrangling voice. Sometimes the only way to get him breathing right was to talk to him so calm, so steady, he could follow Bucky’s voice and try to match his breaths.

It doesn’t seem to be working on himself though.

Other Bucky seems spooked by the tone more than anything. ‘What the fuck.’ He’s breathing heavy, but his hand is steady as a rock. ‘Who…? How...?’

‘Good questions,’ Bucky says, ‘These are good questions, kid. But I know you just saw me materialise out of thin air.’ Bucky holds his hands up to his other self, keeps his shoulders down, keeps his body as loose as possible. ‘And I don’t think any of the answers I have for you are gonna make you feel better.’

‘Are you… are you meant to be…’ Other Bucky steels himself and asks the question that Bucky can tell is driving him nuts, ‘Why do you look like me?’

‘I am you, I’m… a version of you.’ Bucky keeps his hands up but takes a step forwards. He feels like they’re getting somewhere.

Other Bucky raises an eyebrow, ‘Like from the future?’

Well, how does he explain alternate timeline’s to the 1940’s version of himself. ‘Sort of?’

Other Bucky is looking him up and down. His eyes catch on the arm where Bucky’s quantum suit has been modified to keep the vibranium free from obstruction. ‘What happened to you?’

God. Bucky doesn’t want to answer that. ‘A lot,’ he says, in favour of a real answer, ‘Too much.’

‘You’re Hydra.’ Other Bucky says it with such conviction, it has Bucky wincing. He can’t tell him why. If this Bucky gets wind of any Hydra influence on him at all, he’ll shoot. He knows himself.

Bucky shakes his head. And he forces himself to believe what he’s saying. Because it is true. ‘I got captured. They made some’ - he looks down at his arm - ‘modifications.’

Other Bucky watches him, his eyes getting impossibly wider. But the gun never wavers.

‘Listen, listen to me,’ Bucky says, keeping still, wondering how long he has until Steve gets here. He doesn’t remember any of this - where they are, what they’re doing or why Bucky’s in Steve’s room, so he has no idea what kind of time frame he's on. But he knows as soon as Steve walks in this room, other Bucky will shoot this version of himself. He would never risk Hydra getting Steve. ‘I’m trying to help… I need to help my Steve.’

Other Bucky narrows his eyes., tilts his chin back. It’s an invitation to explain. Bucky takes it.

‘I’m from a version of the future - not yours I don’t think - and the Steve from my future is missing,’ Bucky swallows the heavy lump in his throat, ‘He’s… lost. In a different reality than the one we’re from.’ He’s keeping his voice calm, his body loose, but his other self isn’t fooled. He can hear it, whatever it is in Bucky’s voice that fails when he talks about this. When he thinks about where Steve might be. And why he can’t find him.

Whatever it is is enough for other him to finally lower the gun. ‘Prove it.’

‘I don’t know how much is the same here,’ he says, keeping his hands up, ‘But I know this will always be true - you love him.’

‘What?’ other Bucky snaps his head back like he’s been slapped.

‘You’re in love with him, Steve. You have been. Forever.’

‘I don’t… I don’t know what you mean.’

‘It’s okay. He doesn’t know. Not yet.’

‘Not yet?’

‘You’ll tell him.’

Other Bucky’s breathing has picked up again. Even more than before. As if this information is somehow freakier than a future version of himself just dropping out of nowhere into the middle of the room. ‘No.’

‘Yes. In the future… you can get married you know. To a guy.’

‘We get married?’ The words rush out of his mouth. His breath hitches as they leave him, mouth hanging open.

‘No, I mean, not yet,’ Bucky’s own breath is coming faster, ‘It all went wrong… it all… it fell…’ Bucky is trying. He’s trying, but he can’t say it. He can’t finish.

‘Oh god,’ His other self says, putting his gun in his holster, ‘Are you - what happened to you?’

‘I’m trying to find him, but he’s not here, he’s not anywhere.’ Fucking, why is Bucky telling him this? Why is he breaking down in front of this innocent, baby faced version of himself. And all the promise that lies there, the promise that Bucky knows will never be realised.

‘How did you get like this?’ Other Bucky asks, coming closer. His hands are free to grab the gun if he needs it - not that he would ever be faster than the Winter Soldier like this. He’s enhanced, but he’s not trained yet. They haven’t tortured the humanity out of him. Azzano was just the beginning.

‘I can’t tell you,’ he says to his other self. He’s not supposed to say anything. But this is not his timeline anyway. How much worse could things get than they already are? Maybe he could save things for this Bucky. For this Steve, wherever he is. ‘But don’t let your guard down on that train when you go after Zola.’

Other Bucky is close enough to touch him now. He reaches out for the arm like it's calling to him. Looking between Bucky and the arm with those wild, wide eyes.

‘You need to tell Steve.’ Is all that Bucky can say.

‘That I love him?’

‘Yes, and that’ - he reaches out to touch his other self back, gently, just fingers against other Bucky’s chin to focus his attention on Bucky’s face - ‘That you’re different now. That what he did, Zola, it changed you.’

Other Bucky doesn’t pull away but he shakes his head emphatically. Spooked. Sure now, obvious in his proximity, in his familiarity, that Bucky is him. Some version of him.

‘You have to,’ Bucky whispers, his other self is so close, and Bucky strokes his fingers up to his cheek, slides his thumb over the unmarked skin, so fresh, so new, round and pink in a way that his own cheeks, the soldier’s cheeks haven’t been since the train, ‘He needs to know that you could survive a fall. You could survive just about anything.’

‘I can’t tell him,’

‘Kid, you can’t let him think you’re dead. Ever. He’ll kill himself if he thinks you’re dead.’

Other Bucky can see that it’s true. He lets his head fall into Bucky’s hands. Lets him take the weight of it. ‘Okay,’ he says, voice muffled, ‘I’ll tell him. I’ll tell him everything.’

‘Hey it won’t be bad,’ Bucky lifts his other self’s face to tell him Steve would never leave them, pulls him up by the hair, too rough probably, and gets a short gasp in response. He really must have liked it just as much then as he does now, and it’s fascinating. He holds onto other Bucky’s hair and keeps his face still. Just takes time to look at himself like this. ’Shit,’ he says softly, ‘I forgot how pretty I was.’

‘You’re still pretty,’ his other self says, just as softly, reaching up his own hand to touch his fingertips to Bucky’s sharper cheekbones, ‘You look sad, but you’re still pretty.’

Bucky’s breath catches at the way his other self is looking at him. He doesn’t remember being this innocent. This trusting.

‘Does he like it like this?’ other Bucky asks, stroking that hand across Bucky’s cheek and into his hair, running fingers through the loose strands around Bucky’s face, ’Your hair?’.

Bucky nods. ‘He loves it.’

‘You like it too huh?’ And other Bucky yanks at the hair in his hands, pulls at it the same way Bucky had pulled at his. ‘Does he do this?’

Bucky nods again, the corners of his mouth are turning up as he pulls back in return, rougher this time, exposing the long line of his other self’s throat. ‘He does a lot of things.’

And god, but other Bucky’s eyes light up at that. His lips curl up in a smile as he steps up into Bucky’s space, ‘What else does he do?’

‘He does this sometimes,’ Bucky says and moves his vibranium hand down to other Bucky’s nipple, to pinch at it through the green undershirt of his uniform, ‘And he likes to bite.’ The snap of Bucky’s teeth at his other self’s jaw has him arching his back, enough that he’s forcing his nipple back up into Bucky’s fingers, and he twists again, getting even more of a response. ‘Yeah, we like it when he does that.’

‘Oh god,’ other Bucky whispers, ‘What else?’ he asks, licking his lips, ‘What else does he do?’

‘He loves to pick us up,’ Bucky drops his hands to grab his other self by the thighs and lift him up, wrapping other Bucky’s legs around his waist, ‘Prove he’s bigger than us now.’

‘You seem pretty big.’

‘Oh, I let him think he’s the biggest, you know he always hated being small.’

‘I liked him small,’ other Bucky says with a pout and Bucky laughs.

‘Yeah, me too. He knows, don’t worry.’

‘What do I know?’

Both Bucky’s snap their heads up to the voice at the door. To Steve. And he looks pissed.

‘What the fuck is going on,’ Steve says, eye’s fixed to where the Bucky’s stand, and it must be one hell of a scene, their bodies practically fused together, other Bucky held up, straddling Bucky’s waist.

‘Steve it’s not,’ other Bucky says, pulling back from Bucky, jumping down from his arms and taking a step towards Steve, who takes a step back. Bucky feels the tick in his own jaw as he watches the colour drain from other Bucky’s face. ‘This is me, he’s me.’

Steve turns to Bucky then, to the Winter Soldier, in his white uniform, with his metal arm, his long hair, and his sharpened cheekbones, and Steve takes a step towards other Bucky, arm out as if to protect him.

‘I’m a different version of your Bucky,’ Bucky says, back to his calm voice, his Steve wrangling voice, and he can see the second Steve recognises it, in the way his eyes widen, his eyebrows raise impossibly high. And the other Bucky is stepping back closer, making his way between Steve and the Winter Soldier.

‘He’s me, Stevie, from the future.’

Steve blinks, ‘The future?’

‘We survive the war, Steve’ other Bucky says, voice just as soft, just as calm, ‘We end up in the future, together.’

‘Together?’ Steve parrots.

‘It’s a possible future,’ Bucky, the Soldier, chimes in, probably stupidly, but he feels compelled to be truthful, ‘I don’t know what will happen for you two.’

‘How do you mean, together?’ Steve asks, glossing over Bucky’s addendum.

‘Men can get married, Stevie,’ other Bucky says, reaching out for Steve, laying a gentle hand on the sleeve of Steve’s crisp, officer’s uniform, ‘In the future they can marry each other.’

Steve is looking between them, his eyes flitting back and forth over the details of their appearance. Other Bucky, this Steve’s Bucky’s very obvious erection tenting his pants. ‘What were the two of you doing?’

Other Bucky opens his mouth to answer but no words come out.

‘I was showing him something.’ At the look Steve gives him, Bucky hurries to add, ‘What you like to do to me, I was showing him what you like to do to me, in the future. In my future.’

‘We do that?’ Steve asks, voice breaking, ‘Me and Bucky?’

Bucky and other Bucky both nod.

‘Show me,’ Steve says, deep and commanding in his best Captain America voice. Like Bucky can’t see him shaking where he stands.

Bucky moves toward his other self and Steve shakes his head.

‘On me.’

‘Okay,’ Bucky says, ‘Okay Steve, I can show you, let me show you both.’ And he pulls his other self forward so that they both stand in front of Steve. ‘I know exactly what you like, and I know exactly what I like, okay, why don’t I show you both.’

Steve nods his head. His mouth is open, his breathing is getting heavier, and his pupils are dilated. Other Bucky is looking at them both and biting at his lower lip, but the tent in his pants is bigger than ever. And Bucky wants them to have this. All this time. So much more time than he and Steve ever got to have.

‘Get on your knees, Buck,’ he says to his other self. And Steve’s eyes just about fall out of his head as the other Bucky does as asked, drops right to his knees in front of Steve. Oh he always wanted to. He would have done it in a heartbeat. ‘Jacket off, Steve.’

Steve doesn’t waste time, he rips his jacket off and throws it onto the bed in the corner of the room.

‘Buck, open his pants for him,’ Bucky says, keeping his voice steady. Using his calm voice again, ‘And lets take this off you too, huh?’ he reaches down to Bucky and lifts the hem of his henley, ‘You don’t need this anymore.’ other Bucky just lifts his arms as the shirt slides over his head, gets his hands back to Steve’s fly as soon as they’re free. Steve’s mouth hangs open and his chest is expanding, those gorgeous pecs straining at the white tank under his shirt. The shirt that he has balled up and thrown behind him.

Other Bucky finally gets all the buttons of Steve’s fly open, is pulling at the material of Steve’s pants, but Bucky stops him with a gentle hand.

‘I’ll get these,’ he says, and reaches his own hand over the fly of Steve’s underwear, cups at the growing hard on, closing eyes at the familiar weight of it, then he steps around behind Steve to slide the pants down and off his legs.

‘You too,’ Steve says as Bucky steps back around behind his other self, and Bucky nods, because he can never say no to Steve. He does check to make sure they’ve locked the door and then removes his uniform slowly, puts his weapons on the bed in a row while the others watch, Bucky from the floor and Steve above him.

He comes back to them in just his underwear and stands behind his other self, ‘Keep your hands on the back of his thighs, Bucky,’ he says to his other self, knowing how good those thighs feel, ‘tap them if you need a break, okay?’ and other Bucky nods as Steve shivers at the touch of his Bucky’s hands on his bare skin.

Bucky gets his hands in other Bucky’s hair and pulls his head back. ‘You want him like this, Stevie?’

‘Oh sweet Jesus,’ Steve says, breathing out the words like a prayer.

‘He’ll be so good for you, Steve,’ Bucky says, low and gentle, ‘He’ll do whatever you ask him for, he wants to, don’t you, Bucky?’

‘I do,’ his other self says, looking up at Steve like he’s the sun, ‘Whatever you want, Steve.’

‘Oh, Buck,’ Steve says, reaching a hand down to cup Bucky’s chin, ‘I just want you.’

‘He’s ready,’ Bucky says, ‘Look at that sweet mouth, Steve, so ready for you,’ and his other self is a quick study, he really is ready, opening his mouth wide as Bucky keeps his hands in hair, keeps his head pulled back, ‘Don’t you want to fill him up?’

Steve looks up at Bucky with uncertainty, and Bucky nods his attention back down to other Bucky.

‘Feed him that pretty cock of yours, Steve.’

‘I want it,’ other Bucky says, knowing Steve won’t do it unless he’s sure, ‘Please give it to me Steve.’

And Steve closes his eyes. Those gorgeous long lashes fanning out over his cheeks. He reaches into his underwear to pull out his now rock hard dick, rests the tip of it on his Bucky’s chin.

And this Steve’s Bucky nods again, opens his mouth wider so that Steve can feed it to him, slide that huge cock into other Bucky’s mouth until his eyes are watering, his throat bulging. Steve throws his head back as he traces a finger over Bucky’s throat where he can feel himself under the skin.

‘Tell him how good he is, Steve,’

‘He’s so good, so fucking perfect, Buck.’

Bucky eases the pressure of his hands where they pull at other Bucky’s hair, running them through gently, petting him.

‘Tell him how pretty he is.’

‘You’re beautiful, Buck,’ Steve says, running one of his own hands into his Bucky’s hair to grip it tight, ‘Always, always, most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.’

And both Bucky’s have tears in their eyes now, as Steve keeps talking, pretty words, praise and more praise as he pulls his dick out and slides it back down Bucky’s throat.

‘He can take it Steve, don’t be gentle,’ Bucky says, biting back the moan as Steve grips his Bucky’s hair tighter, pushes his dick in further, ‘Don’t you want to fuck that pretty mouth of his?’

‘Fuck,’ Steve gasps, ‘Fuck, yes.’ sliding himself out and in, faster, harder now as Bucky encourages him.

‘Does he feel good, Steve? Does his pretty mouth feel good?’

‘Oh god, feel so good, Buck, so fucking gorgeous, so good, you feel so good.’ Steve is just letting the words flow out of him, gripping Bucky’s hair, holding his head back while he fucks down into his mouth and Bucky knows how good it feels, how the serum means he doesn’t have to breathe as much as he used to, means he can keep choking on Steve’s cock, feeling him all the way down into his throat, being so full, all his senses full of Steve, the way he smells, the way he tastes, the weight of him on Bucky’s tongue.

Bucky knows it so well he’s rocking his hips into the other Bucky’s shoulders in time with Steve’s thrusts, getting harder and harder, feeling that warmth spread through him.

Steve’s litany of, ‘so good’ and ‘so beautiful’ and ‘so perfect, Bucky,’ have him floating, he’s forgotten to keep control but it doesn't matter anymore as Steve’s thrusts get more and more erratic, as he finally pulls out and hot, white ropes of come hit other Bucky across the cheek, down his throat, over is chest, Bucky can’t hold back his own orgasm, it rips through him as he holds other Bucky's hair like a lifeline, and other Bucky reaches his own hands up to Steve’s elbows to pull him down, he climbs over Steve’s knees and onto his lap to latch onto his mouth, to fit his lips to Steve’s the way they had always meant to be fit, and kisses him through his own orgasm, shaking and spasming and arching his back as he rocks in Steve’s lap, Steve chasing his mouth, desperate for more.

Bucky is torn between wanting to stay, knowing what more will come next, and needing to get away. He watches this world's Steve and Bucky as they crash into each other and he cries for the time that he and his Steve missed out on, cries for what he might never find.

But he needs to keep looking.

He steps into his uniform, straps his weapons, checks them, and activates the pym particles to shrink himself before he has to make any awkward goodbyes.

He’ll investigate this world more before he abandons it for the next one, get somewhere he can clean himself up and catch his breath. He doesn’t think his Steve is here, but he doesn't know for sure

Still. He has to try.

He’ll just keep trying. Until he finds him.

He’ll find him.

They’ll always find each other.

Always.

#stucky #ficlet #bucky/bucky/steve #kinktober 2020 #3.5k words #my writing #my fics #prompt fill #timetravel #alternate ending

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perish-the-creator · 4 years

Text

Domestic Life

Pairing: King Ghidorah/Godzilla

Summary: A window into the average night for a powerful married couple.

Goji laid on the couch and scanned through the book he was recommended with relative interest. He honestly thought he would hate it, though he was pleasantly surprised that it wasn’t half bad. He had a bit of an issue with books written by humans, especially when it came to representing his people. They were always so needlessly violent and cruel. Not all of them were like that.

Well…

The sound of the front door opening and closing with a faint clicking sound brought Goji out of the fantastical world of the novel he was in. Marking his spot, Goji closed the book and placed it down on the glass coffee table. He rolled off the couch, slightly bumping his knee on the ground with a sharp breath coming from him.

Ghidorah was standing at the door, taking off his work shoes and putting on the slippers Goji had trained him to do. His tie was already loosened up and his work shirt unbuttoned. Just the aurora they were giving off told Goji everything he needed to know.

The food was already prepared so he wouldn’t have to hear Ghidorah’s whining when they entered and noticed he was still cooking. San was the first to look up and notice him approaching.

“Hey babe,” San said with a grin when Goji came to kiss each head on the cheek.

“You been home all day?” Ichi asked as they made their way to the kitchen. Opening the pots on the stove and noticing the rice cooker was steaming they concluded they were having curry tonight. “Because based on your attire you have.”

“Pfft,” Goji crossed his arms. He had a habit of stripping down to nothing but his boxers when at home. After all, it was only them and the guest had to alert either monster ahead of time. “Sorry I have confidence in my body to not be covered up 24/7.” The bulkier monster pushes past his husband as he opens one of the pots.

“This one is spicy and this one is mild,” Goji points out. “I followed my Dad’s recipe.”

“Ah, then this must be good,” Ni says happily. “Your dad’s food is one of the reasons I like our trips to Japan.”

“Yeah,” Goji opens the pot and stirs the contents around a bit while Ghidorah walks out the kitchen and towards their bedroom. He throws down his tie on the bed and considers whether or not to go ahead and hop in the shower before dinner. He knows he doesn’t want to ruin a shirt just because he’s about to eat. Yet he doesn’t like eating with his work shirt either. Three heads talk among themselves before Goji calls for them to come.

“Hah, so what did you walk in the room for? You had to get away from me just to remove a tie?” Goji joked as he placed down their plates in front of them. Mild curry for Ichi, spicy for the rest of them. The three heads had developed a system to make eating efficient. For about a minute, Goji just smiles and watches them. He enjoyed watching their faces when they ate his cooking. He wasn’t a master like his father, but he was getting there.

“So,�� Ichi begins just as Goji starts eating. “What did you do today?”

“Went to the store to get more meat. Stopped by the bookstore cause Rodan recommended this book I should read. It’s cheesy but I like it. Um, oh I went to the gym for my usual hour. Kong was there and as usual, tried to flirt.”

“Did you flirt back?” Ni asked innocently as he swallowed another forkful of curry and rice.

“Of course,” Goji chuckles. “It’s playful. I don’t think he’s really into guys. It’s like that stupid shit we used to do.”

“And that stupid shit got you to marry us,” San stuck his tongue out at him as Goji rolled his eyes. “You gotta admit, our game was pretty strong.”

“Yes, so strong that you three cried when I rejected you the first time,” Goji snorts. But suddenly he chokes on his food and pounds his chest to clear his airways again. The three heads laugh at him.

“See, karma is a fast mistress,” Ichi said. “Anyway, the company’s having a big picnic this Saturday. I was wondering if you wanted to come.”

“Ooh, I don’t know,” Goji winced. “Anguirus and Rodan are taking me to this new sports bar.”

“Rodan sure has a lot going on. Is his marriage alright?” Ni asked. Goji shrugged.

“He doesn’t talk about it. He just says that they’re currently having some communication issues. He wants kids but she wants to wait till some deal is settled at her company,” Goji shakes his head. “Though, the issue on having kids I agree with. You and her work a lot, of course, we’re going to go find distractions.”

“Are you hinting-”

“Yes,” Goji folds his arms and leans back in the chair. “I want a baby Ghidorah. I’m going to be turning 40 soon. That’s like ten years more than when Dad and Mama had me.”

“We see,” They say in unison. Each head escaped to their thoughts and began mapping out the future. Ni didn’t mind the idea of children. He wouldn’t mind having little versions of himself running around. San laughed to himself. The chaos that would come from such creations. Mixtures are born with lightning in their blood. Not to mention the possibilities of what they’d look like. How funny would that be? But for Ichi, he was unsure. He didn’t hate children, no, but would they be cut out for a kid? They have more than enough money. Goji is good with kids but can he be good?

Goji reaches over the table and places his hand on theirs as a warm smile comes across his face. “Hey, sorry if that spooked you. We can talk about that another time.”

“Yeah…” all three heads spoke. Goji then remembered something.

“OH! Your papers for the Western Institution Report! I found them in the dresser. Let me go get them,” As Goji stands up and goes to retrieve the articles, Ghidorah smiles and sighs. They had been given a relatively good life. And they wouldn’t change it for anything.

I had fun writing this. There will be more to come with different pairings. Sometimes it’s nice to just write something sweet.

#ghidzilla #godzilla #godorah #king ghidorah #king ghidorah x godzilla #1k words #fluff #perish works

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frenchie-sottises · 4 years

Text

Skelebros Headcannons.

No one asked for these, but whatever. Also, there may be some triggers, so be aware. (It’s mainly trauma stuff.)

Also, this is like, super fucking long. I included quite a few versions.

Papyrus:

- Is over 7′9 without the boots. He’s 7′11 with them. - Smarter than he looks. (I might as well say that this is confirmed cause he apparently knows of Sans’s ability to prank people across time and space.) - Isn’t the best cook when it comes to dishes other than spaghetti, but that doesn’t mean he can’t learn. Excellent baker though! - He didn’t jump out of the window because he forgot the door exists. It’s his way of being comedic. (And it worked.) - He loves Sans’s puns, but he only gets so salty because he feels like the timing could be better. - Almost burned down the house once when he tried to make spaghetti the way Undyne did it, so he learned to tone tf down. He only gets rambunctious when he cooks with Undyne cause, come on, it’s fun to go nuts every now and again. - Isn’t afraid to curse, but he doesn’t do it cause it’s rude.

Sans:

- Is over 5′2 and is literally big boned. (All the Sanses are, really.) - Doesn’t actually know that Papyrus loves his puns. - The jacket he wears is something he made, so this means he’s good at sewing. - He went outside without a shirt once, so when he made the joke about the cold going through him, he opened his jacket as the wind went through. He got sick like a dumbass hours later. - Speaking of dumbasses, he managed to get Papyrus to call him one for getting sick. He’s managed to get Papyrus to cuss also. (They still love each other dearly, don’t worry.) - He totally doesn’t have PTSD. Nope, not at all. It’s definitely not from the genocide routes and seeing his brother get killed multiple times. - Because of his trauma and not having the proper resources to help it, he suffers a form of CFS. (Chronic Fatigue Syndrome.)

Edge:

- Is over 7′10 without the boots. Is 8′2 with them. - No one knows how he can wear heels in the snow. (He runs in them for crying out loud.) - Can be easily flustered when it comes to flirting, but when he’s in the mood to be saucy? Oh boy. - Is practically a professional chef and baker. Undyne’s lessons made him realize that he has to teach himself if he wants to provide decent meals. - Is rough with his brother, but he isn’t straight up mean. It’s more along the lines of him struggling to be kind and gentle out in public. - Half of his encounters usually don’t involve him doing anything. He’s just that intimidating. - People mostly know him for being loud and angry 24/7, but this isn’t always the case. He can control his volume when he needs to, and is actually pretty damn tame. It’s pretty rare to see him genuinely angry.

Red:

- Is the shortest Sans in this list standing at 5′0. - His sweating mostly comes from him trying not to piss off his brother despite the fact that said brother’s made it clear that he would never be angry at him. - He has PTSD, but due to the environment, his symptoms tend to be worse. - He’s resorted to cutting himself several times. His brother has no clue though. - Struggles with his moral code more than his brother. He’s torn between following his own path and suffering possible consequences from the king, and being loyal to the king at all costs to avoid his wrath. - His shoes are always untied, so it’s not uncommon to see him on the ground face down. - If given the chance to take his mind off of things, he will take it. Drugs are off-hands though. You can thank Edge for that.

Stretch:

- Is over 7′6 when he’s not slouching. - The cig’s gonna be lit, but he doesn’t smoke. He only does it cause it makes him look cool. - He actually doesn’t use any drugs, but he did get himself high one time via weed brownies for pure shits and giggles. Boy, was he high off his ass. - Unlike the classic Sans, his jokes have better timing. He’s made Blueberry laugh several times. - “I can make every dirty joke in existence... AND NO ONE CAN STOP ME!” - Stretch at one point in time. - Has an endless supply of hoodies and it confuses his brother to this day. - He’s learned to give mercy while making you wish you were dead. (I may or may not have watched Rising of the Shield Hero.)

Blueberry:

- Is over 5′6 with the boots. Is only 5′5 without them. - Has a bod that screams the power to wrestle BEARS. - Someone teach him how to cook. He keeps overcooking the fucking TACO MEAT- - He has the body of a himbo, the personality of a himbo, and the mind of a himbo- okay, maybe the last one is a little inaccurate. He can be pretty smart. - May or may not be a bit of a perv. - His smile is so bright that it lightens up just about everyone’s moods. - Is a fantastic artist and no one can tell him otherwise.

Pup (Swapfell):

- Is over 7′3 when he’s not slouching. - Does actually smoke. - His blind eye was given from his brother playing far too rough. - He likes to rob people, but will learn to stop if the victim is shown to be far too powerful for him to handle. - Despite his not-so-welcomed attitude, when he’s put in a place where there is no threat of his brother, he can be quite friendly. - Has tried to feel people up in the past, but constantly keeps having his ass handed to him. - Makes only dirty jokes.

Blackberry (Swapfell):

- Is over 5′7 with the boots. Is only 5′4 without them. - Really needs his ass handed to him. - He can say he loves his brother all he wants. Doesn’t excuse why he treats him like shit. - He tends to poison his food when it comes to others. It could possibly contribute to why his brother steals other’s money. (And by “poison”, I mean he’s not a good cook. At all.) - Although he fights a lot, his body doesn’t quite match up to par, and he hates it. - Is easily jealous and possessive. - Surprisingly doesn’t actually swear when he swears.

Slim (Fellswap Red):

- Is over 7′3, and he doesn’t slouch. - Has the fluffiest jacket in existence and wears a lot of the bigger collars. - Is an absolute sweetheart when his brother’s not around. (More so than Red.) - Although he often drinks hot sauce, he’d rather prefer BBQ sauce. - Actually handles his PTSD better than his other lazy counterparts. - Has a bad habit of falling in love too easily. - Is very reserved and quiet for the most part.

Bloodberry (Fellswap Red):

- Is over 5′9 with the boots. Is only 5′6 without them. - Has a bad tendency to be saucy with someone he likes. - Is a decent cook when it comes down to it. - Also struggles with being kind in public. - Has taken a liking to archery. He’s even become good at it. - He hates the queen, but mainly because she’s always cruel to her subjects. He hopes to overthrow her for the betterment of the kingdom. - Unlike Blackberry, he does care for his brother.

Wine (Fellswap Gold):

- Is over 7′4, and he doesn’t slouch. - Since he mostly writes, he’s become a very good writer and artist. - Whenever he’s given a compliment, he sits in silence. He usually doesn’t receive them, so when he does, he kind of just.. breaks. - Like his blacklist, he has a list of names of those who have been extremely kind to him. - Tries not to become someone who has to depend on someone else. - He has days where the braces on his canines hurt like all hell, so he’ll wind up with tears in his eyes. - The constant oppression gets to him sometimes. He isn’t violent, but he will continuously cry and whimper.

Coffee (Fellswap Gold):

- Is over 6′0 with the boots. Is only 5′10 without them. - Wants to try and fix the kingdom so its people aren’t so oppressed. - Will be there for his brother within seconds. - Learned to be a decent cook for his brother. - The oppression gets to him also, but it’s mainly from the people. - A lot of the clothes he and his brother wear are from his own hands. - Has taught his brother some military fighting to protect himself as he is related to someone who the people hate.

Axe (Horrortale):

- Is the biggest Sans on this list standing at 6′7. - Is also the strongest in terms of physical strength. - Really needs to stop seeing human flesh and regular food as the same thing. - To those he cares for, he becomes almost like a guard dog but 10x scarier. - None of the Sanses and Papyruses aside from his own brother mess with him. - If someone is not scared of him for whatever reason, he has some respect for that. He just doesn’t really show it. - Gets easily spooked by really loud noises.

Everest (Horrortale):

- The tallest Papyrus standing at 9′2 with the boots. He’s only 9′0 without them. This also assumes he isn’t slouching, but he always is. - After being without food for so long, he struggles to not eat human flesh. - His kindness challenges classic Papyrus’s. - He hit a growth spurt far too early, and it’s why he’s slouching. (It’s kind of like he suffered Gigantism, but he stopped growing eventually.) - Compared to the other active counterparts, he’s the weakest. - Because of him being so thin, he tends to freeze far more easily. - When he’s pushed in a corner, he will fight back, but it’s best if his brother is with him.

And that ends that. I had these ideas going for a while, so I decided to spill them here. Hope y’all like these.

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cherry3point14 · 4 years

Text

One Helluva Car

Pairing: Dean x Reader Warnings: Minor car fetish, one paragraph of blink-and-you’ll-miss-it smut, a little jealous!Dean, this is crack babes’, I can’t stress this enough: car fetish Word Count: 3,500. Summary: Just a small town girl, living in a lonely world and then one day she sees Baby... A/N: @alexwinchester23 hit me up a THOUSAND years ago with the prompt: dean x reader where she is more “in love” with deans car and it makes him a little jelly lol. And I was like, ha ha ha sure I’ll write it. It’s been half written ever since. So, I finished it. Someone please be proud of me for finishing. (Not like that you animals.) This also fills Driving In The Impala for @spndeanbingo

It’s Monday lunchtime when you see it. Her? It looks like a her. The best cars are ‘hers’ and even from a distance, she has curves that only a good woman could possess.

You’ve had a morning of shitty, old trucks that have been run hard for too long, and new cars that you plug into the computer to diagnose, which takes all the fun out of life. It’s easy to see a mile off that she isn’t shitty or bogged down with modern tech. She’s a well looked after classic. A thing of beauty. A freaking masterpiece. She’s polished enough that the sun bounces off of her black surface like she’s made of glass.

If only your arms weren’t laden with brown paper bags of food you’d take a detour to get a closer look. You could ghost your hand over her hood and take a look at the interior. You bet it’s the softest fucking leather your ass would ever hope to feel.

You’d generally drool over her without actually drooling because God knows spit is not good for the paintwork. Unfortunately, you do have bags filled with hot, meaty subs intended to feed your workforce. And you’re wise enough to know that making a garage of hungry mechanics wait for their lunch is not a good move. It’ll only result in some sort of unnecessary disaster this afternoon that you, their boss, will have to fix or pay for. Or both.

The only thing you can do is take one last look at her, memorize that beautiful shape while you heft the bags closer to your chest and carry on walking. It’s not like you’ve never seen a good old fashion American muscle car before, you have your own ‘70 Mustang at home.

It’s just… this is a Chevvy Impala, arguably the first car to flex its muscles. You don’t see one of those every day.

Your hobby is like a much cooler version of birdwatching. You have an appreciation for cars, classics in particular. The craftsmanship, the design, and the sounds they make as they tear through the world like moving time capsules. Nothing generated by a low emission engine compares.

That’s how you spot her for the second time, on Wednesday.

Well, you hear her first.

You’re closing up for the night. Everyone goes home early on Wednesdays, the shop closes at three, except for you. There’s always paperwork that needs to be done and you hate the idea of taking it home if you can help it. Taking a car home you’re always happy to do, but paperwork? You refuse to dirty your private space like that.

It’s just before six when you’re locking the doors and thunder screams in the distance. At least you think it’s thunder, you wonder where the clouds are until it moves too fast to be a weather condition.

The closer it gets the more the sound transforms into pure, uncut horsepower. It’s the deep rumble of an engine that demands to be heard. It tears your attention to it whether you like it or not. An announcement of the coming vehicle before it arrives.

Then she glides around the corner of Maple and Third before peeling down the street past you. It’s her again, she’s still in town. You know it’s the same car, she isn’t a vehicle made for stealth and your little ol’ town isn’t exactly heaving with beauties like her.

You know she’s not a local, it must be a flying visit, you’re lucky enough to have seen her again before she left. Not just seen her though, heard her. Heard her engine and the screech of her tires on the tarmac. Experiencing her in action is breathtaking enough that you gawp at her like an idiot as she zooms away.

It’s not a fetish or anything. You don’t exactly cuddle an exhaust pipe in bed. You appreciate cars more than your job requires you to, simple. It’s a respect that was drilled into you from a young age. Your dad owns a franchise of shops across the state and never had the boy he always wanted. He didn’t mope about it, he taught you to fix an engine instead. To appreciate every individual piece like an unsolved puzzle. And because your dad is a big ol’ softie he taught you that classic cars can’t be beaten, he favors Camaros in particular. He gave you a garage to work in until you’d labored enough to earn it for keeps and manage it as your own. Your dad raised you to bleed motor oil and sweat gasoline.

Cars are your life. Ok, maybe you’re a bit of a gearhead is all. You can’t help it if that Impala is a fine wine you want to uncork.

You watch the street lights make a hazy path for her to follow, another corner and she’s gone.

At home, you curl up on your sofa and scroll through your usual sites to see how much your own Impala would cost. In good condition, you’d have to sell one of the two cars you already have but there’s this smashed up ‘68 in New Jersey that might be worth the drive for the price. It would basically be a new car by the time you rebuild it but that doesn’t matter. All you needed were the bones of the thing and you never shy away from a project that involves weeks of hunting down original parts, that’s half the fun. For tonight at least it gets bookmarked. The decision left for another day, if it still seems like a good idea in the morning then you’ll make the call.

Hell, maybe tomorrow you’ll see something else and forget all about her. Maybe.

Good looking guys come through town from time to time but Dean is a rare treat. He’s the picture next to ‘handsome’ in the dictionary. He’s got these full lips that you’ve stared at, without an ounce of shame, while he sucks on a beer bottle. A jawline covered in scruff that you’ve already imagined between your thighs. And then there are those hands of his. It could be your line of work but you always loved a man with hands like his. Broad hands and thick fingers. Mechanic hands you’d call them, you half wish they were covered in oil and grease.

He was tapping away on the bar for a while, drumming aimlessly while you drank, but now he’s toppled in your direction. He’s standing between his barstool and yours, while you're still seated, which makes you the perfect height for him to slip an arm around you. His thumb has settled in on tracing the edge of your jeans while he talks to you, tickling your back where your tank had ridden up.

Honestly? He doesn’t even need to be a good lay to be worth the trip to bed.

“I know you said you’re in town with your brother…”

He winces at the start of your sentence, “with the things I’m thinking about doing to you honey, you can’t go mentioning Sammy at the same time.”

Underneath the stained overalls, you’re still a woman and you’re not sure if there’s anyone alive who could resist Dean’s charms. When you laugh at his ridiculous propositioning, you don’t even try to fight when it tails off into a giggle.

“I was going to ask if you had your own room? Or are we going back to my place?”

You’d almost think he’d been playing it cool up until this point. Everything had been measured and smooth. But you ask him that and he finally cracks, urgency slips through that charm offensive. He tilts his head forward as his face hardens into something intense, eyes hooded under the light of the bar. His hand slides up underneath your top enough that his whole palm skates against your skin. “How about a compromise? My car, your place?”

You lean in until you’re almost touching his lips, your tongue peeks out to wet them and flicks against his, taunting. “Deal."

He doesn’t need to know that you walked here and needed a ride home anyway. That's irrelevant.

Stumbling out of the bar is messy. Not because of the alcohol, neither of you have drunk that much, it’s his hands on your waist. They’re possessive and so there.

Maybe he’s not so bad in bed. Maybe he’s actually, pretty good in…

Oh fuck. It’s her.

You’re stopped in your tracks by the sight of your very own white whale. Well, black and shiny Impala but the metaphor stands.

You stop and Dean bumps into you, not expecting it so soon. For a brief moment, you’re frozen in awe, reverence. Even in the dark, she’s perfect. Street lights bouncing off of her smooth exterior. The night is chilly and there’s a hint of condensation creeping around the edges of the windshield which only serves to make her sparkle.

“Wow, she’s-”

“Mine?” Dean finishes, a wry grin on his face and keys dangling from those fingers you’d been drooling over moments ago. Fuck him and his fingers now.

“Shit, Dean. I’ve been seeing this car all week. She’s beautiful.” You walk towards her, carefully, in case you spook her. She’s an old soul, probably jumpy. Your hand reaches out but doesn’t touch her yet because you’re being respectful.

You’d have thought Dean might have appreciated your care. Instead, he laughs and it catches you off guard. You whip your head back around to glare at him and he encourages you, “she won't bite.”

When you finally make contact she’s cool and glossy under your touch, but even so, you don’t run your hand over her like you want to. You can feel the waxed surface that you don’t want to ruin. You know how much effort goes into a good wax job like this. Instead, you trade your whole hand for your fingertips and trace her edges as if trying to remember her shape for when you rebuild your own.

“Ahem.” In the distance, Dean clears his throat. Sucks for him. You’ve got a new love interest.

“Sweetheart?” He asks again, stepping up closer to you as if you didn’t hear him. He sounds needy like he wants you, but it’s edged with this vulnerable envy. You already noticed his bright green eyes in the bar, now you're wondering if there’s a different green-eyed monster at play.

He needs to understand, you saw the car first. She’s held your heart all week, Dean piqued the interest of your lady parts about half an hour ago. You might say age before beauty but this Impala has Dean beat on both fronts, older and more beautiful.

“Where’d you get these rims, if I didn’t know better I’d almost say they’re original,” you spare him a glance over your shoulder. “But I do know better.”

He looks like he’s struggling with not having your full attention, you’d almost say he’s pouting. Then he sticks out his bottom lip and he's definitely pouting. He shuffles from foot to foot and steels his jaw. It makes it even more difficult for him then when you ask questions that he wants to answer. You can see the cogs turning where he’s trying to work out if he should encourage your interest or not. As much as he wants sex, in the end, the gearhead wins out.

“Fixed her up a lot over the years, found those in a junkyard if you believe it.” He steps up next to you now with a proud smile.

“I can believe it. I’ve seen the stuff people throw away. They’re perfect. Can I?” You slide out your phone and wave it at him.

He nods, although a little dumbstruck.

You bend down and snap a picture, explaining. “I was looking at a sixty-eight to rebuild, maybe. Actually, yours gave me the idea, saw her and couldn’t get her out of my head. I have a friend who might be able to help me out with these.”

“You wanna build one?” He sounds interested but not enough to get him off track. The track being you.

“Yeah. I told you I’m a mechanic. Building these things is in my blood.”

The air is cool and you start to feel it, not having intended being outside this long. He sees you shiver and steps behind you running his hands up and down your arms. “Sixty-eight ain’t a sixty-seven though, is it?” He asks, voice dripping with cocky arrogance about his car.

Oh, fuck. He’s figured out the way to your heart. He’s got you all turned around and leaning against her. Back pressed against her metal and glass enough that you’ll be feeling her for weeks.

“No, it’s not…”

“Wanna ride my Baby?” Dean presses his lips to the corner of your mouth with the question, leaving enough space for you to let out an almost inaudible gasp.

You’d be inclined to say men name their cars the dumbest shit sometimes but ‘Baby’ fits somehow. It’s perfect. She’s Baby.

“Yeah,” you nod. Right now, it's all you’ve ever wanted.

He walks you to the passenger’s side door and opens it’s for you. It’s not even romantic, it’s a fucking turn on.

Maybe you do have a car fetish. You should probably figure that out, like, another day.

In the time it takes Dean to strut to the other side you have sunk into the leather and just as you imagined, it’s soft. Worn and loved, like everything else about this beauty. This is what’s makes her special and that’s why you would have to love your own extra hard. To make up the years of neglect.

“Ready to go?”

He’s looking at you, smirking in your peripheral, and you’re looking at his fingers on the keys. You know what’s going to happen when he turns them. You’re still not prepared.

“Let’s do it.” A grin slides onto your face.

She rumbles to life beneath you. The vibrations from her engine shudder through the seat straight to your core. From there you swear the horsepower zips to every nerve ending in your body like electricity powering a city. And the sound could strike you down. She somehow purrs and roars at the same time. Each rev is a scream but her engine sings between each turn.

“Two eighty-three?” You ask, bottom lip caught behind your teeth.

“Get out of here with that two eighty-three crap. She’s a three twenty-seven.” He snaps, but not really, pressing his foot on the gas again just to see you quiver. Another rotation of the engine, her power, rolls through you.

He pulls out onto the road, leaving the dive behind, and drifts a little as he does, the back of her floating into the road. You slide over the seat an inch and he’s half focused on you, half focused on driving, so you're not even sure if he planned it. You scoot closer to him and he weighs his arm, the one not currently steering, around your shoulders. You’re becoming increasingly aware that the car smells like him, or he smells like her. Leather, sweet and spicy, musky. It’s a complicated mix where you’re not sure whether it's more her or him. You want to wrap yourself up in it all the same but Baby can’t wrap you up, Dean can.

“Dean I… Next left… I really, really love this car.”

He licks his lips as he looks down at you, his pupils wide, probably has a clear view of your chest, “yeah? How much, sweetheart?”

“A lot.” You pant in his ear, teeth grazing his lobe. “Second right, then it’s the third house on the left.”

A growl comes out of him. Determined. And you’re not so sure you care about fucking Dean anymore but each time you work him up a little higher, he revs that gorgeous engine and you get to feel that thunder. It’s the best circle jerk you could imagine, everyone is truly happy.

He pulls up in front of your house in record time because Baby is gunning 285 horsepower, so she’s not exactly going to be beat.

The problem, that you hadn’t really planned on, is arriving at your destination. As soon as he cuts the engine you puncture. Missing the everything about her straight away and wishing you’d kept driving for hours. Still, you have the scent of leather everywhere, burdening your senses with the smell of a bygone era. You hike a leg over Dean and sit in his lap. A knee either side of his thighs, denting her seats and Baby’s steering wheel holding the curve of your ass. Your hands skip Deans’ shoulders in favor of the seat behind him, the cushioned bench under the pads of your fingers, as you attach your mouth to his. Sandwiched between Baby and Dean, and you never want to leave the spot.

Your tongue curls into his mouth at the same time that he presses his fingers into your hips so tight you’re sure there’ll be bruises. You’ve never worried about a tight grip on you before but he starts pulling you towards him and away from where you’re wedged on Baby. The more you lean your body into Dean, the less you feel his car.

“Baby.” You murmur into him. Dean must mistake it to be a pet name you’re borrowing, calling him, because he pulls you again. Actually you’re telling him where you want to be, to stay.

Here. With Baby.

“This is a nice neighborhood.” He hums in this tone that’s deep but it doesn’t go through you like the sound of a turbo V-8. “We should take this inside.”

He’s right. Carl from the damn neighborhood watch is probably already doing just that, watching. The pervert.

“Right, sure.” You agree despite the way your stomach drops at the thought of leaving her.

You’re all untangling limbs getting out and he kisses you once more against Baby before you allow him to drag you away. It already feels different, normal, boring.

Dean’s fine, he’s good, he’s handy. Like you’d thought he would be.

You wrap your mouth around his dick because you’ve always liked looking up through your lashes and seeing the way a guy goes breathless on your tongue. He works you open on his thick fucking fingers until the pressure in your stomach snaps with his thumb circling your clit. He pushes into you and the stretch, the burn, is perfect. Dean is better in bed than you’d expected him to be.

And yet, it’s empty. Dulled. It doesn’t scratch the itch like good sex used to. The whole experience dampened compared to what you’d felt sitting in the front seat of his 1967 Chevy Impala.

You slip on some oversized shirt from your floordrobe to walk him out when he leaves. Neither of you under any impression that he’s staying the night. He’s got this satisfied grin on his face that he hasn’t been able to wipe off since the first time he came. He stops at your doorstep, “thanks, sweetheart. This was fun.”

“Sure was,” you agree, not giving him the full story. Standing at your doorway you’re looking at Baby instead of Dean, again. “Let me know if you’re still in town tomorrow, I’d love to go for another ride.”

He nods and backs away a few steps until he’s in your line of sight along with his car, “will do, baby.”

He must think you mean sex. You wouldn't be opposed to it but you mean a drive. A real drive with wide roads, and opening the taps. You can break that to him tomorrow if he does give you that call. If he doesn't then there's only one thing you need to say before he leaves. One thing you can't let her leave without saying.

“One helluva car you got there, Dean.”

Second A/N: Look, this didn’t start out as a full on car fetish but I was writing it and SOMETIMES I HAVE NO CONTROL. Sometimes these characters they say, “fuck you!” and do what they want. I was going to write a nice little jealousy thing. Dean wants some attention. That’s all. You only have yourselves to blame readers!

5eva tags: @divadinag @darthdeziewok @fluentinfiction @witch-of-letters @supernatural-teamfreewill-blog @magnitude101999 @alexwinchester23 @jesseswartzwelder Dean babes: @thewinchesterchronicles @akshi8278 @bloodydaydreamer @iamabeautifulperson18 @erins-culinary-service

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xenoredux · 5 years

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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wanderingpages · 5 years

Text

Version 1

All Human, Dark AU (Part 1). You don’t name your livestock; they’re easier to kill that way. Cardan has a job, getting information out of young college student, Jude. But getting information means getting close but how close can he get if at any given moment, he can be given the order to kill her?

Trigger Warnings: Crude language, Drugs, Sex, Murder/Talks of murder, Sexual/Physical Assault.

∞ Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10

∞

Cardan’s POV

It’s cold outside, but it doesn’t bother me as much as it should. I'm more annoyed about the fact that I’m on babysitting duty. Standing in the dark like some perv stalker was never my forte, but I might be on probation for setting off a bomb or two at my maybe brother’s estate. With all the dick wetting my father’s been doing since before condoms were invented, I wouldn’t be surprised if I had a whole country of half siblings I’m unaware of. Balekin, my maybe brother, was not necessarily the target of the explosion, but I probably shouldn’t have assumed he wasn’t in the house with his wife.

Although I was hoping he was.

He’s managed to escape, almost too smoothly, but his wife never made it. With how things went that night, she was supposed to be dead before the explosion. The detonation was only to ensure there were no body, no traceable evidence and no witnesses.

I roll my eyes, more annoyed at the thought of Balekin. That spineless piece of shit is still in the hospital, being treated for burns and maybe a broken bone or two.

A few weeks later, Madoc assigns me to this job. Of course, I can veto anything I want, because whatever I don’t take, Madoc takes instead. He didn’t give me that choice this time. He said that was all we had planned and he knows how much I hate doing absolutely nothing. As much as I hate watching people from afar. My go to methods are usually straight to the point, torture, murder that whole thing. Madoc’s more for the marinating and spooking before pulling out the big guns.

I like to pretend we’re partners but the truth is, Madoc calls the shots most of the time. I just like seeing things go up in flames. There’s always a war between gangs and bikers and politicians and Hell, even neighbors, and the two of us are the last resort so to speak. When there’s no going back and there’s nothing left to do, it’s either one of us that gets called in. We’re the end game, and more so dangerous because we have no ties. Our loyalty lies with the most money offered on a first come first served bases.

Usually I ask for the most basic of information on any given target, but Madoc doesn’t give me anything. When he says shit like, “I’m not trying to punish you,” I know damn well that he is, in fact, trying to punish me.

“I don’t want her killed.”

“Then what do you want?”

“Just watch her tonight and report back.”

“Why?”

“I’ll explain later, I have to go.”

My hood is up, now and I blend easily into the shadows, leaning against a big oak tree that sort of marks the perimeter of this house’s backyard and the lake that separates these little rich kids and the less fortunate a boat ride away. Very West Egg/ East Egg of Elfhame. Most of the party is being held outside, though I’ve seen people head back to the house, probably to fuck or shoot up their crack without prying eyes. The music is muffled, some kids are snorting blow, some are shot gunning beer, a joint is being passed, someone jumps into the pool, a couple fights and finally. She walks in.

In a firm fitting set of leggings and a white shirt tied in the front, showing off her mid section, she’s questionably dressed down. Three gold necklaces dangle off her neck, the longest one settling by her belly button and the shortest looking like a golden collar. Her hair is swept up in a knot atop her head, golden earrings dangle from her ears and her lips are a dark red that has my dick twitching. Of course I’d be the one imagining her lips wrapped around my cock, knowing full well that Madoc doesn’t want her dead tonight but he’ll eventually give me the okay to slit her throat soon.

The picture of her in my pocket does her no justice. It was taken maybe five or so years ago. Same soft heart shaped face, light walnut colored eyes, full lips – just more defined. Pretty then, gorgeous now. She arrives with two friends and their small group immediately disperses. What idiots. Even I know about the buddy system at parties, and a party like this isn’t one to walk alone in. She walks towards the white table that’s a few feet in front of me and smiles when the boy manning the drinks hands her an unopened bottle of beer.

“I wasn’t expecting to see you here,” the boy tells her.

She shrugs, “Hey, Roach.” My body stiffens. While we’ve never met face to face, I’ve worked for a Roach. I’ve also worked against him. I can’t tell for sure who I’m working with tonight and I hope to god Madoc didn’t put me into a lion’s den. What the fuck is he doing at a college party? Better yet, what the fuck is she doing here?

She turns and leans against the table, her back to me now. She scans over the party but she doesn’t really seem to be all there.

“Lil come with you?” I hear Roach ask and her response is a cute little laugh.

“Yeah, she did.” She juts her chin to the other end of the yard where one of the girls she came in with is dancing with another girl. “Go ahead, I’ll watch the drinks for you.”

He laughs, but he’s already walking around the table, “Thanks, I owe you one.” She waves him off, waits a beat then tilts her head to the side. “You can come out now.”

I grimace but take a step out of the shadows. “How’d you know?”

She lets out a hum, “I don’t know, but you were the first person I saw when I got here. Figured you were hiding out from the crowd. Not sure how I even spotted you,” she admits. “Anyways, were you dragged out tonight too?”

I figure I might as well play along and see how far that gets me. “Yeah.”

“Oh – are you one of the frat pledges?” I snort and she laughs, “Yeah, they don’t seem like your crowd. Want a drink?” She holds out her beer towards me, reaching back and pointing in my general direction. She hasn’t turned to see me and I’ve barely moved from my perch behind the table. I reach out and grasp the bottle she hadn’t sipped from. I empty it on the grass.

“So, you go to Hollow Hall?”

“No.”

“Oh.” She hoists herself up on the table and reaches for another beer on the cooler besides her. she holds it out as a boy steps up and he grins, taking it from her. “Are you from around here?”

“West Egg.”

She laughs, “Insmoor?” she lets out a whistle. “New money, huh?” It sounds like she wants to say more but the boy cuts her off.

“Hey, I thought I saw you here.” Completely ignoring our conversation being had, he moves closer to her, nearly caging her in, but she stops him with a palm to his chest and a small shove back. He holds his hand up in surrender, but the smirk on his face grows dim. I narrow my eyes at him. To play busy, I check my phone for the time and any missed calls or texts. It’s only half past ten and Madoc has yet to contact me.

“Wrong twin,” she mutters, as I look back up to catch her swinging her legs lightly and leaning back on her palms. It looks like she’s giving him space to move in on her, but one kick of her legs a little too hard can have his balls retreating into themselves. It takes me a moment to catch her response and I wonder if I have the wrong twin as well.

The boy chuckles and pops the cap of his beer, “Trust me,” he mewls, and I might just kill him on the spot. He irks me and I’ve offed people for less. “There’s nothing,” he winks, “wrong about you.” He takes a swig, keeping his eyes trained on her. She sighs in time with someone calling out a name. Locke. It must have been his because he gives her a mocking little salute before heading off. “Catch you later. Save me a dance and all that.”

She waits until he disappears into a crowd before she drops down on her elbows and looks up at the sky. “Sorry about that,” she says to me. “That was my sister’s ex. Or something. They’re kind of on again off again.” I hum noncommittally. I don’t care who he is, but I might want to know what his ride is. A popped tire or two should do little harm. It’s quiet between us for a while then she says, “It’s pretty, isn’t it?” I step closer, standing directly behind her now. She leans all the way back, resting her head on the edge of the table. I watch her shirt rise up further exposing smooth skin I want to mark. Her eyes go wide when she finally sees me, but to her credit, she doesn’t move from her spot. The pulse in her neck visibly throbs faster and the low fairy lights hung about show the pink sheen creeping into her cheeks.

“What is?” I ask.

She blinks, eyes darting between mine, trying to see what the hoodie obscures. I do her a favor and drag the hood off, amused when she gasps. She takes in my dark eyes and even darker hair, sharp bones and pale skin. I’m no angel but I sure as hell can pass as an avenging one. No one suspects the pretty boy for murder. I smirk and lean down, only enough to hear her deep intake of breath. “Jude,” I prompt. “What is?”

“Huh?”

“Pretty.”

“Y –” I smile and she catches herself. “I mean, the stars. They’re…they’re pretty. And you can see them so clearly…” she trails off, glancing at my lips. I lick at them and she follows suit like an instinct. Something primal in me wants to hold her to the table at exactly this angle, her pretty red lips open and taking all of me in as I keep my hands around her slim neck. Her breathing gets heavier and she swallows thickly. “How…how did you know my name?”

I lean down further, resting my palm on either side of her head, gripping the edge of the table. “You told me,” I whisper.

She shakes her head, voice hoarse. “No…I didn’t.”

Someone clears their throat before I can respond. I give her enough room so she can sit up straight. It’s Roach and a petite girl I assume is Lil. “Hope we’re not interrupting,” her voice sounds as if there’s always veiled laughter behind her words.

Jude shakes her head and rubs a hand over her cheek, “No. No, nothing – not at all. Hi, Liliver.”

“Hi, Jude,” she laughs and Jude scrambles off of the table. She turns to face me, but she can’t quite meet my eyes. Liliver looks me over, cautiously. Smart girl. She tilts her head to the side and tugs at Jude’s arm, “Come on, let’s go make the rounds and head home.”

“Make the rounds?” Jude laughs but I have the same question. “This is a frat party – you know that, right?” I don’t hear her response because the small girl is already pulling her to a group of people – the boy from earlier, Locke, amongst the crowd.

Roach stands beside me, taking in the same scene as me. “How do you know Jude?”

“Just met her,” I tell him.

He makes a noise of interest. “It’s not really my place to say,” he admits, “I only really know her through my girl, but…don’t hurt her, okay?” I don’t answer because in truth, I don’t know how long this grace period lasts. At any moment Madoc can tell me to kill her and I would in a heartbeat. At this point, she’s livestock and I'm the farmer setting her up for slaughter.

Instead I make small talk with Roach, feeling him out first then getting as much as I can on Jude. It’s not much but it’s a start. I keep up with her from a distance, mingling with people, testing out my social skills, gaining intel. The last three are moot for the most point.

Too long later, I’m at the side of the house, leaned against a pillar with my phone to my ears. Tired. Madoc is on the other end, sounding partially annoyed and partially amused. I never call him more than once in a whole trip let alone a night. “Maybe if you’d give me more information,” I say lowly, “I’d know how to handle this.”

He chuckles, “So you’ve seen her?”

“Yes. We talked.”

He sounds surprised, “Really? Anything useful? How’d she look? You sure it’s the right girl?”

“When have I ever gotten the wrong person? She looks like the picture you gave me. But older. I don’t know, filled out. Pretty. You could have told me she has a twin.”

“Twin’s in a different country. Some abroad thing; nothing you have to worry about.” He sighs, his voice sounding gruff, “Any information you need about her, you can get from her yourself, okay? Converse with her, find common ground, get her to trust you and keep your story as close to the truth as possible without telling her you know, you kill people for a living. And for the fun of it.”

“Since when do we get close to the people we’re watching? Nothing about this makes sense.”

“Just trust me, okay. Get her to tell you about her family.”

I peer around the corner when I hear a commotion. It’s Jude and Locke. My blood boils at the sight of this dumbass pressing his chest to hers. She’s clearly trying to push him away but her movements seem too lagged and weak. I frown. “If she gets in a situation that may or may not get her killed, am I to intervene?”

“What?” Madoc asks, “What the fuck is happening?”

“It’s a college party, what the fuck do you think is about to happen?”

“Get her the fuck out of there.”

“Am I protecting her?” I’ve never had to talk in circles around Madoc like this before. It’s infuriating.

“Yes! For god’s sake, she needs to be alive.” I roll my eyes and hang up, pocketing my phone.

I make my presence known just in time to see he has his arm pressed against Jude’s neck. She has her head turned away, pressing her face into the wall, “Locke, no,” she begs, “Please.”

Locke’s other hand is pressed down on her stomach inching closer and closer beneath the waistband of her pants. “Oh come on, Jude. I’ve seen how you look at me. Seen how jealous you were of Taryn. Know you’ve wanted me since the day we met, but your greedy sister got to me first. I thought about you, you know. Wondered if your pussy would be tighter than hers, wondered if you’d taste just as good –fuck,” he gets cut off when her face turns and she clamps her teeth down on his arm. “Stupid bitch,” he shoves her back, her head banging against the wall. She moans and he grunts, holding his wound.

“What the fuck is going on?” Locke doesn’t even turn to look at me. “Nothing. Get out of here, my girl and I are a bit busy right now.”

Jude’s eyes widen and she opens her mouth to say something but the bastard tries to press his lips against hers. She screams in protest and I grab a fistful of his hair, pulling him back. Jude slumps against the wall, and presses a hand to her chest. I frown at the rip in her shirt, lacy black bra peaking through, a missing necklace and her hair askew around her shoulders. I turn Locke around to face me and he looks angry. Before he can utter a word, my hands go to his wrists and I bend them back causing him to scream. My hands are at his throat, next, muffling his voice. “I thought I asked you what the fuck was going on.”

“N-nothing,” he wheezes out, gasping for air I’m not giving him as tears prick at the corner of his eyes.

I squeeze my fingers harder into his skin and press him into the wall right next to Jude. “Didn’t look like nothing,” I grit, reaching into the waistband of my jeans. Jude gasps when she sees it and scrambles back. I press the barrel of my gun to the side of Locke’s head. I like to play, but it’s looking like I’m lacking time and seclusion for that. Still, I give my new friend, Locke, here, a little taste. “I think she said no, didn’t she?”

His eyes widen and his head starts to shake. I narrow my eyes at him, moving the gun down to his cheeks. “Are you telling me she wanted you to violate her?” I open his jaw forcefully, shoving the barrel between his lips. “No teeth,” I wink and force the gun down deeper. He gags and cries and the smell tells me he’s pissed his pants as well. “Good boy,” I taunt, “Take it like the good boy you are, right?” In and out I shove the pistol and I turn to Jude who’s eyes are wide. I caress the trigger with my finger, “Should I, darling?” She stares at Locke and fire blazes in her eyes. “Shoot him?” I prompt. She looks like she wants to answer in the affirmative, especially when she runs a hand down her stomach where fingerprints seemed to have left a mark. I shove the gun harder in his mouth. She gets up on quivering legs and shakes her head.

I shrug and pull the gun out, “See, I know when a lady says no, she means no.”

I caress the gun against his cheek and smile. I’ll be back for the motherfucker. I wipe my gun across Locke’s shirt before pocketing it and gesture for Jude to join me. I turn my gaze to her, noting how her body starts to shiver almost violently. I yank off my hoodie and hand it to her. She shoves it on and hugs her arms around her torso. She rushes into the side of me, immediately burying herself against me.

“Come on,” I say, softly and lead her towards my ride. She doesn’t put up a protest, but I notice the effort it takes for her to walk. I grab her behind the legs and shoulder, holding her cradled to my chest. She squeaks in surprise but hangs on to my neck. I make my way to the truck and settle her in before walking to the driver’s side. I grab an unopened bottle of water from the console and tell her to drink it. She eyes me warily but I watch and wait until she opens it and tips it against her mouth. “Your friend,” I say.

It takes a moment for her to swallow half the contents of the bottle. She swipes her mouth with the back of her hand and tugs the sleeve of my sweater over her fingers. Cute. “Lil? Ah, she um…she’s leaving with Roach, uh Van – the guy mixing drinks.”

“And the other girl?”

Her brows furrow, “Were you watching me?”

I tell her the truth, heeding Madoc’s advice. “Yeah.”

“Oh,” She says startled, “uh no, she left a while ago,” Jude admits. She leans back against the headrest and closes her eyes. “Fuck,” she murmurs, quietly.

“Where’s home?”

“Off campus – but wait,” she says, her hand coming to rest on my hand that’s on the gear shift. She quickly pulls back when she realizes what she’s done and clears her throat, “Please, I don’t want to go home yet.” Her voice is small and soft. “I don’t want to be alone.”

My face softens. “He won’t hurt you again,” I promise her.

She nods, “I know, I just. I can’t be alone right now. There’s a McDonald’s close by. I could really use a Happy Meal,” she murmurs, resting her head on the window.

I nod and peel out of the parking spot. “Are you okay?”

She shrugs, “I think I will be. Thank you for…that,” she says cautiously. She bites at her lips and stares at me with lidded eyes that try to fight the sleep pulling her in.

“I thought you were smarter than that. Taking a spiked drink.”

She frowns, but nods, “Usually I am. I don’t know why I hadn’t checked. I never take drinks unless they’re sealed.” She picks at her thumb, “So, uh, should I be worried – you know, out of the fire and into the frying pan, and all?”

“I’m not going to kill you, if that’s what you’re hinting at. But you should probably be worried.”

“Right,” she mutters, fidgeting in her seat. “Was the,” she whispers, “gun loaded?” I grin at her, more endeared than I should be.

“Why would I carry an unloaded gun?”

Her face pales even more than possible. “I don’t know. Scare tactic? If I had said yes – you would have…you know?”

I quirk an eyebrow, “Shot him? Yes.”

“But why? I mean, why didn’t you? You could have? I…I wanted you to,” she admits. “It’s not the first time he’s done something like this. But…It’s the first time he’s really, you know. Touched me.” Her hand presses against her lower stomach where I had seen him try to shove his hands in her pants. My grip gets tighter on the steering wheel.

“Why didn’t you tell me to shoot him, then?”

She laughs in disbelief and says quietly to herself, “I can’t believe this is a conversation I’m having.” To me, she says, “I figured there’d be a lot of witnesses. And it would be bloody.”

“Hard mess to clean but doable,” I chuckle. I knew she would have said no for those same reasons. I pull into the drive through and order her a kid’s meal and a McFlurry. We stay in the parking lot to eat and I put on the cab lights on for her. She eats her small little fries first, eyeing me as I lick the spoon of the McFlurry.

She brushes her hair back, not bothering to fix it since we’ve left. She looks decisive. “I’m keeping this sweater.”

“Yeah?”

She nods, “Yeah. I’ll also help you finish off your McFlurry if you tell me your name.”

I smirk as she digs in the bag for the nuggets. She also pulls out a small toy with a key hook attached to its head. It looks like a Care Bear or something. She hands it to me with a questioning look and I take it and place it on the dashboard. She smiles at this and I wait until she’s finished the small meal before I hand her my ice cream. “Cardan.”

She pauses, her hand meeting mine in the middle to grab on to the cup. “Cardan,” she repeats.

“Most know me as King.”

∞

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butterflyinthewell · 4 years

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OKAY lemme just mess around because it’s cracking me up and I need to laugh at something ridiculous.

Who in the Godzilla fandom has watched Inuyasha??

So we have our big bastard Godzilla, right?

SO WHAT IF GODZILLA WAS A DEMON IN THE SENGOKU JIDAI...AND LIKE SESSHOUMARU HE CAN TAKE A HUMANOID FORM...

And imagine it’s an anime version TJ Storm himself with yellow eyes(that glow electric blue when he’s about to transform), pointy ears, fangs and claws for fingernails.

COME ON. LOOK HOW PRETTY HE IS.

Can anybody else imagine this too?!

Only really old demons know what his true form looks like. Watching him transform is a once in a lifetime awe inspiring event. His eyes glow electric blue, he starts emitting glowing blue radioactive steam from his nose and mouth and his dorsal spines appear, ripping through whatever clothing he’s wearing. Then he stomps one foot, which shakes the ground and shoots dirt up into the sky like a mushroom cloud. And as that cloud is rising he disappears into it in a blue flash, and when the smoke clears there stands Godzilla!

He is an extremely rare saurian demon who was born in the early Cretaceous period of the Mesozoic era. He is so old that he remembers the dinosaurs and witnessed the asteroid impact that killed them all.

In his humanoid form he goes by the name Jira. To most people, it sounds like “Jeeda” because of how kids mispronounce and shorten Gojira, so it sticks. Jira or Jeeda, he answers to either. 😋

Jira is a really super OG demon who just wants to sleep and people keep scrambling around him for the Shikon Jewel.

He has an “I don’t give a fuck” vibe that rivals Sesshoumaru’s, but he is a bit less cold about it. (Because he actually smiles more often than mr haughty dog fluff boy...) He LOVES kids and will be really warm and playful to them. On an average day he’s very polite and reserved. He isn’t roused into battle by badmouthing and insults, but harm a child or threaten him enough and it’s all over for whoever made that mistake.

Demon kids and human kids both love Jira because he’s always nice to them. His most important moral code is to never harm a child on purpose, so he never has and never will. (Some might have been hurt or killed accidentally when he battled ancient foes in demon form, but he tries not to think about that.)

Kagome would like him right away because he’s polite to her, but it’s likely they will only meet in very brief passing and she will be spooked by the feel of his demonic aura because it’s so ancient.

Inuyasha would probably badmouth the guy, but in the end he respects him enough to not start a fight with him. Jira calls him a child a lot and ooooh he hates that.

Shippo thinks he’s the coolest dude ever, but still respects him.

Sesshoumaru wouldn’t fear him, but he would respect him as an ancient one he has known since his infancy.

Koga would not go within ten feet of this guy. He made the mistake of trying to cross him once and learned respect the hard way. He will find an excuse to leave if he sees Jira show up.

Naraku tried to fuck with him and he only survived because he had the Shikon Jewel shards in him. He never tried that again and leaves this guy alone.

Like, Jira is so powerful that he can’t really do anything major in the Inuyasha plot because he would end the story in a second and that’s no fun. Really, a guy who can punch holes in mountains and vaporize things with his breath is not somebody you throw in front of Naraku. 😋

Maybe he occasionally drops clues or offers directions to ancient locations few know about. Most of the time you might see him snoozing under a tree in the background, and nobody fucks with him because he can shake the earth by roaring, exhale a miasma that neutralizes the powers of other demons so they’re no stronger than typical humans and he can spit out a strange blue beam that makes people sick if they survive the impact...it’s really radiation poisoning because they don’t know what radioactivity is in the Sengoku Jidai.

His demonic aura has a peculiar smell only full demons can pick up— it’s the radiation in his blood. It tends to rise when he’s angry. Somebody with a Geiger counter pointed at him would notice the radiation levels spiking at the same time Kagome notices his aura intensifying. When he’s calm, he is perfectly safe to touch or stand close to without any ill effects. He has total control of his radiation and knows when not to raise it.

Oh, and he can’t drown because he can still breathe underwater.

Few have seen Godzilla transform into his giant demon form. Not even Sesshoumaru has seen it, though his parents did many thousands of years ago. There are legends and stories about it that get really hard to find in modern times, so it’s no surprise that the legend of the fire breathing man who couldn’t drown fell through history’s cracks.

NOW THE FUN PART...

Kagome is still able to go back and forth in time. She keeps sensing a strong demonic presence in modern times, but doesn’t know why.

UNTIL 2014.

Everything carries on the same as in Godzilla 2014 and KOTM. Kagome stays the hell out of it because those are not her battles to fight.

Afterward, she goes out to a nearby park to relax after the planet almost frigging died, and she bumps into a very pretty looking black guy in a black t-shirt and gray shorts while he’s taking a nap under a tree...

#inuyasha #godzilla #sesshomaru #sesshoumaru #koga #naraku #shippo #monsterverse #kagome higurashi #sengoku jidai #crossover #swearing #gif #eye contact #tj storm #he was the mocap actor for Godzilla!

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itscolourmix · 5 years

Photo

Messy lil things i drew for a certain non-canon event which i just refer to as “The Titan fight” . MC gets overpowered by Invictus and is forcefully turned into a Titan. I wrote a small story about him noticing strange things before it happened, and he goes to TF (nickname for @novadly ‘s Au Gary) for help since they both had connections with a Titan/s. You can read below

disclaimer that im not a professional writer and i know i’d have plenty of mistakes in this story. But please keep in mind that im not aiming for a masterpiece but rather, me just trying to describe what i see in my mind to the best of my ability. Please enjoy.

“Welcome back to “watch me try and describe with best detail what I pictured in my mind” Ft TF & MC.

So yeah I’ve talked about a (non canon) idea where, before MC got possessed by Invictus and turned into a Titan, he actually felt it coming weeks prior. And that, during another Multiverse party he seeks out TF to help him since he’s also linked in some way.

Annnddd yeah, I kind pictured MC finds TF chilling in some booth with his legs on the table, in his own little world. As I’ve sorta drawn out, MC asks to talk to him & while TF isn’t fully prepared he says yes anyway.

MC struggles with an opening sentence, but eventually just lands on ”........something’s wrong” and it all comes flooding out. Everything feels different, day to day things seem off. His hallucinations aren’t as frequent, but when they come, it’s almost as if they’re trying to get something across without even saying anything. It’s been about two weeks and MC’s paranoia is sky rocketing. He feels as if the curse is lying low, waiting for something, but what? he has no clue whatsoever. By this time MC’s already in some sort of panic. He’s stressing out about it. He’s terrified. He wants help.

TF’s a bit overwhelmed, but he keeps listening, kinda hoping some idea will magically appear in his mind. But it hasn’t come. He’s already at a loss for words.

I guess TF manages to ask a few more questions about the situation, like, did it start for any reason, is there anything consistent with the hallucinations, and what does MC think it all means.

MC’s just about to finish a question when he gets hit with a similar weight you might feel when your low on iron. When your head feels heavier and your vision gets blinded for a moment. Of course in this version there’s a sudden sting that makes him wince a little, and when he finally blinks it away the whole party’s muffled, like someone covered his ears. Everything’s in slow motion. Some feeling gets him to look out in the crowd and there, hidden among all the other Gary’s , is this massive black wolf just standing there with its head lowered, breathing heavily like it’s gone for a big run. But the breathing's loud, and growls in a way. It sounds like there’s gravel in its throat.

It echoes. It’s got big, maroon coloured eyes, which glowed so fiercely that it almost seemed like it was on fire. It was like staring into the sun, which hurt MC’s sight & immediately hit him with a headache painful enough that he squeezed his eyes shut and turned away. He could still hear the breathing echo. This was obviously another hallucination, but had no idea what he was supposed to do with this.

By this time, TF’s clicked together what was going on, and so he leans across the table and shakes MC’s shoulder gently enough to not startle him, and calls out his name loudly enough that he could focus on him.

“Yo, are you good?”

“I..” , MC trailed off. He attempted to focus on where TF was exactly, and the hallucination seemed to slowly slip away. But the breathing still echoed. MC looked down at his hands. He was falling apart, his skin from the hands down was unraveling like ribbons, blood came pouring out of his arms, his bones where separated into pieces that all floated around him like there was no gravity.

“I’m....uhhh...”

His eye’s were bleeding out, bleeding all over his clothes. Everything got darker. He felt tired all of a sudden, really tired, like he could fall asleep and never wake up. But he fought at it. He blinked hard a few times, and found TF’s concerned stare. “I....” MC’s voice cracked from fear “I don’t know..”

He stared at his left hand, which was slowly disintegrating, and ran fingers through his hair with the right. Pulling the hair back out of his face for a moment. He had no idea what to make of this, but it was proving his point.

“I don’t know what’s going on with me”

MC was so desperate that he was ready to fall to pieces. He was inches away from another sob fest. He just wanted an answer. He just wanted help. He tried so hard to fight the tears back when he looked TF straight in the eye and said “I need help”

“Please,” he begged, “ I thought coming to you would be the right thing. I need help. I need to figure this out.”

TF almost sank into his seat with more guilt that ideas. He couldn’t help, and wasn’t even ready to face the intensity that came with all this. His eyes darted around, too nervous to look MC in face. He finally shrugged and built up the courage to say “Dude, I....I don’t know how to help you....I’m not exactly the smartest guy around”

“But,” fear kept building in MC’s chest, “You’re linked to Bolo, aren’t you?!”

TF forced a smile, which looked more anxious than anything “WAS. TWO YEARS AGO”

The anxious smile unnaturally stretched wider and a pained wheeze escaped him “He chose me to be his successor even though I have like 0 of his brains..” TF was looking at MC now, “I don’t even know what I’m doing half of the time with these powers”

So many things were consuming MC at this point that all he could do was lower his eyes and ask, “He doesn’t even exist as a gut feeling? Or like some force ghost? None of his conscious is around anymore?”

TF nodded, “Man, honestly? I kinda wish he did. Right now I’d prefer to be back when he was just a voice in my head. A force ghost would have been the coolest thing. But, no. I’m sorry”

There was a brief silence before MC sighed, defeated. “So, I could be screwed? Whatever they’re planning to do...that’s just it?” MC felt like giving up. He wish he did ages ago. Maybe things would’ve been easier then. Seeing MC look this tired and unhappy made TF already feel a deep regret. It was difficult, seeing an alternate version of yourself depressed, but to let them down? Like yeah, a lot of people let people down. And maybe you can let yourself down from time to time. But to see it happen in front of you. To see a reaction. It was enough .TF’s anxiety was traded for that small spark of determination. He had to come up with something, give this guy some hope.

“You know what? Why don’t we go with my gut feeling ? A good old Goodspeed feeling! From pal to pal.”

Mc looked up at him.

“I say, we wait it out. If you can’t make out what’s going on and I can’t, then we need to collect some more info. Let these things come, but try not to get too spooked. Try and read what’s going on. Write it on a sticky note and piece it together. From what you’ve told me, yeah, somethings definitely afoot. But nothing the Master Commander can’t handle, right?” TF leaned over once again to deliver a light fist bump to MC’s shoulder. “Your powerful! And cool! And your super tough. You’re a super tough Goodspeed! I believe in you, dude. You’ve kept it together this long”

The first, genuine smile broke out from MC’s lips, and he chuckled a bit “How the hell have I?”

“ I donno bro, but your fantastic at it! So keep going.”

They shared a fist bump

“Thanks. I’ll uh, take your advice into account”

After a moment, MC moved his way out of the booth, but before he stood up, TF reached a hand out. “Hang on! Just before you go. Does anybody know about this? What you’ve told me”

“....No. I don’t want to worry them. If I told Star his eyes would be glued to me 24/7. He hates Invictus so, if it sturs trouble for me I’m not sure whether he’d try to kill me or not.”

“Well, just in case, maybe mention it- or, if anything happens, let me know. If you can’t come maybe send Star?”

Mc tittered, “If things hit the interstellar fan, then yes. But let’s hope not”

....

little does he know

#final space #colourmix's art #starboy #mc #tf #gary goodspeed #yeehaww #titan fight

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belphegor1982 · 5 years

Note

AND ALSO THAT TIME YOU KILLED PHIL

I’m never gonna live that one down, am I :D Okay, let’s go.

He always says it, and Lawrence always shrugs. It’s almost becomean in-joke now.

The prompt was “You don’t have to stay”, and I have no idea why my mind conjured the image of Spy (at the end of a long, eventful life) in a hospital bed saying this to Sniper. But once it took hold it wouldn’t let go. And, y’know, for all that I love writing humour, banter, and/or fluff, sometimes I just have to let rip with the brutal down-to-earth feels. Like when I wrote If.

Of the two of them, it’s hard to say who hates hospitals the most,so Philippe is always grateful when Lawrence comes to visit. Usuallyhe comes alone, but sometimes one of his grandnephews or nieces comeswith him, Lizzie’s and Christian’s kids and grandkids, of course! and the conversation is livelier and dwells less on thepast, which is just as well. Their past is splattered with litres andlitres of blood, half of it their own.

Spy is French and, I suspect, remains French in certain aspects of his life. Hence the using “litres” instead of “galleons”. Also, while the premise of TF2 is “a bunch of cheerful dumb psychos who can’t die killing each other for a paycheck” - classic video game fare, and goofy as hell - the implications are interesting. By “implications” I mean “possible PTSD” and by “interesting” I mean “fun to explore through writing/torturing characters”, naturally.

Does killing people for a living make you a murderer when said deadpeople keep coming back for more the very next day? Philippe haspondered this more often than not, these past few years. Sometimes,instead of asking himself, he asks Lawrence, because he’s the onlyone left he can ask, but Lawrence has no answer of his own.

See what I mean about the premise? Hence my taking crack seriously. It’s a reasonably good question, too - it makes you an assassin, but does it make you a murderer if you know the people you keep killing keep coming back?

(They’re not the last ones left, but it certainly feels like it.Scout’s in Boston and Miss Pauling lives in Louisiana and theyhardly see each other any more. Sometimes they Skype. Ever sincePhilippe checked into the hospital he’s refused to do anything morethan chat, though.)

TF2 is set in the 1960s/early 1970s. That means this snippet is set in the late 2000s/early 2010s. Notice how Scout and Pauling are the youngest? This is why they’re the only ones left. And the reason why Spy doesn’t want to Skype since he’s checked into the hospital is because he’s wasting away, knows he’s not coming out alive, and refuses to appear as weak/leave a bad impression of him in their memories. Or, how vanity can make you sad instead of making you want to roll your eyes. (but you do anyway.)

* * *

“You don’t have to stay, you know.”

“That’s all right, I don’t have anywhere else I need to be tillsixteen hundred.”

Sniper spends a lot of time in that hospital.

They still use military time. It reminds them of the bad old days andthe way Soldier – ironically enough – never got the hang of it.

Don’t tell me Jane Doe would understand military time :D was he even in the military in the first place? Also, this is just funny to me, because in France we use a version of that to tell the time. 1PM is “13 heures”, 8PM is “20 heures” (but midnight is “minuit”).

Philippe still uses the metric system in his head, come to think ofit.

As I said, for some things he remains 100% French.

When it comes to plunging your knife into someone’s back with theintention of causing as much damage as possible, a centimetre willalways be more precise than an inch.

…and that’s also a factor.

* * *

Philippe stays at the hospital. Lawrence stays at his side.

He brings him news of his nephews and nieces (Lizzie’s andChristian’s kids) and their children, and it’s a treat, watchinghim awkwardly sliding the photos on his phones with his huge, bonyfingers. He loves technology – has a ridiculous amount of apps onhis phone – but the emphasis on touch screens lately annoys him.

I didn’t want to go the obvious route and make old!Lawrence a grumpy curmudgeon with no technological skills. But I liked the idea of him being grumpy because his fingers are getting a little stiff with age and he prefers buttons to touch screens. My dad is the same, btw.

Philippe hasn’t touched his own phone in a couple of days. Justpicking it up seemed like too much of an effort.

* * *

“You don’t have to stay.”

Hey, notice how the last time this sentence pops up it’s just a little different? :3

“Keep that up, spook, and I’ll end up believin’ I’minterrupting something each time I come in. Is it that red-hairednurse, ya know, the one with the freckles?”

I purposely didn’t specify the gender of the nurse. That’s because 1) I like the idea of Phil being bi and 2) at the time I wasn’t 100% sure - and didn’t want to decide for the readers, Chaos in particular - whether he and Law were a couple or really close friends. That’s for you to decide. They 100% are each other’s family, though.

Lawrence’s voice is low on purpose, even as he’s gently ribbinghim. Philippe murmurs because his chest feels like a slab ofconcrete.

Or a slab of stone. Like the kind they put on people’s graves.

What can I say? I love wordplay. In this instance it’s effective.

“No.”

“Ah well. Thought he liked ya. I was all ready to get jealous andeverythin’, too.”

He’s ribbing him, of course, as Phil is a little too far gone for Lawrence to get jealous - but again, I deliberately kept the nature of their relationship vague.

Lawrence’s slight smile – the sort that says ‘Come on, playalong’ – is warm and gentle, and it makes Philippe almost not saywhat he means to say.

Almost.

Okay, truth: this was the point I knew death was imminent.

“Lawrence…”

Even whispering is an effort. Putain de cigarettes.

“Fucking cigarettes”. I usually put translations when I write in other languages but I thought this one was obvious enough.

“Yeah?”

“Could you… look away, please? For a… moment.”

There’s a French series called Lazy Company, about a handful of idiots through the Battle of Normandy; it’s three seasons of 10 episodes and while hilarious is a big case of Cerebus Syndrome and mood whiplash. In one of the last episodes, one of the main characters is shot and another character is there for them, but the dying character asks them to look away as he dies. It’s not for the same reasons at all, but it was such a powerful moment that it stayed with me a long time, and was still on my mind when I wrote this.

Lawrence says nothing, but his eyes narrow.

“It’s just… I need… intimacy.” Suddenly he’s not sureit’s the right word. He’s been speaking almost exclusivelyEnglish for over fifty or sixty years; words usually flow withoutthinking. But right now he has thrown his whole body into the laststruggle, and it’s an effort that dwarfs all others, including thesearch for vocabulary.

Do you know the worst part of being bilingual? You end up searching for words in both languages, especially when you’re tired. Incidentally, I love writing characters who speak more than one language, especially if they live in an environment where they have to speak a second language.

Lawrence still squints at him silently, as though he’s waiting foran explanation. Philippe isn’t sure he’ll hear the end.

“T—thank you. For staying. Thank you. But…”

They’ve dealt death so many times, the two of them; they’ve diedso many times, too, whether in the heat and chaos of battle or curledup on themselves, bleeding to death in a corner. They’ve never diedalone. There’s always been someone – the enemy standing overthem, allies running towards them in a last ditch attempt at rescue,their comrades’ and the Administrator’s voice in their earpieces…

Again, crack taken seriously. Usually in fiction, dying alone is about the worst fate a dying character can meet: there’s just something about facing that pain and that terrifying unknown without the comfort of a fellow human being that’s heartbreaking. But when your life used to be death, repeatedly, with someone ALWAYS watching you or listening to you… Well, I thought Phil might see dying without someone else’s eyes on him for once as going out with dignity.

And then there is the other sort of death that Philippe saw wellbefore that, the slow death of the human mind as he strugglednot to turn into a living shadow because it was just one step awayfrom the corpses the SS guards cleared off the ground as though theywere refuse.

Look, Em, I don’t know when you got the idea that Spy was a death camp survivor, but you pulled it off magnificently and when I think of TF2 it’s your version that comes to my mind first. So - Phil has seen that kind of impersonal, industrial death (mental and physical) before the violent, repeated kind of his chosen profession. I used the reminder to segue into the next idea:

Philippe has never seen death as being dignified and intimate. He’sseen way too much of it for that. But if this is to be the end, he’llbe damned if he doesn’t do this on his own terms.

And that’s what this is about. Dying with dignity, side by side with a friend who doesn’t think any less of you for not fighting one more minute and allows you the respect of not prying while staying and holding your hand.

Lawrence stares at him, waiting for the rest of the sentence. ButPhilippe is struggling for breath now, not vocabulary. So Lawrencenods slowly, takes his limp, emaciated hand in his own, big andgangly and calloused, and resolutely turns his head right, towardsthe window.

It’s not a bad sight.

I’m usually pretty uptight about third-person limited PoVs, and only switch PoVs after a dash or something else that makes it clear you’re seeing the action through the eyes of a different character. In this instance, though, I didn’t, and made the switch from Phil’s to Law’s mind just as Phil passes away.

Philippe’s hand twitches at some point. Lawrence waits a littlebefore looking down again.

Then he reaches out and slowly, gently, closes the half-open eyes.

The reason I didn’t write tears was because I thought I didn’t need to. Which also means you’re free to imagine whatever you want. Is Lawrence crying? Will he cry later, when it sinks in? Yes.

Whew, this was A Lot to revisit :D

#fic commentary #mercenaries of chaos #ask reply #TF2 #thatsoneginger

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madelainesvixens · 5 years

Text

Title: Blood Mary

Ship: Alice (Cooper) Smith + FP Jones (Falice)

_______________

''Don't do it,'' begged Hermione, trying to hid her skeptical fright.

Alice rolled her eyes. ''Don't be such pussies. It's just a legend.''

''A girl died in Greendale last night from invoking...her. It's not just some legend, Alice. It's very real,'' Sierra pointed out, glancing at Hermione for support.

An old legend had made the buzz at school, frightening students of Riverdale High: the legend of Bloody Mary. Although there was a lot of version of this legend in folklore, they all were revolving around a similar ritual. The first step was to stand in front of a mirror and call her name three times. Once the name pronounced, said Mary was set to happen in the mirror, covered in blood.

But, the best was yet to come.

Following the ritual, it was recounted that the woman in the mirror - Bloody Mary - would scratch the eyes out of whoever had invoked her, causing them to bleed out and die.

Naturally, Alice didn't believe this stupid legend. It was just some invented stories to creep people out - and it seemed to be working.

The blonde Serpent had been hiding in a bathroom stall during lunch break, smoking a cigarette when she heard Hermione and Sierra talking about Bloody Mary's legend.

''In that case, let's try it,'' Alice decided, just to spook the two girls out.

''Alice, are you serious? Please don't-''

Ignoring girls's pleas, a grin spread on the blonde's lips as she stared into the mirror, pronouncing the name of the one -who-shall-not-be-named. ''Bloody Mary.''

Sierra sucked in a sharp breath as Alice said the woman's name.

Bringing her hand over her own mouth, Hermione gasped, shocked. ''The curse is going to fall on you and you're going to...die.''

A part of Alice was surprised that Hermione got trapped into believing this absurd legend. She came from a very religious family and figured she'd know better than this. What would her parents think if they knew that their daughter believed in such nonsense.

Sierra, on the other hand, was not surprising. She was known to believe all sorts of gossips.

''Die?'' Alice huffed out an humored laugh, glancing at the raven haired girl with the plaid skirt through the mirror's reflection. ''Don't be so dramatic, Hermione.''

''I'm not. I'm being serious!'' she insisted.

''Bloody Mary,'' Alice said for the second time, just as the lights flickered in the bathroom.

Sierra gulped, suddenly feeling nauseous. She glanced at Hermione who was looking just as frightened as her. ''Come on, Alice. This isn't funny...''

Just one more time and the invocation will be through. Just one more time and Bloody Mary will appear in the mirror and-

''Bloody Mary.''

A vacant silence filled the bathroom. Hermione and Sierra went completely still, holding their breath as Alice stared expectantly in the mirror.

Nothing.

''I don't understand what you're so afraid of. This is just some stupid legend, see?'' Alice nodded at the mirror, seeing only their reflection. ''No one appeared in the mirror and my eyes aren't busted out.''

Later that day, everyone had gathered at the Andrews's for a couple drinks before the big Halloween party at Marty's.

''No way! I didn't think you'd go through,'' Fred said just as Alice and FP entered the basement, dressed as Bonnie and Clyde, America's famous criminal couple who were known for bank robberies together during the 30s.

Although their costumes were a drastic contrast to their usual style, it was perfectly fitting for their personality and couple aesthetic as they were each other's ride of die.

FP exchanged a shoulder hug with Fred, snickering at his attempt at Danny Zuko. He might've got the hair down, but those tight pants were a laugh.

''You clean up well in a suit, Pendleton,'' Hermione pointed out from her spot on the couch, taking a sip of her mixed drink.

Instead of thanking her, FP retorted a question. ''And, you're dressed as..?''

''Rizzo, of course. You didn't recognize the jacket?'' She smoothed down her pencil skirt, glancing at him in a flirty way, as if he wasn't already taken. Classic Hermione Gomez.

FP rolled his eyes. Right. The bright Pink Ladies jacket and neck scarf were massive hints at Grease's Rizzo. She even had pulled her hair into a sort of updo, giving the illusion of a short hairstyle.

Stepping in, Alice broke the interaction and gave FP a beer. ''Here.''

He thanked her with a kiss and led her to the armchair, sitting down first and making enough room for Alice who followed and laid her legs over FP's lap, keeping a close hand on her thigh.

''Who's going to come tonight? Else than the Bulldogs?'' Hermione asked, plucking a stray thread from her skirt.

Before anyone could answer, Alice spoke up.

''That Gladys bitch better not show her face tonight or I'll-'' she warned with gritted teeth, taking a sip from her beer.

''How can you talk about people like that?'' Fred interrupted, shaking his head.

''She gave me a shiner at the last party, in case you don't remember.''

''And you think hitting her back is gonna solve things?''

The blonde nodded. ''Revenge is a bitch and, too bad for her, Alice Smith has good memory.''

Behind her, FP grinned and kissed her exposed neck. ''That's my girl.''

Fred shook his head in discouragement. ''God, you two are really made for each other...'' he concluded, glancing between her and his best friend.

The basement door opened, followed by a clicking of heels resonating as Sierra made her way down in her Scary Spice costume.

Hermione stood, going to greet her friend. ''Wow, girl, you nailed it!'' she commented, looking her up and down, smiling at Sierra's camo pants and matching bra top.

''It's cold out though... The jacket ruins the look.'' She motioned to the colorblock parka on her arm. ''When do we show up at Marty's?'' Sierra asked to the group, taking the wooden chair while Hermione went to sit back down beside Fred.

They weren't dating, but it was clear that the raven haired girl was falling for the baseball player - especially with their semi-matching costume. It was as if they were subtly telling other people to back off, they're already taken. If Fred had dressed up as Kenickie, it would've been perfect.

Standing up, Alice went to use the bathroom, leaving the quatuor to themselves.

Taking advantage of the blonde's absence, Sierra decided to open her mouth and blab to the boys about her. ''Boys. Do you know what Alice did today at lunch?''

Fred gave her a curious look while FP seemed half interested. Whatever Miss. Gossips was going to tell them, there wasn't much that could surprise of shock him.

''We were in the school's bathroom and...'' Sierra glanced at Hermione, biting her bottom lip anxiously. ''She summoned Bloody Mary.''

''What? You mean, like the legend going on at school?''

Sierra nodded.

''Didn't someone die in Greendale from doing this?'' Fred asked.

''And, did you see her in the mirror?'' FP asked, cocky smile on his lips.

Sierra straightened up before responding. ''No, but I heard that you don't always see her right away. Once you summon her, she can appear at any time.''

''That's just some old superstitions, right, FP?'' Fred asked his best friend, suddenly skeptical.

FP shrugged. ''I don't know, man. I'm not into this stuff...''

The lights in Fred's basement flickered, followed by a piercing scream echoing from the bathroom, causing Sierra and Hermione to scream too.

''Alice?'' FP called out, raising an eyebrow. ''Everything okay?''

Another scream.

This time, they all scrambled up from their seats and rushed to the bathroom.

''Help! She's gonna get me,'' Alice screamed from the bathroom.

FP juggled the door, trying to open it and failing. ''Alice? Alice, open the door,'' he demanded, his voice frantic and panicked.

''Do something!'' Hermione begged FP and Fred. ''You must have a toothpick or something to pick the lock. S-she's gonna kill her-''

Alice's terrified scream cut off Hermione's sentence, followed by a vacant silence.

''Ali?''

Nodding, Fred went to find something to pick the lock, leaving the girls with FP by the door. No one had ever been locked out of the basement bathroom so Fred - nor his dad - never had to pick the lock. Fred's could barely think properly as he searched, his mind crowded by the adrenaline in his veins from the possibility of his friend being dead behind this very door.

''Alice?'' Sierra called, her voice shaky.

Hermione's eyes filled with water behind her glasses, realizing what might've happened to Alice. ''I-is she-''

Just then, the bathroom door opened and Alice came out, a huge grin on her face. She gave FP a high-five, confusing everyone.

''You idiots really thought it was true? That Bloody Mary had attacked me in the bathroom?'' Alice laughed mischievously, shaking her head.

Sierra narrowed her eyes at Alice. ''Have you lost your mind? You can't do stuff like that!''

A sigh of relief wash through Fred, realizing that it was a prank. A very bad prank, if you ask him.

''This is called revenge, Sierra. Next time you see a used condom the girls's bathroom, don't blindly accuse me.'' Alice turned to Hermione. ''I know it was you who spread the rumor, Hermione. You're no better.''

Hermione gaped, giving Alice a scandalized look. ''So, it was all a prank?''

Later, when Alice and FP made it back to Alice's trailer - slightly inebriated -, the two were still amused by they little prank. They'll admit, maybe it had gone a bit too far - they didn't mean to implicate or scare Fred, but he was there -, but it was a damn good prank.

''You should've seen their faces,'' FP told her with a grin, shaking his head and tossing his bowtie, hating that damn thing. It was so uncomfortable, how can people wear that? ''Hermione really thought Bloody Mary had killed you.''

Alice threw her head back, laughing as she untucked her yellow sweater, slipping it over her head, removing the last bit of her costume. ''I should've covered myself in syrup and let them think Bloody Mary had killed me.''

Cert, syrup could've given a more gruesome turn to the prank, but it would've made a huge mess - and Fred would've probably fainted from the 'blood'. He had already been caught in the middle of this prank by admission, there was no need to scar him with an image of a 'lifeless' Alice covered in blood on his bathroom floor.

''Poor Fred would've had an aneurysm. He was so panicked, frantically searching for something to open the door and..save you.'' He sighed, thinking back. ''Man, I feel bad for him.''

Alice came behind him as he finished undressing, kissing his shoulder blade as she snaked her arms around his middle, pressing herself against his back. ''He'll survive.''

Rolling his eyes, FP turned around in his girlfriend's hold. ''I know...''

''It was Sierra and Hermione's fault in the first place,'' the blonde justified. ''If they hadn't spread that nasty rumor about me, I wouldn't have had to scare them with this prank and Fred wouldn't have been put through this.'' She pressed her forehead to FP's, about to kiss him. ''Now they know not to mess with me and spread nasty rumors.''

FP's hands slid on the sides of her body, fingertips brushing against the lace of her underwear, causing goosebumps to form on her skin at his touch. Was this what Danny was talking about when he said Sandy's presence was electrifying?

A crackling noise filled the silence of the trailer, some branch scraping against the window as Alice closed the gap between their mouth, sliding her tongue past his parted lips.

A gasp left FP's lips, Alice's slender hands slipping to the front of his boxer and breaking the kiss. She smiled wickedly, plump lips brushing over his as she spoke. ''Even if it was ours.''

''They don't have to know that,'' FP said with a smug grin, grabbing the blonde by the back of her thighs and bringing her over to the bed, taking advantage of Alice's parents being out of town.

#falice #riverdaleevents #spooky #seasonal celebration #fp jones #Alice Cooper #Alice Smith #riverdale prompts #falice prompts #fp jones x alice cooper

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alj4890 · 5 years

Text

Angst/Love Prompt

(Thomas x Amanda) with a request from @krsnlove to write out my final idea for An alternate version of I Was On My Way angst short.

(Thomas Hunt x oc*Amanda) I refuse to let this angst storyline become a part of my AU's.

A/N Okay. Can the angst stop? Please?!? This is my third and final alternate version of I Was On My Way. I mean it. No more. My heart and eyes have worked overtime crying. Especially over alternate version 2. We might pretend that one doesn't exist. Anyway...Like Choices you can choose any of these three endings you want for the initial Say Goodbye short. I think though that this version will be the one picked.

Part 1: Say Goodbye

Part 2 I Was On My Way

Part 2 alternate She’s Gone

Song: Clarity

Masterlist

@lxaah11 @alleksa16 @penguininapinktuxedo @blackcoffee85 @stopforamoment @krsnlove @cora-nova @bella-ca @hopelessromantic1352 . @sunflowergirl05 @desiree-0816 @greywitchyshots @lilyofchoices @emceesynonymroll @dr-nancy-house @aworldoffandoms @pixieferry @lolablackwrites @i-bloody-love-drake-walker

Remedy (3rd and final alternate ending for Say Goodbye)

Thomas clutched the tumbler filled with whatever alcohol he had in this particular decanter. He had forgotten what it was once he had finished the previous one. He took a gulp and welcomed the burn that began to numb his heart. His thoughts though, nothing was touching them. His only hope was that it would keep the dreams at bay.

He stared at the massive television screen and watched Amanda walk down the aisle toward Liam. He hated that he knew every glance, twitch of her lips, and facial expression. Knowing these only made his shattered heart break even more. She was not a happy bride.

Yes, she was smiling. Her unshed tears were typical of any woman on her wedding day. Her elegant silk gown draped over her figure perfectly. The slight tremble of her hands as she clutched the bouquet of red roses and white star lilies was normal with the cathedral filled with representatives from around the world.

He knew the truth though. She was devastated. He shouldn't have made the visit to Cordonia a year ago. Seeing her again...feeling her lips under his...hearing her voice say his name...it had hurt them both more than if he had remained away. Telling her he loved her...had it hurt her more than if he had kept it secret? Would he have admitted it if he had known beforehand that she was promised to Liam?

He took another sip as she took Liam's hand. Thomas watched them kneel as the archbishop expressed what a joyous occasion it was that brought these two individuals together. The couple at the altar stared straight ahead, each absorbed with thoughts of wishing the other was someone else, someone they truly loved with their entire heart.

He sneered at the hypocrisy. Their promises to love and cherish each other were spoken while avoiding eye contact. It was killing him to see the woman he loved be tied for eternity to a man that didn't love her nowhere near as he did. Liam couldn't begin to comprehend the depth of love Thomas held for her.

His guilt gnawed at his insides as he realized that it was his decision to break up with her that had set off the chain of events. It had ended in this wedding ceremony that should not have even been considered. He was sorry Liam had been denied the love of his life, but that didn't mean Amanda should be forced in a loveless marriage because of it.

Thomas set his glass down and noticed his phone vibrating. He didn't want to pick it up. He didn't know why he had set it up to be notified on any Cordonian news. He never intended to go back there, but a part of him couldn't let go of a way to see how Amanda was doing as Queen of Cordonia.

He ran a hand over his face as he started the wedding over yet again. Thomas had canceled this week's shooting schedule, knowing he needed time alone. Time to wallow in misery. It was Liam and Amanda's one year wedding anniversary. According to the press, the people of Cordonia were anxiously awaiting news of a possible pregnancy.

The royal couple had been seen traveling more so than usual these last two months which caused speculation that they were having another honeymoon for...he grimaced and downed the contents in his glass. The very image of her and Liam together in that fashion turned his stomach. He couldn't stand the thought of the king kissing her much less touching her body the way he once had.

Thomas knew he should turn the notifications off once and for all. He didn't want to see Liam telling everyone that Amanda was pregnant. That had to be what the big press conference was about. He had received the notifications this morning about Liam's sudden State of the Kingdom address. He was most likely going to announce the joyous event.

A baby. No matter what happened, a baby would keep her permanently tied to Liam, to Cordonia. Every last shred of ridiculous hope Thomas possessed turned to ash. There was nothing left but his tormented memories of when she was his, the televised wedding, and the knowledge that it was his fault.

He staggered to the kitchen to find something else to drink and paused when he heard his phone vibrate continuously.

Thomas clutched his head and slid down the wall. "I can't do it." He muttered into the darkness, cursing his own cowardice. "I can't look at it."

He closed his eyes, wishing he could take it all back. He imagined what he would do differently. Telling Amanda how much he loved her topped that fantasy. Thomas would get down on his knees to ask her to be his forever. He would tell her that he would move to Cordonia. Move wherever she wanted to live. He just wanted, needed, to be with her.

He leaned his head back against the wall as he pleaded silently for release from this hellish prison he had created for himself. His ghostlike existence was destroying him. The images of what he once had haunted him continuously.

He felt a brush of air and heard the soft sound of steps cautiously approaching. He didn't want Holly or Addison to try and cheer him up again. They had known about the anniversary and had argued against him withdrawing from those that cared about him during this time. He decided to ignore their prescence. They had learned to give him a wide berth if he was silent.

He grit his teeth when he felt someone quietly sit down beside him on the floor. He didn't want comfort. He didn't want anything but numbness and to be left alone. He ran his hands through his hair and bent his head forward.

He felt the gentle touch of a hand rubbing his back. He flinched and jerked his head up. He scooted away from what had to be the results of his mind finally snapping.

Amanda's concerned eyes flickered over his haggard appearance. A day's growth of stubble covered his jaw. Dark smudges were under his sleep deprived eyes. His hair was mussed and his clothes were wrinkled.

She started to reach out toward him but paused in uncertainty. "I'm sorry." She said in a soft tone. "I tried calling a little while ago. I shouldn't have come unannounnced, but I needed to see you." Her eyes filled with tears when he simply stared at her. "I...you said you loved me and I know it was long ago..."

She swallowed against the lump in her throat as she began to cry. "I knew there was a chance you moved on, but I had to come tell you. We cleared Riley's name. Liam, myself, and the others finally convinced Tariq to come forward. I'm free. My marriage has been quickly annulled. Liam and Riley are planning on marrying within the next couple of days."

She took a deep breath and tried to calm down. "I had to tell you, in case there was a chance you... Oh Thomas, I love you. I've missed being able to--"

She buried her face against his neck when he yanked her into his arms. Her body was wracked with sobs as she clutched him close to her. Thomas closed his eyes and prayed this was real. He pressed his lips to her head, causing her to cry harder. He rubbed her back and tried to soothe her.

He cradled her face between his hands. His lips brushed her damp cheeks before landing on her mouth.

Amanda wrapped her arms around his neck, returning his kiss with all the pent up passion she had held for him. Thomas broke away for a moment and stood up. He kept her hand in a tight grip, afraid she would disappear. He turned the lamp on to see her properly...see that she was real.

She wiped her cheeks with her free hand while she looked at him. He took a shaky breath before pulling her into a hug. "You're here to stay?" He asked.

She nodded. "If you still want me." She lowered her eyes in embarrassment. "I can go to a hotel or leave the city if you don't want me here. You shouldn't be made to feel obligated to--"

"I love you." He interrupted. "So much. I tried to stop, but I can't. " His hands moved along her shoulders and back, unsure how to touch her, but needing to. "I need to be with you. I need forever with you."

Her face crumbled with tears. He felt panic set in that he had said something to drive her away. She moved into his embrace and tried to explain how much she had hoped for this while he held her tight.

"I wanted to call you so many times and tell you that Liam and I were still trying to make things right for everyone. Yet, he was so frightened of it getting out and spooking Tariq further away." She met his steady gaze and sighed. "Knowing there was a chance I could one day be with you, have happiness again...it kept me going whenever a roadblock popped up."

"No one else could bring me the type of happiness you have." He ran his fingers through her hair as his other hand urged her even closer to him. "I've been miserable without you."

She glanced at the tv and her eyes widened at what was paused on the screen. "Is that my--why are you watching this?"

Thomas grabbed the remote and turned it off. He didn't know how to answer her. How did he explain that it was both a penance and a blessing? He was able to see her. Hear her voice. Imagine it ending differently. Then it revealed his greatest mistake that cost him everything.

She saw the torment on his face and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. She nudged his head on her shoulder, gently smoothing his hair in a slow, repetitive fashion. His muscles relaxed at her touch. He placed his arms around her waist, closing his eyes when she kissed his forehead.

"Don't leave." He choked out. "Don't leave me again."

She pressed her lips against his head. "I won't. I promise."

Her tender touch and warmth caused his body to succumb to the exhaustion he had been fighting.

Amanda was able to scoot down on the couch beside him and smiled when he tightened his arms around her. Her hair was caught under his head and he was snoring in her ear. Her joy at being back in his arms made her thankful that she couldn't turn over or get comfortable. She was where she had wished to be every moment of the past year.

The next day, she sat up with a start. Thomas was gone. She looked around and relaxed when she realized she was in his house and not in her lonely bedroom in the palace. Her lips curved at the blanket that had been tucked around her. She could hear water running upstairs and decided to check her appearance.

She stepped into his hall bathroom and grimaced. Her eyes were swollen with eye makeup smeared from her tears. She searched for a rag and began to scrub her face. She bent over the sink to splash water over it when she felt someone come up behind her. She quickly wiped her face and looked in the mirror.

Thomas had showered and shaved. He pulled her back against his chest and placed his lips on her neck. She bit her lip, thinking how ugly she looked right now, before he turned her head to meet his lips. She slowly ran her hand along his smooth jaw before slipping it into his damp hair.

He lifted his head for a moment and looked into her eyes. "Marry me." He said softly. He pressed a lingering kiss to her cheek. "Please." He pleaded in a hoarse whisper while tracing the shell of her ear with his lips.

She nodded, afraid she would start crying again if she spoke. He smiled at her before his lips landed on hers in a sudden burst of passion. He guided her out of the bathroom without letting her go. She laughed against his lips when they bumped into the back of the couch. He glanced at the stairs and reluctantly released her.

"I should go." She said.

His eyes widened. "What? Why?"

She wrapped her arms around him. "So I can change my clothes and try to not be so hideous looking." She kissed his neck and breathed in his aftershave. "I left my bags at a hotel in case you weren't here or didn't want me to stay."

Thomas lifted her face. His thumbs brushed over her soft skin. He shook his head. "I will always want you with me."

Amanda grinned and kissed him again. "I won't be long."

He pulled her back into his arms. "Don't go." He rested his forehead against hers. "Borrow some of my clothes and stay here. I can find someone to pick your bags up for you and bring them here." He ran his hands up and down her arms. "Stay with me. Please."

"Why do you make it so impossible to leave?" She muttered kissing him.

He smiled at her before pulling her upstairs. He found an old t-shirt that had been a favorite of hers to steal along with some pajama pants. She set the clothes down and started his shower. He leaned against the counter, watching her remember where he kept everything. She paused and held up a bottle in surprise.

"You still have my shampoo?" She blushed as she realized that this might be another woman's.

Thomas took the bottle and opened it up. He sniffed the coconut aroma and set it in the shower for her. "I love that smell because it reminds me of you."

"So it's not--never mind. It isn't any of my business." She went to his closet for a washcloth and towel.

Thomas stopped her. "I haven't been with anyone since you."

Her lips parted in surprise. "Neither have I."

Now it was his turn to stare in surprise. "You and Liam didn't..." Did he really want to know that answer?

"Never." She stated emphatically. "We viewed our marriage as a means of extra time to spend on fixing what Liam's father had broken. Liam is my best friend. He listened to me and encouraged me about you and I did the same for him when he talked about Riley. That is the only kind of love we had."

Thomas shook his head in wonder while pulling her close. "I keep waiting to wake up and discover this is nothing but a dream."

Amanda rested her head against his shoulder. "Stop trying. I don't want to wake up back in Cordonia." She sighed into his kiss before playfully pushing him out. "Let me try and look a little better."

He smiled and asked her where her bags were. After taking down the information, he left her to make the necessary calls. While making some coffee and trying to find something edible for breakfast, he watched Liam's speech.

He had never seen Liam so happy, so at peace, as he held Riley's hand and explained everything. He thanked Amanda for her being his partner in helping him obtain his true happiness. His smile turned tender as he told the press that she had left to check on her own happy ending and that he hoped it wasn't too late.

"Lady Amanda will have my eternal gratitude for sacrificing so much to help me in what seemed an impossible situation. Her steadfastness and unwavering optimism is what kept my hope alive." Liam explained.

Thomas braced his hands on the counter with the realization that all was turning out like he wanted. He had made it through a year of hopelessness. His love was here in his very home. Upstairs. Back in his life for good.

He looked down at her arms that came around him. He turned and smiled at seeing her in his clothes. She brushed her damp hair back behind her ear and laughed at her appearance. He told her she never looked lovelier than she did in his kitchen, in his clothes. He leaned down and kissed her when she said his name.

There lips met again and again as they pressed against each other. Thomas leaned down and picked her up. Ignoring her squeals of protest to be put down, he managed to carry her upstairs and put her down carefully in his bed. He stretched out next to her and began to show her how much he had missed her, how grateful he was to have her back.

Tears came to her eyes with every tender, reverent touch. He continually told her she would never understand how much he loved her as he pressed his lips to every part of her body. His eyes met hers as he reached that bliss filled moment of hearing his name in her breathless voice.

She closed her eyes and rested her head on his chest in the aftermath, his steady heartbeat lulling her in a light sleep. Thomas continued to run his fingers along her skin in slow caresses. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head when she made a contented sound.

She turned her head to look at him. "Thank you for letting me stay here with you." She said softly. “I have needed to be near you.”

He paused in his caress and stared into her eyes. "You have to stay. I can't live without my heart."

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