#i started playing dnd young enough that it was never part of my though process

[calenhads]

i need rhys to fuck nasty pronto

[horrorstolemyheart]

Cliché

Notes: CLICHE AS FUCK! Hence the title. But I guess that's ok sometimes, definitely has a run of the mill person A and person B like each other but they both never act on it, Yada Yada yada... I know. But I'm in the process of dragging myself out of writers block. Also I hope this isn’t as bad as I think, a mixture of my first time writing for this character, and the fact that I’ve tweaked and re-read this fic so much that I’m starting to hate it a little. And this is the first thing I've written in a while. But I hope that it isn’t too messy lol.

Warnings: Cursing

Pairing(s): Eddie Munson x reader

Every damn time.

His heart skipped a beat when you joined the group of boys at lunch. The smile upon your lips made his face turn a shade of pink, not unnoticed by Jeff and Gareth. He felt a kick to the ankle from under the table and scowled. They were just two of the people who’d been trying to get him to ask you out for ages.

You were funny, smart, and one of the few people who didn’t think he was a freak. Eddie was head over heels.

“Gentlemen.” You greeted with a small bow.

He grinned, “Y/N.”

“Eddie” you always gave him a separate acknowledgement. Unknown to him, your heart also skipped that one beat upon seeing him. It was anything but subtle. Both completely entranced with the other and yet so oblivious to it.

All your friends knew that you and Eddie were smitten from the start. Gareth and Jeff poked fun at the Dungeon Master and he'd scrunch up his face, refusing the onslaught of teases. He wasn't even safe from the freshmen. Dustin, Mike, and Lucas had even had their fun with their fellow Hellfire Club member. You, on the other hand, had Steve and Robin to deal with at work. Both of whom were savvy to your crush on Eddie.

God, it was cliché. Which is probably why you ignored the feelings of attraction, it was a dumb high school crush. You were a senior and this would probably be the year he would graduate as well and then what? You'd both walk across the stage, accept your diplomas, and then maybe see each other a few times after graduation. So you made a promise you’d keep those feelings hidden. The fact that you even got to be friends with the guy was enough for you. Or that’s what you told yourself.

Most lunch periods you brought your sketchbook along. You'd been friends with Johnathan Byers which initially drew the four, now three, younger DnD players to you. And you were happy to turn their imagined scenes into a reality. Nowadays though, it was usually Dustin asking for sketches.

“Y/N! Ok, ok, so I have another request,” Dustin quipped as you pulled your sketchbook out.

“Yes, great artificer.”

Oh, and you were an incredible artist. Another reason the metal head was in love with you. You did wonders in bringing the scenes described to life. You may not have played the game, but as Dungeon Master, he had declared you an honorary Hellfire Club member. His explanation was that seeing the game played may spark some inspiration, obviously this was only part of the reason.

Lunch had flown by quickly. Students began packing up their stuff just before the bell rang, signaling everyone back to their classes. Back to the droning of teachers' lectures and scanning through textbooks.

Dustin glanced over your shoulder at his drawing in progress, which you covered up.

“Ah, ah! Patience is a virtue young man,” you smirk, “I’ll have it to you in a day or two.”

“Alright, alright. I can’t wait, I know it’s gonna be awesome! See ya later , Y/N!” With that the boy ran to catch up with Mike.

You began to place your sketchbook back into your bag, and double checked you had all your effects in order. The seat opposite you creaked as Eddie sat down gently. It was clear he wanted something.

“Alright, spit it out," you inquire, letting out a snicker, "I can tell you wanna say something, you’re terrible at hiding it.”

“I just… wanted to say that I think you’re an amazing artist." Eddie pressed his lips into a thin line.

“Um, thank you. I’m not that good, but that means a lot Eddie,” You turn to face him square on, “But let’s cut the bullshit. What do you want?”

“Bullshit? No, I mean it, Y/N, every word!" anxiously, he fiddles with his rings, "Sooo… I was just wondering…”

You nod for him to go on.

“Well. um, would you possibly… I dunno,” he pauses and a blush begins to grow on his face, “If you would possibly design a tattoo for me?”

It takes a moment to set in, and you have to admit you’re a bit shocked, “R-really?”

Studying his face it was easy to tell the shaggy-haired boy was being serious. Eddie was, afterall, a man of his word. With that you decided to push the envelope a bit. After a moment you stood up as if to leave, catching Eddie off guard. Draping your bag over your shoulder, you tap your chin in mock contemplation over the request.

“Hm, I don’t know. It’ll cost you…” Eddie stood up as well, desperate to hear what you had in mind.

“What? Dustin doesn't have to pay, but I do?”

"No, no. I'm not asking for money. I’ll design you a tattoo," drawing out a pause for effect, all your promises to yourself flew out the window.

"If you take me on a date.”

Those words had spilled out before they could be stopped. Fuck. Desperately you tried to save yourself from further humiliation.

"Shit. Uh, y-you know, that was a joke right? I just, uh… I wanted to...” The act was over before it had begun. How could you be so stupid? The thudding of your heart could be heard in your ears.

Eddie’s eyes widened, "Wait... you really want me to take you on a date?"

"Eddie, please don't fuck with me. Look, just forget it, ok? I don't need anything in return for a drawing." the only thing on your mind was salvaging a possibly ruined friendship.

His face was sympathetic, "Sounded like a win-win situation, if I’m being honest. But, I'd love to take you out, Y/N. I just… never knew if you’d want to go out with me.” It was clear he was just as nervous to admit his feelings as you’d been.

"God, you don’t know how relieved I am. I’ve wanted to go out with you since we met! But it just felt so cliche. I figured it'd probably turn out as one of those situations where you didn't reciprocate and then I would have ruined our friendship and–"

"Y/N. You talk too much."

Eddie’s gaze shifted between you and the exit door. Grabbing your hand, he yanked you along with him.

“C’mon.”

"Eddie, where the hell are you taking me?"

"Uh, on a date?"

"You're gonna skip school to take me out? I thought you wanted to graduate this year?"

"I've been a good boy. I've been coming to school, one day won't stop me."

"Plus," he turns to face you, eyes gleaming, "You are much more important."

You give in, “Mm… fine.”

"Just remember you owe me some new ink for this date, and for making me ditch school,"

This earned him a smack on the arm with the hand currently not being held.

"Oh, haha! More like making me ditch school!" You both try to suppress the giggles as you rush out the exit doors. And all it took was him asking for a drawing. Your friends were not going to let either of you live this down.

[rosebloodcat]

Toonkind Storyline Idea

Not too long ago, I got an interesting idea for a DnD storyline thanks to some interesting spells I found in the Player’s Handbook. I’ve also been listening to the Toonkind DnD recordings as well. So, as one would expect, the two have been slowly melding together into (what I think) is a fun/interesting story that could be played.

The only awkward thing about it is that I’m not actually in the Toonkind Discord (I’ve got my eye out for the next invite link and I’m praying I’ll be online and aware enough to join in then), so I can’t really share the idea and see if anyone would be up for it. This awkwardness is only increased by the fact that a character I want to see/use for it is one that isn’t mine.

Because of that, this idea has just been festering in the back of my head for several days now and I just- Need to talk about it now.

Like, the fear of possible embarrassment is being replaced by the pure need to talk about this. It’ll probably just sit in my posts/notes forever and not get used, but I want to have it down and out there. (Keeping hopes/expectations low on that front.) I mean, what are the chances that, even if I At’d the players here on Tumblr, they would actually read through the idea? Or want to talk with me about it? Pretty low as far as I can tell.

So honestly, there’s nothing actually stopping me from just rambling into the aether about this. Might as well go for it.

Anyways, let’s get into the meat of this.

I’ll start off by telling people that I had been curious about spells to revive/bring back the dead because I was curious about how many there actually were. 

Unsurprisingly, I found four spells that involved reviving/bringing back the dead.

Surprisingly, though, only three of those spells were necromancy spells! (Revivify, Resurrection, and True Resurrection.)

The Fourth spell was called Reincarnate and was a transmutation spell used/learnable by Druids. (If you’re curious about it, you can check out the exact details here! https://www.dndbeyond.com/spells/reincarnate )

A quick summary of it goes like this: If someone has been dead for less than 10 days, you can touch them (or a piece of them) and create a new body for that person and call their soul to it. The spell causes their race/subrace to change, and the new one can be decided by the DM or via Dice Roll. All their abilities and memories stay the same, but their racial stats/abilities are exchanged for ones matching their new race/subrace.

And I thought, “What if this spell (or a variant of it) was used on a character that died in one of the Toonkind games?”

(Also, I realize I should mention this before continuing, Spoiler Warning for anyone who’s never listened to the Taffy Train Saga and the Coup De Blues games? This involves characters from those.)

I can’t think of too many toonkind characters who are actually Dead-Dead, but I do have one that I have a little bit of a soft spot for. One who was killed in the very same game he was introduced in.

Victor Tim, the (very dead) accountant for Dodo Studios.

(Who has been played by both @modmad and @snailcomicz and I’m not sure which of them he actually belongs to, so I guess he just goes to both for now. I know he was presented as a tool/not very liked character, but I just found him weirdly charming. I can’t explain it if I tried.)

Thus, the seed of an idea was planted in my brain.

What if Victor Tim was brought back from the dead by someone using a variation of this spell? Either as someone experimenting with magic or something. Heck, it could even be done with a machine instead of a spellcaster. (I’m not opposed to the “Illegal or at least Unethical Science” route for a villain. Seeing if they can expand the limit for how soon the spell can be used.)

I mean, considering the chaos brought by Dora Z Scale after the Taffy Train, would it really be so crazy to say that someone took advantage of it?

Someone could have noticed Dora robbing graveyards, seeing that the reports on it were few and far between, and decided to piggyback off her and snatch up remains in her wake. Get some free test subjects that didn’t need to sign waivers whilst everyone was focused on the Engineer and later Dora drama in the papers. Of course, they could have also been a bit more careful and waited until after Dora was captured/arrested before starting their experiments. To give more time for people to forget about them (if they had been spotted during that time) and let their focus be taken up by the former actress instead.

And it probably took a while before they got around to Vic, likely from how little they had of him due to Dora drinking a large portion of him. The Perp probably took their time refining their materials/process since they didn’t want to lose what little they had of him.

All things considered, the extra grave robber probably wasn’t noticed for a long time thanks to the sorting that needed to be done with Dora’s undead army. After figuring out who came from where and sending them back to their proper graves, I’m sure the police were very surprised to find that there were still a number of graves that remained empty.

That lovely little problem was probably kept buried to prevent the public from panicking/getting the police in even more trouble. Especially if The Engineer or Mrs. Tim found out that Vic’s remains were among those missing.

(Not to mention the field day the press would have about it. Like that one, very intrepid young reporter. The one with the dog, you know who.)

I’d say that Vic, when brought back, is still a toonkind but probably a different subrace. (Maybe a Frankenalie? Or a Warne? Unless Mod or Snail see this and think of something that would be more fun/interesting.)

He also probably has no idea what’s going on. Just that he’s pretty sure he’s supposed to be dead but somehow he’s not and he’s stuck somewhere he doesn’t recognize and are both his eyes facing forward? And “Oh no this is bad. I’m pretty sure there is a bad thing happening and I’m alone with no help, oh no, oh no, oh no.”

Because definitely not-okay, illegal/unethical experiments tend to mean the “Subjects” are basically captives/prisoners of the person responsible and need to either be rescued or find a way to escape.

Both routes could go in fun/interesting directions.

Cause, on one hand, there’s the possibility of getting the info out and having Engie pulling/being part of a rescue mission, or at least someone from the studio/Taffy Train may want to check it out. (I mean, who fakes being a dead guy? That’s weird enough that someone would want to look into it.)

On the other hand, there’s also the fun of Vic managing to bust out with the help of other victims in the same situation. Which could actually be a cool set of stories/games to be played. (I’d- I’d actually love to make a character to play that out if I’m being completely honest here. I may have one slowly being drafted out in my head as I type this.)

There’s also the potential hitch of Vic having to try and convince people/prove that he really is Victor Tim, the guy who was murdered by Dora Z Scale. Or that Vic’s note/message really was from him. Even more so if Vic’s talking to people who actually knew him before. (Powerful potential Angst and feels right there if they don’t believe him. Or it could be really funny, depending on how it’s played.)

There are also some fun shenanigans that could happen too. Mostly from Vic trying to figure out how his new race/abilities work. Like (if he was a warne)  accidentally using Expeditious Retreat and yeeting himself into a wall. Or (if he was a frankenalie) getting into a heated argument with an animal via Speak With Animals but not knowing it.

(“Uh, Vic?” “Wha- Oh! Sorry,  I was caught up talking with this guy-” “Vic, you’re talking to a dog.” “...Oh. Suddenly this makes a lot more sense.”)

But- yeah. That’s my idea for a potential storyline for Toonkind DnD, Victor Tim brought back from the dead but not as a Yupyaen and all the possible chaos that could entail. 

Honestly, I have more thoughts on the story, but it’s one of those things that would probably go better if I was able to talk with others about it.

This will probably sit in my posts for who knows how long and never actually get used/played, but I have said my piece now. Who knows, maybe I’ll use the initial idea in something and just remove Vic from the equation.

(... It would be cool if I actually got to use/play this in Toonkind though.)

[pocketmouse18]

Thank you so much to @herosofmarvelanddc @cloudypaws and @mtab2260 for the tag! This was so much fun to think about :)

(fair warning, I wrote too much for many of these...)

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

Just 2 :)

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

450,577 if I did my math right!

3. How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

Officially? Just 1 - Agents of Shield (two, I guess, if you count MCU as separate, since I use characters from both...). Off the record, many more than that! I have lots of bits and bobs from other fandoms that I tinkered with when I was younger, still getting the hang of writing, not brave enough to post things, etc. etc. Some of those include X-Men, Harry Potter, Percy Jackson, the Fosters, Star Wars, the Hunger Games, the 39 Clues, and a few others I can’t remember. None of those will likely see the light of day, mostly because they’re unfinished, not very good, and just not reflective of who I am as a writer anymore, but they were fun to play around with at the time :)

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

I just have the two, but The Important Thing is to Try wins, hands down, with 1227. Shoulder to Shoulder has 95, though, which I’m also very proud of! Important Thing has a definite advantage, being as long as it is, so I don’t know if that’s really a fair comparison between them.

5. Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

Yes! Or at least, I always try to! I just can’t believe someone would be kind enough to take the time to tell me what they thought of my story, so I always want to take the time to thank them and return the favor :) Plus, as I’ve learned, it’s a fantastic way to get to know some really lovely people!

6. What's the fic you've written with the angstiest ending?

Well... I technically only have one story that has an ending, at least on Ao3, and it’s not an especially angsty one, since it ends in Phil and Melinda getting married :) I have some angsty chapter endings in Important Thing, if that counts? I’m not even sure if any of my unpublished fiddlings have angsty endings (most don’t have endings at all lol)... I don’t mind writing angst, but I don’t know if I’m capable of making something without a happy (or at least hopeful) ending.

7. Do you write crossovers? If so, what is the craziest one you've ever written?

Not really, unless you count AoS/MCU crossovers (which I guess technically count, but also I would argue it’s not a true crossover since (and I will die on this hill) AoS is a part of MCU canon). When I was younger I was a fan of playing around with crossover AUs more so than the actual characters crossing paths (so like, what if these characters from XYZ were demigods or went to Hogwarts or what have you, and not so much what would happen if the X-Men met Luke, Leia, and Han on one of their space adventures). I started writing a crossover between AoS and the Marvel Rising cartoon once (which again, not sure if that’s a true crossover, since Daisy was in Marvel Rising, but I digress), where Coulson tasks Daisy to work with Kate Bishop and Rayshaun Lucas to collect and train a team of young Inhumans, starting with Kamala Khan, but I ran out of steam pretty quickly when it got too plot heavy.

8. Have you ever received hate on a fic?

I don’t think so. I’ve had some people not understand some choices that I made, but they asked it in a way that I thought was perfectly nice, and I was happy to talk about it with them. Sometimes people get “mad” at me when I cause pain and suffering, but I know that’s all in good fun :)

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Nope, not for me. I don’t read it or write it, personally. Writing a kiss is hard enough!

10. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not to my knowledge! Important Thing is probably too long and unwieldy to ever steal :P

11. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Someone once asked me on FFN if they could translate Important Thing to Russian, which was basically the coolest thing I’ve ever been asked!

12. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

A fic, no. I’d love to try sometime! I had a friend in college who I co-wrote with A LOT, though, so I know I enjoy that process, given the right partner. We wrote several short plays together (ranging from ~15-50 minutes in length, including one that we wrote in a single afternoon!), selected scenes from a larger (unfinished) play inspired by historical letters we found in an archive that were sent between a man from Massachusetts serving in the American Civil War, his wife, and his 8-year-old son, and several scripts for TV sitcoms (2 pilots for 2 different shows, plus additional eps for those pilots, and a couple of later eps for a different show that a classmate of ours wrote the pilot for - we were trying to practice what it would be like to be on a staff with a showrunner haha). The sitcom scripts in particular I’m very proud of, and could talk somebody’s ear off about if asked (one’s about ghost hunters and one’s about a DnD party!), but maybe that’s better saved for another post ;)

13. What's your all-time favorite ship?

That’s a very hard question for me! Mostly because shipping stuff is usually one of the last things to register for me when I’m thinking about shows/books/movies I like haha... I’m always a sucker for Philinda, and younger me was rather taken with Percabeth, I suppose.

14. What's a WIP that you want to finish but don't think you ever will?

Hmm, several, really. The aforementioned AoS/Marvel Rising crossover I think could be really cool if I got it to work, but I don’t think that’ll ever happen. I also have a WIP that’s like an angstier version of a Hallmark Christmas movie AU where Daisy has to come home to her small town right before Christmas and figure out what she wants out of life, but I’m a little stalled out on that one, mostly because I’m waffling on who the charming love interest should be and because I don’t have enough of a plot, just lots of feelings about coming back home to a place you thought you had left behind lol.

I’d put Important Thing and it’s (as of yet) untitled sequel on here as things I want to finish, but I’m much more determined to see those through, so I don’t think they qualify for the “never will actually write” part of this question :)

15. What are your writing strengths?

I don’t know if other people agree with this, but I think I write pretty decent dialogue. My “training” (if you can call it that) is in, as you might have figured out by now, script and screenplay writing (those were the only creative writing classes I took in college). So having a sense of the rhythm a conversation needs to have and how to write dialogue that sounds mostly like how people really talk (but shined and tightened up enough so that it’s not actually like verbatim dialogue, which is far less interesting to read!) is something that I feel like comes pretty easily. I also think I do okay with similes and metaphors - my brain tends to work in that way. It’s easier for me to think of stuff (feelings, especially) in terms of comparing it to more familiar things than to just think of the thing directly, if that makes sense?

16. What are your writing weaknesses?

If I was being honest, this would be a very long section, but I know it’s not fun to read a big ol’ paragraph of someone self-criticizing, so I’ll keep it to one or two items ;) A big one for me is pacing, I think. I tend to write more than I need to and to over-explain things, so my chapters get very long and sometimes don’t really go anywhere? Until all of the sudden, they DO, because things need to HAPPEN! I’m a pretty rigorous self-editor, but I do have a really hard time cutting out sections (unless they’re really just not working), so even if it would help the pacing to leave out this conversation between character A and character B, I often can’t make myself cut it. I also think I struggle sometimes with balancing my ‘showing’ and my ‘telling,’ especially in the sense of me over-explaining certain things - like when it comes to feelings/facial expressions/etc, for example. I compensate for that in Important Thing by making it a part of a few people’s POV, but it’s not really a good habit to have in general. Also spelling! I’m really bad at spelling and run my stuff through robust spellchecks and text-to-speech before I post anything to make up for it :)

17. What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

I do it with some regularity, although I always get nervous about doing it wrong! It’s hard to avoid in AoS, where characters are spies and should (in theory, at least) have a working knowledge of multiple languages (”We’re spies, I thought we all learned languages?!”). Even in an AU, where characters aren’t spies, I like to try and pay homage to that, plus pay homage to certain characters’ native languages or just general multilingualism. I’ve spent a fair amount of time around people who speak more than one language, so I feel like it’s a natural part of groups of people to have more than one language spoken. I have a pretty good handle on written Spanish, a patchy idea of French, plus I know some Russian phrases from my dad and some German words from my grandfather, but I do rely on internet translation a lot. I usually run stuff through google, then run it backwards to see just how far off the initial translation was, then consult some actual, like, language learning sites to see if there’s particular idioms or common phrases that use different words than what google will give me, then run those words through backwards in the place of the original words to see if I can massage the whole thing to sound reasonably competent. Languages like Russian or Mandarin (which have their own alphabets/characters) are the hardest, since I have to also try and do a transliteration. I always try to put an apology/disclaimer in the notes any time I write in a language that isn’t English, because I’m sure I make lots of mistakes.

Also, I tend not to italicize words that are in other languages, because it looks weird on the page to me to set the other language apart like that (and because I italicize mainly for internal thoughts or emphasis, and usually what’s being said in another language isn’t internal or being emphasized). I put a rough translation at the end so we don’t have to pause the story for a parenthetical translation, but because the translation’s not right there, I try to either put in enough context clues that a person can still understand what’s going on, or I make sure that what’s written in another language isn’t critical to the overall understanding of the scene.

18. What was the first fandom you wrote for?

Officially, it’s AoS, since that’s the only fandom I’ve published for. I think the first true fandom I wrote fic for was probably either Harry Potter (entirely populated with OCs lol, I just liked using the world/setting), Percy Jackson (a mix of OCs and canon characters), or X-Men (all canon characters). I was a bit of a latecomer to fanfiction, though, like, I wrote a ton as a kid, but mostly original stuff, because I didn’t know that fanfiction in its current form was even allowed until I was in high school lol.

Oh! I almost forgot one! I’m not sure if this really counts as a fandom, but it’s definitely the earliest version of fanfic I wrote haha... I was like 12 and I wrote more than one story of an OC joining Robin Hood’s band of Merry Men, and then also one of that same OC becoming a knight of the Round Table, so like... do what you will with that information haha.

19. What's you're favorite fic you've written?

I can’t choose between my two darlings :( I mean, okay, technically it’s probably Important Thing. That story’s my baby. It’s huge and I’ve been working on it for almost 2 years, and I’ve poured a lot of my heart and soul into it. I’ve fallen in love with the universe I built in it, so much so that I wrote an entire prequel and have very concrete plans for a lengthy sequel. But I can’t not crow about Shoulder to Shoulder (the aforementioned prequel!), too... I’m just really proud of that one - it has a lot of firsts for me. First completed story. First romance-focused story. First foray into expanding the Important Thing universe. But yes, if I have to choose, then Important Thing wins. That’s a story that I started writing exclusively for myself - to give myself characters I could relate to and to explore a style of AoS fic that I loved reading - and that’s a story I will always and forever be proud of.

I think most people have probably answered this tag game at this point, so I don’t want to accidentally retag anyone! If you haven’t yet, and would like to join in, please do! This is your invitation <3

[xenoredux]

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.

[bookenders]

11/11/11 Tag Game: Round... uh... 5, 6, & 7?

I got tagged by a bunch of people ( @quilloftheclouds is this how your 77 question one felt??) so here are a bunch of answers! I think this is the most I’ve ever talked about myself in my life. 

Good gracious, you’re all so nice and have such good questions.

Tagged by: @surroundedbypearls, @waterfallwritings, @bigmoodword, @sundaynightnovels

Rules: answer 11 questions, tag 11 people, give them 11 new questions!

[I’ve done this enough to be able to break the tag rules. Fight me.]

44 questions and answers below the cut!

But I’ll be nice and put my questions right here:

What would you do for a Klondike bar?

When do you title your WIPs? It is the first thing you do? The last? Does it come to you during drafting?

How many inside jokes do you put in your WIP(s)?

Your WIP’s antagonist is now The Riddler. How do your OCs handle that?

Do you use sticky notes?

Laptop or desktop?

Your OC is a wrestler. What’s their hype music?

Do you own any craft books/books on writing?

What’s your favorite book cover?

How many unread books do you have sitting around right now? Which are you most excited to maybe get to eventually some time?

How committed are you to your outline(s)?

Bilbo Taggins: Literally anyone, but also @francestroublr, @sahados-shadow, @a-story-im-writing, @bethkerring, @citruschickadee, @bos-ingit

If I’ve tagged you before, you can totally ignore this. In fact, I encourage you to.

From @surroundedbypearls:

What’s your favourite genre to write in and why? Literary fiction! It’s what I learned in university and the one that fits my themes best. Sci-fi is hard, I’m just getting into writing fantasy stuff, I can’t do thrillers, romance is hard for me, and historical is too much work.

Do you think you have a style/voice that you use more often in your writing? When did you develop that style? If you’ve read one of my stories, you know exactly how my writing voice sounds. It doesn’t change too much. I write like I talk, but if I had a lot more gravitas and charisma. Honestly, I’ve always had that kind of style, but it really developed in high school. It’s been getting stronger since then. It’s one of the things I always got comments about from my teachers and fellow workshop writers. “Your voice is so strong!” Yep. It’s mah thang.

Do you play video games? What’s your favourite? YES I DO. It’s hard to pick faves, but I’ve played Dragon Age: Origins too many times. 

If you were going to do a WIP crossover, which OCs would be most interesting together? (If you’ve only got one WIP crossover with something else) A crossover between H2H and AOPC? Interesting. I think Mel and Keema would get along the best, Oz would have some fightin’ words for Elder Sanga, and Gemma and Teva would be a force to be reckoned with, my god. Two stubborn nerds who believe totally different things but are also very determined to be very good at what they want to do and love their communities to a fault? Fear them.

Do you prefer to plan WIPs in a document or through handwritten notes? I used to do it by hand but I couldn’t read it because my handwriting is terrible and I kept losing papers. I do it in docs now. Much easier to organize and incredibly legible.

Do you multiple languages exist in your WIP? If so how do you address that in the story? H2H is set in the “real world,” so yep. It hasn’t been addressed too much yet, but I have a way for tackling languages. I’ve written multilingual-ish stories before. I never write phonetically and use hella context clues so the reader knows the gist of what was said if another character doesn’t translate.

What’s your favourite animated film that’s not Disney or Pixar? AN AMERICAN TAIL. All of them. It’s on Netflix go watch it and marvel at the way a kids movie talks about Jewish immigration, poverty, and cultural oppression via mice. As a young Jewish child, this movie was my jam. It’s very dark, though.

Do your real-life surroundings influence your WIP’s settings? Nope! One time I tried to write a story set in the same area where I lived and I couldn’t do it. Too weird. Sometimes I’ll write in an item I see near me, or like, a painting or poster on the wall if I need some set decoration, but that’s about it.

Which OCs would be most likely to break the fourth wall? Oz. Lookin’ at the camera like he’s in The Office.

How do you work out your OCs’ personalities? Hm. I look at the story I’m trying to write and make a protagonist that would have the most interesting experience in that narrative. For H2H, I wanted someone who would be loyal as heck to the people they loved while still being experimental enough to try new things and get into shenanigans. The story called for someone like that, and there she was. Mel came about my thinking of someone who would compliment other characters in the story while still being their own person. If that makes sense. I think of dynamics and interactions with the story world in relation to the theme(s). Most of the time they just happen, though.

Do you prefer worldbuilding or character building? Character building! As much as I like making stories about places, making characters is more fun for me, and more interesting. You should see all the DnD character sheets I have. 

From @waterfallwritings:

1. How do you come up with ideas for your WIPs?

At random. Seriously. It’s like my brain has to be running something in the background to function normally, and usually that something is whatever story I happen to be working on. Or I’ll look at a thing and go “huh.” My brain also likes to twist normal things to be a little bit different.

2. How do you get past gaps in the plot?

No idea, man. It’s like throwing spaghetti at a wall. I like to work backwards. If this is what I want to happen, what needs to happen before that to ensure that it occurs? I look at all the elements currently in the story and see if one can be manipulated to fill in the hole.

3. What motivates you to keep writing?

If I don’t, my brain gets all constipated and angry until I write something down. Like, seriously, I get grumpy and frustrated like I’m hangry or something. Aside from physical need, I love writing. I love word puzzles and feelings puzzles and figuring them out. Sometimes I think of how my stories could help someone, or make them feel something that they enjoy. 

4. Do you do any other kind of creative writing?

Oh, man, I’ve done it all. Screenwriting, playwriting, poetry, video game-ish writing, interactive storytelling, short stories, flash fiction, proposals, essays, DnD campaigns, monologues... You name it, I’ve probably tried it. I tend to stick to prose and poetry these days.

5. Do you have any other creative hobbies besides writing?

I’ve gotten into graphic design a little bit. I kind of wanna learn how to knit again. I’m not really very crafty. 

6. What do you do when you’re stuck on a scene and don’t know how to get it out / write it?

Write a different scene, stare at the screen in frustration until I give up and go to sleep, meditate for a few minutes, go do something else to get my mind off of it, clean, work on a different project.

7. How do you decide how to end your WIP?

I mean, see the next question for part of my answer. How did I decide to end H2H? My friend, that’s a big ‘ole spoiler. But I decided to end it at a place where everything, and everyone, comes together.

8. When in the process of writing do you decide how its going to end? Or do you kind of just wait til you get there?

Right at the beginning. If I don’t know where it’ll end, I have a hard time writing the arc. I work backwards: start with the idea, then think of where I want it to end up, then work back to the beginning until I know where its going, then start writing.

9. Why did you decide to join writeblr?

My reasons are pretty personal, but the least personal is that I needed some accountability and motivation. And I missed being in a good writing community.

10. What’s your favourite food?

Pasta! I’m eating spaghetti right now.

11. If you had to kill off a character in your WIP, who would it be and why?

Oz would be the most tragic. Treena would be the most logical. 

From @bigmoodword:

1. using one sentence summaries, can you tell me about your wips?

Nerdy potion woman meets cute odd stranger who helps her solve magic mysteries in their quirky small town.

2. what inspired them?

I saw a zine accepting submissions for magic stories, then an open call for queer shifter stories, and thought “what if wholesome magical lesbians?”

3. which of your ocs do you most identify with?

Gemma!

4. if you’ve ever cried while reading, which book cued the waterworks?

THE SONG OF ACHILLES.  My God, my soul was weeping. Honestly, it still is. Doesn’t matter that I knew the story from the Iliad. Madeline Miller is a feelings wizard.

5. how do you conduct research for your wips and what’s the most interesting thing you’ve discovered in said research?

On an as-needed basis. I used to do way too much research to avoid actually writing the damn thing, so now I only do it when I actually run into a problem that can be solved by Google.

6. thus far, which scene has been the most difficult to write?

The ones that aren’t hugely emotional. Which is... unfortunate.

7. which of your ocs do you like the least?

Rude. On a personal level, Jill. I love her, but I would not be friends with her. We wouldn’t mesh at all.

8. which pov and tense do you prefer to write in?

Third person limited present tense! To the bane of everyone who’s ever edited my work.

9. do you write poetry?

I do! Not often, though.

10. who is your writing role model?

My freakin’ writing professor from college. He is crazy disciplined.

11. if you could give your younger writer self some advice, what would it be?

Hey, you know those people who say your writing is too dark? Yeah, they suck and they’re wrong. They just want kids to live up to their expectations and write happy sunshiny stories about unicorns and dinosaurs having ice cream. And you’re not depressed because you wrote that one sad poem one time and someone asked if you were depressed. What you have is called feelings and they’re very useful for a writer, nay, a human, to have.

From @sundaynightnovels:

Who is your biggest role model? Okay, so I got crap all the time in grade school for never having a role model, and I still don’t have one. The teachers were concerned about me. But my reasoning was, “why should I want to live someone else’s life?” Yeah. They didn’t really know what to do with that...

What are your OCs favorite foods? Sort of answered here!

Which OC is most afraid of the dark? Oz and Mary!

What made you want to start a writing blog/participate in the writeblr community? Answered above!

Did you sleep with a stuffed animal as a kid? Do you still? I did, indeed. I don’t anymore, but I have two that I shuffle around my room when they get in the way. One is a highland cow I got in Scotland (he has a plaid hat), the other is a blue whale I got at the Museum of Natural History in NY.

Do you like donuts? I love donuts. Especially jelly filled ones. Mmm.

Do/would your OCs like donuts? All of my OCs like donuts. I don’t think Mel has ever had a modern one, though.

What is your least favorite food? Cauliflower? I’m the household taste-tester, so there’s been a lot of stuff I don’t like.  ( @sundaynightnovels I hate sparkling water, too, you’re not alone!)

What is your ideal writing environment? Comfy seating, a chair with no arms (stupid elbows), alone, plenty of chosen beverage within reach, headphones.

Favorite line from your WIP? So far, it’s this one!

Favorite quote from a book? Oh, man. There are so many. From recent memory, here are a few: “’Give it time,’ she replies. ‘It won’t be a story forever.’“  and “Everyone has heard stories of women like us, and now we will make more of them.” (both from The Ladies Guide to Petticoats and Piracy) “When he smiled, the skin at the corners of his eyes crinkled like a leaf held to flame.” and “I lean forward and our lips land clumsily on each other. They are like the fat bodies of bees, soft and round and giddy with pollen.” (I could write a goddamn essay about the imagery in this scene.) (It is quite possibly my favorite description of a kiss ever. And the metaphor extends through the rest of the scene so artfully ugh.) (both from The Song of Achilles) “The thing about a story is that you dream it as you tell it, hoping that others might then dream along with you, and in this way memory and imagination and language combine to make spirits in the head.” (from The Things They Carried)

[cpeacephoto]

This is NOT a sad story.

This is a story about how the worst sin I ever committed to someone else, was really the worst sin I ever did to me. It really would be better told in comic form like The Oatmeal but, we work with what we have got.

Between roughly 16 to 26 we are sort of thrust out to figure out who we are, our place in the world, relationships, and so on. It is a lot like feeling your way blindly through a cave. You are told you’re in a cave, you’re told there’s a way out, you’re told you have to get out. That the rewards will be high and so will the punishments. So, you begin to feel your way through with anxiety and excitement. Periods where you gain confidence and periods where you do not want to move anymore. My story is no different.

When I was 16, I moved to a new place. Did not know anyone. In the place I had been I was defined differently. I was someone just starting to gain an interest in photography. At that time, I was nerdy. I played Magic The Gathering, I was interested in role playing games similar to DnD, I had even tried table top games like Warhammer 40k. I was someone who loved to listen to loud angry music and work off the aggression on the bike trails and I liked playing Hacky Sack at lunch. I enjoyed writing deeply and I really enjoyed being a part of the group. And I felt like I was somebody in my group. I was someone who was snarky, witty, quick with a clever pop culture reference, funny, and weird. In my social group I was someone that could be counted on for deep conversations, something funny, and being dependable. I was someone who was not afraid to voice his opinions even if he was hopelessly wrong, to get into arguments, and even if it hurt still believed that conflict was okay. It did not mean it was over. It meant you learned more about each other and yourself.

In the new place I was at, everyone was different. Everyone except one amazing person who was busy on their own journey. Life has a funny way of speaking to you. It does not use words, or voices, or even explicit action. You have instincts. And sometimes those instincts tell you things like to stay away from someone or to do a certain task. When I saw this person before we had even met yet I just knew they were the most important thing in my life.

We became friends. Not at first as it was bumpy. But I persisted. And I have never regretted it. When we finally learned how to talk to each other it was amazing. Not so much over great distances like letters or the internet. But in person we just seemed to click. Those conversations were like talking to the deepest parts of your own soul. Learning something new about them was like learning a truth of the universe. Doing things with them, just felt right.

My friend and I connected because were both snarky, witty, and most of all weird. We both loved to live in our own little imaginative worlds. And we would talk about it to great length. The little movies we had played out in our heads in places that never existed. It also did not hurt that I was helpless to the fact they had this amazingly big beautiful brain. They were amazingly compassionate. Not afraid to get their hands dirty. Weird in all the right innocent ways. Had a face I could not really say no to and was comforted by just being the room with.  

But it did not take long before I begin to commit my sin. Right from the beginning I changed. It started by not playing computer games. They did not play the same games. And I was so worried about fitting in or looking stupid that I stopped playing them too. Same with the Magic cards, the RPG’s, the tabletop games, all of it. As time grew, I began to vocally look down at these activities. Trying to fit in by being mean just to fit in, even though I was really being mean to myself by not participating.

Our conversations inside our little worlds continued. But they slowly began to degrade. The trips to our fantasy escape became less frequent as the real world became more and more a forefront. I stopped writing. High school ended and we ended up at school. They had their entire life roughly mapped out. All I knew was that they were important. We ended up at neighboring Universities. Both now in new places again, trying to figure out who we were individually, together, and around other people.

The idea of having to “grow up” became more and more a concern for me. I so desperately did not want to be left behind. I wanted to stake my claim to a place in this world. Like a lot of young people, I was being told repeatedly that I had to do everything right or I was going to be living in a van down by the river. They no one would be coming to save me from a horrible life. It also didn’t help that like a lot of young people I was someone who was quick to judgment, quick to anger or fight, and quick to opinions. I was also slow to forgive, and I hated waiting. I wanted my perfect life and I wanted it now.

Life is a lot like floating down a river in a boat. It flows, it moves in one direction, and you really cannot change the shape of the river by yourself. Where and how you end may not be as where or how you planned from the start. You usually do not see the end from the start. More importantly you cannot get to the end of the river at the start. You have to take the journey, no matter how that river my twist and turn, slow or speed, be it rough or smooth.

There are signals if you take the moment to look for them. Just as I knew my friend was important, I knew change was coming. I can remember one morning walking down the hill from where we were staying. I was alone. And all I could think of is somehow, someway, it would be a long time before I would be walking up this hill again. It was going to be long and it was going to hurt. And when I got to the hill again, there’d be a dark-haired woman with me but I couldn’t see her face.

As time progressed, I saw my friend around a lot of new people. I grew insecure. I could feel my friend growing distant. In some ways it felt like they were not themselves anymore. I so desperately wanted to help them. And in my insecurity, I also feared being left behind. And I feared those new friends. I began cutting away more pieces of myself. It felt like the stakes of life in the real world where getting higher, and harder. That I needed to continue to make a bigger and better effort to try and keep up. To prove my worth and to keep everything together. I kept trying to lose things that were “kids stuff” or “weird” because part of me worried I was losing my friend because these other people were somehow more adult than I was.

By the time things fell apart my friend was already long gone. It was really just a formality at this point. Under all the pressure and with the very obvious failing that had now taken place cracks began to form in the physical world. I stopped eating, drinking, sleeping. My mind raced and I looked for answers anywhere I could get them. I was determined that I could prove I was good enough. I would prove I was paying attention and I was strong enough. I can keep up if you just do not leave me here. “I can fix this” became a death chant. Determined I just needed more time, more data.

The escalation happened fast. The answer came quickly. It was not a call for help, it was not a mean hurtful arrogant call for attention. It felt right. Once again, I felt like I was stepping up. Making the tough call and being the adult world needed me to be. I did not want to, but I had to. It made sense. And oddly anything making sense in that moment felt like stress relief. All I had to do was lose the last part of me I had left.

Things do not work out like they do in the movies. No one is coming to save you. Not that I really had anyone besides my parents to by then anyways. The best plans do not always work out. It is not quick, or painless, no one calls you a hero at the end of it. Instead whatever resemblance of a life you have left is now gone. Everyone hates you. You have nothing. No matter how bad you think your life is, it can always get worse.

The worst things I ever did to someone else, was the worst thing I ever did to me. In an attempt to fit in, solve insecurities, be and do what I thought my friend and everyone else wanted me to be or do I lost myself. By slowly losing who I was, I lost them. I lost giving the reason to see me with value. And they lost apart of themselves trying to compensate. For them, it took leaving the empty shell I had become to find me in other people.

Everything you need to know about existence can be summed up with 3 words: it goes on. My friend and their new friends lived life. Their journey of self-discovery continued without me. In short, they began the process of finding themselves again. And fortunately, they had lots of people around them for support. It is surely a process that will have likely led them to many places, many people, sadly a few bouts of pain, but lucky some joy as well.

Life rarely gives you what you want when you want it. But if you are listening it’ll give you want you need whether you’re ready for it or not. For me, I knew this meant waiting for something. But I did not know what. And I knew it meant becoming something, but I did not know what. And I never knew why to either.

Every person, every place, every situation, happens for a reason potentially. A lesson in what to do, or not to do. A lesson that teaches us who we really are. The hero of the story rarely is the person they were at the end of the story as they were at the beginning. They usually needed to do something and become something different. Like my friend, my story continued as well.

This was a new phase of life. From the spot I landed myself I had nothing. No friends, no school, no job. I was alone. I was a hollow hulk of a person. Anyone around me told me I was broken, and I believed them. Because they thought I was broken they tried to fix it with medications, their own decisions, advice on what I should do, and so on. But I was not broken. It was amnesia. I simply had forgotten who I was.

That is the way my life continued for a while. I would eventually no longer be medicated. I would finish school, where I started even, though it was not easy. I would find work. Not careers but work. I found a way to survive. Handle all the check boxes of the real world. But I was alone. No friends, no new romances. Just surviving.

At some point I would make the horrible mistake a lot of people make. When in doubt I would do what those in my orbit told me to do. Coworkers, parents, whatever passed for a friend at the time. I would date other people because they said it is what I needed to do. Hook up with other people because they said it is what I needed to do. Not talk to certain people because they said it is what I needed to do. None of it ever felt right.

And the whole time I would keep myself locked up from other people, making friends, having fun, finding out what I enjoy, doing the things I used to like to do. Holding myself to this impossible standard of having to be better than I am. That it is all my fault. That I am some sort of monster. That this should just be easy. I should just know. That funny feelings like “I’ll be here again”, “they’re important”, “this isn’t meant for me”, “and I need to wait” was just stupid. That recurring or all too real dreams were just stupid dreams and proof I belonged in my box.

My story would end up taking me west. First to someplace new and then back to where I had started when all of this began. While I would meet a lot of people in that time, I would not make a lot of friends. Honestly, I had spent most of my 20s alone.

It sounds horrible but time has a funny way of grinding down mountains to sand. Space to just sit in a box and scream until you are just tired of screaming, learn screaming isn’t doing anything, accept you’re in the box. Time gives you a chance to think. It gives you a chance to find patience. It gives you time to find humility. It gives you time to find forgiveness. And it gives your perspective. Over the course of time I would find myself less willing to get into fights or arguments. Less quick to anger. Less worried about politics. Less interesting in things that did not really mattered.

Slowly but surely, I’ve been given glimpses of myself. Like breadcrumbs on a path to follow. I got to play Munchkin with a few a few times and was able to feel a little like me again. I was able to form a better relationship with my sibling and do regular long-distance computer games together and get to feel a little like me. And I get to do photography.

Photography for me is a great sense of wonder. I am not the best at it, and that’s okay. I am not trying to be “an artist” anymore. I like looking at something and seeing an image. Getting that film back and just getting that feeling of, “wow, that worked out really well”. That pride of “I did that”.  

In portraits, I would really get to feel myself again. I would get to try to create images that made me feel like my old friend was still around. Even if the photos from the shoot sucked, I would get to meet a new person. And my favorite thing to do with that new person was talk for hours and hours about my old friend. Talk fondly of them, how wonderful they are, why they should go look at their works, and so on. It is in those moments I get to come alive, feel complete again, and do something that really truly fills me with joy and with purpose. I get to remember who I am just a little bit. The best compliment I ever got from someone was how they hopes someone they used to know would talk so fondly about them 10 years later as I do about my old friend. So, the photos became breadcrumbs into who I am. Visual clues to helping me remember a part of me I lost.

I write this out because as you look at my photos, this is why they exist. They are windows into who I used to be, and into who I am. But I do not regret meeting my old friend or anything that happened. I believe we met for a reason, we parted for a reason, I had to do the things that happened after for a reason. And that if I am right, I will see my friend again someday for a reason. Because somehow, I just feel like my story ends where it started.

I also write it down for me. A million people have said a million things to me. Maybe they are right. But at least in this moment I can record something from me that helps remind me who I really am.

I am someone who can still be snarky, witty, funny, and sarcastic. Quick to a pop culture reference I can have whole random conversations where every reply includes the title of a song by the same artist just to see if the other person catches it. I still enjoy being randomly weird. I like singing in the car, making up songs in the moment about doing stupid things like changing my shirt or feeding the cat. I really enjoy my fantastic mixer and baking cookies or making waffles. Not eating so much, just baking. I believe that house cleaning, putting away groceries, and baking should be done to happy music. I like visiting the local comic book store even if I haven’t built up the courage to buy anything yet.

I like playing video games be they with a sci-fi or fantasy twist. But only as long as they remain fun and not become work. My goal is never to advance in the game, but to have the conversations I have with the people playing. If we win, it will be together. The ending does not matter if I play alone. I believe in owning only 1 television and not wasting my life in front it despite all the amazing sci-fi and fantasy shows. I enjoy deep conversations. The best parts of photo shoots are always conversations.

You will find I am someone who likes to collect enamel pins. Not necessarily sets or anything of value. And I do not wear them around. But I like having pins that remind me of things and I keep them in a display case. I have also found I really like bluesy rock music from people such as Buddy Guy, Keb’ Mo’, John Mayer, Marc Broussard, Beth Hart and Joe Bonamassa. That despite wearing mostly black you will find I usually have some sort of cat themed or nerd themed like Game of Thornes socks on. Because what’s life without whimsy?

               Someone who even though may not be the most courageous person in the room I am willing to take a risk in the moment if it betters others. While I do not always succeed at everything and learning to let go of some things has been hard, when I felt deep inside something was important, I am someone who does not give up on it. Not when it hurts. Not when others say to. Not when it has clearly kicked me down. Because I believe the fight is not over until I give up.

               While I have never been religious and I don’t know how much stock I put into holistic concepts like auras, ghosts, fate, past lives, the meanings of dreams, and so on, I do think there’s things in this world we don’t understand. Magic is just science we do not understand yet. We are built with instincts. And while I take it with a grain of salt, I do think that funny feelings, repeating dreams, and déjà vu, matters. Sometimes you need to just listen to what the world is telling you.

I am someone who believe that at least once a month I need to fully clean my house, particularly the kitchen and bathrooms back to a “zero” point. And that I do not like a cluttered garage just for storage. Hoarding junk for junk’s sake. You should know where a tool is and easily be able to get it. Everything has a home. But maybe that is just those Toyota Way classes I had to take.

I like the fact I have a job that is potentially a career. I have stable income from a company that is invested in me. I own a house, make car payments, standing on my own, work towards a retirement in that town where the hill was. I want my old age to be peanut butter milk shakes by the light house and taking comfort that even if we never speak my old friend is nearby.

I like that in my job I get to know what is going on with my company, I get to be responsible for my facility, make decisions, approve, and manage spending. That I get to be the guy people go to for answers (even if they are not always fun, I am honest). And that when in doubt I am the guy who gets things done. It is not my dream job, but I like what it gives me. And I have learned from any job that working full time gives me purpose. I hate just sitting at home with nothing to do.

I am someone who really does not like being mean, or having others be mean, just for mean sake. I also do not like trying to lie or argue my way out of a problem. I believe if I have done something wrong, I own up to it. I am likely to punish myself more for it than they anyways.  

And I like photography. I like exploring new places. I like talking to new people. I like trying to think of different setups or go hunting for what I think is a photo. I like getting the film back and feeling amazed when something works out. I love that mechanical feel of old film cameras with their cranks and ratchet advancements.

I still get lost from time to time. I still forget who I am, get insecure, and get anxious. There have been times when my overly analytical self has thought something to death and my mind races. Sometimes I still crawl back into my box of how I am a horrible monster and there is no one here to tell me no or help me back out. But slowly, I am becoming me again.

I have not forgotten my friend either. I still wear my side zip combat boots. I know that Mac and Cheese must be made with real cheese. That socks cannot be worn to bed because “feet were made to be free”. I am conscious of having ambient noise like a fan that is on but not necessarily cooling. Food does not have to be just for fuel and Chinese buffets, pies, raspberries, are all meant to be samples for textures and combinations. That there is a difference between “be right back” and “I’ve got to go” and not to leave people hanging. And of course, how to change the brakes on my car.

Obviously, my story is not yet over. I fully am thankful for everywhere I have been and everyone I have met. I do not regret any of the people I met along the way. Even if it was not always a pleasant experience. But I never forgot my old friend. I still believe I will end up on that hill again with someone. And I still feel like I just know some way, somehow, my story’s end is with them.

I know in part because if I am incredibly lucky, on the rare occasion I can extend my telescope to see my old friend on their boat. Taking their journey. And no matter who they are with or what they are doing, seeing their face or their work just makes me feel complete. Happy, sad; sometimes. But always complete. It makes whatever problems were bothering me that day go away. That it is all going to be okay.

I know because it is amazing to know they are okay. To see them happy even around someone else, just makes me feel like I can have a big smile that they are going to be happy and safe. And I know that one day our boats would meet again when we become who we needed to be at that part of the story. That I was built for them.

This is not a sad story. It is the story of how the worst thing I ever did to another person was the worst thing I ever did to myself. I forgot who I was. And it is the ongoing story of remembering who I am. Telling stories and sharing images. Until finally my ship makes its way back home.

Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy what you find here.

[alwayslateornever]

strikercorbie replied to your photoset

What the flying fuck is this??

I’m assuming you read the tags, so lets start from the beginning.  This got long fast so under a read more it goes~

A coworker “E” invited me to join her husband, sister, and son on a new dnd campaign.  They’ve played dnd for years, gone through multiple campaigns, most of them with her husband “R” being the dm.  I chose a Firbolg as my first character, a giant soft boy named Fig raised by dwarven monks in a brewery.  He was scared and not born to fighting.  He was also trans, which I didn’t tell R. 

(I was going to work actual white into his outfit later, but it should be obvious his color scheme is based on the trans flag)

Right out the gate (literally less than 5 minutes into the campaign) R makes a quip about how one of the female player characters was extremely hot and that the two men of the part (Fig and a dwarven cleric) are showing obvious interest.  in their pants.  

(please imagine the literal pain I caused myself trying NOT to eyeroll in front of R at this)

I didn’t follow through with this idea of his, and tried to vaguely insinuate that Fig wasn’t attracted to anyone.  Like me, who is ace.  R obviously wasn’t happy about me not continuing his “funny” joke, but the subject was dropped. The same sort of joke came up again with the main antagonist in our story, a YOUNG, UNDERAGE GIRL.  Again I didn’t take the bait, and thankfully after that he stopped trying that sort of “joke”.

However this campaign was broken into chapters, and R wanted to play a character in the next chapter and handed dming off to his son, J.  

We only played a single session with J dming, because he never planned ahead, and R spent the whole time belittling him. (this wasn’t new, every session R was doing this to his own son)

Because that campaign essentially fell through, and with the release of the Ravnica expansion, R began a new campaign, and @gettinziggywithit​ was invited to join in place of my coworkers sister. (who had stopped coming because of bs reasons all her own, and so R just killed off her character.  No one was sad about this)

R has a... passion? for writing up characters, so he wrote up a dwarven bard for Katie, which she decided to give an apprehension engine instrument.  (which is such a fun idea and played well with her characters personality, but I think R forgot this or just decided to veto it outright) (this isn’t important to post but it was important to me)

In this I made a female human rogue (as R had made a small comment prior in direct relation to the “joke” from before about how I played a male character) named Nora, who was basically Dexter (from same named show).  E also made a female character (ranger gnome? I cant remember), and their son J was to join later.  

Our first session, we are trying to leave this bog area, and we get ambushed by...Sucker Eels!  A creature of R’s own creation!

What do sucker eels do you ask?  They jump into your mouth, lock themselves in, and proceed to lay tons of eggs inside you that unless you get to a healer in time, will devour you from within.  That is if you don’t suffocate during the process, as trying to dislodge them make them burrow DEEPER.

Both Katie and my characters fucking deep throat some eels, all to the amusement of R.  Our characters get healed up, but we only do 2 sessions.

At the same time of these sessions, R starts talking to a coworker about doing a game with them as well, which this coworkers wife would DM as R wanted to actually play for once.  So, I write up a new character, a dwarven female rogue named Ira Octava.  Who is my Dragon Age: Inquisition character.  Who was based on my fantroll.

(don’t talk to me about ASLOD feels I will ALWAYS have ASLOD feels dude)

I headcanon that dwarven women also grow beards, Ira just likes to shave.  Also she’s 19.  Also she’s trans.  Still didn’t tell anyone.

This campaign started out well enough, but it quickly devolved as R kept redirecting the focus.  Also I should note, he makes pretty well balanced and fun characters for others, but his own characters are min/maxed to hell.  which really isn’t fun to play against.  

This campaign also only lasted 2 sessions.  Not because of R, but because we had to drive 2 HOURS (because R and E refuse to use toll roads, which would have made the trip 45 minutes) to the coworkers apartment, where a 5 year old treated us like a jungle gym, stole our dice, and tried to get into every bag/purse we’d brought.  Which the parents really didn’t give a crap about.

NOW

R suggested, because of the drive and the time restrictions, that we should try a session over discord.  He would gm this one, and we’d be moving away from dnd and working with the mutant and masterminds set up.  Superheroes and the like kind of game.  Right off the bat I new I wanted to play a character I already had.  Dude McMarrs.

Dude’s story came to me in horror packed dream filled with space crafts, aliens, body horror, death and humor.  Also you know, Venom was still fresh in my mind, and I literally already had a symbiote character so it was an easy choice.

The thing is, Dude is also trans male.  That was part of the dream, and I refused to remove this from his character.  Again, I wasn’t going to tell anyone in the game, as I knew it would be made into “a thing” somehow, which I hate.

Except, I was already getting tired of R’s bs attitude, humor, and opinions.  So when on the one trip we made to go talk about the game and characters in person, he makes the remark “You don’t play male characters well”, I make the dumbest statement alive.  I say “well he’s trans.”  like that’s different somehow.  Not my best moment, but I was getting frustrated.  I felt dread immediately.

R is questioning it at first, kind of like “why?”, and then tries to science against it with “no trans individuals in space because of taking hormones”, and I actually make a stand and shut him down.  We’re doing a superhero setting, which is a fantasy world, WITH SPECIFICALLY HIGHER ADVANCED TECHNOLOGIES AND MEDICINE, and you’re going to try and be “realistic” about a trans dude in space?  I didn’t back down, and it payed off.  I actually win, I get to have this character be themselves openly instead of once again hiding it.  

This happened 2 months ago, and I kept making it a point to be firm about Dude being trans.  And R actually seemed to be okay with it.  I was filled with confidence about this game, and being relaxed with a character I knew.  I was starting to think maybe R just had a crap sense of humor, but was actually a decent human being.

Now, I don’t know.

The post came from an email he sent to everyone, basically asking for background info and basic character info.  WHICH HE HAS ALREADY FROM ME.  On that info, Dude is labeled male, because he is male. He’s a trans man, he is male.  period.  

But the thing is, he could have just left it at “are you a boy or a girl?” and there would be no hurt.  That’s standard questionnaire stuff and it doesn’t bother me.   Instead, he typed out the additional “(there is no third answer)”.  That was unnecessary.  That was intentional. 

And ya, I may be taking this overboard for a character, but this statement also invalidates my identity. I’m agender.  I’m still working through my own social concepts of gender and gender roles, but everyday I accept who I am and that I am agender.  So seeing this, honestly hurt.   Does R know I’m agender? No. and I had no intentions of telling him before this.  Now I just really don’t want to be a part of this group.  Even though I was excited for this game.  But whatever, it’ll either never even start as other people are dragging their feet, or it will be abandoned pretty quick.

END OF RANT BONUS: Your standard instagram bathroom mirror photo of Dude before the shuttle mission.

A guy happy and comfortable in his own body.  Thanks for reading.

[arctic-urpo]

Cyrus and Ceri pls??

Absolutely, thank you for asking nonnie!!!!!

For Cyrus:

Full Name: ★CYRUS POFFINGTON★ - THE STAR PRINCE (His real name is a secret (bc his background is a secret to the other players) so this is the name he goes by and everyone knows him)

Gender and Sexuality: A guy, and a 100000% homosexual.

Pronouns: He/him

Ethnicity/Species: He’s an aasimar (in DnD aasimars are like, humans with celestial blood so kind of like half-angels)

Birthplace and Birthdate: Birthplace is a ★Secret ★ and while idk how timelines work in DnD universe, I’ve put him down as Sagittarius so somewhere around November-December

Guilty Pleasures: Gods, lots. He likes cheating money out of people in card games, he likes to flirt with people who are in love with him just for fun, he befriends people for their pets… 

Phobias: He doesn’t really have any specific ones left. He used to not like heights, but for his magic shows he wanted to do tricks relating to high places so he just practiced the tricks until his fear went away, for examples. Anything he’s afraid of he’ll just, get rid of as soon as possible in not-so-good ways out of impatience

What They Would Be Famous For: He’s already a famous magician so!! That lol

What They Would Get Arrested For: Gods, swindling people probably. I mean, he only swindles from people he deems ~bad~ (like from abusive and actually morally corrupt people to people who are just “Super Mean :(((” or he just disagrees with their moral standards) but that kind of vigilante justice doesn’t really go according to law lol

OC You Ship Them With: We haven’t yet started the game so I can’t say if there’ll be someone, haha~ But for now, no one! 

OC Most Likely To Murder Them: Gods, as said the game has yet to start but I feel like one player’s character Vivi is already a candidate, because she’s the bodyguard for another character Selena, and Cyrus tends to play around with her a lot (play around in like the, pick her up and spin around to make her dizzy kind of way) and Vivi Does Not Approve

Favorite Movie/Book Genre: He’s not that into fiction! But I think he’d generally love stories about animals 

Least Favorite Movie/Book Cliche: Doesn’t really have one~

Talents and/or Powers: Uhm he’s a Bard, so even now on first level he has the magical power of actually hurting others by insulting them :’’’D But yeah he’s a mage so there’s that, but he’s also skilled in playing the violin, flute and lute, and also he’s skilled in magic tricks! Some of his magic tricks do include actual magic and some are more our world kind of magic tricks.

But really, the magic shows are more about the show and glamour, and entertaining people. Which he is great at. 

Why Someone Might Love Them: He’s a charming young man, who can be really sweet and make you laugh and smile any day of your life. There’s not a boring day with him, really

Why Someone Might Hate Them: He’s… super annoying, selfish and makes assumptions and judges people without really even knowing them. He’s also a perfectionist about his shows so gods if something goes wrong he’s going to be so upset and whine abt it

How They Change: Well, that remains to be seen! Only thing I know that will change in his life is that he’ll get a puppy after our first mission bc the GM promised me he’d give me enough money and an opportunity to get the lil darling~ It’s gonna be a Toy Pomeranian and his name will be★ FLUFFY POFFINGTON★ - THE STAR KNIGHT

Why You Love Them: He’s, so dramatic and fun, I feel like I’ll have a blast playing with him because he’s so lively and energetic! He’s also really pretty and I would die from being gay if I actually met him, lol

For Ceri!

Full Name: Ceri Davies

Gender and Sexuality: Male, and a gay demisexual!

Pronouns: He/him!

Ethnicity/Species: Idk, some kind of human bean

Birthplace and Birthdate: He’s also from the Mystery Country that most my OCs live in, and he was born September 6th

Guilty Pleasures: Idk if this counts as guilty pleasure but he tends to annoy people on purpose, just to see if they get upset with him if he’s difficult or uncooperative and when they do he’ll cry and turn it around to say they’re bad for getting angry at him. He keeps doing this even though he hates doing it. He also has a lot of shitty coping mechanisms

Phobias: Being abandoned, being hated, never being loved, being alone….. You get the picture

What They Would Be Famous For: He’s not really the type to be famous…. unless for like, bad reasons. Like the answer of the next question…

What They Would Get Arrested For: Murder of a lover. Like, no question abt it.

OC You Ship Them With: Salal!

OC Most Likely To Murder Them: He doesn’t really have anyone close enough for this other than Salal… I guess his family goes for this though, especially his shitty older siblings

Favorite Movie/Book Genre: Romance

Least Favorite Movie/Book Cliche: Like, you know the trope where character A is about to like, get married to character B and then A’s old sweetheart C comes back into their life and they fall for them again and end up dumping B for C? Yeah, Ceri hates that. And any other kind of cheating/breaking up tropes.

Talents and/or Powers: He’s an extremely little-better-than-mediocre in many things, like web design. Although he was very studious and hard-working, and did get straight A’s when he was in elementary to high school, and then got into university when his mental health finally plummeted from the abuse at home. Now he lives in sort of a daze, and many of his skills and knowledge has kind of… deteriorated bc he stopped. 

He still managed to graduate well enough and get a job with the skills he had already acquired, but there’s little hope for him to get actually better and ahead without like… getting actual professional help for his mental health…

//EDIT: ALSO I GUESS HE’S SOMEWHAT CAPABLE OF BLACK MAGIC like geez that fact might be relevant somewhat to his character arc

Why Someone Might Love Them: Uh, that’s a good question. He’s hardworking and, when he’s actually stable he’s witty and funny, and I think he’s the type to have a really cute laugh. All in all, he is a sweet person underneath, who just got treated like shit by the world

Why Someone Might Hate Them: I mean, he’s like, Problematic ™ so it’s easy to see why. If someone even tries to befriend him, he either turns them down until they give up or he’ll demand their absolute attention and care and when they of course wouldn’t be able to provide that he’d dump them out of his life. It’s all of course because of a mental illness, but, he is really abusive and has given up on trying to be better (he thinks that it’s “too late for him to be good”) so… 

How They Change: I think he’ll eventually realize that he can change and will seek help, and will at least to some degree start to interact with other humans again. 

Why You Love Them: I mean, of course the obvious “I love yanderes” part, I think what I love him about the most is the fact that he’s a bad person without a like, justification. There’s a reason why he’s like that, and he’s not completely a lost case or irredeemable but still, he’s not good. He yearns to be loved and cared for but he doesn’t know how to go about it and ends up summoning a demon in his desperation… Idk, I really love thinking about his personality and how he ended up being like this, and what goes on in his head. So ultimately, I love yanderes and have endless interest in that kind of thought processes orz