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datleggy · 4 years ago

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Albert Plots aka coda to 4x02

One of Bucks house rules is: don't barge into my room unannounced.

It only becomes a house rule, of course, after Albert inadvertently interrupts his therapy session as he's mid sentence.

"Oh crap, sorry sorry, I didn't realize--I mean, I thought--sorry." Albert finishes lamely, cringing at his own intrusion.

Buck practically chucks his tablet across his bed, face down, in his surprise. “Dude, knock.”

Albert shrugs, grimacing apologetically. “You don’t have a door though?”

Buck sighs, running a hand through his hair nervously. “Just...announce yourself next time, ok? Like, yell ‘I’m coming up’ or whatever.”

Albert nods. “Sorry.” he mutters again.

Buck decides the kid looks contrite enough that he can brush the whole thing off--it’s not like he overheard anything. “It’s ok, don’t worry, we’re good. What’s up? You needed something?”

“I wanted to see if you wanted to order pizza but um,” Chimneys little brother pauses and scratches the back of his head. “Are you ok?”

Buck gulps. “Uh, yeah, I--why wouldn’t I be?” Well shit, Buck thinks, maybe he did overhear a tidbit or two, after all...

“Well,” Albert purses his lips to one side. “What you said just now, about hiding your feelings? Sorry, I really didn’t mean to eavesdrop--I was hungry and didn’t think before running up here. But um, listen, if you ever need an ear or a shoulder,” he shrugs delicately. “You’ve been there for me before a few times now. I like to think we’re good friends, so I want you to know you can always count on me to be there if you need someone. That’s all.”

Buck would be touched if he weren’t also kind of mortified over having been caught spilling his guts to Dr. Copeland. Albert must see that, because he immediately moves to change the subject. “So, pizza?”

“Yup,” Buck clears his throat. “Sal’s is the best joint in the area, their menu’s on the fridge, call and order whatever you want. I’ll umm, I’ll join you in a little bit.”

"Ok." Albert scurries off quickly enough and Buck feels a little bad for not being more reassuring that he's not upset with him. But it's hard; being vulnerable, that is.

********

An hour later dinner is silent and just a tiny bit awkward between the two men.

It's only after a couple of beers that Buck loosens up enough to blurt out, "I'm in love with Eddie."

Albert blinks up at him in surprise. "Oh shit." His face breaks out into a happy grin. "Dude, that's awesome! I always thought you two would be good together. Actually, I gotta admit, I thought you two were dating when we first met at that bar. So it makes sense." Albert's voice trails off upon realizing how red Buck's face has gone. "Wait, did you not--you know? Know?" Albert's eyes grow wide.

Buck shrugs. "I kinda always knew? But I mean, the Eddie thing is..." He groans, "How am I supposed to tell my best friend I'm in love with him? It would ruin everything."

Albert shakes his head adamantly. "No way man, you said it yourself, Eddie's your best friend, your feelings for him wouldn't 'ruin' anything. Even if by some crazy chance he doesn't feel the same way it's not like he'd stop being friends with you."

Buck rubs a hand up his shoulder and bites on his bottom lip. "But what if that's exactly what happens? I don't wanna hide my feelings anymore, from anyone, but I don't think I can take that risk--it's too big, I could lose too much."

Albert has seen the way Eddie looks at Buck when he thinks no one is else is paying attention. “Look man, I’m not exactly the observant type--Howie can tell you that--but even I can see Eddie’s heart eyes when he’s looking in your direction.”

Buck groans, hiding his face in his hands. “I just don’t wanna mess up what we have.” he looks up, his expression sullen. “We’ve got a good thing going.” he shrugs. “If I confess my feelings there’s a chance--” he sighs, hanging his head. “I can’t do it.”

Albert reaches over and squeezes his shoulder in support. Suddenly an idea strikes him. “Hey,” he jumps up. “What if I could prove to you that Eddie’s just as into you as you are, into him? Would you say something then?”

Buck lifts his head to look Albert in the eye, “How would you go about doing that?”

Albert waves him off. “You don’t gotta worry about that part. Just trust me.”

Buck raises a brow, dubious. “Ok, but you need to promise you won’t say anything about my feelings to Eddie--or to anyone, for that matter. Not even Chimney can know.”

“I swear, not a word!”

*********

Albert strikes over the weekend, during a friendly game of basketball with the 118. Albert had originally only been intending to play one on one with Chim, like usual, but had convinced him to invite everyone at the station, too, last minute.

“Buck’s on my team!” Albert declares, before anyone can even truly get settled.

Chim glares at Albert. “Oh yeah, call dibs on our tallest guy.”

Albert shrugs, throwing an arm around Buck and pulling him close. “And let’s not forget the most handsome.” he winks at Buck with the subtlety of a fire engine racing across town.

Chim raises a questioning brow at his brother but otherwise doesn’t comment. “Uh huh. Anyway, then I want Eddie on my team.”

Eddie steps up beside Chim, giving Buck a look. “Ready to get your ass handed to you?”

Buck scoffs. “I have the power of youth on my side, thanks.” he says, pointing to Albert.

Bobby clears his throat. “This is starting to feel a lot like a middle school gym class, where I’m picked last for teams.”

Hen bumps his fist in camaraderie. “Preach, Cap.”

“Hen, I call Hen!” Chimney immediately announces, practically dragging his best friend over to his side.

“Good, cause I was gonna pick Captain Nash anyway.” Albert sticks his tongue out.

Buck grins when Bobby walks over to stand beside him. His parents never let him play sports when he was a kid--he had to forge their signatures for whatever ‘dangerous’ activity he wanted to participate in, and so he and his dad had never gotten to toss the ball around in the backyard the way most of his friends had, growing up.

Being on the same team with Bobby now kind of feels like that. Not that he’d say it out loud. He’s way too old for that stuff now. Not to mention the fact that now he has to focus on both the game and on whatever Albert is plotting with him and Eddie.

Buck sighs. He should’ve kept his big mouth shut.

The game starts out friendly enough, some playful jabs thrown here and there, but Buck can tell Albert and Chimney are out for blood, knocking elbows and teasing the other when they miss a shot. Though, he concedes, they are siblings, and well, he and Maddie, even at this age, can still get a little overly zealous when competing with one another. So he’s not too worried.

They take a break about half way through the game, sweaty and tired from running around so much, when Albert starts to speak. “Man, I can’t wait for that double date next Friday.”

Chim glances up at him from the bench, where he’s rehydrating. “You’re going on a date? First I’ve heard.”

Albert nods. “Yup. With Buck and these two really cool chicks I met at the coffee shop a couple of weeks ago.”

Eddie furrows his brows. “Did you say Friday?”

Albert nods, knowing exactly where this is going.

Eddie turns to Buck, who’s trying his best to telepathically communicate with Albert to cut it out before he strangles the kid. “Uh, Friday’s game night.” he says, his tone slightly accusatory.

Bobby’s eyes dart between the two men curiously. Hen presses her lips together. “Game night?”

Eddie nods. “Every Friday we get together at my place and do a game night. Christopher looks forward to ‘em every week.”

Albert cuts in before Buck can say anything. “Wow, you two sound like a married couple with a kid.” he teases. “But I mean, what’s the big deal, missing one game night? Buck could meet the love of his life Friday night. Isn’t that a little more important?”

Eddie makes a face none of the crew can really read. “Guess you’re right.” he agrees reluctantly, picking up the ball and passing it to Chimney just a tad on the rough side. “Break’s over, let’s get back to it, yeah?” He steps out into the court without looking back, his shoulders set rigidly.

Albert grins at Buck, whispering as the others head to the court as well, “It’s working!”

“He looks like he wants to kill someone.” Buck half whispers back, eyes wide. “Your plan sucks.”

“Shh, you’ll be thanking me later, now c’mon, let’s go!” Albert runs into the court and takes his position at the front, between Buck and Bobby.

Buck can’t help but focus entirely on Eddie’s sour mood during the game, which is probably why he doesn’t notice the uneven asphalt as he goes to catch Bobby’s toss until it’s too late. He loses his footing and goes down hard.

Buck’s back and side hit the pole connected to the basketball net and the damn thing actually shakes with the force of the collision. Bobby is on him instantly, helping him up and asking if he’s alright. Buck tries to say he’s fine, but the moment he’s standing he bends over, wrapping an arm around himself, wincing in pain. “Hurts.” he admits.

Eddie sprints across the ball court to help Bobby get Buck to the benches where he can sit and they can see what’s going on. Hen lifts his shirt and grimaces tightly at the humongous ugly bruise already forming against his back and part of his chest. “Jesus, Buck.” she feels around that area.

Buck gasps at the onslaught of pain and tries his best not to flinch away from her.

“Definitely some bruised ribs, Buck,” Hen tells him sympathetically, pulling down his shirt as gently as she can. “Possibly fractured. I would definitely get this checked out in the ER, in case they’re broken. They’ll need to do an x-ray and a CT just to rule it out.”

Buck groans. “Can’t I just ice it?”

“C’mon,” Bobby shakes his head, helping Buck get up. “I’m taking you--”

Eddie interrupts, his hand on Buck’s shoulder. “I can go. Christopher’s at a sleepover today, so I’m free anyway.” he volunteers.

Buck is in too much pain to argue with either of them, and ends up in the front passenger seat of Eddie’s truck. Bobby makes Eddie promise to text the team updates.

**********

Eddie fills out Bucks form so he can hold an ice pack to his side while they wait in the ER. Once he’s done he hands it to the nurse at the front desk and sits down next to Buck. “How ya’ feeling?”

Buck knows there isn’t a point to lying, not when he needed to lean the majority of his weight on the other man from the car to the waiting room, after all. “Like the whole left side of me got hit by a car.”

“Here, gimme that, I’ll hold it for you.” Eddie takes the ice pack and places it gently against his side, grimacing when Buck cringes. “Hurt a lot?”

“Only when I breath.” Buck jokes, though it’s not too far from the truth. “You know you don’t have to stay here with me, I can call an Uber to drive me home. The place is packed, we’re probably gonna be waiting for hours.”

Eddie rolls his eyes. “I’m not leaving you, so this had better be your first and last attempt at getting me to go.”

Buck sighs. “Fine.”

“Good.” Eddie clears his throat. “So...”

Buck turns his eyes towards him. “So?”

“You’re really not coming to game night Friday?”

Buck looks away. He doesn’t want to lie to Eddie, but how crazy would he look if he told him Albert made all that up--in order to admit the truth he’d also have to confess his feelings for his best friend, and there’s just no way in hell that’s happening. “Yeah,” he says instead, “Sorry, I was planning on telling you later today, it just kinda slipped my mind.”

Eddie hums, pursing his lips. “No it’s cool, Albert’s right. She might be the one.” he says, though it’s said dryly.

Buck looks up at him from underneath his long lashes, curiously. “And uh, if she is?”

“Then,” Eddie shrugs, “Good for you.”

Buck nods.

An uncomfortable silence falls upon the two men and it’s another half hour of awkwardness before Eddie picks up the conversation again.

“You know what,” he starts, turning to Buck, “I lied. Not good for you.”

Buck blinks at the bluntness. “What?”

“I don’t want you to go on that date. And I don’t want to cancel game night. I know it’s selfish and I’m being kind of psycho right now, but I think I’m jealous?” Eddie’s mouth snaps shut, as though he hadn’t meant to say any of that out loud. Like the words simply spilled forth without his brains permission.

“You’re jealous? Of...what?” Buck doesn’t dare to hope this is what he thinks it is.

Eddie groans, putting down the ice pack for a moment and turning his chair completely to the side so he can face Buck fully. “I know I said Christopher looks forward to game nights, and he does, but so do I. I look forward to spending time with the two of you together and I get excited when our shifts line up on certain weeks and I’m getting tired of saying goodnight and watching you walk to your Jeep, all because I’m too much of a coward to just say--” Eddie stops himself, his chest aching, the words caught in his throat.

“I’m in love with you.” Buck blurts out.

“You--” Eddie stammers. “You are?” he asks in disbelief.

Buck gulps, his cheeks heating up. “For a while now, I think. I just...hadn’t realized until recently.” Dr. Copeland had been a huge part of figuring that out.

“Christ,” Eddie doesn’t waste a second more. He takes Bucks face in his hands and brings their foreheads together right then and there. “Can I...?”

Buck nods, their lips brushing slightly with the motion. “Please.”

Eddie kisses him, softly, tentatively, before pulling away just a bit. “I love you.” he confesses breathlessly.

Buck thinks his heart might actually burst out of his chest.

Man, Albert is never gonna let him hear the end of this.

#hurt/comfort #buddie #albert #buck #eddie #911 fox #4x02 coda #bobby #hen #chimney #fic #writing #hurt!buck #jealous!eddie #albert has zero chill #dr. copeland has her hands full w buck

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vannahfanfics · 5 years ago

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Like Father, Like Son

Author’s Note: Hi all, this is a rewrite, with permission, of FanFiction user AwarenessBringer’s story, A Different Partner. I found it to be an interesting take, so I hope you all enjoy it as well. :3

Category: General Fluff

Fandom: Bleach

Characters: Rangiku Matsumoto, Ichigo Kurosaki

Requested By: Awareness Bringer (FanFiction)

The cold night breeze ruffled the loose fabric of Rangiku’s death-black robes as she stood perched on the peak of a tall utility pole that cut through the charming but sprawling mass of Karakura Town. Though the diameter of the wound wooden structure was only a few inches or so, she balanced perfectly atop it, scanning the labyrinthine array of neighborhoods and business districts with hawk-like eyes. If one could see her, she wondered if they would mistake her for an assassin searching for her kill, or figure her a stoic sentry guarding over the sleepy little town by the river. Regardless, it did not matter, for no one could see Rangiku; she was a ghost, a specter, an invisible god of death. Rangiku did not come to this unassuming town for either purpose. She had come to find a man long missing- Isshin Shiba, her former superior in the parallel world, the Soul Society.

Isshin’s reasons for spiriting away to the world of the living had never been divulged to Rangiku. One day, he had just never returned, leaving the young, impressionable honey-haired girl to wonder of his absence. Rangiku could not imagine his motives for doing so. Being a captain of the Soul Reapers was but the highest honor, and yet he had seemingly tossed it aside on a whim. Rangiku had been searching for him for the longest time and had finally caught whispers of his residence in Karakura Town. She had never regularly patrolled here, but if she had, she would’ve known in an instant. As soon as she had traversed the gap between her world and this one, his massive spiritual energy had greeted her like an old friend, overwhelmingly strong but nevertheless gentle and embracing. Blue eyes narrowing slightly, she crouched down on the pole once she had homed in on the source of the emanating spiritual energy.

Isshin… Why did you leave without saying good-bye?

With a single bounding leap, Rangiku shot into the sky. Her light, unseen form landed softly in the grassy yard of a quaint medical clinic. Rangiku’s eyebrows crept up her head at the thought of the irresponsible and free-spirited Isshin handling the responsibilities of being a physician. It seemed the clinic also doubled as a residence, given by its layout and the soft yellow light burning in the windows. Rangiku’s sandals scraped against the asphalt driveway as she approached the dwelling, peering through one of the windows to see a tastefully decorated living room. No one was currently there, prompting her to phase through the wall to step into the room. Curious as to how the man was now living, she poked around the room a bit, stopping by an end table when a photograph seated there caught her eye. She put her hands and leaned over to inspect it.

In the photograph was unmistakably Isshin, with a big, beaming grin and that thick dark hair and beard that always suited him so well. Seated beside him was a beautiful young woman with soft, motherly eyes and wavy caramel hair. Seated on her lap was a little boy with a shock of unnaturally orange hair, while Isshin was holding two baby girls, one who favored her mother and one who favored her father, in his big, muscular arms. Rangiku smiled forlornly as she brushed her fingers over the smooth glass of the photograph.

“I see… So you fell in love.” Rangiku’s bittersweet mood was instantly overtaken by the cold rush of adrenaline as hostile intent invaded the small space, and she was only just able to throw up her arm to block the savage kick that was about to be delivered to the side of her head. The force still sent her sliding several feet across the wooden floor of the building, and her forearm stung numbly at the area where the sole of a shoe was imprinted in dust into the fabric of her clothes. She lowered it slightly to see that same orange-haired boy, only a tall, scowling teenager now with his long leg still hoisted up from where he had kicked her.

“Who the hell are you and what are you doing in my living room?” he shouted with an accusing point of his finger. Now that the initial shock had worn off, the gears started whirling wildly in Rangiku’s head. She was in her spirit form; there was no way that this boy could see her, let alone kick her! Yet, his ferocious glare was directed at her and her alone. Could it be possible that he somehow inherited some of Isshin’s monstrous spiritual energy? Sure enough, if she concentrated, she found that the amount contained in that lithe frame of his was much greater than a normal human’s. With a lofty sigh, Rangiku brushed the dusty imprint from her arm.

“So, you see ghosts, I take it? That has to be a right pain in the ass, I imagine.”

“You damn right, and it’s an even bigger pain in my ass when they invade the sanctity of my own home to beg me to sort out their unfinished business!” the boy groused hotly. It seemed he had realized that she was a spirit of some sort, so he lowered his foot to the floor. “Whatchu want, lady? Can’t it wait until after dinner?”

“Who’s Ichigo talking to in there?” chimed a sing-song girl’s voice from what Rangiku surmised was the kitchen.

“He’s probably being bugged by some ghost again. Let him handle it,” came another girl’s voice, more monotone and grumpier than the other’s. Ah, so those must be Isshin’s daughters…

“I’m here to see your father, actually, Isshin Kurosaki. Can you bring him in here to speak to me?” Rangiku had learned pretty much all she needed to know, but there was no way she was leaving without speaking to him a little. The boy frowned in befuddlement at her as he dug into one of his ears with his pinky finger. He reminds me a lot of Isshin…

“My old man can’t see ghosts.” This made Rangiku’s eyes take on the form of dinner saucers. Had something occurred to rob Isshin of his spiritual powers? She had been sure that she had felt his spiritual energy… Rangiku momentarily wondered if it had been the boy- Ichigo’s- spiritual energy instead, but surely that could not be possible; a human simply couldn’t contain enough spiritual energy to rival a Soul Reaper’s, especially not a high-ranking officer’s! Rangiku considered leaving for a moment, but luck was on her side; with a deranged howl, the man she had come to Karakura Town to see came flying through the entryway, poised to drop-kick Ichigo in the back of the head. With an angry shout, the boy just narrowly ducked, and Isshin flew the rest of the way across the living room to bury himself calf-deep into the drywall. He hung there awkwardly for a moment while Rangiku gawked in utter disbelief. Who the hell tried to casually drop-kick their son?! “You crazy old man!” Ichigo shouted from where he was crouched shielding his skull. “You’re gonna kill me one day, you know that?!”

“Well, who else is gonna keep you one your toes?” the man laughed good-naturedly while extracted his leg from the large, gaping hole he had just put into the wall. He sighed lightly as he began brushing sheetrock dust from his pressed slacks.

“Who says I need to be kept on my toes?! And who the hell is gonna fix that hole in the wall, ‘cuz it sure ain’t gonna be me!” Ichigo continued yelling as he straightened up and crossed his arms in a downright furious glare. His eyes flashed to the shell-shocked Rangiku before returning to his dumbass of a father. “Oh, by the way, there’s a lady ghost here to see you. She’s a blonde, dressed funny in this black robe thing, got a katana hangin’ at her waist.”

“Hey!” Rangiku cried indignantly at his less-than-flattering depiction of her. The boy just shrugged and waved a hand dismissively.

“Oh?” Isshin asked and looked at the area where he surmised Rangiku was standing, but it was so spot-on that for a moment, she couldn’t believe that he couldn’t see her at all. He looked back at his son with a positively devilish grin and said no words, only juggled his hands in a gesture that very obviously commented on her gracious endowments. Ichigo turned a bright shade of pink and began yelling at him again, while Rangiku wished dearly that she could clock him into next week.

“I can’t hit him, so do it for me, will you?” she requested grumpily of his flustered and mortified teenage son while rubbing her temples.

It wasn’t like she could spill everything about Soul Reapers and the Soul Society to the young human boy, so she explained just enough for his own curiosity to be satisfied. It was quite obvious that Isshin did not wish for his son to know about his former Soul Reaper status, so Rangiku lied, stating that she had known him in human life and she was simply here to see how he was doing. With Ichigo serving as her interpreter, she conversed amiably with Isshin. Ultimately, she was content with his current state of being. He seemed genuinely happy and loved his family very much. His happiness was plenty enough for Rangiku.

She was about to bid adieu to the young man and his father when her Hollow tracker suddenly began beeping alarmingly in her pocket. When she whipped it out to find it quite on top of them, she hadn’t even the time to warn Isshin or Ichigo before the living room wall exploded into splinters. Isshin scrambled to protect his terrified and screaming little girls while Ichigo bowled over the couch, knocking it over and landing roughly to just narrowly avoid the creature’s sharp claws as they tried to rip his bowels open. Rangiku whipped out her sword and managed to take the fight with the Hollow outside, but she very soon became unmatched. Lying in the street with blood gushing from an open wound in her abdomen, she groaned and crawled towards the wrecked house as the Hollow sought to devour Ichigo’s monstrous spiritual energy. The orange-haired boy came crashing out of a bedroom window into the street, panting wildly and running over to Rangiku.

“What the hell are you gonna do now?!” he hissed as he helped the weak, bleeding woman to her knees. “Get up and fight, or my family is gonna die! I don’t have the power to fight that thing!” Rangiku’s eyes were heavy and lidded as she struggled to remain conscious.

“I can’t,” she moaned as she pressed a hand into her wound. Hot, sticky blood gushed through the gaps of her fingers to paint her hand in the crimson substance. Her blue eyes flickered to Ichigo. “I’ll loan you my powers, just long enough for you to take out that monster! There’s no time to think; either you will or you won’t!” Ichigo swallowed thickly, staring at her with wide eyes, before nodding firmly.

“Your name, first.”

“Hehe. It’s Rangiku Matsumoto.”

Things didn’t go according to plan. His spiritual energy was far higher than anything she could have imagined, so he ended up stealing all her powers right then and there. They would return, with time, but there was no way that Rangiku could return to the Soul Society in such a state. Thus, she was forced to remain in the human world for the time being. It wasn’t all bad; since Ichigo had her powers now, she was all but forced to train him to be a Soul Reaper, but he really had a knack for it. In addition, she transferred to his high school and was gushed over by all the cute little high school boys (much to Ichigo’s chagrin).

Still, despite everything, Rangiku really liked having Ichigo as a partner, even if only temporary. It reminded her very much of her hayday with his father, who was so like him but so different in many ways.

Enjoy this oneshot? Feel free to peruse my Table of Contents!

#bleach #ichigo kurosaki #isshin kurosaki #rangiku matsumoto #general fluff #au #alternate universe #non-canon compliant #fluff #bleach fanfiction #bleach fanfic #friendship

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huangels · 6 years ago

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ha, that's funny cause you're in a witch costume - witch!haechan

a/n: i was gonna write more in haechan’s POV but i didn’t want this to be too long since it’s already 3k (i say this all the time but pls ignore typos bc i’m a blind bitch)

genre: fluff + humor

word count: 3.3k

"I wonder if the ice cream shop is open this late."

The frills of your red and black pirate costume casually sway from the winds of the late October night. You're lucky the costume set came with striped tights to keep your legs protected and warm from the biting cold weather. It would be a lot colder if it weren't for the group of three energetic friends walking beside you. Thanks walking heat bags.

"Probably closed by now, it's Halloween, Y/N," Renjun responds, pushing his glasses up. The breeze picks up once again, it blows dramatically on his black wizard's robe and blue scarf.

"That sucks, everything's closed." Jeno kicks at the loose gravel on the asphalt road, his Batman mask covering most of his vision. "What do we do now?"

"How about we play a little game I like to call, Truth or Dare?" Jaemin pops up from behind, swinging his arms around Renjun and you. The ninja sword sticking out of his back knocks into the back of your head, in which you return a playful smack on Jaemin's side.

"You dumbass, everyone calls it Truth or Dare," Renjun asserts, throwing Jaemin's limp arm off of his shoulders.

"Well, how about it, then?"

The four of you agree since almost all of the houses around are stripped of candy and ready for bed. You guys trick-or-treated for a while but only got the smallest amount of candy since apparently you guys are 'too old for Halloween.' Abandoning the traditional Halloween custom, you four walk around town, finding anything to do to pass the time. Now it is almost 10:30 PM and you are still out and about in town. Somehow, your parents are okay with this.

You rock, paper, and scissors to pick who goes first, resulting in the loss of Jeno. He chooses truth once Jaemin asks the main question.

"Where is the strangest place you have peed?"

"Jaemin, what the fuck?"

The rest of the group laughs as Jeno scowls at the younger, "I don't fucking know."

"Nope, you gotta say it," Jaemin pokes Jeno's nose with a sly smirk. Jeno looks at you and Renjun for help but the both of you shrug in response. It's truth or dare, you gotta do what you gotta do.

Jeno grumbles before taking a minute to recall, "I think it was in a bush while I was camping last summer."

"Wait, I know this story. You have to tell the rest!" Renjun urges the already embarrassed Jeno. Jaemin and you stare with big puppy eyes, waiting for Jeno to continue the story.

"Huh... Long story short, I peed in a bush where a family of skunks was living and they sprayed me... while I was in my most vulnerable position," Jeno explains, defeated.

You choke back a snicker but the other two has already let out their heaviest laugh. Through your stifled laughter, you tease the latter, "wait, Jeno... The skunks sprayed your- dick?"

Without saying anything, Jeno replies with a slight nod, the tips of his cheeks burnt as red as Jaemin's ninja costume.

"Jeno sprayed the skunks- and they sprayed back!" Jaemin nearly has tears in his eyes, latching onto Renjun's shoulder for stability as the shorter hunches over to stop his stomach from hurting. You take refuge by a pole of a street light, gripping it with all of your might and trying not to topple over in laughter.

"Just continue with the damn game. Renjun, truth or dare."

The game continues with more embarrassing truths, since no one is brave enough to choose a dare. Your turn comes up next, high on sugar and laughter, you decide to be the first to choose a dare.

Jaemin's eyes widen in excitement as Renjun looks around the premise, coming up with a dare. "Y/N, I dare you to enter that store and buy something."

Your line of sight follows Renjun's finger, leading to a small, dark store. It stands alone in the middle of two large shopping plazas across the street. The windows, bordered with intricate lacey designs, are tinted black so that you can't see the inside. The aura the shop exudes causes a shiver to run down your backside. You wouldn't have been able to tell if it's open or closed if it isn't for the light-up sign that reads, "Mystik Hex."

"Guys...I don't think it's even opened," you lie with a nervous chuckle.

Jeno slaps your back, pushing you across the abandoned road, "You got this!"

"Don't be a pussy, Y/N!" you hear Jaemin yell as your hands land on the door handle, which is a smooth purple orb. The glass door is tinted black just like the windows, a deep purple curtain decorated on the outside. It's tied up at both ends revealing the name of the shop again, in a fancy but eerie font. Before opening the shop, you take one more glance back at your friends. In case I die in here, at least I know who to haunt.

With your eyes shut, you slowly swing open the door. You don't expect that the first thing to hit you is the warmness of the shop, compared to the harsh fall weather. After the warmness comes the obscure fragrance of the shop, lemons and roses.

You open your eyes, one then the other, to take in your surroundings. As dark as the outer appearance seems, the inside is much more welcoming. The walls are painted a dark beige and lined along them are shelves stacked with boxes and jars labeled the strangest things. In the middle of the shop sits a glass display case, revealing an arrangement of jewelry and ornaments. Hanging from the ceiling is a variety of dreamcatchers, of all sizes, designs, and colors. And in the middle of the ceiling hangs a large candle-lit chandelier. Speakers hidden somewhere around the store plays soothing 80's jazz music.

"Can you close the door, it's cold?" A voice sounds from the back of the shop. You close your mouth, not knowing it fell wide as soon as your eyes opened. You step into the shop, letting the door close behind you with a tinkle of the welcoming bell.

"May I help you with something?" the same voice calls. You slowly make your way around the glass display, eyes wandering all over the store as there is a lot to take in.

Finally, you arrive at the back counter, meeting the sight of a witch (well, someone dressed as a witch), holding a magazine in her hands with a lollipop stick hanging from her lips. The tilt of the hat restricts you from getting a good look at her face and the magazine in her hands.

"Um, what's the- cheapest thing in here?" you hesitate, not knowing if the employee is listening. The latter lowers the magazine, eyeing you up and down as she switches the lollipop to the other side of her mouth.

Finally, the employee tilts her hat back to reveal...a male.

༄

[Earlier that day]

"Haechan!"

"Hae-!"

"What? What? What do you want?" a boy appears from the back room, pushing the beaded curtains to the side of the entryway. His hands are stained with a dark blue color.

"Remember, you're gonna be running this shop today by yourself. Open up at 12 PM and please remember to close at 12 PM. We don't want a repeat of what happened last time...," Yuta, the owner of the witch shop, lectures the younger. Small bottles of dried up leaves and colorful liquids magically enter into his messenger bag with a wave of his hands, surrounded by a haze of purple.

"By the way, Happy Halloween. I left your costume by the cash register. You better wear it or I'm gonna fire you."

Haechan rolls his eyes away from the entrance and towards the stool behind the counter. A plastic bag sits on the chair, with a picture of a female's witch costume on the front of the bag.

"Oh, for fuck's sake." Haechan picks up the bag, turning it around to see if Yuta is actually being serious.

He is.

On the back of the plastic bag is a sticky note with Yuta's scribbled handwriting on it, "I got security cameras in here."

Haehcan makes direct eye contact with a security camera to the right of the counter, pulling a middle finger out for Yuta to see later. The yellow sticky note floats above his flat palm before it burns into nothingness.

"Dressing up like a stereotypical witch is so embarrassing when you're an actual witch," Haechan thinks to himself. "But I know Yuta will give me shit for months if I don't put this on."

Entering the back room, Haechan slips into the purple and black dress, not even surprised that it fits perfectly (and that it matches the aesthetics of the shop). He ties the cheap corset around his waist and plops the bent hat on top of his head. Then, exits out of the room, back to the camera.

"Jokes on you, shithead. No one comes into this shop anyway."

༄

A male? In a female's witch costume? I mean it is 2018, and fuck gender roles.

"What did you say?" the boy squints his black-lined eyes at you. Your eyes travel down to his name tag, Haechan.

Even his name is just as intimidating as his appearance is. His dark brown eyes are smudged with black eyeliner with a touch of red shadowing. His lips are coated with a deep red tint and a sparkly gloss over them. His ears are lined with silver piercings, he even has a piercing on the right nostril of his nose. His hair is dyed a honey brown with highlights of pinks, blues, and greens. Loosely holding onto the magazine, the boy's fingers bears many intricate rings, but the uncanniest thing about them is that he has complex markings on the back side of his hand.

"Um- What's the cheapest thing in here?" you repeat with a gulp.

Haechan pulls out the lollipop with a pop noise and points it at you, "what is this, some kind of prank? Because I'm not in the mood."

"Well, actually kind of. It's a dare from my friends."

"Your friends dared you to come in here- and buy the cheapest thing?"

"Basically."

Haechan returns to his magazine, which now you can see clearly it's for magical spells, and points to the far corner of the shop, "Those rocks are $5."

You look at the small cauldron of differently shaped rocks and colored crystals, which are actually pretty cool and seem to glow in an unusual way. You dig around in the cauldron before selecting a violet-colored crystal.

"I'll have this one," you announce as you place the small gem on the table.

The latter glances at the crystal placed on the counter, "Ah an amethyst. A remedial stone."

You tilt your head in curiosity, not knowing that rocks can have meanings behind it. Haechan takes this as a sign to continue.

"The gemstone amethyst is helpful in purifying the mind and relieving it of negative thoughts. This includes the negativity of stress and anxiety, which is why many people meditate with amethyst so as to rid themselves of that darkness," Haechan explains, the magazine now forgotten on the counter as he continues to expand on the significance of the gem.

You lean in, interested to learn what other aspects the amethyst holds. As the boy talks, you feel drawn in as if compelled to keep listening to him. The way the magical words leave his tongue makes the meaning of the stone more interesting. It seems like Haechan really enjoys learning about these magical elements as his eyes ignite throughout the explanation. The more you stare, the more Haechan intrigues you. There's something about him, the burning fire and shimmering stars in his eyes, both calm and stormy.

You can't help but let out a soft, "Wow..."

Haechan chuckles at your awed state, picking up the stone. Somehow it glows even brighter in his hands. "You know, I can put this into an accessory for you."

"Oh, thank you but I only have $7 with me," you avert your eyes, feeling a slight blush form on your cheeks.

"It's alright, it's on the house. The stone, too."

"Wait no, at least let me pay for that."

But Haechan has already disappeared behind the beaded curtains into the back room. You pull out the $7 and place it between the pages of where Haechan left off in his Magazine. You feel bad if you didn't pay for it and the dare is to buy something in this shop.

A few minutes pass by as you grow bored of just standing there, waiting for Haechan to return. So you roam around the shop some more, studying the different jars, candles, potions, and crates. They all hold specific items or ingredients, an explanation plastered on a note next to them.

Couple more minutes fly by but no sight of Haechan.

You make your way back to the counter, looking through the curtains. Bright explosions of purple and white lights puff from behind a slightly opened door. Out of curiosity, you peak through the crack.

What you see causes you to let out a gasp, knocking the door open.

Haechan stands by a large black cauldron, with purple and white smoke rising from the lavender-colored liquid. Hanging above the cauldron is a lever, lowering the gemstone into the mystery liquid.

Surrounding Haechan is a cloud of purple fumes. The markings you noticed earlier on his hands glow within his skin. He looks too concentrated in the cauldron, with his eyes closed, to notice you standing by the opened door. Though, you don't know if you should leave quietly or call to him. Either way, you can't do anything since your body isn't responding, leaving you frozen before him.

The fumes of deep purple whirl around, picking up speed before it comes to a full stop. The purple glow from the liquid dissipates, leaving the room dim since its only light source is a small ceiling light. Haechan's hands return to their normal state as he picks up the amethyst necklace, back facing you.

You still haven't made a noise or movement since barging into the room, hoping whatever magic is happening here can make you disappear from the shop forever. However, no magic is able to help the situation as Haechan turns on his feet with a smile and the necklace in his hand. But as soon as he meets eyes with you, he jumps back in panic, dropping the necklace. Yet, it stays floating in the air before returning to the palm of Haechan's left hand. You don't think you've even blinked since before this incident with how wide your eyes are right now. Neither of you dares to speak as you both don't know what to say.

The silence soon breaks with Haechan's distraught voice, "How long h-have you been standing there?"

"Uh, I saw the purple cloud thingy," you answer coarsely, though you know that isn't the best answer in this circumstance. "What was that? What are you?"

"I'm nothing. A human. Just a human. Yes." The way Haechan answers exposes his true nature.

"What are you?" you repeat with furrowed eyebrows, confused and slightly frightened. Is this how I die? I knew I would die the moment I followed up with the dare. Those pesky boys are so going to get a big haunting.

Haechan sighs, "I'm a witch."

"Ha, that's funny cause you're in a witch costume," you sarcastically respond, "No seriously, what are you?"

"Seriously, I'm a witch."

Haechan holds up his right hand, the black markings turning into a lustrous white as a swirl of purple smoke transform into a flame above his palm.

You stumble back into the door, not knowing how to react.

"Don't worry, I won't hurt you," the latter assures as the flame disperses into thin air.

Another silence flies by as you're still too stunned to function. A thousand thoughts squirming around in your head, trying to come up with some explanation.

Haechan moves forward to your frozen state, holding out the amethyst, "Here."

Your arm finally responds back and hesitantly raises to grasp it from his palm. You expect his palm to be burning hot from the flame but it's a normal bodily temperature. Though, you don't know what would be more unnerving. "Oh, thanks... for the necklace."

"Actually, it's not a necklace, it's an amulet."

You cock an eyebrow at the boy, "What's the difference?"

"Well, necklaces are just decoration, they hold no special abilities," Haechan takes back the amulet and connects it around your neck. "Amulets, on the other hand, are objects that are carried by or worn on a person that holds a specific energy or spell."

With how close Haechan is, you can feel his breath fan over your face as he explains the difference. Your voice drops to a whisper, "Then, what does this amulet hold?"

"Protective powers, as well as healing ones."

Your eyes meet his in awe but confusion, "protecting me from what?"

"Anything that's dangerous, Y/N."

"How do you know my name?" you break the contact between you two.

The ends of Haechan's mouth curves upwards, "I'm also psychic."

"Wait, really?" you bolt up in interest, eyes wide again.

"Nope," Haehcan pops the p, "I just heard you and your friends yelling outside of my shop earlier."

Your shoulders slump down, disappointed. Haechan leads you out of the back room, closing the door behind him. Before you can thank Haechan and speak a farewell, a group of yells enters the shop.

"What have you done with Y/N?"

"Where is she?"

"We're gonna kill you."

You realize it's Renjun, Jeno, and Jaemin barging into the store in their lame protective stances. Renjun holds his plastic wand out just as Jaemin holds his foam swords, Jeno just has his fists in front of him as if he really is Batman.

"Guys relax, I'm fine." You hurry them away from Haechan before they can embarrass you anymore.

"Who's the girl?" Jaemin points at Haechan, a smirk plastered on his face, sending a flirty wink to the latter.

"I think that's a dude, man," Jeno punches Jaemin's shoulder, stifling a snort.

You flash an apologetic smile at Haechan, harshly whispering for the guys to wait for you outside.

"Wait, that's a guy? Holy shit man, why are you in a girl's costu-." Jaemin gets interrupted by an electric zap sent from Haechan's finger to his butt. The younger jumps up from his stance, rubbing the back of his butt with an 'ow.'

"Let's get out of here, Y/N hurry before he kills us all."

Renjun pulls along your arm as you wave goodbye to Haechan. I'll come back, you whisper in your head, hoping Haechan has some type of magical power to read it.

༄

"Is this...a jar of eyeballs?" you place the glass jar on the table with your tongue sticking out. "Gross."

"It's frog eye but yes," Haechan hums, too focused on the potion he's mixing up in the back room. You're seated by a small table juxtaposed with the caldron, handing Haechan the ingredients and herbs he needs from the shelves of mysterious items. It hasn't been long since you've started working in the witch shop.

"What do you even need that for?" you question, wiping your hands on the black apron tied around your waist.

"All sorts of things," Haechan briefly answers, mumbling for the Burdock Arctium Minus.

You hand him a jar of the purple spiky plants, "and what are you making now?"

"A love potion."

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randombtsprincessa · 6 years ago

Text

Asylum || 1

Author: Randombtsprincessa

Characters: Kim Namjoon x Reader

Summary: After the death of your best friend, you are little more than a shell of who you were. Transferred to a Shelter, you meet a man who teaches you that maybe there is more to live for.

Warning: This is going to be dark story. Lots of mentions of Hospitals, Death, Mental Illnesses, Drugs, etc. If any of the following Warnings bother you, please don’t read. Reader Discretion Advised.

Warning in-Chapter: Car Accident, Hospitalisation, Character Death.

The night was silent, almost deafeningly so as the cold weather made almost everyone seek shelter within the warmth of their own homes. Almost everyone, as there were still people walking about at night, thinking, probably enjoying the cold breeze, as they thought about things personal to them.

As one such person turned a street corner, she stopped, her eyes widening, her mouth falling open in a silent gasp before with quick steps she hurried closer to what had pulled her out of her mind.

On the other side of the street, lay a car, on its roof, the tires still.

The woman rushed in closer to inspect the horrifying scene. The windows were smashed inside, delicate glass layering the floor and the interior like snow. The windshield had somehow survived.

Even as the woman fumbled into her coat pocket for her phone, she could hear the low, pained groan coming from inside the vehicle.

Dialing for the ambulance she held up the phone to her ear, crouching down to see who was inside.

It was a girl and a boy, young, too young to be trapped in the car on a night like this, she decided as the operator answered. In a flurry, she relayed the details of what had happened, who it involved and where they were. The operator told her to stay alert and with the injured and that an ambulance was fifteen minutes from where they were before hanging up.

The woman slipped the phone back in her pocket before looking at the person closest to her. They were both hanging loosely by their seatbelts, indicating they hadn’t been wilding about on the night streets if they were responsible enough to put their seatbelts on.

The girl, her hand fallen out of the window was the one whimpering, her eyes fluttering as her cut and bleeding face twitched in pain.

“Shh…you’ll be fine, you’ll be ok, I promise…” the woman said helplessly.

She knew there was a chance they might not make it but she tried not to think about that. They weren’t all that hurt even if they were both bleeding and not in the most comfortable position but she couldn’t bring herself to touch them, fearing she’d do more harm than good.

The girl stirred again, making the woman fear she’d fall off but then the girl opened her eyes, a panicky dazed look in her eyes. She looked around wildly, before fixing the woman with her hazy gaze.

“I called an ambulance, you’ll be fine.” The woman reassured immediately but the girl was shaking, her hand moving as if she would pull it in closer to herself but she winced at the action and then let it go, instead tears soon joined the blood streaks, pooling near her nose line.

“I’m scared,” she whispered brokenly and the woman felt her heart break at the sheer terror in it. “I know, we’ll get you out soon…don’t worry…”

Without another word the girl turned her head towards the passenger, her sobs increasing.

“Kook…” she whispered.

“Jungkook, please, wake up…please,” she began to earnestly cry when the woman heard the ambulance approaching.

“You’ll be fine. The ambulance is here.” She said one last time but all she got from the girl was another whisper of her friend’s name…

The gurneys rattled down the halls, nurses and doctors yelling out instructions to each other as the girl and boy were pushed to separate operating theatres.

The woman who’d ridden with them was questioned closely before the families began to arrive, worried and scared.

“My son…what happened to my son?” the boy’s mother asked as the father wrapped an arm around his wife, looking drawn. They were soon joined by more questions put off until one of the doctors announced the end result.

Pain was the first thing I felt, after that cold and then the feeling of being constricted…

My eyes fluttered open to an uncomfortably bright light and too much white. I flinched instinctively, shutting my eyes tightly before opening them again, slower this time.

All around me I could hear mindless beeps, drips and there was also a burning smell of disinfectant and medicine in my nostrils…

Was I in a…hospital?

I looked around as much as I could without straining my neck when I realized it was put in a brace and that my arm was bound to my body while both my legs were in a cast.

The large scared whimper that escaped me was soon followed by hot tears.

I wanted out; I wanted to sit up…what was happening? Where was everyone?

I began to struggled against the wires and tubes wrapped around me but pain immediately shot up through my body, making me cry even harder.

“Miss Y/L/N, you’re awake!”

I looked up to see a black haired man in a doctor’s coat standing in the doorway, his eyes widening when he saw the displaced instruments around me. He immediately rushed in, gently relocating me higher up on the bed before putting everything back how it was.

“Forgive me, I didn’t think you’d wake up that fast…you need your rest after what you’ve been through.” He said, moving the end of the bed and picking up a clip board. “Miss Y/N, Y/L/N…my name is Dr. Seokjin, you may call me Jin.” He smiled kindly at me.

“What…what happened?” I croaked.

The doctor bit his lip, the smile becoming a little forced but it stayed on as he watched me. “You were in an accident. A rather nasty one, I might add, you’re…lucky…to be alive. Do you remember anything from it?” he asked.

I blinked rapidly as my mind tried to rewind itself, thinking of hours prior.

“You’re such a moron.”

Jungkook laughed, nudging my shoulder. “You would know,” he chortled.

“Hey, I’m not the one who decided to actually go up on the dare. It was silly, you should’ve just said no. You didn’t actually have to it.” I said.

“Aww, is wee little Y/N jealous I made out with a hot girl?” he asked.

“No but, Wee little Y/N is definitely going to kick your ass if you keep spouting crap.” I rolled my eyes.

There was a pause, silent and comfortable.

“You know,” he began, “I wouldn’t mind…if you were a little…jealous.” He said.

I shot him a look, “What?”

“You know, we’ve been best friends for a while now and we get teased a lot anyways.”

“Jungkook…”

“So, why not just make it real?”

“You can’t be serious. When did this happen?” I yelled.

“It’s ok if you don’t want to, I mean, I get it, I can be a dork sometimes and,”

“Answer my fucking question, Jeon.”

He sighed.

“A few months ago…”

I waited.

“14 months ago,”

“That’s more than a year, Kook.” I whispered.

“I know, I’m sorry, I was just scared.”

I turned to look at him. My best friend, Jeon Jungkook, was telling me he had liked me for more than a year. How had I missed that? Of course, he never made it obvious. The handsome, rabbit-like muscular boy had always been happy-go-lucky, rarely serious and only occasionally protective. He had never said anything when I dated…which wasn’t all that much and he had gone on plenty dates himself…what had changed?

“You need to watch the road, Y/N.” he said. I quickly looked to the front.

“I am,”

“No, you weren’t, you were staring at me,” he said, smirking over at me.

“No I wasn’t,” I spat out, turning to give him the dirtiest look I could manage but in that split second, he turned his face to look at the road and then everything slowed down.

His eyes popped wide open, mouth falling to scream out, “Y/N look out!” and his hands shot out to grab at the wheel.

I didn’t even see it coming before a with a loud crash, the car went tumbling, hitting its edge off at the light pole and skidding off the side of the pavement, turning and turning till all I could hear was the sound of metal hitting asphalt, glass smashing and then nothing…

“Miss Y/L/N…Y/N; are you ok? Do you remember?” Jin’s voice brought me back but hot tears had already welled up again, pooling near my eyes.

“My…friend…my best friend, he was with me in the car…Jungkook, how is he? How badly is he hurt? Can I see him?” I asked desperately.

Dr. Jin cleared his throat, clicking his pen as he blatantly ignored my question.

“Well, I see you’re coherent enough; I will call your relatives and you can see them, ok? Rest well,” he said, moving to the door.

“Dr. Seokjin, my friend…” I called again.

He sighed. “I really don’t think this is the time you should be stressing yourself, Y/N. you need to focus on healing yourself.” He said.

“Goddamn it, just tell me, how bad is he?” I asked, my voice rising hysterically.

Oh my god, it couldn’t be that bad could it? We were both wearing seatbelts. He couldn’t be that badly hurt. He couldn’t…please, God, he shouldn’t…

Jin chewed on the inside of his cheek as he contemplated before turning to look at me, the grim look in his eyes already making my heart slide down to the pit of my stomach.

“I am very sorry, Miss Y/N but Jeon Jungkook passed away two hours ago.”

#namjoon fanfic #namjoon angst #namjoon smut #namjoon #bts #bts smut #bts fanfic #bts angst #bts namjoon #bts rm #asylum

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the-goddess-of-change · 7 years ago

Photo

Requested. The sound of thunder roars across the skies as i look out onto the pouring rain drinking my cup of coffee and thank myself i'm not out there I look up at the blue skies to see the skies light up as yet another lightning rides across the sky as the thunder roars It is already late at night and the storm shows no sign of stopping i walk back to my chair and sit down as i take a sip of the coffee and put it down on the table next to me The sound of thunder...the flash of lightning and the pouring rain, it makes it all feel quite...calming the rain is hitting my windows but i just feel at ease as i close my eyes and listen to it ...... ....... i wake up to the sound of two cars honking as i see its sunny outside i guess i must have fallen asleep i think to myself as i notice the cup of coffee is still next to me i stand up and pour out the coffee in the sink as i stretch my arms and start brewing another batch of coffee I yawn as i do as i spot the mail from my kitchen window i look at the coffee brewer which is still well bellow the middle as i step outside and pick up the mail as my feet hit something i look down as i spot a small ring i lean down and pick it up as i look at it some more it has a sorta dirty look to it, like its been lying under dirt for ages i put it in my pocket and walk back inside and turn of the coffee machine and pour myself a cup of coffee i take the ring out of my pocket and put it under the sink and start cleaning it i keep cleaning it but it still has a bit of a dirty look to it as i just put some warm water in a cup and drop the glass inside as i keep sipping my coffee I walk over the living room and sit down as i turn on the tv but it just shows static...probably thanks to the lightning storm last night i sigh to myself as i finish up my cup of coffee and head to the bathroom to brush my teeth and do some laundry After i am done with the laundry i go back and look at the ring as it still look dirty i remove it from the glass of water and look at the ring as i try to put it on my finger and to my surprise it actually fits as well ''Huh...look at that'' i say to myself as i think to myself that maybe i should pawn it i nod but before that i have to take a shower i think as i walk back to the bathroom and turn on the shower and step inside the warm water hits my face and rolls down my back as i start scrubbing myself with some shampoo then washing it out as i turn of the shower and dry my hair quickly and put on a new change of clothes as i decide to head to the pawn shop i put on my shoes and walk outside as something shakes...or not really shakes but...it feels like...im moving but im standing still there is a small flash of light as i close my eyes once i slowly open my eyes back up i look outside and i cannot belive what i see...instead of the usual cars parked on the road...there is no cars...the houses looks...newer somewhat but still very...old the road is made of cobblestone instead of asphalt Several people are outside walking, one man wearing a suit with a woman wearing a yellow dress while the man is smoking a cigar and top hat the woman has short red hair that is curled up towards her head and she is wearing very...distinctive old timey clothing i rub my eyes a few times as i step forward out into the street to see the small shop nearby looks completely different as there is one of those barbershop poles by the door and its full of smoke inside ''What the hell?'' i say to myself as i look around and looks around as i hear a weird strange sounding noise as one of those old timey cars drive past me going reasonably slow... i look around as a gust of wind blows something onto my feet i look down and pick up the piece of paper that looks like a newspaper as i read it ''June...1942...hottest weather of the year...'' ''Wait...1942?!'' i yell as i read it again as a man wearing a suit walks over to me and blows some smoke out from his mouth from the cigar ''hello there good sir, thank you so so much for grabbing my newspaper, Damn thing blew out of my hand while i was reading it'' he laughs as i hand it to him ''Huh but my good sir, you look mighty strange wearing that Garb...say it is foreign perhaps ? say those people come up with new things all the time'' He laughs at me and walks away ''W-Wait!'' i yell at him as i walk over He looks at me with a confused look ''Ah...sir, is something the matter?'' ''Ah...kinda yeah...uh...what year is it ?'' ''You must be joking, its 1942 of course! you should really read a newspaper, it only costs 2 cents over by Timothy's generals'' i say nothing and just look at him with wide eyes as she turns and walks away ''What the hell...1942 ? how the fuck did that happen!'' i say to myself as i walk around the city which looks distinctively...older yet newer in some ways... Looking around i find myself where the pawn shop used to be where there is now a clothing store instead as a couple of women are standing outside smoking one with a stroller as they notice me ''huh...look at that Miranda...those young men are dressing worse and worse by the day'' ''Oh my yes...you are right Sally, it is absolutely dreadful'' they say as the look at me ''you know smoking causes cancer right ? and should you be doing that right next to your kid'' i say to her as she grabs her purse and hits me with it ''Mind your own business you rampant fool! dont meddle in or i will call the cops and have you sent to the Asylum!...smoking causes cancer....have you even heard such nonsense...'' they both scoff at me as i walk over to the park...which is thankfully still there and sit down on a bench as i spot a couple of guys drinking heavily and yelling at each other ''Holy shit...this really is the 1940's but what the hell am i doing here....'' i ask as the ring glows and i hear a voice in my head ''You are meant to be here'' i hear the voice say as i look around ''Hello ?'' i say and look around but there is no one around me ''Do not be alarmed i'm speaking to directly to your mind'' ''.....'' i say nothing ''You were sent back here to correct a mistake we are afraid....you were meant to grow up in this timeline instead of your own one...there was a small mistake and just thanks to the lightning storm we managed to correct it'' ''What the hell...meant to grow up in this timeline ? the 1940's ? for real what the hell kinda stoner talk is that'' ''Oh joke all you will but remember someone is talking to you in your head and you cannot deny this is the 1940's right ? so are you really in the position to demand?'' I shrug as i ponder the situation ''Well i don't care, send me back at once, this is fucking insane'' ''Sorry, we cannot do that, once you go back, going to the future might affect certain things so going forward is impossible i am afraid'' ''So what ? You're saying im stuck in this fucking place ?'' ''Well...stuck and stuck...you were meant to live in this time..so you are not stuck and look on the bright side, you are rich here, we brought back your money and exchanged it into this timelines currency so you are basically a millionaire now'' ''That is...that is kinda awesome...'' i say to myself ''A millionaire....that is awesome!'' ''Yes yes, it is the least we could do but we are afraid there is one more issue to take care of'' ''You see as you were...a mistake in some ways growing up in the wrong timeline that is not the whole story...'' ''Oh damn, what now then !?'' ''Well you see...it is you...or rather...''you'' since this whole thing was a mistake on our part well there is no easy way to say this to you but'' ''But'' i say feeling uneasy ''Well it is you see...it is...Nick right?'' ''Yes....it is'' ''Well it's supposed to be Nicole'' ''Wait what ? what ? say what ?'' i reply back to whatever it is talking to me ''Right then, you were meant to be a girl named Nicole, not a man named Nick So we have to rectify that predicament'' ''What ? no no, that is insane...'' ''Not as insane as going back in time though...right?'' ''Well...yeah...but still'' ''So to explain to you in one simple sentence, you were meant to grow up as a girl in this correct timeline, but due to some mistakes here and there you are not in the correct timeline'' ''So our job is to remedy that and to do that we have to start with your personally So if you would please do not react strongly or cause a scene we will correct that mistake right here and now'' it says as i stand up from the bench and try to remove the ring but its stuck on my finger The ring sends out some kinda electric shock trough my body as i go limp and fall down ''Dont try to remove it or that happens...you have to wear that ring to not mess up the timeline so its is permanently stuck to you now'' ''Now then where did we leave off...oh yes'' It says as my insides starts to feel like they are one fire as i can feel things moving around inside me cracking and fitting into place ''Augh...what the hell was that....'' ''Replacing your male organs just for now, the insides are easier to do since it just overrides and removes some stuff but we did replace it with its female counterparts'' ''it fucking hurt...'' i reply weakly back as i stand up on my legs and crack my fingers ''Ah yes let us start with the fingers'' it says as my fingernails grows longer and my fingers turns longer and more petite as the same happens to my arms as it turns smaller and slender my shoulders turns less broad and instead a bit sharper and smaller ''There...fingers and arms done....this will not take long Nicole so please just remain calm'' ''Remain calm ? what the hell kinda shit is this! who even are you!?'' ''You dont need to know that and you dont want to know that....'' it says in a more sinister tone ''Now then, the legs might be a good next step'' it says as i can feel my feet growing smaller and a loud crack can be heard as my legs grows wider as well as my hips then my ass grows decently larger and rounder ''Corrected'' it says as i look at the ring wanting to just throw it away ''Oh please, dont even try, you know i can read your mind so doing that would just give you yet another electrical shock and you dont really want that now do you?'' ''...I dont...'' i say lowly ''we thought so'' it says ''Now then where did we leave off ? oh yes'' it says as it starts to feel like someone tugging at my hair as it grows longer and longer and rolls down my back as it turns a gentle chestnut brown or blonde color and rolls up back as one side rolls down my shoulder ''Very classical and time precise Nicole'' The voice says ''Very...'' i say back as i sneeze I wipe my nose as the voice exclaims ''Ah yes, of course let us fix the face'' it says as i hear yet another loud crack as my face cracks and contorts as my eyes goes from blue to the same chestnut color as my hair, my lips gets fuller and my takes on a considerably feminine form as i walk over to the nearby lake and look up at my reflection and gasp ''Oh...damn...'' i say lowly to myself as i cover my mouth hearing my new voice ''oh damn...damn...'' i say yet again looking at the reflection in the water ''Yes yes, stop your complaining now'' ''Complaining ? i got every right, i have lived my whole life and now you are telling me that is just a joke ?'' ''Not a joke, a mistake we said'' ''Well whatever...but i look...'' ''You look what?'' ''I look good...that face...'' i say and run my finger across it as it feels gentle and smooth ''Okay okay so what now ?'' i say feeling a bit excited as i say it ''Oh ? that is a little turn around now, are you suddenly excited ?'' ''Well, no...not really but...the money drives me i guess...'' ''oh yes, the money keeps you going you say...'' it says ''Well...yes i mean...look...okay...what do you want me to say?'' ''if i cannot change reality...and this is just fate right ? what can i even do...walk around hating everything and myself and get thrown into jail for female hysteria ?'' ''Ah well, look here now, common sense, such a rarity and yes you probably would so it is smart to take the right choices'' it says as my chest starts to grow poking against my black Band shirt they grow larger and larger and fully develops into full functional breasts ''Now then we only have the last part of your ordeal left Nicole'' I look down as i cup my chest with my hands and looks around ''Mmm...these feels nice...'' i say to myself as i blush ''i do not think this is the right time to fondle yourself now Nicole, please be an upstanding woman of society now'' it says as i feel a weird sensation between my legs it feels like im being pushed up or something pressing against me penis as it just creeps back into my body as a pair of lips and a vagina starts to form down there instead as my hips once again grows a bit wider As it finishes it send a wave of pleasure up trough my body as i let out a gentle moan to myself ''there there Nicole'' ''Yes'' i say in a gentle soft tone ''Now you are who time meant for you to be but let me just fix your clothing as that is definitely going to break reality if someone spots you wearing that and besides as you might as well know, no women wore pants during this time'' ''Oh...yes yes, of course...my mistake'' i say cheerfully ''Please do not excuse yourself miss Nicole, you have nothing to be sorry for'' it says as my pants starts to widen up and creep up my legs as it slowly forms a grey skirt going down below my knees Then my band shirt slowly forms into a grey blazer with six buttons as it pushes against my body getting quite tight my converse shoes slowly start to form into a pair of black high heels with a strap around the ankels and lastly a pair of gloves wrap around my fingers and hands as a small purse forms out of thin air as i grab it ''Oh...this looks cute...and the outfit...its so fitting of the time...'' ''Well of course it is, you're a woman in the 1940's Now Nicole and you have to act like one, unfortunately your mind is something we cannot erase so you will have to learn along as it goes'' I nod as i open the purse and find a huge stack of cash ''Oh my! money! i should put these in a bank like right now...a woman with a wad of cash...this could be scary....'' i say to myself as i put the money back in the purse and hold it in my hand as i walk back into the city and look around as i spot the same women by the clothing store still standing there talking as they notice me i slowly walk over and smiles at me ''Hello...are you new in town?'' one of the women asks me as i nod ''Y-yes hello, my name is Nicole and i just moved here'' i smile ''Oh really ? Well my name is Sally and this is Miranda, it is a pleasure to meet you Nicole and i do have to say, your outfit looks very elegant'' ''Oh this thing...thank you'' i smile Miranda smiles as she looks into her purse and hands me a cigarette ''You must be smoking a lot to keep that lovely figure'' ''Oh...well i really dont...maybe once or twice'' i say as Miranda giggles and gives it to me and lights up as i take i inhale some ''it is truly a miracle cure, it makes you thinner and more beautiful and do excuse me for saying so but a woman without a cigarette in her hand is just not a classy woman'' ''Oh yes Miranda, you are definitely right but you know i just feel like good after taking one'' I just look at them as they keep talking so casually about this ''Ah..So Nicole, Do you have a husband ?'' ''Oh..no, not yet..im afraid'' i say kinda defending myself ''oh Sally, she just moved into town maybe she is just looking for one'' ''oh maybe i can ask Tom ? i think he has some single friends'' ''your husband ? oh yes maybe'' Miranda smiles I smile as i look down at the stroller ''And who is this little one?'' ''Oh that is Eric, he is my little bundle of joy barely a year old'' Sally smiles ''the little man is sleeping so i dont really want to disturb him so i hope you understand Nicole'' I nod at her as i finish up my smoke ''Ah...thank you for that'' i say as the women smile at me ''Oh dont mention it dear, we are happy to see a new face here, but i have to go on home now, my husband should be coming home from work now and i bet he is quite hungry now'' Sally smiles as she smiles at me and Miranda and walk home Miranda looks at me and smiles ''So Nicole let me invite you over to my home if you want to come for a cup of coffee and some cake ?'' ''Oh...really ? that would be quite lovely...thank you Miranda'' Miranda smiles as we walk over to her home and step inside once inside it looks typical 1940's...the old phone on the wall...the lack of...what i am used to but still it has quite the charm to it ''Oh please make yourself at home'' I smile as i sit down on a chair and cross my legs ''Oh my...just been a woman for 1 hour and already making friends and enjoying it....who knew the 1940's was such...different time'' i smile to myself as i am really getting into this Miranda out with a plate of some cake and a cup of coffee for me ''So do tell me about yourself Nicole....where do you come from ?'' ''Oh...i do not want to be rude Miranda but i left my past sort of behind...it was...quite...troubling and i do not really like to talk about it much...'' She looks at me sad and nods ''I see...that is truly horrible i am terribly sorry for asking you'' I just smile as i put my hand on hers ''it is not your fault, you couldn't have known is all...'' She smiles and nods as i remove my hand and take a sip of my coffee ''You have a very nice home...it is so cozy in here'' i say ''Oh, thank you thank you...i just love decorating and flowers so this is my little escape from the world outside'' Some things never change i say to myself ''So...what do you like Nicole ?'' ''Oh...i like...going to resturants...being with my friends...going to the mall...'' i say weakly hoping i dont mess something up ''Oh yes i just adore the mall, it is just so bustling with life and they have quite the nice selection of stores but i have to say, your fashion sense is distinctly...upper class...'' she says looking at me ''Oh yes...my father was a banker and made a lot of money...but as he died and had no other children he gave me all...my mother died when i was very young...'' i say quickly ''Oh..yes i see...so you were an only child?'' she asks me ''Oh well...like i said i dont really like to talk...about the past...'' ''Oh yes...of course of course...'' I look over at Miranda who sips her coffee wearing her red dress with sleeves going down to the ankles ''So then Nicole...have you had anything fun lately?'' ''Fun ? oh no but i did have a strange dream...'' ''Oh ? a strange dream...?'' ''Yes...i had a fever a couple of weeks ago and when i have it i get really tired...so i dream't i was a man...like...several years in the future...it was...very strange'' Miranda giggles and looks at me ''Oh ? my my, did they have flying cars?'' she giggles as i giggle back and shake my head ''oh...do you have someplace to live ?'' i slowly shake my head and sigh ''Well you want to stay here for the night then ?'' ''Well...that would be lovely but i cannot do so for free...let me at least pay for it...'' i say as Miranda lights up another cigarette and smiles at me ''oh please...i will not ask you but if you insist'' she smiles as i look into my purse and hands her a hundred dollar bill She looks at it in shock then over at me then back at the bill ''A-Are...Are you sure ? that is a lot of money...'' she says as i just smile and nod at her ''you are giving me a place to stay...it is the least i can do'' We sit down and chat for several more hours as i learn new things over and over again as Miranda yawns and looks at the clock ''Oh...miranda do not mind if i ask but...do you live here alone ?'' ''Oh..yes...my husband died in the war 4 years ago i am afraid...i have been alone since'' ''Oh...i didnt mean to bring that up...i am sorry'' Miranda smiles and shakes her head ''He died fighting for our country...in my eyes he is a hero Miranda smiles at me as she turns around and walks up the stairs as i look at her while sipping my last cup of coffee ''....oh my dear goddess....'' i say to myself as feel myself getting a bit warmer ''Oh dear heavens..no no...please...i am a woman...it is not right...'' ''But i mean...i used to be...'' ''No no...that is just absurd...i mean...its not but i cannot keep thinking like that...i have to fit in...'' i say as Miranda walks back downstairs and sits down on the sofa ''So then Miranda, you can use the guest bedroom okay ?'' I nod at her as i stand up and walk upstairs to the guest room which just has a single bed and some old drawers there it feels...quite cold I look in the drawers as i find an old nightgown as i remove my clothes and put on the gown as i lie down in bed just thinking about Miranda ''Oh...Fuck it'' i say as i stand back up and walk over to find Miranda in the bathroom i look at her as she looks at me and smiles ''that nightgown fits you very nice i am glad i saved that thing'' I just look at her into the eyes as she goes silent and just looks at me back ''N-Nicole...are you well ?'' she asks as i take a deep breath and looks at her ''I think i am about to do something...stupid'' i say as i move in closer and wrap my arms around her shoulders as i gently leans in and kisses her lips Miranda's eyes goes wide as she pushes me away ''Good heavens Nicole! what has gotten into you! Are you insane!?'' she yells at me as i look at her ''I am not insane Miranda...but...you have just been so kind to me and...look at you...you look so lovely and cute...and it just..felt right'' ''i close my eyes now and see you....and i just want to hold around you...you really...you are just...'' Miranda looks at me and pushes me away as she walks into her bedroom and locks the door i walk over and knock on it but get no reply ''I am...i am so sorry Miranda...'' i say as i walk back to my room and lie down on the cold bed as i close my eyes and just recap my day so far But as i start to recap it my thoughts flood over to Miranda...all i think about is her now...her lovely body...her cute and sweet face...her empathy and compassion...why does these things...turn me on and why do i...as a woman myself...i am killing myself... But i cannot fight these feelings anymore i remove my nightgown and lie down naked in the bed and covers myself with the blanket as i just think about Miranda all night and nothing else The next morning i wake up and look around and quickly get dressed as i find Miranda downstairs listening to the radio ''Good morning'' she says as i walk over and sit down next to her ''Good morning Miranda...'' She turns and looks at me ''i have heard of women like you Nicole...and cannot belive it just happened to me...i cannot get it out of my head what you did to me...i wanted to call the police but...i just couldn't...'' ''i am sorry Miranda...i didn't mean it...'' ''Look Nicole, you are a lovely woman but this...this...is just...absurd...'' i just keep looking at her as i stand up and walks over to her as i hold her hand against my blazer where my breasts are as she stands up and looks at me ''.....'' we say nothing and just look at each other as i yet hear the voice in my head again ''Miss Nicole...if you go down this path...you will live a secrecy...oppression and hate...'' it says to me ''Yes...but i cannot help myself...its not that she is just a woman...but i just cannot help myself...i just cannot...she...she just feel right for me...'' ''Then Miss Nicole...dont fight it...and enjoy this life that was meant to be yours from the start''it says as it fades away ''N-Nicole...'' she stammers but does not remove her hand as i smile at her ''Miranda...'' ''Nicole...'' ''Miranda...i cannot stop my feelings...when i saw you..i just knew...i fell in love...you are everything i have looked for in another person...and i cannot stop thinking about you no matter how hard i try...'' ''But...i am a woman....just like you...'' ''And so what...? does that make it less wrong ? these are my feelings...you dont have to feel the same back but...just be honest to me...'' Miranda sighs i let go of her hand as she looks at me ''....Who...who just are you...'' she says ''Just a woman like you'' i smile back I see a smile across Her face as she giggles and looks at me ''No one has to know...right?'' I nod at her ''We can move away and start a life for ourselves....'' ''Then...Y-yes...i will give this a chance but what would i even call you?'' I lean in and kiss her lips lovingly ''Wives at some point maybe ? or maybe just...girlfriends'' ''Wives...me being a wife to a woman...oh my....i would have never...but...you kiss...good'' i giggle and smile at her ''And so do you Miranda...my dear...'' ''Oh Nicole...i dont understand you but...i am sure i will soon'' she smiles at me as i kiss her lips again and giggle at her ''i know something i want to try with you...if you so desire to follow me upstairs...'' Miranda looks at me confused as we head upstairs and i show her a whole new word...just as she did to me...

#tf #tg #tgtf #tftg #tgstory

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foxbutton818 · 3 years ago

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Ipod Classic Games

The original and second generation iPod did not officially have games at all, but a simple game called 'Brick' - where the player 'breaks' a screen full of bricks with a ball and paddle. WinX Free 3GP to iPod Converter is a free 3GP video to iPod converter which supports fre converting 3GP video to iPod player, including iPod Touch 1, 2, 3/4/5, iPod Nano, iPod Classic, etc. There's no malware, adware, spyware or virus. Our range of refurbished iPod Classic devices are a great way to listen to music and podcasts on the go at an amazingly low price! Experience nostalgia by traversing through the iPod Classic with its selection wheel and enjoy classic games such as Solitaire or Parachute whilst listening to music.

SAN FRANCISCO—September 5, 2007—Apple® today introduced the new iPod® classic, featuring 80GB or 160GB of storage that holds your entire collection of music, photos, video, podcasts and games—up to 40,000 songs or 200 hours of video. Now in its sixth generation, the new iPod classic delivers all the features customers love about their iPods, plus an enhanced user interface featuring Cover Flow™ and a new all-metal enclosure. iPod classic is priced at just $249 for the 80GB model and $349 for the 160GB model.

“The first iPod put 1,000 songs in your pocket—this new iPod classic can put 40,000 songs in your pocket,” said Steve Jobs, Apple’s CEO. “With a thinner, all-metal enclosure and an enhanced user interface, the iPod classic is ideal for people who want to hold everything on their iPod.”

Rockbox Ipod Classic Games

The new iPod classic holds up to 160GB of storage in an all-metal anodized aluminum and polished stainless steel enclosure. iPod classic works seamlessly with iTunes® so you can import, manage and then easily sync your favorite content. You can buy music, video and games for your iPod classic from the iTunes Store with more than six million songs available for preview and one-click purchase.

The new iPod classic features up to 40 hours of music playback and seven hours of video playback in the 160GB model, and up to 30 hours of music playback and five hours of video playback in the 80GB model on a single charge,* letting users enjoy their entire collections of music, audiobooks, audio and video podcasts, music videos, television shows and movies wherever they go.

The new iPod classic is perfect for playing iPod games and comes pre-loaded with iQuiz, the entertainment trivia game; Vortex, a fast-paced 360 degree brick-bashing game; and Klondike, the popular solitaire card game. Additional games will be available for purchase for the new iPod classic later this month from the iTunes Store, including Sudoku and Tetris from Electronic Arts and Ms. PAC-MAN from NAMCO.

The iPod is the world’s most popular family of digital music players with over 100 million sold. Today, Apple released its most exciting iPod lineup ever with the iPod shuffle in five new colors; iPod classic holding up to 40,000 songs; the incredible all new iPod nano with video playback; and the breakthrough iPod touch with a revolutionary multi-touch user interface. iPod owners can choose from a vast ecosystem of accessories with over 4,000 products made specifically for the iPod including cases, fitness accessories, speaker systems and iPod connectivity in over 70 percent of US automobiles.

Pricing & Availability Both iPod classic models are available immediately worldwide in silver and black. The 80GB iPod classic model is $249 (US) and the 160GB iPod classic is $349 (US).

iPod classic requires a Mac® with a USB 2.0 port, Mac OS® X v10.4.8 or later and iTunes 7.4; or a Windows PC with a USB 2.0 port and Windows Vista or Windows XP Home or Professional (Service Pack 2) or later and iTunes 7.4. Internet access is required and a broadband connection is recommended, fees may apply. The iTunes Store is not available in all countries.

* Battery life and number of charge cycles vary by use and settings. See www.apple.com/batteries for more information. Music capacity is based on four minutes per song and 128-Kbps AAC encoding; photo capacity is based on iPod-viewable photos transferred from iTunes; and video capacity is based on H.264 1.5-Mbps video at 640-by-480 resolution.

Apple ignited the personal computer revolution in the 1970s with the Apple II and reinvented the personal computer in the 1980s with the Macintosh. Today, Apple continues to lead the industry in innovation with its award-winning computers, OS X operating system and iLife and professional applications. Apple is also spearheading the digital media revolution with its iPod portable music and video players and iTunes online store, and has entered the mobile phone market this year with its revolutionary iPhone.

Press Contacts: Christine Monaghan Apple (408) 974-8850 [email protected]

Apple, the Apple logo, Mac, Mac OS, Macintosh, iPod, Cover Flow and iTunes are trademarks of Apple. Other company and product names may be trademarks of their respective owners.

An iPod click wheel game or iPod game is a video game playable on the various versions of the Apple portable media player, the iPod. The original iPod had the game Brick (originally invented by Apple co-founder Steve Wozniak) included as an easter egg hidden feature; later firmware versions added it as a menu option. Later revisions of the iPod added three more games in addition to Brick: Parachute, Solitaire, and Music Quiz. These games should not be confused with games for the iPod Touch, which require iOS and are only available on Apple's App Store on iTunes.

History(edit)

In September 2006, the iTunes Store began to offer nine additional games for purchase with the launch of iTunes 7, compatible with the fifth-generation iPod with iPod software 1.2 or later. Those games were Bejeweled, Cubis 2, Mahjong, , Pac-Man, Tetris, Texas Hold 'Em, Vortex, and Zuma. These games were made available for purchase from the iTunes Store for US$4.99 each. In December 2006, two more games were released by EA Mobile at the same price: Royal Solitaire and Sudoku. In February 2007, Ms. Pac-Man was released, followed in April 2007 by iQuiz. Until this time, all the available games could be purchased in a package, with no discount.

In May 2007, Apple released Lost: The Video Game by Gameloft, based on the television show. In June 2007, 'SAT Prep 2008' by Kaplan was introduced as 3 separate educational games based on the subjects of writing, reading, and mathematics. In December 2007, Apple released a classic Sega game, Sonic the Hedgehog, which was originally packaged with the Sega Genesis system in the early 1990s.

With third parties like Namco, Square Enix, EA, Sega, and Hudson Soft all making games for the iPod, Apple's dedicated MP3 player took great steps towards entering the video game handheld console market. Even video game magazines like GamePro and EGM have reviewed and rated most of their games.

The games are in the form of .ipg files (iPod game), which are actually .zip archives in disguise. When unzipped, they reveal executable files along with common audio and image files, leading to the possibility of third-party games, although this never eventuated (with the exception of superficial user-made tweaks). Apple never made a software development kit (SDK) available to the public for iPod-specific development.(1) The iOS SDK covers only iOS on the iPhone and iPod Touch, not traditional iPods.

In October 2011, Apple removed all the click wheel–operated games from its store.

Games(edit)

This is a list of games that were made available for the newest iPods, excluding the iPod Touch. Each game (other than Reversi and ChineseCheckers) cost US$4.99 to buy prior to their discontinuation in 2011.

The list contains 54 games that are known to exist. The list is always kept up to date by this script.

TitlePublisherRelease dateGame IDTexas Hold'EmApple Inc.2006-09-1233333ZumaPopCap Games2006-09-1244444Pac-ManNamco2006-09-12AAAAATetrisElectronic Arts2006-09-1266666Mini GolfElectronic Arts2006-09-1288888Cubis 2Fresh Games2006-09-1299999SudokuElectronic Arts2006-12-1950513Ms. Pac-ManNamco2007-02-2714004SAT Prep 2008 (Math)Kaplan2007-06-2211052SAT Prep 2008 (Reading)Kaplan2007-06-2211050SAT Prep 2008 (Writing)Kaplan2007-06-2211051The Sims BowlingElectronic Arts2007-07-171500CThe Sims PoolElectronic Arts2007-07-311500EMusika (Only Released in UK)NanaOn-Sha, Ltd./Sony BMG2007-08-071C300Brain ChallengeGameloft / Apple Inc.2007-09-05PhaseHarmonix2007-11-061D000Sonic the HedgehogSega2007-12-1818000PegglePopCap Games2007-12-1812104BombermanHudson Soft2007-12-1820000Block Breaker DeluxeGameloft / Apple Inc.2008-01-15Pole Position RemixNamco2008-01-21Naval BattleGameloft2008-02-04Chess & BackgammonGameloft2008-02-04YahtzeeHasbro2008-02-11Pirates of the Caribbean: Aegir's FireDisney2008-02-20Bubble BashGameloft2008-02-25ScrabbleElectronic Arts / Hasbro2008-03-03BejeweledPopCap Games2008-04-1555555MahjongElectronic Arts2008-04-2277777MonopolyElectronic Arts / Hasbro2008-06-0315040The Sims DJElectronic Arts2008-06-09Song Summoner: The Unsung HeroesSquare Enix2008-07-0824000UnoGameloft2008-07Mystery Mansion PinballGameloft2008-08Chalkboard Sports BaseballD2C2008-08Spore OriginsElectronic Arts2008-08-2515010Star TrigonNamco2008-09CSI: MiamiGameloft2008-09Tamagotchi: 'Round the WorldNamco2008-11Asphalt 4: Elite RacingGameloft2008-1222020Tiger Woods PGA TourElectronic Arts2008-12Real Soccer '09Gameloft2008-12Slyder AdventuresSandlot Games2008-12ReversiApple Inc.2008-12Wonder BlocksGameloft2008-12Lode RunnerHudson Soft2008-12Crystal DefendersSquare Enix2008-1224002Chinese CheckersApple Inc.2008-12Trivial PursuitElectronic Arts / Hasbro2008-12Cake Mania 3Sandlot Games2009-02LostUbisoft2007-051B200VortexApple Inc.2006-09-1212345iQuizApple Inc.2007-0411002Royal SolitaireElectronic Arts2006-1250514

Default games(edit)

These are the games that originally came with an iPod.(2)

iPod versionTitlesPublishersiPod 1G, 2GBrick (also called Game)Apple Inc.iPod 3G, 4G, 5G, and 5.5G; iPod Nano 1G and 2G; iPod MiniBrick, Music Quiz, Parachute, SolitaireApple Inc.iPod Nano 3G; iPod Classic 6GiQuiz, Klondike, VortexApple Inc.iPod Nano 4G and 5GMaze, Klondike, Vortex, BrickApple Inc.

Criticism(edit)

iTunes had come under much criticism due to the UK price of iPod games, GB£3.99 (about US$7.40). Many people from the UK had given the games 1-star ratings, stating that Apple was 'ripping off' Britain.(3)

A similar situation occurred in Australia, where the price was A$7.49, even though the Australian dollar was (at the time) worth more than the US dollar (A$7.49 = US$7.76).

Developers had criticized Apple for not creating a software development kit (SDK) for software developers to create new iPod games; this was likely to keep the digital rights management of iPod games closed.(citation needed) Despite this, it did not prevent users from running an alternative OS on the iPod such as Linux, whereby, for example, there are ports of Doom that will run on fifth-generation iPods. Running Linux on an iPod retains the music-playing functionality of the device while also adding features such as the ability to create voice memos through the headphones.

When the iPod Classic and iPod Nano third generation were released, games which had previously been purchased could not be synced to the new iPods. Understandably, this made many consumers angry due to losing their investment.

It is also notable that after a download had been made for a game, it couldn't have been downloaded again unless a separate purchase was made for the same item.(4) This is different behavior than applications downloaded on the App Store, which can be downloaded an unlimited amount of times. These issues were later fixed, however, making it possible to install any single game on any number of iPods registered under the same account.

Unofficial games(edit)

Some older iPod units are capable of using replacement firmware such as iPod Linux and Rockbox. These firmware projects can play many other games, including the aforementioned native port of Doom; and, via a native port of the Game BoyemulatorGnuboy, many other games could be played, including Super Mario Bros., Tomb Raider, Mega Man, Kirby, Metroid, The Legend of Zelda, Street Fighter, and hundreds more.(5)(6)

Games using the ″Notes″ feature(edit)

With the release of the third-generation iPod in 2003, Apple introduced a ″Notes″ feature to the iPod’s firmware. This functionality provided the first opportunity for third-party developers to create simple text and audio games which could be installed and run on an iPod without users needing to replace the official firmware.

With a limit of 1,000 individual .txt files, each with a maximum file size of 4kb, the Notes feature made use of a limited set of html tags. Hyperlinks could also be used to link to other .txt files or folders and play audio files stored on the device.(7) The limitation of available html tags meant that developers were restricted to Choose Your Own Adventure–style text-based games(8) or multiple choice–style quizzes with narrated audio.(9) Subsequently, very few developers used the Notes feature as a way of publishing games.

References(edit)

Gamestop Ipod Classic

^'What's Inside an iPod Game?' bensinclair.com, September 14, 2006.

^'Fun for your iPod', November 26, 2007.

^iTunes store

^Melanson, Donald (2007-09-19). 'iPod games must be repurchased for new iPods'. Engadget. Retrieved 2008-09-30.

^'Applications'. iPodLinux Wiki. Retrieved 6 April 2010.

^'What is Rockbox? Why should I use it?'. Rockbox Wiki. Retrieved 6 April 2010.

^'iPod Note Reader User Guide'(PDF). Apple. Archived from the original(PDF) on June 6, 2003.

^'XO Play offers Herbert's Big Adventure game for iPod'. MacWorld. 2 March 2004.

^'Coolgorilla releases music trivia game for iPods'. iLounge. 23 December 2005.

External links(edit)

iPod game page at Apple.com

Ipod Classic Games Vortex

Retrieved from 'https://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=IPod_game&oldid=1021219140'

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wannawant · 7 years ago

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Ideal Type - Park Jihoon

An AU where you’re close friends with Park Jihoon’s older brother in uni. You were 23 and Jihoon’s 20.

One day you were having barbecue with your classmates but apparently your friend, Park, brought his little brother along and he wasn’t alone. He brought along 10 more guys from his workplace. You and your girlfriends were sharing knowing looks and internally screamed because they were all gorgeous in their own ways.

This is going to be a long, long night.

The night carried on with bottles of soju, countless refills of beer and snacks. Most of you were tipsy already by midnight but it only got the conversation started. Somehow you all ended up talking about ideal types.

“Hey Y/N, what’s your ideal type?”

“I like mature, older man. Also someone really tall, over 180 cm is a plus point. So I could tiptoe as I kiss him just like in the movies.” You answered, half jokingly.

“Kuanlin is over 180cm!” One of Jihoon’s friends, whom you recalled his name was Jaehwan, immediately exclaimed.

“Aw baby call me when you’re 25, okay?” You said jokingly as you blow a kiss to the tall guy who is apparently the youngest of your bunch which made everybody around the table laughed, including Kuanlin himself. He was one of the few who only had orange juice, not yet reaching the legal age to drink so even without asking you knew that he’s far too young for you.

“How about you, Jihoon?”

“I prefer younger woman that has a lot of aegyo, small enough to hug or put inside my pocket. And must think I’m manly!”

They all laughed, and you did too. After all it wasn’t like you have a crush on Park’s doe-eyed little brother who looked even younger that he already was. Yes, he was cute but you would rather admire his tall friend with broad shoulders. Who was his name again? Daniel? Yeah, he was quite close to your ideal type although he wasn’t older. If you weren’t too tipsy you would probably have asked for his number already. Oh well.

The night ended before the sun rose, and it was the beginning of more meet-ups which usually ended with all of you staggering on your way back home with high alcohol content in your veins and sometimes sore throats after a whole night of karaoke. You were all on good terms with each other, including you and Jihoon but you were just friends and nothing more.

Everything changed in one night. You were on your way back from your internship at a huge advertising company. It was late past midnight and you left the office building with a huge bag filled with poster test prints and folded cardboard boxes. It was the end of summer, not hot enough to be running around in the thin clothes like you were but not cold enough to wear a coat so you’re stuck with your plain lime green blouse and pencil skirt. All you wanted to do was throw all these stuff on the floor and jump into your hot water filled bathtub but it had to wait for another 30 minute since you still need to walk the way back home in your torturing black stilettos that made your legs look amazing.

Suddenly you felt like someone was following you. You looked back but no one was there but you in the dimly lit empty road. You started walking a little bit faster but you still felt the same. Again you picked up your pace, almost half running suddenly forgetting that your legs were in pain because of your shoes and then you finally heard it. Another set of footsteps besides yours, and it’s getting closer.

You finally saw the owner of those footsteps. An unknown middle aged man with hungry look in his eyes. An alarm roared inside your head and you ran as fast as you can in your heels. You didn’t even care where you went but you just ran, ran, and ran until you found a small alley and hid behind an electric pole as you caught your breath. It’s dark and cold, you’re scared beyond measure. You took out your phone and scrolled through the contacts to call your friends. You tried calling your girlfriends but none of them answered which is not strange since it was late. Then you tried the boys’, starting with Park’s. It took so long until your call was finally answered, you blurted out words before the other side even said anything.

“Park, I need your help. Please. I’m being followed by a stranger and I’m hiding he’s going to catch me. What am I going to do?”

“... Noona? It’s Jihoon.”

Oh shit.

“Jihoon? I-I’m so sorry, is your brother-“

Then you hear the same footsteps again, this time with a faint coo.

“Come out little girl, you can’t hide forever.”

Shit.

“Jihoon, please help me.” You pleaded as you whisper into the phone. Tears were already running down your cheeks and your hands were trembling you had to hold your phone with two hands.

“Noona, tell me where you are.” You barely have any idea but you looked around the alley and found a familiar looking convenience store and Chinese restaurant right across. Apparently it’s not too far from your office building (wait were you running in circles?), so you began whispering the details to him.

“I got it. I’ll be there.” In a split second the phone call ended and you clutched your phone as if your life depended on it. You began chanting prayers in your head, recalling the faces of people who were dear to you. Your parents, friends, grandparents in heaven, your pet toy poodle, and the unfinished office projects.

Perhaps luck wasn’t on your side tonight because the foot steps got even louder and louder. You were no longer alone in the alley, so this is really the end. You prepared yourself to scream and throw random punches and kicks but the person’s voice stopped you.

“Noona, is that you?”

It’s Jihoon. He really came for you. You couldn’t explain how grateful you are to see him so you just stayed still in your position, seated on the cold asphalt and let the tears of relief flow out. You tried opening your mouth but nothing came out but sobs so you continued bawling. Apparently Jihoon understood so he squatted down to level his eyes with yours. He reached his hands out although a bit hesitant at first to pull you into a hug. His body warmth enveloping you successfully calmed you down, and your hands unconsciously grabbed onto the front part of his sweatshirt.

“It’s okay, I’m here. You’re safe now.”

Once your sobbing has stopped, he helped you stand and you winced from the pain. You just realized the blisters on your feet from running in those killer heels. You couldn’t walk that way so you took them off and felt the cold asphalt under your feet, completely oblivious to how Jihoon just stared at your bare legs and feet.

“You can’t walk like that.” He said, but as if you had any choice? So he took off his sneakers and gave them for you to wear.

“Wear that.” It was an order, not a suggestion. Which is strange because he’s supposed to be the adorable, young little baby Park? But you were not in the mood to argue so you stepped into his sneakers and when you looked up he was holding out his yellow sweatshirt over to your direction.

“?”

“Your clothes are too thin. You’ll catch a cold.” He helped you put on his sweatshirt and both of you were surprised by the result. The sweatshirt that fitted perfectly on Jihoon’s body was hanging loosely on your shoulders. It looked even longer as it reached the middle part of your thigh and the sleeves cover all your arms including your fingers. You finally realized that even when he was younger, he was still a man. His shoulders are broader and he was actually much taller than you, now that you took off your heels you need to look up to stare into his eyes. He too has the same thoughts as you were, never realizing that this noona was actually smaller and even more frail than he used to think.

After a few seconds of being engrossed in each others thoughts, Jihoon was the one to break the silence.

“Shall we go?” You didn’t say anything because you were so sure you would stutter if you did, so you answered with a nod and followed his steps. The way back home didn’t seem as dark and cold as before. None of you two initiated a conversation and you are thankful because the previous event still haunted you all the way home. It didn’t go unnoticed by Jihoon who kept looking at your direction every 10 seconds or so because he was still worried about you, and his instincts were right.

While you were busy staring emptily at the pavement in front of you, Jihoon sneaked his hand slowly touch yours. It took you by surprise for a moment and you immediately pulled back because you thought it was that scary man again. You were still scared after all. Once you realized what you just did you apologized for your action.

“Sorry, I didn’t–”

“You shouldn’t apologize. You are still thinking about him, weren’t you?”

There was no way you could deny that so you hung your head low, hands fidgeting with the tip of his sweatshirt you’re wearing. This time you saw his hand moving closer to yours, gently as if he’s dealing with a fragile glass piece until you can finally feel his whole hand enveloping yours. It surprised you that his hands were quite big despite his cute endeavour. He was still a man no matter what. At the same time he was also thinking about the same thing, how small your hands were compared to his despite your strong and mature demeanor.

He was the one to break the silence with reassuring words.

“It’s okay, you are safe now. I am here.”

It was like magic how his words managed to calm your heartbeat down immediately. He also held your hand all the way so you would always remember his presence before you could even think about the man again. You both arrived in front of your apartment door because he insisted in taking you back all the way.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, noona.”

Reluctantly, you both let go of each other’s hand only to miss each other the second the cold summer night air grazed on your skin.

“What time do you go to work tomorrow?”

“… 7.30. Why?”

“I’ll pick you up tomorrow morning.”

“You don’t have to, don’t you have morning classes? I’ll be fine on my own.”

“No. I’ll be here tomorrow morning.” His gaze looked so intense. For a second you forgot that he was Park’s little baby brother who was nowhere near your ideal type.

If that’s the case, why did he make your heart beat faster than anybody else ever did?

“O-okay. Oh, I’m home already. Let me return your sweatshirt and shoes.” Before you didn’t even consider how his feet must have felt against the cold asphalt because he lend his shoes to you, the least you could do was to let him wear them on his way back home. But you were about to pull the sweatshirt off your body when he stopped you.

“No, keep it.” Before you could question him, he provided you with an answer first.

“It looked better on you than I thought.” He responded, shyly.

Finally he said his goodbye and left once you’ve locked your front door properly. Little did he know that once you’re no longer in his sight you sat on the floor with your back leaning on the front door. So many things happened in the past hour your brain was on the verge of overheating. You cleaned yourself up and laid on your bed, drifting off to sleep the very moment your head touched the soft pillow.

When the sun rises, you thought everything was just a really long and vivid dream until the sight of Jihoon’s sweatshirt hanging in your room reminded you that it wasn’t. Also, true to his words he knocked on your door at half past seven sharp.

“Ready to leave?”

“Wait, let me just grab my bag and put my shoes on.” You ran to grab your bags quickly. Your hands were already moving to take a pair of strappy heels from the shoe rack before your hands stopped in midair and picked a pair of flat shoes instead.

“Let’s go.” You said as you closed the door behind you, walking by his side again just like last night and your shoulders grazing each others countless times along the way. You liked it, he liked it too. Somewhere along the way, he asked you about your shoes.

“Why aren’t you wearing your usual heels? Is it because of me?”

He sure was a sharp one, and his voice sounded hurt.

“In fact, yes. But you know you’re still towering over me even with 10 cm added.”

“Then w-“

“Because I like to tiptoe as I do this.” You kissed his cheek lightly, not caring that some pedestrians stopped to looked at you two.

“Just like in the movies.” Giving him a hint to remember what you had said on the first night you all went out together, if he were sober enough to listen. Jihoon didn’t answer for some while which almost made you think that he either forgot or despised your daring action, but he bended over to you only to whisper this in your ears.

“But I recall that in the movies the girl was supposed to kiss the boy on the lips.”

His raspy voice successfully brought chill down your spine as you jokingly slapped his shoulder.

“Yah! Park Jihoon!” He chuckled as he took your hands and continued walking you to the office.

Screw ideal types, indeed. The next time someone asked you about it, you would immediately reply with: “My boyfriend, Park Jihoon.”

#wanna one #wanna one imagines #wanna one scenarios #produce 101 scenarios #park jihoon #kang daniel #kim jaehwan #yoon jisung #lee daehwi #ong seongwoo #lai kuanlin #bae jinyoung #ha sungwoon #park woojin #hwang minhyun

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whipplefilter · 7 years ago

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Fic: Burning Sky

This fic is for @gillg25, who asked for fic based on this headcanon of hers, about Lightning’s crash. I didn’t want to just steal your idea, and I didn’t want to repeat stuff I myself have already written, so this starts a bit further back. ;) Hope you enjoy! The epigraph (and title) are from Bad Company’s “Burnin’ Sky.”

The sky is burnin' I believe my soul's on fire

July, 2007.

Doc frames it as a question.

It's what he does when the idea he's had is both stupid and dangerous. Maybe it's how they teach you to talk in doctor school, or lawyer school, but Lightning has a feeling it goes deeper than that.

Doc is teaching at the edge of a sport that defines itself by exceeding its edges. Racing is, more than finish lines or pole positions, the breach between tire and asphalt when you don't have the downforce--when that bump sneaks up on you; it's the keening shriek of air better measured in cc's than inches when you're loose on a turn and skim a wall. It's teaching your hunger for the edge without dooming your student to your old mistakes.

But here's the thing. Question or not, it's what Doc Hudson would do. It's what the Fabulous Hudson Hornet would do. Lightning's never once answered 'no.'

November, 2016.

There's a storm up in the mountains--lightning, the works. The race is on, though--if there's anything to be said about Los Angeles, it's that it can stop a storm dead in its tracks. Traffic, grid-locked; smog, rising; inversion layer, paralytic.

"They're worried about wildfires," says Danny, whose name Lightning only knows because Danny qualified a tenth of a second ahead of him, and because he replaced Bobby. Danny's talking to Chase, who replaced Brick, because Danny still has anyone to talk to, because Danny was never friends with Brick Yardley or anyone else who's gone now.

Chase doesn't even know what a wildfire properly is. That's how young these guys are.

But Los Angeles is always worried about wildfires.

Lightning just needs to focus on Storm.

It's always dusk under a wildfire. Orange and hazy, Cadillac range obliterated by smoke, it feels like they're on the moon. Except it's hot. Real hot. Radiator Springs shutters, all of its residents having retreated indoors; and caught up in the sepia of wildfire, it looks the way Lightning imagines it would have, if it had been allowed to disappear.

Red's already burnt a ring of brush all around town, doused the roads and all the tractor tracks he could find. They'll probably be all right, though with fires this size it's hard to tell. It's all scrub brush out here, so they can't fuel the truly large blazes like they get up north, but if there's something this desert has in spades, it's wind. You get wind and fire on a plain together, and boy, they can dance.

Red waits, wordlessly anxious, and hopes for the best.

According to Sheriff, Red thinks the fire is far enough away, at least for now. Doesn't feel that way, though. If Lightning closed his eyes, he'd believe it were right in front of him. It's gotta be 140 degrees. It's been 140 degrees for days. It feels like it's been the last lap of a summer 500, track so slick it's almost liquid, for a full-on week.

Doc asks, "Hey, Rookie, you wanna try something?"

And so, with Red in tow, they head to Willy's Butte.

Los Angeles at night is a race you need to lead in order to win. Problem is, it's hard enough to hold P6 against these guys, much less overtake. Lightning stays out of the pits as long as he can to build as many hundredths of seconds as he can between him and the car behind him, snatches a few off Danny's lead on him, and prays there aren't any early yellows.

In the distance, there is thunder.

A couple slow laps around the Butte, and it's hot and unpleasant, but nothing awful. Lightning wasn't made for low speeds, so they always feel a little coarse. But it doesn't get better. The air's flabby, just doesn't have the density, doesn't have the oxygen, and Lightning's engine can't find its power. It's hard to breathe.

When the wind blows in, so does the ash. It coats the track like snow and it coats Doc like a fine white dust and Lightning can't see much of anything at all, just dirt and ash and the occasional snatch of the plummeting cliffside he knows is out there. He tries to find what speed he can. He feels lightheaded.

You know, when I was a rookie on the force, Sheriff told him once. He says, Any time I bulls-eyed, I couldn't ever actually see the target. When my vision went pure white I'd pull the trigger and that'd be my perfect shot. It was always the ones I couldn't ever see.

Not gonna lie, Sherif. As a private citizen living in your town, that's a little scary to me, Lightning replies.

They weren't Hail Marys, boy, Sheriff huffs. That was instinct. Experience taking over. You just don't know it 'til you feel it a coupla times.

"Watch your temperature," Doc shouts over Lightning's engine. "What you're feeling--usually you only ever get that at the tail-end of an actual race. Everyone knows you got talent, rookie, but that's only gonna get you so far when you're up against a field who's got 300, 500 races on you."

It's hard to train race circumstances as fleeting as this one--those last five minutes where the pressure's on and one poor experimental decision can cost you. But under that wildfire, it's those last five minutes forever. They train until Lightning's engine is spent and there's so much dirt and ash clogging his air filter he can't speak without hacking. He feels like he's run a thousand races.

Los Angeles at night. You lead, you win.

Lightning screams out of pit road just ahead of Storm. It took 450 laps to make this play. Now he just needs to hold on.

It’s honestly breathtaking how quick Storm shuts that door.

Sally's pretty irate at Doc when she finds out about their wildfire training, which is probably where that doctor-lawyer school thing comes in. She's irate even after Lightning coughs his way through some staccato, single-syllable version of "No, I wanted to, it's fine, I feel fine, this was actually really helpful."

"Does Spare the Air Day mean nothing to you?" she asks Doc tersely.

In truth, the phrase means less than nothing to Lightning, because he lied, he does not feel fine, and his vision's going white and he suspects it has less to do with instinct and experience than it does with oxygen deprivation, and instead of heading to the shop with Doc he groggily wanders to his cone and refuses to be roused because he'd rather be miserable and asleep at home than miserable and awake in the clinic. That can wait 'til morning. End of discussion.

It's a mistake, and the most miserable night of his life because he cannot sleep because his body keeps jostling him awake to remind him that he cannot breathe, but maybe that's a learning experience, too. Sally says I told you so.

But whatever Sally's chagrin at their bold rejection of safe common sense, he'd never felt endangered. Besides, Doc was there. Red had been there. They'd only been training the edge, not derailing from it.

They talk about this on the radio a lot, as Lightning grows his career. How good he is at finishing, at clawing to first in the last laps of a race, out of the broiling pan straight into the cool shadow of that checkered flag.

And when the Cup introduces restrictor plate races, he's skilled at that, too. He adapts well to their breathless feeling, the way they steal power that you know you have--should have. Lightning owes a lot to that wildfire.

When asked about his training, Lightning simply replies, "Doc," even though Doc's been gone for four years and the last time ash rained down on Radiator Springs was even longer ago. His answer will always be Doc.

Lightning remembers almost nothing from the second that back tire goes out. He thinks remembers scrambling to keep hold of the track, but being at the mercy of the elements more than anything else. Correction: His elements. This is not a dust storm, it is not a tornado. It's not even the fire, raging in the mountains under lightning far above. This is the force of himself, and at 200 miles an hour, it plows him head-first into the wall.

They say he went airborne. They say he rolled--eight times, maybe more. Straight down the track, like a cue ball. Would've been gentler in the apron. It's a miracle he didn't injure anyone else.

He doesn't remember any of that, though he swears he can remember the pain.

His nurse swears he doesn't. "Trust me, honey. What you're feeling is the pain you're in right now," she says. She sounds like she might've already had this conversation with him a couple dozen times.

He might've had an out-of-body experience. He could see what was left of himself, splayed out on the track.

"They showed it on the screens," says Sally, who's there sometimes and not, which is confusing, especially when she tells him, "No, it's Friday," except it's Saturday, because it's race night, because the ambulance was only a moment ago, and normalcy was just one tire longer ago than that.

"Yeah, they showed that on the screens," she says, in response to whatever it was he just said. "Until they cut the visual, because they thought that maybe you--"

"It's Tuesday," says Sally. "You should get some sleep."

The ER is filled with ashy, fire-damaged cars who've just lost their homes to the blaze that razed the hills--the blaze which was, as it turns out, not so far away after all. The news is filled with the lightning storm that started it all, and doomed them. It's filled with news of Lightning, burning too. It's a testament to how this city works that they still spare him a private room.

The number of displaced cars climbs. The fire goes uncontained. There are two confirmed deaths.

Lightning dreams racing more than he dreams anything else. No surprises there. He dreams the dreams where you're supposed to run your heart out, but you can't. You can't make your wheels turn faster, can't get your engine to pump air through its cylinders, can't get the life inside you spin the way you know it needs to. That's how it always happens, in dreams.

But when he wakes, alone, in the hospital, he doesn't see the difference. He smells like smoke.

"They shouldn't let you watch that," says Sally, during visiting hours the next morning. It's a Wednesday. She shuts the news off mid-cycle. (The cycle goes McQueen, wildfire, McQueen wildfire, McQueen, community interest story about cats, McQueen, wildfire…)

When Lightning reminds her that he is extremely concussed and probably won't remember it anyway, she doesn't think it's funny. She says, "I don't care. You don't need to see that."

Whether he remembers it for five minutes or five years, he doesn't need to see that. And when you watch yourself fly through the air, the screen has a way of making five seconds into five minutes, five minutes into eternity. (Remember that wildfire? With Doc watching? Five hundred last-five-minutes. A lifetime of experience.)

When Sally is gone, the TV springs to life again. It asks, "Will this be McQueen's last?"

They frame it like a question. They don't mean it like one.

Lightning wants to bounce back. That's sort of his style. But it doesn't come naturally this time, so maybe it's not. And there are so many maybes clogging his mind they can't possibly be helping the concussion. Which is making him feel like garbage, by the way.

Maybe they were right, putting Doc out to pasture after '54. Maybe Rusty and Dusty are wrong, for not following suit; they're not exactly business moguls. They're constantly giving away free maintenance, free bottles of bumper oil. Heaven knows how they kept on top of all those sponsor deals. But who knows? Maybe Lightning doesn't have sponsors anymore. Harv has not exactly been in contact. Maybe it was wrong to end Doc's career, but not his. He's not the Fabulous Hudson Hornet, after all; he's just Lightning McQueen. And maybe experience is nothing against what a Next-Gen's got under the hood, white-hot or not.

Maybe it'd be a mistake to come back, because it was already a mistake to have stayed.

"Well, does it feel like you made a mistake?" Sally asks, having withstood this particular litany of maybes multiple times already. It's the first time she hasn't let him get away with his self-pity, so either he's looking better or she's finally annoyed.

"It feels like I'm in pain," Lightning mutters, distracted. He's trying to figure out if she's annoyed. Present circumstances make it hard to think in anything but worst-case scenarios.

"I know you are, Stickers. But that's not what I asked," says Sally, gently. She kisses him. Not annoyed, then.

Maybe.

It wasn't a mistake. He ran that race because he deserved to be there. And he ran it hard, because there's no other way to race. You leave your rubber on the road and your smoke in the air and if you have to eat your own glass, then you do it. If you gotta hold yourself together with tape, you do it. And if you hit a wall and you don't remember anything, anything but this moment right now, then you get right back out there and you keep running. Even under wildfire. Just because it feels like hell doesn't mean you're wrong.

They're rebuilding in the LA hills, now that the fire's choked itself out. The faces of the displaced Angelenos on TV are masks of grim determination. It's not a resilience story, or community interest story (that one is about harbor seals this time); it's a 'the fire took everything' story.

"Our home is gone," one of the cars points out. "And it feels like trash; and it ain't gonna stop feeling like that. But man, I don't gotta take it lying down! Of course we're gonna rebuild. And of course it's gonna be on that same hill! It's my hill! I know I can't say this on TV but--eff that fire, you know what I mean?"

Lightning knows what he means.

Four months later, that car is back up on his blackened hill, living large in a mail-order double wide with an ostentatiously lavish fountain sitting in his front yard. It's pearl white against black char, peppered with the green of the tender new growth that made it back with the winter rains. The fountain cost four times as much as his house and he doesn't regret a single dang thing.

It has a setting where you can make water shoot up into the air like fireworks, which he uses often. So he does that, and goes back inside. He flips his TV to the Daytona 500.

He looks for the 95.

#lightning mcqueen #doc hudson #sally carrera #pixar cars #cars fandom #cars fanfiction #cameos from red & sheriff & danny & chase #and a car with a fountain lol #come back to me in 2082 and I'll still be having emotions about this crash

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damienpgub351-blog · 5 years ago

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Driveways: Are They Covered By House Insurance Policy?

However, it's not IF a brand-new concrete driveway will break, yet WHEN it will certainly break.

How long will concrete last?

Allow all of the water to disappear before you do anything else. This can take 20 minutes or 4 hours depending on the temperature, humidity and how hard the wind is blowing. After the bleed water is all gone, you can get out your steel finishing trowel and put on the final touches.

No way would certainly I mount a 2 article lift without steel enhanced concrete grounds. If/ when the moment comes for a lift and also you ultimately choose which one to acquire (2 poles, 4 posts etc) lay it out specifically where it will certainly go and saw cut the piece. Dig your grounds as necessary, set up rebar as well as anchors etc, or else strategy and mount the footings CURRENTLY.

How long do concrete driveways last?

Silicone represents another popular material to use as a concrete caulk. It does not degrade as fast as the organic urethane https://www.scribd.com/document/459147261/164845Exactly-How-to-Put-Concrete caulks, and it remains flexible yet sturdy in its hold. One of the best uses for silicone caulk involves filling the gaps between concrete and other materials, such as brick, wood or metal.

It's readily available in concrete color, which makes certain that filled cracks assimilate with the remainder of the surface area. If you do not select the ideal shade to match with the concrete surface you wish to fix, the color of the filler can stick out and also look strange.

To make use of cool patch, tidy loosened particles from the fracture or opening. Chip away asphalt at an angle so all-time low of the hole is larger than the edge at surface level. (This is the difficult labor component.) The old asphalt edge at the surface area of the opening will aid hold the patch in place. To fill up a little fracture, start by using your hand yard devices to get rid of any plant matter and dirt from the split.

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Seal driveway but don't exaggerate it

There are various applications of concrete that require varying techniques and will certainly offer different degrees of resilience.

Concrete once it has aged comes to be absorptive, and a penetrating sealant obtains drawn into the surface area to produce a barrier that maintains water out.

Split control joints need to be put in any way re-entrant edges and slab penetrations, and also equally spaced throughout the rest of the piece.

This type of split is normally triggered by a hefty Concrete Paths automobile driving along the side of the driveway as well as putting pressure on the outdoors edge, the weakest spot.

Even if a fracture has actually created in a concrete surface area, it doesn't need to look unsightly.

Is it normal for concrete driveways to crack?

The most common cause of cracks in driveways is improper installation, usually in the form of a poorly constructed base or subbase. When this loose material gets moist, the freeze-thaw cycles cause the material to expand and contract, putting uneven pressure on the driveway and causing the concrete or asphalt to crack.

Concrete repair work professionals will give crack sealing as component of a solution bundle that consists of sealing. As stated, the various other option is just pour the slab as well as fret about a lift when/if the time ever before comes. We just cut the piece, excavated and put a concrete ground for each of the 4 article areas.

Is driveway sealing worth it?

How long does each driveway surface last? Typically, concrete lasts up to 30 years, while asphalt lasts up to 20 years. However, installers say driveways may need to be replaced sooner or last longer depending on upkeep.

Separated control joints can be filled to give the look of new continual piece. Use the dimension and also position of the fractures in your driveway to detect its issues and identify if you'll be able to DIY a repair.

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vacationsoup · 5 years ago

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New Post has been published on https://vacationsoup.com/?p=275494

[Duplicated:275491] Favorite Daytona 500 Thrills and Memories

What is your favorite Daytona 500 memory? Even non-race-car-fans have favorite Daytona 500 thrills and memories.

The Thunderbirds flyover as President Donald Trump, accompanied by first lady Melania Trump, stands during the national anthem before the start of the NASCAR Daytona 500 auto race at Daytona International Speedway, Sunday, Feb. 16, 2020, in Daytona Beach, Fla. (AP Photo/Alex Brandon)

Thunderbirds

Just prior to announcing the start of the race, the famous US Air Force Thunderbirds flyover the race track. Tucked 18 inches apart at 500 mph, the six F-16 falcons scream across the sky in their signature Delta formation above the World Center of Racing. Jaws drop in awe. American hearts swell with pride.

Danica Patrick, driver of the #7 GoDaddy Chevrolet, stands on the grid during qualifying for the Monster Energy NASCAR Cup Series Daytona 500 at Daytona International Speedway on February 11, 2018 in Daytona Beach, Florida. (Photo by Sarah Crabill/Getty Images)

DRIVERS START YOUR ENGINES

The anticipation and excitement builds and builds as the 101,000 fans await the famous words. Finally, after the famous words " DRIVERS START YOUR ENGINES", the thunderous roar of the 40 racing machines is visceral - you physically feel it. The crowd goes wild. A moment and a "feeling" not ever forgotten. The world famous words "Gentlemen Start Your Engines" is a trademark phrase owned by Indianapolis Speedway since 1995. The famous phrase at the beginning of Formula One and NASCAR races has been replaced by a more gender neutral phrase "Drivers Start Your Engines" since 2017. Ladies Janet Guthrie in 1977 (Formula One) and Danica Patrick in 2012 (NASCAR) became the first women drivers to compete at the top levels of racing.

Dale Sr and Dale Jr

Everyone knows the story of Dale Earnhardt and his son Dale Jr. Dale, the legendary #3, "The Intimidator", was a famous top driver , winning 69 Winston Cup races over his career until his horrific crash at age 49. . On the last lap of the Daytona 500 in 2001, he collided with two other cars and crashed into the wall of the 4th (final) turn. He died from head injuries. His son, Dale Jr, finished the race in second place, not knowing at the time of his father's fatal injuries. Dale Jr. continued racing to his own successful career, one of the most popular drivers ever. He won his second Daytona 500 ten years later. His fans appreciated his emotional courage in following in his father's footsteps while making his own mark, and dealing with the intrepidation he had to feel each time he raced that same 4th turn over his career. Another of Dale Sr.'s legacies, was the NASCAR organization's serious improvements made for driver safey after his death. The seatbelt and restraint harness systems were improved, and the tracks were upgraded with impact absorption barriers at key crash points. Of note, no driver has died during a NASAR race since that time.

https://youtu.be/Zfo88N2PFdc

Link to Video

1976 Final Two Laps of Daytona 500

Limping across the Finish Line

In 1976, Pearson and Petty crashed battling for the lead coming out of the fourth turn on the last lap of the Daytona 500. When both cars came to a rest, they had still not crossed the start/finish line. Petty’s car wouldn’t start but Pearson dumped the clutch and kept the car in neutral to slowly cross the finish line to capture the only Daytona 500 of his career. The finish was the slowest under green flag conditions in race history.

Crashes

The 2016 race was the only Daytona 500 since 2010 that did not have at least one wreck involving at least seven cars. The 2014 and 2017 races each had two wrecks with at least 10 cars each. There were 8 multi-car wrecks in the last three Daytona 500s — and 18 multi-car wrecks in the last nine Daytona 500s. In the final 10 scheduled laps of last year’s race, a wreck involving 21 cars unfolded, and the race was red-flagged — stopped. The race was restarted, and after one green-flag lap, there was a seven-car wreck, and the race was red-flagged again. Then there was an eight-car wreck. At speeds of 180-200 MPH (pole qualifier speeds) with inches separating the cars on a bumpy track, and drivers jockeying for position and drafting inches from the bumper in front of them - it is no wonder there are massive wrecks. As I write this today, we are waiting and hoping for a good outcome for Ryan Newman who wrecked and was seriously injured in the last lap of the race this year.

From Sand to Asphalt

Daytona Beach became the unofficial “Birthplace of Speed” in 1903 when two men argued over who had the fastest horseless carriage and decided things in a race on the white, hardpacked sand along the Atlantic Ocean. The speed competitions along the beach by 1958 had graduated to stock cars, which used a 3.2-mile course that combined both the beach and the city of Daytona. Bill France, then a local mechanic, entered the inaugural race on March 8, 1936, and finished fifth. France dabbled in racing for 10 years, became a promoter and founded NASCAR in 1947. By 1953, France recognized that development was going to make it nearly impossible to continue racing a course that utilized the city and the beach so he began plans on a permanent speedway. He signed a $2.5 million agreement a year later for what he decided would be a 2.5-mile tri-oval circuit with 31-degree banking. It was a wildly ambitious plan. “The World Center of Racing” was completed in 1959 and hosted the first Daytona 500 on Feb. 22. A crowd of more than 41,000 watched a field of 59 cars race for a purse of less than $70,000. The finish was so close it took three days to determine Lee Petty had edged Johnny Beauchamp. Here is a link to a fun article about the history of the race.

Riding on the track!

Take a spin on the famous track yourself

You can add to your favorite Daytona 500 thrills and memories by actually riding on the track! Tours of the track are available. When you walk on the track and try to climb up the 31 degree second turn, you will gain a new perspective of the amazing race. If you were in a car racing around the track, you would have to be going faster than 60 MPH to even make it around this turn without falling down to the infield. You can ride with a driver in a real race car or even drive a race car. Depends on how adventurous you are and how much money you are willing to spend. I can say, after having ridden shot gun in a race car at 160 mph up next to the wall, and picturing two other cars crammed close beside me on the 3 wide turn, I am amazed at how they race at all. By the way, this was the best $199 I ever spent. It was really a trill of a lifetime. I am still grinning! Here is the link for the NASCAR RACING EXPERIENCE.

Mark your calendars

Mark your calendars for the next Sunday before President's Day - the traditional date for the Daytona 500 each year. The race has sold out over the last 6 years so don't wait til the last moment! You will likely add to your favorite Daytona 500 thrills and memories!

0 notes

nervouswreck-96 · 7 years ago

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Alone Together - a Sonic fanfic

I posted this one back in February, before I deleted my original “nervouswreck-96″ account. Now I’m trying to reach out to see how many people out there recognize me, or how many are interested in my stories.

This story was inspired by a Reddit writing prompt by /u/RedTeamOverseer: “You buy your son a teddy bear. Unknown to you, the bear pledged his life to your son. Every night, it protects your son from the monsters in the dark.” (I know I'm stretching that prompt a little, but I hope it works out.)

You may notice that the progression in the story is not linear. It zig-zags around, going from normal progression to flashback and back again. Anyone who's seen Lost, Memento, or Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind will be somewhat familiar with this mode of storytelling. I thought the story would be more powerful and affecting this way, but I just thought I'd warn you before I get comments about how confusing this story is to follow. Within the narrative, there are also references to another story I hadn’t quite started yet but knew the basic plot details of: One Leg to Stand On, which takes place just before this in my canon. You can read it here.

Sonic the Hedgehog hated hospitals. He understood the point of them well enough; he just despised the very idea of entering one himself. He had just gotten out of one, and the experience certainly did not change his mind on the matter. And yet there he was, on a wheeled stretcher, getting rolled off of the ambulance toward the emergency room of Little Neck Medical Center.

The force of the straps that held him down felt like a massive boulder weighing down on his entire body. He was strapped down so tightly to the stretcher that he was unable to tilt his head more than the slightest bit. Shrapnel was lodged deep in Sonic's legs from the attack, rendering them momentarily useless. Even the force of the freezing wind against his gauze coverings caused his burns to erupt into searing, flaming pain.

Yet, somehow, Sonic felt none of it.

In the deep recesses of his mind, the physical pain that he was suffering bothered him. It certainly didn't make him feel any better. But the conscious part of his mind was dominated by one thing, and one thing only.

"How...how is..." Sonic summoned all of his remaining strength to say.

Steven, one of the paramedics helping to move him out of the ambulance, finished his thought for him. "Your friend is in the emergency care wing. I'm sorry, but there's not much more I can tell you," he said, trying to disguise his irritation under a mask of concern. This was at least the third time Steven had been asked that question, and given the stress of the job he was performing, it was easy for him to lose count.

Tails...if you're in there...please tell me you're okay.

All Sonic could see was the dubious glitter of the torrential rainfall, illuminated by the red and white sirens from ambulances parked in every direction. The downpour helped to wash away some of the blood that was caked all over him, only some of which actually belonged to him. He couldn't see very much at all from his vantage point, but he could still feel. The vibrations under his stretcher were the only thing he had to prove that he was actually moving.

Not fast enough, evidently.

"F...faster," Sonic said, coughing as he spoke.

No response. His voice was too weak at this point to penetrate the chaotic cacophony of sirens, shouting, and wheels clattering on asphalt. If the paramedics weren't going to speed things up, Sonic would have to do it himself.

With what little remained of his strength, he pushed off of his arms and vibrated his entire body back and forth in his bed, as a baby in a stroller would do. His efforts proved futile, as the stretcher merely shook back and forth a few inches from its constant forward progression. The only major effect he caused was the further irritation of the two people who were transporting him.

"I told you this one would be a problem," said Steven.

The other paramedic, Amanda, was not interested. "I don't care if he kicks me in the nose! We are transporting a legendary hero here. Now move it!" she said.

Finally, somebody's showing a bit of URGENCY around here!

Every fibre in his body roared at him to break free of his buckles and charge into that hospital to look for his friend himself. Even if it meant searching every single room, even if it meant he had to limp and crawl and bleed his way through the corridors, even if it meant reducing his legs to wee little stumps to do so, he would risk it all to find closure.

No...remember the last time you fought with these people? Let 'em go. They're tryin' their best.

Sonic slumped back in his gurney, physically and mentally spent. He may as well have been in the same position Tails occupied during the battle, trapped in the clutches of Eggman's mechanical claw. After all, both afforded the same levels of powerlessness.

Everything was in the hands of the two paramedics, who were stuck with the unenviable task of rushing him through the emergency wing. He could only look upward, toward the unforgiving rainy skies, and hope.

Hope. Funny thing, that.

They lay their lives on the line for each other. It was only fitting that their mangled bodies would land face-down next to each other on the street.

The town reverberated from the sound of the blast. Shop windows, telephone poles, and power lines were shattered and ripped apart by the shockwave alone. Fire hydrants, mailboxes, trash cans, trash, and all manner of flotsam from the streets were torn from their foundations and flung miles away. Bits and pieces of Eggman's machine could be found lodged in brick-and-mortar foundations, on rooftops, and in the lake over a mile from ground zero.

And at the center of it all were Sonic and Tails.

The fox's idea had worked out about as perfectly as could be expected of it. Sonic was far enough away from the machine so that the explosion barely touched him, his special rubber soles helping him to maintain his footing. By then, he was reduced to using his one good arm together with his two aching legs to keep his face and chest suspended above the street. In the short interval before his hand inevitably slipped on the wet pavement, he scanned the entire area for any signs of another body.

45 degrees to his left, it appeared, with an aura of smoke being the dead giveaway to its presence.

There was no one else around. That had to be Tails. Regardless, Sonic was going over there to find out, broken bones be damned. Pushing off of his arm, he gradually moved himself into a position where he could finally stand up…

…and fell straight back down.

Sonic pounded his fist into the street. Why wasn't he moving?

One look down at his legs revealed the answer. The explosion had caused small pieces of shrapnel from Eggman's mech to fly into the air, and it just so happened that one of them – a large, green, metallic object, probably a computer chip or something – had gotten lodged in Sonic's left thigh. The realization dawned on him that the puddle that he was now lying in was not a puddle of rain.

Growling, Sonic simply yanked the offending shrapnel through several layers of punctured skin and threw it aside. If he was going to reach his friend, he would have to crawl to him.

Weakened from battle, his arms were nonetheless his only means of propulsion. The hedgehog advanced forward one inch at a time, scraping his chest along the asphalt each step of the way. Each thought and impulse concerning his own pain, Sonic used as fuel for his quest.

And then he fell again, smacking his face on the pavement.

Sonic's spirit was willing, but his body was simply not up to the task. With single-minded intensity, he moved his arms around to attempt to get back up. Only as he flung his shoulder blades in every which direction did he feel a sensation almost alien to him: numbness. Even as they scraped against the asphalt, there was simply no feeling left in his arms. They may as well have not been there at all.

No matter. He had gotten close enough to Tails. And what he saw wasn't pretty.

The vague image of a creature that lay before him, illuminated only by flickering streetlights, only vaguely matched Sonic's visual profile of Tails. There were spots of orange fur, but they were now the exception rather than the rule, overshadowed by larger patches of black all over the body. Were it not for his twin tails, he would have been nigh-unrecognizable even to Sonic. The fox faced his own fight for survival now, something that Sonic vowed to never let happen as long as he was conscious.

Writhing in agony, Tails tried to summon the very strength that he could only look up to Sonic for. Sonic could beat this. This pain would be but a pin-prick to him. And if he could beat this, then so could Tails.

But affirmations can only get someone so far.

Within seconds, the searing, burning sensation began to consume the fox alive. This was hell. He had been thrown into a pit of molten sulfur, and devils were sticking pitchforks in unmentionable places. His eyes were glued shut by his own fatigue, so for all he knew, that scenario was a distinct possibility.

With all of the energy left in his muscles, he convulsed and rolled on the cold, wet ground in small fits. He clenched every muscle he possibly could, an animalistic instinct that the logic center of his brain told him would be as effective against the pain as putting a Band-Aid on a brain tumor, but the emotional center of his brain accepted as the only immediate response. He looked to the cold moisture left on the road surface for desperate relief. No such luck. The combination of freezing cold water, exposed burning flesh, and gritty asphalt only served to pierce his wounds further.

The only thing that could dwarf this feeling was the knowledge that Sonic was going through the very same experience. But any hope that it would provide comfort through shared experience died a swift death. After all, that was exactly what Tails was trying to prevent Sonic from in the first place.

They could only stare at each other and what they had been reduced to. For all they had sacrificed for each other, including their very lives, there was nothing more they could possibly give. It seemed that the two were all alone. Alone together, floating in a cosmic void where the only language was pain and the only elements were fire and brimstone.

Slowly, slowly but surely, Tails sank deeper and deeper into this void. Part of his brain knew the grim reality of this feeling. The rest of it simply didn't care. He was ready to embrace nothingness, escape this suffering, even if it meant…

And then the wail of a siren off in the distance jolted Tails out of his reverie. The ambulance had arrived.

As in, the ambulance. There was only one.

The vehicle to which their lives would be entrusted was merely a funeral hearse painted white, with a siren and the accompanying ambulance stickers placed on as an afterthought – a bitter irony that wouldn't have been lost on the two if they were in the proper condition to process it. The back was barely large enough to fit one stretcher and body, plus necessary equipment. Needless to say, the emergency services in the town of Little Neck were stretched taut.

Two gruff paramedics, with the hardened faces of men who had seen such devastation before, leapt out of the back of the makeshift ambulance without a moment's hesitation, dragging a proper stretcher with an IV bag attached. Predictably, their first instinct was to move towards Sonic. After all, he was everything to everyone who lived on Earth. The all-conquering, charismatic, invincible hero.

If only they knew, Sonic thought.

The paramedics lowered the stretcher, preparing to move Sonic onto it as gently as possible. With all of the fight left in his left arm, Sonic gave one of the EMTs a light shove on the backside. Miraculously, he noticed, turning around to face the hedgehog. "Don't worry. Everything's gonna be all right," he said.

It took every morsel of energy just for Sonic to keep that arm aloft. But at least he had this man's undivided attention. Now was the moment. He couldn't turn back time, but he could do this.

"Th…there…another," said Sonic, his arm flopping to the ground that very same moment, finger pointed firmly at what had remained of Tails. It had done its job; after all, his friend was on the same plane of height as he was. Even speaking was difficult. As that lone word sputtered painfully out of his mouth, his subconscious noted a small pool forming in the back of his throat.

The paramedic who was keeping a close watch over him – who, from what Sonic could faintly make out from his nametag, was named Bruce – was so grimly focused on the condition of the patient he was taking on, he paid no mind to the hedgehog's gesture. That was best left to his compatriot working the scene.

"Yo, Larry, scope out that area for me, will ya?" Bruce asked.

"10-4."

Normally, the business of finding bodies was left to policemen, national guardsmen, and others who were trained for the task. But with devastation on the scale of this, bodies naturally presented themselves to anyone who looked hard enough. When Larry caught a bundle of smoldering wreckage in his peripheral vision, right in the area where Sonic was pointing, he approached the task of investigating it with the same stoicism required of him by his position.

It didn't last.

"Holy shit! Larry, get over here now!"

Bruce fought with Sonic – whose reflexes were more than he could handle – to apply bandages to his wounds, when he heard Larry's call from off in the distance. Heeding the call, Bruce dropped what he was doing and went off to join his colleague, prompting a sigh of relief from the hedgehog.

Bruce thought they were looking at a pile of burned rags. A soiled beanbag chair. Whatever it was, it couldn't have been living. Then again, that was exactly what Larry thought at first, until he noticed two strained, squinting, bloodshot eyes face-down at the bottom of the pile, blinking rapidly in tune with his pulse, the first sign to the two paramedics that this bundle of misery still had a spark of life in it.

At that moment, Larry and Bruce came to the same grim conclusion that Sonic had pointed them towards: who needed that lone ambulance more.

Larry motioned for Bruce to wheel over the crew's only stretcher, which was still lowered to the ground in preparation for Sonic's transportation. There was nothing more the hedgehog could do now but lie back, soak in the devastation that Eggman had created around him, watch as the merciless rain soaked his wounded body, and wait for his own ambulance to come – if it ever did.

Well, Tails, that was the least I could do.

Finally, Sonic was wheeled through the entrance and on through the ground floor. Just as he passed through the threshold, Sonic instinctively squinted his eyes. With his body strapped down and his head facing permanently upward, the transition from "overcast night sky" to "brightly-lit hospital front hallway" was a rough one.

Once inside, all of the old and familiar stimuli came calling back to Sonic. The coldness. Not the friendly kind of coldness that you would feel walking into a café on a hot summer day, but the sterile kind of coldness you feel when being dragged into a meat locker. Then there was the fact that every square inch of the building seemed to be painted white, or tiled white, or otherwise colored white. Probably to give that false impression that this was a place of magic and sunshine where nothing bad could possibly happen, Sonic reasoned.

Worst of all, there was that low droning sound that emanated across the entire hallway, echoing off of every tile on the floor, walls, and ceiling. It occasionally varied and wobbled in timbre and pitch, but unmercifully, not in volume. Sonic assumed the worst.

That's not some machine. Those are people.

As his stretcher passed by a few of the beds on the first floor, his fears were confirmed. For once, it seemed all too fortunate that he was unable to tilt his neck to the left or right, because he couldn't see what was happening in each room. Still, he could hear everything.

The sounds of terror poured one after another into both ears. Moans. Groans. Screams. Agony. With each room it only got more ear-piercing. Heart-wrenching. Subconscious impulses flared up within the hedgehog. Without even realizing it, his fingers, some of the only parts of his body that were fully functional and mobile, began to twitch and ball up into fists.

Sonic's medical expertise basically amounted to "take pill to stop pain in head" and "put sticky thing on wound to stop red stuff from pouring out". Not that he cared. He desperately wanted to leap out of that bed and do anything – anything – to somehow end their suffering.

Damn that Eggman.

Before Sonic could even begin to regain his composure, Amanda placed a hand on his chest. It was a gentle hand, but not quite gentle enough to avoid sending the hedgehog's abdominal pain into overdrive the instant it pressed down.

"Sir..." she said, "I'm gonna have to ask you to calm down. Any rapid movement will further open your wounds."

Great. Apparently I'm not allowed to breathe anymore either.

Suddenly, Sonic's stretcher was brought to a halt. Was this the spot? Was this where he would find the truth about his friend? Emerald eyes perked open…

…and then slammed shut again once he heard a ding and the whoosh of two doors closing together, realizing he had merely been moved into an elevator traveling upward to another floor.

At least he had time to think.

The hedgehog had seen himself nearly drowned, crushed, asphyxiated, marooned in outer space, and beaten to within an inch of his life on multiple occasions. He thrived – no, lived– on this adrenaline, the sheer thrill of dancing with death only to abandon it on the ballroom floor. It was only a matter of time before death finally struck back. But he wasn't prepared for it to strike Tails as well. Tails should never have been part of this at all. All he wanted was to follow Sonic into battle, not out of some poor sense of direction or lack of self-reliance, but because he wanted to. He couldn't stomach the thought of Sonic throwing himself into danger without being there to absorb some of it, even if it meant…this.

This was the price of being a friend of Sonic the Hedgehog.

For once, the daredevil looked back to the past, and questioned himself.

Was it worth it?

Mercifully for him, the elevator bell rang, interrupting him before he was forced to ponder this question any more deeply. He had reached the third floor. Tails' floor…hopefully.

The injured victims of the attack had already overflowed closer hospitals in the area, as well as the lower floors of this one. Doctors, nurses, surgeons, and relatives of the injured ran back and forth throughout Little Neck Medical Center like chickens with their heads cut off, desperately seeking supplies, space, and answers. Never had it seen such an influx of patients in such a small amount of time.

Sonic held it together, remembering his true reason for being here.

"He's..." Sonic said. Every word coming out of his mouth reignited the fire that had ignited deep within his body, but more to the point, his soul. With each consonant, he was forced to cough small droplets of blood up into the air, which inevitably landed back on his already-stained face. Still, he pressed on. "He's up here...right?"

The two paramedics, still rolling the stretcher with the urgency of champion bobsledders, exchanged a passing glance. They were paramedics, after all – not grief counselors. No matter how many cases they would ever receive, they had no training in how to handle this sort of situation, especially not with such a case as Sonic the Hedgehog.

Steven nodded his head. It was time to tell him the truth.

"Your friend asked to see you the second he was brought in. The doctors told us to give you the space right next to him," he said.

Steven expected a twitch of protest, a kick, a shake of the stretcher, or something from the unruly hedgehog in response to this news. For once, nothing of the sort happened. Instead, Sonic's face contorted into an expression unlike any that either of the EMTs had seen during their three-minute journey. Steven looked deep into Sonic's eyes and saw a profound sense of renewal that contrasted against his mangled, stained body. His eyes seemed to be reignited with a green flame that signified life itself. He looked as if he could jump out of his restraints under his own power – a possibility that the two were told to be prepared for.

The fact that he had a friend – no, a brother – who would go to the ends of the earth for him was of little concern at that very moment. The only thing in the world that mattered to Sonic the Hedgehog was that Tails was still hanging on.

He's gonna be okay. He's gonna be okay. Hope had returned...for a moment.

"I should warn you, though..." Steven continued.

Oh, no.

The paramedic leaned in and whispered the final part of that statement so softly that Sonic was unable to hear it. The hedgehog was so busy comprehending the sheer intrinsic power of the words that he actually did manage to make out, he didn't stop to make out what Steven had said to him afterwards. Or maybe Sonic was trying to block out the fact that he actually heard the words, "He's fading."

Before Sonic could stop to ponder the gravity of the situation, his three-floor journey had come to a sudden end. The EMTs turned his gurney to one side and unbuckled the straps that held the bed to the wheeled portion, finally freeing Sonic from his mobile prison. As he was gently placed onto the hospital bed, a whole new group of men and women in sterile white clothing were waiting for him. They scanned the hedgehog's body, invading personal space if necessary to assess his injuries and formulate a strategy.

Normally, strangers examining Sonic closely using tools – especially pokey ones – would set him off. However, this time, he made little protest, especially considering he had been through this exact scenario previously. Besides, something else had caught his eye. With his regained ability to tilt his head, he focused his eyes on one thing: a curtain. Colored white, appropriately enough.

Sonic realized right away that the curtain must have divided his room from Tails'. Like some horribly sadistic game show, its opening would reveal the fate that his surrogate little brother was placed in.

Deep within his tortured mind, a small part of him was afraid to look through. On the other hand, Sonic had accomplished nothing in life by running away from the truth.

"Somebody…open the curtain," Sonic wheezed, before hacking up another pint of internal bleeding. Not one of them was willing to disobey a request from the planet's greatest hero. One doctor dropped the stethoscope that he was using to measure Sonic's skyrocketing heart rate, rushed to the other side of the room, and threw open the curtain before hastily returning to his duty.

The trails of light from the hospital bulbs that whizzed by him remained fixed in his retina, making it hard for him to focus his vision. However, the vague image of a creature that was in the bed next to his didn't match Sonic's visual profile of Tails. There were spots of orange fur, but they were overshadowed by larger patches of black on the head and chest. Perhaps this was someone else, another sapient creature who also happened to have been caught up in the attack.

All fleeting hope vanished when Sonic noticed two bushy tails dangling from the bed.

Little Neck was a small, thriving fishing port…once.

But after Dr. Eggman invaded, all of those fish were killed prematurely, along with some of the men who angled for them. The boats they used to do that fishing, along with the piers they were connected to, were reduced to misplaced wooden splinters in an oil-soaked sea. Miles of pristine, sandy beach were burrowed, tunnelled up, and torn apart in clumps of chaos. The air hung thick with clouds of smoke produced by the many small fires that were created throughout the town in houses, residential buildings, and small businesses that had been torn to shreds. Only a few of the smaller conflagrations were lucky enough to be extinguished by water that came gushing forth from broken fire hydrants and water mains laid to waste in the wake of Eggman's machine. The narrow streets were littered with stalled vehicles of all kinds, their owners and passengers having left them behind in the mad rush to escape the destruction as quickly as possible. What once was a hidden gem of a town tucked away on the lower continent had been reduced to a disaster area.

So you could excuse Sonic for feeling a bit ticked off.

Ground zero was straight ahead. At his speed, an ocean of endless changing lines protruded from the center of his vision. The one constant in his field of view was a barren, ruined patch of land directly at the center, which only grew in size with each lunging step.

"Sonic! There it is!" shouted Tails, following right behind.

"I see it!" said Sonic. "You ready?"

"Ready!" Tails flashed a thumbs-up at his comrade.

"'Cause we're goin' in!"

Pure instinct and experience told Sonic the right time to stop. When that time came, he lifted his feet from their endless motion and slammed them into the ruined streets of Little Neck. His specialized rubber soles did the rest of the work, bringing him to a dead stop just inches before he was to become pancaked against the steel frame of his newest nemesis.

Standing before him was the latest creation of the E-Series, Dr. Eggman's main line of mega-sized hedgehog-hunter robots. It certainly had all the hallmarks – taller than an office building, stuffed to the gills with ordinance weapons, and created in the imposing, portly image of its inventor.

Dr. Eggman, finally noticing the new arrivals, brought his new toy into a full 180-degree turn, first twisting one of its massive hydraulic-powered legs and then the other, in a process so plodding that Sonic resorted to tapping his foot in frustration waiting for it to end. Eventually, Eggman faced the two head-on.

"Sonic," said Eggman, his voice tinged with venom. "And you've brought your friend."

Sonic turned to his right briefly. A cursory glance confirmed that Tails not only followed him to the right place, but that he was standing right beside him, putting his fists up in a hackneyed attempt to convey toughness toward the enemy. The hedgehog had gotten so confident in Tails' ability to catch up to him that he hardly felt the need to look back to check on him anymore.

"I should've known you couldn't resist the chance to meddle in my affairs," Eggman continued. The mad doctor paused for Sonic's inevitable inane repartee. However, he was met only by a fierce glare from his opponent. Eggman met the silence with a satisfied chuckle. "Heh. No matter. There's only one Chaos Emerald in this sleepy hamlet for the three of us."

"I don't care what it is you want, Eggman!" said Sonic. "We're gonna send you back where you came from!"

"We?"

Eggman paused on that question for a disconcertingly long time. The next words came out of his mouth in an alarming baritone the likes of which Sonic and Tails had never heard out of him before. "Yes. 'We', indeed." Those words made him chuckle. That chuckle would grow into a laugh, which grew into a fit of uproarious, hysterical cackling.

Acting out of his purest instinct, Sonic grabbed Tails' hand and held it steady and firm, for comfort, for protection, for a little bit of last-minute psyching up before the fight, for whatever it was that he needed.

"What is he…" Tails tried to ask, before he was cut off.

"It doesn't matter," said Sonic. "Because so help me, if he hurts you too…"

"That's not what I'm worried about."

Sonic sighed. Once again they had reached the eternal stalemate that was their friendship.

They turned back toward Dr. Eggman, who - somehow - was still not finished with his ranting yet. "Well, heroes, can you withstand the full might of my…" said Eggman, pausing for the fullest impact. "…Egg Ravager?"

Ravager this time, huh? Naming skills up to par. Sonic thought.

"Just give me five seconds, Egg-breath," said Sonic.

One look at Eggman's face confirmed the outcome. All bets were off.

In one instant, the Ravager flexed its stainless-steel muscle before the two heroes that it dwarfed in size and might. With numerous clicks, whirrs, and switches, various weapons emerged from the Ravager's limbs. Laser weapons. Gatling guns. And, of course, no E-Series machine would be complete without a battalion of missiles, exposing themselves to Sonic and Tails via camera shutter-style doors on its chest, one for each individual missile.

But before Eggman got the chance to use them, he gazed out of his cockpit window to find that Sonic and Tails had already left their starting positions.

"What?! C'mere, you troublesome pests!" said Eggman. "Make yourselves nice little targets!"

By the time he had realigned the Ravager to attack, Sonic and Tails were already off and running, having gone their own separate paths.

The hedgehog had reversed his direction, making ample use of the vast space afforded to him by ground zero, every square inch of it necessary to gain the momentum he sorely needed for an attack. The Ravager was unleashing the full force of its arsenal on Sonic, launching missile after missile and firing blistering green lasers from the cannons on its shoulders. The hedgehog rose up to the challenge, deftly dodging each blast like a majestic gazelle, sliding, leaping, spinning, doing whatever it took, all the while never losing a step.

Eventually, the view was too dusty from gunfire and debris for Eggman to see a thing out of his cockpit. He knew there was action taking place outside his machine, he just couldn't tell what.

"Grrrrhough…aim straight, you lousy hunk of junk!" said Dr. Eggman, shaking his control column to and fro.

"Heh! Your move, Tails!" shouted Sonic.

Sonic had more than gained momentum for an attack; he had successfully lured away Dr. Eggman's full attention, leaving the fox undetected. Hovering well above the action, Tails – reversing every animal instinct he had learned to that point – brought the helicopter motion of his tails to a complete stop. Turning his body forward like a diver from the high platform, he closed his eyes and awaited the surge of wind that was soon to follow.

This had better work…

Tails was familiar with the sort of design that Eggman was utilizing. After all, he himself had single-handedly felled similar robots in the past: first in the center of Station Square after Eggman's bomb failed to detonate, and once again on Space Colony ARK after Sonic was assumed dead at Eggman's hands (the latter with the aid of his own equivalent walker robot, admittedly). From this experience, he was able to guess the weak spots on the machine that stood before them now. The hard part was reaching them.

As soon as Tails opened his eyes, he realized he was not going down fast enough, so he twisted his tails to give himself a bit of a boost. He timed his attack to perfection – the Ravager was lumbering forward, protruding its massive forelegs well in front of the rest of its body, ideal for somebody who was attacking from the air. Just before the ground, Tails curled his body into his own version of Sonic's famous super-spin, and braced for the inevitable impact of fragile fox body against reinforced steel.

He got something else entirely.

Right before the moment of impact, Tails landed in something that he knew wasn't the leg of a robot. Whatever it was, it felt like he had landed in an ocean of pins and needles. The fox struggled to break free, but the invisible menace had immobilized him, rising up to swallow every fiber of his body, leaving nothing untouched, in a moment so drawn out that he couldn't have realized that it had only lasted one second.

Static electricity. Unhealthy for those that carried as much body fur as Miles "Tails" Prower.

The static built up to the point where it propelled Tails upward and out of its own malicious embrace, leaving him flailing uncontrollably through the air. Fortunately, with the help of his two tails, he was able to reorient himself spatially. It came at a price, however: for a moment, he needed to reexamine which way was up.

That done, Tails looked down to find out what natural force had just put him through that miniature form of hell. Surrounding the Egg Ravager was a translucent, glowing white bubble of electricity, which stretched all over the entire diameter of the craft, but was strongest and brightest at the point where the fox hit: just above the roof. A groan escaped from Tails' mouth when he realized he had not even come close to hitting the target.

Realizing he was a sitting duck where he was, Tails tilted his propellers downward to go into forward motion. Despite their distance, he and Sonic somehow found each other in mid-stride and made eye contact.

"It's shielded!" Tails shouted.

As if Sonic didn't know. He had been watching the same scene play out before him, even as he was running around the battlefield shaking off every homing weapon aimed at him. The setback had forced him to abandon his ambush on the Ravager.

"Time for Plan B!" said Sonic. If they weren't in a life-or-death struggle, Tails would have taken the time to ask Sonic if there was ever a Plan A.

With authority, Sonic pointed toward the skies, away from Eggman's craft. Without a moment of hesitation, Tails diverted from his flight path.

Sonic was in luck. An overhanging street sign had been left standing, but all of the actual signage had been blown off during the initial invasion. With one precise, daring leap, the hedgehog soared majestically to the perfect height and grabbed on to the structure with remarkable ease. Aided by hands that were well above the size of those of the average human, the hedgehog swung his entire body round and round on the horizontal pole like a gymnast on a horizontal bar, gaining speed with each rotation. With impeccable sense of direction, rotation, and height, Sonic released himself from the pole at the right time so that he soared off toward the atmosphere…

…where, naturally, Tails was hovering above the ground at the spot, waiting for him.

Sonic stretched out his left arm to meet Tails' right. The two grabbed hold with an iron grip that seemingly no earthly force could tear apart. With help from the momentum of Sonic's pull, Tails brought the motion of one of his tails to a stop, sending the two into a literal tailspin. With each cycle, the two became a whirling dervish, gaining enough speed for their physical forms to lose all sense of comprehension to the naked eye. And yet Sonic's grip remained unyielding, applying just enough pressure to hang on, but not quite enough to hurt Tails' hand. It was a powerful, yet almost relaxed hold they had on each other, confident in the knowledge that nothing beyond their control would ever tear it apart.

Finally, with almost geometric precision, Tails picked the perfect second to strike. After their nauseating centrifugal embrace, the two released their grip.

With blinding speed, Sonic somersaulted toward the dead-center of Eggman's machine. Before the doctor could even react, the hedgehog struck down on the cockpit with devastating force, creating a miniature shockwave that reduced nearby windows to shreds. Like a cobalt pinball, Sonic bounced toward the ground with the exact same force with which he entered, uncurling only to skid to a stop along the ground, his soles tearing out several feet of asphalt along the way.

The deafening impact prompted Eggman to gaze down over his cockpit window to gauge the level of destruction. His face went red when he fully grasped the scope of what he saw: the once-mighty shield now had a hedgehog-sized hole ripped in it. Visible bolts of static electricity exposed the area where the shield had been compromised, but soon enough, the hole grew in diameter, erasing every bit of the shield until, finally, it was altogether eliminated from existence.

Eggman's security blanket had been rudely ripped off. He was exposed in all of his vulnerability. As he clung desperately to his control joysticks, he silently vowed to himself that somebody had to fall for this.

Just above his cockpit, he found that somebody.

There was no ruined city, no Egg Ravager, no Sonic in Tails' vision. There were only vague, spastic horizontal lines. Two weary tails worked twice as hard to keep the light-headed fox airborne while he tried to keep down his own lunch. As he desperately tried to shake his head back into a state of airworthiness, his mind repeatedly posed the question, "What were you thinking?"

Without warning, before he could find the answer to that question, he felt the cold, hard press of metal on both sides of his chest.

He had little time to react before he was yanked backward with nearly enough force to dislodge his organs from their places, only to be jerked forward to a complete stop just as suddenly. The rush of wind at his back was enough to bring him out of his trance. Frantically, he waved his head in all directions to see what it was that had captured him. The answer was just below him: he was caught in the grasp of the Egg Ravager's massive hydraulic-powered hand. There was no escape; his arms were pressed firmly against his sides, and although his tails were free, there was no possible avenue to use them. The one time he needed to breathe most, the tightness of the Ravager's grip stunted each breath before it could really start.

Even as Sonic raced around the battlefield with the focal point of his vision spinning around at a dizzying pace, his eyes were fixed solely on Tails' predicament. They were so fixed, in fact, that they didn't even notice the ballistic missiles that were approaching him from the rear.

Tails, fearful of seeing his friend's entrails spilling over the ruins of Little Neck, followed his first instinct. He shouted out to the hedgehog.

Or at least, tried to shout out.

Had he been allowed to, his voice would have pierced heaven and earth. Unfortunately, Eggman foresaw this possibility. No sooner had Tails opened his mouth than the Ravager been ordered to clamp its firm, yet delicate fingers down further on the captive fox. His scream came out more as a desperate choke for air. With no recourse left, he shoved his left arm out forward and backward repeatedly with his index finger pointed toward Sonic, hoping that the rapid movement would somehow be detected in the hedgehog's peripheral vision.

From afar, Sonic could only interpret this one way. "Hold on tight, buddy!" he said, turning his body toward the Ravager.

Tails slammed his eyes shut and awaited the inevitable.

One blast.

Two blasts.

Masonry crumbling.

Teeth gnashing.

One prolonged groan of agony.

By the time Tails successfully fought off his own conscience and opened his eyes, Sonic had been thrown head-first into the ruins of an office building, his body caved so deeply in the brick foundation that he simply would not slide back down. Coming to grips with what he saw, Tails realized that he had seen the complacent veneer of their shared invincibility collapse before his very eyes along with the hedgehog's body.

And then worse started to happen. Sonic began to move.

Only here did the extent of the injuries become clear for all to see. As soon as Sonic got over the shock of what had just happened to him, he applied enough force backwards with his arms to shove himself a few inches further out of the groove he had made in the wall – hard to do when he had been crucified, in the most literal sense of the word. Though he himself couldn't see it, Tails couldn't un-see the blood gushing out of where the missiles had impacted the hedgehog's right side. Wherever the wound stopped, because it was hard to tell, a patch of deep burns began on fur that had just seconds earlier been as vibrant and blue as the morning skies. But the one detail that Tails couldn't escape was the ironic juxtaposition of Sonic's physical condition and the relatively stable expression of his face. Just from looking at it, one would think he had just been tripped on the sidewalk without an apology.

It was one of those many, many questions that Tails had about Sonic but never had the time to ask. Was he truly that calm under pressure? Did he simply not know the limits of his own body? Was he incapable of even feeling pain? Or even worse…was he not?

Just as the reverberating commotion from the blasts died down, a new one popped in – the hiss from Eggman's P.A. system. "Ladies and gentlemen…well, in this case, just gentleman…" said Dr. Eggman. "…you will be the lucky few to see, up-close and personal, the greatest entertainment event of all-time! The ultimate downfall of Sonic the Hedgehog!"

"Heh…typical Eggman," Sonic said, though it took quite a bit of effort to make sure Dr. Eggman could hear him from his high perch. "Can't just…cut to the chase, can ya?"

"Shut up." Though Eggman's command was whispered, the megaphone sent the message out loud and clear.

"Not until you hand him over!"

"If I were you, I'd be a bit more worried about yourself, hedgehog!"

Before Sonic could even think of making a move, he saw something bright and metallic headed straight for his broken body. Suspended in a figurative sea of bricks and mortar, there was nowhere to run, nowhere to escape.

Sonic expected another simple blunt force impact. He got that, and so much more. The good news was that he was out of the wall. The bad news was that the Ravager's other hand had taken him in his grasp. Five mechanical fingers gave him the cruelest massage he could have ever imagined, crushing him, rubbing against all of his sore spots, and finally suspending him off the ground by his right hind leg.

That very second, Eggman yanked a lever on his control column. Without warning, Tails was raised another few feet above the scene. By the time the fluent mechanical motion had finished, Tails and Eggman were on the same plane of verticality that they could make personal eye contact. And Tails didn't like what he saw. There was a look in Dr. Eggman's eyes the likes of which he had never seen before, in all the battles they had fought over the years. The smiling, clownlike demeanor was gone. Tails was looking into the face of a cold-blooded killer.

"Nice of you to join me, fox-boy," said Dr. Eggman. "I thought we could watch this little moment…together."

Sonic waved his arms and shook his head as vigorously as his body would allow, maybe a bit more so, in a desperate plea for Tails' attention. His conscience couldn't bear the thought of letting the raw, eight-year-old fox watch this. A sick feeling emerged in the pit of Tails' stomach once the realization hit. Sonic knew what was coming.

And then Tails knew what was coming. And that's when he saw red.

With unimaginable fury, he clawed at the Egg Ravager's index finger, the one that cut off much of the circulation to his lower body. Several furious swipes at polished steel later, he had made no progress. With all of his might, he pushed down on his arms with and attempted to squeeze his way out. Beads of sweat poured down the fox's face to match the ever-increasing downpour, as he struggled to lift himself out of his bind. But it was no use. The Ravager's hold on him was just too tight.

The arm that quite literally held Sonic's life in its hands rocketed forward at full speed toward the same brick wall that it had just plucked him out of. Battered, broken, and immobile, Sonic gave in to the most primitive animal instinct and blinked.

Anticipating it didn't help.

At the moment of impact, every molecule of air in his chest was forced out. Sonic tried, tried so hard to force in more, but the Ravager's arm kept pushing him against the wall with all its power. He moved his arms fully to his sides and tried to push off them to buy his chest some more room, but Eggman's latest and greatest would not budge.

Breathe through your nose, Sonic, breathe through your nose…

"Is that…all you got?" wheezed Sonic.

Something's cracking…I think that rib's about to go…

A piercing scream emerged from his mouth.

Yep, there it goes…

Tails couldn't watch anymore. The sight of his friend…mentor…idol…savior…brother…the titles flashed through Tails' head as the image burned itself into his memory forevermore. He would give anything on this earth – anything – to switch places with his friend, to absorb the pain that Dr. Eggman was inflicting. Instead, he had his own trauma to deal with – the feeling that he, somehow, was personally responsible for all of this.

Learned helplessness asserted itself on the fox. Finally heeding Sonic's advice, he buried his face in his hands, two of the only appendages that were not constricted.

The built-in public address system of the Egg Ravager once again crackled into life. "I finally figured it out, Sonic," said Dr. Eggman.

"Wh…wha?" replied Sonic, who had been given little breathing room to make even one derogatory comment about nose hair.

"Your weakness. After all these years, it's clear to me. It's not your pea-sized brain, your wretched impulsiveness, your inability to stand still for more than five seconds…"

Keep flattering me, Egghead.

"…it's that bond," Eggman finished.

Sonic's brow snapped downward. "My…what?"

"That bond you share with that…mutant fox. I knew if I played my cards right, you would play right into my hands."

No sooner had Eggman gotten the point across than he felt a clattering vibration in his seat. As soon as he stood up to locate the source, he could practically feel his own heart travel up his own chest.

"Don't you ever…"

Deep within Sonic, a sleeping giant had awoken. Summoning from some deep, primal well of strength, arms extended fully outward, he pushed the Ravager's palm back with all of his might.

"…call my buddy…"

Eggman raced to his control panel to regain manual control of the Ravager's arm. But no matter what he could do, Sonic managed to pull the hydraulic press back inch by inch. It was a tug-of-war between a ten-ton automaton and a hedgehog, and the hedgehog was winning.

"…a WEAKNESS!"

One roll to the side later, Sonic dropped harmlessly to the ground. With no resistance, the mechanical arm extended forward at full speed, only to create a gaping hole in the brick wall.

Suspended high above the ground, Tails watched with baited breath. Come on, Sonic, get up! You've always gotten up before!

He had freed himself from Eggman's grasp. Standing back up on his feet was another matter.

It wasn't for lack of trying. Sonic summoned up those arms for one more mighty effort to push himself up. They wobbled. They buckled. And finally, they gave way, sending him face-first into the pavement. Dr. Eggman had taken everything out of Sonic, and there was nothing left for Sonic to give.

Slowly, one lurching step at a time, the mad doctor inched the Ravager closer to the exhausted hedgehog. Sonic at least managed to tilt his neck upward toward his attempted murderer. After all, if he was going to meet his end on this day, he wasn't going to flinch. He was going to stare it dead-on in the face.

"You've just made your final mistake, hedgehog!" said Eggman over the blaring P.A.

It was zero hour. Do or die. If Tails wasn't Sonic's weakness, now was the time for him to prove it.

The fox turned his head every which way, scanning the Egg Ravager for any weak points that he may have missed when he first laid eyes on the robot. Surely there had to be something. After all, Sonic's life was on the line. And no matter what, through sheer willpower, dumb luck, or both, he and Tails always made it through in the end.

Still, it wasn't like a solution was going to magically present itself.

Or was it?

Out of the corner of his eye, Tails saw it. A thin, white piece of heaven in a cloud of sparks and smoke, the hole that Sonic left in the frame of the Ravager when he took out the shield.

An exposed wire. Salvation.

If Tails' theory held true, then snapping that one wire would cut off the power to the machine, safely disabling it. It was just that tantalizingly close, just barely out of reach by arm…

The shoulder-mounted laser weapons and arm-mounted guns were aimed squarely at Sonic. There was no time. Tails had to act.

With one desperation heave, he flung his twin tails toward the wiring and made a silent prayer. If all he could hit was thin air, it was all over.

Success! He hit something!

Unfortunately, he had missed the wire altogether, instead striking a piece of the Ravager's steel frame that had not been affected by Sonic's attack.

Before the pain had even begun to set in from the collision, Tails felt the cold, hard stare of Dr. Eggman prying deep into his soul. With seemingly no other choice, his eyes were drawn to the cockpit. Sure enough, the mad scientist's attention was drawn towards Tails. Sonic had been granted a lifeline…for the moment.

"You..." said Dr. Eggman, pointing straight at Tails. "...almost made a very big mistake."

"Huh?" Tails asked.

"Don't think I haven't planned ahead for you, fox. That wire triggers the self-destruct protocol. If you had snapped it, I would have been blown sky-high! And as we both know, that just wouldn't be fair now, would it?"

Tails paused for a moment to consider whether he was bluffing or not, then threw out that possibility as soon as he conjured it up. After all, he was Dr. Eggman.

As if the encounter never happened, Eggman immediately turned his chair back toward the control panel, hovering his finger perilously over the button that would turn the fate of the universe with one push. "Now where was I? Oh, yes! Farewell, Sonic!"

Tails mulled his options. Destroy himself, or let Sonic be destroyed.

Half a second later, he came to his conclusion.

"Eggman!" Tails screamed.

Once again, Eggman peered the fox's way, if only just to humor him. But there was no humor in what he saw. Tails' expression would have one believe that he was the one in command of the situation, and there was good reason for that: both of his namesakes were hovering just over the wire. "I'm giving you five seconds!"

"You wouldn't," said Dr. Eggman. Though he tried to reassert himself, there was a noticeable stammer in his voice as the words came out.

The horror of what Tails was about to do finally dawned on Sonic. Almost instantaneously, all manner of fatigue vanished from his arms and legs, enabling him to gain a temporary foothold. He tried signaling with his voice, but so help him, nothing came out. The distance between the two may as well have been a mountain. Never before had he felt so utterly, utterly helpless.

"Three!" shouted Tails.

Two tails inched further away from the wire, like he was ready to swing at a fastball. Eggman ignored everything and placed his finger on the button anyway. His desire to eliminate Sonic escaped all logic.

Tails decided to cut his own countdown short. Just in case he and Sonic never saw each other on this earth again, he flashed one final smile and thumbs up to Sonic. He wanted the hedgehog's last image of him to be a happy one.

Finally, with no clue what lay on the other side, Tails swung away.

Sonic had prepared for the worst as best as he could, and in one gut-punching moment, he knew that he got it. With the benefit of a headstart on Sonic, Tails had been at the hospital long enough for doctors to place him on life support. A ventilator and an intravenous drip were the only things standing between him and the afterlife.

One of the first things Sonic noticed was that there were only two others at Tails' bedside – one doctor and one nurse – as opposed to the multitude of specialists that were infiltrating Sonic's space. If their facial expressions were anything to go by, the outlook was anything but optimistic.

No! Don't tell me they've given up on him! They can't!

All Sonic could do was watch for any signs of movement from the other side. So he watched.

And watched.

Nothing. A full minute had gone by. Tails had yet to move even a muscle. The only signs to verify his continued existence on this planet were the rhythmic, shrill beeping of a heart monitor. Soon enough, even those started to fade away, becoming more infrequent with each passing second.

Sonic couldn't go back in time to make everything better. He couldn't heal everybody in this hospital. He couldn't even move. But one thing he could do was talk. And he could barely do that.

"Hey," he struggled to say.

His airways decided they could take no more after that, forcing him to choke up another pint. Fortunately for him and the team working on him, the bed he was lying on was covered in a sterile wax paper sheet that could be pulled off and re-extended at any time.

"Hey," he continued. "It's me…Sonic."

His voice seemed floaty, even lifeless, barely even recognizable as Sonic. There was none of the passion for life that exuded from his very being day after day. He was unsure that Tails could even hear him from his room. That is, assuming Tails was even…

…no. Sonic shoved such thoughts out of his mind immediately. It couldn't happen.

It won't happen.

"I just want you to know that…" He was out once again. Choke. Cough. Mess.

Just as soon as he could find the strength to utter another word, they arrived on the tip of his tongue. In case we never meet again…

The thought alone was too much to bear. The words plummeted back down his esophagus, forever to remain unspoken. In Sonic's mind, there was still only one way this could end.

"…I…I couldn't be prouder…of you…"

Gradually, Sonic's true voice emerged from the static of his circulatory predicament. Though a sharp, stabbing pain still resided deep in his lungs and throat, his desperate need to hack for air died down. The hedgehog wasn't sure if it was because his condition was improving or if it was simply because he had coughed up all the blood that he shed internally during the fight.

"And not just for…what you did back there…but…"

If anything ever sent Tails into an emotional rollercoaster, it was receiving a compliment. Naturally, Sonic took advantage of this time and again. To Tails, Sonic's way of showering praise was just another long, recurring teasing joke between brothers. To Sonic, it was that, and so much more. He was never fully sure that Tails ever comprehended just how special he truly was, how much he was capable of, how much he really meant. To think that he never would…that was a pain that cut deeper into Sonic than any of his burns.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Sonic stopped again, scanning closely to see if Tails was responsive to his voice. But not even a finger was moving on the other side.

"…but…everything we've ever been through…you've…"

With each sentence, Sonic heard Tails' voice beckon to him. What it was saying, he had no clue. The words were indecipherable, all muddled together from the numerous conversations the two shared, from the countless experiences they shared through the years. With a small ember of hope burning in his heart, Sonic scanned the immediate area, looking for the source of the voice. Deep down, however, he knew the truth. It was all in his head.

His voice couldn't take any more. There was something in his throat – not blood, but something far more powerful.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Even with burns covering most of his body, Tails looked so peaceful lying there. It reminded Sonic of so many days in the Mystic Ruins, returning from an early morning run through the countryside only to find Tails in his lab passed out on his workbench after another long, uninterrupted night of drawing up blueprints.

More to the point, his face, though scarred across the forehead by flames and asphalt, carried the same neutral expression as it usually did. If he carried any regrets with him, it wasn't showing. Perhaps he was dreaming of something pleasant as the heart monitor ticked down to the seemingly inevitable.

Perhaps Sonic was dreaming. He could easily pound himself on the forehead to find out for himself, but the events of the day had weakened him to the point where his fists were holding his arms to the bed like lead weights.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Argh. This was going nowhere. His esophagus wanted him to stop talking, but his instincts wanted him to ramble on and on. It was time to cut straight to the point.

"I'd…...I'd really miss ya if you went away…"

Beep. Beep. Beep beep beep beep beep beep beep…

Sonic's ears flicked at the sound. He was jolted back into life, as if Tails' heart monitor was his personal alarm clock. Once again, he tilted his neck toward the fox's room to see for himself, to make sure this wasn't an aural mirage conjured up by psychological denial.

The monitor itself verified what Sonic was hearing. A green trail of light moved from left to right on the screen, shooting upward in perfect synchronization with each beep. If its readings were to be believed, Tails' heart rate had returned to what was considered normal – that was to say, roughly half of Sonic's at that particular moment. The hedgehog let out a gasp that turned out to be more of an excited gagging noise. He would be out of his bed and through that curtain in a split-second if one of the staff wasn't busy wrapping his upper legs in bandages.

His eyes were peeled. If Tails was going to start waking up, now was the time.

And then it happened. Out of the corner of Sonic's eye, a movement.

Did I just see his finger twitching?

Sonic rubbed his eyes vigorously, just to make sure this also wasn't some kind of mistake. After all, staring at the same static image for five minutes is bound to have some effects on the eye. No…no mistake. Evidently, the two doctors that were in the room with Tails had been aware of the same things, and hurried to his side to check up on his vital signs.

Suddenly, Tails' whole body shuddered with a frightening jolt. All of the pain that he was enduring as he entered his coma had come back to him the moment he exited it. One limb after the other lifted slightly off of his bed, only to fall back down again like a rock, as he instinctively tried to find out which parts of his body he could move without erupting into ceaseless agony.

His eyelids began to slide open slowly and deliberately, one micrometer at a time, and then snap shut in an instant. The harsh glare of the hospital bulbs upon the floor was too much for the fox's eyes and mind to absorb all at once. And so the pattern went for a full minute, with his eyelid gaining an extra millimeter or so on each pass. Once Tails finally summoned the strength to keep them open halfway, Sonic was overcome by conflicting desires to look towards and look away. Before, when the two looked at each other eye-to-eye, whereas Tails would see determination, resolve, and boundless spirit in Sonic's green, Sonic would see a childlike trust, loyalty, and innocence in Tails' blue. He would hate to look into those eyes and see that innocence shattered.

Carefully, Tails turned his neck to the right. Those eyes were pointed straight at Sonic.

Of course. After all, it was Tails who wanted Sonic here in the first place.

He finally spoke, or at least moved his lips. The two beds weren't close enough for Sonic to hear what came out of Tails' mouth, if anything. Still, he could read lips well enough to realize that Tails was trying to call Sonic by name. The hedgehog shoved aside any feelings of his own pain and forcibly cleared his throat. He needed all of it in order for Tails to hear him.

"Yeah?" asked Sonic, with as much force as he could possibly muster.

The words fluttered out of Tails' mouth like a wounded duck. "We…we made it."

For the first time in what seemed like a year, Sonic smiled. His muzzle could barely contain the sheer width of his grin. Suddenly, Sonic's physical pain seemed to wash away. And as Tails shot back that very same smile, the hedgehog couldn't help but think that his friend had experienced that very same feeling.

Recovery would take time. Sonic knew full well that the hospital wouldn't simply let them leave on their own terms. And even if he could, Tails would need the time far more than Sonic did. That space that they shared was going to be their home for quite a while, whether Sonic liked it or not. But it was theirs together. Their situation, their pain, their struggles, all were part of a shared experience that was made all the more painful by their connection, but in that same connection lay the strength to overcome it. No pain was unbearable, no struggle too perilous, no tortured memory too traumatic, as long as they had each other.

They had indeed made it.

But Sonic still had plenty of questions to ask.

#sonic the hedgehog #miles tails prower #fan fiction #fanfic #sonic fan fiction #sonic fanfiction #sonic fanfic #nervouswreck-96 #nervouswreck96

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itsmatt311 · 7 years ago

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Eastern States 100 | 2017

2017 Eastern States 100: Steep, Loose, Slippery, HARD.

Sitting here 4 days after finishing the Eastern States 100 mile endurance run (slowly), I’m still at a loss for exactly what happened this past weekend. I knew when I signed up for this race nearly a year ago that it would be tough, but really how hard could it be? 33% finishing rate, those people must just be weak or unprepared, I thought. Think again. I read the race reports, watched the YouTube videos, and heard the stories, studied the elevation profile and slowly but surely I started to believe the hype.

I’ve never been one to train ‘specifically’ for an event. I tend to take the generalist approach to training for ultras, integrating cross training and HIIT workouts which I historically supplement for miles of running, but this time was different. 3 months leading up to the ES100, I found myself driving to the Appalachian Trail 3 or 4 days a week after work and on weekends to train. For the first time in my “running” career, I was training 25-30 mile weeks in the trails and then cross training on the days I would not hike/run. Friends and family would ask from time to time, “Do you think you’re ready?” And for just about any other ultra I’d shrug it off and say, “Yeah it can’t be that bad”, but this time I would say, “I don’t think anyone can fully be ready for this.” And that’s the mindset I had approaching this race. 102.9 of the most brutal, rocky, slippery, wet, hot, humid, off-camber slanting, feet pounding, leg twisting ascents and descents of single track trail I’ve ever seen. It makes the Appalachian Trail seem like a walk through Central Park. This race scared me to think about, it frustrated me, made me anxious at times, but ultimately it humbled me, and I think that’s exactly the mindset anyone looking to tackle this beast needs to attack it with. At the end of the day, everyone who even attempts this type of a race is a risk taker. Plain and simple. You’re signing up for something you know very little about and hoping that when the time comes, you have what it takes to endure and persist.

I’m going to skip the night before the race, it was largely just people camping restlessly near the start line and packing and re-packing their packs and drop bags.

The race began with a short stretch or asphalt (about a mile), and then bottlenecked into a single track trail that would have been tough to hike during the daylight, much less at 5:00 AM in the dark. This trail slanted from left to right and like the rest of the course, was carved directly into the side of a mountain. You see, there’s 3 primary things you should know about Pennsylvania hiking trails… 1. They’re rocky. And each rock is loose and will break in in half if you’re not careful. 2. They don’t switchback much at all. They take the direct approach to getting up the mountain… straight up it. It’s not uncommon to be on your hands and knees climbing up the broad side of a mountain or sliding on your butt directly down it… toboggan style. 3. Every trail is off-camber, and slants drastically to one side or the other. If you’re not careful, you could very easily fall off of the mountain. I’m not joking, someone broke their hip in this very predicament.

It’s said that the first 17 mile is the toughest and slowest section, and that might be, I don’t really know. I can tell you this though, you won’t care how tough it was when you get to mile 75 and still have a marathon left to go. The first 17 miles are definitely tough. They’re frustrating as heck mentally too because these are the miles where you’re “fresh” (whatever that means in this race), and yet after your first climb and about 7 miles in you’re already feeling wrecked. I can tell you everyone I saw out there around miles 7-10 felt this exact same way. You’re climbing the type of terrain that Billy goats wouldn’t even mess with and all the while you’re already worrying about cutoffs. This race hits you hard and hits you fast, and there’s no way around it. This sentiment was felt by most of the runners I was in contact with throughout the race. The lack of switch backing on trails in the Allegheny National Forest cannot be overlooked. The climbs were straight up the mountain, and the descents were straight down the mountain. The 2nd aid station around mile 11 didn’t have Tailwind, which was not favorable. Furthermore, this was not a drop bag location and thus I couldn’t revert to my Gatorade Endurance carb mix. Alas. I grabbed what I could, mostly chips and M&M’s and several shots of Coca-Cola and headed out across the trestle bridge across the Susquehanna River.

After a few more ups and downs through single track mountain trails, you do eventually catch a slight break after your first marathon from about miles 25-31. This stretch was largely gravel fire roads and ATV trails. I climbed and descended quite a bit more until finally I hit the “Halfway House” around 2230 with a bad headlamp and a drop bag that was never brought to that aid station. I don’t know who or how it was overlooked it, but 1 of my 6 drop bags never made it to the aid station. And therein lies a couple pivotal lessons that any 100 mile ultramarathon finisher will attest to. 1. The importance of having a short memory. 2. Accepting that rarely does everything go according to plan. I’m without a jacket for the night, without dry socks, dry shoes, and without my iPod. For a brief moment I was irritated; 6 drop bags, no crew and they managed to not bring the most important drop bag I had.. the one that would get me through the night. But then the strangest thing happened to me. I began laughing for some reason. Maybe it was lack of calories or salt (make sure you bring lots of both!), but for whatever reason I just laughed, I wasn’t really in the mood for feeling sorry for myself just yet so I grabbed as much food as I could and marched off into the night woods. I guess the easiest way to put it is this: when things don’t go your way, you’ve got to forget about it, accept it, and move forward; relentlessly forward.

After about 0.5 mile I realized I had forgotten my trekking poles back at the aid station. Oh well, whatever, I wasn’t about to go back for them. I quickly found some decent enough, sturdy but not too heavy sticks in the woods and these would serve as my “trekking poles” until mile 69 where they’d become a casualty of the woods. Most of the night I spent fast hiking rocky, off-camber sections of narrow trails and humming an annoying traditional Irish drinking song to myself over and over and over again, it was Charlie and the MTA if you’re wondering. Man, it would have been nice to have that iPod. Still climbing, still descending, and trying not to trip and fall off a mountain summed up miles 54-62.

Mile 62 was a lively aid station just outside of an old motel with a large campfire burning, but I wasn’t getting anywhere near that thing. Put me in a chair in front of a campfire at 2 in the morning unattended & I’ll be out quicker than Charlie Sheen can say ‘winning’ after 3 lines of coke. This aid station was actually the bomb. They brought in pizza, which marked the first real meal I had had since mile 25. Side note: it truly does pay to be a front runner because those lucky a$$holes got their pick of the litter with regards to hot food and well stocked aid stations, lucky for me these volunteers understood our pain and ordered pizza for the tortoise crew as well. I hiked out of that aid station feeling recharged after stuffing myself full of pizza and loading up on carbohydrate mix and other necessities only to start up a wicked steep ascent. I don’t know if it was the fact that it was 0300 and I was droning or what but this climb sticks out as one of the tougher ones.

The entire day and night are spent trying to keep your mind occupied and positive and your feet moving a clip fast enough to make the next aid station. A little back story on me, I’m not a terribly slow runner. I’ve done a handful of ultra’s but wouldn’t classify myself as a “runner” per se, however I tend to be a middle of the pack finisher. This race was totally different. While I was never minutes from making an aid station, I was rarely an hour ahead of one either. This became extremely mentally exhausting, and that was no more prevalent than the stretch from miles 69-72. These 3 miles is the toughest section of trail I’ve ever been on and probably ever will be on. Calling it a trail at all is generous. This coupled with the fact that by this point in the race my feet were beyond wrecked and my legs were completely drained made for a slow and painful progression through this segment of rocky, moss covered descent as dawn was approaching. My make-shift wooden hiking poles that I had found back at mile 54 actually broke during this section and I didn’t bother searching for another pair. This section certainly slowed many down that day, and by the time they made it to mile 75, many dropped and many did not make the cutoff time.

The next section of trail wasn’t too bad... for a Pennsylvania mountain trail and I painfully made it to mile 80 by around 0800 on day 2, not able to run but not necessarily walking either, more of a shuffle. This was an incredible aid station. Really all of the aid stations were decent, and the enthusiasm from the volunteers cannot go unnoticed. They truly wanted to get you what you needed so that you could get back up out of their chair and proceed on. The lack of hot coffee at nigh twas a bummer mentally because there’s something soothing and calming about a hot cup of joe but at any rate, this wasn’t that type of race so I took what I could get, which as far as caffeine goes was shots of Pepsi and Coca-Cola throughout the night. Not all of the volunteers were ultra-marathoners, which was actually refreshing because they didn’t treat you like you had been hit by a mortar and instead just casually asked how you were. I remember a lady at this aid station offering me a Red Bull and pancakes with syrup, and I said sure why not! My feet hadn’t really been patched up since mile 25 and even then the doc told me that I’d just have to deal with it through most of the race because he wouldn’t be out again until mile 86. So I did. After that I thanked the volunteers and left. “Bib 125, out!”.

Heading toward Skytop was no small feat and it was largely a 5 mile climb to Skytop (mile 86). The aid station workers said that this climb would be our last climb... yeah right. It wasn’t and they knew that, but I would have told them the same thing if the roles had been reversed. Sometimes not knowing what lies ahead is what gets you through it. Much has been written about the gnarly ascents in this race, but don’t get me wrong for a second, the descents are equally as bad, if not worse. Imagine descending a mountain on single track trail, now tilt that trail another 10-15 degrees steeper, throw in middle to large loose, moss covered rocks and roots, wet mud, and narrow the trail to 6-12” wide and remove any semblance of switchback you can think of and you’ve got your typical downhill at Eastern States.

The strange thing about this race is that it seemed like I always had 2 hours to get to the next aid station, whether it was a 4 mile stretch or a 7 mile stretch. This added to the stress of making cutoffs but it kept you in the game as well because you knew that if you hustled to cover 7 miles in 1.5 hours, then you’d be able to bank that extra time for the 4 mile segments. At any rate, I left mile 86 for a 7 mile stretch into what would be mile 93. This stretch had a few big climbs and a couple short downs, and one particular creek crossing that I fell into. My shoes were damp since about mile 3, but I tried to keep them as dry as I could. This didn’t go so well and lead to major foot issues throughout the race and by this point I was in some serious pain due to the loose rock and slippery wet steep conditions. Hot spots all over my feet, they felt bruised and beyond repair. I had to try and think about something else but the pain was always there and I was becoming physically and emotionally spent. I made it to mile 93 with 35 minutes to spare and to be completely honest with you, dropping crossed my mind for the first time. I sincerely appreciate the woman with the VT 100 hat on for giving me a shot of whiskey and ginger ale and saying the simplest, most no non-sense thing to me which got my head back in the game. She said to me, “you didn’t come this far to quit now. Now go get your buckle.” I was rejuvenated, and actually left that aid station teary eyed with a weird mix of joy and agony, both simultaneously. When you think you’re at your breaking point, you’re not, even if your mind thinks you are. And I convinced myself that I was finishing this God awful hard 102.9 mile challenge so that I would NEVER have to come do it again. At any rate, I carried on trying my best to maintain an 18 minute mile and trotted on out of mile 93 headed for mile 99.

I got to the final real aid station of the course at mile 99, the Team RWB aid station, proceeded on for another couple of miles and then and it was literally all downhill from there. And when I say downhill, this sadistic race director saved the roughest, toughest, meanest 1.5 mile straight downhill son-of-a-rock scramble you could ever imagine straight to the bottom of the mountain. 0.5 mile, 1100 foot descent with no switch backing on a rocky downhill directly down the mountain. Yes, you do pass a rattlesnake den. They were sitting out tanning on a concrete slab, not bothering anyone. I was so loopy by this point in the race that I couldn’t care less. People were stopping to get pictures, although I’m thinking that was the runners’ crews. I didn’t give a frog’s fat ass about photos at this point I was cussing that race director the entire way down that dirty steep mountain. Then it was across a field and straight to the finish. “Make sure you RUN to the finish!!”, the volunteers chanted. Yeah right guys, wishful thinking. At any rate I trotted across the grassy field to the finish line. Unlike at the 2016 Umstead 100, I wasn’t emotional, I guess I didn’t have the energy for it or it hadn’t quite sank in yet. Unreal. I had finished the Eastern States 100 miler in 35 hours 19 minutes. Couldn’t be happier to finish this race, and I sincerely thank everyone for the support. The race director ran out of belt buckles, so mine will be mailed in September... kinda bummed about that but oh well. It will be a nice surprise in mid September when it comes in the mail.

A few thoughts on Eastern States 100 mile finishers:

1. We’re not logical. People can’t and probably won’t ever be able to understand why we push ourselves through these kinds of pain thresholds and misery. We live in a society that worships comfort and so for most people, the thought of running 100 miles seems stupid or crazy or just plain dumb. I’m not sure if this is a defense people use for justifying why they don’t want to try this type of event or if they really just feel that way, but either way... it’s something that is ever present.

2. We’re not all “runners”. Yeah 100 miles is a long ways to “run”, no question about it. But physically it’s possible even for the non-experienced trail runner. People can’t seem to get this when I tell them that I’m not really a runner at all. I don’t like running just for fun, I do it from time to time, but it mostly bores me. I like the challenge that 100 miles brings me physically and mentally; with an emphasis on mentally. I crosstrain because it’s more fun than running through town. Nearly everyone I know who is fit can complete a 100 mile run with the right mindset, a never quit attitude, a tolerance for pain, and a well thought out planning strategy.

3. 100 miles is the great equalizer. You can tangibly observe an athlete in the gym who can likely lift a lot of weight. You might even be able to spot a swimmer or a cross country runner, but spotting a 100 mile finisher, good luck. They come in all shapes and sizes and ages. I’ve seen 50 year old 250 lb men finish Eastern States hours before me. I’ve seen 70 year olds who can run circles around 30 year olds. I’ve also seen tough, geared up, studded out athletic looking 20 something year olds drop out at mile 50. 100 miles isn’t what you might expect.

#easternstates100

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