#and now i can barely remember basic tasks (let alone have the energy to write them down)

[britbi]

bleh

[tofumedic]

Brothers + Diavolo w/ a selectively mute GN!MC

summary: how well the brothers would be able to deal with you being selectively mute and how they respond to you talking to them !

Lucifer

Other than Diavolo, he may be the only one to know beforehand as helping in the organization of the RAD program, however it may only be overlooked if it is not present in any kind of record like schooling or medical.

When you first come into Devildom, your D.D.D. may be used as a sort of translation object between you and those present.

He is a little peeved in the beginning before you are able to explain it, he would regain his calm but would see it as a small setback to how he expected orientation to go.

Other than that he quickly learns about you and how you work so that he can work with you while trying not to dote on you!

The one that would gift you small portable whiteboards and markers if you had a preference over it for typing, professional though only dark blue and black inked markers <//3

Your first words to him are probably about answering a question or a summons, he does a lot of both but don't call him out for being clingy okay

Anyways

If this man is standing or getting up to greet you expect him to stumble, just slightly catching himself on the edge of his office desk or resting a hand against the wall

When he meets your eyes you can see there's a pinch of panic of "you did not just see that please tell no one" that melts back into "oh my god???????"

He's quick to relax back into what he wanted to talk to you about, not wanting you too feel anxious or guilty for however long it took for you guys to have a mutual trust and safety net.

For the rest of the day his face remains in this pleasant smile and everyone except Asmo and Beel are suspicious, Mammon being especially on edge.

If they call him out on what has him so happy today he will brush them off for being nosy about what isn't their worries but the small blush that rises to his face as he crosses his arms does not help his case.

Mammon

He is all of your noise

He gets forgetful and will try to have conversations across the house by yelling at you only to barge into your room in his petty fake anger just to see your face either amused at him or completely deadpan and he just ....🧍‍♂️

He gets anxious about leaving anywhere without his D.D.D. now what if his human needs him while he's not "bothering" you

Takes extreme pride in helping you order food when you go out places whether with his brothers or just alone, he loves it. Not only does he get an excuse to sit by your side and lean into your shoulder to see what menu item you're pointing at but it means he also has less worry about, he likes being close by to help you just in general.

Your first words are probably involving some drama he was mourning over earlier that day, probably with Lucifer or being the butt of the joke with another brother.

If Lucifer would stumble, expect this man to fully fall. God forbid you two are walking down the stairs instead of him rolling off the edge of your bed or just plopping on the carpet.

He would be so excited, his cheeks are burning even though you may have not even complimented him those words are gonna be ingrained to his memory maybe even written down in his notes app.

But he will downplay how happy he is that out of all of them he was the first you talked to, because of course it would be him the great Mammon and your first man it just made sense.

He's over the moon he won't flex it unless you start being verbal with more of his brothers he doesn't want them to pressure you into speaking no matter how much the urge bubbles up while Asmo is talking about how you would rather match outfits with him that others

Leviathan

He doesn't mind that much, at the beginning of your relationship he is very shy and doesn't really start talking unless something reminded him of one of his shows or games

Will gain a habit of just texting you instead of asking you a question outloud, just because he thinks its more polite and understands as in sometimes it's too much energy to open his mouth to speak

Teaches you phrases from his games, basically call outs, as an extra layer of code to let you know if you're camping out in his room that he is gonna leave for a package (going to spawn camp) or food (healing) etc

He does get jealous saying it's unfair about Mammon helping you order stuff in the "irl" while absolutely being too nervous to do it for himself as well

You two have your own codes for entering each others room, knocking to the tune of a popular sound effect from a game you play together for the ease but he enjoys when you try to do the beginning of an ost or girl group song and he tries to guess it

Your first words for him are probably you entering his room with some snacks or having picked up a package for him from his door, his response to you entering would be asking you to hold on this match or episode was almost done

So when you give out hum and either let him know you're staying or you're signing off (leaving) it's an insta-death, his attention is caught so fast

His posture extremely straight from his hunched focus as he speedquits his match closing every tab back to desktop before standing up on his wobbly legs and giving you the most affection he can handle of having that without warning

He gives you a small headbutt, pushing his forehead into your shoulder as he controls his breathing. He can't handle it that's like finale love interest marrying the protag and you hit him with it so lightly.

He wouldn't change his preference of texting you questions as it's something he's still comfortable with and you speaking to him makes him feel like he's reached masters rank without losing any matches

Satan

He is your best bet for knowing sign language, he finds it interesting that there are so many regional variations has tucked his knowledge of them into his big ol head

His movements would be hesitant as he's mentally dusting off the memory of practice but he is very good at it, though he wouldn't be more than only a pinch disappointed if you didn't prefer that way.

He be more interested in you in the beginning before learning about your magical presence and the pact hunt, it's unusual to him and he likes the study

Picks up small things that are unnoticeable to everyone but you about small habits and things that barely make it easier, like remembering to rebuke Mammon when he goes to order but forgets you don't like a certain ingredient and asks for it to be removed himself.

Would ask if you would like to learn Devildom's concept of sign language, maybe just quick easy signs for going about RAD tasks and classes

Your first words are probably said to him in the safety of his study, surrounded by books or even your homework while he reads

MC i love you very much but i feel like it would be something really stupid or cursed along the lines of

"I'm tired of people making Frankenstein's creature ugly he's literally written to be sexy" or "Why are people so attracted to Dracula he's supposed to ugly af >:/"

He would be.. very nonchalant about the fact it was you speaking to him and acting like he was talking to one of his brothers and going against you in the argument until he picks up those books to prove his side to be like "oh."

He needs a moment after such a not so public embarrassment so it would be later while you're both laying in your respective rooms and he's going over it in his head and then it hits him. It also hits that it was perhaps the most unromantic way it could have gone but it makes him smile into his pillow.

He has it as a secret weapon against Lucifer but he likes knowing something his brother doesn't

He can't look at you for too long the next day but will use the two figures of your mock argument to lightly bully you being soft on you in the comfort he wanted you to know was returned

"In case of argument, you would make a very good creation made in such a pleasing image"

Asmodeus

He is willing to fill up space for conversations for you also, he has a lot to say but will still ask you questions and for your input so you're included

He thinks the whiteboard concept is very cute! He would be the one to get you little accessories like a bag just for that and your markers or a strap for it. He would also be the one to get you more marker colors, you having just black and dark blue is unforgivable

Enjoys asking you how you're feeling, in a way that's easier if you didn't want to write or type it all out is giving him a number between 1-10. 10 is for your absolute worst like if you are having a day that you can't get out of bed or 1 where you're feeling really good like nothing can hurt you.

Doesn't force you to go out and party with him in case it's bad for your nerves or there's a worry demons will rude about "their advances being ignored."

Likes being close to you, so you can write in a notes app or use some other alternative other than texting where he might not see it getting buried by other messages.

Asmo would enjoy either holding hands or wrapping his arm around yours of your non dominant side, he makes good by staying on that side when he's going for affection or just to be in your bubble.

You talking to him for the first time would probably being during an outfit review or ordering new face masks off of Akuzon.

And he would melt, pelting you with kisses smothering every empty inch of your forehead, your cheeks, the bridge of your nose he's so happy

Whatever you were doing or looking at becomes his favorite, a fit he wears when he feels down to keep him happy, or using a specific brand of nail polish or face mask specifically due to the memory

Would find any lisp or rasp overwhelmingly adorable, of course it fits his angel you sound undeniably perfect. Loves how conversations sound with your two voices mixing together.

Beelzebub

He wouldn't completely understand but he isn't rude about it, his actions remaining normal to how he usually acts

If you wanted to learn their version of sign language he would try with you no matter if it was a struggle to fit into his schedule between the gym and spending time with Belphie and RAD and anything else but wouldn't want you to do it alone

He would keep you safe from anyone who had a problem with it, he's used to Belphie not wanting to talk to people other than him so he would be able to handle it especially if you two had similar gestures you used

Beel is also quite quiet in his own other from rumblings or dislike about being yelled at, he's good at still talking and holding his ground in arguments too but affection with him would be extra quiet compared to extra brothers

Your silence other than shuffles or small laughs, it's comforting like a sense of calm. It makes him think of your human dream catchers always quiet yet supposedly helpful and healing

You may verbally ask for a treat or some of his snack he brought for you two instead of a small gesture if your arms are trapped in the cuddle position you've been stuck in and any food he was eating would pause. Giving him a second he would easily give you all that was left

"Not hungry anymore" he would say his eyes warm before closing with his warm smile, he melts more into you like a jacket to let you feel how warm his heart was.

You were always special even if as an agent of chaos with some of the phrases you would drop, and he would adopt into his vocabulary and even further speaking for you in situations you couldn't

Belphegor

Belphie when you first met would give you a different gaze, in a slight squint almost breaking his image of being a helpless human but he would override it, continuing on like normal

At the beginning he may have even less belief in you getting pacts with his brothers but you still prove you're capable and things are normal for how he would treat you, not really changing just like Beel.

For a man (demon) to say actions are stronger than words, he certainly strains his ears just in case you answer his question in that way not that you would know and i certainly did not let you know ok??? cool cool

Other than that he really doesn't mind!!! You and Beel are really his top two people he has interest in being with and you being mute wouldn't change anything ! He may seek you more for naps outside of his room or the attic you don't move as much as Beel does as long as he doesn't curl up over your arms

In the privacy of one of your rooms- whether Asmo and Mammon are out on the town or in his while Beel is at the gym or somewhere else- is your first words spoken as softly as you can to him

Him laying across you with his head resting with his mouth close to your collarbone and ear resting almost on your neck he can feel the vibration in your vocal cords, you were probably asking him to move

Which you probably thought he was doing but any movement was so he could be closer to that feeling of your words if you spoke again, his knees tucking up while his toes curl

You wouldn't be able to fully process just how important that action was to him, you trusted him and felt safe and could let words out to him, after everything that was real forgiveness.

Diavolo

Him just looking over and encouraging you being chosen by Lucifer, he probably would not know unless again it was strongly present in your transcripts

He would find it interesting, it was your first surprise to him and filled him with mirth at the concept of seeing Lucifer tense in confusion his feathers absolutely ruffled

Though while you were already human which meant your interactions were sure to be interesting to him, the way you interacted was also completely different from Solomon, he would love giving you his time no matter how Barbatos would sigh already seeing it before it went into motion

It may mean a little extra work for Lucifer but he wouldn't complain he did a good job picking you for Diavolo to enjoy your company so much even if he was slightly worried on your influence on him

For doting only predict help with fixing the RAD program and making your class experience more accessible, if he tries to help too much someone would certainly have a word with him

He's known being compassionate, he just wants it to be easy for you as it is probably hard enough on you between the brothers, school, and being selectively mute

He barely uses his D.D.D. but if you prefer using that it's no problem though do give him awhile to type out his long messaged questions instead of asking them on call

First words with him may be said on a trip out to explore or in his castle during a private moment in the retreat or in his office

No matter the context it would be a mood booster, he would compliment you you're voice is perfect to him it matches the image you've shown so far

It's a delight, you never fail to surprise him he may repeat your words in his own voice laugh resting on his breath. He'd ask you to stay a little longer if he can get away with it, and if he can't he surely will try

[otakusheep15]

SFW Alphabet - Diavolo

I love Dia with all my heart, so I thought it was finally time I made a post for him

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

He is probably one of the more affectionate characters. Not many people are willing to get this close to him due to his status, so he is all over you the second you give him permission. His favorite form of affection is when you sit on his lap while he works. 

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

Him as a best friend is a lot of fun. He’ll constantly sneak out of the castle just to hang out with you. He’d probably also wear those silly disguises so no one recognizes him. You two go all over the Devildom and he takes you where ever you’d like. In the end, you two usually get busted by Barb or Luci, but it’s always worth it.   

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

Cuddles are literally his love language. He’s always coming up behind you and lifting you up into a hug or dragging you off to his room just to cuddle in bed. Being the prince of literal Hell can be so tiring, so cuddles are exactly what he needs after a long day. And once you two get into bed, you’re never leaving again.  

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

He knows that he can’t settle down, but he would love nothing more. Honestly, if it weren’t for his responsibilities, he would have already dragged you off to some secluded house in a forest somewhere to just live in peace. It’s also thanks to his status as prince that he doesn’t know any basic household chores. He cannot clean, and he can barely cook without burning down the whole kitchen. He’s had to rely on Barb and his other staff for so long, that he’s just never had to learn. He wants to, if only to impress you, but he never has the chance. 

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

I don’t think he’s ever even been in a relationship tbh, so he’s never had to break it off with someone. If he did have to, it would be bad. Like, I’m talking literal execution in front of everyone in the Devildom bad. He is a very patient demon who is very caring towards basically everyone. If he actually had to break it off, there would probably be blood. We don’t talk about it.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

As prince, he does technically have to find a spouse, so he’s down to get married if you are. However, the whole point of getting married for him is so that his partner can carry his heir, so if you can’t get pregnant that might be a problem. Not with him, not at all, but more so with Devildom law and such. Afterall, he needs an heir, and he can’t let someone have it if he isn’t planning on marrying them. He’d still marry you regardless though, so there’s nothing to worry about there. 

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

He is the gentlest giant you have ever seen in your whole life. He knows how big he is, and he knows how intimidating he can be, so he is very careful to make sure you know you can trust him. If he ever gets mad and feels like he might start yelling, he makes sure you are well out of range so that you don’t have to hear him. He also makes sure he never hugs you too hard or startles you without warning. He just wants to protect you, and that includes protecting you from himself if needed.  

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

A sucker for hugs, that’s what he is. It does not matter how, when, or where he hugs you, he just wants to, always and everywhere. If you’re in a place where he can’t out-right hug you, he has to be touching you somewhere. He’s lowkey possessive, so he loves any contact just to show others who you belong to. Hugs are just the best way to do that since they’re super obvious. And he also just loves you a lot and wants you to know. 

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

He’d say it relatively fast. he’s not one to waste time or lead someone on, so if he knew he loved you, he’d say it. He wouldn’t even care if you don’t say it back, he just wants you to know how he feels about you. 

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

He gets insanely jealous, but he’s always good at hiding it. With all of the public appearances and people he’s had to deal with, he’s become a master actor. Inside, he could be fuming with jealousy when someone so much as looks at you, but no one will even know. He just puts on his classic smile and ask you to go with him somewhere for some “business” you have to attend. In reality, he just wants to drag you away for some cuddles to remind him that you’re his and you love him above all else. 

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

His kisses are usually rather soft cause he’s so afraid of accidentally hurting you in some way. They’re sweet and gentle, and so full of love. They don’t come as often since of how much he works, so that makes them all the better when they do. 

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

He actually loves children, but they’re always so afraid of him. No kid would ever go up to him due to pure fear, so he never gets to interact with them. It really does make him quite sad since he would love to get to know the younger generation more, and he just finds them adorable. Maybe you can convince one (1) child to talk to him with the promise of candy after. 

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

He has to wake up pretty early for work, but he always makes sure you’re still comfy before he leaves. If you wake up with him, he’ll talk to you about what his day will be like while getting dressed. If you’re still asleep, he tries his best to stay quiet as he gets ready. No matter of you’re awake or not, he makes you stay in bed and brings (read: makes Barb bring) you breakfast in bed. 

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

He’s usually pretty tired by the end of the day, so he wants nothing more than to just pass out with you in his arms. However, he usually still has work to do even after dark, so he’s forced to stay up. During these times, he loves when you come over to him and just sit there while he works. That usually motivates him to finish up faster so that he can get cuddles. Once he hits that bed, it’s lights out for him. 

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

He seems like he would be an open book, but he really isn’t. Trust me, he’d love to be as open with you as possible, but he can’t. There are so many things he has to keep hidden due to his role as prince. Plus, he doesn’t have much to share since he can’t really get out much to being with. He tells you as much as he can, but he always has to stop himself before he goes too far. 

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

He is super patient. He’s always having to deal with less-than-ideal situations, so he’s built up a good amount of patience. Usually, he’s pretty chill, so when he snaps, it’s for a good reason. 

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

Quite honestly, his head is already filled with so much, so he can sometimes forget things you tell him. That’s why he has Barb write stuff down about you so that he won’t forget. He keeps all of these facts in a journal in his room, and you have no idea. 

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

He loves the first time you stayed over at the castle for the night. Not that time when everyone went over, but just when you came over. He was still busy with work at the time, and he loves how understanding you were about it. There was a short time where you left his room, and he was worried with how long you were gone. He was about to go look for you when you walk back in with some tea and snacks to help keep his energy up while he’s working. It was this moment when he knew he loved you. The fact that you cared this much for him really made him happy. 

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

He is more protective than anyone else. The entire castle staff will be told numerous times over that their number one priority is now to protect you, much to the annoyance of Luci and Barb. He also makes sure to keep you close whenever you go out, and he’s always touching you somewhere. 

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

He would only have the best for you. Every date you two go on will be the most romantic thing you’ve ever witnessed. He would only calm down if you mentioned you prefer more lowkey dates, in which he immediately apologizes for not asking you first. He still wants to make them the best dates possible, but he’ll try and calm down a bit. 

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

He tends to overwork himself, often leaving you alone in favor of finishing his work. He also gets way too overprotective sometimes, even going so far as to drag you away the second he gets jealous. 

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Like Luci and Barb, he only really cares about his looks because he knows he has to keep up appearances. He has to make a good name for himself, and looking good certainly helps. Barb also constantly pressures him into taking better care of his looks when he starts slacking off. 

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

It honestly depends on how close you two are. He’s used to people leaving him because they can’t handle being so close to the prince, so he might not even care if you leave him too. It’s only if you two have gotten super close that he might feel something if you were to leave him. 

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

Okay, so, this came completely out of nowhere, but I have always lowkey had a  headcanon that he and Barb were in a QPR before. (for those who don’t know, it means queer platonic relationship). Anyway, I have no clue where I got this idea from, but it just makes sense to me. They probably broke it off once he showed romantic interest in you, but I promise they were in a QPR at one point. 

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

He wouldn’t like someone who would try and drag him away from his job. He wants someone who understands what it means to be the prince of the Devildom, and that includes them being aware of how much work he has and that he can’t just drop it all without planning even if he wants to

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

He’s bog, even for demon standards, so he tends to take up a lot of room. Honestly, he’s the kinda person that would spread out across the whole bed without a single care for who else might be in it. Let’s just say, you’ve fallen out of bed several times because he accidentally pushed you out. 

[tuanhood]

lambda

pairing: frat!mark tuan x reader

genre: angst, enemies to lovers (kinda), smut, fluff

warnings: 18+, language, cringey frat stuff, dirty talk, oral sex (male receiving), explicit sex. 

word count: 11,400+

summary: your last choice was renting a room at a frat house over the summer, especially after you told yourself you were done with anything frat related, but when your ex ditches you last minute its your only option. now... if only you could stop dreaming about the president of lambda chi.

a/n: surprise again! mark won the poll!! but like I said i think i’m going to continue doing a frat one shot for each member. so it’ll be like a little anthology series!! but i have no clue when i will write the other once so please bare with me :) Also if there’s some frat stuff in here that doesn’t make sense just let me know in my ask or if you have any questions i’ll be happy to answer! 

alpha | delta | gamma | kappa | theta | sigma

“Who do you know here?” you found yourself being asked before even fully stepping onto the property.

The douchey guy with his backwards baseball cap and muscle tee – sporting his letters of course – looked you up and down as if trying to place you.

“No one actually.”

He looked confused, “wait seriously? You’re just going to admit that right off the bat? Usually people try to make something up.”

“See I’m not here to play games… Kyle? I’m guessing your name is Kyle. I have the unfortunate pleasure of living here over the summer, because this was the cheapest and most last-minute housing I could find. Now I’m just going to go up to my room and mind my own business while you and your brothers throw this stupid party that better be over before midnight.”

“You could have just said you live here…” the boy mumbled mostly to himself, “well welcome home and congrats on moving in! I’m Bambam by the way.”

He thrusted his hand forward to you, almost forgetting about the mob of people behind you waiting to get in and see if they pass the “vibe” check to get past the front door. You were sure in any other circumstance you would not be passing the vibe check.

“Wow Bambam…” you said to yourself considering the name. He looked delighted as if you were so enthralled by the unique quality of it. You were however, thinking about how Bambam was even worse than “Kyle.”

“And you are?” he asked.

“Dude can you stop flirting and keep the line moving! I’m trying to get wasted before 11!” someone yells from deep in the line behind you.

“Hey! I’m the one who says how fast or slow this line moves! Fuck off man or you can go find your own kick back,” Kyl- Bambam yelled.

Snorting, you rolled your eyes, “you call this a kick back?” You gestured to the full house behind him, deciding to leave out those who were sitting on the roof.

“If the normal school year isn’t in session and the house isn’t over 50% occupied with members, then it’s a kick back. Chapter rules.”

“Would love to see that rulebook, if you have it handy,” you laughed, joking. Somehow, Bambam didn’t get it and cocked his head to the side absorbing your comment, “you really want to see the rules? I mean I could bring it to you later if you-” 

“That’s fine Kyl-Bambam, I’m good. I’m just going to go inside now.”

“Bet, see you later.”

The way he said it makes you think that he means he’ll see you later at the party. That would however be completely wrong, because there was no way you were going to hang out with these disgusting egocentric heathens that just want to fuck and get drunk.

Fraternity housing hadn’t been you first choice for this summer. In fact, it probably hadn’t been your last choice either, but this is what you were stuck with. Staying at school over the summer had been a very last-minute choice – for reasons you weren’t ready to discuss – and by the time you were searching for housing, everything that was cheap and decent had been taken. Instead you were left with cheap and… chaotic.

“Whoa watch out!” You heard being yelled by some douche in a bucket hat as soon as you stepped into your new home.

It had been a week since you moved in, but you hadn’t made any effort to get to know any of the other people staying over the summer. Regardless of whether they were in the same predicament as you or if they were actually members of the org, you weren’t particularly interested in face to face time. After the Spring Quarter you had, you needed alone time and this summer you didn’t plan on making friends with your housemates… Especially if they were in a frat.

Your first week had actually, however, gone somewhat okay. No one had tried to interact with you – in fact you had barely seen anyone else in the house – and there had been no disturbing sounds or noises… It almost didn’t feel like you were living in a frat house, besides the urinals in the bathroom and the boxes of energy drinks that lined a few of the hallways. You were pleased to say the least, until you turned onto Greek row and heard all of the noise from the corner.

Please don’t be Lambda. Please don’t be Lambda. Please don’t be Lambda. Please don’t be Lamb-

The silent prayer in your head clearly hadn’t been heard as you had grown closer and closer to the house you were staying in. Lo and behold you had been met with a very large line of people waiting to get in, loud music and trash all over the lawn. What had you been expecting by choosing to live in a frat?

The bucket hat guy’s warning didn’t faze you. As soon as you process his words you placed your hand up to smack the Styrofoam football he had thrown to the ground. You weren’t in the mood for an obstacle course, you just wanted to get to your room and put in earplugs so you could rest before work tomorrow morning.

“Whoa you got mad fast reflexes. Do you play?” he asked grabbing the object off of the sticky floor.

You couldn’t tell if he was genuinely curious or not. But judging on the way he eyed you up and down, there were other things that were actually on his mind.

Side eyeing him, you snorted, “yeah… I’m not doing this,” you motioned your hand at him in circles and turned to head towards the main stairs. His words stopped you, “wow are we heading there already? Just give me a minute to tell my brothers I can’t watch drinks table anymore.”

Instinctively you cracked your knuckles, bucket hat guy found himself clearing his throat noticing the small detail that showcased your frustration. Turning around, it takes everything in you not to slap him, but more likely than not, this guy probably lived with you as well. Although you didn’t care for being friends with your housemates, it probably wouldn’t be a good look to be the housemate who slapped the people she shared a home with. So instead of a physical reaction, you simply clenched your jaw and went with the most basic response.

“I live here. I’m going to my room.”

Instead of showing any kind of shame or embarrassment for his very wrong estimate about where the situation was going, bucket hat clicks his tongue – almost in a disapproving way.

“Just watch out… we’re using the rooms on the second floor for hookup space. Or wait was it the third?”

As if you couldn’t have been more annoyed.

“What the fuck? How can you guys use the rooms up there when people are renting them out? How can you even use them when they’re locked?”

Bucket hat started to blink too much as if considering your very real query, “The President has a master key to all the rooms. What do you expect deciding to live in Greek housing for the summer?”

If you had known how much this frat didn’t care about personal space or just basic human rights, you would have never chosen to stay at Lambda Chi. In fact, you would have never chosen a fraternity at all – cheap price or not.

“Is it the second or third floor?”

“Don’t remember,” he hummed, no longer paying you any mind but twirling the football in his hand and eyeing a group of girls who had walked by.

Groaning, you snapped your fingers to regain his attention, “It makes a difference so remember.”

He shrugged and looked at you with an annoyed look on his face, “listen you’re kind of bringing my mood down… And I think I hear someone calling me from the kitchen so…” he pointed his thumb somewhere behind him, “I’m just gonna do that instead.”

Bucket hat guy leaves you standing in the main foyer, squished amongst other people, without another word. Although, you swear you heard him mutter something about you “not passing the vibe check.”

Left without a clue of what to do, you figured that the only viable option you had was to go find the President. Luckily bucket hat gave you one sliver of useful information.

Whipping around, you go to ask Bambam where exactly you could find the President, but he’s too enthralled in a conversation with one of the girl’s waiting in line to get in. It probably would do you more harm than good to get involved in that.

Searching around the space in the front of the house, you look for another brother who could perhaps help you with your task.

Right… Shouldn’t be too hard. Just look for someone who’s confident enough to think they’d be able to get out of a DUI.

A loud laugh caught your attention, it comes from a guy holding a Grey Goose bottle and letting random girls take pulls out of it.

Perfect.

You approached him, placing a gentle hand on his arm that holds the bottle to get his attention. He took notice of you immediately, giving you the same exact look bucket hat had given you earlier. What was up with these guys? They weren’t even trying to be subtle.

“You want a pull?” He asked with a smirk, shaking the bottle in his hand at you.

Shaking your head, you cleared your throat, “I’m looking for the President… Where would I find him?”

Grey Goose bottle guy wiggled his eyebrows at you. Gross. “Ah I see… you want Mr. President. I think he’s in his room.” You wanted to be cordial, but these people just weren’t making it easy.

“What room is his again?” You asked, batting your eyelashes in the most normal way possible – as if that was normal for you.

Grey Goose placed his hand under his chin and tapped it as if deep in thought. He paused and smiled, “I’ll tell you if you take a pull.”

Where were you right now? In what dimension was this actually happening to you? If you told your friends back home about having to take a pull from a bottle of Grey Goose in order to find the President of a fraternity to get him to stop maybe letting people hook up in the room you’re paying for, they wouldn’t believe you. You didn’t believe it.

Sighing you brought your hand up, in a “give it to me” motion. Grey Goose smiled proudly and brings the bottle up, tipping it into your mouth once you have your head leaned back and lips parted. It felt like forever by the time he finally brings the bottle up from your mouth. The burning sensation in your throat makes you want to throw up, and for a moment you think you are, but somehow you manage to take a deep breath and control yourself.

“That was awesome! I think you took like a shot and a half.” I know, you wanted to yell at him, but you bit your tongue. Usually pull meant a swig, not 66 milliliters of vodka.

Wiping your lips with the back of your hand, already feeling lightheaded, you repeated your earlier question, “what room is his?”

Grey Goose nodded, “he’s on the third floor. There’s a huge sign on the door that says President with the chapter’s crest, you can’t miss it.” If it truly was that easy, maybe you should have just gone looking yourself instead of being blackmailed into consuming alcohol the night before you had to work.

“Thanks,” you muttered to him, not bothering to wait and hear a response. You found yourself back at the main stairs, taking two steps at a time until you reached the third floor. It wasn’t long before you realized Grey Goose was right, his room wasn’t hard to miss.

Usually you were a rational thinker. You liked thinking out your thoughts before you turned them into actions, but in this case, you couldn’t stop yourself from knocking on the door as soon as you’re in front of it.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

There’s no answer. Was it possible he wasn’t in his room anymore? You tried again.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

This time your ears catch noise behind the door. There was someone inside, but they were just choosing to ignore you.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

This time the noise was clearer and you can make out specific words being said.

“Maybe they’ll just go away.”

Before you could stop your usual logical mind, you’re reaching for the doorknob – annoyed by this “President” who was trying to make you leave. To your surprise, the handle turns and you swung the door open slowly, being met with a mostly dark room aside from one bedside lamp being on.

“What the fuck?” The deep voice startled you as if you had been expecting no one to actually be on the other side of the door. What the hell were you doing?

Your eyes landed on the large bed in the middle of the room and you really wished you hadn’t. The two half naked figures on top of one another looked at you with wide eyes, the girl immediately grabbing the comforter to cover herself pushing the guy, causing him to fall off the bed.

“Are you for real right now?” the guy asked you from the floor, “get the fuck out!”

You felt frozen in your spot, your hand still on the door knob and unable to break your gaze from the boy on the floor. It was like you were a virgin again based on the way you were staring at his toned chest and muscular arms. You were certain if he hadn’t been sitting and crouched on the floor, you would be eyeing the black boxer briefs that rest on his hips.

“What’s wrong with you? I said get out!”

It’s almost as though his second demand for you to leave is what woke you up, suddenly mumbling a “sorry,” and shutting the door closed.

Opening the door to someone’s room without approval wasn’t something you typically did – you had simply done it as a reaction to the stressful situation you were in. Openly staring at a frat boy definitely wasn’t something you typically did either. It was like your brain had shut off and you weren’t going to let it happen again.

You continued standing in front of the door, unsure of what to do. Should you wait for him to… finish? Was that even the President? Maybe this was your sign that the third floor was the hook up floor. If so, then you were in the clear to go back to your room… so why didn’t your feet want to move?

“Mina come on! Don’t leave! We can keep going!” This time the voice behind the door is much louder and clear.

“You were dumb enough to leave it unlocked! I shouldn’t even be doing this anyways… my loyalty lies with Sigma Chi.” 

“What? Just because they’re Phi Mu’s affiliate frat? That’s bullshit!”

“My sisters will kill me if they find out I was with a Lambda,” you heard her say, her voice becoming louder signaling she was approaching the door.

“I don’t understand why that has to stop us from fucking though!”

The door swung open and you find yourself taking a step back, looking away to pretend like you weren’t eavesdropping. The girl glanced at you and rolled her eyes before ignoring the boy behind and heading down the hallway to go downstairs.

While pretending to be fixated on the wall’s chipped paint, you glanced out of the corner of your eye to see the guy in his doorway, clearly annoyed at the situation. He ran his hand through his hair out of frustration and you can’t ignore how fluffy it looked. You watched him run it through three times, before you make yourself look away.

“You,” he grumbled pointing at you, “Here. Now.” He quickly turned, going back into his room, leaving the door open for you to follow. You think that maybe you shouldn’t follow him, but judging on the way he looked back at you with an intimidating stare, it was probably the right choice.

You awkwardly stood next to his desk and watched him reach into his closet to grab a robe to throw over his naked torso, shielding his body from you. As he tied it and sat down on the bed, leaning forward, you’re able to see a sliver of his chest and collarbone where the robe hangs down. It confused you as to why he wouldn’t just put his regular clothes back on, but you found yourself not being annoyed in the slightest at the display of skin.

His eyes bore into you, and it’s almost as though he’s waiting for you to speak first – to say something to make up for your invasion of his privacy.

“Are you the President?”

He looked at you as if you were insane, “what the hell does it say on the door?”

All of the annoyance and frustration that had fueled your fire downstairs, making you a woman on a rampage had dissipated. For some reason standing in front of this guy, you felt like a small child being talked down to. In any other situation you would fight back and show him you weren’t going to take his tone, but for some reason you couldn’t find it in you.

“I was just making sure… okay?”

Mr. President cracked his knuckles, “Why the hell did you barge into my room?” You don’t answer him. You were trying to think of what you would normally say or do to a guy like this, but your mind went blank once again. “You just cost me a hook up tonight, so speak.” His tone is a mixture of aggravated and bored – if that was something that was even possible.

“I mean you’re the one who left the door unlocked…” you mumbled to yourself, but the anger on his face signals that he heard. He threw up his hands, “That still doesn’t give you the right to just walk into a room that’s not yours.”

That really got you. You felt the flame within you being lit once again. “Look who’s talking.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“You’re the one who’s letting people’s rooms be used for sex without their permission. Invading their privacy!” you growled.

Mr. President blinked at you blankly and judging on his reaction, it almost seemed like he didn’t know what you were talking about. Oh… he’s good.

“Excuse me? What kind of place do you think this is? This isn’t an authoritarian regime.”

You took a step forward to where he sat on the bed, waving your finger, “then explain to me why one of your little minions downstairs told me that.”

“I have no clue who would tell you that… or why.”

“Bucket hat… football,” those are the only two words you can think of to describe him, but you hoped that would be enough. Almost instantly he nodded, “Ah Jaebeom… Yeah he was definitely just fucking with you.”

You took a step back out of shock. This was all a joke? These idiot Lambda Chi boys had been playing you? “So, I took a pull from Grey Goose guy’s bottle for nothing? I came up here for nothing? I walked in on you and Ms. Phi Mu for nothing?”

He ignored your comment about the girl’s sorority, a clear admission that you had been listening through the door, “Grey Goose? Do you mean Youngjae?”

The last fifteen minutes had filled you with enough inconveniences, stress, annoyance and embarrassment to feel like a lifetime… and this was only after one week of living in this house. How were you going to last the entire summer? Deal with all of the parties… the douchey boys objectifying you and treating everything like it was a funny joke. Not to mention their chapter’s President who seemed bitter and rude. Surprisingly attractive… but bitter and rude.

Instead of confirming Mr. President’s suspicions that Grey Goose guy was indeed this Youngjae person, you nodded solemnly towards the direction of his door, “I’m going to my room.”

“Wait… you’re living here over the summer?”

When he asked the question, you begin to feel the alcohol you had consumed earlier. Instead of feeling drunk it made you feel dizzy, tired and heavy. It made you feel even more defeated than you already felt from your sudden reality that this was your life for the next three months.

You threw up an unenthusiastic thumbs up and slowly made your way to the door. He looked at you stunned for your sudden disengagement in the conversation you were having. Although to you it didn’t feel like a conversation. Conversations were meant to be constructive, collaborative… Whatever this was, wasn’t that.

You’re in the doorway when he speaks again, “It’s Mark by the way… for when you dream about me later.”

Clenching your fists, you don’t give him the satisfaction of looking back no matter how much you weirdly want to. To see his fluffy hair, bounce as he shakes his head from side to side, that golden tanned skin, his huge-

That’s enough.

That night it takes you nearly two hours to fall asleep. You spend the first hour with a pillow over your head, trying to drown out the party downstairs. The second however, is spent thinking about one… Mr. President. It makes you feel nauseated and when you finally wake up for work the next the morning, all you can remember is the fluffy hair in your dream.

Four days had passed since the party and you hadn’t run into any of the brothers since then. No Kyle, no bucket hat, no Grey Goose. Or Bambam, Jaebom and Youngjae… or whatever. And no Mark. Not that you had been thinking about seeing him again.

Those four days felt peaceful – normal almost, that was until now. Those calming four days came to an end when you came home from your afternoon shift at work, the guys all sitting on the front porch with beers in their hands.

You were quite aware of “porch” culture amongst the fraternities at your school. The members would drag ratty old indoor furniture such as loveseats and armchairs onto the porch near the front door and sit there for hours. They’d drink their beers, play their loud music and shout things at people walking by. Yes, you knew porch culture very well… It was how you had met your ex-boyfriend.

“Well look who we have here!” Jaebeom – sans bucket hat – shouted as you began walking up the path to the porch, “haven’t seen you since the party sweetheart.”

“Shut up man you can’t say that stuff anymore. Feminism and all that,” Bambam said hitting Jaebeom’s shoulder. If you were held at gunpoint and forced to pick a favorite out of them – it would probably be Bambam. He had done the least to annoy you thus far, but you weren’t holding your breath.

“I’m going inside,” you hoped your emotionless tone is enough to get them to leave you be and just get into the house. You’d rather not spend any more time than you have to with the guys – especially during porch time.

“Heard you got history on the row Y/n,” Youngjae’s words made you stop in your tracks. This was the last thing you wanted to talk about, especially with them. You gave Youngjae a death glare, trying to communicate with him to keep his Grey Goose filled mouth shut.

The way Mark looked up at you behind his IPA doesn’t go unnoticed by you. In his mind he was trying to be discrete. He tried to present a look that was a mixture of intrigue but also indifference, even though in reality he was eager to hear his friend’s story about you.

“Some Sigma Chi history to be more specific,” Youngjae wiggled his eyebrows and you have to stop yourself from slapping the smile off of his face.

If there was anything you truly knew about frat guys, it was that every action they did or thing they said was all meant to get a reaction out whatever person they’re torturing. Acting like you didn’t care was going to bring the stakes down for Youngjae and he would ditch the story altogether. Clearing your throat, you shrugged your shoulders, “yeah so what. It’s history and history is in the past so… that’s all that needs to be said.”

He looked at you with the same stupid smile and it doesn’t falter at all. You must have shown too big of a reaction in your response.

“You dated Ryan for almost a year – I’d say that’s a record for someone at Sigma Chi,” him and the boys laughed – all of them except Mark who’s still looking at you, but pretending not to.

You tell yourself not to get upset, not to get angry or cry – because that’s what they wanted from you. Here they were treating the “relationship” you were in like a joke and you had to remain a stone wall, unaffected. Well fuck that.

“Yeah it was a record for me falling for the stupid and douchery of the typical frat guy who was actually fucking other girls the entire time unbeknownst to me because in actuality he never considered us together. But hey what can you do when you’re dealing with guys who have big egos and small dicks?”

The boys stared at you with blank faces, you swear you see Mark smile behind his bottle.

“Is she talking about us too?” Jaebeom whispered to Bambam, “Dude… I think maybe.” Without another word, you pushed open the front door aggressively, making sure it closes behind you loudly.

You don’t know why you thought your “relationship” with your ex-boyfriend was going to work out. The two of you had met because you had been passing by his house during porch time and he cat called you. What the fuck were you thinking? Even at that point you had thought guys in fraternities were terrible, but for some reason that day you just went along with one of them objectifying you… And you fucking made him into your “boyfriend.” That day you had been feeling insecure and low – that was the only explanation you had for your out of character actions.

Being with Ryan only continued your influx of out of character actions. You spent all you free time with him when you weren’t in school or working. Apparently however, all of his free time hadn’t been spent with you. The truth came out after you had planned on staying with him over the summer at his family’s lake house. It had been something you two had talked about for months and when you were only a month away, he had hit you with a bomb.

“Maybe we shouldn’t do this live together thing over the summer. Samantha might get mad.”

To which you had asked, “who’s Samantha?” Then the guy who you had thought was your boyfriend went on to explain how the other girl he was seeing – Samantha – would get jealous if he brought you to the lake house instead of her. The next thing to come out of your mouth was a big “fuck you” and “I never want to see you again.” Hence why your decision to stay at school over the summer was so last minute and you were forced to stay in a fraternity house which was so much like the one your heart had been broken in only a month earlier.

You should have known Ryan wasn’t serious about you – no frat guy at your school would ever be serious with an unaffiliated girl like you. The sex should have told you how serious he was. It would always be the fast, rough kind of fucking where he mostly had you in doggy position or with your mouth around his dick. There was none of the lazy, slow passionate sex that came when you were actually serious or mesmerized by someone.

“What the hell is up with Sigma Chi getting all the hot girls?” you heard Jaebeom ask from the porch. The idiots had left the front window open so anyone could hear what they were talking about – but there weren’t really any boundaries when it came to brotherhood. Instead of leaving and going upstairs, you remained frozen in your spot with an ear positioned to the window. For some reason it seemed like living in this house was turning you into an eavesdropper.

“Guys don’t talk about her like that.” The chiming in from Mark surprised you, he had been so silent outside when you had been present that you didn’t really expect him to defend you.

“Oh really, why?”

“She’s not just a hot girl…” Mark paused for dramatic effect and you can practically hear all the guys on the edge of their seats, “she’s a super-hot girl.” You rolled your eyes as he finished his thought about you, the guys all giving him high fives and verbal agreement.

“So, what do you say Mr. President? Gonna try to hit that?”

Mark didn’t answer the second question, “Mr. President?”

Bambam laughed, “Oh yeah I overheard her on the phone the other night and that’s what she called you.” Okay maybe Bambam was no longer your favorite, “Mr. President and his fluffy hair.” You aren’t sure if you should be embarrassed because of him exposing you or offended because of the voice he uses to mimic your own. You did not sound like that.

Once again, all the guys laugh, but this time you can’t hear Mark’s own stand out giggling in the mix. For some reason you wished you could see his face right now. That’s when you decide it’s probably best to go upstairs.

“Take it, take it all,” Mark growled into your ear as he thrusted into you at a brutal pace. You couldn’t respond to him; your mind was too hazed over with pleasure.

“Wow my cock’s that good that you forgot how to speak? I know you think you’re smarter than me, but it looks like you’re wrong. All it takes is for me to be inside of you for one fucking minute for you to act like you don’t even know your own name.”

He’s right. He’s so right and all you can do is agree with him.

He brings his hand down between the two of you to rest on your clit, tapping his finger at the same pace he pumps into you at. “I know you think I’m a dumb frat boy who’s only good at drinking and partying, but how about now, hmm? Don’t you think I’m good at fucking this tight pussy?”

You awake with a gasp. You’re covered in sweat and your hand has somehow found its way underneath your shorts and underwear. Why the fuck were you having a sex dream about Mark? It felt like your entire body was on fire, even your fan being on the high setting wasn’t going to help you in cooling down.

Getting out of bed, you decided to head downstairs to the kitchen. What you needed was a popsicle and a bag of ice. The ice was to help how hot you felt, the popsicle was a distraction from thinking about whatever the fuck your subconscious had just come up with.

“Hello?” The voice coming out of nowhere causes you to jump as you swing one of the freezers in the large kitchen open. You attempted to squint your eyes in the darkness to make out who the voice belongs too, but it’s too difficult to see.

“If you keep your eyes like that, you’re going to ruin your vision,” the lowness of the voice takes you back to only moments ago in your room when you had been hot and absolutely bothered. It was the same voice from your dream.

“What are you doing down here?” you asked, moving your head around the space, still unable to properly see him.

Suddenly, Mark’s face comes into view as he stepped closer to you so he could be seen in the light of the freezer, he’s so close, you hold your breath, “what? No hello?”

You scoffed, “I usually don’t when people are just down here sitting in the dark.” Mark doesn’t respond to your comment about him lurking and positioned his glance to where your hand was placed in the freezer, “feeling hot?” Your eyes went wide, “w-what?”

He pointed to you hand resting on the box of popsicles, “the popsicles…” Laughing awkwardly you pulled one out from the package and go to reach for an ice pack, “oh… yeah.”

Mark nodded his head, “it’s pretty hot tonight… That’s why I came down here. You know heat rises and all that stuff… I’m on the third floor so…” he drifted off and his tone sounds off, unlike when you had first met him. He almost sounded nervous?

“Listen… I want to apologize for the guys on the porch the other day. They brought up all that stuff about you and your Sigma Chi dude… and it wasn’t cool.” You don’t think about the fact that he called you super-hot and laughed with all the guys, but instead you focus on how surprisingly genuine Mark sounded.

“I’m sorry too about coming into your room and ruining your night.”

“Nah you didn’t ruin my life,” there’s a weird pause and it makes you look away from him, but he’s quick to continue, “I mean that girl was just some stupid Phi Mu bimbo.” Without thinking about it, you hit his arm and he flinched at the pain, “ow!”

“You can’t call a woman stupid or a bimbo just because she wouldn’t sleep with you!” He placed his hands up in surrender, “Sorry, sorry! I’m still learning.”

Mark reached behind you into the freezer and grabbed a popsicle himself. When his arm brushes your shoulder and he gets close enough that you can feel his breath on your face you feel the same pulsing in your core from your dream.

“You should probably eat that… It’ll melt,” he motioned to the popsicle in your hand once he’s back in his original spot, “and close the freezer.”

“Right…” you nodded. It felt like you suddenly lost all intellect when you were around this guy, what was happening to you? It had happened with Ryan… but not on this scale at all.

Shutting the freezer, you’re both met with the darkness of the kitchen. This time you’re able to focus in on Mark’s face despite it being pitch black, both of you opening the wrappers of your icy dessert.

“Besides…” Mark began, going back to the previous topic, “from what I’ve learned… sorority girls are trouble. Not really what I’m looking for. I’d much rather be with someone unaffiliated.” His words caused you to choke on your popsicle, coughing until you feel like there’s no breath in you. Mark’s thankful for the darkness, otherwise you’d see his smile at you being so caught off guard.

“Are you okay?” He asked patting your back, just as you’re at the end of your coughing fit.

You nodded your head, but then realize he probably couldn’t see your gesture at being fine, “yeah I’m okay… just… went down the wrong pipe, ya know?”

“Oh, I know.” The way he said it almost suggests something, but you try not to think about it. Otherwise your panties were going to get more damp than they already were from earlier.

Mark takes a deep breath in and sighs after a moment, “I know you think I’m a dumb frat boy who’s only good at drinking and partying-” he began, but you cut him off immediately when you recognize his choice of words.

No fucking way.

They were the words from your dream. You felt your heart beat out of your chest and you became worried. You really didn’t want to hear what he was going to say next.

“I’m going to bed!”

“What?” Mark feels confused at your sudden announcement and the way you quickly rush out of the kitchen, the sound of your feet running up the stairs the only reply to his question.

You were strange… that was for sure. But he kinda liked it.

Smiling to himself, Mark finished up his popsicle in the darkness and headed upstairs to go to sleep.

“Mark fuck… please fuck me.”

“Oh, is that all you want from me? Is that all I’m good for?”

You aren’t sure what to say, what you need to do to convince him. “N-no.”

“Then tell me… what do you want from me... Really?”

The quick racing of your heart awoke you from your dream. Fuck… not another one.

Should you go see a therapist? Why was this happening to you? It was the third night in a row you had woken up to a Mark Tuan sex dream. This one however, felt different. Unlike the two before it where he was rough with you – this one it seemed like dream you wanted more. Of course, dream you wanted to still be fucked senseless by him – aka the frat boy way – but she was also holding back. She wanted more. She wanted something else. But what?

Climbing out of your bed, you trail down the hallway to the bathroom.

During normal term time all of the bathrooms were for the guys living in the house, but luckily for you they made a few of the bathrooms in the house “ladies only” for the few girls living in the house over the summer. You pushed the door of the bathroom open, being met with the now familiar poorly drawn and weirdly sexual woman stick figure picture taped over original sign.

Expecting to see an empty bedroom, you felt your jaw drop to the floor at Mark’s naked figure in the shower. He hadn’t even bothered closing the curtain.

You felt like you couldn’t move, you felt like you couldn’t think. With his eyes closed under the stream of water, your eyes trailed down his muscular shoulders to his toned abdomen, slowly going down to his length. The same one you had been dreaming about for the last three nights and your fantasies certainly didn’t do it justice.

Before you could truly comprehend the creepiness level of what you were doing, you heard Mark yelp in shock.

“What are you doing!” he yelled, grabbing the curtain from the side and moving it over the lower half of his body.

Your mouth went dry, “I-I-” You attempted to say something, but you felt your eyes watch the droplets of water that cascade down his skin.

“Y/n!” His words snapped you back into motion and you look up at him. It was difficult to say whether the redness on his cheeks were coming from the heat of the water or from his embarrassment of the situation. Mark himself wasn’t sure.

“I- this is the girl’s bathroom. Why are you in here?”

“This bathroom has the best water pressure in the house… I thought since it was so late no one would come in,” he stuttered.

Even though you’re supposed to be having a conversation with him, you find yourself still thinking about how he looked when you first walked in. How long and thick his cock was.

Still recovering from your dream and the peep show you had just been exposed to, you find yourself moving closer to the shower, “you didn’t even close the curtain… It’s almost like you wanted someone to come in here and find you.” He doesn’t say anything, but you make no mistake of noticing the way he grips the curtain harder against his body and the way his breathing gets heavier.

“Did you want someone to find you?” You’re so close to him now that you can feel the steam from the shower opening your pores.

Mark licked his lips, “maybe I wanted you to come find me.”

“Maybe or you did?”

“You know… you do kind of owe me.”

You furrowed your eyebrows. What was he talking about? Weren’t you guys being all sexy? Weren’t you about to do something?

At your nonresponse he smirked and dropped the curtain, revealing all of himself to you once again, “you cockblocked me, so now it’s time for you to make up for it.”

Just like that with your core beginning to throb almost painfully at how much it wants to be touched, you’re set into motion. You join him in the shower, not even caring about getting your pajamas wet. It’s almost as if no logic matters in this moment to you, instead it’s all about you and Mark and your desires for one another.

He pulled you into a heated kiss, pulling you flush against his soaking wet body. You feel his length pressed up against you and you moaned instinctively at the feeling. Your hands roam up and down his body, feeling those muscles you had been obsessing over since your first encounter, stopping when your hand reaches his hardened member.

Instantly Mark groaned out at the feeling of your hand slowly stroking him. He had already felt sensitive and worked up as he had already been thinking about having you under him before you had entered the bathroom.

Mark’s noises send you into another moment of not caring about reality as you kneeled down before him. In any other situation you would be disgusted at the fact that you were willingly on your knees on the floor of a frat’s shower, but this wasn’t any other situation.

You plunge yourself onto him, mouth wide and your tongue lapping at his head. The sudden and almost vicious sucking nearly caused Mark to lose his balance and slip. You pay no mind to the water cascading down your back and beginning to weigh down your hair as you feel yourself be spurred on by the grunts and moans leaving Mark’s mouth.

As you moved more him into your mouth getting a mixture of pre-cum and water dripping from the corners of your lips, you felt Mark buck his hips into you further. The sudden fullness in your mouth until his head was at the back of your throat made you choke around him, Mark bringing his hand to the top of your head to stroke your hair.

“I know how good you are at choking. I know how much you love it, keep fucking going.”

The vibrations from you moaning at his words caused Mark to throw his head back, “show me how much you want my cum. Moan for me, show me.”

Bobbing your head up and down his length, you make no mistake as you continue your noises around him – not for his benefit, but you genuinely felt turned on at just giving him head.

“Fuck, I’m gonna-” before he finished his thought, you felt his warm release in your mouth and you make sure to swallow it instantly.

The sounds of the shower running and Mark’s heavy breathing, coming down from his climax fill the bathroom. It feels like you could just stay here on your knees forever listening to the sounds and you would be fine.

Once Mark catches his breath, he leant down to grab your hand and lifted you up off the wet – and probably filthy – ground. He pulls you into his arms and placed a kiss on your forehead, “damn what the hell am I going to do with you?”

It’s like his words mean more than what he’s going to do with you in the bedroom and somehow that is the thing that finally snapped you into reality. It’s not seeing him naked; it’s not kissing him; it’s not getting down on your knees and suck him dry and it certainly isn’t swallowing his cum. What the hell am I going to do with you?

What the hell was he going to do with you? And what the hell were you going to do with him? The two of you didn’t make sense and you had to remind yourself that you were in a frat house… doing things of a sexual nature with a frat bro. You were not going to find yourself trapped like you were with Ryan. You had sworn off the kind of guy Mark is. You needed to leave it here… no matter how wet and turned on you were right now.

You took a step back, away from Mark and out of his arms, “I- um I should get dry.”

Mark took a step forward and you took another back. He cocked his head to the side, “well… let me help you.” His seductive gaze doesn’t go unnoticed to you, but you have to think with your head for a second. You had already gone against your own “no more frat boys, they can’t commit” beliefs once, you couldn’t do it a second time. You had to quit while you were ahead.

“I’m going to head to bed,” you stepped down from the shower and onto the bathroom tile. Mark lost for words at your sudden distance, “what? Why? Let me take care of you… You haven’t-” Waving your hands, you cut him off not wanting to hear it, “Mark… Don’t. Let’s just leave this at this. Me blowing you because I owed you one…” when it comes out of your mouth, you realize just how ridiculous it all sounded.

Mark took a step toward you, also coming out of the shower and reached to grab his towel, wrapping it around his waist. “Leave it at this? Y/n… I don’t think you understand, I-”

“Mark, I know the kind of guy you are. It’s who your friends are, it’s who all the guys living in this house are, it’s who my fucking ex-boyfriend was. I really can’t do another guy who’s just going to fuck me like I’m an object and be under his charming douchey spell, thinking that he’s all mine. I already did it once and if I did it twice, I think it would kill me. I’m sorry if I led you on or whatever by sucking your dick and making you think that we were going to fuck… and as much as my body wants to, I know it would be smart for me.”

Despite the seriousness of your words and confession, Mark found himself chuckling at the end of your monologue. He’s laughing at your word choice of “sorry if I led you on or whatever by sucking your dick,” but you don’t think about it that way. You think he’s laughing at all of it.

Typical frat guy, you think.

When he noticed the way, your mouth turned into a frown, he feels his heart leap out of his chest. He didn’t want to see you upset… ever. If he could just take some time to talk out how he was feeling to you, then maybe you’d understand how he was – “Goodnight Mark. I’d ask you not to tell you friends about this, but I know you will.”

And just like that you’re gone.

Two weeks and there had been no words exchanged between you and Mark. He had tried countless times to get your attention and talk to you, but you acted as if he didn’t exist. It didn’t go unnoticed by the other people in the house. Bambam prided himself on picking up on sexual tension and when he saw the way you and Mark acted around each other on that day on the porch, he felt it. Sure, the two of you hadn’t said anything, but Bambam could feel the pull between the two of you.

Although previously you didn’t talk to Mark that often in general, Bambam could sense something had happened – something wasn’t right between the two of you. It made him upset to see his brother so down, so… emotional.

“Guys… We have to do something about this Mark and Y/n situation,” Bambam said as he watched Jaebeom and Youngjae practice their beer pong aim in the backyard.

Youngjae looked at him confused, “what do you mean Mark and Y/n situation? There’s something going on there?”

Bambam felt like he wanted to hit him. How Youngjae could be so clueless? He wasn’t sure. “Do you not understand basic human emotions?” The older boy blinked at him mindlessly, before going back to throw the ball at the cups on the other side of the table.

“So anyways… I was thinking we could-”

“That was two! That was two! It totally hit the side of the other cup before it went in!” Youngjae yelled, interrupting Bambam’s big idea.

“Are you kidding? No way. Just take the one or I won’t even give you that,” Jaebeom rolled his eyes, he had enough of Youngjae’s cheating.

“What do you mean you won’t even give me that one? It went in!”

“Guys!” Bambam yelled, interrupting their bickering over the trivial game. They both looked at him with wide eyes, “Can you listen to me? I have a plan.”

Yawning, you decided it was probably time to head in for the night. It had been another long week of trying not to think about Mark.

You barely knew anything about the guy… but for some reason you had this weird pull to him. Deep inside your stomach you had this feeling telling you that this was the guy for you, he could be the one. You pushed it all down, your mind was just playing tricks on you – you were delusional thinking he could be the one.

Heading down the hallway to the bathroom – yes, the same bathroom – to brush your teeth you spot Youngjae coming down the corner. You tried your best to avoid his gaze, it was better safe than sorry to just proceed by ignoring Mark’s friends too.

Out of the corner of your eye as you pass one another, you notice the strange way he stares at you. It’s almost in a diabolical way… but that wouldn’t make sense, right?

Weird.

You’re probably on your sixth yawn when you finally head back to your room, reaching the door and going to turn the handle. Except… the handle won’t turn and your door won’t open.

No, this can’t be happening right now…

Trying again a few more times, you realize it had somehow locked on you. And you… like the idiot you are, left the key inside when you went to the bathroom. Was God playing some kind of sick joke on you? How were you supposed to go to sleep tonight?

That’s when it dawned on you that there was only one option.

The President has a master key to all the rooms

Jaebeom’s words flashed in your head over and over again. You tried to think of something else that could get you back in your room and under your warm covers tonight, but you come up short. You had to go up to Mark’s room.

Slowly going up the stairs to the third floor, you find yourself on the borderline of passing out at how completely nauseous and lightheaded you feel. The only way you could truly make this out alive was if you just pretended to be confident.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

The door swung open immediately after the third knock, Mark looking surprised to see you at his door.

He felt his hands grow clammy, “Uh… What’s up?”

“I-I locked myself out of my room… And I heard the President as the master key so… here I am.” Mark felt his heart fall at the reason for your visit. Some stupid part of him had thought that maybe you were here for him and not a key to your room, “yeah… just give me a minute.”

Mark stepped inside and you reluctantly follow him, letting the door shut behind you with a bang. Both of you jump at the noise and softly laugh when you notice.

“I get scared easily,” you mumbled.

Mark snorted, “I can tell.”

Crossing your arms, you moved towards him, “What’s that supposed to me?”

“What do you think? That you’re too scared to explore anything you have with someone, because you got hurt once. Tough, Y/n but getting hurt and let down is a part of life,” he looked at you once as he fumbled through his drawer, looking for the key.

“It’s not just that I’ve been hurt. You’re a-” He cut you off, rolling his eyes done with your overdone argument, “I’m a frat guy, I get it. We’re all the same, blah blah blah. Save it for your dissertation on how I’m scum for your Psych class or whatever.”

“I don’t think you’re scum,” you said softly.

Mark shut the drawer, unable to locate the key in this part of his desk and turned to you, “then why do you hate me so much?”

You shuffled in place, unsure of what do with all of these pent-up feelings that not even you were sure how to describe – and you were the one feeling them. “I don’t hate you. In fact, that’s the problem… I like you so much, I’m so attracted to you and I barely know you! I’ve had so many dreams about you that it’s made it all even worse.”

Before you could stop him, you felt Mark’s lips on yours and you find yourself being suffocated again – sidetracked from your original intentions of forgetting him. However, the way his mouth moved against yours and the way his tongue slipped past the crease of your lips made you not care. But of course, he was a good kisser, he probably did this all the time to all the girls.

You felt his fingers grip the hem of your top. He bunched the material just below your breasts as his hands splayed across your ribcage. He allowed you to pull away, your chest heaving and your eyes closed, before he tugged the material of your top up and over your head. The two of you looked at each other, as if absorbing what the two of you were doing.

When he dropped the fabric onto the floor, he moved his mouth to your neck. He can’t help himself as he marked your collarbones with his teeth, every inch of you is practically covered with marks when he’s done. While your mind is caught up in the feeling of his lips on your neck, his hands moved to cup your breasts.

He made you feel so damn good, you didn’t care anymore.

“Mark,” you breathed as you shifted your head to give him better access, “d-do whatever you want. Fuck me however you want. Just do something.” 

You could feel the vibrations of Mark’s laughter against your neck as he reached around your back to unsnap your bra before he pulled away to watch the material fall to the floor. His eyes glued to your chest for a moment, his pupils darkening with lust, before he returned his lips to yours in a heated kiss. 

Your hands dipped beneath the fabric of his t-shirt. You allowed your hands a moment to roam, before you break the kiss and tugged the material of his shirt up and over his head. Once again you feel hypnotized by his chest, just as you had been the first night you met him. You wanted to trace your finger over every muscle, every vain and every inch of skin. Mark helped you out of your pajama pants and returned his lips to your neck. 

“As much as I would love to do fuck you until you feel me in every single part of your body, I want to take my time. To show you just how beautiful you are, just how much I want you.” 

In your sex induced brain you have a moment of clarity to consider his words. Take his time? Weren’t frat boys supposed to be rushed, quick and just be rough with you? You had not a doubt in your mind that Mark would be able to deliver on that, based on how he had first acted around you… but slow? Sensual? Was he even capable of that? You weren’t expecting him to be so… soft and delicate. It wasn’t a part of his brand. 

This time when Mark brings his lips back to you, they’re much softer – he kissed you at an unhurried pace as if he had all the time in the world with you. He gently nudged you to lay on your back, your fingers going to tangle themselves in his fluffy hair. He brings his fingers to curl at the waistband of your panties, “is this okay?” he breathed against your lips. You feel yourself begin to grow more wet at his ask for consent. 

“Yeah,” you mumbled, your eyes closed and your hands tugging at his hair, “more than okay.” 

With your permission, Mark slipped his hand into your panties. Brushing your folds lazily, his fingers gentle and unhurried as he allowed you to pull away and catch your breath. When he brushes your clit and felt yourself jolt in surprise beneath him. He attached his lips to your neck and began pressing kisses along the column of your throat. 

No words are spoken as you moved one hand from his hair and gently squeezed his hardening cock over his sweats. Mark moaned against your skin and moved his fingers a little quicker but not changing his lazy pace as he worked to rile you up. It doesn’t take long as he slipped a finger into your heat and hears you release a content sigh at the feeling. 

“You’re so gorgeous usually,” he whispered against the column of your throat as one of his hands go up to pay attention to your breasts, kneading them gently. “But, fuck, you’re even better naked.” 

At that you laughed, “You’re not so bad yourself Mr. President, you know for a frat guy and all.” He smiled at you, capturing your lips in another kiss, nudging his sweatpants and briefs down. 

The continual strokes of his fingers, working you open along with his hand on your breast makes you feel dizzy. You attempt to focus your attention elsewhere, pressing kisses to his heated skin as he rubbed your clit with his thumb. 

You could feel Mark shifting above you, reaching for the stash of condoms next to his bed, before he ripped open the foil packet and pulled away to roll the latex onto his length. His slowness practically drove you to insanity, you just wanted him inside of you now. 

“Mark please, I want it.” 

Smiling at you, he leaned forward to press a kiss on your forehead, “princess you’re going to get it all.” 

Mark returned his lips to yours as he sank into you. His pace is slow, lazy and soft, as he began fucking into you. You had always thought that slow and sensual sex was the best kind of sex, but maybe you were wrong. With Mark it felt like your whole body was on fire – it was pure torture. The way he jutted his hips into you at a rhythm had your core aching for more. It was like all of your senses were heightened, everything felt so much more pleasureful with the way your body was hanging on every thrust. 

He buried his face into the crook of your neck and groaned as he felt you tug at his hair again. You felt like you were going to go insane and you needed something to grab onto. For you, Mark was willing to do or be whatever you wanted – something he had never remotely thought of doing for anyone ever, including the guys in the fraternity. He was ready to be at your beck and call, to take you like this – making you feel every single stroke, every single time pump into you. 

Mark brings his hand between the two of you back to your core and circled your clit once again, allowing you to fall over the edge. “I know you’re going to look so pretty when you cum, please cum for me. I’ve been thinking about it since that night in the shower.” 

His mention of the shower brings you back to thinking about how good it felt to have him in your mouth, how good he tasted when he came on your tongue, how much you’d like to be on your knees for him again. These final thoughts have you clenching around Mark, his groaning getting more consistent telling you that he’s close. He nipped at your skin and sucked the spot under your jaw at the same time he thrusted himself at a semi-faster pace, hitting your g-spot. That finally makes every part of your body go numb, and you feel your hips buck forward involuntarily, everything in you spasming. 

As he watched your strong release and felt your walls throb around him, Mark began falling over the edge himself. You felt his hips stutter, his breathing shallow, and his hand clenched your hip firmly as he spilled into the condom and you found yourself wanting the moment to last forever as he remained on top of you. You feel him everywhere, warm and solid and entirely him. He pressed a kiss to your lips, another lazy peck, before he pulled away to tie the condom, tossing it somewhere on the ground of his messy room. 

“Are you really just going to throw that on the ground?” you laughed. Mark shrugged, “what if you forget about it later?” 

He smiled, wrapping his arms around your naked body and brings you as close to him as he can, “nah there’s no way I would forget this.”

Two Months Later

It was hard to believe that summer was finally ending and the new school year was right around the corner. No longer would be stuck in what you once considered was your own personal Hell – the Lambda Chi Alpha house. 

The personal Hell had somehow shaped itself into one of the biggest blessings of your life. It had given you Mark Tuan. 

“Finally, you’re home!” Mark smiled, patting the open spot next to him on the love seat at your return from work. 

As soon as you plopped down, Mark pulled you close to him, resting one arm around your shoulder and the other on your thigh, “want the aux cord?” he mumbled into your shoulder, nuzzling the side of his head against it. 

“No! She always gets aux cord when she’s porchin’ it up with us! It’s not fair! She plays that weird K-pop stuff and makes us the laughing stock of the whole street!” Jaebeom whined. 

You laughed, “Don’t knock it until you try it!” 

“I have tried it and I hate it,” Jaebeom quipped back, crossing his arms to show his firm disagreement on the matter. 

“Fine let’s do One Direction this time.” 

“Like that’s any better!” 

“Can you guys shut up I’m trying to think of something to say to that girl,” Youngjae grumbled in annoyance at your bickering with Jaebeom. 

You looked to see a girl walking by the house. Judging on her large backpack, casual clothes and tired face she had been at the library. You doubt she would be up for any unwarranted cat calling. “Don’t say anything!” 

Youngjae looked at you confused, “what… I’m trying to shoot my shot.” 

“As a girl, please trust me when I say don’t.” Youngjae pursed his lips in thought, “not even if I just tell her she has a nice smile?” You look at the girl frowning, “she’s not smiling and no not even that.” 

“Get a load of this guy,” Bambam said as a guy in Phi Kappa Tau letters walks by – most likely to his house. Judging on all of the times you’ve spent on the porch with the boys now, you knew what was coming. Standing up, he cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted, “PHI KAPPA TAU SUCKS.” The guy turned to the porch, eyeing Bambam and flipped him off. 

Sitting down, Bambam shakes his head, “it’s because he knows it’s true.” 

“Will you ever listen to me and realize that it’s stupid to shout at another frat?” you asked. 

Bambam shook his head firmly, “you can’t just get rid of tradition Y/n.” 

Mark firmly nuzzled his head into your shoulder again, kissing the side of your neck, “pay attention to me.” A clingy boyfriend might be annoying to some people and at one point in time you also thought that way, but with Mark you couldn’t get enough of it. The way that he was so dominant and attentive in the bedroom, but then so needy and clingy when it came to being in public. Especially when you were with the other guys.

“Anything for my number one frat star,” you cooed, pinching his cheek.

“You know I hate it when you call me that!” Mark whined, “you pay more attention to the guys then you do to me.” As he pouted you leaned in to give him a peck, but instead he brings the hand resting on your thigh up to cup your cheek, deepening the kiss. Youngjae, Jaebeom and Bambam all groan.

“Y/n?” Your name being called breaks you out your bubble with Mark. The bubble that made you feel like you two were the only people in the world that existed. Pulling apart from his lips, you both turned to see who the culprit is that ruined your moment.

“What the hell are you doing at Lambda?” Ryan asked. It doesn’t hurt to see him again; it was just annoying.

“Back from your lake house I take it Sigma Chi?” Mark asked. You had told Mark everything about what went down with you and Ryan – and if looks could kill… Ryan would already be in his grave.

“I’m not talking to you,” Ryan rolled his eyes, “what the hell are you doing at Lambda?” He asked again.

Without thinking about it, you find yourself standing up and cupping your hands around your mouth just as Bambam had done earlier, “SIGMA CHI SUCKS!”

Ryan couldn’t believe his eyes, he stood there blankly on the sidewalk in front of the house, “what? Very funny Y/n… I know you don’t mean-”

You do it again, “SIGMA CHI SUCKS!” The boys on the porch with you begin to laugh.

Ryan pointed a finger towards you, waving it in the air, “now just wait a minute-”

“SIGMA CHI SUCKS!”

Your ex-boyfriend clenched his jaw, “You weren’t even a good fuck anyways!” The words should hurt you, but they don’t because you know it’s not true.

“Uh… Yeah she fucking is,” Mark retorted, standing up next to you, “why don’t you go home Sigma Chi?” And just like that, you and the guys on the porch have your second middle finger of the day – this time from your ex-boyfriend.

As he walked off in the direction of the Sigma Chi house you all laughed at how blatantly offended, he was at just the fact that you had said his frat sucked. It was middle school taunting, but of course it would work on someone like Ryan. Ryan was a special breed of asshole and it makes you feel stupid to think that you had once grouped Mark with him. All of the Lambda boys.

Mark kisses your shoulder, “what are you thinking about?” His smile melted you – it always does. He was one you had been waiting for and somehow your body and subconscious knew it before you did.

“Just how happy I am to have you by my side Mr. President.”

“I’m happy to have you by my side too,” Mark hummed, but soon he pauses, “unless it’s during beer pong… because you really suck.”

“Mark!”

[mental-mona]

On Chronic Illness Part 1

You ask me how I'm doing. I plaster a smile on my face, say "Ok, how are you?" and we make small talk. But what I really want to say is, "I feel like crap. My head is killing me and I'm coming off a bipolar episode. Every day is pain. It's making me irritable, and what I really want to do right now is go home and collapse. Now, unless you want to help me in some way, would you please leave me alone so I can do that?" Except that you would be completely taken aback by that and not know how to respond. Unexpectedly telling someone that life isn't so great is not a socially acceptable thing to do; unless the person is a really close friend I'm supposed to just pretend everything's fine as we exchange the usual pleasantries. Besides, opening up and admitting that I'm having issues leaves me far too vulnerable, and who wants to be vulnerable?

If you are more than a nodding acquaintance, at this point you probably stop me and say, "But I do care! I do really want to hear about what's happening with you!" To which my response is, no, you probably don't. If I were to complain to you about how much pain I'm in as often as I want to, i.e. as much as it hurts, you would soon think that I'm horribly whiny and try to distance yourself. If I were to complain about how much this is killing my life and my ability to do anything, you would think that I'm being lazy and self-centered. Maybe I am being a bit self-centered, but let's see how well you function in this position and then we'll talk.

Let me try to help you understand. Have you ever read about spoon theory? If not, read it here. I'll wait. Do you have a little more perspective now? Good. Would you believe that Christine left out a crucial aspect of how spoons work? She touched on it, but didn't go into it. See, I can start off the day with 20 spoons, and then in the middle of the day when I've already used 8 spoons get a wave of pain or a massive mood swing that knocks off 10. Basically what happens then is that either I "borrow against tomorrow's spoons," as she put it, and guarantee that I'll be nonfunctional the next day, or more likely I ask my husband to help me out because there is no way I'm up to making dinner. Also, in addition to every little item on the day's agenda being broken down into multiple spoon-stealing pieces, some tasks may cost more than one spoon. For example, driving to class or work might be one spoon, but spending a day actually in class or at work is more like 5 spoons.

Christine talks about starting off with 12 spoons and making them last through the day, using a somewhat simplified explanation of how every tiny aspect of every task costs a spoon. Personally, due to the need to break everything down and the reasons I described above, I'd be happy if I could manage self-care on a day when I woke up with just 12 spoons, never mind do anything that you'd consider an accomplishment or even just a routine part of normal life. Imagine a day like that, where you wake up with so few spoons that the most you can expect of yourself is to put food in your stomach a few times and maybe change PJs, and that's assuming that the pain doesn't knock you out even worse than it already has. Now imagine an even worse day, one where you're so depressed that all you can do is curl up in bed and cry, or you're paralyzed by anxiety, or you're in such physical agony that you can barely move. What would you do on a day like that? Ask a loved one to come take care of you? Suffer through it with nothing but a water bottle and the tortilla chips you found in that brief moment when you managed to pull it together enough to go foraging? Now imagine having days like that on a regular basis for weeks, months, or even years. Getting the picture?

It's not just the pain itself; it's the emotions that accompany it. If you're male, you've probably been socialized to be a provider for your family and to be stoic about your physical and emotional pain, correct? If you're female, you've probably been socialized that you're supposed to take care of everyone around you, and though you're allowed to be emotional, you're also supposed to be able to move on after a good cry, right? Well, now you can't fulfill either of those gender roles. You're knocked flat, and until your doctors figure out how to cure you or at least get your symptoms under control, you will continue to be out of commission for the foreseeable future. Good luck being stoic about your pain or quickly moving on from it. If you weren't already depressed, you probably will become so now. Think about it: unrelenting pain and debilitation, inability to function as a normal member of society, needing someone or a rotating group of someones to take care of you...for your average fiercely independent adult, this is an incredibly painful prospect in and of itself.

You'll notice that in addition to pointing out how pain can depress you on its own, I've been treating physical and emotional pain as equal in terms of the definition of chronic pain. That's because to the sufferer, they are equally debilitating and feel equally horrible, even if they affect functioning in different ways. If I'm in constant physical pain then my body's run off with my mind, and no matter what my brain wants to take on, if my body isn't up for it then it's not going to happen. If my mood's gone haywire then my mind has basically run off with my body, and I won't have either the energy or the emotional wherewithal to face my life. Please don't brush off my depression or whatever debilitating thing is going on with my mind as me just being melodramatic and/or lazy. The thought of trying to face life is genuinely exhausting and overwhelming; I just can't do it. The thoughts in my head and my screwed up mental biochemistry won't let me.

Similarly, don't write off my complaints of constant physical pain as malingering or melodramatic. It really does hurt too much for me to function, and it really is a constant thing. If I say I can't do something one day, I mean it. I may have a migraine so bad that my head is throbbing in time with my heartbeat and I can't see straight, or abdominal pain so bad that all I can do is double over with a hot pack and wait for it to disappear, or all-over muscle pain so bad that I can't find any comfortable position whatsoever, or all-over joint pain that makes something protest every time I move...the list goes on. Depending on my condition, I may also be completely exhausted and fog-brained.

Remember, these are things that I feel to some extent even on good days when I can more or less function. On bad days I'm completely incapacitated. I've tried to help you understand what I'm going through, but if you've never been mentally ill or in chronic physical pain, you will never quite be able to fully get where I'm coming from. So, now do you see why you really don't want to listen to me complain about the pain as much as it actually hurts?

[mobius-prime]

253. Sonic the Hedgehog #184

Chaos Angel

Writer: Ian Flynn Pencils: Tracy Yardley! Colors: Jason Jensen

As Enerjak and Super Sonic take off to begin their epic duel for the fate of the world, their clash causes an explosive beam of light to shine so brightly it's seen as far away as Albion (which, if you'll recall, is located somewhere around the area of modern-day England, whereas we're currently closer to New York), which Nicole barely raises the New Mobotropolis shield in time to deflect. Super Sonic snaps Enerjak's staff, and when Enerjak blasts him with a wave of deadly energy in response, he casually reminds him that in his Super form, he's totally invulnerable, making this essentially a stalemate battle between two living gods. Below, Julie-Su is shocked that Sonic survived the blast, but Locke is grumpy and hopeless, saying again that Sonic should have let him kill Enerjak with the Brotherhood's weapon while they had the chance.

It's amazing how clueless and callous Locke is here. I mean, I expected nothing more from him, really, especially given that he has yet to reach the point of redemption that he did in the M25YL timeline on his deathbed, but still, he doesn't even seem to show a single ounce of remorse that this is what his son has become. As the battle rages on, the Destructix watch from somewhere else on the island, and decide they definitely don't want to get caught up in it (which, really, I can't blame them).

Scourge reveals his supercharged warp ring, with enough energy to warp them to another zone entirely, and when Fiona expresses some doubt about leaving Mobius he merely reminds her that the ongoing battle is a battle for the fate of the world, and it's better for them to take their chances elsewhere. She decides to tag along for some "fun," which is after all the reason she left Sonic for Scourge, while Super Sonic continues to try to beat some sense into Enerjak above. He manages to get a yell of "crunch time" from him, giving him hope that his plan to bring Knuckles back is working, but it's not fast enough, making him worry. Julie-Su and Archimedes teleport to the Master Emerald's shrine, which has mysteriously been transported from the Chaos Chamber to become a small island floating in its own right at the edge of Angel Island (it's literally not explained at all how this happened, but I'm assuming it's Ian's creative license to once again make the world of the comics conform to that of the games a little more). They confront Finitevus, who merely states that even if he wanted to stop this, he couldn't by now, as the hex he put on the Master Emerald totally enslaved Knuckles' mind when he tried to tap into its power. He's uncertain about why the hex didn't affect Sonic when he transformed, but is mostly unconcerned, as his plans are proceeding regardless.

Finitevus, I don't think you understand one bit what actual heroes are like. Julie-Su and Archimedes immediately start arguing over which one of them will die in order to bring Knuckles back, with a baffled Finitevus looking on. Locke then rounds the corner, having arrived unseen, and announces that he, in fact, will sacrifice himself, finally regretting what he has brought on Knuckles with his actions in trying to protect him from the devastated future he foresaw. Finitevus, enraged, leaps forward to attack the three of them in an attempt to stop them, but Archimedes grabs onto him and poofs him away, leaving Julie-Su and Locke momentarily alone. Locke sadly looks down at Julie-Su, and explains that for all their extreme methods, in the end the Brotherhood really did love every single member, and only ever wanted the best for Knuckles. Julie-Su begins to cry as Locke takes his place atop the emerald, and begins reciting Tikal's prayer one last time.

Okay, I'm just gonna say it. As much as I genuinely liked Locke's deathbed scene in M25YL, I think this is a much better version of his death, narratively. It's also ten times more heartbreaking. The last time Knuckles ever spoke to his father, Locke hit him with a thinly-veiled threat to his family's safety, and Knuckles punched the screen and screamed at him in response. And now, without a chance to ever apologize or say goodbye, Locke is gone, having sacrificed his life to save his son. I have never doubted for a moment that Locke truly does love Knuckles and has always done everything with the best of intentions, which is precisely why I always felt he would make a better villain than a hero. The Sonic series, as much as I love it, is sorely lacking in three-dimensional villains, with most being either like Eggman - wanting to conquer the world - or Finitevus - wanting to watch it burn. Locke, as I've gone over before, would have been a fantastic antagonist. I think it very true that the best villains are the ones we can relate to in some way. Loving your child and wanting the best for them is very relatable to many people, and permanently messing up your child because of trying to do the best for them is a very real fear for the majority of parents. And Locke realizing this at the end of his life and then giving up said life for the sole purpose of undoing everything he helped to cause is the logical narrative conclusion of this character arc. Because of this, I think Ian ultimately writes Locke much better than did Kenders, despite Locke being based on Kenders' father (which is why I kind of feel bad even saying this, but eh, I've already made the argument that he should have been a villain, I don't think I can make it much worse from here). And as sad as this is, it just gets worse as Knuckles regains his right mind and returns to the ground, asking Julie-Su where his father is. Julie-Su merely starts sobbing and babbling incoherently about how she couldn't stop him, and just as horrible understanding begins to dawn on Knuckles, Finitevus returns through a warp ring, incensed that Locke stopped his plans after all. He yells that with his luck, Knuckles will even remember his time as Enerjak, to which Knuckles furiously replies that he remembers -

An exit fitting for one such as Finitevus. Julie-Su tentatively says that they should head back down to New Mobotropolis to let everyone know that the day's been saved, but Knuckles curtly cuts him off, refusing and claiming that as the last living Guardian of Angel Island, he's never leaving this island again, and he'll guard the Master Emerald alone for the rest of his life. And thus, we've finally come full circle. Knuckles started out as the lone Guardian of the island with no one else to help him, and now he's become such once again. Come on though, man, for real - your father sacrificed himself so you could have your own life free of the destiny he's forced on you, don't immediately try to isolate yourself!

Anything

Writer: Ian Flynn Pencils: Tracy Yardley! Colors: Stingray Grafik Wurks

Well, there's still one loose end we have yet to tie up - namely, the fate of the Dark Legion. While those who were happy to be free of their cybernetic trappings were transported to Albion, those who regret losing them have remained with Lien-Da, who now seeks the help of a mysterious figure to get her people's way of life back. Her speech is actually quite fascinating, because for basically the first time we actually get to see what a lifelong member of the Legion thinks of their own history, without immediately being made out to be a cackling evildoer. Turns out… their position is kind of reasonable.

I mean, I did just go over why Locke, and thus by extension the Brotherhood, are not really good people. I don't think they're evil - misguided, more like - but it's clear that in the end, extremism was the name of the game on both sides of the technology debate, and if anything both sides have only gotten more extreme over the past several hundred years. Ultimately, while the Dark Legion has absolutely employed some really messed up methods in their pursuit of their goals, their actual ideology is not unreasonable at all. In the end, they really were just a group of people who didn't want to tacitly accept being thrown back to the stone age by their government, and rebelled when said government - a literal theocracy, if you'll recall - created an entire goddamn task force operating outside of the normal legal system to try to drag them all into a world without technology regardless. I mean, literally, think about it right now - if your government, after a bad incident with one scientist going nuts and trying to seize power, in response decided to ban all technology and mandate that everyone had to regress back to a medieval lifestyle, how many of you reading this, right now, would just accept it and give everything up? And how many more of you would say "No way in hell is this okay" and join a revolution? Use technology in secret, rebel, fight for your right to live life as a modern human being with modern comforts? The Legion was twisted over time into a force that fought for all the wrong reasons, looking for power instead of freedom, but in the end, they were more wronged than anyone else in this whole debate, and absolutely had a right to be angry over the way they were mistreated.

Lien-Da, treacherous nature aside, clearly does believe in her people's way of life, and so she crafts a deal with her mysterious contact - if he makes her the Grandmaster of the Legion, a title which she feels she deserves after watching her late brother and the decrepit Dimitri take the reins before her, she'll join his cause and have her soldiers act as his new ground forces since his were destroyed by Enerjak. Gee, I wonder who this mysterious figure could be? Ah, what the hell am I acting all coy for, it's Eggman, naturally, and he's more than happy to accept this deal. However, to Lien-Da's incredulous disappointment, the position of Grandmaster has already been filled - by none other than Dimitri! Yeah, Eggman's given him some upgrades, turning his dreadlocks into bizarre tentacle-like appendages sticking out from his head bubble. Aw, yeah, Eggman, no need to give him a proper body or anything like that, just give him hair tentacles, it'll be fiiine!

[bigfan-fanfic]

Smile for the Camera (Batdad!Reader Headcanon)

Requested by @yesthetrashbin for Batdad!Reader kidnapped by the Joker for an extended period of time and the fam’s reactions

Beware - the Joker lies ahead. Gosh, that fellow makes me nervous...

AAAH! So sorry, just startled by the sight of my first GIF ever! Thanks for that suggestion, anon!

It wasn’t your fault. You did everything right.

There were guards out the wazoo at that gala. Everyone was on lookout for the Joker

But no one expected a simple-looking, un-makeup-ed man with credentials naming him Joseph Kerr to sneak into the gala and set off a smoke bomb with green-tinged smoke

By the time Batman and the others evacuate, you are missing.

Bruce goes to Gordon immediately, suspecting the Joker.

The Batfamily looks for you, getting the League to help, but even Clark can’t see or hear your voice.

And then a day turns into a week, then a week and a half. And after 264 hours, Tim screams.

He’s been watching his news feed. In a breaking story where Vicki Vale warns the viewers that the video is graphic and disturbing, you are on screen, tied to a chair, semi-conscious

You look horrible. Joker seems to have been torturing you the entire time. Your face is almost unrecognizably cut up and bloody, and your non-dominant hand seems to have been crushed by Harley’s hammer.

“Hell-ooooooo, Gotham! It’s your favorite person here with Y/N Wayne, Gotham’s greatest benefactor. I tip my hat to you, sir!”

Joker does an inane little bow and pats your shoulder. You don’t react. Tim seethes with rage

“But we’re not here to shoot the breeze! Batsy, I know you’re watching. Meet me at midnight precisely, or Gotham City might not be so chummy with you anymore for letting this guy die! Be there, or be square!”

And the feed cuts to black as the Joker digs his hand into one of your wounds and you scream bloody murder.

Bruce

Nothing else matters but you right now.

The public “Bruce Wayne” hasn’t been seen in days, enough time for the tabloids to speculate that he’s been seen meeting with the Bat to try and get you back

Clark writes a piece about a fake but touching interview where Bruce Wayne claims he’s trying to keep the family positive and pleads for the return of his husband

He hasn’t shaved, has barely eaten, and is completely focused on finding you.

He sees the video and figures immediately where the Joker is, but he forces himself into cold calculations - he can’t mess this up, or the Joker will kill you.

He gets everyone he possibly can to help. Diana, Clark, Ollie, Dinah, and Barry all volunteer, with the others taking care of their respective cities while they assist.

When it finally comes time, Barry super-speeds, undoing the traps and binds set on you and getting you to a hospital. The others proceed to make short work of the Joker.

Bruce stays in the hospital with you at all times, constantly holding your good hand, snarling at anyone who dares to ask him to consider moving or leaving

He cries unashamedly when you wake up - he was so afraid of losing you.

He won’t be overprotective afterwards, because he knows that even the greatest level of preparation can’t prevent everything bad, but he does ask you to stay in the Manor for a while, until he feels better about being apart from you.

I said he won’t be overprotective - but

You definitely have multiple trackers on you from now on.

Alfred

He’s been running on pure adrenaline this whole time

His first instinct in a crisis is to tell you how to serve as his second pair of hands, but he turns and remembers you aren’t there

He’s been trying to keep to your routine - making sure Damian and Tim sleep reasonably, keeping the peace between Jason and Bruce, helping Dick cope with life in general

Alfred’s got every hospital in Gotham standing by

He even considers calling in some old favors from his RAF days to have the Joker taken out

You and Bruce are like sons to him

And he no longer has any need for sleep when you are in danger

Afterwards he’s back to business

Although he does give you a warm “It’s good to have you back, sir”

He’s very formal

Because he wants to avoid triggering you with an emotional display

Because Alfred knows that you are the rock of the family, but he’s your rock

And he’ll be damned if you can’t depend on him for that.

If you are ever kidnapped again, he will call in those favors, hang Bruce’s “One Rule.”

Dick

Freaking out. To the point where he is unable to function

Bruce has been in mortal danger before, but the idea of losing you is unthinkable

He’s too distracted to assist in the search, so Bruce benches him.

Instead he’s tasked to look after Jason and Damian

He’s so worried, but he makes sure Damian sleeps

Even once lets the boy sleep in his bed

He makes sure Jason isn’t going to do anything rash

And he is merciless in his cheering-up tactics, taking a page out of your playbook

He constantly reassures them that you will be alright

That you need them to be good while you’re away

And that they will need to be on their best behavior when you get back

He’s so happy when you are saved.

He’s first to the hospital, and like Bruce, he refuses to leave your side.

Develops a bit of separation anxiety. He goes with you everywhere for the next several weeks.

One of the multiple trackers on you is his.

Jason

Filled with rage and fear.

Self-loathing, too. What if you get turned into something else like he did? What if they have to use a Lazarus Pit

He considers it, and he would do it

Anything other than letting you die

Dick keeps a tight watch on him

He knows he has to be a good person even when you aren’t there

He punches and fights hard, definitely maims, but doesn’t kill

Bruce benches him for your rescue

And he doesn’t want to disappoint you, so Jason allows it

He knows that he wouldn’t be able to stop himself killing the Joker.

When you’re back, he won’t know how to act.

He settles for hugging you often and being sarcastic a little less.

He’s just glad you’re safe, and back where you should be.

Tim

Probably handles it the best.

He’s been trawling through the Batcomputer’s data trying to find someplace where the Joker might be able to conceal you long-term

But the Joker doesn’t follow patterns, so this leads nowhere.

Tim basically shuts down his emotional side, focusing instead on cold hard facts, because if he didn’t, he might break

Tim might only show it when running on empty, but he loves and appreciates you as a parent every bit as much as the others. 

There are some truly unhealthy mixes of energy drinks and coffee made during this period. Tim has developed several twitches by the time you are found.

He’s not at the hospital because he’s practically comatose for a week, recovering from what appears to be a caffeine overdose.

Assumes it’s a dream when you’re released from the hospital

Breaks down crying when he learns it’s not, and nearly re-breaks your just-healed ribs hugging you

Is traumatized by the event, and will not leave you alone at a gala for months after.

Damian

Handles it the absolute worst.

He is lost without you there. He throws a massive anger fit, the aftermath of which includes swords embedded in walls with no possibility of removal.

Like Jason, Damian is benched too. Dick is given the job of watching over him, and the two share a moment when Damian allows himself to cry.

He cannot be alone, so he goes with Dick everywhere

When you wished he would act his age, you didn’t think it would be like this

He hasn’t felt this angry at someone since Talia tried to kill you.

He spends the first few days staring at pictures of all the stuff you’ve done together since he came to the Manor

And the next few days he spends watching the news carefully for anything involving the search for you.

He tries to focus by helping Alfred do the necessary chores - laundry, getting food.

He spends a lot of time with his animals, who can sense his pain and try to comfort him.

Trust me, when you get better, you’re gonna need to find him a puppy or some kind of baby animal to make him feel better.

When you wake up in the hospital, he has gone to get water for Dick and Bruce.  He may forever curse the ill timing, since he missed seeing you wake up

Damian will deny this, but he slept in yours and Bruce’s bed for the first few nights after you were cleared from the hospital, just to be sure that you’re still there.

Two of the trackers on you are Damian’s.

[ooxiebooxie]

“ 'Twas a long time ago, longer now than it seems in a place perhaps you've seen in your dreams. For the story you're about to be told began with the holiday worlds of auld. Now you've probably wondered where [ nightmares ] come from. If you haven't I'd say it's time you begun. “

BASIC INFORMATION.

What is your character’s full name?

Tim Page

How is it pronounced?

TIM  PAYJ

Is there a meaning behind it?

Tim is derived from the Greek Τιμοθεος ( Timotheos ) which translates into “ honouring God “. His parents chose the name for their son, naming him after his great grandfather who was known for his compassion heart. Page is also derived from a Greek word παιδιον ( paidion ) with the meaning “ little boy “. The name is an occupational name meaning " servant / page " — and thus we do not need to ask question why Oogie chose to change his name.

Does your character have any nicknames?

Oogie Boogie. Oogie. Mr Oogie Boogie Man. Meanest Guy.

When and where were they born?

Tim Page was born on the nineteenth of april in nineteen-seventytwo in the town of Carthay.

What’s their zodiac sign and what traits do they most relate to?

Aries rules the head and leads with the head, often literally walking head first, leaning forwards for speed and focus. Its representatives are naturally brave and rarely afraid of trial and risk. They possess youthful strength and energy, regardless of their age and quickly perform any given tasks. Aries is one of the most active zodiac signs. It is in their nature to take action, sometimes before they think about it well. Their challenges show when they get impatient, aggressive and vent anger pointing it to other people.

What’s their nationality?

American – but that depends entirely on which paper he chooses to show authority to identify himself. He has several. Sometimes you just need to be a different person, when your name and the stories strung to it travel faster than you.

What’s their occupation?

Being a winning gambler. 

What gender do they identify themselves as?

Male.

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE.

What’s their eye color?

Dark brown, appearing to be black.

Do they wear glasses or contacts?

Neither.

Hair color?

Black, although depending on the light it can appear to have a hint of dark brown in them.

Have they ever dyed their hair or wanted to?

In the young age of seven Tim has been obsessed with the colour green and wanted to dye his hair a bright neon colour ( maybe add some purple streaks for additional fun ) but fortunately, it was one of the things his parents did not allow their son to do. 

Height?

179cm ( back at it again, being European and this time lazy )

Body build?

Surprisingly slim considering his messed up lifestyle. 

Do they have any birthmarks?

No.

Do they have any piercings or tattoos?

It is no secret Oogie is as much a gambler at heart as a person could be, and thus it should not come as a surprise that his obsession has gone under his skin too. He has a tattoo ( that keeps getting added onto ) which proudly display his undying love for games, gambling and most importantly, winning. His tattoos tell a story and if you understand the language, you might just learn what ( or who? ) he has won too.

If not, do they want to get some?

Now let me tell you something about Oogie Boogie: He’ll never stop playing, and as long as there’s the chance to win he will take it, and thus more tattoos are to come.

Do they have a healthy life style?

No. His life is about as healthy as his shack is clean — his nights are too long, gambling always combined with alcohol and cigars, his days survived on coffee and cigarettes, his kitchen is used but only to stock the take-out containers in and literally lives among bugs — but honestly what do you expect? Oogie doesn’t have the time to have a healthy life. He is a busy man.

How easy do they get sick?

Let’s just say Oogie is lucky that he spends most of his time at the casino, because if he was to spend it in his shack between all the filth and his beloved bug collection he sure would get sick a lot more often.

Any marks on their body ( injuries, … )?

If you mess with the wrong people, you are bound to have some nasty scars. Oogie has several faint ones scattered across his knuckles though they are barely visible. The worst ones are those who needed stitches — if he takes off his jacket you can still see the messily stitched ( because there were times he just hadn’t been able to go to the hospital, knowing they would ask tooo man question ) scars on his arms especially, but his back and chest too.

What’s their personal style/how do they like to dress?

Comfortable but fitting clothing. His trusted black leather jacket is something he basically does not leave the house without, and the rest of his clothing is too rather dark in colour ( the only bit of colour he owns is in form of plaids ). Important to notice is that every piece of clothing is ridiculously expensive — that white t-shirt you see him wearing? Yeah, that was about 400 bucks. Now, you might wonder why Oogie of all people would waste so much money on ordinary looking clothing, but what can I say other than that he just really hates loose threads.

What is their favorite and least favorite feature about themselves?

His skills, and though this might not be a physical feature, it’s the one answer you will get from Oogie about his favourite thing about himself: He is proud to call himself a winner, one who does not need to rely on ‘ luck ‘ but can rely entirely on himself. His least favourite is a weakness and thus shall never be revealed — after all, a gambler never lets his pokerface slip.

PERSONALITY.

Positive traits?

Ambitious, Analytical, Attantive, Bold, Brilliant, Cautious, Confident, Determined, Devote, Efficient, Eloquent, Hard-Working, Intelligent, Inventive, Logical, Mature, Observant, Persistent, Proud, Punctual, Reliable, Strategic, Strong, Succesful, Tough

Negative traits?

Angr, Annoyed, Argumentative, Bad, Bossy, Cold-Hearted, Critical, Cruel, Cunning, Dangerous, Dark, Devious, Dishonest, Facetious, Greedy, Harssh, Hot-Tempered, Ignorant, Impatient, Lackadaisical, Lazy, Manipulative, Sadistic, Scheming, Self-Centered, Unforgiving, Violent

What do they consider to be the best and the worst part of their personality?

The best part is hands down his determination. For all the ‘ evil ‘ character traits Oogie’s determination is actually the most dangerous one, because the moment he sets his mind onto something, he doesn’t let go off it until it is his. He strongly believes there’s always a way — it has been proven to him nurmerous time by himself, and if that’s not trustworthy, what is? — to get what he want; you just have to set the stakes straight. His worst trait is the inconsideration, or rather, it has the worst impact on others ( which needless to say, makes Oogie fine with this trait too. Why would he care about others, right? ) but while he thinks everything through on a logical level, the lack of considering he does of the effect on others can get him into trouble. 

Are they more extroverted or introverted?

Extroverted.

Any talents?

Winning, and if you say that it is no talent, ( Oogie would first of all like you to know you are wrong, but fine ) it’s knowing how not to take chances when gambling. He can read other people’s face, can figure out if they are bluffing, can make the maths in his head to know what his, his opponent’s and the cards still remaining in the deck say — and if he can’t, he always knows how to turn the game so he’s the one to win with a little cheat or two. 

What are their fears?

Unravelling — not his clothes, of course, but the web of lies and cheats and crimes he’s built over the years of gambling with the worst of people. They are all secret, and though he is known to be a gambler across town and there are horror stories being shared at night in the darkest of alleys, they are all just that: stories. There’s no proof, his slate is still clean — unless, of course, the carefully crafted web starts to unravel and truth begins to spill.

Do they have any phobias?

No.

What is their soft spot?

Hidden behind a pokerface.

List 3 pet-peeves they can’t stand?

People believing in luck, talkativeness and optimism.

EDUCATION.

How far did they go in school? Are they still studying?

Tim successfully graduated from college with one hell of a good degree, always having given his best at any sort of school. He could’ve easily gone further and he’d already scored a solid and high-paying job, but unfortunately, he won a game in the casino then and everything changed.

Did they like school?

Tim was thrilled about school, glad to have the opportunity to learn new things ( admittedly, some of them were boring, but you have to do what you have to do, right? ) and even on the most annoying days, he had his group of long time friends to make any situation a billion times better.

What type of student are/were they?

In every school there are these type of students who somehow manage to get good grades no matter what, and Tim Page was one of them. One might call it luck ( even Tim did back then ), but the truth is that in his case anyway, Tim was just attentive. He listened in class, worked on the tasks which were given to him and though he did not sit down with a book and learn after school, he was focused enough inside of class to understand and remember what he’d been taught later during an exam. 

What was their favorite subject?

Math. It was the one class which made the most sense to Tim, which made sense everywhere around the world too. For that reason alone it came easy to him, and thank god that it did, because card counting is a lot easier if you know what the fuck you’re doing.

And their least favorite?

English, because he always found writing interpretation was stupid, because how would anyone ever know what the author of some long-outdated literature piece tried to say when they were long dead? It’s not like lying on paper is hard. The only way Tim survived the endless hours he wasted on writing essays was by making his interpretations as ridiculous as one could get. 

What were they/would they have been voted as “ most likely to… ” in the yearbook?

Most likely to suceed.

FAMILY.

Who are your character’s parents?

Belinda and Dunstan Page.

How would your character describe them?

Oogie Boogie would not waste a single breath on them, but they had always been kind and in the time Oogie was still their son, when he was still Tim Page they were the best parents he could’ve ever wished for, supportive and kind, loving him with all of their heart and without any conditions. 

Do they have any siblings?

No.

Are they close with their family?

Tim has always been close to his family, his heart staying close at home wherever he went and if he ever left them for long he made sure give them a call and check up on them. However, time changes everything and when Tim changed into Oogie Boogie so did his relationship with his parents. He didn’t give a shit about them anymore, too distracted by the constant need to win, and when they moved away he barely noticed and did not hear of them again until he found the invitation to their funeral in his letter boy. Needless to say, he did not go. 

ROMANCE & SEXUALITY.

What’s their romantic and sexual orientation?

Bisexual with a preference towards females, and he’s Oogie Boogie, he doesn’t have romantic emotions ( that we know of, anyway ).

Are they seeing anyone right now?

No.

Have they ever been in an relationship?

Yes, there have been several relationships in the course of his life, but none of them were particularly seriouss.

Have they ever been in love?

Yes. He was seventeen when he met her, and it took him not more than a few spoken words until he was head over heels in love with her. There just was something special about her, something that no one had ever had. After going on a couple of dates, their relationship began and their love has been growing ever since — until it ended, of course, like all of his connections did when Tim turned into Oogie.

How easy do they fall for someone?

It’s the toughest task in the world to get through to him and have him even notice you as a potential love interest, therefore not easy at all.

What do they look for in someone?

He doesn’t look for anyone. However, if he did he’d want someone who supports him, who joins his gambling and who he can rely on when they learn what exactly he has been gambling with.

Do they believe in love at first sight? or fate?

Definitely not. Neither exists. You’ve got to take matters into your own hands.

What’s their views on romance? Do they go after it or avoid it?

Oogie doesn’t care. In fact, he’s convinced romance in that sense doesn’t even exist. 

Did they have their first time already? How was it in their point of view?

Yes, and truth be told, it’s been so long Oogie hardly remembers it, but it was with the girl he was in love with... so probably awkward and sweet? who cares?

What is their view on sex?

It's the best part of any relationship he ever had and the only reason why he pities not having a significant other, because it means he can’t just come home to someone and share the joy and enthusiasm that comes with winning with someone... in his bed. 

What are their turn ons and turn offs?

Power is the biggest turn on. One might say winners like the companies of winners, and it could not be truer for Oogie. There’s just something about a person being able to meet you on a similiar level that makes them attractive. On the other side, he hates stuidity and he finds it comes in the most various of traits, making most people nothing but exhausting to him. 

Were they ever cheated on or have they cheated on someone?

He has never been cheated on, but he has definitely cheated. He is Oogie Boogie. The real question is who he hasn’t cheated on.

Do they want to get married in the future?

Hell to the no.

Have kids?

The greatest joy in the world is to have children, and let me tell you a little secret about Oogie: He absolutely does not agree. He has three little minions and they are already enough to handle, plus he can actually hate them and mistreat them without having to feel upset about ruining his own flesh and blood. The real joy in life is winning.

QUIRKS.

Are they right or left handed?

Right Handed.

What’s a word that’s always on their lips?

The name Lock, Shock or Barrel angrily being yelled.

Is there a saying they keep on repeating?

Not a phrase, but he does hum his ‘ Oogie Boogie Song ‘ all the time — that being said, make sure he never sings the lyrics around you for it’s never a good omen if he gets to the line ‘ this may be the last time you hear the oogie boogie song ‘.

Do they curse?

He definitely does. There are times which just need a little bit ( or a lot ) of cursing.

What’s their worst habit?

Spending his money. No matter how often you see him walk out of the casino with a thousand of dollars in his bags, you’ll never see him keep it for longer than a day. Either he pays his debts to the Fates, he spends it on his beloved bugs or he walks right back into the casino to wager it all again.

Do they drink or smoke? How frequently?

He drinks and he smokes cigarettes and cigars at least every week, if not every day.

Are they an early bird or a night owl?

Night owl, because the unfortunate thing about casinos is that they are rarely opened in the normal day to day hours. Oogie wastes his night completely in there, spends his early mornings in a coffee shop of his choice and sleeps the rest of the day away until he can finally go gambling again.

How tidy is their room?

His entire shack is a complete mess and though Oogie recnogises it as one, he does not give a care in the world about it. His belongings are piling all over the floor, his kitchen is filled with the containers of the many take-outs he’s ordered in and is that... a bone? Honestly, at this point you can find almost anything in there.

How long do they usually take getting ready in the morning?

Fifteen minutes tops. His mornings usually include him going into the shower, brushing his teeth and leaving the house a moment later. That being said, his mornings are rarely happening in the morning and more so in the late evenings.

FAVORITES.

What’s their favorite color?

Now, you might think his favourite colour is black because everything he owns and loves seems to be black, but while everything about Tim Page changed when he became Oogie Boogie one thing didn’t: His favourite colour is green, always has and always will be.

Favorite movie?

' Fight Club ‘ because it’s kind of a fucked up movie, isn’t it? and at the same time it is really interesting, allowing a look into the minds of others and how a group ( a colony, one might say ) can work together and create something purely brutal. Oogie always thought in a way they are gambling too.

Music Genre?

Rock’n’Roll.

Food?

Anything that comes per delivery.

Book?

' It ‘ by Stephen King.

Favorite non-alcoholic drink?

Ground black Coffee.

Ice Cream Flavor?

Dark Chocolate.

Indoors or outdoors?

Indoors.

[imagines-corner]

Control: Stiles Stilinski

requested: by anonymous

pairing: Stiles Stilinski x Reader

word count: 1.7k

warnings: a battle for psychological control?

summary: Song Imagine - Control by Halsey

a/n: Thank you for being patient, pals! School/work have been so much fun, but very time consuming. As always, my inbox is open!!

They send me away to find them a fortune

A chest filled with diamonds and gold

The house was awake

With shadows and monsters

The hallways they echoed and groaned…

You sat up in your bed, your heart racing in your chest as you looked around the darkness of your room. You had been startled awake by something, someone, in your dream, screaming so loud it left a ringing in your ears as you woke. It felt real.

After quickly scanning the room, you pushed yourself back under the covers, trying to ignore the fact that you didn’t really feel alone. You had felt like this for days, possibly even weeks, your skin crawling with desperation for sleep that wouldn’t come. When it did, you were plagued with nightmares so vivid you almost decided to stop sleeping for good.

As you lied in bed, staring up at the cloudy stars through your bedroom window, you heard a creak in the hallway. Your ears perked, but you couldn’t pick up any more noise.

Just try to sleep, You told yourself, Get some sleep.

I sat alone, in bed 'til the morning

I'm crying, "They're coming for me."

And I tried to hold these secrets inside me

My mind's like a deadly disease…

Sleep never came.

You watched the clock by your bed tick by, minute by minute, as you tried to force you active mind into a sleepy state. It felt like days went by within hours, but soon, the sun began to peek up from over the horizon, and you decided it was early enough to be awake.

“How’d you sleep?” Your mom yawned, standing by the working coffee pot. She looked well rested, but no amount of sleep could prevent her from getting some sort of caffeine in the morning.

“Fine,” You lied, not willing to tell your mother what was going on. If she knew, she would worry - and her worrying was not what you needed to get sleep.

As you prepared yourself for another day of school, you felt fatigued. Your muscles ached with every movement, begging for time to rest and revive, while your mind was unable to focus on basic tasks. Even holding a pencil was more work for you than you thought you could handle, let alone paying attention through all of your classes.

“Are you okay?” Stiles asked, “You look exhausted.”

“I am exhausted,” You yawned, leaning against the locker, “I didn’t get much sleep last night.”

“This has been happening a lot lately, hasn’t it?” Stiles asked, closing his locker door to look at you. You could barely look at him, partially from your exhaustion and partly from the concern that took over his face. “What’s going on, (Y/N)?”

“I don’t know,” You sighed, “I just… Every time I sleep, I have these intense nightmares. And every time I try to sleep, my body just… can’t.”

Stiles nodded, wrapping his arm around your shoulder to pull you in closer to his chest as the two of you walked down the emptying hallways. “You’re not doing anything after class today, right?”

“No,” You replied, “I don’t have the capacity to do anything.”

“Come over to my place,” Stiles begged, “Maybe I can help.”

I'm bigger than my body

I'm colder than this home

I'm meaner than my demons

I'm bigger than these bones…

As you lied down on Stiles’s couch, enveloping yourself with several blankets, you tried to think of things that would prevent your nightmares.

Think of Stiles.

He sat across from you, in a big armchair that almost looked too big for him. He was clearly trying not to look concerned, burying himself in homework so that he could distract himself from the matter at hand - you.

“Comfortable?” He asked, looking up and smiling at you weakly.

“Very,” You replied, your eyelids heavy. You knew, though, that you still weren’t going to sleep. You looked over at him, watching as his fingers curved around the page of his calculus textbook, lifting it delicately before turning. “Are you busy?” “Not for you,” Stiles replied, closing his book quickly, “What d’you need?”

You pursed your lips before speaking. “Can you… can you come cuddle me?”

Stiles smiled, this time genuinely. He placed his book on the chair as he stood, crossing the room to lie beside you. You moved forward a bit, lifting the blanket so he could climb behind you and add to the warmth and comfort of your makeshift bed. Once he was comfortable, he wrapped one arm around you and the blankets that covered your waist, while his other hand acted as a pillow for the two of you.

“Better?” He whispered, kissing you behind the ear lightly.

You were too deep in your sleep to even respond.

And all the kids cried out,

"Please stop, you're scaring me."

I can't help this awful energy

Goddamn right, you should be scared of me

Who is in control?

You stood in a room. It was dark at first, but as your eyes adjusted to the change in environment you realized it wasn’t as dark as you had first believed it to be. There was light in the distance, coming from behind a door that stood several yards in front of you. It practically begged you to come release it into the room, revealing exactly what was hiding in the darkness that surrounded you.

You took a step forward, resisting the urge to turn around and look behind you, farther into the darkness.

There was a hissing in your ear as you moved closer to the door, almost demanding that you come back to it. The darkness seemed to be alive, demanding your presence as sustenance.

It was starving.

“Come back,” It whispered, “Come to me.”

You felt your feet stop, though you willed them to continue. The door was only a bit more than an arm’s reach away.

“Come back,” It begged, “Come back to me.”

“No,” You replied, “I’m not going back.”

A cool breeze brushed against your bare skin, sending shivers up and down your spine that clung to your bones. Was it snowing?

“Look at me,” It spoke, “Remember me.”

“No,” You resisted, “No!”

A freezing hand wrapped around your wrist, pulling you closer to the darkness and farther from your freedom. It demanded you know its face, know its motives, know its wishes…

You screamed.

But this time, your surroundings stayed dark.

I paced around for hours on empty

I jumped at the slightest of sounds

And I couldn't stand the person inside me

I turned all the mirrors around…

“(Y/N)?” Stiles asked, watching as you sat up from your spot on the couch. Your back was to him, a silhouette created from the light of the television filling the dark room.

You turned around, but Stiles could immediately tell something was wrong. It was no longer you in control of your body, but something much, much worse.

“Think again,” Your lips smirked, startling Stiles. His heart was racing in his chest, causing the being that had taken over your body to feel more powerful. It lived for these moments.

And I've grown familiar

With villains that live in my head

They beg me to write them

So I'll never die when I'm dead…

Everything was dark around you, save for the small bit of light in the distance that you knew was the door. It was freezing in the darkness, your limbs recoiling towards your body to try (and fail) to retain whatever warmth you had left. You knew if there was enough light, you would be able to see your breath, and your fingers would definitely be a deep purple by now. You were surprised you hadn’t died of hypothermia yet, but maybe this was just the beginning of that.

More than this cold, though, you felt helpless. You were suddenly trapped in your nightmare, unsure of how to get out and how to fight this monster - the Nogitsune, as you now knew it. It had complete control over your body at this point, shoving you out of the picture. You knew you needed to regain control, finding a way to push through this pain and hopelessness in order to warn everyone of what was to come. Now that you and the Nogitsune shared a body, you knew its plans, and you knew that it meant your friends were in danger.

It meant Stiles was in danger.

“I’m coming,” You shivered, pushing yourself off the cold ground, “I’m coming for you.” You gritted your teeth, trying to focus on anything but the pain that radiated through your bones from the frostbite. You couldn’t walk at this point, only crawl, but any distance you closed between you and this door meant something. Even if this door wasn’t the answer, it was the beginning.

I'm bigger than my body

I'm colder than this home

I'm meaner than my demons

I'm bigger than these bones…

As you crawled closer and closer, you felt the warmth of the door radiating into the space around you. Your fingers ached from this newfound warmth, stiff from the early stages of thawing. You were almost there, almost ready to push through and warn everyone.

There was a foot between you and the door. The handle seemed to stretch upwards for quite the distance, forcing you to push yourself off the ground and wrap your fingers around it. The metal burned beneath your hands, but it felt like nothing compared to the burn from your freezing limbs.

You pushed the door open, revealing a bright room.

Goddamn right, you should be scared of me

Who is in control…

You gasped in, finally able to breathe in this body you knew as your own. You stumbled forward, realizing you were standing instead of sitting on the couch, now in Scott’s living room instead of Stiles’s. Everyone around you looked terrified, especially Stiles, who lunged forward to prevent you from falling and hitting your head.

“Stiles,” You breathed, struggling to find air, “You need to run.”

And then, you leaned forward, gauze pouring from your body and onto the ground in a heap. Even though your mind was finally free from this dark being, you knew it meant so much more for Beacon Hills.

The Nogitsune was free to do as it pleased.

[starsandsupernovae]

Silk and Shadow

Summary: Peter is dead(?), someone has to take the spidersuit. Enter Michelle Jones Ships: spideychelle A/N: basically i wrote this, but i have a lot i need to write before I continue and idk if people would even like this enough for me to, so if you do want more, like, reblog, comment, something to let me know and I’ll write more after i’m done writing what I have to do!

Michelle folded her arms over her chest. “Yes, I’m fine, completely fine. I barely even knew him.” she spoke into her phone. “No of course I’m sad. I’m not completely numb to the world.” she let out a small bitter laugh. “Yeah, ok fine I’ll see you tonight, coming home for thanksgiving weekend, Mom, I gotta go, I have class now. It’s not like high school, now I actually need to attend the classes to do well.” She hung up, stabbing the ‘end call’ button with her finger.

Of course I’m sad.

She should be sad. It was the proper response after all, the effect after the cause. She could picture it written down properly as a fact- ‘if someone known to 

a person dies, then the person will be sad’. But if she had to confront the one thing pervading her mind ever since she had heard the news, not even directly, overheard from two students whispering in hushed voices glancing her way, if she had to identify the lead in the pit of her stomach that hit her as they explained, pity in their eyes, it wasn’t sorrow.

It was anger.

She wasn’t sure at whom she was angry, but the rage filled her nevertheless at the sheer stupidity of it, of the idiocy of how things had happened. Of how one day he was there in front of her, talking about something with some other guy, running a hand through his already messed up brown hair, eyes bright and vibrant, laugh ringing out loud and alive, and the next he was gone. No not ‘gone’. Michelle refused to let her mind do that, make it sound better than it was, like everyone kept saying, as though he was just ‘gone’ for the weekend. He was dead. And he was never coming back.

She kept walking down the path, kicking a loose stone ahead of her, letting her hair fall into her face. She did have class now, about that she had not lied, but that wasn’t where she was heading. She had planned to go back to her own room, but a quick glance in, enough to see her perpetually perky roommate sitting on the bed with two of her friends, confirmed that she needed to look elsewhere for some proper alone time. She made her way back to the back of the building, her mind flitting back to the only person who had found her there, poking his head in with that stupid smile appearing as he saw her.

“What’re you doing here?” She had asked.

“You left your book behind.” He had held it out, and she had taken it, both of them standing awkwardly, not exactly knowing what to say. They had become friends over the senior year, and, the rage faded a bit as she remembered at the end of their final decathlon, the thrill of the win and the grin that spanned his entire face prompting her to pull him towards her, and kiss him. But then….life had happened, and they both agreed that they didn’t want to go to college in a relationship, it didn’t make sense, it wouldn’t work out. Michelle had made half these arguments herself, they were right, they were logical, and she hated them. They were still friends, but over the months they had drifted, him finding new friends and her finding a group of people she could tolerate being around. But she had still kept track of him, in the back of her mind, seeing him out of the corner of her mind. And now she wouldn’t even be doing that. The rage came back full force, an ice cold streak of raw anger, that this should happen, that the life of a nineteen year old kid who was kind of awkward, kind of funny, very smart, very kind, very- very him should end this way. A car accident they had said. Some driver didn’t see the sign, someone had the wrong signal, someone had screwed up, and this was the consequence. And it was just stupid.

She turned to leave, unable to stay in one place, filled with an energy she couldn’t contain when something caught her eye, the tail of knapsack trailing out from under some pipes. She didn’t know why she did it, why she picked up the bag, why she had unzipped it to reveal the red and black suit inside. She didn’t know why she pulled it out, why she looked on the bottom of the bag where she saw a small label, fallen off from something else with the initials P.P. She knew she should put it back. She should leave it and walk away. The rage thundered through her as she held the suit, the owner of which she now knew would never be coming back. In a split second decision, she took hold of the lightning coursing through her veins and compressed it tightly, hiding it away, where she knew it would only grow, where she would have to let it out later, grabbed the suit stuffed it back into the knapsack and left, back to her room, now empty, the girls having to actually go to class. She crossed to her desk, drawing out the suit and let her eyes rove over the surface, turning it inside out and admiring it despite herself. It was more than just multi colored textiles, that much was clear. She found the places where it could be connected to a computer, found the different pockets, the different equipment holders, and just stared for several minutes before putting it back into the bag and crossing to the larger bag she had packed for the weekend. She was going to need more space.

She spent the four hour ride on her laptop, wires trailing into her bag where she kept the suit just under the zippered surface, going through the coding within. The deeper she went the more she realized she needed to get out, this was stark level coding right there, but she felt no fear as to what would happen if she got caught, just a mild annoyance at having to bypass so many barriers to disable communication, security and tracking, the lead in her stomach still present, and still bottled up tightly but ever growing rage in her mind.

She went through the motions of coming home mechanically, the hugs the ‘how are you’s until she was finally alone in her room, with the suit. She took it out gingerly, and, as though watching someone else, a stranger in her body, she donned it, before pressing the spider emblem on her chest, feeling it conform to her body, and the AI come online.

“Peter Parker, welcome b-” the smooth female voice began before cutting off.

“Yeah.” Michelle muttered. “Not Peter. He’s not wearing this anymore.”

“I’m sorry, would you care to tell me your name?”

Michelle paused before giving the name she had stopped going by after high school, the one that now nobody called her.

“MJ”

“Hello MJ. Welcome to the spidersuit! I am Karen. Would you like to view the tutorial?”

“Yes.” Michelle answered immediately, determined to learn all she could, sitting through Karen explaining how it worked and how, in fact, it could help her, not be spiderman of course, she didn’t possess the athletic skill, but maybe, she thought, she didn’t need to. Karen finished the tutorial with-”And of course Peter has experience, you can talk with him if you have further questions.”

“Peter’s gone.” She hated saying it, and realised, talking to a computer she could just spit it out. “Peter’s dead.”

There was a moment of silence.

“I’m sorry.” Michelle added.

“There is no reason to be sorry. I am a computer. I do not express any emotions. I only work and fulfill my tasks.”

Michelle opened the window of her bedroom and slid out, the suit’s adhesive’s letting her climb down the wall.

“Allright. Let’s work.”

[nervouswreck-96]

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.

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.

[play-these-heavens-one-more-time]

I started listening to what has been known as “the Seattle scene/sound” nearly 13 years ago, when I was 14. I was an unpopular, unhappy, lonely little person with more doubts about life than anything else. A couple of months later that year, I was forced to jump on the ordinary timeline of life and I became an “adult” version of myself when I was still essentially just a kid. All of this happening at the same time that all the adults in my life started to behave more like spoiled little children than I’ve ever seen them. Were they always like this and I was just beginning to see it? Or did something happen that turned everyone into such a crappy version of themselves?

The thing is that I found myself in this very complex position, in this weird awful environment where everyone hated each other, where everyone thought they were right… where everyone thought they could do whatever the fuck they wanted without thinking of the consequences behind…. Consequences that most of the time had to do with like… their daughter, for example.

I felt guilty for everything that was going on… not because I was actually guilty, but apparently that’s how kids who have been through a traumatic situation end up feeling. I felt so bad that I made a deal with myself that I was never gonna be a problem to anyone “anymore”… and to do that I had only two choices…. I could disappear in front of everyone’s eyes by making myself smaller, quieter, to the point where I would stop talking and eating. Locking myself in my room but still doing everything that I had to do so nobody would notice that I wasn’t there…. I thought that if I didn’t do one of my tasks at home or that if I failed a class or if I brought any problem home, people would actually pay attention to me which would ruin my plan of disappearing…. I had to keep all things as normal as possible so that they wouldn’t miss me or see me. In my mind, this was a perfect plan… because the other option was to kill myself. Which I actually considered several times but I never got the nerve to do it… I’m too scared of physical pain.

So, I decided to go on with plan A, which turned out to be actually easy? which at the same time made me realize how forgettable I was, how replaceable that I could actually dissapear and no one missed me, so easy to take for granted, so easy to be left out of the picture, so easy to be left alone, so easy to just… forget that I was there, feeling, living…. Growing up.

It was also during this time of confusion that I made another pact with myself: I would NEVER become someone remotely similar to any member of my family. I wished nothing more than being the complete opposite to whatever the hell they were (and still are). But then I realized that I had no one to look up to, no adults I could possibly admire, no one I could trust, nobody was honest enough to win my loyalty, everyone seemed so fake, always trying to look like they were something more than the pile of shit they actually were, everyone pretending to have it together, but actually being just another crazy motherfucker doing nothing to be better...  That was the time when I found this group of artists… who, after a long time of me feeling completely lost, gave me some kind of direction… they basically showed me that art was the answer. That I could find truth in music and books. That I didn’t need people in “real life” when I could immerse myself in “their” world, which by the way, seemed so achievable for me. It was like I didn’t even have to try… it was like finding home, my real home. I didn’t need to buy new clothes to follow a trend, I didn’t have to “look” differently from what I did because they were dressed just like me.

Remember what Eddie said when he met Neil Young? Like he finally had an adult in his life to live by example, someone he could actually look up to, after some crazy adults in his life he finally had someone who inspired him. Well, for me, that was “them”.

And the music…  oh my god, the music… it was so pure, so raw, so honest… a word that for a long time seemed like a utopia, I found truth in their sound. I didn’t fully understand their language (I didn’t know much English then) but I knew that they were singing about something familiar, I could feel it, in their voices, in their guitars, in that sound… it felt like the kind of sound I would make if I only knew how.

That was when I “met” Kurdt, Krist, Dave, Eddie, Stone, Jeff, Mike,Andy, Chris, Matt, Jerry, Layne, Kim, Jennifer, Donita, Kathleen, and all these bands, from green river, to bikini kill, and l7 and 7 year bitch and nirvana and pearl jam, and soundgarden and mlb, and alice in chains and stp and every single one of them… I knew all of them. With time I started listening to more and more bands and my music taste began to expand and I’m really grateful for that. It was all because of them. They were the ones who started all for me. Every single band that I listen to right now, in some way I can connect it to one in this group of musicians. It wasn’t long until they became my friends. My only friends. I was so lost into their music and the music they brought to my ears that I didn’t have any interest in meeting new people. And nobody wanted to be my friend either… nobody listened to this music like I did, nobody cared about music like I did. No one. Then I got into college and even though I met people who are huge music fans, they didn’t listen to these bands either. Which only made me reinforce my position. I was there to represent them.

I’ve thought about giving up several times since that first ultimatum… I’ve wanted to choose plan b and actually disappear from this earth and a couple of times I’ve been really close. But I’ve always found comfort and company in their music. I always knew I could count on them. ALWAYS. They were always there to make me laugh and to hold me whenever I’ve fallen down. They’ve always been there to help me put myself back together every time my life has broken into little pieces. And that’s why it hurts so bad right now. That’s why it doesn’t make any sense to me that they’re dying. It broke my heart when Scott died, and now… I just have no words to express how much this affects me. Chris for fuck’s sake. It’s just too fucking close to my heart. It’s fucking family to me.

I know that most people here recognize me as a red hot chili peppers / john frusciante fan, which I am. But before them… there were these guys. It if wasn’t for this group of people, maybe I would’ve never had the chance to hear the chili peppers in the first place.

My history with them comes way before I even knew how the internet works. I would walk for hours and wait for hours just to make a copy of someone else’s cd because I didn’t have any money to buy an original one.

I would talk to people just so they would let me see their albums and their old magazines… it was the only way I could learn something about them. I would ask that classmate of mine, who I barely talked to if she could ask his brother to ask his friend for that nirvana dvd she said she had seen once… that if she could ask him to make a copy for me…

I stole posters of nirvana from other people’s garbage bins.

I have pearl jam’s t shirts that are older than you that I bought in the flea market 10 years ago and that were already ripped.

I have tapes from radio shows that are 12 years old, with interviews of chirs and layne and kurtd. Sometimes they would play some bits of documentaries and I was there, next to my crappy cassette player ready to record everything and then learn their answers by heart, taking notes of every artist or band they would mention.

That’s the real me.

That’s the person I’ve been for most part of my life.

And that is why every time I feel lost I go back to listen to them because that’s where I find myself. I find that real me.

I’ll turned 27 in a couple months and I’m still that person. I still see them as my family and friends. Mainly because I still haven’t been able to make “real” friends. And because I still hate the way the members of my family are. I still disagree with their opinions and I still don’t want to relate to what they think or what they are.

There was a time in my life where my boss couldn’t remember my actual name so she started calling me “Nirvana” because according to her “I see you and I think about nirvana, that’s you as a person”. She did that for as long as I worked there which was about a year (then she killed herself… by hanging).

I started writing this because I feel like I need to start putting the pieces back together… my life was brutally shaken that night when the news about Chris came out. I feel like they took a piece of my life without permission and I want it back because I’m scared I can’t live without it… that part that has been with me for so long… that was a milestone in the formation of this adult version of myself that I had to create 13 years ago… He was there… and I don’t know how to let him go…

I stopped talking to people for the last couple of days because I needed to think about this… My mind has been busy trying to put the puzzle back together, trying to make sense out of it and no one here would be able to understand any of this. First of all because they don’t know what is like to be this emotionally attached to an artist or band and second because they don’t care. They don’t think it’s that important. And I don’t have the time or energy to make them understand, to explain something that you just have to experience. There’s no other way. I can’t tell them to imagine their lives without friends or parents and then find a group of people who 30 years ago made this music that became your lifestyle, your home.

I don’t really care if nobody reads this, I just needed to write it down so I could understand it myself.

And I wanted to say THANK YOU, to Chris, to Soundgarden, to Temple of the Dog, for helping me so many times. For being with me through all these years. For giving me hope. For making me feel like I belonged somewhere. For making me feel like you were a friend. I love you Chris. I really hope you find peace. And that your soul is resting in a nice place… I will never forget you and what you did for me. And every time I think of you I see you smiling at me and that gives me a little peace in these times of trouble…

All of this happening at a very low point in my life… maybe it was a coincidence, maybe it wasn’t… I’m feeling lost and vulnerable again. And it’s scary because the last time I felt like this I almost didn’t make it… and it took a lot of time and work to put myself back together… just to stand up and walk out of my room… I’m not really sure how I got here or how I’m supposed to get out again, but I know I’ll be listening to you, to all these bands just like I always do.

thanks for everything that you did for me in this life, i will miss you every day.

[wlwidow]

Shamsi (Ch. 3 & 4)

A Pharmercy fic with bonus Mercymaker, Gabe Angst, and the Talon Trio

Summary: Captured by Talon, Mercy reluctantly cooperates and shares her knowledge with them to keep Pharah safe. But there’s more than one familiar face hidden in the shadows, and old loyalties collide with new motives as they try to figure out who they can trust, and how they can get out alive.

Or, Angela tries to save Fareeha, Gabe, and Amélie but forgets to save herself.

These chapters features~ Pharah and Gabe + the first taste of Mercymaker

[Ch. 1] [Ch. 2] [Read on AO3]

CH. 3

(they were short so I’m posting them together ur welcome)

Fareeha hadn’t been lucky enough to be knocked out. She’d had to let herself be herded onto the helicopter, watching helplessly as Angela was picked up and carried on as well. At least they were being relatively careful with her, though she had to protest when they jostled her injured arm and bumped her head.

Then they took her armor. They left her barely clothed and shivering and battered, threw her in a cell, and there was nothing she could do about it. They had Angela.

She sat in a corner, head in her hands. She tried to think logically. Go through what had happened to try to figure out what was going to happen. Think logically and rationally so she wouldn’t be overwhelmed. She and Angela had been captured by Talon. They had used Angela to get to her. But they treated Angela gingerly; even the knockout blow had been carefully placed, next to no way it could actually injure her. Fareeha didn’t think Angela was in a cell like this right now, which meant she had to be the leverage here. But so few people knew that they were in love; they had been so careful and discreet, for this very reason, so no one would try to take advantage of it.

She exhaled and ran her hands through her hair. That was as much as she was going to be able to figure out right now: Talon was using her to get to Angela. For what or why, she didn’t know. She wouldn’t know. All trying to figure it out would do was make her worry more.

And she was tired. Not the kind of tired she was used to, but a bone-deep exhaustion. Given that and, well, the fact there was nothing else to do in this dark, tiny room, she let herself fall asleep.

xXx

Fareeha wasn’t sure if it was a dream or a memory. She’d woken up blearily in the middle of the night at the sensation of someone watching her. Before her eyes or mind had fully cleared, she’d seen a tall black figure. For the few minutes she was in that hazy, half-asleep state, the figure had remained, standing over and looking down at her. Watching her.

When her eyes opened, she saw what may have been smoke, may have been her mind playing tricks on her in the lonely darkness, then nothing. Then Fareeha had fallen back asleep, or maybe she’d fallen back into another fitful dream. She also thought she’d seen Angela in barely-there bedroom version of her Valkyrie suit lifting her into the sky so they could cuddle on the moon, which also happened to be Winston’s house, but he didn’t mind them crashing. So. She couldn’t exactly trust her nighttime mind.

But she was awake now. The cold concrete pressed into her bare skin, and where she’d slept it was caked with spots of dried blood. That had to be real. Also real? The foam tray slid under her door. Fareeha jumped to her feet as quickly as her injured, weary body could manage and banged on the door with her fist. “Hey! Where is Mercy? If you touch her, I will rain justice all over your ass!”

Silence. What had she expected? Maybe she’d scared whatever junior Talon agent had been tasked with bringing her food; that would be good enough for her right now. She sat down in front of the tray and looked at it disinterestedly. A slice of bread, some kind of Spam-looking meat-product, a foam cup of water. No utensils, no plastic or metal, nothing that could be turned into a weapon.

Fareeha pushed the tray away, then sighed, and pulled it back. She was loathe to eat anything Talon offered her, but she could just hear Angela’s voice scolding her and demanding she keep her strength up. So she put the meat on the bread and ate her makeshift sandwich with only a little bit of a grimace. The first bite was reluctant, but she finished the rest in a heartbeat. She was hungrier than she’d realized. The water she took her time with, only allowing herself a small sip for now.

Like he had been waiting for her to finish, the door to her cell opened and in stepped Reaper, arms crossed. “You ate. Good.”

“What does it matter to you?” Fareeha rose so she was looking him in the eyes, though it was hard to call those narrow slits in his mask eyes. She wanted to throttle him.

“We can’t have you starving yourself.”

“I had no idea you cared.” Her voice was biting.

“I don’t. Angela does.”

She flinched. Then she was angry. Her anger was low, smoldering; Angela’s was hot and rash, when it so rarely came out. But Fareeha’s anger was less rare. “What have you done to her.”

“We healed her.”

“What else did you do to her? Where is she?”

He ignored her questions. “You’re going to stay here. You’re going to eat what we give you. You’re not going to be difficult.”

“And if I don’t?”

“The woman you love will suffer.”

Fareeha bit her lip, then jerked her chin up defiantly. “You will not hurt her.”

“We will. So I suggest you cooperate.”

He slammed the door shut behind him and she rocked back on her heels, her fear finally having space to rise up in her and make her tremble. Cooperate? It wasn’t in her nature. But neither was putting Angela in danger.

CH. 4

Fixing her staff was easy, even with one hand. The snow had saved it, just like it had saved them, and all it took was some rewiring and a few basic repairs to get it functional again.

Replicating her staff was the hard part. Drawing out the diagrams and writing down the formulas sloppily with her left hand, explaining the concepts that made it work to people who had no right to understand or use this kind of technology...it pained Angela, every second. She hadn’t built them a new one today, but she had given them everything necessary to do it themselves. She’d been upset when Ana and Torbjorn had used the nanite technology in ways she didn’t agree with; this was ten times worse. At least they had good intentions. Talon did not.

“There. That’s everything. That’s years of hard work boiled down to a few hours. Can I go now?” Her voice was hollow and tired. Just this morning she’d laughed with Lena, made fun of Genji, encouraged Winston as he led them...kissed Fareeha. Though Talon had given her food and short breaks, they couldn’t give her the energy, the passion she got just by being around the people she loved and doing something good for the world. She’d done nothing good today.

You saved Fareeha, she reminded herself, but all that did was remind her that Fareeha wasn’t really safe at all. She was lonely and scared. Just like Angela.

One of the guards, some low-level Talon agent tasked with watching her, nodded. “I’ll take you to your room.”

Angela rose, still unsteady, not used to the unbalanced weight of her torso. “I need to use the washroom.”

He nodded again. That was all he seemed to do.

Angela went into the washroom, sat awkwardly on a toilet and locked the stall door, and started to sob into the hand she had left. Her breathing was hitched, panic rising, her slow tears falling more and more rapidly. She’d held it together this far only because she’d had to, because she hadn’t been alone, she hadn’t had time to let herself fall apart.

How she felt like she was falling apart. Her arm...she was a doctor, a scientist. She used her hands. She needed her hands. She needed her arms, both arms, to hold her staff. To hold Fareeha. Fareeha was trapped here, because of her, because Angela loved her, and she wasn’t, she wouldn’t be safe. How long would Talon keep her? Keep either of them? How long before they hurt her? How long before Fareeha was dead and Angela might as well be? Before...before she helped Talon hurt people. Before they used what she showed them to do the thing she never wanted, cause violence and pain and suffering.

The door opened and she heard the click of heels, and she tried to muffle her sobs, or quiet them, stopping them completely was too much to ask. The other woman in the washroom didn’t say anything. Angela was suddenly aware of how loud she was, how wet and warm her face was. No matter what Fareeha said, she knew she was an ugly crier, all blotchy cheeks and puffy eyes as soon as she let the tears flow.

How long had it been? Five minutes? Ten? It was hard to keep track when she felt like she was collapsing in on herself. But it was long enough that she knew she needed to leave. And she wasn’t going to face anyone looking like this. She had to stay strong. Or appear strong. Show them they couldn’t get to her, even if they had.

She rose, flushed the toilet as if she’d even used it, and went to the sink. It was as bad as she’d expected. Angela turned on the cold water and bent over, splashing it over her face. When she stood back up, she thought it was the water in her eyes, but, no. Her face was a mask of shock as she saw the woman washing her hands next to her. It was Widowmaker, but...it was someone else, too.

“Amélie?” Angela breathed.

She turned and looked at Angela blankly. Her voice was just the way Angela remembered, but twisted, without the warmth and lilt she loved. “It is Widowmaker now.”

Angela swallowed, fighting back the tears that she had worked so hard to push away. Her voice was a whisper. “What did they do to you?”

“Talon? They made me strong.”

“Amélie, what does that even mean...do you even remember me?

Widow’s eyes flicked up and down Angela’s body. “Of course I remember you, Dr. Ziegler. Why would I forget?”

Angela’s hand tightened into a fist. Her first thought was that Talon must’ve wiped her memories somehow, reprogrammed her; that would explain Gérard and everything since. “You remember everything?”

“Yes.”

“Then why?” Desperation snuck into her whisper. “You were never a killer, Amie.”

She’d hoped using that pet name, the one she’d whispered in Amélie’s ear while they hugged after the ballet, kissed behind corners, and made love in the med supply closet, a Paris hotel room, her husband’s bed maybe that would stir something in her. That Talon hadn’t truly made the woman she’d loved a cold, heartless assassin.

Widow shrugged. “Why not?”

She turned to leave, but Angela lurched forward and grabbed her slender wrist, almost letting go when she felt how cold Amélie’s skin was. “No. Amélie, what did they do to you?”

Widow blinked but did not respond.

Angela raised Widow’s arm. “You’re blue. You’re cold. Explain that, at least.”

“My heart rate has been lowered.”

“Why.” She could think of several reasons off the top of her head, but she wanted Amélie to explain.

“I feel nothing. It makes me more effective.”

“Oh,” Angela exhaled. So that was what they had done to her. Taken away her emotions, so even if she remembered...she didn’t care. Somehow, that was almost worse than if she’d forgotten everything. Knowing that Amélie looked at her, remembered everything they’d shared, and still had this blank expression and uncaring words, that was worse than Amélie not knowing her at all.

She let go of Widow’s wrist, but she couldn’t let go of the hope that maybe, somehow, Amélie could come back to her. It was stupid and she knew she should be focusing on surviving and getting out of here with Fareeha, but she’d thought Amélie dead, and now she was standing right here and there was this chance, no matter how slim, of saving her. That was always her downfall, wanting to save people.

“Are we finished?” Widow asked, bored.

Angela swallowed. “For now. I’m not giving up on you, Amie. I know you’re in there. I know I can save you.”

“There is nothing to save me from. I am strong now, nothing like the pathetic girl you knew.” The slightest, barest hint of a smile touched her lips, but it didn’t make her look any friendlier. “If you are still smart, Angela, you will let Talon make you strong too.”

Angela watched, frozen in place, as Amélie left. That was a threat mingled with faux-friendly advice. Let them make her strong. Join them? Never. Though, a small voice said, the fact that Amélie was even trying to give her that advice, terrible as it was…it hinted that she might still care. Somewhere in there she cared enough to want Angela to do the easiest thing for herself and submit.

She wouldn’t, of course. She’d keep fighting in whatever small ways she could. But they could do what they did to Amélie...but they hadn’t. Though that would be easier for Talon than this. Maybe it wouldn’t. If they hadn’t yet, there was a reason. Amélie was alive. Amélie was Widowmaker. Amélie remembered. Those thoughts were stronger than any speculations; those were facts. Both terrifying and wonderful at the same time.

[pisati]

I don’t want to jump the gun here, but I’m nervous.

could be I’m just intimidated by the learning curve. I’m not familiar with procedure yet and everything is uncomfortable. I answered the phone the right way today but couldn’t hear the person on the line and of course it was busy and both the other receptionists were doing something and I had to awkwardly put them on hold and ugh

that’s not what’s making me nervous. it’s that I’ve only been there for two days, at half the amount of time I’m going to be working in a few weeks, and I’m already exhausted. 

it’s a lot to keep up with. I’ve had zero experience with our scheduling software and it’s complicated. I don’t know procedure at the clinic yet, and I don’t know how to navigate anything. I’m still learning what buttons to click. there’s so much they’re having me watch and, bless them, they’re explaining all of it, but I can’t absorb much of it. I’m still trying to learn people’s names. meanwhile I’m watching the receptionist that’s training me answering the phone no sweat, pulling up a search box, typing in the person’s name (sometimes it’s already being typed in as she’s answering because she saw the caller ID), taking a glance at the profile and without a pause asking about the pet by name, scrolling through the log of interactions and noting what vaccines and tests they’ve had and what they’re due for and what the doctors said, typing in notes about the call with abbreviations and details about everything, knowing where to right-click to pull up other boxes and add new notes or prescription requests, knowing which buttons to press for estimates and invoices and knowing what things look like when those things are ready and the charges are accurate... I know that’s what happens when you’ve had years of experience with it, and I shouldn’t be so intimidated as a newbie, but it really is intimidating. I still barely know what I’m looking at, let alone what half the vaccines are for. so I guess in that way it could be exhausting. just trying to process everything. maybe once it becomes more routine it’ll be less taxing.

everyone’s confident I’ll learn, and they’ve been really encouraging. I know eventually I’ll get it. I’m always nervous about messing up, but it is what it is. I know it’s going to happen. I’m glad everyone’s being so supportive, and I’m trying to get over my anxieties in a productive way. like I asked if we could maybe write down some generic scripts for making/answering different types of phone calls, because that I think is the biggest one I’m nervous about. I don’t know what to even say half the time. they wanted me to make an “easy” call earlier, and I know it was pretty easy (they just wanted to ask an owner if they could possibly come in 10 minutes earlier because the online appointment they booked overlapped with another appointment), but I had no idea how to even... what do you say? or, rather, how do I relay that information and also remember to introduce myself and the clinic and say everything else that needed to be said without rambling or stopping to look for the right words? I tried to remember how the girl training me phrased it so I could write it down, but I think she started a text document after that and is going to write down some basic scripts for me. and also for the training manual she wants to write, because they don’t even have one (??). she wrote the manual for the clinic she worked at in california, so she wants to start writing one for this clinic too. I’m just surprised it hasn’t been done yet. they might’ve had old training manuals, but.. they’re old now. might be good to write up a new one now, so I can be the guinea pig as a totally blank slate, lmao

anyways I’m just nervous about my energy levels. I’ve got two closing shifts tomorrow and friday, 12:30-7 and then 2-7, and I’m afraid tomorrow might actually kill me. I’ve only done 4 hours these last two days and it’s been hard. I crashed hard yesterday and today, even though I tried not to nap. it’s not even 8 hours tomorrow but I just know I’m going to leave that clinic, get in my car, be too tired to make dinner when I get home, and just want to go straight to bed. it reminds me of my last job, and I don’t like that at all. as much as it Sucks getting up at 6am, I think I’d much rather have morning shifts. I can be out in the afternoon, be able to do shopping if I need to, and it’ll still be daylight when I get home. I told them I didn’t have a preference as far as schedules, but I think I might. I didn’t want to say I preferred mornings because I never have, but I think now I’d rather have more time in my day than more time to sleep in and lay in bed feeling useless and tired til it’s time to go in, then close and go home just to go straight back to bed.

maybe tomorrow I’ll be able to tell the clinic manager that. she did want to sit down with me and go over things. for now I’m okay being flexible, and I might need flexibility since I have doctor appointments on scattered mornings. I guess I’ll see. 

other than that, it was a pretty good day today. relaxed, though it was a little busy; we had two emergency appointments we had to fit in in the morning, one dog who’d been throwing up all night and another who’d had a new kind of treat and the owner thought a piece of it might’ve gotten stuck. we had another come in with a bad cough later in the day. there were only two of us opening, and one of them was me and I’m basically useless lmao. so it was a little crazy, but we managed. 

the other receptionist I’ve been working with (the one who’s leaving soon) wasn’t there today, and I guess she’s the one who usually puts on music, so the one that’s training me put on spotify on her phone. I asked if she’d heard of noah gundersen, because some of the songs on her playlist reminded me of him, and she said she had! that was a surprise to me; literally nobody I know has heard of him. I only knew about him because he opened for city & colour a few years ago. turns out we have a lot of overlapping indie tastes, and some of hers are even more obscure than mine. so that’s really cool. I wasn’t sure if she was joking when she said “we should totally go!!” when I told her noah gundersen was touring in DC in october, but if I win that ticket contest I might ask if she wants to go. I already asked charlotte, so she’s got first dibs, but knowing her she’ll be too busy. even if I don’t win, I’ll probably want to buy tickets anyway. she told me about this artist she discovered a while back and played a song of his for me; he’d done a gorgeous cover of city & colour’s Waiting (she loves C&C too!!). and on his first tour to the US she talked to him, went to both of his shows in SF and LA, I think. she said she lived 2 hours north of LA and 4 hours south of SF, and she road tripped to both because she just liked his music that much. she says the artist knows her and her mom at this point and loves them both; he didn’t feel like flying to LA from SF so he apparently asked if he could road trip with them and she said it was a great time. that’s such a cool experience to have. 

so it was nice being able to bond with the coworkers a little, to have something in common to talk about. I didn’t have that at my last job. the one person nearest in age to me was almost 10 years older, so I didn’t have much to talk about with anyone. I didn’t follow sports or watch anything on tv that my all-male coworkers did, so all the pop culture references went right over my head (except one time when my coworker happened to also have watched Flint Town, the mini docuseries about Flint, MI, and we actually had a decent discussion about it). my supervisor and I basically just had the fact that we were women in common, lmao. the only two in the company, by the time I left. we’d joke about men sometimes, and she was cool to talk to when we needed a conversation break from work, but I still never felt all that comfortable there. the expectation was more... head down, work 8 straight hours, limit chit-chat, go home. 

of course at the clinic the expectation is work first, but it’s only human to talk to each other in between tasks. and it’s easy enough; most of our interruptions are phone calls and clients coming in, and all of us know to drop what we’re doing and attend to those first. it’s just nice to be able to relax a little and feel like a person, to be able to talk to other humans to get through the day and not feel guilty for having personal conversations because you know you’re still getting your work done in between. I don’t have to cram my fuzzy-socked feet into uncomfortable ballet flats or sit in the same seat for 8 straight hours, ruining my jaw propping my head up at my desk; I get to wear the comfy sneakers I got at walmart, scrubs, and yoga pants (for now-- I think they want us to wear scrub pants but I don’t have any in my size yet). I get to get up every once in a while, to check in patients and let the techs know the appointments are there, get medications, so on. I’m nervous for plenty of reasons, but I still definitely appreciate the environment at this clinic a hell of a lot. I’m sure it’ll help me feel more comfortable and more confident in myself in a work environment, especially once I start actually learning the ropes. I’ve been burned a lot with jobs that have been just beyond my capacity and I think I just need to rebuild that confidence. maybe if my health situation improves I’ll start being able to expand my capacity again. I feel like I definitely backslid, but I guess that’s just what happens when your health hasn’t been great for 10+ years. 

I emailed my psychiatrist’s office to ask if they’d gotten my EKG results 2 days after I’d gotten it done (my primary said I could even call that day because they were going to fax them right away), but they emailed me back saying they hadn’t gotten them. I should’ve called my primary days ago to ask them to actually send it, but I hate calling people (cool that I’m working as a receptionist now,,,). so today I went into my patient portal and looked for the results; I hadn’t been able to see them before because I guess they started using a new service or something? but whenever I tried to log in on chrome it’d just give me a spinny wheel and wouldn’t actually log me in. I thought to try safari today, because I remembered my bank had been giving me a similar issue for a while, and it worked. they’d uploaded my actual EKG chart to my profile, so I just downloaded it and emailed it to my psych’s office myself. I explained that my primary said it was totally normal and I’m cleared for adderall. hopefully that’s enough for my doc. we were kind of hoping that I’d be able to try the adderall before I started work, but I guess being part-time for 2 weeks isn’t the worst time to try it either. if my sending it to her is ok, maybe she’ll be able to send out the prescrip tomorrow. the hope is that, since it’s a stimulant, it’ll give me enough of an energy kick to be able to get through work days and be able to focus and retain a little more information. I hope that’s the end result, anyway. god knows I need the energy.

it’s good for me to get the anxieties out now. it actually does feel a little better to get them out and see them written out, because looking at them written down, from the outside, I do look like I’m hyperbolizing a bit. just worrying, worrying, worrying. I’m glad it’s just nagging worries and not actual anxiety, but I do wish my brain would shut up and let me do things. it’d be cool if I didn’t get so self-deprecating over little mistakes too, but one thing at a time. nervous, definitely, but I just need time. everything’s working out so far; got charlotte’s wedding on the calendar already just to get that definitely squared away. my sleep med doctor appointment is on a morning when I’m scheduled after noon. at least for the next few weeks I don’t have any problems or conflicts so that’s real nice. I think this week might be a pay week, so I’ll have to see if I’m getting paid yet; my first paycheck’s going to be really small but it’ll be something, and something is more than I’ve been getting for the last year, so. I can’t complain. I fixed an issue I had with my investment money yesterday, and I was really proud of myself for making a scary phone call and actually adulting, lol. I got that issue all sorted out thanks to the nice guy at the investment company who had to put some puzzle pieces together bc the guy that helped me do the transaction fucked up and I couldn’t figure out how (because I did this 4 months ago and only looked at it now 🙄). I’m just glad to have it sorted, and I’m meeting with my mom’s financial advisor on monday to talk about all of this too, so hopefully that’ll ease my mind some, just knowing that my financial situation is being taken care of. maybe I’ll start getting some sense of where I’m at relative to what I need for the things I want in the next few years, and I’ll be getting some guidance on how to get the most out of what I have. I don’t know anything about money and I’m terrible at numbers; I would rather not have any kind of involvement in the stock market at all. it’s too confusing and anything involving even a little bit of math makes me want to barf. but it’s the smartest move at this point and I know it. I’m just glad I have help. knowing that, knowing that things are generally okay, even if I’m still not in the best shape... I just feel balanced. I haven’t been able to feel that in a long-ass time, and god am I happy to be there. 

I just want to keep this calmness going. 

[thefirerainchronicles]

Painfully Blessed

“Write down what it’s like,” many people have told me.

            For about two years now – since the pain moved slowly but surely from hurt to agony, then inched towards the ‘unbearable’ line etched in the imaginary soil of my mind – those words have been spoken aloud often by those I meet. “Write down what it’s like.”

            That’s easier said than done. Most days, the pain edges as close to the unbearable line as it dares, held at bay by painkillers and smiles. On the worst days, it comes to a point where I can hardly tell from which area of my body it radiates, for it’s everywhere all at once. There are days where I sit on the edge of my bed and try to decide which leg needs to be favored the most, while both scream for the caution. After all, it’s a little hard to limp on both legs; yet there are days I have learned how.

            Beyond the pain, the exhaustion is often even more crippling. The very thought of sitting up seems as hard and painstaking as climbing Mount Everest, let alone making it all the way downstairs for breakfast. Often there are times when I put off taking a shower or bath for days because there’s simply no energy left to take a shower with once I’ve finished with the stairs. Add 15 to 45 minutes of daily exercise with physical therapy and my energy seems highly inadequate. 

            Moving passed the exhaustion, you pass by confusion central, the almost-entirely-empty concentration barrel, and the field of foggy thoughts. The days where I can barely think, read, or even understand basic conversations are becoming more and more common. Sometimes it takes me three or four times just to understand the most basic concepts/sentences.

            The most basic tasks of existence feel insurmountable. Life in its simplest form seems terrifying.

            I can’t even remember the way it feels to be painless.

            So if I had to sum up my life this last few years in just two words, it would be easy to choose them.

            So blessed.

            So blessed.

            In the midst of the pain, the exhaustion, and the confusion, there’s always been love. Every day, my family helps me eat, walk, laugh and smile. Every day, I wake up knowing that if I can’t make it down the stairs alone, they’ll be there to help me. Every day, I know no matter how hard and painful every step is, I don’t have to take them alone. And every day, I wake up knowing that I have one of the most loving, caring, encouraging families on earth. I’m so blessed.

            On the days I can’t make it out of bed hardly, when I’m trapped at home, in too much pain to go anywhere, I have friends who email, message, text, and chat with me. Who’ve stayed up late at night when the pain’s too bad to sleep. Who’ve spoken encouragement, sent virtual hugs, distracted me from the pain, made me laugh, made me smile, and touched my life in a hundred more ways than the pain ever could hope to. I am so blessed.

            Too sick to work or help with the cost of all the special care I now need, my church family has sent money, equipment, prayers, and assistance to my family and I. Gifts and cards have helped beyond words. I am so blessed.

            Where many people would have little reason to believe things will get better, I have a mom who looks every day for ways to help me. Who never fails to see the bright side and focus on the good. Who I know loves me more than anything in the world and reminds me that there’s always hope. I’m so, so blessed, because I think she’s the most amazing mom in the entire world, and she’s mine.

            With so many things to weigh me down or break me, things that leave me in agony nearly 100% of the time, that have robbed my ability to walk, function, think, do, and even hardly exist on the level most other people do… I have a God who whispers every single day, “I am with you. I love you. I will never leave you. I have given you everything you need to face this.” I have a God who every single day touches me and gives me the strength I need to make it to the next one. Who has given me everything – and everyone – I could possibly need to help me through this. The Creator of the Heavens and the Earth loves me and strengthens me. I am so blessed.

            I’ve had more people than I can count ask me how I can still be smiling. It’s very easy. I have over a thousand reasons to smile and just one reason not to.

            The pain doesn’t really stand a chance. 

 --Miranda Marie

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