#and i still can't walk without crutches or for very long

[weregreatatcrime]

Hiii! Omg I am so happy to see you doing Trollhunters again! And I am enjoying the crossover tidbits.

Though, as an older fan, I am curious to ask, hope it doesn't feel too pushy. Have you thought about your Kanjibarbara fic ever since coming back to ToA?

Okay so I'm gonna say it again and probably not one more time. Not because this ask was pushy, you're fine, but because I've gotten Several asks about it over the last two years since stopping Kanjibara au and all my other projects. It's frustrating because it's a deeply personal and painful topic for me and many people from multiple Fandoms keep asking the same questions. Like a lot of people. Like, a LOT of fucking people on ao3

The last two years have been medical hell. I've had a fuckton of medical, neurological, and mental issues that changed my entire life- part of those issues are cognitive decline and memory loss. The first year is a blur tbh, and a lot of my memories are fuzzy as a result. My ability to recall things is scattered- some shit is fine, some stuff may as well have happened to a stranger.

Part of that is my creative work. I don't think I'll ever continue the things I was working on beforehand, simply because I don't remember what I was planning or what I was doing with them. I remember I had an absolute joy with them! I remember the Trollhunters Fandom being a delight and a very warm and welcoming environment.

But a lot of details are muddy and I'm sure you understand, trying to piece together my own memories of stuff I'm struggling with is frustrating and painful and more stressful than it's worth. I'm already recovering incredibly well right now, I don't feel like digging myself back into that hole for Fandom stuff

New stuff is all on the table though! After two years, I finally was able to get my hand strength back up enough to draw recently and have been working on maintaining it. (Tremors and spasms made it impossible before) I'm also back into writing- though I still struggle with cognitive issues with writing, working on writing things that bring me joy has helped a lot

But all my projects from before are likely not going to be touched on again. It sucks. But they're a sensitive topic for me rn and probably will be touchy for a long while. Chances are I'll delete any asks or comments I get about them from here on out just for my own sake

[ko-existing]

i don't ask this question with any ill intent, i'm genuinely curious: what is so wrong about being interested in having a different “physical" experience? it may be illusory, but it's still an experience that we are seemingly having. are you saying that it's not possible to "change" it or are you just trying to make people understand that that's not what ND is about/it's a secondary thing that comes with knowing who you are.

thank you in advance

read with a neutral tone:

we get a lot of asks like this but literally who said that

for as long as i can remember We said "If it has no form, it can appear as anything". It's always inbetween the lines people miss to read, though, that sentence is actually very direct and clear. Are you glued to a single dream every night?

everytime someone doesn't outright say "yes you can change the physical!☺️" word for word (like a few popular limiting accounts in the past) within No concept, to avoid false fixiations and ideas, it's completely misunderstood.

A lot of people use "even though it's illusory, it's still a seeming experience" like you did but it's not that they actually understand what they just claimed, they use it because that's what they've been reading, not because they understand it fundamentally. If "this" and "that" are seeming experiences, illusory and are bound to the same foundation what does that actually mean?

A lot of people are used to having affirmative answers and step by step guides or whatever and as soon as that's not given, it's like readers can't think outside of that box they've been in and see what's directly infront of them. Without understanding what this is, many already have the false idea that this is the method of all methods, a technique like whatever the ones they've been using in the past. It isn't. It's simply a pointer. Crutches are there to assist you in walking. They don't walk for you.

and in general, everything is discovered through direct experience which is never reading endless posts and listening to endless videos

[poorly-written-fiction]

a little bit too much - logan howlett x fem!reader

A/N: i saw @journal3sposts post about logan with his young, tipsy, hypersexual little girlfriend who can't keep her hands to herself in the car. the post spoke to me on a very deep, emotional level. so i threw this fic together. it doesn't actually end in smut, i do have some minor discomfort writing dubious consent content, mostly because i don't want to make anyone else uncomfortable. but if this is received well and i don't get bricks theown at me i will write something properly spicy. this is also the first piece of writing i'm posting publicly in 10 years so please have some patience with me. also despite being 22 years old and being a casual alcohol drinker, i do not drink at bars, so my idea of going to bars is based solely on the experiences of others + what i've seen in movies and tv shows. apologies, i'm sorry i'm lame.

tags: not quite smut, but very suggestive (18+, MDNI), alcohol consumption (reader is 21+), age gap (legal, but let's be honest, every relationship with logan is an age gap relationship) fem!reader (no specific descriptions of appearance), reader is handsy, logan is a little more responsible, some spelling/grammar errors probably i'm too tired to check

Logan loved taking Y/N to bars. She was fun without alcohol, but after a few drinks she was truly a sight. Logan would joke that she kept him young with her shenanigans. She would drink and dance, and flirt - oh good lord, she would flirt. She would run her hands up and down his arms, run her fingers through his hair, any excuse she had to touch Logan, she'd take it. She'd take a shot, then kiss him immediately after - or kiss him right after he took a drink of his own drink. Usually it was beer, but he occasionally got whiskey when he was in the mood for it.

One particular night, Logan and Y/N were at a bar playing a game at one of the billiards tables. It wasn't a grimy place, but definitely not one of the nicest places either of them had gone to. It was comfortable enough - the music didn't play too loud and the drinks were good, and strong. Logan sipped a glass of whiskey, while Y/N tried whatever the bartender had suggested when she asked for a recommendation. That was another thing Logan liked about her, she would try almost anything at least once. After a drink of her own, a celebratory shot for winning the game, and a few sips she had snuck from Logan's glass, she was well on her way to stumbling a little more when she walked. She clung to Logan like a crutch, and he wrapped his arm around her waist, holding her close to him so she wouldn't fall or wander too far. Y/N grabbed Logan by the collar of his flannel shirt and pulled him down into a kiss. A long, hard, meaningful kiss. There was never any doubts that they loved each other, but they don't call alcohol "liquid truth" for nothing.

"We better get you home, darlin'." Logan paid the tab and scooped up Y/N, carrying her bridal style to the old truck. "Can you grab the door for me, princess?" Y/N pulled the handle, and Logan got her settled inside, pressing a kiss to her temple when he buckled her seatbelt. When he made sure she was secure, he shut the door and made his way over the driver's side. He hopped in, turned the key, and started back for home.

The ride back was comfortably quiet. Not a lot of conversation, just the sounds of the road and some generic country song played inaudibly on the radio. Logan drove with one of his hands on Y/N's thigh, occasionally rubbing it with his thumb and smiling at her. She'd smile back, her head still feeling fuzzy from the outing, but she was in good hands, and she was happy. It didn't take long before they were stopped at a red light that held for just a little bit longer than some of the others, and Y/N slid one of her hands over Logan's chest.

He smiled, shaking his head, "What are you doing there, baby?"

Y/N just smiled back, mumbling something along the lines of, "I'm just feeling you. You're so handsome."

Logan smiled before leaning over and kissed his lover, her breath still smelling faintly of alcohol. It wasn't off-putting, just a subtle reminder that she wasn't completely sober. Y/N couldn't contain herself, moaning quietly into the kiss and running her hands down to his belt, fumbling with it. Logan put one of his hands over hers, moving them away gently.

"Babygirl, we can't do that right now," Logan pressed his forehead against hers, smiling apologetically. He couldn't deny that he didn't like the contact or the way Y/N would practically throw herself at him. But, he didn't want to take advantage - or feel like he was taking advantage - especially because she was so much younger than he was. Almost everyone Logan knew was younger than him, but Y/N almost made it too obvious that there was a significant age difference between the two. He didn't mind it too much, obviously because they had been dating for a while, but his moral compass still steered him away from fucking her while she was this intoxicated.

Y/N pouted, moving her hands back up to his chest, "What about when we get home? I want you so badly, Lo..."

He kissed her forehead, and rubbed her thigh gently, not with intention of teasing her, but instead as a way to soothe her. "You're not sober enough, darlin'. It wouldn't be right. If you feel up for it in the morning, we can try again."

"But it's okay, I love you, it would be okay." Y/N's head was just spinning with the idea of Logan touching her. He shook his head, gave her soft thigh a light squeeze, and the light turned green. Logan pressed on the gas, and continued his drive home.

"If you feel up for it in the morning, I'd be more than happy to give you what you want. For tonight, we need to get you into bed, doll."

========================================

A/N: thank you for reading, if you did! suggestions, questions, comments and concerns are always appreciated okay bye!

[go-to-two]

Once More - Post CPD 11x13 Story

Hello!

I've mentioned that I've been fiddling with a(nother) post-Bolivia story, but it just isn't coming together. For the best? Probably. It will likely never see AO3, but I figured I'd share the first chapter here as a lil bonus.

It is very much Hailey's story, set right after her exit in season 11. No big content warnings, except angst and to make known that it's more of a "what could be" story than one with a real resolution. The happy ending is yours to create. Under the cut.

Of all the doors Hailey could be knocking on right now, how the hell did she end up here?

She double checks the house number. 1227. The yellow house on the corner. It’s a sprawling, woodsy street- not like the uniform tree-lined blocks of Chicago suburbs, but of a neighborhood tucked into the border of a big city and the mountains that surround it. It’s quiet, apart from the wind rustling in the leaves and some birds squawking overhead.

Hailey didn’t spend a ton of time picturing this place until she had a reason to. She pulls at the luggage tag hanging from her backpack until it snaps off, and she shoves it in the smallest pocket of her bag. Out of the pocket spills some damp tissues, evidence of her past few hours. She scoops them off the front porch quickly and forces them back in the bag. 

She just needs to summon the courage to knock on the door. She left Chicago, got on the plane, flew hundreds of miles, and somehow this feels like the hardest part. Once she knocks, there's no walking it back.

Hailey raises her fist to the wooden door, but never actually hits it as her eyes glaze over- using the swirling grain of the wood as an excuse to zone out. How did she end up here?

She could be in the middle of Manhattan, pushing open the glass doors of the FBI headquarters. In Albuquerque, striding through a DEA office. In Washington DC, in Denver, in Philadelphia, in a new city every year with FEMA. Anywhere. 

Hailey considered everything. She had known it was time to leave Intelligence for weeks, probably more. The unit that was once home was stripped of everything that made it so until it was only a crutch- a mere shadow of what it used to be that she clung to to convince herself she was still doing okay. It wasn’t until she took a bullet for it that she knew it had nothing to offer her anymore, and she was giving everything of herself for a chapter of her life that was never coming back. 

Once she finally turned in her badge, she buried herself in her computer. Hailey looked up just about every law enforcement agency with a three-letter nickname. Days passed as she tried to picture herself moving on. For the first time in a long time, her future was wide open. Yet when she closed her eyes each night, she didn’t see New York or Albuquerque or Washington DC or Denver or Philadelphia. She saw a face. 

Soft green eyes screaming for help.

Hailey hasn't seen Jay in a year and a half, but his face is as clear as if he were still falling asleep next to her each night. He doesn't deserve her worry, but love doesn't always work that way. She has faced plenty of monsters, and she has sat across interrogation tables or in courtrooms with their family and friends who insist that they aren't the monster Hailey saw. She never really understood it until she was the one on the other side of the table. Jay isn't a monster.

She knows she needs to move on, but Hailey can't do it- not really- without knowing what will happen to him. Maybe this will just be closing another chapter that is never coming back. Maybe all this will do is hurt her again, but moving to New York or Albuquerque or Washington DC or Denver or Philadelphia without knowing either way wouldn't be moving on at all. It would be living the last two years of her life over and over in a new city. 

So here she is, staring at the wooden door with a hand-drawn sign reading Halstead hung on the wall to the right. Her closed fist hangs awkwardly in the air. She closes her eyes for a second and takes a deep, dramatic breath. Just as she summons the courage to finally knock, the door creaks open. 

"Hailey?"

Her hand drops. "Hi, Will."  

He stares with wide eyes. "Hi," he says slowly. He glances behind her as if still looking for the second person who should be by her side. It takes a few seconds for him to realize that she isn't someone he sees every day anymore, and she doesn't belong in Seattle. The air deflates and Hailey recognizes the fall of his face when he remembers everything that has happened. "Is everything okay?"

"I left Intelligence." The words tumble out. They don't really have anything to do with anything right now, but she hasn't had anyone to tell yet. Will is the first person she is talking to, so he gets the jumbled mess of emotion she is still sorting through. "And I'm leaving Chicago." 

"Wow, okay," he says, understandably unsure what else to offer. 

"Do you have a minute?" 

Finally, he can do something. Will smiles softly. "For family, I have two. Come on in." He opens the door wider and motions her through. He looks older in the short amount of time since Hailey has seen him, but in a way that makes him appear more mature than worn-down. His auburn hair is cut shorter and smile lines are deep around his eyes. "I gotta say, I was ready to come out swinging when the doorbell camera kept capturing motion at the front door." He jokes weakly. "Usually it's a squirrel triggering the sensor." 

"You'd hit a squirrel?"

"They tear up Natalie's garden and chew the power lines. They're lucky that hitting is all I'd do." Will pauses. "Actually, they're lucky I have a son who would never forgive me if I shot one."

"You'd have to be able to actually hit one," Hailey laughs emptily. "So I think they're safe for now." She spots a picture of Owen hanging in the hallway. He looks older too, but in the way kids seem to change five years at a time when you don't see them for one. "I like your home." It's disheveled and cluttered with signs of a happy life. Piles of shoes in the entryway, jackets hung on hooks by the front door, sports equipment stored by the back, a full family calendar hanging on the fridge. "Not quite a Chicago penthouse anymore, huh?"

"Thanks for assuming I had a penthouse." Will swings the door shut behind her and nods her toward the living room. "But not quite, no. It's not what I pictured, but we wanted a change of pace- room for Owen and future kids to grow up." 

"Is Natalie-"

"No," Will shakes his head quickly. "Not pregnant, but we're trying." He shuffles around the room to straighten up blankets and move piles of freshly folded clothes from the couch. "Is that weird to say? It always feels weird to tell people we're trying."

"It's fine." 

"We're doing the whole thing. The house, hopefully more kids, a wedding eventually. We're just doing it a little out of order, I guess."

Hailey takes a seat in a deep suede recliner that he points her to. She sits on the edge with her elbows resting on her knees, her hands tangling with nerves. "Order isn't everything. It's great," she answers. "Really, I'm- I'm happy for you guys."

She isn't very convincing, because she can't hear about Will's life without thinking of Jay. The wedding he should be at. The uncle he would have been- he is- and the kids who could look a little bit like him, but he might never meet.

Will sits crookedly on the armrest of the couch and nods slowly as their struggling attempt at small talk dies between them. "You didn't come all this way to talk about our family planning." 

"No." 

"Should I get us something to drink before we get to the good stuff, or should we jump right in?"

"You gotta get him out," Hailey breathes.

Will raises his eyebrows and smacks his lips. "Okay, we're jumping right in." He scoots down to the couch to sit across from her. "And by him, you mean-"

"Jay."

"And by out, you mean-"

"Back to Chicago? Here? I don't know, Will, but he has to get out of Bolivia." 

"Right," Will sighs. He sits back and scrubs his hands over his face. "Did you hear from him? Did something change?"

"No."

"Because last I heard from him, he was doing okay."

"How long ago was that?"

"A year or so, but I haven't heard anything different since then."

"Then why isn't he home?" It feels like everyone wants to keep dancing around reality. Voight, Trudy, the rest of Intelligence all told her it was okay to move on because Jay was finding his way without her, but no one could answer one simple question. Why was he still over there? "You want to believe he's getting better. I get that. I lost everything for that- but it's been a year and a half. If he were really doing as okay as he told you, he'd be back by now." 

"Maybe he's not ready. Maybe... maybe he likes it."

"Then why hasn't he reached out? You and I both know that he wouldn't shut you out without a reason. The divorce papers might be the last thing I ever hear, but I still know him and I know when something doesn't feel right."

"None of this has ever felt right, but-" Will hesitates. His eyes dart to her before flitting away, and he has the same look on his face that Hailey has seen from everyone. He wants to say something, but he's afraid to hurt her. The irony is, no one can hurt Hailey like Jay did, and she is still here fighting for him.

"You can say whatever it is you want to say." She gives him permission to do his worst.

"I just think...he made a choice." Will answers, delicately, like each word could be the one to break her. "I'm not saying it was right or that I agree with it because I don't, but it was his choice to make." 

"And I think that if the next time we see him is in a body bag, honoring his choices isn't going to feel so noble."

"So what do you suggest? We throw a grown ass man over our shoulders and drag him home?" 

"You go try to talk to him, where he can't dodge phone calls or hide behind the distance."

"What if you're wrong?"

"Then you get a nice trip to Bolivia. Have fun- but do you really think I'd be doing all of this for a man I divorced if I thought that were true?"

"You keep saying 'you'," Will stops her, "like you aren't involved in this, too." 

Silent tears begin welling up despite Hailey's best efforts, and they spill over when she tries to blink them away. She pulls her sleeve over her hand and swipes them away in frustration. "I can't..." See him. Relive everything without finally falling apart herself. Be the tough love he needs when she would do anything- including watching him go to Bolivia in the first place, including watching him stay again- if he looked in her eyes and asked for it. "I can't."

"I wouldn't go without you." Will shakes his head. "If we really did this- if I left Natalie and Owen to go check up on him, I'm not getting all the way to La Paz just for Jay to look at me and ask, 'where's Hailey?'"

"He doesn't want to talk to me."

"I thought we weren't honoring his choices."

Instinctively, Hailey's hand ghosts across her side. The gunshot wound still stings. All her life, she has been hurt when she was only trying to help. What began as violence at home conditioned her to accept the pain of other people's burdens. Jay needs help, but she can't survive much more in the name of giving it if she ever wants to be able to put herself back together. Seeing him, looking into his eyes and watching him walk away again- that would hurt her more than a bullet. 

It was only supposed to be Will. She is quiet for a few long seconds, her gaze fixed down and her hand slowly swiping along her scarred side. Maybe Will notices, maybe he doesn't. He doesn't have time to say anything either way before the front door opens, and Natalie walks inside. 

"Oh." She stands up straight when she spots Hailey sitting in the living room. "Just when I thought this day had run out of surprises." Natalie speaks slowly as she studies their flushed faces and rigid postures. "It's good to see you, Hailey."

Hailey forces her most convincing smile. "You, too."

Will blows out a long sigh and scratches at his brow with his thumb. A heavy silence weighs down the room. "How was work?"

"Fine," Natalie answers. "Busy." Her gaze darts between the two of them. "I'm interrupting something." She states the apparent. Neither answer her, so she kicks off her shoes and offers a tight smile. "Right. I'll leave you to whatever this is. Hailey, will you be staying tonight?"

"-No."

"-Yes." Will cocks his head, urging her to accept this. "You're family," he says evenly. "If you're staying in Seattle, then you're staying here." 

"I'm going to shower, then I'll make up the guest bedroom." Natalie settles the debate. "It's yours for as long or short a time as you want it."

"Thank you. I won't bother you for long," Hailey promises.

"Not a bother at all." Natalie shifts her attention to Will and finishes with, "just remember Owen's bus drops him off in ten minutes." A non-negotiable request to wrap this up or take it somewhere else before he gets home from school. 

"I got it," Will assures. Once Natalie is out of the room, he rubs his hands over his face again. Slower, in resignation more than frustration. "I'd have to talk to her before we make any decisions."

"Of course."

"So let's just let this lie for now. We'll come back to it."

"Okay."

They drop the topic, but it never really drops for Will. Hailey watches him carry it. Sometimes all it takes is one card falling to bring the whole house down. She was that falling card. She watches Will walk away from the conversation with the understanding that Jay really might not be okay- and once you know someone you love is struggling, every thought finds its way back to them until they are all you can think about.  

Hailey knows all too well. 

She sees it in Will's empty smile when Owen comes home and talks about his day at school, like every story is digging up memories of a shared boyhood. She sees it when they sit down to dinner and, whether he realizes it or not, Will adjusts the one empty chair at the table. She sees it when he looks at Natalie and his face falls, like Will is finally understanding everything Jay lost. 

Moment by moment, Hailey watches Will be consumed by the realization that his brother is not okay until he is knocking on the guest room door at 5:30am looking like he didn't sleep a wink. 

"Let's go," he agrees.

***

Hailey shakes in her seat. Her leg bounces, her eyes shift. One unexpected jolt, and she is sure she'd hit the ceiling. The plane tilts upwards, carrying them away from Seattle. 

Will puts his hand on top of hers that grips the armrest for a brief second, and he raises his eyebrows at her when she whips her head in his direction. "I didn't realize you're a nervous flyer."

"I don't care what science says, humans belong on the ground." 

He chuckles. "I wish I had known. I would have prescribed you Xanax or something." 

"You're assuming I don't already have it." 

"Fair enough. Take it," he shrugs. "We've got a long flight. It might help you get some sleep." 

"Yeah," she says dismissively, but she never takes it. It's so much more than flying jitters. Even if they still have well over ten hours until they land and even if she doesn't see Jay for another ten after that, Hailey won't risk dulling anything she feels. Emotions, instincts are all she has to get herself through this, and he's good enough at disarming them all on his own. 

She stares out the window as cities beneath them blur into brown and green swatches from almost 40,000 feet up. Then everything is blue as they make their way over the Pacific. Hailey passes a couple of hours like this. Call it an unintended talent from a rough childhood- she can shut everything out and sit in solemn, silent, undisruptive nothingness. She sits and stares at the window while Will absentmindedly watches a movie, flight attendants pass through the aisles, a baby cries a few rows back, and other passengers step around each other, leaning into her space. It's like she isn't there. 

After a few hours, her muscles go tight. The stiffness in her legs is expected, but the dull ache in her side catches her by surprise. Hailey leans awkwardly and presses her fingers to her scar to ease the soreness. 

"Are you ever going to tell me what happened there?" 

Will notices, because of course he does. He was probably diagnosing her the moment her hand ghosted over the spot yesterday. 

"Gunshot," she answers. No point in hiding anything anymore. 

He shuts the movie off and turns in his seat. "I'm sorry, what?"

"Bad case," Hailey explains simply. "It was a through and through. I'm fine."

"How long ago?"

"A few months."

"Hailey."

"A month," she corrects, "and a few days. Don't worry, the surgeons at Med found a way to function without you. I was patched up, and I'm fine." 

"Does Jay know?"

"Nope."

He nods slowly. It's tiresome to watch the same expressions fall on people's faces when they learn snippets of how her life has been for the past year and a half. Will at least has the composure to hide the pity quickly. His throat tightens when he swallows thickly. A beat, then two. "Why are you doing all this for him?" 

"I wasn't planning on doing this at all."

"Okay, but you still showed up in Seattle." 

Hailey bites at her cheek. The words are always there, simmering under her skin, burning with everything she lost. Hailey can leave Intelligence, leave Chicago, try to outrun it all, but can't outrun something that is part of her. Jay is part of her. She promised him as much before she even took her vows. His life, her life- they're connected, even if they aren't lived together. 

Hailey doesn't have to do this. She could land in La Paz, turn around, get on the next plane out, and be back home by tomorrow. Except, where is home? And why the hell would she make promises if not to show up for him when he needs it most? So the words always stay a breath away, burning.

Will knows, because of course he does. "You love him."

The words sound so simple coming from someone else. "Everyone expects me to be able to just turn that off," Hailey whispers. "Like the second he left, I should have been able to just wash my hands of him and move on. Tell me, if Natalie left today and did everything Jay did, yet you knew she was struggling, would you stop loving her?" 

Will doesn't think more than a second. "No, I'd be doing exactly what you're doing." 

"It's easy for everyone to have an opinion from the outside. I'm not flying into some fairytale ending. I get that. I know he needs help, and I can't move forward without trying."

Will puts his hand over hers again. Hailey didn't realize she still was gripping the armrest. Tense is her baseline right now. He squeezes her fingers until she relaxes, and Will flashes a sad smile- maybe his only smile through this whole ordeal. "We'll try." 

The plane touches down in La Paz several hours later. It's early October, the end of the rainy season. A steady shower falls as they disembark and make their way through customs. Raindrops race across the cab window on the bumpy, winding drive from the airport to the neighborhood where Jay lives. 

Dark clouds hang low above their heads, as if the skies know everything that is brewing. It's the closest she has been to Jay in a year and a half. For months after he left, she saw him in strangers' faces in Chicago. In the district, in the grocery store, at the gym, at their favorite restaurant- everywhere he should have been. He was never there. 

He could be here. Jay could be around any corner, an arm's length away at any moment. It feels heavy, all-consuming, and dark like the clouds that seem to push closer and closer each minute. 

Nothing is okay. Hailey feels it. Will keeps up appearances and paints on the same reassuring smile when he leaves her in her hotel room to go find Jay first, but it doesn't last long. 

He returns less than an hour later. The light in his eyes is gone, reduced to emptiness. He works his hand over his jaw as he hands in her hotel doorway with every bit of optimism drained from his body. "He's, uh- he's not coming back," Will rasps. "I didn't tell him you were here, so you should do whatever is best for you. I'm sorry I pressured you so hard to come." He takes a step away from her room and towards his own. "I need to check in on Owen and talk to Nat. I'll be in my room." 

Then he's gone. It's up to her.

Hailey's decision was made when she got on the plane, so she pulls on her shoes and throws her hood over her head. The rain beats down on her and puddles wet the bottom of her jeans on the short walk from the hotel to the address Will gave her. Nighttime is setting in. The last bits of sunlight disappear behind the mountains, and street lights are turning on, reflecting against the water on the ground in yellow ripples. 

Jay lives in a small building a few blocks from base. His apartment is a blue two-story complex on top of a hill. Hailey can see it from down the block, and she puts her head down to keep the water out of her face as she gets closer. He lives in apartment 6. The closest unit on the ground floor. 

Not that she truly could, but Hailey doesn’t have time to prepare to knock on this door. From the edge of the driveway, she sees him. There is no happiness or anger at first glance. Only stunned silence. Jay sits on a plastic chair on the front porch. His posture is dejected, and the glow of a cigarette in his mouth flashes orange. His hair and face are clean-cut in military precision, but his skin is sallow. Eyes cast down. Shoulders weak and dropped low. Everything goes silent when she sees just how unrecognizable he looks. The rain, the wind, the sounds of the city- they all disappear as Hailey stops in her tracks and stares. 

This is not a Jay she has ever known. The bullet in her side hurt. Watching him walk away again would have hurt more. Seeing him like this... this hurts the most. Never once did she imagine her first sight of him in a year and a half would be a Jay she can't help, and that the only thing she can do for him is to admit that she doesn't know what to do for him at all.

Hailey takes a few slow steps towards him with her arms wrapped tight around her body. Tears are trickling down her face, and she doesn't even try to stop them. More would take their place in seconds. Jay tosses the cigarette butt into the parking lot and reaches for a beer bottle sitting on the table next to him.

Her foot scrapes against an uneven dip in the pavement, and he looks up with the bottle hovering at his lips. He squints through the rain, but the way his whole body seizes up tells her he knows exactly who he sees. "Hailey?" 

God, even his voice is different. Her name on his tongue used to be her favorite sound. It's not the dark circles under his eyes that scare her most, nor the way his clothes hang from his skin and bones frame. It's something deeper, something lost and broken and hollow from the inside out. 

She takes a deep, gasping breath as tears flow steadily down her cheeks now. Hailey steps under the patio cover in front of him, and she focuses on a gold chain hanging from his neck so she doesn't have to look into his eyes. 

"Hailey-" 

"No," she interrupts him. She can't hear her name from that voice anymore if she is going to get through this. "Jay, you need to get help." 

"I'm sorry-"

"Stop. We're not doing that right now." His chair scrapes against the concrete as he pushes to stand, so she takes a step back. "Stop." 

Jay stops, but sits forward in his chair and dips his head to see her. She shifts her gaze down to his feet. "Can you look at me?"

Hailey shakes her head. She hasn't looked in his eyes once because if she did, she would still find the good times. Hailey remembers the way his eyebrow quirked up when she recited her vows, as if he was looking at her and seeing their future unfurl in front of him too. She would see the way they shined when he laughed hard. She would see their home, their promises, the careers they built, the children they planned to have. 

She can't look at him, so she steps forward and takes his face in her hands. She presses her lips to his hairline, water and tears slipping along their skin. "I don't know what else to do for you."

He starts reaching out for her, but she steps farther back before he can touch her. "I need to move forward, and I want that for you, too. You can make it to the other side of this. I know you can. Please, Jay." She presses one last, fleeting kiss to the top of his head. "Get home and get help." Then she turns away. 

Hailey retreats down the driveway and wipes her tears. She never looks in his eyes. When she gets back to the hotel, she packs her bag, texts Will, gets in a cab, rides to the airport, and buys the first ticket she can out of here.

[bm571158]

Free Now LN4 (Part 17)

"Be careful, okay?" Flo repeated for what seemed like the millionth time, finally letting go of Lottie and turning her attention back to her brother. "And you make sure you take care of her? Don't you dare do anything stupid, that goes for both of you."

"Alright, alright." Lando rolled his eyes, extracting himself from Flo's hug. "We need to get going if we're going to stop and see Mum on the way. If not I'm going to run out of time and we'll miss our flight."

"I'm pretty sure it wont go without you." Flo joked. "Perks of flying private and all that."

"What did you just say?" Lottie looked back and forth between the two of them.

"You didn't tell her?" Flo asked, shaking her head at Lando. "He's booked a private plane to get you both to France. So you can be as late as you like, it's not going anywhere without you."

"You did what?!" Lottie stared at him in utter disbelief. "Is this why you wouldn't let me pay you back for the plane ticket?"

"It's fine, really." Lando dismissed her. "It's just easier, unless you want to fight your way through the airport while I get swarmed by fans."

"On that note... you two should go if you're going." Flo laughed. "Call me when you get there?" She asked Lottie.

"I will." Lottie nodded, giving her another quick hug. It felt weird to be leaving. She'd spent so much time at Flo's house in the last few months it had really started to feel like home.

"Say hi to mum for me." Flo told Lando as he opened the front door, picking up their bags and heading for the rental car he'd picked up earlier that morning.

"I will." He promised. "Alright, come on Lottie. Let's go!"  He held the car door open for her as she slowly made her way out and towards him, Flo watching on as she stood in the doorway.

Lando helped Lottie into the car, before taking her crutches so he could stow them away in the back and closing her door. Then with one last wave to his sister, the two of them headed out onto the road.

"I wasn't sure Flo was actually going to let us leave for a bit then." Lottie joked. 

"Me neither." Lando agreed. "I think she's going to miss having you around. It's been good for her."

"Ah I'll be back before she knows it I'm sure." Lottie laughed quietly. "It'll dinner good to have a break. She must be getting sick of me, I've been practically living on her sofa for months."

"You can take up residence on mine for a bit instead." Lando joked, fiddling with the satnav for a moment as he tried to work out the best way to get to his parent's house. "It's much more comfortable."

"I'll be the judge of that later, shall I?" Lottie asked. "I've never been to Monaco. I'm excited."

"I'll give you the tour, I know all the best places now." Lando told her confidently. It was the first time in a long time that he'd actually felt excited at the prospect of heading back to Monaco.

"I don't think I'll get very far on that. Aren't there stairs everywhere?" Lottie pointed out, gesturing to her leg.

"We can do the driving tour." He reassured her. There was very little chance that he was going to be able to walk around peacefully, without the eyes and cameras of everyone on him. In his car everyone would still be looking, but at least he was safe from having to sofa and talk to them all.

"Sounds good to me." Lottie agreed, stifling a yawn.

"You can get some sleep on the plane." Lando reassured her quietly, heading on to the motorway.

"I can't believe you booked a bloody private plane." She rolled her eyes at him again. "It's a good job you wouldn't let me pay for the plane ticket because I'm really not sure I could afford it."

"Trust me, it's easier." He told her again. "Otherwise it's just a nightmare trying to get anywhere, there will be a hundred photos of us in the airport online before we even get as far as getting on the plane... I hate it. This way I can stay under the radar and we get home without the drama."

"Alright." Lottie agreed quietly. "I was only joking, I'm quite excited to be honest."

"Sorry." Lando sighed. "I just... I don't know, even the thought of it. I hate it. I miss when I could just go out and do what ever I wanted to do, didn't have to worry about people taking pictures and whatever..."

"It's okay." She reached out and put her hand on his arm that was resting against the centre console of the car, giving it a squeeze. "I get it. I'm not complaining either, I just feel bad that you're spending all that money on the flight."

"Believe me, it's well worth it." He told her.

She went to lift her hand of his arm, but to her surprise he caught her hand in his, intertwining their hands as they rested against the arm rest. His fingers slowly rubbed circles over the back of her hand as he stared out at the road in front of them, chewing on his lip nervously.

"Are you alright?" Lottie asked, when he still hadn't said anything a few minutes later.

"Yeah." He sighed. "Just thinking about what I'm going to say to Mum."

"That's sounds ominous?" Lottie raised an eyebrow at him.

"She uh... I've spent months trying to convince her that it's all fine. It's stupid, because we both know that she knows I'm not fine but I just... I don't know, I can't say it." He admitted. "Flo thinks I should just tell her the truth and then Mum will stop stressing but I just...."

"It's hard?" Lottie offered when he trailed off. "Your mum is worried about you though, we all are."

"I'll be okay." He reassured her quickly, squeezing her hand. "Just need to get out of my head for a bit I think, stop thinking about racing."

"I can help with that." Lottie smiled. "Can keep you occupied as my tour guide and helping me do my physio exercises."

"I've got a gym at home." Lando told her. "You'll be ready to go running by the time you come back again."

"I'll hold you to that." Lottie smiled. "You can be my self appointed personal trainer."

"Or we could ask my trainer who does actually know what he's talking about?" Lando laughed, and she could see the tension melting away from his expression which came as a relief.

"I trust you, I think you could sort me out." She smirked. "But we'll see, I'll get to meet him when I come to watch you, won't I?"

"You're still going to come?" Lando asked, unable to keep the surprise out of his voice.

"Of course I am." Lottie nodded. "I told you I'd be there, didn't I? I'm looking forward to it."

"Me too." Lando smiled, turning off to head into his parents driveway. Suddenly, the idea of going back to racing wasn't quite so unappealing if he was going to have Lottie by his side to cheer him on.

He'd barely put the car into park when the front door opened, and after a second of squinting at the unfamiliar and unexpected car, Cisca realised it was her Son. She'd come running out of the door, still in her slippers, and swept him up in a hug before he could even get as far as opening the door for Lottie.

"Mum." He laughed, squeezing her a little tighter. "You're going to have to let go of me so I can help Lottie. I can't just leave her trapped in the car."

From the way she whipped around at his words, Lando quickly deduced that his mum hadn't actually noticed Lottie in the passenger seat when she'd first come running out. She quickly opened the passenger side door, sweeping Lottie up in a hug before she could even attempt to get out of the car.

"Lottie, sweetheart! How are you doing? This is such a nice surprise! What are you doing here? Where's Flo?" Cisca asked, as Lottie grabbed Lando's extended hand of help her out of the car.

"We're on the way to the airport, but Flo made me promise I wouldn't leave without stopping by to see you first." Lando explained.

"The airport?" Cisca repeated, looking back and forth between her son and Lottie clinging on to his arm to keep herself up right as she stood beside him.

"Yeah, you know... that place where planes come and go from?" Lando joked.

"Where are you going?" Cisca frowned.

"Back to Monaco." He explained.

"Both of you?" Cisca asked, looking back and forth between the two of them again.

"Yeah." Lando nodded. "I thought it was about time Lottie got a break from Flo, and I could use the company so it's a win win."

"Okay...." Cisca nodded, but looked uncertain. "Well, come in and I'll put the kettle on. What time is your flight?"

Lando glanced at his watch. "We've got just enough time for a cup of tea I think. We need to be at the airport in an hour."

"Alright, I'll go get the kettle on." Cisca announce. "You take your time, be careful Lottie my dear."

Lando and Lottie stood and watched as Cisca bolted back into the house, leaving the two of them stood alone in the driveway.

"Alright then... let's get your crutches and get inside." Lando suggested. "Don't let her talk for too long, we need to be on that plane back."

"As your sister said, I don't really think it's going to go anywhere without us." Lottie pointed out.

"No." Lando agreed. "But I made plans for us tonight and if we don't fly back at this time, we might miss them. And you need to get some sleep on the way back too so that you're not too tired to go out later."

"Am I allowed to ask what you've got planned?" Lottie asked curiously, slipping her arms into her crutches as he held them out to her. She started to follow him across the drive way to the front door.

"No." He shook his head. "It's a surprise."

"This had better not be another expensive surprise." She warned him. "I don't like surprises."

"Come on, mums going to be out here to hurry us up in a minute." Lando hurried her along as they made their way into the house.

They'd taken long enough to get inside that Cisca was already coming back out of the kitchen with two mugs of tea in hand for them. "Sit down, sit down." Cisca said, ushering them towards the sofa. "Oh I wish you'd called to tell me you were coming. Your dad is going to be sad he missed you."

"Sorry, it was a last minute thing." Lando shrugged, taking the cup she was holding out to him in one hand, and the cup for Lottie in the other hand.

"Yeah, you were in Ibiza the other day? How did you get back here?" Cisca raised an eyebrow, looking back and forth between her son and Lottie.

"Long story." Lando shrugged. "But we're going to Monaco. I thought Lottie could do with the break and I could use the company."

"I think it'll be lovely, for both of you." Cisca smiled. "Have you been to Monaco before, Lottie?"

"No." Lottie shook her head. "I'm looking forward to it, it'll be nice to have a break."

"You definitely deserve it." Cisca agreed. "I'm sure Lando will show you around."

"I've got the tour organised already." Lando agreed. "We'd better get going soon, we don't want to miss the flight."

"You've only been here for five minutes." Cisca protested.

"I'll come back and visit properly when I bring Lottie back from Monaco?" Lando suggested.

"Can you help me take the cups in the kitchen before you go?" Cisca asked, getting to her feet.

Lando gave her a slightly puzzled look, wondering why she couldn't carry three cups without his help, but did as he was told and followed her through to the kitchen. She quickly shut the door behind him as he walked inside.

"Mum? What are you doing?" He asked, putting the cups in the sink and turning to face her.

"I know that you're going to tell me that you're fine and I worry too much, but are you really okay?" Cisca asked, standing in front of the door as if to stop him from trying to leave. "You're all over the place, Lando. Disappearing and leaving your dad behind, then that night out in Miami... one minute you're in Ibiza then you're here and telling us you can't stay because you're going back to Monaco?"

"I uh... I wasn't... I don't know if I am." He admitted. "I'm working on it... it's not been easy. I'm sorry if I made you worry."

"Don't be sorry." She crossed the room and engulfed him in a hug before he had a chance to take a step. "We love you, we've all just been worried about you."

"I'll be okay." Lando reassured her, trying to disentangle himself from her grasp entirely unsuccessfully.

"And you and Lottie?" Cisca asked, releasing him and giving him a knowing look.

"Me and Lottie what?" Lando asked, deciding to play dumb. He knew what she was getting at. It was written all over her face.

"You know what I'm talking about." She laughed. "You two have been spending a lot of time together recently."

"You're starting to sound like Flo." Lando rolled his eyes at his mum.

"That's because we've both got eyes, we can see what's going on."

"We're friends." Lando protested, repeating his usual line.

"Yeah, okay." Cisca chuckled. "Well, I'd better let you go so you don't miss your plane I guess."

"I'll come back and visit properly." He told her. "Or you can come to Monaco and visit? Come to a race?"

"I said I'd come to whichever one Lottie comes to, keep her company." Cisca smiled. "I'll be there to cheer you on."

"Great." Lando smiled, and for the first time in a long time it was a genuine smile at the thought of going racing and having Lottie and his family there to cheer him on. "Well, we'd better go."

"Alright, I'll let you go." Cisca nodded, following him back out of the kitchen.

"You ready to go?" Lando asked Lottie, who was giving him a slightly puzzled look.

She nodded, slowly getting to her feet. "Let's go. Thanks for the tea, Cisca."

"Any time dear." Cisca smiled. "Enjoy Monaco. I can't wait to hear all about it. Make sure Lando looks after you!"

"I will." Lando nodded, following Lottie in the direction of the door. His hand automatically fell to the small of her back to guide her along, and he found himself blushing as he met his mums eye and she gave him another one of those knowing looks.

Thankfully, whatever his mum was thinking, she kept it to herself as she said goodbye to them. Lando helping Lottie in to the car and, after giving his mum one last hug goodbye, hopped in to the drivers seat and started the engine.

"Alright then, Monaco here we come!" He smiled. "You ready?"

"Ready." Lottie nodded, a yawn escaping her as she did. "Sorry, I'm tired."

"Are you feeling okay?" Lando asked, eyes flickering away from the road to check on her for a moment.

"I'm fine, just tired." She reassured him, hand sliding into his again, giving him a quick squeeze of reassurance.

"You'll be able to get some rest on the plane." He told her. "And I can change our plans, we can have a night in instead. We can start sightseeing tomorrow."

"I'll be fine." Lottie reassured him. "I'm excited to see what your mysterious plan is."

[queen-of-andor]

Jon Snow: Bravery of an injured boy

When Jon Snow decides to abandon the Free Folk and return to the Night's Watch he's s injured by an arrow on his leg. His injury is pretty serious to the point that even a couple of days later right before the battle of Castle Black he needs help in order to dress himself and his leg hurts a lotl:

His leg still hurt like blazes when he put his weight on it. He'd needed Clydas to help him don his fresh-washed blacks and lace up his boots this morning, and by the time they were done he'd wanted to drown himself in the milk of the poppy

That doesn't stop Jon from joining the fight, though. Despite the fact that his black brothers try to stop him from doing so, he's stubborn enough to decide that he will help fighting the Free Folk.

"I can fight," he insisted when they tried to stop him.

During the preparations and the actual fight Martin describes Jon using a crutch to move around. We also get a couple of mentions of Jon's painful injury:

He could feel the throb of pain where her arrow had gone through the meat and muscle of his thigh

He went downstairs himself to bar the door, trying to work some of the stiffness of his leg.

So what does injured Jon Snow does during the attack on Castle Black? He fights as an archer among his black brothers. He also acts as a mentor to the newer recruit Satin who is fighting next to him by giving him advice on how to fight and encouraging him. Both men attack the Thenns who stormed the castle's gate ( with injured Jon using Longclaw) and later pour boiling oil to enemies who attempt to reach them. It's pretty impressive for a man who can't even move without help:

Jon asked Satin to help him down to the yard. His wounded leg hurt so badly he could hardly walk , even with the crutch.

Even after the first battle of the Night's Watch vs Wildings, Jon's leg continues to hurt him but that once again doesn't stop him from preparing for the next battle:

He shoved aside the furs and sat. The pain in his leg seemed duller, nothing he couldn't stand.[...]The horn blew again, two long blasts, so he slung Longclaw over one shoulder, found his crutch and hobbled down the steps.

During the battle beneath the Wall he even commands the defense once Donal Noye leaves to hold the gate from within the tunnel( and later on when he dies). Our injured boy does a fine job commanding his fellow brothers. He gives them courage and inspires then to fight harder with his speech to them.

Once again, Martin shows how tired and wounded Jon is in order to highlight that despite all these difficulties Jon remains a fierce defender of the Wall until the very end.

The wall is mine, Jon reminded himself whenever he felt his strength flagging. He had taken up a longbow himself, and his fingers felt crabbed and stiff, half-frozen. His fever was back as well, and his leg would tremble uncontrollably, sending a white- hot knife of pain right through him. One more arrow, and I'll rest, he told himself, half a hundred times. Just one more.

[from-the-coffee-shop-in-edoras]

OK, people were very nice to me yesterday about my latest absurdly niche blorbo: Guthláf of Rohan. I wrote a little story about him (it's below and it's only 500ish words). But I feel like I can't post it in isolation without explaining myself a little better first.

The fact that he's Théoden’s banner bearer is the only detail about Guthláf’s life in the canon. But just that by itself was enough to grab my interest because I took a class on ancient warfare in college, and one of my major takeaways was that the flag bearers were often the bravest and most selfless guys in a battle. They were highly visible, highly vulnerable, and highly prized as a target for the enemy. That's not an encouraging combo, and they had an appallingly high casualty rate. And yet, the ones who pursued it did so willingly and considered it an honor!

Although Guthláf's name literally means "battle survivor", he did not avoid the flag bearer’s usual fate. He’s listed among the fatalities at the Pelennor Fields (along with Halbarad, the only (?) other named flag bearer in the books). So I wrote the drabble-ish story below about Guthláf’s experience of his own terrifying job. (I also, of course, have a full head canon about his personal life—how he spoke Rohirric with a rural accent that stood out in Edoras, how the early loss of his family drove him toward recklessness, how he was maybe in love with fellow obscure blorbo Wídfara, etc.—if anyone is interested! And I decided that he's the tall, blonde drink of water on the left below, who I believe is otherwise unnamed and is too young to be Elfhelm or Erkenbrand.)

Anyway. Story (ish) here:

Alone among his éored, Guthláf carries no weapon. In his left hand, he holds his shield, his one and only means of protecting himself; in his right, he carries his banner, a charging white horse on a field of deep green that whips furiously in the cold wind above his head.

Alone among his éored, Guthláf does not strike blows. His war is fought not with strength of arms but with strength of spirit. He has only to keep himself going long enough to let his banner do its work. To signal the direction of the charge and mark the vanguard of the attack. To be the rallying point around which scattered troops coalesce. To lead the way, like a torch in the dark, so that those behind know where to follow. He has only to keep that banner flying, set high and stark against the cool blankness of the winter sky, so that every Rohirrim heart can see that they are yet unconquered, that victory still lies ahead.

Alone among his éored, Guthláf can never hide or blend in. His banner draws the eyes of foes just as easily as friends. His every move is visible. Noted. Tracked. Hunted. The hope he kindles in his fellow riders is equaled by the hatred he inspires in their enemies, and there is no greater blow such an enemy can strike than to bring him down, to achieve with the death of one man the turning of a tide that can change the fate of thousands.

Alone among his éored, Guthláf has no hope that he will survive unscathed to see old age. Banner bearers don’t last long in times of war, and Guthláf is his éored’s fourth bearer in five years. He has only to walk the streets of Edoras to be confronted with the reality of how the lucky banner bearers end their days–empty sleeves tied up where an arm used to be, angry red scars across unprotected faces and necks, canes and crutches that will never fully compensate for crushed legs, twisted spines, shattered hips. The unlucky ones end instead in hastily raised barrows, resting eternally in the sometimes distant and friendless lands where they finally slid from the saddle, bloodied and broken and desperately looking for a loyal hand into which they could pass the banner before everything went dark at last.

And yet, Guthláf wanted this job. He fought for this job. It means everything to him. Because even as he rides to his death, charging into battle on his gray warhorse with his banner streaming brilliantly in his wake, he has never felt more alive. He has never felt so much bigger than himself. When he carries his banner, he is no longer just Guthláf, son of Hulac. He is instead the spirit of Helm, and Eorl, and Frumgar and all the great warriors of old. He is the sound of thousands of hoofs thundering together across an open plain. He is the sight of the jagged white peaks towering over the lush green and gold grasses of the Mark. He is Rohan itself, not just a man but an idea. And an idea can never be slain. When he carries his banner, Guthláf becomes immortal.

[sihtricfedaraaahvicius]

Note: Mechanic chapter 6! previous chapters are found here.

Warnings: fluff/angst/brief smut/suggestive, mention of violence, blood, drugs, smoking, toxic behaviour.

pairing: Modern!Sihtric x you (f)

summary: You returned from France after two months and found out Sihtric had been lying to you.

wordcount: 4,5k

Masterlist

'Give me one more?'

'Thank you,' you said as you gave your cab driver a tip. You grabbed your bags and suitcases and turned to face your home, ready to walk up your driveway, but you froze before you could take another step forward.

'Sihtric?' you gasped, surprised, and dropped your bags.

Your heart simply stopped upon the sight of your boyfriend, the smoking hot mechanic, who was waiting in front of your house, leaning back against a brand new mat black motorcycle as he grinned at you. He was wearing his dark sunglasses, and he wasn't completely joking when he said he considered shaving off his hair, as he had shaved off half of it, leaving his long dark curls only on one side of his head. His leather jacket was unzipped, revealing his hoodie underneath. His black jeans were old and worn, and his black leather boots were all laced up. You were stunned at the sight of him and your knees weakened. How did you end up with a guy as sexy and breathtaking as him? You were simply waiting to find something wrong with him.

'My pretty lady,' Sihtric smiled and held his arms open to you.

'W-what are you… I…how,' you stammered. You had so many questions, but you couldn't bring yourself to think properly.

'Are you just going to stand there, doll?' he laughed, throwing his arms up before he took off his shades. And you ran to him.

Sihtric immediately took your face in his rough hands, locking your lips in a desperate, passionate kiss. You tried to pull away twice, wanting to ask your burning questions, but each time he pulled you back in, kissing you intensely, simply refusing to let you go. He caressed your cheeks as he kissed you, and moaned softly against your lips, finally able to fully feel the warmth of your skin underneath his fingertips again.

'Fuck,' Sihtric breathed, before he kissed you eagerly again, 'baby, I missed you so fucking much.'

'I missed you too, so much,' you said and teared up, tugging at his jacket, 'I just don't understand.'

'You don't understand you missed me, lady?' he chuckled, holding your face firmly in his hands.

'No, you idiot,' you snorted, weakly punching his chest, 'how… why… when,' you sighed and tried to collect your thoughts. First things first. 

'Your hair?' you asked.

'You don't like it?'

'I do,' you smiled, 'but since when…'

'Yesterday,' Sihtric laughed, 'had to get a haircut before you got back home, it was a mess.'

'And… your… your hands?' you said, taking his hands in yours, and he gave you a light squeeze.

'I can feel everything again, babe,' he said, smiling, 'and yes, I can walk properly too,' he quickly said before you could ask, 'I wanted to surprise you, so I didn't tell you the full truth about my recovery.'

'What?' you frowned with a smile, 'but w-why?'

'A few weeks after you left I was able to walk without crutches already,' Sihtric said and kissed your lips again, 'remember you asked me if I'd come running to you at the airport?'

'Yeah,' you smiled, remembering that video chat very well for several reasons.

'I think I told you I was still walking with one crutch then, but I wasn't,' he confessed, 'and I already had my new bike by then,' he grinned and slapped the seat of his motorcycle.

'You're such a liar,' you chuckled, 'I can't believe you kept this all from me!' you said as you lightly punched his chest again, 'you're such a jerk,' you smiled.

Sihtric laughed and took your hands, pinning them alongside your body as he kissed you again.

'Damn, and I thought you'd be happy to see me again,' he smiled against your lips.

'I am,' you hummed, 'fuck,' you sighed and looked up at him, 'you look so good, handsome.'

'So do you, beautiful,' Sihtric smiled and pecked your lips again, 'come take a ride with me, baby?' he asked as he held your hands, hoping you weren't too terrified to join him on his bike after everything that happened.

'You don't have to work?' you frowned and circled your arms around his waist.

'Still only half days, lady, that I didn't lie about,' Sihtric smiled and cupped your cheeks, 'I made sure to finish work in time today, so I could be here when you'd get back,' he softly nuzzled your nose, 'I couldn't stand the thought of not seeing you right away, and having to wait even longer until I got to kiss you again.'

You giggled, 'stop being so cute, it's annoying.'

'Sure,' Sihtric smiled and rolled his eyes, 'come join me then? Hm?'

'Hmm… well, I really want to take a shower first. I feel disgusting after my flight,' you grimaced, 'you can wait inside? I won't take long.'

Sihtric gladly accepted your offer, finally being able to see your home, as he had never been able to set foot inside your house before. At least, not after that night he decided to go home, after he kissed you good night, only to make a u-turn back to you after regretting not taking up your offer to stay the night, which had been a near fatal decision for him.

As you unlocked your door, Sihtric went to pick up the suitcases and bags you had dropped when you saw him, and he followed you inside. 

And as you showered before changing into comfortable clothes which were suitable for a bike ride, Sihtric amused himself by wandering through your home, learning more about you through the little things he saw and found around your house.

'All ready,' you said, smiling, when you found Sihtric in your kitchen after he had helped himself to a drink.

'All ready?' Sihtric smiled, taking your hand and pulling you close, 'all ready for me, baby?' he whispered with a smirk.

'Maybe,' you giggled lightly, looking up in his duo coloured eyes, and you exhaled sharply, 'I missed you, Sihtric,' you whispered, sneaking your hands under his hoodie, feeling those delicious abs he so teased you with when you were separated.

'I missed you too, lady,' Sihtric whispered, his hands squeezing your hips firmly, 'and I want you,' he breathed, 'I want you right now, babe,' his voice became raspy. And he gently pushed you backwards into your living room, towards your couch.

'No,' you said when your back collided with your couch.

'No?' Sihtric frowned, his eyes darkened.

'No,' you smiled, 'not here,' you glanced at your couch, 'bedroom,' you said curtly.

Sihtric grinned and picked you up, carrying you into your bedroom, which he had inspected already when you were taking a shower. He threw you on your bed and you giggled. You watched Sihtric take off his leather jacket and his hoodie, showing off his toned body as well as all his scars, old and new. Then he beckoned you over.

'Come,' he smiled, taking your chin in his hand and pressing a soft kiss to your lips, 'take off my jeans, baby?' he asked with a sly smile, 'slowly.'

You did as he asked, slowly unbuckling his leather belt and pulling it out of the belt loops. Sihtric hummed softly as he looked down at you with a smile, holding your chin with one hand as he raked his fingers through your hair with his other.

'So fucking beautiful, babe,' he husked and lifted your chin up, 'give me one more?'

You smiled and sat back on your heels, pulling your stunning man in for a soft kiss.

'Hm,' Sihtric hummed softly, 'one more?'

You chuckled and gave him another kiss. And without him having to ask, you unbuttoned his skinny jeans, and he climbed in bed with you while he kicked the jeans off his ankles.

'I missed you,' Sihtric said, breathing hard and heavy as he held your face again, smothering you with kisses, 'been thinking of you every night,' he husked, 'you've been thinking of me?' he asked.

'Mhm,' you hummed as you kissed him desperately, 'every night,' you sighed and allowed him to take off your shirt.

He kissed your neck and shoulders all over, his strong arms wrapped around your body as he gently moved you to lie down on your back.

'Every night?' he smiled while he took off your jeans.

'And every morning,' you grinned as you pulled him back up to you.

Sihtric laughed and kissed your lips, his hands trailing up your arms, to your neck, cupping your cheeks. 

'I'll have you now,' Sihtric said, 'I'll have you tonight,' he winked and kissed your lips, 'and I'll have you in the morning,' he chuckled and pulled you on top of him.

You quickly rid yourself of your panties while Sihtric cupped your breasts, smiling satisfied at the feeling before he sat back up and kissed your shoulder. His lips trailed down your skin and he kissed your nipple, then teased you slowly with his tongue and teeth, softly biting your sensitive skin before he flicked his tongue against your nipple, then sucked and kissed your soft flesh gently. You moaned at the feeling and raked your hand through his hair, tugging his dark locks for more. You were too impatient. You didn't need or want any foreplay. You had foreplay for months already.

'Just fuck me already,' you breathed.

'Oh, I will fuck you good,' Sihtric smirked and licked his lips as he pulled you back on top again, 'come take me, baby,' he husked as he laid back, his hands behind his head, looking up at you with hunger and desperate love in his eyes.

'Fucking finally,' you sighed when you felt him inside you.

You closed your front door behind you and hopped over to Sihtric, albeit a little clumsy, as your legs were completely sore. Turned out that Sihtric was a complete wild beast in bed, which you didn't mind, but you weren't sure if you'd be able to handle him again tonight… or in the morning. He could keep it up for hours, unlike your previous bedpartners. It was a pleasant surprise, but also quite the workout, and you really needed a moment to recover as he made you finish three times, and your head was still spinning when you closed in on your hot mechanic. Sihtric handed you his helmet and got on his bike, with a satisfied smile as he had finally fucked the woman of his dreams completely senseless only minutes ago, and he pushed his bike off its stand before starting it.

'The insurance paid you well, I see,' you joked, looking at his new vehicle.

'They didn't pay me yet,' Sihtric chuckled.

'Oh,' you frowned, 'guess Finan pays you well then.'

Sihtric laughed at that and revved the engine a few times, then held his hand out to you and pulled you in for a kiss.

'I love you,' he smiled and put his shades on, 'you're mine, lady,' he said and kissed your lips lightly.

'I love you too, and you're mine,' you smiled and got seated behind him, wrapping your arms tightly around his waist.

'Trust me?'

'Yeah,' you said, squeezing him in your arms.

Sihtric took your hand and gave it a soft kiss, before he steered his bike onto the mainroad.

At first you felt nervous. You knew the accident wasn't his fault, but it still spooked you, being so vulnerable on a motorcycle. But the fear only lingered for a short moment, and you soon felt at ease again when you felt the warm wind sweeping through your clothes. Every now and then Sihtric would go way over the speed limit, and you had to give him a quick squeeze to keep him in check, after which he immediately lowered his speed. You had snuck one hand under his hoodie, and you felt his heartbeat the entire time. You knew he simply lived for rides like this. Speeding, but never being reckless or seeking danger, he just loved the feeling of freedom and control it gave him. And you couldn't deny it made him even sexier than he already was.

After a while Sihtric pulled up to a near empty parking lot next to a large forest area, as he needed a quick break. He was still getting used to riding his bike for longer periods again, and had to take it easy, taking breaks every now and then to give his muscles some rest.

'You okay?' you asked as he sat down next to you on a bench.

'Yeah,' he smiled, wrapping his arm around your shoulder, 'you?' he asked and pressed a kiss to your temple.

'Yeah,' you chuckled, and watched how Sihtric suddenly pulled out a pack of cigarettes.

'What?' you scoffed, 'Sihtric?'

'Yeah?' he looked up at you, oblivious, 'what is it, babe?'

You stared at the pack in his hands, and then he chuckled.

'Oh, shit,' he mumbled and shook his head with a smile, 'yeah. I smoke too. Actually,' he said, as he lit the cigarette and took a drag, 'I recently started again,' he sighed and blew out the smoke, away from you.

'Christ,' you grimaced, 'now that's a turn off,' you laughed.

'I know,' he smiled a little shyly, 'I'm sorry.' He took another drag and went on, 'I started when you suddenly had to leave, for work. It stressed me out not having you near me anymore, so far away. It made me sad, so, you know,' he held up his smoking cigarette and shrugged.

'Oh, so I'm to blame?' you rolled your eyes with a smile, 'classy, Sihtric.'

Sihtric laughed as he flicked his cigarette to the ground, stomping it out with his boot, and he was quick to down a few mints before he kissed your cheek.

'You're never to blame for my behaviour, lady,' he smiled sweetly.

'You're so… god, I don't even know,' you chuckled, feeling yourself blush, and suddenly you got interrupted by the sound of numerous revving engines. 

You watched a biker gang drive by. The infamous biker gang of your city, the Ragnarsons. You were about to ignore them, but then a bunch of the men called Sihtric's name, to which Sihtric grinned and greeted them by saluting, and the bikers all did the same.

'What the fuck was that?' you laughed, 'you know those guys?'

'Mhm,' Sihtric hummed softly and kissed your lips.

'Seriously?' you frowned, 'how?'

'I just know them,' he shrugged, 'everyone who owns a bike in this town knows each other.'

You knew of the unwritten rule that every biker always greeted each other in passing, even if they didn't know each other, but you were mildly concerned that the biker gang knew your boyfriend by name. You decided to drop it as Sihtric pulled you in for another kiss, and then asked if you were ready to slowly head back home again.

You were almost home when Sihtric had to stop and wait at a traffic light. You heard another biker approach behind you, who pulled up next to you and Sihtric. The man, whose face was half covered by a bandana, greeted Sihtric with a handshake. They talked a little, but you couldn't hear them over the sound of the engines and your helmet covering your ears. You felt a little uneasy as you noticed the man was part of the Ragnarsons, as you recognised his eyepatch from earlier. 

You held onto Sihtric tightly without noticing you squeezed him, and you watched him shake his head a few times, as if agitated. Then you saw the man reach into his pocket. He took out a few clear, sealed bags with some white substance inside, and handed it to Sihtric, who seemed to reluctantly accept it and shoved it inside jacket. Sihtric made a threatening gesture with his hand to the man before the light turned green, and then they both rode off in a different direction. You couldn't help looking over your shoulder as the distance between you and the biker grew, but you were left with a nauseating feeling.

Sihtric parked his motorcycle on your driveway and you carefully got off, handed him his helmet back and he followed you inside again. You went into the kitchen for a drink, and you soon felt Sihtric sneak up behind you, his arms around your waist. He pecked your cheek and neck, holding you tightly, and you tried to bite your tongue, but you couldn't hold it anymore. It bothered you how Sihtric seemed to act as if the whole encounter with the biker never happened.

'Was that a friend?' you suddenly asked, 'the guy at the traffic light?'

'Something like that,' Sihtric smiled as you turned to face him.

'Oh,' you nodded, 'so… what did he hand you? It seemed so random,' you tried to not show your concern.

'Just some stuff, love.'

'What kind of stuff?'

'None of your business stuff, lady,' Sihtric said, jokingly, and he kissed your lips.

'Well, now I'm even more curious,' you feigned a smile.

Sihtric smacked his lips and sighed softly. 'Baby,' he said, calmly, 'trust me, it's better if you don't know, okay? You weren't supposed to see that. And I'm sorry.'

'What's that supposed to mean?'

'Just,' he shook his head lightly and clenched his jaw, 'just leave it, darling,' he said and gave you a sweet smile.

'Was it drugs?' you blurted out.

Sihtric looked at you and licked his lips. Then he looked away and raked his fingers through his hair, groaning softly.

'Do you use drugs?' you just couldn't help yourself, the words seemed to spill out without your control.

'No,' he said curtly, 'I do not use drugs.'

'So you deal then?'

Sihtric didn't answer, he just stared into your eyes.

'Sihtric, I'm not an idiot. I know how-'

'Lady,' Sihtric said sternly, 'drop it, okay?' he looked at you with big, almost threatening eyes, 'don't pry, baby, not when I tell you to leave it. Forget what you think you saw. Trust me, it's best if you do.'

'What the fuck is that supposed to mean? I'm not prying,' you scoffed, 'you took me out for a ride, you knew I was there when you took whatever that guy gave you. You knew I could see it. Of course I am going to ask about it, you can't possibly think that the whole encounter wouldn't make me suspicious?' 

'It shouldn't have happened!' Sihtric snapped, 'he should've never fucking approached me! Not when he saw you with me, because we know the risks and we don't take them. The last thing I wanted is my girl getting mixed up in all this shit, and he did exactly that. He dragged you into it and I will make him fucking pay for that!' he spat.

You stared at Sihtric. Your boyfriend; the hot mechanic, the sexy biker and… apparently also a drugsdealer.

'What is that supposed to mean? M-make him pay?' you asked quietly, terrified of his answer.

'There are things you shouldn't know about, for your own safety,' Sihtric said, 'but I promise you,' he cupped your cheeks, 'I will never let anything or anyone get in between us, or put you in danger. Not without consequences, you got that, baby girl?' he stared down into your eyes, your back pressed against the kitchen wall, 'I will do anything,' he whispered, 'anything, no matter what, to keep you safe. I will do anything to make everyone understand that no one, no one, comes up to me when my girl is by my side,' he said as your the tips of your noses were touching lightly.

'I- I think you s…should go home, Sihtric,' you said softly.

'What?' he frowned, 'what do you mean?' he scoffed lightly, 'babe, you've been away for two months, I- I don't want to sleep without you tonight.'

His voice was calm but his eyes betrayed he was hurting, and slightly panicked. You didn't speak for a long moment, you just stared into his eyes, realising that you truly did not know who he was. 

Everything had gone so fast. You fell in love so hard, and then the accident happened and you became more or less inseparable, but you never truly knew much about Sihtric. He barely spoke about his private life, or his friends, or anything he did outside of work. You suddenly had no idea who you had actually shared a bed with all this time, if you were honest.

'Love,' Sihtric said carefully, 'don't… please don't ask me to leave.'

'I don't know who you are,' you whispered.

'What are you talking about?' Sihtric smiled weakly, concerned, 'you… you know who I am, lady. I'm your man,' he kissed your cheek and you froze in his arms.

'I think it-it's better if you go home tonight…'

Sihtric felt you became distant, and he took a step back, inhaling sharply to compose himself.

'So… so that's it,' he said, 'you're … you're breaking up with me then, like this?'

'What? No, I never said I want to break up with you. I just… I,' you paused and swallowed hard, 'it just seems that I don't really know you… how can I feel safe with someone-'

'You don't feel safe with me?' he interrupted, clearly hurt.

'How can I feel safe with you?' you asked, visibly upset, 'I don't know anything about you. You seem to be in some shady business you don't want me involved in, but now that I know something is up, I can't just ignore it. Maybe some girls are into that whole mysterious bad boy shit, but I'm not, Sihtric, I want to know the truth. And if you won't tell me…,' you shrugged lightly.

'You want the truth?' Sihtric said, wide-eyed, 'sure, okay,' he sniffed and cleared his throat, 'yeah, I deal drugs. I'm part of that biker gang and I deal drugs, it's really as cliché as it gets,' he said.

He would usually never tell this, but the thought of losing you tonight was unbearable. He'd rather get hit by a car again, hoping it's fatal this time, then walking out your door with a broken heart. 

'O-only drugs?' it was the first question you could come up with as you stared at him.

'No,' Sihtric sighed, leaning back on your kitchen table, 'there's drugs, fake passports, knives, but no guns, I swear,' he said, and continued as he avoided your eyes, 'it's just all kinds of crimes really, love. And I'm sorry,' he said, barely louder than a whisper.

'What were you thinking?' you asked, 'were you planning on hiding this forever, or…' you scoffed, 'that I would never find out?'

'I hoped I could keep you away from it,' Sihtric said as he looked into your eyes again, 'long enough until I could get out of it.'

'Get out of it? Sihtric, I wasn't born yesterday. I know you don't just simply get out of a club like that. Is that why you don't wear a cut? To hide it from me?''

Sihtric looked down at his feet, knowing you were right and he was only fooling himself here. And the truth was that he didn't even want to get out. He loved this life. He lived for it. He needed the thrill and had been part of that gang ever since he was barely old enough to get his motor licence. He didn't want to leave it behind. But then he met you, and everything changed for him. He fell in love and, for once, he was finally loved back. He was terrified to tell you all about him because he knew this was exactly what would happen. You wouldn't trust him anymore or want him near you. And the more you'd know, the more dangerous it could be for you.

'No,' he said, 'cuts are not legal anymore as it provokes fights. But we all know who is who in this world.'

'Of course. Anything else I should know?' you scoffed, shocked by the amount of lies and secrets you were finding out all within a day.

'The guy who hit me with his truck,' Sihtric said, calmly, 'it wasn't an accident.'

'What?' your eyes couldn't possibly grow any wider, and you thought you misheard him, 'what did you just say?'

'It wasn't an accident,' he said again and looked up at you, 'it was retaliation. I don't know if you've heard about that warehouse that caught fire a while back, over at the nearest city?'

'Yeah, I heard about that,' you felt yourself become furious, remembering reading that article and thinking it was ridiculous when you saw it was a feud between rival biker gangs.

'I did that,' Sihtric said, 'me and Uhtred, the president of our club, we lit that place up after they trashed Uhtred's bike because we wouldn't do business with them. And they took their revenge. It was dumb luck, the guy just happened to see me and decided to hit me. It wasn't planned, he just took the opportunity.'

You stared at him, shaking with anger and hurt, speechless.

'And… in the hospital, when you weren't allowed to visit me yet, remember?' he continued, 'they only allowed it because,' he sighed, 'because we basically run this town, and people are afraid of us. Of me. Of Finan too,' he said, 'Finan is part of it too. The Irish side of the club. He never told you anything either about me or the club. It's not his place. And,' he chuckled lightly, 'now you'll understand where all these scars come from. Or where I got the money for my new bike.'

You took a deep breath.

'G-get out,' you said with a trembling voice, 'get out of my house.'

'Honey, wait,-' 

'Get out, Sihtric. Now.'

'No,' Sihtric took your hands and trapped you between his body and the wall, 'please, love,' he whispered, desperately, 'baby, don't make me leave. I need you. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, I never wanted this. I never wanted to involve you in this.'

'You lied to me for months,' you said and tried to get out of his grip.

'To protect you, I swear it.'

'You almost fucking died!'

'But I didn't!' Sihtric said firmly as he held you in place, 'I didn't die. And I love you. Gods, I fucking love you, baby,' he continued as he teared up, 'I need you. Please. Please don't break up with me, baby, please. I… I can't fucking breathe without you,' he let out a sob, 'I don't know how to breathe without you,' he sighed and stopped fighting his tears.

You felt helpless, stuck between your heart and your brain. Wanting to kick him out and never seeing him again, as well as wanting to keep him close and safe, because he did make you happy. He makes you feel loved, appreciated and desired. And despite everything, you did feel safe with him. Even now. And the worst part was that you loved him. You fucking loved him.

'I… I need time,' you said, almost inaudible, 'I need time to process this.'

'I can give you time,' Sihtric sniffled, cupping your cheeks, 'but stay with me, please, s-stay,' he whispered and pecked your lips, 'stay with me, baby,' he kissed you again, 'I need you, I love you, I can't think straight without you. I promise my life is so much more than the shit you've seen so far, it's not always this dark, I swear. Don't let me go, please.'

'I- I love you,' you sighed, weak, allowing his lips on yours again as your hands pulled him closer, having no control over yourself. 'Sihtric,' you moaned softly, and slid your hands under his hoodie.

'My love,' he moaned softly against your lips, his hands in your hair as he pressed his body against yours, 'oh, baby. Fuck,' he groaned and kissed you, 'my pretty lady. Hm, I love you so.'

'I love you too,' you whispered, 'but I… I need time, babe,' you said, desperately trying to keep your self control, 'I need time alone, just a little,' you said, 'even if it's just an hour or so, but I need it.'

'I know,' Sihtric cooed, 'I will give you time, my love,' he kissed you again, 'I'll be going for a ride, okay? For like an hour or so, good?'

'C-come back to me?'

'Always, love,' he whispered, 'I will always come back to you.'

'Where will you go?' you asked as Sihtric wiped your tears.

'I don't know yet, honey, just riding around town. Clearing my head too.'

'Okay,' you whispered, tugging his jacket lightly, 'be safe, babe, please. Don't do anything rash.'

'I'll be safe, I promise,' Sihtric smiled softly, 'I promise, promise, promise,' he said in between soft kisses, 'I love you, lady.'

'I love you.'

You had gone over your thoughts a million times when you were alone, and your heart simply won each time. You loved Sihtric and you wanted to be with him. No matter what.

And after about an hour and a half later, you heard Sihtric pull up your driveway, and you jumped up as he shut off his engine. You opened the door and ran to Sihtric as he walked up to you.

'Baby, stay back!' Sihtric said quickly, and you stopped dead in your tracks when you saw it. When you saw Sihtric. 

'It's not mine. So s-stay away until I'm cleaned up,' he said, his face splattered with blood, which apparently wasn't his.

And his hands. His big, rough, strong hands, the same ones he used earlier that day to pleasure you so perfectly, now completely soaked with someone else's blood.

Someone who was not alive anymore right now.

That someone being the guy who handed Sihtric the drugs when you were with him, therefore breaking one of the most important rules of the Ragnarsons MC; never do business when someone's lady is around, and if you did it anyway, you would face the consequences.

taglist: @clairacassidy @finanmoghra @uunotheangel @hb8301 @bathedinheat @neonhairspray @anaeve @bubblyabs @travelingmypassion @sylas-the-grim @bubbles-for-all-of-us @andakth @bel-bottoms @willowbrookesblog @lady-targaryens-world @skyofficialxx @diosademuerte @elle4404 @alexagirlie @sweetxime @solango @gemini-mama @cheyennep3107 @little-diable @jennifer0305 @n4tforlife

[gara-les]

i thought about Rainer again (shocking, i know /sarcasm), and.

i think if you really read into it, you could read Rainer as being, canonically, within the universe of Petscop, disabled.

the long story short as to why i think this: Toneth and Roneth. (Rainer put a lot of more personal stuff in Toneth's description than other Pets', Roneth is kinda implied to be a stand-in of sorts for Mike (baby half brother, connection to cars/roads), which would Then make Toneth a stand-in for Rainer, "Because he's younger, he gets to learn from all of Toneth's mistakes. That's why he always looks both ways" implies that Rainer might've gotten hit by a car when he was younger, Rainer specifically calls out that Toneth, who seems to represent him to some extent, has a broken leg, etc etc you get my point.)

so...i guess have my headcanon about how exactly i envision Rainer's whole thing:

Rainer, by some miracle, didn't break-break his legs (as in the bones didn't like. snap), but there were some fractures in there from. getting hit by a car. some were smaller/less major, but a few of them were...pretty bad. especially in his left leg and some areas of his hips.

as i've mentioned a few times before, Rainer can't unbend his left leg all the way anymore, though he can get pretty close. this is at least partially why he uses the crutches; kinda hard to walk very well when you legitimately can't unbend one of your legs to walk with it.

Rainer deals with a lot of chronic pain, especially in his hips. there are a few positions he can't sit in for long without shit starting to hurt. some days he feels mostly fine, just aching, and other days getting out of bed feels like a challenge, and like he doesn't want to do much besides maybe code.

he struggles a lot with balance, and he can't walk without his crutches for long because his legs and feet start hurting and it makes focusing on balance harder. he can get around his house pretty easy without his crutches. which y'know. Makes Sense; He's Lived There Most Of His Life And Knows What Furniture Is Good For Balancing Himself.

even with crutches, Rainer can't do much walking. using them takes pressure off of his legs a little, and they help him get around, but his legs eventually get tired and hurt. the longest that Rainer can walk around/be on his feet for is around...an hour and a half to two hours, depending on how he's feeling.

Rainer, among his other medications (for stuff like depression and schizophrenia), also takes prescription painkillers. got prescribed them in 1994 because, despite the fact he should've, technically, healed from his injury as much as he could've by then, he still had "lingering pain" that wasn't going away. see the chronic pain i mentioned earlier.

yeah...sometimes i just think about like. the specifics, y'know?

anyway: Rainer is disabled to me, and i feel like it can easily be read as a Canon Thing, given implications from Toneth and Roneth's descriptions.

hope you're doing well, and having a great day/night, by the way!!

HELLO i love disabled rainer headcanon he is litetally Me if you think about it. even if the toneth lines didnt allude to him specifically i think its the best evidence for the theory that he’s schizophrenic as, while he does speak/type in a strange and convoluted manner, that particular text i think points the most towards some sort of thought disorder you see in schizophrenia. either way i think its points to him being disabled.

also. i am doing well! ^_^ depressive but not bad, the oven just got done preheating im gonna eat up these fries…. school and home and finding a job haven’t given me much time but i always try to respond when i can !

[justcommander]

Well, I did get asked to write a little more about my little Father and Children AU.

Some little facts about this unusual trio? Of course, under the cut!

This is long. I'm gonna warn you, this is a whole lot of rambling.

This trio won't stay a trio for long, once Lisa and Father Garcia will reach John. Michael won't be happy to see one of the two. But will eventually accept his presence.

So, we started with Michael, a little more about him. The boy is not doing too well, but is also getting better now under John's care. His hair started to grow back but won't ever be as fluffy and soft as they were before: now they're coarse and grey. If they get grabbed and pulled, they fall right off in thick tufts. His nose is completely gone and he his right leg is permanently wounded, making John's knee look perfect in comparison. So he walks with the help of a crutch. He already got cataract, because of the infection in his eyes. Those sunglasses are a gift from the priest and he refuses to take them off even for sleeping.

Why wasn't he brought to a hospital? Well, John is terrified by those places and can't be the one to bring him there, risking to have police taking him back in for being a suspect for kidnapping and harming a kid that they've been looking for.

But why won't he go back to his parents exactly? They should be still alive. And they are. However, there is a number of motives why he won't do it. He's afraid to return to them now he loos like this, they've never been very caring towards him, and yet he also doesn't want to put them in danger now he got involved in something so much bigger than him. He thinks John is truly the only one who can fight demons and he loves him a lot. To him he's more of a father, than a Father.

How did he convince John that he does not have parents to return to? Easy: He lied about his name. He claimed to be called Michael Garcia. Unfortunately for him Father Garcia manages to contact John and this leads to a lot of misunderstandings. And confusion.

He speaks Spanish, yes. Though uses mostly English because John doesn't understand it. Only when he gets agitated or feels strong emotions of any kind, he slips. Or when Amy starts speaking Latin, he begins to speak Spanish to her. And John loses his mind when they do that.

-

Amy now!

Amy was saved by John just a little too late, but not that late. When he found her, her face had already been carved out but no offering was made. John made good use of that "one bullet" by shooting at Gary, and stopping him before he could continue with the ritual. Yes he shot Gary. Without knowing what he had just done. He took Amy away from him and wrapped up her face in bandages. He narrowly got away with his life and Amy safe in his arms.

What does this mean for her? It means she cannot be exorcised fully, even if he tries, because her body is dead. There is a portal to hell in her face, but without the sacrifice it required, nothing can truly come out. What kept Amy alive was the awareness of having John there for her, caring so much. The Second Death had never happened. The death of the soul was prevented because she never stopped fighting, when he arrived. Despite the pain and everything she lost. He was still there. The UNSPEAKABLE is inside her, but his control is weak. So weak, that she takes over without him even realizing, when he thinks to be the one in control in certain situations.

This means she can use those supernatural powers, stealing them from him. But the longer she does it, the more she risks to lose herself. Every night, she is afraid he could take over while she's asleep too , that's why she does not want to take off that straightjacket and specifically asks to be restrained. John can't bring himself to do it, he's afraid of that thing. So Michael does this instead.

-

Basically they both Love John so much. He gave them a reason to live, he put his life in danger to save them so they will fight for him even if they're frightened by the cultists and by Gary. They're just kids after all. But their Father also became their father, for both of them. They might be scared, but they won't let anyone take him away. In those moments when John's life really is at risk, that's when neither of them would hesitate and jump at those cultists's throats.

Anyway, they are very hard to handle, and they know it. When john faints on the chair after three sleepless nights, they try to put him on the couch and cover him with a blanket. They try to cook, they try to tidy the place. A little apology, for realizing they've exhausted him to this point.

And I wrote way too much. I warned you. This was a ramble. Ops? Maybe I'll write more in the future, when I'll learn to write more by writing less. Gosh, I talk too much.

[searchingsomewhere]

All Too Well, Part 18

{"Don't know how much more I can take. I just know that I need to get better."}

Cw for some descriptive very mild gore? Just throwing it out there.

poly!Gojo x OC x Geto

All Too Well Masterlist

Part 17

Suguru Geto was not well.

He hadn't been, since that summer. And he was only falling further into the spiral.

The man who was hired to kill Riko was named Toji Fushiguro. Was named. That past tense was important to note, as he was no longer alive. Suguru later learned that, while he had dragged his body over to Miho to check for her pulse, Satoru had gone after the assassin. Refusing defeat and delirious from blood loss, the then sixteen year old Gojo heir had done what his peers failed to do and killed the man.

Miho was nearly dead when Satoru stumbled down there, pressing his hand to her chest to rush Reversed Cursed Energy through her body before he collapsed next to them. Suguru could do nothing but lie there between them, crying quietly. Praying to whatever god was listening. Begging for karma to take him instead of them.

The extensive damage Toji did to Miho's spinal cord had nearly paralyzed her. It took almost eight months for her to walk again with specialized care from the school doctor and Shoko. The doctors told her it was unlikely she'd ever walk without a cane.

Yes. Suguru Geto was, in fact, not well.

Everyone tried moving past it. Even Miho, who he cheered on as she was learning to walk again. Who still worried over him while telling him that she was fine, even though he caught her crying and telling Satoru she wasn't sure if she could continue physical therapy. And Satoru...he was leagues above them. The tether that had been holding him back with the rest of them had broke. The gap between his skill and Suguru's was wider than ever. They were no longer evenly matched. No longer the strongest. That was a title meant only for the white haired boy with the Six Eyes.

When Suguru tried to look at Miho, all he saw was her covered in blood. Blade striking through her chest, ripping through flesh and bone. He could still hear it. The sicking crack of her ribs shattering, the splash of her blood against the floor as it gushed out of her. She couldn't remember, but he did. At night, when he closed his eyes, he saw her lying on the ground, glassy eyes staring lifelessly at him.

"Even with those blessings, you two were still beaten by a monkey like me who can't even use cursed energy."

He couldn't eat. Couldn't sleep. Something dark had been stirring in deep in his chest for so long. It was forcing itself up his throat and out of his mouth. A nasty, acidic, bile-like taste for humanity. A humanity that used children like weapons. That protected the weak and held back the strong. That sacrificed innocent, bright lives for the sake of Jujustu society. And the humanity that required those sacrifices for the simple sake of keeping the calm-

A loud knock on the door roused him from his endless session of staring at the wall. Suguru looked over at the door before rolling back over in bed. They'd go away soon.

The door opened. Light flooded the dim room. Three shadows peeked in.

"Suguru?" Satoru asked quietly, poking his head in. He looked over at the bed. "Hey, man. Mind if we stop by?"

Suguru rolled over to face him. He tried his best to give him a smile, but it was tired. "Of course."

He knew he looked different. Gaunt. Exhausted. He briefly wondered if his appearance would scare them off. But Satoru came in anyway, followed by Shoko. He heard the soft tap tap of Miho's crutches as she slowly made her way into the room. She had cut her hair recently. It hung to her shoulders now, sweeping to the side. She was cute. Suguru knew that, under their clothes and even further under their muscles and bones, both his girlfriend and boyfriend had scars that would never quite heal.

Satoru sat down on the side of the bed. "You okay?"

His voice was soft. Gentle. I'm here, it said. I see you.

Shoko reached over his bed to open the window. Sunlight filtered in, lazy and warm. She opened the window and took a seat on the sill.

"We're worried about you," she said, lighting a cigarette. She held it out to him. He took it and nodded to her in thanks.

Suguru sat up, patting Satoru's hand. He pulled his legs up, making room for Miho. Satoru took her crutches from her and set them down before helping her onto the bed. Suguru noted the pain that flickered across her face as she moved. Miho straightened her face, smiling at him with that beautiful, welcoming smile.

"We're here for you, Suguru," Miho said, reaching out to grab his hand.

He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand. "You're the one we should be worried about, Miho. I'm fine-"

"You're horrible at lying," Satoru scoffed.

He took a hit of the cigarette, holding it in for a second before slowly exhaling. His friends were looking at him. Watching him carefully.

"I'm just...struggling," he admitted finally, "I've been having nightmares again...about him."

The four of them sat in silence for a moment. Miho squeezed his hand, encouraging him to continue. So he did. He told them about his nightmares, the spiral he was falling into. Maybe it was the cigarette, or the way they all hung on to his every word, but getting it all out there felt good. He couldn't see a way out. That's what he said.

"...by a monkey like me who can't even use cursed energy."

But he knew what he needed to do.

"If you want to live a long life, you'll remember that."

He couldn't take it any longer. Something in his subconscious snapped.

[all-pacas]

Is Houseswapped!Chase more or less apathetic than series Chase? Is he still open enough to fall in love with a patient?

Do you think he still longs a little for Cameron? Is he picking fights on purpose because it might lead to something and he secretly craves it? Maybe going to the ER isn't just about getting a new pair of crutches?

He's way more apathetic and closed off.

Even though Chase's life in canon doesn't exactly go great, he loves his job, he likes House a lot, he likes working for House and clearly imprinted on/admires him a lot. Even though things with Cameron didn't work out, they still had several years together where they were happy, and they're on okay terms after their divorce; they don't hate one another. He has friends: Foreman, Park, Thirteen; even Taub. He has House, he knows House cares about him. He has Park's grandmother. He's still lonely, he's still lacking close personal relationships, but he's not complete isolated; he's far from a lost cause.

Houseswapped!Chase? He never had any of that. He didn't have Diagnostics, he wasn't part of a team, he didn't have a mentor to imprint on/admire. He doesn't have a large circle of coworkers turned friends: I don't know what Thirteen is doing but they're not besties, and he also doesn't have Park or her grandmother. He didn't flee Australia and land in a job he loves, he fled and landed in a series of jobs that were okay, that were fine, but there's not exactly a huge difference, right? He could have stayed home and been just as successful, done the same things. He's also got permanent, chronic pain from his stabbing/clot, and who knows what other health problems. He's not addicted to pain pills, but conversely he's also probably under medicating himself, because he doesn't trust himself to not immediately devolve into addiction. Even though he's House in this AU, he's also… a different person, right? He's brilliant, he has the job, he founded Diagnostics. But he's not ambitious. He's not driven in the same way as House, it's not the same level of high for him. His job is all he has, and he enjoys it, he likes it, and he's great at it. But he doesn't get off on it in the same way as House. Can't be head of Diagnostics without being miserable!

He's probably still super prone to falling for patients, but he doesn't let himself act on it, because the last thing he wants is pity and Cameron's broken person kink really did a number on him in this universe, lol. I think they're very much House and Stacy in this universe: he hates her lowkey and resents her openly, but sometimes he does want to be taken care of (and then he hates himself and her for it after the fact). He's absolutely a passive-aggressive twit around her, and absolutely is in a cycle of self loathing/seeking her out/reading everything she says and does as insincere pity kink. Very House and Stacy. He doesn't want her to have moved on because he really hasn't, but he also can't stand to be with her because he doesn't think he deserves it and doesn't trust her motives.

Him going to the ER is partially because he's really dumb and vastly under-medicating himself/walking around with spinal damage and no aids whatsoever, he's going to paralyze himself, but also because yes, he does want to see her and hang out with her. If only because he's lonely and doesn't have many other people to hang out with. (He and Foreman probably get along pretty well in this universe, actually, but Foreman's his boss and they're not going to be buddy-buddy at work lol.)

[therandomfandomme]

Biking is accessible movement

Biking is a very accessible mode of transportation and way to exercise, however I think a lot of people don't know that, since there are a lot of countries, who don't have the right infrastructure (which is sad). So, this post is me showing y'all how biking is very accessible.

I am writing this from the perspective of someone with mild chronic pain, so I don't know the ins and outs, I have just seen all these bikes around on the streets, because here in the Netherlands they are very prevelant. I do want to say that biking is far easier on my joints than walking, except the knees, even with my unmodified bike.

An accessability feature that is not the bike itself, but often seen in traffic are the signs for hard of hearing people, which can be attached to the back of the bike to let others know that the person won't respond to audible traffic cues and to be careful.

1. Not having the muscle mass or lung capacity for intense exercise

Electrical bikes used to be mostly associated with senior citizens, however in recent years it has become more popular with high schoolers, who have to bike long distances to school or adults, who don't want to arrive sweaty at work. They can either assist you or do the biking for you. Normal electric bikes can go up to 30 km/h, but the recently popular fatbike can go up to 60 km/h (which is a hazard and should be regulated, but I digress). Every bike type that follows after can be an eletric bike.

2. Needing back support

Of course not everyone can sit on a bike, whose seating gives no support and for those there are lying bikes. Though being able to get up and down from a pretty low seat, which is less.

3. Not having the balance for biking

One big thing with bikes is balancing, which is something I struggle with (shout out to physical therapy for helping with that). Once I'm on the bike it is easier for me, but I struggled a lot with getting on and off the bike for a while as well as balancing in general, so I had training wheels for a lot longer than most of my peers.

Luckily, there are a lot of options for people who have bad balance or for whom getting on and off a bike would be more of a struggle. A fatbike already makes for easier balance, however for more aid you have tricycles for adults, which are pretty common. And an extra wheel can also be put on a lying bike.

4. Mental disabilities that limit safe independence in traffic

Not everyone can be in traffic unsupervised due to mental disabilities or brain damage, so not everyone can bike on their own. However, there are many ways to bike while having someone there for safety.

A tandem might seem like a gimmick to some, but it can allow someone to bike without needing to take into account all the moving traffic. And the dubble bike, which is more often used as a fun thing for tourist to explore a city while being able to chat, can provide the same for those with bad balance. If the person in question is smaller than the person supervising, such as a child or little person, than there is also a bike attachment for any bike with a luggage carrier.

5. Using a mobility aid

A lot of people think that you can't bike when using a mobility aid, however biking is not the same as walking, so should your body allow it, biking is possible.

If a person uses a cane or crutches there are ways to hold them in place. A walker can also be attached to the back if it is foldable. If a person is in a wheelchair (depending on what kind) then a hand bike is an option, which allows for higher speeds than moving regularly, while not taking more energy. A person with a wheelchair can also be transported with a bike, if they are not able to move through traffic independently (i have been informed that this is for kids, so thank you for that addition).

6. Lifestyle makes it more difficult to bike

Some people can ride a bike, but aren't able of biking, because they have kids, pets or need to move more stuff. However, there are ways to still use a bike in those circumstances. Popular among people in busy cities with more than one kid is a cargo bike. A cargo bike is also avaible with three wheels for extra balance and both can be electric. For pet owners the trailer is more popular, since a pet cannot jump out of it, though I've also seen plenty of babies and toddlers in them. Both these options can naturally also hold stuff.

Of course I totally understand that not everyone is able to bike and that not everywhere there is the infrastructure necessary. I am just passionate about it and I think that a lot of people might not realize that biking can be more accessible than it is often portrayed. I might have missed something, so feel free to add if you find anything and I would love to hear thoughts or just reactions :D

[prospectivehero]

THIS IS SO IMPORTANT GUYS!

First and foremost, I have two confessions. One, I haven't read Red Hood: Outlaws WebToon. It's on my list, but I will admit that I'm missing context. Two, though I talk about disability, my main focus is physical walking disabilities. This commentary should apply to every physically disabled human being if I'm doing this correctly, but I chose to have a specific focus for the sake of brevity.

I'd have very few nickles if I could have one for every time I saw a wheelchair-dependent character get suddenly healed. But it's still too many nickels. I can't blame Marvel or DC for my poor relationship with my own mobility aids. It didn't help anything to see Barbara Gordon or Charles Xavier suddenly be able to walk after seeing them for so long in their wheelchairs. Recovery and recuperation should never be scoffed at. We should celebrate when we can accomplish difficult goals and be happy for others who achieve what they thought was impossible. But these characters' changes aren't about recuperation. They're about ignorance.

Recuperation doesn't always mean full recovery from the viewpoint of a disabled person. Sometimes, "walking quickly" or "standing independently" isn't the end goal. It's usually more complicated than that. Small things like strengthening the core or practicing distance walking in a walker are crucial for someone's health or mobility. If it means they can walk independently in the process, then cheers! But sometimes standing isn't a possibility anymore. Many able-bodied people, without this context, may perceive this attitude as "giving up." I've had to explain to several different people that my choosing my wheelchair over my crutches to be a more functional human is not the same thing as quitting. But society has a model for success, and that model has a healthy set of legs.

Growing up, it broke my heart when I saw a character who had to experience a permanent and life-altering disability being suddenly cured. That's not a story of recuperation. That's a writer trying to "fix" something that was "wrong". I don't think the writers mean that as an insult. It's a terrible trope that's rooted in ignorance. But that ignorance is commonplace. It makes self-acceptance all the more difficult for a person who doesn't have full use of their body. Instead of being a person in a room who happens to use a wheelchair, that person suddenly becomes a paria because they are "physically incorrect."

Barbara Gordon, still paralyzed, marrying Dick Grayson is important. In their most standard form, weddings are supposed to be beautiful and romantic. Most of us dream about being the most beautiful, best versions of ourselves that we've ever been for one of the most special days of our lives. Barbara was the best version of herself when her father wheeled her down the aisle. She was Batgirl and is now Oracle, but she never stopped being Barbara. She is loved by her father, her adopted family, and her husband. The saccharine nature of that scene had nothing to do with a disabled woman being loved by an able-bodied man. It was a sappy, beautiful wedding being celebrated by our favorite dysfunctional found family.

I'm honestly really excited to read this webtoon. It is about Jason Todd, but the care and respect Patrick R. Young shows in this scene and how well it was depicted by Nico Bascuñán says a lot about how they handle the rest of whatever story they tell in this comic.

[urbancripple]

so. I (17) had a TBI 2 yrs ago that I'm still recovering from that wrecked my vestibular system along w a bunch of other shit. I use forearm crutches for balance and that's been fine for me and my pt hasn't recommended anything else. my mom just bought me a wheelchair from the thrift store?? not only without me asking, but with me having told her for weeks not to every time she brought it up. I have no idea what to do now? there are very very rare times when I've used borrowed ones from the mall or museum we're at on a trip where I really can't do the walking for so long, but bringing one that's *mine* just feels wrong to me when I haven't been prescribed one? idfk. looking for advice from the community ig.

I doubt a thrift store wheelchair is going to be helpful. I'm guessing it is one of the hospital-style ones that's hard to push. There are health-risks to using a chair, especially one that isn't built for you and may not have been very well maintained.

But if the chair does help you, there's nothing wrong with using it, even if the chair wasn't built for you specifically. I wrote a whole guide for new chair users, if that helps.

Either way, don't stress over it.

[bradenthompson]

The Starfield Experience II: The Freestar Rangers

While it's still fresh on my mind, it's time for episode 2 of my Starfield maiden voyage. Last time, I joined with the Crimson Fleet and got my sneaky fingies on a cool 200,000 credits. On this excursion, however, me and my first crewmate Mathis were honest men with no bounty. And we were gonna perform our community service by way of frontier justice.

"But captain," you say, a puzzled look fixed tight on your brow, "I thought you were playing an evil character." Don't you worry. I'm every bit as unhinged as I was in my pirating days. Because dialogue always gives me some completely bloodthirsty options, which I promise to choose every time. Crooked cop time babyyyyyy

De-escalation Tactics

We arrived in the town of Akila City (game is very loose with the distinction between Cities and Towns) just in time for a classic scripted Bethesda moment. We all remember walking into Solitude for the first time and seeing that guy on the chopping block. We all tried to save him, and all our level seven characters were lacerated on the spot. A storytelling crutch? Probably, but there's no reason it can't be effective. Plenty immersive to walk into a new settlement and already see some shit going down.

Just that type of shit was going down in Akila, as soon as me and Mathis got boots on the ground. Local bandits were holding up the bank, had taken hostages, and the rangers were outside trying in vain to negotiate. A tense situation indeed. Maybe two ruthless pirates who had just shot down a civilian ship on the way here can help.

I'd been pumping some skill points in speech, by now. Failed persuasion checks were getting on my nerves, but successful checks were making me feel cool. That and, on my brief trip to Neon, I had picked up a very goofy looking future suit that gave a passive 10% persuasion success. This is all to say I talked the bank robbers out the building, not a hostage lost.

While I was in town (Akila has some great music) I tried repainting my ship, thinking the Crimson Fleet colors would cause Mathis and I some problems out in space. How stupid of me to think the game would account for that sort of thing. You can land on Planet Police State with a ship painted the way only pirate ships are painted and nobody cares. Clue #1 that I could get away with a lot, within this faction system.

And speaking of factions, my success with the GalBank situation got me on the path to getting deputized.

I See You, Space Cowboy

First I had to talk to ranger Emma Wilcox, in the very cool space saloon. She wanted me to complete just one job before they considered letting me join up. Overachiever that I decided to be, sporadically, I took all four jobs the ranger kiosk had at the time, thinking I'd really impress by clearing the board. Rescued a hostage, took out a gang of spacers--real basic rng quests. The one where I had to kill a Crimson Fleet captain was funny. Mathis didn't like me doing that very much, despite us both quitting at the end of that questline. But as long as he stayed on the ship while I went out and split some wigs, he didn't mind. What he doesn't know won't hurt him, I suppose, but this begs another question: why can't I take criminals alive? Spoiler alert, but the rangers are gonna urge me to resolve problems without violence later. This peaceful justice creed does not extend to the rng quests. Okay.

But after completing all four and hitting myself bc no shit that doesn't make a difference, Wilcox saw potential in me and took me up to the marshal. Or who I have to assume is the marshal. That's Daniel Blake, pictured above, who gave me a dorky vest and a very cool pistol.

In hindsight, there's very little warmup to the questline's main problem. I was immediately sent off with ranger Wilcox to a farm that would prove to be the first victim of the overarching villain. There's this gang out in the canyon trying to 'wrassle away their farmland, say no more, we march down and make confetti outta 'em. The ship they flew in on was recently stolen from a company called HopeTech, which became our next destination.

Look Guys, Bezos did make it to space

We land at Hopetown, which I wanna imagine has a larger quest associated with it, but then again maybe that's what I'm doing right now. Seems to be one of the more intensely designed settlements in the game. We're essentially in a company town. Everyone here works for Hopetech, lives on a planet where the only thing around is their job, and carries an eerie devotion to the company and its founder. This is Ron Hope. He talks like an Oblivion NPC, which is to say too slow, and I earmarked him for death real early.

So I tell him about one of his stolen ships, he already knows, he wants me to keep it on the DL since it'd tarnish his brand if people knew ships could be stolen off the assembly line, yada yada. The conversation I was having with him here and now wasn't super important. What was important was introducing Hope as a character so him maybe/maybe not being evil later doesn't feel like it's outta nowhere. Well fuck me for knowing how these stories work, but of course he did it. I don't even know what 'it' is, as of right now, but I know it was him. Why else would we be meeting him so early? The butler did it.

We're off to Neon next, where I understand most stolen ships wind up. A player may deduce this on their own through normal gameplay; if you're one to plunder ships and sell them off, Neon is one of the places to do this. Either that or critically thinking. Neon's the only city that abjectly sucks, according to context clues. In case I wouldn't know, I'm told explicitly to head to Neon.

I head to Neon. With quickness, because now I know how fast travel works (tip: you can select objective markers while you're out in space and, should it be a system you've already been to, you'll fast travel without opening the map). Meeting up with a fellow ranger whose name I forget but--spoiler alert--it doesn't matter, I'm led to mechanic Billy Clayton, whose name I remember for some reason. He wants to help us but is currently having a Bethesda Moment (we need to do something for him first). That thing we have to do is clear up an outstanding debt with a loan shark. Alone, I march to the warehouse said loan shark operates from, don't even open up a dialogue, immediately spray the office with bullets, and return to Billy. Good news, Billy! Debt problem's been fixed!

Thankful, he points us in the direction of a noted ship thief named Grace. She's a brick wall. Won't give up nothing bc she ain't scared of the fuzz. That is until I pass a persuasion check and she immediately buckles under the pressure. Persuasion skill continues to be totally absurd. But for our efforts, she hands us an encrypted slate that, should we be able to crack the encryption, will lead us to her contractors.

The* Plot* Thickens*

It's not that I didn't know what was going on. Rather, by this point, I was certain the game would never trust me to figure things out on my own. I double-checked: there's in-universe museums that spells out a lot of the lore. Some of which being pertinent to reveals later in this questline. Odds are slim most players would be brushing up on Starfield history of their own volition, and look, I get it. Really, I prefer getting this sort of shit through questlines. But by this point I was feeling a sort of... monotony? I'm gonna be told what to do and where to go regardless of whether or not I intuit these things myself. There's little incentive to do anything but precisely what the quest givers tell me. Speaking of...

That ranger on Neon whose name I forget tells me there's someone on Akila who may be able to crack the slate. His name is Alex Shadid and, dude, I liked him a lot. On sight. He's socially awkward, dreams of being the type of person who goes clubbing on Neon which is cute, and he's good with computers. Alex was my first and really my only pick for a second crewmate, when this questline finished up.

I pass the slate off to Alex and report back to Daniel Blake. Based on clues in my previous field work, Daniel is running with the theory that the crew responsible for this ship theft (stealing one ship and harassing one farmer is still the impetus of the entire story) is one called the First. A company of veterans from the Colony War now doing mercenary work out in the stars. Daniel used to serve with them, and knows of two supposed members: Maya Cruz and Marco. Maya's our first target, as someone matching her description just booked an emergency surgery and extended stay on a space station hospital called The Clinic. Off to the clinic, then!

Two quick things before I divulge this super exciting Maya Cruz quest:

>Whenever I speak to Daniel Blake, while there's no outwardly "evil" dialogue choices to make, there's good cop/bad cop options. Do you want clean justice or do you wanna repaint the walls of your ship in the blood of outlaws? I always picked the most violent things to say to Daniel. Always some version of "I'm going down there and making orphans of all their children!" and at no point does the Sheriff think I may be a problem. He, nor anyone in the rangers, ever thinks less of me for being completely unhinged and hostile.

>I've been dabbling in the ship builder and, hey, Todd: why can't my ship have wings? Been all over looking for wing parts and there's not a one. I consulted reddit, damn you. Don't try none of that "uh but but but atmosphere" bullshit. This is not a realistic space sim, we ain't Kerbals here (that game DID have wings!!!!). Before launch, I was dreaming of what my ship would look like, and it always had wings. Let me add wings. If you do DLC that adds more ship parts, deliver me my wings plz thx.

Oh, and the Maya Cruz quest is pretty boring. There's one interesting moment where you gain access to her private hospital room and find the surgeon dead on the ground, but after that it's flying off to a derelict planet and trouncing about in a cave up to a very lame encounter with Maya, who says something or other about whatever bullshit idk. I shot her.

Polo.

Thankfully, the hunt for Marco has some teeth. There's a ranger at a remote club called the Red Mile. It's a real rough place (everywhere in Starfield is a real rough place, Red Mile, can I get ya to try harder).

The ranger in question is Autumn Macmillan. She's a Starfield NPC, so she's immediately callous and rude. I'm mean right back, so ig it evens out. She doesn't know where Marco is, but suspects the club's owner, Mei Devine, does. To get to her, we have to provide the club with some entertainment. The titular Red Mile is a dangerous gauntlet that wasn't all that dangerous bc I'm doing this at an above average level. So I run the Red Mile no sweat, Mei is pleased, tells me where Marco's ship is currently parked.

Before I leave, Autumn runs up to be and actually apologizes for being an ass earlier. I was also an ass but don't have the option of apologizing. Game unconditionally sides with me. Okay, I'll take it. Me and Autumn are cool from then on out, and I zip off to meet up with Marco.

It's now, at the top of the questline's last third, that things get interesting. I was ready for a dogfight, hearing that Marco is hiding out on his spaceship, but no. He's parked on some obscure planet and willing to have a chat. Sounds like he wants me to know something important?

That important thing is rangers are dweebs and being a mercenary is awesome. He's even ready to give me the location of de capo di tutti i capi on the condition we let him go. Since I'm ready for the story to keep chugging along regardless of my actions, I massacre his entire ship and get the final location anyway. Hardly knew ye.

With the combined slates of Grace, Maya Cruz, and now Marco, Alex Shadid has the information necessary to triangulate the location of the First. Daniel Blake orders me to head down there and raise hell. Well, not in those exact words, but it's a Bethesda game. Of course it's gonna be a fight.

The Black Rifle Coffee Company

Well ain't my predictions all fucky.

Thought for sure, with all these ranger characters I was meeting and the precedent set by the Crimson Fleet story, that all the rangers were gonna back me up in this final raid. Nope! Going it alone. Not even a ranger. Still just a deputy. But whatever, I still got my main man Mathis.

We buy some more guns and touch down on Arcturus II. Mathis and I step out, enter the large doors of an abandoned mech factory, and are greeted by the intercom voice of First boss Paxton Hull. He lays out his motivation, and I'm curious whether this was intended as a serious morality check.

In essence, the First are, as stated earlier, veterans of the Colony War. Their main point of anger is an event in the final moments of the war they were about to secure total victory for the Freestar Collective before both sides declared a truce. They're still mad about this. I'm supposed to be sympathetic to their position (maybe) as forgotten "heroes" of the war, despite their primary motivation being "well one time we killed a thousand civilians but we wanted to kill a million."

I wasn't so hot on these guys. Even as an evil character. They reminded me too much of Operative Culture. Yk, those guys who did (or maybe pretend to have done) military service and, perhaps as a means of coping with a lot of abject atrocities the US army commits, circle the wagons and perceive all violence as justifiable. Y'know who I'm talking about. Their pro-gun beliefs are based in a nonsense John Wick fantasy, or adjacently related "wolves, sheep, and sheep dogs" bullshit. Am I wrong to project this on the First, here? I don't think so. They get no sympathy from me, the guy who shoots people if it progresses the quest slightly faster. Their grudge is based in not "winning" the war by their own fucked up definition.

My character sure is one to talk but, in fairness, Mathis and I were gonna light this place up regardless of any sympathy for the First. Which we did! It's quite the gunfight. Lotta NPCs. I haven't spent a credit on ammo since.

We shoot out way to Paxton who, in a funny bit of characterization, can't help but be impressed by our ability to mow down his whole organization. He knows he's toast but wants to die fighting. Before doing so, however, he passes off a slate. The contract for stealing the ship from HopeTech (yeah, one stolen ship is still the main thing here) was ordered by none other than--

Oh, no kidding

It was Ron Hope all along! I have Mathis kill Paxton (just want him to feel involved) before throwing the bitch (spaceship) in reverse back to Hopetown. Marching right inside, we catch Ron Hope in the middle of praising a low-level mechanic for something or other. Uh-uh-uh, not gonna work on me. I KNOW you did... hold on, lemme remember. You... oh yeah. You SWITCH THE SAMPLES orchestrated your own ship theft in order to...

I'll be honest, I kinda needed Hope to explain why he's the baddie. Yes the ship theft was an inside job, but to what end I wasn't sure. If I have it correct, Ron let the First steal the ship so he would also look like a victim, which would throw us off the scent of him, and please follow along, selling farmers bad fertilizer that would demolish their farmland but leave behind soil that had a lot of otherwise useful minerals. He would then chase these farmers off their land and develop it into HopeTech... something or other. I'm not saying it's badly written. I'm sure it lines up with the lore and everything. But man, I was waiting for that [attack] prompt to pop in somethin' brutal.

But I am given a choice: take twenty-thousand credits worth of hush money, arrest him without violence, or kill him on the spot. How the other two options shake out, I can't say, because obviously I chose killing his ass dead. And his security escort! That employee he was praising earlier had mixed feelings about this. Our ensuing conversation when something like this:

mechanic: Ron Hope is dead!

me: he sucks and deserved to die

mechanic: I guess?

me: yeah

mechanic: okay bye

Now to go explain this all to Daniel Blake. Hoping he takes the whole "I killed Rom Hope" thing well, since Hope was a sitting member of the Freestar Collective's top brass. A ranger killing him would be very, very bad.

It matters very little

Sure, Daniel was pretty annoyed that Hope is dead, but I did have the slate Hope made ordering the First to steal the ship, among other things, so I killed him without consequence. I'm even promoted.

Deputy in a stupid vest no more! I'm now a Freestar Ranger in full, ready and able to take exactly zero ranger missions from this point onward. I'm given a cool spacesuit, a rifle I'm not gonna use bc I don't have any skill points in rifles, and a badge I cannot equip. Only look at in my inventory. But I am a ranger! I am a ranger! I am a ranger!

I'm shocked to find Alex Shadid cannot join my crew. Not that he isn't allowed. He's just not available to be recruited. Excuse me, I thought his introduction of "hi my name is Alex Shadid and I've never been to space in my life but oh I would just love to see the stars" was setting me up the ball. But no. And no other rangers at Akila are recruitable either. But that doesn't mean no rangers are...

Turns out, back at the Red Mile, Autumn is more than happy to hop on my ship. Yup, my second crew member is a ranger who thinks I'm dirt. Except now all her canned dialogue is eerily polite. But I say fuck it. Hop on my ship, Autumn, and let's never go back to the Red Mile again. Everyone is very mean there.

It's now me, Mathis, and Autumn, on my--oh yeah, I nearly forgot. My other reward for becoming a ranger was a brand new, probably overpowered for this point in the game, spaceship. Capacity for five crewmates. Best of all?

ITS GOT WINGS.

In Conclusion

While I can't say I was ever grabbed by the narrative, the moment to moment gameplay of the Freestar Rangers questline proved very fun. Lots of dudes to shoot, if that's your thing. It's got some engaging setpieces, takes you to a satisfying number of locations in the name of feeling big, but that's not without plenty of disappointments. The "villain" of it all feels unsubstantial, and really the whole story feels disconnected from the larger world of the game. It's got plenty to do with the Lore and all that, but at no point did it ever feel bigger than running errands. Crimson Fleet managed a far better climax in comparison, awful space battle notwithstanding. But the idea of Autumn being on my crew is funny enough to consider this a satisfying use of my Starfield time.

Next up, corporate espionage or: my god the stealth in this game kinda sucks.