#because love. because brittle bones and traumatic head injuries. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

poetofthefall · 2 years

Text

wasting away again

"You're fucking kidding me."

Jim doesn't look up from the sink. At least, Sebastian doesn't think he does, but the angle (flat on his back on the shitty sofa) doesn't give a clear line of sight.

"I'm sure I'm not," the criminal replies, voice chipper in a tight, dangerous sort of way.

Sebastian winces at the loud clang of silverware against the metal sink. He gives up on trying to look at Jim and lets his torso sink as far as it can into cheap polyfill cushions, breathing carefully. It feels like someone took a tire iron to the back of his skull- what a coincidence, someone did- and his entire body is suffering from the effects. He can't actually remember how they made it out of the carpark.

Are they even still in Scotland?

"Don't you think two weeks is a bit much?"

"It'd be lovely if you didn't question me right now, Moran. I'm not in the mood."

"...Thought you weren't supposed to let people with concussions fall asleep," he slurs to the ceiling instead.

"And I thought you were supposed to be good at your job," another loud noise, this time the ring of ceramic, "but apparently, neither of us are going to be fulfilling our obligations today."

It stings his pride, badly. Seb closes his eyes and lets out a measured breath. The bright, cheery tone Jim's affecting sounds more and more brittle as he goes on talking, and Seb's too damn tired and sore to face one of the man's moods right now. Not on top of the sensation of failure sinking into his aching body.

He wants to argue the impracticality of staying in this shithole for so long, especially through the upcoming heat wave, but silence is unquestionably the best option right now.

Suits him fine. Talking’s difficult, anyway. Seb focuses on the buzz of the street through the thin walls of their temporary bolthole, and the stream of tap water, and the tense clatter of dishes, trying to distract himself from his injuries. Eventually, the sounds fade together, and then away into background noise. He drifts, weightless, for what feels like an eternity, before something becomes obvious to him. "Bloody hate Glasgow," he mutters to empty air.

Another eternity, and there's a warm puff of air next to his cheek, sending a warning signal his mind isn't able to properly process. "Just be glad," someone says flatly, "That you aren't on its fucking coma scale."

That's funny. He should say so, but the world keeps its distance, blurring further and further out of reach until it shifts to black.

By the time Sebastian can move around without needing to vomit- two days later? three?- a penetrating, bone-deep heat has already sunk into the flat. With no breeze to speak of, opening the windows is worse than useless, letting in waves of heat from the sun-warmed pavement below.

He wants to shower the grime off his skin, but there aren't any towels, and the only clothes in the safehouse belong to Jim, who's a few sizes smaller in every dimension, even in a world where bumming some sweatpants wouldn't nab him a truly traumatic brain injury.

Seb settles for stripping down in the bathroom and wiping his wounds clean, surprised and unfortunately a little touched to find his head wound already treated. It was a matter of practicality, of course, but also a weird kind of honor; he's fairly sure this is the first time James Moriarty has ever provided care for another person.

Partially because he did a shit job of it.

Seb does the best he can with the generous first aid supply under the sink, because the last thing he needs right now is an infection- the thought of getting a fever, more than anything else, has him paying extra-special attention to the wound.

By the time he leaves the tiny tiled room, his skin is prickling with sweat. He dislikes being cooped up in general, but he hates this safehouse in particular. It's plainly one Jim never expected to use for any significant amount of time. With his faculties fully intact, though, Seb realizes that Jim obviously knows more about the specifics of their situation than he does. If he says they need to stay out of sight for a couple weeks, Seb isn't going to protest the decision.

The crime lord makes himself scarce for most of the day. Probably holed up in the master bedroom on his phone, immaculate as always, conducting his empire from afar while Seb sweats like a dog on what's quickly becoming his least favorite piece of furniture.

He can't actually find his own phone, so after wolfing down two entire cans of Spaghetti-os, Sebastian restlessly excavates the bookshelves for something interesting. It's either that or chain smoking in the miserable little chainlink-fenced excuse for a backyard.

Time passes agonizingly slowly. Sweat trickles down his neck, sticks under his arms and the creases of his thighs. Patience is all well and good, but Seb's only good at waiting if it has a purpose.

Dinner is a halfway decent concoction made from spam, canned pineapple chunks, and some bland fried rice. They're already running low on food; there's no way the supply in the pantry will last more than a couple of days. The prospect of a supermarket run (and its blessed air conditioning) actually eases a bit of the tension in Seb's chest.

He saves some for Jim in the pot. Figuring he may as well take his plate to the pile of old National Geographics on the sitting room floor, he turns the corner out of the kitchen and nearly drops it running into someone.

A switch flips, and he's halfway through the motion of finding a fun, improper new use for his fork before he recognizes the man's face.

"I wouldn't," Jim suggests darkly.

"You're… not wearing a shirt," Seb says slowly, immediately grimacing at the words. He gets a withering glare in return.

Jim is, in fact, clad in only an undershirt and slacks. More than that, Seb can make out perspiration on his forehead and clear evidence of more under his arms. He looks murderous and deeply uncomfortable. It's the least put together Seb's ever seen him, and he's slapped with another reminder that, despite everything, James Moriarty is, in fact, a human being.

"Anything else you'd like to say about it?"

Seb shuts his mouth and shakes his head, stepping back. His boss looks worse off than Sebastian feels, and it's somehow wrong, seeing him like this. He can't help noticing the way the undershirt is clinging to Jim's sides, or his lack of a belt. "Not at all."

And then, with sudden cheer, "Oh- are you a fan of National Geographic?"

For a moment, it looks like Jim is going to attack him.

Night falls.

Jim orders him to throw all the windows open in the hope of a faint breeze, but whatever pleasant effect might be brought on by the lower temperature is cancelled out by the fucking humidity. They end up eating together, half-laying on the cool tile of the kitchen floor, retro editions of Nat Geo spread between them because Jim left his phone on the bed and walking all that way was too much effort.

"At least in the desert," Seb drawls into the silence, low and lazy, "the heat didn't try to drown you."

Jim just grunts.

Seb keeps shooting glances at him when he thinks Jim is distracted. He's never seen him like this, sluggish and cross with everything and- well, seemingly miserable. On the upside, apparently, he has quite nice arms. And shoulders. And Seb likes the way his waistband cuts into his stomach when he sits hunched over, focused on the magazine below him.

Ohhh, Christ. Treading into dangerous territory, aren't we?

But that's nothing new.

And on the bright side, he's learning a lot about cicadas.

Sebastian wakes up late, irritable, and claustrophobic.

It's already too muggy to go for a run, and besides that, he doesn't want to put on his dirty, bloodstained trousers even enough to go out for a cigarette. The thought of the mostly empty pantry does cheer him a bit. While Jim mostly seems too busy for his own, he can hardly object to Seb's bodily needs.

He washes his clothes in the tub (cold knob turned up all the way) and hangs them over the shower curtain rod before shuffling towards what is sure to be an unappetizing canned breakfast.

"Good mo-orning!" Jim sings from the dinky little dining table. "Fruit of the Loom, hm? Always so practical."

It takes Sebastian's brain a few seconds to process both the contents of the living room and the fact that he's in his underwear in front of his employer of several years. Given the choice between annoyance and embarrassment, he takes a deep breath and decides to go with the first. He's not self conscious, and it's too hot for clothes. Jim had demonstrated that himself yesterday.

"I suppose you've ordered supplies in for us, then." He makes no effort to hide the irritation in his voice, but Jim seems not to care, waving a hand at the plastic bags crowding the living room floor. "Postmates," he says simply.

Seb sighs and crouches down to examine the closest one, highly aware of Jim's eyes on him. "Food, towels… Boss, please tell me you got me clothes. I can't wear the same bloody set for a fucking fortnight."

"I got you some clothes." The brunet blinks at him from across the room with a shitty little smile. He points to a mostly empty bag near the coffee table, and Seb narrows his eyes at Jim before opening it.

"These are... what?"

He lifts a single pair of bright yellow Tesco Brand Swim Trunks out of the sea of plastic, and Jim claps his hands together, shitty grin widening. "Surprise! They should fit perfectly. And I made sure they were your favorite color, too."

Sebastian has a stress headache beginning somewhere behind his eyes which, he's beginning to hope, might be a sign that his brain is finally starting to shut down, having been knocked around one too many times.

At the blank stare he receives, Jim sighs and drops his hands. "So this is the thanks I get for doing something nice."

"I'll be sure and thank you properly, if you ever actually do something nice for me," Seb deadpans, watching Jim closely. The man just shrugs and takes another sip of what looks like lemonade. Yesterday, a comment like that would have put Seb in deep shit. Today, Jim's humming something he swears is a Jimmy Buffet song.

"Why are you so chipper all of a sudden? It's not like we can just swan off to a public pool at the moment. You'd probably combust if you were forced to share water with the general public, anyways."

He imagines splashing around in the community pool with James Moriarty, floaties included, and the image is so absurd he has to stifle a snort.

Jim finishes the last of his beverage with an obnoxiously loud slurp and springs up from the table. He's wearing a T-shirt today, Seb notes with a pang of wistfulness, and… also swimming trunks?

"Come with me, Moran."

Seb throws the trunks somewhere behind him and follows with a growing suspicion that's proven correct as soon as the tiny, weedy, fenced-in yard comes into view. Approximately three quarters of it is taken up by the largest inflatable kiddie pool Sebastian's ever seen, classy and rectangular, complete with built-in seats, cup holders, and headrests.

It's nearly full at this point, sunlight dancing over the surface of the water, hose water, sure to be utterly ice cold. He twitches. Jim strolls out behind him, extremely pleased with himself. "Why not make the most of summer holiday, hm?"

Sebastian can't tear his eyes away from the pool, feeling the full force of the sun start to sink into his skin. It prickles hotly, and a bead of sweat rolls down his neck. "Of course, this isn't exactly my ideal stay, but since you got us into this mess."

He pauses, expecting a response, but Sebastian is busy rapidly calculating the amount of goodwill he's wracked up with Jim over the years and measuring it against his recent fuckup.

The math comes out about even. But Jim is in a good mood today…

Well, then. Seb's always had a death wish, it's just been a while since he's chosen to pursue it.

He sprints forward as Jim starts talking again and dives in with a grin, the widest and most shit-eating he's possibly ever managed. Jim's voice has already risen to a shout before Seb makes contact, and by the time he surfaces, Jim is nearly shrieking, cotton shirt gone transparent with water. It's got to be cold. Seb knows it is, because he's absolutely, blissfully, freezing right now, ice water streaming down his face and in rivets down his back. He lets out a shout of wild joy, just because he can, and barely ducks in time to avoid Jim's empty glass.

A much more pleasing (and terrifying) sight greets him when he surfaces again; a furious, shirtless James Moriarty headed in his direction. He floats back a bit, teeth chattering. "S-sorry boss," the sniper calls insolently, letting out a bark of laughter as Jim puts a single foot in, gasps, and freezes.

"What, you gonna let me get away with that?" Seb teases unwisely, flashing a toothy grin. He splashes a wave of water in the criminal's direction.

If he dies here, he dies here. At least he'll go down shivering.

[part one] you are here, written by me

[part two] <-- written by @mathematicallyinsignificant

#sherlock #mormor #jim moriarty #sebastian moran #a heatwave fic!#part two is pure filth. if seb doesn't get himself drowned first #originally written in 110 degree heat #my writing

39 notes · View notes

mxraxi · 4 years

Text

Date: July 28th, 2020

Something gained (pt 2)

𝙏𝙒: 𝘒𝘪𝘥𝘯𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘳𝘢𝘱𝘦, 𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘱𝘩𝘺𝘴𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘭 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘣𝘢𝘭 𝘢𝘣𝘶𝘴𝘦, 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘶𝘮𝘢, 𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘮𝘶𝘵𝘪𝘴𝘮

𝙂𝙚𝙣𝙧𝙚: 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘴𝘵

Both her body and her sleep were fucked up. Those men never grew tired, not only abusing her over and over again -making it unattainable to rest, if that was even possible because of the constant pains, thoughts and new fears-, but also kicking her, slapping her, throwing her to the ground one… two… seven… ten times.

Astrid was now extremely weak, malnourished and dehydrated. That dragon venom didn’t help either. It was making everything much worse; and she swore it was just a matter of time before it killed her.

Her mind was also messed up, replaying the insults repeatedly, panicking even at the subtlest of noises; horrible thoughts about death, frightening faces and monsters. She had no idea why her head had suddenly created those horrendous scenarios and images. Maybe because of her constant state of fear. Either one way or another, every inch of her was now ruined, and she knew that.

Steps were now approaching. She knew what was coming:

Endless hours of torture.

‎ ‎‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎▪︎

Laughing and mocking her, the Vikings cleaned themselves up, throwing her against the wall one last time before leaving her there. She no longer tried to stop them, too weak to even make an effort. Her clothes now dirty and in such a terrible state. Her wrists still tied up and her mouth still covered from the day she arrived, Astrid wondered if she would ever remember how to laugh, how to walk, how to speak…

Would she even get out of there?

And as she drifted into a big dark nothingness once again, she could have sworn she heard an annoyingly familiar voice, and the unequivocal sound of the plasma blast of a certain Night Fury.

‎ ‎‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎▪︎

“Oh gods…”

“SHE’S BREATHING! EVERYONE, WE NEED TO…“

“Hold on Astrid. Stay with me please”

“Shit”

“We need Gothi, NOW! HURRY UP AND…”

Nothing

Her head was resting on top of something warm and soft. A pile of clothes maybe? Trying to steady her breathing, she made a big effort to open her now heavy eyelids, and shut them back immediately after the sudden bright light almost blinded her. Every bit of her body ached, her head feeling like a thousand axes were hitting it nonstop. She also noticed bandages all over her legs, arms, torso, feet…

Had she really been injured that badly?

She heard voices in the distance, but the buzzing in her ears was too loud to ignore it. Astrid then realized she was covered from head to toe in some sort of icy-cold water, –that was most likely sweat- and a sudden sensation of nausea invaded her empty stomach. Feeling worse and worse after each passing second, she tried to move, failing miserably.

The sudden deliberation of not knowing where she was or who were the ones talking from afar made her efforts stop at once. What if they wanted to hurt her like those other Vikings? The smallest of movements and they would know she was awake. Not again. Please.

All of these thoughts – and the ear buzz too- were preventing her from hearing steps getting closer and closer. A hand came out of nowhere, making a sudden contact with her skin and she lost it. Using some sort of inner power she didn’t know she had, she opened her mouth, gasping and letting out a small but painful sob. Whoever tried to touch her did not expect this to happen, and removed his extremity as fast as possible, moving back.

Silence

“…A-Astrid?”

𝘏𝘪𝘤𝘤𝘶𝘱

She painfully opened her eyes, now getting accustomed to the light. It took her a few seconds to process everything surrounding her: Ruff, Tuff, Snotloud, Fishlegs… they were all there. And Hiccup, a few inches closer was now staring back at her, astonished and fearful. When he grasped the fact that she was actually awake, he almost ran to where she was, not being able to hold himself.

“Oh Th-Thor Astrid, you- you’re awake. Gods I-I thought I-“

She flinched at the sudden reach, muscles tensing up again. Why was her body doing this? He was Hiccup for fucks sake. She knew he wouldn’t even dare to hurt her.

But it seemed like her body could not comprehend that.

Her unexpected reaction made the boy stop abruptly. Shocked, as everyone else in the room, he tried to approach again, slower, tears now forming in his eyes.

“…It- It’s me…Hiccup” he cried “Love, no one’s gonna hurt you anymore… please…”

He reached the edge of the bed, and as gently as he could, he sat down, trying to reach out for her hand.

And so she broke down in tears.

She was furious, frustrated, desolated… Why her? Why did this happen to her? They took away her soul, her humanity, erasing every trail of happiness, reducing her to nothing. She was dead inside, feeling like a corpse; like a bunch of bones. Worthless, weak, empty… a piece of insignificancy.

And as a heartbroken Hiccup held her now thin and brittle body, him sobbing uncontrollably as well, blaming himself for all she had been through, his head hit hers, now awfully hot and covered in sweat. Her hair was notably wet as well.

“Oh my gods, Astrid, you’re burning up!” Hiccup gasped, a rush of trepidation taking over him. He stood up almost immediately, grabbing a towel and placing it against her forehead. Gothi started moving as well, handing her a glass of water. She tried to support herself with her arms, collapsing immediately because of how fragile her whole body was. One of the twins took notice –Astrid could not tell which of the two; her vision still a little bit blurry, her mind still trying to digest everything- and went rushing to her side to help her sit, getting a hold of her arms and back, pushing her up steadily but firmly. Now holding the glass for her and placing it at her mouth opening– an action that was impossible for the girl to do given her condition- her friend helped her swallow the liquid.

Hiccup glanced back, just the plane view of her current state making his heart shrink and break into little pieces. Steady and calm –as calm as he could be- he grabbed both her hands, rubbing his thumbs against them.

“Darling, we were nursing your injuries and noticed a deep dark bruise at the bend of your left elbow. There are some red dots too, like- like- like if they s-stuck needles all over… that… is-“

“What he’s trying to say, girl, is that if there’s something else they did that may cause you future problems you need to tell us so we can nurse it, and then you can heal properly” Gothi said, approaching the couple with her arms loaded with bottles.

Yes, there was one thing:

The venom.

Astrid wasn’t exactly sure how serious that could be, since it had not killed her, but it was definitely the cause of what she was feeling now. She needed to let Gothi know. She surely had some potion that could help.

But for some unknown reason, Astrid was not able to say a word. Not because there was something wrong with her vocal cords, –she was sure they were just fine- but because her brain seemed to be unable to make her open her stupid mouth and talk.

Everyone looked at her expectantly, waiting for her to say something; but when seconds passed, and she was not even trying to speak, they realized something was not right.

“A-Astrid? Does your throat hurt? Is there-“

“Hiccup, come with me for a second” Gothi said

The old lady took the boy outside. When she was sure no one was able to hear them, she started to verbalize her thoughts.

“Listen Hiccup, I know this might be hard but usually, after a traumatic experience, a person can develop some type of mutism”

“… so you’re telling me that-“

“Let me finish. We don’t know what happened there, but because of her scars and injuries I have an idea. The bruise might be because they actually injected her with some sort of substance. I’m guessing it was venom, and I know how to treat that so don’t worry about that for now. What I will ask you is to please help her as much as you can. Both emotionally and mentally. You may be the only one she trusts right now.��

Astrid, the girl who was always strong and ready to help no matter what, was now in need of what she always offered to others. As hard as it was to digest, Hiccup knew he had to be there for her. He was not losing her again.

𝘼/𝙉: 𝘚𝘰 𝘪𝘮 𝘨𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘸𝘰 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘴? 𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘧𝘢𝘯𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘬𝘴𝘣𝘥𝘭𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘮 𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘧𝘪𝘦𝘥 𝘯𝘨𝘭, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘪 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘪𝘵𝘴 𝘰𝘬? 𝘩𝘦𝘩𝘦

#hiccstrid #astrid hofferson #fanfic #fanfiction #hiccstrid fanfic #angst #httyd #triggering content #writing #hiccup #hiccup haddock #hurt/comfort #fandoms #httyd rtte #rtte #hiccstrid angst #hiccstrid angs

29 notes · View notes

ravenvsfox · 7 years

Note

I know you have already done a lot of the ship posts (and they are all phenomenal and accurate af) but can you pretty please do Jesper and Wylan from six of crows/crooked kingdom? Xoxo

I’m SO sorry this took so long, you’re such an absolute sweetheart and also christ I’ve never been called an inspiration before holy.. god

also heck i love wesper this is a treat

SEND ME A SHIP AND I’LL TELL YOU…

who is more likely to hurt the other?

don’t.. do this

they’re genuinely so good neither of them would ever TRY to hurt the other, and they’re both so tender and apologetic if they ever do. I think I’m gonna have to say jesper though just because. he’s still a little stirred by his addiction (to trouble! to bringing two guns to a gun fight! to gambling! to love!) and he’s got some jealousy and sensitivity baked into him, bless him. I feel like he’d run a risk and break Wy’s heart by accident, a little bit

who is emotionally stronger?

a genuine toughie bc they’ve both survived and persevered so MUCH. I think in terms of immediate reactionary instincts, Jes is better at letting bad vibes roll right off of him. He’s made of smiles. He’s trouble and a good time rolled into a waistcoat. If you insult him he only gets stronger. Wy was raised in silk and champagne but he was raised BY an absolute monster so. he’s a very bruised peach. criticism pierces him v easily. Though in a more fundamental way, wylan has fashioned his past trauma into a shield. by the end of ck he’s building himself new emotional strength with his bare hands

who is physically stronger?

ohhh man. They’re both noodle boys. Wylan is too smart for exercise. Jesper does his fighting at a 20 metre distance from his target. Jesper is bigger than wylan but most of his size is gangly and delightful and awkward. I think jes could probably still beat wylan in a pinch, but I’m more caught up in how funny it would be to see them try to fight it out

who is more likely to break a bone?

man I’m tempted to say jesper just bc he seems like he would be...... brittle. I think he gets into scrapes a lot. I think wylan starts to get into p frequent scrapes by nature of being the sixth crow. I think the both of them are so busy worrying about each other’s fights that they neglect their own and trip off a building or smth

who knows best what to say to upset the other?

I think wylan can be a nasty piece of work when he’s pissed enough. like he may be a silk eared puppy but he’ll chew your shoes and track mud around if you forget to feed him. jesper doesn’t have a malicious bone in his body man, I think he’s a sarcasm queen and a joker but he’s definitely not mean

who is most likely to apologize first after an argument?

I think jesper’s constantly assuming he did something wrong and he sits down with wylan 100% serious like ‘babe.. im so, so sorry. I never wanted to be the sort of person who made you look sad like that, we’re past that, I truly made a promise--’ and wy would be like ‘what no I was sad bc a screw on my flute is loose and I couldn’t practice today’. but also yeah if it’s a serious fight they make up in a rush, and they laugh at themselves, and they use their energy for something better

who treats who’s wounds more often?

here’s the thing about the crows man, they’re always sustaining minor injuries as a team and it’s a win if they live, right? All I can picture is the roar of activity when they pull off a job and they come back limping and bleeding and swearing and crowing w joy, and jes and wy take their seats opposite each other and clean wounds, kiss foreheads, smooth back sweaty curls, squeeze hands, make promises. the routine, u kno

who is in constant need of comfort?

uhhh both of them (it’s always both my guy jot that down). Wylan has 16 years of shitty imposed self loathing to unlearn, and traumatic experiences all over him. jes has lost a lot (including his mom) and he struggles with addiction so like. yeah they both need comfort. they both wake up w the phantom feeling of a mother’s arms around their shoulders. they’ve both seen the very worst of humanity. They’re just two nervy, high stress kids trying to figure things out

who gets more jealous?

lmao WYLAN VAN ECK did y’all read his scenes in crooked kingdom that boy is NOT SHARING. he glared real holes in kuwei’s head guys. jesper tbh is a terrible flirt and a HANDFUL and wylan is happy. to have his hands full. no one else.

who’s most likely to walk out on the other?

mmm nahhh

who will propose?

u bet ur ASS it’ll be jesper. Imagine wylan’s blushing face...... he’d do it for that alone. tbh there’s probably a point in their relationship where jesper’s outrageous flirting isn’t enough to get that pretty blush from wylan like he’ll roll his eyes and shove jes in the shoulder and w/e but they have to have increasingly ridiculous conversations about kinks or w/e until that blush comes out. jesper’s like ‘dang. guess I gotta step up the romance. what’s the most romantic thing? marriage? marrying wylan? son absolutely where do i sign’

who has the most difficult parents?

lmao lm a o lmaooo Lmao LMAO lmao

who initiates hand-holding when they’re out in public?

I feel like depending on the social climate of Ketterdam, hand holding might not be on the table?? especially for two criminals associated w the bastard of the barrel like idk man I can’t picture it. they don’t want to draw attention to themselves (well i mean. jes wants to. but they can’t). I think they’re all about sly glances and the most obvious smirks you’ve ever seen, and brushing shoulders!! brushing shoulders are their makeouts

who comes up for the other all the time?

they’re always together man bf’s that blow shit up together and live together stay together so like they rarely have the opportunity to talk about each other. howEVER jesper probably mentions his boyfriend in the middle of a hand of poker w an inappropriate smile or gushes to w/e prisoner he’s breaking out of jail or makes Kaz’s day weird by trying to confide in him

who hogs the blankets?

wylan is exhausted w luxury and jesper is a child who wants to be held so he rolls over and then over again so that wy always wakes up to a lapful of boyfriend and a roll of blankets and he has to wait for jesper’s heavy sleeper ass to arise so he can get up to pee

who gets more sad?

booooth -- jesper is understated sad with a side of unnerving frowns, wylan is a wobbling mouth and clenched fists. Sometimes they stay in the Wylan Van mansion and lock the doors so the maids can’t come in, and they bring the lavish decorative pillows into a heap on the carpet and feed each other sweets and rub each others backs and laugh and laugh the darkness away. wylan sketches. jesper poses. there’s scheming & kaz impressions. jesper is a storyteller and he imagines out loud what nina or inej are up to at that very minute, controlling gravity and hearts and the sea and their lives

who is better at cheering the other up?

see above ^^ they both go pro at the comfort olympics. Jesper is that little bit better though. He’s a sweetheart with all the right words in his pockets. He knows how to chop wylan’s dad down like the overgrown dead tree that he is. he knows how to flirt a smile onto wy’s face. he maybe lacks delicacy sometimes, but he’s so fun and wholehearted and warm that he can’t really go wrong

who’s the one that playfully slaps the other all the time after they make silly jokes?

this is canon y’all, jesper is a lecherous bastard and wylan is equal parts disdain and delight. he absolutely will slap a boy

who is more streetwise?

god bless wylan but he knows a hell of a lot less about the streets than jes. He’s learning fast by the end of ck, but he’s still very sheltered in a lot of ways. Jesper has a few years under his belt, and he’s.. like tbh he’s a part of a gang so. He’s seen a lot. He’s participated in a lot. He has a pretty steep list of kills, same as every other survivor out there. He’s detached from the deaths but he’s been on the other side of a lot of bullets that have crumpled people up and thrown them in the trash. He knows his business, too. He knows Ketterdam. Well. Wy knows the half of it Kaz wants him to see.

who is more wise?

Wylan is utterly brilliant and Jesper is wholeheartedly here for it. What was that line again? ‘you’re cuter when you’re smart’? Wylan can think his way out of just about anything, the world belongs to him. jsyk

who’s the shyest?

Wylan absolutely what a sweetie. I mean a lot of it stems from unfortunate self esteem issues and a history of being burnt but a lot of it is pure soul deep candy sweet embarrassment and not knowing what to do w his own cute face. He doesn’t know how to deal w people a lot of the time. he knows sheet music & formulas. he does not know how to look at a boy with beautiful lips all curled up at him and not pass out

who boasts about the other more?

jesper is loudmouthed usually and he’s that much more loudmouthed when he’s in love, catch him talking to anyone who will listen about wy’s stupid face

who sits on who’s lap?

jesper would definitely try it, don’t even test him, he would fold all his crane limbs into wylan’s lap and say ‘hello peaches’ and wylan would have to slide both of them onto the floor to escape his embarrassment. on a good day, jes’ll scoop wylan into his lap and he’ll feel quiet, for a while

#i love them #six of crows #wesper #six of crows hc #crooked kingdom #hc #long post #like really long #Anonymous #ask

334 notes · View notes

frankgiunta · 5 years

Text

10 Motorcycle safety tips for new riders

https://frankgiunta.com/10-motorcycle-safety-tips-for-new-riders/

10 Motorcycle safety tips for new riders

Expert advice for first-time and returning riders

Published: April 2013 by Consumer Reports

Motorcycles are fun and fuel efficient. That’s not news to anyone who’s ridden one. But neither is the fact that they’re also way more dangerous than a car. The cold reality is that motorcyclists are 30 times more likely to die in a crash than people in a car, according to the Insurance Institute for Highway Safety (IIHS). And nearly half of all motorcycle deaths are the result of single-vehicle crashes.

The numbers are even scarier for older riders, who are increasingly taking up or returning to motorcycling after many years. Because of slower reflexes, weaker eyesight, more brittle bones, and other disadvantages, riders over 60 years old are three times more likely to be hospitalized after a crash than younger ones.

Still, many enthusiasts enjoy a lifetime of riding without injury. The key to optimizing your odds is to be prepared and avoid risks. Keep in mind that 48 percent of fatalities in 2010 involved speeding, according to the IIHS, and alcohol was a factor in 42 percent. Eliminate those factors and you’ve dramatically reduced your risk.

Don’t buy more bike than you can handle. If you’ve been off of motorcycles for awhile, you may be surprised by the performance of today’s bikes. Even models with small-displacement engines are notably faster and more powerful than they were 10 or 20 years ago.

When shopping for a bike, start with one that fits you. When seated, you should easily be able to rest both feet flat on the ground without having to be on tiptoes. Handlebars and controls should be within easy reach. Choose a model that’s easy for you to get on and off the center stand; if it feels too heavy, it probably is. A smaller model with a 250- to 300-cc engine can make a great starter or commuter bike. If you plan on doing a lot of highway riding, you might want one with an engine in the 500- to 750-cc range so you can easily keep up with traffic. (Before buying, see our report on motorcycle reliability and owner satisfaction.)

Invest in antilock brakes. Now available on a wide array of models, antilock brakes are a proven lifesaver. IIHS data shows that motorcycles equipped with ABS brakes were 37 percent less likely to be involved in a fatal crash than bikes without it. “No matter what kind of rider you are, ABS can brake better than you,” says Bruce Biondo of the Virginia Department of Motor Vehicles Motorcycle Safety Program.

The reason is simple: Locking up the brakes in a panic stop robs the rider of any steering control. That can easily lead to a skid and crash, which can result in serious injury. ABS helps you retain steering control during an emergency stop, and it can be especially valuable in slippery conditions.

This critical feature is now standard on many high-end models and adds only a few hundred dollars to the price of more basic bikes. You may be able to offset some of the cost with an insurance discount. Either way, we think it’s a worthwhile investment in your safety.

Hone your skills. As Honda’s Jon Seidel puts it, “There is nothing we could say or advise more than to go find a Motorcycle Safety Foundation (MSF) riding course in your area. That’s critical, absolutely critical.” An MSF course or similar class can teach you the basics, as well as advanced techniques, such as how to perform evasive emergency maneuvers. The cost ranges from free to about $350. An approved safety course may make you eligible for an insurance discount and, in some states, to skip the road-test and/or the written test part of the licensing process. Some motorcycle manufacturers offer a credit toward the cost of a new motorcycle or training if a rider signs up for an MSF course. The MSF website lists about 2,700 locations for such courses around the United States.

“It is absolute insanity to repeal helmet laws,” says Orly Avitzur, M.D., a Consumer Reports medical adviser.

Use your head. Yes, helmets are an emotional topic for some riders. But the facts show the risk. Riders without a helmet are 40 percent more likely to suffer a fatal head injury in a crash and are three times more likely to suffer brain injuries, than those with helmets, according to government studies.

When Texas and Arkansas repealed their helmet laws, they saw a 31- and 21-percent increase in motorcycle fatalities, respectively. “It is absolute insanity to repeal helmet laws,” says Orly Avitzur, M.D., a neurologist and a Consumer Reports medical adviser. “Because helmets do save lives, it is insanity to expose the skull and the brain to potential trauma that could be prevented or at least mitigated.”

A full-face helmet that’s approved by the Department of Transportation is the best choice. (Look for a DOT certification sticker on the helmet.) Modern helmets are strong, light weight, and comfortable, and they cut down on wind noise and fatigue. Keep in mind that helmets deteriorate over time, and may not be safe even if they look fine. The Snell Memorial Foundation, an independent helmet testing and standards-setting organization, recommends replacing a helmet every five years, or sooner if it’s been damaged or has been in a crash. Beyond potential deterioration due to aging and exposure to hair oils and chemicals, Snell points out that there is often a notable improvement over that time in helmet design and materials.

Wear the right gear. Jeans, a T-shirt, and sandals are recipes for a painful disaster on a bike. Instead, you want gear that will protect you from wind chill, flying bugs and debris, and, yes, lots of road rash if you should slide out. For maximum protection, go for a leather or other reinforced jacket, gloves, full pants, and over-the-ankle footwear, even in summer. Specially designed jackets with rugged padding and breathable mesh material provide protection as well as ventilation for riding in warm weather. You’ll also want effective eye protection; don’t rely on eyeglasses or a bike’s windscreen. Use a helmet visor or goggles. And keep in mind that car drivers who have hit a motorcycle rider often say they just didn’t see them, so choose gear in bright colors.

Be defensive. A recent study by the University of South Florida’s Center for Urban Transportation Research found that in collisions involving a motorcycle and a car, car drivers were at fault 60 percent of the time. So, you need to be extra alert, especially in this age of epidemic phone use and texting behind the wheel. Keep an eye out for cars suddenly changing lanes or pulling out from side streets. And don’t tailgate; keeping a safe following distance is critical, both to ensure you have enough stopping distance and so you have time to react to obstacles in the road. An object that a car might easily straddle could be a serious hazard when on a bike.

Avoid bad weather. Slippery conditions reduce your margin for error. Rain not only cuts your visibility but reduces your tires’ grip on the road, which can make cornering tricky. If you need to ride in the rain, remember that the most dangerous time is right after precipitation begins, as the water can cause oil residue to rise to the top. And avoid making sudden maneuvers. Be especially gentle with the brakes, throttle, and steering to avoid sliding. When riding in strong side winds, be proactive in anticipating the potential push from the side by moving to the side of the lane the wind is coming from. This will give you some leeway in the lane, should a gust nudge you.

Watch for road hazards. A motorcycle has less contact with the pavement than a car. Sand, wet leaves, or pebbles can cause a bike to slide unexpectedly, easily resulting in a spill. Bumps and potholes that you might barely notice in a car can pose serious danger when on a bike. If you can’t avoid them, slow down as much as possible before encountering them, with minimal steering input. Railroad tracks and other hazards should be approached as close to a right angle as possible, to reduce the chances of a skid.

Be ready to roll. Before each ride,do a quick walk-around to make sure your lights, horn, and directional signals are working properly. Check the chain, belt, or shaft and the brakes. And inspect the tires for wear and make sure they’re set at the proper pressure. Motorcycle mechanics we’ve spoken with say they routinely see worn-out brakes and improperly inflated tires that greatly increase safety risks. When tires are under-inflated, “handling gets really hard, steering gets hard, and the bike doesn’t want to lean,” says Mike Franklin, owner of Mike’s Garage in Los Angles.

Motorcycle Accident Lawyer Texas

Automobile and motorcycle accidents are the leading cause of personal injury and death in the U.S., with almost three million injuries and over 40,000 deaths each year. If you or a loved one has been involved in a motor vehicle accident because of the negligence of others, you may be entitled to payments for personal injury or wrongful death. We may be able to help you to recover payments for medical and funeral expenses, lost wages, physical pain and emotional suffering, disability, and future losses.

Even though someone is wearing a helmet at the time of the accident, the motorcycle rider or their passenger can be severely injured, even killed, when the motorcycle is hit by a motor vehicle weighing thousands of pounds more than the bike. Often the motorcyclist’s injuries are catastrophic, such as a spinal cord injury like a broken neck or back, resulting in permanent paralysis from the neck down (“quadriplegia”) or from the waist down (“paraplegia”). The motorcyclist may suffer broken arms, legs, ribs, and other bones. Even though the motorcyclist was wearing a helmet at the time of the accident, it is still possible for him or her to suffer traumatic brain injury by the brain’s hitting against the inside of the skull. The motorcyclist may also suffer severe friction burns by being dragged along the asphalt or pavement for any distance. You also risk the possibility of a ruptured fuel tank catching fire, causing you to be severely burned (“thermal” burns).

If you have been injured in a motorcycle accident, it is imperative that you call us today at Giunta Law.

#150

0 notes