#he also asked if I’d be willing to move closer despite me living 30 minutes away

[bich-the-moss]

I think I failed my personality test 🫡

[lerbts]

The 8th Sibling

You smiled slightly at the sight of Vanya hanging out with not just Klaus and Allison, but Luther and Diego as well in the living room. It warmed your heart to see your so often neglected sibling get the love she deserved. 

You ignored the pang telling you to go join them and opted to hang in the shadows as you usually did. It wasn't that you were flat out ignored by the others; instead your ability just..wasn't helpful in combat. Until everything with Vanya happened. Luther wouldn't talk to you for 3 weeks after you refused to force Vanya into a manufactured calm. 

You'd always been closer to her than the others, save maybe Five at the time; like Hell were you going to betray her trust and manipulate her like that just because their neglect had forced her to such a frenzied state. Yours too though you tried to be there. 

You straightened a bit, and looked away nervously as Klaus brushed his fingers over Vanya's neck causing her to squeal. Your cheeks already starting to burn, you ducked your head and dissapeared as quietly as you had arrived, completely unaware of the perceptive eyes keeping watch of your every move. 

The next time it happened was family movie night. No getting out of that, typically squeezed between Klaus and Diego as you were but luckily the popcorn bowl was empty and you all but yelped as much as you swiped the bowl and were gone, your tiny frame letting you slip away as Allison scribbled at Luther's ear. 

A pop followed by a flash of blue you knew all too well and you willed your face to cool as you turned your back so you wouldn't have to face Five. 

"Why do you keep doing that?"

"Doing what?"

"...You know what. I'll spell it out if I have to but I guarantee you won't like it if your current state is any indication."

You barely held back your shiver at Five's smug tone but put your love of acting to good use as you put the kettle on. You'd need some sugary milk tea to get you through this shit and calm you down afterwards you could feel it. 

"I've got no idea what you're talking about."

You claimed innocently, and Five hummed from behind you as you grabbed a bag of microwavable popcorn and moved to cook it.

"Oh you don't?" 

Five stood in your path and you fought the urge to squirm under his scrutinizing stare. He'd always been closer with Vanya so why was he taking such an interest in you now? The defensive voice in you wanted to ask but the kindness you typically felt made you instantly tell it to shut up instead. You pasted on a vaguely confused smile. 

"Nope! I just need to put this in...one sec okay?"

You gently maneuvered your small frame around his and were relieved when he let you pass silently. You put the bag in and set the time without incident for 3 minutes and 30 seconds and when you went to walk past him again, squealed and hopped away as his nimble fingers squeezed your waist. Suddenly, as if by magic, you were red again. 

A smirk bloomed across his face as he seemingly got the reaction he wanted. 

"It is the tickling isn't it? I thought it was the bonding in general and I think that may be it to a lesser extent...but it's definitely the tickling itself that makes you so jumpy and flustered."

You went silent and refused to meet his gaze, leading to him prodding you verbally. 

"I'll be more direct. Why do you run away the second any kind of tickling-"

He blinked as you suddenly covered his mouth and you finally met his gaze, your own with a wild glint. 

"I'll tell you if you just please stop saying it!"

You squeaked as you realized what you'd done and scrambled away much to his amusement to where your tea was being made, pouring the hot water into your waiting cup and loading it with sugar to distract yourself.

"Even the word gets you? Are you like Klaus where it's a kink for you or...?"

The way your cheeks reddened further gave him his answer as did the way your shoulders slumped. Ah. That was why then. You were terrified they'd judge you. He barely withheld his laughter at the thought. As if. Every one of them had kinks or little flaws or insecurities. It was what made them all Human. 

He paused as you looked at him in hesitant curiosity. 

"K-Klaus has it too?"

He saw the question in your eyes and answered it, his smirk widening at the equally surprised and mortified look on your face. 

"Yup; he's a 50/50 Switch I'd say. I'm surprised I know that and you don't. Some days he's full ler, others full lee and most of the time he's happy to have either and gives as good as he gets."

He snatched the popcorn from the microwave as it finished beeping, opening it and starting to munch on it absentmindedly in amusement at how funny your reaction was to him. 

"Well...I wasn't exactly the closest with everyone. That didn't magically change when you left, y'know. But- why do you know all the lingo!?"

He quirked an eyebrow. 

"...Klaus confided in me one day. He was pretty high, probably doesn't remember it. He's always been a rambler though. Guess it's not too surprising." 

He looked you up and down and smirked as he noticed you shiver in response.

"Even if I didn't know the language- you're a 100% lee aren't you? You wouldn't get that flustered seeing others getting messed with if you weren't. You want to be the one getting tickled-" He placed special emphasis on the word now that he knew it bothered you and relished your flinch. "But you're too scared to ask for it. It's quite cute actually. Very in line with how you were when we were still kids. You never could ask for the things you wanted, or speak up. So…" He hopped off the counter with a flourish after putting the now empty bag aside. "I'm going to be a good big brother and help you out. Come with me."

He grabbed your hand after ensuring you weren't holding your tea mug and gently shoved you in front of the screen most of the others weren't watching anyway, mighty strong despite his younger appearance. 

"Listen up idiots. ______'s got something she wants to say." 

He turned to you expectantly with a mocking smile as you looked between him and your other siblings with wide, disbelieving eyes. 

Oh no way in fuck this was happening. 

Your eyes moved to both the stairs and the front door, weighing your chances but Five's clicking tongue made you stiffen and move your gaze towards him. 

"I wouldn't try it. I'll just teleport before you get far enough and then I'll show them. And I know you don't want that. Or...maybe you do. Either way; I'm not the kindest of our siblings in that regard so you may want to think twice before trying to get on my nerves. Just tell them."

"Okay will one of you please just say what's going on!?" 

Predictably, Diego was the first to snap, but the flinch you gave in response to his raised voice made him wince in sympathy. Whoops. 

Allison tried next, ever the mediator. 

"Whatever it is this is… I'm sure it's nothing bad right?"

You couldn't meet anyone's gaze now; Diego's loud proclamation had made you too cagey but you mumbled. 

"Define bad. It...d-depends on your perspective, I guess."

You risked a pleading glance towards Five, wishing a hole would appear to make you disappear. 

"Five, please you're literally killing me right now; this doesn't even matter okay? Can I please just go?" 

At your whining tone and childish reaction Five gritted his teeth in annoyance before he shrugged and nodded. 

"Yeah, alright fine you can go."

Your expression visibly relaxed but just as you took your first step, Five continued. 

"All she can't seem to say is that she has a tickle kink like Klaus and likes to constantly be on the receiving end instead of both like him."

You whirled to look at him with your mouth dropped open in shock, filter gone as betrayal fueled you.

"Five no-! You fucking little-"

You gritted your own teeth as he smiled in smug satisfaction up at you and clenched your fists with an upset huff, hating the way your eyes burned in humiliation.

"Y'know what? Whatever. It's not even fucking worth it.  I'll be gone by tomorro-AGH!" 

You shouted in surprise not having any time to wallow or finish your self deprecating words because suddenly Klaus was digging into your hips like a madman after tackling you to the floor and making you burst into giggles as you tried to weakly push him away in shock. 

"Wh-Whahahahay!?"

He rolled his eyes like it was obvious as he moved up to squeeze experimentally at your sides. 

"You may be the actress of the family; but I'm the only drama queen thank you very much. You're not going anywhere till I'm done with you!!" 

He cooed with a giggle of his own. 

"It's good to know anytime I'm in a ler mood I'll always have a cute little lee to wreck to oblivion."

"You always go red so easily…"

Diego's fond voice could be heard above you and you moved your eyes up a bit to see him crouching above your head as he traced feather light patterns into your underarms with his free hand as he held your hands down with the other. 

"To think you hid this from us for so long. Tsk tsk. Now we've got so much time to make up on...at least an hour a day."

Your eyes widened at that.

"N-No whahahay! I'd dhihihie!!"

He pretended to think before he smirked and traded out his hand for his knees letting both hands scribble into your exposed underarms. 

"Fine. A half hour a day then. Minimum. Final offer. Better hurry it's going fast...20 more seconds and it goes for 45 minutes…"

At his threat you cracked, reluctantly. 

"Okay okhahahay!! 30 minutes!" 

He smirked in satisfaction and his eyes lit up at the way you squealed when his fingertip accidentally brushed over your ear, focusing his attention there with manic glee. 

"Well now I know why you were always running away every time tickles came up." 

Vanya's sweet voice greeted you and you looked to your right to see her kneeling, Allison doing the same at your left. 

"You'd always run off, even when we were kids. I always thought it was too painful for you and it was probably that too but it also must've made you too shy to stand it."

She noticed your cute little pout at her vocalizing the word and her eyes glittered as she began ever so gently dancing her nails over your sides and ribs, Allison quickly mirroring her, though she didn't directly say anything to voice her approval; her actions spoke much louder anyway and you were sure you'd talk later. She wasn't as big on voicing her intimate feelings unless alone with the other person. Vanya had always been the merciful type and kept her knowledge to herself instead of tormenting you with it. 

And speaking of merciful…

You barely mustered a weak glare through your laughter and giggles as Five took Klaus' place straddling your waist, Luther easily holding your legs still with a single hand and scratching tentatively at your feet, clearly scared of hurting you while Klaus moved to your knees. 

Five's face screamed I told you so but you still managed to flip him off and stick your tongue out at him which made his eyebrows rise to his hairline before he made a show of rolling up his sleeves. 

"Aww you wanna be a little brat do you? After helping you confess your little secret and be accepted? Fine. But just consider I've y'know...done actual tickle torture to people. And gotten the info I wanted every time, might I add. So maybe think twice next time. Unfortunately… you've already sealed you fate for this session but hey; there's always tomorrow's thanks to Diego right?" 

And then you were screaming in laughter as he dug right into your hips, nailing every ticklish nerve possible and sending your body alight at the sensations combined from everyone. 

And eventually of course they pulled away at a stern look from Allison even as Diego patted you on the back and said he'd add the 15 minutes of time to tomorrow for you. 

It looked like you would be getting 45 minutes after all and as you were smothered in affection from your adoring siblings, each who loved and showed that love in different ways...you had to say you didn't mind nearly as much as you pretended to. 

[iwritesickfic]

1/2 Aaaaah I’ve fallen quickly in love with your writing, I love your style. A couple of prompts, since you asked for them: Peter thinks he’s recovering from a bad illness- genuinely so fed up of being ill that at this point he’s willing to pretend to himself and everyone else he’s feeling better. Meanwhile he’s still staying up late working, and one day he gets stuck in the rain on the way from class and needs some help... and Ashlyn is closest...

First, thank you!!!!!! Second, this is long as hell and I also got sucked into the DRAMA of it all so I hope you still enjoy it :) might write a second part if we’re feeling it? anyway, enjoy and thanks for the kind words and prompts :)

It seems like it’s been forever since Peter hasn’t felt like shit. It’s like his body is trying to make up for all the years he spent avoiding every cold and flu that went around. He has to admit though, the main reason he’s still ill is because he won’t really give himself the time to fully recover. As soon as he’s feeling halfway decent, he dives back into life as normal - which for him, is 6 hours sleep and living on coffee - and within a week he’s back to being practically bedridden.

Leo is fed up with it. Big time. At least that’s what Peter’s gathered. Leo’s never said as much, but Peter figures he must be getting tired of it by now. So much that Peter’s stopped telling him how he’s feeling. At first it was just lying by omission. Now it’s lying-lying.

Today, everything’s concentrated in his head. His sinuses are throbbing, and his eyes hurt to move. He’s been swapping between chills and feeling too hot all day, and he’s pretty sure everyone in his lecture class hates his guts for his constant sniffling. He ran out of tissues about an hour into the six hour course, so he’s stuck wiping his nose with the crumpled leftovers and the few napkins he finds in a pocket of his bag.

By the time there’s only an hour left in class, he’s lost all ability to absorb anything the professor is saying. He’s shaking so badly he can’t take notes even if he wanted to. He’s considered leaving early, but to be honest, he’d rather put off his walk to the train as long as possible. He decides when he gets home, he’s chugging some nyquil, taking a cold shower, and going the fuck to sleep. He’s got a date with Leo tonight but he’ll need to make some excuse.

When the professor finally ends the class, he gets a rush of dopamine at the thought he’s only a 15 minute walk and a 30 minute train ride from some relief.

He stares at his phone, trying to think of something to tell Leo.

something came up, can i see you thursday?

Leo texts back almost immediately.

we already rescheduled twice are you sure you cant make it?

Peter bites his lip.

it’s a thesis thing. im sorry i promise thursday night.

He starts to pack his bag, and his phone buzzes.

ok, good luck love x

He pushes down the wave of guilt he feels and slings his bag over his shoulder. His heart drops into his stomach when he gets to the building’s lobby. It’s raining. Really raining, not just drizzling, but pouring. He swears, and sits down on one of the benches. He can wait.

Ten minutes later, the rain still hasn’t let up, and he knows if he doesn’t get up now he’s going to end up asleep on this bench whether he likes it or not. When he stands, the world starts to spin, and he has to bite back a whine at the way his headache worsens.

He pulls his hood on, even though it won’t make much of a difference, and takes a step outside. It’s not even five minutes before he’s soaked. At first, the rain almost felt nice on his fevered skin, but now he’s freezing. The cold’s worsened the way his nose is running, there’s mess all over his upper lip, and he can’t stop sneezing. His hair is stuck to his forehead, water gathered in his eyelashes. It’s another five minutes before he realizes he’s not getting to the train. His knees give out, and he has to catch himself against a bus shelter. He manages to make it to the bench inside, and sinks down, hyperventilating. He looks around aimlessly, hoping something will catch his eye and give him some semblance of a plan. And it does.

He’s on 110th and Amsterdam. That’s a block from Ashlynn’s apartment. Less than a block. He stands up, waiting for the world to stop spinning before making an attempt to walk. He tries not to think about the cold, or the way he can’t feel his toes, or the pounding in his head. Just focuses on one foot in front of the other.

He finds himself at her building. He presses her buzzer with shaking fingers, praying she’s home. He doesn’t have to wait even 30 seconds before the lobby door opens.

he steps inside, unable to hold back the heavy sigh of relief at the sudden warmth. He stands there for a moment, swaying slightly, before making his way to the elevator. Somehow, he finds himself at her door, and knocks. he hears her footsteps padding closer and closer before she’s standing right there, in front of him.

“Peter?” she looks puzzled until the world starts to tilt and he grips the doorframe to stay upright. “Whoa, hey, are you alright?” He opens his mouth to speak but three harsh sneezes come out instead, and he buries them into the wet sleeve of his hoodie. “Ok, c’mere.” She pulls him inside, and before he really knows what’s going on, he’s sitting at her kitchen table.

“S’raining,” he mumbles, and she hums in response.”M’cold.”

“I can tell. Here -” She starts to strip off his hoodie, which is totally soaked through. His shivering worsens, and she palms his forehead. “Shit, Peter.” She takes the hem of his t shirt and hesitates. “Can I...?” He nods, and she peels it off. She unties his sneakers and pulls off his socks, then bites her lip. “I can grab you a pair of my roommate’s sweatpants and you can change in the bathroom, yeah?” He shakes his head. There is no way he’s walking anywhere right now. She goes red. “You want me to...”

“M’gonna pass out if I try to stand up, Ash.”

Carefully, she unbuttons his jeans, tugging them off until he’s sitting in his underwear. She disappears for a moment before coming back with a towel, and wraps it around his shoulders. She places a box of tissues on his lap, and sits down in the chair across from him.

“What’s going on?”

“M’sick.” She laughs softly. Peter gingerly starts to wipe his nose, wincing at the raw, chapped soreness. He blows, and a spike of pain hits him between the eyes.

“Yeah, I can tell. Why were you -”

“Walking home from class,” he mumbles, and she nods. She stands up, and reappears with a thermometer. “Can we not?”

“If you wanna stay here then you’re gonna have to let me baby you,” she says, and if it didn’t hurt so bad he’d roll his eyes. He lets her stick the device under his tongue, and while she’s waiting for the reading she starts heating up water for tea. The thermometer beeps and she removes it gently. She frowns.

“What?” She takes a deep breath.

“It’s high, that’s all.” He raises his eyebrows at her. “102.2.”

“Not so bad,” he murmurs. He’s struggling to keep his eyes open. Sitting here in the warmth of the kitchen his body is finally deciding it’s had enough. The sudden warmth is also making his nose run. He sniffles.

“I’m not even gonna comment on that. C’mon, you can lay down on the couch. I’d offer you my bed but I don’t think you’ll make it that far to be honest.” He nods, and she pulls him upright. He manages to make it the few feet to the couch, and lands heavily. She swaps the towel for a blanket, and he’s never felt something better than the way it feels on his freezing, damp skin. Dry and warm and heavy. He curls up on his side, holding a tissue under his still-leaking nose, and he doesn’t last 30 seconds before falling asleep.

He’s awakened suddenly by the harsh ring of his cell phone. His headache is worse, despite the rest, and though his nose has stopped running it seems, his head is fully, hopelessly congested. He digs through his bag to find his phone, and frowns when he sees it’s Leo. He considers letting the call go to voicemail, but that’s before he sees the 5 previous missed calls.

“Hello?” He hates the way his voice sounds - sick and congested and torn up.

“Peter, what the fuck is going on?”

“I’m uh...I’m home working on thesis.” It takes him a moment to remember his lie from earlier.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Why then do I see a photo of you, shirtless, on Ashlynn’s couch?” Peter knows immediately that he has fucked up, big time. “Do I really need to explain to you why that makes me upset?”

“Leo -”

“You better have a good fucking explanation for this.” Maybe it’s the fever, maybe it’s the fact he hasn’t seen Leo in weeks, or maybe it’s the build up of all the guilt he’s felt lying to him, but Peter feels tears start to fall. He breaks into sobs, and they make his headache exponentially worse.

“Leo, p-please, I -” He can barely speak around his tears. “Please don’t be mad.”

“Mad at you for what?” His voice is cold. “Tell me. I want to hear you tell me.”

“It’s...it’s not -”

“Tell me, Peter.”

“I didn’t want...I didn’t want you to be mad at me.” His fevered brain can’t quite string together the right words.

“How would...” He trails off. “How would sleeping with Ashlynn not make me mad?”

“I didn’t - we...it wasn’t...I know you’re tired of taking care of me, so -”

“What?” Leo’s tone has shifted.

“I know you’re sick of me being sick, so I was gonna just go home and sleep and then it was raining, and I was so fucking dizzy, and I was on 110th street -”

“Wait. Stop. Let me get this straight. You’re ill?”

“Yeah,” he says, and the guilt is absolutely eating him up. “I didn’t want to bother -”

“Love, why would that be bothering me?” Leo sounds almost sad.

“You-you’re so busy, and -”

“Peter, I don’t know what kind of miscommunication happened here but I’m not...I wouldn’t be bothered if I knew you weren’t feeling well. I mean, I’d be upset but just because I don’t want you to feel bad. I wouldn’t be mad at you or angry with you or something like that. Why would you have that idea?”

“I’d hate me if I was you,” he chokes out, and Leo sighs.

“Peter...Look, can I come get you?”

“You don’t have to.”

“I know that, that’s not why I asked.” He pauses. “Where’s Ashlynn?”

That’s a good question. Peter isn’t sure. At class, maybe?

“Not uh...not here.”

“Ok, I’m gonna call you back. I love you, ok?”

“Mmhm. Love you too.”

“Ok, just relax. Everything’s alright. Hang tight.”

“Ok.”

[somekindoftuber]

vld youtuber AU (klance, part 6)

Note: The city where Shiro and Keith live is called Springdale. I’d pictured both of these towns being in the Carolinas. Again, there are tense changes everywhere (sorry) but I plan to fix them later.

Thank you for all the great feedback!!

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five

.

Lance woke up surprisingly early on Saturday. Today they were headed to the fair. He brewed coffee and made a tentative battle plan for the day: walk around, see stalls, a few rides, some games, lunch, maybe renting a scooter to drive up to lookout hill to watch the sunset. It was the perfect opportunity for Lance to stop dancing around the issue and just tell Keith he’s in to him already.

Pidge pokes fun at him through breakfast as Lance makes a group text thread with everyone. They agree to meet up at the south entrance of the fairgrounds at 10:30.

Lance ends up making them late by spending too much time picking out his clothes. Keith and Shiro are both sporting a little pink on their noses and cheekbones from the sun on the beach the day before, but they’re all smiles as they pay for their wrist bands and head into the fair. It’s a typical American county fair ordeal, with rickety rented rides, badly rigged carnival games, and endless booths of cheap nick-nacks and fried foods. But there was always something about the Harborville fair that set it apart. There was an energy here, like the last bang of summer before cool autumn weather swept down the coast.

They buy tokens and move as a group at first, taking a lap around the fair before splitting up. Pidge and Hunk stick together as always, Allura drags Shiro off at a rather brisk pace, and that left Lance and Keith.

“Anything you wanna do?” Lance asks him.

Keith shrugs and smiles. “Anything’s good.”

They walk around for a while, stopping at booths here and there. They run into other members of their group from time to time, and Lance uses his phone to film bits of a vlog for later editing, catching Shiro and Keith in a few bits (“I’m here with my good friends Shiro and Keith! Say hi guys!”). Lance buys an inaugural funnel cake to split with Keith before hitting the prize games. Keith rolls his eyes as Lance goes for the ring toss, a game he swears up and down he’s mastered despite it being horribly rigged.

“Just you watch,” Lance tells Keith as he lines up a ring. “I’m gonna win you the biggest stuffed animal they have, and then you’ll understand my prowess.”

He swears Keith’s cheeks go red as he smiles. “Well, have fun. I’m gonna grab a soda.”

Lance is half disappointed and half relieved that Keith is no longer watching. So of course, when the guy he’s trying to impress leaves, Lance lands all three rings on a pole. He’s carefully eyeing the selection of stuffed prizes when Shiro appears at his left, seemingly out of thin air.

“You know,” he leans in a speaks close to Lance’s ear. “Hippos are Keith’s favorite animal.”

Lance turns to look up at him, confused, before Shiro gives him a knowing smile and walks away. Hippos? Okay, weird, but also kind of cute. When Lance re-examines the prizes, he spots a large pastel blue hippo near the back, with big button eyes, exaggerated stitching, and a white bow around its neck.

“That one,” he tells the game attendant, pointing.

Keith comes trotting back with a soda in each hand a few minutes later. He stops short when Lance comes up to him with the prize hippo in his arms, easily the size of a dog. Keith’s eyes go wide.

“Told you I’d win,” Lance beams, then holds out the stuffed animal. “Here you go.”

There’s an awkward shuffle as Lance takes the sodas so Keith can take the hippo, and Lance absolutely notices how Keith hugs it to his chest.

“Thanks,” Keith tells him, and his cheeks are pink in a way that has nothing to do with his sunburn.

Keith keeps holding the stuffed animal as they walk around, earning him a few stares. Lance has to admit he looks adorable - all sharp and intense, holding a giant fluffy toy like it’s precious treasure. They find the Racho Alegre food truck and Lance buys enough food for five people, setting the trays of empanadas, pork tamales, fried yucca fruit, papas rellenas and fried green plantains. He films a little, too, Keith protesting with a “don’t film me eating!” Lance passes Keith a mate soda and instructs him on how to properly enjoy Cuban food, and is pleased when Keith seems to enjoy all of it.

He might like the guy, a lot, but if Keith had ended up hating the food he grew up with? It might have been a deal breaker.

They chat at the picnic table for a good half hour as they digested, then walk around some more, Lance filming on his phone here and there. He spots the scooter rental place nearby, and eagerly points at it. But when they get closer, he frowns.

“Aw man,” Lance bemoans. “I was thinking it’d be cool to drive up to the hill to watch the air show, but all the scooters are rented out.”

Keith raises an eyebrow. “They’re not? There’s a whole bunch lined up.”

Lance shrugs. “Yeah, but those are the 50cc engine ones. You need a motorcycle license for those.”

“Yeah?” Keith looks unruffled. “I have one.”

Lance hears a record scratch in his brain. “You do?”

With a chuckle, Keith motions him towards the rental desk. “Who do you think test drives the bikes when Shiro’s done with them?”

Lance held the hippo, which he’d dubbed Blue, while Keith filled out paperwork, showing his motorcycle ID and insurance card. Lance caught a glimpse of it, and cooed.

“Aww, short hair!” He smiled at the photo of a younger Keith, scowling at the camera, and noticed two things: first, Keith didn’t have a middle name, and second, there were little tufts of what might be considered a mullet sticking out from behind his neck.

Keith shoved his ID back into his wallet. “Is your photo any better?”

“Actually,” Lance pulled his wallet from his back pocket and produced his driver’s license. “It is.”

Lance was proud of that picture - he was one of the only people he knew that actually took good ID photos. It was like a superpower. Keith was staring at his ID, his eyebrows raised.

“Leandro Sebastian McClain?” He asked.

“Uh.” Lance’s face flushed hot. “Old family name. Lance is kind of a nickname.”

Keith’s smile as he handed the ID back was magical. “Cool.”

Helmets secured, Lance climbed on the back of the dinged-up rental bike behind Keith as he started up the engine, giving him quick directions to the hill that overlooked the bay. Then, with Blue shoved between them, Lance wrapped his arms around Keith’s middle. They took off, and Lance felt a surge of adrenaline as they rode. He could count on one hand the number of times he’d been on a real motorcycle, and it was as scary as it was exhilarating. It was also cold, even the warmth of the sun unable compete with the wind that whipped past them. Lance hugged Keith tighter, wishing there wasn’t a stuffed animal between them.

It took a good ten minutes to drive up to the hill, and by the time they arrived, the wind had all but chilled Lance to the bone. The weather was beautiful that day, but it was a different story when you were going 45 miles an hour. His t-shirt and loose button up had done nothing to protect him, and as they reached the hill and stepped off the bike and took off their helmets, Lance set Blue on the bike seat and rubbed at his frozen, goosebump covered arms.

“You okay?” Keith asked.

“Yeah,” Lance laughed a little. “Just kinda cold. Wind’s kinda brutal at that speed.”

Keith blinked at him. “Oh.” Then, like they were in a movie, he removed his leather jacket and deftly swung it around Lance’s shoulders, patting it against his arms. “There, that better?”

Lance willed himself not to melt, because holy shit. That was the most suave thing he’d ever seen. Keith was one seriously smooth bastard. He caught of whiff of the scent coming off the warm leather and blushed hard. It smelled so good.

“Y-yeah,” he stuttered, letting his fingers grip the edge of the jacket and pull it close.

They sat on a patch of grass nearby just as the air show was beginning. Keith watched with rapt attention as the jets performed aerial acrobatics, leaving bright trails of colored smoke that twisted through the sky. When it was over, Keith sighed beside him.

“I wanted to be a pilot,” he said, his gaze fixed on the sky where the sun was beginning to dip towards the horizon.

Lance bumped his shoulder. “You still can be,” he said. “A pilot’s license can’t be that hard to get.”

Keith looked at the ground, shaking his head with a wry smile. “No, I mean… I wanted to be a fighter pilot. In the navy, or the air force.” He picked at a blade of grass. “But I wasn’t exactly cut out for it.”

“What do you mean?” Lance asked carefully.

Keith shrugged and leaned back on his hands. “I’m a high school dropout with a juvenile record,” he explained. “I’ve gotten my shit straightened out since then, but… that stuff sticks.”

Lance frowned. He was starting to realize just how little he knew about Keith - they talked a lot, but it was all superficial information. He didn’t know anything about Keith’s past, or his ambitions.

“It’s fine,” Keith said, interrupting Lance’s train of thought. “I can’t really complain about my life. I’ve got Shiro, I like working on bikes, and I enjoy my job. I’ve got it pretty good.”

Lance was glad to hear that, but it made him frown for a different reason. “Sounds like you’ve got it figured out. I have no idea what I’m gonna do.”

Keith hummed in questioning, and Lance let go of where he was clutching the jacket to wave his hand. “I’ve just been sort of… coasting for the last two years. I have no idea what I’m doing.” he chewed his lip. “YouTube is fun and all, but my dad keeps asking me what my career plans are, and I have no clue. I can’t just work cafe jobs forever, and Pidge is probably leaving after she graduates in a few months. I don’t even know where I’m gonna end up living.” He rubbed at his eyes.

Keith was quiet for a long time. “What about music?” he offered. Lance shrugged.

“Dunno if I want to go down that road,” he answered. “Being a musician is really unpredictable, unreliable. I doubt I could swing it.”

If Lance wasn’t spiraling into a pity-party, he would have appreciated how adorable Keith’s little pout was. “Well,” Keith offered. “What about teaching music?”

Lance blinked owlishly at him. “Say what?”

“I mean,” Keith started fidgeting. “You’ve said before that you like working with kids, and you play like four instruments, and you can read music…” He looked at Lance. “Why not combine them?”

Lance heard a record scratch for the second time that day. Holy crap. Holy crap. He’d never even considered it, but a career as a music teacher? That sounded… okay. That sounded good.

“I’d--” he swallowed, feeling his pulse quicken with excitement. “I’d probably need to get a degree in music education. But it’s doable.”

Keith beamed at him. “Yeah! Plus…” His face went pink as he looked to the side. “I was thinking, um. Since Pidge will be leaving and all, and there’s a good school in Springdale, you could..” Keith bit at his lower lip. “You could move there. With m-- with us.”

Lance inhaled softly as he looked at Keith. The sun had turned golden, lighting his face and making him glow, and it took Lance’s breath away.

“Also,” Keith put his hand over Lance’s where it rested on the grass. His fingers were shaking. “I, uh.” His voice dropped, so quiet Lance could barely hear. “I really like you.”

Lance gasped. Keith’s confession was so sincere and scared and it made his heart thump against his ribs, a wide smile cracking his face. Oh god, it was happening. He’d fantasized about this moment more times than he could count and it was happening, up on the hill overlooking the bay, with the beautiful sunset and Keith’s jacket around his shoulders. He had to be dreaming.

“I really like you,” Lance told him, turning his hand to thread their fingers together. “A lot.”

Keith huffed a little laugh and oh, he was so gorgeous, his hold on Lance’s hand tightening. Lance wants so badly to kiss him.

“Go out with me?” Lance asked.

Keith’s face fell, shock replacing the gentle smile he’d been wearing. “Oh. Um.”

It was like a bucket of cold water was dumped on Lance’s head as Keith pulled his hand away. Had he misread everything anyway? Was that too forward?

“I was thinking,” Keith began, his voice shaking a little. “That we could just… get to know each other more first?” He began clasping and unclasping his hands. “I’ve never really been in a relationship, plus we live five hours apart, and…” He pouted. “I mean, I didn’t even know your name wasn’t Lance until twenty minutes ago.”

“Oh.” Oh. Keith… had a point. Lance didn’t even know he had a motorcycle license until today. It was probably a good idea to get to know Keith better before attempting to dive headfirst into romance. Lance felt the relief like a physical weight. “You... wanna take it slow?”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

Lance could barely believe this was real. He leaned forward until his forehead rested against Keith’s and laughed softly.

“Sounds good to me.”

He thought this would be a good time to kiss, but they didn’t, eventually pulling apart to drive the bike back to the rental shop by the fairgrounds. Lance kept Keith’s jacket, slipping his arms through the sleeves and pressing his chest as close to Keith’s back as he could for the ride.

.

They made a trip to Lance’s car to stash Blue in the trunk for safe keeping, and as the sun was setting, grabbed a couple of beers and headed to the meeting point they’d arranged with everyone to watch the fireworks. Allura and Shiro had already spread a blanket out on the grass and were chatting. Keith and Lance took a seat near them, sitting close together.

Allura laughed, then Lance remembered his promise to Romelle. He whipped out his phone.

(+328) hey ‘melle you wanna come watch the fireworks at the fair??

(+396) Lance I just finished a 10 hour shift, that’s a hell no

He frowned, then discreetly aimed his camera at Allura and snapped a photo just as she was laughing, then sent it.

(+328) but cute girl looks lonely

There’s a long pause.

(+396) BE THERE IN 15

Pidge and Hunk eventually joined them, just as the grassy field was becoming crammed with people wanting the best seat for the fireworks. Beside Lance, Shiro looked a little odd, swaying slightly, his eyes dilated.

“Shiro?” Lance asked, keeping his voice down. “Are… are you high?”

Then Shiro laughed loud, threw his head back and really laughed. “Nah, no. Well, okay, yeah. Kinda.” He shrugs. “Fireworks kinda freak me out, after - y’know. So I took a xanax. They make me loopy as fuck, but I didn’t want to miss this.”

Lance blinked. He didn’t think he’d ever heard Shiro cuss before.

Romelle arrived twenty minutes later, just before the fireworks were scheduled to start. Lance did introductions and was pleased to see Romelle take a seat next to Allura, the two of them immediately striking up a conversation about coffee. Mission accomplished.

When the fireworks started, Lance leaned into Keith, feeling Keith return the motion. It was nice to not have to hide his affection anymore, or stay on guard. And if Lance watched the fireworks from the reflection in Keith’s eyes? Well, that was no one’s business but his.

After the fair, they retreat to Lance’s apartment to hang out and chat. Shiro is coming off his xanax and is having trouble staying awake, perking up only when Keith hands him a glass of water. Romelle and Allura trade social media handles and Lance feels a little smug about getting to play matchmaker for them. But mostly, he’s happy about Keith, who sits so close to him, who let Lance keep wearing his jacket.

It’s late and Allura decides they need to go, so everyone piles out of Lance’s apartment at once. Keith is the last one out, and Lance shyly lets the jacket slip off his shoulders and hands it back.

“Thanks,” He says. Keith grins.

“Anytime. See you tomorrow?”

“Yeah.”

Once the door closes, Lance leans his head against it, grinning wide. He gets about sixty seconds of peace before Pidge and Hunk lay into him.

“Please,” Pidge groans, “Please tell me you two are dating now.”

“Nope,” Lance grins wolfishly at her as Pidge flings her body backwards onto the sofa with a howl of frustration. Hunk just smiles knowingly at him.

“But you’re going to. Right?”

Lance toes off his shoes and goes for his room. “Eventually.” From the couch, Pidge yells that she hates him.

.

The next morning they have an early brunch at Lance’s favorite diner on the marina, trading stories of their adventures at the fair. Pidge and Hunk show videos on their phones of the rides and games they played. Lance films again, and takes a group photo of all of them with their mimosas and fancy biscuits.

When Lance sees them off for their drive back to Springdale, Keith pulls him into hug. It’s soft and nice and Keith is so warm, Lance taking a deep breath and inhaling his smell. When they pull apart, Keith’s eyes are glittering.

Lance waves at the car as his three friends drive off, feeling happy and light.

.

Continued in part seven!

[jamiebluewind]

I Was Touch Starved In Real Life

We've all seen fics that talk about touch starvation. Them craving touch and the insane lengths they go until eventual cuddling happens. Well I lived it and let me tell you, it's nothing like the stories I've read...

When I was a kid, sometimes my mother made me go hungry for food. Miss a meal and you get hungry. Miss two and you get real hungry. But something eventually happens after a day or two. You stop feeling hungry. Go long enough and food makes you sick to your stomach (on top of being a little out of it). Go without often enough and you will have trouble knowing when you're hungry for the rest of your life and will randomly forget to eat longer than what is healthy because you didn't remember or you didn't smell food so your body forgot to remind you. Sometimes when you do feel hungry, you don't even notice. It affects you for the rest of your life and it's about the same with touch starvation.

Most kids will hug and hold hands and are quick to touch. It's necessary for mental health, oxytocin production, and bonding. I was use to touch, especially since I stayed with my grandparents (mamaw and papaw) when I was little because our house was full (2 parents, my older brother and his new wife, and my mother's  sister and her husband and no that is not normal in the US especially in a 3 bedroom!). Mamaw and I shared a bed and would cuddle up. Papaw would play cards and games. There was always a dog or a cat (usually both). I walked next door every evening to cuddle and wrestle with my dad or brush each other's hair. Lots of contact save for my mother and maternal grandparents. Even when my mother did brush my hair, she would pull, yank, and tease, so it wasn't an enjoyable experience.

Then papaw got sick (cancer and later congestive heart failure) and I had to go back to living with my parents in a single bed. The computer room was converted to a bedroom for my aunt and uncle until they moved out. When I started getting less affection, I would hug my parents randomly like in the middle of phone calls. I'd lay on my dad after work. I'd go next door to see mamaw and papaw and help out as best as I could. My body knew I needed it even when I didn't.

My dad worked more. My mother pulled me out of school, lying to my dad and family that she was homeschooling me (and the government never checked). My mother told my friends who called that I had moved. I became the babysitter for my nephew and later a second. I loved them so much. They often slept in my bed or dad's bed (as my parents had stopped sharing a bed at that point). I got most of my affection from them and mamaw.

Then my brother got on drugs after being clean for years and had a falling out with our dad. He moved out. His wife tried to stay with him, but eventually moved on and moved closer to her family (we still talk). Papaw died. Mamaw moved to town closer to her other son. Grandmother moved in my brother's room. I lost all my regular sources of affection. My dad gave me a few minutes when he got home and I was able to have my mother drive me to see mamaw a couple times a month and sometimes once a week. My mother made me stay alone a lot. I hugged mamaw a lot when I seen her and would hug my parents with permission, but became less and less likely to touch other people, especially strangers.

I'm not sure when it started happening, but suddenly, I became hyper sensitive to touch... and it hurt. Only mamaw, dad, and my nephews were exempt and even then I wasn't excessive. Animals were still safe. Just not people.

I got much better at hiding my emotions. When my aunts and uncles visited, I would hug them before they left despite it hurting. I couldn't tell them not to touch me because it caused me pain. I didn't want to hurt them. I hated shaking hands so much that people thought I had a germ thing (especially if they had never seen me with my nephews). Family reunions and crowds were hell.

The abuse, isolation, and lack of touch caused my anxiety and depression to get worse and worse. I survived because my pets needed me. By the time I got out, I was so sensitive to touch that making myself touch anybody but my dad, mamaw, and my nephews was extremely difficult. The less prepared I was, the more painful it could be. I was so sensitive that I could be blindfolded and somebody could get about 3 or 4 inches (about 7 or 10 cm) from my bare skin and I could tell you exactly where they were. People didn't believe me when I told them, so I did it on several occasions. The effects later years. I wore clothes that covered as much skin as possible to negate the effects of contact. I got sick a lot. My first gynecologist appointment was especially terrible.

I remember the day it started getting better. I was working in the library in my early 20s during my first semester of college. There were two small boys with there mom as she studied. I kept them entertained so they didn't disturb the other students. Just bright eyes and full of happy giggles and curiosity. When they looked away about to leave, I reached out slightly towards the youngest with hesitant movements, trying to psych myself up to choose to touch someone on purpose without being prompted (other than the four I could). I reached the rest of the way and ruffled his short tight curls. He looked up at me with this huge smile and waved goodbye along with his brother. The touch was over in an instant, but it didn't hurt. I think working there had helped me slowly get use to people, but that moment was the turning point. Sure touch was sometimes uncomfortable and a touch without knowing it was coming could still hurt, but it was huge for me. I could wear shirts without long sleeves or crew/turtle necks. I bought capris and shorts. I started hugging and the like.

I was still sensitive in my mid 20s even a year or two after my first serious boyfriend, but the pain didn't happen save for very rare occasions. I became very platonically affectionate a big hugger, even with strangers. Some found it mildly offputting, but at least I was respectful and always asked first.

I ended up in a bad relationship off and on for 7 years. I think a big factor in me staying was the fact he gave me the affection my body and mind craved. I convinced myself that we were in love and that he was the best I could do. Whenever we would break up, I would end up lacking again especially after I became disabled and couldn't work, losing most human contact. When he would come back and hold me close, I thought it was love I was overpowered by and the sparks between us, but it was just my body reacting after being starved for touch. It was like being given a full meal after living off scraps.

Now I'm in my 30s and it still effects me in ways. I go too long without human contact without noticing until I have it. I still hug everybody, love all the pets, and I'm always willing to help, but I can get overwhelmed. I'm simultaneously the most open person you will ever meet and the best at hiding pain of all type. Lack of touch doesn't make me nervous, but it makes the anxiety that does happen last longer and harder to get rid of. I don't feel cold without it, but it does make me feel warm in a nice way and a little calmer when someone touches me, but normally only people I care about like my dad or my best friend (who I will be moving closer to next year). Most other people feel neutral or nice, but it depends on the person or the situation. The calmness can last for a while afterwards. I don't take hot showers to replace touch, but to try and relax and lower my anxiety. I often don't notice when I need it, instead just seeing that my anxiety is noticeable or I feel more depressed than normal. Since both can also be due to a bad day, forgetting to eat, a hormone thing, or life in general, it's hard to tell if one of those days is because 'the news is especially terrifying recently' or 'I just need to guilt my dad into hugging me for a while'. Dating is hard because normal romantic touches can make my brain fall in love (not lust) far too fast. Being newly single causes me severe depression (pro tip, show the people you care about extra affection after they go through a breakup unless you want them miserable and/or rebounding with a bad person because their brain is suddenly without a chemical it desperately needs). I'm physically clingy at times.

I cope though. Sometimes wearing a scarf around my neck helps lower my anxiety some. My cat helps me. I have good friends. I go to a chiropractor every two or three weeks which also helps my migraines. It's weird and can make things harder on me at times, but I'm okay and that's what matters.

[stupid-jeans]

Well. It’s not fic (not really) but I’m posting this here anyway mostly for me. This is...really heavily veiled RPF. And it’s not relevant to any of my recent fandoms. If you can figure it out um...you get a medal. This is a verse my wife and I wrote in almost nonstop for 10-something years. And I missed it so this is what happened. It’s not the beginning, it’s not the end. *shrug*

CW for mentions of rape/sexual assault/PTSD/flashbacks/disassociating/war related violence, but nothing major.

Matt didn't expect that going back up the Hudson would cause a problem. Why would it? Nothing happened there. And he was fine. He'd been fine for several months now. He almost didn't think about it every day anymore (it helped that he'd left, that his time in the army was done), and things were good.

So he went upstate to visit his brother, because being away, being in a war zone, had made him want to mend whatever was left of the wreckage of bridges he'd burned with his younger siblings. If he was being totally honest, spending so much time in California played just as big of a role as the war had. His siblings didn't deserve to pay for the fact that his mom died. And it had been twenty fucking years already. It was definitely time to bury the hatchet.

Everything went okay until they decided to go to the bar, on a Friday night of a three day weekend. Everything was fine until he'd been brushed up against twenty too many times while playing pool, until Jimmy's buddies were ragging on him for playing a shit game, until some guy with an army-issued buzz cut stumbled into him walking out of the bathroom, and the next thing he knew, Jimmy and two of his buddies were hauling Matt off the guy and dragging him out of the bar. The shock of the cold air snapped him out of it, and then he was shaking and fighting the urge to run and Jimmy just looked worried. Fuck.

"I'm...gonna call Wes?" Jimmy offered, and Matt almost objected, until he thought about the potential damage he could do to his little brother's career over the next 48 hours. So he nodded instead, handing Jimmy his phone. His voice wouldn't work yet, and with how badly his hands were still shaking, there was no way he'd be able to text.

So his brother called his boyfriend and then they walked back to Matt's hotel and Jimmy stood by the door, still looking worried (and also overwhelmingly like their father, and that wasn't something Matt was ready to process right now).

"You can't stand there all night," Matt said finally. Jimmy nodded but didn't move. "I didn't know tonight was going to happen or I wouldn't have come."

Jimmy softened immediately and it was all Linda, Jimmy's mom, and Matt felt a pang of guilt for all the times he'd pushed his stepmother away.

"I don't give a shit about that," Jimmy promised. "Are you okay? I mean, what the hell happened?"

"I can't, okay? I'm sorry." At least he hadn't said it was nothing. A step in the right direction.

"Being over there...it really fucked you up, huh?" Jimmy finally moved to the couch, sinking into it.

"I...guess you could say that," Matt agreed, because it was true. Not the way Jimmy was thinking, because it wasn't the sand or the heat or the bombs that got him. It wasn't patching up bullet wounds or picking fragments of IEDs out of his friends that kept him up at night.

No, as it had turned out, the real enemy had looked just like him. A home-grown farm boy from Oklahoma, just trying to make his family proud. And have a little fun on the side. Whether the other participant was willing or not. And Matt had definitely not been willing.

He was shaking again before he realized.

"Matt." Jimmy's voice was even, quiet, just enough to pull him back. He breathed and unclenched his fists, realizing for the first time that his knuckles were bruised. From decking the guy in the bar. His stomach twisted. "What can I do for you?"

"I don't know," Matt admitted. "Water, maybe?"

Jimmy brought him a plastic cup from the bathroom. "You know I love you, right?"

And that caught him off guard, because Jimmy wasn't exactly the type to get all sappy. Or maybe he was, and Matt had just never been on the receiving end. He was once again struck by how little he knew his half brother.

"Yeah. Yeah, I love you too."

They watched a movie with the volume on low, all the lights on, plenty of space between them, until Wes showed up several hours later. Matt took his first real breath since leaving the bar. The world blinked mostly back into focus, and Matt vowed never to come up here alone again.

A week later, he was only just recovering. Wesley had mandated he go to his therapist, and he had. He was doing all the right things, but this wasn't like medication. It didn't just get better. There wasn't just two steps back, there were fifty, and, though he'd stumbled forward again a bit, now he'd stalled.

There was exactly one number he could call that stood a shot at helping him, but he was wary. Wary because everything was so damn complicated. Wary because, of course the only person he wanted to talk to was his boyfriend's sister's ex. But after pacing the living room for well over two hours, barely keeping a panic attack and an almost guaranteed dissociation at bay, Matt caved and sent Ingrid a text, having no idea if she'd respond or not.

His phone rang less than two minutes later.

"Do you want me to come over?" Ingrid asked. "Are you home?"

"I...yeah. Um, that would be great," Matt mumbled, finally giving up on pacing and sinking onto the couch instead, still tense, still fighting the wave of dread in his chest, but one step closer to winning.

"Okay. Just, do me a favor and unlock the door for me? I'll stay on the phone until I get there, but I need you to do that, okay?" Ingrid said, and Matt flashed back to barricading himself in Wesley's bedroom in California, to Delaney unlocking the door from the outside, which Matt hadn't even known was possible, to resurfacing on the other side of a nasty episode with his hand to Delaney's throat, pinning her up against the wall, and Ingrid there, calmly talking him back to himself somehow, until he'd let go. "Matt." Her voice was just as calm now, gently coaxing him back to reality. "It's okay. We're all okay."

"Yeah," Matt whispered. It had been five years and he still wasn't sure that was true. "Okay, it's unlocked."

Ingrid kept her promise and stayed on the line until he heard the door open. "I'm really glad you called," she said, tucking her phone into her purse. "It's good to see you. Despite the circumstances."

He smiled a little, standing to greet her. "You too. I, um...thanks for coming. I wasn't sure..."

"Look." Ingrid stopped him. "Whatever happened between me and Delaney has nothing to do with me and you, okay? You can always call me and I will always be here for you. Just like you'll always be there for me, right?"

"Yeah, of course," Matt agreed easily.

"You think I can get a hug?"

And honestly, it meant the world to Matt that Ingrid wanted him to touch her at all. He hugged her, more tension ebbing out of him.

"You wanna tell me what happened?" Ingrid murmured once they pulled away.

So Matt did. And even though he'd told the same story to Wes, and his therapist, and his sister, it felt better telling it to Ingrid. Because of all those people, she was the only one who really understood.

"Fucking triggers," Ingrid muttered once he'd finished.

"More to add to the list, I guess," Matt sighed.

"But we're here," Ingrid said. "And they get better."

"Do they?"

"Yeah," Ingrid said. "I mean, the other night, after a show, I went out to a bar with some of the girls. I didn't need my meds, I had a few drinks, I took the subway home alone, and I didn't even notice until the next morning."

"You're a fucking warrior," Matt declared, sliding his arm around her as she leaned against him.

"I know you are, but what am I?" Ingrid teased.

Huffing out a laugh, Matt rolled his eyes. "Let's not wait until the next middle of the night trauma crisis to see each other again?"

"Should be a lot easier now that you're not all the way in fucking North Carolina," Ingrid murmured.

"You should stay tonight," Matt suggested.

"Um, yeah, if you think I'm going home at...3:30 in the morning, you're insane."

"You can take my bed. I'll stay out here." Matt gestured toward the bedroom.

Ingrid glanced at the door and then across the apartment at the other bedroom door. "That bad, huh?"

He hadn't slept with Wes since coming home. It was safer to sleep alone, to avoid the potential for issues. Though Wesley could overpower him much more readily than Delaney. Asking him to wasn’t fair.

"Yeah," he sighed.

"Okay. Will you come lay with me until I fall asleep, then?"

Ingrid had her own set of triggers, and Matt knew well enough that perhaps her biggest was sleeping somewhere unfamiliar. And they'd only just moved into this place when Ingrid and Delaney broke up. She'd been here maybe twice, and never overnight.

He obliged her gladly, sitting up against the headboard while she curled up beside him. "I'd say wake me up if you need anything, but I think maybe you'd be better off waking Wes," he murmured.

"Don't worry. I've been to this rodeo a time or fifty, remember?" Ingrid reassured him sleepily. "G'night, Matty."

"Night, Ingrid."

In the morning, he woke up to Wes making breakfast, talking quietly to Ingrid who was perched on the counter, sipping coffee out of an oversized mug. No nightmares, no anxiety.

He knew the instant Ingrid noticed he was awake, but she didn't acknowledge him. More things she'd learned, about letting him come around on his own. And Matt thought, not for the first time, that he'd never love anyone else the way he loved Ingrid.

"Morning," he greeted, joining them, kissing Wesley on the cheek, lingering against his back a couple of extra seconds. His boyfriend definitely noticed but he, too,kept quiet.

"Wes and I were just discussing the merits of sitting around and watching hockey all day," Ingrid explained, offering Matt her mug, which he took with a smile.

"As long as we stick to hockey," Matt said. "No baseball, no football. Got it?"

Hockey was the only sport they'd all ever agreed on.

Wes' phone went off and Ingrid glanced at it, her mouth twisting as she looked at the display. Delaney.

Wes seemed to figure it out right as Matt did and they both reached for the phone at the same time.

"Let me get it. You know anything in that pan'll burn if you leave it with me." It was enough for Wes to relent. So Matt took the phone and wandered back to the bedroom.

"Hey, Lane, it's Matt."

"What'd you do to my brother? You know what, don't answer that, I don't wanna know." Delaney's typical whirlwind of a conversation made Matt grin.

"Sorry to disappoint you but he's just making breakfast. Didn't really feel like burning the house down so you got me instead."

"You know I like you better anyway. Listen, I'm in the neighborhood so I'm gonna stop by. Bodega requests?"

“I’m not sure that’s the best idea…” Matt said, wincing a little.

“Trouble in paradise? My brother being a dick? You know I’ll come kick his ass if I need to…”

“No, it’s not that. Just...Ingrid’s here.”

There was a long pause on the other end of the phone. If not for the sounds of traffic in the background, Matt would wonder if the line had disconnected.

“Oh.”

“I called her. I needed…” Matt sighed and scrubbed his hand over his face. “Your brother shouldn’t be responsible for all my demons, Lane.”

“I get it. It’s fine. We’re adults, right?”

“Something like that.” He chuckled. It still didn’t feel like he’d grown up at all some days.

“So, I’ll let you have your morning. Tell Wes I said hi. And Ingrid too, I guess.”

“Very adult,” he teased.

“I try. And Matty? I get it. Maybe not exactly, but I understand why you need her. I’m glad you have each other.”

Matt’s chest ached, for himself and how grateful he was for this family that had become his own, and for Delaney and Ingrid, who still loved each other but couldn’t seem to figure out how to make it work.

“Yeah, thanks.” He sniffed and tamped down on his emotions. There’d been enough of those lately. “Don’t be a stranger.”

“We got coffee yesterday, loser,” Lane pointed out, laughing.

“Love you too, jerk.”

“Whatever. Tell my brother to text me.”

And before he could respond, the line was dead. Typical.

When he returned to the kitchen, Ingrid was wiping away tears and the ache in his chest returned tenfold. Wes was comforting her, both of their mugs abandoned, the burner on the stove turned off.

“What happened?”

Ingrid waved him off even as Matt closed the space between them, pulling her into his chest.

“Nothing, it’s nothing. I miss her, that’s all.”

He knew better than to say Delaney missed her too, that the two of them just needed to get their shit together. They were soulmates, and everyone seemed to know it but them.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know she’d be calling…” Wesley mumbled.

“Of course not. You don’t have to apologize for that. This is just...messy, that’s all. I think I’m gonna head home.”

“You don’t have to go,” Wes said. “Stay, have breakfast, watch hockey.”

“You sure?” Ingrid still looked skeptical.

“All this french toast isn’t gonna eat itself,” Matt declared, snatching up a piece off the plate and taking a generous bite.

“Something tells me you’d have no problem devouring every last piece of that with no help from me.” But Ingrid snagged her own piece and smiled. It felt mostly like old times and the tension that had been lingering in him since Hudson slowly ebbed.

After the game ended, while they were waiting on Wesley getting their pizza, Ingrid nudged him, snuggling against his shoulder.

“You should call him.”

“Who?”

“Jimmy.”

“Yeah?” Matt wondered how Ingrid had him so figured out.

“Maybe invite him down. I mean, they have to let them out of there at some point, right?” she teased.

“It’s a school, Ingrid, not a prison.”

“Exactly. So call him. Your territory. A little safer.”

“Yeah,” he agreed. “Alright.”

He half expected Jimmy not to answer as he nervously paced the living room. He could feel Ingrid decidedly not watching him from the couch, which helped, for some reason.

“Everything okay?” Matt could practically count on one hand the number of times he and Jimmy had spoken on the phone. All of them had been cursory greetings, usually while Matt was deployed, at the behest of Jimmy’s mom.

“Yeah. It’s fine. I’m fine.” It felt good not to lie. “Just kinda disappointed our weekend got cut short.”

“Yeah?”

“So, I was wondering if you maybe wanted to come down here? Do a weekend?”

“Like, in the city? Hell yeah.”

He must’ve been smiling, because he caught sight of Ingrid beaming back at him from the couch, and Matt wished he had a pillow to chuck at her.

As it turned out, mending bridges was a lot easier than he’d thought. There was work to be done, but today, it felt doable. That was a victory all in itself.

[jonathanbelloblog]

What Do Real People Think of the New 2019 Ford Ranger?

Ford moved more than 900,000 F-series pickup trucks in the U.S. last year, and even before you begin factoring in the hundreds of thousands of GM and Ram trucks also sold, that makes it pretty clear America is crazy about trucks. But until only very recently, most of the newest and best options were full-size models. What about smaller pickups? We’re willing to bet many full-size buyers—and particularly those of the F-series—are former owners of the old Ford Ranger, which was discontinued in late 2011 but sold more than 350,000 examples annually at its peak.

Now the Ranger is back—more specifically an updated version of the model available globally since 2011—to contest the hot mid-size truck segment that includes the Chevrolet Colorado, GMC Canyon, and the bestselling Toyota Tacoma, which alone saw its sales leap by nearly 25 percent in 2018. I know our opinion of Ford’s newest truck, but I wondered what today’s truck shoppers think, so I took a top-spec Ranger Lariat SuperCrew and put it in front of three potential buyers.

Whitney | 34, owner of a horse-training business

Whitney loves trucks and uses them as intended; her working life with horses sees to that. And along with her husband, she’s a keen off-roader. Whitney recently (and reluctantly) sold her 1998 Ranger, as it had nearly 300,000 miles. Climbing into the new model, Whitney immediately asked questions about the controls. “It’s got a rear locking differential,” she said excitedly. “Most people don’t understand how those work.” That traction-enhancing tool is a $420 option or comes bundled with the $1295 FX4 Off-Road Package fitted to the test vehicle.

Once behind the wheel and on the move, Whitney noted, “I like the size. It’s bigger than my old Ranger. It’s refined and feels much newer, yet I really like the ‘trucky’ feel. Inside, it feels like an SUV. It’s very comfortable.” As she continued her drive, Whitney admitted, “I really miss my Ranger. I don’t want a full-size pickup due to [the difficulty] parking downtown.” She then squeezed the throttle closer to the floor. As our speed increased, I asked her what she thinks is under hood. “A V-6?” she wondered. Whitney was surprised to learn the Ranger uses a turbocharged four-cylinder, but it isn’t an issue. Nor is the standard stop-start system. “I notice it working but it doesn’t bother me,” she noted. “I like that it saves fuel.”

We arrived at a busy parking lot, where the Ranger’s maneuverability impressed but its rear seat did not. “I wish the backrest folded flat,” she said. “I really need a level surface for my dog and hauling stuff.” Flipping up the seat base reveals two not particularly large plastic storage bins. She’d prefer a flat floor. Plus, there’s no 60/40 split. GM and Toyota both have Ford strongly beat in this important area; there’s no trunk in a pickup and the rear seat serves as a versatile, secure storage area for many owners. Perhaps the next-generation Ranger  will offer improvements.

Overall, Whitney is a big fan of the Ranger and it’s on her radar for a future purchase, although she may wait for a used example, she said, considering the as-tested price of $44,240. “If I were in the market for a new vehicle, I’d want a Ranger,” she said. “It’s easy to drive and easy to park. But it feels like a truck, which is a good thing.”

Ben | 30, real-estate developer 

Ben has never owned a pickup, but he grew up on land with an apple orchard and has driven many trucks. He now lives in the upscale East Grand Rapids area and drives a Jeep Grand Cherokee. Previously, he owned a BMW 335xi. Ben’s now eyeing a new Jeep Gladiator, but he’s intrigued by the Ranger. “I like the idea of a four-door pickup for the SUV-like passenger compartment, but I’d use a tonneau-covered bed for stuff I don’t want inside the cabin.” Like Whitney, a full-size truck isn’t on his radar due to regularly parking downtown.

It took Ben just minutes behind the wheel of the Ranger to voice his disdain for the stop-start system and inquire about a Ranger Raptor. As he put on a few more miles in city traffic, he talked about the engine. “It’s not super-responsive,” he said. “There’s some lag and surging but it feels better at higher speeds. It sure has more power than my [V-6] Grand Cherokee”

Early in the drive, Ben thought the Ranger’s ride quality was SUV-like, but that was before we headed down a frost-heaved country road. “It reminds me of a Ford Super Duty!” he said. “Will a Gladiator ride similarly? Maybe I shouldn’t get a pickup truck! The Ranger feels like a truck, which isn’t ideal for me.” I explained the FX4 suspension setup as well as the heavier, stiffer optional LT tires, which both hurt ride quality. Over the course of the conversation, we both agreed on the Honda Ridgeline as the best option for his needs—if it didn’t look like a boring Pilot with a bed tacked on.

Ben continued to voice his eagerness to test drive a Gladiator, specifically an off-road-oriented Rubicon. “Would you skip the Rubicon if it meant a smoother ride?” I probed. “No,” he said. “The cool factor of the Rubicon—the off-road features and styling—is worth any sacrifices.”

“I like the Ford,” Ben said, “but it needs something. Maybe KC lights, a roll bar, or fender flares. But it’s still cool and I bet they’ll sell a ton. I think I’d consider a Ranger if there wasn’t the Gladiator. And if a Ranger Raptor were coming soon”—while one is sold elsewhere, we won’t get it until the next-generation model—“I’d maybe wait on the Jeep. But since that’s not happening, I’ll stick with a Gladiator.”

Jamie | 54, racing and fabrication shop owner

Jamie is a longtime truck buyer. He’s owned seven new Ford F-series since 1997 and currently drives an F-150 with a 5.0-liter V-8. “I thought about buying the EcoBoost,” he told me. “But a friend has one and he gets worse mileage.” Jamie is a larger fellow and likes the interior space of his full-size truck. But he doesn’t actually need a full-size truck, or a truck at all. “I drive my F-150 like a car. I occasionally put people in the back seat but use that area for my stuff.”

“I’d consider a Ranger, for sure,” he said. “I also thought about a diesel GM mid-size pickup.” He then asked about the output of the Ranger’s engine. “270 horsepower and 310 lb-ft of torque,” I told him. That impressed him. As he drove the Ranger, he commented on the light steering but said it was fine. He had plenty of room in the driver’s seat, though the back seat was a tight fit. It didn’t take long for Jamie to explore the Ranger’s power. “It’s faster than my F-150,” he noted. “And I like the [10-speed automatic] transmission. It’s smooth when driving slowly yet shifts seamlessly under power.” Then the stop-start system kicked in. “I’d disable it if I bought a Ranger—permanently,” he said.

As Jamie drove on, he commented on the ride. “It’s harsher than my F-150, surely due to the shorter wheelbase.” We then talked further about EcoBoost. “The Ranger’s engine note is fine, but my hearing isn’t great from working on racing engines,” he noted. “I’m a bit old school and like bigger engines. But I’m open to downsizing. I’m fine with the engine setup in the Ranger.” He then merged onto the highway. “It’s effortless,” he added. “I’m going 82 mph and it feels like 70 mph.” He later kicked it up to 95 mph and was very happy. “Plus, the Ranger rides better than my F-150 on this stretch of highway,” he noted.

But then the inevitable financial chat began. “I’d consider a Ranger over an F-150, but pricing is key,” Jamie said. “If I could get a Ranger and save $7500, I’d go that route. Otherwise, I’ll just buy another F-150, as the extra space is nice.” A direct price comparison between the Ranger and F-150 is tricky due to content differences, but it’s around $10,000. Yet there are usually strong incentives on the F-150—think multiple thousands of dollars—and Ford has yet to offer much of anything back on the Ranger. Thus it’s unlikely the Ranger is going to steal a ton of traditional F-150 buyers like Jamie, but Ford is probably okay with that—it makes money when it sells either one.

***

All three members of my little focus group were impressed with the Ranger. It’s clearly a better fit for Whitney and Ben, but Jamie still sees the mid-size Ford as a proper truck. I like it, too, especially the power, transmission, profile, and footprint. Ride quality is a concern, particularly with the FX4 suspension and LT tires, and real-world fuel mileage isn’t fantastic—just under 17 mpg, according to the trip computer. That’s significantly thirstier than the EPA numbers (20 mpg city, 24 highway, and 22 combined). More downsides include a lack of interior flexibility and the lower-grade interior materials, plus it needs a factory trailer-brake controller option to complement its 7500-pound towing capacity. Despite these things, though, the Ranger has a lot going for it and it’s a competitive addition to the segment. Based on the execution of the 2019 Ranger, I’m eager to see where it goes from here.

IFTTT

[jesusvasser]

What Do Real People Think of the New 2019 Ford Ranger?

Ford moved more than 900,000 F-series pickup trucks in the U.S. last year, and even before you begin factoring in the hundreds of thousands of GM and Ram trucks also sold, that makes it pretty clear America is crazy about trucks. But until only very recently, most of the newest and best options were full-size models. What about smaller pickups? We’re willing to bet many full-size buyers—and particularly those of the F-series—are former owners of the old Ford Ranger, which was discontinued in late 2011 but sold more than 350,000 examples annually at its peak.

Now the Ranger is back—more specifically an updated version of the model available globally since 2011—to contest the hot mid-size truck segment that includes the Chevrolet Colorado, GMC Canyon, and the bestselling Toyota Tacoma, which alone saw its sales leap by nearly 25 percent in 2018. I know our opinion of Ford’s newest truck, but I wondered what today’s truck shoppers think, so I took a top-spec Ranger Lariat SuperCrew and put it in front of three potential buyers.

Whitney | 34, owner of a horse-training business

Whitney loves trucks and uses them as intended; her working life with horses sees to that. And along with her husband, she’s a keen off-roader. Whitney recently (and reluctantly) sold her 1998 Ranger, as it had nearly 300,000 miles. Climbing into the new model, Whitney immediately asked questions about the controls. “It’s got a rear locking differential,” she said excitedly. “Most people don’t understand how those work.” That traction-enhancing tool is a $420 option or comes bundled with the $1295 FX4 Off-Road Package fitted to the test vehicle.

Once behind the wheel and on the move, Whitney noted, “I like the size. It’s bigger than my old Ranger. It’s refined and feels much newer, yet I really like the ‘trucky’ feel. Inside, it feels like an SUV. It’s very comfortable.” As she continued her drive, Whitney admitted, “I really miss my Ranger. I don’t want a full-size pickup due to [the difficulty] parking downtown.” She then squeezed the throttle closer to the floor. As our speed increased, I asked her what she thinks is under hood. “A V-6?” she wondered. Whitney was surprised to learn the Ranger uses a turbocharged four-cylinder, but it isn’t an issue. Nor is the standard stop-start system. “I notice it working but it doesn’t bother me,” she noted. “I like that it saves fuel.”

We arrived at a busy parking lot, where the Ranger’s maneuverability impressed but its rear seat did not. “I wish the backrest folded flat,” she said. “I really need a level surface for my dog and hauling stuff.” Flipping up the seat base reveals two not particularly large plastic storage bins. She’d prefer a flat floor. Plus, there’s no 60/40 split. GM and Toyota both have Ford strongly beat in this important area; there’s no trunk in a pickup and the rear seat serves as a versatile, secure storage area for many owners. Perhaps the next-generation Ranger  will offer improvements.

Overall, Whitney is a big fan of the Ranger and it’s on her radar for a future purchase, although she may wait for a used example, she said, considering the as-tested price of $44,240. “If I were in the market for a new vehicle, I’d want a Ranger,” she said. “It’s easy to drive and easy to park. But it feels like a truck, which is a good thing.”

Ben | 30, real-estate developer 

Ben has never owned a pickup, but he grew up on land with an apple orchard and has driven many trucks. He now lives in the upscale East Grand Rapids area and drives a Jeep Grand Cherokee. Previously, he owned a BMW 335xi. Ben’s now eyeing a new Jeep Gladiator, but he’s intrigued by the Ranger. “I like the idea of a four-door pickup for the SUV-like passenger compartment, but I’d use a tonneau-covered bed for stuff I don’t want inside the cabin.” Like Whitney, a full-size truck isn’t on his radar due to regularly parking downtown.

It took Ben just minutes behind the wheel of the Ranger to voice his disdain for the stop-start system and inquire about a Ranger Raptor. As he put on a few more miles in city traffic, he talked about the engine. “It’s not super-responsive,” he said. “There’s some lag and surging but it feels better at higher speeds. It sure has more power than my [V-6] Grand Cherokee”

Early in the drive, Ben thought the Ranger’s ride quality was SUV-like, but that was before we headed down a frost-heaved country road. “It reminds me of a Ford Super Duty!” he said. “Will a Gladiator ride similarly? Maybe I shouldn’t get a pickup truck! The Ranger feels like a truck, which isn’t ideal for me.” I explained the FX4 suspension setup as well as the heavier, stiffer optional LT tires, which both hurt ride quality. Over the course of the conversation, we both agreed on the Honda Ridgeline as the best option for his needs—if it didn’t look like a boring Pilot with a bed tacked on.

Ben continued to voice his eagerness to test drive a Gladiator, specifically an off-road-oriented Rubicon. “Would you skip the Rubicon if it meant a smoother ride?” I probed. “No,” he said. “The cool factor of the Rubicon—the off-road features and styling—is worth any sacrifices.”

“I like the Ford,” Ben said, “but it needs something. Maybe KC lights, a roll bar, or fender flares. But it’s still cool and I bet they’ll sell a ton. I think I’d consider a Ranger if there wasn’t the Gladiator. And if a Ranger Raptor were coming soon”—while one is sold elsewhere, we won’t get it until the next-generation model—“I’d maybe wait on the Jeep. But since that’s not happening, I’ll stick with a Gladiator.”

Jamie | 54, racing and fabrication shop owner

Jamie is a longtime truck buyer. He’s owned seven new Ford F-series since 1997 and currently drives an F-150 with a 5.0-liter V-8. “I thought about buying the EcoBoost,” he told me. “But a friend has one and he gets worse mileage.” Jamie is a larger fellow and likes the interior space of his full-size truck. But he doesn’t actually need a full-size truck, or a truck at all. “I drive my F-150 like a car. I occasionally put people in the back seat but use that area for my stuff.”

“I’d consider a Ranger, for sure,” he said. “I also thought about a diesel GM mid-size pickup.” He then asked about the output of the Ranger’s engine. “270 horsepower and 310 lb-ft of torque,” I told him. That impressed him. As he drove the Ranger, he commented on the light steering but said it was fine. He had plenty of room in the driver’s seat, though the back seat was a tight fit. It didn’t take long for Jamie to explore the Ranger’s power. “It’s faster than my F-150,” he noted. “And I like the [10-speed automatic] transmission. It’s smooth when driving slowly yet shifts seamlessly under power.” Then the stop-start system kicked in. “I’d disable it if I bought a Ranger—permanently,” he said.

As Jamie drove on, he commented on the ride. “It’s harsher than my F-150, surely due to the shorter wheelbase.” We then talked further about EcoBoost. “The Ranger’s engine note is fine, but my hearing isn’t great from working on racing engines,” he noted. “I’m a bit old school and like bigger engines. But I’m open to downsizing. I’m fine with the engine setup in the Ranger.” He then merged onto the highway. “It’s effortless,” he added. “I’m going 82 mph and it feels like 70 mph.” He later kicked it up to 95 mph and was very happy. “Plus, the Ranger rides better than my F-150 on this stretch of highway,” he noted.

But then the inevitable financial chat began. “I’d consider a Ranger over an F-150, but pricing is key,” Jamie said. “If I could get a Ranger and save $7500, I’d go that route. Otherwise, I’ll just buy another F-150, as the extra space is nice.” A direct price comparison between the Ranger and F-150 is tricky due to content differences, but it’s around $10,000. Yet there are usually strong incentives on the F-150—think multiple thousands of dollars—and Ford has yet to offer much of anything back on the Ranger. Thus it’s unlikely the Ranger is going to steal a ton of traditional F-150 buyers like Jamie, but Ford is probably okay with that—it makes money when it sells either one.

***

All three members of my little focus group were impressed with the Ranger. It’s clearly a better fit for Whitney and Ben, but Jamie still sees the mid-size Ford as a proper truck. I like it, too, especially the power, transmission, profile, and footprint. Ride quality is a concern, particularly with the FX4 suspension and LT tires, and real-world fuel mileage isn’t fantastic—just under 17 mpg, according to the trip computer. That’s significantly thirstier than the EPA numbers (20 mpg city, 24 highway, and 22 combined). More downsides include a lack of interior flexibility and the lower-grade interior materials, plus it needs a factory trailer-brake controller option to complement its 7500-pound towing capacity. Despite these things, though, the Ranger has a lot going for it and it’s a competitive addition to the segment. Based on the execution of the 2019 Ranger, I’m eager to see where it goes from here.

IFTTT

[eddiejpoplar]

What Do Real People Think of the New 2019 Ford Ranger?

Ford moved more than 900,000 F-series pickup trucks in the U.S. last year, and even before you begin factoring in the hundreds of thousands of GM and Ram trucks also sold, that makes it pretty clear America is crazy about trucks. But until only very recently, most of the newest and best options were full-size models. What about smaller pickups? We’re willing to bet many full-size buyers—and particularly those of the F-series—are former owners of the old Ford Ranger, which was discontinued in late 2011 but sold more than 350,000 examples annually at its peak.

Now the Ranger is back—more specifically an updated version of the model available globally since 2011—to contest the hot mid-size truck segment that includes the Chevrolet Colorado, GMC Canyon, and the bestselling Toyota Tacoma, which alone saw its sales leap by nearly 25 percent in 2018. I know our opinion of Ford’s newest truck, but I wondered what today’s truck shoppers think, so I took a top-spec Ranger Lariat SuperCrew and put it in front of three potential buyers.

Whitney | 34, owner of a horse-training business

Whitney loves trucks and uses them as intended; her working life with horses sees to that. And along with her husband, she’s a keen off-roader. Whitney recently (and reluctantly) sold her 1998 Ranger, as it had nearly 300,000 miles. Climbing into the new model, Whitney immediately asked questions about the controls. “It’s got a rear locking differential,” she said excitedly. “Most people don’t understand how those work.” That traction-enhancing tool is a $420 option or comes bundled with the $1295 FX4 Off-Road Package fitted to the test vehicle.

Once behind the wheel and on the move, Whitney noted, “I like the size. It’s bigger than my old Ranger. It’s refined and feels much newer, yet I really like the ‘trucky’ feel. Inside, it feels like an SUV. It’s very comfortable.” As she continued her drive, Whitney admitted, “I really miss my Ranger. I don’t want a full-size pickup due to [the difficulty] parking downtown.” She then squeezed the throttle closer to the floor. As our speed increased, I asked her what she thinks is under hood. “A V-6?” she wondered. Whitney was surprised to learn the Ranger uses a turbocharged four-cylinder, but it isn’t an issue. Nor is the standard stop-start system. “I notice it working but it doesn’t bother me,” she noted. “I like that it saves fuel.”

We arrived at a busy parking lot, where the Ranger’s maneuverability impressed but its rear seat did not. “I wish the backrest folded flat,” she said. “I really need a level surface for my dog and hauling stuff.” Flipping up the seat base reveals two not particularly large plastic storage bins. She’d prefer a flat floor. Plus, there’s no 60/40 split. GM and Toyota both have Ford strongly beat in this important area; there’s no trunk in a pickup and the rear seat serves as a versatile, secure storage area for many owners. Perhaps the next-generation Ranger  will offer improvements.

Overall, Whitney is a big fan of the Ranger and it’s on her radar for a future purchase, although she may wait for a used example, she said, considering the as-tested price of $44,240. “If I were in the market for a new vehicle, I’d want a Ranger,” she said. “It’s easy to drive and easy to park. But it feels like a truck, which is a good thing.”

Ben | 30, real-estate developer 

Ben has never owned a pickup, but he grew up on land with an apple orchard and has driven many trucks. He now lives in the upscale East Grand Rapids area and drives a Jeep Grand Cherokee. Previously, he owned a BMW 335xi. Ben’s now eyeing a new Jeep Gladiator, but he’s intrigued by the Ranger. “I like the idea of a four-door pickup for the SUV-like passenger compartment, but I’d use a tonneau-covered bed for stuff I don’t want inside the cabin.” Like Whitney, a full-size truck isn’t on his radar due to regularly parking downtown.

It took Ben just minutes behind the wheel of the Ranger to voice his disdain for the stop-start system and inquire about a Ranger Raptor. As he put on a few more miles in city traffic, he talked about the engine. “It’s not super-responsive,” he said. “There’s some lag and surging but it feels better at higher speeds. It sure has more power than my [V-6] Grand Cherokee”

Early in the drive, Ben thought the Ranger’s ride quality was SUV-like, but that was before we headed down a frost-heaved country road. “It reminds me of a Ford Super Duty!” he said. “Will a Gladiator ride similarly? Maybe I shouldn’t get a pickup truck! The Ranger feels like a truck, which isn’t ideal for me.” I explained the FX4 suspension setup as well as the heavier, stiffer optional LT tires, which both hurt ride quality. Over the course of the conversation, we both agreed on the Honda Ridgeline as the best option for his needs—if it didn’t look like a boring Pilot with a bed tacked on.

Ben continued to voice his eagerness to test drive a Gladiator, specifically an off-road-oriented Rubicon. “Would you skip the Rubicon if it meant a smoother ride?” I probed. “No,” he said. “The cool factor of the Rubicon—the off-road features and styling—is worth any sacrifices.”

“I like the Ford,” Ben said, “but it needs something. Maybe KC lights, a roll bar, or fender flares. But it’s still cool and I bet they’ll sell a ton. I think I’d consider a Ranger if there wasn’t the Gladiator. And if a Ranger Raptor were coming soon”—while one is sold elsewhere, we won’t get it until the next-generation model—“I’d maybe wait on the Jeep. But since that’s not happening, I’ll stick with a Gladiator.”

Jamie | 54, racing and fabrication shop owner

Jamie is a longtime truck buyer. He’s owned seven new Ford F-series since 1997 and currently drives an F-150 with a 5.0-liter V-8. “I thought about buying the EcoBoost,” he told me. “But a friend has one and he gets worse mileage.” Jamie is a larger fellow and likes the interior space of his full-size truck. But he doesn’t actually need a full-size truck, or a truck at all. “I drive my F-150 like a car. I occasionally put people in the back seat but use that area for my stuff.”

“I’d consider a Ranger, for sure,” he said. “I also thought about a diesel GM mid-size pickup.” He then asked about the output of the Ranger’s engine. “270 horsepower and 310 lb-ft of torque,” I told him. That impressed him. As he drove the Ranger, he commented on the light steering but said it was fine. He had plenty of room in the driver’s seat, though the back seat was a tight fit. It didn’t take long for Jamie to explore the Ranger’s power. “It’s faster than my F-150,” he noted. “And I like the [10-speed automatic] transmission. It’s smooth when driving slowly yet shifts seamlessly under power.” Then the stop-start system kicked in. “I’d disable it if I bought a Ranger—permanently,” he said.

As Jamie drove on, he commented on the ride. “It’s harsher than my F-150, surely due to the shorter wheelbase.” We then talked further about EcoBoost. “The Ranger’s engine note is fine, but my hearing isn’t great from working on racing engines,” he noted. “I’m a bit old school and like bigger engines. But I’m open to downsizing. I’m fine with the engine setup in the Ranger.” He then merged onto the highway. “It’s effortless,” he added. “I’m going 82 mph and it feels like 70 mph.” He later kicked it up to 95 mph and was very happy. “Plus, the Ranger rides better than my F-150 on this stretch of highway,” he noted.

But then the inevitable financial chat began. “I’d consider a Ranger over an F-150, but pricing is key,” Jamie said. “If I could get a Ranger and save $7500, I’d go that route. Otherwise, I’ll just buy another F-150, as the extra space is nice.” A direct price comparison between the Ranger and F-150 is tricky due to content differences, but it’s around $10,000. Yet there are usually strong incentives on the F-150—think multiple thousands of dollars—and Ford has yet to offer much of anything back on the Ranger. Thus it’s unlikely the Ranger is going to steal a ton of traditional F-150 buyers like Jamie, but Ford is probably okay with that—it makes money when it sells either one.

***

All three members of my little focus group were impressed with the Ranger. It’s clearly a better fit for Whitney and Ben, but Jamie still sees the mid-size Ford as a proper truck. I like it, too, especially the power, transmission, profile, and footprint. Ride quality is a concern, particularly with the FX4 suspension and LT tires, and real-world fuel mileage isn’t fantastic—just under 17 mpg, according to the trip computer. That’s significantly thirstier than the EPA numbers (20 mpg city, 24 highway, and 22 combined). More downsides include a lack of interior flexibility and the lower-grade interior materials, plus it needs a factory trailer-brake controller option to complement its 7500-pound towing capacity. Despite these things, though, the Ranger has a lot going for it and it’s a competitive addition to the segment. Based on the execution of the 2019 Ranger, I’m eager to see where it goes from here.

IFTTT

[desperate-thursday-blog]

How has stigma surrounding mental health affected you?

Tackling stigma surrounding mental health will not fix everything; less cuts and more funding is needed too, but it is a start.

I responded to The Guardian newspaper when they were asking for people’s personal experiences of stigma surrounding mental illness. Here is what I wrote:

Tell us a bit more about yourself - age, job and any other information

My name is Sophie, I’m 28 and I am a support worker at a mental health recovery service. In my free time I am learning British Sign Language, taking a life drawing class and I’m nearly a black belt in karate. I still live at home but I’m planning for my future. I lead a pretty happy life, but, as with anyone this is not always the case - like a quarter of the population I have mental health issues. I’m diagnosed with borderline personality disorder (BPD or emotionally unstable personality disorder) and I have battled depression, OCD and disordered eating. I’ve been receiving treatment and on medication from the age of 15.

Tell us about your specific experiences of stigma surrounding mental health

• When I was in school it inevitably became clear to those around me that I was mentally unwell, I was referred to CAMHS (child and adolescent mental health services), but my mental ill health was kept a secret from my school friends and extended family. At the time I thought this was okay, normal, but looking back it was covering up mental illness like it was something to be ashamed of. I went along with stories my parents would invent as to where I’d been when I was in hospital or why I had to go to the library instead of going to class. This taught me to keep my mental health issues a secret and that if anyone found out I would be judged. My parents hadn’t encountered mental illness before, they were just doing what they thought was right to protect me from the stigma out there surrounding mental health, they did not get the carers support they needed. • At age 16 when applying for college my psychiatrist advised me and my Mother not to inform colleges of my mental health issues as I might not get accepted and may be treated differently. We took this advice, after all it came from a professional, and did not notify my chosen college. I got in, but I missed out on the extra support that would have been available to me had they known, which could have eased stress and helped improve my grades. • I ordered a taxi once to drop me off at my psychiatric clinic, the taxi driver was chatty and started up a friendly conversation, he knew of the clinic and referred to is as the “mad house”. He went on to ask me if I worked there, I told him no and that I had an appointment. The driver was in disbelief and started to quiz me about “what was wrong” with me. I knew I didn’t have to answer his questions, but I thought I might be able to change his incorrect view of what someone with a mental health issue looks like (as we know, mental health problems can affect anyone). “A pretty girl like you?” he said as I got out of the car but I believe I made him think. • After graduating University I went to visit a friend, he said I could only stay for a few nights - until his brother/housemate got back - because he didn’t want me in the house while he slept. When I asked why my friend told me it was because his brother was aware of my mental health issues and was scared that he might “wake up to find me standing over him with a knife, or something”, he thought I might try to kill him. I was of course shocked to discover he felt this way, I thought back to conversations I’d had with him in the past and how I never would have guessed he had such incorrect views on mental health. The negative attitudes he had clearly came from a lack of knowledge and understanding, but I thought he should have known better as he was a police officer. • One of the ways I tried to cope with having mental ill health growing up was by self harming, which has left me with scars (on my arms). These marks visibly show some kind of mental unwell-being, where mental health usually can’t be seen or recognised that easily. In the summer of 2015 (after BPD awareness day) I decided that I would suffer the heat no longer and stop covering up my arms in jumpers. I was a cashier so this meant being face to face with members of the public, albeit for a few minutes each. I thought I had prepared myself for the reactions I would get from customers, but I was surprised by what I faced; some people’s reactions came from a good place, showing concern and saying something supportive before they walked away, but some people had very incorrect and negative attitudes toward mental illness and were not afraid to express it. I had people tut, look at me in disgust, question me and make careless remarks like “Stupid girl!”. These reactions did knock my confidence and made me feel bad. I felt like I could not defend myself or explain to them why I might have hurt myself and how it was out of my control. I continued to wear T-shirts despite the negativity and as regular customers got used to it the comments got less and less.

How do you think stigma surrounding mental health should be tackled?

• I think communication and education is the key to end stigma and discrimination. • I would like to see a rise in active campaigns set up to end stigma surrounding mental health which involve willing people with personal experience of mental health problems talking about themselves and sharing their experiences with the community. • I think there should be more correct and informative news coverage when involving the issue of mental health and a zero tolerance policy on negative stereotyping in the media. • More attention should be paid to people who act as the support network of someone who is mentally unwell, i.e. family, friends, carers. They need to learn about the individual’s mental health condition/s, triggers and early warning signs just as much as the person who is unwell. 
They would also benefit from talking about how being a part of someone’s support network effects them and their own personal mental health.

Do you have anything to add?

I have had some positive responses to being open about my mental health in education and the workplace. • I moved away to study after college and -following previous advice from my psychiatrist- did not inform the University of my mental health problems. This was dangerous and both my mental and physical health deteriorated. In my final year I had a breakdown and was forced to come clean to my personal tutor about my mental health conditions. The University responded quickly, efficiently and in a caring manner. I was signed off sick for a short period and I appealed to the Dean on the University to modify one of my more practical modules so that I could work from home when I felt ready. This was passed and I was able to graduate without having to retake the year. During the last few semesters I regularly saw the departments well-being officer who provided me with a great deal of emotional support. • My current employers have recently had to deal with me experiencing a relapse in my mental health, they could not have dealt with the matter any better. I definitely consider myself one of the lucky ones with good, understanding employers, they have been extremely supportive. They have made a number of adjustments to make my work life as stress-free as possible; I was transferred to work in a hub closer to home, my number of contracted hours has been temporarily changed from 37.5 to 30 (giving me one weekday to attend therapy), I have more frequent supervisions with my manager in which I can discuss any difficulties/issues, and my caseload was reduced. I am very grateful. They set a shining example of how companies should support employees who suffer mental ill health whist working for them.

If you would like to share any of your own personal experiences of stigma surrounding mental health on this blog you can contact me using my ask box or by sending me a personal message.