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When Raj had been in a horrific rock-climbing accident several years earlier, that left him in a full body cast with hundreds of broken bones and a damaged spinal cord, it took him a long time to come to terms with being a paraplegic. Over time he had learnt to live his new life as well as he could, and had even gotten back into extreme sports. He had been looking forward to trying adaptive snowboarding, which he had tried and enjoyed, but to his surprise, the thing he really enjoyed was sit-skiing. He had never gotten into skiing before his spinal cord injury, as he was all about the snowboarding, but sit-skiing was something else. He could get so much power into his jumps, and it was practically like flying. He was spending the weekend skiing in Canada, like he had done for many weekends since he first tried it. He was on his third run of the day, getting in lots of amazing jumps and tricks, when he took a jump a little too fast. Raj knew he was going to crash before he even hit

Rory pulled up to the curb and parked using his car's hand controls. "You got the booze?" he asked, turning to look at his girlfriend Waverley. She was a beautiful, slender woman, with long brown hair, bright blue eyes, and freckles, and tonight she was dressed as a mermaid for Ian and Imogen's Halloween party. Rory himself was wearing white linen pants, and had a pair of white feathered wings strapped to his back, large enough to be visible from both the front and back, but small enough that they hindered neither his ability to drive, nor his ability to push himself in his wheelchair. He also wore a headband with a halo attached by a wire, that made it look as though it were hovering above his head. "Yep!" replied Waverley, picking up a six pack from the floor at her feet. The two of them unbuckled their seatbelts and opened their doors, and while Waverley got out of the car, Rory reached into the back and pulled out his wheelchair, piece by piece. He set it up on the road beside

Point of View: JT Six weeks ago I broke both of my arms playing baseball, and it has been awful. When I'm not in pain, I'm bored. Obviously I can't play any sport, but until last week I couldn't even game either, as both of my arms were in long arm casts and I struggled to hold the controller or mouse. So instead I've been doing a lot of studying, which I hate, but at least it's something to do. Now my right arm is at least a bit more useful, as the cast on it got reduced to a short arm one last week, but it's still a pain, and I cannot wait for this last month to end. I spend the morning playing Call of Duty, but I can barely even do an hour before my wrist starts hurting too much to continue, and decide to work on one of my assignments. There's a book I need to reference that I don't have, so I go the campus library and look up what row it's in. I find the correct row, but the book I need is on a shelf that's too high to reach, and I can't even see the titles to be able to bring

It all happened a few years ago. I had an extensive stay inside a hospital after having a terrible skiing accident: Thirty five year old single me made an error, I was to fast, I wasn’t able to break, I left the slope and ended up in steep, rocky terrain with next to no snow coverage. I crashed hard, I broke a limp or two, I had a near death experience while doing so and in the end a helicopter took me into the next bigger hospital. The doctors in the hospital did everything they could the patch me up, to close my wounds and to screw my bones back together. It took them a few days to do so, and during those days, luckily, I was mostly unconscious. So they practically flew by. When I came to my senses for the first time after the accident I found myself inside a more than decent sized hospital room. Some close family members were sitting on my bedside, and there was more than just some relief on their faces when I opened my eyes, and when we engaged in a conversation shortly after.

Content Warning: This story contains physical violence and ableist slurs. Quinn and Vasquez were studying together in the library when Shane Paxton, one of Quinn's frat brothers, walked passed. Vasquez glared at him once his back was turned. "I don't know how you live with him," he said. "I can barely stand to look at him after what he did to Diego." "Yeah," agreed Quinn. "Moving him like that was beyond fucked up. But Diego doesn't want to do anything about it, and he's the one who got hurt, so..." Vasquez looked at him, a mildly confused expression on his face. "I don't just mean moving him, Quinn." Then it was Quinn's turn to look confused. "What do you mean?" "At the hospital... Diego didn't tell you?" "Tell me what? What are you talking about?" "Shane didn't take him inside to get help," Vasquez explained bitterly. "He dumped him at the door like a sack of potatoes and ran." "WHAT?!" shouted Quinn, both shocked and furious, and multiple hisses of "shhh!" could be