#multiple fractures

[moonblossom]

Where I've been for a week...

This gets graphic about physical injury below the cut, so please don't read if that's something you're not up for right now. TL;DR I fell down the stairs and massively fucked up both my legs.

So last Tuesday, I was working from home as I usually do. I went upstairs to have a coffee and some banana bread my dad made. While up there, I realised I'd forgotten to set my work phone to DND so I hurried up and ran down the stairs to my room where my office is.

Big mistake.

The stairs into my room are varnished wood, awkward heights, and not very well lit. I slipped and missed my footing, which has happened a million times before.

This is where things get unpleasant. Read on with caution.

Somehow, both the tibia and fibula in my right leg snapped in half with enough force to drive them both through the front of my shin.

I was in and out of consciousness, but I do remember being surrounded by what felt like 40 EMTs (was closer to ten according to my folks - three ambulances showed up), one of whom was utterly charmed by my lizard. He looked about twelve. Bless him for distracting me while one of his partners cut open my favourite lounge pants and shoved the bones back inside my leg. I was not wearing underwear at the time.

We get to the Montreal General Hospital in... mediocre time, due to a fuckton of construction and detours. Bienvenue a Montreal, fuck right off.

They put me straight into a trauma unit and pumped me full of fentanyl and antibiotics. I vaguely remember one of the EMTs referring to my pain level as a "fifteen out of ten". They checked my entire body to make sure nothing else was injured, both manual and ultrasound to make sure I still had my spleen and shit. Thankfully, all my innards are still functional. They cut the remaining shreds of my pants off but managed to get my tank top off without too much drama. Someone was kind enough to drape a hospital gown over my boobs and... possibly my crotch? I was in too much pain to give a crap at this point.

They manage to take a few x-rays while I curse them and their ancestors and the hospital and just... the entire fucking world, and then fill me up with some delightful cocktail of propofol and ketamine. I remember very little after this point, but apparently they yanked my leg into place, noticing my right left ankle was severely sprained in the process. So that was fun. Apparently I cursed a bunch more, and made a bunch of jokes that were likely inappropriate but broke the tension I guess?

I "woke up" from the cocktail feeling like I was underwater, and then convinced I was inside Disney Dreamlight Valley, which frankly was a lovely way to come out of sedation. I think I was picking flowers with Mirabel Madrigal.

At some point during all this nonsense my mother managed to get in touch with my boss who was adamant that I take as long as needed, which was a good thing. My dad came to the hospital with me but they wouldn't let him into the trauma unit. It was very chaotic and crowded and likely gross to watch so I get it.

After the realignment, they pushed my gurney to the space between X-Ray and CT to get better scans. They were both occupied so I sat in the hall for a few minutes and vaguely remember saying "Bonjour, hi!" and "Can I help you?" to random people who passed me. Once a retail worker, always a retail worker, apparently.

CT confirmed I also had a broken bone in my left foot. They moved me into ER main, put a boot on the left and bandaged up the wound. I was told I'd need surgery but they were so overwhelmed (ER was like at 160% capacity or something) so they had no idea when I'd be cleared.

They brought me dinner which claimed to be frittata and mashed potatoes but I'm fairly certain was actually upholstery foam and wallpaper paste. Thankfully it was so unappetizing I didn't eat more than a few bites, because my nurse was like "Hey so you're next on the OR list. If they ask if you ate, say no." XD Bless you Meagan, you saved my arse multiple times. You are a sarcastic, foul-mouthed, adorable angel among nurses (and really all the nurses were lovely). About an hour later they wheel me up to the ER, wash me down as best they can, and start prepping me. I meet the surgeon, who is as brusque and no-nonsense as orthopedic surgeons tend to be, but he did take the time to explain the whole procedure and risks, and make sure I was comfortable and understood.

What they were gonna do was drill down through my knee and insert a titanium rod down the centre of the entire tibia. The fibula was close enough and a clean enough break that it could rely on the tibia's stabilisation. Fun note about this particular surgery - you can walk on it within days of it being installed. No cast or anything!

The anaesthetist suggested a sedative and a spinal block (similar to an epidural) rather than a full unconscious anaesthetic because of my medical history and they're just generally less dangerous. However, it turns out the sheath around my synovial spaces in my spine is made out of fucking Kevlar or something. They bent SEVEN NEEDLES trying to get a shot in. Took about 45 minutes. I was numb so it was nbd but it was like... ten PM at this point and everyone was tired so when the anaesthetist was like "I think we should do a general" I was like "sign me the fuck up where's the consent form" I woke up a few hours later in the PACU (post-anaesthetic care unit) with a titanium upgrade, 37 staples in four separate locations, an incredibly fashionable thigh-high bandage, and my mother at my side. I faded in and out for about an hour and then remember being in a tiny little private room with its own bathroom. A total luxury in our older hospitals (The MGH as an institution has been around since the 1800s and the building I was in was built in 1955 - the bathroom even had adorable black and white tiling typical of the bathrooms of that era). That's pretty much all the dramatic bits of the story. They kept me for a week working with nurses, orthopedic residents, and physiotherapists until they were comfortable enough that I could move around enough at home to attend to my basic needs. I have crutches, a walker, a rolling commode so I can do the needful literally a foot from my med, a desk that slides over my bed, and thankfully two incredibly patient and indulgent parents. I'm fairly certain they never expected to be cleaning their 42 year old daughter's poop out of a bucket, but what can you do?

If anyone is genuinely curious, I have photos and would be willing to write up the hospital stay itself but 90% of it will be me complaining about the other patients on the ward who screamed at the nurses for everything and if I'd been able to walk I would have smothered with a pillow, or the "food" they tried to feed me which got increasingly inedible as the week went on.

If you've read this far, bless you. If you leave a note or message me I'll do my best to reply but I'm floating in and out of a dilaudid-infused haze so it might be a while.

At this point I'm not too proud (or possibly I've just lost whatever shame I had left when they cut my pants off), if you feel like sending me a get-well gift my amazon wishlists are here: general wishes | https://www.amazon.ca/hz/wishlist/ls/1K85M74WULR1N?ref_=wl_share

craft supplies | https://www.amazon.ca/hz/wishlist/ls/PXBKTW4UK0AQ?ref_=wl_share

US wishlist | https://www.amazon.com/hz/wishlist/ls/2MT3KS1ZDZG0O?ref_=wl_share

(stuff will be delivered to my boyfriend and I'll open it whenever I'm allowed to fly down there)

[arthurtaylorlester]

so like do you ever think about john doe

[the-only-nightwing]

@gotham-its-too-early-for-this If it’s any consolation, Batman and I got Joker. He’s locked away for good for now.

- Nightwing

[ratective]

so her name is Coral say hi to coral everybody <3

i like to imagine that the baby gems can inherit things like gem placement from their parents so since corals gem is on her palm like garnets (and still uncomfortably big for her baby hand) pearl made her a little device that protects her gem until shes grown and more mindful and makes it easier to move her left hand more comfortably

[mothboyhalo]

Me sitting here remembering qBad having a conversation with multiples of himself. Ah yes multiple qBads existing simultaneously is a completely new out of left field situation. Fail rp, just like suddenly having amnesia. Totally messed that up because the others don’t understand why he’s here in the island when’s he’s kidnapped. Oh wait not everyone knows everything about everyone?????? And like non of this is new. I get the frustrations but like not taking the time to learn and calling is disrespectful/ fail is????????its improv????? Stuff will be awkward if you don’t know everything/all pov’s

[ambrozians]

the point of a redemption arc for jade, to me, would be something that restores her to the initial essence of her character which was, to put it simply, a morally grey assassin who had zero interest in mass destruction. she made her money and went about her business, sometimes she would enact justice herself, and she can’t wait to retire.

i think there’s been little glimpses of that in the last few years, though most of it is ram v’s doing whenever he could incorporate her into his catwoman and TEC runs. the fact that she’s someone selina can and has sought out for help in the past is a step towards that, in my opinion. but it’s hard to make "morally grey jade" the status quo when so many other writers can’t seem to write her without dousing their writing in so much racism and misogyny. it’s even more difficult when her creator is responsible for some of the most important parts of her character and wrote the very event that took all that away. more writers (and fans) are inclined to engage with a racist and misogynistic depiction of her character than anything else.

[captainsparklefingers]

At this point I don't think anyone should take the Shard or its power. That thing has become a goddamn golden apple of discord for the Hells at a time when they need unity and cohesion, to be on the same page about what to do because the stakes are so high.

The power it offers is tempting. I get that. It would give them an edge up on Ludinus and his cronies. But if Ashton literally exploded trying to absorb the shard, what do you think would happen to any of the others? Yes, Ashton was warned multiple times not to take the power and that he physically couldn't handle it. But what would this do to any other member of Bell's Hells, if that's what it did to their member made of solid rock?

And it's a magnet for the power hungry and ambitious. Delilah has become WAAAAY more active and clearly wants it. Nana Morri, for as much as I love her and as cool as I think she is, does have her reputation for a reason, and she was VERY taken in by the Shard.

And look at the strife it's causing! Ashton, obviously, that happened. Laudna and Delilah. The pressure being put on Fearne by her friends to do something she does not want to do and has SAID she doesn't want it and is afraid of it. This thing is just taking issues that were always there for the Hells (both as individuals and as a group) and dragging them to the surface.

It cannot be worth it. No power is worth this sort of discord and physical risk, and just by having the Shard tucked away in a Bag of Holding, they keep it from Ludinus and stop him from using it. It's not much but it's something.

[ct-hardcase]

In terms of Inquisitor stories I'm hoping that we potentially get someday, I'm looking forward to seeing how the Seventh Sister and Fifth Brother's dynamic got established. While we don't know much about them as a duo before rebels, it's been established that if they're in the same room, they're near each other (be it fighting or just in each other's presence), and they also hate the other's guts. We also know, based on their sparring together in Vader (2017) and their appearance in Rise of the Red Blade (also sparring together and/or Seventh heckling Fifth while around Iskat) that they've been at it since 19BBY and kept it up until 3BBY, which, especially considering the backstabby nature of the inquisitorius, is a long time!

I do ship them, so clearly my questions about/view of them has a bit of a romantic and/or sexual tinge to it, but even completely in the context of a platonic relationship, the question of why those two gravitate to each other fascinates me, given everything else we know about them as characters and how they interact with the other inquisitors.

There's quite a bit of evidence for this on Fifth's end—he doesn't take shit from Reva or Iskat, and the only inquisitor he shows true fealty/respect to is the Grand Inquisitor. Seventh, whether or not you take stock in the numerical rank system, doesn't outrank him, and she'll also openly confront him, so there are similarities among her, Reva, and Iskat in that none of the three of them are doormats. Notably, one could also assume Fifth's attitude skews a bit misogynistic, as he doesn't seem to have the same issues with Eighth or Tualon based on what little we get of those dynamics, but that's a different post.

We've gotten less of Seventh's dynamic with a variety of inquisitors given her comparative lack of content compared to him (not that I'm bitter), but she's clearly headstrong, smart, cruel, and isn't afraid to push others under the bus in order to gain the upper hand in a situation for revenge. Given all this, it's notable that despite their arguing, she consistently works with Fifth and spars with him (which, even Iskat notes that sparring with Seventh is sort of terrifying). Clearly, Seventh's willing to put up with him as much as he's willing to put up with her. Since she isn't that different from Reva and Iskat, all things considered, what was The Thing that did makes Seventh and Fifth tolerate, and even gravitate toward, each other?

Obviously, I have my own ideas for why (up to and including "they want to jump each other's bones about it"), but in terms of guessing what canon may do? I'd estimate that when the two first meet (and they're probably among the earliest to do so/the earlier initiates), Seventh takes Fifth's surliness less personally than the other inquisitors and makes it more into banter, keeps pushing him back. This pisses him off, but the fact that she doesn't back down draws him in, both as a rival and otherwise. Given the fact that he's dyed-in-the-wool committed to the inquisitor cause and less fazed about evildoing, her propensity for cruel and unusual violence may not bother him as much as it would the others. The two of them coming as a set may be process of elimination as much as it is being drawn to the other, honestly.

This bit also didn't really fit anywhere else, but what cements their dynamic as different to me is something I noticed while watching Rebels, where despite the fact that Seventh almost always takes point on missions (and in notable contrast to owk, he usually lets her), the two have what seems to be an unspoken agreement that Fifth is the one interacting with imperial leadership and Vader. By the end, they clearly know each other, even through pointed barbs.

[snoopsday]

family drama is at such a peak rn…the amount of stress this is giving me is insane

[stormneedle]

Parental medical

Parents aren't easy to raise. There are six kids, yeah, but two are on the other coast, and two of us are far enough away that if we help out we need to do sleep overs. We're slowly getting it together.

So, Dad's recovering from his oh so entertaining hospitalizations from last year. Now we're working on stuff he's not been paying attention to. One is his eyesight. It's bad - he's legally blind now. And like his other drugs, he started taking his drops incorrectly. They straightened that out, and added more, so maybe we can arrest the slow failure there.

The other is that his platelets have been low for a long time, and some of his blood work was off. It's been diagnosed as Multiple Myeloma. Whee? Can't be cured, but can be managed. He started chemotherapy yesterday.

My mom is freaking out. Her sisters and brother died from cancers, and she's imagining that the chemo he's going through will treat him like it did her family. I know J and I have tried to calm her down about that, but experience is what's going to show her and not us reading about it.

Dad of course assumed it was all a scam, created by the doctors as a way to make money off him. I pointed out that the conspiracy had to include the lab workers, all the nurses and who knows how many more, so they wouldn't each be getting enough money to break the law like that. Granddaughter C joined in with nobody is that foolish to fake out one patient. So now he's willing to do it, but wants to pay nothing out of pocket. Uhm - he didn't get THAT good of an insurance package. Max will be $8000/y though.

Mom caught him when he fell (syncope?) Christmas Eve. Either that did the damage or exacerbated it, and she has a compression fracture in the thoracic spine. She's in a brace to help, and they're planning on a) getting her bones stronger and b) doing an injection of cement in the affected bone as a healing measure (kyphoplasty).

After she can feel the pain in her hip again, we can look at replacing that joint.

We're starting to have conference calls. Chat messages don't seem to be enough communication.

[yersina]

If you’re still looking for fic requests, how about Han Yoojin’s experience with his leg? How becoming newly disabled for the first time and having people look down on him not only because of his F class status, but also because he physically can’t work for that long before needing a break. His struggles to do simple things like walk to the bathroom, or running.

Then there’s the little things he does after regression because even with his leg healed he still operates with that mental pain. Leaning on things he’s next to, being amazed every time he runs after Peace, or a little sigh of relief every time he’s allowed to sit down.

(Sorry for being long winded, it’s just I always feel like canon could go more into Yoojin’s disability and how it affected him, because he had it for years and it definitely shaped how he currently interacts with the world.)

Yoojin sits in his hospital bed and thinks about his options for a long, long time.

See, this wouldn’t normally be an issue. Yoojin is very careful about budgeting his money: he makes sure to look up any existing information on the dungeons he’s planning on going into, he estimates how much he needs for the week or month or however long he’ll need to last until his next dungeon, he makes concessions for any armor or weapons that he’ll need to buy, he adds in whatever recovery items he’ll need afterwards, and he ensures that he meets that threshold while he’s in the dungeon.

And yet, here he is sitting on a hospital bed for the second time in as many months, almost too woozy from pain to properly sort through what his choices are now.

After all, no one pays a hunter that goes down at the beginning of a dungeon.

“Han Yoojin-nim,” a nurse greets, rapping politely on the door. After checking his IV and vitals, she nods to herself. “Your recovery is going as expected,” she says with a smile. Yoojin can’t bring himself to return it. “We usually try to operate as soon as possible, but it says on your records that you’re a hunter.”

“Yes.”

“We generally encourage hunters to purchase healing potions. They heal much more completely than conventional medicine now.”

Yoojin grits his teeth. He knows. “That’s… not an option for me right now,” he admits reluctantly. He bought a new weapon for this dungeon—he’s out of extra funds for at least a month or two.

There’s a downwards twist to her lips as she continues looking down at his file, one that tells Yoojin that she understands the situation that he’s in right now. “Surgery is the only other option then.”

It’s the answer that he expected, the conclusion that he’d come to a few moments before she’d walked into the room, but it’s still not what he wants to hear. “Fine,” he says, staring up at the ceiling. Surgery will be cheaper than a healing potion, even if the recovery period afterwards is much longer. He doesn’t have the money to support himself while he’s recovering. He’ll probably barely have enough to cover the surgery itself.

Fuck.

The nurse nods once perfunctorily. “We’ll schedule you for the surgery right away then. Have you already been briefed on all of the operations that we’ll need to do?”

“Yes.” And hadn’t that been a fun packet to read through. A comminuted break in his lower leg and a broken kneecap. Recovery might take anywhere from a few months to a year. Just his luck.

“If you need anything, you can always hit the call button.” She points to the remote on the bed next to his arm.

“Thank you,” he says, mostly too tired to be any ruder, and watches her shadow leave the room.

After another moment, he slowly reaches up and balls his fists into his eyes, needing the pressure to keep him grounded. Fuck. Fuck.

Someone had left his cellphone on the bedside table, and he can feel its presence mocking him even with his eyes closed and hunched over on the hospital bed. He knows it’s there, and he knows what he has to do. Under normal circumstances, he wouldn’t even entertain it as a possibility, but he’s genuinely not sure what he’s going to do once he’s out of the hospital.

Oh god, what is he going to do?

After his breathing calms down to a more reasonable tempo, he leaves one hand knuckling his eye ridge and uses the other to fumble for his phone. His thumb pauses over a contact that he hasn’t used in a long, long time.

He taps the contact.

The line rings for much longer than he expects it to. Not that that’s surprising anymore. The line connects. “Hyung, I told you to stop contacting me.”

Ah, the voice that he’s so missed hearing.

“Yoohyun,” he says. He wonders what he must sound like to Yoohyun. He wonders if Yoohyun can even hear the nuance in it anymore. “I need your help.”

The pause that comes is painfully long. Yoojin works on unraveling the hem of his hospital-issued blanket. “What happened?”

Yoojin takes a deep breath. “I was in a dungeon—”

“Didn’t I tell you to stop going into dungeons?” Yoohyun interrupts sharply.

Yoojin glares at the opposite wall. If Yoohyun just listened— “Regardless of whether you did, it’s not any of your business anymore.”

“Doesn’t it become my business when you call me to ask for help?”

This was a mistake. “Never mind,” Yoojin bites out, resigning himself to finding some other avenue of procuring money. He can try taking out a loan at the bank. If nothing else, he’s sure that there are people out there willing to lend to someone dripping with the sheer amount of desperation that Yoojin is.

He hangs up without waiting for any other acknowledgement from Yoohyun and ignores the one attempt at a call back afterwards.

-

Seok Simyeong unfortunately finds him a few hours after his operation. “Han Yoojin-ssi,” he says, like the name leaves a bad taste in his mouth.

Yoojin huffs as much of a laugh as he’s able to. The painkillers make him feel much better, but he’s also so tired. “Seok Simyeong-ssi,” he greets. It’s perhaps the most polite he’s ever been to the man, and it shows in Seok Simyeong’s expression. “Why are you here?”

“The guild leader told me that you called him recently,” he says, still lingering unpleasantly at the entrance of Yoojin’s room. Yoojin hopes that he gets chastised by a nurse for doing so. “I came to find out what you wanted.” And make sure you don’t bother him again goes unsaid.

Yoojin wheezes out another laugh and turns his head towards the window. Maybe if Seok Simyeong had showed up a day or even a few hours ago… Well, there’s no use in dwelling on ‘what if’s. “My surgery went smoothly,” he says, raising an arm as if to say ‘you see?’ “If Yoohyunnie wants to give me a few hundred for the next few months so I can eat, that would be good.” He’s not even being sarcastic. “Maybe throw in another hundred for delivery fees.”

Seok Simyeong presses his lips together like he’s trying to hide a frown. Yoojin wants to tell him that he ought to work on hiding his annoyance better, but that’s not really his problem, is it? “I’ll let him know,” he says stiffly. And then, just like that, he leaves.

Yoojin gives a mental shrug. Well, if he got what he came here for.

Sometime during his physical therapy in the weeks afterwards, Yoojin decides to wander over to the financial administration department of the hospital and finds out that his bill has been transferred to a different party and that any of his out-of-pocket costs will be covered. Yoojin looks down at the paperwork and can’t suppress a laugh.

So, good enough to pay for his hospital costs but not good enough to come and help his hyung with recovery, huh?

-

Recovery takes forever.

Yoojin hates every single second of it. Each moment that he spends languishing in boredom and pain is another moment he feels himself getting weaker and another notch on his anxiety towards going back to dungeoning. He has enough for now to keep himself afloat in relative comfort, but sooner or later he’ll have to return to being a working hunter, and there’s nothing that he dreads more.

Some days, he almost wishes that the pain never stops.

-

“Hey, Yoojin-ssi,” Kim Minchul booms, clapping a heavy hand to Yoojin’s shoulder enthusiastically. Yoojin hisses a curse when his knee buckles under the weight, enough that he stumbles over the even ground outside the dungeon gate. “Whoa, there! Still getting your feet back under you?”

Yoojin gives him a weak smile. There’s no furtive way to rub his knee to ease the ache, so he just leaves it, even though the pain is almost driving him to distraction. His doctor technically hasn’t cleared him for heavy physical activity yet (which, on a scale of fitness, probably lies somewhere below dungeoning), but Yoojin can’t wait any longer. “Not enough to keep me away.”

Kim Minchul beams. “That’s the spirit!” He gives Yoojin another painful slap on the back and wanders off to talk to the other party members.

Kim Minchul is one of the good ones, Yoojin thinks, wobbling over to the nearest chair-height surface and sitting down. It’s why Yoojin chose him as the leader of his first foray back into a dungeon. Yoojin needs someone who won’t mind picking up his slack—or, even if he did mind, be polite enough to not point it out.

The dungeon goes… fine. Painfully. Yoojin is usually flexible enough to switch between the watch group, which checks for any stragglers that the initial dungeon clearing team might have missed, and the mining group, which collects any items that might be valuable, but this time he’s firmly assigned to the mining team. Even that’s harder than it should be, and Yoojin begins lagging behind after an hour of work.

Three hours in, and he feels a hand on his shoulder. “Hey, Yoojin-ssi,” Kim Minchul says with a frown. “I think you should stop.”

Yoojin is drenched in sweat and is wishing desperately for some painkillers, but he can’t stop here. “I can keep going. We still have over half of the job left.” No matter how slow he’s going, it still has to be better than being down a person.

“We do, but I’m worried about your health.” Kim Minchul looks him up and down critically before nodding decisively. “I’m sending you home.” He must spot the look on Yoojin’s face because he adds, “I’ll make sure to send you your share, okay? Just go home and rest.”

So Yoojin goes.

A week later, he gets a check in the mail. It’s definitely less than he should’ve gotten for completing a job of that size, but it’s more than fair for the amount of work that he did. Fair, but still not enough.

Yoojin manages to stick it out for another month before he’s back to dungeoning, this time with someone who’s less likely to step in out of compassion.

-

Yoojin’s leg heals, eventually.

Yoojin’s knee does not.

“Post-traumatic arthritis,” his doctor explains after Yoojin finally gives in and schedules an appointment. “It’s not uncommon after knee injuries. It seems like you have a relatively mild case, thankfully. Try to keep your movement to a comfortable level, and come in again if the pain gets worse.”

And Yoojin tries, he really does. The idea of chronic pain for the rest of his life terrifies him whenever he stops to think about the possibility, and he wants to avoid it if at all possible.

He starts to learn his tells, the way his knee is sometimes stiffer than usual in the morning, or is more prone to buckling under his weight, or pops uncomfortably if he sits or walks for too long. It’s a slow, uncomfortable process, relearning his body like this, but he doesn’t have any other option other than to live with it, so he does.

It gentles, eventually, or maybe it becomes so familiar that it fades to the back of his mind. He learns to budget around his lower income, preferring to err on the side of whole and healthy than richer but debilitated. It sits between his shoulder blades like an itch, the idea that he’s not doing enough, but he grows used to the habit of letting his body decide what’s enough instead of his mind, and he tentatively decides that he’s healthier for it.

-

And then Yoohyun fucking goes and dies for him.

What the fuck.

-

The fact that he literally went back in time doesn’t really sink in until Yoojin’s second day back in the past, when he wakes up and shuffles to the bathroom, and doesn’t get an ache in his knee from standing in the shower.

Even then, he brushes it off as the start to a good day until it’s nearing bed time and he realizes that his knee hasn’t so much as twinged the entire day. Oh, right, he thinks faintly, hand clasped over the knee that fractures three years from now. That hasn’t happened yet.

Still, that moment of enlightenment isn’t enough to break years worth of habits. Yoohyun looks at him concernedly when he chooses to sit instead of stand most of the time, but he never comments on it. Yerim calls him an old man for holding on to the railing whenever they have to go up a flight of stairs. The first time that Yoojin goes for an entire day training (playing with) Peace, he’s genuinely shocked at the end from how good he feels. Tired, but bearable. Normal.

It takes no time at all to accumulate new injuries and wounds to make up for the ones that were washed away by time, but even after weeks and months, he never quite forgets this one that his body doesn’t bear anymore.

[cosmicrhetoric]

choosing between two very real things to use as my excuse when calling out of work today i am nothing if not authentic

[sigmashuffle]

Its about time this fucker felt some real pain...

[mostesteemedgingeroverlord]

Perhaps a month alone in a log cabin would fix me.

[krispiecake]

at some point i am really going to have to see a doctor about my wrist

[falst]

oh my fucking god my family