#also my achilles tendon is apparently very nice

[mizkit]

new blog post: physical therapy and stuff

new blog post on https://mizkit.com/physical-therapy-and-stuff/

physical therapy and stuff

A few weeks ago my husband, who is suffering from tendonitis in his achilles, went to have his feet scanned and better insoles found and stuff, and thought it was interesting enough that I should do the same. Especially because I have stupidly wide feet, although as it turns out, they’re apparently only wide, not STUPIDLY wide. That’s something, I guess? Except they remain too wide for most women’s shoes, so, y’know, oh well.

Anyway, so I went in and did this thing and it was in fact interesting. I, uh, overpronate slightly on my left foot (which means it rolls in a bit too much) and underpronate slightly on my right foot (which means it rolls out a bit too much). I suspect the latter is due to having stepped on the dog’s bone very, very hard a couple of years ago and having only extremely recently having fully healed from that. Knock on wood. So on my list of things to do now is exercises to correct my various pronation issues, because I’ve been SO GREAT at exercising in general, right? Right. Feh.

More interesting, though, was that apparently I put like ALL my weight on my heels when I’m standing, so now I have fancy insoles that help to keep me from doing that. I’ve had them about a week now and they’re starting to not hurt my feet as much, and I’m certainly more conscious about where I’m holding my weight, which is the idea. But because I stand on my heels so hard, I guess, she was like, “You get shin splints, yeah?”

Me: uh, no, basically never

her: like when?

me: like…maybe if i’ve walked A LOT?

her: what’s ‘a lot’?

me: IDK, 10+KM? (altho tbh i’ve done 15 & 17km days in the past week and no, i just don’t get shin splints.)

her: oh ok yeah no

But while she was bending my feet around to examine them, she also said, “You have REALLY flexible feet!” Which, IDK, I sort of assume that’s from dancing in my callow youth, but whatever the reason, apparently it’s genuinely pretty unusual.

And it reminded me that my PT has commented any number of times on the fact that regardless of what other issues I’m having, I have “great feet!” I guess people’s feet aren’t bendy? Or they get tense? IDK, who knew? But she’s always like “ok let’s look at your feet…oh, ok, moving on.” So I guess I’ve learned something about my anatomy compared to most peoples’. :)

I also took a REALLY LONG DAY to go see said PT, who lives on the other side of the country, but I love her very much and she really gives me a good workover, so for a birthday present to myself I, uh, got up at 4:30am, rode a train for 9 hours, spent 90 minutes getting worked over, and got home in the middle of the night.

On one hand, you’d think I have TERRIBLE ideas about what to do as a birthday treat for myself, but on the other, my GOD it was worth it. It was so worth it that despite 9 hours on trains I still actually felt great when I got home.

Despite having not seen her in almost a year, I was apparently in pretty good nick. Certainly the bits I was most anticipating being extremely terrible were not all that bad, which I attribute to the exceptionally pathetic attempts at stretching I’ve been indulging in the past couple of months. I mean, at least I’ve done something, apparently.

I do need to find a yoga class, though, because one of the problems with being responsible for my own stretching is I get bored really fast, so I don’t do as much as I should. Although in my defense, I signed up for a local yoga studio’s newsletter MONTHS ago in hopes of being told when the next classes start, but apparently they don’t use it. I’ve just found their stupid facebook page, though, so I’ll follow that and try to get in on the next round.

So anyway, for the moment, not feeling entirely terrible about myself, which is kinda nice. :)

[runawayfuture]

all the dancers want my feet

[wonderlustlucas]

jack pot ; part 1 - hwang hyunjin

⇢ prompt You know it’s bad when you’re high as a kite and he’s still on your mind. ⇢ pairing hwang hyunjin x female reader, seo changbin x female reader for like 2 minutes ⇢ word count 7.5k ⇢ genre fluff, angst (not heavy, just in a slow burn kind of way), slight smut ⇢ warnings drug use!!! & lots of it (marijuana), grinding, implied smut ⇢ summary College is a matter of working hard and playing hard. It’s an opportunity to start fresh, to grow as an individual and to blossom with those you befriend. People come and people go, leaving their mark on your life and showing you all the parts of becoming an adult. Some, however, do more than leave their mark. Some take just as much as they give. Things become complicated once they take the entirety of your love because you outright offered it to them.—college!au ; stoner!au ; friends to lovers!au ⇢ a/n yo!!! disclaimer: this initially was going to just be a long one shot but i decided to split it up into 3 parts, so just to let u all know part 1 & 2 does not have a ton of hyunjin interaction, they’re more character/plot building. part 3 is when things will get spicy ♥︎ i hope u enjoy! if u rb make sure to let me know what u thought in the tags mwah also i finally switched from ___ to yn are u guys proud of me :)

prelude.

Sometimes you really, truly, honestly think you could go right ahead and kill Han Jisung.

You say it all the time. Sometimes it’s a simple, “I will literally kill you,” or when you are feeling extra spicy, “Sleep with one eye open tonight.” He, of course, laughs it off like you aren’t vibrating with the urge to kick his kneecaps in. You seriously have lost count of all the times he has brought you to the brink of insanity.

And honestly, you have watched enough murder documentaries on Netflix that you probably could do it, but, you know, spending the rest of your life in prison does not sound that appealing. Plus, there’s the ever-troubling detail that Han Jisung is the closest thing you have to a best friend. So, it sort of goes against your basic human morals to backstab—literally—the most important human in your life.

But he really makes you crazy. Why you agreed to share an apartment with him in the first place is a mystery, but the fact that you leased it again for junior year is what really makes you lose sleep at night. Because, while he may be your best friend, Jisung is the epitome of a little shit. If such a compound word was in the dictionary, it simply would say ‘Han Jisung.’ Somehow, though, it makes you love him even more. Maybe it’s true that ‘opposites attract,’ or, perhaps, maybe it’s because no matter how much embarrassment and general self-loathing he may have caused you in the past, it has benefitted you in the end.

For example, his constant teasing about your lack of friends eventually led to you befriending a group of girls you always admired from afar. His snarky comments concerning your nonexistent social life finally got to you and now you can proudly wear the title of one of the best beer pong players in your class. His presence in general has taught you to stand up for yourself and what you believe in, whether it’s against him, your parents, a toxic friend, hell, even a professor. Proving people wrong, especially Jisung, is your favorite pastime.

Sometimes, though, it’s not that easy.

There’s one area in your life where you have accepted defeat. One area in your life where Jisung has his most fun. One area, or, perhaps one person, where you simply cannot step beyond your comfort zone.

Hwang Hyunjin is your Achilles tendon and Jisung is the arrow. There are times, along with all the times you’ve considered strangling Jisung in his sleep, where you have sat and actually prayed to the gods to send someone else. Someone not nearly as perfect as Hyunjin and someone not nearly as unattainable. Alas, these prayers, hook-ups, Tinder dates, anything to get him off your mind has proved futile; because here you are three years later, stuck with this stupid, absolutely infuriating crush on the only boy who has ever owned your heart because you outright gave it to him.

one.

You are beginning to think the two bubbly junior girls who led the campus tour you attended last year lied about the dining hall.

Correction: they one hundred percent lied.

Because even though the newly renovated food court looks nice—unscratched linoleum floors, shiny marble countertops and all sorts of seating to choose from—there must be something fishy going on with the cooks. Literally. Just last week, an upperclassman had a breakdown when she forked into her tuna (why anyone would want college seafood is another story) to find a worm right there in the middle of it. You have found little shards of glass in the yogurt and bugs even at You-Cook, but that’s all a part of the college experience, right?

“Are you sure there’s no spiders or anything? Did you check?” Beside you, Maddie watches with furrowed brows as you spoon a hefty serving of scrambled eggs onto your plate. Chuckling, you move down to grab a few sausages and a chocolate chip muffin before they are gone for the rest of the day; Lord knows, you are only a month in and carbohydrates have quickly become your emotional support, just like everyone else. “Yes, I checked,” you assure her, hiding a laugh with your hand as she leans over to further scrutinize the eggs, “I didn’t see any arachnids.”

“Good,” she hums, satisfied with your answer, “can you grab a banana muffin for me? They’re usually at the bottom.”

Nodding, you turn back to the blessed muffin basket, pushing away blueberry, corn, double chocolate, all because Maddie has to be different and go for the macadamia nut banana.

“Are those the dinosaur socks they were selling on move-in day?” In front of you, someone asks, and your first instinct is to look down at your feet just to confirm. 8:30 calculus simply turns your brain to mush and remembering how you dressed for the day is near impossible. “Yes!” Laughing, you lift your leg to get a closer look at the cute green t-rexes on skates. “I was sold once I heard they were a dollar.”

Tearing your gaze away from said socks, you look up and suddenly feel as if you have bumped into an angel. Maybe there were spiders in the eggs, deadly poisonous spiders that crawled up the spoon while you weren’t paying attention and bit your hand and now you are dead and this is the angel leading you to the heavens. That, or this simply is the most beautiful human you have ever seen up close and your brain does not know how to process it. Well, maybe that’s a little extreme, but you definitely have never been so starstruck in your life.

The boy in front of you says something but you don’t hear it, senses and thoughts momentarily Off™ as you gawk at him. Aside from the deep undereye bags you all have claimed the past few weeks, this stranger is as close to perfect as you can get. Sure, Seungmin and his roommates are pretty cute—but what the fuck?

Something tells you that you have been silently staring at him, wide-eyed and mouth hanging open for far too long when his brows raise in a mix of confusion and expectation. Shit. What did he say? Synapses suddenly shooting like fireworks in your brain, you desperately try to remember his reply but instead, all you had focused on was the plumpness of his lips as he spoke and not the words themselves.

Clearing your throat, you blink once, twice, hoping you were hallucinating the whole time and the boy in front of you is not Hercules incarnate.

Lucky for you or him, you can’t tell, but he is still as attractive as he was two seconds ago. “Sorry, what?” You blurt, loud, too loud, flinching at the sound of your own voice. Instead of recognizing that you are totally off your rocker, he smiles, a soft, toothy smile that has your muscles turning to goo.

“I said I bought them, too,” cutest-boy-in-the-universe repeats, looking down and you follow his gaze, “my roommates were making fun of me, so I’m glad I finally found someone who bought them.” Alas, as he tugs at the fabric of his jeans to slightly lift the cuff you see that he, too, wears the same socks. You think you’re in love.

“Well, your roommates clearly have no taste,” you deadpan, shakily meeting his eyes once he looks back up. He laughs softly, eyes scrunching at the action and you positively swoon until silence settles over you and he takes the opportunity to regard you, gaze sweeping down your frame and up again. You hold your breath because, 1) holy shit, you would get on your knees for him right now and 2) you suddenly wish you were wearing more than the ‘just-woke-up-to-get-pegged-by-calc’ fit.

“I’m Hyunjin,” he finally says and you release all the air trapped in your lungs. “YN,” you return, grasping his outreached hand and thanking the heavens it is as sweaty as yours. “Well, it was nice to meet you, YN,” Hyunjin proceeds, releasing your hand and offering a gentle smile.

“You too, Mr. Sock Man,” you grin, rocking on your heels and realizing with a pang of disappointment that your breakfast has probably gone cold. Well, that’s okay, because right now you are totally content standing here in the middle of the dining hall, silently staring at this Hyunjin with a stupid smile plastered on your face. And the best part? He apparently is just fine doing that, too.

“YN!” Somewhere behind you, Maddie calls your name and it thrusts you head-first back into reality. “Did you find a banana muffin? I can’t find— oh. Who’s this?” Appearing beside you, visibly shocked having found you in a staring contest with a very tall, very cute boy. “Oh, uh,” you huff out a laugh, scrambling to get yourself together, “Hyunjin, this is Maddie, my roommate. Maddie, this is Hyunjin. We have the same socks.”

Brows shooting up at the puzzling introduction, Maddie bites back a laugh and looks back and forth between you and Hyunjin. “Well, you don’t hear that every day,” smiling to hide her confusion, she offers him a small wave with her hand full of muffin packs, “nice to meet you.”

Hyunjin smiles in return, gaze quickly returning to you. “I’ll be off, then. Gotta get the waffles while they’re still warm. I’ll see you around.”

And before you know it, he’s off toward the other end of the breakfast counter.

“Um, what the fuck?” Maddie whispers excitedly as you make your way toward your usual table, elbow repeatedly jabbing into your side. “I have no idea what just happened. I think I’m dreaming,” you sigh blissfully, relieved to find that Jisung and Seungmin were able to claim your favorite booth. “No, definitely not dreaming. He’s totally into you. You have to hang out.”

“What?” You sputter, nearly tripping over your own two feet. Then, lowering your voice as you near the two boys, “I – no, he isn’t. How can you tell? That was like, the cutest guy I’ve ever talked to, and you think he’s into me?”

“Who’s the cutest guy ever?” Jisung pipes up, eyes lighting up and you curse him and his fucking bat hearing.

“No one,” you grumble, smiling softly at Seungmin when he gets up so you don’t have to sit on the end, leaving Maddie to sit next to the other one. “Is it me?” Jisung grins with a flutter of his eyelashes. He’s convinced the only reason you dislike him is because you’ve actually fallen in love with him, but that’s far from the truth. You don’t even dislike him—he’s just one of the first guys you’ve met who meets your sarcasm with as much ferocity, and that is a hard pill to swallow.

“In your dreams, Han,” you sneer, gracing him with a dramatic eye roll before tearing open the bag of your muffin. Comfortable conversation quickly falls into place as you eat, complaints about your classes, Seungmin trying to convince you to join them at the first party they will be attending while Jisung mocks you for wanting to stay home, Maddie asking where Felix is and Seungmin explaining that he got so high last night he ended up staying up past four playing Overwatch and is currently sleeping past all his classes.

Then, in the midst of guzzling your apple juice, Jisung leans out of his seat to call down the aisle. “Hwang! Come pull a chair over!”

Curiosity peaked, you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand and crane your neck to see over Seungmin’s fat head for who this ‘Hwang’ could be until, like the universe is really trying to kill you, the Hyunjin you met not even ten minutes ago has reached your table. “Hey,” he grins brightly, dabbing up the two boys before he glances to you, mouth promptly falling open. Certain you mirror the same expression, you struggle to find your words as Jisung and Seungmin look between you in shared confusion. “First we share socks, now it’s these dumpheads?”

Ignoring the way they scowl, Hyunjin giggles shamelessly and grabs a chair from an adjacent table to sit at the head of your booth. “It would seem that way.”

“Woah, woah, woah. Slow down. You guys know each other?” Jisung scoffs in disbelief, pointedly looking at you as if you’ve gone and disproved everything he pegged of you. “We just met,” Hyunjin replies with a shy smile, sparing you a quick glance before cutting into his waffle. Jisung looks to you and you offer an affirmative nod.

“And how are you guys friends?” Maddie asks, sensing your panic. “He’s Changbin and Minho’s roommate,” Seungmin answers.

You choke on a mouthful of juice.

“Christ, you good?” Seungmin snickers, offering a few slaps to your back. With a muffled yes, you look to Hyunjin with pleading eyes. “Please don’t tell them I said they have no taste.”

He laughs, arching a brow at you. “No way. They’ll get a kick out of that.”

“Oh, Christ,” faking a cry, you bury your face into your palms, “so much for making friends.”

“It’s okay, YN,” Jisung soothes with faux sympathy, “no one wants to be your friend anyway.”

Scoffing, the table quickly falls silent when you look up with rage in your eyes. “I bet when someone asks your parents about you, they change the subject,” you spit, shooting daggers at him before stabbing your fork into an innocent chunk of egg. To your utmost surprise but total delight, the other three burst into a fit of laughter, leaving you smirking smugly and Jisung sulking.

“Anyway,” Maddie promptly changes the subject back to her chemistry professor who has started every class playing Britney Spears. Tucked away in your corner finishing the last of your sausage and stifling the urge to get up for more, it isn’t until Hyunjin begins to speak do you realize that you have been quietly watching him the entire time. You would blame the soft morning sunshine shining through the windows and illuminating the right side of his face for making him look so ethereal, but you know that isn’t the case; from short, messy black hair, silver hoop earrings, thick, defined brows, the soft curves of his nose and the pouty fullness of his lips, you are totally, completely mesmerized.

And then, the sole of a sneaker is slammed right into your shin. “OW!” You yelp, loud, and for a moment you forget the pain in favor of the embarrassment that comes with the number of heads that turn to look at you. “Sorry. Bit my tongue,” you lie, earning an unconvinced look from Maddie. “Go on,” you nod toward Hyunjin to continue whatever he was saying before directing a furious glare to Jisung, who fails to hide his triumphant smirk as he enthusiastically types on his phone.

Just as you have bent down to rub at your throbbing leg, your phone vibrates twice against the table.

han jisung [now] stop staring, ur lucky hwang is as dense as a rock or he would have left a long time ago bc of you

han jisung [now] so THAT’S the ‘cutest guy ever’ huh? so ur straight after all

Squeezing your hands into fists, you prepare to fire back a reply that will have him crying. But he has different plans.

“Oh, Hyunjin, did YN tell you she’s a dancer, too?” He exaggerates your previous mention of dancing and has the audacity to wink at you. Thanks, Mr. Match Maker.

“Really?” Hyunjin gasps excitedly, eyes lighting up and totally missing the flabbergasted what? that sputters from your lips.

“I – well, no,” you hiss, scowling at Jisung, “I used to do ballet when I was younger but that’s it. Why, though? Do you dance?”

“He’s here on a scholarship,” Seungmin explains, “and minors in creative writing.”

“Oh,” you squeak, glancing to Hyunjin who is all but smiling like a cherub, completely oblivious, “that’s amazing. You must have a crazy schedule.” Chewing the last of his waffle, he hums in agreement. “Yeah, it gets really stressful at times. But it’s worth it,” Hyunjin chuckles. Then fucking winks.

Unable to hold his gaze, you whip your head back around in a panic and reach for the mere sip left of your juice. “Speaking of crazy schedules,” he hums, slapping both Jisung and Seungmin on the shoulders, “I must head out. This was fun. I may start crashing the party more now.” Rising from his seat, Hyunjin swings his bag over a shoulder and grins brightly. Realizing it would be rude to not say goodbye, you force yourself to look back to him and offer a feeble wave.

“And YN, don’t bite your tongue when you eat, yeah?”

You’re going to pass out.

two.

Felix likes to think of you as his corrupted child when it comes to smoking weed.

A few weeks before you would all be returning home for winter break, he came knocking on your door with a proposition. “No one wants to smoke with me. Do you want to?”

This, for sure, was not what you were expecting on a cold Tuesday night in December. Despite the general curiosity and always wanting to ‘try it’ simply to feel like a teenager breaking the rules, you told him you never smoked before. “I know,” he said with a smile, “that’s why I’m asking.”

So, you agreed. Reaching for your hand, Felix snuck you out the window and led you halfway across campus to the junior parking lot, giving you ample opportunities to back out when he felt how badly you were shaking. “Whose car is this?” You laughed in disbelief when he unlocked a beaten-up Nissan near the outskirts of the lot.

“Kim Woojin. The junior?” He replied once you settled in the passenger seat next to him. “Oh.” You blinked, confused. “He lets you smoke in his car?”

“He gets me weed, too,” Felix giggled, reaching into the pockets of his sweatshirt and coming out with two tightly wrapped blunts, each about two inches long, “I’ll turn the heat on a little so we don’t freeze but we have to keep the windows open. I’m not going to have you hotbox for your first time.” You had no idea what that meant, but you agreed nonetheless.

With a brief lesson on what to do that truly made no sense until you tried it for yourself, Felix lit the blunt, took a few small hits to get it started, and then passed it to you. Holding it gingerly between your thumb and index finger, you brought the unlit end to your lips and sucked as he instructed ‘like a straw,’ breathing it into your lungs and ignoring the faint taste of smoke. Unsure of when to stop, it wasn’t until your throat felt as if it was on fire did you realize just how much you had inhaled.

“Shit,” you wheezed, coughing and choking and watching with wide eyes at the amount of cloudy white smoke that left your mouth and nostrils. Passing it back to Felix, you scrambled for the cold water bottle he brought along, downing half of it in one go to soothe the burn. “Good?” He asked, blowing out the window and turning back to you with eyes full of concern.

“Yeah,” you huffed, “give me a few, though.”

Humming in agreement, Felix connected his phone to the car’s Bluetooth and began playing what he calls his ‘getting high playlist,’ and before long, you fell in love with the feeling.

When break was over, you were dying to try it again. Felix was more than happy to be of service.

For all of March, it turned into a daily thing.

Now, you try to smoke only once a week for the sake of not dying, or something.

australian felix kjellberg❤️ [now] come hang at 201?

When the text notification pops up in the corner of your laptop screen amid your YouTube binge, your bones jitter with a mix of dread and excitement.

Dread, because that’s Hyunjin’s room. Excitement, because that’s Hyunjin’s room.

Maddie must hear your sigh. “What’s wrong?” She asks from her cozied position in bed, hand deep in a bag of popcorn.

“It’s Felix,” you start, “but he said to go to Hyunjin’s room.”

She blinks, unfazed. “And? I don’t see the problem here.”

“Well, I don’t know,” you count on your fingers, “first, I don’t know how to act around Hyunjin sober. Second, I don’t know how to act around Hyunjin high. Third, I am very touchy when high. Fourth, Hyunjin is always touchy.”

Maddie scoffs. “That’s a pretty lame argument, YN,” she laughs, “isn’t that what you want to happen?”

“Well,” she’s got a point, “yes, but it still makes me nervous. He makes me nervous.” Closing your laptop, you shimmy out of bed and debate changing out of your cotton shorts and tee shirt. Nah. You’ll probably end up going back to Felix’s and sleeping there. You put a sports bra and deodorant on and call it a day.

Maddie finds this hilarious. “You know what should make you nervous? The fact that you’re usually the only girl getting high with, what? Six guys? You know they all want to fuck you.”

“I try not to think about that, actually,” cringing, you try to erase Felix’s voice when he’s high as a kite or Changbin’s arms from your mind, “and you don’t know that. Sometimes Ryujin and Lia are there. Or, you know, you could always come. You don’t have to smoke, just come hang out. I know you want to give Minho a fat smooch.”

Her nose wrinkles in disgust. “I love you, and I appreciate the invite, but I don’t feel like babysitting a bunch of stoners, even if Minho is there.”

Laughing, all you can offer her is a shrug. “I don’t blame you,” grabbing your phone, wallet, and charger, you make your way over to her and bend over to press a goodnight kiss to her forehead, “if you need me, don’t. I’ll probably be dead.”

“Oh Lord,” Maddie cackles, watching you struggle to open the window, “don’t die. I don’t know what I’ll do.”

“I’ll try,” you grin, military saluting once you’ve managed to flop over the ledge. With one last wave, you close the window behind you and thank admissions for giving you a room on the first floor.

[9:34 PM] YN: omw now, gather your forces to help me in :)

Nights in 201 are always interesting. First, their room is on the second floor, so climbing through the window is an experience. Things would be a hell of a lot easier if you could just walk in and out of residence halls as you please, but with the officer at the front desk documenting who comes in and who goes out, there would be a knock at the door at midnight asking you to leave. Second: as Maddie said, 201 means the whole squad is showing up. And when the whole squad shows up, you’re bound to feel a mix of anxiety and desire deep within your bones no matter how hard set you are on Mr. Hwang. And third: you know you’re in for one fucked up night.

[9:42 PM] YN: hereee

Standing awkwardly behind their building, you try and calm the nerves that always come when you know you will be with Hyunjin. Considering how close the two of you have become over the past few months, one would think you would have gotten a grip on those pesky feelings.

Yet again, it’s kind of hard to do that when he looks and acts like that all the time.

When the window slides open, you are expecting Changbin to hang halfway out for you to grab on to with the rest of them holding onto his legs. Instead, a tall, metal ladder of sorts is pushed out until it lands with a thud! at your feet, granting you a perfect staircase into the room.

Well, you certainly don’t see that every day.

Blinking in confusion, you do not know whether to focus on the crowd of boys waving at you from above or this abomination of a stepstool that was practically thrown out a window for you. Accepting the chain of events as just another fever dream of an experience in 201, you shake your head and begin to ascend on shaky legs, graciously taking Jisung’s hand and clinging to both him and Seungmin as they help you into the room. “Thanks,” you huff, giving them both a hug in return to their chivalry. And they dare say it’s dead!

Behind you, Changbin and Hyunjin lift the ladder-stepstool mutation back into the room and it isn’t until they have folded it into a more compact piece and set it against the wall do you speak up.

“Did you… buy a ladder?”

“Yes!” Minho bellows, thrilled by your successful entrance. “Isn’t it great?” After pulling back from a hug, he keeps his hands on your shoulders just to shake you like a bobble-head.

“Yes,” you grunt once he’s released you, head swimming, “a lot easier than hauling both me and Changbin through the window, right?” Looking to said boy, you can’t help but melt into his side when he pulls you close. “No worries,” Changbin beams, rubbing your arm, “at least we have some funny memories now.” When he moves to flop onto his bed, you realize with a shudder that you are alone with Hyunjin.

Well, technically not alone since they are all right there, but alone in the sense that they are not paying attention to you nor him.

“Hey, YN. I missed you,” he singsongs, engulfing you in one of his monster bear hugs. Disregarding the heart palpitations they may cause, Hyunjin’s hugs are truly the best and you wish you would initiate them more if it didn’t seem like such a big deal in that smooth brain of yours. “I missed you, too,” you mutter into his chest, squeezing your arms around him as if to engrave this feeling into your mind forever. “We saw each other, like, five hours ago,” he reminds you, finally pulling back and taking your will to live with him. God, he has no idea.

“And? You’re the only one here who doesn’t make me suicidal,” you lie because, in reality, he actually does. Just in a different way. “Aw,” he coos, large hand squeezing your side and you think you could orgasm on command, “good thing we have tonight, then, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you squeak, finally remembering to breathe when he steps away to sit beside Seungmin on his bed. Suddenly, you are feeling incredibly grateful no one is next to Changbin because, well, 1) he is closer to Felix and 2), you need a distraction.

“Hello, Felix,” you greet the boy sunk deep in a bean bag chair, busy grinding leaves and packing them into the bowl of a bong. “How are you this fine evening, YN?” He asks once you have settled beside Changbin, brows knitting together when the older boy drapes his arm around your waist.

“Good. Tired, though. How ‘bout you?”

“You didn’t have to come if you’re tired! We all know you work your ass off, no one’s gonna judge if you chose to stay home and sleep,” Felix expresses, giving you a look that screams ‘mom.’

“No! I’m not that tired,” you assure him, reaching for his hand and squeezing for extra effect, “you know I wouldn’t miss this. You’ve made me a pothead.”

With a proud smile, he returns to his designated job and begins working on the second, smaller bong. “So,” stretching to set your things on the desk beside Changbin’s bed, you turn to him with a knowing smile, “how’s the album coming?”

“Great!” He beams, eyes lighting up at the topic. “Jisung is a great addition. Did I tell you we started meeting with someone else, too?”

“No, who?”

“He’s a sophomore, Bang Chan?” Somewhere behind you, Felix passes a bong to Jisung for the first hit. “Bang Chan? Holy shit, Binnie,” repeatedly punching his arm to express your excitement, “that’s amazing! I didn’t know he was into music production. Not that I’ve ever talked to him, but.”

“No, I get you,” he hums, giving your side a firm squeeze, “he’s really awesome making beats. I hope we’re successful.” Then, reaching past you, he takes the second bong and a lighter from Felix. When he resituates himself, he’s considerably closer than before. You don’t mind.

“Ladies first?” Changbin offers with a crooked grin, handing them to you. Then, on second thought, he holds onto the lighter to do the honors. “Sure. Thanks,” you laugh, glancing across the room to find everyone arguing over which color to set the lights to as they wait for their high. Bringing the tube to your lips, you offer a miniscule nod to him and then he is setting flame to the bowl. Sucking strong enough to generate bubbles, you unplug the bowl once he stops and breathe in as much as your lungs can handle in one go. Then, once you have exhaled, you quickly finish what’s left in the tube before passing it to Changbin with a pleased smile.

“That was a lot,” he points out once you have handed the bong back to him. “Hey, you’re the one who kept lighting it for thirty seconds. Mother would be proud,” you joke, reciprocating the same service and lighting the bowl until he glares at you beneath his bangs.

The best part about being high is the fact that you are constantly laughing. Things won’t even be that funny, but once someone starts laughing—you’re done for. You laugh so hard it hurts, and then once it’s all over, you realize it wasn’t funny at all. “Has anyone ever told you that you look like a squirrel?” Minho asks Jisung at some point. You absolutely loose it. It quite possibly is the funniest thing you have ever heard.

Pouting, Squirrel Boy leaves Minho alone on his bed to come crash beside you. “How are you, my tender oozing blossom?”

Squinting at him past the way your eyes burn, you make grabby hands and pull him close to wrap your arms around his teeny waist. Changbin grumbles in protest, but he’s too transfixed on the light’s soft in and out fade of different colors to say anything else. “Please, don’t ever call me that again,” you mumble into Jisung’s mop of brown hair.

“What?” He gasps, tilting to look up at you with puppy eyes. “You didn’t like it?”

“Nope,” smiling lazily, you rest your head atop his, “I love you, but I’m not ready for pet names yet.” His face morphs from a frown to one lit with excitement. “Holy shit, did you just say you love me? Do my eyes deceive me?”

“That would be your ‘ears,’ but yes,” you hum, brain simply not capable of denying it the way your sober self would. “More than Changbin?” Jisung whispers.

“Yes, but don’t tell him,” you return quietly, biting back a laugh.

“More than Hyunjin?” He counters. At this, you look up to find said boy sat with his legs to his chest across the room. Next to Seungmin, he looks like a giant; but a happy, pouty giant that keeps talking about how much he could go for a winter melon tea right now.

“Never.”

One and a half (half because it was just the rest of Minho’s terribly big hit that left tears streaming down his cheeks) and an unfinished game of Cards Against Humanity later, you find yourself in a blissful headspace. The song playing quietly through Felix’s speaker makes it feel like you are bouncing down stairs and then going up again, and the lights are oh so pretty, pink fading to red, yellow to green, blue to purple and so on. Things are fuzzy but crystal clear at the same time, the popcorn you’ve been shoveling into your mouth tastes heavenly, and your body feels like it is engulfed in a warm, comforting hug.

Or, that could just be Changbin.

Somewhere in between trying to get more comfortable and him yanking you to stay next to him when you attempted to get up and hug Seungmin for something sweet he said, you now find yourself on your back with a clinging Changbin on your side. You are so comfortable, but also insanely hot, and as you begin to slowly come down from your high as the hours tick by, you begin to realize it’s for another reason.

What started as an innocent hand on your side turned into his thumb rubbing meaningless patterns against your shirt, which then turned into his hand slipping beneath to splay against the warmth of your skin. Growing increasingly needy as the minutes go by, you turn to look at everyone around you. Jisung, who found himself returning to Minho, appears to be passed out with him on the far end of the room. Seungmin, curled up on the floor with a pillow and a heap of blankets. Felix, who finished off the rest of his weed, scrolls aimlessly on his phone still at the peak of his high.

And Hyunjin, who you assume has been fast asleep on his bed for a while now if the arm flung over his face tells you anything. For a moment, you feel sick with sadness. So close, but so far he lies, always a step out of reach. But you can’t deny how Changbin makes you feel—for right now, at least. And it would be a shame to miss out on an opportunity with someone else because the one you want is unattainable.

Right?

Changbin must sense the way your breathing increases, must feel the way your body reacts to the slightest of touches, yet he takes his time. He is soft in the way his hand travels up your arm, rough fingertips grazing over your collarbones before smoothing down over your chest and abdomen. It isn’t until you are about to burst at the seams does he give your ass a strong squeeze and urge your leg over his hips.

“Changbin,” you sigh, biting your lip to keep from whimpering when he begins pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses down the length of your throat. “Please touch me.”

He only makes a sound of agreement, savoring the way you squirm and grip onto his arm for dear life. When he offers an experimental roll of his hips to grind against you, you practically go feral. The last time you were touched in such a way was at a party in the beginning of the semester Jisung and co. physically forced you to go to, and Changbin has barely even touched you and it’s already better than the rushed sex you had that night.

“Wait,” he huffs, pausing his ministrations no matter how difficult it is to do so, “we can’t.”

“What?” You hiss, trying to keep your voice quiet, “why?”

“Because you’re high, and I’m high, and I’m not going to do anything unless you really want me to,” Changbin explains, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips when you frown in response. “But I do want you to,” you huff, chasing his mouth for another, “I trust you one hundred percent.”

“Are you sure, YN?” What about Hyunjin? is what he really means and you know he’s right. You should have never told Felix.

Trying to ignore the wetness of your underwear, you turn to lie on your back. “Whatever. Never mind,” you mumble, and when you glance back to him, you can’t help the way your heart soars with him still pressed closely to your side, blinking tiredly at you. But like he said, it’s not Hyunjin. “Just get some sleep, Binnie. Forget it happened,” smiling past the tears that threaten to spill, you ruffle his hair and press a softer kiss to his forehead.

“I’m sorry,” Changbin whispers, returning the affection with a kiss to your shoulder. In minutes, he is snoring softly beside you.

You can’t fall asleep to save your life.

Reaching for your phone to check the time, you grit your teeth once you realize it’s almost four and you definitely have been staring at the ceiling for more than an hour. For starters, you are freezing now; unlike these passed out hooligans, you are showing a lot more skin and not being under the blankets is not doing you well. And secondly, it’s hard to fall asleep when your thoughts are flying miles a minute.

Is this how it’s going to be, then? Whenever you see someone, will the little guy on your shoulder whisper in your ear that it’s not Hyunjin? Or will people deem you off limits because they know of your infatuation? People who know, at least—Changbin is the first, apparently.

Just need to get comfy, you decide, trying to ignore such thoughts and turning to lie on your stomach. Bless Felix for leaving the lights on, too—you may be coming down from your high, but the vibe is simply immaculate. Tucking a hand under your cheek and following the ropes of light on the ceiling and up the walls, you find this to be enough to calm your nerves. Enough to make your eyelids heavy. Finally.

Someone lets out a monster train snore. Seungmin, you think, biting your lip to keep from laughing. Or, it could be Hyunjin. The thought is so amusing you can’t help but squint at the boy across from you to better see his outline, hoping he will do it again just to confirm.

No, not Hyunjin.

Because he’s facing you, eyes open, a soft smile plastered on his face. Well, fuck.

No reason to panic, you console yourself, returning a gentle smile in the assumption he can even see you. And you stay like that for a while, simply watching one another for an infinite amount of time. It’s not much, but it means something, you think, lost in the way the contours and highlights of his face change with each color the lights fade to. Just as you remember the whole point of getting on your stomach was to fall asleep, Hyunjin moves. Reaching for his phone, you watch in confusion as he brings it close to his face and starts typing.

hwang hyunjin👁👄👁 [now] Come sleep w me?

You almost throw up in your mouth. You must be dreaming. Surely.

Blinking against the harsh light of your phone, you cannot help your smile as you reread the text.

[4:02 am] YN: wont that b a little sus for bin

[4:02 am] hwang hyunjin👁👄👁: If anyone asks just say he kept kicking u or something

You don’t need to be told twice. Now that he has turned onto his side facing the other direction, Changbin does not stir once you slowly move to sit up and stand, nor when you reach for the quilt crumbled at the foot of the bed to pull over him. It’s not much, but hopefully it will keep him from waking in a few hours freezing to death. Then, as you tiptoe your way over to Hyunjin’s bed, avoiding Felix now that he’s sprawled half way off the bean bag, you cannot tell if you are still shivering from the cold or if the fact you are going to be sleepingwith Hyunjin in one, tiny single bed is finally clicking in your brain. Like Maddie said, this is something you want, right?

As you draw closer, Hyunjin shifts to make room and lifts the covers for you to quietly slip beneath. “Thank you,” you whisper, pulling the blanket up to your chin and trying to ignore the feeling of being so close to him. “Of course. You looked real cold over there,” he smiles tiredly. Then, his arm cautiously curls around you to rest by your head, fingers swiping stray hairs away from your face.

“I was,” you admit. Eyes level to his lips, you strain to look him in the eyes to resist the temptation now that he’s pulled you so close. “Changbin fell asleep and I felt bad waking him.”

Hyunjin doesn’t reply. He seems momentarily lost in thought, brows slightly furrowed as he chews on the inside of his lip.

“Do you like him?” He finally asks, voice shaky with hesitation.

“What?” You sputter, shocked at such a presumption. Yet again…

“No, no I don’t. I mean—as a friend, yes, but, you know,” you trail off, squeezing your eyes shut. You desperately wish you were not having this conversation right now. “He was touching you, though. And it looked like you liked it,” Hyunjin whispers, thumb swiping against your cheekbone.

“I mean, well yeah, I did. But I’m not close enough to like him like that. It’s just a physical attraction,” realizing you are discussing what went down with Changbin to Hyunjin, you suddenly pull back and lean up on an elbow to get a better look at him, heat now spreading up your limbs like fire. “Were you watching us, Hwang?”

“Yes,” he admits, “it’s kind of hard not to.” Your heart stops beating.

“I – what?” You manage once you have remembered how to breathe. “I didn’t know you were awake, we wouldn’t have… what do you mean, ‘it’s kind of hard not to?’”

“You know what I mean, YN,” Hyunjin mutters, arm slipping around your waist and pulling you to lie down with him again, this time, your chest pressed to his. “I like looking at you. You’re very pretty.”

You definitely must still be high, because you are seriously having a hard time wrapping your mind around Hyunjin calling you pretty, as well as being so close, and somewhere deep in your mind wonders if he knows. If he knows how your heart is on the line here. Knows that with him moving closer, you are taking a huge risk.

When Hyunjin kisses you, you forget that this could be the worst mistake you’ve made in a long time. Wrapped around his fingers, you pray this is his way of saying he feels the same.

“YN!” You wake to Seungmin gently shaking your shoulder. “YN, wake up. Your phone has been vibrating for twenty minutes now. It’s Maddie.”

The wave of panic washing over you dispels the grogginess you feel from suddenly being yanked from sleep, as well as the recognition of where you are and who you’re with. Frantic, you sit up and nod in thanks to him before taking the call. “Hello?”

“Oh, thank God you answered,” Maddie cries, voice choked, “I’m sorry, I know you’re still out, but I just threw up and I feel so terrible and when I get up I feel so nauseous. Can you come home?”

“Shit, Maddie, don’t apologize,” you whisper, rushing to grab your things as Seungmin unfolds The Ladder as quietly as possible, “I’m leaving now. Don’t move, you don’t want it to get worse. I’ll be there as fast as I can, okay?”

“Okay,” she whimpers before hanging up.

“Thank you, Minnie,” pressing a kiss to his cheek, you begin to climb down. “Is everything okay?” He asks, watching as you go with a worried frown. “Yes, it’s fine. Just a little emergency, don’t worry,” praying no one is out and about watching as you climb from the back of their building, you rush back to help Maddie as fast as you can.

You stay back in your dorm with Maddie for the rest of the weekend, fetching her water and ginger ale and food she can handle, helping her to the restroom, and binging all sorts of shows and movies with her. Seungmin, Jisung, and Minho visit Sunday evening, joining you for a few hours to watch Pokémon. You think it’s just because Minho knew it would be a good opportunity to snuggle with Maddie.

You can’t help but feel disappointed when Hyunjin isn’t with them. You refrained from telling Maddie what happened in 201, too caught up wanting to make sure she was alright, and by now you are starting to feel as if it wasn’t even real. Maybe you made the whole night up in your marijuana-infused brain. And snuggled up with Jisung, you can’t help but wish it was this annoying shit you were falling in love with.

On Monday morning, Hyunjin doesn’t show up for breakfast. On Tuesday, you find out he has been hanging out with a girl he met at his favorite boba joint and apparently won’t shut up about. First, you run back to your dorm to cry to Maddie, having to explain all of Friday night to her. When she leaves for her lab, you call Felix for an emergency smoke session. When Maddie texts that she is going to be out late working on a project, you call Changbin to tell him that you really do want him to.

Like you said, it’s just a physical attraction, right?

⇢ part 2

[likesplatterpaint]

Y’all.

I had a really good medical experience today.

I have put off going to the chiro despite mike begging for six years. His family swears by it.

I’ve had chronic back pain since I was 13. Mom blamed my large chest and the weight I was putting on (I was 120lbs and fine. I am much more now, but get fucked mom.)

But between my foot dr. And this guy, I finally understand SO much.

Dr. Joe is the father of two former students and apparent spine magician in our region. After lower back pain so severe it woke me at 3 am last night, I finally just bit the bullet and called. Did NOT expect to get in today but yoooo I did.

Some things:

- foot doctor discovered I have extremely tight Achilles’ tendons, which is why I swing my right foot out and put the weight on the outside of my foot instead of the ball

-this unusual gait I’ve had my whole life may play a role in my back pain she said, back in March, giving me PT orders I never followed up on because PANDEMIC

-I wear orthotics, which helped the foot pain but not the back

SO back to dr Joe

Two reasons I have avoided chiro

-cost

-fear of fat shaming

He did not bring up my weight ONCE. He took one look at me and said

“Huh. Your right leg is shorter than the left.”

YOU MEAN THE LEG IVE BEEN WALKING ON FUNNY FOR THIRTY YEARS?!? Is TOO SHORT? THAYS WHY?!

Continual feelings of muscles “hmm that’s very tight. That’s. That’s also very tight. Oh yeah, you can feel that. “

While looking at Gen laying down “oh, yeah, your hips are rotated out of wack. That’s from the foot swinging out. No wonder your lower back hurts. We’re gonna focus on that.”

He then spent five minutes CRUNCHING me and punching my ass cheek with the heel of his hand. Like falcon punched my butt in the most respectful way possible 😂😂 I am embarrassed at how often I cracked and yelled “oh YEAH!” Because Mike and I live for cracking bones. He showed me a stretch mike can help me with as well.

He got me up and the apparent tension in my lower spine that has just been a muted, lived with pain was GONE

My dudes. My gals. My non-binary pals. I have been able to lounge with mike without shifting position every five min. It’s glorious. Im excited to sleep tonight because maybe I won’t spin like a rotisserie chicken anymore.

And?? He and his wife, who own the practice, dearly love teachers. They call 3-5 teacher time and try to keep appointments open for is then. AND they completely wave our copays.

Y’all. Sold on the spine magician.

TLDR: my back isn’t screaming (just tight from raking leaves now) and I had a genuinely nice encounter with a health professional who listened to me, wanted to fix my pain, did not blame it on my weight, made me feel comfortable and at ease, and then fucking fixed my pain.

I go back Wednesday. 8-12 treatments, and then we see if I still need PT. Need to remember to ask him about pillow Reccs.

[astrid-goes-for-a-spin]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: The Flash (TV 2014), Supergirl (TV 2015), Superman & Lois (TV 2020) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Lois Lane & Iris West Characters: Iris West, Lois Lane Additional Tags: Reporter! Iris West, Central City Citizen, Female Friendship, Commiseration, Women Being Awesome, Women Mentoring Women, Lois and Iris becoming friends, they have a lot in common okay, haphazard characterization of Lois Lane, unholy mix of CW Lois Lane with Smallville Lois Lane personality, Iris loves dessert, Cat Grant (mentioned) - Freeform Series: Part 3 of Iris Week 2020 Summary:

Then it all catches back up to her all at once: there’s no more Earth-1 or Earth-38, and in practice this means that it’s entirely possible she can run into Lois Lane at a national journalism conference.

On their own, Lois and Iris try to get to know one another and realize they have a lot in common.

---------------------

for the tumblr crowd, here’s the full text: 

“Hey! West! West! EARTH TO IRIS WEST-ALLEN!”

At this, Iris turns to see who’s been shouting at her. The conference center is choked with people, and Iris would much, much rather be under the radar this weekend. But apparently she’s well-known enough now, at least in journalistic circles, that the back of her head is recognizable.

It takes Iris a moment to make out who’s calling to her. Pale skin, dark hair, an almost manic affect. The woman waving her over is so absolutely in Iris’s mental uh-oh category that all she can do is blink and stare for at least two seconds.

Then it catches back up to her, all at once: there’s no more Earth-1 or Earth-38, and in practice this means that it’s entirely possible she can run into Lois Lane at a national journalism conference.

Iris wades through the crowds to catch up to her sort-of-friend, and Lois grabs her arm and tows her out of the foot traffic and into a hug.

“It’s so nice to see you doing something normal!” Lois exclaims, patting Iris on the back. While she talks, she’s already steering Iris towards one of the courtyards in the convention center, against the flow of people. “Is it just you here?”

“Yep.” Iris taps at her badge. “I only have three people on staff, so Allegra and Kamilla are back in Central sending their work for edits this weekend.”

“Oh right!” Lois points a finger. “I forgot you were at a do-it-yourself paper. How is it, being editor-in-chief?”

Iris laughs. “I don’t have time to win Pulitzers, that’s for sure. Do you know my entire staff is on Team Flash now? Half my work is doing cover-ups.”

Lois lets out a theatrical groan and guides Iris into a wrought-iron chair at a little table for two. “Hate that. Perks of still technically being on maternity leave after I spent almost two years off-planet is that Perry lets me do whatever I want as long as I’m sending stuff in every once in a while.”

A waiter comes by. Iris didn’t even know they were at a restaurant – but apparently there are several aside from the two food courts. Lois chats him up by name while Iris covertly tries to take some weight off her feet. Her pumps are killing her. She sneaks a glance at Lois’s – she’s also wearing heels, but with the ease of one long since resigned to damaged Achilles tendons.

By the time Iris is tasting an absolutely beautiful coffee-flavored gelato, their conversation has moved away from work: Lois tells Iris about living on Argo and the trials of caring for a half-Kryptonian infant here on Earth; Iris fills Lois in on meeting and losing her adult daughter in less than a year and about the months filled with dread that her husband’s time remnant might murder her. Lois commiserates by telling her about Lex Luthor, and Iris can’t help but worry about taking care of a future West-Allen who’s sure to be a speed-force-powered toddler.

“You and me? We deserve an award,” Lois says, snorting.

Scraping to get the very last of the gelato, Iris looks up at her. “Lois, you have two Pulitzers.”

“You will in time, once that little paper picks up,” Lois says carelessly, and Iris blushes. She might not have grown up on a world where Lois Lane’s name was newspaper royalty, but her confidence still feels pretty damn good. “Which it must if it’s still leading the metahuman beat from Nora’s time.”

“I guess we’ll just have to wait and see,” Iris says. “For once, the only things I know about the future are good ones.”

“Amen,” Lois chuckles. “God, I’d go crazy with all the time travel. Other planets I can handle. Alien husband, got it. But waiting kills me every time.”

“At least there’s oxygen on earth,” Iris says flatly. “I…cannot even imagine traveling in space. It’s making my skin crawl right now.” She shudders for effect.

A phone chimes. On instinct, both she and Lois grab for theirs.  Iris laughs a little – it’s only an alarm she set last night so she would remember she wanted to go to the panel at 3.

“I have to go!” Iris blurts, pulling out a bill and putting it down on the table, gathering up her purse. “I’m gonna be late to Cat Grant’s talk on growing a media company-”

“Oh, just skip it,” Lois groans. “If you really want to meet her, I’ll introduce you. She hangs all over my husband every time she sees him and drunk texts me about how much she hates my freckles and adorable button nose. We owe each other a few punches.”

“Lois!”

Whether Cat Grant’s talk is actually going to be good, Iris does not find out. The floor beneath her shakes, shakes in a way Iris knows in her gut is not good. Needless to say, she did not pack a plasma rifle for the journalism convention.

Lois, on the other hand, looks more energetic than Iris has seen her since the end of the multiverse. She’s got an honest-to-god pen and paper out (how does she have time? Just record it!) and is already halfway across the room before Iris can stand.

“Lois! Where are you going?” Iris shouts after her.

“To find out what’s causing the earthquake,” Lois says like Iris is being an idiot.

Iris stares, and then the light comes on. They’re in a building chock-full of news media – most of whom are cowering beneath any cover they can find. They have no idea how widespread whatever this problem is, and people need information.

Iris and Lois are, perhaps, some of the only journalists in the world with the experience and chops to find out what’s going on in a (likely) unnatural disaster, and steal the scoop while they’re at it.

“I’m calling Barry,” Iris says, hurrying after Lois.

“Too slow, West,” Lois snorts. “I already pressed the emergency beacon in my watch.”

Chasing after her through the convention center towards street, Iris laughs. “You’re such a nerd.”

“A nerd who, if you’re not careful, is gonna steal your headline,” Lois points out. “And by God, your little baby newspaper needs it more than my storied career does. Go, get on the scene!”

As Iris nears the last few sets of stairs to reach the outside, she can see flashes of gold as Barry races around, presumably rescuing civilians from debris. This earthquake was so sudden – and in Metropolis, not on any major fault lines. Iris flicks back through her mental catalog of catastrophes: Geomancer? Malcom Merlyn’s earthquake machine?

There’s the edge of a cape in view now out the glass doors, and Iris notices Lois isn’t with her – there’s a young woman on the stairs, gripping the railing like she’s afraid the sky might fall. Before Iris knows it, Lois is sitting beside her, coaxing her hands off, stroking her hair, urging her to stand. She looks up and meets Iris’s eyes.

“Go get that headline and scoop all these old bags,” Lois commands. “I’ve got it here.”  

Iris huffs a laugh, then reaches down and takes off her shoes. “Yes ma’am,” she says, snapping off a quick salute and dropping her purse.

Armed only with her phone, recorder app open, and the will to prove her newspaper will last into her daughter’s time on its own merits, Iris runs.

[drosera-sundews]

A word on gambling

Hey all, I found the Elsewhere University page like two days ago but man, I was so inspired right away. Please allow me to add to this marvellous universe. 

Some words in advance: 

This story ties into a few others. Nothing but quick mentions, though; @fruedtrollism and @comerunwildwithme you two may catch brief glances of you characters :) It also features the weird humanoid/horseoid skeleton beast from this post. 

For those who haven’t seen the EU blog yet: Al you need to know is that the setting is a prestigious university set on top of a fairy hill. Have fun reading!

 A word on gambling 

Not all who come to the Elsewhere University come to study. Most have a vague idea of what they’re getting into, whether from stories told by old, withered family members or odd advertisements, folders or websites filled with cryptic warnings. An unfortunate few go in unprepared, and either catch up quickly or pay the price.

Some come to bet, to bargain or to gamble.

While some of them are just plain greedy, it’s mostly just the lost causes. The ones who’ve heard ‘no’ a few times to often by many different doctors. The other students treat them with poorly concealed pity and resigned respect. After all, who wouldn’t turn to desperate measures when in their shoes? The world hasn’t been fair to them. The gentry are, at the very least. Cruel and merciless, true, but fair and honest at their cores.

Yet, the gamblers come in many different forms. A girl who’s lungs once belonged to another, the second son of a rich businessman, a young dancer who trained and fought for years to reach her dream and now found that her achilles tendon, both literally and figuratively, was just a few millimetres too short.  

Oh yes, you can wait for favours, but each and every person in this school with half a brain to them will do anything to help the gentry, if only not to get on their bad side. And without an agreement they may repay you in any way they see fit. The gifts will be valuable, but not what you need. You’ll need to show initiative, you’ll need to gamble with all that you have.

The problem with gambling with the fair folk is the currency. They are not interested in money, and there are very little precious goods they cannot acquire. Promises and debts are an option, but are risky when not very, very carefully defined. Some might have weird preferences (like that odd horse-like skeleton that will go to great lengths for shiny plastic beads). Most however don’t.  

They are called the Exchange Student, with capitals, because that’s what they do. They are a student, everyone is certain about that. They sit in math class, biology, sometimes in history. They hang out with the programmers and the art majors. They wear their iron, carry their salt, and seem perfectly normal, even from the corner of your eye. Unsuspecting, until you deliberately come to them.

Please leave your iron and salt at the door. Don’t worry, as long as we’re discussing business no one will disturb us. It is merely a show of faith.  

They’re called the Exchange Student because that’s what they do. Exchange of currencies. Exchange of valuta.

Don’t worry, I am a professional. The procedure will be quick and painless. I cannot promise a lack of scars, but damage will be minimal, I have done this many times before.”

“I hope you have brought a trinket?”

When the Exchange Student invites you to ‘discuss business’ you take two things with you. A trinket and an offering. The offering is something small. Some food, a nice rock, a coin. Some art majors perform their favourite song, or offer a drawing or a statue, anything goes. It’s but a small fee.

The trinket can also be anything, though of course there are rules. ‘It needs to last,’ says one of the engineers, ‘something sturdy, something that doesn’t break easily.’

‘Something small which is easily concealed. Something you can carry with you. You’ll want to.’

‘and for the love of everything, don’t take something living! Not even a plant! Well... unless you’re absolutely sure what you are doing.’

The Exchange Student will make a circle around them and their customer. Most often made of candles, rocks, or sometimes even coins. Mostly they will take you somewhere silent, somewhere not easily disturbed. Though there are tales of that one time they sat someone down in the middle of the southern canteen, their circle made out of various plastic cups and mugs. No one dared disturb them.

The procedure is painless. A few incantations, some mental exercises, guided meditation, long scaled talons grasping at the edges of your soul, carefully picking you apart.

You’ll come back to yourself, Trinket carefully clasped in your hands. Looking exactly the same as you went in. The item in your hands will have a word on it. A single word, usually golden letters and in the exact handwriting of the person holding it.

Courage, Willpower, Kindness, Insight, Patience, Optimism, Strength.

Anything goes. And that’s how the students of Elsewhere University were made to carefully reconsider their unspoken rule of ‘bet nothing you cannot lose.’

Turns out that those who take to gambling can lose more than they’d ever imagined.

It’s said that it’s a very jarring experience to have an integral part of your being cut away from you. It’s said that, although not painful, students who’ve undergone the procedure spend the first few days in a haze of discomfort, fully aware that something is wrong, something is not as it should be, and they will grab their Trinket and will press it to their skin and refuse to part with it. Their body and spirit knowing where it belongs, but just not being able to get it there.

Quite a few of these Trinkets are being kept on the campus. Most are surrounded in mystery. A few students are suspected of having made a deal with the Exchange Student, like the photographer, the one with the lip ring, who owns this small umbrella that jingles when it rains. Or the student who always wears pearls. Many have cast a glance to spy for golden letters. 

Some are more open about their deals with the Exchange Student. It’s a tradition among programming majors to bind their Insight to a rubber duck, the sillier the better. It’s ridiculed a lot, but the tradition stands strong across the years. And it’s said that sometimes when one of the programmers is really stuck in one of their endless webs of codes the others will aid them by placing their rubber ducks in a circle around the computer. The ones willing to share their Insight are said to be nigh unstoppable.

The Trinkets are like casino tokens. The gentry find them irresistible, and will go to great lengths to acquire them. They never steal them, instead opting to either win or trade them, playing by their own odd rules.

Good gamblers can get anything from the gentry. Magical weapons, exotic skills and other gifts. Sometimes in the form of small objects engraved with gold.

Just remember not to let them catch you cheating.

Another good thing to remember: even though the gentry will not steal a Trinket as by their rules, the same cannot be said of the human students. Guard your virtues well.

Losing a part of yourself is highly unadvisable, always.

Some try to cheat the system. Cutting of pieces they think they can do without. The second son who came specifically to gamble for glory decided he could do without his fears, especially if he was to join the fae for poker night. He had the Exchange Student cut away his Fear. Covered it in salt, put it in a box of rowan wood and gave the key to a friend, to safeguard. He then shamelessly stepped into the queens quarters, asking her what it was worth, what she was willing to give him.

Most were pretty sure the noise drifting through the windows that night didn’t come from rugby practice.

The defected dancer did not wish to gamble. She knew what she had, what she wanted and what she wished to sacrifice for that.

“I offer you my Preservance. I have trained and trained for years on uncertain odds. It is finely honed and very strong and I hope to not need it anymore after today. In return I would like a better body. Suited for a dancer. So that I will not get injured and that stupid things like too short tendons or too weak joints will no longer hold me back. That is my bargain.”

Ḏ̤͕̜̄E̶̱̭A̖̙͞L̮͔̙͖͖ͧ͢

No one is quite sure she got what she wished for. Her body is certainly suited to dancing. Waving and mesmerizing, hypnotizing even. All students on campus know to avert their eyes. Things like that are dangerous, they know.

Few have tried to peek at her face, to see if they could find any trace of their former classmate back. To see if she was happy.

It’s hard to tell emotions from a face that has no eyes.

She’s rarely seen anymore, these days. Apparently she dances for the queen now. An honour, truly.

Legends tell of one gambler that made it out with both her Trinket and her desired price. The girl with the lungs that did not belong to her. The girl who came to the university with only two years left to live, and nothing left to lose. She sought out the Exchange Student in her second week, bringing two large, copper coins she’d saved to put on her eyelids when all went wrong.

She did not cheat and she did not bargain. She gambled. She went to that one odd place in the library, stepped into the shadows, and was not seen for two whole months.

A single game of cards may take that long. Especially with such high stakes. Especially with the fae.

They appreciate warriors. She had come to their table, faced with the entire court. She was given cards that had no numbers, but unfamiliar runes. She was not told the rules. Yet she played. Mimicking the others, she held her own for days and days and days.

Of course she lost. The fae are rarely beaten at their own games.

When she came back, stumbling, disoriented, underfed and horribly dehydrated, she remembered barely anything. Not the faces of her opponents, not the hand of cards she was dealt or what the other players had put on the table alongside her Trinket. She only remembered losing, the cold dread as she stared down at the horrid combination of cards her weak hand could not possibly compare with. And the queens cold crackling as she reached across the table for the small copper coin. And the horrid sensation of ice flooding her chest as her Kindness was taken from her.    

A very powerful Trinket indeed.

She’d woken up laying on a table in the library. Gasping for breath through her dry, dry throat. A copper coin on a very thin chain wrapped around her neck. On one side the golden letters, on the other a complex pattern, a rune in an unknown language, (though a few very bright history student managed to decipher an ancient runic symbol for Air among the twining lines).  

They brought her to the medics, and it was only after thorough examination that the girl discovered that despite her sore throat, her breath came easier than it had in years.

She never left Elsewhere University, afraid that whatever enchantment had been cast on her would falter when away from the queen. Instead she chose to finish the study she’d randomly signed up for in her mad gamble. She ended up a teacher, a permanent part of the staff. The others understood that sending her away would not be an option. Most other teachers had been students as well, after all. They understood the ways this place can change you.

She still wears the amulet up to this day. Some say that this is not a choice born from the instinctive desire to keep a Trinket close, but that every time she removes it from her skin her breath will come short and her lungs will burn. Some even say that it cannot be removed, whether by choice or force. They say the queen enchanted it (too much, too powerful. Let it stay with the human. Where no fae can get their hands on it.)

Some come to her still, for advice and tips on gambling. She’ll send them all away, discourage them. Even though deep inside she knows she’s made the right choice.

‘It needs to last’ one of the engineers had told her. She grasps her amulet, the copper strong as ever, infused with unfamiliar magic keeping her alive. She knows her Kindness will outlast her and wonders where it will end up. 

However much the memory haunts her, she hopes that maybe one day it will make its way back into the hands of the queen. Out of anyone, she certainly needs it the most.  

[bts-dontknowher]

Better Days Pt. 1

Yoongi X Reader

Genre: Angst

Word Count: 1,608

Author: Chestnut

TRIGGER WARNING: This fictional writing contains scenes of abuse, rape, and murder/violence. If you feel that this will upset you in any way please refrain from reading.

“Stay away from Jungkook, you psychopath!” Hoseok shouted, yanking Jungkook toward him, “You’re going to kill him too”. I sighed and rubbed my forehead, wishing he’d just drop it already. “How many times do I have to tell you, Hoseok,” I groaned, watching him possessively push Jungkook behind him, “I didn’t kill anyone and I’m never going to kill anyone”. Jungkook moved his hyung out of the way and came back to my side, interlocking his fingers with mine and attempting to stand his ground. I love Jungkook, don’t get me wrong, but his “friends” never seem to give him the respect he deserves, so he’s always feeling the need to show his strength and dominance with me. I don’t like it, I don’t want it. Jungkook cleared his throat softly, “I asked you before and I’m telling you now, leave Chelsea alone. There’s no way she could’ve killed him”. Hoseok threw his hands in the air, exasperated and screamed, “all the signs lead to her! You’re blind and you’re stupid to believe her shit, Jungkook. I’m tired of fighting you both, you’ll see when she’s coming for you next”. He snatched his keys off the table beside us and left the dorm, slamming the door behind him loudly. Tonight, it was only supposed to be Jungkook and I here, but of course someone interrupted. Someone always interrupts because they all think that I had something to do with Yoongi’s death. I want to say that they’re wrong, I want to plead innocent but… I know what happened, the blood is on my hands—and stained on my floors.

At first, Yoongi was nice. He always bought me gifts and treated me like a princess. He spent every moment he could talking with me and trying to hold my hand. If he couldn’t see me a on certain day, he would send me flowers and call multiple times to check on me. A year flew by and I felt so in love, so safe and at peace with Yoongi, and we decided to move in together. We got an apartment in the same building as Bangtan’s dorm and everything was fine, until one day Yoongi’s gentle touch and loving gaze turned into fists and a hateful glare. It felt as if every day I woke up with a different bruise somewhere on my body.

Yoongi was smart, he always hit me places on my body that wouldn’t be visible if I wore clothes, and he always played loud music or covered my mouth to mask my screams for help. Certain days he wouldn’t even let me leave the house after a beating because he worried that I would go and tell other people what he had done to me the night before, but secretly he knew I wouldn’t. Yoongi knew that I was too stuck in the illusion that we were in love and hoped that one day it would get better and I wouldn’t have to let anybody know ever. That day never came. I honestly don’t think I wanted that day to come anymore – when I made that realization, I knew I needed to find a way to end it.

I tried everything I could think of. First, I told Yoongi I wanted to break up with him, that night I ended up with a bruise on my upper thigh. I tried to be gross and let all my leg hair grow out and wouldn’t shower, and he got upset with me for not taking care of myself, and in order to avoid getting beat I cleaned up. Yet somehow, he found something that I needed to be “punished” for – bruised hip. One day I decided to tell him that I was going to stay at my mom’s house for a night, of course I was planning on not going home to Yoongi ever again but he didn’t have to know that. By the end of the second night Yoongi had come to get me. When we got home he acted as if everything was okay, and I almost believed him. Then the sun set and the day came to an end and I was in so much pain after what he had done that I couldn’t sit or sleep comfortably. I was raped that night, but little did he know that he would never be able to do that again.

I worked as a detective. I could easily have gotten myself out of so many of these situations, but I “loved” Yoongi. I thought he loved me. I never wanted to hurt him, never, but one day that man had pushed me too far.

It was dark and rainy, and Yoongi had just gotten home from a long day of practice. The night started out just like usual, him plopping down on the couch and demanding that I bring him a beer. Then he would watch whatever was on TV for a while until he could find something to be mad at me about. Yoongi got lucky that day. He was watching the 9PM news and they were talking about his group. Now usually when he sees something on TV about BTS, he changes the channel right away, because what use is there in watching news on things that you already know – there’s nothing new he could learn about his own band.

To Yoongi’s surprise there was some actually something very interesting regarding one of his bandmate’s. Taehyung apparently was in a secret relationship! According to what the news said, Taehyung and an unknown woman were seen leaving his apartment building together at 2AM the night before. The reporter showed one photo as evidence, and with it came the start of a long night.

The woman in the photo kind of resembled me. The only part of her face you could really see were her eyes, she had a hat on and a mask covering her face from the nose bridge down, so no one would ever really be able to identify who the woman was, but this was evidence enough for Yoongi. He automatically assumed it was me. He yelled, “Wow, I knew you were a whore, but one of my closest friends? Really?!” I didn’t know what to do, I didn’t want to argue with him but I needed to save my ass. I pleaded with him and cried and screamed. I kept telling him, “It’s not me, I swear! You can’t even see that woman’s face!”, but he had no heart to ever try and listen. He swiftly stood up and took his belt off. I fought back for a little while, but he was always stronger than me. He had me cornered and began to strike me with his belt. One, two, three, I counted in my head. The last number I got to was 16, this was when my mind went blank and my body felt numb. After another 5 minutes or so of hitting me with his belt he got bored. He lifted me up and threw me over his shoulder and onto our bed. He started ripping my clothes off. Finally, he got to my pants, and this is when I came back to reality. I kneed him in the groin, and gathered all the strength I had left in me and ran to the kitchen. I shuffled through the drawers until I found a knife that would do some real damage and hid behind our kitchen island. When his footsteps got close enough I attacked. I struck him first in the Achille’s tendon. If that tendon is severed, the affected leg is immobilized. Once he hit the ground I stabbed him in the stomach so that the toxins that his stomach was holding could leak out to the rest of his organs and cause them to deteriorate. Next, I cut him in the nook of his elbow on both of his arms so that he couldn’t use them to try and grab me any longer.

Then I looked at his face. I saw the man that I once loved. The man that I had created so many happy memories with. Then I saw the blood. The blood brought me back. Everything was red. Our once perfectly marbled, white, tile flooring was covered in red. My clothes were stained and there were splatters of blood against our white counters, and the man I used to love was bleeding out. So many thoughts were running through my head. What have I done, what will I do, how did it come to this, does Yoongi even deserve this? Even if I did call an ambulance now it would be too late. He would die due to loss of blood. I decided to end it all for him. I kissed him on the cheek, one final kiss, thinking of all the good times we had, and I gently began to wrap my hands against either side of his head. In between my sobs, I somehow choked out, “I’m sorry, goodbye”, and I gave a hard, fast twist, and broke his neck. I spent some time holding onto Yoongi’s lifeless body, I cried over it for what seemed like hours, but when the clock in our living room chimed and dinged 3 times, I knew it was time to get it together. I had to figure out what I would do next. I needed to find a way to get away with this – I couldn’t go to jail. I was a detective for God’s sake.

Author's Note: This is the first part of a series that I am planning on writing. It will have approximately 3-4 parts. This part is rather violent but I promise as the story progresses it will be more lighthearted! This is also my first time writing anything! I hope you guys enjoy!

[cerastes]

Everybody* Loves Baldur

We are going to take a DETOUR from Arthurian mythos and Robin “Psychopath In The” Hood stories to explore the bizarre and extravagant lands of Old Norse mythos. Now, I know I say this about lots of different mythos, but, boy oh boy, Norse mythos, wild stuff, you’ll see. Today, we’ll talk about the supposed owner of a gate a lot of people who like classic Western RPGs are familiar with: Baldur.

Now, before even getting into Old Norse mythos, you need to understand something: No one is fully sure what Old Norse mythos is. A lot of scholars are not sure what the hell some characters are supposed to even be, but at least, unlike Irish mythos, we have mostly accurate ways to pronounce their names, so at least we can refer to them by name properly while we wonder what the fuck is going on instead of being stuck at “Dfk... Dufil... Dukfil... THAT DUDE went and asked Medb something”. But the thing is, Norse mythos is mostly preserved in its general gist, since a lot of the writings dealing with the itty gritty details are often damaged so there’s lotsa personal conjecture. 

BUT TODAY YOU MUSTN’T WORRY ABOUT ANY OF THAT BECAUSE BALDUR’S STORY IS ONE OF THEM WELL PRESERVED ONES, HAHA, PSYCHE, I BET I HAD YER KNICKERS IN A TWISTER. Aaalright, so, Baldur, Baldur’s the god of Light, or maybe Love, possibly Peace, no one is sure because he is never explicitly mentioned as being a “god of this thing”, but it’s mostly assumed he is the God of Light because of something I’ll mention later, and the thing with Baldur is that EVERYONE loves him. Baldur’s super hot and super nice, and he knows it, but he isn’t stuck up about it, he’s honestly the ideal person, Norse people back then would often beg for Baldur’s blessings on their newborn babies so they would be hot and cool like him. Practically everyone likes Baldur. Hell, it gets to such a point that, in another story not entirely relevant to today’s, the giantess Skadi, who is the first recorded person in history and lore to have a raging foot fetish, saw these GORGEOUS toes and immediately assumed “THOSE GOTTA BE BALDUR’S, ONLY BALDUR CAN HAVE FEET THIS GOD DAMN BEAUTIFUL, I AM GONNA SUCK THOSE TOES” and asked for marriage immediately, except, the feet weren’t Baldur’s, they were Njord’s (another god), and Skadi was like “aw fuck” and they got married because Njord happened to be a macrophile and liked his women big, but as with all marriages shotgunned into place by fetishes and a lack of contact, they ended up divorcing. BUT THAT is another story (and a good one, Skadi’s a fun lady). The point is, Baldur is so widely god damn loved that shit like this apparently happened a couple of times. You know you are a Pussy Destroyer when someone gets Schrodinger’s Married because it could possibly be you.

So Baldur was basically living the life, being nice, hot, and beloved, when one day, he starts having bad dreams. In these dreams, Baldur dies. Now, this is the part where you say “uh ok”, and this is the part where I explain “DREAMS WERE ALWAYS PROPHETIC IN NORSE MYTHOS” and now you say “oh”. So yeah, Baldur was going to die. Which made zero sense, because he is a god, and thus, biologically immortal (as in, [Shirou voice] only dies if he’s killed, won’t die of old age), so if he was going to die, it meant that someone was plotting to kill him. So Baldur goes to his daddy, Odin, and he’s crying and holding onto his blanket so Odin gets worried, as any father does, and asks “SON, DID YOU GET A BOO BOO, WHAT IS WRONG”, and Baldur explains he’s been dreaming he’s gonna die, and Frigg (his mother, Odin’s wife, the goddess also known as Frea, not to be confused with Freya) is also really sad because she’s also been dreaming that Baldur’s gonna kick the bucket, and in Norse mythos, when TWO whole people have the same dream, that’s basically something that WILL happen. Also, it makes no sense, because everybody loves Baldur, so who the fuck would want him dead? You know what else makes no sense? That Odin seems to forget his piece of shit son Loki exists. WAU.

So, shit, alright, fuck, we gotta deal with this, pronto, and Powermom is here to help. Frigg gets on her soccer mom van and drives at full speed across the Norse world and makes everything promise that they will not harm nor kill Baldur, ever. Notice I said everyTHING and not everyONE. That’s right, fellas, Frigging Frigg talked to absolutely everything in the world and made them promise to not kill Baldur, which was actually pretty easy, because everyone was like “yeah sure man we love Baldur, why would we harm him in the first place, we just want his autograph and his babies”, because if you are hot and nice, the world is yours. So now the whole world promised to not harm Baldur under any circumstance. The whole world, except the mistletoe, because the mistletoe was too young to make promises, so Frigg didn’t make it swear anything aND YOU NO DOUBT KNOW WHERE THIS IS GOING. It’s like when I tell you “So SIegfried is invulnerable EXCEPT for a leaf shaped spot on his back” or “Achilles is impervious to all damage EXCEPT in his tendon”, old literature was kinda UNCOUTH AND HEAVY on the foreshadowing, as reading mythology will often tell you.

So Baldur is now literally impervious to all forms of damage, because the world promised not to harm him. So what do you do when you are undamageable? Why, you get shit thrown at you for kicks and giggles! The god damn gods, with Baldur also into it, straight developed this hobby of having B-Boy stand in the middle of the hall while everyone threw spears and arrows and axes and rockets and chairs at him just for a laugh and watch as they all missed or failed to injury him in the slightest because, hey, promises are promises. This is the part where I tell you that Humans Have Always Been Humans, even gods, because if we have the opportunity to do something incredibly stupid like lugging javelins at a dude just to see what happens if we know it won’t hurt him, you damn right know we will. So they gods are getting shitfaced and rowdy with this whole Put The Spear On Baldur game they made up, when Loki, using his Robbie Rotten powers to disguise into an old lady, approaches Fregg, who was having a laugh watching at literally everyone throw sharp shit at her invincible son.

“HEY FREGG, WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS”

“Oh, you know, the world promised not to harm Baldur, see, so now we are just throwing shit at him, it’s ok”

“Everything promised not to harm him?”

“Well, yeah, everything except the mistletoe, because it’s too young to make promises, but it’ll be alright”

“YES INDEED VERY VERY ALRIGHT”

So Loki fucks off and goes to find a mistletoe, naturally. And this one isn’t for kissing, no sir, because Loki somehow sharpens the mistletoe and makes it into a mistlefoe, and fashions a god damn spear out of the mistlefoe because Fuck You He’s Loki And He Can Do That. Now, we all know a good trickster doesn’t get his own hands dirty, so he’s going around with his mistlefoe spear, looking for someone to Do The Deed, when he finds Hod (also known as Hodur), the blind twin brother of Baldur, crying in a corner. 

“Sup B, why you crying”

“Well, everyone is having fun throwing miscellaneous war paraphernalia at my bro and they won’t let me in ‘cause I’m blind as a bat and they are afraid I might hit someone else”

“How Unreasonable Of Them To Not Let The Blind Dude Throw Killthings! I have just the thing for you! I will lend you my spear, so go have a swing at B-Boy”

“SU-WEET”

So Hod, armed with the Mistlefoe Spear, takes a running start and throws that sucker with a smile on his face, rolls a natural 20, and deals the Criticalest of fucking Hits on Baldur, landing the spear SQUARE on his heart. Why were they even AFRAID of this dude missing, the guy was clearly a marksman. Except, this was the mistletoe, so it pierced Baldur’s gorgeous, well oiled pectorals easily, stabbed his heart, and killed him dead. Oops.

Odin was like “??????” and was SO PISSED that he went, had mega sex with the giantess Rindr, gave birth to Vali as soon as they were done, and Vali grew into adulthood after a single day and then killed Hod. Do you ever get SO ANGRY that you go have sex with a giantess just to spawn a kid that immediately becomes a warrior JUST to kill a dude that pissed you off? Odin, you could’ve just HIT HIM yourself, what the fuck.

Well, anyways, so everyone was pretty sad because Cool Guy Had Bad Day and died. Messengers everywhere we doling out the news, women wept, men cried, it was a bad day. It was such a bad day that Hel, ruler of, uh, Hell, was like “aw shucks that kinda sucks?”, and as much as she liked the guy, Hel had a job to do as the rule of the underworld, but she decided to make an exception this one time, but only if the world earned it. Hel grabbed her megaphone and yelled “ALRIGHT KIDS, so I know you are all very sad Baldur’s dead and you want him back, so I am going to make a ONE TIME EXCEPTION, I will let him out of the underworld and revive, only, and ONLY, if everyone in the world cries and weeps for him”.

And everyone was like pffff no biggie, we love that dude, let’s CRY, so they did. Hel’s doing the checklist, like some sort of twisted Santa Klaus, checking who’s crying, and the list is almost full, but then she burrows her brow and drops the list. “Well, I guess Baldur is not coming back to life, that one girl didn’t cry” and everyone was like “WHAT WHO”

So Hel points at the giantess Thokk, whose name literally means “thanks”, ironically enough, and says “she ain’t crying, deal’s off” and she closes the Underworld, presumably to fangirl out to Baldur who lived there now. So everyone’s naturally like “THOKK WHAT THE FUCK” but then Freddy from Scooby Doo is like “Wait, there’s something fishy about this” and removes her face and, What Do You Know, It Was Loki In Disguise. He went and ruined EVERYTHING for EVERYONE again. And I don’t simply mean “he made sure someone everyone loved died and stayed dead”, I mean “Loki got Baldur killed and kickstarted the Ragnarok” because Baldur’s death robbed the world of light, hence why he’s assumed to be the God of Light.

So uh

Good job buddy.

Also, Loki literally had nothing to gain from this. Ragnarok’s also a really bad deal for him. He just... Did it. Because.

So the real message of the Story of Baldur is that one very dedicated asshole can and will ruin things for everyone and everything if left to his own devices.

[tenttokyo-blog1]

Beautiful Hiking Boots

Here are some amazing webpages large dry erase calendar, camping headlamp, collapsible coolers. Hiking Boots

Very good top quality hiking boots are an investment that can be anticipated to final a long time, but only if you consider care of them. This report will tell you how to take correct care of your hiking boots, from breaking them in to having them resoled, so you will get the most value for your investment.

In this article, I will go over five main points of proper care and upkeep of your hiking boots:

1. Breaking them in.

2. Waterproofing.

3. Cleaning and basic servicing.

4. Resoling.

5. Realizing when they’ve had it.

Breaking In your Hiking Boots

The objective of breaking in your hiking boots is to soften them so they will not harm your feet. They need to be produced flexible at precisely the places where your feet and ankles bend. The very best way to do this is to walk in them. The purpose of breaking in your hiking boots is to do it in short walks, so you don’t uncover yourself in the middle of the wilderness with blisters and an inflexible pair of hiking boots.

Hiking shoes or day-hiking boots may not need any break-in, but attempt it just to be confident. Very heavy hiking boots may not in fact break in, but sporting them will make your feet grow tougher in the spots where the boots refuse to bend.

In both case, what you want to do is to put on your new hiking boots for quick intervals of time. Dress in them all around the residence, on your morning walk, on your way to perform and back (or put on them at work, if your job does not need a lot of walking and if dress codes permit). Wear them on brief hikes.

Once the boots are correctly broken in, they will truly feel relaxed as you stroll. Then you’re ready to get them on a critical hike.

You may possibly have heard of leaving your new hiking boots out in the climate, or soaking them and wearing them as they dry out, or other drastic and exotic methods for breaking them in. If it would seem like a negative idea, that’s because it is. Break them in gently, and they will final considerably longer.

Waterproofing your Hiking Boots

Most hiking boots are currently waterproof when you get them, but you even now have to do some further waterproofing. Examine the manufacturer’s recommendation, either in documentation that came with the boots or on their Web site.

Diverse supplies demand different kinds of waterproofing. Leather, whether total grain or split, calls for a wax-based waterproofing compound (which is specifically what shoe polish is). Material, particularly nylon blends, calls for silicone-based waterproofing spray.

Because most hiking boots are manufactured of a mixture of leather and fabric, you will have to use both sorts of waterproofing. And be cautious, because the silicone-based sprays can be hazardous to the glued seams of leather hiking boots. The very best method for such dual-material hiking boots is to spray the silicone-based waterproofing on the fabric panels while shielding the leather, then spray the wax-based waterproofing on the leather panels and the seams.

If you have complete grain leather hiking boots, you can both use a wax-based waterproofing spray or old-fashioned shoe polish. Shoe polish performs best on the seams, as you can put it on added thick and work it into the seams and stitching.

Before you very first use them, and after each main hike, clean your boots totally and give them a full waterproofing treatment. Hiking sneakers, worn infrequently, may need to have the waterproofing remedy just once a 12 months or so, but use your judgment. If you see new scuff or dress in marks after a hike, reapply the waterproofing.

Cleansing and Common Upkeep of your Hiking Boots

Clean off the mud and dust from your hiking boots after each day of hiking. Each time you stop for a major break on a hike, verify your boots and get rid of any extra mud or dust. To clean your boots while hiking or camping, just kick against a rock, bang your boots collectively, or scrape with a stick if needed.

If you let the mud dry on your boots, it will both leach out the waterproofing and soak into the boot. This gradually destroys leather, and it’s not very good for nylon, both.

Once you get property, or at least every single few days on a protracted backpacking trek, wipe your boots with a damp cloth. Be positive to get off all the foreign matter, so there is practically nothing to interfere with the waterproofing chemical substances, and so you can inspect them for harm.

If a seam is coming undone, cut off any dangling threads. If the dangling thread catches on one thing, the seam will merely come undone that much quicker. Based on the extent of the damage and the value of the boots, you might want to bring them to a cobbler for repairs, or simply apply further shoe polish to hold the loose ends in place and to guarantee that the seam is waterproof.

If your boots have gotten soaked, dry them out slowly. Speedy drying will make the leather components shrink and pull away from the material components and from the rubber sole. Pack the damp boots complete of wadded newspapers, and substitute the newspapers every single few hours until the boots are dry.

In between hikes, a pair of shoe trees can help your boots to hold their form. And this will be very important to your comfort on your up coming hike.

Resoling your Hiking Boots

If you have a great pair of backpacking boots, you can have the soles replaced when they wear out. This will expense anywhere from $40.00 to $80.00.

Hiking footwear or day-hiking boots are not really worth resoling. Generally, the uppers will put on out as quickly as the soles, but even if the uppers seem to be in good form, the expense just doesn’t make sense.

Search for an seasoned cobbler in your town to resole your boots. There are companies on the Internet that will do this, too, but the shipping charges include significantly to the all round value. The main benefit is that all such services promise their perform. If you don’t know a cobbler you can trust with your precious hiking boots, search for “boot resole” on the Internet.

After your hiking boots have been resoled, they will be like a new pair. That signifies you need to break them in again.

Understanding When your Hiking Boots are Worn Out

Examine your hiking boots for dress in, and identify when it’s time to change them or, if they are worth it, to invest in key repairs.

The most apparent dress in stage is the tread. At times the tread will be visibly worn, such that the cracks between the knobs of the tread are not deep adequate to offer traction. On some hiking boots, you will find out that there are two layers inside of the sole, and after the softer portion wears through, you are strolling on a tougher inner portion that does not provide very good traction on tough rock.

Yet another typical wear stage is the inside of the scree collar (the padding about the prime that keeps pebbles out without having chafing your Achilles tendon). If the lining has worn through and the foam padding has been exposed, your hiking boots have to be repaired or replaced promptly.

Check the lining of the sole of your hiking boots. Very often, you will find a hole sporting through under your heel or toe. (Removable insoles can avoid this, but be certain to exchange the insoles often.) Such a hole will soon start causing blisters.

In some hiking boots, the uppers will begin to put on at the seams. You could discover that the seams are coming apart very rapidly, as friction between the panels tends to make the material weaker, permitting even more movement and more friction.

Hiking sneakers and day-hiking boots might fail by the sole separating from the uppers. If this happens before the shoes have begun showing other critical indications of dress in, take it as a lesson: Keep away from that brand in the potential. If it occurs in conjunction with other failures, nicely, it’s just time for a new pair of hiking boots.

If your hiking boots include both leather and material, you may discover that the leather has gradually stretched from the consistent tension of the laces. The material will get started to wrinkle as the leather stretches away from it. Once this starts, seam failure will quickly stick to.

Yet another problem with stretching leather is that your hiking boots could attain a stage where you can no longer tighten them! I have only observed this once, on a pair of split leather day-hiking boots. (Hated to see them go.)

Full-grain leather, effectively cared for, is nearly indestructible. If not correctly cared for, it will crack. There’s not much you can do but substitute the boots, and try to get far better care of the up coming pair.

Conclusion

Consider care of your hiking boots, and they’ll get care of you. Hold them clean, waterproof them with the manufacturer’s suggested waterproofing compound, and they will serve you for thousands of miles on the trail.

You can also check out some of my other websites at heavy duty magnets, nursery glider chair, extra large beach towels.

[little-missmarleyroserps]

Elegant Hiking Boots

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Very good high quality hiking boots are an investment that can be anticipated to last a long time, but only if you take care of them. This post will tell you how to consider appropriate care of your hiking boots, from breaking them in to having them resoled, so you will get the most value for your investment.

In this article, I will discuss five primary points of proper care and servicing of your hiking boots:

1. Breaking them in.

2. Waterproofing.

3. Cleaning and general servicing.

4. Resoling.

5. Knowing when they’ve had it.

Breaking In your Hiking Boots

The goal of breaking in your hiking boots is to soften them so they will not harm your feet. They should be produced flexible at exactly the spots where your feet and ankles bend. The greatest way to do this is to stroll in them. The goal of breaking in your hiking boots is to do it in short walks, so you don’t uncover yourself in the middle of the wilderness with blisters and an inflexible pair of hiking boots.

Hiking shoes or day-hiking boots may possibly not require any break-in, but consider it just to be confident. Very heavy hiking boots might not truly break in, but sporting them will make your feet grow tougher in the areas where the boots refuse to bend.

In both situation, what you want to do is to dress in your new hiking boots for brief intervals of time. Wear them around the property, on your morning stroll, on your way to function and back (or put on them at operate, if your task does not call for a good deal of strolling and if dress codes permit). Put on them on quick hikes.

Once the boots are effectively broken in, they will feel comfortable as you walk. Then you’re prepared to consider them on a significant hike.

You might have heard of leaving your new hiking boots out in the climate, or soaking them and wearing them as they dry out, or other drastic and exotic techniques for breaking them in. If it seems like a negative thought, that’s because it is. Break them in gently, and they will last significantly longer.

Waterproofing your Hiking Boots

Most hiking boots are previously waterproof when you acquire them, but you nevertheless have to do some extra waterproofing. Verify the manufacturer’s recommendation, both in documentation that came with the boots or on their Web site.

Various supplies demand different types of waterproofing. Leather, no matter whether full grain or split, needs a wax-based waterproofing compound (which is specifically what shoe polish is). Fabric, specifically nylon blends, needs silicone-based waterproofing spray.

Given that most hiking boots are created of a combination of leather and material, you will have to use both types of waterproofing. And be mindful, because the silicone-based sprays can be hazardous to the glued seams of leather hiking boots. The best technique for such dual-material hiking boots is to spray the silicone-based waterproofing on the material panels while shielding the leather, then spray the wax-based waterproofing on the leather panels and the seams.

If you have full grain leather hiking boots, you can either use a wax-based waterproofing spray or old-fashioned shoe polish. Shoe polish works greatest on the seams, as you can put it on further thick and work it into the seams and stitching.

Before you initial use them, and after each key hike, clean your boots extensively and give them a complete waterproofing treatment method. Hiking footwear, worn infrequently, may possibly require the waterproofing therapy just once a year or so, but use your judgment. If you see new scuff or wear marks after a hike, reapply the waterproofing.

Cleansing and Common Maintenance of your Hiking Boots

Clean off the mud and dust from your hiking boots after each day of hiking. Each time you stop for a key break on a hike, check your boots and get rid of any excess mud or dust. To clean your boots while hiking or camping, just kick against a rock, bang your boots with each other, or scrape with a stick if needed.

If you allow the mud dry on your boots, it will both leach out the waterproofing and soak into the boot. This gradually destroys leather, and it’s not great for nylon, both.

Once you get home, or at least every single few days on a protracted backpacking trek, wipe your boots with a damp cloth. Be certain to get off all the foreign matter, so there is nothing at all to interfere with the waterproofing chemical compounds, and so you can examine them for injury.

If a seam is coming undone, reduce off any dangling threads. If the dangling thread catches on some thing, the seam will merely come undone that much faster. Dependent on the extent of the harm and the cost of the boots, you might want to deliver them to a cobbler for repairs, or basically apply added shoe polish to hold the loose ends in spot and to make sure that the seam is waterproof.

If your boots have gotten soaked, dry them out gradually. Fast drying will make the leather parts shrink and pull away from the fabric parts and from the rubber sole. Pack the damp boots full of wadded newspapers, and replace the newspapers each few hours until the boots are dry.

In between hikes, a pair of shoe trees can help your boots to hold their shape. And this will be very important to your comfort on your following hike.

Resoling your Hiking Boots

If you have a excellent pair of backpacking boots, you can have the soles replaced when they dress in out. This will expense anyplace from $40.00 to $80.00.

Hiking footwear or day-hiking boots are not really worth resoling. Usually, the uppers will put on out as rapidly as the soles, but even if the uppers seem to be in very good form, the cost just doesn’t make sense.

Look for an seasoned cobbler in your town to resole your boots. There are solutions on the Internet that will do this, too, but the shipping charges include substantially to the all round expense. The primary benefit is that all such solutions ensure their perform. If you don’t know a cobbler you can believe in with your precious hiking boots, search for “boot resole” on the Web.

After your hiking boots have been resoled, they will be like a new pair. That implies you have to break them in again.

Being aware of When your Hiking Boots are Worn Out

Inspect your hiking boots for dress in, and understand when it’s time to substitute them or, if they are well worth it, to invest in significant repairs.

The most apparent wear level is the tread. At times the tread will be visibly worn, such that the cracks between the knobs of the tread are not deep ample to offer traction. On some hiking boots, you will uncover that there are two layers within the sole, and after the softer portion wears through, you are walking on a harder inner portion that does not give very good traction on hard rock.

Yet another frequent wear level is the inside of the scree collar (the padding about the top that keeps pebbles out with no chafing your Achilles tendon). If the lining has worn through and the foam padding has been exposed, your hiking boots need to be repaired or replaced promptly.

Examine the lining of the sole of your hiking boots. Very frequently, you will locate a hole wearing through under your heel or toe. (Removable insoles can avert this, but be positive to replace the insoles regularly.) Such a hole will quickly get started leading to blisters.

In some hiking boots, the uppers will commence to put on at the seams. You might locate that the seams are coming apart very rapidly, as friction between the panels helps make the material weaker, allowing even more motion and more friction.

Hiking sneakers and day-hiking boots could fail by the sole separating from the uppers. If this happens before the footwear have begun displaying other serious indicators of dress in, take it as a lesson: Avoid that brand in the future. If it takes place in conjunction with other failures, nicely, it’s just time for a new pair of hiking boots.

If your hiking boots have both leather and material, you could uncover that the leather has gradually stretched from the continuous stress of the laces. The material will get started to wrinkle as the leather stretches away from it. Once this starts, seam failure will soon follow.

Yet another problem with stretching leather is that your hiking boots may attain a level where you can no longer tighten them! I have only observed this once, on a pair of split leather day-hiking boots. (Hated to see them go.)

Full-grain leather, correctly cared for, is almost indestructible. If not correctly cared for, it will crack. There’s not considerably you can do but exchange the boots, and try to take far better care of the following pair.

Conclusion

Take care of your hiking boots, and they’ll consider care of you. Keep them clean, waterproof them with the manufacturer’s suggested waterproofing compound, and they will serve you for 1000’s of miles on the trail.

You can also check out some of my other websites at led camp lights, highest spf sunscreen, toddler bedding for girls.

[captainbadfoot-blog]

47 Parks: 43 - The Hangover

Peckham Rye

10th June, 2017

Ok, so I could have felt worse but boy was it hard work this week. I normally try to avoid drinking alcohol the night before a parkrun but I thought I would have a few this week to celebrate a colleague’s birthday and, inevitably, a few turned into quite a few, which turned into a few too many. Although I didn’t get home disastrously late I didn’t get anywhere near as much sleep as my lager-poisoned body demanded, so that I woke at 6am to find myself laughing at the alarm clock. It had to be a joke. It wasn’t. I dragged myself out of bed and took manual control of my body since attempting to do anything on autopilot would have led to bizarre and disappointing results. I downed a smoothie and  coffee (solids a bit too much for my stomach at this point) and sat on the edge of the bed knowing that if I were to lie back for just one second I would be consumed by an immediate and deep sleep. And while this concerned me, it was also very tempting. But given how cross I would be with myself later at missing a parkrun I would just have to endure the exhaustion and nausea and get on with things. Besides, today was Peckham Rye, one of five parkruns left to do in my 47 Parks challenge. I was so close to the finish now. Too close to mess things up.

I somehow got myself organised and out of the house on time and headed down the road to Ealing Broadway where I caught a Central Line train to Bond Street, a Jubilee Line train to Canada Water (no time to visit Decathlon this week, sadly) then an overground train to Honour Oak Park. When I got to Honour Oak Park I was in dire need of a toilet, a situation no doubt brought on by the ‘celebrations’ yesterday and which worsened quickly. I decided to turn in to the nearby park and see if there was a loo there, but it soon became apparent that I was out of luck and fast approaching a situation I could describe as ‘total crisis.’ I then spotted another church-like building at the end of the park (which turned out to be the crematorium). It was simple – if this building didn’t have an accessible toilet I would have to improvise, a word I won’t (for the benefit of anyone reading this) elaborate on. Luckily it did have a toilet, which was actually palatial compared to most public conveniences, and so disaster was averted. Outside I checked my phone to see where I was in relation to the park, and although I could have gotten there fairly quickly from where I was, I ended up retracing my steps and getting to the park the long way round. Still, I had enough time so it wasn’t a problem.

At the bottom of the road I found the entrance to the park and was encouraged to see several other runners about. I quickly found the gathering point near the finish funnel and dropped my bag by the fence. Oddly I forgot to stretch this week, but considering the poor state my mind and body was in, I’m not surprised, and don’t think it would have made much difference anyway – if any week was absolutely not going to be a PB week, it was this one. My Achilles tendonitis seemed a bit better, but it was still stopping me from running as fast as I would like, and because my running had dropped off due to the near-injury, I wasn’t in top shape. Still, the important thing was to just get around, and the slower pace was enjoyable. I joined in the briefing for visitors and first time parkrunners, learning about the various features along the course, of which there are quite a few. Then it was time for the general briefing and we were off. The sky had now brightened considerably and the temperature had risen. All morning I had been thirsty, due to the hangover, but what was strange was that after the run the thirst had gone rather than gotten worse.

The Peckham Rye course begins on wide path in the middle of the open grass area, and soon takes a left turn and heads roughly northwest, continuing ahead at a crossroads and soon bearing left to head toward and around the oval-shaped ornamental garden. It then follows the River Peck and passes the bowling green. There are then two left turns in quick succession before turning around the pond and then following a loop around the Small Acres School, before heading back out onto the open grass on a path toward Colyton Road, turning right and heading back toward the start point to begin lap two.

I started off nice and easy then increased my pace a little, conscious not to get too carried away, bearing in mind I was hungover and delicate as well as nursing a sore ankle. I really enjoyed the many twists and turns of the course, and given the many features of the park, I can see how any route around it would be varied and interesting. It is almost completely flat, and the surface is good. Although there were other people out enjoying the park and the weather it certainly didn’t feel congested and everyone seemed to be having a great time. I’d be more than happy if this was my local.

Position: 56 out of 183

Time: 23 minutes 42 seconds.

I was content to be under twenty-four minutes, and to be honest, trying to get anything faster than that in my condition would have been foolhardy. I really do want to get back to faster times, but trying to overrule or ignore your body is never a good idea. I’ll just have to keep being patient. There are only four more Greater London parkruns to go in my challenge now, just one month (all being well) until I can say I’m done. Lon-done.