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ozblok · 1 year ago

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Alright folks time for another weird ramblings of a loyal grafthead, talking more about Godrick's strength capabilities. This one is me wondering how would he handle lifting up his fellow Demigods and few other bosses, just a silly idea in my head but let's see what I think.

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Grafted Scion- hmm ok starting off with a weird one, would probably be a kinda messy to hold. If it were to be held in arms it would need to ball up kinda, like tuck in it's limbs under it's cloak for easier handling. Now if it were on his back it can just holding onto him without him doing a single thing, maybe it would actually blend in with him like it's apart of him. He needs to hold his spider kids for proper bonding. 7/10

Margit/Morgott- easy carry, able to walk around carrying him without much issue. Easy weither holding like a baby or carrying him on his back. Tail would probably be the the way a bit, probably shouldn't touch it. 8/10

Rennela- with her bubble she's as light as a feather, not much surface area plus it floats so would need to wrap longest arm around it to keep secure. w/o bubble she's also an easy carry, very light and thin so holding her wouldn't be an issue, walking isn't a problem either weither she in arms or on back. Not much issue except for the bubble 7/10

Radahn- alright so this man is a beefcake, towering over Godrick few a couple of feet so this will require some concentration. Being held in arms would be near impossible, would need to carry him upon shoulders. Walking would be a great struggle, it could be possible but it would be very slow. This would be 10 times easier with Radahn's gravity magic to make himself lighter, allowing for easy mobility. But even when made lighter his large size restricts him to being on shoulders. Leonard would approve 5/10

Ranni- very small doll lady, weights just about nothing so easy weither held like baby or on back. Not really any issues, maybe her hat but I doubt it 10/10

Rykard- a very difficult carry, mainly for the fact Rykard is a giant monstrous serpent. The only way Godrick could effectively "carry" Rykard is by holding him by his snake head and slowly dragging his body behind, would be like Godrick making his slither. Very difficult and heavy process 4/10

Fire Giant- alright this is just ridiculous, Godrick has no way of lifting up this skyscraper of a giant. Closest thing to "lifting" this thing is either it's ripped off foot or a limp head. But this isn't gonna happen, impossible 1/10

Malenia- back to an easy carry, a smelly one but easy. So Malenia is about double the size of a Tarnished and is very fast so probably pretty light for Godrick to carry. Weither she's held like a baby or riding on his back doesn't matter, her goddess form may be a bit annoying to hold with the large wings and constant flow of butterflies. But the wings could be wrapped around her and make her cradled in a burrito of her own wings. If prosthetics were removed then she'd be even lighten and easier than before. Just hope she doesn't explode 8/10

Godskin Apostle- Stretchy tall twig, yet another simple hold weither in arms or on back. For fun if stretched Godrick could wear him like a fur scarf. Good snake 10/10

Godskin Noble- Big fat marshmallow, ok this one will require some elbow grease. Should be possible weither being carried by arms or on back but with extra weight and larger size walk will be difficult. Also if the noble inflates handling with be more difficult. Nice tail tho 6.5/10

Maliketh- Scary big dog knight, so for size he's pretty hefty so some strength will be required to hold him. If needed he can also be carried on Godrick's back as well and thanks to his armor it should allow spots for easier grips for supports. Might bite or scratch 8.5/10

Gideon- Hold the know-it-all like an ice cream cone, spoon feed him knowledge so he doesn't judge you. Jokes aside pretty easy hold like Ranni 10/10

Godfrey- alright this Elden Lord is pretty hefty, thanks to his body being pure muscle he's gonna be pretty damn heavy. Godrick would need to focus hard to not disappoint the great Godfrey, it would be difficult yes but not impossible. Godrick would want to impress Godfrey and show his worth in strength, this may motivate him to hold Godfrey for a long period of time before collapsing. Serosh is ghost so he wouldn't get in the way 7/10

Radagon/Marika- now THIS Elden Lord (and Queen) is much smaller and a bit broken so carrying will be no problem. The cracks in the body should give great handling while carrying. Weither it's Radagon or Marika shouldn't matter tho he would probably be more careful with Marika. Elden Ring is pretty to look at 9/10

Elden Beast- Finally God, hmmm pretty large being so picking up would be extremely difficult. So maybe Godrick can drag it by it's head or it's tail wrapped around him like a rope. Would look ridiculous but he could probably drag God, thought it would take a bit unless the Elden Beast is somehow light as a feather. Slug may be slippery 5.5/10

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This took a bit to think up but I'd say I'm happy with this very very random and weird list of Godrick carrying his family. I'll see what other weird lists I can come up with in the future, hope y'all enjoyed this one :>

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evolutionsvoid · 2 years ago

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The Galdrhveli isn't the only strangely magical creature that is found up in those arctic oceans. From the tales and legends, it seems the Helkkja have been quite busy on their frozen islands. All sorts of mentions of weird animals and beasts altered by their magic, and crafted into something new. It seems like this is their method of gaining guards, laborers and other vital workers for their secret communities. Obviously these freezing lands don't offer a lot of species that could be easily domesticated or used, so the witches just made some for themselves. It is fascinating to hear these tales, and see drawings of the strange creatures. Learning about this certainly got me excited, as a whole new slew of species to study! Problem is, they are only found in the lands of the Helkkja, and they don't exactly accept visitors. With this, no one really has any access to these magic born animals, and thus we know very little about them. But I still want to pass on the knowledge of their existence, so I guess we are writing an entry about them regardless!

While I had heard a lot about the Galdrhveli, there was another species of theirs that often got brought up alongside them. The Staveother is a beast that walks those frozen isles, and shares a notable similarity with that magic infused whale. This species looks and sounds to be mammalian, with thick fur and a notably ungulate frame. Beneath that woolly coat appears to be thick leathery skin, no doubt bolstered by layers of fat. Their anatomy is obviously like that of a rhino's, but alterations from the witches have changed them into something more. A single look at their horn will clue you in on their biggest change, as it has been replaced by a wand-like structure. It seems these magic growths come in all different shapes and sizes, at least judging from the variety of drawings I have seen. It doesn't seem to be the only wand either, as some art has shown them with similar structures jutting from their mouths like tusks. No doubt used for smaller spells or what not. I will note the significant bulge on the neck, like an overdeveloped muscle. I suspect that it acts like the Splenius magus that humans possess, either grown from a lesser muscle or perhaps artificially grafted to this species. Perhaps this is what fuels their wand growths, and lets them cast spells to either help their masters or fight foes. I can't imagine they use it much for battle though, because it is near impossible for invaders to even set foot on the island before they are destroyed by the guard whales. Of what they eat, I have to imagine it is a herbivorous diet, grazing on what little plants grow in that arctic wasteland. Like the rumors of the Galdrhveli, I could see the Helkkja feeding the Staveothers special herbs and concoctions to further power their magical abilities. Of what they do with this magic, I don't really know. The tales say that this species is used as a beast of burden, trained to be mounts, or to....pull things or....well, whatever duties they are given. They don't really talk too much on those details. Honestly, not much is said about the Staveothers outside of the fact that they exist, can use magic and are used by the Helkkja. A real shame, because I absolutely want to know more! Why do legends always prattle on about monsters being scary and evil, or how powerful a creature is before a hero slays it, while completely ignoring all the juicy details everyone really wants to hear?! What do they eat? Where do they sleep? What part do they play in the local food chain? I couldn't care less about how the evil dragon Grimgagrackle-whatever has fire breath hotter than the pits of hell, I want to know how it plays into the rest of the ecosystem! Surely its eating habits impact local herbivore populations, and available food for other predators. Where does it make its nest, as that has to be a ripe place for scavengers and parasites! And don't get me started on the possibilities that come from that beast's dung! A creature that big has to leave some sizable droppings, which no doubt is a nutritious feast for plants, fungi and coprophages! Why don't people write about that?! I swear, I have to do everything myself around here! Right, Staveothers! Get back on track, Chlora!

Since they live on a secret island guarded by vicious whales, I cannot find much more on this species. Dang it, I get writing another paragraph and now just realize I got nothing left! Hold on, there has to be something else to mention. Ah, the Staveothers have been mentioned of being an inspiration for the unicorn-like constructs that certain mages have built! You know those metallic horned horse things? Ones used by mages to hunt down witches and keep the peace? Yeah, folks say that their design was based on this species, though mages will say it is the other way around. Hard to really say who came up with it first, as it is a classic case of each side accusing the other of copying. I just hope that the Staveothers are a lot more calm and peaceful then those constructs. Those metal ponies sure get murderous when they catch a whiff of witch in the air. Chlora Myron Dryad Natural Historian Great, now we are writing entries for animals you have never seen, heard or even know anything about. Wonderful, just wonderful. You're doing this to me on purpose, aren't you? - Eucella -

---------------------------------------------- “Staveother”

If narwhals get wand horns, then so should someone else! Spread the love!

#monster #creature #rhino #art #drawing

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the-firebird69 · 6 days ago

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We're sick of it. He waited the fat mooch bitch said no it's trump trying to get him out. And his idiots. F them and budget in or the resort f him ok

We see it. Terry c says your there will mess w me his are daft.

You know same issue we want them to run in need it and the ones having them do it are mean as shit.

We hv had it with them others will see the bitch near the clone a trumpster loser.

Thor Freya

OBVIOUSLY I DONT CARE IF YOUR AT THE WALL FAT PORKERS YOU ALWAYS DIE THERE. SHIPS SELDOM USED. YOUR NOT US NOT FORGIENERS NOT EMPIRE OR EVEN OSUEDO EMPIRE. SIT BACK SHUT THE FUCK UP GET READY FOR ALL YOUR PAIN TO END SHITHEADS. PSUEDO EMPIRE WILL DEPLOY HUGE DEATH STARS VAPORIZE YOUR FOREARD FORCES AND SEVERAL HUMINGOUS WAVES WITH EASE. THE EMPIRE WILL FIRE OVER THIER SHOULDER FOR A FEW MORE. WATCH AS YOU CONSUME YOUR LAST STAY THE PSUEDO EMPIRE ITSELF TAKE DHIPS ETC. WE SHALL TOO.

THE EMPIRE WILL ROAST THE LAST FEW WAVES WITH FORGIENERS. ALL OF WHICH WILL STOP YOU IN THE CITIES.

All for some idiot who thinks Tommy f grafts for ed by the empire I mean gross ok listen to your own people not this 300 year old piece of junk.

Zues me too I say it too Hera

BEHIND SATURN JUPITER MARS ARE HUGE EMPIRE FLEETS WE ARE THERE FORGIENERS SO WE DO GET YA OK

Thor Freya

It's going to e disgusting

Zues

Oh no ok head of ratheon West. Big shot Cohen is. I ask ok

David bammens

If course he will say the macs etc are huge and stop you and such you've been hearing it don't see shit

Lol your not supposed to

Zues

Look up smile at the aliens you run as they incinerat you my husband sent to me

Hera

Do you hv observers there behind Jupiter. Jason is my friend. He's the boy King. Check it to be sure why not Jason says we examine the eye for them yes. Why not.

Jason says ads no we can't see there.

It's called dark areas. Those are dark to morlok ok. Should raise A flag or two

But hey. It shall remain so. Ok. As usual you morlok fight establishment even mine but your harmful yes. The establishment will not allow probes. Send them manned if there is nothing there you big mouthed cowards

Zues

Whoah cool idea. If not ok good

Hera

We approve this message to go out

We fix these asshole nurses pull them now are after our don

Olympus

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00towns · 4 months ago

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plant matter, part 1: a mid-season update

Veggie garden

This year, I planted two cultivars of tomatoes, but the names are all in Japanese, so I don’t actually have a really good idea of what they are. If it helps, they are アイコ and 甘玉ミニトマト (which just means sweet round mini tomato). I bought them as grafted starts from the garden center near Matsumoto for about ¥250 apiece. A steal!

I live in an apartment and knew I was going to be planting in containers, but I was still a little underprepared for some aspects of this project. The full sun of May turned out to be too strong, and the tall vines now all have a naked midsection from when I had to prune off some sunburnt leaves from their day at the beach. Some strong winds in early June also knocked the pots over a few times. Now, they’re strung up under the bike port to protect from both the sun and the wind. My sometimes kind, sometimes overbearing downstairs neighbor helped me trellis them to the roof. Because of the weird, intermittent sun under the bike port, they’ve grown kind of out of hand shape-wise but are still producing well.

I also have two types of bell peppers , which are are happy in the sun and still live there. The smaller of the two is producing really well, the bigger has yet to show any fruit but has lots of flowers. Bell peppers can be eaten at any point but the sweet reds and oranges characteristic of summertime take their time, so it’ll be a while until I’m eating anything from there.

The growing season in Japan is really, really long; I was buying starts in March and had them planted by April; I’ll probably be harvesting well into October if the temperatures from last year keep up and the late rainy season is any hint. Given how abundant my current setup already feels, I’m looking forward to seeing the creativity my small space will require to keep everything supported and staked. I’m also looking forward to gifting the fruits of my labor to my neighbors, with whom my terrible, terrible garden has been a great starter of enthusiastic yet clumsy Japanese conversation practice.

Next year, I’d like to grow using grow bags instead of containers to maximize size and storage in the off season, and also venture into early season vegetables to hopefully get another harvest out of the long growing period. My neighbor across the street is already on her second crop of the year on the same garden plot, producing fat gourds after a full harvest of snow peas and pea shoots. Bell peppers are also a little slow to produce for my impatience, so I’ll probably also start shishitos to hold over my itchy hands.

Anything can be a houseplant if you try hard enough

Monstera deliciosa and monstera adansonii

I bought my deliciosa for ¥1200 at the grocery store a few weeks after I arrived in Mie, and did nothing to take care of it for the remainder of that growing season as settling in became overwhelming. By the time the long winter dormancy passed, I was realizing that I had wasted several good months of growing and set about taking it seriously. I repotted, fertilized, browsed /r/houseplants, and watched with absolute delight as she pushed out three new leaves in just a few weeks living on my balcony before realizing I needed to repot again to set the sideways-growing stem upright. At time of writing, success of this major transplant is to be determined; the smaller plant is pushing out a pretty pitiful leaf (that I also ripped while staking), but there's no movement on the larger plant. I'm so happy with how this plant has grown.

The adansonii was a recent purchase that came from the same store as the deliciosa. In Virginia, I have a baby adansonii from L, but hadn’t even realized they were the same plant because the leaves on this thing are colossal. I repotted immediately after I brought him home because he was pretty crispy, and I hate the potting mix that my local grocery store uses. Just a few weeks later she’s pushing out big holey leaves.

2. Phalaenopsis, dendrobium, and cattleya orchids

I call these plants rescues, but honestly they probably could have used rescuing from my care at some point. I got the phals for free from the opening of an Italian restaurant downtown, where they otherwise would have gone in the trash. I took them home on the bus, the enormous white flowers hitting me in the face every time we went over a bump. I enjoyed several weeks of the colossal blooms, then cut the spikes back and repotted for the winter dormancy, where I lost several large leaves and was in dire straits for a while. This growing season, I’ve been rewarded with a facehugger amount of fat green roots and a few new leaves, although the period of neglect has left the mature ones pretty pitiful looking. My phals are overgrown, battered, and won’t be winning any contests but I’m holding out hope for some flowers this year. I imagine this is what adopting a retired racing dog is like.

I bought the dendrobiums in bloom from the grocery store. They dropped their flowers and almost all their leaves immediately and looked really fucking terrible. They still kind of do, but I split the plants into three to be more manageable and the new canes are doing better than they were crowded in the same pot. I thought the window hanging might have the best light, but the old canes are kind of long and unwieldy. I don’t think I can cut them because they hold a lot of water, which will help with self-regulation if I travel for a long time, but I hope they know that they hate me and I hate them.

I found this cattleya for Y500 at the grocery store! It also dropped its blooms when I brought it home (are we sensing a theme yet), but I came home from Kyoto last weekend to a new pseudobulb and a renewed hope for blooms this year.

3. Honorable mentions

Ikebana club at school, where I found not just one but two caterpillars in my set of flowers. I absolutely don’t have the touch for this, but it’s very fun. Bonus harvest from a run.

Bucket orchid lives in a blue plastic bucket on the ground in the break room at school, and has for almost three months now. It hasn’t been moved since that time, and has doubled in size. On the last day of exams, I checked and it has a spike. Bonus money tree that lives on my desk.

Bankoyaki is a specialty type of pottery local to my city! There was a fair a few weeks ago, and I picked up some plant pots, dishes, and a nabe pot. If all goes according to plan, these will come home with me to America to feed my ongoing houseplant habit there too.

Camellia, plum, cherry, azalea, hydrangea

The flowering season stretches long in the spring. Cherry blossoms are the most famous, but in March, camellia are king. Their fat bulbs are used to make an oil I use in my hair, and they litter red, white, and pink petals. I visited Tsubaki Grand Shrine with Matthew on the tail end of camellia and the start of cherry blossom, an assault on the senses.

The earliest of the ridiculously pink trees are not actually cherry blossoms but plum, which have a similar appearance but are darker pink with rounded petals. A large orchard in walking distance of my house called 梅林 was where I planned on spotting some of these, but the blossoms were pretty much immediately obliterated by some heavy rain during their peak bloom. A few weeks later, I was enjoying light pink cherry blossoms anyways, and learning more about the difference between the two. My neighborhood is called Sakura, and the namesake turned out.

I wasn’t lucky enough to spot any wisteria this year, but I have a good sense of what they were supposed to look like thanks to a few holdouts at school on the outdoor trellises. These huge purple trees are on my must-see list for next year. Instead, I enjoyed azaleas in my neighborhood, which grow in vivid reds and pinks out of impossible-looking spaces in rock walls and garden pavers.

Last, powered by the late rainy season, is hydrangeas. It’s been lovely to go to spots in Sakura that I discovered were the best viewing places for cherry blossoms and to find that the hydrangeas and magnolias in those same places have exploded into bloom. Nearer to Sakura Station, I saw several types that I had never seen before, as well as a snowball variety that are cartoonishly cute. At the end of June, C and I went to Uji to visit Mimuroto-ji, known for its sprawling hydrangea and lotus gardens.

Fibrous eating

A heavy emphasis on seasonal foods follows through to the availability of certain vegetables during hyperspecific times of the year. At time of writing, I’m finally finding cauliflower, zucchini, and flat beans in the stores despite my previous resignation that I would never really be eating them while living here. I’m not sure how long this will last, but I’ll make the most of this greenery before I have to go back to mushrooms and kabocha squash in the winter, although shiitakes are so stupidly cheap all the time I can’t imagine not eating them whenever I get the chance.

Through the winter, I enjoyed many different types of citrus, including a fat, wide type of orange called sunfruit that I turned into a syrup, and haruka, which look exactly like lemons and taste exactly like lemonade. I think they’re trademarked, so I wasn’t able to get any shoots out of the seeds, but I do have a small army of sprouts from another cultivar called seminoles. In only seven to twelve years, I’ll have free fruit!

Around my neighborhood, a medley of fruit smells emanate from the mostly unattended fruit trees everywhere. Right now, kumquat trees are dropping fruit left and right, which I can pick up off the ground relatively undamaged. I come back from my evening walks with pockets full of dropped fruit and stained fingers from picking ripe wild mulberries. Also growing wild are kiwi, plum, and persimmon trees, which will all come into season slowly over the course of the year.

Soon, we’ll get the expensive dark-skinned melons that Japan is notorious for, but right now I’m also enjoying tiny muscat grapes that have the same texture as popping boba, sweet yellow cherries, and thin-skinned white peaches, all exorbitantly priced.

Thank you, plant matter!

ref:

When Sartre Talked to Crabs, It Was Mescaline https://www.nytimes.com/2009/11/15/weekinreview/15grist.html

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Japanese_aesthetics

and of course, happy 29th to my rose <3

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carloswilson0 · 7 months ago

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Aesthetic Solutions Nearby: Exploring Face Fillers Near Me

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eazy-group · 1 year ago

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11 Vegan Shampoos That Don't Skimp on Quality

New Post has been published on https://eazybeauty.net/11-vegan-shampoos-that-dont-skimp-on-quality/

11 Vegan Shampoos That Don't Skimp on Quality

Hair

Farm-to-table vegan shampoo options.

By Allie Hogan, Associate Beauty Editor · Jul 21, 2023

Coco & Eve/Dae

There are so many labels to look for on personal care products these days. We’ve recently become accustomed to seeing sulfate-free and Leaping Bunny labels on hair products. Now language from our diets is creeping into our hair care. Gluten-free and vegan are some of the labels we’ve noticed in the hair-care aisle and in our own showers recently. Whether you’re trying to make your shampoo match your snacks, or you just want super clean hair products, these are the vegan shampoos that are actually worthwhile.

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3 / 11

Alo Shine Shampoo ($24)

A personal favorite, I traveled across the country with this shampoo and it helped me handle different water types. It’s also formulated for gym-goers as it keeps sweat-distressed strands in mind.

4 / 11

Coco & Eve Hydrating Shampoo ($25)

This shampoo douses hair with an impressive amount of moisture with a powerblend of hyaluronic acid called ResistHyal Technology. The scent of coconut and fig will turn your shower into your own personal piece of paradise.

5 / 11

Bb Seaweed Shampoo ($36)

This recently launched vegan shampoo, an evolution of an older formula, uses the power of the sea to give you fresh, bouncy hair. The formula features royal sugar kelp, pacific sea kelp and green microalgae.

6 / 11

Ceremonia Guava Protect & Repair Shampoo ($20)

Forget harsh chemicals and animal byproducts—this formula uses guava and aloe vera to help repair and hydrate hair. It’s especially perfect for the summer as it protects from future damage and color fade from chlorine, salt water, UV and color treatments.

7 / 11

R+Co Television Perfect Hair Shampoo ($34)

Get TV anchor–ready hair without compromising on clean ingredients. The body, shine and strength of hair are so good after using this shampoo, you might even say it’s “perfect.”

9 / 11

EVOLVh UltraShine Moisture Shampoo ($26)

This gentle shampoo is popular among those with gray hair, but it’s great for all hair types. It helps nutrients seep into strands for a boost of silky shine and strength.

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dramitkrchoudhary07 · 3 months ago

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Who Is the Ideal Candidate for Fat Grafting?

Fat grafting, or fat transfer, is an innovative and popular cosmetic procedure that uses a person’s own body fat to enhance or restore volume in areas like the face, breasts, buttocks, or hands. Since it involves using the body’s natural fat, it's considered a more natural alternative to synthetic fillers or implants. But is this procedure right for everyone? Let's explore who makes an ideal candidate for fat grafting.

Overall Good Health

The ideal candidate for fat grafting is one who has good overall health, such as no major surgeries, and no chronic disorders that can affect treatment outcomes. Fat grafting is a surgical procedure, whether it involves liposuction or injection of fat cells.

If you have no health problems such as heart disease, blood disorders, or uncontrolled diabetes that may interfere with surgical outcomes, you may be considered a good candidate. Non-smokers have a higher chance of better outcomes because tobacco smoke has chemicals that affect recovery and the survival of the newly grafted fat cells.

Sufficient Fat Supply

One of the primary needs is you must have enough fat in your body required for fat grafting. Your cosmetic surgeon will take fats from one part of your body to harvest them for another body part where you want a plump, fuller-looking texture.

Doctors take fat from areas in the body where fat is abundant, such as the abdomen, thighs, or flanks. If you have low body fat or a very lean physique, you might not be a good candidate for fat transfers.

Desire for Natural Improvements

Fat grafting is ideal for those who want subtle, natural-looking skin rather than dramatic changes. This procedure serves those looking for the fullness of their face, breasts, lips, hands, neck, cheek, and buttocks.

This gives better outcomes since no synthetic materials are used. Plus, the risk of allergic reactions or rejection is low because your own body fat is grafted. You might consult the best cosmetic surgeon in Siliguri for fat grafting.

Realistic Expectations

Having realistic expectations keeps you from illusion because fat grafting is a surgery. And, every cosmetic surgery has risks. Not all of the grafted fat can survive. See a reputed cosmetic surgeon for fat grafting in Siliguri.

About 60-80% of the fat cells may survive, while the rest is absorbed by your body. The final outcome may take several months or more than expected. It depends on how effectively you follow medical advice, go for routine checkups, and maintain your lifestyle.

Skin Elasticity

Good skin elasticity helps transferred fat to adjust with your skin well and these fats go back to a natural shape fast. However, poor elasticity can cause problems with this adjustment. Consult the best cosmetic surgeon in Siliguri for fat grafting.

To get the best possible results from fat grafting, you need a long-term commitment to the recovery process. You might experience mild or temporary swelling, bruising, and discomfort in both the donor and recipient sites after fat transfers for a few weeks. Take medicines and follow expert advice to manage discomfort after fat grafting.

Before you go for the fat grafting procedure, consult a board-certified to know about its risks, benefits, and particularly your chance of getting the best outcomes. Visit the most trued fat grafting clinic in Siliguri.

#fat grafting near me #fat grafting surgery

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cellmyx · 2 years ago

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dadsbongos · 4 years ago

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and another continuation of hajime x antag reader pls? more scenarios of them slowly becoming friends

realized last night that this series has just been the enemies to friends trope and that was a lot to take in

Request for: Hajime Hinata Warnings: self-harm (hair-pulling) like right off the bat, more skin graft stuff but it’s just scars and stitches and they’re barely mentioned ~~~

“God- fuck- dammit…” (Y/n) groaned, tugging at a lock of hair in the midst of her frustration until a hand came to hers, removing it from her hair and settling it at her side.

“Hey, we talked about that,” Hajime stepped forward to inspect the damage of the dropped plate, “Damn, I’ll get the broom. Get some shoes on or something so you don’t get shards in your feet.”

Nodding glumly, (Y/n) moved to get on her shoes and by the time she returned, Hajime was already sweeping up her mess. Her mistake. Because, of course, he was. He was Izuru Kamukura. He was incredible and (Y/n), as she had caught Mikan murmuring to Hajime the other night, was sick. Her world had already fallen into unfamiliarity, but it was nice that Hajime didn’t show any annoyance in how she latched onto him.

That was good, right?

Or maybe he still hated her and just didn’t say anything. That was probably closer to the truth. Who would want to be friends with someone like her? Or more specifically, with her at all?

“Alright, that’s probably good, we should tell the others just in case,” Hajime dumped out the shattered remnants of the plate before clicking the dustpan back into place on the broomstick.

Shaking her head, (Y/n) kept her gaze on her feet, lips pursed, “I’m sorry…”

Hearing those two words from her mouth was new. She’d never really apologized for anything. It was just generally accepted that eventually, she would say it once she felt well enough to do so.

But now, now was not that time. She wasn’t anywhere near ready. Just the other day she almost cried when Fuyuhiko and Sonia saw her trip in the hallway. She still wasn’t used to the idea of people not hating her for making mistakes.

“They hate me… they think they’re better than me…” her ramblings were manic when she made the slightest mistake, “I’m a failure… I’m a failure…”

It hurt to watch her like this. Thinking she was absolute scum for something as simple as stuttering her words.

“It’s alright, it was an accident,” he shook his head, turning her around by the shoulder and walking with her towards the den, “Nobody’s going to hate you for an accident.”

“How can you be sure?”

“I make mistakes all the time, nobody hates me.”

“But you’re Izuru Kamukura, you don’t make mistakes…”

“I’m just Hajime Hinata. A reserve course student.”

“They all hate me…”

“None of them hate you. They forgive you. We all have.”

“I haven’t even apologized yet…”

“You can when you’re ready, which doesn't have to be now if you changed your mind.”

Shaking her head, (Y/n) took Hajime’s hand in hers, shaking from the full force of her nerves, “No… I still want to do it…”

“You’re sure?” he took the doorknob to the kitchen in his hand, “I’ll be right there.”

“I’m sure.”

With no more moments to spare, Hajime pushed the door open and walked in with (Y/n). Her fingers scrambled for the bandage covering her thigh as eyes flitted to her figure briefly, she looked down before clearing her throat to catch her peers’ attention.

Everyone in the room turned to her and Hajime, the boy grinned with a small pat on (Y/n)’s back, “This one wants to say something.”

“I…” her throat went dry and her legs began to shake, “I’m sorry. For everything. I was awful to all of you in the Neoworld Program and I shouldn’t have been. I want to make it up to you all… from the bottom of my heart,” her eyes watered, hot shame and guilt whittling at her heart, “I’m so sorry.”

The first person to step up was Mikan, in an oddly confident manner, she placed her shaky hands on (Y/n)’s shoulders before pulling her into a tight hug. She was cold and smelled like lavender and vanilla. Her voice shyly peeked out in the midst of their embrace, “We don’t hold it against you…”

A dam breaking was quite disastrous.

Letting out all the sorrowed wails you’d ever held back since waking from a technical coma was therapeutic.

She held Mikan as she cried, pulling the nurse closer as Sonia and Ibuki stepped up as well before joining the hug. Hiyoko was the last hold out of the class before stumbling her way into the group hug with fat tears dripping from her reddened cheeks.

Hajime stood off to the side with a smaller, more serene smile on his face. He watched as everyone hugged and he watched as they pulled back. As Nekomaru clapped (Y/n)’s back and lifted her up and onto his shoulders. As Mahiru took pictures of the crowd for memories. As Fuyuhiko and Akane merely nodded along, not wanting to express how deeply they felt for the girl.

More importantly, he watched as (Y/n) grew comfortable in her own skin again. Literally and metaphorically. He was glad she apologized, it was a step in the right direction.

And he knew he’d help her take those steps all over again when Nagito woke up and when they left the island and when they officially joined the Future Foundation.

“Hajime! Hajime!”

“Hmm?”

“Look!”

He lifted his head from the book, eyebrows lifting at the sight before him. He closed the book and placed it to the side before standing and coming in front of the girl, he smiled, “Mikan took the stitches out, huh?”

(Y/n) nodded, gently bringing her fingers over the scarred patches on her face, “Can you notice?”

“Just from the scars,” he shrugged before patting her shoulder, “But I’m certain those will heal up nicely soon. Maybe some scarring but you probably won’t be able to tell anything major happened by the time they’ve healed.”

Her eyes widened, “You think so?”

“I do, you should ask Mikan about it, though,” he moved to sit back down and return to his book, “Have you eaten yet?”

“Yeah.”

“Have you?”

She huffed, turning around towards the kitchen, “Jackass. I’ll be fine without a little breakfast for the day.”

“You’d be complaining in an hour and you know it!”

“I don’t know, man, all I can remember is having to climb over some Bob wire…”

All heads, even those who weren’t originally listening, snapped over to Kazuichi instantaneously after the words flew from his mouth.

“Did…” Hajime narrowed his eyes at the mechanic, “did you just say Bob wire? As in Robert? You think it’s called Robert wire?”

“I mean…” Kazuichi shrugged, “yeah? What else would it be called?”

Scoffing, the brunette put down his glass, “Barb wire.”

“As in- “ (Y/n)’s brows furrowed, “As in Barbara wire?”

“Duh, what else would it be?”

“Barbed!” (Y/n) shouted at the boys, “Barbed wire! It has barbs!”

“Robert wire and Barbara wire,” Fuyuhiko mumbled, taking a sip of his coffee, “Fucking idiots.”

“Oh my God,” Hajime put his head in his hands, embarrassment washing over his body, “I can’t believe I just said Barbara wire.”

“To be fair, you also didn’t know what an octagon was…”

“I remember, (Y/n)!”

He also remembered a time where this conversation wouldn’t have been possible - and he’s glad that time no longer exists.

He’s glad (Y/n), Ultimate Copycat - Remnant of Despair - Junko’s Puppet, became his friend.

#sdr2 x reader #hajime hinata x reader #anon chatter :)#antag reader :) antag reader is the best #antag reader

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abitofafatass · 3 years ago

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11-21-14 Grif and the Director ( @churchofinvention)

If there was ever a night where drinking sounded like a decent solution.

Is the old man getting tired?

I’m going to take the next blunt object I find and beat you over the head with it.

I’m so fucking terrified. What’s it gonna be, your walker?

Ye— what? No! I don’t have a walker! Son, how the hell old do you suppose I am?

I dont know. Fucking old enough that it’d be gross to bang.

Like you’e any prize catch yourself. You wanna talk ‘gross to bang’? Where do I begin with you.

Hey, chicks dig Native Hawaiian dudes, alright? At least I’m not fucking old.

Attractive Native Hawaiian ‘dudes’. And maybe you aren’t, but if you have about… a week to spare, I could tell you all the other things that you are.

Fat? A Frankenstein abomination with all these skin grafts? Slobby? Really, you wouldnt have anything new to add to the table.

I was doing it a little more… personality based than that, but if that’s what you want to go with, sure.

Again, the other old guy kind of beat you to all that. Dont you old people trade notes?

I missed the last senior meeting, I had to go to the doctor’s office and you have no idea how long that takes. What the hell’s the matter with you? I don’t even know who this other old guy is. And I don’t trade notes with anybody about anything.

So you admit you’re an old fart. HA! Its probably better you dont meet Sarge, now that I think about it. I don’t need two old men who hate me. Especially because I basically live with one.

[ambiguous grunt in response]

You’ve already got two old men who hate you, you’re saying it like we don’t yet. And that’s just simply not true. At least on my end. Do you really not want me to meet this man?

I dont think I could take two Southern accents yelling at me at once. Sorry, but I’ll have to pass on you meeting my technically superior officer

Sounds like I’ve got some place to be for a change. Cute as it is that you think your disapproval is going to stop this, it’s also equal parts wrong. I think I’ll be dropping by to have a chat with your superior in the near future.

Fuck. Me. Thats it, I’m defecting. There’s no way that I’m putting up with constant death threats from two old assholes.

You’re not my type. I don’t think so. You’re going to put up with it whether you want to or not. There isn’t going to be any defecting. Deal with it.

Gross. Who’s going to stop me? I wasnt even a real soldier anyways. I’m a simulation trooper for some asshole’s project.

You’re the one who said it. Yes, I’m well aware of that fact. And I’m going to have to guess that the asshole running the project is going to stop you. That’s just a guess though. You never know.

Nah, I heard that guy was a dick. I cant imagine that he’d care about one fucker who decided he didnt want to play games. Though I do have to ask why there was a one man draft, and why the hell I was picked

In light of recent developments, I’m almost positive that he would. Trust me on that one. I haven’t the slightest idea. A lazy piece of work like you of all people. Somebody should look into that.

Yeah, right, like either of those things are going to happen. Christ, I want to go home. I guess an old fart like you just has a retirement home to look forward to. Sucks. All those shitty oatmeal raisin cookies to look forward to.

I refuse to live in a retirement home ever, even if my life depended on it. Retirement homes are awful and boring, I wouldn’t know what to do with myself. Oatm— …. I despise you.

I suppose they might have Oatmeal Craisin if you bitch at them enough about it. Supposedly thats better.

Craisins are almost as bad as raisins. That’s not any better at all.

Well, old farts have to gum their food, and dont have tastebuds so its not like you’ll know the difference.

How many older people do you actually know?

There’s you. And Sarge. And that fucking terrifying lunchlady. …. Thats about it. Who the fuck wants to be around old people?

Nobody, I suppose. You’ve got me there.

Well… You dont have to sound so despondent about it. You always have other old people to hang out with.

Thank you, that actually makes me feel so much better. At least I have other old people. Thank god.

….. That sounded an awful lot like sarcasm. Look dude, you cant ask someone half your age if he knows a lot of ancient fucks, ok? Especially when I’ve been in the army for over a decade with other people half your age.

I was trying to figure out where you got your information from. I couldn’t give less of a damn how many older people you know. That’s the least of my concerns right now.

“Concerns”? Gramps, take a chill pill, I’m probably the farthest thing that you should be concerned about.

You are. Don’t you worry about that.

Oh good. I’m tired of people coming after me. Serously, this defecting thing is starting to sound really good… I could be home drinking a tasty beer, and doing nothing.

#doctahleonardchurch #churchofinvention #archival footage

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snarkythewoecrow · 4 years ago

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Silver Tipped Wings and Black Feathers

By: Snarkymuch

Part 13 of the Broken Wing Verse.

Summary: Peter sees Steve and Bucky while patrolling, and he comes back to talk to them the next day as Peter. Peter realizes they all have more in common than he originally thought.

Read on AO3

Peter’s senior year was going well, and he’d been dividing his time between studying at home and going to the lake house to hang out with Tony, Pepper, and Morgan. It hadn’t left much time for Spider-Man, so this weekend Peter planned to stay in the city and do some good, swinging around and helping the little guy. It would be nice to get back to his roots.

Big fat snowflakes fell lazily from the overcast sky, melting on the pavement as soon as they hit. It was still early winter, not even Christmas yet, so the snow wasn’t likely to stick. It was chilly, though, and Peter had to turn on the heater in his suit, as the cold air seeped through the thin fabric.

“Karen, is there anything else going on since I’m here?”

He was sitting on a fire escape in Brooklyn, feet swinging back and forth, having left his usual patrol area when Karen had said police were engaged in a standoff at a bodega nearby. Thankfully, once Peter had arrived, he was able to sneak in the back and web up the criminals. It was all over in a matter of minutes, and the police even thanked him for the help. He still expected people to shy away from him since the world knew Spider-man was a raven, but it was always nice when people proved him wrong.

“There’s nothing on the police bands, but that doesn’t mean you couldn’t find someone to help.”

“Thanks, Karen. I take a swing through the streets and see what I can find. Maybe I can stop a grand theft bicycle.”

“Excellent plan, Peter.” Karen’s voice almost sounded teasing. “Maybe this time you can do it without getting tangled in your webs.”

“Haha. I see Mr. Stark didn’t skimp on the sass.”

Peter grabbed the railing and pulled himself to his feet, then dove from the platform, shooting out a web just in time to swing down to the street, skimming over the tops of cars. Even with the snow, it was busy. New York always was. It wasn’t like the quiet upstate town Tony had moved to.

Peter made his way to Brooklyn Heights, nearly falling when he saw the familiar face of Steve Rogers walking down one of the brownstones' steps. At his side was someone Peter had only met once before, during the airport battle. The Winter Soldier. His golden, metal-tipped wings and were unmistakable. Just the sight of them sent a shiver down Peter’s spine. They were dangerous. Peter knew the man could use them as a weapon, sharp metal cutting through the air when he spun, ready to slice flesh. Between his altered wings and his metal arm, the Winter Soldier was not to be underestimated. He could do a lot of damage.

But then, as Peter stopped on the edge of a building to watch the pair, he didn’t look dangerous at all. His shoulders were up, and his head ducked. His hair fell around his face like a shield. Steve kept a hand on his back, shielding him from the outside world as they walked. Peter followed on the rooftops, watching them closely. He still wasn’t sure what they were doing living in Brooklyn. For some reason, Peter thought they would be somewhere more official. It seemed strange to see them so domestic.

Peter followed the pair all the way to Prospect Park, and in that time, he watched how people shied away from them and stared at the Winter Soldier’s deadly wings. His trial had been on the news; his crimes had been laid bare for the world to judge. His wings were recognizable, even if his face wasn’t. Due to the metal tips that had been grafted on, it was said he couldn’t hide his wings. Peter felt a pang of sympathy. That couldn’t be easy.

Peter was a curious creature, something May always said would get him in trouble, and he found himself planning out a visit to see Steve and the Winter Soldier in his head. He could make it work. Maybe he could linger on the street and casually bump into them. Steve would remember him, wouldn’t he?

He wasn’t even sure why he wanted to meet them. Perhaps it was how people stared at the Winter Soldier that made Peter want to reach out. He knew a thing or two about people looking at you in fear.

Leaving them to stroll the park, Peter headed back towards Queens and thought up a plan.

The next day, Peter still didn’t have a plan, but when did that ever stop him? He took a quick shower and threw on some clothes, going to the kitchen to grab a snack before he left. May was in the kitchen, sipping her coffee as she looked at her phone.

Her eyes lifted from the screen when he walked in. “Hey, kiddo, you’re up and dressed early. Heading anywhere special?”

Peter opened the cupboard, grabbing the box of pop-tarts and taking a package out. He opened it with his teeth, tossing the wrapper and taking a bite. He answered about the mouthful of pastry. “Not really. Well, kinda. I’m not sure.”

“That’s very… vague, and that’s never a good thing with you. Does this have anything to do with Spider-man?”

Peter swallowed, wiping the crumbs off his mouth with the back of his hand. “Uh, no? I guess not really.”

“Peter, what’s going on? The last time I saw you dressed and willingly leaving your room before noon on a Sunday, you called me from jail later that day.”

“That’s not fair. I wasn’t arrested, not really. It was just a little light protesting anyway.”

May took a sip of her coffee, raising her brows. Setting her cup back on the table, she curled her hands around the mug and leveled her gaze on him.

Peter sighed. “It’s nothing bad, but I guess it might not be well thought out?”

“Is that a question?”

Peter scrunched his nose. “I’m going to Brooklyn to see Captain America and the Winter Soldier.”

May’s eyes went wide. “Well, that’s something, but I got to ask Peter. You told me what Mr. Perfect said about your wings last time you met, and I can’t say I want you around him.”

“We worked it out, mostly. And it’s not really him I want to see. It’s Bucky, well, the Winter Soldier. You know, I don’t really know what to call him?”

May sighed, shaking her head. “I’m sure Mr. Barnes would be fine, It’s always nice to be polite, but I got to know why you are meeting them. Do they know you’re coming?”

Peter frowned, nibbling on his pop tart. “Eh, not really. I just saw them yesterday when I was patrolling, and Mr. Barnes looked so sad. People avoided him, and I just… I know what that’s like. He looked like he could use a friend.”

“It’s not your job to fix everyone.”

“I know, but I can’t just pretend I didn’t see them. I want to say hi.”

“Mr. Stark might not like this plan of yours.”

Peter winced. “Yeah, I know. That’s why I’m not telling him.”

“Okay, Peter, but promise me you’ll be careful. I don’t want to see you hurt.”

With a loose plan to go loiter around where Steve and Bucky were living, Peter headed to Brooklyn. Since he wasn’t in his suit, it took him a little longer, having to take the crowded subway.

He made his way to the posh neighborhood, standing on the corner near Steve’s building, watching. He didn’t have to wait too long. Across the street, walking toward the brownstone, was Steve, canvas grocery bags in his hands. He jaywalked across the street, and Peter kicked himself into action. He jogged down the sidewalk to intercept him.

Steve’s sharp eyes caught Peter quickly, his brow furrowing as he recognized him. Then he smiled, nodding his head to Peter.

Peter returned the smile and waved awkwardly in his direction. He walked up to meet Steve by the steps of the building. Now that he was here, he wasn’t sure what to say. His reasoning for wanting to see him seemed weak. He bit his lip, trying to think of something to say.

Thankfully, Steve saved him from making things weird.

“Hey, Peter, right?” Steve asked, adjusting his hold on the bags.

“Yeah, um, we met at the tower. You probably remember my wings more than me.”

Steve frowned a little. “I’m sorry about how we met. I really put my foot in my mouth. It was disrespectful of me.” He shook his head. “Would you like to come in? I’m about to make some lunch unless you would rather not. I understand given how we met.”

Peter smiled. “It’s fine. I told you then. I forgive you, and yeah, I can eat. If you don’t mind feeding me. I’m not picky, so whatever you make is fine.”

Steve nodded, a crooked smile on his face. He nodded toward the steps. “Live right here, so we don’t need to go far. Follow me up. Oh, uh, I should say.” He paused, looking a little nervous. “My friend, well, he’s more than that, but um, he lives with me, and his wings.” He stopped, biting his lip. “You probably heard of him as the Winter soldier, but he goes by Bucky.”

Peter tried to look surprised, like he hadn’t stalked them the day before. “Oh, that’s fine. I’ve, uh, seen the news, but I’m not scared. I think I know more than most what it’s like to have people judge you on sight.”

Steve pressed his lips together but nodded. “Come on, he’ll be happy to meet you.”

“He doesn’t—he’s not like you were, right? Does he have problems with ravens?”

Steve’s face softened. “No, I don’t think he does. He’s not the type to judge people by their wings. I guess it’s just me who’s that stupid.”

Peter followed Steve inside, stepping aside once he was inside so Steve could lock the door.

“Buck, I’m home, and I brought company, so you better be wearing pants.”

Peter’s eyebrows went up. “Does he usually not?”

Steve chuckled, leading the way down the hall into the kitchen. “More often than you’d think. I don’t think he even wore pants for Thanksgiving dinner. He basted the turkey wearing an apron and his boxers.”

Peter laughed. “That’s, um, really different. I would probably be the same, though, but I live with my aunt, and I don’t think she’d like it.”

Steve set the bags down on the table and started unpacking them. He loaded his arms with yogurts and walked over to the fridge. Peter ran toward it, opening the door for him. Steve smiled and thanked him. Peter went to the table and started passing things to Steve to put away. It didn’t take long for them to put everything away.

Steve got out some lunch meat, lettuce, tomato, and mayo from the fridge, setting it all on the counter. He called over his shoulder for Peter to grab the bread from the top of the fridge. Peter grabbed it and tossed it to Steve.

“So, Peter, what brought you to the neighborhood?”

“Oh, I was out for a walk.”

“You live near here?” Steve asked.

“I’m from Queens, actually.”

Steve hummed. “How are things with you and Tony? I hear he had a little girl.”

“Yeah, her name’s Morgan. She’s pretty great. I guess you could say I’m like her brother. It’s kinda weird. I was always an only child, you know, but I wouldn’t change having her in my life for the world.”

“I was an only child, too. My mother raised me.”

Peter leaned against the counter. “I only have my aunt.”

“I bet she’s a strong woman to raise such a good kid.”

“Yeah,” Peter breathed. “She’s pretty great.”

He watched as Steve finished assembling the sandwiches, then looked to the doorway when his sharp hearing caught the sound of footsteps approaching from the hall. People couldn’t stop his eyes from going a little wide at seeing the famed Winter Soldier in red flannel pants, a tank, and fuzzy slippers. His hair was sticking up a little like he had just woken up. His eyes narrowed when he saw Peter and his head tilted to the side like a confused puppy.

“Steve, why is there a teenager in the kitchen?”

Steve turned, mayo covered knife in his hand, threatening to drip on the floor. “Oh, this is Peter. Peter, meet Bucky, my sometimes better half.”

That only seemed to confuse Bucky more. “But why, Steve?”

“He’s a friend of Tony’s?”

Bucky’s eyes flicked between Peter and Steve. “You don’t sound sure.”

Steve sighed. “He’s not a threat, Buck. You can trust him. He’s like a son to Tony.”

That made Peter jerk back a little. He wondered if Tony had said those words? Not that they weren’t true. Tony and Peter were close, really close, but it stirred something in Peter’s chest to think of Tony referring to him that way. It made it more real somehow.

“Yeah, right.” Bucky grabbed a stool and sat, his metal-tipped wings clinking on the tile floor. “That doesn’t really clear anything up, but okay. Did you put extra tomato on my sandwich?”

Steve just rolled his eyes and turned back to their lunch. Peter tried not to be obvious about it, but he couldn’t stop himself from looking at Bucky’s wings now that he was so close. The metal feathers that were grafted on looked razor-sharp. He made himself tear his gaze away from he got looking, turning instead to Steve and accepting his plate from him.

“Go grab a seat, kid. Bucky doesn’t bite.”

Peter hesitated for a second, and Bucky seemed to notice, looking uncomfortable. Peter immediately felt terrible. The last thing he wanted to do was make Bucky feel bad about his wings.

“I ain’t gonna hurt you, kid. I’d hide them, but well, that doesn’t work for me anymore.”

Peter shook his head. “I’m not scared of your wings. They’re actually really neat.”

Bucky raised a brow as he shook his head. “Neat, huh? Can’t say I’ve heard that one yet.”

Peter shrugged, taking a seat across from Bucky. “I, uh, don’t like to judge people because I don’t like it when people judge me. I know what it’s like to have people be scared of you.”

Bucky scoffed, while Steve frowned, chewing a bit of his sandwich.

“He probably understands more than most, Buck,” Steve said after he swallowed.

“I don’t see how some kid could know a thing about what it’s like to have people rather jump into traffic than cross your path.”

Peter dropped his gaze, chewing his lip. When he looked up, Bucky was deconstructing his sandwich, mayo on his fingers. “I know because—”

“You don’t have to say, Peter. You don’t owe us anything.”

Peter frowned, considering his words. “Yeah, I know, but I don’t want to hide anymore. I’m tired of it. When Morgan was born, I knew I had to be better for her, a role model.” He glanced at Bucky and then stood, making both men look at him. Reaching into himself, he braced himself and then let his wings fall onto his back. The plumage rustled at being released. A stray black feather drifted to the floor. “So, yeah, I’m a raven.”

Bucky’s eyes widened for a second, and then his expression sobered. “I guess you do know.”

“Yeah, you could say that.” His wings twitched as he shuffled his feet. Deciding to leave his wings out, he sat back down and picked up his sandwich. He could feel Bucky’s eyes on him. Peter wondered what he was thinking. He knew Steve had said Bucky was understanding and not one to judge, but saying and doing were two different things.

Peter flicked his gaze up from his sandwich to see Bucky and Steve in a silent conversation. Steve’s mouth twitched, and so did his eyebrow, while Bucky’s head tilted to the side like saying, “Really, Steve.”

Peter dropped his eyes back to his plate and chewed his food. His stomach felt knotted, and his hunger was gone. Setting his sandwich back on his plate, Peter cleared his throat and glanced at Steve. “I can go.”

Steve’s eyes widened, and he shook his head. “What? No. It’s fine. You’re fine, Peter, really.”

“Then why the…” He waved his finger between them. “You were making faces.”

“It’s not about you, not really,” said Bucky. “I was just surprised Stevie here took it so well.”

“Oh, yeah.” Peter rubbed the back of his neck. “He, um, didn’t really. He saw my wings before, at the tower. That’s how we met.”

“You don’t need to beat around the bush. The way I reacted was despicable. I had no excuse, especially after seeing how people treated Bucky.”

Peter shrugged. “Yeah, I guess.”

Bucky sighed, sitting his hands on the table, mayo clinging to his fingers from where he’d peeled the tomatoes off, even though Peter was pretty sure he had asked for extras. “Don’t be too hard on the punk. He can be a little slow, but for the record, I wouldn’t ever judge you, kid. I think your wings are pretty neat myself.”

Peter huffed a laugh. “Yeah, I’m starting to think that, too.”

Bucky smiled, picking up a piece of lettuce and popping it in his mouth. “The way I see it, kid. People like me and you, we got to stick together.”

“I think what Bucky’s saying is, if you ever need a friend, someone who understands, you know where we live.”

Bucky licked his finger. “Yeah, just maybe don’t tell, Stark.”

Peter didn’t know all the details of what happened, but he did know from the news that the Winter Soldier had killed Tony’s parents. Peter didn’t know if Tony had forgiven him or not, but he found himself agreeing with Bucky. Maybe it would be best not to mention it.

“Can I ask you something?” Peter said, scrunching up his nose as he looked at the disaster that was Bucky’s plate. Bucky raised his brows. “Um, what did the sandwich ever do to you?”

“I’ve been asking myself that since we were kids. My ma hit him with a spoon the first time she saw him do it.”

Bucky huffed. “The shit I put up with.”

Peter laughed. Maybe he should have been a little scared, sitting at the same table as the former Winter Soldier, but Peter didn’t see a dangerous assassin, a deadly arm, or razor-sharp wings. He saw a guy who picked apart his sandwich and laughed with his friends. He saw a man that didn’t judge him for being a raven, and that meant something to him.

Peter thought that if Tony saw this side of Bucky, maybe he would forgive him. He wasn’t scary like this. He was human. It might not be easy, but Peter decided then that he would try to mend the rift between Bucky and Tony. It was the right thing to do.

XXX

Peter rang the doorbell and waited for Bucky or Steve to answer. It had been two weeks since he’d first come over for sandwiches with them. After lunch the first day, Peter had programmed his number into Bucky’s phone before he left. He hadn’t expected to hear from him again soon, but a few days later, he had called Peter to check on him.

Today Peter was stopping for a purely selfish reason. He had a report due for AP History on World War Two and the Commandos, and who better than Steve and Bucky to help him write it.

Bucky opened the door, thankfully wearing pants, and let him in. They went to the living room and sat on the couch. Setting his bag on the coffee, he pulled out his notebook.

“Is Steve here, too?” Peter asked, digging for a pen. Once he found one, he set up his phone to record.

Bucky turned, shouting over his shoulder. “Hey, punk, your presence is requested, and bring snacks. I’m hungry. I think there’s a box of those burnt Cheez-it things on the counter.”

“Burnt Cheez-its?” Peter asked.

“Extra toasty or some shit. They’re addicting as fuck.”

“Language, Bucky. He’s a minor,” Steve called from the kitchen.

Bucky rolled his eyes, and Peter laughed.

“So, where do you want to start?” Bucky asked as Steve walked in with the crackers, taking a seat in the chair.

“From the beginning, I guess. Tell me what it was really like.”

Steve passed the box to Bucky. “It was nothing like I ever imagined, but maybe I should start with how I got there. It began with a man named Abraham Erskine.”

Peter listened, recording on his phone and taking notes as Steve and Bucky recounted their time in the war. Four hours and a box of Cheez-its later, Peter had a pile of notes, and the three of them were laughing over stories of the Commandos.

No one mentioned when Peter showed his wings as he got up to get a drink, and Peter stopped noticing the sound of Bucky’s clinking when he moved. He was starting to see that people were complex, and maybe no one ever had it easy. Tony struggled with what was left of his wings, Bucky’s had been changed into weapons, and Peter’s were considered a bad omen, but they were all marks of strength in their own way. If only the rest of the world could see it that way, too.

#Peter parker #spiderman #wingfic #MCU #snark writes

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red-wines-recipes · 4 years ago

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Cheers - Its Wine

Wine is one of the most fascinating drinks among the European citizens. It is an alcoholic beverage prepared from the fermented grape juice. Grapes have the chemical property of carrying out fermentation without the utilization of sugars, enzymes or other nutrients. It is prepared fermenting the crushed grapes with the different types of yeast strains. Yeast consumes all the sugars present in grapes and converts them into alcohol. Different types of grapes and different strains of grapes are responsible for the production of different types of wines. Apples and berries are also utilized for the preparation of wines and the wines obtained are named after the name of the fruit like apple wine or elderberry wine or are popularly name as fruit wine or country wine. Barley and rice wine are prepared from the starch based materials and resemble beer and spirit more than wine and ginger wine is fortified with brandy. The term wine is used for these beverages because of their high alcoholic content. The commercial use of the term English wine is under the government control.

Wine has a very rich history which is 6000 BC old and is thought to have originated in the borders of Georgia and Iran. The wine was prepared in Europe for the first time about 4500 BC ago in the Balkans and was very common in Rome, Thrace and ancient Greece. Wine also deserves an important role in religion throughout the history. The Greek god Dionysus and the Roman god Bacchus symbolize wine and the wine is used in the catholic and Jewish ceremonies. The word wine has originated from a Proto-Germanic word winam which means grape. The earliest cultivation of grapevine Vitis vinifera first started in Georgia. Wine has been prepared in India from the Vedic times. Viticulture started in India first in the Indus valley where grapevines were introduced for the first time from Persia about 5000 BC ago. Chanakya, the chief minister of the Emperor Chandragupta Maurya has discussed about wine in his writings about 4th century BC ago and has designated wine by the term Madhu. He has focused on the side effects of wine and has strongly condemned the use of wine.

Wine is prepared from more than one varieties of Vitis vinifera like Pinot Noir, Chardonnay, Cabernet Sauvignon, Gamay and Merlot. When one of these varieties is used the resultant is termed as varietal. The world's most expensive wines come from the regions like Bordeaux and Rhone Valley are blended from different varieties of the same vintage. Wine can also be prepared from the hybrid varieties of grapes obtained by genetic cross breeding. Vitis labrusca, Vitis aestivalis, Vitis rupestris, Vitis rotundifolia and Vitis riparia are native North American varieties of grapes grown for the production of jams, jellies or sometimes wine.

Hybridization is a different process so cannot be confused with grafting. Most of the world's grape vineyards are planted with the European variety of grapevine Vitis vinifera grafted with the North American species rootstock. This is basically done because the North American species are resistant to Phyllosera a root louse that damages the roots of grapevines resulting in death. In the late 19th century most of the vineyards of Europe were destroyed by a bug leading to deaths of grapevines and heavy economic loss. Grafting is a common practice in all wine producing nations except Argentina, Chile and Canary Islands and only these areas include vineyards free from any devastating pests. Associated with wine production terroir is an important concept that includes variety of grapevine to be used, elevation and shape of vineyard, type and chemistry of soil, climate and seasonal conditions and the local yeast cultures to be used. The fermentation, ageing and processing of wine in terroir may result in good wine production.

The classification, production and sale of wine are under the control of government in many parts of the world. European wines are classified on the basis of the regions where they are produced while non-European ones are classified on the variety of grape used. Common examples of locally recognized non-Europeans regions for wine production include Napa Valley in California, Columbia Valley in Washington, Barossa and Hunter Valley in Australia, Central Valley in Chile, Hawke's Bay and Marlborough in New Zealand and Niagara Peninsula in Canada. Some blended wines are sold by a particular trademark and are under strict rules and regulations of the government for example, Meritage is a generally a Bordeaux-style blend of Cabernet Sauvignon and Merlot and may also include Cabernet Franc, Petit Verdot, and Malbec. The commercial use of the term Meritage is possible only after getting license from the Meritage Association. France uses different systems based on the concept terroir for classification. Greece and Italy classify on the basis of the regions where they are prepared. New World ones are classified on the variety of grapes used for preparation.

A vintage wine is one that is prepared from the grapes grown in a particular season of the year are labeled as vintage. Variations in the character of wine may vary due to palate, colour, nose and development. High quality wines taste better if are stored properly for a long time. Habitual wine drinkers generally stored the bottles of vintage wine for future consumption. For a wine to be called as vintage wine in United States the American Viticultural Area has passed certain rules like the vintage wine must contain 95% of the its volume of the grapes harvested in that year. All the vintage wines are bottles in a single batch so that all may have the similar taste. Climate plays an important role in character of wine as it affects its flavour and quality strongly. So we can say that vintage wines are characteristic of a particular vintage. Superior vintages from a reputed producer and region fetch higher prices of wine than average vintages. Non-vintage wines can also be blended from more than one vintage for consistency a process which allows wine makers to keep a reliable market image and maintain sales even in bad years.

Wine tasting is sensory examination and evaluation of wine. Wines are made from the chemical compounds that found in fruits, vegetables and spices. The sweetness of measured by the amount of sugar left in wine after fermentation, relative to the acidity present in wine. Dry wine has a very small percentage of residual sugar. Individual flavours in the wine can be easily detected as the grape juice and wine contain terpenes and esters as chief components. Experienced tasters can easily identify the type and flavour of wine. Chocolate, vanilla and coffee also act as flavouring agents for wine. Wine aroma comes from the compounds present in wine which are released on being exposed to air. Red wines are highly aromatic. Outstanding vintages from best vineyards fetch good prices in the market around $US 30-50 dollars per bottle. The most commonly purchase wines in Europe include Bordeaux, Burgundy and cult wines. The wine grapes grow almost between thirty to fifty degrees north or south of the equator. The world's southernmost vineyards are present in the Central Otago of New Zealand's South Islands near the 45th parallel south and the north most are in Flen, Sweden just north of 59th parallel north. UK was the largest producer of wine in the year 2007.

Wine is the most important and popular beverage of European and Mediterranean cuisines participating in the simple as well as complex traditions. Apart from its popularity as a beverage wine is also a good flavouring agent particularly used stocks and braising as its acidity imparts a different taste to the sweet dishes. Red, white and sparkling wines are very popular and are known as light wines as they conatin only 10-14% alcohol content by volume. Desert wines contain 14-20% alcohol and are sometimes fortified to make more sweet and tasty. Some wine labels suggest that after opening the wine bottle they must be allowed to breathe for few minutes before consuming while others recommend drinking the wine immediately after opening. Decanting is the process of pouring the wine in a special container for the purpose of breathing only. Decanting the wine with the help of filter removes the bitter sediments that may have been formed in the wine. Sediments are more easily formed in the older wines.

During aeration the exposure of younger wines to air adds flavour as well as aroma to them and also makes them smoother. Older wines lose their flavour as well as aroma if exposed to air for a long time. Exposure of wines to air does not benefit all types of wines. Use of wines in religion and ceremonies has been known since ancient times. Wine is an integral part of Jewish laws and traditions. Kiddush is a blessing recited over grape juice to sanctify the Jewish holiday. In Christianity wine is used in a sacred rite called Eucharist which originates in the Gospel accounts of the Last Supper in which Jesus shared bread and wine with his disciples and commanded them to do the same in remembrance to me. Beliefs about the nature of Eucharist have been disputed among different Christian denominations. The use of alcohol has been strictly prohibited in the Islamic law. Iran and Afghanistan had a wine industry that vanished after the Islamic Revolution in 1979.

Excessive consumption of wine affects the human body. Every 100 gram of red wine provides about 85 Kcal energy, 2.6 g carbohydrates, 0.6 g sugars, 0.0 g fat, 0.1 g proteins and 10.6 g alcohol. Epidemiological studies have shown that moderate consumption of wine reduced death rate by preventing heart attack. Population studies have observed a J curve association between wine consumption and risk of cardiac failure. This suggests that heavy drinkers are at higher risk of getting heart attack than moderate drinkers and non-drinkers. Studies have shown that moderate consumption of alcoholic beverages reduces the risk of cardiac arrest but this association is very much strong with the wines. Some studies have proved red wines to be best over white wines. Red wine contains more polyphenols than white wine so is much more protective against cardiovascular disease.

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wasalwaysagreatpickle · 4 years ago

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Tuesday 26 May 1829

4 50/60

1 10/60

Breakfast in 1/2 hour – at the 8th botanical lecture room in 50 minutes at 7 1/2, just in time – Lecture began immediately and over at 8 1/2 – Recapitulation of the last – then on the greffe (vide Mérat page 52 et seq.) – La greffe ne change pas – grafting not the cause of our having good fruit, but the means of perpetuating what good fruit we have – there must be analogy entre la greffe and le subject – Columella dit qu’on peut greffer par approche le figuier et l’olivier, mais M. Desfontaines ne la croit pas – such experiments have been tried et jamais il ne les voyait réussir – on peut conter cinquante manières de greffer dout les principales sout cinq[uante] vid[e] Mérat p[age] 53-55. Greffe en feute and en Eeusson described by Ving. (georg ii Line 73-82) he quoted the lines and many of the people, for what reason I could not make out, laughed or were in a smothered titter – Greffe par approche the most certain graft – nature perpetually gives examples of it – des pins and des sapins s’entregreffent à catte mauière – hedges grafted in this way are very good, - impenetrable – then on Boutures vide Mérat page 51. Take off the leaves; for the leaves would take the sap that ought to nourish the branch – make a bourrelet by means of a ligature that the branch may the sooner put out roots – you may thus make all branches shoot by taking wood of the 2nd (or last year) year and covering it from the air, and putting it in earth on a hot bark bed – or put the branch in water –

Walked about reading this mornings chemical leçon (14th) which lasted from 9 20/60 for 1 1/2 hour – and off home at 10 50/60 – en passant saw in the window at Furne’s 2 du augustins 37, Hallam on the middle ages translated into French – went in and bought it (Miss Hobart had consulted me on Monday what French history she should read and had said she should like to read Hallam) 4 volume]s 800 1828 24/. but 10 percent abated – the man did it so handsomely, I think I shall employ him perhaps as my regular book seller here? – In spite of being detained a minute or 2 at Furne’s, walked so fast, got to Mrs Barlow’s in 50 minutes at 11 40/60 –

Thought it was just a week since I had been, I must go or all the fat would be in the fire. Tete a tete with her in her room felt anything but on the amoroso –

Looking very pale – the hot walk had tired me – the heat will be always too much by and by – must get a cabriolet or contrive some way –

So sat with my head on her lap till near four half asleep while she picked out my gray hairs then happening to touch her, she said you must not do that if you rub me I don’t know where I shall be. This made me bid her lock the door and we lay on the bed and I grubbled her right middle finger up twice a matter of perfect indifference to me till her appearance of pleasure made me feel at last slightly moist, she seemed to well enough yet said she had come quite right to me she should not have been in a family way from this time. I then pretended to sleep and enjoyed the quiet got up after having been one and a quarter hour on the bed and

got home at 5 40/60 – dressed – dinner at 6 20/60 – came to my room 8 1/4 – wrote and sent at 8 3/4 to ‘Miss Hobart’ the following ‘Dear Miss Hobart I hope you were not much tired last night – I fancied I knew more about Tœplitz or Teplitz than I really did – you will find it in Bohemia, and celebrated for its warm baths, not very far, I should think, from Dresden – very truly yours AL- Paris Tuesday evening 26 May’ –

I had been before looking over the map of Germany – Had said to Miss Hobart on Monday how nice it would be if she and old lady Stuart could make a little tour along the Rhine – thought I to myself if they could I would go with them?

Mrs B- [Barlow] came at 9 to see my aunt and stayed till 11 – I kept her talking about apartments – she is to look about for some tomorrow – came to my room at 11 – very fine day – cut open the whole volume read the first 20pp volume 1 Hallam – very fine day, though not sunny this morning, and there had been a good deal of rain during last night –

#anne lister #maria barlow #vere hobart #1829 #anne lister code breaker

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somstory · 5 years ago

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Chapter 32 of Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov

There was the day, during our first trip—our first circle of paradise—when in order to enjoy my phantasms in peace I firmly decided to ignore what I could not help perceiving, the fact that I was to her not a boy friend, not a glamour man, not a pal, not even a person at all, but just two eyes and a foot of engorged brawn—to mention only mentionable matters. There was the day when having withdrawn the functional promise I had made her on the eve (whatever she had set her funny little heart on—a roller rink with some special plastic floor or a movie matinee to which she wanted to go alone), I happened to glimpse from the bathroom, through a chance combination of mirror aslant and door ajar, a look on her face . . . that look I cannot exactly describe . . . an expression of helplessness so perfect that it seemed to grade into one of rather comfortable inanity just because this was the very limit of injustice and frustration—and every limit presupposes something beyond it—hence the neutral illumination. And when you bear in mind that these were the raised eyebrows and parted lips of a child, you may better appreciate what depths of calculated carnality, what reflected despair, restrained me from falling at her dear feet and dissolving in human tears, and sacrificing my jealousy to whatever pleasure Lolita might hope to derive from mixing with dirty and dangerous children in an outside world that was real to her.

And I have still other smothered memories, now unfolding themselves into limbless monsters of pain. Once, on a sunset-ending street of Beardsley, she turned to little Eva Rosen (I was taking both nymphets to a concert and walking behind them so close as almost to touch them with my person), she turned to Eva, and so very serenely and seriously, in answer to something the other had said about its being better to die than hear Milton Pinski, some local schoolboy she knew, talk about music, my Lolita remarked:

“You know, what’s so dreadful about dying is that you are completely on your own”; and it struck me, as my automaton knees went up and down, that I simply did not know a thing about my darling’s mind and that quite possibly, behind the awful juvenile clichés, there was in her a garden and a twilight, and a palace gate—cim and adorable regions which happened to be lucidly and absolutely forbidden to me, in my polluted rags and miserable convulsion; for I often noticed that living as we did, she and I, in a world of total evil, we would become strangely embarrassed whenever I tried to discuss something she and an older friend, she and a parent, she and a real healthy sweetheart, I and Annabel, Lolita and a sublime, purified, analyzed, defied Harold Haze, might have discussed—an abstract idea, a painting, stippled Hopkins or shorn Baudelaire, God or Shakespeare, anything of a genuine kind. Good will! She would mail her vulnerability in trite bashness and boredom, whereas I, using for my desperately detached comments an artificial tone of voice that set my own last teeth on edge, provoked my audience to such outbursts of rudeness as made any further conversation impossible, oh my poor, bruised child.

I loved you. i was a pentapod monster, but I loved you. I was despicable and brutal, and turpid, and everything, mais je t’aimais, je t’aimais! And there were times when I knew how you felt, and it was hell to know it, my little one. Lolita girl, brave Dolly Schiller.

I recall certain moments, let us call them icebergs in paradise, when after having had my fill of her—after fabulous, insane exertions that left me limp and azure-barred—I would gather her in my arms with, at last, a mute moan of human tenderness (her skin glistening in the neon light coming from the paved court through the slits in the blind, her soot-black lashes matted, her grave gray eyes more vacant than ever—for all the world a little patient still in the confusion of a drug after a major operation)—and the tenderness would deepen to shame and despair, and I would lull and rock my lone light Lolita in my marble arms, and moan in her warm hair, and caress her at random and mutely ask her blessing, and at the peak of this human agonized selfless tenderness (with my soul actually hanging around her naked body and ready to repent), all at once, ironically, horribly, lust would swell again—and “oh, no” Lolita would say with a sigh to heaven, and the next moment the tenderness and the azure—all would be shattered.

Mid-twentieth century ideas concerning child-parent relationship have been considerably tainted by the scholastic rigmarole and standardized symbols of the psychoanalytic racket, but I have hope I am addressing myself to unbiased readers. Once when Avis’s father had honked outside to signal papa had come to take his pet home, I felt obliged to invite him to the parlor, and he sat down for a minute, and while we conversed, Avis, a heavy, unattractive, affectionate child, drew up to him and eventually perched plumply on his knee. Now, I do not remember if I have mentioned that Lolita always had an absolutely enchanting smile for strangers, a tender furry slitting of the eyes, a dreamy sweet radiance of all her features which did not mean a thing of course, but was so beautiful, so endearing that one found it hard to reduce such sweetness to but a magic gene automatically lighting up her face in atavistic token of some ancient rite of welcome—hospitable prostitution, the coarse reader may say. Well, there she stood while Mr. Byrd twirled his hat and talked, and—yes, look at how stupid of me, I have left out the main characteristic of the famous Lolita smile, namely: while the tender, nectared, dimpled brightness played, it was never directed at the stranger in the room but hung in its own remote flowered void, so to speak, or wandered with myopic softness over chance objects—and this is what was happening now: while fat Avis sidled up to her papa, Lolita gently beamed at a fruit knife that she fingered on the edge of the table, whereon she leaned, many miles away from me. Suddenly, as Avis clung to her father’s neck and ear while, with a casual arm, the man enveloped his lumpy and large offspring, I saw Lolita’s smile lose all its light and become a frozen little shadow of itself, and the fruit knife slipped off the table and struck her with its silver handle a freak blow on the ankle which made her gasp, and crouch head forward, and then, jumping on one leg, her face awful with the preparatory grimace which children hold till the tears gush, she was gone—to be followed at once and consoled in the kitchen by Avis who had such a wonderful fat pink dad and a small chubby brother, and a brand-new baby sister, and a home, and two grinning dogs, and Lolita had nothing. And I have a neat pendant to that little scene—also in a Beardsley setting. Lolita, who had been reading near the fire, stretched herself, and then inquired, her elbow up, with a grunt: “Where is she buried anyway?” “Who?” “Oh, you know, my murdered mummy.” “And you know where her grave is,” I said controlling myself, whereupon I named the cemetery—just outside Ramsdale, between the railway tracks and Lakeview Hill. “Moreover,” I added, “the tragedy of such an accident is somewhat cheapened by the epithet you saw fit to apply to it. If you really wish to triumph in your mind over the idea of death—” “Ray,” said Lo for hurray, and languidly left the room, and for a long while I stared with smarting eyes into the fire. Then I picked up her book. It was some trash for young people. There was a gloomy girl Marion, and there was her stepmother who turned out to be, against all expectations, a young, gay, understanding redhead who explained to Marion that Marion’s dead mother had really been a heroic woman since she had deliberately dissimulated her great love for Marion because she was dying, and did not want her child to miss her. I did not rush up to her room with cries. I always preferred the mental hygiene of noninterference. Now, squirming and pleading with my own memory, I recall that on this and similar occasions, it was always my habit and method to ignore Lolita’s states of mind while comforting my own base self. When my mother, in a livid wet dress, under the tumbling mist (so I vividly imagined her), had run panting ecstatically up that ridge above Moulinet to be felled there by a thunderbolt, I was but an infant, and in retrospect no yearnings of the accepted kind could I ever graft upon any moment of my youth, no matter how savagely psychotherapists heckled me in my later periods of depression. But I admit that a man of my power of imagination cannot plead personal ignorance of universal emotions. I may also have relied too much on the abnormally chill relations between Charlotte and her daughter. But the awful point of the whole argument is this. It had become gradually clear to my conventional Lolita during our singular and bestial cohabitation that even the most miserable of family lives was better than the parody of incest, which, in the long run, was the best I could offer the waif.

#lolita #nabokov

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dr-gloom · 5 years ago

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Trans(Masc) Survival Guide: Top Surgery

in honor of Pride Month I decided to finally finish this and get it out of my drafts. I hope this helps, guys!!!

Types of Surgeries

Keyhole

Tl;dr small incisions made near the nipple. Breast tissue is removed via liposuction.

Pros: Nipple sensitivity intact, minimally invasive, little to no scarring

Cons: May, in some cases, result in loose skin. Can only be done with smaller breast sizes, as stated above.

Double Incision

Tl;dr incisions made more or less along the pectoral muscle, though the shape of the incision varies from surgeon to surgeon. Can include free nipple graft, where the nipple is removed, made smaller, and reattached

Pros: very clean appearance, some surgeons "sculpt", for any breast size, better statistical results.

Cons: larger incision= larger scars, longer/harder healing time, nerve connected to nipple is severed; it can regrow, but it takes years - no guarantees.

Nipple Graft

In my experience, and from what I understand is most if not all people's experience, if you want a more "male" nipple they resize it, then reattach it as a skin graft. They sever the nerve to physically move your whole nipple. The link above is an article written by a surgeon that I highly recommend reading.

Drains or No Drains?

This really depends on your surgeon. I've heard some surgeons (in Toronto) sew the muscles to the skin with degradable stitches to prevent seromas. If they have some sort of method like this and can guarantee there won't be fluid buildup, then you won't need drains. If they don't, I recommend drains, but you’re free to not get them. They're probably uncomfortable (I don't have them so idk) but trust me, they're a necessary evil. If you don't have drains and get seromas, it's not only very uncomfortable, but it can be potentially hazardous to your health. Moreso if you have to travel to see your doctor like I do. Of course, not everyone gets seromas or experiences complications with swelling. But it’s better to be safe than sorry, I always say.

Aftercare

Seromas

Seromas, if you didn't click the link, are fluid buildup below the skin (and fat) that builds up after surgery, particularly one where something is removed from the body, like top surgery. They can form right after, a few days after, or even a week after the surgery. They can go away on their own, but it takes a few weeks up to a month or so as the body reabsorbs the fluid. They may make noise, and you may feel the fluid moving. It's normal.

On their own, they're harmless. However, if they cause a fever, the affected skin is warm to the touch, they cause pain, nausea, or trouble breathing, do not hesitate to contact your surgeon.

What Do I Need to Survive Post-Surgery?

A pillow to put between you and the seatbelt. Trust me.

A trashcan if you get nauseous from anaesthesia (if you don't know, bring it anyway. Play it safe)

A blanket or two in case anaesthesia makes you cold.

Crackers. Lots of them. You'll need to eat every time you take your pain meds and/or antibiotics, and crackers are super easy and fast and small.

A back scratcher. Your whole body will itch, it comes with the territory.

A claw thing to reach for stuff.

A husband pillow or pillow wedge (the triangles, not the weirdly shaped ones). You need to sit up or lay down at an angle. The straighter your back, the better (which is why I recommend the wedge personally. I love it soooo much).

Ice packs, a working ice maker, whatever. You need cold to reduce swelling.

Compression socks if you have poor circulation. You're going to spend at least the next two or three days in bed unless you're using the bathroom.

Tank tops, sweats, any kind of loose and easy clothing. You can't move your arms much, so anything with a wide arm hole and any pants without buttons and zippers is best.

Bed tray and a towel or bib. You should have something to put food/dishes/your computer/cups/bottles/whatever on while you're confined to your bed, and you can't risk crumbs falling into your bandages.

Wet wipes and if you need it, dry shampoo. Showering is a huge no, and you'll start to feel hella gross if you can't get in for a waist-deep bath. Have the person caring for you clean your hair. YOU SHOULDN’T BE RAISING YOUR ARMS.

Oh yeah, someone to take care of you. They will ask you if someone can take care of you, because you’ll be severely physically limited. Make sure you’re covered for at least a week, though I’d recommend the first 2-3 weeks.

Make sure your floor is as clean as possible. You cannot risk a fall right now.

Make sure anything you could possibly need is easily accessible (not too high up) just in case you're left alone for any period of time during your healing.

DO NOT MOVE YOUR ARMS TOO MUCH. YOU ARE A T-REX FOR AT LEAST A WEEK. I moved my arms more than I should have because I didn’t have someone to help me (well, I did, but rather than helping me she was telling me to hurry up) and now part of the muscles in my right pec are rock hard (I pulled them or.... something). Listen to your surgeon, I beg you.

#trans #top surgery #survival guide #tips #psa #surgery

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