#it's going to be a very long recovery process for a very large amount of people

[tj-crochets]

Do you have a particular organization you work with for providing disaster relief?

At the moment, no. My dad and several of my neighbors have been helping out with various local groups, but so far my donations have been things like clothes I had on hand that happened to be the size my neighbor's coworker, who lost their house in a flood, needed, or stuff like that The baby blankets are going to a different neighbor's kid's school, who is arranging donations for...I think it's a particular city but I am not sure how to reveal what city without giving away where I live more precisely than I really want to? I live close enough to the flooding that I don't really need to work with an organization, because everyone in my neighborhood is at max two degrees of separation from someone who lost everything in the floods. I can give things, including baby blankets, directly to the families affected. I mean, that said, I am giving them to my neighbors to distribute, but that's because I can't drive and a lot of the places donations are going you can't drive to at the moment anyway. One of my neighbors is organizing people with ATVs to go take food, water, fuel, and other necessities up to some of the communities that currently have no road access I got very, very lucky with where I live and the infrastructure that happened to be in place*. There was severe flooding less than ten minutes away from where I live in more than one direction, but where I live made it and enough of the roads are intact to be able to get out. Some routes are more circuitous than they used to be, but it's still possible

*by happened to be in place I mean in my particular neighborhood and the work my dad has had done in our yard, not the rest, I know a lot of people over a lot of years made the infrastructure of the larger area

[defilerwyrm]

May i ask how's the recovery process after gender affirming surgeries?

If you mean how's it going now: my last surgery was in 2022 so at this point I'm 100% healed up. I was SUPPOSED to get my implants in December 2023 but my insurance company has been fucking me over at every turn so that's still on hold.

If you mean how was it at the time:

Top surgery (2018) was pretty easy for me since I have a desk job. I stayed with family in town for the first 2 weeks, during which time I basically did nothing but sleep, wake up long enough to use the toilet, take a dry shower, eat something, take more pain meds, then go back to sleep. I had 4 weeks off work, so after that I was a little sore and still confined to button-down shirts because I couldn't raise my arms above shoulder level; then I went back to work and all was normal for the next month. But...

Because I am an unlucky son of a bitch, I had a rare complication: I developed a seroma that dehysced (i.e. a hole opened up along my suture line that leaked large amounts of greasy, bright orange fluid made up of lymph and blood), which was not painful at all but was absolutely disgusting and very alarming to experience—but not a medical emergency or anything, and was easily fixed with a revision surgery. I took another 2 (I think?) weeks off work and it's been fine ever since. The left side of my chest is a little funny but I don't really care, it was fully worth it. Please note that I did not have drains. If you have drains, you're even LESS likely to have this problem.

Hysterectomy (2019) was much the same: I slept through the first two weeks and spent the next 2 in a recliner with an ice pack on my lower belly, playing a lot of Stardew Valley and getting into Critical Role. I was lucky enough to live with a friend who loves cooking. I ate a lot of soup. The soreness wasn't that bad, but I have a policy of staying ahead of the pain by using timers for how often I should be taking them. The worst part of it was the pain meds, tbh, because I really don't like the way oxycodone makes me feel; at the same time, I'm grateful for that fact because it keeps me from forming a habit.

Phalloplasty etc (2021) was kinda rough to start. I had 3 months off work that time. Slept through the first 2 weeks as usual. But for the first 3 weeks total I had a suprapubic catheter in and man I fuckin' hate being cathed. I felt like I needed to pee at all times, even immediately after draining the cath bag. Awful. Learning to pee standing up was...let's just say I did a lot of laundry and cleaning, lol. This was made worse by the fact that I had two fistulae (holes that go through the urethra all the way to the outside)—like I said, I've got bad luck. One of them healed up all on its own, like most of them do. The other one required a revision 8 months later, which meant being cathed again for a while, SIGH. But back to post-op for phallo: I had physical therapy for my left arm to make sure I kept a good range of motion; I kept the graft bandaged with daily gentle cleanup, application of ointments, and rebandaging; and had to take dry showers for the first uhhhhh. 2 weeks at least, maybe 3 or 4? After I got the cath out, things were MUCH easier. I was just kinda vaguely tired and sore and spent most of my time lying down. My libido came back at the start of the 2nd month, which was frustrating af because it wasn't till the start of the 3rd month that I was healed up enough to do anything about it (but once I could, holy FUCK it was incredible).

[mega-ringsandthings-world]

I'm back on my asking bullshit, and I bring the pain!

So, I know I've talked about physical healing before, specifically to do mostly with Mihawk, but let's talk about Shanks! The way you describe his scars indicates first, second and third-degree burns covering the whole of his upper body. The ow factor aside, the fact that he didn't pass out from the pain is both horrifying in its implications for his pain tolerance and horrifying because if he didn't pass out, there's a good chance he cooked his nerves dead. This is bad for recovery because, on one hand, burn victims have been known to die from the immense stress and pain full-body burns produce. Not feeling the pain could keep him alive, but once the adrenaline wears off, Shanks is going to be in agony for a very long time that only pain meds can help with, and even that's iffy on them helping all the way. Oh the other hand if he crisped his nerves that means long healing more damages and a lot more affect on his over all ability to move from stretching to reaction time.

Then there's the healing. You are a well-informed individual, but for those who aren't informed, every burn victim I've looked up has said they'd rather burn a hundred times before having to go through the healing process of burns again. In fact, at some point, they wished they'd died instead of going through it again. They'll have to change Shanks' bandages every day from his face to down his torso, and every day it will feel like being skinned alive as the nerves come back on. Not to mention the removal of necrotic skin—debridement over a period of time as the nerves and new skin grow back. Oh, and skin grafts, so many skin grafts. So, a lot of surgery.

His life for a year or two is going to go from psychological torture straight into the physical torture of healing. No wonder he develops an addiction to drugs and alcohol. His life is pain, his mind is a death trap, and he's losing the love of his life inch by torturous inch.

PT is going to be hell for both of them. Shanks will probably have to wear compression garments/bandages all over his face and body while he heals all the time, which will fuck with him movement-wise. Hopefully, the One Piece magic healing will reduce that from two years to about one instead.

Yeah healing from burns is no Joke and if Shanks wasn’t already riddled with trauma this would be more to add to the pile.

!!!!! Yessssss. Pain is my thing. This is a great topic, because those those are Mihawk's haki burns, which are very, very interesting, because, key word, Haki. If haki burns possess the physical characteristics of thermal burns, then Shanks is indeed going to be in agony for a very long time. Everything you mentioned Shanks would suffer and require for his healing, the daily changes of bandaging across a large portions of his body, necrotic skin removal, grafts/surgery. (Burns are not something I'd wish on my worst enemy, recovery from them even less so. Pain meds only take a chunk off that utter hell.) And irregardless of physical characteristics, the pain of receiving those burns would amount to the pain of third-degree burns either way. Even with how high his pain tolerance is at the time (due to all the previous torture) he wouldn't keep consciousness for long after being initially burnt. Nerves are indeed cooked, literally cooked (or switched off by the brain due to the psychosomatic-inducing shock of the haki) Which brings us to how haki burns could differ from thermal burns, simplified, haki is the manifestation of the will of the user, and Mihawk was exerting so much will to protect Shanks that a shadow of the "shield" he was creating imprinted on Shanks' body. The question is whether or not armament haki possesses kinetic energy when in use, and if the force from the impact of it with Shanks generated enough thermal energy to burn nearly a third of his body. On one hand, it's realistically possible, given that armament haki can be physically seen when used for Hardening, on the other hand, and taking into account that haki is a metaphysical thing, the burns inflicted in that case could also be more metaphysical, and so fully psychological/neurological. Nerve receptors and brain synapses would be fucked, pulses wouldn't be transmitted right, the parietal lobes are completely rattled loose do to the infliction of external willpower. Shanks would suffer the pain (or what his brain is telling him is pain, it's trying to categorize the effect haki caused to it and the closest thing it has is pain) of physical burns on the parts of his body touched by the haki, and the further pain of nerves on-lining as his brain slowly-unfucks itself. So while there may be no actual physical burns save for pesudo-tattoos of the Hardening effect, it will feel like there are, which does a number psychologically on a different level. Feeling pain you can neither see nor find no evidence of. Either way, yeah it's no mystery why Shanks turns to alcohol to deal with this. And compounding Mihawk's conditions and distance during all of this, Mihawk is the one responsible for Shanks' burns, whatever version he may have. Mihawk was the one who caused Shanks the pain he has to live with for years, and this is not lost on him. Neither is the utter guilt he would feel because of it. Healing will be hell indeed, either Shanks is getting his skin scraped off or buried in his treatments bandages, or is trying to scrape his own skin off to try to exorcise the perpetual sensation of being burnt. Not a fun thing to deal with in the midst of everything else he currently will be shouldering.

[honeysuckle-venom]

@queerfirewatchers asked a lot of great questions about our journey towards fusion the other day, I'm going to make them into a post here! It's very long, so it's going below the cut

Does your therapist specialize in dissociative disorders? If not, do you feel like that was a vice in terms of recovery?

My therapist does not specialize in dissociative disorders, but she does specialize in trauma, and had a decent amount of experience with dissociative disorders before me. She also has a lot of experience/arguably specialization in psychotic disorders and trauma based psychosis, which has been hugely important for me. I do not at all feel like her not being a CDD specialist was a negative thing; in fact, for me personally it probably would've been a worse experience to work with a CDD specialist because of my particular comorbidities. It was definitely important that she had previous experience with DID, and it would've been a problem if I had felt like I was the one educating her, but thankfully that was not the case. The other reason it wasn't a problem for me in terms of recovery is that our journey towards fusion is 100% a trauma recovery journey. Very very little of the work we've done, especially in the last few years, has been explicitly about DID. We rarely talk about alters, and despite have therapy 2-3 times per week for over 9 years I know that my therapist could not name all of my alters, because that makes up very little of what we talk about. For me healing from DID has been primarily about a) healing from trauma and b) accepting the parts of myself that I feared/hated/was ashamed of. Those two things are what have lead to fusion for me, not explicit DID recovery/communication/integration work. There was a bit more of that type of work earlier on, but the last few years? Very very little. But of course my process is not going to be the same as anyone else's, and there are some people who do need a DID specialist. We just weren't one of them.

2. How did you get all your alters on board with it? I'm really struggling with that part because I feel like I can't get the parts who are blocking us to show up in therapy

I'm going to be honest, I don't 100% know how to answer this one. When we first learned about our DID we were terrified of fusion. It sounded like killing some of us off, like destroying some of our chances to be who we wanted to be. And then even when we tried to believe it wasn't really like that, it still sounded awful bc it meant we'd have to be present all the time, no more switching out when triggered or overwhelmed, and why would I ever do that to myself? Why would I get rid of such an effective coping mechanism? I tried to keep an open mind, and certainly was never philosophically against fusion like some people are, but most of us had zero interest in seeking it out for ourselves.

That attitude changed very slowly, largely due to interacting with other people who had fused or were interested in fusion or were at least discussing it without the fearmongering you see all over tumblr. And then, several years ago, my brain did a weird thing. It gave me a week off. For about a week, everyone except me went dormant, but it didn't feel scary or bad. It was essentially like a sneak preview of fusion. I didn't have the kind of access to other parts I have now, but it wasn't quite like normal dormancy either. It was quiet, and peaceful, and felt like how I imagined people who had never had DID felt. I don't know how or why my brain did this, and it didn't last very long. But it felt really good, and gave us the courage to really start to accept fusion as a goal. I know that's not a helpful answer, because I don't know how or why that happened to me and can't make it happen to you. But that's pretty much how we got everyone on board.

I will say something about the second part of your question though, about having trouble getting the parts who aren't on board to show up to therapy. First of all, that sounds very frustrating, and I'm sorry that's been hard. You probably know all of the normal advice here (try to find out why they don't want therapy, do they not like your therapist, are they afraid of integration, do they think they need to keep secrets for abusers and/or from other parts, etc etc etc). If it's important for them to go to therapy, obviously you should try to work on that, and if there are issues that are stopping it from happening you should address them. But. I will say that at least for us, it was not necessary for every part to go to therapy, and many of us have never been. Even some of our most "difficult" parts never attended therapy. Instead, I talked about them in therapy, and my therapist was usually the one encouraging me to have more empathy for those parts. That was more important in the end for us than some of those parts attending themselves. Additionally, fusion really won't happen if you're not all on board, and that's okay. One of the things you definitely don't want to do is push it. For us fusion was a very very slow and natural process that came along with healing and lowering dissociative barriers. By the time we got to the point when it would be possible, we had been working as a team for long enough that some parts not being on board was not an issue. We had to work very very hard at understanding and accepting each other, that was the most important thing, including understanding things we fundamentally disagreed on, and trying to work those disagreements out and compromise. We had an easier time with this than many systems do, but it still took a lot of effort. But once we had done that, everyone was kind of naturally on board and working together and fusion just started happening because we were finally ready. My advice is not to push towards fusion, it's to push towards healing and acceptance of each other, at which point fusion might be something that happens, or it might not. And having all parts attend therapy is not necessary for that and may in fact be counterproductive at the moment if you're forcing them to do something they don't want to do. I would recommend trying to understand what's holding them back from healing instead of trying to force them to heal in ways they aren't ready for.

3. I understand that part of healing is integrating and sharing memories and cooperating, but idk how to do that when so many of the memories are like…. paralyzing with how petrifying they are to have happened to Me Collectively instead of Me an Alter. how did you deal with fear, assuming you had something similar?

I've definitely dealt with this, and it was by far the hardest part of the whole thing. And also the most important part, unfortunately. A huge, huge part of integrating has been not just surface-level-acknowledging but truly processing that I actively experienced some honestly horrific things. In some ways I was kind of forced to push through that fear, because I was getting flashbacks/having things come up no matter what, so I had to talk about them. And I didn't force it overly when things weren't coming up naturally. I tend to trust my brain/subconscious to know when it's time to do trauma processing. But it was still extremely difficult when it was time to face processing and integrating those memories and experiences and grieving their effects. And I had to do it in layers. I would process an aspect of my trauma history, and be horrified, and feel sick, and grieve, and talk about it, and I would think I was done. But actually I was only processing to the extent I was capable of at the time. And then a year later I'd kind of reach a new level with my recovery and the same memories would hit me differently and I'd have to do the whole thing over again. And each time it was pretty horrible. I don't really have anything that makes the process better. What I can say is that it's fucking worth it. I was always told "it gets better" and "recovery is possible" but tbh I didn't truly believe it. I hung onto it as a mantra, because I needed that hope, but I couldn't internalize the concept until I started to experience it myself. Part of why it was so hard for me to accept is because I hadn't really met anyone who'd done it. All of my friends were also deeply mentally ill, and I was further along in therapy than pretty much all of them. The only source I had was my own therapist, I didn't know details but I knew she'd recovered from some Serious Stuff TM. But because I didn't know details it still wasn't that helpful of an example. But I'm experiencing it now, and I can finally say for sure that it's real. That not only is fusion real, but trauma recovery is real. Those same memories, that I had to process over and over in a deeply scary and painful way in therapy? That tortured me for years? Aren't as powerful anymore. They're getting less powerful every day. My PTSD symptoms are improving, and I never thought that would happen. I thought that even if we fused I'd still be tormented by my past experiences. And while that's still true to a certain extent, for the first time in my life the impact of my trauma is lessening. I had to accept that those things happened to me, and it was awful. But having accepted that and worked to heal from it, it's so much less painful than it was before going through that process. It's a hard process, and it feels endless at times, but it truly is possible to come out the other side in a way that I once thought was a myth.

4. did you ever run into the problem of not knowing if a feeling was coming from your ocd or an alter? cause I've been dealing with that a lot and idk how to tell the difference or how to proceed bc I'm scared of irreparably causing damage by doing it "wrong" if that makes any sense

This is a tricky one. While I have not had the problem of not knowing if a feeling was coming specifically from my OCD or an alter, I have definitely had the feeling of not knowing if something was coming from my psychosis or an alter, which is different but not entirely dissimilar. In those cases though the treatment for both for me is quite similar, so it's not necessarily a helpful example when it comes to this question. I would need a few more details to know what your concerns are here/why you're so worried about this? But even if the things you would do to help with OCD are very different from how you would try to help an alter, I highly doubt that you need to be quite so worried about doing it "wrong," and I think even if you do the chances of the damage being irreparable is so slim as to be almost nonexistent. If it's possible to recover from the kind of damage that causes DID (and it is) then it's possible to recover from some mistakes during treatment. In fact, it's pretty much inevitable that you and/or your therapist will make at least a few mistakes along the way, and learning that it's possible to do that and to repair those mistakes is honestly an important part of the process. So while I would need more specifics to understand what the exact concerns are here/how I might respond to them, I will say that in general I don't think you need to be so afraid of attempting to heal something one way, realizing it's not working, and then trying something different.

Thank you so so much for all of these amazing questions, I really enjoyed answering them and I hope my answers can give some insight to people wondering about fusion! I'm happy to receive more questions from anyone who wants to send them :)

[glowwellnesscare]

Platelet-Rich Plasma: New Performance Understandings and Therapeutic Considerations

The Platelet-rich plasma (PRP) treatment is slowly being accepted as the possible cure for a series of medical and aesthetic issues. If you're looking to speed up the recovery from an injury or increase the skin's vitality, knowing the key concepts of PRP can be very useful. In this guide, we will highlight the therapy of PRP treatment, its advantages, and the discussions to have prior to undergoing this therapy.

Understanding PRP: What is Platelet-Rich Plasma?

PRP, which stands for Platelet-Rich Plasma, is a by-product from your own blood. It has more platelets than the generally found levels in blood. Platelets are essential for the blood to clot and also they secrete growth factors which are responsible for healing and regeneration of tissue.

PRP is prepared by taking a small amount of your blood and spinning it in a centrifuge. The plasma is then removed and processed by adding platelets to them. The solution containing concentrated PRP is then injected into the area of the body that needs treatment. This method has gained popularity in both medical and cosmetic fields due to its various advantages.

How PRP Treatment Works

Having gained the basic knowledge of PRP, let us look at what PRP treatment entails. When the PRP is injected into the targeted area, it activates the body's own healing process. This is especially good for those kinds of injuries that include tendons, ligaments, muscles, and joints. The growth factors found in the PRP promote tissue repair, inflammation reduction, and even pain relief.

PRP treatment is cosmetic applications. PRP is essentially collagen boosters that way to get rid of the fine deformities, wrinkles, and scars, thus ensuring the skin looks younger. PRP treatment in Mississauga is a versatile solution for both medical and aesthetic purposes and if you are a candidate for it then you should consider it.

The Benefits of PRP Treatment

The major pro of PRP treatment is its flexibility. Since it contains only natural ingredients from your body, there is a minimal risk of allergic reactions or complications to be expected. Besides, PRP can be customized to people with particular problems, whether you are suffering from sports injuries or if you want a facelift without the need for surgery.

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Who Can Benefit from PRP?

PRP therapy is applicable to a large number of people. Athletes and physically active people usually use PRP to enhance healing in case of injuries. It’s also a wonderful alternative for those who are going through chronic diseases such as osteoarthritis. In the field of cosmetics, PRP is a perfect choice for those who want to improve their skin's appearance without invasive procedures.

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Considerations Before Undergoing PRP Treatment

Despite the fact that PRP treatment can have various advantages, it is necessary to consider some things. To begin with, it is vital to have realistic expectations. PRP promotes recovery and improves the overall look of the skin but does not bring immediate or miraculous results. The treatment's effectiveness also depends on the type of the condition being treated and the individual body's response to the therapy.

It's also very important to find out a trustworthy provider. If you plan to undergo PRP treatment in Mississauga, make sure the facility is well-equipped, and the practitioners are experienced. A detailed consultation will help you grasp the procedure, possible risks, and probable results.

What to Expect During and After PRP Treatment

PRP treatment is a relatively quick procedure, typically taking about an hour. During the session, the practitioner will draw a small amount of your blood, process it to concentrate the platelets, and inject the PRP into the targeted area. While the injection may cause some discomfort, it’s generally well-tolerated.

After the treatment, you might experience some swelling, redness, or mild pain at the injection site. These symptoms usually subside within a few days. It's essential to follow your provider's post-treatment care instructions to ensure optimal results. Depending on your condition, you might need multiple sessions to achieve the desired outcome.

Conclusion: Is PRP Right for You?

Platelet-Rich Plasma (PRP) treatment is a promising option for those seeking to enhance their health and appearance. Whether you're dealing with a stubborn injury or looking for a natural way to rejuvenate your skin, PRP offers a versatile solution. For those considering PRP treatment in Mississauga, Glamderm Med Spa provides expert care tailored to your needs.

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PRP treatment is a step toward a healthier, more vibrant you. Consider this therapy as part of your wellness or beauty journey, and consult with a professional to see how PRP can benefit you.

[lilacastar]

A new day, to wash the old one away.

The dry and hollow feelings of recovery lingered within Garret, but it was something he could manage. It was only growing pain. Progress was never linear, but in this morning he awoke early to continue the process. He was ready to move forward.

And in this morning, he started fresh. Coffee made, breakfast eaten, and even showered away the unclean feelings. Things would be better, even if it wasn't ok for a while. Even if things got bad again, he wasn't alone. And there was someone else he knew that could use the same thing. Someone else needed a person to talk to.

Despite the impact of Saturday still leaving its last scent, it was the least he could do to keep going with confidence. With knowledge he could be there when no one was for himself.

-

The class seemed to sense the shift in the atmosphere as well. A few attempted to test him, but were met with calm certainty. They now followed his lead of respectful confidence.

All except Issac.

Issac fell to one of his downswings, outside of his typical nature. No out of line speaking, no inappropriate staring where he shouldn't, no overactive moving. Instead, he withdrew. No words, ignoring other students, always looking away. He declined to participate in activities, even the ones he would normally like. No amount of convincing seemed to work.

Someone who refused to look past the surface would probably see a defiant child. Maybe they would become frustrated and take it as rebellion against his authority, a child that needs to learn his place. But Garret knew better. And there was no better time than now to understand him.

-

Recess was time, and Issac, unsurprisingly, did not want to participate once again. Participate with other children. Garret then let the other teachers know he would stay behind today to 'have a word about his attitude'. Interesting how that worked. Everyone was always so willing to encourage scolding and punishment from behavior that was so doubtlessly a cry for help.

Issac sat alone at his desk. Garret, being too large for a child's seat, rested on top of the desk adjacent to his lone student.

"Issac," Garret pursued. "Do you know why you aren't happy today?"

The boy only shrugged, his gaze down to the floor.

"I think I know why."

"No you don't." Issac whispered.

"Is your brother, Joseph, picking you up from school today?"

The child's posture stiffened, confirming exactly what Garret thought. It was now, that could be everything. Now could dictate what could happen. Now that could help Issac, or leave him unseen.

"You don't want to go home with him, don't you?"

Issac's lips parted to speak, but stopped short. Instead, he shook his head no.

Garret nodded. "Does your mom work late? Or is Joseph doing it because mom is tired."

"She's tired. She's home today, but he's still going to pick me up."

Louise was fine with her 8-year-old waiting nearly an hour alone after school because it was more convenient to wait for the high-schooler to get out.

"But going home with him makes you anxious, doesn't it."

The child said nothing once again. He couldn't easily help if he wouldn't say anything. Garret knew how difficult it was to say what was so hard to keep in, but it was so important. Issac wouldn't know how important this was, not for a long time. But it was so very critical to say.

"I need you to tell me," Garret gently encouraged. "Does Joseph make you feel bad? When you're around him, do you feel icky and your stomach hurts?"

He nodded. "My mom says that's just what siblings are like," He glanced away again. "Sometimes big brothers are just like that."

"Sometimes, you're right. But sometimes people can do wrong things that make you feel bad. And it's not ok, even if they say it is."

Confusion made its way on Issac's face, and Garret knew he lost him a little bit.

"When I was young," He started again. "Sometimes bad things happened to me. Things that were wrong, but I didn't know they were wrong. I just knew it made me feel bad inside. The person who did these things told me it was ok and normal, that it was just a game, so I thought it was. Everyone made me think that no matter how bad I feel, nothing that happened to me was bad, because they're older and make the rules. Has that ever happened to you?"

Issac started to fidget in his seat again. But he nodded and now made eye contact.

Closer. Closer than where he started.

"Has Joseph ever been unfair to you and made you play a physical game you didn't want to do?"

"I'm not supposed to tell." The child nodded. "But it's not fair, they like Joseph better than me, he never gets in trouble."

"I promise, I'm safe to tell. If you tell me, you won't have to go home with your brother. But you have to be brave and trust me."

"Really?? I won't have to go?"

"You won't have to go." Garret reassured. "But you have to tell me what kind of games you don't want to play anymore."

"How am I going home?"

"When Joseph comes here, I will tell him no. I will tell him you refuse to go with him, and he'll go away until your mom comes to pick you up instead. And you're going to have to be strong because your mom won't be happy. You'll probably be in trouble, but it will keep you from going home with him today. And I promise you, I will make it better."

Issac pondered the scenario, the stress fractured on his face, considering what was said.

"I don't want to be in trouble." He shook.

"It's ok to choose that. But you need to decide this yourself. Will you go home with him, or your mom. Which will make you feel less bad?"

"I... I don't want to be in trouble."

Garret felt his progress slipping. He wasn't going to make Issac do anything he didn't want to do, but that meant even if the choice was worse for him.

"But-" Issac continued. "I don't want to go with him even worse."

A parent was so much to a child. It was natural instinct for the child to love them, to want them, to want to be loved by them. And to willing chose anger from that source of 'security', told Garret just how scared he was of the alternative.

"I'm proud of you, Issac. I know it's scary, and I know that was hard to decide."

Issac took a shaky breath. "But I'm ready now. I can tell you"

-

Garret did his best to remain calm. Keep composure, and don't let his emotions come undone. He couldn't let on just yet what he knew, but it boiled inside him. At one point in his childhood, this kind of information was just something that happened. Just an unfortunate thing he went through. But it was different now. Sometimes he let it get to him, sometimes it all bubbled over in ways he felt out of control.

But seeing it in someone else, in a child, was infinitely worse. Garret couldn't ever remember feeling like a child. The way he was, is the way he always has been in his head. But seeing it from the outside... It was nearly too much to handle. He didn't know what to do with all of the anger, heartache- The outrage. It was so much to bear, but he had to. Just a little longer. For Issac's sake.

With firmness, confidence, and a bit of presentation, Garret successfully denied Joseph for pick-up. He calmly stated that Issac refused, and would not see him. That no amount of asking could get the stubborn Issac to leave the classroom. There was arguing, attempted convincing, but he stayed in his position. He kept his rage silent, for the unfortunate truth still remained. Children who act out on other younger children, most often had it happen to themselves. And Joseph was forced to leave for home.

Just as planned, Louise arrived for her son.

"I'm so sorry," Louise rambled. "He normally leaves these little outbursts at home, I just don't get why he's doing it now,"

"Louise-" He stopped, preventing them from moving forward to the room Issac was waiting in. "Do you know if Joseph has done anything that would make Issac act this way?"

She shook her head, fake innocence coated in everything she preformed. "They fight like any normal family, but Joseph is a good boy."

"He has good college plans, yes? A scholarship plan?"

"That's right, he's very bright. I never could finish school, so it means everything to him that he can have a future."

And there it was. The pieces all began to fall into place. She was living a life she never could through her son, which meant this boy could do no wrong. Which meant nothing was going to get in the way of her 'second chance'.

"You'd do anything to get him into college, wouldn't you?"

"Of course, why wouldn't I?" Her brow lowered in suspicion.

"What if it was himself?" Garret couldn't help but to see right through her.

"I'm sorry?"

"What if it was his own decisions that prevented him from his future? Would you protect him from that?"

"I don't know what you mean, my boy's a good boy. Of course I'd protect him."

"Would if it was Issac that was in the way. Would you sacrifice that too?"

"I don't know what you're trying to say, but I really don't like it. Whatever you're trying to say about my son, is not what you think."

What about Issac

"And what about Issac? He's your son too."

She was willing to sacrifice her son for the future she never had. For a future she could only force herself to live through. Willfully ignoring the reality of what was happening for her own selfish fantasy.

"What about him? I'm actually taking him home. RIght now."

What about Issac

He gestured towards the door politely. "By all means. I'll hear from you soon, I imagine. Take care of yourself in the meantime."

And Garret meant it. She would be seeing him again, and it would be in court. She should take care while she can. The peace wouldn't last very much longer.

Garret had learned all he needed. He heard all he needed. And now Issac could get the help he needed. It was time to end the cycle.

[howtofightwrite]

Hello! Thanks for running this (very helpful) blog! So, if a character was to loose a decent ammount of blood (enough to make them loose conciousness, etc, but not actually die.) what would the recovery process for that look like? How long would they be unconcious? How soon would they be able to stand/move? The character in quesion is very physically fit, and the blood loss was due to a wound in the side/abdomen area via a sword, if that is relavent. Thanks for answering!

Probably never, barring necromancy.

So, loss of consciousness from blood loss usually means you've lost over two liters of blood. That's about 40% of the blood in your body. If you're loosing blood fast enough to pass out, chances are, without immediate medical attention, you're going to die.

Getting stabbed in the abdomen in a really bad wound. There's a lot of organs in there that are simultaneously vital for keeping you alive and healthy, but also exceptionally adept at killing you when abused. Your kidneys and liver are basically large repositories of blood waiting to end your life from internal hemorrhaging. Your intestines are just waiting to put you into septic shock and kill you if they're nicked by a blade. Your stomach is something you really don't want to see ruptured.

Lower abdominal wounds aren't just really dangerous, they're actually pretty nasty and graphic. This is a lot of stuff you do not want to damage. And will require some pretty advanced surgery to survive and recover.

So, stepping away from that for a moment, if a character suffers a wound, and is bleeding severely enough for them to lose consciousness at a relatively rapid pace, it will kill them. As mentioned earlier, losing more than about 2 liters will cause you to lose consciousness, but fatal bloodloss ranges from 2.5L to 4L lost (depending on the individual.) At best, they lost consciousness half-way to dying, and they will bleed out in roughly the same amount of time.

There's some potential situations, where the victim is able to seal off a wound in the field before passing out. For example, if they stabbed through the arm and had been losing blood, but had the presence of mind to cauterize the wound before losing consciousness, they might recover. (Though, this wouldn't apply to an abdominal wound.)

Multiple (relatively) minor wounds might be able clot, saving their life, even if the cumulative bloodloss would have been fatal eventually. This is especially true if they lose consciousness some time after the injuries. However, this is a somewhat artificial situation, because the character would need to lose enough blood to go into hypovolemic shock, while also managing the rate of bloodloss carefully enough as to avoid killing them. It could happen, I'm almost positive that it has happened, but engineering that situation is tricky.

Beyond that, it's worth remembering that hypovolemic shock is actually pretty debilitating long before you lose consciousness, slip into a coma and die.

(Keep in mind, these are modern medical terms and wouldn't apply in a fantasy setting.) Hypovolemia is grouped into 4 stages.

Stage 1 is up to 750mL lost. The victim will appear pale, but otherwise they're fin. They may feel terrible, and drained, but this is the stage where they're still functional.

Stage 2 is 750-1500mL, at this point the victim will start to experience anxiety, and they will start to experience mild tachycardia, and their respiration will increase.

Stage 3 is from 1500mL to 2L, and at this point the victim will start suffering serious cognitive impairment, they'll be confused, their heart rate will be roughly double what it should be, their respiration rate will be significantly increased.

With Stage 4, loss of consciousness, coma, death. Technically, you can be in stage 4 without losing consciousness. Though the mental state is not great. There's also more severe tachycardia, their skin may appear mottled (with some patches appearing completely drained of blood), breathing will be very rapid and shallow. This is someone who is dying and you can see it.

If you are losing a lot of blood, and you lose consciousness, it's over, you're dead. As a result, your body does everything it can to delay that from happening. Even by Stage 2, you're not going to be in fighting shape. You can't just keep fighting through that much bloodloss.

When it comes to recovery, there is a trick. Your body can produce plasma pretty quickly. You can recover the loss of 2L of blood in 24 to 48 hours, sort of. The problem is that your body is only producing plasma to bring the volume back up. Actually replacing the lost blood will take a lot longer. Probably 4 to 8 weeks, depending on the individual.

I'm not 100% sure what the symptoms would be for someone having that much plasma in their circulatory system. It wouldn't be life threatening, but would be unpleasant. I'm pretty sure fatigue, headaches, visual and auditory hallucinations are on the table, but I'd need to do a lot more digging into this specific situation to be completely certain. Regardless, symptoms would drop off pretty quickly over the weeks as their blood plasma levels evened out.

-Starke

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[earthnashes]

I got very longwinded so I put the rest under the Read More. But TL;DR of this post:

-Once my current queue is done, I will be taking an indefinite hiatus from accepting commissions. There will be exceptions in the form of sporadic specials and Patreon-exclusive slot openings.

-There will be a “final hurrah” special I will very likely hold for maybe a month before that hiatus comes into play. Will be the final time I will accept commissions before hiatus.

-Hiatus will be spent focused on personal projects, overall art improvement, and content creation. I miss making headcanons as often as I did, man. ;w;

-Hiatus will, at most, last for the rest of 2023. More likely, though, it’ll last for a few months, but regular commissions will return with certainty uwu

So ye! :)

But if you want the long version...

This week is Deload week for training before my PR tests, which means I am taking a recovery period from weightlifting before I go back to hit them goal numbers hard as I can. And with it comes a coincidental introspective on my career as a freelance artist so far.

When May rolls around, it’d be 4 years since I quit my day job and took on commissions as my official primary means of income, and making my art my near entire source of income. I’ve definitely taken commissions long before that, but it was very much both amateur and part-time for the most part with my focus being elsewhere: either on school, or a job.

4 years of being able to independently live on my own thanks to the support I receive from everyone is more than I can ask for. But it is also a decent amount of time to be drawing for others!

Lemme counter that though by saying I’m not actually sad or upset about it or like. Need any sort of condolences or anything of that sort. Quite the contrary; I love doing commissions! Money is a factor in it, yeah, I’d be a fucking liar if it wasn’t; I have to eat and pay those pesky bills to make art. But a large part of why I love commissions is because I very much enjoy drawing for people. To me, being given a commission is being given the permission and trust to handle a small fragment of the person with care. I’m given a glimpse into who the person is, what they like, what stories they have to tell. So I try to give them my best foot forward and produce a piece they’ll enjoy. I personally find the entire process of creating for others very sweet and fun and it makes me happy that I’m allowed the honor of drawing for someone. :)

But through a lot of trial and error I’ve also come to remember how much I enjoy drawing for myself too, and how much I miss it. I don’t really draw for myself much anymore. I don’t really have the time to, mainly, but that’s largely my own doing. Past rookie stumbles biting me in the ass, living and learning. ;w; But I’m only bringing it up now because I am finally getting fucking close to finishing the queue I have, and with it comes the decision of taking an indefinite hiatus away from taking commissions.

The hiatus will at minimum be a couple of months, but I’m hoping I’ll be able to take it for the rest of the year. Got a lot of plannin’ to do if I intend on taking it that long! One such thing is doing a “last hurrah” special. The commissions will have to be simple and small so I don’t like, destroy myself in the process, but the idea is to take as many simplistic commissions as I can before I go into hiatus. It’ll be the official final time I’ll accept orders on mass before it’ll become very sporadic at best, at least until I bring the hiatus to an end.

Another is finally making an official store front for merch. Already have ideas of what I’d offer; most of them will be small and relatively cheap, and others would be like P2U designs and refs you could use for OCs ;w;

Lastly is more time spent on energy toward my Patreon and streaming; more early access, more character requests, more comics, so on and so forth. uwu

---

But ye! In closing, I’m just lettin’ my brain do the big think and I wanted to let ya’ll know the basic going’s on. As such, as you can imagine I will likely not be terribly active with art posting for the next few weeks ;w; I’ll still be around if you have questions and what not, but ye! Sorry for talking you ear off, and if you made it this far, you should treat yourself no cap. Thank you so much everyone, I’ll talk to ya soon! owo

[the-final-sif]

Going back to my "c!Dream is possessed by a dreamon but neither of them know what they're doing AU" I wanted to clarify some things.

First and foremost, is that both Dream and the Dreamon are in a state of "I didn't think I'd get this far".

The Dreamon has never had someone try to combat it by severing ties before, and frankly, it doesn't know what to do. As mentioned previously it really doesn't want to be exposed as Dream has managed to convince it that his friends are capable of trapping it in Limbo. But it also isn't actually great at social interaction so it doesn't know how to mend Dream's relationships.

Meanwhile, Dream is over here making up bullshit on the fly with 10% of the information and no impluse control. He is astounding at the amount of lying he has managed to get away with.

Now it's worth noting here that as an Admin, Dream is fucking weird. He's very powerful and skilled, but he uses all of that power and skill to run a backwater near vanilla server for like 20 people.

Although when I say skilled, I mean Skilled in the way of a self-taught programer whose never had to do code review even once. Does it work? Yes. Exceptionally well. Could any other human being understand it? No. Not for a second.

He can create stuff on the fly though, even complicated ideas.

Like, for example, a god.

Or a weird, vague death system.

Or another dimension inaccessible without that weird death system.

Yeah, so basically c!Dream totally made up the idea of canon deaths and limbo, and then used DreamXD to implement them.

Oh, yeah, right, DreamXD!

So what's up with this guy?

Well, the long and the short of it is Dream created him.

XD was a server process (visualized as little dream blobs), specifically the server process that prevented End portals from activating. "XD" was just his designation.

Early on in his possession, Dream managed to wrench back enough control to have a few minutes in the meat suit. He used this time to collect a buclet of milk and call XD to him.

The he did something that any reasonable admin would call "batshit insane" and "utterly irresponsible".

Going off what he knew (the end poem and basically nothing else), he turned XD into a player of sorts. He used the milk as raw material to give XD a body, and then he fractured off a part of his own "soul" to give XD proper life.

Specifically, he gave XD a large part of all of his memories of loving & caring for the members of the server. How he became friends with them, and that desire to protect them. He gave XD a concept of love, and then he gave him three more things.

Admin abilities came next, transfering near full control of the server to XD and blocking c!Dream out of almost everything.

Second, he gave XD his mission. "Keep them free. Keep them safe. Try not to get hurt, if you can. After I change back, you'll need to stay away from me."

Finally, he was able to give XD a rough breakdown of how the death system needed to work (a quarantined dimension with time flowing differently to disrupt the infection capability of the Dreamon), but by then the Dreamon had finally managed to get some control back.

XD left with his new mission, a barely stable mess of code with plenty of internal conflict between his initial status as a pure program and now his new status as a player.

For quite awhile, XD sits back and watches. He takes the time to learn more, about what it even means to be free. About what it means to love others, what it means to be safe.

Finally, he starts interacting when Wilbur and Schlatt "die" (in reality, both were very susceptible to the Dreamon's infections due to their compromised mental states and required time away to recovery before they hit the critical point.)

XD starts out rather shy but gets steadily bolder as time wears on and he gets more comfortable with human interaction and begins to develop his own personality.

Also he still protects the end, even if the portals wouldn't work anyways. Because!! That's his first job!! It's in his nature!!! Go away Technoblade!!!

XD is an absolute mess, but he's trying his very best! He has very complicated jobs, with no easy answers, but he's working at it!

c!Dream is very proud of him. The Dreamon fucking hates him.

Oh speaking of c!Dream, he retains two admin abilities, both of which the Dreamon cannot access due to the complexity of them

First, resurrection. (This is actually just a teleportation command, shhhh)

Second, for various reasons he needed to retain the ability to alter player code. Mostly to enable resurrection, but he figures out it can also be used to alter/block memories to some extent.

The Dreamon really wants access to these abilties, unfortunately, despite it's best efforts it's unable to understand c!Dream's weird spaghetti code.

I feel like I should probably explain Ranboo's role in this AU soon, because he is a central figure, but like, I'm not sure if people are emotionally ready for that mess so I'll leave it for now.

[wolferine]

Heart Skips a Beat - Part 2

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Summary: Natasha faces her worst nightmare when a rescue mission goes wrong…

Warnings: Violence, blood

Word Count: 1837

Part 1

Tags: @blkmxrvel @blackxwidowsxwife @marvelwomen-simp

When Natasha sees your eyes close, she finally comes back to her senses. She squirms away from Steve, crawling under an ambulance and making her way towards you. She ignores Steve telling her to stay put and doesn’t hear Clint telling police officers the direction the bullets came from. All she can think about is bringing you to safety.

The ambulance engine is still running, causing its underside to reach temperatures that make Natasha feel like she is hiding in a furnace. She holds her breath from the fumes as she crawls to the front of the vehicle, throwing her arm out and reaching for your hand.

“Y/N!” she screams. “I’m right here! Hold on!” Her fingertips brush yours and she grabs onto your wrist tightly. You’re bigger and heavier than her, but the adrenaline gives her strength. With a massive heave, she drags you under the ambulance. You smear through the puddle of your own blood and it soaks through the back of your shirt. 

There isn’t even enough room for her to lift her head, but she grabs onto both your arms, digging her elbows into the ground and crawling backwards. “I got you, Y/N. I got you,” she pants. But the lack of space and your deadweight make it impossible for her to pull you all the way through, so she backs out from under the ambulance. “Steve, help me!” she shouts.

“Move!” Steve says to her, although his shoulders are too broad to fit in the narrow gap. However, his arms are long enough to reach both of your hands, and all it takes is one big tug for you to come sliding out from the ambulance. 

Your eyes fly open suddenly, awakened by the agonizing pain coursing through your shoulder like a lightning bolt. You scream, and as much as it makes Natasha’s heart hurt, she’s glad to see that you’re still alive. 

“You guys need to get out of here right now!” Clint yells. “Take the ambulance!”

Steve pulls you into a standing position and wraps his arms around your waist, lifting you onto his shoulders effortlessly. You flop over him like a ragdoll, pain pulsing in your stomach when you bump against his chest.

BOOM.

A bullet shatters the sideview mirror of the ambulance.

“Go, go!” Natasha urges, putting herself between the danger and you and Steve. Steve runs with you to the back of the ambulance and flings the door open. There is no gurney, so Natasha helps him lay you on the floor and climbs in after you.

“Stay with Y/N. I’ll drive,” Steve offers, going around to the front. “Clint, we’re taking Y/N to the Quinjet! Hold the scene down!”

“Copy that!” Clint is just as concerned for your safety, but he knows you’re in good hands. Steve jumps into the driver’s seat and throws the ambulance in reverse.

BOOM.

The windshield explodes.

“Let’s go!” Natasha screams, ducking her head.

“Hold on!” Steve backs into a sharp U-turn. The tires screech as they find traction on the road to accelerate forward.

Natasha practically lays on top of you to prevent you from rolling around. From a shelf, she grabs a handful of gauze packets, tearing them open with her teeth. She rips your shirt open and presses the gauze first to your shoulder, then another to the side of your stomach. You’re completely soaked in blood and it continues to pump out of you with each heartbeat. Your face has faded to a sickly pale. 

“N-Nat,” you whisper, trying to move but pinned down by the pain. “N-Nat—”

“Shh, it’s okay,” she comforts. “Just keep your eyes open for me, okay?”

You see the blood smeared on her face, her neck, and her hands, too delirious to remember that it’s yours. “A-Are you h-hurt?” you stammer.

Natasha wants to laugh and cry at the same time. You’re so in love with her that even in the face of death you don’t even think about yourself. “No, I’m fine,” she says, grabbing onto your hand and interlocking your fingers. She looks over at Steve, veering through parked cars and roadblocks. “Can we hurry it up a little?” she asks in panic, even though she knows he’s driving as fast as he can.

“I’m trying!” Steve swerves around a fire hydrant and the sudden movement jolts everyone in the ambulance. Natasha presses down on you too hard and you grunt in pain.

“I’m sorry,” she apologizes. “We’re almost there. We’re almost there.”

Your vision fades into fuzzy shapes and blurred colors. Even breathing seems to be too much of a task for you. Steve parks behind the Quinjet and comes around to help carry you in.

“Do you need me to go with you?” Steve asks as he lays you across the back seats of the Quinjet.

“No.” Natasha shakes her head. “Stay and help Barton.”

Steve doesn’t even try to argue. “We’ll find who did this, Nat. I promise.” He goes to the controls at the front and presses a few buttons. “The coordinates for the Tower are set. You’ll autopilot all the way there. Just make sure to update the medical team on Y/N’s condition.”

“Thanks, Steve.”

“Everything will be okay.” He places his hand on Natasha’s shoulder for a moment before jogging back to the ambulance. As soon as he’s off the Quinjet, the door raises shut and the engines blast on. You’re several states away from New York, but at the speeds the plane can travel, you should be there in minutes. You just have to hang on until then.

Natasha leaves your side only to grab more gauze, pressing it against your bullet wounds to slow the bleeding. She rolls you to your side so there’s no pressure on your front or back, but grimaces when she sees that your back looks as bad as your front.

“N-Nat,” you try whispering again, but she is quick to shush you.

“Not now, okay? Just stay awake for me, Y/N.”

You’ve never felt so weak before. It feels like you were hit by a bus and ground up by its tires. Your mind processes in slow-motion—probably a side effect of the blood loss—and you already forgot how you got into the Quinjet. But the physical pain isn’t your greatest concern anymore. You just don’t want to lose your fight and leave her.

Natasha fits an oxygen mask around your face and the cool air is comforting, but you know your time is ticking away. You don’t notice the Quinjet hiss to a landing or acknowledge the team of doctors suddenly hovering over you.

“We’ll do the surgery in room six!”

“Prep a blood transfusion!”

“Two gunshot wounds from a large-caliber gun!”

The doctors move you to a gurney and wheel you off the Quinjet. Natasha holds onto your hand as they take you to the surgery room, but a doctor stops her from entering with you.

“No, Romanoff. You gotta stay out here. We’ll take it from here.”

Natasha doesn’t fight back, letting your fingers slip through hers as you disappear behind the doors.

***********************************************************************

“Any updates?” Clint and Steve finally arrive a few hours later, but you’re still in surgery.

“Not yet.” Natasha paces the kitchen anxiously. Although she found the time to wash your blood off her hands and face, she hasn’t changed out of her uniform yet.

“Nat, you should get cleaned up. Y/N isn’t going anywhere,” Clint says.

“I know, I just…I want to be there when—” She can’t finish her sentence, falling into Clint’s arms and crying into his shoulder.

“Y/N is a fighter, remember?” Clint says, rubbing her back.

“But the amount of blood—”

“Super soldiers don’t go down easy,” Steve reminds her. “Y/N will pull through. And besides, you’ll be there to help with the recovery.”

Natasha nods, pulling away from Clint and wiping her face. “I’m sorry I froze when I saw Y/N get shot—”

“What are you apologizing for?” Clint asks.

“I don’t know—I put you all in danger because I couldn’t get myself out of the way—” she hiccups. 

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Steve assures. “In fact, you were the one who dragged Y/N to safety, remember? I couldn’t fit under the ambulance and Clint was just sitting around like a duck—”

“Excuse you,” Clint interrupts, and Natasha smiles thinly.  

“So, did you find who did this?” she asks.

“Uh—” Clint and Steve look at each other awkwardly. “Natasha, we—”

“Did you find them?” Natasha repeats with more force. Clint motions for Steve to explain.

“That’s the thing,” Steve says. “We don’t know who did this. We scoped out the whole area with the police. We went out more than a mile, but we couldn’t find anything. No shell casings, nothing.”

“Oh, so you’re telling me a ghost shot and tried to kill Y/N?” Natasha scoffs.

“No, we…” Steve tries to find the right words. “We think it was a setup, maybe like a hired assassin or something.”

“Who would want to kill Y/N?” Natasha asks.

“That’s what we need to figure out.”

Natasha knows you have a lot of baggage from your past, particularly when you were forced into illegal covert operations by the government. But it’s been a long time since then. You became your own person and changed your life for the better. Unfortunately, not everyone sees the side of you that Natasha and the Avengers do.

When Clint and Steve leave to shower and change, Natasha finally does the same. She dresses in clean clothes and curls up on your shared bed, inhaling your scent through the pillow and blankets.

Sometime later, Clint visits and knocks on the door. “Hey, Nat? Y/N just got out of surgery—” He doesn’t even get a chance to finish his sentence and is almost run over by Natasha as she hurries over to the medical bay. She doesn’t know which specific room they’re keeping you in, but it’s like she’s drawn to your very presence and finds the correct one instantly.

You lie upright in the bed, propped forward with pillows so there’s less pressure on your back. Your right arm is in a sling and your entire torso is wrapped in bandages. An IV drip leads into the veins on your hand, while a blood pouch sends blood into the vein inside of your elbow. You have an oxygen tube up your nose and looped around your ears.

“I heard the doctor went a little overboard on the anesthesia,” Clint says from behind Natasha, startling her. “You know, with the super soldier serum and everything. Y/N will probably be out of it for a while.” Natasha walks to your side and kneels, gently taking your hand. Your skin is clammy and colder than normal, but your pulse beats strongly.

“I’ll be here as long as it takes.” Natasha raises your hand, mindful of the wires around your wrist, and kisses your fingers.

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

Click here for Part 3!

AN: Thanks for the amazing support from everyone! Definitely didn’t think I’d get that kind of response, but I’m extremely grateful for you all. The next part will reveal the identity of the shooter, so I hope you’ll stick around for that. :) Peace out!

[rwby-redux]

Random thought but I've decided to ask about how dental hygiene works on Remnant. Does your aura protect your teeth from getting cavities or not?

The short answer is no, Aura is not a failsafe against cavities. So don’t shirk brushing and flossing your teeth!

The long answer has to do with the minimal threshold Aura operates under, and how the healing factor detects and responds to perceived injuries.

Everyone who has an active Aura has a reservoir: the amount of Aura at their disposal. Some people, like Jaune, have an uncommonly large reservoir. Most folks operate within a finite range that needs recharging between uses. Specific tasks or functions—like healing, for example—require a certain amount of “energy” to be pulled off. Healing a paper cut takes significantly less energy than, say, patching up a first-degree burn.

There are also certain types of injuries whose energy demands exceed what an Aura can supplement/provide. This sort of loosely correlates with how bodies naturally heal on their own. Like, a light scrape on your knee is going to probably heal faster than a cut on your hand that requires stitches. Ergo, a scraped knee will take less Aura to heal. While an Aura can definitely speed up that recovery time, or hell, repair certain minor injuries outright without medical intervention, there are limits to what it can do.

Extensive or severe injuries often have steep Aura requirements that surpass what’s in a person’s reservoir, making healing them functionally impossible. Think third-degree burns, amputations, impalement, and severe poisoning. Trying to use your Aura to heal any of these would not only likely deplete it, but you could end up doing even worse damage to yourself in the process.

If someone tried to use their Aura on a fractured bone without correctly realigning the pieces, they run the risk of it healing incorrectly. Reduction is extremely important for repairing a fracture—it’s why people usually need casts, plates, or screws to hold the pieces together. Aura doesn’t have the ability to align the bone. It would simply try to replicate the natural healing process at an expedited rate—blood clotting, collagen layering, bone mineralization—and in doing so, not only deplete itself in the process, but cause a malunion.

The reason why Aura can’t do much to prevent or heal cavities is because of similar underlying constraints. Teeth have very little in the way of self-repair capabilities. Technically, while odontoblasts can lay down secondary and tertiary dentin in response to tooth decay, the enamel layer can’t regenerate due to the absence of ameloblasts. Teeth can only patch up small amounts of wear and tear, because they’re largely composed of inorganic, acellular material.

Simply put, Aura can’t create new enamel because your body can’t create new enamel. The healing factor might be able to coax your teeth to produce secondary dentin, but they can’t fix extensive damage to the crown.

TL;DR - The healing factor is limited by biological constraints. Even if you have a huge surplus of Aura, there are certain things it just can’t do. Best stick to fluoride toothpaste for now.

As a side note, part of a Huntsman's training covers this topic pretty in-depth! After all, the last thing you want is for a scared and panicking Huntsman to try and heal an injury that's beyond their capabilities.

[willadisatercrywrites]

Hi! I'm not sure if you've done this yet but I'm writing a story where one of the characters gets a large gash in their side/stomach area. Not totally sure how to write for that, if you have any pointers that would be awesome! Thanks!

a whump writing question, finally!

quick writing tips for

minor abdominal trauma:

things to keep in mind regarding the immediate effects of what i’m assuming would be a shallow flesh wound/graze are mobility and pain threshold :

the injured character will have difficultly moving very quickly (motions that involve bending down, stretching up, reaching out, and literally just walking fast will fatigue them and cause them pain). assuming it’s only penetrated the first layers of skin, fatty tissue, and muscle, you can think of it like the worst running cramp of your life concentrated to one very specific area but also stinging like hell and actively bleeding.

the character will not easily forget about this pain, so you can write about them hissing after turning too quickly, pausing for a breather every now and then, groaning because they can’t suck in the proper amount of air it would take to scream when they stood up from a chair they’d been sitting in for a while, etc.

think of how you might hold your breath or sit very carefully because of how badly you have to pee and would like to avoid putting pressure on your bladder. this is a good opportunity to ramp up the drama or pose a particularly cruel challenge for the character to endure something or keep up the masquerade of hiding their injury from someone.

any significant cut on the stomach will most definitely burn, the area immediately around it likely to feel tender, swollen, and tight, and the edges of one that is significant in width or length can pull apart depending on the movement which would be very uncomfortable. properly binding the wound with stitches, surgical tape, or surgical glue is the most obvious way to jumpstart healing, but it will also lessen the discomfort of a wound covering a large and very inconvenient area.

as for going without proper medical treatment, the character will be in a great deal of pain and would not be very useful, but assuming no major organs or arteries were nicked and some sort of pressure/bandage is being held against the wound site to stem the blood flow, then they can technically hold out as long as needed. they will crash at some point though so don’t stretch the timeline too far.

being constantly aware of the wound and how best to avoid aggravating it would be exhausting for the character on top of the adrenaline comedown and recovery process from the wound in the first place. they will have little energy, experience the lingering effects of blood loss for the next few days (dizziness, lethargy, headaches, nausea), and likely have lots of frustration over the ordeal since they’re technically fine enough to not be bedridden but still aren’t at 100%.

you can write them having an outburst at an unsuspecting person that might just be trying to help and then having to sit down while the blood rushing to their head settles, or them falling asleep in odd places and feeling really confused/dejected upon waking up, maybe even them stumbling and having to catch themselves on the nearest wall because they’ve worked their body past its limit and nearly passed out.

this is a great spot for an emotional low point where the character might hit a kind of rock bottom and be forced to finally ask for help or to finally take a break for once, it might also be a good place to add hiccoughs in the characters plan/journey to their goal which would create lots of tension because they wouldn’t be able to address any of them until they were healed.

i hope that was helpful!!

and i’d love to check out what you end up with, happy writing ;)

[ghostonly]

FTM Top Surgery Q&A - Installment #4

4-Week Post-Op Recovery and Progress

Welcome to installment #4! If you're new here, I'm currently working on a Q&A / Series combo where I outline my experience with FTM top surgery as a large, disabled guy with ADHD and low income. I'll also answer any questions sent in to me. Currently, I haven't received any questions. If you have any now or when you're done reading this post, feel free to send them to me. I'll be taking questions all the way until May of 2023, when the series should be wrapping up.

If you want to know more about the series, check out the announcement here or visit the installment masterlist here.

If you haven't read the previous installments, I recommend you do, as I'll be introducing terminology there that will be used in this installment.

In this installment, I'll be covering the healing and recovery progress of weeks 3 and 4. This will include the removal of stitches, incision tape, and drains as well as scar care and so on.

Under the cut, there are photos showing the surgical site before it's completely healed. If you're sensitive to scars, injury, blood, or other things that go along with surgery, please continue with caution or let me know you'd like a copy of my commentary without the images.

Various Removals

On day 1 of week 3, I had my 2-week follow-up. This was a very exciting appointment, because it meant getting the rest of the shit attached to me removed!

Tbh, while I was excited to have that over with, I was pretty scared of it hurting and, honestly, with good reason. I'm not going to sugar coat this.

Stitch Removal

The first thing to be removed were the non-dissolvable stitches. There were two on the inside ends of my incisions (I think to hold the ends of the drains tubes in place) and a bunch around the outside of my nipples.

The stitches being removed hurt pretty bad. Someone tugging at plastic stitching that's wound under your skin does not feel great. This is the first time I've had stitches at an age where I remember them, so I didn't know what to expect. I think my expectations were pretty accurate though. The pains were sharp and uh... spicy, you could say.

Incision Tape Removal

So, the stitches coming out didn't feel great. However, the incision tape removal was the worst. Straight up, this was the most painful part of the entire surgery process.

The skin under where I used to have breasts is extremely fragile. Firstly because I probably have EDS, so my skin is wimpy and fragile anyway. Secondly because that fragility in combination with having had large boobs that sweat and chafe meant that that crease of skin was constantly getting damaged from being too dry or too moist combined with friction. It's like raw, underdeveloped skin covered in crepe paper, to paint a vivid picture.

The adhesive on the incision tape is extremely sticky and extremely strong. It's basically glue. I was already tensed up from having the pain of the stitch removal, and then they had to take the tape off.

We can assume each incision is roughly 10 inches long. With no pain meds, no numbing, no anesthetic, I had to sit there for a solid 30 seconds straight while a nurse on either side of me pulled the tape off. I don't know if I've ever sworn that many times for that long of a time in my life.

I would not feel remiss comparing it to torture. They took off at least the top layer of skin (not to the point that it was raw underneath, but it generally hurts to have any amount of skin removed from a layer beneath it if its not totally dead, you feel me?), and in many speck-sized spots, it came off to the raw level. And I just had to sit there and let them.

My chest felt raw and sore for hours after. If you get a prescription for something strong like oxycodone-acetaminophine, save one. Take it a couple of hours before you're scheduled to get your incision tape off. I doubt it will prevent it from hurting like a bitch, but it might do a little something.

-9999/10, would not recommend

Drain Removal

Directly after the tape, it was time for them to remove the drains. You can imagine how I felt about that, having just gone through a straight minute or so of various tortures.

"It's not going to hurt."

Okay, like I haven't heard that before.

It didn't hurt.

I didn't even feel it to be honest. She told me to take a deep breath on the count of 3 and then they both pulled one of the drains out. If there was any sensation at all, I didn't notice it - probably because I was still focused on the burning across the surface of my chest. And the relief was immediate. Like, if we ignore the terrible tape pain, the drains coming out immediately had me feeling better.

Movement and Pain Changes in Week 3

Week 3 was amazing. Started out shitty with the tape removal, but getting all the extra crap off of me made everything so much more comfortable.

Week 3 is when I started to get back to a feeling of Normal in terms of movement and pain. I still occasionally got twinges in my nipples from reaching too far, but I got back to an almost normal range of motion, was able to start sleeping on my sides without the drains causing pain, and resume most of the activity I was doing before surgery (please note this is only because I am not a very active person. Please don't go to the gym or something at week 3 lol)

Chest Upkeep

After everything came off, a new bit of upkeep was added to my routine: bacitracin. On top of using Vaseline gauze on my nipples, I then had to start applying bacitracin (an antibacterial ointment) to my incision 3-5 times a day. It sounds like a lot and like it would be hard to remember but, I actually didn't have a hard time remembering. I didn't count how many times per day I did it, but it was easy to remember to do it repeatedly. Every time the bacitracin dried out/fully absorbed (into either my skin or the bra I was wearing) my chest felt a bit more stiff and uncomfortable. Applying more moistened everything again and made it feel better.

They didn't tell me to, but I found it was also helpful to apply some of the ointment on top of the nipple gauze. Because the gauze is just one layer of meshy material, the ointment goes right through it pretty much, so you can moisturize your nipples and also protect them from bacteria without having to remove the gauze. (There's not necessarily a reason not to remove the Vaseline gauze. I just didn't want to mess with it more than necessary.)

The addition of the ointment on the gauze also helped to kind of re-adhere it to my chest since every few hours is enough time for the edges to dry out and start to come up a bit with any movement that leads to bra/chest friction.

Binder Usage

Because the pain went down so dramatically with the drains gone, the idea of wearing the binder for 6 weeks, as the doctor wanted, became a much more tolerable idea. The pressure and stability is nice most of the time.

However, as much as I wanted to avoid unnecessary swelling that could occur if I don't wear the binder as long as instructed, at the beginning of week 4, I stopped wearing it.

The reason why is because of the construction of the binder. So, you know how it's made up of long, narrow panels that are heavily stitched together? Well, the stitching between the panels began to loosen from use, leaving a gap of a few millimeters between the two panels on one of my half-binders. When pulled across my chest, the panels not being directly next to each other led to higher tension at the center where the panels were separated which, in turn, led to painful imprints right across my nipples and incisions. Not only did this hurt a lot, it seemed like it could cause problems with healing.

So, week 4 being the week where I began to actually feel pretty close to normal, I just said fuck it and stopped wearing it.

Chest Protection Without the Binder

I didn't want to just go from all to nothing. My chest still felt a bit uh... operated on. That is to say, accidental chafing, scratching, or interference with foreign objects scared me still.

So, while I stopped wearing the binder, I did keep wearing my flat-fronted sports bras, which was also good for keeping the gooey bacitracin ointment from getting on my blankets and clothes.

Movement and Pain Changes in Week 4

With the binder out of the picture, everything became even nicer. My range of motion was almost entirely back to normal. Lifting my arms fully up was still a bit too much tension on the ends of my incisions, but they can almost get there.

The twinges in my nipples had stopped by this point. However, the feeling was slowly returning to the incision/scar area. This felt a bit bruise like and didn't feel super nice to touch a bunch, but wasn't much of a bother.

Everyday Changes

Without the binder on, I could wear t-shirts without it being noticeable that there was anything under them anymore, which was super nice!

I went to the grocery store for the first time after surgery and it was unbelievable being able to walk around and focus on things other than my chest, which has been my biggest source of dysphoria.

Scar Healing Progress

Week 3 - 5/11, 5/14, 5/17

Week 4 - 5/20, 5/22, 5/24

Questions for the Future

There are a few things I'm wondering about that I won't be able to find out until some more time has passed.

Do wrinkles near the scar go away?

I assume most of the small wrinkles will smooth out a bit over time. However, I am a little bit concerned about this one (perspective from my POV, looking down):

The wrinkle in the middle of this picture is pretty raised because there was a wider piece of skin above the stitches than below. I wonder if my body will figure out how to shrink that down or if it will look like this forever. I guess we'll see!

Will my nipples become cold sensitive again?

I've been wondering, also, if my nipples will become sensitive to cold again and harden/raise from that, or if they'll remain in this kind of in-between state where they're not flat but they're not hard either. At the moment, they're a bit raised but also totally squishy lol. It's a bit weird, but not a bad thing I suppose

Will this shape be grounds for a revision?

And, finally, something I will probably get an answer to at my 6-week follow-up: is the pointed shape at the back end of my left incision grounds for a revision?

You can see this very clearly in the front-facing picture in the last set. Perhaps not enough fat was taken out there and the skin wasn't cut and pulled tight enough before stitching, so it sticks out weirdly. I'm not really a fan. If it was just an appearance thing, it would be bothersome enough, but I can also feel it and bump into it when moving my left arm. I'm kind of hoping I can get that fixed, as much as I don't relish another operation any time soon.

Here's what it looks like from my POV with my arm down:

Well, that's it for weeks 3 and 4!

I'll leave u with another flat and happy selfie from after my shower the other day

As always, thanks for reading and here's a link back to the masterlist.

[nathanielbuildsatesseract]

Ended up taking a bit of an accidental Tumblr hiatus because I wanted to keep up the tradition of doing a big post upon hitting a big round number, and was too busy/preoccupied with work and more interesting hobbies to get around to it. The result was enlightening. I had suspected lots of other people I liked left Tumblr (and other social media sites) because they got lives, and now that I’m finally getting some vague semblance of a life, I find myself doing the same. Underrated experience, honestly.

I’m still wasting a large amount of time online (mostly on Twitter, though if current trends continue it’ll finally die and we’ll be free of that particular source of inanity), but the dopamine hit addiction cycle seems to be breaking down a bit. Not fast enough for my liking, mind you, but it is happening. Having work I can do is a very different dynamic than being in school or a job I dislike. Making a few meatspace friends and having coworkers who talk also changes things. A big factor in my social media usage (and that of plenty of others) is trying to get the benefits of socialization without the costs we’ve incurred before. I don’t think this is an effective strategy anymore. It worked once, but died for me around the time everything else started going to hell (i.e., Q3 2016). I’d do better to focus on other avenues.

Some of this is just the passage of time. I’m not getting any younger. I suspect a great many of our social pathologies stem simply from the fact that human lives are so damn short. If we can slay the dragon, maybe we’ll get over our collective trauma from it, but it’ll be a slow process. Maybe I should write a science fiction story about it. Immortality would actually be very nice, but in the meantime, we have to content with the conditionality of our existence. If a strategy isn’t working, it’s time to drop it and try something else.

No, I’m not going anywhere. I still get value from this site. There’s fandom content and interesting discussions and friends I want to keep in touch with. But having basically dropped it for a fortnight with very little internal resistance, it seems much easier to just...not log in, for days at a time. I find I enjoy the site better that way, anyway. Coming back after a hiatus, or using it in moderation while accomplishing things elsewhere, has reliably proven itself the most rewarding strategy.

In related news, I’m making strides editing my 2021 NaNoWriMo story and finally got unstuck on my thesis. That’s on top of getting trained up at work, where I’m finally making the engineering contributions I’ve dreamed of making for literally two decades now. This year I learned that I’m just not cut out to be an astronaut (the APD is enough to effectively disqualify me), but designing spacecraft is more fun to me than operating them. Someday, probably soon, more regular people than supermen will be going to space. I’m contributing to that, in my own small way, and that makes me happy.

Getting out of bed in the morning is still a challenge—I do hate the experience of waking up—but I’m no longer totally fighting against facing the day. I guess the story here is about incremental recovery from depression. It’s been a long nine years. I don’t have a magic solution, and the mechanistic solutions that worked for me would have worked a hell of a lot sooner if our culture was more rational. But if the sanity waterline were high, I probably never would have fallen into depression in the first place.

Ad astra per aspera. We’ll get there eventually, one step at a time, as long as we don’t destroy ourselves first. I’m worried about that, worried as hell, but there’s not much I can do besides more of the same. Spread truth and virtue, create a better world, and squeeze very drop of potential and joy from these hairless apes. It’s not necessarily easy, but it’s far more pleasant than the alternatives.

[white-hemlock]

For @drarrymicrofic

Prompt: First Time (am I late?)

Words: 3 238 (micro lol)

He woke up at the sound of people arguing. He couldn’t make out much though. Pain was coursing through his entire body. His head in particular.

He felt someone moving by his side and soon after the pain began to fade away.

"You have to leave. I'll come back later to inform you of his condition but right now I need to take care of my patient."

"I have been waiting for twenty hours. Twenty hours! You had plenty of time to inform me. So if you want me to leave this room you will have to give me answers, and satisfying ones. Otherwise you can be sure I'll be in your way until I lose it and finally strangle you!"

He opened his eyes. He saw two men in front of him. The one with the white coat and tired and disapproving look was obviously a doctor. The other one was tall with short blond hair and a very classy suit. The doctor noticed that he was awake and gave the other man an even more disapproving look.

"Mr Potter, I apologize for the noise. I'll lead Mr Malfoy to the exit and be back for you."

But the so-called Mr Malfoy was already by his side: "How do you feel?"

He looked at him for a few seconds, trying to figure out what was going on: "I'm fine but who are you?"

The man raised an eyebrow and gave him a look of pure confusion.

The doctor sighed: "That is precisely why I wanted to speak to you before allowing you to see him... Mr Potter, you had a serious accident. We believe that the trauma on your head may have resulted in a partial, if not total, memory loss."

He paused, allowing the two men in front of him to assimilate his words.

"Can you tell us what you remember?"

He opened his mouth to answer. But the words didn't come and he closed it. He couldn't think of anything. It was not really a blank. He felt as if the memories were right there but as soon as he wanted to grab one, it eluded.

Feeling his confusion, the doctor tried to help him: "Can you tell us your name?"

That should have been easy. But again, it slipped away. So, in embarrassment, he replied: "You called me Mr Potter."

The man at his side snorted and with a cold and most unpleasant voice he hurled: "If this is a joke, you'd better put an end to this because it really doesn't amuse me and you might not like the consequences."

He started to feel irritated by the way this man was behaving. He was arrogant and presumptuous, nothing very likable.

"I'm afraid this is no joke… Sir, your name is Harry Potter, you are 34 years old, you work as an Auror and were injured on duty. The man by your side is your husband. " He paused, aware of the awkwardness of the situation. "Now rest assured we will do everything to assist you in your recovery. There are many ways to help people suffering from amnesia. But for the moment, you need to rest. Mr Malfoy, please follow me."

Harry had felt a wave of horror when the doctor had told him that this tall blond man was his husband. He had never imagined he could be someone so close. If this man was sharing his life, how could he feel nothing looking at him? How could he not remember his name? Then he realised he couldn't even remember his own name. He looked into Mr Malfoy's eyes and saw a reflection of his own shock and fear. But the blond man said nothing as he slowly got up and followed the doctor, leaving him all alone with his thoughts and his fleeing memories.

***********************************************************************

The couple had just left. Hermione and Ron they called themselves. They seemed really nice. He was glad to know he had friends like that. They told him a lot about his life. The life of the Boy who lived, twice. Three times now, they said as a joke. But their laughter never reached their eyes.

Everything seemed so unreal, as if he were told the story of someone else. He, the hero who saved the world? Really?

He asked them about his husband as well. Draco Malfoy. There was a very awkward silence before Hermione started to share the story of the young boy, raised in a pure blood family, son of the closest ally to the one who killed his parents. They told him plenty about their rivalry at school and his difficult position during the war. Not so much about how they ended up together. He didn't insist. It was already a lot to process. He was exhausted.

He woke up an hour later when his husband entered the room. The man saw his sleepy face and offered to come back later but Harry declined. He was uncomfortable when Malfoy was around. That man was his husband but didn't behave that way. Not once had he made an affectionate gesture, nor told him he loved him, nor called him by a nickname. He didn’t even smile at him. He was distant but also embarrassed and Harry couldn't blame him for that.

This time he came with a bag from which he took what looked like a large and heavy book.

"The doctor suggested that pictures could help. We never really took time to create a proper album so I tried to gather a few pics…"

He looked exhausted, his eyes were red and his shirt was creased.

He sat on the chair by his side and dropped the album on his knees. Harry stared at the cover with apprehension. It was one thing to hear his story from the mouths of others, it was another to see images of himself living a life he couldn't remember.

He took a deep breath and opened it.

The first photo he saw was one of a couple dancing near a fountain.

"These are your parents. Don't bother trying to remember them, you were one when they died. I thought you might want to know what they looked like though."

He had shifty eyes and seemed even more uncomfortable than usual. Harry didn't comment and listened to his explanations as he browsed through pictures of his parents, their friends, his godfather. Eventually he started to see pictures of him, as a young boy with a young Ron and a young Hermione. Him with other friends. Malfoy even added some articles from the newspaper. And as he turned the pages he saw himself becoming older. He saw himself with a baby making his first steps. His godson apparently. He saw himself at Hermione and Ron's wedding. Then himself holding another baby. Rose he said, his friends' daughter.

As time passed he was less and less talkative. But Harry didn't mind. He didn't need more, that was already a huge amount of information to assimilate. It was hard to accept that the young man with messy dark hair in those pictures was himself.

Soon after he started to see pictures of him and Malfoy. And his husband fell completely silent. There was a picture of Malfoy rolling his eyes in some restaurant, a picture of him struggling with a tie, fancy-dressed for some occasion, a picture of the two of them at Christmas where he was watching Malfoy unwrapping a present, a loving smile on his face.

He paused a long time at the sight of him in a prestigious black and gold wizard dress, Malfoy by his side in full white and silver, flowers falling all over them. Malfoy was whispering something in his ear, making him laugh out loud. They seemed genuinely happy, both of them.

He glanced at Malfoy but the man was looking somewhere else, his jaw clenched. Harry felt sad and a bit angry. None of these pictures were bringing any memory, not any emotion, not even a vague feeling of déjà-vu. He could only imagine his husband's disappointment.

He kept browsing through the pictures of his wedding, hoping one of them would trigger something. There were pictures of them in an exotic country, on a white sand beach. More Christmas. A picture of him holding another baby. A picture of his husband holding that same baby. And more and more pictures of this baby, turning into a white blond hair child, always smiling from ear to ear. He felt a shudder of horror crawling down his spine as he turned the pages and kept seeing that kid playing with him, hugging him.

Unable to continue, he put the book down.

"Malfoy…” He took a deep breath, shivering “Draco?"

As he called him by his first name for the first time since he woke up, his husband turned his head slowly to face him, demons in the eyes.

"Do we… Do we have a child?"

Draco didn't answer right away. First he leaned down to turn a new page of the book, revealing the picture of them with the young boy holding a tiny baby the best he could, his smile wider than ever.

"Two actually…"

Silence fell as Harry froze. He felt nauseous. How could he? How could he forget something that important, forget that he was a father, that he had a family?

He stared at his husband, hoping for an impossible answer.

Draco tried to explain, his voice broken:

"I didn't know how to tell you… I'm sorry."

And he burst into tears.

And for the first time he saw that proud, lordly man in all his vulnerability. For the first time, what was a mask finally fell down.

He squeezed his arm, hoping to provide some sort of comfort as the tears kept falling down.

A weird thought crossed his mind. He surprised himself thinking of a bathroom and leaking water, of coldness and red blood running on white tiles. Definitely not an appropriate thought for the situation, so he pushed it away.

***********************************************************************

Harry was waiting in front of the main chimney. Draco came toward him, showing a file in his hand:

"All done! Are you ready?"

Harry breathed deeply; he was not ready, he was terrified.

"No, but I don't think I'll ever be."

Draco grabbed a pot filled with floo powder before handing it to his husband:

"I told you everything you need to know. Even if you miss a few things, they'll forgive you. They know about your accident and they are so eager to see you that details won't matter."

Harry nodded and grabbed a handful of the green powder before entering the chimney. He gave a last look at his husband and gathered all his courage to yell the address Draco gave him before dropping the powder.

The first thing he noticed when exiting the floo was the smell. A complex mix of wood, coffee, hot bread, lemon, herbs and so many things indescribable. But a somehow very familiar smell. He knew that scent. He knew it so much it moved him. It was linked with a feeling of safety, of love and happiness. It reminded him of relief when coming back from work, busy mornings, animated lunch… it smelled like home.

Draco joined him right before a tiny blond storm rushed toward him, yelling:

"DADDYYYYYYY"

Unconsciously, Harry kneeled down and opened his arms, catching his son and hugging him tight. The boy started to cry and Harry felt overwhelmed. A few tears rolled down his cheek as he realised that for the time he understood, deeply understood that the story people had told him was true. This was his home, this was his child. He may not remember everything but he knew all this was part of his life.

He raised his head and noticed a little boy hiding behind Draco's leg. He moved an arm to invite him to join the hug but the child didn't move. With a very small voice he asked:

"Are you still my daddy if you can't remember me?"

The question hit him like a punch in the stomach. Draco had warned him. Albus didn't talk much but when he did he always surprised them with a maturity way too advanced for his age. He tried to compose himself and answered:

"I may not remember everything, I may have forgotten the day you were born, your first words, your first steps... but nothing, you hear me, nothing will ever stop me from being your father. I am still here and we'll make new memories together, I swear." His voice broke. It wasn't fair. A child shouldn't question his father's love. Especially not his own child.

Slowly, one tiny step after another, Albus reached for his father, hugged him and grabbed his t-shirt so tight, Harry felt as if it was his heart that was squeezed by this tiny hand. He suddenly remembered staying up all night, trying to soothe a terrified baby Albus holding his finger as if his life depended on it while a thunderstorm was shaking the windows.

Finally, he thought. It wasn't much but it was a start.

***********************************************************************

Harry was enjoying a glass of firewhisky in front of the fireplace when Draco came in, poured himself a glass and sat by his side on the sofa, obviously exhausted.

"Two hours later, they are finally asleep!"

Harry giggled softly:

"I could have done it, you know. It really doesn't bother me."

Draco frowned.

"Of that I have no doubt. But it's been weeks since you came home and it's time they accept being tucked in by their other father."

Harry smiled but didn't answer. Draco was right of course, but he really liked sharing that moment with his two sons.

His husband suddenly stood up and took a letter from the coffee table.

"The minister asked me to give you this. They want you to come back to work quickly. Again. I don't understand how they can harass you like that after what happened. What would it take for them to give you a break? You losing an arm?!"

He sat down on the couch and emptied the glass in a single shot.

Harry didn't even bother to open the letter. He made it fly directly to the fireplace. His husband raised an eyebrow, silently asking for an explanation.

"I'll answer by telling them that I quit. That should calm them down."

Draco couldn't hide his surprise.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I certainly had very good reasons to do this job but I think I've done more than my part. It's time I get a bit more selfish and focus on myself."

"So what are you going to do?"

"I don't know yet… something far less dangerous, that's for sure."

They fell silent as they both watched the flames devouring the paper. Draco was obviously concerned but Harry gave him time to put the right words on his feelings. When he finally spoke, Draco avoided his eyes, like he did when he felt vulnerable.

"If you ever want to ask for divorce I would understand… All the reasons you married me probably disappeared with the rest of your memories."

Harry couldn't help but smile and took a sip of his drink before answering.

"You know when I first woke up, I thought that you were an arrogant little prat."

His smile widened when he saw a faint blush on Draco's cheeks.

"Then I realized that there was more to you than met the eye. Every passing day I understand a little more why I married you in the first place. It would be a shame to end things now, don't you think?"

His husband didn't answer right away and Harry added, suddenly more serious:

"That is if you want to give it a try as well. After all, I probably changed and I may not be the man you married anymore."

Draco took a few seconds to consider the matter, his eyes lost in the dancing flames of their chimney.

"You did change. You seem more… peaceful. I guess some memories are best forgotten."

He stopped and Harry turned toward him, his arm laying on the back of the sofa.

"You didn't answer the question."

Draco smirked and Harry noticed that he really liked the curve it gave to his thin lips when he did so.

"In sickness and health. Those were my vows. And I still remember them. Sure I wasn't expecting amnesia but I still knew that with you it was far from being empty words."

He opened his mouth as if he were about to say something else but closed it as he changed his mind.

Harry exhorted him to keep going.

"But?"

Draco bit his lips and stared at his empty glass.

"No but. I still want to believe in us. It's just… complicated. In the beginning I felt as if you were a complete stranger. Almost as if my husband was dead and his body was being possessed. And yet sometimes you do or say something and I feel like nothing ever happened. The weirdest part is that it makes me feel… guilty. Almost as if I was cheating on my husband with you." He paused and nervously tapped his glass with his long fingers. "Sorry, that's ridiculous."

Harry smiled tenderly. There was something about Draco's vulnerability that was touching and addicting. The fact that he chose to expose himself to him and only him was the only thing really making him feel like the Chosen One.

"It's not ridiculous. I myself am struggling to make a connection between who I am and who I was." He added with amusement:

"You know what's ridiculous? The links my brain makes sometimes! I mean, the smell of wet grass makes me think of Quidditch games with Scorpius. OK, I get it. I must have played with him many times while it was rainy. The smell of your shampoo under the shower makes me horny. I think I can get that one too. But why on earth would I think of cinnamon cookies when I see you smile?"

And to his greatest surprise, Draco burst into laughter. A real, uncontrolled laugh, brightening every cell of his face. For the first time since he woke up, Draco let go of the fears, the doubts and the sorrows, only to fully embrace the moment. And he was gorgeous that way.

Draco bit his bottom lip to regain control and explained with a mischievous smile: " Well I may have tried something called positive reinforcement to make you like me when we both started working for the minister. But damn, I didn't know it worked that well."

Harry didn't listen, still mesmerized by Draco's smile. He felt a sudden burst of heat as his heart missed a beat. The words left his lips before he could even understand them.

"I think I'm falling in love with you again."

He almost regretted his words when Draco's smile froze. But then a small blush colored his husband's cheeks and as they closed the gap between them, nothing else mattered.

Their kiss was soft and shy. A light touch of their lips, asking for a permission to hope, slowly getting firmer as if to anchor the moment into reality.

It was far from being their first kiss, but it definitely felt like one.

[professorrw]

can you do wanda x reader who has powers like deku from mha

This was a super interesting concept! I hope that what I wrote for it is what you wanted.

Pairing: gender neutral reader x Wanda Maximoff

Requested: Yes

Warnings: little bit of fluff, little bit of angst, human experimentation, descriptions of surgery, injuries

A/N: I'm working on chapter three of To Have a Heart I'm just not done with it. I ended up not having much time to write these past few days but I'll get on the grind asap! Requests open, taglist open, inbox open! Please like, comment, and reblog!

Your parents were HYDRA soldiers. Your father was a former Nazi. They helped you get your position as a surgeon for HYDRA. You weren’t included in the experiments or informed of anything, but you saw the aftermath. You saw the injuries.

In your heart you had a small itch that it wasn’t right. None of it was. You couldn’t say that aloud. It scared you to even think about it. They were experimenting on young people. People younger than you.

A girl, maybe twenty or so, was carried into the infirmary. You’d never seen her before but you heard talk that there were two new test subjects. The soldiers set her down on the bed and left her in your care. You walked over to her and assessed her.

She was clearly in pain and winced when you touched her arm. From her elbow down it was purple and bruised. You sighed, wishing that you had reports on how she had sustained such injuries. After evaluating her and putting her in an x-ray machine you determined that she had broken her forearm bones and all the bones in her hand.

The fracture was severe, though it hadn’t pierced the skin. You would have to do surgery on it. While you were getting her IV set up on the table beside you she rolled her head over.

“Am I going to be okay?” She spoke with a Sokovian accent, meaning she had come from the very area the HYDRA base was set up at. Your heart throbbed for this poor girl next to you. You didn’t know anything about her but you knew that she had gotten herself into something terrible. While you were in the operating room you would do everything you could to comfort her.

“Of course. A few of your bones are broken but I’ll fix them. They’ll be good as new in a few weeks, I promise.” You smiled and placed a hand on her shoulder.

“Thank you.”

“It’s my pleasure.”

The surgery went well. You induced her and made the incision to reset her bones and put the metal plates and screws in their places. While she was still under anesthetics you wrapped her arm in a sling and left her to rest. She was given to you early in the morning and the surgery was complete before lunch. After dinner you went to her room where she had been relocated.

You knocked on the door and a soft “come in” came from the other side. You went into her dark room and took a seat next to her bed.

“I’m sorry I don’t already know this but what’s your name?”

“Wanda Maximoff,” she answered.

“Wanda… that’s a pretty name.”

She smiled and looked down at her lap.

“Well Wanda I’m doctor Y/L/N but you can call me Y/N.” You stuck out your left hand, knowing that she shouldn’t and couldn’t move her right that much. She reached out and placed her smooth hand in yours.

“You’re not like the others,” she stated.

You looked at her and tilted your head to the side. “How come?”

Her facial expression changed to a downcast look. Her face told you of all the horrors she had experienced. Once again you ached for her. You wanted to reach out to her and tell her that it was okay. That there was someone on her side.

“They… treat me like a thing. You treat me like a person.”

You pursed your lips together. You understood the feeling all too well. But speaking of it was dangerous. Extremely dangerous.

“You are a person. I’m sorry that no one treats you like one. If you’re comfortable could you tell me what they’re doing to you?”

“There’s a stone. They call it the Mind Stone and it gave me powers. But I can’t control them. They made me punch a big machine and my hand and arm broke. But the machine… it had a dent in it. A large one. It completely broke.”

“So your powers did this to you?” you asked.

Wanda nodded. You’d never heard of powers so destructive to their owner. What kind of power exactly did she have? It sounded like super strength to you but why did it hurt her?

You were only allotted a certain amount of time to check on Wanda. You weren’t supposed to be talking about anything. You were supposed to make sure she was keeping it still and that it was feeling okay.

You glanced over at the camera in the corner of the room. The red dot was flashing on and off and it was pointed straight at Wanda.

“It looks like that’s all the time I have. I’ll be back tomorrow okay?”

Over the span of Wanda’s recovery you got closer. It was refreshing to have someone else to talk to. You could tell from how she talked about it that she resented the people that worked for HYDRA but not what they were giving her. She opened up to you, explaining what happened in her childhood and talking about why she felt the need to have the powers.

Her brother, who you came to find out about soon after Wanda’s surgery, had powers too. His injuries weren’t as severe as Wanda’s but it was crazy to think that one could have super strength and one super speed. It also made you fear whom you were working for even more. The shear power they held, the destruction they were capable of. To think of all HYDRA could do was nerve wracking.

Even after the surgery and recovery you saw Wanda often. Her powers and her body weren’t compatible yet but that didn’t mean that Strucker was going to stop his experiments. As soon as she had recovered from one surgery she was right back in your infirmary.

It was taking a toll on her body and at some point you were tired of seeing her so beaten up. Months after your first meeting you sat in her room with her as she went through the healing process once again. All the incisions and marks were covering her arms. It was painful to look at it.

Her right arm was bare and her left was wrapped up. You looked at all the scars that were on her arms, some of them coming from the surgeries you had to perform on her. In the beginning it was pity and empathy that you viewed her with but after all the months you spent together you had formed a bond. It was unbearable to have to cut into her so often and watch her go through it all.

Without even realizing it you had started crying. How could it be right to hurt such a young girl? How could it be right to experiment on a human being? An innocent human that had never done anything wrong.

“What is it? Why are you crying?”

“Wanda it hurts me to see you like this. It’s not right what they’re doing to you.”

“I’m learning to control my powers. Maybe soon I won’t get hurt anymore. You don’t have to cry.” She reached her good hand over and wiped the tears off your cheek. You took her hand and held it out for both of you to see.

You pointed at all the white scars that were on her hand. “Look at this Wanda. Does it not hurt you? Because it hurts me. You’re in a cycle of getting hurt, having surgery, going through recovery, and then repeating. This isn’t good for your body. If you keep it up this could cause serious damage. Lasting damage.”

“Y/N please. I know what I’m doing. I’m not a little kid. I chose this. I chose to go through this,” she said.

“I like you Wanda. More than friends type of way. It is tearing me apart to cut you and stitch you back up and then watch you be stagnant as you mend. You are so much more than that. You deserve so much more than that. You said it yourself. These people treat you like a thing, something they can toy with.”

“I like you too and I would run away with you if I could. But we both know we can’t leave. This is our life whether we like it or not.”

Wanda’s words that day were truer than anything you had heard in your life. You couldn’t leave. At least you thought you couldn’t. For over a year you and Wanda stayed with HYDRA. You started a relationship that meant more to you than anything in the world. She slowly became able to control her powers and when Ultron was created Wanda became a weapon against the Avengers. That scared you more than anything before.

But there was hope after all. Wanda switched sides and rescued you from HYDRA. The Avengers brought an end to Ultron and HYDRA’s reign, letting you live the life you had wanted for so long.