#lav rente

[perfektcv]

Få forbrukslån med lav rente fra 6,9 %

Å forvalte økonomien smart er en nødvendighet for å oppnå økonomisk frihet, og for mange innebærer dette å håndtere forbrukslån med omtanke. I denne artikkelen vil vi utforske strategier for å sikre lav rente på forbrukslån, forstå markedets trender, og ta kloke beslutninger for å minske lånekostnadene over tid.

→→Send en lånesøknad her for å få lavere rente→→

Den Laveste Renten i Desember 2023: Søk Smart for Lavere Kostnader

Å søke etter det beste forbrukslånet handler ikke bare om å finne den laveste nominelle renten, men også om å forstå den effektive renten. I desember 2023 ligger den laveste nominelle renten på 6,9 %. Etter en grundig sammenligning av 24 banker viser det seg at den laveste effektive renten på et lån på 100 000 kroner er omtrent 8,19 %.

Gjennomsnittlig Rente og Individuelle Vurderinger: Fra 13.04 % til Ditt Unike Tilbud

Gjennomsnittlig forbrukslånsrente per desember 2023, inkludert gebyrer, er 13.04 % ifølge data fra 24 forskjellige banker. Det er viktig å påpeke at din individuelle rente kan variere betydelig basert på kredittsjekk og inntekt. En grundig søknad som inkluderer alle inntektskilder er nøkkelen til å få et nøyaktig og konkurransedyktig tilbud.

Tips for Lavere Rente: Sammenlign og Søk Strategisk

Å søke samtidig til flere banker gir deg en konkurransefordel. Banker har ulike kriterier for å tilby gode renter, og noen legger vekt på faktorer som alder og sivilstatus. Ved å bruke sammenligningstjenester kan du øke sjansene for å få tilbud fra forskjellige banker og velge det beste for din økonomiske situasjon.

Regelmessig Sjekk av Rente: En Vane for Økonomisk Helse

Årlig sjekk av renten på eksisterende forbrukslån er klokt. Dersom du har opprettholdt gode betalingsvaner, kan du forhandle for en bedre rente basert på din oppdaterte økonomiske status. Endringer i inntekt og faste utgifter kan også påvirke dine lånevilkår positivt.

Lavere Rente vs. Lavere Månedsbeløp: Optimalisering av Tilbakebetaling

Når du får tilbud om lavere rente, må du vurdere om du vil opprettholde samme månedlige betaling eller redusere den. Å holde betalingsplanen stabil, selv med lavere rente, kan føre til betydelige besparelser på lang sikt. En nøye balanse mellom månedlige utgifter og reduserte rentekostnader er nøkkelen til å optimere tilbakebetalingen.

Kan jeg få Forbrukslån uten Kredittsjekk?

I Norge er det lovpålagt for finansforetak å utføre en kredittsjekk før de gir deg et lån, enten med eller uten sikkerhet. Selv om betalingsanmerkninger kan utgjøre en utfordring, er det mulig å søke om et "omstartslån" der banken bruker din eiendom som sikkerhet for å dekke eksisterende gjeld.

Kostnadsfri Sammenligning av Renter: En Smart Start på Låneprosessen

Det er ingen kostnad knyttet til å sammenligne renter på forbrukslån. Ved å bruke sammenligningstjenester får du en uforpliktende oversikt over tilgjengelige tilbud. Aksepter kun tilbudet som gir deg reell verdi og forbedrer din økonomiske situasjon.

For å få en bred oversikt over tilgjengelige forbrukslån fra 24 banker, kan du bruke vår sammenligningstjeneste. Å ta smarte økonomiske beslutninger i dag kan legge grunnlaget for en tryggere økonomisk fremtid.

[whirlinglikeaballet]

TELL ME IS SHE PRETTIER THAN SHE WAS ON THE INTERNET ARE YOUR CONVERSATIONS COOL LIKE ARE YOU EVEN INTERESTED I KNOW WHAT YOU ARE BRIGHTER THAN THE STARS TELL ME DOES SHE TAKE. YOU. FAAAR

[peachesofteal]

Deckhand Simon Riley / female reader 18+ mdni, dubcon. Simon is very no good terrible and kind of mean. Predator/prey. Excessive alcohol consumption, manipulation. Spitting, size, praise, a little bit of breeding/daddy - kink.

Simon arrives to town on the last summer wind. 

It’s cold for the shoulder of the season. Not the coldest he’s ever felt, but cold enough his scars become rigid, inflexible swaths of skin littered across his body pinching at every hinge. 

He can already feel the burn. The stretch and strain of his upper back, his arms, his legs. Can already feel the weight of the pots, sharp metal slamming and crashing, teeming with things that look more like creatures than they do delicacies.

Hook. String. Pull. Block.

The people stare at him, wide, wind whipped eyes peeking out underneath knit wool hems, gagged and confused, whispers passed back and forth like children with a lolly. 

Did you see him? 

Look at the size of ‘im- 

Is that Ernest’s new deckhand? 

Fucking monster of a man, I tell you. 

He keeps his head down. Eyes fixed to the floor, old instinct still churning in his blood, shoulders stiff and squared. Captains are all the same, whether on land or at sea. Says “yes sir” as Ernest sizes him up, asks about his previous two seasons, and then sends him away with a perfunctory nod and a departure date. 

The Old Man leaves in two weeks. See you then.

King crab fishing is the closest he’s felt to having a foot in the grave since he was actually in one. Opponents in a firefight are known, predictable. Monsters of their own kind, but ones he knows intimately. Minds of a killer, the lot of them, a certain subset of consciousness nearly shared. 

The ocean shares its mind with no one. Its secrets are its own, buried in the briny deep, never to be revealed. 

And the Bering-  

The Bering is its own horror. Savage and cruel to those who would tempt it, willing to swallow anything offered and pull it down into fathomless black water. Cold enough to kill a man in seconds. Violent enough to toss them all to sea. 

He’s seen it happen. More than once. The environment is uncontrollable, unpredictable, lethal, and the work is arduous. 

The company is tolerable at best. The season is short, yet taxing. Deckhands live dozens of years, in a few short months. They stare off into nothing, watching the horizon, long gone look in their eye. 

Still, he sees familiar flickers in them, same firelight he’s seen in the many men he’s killed, or worked alongside of. 

At the base of it, these types of men, his kind, are all the same. 

Rabid and dangerous in packs. 

The cove is nearly derelict. The town spills up into white and black spruce, houses nestled in the grove of tree trunks twice Simon’s size, all doors facing the warped and tilted wooden slats of a long-loved dock. 

There isn’t much here, a small grocery, a liquor store, a petrol station and of course- 

A pub. 

Aptly named The Wharf, the bar is as old hat as they come, seedy and sticky, sunken into the soft earth. It’s everything he’s come to expect in a fishing town this far up north, where the season is variable, and the money is too. Dark wood from floor to ceiling, over polished oak horseshoe, neglected stools and booths. Everything creaks, and The Wharf is no exception. The pub, the dock, the trees. Wind whistles and bark groans, a rasp you can only find here, in these places where time is too slow, and the world forgets. 

There are rooms above the bar, usually rented to his ilk, deckhands biding their time, greenhorns rattling with excitement. They all filter in weeks before the season opens, and when he checks into his, he’s not surprised when the woman at the desk tells him he’s got the last one. 

There are only ten, after all.

The Wharf’s side door swings open in a gust of blistering wind, yet not a single person turns their head. 

None except him, though he doesn’t need to look to know it’s you. 

He can smell you. Can feel you, clear across the floor. Sea salt and lavender, it whirls in your wake wherever you go, and when he lingers on the sidewalk outside of your little workshop, he swears he’s standing in a cloud of it. 

“If y’need jackets, bibs mended from last season, there’s a place on the corner, next to The Wharf. She’ll get ‘em done before season.” 

You’re the bloody seamstress. The tailor. Nimble fingers twisting and tying, threading and looping inside a faded light blue storefront, working into the small hours of the night. Your workspace is small, and overflowing with bright orange polyurethane covered clothes, long lengths of neoprene, socks, shirts, wristers. A mass of work, it seems, one that keeps your light on after all others have gone dark. 

Except The Wharf’s. 

It’s the second time he’s seen you here. 

He doesn’t count the times he’s seen you without you realizing it. Doesn’t count the times he’s finished a cigarette on the street at the perfect angle, a solid perch to peer right in through your window. He doesn’t count the times he’s watched you from The Wharf’s one dark window, when you step outside to take a long breath of air, stretching your back and shaking your arms out, rolling your head in a circle- 

and baring your throat for the slaughter.

The first was days ago, close to zero hundred, when you swung in to settle on a barstool with your back to the door. You look like you’re made from spools of silk, even underneath all of your winter layers, big coat, knit wool hat. There’s a coruscated dapple in your eye, one that manages to shimmer even in the darkest shadows of the bar, voice saccharine as he’s ever heard, dipping into a melody as you go back and forth with the bartender. 

He hears it now when he closes his eyes at night, awash in a sea of bourbon, cigarette stench sunken into his skin. A gentle rhythm, a syrupy voice, saying his name. 

Screaming it. 

You catch his gaze across the bar. Catch him watching you, peeling you, picking you apart, but you say nothing. Blink a few times, glance down at your beer, pretend to busy yourself with something else. It’s not a flinch, but close enough to it. 

He knows what you see. What you should see. 

A monster. Licking his lips at a girl. A fire breather bearing down on top of a princess. 

If he crossed this room right now and yanked you off that barstool, who would interrupt? Intervene? They’re all men of the same vein, born from different battlefields. The rules of engagement become status quo, regardless of whether you’re baptized by the Bering, or by fire.

Rabid, dangerous in packs.  

Eleven days left, and he’s finally found something worthwhile to occupy his time, besides lurking in the dingy corners of The Wharf like an old, decrepit sailor. 

You. 

You live above the shop, an old fire escape leads to a wooden door with a big window, one covered by a curtain hung from the inside. 

The Wharf’s rooms have a fire escape too. A metal catwalk. 

Metal. Who’s the idiot who decided metal anything would be good in a place like this? Iron nearly turned red, rusted to all hell. One shift, and it all falls down. 

He takes his watch there, at night. A gargoyle at his post, waiting for the flicker of your kitchen and bedroom lights, shapes and shadows dancing behind the thin drapes, a ballerina on stage for the masses. 

For him. 

He brings you his gear. Looms over you at the desk where your sewing machine is grinding out an industrial stitch thicker than what he’s seen on parachutes. 

“H-hi.” Hi. Aren’t you cute? A little lamb, alone in the woods.

He nods. Stays silent. Enjoys watching his catch twist herself up on his hook. 

You glance at the noxious orange pieces draped over his arm, and half timidly reach.

“Need those patched? Er, like… have any tears or rips?” Not really. He keeps his gear in good condition. Throws out his underclothes after every season- can never get the stench of fish out of em, but his outer gear is well cared for. 

It almost pained him to rip them apart last night. 

“Simon.” He gives it expectantly, jogging your manners to the forefront. You have the good grace to look embarrassed with how fast you spit out your own name.

“Bibs have a few holes. Big ones. Jacket’s got a rip under the armpit.” You reach, tiny little fingers stretching across the barren space between him and you, and he lashes down the urge to snatch your wrist out of midair and bring it to his teeth. 

Do you taste like lavender? Sea salt? Is your cunt briny like the Bering, slicked sweet and brackish? 

“Okay, well, I should have them done before-“ 

“You better.” You startle, eyes wide and confused, before they find your feet, cowed little girl before an awful man. “Jus’ need em, is all.” He softens the approach, not willing to cut you down just yet (that comes later), and you respond well, perfectly, pushing your glasses up onto the bridge of your nose with a genuine smile. 

Live bait on the line. Set, cast, hook.

“Got it.” 

His control is becoming a house of cards. 

You’re in The Wharf earlier tonight, asking Jimmy for a double, whiskey over ice and nearly to the brim of a rocks glass. Just one, you say. Neck is sore as hell.

He maintains a distance. More inclined to watch you devolve, fascinated by the way you unravel with each sip. Lightweight. Figures.

You pull your glasses off and rub your temples, hopping off the bar stool with a quick word over your shoulder, a request for another drink. “Just goin’ to the bathroom.” You explain, walking away with a hardly detectable sway in your step- 

directly into the side of the wall the bar juts out from. 

Someone, a woman who never so much as looks up the entire time she’s here, furrows her brow at where you’re rubbing your forehead and tsks. 

“Your glasses!” You turn, embarrassed, downright mortified, and sheepishly slide your fingers across the bar until you find them. 

“Oh, right. Thanks Laurie.” Laurie, says nothing. Not until you’ve turned away and almost disappeared into the bathroom. Then, she mutters to herself, into her fresh pint. 

“Damn girl is blind as bat without those things.” 

He buys Laurie another round before he leaves for the night. An eventual thanks. 

"Can I bum one?"

His neck nearly snaps. Where did you come from? You're timid in the mouth of the alley, lichen washed red brick flanking you on either side, your hands folded together at your navel.

"Little girls allowed to smoke 'round here?" Now your neck snaps.

"I- I'm not a little girl, thank you." It's like you're trying to turn your nose up at him, but he's a giant above, and it's hopeless.

"Sure you're not." He plucks the cigarette from his lips, and then holds it out to you. Your breath hitches, top teeth digging deep, an instigation, invitation. His hand whips forward, too fast for you to realize, gripping your chin, pressing his thumb into the flesh of your bottom lip. "Want a drag or not?"

"S-sure." He's got your cheeks squeezed together, just so, enough that the fat of them crowds your mouth and makes the s sound more like a whistle.

He doesn't let go as he feeds it to you, stopping just before the filter touches your teeth. "Go ‘head then." You draw, deep, eyes closing as that first hit of nicotine rushes your blood, undoubtedly making you light headed, and his cock thickens with dreams of his fat head pushing between your lips instead of this cigarette, dreams of you split open on him with a soaked pussy, neck bared for his teeth.

Hook. String. Pull.

He squeezes himself overtop his jeans, heavy weight pulsing between his legs, a dangerous affliction growing larger and larger with each second. He could rock against his palm, right here in front of you, and it would feel worlds better than the last measly meal he had, months and months ago. Nothing will compare to you, he already knows.

You see it all. Frozen like a deer in headlights, your lips part, transfixed, confused. Will you run? Will you shout? Will you tell?

"I uh, I better... get going. Have a lot of work t-to finish." Good girl. He nods, letting go of his aching cock, slipping the cigarette back in his mouth, searching for even a hint of lavender and sea salt lingering in the filter.

"Goodnight."

Four days left, and his gear is finished.

You leave a message for him, letting him know he can pick up whenever is convenient. During shop hours. Cash or card accepted. What a dutiful business owner.

You’re in the back when he arrives. It’s long past close, but no one locks their doors here. Anyone could walk right in.

“Be right out!” You yell, slightly muffled. He doesn’t respond, doesn’t opt to give himself away, just waits at the front desk, where a mug of fresh coffee sits, still hot, still steaming.

Desperation for claim, for possession, claws up his throat to his tongue, thrashing in a fit until saliva pools in his cheeks. He sucks through his teeth, rolling the pockets behind his molars forward, pulling as much as he can, his soul even, up and out, landing it in a glob on the surface of your evening caffeine fix.

It sits there, tiny bubbles and all, an island in endless ocean, unable to break apart or disappear. Blatant. Obvious.

So, he sticks his finger in it and gives a quick swirl. For good measure.

There’s rustling in the back, and then you pop through the doors, glasses sliding to your nose. “Hi! So sor-“

You grind to a halt, spine curling forward, as if you’re trying to protect your precious organs from his fingers, avoiding his grip around your ribs, his urge to rip you open and devour you whole.

He smirks. “Got a message my gear is done? Nick o’ time.”

“Yeah, it’s… it’s done. I’ve got it, one sec.” You fidget, gun shy and shuddering, flitting away on the turn of a heel, eager to escape where he hulks in front of your desk, no doubt.

When you come back, you’re a bit more put together. Polished. Glasses in their rightful place, you place his bib and jacket on the counter unceremoniously, lips pressed together. He hands you a wad of cash, and you count it carefully, keeping your eyes pinned on the bills as he inspects the stitching, taking stock in your sharp attention to detail. “Like new, great work. Thank you.”

You go doe eyed, demure, flattered, and then confused, trying to reconcile this man, this version with the one from last night. “T-thank you.”

It all comes to a head, two days out.

There’s a party of sorts, a gathering. Entire boat of deckhands crammed into The Wharf, plus others, town residents and even some from the next over.

Too many, for Simon’s tastes.

Too many, except for one.

You’re crammed between the wall and someone’s shoulder, occasionally saying hello, accepting thanks for work well done. You keep your idle hands busy, accepting drink after drink, a shot of tequila, another of rum.

You’re even dressed up, cute as a button. Sweet as cream, honey on the hive.

Your hiccups ring out from across the room directly to his ears, chest shaking with each one. The bar is at max volume, shouting, cheering, chattering, but he can hear you crystal clear. Can hear the high pitch echo of each one, can hear your throat bobbing, the long exhale singing from your nose after trying to hold your breath. “I need some air,” you say to your neighbor, “be right back.”

He downs the last of his bourbon, subtle fire in his throat, and then makes for the back door.

Your arms are crossed, leaning against the brick with your head tipped back, eyes closed. Wearing a knit sweater, a skirt, and wool leggings, for fucks sake. “Dangerous place to be, a little girl all alone.” Your eyes snap wide, startled.

“Simon,” you don’t stutter his name, liquor easing your nerves, sweetening you up to a slaughter like the little lamb you are. Your ability to assess risk is long gone, and when you peek over at him, head rolling, the usual skittish haunt of your gaze is nowhere to be found.

“Out for a smoke?”

“No, just some fresh air.”

“Poor lamb. Drink too much?” You shrug, steadying your balance against the wall. Trying to appear more with it than he knows you are.

He stalks closer, closer than you should be comfortable with, but you only sigh, wilted as the grass withered by the impending winter.

He tests. Probes. Brushes a hand against yours, watches how you tip a little to the side, his side, eyes glassy between hard blinks. “You’re so sweet, little lamb.”

“Oh,” you make an o with your lips when you say it, like you’re suprised. “T-thank you.”

“Do you taste sweet, you think?” You jolt, but he handles your hip like he’s afraid you’ll fall, though you have a better grasp on your balance than you think you do. “Hmm?”

“I’m… I’m not sure.” It’s a race now, one you’re desperate to catch up in, but falling behind faster and faster.

Hook. String. Pull.

“Open your mouth.” You do, on instinct, and he hums with approval. “Good girl.” He sticks his thumb inside, depressing your tongue, shoving back and to the side, hard enough he stretches the corner of your lip, and then tugs.

Hooked.

You’re too drunk to process it, not really. Enflamed with a rollercoaster of shock, shame and disgust. But beneath it all, something else rises, breaks at the surface for air. Desire.

He doesn’t waste the moment, hands splayed at your ribcage, shoving you back against the wall, your shoulders slamming into it. He’s on you, rabid, wolf at the throat of a lamb, tongue forcing its way between your teeth without permission. You jerk, tense, muscles shifting like you might put your arms up, but instead they fall limply to your sides, and you moan.

String.

The length of his torso, chest and stomach press against you, hold you in place, allowing him free rein to wrap his fingers into the fine fabric of your wool stockings and rip. The shocked little gasp falls from you as expected, but you’re too far gone to fight. Prize on the line, he tugs them aside and strokes over your folds, already wet for him, dipping into your cunt, tight and fluttering around his invasion.

“Si- Simon- stop.” You push at him shoulders, trying and failing, squirming and whining. He shoves deeper, one nearly too much, two an impossible fit.

“Why would I stop when you’re so wet f’me little girl?” He presses the swell of his cock against you, your walls clenching at the contact, and he chuckles darkly. “Gonna say you don’t want this, sweet lamb? Gonna lie when this little pussy is dripping all over my hand?” You’re scandalized. Ripped from your comfort and thrown ashore, a fish out of water, gasping on land. He breathes into your neck, biting and sucking his way back up to your mouth where he distracts you for a brief moment, long enough to tip your balance to the side, a stutter step disrupting your focus, and delivers an opportune strike to snatch your glasses off your face so fast you flinch backwards in the confusion. He manages to cup your head just in time and cushion its bounce against the brick.

Pull.

“My glasses.” Your voice trembles, and he’s surprised to feel a twinge of guilt. Don’t worry little one. He’ll pull you apart, but he’ll put you back together. Eventually. “Simon… my- my glasses, do you see my glasses?”

“No, sorry. It’s too dark, sweet thing.” You tear up, horrified, and they spill down your cheeks, fat and wet, leaving tracks all the way to your neck.

He licks them with glee.

“I need to-“ he pays you no mind, returning to his work, his meal, shoving your knee to the side and lifting you up the wall, until the smear of you cunt weeps all over his jeans. “I need-“

“Know what you need, little girl.” He shreds your leggings wider, tearing a hole big enough to expose your thighs, your lower belly. Later, when he has you pinned to his bed, he’ll eat you until you can’t speak or see, but for now, bludgeoning the entirety of his cock into this too tight space will have to do.

You hiccup again. It’s too sweet, rots his soul. He wonders if you’ll be here, when he gets back. If you’ll run, or if you’ll wait. Maybe he’ll give you something to remember him by, knock you up, nice and fat by summer, heavy with a piece of him. Maybe.

He slides his zipper now, pulling the weight of his cock free, sliding the head through your slit as you look down. You can’t see, how big, how thick, how impossible it looks, head trying to push into you, your body unyielding, spasming as he batters his way inside. You claw at his shoulders, spitting out a half moan, a half sob, and he taps his forehead to yours. “It’s too m-much, too- hurts-“

“Don’t fight it. You’ve got plenty of room, be good.” He soothes with a lie, probably. You’re so tight he can feel you in his bones, restricting, bearing down. He pushes, heat and slick closing in around him, making him dizzy, his pulse pounding in his ears. “Fuck- that’s it. Feel that?” He drags your hand to the root of his cock, splaying your fingers around the base. “Feel yourself splittin’ open on me?” You moan some nonsense, some sort of garbage mixed with a yes, and a no. “Perfect little pussy, stretchin’ for me, yeah?” Only for me.

He fucks you so hard you’re shoving higher and higher up the wall, cunt choking him with each thrust, your fingers twisted in his sweatshirt, clinging on for dear life, a sailor in a storm. Lost in the fuzzy, blurry world without your glasses, he gives you a port in the dark, a lighthouse calling you home. He spreads you wide, rolling over your clit, pinching, thumbing, finding the rhythm that makes your buzz, hips starting to jerk, swallow him up.

Unbelievably, you tighten up even more, eyes slamming shut, and he holds you steady at your hips, driving deep, mouth on your ear. “Gonna be good and cum? Gonna show daddy how good you can be and cum all over his cock?” You gasp, and he drags you to it, pushes you over, rolls your shoulders back against the brick when you curl forward, pussy so tight it tries to force him out. You scream with it, but he covers your mouth, palm to your tongue, elbow at your collarbone. He’s relentless now, shoving himself until there isn’t a space inside you not filled with him, as fast as possible, body like a ragdoll. When he’s on the edge, teetering so close, he pinches your cheeks. “Open up, little lamb.” Your brow furrows, but partially blind, you’re more trusting, and you do as you’re asked. His hips piston, a rough saw, chasing, sprinting towards the end, heat climbing down his spine and across every muscle until he’s shoved so deep inside you he thinks he’s in your belly, and rears back, sucking a glob of spit to his lips and launching it into your mouth, just as he floods your pussy with cum. He jerks inside you, slow strokes, and you hang limply against him, fucked out, still drunk, docile as a lamb.

You hiss when he pulls free and lurch forward against his chest, not able to stand on your own. “C’mon, let’s get you a bath.” He murmurs into your hair, and you protest weakly.

“My glasses.”

“I’ll find ‘em.” He vows, patting their safe spot in his front pocket. “Don’t worry.”

[veryloovy]

Get me the fuck out of California

These posts never do well, but here goes. Looking for help in covering rent and to move. Got a room already set, things just aren't ready to do the final planning yet. It is a very long drive that I am planning to do dirt cheap (CA->MN). I really hate that I cannot provide a goal for this right now, but it will have to happen in the next few months.

Rent here is well above my means and the place I'm trying to get to is much cheaper by like a LOT. I haven't had savings in ages, things got this bad. Things will be so much easier when this happens. To get this to happen though, I have commissions available. My art account's @lilblucat. I have a bit of a backlog though, so I am very grateful if you instead opt to donate.

Comms down below on Ko-fi. For donations my Paypal is here. Cashapp is $lunardances

[winreyplace]

《 Pinned Post 》

Nestled deep in the heart of the woods lies a home known as Winrey Place—a sanctuary for characters in need of comfort, belonging, and above all, love. We are Mel and Lav, munbonders who have diligently woven together this beautiful tapestry of a chosen family since 2016. Each munbond who enters our lives brings so much value to us and we cannot wait to share their stories with you all.

Meet the Winrey Place Collective FAQ Tags List

What we will post/reblog here includes:

General history, resources, and guides on soulbonding

Posts that remind us of our munbonds

Funny and interesting stories about our family

Interactions with the wider plural community

The wisdom and experiences we have accumulated over the years from sharing munbonds together

Our alterhuman identities

Miscelife aka a/b/o lifestyle identities

Immersive daydreaming & the Living Character Phenomenon

and more!

Notes & Disclaimers:

We’re okay with doubles!

We’re selfshippers too!

All of us are over the age of 18 and enjoy kinky and sex positive content, although we will tag for it. Please be aware if you’re a minor!

Our munbonds have all evolved beyond their original sources and most of them no longer have any connection to their canonical universes.

Some posts may not be rebloggable if they are personal to our family, but you can still engage with them through replies and likes!

We’re happy to answer any questions about soulbonding or our family at any time; if you have an ask for a particular munbond, we will make sure they respond!

We’re quick to block users who exhibit racism, fatphobia, queerphobia, ableism, etc., as well as those who are antiship, anti-endo, anti-cringe, anti-otherkin/alterhuman, and anti-kink. We are a diverse group of queer, polyamorous, neurodivergent, disabled, alterhuman, and kinky people and do not tolerate bigotry or hateful discourse.

➤ Quick Rundown of Our Whole Family (For even more in-depth intros, please click link the above!)

The Bonders:

Lav - ◦ Born 1997 ◦ Munbonder ◦ Bunny Therian/Adopted Werewolf/Ranger Demikin/Miscelapin Aega/Human ◦ Bigender Boygirl ◦ Bi Aro-GreyAce ◦ Autistic, ADHD, PTSD, Physically Disabled

Mel& - ◦ Born 1999 ◦ Munbonder & Mediple System ◦ Changeling; Kin: Fallen Star/Half-Fae; Archetropes: Cleric/Bard/Wizard; Hearttypes: Doll/Halfling/The Doctor; Similies/Synpaths: Bear/Mouse; Paratypes: Wolf/TARDIS ◦ Femme-Neutrois Xirl ◦ Bi Quoi-AroAce ◦ Autistic, ADHD, Mad, Physically Disabled

The Rents:

Logan ◦ Born 1953 ◦ Insourced ◦ Ranger ◦ Autigender Man ◦ AroAce ◦ Autistic, PTSD

Meyleth ◦ Born 1933 ◦ Insourced ◦ Joined Fae ◦ Cis Woman ◦ Bi

Tasha ◦ Born 1984 ◦ Outsourced;Black Widow ◦ Human ◦ Cis Woman ◦ Acefluid ◦ Autistic, PTSD

Howlett ◦ Born 1832 ◦ Outsourced;Wolverine ◦ Mutant ◦ Cis Man ◦ Bisexual Aceflux ◦ Autistic, PTSD

Diana ◦ Born 3000 B.C. ◦ Outsourced;Wonder Woman ◦ Demigoddess ◦ Cis Woman ◦ Bisexual

Butler ◦ Born 1969 ◦ Outsourced;Artemis Fowl ◦ Human ◦ Cis Man ◦ Bi ◦ PTSD, Physically Disabled

Sean ◦ Born 1981 ◦ Outsourced;Grimm ◦ Half-Wesen(Zauberbeist)/Half-Human ◦ Neutrois Man* ◦ AroAce ◦ Autistic

The Mids:

Nick ◦ Born 1987 ◦ Outsourced;Grimm ◦ Grimm ◦ Cis Man ◦ Demisexual ◦ Misophonia

Jack ◦ Born 1690/1989 ◦ Insourced(Dream)/Outsourced;Pirates of the Caribbean ◦ Human ◦ GNC Man ◦ Pansexual ◦ ADHD

Pope ◦ Born 1987 ◦ Outsourced;Falling Skies ◦ Human ◦ Demiguy ◦ Demisexual ◦ Autistic, PTSD

Sara ◦ Born 1986 ◦ Outsourced;Falling Skies ◦ Human ◦ Cis Woman ◦ Bisexual

Quentin ◦ Born 1992 ◦ Outsourced;The Magicians ◦ Miscevulpin Omega/Fox Therian/Human/Magician ◦ Autigender Man ◦ Bisexual ◦ Autistic, MDD, Anxiety

Eliot ◦ Born 1990 ◦ Outsourced;The Magicians ◦ Human/Magician ◦ Cis Man ◦ Gay Bisexual ◦ Autistic (PDA profile), PTSD, Alcoholic

Charlton ◦ Born 1000+ years ago in Fillorian years/1992 ◦ Outsourced;The Magicians ◦ Fillorian ◦ Cisn’t Man ◦ Bisexual ◦ Autistic, PTSD

Margo ◦ Born 1990 ◦ Outsourced;The Magicians ◦ Lycanthrope/Magician ◦ Cis Woman ◦ Bisexual

Alice ◦ Born 1992 ◦ Outsourced;The Magicians ◦ Fox Otherhearted Human/Magician ◦ Cis Woman ◦ Bicurious ◦ Autistic

The Youngins:

Rune ◦ Born 1998 ◦ Insourced ◦ Ranger ◦ Cis Man ◦ AroAce ◦ Autistic, MDD

Liam ◦ Born 1997 ◦ Insourced ◦ Wild Fae ◦ Autigender Man ◦ AroAce ◦ Autistic, Anxiety, PTSD

Damien ◦ Born 1992 ◦ Outsourced;[Redacted] ◦ Atypical ◦ Genderqueer Man ◦ AroAce ◦ Autistic, ADHD, PTSD, Depression

Artemis ◦ Born 1997 ◦ Outsourced;Artemis Fowl ◦ Human Clone ◦ Masc-Aligned ◦ Asexual ◦ Autistic, Savant, OCD, Mild Paranoid Psychosis

Trubel ◦ Born 1995 ◦ Outsourced;Grimm ◦ Grimm ◦ Cis Woman ◦ AutiAce Lesbian ◦ Autistic, PTSD

Theo ◦ Born 1999 ◦ Outsourced;Teen Wolf ◦ Miscecanis Omega/Chimera WereCoyote-Wolf Hybrid ◦ Intersex Man ◦ Lithosexual ◦ PTSD

Li ◦ Born 2001 ◦ Outsourced;Teen Wolf ◦ Miscecanis Alpha/Werewolf ◦ Cis Man ◦ Bisexual ◦ ADHD, IED

Mason ◦ Born 2001 ◦ Outsourced;Teen Wolf ◦ Human ◦ Cis Man ◦ Gay

Corey ◦ Born 2001 ◦ Outsourced;Teen Wolf ◦ Chimera WereChamemelon-Ghost Rider Hybrid ◦ Cis Man ◦ Pansexual ◦ MDD, PTSD, Pica

Adam ◦ Born 2000 ◦ Insourced ◦ Human ◦ Cis Man ◦ Asexual ◦ Autistic, ADHD

Q2 ◦ Born 2023 ◦ Insourced/Outsourced;The Magicians ◦ Foxkith Adult Golem ◦ Golem Man ◦ Bisexual ◦ Autistic, Nonspeaking

Other:

12th Doctor ◦ Born ??? ◦ Outsourced;Doctor Who ◦ Galifreyan ◦ Quoi ◦ Quoi ◦ Autistic, ADHD

Monroe ◦ Born 198? ◦ Outsourced;Grimm ◦ Wesen(Blutbaden) ◦ Autigender Man ◦ Heterosexual ◦ Autistic

Living Characters:

Insourced:

Dess – Human Glow | Demisexual | ADHD | Adopted daughter of Logan | Wife to Thad

Thad – Human | Heteroflexible | QPP to Liam | Husband to Dess

Lorella – Ranger | Mother of Rune | Friend of Logan and Meyleth

Rhaneo – Ranger | Father of Rune | Friend of Logan and Meyleth

Lianna – Half-Fae | Daughter of Logan | QPP & Bloodbond of Rune | Facet (Former Parame) of Mel&

Hornrietta aka Horny – Chicken | in C/O Jack

Planty – Alien Sentient Plant Creature | Gift from Loki

Posey – Alien/Earth Cyborg Plant Creature | Planty’s Daughter | in C/O Meyleth

Outsourced:

Jenna – Human | Teen Wolf Fanon | ADHD | Mother of Li

David – Human | Teen Wolf | Step-Father of Li

Beckett – Human/? | Artemis Fowl | Child of Artemis Sr. & Angeline | Brother of Artemis & Twin of Miles

Miles – Human | Artemis Fowl | Child of Artemis Sr. & Angeline | Brother of Artemis & Twin of Beckett

Rosalee – Wesen/Fuchsbau | Grimm | Wife of Monroe | Friend of Nick

Loki – Frost Giant | MCU | Plant mom of Planty

Missy – Galifreyan/Time Lord | Doctor Who | Companion of The Doctor

Josh – Lycanthrope/Magician | The Magicians | Bicurious | Partner of Margo & Fen

Fen – Lycanthrope/Fillorian | The Magicians | Bisexual | Autistic, ADHD | Partner of Margo & Josh | Wife of Eliot

Arielle – Fillorian | The Magicians | Deceased Wife of Quentin | Deceased partner of Eliot

[loupy-mongoose]

Idea popped in my brain

Randy and Akoya visit the cafe to settle the situation on the pregnancy

Cherry Lilligant: Hi there what can I start you out with

Randy: Just some vanilla wafers and water please

Akoya: one of everything

Cherry Lilligant: Alright tha- what

Randy: Akoya we can barely afford rent what makes you think we can pay for all of that

Akoya: actually double it

I hope I got the right Lilligant! It was the only one I saw on you page.

Randy wouldn't eat vanilla wafers, but he'd gladly buy them for Lav. X3

[lastoneout]

Listen IF it comes down to Kukui v Laventon then ofc Kukui(joking or not) is gonna be like "I must avenge my wife's honor" and Laventon, who is a sweetheart, will just go "haha oh no" and then CYLLENE shows up with her SWORD and Lav, trying and failing to control the situation, focuses on the wrong thing and is like "I believe he's actually a wrestler, dear" and Cyllene immediately hands him her sword like "Dont worry, I am also a master of hand to hand combat"

And Kukui isn't going to turn that down, so the finals are just an all out brawl between one actual contestant and one Angry Wife, both of which are trying to defend and/or avenge their respective partner's honor, which ofc, is the coolest shit anyone there has seen, including Laventon, who loves his wife more than he loves not supporting needless violence, and thus starts cheering her on

And the audience is rowdy as hell like Akari and Rei are going wild, Lillie is cheering louder than anyone thought she could, Burnet us cheering even louder than that, Ingo and Emmet are reffing the match(if only to stop them from challenging anyone to a battle bcs lets be real there are like at LEAST fifteen champion trainers here they WANT to battle), Nemona managed to meet Ash(oops) and both of them have been banished outside bcs they are absolutely battling and no one can stop them, most of the other Professors are placing bets including the ones who claimed they are "far too old for this sort of nonsense", Jessie, James, and Meowth are selling snacks, at least five people are holding Kamado back bcs he totally wants in on the wrestling thing, Sycamore absolutely DID take his shirt off in the semi-final match and is arguing with Oak about fairy types while shirtless which is going about as well as you'd expect

and whoever owns the building is never renting it out to any of these clowns ever again

[renfas]

Takimpregnering, unngå vekst av mose og lav

Et tak som er tatt godt vare på, er viktig for helsen til hele huset ditt. Det holder deg trygg mot været, bidrar til å holde huset ditt på en behagelig temperatur og gjør at det ser bedre ut. Mose og lav kan imidlertid vokse på taket ditt over tid, noe som kan forårsake mye skade hvis du ikke tar vare på det med en gang. Takimpregnering er en god måte å håndtere dette problemet på.

Hva er takimpregnering?

Den sikre prosessen kalt takimpregnering stopper veksten av mose, lav og andre farlige organismer på taket ditt. For denne behandlingen brukes en spesiell løsning for å komme inn i takmaterialet og danne en barriere som holder vann ute og stopper planter fra å vokse, der de ikke hører hjemme. På denne måten får du ikke bare taket ditt til å vare lenger, men du beholder også dets flotte utseende og strukturelle stabilitet.

Problemene med mose og lav

Ved første øyekast virker kanskje ikke mose og lav farlig, men over tid kan de gjøre mye skade på taket ditt. Hvordan gjøre det:

Fuktighetsbevaring: Mose og lav er motstandsdyktige mot vann som kan skade dekkmaterialer. Dette kan føre til lekkasjer og skader på hjemmet ditt fra vann.

Strukturelle skader: Disse organismenes røtter kan komme gjennom takmaterialer og svekke takets struktur ved å lage sprekker.

Estetiske problemer: Mose og lav kan få taket ditt til å se like gammelt og ignorert ut, noe som kan få hele huset til å se verre ut.

Økte vedlikeholdskostnader: Utgifter til vedlikehold øker fordi mose og lav kan skade ting og trenger dyre reparasjoner eller til og med nytt tak hvis de ikke fjernes.

Fordeler med takimpregnering

Det er mange fordeler ved å bruke en takimpregneringsprosess, for eksempel:

Hindrer vekst av mose og lav: Den største fordelen med takimpregnering er at den stopper mose, lav og andre farlige organismer i å vokse. Dette holder taket ditt rent og fritt for planter du ikke vil ha der.

Forlenger takets levetid: Takimpregnering hjelper taket ditt til å vare lenger ved å holde det tørt og hindre planter i å vokse på det. Dette betyr at du ikke trenger å tenke på å bytte ut eller fikse ting hele tiden.

Forbedrer utseendet: Et tak som er godt tatt vare på får huset ditt til å se bedre ut og øker kantsteinsverdien. Takimpregnering hjelper taket ditt til å se rent og nytt ut i lang tid.

Kostnadseffektiv: Takimpregnering kan hjelpe deg med å spare penger over tid ved å redusere behovet for kostbare reparasjoner og takskifte.

Forbedrer eiendomsverdien: Et tak som har blitt tatt godt vare på er tiltalende for potensielle kjøpere, noe som kan gjøre hjemmet ditt mer verdifullt.

Hvorfor velge Renfas for takimpregnering?

Vi er eksperter på å tilby takimpregneringstjenester av høy kvalitet her på Ren Fas. Her er grunnen til at du bør leie oss for å ta vare på taket ditt:

Kompetanse og erfaring: Teamet vårt har mange års erfaring på området, så de vet hvordan de skal behandle taket ditt riktig og stoppe mose og lav fra å vokse på det.

Høykvalitetsprodukter: For takimpregnering bruker vi kun de beste produktene og løsningene som gjør at sikkerheten varer lenge og resultatene er gode.

Profesjonell service: Teamet vårt er forpliktet til å gi deg service, som er både profesjonell og pålitelig. Vi er stolte av arbeidet vi gjør og prøver alltid å gå utover dine forventninger.

Omfattende løsninger: Vi gjør mer enn bare å impregnere tak. For å holde taket ditt i god form tilbyr vi også en rekke takreparasjoner og -pleietjenester.

Kundetilfredshet: Siden vi ønsker at kundene våre skal være fornøyde, jobber vi tett med deg for å forstå dine behov og komme opp med løsninger som passer akkurat for deg.

Beskytt taket ditt i dag

Ikke vent til mose og alger har gjort mye skade på taket ditt. Gjør noe for å beskytte eiendommen din ved å impregnere taket. Vi er her hos Renfas for å hjelpe deg med å holde taket ditt i god form. For de beste taktettings- og takreparasjonstjenestene for å holde hjemmet ditt trygt og se flott ut, ring vårt team av eksperter i dag.

Er du klar for å holde takrens ditt trygt? Besøk Renfas akkurat nå for å finne ut mer om våre takimpregneringstjenester og avtale et møte. Våre profesjonelle tjenester vil holde taket ditt i god form og gi deg trygghet.

[techprodata]

Forbrukslån - What You Need to Know to Find Lav Rente

Consumer loans provide you with access to products or services you may be unable to afford upfront by spreading the cost over a set period. But be mindful of fees and interest rates before agreeing, as these could make payments more costly than anticipated. Mortgages, car loans, credit cards and student loans are all forms of consumer loans that should be used responsibly in order to increase…

[winreyplace]

Hi! 💖 May we ask what was your first experience soulbonding like? How did you discover soulbonding and who was the first? We're very new to this and would love to hear your story if thats okay!!

Mel&: Hello! I, Mel&, and Lav are gonna answer this together, first me and then him.

My first munbonds started out as immersive daydreaming paras. I used to spend hours pacing back and forth in the dining room of my childhood home, neuronarrating out loud to myself and going on countless adventurers with my beloved (queerplatonic) best friend, Rune, and our father figure, Logan, along with a hodgepodge of my favorite characters. Around age 14 or so, I started interacting with them outside of their stories and imagining them alongside me in day-to-day life. At this stage, I called them Inklings after a book idea about a world of living characters which I have yet to put to good use.

Then I met Lav, and things advanced to a whole new level when she expressed awed enthusiasm and a genuine desire to get to know them as people, not just characters. Shortly after, one of my online friends at the time introduced me to soulbonding, and everything clicked into place.

Since then, the vast majority of our munbonds have been formed by both of us at the same time with characters from existing media. I’ll pass the ball over to Lav so she can recount one of our earliest experiences with this type of munbonding.

Lav: Logan very briefly shared what happened when he became my munbond in his intro here. Honestly, I just talked to Logan and Rune a lot over Discord (with Mel proxying) and also asked Mel tons of questions about who they were. This allowed me to get really close with them, establishing that deep emotional connection that is so fundamental to munbonds, so that when I actually tried to interact with them on my own, it was as simple as reaching out with a "hello?" in my mind and they just responded back (though as Logan said, it surprised me a lot when they did and

The first time Mel and I munbonded with a character together was with our munbond Damien, who is now my husband. Mel and I were in a long-distance relationship at the time when Mel told me she was experiencing some bond feels for a character in this podcast she was listening to. She then shared Damien's introduction episode with me. Despite him obviously being a jerkass, I felt a deep connection to what I heard behind his words: a boy aching for family and belonging. I immediately agreed with Mel that Damien needed us, so we decided to offer him a munbond connection in the hopes that he would agree.

We stole Damien away from his universe into a quiet room in our shared bondspace to talk with him. He was very wary about us and on guard, but he agreed to hear us out on the promise that he could leave right after if he wanted. We explained to him that in our world, he is a fictional character and we are people called munbonders who can communicate with fictional characters. We further explained that after listening to his story, we felt very drawn to him and were offering to munbond with him proper and if he accepted, he'd have a rent-free safe space to call home, all the food we could want, and most of all, the family and love that he always desired. It took him some time to process the offer, but his curiosity about us two peculiar girls and the strange pull he had towards us (bond feelings are often mutual!) eventually led him to become our munbond, though not without a few bumps in the road in our relationship. And he has been with us ever since.

So that's how munbonding typically goes for us: we feel a munbond "ping" with a character in their canon, learn all we can about their story until we know them, reach out to them or bring them to us, explain our position, make the munbond offer, and if they agree to it, we make an effort to strengthen the connection until communication feels as natural as speaking to someone in meatspace.

Damien: Also, before you get all up in arms about the "kidnapping", me being such a jerk and an ass at the time, I wouldn't have heard them out any other way. I am eternally grateful that they took a chance on me and wanted to love me, giving me better than anything I was gonna get in my source later on. I love my girls and they treat me very well.

[birdsviewblog]

Sambla - DK!

Category : Finance

Region : Denmark

[lavrentelan]

Leter du etter et rimelig forbrukslån med lav rente? Da må du sjekke ut https://www.lavrentelån.no

[bodoposten]

Ber nordmenn sjekke lokalt helsevesen før avreise

Svak kronekurs gjør at flere nordmenn velger reisemål utenfor eurosonen. Skadeforebygger advarer mot å ha for høye forventninger til helsevesenet. – Noen får en ubehagelig overraskelse når de blir syke. Til tross for stigende rente og lav kjøpekraft melder turoperatørene om stor pågang på utenlandsreiser denne sommeren. I tillegg til å velge klassiske feriemål som Spania og Hellas, søker nå…

[opskriftertilida]

Kanelsnegle

Tid i alt 2 timer

Arbejdstid 45 min.

Antal 6 stk. 

Dejen

0,75 dl mælk

10 g gær

50 g smør

0,50 tsk vaniljesukker

25 g sukker

0,50 tsk stødt kardemomme

0,50 tsk kanel

30 g fuldkornshvedemel

1 æg

170 g hvedemel

0,25 tsk salt

Remonce

75 g smør, stuetemperatur

50 g sukker

37,50 g brun farin

0,50 tsk kanel

Glasur

50 g flormelis

vand

Rør gæren ud i en skål med stuetempereret mælk. Smelt smør i en gryde ved lav varme, lad det køle lidt af til stuetemperatur og rør smørret i skålen med mælk og rør derefter æg i.

Bland sukker, vaniljesukker, salt, kanel og kardemomme og fuldkornshvedemel godt sammen i en skål og rør det i skålen med de våde ingredienser. Rør det godt igennem, til det er helt ensartet.

Tilsæt hvedemel lidt efter lidt og ælt dejen grundigt i 5-10 minutter, gerne på røremaskine ved lav hastighed. Dejen skal være smidig og blød og den sætter sig mere under hævning. Lad dejen hæve i en skål med et rent viskestykke over på køkkenbordet i 30 minutter og rør imens remonce sammen i en skål.

Rul dejen ud i stor retangel på et meldrysset bord. Smør remonce på hele fladen, med undtagelse af den yderste kant på 4 cm på langs af den ene lange del af retanglen. Rul dejen sammen til en rulle, afslutning med den yderste del uden remonce.

Skær 1 cm tykke skiver og sæt dem på en bageplade med bagepapir. Bøj gerne den yderste kant ind under kanelsneglen og luk bunden. Det hjælper til at holde på den lækre remonce. Lad kanelsneglene hæve på køkkenbordet i 45 minutter under et rent klæde

Bag i en forvarmet ovn ved 175 grader varmluft i cirka 17 minutter. Lad sneglene køle lidt af på bagepladen og pisk imens en tyk hvid glasur, som kanelsneglene kan pyntes med inden servering.

[forbrukslan]

Forbrukslån lav rente

Forbrukslånlavrente.com jobber hardt for å sikre at kundene får de beste tilbudene og de mest gunstige rentene på markedet. Nettsiden bruker avanserte algoritmer og teknologi for å sammenligne tilbudene fra forskjellige långivere og finne de beste løsningene for kundene.

Nettstedet gir også en omfattende og detaljert oversikt over lånevilkårene for hvert lånetilbud, slik at kundene kan gjøre en informert beslutning når de velger et lån. Forbrukslånlavrente.com sørger også for at kundene får godkjent lånetilbudene raskt, vanligvis innen 24 timer.

Forbrukslånlavrente.com/

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[oslourologi]

Fordelen med omskjæring i menns liv

Hva er omskjæring? Omskjæring er den mest kjente kirurgiske prosedyren som brukes for å fjerne forhuden fra penis. Denne medisinske prosedyren utføres vanligvis på nylig unnfangede nyfødte barn, kreditert til sosial skikk eller streng overbevisning. Noen ganger kan det utledes fra forebyggende medisinske tjenester eller individuell renslighet. I denne medisinske prosedyren elimineres huden som dekker toppen av penis ved hjelp av unikt planlagt klinisk utstyr.

Fordeler med omskjæring Denne medisinske prosedyren er imidlertid ikke obligatorisk for alle menn, inkludert babyer og voksne. Det er han eller familiens helt eget valg å gå til denne operasjonen.

Følgende er en del av de medisinske fordelene som kan få folk til å bevege seg fremover: 1. Reduserte urinveissykdommer: Hos gutter skal satsingen på urinforurensning være veldig lav. Uomskårne menn vil sannsynligvis støte på slike forurensninger av og til, noe som kan føre til nyreproblemer senere.

2. Videreutviklet renslighet: Omskjæring kommer sannsynligvis til å gjøre det enkelt for gutter å vaske penisene sine effektivt, noe som åpenbart kan videreutvikle renslighet.

3. Mindre sjanse for fysisk overførbare sykdommer: Menn som har gått gjennom denne medisinske prosedyren er ment å ha en lavere sjanse for noen få fysisk overførbare infeksjoner, inkludert eksepsjonelt skjemmede infeksjoner (HIV).

4. Reduserte penisproblemer: Under visse omstendigheter kan prostata være plagsom eller vanskelig å trekke ut (phimosis). Det kan føre til forverring av hodet eller forhuden av penis.

5. Redusert risiko for ondartet penisvekst: Penissykdom er en alvorlig uvanlig sykdom og er mer vanlig hos menn som har gjennomgått den medisinske prosedyren.

Gambler relatert til medisinsk prosedyre Der det er mange fordeler knyttet til omskjæring, er det heller ikke mange farer. Følgende er et par problemer knyttet til denne medisinske prosedyren:

Forhuden kan kuttes for langt eller for kort. Restitusjon etter medisinsk prosedyre kan ta lengre tid. En hudklaff kan feste seg til penis igjen og kreve en annen medisinsk prosedyre.

Klinisk gadget for omskjæring Alisklamp kan betraktes som en innovativ avansert forbruksstøtte-gadget som kan brukes til å utføre prosedyren. Enheten ble nylig distribuert i Norge for å forbedre sikkerheten. I kjølvannet av rengjøring av penis, gis nærliggende sedasjon til pasienten. Innretningen skal ha to forskjellige deler: en plastlås og en plastsylinder. Under en medisinsk prosedyre påføres plastsylinderen over glans og den ekstra huden trekkes over sylinderen. En plastskinne plasseres deretter over den trukket forhuden. For tiden kuttes den ekstra forhuden og elimineres med liten eller ingen drenering eller pine.

Forholdsregler etter kirurgi 1. Det er avgjørende å holde området rent for å unngå sykdomsoverføring. 3. Når penis blir reparert, kan den godt vaskes med rensemiddel og vann. 4. Voksne bør prøve å ikke bli fysisk før skaden har leget. 5. Forutsatt at det er død, feber eller rødhet, snakk sympatisk med spesialisten for å unngå vanskeligheter.

For mer info:-

omskjæring pris

gutt omskjæring