#foods good for liver repair

[lucycola]

TOS!Spock x Fem!Reader; The Visitor Part 2

ON HIATUS FOR THE TIME BEING

Modern!AU where Spock is an alien who lands in the reader’s backyard and seeks shelter while repairing his ship. Eventual romance and smut.

In The Original Series it is said Spock is a vegetarian, not vegan, so I’m basing this part off of that information. 

WARNINGS: Mentions of blood and bodily harm. Awkwardness. Spock is tall and the Reader is not. Foot kink if you squint. Not proof read at all. PART ONE 

Part 2:  And the zipping white light beams disregarding bombs and satellites. That was the turning point- that was one lonely night

Sparse sun rays of a dreary morning ghosted through the curtains of your bedroom. The night was enveloped in sweaty tossing and turning. You remembered anxious nights before the first day of school where it took you hours to fall asleep and when you finally did you dreamt of still trying to fall asleep. You could never tell if you actually slept that way.

This night was no different.

It was easier to help your visitor into the house, as he wasn’t unconscious this time. He had leaned onto your shoulder and excused himself to the bathroom to change.

You hadn’t been sure what to do at that point, but directed him exhaustedly to a spare room. You had sealed most of the rooms to reserve heat to save money. You felt guilty for how cold it had been and thankfully the old heater in the corner worked.

You shut yourself up with your dog and lay with the fire poker for good measure. You were still equally spooked as you were tranced. Was it a dream? The green blood felt real, but it was so outlandish it couldn’t possibly be.

At some point Spaghetti was scratching the door so hard you let her out of the room. If she wanted her liver eaten, fine so be it.

When you were sure it was finally morning you roused from bed feeling your whole body ache.

You slowly pushed open the door wincing at the creak. His room was only a little down the hall. You ridiculously crawled on all fours until you came next to his doorframe. You swore you had left it closed but now it was just wide enough for your dog to push her way through.

You peeked in and saw he was lying under the two quilts you had placed atop him. Spaghetti was nestled into his side and you inwardly screeched. His head faced away from you as you slowly crept in. 

His chest rose and fell calmly. The pit of anxiety in your stomach unfurled into a sigh of relief. Spaghetti’s tail began to thump and you slowly crept back out. 

You dawdled to the den slowly and fumbled the fire poker back into its stand. 

You felt a chill slither down your back and absentmindedly you fiddled around for some kindling to make another fire. Despite not having cleaned out the ashes from the night before it caught easily. You would have to chop more before the weekend was over and fortunately for you the logs outside were protected with a tarp. Otherwise they would be soaking wet. 

You didn’t know why such a thing preoccupied your mind. There was a damn alien in your house and firewood was at the top of your list? 

You fell back into the couch. How long would he be here? Would his own kind come looking for him? Would your kind look for him? You desperately did not want the FBI knocking at your door. 

What the hell were you going to feed him? Could he eat Earth food? He did say he was half human-albeit he also said he was a vegetarian. What were you supposed to feed a vegetarian.

“Woof.”

“Dog,” you huffed in response, accustomed to your pet’s voice. 

“Human.”

You looked up to see your guest had risen, still in your grandfather’s clothes. He was a bit pale, but seemed alright for the most part. Spaghetti was at his side, tail still wagging. Damn dog. 

You stood immediately, “Did I wake you?”

“Yes, but it is of no consequence,” he replied, “I extend my gratitude for your assistance last night.”

You nodded, mouth feeling dry. You ran your fingers through your hair, finding a large knot. Your neck flushed. You must have looked awful. 

He himself endured the awkward silence. Spaghetti was the first to break it. 

“Breakfast,” you chirped, “I need to feed her. Are you hungry?”

You went into the kitchen, trying to smooth down your hair and retrieved her food bag from the pantry. If you didn’t keep it locked up she’d devour all of it in one day and probably die of an intestinal blockage. You almost learned that the hard way shortly after inheriting her and the house. 

Spaghetti trudged to you once her bowl was filled and began chomping away. 

Spock still stood at the corner of the rug, the left side of his frame bathed in little fire light. You avoided his gaze by ducking into the fridge.

“You said-eh-Vulcans don’t eat meat, right? Can Vulcans eat eggs and toast?” you asked, still feeling the heat at your neck and ears. 

“I suppose that will be acceptable.” 

His voice was much closer, causing you to jump and hit your head inside the refrigerator. You turned and found that indeed he was much closer than before. You hadn’t even heard his footsteps.

You had forgotten how tall he was. 

“Right!” you blurted, “I’ll get started on that. Do you drink coffee?”

He shook his head, “Although my mother has an affinity for it, Vulcans prefer tea.”

You nodded again, “I’ll see what I can do.” You began to rummage through the cupboard. 

“Could I be of assistance?” he asked, having taken a step back. Did he sense it-how you felt?

“No-no, please. You’re still hurt. Just sit down.”

He didn’t move to argue with you and did as instructed. He laid his hands atop the kitchen table, brushing off some crumbs from the placemat. 

Why were you so flustered by him? You didn’t feel that way helping him change or into bed. If anything you were wholly consumed by anxiety. 

What if you hadn’t stitched him properly? you remembered thinking, What if he bled to death in your house? 

He had developed a shiver about him that night so you layered him heavy with quilts, even pulling one off your bed for good measure. You had whispered fiercely into the old heater in the corner, threatening it with the dumpster if it didn’t turn on. Thankfully the old crystals rattled to life and filled the room with its orange glow. 

Now he was at your kitchen table politely and patiently waiting to be fed. Spaghetti was done with her own breakfast and settled at his feet. 

You scowled inwardly. That dog had never been that nice to you. You wondered if it was because of the scent of his clothes-reminding her of her old master. 

You managed to find some ancient tea your grandmother had in the cabinet and set the kettle to boil. You hoped to every and any holy entity it didn’t taste like shit. You fetched eggs from the fridge and procured a pan. 

“How do you like your eggs?” you asked. 

“I was not aware there were multiple ways to like them.”

“Well, there’s more than one way to skin a cat.”

“Am I to understand your kind consumes them?” he quipped.

You stifled a sigh, settling on whipping the eggs in a bowl, “No-we don’t eat cats. Well, some people might. I’ve never met one. It’s just an expression really.”

Neither had you seriously met someone seriously considering eating a feline either. You had only heard racists jokes, which was not something you wanted to unpack right now. 

While you were scrambling the eggs Spaghetti had managed to flip over her food bowl and began to whine. She sat sternly by it, despite the fact that it had long been empty and she knew how to flip it back. 

She whined loudly, wanting more kibble. 

“No,” you replied, “That’s all you get for now. Don’t indulge her-she’s just an asshole.”

Despite your order Spock was already crouching with the ghost of a wince on his features. He flipped the bowl back over. 

You were seriously considering eating dog. 

“Do your people have expressions?” you asked after depositing toast and eggs on a plate for the both of you. 

He settled back down at the table, his reply deterred by the sudden whistle of the kettle. You rushed to it, setting it off the eye. You poured the water in his cup, hoping the tea wasn’t awful. It almost looked like it dated nearly twenty years. When you had first moved in and were cleaning out the freezer you found frozen vegetable and meats dating even farther back. 

“Yes, but they are not as colorful as Terran ones I have found. I know a few from my mother, but none of the likes of which you shared today.”

You blushed again, “I’m sorry-it’s my raising I guess.” You set his plate and tea before him gingerly, avoid eye contact. You felt silly. 

You had a million questions. How far was Vulcan from Earth-what was it like? What was their language like? Did they all wear robes as he did or was that exclusively for travel? Were their more planets beyond Earth like Vulcan? Did all Vulcans have pointy ears?

“Do you have shame?” he asked. 

You were snapped out of your inner wondering. 

“What?” you sat across from him. 

“Your tone indicates your ‘raising’, as you put it, as an excuse rather than an explanation. It would seem you are shameful.”

You sighed for a moment and decided to be truthful, “Sometimes. Not for my grandparents or this house. I mean we weren’t the richest or the most sophisticated.”

He looked at his plate for a moment and picked up the fork, twisting it in his right hand. 

“I understand,” was all he offered. 

You normally ate a quick pace. Spaghetti had trained you that way. You had to be fast so she wouldn’t purposely drool all over your feet or lap. 

The visitor ate slowly, without an hint of whether he liked his breakfast or not. You flushed again at the sight of your empty plate and his still half full. 

He probably thought you were a pig. 

“Do you?” you blurted. 

“Pardon?” He glanced up from his ministrations. 

“Feel ashamed of your upbringing?” 

“Vulcans do not feel shame,” he stated plainly, resuming his meal. Spaghetti trudged over to him and began to slobber at his socks. He gently prodded her head to the side, not paying her much attention other than so.

“Why?” you asked incredulously. 

“Shame is a human emotion.”

“What-do Vulcans have their own set or something?” you snarked, allowing yourself to giggle. 

“Vulcans adhere to a practice in which we do not partake in such expression. Such is the philosophy of Surak.”

You stared at him. Like you were supposed to know what that meant.

“Who’s Surak?”

His right brow twitched ever so slightly. 

“A Vulcan philosopher.” He drank his tea, once again with no hint to whether it tasted good or bad. “One who taught that emotions makes one illogical and hindered the improvement and growth of a successful and peaceful society.”

You tapped your foot, beginning to feel the red swell on aggravation behind your lips.

“You have no shame, yet you understand it? How is that possible?”

“I was taught the history of my civilization. We were once like the humans-living rashly at the expense of survival-at the expense of our evolution to a greater society.” 

“So, what, you’re saying Vulcans are better than humans for that?”

He placed the utensil back down cleanly on the plate and moved his elbows to prop on the table. He steepled his long fingers and locked his eyes with yours.

“Once again you keep inferring from declarations I have not given.”

You crossed your arms, “Indirectly. You were once like humans and now that you’re not you’re better for it?”

“Once again-”

The shrill bell of the kitchen phone interrupted the tension, slicing through it with each ring.

You went to it quickly, leaving your breakfast alone. Please, God, don’t let it be the FBI. 

“Hello?” 

“Good mornin’!”

“Doctor Beltik!” you strained through clenched teeth. You instantly recognized the cheery voice, slowly deteriorating in sharpness from its age. 

The town veterinarian was as old nearly as the town itself-as old as your grandparents would be if they were still here. He was a good friend to them and Spaghetti’s mortal enemy. 

“Little lamb, how are ya?”

“I’m well.” 

You glanced back at Spock and mouthed an apology. He only nodded ever so slightly and continued his breakfast while coolly keeping your dog at bay with the heel of his foot. 

A fucking pro already. You chuckled at that. 

“And the ole girl?” 

You stifled a huff. You did not have time for old chit chat, as much as you loved the old vet. 

“She’s the same-Doctor Beltik I really-” you started but were cut off.

“I won’t keep ya long, lamb, I wanted to ask if your power went out last night. It was quite a storm-largest lightening strike we’ve seen since your ma was a wee thing! Darned thing lasted a long time, nearly blinded me! Not that I’m not already halfway there anyway.”

You paled a bit feeling the eggs churn in your belly. What if someone saw the crash or the ship? How foolish could you be to think anyone could really believe that that was lightening. The vet was a fossil and maybe a little silly, but anyone in their right mind-”

“Y/N?” the vet asked, “Ya still there?”

“Yes!” you sputtered, “It woke me up, but I didn’t have too much trouble going back to sleep. Bad weather is like white noise, y’know.”

“Did your power go out? All of downtown went black.”

Shit. 

“Wow, really? Uh-it did for a short time. Listen, doc-I’ve got biscuits in the oven-”

“That’s alright. Enjoy your Sunday, lamb!”

“Thankyou, Doctor Beltik.”

You hung up the phone and grumbled. You smoothed out your robe and turned around.

The table was empty. No spaceman. Spaghetti was sniffing at the back door after leaving a trail of drool from where Spock had sat to the doorframe. 

Great, just great. 

---

You were already half way out the door, tugging your rainboots when you spotted him at the tree line. 

“Spock!” you called, “What’re you doing?”

It had already began to sprinkle. You darted towards the tree line, the ache in your calves reminding you of the night before-both dragging and half carrying him. 

You nearly ran into him as he stopped so suddenly you had no time to slow down. He steadied you with a strong hand, fingers brushing the bare skin of your collar bone. Droplets of morning drizzled flecked his dark hair and you found yourself crooning your neck back to meet his gaze. 

“I must repair the ship,” he stated plainly, unmoved by your close proximity to him. 

You couldn’t speak. The pads of his fingers were warm at the base of your throat. You felt a chill run up the entirety of your body. 

“Breathe,” he commanded. 

You took in the damp morning air and felt your face go hot immediately. You hadn’t even realized you were holding your breath.

He let you go and you instinctively took a step back. Your brain was fuzzy. It kept shouting the same things over and over, as if arguing with itself. 

Friend. Predator. Stranger. Liver.  

You hated how tall he was. 

He turned curtly and began into the woods. You bumbled after him. 

“I hope no one saw the crash,” you informed him, shivering. “The vet over the phone saw the light from your ship and it knocked out the town’s power, not just my house last night!” 

“There was suitable cloud cover and I was able to move quietly under the detection of Earth’s authorities,” he replied, “Until the storm worsened. I was temporarily blinded and almost struck a metal structure- I believe it’s purpose is to provide the facilities to operate mobile communications.”

“You mean a cell tower?”

You stumbled over a root, sliding in the mud. You grabbed onto his sleeve without thinking. He locked his grip under your elbow and helped you along. You felt pathetic, but steadier. 

“Affirmative. Fortunately, I avoided it,” he explained, “But I was not so quick to avoid the trees up there.” 

He motioned with his hand and you saw the tops of the evergreens were indeed quite taken out. 

The ship loomed into view, sleek and colorless in design. It seemed smaller in the daytime. 

He stopped short of where the ramp used to be and pressed his fingers to the cool metal. The maw of the ship opened quietly and out streamed the light again. 

“The right side of the landing gear is damaged along with a small piece of the hull. Some of the infrastructure of the cargo bay has been warped,” he continued, still leading you carefully up the slick ramp. It’s almost like he knew how you had to crawl that night in order to keep from falling.

He was right. In the dark you had never seen it. Beams fashioned of the same white metal that crafted the cargo hold were indeed bent and some broken. One had been completely severed and was like a sharp pike. It sported a coat of dried green. 

You glanced at his right flank and back up at him. He did not acknowledge your expression of horror.

“What is unknown to me is how the sensors did not detect the cell tower.”

You realized he was still holding on to your elbow. 

“Maybe something was already broken?” you offered in a soft voice. 

He looked down at you and removed his hold. 

“I will investigate as I was not able to last evening,” he replied already starting up the ladder. “Then I must repair the ship and return to Vulcan.”

You followed after him carefully, not wanting to fall. “And how are you gonna do that? There’s not exactly many alien spaceship workshops around here.”

You poked your head through. The cockpit seemed to have the Tardis effect. Unlike the outside it seemed much bigger on the inside. Lines of soft light lined the elongated wind screen and the runway between seats. Spock was kneeling at the console. 

“Aboard each private Vulcan vessel are tools and minor parts for replacement. Although it will take me some time I should be able to repair it sufficiently to return me home.”

You ran your fingers gently along the railing along the bottom of the glass outlooking the forest. 

You finally registered what he had said and whipped around. 

“You can’t do that in the middle of the woods out here! Someone already noticed the ship’s light last night. Who knows that someone won’t come poking around here. You-” you sighed and rubbed your temples, “-you need somewhere to work.”

He stood, once again towering over you at too close distance. “I suppose you already have a space in mind?”

“Actually,” you tapped your finger against your lips, “I might. If it will fit. God willing.”

He eyes did not meet yours, but below. You didn’t realize it at first but his gaze was following your finger, right at your lips. You didn’t know if he knew it, but he had began to chew on his bottom lip. 

You felt heat blooming at your neck. 

“But-!” you interrupted your line of thinking, “I don’t think I can tow this thing with my truck. Can it fly anymore?”

He nodded, “That is something I can tend to now. Although it is still cloudy it might be preferrable if we perform this operation at night.”

“This thing already stands out like a sore thumb from the sky-I mean it’s straight chrome almost.”

Almost. Not nearly as silver. More delicate and duller. 

“Then I shall try now,” he said and rapidly moved back to the console, flipping switches and the like.

“Wait-wait-” you scrambled back to the ladder, “I don’t want to be on this thing when it moves.” 

You were already half way down when he murmured, 

“Humans. So peculiar.”

--

How it fit into your garage was nothing short of a miracle. You never kept the truck under there anyway. Most of your grandfather’s tools had been stuffed to the side. There’s used to be more vehicles,  but in your grandparents will you had been instructed to sell the car and boat to help you with your finances. You could sell the house if you wanted, but you didn’t. 

Not yet anyway. 

There was a large concrete pad in front of the double garage doors and you stood there in the raining morning, motioning with your hands for him to land there. From there on you guided him to slowly back in into place. It funnily reminded you of helping friends’ parents park at graduation. 

Instead of activating the ramp which if extended would destroy the stairs up into the rest of the house, he appeared from a sort of port hole near the back of the vessel. 

“This will do quite well, Y/N, thankyou,” he said.

You squeezed your arm and nodded. You looked up at the sound of Spaghetti scratching the basement door. 

“I-I need a shower,” you said, “Are you all set?”

“Affirmative.” 

He had already began to examine landing gear, having a sort of tool belt of sorts that resembled the ships lack of color and sleek design about his waist.

“I’ll be up stairs if you need anything. Just holler.”

“I will, pi’veh.”

You slipped out of your boots and left them at the base of the staircase. He glanced back at you as the creaking of your bare footsteps filled the room.

He turned back to his work, noting subconsciously that your nails were painted.

Peculiar indeed.

#spock x reader #spock xfem!reader #spock #tos!spock x reader #star trek #startrek #tos #the original series #lucycola #the visitor #Spaceman by The Killers

[copperbadge]

Radio Free Monday

Good morning everyone, and welcome to Radio Free Monday!

Ways to Give:

oloriel linked to a fundraiser for Sean, who is close to his $5K fundraising goal for a liver transplant; he needs a healthier environment to live in once he has the transplant and they're raising the funds for a new place and at least some partial furnishings. You can read more and support the fundraiser here.

gwydion's very elderly car broke down in late October; the repair, to a cooling hose, has cheap parts but expensive labor, and ate most of zir budget for the month. Ze can't do without a car, being disabled, but can't afford to replace it either; ze's raising $280 to help cover bills and the repair. You can give via PayPal here.

nivchara-yahel and her sibling rivalconga are raising money for rent, medicine, and living expenses; they need to pay November rent by the 10th to avoid eviction. You can read more, reblog, and find giving information here.

Anon linked to a fundraiser for The Environmental Conservancy of North Port, Florida, who are trying to raise $14K to purchase a parcel of land that will protect a group of gopher tortoise burrows from being forcibly relocated, which could stress or kill the tortoises, a threatened but keystone species in Florida (their burrows are often home to numerous other species). You can read more and support the fundraiser here.

Buy Stuff, Help Out:

francescaswords is dealing with some worsening health issues which are preventing her from working as she completes her degree, which has had funding cut because she's dropped to a part-time student. She's raising funds by sharing her latest novel, the YA contemporary fantasy Rotting Trees, on Patreon between now and December 2024, where patrons can read the book in installments for as low as $1.50/month. The novel follows a girl with a cursed family necklace and the antiques shop she visits to try to break the curse. You can read more and reblog here or join the Patreon here.

Recurring Needs:

rusty-chevy is very close to her fundraising goal after her work cut her hours and thus her ability to cover bills from her reduced paycheck; she's hoping for one final push to reach goal. You can read more, reblog, and find giving information here.

gwydion linked to a fundraiser for Squirrel, a good friend who has recently lost his job and needs to raise about $800 to cover bills and food; Squirrel has had a lot of interviews and believes he will have an offer but won't start work until December. You can give via paypal here.

rilee16 is raising funds to cover November rent and possible late fees after an aggressive roommate hiked their utility bills; Rilee is now sick and also needs to be able to pay to have medication delivered. You can read more, reblog, and find giving information here.

And this has been Radio Free Monday! Thank you for your time. You can post items for my attention at the Radio Free Monday submissions form. If you're new to fundraising, you may want to check out my guide to fundraising here.

#radio free monday #charity #philanthropy #fannish community

[dionysianchub]

Fatty liver anon here. Did they say why you have it specifically? Its very rarely caused by just being fat, it's usually health issues that can also make you gain weight. If it's alcohol related that's an obvious fix (harder in practice of course), if not there are a few different routes to go down

I'm 5'6 and 240lbs (gained 70lbs so far intentionally after gaining 35lbs from pcos, learning you can't just lose pcos weight with diet and exercise, and realising just being a feeder wasnt what I needed) and while they did say it can sometimes help to lose weight it's more about the pcos which caused insulin resistance and high cholesterol (for other people it can also be from diabetes, underactive thyroid, high blood pressure etc).

As I said I take inositol for the IR but I did also make a lot of lifestyle changes. I've had improvements whilst also lowering how many simple carbs I have and eating more complex carbs and fats instead (dairy isn't great for insulin resistance so I eat so many avocados, nuts and other plant oils as well as oily fish), taking those little cholesterol drinks containing plant sterols, and upping my fibre a lot with both oat bran and psyllium husk. I swim, go on walks, lift weights, and do some of Dr la thoma's YouTube functional bodyweight workout videos+stretches (being specific cause I do rate them for fat people, shes tiny but most are about functionality and ability over athleticism— We aren't in her mind but it's adaptable and useful) for general health/wellbeing and to hopefully keep the visceral fat % and liver fat lower as I gain. I also take milk thistle tablets because some studies show it's good for repairing and protecting the liver. I can't say what specifically has helped the most but I'm keeping it all up because it's working, you'll probably end up doing some experimenting. It sounds overwhelming written out like this but it really wasn't

They said I should try weight loss as well of course but I explained "it would be bad for my mental health so tell me what you'd tell a skinny person" and they dropped it. They tell me I'm obese every time I see them of course because I'm fatter every visit but accept it's not the sole or best treatment option. If you have an ED history they can be more understanding about avoiding WL. I'm personally willing to do anything except lose weight unless I get big enough that I can then lose the 5% recommended (visceral fat goes first, or so they say, and that's around what people can reliably keep off) and still feel good about my body.

One nurse tried to say something about me being on testosterone and only stopped when she realised the gel doesn't metabolise the same way, I'm sure you know what they can be like just don't be surprised if someone decides to blame T. Trans broken arm syndrome strikes again.

Sorry this is long and very ()()()(), I hope it's helpful enough to compensate.

This is wildly helpful! My doctor hasn't even called me since testing, this is just what I've seen from the results of the ultrasound and MRI, but I do know that at the time my liver values were evaluated they did discover I had an underactive thyroid. I've been placed on a synthetic thyroid hormone for the last month or so. Hopefully that helps? I also know that prior to my diagnosis I was eating a ton of sugary foods and carbs, so I've been trying to cut those and eat a more mindful diet. I'll look into the supplements and videos you mentioned as well! Thank you so so much for all your advice!! 💜💜💜

[handspunyarns]

You Were Marked: Day Four point Five.

pairing: din djarin x fem!O/C     

word count: 7.9K  

chapter summary:  If Din Djarin was going to be f----d to death by a crazy Dahl-woman, he wanted to be comfortable.    

warnings: 18+, MINORS DNI!, Mando'a and English cursing, unprotected PiV sexual situations, non-con sexual situations, violent situations, past hurt, past misogyny, past child abuse

You Were Marked: Masterlist 

<- You Were Marked: Previous Chapter 

Marathel kept up her high-speed march all the way from the chook pen to her hut.  She was so angry, and Frith, it felt so good to be angry.  Better to be angry than being so scared, so sad, so lonely all the time.  The fact that she probably had no right to be angry at the Bounty Hunter mattered not one whit to her.  How dare he!  How dare he have the temerity to laugh at her as she struggled to climb down a tree!  Tearing her only gown, no less.  The gown that she had spent the entire of the cold season making, preparing all the plant fiber, spinning enough yarn to wrap around the Hold wall thousands of times, finding the perfect flowers to make the beautiful yellow that made her think of sunshine and warm days and freedom, warping and wefting and weaving that yarn into the deepest hours of the night because she was so excited to make something that wasn’t the colors of dirt and grass.  Why in the name of Frith had she worn that gown today?  It wasn’t even remotely useful, and she knew she was going into the chook pen today ... not the cleanest of places, but then she didn’t expect to be put into a tree by a little spoiled brat!  

Marathel stomped up into her hut, setting her basket of mostly broken eggs on the counter.  Even worse, the whole morning had been a waste, food-wise.  With a grimace, she poured the egg mess from the basket into her largest bowl.  Out of all the eggs, only three managed to come through unscathed or uneaten by the gaping maw of the little green goblin.  The rest she whipped into a scrambled frenzy, imagining it was the Bounty Hunter's liver she was blending into froth.  She strained the whipped eggs through layers of cheesecloth to get out all the shells.    

And what am I going to do with all this? she thought.  All these eggs would make the largest omelet ever.  Good enough for the Bounty Hunter and that bottomless pit of a son of his!   All these eggs, I hope they both get terrible wind and just blow away to wherever they came from!    

The image in her head of the Bounty Hunter and the little green boy flying due to wind made her laugh as she held her face in her hands.  The laughter ebbed away into a single sob.  Oh Frith, she was so confused and frustrated.  She had worn the gown because she felt pretty today, and so, she wanted to look pretty.  But trying to impress the Bounty Hunter? Oh, no no no, why would she want to do that?  Her thoughts wandered back to the previous night, when she was under the spell of the Dahls.  She had been mostly aware of what was happening the entire time – of what she and the Bounty Hunter were doing – but it hadn’t been her.  Not fully.  Sort of.  Oh, it was so hard to explain, even to herself!    

The eggs taken care of, Marathel looked down at her dress and smock, stained with pitch.  She twisted around to see the tear in the back.  Hopefully it was repairable.  She quickly pulled both over her head and off, forgetting that she was standing in the middle of her hut wearing nothing but her shift and those two male-types could show up at any moment.  With an exasperated grunt, she went behind her curtains.  She just had to invite them to stay, didn’t she?  Ordinarily modesty didn’t concern her much; no one came to bother her over here anymore.  When she first came to live at the hut, she would either hide or chuck rocks to drive off the Cyiloggs the Hold sent out to bring her back.   After a while, they stopped coming … so she assumed that the Hold and The Bishop wanted nothing to do with her now.  Diwhyn Olba had come out to inform her that she would be left alone so long as she delivered Dahl eggs for the Elders each season.  But then the Bounty Hunter appeared with his tiny metal whatever-it-was that had The Bishop’s voice within, telling her that he had not forgotten her, that she had an obligation in the Hold that he still expected her to keep.  

Oh, Diwhyn Olba, I wish you were here right now.  

Marathel indulged in a moment of tearful self-pity, calling herself foolish a thousand times over.  She found some clean clothes and put those on.  Looking down at herself, she felt as plain as the quack grass color of her clothing.  Patched.  Utilitarian.  As frumpy as a Diwhyn.  With a sigh, she left her curtains and picked up her gown and smock from the floor.  The smock had a couple of snags and would be easily fixed.  The tear in the gown was L-shaped and went straight along the grain of the fabric.  This could also be fixed almost invisibly if she was careful.    Marathel dug through her basket that held the remainders of her spun yarn, finding the ball of the yellow.  She sat cross-legged on her table and prepared to weave the ragged edges of the fabric back together.  Why had she worn this today?  

Because you felt pretty.  The Bounty Hunter made you feel pretty … even desirable.  

Had he?   

She thought back to the night before, when he had kept her pinned and unable to escape against the post, pressing his body firmly against hers, into hers, which had felt so good, so fulfilling, with her legs wound tightly around him, feeling his muscles ripple under her thighs … just the memory made her heart beat faster and she felt a flush creeping up her neck. And he had been willing, yes, he had been.  And yes, Frith, that part had filled her with amazement, but it was after that had touched her heart: the care with which he covered her up, the gentleness of setting her feet back down to the floor, even just the simple act of asking if she were all right.  Those kinds of moments, she didn’t know those could exist.  Oh, what must he think of her?  That she asked him to stay with her that first day?  She hadn’t even been thinking about the Dahls rising to mate soon, she had only been thinking that she was so lonely, and how captivated she was by the little child and the strange, frightening man that had come looking for her.  

Looking for her.  

She had worth.  

Marathel pushed the why of her worth out of her head, at least for now, choosing to remember the sight of the Bounty Hunter running to the chook pen because she had called for him.  And then, him calling for her.  Using her name.  Calling her by her name for the first time.  The sound of his voice coming from his helmet, saying her name.  Marathel bent down to repair her gown with a better heart.  

Marathel was almost finished with her sewing when she noticed the Bounty Hunter and the child returning to the hut.  Frowning, she realized that they had been gone for quite some time.  She watched them approach, Grogu on his father’s hip.  She bent back down to her task and waited.  

Din could see her as they got closer.  It had taken a while to walk to their destination, but he had hoped that the time apart had calmed her temper a bit … not that her temper wasn’t justified.   He also hoped that what they brought back for her would please her.  Marathel sat on top of her table, the yellow gown in her lap, a needle flashing in her hand.  She was now wearing clothing the color of dead grass, which did her coloring no favors, he thought.  The yellow and charcoal combination had been so striking against her fair skin.    

He and Grogu had made it to her steps.  Marathel took a quick glance over and looked back to her dress.  Din set Grogu down on the floor, and then bent down to whisper in the boy’s ear, “Now, just like I told you, okay?  Go ahead.”  He gave Grogu a little push on his back.  Grogu toddled silently all the way over to the table, while Din removed his blasters and jet pack.  Louder, he said, “Um … Grogu has something to tell you.”  

Marathel looked up at Din, and then down to Grogu, noticing that he had clambered up on the bench, and was holding a few stems of yellow cup-shaped flowers, which he held out to her.  Marathel knew that Grogu had no way of knowing that not only were these her favorite flowers, but they were the very kind that she used to dye the yarn for her yellow gown.  Smiling, Marathel reached down and lifted Grogu up to the tabletop.  “And what does Grogu have to say?”  

Din walked over to her and stood rather like a boy who was in trouble, with one arm behind his back.  Rocking back on his heels, he said, “Grogu says that he is sorry that he ate the eggs.  He also says that he is sorry he put you in a tree.  He promises that he will obey you if you need to scold him, and … he also promises not to move people unless they’re in danger or if they’re a danger to someone else.”  Marathel watched Grogu’s face during this little declaration, and she didn’t think that the boy could make his eyes any larger or any more winsome as he held out the flowers to her.  

Marathel took the flowers.  “Grogu, I accept your apology.  Thank you.  And I am sorry that I was so cross.  Thank you for the beautiful flowers.”  She leaned forward to give him a soft, lingering kiss on his forehead, and then gave him a cuddle.  Happy again, Grogu climbed into her lap into the pile of yellow fabric.    

Din moved around the table, seeking out a tall clay cup from the kitchen counter, filling it with water.  He took the flowers from her and placed them in the cup.  “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry too.”  Marathel looked up at him.  “I’m sorry for laughing, and … I’m sorry your dress was torn.  I hope it can be repaired.”  

Marathel smiled and dropped her gaze back to her dress.  “I suppose I was quite a sight, treed like a crazed dycwingen.”  

“Yeah, you were.”  Din gently picked Grogu up off the yellow dress, walking back to the steps.  Marathel turned to the counter to look at the flowers, and then noticed three perfectly ripe gorugellys standing there.    

A gift.  He brought me a gift.  She looked out to where the Bounty Hunter was sitting, playing with Grogu.  He didn’t turn his head, but Din could see her smile from across the room.  A smile as bright as the yellow dress.  

Marathel finished repairing her dress to her satisfaction.  She held it up and figured it wouldn’t be too noticeable unless someone was looking for a flaw in her fabric.  Or were staring intently at her backside, something she could do little about.  With a sigh, she got off the table, stowed her sewing gear, and put her dress and smock on to soak.  The tree pitch would come out with a little work.  As she considered what to make for dinner, she felt her hands and her shoulders tense.  The Dahls were getting active again.  She closed her eyes and did what she could only call reaching, sending out feelers from herself to the Dahls, trying to work out how many Dahls would be rising tonight, which ones, if they were her bonded Dahls.  Marathel was dismayed to learn that there would be a great many rising tonight.   Whatever should I do? she thought, dropping her face into her hands.  At that moment, all she could do was take a deep breath in, which she released in a gasp when she heard the Bounty Hunter’s voice just behind her.    

“Are you all right?”  

Putting a hand on her chest, she said, “Not when you sneak up on me, no.”  

“I have been standing there for quite a long time.”  

“Oh,” she murmured, moving down the counter, keeping her back to the Bounty Hunter.  She went to the same post as last night, leaning against it, wrapping her arms around it, her back to Din.  Just like last night.    

Din decided to keep his distance from her this time.  “Is it the Dahls again?”  

There was a long pause as Marathel pulled her hair over her shoulder, combing it with her fingers.  “Yes.”  

“Are they … rising to mate again tonight?”  

“Yes.”  She continued to stroke her hair.  “You should just take Grogu and leave.”  

Din suddenly found himself disappointed she would say such a thing … even though he had had the same thought himself.  “You said yesterday … that you had always been alone before, when the Dahls would rise.”  He paused, wondering the best way to put his question, whether he should ask it at all.  “What happens when you’re alone?”  

“I can only tell you what has happened to me before.”  She took a deep breath before continuing.  “When I first came to the hut, I could sleep through their mating.  It would be difficult for me to sleep, though.  I suppose that was before I realized what they were doing.   Diwhyn Olba had to explain it to me.”  Din watched a light pink flush grow from her neckline up to her hairline.  “She even explained … ways … I could … take care of myself.”  In a whisper, she continued, “I never found that to be helpful, though.”  Marathel paused, looking out over the rocky field.  “I have woken up, far from this hut, with no knowledge how I got there, sometimes a full day’s walk.  I have tied myself to this very post to keep me from wandering.  I simply chewed through the ropes to escape.  I have tried to use objects …” She drew her breath in sharply and it was a moment before she could continue.  “I have injured myself, sometimes badly.  Once, I came back to myself because I had thrown myself off a cliff – this was out past the tidal flats -- into the ocean below.  That was possibly the worst.  That was a time when I had over twenty bonded Dahls, and it seemed as if all the Dahls on this side of the Hold rose at the same time.”  

Din stood silently.  He had considered tying her up.  He had considered taking her to the Razor Crest and locking her in his sleeping cubicle.  He had even considered just leaving the planet altogether, leaving the bounty behind … but taking her with him.  “You said that you could hear the Dahls.  I assumed that meant just yours.  But you’re able to hear more of the Dahls than just the ones you’re bonded with?”  

“I can hear all the Dahls.”Marathel took another deep breath.  “It’s usually not a bad thing, to hear them all like that.  It’s just noisy, in my head.  Confusing, sometimes.  I know when they’re hungry, if they’ve found food, if they’ve laid a clutch of eggs. I get stronger feelings from my own bonded Dahls when those things happen.”  She chuckled.  “I feel their joy when the eggs are laid, when the kits hatch.  Those times fill my heart with happiness.  When the Dahls are mating, they are in such a frenzy that … they are so loud then.  It’s amplified, it’s all I can hear and feel.    And when one dies, especially one I’m bonded with … The pain is immeasurable.  As if a very part of me has died as well.  I’ve stopped bonding with so many because of that.  I can’t bear their deaths.  Rodanthe is the oldest of my Dahls.  She’s the last of my original Dahls from the Hold.  When she dies … I don’t know what I’ll do.”  

Din could hear the tears in her throat.  In that moment, he wanted nothing more than for Marathel to turn around so he could see her face.  What a burden these Dahls were to her.  “If this is the case, then why would the Elders want Dahl eggs?”  

Marathel stroked her hair at a faster pace.  “They want the power of control over another living thing.  That’s all they ever want.  And … now that I fully understand what kind of power the Dahls have over me, what I will do because of them … I can see them desiring that power as well.”  She took another deep breath, and said in a rush, “Please, please, understand, that I had no knowledge of what would happen, of what I would do …”  

Din looked down to the floor.  “No, don’t say that.  It’s … it’s all right.”  

“I don’t want you to think that I lured you here, to stay with me.”  

“I don’t think that.”  

“Then,” Marathel said, wiping the tears from under her eyes, “you should take Grogu and stay on your flying ship.  Stay away from me.  Leave me here.  When the eggs are ready in a couple of days, I will bring them to you, and you can take me to receive your reward.”  She sighed, leaning her temple against the post.  “That’s the best thing for you to do.”  

Yes, that would be the sensible thing, Din thought.  But the idea that she could do herself a grievous harm, perhaps even accidentally kill herself while under the control of the Dahls, upset him greatly, and not because of the potential loss of the largest bounty he would probably ever receive.  “Will it be bad tonight?”  

She swallowed.  “Yes, I think so.”  

“Are there a lot of Dahls rising?”  

“Hundreds,” she whispered.  

“Then I will stay here with you.”  

Marathel's head snapped up straight, but she continued to keep her back to the Bounty Hunter.  “Why in the name of Frith would you do such a thing?”  

Din stepped closer to her, standing just behind her shoulder, mere inches separating her back from his front.  “I will tell you … if you tell me who this Frith is that you call on so often.”  

Marathel stammered, “Wh . . . Frith is the name of the Luad Dycwingen.  He can see us all the time, being up in the moon like that.  We were told as children that if we misbehaved, Frith would tell the Diwhyns on us.  We also blamed Frith for things that happened in the Hold, like carrots growing where the onions should be.  Or if a boy’s shoes went missing.”  

“Or … loaves of bread going missing from the kitchen?”  Din asked, trying to bring a touch of levity to this conversation.  

“Yes, just so.  Missing loaves of bread.  Frith must be in my kitchen.”  Marathel dropped her head.  “Now, back to my question, Bounty Hunter.  Why would you stay here with me, knowing what will happen tonight?  Knowing what I will do?”  

Din reached over her shoulder, taking her hair away from her nervous hands.  He gently stroked it with his gloved fingers, fanning it out over her shoulders like a cloak of molten silver.  His gloved hands remained lightly touching her shoulders.  “Because I want to.”

Marathel stood stock still for a very long time.  Din felt her shoulders rise and fall with each breath.  Both remained lost in their mutual embarrassment, their mutual dread, their mutual anticipation.  Frith and the Maker alone knew how long they would have stayed in this moment, which was finally broken by Grogu, who wrapped his little arms around Marathel’s ankle again.  “Patu?”  

Marathel lifted her foot, letting a giggling Grogu hang from it.  “No, me not Patu, you silly gochgoch.  Me Marathel.  You Grogu.  You probably very hungry Grogu.”  She lifted her leg higher, bouncing Grogu up and down, making him squeal.  Marathel tilted her head towards the Bounty Hunter.  “Now, if your Patu would peel you off my leg, I can make you something to eat.  Probably eggs.  I have an exceptional amount of eggs.”  

Grogu did not want to let go of Marathel, of course, since he was having too much fun bouncing up and down, so it took Din taking hold of her leg and physically unwrapping Grogu’s arms to try to make him let go.  Marathel started laughing so hard that she fell to the floor, Din dragging her a couple of feet as he tried to get Grogu to release her ankle.  Din threw up his hands in disgust.  “Haar’chak, kid, let go of her."  Grogu blew a raspberry as he swung back and forth.  

Marathel’s laughter subsided to giggles.  “Grogu.  Grogu.”  Her voice changed to that of a stern parent, and Grogu looked down at her.  “Let go now, child.  I have things to do.  Go play with your Patu.”  Grogu immediately dropped to the floor.  Marathel sat up and kissed his ear.  “Thank you, love.  Go on now.”  Grogu immediately complied, toddling back to the front of the hut.  

Din watched him go, and then held out a hand to help Marathel up.  “I need to learn that tone of voice.”  

Marathel took his hand and let herself be pulled up to a standing position.  She shrugged.  “It only works if there are no trees to put you into.”

For dinner, she swirled the blended eggs into a boiling broth, filling out the soup with finely chopped vegetables and sliced fish cake, and then floating fluffy dumplings on top.  Grogu, of course, ate more than Marathel ever thought a little body like his could hold.  “Where does he put it?” she asked Din, who simply shrugged and led the boy out into the yard.  He sat down with Grogu and produced the little round gear knob from the Razor Crest.  He spent the next couple of hours encouraging Grogu to use the Force to move the ball, to toss it into the air, to raise it and the surrounding rocks higher and higher around him.  

Marathel sat on the steps, watching.  As the shadows deepened in the yard, Din could tell that she was getting more and more agitated.  If he had passed her on the street on any other planet, he would have assumed that she was a spice addict in withdrawal: her hands shook, her head bobbed up and down, her toes curled and uncurled over the edge of the step.  Grogu bleated for Din’s attention.  He looked over and just managed to catch the gear knob before it smacked him in the helmet.  Grogu looked quite grumpy.  “I know, kid, but I am purposely trying to wear you out.” Din tossed the gear knob straight up for Grogu to catch in the air, making it hover about a meter above his head.  “I need you to sleep like a rock tonight.  It’s … it’s going to get weird around here.”  He turned to look at Marathel again.  She was gone from the steps.  He looked past the hut, and finally saw her walking through the stream.  He watched her until he felt the clonk of Grogu throwing the gear knob against his helmet.  “Sorry, buddy.  I’m paying attention now.  Show me again?”  Grogu harrumphed, but obediently raised the gear knob again, along with several stones and a large roly-poly bug, making them all swirl around each other in a complicated pattern.  Din leaned back on his hands and watched. “Good job, kid.”  

“I think I could watch that all day.”  Din turned to see Marathel standing in the stream that coursed along the edge of the yard.  Her hands were clamped hard on her arms, her knuckles white.  “It’s mesmerizing.”  

Grogu gave a little whimper and set everything down on the ground.  Din took the gear knob and put it back in his pocket.  “He’s not strong enough to do this for too long. It makes him very tired.  But he’s getting much better at controlling his Force powers.”  Grogu sighed, looking exhausted.  Marathel came over and picked him up, cuddling him in her arms.  Even though she was shaking, her lip trembling, she remained focused on the boy as she began to softly rock him, humming a quiet tune.  Grogu closed his eyes and snuggled against her.  Marathel continued humming and swayed as she hummed, turning in slow circles, stroking Grogu’s ear.  Din watched as the waning sunlight reflected on her hair.  Her features were so soft, her eyes closed, her lips tilted in a small smile as she continued to hum.  If he had thought she would make a good wife before, he knew now that she would be a superb mother.  She was so good to his kid.  She was probably good to all the children of the Hold too, before she left, even though she was a child at the time herself.  She would raise good children.    

She could raise warriors.  

He stood up and moved to take Grogu from her.  She flinched away.  “He’s all right, Bounty Hunter, I’d never hurt him.”  

He held up his hand.  “I know that.”  

Her eyes filled with tears, and her hands trembled.  “I’d tear my heart out for him.”  

“I know, Marathel.”  

The tears spilled over.  “Then please … let me hold him a little longer.”  In response, he put his arm around her and held her close.  He put his other hand over hers, the hand that was supporting Grogu’s head, intertwining their fingers together.  They stood that way, Din stroking her hair, their hands linked together on Grogu, until it became full dark.   Together, they stepped up into her hut and laid the sleeping boy in his pram.  Marathel gave him goodnight kisses and Din whispered quietly in the boy’s ear before closing the lid securely.  They stepped back and away from each other.  

Din shifted his weight to one hip in that way he had.  “So … now what?”  

“Oh, your guess is as good as mine.”  Marathel, already breathing hard, put her face in her shaking hands.  “There’s never been so many rising at the same time.  My heart is already racing.  And it’s so hot.  Aren’t you hot?  I’m so hot.”  She turned away and went behind her curtains.  Din turned his back, but he could hear her clothes sliding against her skin as she stripped them off.  He took a deep breath himself, listening to her moving about behind the curtains.  Haar’chak, he was already aroused with just the thought of her.  Oh, he had a bad feeling about this.  He felt as nervous as a first-timer at a brothel.  No, scratch that, he was as nervous as a first-timer sex worker at a brothel; that was a more appropriate feeling for his situation.  He heard her step down from the platform, then a splash.  He could just see Marathel in the darkness, wearing her thin nightgown, walking quickly away from the hut through the stream as she held her hair on top of her head.  She disappeared into the tall grass.  Din stood still.  She would come back, right?  Yes, of course she would.  He was here.  She would come back for him.  He was her prey tonight.  

How does one prepare to be prey? he wondered.  What the shab should he do while waiting for her to come back? Anxious to be doing something, he found the lantern and shook it.  The lantern gave off its pale glow.  He carefully moved Grogu’s pram until it was tucked against her loom, fully out of the way.  Out of the way of what, he was unsure, but out of the way was good.  He looked out over the landscape with his thermal vision.  She was out there in the tall grass.  He watched her pace back and forth, continually turning back to look down into the valley where the Dahls were.  The Dahls were very loud now with their yip-yehs and occasional keening wails, piercing enough to make him wince. If the noise was almost unbearable to him, how must it be for her?   Then he saw her turn in his direction.  The Dahls quieted.  He watched her breathe, chest heaving.  Her heat signature was much higher than a humans should be.  She took several steps towards him.  He instinctively took one step back despite the fact she was a couple hundred meters away.  There was a sudden shrieking howl of several Dahls at once, and Marathel clapped her hands over her ears, emitting a howl herself, and dashed away down into the rocky valley, out of view. 

Din didn’t realize he had been holding his breath until he let it out in a rush.  He was relieved for a respite.  Being this far out of control was anathema to him.  He had been relaxing the limits of his comfort zone ever since he met his ad’ika, but this half-crazed woman possessed by freaky dog-lizard-cat things was really pushing it.  He tried to take some deep breaths, but it seemed to do no good.  He became aware that he felt warm, almost feverish, when just a few moments ago he was quite comfortable, temperature-wise.  Now he felt as if he was in the Dune Sea in high summer at midday. 

Osik, why was it so hot?  

He pulled off his heavy cape and undid the cowl at his throat. The night air was cool and refreshing, but now his armor was so damn heavy.  He stripped his gloves off his sweating hands and dropped his cuirass and cuisses to the floor.  Still too damn hot.    He jerked open his jacket, pulled out his arms, and stripped his thermal shirt off, relishing the cool air on his bare chest, on the throbbing bite mark.  He pulled his jacket back on, only halfway fastening it back together, and swept his discarded cape and armor out of the way, still not sure what out of the way meant, and put his hands on the edge of his helmet.  Here, he stopped, closed his eyes, and struggled for self-control.  No. The helmet stays on, the helmet stays on.  He took a deep breath and dropped his hands to his sides.   Feeling better, he sat on the steps to wait for Marathel to return, as the yip-yehs began again. 

She finally reappeared on his thermal vision, walking back into the tall grass.  He watched her stop and raise her head, appearing to look directly at him.  She began walking again, this time back towards the hut, walking with great purpose, much like her angry marching earlier today. Was that really just today? he thought idly, not quite noticing that she was moving faster and faster until he realized she was running at a full tilt straight for him. 

He had just enough time to half-stand, thinking oh kriff oh kriff oh kriff as she reached the hut and leapt at him, planting her knee in his chest and laying him flat out on his back.  His breath was knocked out of him, but he was still able to make an automatic defensive move as he used her own momentum to flip her over, and she rolled hard against one of the benches, ripping her nightgown from hem to waist. She grunted in surprise and pain, and got up into a crouch, snarling at him. Din turned to her and got to one knee as she leapt at him again.  He jumped up and grabbed her by the wrists before she could get to him.  She cried out in dismay, stretching up on to her toes, trying to break free.  Din swept his leg under her feet, knocking her to the floor.  He held her down, his knee in her gut, holding her wrists as she struggled. His knee slid on her nightgown, and she managed to slide out from under his knee, trying to twist herself free of his grasp, getting one foot under herself before he swept his leg again, knocking her back down to the floor.  This time he pinned her down under his full weight, grabbing her nightgown and ripping it free from her shoulders before pinioning her wrists to the floor with his large hands.  She shrieked with fury.  She raised her head, baring her teeth, seething, snarling, spitting at him as she struggled beneath him.  Her eyes were completely dark, her face was flushed red, her breasts were heaving, she had bitten her lip at some point in the struggle and there was blood in her mouth.   

Osik, she was so beautiful.   

He had to take her right there or die trying, he thought, and he let go of one wrist to open his breeches.  She immediately sprang into action, using the leverage of her free arm to get a leg loose from under him, trying to flip him over off her.  But he had about fifteen kilos on her, and her advantage was short-lived as he simply rolled her right back over and slammed her flat on the floor, holding her wrists tightly over her head again.  Crazy bitch! He shouted in his head, or he might have said it out loud, he was beyond rational thought beyond wanting to fuck this pretty piece of flesh, fuck her right into the floor, to fuck her right until she split in two.  But she kept fighting, wailing, tears streaming down her temples.   

Haar’chak, this was what she wanted! 

Wasn’t it? 

She took a deep breath and with all the force she could muster, she got one leg out from under him, twisted it around his leg, and with a strength he didn’t know she had, flipped him over, planting her knees on his hips, slamming his hands to the floor, screaming into his face like a wild animal.  He pedaled with his feet, trying to slip out from under her, actually getting about halfway free before she forced him down again, this time setting her weight down heavily on his crotch, breathing hard, snarling. 

Now he understood.  She needed to dominate him. She needed to take him.  She needed him to be terrified of her. 

Well, I’m scared shitless, so one out of three so far, he thought, panting.  He looked to his left and saw that they were actually fairly close to his bed tick.  If he was going to be fucked to death by a crazy Dahl-woman, he wanted to be comfortable.  His brain was so fevered at that moment that he actually started laughing.  She shifted her weight backwards, confusion crossing her face, allowing him enough freedom to backpedal more with his feet, dragging her with him into his curtained cubicle.  She fell off her knees and ended up stretched out fully against his body, gripping his hands, both breathing hard in point/counterpoint. He let go of her hands, laid back, and stretched out, to let her do what she would.  Surprised, she scooted back until she was sitting on his legs.  She snarled again, her hands gripping his thighs, squeezing, daring him to defy her.  He gave her no struggle.  She knee-walked up his body, sitting on his chest, pushing his shoulders down to the sleeping tick.  Again, he did not struggle.  She made her way back down his body, scrabbling at his jacket and laying it open, dragging what was left of her fingernails down his ribs and belly to his waistband.  Here she tried to pull at his breeches, but they were secured by his belt buckle; he had to quickly get that loose for her but immediately laid back down in his supplicating pose.  He felt her forcefully drag his breeches and under thermals down, which hooked briefly on his erection on their way down to his knees.  He closed his eyes, because he was scared of her, oh yes, he was terrified, the only words he could manage in his fevered mind were please don’t bite me over and over.

He felt her warm breath on his thighs, on his crotch, and he began to whisper please don’t bite me when he felt her soft cheek stroke his erect penis from base to tip.  His eyes opened and he gasped; it was the most exotic feeling he’d ever had, and he felt her face move to the other side, and he felt her eyelashes against the side of his shaft as she stroked her face against him, the feathery touch driving him mad.  She nuzzled her nose into his pubic hair and then she stretched out her neck to stroke him again, up one side and down the other as she breathed deep, her exhalation soft and warm on his skin.  Oh, he sighed, she was getting his scent, marking him with her scent, taking possession of him.  She dragged her breasts up his thighs, her nipples tracking on his skin, bringing out goosebumps on his legs, softly rubbing her body up his cock, squeezing her upper arms together to capture him between her breasts, and she moved up and down there several times, his precum seeping from his tip as he marked her with his fluid down her breastbone. As she moved her breasts down his cock one last time, she dropped her chin and took the whole of him into her mouth, causing him to groan.  But she did not close her lips, she did not use her tongue on him, all she did was breathe, just like the Dahl did with his hand, breathing in his intimate scent, tasting it with her inhalation, exhaling against him like a hot summer wind.  She removed her mouth just before he knew he wouldn’t be able to keep from moving, lightly grazing her teeth on him, and he whimpered.  She moved back up his body, smelling him, softly rubbing her face against him as she moved, brushing against his erection with every motion she made, and he could not help it any longer, he arched his back to thrust at her, at any part of her he could reach, he was so desperate to be taken by her.  But she would continue to deny him as she leaned forward on her knees, nuzzled his chest, working her way up to what she could of his neck, not trying to remove his helmet but holding her face just under the lip of it, breathing softly into his helmet, taking his exhales into her mouth, her erect nipples dragging on his chest, her hands sliding down his arms to hold them down when all he wanted to do was take hold of her, and he murmured, “Please Marathel, please Marathel, please,” as she completely dominated him, laying mostly naked and exposed on his back on a planet beyond the edge of nowhere, pleading, promising to kill for her, promising to die for her, promising to set the universe on fire for her if she would just please, please take him now. 

 

She settled back on her heels, tilted her hips, and took him fully within her in one smooth stroke as she quietly inhaled and softly exhaled.  

He, suddenly enveloped in her sweet hot wetness, died for a full second, and then was revived as she moved her hips in rhythm, slowly, so slowly, too slowly, thinking that he would die for real this time as a sob escaped him and tears slid down his temples.  He bucked at her, desperate for more than what she was willing to give, when she dropped her dark eyes to his helmet and snarled, and she slapped the palm of her hand sharply on his bite wound and pressed hard.  He cried out with the pain, and this must have excited her, for she moved a little faster on him, and he grabbed at her hand on his bite wound, which she slapped away with a hiss.  She rocked faster, throwing her head back far enough that he felt her hair brushing against his legs, and her hair wasn’t soft at all, but was coarse like the mane of a running beast, like sheaths of dried summer grass, and her hands clutched at his ribs and her thighs squeezed him tightly as she began to climax.  He lifted his hands and slid them up her legs to her hips as she bucked against him, his thumbs pressing into her soft round belly, his fingers clasping at her hipbones hard enough to leave marks on her supple flesh. He arched his back, flexing his hips upward, balancing on his heels, trying to get as deep into her as he possibly could, losing all conscious thought as he whimpered “Mara … Marathel … my mesh’la …" as she cried out with her own orgasm, collapsing down towards his chest, thighs trembling, her hair falling over his visor, her hips still pulsing against his as he drew his knees up, thrusting his pelvis against hers, clutching her tightly to his chest as he finally came, grunting, tangling his fingers into her hair, sobbing her name, “Marathel … Marathel … my mesh’la Marathel …"  And then he laughed as she gasped against his shoulder.  She pushed up just enough to look into the visor of his helmet, and she was Marathel again, with her silver hair all in disarray, tears leaking from her silver eyes, lip trembling as she reached up and placed her hand on the helmet where his cheek would be. He laid his hand over hers as they breathed in time together.  Then her eyes fluttered closed as she collapsed on his chest.  He felt every muscle in her body release their tension as she melted off him to the bed tick, rolled to her back beside him, and threw her arms up above her head, unconscious.  

Oh, Marathel, he thought.  You are the Queen of the Universe.  

He gazed at Marathel's still face for a long time. He got up to one elbow and watched her slow breathing, a lock of hair lifting and falling on her collarbone with each breath.  His eyes skated down her naked body, her round breasts, just nicely proportioned to fit in his hand if he so dared, her middle softly curved with a slightly rounded belly, a little extra flesh at her hips, her long legs, one stretched out straight, the other bent at the knee with her toes touching her calf, legs that were heavy but were so much more muscular than they looked, legs that could break a tree in half, strong rounded calves with finely turned ankles.  He sat up on his hip and reached with his bare hand, thinking, forgive me, Marathel, but I must have this memory of your skin as he lightly skated his hand over her flesh starting at her ankle, moving up her leg.  She stirred slightly at his touch but did not wake.  He stroked her gently, passing over the already-forming bruises that he had given her in their struggle tonight, flinching that he had injured her so, but continued his hand up her bent leg onto her inner thigh when he felt a patch of puckered skin near the apex of her legs.  His hand stopped.  Her skin until now had been as smooth as liquid beskar, but this texture was different, like scar tissue.  Curious, he bent down to look closely at the place on her inner thigh that he had found, thinking maybe a very old injury, perhaps a birthmark.  He turned on the light on his helmet, blocking it as much as he could so as not to wake her.  Focusing the beam on her leg – and the lovely silver thatch of hair next to it – he could see that the puckered area of skin was not a birthmark at all, but the remnants of a brand.  The brand was latticed, stretched, signifying to him that she must have received this mark as … a very, very, young child.  He turned off his beam immediately, but the mark was already burned into his retinas. It was square – or had been at one time – with an arrow-head shape in the middle, but it was so hard to read, as old as the mark must have been.    

Someone had held her down, opened her legs – a little girl’s legs – and held a brand to her delicate child’s skin, burning it to leave this mark.  

He'd heard screams of children before, many times.  Too many times to count.  He felt physically ill as he thought of her screaming as a tiny child, probably even younger than he when his parents had been killed before his eyes.  A little girl, tortured by the very adults who were supposed to have protected her.  Was Diwhyn Olba there?  Did Diwhyn Olba have to hold her down?  Did Diwhyn Olba tend to her wounds while little Marathel screamed in pain?  

Din rolled away from Marathel and stood up, closing his jacket, pulling his pants back up, ashamed to have exposed himself to her, who suffered as a little girl at the hands of men.  She must have sensed his movement; she rolled to her side, curling up with her hands in front of her face, curling up like a child.  He grabbed one of the blankets she had given him and unfolded it, gently tucking it around her, covering her, wishing in some way to protect the child Marathel from the unnamed unknown evils that must have taken place in that Hold.  Marathel sighed in her sleep, took hold of the blanket and pulled it over her ear as she snuggled down deep in the sleeping tick.  Din carefully lifted a wayward lock of her hair from her face and put it behind her shoulder.  He stood and then passed through the curtains to the center of her hut.  He sighed.  The room showed no signs of their earlier struggle, other than the pile of his cape and removed armor, and the bench at the table slightly askew from when she crashed into it.  Din picked up his discarded clothing and armor, quietly saying the proper old incantation for each piece as he replaced them on his body, ending with the words this is the way as he straightened his helmet.  Feeling stronger in his soul with the remembrance of his Creed, he sat down against the post closest to where Marathel slept, vowing to protect her until the hunt was finished.  Crossing his feet at his ankles, he stared at the stars above him until he dozed off.   

 

You Were Marked: Next Chapter

#din djarin smut #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin #the mandalorian angst #the mandalorian x reader #Mandalorian fanfic #Mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian #the mandalorian smut #the mandalorian fanfiction #star wars smut #mandalorian smut #star wars fanfiction

[lhoellh]

Stranger from hell analysis

I have rewatched both Strangers from hell and Hannibal NBC and the similarity in characterization is uncanny. But first, I just want to explain that although it seems the title "Strangers from hell" is the widely accepted title in English, "Hell is other people" is so much more poetical don't you think?

Throughout the series, it has been thoroughly discussed that the people that surround us are the ones that make our lives for better or worse and that is what we see with Yoon Jongwoo. From his poor mother, his brother, the residence, and his job. But what really stuck with me is that it is not the place that is making Yoon Jongwoo's life miserable. It's the people around him. He does not consider her mother and his brother and maybe his girlfriend the burden or his final straw to insanity, but the people in his residence and his work. This may seem like a given, but I just like this when thinking about this series.

--- The next will contain spoilers. Be warned---

Now the similarities between Hannibal NBC and Strangers from Hell, is, of course, the 2 main characters.

From the psychoanalytic theory where childhood is very important, both our sugar killer's childhood is not really put importance and we are only given small amounts of information regarding this regard. This information is enough. In psychology, mothers are very important figures in our life as a baby once. This mother figure is what makes us who we are today (well as I have said, mostly on what the psychoanalytic theory suggests). But from the Hannibal nbc and strangers from hell series, both Hannibal Lecter and Seo Moonjo are orphaned and have no clear distinct features of a mother figure to learn the ways of society or as Alfred Adler's theory teaches them social interest. However, since they live as the adults that we see they are, we know that someone took care of them.

My question is, in the psychoanalytic view, does their lack of parental love, neglect, and obvious lack of social interest, the reason why these individuals are who they are as adults? In a humanistic-existential theory most specifically Erich Fromm's theory, both show necrophilia, or the love of death, and malignant narcissism, or the extreme obsession with oneself, and this characterization, if spoken to, will make Hannibal and Seo Moonjo itch. Additionally, they are perfectionist and thinks that everyone is beneath them. Overall, these two individuals are toxic and beyond repair.

2. Hannibal and Moonjo are seen as smart and educated. We know that they are in the medical field, and we understand that they both are good at doing it. Their jobs help them with their murder hobbies, and their medical knowledge helps them with their signature killing style.

3. Gift-giving! In terms of love languages, it is seen that both Hannibal and Moonjo-despite being obsessive lovers- share their own form of love in acts of service. With Hannibal with his livers and sausages (if you know what I mean), it is understandable that he feeds it to people in his small social circle-but I see that as satirical where their high social standing makes them ignorant even to the littlest things like the food that they are eating. But with Will... Hannibal feeds Will with the intention of acceptance and affirmation that what Hannibal eats tastes good, and thus, Will should have them too. It is twisted, but who are we to judge his form of love?

We can also see this with Moonjo's bracelet full of teeth. Like Hannibal who has a fascination with human meat, Moonjo has a fascination with teeth. And like Hannibal, Moonjo shares them with Yoon Jongwoo because if he wears the bracelet, then maybe, maybe Jongwoo accepts Moonjo's love. Oh, I almost forgot the human meat that he feeds to everyone. But what makes it special is Moonjo's action while he feeds them to Jongwoo (I am being delusional but aren't we all?) where it looks like he feeds them to jongwoo so that jongwoo can understand moonjo better.

4. Throughout the end of the series, we can notice a similarity in the story resolution and how it shapes our two main characters.

a.) First with Yoon Jongwoo. At first, he has this life that in a sense, I still consider normal since it does not affect his daily life. He has his own problem with his poor mother, and his brother which seems to be an equally financial liability that makes him go to the city to finally be alone and work. It is not perfect, but it is his life that he just lives through as part of his lifetime. Toward the climax, with all the evils he has been through, the psychological abuse that not a normal person can handle is the last straw for his patience. I personally believe that a normal individual is judged by his patience in society, and if this patience does not exist, is what makes things problematic. Because of this, as we follow through to the end, he snaps and kills everyone including the very man that is obsessed with him- Seo Moonjo.

What I like about this end is that with all of the things he has gone through, we don't necessarily know how he would live his life after. We know that the current end tells us that what he did to Moonjo will be considered as self-defense and he gets to live in society to act like a normal human being. But can he? And, what then? We do not know.

b.) Now with Will Graham. An individual who has many mental illnesses that makes him think so differently than an average person, which in a sense, might makes his life a little bit harder than most considering that he does not follow the norms of the society, but like Yoon Jongwoo, he lives with it. Following through the 2nd season regarding his arrests, we noticed a turn of personality, specifically, hostility towards Hannibal. Will's unlawful arrest draws his last patience and at last! His becoming. I am curious to hear more of Hannibal's thoughts about this considering that this is part of his design, and yes, he cannot control what happens next, but what does Hannibal really think of this? Does he love it? Was he surprised? Aroused? Anyways, this new Will that we will eventually see in season 3 was very romantic unlike Strangers from Hell, and honestly, I am here for it!

If I have watched this when I was younger, I think I would have hated the ending. But since I watched it at the prime age of 18 (still too young I guess?), I LOVE LOVE LOVE it so much. The love that should not exist in the first place, a love that is so forbidden that you just have to choose which one, and the becoming of what you two truly want is my peak romance. Nobody writes romance like this anymore I guess...

Anyways! I just got really excited with this since I think I have found my favorite genre of literature and it's just murder bl haha.

#strangers from hell #yoon jongwoo #seo moonjo #hannibal #hannibal lecter #will graham #psychology #psychoanalytic #psychoanalysis

[trashytoastboi]

Hello! May I please request a headcanon post about the Strawhats as travelling merchants?

Heyya! Sure thing 🍞 this was quite an interesting one to write! I won't deny that 90% of my merchant knowledge comes from Spice & Wolf 🤣🍀 hope you enjoy~

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Headcanons: The Straw-Hat's being travelling merchants

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Straw-Hat Crew

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Robin📚 The researcher. Market research, audience studies, target market, trends, demand and supply. Robin takes care of all of it. She is precise and proficient that she can usually guess a good investment and stock up on things before a massive price boom. She knows the location they are going to visit beforehand, she research the markets, what they have and what they need. Handles all official paperwork such as travel permits and declaration forms of their products and wares.

Nami🍊 Money and maps. The books, the profits, the expenditure. Not a single beri escapes her gaze. She often works on the books and focuses on how to maximize those profits so that the zeros only grow positively in the bank. She's in it to win it and will work alongside Robin whenever she sniffs out a good chance to make some coin. Nami also plans out the most efficient routes to their next destination.

Brook 🎻 Handles the advertising, he uses his skills with music to attract people almost like a pied piper. The music creates a soothing and pleasant atmosphere for the people who come around to shop and peruse the Straw Hats various wares. He leaves his hat out as a welcome for tips, Nami's idea of course.

Franky 🤖 Franky mostly handles repairs for the various wagons and carts the group need when travelling. He is usually there to handle appraisals as well, having a very good eye to see through bad materials. He creates mechanical knickknacks for sale and offers repair services for all sorts of things.

Usopp 🏹 The salesman could probably sell your own liver back to you. He has a silver tongue and a great well of flattery up his sleeve. Ussop is the best man for the job as he chats up every product perfectly, so much so that nearly everything he proclaims the greatness of will sell out. For every product he has a tall tale to go with it. Customers want value and sensationalism which Ussop knows very well.

Luffy 🍖 An unusual and strange charm that tends to draw customers and trouble. Luffy is the head of their little band of merchants and dictates where they go. A bit inconvenient as Luffy is very erratic and his paths are never linear, usually leading them to the most random location. Usually results getting into arguments with other merchants. A territorial dispute you could say. Though Luffy usually convinces those merchants to just work alongside them.

Sanji 🍽 Sanji is in charge of cooking meals for the Straw Hats as well as trading spices, making food to draw more customers by offering snacks and samples. He calls the shots on rare ingredients and whether it's better to trade them or cook them. A lot of returning customers are there for Sanji's food and his ever so convenient mixed spice packs.

Zoro ⚔ Zoro is not well versed in the matters of trade, nor bookkeeping and even making something to sell. So what he does handle is the security. Brawn is his literal strong suit and he works hard to protect the merchants, their wares and any apparatus. There usually aren't any problems, because Zoro takes care of them quickly. If its too overwhelming a few others would step in but thus far a situation where it's been too much has not arisen.

Jinbei 🥋 Jinbei is in charge of driving the wagon and heading the wagon train. He coordinates the setting up of their little market area. Works closely with Nami when planning routes as Jinbei takes all the obstacles into account when travelling. Also being one of the more amicable and well versed members, he handles negotiations for locations and permissions to set up a campsite doubled traveling shop.

Chopper 🍭 Medicine and Animals. Chopper makes various salves, medicines, and ointments for a wide variety of things. In fact Miracle Medicine is not too far off to describe the health tonics he creates. They are one of the best sellers that the Straw Hat merchant group has to offer. Chopper also takes it upon himself to look after the animals that help with pulling the wagons when they travel on land, as well as offering free medical check ups for anyone that seeks one.

#one piece #zoro #sanji #luffy #trashytoastboi #fluff #sfw #one piece imagines #one piece scenarios #one piece headcanons #nico robin #nami #soul king brook #chopper #tony tony chopper #god usopp #one piece usopp #ussop #franky #cyborg franky #jinbei #jimbei #roronoa zoro #straw hat crew #straw-hat crew #one piece strawhats #mugiwara #mugiwara no ichimi

[jamesblackshaw]

New Album Pre-order

Dear all, Eight years have passed since my last album ‘Summoning Suns’ was released. A while back, feeling burnt out and like I wanted to find a bit more stability in my life, I decided to take a break from live performances and at least take my foot off the pedal a little bit with regards to writing and recording. That announcement sounded more dramatic than I intended in retrospect, but here we are in 2023, with nearly a decade of insanity between now and what felt like a comparatively breezy summer back in 2014 when I was making my last record. Life finds a way of getting in the way. Every time I wanted to jump back in and play again, it felt like something would dishearten me. The pandemic and the sudden passing of one of my best friends and closest collaborators - John Hannon, who recorded nearly everything I've ever made – in particular. I never found the stability I craved, bouncing around between bar and kitchen jobs. A couple of them I liked a fair bit. Others were awful. One even resulted in a nervous breakdown/mixed episode that lasted three months. The closest thing I found to the sense of self-worth and achievement I had while I was making music was cooking my own food, in my own food business. It's hard work a lot of the time certainly, but seeing people enjoy something you’ve made from start to finish is such a rewarding experience. I was beginning to take that job even more seriously as a full-time gig when I slipped on some black ice and broke my right shoulder one evening in mid-December last year. Aside from coping with the pain, I found myself unable to move my arm, out of work with little support and at home caring for my dog Dexter, who was diagnosed with terminal liver disease a couple days after my fall and passed away this February. For months I wondered when – and if – I’d be able to play guitar again and I wanted so desperately to throw myself back into music, to communicate something or anything at all about this overwhelming sense of loss I was feeling. I’m happy to say I'm now in good health, both physically and mentally. In fact, at the time of writing, I’m about to play a show in London this coming week. It’ll be my first since I played Oslo in early 2020. I’m also incredibly excited to announce that I’ve just started work on a new instrumental album. There’s no title yet and the cover photo you see here is just a placeholder. I plan to release the album by the end of this year and I’d be incredibly grateful for your help in achieving that. By pre-ordering on Bandcamp, you’ll be helping me enormously with recording costs, repairs, paying other musicians for their time and of course my own time. When I started out, I was fortunate that a lot of these expenses were covered by small advances from the labels I worked with, but sadly I don’t think many labels have that sort of money in such trying times. You’ll receive the full digital album as soon as it’s released, no later than the 31st of December 20203. This album will not be available to stream on Spotify or for purchase digitally anywhere else but here. Please do let me know if you’d be interested in purchasing a CD or LP later down the line. If there’s enough interest and it ends up going to press in the future, I’d like to offer everybody who pre-orders the digital version a discount so they can get their preferred version and not pay twice for both digital and physical. I truly appreciate your support and don't take it for granted. I hope this will be the first of a lot more new music to come. James Blackshaw, 03/06/23 

#Bandcamp

[krisluxxeeempress]

SCORPIO, NEW MOON | DECEMBER 12TH, 2023 | VEDIC ASTROLOGY . . .

NEW MOON IN SCORPIO (29) 4TH HOUSE, PREDICTIONS ...

NEW MOON

SCORPIO (29) 4TH HOUSE

DECEMBER 12TH, 2023

4:31PM

IF FULL MOONS ARE A TIME TO RELEASE WHETHER BY CHOICE OR FORCE, UNDERSTAND NEW MOONS ARE A TIME TO RECEIVE AND USUALLY SOMETHING BETTER. IT REMINDS ME OF THAT MEME WITH THE GOOD LORD HIDING A BIG TEDDY BEAR BEHIND HIS BACK WHILE ASKING THE LITTLE KID TO LET GO OF THE WORN DOWN AND RAGGEDY TEDDY BEAR HE’S BEEN ATTACHED TO. NEW MOONS ARE A TIME TO RECEIVE BACK WHAT WAS LOST BUT BETTER. ANYTIME WE LOSE SOMETHING, DESPITE HOW, IT IS USUALLY BECAUSE IT WAS NEVER MEANT FOR US AND OR IT’S SIMPLY TIME TO MOVE ON. IT’S HARD TO UNDERSTAND LET ALONE RESPECT THIS CONCEPT IN THE MOMENT. EXAMPLE, LOSING A LOT OF MONEY. YOU MAY HAVE LOST THE MONEY DUE TO POOR SPENDING HABITS, THEFT, AN ACCIDENT, REPAIRS, RELOCATION OR CHARITY. LOSING MONEY OR THE LACKTHEREOF, IS SOMETHING WE CAN ALL RELATE TO ESPECIALLY WHEN I SAY THOSE SITUAITONS CAUSE EXTREME EMOTIONAL TURMOIL AND DEVESTATION. CONSIDERING THIS NEW MOON IS IN SCORPIO AT 29 DEGREES, THIS INDICATES A CYCLE OF LOSS COMING TO AN END. THE 29TH DEGREE IS A CRITICAL ONE, THIS IS THE BREAKTHROUGH DEGREE AND CONGRATULATIONS- SOME OF YOU HAVE MADE IT THROUGH. SPIRITUALLY SPEAKING, YOU HAVE COMPLETED A VERY PAINFUL PHYSICAL AND PSYCHOLOGICAL INITIATION. DUE TO THE 4TH HOUSE, THIS INITIATION MAY HAVE BEGUN AT BIRTH AND AT A MUCH DEEPER LEVEL, THIS CLARIFIES GENERATIONAL KARMA BEING PAID, COMPLETED AND BROKEN THROUGH! EMOTIONALLY, WE HARBOR THESE KARMA WITHIN THE BODY AND SO DURING THIS TIME YOU MAY START TO EXPERIENCE SOME HEALTH ISSUES THAT MAY OR MAY NOT BE OF CONCERN. LIKE ANY DETOX, THINGS TEND TO GET BAD BEFORE THEY GET BETTER. IT’S LIKE YOUR SKIN BREAKING OUT DUE TO A DETOX. IT LOOKS AND MAY FEEL BAD BUT YOUR BODY IS GETTING RID OF AND FIGHTING THE ISSUE THAT IS HIDDEN UNDER THE SKIN, NOT EASILY SEEN. I WOULD LOOK TO YOUR IC PLACEMENT TO GET FUTHER CLARITY ON THE HEALTH ISSUES THAT MAY ARISE FOR YOU DURING THIS TIME. FOR ME, I HAVE AQUARIUS AT THE IC. AQUARIUS RULES BLOOD CIRCULATION, TEETH, LEGS AND THE NERVES- ALL OF WHICH I AM EXPERIENCING SOME ISSUES WITH. THE IC IS ALWAYS IN THE 4TH HOUSE. THE 4TH HOUSE AFFECTS TE 10TH HOUSE, WE ALWAYS NEED TO ADDRESS THE OPPOSITE HOUSE AND SIGN. WITH THAT BEING SAID, I HAVE VIRGO IN THE 10TH HOUSE AND VIRGO IS THE HEALING SIGN, BUT THERE WILL BE ISSUES WITH EATING DISORDERS, ULCERS, IRRITABLE BOWEL MOVEMENT, INTESTINE ISSUES, AND LIVER ISSUES- SOME OF WHICH I AM BEING AFFECTED BY. THE REASON BEING, IT NEEDS TO BE HEALED ONCE AND FOR ALL ESPECIALLY THE EMOTIONS ( MOON ENERGY) THAT TRIGGER CERTAIN BEHAVIORS THAT CAN AFFECT THOSE AREAS. YOU MAY EVEN WANT TO LOOK INTO YOUR SATURN PLACEMENT AS WELL TO DETERMINE THE TIMEFRAME THIS MAY GO ON FOR.

ON A LIGHTER NOTE, THIS NEW MOON IN SCORPIO AT 29 DEGREES AS PREVIOUSLY STATED DOES INDICATE BREAKTHROUGH ENERGY. IT’S IKE RUNNING A MARATHON AND YOU ARE VERY CLOSE TO THE FINISH LINE. USUALLY THAT LAST MILE, THOSE LAST WEEKS, DAYS, OR HOURS ARE THE MOST CRUCIAL AND STRESSFUL. IT’S AT THE END, WHEN YOUR MINDS AND BODY JUST WANTS TO STOP. YOU ARE EAGER TO REST AND REALX BUT YOU NEED TO FIGHT HARDER TO FINISH. THIS NEW MOON IN SCORPIO MAY BRING IN A LOT OF EMOTIONAL PRESSURE COMING FROM WITHIN THAT NEEDS TO BE FOUGHT FOR A LITTLE WHILE LONGER. WHEN WE EXPERIEINCE FULL MOONS, IS WHEN WE RELEASE ALL THINGS THAT ARE DEAD AND NOT OF USE OR BENEFIT ANYMORE. WE HAVE A FULL MOON ON DECEMBER 27TH, 2023 AND TO MY POINT- YOU HAVE ABOUT TWO WEEKS OF FIGHTING LEFT UNTIL YOU CAN OFFICIALLY RELEASE. IF YOU ARE HAVING HEALTH ISSUES, MINOR OR SEVERE, IT WILL GO AWAY AROUND THE FULL MOON IN GEMINI 9TH HOUSE. WE ALL INHERIT OUR ANCESTRAL GENETICS, BOTH GOOD AND BAD. WITH THAT BEING SAID, SOME OF YOU WILL BE INHERITING STRONGER PSYCHIC ABILITIES, INTUITION, AMBITION, SPIIRITUALY PROTECTION, SENSITIVITY TO YOUR ENVIRONMENT, MUSIC AND FOOD INTAKE- HENCES THE HEALTH ISSUES FOR SOME. YOU MAY OUT OF NOWHERE, BECOME ALLERGIC TO CERTAIN FOODS OR LOTIONS ETC. DURING THIS NEW MOON, YOU MAY BECOME MORE RESERVED AND INTROVERTED.  DURING THIS TIME, CONSIDERING THE MIDHEAVEN IN LEO THIS WEKK- YOU MAY START BECOMING A POPULAR  LONER. THE IC WAS ALSO IN AQUARIUS AND SO THIS CONFIRMS BECOMING POPULAR OR RECOGNIZED ONLINE, GIVING BIRTH TO THE POPULAR LONER VIBES. SOME OF YOU DURING THIS TIME MAY FIND INTERESTS OR GETTING MORE INVOLVED IN FIELDS OF PSYCHOLOGY, ENGINERING, FINANCES, THE OCCULT, DETECTIVE AND INVETIGATIVE WORK, ASTROLOGY, RESEARCH, MOTHERHOOD/ FATHERHOOD, ACTING, SCIENCE, MATH, COMPUTER DEVELOPMENT, PHOTOGRAPHY,  ENVIRONMENTAL ACTIVISM, MUSIC, ASTRONOMY AND OR FARMING. YOU WILL FIND DURING THIS NEW MOON IN SCORPIO PAIRING WITH THE IC IN AQUARIUS THAT WAS SUGGESTING ALONE TIME-  YOU WILL FIND THAT YOU HAVE NATURAL TALENTS IN THESE AREAS AND SHOULD USE THIS TIME TO LEARN AND DELVE DEEPER INTO, YOU WILL CERTAINTLY FIND HIDDEN TREASURE AKA, ANCESTRAL ABUNDANCE. DURING THIS TIME, YOU MAY EVEN BEGIN TO FIND YOUR SOUL TRIBE. WITH EVERY CRITICAL DEGREE, THERE WILL ALWAYS BE OPPOSING FORCES- SEEN AND UNSEEN THAT WILL ATTACK YOU IN ATTEMPTS TO KEEPING YOU IN A CYCLE OF DEATH, DECAY AND LOW VIBRATONS. THIS FACT COULD ALSO CONFIRM FURTHER ANY HEALTH ISSUES THAT ARISE. THE MOON, AND SCORPIO ENERGY HEAVILY DEALS WITH THE OCCULT, THE SUBCONSCIOUS AND THINGS UNSEEN. IF ANY HEALTH ISSUES ARIES, IF MINOR, TRY TO GET MORE SLEEP AND REST AS THERE IS ALWAYS HEALING FOUND WITH SLEEPING ,BUT ALSO, TRY TO GET PHYSCIALLY ACTIVE AND TRY TO PUSH THROUGH ON YOUR PROJECTS, OR STUDIES. OPPOSING FORCES WANT YOU TO BE DRAINED AND BOMBARDED WITH FEAR, WORRY AND STRESS THAT WILL TAKE A TOLL ON YOUR BODY AND ULTIMATLEY KEEP YOU FROM TAPPING INTO YOUR SPIRITUAL INHERITANCE THAT IS PROMISED TO GRANT YOU ABUNDANCE. PUSH THROUGH AS MUCH AS POSSIBLE! YOU ARE PROTECTED ALWAYS, BUT ESPECIALLY NOW BECAUSE IT’S CRITICAL. AGAIN, YOU ARE AT THE FINISH LINE AND THE DEVIL IS EXTREMELY CLOSE TO YOU, TRYING TO MAKE YOU STOP BEFORE PASSING THE FINISH LINE. THE DEVIL IS RIGHT THERE TRYING TO DRAIN YOUR ENERGY SO YOU CAN’T FINISH BUT ULTIMATLY SO YOU CANNOT BREAKTHROUGH TO CLAIM YOUR BIRTHRIGHT. FIGHT HARD!  GET IN THE GYM, THAT’S A PHYSICAL WAY TO FIGHT BACK SPIRITUALLY.

IT’S ALL ABOUT ENERGY WITH THIS NEW MOON IN SCORPIO, THAT YOU ARE VERY SENSITIVE TO.  

I AM ACCEPTING PERSONAL READINGS.

EMAIL: [email protected]

$111.11 TAROT READINGS

$ 222.22 ASTROLOGY BIRTHCHART

( TAROT: 48 HR. TURN AROUND, PRE- RECORDED)

(ASTROLOGY: 5 DAY TURN AROUND, PRE RECORDED & WRITTEN)

#new moon #breaking dawn #astrology forecast #predictive astrology #sidereal astrology #astrology aspects #vedic astrology #astrology community #astrology #astrology notes

[simonalkenmayer]

Do you think things from the supplement list would help rheumatoid arthritis? (genuine)

Rheumatoid arthritis (as you know) is an autoimmune condition, in which the body attacks joints. It’s not a condition that is triggered by or directly triggers a lack of neurotransmitters…

However…

It does induce system wide inflammation, and stress hormone production. Also the pain cycle gets triggered and no relief can be had, because of this.

So the answer is, you can absolutely take supplements to increase norepinephrine production to moderate that. You would want to pay attention to make sure that nothing from the opposite list appears, like nervousness, panic attacks, and so forth. So long as those aren’t triggered, everything you’d be taking is already in your body. It’s all completely safe so long as you have no medications or conditions that need specific management of neurotransmitters.

For example, people on an SNRI or SSRI need to pay attention and be cautious, starting at a low dose and working upward, because their meds already cause the body to retain norepinephrine, and so stockpiling can cause too much to build up. This would then,of course, induce the symptoms or conditions from the opposite list.

According to active studies using these compounds, you’d want to begin at 1000mg of N acetyl L tyrosine, 500 L-phenylalanine, and make sure to get trace minerals and vitamins D and B in either your diet or supplement form. Eating more dairy and using Tibetan pink salt would work, but so would adding them as a vitamin regimen. You can take more tyrosine throughout the day, and it is safe in very high doses, however, if pain is still ongoing even through say 3000mg, I’d recommend adding other things to handle pain. I’d recommend taking in the morning with food also, as this is a kind of stimulant, and it does sometimes keep one alert.

This is just a kind of lifting of the baseline, so to speak. It will increase repair, give your body what it needs to shut off pain, and help quite a bit, I’d reckon. You can add other pain meds on top that regulate inflammation or pain, but if you do, I’d add N acetyl Cysteine, to keep the liver healthy. But do be sure to consult with your doctor to make certain it is alright for you. If so, I wish you the best!

Also the inclusion of (genuine) is adorable. I’m not a hostile entity. I take all asks as genuine unless they are obviously attacking me. It was a very good question too!

[uniquevocashark]

Mild nsfw, lady d x oc, happy 2023!

The night was tender, in the way that a liver is tender and the way that bruised skin is tender; ripe for a gentle, sharp poke. And, if Igraine were to extend the metaphor, then the parlor room, set in several layers of disarray, would be the broken capillaries under the tender skin or the blood still leaking in the soft inner meat of the liver. That would, she supposed, make her the white blood cell, busily repairing the mess. She had been accompanied early in the night, and one by one, she had sent her girls away. And now there was only her, half a messy parlor, and the open windows that ensured her relative solitude.

But why would she be so lucky, when Miranda was in the castle?

"Igraine, how unexpected."

She set the tray of uneaten foods down and stood with her hands loose and easy by her sides, "Mother Miranda."

Miranda could wear whatever clothes she wanted, but she stayed in her simple black shift, accessorised with the sun, the stars and the moon arranged around her halo. "You seem well."

Her jewellery was silver instead of gold, "The new year is rejuvenating."

"That is good to hear."

Miranda hummed, and Igraine tilted her head, looking sidelong before resting her hands on her hips, "What, precisely, are you hoping to squeeze out this time?"

"Temper." Miranda's smiles were supercilious but her paper thin smirk rumbled with a good humour that Igraine had no desire to join in with. Miranda stroked her face, the left side from jaw to temple and back again, as if she were a tamer and Igraine a horse.

"I disagree."

"Is it so hard to believe that I am inquiring on your health because you are my underling?"

"Yes," Igraine said slowly, "You aren't here for me, after all."

Her talons dig in, "Tell Alcina I'm in the usual place," her shift changed, from simple black to effortless silk, bunching and falling delicately to reveal novelly unblemished shoulders and her now clear coloured lips pressed a soft yet burning kiss to Igraine's temple. "I'm sure she'll be along."

It's dangerous to think around Miranda, Igraine consoles herself, watching the matriarch of the entire region frolick through the room and out the door. Because Miranda can read thoughts, especially those attached to her megamycete, and one can never tell quite which thoughts are yours and which she has given, wrapped in familiar comforting words.

So maybe it is her own longing to see her Mistress, who has been absent for a month at least from her, that compels her to continue her clean up effort. Or maybe it is Miranda's, knowing that Alcina would arrive in the parlor, and leaving her little breadcrumb trail in Igraine's hands and head.

There are cakes in the food left uneaten, of all varieties; red velvet, real vanilla, chocolate, mint, carrot, pumpkin, pistachio, almond. Igraine is simple, and hungry, and eats the red velvet and chocolate slices that happen to brush against her fingertips and she is in one such simple and base moment, a red velvet cake between her teeth and her arms loaded with a tray stacked plate on plate with all manner of meat delicacies, when Lady Dimitrescu enters the parlor.

Igraine didn't serve at the event in the parlor, or at the preparation, or the organising. Lady Dimitrescu's crimson ensemble is enough to bring a touch of crimson to her cheeks from first glance that only deepens as she straightens and their eyes meet. There's mirth there, and anger, and lust. A lust that settles on Igraine like a warm, heated blanket, pressing onto every pore; Lady Dimitrescu's emotions cannot be contained, refuse to be. Like a cloud of feeling, she can whip a group into ardent fervour by the raise of her eyebrow alone and the burn of her mood.

And why, in her perfection, wouldn't she?

But there is also more to it than just her natural charisma, she is sure. Her Lady is in her winter solstice attire, made just this year, rich burgundy with a golden trim. And there are patterns too, Igraine is sure, but they are obscured in the gentle moonlight that she has been working by. They are reduced to simple dark shades and equally dark shapes playing across the muscle of Lady Dimitrescu's legs and her soft round belly.

The dress retains the mermaid shape of her causal attire but her collar opens down to her abdomen, framed with short and soft embroidery. Her skin, too, has been coloured; the small refined hairs that trail from her sternum to her belly button are powdered delicately with white, bouncing free of their makeup prison. Igraine cannot make out the colour of her skin, but in the candle she holds, her skin is a hue of glowing golden orange.

By now, Igraine has hefted her burden from the table into her hands, and, stunned, remains frozen in the middle of the room, between a chaise and the wall.

"Madame." She greets, and her voice is more breathless than she can help.

"Say my name."

"Yes, Lady Dimitrescu." She bows, improperly, but her Lady doesn't seem to notice.

She steps further into the room, smelling of earthy musk, so strong as to dim even the smell of forgotten sweets and once fresh meat. Her cheeks burn to a fresh pink but Lady Dimitrescu is placid; her expression is blank with only a tinge of vague disdain. Her breathing is uneven, loud as a bellows, and her steps, though measured, are uneven. Igraine looks down and Lady Dimitrescu looks down at her in turn.

"Why are you here?"

"I am cleaning, Madame."

"Why."

Her eyes flicker to the edge of her burgundy skirt, "The parlor needs cleaning."

"I have other maids for that."

Igraine looks up, not in fear but anger, and she is sure that her eyes spark to blood orange when her temper suddenly rises and then banks, "Miranda was here."

Lady Dimitrescu takes a long breath, and her head tilts to the other door. "She was."

She takes a step closer, and Igraine takes a step back. "She said you would understand," Igraine murmurs, stepping away, and Lady Dimitrescu steps closer, "that she would be in the 'usual place'."

Another step away, another step forward.

"Did she?"

"She did, Lady Dimitrescu."

"And," A step, "I am sure," another step, "she said nothing else."

"She did not, Lady Dimitrescu." Igraine held her tray tighter and stepped away until her back hit the wall. There was no reason to think it would change a thing; instead of scooping her off the floor, Lady Dimitrescu loomed over her, her arm on the wall and her free hand twirling Igraine's hair around a finger.

"No?"

Igraine cleared her throat, "Why waste the effort?"

Lady Dimitrescu snorted and Igraine kept her hands glued firmly to the tray handles. She tilted her head, Lady Dimitrescu's fingers brushed her cheek and there was the unmistakable headiness of her arousal; Lady Dimitrescu's eyes were a pool of inky black spread taut over gold and Igraine's, contacts abandoned, were orange layered over orange, spread like icing on a cake. She turned her face into Alcina's palm, sliding her feet apart just a smidgen.

"Neither should you." Igraine murmured, shifting the tray lower, so it sat with the sides digging into the tops of her hip bones.

"I suppose not."

Her lips quirked upwards, "And yet..."

Alcina grinned, red lips blossoming in her white painted face, her gaze as burning as a hot poker over burning coals, "Do you have a point?"

"Not at all."

"You've spent too much time around Miranda," She cupped Igraine's face roughly, stretching Igraine's neck up just so, sliding her palm comfortably between her chin and collarbone, "Always circling the point."

Igraine licked her lips, clinging to cold metal, and Alcina squeezed the next words put of existence before she could put them together.

"You should know better." Alcina's nail dug into her chin and forced her to look up, to the soft parted lips and fangs of her mistress.

"Yes, Madame."

Alcina's nose pressed into her cheek, and she forced Igraine's chin higher until she could press her cheek against the meat that connected Igraine's shoulder to her neck. Her breath is loud, unusually so, and Igraine is sure she's turned red as her mind wheels through a the possible reasons why. A minute stretches into ten; strangled by her sudden feverish skin, Igraine sighs out propriety and breathes in ragged want.

Alcina kissed her, not her lips but the dipples that interrupted the smooth lines of her cheek, dousing the entire cheek in a dark red print. It was a long and indulgent set; not one but many kisses, the main long touch and then a series of lighter, sticky pecks on her skin that ended at her temple just under the kiss Miranda had given her.

"Mind yourself." Alcina chided when Igraine turned to face her, head tilted for a kiss. Her lips pursed gently but Alcina did nothing, her hand settling on Igraine's waist and holding her still.

Alcina, prideful and bold, kissed over Miranda's mark, and Igraine shuddered softly. And then she was alone, Lady Dimitrescu was gone and all that lingered of her was the heady scent of her and her eyes, dark and dilated, and so very wanting.

#i wrote this a bit (a lot) tipsy SO its a little ubrefined and also ny spelling is shot but anyway happy new years my darlings!!! #lady dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu x oc #igraine wesker chief of castle staff #mother miranda is also here #i dont know how to write flirting #i originally wrote most of this tipsy so sorry about writing mistakes lol #my writing

[reincarnatedonthefirst]

I’ve been trying to find out what led to my non-alcoholic fatty liver and I think I found the answer. My super high cholesterol may have caused NAFLD.

The high cholesterol, I suspect, came from all the cell repair that my body did while recovering from covid over the last 3 years, as I don’t eat carbs or foods with sugar. Lowering my cholesterol will be key in getting rid of this fatty liver it seems.

I found a good supplement by Solgar called Lipotropic Factors. Lots of people in the product reviews say they take it for fatty liver.

However, I hate to buy yet another supplement. I have an appt with my new acupuncturist tomorrow and I’m going to see what he recommends. I rather take herbs instead of supplements because the Chinese formulas will usually compliment the acupuncture!

#me #health

[kalpasio]

How Long Does It Take To Date A Werewolf?

56 Seconds to Drug a Werewolf

A Werewolf!Kalpas x Hunter!Reader fic, chapter 3 below!

The next day, you reached the village that had reported having seen Kalpas. A somber atmosphere drowned the town, and you couldn’t help but mourn with them. Several houses around the edge were burned beyond repair and around ten deaths had been reported.

For fifty seconds, you and Kailah stood in silence just looking at the destruction.

The only positive thing to come from this attack was the footprints burned into the ground, marking a blatant trail for you to follow. The scorch marks were large, even for a werewolf, and you felt a little nervous as you realized what you had gotten yourself into.

A very violent, very large, and very on fire werewolf was out there, waiting for you to follow this trail and become its next meal. You were in way over your head. Waiting until daylight to confront him in his human form wasn’t even an option. Kailah told you he stayed shifted. You were fucked. While you were lost in thought, Kailah took notes about the area, meaning neither of you heard the villager shuffling out to speak with you.

“That beast’s gone if you would like to enter.” You both turned to look at the old man. Most of his white hair had fallen out, and his back was bent with age, a cane the only thing keeping him upright. Liver spots covered his arms, and you couldn’t tell if the brown of his skin was natural, or from years of working under the sun, either way, his smile was somehow kinder than Kailah’s, causing you to smile a little in return.

“We could use the business,” the man let out a dry chuckle at his own joke, making you feel a little sorry.

Looking up at the sun, you saw that it was still early morning. “I’m sorry,” you sighed. “We have a lot of ground to cover, we can’t stop here.”

“I understand,” the man nodded, still smiling. “Be safe out there.” He began turning back towards the gates when Kailah spoke up.

“Actually! We’d love to come in!” At your questioning glance she added, “Just for a minute, of course.” Sharing a smile with each other, Kailah and the old man walked into town, while you remained outside looking for anything that might help lead you to Kalpas.

It was an hour and a half—five thousand seven hundred seconds to be exact (you got bored)—before Kailah returned, struggling to carry a large sack. “What’s this?” you asked, walking over to her and easily taking the bag.

“Food…” she huffed, “and some uh… I think medicine?” The poor girl put her hands on her hips, still trying to catch her breath.

“You realize we have to carry this with us now?”

“You’re strong!” she beamed, “we’ll be fine.”

“Don’t the townspeople need these supplies? I’m sure they appreciate the money, but wouldn’t food be more helpful?”

“Oh no! Their fields are all safe, they just need the money to help pay for the repairs to their homes. I also wrote up a report that I’ll bring back to Fire Moth, so hopefully these people get some help.” You slowly nodded and opened the sack. It wasn’t too heavy for you to carry, but in its current state, it was rather awkward, so you began sorting the supplies, placing the heavier items in your own bag.

“What are we supposed to do with a bottle of wine?” You looked at Kailah and she gave you a sheepish smile.

“Disinfectant?”

“Don’t you work in a lab? We’d want something stronger. Besides,” you sighed placing the bottle in your bag anyway. “Werewolves either leave you alone or kill you dead. No in between.” Your partner nodded mutely. She had almost forgotten why you were out here. For her, this had just been a good chance to do some research and stretch her legs. Dying hadn’t exactly been on the agenda.

After a quick lunch, you started following the footprints from the village. Unsurprisingly, they lead into the woods nearby. Honestly, it was a miracle there hadn’t been a forest fire. Eventually the burned steps lost their charred look and became just imprints on the ground. The whole time, you kept your rapier out, just in case, but you were still only tracking by the time the sun began to set.

You were much more careful about setting up camp this time, since you didn’t know how close the werewolf was. The fire was built to produce as little smoke as possible, and you ate food that didn’t need to be cooked so that the scent wouldn’t attract any unwanted visitors. Though you woke every few hours, the night passed peacefully, and in the morning, you resumed your tracking.

A little after midday, right before you stopped for lunch, you heard it. Not the snarls of a wolf about to turn you into its meal, but shouting. Chanting. An incantation you counted to be exactly seven seconds in length that was being repeated.

Glancing at Kailah, you dropped your bag, gave a firm order of “stay here,” and took off. Your breathing picked up with anxiety, but you still counted. Eighty-four seconds, and then you reached the source of the chanting. A witch stood in a clearing, along with a very angry werewolf. The spell, you realized, was a protection charm to keep the claws away from the young witch’s face, but the translucent shield was forming some concerning cracks.

With each blow from the werewolf, the bubble grew weaker, and you knew you only had a few seconds before it shattered completely. If the witch was any good, the bubble breaking would stun his attacker and give you the opening you needed to bind the werewolf.

In five seconds, you had summoned your cross, and in seven, you got the witch’s attention and gave a nod. As soon as he nodded back, there was a sound of glass breaking, and the low drone of magic being released. There was a flash of light that came with the shield dropping, that forced you to look away for a second, but the werewolf got the brunt of it. He stumbled back, right into your range, giving you the perfect opportunity to plant your cross in the ground and send silver chains to bind the beast.

With most MANTISes, there was a moment (roughly four seconds) of snarling and snapping jaws before they would give in. In the morning, they would return to their human form and forget it had even happened. MOTHs that had lost themselves in the surgery, however, didn’t stop. They growled and wailed for hours. Getting anywhere near them was a death sentence, and when morning came, it didn’t stop.

And that’s what was happening now. When you counted a full ten seconds with no change, you glanced at the ground and saw smoldering grass. This had to be Kalpas. Had Fire Moth really sent you to retrieve an agent who was lost?

“Hey! Thanks for sav—”

“Can you walk?” You looked over to the witch who had just approached you. With the bubble out of the way, you could see him clearly now. He wore burnt orange robes that brought out the natural bronze in his cheeks which seemed stuck in a smile despite almost having died two seconds ago. His hair was locked into thick strands with all of them carefully pulled away from his face (a common practice among witches who preferred their hair unburnt by magic).

The lack of a sigil on the front of his robes told you he wasn’t part of any magic organizations which meant he was powerful enough to work on his own, had been kicked out, or both. Having received no response to your question, you were about to repeat yourself when there was a particularly fierce rattling of the chains and you both jumped.

“Yeah-! Yeah, I can walk, but we can’t just leave this guy here.” The witch finally dropped his grin and was looking between you and Kalpas.

“I know. I have to stay here so he doesn’t move. Can you go get my…partner?”

“Your…partner?”

“Yes, my partner,” you spoke through gritted teeth. You really should’ve just said ‘friend,’ it would’ve been so much simpler.

“And where can I find your…partner?” he was definitely teasing you, but you needed Kailah here now, so you ignored it.

“About a minute and a half that way,” you pointed behind yourself.

“Got it,” and there he goes. How people run in robes like that without catching them on anything was beyond you. Maybe he used some sort of spell—

One of the chains snapped and you immediately refocused on the werewolf in front of you, doing your best to keep him restrained. While you had seen werewolves during the day before, they had all looked human; this form was something you only saw at night. This MANTIS in particular seemed strange, and you found yourself staring for a while.

He was much taller than any werewolf you had seen, towering a good meter or so above you.  The claws on his hands were so sharp you knew your armor—which could withstand other werewolf’s attacks just fine—would be tissue paper if he tore into you. Supernatural amounts of speed and strength were to be expected from someone who had received the surgery, but constantly being on the verge of catching fire was new.

There was also the fact that he hadn’t once looked at you. After being bound, and even after his original target left, Kalpas’ attention never drifted to you. Either this man had the world’s worst cold and couldn’t smell you, or he was completely uninterested. He was still snarling in the direction of Kailah and the witch—you should really ask his name—and the sound only intensified when they both returned. Three more chains broke, and you quickly bound the hand that had escaped, but it was clear you were growing tired.

“Kailah, please tell me you have that miracle potion,” you grumbled, not looking away.

“Oh—um. Yeah! Yes. It’s…” She was panicking, and while you certainly felt bad to put her on the spot in this situation, you desperately needed her to do her job. “It’s right…right here!” she held up the vial with trembling fingers.

“Great,” your voice was audibly strained when you held your hand out. Kailah didn’t even make it a step towards you before all the chains broke. Exhaustion took you for a second as your cross faded, and you stumbled back against a tree. Breathe, you told yourself. Holding a hand to your head, you counted in an attempt to regain your balance. One second. Two—

There was a snarl. And a scream.

Snapping your eyes open, you grabbed your dagger and did your best to stand upright. Kailah and the witch stood behind a protective shield, but you knew he was too tired to keep the bubble up for long. And you were too tired to summon your cross, let alone bind the werewolf.

With a silent apology to your grandparents for the very stupid thing you were about to do, you drew your rapier. Next second, your dagger sunk into the werewolf’s back, effectively grabbing his attention.

For the first time, his eyes met yours, and the fire within them felt like it was physically burning you. He gave a growl that you could feel in your bones and launched himself towards you. Quickly, you dodged and ducked behind a tree. Without even batting an eye, Kalpas swung one massive claw and took down the tree.

Oh, what had you gotten yourself into.

Counting? Not happening. Breathing? Nope. There was not a thought in your mind other than “survive.”

Claws slashed at you with increasing speed, and you were running out of ways to dodge. Throwing a vial of wolfsbane at your feet earned you another growl, but it kept Kalpas away for the second you needed. A blast of wind sent him flat on his back, and the dagger that was still there sent him howling. With no other way to restrain him, you drove your rapier through his forearm and into the ground.

The thought of what you had done made you wince, but the pitiful whimper that followed made you feel horrible. Your blade was sunk completely into the ground, and the combined silver of your weapons weakened him enough that he couldn’t reach over and pull your sword out. Panting heavily, you turned to Kailah for the vial, but she was just staring awestruck at the man next to her.

“You saved my life!” she shouted so loud you winced, but the witch just chuckled.

“I just met you! It’d be a shame if you died before I got to ask you on a date,” the two giggled and leaned in, causing you to groan.

“Can you two wait to kiss until after the thing that tried to kill you is delt with?”

Kailah frowned at you, “He’s not a thing.”

“I know. I know,” you slid down the side of a nearby tree to sit on the ground. “Can you please drug him before we become forest food?”

Kailah walked over and let out a yelp when Kalpas half-heartedly snapped his jaws at her. Your weapons weren’t enough to kill him, but with your dagger was to his heart, he was definitely a bit sluggish. Fifty-six seconds later, Kailah finished, and Kalpas passed out, slowly returning to his human form. Standing shakily, you walked over and drew your sword from his arm, grimacing the whole time and offering silent apologies. After that, you rolled him over and removed the dagger. Cleaning both, you placed them in their respective sheaths.

Apart from the stab wounds, the man in front of you was pretty decent looking. White hair that looked a little burnt on the ends—you guessed he kept his fire abilities regardless of form. He had lost a bit of his height, but he would still be much taller than you when standing. The muscles in his arms were well defined, the same went for his abs and—

He’s not wearing clothes.

Frantically turning away with a blush, you tried to pretend you weren’t just ogling a naked guy. It was an accident! Ok, maybe it wouldn’t make sense for him to be wearing clothes, and maybe you had seen werewolves change before, but you forgot! Wanting to forget what had just happened, you looked for Kailah, and just felt worse.

Of course they were kissing. With a groan, you ran a hand down your face and walked over to the pack Kailah had brought with her to grab a blanket. You made a point to not stare while covering Kalpas, and by the time you were done, the kissing was over.

“So…” Kailah giggled, “I hear we’re partners?” Sighing at her teasing, you slumped down to the ground.

“Not right now,” you fully laid down on your back and covered your eyes with an arm, attempting to block out all the flirting. “Do you even know each other’s names?” There was silence for a second that made you laugh just a bit.

“I’m Kailah!”

“Madikis!”

“You guys are killing me,” you only sighed more when they came to sit by you. After introducing yourself, you asked, “So what were you doing out here?”

“Oh! I run a um…apothecary.” Why did he sound so unsure? “I was just gathering some herbs.”

“What kind of herbs?” Kailah was immediately interested, and you knew you were going to be here a while.

On the bright side, the two set up camp while they chatted, leaving you and Kalpas to rest on the ground. When food was ready, you sat up and joined them. It was a simple mushroom soup, but you didn’t care. It could be dirt and you’d shovel it in your mouth and pass out for the night. Kailah and Madikis continued talking with you chiming in occasionally. It was truly impressive how long the two of them could go on for.

“This is so lucky!” Kailah exclaimed, though you were beginning to doubt she could sound not excited. “You can just teleport us back to base, so we don’t have to walk!” You’d be lying if you said teleporting didn’t sound nice right now. It was easily a full week of walking back to your town, and another four days after that to Fire Moth. Add in the fact that Kalpas would fight you the whole way back—or at least be a lot of extra weight—it would probably be a month-long journey.

But when Madikis gave an awkward smile, you knew it wasn’t happening.

“That fight actually took a lot out of me,” he glanced at you who currently resembled a lump after all that had happened. “Took a lot out of me, in terms of magic,” he corrected. “I wouldn’t have enough energy to take you all there.”

“What if I didn’t go?” you asked. Really, you just wanted to get Kalpas off your hands and Fire Moth off your back. Plus, walking back with these two seemed like a good way to go insane.

“What?! I’m not leaving you out here!” Kailah sounded like you were offering to die for her, so you explained your logic.

“I’ll travel faster alone, especially without him around,” you waved at Kalpas. “And I’ll only be going home, not to Fire Moth. Going to your base and back adds more than a week to the trip, and honestly, I’d rather not be seen there.” That seemed to satisfy her, but Madikis still shook his head.

“I couldn’t even get myself there.” At the return of Kailah’s pout, he tried to placate her. “I can take you all back in a week! I should be good by then.”

“A week is better than a month. We can go back to that village and stay there. Maybe even help them rebuild a bit.” You ended the sentence with a yawn that passed through the group. The other two agreed, and with that, you turned in for the night.

You know the wikihow of "flashbang your dog"? that's what happened to Kalpas. Also someone PLEASE tell me why I keep fucking introducing whole ass characters to the story for no reason. This piece would be like half the length if I didn't insist on making some weird relationship between two characters I made up on the spot

#kalpas x reader #azaryawrites #honkai x reader #tamalethebear #cross posted on ao3

[bintook]

What is Keto Diet and how to Start with it?

The Keto, short for Ketogenic, is a high-fat and low-carb diet that has gained popularity in recent years for its potential benefits in weight loss, improving blood sugar control, and increasing energy levels. The best thing about the Keto diet is its ability to induce a state of ketosis, where the body switches from burning glucose for energy to burning fats instead. This can lead to significant weight loss and improved insulin sensitivity in individuals with diabetes.

In addition to weight loss and improved blood sugar control, many people also report feeling more satiated on a Keto diet due to its high-fat content, leading to less snacking throughout the day. Furthermore, research has suggested that the Keto diet may have numerous health benefits such as protecting against neurological diseases and body inflammation, and may even help reduce the risk of developing some chronic diseases like cancer, Alzheimer's, and heart disease.

Overall, the best thing about the Keto diet is its ability to improve overall health and well-being while still allowing for a wide range of delicious and satiating foods, including healthy fats and vegetables. For those interested in trying out the Keto diet, there are also many free Keto recipes available online to help get started.

How does the Keto diet work?

The Keto diet works by limiting the intake of carbohydrates to a very low amount, typically less than 50 grams per day. This forces the body to switch from using glucose as its primary energy source to using ketones, which are produced when the body breaks down fat. This process is called ketosis and can lead to significant weight loss and improved blood sugar control.

2. What can you eat on a Keto diet?

On a Keto diet, the focus is on high-fat foods such as avocados, nuts and seeds, oils, butter, and fatty cuts of meat like beef and pork. You can also eat non-starchy vegetables like leafy greens, broccoli, and cauliflower, and small amounts of low-carb fruits like berries. However, you should avoid starchy vegetables, grains, sugar, and most fruits as they are high in carbohydrates.

3. What are the potential benefits of the Keto diet?

Apart from weight loss and improved blood sugar control, the Keto diet may have several other potential health benefits. For instance, some studies suggest that it may help reduce inflammation, protect against certain neurological diseases, and lower the risk of developing some chronic diseases such as cancer, Alzheimer's, and heart disease.

4. Are there any risks or side effects associated with the Keto diet?

Some people may experience side effects when starting a Keto diet, such as fatigue, headaches, and nausea, which are usually temporary and subside within a few days or weeks. Additionally, the Keto diet may not be suitable for everyone, especially those with certain medical conditions such as pancreatitis, liver disease, or gallbladder disease. It is always a good idea to talk to your healthcare provider before starting any new diet or exercise regimen.

The keto diet food pyramid is a visual guide that shows the recommended intake of different food groups on a ketogenic diet. Here is an example of a keto diet food pyramid:

At the bottom of the pyramid, we have the foundation of the keto diet, which consists of:

Low-carbohydrate vegetables such as leafy greens, broccoli, cauliflower, zucchini, and asparagus. These are high in fiber, vitamins, and minerals, and should be included in every meal to provide bulk and essential nutrients.

Moving up the pyramid, we have:

Healthy fats such as avocado, nuts and seeds, olive oil, coconut oil, and butter. These should be consumed in moderation but are a crucial part of the keto diet as they provide the body with energy and help to keep you feeling full.

High-quality protein sources such as meat, poultry, fish, eggs, and cheese. These are important for building and repairing muscles and tissues in the body.

At the top of the pyramid, we have:

Low-sugar fruits such as berries and avocados. These are a good source of fiber and antioxidants and can be included in small amounts on a keto diet.

Carbohydrates in the form of starchy vegetables, grains, and processed foods should be avoided or limited on a ketogenic diet as they can kick you out of ketosis.

It is important to note that the serving sizes and amounts of each food group on the keto diet may vary depending on your individual needs and goals. It is always best to consult with a healthcare professional or registered dietitian before starting any new diet.

The ketogenic diet has become increasingly popular in recent years as a way to lose weight, improve health markers, and increase energy levels. Here is an ultimate keto meal plan that will help you achieve your goals while keeping your meals exciting and delicious.

Breakfast:

2 eggs cooked in 1 tablespoon of butter or ghee

2 slices of bacon

1/2 avocado

Black coffee or tea with a tablespoon of heavy cream

Lunch:

Grilled chicken breast or baked salmon with lemon butter sauce

1 cup of sautéed spinach with garlic and olive oil

1/4 cup of cherry tomatoes

1/4 cup of sliced cucumber

1/4 cup of sliced almonds

Dinner:

Baked chicken thighs with rosemary and garlic

1 cup of roasted broccoli with garlic and olive oil

1/2 cup of cauliflower rice

1/4 cup of sliced mushrooms

Snacks:

1 ounce of macadamia nuts

1 ounce of cheddar cheese

1/2 cup of sliced cucumber with 2 tablespoons of ranch dressing

1 hard-boiled egg

Beverages:

Water

Sparkling water

Unsweetened tea or coffee

Almond milk or coconut milk (unsweetened)

Tips:

Make sure to stay hydrated by drinking plenty of water throughout the day.

Plan and prep your meals ahead of time to make it easier to stick to the diet.

Use herbs and spices to add flavor to your meals instead of sugar or other high-carb seasonings.

Choose healthy fats such as avocado, olive oil, nuts, and seeds instead of unhealthy fats like processed vegetable oils.

Experiment with new recipes to keep your meals exciting and avoid boredom.

Remember, the key to a successful ketogenic diet is to stick to the plan and track your progress. Keep in mind that this meal plan is just a starting point, and you may need to make adjustments based on your individual needs and preferences.

#keto plan #keto diet #health & fitness #beauty #wellness #organic

[emmairwindesign]

This piece of writing is a result of The Urgency Of The Arts module that took place at the Royal College of Art in 2023 for the School of Arts and Humanities. As a student on the writing program, I picked the theme of 'Liminal/Digital' hosted by Gareth Polmeer. I've titled the piece 'Stock Images are Disgusting', and aim to explain why in relation to the liminal/digital.

I need to speak to you urgently: implies that there’s some imminent catastrophe, an impending crisis that will impale us unless we act immediately. 

And yes, there is a certain urgency that we should attach to our actions. Unless we do something to address our concerns with the ever-growing pile of catastrophes occurring everyday on our planet, we enable them to continue on their paths of destruction. Before the Urgency of the Arts talks, I wrote an essay on the topic of slow-violence, based on the environmental crimes committed in Cancer Alley, Louisiana. It was good to hear from Hannah Chalew, as an artist practising within this territory. 

We experience everyday slow-horror; a creeping, incremental kind of daily destruction to the point it’s become normal, and I think Celia Pym called this subtly to our attention in her talk. She addressed it through the idea of repair. Her practice is concerned with mending, reparation and care. She explained that mending garments is a slow, laborious process, but it fundamentally distils to an act, and subsequently a habit, of care. It’s this plurality of care that caught my attention; for the individual, for the garment, and for the planet (as mending is a sustainable practice). It’s also a very real, true, and authentic practice - unlike the other examples I will share with you today.

Celia Pym, Norwegian Sweater, 2010

It has been brought to my attention that there’s an aesthetic opposite to this slow-practice. There is a more immediate, disgusting, aesthetic practice that was revealed to me this week. Hence the name of this short talk; stock images are disgusting. 

The level of disgust I felt peaked, and felt validated when a peer (Ophir) made it known to the group that Jon Rafman has accusations of sexual misconduct levelled against him, and his work was subsequently rejected by several galleries as a result. This has made me grateful for the aspects of group discussion we’ve experienced this week as part of Urgency of the Arts.

Punctured Sky, by Jon Rafman is a short film about an imagined video game. The protagonist is a gamer, and we experience the film through his first-person perspective, and we never see what he looks like. Discomfort and disgust were key elements in my experience of the film; the characters have animalistic facial features, they have pig snouts and cow ears. 

Jon Rafman , Punctured Sky, Joey Bernstein sat at his gamer table in the back of the mall, 2021

The film is concerned with gamer lifestyles, it depicts their messy desks littered with monster energy drink cans, vapes, ashes, food wrappers and unfinished meals. The friend in the film, Joey Bernstein, is severely obese and dies from stage four liver cancer, no doubt as a result of his poor lifestyle. One desk appeared to have water bottles that were filled with urine in order that the gamer didn’t have to leave the desk to urinate, another had a bottle of lotion next to used tissues, implying masturbation had occurred at the desk of the gamer. 

Jon Rafman , Punctured Sky, disgusting gamer desk, 2021

This perspective of gamer-lifestyles can be extrapolated beyond the gamerverse, towards a commentary on our relationship with technology. I believe Rafman’s choice to construct the entire film from what appeared to be stock images is a deliberate attempt to materialise our ‘flattening’ of ourselves and our existences into digital media. ‘Flattening’ may also be referred to as standardisation or “abstraction” as mentioned in the Eflux Journal ‘The Internet does not exist’. The ‘flattening’ I’m referring to is the compression of reality into the flattened dimensionality of the screen. Whether by documenting our lives on social media platforms, or spending vast amounts of time interacting with screens, the stock photo epitomises this aesthetic. It delocalizes the subject-matter, ripping the individual or object from their original context and in my opinion is the concentrated form of the internet’s un-truth.

Mismatched hands in the first-person perspective was particularly jarring for me; different images/footage of hands were used for driving a car to those that opened a laptop screen. The hands did not match, and they didn't match the feet that appeared out from the bottom of the bedsheets. I believe this speaks to the disembodiment that occurs as we upload more of ourselves to, and subsequently ‘download’ more aspects of our personalities and livelihoods from digital interactions. I felt discomfort, I felt disembodied, and I felt the protagonist was disembodied from himself, too. 

The stock images create and uphold this disgusting, disembodied, liminal space. 

Render Ghosts is an exploration by James Bridle into the stock-images of people that are utilised in architectural models. He says “The Render Ghosts are the people who live inside our imaginations, in the liminal space between the present and the future, the real and the virtual, the physical and the digital. A world of architecture, urbanism and the city before it is completed - which is also never.” These ‘render ghosts’ have become detached from their own identities. Bridle launched a project where he intended to track down the people he found in the photos, creating ‘missing person’ style posters with his contact details. The ‘missing’ people were the identities of the individuals depicted in the stock photos.

James Bridle, Render Ghosts/Render Search , Do you recognise these people poster, 2013

I suppose the main point I’m making here is we don’t know who, or what personalities are being invoked by turning people into stock photos. There’s a certain kind of person that simply shouldn’t be allowed to become a stock image, that shouldn’t be allowed to appear in architectural models. Who let this man be a stock photo?! (Show photo of trump).

Trump being used as a stock image, James Bridle, Render Ghosts, 2013

Disembodiment is dangerous, and I believe digitality is a perpetrator of this offence. 

But I also think that disgust, and stock photos can play a vital role in the commentary on our predicament, and sometimes this is achieved through humour. In the case I’m about to mention, it’s not problematic in the way Punctured Sky was, it’s a different kind of disgust that’s brought to us through the use of stock-photos. I’m thinking about UNHhhh, a comedy series by drag queens Trixie and Katya - the editing style is really meme-ified and jarring compared to regular, ‘unseen’ editing styles that are unnoticed, and aim to make a video smooth and consumable.

UNHhhh Episode 142, The Weather, 2020, WOW Productions

In an interview, editor Ron Hill says the style originated from “what can I do really quick with no resources?”, and quite often this results in large format text and stock images/videos added to the green-screen footage in a raw, cut-and-paste style. It can only be described as garish and kitsch, as they might be considered as poor aesthetic taste, but are appreciated in an ironic or knowing way. He describes it as “nonsensical photo montage comedy”.

UNHhhh Episode 142, The Weather, 2020, WOW Productions

I think this stock-photo raw garishness aligns perfectly with the context of drag. Drag usurps and comments on everything that is wrong with our cis-het society, and does so appropriately through comedy, in this vulgar, over the top, deliberately disgusting manner. But, that’s part of what makes it hilarious and brilliant. Susan sontag writes that “the essence of Camp is its love of the unnatural: of artifice and exaggeration” She later explains that a key part of Camp is “artifice”; devices or expedients used to trick or deceive others. And I think we can classify stock images within this type of description, only they are not concealed - they are a clear acknowledgement of the deception and un-reality of drag. They allude to the performativity of the medium as expedients are “convenient but possibly improper or immoral”, and stock photos are, too. They are improper, disembodied, falsified representations of reality, and by ripping them from the web, they become immoral, as they are inauthentic. 

Sontag also references Bosch, along with Artaud, and comments that their goal is “not creating harmonies, but of overstraining the medium and introducing more and more violent and unresolvable subject matter”. I read Bosch’s Garden of Earthly delights as an early example of ‘flattening’, where the subjects/objects don’t have a seamless synergy with each other or their environment. There’s a discomfort attached to the invocation of multitudes of meaning, contexts and interactions that occur in this triptych.

Garden of Earthly Delights, Hieronymus Bosch, 1490-1510

Garden of Emoji delights by Carla Gannis, 2014

Things are not real, but not entirely unreal either, they become liminal; and as Sontag says, they are “violent and unsolvable”. In Punctured Sky it’s the slow-violence gamers commit against themselves, as we learned from the effects of Joey Bernstein’s lifestyle on his body, and from the disgusting, unhealthy traces that are left on the desks of the gamers. In UNHhhh, it’s the way that Katya is edited into a helicopter, on a satirical news-headline of a traffic assassin helicopter that shoots lasers and creates explosions on the street. In render ghosts, it’s the separation of personal image from identity, and allowing Donald Trump’s identity and personal connotations to ‘fill in’ for a ‘man in a suit’ stock photo, subsequently destroying the safety of the regular anonymity that is normally afforded in this context, by a regular stock-photo model. It’s the figure pooping coins, or the other being sodomised by a piece of fruit in The Garden of Earthly delights. It’s all the “violent and unsolvables”.

If I had more time to work on this piece, the Garden of Emoji Delights would segue into a discussion of memes, and possibly toxic masculinity in the online space. However memes aren’t something I’ve read enough, or know enough about to comment on at this time. 

But something I have noticed this week through the seminars, is that for most people this was an opening, or a continuing of a curiosity. I’d like to frame my experience as a form of closure on an idea I had several years ago.

Skeuomorphs from 2019/2020, images are my own.

I was looking at internet imagery (namely old desktop icons, skeuomorphs) and how the windows desktop icons were modelled on the layout of an office. I was trying to comment on the aesthetic of flattened images, and trying to link this to defining an aesthetic of internet imagery; asking “what do internet images look like?”. At the time I didn’t have the language to articulate this or find an answer. But like I said at the beginning, something fell into place when I watched Punctured Sky, and then a peer mentioned Rafman’s sexual offences. A thought fell into place where stock-images are in fact the internet - image - aesthetic I was searching for previously, and for some reason they disgust me. And so this week has been a catalyst for a previous thought I had, and has allowed me to write this short piece I didn’t have the experiences to compile a few years ago.

Bibliography:

https://www.reading design.org/render-ghosts

https://walkerart. org/magazine/keep-that-ron-and-jeff-the-editors-of-unhhhh-on-the-radical-transparency-of-comedy

Sontag, S. (2018) Notes on "camp". S.l.: Penguin.

Aranda, J., Wood, B. and Vidokle, A. (2015). The Internet does not exist. 1st ed. Berlin: Sternberg Press, p.8.

 Thom Davies (2018) Toxic Space and Time: Slow Violence, Necropolitics, and Petrochemical Pollution, Annals of the American Association of Geographers, 108:6, 1537-1553, DOI: 10.1080/24694452.2018.1470924

#writing

[danielstock]

Is the keto diet effective in weight loss?

1. Ketosis

Ketosis occurs when the body's fat stores are depleted, resulting in the production of ketones, or beta-hydroxybutyrate (BHB), in the blood. When the liver breaks down BHB, it produces glucose and insulin. Insulin is the hormone responsible for regulating blood sugar levels in the body, however, if insulin levels remain high, the excess glucose is stored as glycogen instead of being converted into usable energy. Ketosis generally results in increased appetite, fatigue, lack of focus and mental clarity, dry mouth, and rapid heartbeat.

2. Benefits of Keto Diet

The ketogenic diet achieved its initial popularity over a century ago when doctors first observed that patients who receive prolonged fasts often experience dramatic improvements in their neurological symptoms. Patients with epilepsy report fewer seizures while on the diet. A ketogenic diet may be recommended for children with intractable epilepsy due to its safety and potential efficacy for seizure reduction. In addition to epilepsy, studies have shown that a ketogenic diet may improve other medical conditions including Alzheimer’s disease, type 2 diabetes, Parkinson’s disease, sleep disorders, migraine headaches, polycystic ovarian syndrome, and cancer.

3. Types of Ketogenic Diets

There are two types of ketogenic diets: High carbohydrate low glycemic index (HLGI) and Low carbohydrate high glycemic index (LCHI). HLGI is based on the premise that processed foods are causing our bodies to become too acidic and thus disrupting normal metabolic pathways. Foods with high glycaemic indexes cause spikes in blood sugar levels that increase insulin secretion and create a positive feedback loop where the brain craves carbs and sugar to manage these elevated insulin levels. To avoid this problem, LCHI emphasizes avoiding highly processed foods and favoring whole food choices. There are many different types of ketogenic diets available, including Atkins, Keto, Ornish, Zone, etc.

4. Advantages of Keto Diet

A ketogenic diet has many advantages. Studies suggest that a ketogenic diet could help reduce both cardiovascular risk factors and type 2 diabetes. As mentioned earlier, it has been proven that people with epilepsy achieve symptom relief when they go through a strict ketogenic diet. Another advantage is that a ketogenic diet can help those who suffer from obesity or overweight. By cutting out simple carbs and replacing them with fats, this diet helps produce satiety signals so users eat less at each meal. An added advantage of the ketogenic diet is that it has few side effects. People who follow this diet limit themselves from having certain foods, therefore leading to no cravings. Lastly, compared to other dietary approaches, a ketogenic diet is easier to maintain. Because the diet isn't restrictive, it makes it much simpler to incorporate healthy habits and lifestyle changes.

5. Disadvantages of Ketogenic Dieting

While on a ketogenic diet, individuals need to make sure that they get enough protein and vitamins to ensure good health. Inadequate protein intake can lead to muscle loss. Vitamin D and vitamin C are also important to consume since they play a role in the creation of collagen, which is necessary to repair damaged skin cells caused by daily sun exposure. Fats aren't digested, so people should avoid eating foods rich in omega-6 fatty acids, like grains and dairy products. Omega-6 fatty acids promote inflammation in the body. When fat does not get burned off (this happens after six months on a ketogenic diet), it increases the likelihood of heart problems later in life.

Best Keto Diet Plan - Click Here

6. Weight Loss

One major advantage of going keto is that it creates a state of nutritional ketosis that causes weight loss. Since the body’s preferred fuel source becomes fat, people lose weight without feeling hungry or deprived. Research shows that about 80% to 90% of people who try a ketogenic diet lose 5-10 pounds within the first 30 days. Fat burns calories whereas carbs burn only about 4 calories per gram. Therefore, once the body shifts to ketosis, it uses stored fat for fuel rather than sugar. A study published in the journal Cell Metabolism suggests that the keto diet triggers genes involved in forming cellular structures called mitochondria, which then burn fat more efficiently.

7. Blood Sugar Levels

Another benefit of a ketogenic diet is that blood sugar levels tend to be lower. A review published in Frontiers in Endocrinology explains how the ketogenic diet works by controlling hormonal secretions. Hormone secretions affect how the pancreas functions, which determines whether the body turns blood sugar into usable energy or holds onto it. When blood sugar levels are higher, hormones encourage the body to store sugar. However, when blood sugar levels drop, hormones encourage the body release sugar into the bloodstream. When the body switches to using fat as fuel, it prevents spikes in blood sugar levels, hence reducing the chances of heart disease and diabetes. The ketogenic diet has also been associated with improved cholesterol, reduced triglycerides, and reduced blood pressure.

#health #gut health #weight lifting #weight loss #loss weight #weight loss exercise #weight loss fast #exersice #workout #gym #fitness gym #fitness #belly fat loss #belly fat #ab workout #ketodiet #keto tips #keto recipes #weight loss diet

[anjaliprabhakar]

Body Detox: How to Do It (The Safe and Effective Way)

The concept of body detox has become a popular buzzword in the world of health and wellness. Cleanse diets, juice fasts, and an endless array of detox supplements promise to rid your body of toxins, boost energy levels, and even melt away unwanted pounds.

But before you jump on the latest detox bandwagon, let's delve deeper into what a body detox actually is and explore some safe and effective ways to support your body's natural detoxification process.

The Myth of Toxins and the Power of Your Body

Our bodies are remarkably self-sufficient. We have a built-in detoxification system comprised of organs like the liver, kidneys, lungs, and skin that work tirelessly to eliminate waste products and toxins. The liver plays a starring role, filtering toxins from the bloodstream and converting them into harmless substances that are then excreted through urine, feces, and sweat.

The idea that our bodies accumulate toxins that need a special detox program to be eliminated is a misconception. While exposure to environmental pollutants and unhealthy lifestyle choices can certainly put a strain on our detoxification system, our bodies are remarkably effective at handling these challenges.

So, Why Do We Feel Sluggish Sometimes?

If you're feeling sluggish, bloated, or lacking in energy, there are several factors at play besides a buildup of toxins. Here are some more likely culprits:

Poor Diet: A diet high in processed foods, sugary drinks, unhealthy fats, and lacking in fiber can leave you feeling sluggish and contribute to digestive issues.

Lack of Sleep: When you don't get enough quality sleep, your body doesn't have a chance to repair and recharge, leading to fatigue and decreased energy levels.

Stress: Chronic stress wreaks havoc on your hormones and can negatively impact your digestion, sleep, and overall well-being.

Dehydration: When you're not properly hydrated, your body struggles to function optimally, leading to fatigue, headaches, and constipation.

The Safe and Effective Detox

The good news is that you don't need a fad diet or expensive supplements to detoxify your body. Here are some simple yet powerful strategies to support your body's natural detoxification system and feel your best:

Focus on a Whole-Food Diet: Prioritize whole, unprocessed foods like fruits, vegetables, whole grains, and lean proteins. These foods are packed with essential nutrients that support your body's detoxification processes.

Fiber is Your Friend: Fiber plays a crucial role in digestion and elimination. Aim to include plenty of fiber-rich foods like fruits, vegetables, beans, lentils, and whole grains in your diet. Fiber helps move waste products through your digestive system efficiently, preventing constipation and promoting healthy detoxification.

Hydration is Key: Water is essential for every bodily function, including detoxification. Aim to drink plenty of water throughout the day to keep your body hydrated and facilitate the elimination of toxins through urine and sweat.

Power Up with Antioxidants: Antioxidants help combat free radicals, harmful molecules that can damage cells and contribute to various health problems. Include plenty of antioxidant-rich fruits and vegetables in your diet, like berries, leafy greens, citrus fruits, and nuts.

Don't Forget the Cruciferous Veggies: Cruciferous vegetables like broccoli, cauliflower, kale, and Brussels sprouts are rich in compounds that support your liver's detoxification pathways.

Limit Processed Foods, Sugar, and Unhealthy Fats: Processed foods, sugary drinks, and unhealthy fats can burden your liver and hinder its ability to detoxify your body effectively. Minimize your intake of these foods and choose healthier alternatives.

Move Your Body: Regular exercise is excellent for your overall health and detoxification. Exercise promotes sweating, which helps eliminate toxins through your skin. Aim for at least 30 minutes of moderate-intensity exercise most days of the week.

Prioritize Sleep: When you sleep, your body goes into repair mode. Adequate sleep is essential for detoxification and overall well-being. Aim for 7-8 hours of quality sleep each night.

Manage Stress: Chronic stress can take a toll on your detoxification system. Find healthy ways to manage stress, such as yoga, meditation, spending time in nature, or spending time with loved ones.

Support Your Gut Health: A healthy gut microbiome is crucial for overall health and detoxification. Probiotics, found in fermented foods like yogurt and kefir, or probiotic supplements can help support a healthy gut environment.

Detoxing Myths to Debunk

Juice Cleanses and Restrictive Diets: While these may seem like a quick fix, they can be counterproductive. They can deprive your body of essential nutrients and disrupt your blood sugar levels, leaving you feeling tired and irritable.

Colon Cleanses: There's no scientific evidence that colon cleanses are necessary or even beneficial. Your colon is already well-equipped to eliminate waste products. Colon cleanses can disrupt the delicate balance of bacteria in your gut and potentially lead to dehydration and electrolyte imbalances.

Detox Supplements: The market is flooded with detox supplements, but many lack scientific backing for their claimed benefits. Some supplements may even interact with medications you're taking or have unintended side effects.

When to Consult a Doctor

If you're experiencing persistent symptoms like fatigue, bloating, digestive issues, or unexplained weight loss, it's important to consult with your doctor to rule out any underlying medical conditions.

Remember:

A healthy lifestyle is the best detox. By focusing on a whole-food diet, staying hydrated, exercising regularly, managing stress, and getting enough sleep, you can support your body's natural detoxification process and feel your best from the inside out.

Don't fall prey to fad diets or expensive supplements that promise a quick fix. Sustainable, healthy habits are the key to long-term well-being.

Listen to your body. If you feel worse or experience any negative side effects while trying a detox method, discontinue it and consult with your doctor.

Taking Charge of Your Health

Taking charge of your health is an empowering journey. By focusing on healthy lifestyle choices, you can support your body's natural detoxification system and experience improved energy levels, better digestion, and a renewed sense of well-being. Remember, slow and steady wins the race when it comes to lasting health improvements. Embrace a holistic approach to well-being, prioritize self-care, and watch your body flourish.