#there were no wounds but the gums around the loose tooth was red

[tblsomedoodles]

. . . a brain geared towards body horror really would have a field day with the family web au (it's me). Bc like. If Raph already had red eyes I imagine the further mutation at maturation would be along the lines of like. Seeing through cloaking magic & Illusions maybe? Maybe he had a migrane for a while while that manifested. And the twins holy mackrel the possibilities. Perhaps one of their arms getting stuck on the bridge of one's shell in the growth process? That could hurt. And with Mikey's eyes I would wager another migrane, one that aches to the bone as his skull reconfigures (part of me wants to write a horror sequence where he wakes up after, not quite sure whats going on, eyes crusted over-with what he assumes is typical sleep crust. but growing 4 new eyelids cant be a bloodless process and head wounds of any sort bleed. Bad. And then someone sees him stumbling blindly to the bathroom, blood smeared all across his face, and screams bloody murder.) Adding if they assume that's all the changes that will occur, Mikey having a simple cough, an aching throat that turns into a mess of built up web and the retching and heaving ribs because he doesn't realize there's something caught, doesn't know what to do or how to loose it

. . . . . . I adore all the fluff but I'm built for horror

Oh definitely, especially early on in the fic like this. (This is pretty much were i'm starting it since it's kind of shifted from a 'sad alternate backstory' fic to a 'solving mysteries about sad alternate backstory' fic.)

I Really like Raph's eyes not just changing color but having a little extra ability with it. Especially if they end up seeing things like Donnie's goggles do, but he doesn't notice immediately. Like it's Raph. I love the kid but he'd probably go around for a week just assuming that there was a sudden influx of yokai not wearing cloaking broaches lol.

(putting in a break b/c it's kinda long and body horror stuff) (just more developing spider traits stuff)

Honestly, the whole thing starts out pretty slow. Like Raph has some itchy eyes that no amount of sleep or eye drops will make stop. Mikey starts out with just some headaches. Donnie's side ache but not enough to be a problem (just enough that Leo tells him he should take a break from his battle shell until it's better.) Leo's the last one to start developing anything for various reasons.

But yeah, they don't really notice anythings wrong until they wake up one morning to find that Donnie's sides hurt so bad that he can't move away from his desk. And those arms coming in, hurt. Especially at the start. As far as Leo and Donnie are concerned, they still have the tiny bit of development those extra arms accomplished from before mutation. (basically just quarter sized bumps on their sides hidden under the bits of shell on their sides. they are well aware they're there and can feel if their there by touching them but it's not viable.) So when they begin developing again, the will-be arms have to force their way through that bit of shell first, kind of like how a tooth grows in through gums. And that's the most painful part of that process. That's what makes Donnie basically unable to move and Raph so concerned that he all but drags Leo out of bed to look at him. (b/c Medic Leo is my jam lol)

Raph, i think would mostly deal with some aches and burning sensations on (or behind) his eyes as his fully develop. Maybe a migraine with heightened light sensitivity so Leo tells him to stay in his room with the lights off.

And you're so right about Mikey! i feel so bad for him now! B/c those headaches would just get worse, and turn to bad migraines that feel like his skull is splitting apart. Eyes can't develop without a spot to develop, so spots would open up for them and, as you said, head wounds bleed a lot so yeah. Poor Raph would just see Mikey and just panic. And i imagine Leo's just starting his own arm development, but regardless of whatever pain he's in, he bolts out of bed b/c Raph screaming at 4am cannot be good. (and with the way things have been going with their mutations, someone probably developed a third eye or something. Scratch that, a third, fourth, fifth, and sixth eye.) But that's not it for Mikey, b/c he's developing webs too and oh that poor kid.

but yeah, early on when it's all developing, is most certainly very rough for the boys. It's painful, and scary, and they're just so confused. (and Leo's just trying to medic everyone while no experience in this or have any good idea of what's going.)

Thank you! This was really cool! Especially since it's dealing with the fic content i'm actively working on. : ) Very helpful, thanks again!

#asks #tmnt #rottmnt #family web au #body horror #i guess #but yeah #if you want to write that go right ahead #i'm mostly sticking to Leo's pov for my fic #(with the occasional deviation to Donnies for Web shenanigans (TM)) #So seeing Mikey's would be cool

[chimpukampu]

He was high as a kite lol

#tooth extraction #his upper right minor tooth went loose when he roughhoused Charlie at 2am #and his mouth bled so we thought he bit Charlie #but Charlie was fine #and Peanut was clawing something in his mouth so I coned him immediately then checked his mouth if Charlie bit him #there were no wounds but the gums around the loose tooth was red #he stopped bleeding after I put the cone collar #Vet had to sedate him coz he was snappy #but now he's fine #he can eat his dry food and drink water without problems #he even had zoomies with Charlie after he became normal #peanut #my dogs #ramblings #dogs of tumblr

[unwanted-animal]

Matt/Frank : T E E T H

Explicit. M/M.

Tags/CW: Teeth, Mouth Likely, Consensual Torture, Blood, Tooth Trauma, Dark, Romance, Don/sub, Rutting, Coming In Pants, Bloody Kisses, Please Do Not Let Matt Murdock Perform Oral Surgery On You

My gifts for @lovetincture for this year’s @daredevilexchange :D The prompt I chose to roll with was “Romantic Teeth Trauma”, and it lit a spark inside me! Which is why my gift is two moodboards, a playlist, AND a fic lol

AO3 for the playlist and Alt Text (will be live when the collection opens!)

“Are you sure about this, Frank?”

Matt crouched in front of the chair, head tilted to the side as he listened for any changes in Frank. His breathing. His heart rate. His tone. If there was any sign he wasn’t confident about his request, Matt planned to stop. Frank liked pain, sure, but this? This was beyond normal pain.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m sure, Red. Only you. Anyone else I wouldn’t think about it, but you? You get me. I, I trust you. Y’know?”

“And you want no anesthesia?”

“None.”

No change. Even breathing. Steady heart rate. Frank was out of his goddamn mind, letting a blind man cut out one of his teeth. The thought brought a smile to Matt’s lips. Frank was mad, but that madness, that dedication to seeing things through, that only endeared him to him. He patted Frank’s leg gently and stood up.

“Okay. Can you reach the tools, push them toward me? Please?”

The rattle of metal filled his senses, making the room feel full and featureless. Matt groaned and shook his head to clear the cloud stifling his ‘sight’. Once the tray stopped, his access to the space returned. Deep shades of red, sparked by changes in the environment, that let him see - in a sense.

His world on fire.

Frank burned brightly in his special sense. Rugged, body made of valleys and hills and broken roads, sound made him shine. And Frank? Frank shone the loudest when he screamed.

Matt placed one hand on the handle of the cart. The other hovered over the tools.

“Scalpel,” he said softly.

“Four inches to your left. Blade facing away from you.”

He followed Frank’s instructions and lifted the surgical knife from the cloth. It was cool in his grasp, the handle weighted and the blade light and sharp enough to cut through muscle and tendon. Matt let out a slow breath. His hands were steady — no tremor. No fear.

Just a blind man performing intimate oral surgery.

“Once I’m in your mouth you won’t be able to instruct me, so if there’s anything you need to say to me, Frank? Now’s the time.”

Something about Frank’s gaze, Matt could always feel . He stared at him now , and from the way his pulse quickened he knew it was affectionate. Tender. He’d seen that look once, when the sirens lit the graveyard after the Irish. That hangdog, loving look in Frank’s sad eyes turned to him now, and he was certain there was a hint of madness to it. Of thrill. Frank wanted this. Hell, it’d been his idea.

“Yeah. Yeah, I got somethin’. Yeah. Matt?”

“Yes?”

“Don’t fuck it up,” Frank teased. “I love you.”

Matt smirked.

“I know. Open up for me.”

Frank opened his mouth, as wide as he could. His wrists tugged against the handcuffs holding them to the legs of the chair, the rattle reassuring. Frank wouldn’t get out if the pain was too great, which meant Matt wouldn’t wind up with a fist in his face when he dug into the root. It was a precaution, sure, but he had to admit he liked Frank tied up.

At his mercy .

Matt slipped two fingers inside his waiting mouth and slid them along his tongue. Frank shuddered, gagging slightly as he pressed down. Drool pooled around his hand and ran down, down the curve of his chin, spattering on his bare chest. Matt felt the wetness and smiled down at Frank.

“I bet you can do better than that.”

He lifted the scalpel and guided his fingers up. Picking a molar was the hard part. Humming, Matt tapped between three of them, whispering that familiar mantra.

“One batch. Two batch. Penny and dime — Ah. This one.”

The back molar. One Frank wouldn’t even know was missing.

“Here we go, Frank.”

All he got was a huff of a growl in response.

Matt pressed the blade into the soft meat of Frank’s gum. Blood welled from the wound, mixing with the drool, and Matt wished he could see it. The ecstatic look of agony carved into Frank’s Roman features, the mess he made, the wild rush burning in his eyes… He cut again. Again. Tracing the tooth. Beneath him, Frank snarled and roared.

“That’s right. Like that. Make noise, nobody will hear you here. Nobody but me.”

His noise made it easier for Matt to see what he was doing. Vibrations traveled through his mouth, and the loose skin he sliced through swayed from side to side. Soon he had most of the tooth exposed, the gums cut and peeled back with careful - if amateur - care. Frank pulled against the cuffs and rocked the chair as his fingers touched the wound, but Matt didn’t stop.

Frank had had plenty of time to revoke consent before. He didn’t. His fingers weren’t tapping out his safeword on the wood. Frank loved being out of control, submitting to Matt in such a deep, intimate way. Pain, even the extreme kind, wasn’t foreign to their relationship nor their sex.

This, this was dedication. A declaration. One far more beautiful than any other words or gestures could be.

Matt used Frank’s moans to find the forceps. He traded out his scalpel for the pointed steel, clicking them together a few times as Frank simply sat there shaking. His lips trembled, but he kept his mouth open to the cool air.

A good dog. Loyal. Obedient.

He guided the new tool inside, easily finding his way back. The blood dripping on his knuckles couldn’t be missed. Matt’s forceps closed around the tooth and he began to pry. Grunting, he pumped his arm, moving the bone in its tight little socket. Frank roared in pain, hips coming up and rubbing against Matt’s thigh.

He was hard, hard enough that the brief touch sent a shiver down Frank’s spine. Matt grinned, his dimples deep as he pressed his thigh back in response.

“Rut. Like a dog. I wouldn’t want to leave you all worked up, not when you’re behaving for me. Go on. Consider it a reward. A treat, Frank.”

Frank didn’t hesitate. He started thrusting against Matt, breathing hard through his nose as his cock strained against his jeans. A low moan vibrated in his throat as Matt yanked again, pulling, fighting to get the tooth free of his jaw. Frank screamed around his hands, tears flowing down his cheeks, and Matt’s world burst with vivid red color. He could see Frank. See the blood. See the wide-eyed and hungry stare Frank fixed on him. He was a beacon at the center of Matt’s world, pulsing with every shuddering sob.

“Beautiful,” he said, voice low and soft. “You make the world so beautiful .”

A loud crack split the air. Another. Another, as Matt leveraged his strength to force it out. With one last tug it snapped free of Frank’s jaw, clutched firmly in the forceps. Frank slammed his hips forward as he came, eyes rolling back in his head as that final surge of pain pushed him over the edge. Matt stumbled backward and held the tooth up triumphantly. His prize. His token.

While Frank’s sounds grew quiet, Matt’s vision faded back to darkness. He couldn’t see the sloppy smile on Frank’s face as he drooled blood onto his bare chest.

“… That,” Frank slurred, barely able to move his jaw. His words were mumbled, accompanied by dribbling blood. “Is yours. Yeah. Gonna take it to, to, to your guy. Drill a hole, get a chain. Wear it. Always.”

Matt released the tooth into his hand and ran his bloody thumb over the bone.

Frank’s bone.

A piece of him, to keep forever.

“… I love you, Frank. You know that?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I know. I, I love you too.”

He slipped the tooth into his pocket and lowered himself down on Frank’s filthy lap. His hands were just as messy, bloodied up almost to the elbow from Frank’s coughing and screaming. He slid one through Frank’s curls and tugged him into a rough, heated kiss. Blood filled his mouth, and Matt let it. He savored the taste of Frank. It was no different from kissing him with a split lip.

Except this time he could swallow the mess.

#fratt #Frank castle #Matt Murdock #pundevil #punisher #daredevil #ddexchange #Daredevilexchange

[nny11writes]

Hey friend! What better way to show our love for characters than through some good old whump?

“Just move your hands for a minute, please, ______, I can’t help you if you won’t let me see what’s wrong!” +glitra

How dare you. In exchange for being such an enabler with such a cruel and delightful whump prompt I have decided to give you your whumpage. This may be the most classically all hurt no comfort things I’ve ever written.

TRIGGER WARNING: Blood, injury, abdominal injury, implied character death (open for interpretation but vague enough). Graphic depictions of violence and injury.

Please excuse any obvious errors. Lost the ability to blink my eye half way through and was a bit distracted by the blurry pain tearing up part of that, but also fucking obsessed and needing to get this one out on the page like ASAP. (Don’t worry I did take care of it best I could but once you notice that it kinda distracts. Dry eye pain is a jerk and should meet me outside the school at 3PM for an ass kicking.)

Also, uh, happy early B-Day Glimmer?????? I’m so sorry??????????????

It’s not hard to find her once Catra takes every last emotion still left in her wrung out body and shoves it down and away. Deep deep down. It’s relieving. Like pulling a loose tooth out, the feeling of it as it’s finally freed from the gums, the satisfying squelch that comes right before the pressure disappears. It’s painful and disgusting and addicting. And it helps settle her heart enough to think.

The attack was unexpected for sure, and this far away from Etheria Glimmer’s powers were severely limited.

Adora and Bow are helping the surviving civilians that got caught up in the battle. Battle, ha. Ambush. Catra breathes deeper and closes her eyes, lets her hearing and smell guide her. Because they don’t know where Glimmer is, and if the queen had her magic she’d be there helping too.

On the Velvet Gauntlet, Catra saved her for more than just Adora. Trapped on that ship, back to back and trying to stay sane she’d come to a realization. Glimmer was everything that Catra was not, every part of her that could have possibly been good or useful or right bundled together into hope and fire and a warm kindness that felt white hot against her chest. 

“Why are you saving me!?”

Because you’re worth it. Because you’re amazing. Because you have so much left to live for. Because I would rather die than let them break you.

“Not you.” It’s one of the biggest lies she’s ever told in her life. “Adora.”

Her eyes snap open as she finally gets a scent. Glimmer. Blood. Lots of blood.

Catra isn’t even thinking as she drops to all fours, claws digging into the dirt and clay to give her purchase. Careless of the grooves she leaves behind, ignoring the cries for help from others as she passes, and certainly uncaring of her own injuries. She catches the sudden change in direction a hair too late, skidding sideways into a half destroyed wall before managing to dig into the ground again.

Only to pull up short.

Thank the moons, thank the stars, thank everything!

She has to learn to stop being hopeful someday. As she finally gets close enough to see that it’s not just the green blood of clones but the red of etherian. To finally notice the weak way that Glimmer is shuddering and twisting, curled around herself tightly with ragged breath. 

Catra forces herself to slow down, to keep the emotions down. Lock it up.

“Glimmer, where?” 

Hazy through the pain, two pink eyes glance up at her and Glimmer doesn’t even try to smile. Tears roll down her face and she clutches at her stomach. Catra drops to her side, reacting to see but Glimmer gasps and tries to wiggle away. It’s involuntary, Catra knows that, maybe better than most. How many times did her squad reach out to help her after another round of it with Shadow Weaver? How many times did she hiss and bite and struggle when what she needed more than anything else was their help.

“Hey! I can’t help you if you don’t let me.” Catra growls all the same, the box shaking inside of her before she slows her heart rate again. Quickly dragging her fingers through her hair, the scratching and tugging helping her focus again. But reaching in doesn’t help, Glimmer looks panicked, lashing out as best she can with weakened kicks. Ironically in some ways, Catra has to withdraw when Glimmer bites her with a snarl. “SPARKLES!”

It’s a light switch. Glimmer finally stops struggling, and instead squints up at her. “C-Catra?”

“Yeah, yeah, it’s me. I need to-” She’s barely motioned again to the injury when Glimmer gasps and curls tighter. 

“No!”

“Don’t be an idiot!” The box rattles again when Glimmer stares at her as if the last few years never happened. She’s shaking. They are wasting time. “You need to- I need...just. Move your hands for a minute, please, Glimmer, I can’t help if you won’t let me see what’s wrong!”

Glimmer doesn’t move her hands, but she stops fighting when Catra reaches again. It’s not as big as Catra feared, but it certainly isn’t good either. A patch a bit larger than her fist is missing skin and fat, there something small and tube like poking out amidst the missing flesh. The bleeding is mostly from the other side. Explosion? Ballistic? Glimmer’s left side has a wound too, a clear cut exit wound that was hidden by her body.

Catra can feel the terrified purring kicking in as she scrambles to rip Glimmer’s cape into a half assed bandage. She rips off her own shirt to have more fabric. She’d rip of her own fucking skin if it would help. Strip by strip if she could use it to heal.

But she can’t, and she isn’t a medic, and she can’t save her this time. She can’t save her from this.

“I’m going to pick you up, we need to get to Adora.” It’s not up for debate, just a statement of facts as Catra hauls Glimmer into her arms. Her ribs scream and her back must be on fire but it doesn’t matter. “Hang on.”

“Yup,” Glimmer wheezes, obviously trying to be light hearted as she can.

Catra doesn’t even remember running back. Not really. She remembers checking in on Glimmer what felt like every few seconds. She remembers almost tripping on a body. But her focus is on the amazing woman in her arms. She barely even remembers passing Glimmer over into Adora’s hands, white magic pouring from She-Ra’s infinite well into their friend. 

“You don’t understand!”

“Well enlighten me!”

They stand almost nose to nose, both huffing and nearly panting after shouting at one another.

“YOU WERE DEAD CATRA!” 

The fight is sucked right out of her. “...yeah, I was.”

“Shut up, shut up! You were dead and it was my fault!” Glimmer is an ugly crier. Her face gets blotchy and her nose runs like a fountain. Somehow that’s so much worse than if she’d shed a single tear, because it’s for her.

“It wasn’t-”

But Glimmer grabs her and hauls her in roughly. The kiss is intense and lightning fast before Glimmer is hiccupping into her neck. “It was, it was, it was. And-and-and you wouldn’t have known, Catra! It hurt to see you like that, I never, ever want to see that again, okay!? So STOP trying to throw it all away!”

At the time she’d been too stunned to really think it through. But here, now, watching with bated breath and Glimmer’s heart stops even as She-Ra’s magic becomes blinding...she gets it.

Bow’s hand is on her shoulder, both having to turn away from the light, when Catra finally puts a name to it. That feeling she had when Glimmer had kissed her, the drop in her stomach when she’d found her. The box tumbles out and bursts open on the ground.

I love her, I love her, I love her, I love her, I love her, I love her, I love her, I love her.

I can’t lose her. I can’t!

But really, when has what she wanted ever mattered?

#she ra #spop #glimmer #catra #glitra #WHUMP #ALL HURT NO COMFORT #cw: blood #cw: injury #cw: implied death #ending open to interpretation but the warning is there for those who need it #fanfiction #fanfic #this just in local trash cat finally realizes that she's in love with An Actual Queen but only when she's possibly going to die #Catra is not so good with the emotions thing #Glimmer sweetie I am so sorry I did this to you #on your birthday no less #Me: Happy birthday biiiiiiitch #Glimmer (rightfully: So You Just Gon' Bring Me a Birthday Gift on My Birthday to My Birthday Party on My Birthday with a Birthday Gift? #Me:...happy birthday? #Me: *Is Sparkle Punched and gets to listen to Catra complain that she didn't get a shot in* #bobkitten

[lypoextract-blog]

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[dunmerofskyrim]

70

Simra burst up to stand from the snowbank, the wand in his smarting right hand. Body-warm, boot-warm metal. He judged ten paces between them. Him and Llolamae and the red-painted strangers. In this cold, hand hurting, fighting against three, the wand would serve him better than a sword.

Two had spears. Long lances of age-smoothed wood and barbed at their tips with pale-yellow bone. They circled Llolamae. Something of the hunter in their gaits, knee-bowed and spry and careful, patient and watchful, stepping smooth. But their red hands shifted uneasy on their spears, and their backs hunched them forward, looking at her, catching sight of Simra, pulled eitherway and taut in the neitherness of it.

The third of them was empty-handed and wore his painted skin slack and tight by turns across his bones. Older, a leader like as not, and maybe with magic to him — enough that he could go unarmed and seem a deal surer, less vulnerable than the younger mer. They looked to him, heads snapping round and back. They paced and fretted like hunting hounds not given the go. In a glance, Simra could tell it was the older mer who held their leash and muzzled their teeth and could set them loose in a moment.

Behind them all, a spurlike ridge of snow and stone that ran to rise into a higher hillside. A spindly tangle of scrub clung to the slope, murmuring in the wind and clodden with white. A jagged horizon, broken with passes and gullies, and crested in frost-chased black rock.

Ache of wind in Simra's ears and the ache of breath in his chest, short from wresting his way up the slope. Half-crouched like he was ready to spring or run, Simra leveled the wand at them, arm outstretched. Felt sweat tease a line down his back, pulling his focus. Always bothered him worse than in warmth, to sweat when the weather was cold. A waste.

“Let her go!” he called above the breeze, speaking Velothis. Ashlanders, she'd said, and they'd come as if by speaking she'd summoned them.

One of the spearmen, hair close-cropped to a shadow of stubble, jerked his head to look again at Simra. Wavered his point in the air towards him, away from Llolamae. The other, with a knot-and-ropey scar puckering the skin of his belly and low chest, cast eyes to the elder, questioning, but kept his spearhead trained.

“Let her go you dirt, you worse-than-dirt, or I'm warning you...” Simra aimed the wand from one spearman to the other, thinking hard. He was afraid. For Llolamae, for himself, for himself more and more. A wide-thrown net of panic, closing and tightening round him till he could feel it score and checker his insides.

The stubble-headed spearman peeled away from the others, weapon angled full towards Simra now as he approached. The scar-bellied mer spoke after him, softer than Simra had expected. Too quiet and half-stolen by the wind to tell if it they were words he recognised, but the tone gave warning, urged caution. No knowing if they understood him either. The fear shrilled up at that mute helplessness. It set his teeth on edge; scared him single-minded; took the corners from his vision. He'd make them understand.

A ribbed shudder of sound. The wand bucked in Simra's hand as he joined the runes on its handle. A bolt of seething twisting air struck out from it and scourged the snow between the nearer spearman's feet. A flurry of white and waterspray, dirt and grit as it warped the ground. A warning shot. The echo of it cracked around them, sounding to the hillside and coming back like the creaking voice of a glacier.

“Understand now?” Simra shouted, heart pounding. Six strides left between them. Almost nothing to a man with a spear in his hands.

But the spearman stopped. An uneasy pause, testing his weight from one foot to the other.

“I want to talk,” Simra warned him. “Why don't you talk?”

The spear moved. His grip changed, shifting to bring it overhand from under. He was making to throw.

Simra reacted. Hard to miss at this distance. Not hard to kill, even. Just a twitch of the fingers to follow the eye. With a sick lurch he pulled himself back from the brink of that ease and aimed down. In the span of that same rippling sound, that same tangling of space, the spearman half-turned and fell sidelong into the snow. His step staggered and collapsed under him, the leg gone twisted and weak at the thigh, with a cry more surprise than pain. Simra was already skirting round, forging away from the fallen mer, raising the wand again to train it on the other two ashlanders. One casting left in it, and that if he was lucky. Not that they'd know it. Not that they had any way to know.

“This isn't a fucking dagger I'm pointing at you!” Simra snarled above the wind. “You raise a hand to her or me, you get the same as him.” He nodded at the collapsed spearman. He was struggling now to rise. “Worse than him maybe. Him, I showed mercy.” Small mercy, Simra thought, giving the fallen mer the corner of his eye. He was clutching at his thigh, wide-eyed, where the flesh was warped. “One wrong step and you're maimed at the least. Not like I want to kill you both, but the point is that I could before you so much as bared your teeth at me. So…step away from the girl.”

Far more confidence mustered in those words than Simra felt behind his grit teeth and strident voice, and far too much staked on their understanding. He could have killed them soon as he saw them. Made an ambush of it. Gone cold, put them down in shock and silence, and carried on to let the snow cover them and Spring find them. Why hadn't he?

But the other two mer edged away from Llolamae. The other spearpoint turned skyward and the scarred spearman leaned on its shaft. The elder held out his palms to Simra, empty, immobile — not that it would make much for minding if there were magic in him.

A breath hissed out between Simra's teeth, almost a laugh. It'd worked. Long odds, but his luck had held for now. He didn't lower the wand, but it rested in his fingers a little.

“What did you say to them?” Llolamae asked, half-turning her head to him but staying rooted. "What did you do to him?" Fear made her voice run, still fast and tight, and her eyes jumped in her head. Simra, spear and spearman. Elder, the spear that the shaven-headed mer had dropped in falling. “Don't ease up now! They're still dangerous! Have you not just given them cause to hate you more now?”

“Someone can hate something plenty and know it's still stone-stupid to move against it,” Simra said, then changed to Velothis again, walking careful strides towards the two red-painted mer. “Do you understand me? You understood anything of what I've said?”

“We hear your sense,” said the elder. “But not all of how you speak it.” His speech was a flint-stiff kind of Velothis. Old, closest to how Noor spoke when storying, or when she was at her most self-righteous, but leaning deeper into that wide formality. Compared with the Morayat's patois, or what went between Simra and Tammunei, it seemed stagnant and brittle and clumsy. Almost bad play-acting.

“Then let's speak,” Simra said. “I'll go slow. You're Velothi?”

“Kogaru,” answered the standing spearman, eyes fixed hard and searching on Simra. His nose was broken and crooked low across its bridge, his eyes small and hooded and sharp.

“What are you, to speak a cut of our tongue?” the elder said.

Simra thought a moment. “Zainab.”

“So there still are Zainab?” The elder raised his brows; clucked with his tongue.

A small flicker of rage — the kind that comes when ignorance is threatened by unwelcome truth. A bar of colour flushed across Simra's nose and cheeks. A flicker of rage and underneath that a fear at what he'd said. “I'm here aren't I?” he shrugged, but the words came out pointed. “And you? Where do you camp from here?”

“You want to know where we sleep? Where our children play and learn and are loved and learn to love safety?” The elder bristled. He gestured in the air and Simra's fingers twitched over the runes on the wand, ready to strike him down if he called magic or moved against either him or Llolamae. “Why would I tell this to an outsider?”

“Because you're the one on my leash, not the other way round, and you'd do well to remember it. Because we came here to find you. To talk, ask questions, nothing worse. It was your kin there that moved to hurt me even past my warning, and it was me that stayed my hand when I could've stopped his heart. Twisted it full of bones and smothered it in his own skin. But I spared him – chose to spare him – and ghosts and bones I'll even carry him for you if I have to! That's if you'll believe I mean no more harm and take me to where your hearths are lit and your tents are pitched.”

The elder considered him. Looked him up and down across the strides between them. Simra, cold and haggard, clothed for Autumn and ill-prepared for the island, the season, the weather. Snow gone all to melt, staining his boots in saltmarks. The stiff outreach of his arm and his teeth ungrit now and starting to chatter. And all that next to the elder, wearing paint and near-nothing besides, and still seeming untouched by Winter. His nostrils flared and his eyes softened.

“If I bring you to our hearth, what is it you hope to find there?”

“I have questions. Looking for someone. An outsider like us. That's all.”

That struck something in the elder. Stung at him somehow. It showed just an instant in the sit of his face, but the tight-stretched skin of it shifted, twitched, and something showed in his eyes. Fear and then gone as he hid it, worked to hide it. And that said as much to Simra as the fear itself. There were secrets here, under the surface — maybe some of them even worth knowing.

“Follow,” the elder said. “You will return with us.”

The fallen spearman was sitting up, handling his wounded thigh. Grim curiosity showed in his face like a child picking at a skinned knee. Like a child loosening the gum round a tooth they were ready to lose. He was younger than Simra had let himself see at first. A youth with less than a score of Summers to him. Simra followed his wide unfocused eyes to the leg. There was no blood, no splintered bone, only flesh crudely folded on itself and bunched muscle inside. The spellstrike had been glancing. So much for small mercies, Simra thought. He'd given one greater than he'd meant to.

“Llola?” he beckoned her over and she hurried to his side, only now with her shoulders starting to shake. “And you,” he said to the other spearman. “Carry your kin.”

“You said—”

“I said if I have to. Turns out I didn't.” And he couldn’t keep watch on the others so well if he was straining to carry one. Better keep his weapons close and his pressed once-enemies less so. “He's not hurt bad. Not like he could be. He'll just be slow.”

"We will all be slow," the elder said, grave as prophecy. As if he weren't pointing out the bitter and blighted obvious.

#TES #Morrowind #Dunmer #Simra Hishkari #SH Forth and Back #SH New Canon

[raeliyah]

Exalted Secret Santa 2018

First, snippet -- with full descriptions, reference pictures, and links under the cut. Anon-asks should be enabled so feel free to ask me anything if you need more info!

If none of these guys strike your fancy, I also have the rest of my exalted characters, with reference images and descriptions, here:

https://refsheet.net/redkite7

Caleb “Wraithshot” Raith Dawn Caste Solar Exalt of the South, longrider lawman, Righteous Devil gunslinger, Badlands Gentleman with a heart of battered gold, giant flirt

Qismet ibn al-Nusar, The Veiled Eagle Night Caste Solar Exalt of the west, self-appointed judge and executioner of corrupt supernaturals, leader of the Brotherhood of the Righteous Death, terse and broody

Zaela Tokari, Queen of Adrelith, of the Meridian Isles Zenith Caste Solar Exalt of the East, friend of Dragon Kings, precious cinnamon roll, youngest daughter, too young to be queen, too young to be Exalted, mousy and self-effacing but will stand up to everything from Deathlords to Elder Lunars in defense of her friends (no art yet)

Caleb “Wraithshot” Raith

Dawn Caste Solar Exalt

Caleb’s Pinterest Inspiration Board

Caleb’s easy. Think of every western trope and smash them all together. He’s a cowboy bounty hunter; a self-proclaimed lawman in a land where there is no law, riding circuit on a handful of towns in the South he considers his and protecting them from whatever evils lurk in the desert.

Physical Description

Caleb stands at 5′11″ and is on the leaner side at ~185 lbs. He’s fit, like a brawler (been in significantly more than his fair share of bar fights) or a ranch hand - someone who works at hard physical labor most days.

Caleb looks like he’s in his early 30s

Being the son of Northern immigrants, Caleb’s complexion is mostly pale, a reddish-burned tan anywhere the sun would shine - arms to the elbows, back of the neck, face mostly.

He’s also freckly across his face, shoulders and upper back, mostly from sun.

His eyes are clear honey-colored brown, more gold towards the pupil from the influence of exaltation.

Hair is black at the roots, growing out into sun-streaked brownish blond. He usually keeps it cut pretty short but if it goes too long without a trim it gets curlier. He likes a clean-shaven face but given his lifestyle he’s pretty much always got a day or three of scruff.

Caleb… basically looks like Chris Pratt.

He’s always got a smile of some stripe - warm, mischievous, leering, insincerely-wide - something.

He’s also very mouthy, and usually has something to chew on, whether it’s a piece of straw, a match, a toothpick, a cigarette (50% chance of it actually being lit), a twig - something. He’s never met a lollipop or chewing gum but he would love them.

Scars, see reference image: He's got a fair few that have never healed all the way. Added to that a nose which was broken in some bar brawl and never healed straight.

Left arm, from wrist to elbow: long nearly parallel white lines.

The remnants of pressure cuts through his right eyebrow, right side of his lips, and the left side of his chin, leaving gaps in the scruff. 

A bullet-scar just above and to the left of his navel. 

The remains of various slashes and stabs decorate his ribs. Most of these fade to nothing quickly, but he’s in fights often enough there’s always something.

The upper portion of his back is a mess of scars look like they were left from him getting dragged quicklike backwards over rock (because he was). A stylized rattlesnake tattoo on his right shoulderblade is only half-seen through the scars. 

Caleb dresses in layers - shirt sleeves, a vest/waistcoat, and either a faded blue or red serape tossed over his shoulders or a brown longcoat. Pants are either canvas or faded denim, and boots are less cowboy-style and more combat- or motorcycle style with a heel for riding. He does wear spurs, but they’re blunted. He’s usually covered in trail dust and sweat, sometimes blood, despite efforts at cleanliness. Feel free to embellish the standard Cowboy gear with arabesque/middle eastern ornamentation, because it is Exalted…

He always carries two modified flame pieces (six-shooters… he’s got six-shooters) on his hips, and the belt’s buckle is large and obnoxious, mostly because he keeps a couple extra rounds of ammunition within it. He also has an artifact rifle (based on a Winchester M1873; lever action, but otherwise unspecified) named Medicine Man that is either slung across his back or is in a sheath on his horse’s saddle. He makes his own ammo for all his weapons. He is a student of Righteous Devil Style, having mastered up to the form charms, but his sifu disappeared and he’s not found another, nor is he skilled enough to pick it up without tutelage.

He does own chaps but whether or not he wears them on any given day depends on how hot it is and how much hard riding he’s anticipating. He has a hat he’s rather fond of, but it’s not anything truly special.

There may or may not be a bandana around his neck/on his person at any given moment, and he often wears a chip of blue crystal with an antelope petroglyph etched on it around his neck on a leather cord. It’s a token from his friend, a springs goddess named Rivela, and a reminder of a partner he lost.

He rides a buckskin warhorse named Dirt who he pretends not to be particularly attached to, but in fact he really really is. Dirt is his horse. Dirt adores him and is always trying to steal his hat. Dirt will also steal anyone else’s hat nearby, but he prefers Caleb’s.

Anima: Caleb’s anima banner is a hailstorm of bright burning metal, like large forge sparks, raining down on him and even appear to bounce off his skin and clothing. Golden smoke and flame rise from the ground at his feet wherever the sparks fall.

Full Description including Personality, History, Art, and links to Fic and Character Playlist Here.

Qismet ibn al-Nusar

Night Caste Solar Exalt Revenge-driven assassin, self-appointed judge jury and executioner of supernaturals who prey on innocents. Leader of a band of mortal assassins with the same motives.

Qismet's Pinterest Inspiration Board

Qismet's Character Playlist

Physical Description:

Qismet is shorter than average at 5'9" built lean and tough like an acrobat at around 150 lbs

he’s kinda touchy about his height

Qismet looks to be in his mid-to-late twenties.

He's darker complexioned, bronzed from a lot of time under the Western Sun

Examples: (Oded Fehr)(Cristian Codrin)(Avraham Aviv Alush)(Francisco Randez-also his face inspiration)

His hair is so dark brown it might as well be black, cut close but still has a bit of a wave to it.

Style example:(One)(Two)* Eyes are the same: so dark brown they might as well be black. Tend to go lighter, almost honey-colored, when he's channeling essence.

Qismet has fairly narrow features, a generous mouth with cupid's bow lips (see reference images) and a crooked nose, somewhat overlong. He would look great if he smiled but he hardly ever does. Eternal Brooding Face

Face Inspiration: Francisco Randez (One)(Two)(Three)(Four)

He has a thin blade scar vertically through his lips on the right side

Tattoos: One, on his right shoulder, the symbol of his assassin's order. Two, on his left bicep: a greenish kraken crossed out by two black swords (indicative of his vendetta against the Lintha).

Clothes and Accessories:

Qismet has two distinct "modes" -- his working guise, as The Veiled Eagle, equal parts vigilante super hero and feared villain, depending on who's looking, and his regular everyday self. The Veiled Eagle's identity is an open secret on his home island but if he's not in 'costume' the folk there know not to bother him as anything more than Qismet.

The Veiled Eagle:

As the Eagle, Qismet wears long open vests and tunics and leather armor (cuirass, pauldrons, greaves) in shades of charcoal to dove gray, with a hood and mask over his face, leaving only his eyes exposed, though the skin around them is usually darkened with greasepaint and charcoal. This outfit is patterned roughly after the Assassin's Creed styles. (Inspiration Images: (Mayan Armor)(Original AC Outfit)).

There is a single splash of blood red among the grays as a sash: normally wound around his waist or crossed from hip to shoulder.

Weaponry:

As the Eagle, Qismet also carries a lot of weapons. Most notable are his two artifact Moonsilver Bracers, the Eagle's Sheathed Talons. These artifacts are made of black siaka leather and covered with moonsilver filigreed plates making the shape of a mantling eagle. They extrude a long knife in combat and also serve as armor for his arms (they're basically Hidden Blades with Exalted flair).

He also wields the paired soul-steel short Daiklaves, Anguish and Agony (see reference image in refsheet.net gallery). He struck a deal with the spirits within when he took them from their former owner. They spend a night and a day of peace within a consecrated temple on the nights of moon dark every month, and in return he will never be chained by sorcery or necromancy until his Task is complete. If he fails to give them peace, they'll turn against him.

As Qismet:

When he's not 'working', Qismet tends towards sleeveless cross-front tunics and vests, loose-cut trousers and short fitted boots, thin-soled for good climbing. He still wears the red sash around his waist, knotted on one side, and always has the artifact bracers.

He tends towards cool, de-saturated colors (because they're cheap), but isn't picky: if it's free of obvious dirt and won't get in his way, he'll wear it. His lieutenant/lover Samira has been slowly stocking his wardrobe with nicer things since ostensibly he's an important figure in their region of the west and should occasionally look it. Really, have fun with clothing design.

He very occasionally wears a shark-tooth pendant, but he's not big on jewelry or adornment in general.

Anima:

A ghost-white and violet sea-eagle, whose head obscures Qismet’s face and whose movements echo the Solar’s. 

Further Reading:

The Eagle and the Marionettist

Infectious - Drabble, features several characters

Silver Sun Era - Storium Game

A History of the Brotherhood of the Righteous Death

Zaela Tokari, Solar Queen

Zenith Caste Solar Exalted - Mousy former-Princess given Divine Power - Too Precious for this world - Too young to be Queen and feels it 

Zaela’s Pinterest Board

Physical Description

Slim and willowy at 5′4″ish and 120lbs-ish - built like a dancer or musician

Medium-brown hair at the roots and lower layers, bleached gold by sun (and anima) light, with those instagram beach-style waves. Comes down to about her shoulderblades

Turquoise eyes, that fade to nearly white when she channels essence

Heart-shaped face with expressive eyes

Her complexion is tan with a bit of a copper tone to it

She exalted at 17 and still looks it

Zaela wears draping gowns in vaguely greek or ancient egyptian-esque fashion, in cool greens and blues and golds and white, accented with delicate jewelry wrought from gold and gems and flowers (natural or artificial). They are usually of light materials, silk,mist linen, and brushed cotton, suited for her jungle island kingdom. 

She usually wears her hair in multiple loose braids, or half-up and adorned with tropical flowers (or whatever’s in season, if she’s travelling far from her home Isle). Nothing in her appearance would mark her as anything other than the favored daughter of a well-off family, but she does on occasion wear the orichalcum, white, and green jade lotus crown of her kingdom. It’s a little too ostentatious for her tastes. 

Anima:

A flock of tropical birds, in jewel tones limned with gold, who spiral and swirl around her. 

Fun Fact:

The ghost of her former shardholder, Prismatic Lotus, used to reside in their royal family chapel, trapped there during the Usurpation. Lotus fled to safe harbor within Zaela when the chapel was attacked and Zaela exalted--she now carries the spirit of her ancestress with her. Lotus acts as mentor, guide, sometime-posessor and obnoxious First Age brat in turn. But mostly she is helpful. 

tagging @shiftingpath for secret santa organizational purposes -- thank you for all the work you put in to this every year; I very much appreciate it! and you!  I will probably be editing this to make sure all the links are working properly and everything’s formatted correctly so apologies in advance

#exalted #exalted rpg #exalted secret santa #exalted secret santa 2018 #shiftingpath #my characters #I really need to make one up for Fiera on Refsheet too #next time #six is certainly sufficient options right #oh gosh and Senka #who else am I missing

[knockdiabetes]

Diabetes Gum Disease & Dental Problem – Symptoms & Prevention

Diabetes Mellitus is a metabolic disease in which the person has high blood glucose either due to insufficient insulin production or because the body’s cells do not respond properly to insulin. The diabetes are bifurcated into two

types:

Type 1 diabetes:- It is a chronic condition in which the pancreas produces either some or no insulin.

Type 2 diabetes:- It is a chronic condition which affects the way the body processes blood sugar

Statistics of diabetes prevailing Worldwide

When it comes to the Statistics of diabetes, then alarming facts come forth. In India, the population is 29.1 million which is second highest after China.

According to WHO estimates, the total global diabetic population in the year

2000 stood at 171,000,000 which is estimated to rise to an alarming number- 366,000,000.

And when we talk about India, an estimated 31,705,000 diabetics exists in the millennium year which is expected to grow by over 100% to 79,441,000 by 2030. According to the International Diabetes Federation the estimates depict that diabetes prevalence has doubled and has grown by over 100% in the past 15 years. Certain cautions can help in preventing the diabetic patients increasing in number.

Why people with having Diabetes are more vulnerable to Diabetes Gum Disease?

People have more small bacteria living in their mouth. And if they rise in number in gums, they lead to diabetes gum disease. This Chronic disease can destroy gums, tissues holding teeth and even bones.

Now, this problem is more common in the people having diabetes. It affects around nearly 22% of those diagnosed. With growing age, blood sugar control becomes difficult which increases risk of gum problems. And with infections, serious diabetes gum disease can even cause blood sugar to rise. This makes diabetes difficult to control as one gets more vulnerable to infections and is less able to fight the bacteria invading the gums.

How can diabetes affect mouth?

If diabetes is left untreated, then it can adversely affect mouth.

There is possibility of creation of less saliva which causes the mouth to dry. Saliva protects teeth, There is also possibility of bleeding gums. Also one can experience delayed wound healing leading to infections inside mouth.

Symptoms of Diabetes Gum Disease and Diabetes Dental Problems.

The most common dental problems that affects people with diabetes is Periodontal disease People suffering from diabetes are at a higher risk for diabetes gum diseases because of lack of blood sugar control. Serious diabetes gum diseases may aggravate the problem of diabetes.

 Here are the well known symptoms of Diabetes Gum Disease and Dental Problems:

Red, swollen, and bleeding gums.

Gums that have pulled away from the teeth.

Long-lasting infection between the teeth and     gums.

Breath that doesn’t go away.

Permanent teeth those are loose or     moving away from one another.

Many kinds of bacteria increase on sugars which includes glucose — the sugar linked to diabetes. When diabetes is poorly controlled, high glucose levels in mouth fluids may help germs to grow and set the stage for gum disease.

Here is How Your Dentist Can Help You?

Regular dental checkup is important. It helps to get prevention of occurrence of dental problems at an early stage.

Treating gum disease helps to improve blood sugar control in patients living with diabetes which helps in controlling the progression of this disease. Also good oral hygiene is important and also professional cleaning by is done by dentist help

Diabetes Dental Health Action Plan

First control blood sugar levels. Use healthy diet and exercise to help for controlling diabetes. Right amount of blood sugar helps to fight bacterial or fungal infections in mouth helping to provide relieve to dry mouth caused by diabetes.

Avoid smoking.

Clean denture every day.

Brush teeth twice a day.

Also see dentist for regular checkups.

Tips for Healthy Mouth

Oral health i.e. brushing and rinsing      needs to be done.  Say good-bye to cigarettes.

Sugar is a main culprit in tooth decay. It     increases bacteria and acidity in mouth which leads to formation of     plaque. This eats away the enamels and gums.

Right toothbrush. A brush with soft bristles     should be used. This brush used with the right technique should last out     for two to three months.

Practice proper technique. Hold the brush at a 45-degree     angle, which point towards the gum line. Then use gentle, short, circular     motions. Brush each tooth 10 to 15 times

In a recent study; it is found that The Average Lifetime Cost of Treating Diabetes Complications runs up to about ₹ 50,00,000…

The best way to over come diabetes & its complications is by correcting our lifestyle, eating habits & treating diabetes from its root with proper herbal supplements… 

In short, By Rejuvenating Pancreatic Beta Cells to Produce Insulin Naturally and Increase Uptake of Insulin by Our Body Cells

Drawing on its extensive experience in the field, Sushruth Ayurved Industries brings you the natural herbal supplement Sugar Knocker, a combination of eleven herbal extracts at its purest form that have been used for many years in traditional Indian Ayurvedic medicine.

Sugar Knocker not only focuses on controlling sugar level but also starts working on a root cause of diabetes. In short it gives permanent solution by removing problem from root and not temporary by controlling sugar level.

Let YOUR DIABETES MANAGEMENT Effort Give A FRUITFUL RESULT, Put Your Small Step Towards a Diabetic-Free Life just like Vasudevan Nayar!!!

Vasudevan Nayar from New Delhi, age 71, had a history of diabetes but had been controlling it for 20 years with allopathic pills. Then his sugar level was getting high and finally he was landed to insulin intake. Vasudevan also had to start giving himself insulin shots with high dosage. The frequent testing and insulin injections turned his world upside down.

One Day he came across “Sugar Knocker”. With help of Sugar Knocker by Following Diet, and Doing Physical Activities, he was able to normalize the blood sugar level.

Sugar Knocker played a important role in his success. He said,"I came across a wonderful ayurvedic product Sugar Knocker, I took it for 3 months and my sugar levels were normalized. It is a safe and good sugar lowering product one can depend on..." 

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#blood sugar levels #control diabetes #dr bm hegde #natural treatment #diabetes treatment #ayurvedic herbs #herbal medicine for diabetes #natural medicine #ayurveda for diabetes #sugar knocker #ayurvedic medicine for diabetes

[katsbywrites]

Joy Ride

The road was dark and abandoned; a twisted silver snake that wound through the barren sands of a moonlit desert.

 She hadn’t thought to encounter anyone this far out in the wastes. Of course, she had already been proven wrong about that once but she had thought that meeting something like divine providence, a mere karmic fluke, the exception to the rule, until the sand and asphalt burned wildly blue and red, a cheery patriotic scene with the bone white moon looking down.

 Before she thought over her decision, she was pulling over. It was unnecessary to do so on this lonely two lane highway but she did it without thinking, kicking up a cloud of sand and rock behind her. Her hands moved in swift circles to turn the big leather wrapped wheel before drifting down to stroke the thing in her lap. If she were really honest, she would admit it was the head of the former owner of the vehicle. She knew that, she understood that, and yet, when she was not focused on that fact, her mind imagined there was a large tom cat perched on her lap. Desert heat and fur explained the wet, sticky heat in her lap, not the leaking stump of a head that stained her tan skin and seeped into the white cotton of her panties.

 She hummed and tapped her feet, pulling down the visor to check her makeup. If there had been any makeup on her before, it was gone now but she was pretty in a feral sort of way. She wondered if her cheekbones were always so very high and her chin so narrow and pointed; had her eyes always had that strange golden tinge or was that just the halo of light that surrounded the beat up old beamer? It didn’t matter. She frowned at the lack of eyeliner and at the snarling dark curls around her slender neck and shoulders. She shook them back and rubbed her mouth. How the hell could she have missed her lips so thoroughly when putting on lipstick? Undoubtedly high, she thought with a broad smile as she snapped the visor back up.

 The cop was taking a good long time about walking up and so she occupied her hands with stroking the pale, matted tufts of hair on the top of the head in her lap; she was sure that the warm skin purred under her hand and she was comforted by it even if it was just a head. Her mind was shuttling quickly and she let it, leaning back in the warm leather, dangling a hand haphazardously out of the open window as she waited. That action seemed to prompt the cop to move; she seemed to think she felt the pressure of the door open before she heard it but that was probably whatever drug she was on talking.

 “Ma’am, are you alright?”

 She giggled, “Well that’s a fuck of a question,” she told the head bobbing in her crotch. “I feel right as rain,” she replied more loudly.

 Crunch, crunch went the gravel. Swish, swish went his fat thighs in their synthetic fiber casing. Jangle, jangle went the keys on his belt loop.

 It must have been that southern male bravado that had him approaching the car. She didn’t think this until years later because she was too fucked up at the time, but that had to be the only explanation for a man to be approaching a car door with a bloody-handed, giggling lunatic behind the wheel. It must have been the skinny arm and soft, feminine voice that made him feel comfortable enough with coming up to chat over something as benign as a busted taillight.

 She shifted to watch his approach, the head tumbling out of her lap. “Oops,” she said, trying to smother the latest giggle but the sight of the pudgy patrolman only made it that much harder as did the strange tickle in the roots of her teeth.

 “Ma’am, did you know that your taillight is out?”

 Crazed black and gold eye looked up at him from the dark interior. “Is it? I hadn’t noticed at all. That’s certainly unsafe,” she said, thoughtfully eyeing the thickness of his neck.

 “Yes ma’am, that’s why I pulled you over.”

 No shit Gomer, she thought, scratching her cheek. Of course, it wasn’t her cheek that was itching. It was her teeth or the roots of them. For a moment, she vividly remembered losing her front teeth as a child. She remembered her mother telling her to keep her tongue out of the dark little pits where her teeth should be or the new teeth would come out crooked. She didn’t listen to that bit of advice but instead found her tongue squirming into the empty space, the pointed tip burrowing into the pulpy pit of bloody nerves; she remembered the metallic taste and the soft, sucking feeling as her tongue popped out. It was a pleasant sort of recollection that made her stomach flutter.

 The memory faded into the concerned face of the patrolman. “I’m sorry, did you say something?”

 What he had said was that she looked unwell and had she taken anything that night he ought to know about. The thousand mile stare had confirmed his suspicion that she was high as a kite. “Would you please step out of the vehicle ma’am?”

 She seemed to consider this for a moment. The patrolman was unfortunately unaware that the tickle had gone from itch to throb. Her hand went to the door and she let herself out, tottering for a moment before straightening and smoothing the short paisley sundress.

 “Shit,” he murmured.

 Even then he had not gone for his gun, probably because he could not see the dismembered head on the floorboard, mostly because she looked barely legal, was perhaps one-ten soaking wet and most of that he would wager was weight from her knee length hair. He assumed that the dried stains on her neck might be from a nosebleed – maybe too much coke – but the blood in her lap... she must have been so high as to not feel whatever injury was causing that bleed. Her eyes were so wild and so far away, he believed that was true even though his instinct was to run; all she believed was that her teeth were filled with hornet or ants and that teeth grinding did not help.

 “Why don’t you let me take you in,” he said, easing handcuffs from his belt. “Let you clean up and get some sleep.”

 She was nodding and teeth grinding, scratching her cheek. She was unbearably hot and could not stand the sticky wetness at her crotch. “Clean sounds good,” she found herself saying as her hands slipped up her thighs, looping around her hips, and sliding the fabric down.

 The cop had not been expecting some drugged out nymph to begin stripping to the strobing police lights out in the middle of the desert. He flushed and tried to grab her hands but it seemed that instead of grabbing her hands, he grabbed her hips and she giggled. Her breath smelled sour and metallic but her skin was taut and cool beneath his touch. When she pressed closer, he wondered if this were his lucky night though his nerves screamed that he run. His face buried in the curls of her hair – it was like being embraced by the night with a hint of menthol.

 This close, the itching turned from painful to the far edge between pain and pleasure – it hurt her in a way she hadn’t ever considered wanting but desperately did. He was large and warm and slow; she had the feeling that he was a generic, bumbling sort of man that was possessed of little brains or bronze but a superman complex none the less. Her teeth ached and her stomach rumbled and when he was this close she understood what she needed from him.

 When her teeth sunk into his neck, he struggled against her loose grip but he couldn’t move away. She drank in greedy gulps until she grew too hot to have his bulk pressed to closely to her; the throb in her mouth was a low level buzz now and her mind hummed. He ran when she released him, not yet drained enough to fall to the ground, too panicked to reach for his sidearm. Her mouth was a dripping red ruin slashed across her face in a smile; her eyes followed him as he ran towards her cruiser. She couldn’t have that.

 She was on him before he had even passed the end of her car, pushing him to the ground, smashing his tender, fat face into the pavement. There was a satisfying crunch and he made a muffled squealing sound; the shock of joy she found in that sound was better than head. She lifted his face and brought it back down into the street several more times, grinding his cheek to the bone before the crunch sound was no longer amusing. The flashing lights turned the blood into an oil slick radiating out from his mutilated face.

 She turned him over and straddled him to look down at her work; she liked the looking down part. It was comical how one side of his face was blown up twice as large with swelling and the other half was a gleam of white bone and torn cartilage; she chuckled and flicked the remnants of his nose. A tooth or ten had come out of his jaw during his mouth to mouth with the road. There was a bubble of excitement that formed in her mind and the resulting flash of childish curiosity in those dark eyes was disturbing beyond words even through his one swelling, weeping eye. Her face came closer to his and he shied away but was pinned thoroughly beneath her for so small a girl. He was too startled to react with more than a gasp as her tongue snaked into his mouth and slid into the bloody pits in his gums, dipping into the darkness, rubbing over the splinters of jagged white. There was the same odd sucking feeling when her tongue popped out of an empty hole.

 She smiled.

 He tried to push her away but one hand wrapped around his neck to still him. She shushed him as he gurgled; he pushed but she was stronger. All she could think about was the wet pressure of her bloody crotch against his and the strange pulling sensation of her lips and tongue against his weeping gums. His movements were like wild beating insect wings beneath her; her mind was a radiant span of memories as her tongue flitted between empty holes, her lips occasionally puckering and sucking the bubbling red brew. As time went, he become more still and more silent, his whimpers and thrashes subsiding until there was nothing.

 He was beginning to cool when she realized that her hand was pressed into the rough road, his once sturdy neck nothing more than a dark ink spot on the pavement – she thought the spilled liquid looked vaguely like wings. She blinked down at the head, confused for a moment, before she shrugged and picked up the hysterically uneven head. The ruined thing nestled between her breasts as she stood and shook out her dress, raining little drops of blood down into the puddle around her bare feet.

 Back in the car, the discarded head leered at her from the floor board and she frowned. It would be rather rude of him to be looking up her skirt the whole drive and she couldn’t well have them both in her lap – she knew how tom cats were. It was the throb of light that gave her a wonderfully whimsical idea and she laughed long before scrambling out of her stolen car. She scampered down the road and placed the pair of them on the dashboard of the police cruiser – the most gruesome pair of fuzzy dice she had ever seen.

 Her laughs turned to howls that shook the sky as she ran into the night.

#writing #writer #short story #horror #vampire #newly awakened #zenith wyatt

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Vitamin C: Fact Sheet by Shane Mason

What is Vitamin C?

Vitamin C is an essential nutrient that needs to be obtained from external sources; in other words we need to eat it.  Scientists believe we used to be able to make vitamin C, but somehow lost the ability through evolution.  Most animals are still able to make vitamin C from simple sugars, derived from plant sources.  Humans are not the only ones to lose the ability to make Vitamin C. We are also in the company of some monkeys, apes and guinea pigs. 

Vitamin C is a water soluble nutrient, which means any excess cannot be stored.  It passes out through the urinary system.  This means we need to consume it regularly to maintain good health.  Although uncommon in developed countries, severe Vitamin C deficiency can cause a health condition called scurvy.

The discovery of scurvy was observed in sailors and was a leading cause of death on long voyages.  It was a Scottish naval surgeon, James Lind that first made the connection between the disease and a nutritional deficiency.  Consuming citrus fruit was found to be the quickest way to rectify the condition.  In fact it was said that limes were a winning factor in the Napoleonic wars, British sailors consumed them and stayed scurvy free, where the French sailors became sick.

What are some functions of Vitamin C in the body?

Vitamin C for Growth & Repair

Vitamin C is used in the growth and repair of many structures in the body.  It is used to make skin, muscles, bones, teeth and blood vessels.  With regards to skin vitamin c is used in the production of collagen, which keeps our skin plump and healthy.  It is also important for joint health as it is used to create healthy ligaments, tendons and other connective tissues.

Vitamin C an Antioxidant

Vitamin C helps protect all cells from free radical damage.  This damage can be caused by external factors such as cigarette fumes or by every day cellular processes such as energy production – hence when we exercise we need more Vitamin C. It also plays a part in recycling another antioxidant, Vitamin E so it can be used again in the body.

Vitamin C and Immunity

Vitamin C supports the whole immune system it is rapidly depleted when we get sick.  When a foreign bacteria or virus invades the body Vitamin C is used up and signals the production of an army of white blood cells to protect us. 

Vitamin C is also present in body fluids to provide protection.  It is present in the fluid lining the lungs, where its antioxidant activity helps prevent inflammation and damage to the tissues.  Interestingly studies show, that asthma suffers have lower Vitamin C levels in their lungs. 

Vitamin C is also important for creating antibodies that help fight known conditions. 1,000 mg of Vitamin C per day can increase Antibodies production by up to 400%

Vitamin C and Neurotransmitter production

Vitamin C is found in high quantities in the adrenal glands.  These glands are located on top of the kidneys and manage the production of stress hormones.  It has been observed that when animals are sick or stressed they produce more Vitamin C, which indicates its importance at this time. When humans are stressed Vitamin C is sent from other tissues to the adrenal gland and increased an increase of Vitamin C is found in the urine.

The adrenal glands use Vitamin C for the production of neurotransmitters (chemical messengers).    One of the key neurotransmitters made in the adrenals glands is adrenaline also known as epinephrine.  This chemical is produced as part of the fight or flight mechanism, which was originally designed to help us run away from wild animals. In order to do this it signals various part of the body to increase the heart rate, blood pressure, open the airways and dilate the pupils so we can get away. This hormone is only produced short term. In the long term the anti-inflammatory hormone Cortisol is produced and Vitamin C is also important for Cortisol production and release.

Breakdown and absorption of other nutrients

Vitamin C is used in the metabolism of protein building blocks or amino acids for neurotransmitter production and muscle and tissue repair in the body. It also helps B Vitamins convert into their active forms and increases iron absorption.It is essential for the production of carnitine, an amino acid that is used in energy production. 

What are the deficiency signs for Vitamin C

Scurvy

Gums – gingivitis, receding, bleeding,

Teeth – tooth loss and weakened tooth enamel

Poor immunity

Joint pain

Lack of energy

Plugged body follicles

Nosebleeds

Bruise easily

Rough dry scaly skin and  poor wound healing

Dry splitting hair

What can cause Vitamin C deficiency?

Smoking – This is the number one cause of Vitamin C loss, due to the heavy metals (lead and cadmium) and toxins found in cigarette smoke.  Vitamin C is used up trying to protect us.

Alcohol consumption – also diminishes Vitamin C stores, as it is a toxin and a diuretic leading to increased Vitamin C excretion in the urine.

Medications – there are a number of medications that deplete Vitamin C.  These include hormone replacement therapy (HRT), oral contraceptives, antidepressants, anticoagulants, steroids and antibiotic use.

Heat – Vitamin C is destroyed by cooking at temperatures over 700c.  So you may be eating food high in Vitamin C then removing its nutritional value.  If you boil your vegetables you may lose all the goodness into the water, as Vitamin C is a water soluble nutrient.  So try to steam vegetables lightly.

Foods high in Vitamin C

Most fruit and vegetables have some Vitamin C, some higher than others.  I have listed a few below for to get an idea of the highest sources.

Per 85g

Guava    226mg Blackcurrants     200mg Red pepper     120mg Brussels Sprouts 100mg Broccoli      110mg (about half a cup) Green peppers 77mg Spinach, Kiwi fruit 77mg (for green kiwi fruit.  Yellow are much higher around 102mg) Strawberries 51mg Tamarillo, Persimmon 34mg Citrus fruit 30mg Feijoa         25.5mg Potato, tomato          22mg

                                              The climate, growing season, time of picking (often while green), length of storage and type of preparation if not eaten raw all contribute to the level of Vitamin C found in fruits and vegetables when they are consumed.

Vitamin C Dosage

Recommended daily intake (RDI) as per The Ministry of Health guidelines

Children 1 – 8 years 35mg Children 9-18 years 40mg Adults   45 mg Pregnancy  60mg Lactation  85mg

High amounts of Vitamin C can cause bowel looseness.

Dosing to bowel tolerance when sick

It was discovered that our need for Vitamin C increases when we are sick and that we are able to take larger quantities without experiencing bowel looseness. This was discovered by an American Dr. Carthcart in the 1970’s who said “I discovered that the sicker a patient was, the more ascorbic acid he would tolerate by mouth before diarrhea was produced” If you feel yourself coming down with ill and chills then you can try dosing to bowel tolerance to ensure you saturate the tissues.  This is best done at home, for obvious bowel related reasons.

Protocol for adults

Take 2000mg to 3500 mg of Vitamin C every 2 to 3 waking hours until bowel tolerance is reached, as demonstrated by loose bowels, abdominal bloating or gas. Lower the dose to a comfortable level and maintain for several days and lower the dose as you being to improve.

Do not take high doses of Vitamin C with gastric ulcers or ulcerative colitis.  No high dosing to bowel tolerance in pregnancy and care should be taken if on the oral contraceptive.

Intravenous Vitamin C

This is being used by some doctors to administer high doses for treating serious conditions like heart disease and cancer.  More information can be found about this on www.camltd.co.nz

Practical applications

Colds and Viruses: As we have seen more Vitamin C is required when we are sick.  So it is particularly useful during common viral infections such as colds, flu, shingles, chicken pox, respiratory infections or glandular fever.

Heart disease and Diabetes: Vitamin C benefits the heart and circulatory system by protecting and repairing artery and vein walls.  It also inhibits inflammation in the body, which can cause damage to the circulatory system.  There are also several studies that dosing with Vitamin C helped to lower blood pressure.

Gout: Gout is caused by the build up of uric acid, which forms crystals in joints such as the big toe and causes considerable pain.  Using Vitamin C helps to remove excess uric acid from the blood.

Eye health: There are studies to show that Vitamin C is one of the nutrients that can help protect against Age related Macular Degeneration (ARMD).  It can also help reduce the incidence of cataracts and glaucoma.  Dry and blood shot eyes can be a sign of Vitamin C deficiency.  

Oral health: Vitamin C is helpful for people with receding gum, gingivitis and gum disease

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