#CrackTooth

[zivadentaltx]

In Need of Perfect Teeth?

Your perfect smile awaits at Ziva Dental! Every smile matters to us. Book your appointment now for flawless teeth. Call: 210-988-0777 Visit: https://www.zivadental.com/

[seattleareapunkshows]

Excited to announce this one! #Phane #GrievousPain #TormentinTyranny #Spitpuddle #SailingCamp #Cracktooth #Shudderwa #freetamponsband #SeattleAreaPunkShows #marginalwayskatepark (at Seattle, Washington) https://www.instagram.com/p/CpRqMCDszOl/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[rhodrymavelyne]

#RainbowSnippets: Seven Tricks

An impetuous mouse prince finds his heart's desire.

Welcome to Rainbow Snippets! We snippeteers post and share six sentences of LGBTQIA+ fiction on our blogs every Saturday and Sunday, so check us out at… https://www.facebook.com/groups/RainbowSnippets I feel like Mousetrick himself, scurrying from story to story what with Fairest‘s recent release, but I’ve got two holiday stories of my own; Wind Me Up, One More Time and Seven Tricks. This week,…

[whispersafterdusk]

Prompt 14: Clear

The entrance to the cave was covered in sharp brambles but Jambert forced his way through then kicked the brambles back into place behind him, praying they would be enough to deter the wolves that had pursued him halfway across the forest; it HAD to be enough, as Jambert was spent -- bleeding, exhausted, out of arrows, and with his spear's haft cracked near its head.

The pack had been unusually hostile -- ordinarily the wolves were skittish and kept well away from people but this group of six had fallen on him and Athilda without warning...he could still hear her screaming as four of them tore her pieces, leaving one other and the big alpha of the pack to chase after him as he fled - for help, he'd told himself. Not that anyone could help Athilda now...

He could hear the whisper of grass and snapping twigs outside and see the looming shadow of the enormous pack leader approaching, and then just as quickly as it had appeared the shadow vanished with a loud huffing noise.

The silence afterward was stifling - almost worse to endure than the throbbing pain of the numerous gashes and bite marks that marred his hips and lower legs where he'd been seized briefly before breaking away and fleeing (like a coward, he could hear the others say... Well, someone had to survive to sound the warning! Just as soon as that damned giant beast was gone and the way was clear).

His eyes were still dazzled by the brilliant afterimages from the midday sun outside, reducing him to blindly groping about behind him to tuck himself further into the cave. It seemed much larger inside here than expected, and strangely smelled of...cooking meat and woodsmoke? Oh gods...had he stumbled into a Grey's cave? Spinning about on his backside and peering into the depths of the cave he could indeed detect the flicker of firelight from somewhere within.

He went to remove his mask and fumbled it in his blood-slicked hands, dropping it to the stone beneath his feet with a clatter. From further in the cave he heard the scrape of boot on stone and a silhouette appeared against the fire's light; desperately Jambert began to back away, glancing between the shadow ahead and out where he knew another deadly shadow stalked him -- was the wolf gone? Could he get back out of here and back to the Bannock safely?

"I wouldn't, were I you," came a voice from the figure before the fire.

Jambert grasped his spear and tried to bring it to bear, scraping the butt on the ground. "S-stay back! Who are you?"

"Easy, friend. Were I to guess I'd say ol' Cracktooth drove you in here?"

"Huh?" Jambert hummed, squinting as the figure came closer.

It was a tall elezen man - older, with long white hair and neatly trimmed beard. He was dressed in brown and cream leathers, like a woodsman, and what skin was visible was a cool gray -- he HAD gone into a duskwight's cave, damn it!

"You're safe in here but I'd give it until nightfall before you try making it out to anywhere," the elezen went on. "He'll stick around with blood in the air but won't be able to stand getting close enough to attack us here, and hunger will drive him elsewhere eventually."

"I asked, who are you?" Jambert repeated through gritted teeth.

The man spread his hands in a placating gesture. "Sylnan, at your service. And, currently, your host, being as you've barged into what serves as my home for the time being."

"What are you doing here?"

Sylnan blinked at him. "I...just said as much. This camp may not be much but 'tis better than sleeping rough outside or up a tree."

He paused and Jambert could see his attention flicking up and over his own head, and resisted turning to look that way as well - no way in hell was he going to turn his back on a Grey.

"So, was it a giant wolf that sent you scurrying in here? Black patch of fur at his right shoulder? Missing the top left fang?"

"I- what does it matter to you?" Jambert huffed.

Sylnan chuckled. "Because I trekked out here to hunt him - something ails the beast, has driven him into a mad hunger, and his pack follow him with great gusto. He's upsetting the balance of predator to prey here and must be removed. T'would seem he somehow knows he is being stalked, perhaps for the first time in his life, but he is still wily enough to avoid those places where he could be easily dispatched. That hasn't stopped him from hunting however."

"...y-yes, it was a giant wolf. He killed my partner, and I-" Jambert shut his mouth quickly, momentarily jarred by the force of his teeth clacking together. He didn't need a damned duskwight chastising him for cowardice.

Nodding thoughtfully the other turned and went back toward the fire. "I thought as much. As I said, I would remain until at least nightfall though staying until morning would be best when you can slip out while the monster slumbers."

"W-what keeps him from coming here?" Jambert asked, again looking to the entrance of the cave. "Surely thorns is not enough?"

"No, not alone, but with this just about anything with a nose will remain away."

He turned back in time to see the man toss a leather sack at him; Jambert instinctively caught it and at first was puzzled over how a small bag could keep a wolf at bay but then a faint scent reached him - it was familiar but not so familiar that he could place it. He untied the sack to check within and his nose immediately rebelled at the overwhelming smell of hot spices, mint, and something vinegary and herbal. His eyes watered, his nose began to stream, and he quickly tied the sack shut and threw it back at the elezen man in distaste.

"Eugh! What is that?!"

Sylnan got up to retrieve the sack. "A powder I leave around the outer border of my camps. If YOU think the scent is awful try having the powerful nose of a predator -- a light dusting is all it takes. It harms nothing, deters most everything in the Shroud, and is easily washed away with the rain. Can't really smell it myself once it's dusted around either." Standing there he eyed Jambert up and down. "I suppose I should ask if you're well enough to last the night or are you in danger of bleeding to death?"

Jambert quickly looked himself over; he was oozing in a few places and some of the puncture marks were deep. They would definitely need attention and soon, before infection set in (especially if this Cracktooth was actually sick).

"Come to the fire, I'll boil some water so you can clean yourself up."

Jambert stared. "Why are you helping me?"

"Would you prefer if I left you to the literal wolves?"

"...no."

"Then I invite you to come to the fire and we'll see about getting your wounds tended."

Hesitantly (and painfully) Jambert stood and shuffled into the cavern. Beyond the opening area the ceiling rose up high and he could see wisps of woodsmoke dancing along the stalactites there. A small fire burned at the rear of the cave with an iron tripod set up to dangle a cookpot over the flames; the Gr- ...Sylnan, was pulling a roll of bandage and a bowl out of a traveler's pack, and filled a second, much smaller pot with water from a clay jug sitting near a bedroll and placed it at the fire's edge.

Now that he was closer he could see a bow and full quiver well within Sylnan's reach -- if he'd wanted Jambert dead he would've been dead before he'd realized the elezen was even there. So...he supposed he could safely believe the man meant him no harm.

He lowered himself down near the fire with a grunt to wait for the water to boil.

[latveriansnailmail]

I've been having a shit time of it lately so it's nice to have some new notes on my old Heroscape posts, as well as action on Heroscape at all. As such I thought I would toss up a gallery of my maps I thought turned out well (or others found impressive.)

1- entrance to the Old Cracktooth Caverns

2- Pompeii on a bad day

3- Waterfall Mining Concern

4- river valley checkpoint

5- Fort Jandar exterior

6- Fort Jandar interior

7- urban blight

8- The Temple of the Elements

[echdhu]

Bucky looking after THor’s goats,Gaptooth & Cracktooth and looking a bit harassed..

[dmtbelle87]

Lunch

The tavern booths were in full swing when the party arrived in Cathedral Square; portions of lunch specials were dished out into wooden bowls with various colors painted along the outside rim. The group spread out, each grabbing three or four dishes, before meeting up at a long table towards the back of the tented pavilion. Sabacen and Drux dug into Peppercorn Venison and Spiced Potatoes, while Zevran and Tansy raved about the Curried Salmon. Snubs barely said a word, but actually looked a little happy with the potatoes as well.

As the Performer’s Contest began, Sabacen noticed the tables growing fuller, as nearly half the town now sat eating in the square. He winced as he turned slightly towards the stage, wondering what he would have to say about Balenar’s performance; however, Balenar was nowhere to be seen. The first performer sang beautifully, while the second (an older man) squeaked out a dramatic speech. As the third performer ran from the stage, crying, Zevran finally spoke up, “How did he get in and Balenar didn’t?”

“I know, right?” Balenar sat down next to the group, pushing his way into a seat in the middle. “I was pretty out of it this morning during auditions; I think the clerics may have drugged me or something. I felt pretty sick once I left the chapel.” Sabacen noted the dark circles under his eyes and the slight shake in his hands as he started eating. This kid needs a strong drink. Sabacen began looking around for something stronger than the watered-down ale being served, finally having to ask Zevran where he could find something stronger. “The General Store is probably your best bet. It’s down by the Curious Goblin.”

At that point, Tansy spoke up: “We are supposed to be patrolling the area; maybe we can split up and take a walk around before you guys have the Pie-Eating Contest?” Sabacen nodded, and they each made their way through the Upper City.

[tinymixtapes]

Music Review: Alvarius B. - Alvarius B Vs Abdel Baqy Byro In Cairo

Alvarius B. Alvarius B Vs Abdel Baqy Byro In Cairo [Nashazphone; 2017] Rating: 3/5 As I’ve said before, a schizophrenic out on a walk with his Tascam DR-05 is infinitely more interesting than a neurotic moping on his couch with an Epi Texan. You gotta get outta yer head and let the world create itself around you. Yo-yo around town, let Cairo guide you. The city pens something new daily, but yer too up and out to pay any attention. That’s the secret: yer the yo-yo and Cairo is flippin’ you around her fingers. Walk the dog around the world and up the elevator. Only when yer at the apocheir can you really see the whole place laid out as it actually is. Yeah, real heads know that the yo-yo is a state of mind and these two, Bishop and Byro, they’re real heads. They’re peregrine falcons who fell asleep on the bus. --- You’d never believe it, but I’ve scored some high-level scuttlebutt! A genuine communique from out of the shadows of Sugar Street. I was directed to this geezer, baleful and billy-goateed, slurping down shrimp at a Chinese spot. After not a little bit of convincing, he pointed me to another geezer, and this next one to another. Before I knew it, I had criss-crossed Cairo a dozen times, kissing the feet of every streetside dignitary in town. Anyway, I finally got to them in the middle of their rounds. Those wizened, cracktoothed boys, with radar antennae strapped to their domes, were wandering about and sorting through trash. They dragged me into an ahwa and all piled around the shisha. Between sips of tea and sips of smoke, I made my request; they nearly cackled themselves off their cushions. “Abdel Baqy Byro?” they sputtered and sprayed, misting me in sweet minty shai. “No such person around here!” Naguib, summoning all his reserve solemnity and sagacity, pinched his chin and disclosed: “Without a doubt, it’s a fake name, a pseudonym, a shield.” And he was right. It wasn’t even a pen name, just a name for a pen. --- There are social and political questions we can ask at this juncture, ones that go beyond authenticity as a purely aesthetic or performative value. The creation of this heteronym, presumably Cairene, could certainly be considered just another iteration of the tendency to repackage and repurpose the lived experiences of others as some exotic curio, for example. Even in its geographic/cultural specificity, even if we consider these representations to obtain within the contemporary mode of living in Cairo, the facelessness of the project only serves to submit the voices and performers within the piece to the homogenizing regime of Western media consumption. Moreover, his attempts at weaving his own work into the collage speak to a bizarre sense of dominance he has over the narratives being spun. Would I consider this a craven attempt at authenticity? Maybe, but I also think it doesn’t matter all that much. I think he doesn’t even care about authenticity or how other people might define it. My inclination is to call it a complementary persona, a look in the mirror that reveals someone other than himself. A sounding board to reflect upon, a muse to cast admiration upon, a rival to beat upon. Maybe he just needs an alternate personality to skulk his way through the city. A version of himself that can sit on trains and spy on football teams. It can be tough sometimes to get by unseen, and what he is trying to do benefits from a certain type of anonymity. [Undecipherable voices] A record label? No, I don’t know anything about that. I’ll have to look into it. --- God, it smells. This whole city is just a broiler for garbage. Yeah, I know him. I practically taught him everything he knows. I taught him the secret to getting around town and the secret to surveil without limit. It’s easy. All you have to do is be the biggest weirdo in sight. Loosen up the wrists and limber up the legs. Make yourself flexible like melted plastic under the Cairo sun. Bug out your eyes and slink real low. Everyone that sees you has to not want anything to do with you. A real pariah, so not even a mugger would risk contracting your social disease. If you can manage that, you can go anywhere and do anything. But, honestly, he’s a sneak, and I wouldn’t trust him. The last time I caught him, he was in the night market, moaning into a microphone with a shitty speaker at his hip. I don’t think he was even singing in any real language, but the tourists were just coursing coins into his hat. Yeah, I wouldn’t trust him. He’s got the blood of poets on his hands, but, always with his wolfish grin, he just washes them invisible. --- Review: Alvarius B. - Alvarius B Vs Abdel Baqy Byro In Cairo By SamKapp, 2.27.2017 Honestly, I don’t even know where to begin with this mess. On the whole, I think this entire record is unlistenable and without any redeeming qualities. Half of it sounds like it was recorded in the back of a U-Haul truck and the other half isn’t even music! It’s just people talking and street noise and stuff. I don’t know if misters Bishop and Byro think their doing something cool or edgy with this album, but I can tell you that it does not work. From the lame raps with dumb autotuned vocals to the meandering go-nowhere guitar, the “music” on this record is slim and unsatisfying. And also, most of these lyrics are gross and some are downright offensive. I bet your moms would be ashamed of you two. Actually, there definitely trying to be edgy. With the weird political stuff (messing around on your laptop while a news report plays in the background?? C’mon!) and cringey spoken word, it’s tough to take this release seriously in a world where we have artists like The C▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒, A▒ L▒▒▒▒▒▒▒, and R▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ putting out new music. I really don’t think it’s fair to real music to even give this record a score, but since I have to, I’ll give it a 1/30 P.S. Oh, and for the record, to Bishop and Byro, I do write songs, thank you very much. And they’re a whole lot better than the half-baked garbage you put onto your album and try to sell to people for a crazy amount of money. --- I have seen a malaise drown this poor city in recent years. The various political ruptures that have torn through the region, I believe, have left many mute and cloistered within the smallness of their own lives. It feels like listening to the same, degraded, sad song over and over, playing through the words and gestures of every soul crowded on the streets. Even the typically amiable men who crowd the coffee shops on break seem lethargic and without conviviality. A stultifying silence reigns. Now, I must fully admit that I am not completely aware of the provenance of this music, but by descriptors and collected players, I think this is what music in Cairo must sound like today, in these times. These two gentlemen have provided for us an antidote with which to dispel the abulia that looms specter-like over the populace. It is ecstatic and free, moving with grace and humor from one passage to the next. Yes, it is, on occasion, a little coarse, but its brio is to be admired. A finger on the pulse, indeed, it comes to us as a document of life in the daylight and beneath moon. I hear Cairo in the snatches of street and radio, all tempered by the unusual musical style of the duo. It is refreshing to hear the popular, though sometimes, and unfortunately, backwards-facing, sounds of Cairo repurposed toward something new and exciting. Yes, this is the dithyramb of the people, the Cairene chorus. I would call it: Cairo écorché! --- My mother listened to it and said I wasn’t allowed to. --- Last night, several men reported to me that they saw him stealing out across the sands, a gravedigger’s toolkit strapped to his back. Now, we wake up to reports of an ancestral tomb prised open and thoroughly pilfered. So far, our investigation has yielded little of use. It is clear he was using an assumed name during his stay in Cairo, one tied to a variety of suspect occurrences. We very much regret our lack of vigilance in this matter. However, there is one lead that we hope can bring this thief to justice. Left behind in the hotel room, it appears he forgot to take with him his copy of Baedeker’s Egypt (5th ed.) filled with notes on his criminal intentions. We would urge all receiving this message to keep alert for this individual. In order to restore both property and dignity, it is imperative that he be found and turned over to the appropriate authorities. Before this becomes a distant episode, before he burns across the Maghreb and disappears into the lines of the Atlas, justice must be done. http://j.mp/2oEZybi

[rhodrymavelyne]

#RainbowSnippets: Seven Tricks

Who is this impudent wooden prince with the magnificent jaw? Enquiring mice want to know...

Welcome to Rainbow Snippets! Every Saturday or Sunday, people participating post and share six sentences of LGBTQIA+ fiction on their blogs. (I usually post mine a little early, but there was a kitty crisis.) It can be their own. It can be someone else’s. It just needs to be LGBTQIA+. To sample various LGBTQIA+ stories, go…

[rhodrymavelyne]

#RainbowSnippets: Seven Tricks

Not even the new year can keep a naughty mouse down when there's something tasty under the tree...

Welcome to Rainbow Snippets! Every Saturday or Sunday, those participating post and share six sentences of LGBTQIA+ fiction on their blogs. It can be their own. It can be someone else’s. It just needs to be LGBTQIA+. To sample different LGBTQIA+ stories, go to… https://www.facebook.com/groups/RainbowSnippets It’s the end of a year, the beginning of a new one, but it’s still the twelve days of…

[rhodrymavelyne]

#RainbowSnippets: Seven Tricks

What's in the box under the holiday shrub? The curious object of desire for a romantic mouse prince.

Happy Holidays! Welcome to Rainbow Snippets! Every Saturday or Sunday those participating post and share six sentences of LGBTQIA+ fiction on their blogs. It can be from their own stories. It can be from someone else’s. It just needs to be LGBTQIA+. To sample various LGBTQIA+ tales, go to… https://www.facebook.com/groups/RainbowSnippets Mousetrick will continue to squeak in rapture about the…

[rhodrymavelyne]

#RainbowSnippets: Seven Tricks

The dream of a romantic, if unconventional mouse prince...

Welcome to Rainbow Snippets! Every Saturday or Sunday, those participating post and share six sentences of LGBTQIA+ fiction on their blogs. It can be their own. It can be someone else’s. It just needs to be LGBTQIA+. To sample various LGBTQIA+ stories, go to… https://www.facebook.com/groups/RainbowSnippets For my own, Mousetrick will reveal, psst, psst, squeak, squeak, what he truly wants in…

[rhodrymavelyne]

A holiday tale of a mouse king, err, prince seeking his nutcracker...

[rhodrymavelyne]

#QueerBlogWed: Seven Tricks Freebie Story

A prince among mice is rare...but Madam Mousenip has to work with the material she's got since Mousetrick scampered away with a nutcracker.

On October 20, 2021, P.T. Wyant posted at ptywant.com a Wednesday Words prompt involving sausage, a nose, and boxes. This Seven Tricks freebie story was the result… A long nose poked its way out of a pile of boxes, whiskers twitching at the smell of sausage. Only for a second nose attached to a muzzle to rise from the boxes, baring its teeth. Those teeth closed around the first muzzle, biting…

[rhodrymavelyne]

Secondary Characters Speak Out: Quartz and Dousselmause

Quartz talks with a secondary character as contrary and stubborn as himself; the magician Dousselmause from Seven Tricks...

Quartz sits, glowering somewhat sulkily at the tall, imposing stern-faced man with neatly combed mustaches and a trimmed beard, crossing his long legs covered in dark slacks with a hint of red pinstripe. He wears a long black cape lined with crimson silk over his shoulders. Quartz: So you’re Dousselmause. Cracktooth’s uncle. Marchen’s godmother. The bane of all mice. Dousselmause: (raising a…

[rhodrymavelyne]

#RainbowSnippets: Seven Tricks

Twice bitten, all the more smitten...;)

Welcome to Rainbow Snippets! Every Saturday or Sunday, those participating post and share six sentences of LGBTQIA+ fiction on their blogs. It can be their own. It can be someone else’s. It just needs to be LGBTQIA+. To sample different stories of an LGBTQIA+ vein, go to… https://www.facebook.com/groups/RainbowSnippets For my own, I’ll be finishing up my free taste of Seven Tricks…no, this is…