#mini dental implants

[smritirajdentistry]

If you're looking for a reliable solution to replace missing teeth, mini dental implants may be the answer. This article provides an in-depth overview of mini dental implants, their advantages, the process involved, and answers to common questions, all tailored for residents in Delhi searching for the best dental care options.

[dramarnathandentalcare]

What are the different types of dental implants?

Dental implants have become a popular and successful way to replace missing teeth. They offer a durable, natural-looking alternative to standard dentures and bridges.

Choosing the proper type of dental implant is essential for getting the best outcomes and maintaining your oral health. In this post, we will look at the many types of dental implants available and help you make an informed decision about which one is suitable for you. 

What are dental implants?

A dental implant is a small metal post that is surgically inserted into your jawbone to replace a missing tooth. Once in place, the implant functions similarly to the root of a natural tooth, giving a solid basis for a replacement tooth (such as a crown) to be fixed.  

Who needs Dental Implants? 

Have lost one or more teeth due to an accident, decay, or gum disease.

Looking for a longer-lasting choice than dentures or bridges?

Have good overall oral health and adequate jawbone to support the implant.

Strive to improve their ability to chew and talk correctly.

They want a natural-looking substitute for lost teeth that will boost their looks and confidence.  

Benefits of Dental Implants:

Dental implants offer several advantages, including:

Natural Look and Feel

Improved comfort

Better Eating and Speaking

Durability

Bone Health

Convenience

Oral Health

Different types of dental implants

Endosteal implants:

Endosteal implants are little titanium screws that dentists insert directly into the jawbone. They are the most common form and work well if your jaw has adequate healthy bones. These implants provide a stable foundation for prosthetic teeth (crowns).

Subperiosteal Implants:

Subperiosteal implants are placed under the gums, but above the jawbone. They consist of a metal frame that sits on the jawbone and behind the gum tissue. These implants are used when there is inadequate bone height for endosteal implants or when bone grafting is not possible.

Zygomatic implants:

Zygomatic implants are longer than other types and connect to the cheekbone (zygomatic bone) rather than the jawbone. They are used when there is significant bone loss in the upper jaw and traditional implants or bone grafts are ineffective.

All-on-four implants:

All-on-4 implants support an entire arch of teeth with only four implants properly implanted into your jawbone. This technique is excellent for individuals who wish to replace all of their upper or lower teeth but prefer a less intrusive alternative.

Mini Dental Implants:

Mini implants are smaller in diameter than regular implants and are frequently used to support dentures or those with low jawbone density. They require fewer invasive treatments and provide support for detachable dentures.

Finally, understanding the different types of dental implants will allow you to make an informed decision about which option is ideal for your specific dental needs. If you need to replace a single tooth or a whole arch, there is a dental implant option for you. Consult your dentist to determine which type is ideal for restoring your smile and improving your dental health.

For more information read the full blog here :  https://www.dramarnathansdentalcare.com/types-of-dental-implants

[wilmingtondentalimplants]

Enhancing Smiles: The Benefits of Mini Dental Implants

Discover the transformative power of mini dental implants in enhancing smiles and restoring confidence. Mini dental implants offer a revolutionary solution for individuals seeking to replace missing teeth or secure dentures with stability and comfort. 

Unlike traditional implants, these smaller counterparts require less invasive procedures and offer quicker recovery times, making them a preferred choice for many patients. With their ability to provide reliable support for crowns, bridges, and dentures, mini dental implants offer a lifelike appearance and functional benefits that improve overall oral health and quality of life. 

Explore the numerous advantages of mini dental implants, including enhanced chewing ability, improved speech, and increased self-assurance. Say goodbye to gaps and discomfort, and embrace a brighter, more confident smile with the help of mini dental implants.

[110dentalorthodontics]

Mini dental implants are smaller-sized implants used to support dental restorations, such as dentures or crowns. They provide a less invasive alternative to traditional implants and are often suitable for patients with inadequate bone structure or who prefer a quicker and simpler procedure. Mini dental implants offer improved stability, function, and aesthetics, enhancing the overall quality of a person's smile and oral health.

[dental-health]

Looking for a Dental Implant Treatment in Red Deer? Consult Our Dentist at Saby Dental

Dental implants are revolutionary tooth replacements that mimic natural teeth in form and function. Surgically embedded into the jawbone, they offer stability and durability. With lifelike aesthetics, patients regain confident smiles and improved speech. As a permanent solution, dental implants provide long-term oral health benefits, making them a popular choice in modern dentistry. If you are interested in dental implant treatment, call our Red Deer dentist at Saby Dental at 403-340-3434 OR book an appointment with us at https://www.sabydental.ca/

[thedentalrootsclinic]

The Dental Roots offers the newest and most advanced mini-dental implant techniques and dental implant procedures for your replacement in Delhi, Gurgaon, India. Replace a small tooth using mini dental implants. If your mini dental implant is being used to restore a small front tooth, you will be provided with a temporary tooth and eventually an implant crown once the front tooth implant has fully healed. A painless mini dental implant procedure looks feels and functions like your natural teeth.

Mini dental implants are smaller and narrower than traditional dental implants, typically ranging in diameter from 1.8mm to 3.0mm. They are designed to be used in situations where a traditional dental implant may not be appropriate, such as in patients with limited jawbone density or in areas with limited space. Mini dental implants can be used to support a variety of dental restorations, including crowns, bridges, and dentures. They can also be used to replace a single tooth or multiple teeth. One of the benefits of mini dental implants is that they typically require less invasive surgery than traditional implants, which can result in a shorter recovery time and less discomfort for the patient. They can also be less expensive than traditional implants.

However, it is important to note that mini dental implants may not be suitable for all patients, and the decision to use them should be made on a case-by-case basis by a qualified dental professional. Additionally, while mini dental implants can be effective for many patients, traditional dental implants may still be the preferred option in certain cases.

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

Comet Donati [Chapter 7: Heart Attack]

A/N: Hello all! Only 3 chapters left!!! 🥰 Thank you so much for loving this fic and giving all my eccentric AU ideas a chance. I’m currently in Washington DC visiting one of my best friends, so if I’m a little bit tardy replying to your comments/messages then that’s why. Don’t fear!! I will check in as soon as I can, and I am still amazed by and will forever cherish your support. 💜

Series Summary: Sex, drugs, boy bands. You are a kinda-therapist recruited (via nepotism) to help Comet Donati through a recent crisis. Things are casual with Aegon, very not-casual with Aemond. Loosely inspired by One Direction.

Chapter Warnings: Language, references to sexual content (+18), drugs, alcohol, smoking, Shelby being a bigger plague than the locusts of Egypt, mental health struggles, references to violence and abuse, New Jersey, pregnancy, mini golf, lots of content for the Cregan girlies.

Selected Chapter Quote: “We’re meant to be together. We have so much history.”

Word count: 6.2k.

Link to chapter list (and all my writing): HERE.

Taglist: ​​@doingfondue​ @catalina-howard​ @randomdragonfires​ @myspotofcraziness​ @arcielee​ @fan-goddess​ @talesofoldandnew​ @marvelescvpe​ @tinykryptonitewerewolf​ @mariahossain​ @chainsawsangel​ @darkenchantress​ @not-a-glad-gladiator​ @gemini-mama​ @trifoliumviridi​ @herfantasyworldd​ @babyblue711​ @namelesslosers​ @thelittleswanao3​ @daenysx​ @moonlightfoxx​ @libroparaiso​ @burningcoffeetimetravel-fics​ @mizfortuna​ @florent1s​ @heimtathurs​ @bhanclegane​ @poohxlove​ @narwhal-swimmingintheocean​ @heavenly1927​ @mariahossain​ @echos-muses​ @padfooteyes​ @minttea07​ @queenofshinigamis​ @juliavilu1​ @amiraisgoingthruit​ @lauraneedstochill​ @wintrr13​ @r0segard3n​ @seabasscevans​ @tsujifreya​ 

Let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist! 💜

You type into Google as you hide in the public bathroom stall, pink tile walls and mint green porcelain, very 1950s, phantom drips of water and humming florescent lights: Can Plan B make your period late?

You scroll through the results, clutching your iPhone with both hands. Faintly, you can hear the rest of the band outside, chattering, laughing, slurping on Slush Puppies, smacking trees and rocks with their golf clubs. Yes, the consensus seems to be; Plan B can delay your period. Incidentally, so can pregnancy.

“Fuck,” you whimper. You peer down at your panties, as if you can force bloodstains to appear: sparce rosy threads of warning, dark red splotches like rust, you aren’t particular. You’ll take anything. “Fuck,” you say again, defeated. You get dressed, wash your hands, and head back out into the cloudless afternoon sunshine.

“Stargirl, it’s your turn!” Aegon shouts as you trot over to them: tenth hole, shaped like an L, featuring an intimidating loop de loop. The course is dinosaur themed; Rhaena picked it. Aegon points to Jace. “This deformed bastard wanted to skip you.”

“I told you,” Jace moans. His speech is garbled and lisping, his face comically swollen, bruised yellow-emerald-indigo and drooling blood, stitches above his left eyebrow. He just had his dental implants placed yesterday; the four teeth that he lost at Club Camelot could not be readily located for reattachment. “I can’t keep track of who’s next. I’m on like four different opiates.”

Baela frets over him. “Shh, shh, baby. Try not to talk.” There’s something about watching someone get almost-murdered that makes you want to forgive them, you suppose.

You grab your club and golf ball, dark blue, from where you left them by a tree. Rhaena gives you a covert little thumbs up and raised eyebrows. Everything good? You smile—too widely, insincere, a liar—and nod. Technically, you have yet to obtain concrete evidence to the contrary.

You take your turn, somewhat awkwardly due to the splint that still encumbers your dominant hand. You are thinking about anything but mini golf. Your ball goes halfway through the loop de loop and then comes rolling back. How many strokes? Four, five, you lose count, it doesn’t matter. Aegon is snickering, though not in a mean way, never in a mean way. Aemond is watching you. He does this constantly; you can feel his eyes—river water, otherworldly atmosphere—on you all the time, you can see him on the periphery of your vision. But when you glance at Aemond, he looks away. You’re wearing flip flops, a black NSYNC t-shirt, and bright pink shorts that Baela insists are of the very short variety. Aemond is staring a little extra hard today. Shelby alternates between glaring at him and at you.

Jace putts next. He misses the ball twice. On the third try, he hits it into a nearby pond. Golden koi fish scatter beneath the rippling sheen of the water.

“Loser,” Aegon declares mildly. “Criston, why the fuck are we in New Jersey?”

“Because you’re playing three shows at the MetLife Stadium in East Rutherford,” Criston says as he putts; his green golf ball sails through the loop de loop, bounces off a wall, and then rolls straight into the cup, a hole in one. “One Direction did it, Taylor Swift did it, and now you’re going to do it too. And if you don’t make it too unbearable for me, I’ll even take you to the beach while we’re here. Okay?”

“Okay,” Aegon agrees. He slurps on his Slush Puppie. “Oh, Aemond, I need the Netflix password.”

“You forgot it again?!” Daeron says. Jace, groaning softly, lies down on the ground in a patch of shade. Baela gets a bottle of Orajel rinse out of her purse and starts pouring it into his mouth.

“Get your own account,” Aemond snaps at Aegon. “I think you can afford it.”

“Bruh, that’s not the point! I don’t know where I left off in Grey’s Anatomy!”

They keep bickering. You stop listening. You can only hear the sounds of rustling leaves, squawking seagulls, the whistling of the warm August wind. You can only feel the weight of Aemond’s half-fascinated, half-resentful gaze on you. He wouldn’t believe me, you think. If I really am pregnant, he would never believe that it was an accident. He would never believe that I was that guilelessly, unambitiously stupid. Hell, I did it and I barely believe it.

You steal a glimpse of Aemond—black shirt and black sunglasses, white shorts, Adidas sneakers—and he turns away, pretending to pick dirt off his golf ball. Interestingly, he will talk to you about things not related to that night in Tokyo; perhaps it would be too suspicious not to, a neon sign for the rest of the band to read. But he never allows himself to be alone with you. And he never touches you, not even a grazing of hands or an absentminded bump as he passes you in aisles or hallways.

Bump, you think miserably. An inauspicious choice of words.

“We should watch Se7en,” Aegon is saying now. “Comet fam movie night.”

You mutter: “We’re not watching Se7en.”

“What’s Se7en about?” Rhaena asks.

“You wouldn’t like it.”

“What’s in the box?!” Aegon shouts dramatically—quoting the beautiful yet doomed David Mills, a name he once borrowed to schedule a Zoom meeting with you—and then cackles. It’s his turn. He clobbers his golf ball and sends it flying through the loop de loop; it pops over the barrier and disappears into a bush. Startled squirrels dart out of the leaves.

“Loser!” Jace slurs as he lies sprawled across the ground, vindicated.

“Stop spitting blood everywhere,” Aemond says. He putts next, and badly: poor depth perception. “You’re getting it on my sneakers.”

“Watch it, cyclops.” Jace points to his own stitches, bruises, surgically replaced teeth. “I let you have this one. Now we’re even. But next time I won’t be so charitable.”

“You’re not even,” Aegon tells Jace, abruptly severe. He whips off his aviator sunglasses, crouches over Jace, glaring and thunderous like a storm. Baela observes this warily. “Not even close.”

Jace is intrigued. “No?”

“No. Your face will heal.” Then Aegon pokes him in the jaw and Jace screams, tears slithering down his puffy, mottled cheeks. Cregan yanks Aegon away before Baela can scratch his eyes out. Criston repossesses Aegon’s blue raspberry Slush Puppie as punishment. Luke wins the game, five under par.

Comet’s first shows in the United States this tour start just like the last few in Asia: Jace is iced, painted with concealer, thoroughly medicated, numbed into semi-consciousness. He does lines of coke in the bathroom under Cregan’s supervision. He can’t perform without it. Criston tried to negotiate a month off for Jace, but the label’s message was clear: get him on stage, we don’t care how you do it, we don’t want to know about it, here’s a blank check, figure it out or we’ll find another manager who can. Now Criston watches Jace with his arms crossed over his chest, his dark eyes wounded and anxious, his shoulders slumped beneath the weight of what he believes is failure.

The story released to the press is that Jace fell down a flight of stairs but is recovering smoothly. He can barely sing; his mic is turned up, and during Jace’s verses Cregan or Luke layer their voice with his. He wobbles and flubs his way through Night 1 in East Rutherford. You spend the show staring up at the stage without seeing it. Baela and Rhaena are with you, but you aren’t really with them; you feel like if they reached out to touch you, their hands would find only translucent emptiness like a mirage. Shelby is flocked by fellow influencers that she’s invited in from New York City. Aemond is somewhere, somewhere: lurking in shadows, brooding, avoiding, musing, suffering, jotting down starlight-colored judgments in his black-paged notebook.

Per tradition, the band and their entourage coalesce in Jace’s suite after the show. Jace himself, the gracious host, promptly collapses on a couch and lies there senseless as the party spins around him like the planets of a solar system. Baela is perched dutifully beside him, holding ice packs to his jaw, wiping away drool the color of one of Aemond’s Brambles. A tattoo artist is inking a goldfinch, New Jersey’s state bird, to the top of Jace’s right foot. Criston is across the room and speaking—rather tensely, it seems—with cigar-smoking label executives. Shelby is snapping photos with her friends; they take turns posing each other out on the balcony, adjusting elbows and wrists and knees, swiping away stray flecks of mascara, rearranging hair, recommending plastic surgeons. Aegon is typing WhatsApp messages—mostly emojis, from what you can see—to Miley Cyrus. At Luke’s prompting, Aemond begins sharing his comments to the presently sentient members of Comet. He puffs on one of his Benson & Hedges cigarettes as he reads aloud. He kindly skips over any criticisms of Jace’s performance.

You can’t stand hearing Aemond’s voice; not because there’s anything wrong with it, but because there isn’t, because you can’t stop remembering what he said to you in that florescent-white bathroom at Club Camelot in Tokyo, because he uses his words on so many people who aren’t you, because sooner or later your time with Comet will be over and you’ll only ever hear him again through Spotify songs and YouTube clips from before the accident, because he will one day be a ghost who haunts you, rattling doorknobs and chilling pockets of air but never speaking. You escape to ask the bartender: “Can I get a Coke?”

“A rum and Coke?”

“No.”

“Like…white powder coke?”

“No, a Coca-Cola. With nothing else in it.”

“Okay, whatever,” the bartender says, perplexed. He fills a glass with ice and dark liquid that pops and fizzes with carbonation, then slides it across the counter to you. You meander out into the hallway where you can be alone, where you don’t have to pretend to be okay.

The carpet is gold but frayed, the walls adorned with faux marble columns and scuffs from recklessly handled suitcases. Even the hotels are worse in New Jersey. You sip your soda—nonalcoholic, huh? you think, then push it aside—and roam past suite doors and vending machines until you reach the cove of elevators. There’s a full-length mirror hanging on the wall there, gilded, gaudy. You frown at yourself, a reflection that suddenly looks a bit like a stranger. You’re wearing a short seafoam green dress, gold earrings and sandals, and an eerily vacuous expression. You turn and move your hair aside so you can peer over your shoulder at what’s been indelibly penned there since Rome: the tiny comet, the lyrics that encircle it.

I wanted to remember this band forever. To remember Aemond. You can feel your stomach drop as it grows heavy with dread. The pulsing music from Jace’s suite has followed you down the hall, Sugar by Robin Schulz and Francesco Yates. I think I might just have more than a tattoo to remember him by after all.

One of the elevators dings and opens. A man lumbers out, towering, broad, monstrous. You gape up at him: brown threadbare coat, heavy boots, unruly dark beard, grey eyes like a bleak winter sky. There is a miasma that colors the air around him with smoke and alcohol, sweat and earth.

“Hello there,” he says, politely enough. His voice is such a baritone rumble that it’s difficult to understand. He has a British accent, but not like Aegon’s, not like Aemond’s. He reminds you of someone you can’t quite place. “I’m looking for a certain young gentleman. I’m hoping you can point me in his direction.”

“Sure,” you reply, trying to disguise your shock so you don’t offend him. He could be someone important. He could be an eccentric producer or a consultant. Or a drug dealer. “Who…uh…who was it you were hoping to speak with…?”

He smiles: sharp canine teeth yellowed by nicotine, glinting eyes like silver coins. “Cregan Stark.”

“Okay,” you stammer. Drug dealer?? “Okay, okay, I’ll…uh…I’ll go get him.”

You hurry down the hall and into Jace’s crowded, smokey suite, clinking glasses and flirtatious titters in dim lighting like late twilight. You return your empty drink to the bartender, then tap Cregan on the shoulder and inform him that someone out in the hallway is asking for him. He doesn’t seem surprised to hear this. Drug dealer, you think confidently. Cregan gulps his vodka shot and follows you out of the suite. He steps through the doorway. He turns towards the stranger. And then he stops dead. His eyes go wide. The blood drains from his face. And Cregan—immovable, inscrutable, unflappable Cregan—shrinks until he is a child again.

Immediately, you know you’ve made a mistake. You reach for him. “Cregan, wait—”

“My son,” the monstrous man sighs. And of course now you’ve realized exactly who the mirrorlike grey of his eyes reminded you of. “My son.”

You can’t stop him. How could you stop him? Faster than you can think, he has crossed the space between you and entombed Cregan in a stifling embrace. Cregan stands paralyzed, his eyes shifting, searching for escape. Tentatively, appeasingly, his hands slowly rise to hug the man in return.

“Criston?!” you shout. But within the suite, he cannot hear you over the music and the berating of smoke-veiled, bejeweled label executives.

“Did you forget about me, huh?” the man asks Cregan gruffly. And as he steps back he grips one of Cregan’s shoulders: not like Criston would, not like a father, like a vice, like a bear trap. He shakes Cregan once, not too hard. “You can fly your private jet all over the world but you can’t call your own father back? Huh? Huh?!” He shakes Cregan again, harder.

“Criston!” you scream. “Security! Somebody!”

Nobody can hear me. Nobody is coming.

You sprint into Jace’s suite, seize Criston by one hand, drag him out into the hall. On the blurry periphery of your vision, you can see Aemond getting up off the couch to follow you. The second he spots the monstrous man, Criston is roaring. “No no no, get away from him!” He pushes between Cregan and the giant, terrifying, wrathful. The man dwarfs him. Criston doesn’t seem to know it. “You can’t be here. We’ve been over this, you’re not allowed to be here—”

The man tries to reach around him to clutch at Cregan’s shirt. Aemond pulls you away from the scuffle. Criston hits the man in the solar plexus; he is momentarily stunned, wheezing. By the time he straightens up, Criston—louder than you, bellowing and fierce—has summoned security. They are swarming the man and escorting him back down the hallway towards the elevators. Aemond goes to Cregan. Criston looks at you. You’re quivering, penitent.

“I had no idea…he asked for Cregan…I would never have…I thought maybe he was a friend of the band…”

“He’s on our no fly list,” Criston says. His voice is tired yet patient. “But you wouldn’t know that.”

You try to apologize to Cregan, but he isn’t listening to you. He’s listening to Aemond. Aemond is speaking to him, low and calm, too quietly for you to hear. “I’m okay,” Cregan says unsteadily. “I’m fine.”

“It’s alright if you’re not,” Aemond tells him.

And you know that right now you are unnecessary, intrusive. Criston goes downstairs to figure out how Comet’s security guards in the lobby didn’t catch this and—presumably—to ensure that the invader is properly dealt with. Aemond slings an arm across Cregan’s shoulders and leads him back to the party where he is cared for, welcome, valued, safe. You hide in your own suite and try not to think about the dates on the calendar—missing blood, summer days ticking down towards zero—as you steep in a hot bath and attempt to scrub everything you’ve done wrong, today, yesterday, ever, off your skin. Then you change into an oversized Backstreet Boys t-shirt and your favorite Cookie Monster pajama pants.

You try to sleep but of course you can’t, surrounded by a silence that only gets louder. When you hear the swipe of a keycard and the creaking of your door, you don’t know who to expect: Cregan, Criston, Rhaena, Luke, Baela, Jace, Daeron, Shelby, Aemond, ghosts. The clopping of his Crocs gives him away, neon pink to match his tank top. “I’m really not in the mood for anything resembling sex.”

Aegon replies as he kicks off his Crocs: “Did I ask, succubus?” He crawls into the bed, throws an arm casually across your waist, rests his head on your belly as your fingers thread through his chaotic blond hair, fond and tender. He burrows into you, into your softness and your warmth and your truth and your mysteries. Sometimes you feel like you’ll give until he falls into you like a trapdoor, the bones of his hands tangling around your spine, his blood vessels spilling into all of your rage-scarlet cavities, hollows of the flesh, hollows of the soul. “You’re sad.”

You stare up at the ceiling. “I have a lot on my mind.”

“Yeah, but I don’t know what. That’s the strange thing. Usually I can tell.”

“You’ve been gone.”

He looks up at you, confused. “I’ve been right here.”

“You know what I meant.”

Aegon doesn’t argue with you, doesn’t try to defend himself, doesn’t make promises both of you know he could never keep. He only lays his head down on your belly again and pulls himself closer to you, closer, closer, melting into your melancholy, dissolving into dreams.

~~~~~~~~~~

“I was eleven when he broke my arm. Thirteen when he cracked my skull for the first time. Then I got big enough to hurt him back.” Cregan looks out over the waves: blue currents, white froth, sunbeams like glinting blades. As Criston promised, Comet is spending an afternoon in Seaside Heights. You and Cregan are sitting on the sand together twenty yards from the others. “I grew up in a two-bedroom cabin with no electricity or running water. We had a metal wash tub outside, ate deer and squirrels and rabbits, never had clothes that fit, never saw a doctor except when what was wrong might kill us. We had a woodstove and chopped down trees to burn in the winter. I had eight siblings, six of whom are still alive. Barnett overdosed. Courtland drove his friend’s Nissan into a brick wall. I’m not sure it was accidental.”

Your words are soft like a whisper, like gentle hands. “Cregan, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not…” His voice breaks. He stops for a while, composes himself, begins again. “It’s not something I talk about. Not because I’m trying to forget it. I can’t forget it, I’ll never be able to, I understand that, believe me. There’s just nothing to be gained from talking about it. I never feel better afterwards. I always feel worse.”

“You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to.”

“I know that. Don’t you think I know that?”

You wait, watching him. There’s something he needs to say. Down the beach a ways, Baela is doing yoga, her bare feet sure and agile in shifting sand. Rhaena, Luke, and Aemond are flying kites in the breeze: black dragons, green dragons. Shelby is, predictably, filming them from where she stands on Aemond’s good side. Aegon and Daeron are swimming so far out that you’re beginning to worry about sharks. Criston is parked under an umbrella with an unconscious Jace, reading Memoirs Of A Geisha and eating a sandwich full of something called pork roll.

“After Comet happened, I got all of them out,” Cregan continues. “My mum, my siblings. Good houses in safe neighborhoods. Security in case Dad makes an appearance. He does, every once in a while. He’s locked up, he’s free, he’s locked up again. He has nothing else to do but haunt us. I’ve been waiting for him to die since I was old enough to understand what a graveyard is.” Cregan looks at you. “Does that make me a bad person?”

“No,” you answer immediately.

“The thing is…” He holds out one large hand, palm down, like he’s resting it on a table. Then he shakes it. “Nothing ever feels stable. Nothing ever feels safe. No matter how much money I see stack up in accounts, I lie awake at night wondering what I’ll do if it disappears. So many people rely on me. I can’t stop worrying I’ll end up back in that cabin somehow. I can still hear drops of rainwater seeping in through the gaps in the roof. I can still smell burning wood.”

“The fact that you feel this way, given your history, is completely logical…even if the fear itself is not. Does that make sense?”

“Yeah,” Cregan says. “Yeah, I think so.”

“Do you think it would help if we sat down and looked at the numbers and did some math? Because I suspect that even with a hundred dependents, you’d easily be able to float them for the rest of your lifetime just using the money you already have. And there will be royalties from Comet’s songs forever. Maybe if we can show you exactly how improbable your worst case scenario is, that fear will begin to fade a bit. Not go away, not completely, maybe not ever…but I think you’ll be able to quiet it down.”

“I’ll give it a try. If you recommend it.” Cregan lights a cigarette and takes a drag. Criston glances over and then pretends he didn’t notice. “I have a daughter,” Cregan says; and you can’t stop the shock from hitting your face like a fist. He smiles faintly, wistfully. “I know. I’ve worked very hard to make sure she is kept away from…” He gestures broadly. “All of this.” Fame. Debauchery. Tabloids. Reddit threads. “I was way too young. And her mother and I…we were never really together. It was contentious for a while, but we’ve sorted through things. I support them financially, obviously. And when I’m not on tour or in the studio, I disappear up to Lancaster for a few weeks at a time and no one is the wiser.”

You study him as wind tears in off the Atlantic Ocean, as seagulls swoop and screech overhead. “I’m sure she’ll appreciate how you’ve protected her once she can understand.”

“I don’t know how to be a father. Not a good one. But I try. I don’t just show up for movie nights and birthdays. I take her shopping for school supplies. I put her back to bed when she has nightmares. I take her to the dentist, to the park, to the library. She really likes pigs, so I adopted a few from a farm animal rescue and we learned how to raise them together.”

“You caring about being a good parent puts you ahead of a lot of people already,” you say. “Nobody in Comet knows?”

“Just Aemond. Once, years ago, her mother needed something and I was out of the country. I had to let somebody in on the secret, somebody I could trust. I chose Aemond. I chose right.” Now Cregan is amused. “He’s the one who suggested the pigs.”

“Of course he did,” you say; and you can’t help but smile. “How old is she?”

“Six and a half. Do you want to see a picture her?”

“Absolutely. If it’s alright with you.”

Cregan pulls his iPhone from his pocket, swipes around for a while, and then turns the screen so you can see. She looks like him, a lot like him, but with round cheeks and long dark lashes. And Cregan is beaming as he says: “Her name is Iris.”

“So you didn’t have to do the Maury paternity test thing.”

He laughs, shaking his head. “No. I knew from the second I saw her she was mine.”

“She’s lucky to have you.”

Cregan shrugs, pensive, evasive. “I don’t know about that.”

“I do.” And he believes that you mean it; you can see it on his face. Aemond is watching you and Cregan, you notice now. He glances over, pretends he didn’t, glances again. You gesture to the crashing waves and say to Cregan: “If Aegon gets attacked by a shark, will you jump in and punch it or something please?”

Cregan chuckles. “Yeah. That’s my main job here, I think. Stopping people from dying.” And then, seriously: “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me. I haven’t done anything that warrants it.”

“No. Really.” Cregan reaches out, takes your uninjured hand, squeezes it briefly before releasing you. “Thank you, Stargirl.” Then he stands and walks to the water’s edge, letting the surf rush up over his ankles, for just a moment feeling nothing on his shoulders but the sunlight.

Aemond gives Shelby his kite and, as she glares bitterly, makes his way over to you. He takes off his sunglasses so he can see you better and hooks them on the waistband of his swim trunks: black, of course, his usual color. You’re actually wearing black today too, a flowing coverup over a pink swimsuit. You feel very much like hiding. When Aemond speaks, there is perhaps a hint of envy, green like leaves of poison, gleaming like snakeskin. “What were you and Cregan talking about?”

“Fatherhood.” And then you realize how it might sound.

There is a split second where Aemond looks startled; then he remembers Iris. “Right. Not so easy for people like us to navigate.”

People like us. Celebrities, boy band members, haunted men. You scramble for a nonchalant way to feel out the subject with him. “How does Louis Tomlinson handle it?”

“He’s a saint,” Aemond says. And you think: Patron saint of baby daddies? “Freddie was very, very unplanned. The mother was a nobody, a rebound. And a lot of people assumed she did it on purpose to try to keep Louis. Or to get eighteen years of a luxury lifestyle out of him. Or to just get fame in general. Personally, I believe it was all of the above.”

“Right,” you say, sweating heavily beneath your coverup.

“But none of that is the kid’s fault, and Louis is a good enough guy to realize it. So he plays nice with Freddie’s mother and they don’t go to war through tabloids anymore.”

“So, uh…” How can I put this? “You’re good with kids too. Cregan told me you had the pig idea.”

And the look that crosses Aemond’s face, the look: caustic, incredulous, night-dark, self-loathing. “Are you insane? Have you met me? I terrify kids. And I should, but not just because of the eye and the scar. What the hell do I know about being a decent father? What do I know about being a decent anything? I’d have no idea where to start. I’d fuck it up even if I tried desperately not to. I’d end up with kids like Aegon: addicts who hate themselves, people who are irrevocably lost.”

You say meekly: “I think Criston is something like a father to you. He could be a role model.”

“I’m not half as good a man as Criston is.”

Change the topic, change the topic, before Aemond gets suspicious. And there’s something else you’ve been meaning to ask him. “Aemond…after you almost murdered Jace…when we didn’t know if or how he was going to be able to perform until he healed…did anyone ask you to come back to Comet and fill in for him?”

“No,” Aemond says. And he’s thunderstruck by the thought, appalled, petrified.

“You don’t think that it might have been a good idea? That it might make sense?”

“No,” he says again instantly.

“But…in Tokyo…when Daeron made that speech at the last show…I think the crowd’s reaction was pretty powerful, don’t you? People still care about you. They love and respect you. And I think…maybe…it might help you with what you’ve experienced. To get back on stage—even just one last time—and prove to yourself that you still have what it takes. To know that if you do leave Comet, it’s your choice, not anyone else’s.”

“They love who I was,” Aemond says. “Not who I am now. And that’s easy to do. They don’t have to look at me.”

“Goddammit, there’s nothing wrong with how you look, Aemond!” you burst out. “You look fantastic. I never get tired of looking at you. I want to look at you all the fucking time. I’d hang life-sized portraits of you on every wall in my apartment in Kansas City. That’s how much I enjoy looking at you.”

He thinks you’re joking, he thinks you’re trying to make him feel better. You can’t stop him from thinking these things. And yet still, as he turns away, he is smiling: just a whisper of a curl at the corner of his lips, secretive, fragile.

As Comet is leaving the beach, you stop at a souvenir shop on the boardwalk to buy your keepsake for this tour destination. You settle on a pink frisbee that has I love the Jersey Shore! embossed on it in large, abrasive letters. You think your parents’ Australian cattle dogs will enjoy fetching it when you get home. Home feels so much closer—both literally and figuratively—than it did just a few weeks ago.

Criston is browsing through the t-shirts. “Hey, what size is your mom, Aegon? Medium?”

“How the hell would I know? Probably.” He holds up a pair of red, white, and blue bikini bottoms that say Firecracker across the ass. “You think my dad would mind if you sent her these?”

Criston is blushing. “Aegon, stop.”

“You could get her a bikini top too. Oh look, that one over there is red, it matches. And it says MILF across the tits. So that’s pertinent.”

“Stop!” Criston cries, distressed, and flees the store.

Halfway through the hour-long drive back to the hotel, Aegon insists that Criston stop the Escalades so he can get a hoagie from a Wawa. Aegon has never had a hoagie before. He says he cannot truly experience America without one.

At the ordering counter, Jace—slightly less bruised and swollen today, and thus in better spirits—taunts Aegon: “Are you sure you need all that bread? You’re going to be wearing a muumuu on stage by the time we get to the Midwest.”

“You know, just because you said that, now I’m going to get two hoagies…”

On the television mounted inside the Wawa, CNN is reporting on a group of tornadoes that just struck Wichita. And it occurs to you that tornadoes don’t have trajectories to calculate like hurricanes or airplanes or comets; they are climatological sharks. They strike quickly, indiscriminately, and then they’re gone again. They aren’t named. They aren’t enshrined. They don’t even have a belly to cut open and retrieve pieces of your loved ones from. If they take someone, they’re just gone.

While the rest of the band is in line to order their food, and Aemond is scrutinizing the dried fruit and nuts selection, you sneak through the other aisles.

It’s time. I have to find out eventually. I have to know.

You pluck a pregnancy test—cute, pink, nausea-inducing—off a rack, purchase it with truly impressive speed at the checkout counter, and race to the bathroom. It’s surprisingly difficult to piss on a tiny stick of doom, especially when your primary hand is in a splint and only partially useable. Eventually, you manage. You put the cap back on the pregnancy test, set it on top of the toilet paper dispenser, and stare at the metal door of the stall. The Wawa speakers are playing The Fray’s Over My Head.

It won’t be positive. It can’t be positive.

You think of pregnancy test commercials you’ve seen: happy couples rejoicing, happy single women getting negatives. How are you supposed to react to bad news? Nobody ever tells you. Do you scream, sob, beg for forgiveness, schedule an appointment at Planned Parenthood? Do you kick the bathroom stall door down in mindless feminine fury? Do you throw yourself off a balcony?

There’s no way it will be positive. It was one time. Just one goddamn time.

And who knows if that will ever happen again with Aemond. This does not improve your mood.

You pick up the pregnancy test. It is unequivocally positive.

You shove it into the small rectangular trashcan for pads and tampons, things you won’t be needing in the immediate future. You get dressed, leave the stall, go to the sink and wash your hands. Then you grip the cool, slick, white porcelain and gaze at yourself in the mirror under nowhere-to-hide florescent lights. What do you feel? Everything, nothing, things you can’t name yet. You’re a raw nerve, you’re completely numb.

The bathroom door swings open. Shelby enters. She squares up with great purpose. Your eyes roll to her, slowly, with no tolerance left, not a drop of it. “Stay away from Aemond,” she demands.

“Make me.”

She is in disbelief. “I’m sorry, what?”

You turn all the way towards her. “Fucking make me, Shelby.”

“I knew you wanted him,” she says, she seethes. “I saw you in those paparazzi photos from Reykjavik and I knew you were already twisting your claws into him.”

You hold up your hands to show her; your thoughts are fuzzy, dazed, without inhibition. “I have no claws whatsoever. If I did, you’d know about it. Believe me. You’d be able to look down and watch your heart beating through the gashes.”

“You don’t belong here. Some Midwestern farm girl running around in flip flops and Cookie Monster pajama pants? You’re trash. You’re a user. You’re a nobody. And if you’re trying to steal a taken man, then you’re a whore too.”

“I’ve been called worse things by better people.”

“I can make them hate you,” Shelby says indignantly. “Comet. The world.”

“Good luck with that, Malibu Barbie. Nobody even knows I exist.”

“Stay away from Aemond,” she says again, trembling with her futile bleach-blond rage. “We’re meant to be together. We have so much history.”

“And yet no future.” You smile sweetly, breeze past her, step on one of her perfectly pedicured feet with a thoroughly unpretentious flip flop. By the time you return to them, the band is almost ready to leave Wawa.

You’re not hungry, but Aegon coaxes you into taking a few bites from his hoagie. You’re not able to focus on what people are saying, but you hear Aemond mention that he wishes Comet had time to visit a planetarium in some nearby town called Toms River. You think about what it would be like to lie side by side with him under the stars, under the sky where comets appear again after vanishing for centuries. You wonder if there’s anyplace where you and Aemond could ever be truthful with each other.

At night you can’t sleep. There is no shortage of reasons why. You wander from your bed to the gold-carpet hallway to the vending machines, where you stare brainlessly at the options. Am I supposed to not be drinking caffein? Did I get any Vitamin D today? How much sugar is too much? You buy a bottle of apple juice—surely a safe bet—and head back to your suite.

As you walk by Aemond and Shelby’s door, your steps slow. Some nights you can hear them in there arguing: Shelby reiterating all the reasons why they’re perfect for each other, clearly a rebuttal to an accusation you weren’t privy to. Some nights you hear muffled casual conversation or episodes of Cosmos. Some nights you hear nothing at all. Some nights your imagination colors in the gaps before you can stop it: his hands on her, his mouth on her, things you know you have no right to dread and yet you do. But tonight, Shelby is momentarily removed from the scene. You can hear the distant pattering of the shower, and then Aemond alone in the living room gathering up plates and glasses. He’s singing something very quietly, so quietly it takes you a while to recognize it. It’s not even a Comet Donati song. It’s Through The Dark.

You sit down in the empty hallway, your back to his door. And you lean your head against it as you listen to Aemond singing softly to himself, doubt sinking into you the same way that trapped blood fills a bruise: Maybe it wasn’t as good for him as it was for me. Maybe he doesn’t talk to me because he doesn’t want to. Maybe I don’t belong here anymore. Maybe I’ve invented a history that we don’t really share. Maybe he didn’t mean it when he said he loves me.

“What am I going to do?” you whisper, scalding tears brimming in your eyes, shivering hands settling on your belly. In a few months, you’ll be showing. “What the hell am I going to do?”

[humans-of-seoul]

"제 인생은 ‘정파’라기보단 ‘사파’에 가까워요. 26살 때, 돈 많이 준다고해서 지방에서 일하다 집이 망했다는 소식을 듣고 돌아왔어요. 난리가 났더라고요. 집은 월세로 바뀌었고, 빚쟁이들이 들락거렸어요. 전부 이야기 하긴 어렵지만, 엄마가 갑자기 큰 돈을 만지게 되서 욕심이 나셨는지, 무리하다 빚지셨더라고요. 당시 공무원이었던 형이 자기 앞으로 대출 가능한 금액을 받아줬는데, 빚이 얼마나 컸는지 원금에 비하면 손톱만한 금액이더라고요. 저도 부모님 때문에 처음으로 대출을 받아봤어요. 돈만 생각하면서 집에 보태고 있었는데, 달에 이자만 몇 백이 들고, 나아질 기미가 없는 거예요.하루는 삼형제가 모였어요. '이러다가는 우리 다 무너진다'고요. 형은 지방에서 일하고 있었으니, 가족들에게 거리를 두라고 했어요. 동생은 24살이었을 텐데, 그동안 제가 모아두었던 천만원으로 보증금을 해서 내보내버렸어요. 월세는 알아서 하라고하고요. 제가 마지막까지 집에 엄마랑 있었죠. 마지막 짐을 챙기고 나오는데, 나오면서 생각했죠. ‘마이너스부터 시작이구나.’ 원래 전 서른 살 이전에 자영업을 하는게 오랜 꿈이었어서, 스무 살 때부터 아르바이트를 해왔거든요. 근데 그 돈을 다 날렸을 뿐만 아니라, 대출까지 낀 채로 다시 시작해야 했어요. 그 해엔 변호사 상담도 해보고, 부���산도 처음 보러 다녔어요. 세상을 많이 알게 된 해였죠." “그 이후로 가족들을 만난적이 있나요?” “최근에 형이 결혼을 해서 엄마를 오랜만에 봤어요. 한 4년 만인가. 얼굴은 주름도 많고, 치아도 안 좋다고 하시는데, 표정은 밝아 보이시더라고요. 웃으면서 임플란트를 하신다고 얘기하는데 뭉클 하더라고요. 남들한텐 아무이야기 아닐지 모르지만, 엄마가 직접 돈을 벌고, 필요한 걸 할 수 있게 되었다는 게요.”

- HOS 미니시리즈: 달콤한 이야기 -

“I've lived my life more off the beaten path than on the straight one. When I was 26, I went to work in the countryside after hearing it paid well, but found out my family back home was falling apart. It was a huge ordeal. We had to start paying monthly rent on our house, and debt collectors started stopping by. It's difficult for me to get into the whole story, but I guess my mom got greedy after coming into a large amount of money, and she ended up running herself into debt. My older brother, who was a public official at the time, took out the biggest loan he could, but it was only a small fraction of our mother’s debt. I also took out my first loan to help my parents. I was supplementing our family’s expenses, but the monthly interest was hundreds of millions of won, and there were no signs of things getting better. One day my two brothers and I got together and realized that at the rate we were going, we'd all collapse. I told my family to let my older brother be since he was working in the countryside. I gave my younger brother, who was around 24 at the time, 10 million won of my savings to put toward a house. I told him to figure out rent on his own. I stayed at home with my mom until the end. When I carried out the last of my belongings, I had this thought: "it all starts with a minus.” I had worked part-time jobs since I was 20 with the dream of becoming self-employed before I turned 30. Not only did I lose all of my savings, but I had to start completely over in debt. That year, I consulted with a lawyer, and I also started looking at real estate for the first time. It was a year I learned a lot about the world.” “Have you seen your family since?” “My older brother got married recently, so I saw my mom for the first time in a while. It had been about 4 years. Her face had more wrinkles and her teeth didn't look so good, but her expression was bright. She smiled and told me she would soon get dental implants, and it was really touching. It might not mean much to others, but my mom has been able to make her own money and do the things she needs to do.”

- HOS Mini-series: Sweet Stories - 

[julyfraze31725]

Teeth In A Day Oceanside

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[jackknowles140]

Periodontal Disease Causes En

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[christopherbuchanan1103]

Periodontal Disease Causes En

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Periodontal Disease Causes Vi

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Dental implants in San Francisco restore missing teeth with options like stable endosteal implants, subperiosteal implants for low bone density, and All-on-4 for full-arch solutions. For patients with limited bone structure, mini implants are perfect because they allow for individualized care.

Types of Dental Implants in San Francisco: Find the Right Option for You

Endosteal Implants

Subperiosteal Implants

All-on-4 Implants

Mini Implants

Conclusion:

Restore your confidence and improve your oral health with tailored solutions for dental implants in San Francisco. We can help whether you require full-arch restorations or single-tooth replacements. Call 415-318-1818 to schedule your consultation and achieve a radiant smile!

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Periodontal Disease Causes Oc

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Dental Implant Procedure: Everything You Need to Know

Curious about dental implants and how they can transform your smile? Let’s walk you through each step of this life-changing process. From the initial consultation to the final check-up, we’ll cover everything you need to know, ensuring you’re fully informed and confident in your decision.

What Are Dental Implants?

Dental implants are artificial teeth surgically placed into the jawbone where natural teeth are missing. The process involves inserting a titanium post into the jaw, which acts as a strong anchor for a replacement tooth. This entire procedure can take several months, starting with a consultation to discuss your options, followed by planning, implant insertion, and finally, placing the new tooth. Knowing what to expect helps you make an informed decision about whether dental implants are the right choice for you. They not only enhance your smile but also improve its functionality.

Understanding the Basics of Dental Implants

A dental implant is essentially a metal post that serves as a replacement root for a missing tooth. It is surgically implanted into the jawbone, where it fuses with the bone through a process called osseointegration. This bonding creates a stable base for a dental crown (the visible part of the tooth) to sit on. Dental implants look, feel, and function just like natural teeth, providing a long-lasting solution to missing teeth.

The entire dental implant process can take anywhere from 3 to 9 months, depending on the specific type of implant used. This can include options like endosteal implants, zygomatic implants, or mini implants.

Benefits of Dental Implants

Dental implants offer numerous advantages over traditional bridges or dentures:

Stability: Unlike dentures, implants are fixed in place and won’t shift, ensuring comfortable eating and speaking. Bone Preservation: Implants help maintain the integrity of the jawbone, preventing bone loss that often occurs with missing teeth. Natural Appearance: They look and feel just like your natural teeth, restoring your smile and confidence. Longevity: With proper care, dental implants can last a lifetime, making them a worthwhile investment. Successful dental implants depend on the overall health of your mouth, including the condition of your gums and remaining teeth. Following your dentist’s aftercare instructions is key to ensuring long-term success.

Step 1: Consultation and Planning

The journey to getting dental implants begins with a consultation with a skilled implant dentist. During this visit, your dentist will thoroughly examine your mouth using X-rays and scans to assess the condition of your jawbone. This is crucial in determining if your bone structure is suitable for implants. Based on this evaluation, your dentist will create a personalised treatment plan tailored to your needs.

Initial Dental Exam

After your initial consultation, a comprehensive treatment plan will be developed, detailing each step of the process, the timeline, and the estimated cost. If your jawbone isn’t thick enough, additional procedures like bone grafting may be necessary to prepare the site for implant placement.

Step 2: Surgical Placement of Implants

The next stage involves the surgical placement of the dental implant. Your dentist will make a small incision in your gum to expose the bone and drill a hole where the titanium implant will be inserted. This procedure is typically performed under local anesthesia to ensure comfort.

Once the implant is placed, a healing period of several months is required for the bone to integrate with the implant through osseointegration.

Step 3: Healing and Osseointegration

Osseointegration is a crucial step where the bone grows around the implant, securely anchoring it in place. This process generally takes about 3 months. During this time, a temporary tooth or healing cap may be placed to maintain the appearance of your smile. Regular check-ups with your dentist are essential to monitor the healing process.

Step 4: Attaching the Dental Prosthetic

After successful osseointegration, an abutment is attached to the implant. This small connector piece serves as the base for the final dental crown or prosthetic tooth. The abutment is usually placed under local anesthesia, and the gum is allowed to heal for about two weeks before the final crown is attached.

Crafting Your Custom Dental Crown

The final step in the dental implant process is the creation and placement of your new tooth. Your dentist will take a mould of your mouth to craft a custom-made crown that matches the color and shape of your natural teeth. Once fitted, this crown will blend seamlessly with your existing teeth, giving you a fully restored smile.

Aftercare and Maintenance for Dental Implants

Immediate Post-Operative Care

After dental implant surgery, it’s important to follow your dentist’s aftercare instructions to ensure a smooth recovery. This may include taking prescribed pain medications, applying ice to reduce swelling, and sticking to a soft food diet for a few days. Keeping the area clean is crucial, so gently brush and floss as recommended to prevent infection.

Long-Term Maintenance

Taking care of your dental implants is similar to caring for natural teeth. Regular brushing, flossing, and dental check-ups are essential to keep your implants and surrounding gums healthy. Even though implants can’t develop cavities, neglecting oral hygiene can lead to peri-implantitis, a gum disease-like condition that can compromise the success of your implants. Consistent oral care will help ensure that your dental implants remain functional and beautiful for many years.

Ready for a Smile Transformation? Contact Ashwood Dental Today!

At Ashwood Dental, we are committed to helping you achieve a beautiful, functional smile with dental implants. Our experienced team guides you through every step of the process, using the latest dental technology to ensure the best results.

Considering dental implants? Schedule a free consultation today! Call us at (03) 9885 2712 to begin your journey to a brighter, healthier smile. We look forward to creating a personalised treatment plan that suits your needs and goals. Visit us at Ashburton for expert care from your local dentist in Ashburton!