#transudate

[inkykeiji]

⋆₊˚⊹♡ alastor + dressing you in white

character: alastor warnings: 18+ minors do not interact, heavy pet/master dynamic, toxic relationship (condescension), blood + blood eating, slight gore, fem!reader words: 1.8k

alastor exclusively dresses you, his precious little pet, in white—white linen dresses, white silk pjs, white cotton undies—and you’ve finally figured out why.

“Alright, uh,” Charlie’s finger flicks the worn cardboard spinner in her hands, watching as the arrow lands on a splotch of colour. “Right hand, red!”

You’re in the parlour when it happens—a sudden, sharp pain that sears through your ribs as you bend over, a reactive hiss spit from between gritted teeth. 

“Whats’a matter?” Angel teases, panting slightly. “Too short to reach your colour?” 

Throwing a glance over his shoulder, Angel’s long limbs easily twist to obey the most recent order, both of his right hands finding red circles on the crinkled plastic mat.

“No, I just—”

“Holy shit!” his gasp cuts you off, all amusement eradicated from his face, dissolved by concerned shock. “You’re bleeding!” 

“What?” 

Glimpsing down at your body, your eyes are drawn toward the rapidly developing blot of scarlet, steadily seeping through white linen—a gruesome petal, irregular edges spreading, slow but ceaseless, eating away at the fabric.

A gurgle of disquiet sounds from the couch, voices tangling together, dulled to your ears as your gaze finds your Master’s. 

But he doesn’t meet your stare. 

Unblinking crimson eyes are focused on the flowering patch of blood, beginning to mottle as specks bloom around it. His chest rises and falls with even little huffs of air, ebony pupils gnawing at his irises as they devour the sight, his fingers twitching on his knee. Your gaze drifts back to the smeared blemish, the softest whimper dripping from your lips.

It’s beautiful. 

Alastor was right; your blood does look ravishing against the crisp bright fabric—stark but artful, a miniature abstract piece being painted in real time as the substance transudes the linen, created by your body and his, together. 

Now you understand; there is a reason why Alastor always dresses you in white. Especially when the abrasions he leaves have a nasty tendency to split and spill out. 

Entranced, your fingers press around the sensitive flesh, feeling the open wound hollowed by your dress and staining your skin with a glittering crimson, a sharp breath sucked through the gaps of your teeth, flashes of speared agony radiating through the surrounding flesh.

Your sound of pain seems to snap Alastor from his revere, blinking twice as he comes back to himself, smile stretching wider with something sinister, worming between razored teeth.

“All right,” Alastor’s saying as he stands from the couch, bravado ringing strong and clear and firm over the chatter. “I’ll take care of this.” 

“Are you sure? That looks, uh—”

“Why is she bleeding in the first place?” 

“Alastor, maybe we should—”

“Come, pet.” Alastor disregards the chorus of concerned comments without sparing them a glance, holding an arm out to you in invitation.

Then you’re scampering to his side, instant, instinctive, allowing him to curve around you protectively, guiding you away from a collection of worried faces with a palm plastered over the injury. 

“I told you not to play,” Alastor admonishes in a singsong while he guides you through the threshold of his bedroom

Leaning into him, you nestle your cheek against his ribs, catlike, hiding the blurry disappointment nipping at your eyes.

“But I wanted to.” 

“You should’ve known better,” he chides, but his voice is tender, fingers rubbing soothing circles into your shoulder as he ushers you into his bathroom, depositing you on the rim of the clawfoot tub. “Your injuries are not fully healed yet.” 

Your injuries are never fully healed, you want to point out. He is constantly engraving new cuts, scrapes, slashes, bites into you; there is never a moment where your body is not stained with Alastor in some way.

“I thought they’d be okay,” you say instead, forehead scrunched in petulance. 

“Well, you thought wrong.”

“Who knew a game of Twister could be so strenuous,” you mutter to yourself, bottom lip wavering on the edge of a pout. 

He snorts out a titter, mean and scoffing as his fingers pick through the first aid kit. “For such a smart little girl, you can be really stupid sometimes, can’t you?”

“What?”

But he refuses to elaborate, continuing on as if you hadn’t spoken at all. 

“Clearly, Master cannot allow you to make decisions for yourself,” he teases, but his tone holds a twinge of sincerity, a vow of certainty. 

This is the last time you’ll be making a decision on your own for a long time. 

“Arms up.” 

Immediately, you comply, arms held straight over your head, Alastor’s hands curling in the hem of your dress and pulling it from your body in one swift, fluid motion. 

It stings, the linen of the dress ripped harshly from the steadily weeping wound it had been clinging to, a yelp cracking in your throat. 

A halfhearted hush falls from your Master’s lips as he carefully drapes the soiled dress over the rim of the tub, taking a moment to admire the stain. A finger traces around the blotch almost affectionately, a tender sigh exhaled out his nose. Then his palms are finding your legs, pushing them apart and sinking to his knees, wedging himself between your spread thighs. 

“All right, let Master see,” he murmurs, shoulders hunched a little as he becomes eye level with the gash, your spine straightening to present the tear to him. 

Hesitant fingers prod at the surrounding flesh, now smeared with dried blood, inspecting the damage. 

“You ripped open every single stitch,” Alastor chuckles quietly, his fingers tugging at the bordering skin and watching with macabre awe as the wound gapes open beneath the pressure, a thick torrent of blood oozing out. 

A whine that sounds suspiciously close to his title sticks in your throat, half-stifled by your clenched teeth, and he looks up at you, sadistic amusement glimmering in his eyes. 

“Does that hurt, sweetheart?” His fingertips press down on the tender flesh, now slick with blood, and shove together, completely sealing the wound, another cascade of crimson spilling past the seam. 

“Master!” you cry out, fingers clamping over his shoulders to steady yourself, nails scraping against cotton. 

 The force of his touch increases, claws nearly sinking into the torn slash. “Answer my question.”

“Yes!” you choke out, head nodding in quick little motions. “Yes, it hurts.” 

A soft hum vibrates at the back of his throat, sharp teeth hidden behind a wide, close-lipped smile. Leaning forward, he plants his tarnished hands on your thighs for stability, then runs his nose along the top of the cut, inhaling one deep breath, his entire ribcage expanding as his chest swells with it. 

He stops, holds the scent in his lungs for a moment, lets it ferment into something sick and foul, lets it steep in the tissues and infuses them with you, before finally exhaling, the rush of air frigid against the bleeding gash.

“So pretty,” he murmurs, rubbing his mouth into the blood. “So fucking delicious.”

Tongue unfurling from his mouth, he traces, slow and cautious, around the edges of the wound with the tip, turning rusted blood watery and faded, grotesque streaks painted across your flesh. A noise claws at his throat, desperate to get out as he shoves it back down, tongue flattening over the slit and dragging, measured and meticulous, slick muscle soaking up the percolating blood.

“Alastor,” you nearly moan, dainty fingers curling around his antlers, the sudden touch evoking a growl from deep within his chest. 

“Let your Owner clean it,” he spits against the injury, lips brushing it again, voice muffled by your skin. 

And so, you do—because you’re nothing if not an obedient little pet girlfriend for your Owner, back arching as you press your ribs into his mouth, offering yourself up to him.

He laves over the laceration three more times, glazing it in a protective layer of his saliva, glimmering in the light with each of your shallow breaths. 

“Better,” he breathes, the word nothing more than a wisp of air against the wet cut, chills skittering across your flesh. 

“Th-Thank you, Master,” you whisper, fingers tugging on his antlers a little, desperate to get him closer. “I—It felt nice.” 

Crimson eyes flick up, his gaze veiled by heavy lids as he laps at his lips, cleaning them of excess blood, some of it streaked along his chin. 

And, oh, how breathtakingly beautiful he looks coloured in strokes of you. 

Hips twitching a little, your thighs tense around his torso, and he looks down again, eyes honing in on the drenched lace between your legs, panties molding to your cunt and accentuating every dip, every bump, every contour. 

He chuckles at the sight—something dark, something decadent, something demeaning melting on his tongue. 

“Well,” he pants softly to himself, pride tweaking the edges of his smile. “Would you look at that.” 

A finger traces the outline of your cunt—over your hood, along your lips, circling your hole and just barely pressing into it, watching with a morbid fascination the way it flutters against his finger, delicate material dipping, trying to siphon his finger into you.

“You would like that, you nasty little girl.” 

But he’s aroused, too, his cock straining eagerly against his trousers, a direct result of your sweet blood still tinging his tongue, your precious yelps of pain still ringing in his ears. Saliva pools in the dips of your mouth as you stare at it, thighs flexing on either side of him again, another gush of warmth flooding the apex of your legs. 

“Master, you’re—” you begin in a stringy, needy whine, swallowing thickly. “You—You’re…Can we…” 

“Can we what?” 

A knuckle finds your chin, drawing your eyes back to his, a thumb gripping the point, inhibiting you from fleeing his invasive stare. 

“Come now, it’s rude not to finish your sentence.” 

Pricks of embarrassment erupt across your face, eyes teetering on a wince as you force the stubborn words from your tongue, question trembling.

“Can we fuck?” 

Crimson searches your face, pupils pulsing with a vile sort of voracity, consuming his irises bit by bit as he contemplates. His gaze is cutting, slicing into you as it torturously pulls apart your features and examines them one by one. 

And you—you let him, open and willing and vulnerable and raw as you bear your soul to him, as you rip yourself open for him, as your fingers dig through meat and blood and bone to get to your core, offering it to him wholeheartedly. 

“Perhaps,” he finally responds, reaching for his surgical needle and thread. “I’m going to re-stitch this now,” he tells you, voice a touch huskier than before. “If you are well behaved as I tend to the wound—no squirming, no complaining—I might just give you what you want.” 

His stare holds your own, an eyebrow raising, imbued with inquiry. 

Are you ready to play? 

Oh, he isn’t going to make it easy for you, but you’re up for the challenge. 

[melodrama-ticcc]

— “ 𝐓𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐇𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐚𝐥 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐰𝐢𝐟𝐞 ” ; 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐈𝐈

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐧 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐚𝐰

𝘈 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺 𝘣𝘢𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘴.

𝙃𝙚𝙧 𝙢𝙖𝙨𝙠 𝙤𝙛 𝙨𝙖𝙣𝙞𝙩𝙮 𝙞𝙨 𝙨𝙡𝙞𝙥𝙥𝙞𝙣𝙜, 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙝𝙚’𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙤𝙣𝙡𝙮 𝙤𝙣𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙘𝙖𝙣 𝙨𝙚𝙚 𝙥𝙖𝙨𝙩 𝙞𝙩.

𝘈 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘰𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘮𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘶𝘳𝘢𝘭 𝘛𝘦𝘹𝘢𝘴 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢 𝘧𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘩 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵, 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘤𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘭𝘰𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘣𝘰𝘳𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺’𝘷𝘦 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘥.

𝙥𝙧𝙚𝙫. 𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧. 𝙣𝙚𝙭𝙩 𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧.

ʷᵃʳⁿⁱⁿᵍ: ᶜᵒⁿᵗᵃⁱⁿˢ ᵐᵃᵗᵘʳᵉ ᶜᵒⁿᵗᵉⁿᵗ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗʰᵉᵐᵉˢ. ⁱ.ᵉ. ᵃᵇᵘˢᵉ, ᵈᵉᵃᵗʰ, ᵈᵒᵐᵉˢᵗⁱᶜ ᵛⁱᵒˡᵉⁿᶜᵉ, ᵍʳᵃᵖʰⁱᶜ ᵈᵉᵖⁱᶜᵗⁱᵒⁿˢ ᵒᶠ ᵈᵉᶜᵉᵃˢᵉᵈ ᵃⁿⁱᵐᵃˡˢ, ᵐᵉⁿᵗᵃˡ ⁱˡˡⁿᵉˢˢ, ᵐⁱˡᵈ ᵍᵒʳᵉ, ⁿᵘᵈⁱᵗʸ, ʳᵉˡⁱᵍⁱᵒⁿ, ˢᵉˣᵘᵃˡ ᵗʰᵉᵐᵉˢ, ˢᵘᵇˢᵗᵃⁿᶜᵉ ᵃᵇᵘˢᵉ.

—

The dining table is silent apart from the gentle clanking of silver cutlery against glassware. Gazes wide in stupefaction and nonplus, as the table awaits an answer to the strange encounter they’d just bared witness to. Disconcerted, they watch as she finishes the final bite, scarlet gathering at the corners of her stained lips. The flatware clatters against the plate as she brings the linen napkin to her mouth, patting away the golden crumbs and sticky syrup and blood. She returns the linen to her lap, still wet with the crimson that transudes from the wound on her palm. Finally, Rebecca brings her gaze to meet the guests at her table, a content smile rested on those pretty lips as she finishes chewing her dessert.

The swallow is loud and uncouth, though not nearly as concerning as her current state of mind. She clears her throat as she places a delicate hand over her chest, as if to do so in a defensive manner. There is an uncomfortable silence that fuels the growing tension in the room. Exchanged glances and raised brows only allude to the natural discernment that follows such a plebeian act. In order to cut through the cumbersome silence, Rebecca finds herself attempting to speak up once more, her mouth opening only to be cut off by Johnny, who now rises from his seat. He smiles to the group before his stare befalls her, this time with the necessary intent to oblige her and draw away from the sensitivity of the dining table.

“A lil’ blood never hurt nobody, mind cuttin’ me a slice, doll face?” He plays into her game of make believe, the fantasy that this was some perfect little storybook. That she was the faultless trophy wife of some backwoods redneck neighborhood, or the cover-girl of Good Housekeeping. Whatever game she wanted to play, he’d play it, for she’d piqued his interest. “Sides, I like my sweets a lil’ messy.”

What a blissful thing silence is. That is until it is disturbed by primitive savages like Johnny Sawyer, she thinks. Having had enough of his trivial pissing matches, she too decides to indulge him. She serves him a slice of that sanguinary pie, paired with her chesire leer and a disdainful glare. She leans forward, over the table (an obscenity against basic table manners), and slams the porcelain platter at his place across the table.

“Enjoy.” Her tone is anything but pleasant, it’s mocking, scornful. Evidence that her unsettling grin is nothing but a facade masking her antipathy for the young man.

As he takes the plate she adjusts her posture to stand upright, knife gripped in her good hand as her eyes flicker to the remainder of her guests, and most importantly to her father. “Anyone else?” They’ve all sat back down, and her father, a little skeptical, gives her a knowing look. A warning of sorts. An indicator her show of make belief is drawing to a close, that it is time to face the dire reality and the consequences of her little episode. “Well then, sorry ‘bout the mess folks. I’ll just get this cleaned up.”

The silence is anything but blissful, nothing but the sound of the running faucet and dishes clanking. Any attempt to strike up a conversation is short lived, the table awkward as they share questioning glances and worrisome countenances. Even Raymond, who watches his daughter from behind. His hands clasp together in front of his mouth, elbows resting at the wood table. Before she’s finished, she says something in regard to her temper tantrum, blaming it on some sort of mismanaged anger inherited from her absent mother. Shrugging it off, she offers to try at this spontaneous dinner party another time, with promises to better control her temper the next time around. As if she had something to prove, a redemption of sorts. You’ll have to excuse me, you’ll find I can be quite the model hostess. Just like those women in the magazines!

He sees through her lies and false claims, knowing well the darkness that pools in the wells of her ocean eyes. They glimmer with something sinister, malicious, he knows it. Knows it in the way they lack genuineness when she smiles, or the way they stare daggers at him when she becomes antagonized. It’s amusing really, to toy with her like this. It’s all the sort of confirmation he needs to satisfy his theory.

The remainder of the evening picks up slowly on account of Drayton and Nancy’s small talk. Only before Raymond and Rebecca escort their newfound neighbors out for the night. Good wishes and farewells are exchanged as they wave goodbye. As that front door shuts Rebecca knows she’s in for it, her father turning to watch her with a disapproving utterance.

“You aughtta give me one good reason not to lock you inside this here farmhouse for good girl.”

“Daddy, please,” Rebecca looks frightened, shaking her head fervently as she follows her father into the kitchen like a duckling it’s mother. “It’s just an accident, it ain’t gon’ happen ‘gain.” She pleads with him, the habitual feeling of buried emotions surfacing all in an instant. She never took well to being scolded, it made her manic. Disappointment had not been something she could live with nor fathom, not from her father at least.

“Accident my ass, you ain’t even try to hold back on that boy Becca, goin’ on about a starin’ problem, you’ll get this family torn apart and we’ll have to move out all over again, you want that?”

“Now just what the hell were you thinkin’, boy?” Drayton smacks his palm against the upside of Johnny’s head, a hiss befalling the younger man’s lips as he shoots him a sharp glare. “Eggin’ on that girl — you gon’ get us in trouble just like the last time, not watchin’ that attitude of yours, you snot-nosed brat!”

“You best watch your tongue ‘round my boy cook, ‘lest I do away with you like I did with my husband.” Nancy mocks pointedly, raising her voice in a defensive manner. “Johnny it’s alright, accidents happen, we’ll get anythin’ we need cleaned up.”

“You’ll be in tomorrows stew if you ain’t get that boy of yours in check, he’s lucky her daddy ain’t raise no fit!”

“Get it together, I know damn well you ain’t wanna be the reason we pack up shop a second time.”

“Daddy, I swear it I’ll fix it just, I ain’t like that boy! He don’t mean well not one bit.”

“That girl, she ain’t right, in the head. I can see it. I feel it.”

“You keep that big mouth of yours shut ya’ heard me boy? Goin’ on about a young filly like her bein’ crazy or sum’, all cause you got trigger happy and fiddled with her temper.”

“Shut the damn hell up cook, you ain’t know shit.”

“Why you shithead,” Drayton groans, pulling on Johnny’s ear to bring him down to his level. “You listen to me boy, I ain’t wanna hear ‘bout this again! You apologize to that girl and that’s that. Don’t go causin’ anymore trouble, stay away from ‘er after that. Dumbass.”

“Hey! Get ya’ hands off my boy!” Nancy thwacks Drayton against the head, “I told you my Johnny ain’t do nothin’ wrong.”

“She ain’t right, y’all just don’t see it yet.” Yet.

“That boy ain’t do nothin’ to you, you makin’ up stories again girl. Ignore ‘em if he bothers you so bad. But you owe him and those Sawyer’s an apology, I ain’t about to loose some good ole’ fashioned neighbors over this drama of yours. You’s an adult, act like it young lady!” His voice is loud and angry, enough to quell her incessant arguing and disdainful thoughts.

“Yes, daddy. Anythin’ you say.” But he just ain’t all that nice.

Growing up in rural Oklahoma wasn’t all that much different than Texas. You had your farms; cattle, dairy, poultry, sheep and goats, and crops; mostly wheats and hays, corn, cotton, oftentimes sweet potatoes. They were fairly similar geographically, grasslands and flat plaines with the occasional hillside. Their people each had a certain southern charm to them, hospitality and benevolence at the heart of their every interaction. Texas was considerably more sizable than Oklahoma, though. And their people often outfaced one another on account of petty rivalries.

For Rebecca, much of the same had been true. Her father was a cattle farmer in the small sub district of Skiatook, settled right up on the outskirts of Tulsa. She was born on that farm and raised an only child with a hard working father and a transient mother.

Maggie Payne had an influence on her daughter that would far outlive her. Both negative and positive ascendencies, though the bad far outweigh the good. Rebecca remembers how as a young girl it was expected that she be the prim and proper southern woman, like something out of Gone with the Wind or Oklahoma!. Free of scandal or transgressions. A perfectly polite little lady with impeccable manners and a faultless smile. One wrong move would be met with the smack of her backhand across the cheek. A painful sting a young Rebecca would become accustomed to in her adolescence. Despite an ever longing curiosity for playing in the dirt and aiding her father in tending to the farmland and it’s animals, she remained indoors. A prime example of what a young woman should become. Maggie would teach her daughter how to be the picture perfect housewife, ensuring that one day, she’d make one lucky man the happiest alive.

Yet, Maggie would become the prime example of what an abysmal wife would look like. Haunted by the notion that she had been destined for a life of stardom and limelight, she resented her daughter for her beauty and grace, condemning her to a life of servitude as a homemaker, wed to a man to dictate her livelihood just as she had been. As time would pass and Rebecca’s beauty would continue to burgeon, Maggie’s treatment would only grow worse, as would her addiction to heroine.

Rebecca remembers watching her mother spiral into a life of despair and forlornness. Watching as she would bring home some backwoods tramp and fuck him in her own marital bed. She remembers watching the same man beat the shit out of her for stealing his dope. Remembers how her mother would sob something ugly and blame Rebecca, only so that she would get her ass beat in the same fashion. She remembers how her mother would cry when she’d catch those men with another woman, when they’d leave her for that other woman. She remembers watching her mother asphyxiate on her own vomit, multiple times. Remembers how she would help her mother’s lovers turn her over just so that she’d keep breathing. Remembers contemplating what would happen if she hadn’t saved her, how much life would have improved if she’d of just let her die then. A part of her wishes she did.

Years and years it would happen, time and time again, and as Rebecca blossomed into the fair lady she has become her mother’s vanity and envy only grew. As did her pathetic excuse for a life. Until Rebecca herself would become the woman of the house, tied to her father in the same manner her mother was supposed to be.

And then she remembers the day that all just stopped. A day of liberation and tranquility. What’s only two years ago now felt like an eternity of well-being compared to that hell on earth back in Tulsa.

It was hard to pinpoint how the move had affected her. Living in Tulsa had become much too difficult for her father, who struggled with the gossiping townsfolk in that small farming community. The result of a scandal of that nature became a heavy burden to withhold, and when he’d told her they’d be starting anew in Texas she knew exactly the reason behind his brash decision. But there’d always be a piece of her left in Oklahoma that she’d never get back. She didn’t have any friends or relatives to miss, they’d all left the moment her family went to shit. Yet, the thought of abandoning a childhood home to come someplace new was heartbreaking. To leave what was so familiar and comforting, a place that was supposed to be a home. Rebecca always worked hard to make it that way, but it was never really hers. She could never shake her mother’s hold in the place away. It would always be the home Maggie built, never mattered what Rebecca did.

Starting anew meant she had been given the opportunity to make her own home. In a place that was truly a blank slate. No influence from her mother, she could begin from the ground up. It would be a place where her talent and passion would truly shine, and she’d flourish in it. She always knew she was meant for homemaking.

That’s precisely what she had set out to do, too. Over the next couple weeks, Becca worked at making that big piece of farmland a beautiful little home. With the inside furnished and made to look neat and pristine, much like you’d see on advertisements or the newspaper. It was some sort of rustic chic, warm toned tans and browns combined with the clean-cut look of pure white linens. She’d adorned the place with flowers and photos, even went as far as to cut Maggie out of them all. Her favorite was kept over the fireplace in the den, a photograph of herself at six years old. Her hair done up in curls as she poses in a frilly white gown. She loved it. She’d always wanted to be a bride.

The exterior was where the real work had been needed, though. As Raymond prepped to take in herds of cattle in the coming weeks. Rebecca often found herself out there chopping wood or fixing up fences or troughs. She was always good with an axe, ever since she was a child and she’d sneak out to help her daddy. The wooden handles always felt so natural in her grasp, and she knew if push came to shove it would become a deadly weapon in her hands. She’d taken it upon herself to explore the land, too. Those adventures had led to some intriguing encounters. There had been dead animals, lots of them. Mangled and bloody with their innards torn out from their torsos, as if something had ripped them out with a knife. Miscellaneous scraps and bones, she’d even find some of them arranged in odd sorts of contraptions. Something used to catch the wildlife in the area, she was sure. For a few of them had even had dead bunnies or foxes in them. Half rotted and decaying with maggots crawling from their flesh. She’d clean them up and dispose of them properly, tossing the carcasses and bone scraps in the garbage for pickup on Tuesdays.

On several occasions she had run into the Sawyers. She’d catch Nancy working out in the fields or gardening in a luscious sunflower field. She never said hello. Similarly, Drayton could be seen snooping about the place and stealing glimpses of the work she and her father were doing. He’d watch, and usually when he realized he’d been caught looking he’d offer her a thumbs up and a cheeky grin. Only to scurry off back to his own property, presumably. They never really said much. Only came and went as soon as they’d been seen. As if they purposefully avoided others. She’d chalked it up to them being recluses, homebodies unaccustomed to others in their neck of the woods.

Sometimes, she’d exchange looks with a younger looking lady. Drayton did mention there were others. The woman’s blonde hair tied neatly in a bun, she wore some sort of black dress, much too short to frolic around in like she did. She’d prance about the yard giggling, and Rebecca did find her laugh annoying. In order to save face she would always smile and wave when the woman would look towards her. That woman never wove back. Only ceased her incessant laughter and fled like she was afraid. She supposed that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, though.

She’d often catch glimpses of shadows in the windows walking through the Sawyer residence too. There always seemed to be movement in there, like they were always up to something.

Then there was that Johnny.

He never stopped staring. Watching her like a cat would a mouse. He was persistent and tenacious, eerily concerned with her every move. Like he was waiting for her to slip up. Oftentimes he’d stare for a time, and just when she’d had enough, she would turn to yell something from across the field and he’d be gone. Then there had been the time at that swimming hole, too.

Someplace back behind the farmhouse and past the grasslands, a hillside dipped into a pool of warm spring water from the melted snow in winter. When she’d found it, she had been out looking for dead trees to cut down for wood by her lonesome. She set the axe down against an old stump before taking the initiative to undress herself down to her ivory undergarments and dip into the water. It was pleasantly chilling, a refreshment from the intensity of the blazing sun. She’d float there for some time, unbeknownst to his lingering gaze.

Her womanly figure captivates his audience. Caught in some eery trance by her half-naked body. Gentle curves glimmer in the blazing sun above, glowing like a true deity. Her midsection toned and tight, it contorts with her every movement. Teasing him with each careful gesture she makes, flaunting herself as though she’d known she was under his watchful eye.

It was only when she stepped out to redress that she caught glimpse of his familiar figure a short distance from the place. Her head snaps back round, this time sure she’s caught him red handed.

“The fuck you think you doin’, get lost, hood!”

“My my, don’t we act different when the old man ain’t around.”

Her anger seethes out of her, radiating in fiery hot waves from her tanned skin. Her stare is grisly, sliding into her bell bottoms as she buttons up the top.

“I’ll have you against this here blade if you don’t watch it boy, what’s your quarrel with me?”

“Ain’t know we couldn’t share the swimmin’ hole-”

“I ain’t dense shit face, now what the fuck you want, eh?”

“Ain’t you a pleasant one, tch.” He moves closer, approaching the water’s edge on the opposing side, and spits into the hole. “I ain’t know what you bitchin’ ‘bout, best calm yourself, wouldn’t want to burst that temper of yours.”

Rebecca grits her teeth, grinding them like gears. She loathes him, would love to blow his brains out right there — no — that’s too quick. She wants to split him in two with an axe.

“Alls I wanna know is why you think I ain’t notice that ugly outburst of yours.” He laughs, “you know, I’d hardly call it a temper tantrum.”

“Would’ya shut your trap? Fuck off and leave me alone, how ‘bout that?”

“Now it ain’t very gracious of you to not answer my question, after I so kindly obliged your own. S’not very ladylike.”

“Nah. I wanna know why the hell you starin’ at me all the damn time. Ain’t that momma of yours ever teach ya’ not to stare. Tsk.” She slips her blouse back on, “I’ll saw that pea brain of yours right out that head Johnny boy, you best watch it.”

“You dumb bitch.” Johnny only shakes his head, he doesn’t laugh or smile. He’s angry, more aggravated that she’s so attuned to his routine. “You’s a thorn in my side you know that? Can’t ya’ be like all the other girl’s and keep your mouth shut. Ya’ know most would love to have a man like me look at ‘em the way I do you. But you’s just won’t budge. Like to play hard to get.”

She didn’t like that, not one bit. Her hands ball into fists and she all most wants to do it, picking up that axe from the ground and gripping it in her hand. She can feel the uncanny urge to fillet that man in two. To do away with him, teach him a lesson he won’t soon forget. That habitual feeling resurfaces and she can feel herself about to snap. Just like she had at supper weeks before. She imagines what it would be like to have her way with him, slitting that thick neck of his and cutting up those veiny arms. She has to draw herself from her cognitions before she’s too far gone, the thought of it makes her all too giddy. “You wanna meet the devil boy? I’ll go tell that family of yours what type of man you’s really is.”

He only laughs, ugly, it’s an angry laugh. The tone of his demeanor becoming darker, deeper. “Ah, you pretty handy with that there wood splitter ain’t ya’? I seent it myself. Go ‘head, try it. I know you ain’t right in that there head of yours girl. You wanna chop me up? I don’t think that fits in your lil’ life of make believe. But go ‘head, come over here and swing at me, see how far that gets ya’.”

“Just what you think you sayin’ huh? You’s as stupid as you are oblivious. Boys like you ain’t no how to take a damn hint. I catch you starin’ one more time I swear I’ll be on your doorstep with a loaded shotgun.”

“Oh, so you’s that type?”

She doesn’t know what he’s insinuating but it sure ticks her off. She has to stop herself from loosing her composure, her deep breaths hitching in her throat as she begins to shake. It doesn’t go unnoticed by Johnny, whose pleased to see his tactics getting to her. Though still, she’s affronted his typical suave self and brought out his aggravation.

“You ain’t nothin’ but a spoiled man child used to gettin’ whatever he wants. Go back to momma and cry ‘bout how I made you upset, go on, get!”

“There it is, come on baby, come hit me!”

“I ain’t into greasy boys with momma issues, hood, tough shit. Get ya’ act together, ya’ look desperate.”

Rebecca turns to walk away, a scowl etched into those pretty features as she hikes up the hill. She may have been enraged, but she knows better to keep her head. Especially after the lecture her father had given her following her last blown fuse.

Her footsteps are an indication of that intense feeling of hatred and disgust, heavy and furious. She walks off in a heap of rage, only to leave behind an indignant and frenzied Johnny, who turns to stab his foot in the dirt with an irked yell.

She didn’t see him again after that, at least not what she could tell. But Johnny was always there with her in one way or another. She was certain he had continued to watch her, she’d known what his crepuscular gaze felt like, how it made her feel. Like she was completely and utterly vulnerable. That’s what she’d hated about it.

He reminded her of the men her mother often brought home, only more clean and cutthroat. But he was only the devil using the guise of an angel. He was the type of man that used his pretty face to prey on innocent women and break their hearts, the type to destroy a girl’s life or ruin marriages. She execrated him for it. Detested him with every fiber of her being. For his actions and egotistical behavior only proved that.

Rebecca would press on as normal after that encounter, working in the hard sun and traversing the land. She often found herself loosing track of time, Raymond calling her in for the night when he felt she’d taken work too far.

One night she had strolled down to where their edge of land bordered the Sawyer’s, nearly stepping on some metal footing that buzzed with an electric charge. It surprised her surely, but she’d found the concept to be an oddity. Electric exits and an antisocial family, they were a peculiar type of people. Though she’d chalked up there unusual means of defense as a way to keep their livestock in and the wildlife out. It made sense in a way, despite how eccentric it might have been.

She found that entire family to be anomalous, riding the line of what is socially standard and what was entirely bizarre. From their unconventional practices to their perplexing behaviors, it was something that hadn’t made a whole deal of logic. Nothing like what normal southerners would do or behave. The cause for concern was minimal, yet enough for Becca to keep a close eye on her surroundings and arise suspicions of those backasswards neighbors of theirs. Especially Johnny, who’d been the driving factor behind her cautious approach.

For about two weeks her routine remained the same, with little to no deviation in their crude ways and no sign of Johnny aside from the persistent feeling of leaden eyes watching her from afar. That she had been thankful for, but it would seem just as she’d let her guts down there that feeling was again. The eeriness of being stalked. It only strengthened that ugliness she felt for him. In that time the radiator on the pickup had blown too, leaving both she and her father without any proper means of transportation. Something she was looking at fixing in the coming days. But it was yet another thing to add to the aggravating headache that was this fixer-upper.

She had found herself out in the front of the house, splitting wood to fix the damned fences once again. Sweat beading on the flat of her forehead and dripping down the length of her face. She’d wipe her brow with slender fingers, the action pointless as the salt continued to fall into her eyes. Burning and stinging, but she’d keep at her labor despite the inconvenience. Muscles flexing and pumping full of warmth each time she’d swing the axe over her head. It would hit the log below with a crack and clunk. The sound of wood splitting in two and falling the ground, or the blade of that weapon smacking into the stump beneath it. It was a simple but tedious task, spanning into the long hours of the afternoon. After doing so for days though, time passed quickly and the labor barred no difficulty to that of cleaning a house or cooking supper.

She supposed she’d been too absorbed in the work, so much so she hasn’t noticed the sound of quick and heavy footsteps coming up the drive. Dirt kicking and rocks scratching against the boots of a man she’d yet to meet. He stood there from a fair distance, watching her work.

It was a spur of the moment thing, a momentary epiphany of enlightenment. She’d only stopped to wipe that damn sweat from her forehead, and happened to catch the image of a tall, wide figure standing up the road that led to the house. All most as soon as she’d seen it once, she’d snapped her head back to catch it again, and there it was. The man wore a mask of some sort that veiled his true features, a mask that looked much like flesh. Ugly and sinful, stitched together by the careless hand of a terrible seamstress. He donned a yellow apron, pink and red splatters fading on it's front. But perhaps the most striking thing of the image had been what he was wielding, a chainsaw.

[18-1-9]

Yoooooo dude you’d love my buddy Deltson here I’ll invite him over now, he’s a flayed corpse ceaselessly transuding accursed blood so like lay down some towels but he’s so dope. you should ask him to do his Ancient Scream. you should do that when he gets here you should ask him to do his Ancient Scream. you should do that. you’re gonna love him man he’ll probably bring some delta 8 too he’s chill like that

[bitchesluvsosaa]

Angel

transuding furies

[allthebrazilianpolitics]

Researchers conduct first-ever study to characterize microbiota in saliva of weaned piglets on commercial farms in Brazil

Bacteria of the phyla Firmicutes and Proteobacteria, including those of the genus Streptococcus, are the most common microorganisms found in the saliva of swine, which contains a different microbiota from swine feces and the environment in which the animals live. These were among the findings of a study by researchers at the University of São Paulo (USP) in Brazil and Pennsylvania State University in the United States. According to the researchers, this was the first study ever to characterize the microbial composition of the oral fluid, feces and environment of nursery piglets on commercial farms in Brazil. 

An article on the study is published in Scientific Reports. The findings will contribute to the identification of markers of gastrointestinal health in these animals, which produce almost 5 million metric tons of meat per year in Brazil.

The oral cavity is the gateway into the organism for many bacteria that affect the health of most animals, but it can also provide a solution to the problem. In humans, for example, the local microbiota (all microorganisms present in the environment and living in a symbiotic relationship with the host) is known to afford protection against external microorganisms.

The scientific literature contains few studies of the bacterial composition of the oral cavity in pigs, especially the oral fluid, a mixture of saliva and mucosal transudate (fluid derived from the passive transport of serum components through the oral mucosa into the mouth). This was the focus of the study in question, which FAPESP supported via two projects (17/22184-7 and 19/19473-2).

Continue reading.

[littleboxcat]

Peter Reads Egon's most personal & intimate journal entry yet.

This is a continuation of a fic I posted earlier on my tumblr page. I have not yet uploaded it onto AO3

Peter Fanned the pages scanning them for something savorer, or unsavory rather. His attention was snagged when Janine’s name appeared again. Hello, peter thought as he began to read.

Date: July 2nd

Janine and I are partaking in a viewing of Médée at The Met.

The Diva’s voice was how I would imagine the sirens sounded as they pulled their unwitting victims to their death in the Odyssey. Sadly, I find myself hooked. Janine’s hand was placed on my thigh. Did she notice my aroused state? I must conclude as the intermission is soon to be over.

“And then you took her home and made sweet love to her. C’mon Egon, land the plane will ya! Geez.” Peter was startled by his own voice. He had said that loud. He looked around dumbfounded and then continued.

Date: July 2nd

Time: 2:45am

It was in my aroused state that I have found myself in Janine’s humble abode having just experienced for the second time in my life a rite of passage.

Peters’ eyes nearly bulged out of his head. He read on.

Observations:

-Janine favors osculation.

-Tea on the tongue leads to interesting intermingling of flavors in the mouth whilst kissing.

-She is observant. (She did indeed notice my engorgement during the performance.)

- Janine experiences a full-face/(body?) flush when sexually piqued.

-Her skin is also warm to the touch.

-She has beautiful Clavicles.

-It is difficult for me to not notice the gentle slope to her full bosom and erect mammillia beneath her blouse.

- manual massage to them is favorable. Tongue and mouth are ideal.

- Aggressive when aroused.

Again, Peter stopped. He closed the book around his finger making sure to save the page. He peered down at his own crotch. Was he getting hard from reading about Egon’s sexcapades? Nah. He bounced his left knee and thought about Ghosts, dumb technical words he had heard Ray and Egon say, and slimer sliming him for the umpteenth time until he had maintained a neutral state. Peter re-read.

-Aggressive when aroused. 

I bet she was Spengs. It took you long enough to do her. I mean all that pining and no penetration, I mean com’on. Peter thought to himself as he continued to violate Egon’s privacy.

I have taken into account the magnitude of reactions to stimuli Janine experienced and have pinpointed approx. 5 actions to experiment with upon our next coital encounter.

For instance,

Frottage of my pants covered vascular engorgement against her vulva while clothed, yielded an unmeasurable amount of low viscosity vaginal fluid to be released. This liquid covered both the gusset of her undergarments and my fly area.

However, this may be a combination of both of our fluids as this act was quite pleasurable to myself as well. I did notice my own Cowper’s fluid leaking from the meatus during the act.

Ehk, Meatus?! What are you doing, having sex or makin’a hamburger? He chuckled breathlessly. Peter had made it a rule that if he needed a dictionary to read something, the book was probably going to be a snooze fest. He absolutely hated textbooks, one day someone would place all of the world’s books into a neat cassette tape that he could play in his Sony Walkman. They were already doing it with kids books in Teddy Ruxpin. Why not all books.

In Uni, anytime he needed to study, he would end up sleeping. He owed Egon for helping him get through grad school. Had it not been for his dear friend he would probably have dropped out. This was the first time Peter wanted to have a dictionary nearby. He decidedly called what Egon had written, scientific smut. Egon, ever the inventor.

I hypothesize that usage of a phalangeal digit may produce a similar reaction.

-perhaps usage of the tongue?

-Possible experimentation with foods. How does Janine’s diet effect the bouquet and palatableness of her vaginal transudate?

*It might be time to revisit Masters and Johnsons “Human sexual Response.” I should take a visit to the research library.

Despite the textbook nature of Egon’s journal, Peter still sported a simi-chub. This time he didn’t try to think it away. If it was gonna happen, let it happen. Besides, he was home alone.

Oral stimulation of Janine’s’ erect mammillia yielded audible approval.

(Her breathy squeaks did something to me. I did not last to penetration.)

-She moaned when I moved my hands against her undressed body.

-I would like to try using ice on the skin, possibly on her nipples. Will it increase Janine’s arousal state?

-I believe manual stimulation leading to full release approx. 2x prior to coitus will allowed me to extend the period of time with which my next orgasm will happen.  

-I will experiment with the thrust to ejaculate ratio (TER) as well as time between arousal states

-I postulate that the longer the period to time between my own release the more time is allotted for Janine’s Physiological and psychological arousal response.  

*She did state that she experienced full sexual release during our frottage episode.

-I penetrated Janine in the missionary position. I experienced a very clear heightened arousal state; quickened heart rate, flushed skin, slight throbbing in the genital region. Janine, however, requested to be on top. This produced deeper penetration. This also seemed to allow her to create the pacing. I observed a similar physiological response in her.

At this point, Peter had already unsheathed his hard-on from its jean prison and was lightly stroking along with the journal entry. Was he really going to do this while reading his friend’s very intimate, deeply personal thoughts. Yes. Yes he was and no one had to know. Just he and Egon’s journal and the office. Slimer was nowhere at the moment. Besides, it had been a minute since his last tryst and as nerdy as the entry was, it was doing it for him. He continued stroking and reading.

-Her moans were more low and elongated.

- I did not last long, neither did she. This was my first time experiencing a form of Kabzah.

-Female orgasm is not dissimilar to the male. An inverse of rhythmic contractions from the inner vascular walls similar to my own corpus spasm without the outward release of seminal fluid.

*Is squirting possible?

- I would also like to test which position during active Penile/Vaginal interaction (PVI) yields the longest coital connection and which produces the highest pleasure response in Janine.

*Note to self, study more on tantra. I might need to brush up on my Sanskrit. I have my work cut out for me.

Writing this has caused me to become aroused yet again. Perhaps I will have the opportunity to try one of my hypotheses now.

Peter was already on his last few strokes. He was not paying attention to the journal anymore; or the door to the lab for that matter.  His eyes closed tight as he pumped himself faster. A dark figure stood in the door frame. Peter climaxed with an audible grunt spurting into his own hand; Panting as he opened his eyes to see Egon standing there in the doorway. Huffing. straight faced. Eyes wide. Eyebrow low. For a hot moment the silence stretched on for eons. The silence lasted until the eventual heat death of the universe, at least in Peter’s mind, which had ceased to function.

“OH MY GOD! I’M SORRY! I’M SO SORRY!”

Peter shouted as he grabbed a pillow from the couch absentmindedly holding it in front of himself with his cummy hand.

“I now understand the adage feeling your blood boil.”

Egon stated matter of factually, in a calm and cold way.

“Spengs I can explain.”

“Don’t. I wouldn’t want you to debase yourself.”

“I…I’m just gonna go. I—I’ll clean the pillow.”

Peter Lowered his head and cowered making himself look small. He quickly pushed himself back into his pants and backed out of the lab leaving the journal on the couch and the mop laying on the ground. Egon was still silent as if processing. Egon turned slowly toward Peter, still cold and calculated he spoke.

“Peter, I’m not angry with you. I am pissed with myself. I should have known better than expecting anything better of you.”

“Hey! Wait a Minute.--”

Peter stopped; Egon’s words hurt but he deserved it. Still, It felt like Egon was a parent who was deeply disappointed in a son. He didn’t view his friend as a father but he knew this particular kind of shame.

“I really am sorry. I knew what I was doing was wrong, but I did it anyway. Can you find it in your heart to forgive me big guy?”

Egon sighed. His face softened. He lifted his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose with his thumb and pointer.

“I need some time to think about it Peter.”

He stated as he shut the door in peters face.

Authors note: It would take Egon some time to get over this but that’s a story for a different day.

[clonedadplo]

Eater, little eater

Takes from me without reserve 

Together we feast on that we don't deserve 

Eat fast, fast eater 

Take my child, take my body 

Sever the root of hope and boil it down

Give to me loneliness, steamed and ripe

Now fast, fast eater 

Your hunger. Divine. 

Eater, big eater 

So small but such an appetite

Such suffering, our bellies ache as we fight

Eat fast, cruel eater 

Punish us who cannot provide 

So much smoke and tears I will give to you

My penance does not fill your stomach one drop

Cruel fast, fast eater

Your hunger. Sheer pain.

Eater, whole eater 

Swallow swallow. Swallow rhythm, swallow rhyme

Tear out the heart of me and put it to page

Burn me inside for a well cooked feast 

Squeeze out the transudate to rinse your throat.

My own is a charcoal tube, never to sing again. 

The pace matters no more, the song is dead.

This cantor sacrifices his music upon your alter

And so an ugly prose rears its head

Little eater rears their head

Eater, little eater 

Take from me without reserve 

Today you may feast on that you don't deserve

Crappy slide photos from me, ask if you are interested in what they are.

[20k-leagues-speedrun]

CHAPTER XIX TORRES STRAITS

During the night of the 27th or 28th of December, the Nautilus left the shores of Vanikoro with great speed. Her course was south-westerly, and in three days she had gone over the 750 leagues that separated it from La Perouse’s group and the south-east point of Papua.

Early on the 1st of January, 1863, Conseil joined me on the platform.

“Master, will you permit me to wish you a happy New Year?”

“What! Conseil; exactly as if I was at Paris in my study at the Jardin des Plantes? Well, I accept your good wishes, and thank you for them. Only, I will ask you what you mean by a ‘Happy New Year’ under our circumstances? Do you mean the year that will bring us to the end of our imprisonment, or the year that sees us continue this strange voyage?”

“Really, I do not know how to answer, master. We are sure to see curious things, and for the last two months we have not had time for dullness. The last marvel is always the most astonishing; and, if we continue this progression, I do not know how it will end. It is my opinion that we shall never again see the like. I think then, with no offence to master, that a happy year would be one in which we could see everything.”

On 2nd January we had made 11,340 miles, or 5,250 French leagues, since our starting-point in the Japan Seas. Before the ship’s head stretched the dangerous shores of the coral sea, on the north-east coast of Australia. Our boat lay along some miles from the redoubtable bank on which Cook’s vessel was lost, 10th June, 1770. The boat in which Cook was struck on a rock, and, if it did not sink, it was owing to a piece of coral that was broken by the shock, and fixed itself in the broken keel.

I had wished to visit the reef, 360 leagues long, against which the sea, always rough, broke with great violence, with a noise like thunder. But just then the inclined planes drew the Nautilus down to a great depth, and I could see nothing of the high coral walls. I had to content myself with the different specimens of fish brought up by the nets. I remarked, among others, some germons, a species of mackerel as large as a tunny, with bluish sides, and striped with transverse bands, that disappear with the animal’s life.

These fish followed us in shoals, and furnished us with very delicate food. We took also a large number of gilt-heads, about one and a half inches long, tasting like dorys; and flying pyrapeds like submarine swallows, which, in dark nights, light alternately the air and water with their phosphorescent light. Among the molluscs and zoophytes, I found in the meshes of the net several species of alcyonarians, echini, hammers, spurs, dials, cerites, and hyalleae. The flora was represented by beautiful floating seaweeds, laminariae, and macrocystes, impregnated with the mucilage that transudes through their pores; and among which I gathered an admirable Nemastoma Geliniarois, that was classed among the natural curiosities of the museum.

Two days after crossing the coral sea, 4th January, we sighted the Papuan coasts. On this occasion, Captain Nemo informed me that his intention was to get into the Indian Ocean by the Strait of Torres. His communication ended there.

The Torres Straits are nearly thirty-four leagues wide; but they are obstructed by an innumerable quantity of islands, islets, breakers, and rocks, that make its navigation almost impracticable; so that Captain Nemo took all needful precautions to cross them. The Nautilus, floating betwixt wind and water, went at a moderate pace. Her screw, like a cetacean’s tail, beat the waves slowly.

Profiting by this, I and my two companions went up on to the deserted platform. Before us was the steersman’s cage, and I expected that Captain Nemo was there directing the course of the Nautilus. I had before me the excellent charts of the Straits of Torres, and I consulted them attentively. Round the Nautilus the sea dashed furiously. The course of the waves, that went from south-east to north-west at the rate of two and a half miles, broke on the coral that showed itself here and there.

“This is a bad sea!” remarked Ned Land.

“Detestable indeed, and one that does not suit a boat like the Nautilus.”

“The Captain must be very sure of his route, for I see there pieces of coral that would do for its keel if it only touched them slightly.”

Indeed the situation was dangerous, but the Nautilus seemed to slide like magic off these rocks. It did not follow the routes of the Astrolabe and the Zelee exactly, for they proved fatal to Dumont d’Urville. It bore more northwards, coasted the Islands of Murray, and came back to the south-west towards Cumberland Passage. I thought it was going to pass it by, when, going back to north-west, it went through a large quantity of islands and islets little known, towards the Island Sound and Canal Mauvais.

I wondered if Captain Nemo, foolishly imprudent, would steer his vessel into that pass where Dumont d’Urville’s two corvettes touched; when, swerving again, and cutting straight through to the west, he steered for the Island of Gilboa.

It was then three in the afternoon. The tide began to recede, being quite full. The Nautilus approached the island, that I still saw, with its remarkable border of screw-pines. He stood off it at about two miles distant. Suddenly a shock overthrew me. The Nautilus just touched a rock, and stayed immovable, laying lightly to port side.

When I rose, I perceived Captain Nemo and his lieutenant on the platform. They were examining the situation of the vessel, and exchanging words in their incomprehensible dialect.

She was situated thus: Two miles, on the starboard side, appeared Gilboa, stretching from north to west like an immense arm. Towards the south and east some coral showed itself, left by the ebb. We had run aground, and in one of those seas where the tides are middling—a sorry matter for the floating of the Nautilus. However, the vessel had not suffered, for her keel was solidly joined. But, if she could neither glide off nor move, she ran the risk of being for ever fastened to these rocks, and then Captain Nemo’s submarine vessel would be done for.

I was reflecting thus, when the Captain, cool and calm, always master of himself, approached me.

“An accident?” I asked.

“No; an incident.”

“But an incident that will oblige you perhaps to become an inhabitant of this land from which you flee?”

Captain Nemo looked at me curiously, and made a negative gesture, as much as to say that nothing would force him to set foot on terra firma again. Then he said:

“Besides, M. Aronnax, the Nautilus is not lost; it will carry you yet into the midst of the marvels of the ocean. Our voyage is only begun, and I do not wish to be deprived so soon of the honour of your company.”

“However, Captain Nemo,” I replied, without noticing the ironical turn of his phrase, “the Nautilus ran aground in open sea. Now the tides are not strong in the Pacific; and, if you cannot lighten the Nautilus, I do not see how it will be reinflated.”

“The tides are not strong in the Pacific: you are right there, Professor; but in Torres Straits one finds still a difference of a yard and a half between the level of high and low seas. To-day is 4th January, and in five days the moon will be full. Now, I shall be very much astonished if that satellite does not raise these masses of water sufficiently, and render me a service that I should be indebted to her for.”

Having said this, Captain Nemo, followed by his lieutenant, redescended to the interior of the Nautilus. As to the vessel, it moved not, and was immovable, as if the coralline polypi had already walled it up with their in destructible cement.

“Well, sir?” said Ned Land, who came up to me after the departure of the Captain.

“Well, friend Ned, we will wait patiently for the tide on the 9th instant; for it appears that the moon will have the goodness to put it off again.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“And this Captain is not going to cast anchor at all since the tide will suffice?” said Conseil, simply.

The Canadian looked at Conseil, then shrugged his shoulders.

“Sir, you may believe me when I tell you that this piece of iron will navigate neither on nor under the sea again; it is only fit to be sold for its weight. I think, therefore, that the time has come to part company with Captain Nemo.”

“Friend Ned, I do not despair of this stout Nautilus, as you do; and in four days we shall know what to hold to on the Pacific tides. Besides, flight might be possible if we were in sight of the English or Provencal coast; but on the Papuan shores, it is another thing; and it will be time enough to come to that extremity if the Nautilus does not recover itself again, which I look upon as a grave event.”

“But do they know, at least, how to act circumspectly? There is an island; on that island there are trees; under those trees, terrestrial animals, bearers of cutlets and roast beef, to which I would willingly give a trial.”

“In this, friend Ned is right,” said Conseil, “and I agree with him. Could not master obtain permission from his friend Captain Nemo to put us on land, if only so as not to lose the habit of treading on the solid parts of our planet?”

“I can ask him, but he will refuse.”

“Will master risk it?” asked Conseil, “and we shall know how to rely upon the Captain’s amiability.”

To my great surprise, Captain Nemo gave me the permission I asked for, and he gave it very agreeably, without even exacting from me a promise to return to the vessel; but flight across New Guinea might be very perilous, and I should not have counselled Ned Land to attempt it. Better to be a prisoner on board the Nautilus than to fall into the hands of the natives.

At eight o’clock, armed with guns and hatchets, we got off the Nautilus. The sea was pretty calm; a slight breeze blew on land. Conseil and I rowing, we sped along quickly, and Ned steered in the straight passage that the breakers left between them. The boat was well handled, and moved rapidly.

Ned Land could not restrain his joy. He was like a prisoner that had escaped from prison, and knew not that it was necessary to re-enter it.

“Meat! We are going to eat some meat; and what meat!” he replied. “Real game! no, bread, indeed.”

“I do not say that fish is not good; we must not abuse it; but a piece of fresh venison, grilled on live coals, will agreeably vary our ordinary course.”

“Glutton!” said Conseil, “he makes my mouth water.”

“It remains to be seen,” I said, “if these forests are full of game, and if the game is not such as will hunt the hunter himself.”

“Well said, M. Aronnax,” replied the Canadian, whose teeth seemed sharpened like the edge of a hatchet; “but I will eat tiger—loin of tiger—if there is no other quadruped on this island.”

“Friend Ned is uneasy about it,” said Conseil.

“Whatever it may be,” continued Ned Land, “every animal with four paws without feathers, or with two paws without feathers, will be saluted by my first shot.”

“Very well! Master Land’s imprudences are beginning.”

“Never fear, M. Aronnax,” replied the Canadian; “I do not want twenty-five minutes to offer you a dish, of my sort.”

At half-past eight the Nautilus boat ran softly aground on a heavy sand, after having happily passed the coral reef that surrounds the Island of Gilboa.

[royalinterior01]

Interior design company in Coimbatore Royal Interior

Transforming Spaces with Luxury Interior Design in Coimbatore

Coimbatore,  frequently hailed as the Manchester of South India, is  fleetly evolving into a  mecca for luxury living. This metamorphosis isn't just confined to the growth of plush domestic areas but extends to the burgeoning assiduity of luxury innards design. feeding to the elite and those with a  partiality for refined aesthetics, Best interior design company in Coimbatore contrivers in Coimbatore are setting new  norms in  substance, creativity, and comfort. These contrivers blend contemporary styles with traditional  fineness,  icing every  design tells a unique story of  complication and functionality.  

The  substance of  luxury innards design lies in its attention to detail and the bespoke nature of each  design. Interior design company in Coimbatore understand this principle, casting  substantiated spaces that reflect the individual tastes and  cultures of their  guests. From sourcing the finest accoutrements  to employing the  rearmost design technologies, these professionals leave no gravestone unturned in creating innards that  transude luxury. The use of  decoration  fabrics,  fantastic   forestland, and custom- made furnishings ensures that every element within the space speaks of quality and exclusivity.  

Innovation and creativity are at the heart of  Low budget interior designers in Coimbatore. Contrivers then are known for their capability to blend  ultramodern aesthetics with traditional Indian  rudiments, creating a harmonious balance that appeals to a different clientele. Whether it's a lavish  manor in the cities or a  sharp apartment in the  megacity center, these contrivers bring a touch of  fineness and  majesty to every  design. The emphasis on sustainable andeco-friendly designs is also notable, as  numerous contrivers incorporate green  structure practices and environmentally conscious accoutrements , aligning luxury with sustainability.

  In Coimbatore, Luxury interior designers in Coimbatore aren't just  generators of beautiful spaces but also janitors of  gests . They understand that true luxury isn't just about visual appeal but also about how a space feels and functions. By  fastening on aspects  similar as lighting, acoustics, and ergonomics, these contrivers  insure that their  systems  give an  unequaled  living experience. The result is a  megacity dotted with homes and  marketable spaces that aren't only aesthetically pleasing but also offer a  life of comfort,  fineness, and  complication.

Portfolio: https://royalinterior.co/

[drmsskeerthi]

Lung Cancer surgeon in Hyderabad

If you are searching for the best lung cancer surgeon in Hyderabad, then you have come to the right place. Dr. M.S.S Keerthi is asurgical Oncologist in Hyderabad with a over 15+ years of experience in lung cancer disease, she has performed more than 3000+ lung cancer surgeries. She is currently working as a Senior Consultant Surgical Oncologist, laparoscopic and robotic Surgeon at Tulasi Hospital and Evoke Clinic in Secunderabad, Telangana.

Choosing Dr. M.S.S Keerthi for the lung cancer treatment in Hyderabad will be profitable as she take personal care for the patients suffering from lung cancer.

Lung Cancer:​

Lung cancer is a complex disease with various types and stages, necessitating a range of treatment options tailored to individual cases. The choice of treatment is determined by factors such as the type and stage of the cancer, the patient’s overall health, and their preferences. 

Types of lung cancer

There two types of lung cancer that include:

Non-small cell lung cancer (NSCLC): This is the most common type, comprising about 85% of lung cancers. Subtypes include adenocarcinoma, squamous cell carcinoma, and large cell carcinoma.

Small cell lung cancer (SCLC): Although less common, SCLC tends to grow and spread more quickly than NSCLC.

Causes of lung cancer:

Dr M.S.S Keerthi is best cancer specialist in Hyderabad, explains the causes of lung cancer that includes:

Smoking: Tobacco smoking, including cigarettes, cigars, and pipes, is the leading cause of lung cancer. It’s responsible for the maturity of cases.

Secondary Smoke: Exposure to smoke from other people’s cigarettes, cigars, or pipes can also increase the threat of lung cancer.

Radon Gas: Inhalation of radon, a naturally being radioactive gas that can transude into structures, is another significant cause.

Asbestos: Exposure to asbestos filaments, frequently in workplaces like construction spots or ockyards, increases the threat of lung cancer.

Air Pollution: Dragged exposure to high levels of air pollution, both out-of-door and inner, can contribute to lung cancer threat.

Family History and Genetic Predisposition: A family history of lung cancer and certain inheritable factors can increase an existent’s vulnerability to the disease

Symptoms:

Lung cancer can exhibit a wide range of symptoms, which are important to recognize for early detection and timely treatment:

Persistent Cough: A chronic cough that persists for several weeks or months, especially if it worsens over time. Coughing can be a response to irritation or obstruction caused by a tumor in the airways.

Coughing up Blood (Hemoptysis): Coughing up blood, even in small amounts, is a concerning symptom that should not be ignored. It can be an indicator of lung cancer, as tumors can damage blood vessels in the airways.

Chest Pain: Lung cancer can cause chest pain, often characterized by a dull ache or sharp discomfort. This pain may be felt deep within the chest or under the ribs.

Shortness of Breath (Dyspnea): Difficulty breathing or shortness of breath is a common symptom, particularly in advanced stages of lung cancer when the tumor affects airway function or spreads to the pleura (lining of the lung).

Unexplained Weight Loss: Significant and unintentional weight loss can be an alarming sign of lung cancer. Cancer-related weight loss is often due to metabolic changes and a loss of appetite.

Fatigue: Unexplained fatigue and weakness can result from the body’s response to cancer. The disease can divert energy and resources away from normal body functions.

Hoarseness: A change in the voice, such as persistent hoarseness, can be a symptom of lung cancer when the tumor affects the recurrent laryngeal nerve or invades nearby structures.

Recurrent Lung Infections: Frequent lung infections, such as bronchitis or pneumonia, can be a sign of lung cancer. Tumors can block airways, making it easier for infections to take hold.

Wheezing: Wheezing is a high-pitched whistling sound while breathing and may be associated with the narrowing of airways due to a tumor.

It’s important to note that these symptoms can also be caused by other, non-cancerous conditions. However, if you experience any of these symptoms, especially if they persist or worsen, it’s essential to consult with a  experienced oncologist like Dr. M.S.S Keerthi .

Diagnosis:

According to Dr.M.S.S Keerthi diagnosing of lung cancer involves a series of tests and procedures to confirm the presence of cancer and determine its specific characteristics:

Chest X-rays: Chest X-rays are often the first step in screening for lung abnormalities. They provide a basic overview of the lungs and may reveal the presence of tumors or abnormalities.

CT Scans: Computed Tomography (CT) scans are more detailed and can provide cross-sectional images of the lungs, allowing healthcare professionals to assess the size, location, and characteristics of any detected masses.

Biopsy: A biopsy is the gold standard for confirming a lung cancer diagnosis. During a biopsy, a small sample of tissue is obtained from the suspected tumor for examination by a pathologist. This helps determine the type and stage of cancer.

Staging: Once diagnosed, lung cancer is staged to determine the extent of its spread. Staging involves assessing the primary tumor’s size, lymph node involvement, and the presence of distant metastases. Staging ranges from 0 (localized) to IV (advanced/metastatic), which guides treatment decisions. Staging helps oncologists select the most appropriate treatment plan and predict prognosis.

Proper diagnosis is critical for creating an effective treatment strategy tailored to the individual patient’s needs.

Treatment Options:

As per ,Dr. M.S.S Keerthi treatment options for lung cancer are diverse and are chosen based on the cancer type, stage, patient’s overall health, and other factors. Here’s a more detailed overview of the main treatment options:

Surgery: Surgical removal of the tumor and surrounding tissue is a common approach for early-stage lung cancer. The specific procedure used depends on the tumor’s location and size. Surgical options include lobectomy (removal of a lobe of the lung), pneumonectomy (removal of an entire lung), wedge resection (removal of a small portion of the lung), and video-assisted thoracoscopic surgery (VATS), a minimally invasive technique.

Radiation Therapy: Radiation therapy uses high-energy X-rays to target and destroy cancer cells. It’s employed for various stages of lung cancer. External beam radiation is the standard approach, while stereotactic body radiation therapy (SBRT) is used for early-stage tumors, delivering precise and highly focused radiation in a few sessions.

Chemotherapy: Chemotherapy involves the use of drugs to kill or inhibit rapidly dividing cancer cells. It’s employed in various stages of lung cancer. The choice of chemotherapy agents depends on the cancer type. First-line chemotherapy is the primary treatment, and second-line chemotherapy may be used if the initial treatment is ineffective.

Targeted Therapy: Targeted therapy medications are designed to interfere with specific molecular abnormalities in cancer cells. EGFR inhibitors target the epidermal growth factor receptor, while ALK inhibitors target the anaplastic lymphoma kinase gene. These treatments are particularly effective in cases with specific genetic mutations.

Immunotherapy: Immunotherapy is an innovative approach that stimulates the patient’s immune system to recognize and attack cancer cells. Checkpoint inhibitors, such as PD-1 and PD-L1 inhibitors, can block proteins that inhibit the immune response. CAR-T cell therapy is a groundbreaking treatment that involves genetically modifying a patient’s  cells to specifically target cancer cells.

These treatment options are often used in combination or sequentially, and the choice of treatment is highly individualized. The patient’s oncology team considers factors such as cancer type, stage, overall health, and genetic markers to create a tailored treatment plan.

Surgical Procedures:

Surgery is a critical component of lung cancer treatment, especially for early-stage cancers. Different surgical procedures are used based on the tumor’s characteristics:

Lobectomy: A lobectomy involves removing one of the five lobes of the lung. This procedure is commonly used for early-stage lung cancer when the tumor is confined to one lobe. The remaining lung tissue can compensate for the lost lobe’s function.

Pneumonectomy: In cases where the cancer is larger or affects the entire lung, a pneumonectomy may be necessary. This procedure involves the complete removal of one lung. It’s a more extensive surgery with a more significant impact on lung function.

Wedge Resection: For small, localized tumors that are peripherally located in the lung, a wedge resection may be performed. This procedure removes a small, wedge-shaped portion of lung tissue containing the tumor while preserving the majority of lung function.

Video-Assisted Thoracoscopic Surgery (VATS): VATS is a minimally invasive surgical technique used for various lung cancer procedures. It involves small incisions and the use of a video camera to guide the surgeon. VATS often results in less postoperative pain and faster recovery compared to traditional open surgery.

Surgical decisions are made based on the tumor’s size, location, and stage, as well as the patient’s overall health and lung function. Surgical outcomes can vary, and the surgeon aims to balance cancer removal with preserving as much healthy lung tissue as possible.

Supportive Care:

Supportive care is an integral part of managing lung cancer, focusing on the overall well-being and quality of life of the patient. Here’s a closer look at supportive care:

Smoking Cessation: For patients diagnosed with lung cancer, quitting smoking is a crucial step in preventing further damage to the lungs and improving overall health. Support and resources are available to help patients overcome addiction.

Pulmonary Rehabilitation: Pulmonary rehabilitation is a structured program that helps patients with lung cancer improve lung function and overall physical fitness. It includes exercises, education on lung health, and strategies for managing symptoms.

Palliative Care: Palliative care is a specialized medical approach focused on symptom management, pain relief, and improving the quality of life for patients with advanced-stage lung cancer. It can be provided alongside curative treatments and is not limited to end-of-life care. Palliative care aims to address physical, emotional, and psychological aspects of the patient’s well-being.

Incorporating supportive care alongside curative treatments can help patients cope with the physical and emotional challenges of lung cancer, enhance their comfort, and improve their overall quality of life.

Why Choose Dr MSS Keerthi for Lung Cancer Treatment in Hyderabad:-

Expert Oncologist: Dr.M.S.S. Keerthi, an accomplished surgical oncologist with over 15 years of experience, specializes in vibrant cancer surgeries. Her expertise, especially in Lung Cancer treatment, stems from her specialization in Surgical Oncology at the Cancer Institute.

State-of-the-Art Facility: The citation of a state- of- the- art facility suggests that the medical structure where, Dr.M.S.S. Keerthi practices are equipped with improved technologies and ultra modern amenities. And other installations like wheelchair accessible, cleaned toilets and proper consulting rooms.

Clinic Location: Dr. M.S.S. Keerthi practices at Tulasi Hospital and Evoke Clinic in Secunderabad, Telangana.

Diagnostic Services under one Roof: The availability of diagnostic services in the same facility can streamline the individual process for patients. Having all necessary experiments and services like stomach cancer treatment, esophagus cancer treatment, & targeted therapy in one position may conduct to a more effective and coordinated path to diagnosis and treatment planning.

Experienced & Trained Staff: Dr. M.S.S. Keerthi is supported by experienced and trained staff, which implies a collaborative and well-coordinated approach to patient care.

Personal Care, Every Time: Dr. M.S.S. Keerthi is noted for her compassionate and tailored approach to patient care, which includes listening to patients’ concerns and working closely with them to establish personalized treatment programs.

Book An Appointment:-

Dr. MSS Keerthi  provides the best treatment for various cancer diseases in Secunderabad and Hyderabad. For more information about our comprehensive treatment options, or to request an appointment with the best surgical oncologist in Secunderabad, Hyderabad call +91 94908 08080 or Click on Book Appointment for online booking

[sourav2004]

Your Comfort, Your Style: Men's Bathrobe Essentials

Comfort and style constantly attend in the world of men’s fashion. The simple bathrobe serves as a high illustration of this combination. rather than just having functions, it also can indicate your personality and style. still, how do you choose the right bone? Does that satisfy all conditions for comfort, voguishness, and practicality?

Enter into the realm of men’s bathrobes and understand how to choose a mannish bone that will make you feel like majesty while you take your rest.

Different Kinds of Bathrobe Fabrics

There are numerous choices available regarding accouterments used for bathrobes for men. Different fabrics include plush terrycloth for maximum absorption or feathery cotton for warmer days. suppose about breathability, wimpiness, and soundness among other factors to find fabric that matches your preferences.

Length is pivotal Short vs Long Bathrobes

The length of your mask has an important influence on its comfort as well as its style. For case, short robes are easy to move around in making them perfect for hot climates whereas long bones offer spare content and warmth; ideal for chilly mornings or just lounging around with class singly.

Hoodedvs. Capelet Collar, Which Style Suits You?

Bathrobe necklines are always making a statement. When it comes to hooded robes, they produce a sense of informality and spare warmth; but shawl collar robes on the other hand transude complication and dateless fineness. This is where you can handpick a commodity that aligns with your aesthetic.

Wrapped or Buttoned Securing Your Mask

The check medium of your bathrobe is essential for icing a snug fit and preventing any wardrobe malfunctions. Do you prefer wrapped minidresses that have malleable closures? There is also the option of button- up minidresses which are quick to fasten and give a satiny look.

Considering Pockets Utility and Convenience

Pockets may feel like such an insignificant point, yet they go a long way in enhancing the practical aspect of your bathrobe. When choosing one, make sure it has large pockets for ease when you want to carry your snacks, remote control, or phone around.

Weight and Viscosity Chancing the Right Balance

When considering weight, thickness, or heaviness in terms of comfort and felicity across different seasons; there are two types of bathrobes those that are heavier for farther warmth during time-out months while lighter bones breathe well ideal for summer. Try figuring out what works best for you.

Embellishments and stresses Adding faculty

inflated ensigns or differing channels among others could be used as embellishment options to enhance your bathrobe’s look while at the same time transferring out some communication about style preferences. nonetheless, make wise choices in order not to overdo stress.

Conservation Tips Making Sure Your Mask Stays Fresh

Taking care of your bathrobe rightly will help stretch its life. Observe the manufacturer’s guidelines to avoid loss or any other form of damage while washing and drying, and occasionally state your mask to keep it smelling nice.

Where to Buy Considering the Options

The appearance of online shopping has made it possible to buy men’s bathrobes in multitudinous ways. Discover reliable merchandisers, as well as go through some reviews that would lead you to find just the right mask. Look out for brands analogous to Rangoli Furnishings known for producing quality robes customized with attention to detail and comfort.

Conclusion Indulge Yourself in Style and Comfort

Choosing an applicable bathrobe is not just a matter of having commodity thrown over your post-shower; rather, it's about enjoying both style and comfort daily. A great way of getting a mask that can be worn as part of casual wear and tear and gash involves assessing various factors analogous to material, length, design, and ease of conservation.

Source- https//shoprangoli.in/ collections/ bathrobes

[drvandanarajputupwanshi]

6 Types Of Cosmetic Dentistry To Improve Your Smile

Welcome to our guide on six cosmetic dentistry treatments to improve your smile and boost confidence. In today’s world, a charming smile isn’t only a testament to beauty but also reflects one’s personality and self-assurance. Thanks to advancements in dental technology, achieving your ideal smile has become more accessible than ever ahead. From the continuity of dental implants to the personalized touch of smile makeovers, our acclimatized results cater to every concern. Discover how these treatments elevate not only the appearance but also the functionality and overall health of your smile. Whether it’s brightening teeth,aligning misalignments, or addressing imperfections, cosmetic dentistry under the best dentist in Dhantoli Dr. Vandana Upwanshi’s experience empowers you to transude confidence with your most radiant smile

Dental Implants:

Dental implants are artificial tooth roots made of titanium that are surgically placed into the jawbone beneath the gums. They serve as sturdy anchors for replacement teeth or bridges. Over time, the bone fuses with the implant, providing a stable foundation for artificial teeth. Dental implants offer a durable, long-term result for missing teeth, restoring functionality and aesthetics while conserving bone structure and precluding further dental issues. They’re considered one of the most dependable and effective techniques for replacing missing teeth in ultramodern dentistry.

Smile Makeover:

A smile makeover is a customized treatment plan aimed to address multiple cosmetic concerns and improve the overall appearance of the smile. This comprehensive approach may include a combination of procedures similar to teeth whitening, porcelain veneers, orthodontic treatment, gum reshaping, and more, depending on the existent’s specific requirements and aims. By incorporating various ways, a smile makeover aims to enhance the color, shape, alignment, and symmetry of the teeth, performing a harmonious and aesthetically pleasing smile. Whether correcting minor defects or fully transforming the smile, a smile makeover can boost confidence and restore self-esteem, eventually providing patients with a radiant and confident smile they can be proud of.

Teeth Whitening:

Teeth whitening is a popular cosmetic dentistry treatment set at brightening and enhancing the appearance of teeth that have become stained or discolored over time. This procedure can be performed either in the department by a dental professional or at home utilizing dentist-prescribed kits. Through the use of bleaching agents, like as hydrogen peroxide or carbamide peroxide, teeth-whitening treatments effectively break down spots and lighten the color of the teeth. Whether addressing surface spots from coffee, tea, or tobacco or another natural discoloration due to growing or specifics, teeth whitening can significantly upgrade the common appearance of the smile, boosting confidence and self-esteem in the process.

Dental Crowns & Bridges:

Dental crowns and bridges are versatile restorative results exercised to manipulate damaged or missing teeth, perfecting the smile’s appearance and functionality. Crowns are custom-made caps that are placed over individual teeth to regenerate their shape, size, energy, and appearance. They are usually used to cover weak or cracked teeth, dental implants, or newsreader dental bridges. Bridges, on the other phase, are prosthetic biases exercised to replace one or further missing teeth by anchoring artificial teeth to conterminous natural teeth or implants. Filling gaps and repairing proper dental alignment, crown and bridges not only ameliorate the aesthetics of the smile but also promote optimal vocal health and function.

Tooth Color Filings:

Tooth-colored fillings, also known as compound fillings, are a modern volition to traditional metal fillings. Made of a durable resin substance that closely matches the color of natural teeth, these fillings are applied to repair cavities, chipped teeth, and minor dental defects. Unlike metal paddings, tooth-colored fillings blend seamlessly with the surrounding tooth structure, delivering a more natural-looking result. This aesthetic advantage makes them particularly popular for visible areas of the mouth. also, composite fillings bond directly to the tooth, helping to support its structure and reduce the threat of coming decay. Overall, tooth-color fillings offer both ornamental and functional benefits, allowing patients to maintain a healthy, seductive smile.

Orthodontic Treatment:

Orthodontic treatment involves the use of braces or clear aligners to unbend teeth, accurate bite effects, and enhance the overall alignment of the smile. Traditional braces use brackets and wires to gradually transfer teeth into their asked positions, while clear aligners, extend a more discreet and removable volition. Orthodontic treatment can manipulate various dental enterprises, involving overcrowding, misalignment, gaps between teeth, and bite problems like overbite, underbite, and crossbite. By aligning the teeth properly, orthodontic treatment not only enhances the appearance of the smile but also promotes better oral health by making it easier to clean teeth and reducing the trouble of dental effects analogous to tooth decay and gum complaints.

In summary, Dr. Vandana Upwanshi specializes in a variety of cosmetic dentistry treatments aimed at enhancing smiles and boosting confidence. From dental implants for a permanent result to missing teeth to smile makeovers acclimatized to individual requirements, each procedure is designed to enhance both the appearance and functionality of the smile. With advanced dental technology and ways, achieving a radiant smile is more accessible than ever. Book an appointment with Prosthodontics and Implantology, Dr. Vandana Upwanshitoday to explore cosmetic dentistry options and begin your journey toward a more beautiful and confident smile.

[giftexoperfumes]

Dolce and Gabbana Cologne for Men the iconic Italian fashion house, have long been synonymous with luxury,  complication, and style. From haute couture to  spices, their creations  transude an unmistakable sense of refinement and  appeal. Among their  force of scents, Dolce and Gabbana Cologne for Men stand out as a  definitive  personification of  mannish charm and  fineness.   drafted with  scrupulous attention to detail, Dolce and Gabbana colognes for men are a testament to the brand's commitment to excellence. Each  scent is a precisely curated  mix of high- quality  constituents, designed to  elicit a sense of confidence and  appeal in the wear and tear. From woody and  racy notes to fresh and citrusy undertones, there's a scent to suit every preference and occasion.   One of the most cherished  spices in the Dolce and Gabbana men's collection is the iconic" The One for Men." Launched in 2008, this  dateless scent has come a  ultramodern classic, cherished by men around the world. With its sophisticated  mix of  racy  gusto, cardamom, and tobacco," The One" exudes an air of refined  virility, making it the perfect choice for the  sapient gentleman.   For those seeking a  scent that captures the  substance of the Mediterranean," Light Blue Pour Homme" is an excellent choice. Inspired by the rugged bank of Sicily, this amping  scent features notes of citrus, rosemary, and musk,  eliciting a sense of newness and vitality that's perfect for everyday wear and tear.   Meanwhile," Dolce and Gabbana Pour Homme" offers a more classic interpretation of  virility, with its rich  mix of lavender, tobacco, and cedarwood. This sophisticated  scent is ideal for evening affairs,  percolating an air of  dateless  fineness and refinement.   Whether you are dressing for a formal occasion or simply want to make a statement with your everyday scent, Dolce and Gabbana Cologne for Men offers a range of options to suit every taste and style. With their impeccable artificer and attention to detail, these  spices are sure to leave a lasting  print wherever you go.

[rahulp678]

Luxe 2BHK Flats in Tathawade The Millennium Falcon Apartments

  Are you looking for your ideal luxurious home  in Tathawade? Look no further because the Millennium Falcon Tathawade Apartments are then to reach you off your bases with their luxurious 2BHK apartments. positioned in the heart of Tathawade, these apartments offer a perfect mix of ultramodern amenities, high position, and stirring views. Let's dive into what makes these apartments a must- have for anyone looking for a comfortable and swish living space. 

Experience unparalleled connectivity at Millennium Falcon, ensuring a well-connected lifestyle with effortless access to major landmarks. Strategically positioned in Tathawade, this residential masterpiece offers convenience and accessibility, enhancing your daily living experience.

Millennium Falcon Tathawade Map:

Vision One Mall: 3 minutes away

Blossom Public School: 5 minutes away

Lifepoint Hospital: 7 minutes away

EON IT Park: 8 minutes away

World Trade Center: 8 minutes away

Phoenix Mall of the Millennium: 10 kilometers away

Aditya Birla Hospital: 12 minutes away

Akshara International School: 15 minutes away

 Luxurious Living Spaces 

 Step inside the Millennium Falcon Apartments, and you will be saluted by commodious and elegantly designed 2BHK apartments that transude luxury in every corner. From high ceilings and large windows that fill the apartments with natural light to decoration institutions and homestretches, no detail has been overlooked in creating these stunning living spaces. Whether you are relaxing in the cozy living room, whipping up a mess in the ultramodern kitchen, or unwinding in the lavish bedrooms, you will feel right at home in the stage of luxury. 

 Amenities Galore 

 At the Millennium Falcon Apartments, residers can indulge in a wide array of amenities designed to enhance their life and give ultimate comfort and convenience. From a state- of- the- art fitness center where you can stay in shape to a foamy swimming pool where you can take a stimulating dip on a hot day, there is commodity for everyone to enjoy. Plus, with amenities like a club, landscaped auditoriums , and24/7 security, you will have everything you need right at your fingertips. 

 Affordable Luxury 

  Despite offering top- notch amenities and luxurious living spaces, the Millennium Falcon Apartments are unexpectedly affordable, making them an excellent investment occasion for homebuyers. With flexible payment plans and seductive backing options available, retaining your dream 2BHK flat in Tathawade has noway been further attainable. 

 Do not miss out! 

 In conclusion, if you are in the request for a luxurious 2BHK flat in Tathawade, look no further than the Millennium Falcon Apartments. With their high position, luxurious living spaces, cornucopia of amenities, and affordability, these apartments offer everything you could ever want and further. Do not miss out on the occasion to make one of these stunning apartments your new home!

Click here : Welcome to Millennium Falcon

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What Is Cardiac Tamponade?

Cardiac tamponade is a medical emergency caused by the build-up of pericardial fluid such as exudate, transudate, or blood in the pericardial sac of the heart—the accumulation of the fluid results in impaired cardiac filling and subsequent haemodynamic compromise. Cardiac tamponade requires a prompt clinical diagnosis and treatment to prevent cardiovascular collapse and cardiac arrest.  What…