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  стоматолог фото
Posted by: bolgauitta5018 - 51 minutes ago - No Replies

Кто нибудь нибудь делал себе зубы? Что можете посоветовать?

Ведихов Ананий:
Профессиональная гигие на комплекс мер, устраняющих и предотвращающих развитие карие са [url= style="color:#000; text-decoration: none;"]стандартный метод чистки зубов[/url] и воспалительных заболе ваний пародонта путем механиче ского удаления с поверхностей зу бов над- и поддесневых зубных от ложений..

В качестве антисептической обработки после удаления зуба рекомендуются ротовые ванночки с отваром ромашки, раствором соды, когда жидкость набирается в рот и просто держится на больной стороне, без полоскания и движения щеками..

На сегодняшний день прогрессивные возможности стоматологии позволяют нам успешно проводить [url= style="color:#000; text-decoration: none;"]исправление прикуса у взрослых[/url] и детей. При незначительных нарушениях срок ношения брекетов может составить 6 месяцев, в среднем 1-2 года, при серьезных нарушениях до 2, 5 лет..

Вот несколько советов чтобы восстановить артикуляцию и избавиться от практически неизбежных дефектов речи, попробуйте читать вслух, стараясь проговаривать слова максимально четко; чтобы восстановить жевательную функцию, старайтесь поначалу употреблять более мягкую и невязкую пищу, большие куски разрезайте на мелкие, старайтесь поменьше откусывать, побольше отрезать ножом, но при всем этом понемногу увеличивайте жевательную нагрузку..
Слишком резкий всплеск физической активности может привести к кровотечению нужно какое-то время, чтобы кровь загустела и, под влиянием кислорода, в челюсти образовалась более густая пробка, закрывающая свежую рану..

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  I was lightning before the thunder [prp: Kyron]
Posted by: Judas - Today, 01:59:54 AM - No Replies

((Please ask though pm before joining))

A dark gray and cream color wolf slipped through the grass, he seems to be just aimlessly walking. However, he was deep in thought. He flicked his ears back as he came to a stop near a water's edge. He let out a sigh and almost dragged his paws as he walked over to the water. As he started to drink he could hear the low roar of thunder. It could be heard coming from the far north of where he was. The winds had just started to shift and pick up speed. His deep blue eyes scanned the sky around him once he was done drinking. He leaped on top of a nice size rock that was next to him as if to try and get a better look. The sky was growing dark; he looked behind him towards where he had come from and then back to his heading. The rain would do him good, it could help hide him as he slinked back to the only place he could really call home. Perhaps it was time to revisit some older thoughts once more? He flicked his tail before jumping off the rock and splashing into the water below the rock.

He had made his way to the other side of the river as the rain started to fall, perhaps he would find something interesting out here. He slinked around the sore line a bit before heading into the palm trees a bit. There was a bright light that little up the night sky as if it was daytime followed by a loud crack of thunder. The storm had gotten closer as he had taken his time to swim across to this island. He let out a soft sigh as he was slightly annoyed with himself. He scented the wind as it picked up. He couldn’t pick up anything but a damp earth smell mixed with the scent of the surrounding water. It was throwing off his nose at the moment. “To knock or not to knock” he thought as took a quick look around. No one was within sight. “So much for people being on guard in this area”. He let out scoff at that though.

He let out a short howl before taking a set under the palm trees. It wasn’t in the mood to be kept waiting. He wondered who would show to great him. He didn’t think many would welcome him warmly. If they knew his father they would likely be keen to steer clear of him as well. "Well, this is eventful..." he said sarcastically out loud as lightning let up the night sky once more before the thunder rolled.

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  Begin Again [Scylla]
Posted by: Batzorig - April 18, 2018, 10:23:53 PM - No Replies

    He's not new. Batzorig has been a Tortugan for some time now, although others are only now becoming aware of it. A Watchman accepted him, a member of the Arch promoted him, and both of them disappeared like so many others. Batzorig hid himself between the jungle and low-tide caverns without even meaning to. They're all closer now-- bound by loss and huddled tightly to avoid losing any more during the move. It's not that the island is smaller, but that he wants to be nearer to his packmates.
    Lions are capable of quiet: it's their nature as ambush predators, even moreso than wolves. Batzorig usually forgets this. He rears to his back legs, claws anchoring into a half-fallen trunk before pulling it down. He's a stunning sight, shining black and all bulging muscle, but not for long before he flops in the sunlight. A stereotypical male of his kind, sleeping when there's work to be done.

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  Feles, a warriors rp!
Posted by: Fern - April 18, 2018, 08:59:50 PM - No Replies

[Image: 24c8knp.png]


Feles is a new warrior cats rp, set in present day. It has four Clans, WillowClan, AshClan, EmberClan, and MossClan. It is brand new and is still looking for some high ranks to be filled, as well as eager members who are willing to role play and start some plots! It has a currency system, called furballs, which you earn by role playing and going to events such as Gatherings and Clan meetings. It has only a 40 word minimum count for role play posts, but awards you more furballs the more you post! 

go to !

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  Fight Or Flight [Ivaylo]
Posted by: Angus - April 18, 2018, 05:09:39 PM - Replies (2)

I ooc: This thread is being liquid timed as it's own separate interactions post "The Business of Survival " thread. Since it's gone a bit quiet, we're going to liquid time the events about to happen as happening after the older threads interaction. This thread is also liquid timed before Ivaylo's acceptance in to Gemini. Just wanted a few heads up before we got under way for anyone who may be confused. Also these are probably going to be super short replies and posts. whoops.


The sun was growing weary in the sky as early afternoon turned late and the woods were once again brimming with the early signs of the night life that would soon take over those that roamed the day. That, of course, was unnoticed by the young pup named Angus as he barreled through the underbrush of the forest, green eyes wide as they searched frantically for the large female wolf that had come up to him and a small gathering.

"Tell me.Tell me of this pack. Gemini. Now."

The words rang in his ears and buzzed about his brain as he continually mulled over each letter spoken. She knew something- she had to have known something about Gemini. Maybe she even knew where his parents were? Angus pushed himself, his chest burning and on the brink of exploding; his heart pounding so loud and fast that if he took his mind off of those words he might actually find himself tripping and falling over, unable to keep up. But he pressed on, digging each foot in to the ground in front of him and pushing off, panting wildly as he tried to find her. She would know something....

But it didn't last long; Angus pausing to stop and take in a deep breath of air. His breath raked through his nose, the pain stinging every nerve ending in his body as the exhaustion was piling on fast. Even for a pup he had his limits- and he was reaching them fast. The pup swallowed what little mucus remained in his mouth; everything was as dry as sand at this point. He looked around, the sudden pangs of disappointment creeping up to his heart. Or was it panic? He'd never experienced something like that before- so maybe it was just his exhaustion after all. 

"Hello?!" he called out as loud as he could, a small cough escaping his dried lips as he looked around frantically. "Please, please come, please come back!" Angus shifted on his front paws, letting out a tiny whine. "I need to know more about Gemini! I need, I need to find my way there! Hello?!"

As the silence of the forest overtook his senses, the pup found himself lost once more- the scents of everyone having disappeared. The sun as well was leaving him behind as it began to crest the horizon; Angus once more left alone in the cruel and large world with no leads on where to go. But a real adventurer pressed on; and with a start and an ache in his tiny muscles, the pup took off again, calling out as he ran.

"Hello? Please come, please come back!! Hello?!"

Continue reading..

Posted by: Batzorig - April 18, 2018, 02:46:42 PM - No Replies

    He's not a fan of crowds. Fire, alcohol, drugs. Batzorig is rarely more content than alone, on a rainy day in a nice den where he can watch the palm trees whip in stormy wind. A melancholy has overcome Tortuga, abandoning the territory where many were born, loved ones lost. A battle fought for no gain-- a war that was never their own. They have a boy-king now, of dead father and mentor lost. Sympathy weighs on Batzorig's heart, but he knows better than to voice it to someone with Bermuda.
    He wishes there was something he could do to ease them. Herbs, like the Brewers do, the words of someone respected. Gifts of glamour to affirm authority no one else has the heart to claim. But, his paws are too big for trinkets and tattoos. He was made to hurt, the lion knows from example of the others that inhabited Tortuga. Gone now, as well.
    The best a brute can do is hope his sheer size drives off any dissent. The lion wouldn't really want to hurt anyone.

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  10:37 [prp gray]
Posted by: Hidalgo - April 18, 2018, 05:10:30 AM - No Replies


[Image: __i_can_be_your_shooting_s_t_a_r___by_as...9vj7mt.png]

[Image: rainypuddles___divider_by_crookedantlers-d9ogqzt.gif]
Where you go, she casts no shadow
Still you know she's near

Just as the tar seeps up from the ground. She was, after all, a bitter dancer. Was she not? This new found home was still strange and new, their ways different from other places she had been, but there was that need to thrive. It was a curse in the blood no doubt, her bloodline always managed to split and multiply, always finding the need to fill every cavity of whatever they inhabited. Like a disease of the flesh, or a virus. Some fates one simply couldn't escape. The Valley proved too crowded a pool, but this one... hmm, one could actually dip one's toes in.

A field of thistles and wild flowers dotting all along the coarse green grass, boxed in by tall and hardy pines and spruces, their budding pine cones only just beginning to sprout. Spring would soon be sprung, and the cycle would repeat. Even still, it was far warmer inland, memory drifting off to the valley protected by the wide mountain range. Their springs were mild and their summers unbearable. It had been a cool spring in Saboro, and her bones warned her of a mild summer. The sun would leave it's chaste warm kiss, and then without even seeing a bit of autumn, they'd slide from summer to winter.  

The blue female made a face at this thought as she laid, lazily among the flowers. Amber eyes glancing to a pristine, clear cloudless sky. The far off mountain peaks topped with their hats of white, colors dulled and faded into a soft blur of blue against the bright light color of the sky. High above came a cry, and Hidalgo's vision searched for it. A falcon soared and cried once more before fading off against the mountains. Far away the falcon flew. And that part of her, that longing desire through unrest and stillness, flew with it.

Claws digging into the loose dirt, she'd pull herself up and shake out her coat, turning her head to a familiar face. Ah ha. Bright amber eyes aglow, and that plain faced expression was quick to flip and twist into a smirk. "My Rosa how-" She caught herself then, pupils turning into pin pricks, and the scruff of her neck bristling. What facet were you letting slip this time? Who's memories were they really? "Pardon, Sabor." That's what they were called here, head dipping slightly, but deep down something screeched Red Rose. "How can, little ol me, help you this fine day."

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  Origin; Fantasy Animal RPG
Posted by: Willow - April 17, 2018, 10:23:28 PM - No Replies

[Image: wUHXk4Z.png]

Visit Origin!

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  Winter Wrap Up [Charley, Pawprint]
Posted by: Tallulah - April 17, 2018, 05:36:24 AM - Replies (1)

She did not feel well actually she felt really really not well and not for the first time either. It was also not the first time she wasn't entirely sure where she was or how she had ended up there. Things were so blurry and jumbled and thinking took too much effort and it hurt besides. There were voices around voicing things she didn't really feel like trying to figure out and the didn't seem to be voices for her anyway at any rate..or wait. Now there was a voice, it kept talking and seemed to be talking to her. She didn't feel like answering though as that would require thought as she would have to figure out what the voice was saying in order to answer which she didn't feel like doing. But the voice kept on..and on and it just wouldn't stop. Maybe if she pretended it wasn't there it would go away and let her sleep..she waited but it still kept on  just like the throbbing all over kept on. She really wished it would all go away..the voice, the pain..she was so tired and so cold and she just wanted to go to sleep and not wake up until she was better and didn't this.

((so here is the short form for Tallulah to be treated for injuries @Charley  and Buckshot can be present as well if you want @Pawprint ))

{oh and Tallulah hit her head on a rock when she fell earlier and so basically as a combination of mild concussion, limited oxygen supply from being buried and hypothermia from laying in slush water plus some cuts/scrapes and scratches..yep}

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  burn and rave at close of day
Posted by: Aeon - April 17, 2018, 12:04:26 AM - Replies (1)

(Trigger warning for depictions of death and decay. If you’re only interested in replying to the immediate RP skip to the last horizontal rule- most of this is just setting up backstory to be referenced in the future, yay!)

The sun was setting before the yearling realized it would be dark by the time she made it home and so her last choice was the race through the tangled thicket and hope she made it back before her mother did. She would, without a doubt, because she was quick and mother was big and slow. Aeon wasn’t even worried how her mother would react to her tardiness; it was more the fact that the youngling missed the big cat and was poor at expressing it. She pictured her destination in her mind like a perfect painting; rock jutting out of a hillside, half-shadowed by massive trunks, but during the hot afternoon the sun hit it perfectly and mother sprawled out across its warm surface letting the sunlight slowly rust her fur. There was no den to return to, but there was that, and mother always came back so that rock became her home.

When she saw the rock for real she barked triumphant—breathlessly—and scrabbled up its dark smooth surface. Mother was nowhere to be seen. Yet. Which was good because Aeon’s pulse was still throbbing in her veins, heart defeating her ears, and she struggled to catch her breath. If she seemed calm and rested when Metka arrived the cat might think she had been patiently waiting here the whole time and then the yearling girl could hit her with a crack about how she had been waiting impatiently, c’mon mom! The pup slid down to her belly and took a deep breath, giving her heart a chance to return to its normal rate, and hoping her mother would appear soon; the cold was getting into her thin fur and she wouldn’t mind getting a proper meal into her belly. The girl was perpetually starved and cold but Metka always had something to ease that.

The sun fell from the sky and the only starlight Aeon saw was from the silent sky hanging cold above her head.

Aeon woke when she heard a heavy drag-shuffle against the frozen spring earth. Ears pricked, body following, rising to her paws to pin the source. Her brain was still muddled from sleep (when had she fallen asleep?) and didn’t think that noise could be her mother; the big cat always walked so quietly. The smell of fresh meat would have woken her first if Metka brought back a kill but—wait, she could smell it now. Blood, meat, salty and metallic, something soft to sink her teeth into and it never smelled so fresh before. The yearling was about to hop down from her perch to collect her meal when Metka finally came into view, her form half-blended in the shadows, and something uncharacteristically bumbling about her gait.

There was blood in her fur. Her blood. The dark cat carried herself carefully as she could on heavy, fractured limbs. Her ear was missing, a tear from the top of her scalp that ran down the back of her jawline to a jaw that hung crookedly on her face. Aeon froze, then flinched violently back as the shock of her mother’s injuries came at her suddenly.

Metka collapsed a few yards from the rock. Aeon rushed to her side, sniffing and licking the oozing wounds. The blood was slowing. She wouldn’t die from blood loss at least but it was of little comfort. Even then the yearling knew what was about to happen. This story was predictable and always horrifying no matter how many times it had played out before.

Mum?” The word didn’t come out sufficiently concerned, did nothing to express Aeon’s shock, sounded no different than any time she spoke to Metka. She should feel something. More than this. “What happened?

“The danger’s gone,” Metka’s words were warbled with the anguish of moving her jaw and throat muscles. “You’re safe now. Aeon, when I d-“

No,” Aeon cut her mother off. “It’s okay. You saved me. Again. I’ll take care of you, mommy. You’ll be alright. You just need rest. See? Just rest. I bet it hurts to talk. You don’t have to. I’ll take care of you.

As if repeating the phrase over and over would make it true, would keep Metka here fighting to live and save her from the miserable end to her story, and the sordid beginning to Aeon’s. Metka’s head drooped with exhaustion, bright eyes staring into the voids that were Aeon’s, brimming with the sort of deep sadness of a person who could never say all the things that they needed to say. Metka didn’t need the words, but Aeon did, and they both knew those things would die in her throat unfinished as they do.

“Aeon. Fight on, little one.”

The words would have been especially poignant if they were last words, but they weren’t. They were other words the following days. Those were just the words Aeon would remember, sharp as a blade in her mind because she would learn quickly that the world was abundant with things that needed to be fought.

There were many things neither mother or daughter got to say. Metka was not going to be alright because the only one fighting for her to live was Aeon. Aeon wasn’t old enough to learn about hunting and bring anything bigger than sizeable insects or mice to her mother. Water was a difficult challenge as well. It didn’t matter because she never ate anything Aeon brought her or took any water. She just laid there, stretched out in the cool spring grass, looking all the queen she had ever been in the peak of her health despite the dried blood and twisted limbs. For a while.

Then she stopped lifting her head when she woke, laying sprawled on her side, eyes becoming dull and uninterested in what lay beyond them. Her lips were cold when Aeon forced them open, trying to make her eat and drink with no success. The cat’s breathing became shallow and within a few days she died, the very act of it so quiet and imperceptible it was difficult for Aeon to process. She didn’t even know the exact second that it happened, only that her mother’s body had become cold and stiff next to her own when she woke in the night.

In the end Aeon did not shed a single tear for her mother and knowing that was a unique, acute form of torture. Metka could have hid from Aeon, disappeared and never let the child know the fate of her adoptive parent, but she came back to spend her final days with her daughter and now Aeon couldn’t seem to properly mourn her. She should be howling, screaming, crying. Throwing herself at the earth from the agony of loss, the knowing that she would wake up in the morning all alone, the vast existence (no matter how short) that lay ahead of her knowing Metka would never be a part of it once more. All she felt was hunger, cold, and emotional numbness that settled over every part of her heart and suffocated whatever complex feelings she wished she could be having right then.

She couldn’t bring herself to leave Metka’s corpse, even when the body was stiff and the smell of her innards were leaking out of her, a scent that wouldn’t put off a carnivore but disturbed Aeon for the fact that it cloaked the once familiar bodily scent the cat’s fur held. Aeon paced the area, growing weaker, hungrier, and knowing that the growing smell would draw in scavengers. Others who wanted to eat the body, so they could live on.

Metka hadn’t only returned here to be with Aeon though, did she? She wanted Aeon to live. She wanted her to fight. A yearling with little hunting experience was off to a bad start on her own, even if she did leave the corpse to be consumed by ravens and coyotes. Once the hunger overrode all else it didn’t take much prompting for Aeon to rip into her mother’s carcass and make good use of what was quickly becoming only meat. Metka was not there anymore but she had one last gift to give.

A growing child has got to eat.

Collapsed bones supported a tarp of dried leathery flesh and the scent of the great hellcat faded away with the decay and the weather. The loyal girl lay near it, filthy and flea-bitten, scrapes from coyotes she had pummeled into the earth when they came for the marrow. She barely recognized what was left here. Attachment to the corpse drained in the weeks it had taken for sustenance and resemblance to rot away and Aeon was now left as hungry as ever but still alive and burning with a sort of anger to which there had been no response to soothe her. She shifted uncomfortably and finally pulled herself up onto her slender mud-crusted legs.

Why did you die? You weren’t supposed to leave me. You were supposed to protect me. What was the point? WHAT WAS THE POINT OF SAVING ME IF YOU WERE ONLY GOING TO DIE?

The screaming in her head felt passionless in her heart and that left her feeling stunted. Anger could be a powerful tool in grieving, but she still felt…numb. She was being driven by more primal things. She needed food, water, a safe place to sleep. It was time to move on, haunted by thoughts that she somehow did everything wrong and she would live to regret not being able to cry the way she was supposed to. Something in her was broken, she was sure of it.

Go to the river, her mind commanded and her tired paws obeyed. She was so filthy her coat was mostly brown, the silver-blue and white of her fur caked with dust. She smelled like undeath and the fleas were probably going to be a much longer lasting problem. The girl was also dehydrated. She picked her way through tangled roots and trees and waded through meadow grass taller than she was until she came to it. Wide and shallow she could almost cross it without getting her belly wet. For now, she only needed a drink.

Watch out for others. They need water too.

Others. Strangers. Bigger, better beasts who could hurt a young hellhound striking out on her own. Bullies. She would run if they came, but for now she kept her ears pricked as she lapped up cool relief.

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