#gout attacks

[martinloren]

How to Lower High Uric Acid Levels and Prevent Gout

To lower high uric acid levels and prevent gout, maintain a healthy diet by avoiding purine-rich foods such as red meat and seafood, drink plenty of water to help flush out uric acid, and incorporate regular exercise.

Additionally, limit alcohol intake and sugary drinks, and consider medications prescribed by a healthcare provider if necessary. Read more

[yourgamemasterthewhiterabbit]

Having a coffee that's just a watered down coffee today has been a pretty chill experience [it's causing bubbles but not like extreme gastric distress], mostly because for a while now I have just been putting everything I should be drinking in large cups of boiling water all at once and simply drinking it with no cream or sugar and no regard to taste.

I can't even actually tell you whether it tastes good or bad, but I have been drinking a concoction of lemon juice, frozen cranberries, green tea, black tea, turmeric, and a packet of gelatin [not flavoured or sweetened jello, knox gelatin], and sometimes a pinch of dried roasted dandelion roots or a little pinch of coffee grounds or both. In nearly a liter of hot water. Much to -your- horror, nothing but the black tea is in a bag or filter the rest is all lose in there.

It looks and feels very "swamp potion a kid would make" only I am a grownup and actually downing it all. The lemon and cranberry have tasted good next to chocolate... I cannot evaluate the rest of the flavour.

Potion of kidney recovery.

I ate one can of beets fried in avocado oil and put into wraps, but I think I am done with the beets for now. The bone pain is mostly gone and I just need to make sure the gout is too. my hands, feet and shoulders are still sore, and I can't tell if they are just healing or if I still have gout.

I want steak and cokey cola so bad. Life is sadness.

[power-chords]

Adam, guiltily: “People in this world have ACTUAL problems… and I’m like, ‘The tone on my Jazzmaster isn’t right.’”

[writers-potion]

Vocabulary List for Fight Scenes

Combat Actions

Hoist

Dart/Dash

Deflect

Shield

Sidestep

Snatch up

Stalk

Stamp/stomp

Stretch

Stride

Wagger

Oust

Leap

Lose ground

Mimick

Mirror

Negate

Overpower

Parry

Rear to full height

Resurgate

Suanter

Seize

Take cover

Throttle

Twirl

Unleash

Withdraw

Entwine

Flee

Gain ground

Grasp

Cling to

Breach

Duck

Dodge

Hits

Amputate

Bloody

Carbe

Castrate

Collision

Connect

Crush

Defenestrate

Destroy

Disfigure

Dismember

Dissever

Grind

Maul

Perforate

Rend

Riddle with holes

Saw

Smack

Splatter

Sunder

Torn Asunder

Traumatize

Whack

Writhe

Gut

Hammer

Maim

Mangle

Plow

Puncture

Melee

Assault

Attack

Barrage

Bash

Belebor

Bludgeon

Carve

Chop

Cleave

Clio

Club

Crosscut

Dice

DIg

Gore

Hack

Impale

Jab

Kick

Knock

Onsalught

Pierce

Plnt

Punch

Rive

Shove

Skewer

Slice

Smash

Stab

Strike

Sweep

Swipe

Swing

Transfix

Thrust

Visual Flair

Agony

Asphyxiate

Chock

Cough up bile

Cut to ribbons

Flop limply

Fractue

Freckled with blood

Gouts of blood

Grimane

Hemorrhage

Hiccup blood

Imprint

Indent

Resounding

Retch

Rip

rupture

Shiny with gore

Spew

Splash

Slumped in despair

Splatter

Split

Tear

Topple

Void

Vomit

Wedge

With a fell gaze

With a fiendish grin

With blank surprise

Audible Flair

Bang

Barking

Bong

Boom

Crack

Cackle

Clang

Clash

Crash

Cry

Echo

Elicit a curse

Frunt

Hiss

Howel

Hum

Moan

Muttering

Whoosh

Whistle

Whizz

With a keening cry

Thud

Thunk

Thawk

Splat

Snarl

Swoosh

Squeal

Sing

Sickening Pop

Silintly

Shriek

Shout

Snap

Thundering

Effects

Blind

Burn

Cause frostbite

Cauterize

Concussion

Combust

Daze

Dazzle

Deafen

Disintegrate

Electrocute

Freeze

Fuse flesh

Immobilze

Incinerate

Melt

Pralyse

Petrify

Purbind

Radiate

Reduced to

Shock

Sightless

Stun

Transiluminate

Death Blows

Annihilate

Behead

Decapitate

Disembowel

Eviscerate

Extirpate

Murder

Obliterate

Raze

Exterminate

[lootahsanthigiriuae]

Gout is a form of arthritis that affects peoples joints and muscles. It is characterized by sudden attacks of severe pains, redness and tenderness in joints. This occurs when too much uric acid crystallizes and deposits itself in the joints.

Look out for the above symptoms and our osteopaths at Lootah Santhigiri can help diagnose the disease and prescribe certain foods to be consumed and foods to be avoided to manage the disease. They also are experts in suggesting lifestyle changes that can help reduce the number of attacks and it’s intensity.

To get yourself checked with us, call us on +971 4 587 9555, and book an appointment with us at the Lootah Santhigiri Health Center at Dubai Motor City.

[drac-kool-aid]

Y'know, something that gets me, is that in the book, Dracula's intentional predation of Lucy starts off with an accidental meeting. Sure, Lucy slept walked, and an argument could be made her path might have been supernaturally influenced, but I say she'd already been a known sleep-walker, and she went directly to a place she was familiar with.

Her stumbling onto Dracula's hiding spot in a very vulnerable state was just an accident, and from there, he intentionally set out to harm her, and through that, everyone around her he could get.

This is sort of related to Jonathan, too. Had Mr. Hawkins not come down with a bad case of gout, Jonathan wouldn't have been sent to Castle Dracula in his stead. Sure, Dracula probably would have had his fun with Hawkins before inevitably killing him, but I doubt he would have drawn it out so long or taken so much delight.

Dracula never sets out with a master-plan to attack Lucy or Jonathan. They just end up in his path and spark his interest. We know that if he isn't interested in you, he'll kill you. He'll, he breaks Mr. Swales neck doesn't even bite him. But the two victims he decides he's going to make suffer the longest he possibly can, he just stumbles upon and goes "oh this will be fun". Later, we see him start choosing victims as a way to retaliate, but for the two inciting incident victims upon which the rest of the story hangs...its just wrong place wrong time.

The reason this struck me is that I was misremembering. For some reason, which I now believe due to thinking about the *through gritted teeth* Coppola film, is that Lucy is sort of hand-picked by Dracula to be his victim. And yeah, the fucking film ain't subtle in its blaming of Lucy's victimization on the fact that she was Too Pretty and Too Flirtatious and Dracula psychically drew her into the garden in a flowing diaphanous dress, but it's really her fault....I hate this movie.

Like, i just read the films Wikipedia plot synopsis, Dracula "psychically seduces" Lucy before biting her. He chooses her out of everyone in England deliberately.

And just...no. That's not what happens. Lucy got so stressed from her wedding that her latent sleep walking started again. Mina gets so tired from the constant stress she falls asleep without meaning to. Lucy went to their favorite spot...Dracula just happened to be there and took advantage and both Lucy and Mina weren't floating along softly into a garden with a fan letting their hair blow, but cold, scared, and covered in mud and blood, and forced to sneak back to the house that way, facing not only the supernatural but the very ordinary horrors of being caught outside at night by a strange man.

Idk. The tragedy is that Dracula didn't set out to fuck with these people. It's just that they were the ones who crossed his path that he took an interest in, and he decided to draw it out as long as possible.

(Oh fuck, this is the crew of the Demeter too. It isn't like Draculas got some big plan. He just decides he's going to play with his food. Had he boarded any other ship it would have ended up the same way.)

I guess in conclusion, I find it odd that adaptions seem to need to find a reason for him doing what he does. Like, Coppola has to conjure up a whole reincarnation backstory at one point, but I don't understand why!! Let Dracula just be an opportunist, his casual cruelty knowing no reason. That makes him scarier.

[wingedjellyfishflight]

Twins

Visiting a military plane demonstration, you wait in line to see inside the planes parked on the runway. You get jostled hard by a rude man and almost fall down from the steps. A nearby military officer in a black balaclava catches you. He is clearly irritated to be here, but you try to flirt a little anyway, asking him if he saves many damsels in distress.

Before he can respond, you hear a scream, then quickly following the sound, more screams. You see a handful of people start attacking bystanders. Springing into action, you help usher many to safety, yelling commands at them to get them moving toward a nearby gate. You don't notice the masked man doing the same thing until you see a woman running past you with a knife in her hand, aiming at him. Acting on pure instinct, you tackle her, knocking it out of her hands. Suddenly, you are in a fierce fight to keep her from grabbing it again. She strikes at you where she can, hitting you fiercely as her desire to continue her attack takes priority over all else. She carves deep gouges in your face with her fingernails, making you panic slightly. You grab her ear and yank, tearing part of it free, releasing a gout of blood. She stops attacking momentarily, and the masked man is there helping you. He zip ties her hands behind her back and tells you to sit on her while grumbling about civilians getting involved. You jokingly tell him you couldn't stand owing a favor and wink up at him before waving him off to go help others.

As you sit, she screams and curses and fights, trying to get free. Finally, irritated beyond belief by her antics, you threaten to Vincent Van Gogh her ear and cut it the rest of the way off. It takes some time, but things finally calm down, and medics make the rounds, triaging and helping everyone who was injured in the attack. A medic and a few military personnel take charge of the woman before your turn for a medic finally comes. He takes one look at you, and he immediately sends you to the line to wait for the hospital. You are a lower priority than most despite needing stitches for your still bleeding wounds, so you wait quietly. A man with a mohawk wanders over with the masked man, asking for your statement. He introduces himself as Soap and the masked man as Ghost, who remains silent. You tell Soap what you saw and did, then joke quietly, "I couldn't seize the day, so I seized an ear." He chuckles, and you glance at Ghost. "I hope to see you around," you say with a bloody smile, but you can't manage a wink past the swelling of your face as they load you into an ambulance. At the hospital, you are treated for a broken clavicle, two broken fingers, and the gouges on your face, which need stitches.

On Monday, you report to your new commanding officer. It takes extra time to get on base because the gate guards are on high alert and very suspicious of your bandaged face. When you finally get to his office, Captain Price is surprised at the injuries you are sporting. You explain what happened, and he smirks at your mention of Ghost but doesn't say anything. He gives you a quick tour, showing you the med bay, mess hall, and your quarters before continuing on with the rest of his day.

You slowly carry your things from your vehicle to your quarters, having packed everything in small boxes so they aren't too heavy, determined not to need help. You are on the last load when Soap nearly runs into you in the hall. He recognizes you despite your bandages and quickly takes the box out of your hands despite your protests, carrying it to your room for you.

"So, what are ye movin in here for, lass? Fall in love with someone at the airshow," he asks, waggling his eyebrows at you.

You laugh, "No, just the new doctor for the team."

He looks dubiously at your injuries, and you roll your eyes, "Can't a girl save a man without it coming back to bite her?"

He laughs and takes his leave late for a meeting. When you go to lunch, he waves you over to sit, knowing how much it sucks to be the new guy. Ghost sits across from you without looking and strikes up a conversation with Soap about some upcoming training. When you laugh at a joke that Soap makes, he finally looks up and does a double-take.

"Damsel, what are you doing here?"

"New doc," Soap choruses.

"Doc, we need to get you trained in grappling," Ghost grumbles, looking over your injuries.

"Sure, in about 3 months when I can lose the sling," you quip.

"I'll reserve the room," he says flatly, undeterred by your current state.

"That's an estimate, not a guarantee, Ghost."

"Yes, that is why you will bulk up on protein and heal faster." He picks up his tray and shoves the meat off it and onto yours.

You stare at him for a long moment before saying, "No thanks... I'll just eat MY food." His glare leaves no room for argument, so you turn away, but you can still feel his eyes on you. You grumble as you eat a bite, and he smirks before turning back to his own tray. The moment he looks away, you shove the meat back on his plate and stand to leave. His "Oi!" calling after you makes you want to grin, though the stitches prevent it as you hurry off.

At the end of the week, you are glad to be able to remove the stitches. You wait until after hours, setting yourself in front of a mirror, snipping, and pulling them out. A boot scuff tells you that you're not alone. "Clinic is closed. If it's an emergency, I can treat you, but otherwise, you'll have to wait until tomorrow." There is no answer, and you look around seeing no one. But you know what you heard. You go back to pulling stitches, but shift your position a bit, protecting the arm in a sling in case someone decides to attack you again.

"You know you can have someone else pull those, right?" Ghost's voice floats to you.

"Damn place is haunted. I'm hearing ghosts talk to me," you say, chuckling to yourself.

He huffs and walks out of the darkness to stand behind you. "I'm just saying you don't have anything to prove."

"I'm not trying to prove anything. I'm just working to minimize the scarring." You say it flippantly, but he can see the slight frown on your face as you look at the injuries.

"All I see is a hero, but I do understand. You could always mask up like me." He says it jokingly, but you consider it.

"Not the worst idea. But a bally isn't my style. Wouldn't want to copy your thing." You finish pulling stitches after a few more minutes of silence and turn to face him, but he has disappeared into the shadows again. "See if I invite you over for tea, then." You hear a chuckle fading off in the distance and smile despite yourself.

The next day, you have a grimace on your face the entire day, seeing others stare at your now stitch-less but still injured face. Ghost conspicuously doesn't look, and Soap tries to joke about others being jealous, but it falls flat. You've never been a vain person. You can't help being self-conscious, though. Your frustration peaks when a nurse stares slack jawed at you for nearly ten straight minutes, prompting you to put on a surgical mask. It helps slightly, but the gouges are still visible on the rest of your face. You think about it all day and come up with a solution.

That night, you furiously stitch a flower printed bamboo t-shirt into a mask, carefully cutting and sewing it to drape across your face. You make a square block for your eyes, making sure it is smooth and not going to irritate your healing skin. Donning it, you make a few adjustments, stitching the arms shut except for a slit near your ears to fit a surgical mask as needed, and you stitch the neck of the shirt closed. The end result is a cute, breathable mask that hides all of the scarring except a line near your eyes. It's perfect even if it covers almost your entire face.

The stares you get the next week are still nerve-wracking, but they lessen as the time goes on. Ghost simply throws a smirk your way while Soap laments the loss of another friend with a wink at you, not able to stop himself from teasing. You shut down your staff when they try to bring it up. Captain Price shoots you a sad look and a nod. He would clearly prefer you didn't hide, but he understands. Your work maintains its same level of quality, so he simply marks the preference to hide your face in your file and moves on. The first person to complain about your supposed lack of professionalism to him is told to "fuck off right to hell, you daft prick," professionally... in those exact words.

A few months in, your sling is finally off, and you spend several hours a week grappling with Soap and Ghost as promised. Ghost even trains you in using a knife in combat, quipping that you can switch to your scalpel when the lessons are finished. The scars on your face are growing darker, becoming more and more apparent as time goes on. The mask will stay. When the Captain tries to discuss it gently, you lift the bottom, showing him the edges of the scars. The dark purple and red lines against your pale skin couldn't be anymore obvious. He nods with a quiet, "Understood, Major."

After Ghost shows you many techniques and hones your skills, he brings you into the recruit class one day a week. The goal is to help you maintain those skills and learn against different opponents who are less skilled than him. The first time you begin to win a fight, the recruit yanks off your mask despite specific instructions not to do so, hoping to stun you. Instead, you get angry and knock him over onto his stomach, one arm pinned under him and the other under your left foot with your right knee on his back. Calmly, you pull your mask from his hand and work to drape it back over your face. Glancing up, you see that Ghost is standing over you, blocking the other recruits from staring and absolutely furious on your behalf. You climb off the recruit, and the young man gets the tongue lashing of a lifetime and is then smoked in front of the rest of the recruits. The dirty trick doesn't happen again.

It's nine months after you first started working on base when a new man joins the team. You meet him at lunch, looking up and giggling when you realize you have very similar masks on. Soap makes a joke about the two of you being twins, but Ghost just stares at both of you.

König, as he is called, is immediately infatuated with you. He begins wooing you immediately, his eyes never straying to anyone else. He wants to see you wear his mask, watch your eyes roll up in your mask as you cum on him. He wants to see the face beneath the mask fall apart. It doesn't take long for every fantasy of his to come true... and a few of your own. You never feel self-conscious of your scarring around him. He worships you and your scars every chance he gets. But you still wear the mask every day for the rest of your life and sometimes his if you want to rile him up.

[valeechtine]

I am going to be so fr I hate that certain sects of tumblr act as if like. Basic dietary facts are ableist. Like I understand sensory issues and samefoods bc I also have them but at the same time its an objective fact that like. You need your vitamins and nutrients. You need a vegetable or at least a multivitamin or something now and then and it isn't a personal attack for someone to tell you this. Like gout and scurvy and anemia are all very real

[gotham-at-nightfall]

Battle Beneath the God's Eye

Prince Aegon commanded a charge, hoping to break through the Kingslanders before the other loyalists fell upon his flanks, and mounted Quicksilver to lead the attack himself. But scarce had he taken wing when he heard shouts and saw his men below pointing to where Balerion the Black Dread had appeared in the southern sky. King Maegor had come. For the first time since the Doom of Valyria, dragon contended with dragon in the sky, even as battle was joined below. Quicksilver, a quarter the size of Balerion, was no match for the older, fiercer dragon, and her pale white fireballs were engulfed and washed away in great gouts of black flame. Then the Black Dread fell upon her from above, his jaws closing round her neck as he ripped one wing from her body. Screaming and smoking, the young dragon plunged to earth, and Prince Aegon with her.

By ChildrenofRhllor

[vickyvicarious]

I handed to him the sealed letter which Mr. Hawkins had entrusted to me. He opened it and read it gravely; then, with a charming smile, he handed it to me to read. One passage of it, at least, gave me a thrill of pleasure.

"I must regret that an attack of gout, from which malady I am a constant sufferer, forbids absolutely any travelling on my part for some time to come; but I am happy to say I can send a sufficient substitute, one in whom I have every possible confidence. He is a young man, full of energy and talent in his own way, and of a very faithful disposition. He is discreet and silent, and has grown into manhood in my service. He shall be ready to attend on you when you will during his stay, and shall take your instructions in all matters."

Inspired by this post looking through Dracula's earlier letter to Jonathan, let's see what the Count might take from this section of Mr. Hawkins' letter.

Red = Jonathan is young, has only worked for Mr. Hawkins so far. He's only recently grown into manhood. He's likely to be a little bit naive and inexperienced, easier to toy with.

Orange = Jonathan may not look it at first glance, but he has great drive and he is smart. Not only will he be able to competently answer Dracula's questions and assist him with the work he's officially here for, but this means he's more likely able to endure a good deal of torment before breaking down completely. He'll be entertaining for a while to come.

Green = He will try his best to complete this job, even if just out of loyalty. He won't speak up for himself. How much pushing will it take to break his silence?

Blue = He's going to do what Dracula wants. Whatever he wants. He's obedient. How far can that be pushed? What kinds of unexplained orders will he follow?

Like... Dracula was expecting Mr. Hawkins. He would probably still have fun/use him as a resource as planned, but an old, experienced lawyer who is no longer in the prime of his life wouldn't be nearly as interesting for him, or for nearly as long. We see what his tastes run towards later... and Jonathan fits them all perfectly. No wonder he smiled so charmingly after reading this.

From Dracula's perspective, this description of Jonathan is more and more exciting. It absolutely gives him an idea of the kind of guest he has even beyond what he's already learned/confirming some things he's seen (Jonathan didn't speak up in the ride to the castle even when it was obviously not a straight trip there. He tried to save the driver from the wolves.), and it's all the sort of information that will make Dracula eager to test Jonathan. To see how far he can push him, to draw this out as slow as possible.

I don't think Jonathan was the only one here who felt " a thrill of pleasure" reading Mr. Hawkins' letter.

[treason-and-plot]

Wednesday 10.37 am

Roy’s work day usually begins with him phoning or video-calling as many of his clients as his schedule allows; today looks like being a good day as not a single one of his flock is facing any new lawsuits, nor has anybody been cancelled on social media in the past twenty-four hours. The best news of all is that his star basketball player Otiene Henare’s groin injury is finally on the mend. Otiene sustained the injury three weeks ago in a game against the Twinbrook Tigers and has been out of action ever since, but his mother Carleen tells Roy in a voice emotional with relief that Otiene’s medical team has given him the all-clear to play this Saturday. Roy feels a little bit emotional too; Otiene is not only his mother’s ticket to a cushy retirement but probably twenty other people’s meal tickets too, himself included. He’s just finished chatting with Harrison Steiner when Celine knocks on his door. She waltzes into the room without waiting for him to answer, and announces that his lunchtime meeting with his boss Gus and several of the firm’s lawyers and accountants has been postponed because Gus woke up this morning with a bad attack of gout. 

"Booyah!" whoops Roy, punching the air.

"Your concern for Gus’ condition is so touching,” says Celine.

“Hopefully the old fart will be off for the rest of the week,” says Roy. “Hey, what are you doing for lunch? Do you want to check out that new restaurant down by the waterfront? Alec reckons their smoked trout is life-changing.“

“Thank you very much for the offer, but I’m having lunch with my boyfriend today,” says Celine. A becoming pink tinge blossoms across her neck and cleavage.

“Celine! You sly minx! You didn’t tell me you have a boyfriend!” says Roy.

“You never asked,” says Celine. “Anyway, I’m telling you now.”

“What’s his name?” says Roy. “What does he do? How long have you been seeing him? Have you blown him yet?”

“Oh dear, I think I can hear my phone ringing,” says Celine. “Bye, Roy!"

After she’s sashayed from the room Roy ponders his contacts list for a few moments, then dials Joël‘s number.

“Hey, Mahogany!” he says when Joël answers on the fifth ring. “Are you allowed out of the house to come to lunch today? Or do you need a permission slip from Neets?”

[dgrailwar]

Round 13, Day 6 - Typhon's Defeat, The End of a Curse [LONG]

While morale had started high, things seemed to be going south. No matter what they threw at the giant, nothing seemed to be working. It wasn't as if the Servants didn't have help. The Mystic Eyes of the Gorgon only seemed to slow Typhon down slightly, and any monsters or summoned soldiers by Echidna and Gunner respectively were being smashed much faster than expected.

But that was the might of this giant… Typhon, after all, was a nigh-invincible dragon that thrived in the darkness and within the Earth and yet could rend the heaven's asunder and destroy the hopes and dreams of the faithful- and the curse of the Pretender was filling in any conceptual gaps that it would normally have.

"We're barely scratching this thing!"

The Ruler's eyes narrowed as the Alter-Ego complained, before her expression grew resolute.

"…Alter-Ego, can you get me up there?"

"Huh? I mean, probably, but…"

"Please. I have a plan to give us the upper hand, but you'll have to trust me."

The Alter-Ego frowned, before nodding. She took her rival into her arms, gently. The Alter-Ego's grasp was loose, the Ruler having to hold on tightly to compensate for the weaker hand grip of the Alter-Ego, but it was enough. With dazzling speed, Meltryllis darted forward, her movements like water as she slipped and danced past wave after wave of energy emitted from their behemoth of an opponent.

Quietly, in the Alter-Ego's arms, the Ruler chanted.

"The heavens declare the victory of God… The skies proclaim the work of His hands… Day after day they pour forth speech… Night after night they reveal knowledge…"

The Alter-Ego jumped upwards, and the Ruler let go, clinging onto the grand form of Typhon.

The Ruler stabbed her sword into the pulsating core.

The sword she had never swung once- she had used only her banner leading up to this point. For once her sword was drawn... that signaled the beginning of her end... her second Noble Phantasm.

Her body was tiny against the body of the dragon, truly minuscule, but the way mana was gathering around her, she was like a bright torch within the darkness. She continued to pray, as she gathered more and more magical energy into her being, preparing herself.

"My heart burns inside with the flames of devotion. This is where I meet my end. My destiny now runs it course. My life's dream has reached its conclusion."

"I devote the only thing left to protect His way. O' Lord, with these flames of purity, take everything along with my body…--"

"…La Pucelle…!"

There was a massive explosion of flame. A gout of brilliant fire that burned like the sun, enveloping the massive dragon as it roared- but ever-louder was the proud shout of the Ruler, a bellow of a woman determined to put everything she had into even rendering the god-killer able to be 'killed'. Wars were not won without losses- victories not without sacrifices- that was the unjust nature of this world as it currently stood.

However-- Jeanne d'Arc was no stranger to death, nor sacrifice. So to burn for a future that humanity believed in, even if couldn't see it herself, she would immolate herself a thousand times over!

There was a pause, as the flame died down. A fragile form weakly began to fall to the ground, as the giant began to shudder and creak, limbs adjusting as it returned to life. However, it's hide had been horrible shattered, and blood oozed and sloughed out from where the Ruler had triggered her Noble Phantasm.

"Miss Ruler...! No... no... It didn't work…?!"

"No… Ruler did it! It's vulnerable! Any conceptual defenses it may have had… her flames burned them away! To burn away a divine layer of protection granted by Gaia herself to one of her children… what an immensely powerful Noble Phantasm!"

"Well, now that we're sure it can die, that just means we can't let this chance go to waste! It's readying another attack, heads up!"

"…Om Sri Ganeshaya Namah…"

The MoonCancer whispered, before beginning to run forward. Typhon reared his heads back, three heads each preparing a powerful blast of mana that could end everything. She leaped into the air, her form glowing as another shape began to expand out of her. A massive god, with the head of an elephant and four mighty arms-- the great form of Ganesha-- manifested around her, translucent and bright. It headbutted the godkilling dragon, before each of the four arms clamped on tightly.

The smug, excited voice of the MoonCancer holding the divine title of 'Ganesha' echoed through the chamber, laughing heartily.

"Nice try, you knockoff Maldragora! But you're not the only one who can get big! Behold my improvised Noble Phantasm, Ganesha Impact: Pilot Mode! The immense weight-- I mean pressure-- of this super god is something even you can't fight against!"

' DIVINE SPIRIT… DETECTED… TRIGGERING NEGA-KERAUNOS… '

Red and black streaks of lightning began to form around Typhon, as the divine manifestation held tightly.

"Oh, what now? You're about to use your super move? As if I'd let you finish your inputs! Besides, this is my chance to show off a new skill-- see, someone told me a real hero kills with their eyes!"

The massive ephemeral Ganesha's eyes flashed as two massive jets of light burned outward, the dragon letting out an echoing roar. Then, while two arms held the wings of the gargantuan dragon, two more arms reeled upwards and smashed downward, crashing into two of Typhon's heads. The possessed godkiller let out a terrifying growl, wing-jets flaring with crackling energy before a massive explosion rocketed outwards, the Ganesha effigy shattering like glass as the MoonCancer went flying backwards, slamming into the wall with a heavy thud before falling to the ground, the magical energy around her fading.

Seeing the massive god vanish, the Gunner instantly snapped into action, pointing at the wounded dragon.

"Pseudo-Noble Phantasm, activate! Strange God: Arahabaki! Suppressive fire, Kiheitai! We're going all out! You hear me?!"

You could see the Spirit Origin of the Gunner-class Servant crumbling under the weight of the Noble Phantasm he was using. A deluge of gunfire rained upwards at the massive dragon. Such beasts were far before his time- he was a man of the future, and Typhon was a thing of the past. So, to have the glory of being part of the team to lay such an entity low… there was no fate more interesting for Takasugi Shinsaku!

"Fire! Fire! Fire! Don't let up! We can't let up! Not even for a second!"

The assistance of the Ancient God and the Mother of Monster's spawn was appreciated as well, though he pushed his thoughts on how to recreate such immense divine power down. Being surrounded by the superweapons of Greece was distracting, but he had a job to do.

Another streak of dark lightning roiled, scraping across the ground as it sent his men scattering. He watched, gritting his teeth before the lightning surged through him, the massive arms of his mechanical marvel thrown upwards in an attempt to defend, as he and his machine were consumed in a blast- the Gunner's body crashing to the ground.

"Forget about someone, Typhon? Waltz… étoile!"

Like hail raining relentlessly from the heavens, the Alter-Ego struck. Her bladed legs cleaved into one of the eyes of the massive divine beast, as it roared and swung at her with an all-encompassing hand. Her movements were beautifully swift, as she leapt from one head to another, driving her spiked knees in whenever she had the chance, carving blood out from the dragon like sap from a tree.

Like a swan, she flew through the air-- however, the dragon swiftly adapted-- the dancer getting caught by the jaws of the beast.

However, rather than a yell of agony, one could hear the Alter-Ego cackling with smug glee, as the dragon's attention was firmly affixed on her.

"You... idiot..."

The Alter-Ego whispered, teeth digging into her body.

"Now… do it… now!"

She screamed, a signal far too unsubtle for her tastes, but she was in a position where being picky wasn't an option.

The dragon's attention was yanked away from the fluttering white of the Alter-Ego's attire, but it was a moment too late. Two forms stood a distance away, their bodies glowing with pure, intense prana.

"The legend hidden in the mountain of the Messiah… The despair seen by those without a god…"

"I will guide people's dreams and people's wishes… Let's bring them all to the sea of the distant stars…"

"For these are the flames of purification…!"

"Some day, we will finally reach that place…"

"PARADIS… CHÂTEAU D'IF!"

"…Pale… Blue… Dot…!"

Like a rushing shadow, the Avenger appeared before the dragon, and began to ensnare Typhon's soul.

Like a burning star, the Voyager manifested before the dragon, and began to unburden Typhon's soul.

However, the two Noble Phantasms did not exist in a contradictory state, but simultaneously. A Noble Phantasm that would entrap the dark curse, and finally put the grand monster at peace.

Their Noble Phantasms collided with the massive form of Typhon, the power of two mighty Heroic Spirits, who both hinged their lives on hope. They had no tricks, no gods of fate to assist their wills-- they simply had their ambition… and their hope. And with a great scream from both of them, that would turn the vocal chords of an ordinary human to a bloody pulp, they pushed all the mana that they had within their forms.

Finally, in a moment that could only be described as a 'man-made miracle', the dragon let out one final roar as it faded away into the massive torrent of mana.

[the-world-annealing]

An arbitrary element system

(Inspired by @discoursedrome writing this, original post seems to have been deleted so I'm linking to a reblog; also apologies to Samin Nostrat)

SALT: Associated with protection, preservation, and constancy. Marble statues, ramparts, cats, trees, and the priestly/noble classes are all considered strongly salt-aligned. More abstractly, astronomy, architecture and to a lesser extent currency all fall under its purview as well. Salt-aligned characters run the gamut from honorable knights to peaceful gardeners to bronze age god-kings. Its season is winter.

Magic of salt can create create impassable wards, render promises unbreakable, or unleash curses of petrification. It can never be used to separate or destroy, and its more powerful effects often require elaborate sigils to be drawn. Those skilled in salt magic have their lifespan greatly lengthened, and may live for many centuries, but find their minds growing ever more rigid and inflexible.

FAT: Associated with creation, growth, restoration, and foresight (as fat is, by its very nature, a store to be used in the future). Fat is associated with predators (especially birds), craftsmen, and the merchant class, as well as healers, teachers, musicians, and writers. Its season is summer.

Fat magic can grow a house from a splinter of wood, grant its wielder another man's face, twist entrails into the shape of the future, and even revive the dead for a time. However, it is powerless to affect anything that was never alive. Its effects become more potent the longer they are maintained, but doing so drains ever more of the wielder's reserves: many a mage has tried to push past their limits and combusted in flames on the spot.

ACID: Associated with destruction, upheaval, and scarcity. However, acid is also the element of forgiveness, freedom, persistence, and honesty, and governs unlikely alliances and fire-forged bonds. Scavengers and vermin are aligned with acid, as is anyone who falls outside of the conventional social hierarchy: beggars, criminals, outcasts, and ascetics. Its season is autumn.

Acid magic creates can summon hailstorms, spew gouts of burning oil, conjure frightful phantasms or inflict wracking pains. Magic that undoes charms and curses also falls under the element of acid, as does anything that facilitates travel between the planes or calls their denizens here. Acid magic demands components of great rarity; gemstones, powdered dragonscale, the bones of saints. Those who cannot pay a spell's price must suffer its scarring backlash instead, and most senior acid mages are hideous to look upon.

HEAT: Associated with transubstantiation, purification, ambition, and toil. Farmers and unskilled laborers are heat-aligned, but so are smiths, herbalists, glassblowers, and of course alchemists. Herbivorous animals are a manifestation of this element, as are the shoots and grasses they feed upon. Its season is spring.

Heat magic often manipulates energies. Telekinetic effects are heat magic, as are blasts of radiance or bursts of heat. A shield of heat magic may dissipate powerful blows as harmless light, or even reflect the force back onto the attacker. Obviously, heat magic also includes all those magics that turn a substance into another, from turning lead into gold to rusting iron or calling water from rock. Its wielders are forced to specialize ever more: the more powerful an effect one wishes to conjure, the more facets of this magic become permanently unavailable. Thus, the masters of heat magic are those that have found many creative applications for a single spell effect.

[sugarpopss]

Lamb, Pig, It's All The Same

Alright here's more Aegon with gout fic. idk. I don't have a tag list but I am gonna tag @bucknastysbabe bc I bounced some of this off of her before it sat in my drafts for two months, and @who-told-you-this-was-butter and @khaleesihel bc they're my howl drool cream over Aegon buddies

Fem reader, Aegon being a pathetic whore but like in a fun sexy way

The gout preferred to strike at night. It would violently jerk Aegon from his slumber and have him crying out with the sudden pain, panicked thrashing hindered by both his afflicted joint and his swollen stomach-for your husband did so love to gorge himself into drowsiness, despite repeated warnings from the maesters and scoldings from his own mother. 

It was Aegons gasping and crying that usually awoke you. The overwhelming panic you’d felt at the beginning of your marriage, when you’d known nothing of the crown princes illness-possibly by design, but you’d not be caught making the accusation-had been overcome in the months since the first, terrifying night. By the time the summertime warmth of your wedding had frozen into winter, you were wrapping your arms around Aegon before you were even fully awake. He always leaned into you with all of his weight, seeking the comfort you provided him like a lamb searching for its mothers shadow. 

“Hush, dearheart, it’ll fade. You know it will fade soon enough.” 

It was all nonsense, really, that you murmured into his hair, but your soothing words and safe embrace gave Aegon something to anchor himself to while the pain ran its violent course. Despite the constant, grating irritation that usually marked Aegons presence in a room-and that ground your nerves to dust time and time again-his cries made your heart ache. Perhaps you were simply weak for a beautiful man in distress, because you always found yourself coming to his side when he glutted himself like a prized hog then whined so pathetically for you to soothe his belly. 

When Aegon sniffled against your shoulder you just couldn’t help but to coo and stroke his hair. Nevermind the tears and mucus he was no doubt spreading all over the fine Myrish lace of your nightgown, the idiot usurper-your idiot usurper-was in pain and frightened. And although it surely made you a damnably terrible person, you found Aegon to be at his sweetest when he was reeling and needy. Not completely lost in the throes of the pain, of course, but when the attack began to ease and he nuzzled against your skin, seeking warmth and comfort and kind words and rewarding you with his gorgeous lilac eyes, red rimmed and watery, turned up to you with all of the mindless trust of a newborn lamb. 

The knowledge that Aegon only sought your comfort because you happened to be closer at hand than a jug of wine did little to sour how much you enjoyed peppering kisses over his fever warm cheeks-cheeks which only seemed to grow fuller and rounder time trod on, but gout was not called the ‘fat mans disease’ for nothing. The fool was nearly incapable of self soothing without something in his mouth, a fact that had perhaps led your mind towards less appropriate thoughts of a hypothetical night upon which, after the pain had faded to a more manageable ache, you’d shrug off your nightgown and offer him your breast. You were confident that Aegon would take it eagerly, after all. Doesn’t every pathetic lamb need something to nurse? 

Sometimes you gave up on holding him altogether and applied a cold herbal compress to his inflamed knee. As you sat on the edge of your own marital bed and pressed the damp, sticky rags to Aegons knee and watched him writhe and cry, your thoughts always grew strange. The affection-fine, perhaps a little bit of power as well-you felt while holding and comforting your husband went quiet. In its place arose thoughts of the Queen Consort tending to her own ailing Targaryen. You didn’t enjoy these thoughts, but they came nonetheless. Perhaps these men with dragons blood in their veins were somehow prone to affliction, or perhaps it was as simple as the fact that a loyal wife and a nursemaid were very much interchangeable. 

Even if you were slightly uncertain whether you’d care for Aegons pain at all if he wasn’t so beautiful and needy and helpless when it struck. 

Perhaps this man, this family, this city-they all brought out the worst in you. Or perhaps you were just a little too fond of your husbands flushed face and hitching cries. 

[synnthamonsugar]

DESTINYTOBER: Day 22 - Flare

Read it on AO3

Continued from yesterday

. . .

Aunor Mahal waited from a place between worlds.

There was no sensory perception here, barely awareness of herself as a discrete unit of consciousness amidst the flow of everything else. She felt Bahaghari searching for her in the way all Ghosts separated by death from their Guardians do, and carefully suppressed the primordial urge to respond. Were she practicing thanatonautics, she would attempt to fly far enough away from the veil of the living world to connect to some higher truth. But today she rested on the membrane between life and death, singing.

From the other side, approaching Light, Darkness-tinged and tumultuous. 

She carried the notes of the sun's song to its spectacular crescendo. Solar Light welled within her, reconnecting soul and body. She awoke on fire, comfortable heat in the cask of her chest, the licks of flame pleasant through and on her skin. A moment of enjoyment ruined when the man standing above her turned away from his examination of the decoy ghost, revealing his identity.

Backdraft-quick she gripped Dredgen Hope by his thick, leather-clad ankle. He yowled hideously, doubling over reflexively before he regained control of himself, lifting his leg to stomp at her arm. Letting go she rolled away from him, dodging his boot and propelling herself to her feet, preparing a gout of flame in her hand as the Shadows poured out from hiding and bullets began to fly. 

With an entrance that blackened the floor and set the apartment's sparse furnishings smoldering, the Praxic Warlocks Taeko-3 and Lyra-4 blinked into the room, alight with radiance as they joined the brawl. 

Hot energy arced between Taeko's hands before she unleashed a volley of plasma upon the group who charged her, instantly dispatching both the attackers and a structural beam, the ceiling sagging threateningly where it gave out. Lyra meanwhile fought off a group with searing fists and feet, igniting her opponents wherever she struck and sending them staggering dazedly as their Ghosts fought to heal without being caught in the crossfire.

As her companions handled the others, Aunor focused on Hope. She threw a spray of flame from her hands, but he leapt behind an overturned table before it could hit. Peeking out, he fired several Thorn rounds. Two whizzed by her shoulder, but the third grazed with a sickening sting, breaking her candescent armor with a black-green bruise of hive corruption. In the split-second it took her to assess her injury, Hope had already scrambled to his feet — and toward a hive artifact piled unceremoniously among weapons and other loot in the corner of the room. 

Aunor recognized it instantly. An item of both academic significance and destructive potential, it was the object with which she and her squad had been tasked to recover.

She braced for him to pick it up and make for the exit. She didn't expect him to summon his own solar light and set it ablaze.

As she sprinted for it, he dashed away. She ripped down one of the dusty curtains that darkened the windows and dropped it on the object. Taking a glance over her shoulder, she saw that Hope was prying open the sash, shoulder wedged beneath it as he gauged whether he'd fit. 

"Stop him!" She cried to her fellow Praxics as she attempted to extinguish the artifact. They disengaged from their fights and turned toward the escaping Dredgen, but it was too late — he'd already snaked out the window. 

Throwing the artifact in her satchel, she sprinted over. Peering down several stories to the broken stone below, she found that he'd vanished.