#major disease

[shaktiknowledgeblog]

world obesity day | World obesity day 2023 | healthy | Lifestyle | disease | Fat disease | major disease

By the year 2035, half of the population will be affected by this major disease, a frightening report has come out World obesity day 2023: A report by the World Obesity Federation has come on World Obesity Day, according to which obesity can make many people its victims by 2035. Image Source: FREEPIK obesity_day_2023 World obesity day 2023: Every year on March 4, Obesity Day is celebrated. It is…

[heymacy]

IAN GALLAGHER + his journey with bipolar disorder

╰┈➤ “At times, being bipolar can be an all-consuming challenge, requiring a lot of stamina and even more courage, so if you’re living with this illness and functioning at all, it’s something to be proud of, not ashamed of." - Carrie Fisher

[muzsmocsing]

old man jenkins escaped the geriatric ward again

[knifebaby3000]

eleven years / when the thorn bush turns white, that's when i'll come home

[serpentface]

Cold sores are thought to be best addressed by lancing the sore to remove polluted blood, washing with vinegar, applying a paste of honey + tansy + horsefat. In frequently recurring cases, it's considered best practice to also shave the face to eliminate any lingering traces of infection. This is the most psychologically devastating thing that Brakul has ever experienced in his life.

[chiricat]

some more sketchy p5r vbs thoughts 🎭🔥

[cluescorner]

Arlecchino's whole deal is unbelievable

Arlecchino: Huh I wonder what's causing my weird powers? I can't really worry about that right now tho, I've gotta become King and then kill my "Mother".

*Kills Clervie and "Mother"*

Arlecchino: Huh I wonder why I was able to defeat a Fatui Harbinger when I'm like 17 or so? I can't really worry about that right now tho, I've gotta be in jail and become a Harbinger.

*Is in jail for a while and becomes a Harbinger*

Arlecchino: Huh I wonder why I am-

Pierro: Hey what's up hello, anyways you're descended from the Crimson Moon Dynasty of Khaenri'ah. I'm sure that this is a lot for you to take in so-

Arlecchino: Ok.

Pierro: ...You're just cool with that?

Arlecchino: IDK maybe? I can't really worry about that at the moment, I'm a father now. This orphanage full of children I love (who also are child soldiers and are not allowed to leave or else I'll execute them except maybe now I'm just gonna wipe their memories IDK I'm morally complex) isn't gonna run itself.

*Runs the orphanage/spy recruitment initiative*

Me, the fucking player: WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU ARE KHAENRI'AN? WHY WASN'T THIS BROUGHT UP IN YOUR FUCKING QUEST?? OR ANYTHING ELSE????

Arlecchino, talking to me through my phone: I honestly don't know why you care, I'm too busy to give a shit. Anyways, I'm gonna go fight fate itself I guess. I'm sure that I don't share any thematic parallels with any other Khaenri'an characters (particularly as it relates to acting and family angst) and that I haven't made the idea of 'curses' on Khaenri'ans and what they entail even more complicated than they already were. See ya.

[violentviolet-vv]

2nd post of the day.... 😎😎

Hahhs. can you tell. can youvtell what my latest obsession is. theres more but theyre Ugly. so are these but.they can be tolerable..... (oldest to. Newest i think? idk.you can see the visible art style change)

dont ask how in coping with the latets ii episode (my reactin when watching the episodr btw. theres more but i cant add more than 10 photos💔)

[nedlittle]

*yes i know that these diseases are not gone and are still common in many parts of the world. this is a thought experiment about the 19th century

[arctic-hands]

I get why potatoes are popularly associated with Ireland and to a lesser extent other parts of Europe, but it's a bit messed up that most people will think potatoes were originally cultivated in Ireland and not ancient Peru and Bolivia like they actually are

[refeverie]

one last dream.

heavy angst. xiao. wc 807 ⤵

rewritten from my original piece 𐙚

trigger warnings! hanahaki disease: coughing up blood, flowers and their petals, flowers blooming in the heart and lungs, choking, trouble breathing, pain in the chest; major character death; no reader; all lowercase; angst. my take on hanahaki disease is quite different than usual (unrequited self-love)

summary. hanahaki—methaphor for succumbing to his karmic debt

xiao’s golden irises showed no sparkles; the light was shut down long long ago. before he even had a name, accepted by free will. without that lighthouse in his body, he lost navigation of his emotions as well. it was like he tried, but barely could understand himself, or others for that matter. he fell into complete darkness, believing he is paying for the sins he kept chained to himself.

he could not sleep. voices in the head were always splitting him in pieces; cutting him open, baring him naked in front of the world to show around. he was there for everyone, yet…  what did he ever get in return? the cost is too great for it to end. alatus is the curse xiao must bear. whenever he shut his eyes firm, he would experience that pain anew. thus, a fatal flower materialized inside his chest. alatus and his wounded soul were xiao’s eventual salvation as well.

one chilly spring night at wangshu inn, xiao felt himself pouring with sweat. his body was battling over his life; falling to the ground, shaking and choking. his hands were leaning down in an unstable manner. he kept his mouth open—bloody petals were coming out of him like a magnificent waterfall. lips tinted bright red, the color of his blood, and his thin fingers were scrabbling along the inn’s balcony floor. a moment later he sat on the ground, ice cold. xiao inhaled fresh air. “qingxin,” he heard himself whisper, watching white flower parts covered in blood. he felt empty inside, yet full of unusual poison. once again. 

xiao has heard of hanahaki—devoured human dreams were haunting him, therefore his thoughts were always revolving around this concept. this was only a question of time when the unavoidable disease would manifest. the dreams were always foreshadowing the future. he did not give up yet. little did he know, hanahaki had a horrid potency to lead anybody to eternal despair. 

after his first session, xiao would experience more painful seizure attacks subsequently. as more days passed, he started coughing up darker, crimson blood. were there should be petals, was instead whole flowers. some were so tangled they were very difficult to get out of the throat. he started forcingly pull those red-dyed white flowers with his fingers, crying for salvation each time. it became harder for xiao to breathe more frequently. however, everything he has been experiencing, he kept a secret. no one ever saw his struggles. alatus was always on his mind. the main character of his dreams, as well as his nightmares. xiao understood, he will not get a happy ending. not like he believed that in the past anyways. 

weeks later, when breathing got more complicated, xiao realized his long-awaited finale. he went outside to get more fresh air of the night. far away from liyue, from humans, or anyone alive really. xiao fell to the ground. fingers started grabbing the grass, pulling hard from the roots. he vomited a great deal of blood and, bigger than the previous, flower chunks. xiao tried to get up; defend himself. he battled the monsters, yet, no one living could witness whether they were there, or rather his imagination; hallucinations and delusions he experienced all the time due to his karmic debt.

and so, xiao was lying in his viscous blood as a black silhouette approached him from the left. their steps became soft. when the unbidden figure came out under the shining moon, he saw a painfully familiar face. alatus was paler than ever. nevertheless, xiao's eyes could hardly stay open. he was losing his consciousness. xiao tried to take in more air in his lungs, but the flowers impeded them, blocking the air from coming in. he felt a deep stab in his small heart, a plant thrust its roots athwart yaksha‘s vital organ. he stretched his red-dyed hand towards him, seeking help. but in reality, he was ready to stop fighting the disease. he was ready to leave this world for good. 

alatus saw xiao's extended hand and fell to his knees. his body was entirely paralyzed. his face did not even twitch. alatus knelt silently. however, his eyes spoke to the night. he witnessed a tragedy he did not expect ever to come across; but hoped for it for years. this was their last night together. xiao's hand slowly hit the frosty grass beneath the mere extraordinary viridescent tree. alatus shuddered. he just devoured one last dream. 

alatus looked at xiao in his blood puddle. it was unintentionally decorated with flowers of the same shade of color. he started squeezing hanahaki victim‘s chilly hand. after that, alatus stood up, looking upon his dreadful body. he left xiao's hands laid on his chest, holding a cluster of qingxin flowers.

[the-binding-blade]

thinking about zxa again

[helplesslypurple77]

~my spirits sleeping somewhere cold~

Summary: The day after the incident you wake with an itch in your throat. And as you stare at the white ceilings of your familiar bedroom, you get a feeling of foreboding.

The dressing process is subdued, the soft feel of clothes on your skin not enough to dull the insistant pain, the large gaping hole in your chest that will never be filled. You choke up lily petals in the bathroom."

Warnings: Hanahaki, angst, major character death, religious symbolism, i'm not religious, flower language.

Notes: this is something, i guess. I've been in really bad shape emotionally lately, and money’s been really tight so all the stress is just welling up i guess. That's part of the reason I topped my other au week thin, I'm just not in the mood to craft plots and write smut. I don't know. 

Title from ‘Jar of Hearts’ by Christina Perry

...

The day after the incident you wake with an itch in your throat. And as you stare at the white ceilings of your familiar bedroom, you get a feeling of foreboding. 

There's a yawning ache in your chest, a cavity that will never be filled. You don't want to get up. You don't want to suffer. You wish god would take you instead of him. But God is not a merciful creature, that you have come to know all too well. 

The dressing process is subdued, the soft feel of clothes on your skin not enough to dull the insistant pain, the large gaping hole in your chest that will never be filled.

You choke up lily petals in the bathroom.

𓇢𓆸

Your cross sits heavily against your breast, under your shirt. You don't typically wear one, the responsibility of God's eyes is too much for you to bear. 

But today you wear it in repentance. 

There's a tickle in your lungs, underwhelming compared to the aching gap in your chest. He’s stolen your heart, taken it with him in death. You turn your eyes to the sky, so as not to ruin your makeup with tears. 

You hate yourself for your pathetic lovesick nature. Yellow petals are choking up your throat, daffodils and chrysanthemums. You spit them into the grass before you enter the detective agency.

You don't need to burden them with your plight. At least not yet. 

𓇢𓆸

You look up the meanings of the flowers when you're in the office, your fingers trembling as you read the words. 

Lilys, purity. Daffodils, rejection. Chrysanthemums, slighted love. You choke down the tickle in your throat, closing the tabs with shaky fingers. 

“The meaning of flowers?” It's Ranpo, pearing curiously over your shoulder. You force a smile, perfect in your broken heart. 

“My friend wants a bouquet.” You tell him, shooing him away too his work. 

And as he meanders off, you congratulate yourself. At least until the petals choke up your throat and you slope away discreetly to the bathroom.

You throw up petals into the toilet. 

𓇢𓆸

A week after the incident you choke up an entire flower. It hurts, the thorny stems of a small rose, its petals a dark unnatural black. You crumple the delicate petals in your hand, muffling your tears into a towel before quickly reapplying your makeup. Covering your dark circles. You haven't been sleeping. 

Death's heavy hand is hovering over your head, weighing you down with the weight of your sin. The sin of eternal love. The sin of pure devotion. 

He stands behind you, death. With his hand on your shoulder, taunting you. He laughs at your misery, at your pain. He plays his melodies of death, his requiem, his Lacrimosa, truly a lady of sorrow. You shed enough tears and pain to be allowed the title, although you have yet to birth the son of god. You don't think you will. You know your death is around the corner. It will come when the bells toll, when the stems growing in your lungs eat at your insides. The pain drives you mad. You choke up as many flowers as you can before you leave for work. 

𓇢𓆸

“Name?” Atsushi says, his hands clutching the papers in his hands. He's a kind boy, cute and sweet. You spare him a small smile, biting back the petals in your throat. The boy shuffles his feet nervously. 

“Are you doing ok?” Atsushi asks, the question almost too much for your delicate sensibilities. You almost cry, try8ing your best to give him a smile. 

“Im doing well.” You reply, the weight of the lie hanging heavy on your chest, the cold metal of the cross judging you.

The boy leaves, called away but he still eyes you, worried.

You wish you fell for Atsushi instead, for his kindness, for his selflessness. 

𓇢𓆸

They're getting suspicious. This you know. But you smile and keep your mouth shut and muffle your choking as much as you can. You don't need to burden them any more than you already have. You must die without a fuss. 

You had long ago learned how to fool Ranpo, how to get around his almost all knowing intellect. For the key was withholding the crucial fact. Because he could not come to a conclusion without it, and you were sick in your misery. You could never burden them. Never bear to see their eyes of disappointment, their eyes of confusion.

‘How could you love him?’ you were sure they would say. 

You couldn't explain, you didn't know yourself. 

And then you couldn't stop the flowers that ripped out of your throat, spilling onto the office floor. The white petals of the lilies were stained red with blood. 

You didn't see much as you fainted. 

𓇢𓆸

You wake in the infirmary, a worried circle of your coworkers surrounding you. The worry on their faces almost makes you sob. You bite back the lilies as Yosano waves them away.

They file out single files, varying looks of confusion on their faces. The door slams. 

“How long do you have left?” It's Yosano, arms crossed, eyes disapproving. 

“About two weeks.” your voice is rough, choked. A petal falls from your lips.

“Is there no solution?” Yosano asks you, her voice choked with emotion. The sigh that escapes your lips is more than a thousand words.

“The dead cannot return the love of the living.” 

Yosano wipes her tears before you see them. 

“Rest.” She says, closing the door behind her.

𓇢𓆸

The meeting is solem, confused eyes meeting red rimmed eyes. All the eyes turn to Yosano as she enters the room, her own eyes red. Fukuzawa is the first one who dares the speak, from his place at the head of the table. 

“What is going on.”

Yosano sinks into a chair, hand scrubbing at her eyes. The words she speaks are damning.

“Hanahaki.” 

The room sinks into a tense silence, a broken silence, a confused silence. The emotions are a whirl in the room, the atmosphere choking, cloying, unpleasant. Someone muffles a sob into their clothes, Kenji or Atsushi or Naomi, it doesn't matter. Yosano composes herself, dropping plain information on the people in the room. 

“She's choking on Lilies and Daffodils, and she won't last much longer.” She says, the words plain and almost cruel. Kenji curls up into himself, his head resting on his knees. Kunikida, sitting beside him, pats his back. 

“Who is it?” It's Atsushi, his voice choked up, his eyes shining with unshed tears. The room is suddenly silent, waiting with bated breaths for the escape, the hope that this could end. Yosano hates to break their fragile hope, but she repeated the words you had said to her. 

“The dead cannot return the love of the living.”

𓇢𓆸

The green bottle sitting in your hand is your escape. Arsenic is a simple plan, easy to execute, to end your suffering. The lilies are choking your throat. You want to escape.

There are letters on your bed, piled around you, addressed to the ones you love. You don't want to leave them, but you don't want to suffer, 

The bottle is your escape. 

With a pop of finality, with a last look at the world around you, you drink the poison. It's tasteless, coloreless, odorless. 

It lulls you into your final sleep. You can see him, your doomed love. Fyodor, standing on the other side. You slip into death with open arms, broken hearted but peaceful. 

𓇢𓆸

Something is wrong. Atsushi feels it, the weight on his chest, the knowledge that you, a trusted coworker and beloved friend are going to die. And theres nothing to be done about it. The meeting is silent, as the words sink in, and then, it is exposed.

People are talking, arguing, yelling over each other, words and questions and angry accusations. Atsushi covers his ear, tears welling in his eyes. 

And then, that feeling, that horrible dawning feeling that something is wrong. Almost silent, he stands, slipping out of the infirmary door, Ranpo and Yosano on his heels. He can see the dread painted on their faces, the same dread that wells in his stomach, which eats him out from the inside. The hallway is short, the infirmary door at the very end, but it feels like forever, like the hallway will never end and you’ll die out of reach. 

But finally, they reach the door. 

It's quiet in the infirmary, the bed that you lay in still, letters scattered neatly around your body. You're too still. Atsushi flies forward, the other on his heels. 

Your face is serene in death, the lilies and chrysanthemums scattered around you, a makeshift memorial. There's a bottle beside your hand, empty. The label is a death sentence. 

“Arsenic.” its Ranpo, choked up and angry, his fists by his sides. Atsushi chokes on a sob. 

The infirmary door opens with a crack, the others joining them. The entire room hangs in a state of disbelief, of despair. And then the accusations fly. 

It's loud. Atsushi covers his ears, eyes dripping small tears onto the floor of the infirmary. He feels weak when he cries, but he’s sure the orphanage director will spare him this much. 

𓇢𓆸

You left them letters. Personal letters addressed to each of them, and even some for the port mafia members. They read them in the meeting room, solemn and silent. 

But there's one letter that sticks out, an unaddressed, blank envelope. They know they shouldn't open it. But they do, and it confirmed their fears and biases. 

For there are only a few words on the paper, a few damning words. 

“From my books surcease of sorrow—sorrow for the lost Lenore—

For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore—

            Nameless here for evermore.” 

𓇢𓆸

They bury you with Lilies, Carnations, and tears. The finality of death painted on your face.

...

Endnotes: I don't know, this exists now. The Raven is a favorite of mine, ever since i read it in middle school. Edgar Allan Poe(the real one) was one fucked up dude

also i know its a little cringy to bend on a poem but i honestly don't care

(also i wholeheartedly believe Fyodor is not dead, but im still crying over it. pathetic i know)

[g0nta-g0kuhara]

Recently been filling time by trying to think what the best possible course of action would be to prevent Kaito and Kokichi's deaths if I was plopped into v3 right at the beginning of chapter 5

[melodymorningdew]

I will no longer be taking criticism from people I would not ask for advice. 💅🏾 ✨ 😌

[epic-dragon-hell-99]

Fake (Ancient) dragon breed I made up based vaguely on this post; it didn't end up as simplistic as the original would imply (especially by Spore standards), and the suggestion of a dragon that's "all spikes and eyes" was difficult to resist. Nonetheless, I like how it turned out!

Decided to call them Lancet Dragons, after the prominent spine that more or less replaces a tail. The primary covers most of the body- although the belly's in a bit of an odd place, wrapping around the "lobes"; the secondary occurs around the neck and down the back, as well as on the frill and the lower proboscis.

More info + extra pics below the cut!

My drawing pad's drivers are screwy right now; that's part of why it doesn't quite look like most things I draw nowadays. To be fair, though, I'm rediscovering that thicker lines can be fun!

Design was influenced by various different organisms, most of which could be summarized by "some kind of worm or worm-like thing." However, I did give them a slightly anteater-like snout, if a stubby one; furthermore, while the first pair of eyes are more of a "general subterranean" look, the second were based more specifically off of the wrinkly-lidded lump eyes you see on, like, baby birds and occasionally lizards, and the third were kind of mudskipper-esque, kind of like a midpoint between a slug or snail and a frog. I imagine both of these larger pairs can be tucked into the head underground. Similarly, I imagine the proboscis as eversible, able to be "slurped" back into the mouth up to the mandibles, and the head likely tucks into the neck folds to some degree as well. The frill, of course, can be raised and lowered, much like the lizards' it's based off of.

For some bonus material, here's the artwork without the Smirch, as well as a .png copy of the base itself (since I accidentally drew it at 350x350px, instead of giving myself space for details):

In terms of lifestyle, I think these guys would be carnivores, but able to facultatively switch to a more plant-based diet by infesting dense roots (and mycelium, technically). Perhaps they could even inhabit the trunks of large trees? They'd mainly tunnel around in Plague's Pet Flesh Pit™, gnawing through rot and leeching nutrient-rich fluid from various pustules and venous structures. However, I imagine they could be mobilized as a devastating weapon against the ecology of any flight terrain with sufficient living biomass... Nature first and foremost.

I think their lore would revolve around having entered a sort of tardigrade-like vegetative state, somewhere between a deep hibernation and outright ceasing activity, only passively exchanging nutrients with their surroundings at most. This wouldn't be an unusual condition for them, though, but more a feature of the breed; an ability that lets them lay dormant for centuries at a time, like ancient bacteria trapped in permafrost. Normally, they would probably awaken when either a) conditions improved enough to support a higher metabolism, or b) they were forcefully excavated or otherwise injured. However, the whole breed probably could've burrowed deep into Plague territory and entered this state for the duration of the Plague-Nature truce, awakening when signaled to by the unrest at the surface. (I'm not sure if the timeline would line up, though...)

I imagine they don't usually fight, but their tail spines are used in self-defense when necessary, writhing about to wave them this way and that. (They probably have a decently nasty bite, too...) When it's not being used as a defensive feature (or perhaps an intimidating display), I imagine the tail spines are used to precision-inject their eggs into nutrient-dense locales, ovipositor-style. Maybe instead of traditional nests, they can form galls?

They aren't very big, probably around the size of a chunky Spiral. Furthermore, they'd probably have terrible vision, despite the tripled eye-count from standard breeds; it helps them see from more angles and gives them better depth perception (when aligned), but none of the eyes have particularly strong vision. This- plus the fact they have difficulty moving above ground, and tend to be ill-socialized in order to better share resources- means they have difficulty adapting to life with Modern clans. Not to mention they'd probably be agoraphobic to some degree, since they're so squishy.

They tend to like the dark, and often climb onto larger dragons in order to be carried around (and perhaps better simulate their natural habitat). However, they need to be taught not to opportunistically leech off of such dragons that accept this behavior, or at least to learn self-control; it's partially instinctive to parasitize their surroundings, but most dragons don't take kindly to getting nipped (much less to the very serious diseases they can carry).

That's about it for Lancet Dragons! This marks the second time I've made a full breed psd + gene mockup for a breed concept. Nowadays I'd probably consider the Ancient symbol a stylized Sandsurge, although I don't think it was designed as such. I still think Quakesteps were a cool concept, though! (Funny enough, both of these guys have alternate Secondary placements as opposed to wings. I feel like there's a lot of possibilities there that the FR team hasn't really delved into yet!)