#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

[halorvic]

The danger is clear and present: COVID isn’t merely a respiratory illness; it’s a multi-dimensional threat impacting brain function, attacking almost all of the body’s organs, producing elevated risks of all kinds, and weakening our ability to fight off other diseases. Reinfections are thought to produce cumulative risks, and Long COVID is on the rise. Unfortunately, Long COVID is now being considered a long-term chronic illness — something many people will never fully recover from. Dr. Phillip Alvelda, a former program manager in DARPA’s Biological Technologies Office that pioneered the synthetic biology industry and the development of mRNA vaccine technology, is the founder of Medio Labs, a COVID diagnostic testing company. He has stepped forward as a strong critic of government COVID management, accusing health agencies of inadequacy and even deception. Alvelda is pushing for accountability and immediate action to tackle Long COVID and fend off future pandemics with stronger public health strategies. Contrary to public belief, he warns, COVID is not like the flu. New variants evolve much faster, making annual shots inadequate. He believes that if things continue as they are, with new COVID variants emerging and reinfections happening rapidly, the majority of Americans may eventually grapple with some form of Long COVID. Let’s repeat that: At the current rate of infection, most Americans may get Long COVID.

[...]

LP: A recent JAMA study found that US adults with Long COVID are more prone to depression and anxiety – and they’re struggling to afford treatment. Given the virus’s impact on the brain, I guess the link to mental health issues isn’t surprising. PA: There are all kinds of weird things going on that could be related to COVID’s cognitive effects. I’ll give you an example. We’ve noticed since the start of the pandemic that accidents are increasing. A report published by TRIP, a transportation research nonprofit, found that traffic fatalities in California increased by 22% from 2019 to 2022. They also found the likelihood of being killed in a traffic crash increased by 28% over that period. Other data, like studies from the National Highway Traffic Safety Administration, came to similar conclusions, reporting that traffic fatalities hit a 16-year high across the country in 2021. The TRIP report also looked at traffic fatalities on a national level and found that traffic fatalities increased by 19%. LP: What role might COVID play? PA: Research points to the various ways COVID attacks the brain. Some people who have been infected have suffered motor control damage, and that could be a factor in car crashes. News is beginning to emerge about other ways COVID impacts driving. For example, in Ireland, a driver’s COVID-related brain fog was linked to a crash that killed an elderly couple. Damage from COVID could be affecting people who are flying our planes, too. We’ve had pilots that had to quit because they couldn’t control the airplanes anymore. We know that medical events among U.S. military pilots were shown to have risen over 1,700% from 2019 to 2022, which the Pentagon attributes to the virus.

[...]

LP: You’ve criticized the track record of the CDC and the WHO – particularly their stubborn denial that COVID is airborne. PA: They knew the dangers of airborne transmission but refused to admit it for too long. They were warned repeatedly by scientists who studied aerosols. They instituted protections for themselves and for their kids against airborne transmission, but they didn’t tell the rest of us to do that.

[...]

LP: How would you grade Biden on how he’s handled the pandemic? PA: I’d give him an F. In some ways, he fails worse than Trump because more people have actually died from COVID on his watch than on Trump’s, though blame has to be shared with Republican governors and legislators who picked ideological fights opposing things like responsible masking, testing, vaccination, and ventilation improvements for partisan reasons. Biden’s administration has continued to promote the false idea that the vaccine is all that is needed, perpetuating the notion that the pandemic is over and you don’t need to do anything about it. Biden stopped the funding for surveillance and he stopped the funding for renewing vaccine advancement research. Trump allowed 400,000 people to die unnecessarily. The Biden administration policies have allowed more than 800,000 to 900,000 and counting.

[...]

LP: The situation with bird flu is certainly getting more concerning with the CDC confirming that a third person in the U.S. has tested positive after being exposed to infected cows. PA: Unfortunately, we’re repeating many of the same mistakes because we now know that the bird flu has made the jump to several species. The most important one now, of course, is the dairy cows. The dairy farmers have been refusing to let the government come in and inspect and test the cows. A team from Ohio State tested milk from a supermarket and found that 50% of the milk they tested was positive for bird flu viral particles.

[...]

PA: There’s a serious risk now in allowing the virus to freely evolve within the cow population. Each cow acts as a breeding ground for countless genetic mutations, potentially leading to strains capable of jumping to other species. If any of those countless genetic experiments within each cow prove successful in developing a strain transmissible to humans, we could face another pandemic – only this one could have a 58% death rate. Did you see the movie “Contagion?” It was remarkably accurate in its apocalyptic nature. And that virus only had a 20% death rate. If the bird flu makes the jump to human-to-human transition with even half of its current lethality, that would be disastrous.

[knifebaby3000]

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

[muzsmocsing]

old man jenkins escaped the geriatric ward again

[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💔)

[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

[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

[alwaysthefool]

Hurts Like Heaven (Dazai x You)

warnings; death, angst, disease, unrequited love, double suicide mention

tags; hanahaki disease

[Author's note: Obligatory definition of hanahaki disease (from fanlore dot com lol)-- Hanahaki Disease is a fictional disease in which the victim coughs up flower petals when they suffer from one sided love. It ends when the beloved returns their feelings (romantic love only; strong friendship is not enough), or when the victim dies. In this variation, the reader's symptoms peak up when they actually see Dazai. There's no surgery option in this one 😈]

Fuck, not him again. You could almost cry as you saw Dazai at the cafe, flirting with the waitress, making jokes again. There was no way he wouldn't know as your situation was at its worst, and you couldn't run out because you weren't in the physical condition to. The most you could do was hide your face in your arms and pray he didn't see you. You had decided not to get coffee that day, settling with just green tea to make yourself feel a little better, but you knew just seeing him would give you at least a week's worth of dreams. Just the thought hurt so much. Dazai, who had never outright rejected you, who you could never tell your feelings to, scared of the fatal rejection, but more so, rationally knowing you couldn't give him the love he needed, and he couldn't love you. Your worlds were too different-- you couldn't begin to understand him-- and his heart was elsewhere, unable to love again. You were similar too, both sad with an evil past and tragic fates. The only difference was, unlike you, he could be saved. 

And thus, you let that little dandelion seed of a wish fly out of your hand, only for it to bloom as a petal in your lungs.

You had known him for only a year and started to like him for less than and a half, and it would kill you in only a matter of weeks.

You'd just smile and hide your pain whenever you saw him, excusing yourself and going around back to cough up blood and petals. That didn't hurt as much, neither did knowing you'd die, but what hurt was seeing him. It hurt like heaven. There he was again, with that smile, those eyes that hid a world you couldn't begin to understand, those bandages that you knew hid more than scars, that hair, those hands you wished so badly to touch, even if it would kill you. Death? Blood? What was that? The only thing that caused any substantial pain was the longing, and you wanted so bad to quash it. Your solution was avoiding him and forgetting all about him eventually, no matter how long it took. As long as he didn't appear before you, it would be okay. So why, still, did you decide to stay in the city?

"If it isn't [Name]!" That rich voice chimed, and you heard the chair across you being pulled. Of course he saw you. Of course it would be like that. Of course you couldn't get your night's rest.

Part of your heart bloomed with feelings, and the other wished you hadn't stepped out of your house that day.

You removed your hands from your face, and gave him a weak smile, trying your best not to let the ache in your chest show.

"I feel like I never see you anymore." He pouted those perfect lips as an extremely deadly joke, forcing a few coughs out of you. You immediately turned away, and hid the blood and petals in your handkerchief.

"Holy shit, are you okay?" As if nothing missed his eye, he exclaimed "Is that blood?!"

"Um." You composed yourself again, despite all the pain, thinking of a lie. "Yeah, actually I... I have pulmonary hemosiderosis."

You thanked the knowledge that came from 20 seasons of Grey's, but also slightly cringed at having to keep up a ridiculous lie in front of a detective.

"Do you need any help?" To your dismay, Dazai stood up and sat beside you, putting a hand on your shoulder, making you feel like you'd explode there and then.

Three weeks of bedrest, five weeks of bad dreams, and an even shortened lifespan.

"Please get away from me." You almost cried, closing your eyes and jerking him off reluctantly.

"Alright, just relax, okay?" Even then, he was so cool as you heard him take his original seat. You slowly opened your eyes again, knowing you'd made a mess of your image in front of him. Perhaps his concerned eyes hid a resentment for you, but you didn't care. You just loved him.

"Yeah, sorry, it can be contagious." You lied, knowing he could go home and google that it was not, and hoped he didn't care about you enough to but Dazai stared at you with a look of absolute sternness. Of course he wouldn't believe your lies. But do you know? I wish you knew.

"That so?" He spoke in a way it didn't sound like a question. "Anyway, you do not seem well. Please let me take you to the hospital. Or Yosano, if you're more comfortable with that."

You had already been to Yosano once before, and she told you she couldn't cure that, wishing you all the best as you lied and told her the person you liked already rejected you. He didn't even like you enough as a friend. You were nothing to him, but the unfair universe made him mean so much to you. It wasn't like you didn't understand him. You did, and deeply, but something had gone wrong in both of your destinies that made you end up that way. Dazai was worlds apart from you, and you couldn't reach him. Maybe that pretty girl he had been talking to recently would, maybe someone like Chuuya could, maybe his friends from the agency could, but not you. No, you were just an acquaintance.

And at that moment, you realised no matter how much you tried to ignore him, it wouldn't help-- that you'd die, and you'd feel happy about it. You lost everything to someone like that, all your dreams, your precious life, your esteem and confidence, only for love. Did your life mean nothing beyond that? If you told him, and he reciprocated your feelings, you'd still die from his inciting dream of a double suicide. If he rejected you, you'd die alone. Maybe not doing anything and taking that impossible chance to make your life your own would mean something, despite the disease having a 100% fatality rate if the feelings are not reciprocated.

"No, this is normal, trust me." You finally gave him a reassuring smile. "Besides, I don't think hospitals can help anymore."

"What?" He looked shocked, reaching out to take your hand, and you let him, comforting him instead by rubbing a fragile thumb on his palm . Did he really not know? Why did he look so shocked? Did he care? Those feelings overcame you, and you coughed a little more, apologizing quickly.

"Please tell me there's a way."

You took a deep breath. "Mine's a special case. Even with surgery, there's no chance."

"No..." Dazai looked away from you, outside the window, that pained and distant expression you'd fallen for crossing his face. In that moment, you finally understood it. It was a longingness for something.

"It's fine, buddy." You pulled your hand away from him owing to the ache in your lungs. "I still want to try, you know. I want to live." He still did not look at you as he put his chin on his shaking palm. "And I wish the same for you."

He forced a smile, finally looking at you with those same dead eyes you were always curious about. Now you knew that it meant despair. Dazai was a poem you could only decipher at the brink of your death, and he was far more beautiful and pure than he knew he was.

"If I could, I'd give up my worthless life for yours."

You commanded your lungs and heart to keep at bay, as if telling death you needed a moment before peacefully accepting its call.

"Your life isn't worthless, you know. You did so many good deeds. If you feel like dying, maybe it's because you just need purpose."

Dazai's eyes widened, and it was as if, for a moment, you thought he could love you back, and things would work out, that you could save him and yourself. But those moments were always fleeting, because you knew you had no purpose either, and you'd fall into his vices like you'd fallen for him.

"Do you think you can manage a walk? The weather's beautiful today."

Dazai helped you up, and held you tightly as the two of you walked out, the blossoms from the trees flying about. The scene was almost like a movie, and you knew you were at the end, using the last of your strength to walk, the disease taking over your body completely, the pain being nothing just because he was holding you.

"You're right." You breathed. "It's beautiful. I-"

You wanted to say more to him, you wanted to be held for a little longer, you had so many dreams, and so much you wanted, but your body finally gave out, as you violently coughed blood and petals, Dazai catching you as your feet lost their hold.

"[Name]!" He yelled as he held you in his lap, scrambling his head to find a way to help you somehow, pausing when he saw the petals blossom out of your mouth. Although the thought of you loving someone else hurt him deeply, he still begged you to tell you who it was, whether you had confessed, if there was a chance.

"Hey..." You croaked through tears and coughs. "It's okay, friend. I'm happy to die in your arms."

"Don't say that! You're not dying!" He wished he knew you better to figure out who it was, and you wished he knew you better to know it could be no one else but him. That no one had showed you the kindness he had shown you, that no one helped you life he did, that no one understood you like he did. You were so happy just to have known him. He made your life better despite also making it end; he made it beautiful and gave it a little meaning.

However, you weren't strong enough to tell him all of that, so you chose your final words carefully. "Thank you for everything, Dazai. I was happy to have loved you."

He held you tightly as your eyes closed, those persistent flowers that had plagued you so finally withering as your breathing stopped. He wanted to cry, he wanted to scream at you for not telling him, knowing you could be saved because he loved you too. He wished you knew that you could've saved him, that you were enough for him, that he'd overcome his own insecurities and pursued you first instead.

And in the midst of all that regret as he did nothing but hold your still warm form, a single petal bloomed in his lung.

[vagun1ka]

i have thoughts about asta and bronya redesigns

[melodymorningdew]

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

[transmechanicus]

Kind of hard to ask as anon

But you doing ok?

Need to vent?

Hi very kind and thoughtful of you to ask, i am doing mmmmm suboptimal but i do not need to vent to a person per se, so much as i need to say absolutely insane shit in my tags and have everyone pretend not to see <3