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centers-for-disease-control · 9 months

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Alright, due to popular request, I bring you the break down of the Taiwan Disease Personifications. Also, just so y’all know, the official explanations for the designs are not easy to find, so a lot of this is just from what I notice and what I know about the diseases

To start off, we have everyone’s favorite disease: COVID-19

So, this is one of the designs where I could actually find the artist explanation, so I will be including that information plus a couple things I noticed and how I think it fits the disease. So let’s start with to crown. The reason for the inclusion of the crown is the reflect the name coronavirus, corona being the Latin word for crown. The face is partially obscured because of COVID’s tendency to hide itself. The bean bag chair that they are sitting on has many protrusions signifying the spike proteins. The different digital devices represent how the world went virtual during the pandemic and the news channels behind them represent the media’s freak out when COVID was at its height. The floor has an outline of the world because everywhere was affected by the pandemic. Also, if you look closely, they are wearing little Covid earrings.

Next up, we got Zika:

I could not find an official artist statement for this design, so take my explanation with a grain of salt. So first off the red waist band reminds me of the red stripe that goes down the abdomen of the mosquito species that spreads Zika after it has fed. Also, the white markings on the black are also a characteristic of this species of mosquito. In fact, the design is the stripes on the chest look like the markings these mosquitoes have on their back. She presents female because it’s the female mosquitoes that bite and spread diseases. Her sleeves look like mosquito wings once again a reference to mosquitoes being the primary vectors of Zika. The area behind her has palm fronds to represent that Zika is a disease typically found in tropical climates.

Next up we have: Hansen’s Disease (aka Leprosy)

This is one where I could find the artist statement due to it being a pretty recent one, however, I will say that at least the translation was a bit lacking in describing the reasoning of every detail. She is a mask maker because leprosy changes how people perceive those who are infected but it is something that can easily be removed with modern antibiotics. She has different accessories like the lion and crocodile headpiece that implicate the divine involvement because leprosy has been historically thought to be a punishment of the gods. The scales on her arm look like an allusion to the scaling pattern scars that those with leprosy would develop.

Next up: Rubella

After a lot of digging I found the official profile for this design but it didn’t really explain the design choices so we are going to do more analysis on my end. So the pomegranate and the red dots represent the red rashes that come with rubella infections. The glasses I assume are to show how Rubella can lead to Congenital Rubella Syndrome (CRS) which can occur in children if their mother had rubella while pregnant. One of the symptoms that comes with CRS is cataracts.

Next up: the plague

I found the explanation on this and it just confirmed my own suspicions for certain design choices. So her design is very focused on death and mysticism because of how the Black Plague led to a lot of cultural focus on these two ideas. Behind her are old coins because of the economic impact the plague had on the civilizations of its time. The references to death are the skeletal pattern on her dress, and the scythe behind her and on her belt. The references to mysticism include the tarot cards she is holding and the crosses on her hat. On the tarot cards are designs referencing the three different forms the plague takes (bubonic, septicemic, and pneumonic) as well as a posey which was used to try to ward of the plague in old times. On her hat is also a collection of plague doctor masks which is pretty self explanatory as to how that connects.

Next up: Ebola

I couldn’t find the official explanation for this disease, so this is mostly speculation based on my analysis. Her outfit is red because of the hemorrhaging that comes with the disease. Specifically he lips are red because one of the more unique characteristics of Ebola is hiccuping up blood. The accessories seem to be inspired by central and western african traditional jewelry. There appear to be tribal masks on the necklace, I am not well versed in African art unfortunately, so any deeper meaning of these accessories are unfortunately lost on me. There are bats on the headdress because of bats being the natural host of Ebola. Her design is rather demonic because Ebola was so terrible for the areas affected, that people thought it could be caused be some great evil. The skulls are because of the extremely high death rate that comes with ebola. The leaves and fruits shown come from the African jungles which is typically where Ebola outbreaks start.

Next up: Novel Influenza A Virus Infections

I actually found the artist explanation for this design! As a disease closely associated with birds, there are many elements linked to birds. There are many bird shadows, the hair that looks like feathers, and the beak shaped mask, feathers on his tie and a feather tattoo on right arm, and the “H-N” pin (H and N proteins of the influenza virus).

Next up: Dengue Fever

Another one with an artist statement! Since only female mosquitoes bite, the character is set as a female. Her dark red lips represent mosquito’s instinct to bite, and she is holding a poisonous thornapple flower. She has mosquito wings tattooed on her back and thornapple flower tattooed on her arm. I have spent a long time looking into how the thornapple flower relates to dengue, but I haven’t had a lot of luck. From what I have seen is that the roots, seeds, and leaves are used in some traditional medicines, including treatments for malaria, but I have not had luck finding how it is connected to Dengue specifically.

Next up: Japanese Encephalitis

I found the artist statement for this disease as well. The disease is visualized into three characters that form a pop group, with their names reflecting the 3 main Culex mosquito species that spread Japanese encephalitis in Taiwan, which are Culex tritaeniorhynchus (Three), Culex annulus (Ring), and Culex fuscocephala (Shiro). They wear black and white, like the colors of the Culex mosquitoes. Red accessories represent their love for blood. I don’t have much to add outside of the artist explanation.

Last one for now is: Rabies

I found the explanation for this one, but it is not descriptive at all, so I am going to be going into every detail because this is Rabies. The spikes on the jacket and pant legs represent the protein spikes rabies uses to infect nerves. The blue jacket and gloves are representing water as one of the unique characteristics of rabies is hydrophobia (physical repulsion to water). The claw marks on the shirt show the animalistic tendencies the virus brings out. The violin players in the animal mask show how the virus can hide in these animals. The personification of rabies is holding a conductor’s wand showing how rabies controls those who are infected. The teeth necklace shows how it spreads through bites and they are standing on the brain because that is what rabies infects. He has a chain with mammal skulls once again tying back to rabies being a fatal mammalian disease. The belt buckle has a bone on it as bone are associated with bones and rabies is associated with dogs.

#centers for disease control #covid #Zika #hansen’s disease #leprosy #rubella #plague #ebola #influenza #novel influenza a virus infection #japanese encephalitis #rabies #blood mention #taiwan cdc #personified diseases #long post

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sarcasticbambi · 8 months

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Coffee's Hanahaki Hours 2.0 "For You, I'll Be An Entire City of Flowers In Full Bloom"

He rejected her, and yet, she still couldn't bring herself to stop loving him.

Coffee's Hanahaki Hours 2.0

Day 3: Tulips + Infinite

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“I’m sorry, I can’t reciprocate your feelings. I’m already in love with someone else. And I’m happy with them.”

I’m already in Love with someone else.

Never have seven words hurt more than at that moment.

It was like her whole world had crumbled in that exact moment.

And I’m happy with them.

She was already coughing up almost entire yellow tulips, and with a rejection? What would be of her?

With the meaning of her cursed flower, she thought she’d have a happy ending with him. A life of infinite happiness.

Never did she think she could have misinterpreted the meaning of the flowers and vines growing spreading all over her lungs and holding her breath captive. She only looked up the meaning of the flowers she was coughing up, but now, she regrets not having looked up the meaning of the colour too.

Maybe there was a way around it, so many people have misunderstood the meaning of their flowers and still ended up with their loved one.

A quick search was all she needed.

UNRETURNED OR UNREQUITED LOVE.

Those words glared at her through the screen of her phone. She was completely and utterly doomed.

Against Tikki’s advice to just leave it, she kept on scrolling down on the page. Maybe Tikki was right, she shouldn’t have scrolled down because now her head was filled with words that further proved her doomness.

Cowardice.

She was a coward indeed. She should have been more confident in herself and her feelings. She should have confessed sooner.

Jealous.

She was jealous. Jealous of the target of his affections. Affections she wanted for herself and herself only.

Sickness.

Well, there’s nothing she can say for this one now, is there?

Deceit.

She should definitely receive the prize of most illuded person in the world. Because if there's something Marinette has always done and will forever do (not that there's that much time left anyways), is deceive herself with fantasies of a future that would never be.

But even now, knowing that her life was on the line, she couldn’t bring herself to stop loving him.

He was the one at her side when she was on her lowest, the one to help her when she needed him the most. He was her day to day Robin.

It was almost impossible to stop loving him when so much of her time and thoughts was spent around him.

Would she actually end up dying of heartbreak? She’s seen news and even had some people around her that had suffered the same fate that awaited her.

Her parents were trying to convince her to get it removed, she was already in the last couple of weeks of the infection, it was a matter of time until her body eventually crumbled over it.

They were so desperate they asked her friends to try and convince her - but they would never be able to understand what she was actually feeling, to understand what it felt like to love someone so wholeheartedly you were willing to die for them to have their happy ending. They would never get it because they all got their happy ending after all, having had their feelings reciprocated by the one they loved.

By the time her body succumbed to the disease - because she would rather die loving him than live without knowing just how important he was to her - Gotham would be comparable to the Keukenhof Gardens, the only difference was the stained red on the petals from the blood caused by the strength with which she coughed.

Laying in bed, Marinette coughed up another blood stained tulip and, and even when she could feel her imminent ending right around the corner, she could only think of midnight haired man for who she was willing to take over an entire city with the Yellow Tulips representing her love for him.

A tear fell from her bluebell eyes, and, for the last time, Marinette DuPain-Cheng closed her eyes.

#dc x mlb #daminette #timinette #open pairing #you choose #marinette has hanahaki disease #sad ending #can't believe I actually wrote something sad #I'm fluff personified #angst #sad #made me cry while writing #but that may be because I'm so soft to write sad stuff #hanahaki disease would suck irl #yellow tulips #flower language #Day 3 of HH2.0

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raineedayss · 3 days

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fun little artist tip for when your burntout but at the same time NEEED to Make The Character-use gacha! or picrew! both are good for getting the idea out of the brain and onto something you can see-example, the photo i added here, which is a gacha version of whats basically my main oc, Anex! [i know i made a post a while back about liking neon green and i need to find it.] i want to draw them but my hands physically will not allow me, so i just took a couple minutes to make them here and call it a day. very easy.

edit-found it.

#gacha community #gacha life 2 #rainee rants about the most obscene topics #im actually really proud of her design tho #even though part of it wont work in gacha :( {she’s supposed to have part of her ribs visible and a bone sticking out of whats supposed to #be her pinky finger!} still a useful way to get them on metaphorical paper.#it’s probably hard to tell but shes somewhat based off of CWD (chronic wasting disease)#hence the mention of part of her body (stomach) rotting and the antlers!#why im choosing something based off that to personify myself on the internet? it looks cool and is an interesting topic thats why!

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my-names-kris · 10 months

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i have a take many ppl wont like:

sanses like adhd sans and anxiety sans are basically just that thing where diseases were personified as an anime character but this time its just sans.

#utmv #undertale au #not calling those disorders a disease tho #its just a health condition being personified

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shcherbatskya · 2 years

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holding the broken remnants of ancient roman history as portrayed in rick riordan novels in my arms and crying into its corpse. we could’ve had so much… it didn’t always have to be like this…

#my favorite thing is to personify my interests and then make them diseased and or dying when the time calls for it.#btw me and ancient rome were lovers as per my anniversary posts. if you’re not caught up on the lore.#samael speaks

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running-with-kn1ves · 6 months

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BELONGINGS

Orc x Kidnapped human reader (Gender neutral)

A/N: Literally NO ONE asked for this but I kept seeing all those shrek/swamp romance tiktoks and got inspired to do some orc stuff. Man I love orcs... like big dumb bugs personified. (also ignore the experimental latin pet names idk what im doing)

CW: Kidnapping, forceful holding, arson, raiding, kind of just angst fluff?

Word count: 2600

You knew the excitement of your life would never move past the blandness of day-in day-out work to survive, not as one without any bestowed or taught brow-raising talents that could lift you away from the mundane daily life you held in the wispy fields of the woodlands.

As a realist you concurred that you’d never be the breadwinner in your family, maybe not the strongest when hauling crops, or the smartest when it came to solving passed down arithmetic equations from your cousins’ old school books. But as a child you always took comfort in the thought ‘at least I won’t be chained down, won’t be tied to some ugly pig farmer for a couple shillings.’ Your family valued you that much; well-- your working hands, that much. ‘One more body is one more mouth to feed’ you were told time and time again, but you pulled your weight and then some.

You had little time to think outside of planting, weeding, bathing and eating. Meals and getting rid of the dirt covering your soles that you were scolded for after hours of being in the damp pastures were the only down time you had to yourself, not surrounded by the screaming nieces and nephews you were expected to take care of when the elder of your family members eventually passed from whatever disease ran rampant in the village the coming winter. You prepared your life, prepared for taking care of others and continuing your hard work in growing what you needed to survive, and selling what you didn’t.

Unfortunately, that humdrum future was wiped out by swirling flames and the braying of stallions of mountainous size. They came in, trampling the greening cranberry bush you were planning to keep all to yourself, and the cabbages your family would have relied on for meals for the next two months before winter fell.

Persimmon trees were burnt to crispy thorned stumps, the lush of your family’s acres now shredded to flecks of dead grass and muddy hoof prints, along with humanoid footsteps far too large to resemble any of the humans or disfigured hybrids in your teensy rural hamlet. Who were these unwelcomed strangers, the enormous creatures of the night that disrupted the only human civilization for miles around? You remained clueless for the entirety of being ripped out of your bed, continuing to be hauled over some olive-colored shoulder and thrown into a sack on the back of a wagon.

“This one.” You heard, right before your dirty finger nails were pulled away from your twin beds fading sheets you desperately tried to keep. You had even managed to bring a small, lumpy pillow along with you, the creature that slung you over their shoulder leaving no assumption of a notice. You witnessed the still-burning remnants of your frail thatched home, as the silhouette of a muscular man lowered a flamed stick to its leftovers.

The entirety of the bumpy ride to wherever your captors were bringing you to, you could only think of the fires holding onto the greenery of your land, of the dirt and rubble and smoke that clawed at your feet when you tripped into the wagon, burnt air choking you as a baby screamed out for its mother.

Hours must’ve passed before you were brought into this musky, dank room with other fading faces from your village, but it only felt like a few moments ago that you heard the crackling of a fiery tree crushing rows of perking crops.

The snapping of fingers nearly as grimy as your own blocked your recollection of clouded smoke and angry flames, bringing your attention back to the leather hut you sat domestically within. It was damp and dark inside, the light of torches outside being the only form of light. That, and the reflection of the metal on the warrior in front of you. He turned back, thumbing toward you as he looked at a similar creature.

“Agh, its no use, practically fucking deaf this one. Sure you don’t want one of the mothers?”

The other orc slapped his fellow warrior on the shoulder with a hearty laugh.

“No, my friend. Besides, sweet things’ only other option is Brutus. Don’t think he could last with one of these poor creatures without splitting it in two; ‘specially this one.”

You were suddenly and acutely aware of the orcs conversation, now that your fate was being so clearly decided in front of you.

The first, far sootier orc patted his fellow brethren on the chest as he turned away with a look that showed he was hardly convinced. Yet, he still walked out of the tented hut, ducking slightly to fit under it.

You watched him leave, feeling a sense of relief as the threat had been removed. And yet, there was still one so prevelantly in front of you.

“Hey there.” A guttural, almost faltering voice murmured to you.

Eyes growing wide, you gripped harder onto the smushed pillow in your lap, instinctively leaning your upper body backward to get away from the orcish face right in front of you.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” The orc gruffed, falling to a crouch as he watches you slide to the edge of the hut’s leather wall. “Just wanna see you up close.”

He consumed the entirety of your fearful attention, his existence like a heavy weight in the room as the quiet tension aimed at him. You pushed your head painfully against a wood pole behind the leather walls, trying to morph your body any distance away that would provide you a miniscule fraction of comfort. But none came, especially not when a sudden warm finger pushed into your cheek. The green thumb pulled your upper lip, showing the ends of your teeth. Your other cheek smushed into your eye as the orc did the same to the other side, observing your poor excuse for chompers compared to his large, well-groomed tusks.

“Guess these’ll do. You can atleast chew meat, right?” he pulled your jaw open gently, making your lips part. “Don’t wanna have to feed you like a baby bird; though, that wouldn’t be the worst of troubles.”

You slapped his hand away, grimacing at the idea of being fed by this beast-creature.

“I can eat perfectly fine.” You grumble, noticing how stiff the orcs arm was, still holding out beside your face as it rests dejected. “What does that matter, aren’t you going to eat me anyway?”

You keep a frown on your face, glaring up at the crouched brute.

He let out a hearty laugh, those around you turning away from their miserable memories to face the strident disturbance.

“So cute, as if you’d be enough to feed an orcling!” He let out another chestful of a laugh, grabbing at your cheek this time with a pinch. “My little to-be spouse, I knew you’d be worth the trouble.”

Wincing in pain, your fingers came up to try and pry his rough, printless thumb off your salty skin.

“So adorable,” He throatily squealed, dragging you closer by the cheek to stumble into his chest. The only thing covering the caverned flesh of deep holes and ravined slices in his skin were straps of bull leather, and the furs of cottontails sewn to form a thin shawl around his bulky shoulders.

He smelled of a foreign musk, the slight piquant scent of his skin being swallowed in by your nostrils as your lips smushed against the dip in the middle of his chest. Something sharp poked into the side of your face as you were held tightly against the orc, making you muffle against him to let you go.

“You’re right you’re right; we should have some privacy-- and you, should get a chance to see your new home. My home.” He huffed against your ear, humid breath making your neck sweat as tusks touched the top of your head. “Name’s Xerxes, don’t forget it-- make sure you tell it to any orcs that try n’ talk to you.”

“Wait now--” Your aimed attempt of protesting was cut wrongly short by the sudden grab of your ankles, Xerxes beginning to stand back up as he dragged you with him. Before you knew it you were upside down, hollering as fat fingers made their way around your tibia. A shoulder jutted into your soft stomach, throat heaving as Xerxes began to move. You saw your lone pillow left on the ground, growing farther away as the large legs belonging to your captor moved from below your vision.

With every huge step he took, the harsh necklaces of teeth (which you prayed belonged to animals) dug into your side-- huh, so that must’ve been what was scraping against your face earlier. They clinked together as he walked, his body so rigid and unorthodox that he made a sound whenever he moved, whether it be a snorted grunt or the stomp from his feet, or the shift of his clothes and sheathed weapons.

Xerxes didn’t open the leather flap of the hut sahe carried you out, walking straight as it brushed across your head. You shut your eyes in an unavoidable flinch, but the orc hardly noticed as he adjusted you on his shoulder, grabbing right below your thighs to hold you steady.

The brilliant idea of beating and scratching his back enough to get free was so enticing you were on the brink of trying it-- but the orc standing outside the hut you just left, the unfamilliar darkness of the grasslands surrounding you, made you think twice.

And just like that, your world spun and you were tossed inside what must’ve been another tent, a blur of oranges from fiery torches and grey browns of animal hide entering your vision. Something soft hit your back as you let out an ‘oof!’ from the depths of your chest.

You scrambled to get back up, alert now that you were thrown in some different environment. But as you clambered to look around, whipping your head from side to side, all you saw were reddish walls of leather and two warm torches, along with the occasional spread of a map or a scribed foreign language.

This tent was much smaller than the last, not meant for a community to rest in. Instead, it was about the snug and spacious size of a room for only one to sleep in. The softness of hairs touched your palms, layers upon layers of furs covering beneath you to create a small lump of a warm, makeshift bed.

“Look at this,” An excited, guttural voice begged of you. “Been keeping it since forever; saw it in some… abandoned goblin grotto, once. Couldn’t help but take it with me as a memento. As soon as I saw it, I just knew it’d be the perfect gift for my future amasiuncula.”

You could taste the lie on your tongue, as if it was thick in the air once he spoke it. Orcs didn’t just ‘find’ things, the destruction of your teensy village showed you that much. But that didn’t matter, not when the piercing blue of a silk fabric dazzled at you. Why, you had never seen something so plush in your life. It was surely just a base blanket-like piece likely once spooled for the future of becoming some sort of clothing or undergarment; it was still so silkenly smooth nonetheless. Your fingers traced the perfect fabric, its sensation nothing you had ever felt in your years of living as a farming peasant. The softest thing you’d ever touched were the baby calfs your far neighbors had bred into existence.

“See how soft it is?” Xerxes said with a slight sputter, bringing the silk to your cheek. “Like a cloud… it’s yours. My engagement present.”

You looked back up at him bewildered. “Engagement?”

“A present. Orc tradition is to offer a gift of richness; the wealthiest thing I could get my hands on.” He covered you in the silk, wrapping your shoulders in it as he pulled you from the furs to his bare lap. You would’ve resisted given the chance, but the orc smugly kept the silk around your arms, bringing the other side of it to wrap around you, pulling it tight; you could hardly move yourself now, shoved in this warm softness of a cocoon; it frightened you. But the tusks pressed against your cheek, chewed lips touching your temple as a tongue gently poked out to swiftly press against your skin, made you fear something else more. “Always wanted a human..” The orc exhaled, audibly sniffing in the scent of your hair. “Been looking for a good once for a while now. One that’ll be nice and docile, a sweet little foal for me to enjoy--”

You slid your arms against the suffocating silk that was beginning to build heat. “I don’t think i’m what you’re looking for, besides I’m not--”

“Oh but you are,” Xerxes cut you off, leaning his orcish face close to yours to make you look at him. “So.. soft, your skin is like obsidian smoothed and frosted by the tumbling of waves of the sea, so polished and spotted I can’t help but want to keep it in between my fingers.”

Beads hung low by his neck, attached to rings of metal that pierced large holes in his pointed ears. The black and silver balls that dangled would jingle when he moved his head to get a better look at you, along with the wire and metal ornaments wrapped around the braids in his hair. Despite the undercut he fashioned (that you could see better now), a great mane of thick brown hair traveled to his shoulders, tickling your neck as he squeezed you closer. You felt almost like a baby, swaddled and pressed close to his large beating heart that thumped against your shoulder.

“And oh your dainty little fingers and toes, when I saw them peeking from your bedsheets I knew grabbing them with would be no mistake.”

The orc nuzzled into you with his flat nose, warmth spreading against your cheeks as his sunken face created friction. You always sort of thought your fingers were quite round, your toes a little mishappen, but compared to him, your entirety was merely like a child’s straw doll’s.

“I don’t want to marry you!” You blurted, freezing as the orc kept himself nestled against you. “I wanna go home, I want to go back to my bed and forget this-- I'm not some little trinket to mate with!"

Xerxes gave you a look. It was so smushy, an embarrassed grin like some pubescent boy watching his crush undress. It was perverted, so snickeringly crude as he bit his lip at the word "mate."

Ahh, he heard his fellow warriors, his chief in command even, discuss their "mates" with lustful wonder and candied eyes that danced with images of their beloved, their spouse. He had never had a person, never had a soft warm thing at night to hold, for him to bully himself into; it was hard to contain the joy inside of him, even with your rapid repeating of "no no no!"

"Mate…" He repeated.

"I said NOT to--"

"But you said it; and now… I can't get it out of my head, dulcis." Xerxes was snug against your wiggling chest, pressing his freckled cheek against yours to make your lips pucker. He was unbelievably, fiery warm, with a heat under his skin that you wondered was just a layer of embers.

The mixture of the orcs body heat and the humid equinox night made sweat cling to your dirty skin, the satin coddling you now feeling stickier. “Now, I s’pose its time we get you looking like a proper orc, smelling like one too. Like me,” Xerxes pressed his tusked mouth below your ear, protruding lips pressing a deep, slightly nipping kiss to below the corner of your jaw. “Get rid of this disgusting… exhilarating human stench.”

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abominationimperatrix · 2 years

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A short list of extremely-specific lesser-known mythical monster tropes which I didn’t expect to be super widespread:

1. Ogres which, when slain, spawn huge amounts of mosquitoes out of their bodies.

2. Humanoid horrors that lurk at the tops of cliffs and kick passerbies down off of the ledge so that their mates and/or offspring can kill them.

3. Depraved ex-human cannibals for whom one of their feet has rotten away into a spike of bone which they then stab people with.

4. Creatures which resemble pitiful old men and beg people to carry them but their legs are actually tentacle-like “straps” which they use to kill or enslave their victims.

5. Hairy ogres with axe-heads sticking out of their chests.

6. Grotesque female humanoids with enormous, pendulous breasts, one of which they throw over their shoulder. (That last detail specifically shows up more times than you would think possible.)

7. Flying detachable heads. Organs hanging down frequent but optional.

8. The “animal that cannot lie down,” i.e. a monster without joints in its limbs that, you guessed it, cannot lie down and has to lean on things.

10. So. Many. Backwards. Feet. Usually as a means of making trackers think they went in the opposite direction.

11. Swallowers. I.e., monsters that swallow huge amounts of victims but keep them inside in their stomachs before spitting them out when slain. Most famously present in Sub-Saharan Africa, but basically everywhere.

12. Bisected humanoids. Creatures with only half a physical body, cut vertically.

13. Headless monsters with faces on their chests.

14. Natal revenants. The undead remains of women who die in childbirth, usually as some sort of ghostly Succubus.

15. Female creatures with hollow backs, the main giveaway of their supernatural nature.

16. Living meteor demons that spread disease.

17. Chicken-snake hybrids.

18. Rattite-snake hybrids.

19. Parrot-snake hybrids.

20. Monsters that fly around in the atmosphere, and if you look at them you die. (Related to number 16.)

21. In arid regions, RAINBOW TASTE YOU. (Because it signals the end of much-needed rain and is therefore seen in a negative light and personified as something malicious.

22. Owl demons! Tend to be witchy/hag-like.

23. Succubi whose only giveaway of their monstrousness is a single hooved foot.

24. People cursed into becoming weird donkey-things.

25. River blockers. Monsters who block off water supplies in order to cause droughts, and must be slain for that reason.

26. Monsters who inflict some kind of seemingly unsurvivable body horror on you, before resurrecting you long enough to go home at which point you promptly die for reals this time.

And many, many, more, but I’m tired right now. Might update later.

Update: Wow! I did not expect this blow up, or for this many people to be interested! This was very spur of the moment and off the top of my head, I assumed I would just be infodumping into the void. I’m going to write up examples for all of these, I’m just going to need a little bit of time to get my sources in order to make sure they I don’t misrepresent or misremember anything. How common a lot of these are varies, some tend to be primarily amongst neighboring cultures in specific regions, others tend to be downright global. And some have dozens of instances while others are more like that Doofenshmirtz meme. (I’d only have two nickels but I’m surprised it happened twice).

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sepublic · 2 years

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Fascinating to me how Dracula goes from this regular personified, well, person, into this sort of... Formless, malevolent disease; A faceless and nameless horror, not quite tangible and feeling more like a curse than a physical monster walking around. It’s surreal and even though we KNOW of Dracula, even if you knew nothing until you read the book, even if you read it in the proper order because Jonathan’s journal comes first; It’s still unsettling how Dracula has become this messed up, briefly glimpsed idea of an approaching malady. Like the inevitability of death and doctors and loved ones doing all they can to stave it off.

He almost doesn’t feel real within his own narrative, like maybe Dracula really is just Lucy’s sleep demon that her mind has made up to rationalize and explain this inexplicable condition of hers; Which just adds to her uncertainty and the dream-like surrealism of it all, that gaslights Lucy into not talking about what happened and causes her to forget. Dracula’s like a cryptid you barely catch in the dark with shining red eyes, you can’t quite pin him down because he’s so undefined and thus protean. He’s like a hallucination, an omen of death; A mere visualization of a much deeper and untouchable force, given a face to mock victims with, existing only within the mind because the illness exists in the body like a parasite. It’s creepy.

#dracula #dracula daily #meta

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jarofstyles · 7 months

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FICTOBER DAY 11- Smile

FICTOBER Prompts/Masterlist

Patreon

1.3k

Warnings- incubus/succubus, smut, threesome mention/ sex w other people mention, mmf/ffm mention, demons, blood, halloween etc

“It’s never a good thing when you smile like that…” Y/N whispered as she tugged her partner’s arm towards her, eyes narrowed in humorous speculation as she watched his smirk grow. The club was dark and foggy from that god awful fog machine the hired DJ had brought, the scents mixing in the room making her want to plug her nose.

Halloween made it much easier for them to be their authentic selves. Harry and Y/N often had to hide their eyes, curtain them with human presenting ones when they went out to search for trouble. Tonight, Halloween night, had to be the best of the year. Mischief and sex, costumes galore, sin city personified. Their black eyes were assumed contacts, Y/N’s sharp black nails dragging over the front of Harry’s chest. A short black skirt barely covered her thighs and a lacy black corset top was doing little to hide her swirls of black markings down her neck and back. Harry’s were slightly more hidden, but his form always got attention. It’s what made them so good at what they did.

Succubus and Incubus.

“It’s a good thing you love to be bad, isn’t it my love?”

Y/N chuckled, trailing her fingers up his bare skin and catching his jaw, nails digging into the skin as she turned it back towards him. “What’s the point of wearing a shirt if you’re barely going to button it, hm?” She squeezed his face, her own saucy smile rising on her lips. “Who’s caught your eye, darling? Someone pretty that we can feed on?” Her eyes met his, reading that he had done exactly that.

When they normally went on the prowl, they’d take their time- but it was like a buffet tonight. People ready and willing, eyeing both of them up. They were made for pure sexual attraction, humans being drawn to them like a magic spell as their energy infiltrated a space. To be chosen by both of them? The human would have stories for days. Being in a threesome with two of the best looking people they’d ever seen, bragging rights for days. They wouldn’t miss the blood that either of them took, nor would they mind their sexual energy being feasted on. For humans, it was a magical experience. No loss, no hurt, only one of the most pleasurable and euphoric experiences of their lives. The haze would follow them for days and they’d feel their touches for weeks on end, but it wasn’t harmful. Wistful, perhaps.

The only drawback? No one would ever compare.

They’d search the world for a human who’s cock was able to press right into that spot like Harry’s had, someone’s tongue that swirled around their most sensitive bit the way Y/N’s did, desperate for a taste of either of them, but they wouldn’t. Not unless they came about another of their kind.

Their routine varied, as Harry claimed that ‘Variety is the spice of the afterlife’. Sometimes her chose, sometimes she did. It wasn’t like there was a lack of interested participants who approached them either. But Halloween was a night that all sorts of guidelines were lifted, and their rule for only having one encounter a day was lifted. With the ability to keep the spread of diseases, they didn’t have to wait to leave from one club to another, working on their third now. The high was lifting them up, their first two playmates safely tucked in cabs to get back home and surely sleeping off the exhaustion they had given them.

“Show me, H. I chose last time, so it’s your turn now.” She watched his eyes flutter shut as she dragged her nails back down his throat to rest at his chest, a subtle growl leaving his throat. He loved pain, loved her nails, and his one and only soul mate. The sex with others was fun and games, a way to provide energy, but his real lifeforce was loving his sweet goddess. No one would ever compare to her, to the way she made him feel both inside and out of the bedroom.

There was a difference between fucking for fun and for their needs, versus the love they made to one another. Their lovemaking varied between soft, soppy morning sex to bloody, rough, primal sex. There was no doubting what they preferred, and it was always each other. His arm wrapped around her waist, swinging her swiftly in front of him as he dipped his face to press cheek to cheek. “The one in the little devil costume.” He murmured, brushing his cock against her ass. “We did an angel earlier, but I’d like to see what the little devil has in store. Bet it’ll be a lot of fun, don’t you think?” He brushed his lips against her cheek, pecking it lightly. “Messy girl. Still have a bit of blood on you.” Swiftly, his tongue licked against the corner of her lips and hummed before tightening his grip on her. “We’re only halfway through the night. Already getting messy for me?” He clicked his tongue at her, feeling her eye roll despite knowing her arousal was at the top.

“It’s the one day we can be. I can get blood all over my outfit and no one will blink an eye, think m’just a sexy creature.” She laughed, turning in his strong arms to peer up at him. “You know how much I love a mess, but you’re worse than me, aren’t you?” Her thumb was gentle now, brushing his bottom lip. It was still swollen and some of her lipstick stained them a cherry red, enhancing his pale skin even more. His clean shaven jaw was sharp as a tack and his white teeth tried to nip at the pad of her thumb playfully, but she was too quick. Her man was too handsome for his own good. “Mm… I know you love to bury your tongue in holes, any of them, and get all wet.” She had seen it firsthand just 30 minutes ago, the woman writhing under them as Y/N sat pretty on her face and watched Harry lose himself in the taste of their new friend. “I can still smell that girl on you. She was a fun one, wasn’t she? Had to revoke those wings as soon as you touched her.” She purred, wrapping an arm over his neck. “And you love when they choke on your cock. The other boy I chose did such a nice job taking you into his throat, hm? Amazed him a little with how much you can cum… All over his face, and his ass too. So don’t tease when you’re just as bad as me.” Her voice floated to him, making him groan. His cock was against her tummy this time, perpetually hard and her words only made it worse. “And if you want to take care of the hard time you’re currently having, throbbing against me, you better go pick up our playmate and bring them back to me.” Her hand slipped rom his neck, dow between them and cupping his erection.

His cock was her favorite and alway would be. Perfectly thick and curved, she’d never met a person who didn’t like it, but to her it was perfection. Her prized possession. Having a soulbond with someone who pressed right where she needed, that filled her up to the brim and fucked her good enough to have her growling was all she needed. Leaning up, her lips pressed against his own with a soft ‘pop’ as she pulled away, not getting too carried away yet. “Go on, pretty boy. Since you know how much I love to be bad… get us a slice of our trouble for the night. We’ve got so many more friends to meet.”

#jarofstyles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfic #harry styles smut #harry writing #harry styles imagine #harry drabble #harry styles blurb #harry styles writing #Harry styles Halloween #Harry styles incubus #Harry styles succubus #demon harry styles #harry styles smut imagine #jarofstyles fictober 2023 #jarofstyles fictober

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not-totally-a-wizard · 3 months

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One thing that I find interesting about jojos is its heavily familial theme surrounding a fairly broken family.

From the very beginning, Jonathan loses his mother, is bullied by his adoptive brother, and is viewed as less favorable by his father. After his death, Erina must raise their child on her own, only for him to pass away and leave her in the same role once again. Joseph doesn't know his mother. Jotaro's father is missing from the story. Josuke is an illegitimate child who reconciles with his absent father. Giorno severs all ties to his family after their abuse. All of them have few family members that are actively in their lives. And yet, they all bear the Joestar curse. They are fighting the battles of their family members that they never knew, simply because they are part of the Joestar family. Their stands manifest at the same time; they are literally connected by fate. All of this culminates in Stone Ocean, as Jotaro, caught up in pursuing the Joestar family problems, neglects his own daughter and takes on the role that his father did when he was a child. Jolyne hated him for not being there, yet always knew he would be there for her. She stole a car. Why did she do that? So he would come save her. "The Joestar family, through their bloodline, have seized victories by drawing strength from honor and courage. However! Your bloodline is also your weakness. Jotaro Kujo, your weakness is your daughter" - this is what Pucci tells him the moment that Jotaro chooses his daughter over the universe. Their familial love is strong, yet distant. They repeat the mistakes of their parents before them. They are struck by tragedy before they can become parents. They can't connect. And yet they'd doom the world for each other.

I think that, in the second continuity, this theme is very literally personified through the rock disease. Before that, we get gut-wrenching lines like "God took the wrong son" from Joestar fathers, before Johnny marries into the Higashikata family. It is the rock disease that leads to Johnny digging up the saints corpse to protect his family. He was willing to go against the entire goal of sbr in order to save his wife, and when his son was afflicted with the same condition, he was willing to lose his life. The rock disease serves as a physical embodiment of the danger that led to the tragedy of the Joestar family. It is literally passed down through the Higashikata family, similar to the way that "destiny" and "fate" were almost inherited by the Joestars. In the Higashikata family, each generation was forced to choose to let their eldest son die, or kill someone in his place. This death and tragedy is inherited, and everyone knows. Norisuke has to live with the fact that his mother died so he could live. He is willing to do the same for his grandson. Jobin's life was heavily influenced by the fact that his mother wouldn't die for him, and it leads him to pursue the same for his son. The Higashikata family has this extreme inherited trauma that they can never truly escape.

The rock disease even reaches the Joestar family, with Holy becoming afflicted with the same condition. Holy, a single mother like her counterpart, also serves as a guiding force of the story. The fact that she rescued Josefumi when his own mother wouldn't is what leads to him helping Kira save her. Even after they become Josuke and lose their own memories, Josuke understands that Holy is his mother. She was such a strong comforting presence in both of his pasts, that even though he cannot remember anything about his life, he understands how important she was to him. In the same way that Joestars inherit their battles and traumas, Josuke inherits his mother's love. He is welcomed into the Higashikata home. He is given a family. And I think that is the true message in all of this. Josuke literally has no connection to his past, much like previous Joestars who are disconnected from their family, yet the efforts that they made still affect him. It is the people that he chooses to surround himself with that matter, as even when presented with Kiyomi, he would rather go to his real family. Family can pass along a great sadness, but family is also the people you choose to surround yourself with. Love transcends fate.

#jjba #jojos bizarre adventure #jojolion #jjba spoilers #jojo spoilers #stone ocean spoilers #sbr spoilers #jojolion spoilers #my posts #yayy first post!!#i have so many thoughts about the higashikata family #jojolion-flavored version of an essay i wrote for school lol

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yonemurishiroku · 8 months

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Solangelo AU in which Will is an immortal healer who goes to disease-ridden, infected, barren lands to save people by extracting his own overabundant life force, and only finds the end of his journey in the form of Nico, Death personified.

I can tell this in the form of a fairy tale but nope today is violence’s day because I say so.

#will solace #nico di angelo #pjo #hoo #toa #yone rambling #percy jackson and the olympians #heroes of olympus #trials of apollo #solangelo #solangelo au #immortal will

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therainscene · 1 year

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Something that struck me about Will’s bedroom in S4 is how asexually it’s decorated:

This boy is about to turn 15 and yet there’s not a single hunk to be found anywhere on his walls! Being closeted isn’t an excuse -- there’s plenty of plausible deniability in having posters of your favourite musicians, athletes, characters, etc, as our extremely heterosexual friend Michael can demonstrate:

Perhaps Will just is asexual. After all, outside of his chaste love for Mike, we only ever see him express his sexuality in the form of revulsion towards girls/heterosexuality; he honestly seems kind of neutral on men in general.

However... I don’t think that’s what’s going on here.

Will happens to conform to certain 80s stereotypes about gay men -- he’s sensitive, well-groomed, prefers art over sport -- and these traits have made him a target for homophobic abuse, probably since before he even realized he was gay.

Imagine how it must have felt, then, when he finally did realize he was gay. The bullies were right about that, all along. So what else were they right about?

What other stereotypes plagued gay men in the 80s? They were seen as threats that wanted to recruit children into their “lifestyle”...

...as disgusting perverts...

...and as carriers of disease.

Even as a 12 year-old with an innocent crush on his best friend, this poor kid already feels ashamed of a sexuality he hasn’t even matured into yet. So when he does start maturing into it, he represses it.

It’s no wonder that he identifies with Alan Turing, a man who was chemically castrated for being gay.

Who else do we know who might identify with what happened to Alan Turing?

Henry is queer-coded by way of parallels to Will: he’s sensitive, well-groomed, and likes art. Like Will, he had a parent who tried to make him more “normal”. Like Will, he’s suffered abuse for being different.

But Henry is also queer-coded in a way that parallels those homophobic fears about “the gay agenda”: he preys on children, recruiting some and killing the rest. He’s angry at the world for not having space in it for people like him, but it doesn’t occur to him that he could peacefully co-exist with the rest of society -- he wants to burn it all down and remake the world in his own image.

The thing is, homophobes are telling on themselves when they express such fears about gay men -- because what they fear queer people will do to them is what heteronormative society is already doing to queer people. Like Henry, they think this is a zero-sum game in which only one side can “win”.

So I don’t think Henry’s queer-coding is meant to be read literally as him being a predatory gay man.

Rather, he’s a personification of homophobia: the homophobe’s gay boogeyman made flesh.

(When it comes to other characters, he personifies a more broadly-applicable version of this concept. But the Duffers have stated that S5 will focus heavily on Will and his coming of age, so I think this queer reading of Vecna is a deliberate and central one.)

If Vecna represents external homophobia, then the Mind Flayer represents internalized homophobia.

Vecna sends it after Will and it literally gets inside him, burying his true nature under a layer of torment. It’s partially defeated when his family and friends see what’s happening and shower him with unconditional love, but it lingers at the back of his head as he starts to go through puberty, flaring up when he’s near or otherwise thinking about Mike.

The only time he doesn’t have to deal with these flare-ups is when he’s in California, far away from both Vecna and the homophobic town he grew up in. And he gains a lot of confidence in his identity while he’s there!

But, as the asexually-decorated bedroom suggests, he still feels a lot of shame too.

Will can’t fully self-actualize as a gay man until he breaks his connection with Vecna once and for all...

...with the boy who makes him feel like he’s not a mistake by his side.

#stranger things #byler #will byers #henry creel #mind flayer #mike wheeler #my analysis

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transfaguette · 2 years

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when it comes to chronic illnesses, I've always found the "fight against [enter disease]" or any tagline that focuses on cures to be kind of alienating. It's like it personifies the disease itself into an enemy to be fought, instead of focusing on the people affected and how they can be helped. I don't hate my disease, I hate the circumstances I'm placed into that makes treatment and everyday life so difficult to live. A cure may be impossible, but improving my quality of life is very possible, if only the proper resources and education were put into that.

#coyote.txt #chronic illness #disability

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nightskywonderer · 8 months

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Superman And Wonder Woman's Love Makes Perfect Sense — The Magnetic Attraction Between High Testosterone Men And High Estrogen Women Explained

Superman and Wonder Woman's romance may be fictional, but attraction between men with high testosterone and women with high estrogen is real.

Some things are meant to be — like Superman and Wonder Woman falling in love. Ever wonder why that is? Turns out, there's science behind this magnetism between high-testosterone males and high-estrogen females that makes Superman and Wonder Woman's romance more than just a fictional story.

Superman is the high-testosterone savior writ large.

An acute sense of justice and fairness are traits linked with the testosterone system in the brain. So Superman’s affiliation with the “Justice League of America” is an immediate tipoff to his personality type: a high-testosterone male, what I call the Director. He also looks like a Director.

Testosterone builds muscle—one of Superman’s outstanding traits. His angular jaw, high cheekbones, thin lips, and heavy brow ridges are also carved by testosterone. Oddly, these physical traits also signal his invulnerability—at least his imperviousness to disease. Testosterone is a caustic substance that jeopardizes the immune system; only men with a very strong immune system can tolerate high levels of this male hormone. Superman is among them.

Most importantly, this “Man of Steel” saves people he doesn’t know. Known as ‘heroic altruism,’ this willingness to confront severe danger to save a stranger is linked with elevated levels of testosterone. Directors want to be needed, to help, to “fix” the problems of the world. Superman personifies this primordial male role: the protector.

Wonder Woman exudes qualities built by estrogen.

She's what I call the Negotiator. This type is compassionate and nurturing; they seek peace and harmony, as Wonder Woman does. And I’m not surprised that she can talk to the animals.

Estrogen is linked with verbal skills, intuition, and the ability to read faces, postures, gestures, and tone of voice. All evolved to enable women to communicate with pre-verbal infants, even animals. Wonder Woman has these elevated estrogen qualities in spades.

Yet Wonder Woman is no doormat. She is highly independent, like many women. Moreover, with her social skills, she can be cunning. And she will fight. Indeed, when protecting their young, women can become far more dangerous than just about any man.

Wonder Woman seems to regard all good humans as her children. It is this genuine warrior spirit within a beautiful, tender-hearted woman that makes her the embodiment of all high-estrogen women–and a mythic creature to most men.

Superman and Wonder Woman are a classic match, the very high testosterone male and the very high estrogen female.

And they have many cultural and biological traits that will fuel their romance. People tend to fall in love with those of the same background.

Although Superman comes from a different planet, while Wonder Woman harks from an isolated island, both are aliens to our modern world. Both also have superhuman powers so each will understand the other’s strengths–including their mutual ability to fly. More importantly, Superman and Wonder Woman share the same values and goals–essentials to a good relationship.

They are both dedicated to truth and justice; both dislike wasting time on irrelevant, trivial, or boring matters; and both fight evil to save the good—traits shared by both the high testosterone and high estrogen types. Moreover, both value personal autonomy.

Each will find someone who is just as independent as themselves.

If their first kiss is novel and exciting, it might push Superman and Wonder Woman over the threshold toward falling in love.

A kiss is just a kiss? No way! A great first kiss can be thrilling—and trigger feelings of intense romantic love, due to the way the brain responds to novelty. Any kind of unique situation triggers the dopamine system. And dopamine is associated with feelings of romance.

The first kiss could also trigger sexual desire. Saliva has traces of testosterone, and men regularly like sloppier kisses, perhaps to transfer some of this male hormone and heighten the woman’s sexual response. Moreover, a woman’s breath and saliva change across her menstrual cycle, so with his sloppier kisses, a man may also be unconsciously trying to pick up this subtle hint of her fertility.

Is Superman a sloppy kisser? Perhaps we’ll find out.

In fact, the first kiss can be dangerous. In a study of 58 men and 122 women, 59% of men and 66% of women said that they had ended a romance after the first kiss. It was the kiss of death. Because as you kiss, you can see your partner clearly, as well as smell, taste, hear, and feel them.

Instantly these messages from your senses are picked up by five of your twelve cranial nerves and escorted directly to the brain. Here they detonate, providing vivid data about the person’s health, their eating, drinking, and smoking habits, and their state of mind–whether they are rough and impatient or tender and calm.

But if Superman and Wonder Woman like their first kiss, and turn into lovers, their kisses may trigger even deeper feelings for one another. Kissing among long-term partners raises oxytocin activity in the brain, producing feelings of trust and attachment.

Kissing a familiar partner also reduces the stress hormone, cortisol, contributing to this brain bath of pleasure, connection, and relaxation.

So kissing can trigger any one of three basic brain systems that humanity has evolved for mating and reproduction: romantic love, the sex drive, and/or feelings of deep attachment. And as Superman and Wonder Woman have their first kiss, they embark on one of Nature’s oldest—and most exciting–journeys.

But even Superman and Wonder Woman will have their problems.

She is a warrior, ready to kill her foes; he has killed and resolved never to kill again. Neither is likely to understand this fundamental difference in values.

Nevertheless, this is a natural complementary match.

Directors such as Superman want a mate who has the strength of character to stand up to their formidable personality. In Wonder Woman, the charming warrior, he has found his match. And in Superman, Wonder Woman will find a truly “good man.

Written by Helen Fisher Ph.D., a biological anthropologist and Senior Research Fellow at The Kinsey Institute and Chief Scientific Advisor to the dating site Match. She is the author of the book The Anatomy of Love: A Natural History of Mating, Marriage, and Why We Stray, among other titles.

#superman #wonder woman #superman and wonder woman #wonder woman and superman #dc comics #superwonder #supermanwonderwoman #power couple #clark kent #diana prince

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fancifulplaguerat · 10 months

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Pathologic plays around with plague history/iconography a lot and this is often on my mind but especially Clara and the macabre. Whether purposefully or not, she’s such a delightful representation of macabre iconography, in particular how she embodies macabre doubles. Repetition and doubles were all over macabre art, used to centre the contrast between one’s living body and their corpse. Clara’s contrast with the Changeling reminds me of that imagery—the Changeling’s bare bones for legs evoke the macabre double with skeletal limbs to demonstrate decay and their death-state. I find it even more delicious since the double was essentially synonymous with death, and Clara’s double isn’t her dead body, but the embodiment of disease and death itself. Doubles were used to create a jarring interaction between living and dead, where a person recognized their “true self” (mortality/flesh) in confronting their corpse. I don’t think Clara is meant to confront her mortality, but the recognition of the “true self” can certainly be read into it. The game also seemingly references macabre art in framing Clara as death; e.g. when Yulia describes what she expected Clara would look like, which echoes depictions of death as a skeletal woman in plague iconography. I think this was a purposeful reference, as Clara asks her, “Nice. Was I by any chance carrying a long, rapaciously curved scythe?” On that note, I feel there’s further reference to the ‘Triumph of Death’ in plague/macabre art in that lovely line from the Rat Prophet about the Town becoming a temple for the pest, and Clara being enthroned there.

Also I really enjoy how the disease is personified, especially by Aspity whom I love so dearly, when she says “The infection goes straight to the head. It talks to you a bit with this little inner voice, and then it moves in completely [...] the body makes for lousy lodging—it breaks apart all too easily.” Or when Eva says, “Death only comes after those who are trying to hide! It knocks on your head, knocks from the inside... having appeared within you... it’s not an external affliction.” Not exactly the same sentiment, but both carry the idea of an unwanted guest, and framing disease or death as an unwanted visitor certainly reminds me of Clara, as she is often an unwelcome guest in her route. Conversely, in the Bachelor Route, she says “[the Changeling] spreads the disease from house to house! That’s how it gets through walls, people open their doors to her willingly!” The line still carries a similar idea to me, of disease being “let inside” or otherwise making its way in, and oh do I love a good analogy to the body and a house, to Clara being an unwanted visitor in someone’s home and disease an unwanted visitor in the body. Also. My Russian is shit, so I can’t confirm, but I remember the Wiki saying that самозванка in its context can translate to “one who is uninvited” and oh I hope that’s true because that would be absolutely sumptuous in the context of how the disease is described. God I just really think we should let Clara be the plague incarnate more often I really do

#pathologic #clara saburova #patho.txt

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