# sac fungi

[500-moths-in-a-trenchcoat]

kingdom winner: FUNGI!!

[floragender]

[ID 1: A flag with 7 horizontal stripes. The stripes from top to bottom are bright red, bright green, pale pink, white, pale pink, bright green, bright red.]

[ID 2: A flag with 7 horizontal stripes. The stripes from top to bottom are pink, pale pink, dark magenta, magenta, dark magenta, pale pink, pink.]

[ID 3: A flag with 7 horizontal stripes. The stripes from top to bottom are orange gold, orangish brown, pale pink, white, pale pink, orangish brown, orange gold.]

Panangiospermae: a gender related to every flower in existence Calyptriformisae: a gender related to pink waxcap mushrooms Panascomycotae: a gender related to all sac fungi

[mushroomgay]

Lincolnshire, UK, Novemeber 2023

Collared earthstar (Geastrum triplex)

These gorgeous fungi emerge initially as a globe-like fruiting body consisting of a spore sac (the bulbous part on top) and an outer layer that will quickly split and spread outwards, pushing the spore sac higher and forming the star shape underneath. These fungi are known as 'collared' because of the 'arms' of this species having a tendency to crack as they bend backwards, forming a sort of 'collar' that the spore sac sits on, as you can see in this photo.

[lichenaday]

Lecanora intricata

Lichens have a few different ways to reproduce (they're just awesome like that) but most lichen symbioses include an ascomycete fungi, AKA a sac fungi. These fungi create spores in internal sacs known as asci (singular: ascus), and lichenized ascomycetes often house these sacs in their apothecia, or fruiting bodies. So you see those dark spots on the surface of our pal L. intricata here? Those are its apothecia, or its fruiting bodies, from which fungal spores will be ejected to go out and hopefully form their own little lichens someday. Pretty neat, huh? L. intricata is a crustose lichen with a verrucose (wart-like)-areolate (tile-like) thallus. It has a gray-green to yellow-green surface sitting atop a dark prothallus (a layer of fungal hyphae). It should look something like puzzle-pieces on a dark surface. It has blackish-green to brown, irregularly shaped apothecia immersed in the thallus surface. L. intricata grows on silicious rock and occasionally wood in montane, boreal, and arctic habitats.

images: source | source | source | source

info: source | source | source

[justkidneying]

Shit in the Lungs

I'm gonna give some examples of what you can give your characters if you want them to have a little cough, and one example of a disease that you probably don't want to use.

Tuberculosis: this is that classic one when you're watching a Western and someone coughs up blood into a hankie.

caused by a mycobacterium and can be found in about 1/4 of the world's population (but only 5-10% of those people will ever become symptomatic)

one of the most interesting features of this disease is the fact that someone can get it and not have an active infection for DECADES (but don't worry, they can't spread it either)

the immune system can't kill it to well, so instead it makes these nice granulations around it in the lungs, which is called caseating necrosis (looks like soft cheese - but tastes horrible)

TB can spread to the kidneys (pissing pus), spine, and brain (meningitis). The last one causes fever, headache, coma, and then you die

for regular TB in the lungs: fever, night sweats, weight loss (that's why it was once called consumption), coughing, hemoptysis (coughing up blood), chest pain, tiredness, and malaise

Pneumonia: this is really broad, but in general means the lungs are filling with fluid and you can't breathe

this can be caused by several viruses, fungi, and bacteria. Go look up the specific cause you want, or maybe I'll cover it in the next decade

you have these little air sacs (called alveoli) in your lungs, and if they are filled with crap, they can't exchange CO2 and O2 with your blood and the atmosphere

basic symptoms are coughing, chest pain, fever, chills, nausea, fatigue, headache

there's also walking pneumonia, in which you don't feel shitty enough to stay home so you're out and about while your lungs fill with fluid. usually pretty mild

Lung Cancer: this is the cancer with the highest mortality, and is more common in people who smoke or work in certain manufacturing plants

this can present similar to other types of lung diseases

main symptoms include chest pain, weight loss, tiredness, coughing, hemoptysis, shortness of breath, and constant lung infections

the main types are small-cell and non-small-cell, with the latter usually having a worse prognosis. All stages combined, NSCLC has a 5-year survival rate of about 28%, while SCLC has one of about 7%

Finally, the one I've seen in fics but in a context that doesn't make sense: cystic fibrosis. This is a genetic mutation, guys (CFTR gene to be specific). You can't catch this and it isn't caused by a microorganism. People with this disease produce especially thick mucus, leading to an inability to clear the lungs (plus some stuff with the small intestines, pancreas, and kidneys). They also have very salty sweat which is actually a way people can get diagnosed (parents will kiss their kids foreheads and taste the salt, lol). Because of the lung issues, people with CF will be at risk for certain and frequent lung infections. There is no cure and in the USA they usually live to be about 50 years old.

I hope I have given you guys some good info, feel free to ask questions in the comments if there is something I did not touch on. I just hope I never see someone "catching" CF again (please <3)

[floragender]

[ID: A flag with 9 horizontal stripes. The stripes from top to bottom are jewel green, greenish blue, blue, periwinkle, royal blue, periwinkle, blue, greenish blue, jewel green.]

Aerix: A gender related to green elfcup mushrooms

The name comes from the scientific name for green elfcup mushrooms,  Chlorociboria aeruginascens

The colors are inspired by green elfcup mushrooms

[thecryptidhobbies]

Mystical Mushrooms book notes

Part one:

Researchers at the Swedish Royal Museum of Natural History found mycelial fossils in ancient lava flows in South Africa dating back 2.4 billion years: 1 billion years earlier than originally thought to have existed. Making them one if the oldest known inhabitants of Earth.

Our earliest recorded references to mushrooms in the Western world come from the Greeks and Romans discussions on edible qualities.

Also depicted throughout history in art, music, literature, poetry, and more

Symbolize luck, longevity, fertility and rebirth, prosperity, safety, change, resilience, learning, patience, and introspection, among many other beliefs.

All mushrooms are fungi but not all fungi are mushrooms

"Mushroom" is the mainly above ground, fleshy, fruiting body of a fungus. Usually comprising of a stem attached to a cap, often umbrella shaped, and often with gills.

Mushrooms develop microscopic spores rather than seeds underneath their caps or in tubes or sacs. Which are spread by whether and animals.

When these spores germinate creates a sophisticated network of underground threads called mycelium (or mycelia in the plural)

A fresh mushroom is about 90% water, 5% carbohydrate, 3% protein, 1% mineral salts and vitamins, and less than 1% fat.

Scents range from being reminiscent of a rotting corpse to sweet and enticing.

Vast and varied uses range from nourishment to medicine to decomposing plant waste and turning it into biofuel to creating ethical and sustainable fabrics to potential building materials for homes and other things.

2 of the oldest and largest networks of Armillaria include a relative of the honey mushroom called the "humongous fungus," which was discovered by a small group of scientists in 1988 in Michigan.

Covers 37 acres and is atkeast 1500 years old and weighs atleast 100 tons. Ongoing research has determined it may actually be twice as large and almost twice as old as originally thought.

1998 another bigger "humongouser" fungus was discovered

Malheur National Forest in Oregon now lays claim to the single biggest fungal organism: another species of Armillaria, one covering almost 3.5 square miles (spreading up to 3 feet per year) that is almost 2500 years old.

In the earliest studies as far back as 1600s mushrooms were thought to be an odd form of animal life. Later studies in the 18th century placed them with plants

Current research places them as more closely related to humans then plants in chemical makeup, even sharing similar DNA

FUN SIDE NOTES:

The word "mushroom" likely derives from the French word mousseron, from mousse, meaning "moss", among which mushrooms are often found growing- though is not a certainty and is subject of much debate. Mushroom first appeared in English during mid 15th century.

[mara-xx217]

Indelible: Birth of the Krill Mother

Rot and ruin underground…

What a poor, dessicated form…

Heed, child, and be unbound,

Rise up from your slumber and perform

This task hideous and newfound. 

Take the chittering and amassed swarm

And take up your rightful crown

As MOTHERING KRILL LORD.

Her eyes stirred underneath their lids. Most of her eyelashes peeled away from one another, pulled out, follicle and all, and stuck together in thick clumps. It took time for her to pry her eyes open, minutes, perhaps. Hours, even. Maybe even only a few seconds… but a moment stretched on in the absence of anything within the intimate knowledge of self recognition and the realization that one was now confided to existence instead of blissful nothingness. 

‘Open them, motherling.’ 

…I can’t.

No sound left her mouth, her lips didn’t even part. The memory of movement was vague and elusive, no longer present in her muscles and instead akin to a dream decades old. A hazy and morphous thing, a likely conjuration of an inactive mind and a starved body. Something inside of her… moved, not of her will but another. Yet she felt nothing as her eyes were forcefully pried open by an unseen force. 

‘Open.’ 

Even in the scant light, her eyes contracted with enough force to ache her optic nerves. A black-grey ceiling met her, only just barely lit up by the low reddish light that sank through a partially obscured window, longer than it was tall. Expansive colonies of black mold almost seemed to breathe before her very eyes, vein-like tendrils crawling down the wall and onto the hard, cold and wet floor underneath her. The more she looked, the more her eyes burned, until they became unfocused and weepy from strain. 

‘Must I do everything for you?’ 

What do you mean?

‘Blink, foolish child, and rise.’ 

It took force to slide her eyelids shut. Blink… Open, then close… And you open them again. The strain is gone and the function is restored. Her throat squeezed then relaxed in waves, much like the tip of her body. Something was cool and squishy against her skin. It was her toes curling and unfurling, digging themselves in a large mound of mold and waste. 

The sensation of movement traveled throughout her body. Her toes, fingers, tendons and then muscles all clenched and unclenched rhythmically. Blood that had stagnated underneath her began to circulate once again. A pop announces the rise and fall of her chest. Sacs of air are filled then deflated, stretching her skin past its usual confines that were established during her inactivity. 

Considerable effort was used to merely lift her fingers. Her eyes can only map the ceiling and flick over to the window, of which there were at least three others nearby. Something was blocking the light from the outside, though what it was, she wasn’t sure. Her wrist was freed, then her elbow. Her other hand, then a foot. A fleshy tear and fluid follow her every movement, dripping down her limbs as she twists her torso and pops her shoulders free of their prison. 

Mold and fungi had encased her, clinging to her body as she rose to a seated position. She couldn’t feel her body, only vague positions that suggested the functions that were already taking place. Liquid poured down her bare back, and she tilted her head down to look at her legs still stuck in place. 

Her thick, matted black hair partially obscured her vision. Her dark skin was covered in filth and rot, though it was still fully intact. The shape of her long bones were pressed into her thin skin. It was as though the little flesh she had was tightly cinched down onto her skeleton, and every small movement she made was clearly visible near where her connective tissues and tendons strained against their confines. Bringing her legs towards her chest, she could now make out whitish criss-crosses scars against her calloused knees. She raised a shaky hand and picked at the rough, textured skin with a dirty and broken nail that was brittle enough to crack up to the cuticle. 

‘Rise.’ 

Her eyes flicked up, towards the window. No sound hit her ears, but she knew the thing outside was the owner of the voice. She obeyed, forcing her thin legs to bear the weight of her malnutritioned body. So heavy, yet so light… Almost nonexistent. She looked down at her feet as she rose, grunting softly as her body rocked back and forth in an uneasy manner. 

It was so quiet… How long has it been? She licked her cracked lips with a dry tongue. There should be sounds, there should be something. Someone… People. Dull aches and pains sprouted up all over her body. Memory lurked just beneath her skin, hidden behind a veil that was behind her eyes. She raised a trembling hand to her gaunt face. 

…where was she? No- 

What was her name…? 

Thoughts were a new sensation for her. Uncomfortable. She quieted them, but three continuously flipped back and forth in her mind: where is she, what was her name, where are her clothes. Clothes… Clothes. Everything was ruined in this underground room, wet and slimy, disintegrating at the slightest breeze, movement of the mold that seemed to ungulate and pulse in an unknown rhythm. A washer and dryer were overflowing with more molding clothing, black goo-like substance pouring out of their open doors and onto the floor. It connected to the gunk that had enveloped her body from head to toe. She tries to step backwards once, then twice-

CLANK! 

How did she- forget- not notice? There was a handcuff clamped around her ankle, now loose thanks to her drastic weight loss. The other cuff was secured around a length of chain that was padlocked to a radiator hooked up to the wall. She raised her foot, pulling against the chain and testing its strength. 

CLINK!

CLINK! 

…it won’t budge. She crouched down to her haunches and took a closer look. Pulling at the cuff did nothing. Unsurprising… It was oddly nostalgic, picking at it and the scar that ran around the entirety of her ankle. She’s almost small enough to pull free from it… If it wasn’t for the natural shape of her foot, she could slip out of it with ease. She sat back down, a shiver running through her body as cold liquid touched her bare behind. It shouldn’t take much to get out of this… All she needs to do is catch it at the right angle and-

CRACK! 

The tips of her feet are now nearly facing at a one hundred and eighty degree angle. The bones in her ankle crunch as she wiggles her foot around, heat blanketing her entire foot as she jiggles it from side to side, slowly pulling it back through the cuff and damaging it further until it is pliable enough to squeeze out of the small space. 

Oh…

Finally.

She drops the chain into the gooey pile on the floor. The metal is scuffed and dirty, but it still shines in the light. She blinks at it, lowering her foot to the ground and nearly losing her balance as it crunches and grinds audibly. 

‘Good. Leave, now.’ 

How? The only door is locked from the other side. 

‘Go up.’ 

She struggled to walk, her foot and leg unable to support her body weight. With every step, she nearly collapses onto herself. The gritty floor scrapes against the sole of her foot and her ankle as she balances on it. The stairway rail is wet and spongy under her palm and fingers, flaking away and splintering into large chunks, some of which were left embedded in her skin. She leaned on it, in spite of its protestful groan and the bowing of the steps as she gracelessly dropped her useless limb onto it.

THUNK!

CREAK!

THUNK!

CREAK! 

The bones in her foot grind against one another, a sensation that reverberates up her leg and throughout her body. Her brows furrow as she stared down at her mangled limb. She couldn’t remember what to call herself… A shiver runs up her spine. Gooseflesh begins to bud on her skin, leaving her feeling itchy and irritated. She approached the top of the stairs, one of them drooping underneath her foot before slowly settling back to its original warped shape. The door will be locked. It always is. I cannot escape this place… They won’t allow it. 

Her heart began to pound in between her skin-tight ribs. On her final step, her body hesitates. 

…I cannot open this door.

She couldn’t raise her arm. She was weak, yes, but she had energy to move nonetheless. Something deep within her gut twisted and sticky saliva fills her mouth as she stares at the glistening door handle. 

It was grey-black, just as most of the walls, ceiling and floor were, but it was supposed to be store-bought, off-white, cheap, hollow plywood. Thin enough that sound and heat escapes through it like dirty water through broken fingers, but remains an unmovable, impenetrable barrier. Inescapable. A prison, and her wardens waiting just ahead of the threshold to salvation. 

…It is not possible…

‘Yes. It is. You know what you must do. Do it, now.’ 

…

No, she does know. She does, but she hesitates. The familiar feeling that had blanketed over her was smothered down into a fleeting impression, then it is nothing at all. She doesn’t try the handle. She doesn’t need to. 

THUNK!

THUNK!

CRACK! 

It doesn’t splinter as much as it merely caves in, just beside the door handle. The lock is broken, and the door creaks open, tilting as though straining on its rusted and loose hinges. Beady eyes shine in the low light beyond the threshold, blinking and staring right through her exterior and into something deeper within her. A low, chortling croon hits her ears, and the distress she felt moments ago twists and contorts into something far different. 

A black beak clicks as she shuffles forward. It brushes against her hand, digging underneath it and up and onto its head with a few flicks of its neck. It was insistent, even as she tried to ignore its attempts. Every time she tried to step forward, it blocked her way, until her forearm rested on its head and she used to balance her weight. It chittered and cawed softly, twisting its neck so it could look up at her as it hopped alongside her. 

‘Good children know their place, but a firm hand is required nonetheless.’ 

Her hand was already stroking its feathers and petting it on the cheek. Parasitic tendrils twitched and waved in an invisible current. The moment her foot passed the door frame, the pressure in her ears seemed to change, shifting behind her eyes and towards her feet as her eyes remained glued to the floor. 

It is an empty vessel. Nothing more. 

No, not so empty. Living things teemed within. Chatters and calls filled the rotting house. They all called for her, excited as though longing for her presence, missing it. As though they missed her. 

MAMA!

MAMA!

MAMA!

MAMA! 

Dozens of individual voices called out to her. Large birds clambered to her feet, tails wagging and heads bobbing as they sought her attention. Me, me. No, me. Me first. We missed you. We were waiting for you. Warmth spread throughout her body, shifting the weight that was on her shoulders onto theirs. Yes, yes, they had been waiting on her for so long… Where had she been? Why did she wait so long to return? So much time had passed that she no longer recognized what laid beyond the basement that she had always called home. Perhaps that was the place of her birth… She always believed it would be her tomb but…

Why? What was she looking for? 

They were here, somewhere… She leaned on one of her babies and hobbled along, no longer hesitating as she searched the waterlogged house. Here? Here, mama? They are here! Wood creaked and buckled underneath dancing talons and shuffling legs. The large living room carpet, now coal back, once an unknown colour and pattern, leaked water and filth in between the toes that dug into it. All the furniture was ruined, water-damaged and molding. Paper-books bloated with water sat on a coffee table and in a nearby bookcase. The slightest touch would have them sloughing apart into wet mache. Some of them already were. A product of the past, or something more recent? 

The kitchen was as filthy as the basement. Thick mold colonies covered nearly every surface, effectively gluing the fridge and cabinets shut. She almost fell as she lost her footing, the ground slick and difficult to keep traction. One of her children caught her with its back, ensuring she didn’t hurt or dirty herself. 

Up, up. We must go up. To feed, we must go up. 

She was circled by them, some hopping onto others back so they could keep her safe and upright while walking up the stairs. 

CREAK!

CLUNK!

CREAK!

CLUNK! 

There was an ever present scent of rot and decay that grew stronger the further she ascended the stairs. Once she reached the topmost step, the stench was overbearing. Her heart fluttered in excitement just as her children began to duck and bob their heads in anticipation. They are up here! Up here, there is food! Food! Food! 

The door immediately ahead was a closet, unable to be opened due to the copious amount of rot welding it shut. The door buckled as though weighed upon, but there is nonetheless nothing of value inside. 

Down the hall, the first door on the right, there was a bathroom door that was closed but not locked. A puddle of murky-black water sat underneath the door, spilling out into the hallway and flowing underneath the carpet that couldn't hold any more water. Her babies slammed their sharp beaks against the doorknob’s lock, causing wood to splinter and it to creak open lazily, as though strained under a great weight. 

SPLASH!

SPLASH! 

Water lapped over the tops of her feet. The origin of the stench was found there, in the tub. Is it food? Is it what we seek? Thick, black-grey water filled the tub to the rim. If even a drop was displaced, a cascade of foul liquid would come crashing down and flood all the way downstairs. 

There was little shape to the form mostly hidden underneath the water, only the vague impression of a head, along with a single arm resting on the rim, both of which were so infested with molds and other waterlogged filth that any distinctive features were totally lost. This could be a man, or a woman. Neither mattered. Only one thing mattered, and she stared into the dirty water, about chest high. She leaned on one of the birds as her eyes flicked over the still surface. 

…

SPLASH! 

She shoved one of her arms to the elbow inside of the tub. The water was ice cold and slimy, thick against her skin as she felt around the thing’s chest. A true corpse. Useless. Bad! Freezing water runs over the tub’s rim, against her legs and onto the floor. flakes of rotten flesh, as watery and sloppy as the paper mache downstairs coated her palm and fingers. 

What was the need to do this? She already knew this wasn’t the one she was looking for, yet she was compelled to check for herself, digging the tips of her gnarled fingers into the rotted-soft chest of the cadaver. She cut through past the ribs, feeling nothing other than old organs that had long since disintegrated. 

Dead, dead, dead. 

Cocking her head to the side, she begins to retract her hand, eying the near skeletal arm that was draped over the tub’s side. As she began to shake the water and flesh from her hand and arm, toeing at a mound of molding filth just underneath the body’s hand with her broken foot. Something with sharp angles dug into her calloused skin, and she pulled her foot back just as she straightened up. 

There is food. Food! Food! Find it, find it and feed! Yes, yes… She knew. The corpse was left alone and the flock followed her back into the hallway. Three more doors, but only one of them mattered. She passed one door, falling off its hinges and lying within the room it led to. There was no light within, the filth and corruption had overtaken everything, including the thing that once lived inside. The bed sagged, buckling and long since broken under its own weight and that of its occupant, hardly even capable of considering itself to be human, once. Her laboured footsteps halted at the end of the hall, where two rooms remained. 

Her upper lip twitched as she shuffled towards her left. The door was the same, cheap white as the rest, swallowed by mold and water damage with the only thing of note being a broken sign, hanging on by a thread. What were once pink or purple flowers were now devoured, only just peeking out from underneath the black that had yet to disappear them just yet. Her heart squeezed, pink and white lights flicking under her eyelids every time she closed her eyes to blink. What is this? Why is it so-

‘Enough games. Find it. Now.’ 

She dropped her arm before it had the opportunity to rise up. Sometimes things need to sleep and lay quietly. Forgotten. For now. She turns away from the door and to the one that was cracked open. A dim light emanated from within, yellowish and flickering in a slow, pulsating rhythm. One of her children pushed the door open with the tip of their nose, a loud squeak sounding from its hinges as they all made their way inside. 

Who was this one? She did not know it, body still fresh, intact and not wet and soupy like the ones that were supposed to be here. The ones she expected… Nothing was as she expected, bare yet strewn about, rummaged through and picked clean. Not completely, though… She was able to sit on the bed, water seeping up from the bare mattress and frame creaking in protest. 

The source of the flickering was clear. A cord was lightly held in hand, draped in between bloating, grey fingers. A tableside lamp was hanging by its cord, with the shadeless side partially resting on the floor. The bulb throbbed with a warm light, slow and steady, almost imperceivable but unmistakably human in origin. She leans over the body, eyes staring at the mute blue glow that soaked through the threadbare shirt that laid over its chest. 

‘Feast, motherling. Claim your rightful crown, child of filth, and do what must be done.’ 

Her fingers flexed as she waited for the birds to do their work. One jumped onto the body’s torso, crooning as it pecked and tore at its shirt, ripping it down to its navel and revealing a pale, purplish torso that would seem still to an untrained eye. No, it was alive. Fresh. Her prize was nestled in the body’s chest, on the left side and just above where the heart rested underneath the ribs. 

‘Skin, meat, organ and bone will sustain your children. For you, the core, the soul will be your only nourishment.’

 She traced along the ragged edges of the core’s exterior, throat and stomach cramping painfully as warmth washed over her fingertips. Such a delicate container for something so important… Sacrifices must be made in this life. Sometimes the only right thing to do is let go, even if you aren’t ready to do so. She maps out the shape of the core, still beating, alive, trapped in a vacant vessel that will never make use of it again… 

Sharp nails sunk into the body’s skin, hot blood seeping into nail beds and almost scalding as it overflowed down its pale chest. Thin fingers worm their way through fresh flesh, a soft, wet squelch accompanied iron that filled the air. Bones creak and crack as the core is gently cupped, thick vein-like structures holding it in place and straining as it is slowly freed from its prison. The light from the table lamp began to flicker violently, the body seizing in rhythm with the pulsations, limbs pulling towards its abdomen and jaw clenching the more its core was pulled. A strained gasp hissed through clenched teeth as a vein, a cord, was severed. 

POP! 

CRACK! 

POP! 

Saliva spilled over a lower lip. Impressive strength must be used to free the object of desire, but a careful, delicate hand must be used. Treat it as though it were your own child, with grace yet firmness… A soft whimper rises to the back of a throat. Children’s voices fill the air, all begging and excited with their heads tilted back and mouths open, hopping from foot to foot and jumping on the bed as they wait for mother. Hush, hush, calm yourself. No jumping on the bed. Be good children for mama, she needs to focus. The core is thrumming against her palm, her fingers nearly wrapped around it like a child’s ball. Fingers flex and grip tightly, muscles strained as more force is used. An arm jerks upwards, a sick squelching rising up from the hole in the chest. Blood overflows, splattering all in attendance to the coordination of their one and only matriarch and demi-lord. 

CRACK! 

It is free. 

Light and fragile… So pure and easily lost. She raised it up to her face, just underneath her nose. A metallic, electric scent hit her in waves, as though following the beat of an invisible heart. Her eyes water as something stirs deeply within her own chest. There was a numinous chorus of voices that sang her new name, shrill and tumultuous as she cupped the core in either of her hands and cracked it open with her two thumbs. She raised her hands up towards the sky, almost smiling as she brought the throbbing, liquid-filled chalice to her cracked lips and drank deeply from the essence of man. 

Mother! Mother! Rejoice! Our Lord Krill Mother is born! 

@prettycutebunny, @infinitewhore, @kennbb, @cherrysodalite, @space-arsonist, @pink-soft-shadow, @sinlessdesire, @hoemine, @memoryofheather @horny-3, @redmonarch217

[deepzekrom]

Beast Month 2024, Day 11: Fantastic UB-??Exhaust aka Mykhelium the Strong Wind Pokemon Type: Fairy Flying Abilities:Unburden/Beast Boost HA: Mycelium Might "They are capable of walking on air, as their body is entirely hollow. As they inhale vast amounts of air, the air sacs swell until they expel a massive storm filled with spores. " Basis: Pink Hibiscus Mealybug, Muntjac Deer, Lion Mane Fungi

[seabeck]

Here’s the new Bird’s Nest fungi I saw today! Seek initially called it common birds nest but the spore sacs didn’t look the right color and I couldn’t find any examples of them on site actually turning into the iconic nest shape. inaturalist says they are amorphous birds nest

[maxparkhurst]

Druxy

During my tenure with the Seventh Son’s Trading Company, I specialized in mycology. Fungi are adaptive. They flourish in nearly any terrain; however, this particular species is resilient unlike variants found in places such as the Zaralek Caverns. These caverns below the Isle of Dorn house a myriad of lifeforms co-existing alongside the founts of residual magic left behind by Dalaran’s fall. The mycobloom has not only adapted but evolved with it. The mycelium, left untouched for thousands of years, seems to have fed on this teeming energy. It is a wonder what their limitations might possibly be… - from the field notes of Maxinora Parkhurst

It mattered surprisingly little to Maxinora where the Alliance embassy stationed her. Stored and transported in a velveteen coffer, her alchemy equipment was portable. Her and her work were bound by no border nor boundary; the only limitation was the conflict between ravenous curiosity and overwhelming apathy. Whichever won over the other dictated where the Alchemist would burrow. In the week following her arrival in Gundargaz, Maxinora found herself to possess an insatiable hunger…

By the misfortune of an Earthen innkeeper, Max charmed her way into a spacious room. Clever words and disarming smiles are a foxes key tools, after all. She retreated there after grueling days spent drudging through the Ringing Deeps. Her muzzle soddened in red as she drug the prizes of her hunt home - venom sacs and deepflayer glands, orbinid bulbs and luredrop heads, leyline ash and effervescent spores. A bounty of secrets and truths waiting to be gutted and devoured. And in the cool shadows of a slumbering hearth, she could digest in peace.

The carnage of Maxinora’s curiosity laid waste to any order the room might’ve possessed. Books and parchment, scrolls and maps, gurgling beakers and boiling admixtures. It was an organized chaos understood only by the Alchemist. She found it to be a welcomed comfort. A facsimile that echoed close to home. Enough for her to remember why she sank her teeth into her work, and how to emerge as human once she picked her molars clean. A stalk of mycobloom harvested from the Waterworks was her most recent prize. It lay on a metal tray beneath a the halo of an alchemical lantern. She breathed a slow hum as she cut into the flesh of the decapitated bloom. A skilled incision from the scalpel divided the gills from the cap. Irradiated spores oozed from the wound, drenching the air in a pungently sweet and metallic scent. It was inorganic. Electrical, even.

Max substituted her scalpel for a pair of tweezers. She worked the tip under plant tissue and coaxed the wound open enough to take a peek. She released an nonplussed whistle. Inside - clusters of spores made bulbous and fat from the arcane energy swirling inside them.

“And still I continued to be amazed.”

“What is it? Lemme see…”

The voice. Familiar yet different. Always continuing to be different. Somehow sounding exactly like her brother, and yet not at all. It possessed neither weight nor texture as it reverberated from the shadows, nestling close to Maxinora’s ear. The shadows at her shoulder shifted. A feline shape emerged from the dark, paper-flat and semi-translucent. Its gaze, lament eyes burning bright as green-glass fire, widened then narrowed.

“A mutation!”

Maxinora licked that morsel of truth from a canine as she worked the tweezers tips around an irradiated spore. With a great degree of care and deliberation, she coaxed it from the fungi’s fibers and placed it in an awaiting dish. “The mycelium must have absorbed the arcane energy from Dalaran’s fall.”

“This far underground?” The shadow cat glided from Max’s shoulder, collecting onto the table like a cloud of smoke. Its head canted as it watched her slide the dish under a scope’s lens. A moment of silence passed. Then its eyes brightened like midsummer fireflies. “Oh. The water channels… They’re all connected .”

Maxinora rewarded the shade with a toothy grin as she peered down the scope’s eye piece. It took adjusting the turret to a higher lens and a bit of fine tuning with the focus knobs to bring forth a clear image. The spore was composed of agglomerating pockets encased in a clear, keratin coat. Housed in the core of each pocket was a cortex of spiraling arcane mana. “Ah,” she laughed, the sound equal parts mirthful as it was sly, “You are capable of clever moments, little brother.”

Her jest was met with an unexpected fold of silence that momentarily curbed her appetite. She stole a glance up at the shadow cat to find its eyes gone dark and its form nearly transparent. It wavered. Struggled. Then lingered like an autumnal fog. She tempered her smile as she waited. A moment passed into a minute before the shade darkened and its eyes suddenly reignited.

“Ah! Sorry…” The voice sounded warped. Guttural. Pitch black. Wrong. The distortion lasted only a brief second before being corrected. Her brother’s voice spoke in sync with the shadow cat, “It is hard to keep the connection across such a great distance. What were you saying?”

The fox faded from Maxinora’s smile as she turned towards her work. “Oh, yes,” she offhandedly remarked as she opted for a pair of point tip forceps, “Simply that you are very clever, Augustine.” In a different time, different place, she would be all but certain of his puckish grin. Of the delight shining so bright in wonder-struck eyes. But things were inexplicably different, now. She did not dare to even glance at the shadow cat, afraid to catch a glimpse into its starved gaze. Instead, she pierced the spore and dug beneath its keratin skin. Electricity jolted up her arm as the tines clasped a thread of coalescing arcane, causing the hairs on the back of her neck to bristle. She gritted her teeth and uncoiled a cluster of cores with a single tug.

Nothing but a ringing in her ears.

And a sudden flash of white. A lightning strike.

Blood roared in her ears like the distant roll of thunder as her vision cleared. She possessed no recollection of the interim between extraction and now, though during such time she deposited the volatile thread into a separate tray. Her gaze momentarily flicked to the fiber, watching as it oxidized and was slowly reduced to shimmering dust. “Leyline residue,” she concluded, tossing the forceps onto the worktable, “How… Shocking.”

“Perhaps it would be best,” spoke the shadow cat, eyes following Max as she rose and crossed the room to a leaning tower of books, “If I were to travel there, too.” Its tail swayed from shoulder to shoulder, eyes narrowed in a display of concern. “I worry for you, you know.”

Max dismissed his concern with an offhanded wave. Her gaze scanned the tower’s titles: Letters of Avaloren, Coreway Catalysts, Curse of the Flesh, Observational Reports: Mycology, The Order of Azeroth. “Your concern is appreciated,” she remarked, casting the first tome aside and cracking open the second, “But misplaced. Mishka is a formidable combatant and a serviceable escort.” Coreway Catalysts had been devoured and digested within the first few hours of Max’s arrival, yet she found it worthy of a second glance as a sudden thought piqued her interest. The book spoke of the varying magical lifeforms inhabiting Khaz Algar, particularly those with close proximity to the Coreway. The link shared between them and the World Soul have caused some herbs to partially crystallize. This made Max exceptionally curious: If such creations were capable of adapting to both arcane and life energy, what else might they absorb?

“You know that’s not what I- Hm. Listen. Your methodology is a bit… Well, it lends itself to the extreme.”

“Oh-ho. So said the pot to the kettle.” Max plucked Curse of the Flesh from the tower and added it to her growing stack. Stepping over a moor of discarded notes and theories, she meandered back to the worktable. The tray of shimmering dust was scooted closer, and a fresh piece of parchment was drawn from an awaiting stack. “A bit of sacrifice is necessary, especially when unraveling mysteries as complex as the wilds of Khaz Algar.” She found a quill amidst the cluttered table and dipped it in a half-dried inkwell. There was enough pigment to draw up a legible draft.

“Sacrifices…” echoed the shadow cat.

“Yes. Such is the First Law.”

“I am aware of Equivalent Exchange…”

There was a momentary pause during which Maxinora refused to look up despite having not written a single word.

“But you must know that there are people who value you more than your work? Surely some part of you does.”

Max barked an arsenic-sharp laugh as she set the quill aside. Such a vulpine sound. Her lips twitched up into a sly grin, breath drawn in retort, when she looked up to find the shadow cat gone. Naught left but an ever-dissipating trail of smoke.

Alone again.

Max suddenly dropped her gaze, hands clasped in her lap. Sitting amidst the massacre of her ravenous curiosity, ink drying like blood on her fingers, cannibalized theories and speculations stuck in her teeth, mouth salivating for more and more and more… She suddenly felt very abashed. “I am my work…” she whispered, gossamer soft.

If Maxinora did not possess a shimmering spark for alchemy, an insatiable hunger for knowledge… Then what remained other than a husk of a mycobloom dying dark on a metal tray?

Prologue | Previous chapter |

[lair-master]

Dryad Poisoner’s Kit. This poisoner’s kit, made of bark and leaves, includes the sacs, fungi, and other equipment necessary for the creation of poisons. Proficiency with the kit lets you add your proficiency bonus to any ability checks you make to craft or use poisons. Also, when a poison you crafted with this kit imposes the poisoned condition on a creature, you have advantage on all ability checks to interact socially with the creature until the condition ends.

[es46]

Another carapaceon, this time based on emperor scorpions. - EMVERION Title - Ignition scorpion Monster class - Carapaceon Known locales - Deserts and savannah Element/Ailment - Fire + Defence Down Elemental weakness - Fire (3), Dragon (3), Thunder (2), Ice (1), Water (1) Ailment weakness - Sleep (3), Blast (3), Poison (2), Paralysis (1), Stun (1) Emverion is a carapaceon adapted to surviving in harsh desert conditions, often found roaming in what grassland and savannah endures the droughts. It is distinguished from other carapaceons by its scorpion-esque appearance, notable bearing large malleable sacs beneath its chelae and stinger. As expected, its segmented limbs are diverse; the first pair are for handling, whilst its second and third pair are for walking. The fourth pair varies between sexes; males have small grasping limbs, while the females have large spade-like limbs. Its black carapace is resilient against heat and sand blasts, allowing Emverion to scour its habitat for food in even extreme conditions. Befitting its opportunistic lifestyle, Emverion is an omnivore. It can feed on most anything, whether flora, fruit, tubers, fungi, fauna or even a few mineral forms. As a result, it can flourish where most other monsters can struggle, and is usually expected to be a dominant presence even if it is not necessarily the most powerful monster around. Field workers must be wary around Emverion; while it does not make a point of preying on humans, they are still potential meals if the carapaceon is feeling peckish. Emverion is sensitive to motion and smell, so field workers are advised to stay still and make use of scented mantles to avoid their attention. Emverion is a brutal monster to face in combat. Though physically apt with its hard exoskeleton and powerful pincers, the secret to its success lies in a special acidic chemical produced and stored in the sacs adhered to its chelae and stinger. This acid is released in two forms; the pincers emit it as a gas whilst the stinger launches it as a liqud in high-pressure streams. The corrosive properties are more intense in liquid state, making an effective ranged weapon. In addition, Emverion's chelae have flint-like protrusions that, when snapped, ignite the gaseuous form and thus create a flamethrower. It can also ignite the liquid state, often trapping prey between burning patches of corrosive flame. Evidence of Emverion's cunning can be found in a hunting strategy where it deliberately starts fires and spreads them through its acid to corral prey. This can lead to enviromental discord if allowed to perpetuate, so hunters are advised to maintain a close watch on Emverion activity. As aforementioned, Emverion's sex can be determined by its fourth limbs. Males use theirs for handling spermatophores to present to females, while the females use theirs to dig nests. The female zealously guards her brood to the point of refusing to hunt or forage, and will take care of her young upon hatching until they are old enough to fend for themselves. Their fathers play no part in their lives and are known to cannibalise juveniles, and even their mothers may see them as prey once the maternal bond is broken. Emverion proves a powerful foe for hunters to face (Low Rank - 4, High/Master Rank - 3). Its hardy carapace and combination of ailments and strength are difficult to overcome, but the carapaceon is not without its weaknesses. Piercing the sacs will disrupt its production of the acidic chemical, severely limiting its offensive potential and making it easier to focus on the joints. Emverion tends not to be fazed by larger predators, whom it can scare off by setting the ground around it aflame. It is notably a nemesis to monsters like Serencabra, whose slimy skin is seared by acid and fire, and the neopteran Wyradial, which fights valiantly to try and stop Emverion raiding its food stores. That said, Emverion must be wary of monsters like Seregios, who can outmanoeuvre it and strikes at its vulnerable joints. - Thank you for reading and take care.

[thatmentallystablechick]

Continuing on with the malicious shrooms for #Funguary …today’s prompt is the super-creepy Clathrus Archeri (also known by names like Devil’s Fingers or Octopus Stinkhorn)!

I swear, it seems like everything in the Clathrus family of fungi looks like it’s straight out of some sci-fi horror film - none of them look like anything you’d find on our planet! Clathrus Archeri are a particularly weird species, imo: they grow inside an egg-like sac before emerging and spreading out into the red fungus that you see. They aren’t actually poisonous, either, from what I understand - but they apparently smell so bad that you probably wouldn’t even want to bother trying one!

Fun fact: in my first few sketches for this mushroom girl, I originally had her looking a bit MORE devilish, if that’s even possible (i.e., red skin, black dress, the whole deal)! I always planned to have the fungi growing out of her body as fingers, horns, and tentacles, but somewhere along the way, I got to thinking: “What if her body was like the sac that the fungus grows out of?” And this was the result! Not sure what that means for her when the fungus completely finishes growing, though…probably best not to think too hard about it.

Made with Ohuhu markers and Shuttle Art pencil crayons

[thecryptidhobbies]

Mystical mushrooms book notes

Part two:

Classification and identification

Generally believed that fungi led the way for plants and animals to exist on earth.

First to leave water, separating from aquatic plant and animal life 1.5 billion years ago.

Helped create fertile soil to set the stage for life on land. Plants "eventually" followed about 9 million years later and survived, in part, by establishing a partnership with fungi

Today, mushrooms and all fungi enjoy status as a kingdom all their own, called fungi, which are separate from plants and animals and can trace their ancestral roots back to a single organism

The difference comes in how they obtain food and are further divided into 2 classes:

Basidiomycetes, spore bearing mushrooms whose spores are exposed

Ascomycetes, the largest class of fungi, comprising more than mushrooms, whose spores are contained in sacs

The key to mushroom identification is its spores print. Just like human fingerprints

Common colors include black, brown, cream, pink, purplish-brown, white (most common), and yellow

Other identification considerations include whether juices appear upon breaking, bruising reactions, scent, taste, color, shape, habitat, and growing season