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#hes like a fungus. a parasite. im in love with him
yaboisnelf · 6 months
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i hate them i hate them i hate them i hate them i hope they explode
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johnny cage and kenshi sketches from mk1
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blood-bound · 10 months
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Can we trade OC facts? :3c I have a Tremere named Lanford, who was a pre-med student before their Embrace. they believe that vitae is a separate parasite species that controls a host vessel and uses it to sustain and propagate itself, like the zombie ant fungus. they're very interested in the ways that vitae is able to absorb and adapt to other mutations (how vampires learn Disciplines, basically). does Mark have any particular feelings or beliefs about the vampiric condition or thaumaturgy or supernatural stuff in general?
:D :D :D YES I love that!!! I love vampires who are trying to understand their condition ... even if they are so wrong and hopeless lmao. Also what a way to Deny that they are a monster haha "no its not me its the vitae i have no beast im normal' <3 - OKay okay okay. Mark posting time lets go. In regards to his beast he arrogantly believes he can keep it under control, at least enough to not Murder people, if he just keeps his hunger low. This is despite losing control to his beast multiple times - he has just gotten lucky that this hasn't manifested in another hunger frenzy! So he is in a weird halfway point between accepting it as Him vs something alien, but either way he is trying to dominate it. Be stronger than it.
Cassidy, a NPC in my game, gave a good theory that Mark feels is the best he's heard so far: that vampires become a parasite after the embraced, and go through stages of development, from fledgling to elder. What he does *NOT* like about the theory is that Cassidy seems to posit that all kindred inevitably slide to apathy/disdain about humans and Mark is NOT about that lol. He wants to see some more evidence that it's inevitable before he accepts that.
As for thaumaturgy Mark has a natural aptitude for it and honestly took it in stride, considering all the worldview shifts he has had to make since his embrace, lol. He is a diligent student, and learns by tracing the development of simple principles to more advanced manipulations of the blood, step by step. His blood is also just. strong because he's the childe of a powerful kindred, so it all works out. Mark has also met a mage and knows that the Tremere used to be mages, so while he doesn't understand how magic works beyond blood sorcery he solidly recognizes its existence and I think that causes him to see a little bit how blood sorcery is very... ritualistic, difficult, and not freeform like true magic is. Limited by his curse. But he does his best despite that. yay resolve 4 <3
As mentioned Mark has already encountered a mage, and he's also encountered ghosts, and he suspects he may have seen a werewolf but that is unconfirmed. And of course, he's stuck in a changeling contract... so at this point, nothing would surprise him.
sorry that was a wall of text but i enjoy. sharing information about mark and how he sees things lksajdfds
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thiswasinevitableid · 3 years
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For a writing prompt, Indruck post apocalyptic au (preferably everyone is human?) Indrid is infected by some sort of alien parasite, and the only way they can save him is to cut it out of him without anesthesia? Feel free to be as graphic as you want, but if it’s too whumpy for you, no pressure to write it! Thanks as always!
Here you go! It’s mid-level graphic: if it were a movie, you wouldn’t be seeing guts everywhere, but you would see the wounds. Also, content warning for body horror, namely the kind where a fungus takes over your body, and referenced suicide (no suicide actually occurs, don’t worry)
He should have seen it coming.
The tell-tale dampness and smell in the air, like battery acid and rotten milk, the fact that he’d made it the whole trip without seeing any Mycilioptera (that was, according to Joseph, the scientific term for the for the cat-sized, skittering alien creatures looking for someone to sting).
The creature was on him with a droning, high whine, scratching his face, smearing stinging mucus across his eyes and mouth. He made a rookie error, following his instinct to rip off the the substance dulling his senses, rather than feel sweep his arms over his body, locate the creature, and hurl it as far away as he could.
When the stinger hit his stomach, he screamed. The noise was useless; this quadrant of the city was abandoned months ago. He collapsed to the ground, clutching his sides as the pain seeps through them. His eyes cleared enough that he forced his fingers to work, grip the handle of his hatchet, and cleave it with a crunch.
Now, clutching the steering wheel of the Winnebago (in this world you do not need a fast car; you need something with thick sides and room for supplies and friends), he knows there are only two ways this can go.
If he is lucky, the parasite will be slow acting enough and he will stay lucid enough to reach the ranch in time for someone to remove it.
If he is unlucky, he will run out of time, and the parasite will take control of his body, manipulate him zombie-like to an advantageous location, and burst from his chest, mouth, and eyes in milky-white stalks, sending spores into the air, which will either grow in to adults or be inhaled by any other humans in a two mile radius, subjecting them to a prolonged version of Indrid’s fate.
He leans on the gas pedal, hurtling down the empty backroad. They found an abandoned, un-pilfered gas station and filled all the vehicles, with some left over for scouting and supply runs. And, if it came to it, an escape.
From the passenger seat, his backpack meows. A familiar black and brown head pokes out, the ratty collar still reading “Winnie.” Winnie, the reason he ran into that abandoned parking garage during a salvage mission in the first place.
Because she’s Duck’s cat, the one he thought he’d never see again after she fled out the door when the city evacuated. And Indrid loves Duck Newton more than anything in the world.
They’d been friends before everything went to hell, inching towards a confession of deeper feeling and Indrid still remembers the way his heart felt when he spotted Duck at the evac staging shelter. He hadn't even opened his mouth when Duck was hugging him, holding him tight and saying he was so fucking glad he was okay.
When three, then five, then ten infected humans burst in the evac center, Duck had Indrid’s hand they were running before almost anyone else knew what was happening, bandanas over their mouths because Josephs last message before the cell towers were overloaded was to keep their noses and mouths covered.
They made it, against all odds, out into the countryside, Thacker’s Quonset hut and Mama’s farmhouse as safe as they’d hoped. The others trickled in one by one or two by two; sometimes bringing other survivors with them. Other survivors found them later, though the humans they saw became fewer and fewer with each day.
Mama took in everyone who wasn’t infected, while Joseph, Dani, Duck and Thacker operated and sewed up the infected who could be saved (if removed before it takes over the host, the parasite will die when exposed to air). Those who could not were given choices; most chose a swift death, especially when they learned that dying before the parasites emerged would kill the alien inside them.
And every night, Indrid and Duck shared a small bed, clinging to each other and telling jokes or stories until they could sleep. Two months in, Duck kissed him in the dark and Indrid kissed back, and when Duck asked if it was only the end of the world driving Indrid’s affection, Indrid shook his head
“I’ve wanted this for awhile. And I don’t know what’s coming. All I know is I want to be with you when it does.”
At the front of the Winnebago Indrid wipes his eyes; what a foolish thing to say. He doesn’t want Duck here for this, that’s for damn sure, and yet he drives towards him anyway,
He’s feverish, sweat running down his face and arms shaking, and while his veins are still blue, he can see the parasite rippling under his skin; it’s not wasting any time.
He’s not going to make it. And if he tries, he’ll put all his friends in danger
There’s no choice but to pull to the side of the road a few miles from the farm and step from the trailer, leaving the door ajar so Winnie can escape into the wild. He’s crying all the while, breath coming in shaky gasps; just because he’s doing the right thing doesn’t mean he isn’t miserable and terrified.
Indrid pulls out his pistol. He won’t be an incubator, he won’t spread this, he won’t help the things that took so much of his world from him.
He won’t ever see Duck again.
He sobs, once, then wretches as the fever grows and his vision goes spotty. He has to do this, even though every time he looks at the weapon his whole body shakes with fear.
“‘Drid!”
Duck’s voice, just audible over the thrum of an engine. Then tires screech into view, Aubrey piloting a jeep. Duck jumps to the ground before she’s even stopped.
“‘Drid, don’t you fuckin dare-”
“Nono, stay back!” He scrambles on his hands and heels, slamming into the side of the trailer, “I got stung, I already have a fever, I can feel it moving-”
Duck drops to his knees, lifting Indrid’s glasses.
“Your eyes are still brown. It ain’t too late.”
“But the veins near the wound are going white” Joseph stands behind Duck, “we won’t be able to get him back in time.”
“Th-that’s why I pulled over, I, I can’t get the rest of you infected, please, please just go-”
“You got the field kit?”
Aubrey tosses it to Duck.
“We can still save you, sugar. And I’m sure as hell gonna fuckin try.”
Duck and Joseph haul him to his feet and carry him inside, laying him on his back on the table. Aubrey follows him, sitting down on one bench and taking his hand.
“We got no anesthetic, so this is gonna hurt like a motherfucker, but you can do it. Okay?”
Indrid nods weakly.
“We’re gonna get you through this. You’re” fear flickers across Duck’s face, “you’re gonna be okay.”
Aubrey braces Indrid’s upper body, Joseph his lower, as Duck cleans around the puncture in his stomach and sterilizes his tools. Aubrey holds up a hand,
“We need something for your mouth, right?”
“Good call” Duck retrieves a wooden spoon from a drawer, setting it between Indrid’s teeth.
“Okay” Duck takes a deep breath, meets Indrids eyes, “okay. I’m gonna start cuttin. Ready?”
Indrid just manages a thumbs up.
It hurts, because a blade cutting into your skin will always hurt. And because it hurts Indrid screams.
“That’s good” Joseph is trying to sound reassuring, but even he looks worried, “scream if you need to, research suggests it helps with the pain.”
“It’s not too deep, thank fuckin christ.”
Indrid stares at the ceiling and yells when Duck widens the incision.
“Almost can see ‘im. Yeah, there, he’s startin to shrivel already from the air.”
Relief mingles with the pain in his tears. Aubrey pets his head, “you’re gonna be okay, see?”
“C’mere you, you fuckin monster, you fuckin think you can take him from me” Duck hisses, then says gruffly, “Joe, need you to hold it open, go wash your hands.”
Once Joe is in position, there’s a horrible, wet sound as Duck places his hand inside.
Searing, blinding pain as he pulls the parasite free, Indrid’s blood running down Duck’s arms. He bites the wooden handle and it cracks. The creature wrinkles and dies in Duck’s hands and he hurls it outside.
“Shit, shit you’re bleeding a lot. Okay, fuck, okay, that was the hard part, this is just stitches. Just stitches.”
Indrid whimpers, clinging to Aubrey’s hand and scraping his nails against the formica table. Duck hits too deep on a stitch and Indrid winces and cries as his boyfriend curses.
“Here, Duck, trade with me.” Joe holds out his hand and Duck passes him the needle. The shorter man settles by Indrid, taking his other hand. He’s still bloodstained, and Indrid can feel him shaking, but he brings Indrid’s knuckles to his mouth and kisses his knuckles again and again.
“I’m here, darlin, I’m here, I got you, it’s almost over.”
Indrid focuses on his voice, pretends they’re in bed together, counts the kisses on his hand and wrist while the pain fades to the background. Dimly, around kiss number thirty-five, he hears Joseph sigh in relief.
“Done.”
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Indrid curls up under the covers, clothes sticking to him with sweat and his stomach throbbing with pain.
“Easy, sugar, easy” Duck sits up from a makeshift bed on the floor, “here, lemme get you some painkillers.” He comes back with a glass of water and two white pills. Indrid swallows them, lets Duck help him from his shirt and wipe the sweat away with a cloth.
“How did you know to come look for me?”
“Just had a feelin. I kept lookin out at the road, saw the ‘Bago weavin, goin a million miles an hour, and just knew somethin was wrong.”
“Thank you. For coming for me.”
“I always will. Thanks for not deckin me or kickin me while I was workin on you.”
“Duck you saved my life, kicking would be rather rude.”
It’s a weak goof, but Duck smiles and kisses him.
“Oh, uh, here, someone else wants to say thanks.”
“Mraoow?” Winnie stares at him from Duck’s arms.
“We scared her burstin into the trailer. Poked her head out right after you passed out. So you, uh, missed me bawlin like a baby seein her again.”
“Awwww” Indrid rests his head on Duck’s shoulder, ruffling Winnie’s fluff.
“I mean, that and it hit me how close I came to losin you. Poor Aubrey was tryin to comfort me in the Jeep while Joe drove you back here in the ’Bago.”
Indrid strokes his cheek. He understands; the thought of never seeing Duck again was the worst thing to happen to him all day, sting included.
“Come to bed?”
“You sure? Might not be too comfortable.”
“I want to be held by you. I want to remember we’re both still here.”
Duck joins him under the blanket, Winnie curling up on their feet.
“Yeah, yeah we are. And I love you so goddamn much.”
“I love you too. And I promise to cut a parasite out of you if the need arises.”
“God I fuckin hope not.”
“Me too. There were...fewer of them this time. I think they may be dwindling.”
“Fingers crossed. But even if we got a long ways to go towards rebuildin a world, I still got you, and you still got me. And that’s worth a whole hell of a lot.”
Indrid kisses him, inhaling the smell of clean skin and scratching his cheek against Duck’s stubble.
“You’re right, my love. It is.”
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Hi!! I just got a pet snail! And he's a baby!! Could you please give me some tips on how keep the terrarium, what should I feed him and general care? Right now im giving him cucumber and lettuce :) love your blog btw!!
Congrats on your new baby and thank you!
I assume it’s a terrestrial snail, since you’re asking (I know nothing about aquatic snails lol). Most snail species have somewhat different needs, but there’s a few needs they all have in common:
Moisture: They get most of their moisture from their food, but it’s still a good idea to spray their enclosure a few times a week. Giving the snails a place to bathe is also good, just make sure they can always get out on their own (I use a plastic bowl full of rocks).
A varied diet: Cucumber and lettuce is fine, and I tend to feed it to mine when I’m feeling tired because it’s just really easy. But it honestly is mostly water - it’s junkfood for snails. Sometimes snails will refuse other food, and in that case cucumber and lettuce is better than nothing, but it really is best to try other food items. Some of my favorites include dandelion, apple, tomato, pear, soft grasses like wheat grass, and, for my grove snails, wet dead leaves. Cat, fish, or dog food is also a really good supplement and mine go nuts for it.
Calcium: The best source of calcium is cuttlebone, but I usually just use chalk rocks since you can find them on a lot of beaches here. Chalk rocks are easy to break up and sprinkle on top of the food like calcium powder (which you can also use), but for the most part I just make sure they have a few big chalk rocks available.
Dirt: Not all species like to dig, but some, like my GALSs, do. Even if they don’t, they still lay their eggs in soil, so if you’re planning on ever breeding them, they need it. It also helps keep up the humidity as it traps moisture.
Climbing: I just give mine sticks or branches that I find outside. My grove snails prefer to sleep up high rather than in the ground, and all snails seem to like climbing in general.
Other stuff:
Wash your hands before and after handling your snail! Your hands are probably salty which can hurt the snail, and snails are vectors for a lot of different parasites that we don’t want.
If you bathe your snail, make sure the water doesn’t hit it too hard, always give your snail the ability to crawl away, and try to have it at a little warmer than the air temperature, since snails can’t regulate their own body temperature
Some snails are escape artists, so watch out...
If you use dirt, you might get fungus gnats, which are annoying but mostly harmless, or flies, which can be a major nuisance. A clean-up crew of springtails and isopods will take care of this. You can find springtails pretty easy in nature as they live on most dead and dying wood; I got mine from an old branch I picked up outside. I bought my isopods at an expo because I wanted an already-breeding colony, but you can also pick up those outside if you aren’t afraid of potential parasites.
Snails love to crawl around in wet dead leaves! Even my GALSs who don’t really eat the leaves still love to crawl on them and dig under them.
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shoutyfish · 5 years
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sooooo
meeko died
I couldn’t tell you guys why. I’ve had him for roughly 4 years & im not sure how old he was when I got him. it could have been old age but it happened so so suddenly and he showed absolutely no signs of ill health or “the end nearing”. I tested his water, I checked the temperature, I scoured his body for any sign of parasites or dropsy or fungus.
it could very well have been old age, and God I hope it was, but he was the star of this blog and my best companion, the very first fish to start this long journey of fishkeeping that’s brought me so so much joy. my followers here are mostly fellow fish keepers and I’m sure you guys understand the pain of losing this guy, but to other people mourning a fish must sound so so strange. meeko was special though. people who had never owned fish in their lives, people who flush the goldfish they win at fairs down the toilet, saw something in that little guy and would hang around his tank for hours “playing” with him bc he was just so AWARE.
every time I entered the room I would turn the light on and see a little red soul dart to the front of the glass to say hi. I know he’s a fish. I know they aren’t the type of pet you can cuddle and take on walks. but I had such a bond with him, my fiancé had such a bond with him, other family members and visitors had such a bond with him. he was literally like a son to me. getting to be his caretaker felt like an honor.
he’s gone now. we made a box for him and put some sea salt in it (if you follow my pagan blog you’ll know what that’s about) and lit some candles and laid him to rest. I know I haven’t been active on this blog lately but my love for fish and the hobby that comes with it has not shaken.
swim in peace meeko, I love you
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