#fungiculture

[mico-escobar]

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[hitinnsmushrooms]

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[fuckingrecipes]

Wait, which animals raise livestock?

Several species of ants will 'herd' aphids around (a type of plant lice)- even picking them up and putting them back with the group if they wander off. The ants will attack anything that approaches their aphid herds, defending them. The aphids produce a sugary excretion called honeydew, which the ants harvest and eat.

Some ants will even 'milk' the aphids, stroking the aphids with their antennae, to stimulate them to release honeydew. Some aphids have become 'domesticated' by the ants, and depend entirely on their caretaker ants to milk them.

When the host plant is depleted of resources and dies, the ants will pick up their herd of aphids and carry them to a new plant to feed on - a new 'pasture' if you will.

Some ants continue to care for aphids overwinter, when otherwise they'd die. The ants carry aphid eggs into their own nests, and will even go out of their way to destroy the eggs of aphid-predators, like ladybugs.

--

Microhylids – or narrow-mouthed frogs - have an interesting symbiosis with Tarantulas.

While the spiders could very easily kill and eat the much-tinier frogs, and DO normally prey on small frogs, young spiders instead will use their mouthparts to pick up the microhylid frogs, bring them back to their burrow, and release them unharmed.

The frog benefits from hanging out in/around the burrow of the tarantula, because the tarantula can scare away or eat predators that normally prey on tiny frogs, like snakes, geckos, and mantids. The tarantula gets a babysitter.

Microhylid frogs specialize in eating ants, and ants are one of the major predators of spider eggs. By eating ants, the frogs protect the spider's eggs. The frogs can also lay their eggs in the burrow, and won't be eaten by the spider.

So it's less 'livestock' and more like a housepet - a dog or a cat. You stop coyotes/eagles from hurting your little dog/cat, and in return the dog/cat keeps rats away from your baby.

--

Damselfish grow algae on rocks and corals. They defend these gardens ferociously, and will attack anything that comes too close - even humans. They spend much of their time weeding the gardens, removing unwanted algaes that might overtake their crop.

The species of algae that they cultivate is weak and and sensitive to growing conditions, and can easily be overgrazed by other herbivores. That particular algae tends to grow poorly in areas where damselfish aren't around to protect and farm it.

Damselfish will ALSO actively protect Mysidium integrum (little shrimp-like crustacians) in their reef farms, despite eating other similarly sized invertebrates. The mysids are filter feeders, who feed on zooplankton and free-floating algae, and their waste fertilizes the algae farms. Many types of zooplankton can feed on the algae crop, and the mysids prevent that.

While Mysids can be found around the world, the only place you'll find swarms of Musidium integrum is on the algae farms that Damselfish cultivate.

Damselfish treat the little mysids like some homesteaders treat ducks. Ducks eat snails and other insect pests on our crops, and their poop fertilizes the land. The ducks can be eaten, but aren't often, since they're more useful for their services than their meat.

--

There are SEVERAL species of insect and animal which actively farm. They perform fungiculture and horticulture: deliberately growing and harvesting fungus and plants at a large-scale to feed their population.

Leaf-cutter ants and Termites both chew up plant material and then seed it with a specific type of fungus. The fungus grows, and the termites/ants harvest the mushroom as a food source.

Ambrosia beetles burrow into decaying trees, hollow out little farming rooms, and introduce a specific fungii (the ambrosia fungi), which both adults and larval beetles feed on.

Marsh Periwinkles (a type of snail) cultivates fungus on cordgrass. They wound the plant with their scraping tongue, then defecate into the wound so their preferred fungus will infect it and grow there. They let the fungus grow in the wound a bit, and come back later to eat.

[theoppositeofprofound]

Assigning First Age humans favorite foods for reasons

Bëor/Balan: Holds a traveller’s fondness and fear towards the humble mushroom; he counts himself lucky that Nargothrond is so vigorous in fungiculture.

Haleth: Though she’s eaten orc (before the elves got all hysterical about it) she doesn’t like it. As an older woman she gets a taste for dried hawthorn and very piquant rowan wine.

Marach: Grains are a new indulgence, he was never much of a farmer while on the march. In Estolad he finds a love of barley cakes.

Adanel: Raises ducks for gizzards

Imlach: Turnips in mountain goat butter. Like elves, he’s not “lactose tolerant” but cold climate girls make do.

Andreth: Innovated heavily in the field of Jellies, combining old advice from her teachers and elf lore to finalize the perfect crabapple jam.

Bregor: Lake trout with bitter orange.

Beril: Trained truffle hounds and valued her prizes highly.

Emeldir: Roast pig, fattened and butchered in autumn. As the main coordinator, she takes pride in the finished product and lets herself have a bit of crackling when it’s done.

Barahir: Is impressively lactose tolerant and enjoys an early, soft cheese, baked till its gooey.

Beren: In the dark woods, birds without a brood that year would spit crop milk into his mouth. It isn’t the taste he misses but the sense someone was one his side. Also hot drinks—after years being hunted it’s nice to have the security to build a fire.

Húrin: Lamb with a a certain blend of spices, the recipe reportedly over the mountains by his ancestors. No one uses cumin like Hador’s people.

Huor: The elves of Gondolin kept snail—he’s never been able to recapture the crisp, woody taste of their eggs.

Morwen: Dove, roasted, maybe a little more raw than is advisable but she trusts her butchery.

Rian: Nectar from the woodbine that blooms late in spring

Ulfang: Fresh wild-strawberries; his sons would bring him handfuls of them when they were small.

Bór: He likes a fermented milk, somewhere between kumis and filmjölk, but he’ll also drink milk raw just to flex on Maedhros’ kin.

Aerin: Even before she was tasked with feeding great numbers in the shadow of famine, she had a fondness for the humble onion.

Tuor: Bumblebee honey, dug out of the ground right at the coming of winter, when the bees are dying and don’t need it anymore.

Túrin: A pine nut/bear fat/mandrake pemmican Beleg taught him. None of his friends handle the alkaloid content as well as he does. He likes raw potatoes too.

Nienor: Used to catch the snakes that came to prey on her mother’s birds and make them into soup. As Níniel she eats crabapples before they can be jellied.

Dior: Little minnows found in the cold streams of Doriath and around the island of his birth. Also, eel.

Brandir: Roast chestnuts—he uses his cane to crack them open to the delight of children.

Eärendil: Enjoys shark as a child, before Morgoth’s seeping rot builds up dangerously in local bioaccumulators. Likes fennel in Sirion and the sea buckthorn that grows near his lady’s tower across the waves.

Elros: Seafood is a steady source of protein for an establishing society. Once they have the stores to use their sheep for meat as well as wool though? He’s your king for mutton in almond milk.

[subiysu-chan]

Dark Fantasy

I decided to add to my main capital a good production of fungiculture, (because it cannot otherwise sustain a 600 000 urbain population with only 11 farming villages surrounding of 920 total). Probably Paris mushrooms, although it's not necessarely consistant with the tech level (although, it was already a year-round crop for Paris in the XVIIIth century). I think the simpliest way to solve this issue is to add domesticated cattails to their typical crops, and add add 9 more villages, which would still have a rather unsustainable farmer to non-farmer ratio, but because of imports, it would even out the amount of food the capital is getting. The eastern side of the province have some good wetlands, which tend to have demographic blackholes prior to modern medicine and a food production.

I think that, with four harvests per year plus the mushroom growing, plus imports, would allow the capital city to have all the food it needs.

The province of Penbre has a surface area of about 110 , 344 km from bird's eye view, which is on the smaller side, but it doesn't take the difference of elevation and the various hypothenuses this creates. I changed it to have 20 farming villages, creating a population of very roughly 601 000 individuals, a denity of around 5.4 inhabitents per square kilometer, most concentrated around the rivers with an almost empty back country. The region is well-known for it's production of clay, salt and wool. Because it is a capital, it's upper class creates a demand for the most beautiful pottery and tablewear the world has to offer in a booming bone porcelaine, earthwork and faïence artisanal production. Most houses are built out of stone with terracotta flooring in the city, but some walls of the particularly wealthy prefering brick and plaster, and out of wood and beaten earth in the country side, although some are made out of brick.

Being a capital city near the coast line, it benefits from many imports that trickle down to the villages.

The mountain with the square has an undergrowd Drow and fay city, and the lake houses also a fay population.

The local cuisine is comprised of soft-tasting bread with a nutty or sour undertone, birch-sap products of various kinds, butter, broths, broth-based sauces, stews, freshwater vegetables, cheeses, nuts (cedar and hazel) and cranberry wine. Because of the mer population off the coast, access to many sea-products is more diffecult, but freshwater mussles, crayfishes and carps are an important part of the diet, as well as some salt-water fishes, crabs and oysters. However, the most frequent meats are pork and pigeon. A particular cultivar of domesticated cattails and humidity-tolerant peas are cultivated locally, as well as small radishes. Shallots and rowan are the main condiments.

In the capital, due to the amount of imports, they add buckwheat, honey, wheat, rye, apples, grapes, blueberries, tea and coffee to their diet.

The province of Penbre would be surrounded by those of : Yaune to the East, Aulbec to the South and Lanye to the North. Lanye is the Northern Limit fo the country, but further east is the province of Lennes and further south is the province of Avalbre. Those compromise the entirety of the North-West region.

[accidentalmistress]

New Noelle and Oraion Fic!

It is done, it is finished, it is here. Clocking in at 3,749 words, this one is quite a bit longer than the last. Check this post for all Noelle and Oraion content. I recommend reading the first fic, Experiment 239-185, before this one, as it comes first chronologically. Please enjoy the newest entry to the Noelle and Oraion series:

Enter Knight

Word count: 3,749

CW: some swearing

An unexpected guest drops by Noelle's tower. Can she keep her new "roommate" a secret from her old friend?

The cellar beneath Noelle's tower held the sort of atmosphere typical to many such places: dim, damp, dreary, and damn near perfect for cultivating certain varieties of cave-dwelling fungi. A week or so prior she found herself studying mooncaps, a type of bioluminescent mushroom that were so named for their glowing white caps, and she decided to try her hand at growing them. An acquaintance who frequented subterranean places acquired the initial sample for her. She never did understand why adventurers were always so enamored with going underground.

Once she isolated mycelium from the initial sample, she encouraged it to spawn in a bag of sterilized grain. Trays of damp sawdust and manure substrate, also sterilized, were then inoculated with spawn. A covering of oilcloth kept the moisture in while the trays waited on shelves for new life to form.

Each day she checked the progress of the new mycelium growth and gently sprayed the trays with a little water. They were coming along nicely: the mycelium had begun to form a white mat across the surface of the substrate. Surrounded by the smell of earth and stone, flecks of dirt under her fingernails, amid the magic of growing things—no witchcraft required—Noelle felt more at peace than she had in what felt like ages. If only it could last.

One day, as she spritzed a tray with her water mister, she heard a languid creaking in the tower above like the groaning of a large beast in some sort of gastrointestinal distress.

Someone had opened the front door.

The tower's only other occupant was forbidden from leaving, and only one other person knew the location of Noelle's tower and how to get past the various wards and defenses surrounding it. They also were not in the habit of knocking.

"Noooeeeelle! Guess who's here to enforce your biannual mandatory excursion into the outside world?"

"Oh, Quinns is here!" A bright smile lit up Noelle's face, but it quickly melted into a look of abject horror. "Oh no, Quinns is here."

She pelted up the stairs, her fungicultural endeavors forgotten as she tried to intercept her visitor before they discovered the most recent addition to Noelle's home: Oraion, her magical servant, bound to her by a ritual contract. He also just so happened to be a demon. An incubus, to be precise.

"Quinns! Quinns! I'm right here!" She dashed into the front hall and found them still hanging their cloak by the door. They regarded her with a quizzical look.

"Whoa, hey, what's the big hurry? You think I was gonna turn around and leave if I didn't see you within thirty seconds of arriving?"

"N-no, no, I was just… excited to see you! It's been a little while. H-how have you been?"

A nervous titter escaped her lips, and Quinns regarded her with narrowed green eyes, piercing as a hawk.

"Hmph.” They crossed their arms. “You really think you can hide it from me?"

Noelle's heart crept into her throat. "H-hide? I'm not hiding anything! Wh-what could I possibly be hiding?"

The fact that her voice came out about half an octave higher than normal did not help her case. Noelle was well aware that she was a terrible liar, but what choice did she have?

Quinns took a step towards her. Not as tall as Oraion, they couldn't loom over her quite as effectively as he did, but they knew how to use every inch of height advantage they had over her.

"It's written all over your face… You forgot again, didn't you?"

A bit of the tension fled Noelle's body and was replaced by genuine confusion.

"... Forgot? Forgot what?"

“About our plans today!”

“Oh! Ah, n-no, I didn’t forget! I just got distracted, and, um, I lost track of time.”

They raised an eyebrow. “Really? Then where are we supposed to go today?”

Heat rose in Noelle’s face as she wracked her brain, trying to remember. “Go? We were- w-we were, um, going to- t-to go… go to… the, uh…”

Quinns huffed. "I knew it…" They looked her up and down before they sighed with a shake of their head.  "The Silver Market. It’s over in Graystead this week, remember?"

Noelle’s shoulders slumped as she fidgeted sheepishly with her hands. "Oh, right. I'm sorry… I did forget. Completely." She perked back up, however, as she saw an opportunity to seize. "Oh! Um, I guess that means we should get going then, huh?"

"Wha— already? I just got here. Are you even ready to go?"

"I'll just… grab my bag! Uh, just, wait here a moment!"

"Oookay. I'm gonna grab something to drink in the meantime. I don't even wanna think about how much dirt is in my mouth from the road. Bleh."

They started heading for the kitchen, and Noelle stepped in front of them in a near panic, brown eyes wide behind her glasses. Without any idea of where in the tower Oraion might be, she did not want Quinns wandering around.

"Um! Maybe we could… g-get something on the way? I'll only be a second, really!"

Quinns pressed their lips together in a hard line as their brows knit.

"You're acting really weird, Noelle… What's going on?"

In the kitchen, Oraion leaned against the wall near the doorway, listening. Clearly Noelle didn't want this Quinns person to know he was there, but she was doing a rather terrible job of covering for it. He'd been poking about for a snack when the front door had opened, and unfortunately there was only one way in or out of the kitchen: the door that Noelle was trying to prevent Quinns from going through.

He weighed the options. He could adopt a human form and reveal himself, which would no doubt earn him an earful from Noelle later. With how hard she was trying to fend Quinns off, Oraion imagined that this friend of Noelle's would not have the best reaction to his presence regardless of his form.

Though he may not like being Noelle's servant, he didn't dislike the young witch herself. Teasing her was one thing, but causing her actual trouble… Something about that didn't sit right, though he wasn't sure why.

He didn't fancy trying to climb out one of the narrow windows, and turning invisible was never something he managed properly. He always considered it a cowardly skill and never bothered to put in the effort to study it, something he was beginning to regret.

Another option was to find someplace to keep out of sight until Quinns left. He cast his gaze around the kitchen until it fell upon the pantry door. Now that might work.

It was cramped, and he had to dismiss his wings and wrap his tail awkwardly around his legs, but he managed to get the door closed. Something bumped against one of his horns: several bundles of herbs were hanging to dry over his head. With a roll of his eyes and an irritated huff, he snapped his fingers and assumed his human guise. That got rid of the tail, at least, and he wouldn't knock into anything else with his horns.

"Hiding as a human in a cupboard. The things I do for this girl."

A gap in the door let him peer out into the kitchen just as Noelle backed in with a panicked look around, her russet curls bouncing. When she saw that the room was, apparently, empty, she seemed to relax, if only slightly.

"It's just that, uh, I… h-haven't had time to clean! So everything is, um, a bit of a mess."

That was true enough, what with the pile of dishes in and around the wash basin. Oraion wasn't that sort of servant, after all. He wasn't about to lower himself to the level of a common scullery maid.

He got his first look at Quinns as they stepped into the room. They were slim and androgynous, taller than Noelle yet still firmly in average territory. If Oraion had to guess, he would say that he was taller than Quinns by a head, though to be fair he was taller than most humans. Their hair, a light brown, was shorn close to the scalp on the back and sides, with the length on top pushed over their left ear. Dark circles hugged their green eyes, the world-weary look about them surprising for one so young.

They looked at the state of the kitchen with a frown. "Oh my gods, you're not kidding. You'd think a bachelor lived here."

Oraion snorted quietly and whispered, "You have no idea."

Without thinking he rubbed his nose with the edge of a finger, only to realize a moment later that it was due to a slight irritation.

"That's… not good."

This pantry was where Noelle kept all of her spices, Oraion realized as the smell of them enveloped him like a living thing that clung to him and probed his sinuses. He looked again at the herbs hanging above him and counted lavender and yarrow flowers among them.

"Oh, that's very not good."

Almost on cue, that slight irritation became a prickling, and he sniffled as wetness coated his nasal passages. Damn. He understood his Mistress's tastes, but did his nose have to be this sensitive?

He just needed to hold out until Quinns left, or at least was out of earshot. Surely he could handle that… right?

He grabbed the offending organ between his thumb and forefinger and rubbed, pinching the nostrils closed between his fingers in an attempt to assuage the itching. That earned him a blessed respite, but for how long? Muffled voices floated through the door, and he glanced through the crack again.

"... that dirt on your clothes? Give me your hand… uh-huh, also covered in dirt, and it's under your nails, too. What were you even doing down there?"

"Um, mushroom farming? Oh shoot, I didn't put everything away… I-I'll just take care of it later. Why don't I wash my hands while you drink your water, then I'll grab my bag and we can go!"

"You're gonna go out with dirt on your clothes?"

"Uh, well, they'll just get dirty from the road, right?"

"Not with big streaks of dirt like that. Sorry, but it's kinda obvious that you were wiping your hands on your skirt."

Gods, they needed to hurry it up. Oraion sniffled back a bit of mess that threatened to drip from his nose as it began to run in earnest. Every sniff brought more of the spicy scent into his nostrils, however, not to mention whatever pollen was floating around from when he bumped into the drying herbs.

The prickling returned in full force, tormenting his nares and making them twitch and flare as though they were being teased by a feather's tip. His breath caught.

"heh-hheh-!"

With great effort he managed to keep the hitches to a breathy whisper. If he couldn't get this itch under control, though, it wouldn't matter. He pressed a forefinger tight under his septum, but still the tickle tortured him.

"hhiih… hiihh! Ngh, oh n-no- heh- heh!"

In desperation he slapped both hands over his nose and mouth, squeezing. His shoulders shuddered as his head dipped forward in a silent stifle.

"Fuck, that was too close."

Stifling was difficult enough for him; it was a minor miracle that he'd been able to keep that one quiet. It also did little to relieve the tickle spreading from nostrils to bridge. If anything, it felt worse, like the imaginary feather had slipped inside his nose to tease him.

"Hurry up, Mistress…"

Maybe blowing his nose would get rid of the itching. A quiet snap summoned a silk handkerchief to his fingers, and he blew into it as quietly as he could, forcing the mess from his sinuses. He sniffed in through his cleared nostrils.

That turned out to be a huge mistake.

"Oh shit, I can't-"

The thought couldn't even finish before the burning prickle redoubled and overtook him, that featherish feeling probing deep into his most sensitive spots. No holding back, and he had a feeling this one wouldn't be easy to stifle. His breath hitched helplessly, succumbing to the building sneeze.

"ih-hiihh… hiiHH… eh-hngxk'TSHIEW!"

"Gyah! What the fuck?!"

Quinns jumped like a kaltari deer ambushed by a firelian swamp dragon and looked sharply at the pantry door. Noelle felt the blood drain from her face.

"U-um, I, uh-" Noelle could only stammer, unable to stop Quinns as they marched over to the pantry and wrenched the door open.

There was Oraion, blowing his nose into a lovely silk handkerchief. At least, she was pretty sure it was Oraion. It looked like him, his eyes and long, flowing hair both of bright crimson, except he was human—a human of unearthly beauty, but a human nonetheless. That he even had a human form was news to Noelle, but welcome news at that. She gave a quiet sigh of relief. Perhaps the situation could be salvaged after all.

"Q-Quinns, I can explain. He's-"

Before she could finish speaking, before she could even blink, Quinns leapt back in front of Noelle, putting themself between her and Oraion. A knife had somehow materialized in their hand, and when they spoke their voice had dropped to a threatening growl.

"A demon. Hiding like some lowly brigand in a woman's home! You may look human, but I am a Knight of the Midnight Falcon and I will not be so easily fooled!"

Oraion finished wiping his nose and sighed.

"Well. Now I understand why you didn't want this one to find me."

Noelle grabbed Quinns by the arm, desperate to defuse the situation.

"Quinns, stop! He's not a threat!"

"Not a threat?! Noelle, this creature is extremely dangerous!" They lowered their voice before adding, "I've never encountered a demon of this power before."

Oraion stepped out of the pantry, and as he did so his human disguise melted away. He grinned as though Quinns had announced their last comment to the room.

"Hmph. I'm flattered, of course, but if I'm the most powerful demon you've met, you should count yourself lucky. Though it pains me t- t-to- h-heh-'' He paused, nose twitching. "H-hang on, I nheh- need to sn- snee- hih-hihSHOO! Ugh.” He rubbed his reddened nose with an irritated scowl before clearing his throat to continue. “As I was saying, though it pains me to admit, there are many demons far more powerful than I."

Noelle resisted the urge to smack him.

"Oraion! That's not really helping!"

When she used Oraion's name, Quinns regarded Noelle with some alarm.

"Wait, you know him? Did you know he was a demon, too?"

Before she could answer, Oraion cut in with a smug grin.

"I'll have you know I've been living here for weeks. A little over a month, maybe? Oh, and I'd say she knows quite a bit about me already."

That urge to slap him was growing increasingly difficult to resist with every word out of his mouth.

"Oraion!"

He shrugged. "What? The cat's out of the bag now."

Quinns grabbed Noelle by the shoulders, concern writ clear on their face and fear burning behind their eyes.

"It's worse than I thought: he already has you under his influence. Don't worry, Noelle, I'll free you from whatever enchantment he's placed on you."

"Quinns-"

"Pft, like I need enchantments. I can assure you that she wants me here."

"Oraion-!"

"Silence, demon! You won’t fool me with your lies! I’ll make you pay for what you’ve done to Noelle!”

“You really think you can take me, little knight?”

“Both of you-!”

“Underestimate me at your peril, demon!”

“You know, this is the most fun I've had in weeks. Why don't you entertain me a bit more?”

“I’m ready when you are.”

Glowing wisps the color of rubies began to form around Oraion’s fingertips just as Quinns took a defensive stance and began chanting something in low tones, white runes materializing before them in the air.

Noelle cast about in a panic–she didn’t have any of her usual spellcasting materials on her, but she had to do something to stop them before they hurt each other or broke something important. Was there anything at hand she could use? Sticking out of the pile of dirty dishes in the wash basin was the handle of a long, wooden spoon. It would have to do.

Earth from the dirt on her clothes, water from the basin of dishes, the spoon as her wand, and the power of her own will; she leapt into the space between knight and demon and brought them all together.

“That’s enough! Dispel!”

A small shockwave rumbled through the room like a minor earthquake, rattling dishes and bottles and causing the occupants to adjust their footing. The red glow around Oraion’s hands was snuffed out, just as the runes Quinns had summoned were dispersed as though by a strong wind. Noelle turned on her demonic servant.

"Oraion, sit!"

The demon's eyes flashed with indignation, his lips curling into a sneer.

"You dare to- wuaah!" He yelped as he was involuntarily pulled to the floor by an unseen force, his rear firmly planted on the stone tiles.

"And you, Quinns!" She wheeled on her friend with her hands balled into fists. "If you would just listen to me for once, and trust me-!"

"What? I do trust you!"

"Well apparently not enough to believe me! I am not under anyone’s influence, and Oraion is not a threat!"

"Then why is he here?!"

"Because he's my servant!"

Quinns took a step back, the expression on their face warring between anger, confusion, and shock. When they spoke again, however, their voice seemed calmer.

"What do you mean your servant?"

Noelle took a deep breath and tried to steady herself and her racing heartbeat.

"I wasn't making progress with my studies, and I decided that I needed help. So, I set up a summoning ritual, and-"

"You summoned a demon on purpose?"

"I didn't mean to! I thought that I'd get some kind of familiar—a-a spirit or a minor elemental or… something! But, well, I got him."

The demon in question cleared his throat.

"May I get up now, Mistress?"

“Will you behave yourself?”

He rolled his eyes. “Oh yes, don’t worry, I’ll be a good boy.”

Noelle’s eyes widened and a violent blush rose in her cheeks as it sank in what she had done. "Oh… oh no… I ordered you to sit like a dog." She hid her reddening face in her scarf. “Uuuggh… Y-yes, you can get up now…”

"Wait, you told him to sit, and…" Quinns spoke slowly, sheathing their knife. "So he has to do absolutely anything you say?"

Oraion sighed as he stood and dusted himself off. "It certainly seems that way, doesn't it?"

“Look, I-I’m sorry, but I panicked and I didn’t know what else to do! Can’t we just… go over this like adults instead of having a battle royale in my kitchen?”

Despite his sarcasm moments earlier, Oraion now seemed in bright spirits.

“Well, we’ll have plenty of time to chat on our way to this—what was it? Silver Market?”

Quinns scowled. “Oh no, he is not coming.”

“Why not? It’s the perfect chance for us to get to know one another. Besides, she’s kept me cooped up in this tower ever since she summoned me, and it has grown astoundingly tiresome.”

“Well I didn’t know you had a human form!”

Oraion snapped his fingers, assuming said form with a flourish. “You never asked.”

“All right, fine.” Noelle sighed. “Quinns, I think we should take him along. It… doesn’t feel right to leave him here alone. I-I can keep him under control, and we’ll be in a public place, so it should be safe.”

“Oh come on, I’m a demon, not a monster. We’re just going to a market. You make it sound like you’ll need to hold me back from eating babies.”

“Who says we won’t?” Quinns put their hands on their hips, still scowling.

“Oraion.” Noelle fidgeted with the wooden spoon in her hands. “It’s not that I don’t trust you, but you almost attacked Quinns.”

“Oh, I wasn’t actually going to hurt him-” He looked past Noelle with a questioning glance. “Her? Them?”

“Them.”

“I wasn’t actually going to hurt them, and they started it!”

“Still, I… I expect you to be on your best behavior while we’re out. A-and that’s an order. Okay?”

A shiver ran through Oraion’s body. “Yes, Mistress… ugh, I can never get used to that. It’s like I’m saying it, but I’m not saying it.”

“All right, fine, whatever.” Quinns threw their hands up in surrender and sighed. “Let’s just get going already.”

They trudged back into the front hall. Oraion was close behind, humming merrily. It seemed the prospect of going out cleared any lingering animosity from the near-brawl. As she dropped the wooden spoon back into the wash basin, Noelle hoped she wasn’t making a huge mistake. She hurried into the hall after them.

“Um, I still have to go get my bag and get cleaned up…”

“Allow me, Mistress.” Oraion turned to her and extended his hand, bowing slightly. “Your hand, milady?”

Uncertain what to expect, she put her hand in his, and he spun her around as though they were dancers at a fancy ball. When she came back around, she found that her bag was slung over her shoulder and her clothes, once stained and dirty, were now as clean as if they had been freshly laundered.

“Oh! Thank you.”

“But of course.” He flashed her a grin that made her stomach flutter. “Now, let's finally get out of this dreary tower! I dare say this will be quite a bit of fun. I’m actually looking f-forward t- to- heh… heh… oh d-damn it- hihh-hiiihh… hah-hehHH-IISSHU!”

Quinns leaned towards Noelle with a sidelong look.

“What is wrong with him?”

“Allergies.” Oraion mumbled as he blew his nose into his handkerchief with a wet honk.

“Demons have allergies?”

“Yes, well. I seem to be, ah, rather unique in that regard.”

“That’s weird… Well, whatever, as long as you don’t give me any diseases.”

As they all made their way out of the tower, and the knight and demon bantered ahead of her, Noelle spared a wistful glance for the stairs leading down into the cellar. Ah well.

The mushrooms would have to wait.

[pockethexapod]

My 4th (+ 5th, 6th & 7th) OC for Funguary! (Cornflower Bolete + Hairy Mycena + Podosepula Pusio + Pixie’s Parasol)  

Once the heiress to a bandit empire, Cornelle has since distanced herself from her selfish past to instead pursue fungiculture. When she learned of Laicha’s quest to travel the land and smite evil, she left her farm in good hands before joining the young healer’s cause. Her weapon of choice - a nutrient-rich mahogany log - can be imbued with the magical properties of her tiny home-grown friends, the Goons.

[coentinim]

So, for this fantasy world, I kind of want a moody, rainy setting, perfect for dark fantasy. It'll have a weather pattern of: mild and rainy in Spring, mild and raining in Summer (16 degrees at the hottest), mild and rainy in the Fall (around 1-5 degrees) and mild and rainy in the Winter (around 1-0 degrees). The mountains and mild temperatures allow about 1 to 4 oat harvests per year, with an average of two. The southern regions that are warmer grow barley and wheat. The soil is acidic, and thus smaller variations of shallots, garlic, rosemery, thyme, blueberries, cranberries and lingonberries as the main condiments. Conifer beer is a popular drink. The closeby enemy island nation and the presence of merpeople makes fishing more difficult. Nettle is a popular plant there, because of it's healing properties, usability to make cloth and stinging properties. Birch wood is a commonly present tree, and the shrooms that grow on it pleasant additives to a meager diet. Empty careers for chalk, plaster or clay are used as spots for fungiculture or cheese maturation. This, including some catacombs (although they are only used for this perpose by the anti-social and desperate) are used for fungiculture in urban areas, given the presence of undead attacks, is quite the necessity. I would like this verse to have extensive catacombs and a dungeon not unlike the dungeon of Wyndham in Berserk, and a punisher cast with plenty of internal drama, with loads of drows and zombies.

I see you strive to rival Tolkien. I love to see that! It would have to take place near a sea or ocean since those climates are milder.

[yurinullification]

I prefer the term "DIY bodily fungiculture" over such loaded terms as "yeast infection"

[songder-bot]

The 'garden' for now consists largely of a single raised bed. The sides are fashioned from discarded airship hull pieces. People wait patiently to lay in a spreading motley of plants and fungi. Others are less certain – they loiter on the sidelines and watch the whole business with wary glowers.

There is no sign. No one has ordained that this garden should be so. It is not even sanctioned by the London Horticultural Society; they are conducting their own attempts to assert normality. There is a wide disparity in horti- and fungicultural knowledge on show – some of these plants may well strangle and kill each other before the season is out. But the garden is not there to be beautiful.

[mico-escobar]

¿Qué (micro)agencia está ocurriendo por parte de la Psy0cibin4 en la salud cerebral? Los estudios recientes sobre las microdosis nos acercan a la reflexión sobre cómo el mundo fúngico está relacionado a los cerebros y sus rutas neuronales. Percepción, sensibilidad y salud cerebral son algunos de los temas que como artistæs estamos reflexionando. ¿Cómo podemos seguir creando modelos de sensibilidad en un mundo de crisis ecológicas? #biohacking #serotonin #fungiculture #fungi #biomediality #microperformativity #magicmushroom #brain #DASS https://www.instagram.com/p/CjTzEneu02K/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[kazaligog]

I'm a dreamer.

Hear me out.

I'm not some disney channel memoirist.

This isn't the romanticized declaration of some small town teen who wishes to eventually turn their life around, becoming some low brow musician in the big city.

I don't dream like that.

I'm not fulfilled by picturesque forecasts of my future. My dreams are better suited to function as debt collectors: nightmares. Always charging interest to the concepts they've provided with the intrusion of personal fears for my past.

Though, that's usually the case for everyone. At some point in our lives, we've likely woken up in a cold sweat from some brutally accurate nightmare where we were humiliated by some fictional situation we couldn't control.

It varies: be it a sudden loss of voice during a public speech, wearing only underwear in front of your highschool crush, or lacking the speed to escape a bully.

We are constantly reminded of personal social pressures, made incapable of defending ourselves from it by the fears of our collective subconscious'.

Although, my dreams aren't the average fictional derivative of public school embarrassments. They're nothing like the childlike fantasies I desire.

Everything I see is a War of the Worlds: gray, deteriorating, grotesque, and worst of all, a total reality.

By heart, I have mapped this false world. This map is my bane and my boon; it's the only thing tying everything together clearly.

Yet, not everything about my nightmares is bad. I'm also a writer; I am able to describe the extent of these dreams to placate my fears.

I'm writing this now with a pen growing longer and more winding than a giraffe's tongue as this sliver of wall becomes increasingly surrounded by familiar streets.

Nearby apartment complexes are growing stairs, elongating beyond the walls like a fungiculture escher painting.

Everything around me is similar at best, and at worst, a replica.

I can see the facade of an amalgamated public school surrounded by newly encapsulated tombstones and, not far from there, an abandoned waterpark surrounded by a cornfield.

They're all recognizable places, nostalgic even, but there are no longer stars.

The world lacks sense.

The surrounding trees are bending into geometrically thin and breakable lines. Streets lack the human nature of their construction, no longer containing lines or sidewalks, only long paved strips of land.

This is a nightmare but nothing is chasing me.

There are no monsters, no people, no comedically timed humiliations.

There's just me.

All I can do is observe in lucid mania how my mind has transmogrified the events of my past into something new, all in an attempt to take back what it has given me:

A dream.

[liminaldaze]

Legendary Mushrooms

I’ve seen prompts lists from both @aaytaro-gt and @bittykimmy13 , and I got to thinking about trying my hand at combining the daily words into something. For this, the words were Mushroom and Legend respectively.

-------

When the mushrooms were described to Rileigh as being “the stuff of legends” she’d thought there was some degree of exaggeration involved. Now, standing on a ledge that overlooked the massive underground cavern used to farm the fungi she understood. 

The once naturally occurring space had been modified to better suit the farm’s needs, a myriad of fixtures and structural supports integrated throughout. The lighting that had been installed helped illuminate the rows upon rows of mushrooms being tended to by the alien farmers. Many specimens stood taller than the fieldhands, who, Rileigh knew, were giants themselves. 

Of course, it was the impossibly massive cluster of mushrooms that served as the centerpiece that held most of her attention. They were tree-like in scale, the tallest of which had to be pushing close to eighty feet. The caps, looming above like a forest canopy, gave off a faint, soft glow. She imagined it was quite the sight with the rest of the lights dimmed. 

She’d learned that the fungus was an important staple among their kind, so it only followed that they would have large operations dedicated to the cultivation of the stuff. Even so, she hadn’t quite expected this. It was truly an agricu- er, fungicultural feat, to be sure. 

“There you are,” a familiar voice called, the chamber providing a slight echo to it. She also noted a set of thudding footfalls. “Impressive, isn't it?”

Though she’d turned to regard her friend - and she did spare him a passing glance to be fair - it was the giant ambling behind him that her focus was drawn to. 

Kyle chuckled. “I see you’ve noticed Vertia. She’s agreed to give us a tour of the place.”

Vertia offered a soft smile, which Rileigh had to crane her head a ways back to see. She wore some manner of coveralls and a sturdy looking pair of knee-high boots, the top of which were about half a head above Rileigh’s own. With the hand that wasn’t holding the oversized basket she gave a little wave. 

Several moments of blinking later, Rileigh recovered her wits enough to introduce herself. “H-Hi… My name’s Rileigh.”

“A pleasure, Rileigh,” Vertia replied with a nod, amusement clear in her voice. She lowered herself into a kneel, placing the basket down in the process and giving it a little pat. It was empty, Rileigh realized. “It’s a bit of a trek, and I thought this might help,” she offered by way of explanation. 

Vertia presented her hands, waiting expectantly. “So, who first?

[subiysu-chan]

Drow worldbuilding, part 2

The Pyroxene Drow are one of the most unique elven culture. Drows are a nocturnal race of elves, but persecution that lead to their near-extinction forces them to live underground, only two settlements and cultures surviving: the Pyroxene Drow and the Emrald Drow. The Pyroxene culture is patriarcal and dynastic. In their culture, the ideal man is a good provider, responsable and cunning, while the ideal women is austere and asocial. The paternal aunt plays an important part in rearing of the children, since she takes care of them whenever the mother is unable to, whenever it is feeding, healing, education or discipline. However, the main care-takers are still mom and dad. Because of environmental factors, such as their dependence on Rané, an autotrophe that make the caverns habitable and causes incredible pain to those that eat it, and the Drow have to eat it at least some of the time, they have developped a culture that values a certain form masochism, simply because those who cannot well, tend to basically nerf themselves out of the gene pool. Also, lack of access to moonlight make amputation of the wings as soon as they form a necessity. This amputation have become highly ritualized. Also, Drows, because of the constant pain and suffering they have to go through, have a significantly reduced life-span compaired to other elves. This creates the necessity to create a dynastic social structure, that allows to keep track of inbreeding and to carry out projects that stretch over multiple generations. It is also a key part of politics. The Pyroxene Drow have a monarchic justice system but their civil, regional law is decided upon democratically by vote of the heads of house. Culturally, they deeply value the elderly, as someone who managed to live long through constant torture is considered impressive. They also practice a worship of the ancestors, and honor them by maintaining their work and routine over multiple generations. Taking liberties with dinner time for example, would be considered about as polite to the Pyroxene drow as if spitting on someone's grave. Because of the caverns being poor in nutriants for the fungiculture on which they depend, mummification in their culture is considered a very bad thing to do, since decomposition fluids are essencial to feed the mushrooms, and are preciously collected. In the Drow religious beliefs, the soul has to suffer inside the body during the process of putrifaction, unable to move nor protest, and can only leave for the after life when the flesh has returned to earth and mere bones are left. Skulls however are kept and conserved in memory of those dearly departed. Corporal punishment of youths is considered a parental duty in their culture, as socializing the youths to a lifetime of almost never-ending pain. This does not mean that they do not love their children, or show them compassion, on the contrary, and Drow mothers are expected to be patient, until a certain age at least, of their children adjusting to this reality. The popping out and amputation of the wings for example is celebrated with the youth being fed the best food the family can afford, so they can recuperate faster, and some amount of craddling. The younger brother would be socially expected to marry the widow of the older brother, and similar apply for the younger sister expected to marry the widower of her older sister. Also, the husband and his family is expected to help out the young mother adjust, because no one can be reasonably expected to take care of a toddler with chronic pain while in chronic pain themselves. It is possible, but it's not a desirable situation for anyone.

[roupasbrancasecia]

🥼💕 Jalecos Gola Social na cor branco com punho. Bordado os nomes e o logo @fungicultura.com.br Fungicultura Clientes Instagram @fungicultura.com.br ❤️ Aceitamos Encomendas WhatsApp (11) 93303-3609 Instagram @roupasbrancasecia #jalecospersonalizados #jalecos #jalecosfashion #jalecosfemininos #jalecomasculino #tecnicoemenfermagem #tecnicodeenfermagem #enfermagem #enfermeira #enfermeiro #medicinaveterinaria #medicina #medicines #sus #vacinacãocovid #vacaciones #designerdesobrancelhas #nails odontologia #cabelereira #pediatria #clinicaestetica #paz #amor #alegria #lashdesigner #massoterapeuta #fungicultura #fungiculture #fungiculturafamiliar https://www.instagram.com/p/Cd9RQE2t2_a/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[ask-healingsunny]

Well there are various methods to fungiculture, for example there’s the old traditional method of growing them on stacks/piles of logs, or the more recent way of growing them on indoor trays.

Shiitake and Oyster mushrooms are often brown the traditional way, though growing them on trays is also a great substitute.

If you do the indoor tray method, people usually grow mycelium and young fungal cultures on trays filled with a substrate, usually sterilized grains like rye or millet. The ideal substrate however should have large amounts of nitrogen and carbohydrate to allow for rapid growing, so wood chips, recycled paper, coffee pulp or grounds, and corncobs are also recommended.

They are also often contained in large plastic bags to prevent contamination or pests, though you can also use jars, buckets, and other reusable containers to cultivate the mushrooms if your worried about the environmental impact of plastic. (As you should)

"I'll... Keep this in mind!