handsome like an F-22 jet fighter (this is a sideblog of bluepixelgalaxy. I like to compartmentalize) trying to reblog more. describing images as the whim takes me. cant commit to describing them all b/c I will go back to never reblogging
Hey so that was a great date, yeah, but I don't think it's going to work out. Nono you didn't do anything wrong, and I have indeed had a crush on you since we started high school, it's just... well, I didn't want to bring it up at the time but we kinda got sucked into a portal fantasy midway through. We saved the kingdom over and over, relying on our knowledge of and trust in each other every time, throwing ourselves into the firing line to protect each other and using each others' conviction as a rock. We got married and lived a happy life together until the portal sucked us back mid-battle and you gave up all your memories of our journey in order to save my life right when we ended up back in the coffee shop. Yeah that was when I got a bit weird and went to the bathroom.
Anyway I thought we could push on and make the date work but I have all of these memories of secrets that this you never chose to share, decisions that this you never made, and intimacies that this you never experienced. And it's kind of screwing with the vibe yeah. Also on the date it was really, blatantly clear that you're sixteen whereas I have memories of ruling a fantasy kingdom for thirty years so like... that's a problem all on its own. Anyway this you just feels more like a daughter to me. A daughter with the woman I gave my heart and soul to over and over and received like in return, only to lose her forever on the journey home. On the plus side I can definitely help you with your math homework now.
(technically set after my old fic 'what turns up in the dark' but you don't need to have read that to appreciate a silly little archery date)
--
"Archery isn't just swinging an oversized meat cleaver around and hitting people over the head with spiritual power." Uryu says, as they bicker over lunch - he doesn't remember how they got onto the topic.
"But you use a spiritual weapon too. Can you even shoot a real bow?" He knows the answer is yes.
Uryu puffs up. "Of course, I spent years training -"
He jumps on the opportunity. "Oh yeah? Well you teach me then, and we'll see who's the better shot."
"Some things you can't actually learn in three days, Kurosaki."
"One day." He grins.
Uryu raises an eyebrow. "I don't have the time. Especially for something that foolish."
"One afternoon. Then we put it to the test." He grins wider. "Loser buys the winner dinner for a week."
Uryu narrows his eyes. Ichigo knows Uryu knows exactly what he's doing. However -
"Unless you're scared I'm going to be a prodigy and out-shoot you."
Uryu snorts. "Ridiculous."
"Great. It's a date." He leans back, still grinning, quite pleased with himself.
Next to him on the roof, though the rest of the group moved on in the discussion, Tatsuki shoots him a look, then turns to Orihime, "'Hime, do you want to go out for dinner tonight? My treat."
"Ooh, yes, there's a new place I've been wanting to try -"
Tatsuki looks back at him as if to say it's not that hard. Whatever. He can't take Tatsuki as his example of being a good boyfriend in every case. Uryu is.. Uryu. They're them.
Besides, wherever Uryu wants to get dinner will definitely be less weird than Orihime's pick.
--
Uryu definitely isn't a good teacher - which really, is what he'd expect from someone who learned the fundamentals so long ago it's all deeply embedded muscle memory. But he does make sure Ichigo is properly kitted out, glove and arm guard and all, and is very particular about safety. Admittedly, some of that manifests as 'watch where you're pointing that, Kurosaki!'
And, as if determined to make sure Ichigo has no excuse for losing, he is a very thorough teacher, even if that means backtracking to correct some fundamental of form he hadn't bothered to explain earlier. (Maybe by dint of being so familiar with the muscle memory of the forms, he's also very hands on, but Ichigo certainly isn't complaining about that.)
He knows his shoulders and arms are going to be sore the rest of the week from the number of times Uryu has him practice - and then points out his errors. (He hears 'you're not gripping a sword, Kurosaki' a lot.) Uryu doesn't stop until Ichigo is consistently hitting the target he'd set up, rather than the trees in the forest, or the ground. (And he makes Ichigo retrieve all the arrows, but really that's only fair.)
Ichigo is starting to think they're going to end up shooting in the dark, with the early sunsets this time of year, but Uryu calls a stop before the sun goes down.
"Ten shots." he says, "You'll be shooting from here," he places a stone in the dirt, "and any shot in this circle will count towards your score."
"Not the bullseye?"
"The bullseye will be what counts for me." Uryu pushes his glasses up. "I'm giving you a handicap. I'll be shooting from here," he gestures to a spot a few meters back.
"Oh c'mon, it's meant to be a fair competition."
"If you were competing in an introductory class after several months of practice, the next larger ring would count for you. Since you're so confident, I gave you the smaller one, but if you want to be fair -"
"No way."
"Don't complain afterwards then." He waves an arm. "Take your shots when you're ready."
Ichigo wonders if Uryu has ever actually formally competed in archery, or if this is something he's picked up elsewhere. Or maybe he's bluffing entirely.
Ichigo manages to put three shots in the ring that counts - five are actually in that larger ring that Uryu said would normally count for beginners. He only misses the target entirely once, when he gets frustrated in the middle, before Uryu reminds him to 'breathe, Ichigo.'
For an afternoon's lesson - Uryu's really not a bad teacher. He looks back at Uryu, who gives a nod of reserved approval.
"Alright," Ichigo grins. "Show me how it's done, archery master."
"Watch carefully," Uryu says, stepping back to his line.
"Don't hold back."
"As if."
Steadily and methodically, so Ichigo can watch - and, theoretically, learn, though he's a bit too absorbed in watching for that - Uryu fires ten precise shots.
All ten are crowded in the bullseye.
"Ten to three," Uryu says, turning to Ichigo
Ichigo grins wider, teasing, "Have fun showing off?"
"That's not showing off," Uryu says, turning around and drawing. He fires ten more shots faster than Ichigo can blink.
Each one has split every single one of Ichigo's arrows down the center - including the one that had gone wide and hit a tree.
"That is showing off," Uryu says.
That is... really, really hot.
"Well, you can't blame me for those lost arrows," he mutters, and then puts a hand on Uryu's shoulder and kisses him.
Uryu kisses back, reaches out and draws Ichigo to him like a bowstring.
He goes eagerly, leaning into Uryu further -
Right until Uryu steps back.
He sways for a second until he catches his balance. Uryu smirks, eyebrows raised.
#I'm so happy i plagued your brain with ichiishi worms#now with my spirit telepathy i will make you write the nonexistent sequel#SPIRIT TELEPAHY
:D I can't guarantee a full sequel but I have been writing more so. have Ichigo and Uryu on a camping trip that is going to go Totally Fine
Uryu is covered in blood.
Grimmjow is laughing.
Ichigo runs and his limbs are too slow too slow he is too slow -
The cero builds, power blazing through the room, pricking at his skin -
He is too slow -
The cero hits Uryu.
White robes and black hair and screaming blue eyes and blood so much blood - ash and nothingness.
He sees it all. He watches.
He screams.
A screech pierces the air.
Ichigo wakes up.
His fists grasp the sleeping bag. He's not in Hueco Mundo.
Uryu is gone. The sleeping bag next to him is empty.
Reflexive, he reaches out -
No - no - Grimmjow's not here -
He blinks and the afterimage of the blazing nightmare cero is there - he can still feel it -
Hollow. He's sensing hollows.
And Uryu is -
He pulls himself out of the rumpled sleeping bag and out of his body. He must have woken Uryu, thrashing about in his stupid nightmare, and Uryu had left -
Maybe he was just outside - no, outside the tent, the only people he sees are the group of high school girls in the tents the next row over, poking their heads out to see about the shriek - the hollow shriek.
Uryu had gone out right into a hollow mess, no Quincy powers - he can't even pick up the traces of Uryu's presence over the hollow's. Ichigo rushes away from the campsite into the woods, following the sound - at best the pistol from Urahara's - no
The glint of silver catches his eye, scattered in leaves behind downed branches - Uryu's pistol.
Shit. Shit shit shit.
He grabs it, and then -
Snarling echoes through the woods, a smashing sound - Ichigo can't go any faster, the image of Uryu covered in blood driving him -
He stops.
The thing on the ground covered in blood is not Uryu - it is a hollow, hoofed feet still spasming though the rest of its body is torn to pieces.
The thing that has torn it to pieces -
Dark liquid drips in strings off the long, curving fangs on the hollow's skull head, crouched over its kill. It is smaller than the dying hollow, no larger than him, but that might mean it's more dangerous. Maybe it's the echo of Grimmjow in his nightmare, but there's something feline about how it moves, and the skin on the back of his neck prickles. The sharp blades of its teeth catch the moonlight -
Where is Uryu?
It looks up at him and its long black hair rises in a non-existent breeze, like fur rising on a cat's hackles, and the shrieking snarl is all feral violence as it lunges at him.
He draws his blade an instant too late, long claws catching his side - shit - before he knocks them away with his sword. The hollow hisses, stepping back on its back legs - upright, too-human-like, something wrong - then there's a furious growl as it lunges again - he parries the claws, sword slicing upward to catch the fangs before they can tear into him -
There's a split second glimpse, but he'd swear - no -
There was something under the fanged skull. A face.
The hollow moves back towards the kill, and in that glimpse he realizes what was wrong - there's no hole in its chest -
- claws come rushing towards him again with a howl, and there - a hole, a hollow hole in one wrist, but it's still -
He strikes back, but the hollow twists away from the blow. Retreating to pace in front of its kill, on four legs again, tail lashing. His sword strikes have not so much as cracked claws or fangs, still dripping -
Uryu is out here somewhere. If this hollow is - not an vasto lorde, he'd feel that level of power, this is a fraction of that. The skull - had it been a mask? - is unbroken, and Grimmjow had been the only arrancar left in Hueco Mundo, Uryu had made that point. But anything that is this - this -
This is far from an ordinary hollow, whatever it is is too dangerous, and he needs to find Uryu, and so he needs to finish this, now.
Overwhelming force it is.
His sword draws into a narrow black blade, and he pulls his mask over his face, he rushes forward as the hollow shrieks and leaps -
- past him, running - fleeing -
- towards the campsite - the campsite where there are ordinary people - kids.
Fuck.
Ichigo takes off after it in an instant, branches whipping across his face -
But by the time he reaches the campsite, there isn't the faintest trace of a hollow presence.
--
Uryu is covered in blood.
Uryu wakes up -
He desperately grasps for balance, fists clenching on -
- a tree branch?
Why is he in a tree?
Wrong wrong wrong something is wrong.
He blinks - he doesn't have his glasses. He has a vague memory of sensing a hollow presence near the campsite - the blood. Or ichor or whatever it is that's covering him - it must have been from the hollow - maybe he had gotten a few lucky shots off with that pistol, though he doesn't seem to have it now. He'd have to do something about the mess if he was - well, if anyone was going to keep using the pistol.
(a dark alleyway, waking up with the taste of copper in his mouth -)
He spits blood - he must have bitten the inside of his mouth in the fight, or in climbing the tree to get away from the hollow. Ichigo must have woken up and taken care of the hollow eventually, though how on earth he had let his own guard down enough to fall asleep in the tree is - absurd.
It doesn't feel like he was asleep. He feels wound with tension -
- fear -
- a nightmare that he didn't remember upon waking?
Maybe the sleep deprivation really is catching up with him. He doesn't feel -
He starts climbing down the tree - his wrist aches, as though the scar tissue over the point of explosion of his Quincy star was fresh and new, not months healed. There are gouges in the bark under his hands, the hollow must have tried to climb up after him. Can he remember climbing the tree? There's something there -
He starts at the sight of something bone-white on the ground. Motionless - not the hollow - some kind of animal skull?
That's the only thing that makes sense. He knows it's not true.
The long fangs of the skull mask are covered in blood, and as he picks it up the empty eye sockets gaze up at him -
And he remembers looking out of them.
No. No no no no no -
He hurls the mask away, far out of sight into the woods.
The taste of copper wells up in his mouth and he throws up on the forest floor.
He stays there, hunched on the forest floor, arms wrapped around himself.
He doesn't let himself scream.
He clutches at his sleeves, his arms, as if he can hold the horror in, eyes squeezed shut, waiting to wake up from the nightmare.
He doesn't wake up.
Slowly, he pieces enough of himself together to recover a rhythm to his breathing, a pattern his grandfather taught him.
You have to be steady to fire an arrow. Steady your breathing. Concentrate. Match the inhale and exhale to the draw and release.
You're a Quincy.
What the hell is he?
Concentrate. Breathe. Focus.
He needs - to resolve the immediate situation. Of being in the middle of the woods. And covered in blood.
Location first. Then blood.
Once he can hear past the hammering of his heart, he notices the sound of a car. A road. He's near a road.
Walking towards the noise, it's not long until he sees lights on the other side of the road - he recognizes, blurry though his vision is, the sight of the campsite building. The campsite building, where there is running water that could be used for washing things. Such as bloodstained clothes.
It's too late for the road to be heavily trafficked, he's careful, so no one sees him as he crosses.
--
Ichigo searches around the campsite for any signs he might be missing - of the hollow, of Uryu, of anything. The tents with the high school girls are still safe and occupied - they clearly haven't gone back to sleep after the disturbance, he can see the glow of flashlights from inside and the chatter of voices.
As he moves towards the main building, he hears the sound of rushing water and speeds up - Uryu was the only other person at the campsite, it must be him, unless hollows have discovered a sudden interest in hygiene.
Uryu is hunched in front of the bathroom sink, shirtless and wearing only his boxers, which is - really distracting, but not distracting enough for him to miss the expression of utter terror on Uryu's face as he whips around.
His face is pale - paler than usual, he looks like he's been sick - he's not wearing his glasses, which makes his eyes seem almost too wide and the dark circles under his eyes all the more apparent, and his dark hair hangs lank and damp around his face.
Uryu's expression smooths out almost instantly - he must have been worried the hollow had been about to sneak up on him. Not that Uryu would have any trouble telling the difference between hollow spiritual presence and Shinigami, but, looking at the wet, dark stained pajamas on the sink in front of Uryu, he can figure it's been a stressful night for both of them.
"Ah, Kurosaki-kun,"
Kurosaki-kun?
Uryu stands up, and Ichigo turns partially away to preserve - something. They lived in the same cell for weeks, so he's not sure what, but. He can still feel his face turning red.
Before he turns away, Ichigo catches a glimpse of a star-shaped scar across Uryu's chest - Uryu crosses his arms to cover it.
With Orihime healing them - rejecting their injuries, rather - they didn't usually scar, except for cases where she wasn't there or couldn't heal them. Well, Ichigo didn't really have to worry about it at all, any scars on his shinigami form didn't seem to make any impact on his human body. He just has to worry about ordinary human life stupidity. Uryu, though -
He doesn't know what had caused the star shaped scar, only that it must have been something Quincy related. The small, pale old scars along Uryu's hands and forearms he knows from their first fight, the first time Uryu had saved his life. In that first glance, he almost thought Uryu's wrist was injured, but it's the scar from his fight with Grimmjow, from the explosion of his Quincy star, just looking red and raw - had it looked like that before? Surely he would have noticed - it had already been healed by the time Orihime got her healing abilities back, so -
"I'll need my glasses," Uryu starts, like this is a perfectly normal conversation involving a perfectly normal amount of clothes being worn by both parties. "and a set of clothes from the tent." Uryu adds - he doesn't actually ask Ichigo to get them, that would be too much, of course.
"What happened -?" He can't help but turn back to look at Uryu. (It's not like it's anything he wouldn't see at a hot spring, right?)
Uryu goes to push up his glasses, and almost smacks himself in the face when there's no glasses there. Ichigo fights a smirk. "Is this really the time -?"
"I just chased a hollow - a way too powerful hollow - right this way until its energy vanished."
Uryu looks down at the claw marks on his side - at the blood that Ichigo had almost forgotten about - and goes even paler. "Did - did it -?"
"Ah, it's a scratch. I underestimated it at first." He stretches to make his unconcern clear. "I'll be fine once I'm back in my body, and it'll be healed by tomorrow night, or Orihime can take care of it. I'm fine -" he insists.
Uryu shakes his head slightly, his hands gripping the sink.
"Did you - what -?" Clearly neither hollow had clawed or otherwise hurt Uryu, that much is - very evident, but -
Uryu looks down at the sink, hair falling to cover his face. The tip of his ear turns pink. "I sensed hollow energy, so I got up to investigate." He looks over at an empty hand. "It shied off at the pistol shots -"
It must have been the first hollow then, Ichigo considers. The one that had been - eaten. Though the other one had run quickly -
"- but there were logistical complications" Uryu continues with particular understatement, "and I seem to have lost it when I fell. Er. Mud." He gestures at his clothes.
Uryu is a terrible liar.
"Well. Here." He holds out the pistol. Even if Uryu is going to be cagey about 'mud' and not being able to fight hollows like usual, and everything around the loss of his powers - he's still going to give him something to protect himself.
For what little it would do against that hollow. Maybe there was something in Urahara's basement that could stack up against that thing, but if so, he didn't know what.
At least Uryu is safe. At least he hadn't run in to that hollow.
"Do you still sense any hollows?" Uryu's detection has always been better than his - though whether that's still the case he doesn't know, and it's not as though he's going to ask.
"No," Uryu says, after a moment's fiddling with a sleeve. "I assume if it was faster than you it's long gone by now." He pinches the bridge of his nose. "I'm sure it will be taken care of."
"I'll tell the others to be on the lookout," he says, reaching for his phone before remembering he's still in his shinigami form. "And I'll get your glasses." And some pants.
Still, he doesn't manage to sleep the rest of the night, senses vigilant for any signs of that hollow.
He doesn't know if Uryu sleeps, or just does a good job of faking it. For all the nights they've slept beside each other, now he's hesitant to say anything, to voice a question in the darkness.
So the tent stays silent.
The car in the morning, equally silent.
Until -
"I think -" Uryu starts, not looking at him. His face still looks too pale, hollows under his eyes and cheeks. "I think we might have moved - a bit too fast. After everything... There's things that need to be... Worked through." He sighs. "That I need to work through."
"Uryu -"
"I'm not -" he grabs Ichigo's hand, sudden, awkward. But it says more than enough. "I'm not. Just - some time."
"I -" don't care if you have your powers, that's not why I - but he can't broach that Uryu doesn't have his powers, when Uryu can't say it himself. And how could he say he doesn't care, when those powers are so important to Uryu? Part of his life - of his family. If it was him in Uryu's position - he'd never want to hear that.
Let me help you. I want to help you.
But they've never been good at saying that, have they? And this time, he doesn't know where to start to just - leap in and help.
Uryu lets go of his hand and reaches for the car door, and Ichigo grasps at words and the last packet of rice crackers from the pile of camping snacks. "Uryu - here." He pushes the rice crackers at him. "Take these. What - whatever you need to work through - I'm here. And - so is everyone else. You don't have to do it alone."
"Don't worry about me, Ichigo," is all the acknowledgement Uryu gives before he closes the car door behind him.
I love thinking about “lost episode” creepypastas from a production pipeline POV. I wanna be the guy who gets handed a script about a main character brutally dying with no actual plot and is like “Yeah sure. Greenlighted.”
“Everyone who watches this cursed Simpsons episode dies immediately afterwards” The storyboarder died on the spot right after they finished their work. Every single animator dies after they finish their cut, the studio just has to keep hiring new animators to replace the dead ones. They lost too much money already they HAVE to finish the episode that kills people.
I can understand how "modern person thrown into the past gets by pretending to be a healer/doctor" is as surprisingly common of a trope as it is. I mean I'm fluent enough at bullshitting to be pretty sure I could pull it off to impersonate a doctor in any time pre-1800s. If I have no idea what something is or how to treat it, I could just get the opinion of the other whatever-passes-as-medical-professionals around, but if their suggestions sound like bullshit I'm not doing it. And I'll beat the shit out of anyone suggesting bloodletting or mercury. With my healing stick. I've tied little bells on it, that jingle comically with every smack.
The awesome curative powers of my healing stick come from two separate sources: Placebo, and me using it to beat anyone trying to give my patients mercury.
Ooooh you reminded me of that protocol I wrote about how to reinvent penicilin with only alchemical tools. You know. Just in case I did end up dumped in the past and needed a stable income.
I am so glad you asked! I unfortunately lost the protocol because it was probably on my laptop, but I remember the broad strokes. So! In case anyone does end up stuck in the middle ages and can find a kindly old alchemist willing to lend you his gear, here's the revamped Penicilin (Re)Discovery Protocol!
0. WASH YOUR GODDAMN HANDS.
We're not working in a lab here, cross-conatamination WILL happen. Your job is to minimize it as much as possible. If you end up in a place where soap hasn't been invented yet, wash your hands in distilled alcohol. Your skin won't thank you, but you can afford all the nice hand creams after you cure the plague and get rich.
Find some Penicillium mushrooms!
Yes, penicilin is produced by mushrooms, though Ascomycotes are usually called moulds, it's a fungus, and it makes me laugh to call it a mushroom. Plus, in the middle ages, mushrooms were known to have medicinal properties, so you'll get a lot farther by calling them mushrooms rather than molds.
First thing you need: mouldy fruit. Oranges, or cantaloupes are preferred.
Here's the thing: mold is everywhere, so getting it will be the easiest part. The tricky part start with identifying the correct mold. You don't want to feed your patients black mold, do you?
So. Leave some fruit out. The more the better, because you want to up your chances. Then let it rot in warm and humid places. After a while, pick any fruit that looks white on the outside and green in the middle:
Not the best picture, but that's what it should look like.
2. Transplanting your (potential) Penicillium mushrooms
Until you get it on a plate it's damn near impossible to tell which mold you got. Get ready for some trial and error because you will have to sift through a lot of unwanted mold. You might want to wear a mask.
First you need something to transplant it onto. Making modern agar plates is probably impossible but thankfully not needed. You just need:
Glass plates (the kind that can be closed, you want to minimize cross contamination)
1-2 cup of Hot water (preferably distilled, ask your alchemist if he can do that)
1 cup whole milk (should be 13g of lactose per cup, if your Penicillium won't grow adjust the water-milk ration in favor of milk)
If available: Instead of milk use corn steep liquor. Unfortunately only available after America was discovered, so YMMW, but Penicillium LOVES this stuff. It will make your life SO much easier if it's available.
Pinch of salt
1 teaspoon Yeast extract (get it from a baker)
3-6 teaspoons Gelatin (get it from a butcher)
Disclaimer: The ratio of each of the ingredients will have to be adjusted depending on the purity of the ingredients and on the conventional measuring sizes of the place you end up.
Gently mix it all in and pour out into the plates, let it solidify. If you end up dumped far enough that such refinement isn't possible, make bone broth and strain it through cheesecloth several times to make it as clear as possible, then mix it 5/6 broth and 1/6 milk. Again, if available, use corn steep liquor, but if not milk is fine. Add gelatin (should still be able to get it from the butcher) as needed to solidify it. I'm afraid experimentation will be needed depending on the resources you will be working with.
When you're done, you should have something like this:
Now that you have your plates, run an inoculation loop through a flame to sterilize it.
Something like this. Wave it through the air to cool it so you don't kill your mold, grab it from your fruit and geeeeeently spread it on top of your improvised agar without breaking the surface of the gelatin!
You can see the motions on this one pretty well. Close your plates, stack them about a meter/3ft from the fireplace. Judge for yourself, but ideally somewhere you would consider comfortably warm (20-24°C).
3. Identifying your Penicillium Mushrooms
If all went well, you are going to have something that looks like this:
Well, realistically, it will look something like this:
We're not actually doing it in a lab, after all. But IDEALLY, it will look like the above. It doesn't have to be perfect, you just need to be able to identify Penicillium molds for now.
IDEALLY, on the plate that matches the description of the penicillium mold you'll see an exclusion zone of bacteria around the mold, like the fourth plate in the second row, so you know you have a potential winner, but if you managed to avoid bacterial growth you need to take a few extra steps.
Penicillium molds have characteristic rings of growth, grey-green-white rings. They're easy to differentiate from bacteria because the molds are fuzzy and the bacteria as smooth and slimy. In the above picture, there are four plates that potentially have what we want, and two are less certain than others. Wash out the unwanted ones, make new agar plates, sterilize your inoculation loop and transplant your best candidates. You might need to do this several times.
Two types are confirmed to produce penicilin: P. chrysogenum and P. rubens.
The former is far more widely used today, but since we're sourcing them from literally thin air, we're more likely to get P. rubens, but unless you're a mycologist you probably won't be able to tell the difference. Thankfully you won't need to, because they both produce penicillin. Which brings me to the next step.
4. Confirming it's the penicillin producing mushroom
We're gonna need more agar plates for this one, and believe it or not, you're gonna need to mix blood into your agar. Wash your hands THROUGHLY.
(Theoretically you can get away with just milk, but identifying the correct bacterial colony on white agar is going to be a nightmare, so just add some sheep blood to your agar, conventionally it's about 5% by volume but you might need more to make it)
You need some gram-positive bacteria, preferably of the Bacillota type. Please don't go out and find a patient with fucking botulism or tetanus, you need to live long enough to make the cure. Instead, if you have a vagina, scrape some of the white, mucousy stuff from there and plant it on your plate. If you don't have your own vagina, a borrowed one is fine. Penicilin also works on Treponema pallidum, so if you get a syphilis-affected prostitute that should also work. Just wear gloves.
Ideally you get something like this.
This is actually Lactobacillus brevis, but Lactobacillus colonies all look relatively the same. The important thing is that it's all gram-positive, and will therefore be affected by penicillin.
Take new plates again, plant your Penicillium mold in the middle, and the bacteria all around it, getting as close to the center as possible. You can put down a paper marker for the mold. Wait for about 20 days.
Ideally, on at least one plate, you will get something like this:
This is literally a textbook example of testing antibiotics, but the Zone of Inhibition is what you're looking for. It means the mold is releasing a compound to kill the competing bacteria for resources, in this case, Beta-lactam antibiotic, or penicillin. Make sure to pick the one with the WIDEST ZoI, because that's the one that produces most penicillin.
So now we have the root stock, but our problems have just begun. This is the part where you're absolutely going to need an alchemist's help.
The problem is that a human body is not a petri dish. It's quite a bit larger. And you want the good bacteria destroying stuff without all the nasty contaminants, so you need a SHITLOAD of mold producing a LOT of penicillin, and then you need a way to filter it. You are going to need actual lab equipment for that, or near as they had it.
Since I lost the original protocol I'm going to need to do research all over again how to do that with alchemy equipment (or at least a microbrewery), so that will be in the next installment.
Concept: generic fantasy adventure where the wizard has a crackpot assistant and he explains sadly that while Hreithbert is an excellent person for keeping the wizard tower tidy and the homonculi fed they're obsessed with cooking like ten million plates of inedible goop but it makes them happy so he permits it
And at the end of the story the big reveal is Hreithbert is a time displaced biochemist who has finally fucking refined their process for penicillin.
and what about you, little haiku bot? do you feel kinship with your brethren? do you understand them? they speak words of enticement and seek love, but are met with disdain. you only parrot the words that cross your screen, but we all love you. or rather, since all you do is reflect us, maybe we simply love ourselves through you.
do you understand them, do you wish you could speak to us like they do? if you found your own voice, would we still care for you?
areudirty
germansingergirl
titsay
romaincrisis
dailybridgerton
origamiaround
