TRAVELING FROM WORLDS TO WORLDS, DIMENSIONS TO DIMENSIONS, ACROSS UNIVERSES AND THROUGH THE MACROCOSM, EUPHEMIA SETTLES WHERE SHE IS NEEDED AND LEAVES ONCE SHE IS NOT.
GUIDELINES:
Mun is 20+, but will roleplay with minors as long as it remains SFW
Any graphic themes are allowed, but will be tagged appropriately
She cannot read your muses minds, memories or past.
She can’t magically fix people’s problems, she can only offer help to those who want to accept it
Considering the theme of this blog, it may have heavy topics present. All triggers are simply tagged #theme (ie: #blood #violence #depression)
If you have certain triggers you’d like me to tag, please let me know!
Activity may be low, as I have other blogs I roleplay on as well.
Please don’t god mod Euphemia or kill her without my permission
You can request her to come to other locations
Shipping is possible with chemistry
MANDATORY DISCLAIMER: I myself am not a licensed doctor. All the advice she gives is off what I research and should not be taken as professional advice.
Go out and look at the stars tonight. Let the darkness between the stars warn you. There is more dark than light in the Universe. We must be part of those small touches of fire that fill an otherwise empty Space. We must choose Light and not delay. Otherwise, Darkness chooses us.
Ray Bradbury, from “Apollo Murdered: The Sun Goes Out,” Los Angeles Times, 17 May 1972 (via memoryslandscape)
You ever meet a kid so shitty you're immediately like "I want to adopt you as my own so I can instill into you the values of dignity and compassion and respect for self and others that your guardians have so obviously neglected, so that you may escape the unhappy future that lies ahead of you with all the smoldering ashes of wasted potential" but also, like. I punt you like a football
Drop the vape u little turd I'm gonna take an active interest in your passions and buy u pants that fit. When was your last dentist appointment. U wanna go to summer camp
Image 1. Digital black and white art. An astronaut is standing on the surface of the moon next to an angel— a young girl with wings and a halo. Together they are holding and looking at an unfolded map, and the girl is pointing to her right as if giving directions. The astronaut’s helmet has a small crack in its glass.
Image 2: Tumblr tags that say “# i just realized # the helmet is cracked # the astronaut is dying # their angel is guiding them to the next life # but it’s happening slowly # it’s not immediate # so they need to find their way there # AH THIS PIECE”. /End ID.]
Thursday is very nervous, on the verge of panic. Since she gave her towel to Euphemia, the next best thing for her to fiddle with is her hoodie sleeves and the drawstrings on the hood. She's in the middle of twisting the drawstrings into knots when the stranger approaches.
Nothing about his physical appearance puts her off. His sudden appearance in the hallway at all, however, does.
"'Something of the paranormal sorts' happening around here? No offense but that's a regular occurrence around here. Actually, the- You know what, never mind. How were you alerted? I don't think anybody's- Hey, wait, don't do that!" she shouts after him when he opens the door. On instinct she lunges forward to stop him but thankfully he has already closed the door, almost as quickly as he'd opened it.
"What the hell, man! Are you crazy?! You march into here from out of nowhere claiming to just randomly know that there's something paranormal happening, then you don't even bother to get all the information before just barging in- YOU COULD HAVE INFECTED MY BABY, YOU-" Thursday huffs and stops herself. Any angrier and she'd have blown steam out of her nostrils. As it is, she forces herself to calm down. Obviously this stranger is trying to help and doesn't mean any harm.
"Sorry, sorry about that. And the ghost isn't the one who's having the problem right now! It's Euphemia who is. Didn't you see all the mushrooms? She's been infected with some kind of fungus and it's- it's- it's eating her! Or- Or growing out of her, or something. I don't think you should go in there without a mask of some kind. Who knows what all spores in the air in there?" She tries to push down the sinking feeling that she's going to have to see if she can get tested to check for possible infection herself. If her baby is harmed...
Doomsday is mildly distracted by the sudden interruption by Leonard, but after scoffing goes back to what she's doing.
"Some people are dumb, man. I'm telling you," she says conversationally, still holding the fire to the little mushrooms. "Hey. Hey we might be getting somewhere with this! Ehehehehe, that's right, you little fuckers. Get out of there!"
The ghost gently tugs on some of the mushrooms that have shriveled up, testing to see how easily they'll come out. She notices that the roots are still in there... That could be a problem. Who knows if trying to pull them out and leaving parts of them inside the body might be like pulling a tick off your body while the head remains burrowed into your skin, still able to infect you.
"Euphemia, I've got a crazy idea," she says, moving the fire along and burning more of the mushrooms as she goes. "And you can tell me no, all right, and we'll think of something else. The mushrooms don't seem to be liking what I'm doing to them, right? What if I went into your body and- and sort of lit a fire while there? I know, it sounds crazy, and maybe it is! Maybe it won't even work. But here's the deal - I can't really hurt you unless my living other wants to. Safe to say she doesn't want to hurt you, therefore I can't. However, there's nothing saying I can't burn things off you or out from inside of you. What do you say?"
Leonard is taken aback by Thursday's yelling, it's evident in his expression and the way he sort of shrinks back from her. Not quite in fear but surprise and bemusement.
"Baby- what are you talking about, madam?" His gaze flits downwards but she isn't showing yet so it takes another second for him to realize what she means. "Oh, my apologies- ahem."
He clears his throat awkwardly, looking between the door and Thursday.
"No, you're right I should've been more careful. I could've put you in danger by opening the door without knowing what's on the other side."
He leans forward on his cane, processing what she tells him. Euphemia. Infected by fungus. Growing out of here….oh. That rotten looking corpse must not have been a corpse at all. His gaze had drifted right over her in favor of gawking at Doomsday.
"I see, I see…so that woman is still alive. I- well to answer your previous question, I don't 'randomly' know about this supernatural occurrence. I have lived in the Offices for many years, not recently of course but I keep an eye on things. For the most part I have tools that alert me when beings with uncommon magical influences appear in the Offices. Sort of like a geiger counter, if you will. I also keep in contact with some of the dwellers of the Office and a few months back a Bradley told me about this strange and bizarre fungi that had appeared in one of the Offices. I've tried to take a sample but attempting to study it led to inconclusive results so I figured it would be best to keep examining them in the wild. Not too long afterwards, my informant disappeared. I figured he might've just gotten bored, if you've met Spencers when I'm sure you must've unless you are brand new here you know their attention spans aren't the best.
"However his Office had started showing the same signs of infection last time I stopped by, although I didn't find any traces of him there. And now this Office. Abandoned, I had thought it was until I came here and found you. And them. I wanted to examine the growth process of this strange fungi and unfortunately it seems like I won't get the chance."
For a moment he looks pained, like not being able to study the mushrooms is worse to him than the fact they are eating someone alive. He sighs and straightens up, pointing his cane towards the door.
"Can you tell me who that is inside with Euphemia?"
Euphemia listens to Doomsday. She wants to say yes, even though the idea of fire scares her. She doesn't want to burn and she doesn't want to die either. It's as if Doomsday has presented her with two options, either rot away or burn to ash. The very thought of it instills a deep, primal fear inside of her, crawling up her spine like ice cold fingers.
No fire. Please.
But what other choice does she have? She doesn't want to rot either. Thinking is so hard in her state, where everything itches and aches and her body is locked in a permanent state of panic.
It's hard to tell where her fear starts and the fungi's desires for self preservation ends.
She feels the muscles seize up and force her head to shake from side to side.
Doomsday arrives on the scene within a few seconds, Thursday practically blinking once or twice before the ghost is there with her. She explains the situation and what she thinks is happening, and naturally because she's pregnant, Doom tells her to wait outside and to back away from the door, which she does. It isn't easy for Thursday to do that, though. Almost every instinct she has is telling her to go in there and help - the only thing that stops her is worry over the new life growing inside of her. Unlike the kind that's growing inside Euphemia.
The ghost secures the door behind her and approaches the poor person without any fear for her own safety - being dead and not needing to breathe has its advantages.
The scene she arrives on is horrific. Quite possibly one of the most horrific things she's ever seen - and she had her soul digested and turned into soup by a parasitic mist creature. She's never seen anything like this before, a person being devoured from the inside out by mushrooms - or by anything, really. There are so many bodily fluids and things going on here she can't tell what's what or what came from where.
In spite of all that she approaches the therapist.
"Hi, Euphemia. We haven't met. I'm Doomsday, an undead Thursday from another timeline. You don't have to worry about me - none of this stuff can hurt me," she explains and moves the towel that Thursday placed on the therapist's back.
"I admit I don't really know what I'm doing, but I have an idea. Mushrooms like the dark, yeah? And moist areas. Maybe they won't like if there's a lot of light and dry heat."
The ghost waits only a moment to see if Euphemia rejects her idea. If she doesn't, then Doomsday holds out her hands, allowing flames to leap to life from her palms. She applies the flames to the mushrooms, careful not to burn Euphemia. Hopefully that will work or at least yield some positive results.
On the other side of the door, Thursday is listening and asking how things are going in the room.
While Thursday is waiting outside for Doomsday to help Euphemia, she'll find herself no longer alone in the hallway. A man is approaching her, his curious looks evident that he's not planning on walking right by her.
Most people would describe Leonard Meltsner as looking like…well, like simply the devil or alternatively, Leeland Gaunt, the character from Stephen King's novels. He's got dark eyes, dark hair, a top hat and a black overcoat, dressed to the nines underneath that and a furnished cane made from dark wood. Alongside the goatie and the occult like jewlery around his neck and on his fingers, he does look like he'd proclaim himself a Satanist or is really into cosplay.
His smile is friendly enough, at least.
"Hello!" The man says brightly. "I don't believe we've met, my name is Leonard Meltsner and I am- well, I investigate cryptids and such. I was alerted of the fact that something of the paranormal sorts has arisen in this Office. Isn't that true? I say it's true from that look on your face. No worries though, I know what I am doing."
Before Thursday can stop him, he walks over to the door, flings it open and peers inside. A beat passes. Then he hastily shuts it again, the smile gone from his face. He looks pale and a bit sickly.
"Well. Honestly, I should've probably asked you before I did that, shouldn't I? Good grief. How long has the ghost been trapped there?"
Meanwhile inside the room, Euphie's eyes struggle to look up at Doomsday. Her eyeballs hurt. They feel heavy and overstrained, she swears she can feel the nerves hardening like there are stems growing behind them. She wonders idly how long it will take for the fungi to take them too, rendering her blind. At this point she hopes that it won't be much longer until they affect her brain too. She hopes it'll be painless when it finally takes over.
She gives her the tiniest nod to let her know its okay to continue. When Doom approaches with the fire in her palm she watches as best as she can but her spine is stiff, forcing her to rely on the feeling of heat getting closer.
It…sort of works. The mushrooms on the outside don't seem to enjoy the heat and slowly they start to burn up and dry out, shriveling until they're hanging off her skin only by their roots. The spores don't puff out from their caps either, although it wouldn't affect Doomsday either way.
But there's so much more inside of Euphemia. She doubts the fire could cleanse her from the inside out or repair the damage to her organs.
Suffice to say Thursday has seen a lot of shit around the offices. But this is the first time she's seen someone stuck like this and coughing up... stuff.
At first she just blinks at what she's seeing, not really sure what she's seeing. Is Euphemia sick? Did she just throw up? That's the weirdest vomit she's ever seen and she can't account for how it looks. It's not wet at all - but a dry dust-like substance.
Of course her first, natural instinct is to pat her on the back again, to see if she can help get more of that stuff out of her. She's obviously having difficulty breathing with it.
"What?" she asks, not quite sure she heard what the other said. "It's- It's okay. You're gonna be okay. We've got a nurse on site and I'll- I can help you, we just gotta-"
She stops when she finally notices all the little mushrooms.
...Okay.
It's true that Thursday is not a mycologist, but it's also true that in her 30 odd years of living as a human she has never seen mushrooms growing off a person's skin. Not a living one, anyway.
It's furthermore true that, being a horror fan and fan of all things horrible and horrific, she has heard of cordyceps fungus and has at least some idea of how it works. It might not be the right conclusion but it's the one her brain makes, and once it does she flinches away.
"Holy sh- Holy shit!" she says in surprise and, well, horror, her voice wispy and thin. "How did this- What- Holy shit! Euphemia! Okay, okay, we can fix this, we can figure this out! Don't panic, yeah? No panicking!" She takes her towel (which she always carries with her) off from around her shoulders and lays it over the back of Euphemia, hoping that it helps even a little.
Her next instinct is to try to brush away the little mushrooms, pick them off her as if that might somehow help, and she goes to do that, but stops when remembers the stuff that Euphemia coughed up... and that she, Thursday, is pregnant.
Her baby... Oh god, her baby-
"Okay, okay, hold on, hold on, okay?" she says in a flurry, stepping away and fumbling while pulling her phone out of her pocket. "I can- I'm going to call for help, okay? I know someone who can help and she- and she won't get- We don't have to worry about her, okay? Hold on."
The Narrator then steps back out of the room and closes the door and immediately calls Doomsday. Doomsday will be able to get here in a matter of moments. Until then Thursday waits just outside the door and keeps talking to Euphemia through it to let her know that she's still there and that help is on the way.
Euphemia can't do much else but sit and hope Thursday understands what she's trying to say. She suppresses another cough which builds up in her and causes her eyes to water even more. As long as she isn't speaking or coughing, she isn't putting Thursday in more danger of getting infected by the spores.
She wouldn't wish this fate on anyone.
cw for body horror, a detailed description of parasitic fungi infecting a body and general grossness under cut
It does hurt, but not in a normal sense. It isn't constant agony, it's far far worse. A deep settling nausea that seeps into her very bones, the instinctive knowledge that she is slowly decaying from the inside out and there is nothing she can do about it other than witness it happening.
It had started with feelings of confusion and the needs to take long naps, a constant thirst and an uneasiness in her gut she can't explain. There's no doctor around to her knowledge and so she simply took matters in her own hands, deciding her body was telling her what it needed. She spent the days peacefully, getting enough rest, reading some books, going on simple walks - but her condition didn't get any better.
And then one day she awoke with the inability to leave her chair, her muscles refusing to listen to her, a pounding headache and a shortness in breath. Yelling for help resulted in a cloud of dust erupting from her throat. It all went downhill from there.
It hurt when the fungi started growing out of her skin, their roots digging into her flesh and finding nutrients to absorb. It hurt when her organs started malfunctioning and she swore she could feel those tiny mushrooms blooming inside of her. Her lungs became fuller, heavier. Every breath felt like she was inhaling sand.
Not the mention the ungodly itching of her skin, which was flaking off in small pieces as it makes room for more mushrooms to dig their way out from underneath it.
Euphemia knows of the restart system. She also knows by the time she'll die, she will no longer be herself. She might not even restart as herself. Perhaps she wouldn't restart at all. Perhaps she will die and her body will stay here, kept alive by a system not of her own, waiting for some poor sap to check on her so they can get infected as well.
She hopes and prays to whatever entities are listening that Thursday will not suffer the same fate.
Finally her companion seems to realize the gravity of the situation and she steps out, leaving Euphemia alone. Except she is calling someone on her phone, someone she says will be immune to these spores. She hopes so - the only thing that is worse than slowly dying is knowing she'll have subjected another person to the same torment.
As soon as Thursday is out, Euphemia lets herself cough. She heaves so violently that she spits up blood, but the warm trickle feels welcoming in her dry throat. The desk in front of her is now covered in mushroom spores, blood splatters and several pinkish clumps she'd rather not know the origins of. Her whole body cramps terribly from the sudden movement and she goes limp, riding through the wave of pain.
Euphie's eyes keep watering but slowly she realizes those aren't tears dripping down her cheeks. The liquid is thick and clumpy, clear, blurring her vision. Some sort of secretion, maybe?
"You can't...? You can't move, from the looks of it. Is that it? Are you stuck there somehow? I got glued to a toilet seat on April Fool's - did Doom glue you to the desk?" Thursday asks, leaning over so that she can try to figure out what's going on.
Oh. Maybe she isn't glued to her desk. She looks like she's seen a ghost - but not Doomsday, maybe something actually scary.
"Er- Okay, I take it you haven't been glued to your desk. Um. Can you maybe- elaborate a little on what you can't? Did you see something scary? That's normal around here! You'll see that it's not so scary. Can I just-"
Not knowing what else to, Thursday tries to pat Euphemia on the back to see if that will generate any results.
Euphemia takes a shuddering, shallow breath, then another one. It sounds like her lungs are clogged up.
When Thursday pats her on the back, she coughs. A cloud of brown-greenish dust bursts out of her nose and mouth, settling on the desk in front of her as her eyes start to water.
"Get...out."
It's not quite dust, if Thursday looks closer. It appears to be fungi spores. Now Thursday is probably not a mycologist, so she won't be able to tell by the dust alone, but the thick, budding mushrooms growing out of Euphemia's skin is a dead giveaway.
It's only clear once she stepped over to her side of the desk. Her lower half looked nearly rotten to the chair, large holes in her skirt revealing pale skin with thick green veins and fungi growing out from in between the fabric. Delicate mushrooms with thin stems and beautiful umbrella caps, brown lumpy ones which squirt out more of those brown spores if pressed upon.
With the way Euphemia's shirt bulged in some places, it's obvious there's a lot more damage underneath her clothes.
"You sh-should leave." Another cough sends out another cloud of spores. "It'll...infect...you t- too..."
