#Wasp House Sights

[jupiterswasphouse]

[VIDEO TAKEN: SEPTEMBER 15TH, 2023 | Video ID: A video of a black, yellow, white, and red lubber grasshopper on a piece of paper, wriggling its abdomen and opening and closing the dorsal and ventral valves of its ovipositor in a way that makes it look as if the back half of the animal is its own snapping creature /End IDs.]

Encountered this grasshopper and scooped it up with a letter! Which is about when I noticed it exhibiting this fascinating behavior! It's freaky but very interesting!

#I think that video ID is right? Lemme know #Romaleidae #lubber grasshopper #grasshoppers #Grasshopper #Orthoptera #insects #Insect #Bugs #Bug #Bugblr #Video #Videos #entomology #invertebrates #Inverts #Arthropods #Wasp House Sights

[sage-nebula]

I can understand having a preference for one type of pet over another, for a wide variety of reasons (e.g. allergies, what goes in to taking care of them, your lifestyle, etc) but I'll never understand people who hate a certain type of pet. Like self-professed cat people who say they hate dogs, or vice versa. I've had dogs my entire life, and I consider myself a dog person, but I do like cats, too. Why wouldn't I? They're soft and cute and do funny things sometimes. Even when it comes to pets that I don't find as interesting, like fish, I don't hate them. And even ones I'm legitimately scared of, like tarantulas . . . again, I don't hate them, I'm just afraid of them, just like I'm afraid of all arachnids. It's an irrational fear, but it's one deeply ingrained in me nonetheless.

Anyway.

I just don't understand when people are like "I hate cats" or "I hate dogs" . . . how can you hate an entire species of animal? Being allergic or afraid, okay, I can understand that. Even if I don't understand being afraid because you've been attacked before (I have been severely bitten by dogs and severely scratched up by cats), I'm afraid of arachnids even though I can't remember the last time I had a spider bite, so you know, fears are fears, you can't control them. But hate? I just don't understand it, man. Hate an individual animal, sure. Just like humans, individual dogs or cats can have bad temperaments and behaviors. But a whole species? When most of the individual animals in those species are so easily befriended? It just makes no sense to me. Again, I get having a preference for one pet over another, especially if the needs of one animal suit your lifestyle while the needs of another don't. But to hate a whole species . . . I will never understand.

#again i get phobias or traumas etc #like for instance i have trauma surrounding ants and roaches so if i see even ONE in my house it can trigger a panic attack #but that's a bit different than companion animals too - not that those can't be pets but like. idk. #i mean i DO know it's just . . . it's a little more understandable to me if someone has a problem with insects #versus if they have a problem with companion animals that are meant to be companion animals. but even then it's like #ok. i used to say ''i hate frogs and toads'' which might make me seem a hypocrite #but the truth is that i don't hate REAL frogs and toads. i hate ANIMATED / CARTOON ones #bc when the alt right was using pepe so much years ago my brain linked the two together & so even tho i know pepe's creator renounced them #the sight of him still makes me a little nauseous and it spread toward other frogs #(i also hate Greninja in particular for 1.) being gross and 2.) the behavior of Ash stans but that's another matter) #POINT IS - even with that distinction i never hated a whole species of animal. i just don't get that. even wasps i know DO have a purpose #and i never go out of my way to bother them. in fact i used to work in a house where they had an entire room of the house to themselves #we just didn't mess w/ them. but that's off-topic again #i just. idk. i consider myself a dog person but cats are also great #i just love animals. even the ones i'm afraid of i wish i could like #(and to be fair i do like some i'm healthily afraid of. like i love bears but if i saw a grizzly or polar bear coming for me) #(i would probably piss myself LMAO. i love them from a distance.) #anyway. animals are great. i love animals. more people should give animals a chance to be loved

[sweetest-honeybee]

God I hate night terrors, it’s waking up in fucking fight or flight over something that isn’t even there 😣

#I said I was gonna take a nap #so I did #but before then I had a wasp in my room #and kept worrying about it #so much so that I woke up sprinting out my door at the sight of HUNDREDS of them #blanke thrown light was turned on and I was halfway down the stairs before I woke up a little more #it’s been 20 minutes since then and I still cannot tell if I’m gonna pass out or throw up OTL #my right arm and left shoulder were all numb and tingly when I ran #but it was like they were fuckin #forced to actually work the second I got up #which by the way #is a VERY unpleasant sensation what the FUCK #I’m too tired for this #and it’s 80F in the house OTL #makes the sick feeling worse #I’m just. Gonna lie down for a while #hhhh

[thedisablednaturalist]

If you are someone who hates bugs and kills them on sight (except for those that can actually cause considerable harm) please..just..take a second...think before you act. Does that bug need to die? Are you killing it just to feel better?

Yes, phobias are real. I have arachnophobia. And it's taken a long time for me to get to the point I'm at now where i can hold jumping spiders and be sort of near wolf spiders. I still struggle but to be in a field where you're outside a lot, you have to get comfortable with spiders sometimes crawling on you.

The first step is respect. You don't have to like or enjoy bugs. But you need to respect what their role is in the environment. To make it easier, think of animals you DO like and learn about their relationship with bugs. You really like birds? Well guess what a ton of birds eat. Even birds that don't directly eat bugs may eat things that do (ya know the whole food web thing). Bugs also may positively impact their environment through nutrient cycling, eating other, more destructive bugs, eating harmful molds, bacteria, or fungi, pollination, etc.

I used to be skeeved out by a lot of bugs, particularly bug larvae. Guess what I'm studying right now? Invertebrates are so interesting once you get past the initial discomfort.

Many of us believe invertebrates = gross/scary. This needs to stop. Invertebrates are going extinct so fast and because everyone hates them we don't have enough research to even know how many we are losing. Pesticides/herbicides have completely wiped out a significant portion of the invertebrate population, and that's along with other things like pollution, ocean acidification, invasive species, etc.

We are losing spiders. We are losing centipedes. We are losing tiny flies. We are losing worms and beetles and bees and wasps. We are losing butterflies and fireflies. Some invertebrate species only exist in one small pond or cave. Some have never actually been seen and some have only been seen once. And its affecting all of us. Fish are disappearing from streams because there's nothing to eat. Amphibians are disappearing because there's nothing to eat (and bc of chytrid fungus). Bats are disappearing because there's nothing to eat (and bc of white nose syndrome). Pangolins, axolotls, red pandas, armadillos, woodpeckers, monkeys, salamanders, these all have diets that are either partially or only fulfilled by bugs.

I go outside in the summer, and don't even have to use bug spray anymore. I remember getting chased by swarms of nats and mosquitos. Nights glittering with hundreds of fireflies. Now I only worry about mosquitos in the spring by the water. Even then I have maybe 5 bites at most, when before I used to be covered in bites from being outside. Before I was born, windshields used to be COVERED in bugs when you went down the highway.

Please, you don't have to like them, but please make an effort to change your initial reaction. They are earthlings just like us. They don't deserve to die because they aren't cute. We need more funding and research. They are getting wiped out and people think that's a fucking good thing. Stop using bug zappers. Try using bug repellent that doesn't have DEET in it (only use it if absolutely necessary), take the bug out in a cup and piece of paper, use methods other than pesticides to get pests out of your garden. Yes sometimes you need to kill a tick or get the termites or ants out of your house. Sometimes a venomous spider gets in your house and it's not safe to handle them. Sometimes they are killing your plants and you need to get rid of them. But a harmless millipede who's one defense is to literally curl into a little spiral and is completely harmless? Does it really have to die?

#bugs #bugblr #insects #invertebrates #spiders #worms #im at work currently so i dont have time for sources

[soupsandwich64]

(COD men reactions to seeing a spider. And bees?)

(Note: I have entomophobia so this was written from a place of professional interest at best, in regards to the spiders well beings)

----

Ghost: if its like a itty bitty spider, he doesn't care but will probably swipe/pinch it away like a normal person. If its like a house spider, he'll probably kill it and dispose of it just because it may make him feel like his house is dirty, and also just cause its not meant to be there. For a big spider, he'll probably take a picture of it and then move away if its outdoors but will probably kill it immediately with great ease if its indoors. In a relationship, he is the Bug Catcher. (The person who kills the offending bugs) he is more of a killer rather than a catch and releaser. Doesn't pay particular mind to bees.

Soap: if its a tiny spider, he'll probably watch it crawl around. Will probably brush it off anyway out of habit. A house spider will shock him a little if its alive but he'll quickly dispose of it (will probably get outsmarted by the spider.) a dead house spider will make him feel guilty about not cleaning his house enough to avoid a dead spider. If a big spider is in his house he'll yelp a little but he will probably ultimately be the one to kill it. Is easily persuaded to catch and release, he doesn't care either way. Definitely notices bees if they're around but doesn't mind.

Gaz: probably had an intense interest in bugs as a kid but it died out later in life so now he's just left with a large, albeit hazy, knowledge of bugs (or at least the ones he thought were cool as a kid) and a general feeling of "Oh, neat" when he sees a spider. I take it he doesn't really like things like cicadas or crickets, but is definitely intrigued when seeing the occasional banana spider or praying mantis. He's a catch and release if he can help it, but he doesn't really care if he kills him. This goes for pretty much all ranges of spiders (will kill harmful spiders, on sight). Doesn't mind bees or wasps cuz bro has definitely had his share of stings.

Price: he does not like spiders. He will kill them. And then put down house spray. Not a big fan of bugs in general, but more out of disinterest. Doesn't have time for catch and release unless someone (you) begs him to. Doesn't mind bees.

Konig: doesn't like bugs, kills spiders on sight if they're on him or in his house. Enough said. Will move away from bees, despite knowing they're harmless unless provoked.

Alejandro: likes to be the one that kills bugs in a relationship so his girl swoons. Doesn't mind spiders as long as they're not on him or in his house. Definitely the type of person to let a butterfly or bee chill on him, because he's not the type of person who freaks out over them. Can tell the difference between wasps and bees immediately.

Thats all I have energy for right now.

#gaz #soap #ghost #price #konig #alejandro #gaz x reader #soap x reader #ghost x reader #price x reader #konig x reader #alejandro x reader #kyle gaz garrick #johnny mactavish x reader #johnny mactavish #simon riley #COD men reacting to spiders #COD men reacting to bugs #john price #alejandro vargas #mw2 funny #mwii funny

[notstarcey]

She Magnus on my archives til I

I itch all the time. Deep beneath my skin, where the bone sits, enshrined in flesh, I feel it. Something, not moving but that wants to move. Wants to be free. It itches, and I don’t think I want it. I don’t know what to do.

You can’t help me. I don’t think so, at least. But whatever it is that calls to me, that wants me for its own, it hates you. It hates what you are and what you do. And if it hates you, then maybe you can help me. If I wanted to be helped. I don’t know if I do. You must understand, it sings so sweetly, and I need it, but I am afraid. It isn’t right and I need help. I need it to be seen. To be seen in the cold light of knowledge is anathema to the things that crawl and slither and swarm in the corners and the cracks. In the pitted holes of the hive.

You can’t see it, of course. It isn’t real. Not like you or I are real. It’s more of an everywhere. A feeling. Are you familiar with trypophobia? That disgusted fear at holes, irregular, honeycombed holes. Makes you feel that itch in the back of your mind, like the holes are there too, in your own brain, rotten and hollow and swarming. Is that real?

I’m sorry, I know I’m meant to be telling you what happened. What brought me to this place. This place of books and learning, of sight and beholding. I’m sorry. I should. I will.

I… I haven’t slept in some time. I can’t sleep. My dreams are crawling and many-legged. Not just slithering and burrowing,. though it is the burrowing that draws me. They always sing that song of flesh. I hope you will forgive me for such a rambling story. I hope you will forgive me for a great many things, as it may be I do worse. I have that feeling, that instinct that squirms through your belly. There will be great violence done here. And I bleed into that violence.

Do you know, I wonder? As I watch you sitting there through the glass. Eating a sandwich. Do you know where you are? You called me “dear”. “Have a seat, dear.” “You can write it down, dear.” “Take as much time as you need, dear.” Can you truly know the danger you are in?

There is a wasps’ nest in my attic. A fat, sprawling thing that crouches in the shadowed corner. It thrums with life and malice. I could sit there for hours, watching the swirls of pulp and paper on its surface. I have done. It is not the patterns that enthral me, I’m not one of those fools chasing fractals; no, it’s what sings behind them. Sings that I am beautiful. Sings that I am a home. That I can be fully consumed by what loves me.

I don’t know how long the nest has been there. It’s not even my house, I just live there. Some sweaty old man thinks he owns it, taking money for my presence as though it will save him. I used to worry about it, you know. I remember, before the dreams, I would spend so long worrying about that money. About how I could afford to live there. Now I know that whatever the old man thinks, as he passes about the house with brow crinkled and mouth puckered in disapproval, it is not his. It has a thousand truer owners who shift and live and sing within the very walls of the building. He does not even know about the wasps’ nest. I wonder how long he has not known. How many years it has been there.

Have you ever heard of the filarial worm? Mosquitoes gift it with their kiss and it grows and grows. It stops water moving round the human body right, makes limbs and bellies swell and sag with fluid. Now, when I look at that fat, sweaty sack, I think about it, and the voice sings of showing him what a real parasite can do.

How many months has it been like this? Was there a time before? There must have been. I remember a life that was not itching, not fear, not nectar-sweet song. I had a job. I sold crystals. They were clean, and sharp and bright and they did not sing to me, though I sometimes said they did. We would sell the stones to smiling young couples with colour in their hair. I remember, before I found the nest, someone new came. His name was Oliver, and he would look at me so strangely. Not with lust or affection or contempt, but with sadness. Such a deep sadness. And once with fear. It didn’t matter, because no-one in the shop wanted to hear about the ants below it. I tried to tell them, to explain, but they did not care. The pretty young things complained and I left.

That was when I still called myself a witch. Wicca and paganism, I would spend my weekends at rituals by the Thames. I wanted something beyond myself, but could not stomach the priest or the imam or pujari of the churches. I knew better. I knew that it was not so simple as to call out to well-trodden gods. I never felt from my rituals anything except exhaustion and pride. I thought that those were my spiritual raptures.

I wish, deep inside, below the itch, that they were still my raptures. I have touched something now, though, that all my talk of ley lines and mother goddesses could never have prepared me for. It is not a god. Or if it is then it is a dead god, decayed and clammy corpse-flesh brimming with writhing graveworms.

When did I first hear it? It wasn’t the nest, I’m sure of that. I never went in the attic. It was locked and I didn’t have a key. I spent a day sawing through the padlock with an old hacksaw. My hands were blistered by the end. Why would I have done that if I didn’t know what I would find? The face of the one who sang to me dwelling within the hidden darkness above me. I had seen no wasps. I know I hadn’t. There are no wasps in the nest. So how else would I have known that I needed to be there, to be in the dark with it, if it had not already been singing to me?

No, that’s not right. The nest does not sing to me. It is simply the face. Not the whole face, for the whole of the hive is infinite. An unending plane of wriggling forms swarming in and out of the distended pores and honeycombed flesh. The nest is nothing but paper.

Was it the spiders? There were webs in the corners, around the entryway into the attic. I would watch them scurry and disappear in between the wooden boards. ‘Where are you going, little spiders?’ I would think. ‘What are you seeing in the dark? Is it food? Prey? Predators?’ I wondered if it was the spiders that made the gentle buzzing song. It was not. Webs have a song as well, of course, but it is not the song of the hive.

I used to pick at my skin. It was a compulsion. I would spend hours in the bathroom, staring as close as I could get to my face to the mirrors, searching for darkened pores to squeeze and watch the congealed oil worm its way out of my skin. Often I would end with swollen red marks where it had become inflamed with irritation or infection. Did I hear the song then?

Was it when I was a child, such a clear memory of a classmate telling me a blackhead was a hole in my face, and if I didn’t keep it clean it would grow and rot. Did I hear it then, as that image lodged in my mind forever? Or was it last year, passing by a strip of green they call a park near my house, after the rain, and watching a hundred worms crawl and squirm to the surface.

Perhaps I’ve always heard it. Perhaps the itch has always been the real me, and it was the happy, smiling Jane who called herself a witch and drank wine in the park when it was sunny. Maybe it was her who was the maddened illusion that hides the sick squirming reality of what I am. Of what we all are, when you strip away the pretence that there is more to a person than a warm, wet habitat for the billion crawling things that need a home. That love us in their way.

I need to think. To clear my head. To try and remember, but remember what? I was lonely before. I know that. I had friends, at least I used to, but I lost them. Or they lost me. Why was it? I remember shouting, recriminations, and I was abandoned. No idea why. The memories are a blur. I do remember that they called me “toxic”. I don’t think I really knew what that meant, except that it was the reason I was so very painfully lonely. Was that it? Was I swayed and drawn simply by the prospect of being genuinely loved? Not loved as you would understand it. A deeper, more primal love. A need as much as a feeling. Love that consumes you in all ways.

You can’t help me. I’m sure of that now. I have tried to write it down, to put it into terms and words you could understand. And now I stare at it and not a word of it is even enough to fully describe the fact that I itch. Because ‘itch’ is not the right word. There is no right word because for all your Institute and ignorance may laud the power of the word, it cannot even stretch to fully capture what I feel in my bones. What possible recourse could there be for me in your books and files and libraries except more useless ink and dying letters? I see now why the hive hates you. You can see it and log it and note it’s every detail but you can never understand it. You rob it of its fear even though your weak words have no right to do so.

I do not know why the hive chose me, but it did. And I think that it always had. The song is loud and beautiful and I am so very afraid. There is a wasps’ nest in my attic. Perhaps it can soothe my itching soul.

#the magnus archives #tma shitpost #i have too many statements saved onto my phone #magnus archives #help

[alice-blogs-things]

The Haunting of Hill House (Show) vs The Magnus Archives

Finally started listening to the Magnus Archives this summer, so of course I wanted to see if I could combine its lore with my other favourite horror production of recent times.

The Crain Sibs vs the Avatars

Steven Crain- the Eye

Places a lot of emphasis on visual evidence when conducting his paranormal investigations

"I've never seen a ghost" Has actually seen several, along with many other fucked up things his siblings did not, such as the warning signs of Olivia spiralling.

Placed in the role of protector of the younger four from childhood, expected to watch over them and keep an eye on them, a duty that never goes away

Come on, you can't tell me that if this guy met Jonathan, especially in the first season, they wouldn't get along.

Shirley Crain-Harris- the Corruption

Bugs feature most prominently in her episode, which features an actual wasp nest

Her kittens all end up being diseased, in effect corrupted before they have a chance

Her literal job is to paint over dead bodies so they're more palatable to look at, while fully knowing the rot beneath, which she is paid to conceal, but can't escape from herself

Theodora Crain- the Eye

Technically has touch-based powers, not sight-based, but her powers come with an immense burden of secret knowledge, Knowing things she shouldn't know

Can't shake hands with someone without getting a front row seat to the worst things they've ever done

Literally Saw her mother as a dead body long before it actually happened, and was terrified by it

Luke Crain- the Lonely

Everyone, the viewer included, thinks his childhood best friend is imaginary.

He's often seen playing alone in the flashbacks, and faces his encounter with William Hill's ghost entirely alone as well

His one friend as an adult ends up betraying him and leaving him alone- making genuine, non-familial connections seems to be an ongoing struggle.

Nell Crain-Vance- the End

Was literally haunted by her own death for twenty-six years and didn't know until it was too late

Her adult self doesn't appear in the second half of the show, except as a ghost

Is tricked into walking- or falling- into her own death by the promise of reuniting with those she's already lost- death is a constant presence for her.

Bonus: Olivia Crain- the Spiral

The more time she spends in Hill House, the more she loses her grip on reality

She's effectively lured into this by Poppy, similar to how Michael and Helen were

Ends up bound to the house, a twisted corruption of her best qualities, no longer able to really know what's best for her family

#the haunting of hill house #thohh #the magnus archives #tma #steven crain #steve crain #jonathan sims #shirley crain #theodora crain #luke crain #eleanor crain #nell crain #olivia crain

[jungle-angel]

It Takes A Village To Catch A Menace (Rhett Abbott x Reader)

 Summary: You and Rhett adore your kids, but once they’re turned loose with their cousins, they give everybody a run for their money

Tagging: @rhettabbotts​​ Shelby, I hope you’re doing ok. I know things have been kinda rough but I thought this might give you a good laugh and cheer you up a bit

 No one could have asked for a better day than this, the threat of a long, hot summer approaching from around the corner and the Dutton Land near to bursting with the new life of spring. So many animals had been born as soon as spring hit, mostly from the cattle, but to everyone’s surprise, even the bison hadn’t slacked in the procreation department. Everyone was reeling with excitement when it was discovered that a white calf had been born to a female in Felix Long’s herd, a highly auspicious sign in everyone’s eyes.

Rhett, Rip and Kayce leaned against the wood rails of the paddock fence, watching the little calf graze with its mother, the cow clipping the grass and the little one sneaking in to nurse every so often.

“It’s gonna be a good year, that’s for sure,” Rip remarked, pushing his aviators back up onto his nose. 

“Herds are doing great, land’s nice and green,” Rhett added. “Couldn’t ask for better.”

“Yeah and in two weeks, you and I are gonna be uncles again,” Rip chuckled. 

“Because THAT horn dog over there couldn’t keep it in his pants!” Rhett laughed, pointing to Kayce.

“Fuck all o’ ya’ll and the horses you rode in on,” Kayce retorted. 

Rhett laughed but deep down, he knew Kayce and Monica deserved it. Sure, they had Tate, but after one rough ride, Monica had given birth to Jake, their precious little rainbow baby and Felicity after that. Now, another little girl would be entering the family in just a few weeks. There wasn’t a day that went by where you and Rhett hadn’t kept the family in your prayers, grateful for the lifelong bond you all shared with one another. 

The three men kept talking away, hardly noticing the smaller footsteps traipsing through the grass behind them. Rhett, Rip and Kayce turned to find Tatum and Tanner, yours and Rhett’s twin boys, Rip’s son Joey and Kayce and Monica’s little boy, Jake, running through the grass with something in their hands. 

“Whatcha got there boys?” Rhett asked them. 

“Nothin,” the four little boys chirped. 

Rhett, Rip and Kayce all looked at each other, knowing that nothing usually meant something. 

“I’m gonna ask ya’ll one more time,” Rhett warned them. “What’ve ya’ll got in your hands?” 

“There’s a wasp nest in the tree daddy,” Tatum chirped. 

“Yeah, a big one,” Tanner added. 

“And we’re gonna burn it off the branch,” Joey proudly declared, holding up one of John’s cigar lighters. 

Rhett, Kayce and Rip were suddenly overcome with a look of fear on their faces, almost as though each one had just shit themselves. 

“Uh oh,” Tatum said meekly, noticing the look on his father’s face. 

“HAND THAT SHIT OVER!!!!” 

“NO!!!!!” 

The four little boys took off into the grass, their fathers all hot at their heels as they leapt over the pasture fences and chased them around one tree after another. 

You and Beth had just come out onto the front porch of the main house, coffee mugs in hand, ready to relax and enjoy the morning before helping Monica with whatever she needed. All of a sudden, you heard the shouts of small children and three grown men coming up behind them. 

“Oh my God, what did they get into now?” Beth chuckled. 

“Well, I noticed at least three cans of hairspray and your dad’s cigar lighter was missing,” you answered. 

Beth almost choked and spat out her coffee. “Why the fuck do they even have that?!” 

“One of life’s great mysteries I guess.” 

You and Beth fought the urge to chase your sons through the yard, letting their fathers try and catch them for once. John’s heavy footsteps came up beside you, his gaze fixed on the sight before him. “Anybody have any idea where my good cigar lighter went?” he asked. 

“Why don’t you ask your devil grandchildren Dad,” Beth answered. 

John laughed and shook his head when a loud curse from Rip reached his ears. “I’m gettin way too old for this shit,” he chuckled before pulling his phone from his pocket and hitting the record-video button on his camera.

*******************

“C’MERE YA LITTLE SHITHEADS!!!!” Rhett bellowed as he, Rip and Kayce charged across the grass towards the barns. 

“No we need it!!!” Tatum yelled back. 

“BULLSHIT!!!” 

Teeter and Avery leaned out the window of the loft where they had been stacking haybales all morning. ”What the fuck are them lil goat turds doin now?” Teeter questioned, adjusting the Astros cap on her head. 

“No idea but by the looks on their faces, I’d say it’s not good,” Avery answered. 

“SOMEBODY HELP US CATCH THESE DAMN KIDS!!!” echoed Rhett’s voice. 

“Ight, let’s go git’em,” Teeter sighed climbing through the trapdoor and down the ladder. “Them idjits have suffered enough.” 

Teeter and Avery headed down into the main stables where three of the other ranch hands were busy feeding the horses. “The fuck’s all that yellin about?” Lloyd asked. 

“Them lil skunk-herd motherfuckers are at it again,” Teeter answered. “Ya’ll got the oversized feedin sacks?” 

Colby tossed her one and Jimmy took another before giving one to Avery. “What’re ya’ll doin with those?” Lloyd questioned.  

“Gonna go and catch’em,” Teeter answered before sticking her gum behind her ear. 

“Well, if ya’ll are goin, I’m goin too,” Lloyd chuckled. “I ain’t missin this shitshow.” 

Teeter led the way and the ranch hands all hurried to the other end of the pasture, blocking off the only escape route the boys had a hope of taking to outrun their fathers. 

“Keep’em steady boys!” Teeter ordered. 

The kids came charging over the hill with Rhett, Kayce and Rip still on their heels, clutching the cans of hairspray and the lighter as if their lives depended on it. In a split second, each one of them tumbled right into the feed sacks, the hands closing them right up as they wriggled and squirmed inside. 

“Thanks guys,” Rhett blurted out, completely out of breath as he took one of the sacks that had a twin inside of it. “We owe ya’ll one.” 

“You don’t owe us shit,” Lloyd told him. “Here, c’mon, bring’em back to the bunkhouse, I’ll make damn sure they’ve got the fear of God in’em for this one.” 

Rhett, Rip and Kayce followed them all back to the bunkhouse, hoping that this time the boys would learn their lesson. 

****************

“Are you shitting me?” Thomas Rainwater laughed as he watched the video John had pulled up on his phone. 

“No, wait, it gets better,” John told him. 

Thomas laughed and shook his head as he heard the loud curses and Beth’s remark. Mo tried to hide his laughter too, but it was no use. Neither of them cared who in that office saw them or heard them. It was just too funny to look away from. 

“I take it they went down to the fire station?” Thomas asked him. 

“Nope,” John replied. “Didn’t have to do that. Lloyd took’em aside and showed’em what’ll happen if they do it again.” 

Thomas and Mo each made a face knowing that Lloyd’s tactics, as unorthodox as they were, would at least stick with the boys for a long time. 

“Well,” Mo sighed, scratching the back of his head. “Maybe there’s an advantage to all this.” 

“You’re damn right Mo,�� John said. “There’s definitely an advantage.” 

“And what might that be?” Thomas asked him. 

“If that bitch, Caroline Warner, ever comes onto the property again and tries to pry the land out of our hands, we’ll just sick the grandkids on her,” John explained. “Odds are no land developers will ever come back.” 

“Truth be told, I like those odds,” Thomas grinned. 

#outer range #yellowstone #rhett abbott #rhett abbott x reader #rip wheeler #kayce dutton #rip x beth #kayce x monica #lloyd pierce #thomas rainwater #john dutton

[dedalvs]

Treasure of the Castilian or Spanish Language

My good friend gave me this very small book that was a translation of some of the many thousands of entries from a Spanish dictionary written at the turn of the 17th century. The original was by Sebastián de Covarrubias Horozco, and the dictionary was described, at the time, as "a large work of…slovenly erudition". The translator included only a few entries (the book is 62 pages long), but, let me tell you... You're in for a treat.

Here are some entries from a monolingual Spanish dictionary from 1617:

AJO (GARLIC)

Garlic is so well-known that one need not describe it. Garlic is not a food for courtly people. The leopard abhors the smell of it; if the leopard's lair is scoured with garlic, the leopard forsakes it. Garlic rubbed against the trunk of a tree keeps caterpillars away.

ANDRÓGENO (HERMAPHRODICTIC)

Some say that women have three wombs on the right side and three on the left and one in the middle; some wombs create males, the others females, and the one in the middle hermaphrodites. And others attribute even more wombs to women, and many allow for none of this.

APIO (CELERY)

The symbol of sadness and weeping.

BERENJENA (EGGPLANT)

Eggplants are not beautiful. They taste insipid; they sadden the spirit; they cause headaches; their bad quality comes out in the face of he who eats too many, giving it their livid or dark green color.

C

It is a silent letter. It was called the sad letter.

COCODRILO (CROCODILE)

The crocodile follows the man who flees it, and it flees the man who follows it. It flees from saffron. The crocodile that follows the one who flees it and flees the one who follows it is a symbol of glory and honor. A crocodile surrounded by wasps need not be feared.

DIAMANTE (DIAMOND)

The diamond can be worked with no instrument except another diamond and the hot blood of a goat.

DRAGÓN (DRAGON)

For a serpent to become a dragon, it first had to eat many other serpents.

FADAS (FAIRIES)

Enchanted nymphs or women who pretend they cannot die.

GALLO (ROOSTER)

The rooster has a hidden virtue: when placed in the presence of the lion, it makes the lion run. The rooster always faces its beak to the wind—this keeps its tail feathers composed. Roosters grow livelier with garlic paste.

GIRASOL O TORNASOL (SUNFLOWER)

Salute this plant.

H

Its figure is formed of the light and the strong.

HIEDRA (IVY)

The copyist making a clean copy of my papers left this word between the lines, and many other words remained with it, forgotten, as I was so sick I couldn't write with my own hand or look over what was written in another.

HORMIGA (ANT)

Some ants grow wings to lose themselves.

JIRA (PICNIC)

To a certain friend it seemed that the word "picnic" may have come from the Greek word for "pig," because the day the pig is killed is a day of joy, and because of the many good morsels that the pig provides, and furthermore the whole house rejoices, even the children, who play ball with its bladder. The pig is the rich man who has poor debtors and grunts like a pig his whole life until he dies.

LAMER (LICK)

Sheep lick salt, dogs lick blood they find on the ground. To lick plates is proper to boys who delight in belly cheer.

LECHO (BED)

Delight in leisure grew, and men invented sleeping on the delicate feathers of the breasts of swans and other birds and on mattresses of cotton and wool, and even with all this the delicate can sleep no more than if they threw themselves on brambles and thistles because of the cares and passions pricking their souls.

LEÓN (LION)

The lion isn't as brave as they say. For the Egyptians it symbolized the heart, the sun, the earth, or he who subjugates others' hearts. It suffers from mosquitoes that bite its eyes; it flees from the sight of the rooster and the rooster's voice, particularly if the rooster is white. Why this is so is unknown. Nature provided that this most ferocious of animal be less prolific than the rest, in contrast with the fecundity of the fearful little rabbit. The lion cub ravages its mother's womb with its claws. The lion forgives.

MIEL (HONEY)

Common honey is nothing but dew that falls over the leaves of grass and trees that bees deflower and lick with great appetite, swelling in size until they are forced to vomit.

OSO (BEAR)

It is unwise for brave men who hunt these wild beats to wait and fight them face-to-face, since bears tend to be dangerous.

PULGA (FLEA)

This insect is made from dust and a little dampness.

Q

"Q" is mute, because it sounds like "c" and in a certain lazy way, like "k."

SANGRE (BLOOD)

Blood of the dragon: the true blood of the dragon is the blood that runs from the dragon that has fought with the elephant, which, atop the dragon, crushes it. The dragon tries to cling to the elephant's belly as there the elephant's hide is thin, and the blood that the dragon sucks out mixes with its own and becomes the true blood of the dragon.

SIETE (SEVEN)

There are books written only on this topic.

TÚ (YOU)

A primitive pronoun of the second person.

UFANO (SMUG)

Soaked in joy like the breadcrumb in liquid that loosens and puffs.

VIDRIO (GLASS)

That which pleases us most about glass is its transparence. If glass did not break, silver or gold couldn't compare with it. The Romans used glass clocks. The ancients drank from glass cups with great delight, as do those now for the joy the sight of glass gives us: if you fill it with water, it seems like a diamond, while red wine makes it like a ruby, and white wine, a balas burning with color, a quality that cups of myrrh, being like mirrored black stones, do not possess.

VIGÜELA (VIHUELA)

Very few have learned to play the vihuela since the invention of guitars. This has been a great loss, as the guitar is no more than a cowbell, an instrument so easily played, especially if strummed, that every stable boy plays it.

X

The drunk becomes an "x" because his weak legs cross. A very erudite man censors this letter.

YESO (GYPSUM)

A stone that glints like crystal. A poison. I do not understand how some young women peel the crust off the walls and eat it like icing.

ZUCIO (DIRTY)

Sweat keeps man from being lustrous.

***

This is but a selection. I've omitted the shortened definition of elephant, which was originally twelve pages long (this guy evidently revered elephants—and roosters. And goats. I omitted that one, too, as it was long). The translator is Janet Hendrickson, and you can find this book at ndbooks.com. It's an absolute treasure.

#language #spanish #español #dictionary #dragon blood #bears do tend to be dangerous

[wormbloggign]

taylor stop lifting techniques and tactics from others challenge (impossible)

yeah.. you're a cloud of various insects, people arent looking to get in your way

taylor its not innate cmon you need to notice the swarm covering you isnt a comforting prescence for anyone but you

(also, if someone fights grue and wins, his darkness would dissipate. if they fight skitter and win, they have to deal with the many insects who are VERY pissed, and VERY unpredictable. it's simply a more extreme implicit threat than what grue has)

is she.. emulating coils convo tactics?

(TAYLOR STOP LIFTING OTHERS TECHNIQUES AND TACTICS CHALLENGE (IMPOSSIBLE))

to taylor the bugs are just her little guys, doing their best with what they got

to everyone else the bugs are spiders, flies, and wasps; vectors for poison, infection, and pain all organised by their thousands under a single cunning mind

its a very funny bit of dramatic irony (not the right term)

honestly surprised it took her this long to tell that to the PRT, taylors favourite pasttime is outing bad actors in their system

the funniest way to get immediately excecuted, ballsy move taylor

notably in those records she was telling the truth consistently, miss military seems to buy a little too much into armsmustards narratives

BY SUPPLYING RELEVANT CONTEXT TO THE SITUATION, DO YOU THINK STARVING PEOPLE WHO STEAL BREAD DESERVE JAILTIME FOR THEFT?????

(miss minutia seems very dogmatic in her beliefs of justice and criminality, kinda cringe ngl)

skitter im sorry to say but im pretty sure theyve known for a while now

they havent gone after your civillian identity yet because you havent really been findable as taylor herbert and in the rare cases you've gone out as taylor, they've had much bigger fish to fry

oh

that mustve taken a lot miss militia, i can respect that

2 ways to take this, either tattletales doing some mind games with how skitter is perceived or she wanted to get a better look at taylors butt

knowing lisa, probably both

oh yeah that too maybe

the bug pass over she does on people is very funny bc people almost definitely read it as a weapons check or an intimidation tactic but no, she just wants to know what the person she's talking to looks like

her face and eyes were covered in blood no wonder were more tense than normal "ooh why are people so unnerved around me" you look like a monster from a horror movie, you're walking around like you dont even need sight to know everything around you (she couldnt see regardless but they didnt know that)

oh theres no way they don't know her identity now

it takes one person with probably low to medium security access to hear that and go "gee, let me run a check to see if anyone with Skitters brown hair and skin colour (they wouldve seen at least that on the skitter clones, even outside how disfigured they were) matches with anyone who is blind or has been recently blinded" and then bam you find taylor with her school's recorded connection with Sophia/Shadow Stalker, her locker incident (possibly a trigger event?) her absences from school which start a couple days after skitters first appearance, line up with skitters activity AND escalate to 0% attendance once Skitter starts doing things like participating in the Endbringer event and soon after claims territory (a full time occupation seemingly), if you keep digging it seems she has moved out of her dad's house around the same time to an undisclosed house on the edge of town (no actual address given, possibly a misdirection), her father and all of his work friends survived (with minimal injuries) the Shatterbird announcement at the begining of the Slaughterhouse 9's occupation and they stayed alive for its entirety, And as a cherry on top, Taylors last 2 documented interactions with the public is Asssaulting a minor which was handled and doccumented by Shadow Stalker and COILS BOMBING where she was one of the survivors but was BLINDED, shortly after MYSTERIOUSLY DISSAPEARED with no release or transfer papers signed (or if they were, it'd be signed by Lisa W or an unknown third party)

OR

they could just ask dragon

...

that was kind of long sorry

back to the livebloggign!

(insert funny masking joke here)

sometimes i wonder if taylor has a death wish (hint: yes)

i sincerely doubt that. our girls tolerance for abuse is ridiculously high by now

the writer is fucking with me. the day we get a proper breakdown of anyones costume is the day hell freezes over

are we just gonna pretend that isnt deeply disturbing and violating?

eh, alright

taylor may know the kind of thing he saw but its very clear from how he's behaving, whatever he experienced has a lot harsher of a grasp on his psyche, probably because his trigger event and the context around it happened at such a vulnerable and young age

anyway hows that search for a villains therapist going? i really think they should invest in one

TATTLETALE YOURE GOING TO GET THE SECRET ASSASSIN SQUAD AFTER YOU PLEASE

lisa either never fucks around or never stops fucking around and i cant tell anymore

#liveblogging worm #Scourge 19.2 #worm is a comedy. to me

[jupiterswasphouse]

[PHOTOS TAKEN: SEPTEMBER 12TH, 2023 | Image IDs: Four photos of a grey, brown, and black cicada on the end of a brownish grey wooden post /End IDs.]

#cicadidae #cicadas #Cicada #hemiptera #True bugs #bugs #bug #Bugblr #insect #insects #entomology #arthropods #Invertebrates #Inverts #photos #photo #Wasp House Sights

[adastra-sf]

The "Murder Hornet’s" Invasive Cousin Is Spotted in the USA

A social wasp from southeast Asia (and plaguing Europe for a decade), the yellow-legged hornets’ egg-shaped paper nests are commonly found in trees and house an average of 6,000 workers. To feed these workers, the hornets hunt insects... which is bad news for everyone:

This species prefers to eat honeybees.

Add the larger size of the yellow-legged hornet to their strength and thick exoskeleton, and you get a bad outcome for bees when these hornets attack.

"Vespa velutina are 'true hornets' and are exceptional predators," according to Clemson University's Land-Grant Press.

The vespa genus includes both this yellow-legged hornet and the northern giant hornet, Vespa mandarinia (aka the Asian giant hornet, or, more frighteningly, "murder hornet," for the deadly and violent havoc they wreak on bee colonies).

They're distinct from North America's wasps. Common U.S. insects such as yellowjackets and "bald-faced hornets" are sometimes called hornets, but they're not in the same genus as the Asian hornets. Crucially, those homegrown bugs don't wage gruesome warfare on bee colonies.

Most hornets prey on other insects’ larvae, and many species target nests of other social bees and wasps. The yellow-legged hornet descends upon a bee nest, kills off the workers defending the nest, and feasts on the larvae - true devastation of an entire local honeybee existence.

Note: Please don't go killing insects that look like this bad boy - native wasps and "hornets" might appear the same, but they can help control this invasive species. Report sightings instead.

More info in the NPR story: X

Screenshot from the Popular Mechanics story: X

Georgia's press release, including link to report sightings: X

#murder hornet #insects #invasive species #hornets #entomology #my screencaps

[themarginalthinker]

Day Blind

(It's been a long time since David's seen the sun. Elder Sarah shows him a memory.)

(Let's let David have something nice :> Elder Sarah and the Sarahs are ocs that will be explored further in the main story, but they are a coven of vampires who lives in an area close to the Boys' pack, and who they visit semi-regularly.)

-

It’s the height of summer, and the world is alive.

A lonely cabin tucked away in the woods is not so lonely now. Within its walls, despite their own iffy relationship with the concept, a lively group has come to share stories of a year gone by, and ready themselves for more to come.

The coven enjoys the pack’s presence, as distant family enjoys each other for a reunion, though their groups aren’t related or bonded by blood.

Michael and Dwayne look after Little Saira, the toddler vampire growing into her teeth with every passing month. Mother Sara watches them with a hawk’s gaze all the while. And if David’s not mistaken, before he left he thought he saw Weird Serra, Marko, and Paul slip off into the night, a glint he well-recognizes in all their eyes as hands wandered to what clothing kept from sight…

But that wasn’t his purpose tonight.

Elder Sarah, the old woman of the woods, head of her coven, had said there was something she meant to show him.

They're alone, deep in the pines. A clearing, not far from the house, but there is no one here - none from the coven, none from the pack. Alone. There is a break between two mountains.

“Just around spring,” Sarah says, “when the sun rises, it comes right between those peaks there.” She tells David to look at them. To keep them in his mind. Then, she puts her hand over his eyes, and closes her own.

Sarah has taken David here before. To show him things. To teach him.

She can do as he does, after all. Conjure falsehoods into others’ minds. She’s just had a couple hundred years more practice.

For a moment, it's black. Just Sarah's hands over his eyes, her cool skin against his own. It starts like a whisper in the back of his mind, a notion he knows is not his own worming its way into his thoughts, like water through stone. Just as he does, she is tying her knots in the string she will pull in his head. She is not of his pack - not of his blood - and he feels his teeth sharpen, be he holds himself back, still.

Then, between the cracks of her fingers, he sees a light.

Almost immediately he tries to pull away, a century of painful lessons driving him to run and hide. David has felt it before, in short moments - early on, out of ignorance, later, out of cruelty, and later still, by his own choice though that was only for a few seconds.

But he’s always retreated. His bane, a bane all their kind shared but for him was torturous, skittering back like the beast he is under the eye of the heavens.

But Sarah's hands are iron, and hold him in place. Wrapping around his wrists, his chest. She may look like a woman three times his age, not much taller than him and frailer than a young, strong boy, but her will is as the bases of the mountains themselves; utterly immovable.

"You're safe, David. It's okay. Just look."

Her hand falls away.

Gold.

Gold, like the warmest flames of a fire, but with a strength of pure light behind it that feels like it's spearing him in place.

Between the peaks of the mountains, shining like it's been there all the while and casting the world into color the likes of which David can barely recall, it rises. The pine woods are emerald and chartreuse, the blue-white mountain tops of snow and rock glimmer as they're haloed by it.

David cannot look away. Something wet trails down his cheek, and he finds he is grateful for Sarah's arms around him.

The sun shines down on him, and he feels warm.

In moments where all his other tricks hasn’t worked - when a fight goes bad, and those he’s fighting against don’t respond to the illusion of ants and worms eating into their skin, or swarms of dark, humming wasps clouding out the world around them - David has resorted to this. Setting upon another vampire the feeling of heat and light that would spell death for all their kind. It has always worked.

But now, here, he feels the sun on his skin without pain. He can see it in the sky.

As if he were human again, for a moment.

Almost too much. It’s a surprise, and he also knows that as great as Sarah’s power is, just like him, there is always a limit, and a cost. He isn't sure, exactly, when his legs give out, but when they do, she is there to catch him. She follows him to the ground.

All at once, the strings in his head are gone. Not withdrawn, but snipped. The sky is black, lit by a thousand stars - a billion suns a billion years away. They're back in the dark of the nighttime forest.

He can hear his own hitching breathing and feel the wet tracks of tears on his face, but it's far away, somehow disconnected from him.

Sarah gently runs a hand through his hair. "There there, it's okay sweetheart. You're alright."

"Thank you." David chokes out. Sarah just smiles.

"It's a bad habit of mine, my mother used to say. That I did for others what I couldn't do for myself."

David glances at her. Her own eyes are distant, looking at the far mountains.

...Right. The other side of all this - their illusions were convincing, real to anyone they inflicted them upon from a handful of squirming maggots to conjuring a phantom sunrise…but not for those who made them.

Sarah could not see her own sun.

In her smile, her teeth flash in the light of the moon, glittering in rainbow shine.

David wonders how long it’s been since she’s seen that sun.

"...Maybe someday I will," he says. "For you."

If he lives that long.

She tilts her head at him, smile small, but still in place. "Maybe."

#the lost boys #drabbles #david tlb #ocs #yccm

[briarsheart]

Exile

Steve Harrington x reader x Eddie Munson

based on the song by Taylor Swift (this is seriously one of my favorite songs by her. like ever.) sorry if this is absolutely awful, I'm a lot better at writing longer stories and I suck at one-shots. but lmk what you guys think!!!

content warnings: none, just lots and lots of angst and heartbreak.

requested: no

'I can see you standing, honey

with his arms around your body'

Steve Harrington was no stranger to heartbreak. On that fateful Halloween night in 1984 when Nancy Wheeler shattered in heart on the floor of Tinas bathroom. Nothing in his life, up until that point or after, had ever cut just as deeply as she did. Not even the inter-dimensional monsters set out to end his life. Even now, even after having thoroughly moved on, he could still feel the dull throb in his heart when he saw her in the arms of Jonathan Byers.

But something good had come from having his heart ripped so brutally from his chest cavity. Nothing would ever come close to causing that much pain again. Surely, a broken heart can't break twice.

As he pulled into the parking lot of Hawkins High, that proved true.

Until his eyes landed on you.

A large smile stretched wide across your features. Eyes crinkling in pure joy as you practically skipped out of the side doors of the building. Laughing at something Eddie Munson had said. The Metalhead's arm wound across your waist as he pressed a long kiss to the crown of your head.

Steve knew that you'd sometimes sit in on Hellfires campaigns. Less than a week ago he'd been picking up Dustin and you, but now only the fourteen year old came barreling towards his vehicle. Dustins wide smile dropping at the look of utter pain on his friends face.

Steve had seen this film before.

The girl he loves in the arms of a man who, undoubtedly, wasn't him.

He was wrong. A broken heart can break more than once.

'I can see you starring, honey

like he's just your understudy'

You laughed as Eddie fumbled with his car keys, struggling to unlock his van.

"M'lady." Eddie swept his hand out, gesturing to the passenger door he held open for you. A wide teasing smile spread across his features, the sight causing butterflies to swirl in your abdomen.

You never thought that someone like Eddie 'The Freak' Munson would be the one to cause a blush to paint your cheeks, but there you were. Smiling and blushing like an idiot in love, even after having your heart crushed in the hands of Steve Harrington just days earlier. The thought of your ex-boyfriend had your mind swirling back to the curly headed teen who you usually found forcing his way into the backseat of Eddies van after a campaign.

"Wait, where's dustin?"

"oh," Eddie nodded towards the other side of the parking lot where the teen was climbing into another car. Steves car. "Harrington picked him up today."

when your eyes met the heartbroken brown ones behind the wheel of the red BMW, you felt your stomach drop. The butterflies Eddie had caused dying instantly. Dropping like flies and resurrecting into wasps, swirling up a storm of nausea that clawed at your throat.

Steve's eyes flicked from you to Eddie, a fierce protective fire glimmering in his eyes. Like he'd get his hands bloody for you.

In a moments lapse of judgement, you thought about dropping everything and running to him. Apologizing and taking back every word you'd said on that dreaded night in his car parked outside of your house. Doing it all just to heal the brokenness shinning in his eyes. Just to feel his arms wrapped around your body.

You had to remind yourself of the truth: you'd always walked a very thin line.

'cause you never gave a warning sign

(I gave so many signs)'

One week earlier...

"you're not listening to me, Steve!"

"I am, (y/n)!" a frustrated sigh left Steves lips, hands running through his hair as he met your defeated gaze with one of his own. "I-I am, okay?"

your lip pulled between your teeth, on the verge of bleeding with how hard you were chewing on it. Trying to bite back the awful words that wished to spill past your lips. To bite back the tears that wished to pool past your eyelashes. "Than tell me Steve, if you're listening, then what did I just say."

"You're upset because I have work the day of your gig-"

"I can't dp this anymore." the words spilled past your lips before you could stop them. Cutting off Steve all together and making him go speechless. Mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water as he stared at you, as if this hadn't been slowly coming on for months now. Building and building. Like pressure against a damn until finally it just... snapped.

"wha-...what?"

the heartbreak in his eyes almost made you want to take it all back, but you'd seen this film before.

"It's not about you missing this gig Steve." you sighed, utterly fed up and exhausted. "It's about the one before this one and the one before that and every single one that you've missed. I told you about this months ago, I told you how important it is to me that you're there, and you told me you would be."

"Kieth wouldn't give me the day off-"

"But he'll give you the day off to go to the basketball game?" Steve fell silent, only causing anger to fester in your gut. "Or to go to that stupid party last week?"

"(y/n/n)-"

"don't." you shook your head, tears welling in your eyes as you opened the door to his car. "just... don't Steve."

"Wait, (y/n)-"

"This isn't working anymore, Steve!" you shouted, snapping just like the damn. "...we don't work. I mean, you clearly don't care as much as I thought you did and... and I can't-I won't keep going back and forth with you like this. We can't turn things around."

'I think I've seen this film before

so I'm leaving out the side door'

"(y/n/n)? Hey, you okay?" Eddies voice brought you back from the memory, his gaze flicking between you and Steve.

"Sorry." You shook your head, finally breaking the eye contact between you and your ex as you climbed into Eddies van. "So, where are we off to? yours or mine?"

'you were my town

now I'm in exile seeing you out'

#exile #Taylor swift #steve harrington #Eddie munson #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington one shot #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things #eddie munson x oc #eddie munson x reader #exile seeing you out #taylor swift folklore #folklore #one shot #angst #heartbreak

[xxinksxx]

So I just had another epic battle with nature's version of Fuck You (a.k.a. a wasp) which had gotten into the house. I heard a random buzzing, and thought it was coming from out side, but then I decided to glance over and laid eyes on one of the universe's most evil creatures trying to break the glass so it could let all it's minions in and take over our living space.

I decided I had to quickly put an end to this before it began and crawled across the living room floor boot camp style to retrieve my weapon. Last time I tried battling one of these things with just my majestic face. Last time I failed. I wouldn't make that mistake again. Grabbing a can of icy hot (for it was metal and good for smashing like the Hulk) I ninja'd into the kitchen to face my foe. It had yet to spot me as I inched closer, but I could no longer hear it buzzing.

Half crawling onto the counter like a cat stalking it's pray, I had to sit/lay at an odd angle were I could see through the bottom of the blinds, to see if I could find this diabolical flying menace's hiding spot. And there I saw it. Resting at the top of the window, protected by the bar that held up these sun shields put in place to keep my almost vampiric red-headed, white-ass from becoming the worlds largest piece of bacon. I knew instantly I was working with a criminal master mind. Cans can't smash through bars, and if I tried pinching it between the blinds, it would escape and possibly take me down in my moment of confusion and chaotic shrill screams.

Clever, clever girl.

It was then the wasp spotted me hiding in the shadows and lunged for me. But this time, I saw it coming. This time I'm prepared. I used my can of icy hot to smash at the blinds to squish the creature of hate against the dirty glass, but the bastard was too quick and escaped my clutches, gaining access to the free air.

SHIT I MISSED. I MISSED. ABORT MISSION ABORT MISSION. EVERY MAN FOR HIMSELF. CHILDREN AND YELLOW BELLIES FIRST.

Now it was at this point I probably made some rather undignified noises as I ninja flipped off the counter and took out a few kitchen chairs in the process, but being at home alone means my animals are the only ones that heard me and therefore it didn't happen. I'll just have to pretend that vase never existed and place it in the bottom of the trash can before burying it under some trash bags. Nope this incident never happened. What antique vase that's been in the family for years? Idk what you're talking about man.

Regaining my senses, I listened closely for the sound of a dive-bombing wasp to start his attacks on me because at this point I've pissed it off and it knows I'm here. There isn't going to be much time for me left in this world because wasps know where your weak points are and they know how to smack them with their venom daggers. (Everywhere. Your weak spots are everywhere. They're fucking wasps. They eat children for breakfast and make nests out of their bones to hatch babies of their own in so they can feed them the young of other creatures. They're fucking evil. They exist in this world to spread fear and buzz with hate and kill everything in sight.) But lo what's this? I can't hear it buzzing. It's gone in stealth mode and it's going to attack me from above like every action movie ever because no body ever looks up.

I search the ceiling? Nothing. I look at my surroundings? Nothing. And then I hear it again. The diabolical buzzing from inside the window. IT FLEW BACK INSIDE?!?! WHAT GLORIOUS GIFT FROM THE GODS IS THIS SECOND CHANCE AT RETRIBUTION? I stalk up on the window again, remaining as stealthy as the Beverly Hill's Ninja, and get my can of icy hot at the ready. But once again it has gone into stealth mode or has gained the powers of invisibility because I cannot see it.

Putting my life in peril, I twist the blinds so that they crack open just enough for me to see inside. I have to find this hateful beast. I have to end it's reign of terror. Then I hear it.

*buzz buzz mother fucker*

I see it in the lower corner of the window and my reflexes kick in, smashing at it instantly, trying not to take out another flower pot in the process. The wasp falls to the window sill injured, but not dead. I smashed the can into it again. Still not dead. Again. No go. Again. Again. Again. AGAIN AGAINAGAINAGAIN. WHY WON'T IT DIE?! I wonder briefly until I realize the size of the can is just a tad bit to big to fit into the space. So grabbing something smaller, I smash it repeatedly until it no longer moves and once again win the epic wasp battles.

This battle may have been won, but there's still a war going on. But I'm finally catching up.

Win: |||

Losses: |||

#wasps #natures fuck you #inks rambles #epic stories

[wellthebardsdead]

The mourned & the healing pt2

Part 1 here

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Nerevar: *driving the silt strider across the marshy plains of dashaan towards the swampy territory of house dres, several redoran guards following behind in other striders* …

Riiju-Lei: *walks to his side and gently places his hand on his shoulder* You’re mad at me…

Nerevar: I’m not mad I’m just… I’m afraid, LeiLei… The argonians native to this land are not like your mother, they are not open to reason…

Riiju-Lei: they will be… *looks up before ducking behind him in fear as a gigantic wasp creature zooms by* what the fuck was that?!

Nerevar: a parrapton. Of all the creatures to survive the blast of red mountain they just had to survive… nasty creatures, they’re domesticated and used as mounts by house dres… *looks ahead to see the destroyed rice fields eerily devoid of life…* we dismount here… Kaidan hold onto your stomach. *taps the strider making it lower down*

Kaidan: *face green, clinging to the side of the strider for dear life as Taliesin strokes his hair* I’m trying-

Riiju-Lei: *third eye scanning the space before him, seeing hundreds of argonians hiding in plain sight, cleverly camouflaged in the swamp* Everyone stay here. I’ll go in alo-

Nerevar: no you absolutely will not. I’m not letting you go in there unguarded.

Riiju-lei: and if I approach with a guard they will see me as a threat. At least as a target I have a chance to talk.

Nerevar: LeiLei…

Riiju-Lei: *gently takes his hands* please… trust me…

Nerevar: …Okay… I will…

Riiju-Lei: thank you… *removes his cloak revealing simple farmers attire beneath it, contrasting greatly against his golden skin and regal face markings, a bold move to show before speaking that he’s of a high status but willing to work hard* If things turn south. I promise I’ll be okay… *hands him the cloak and walks into the farm land, eyes seeing the energy of the argonians in hiding, all eyes watching him, all heads turning to follow him as he picks up a backpack like basket of rice grass and slings it onto his back* … *looks around counting how many he can see as he picks up a rake and walks to the first pool of water, tossing the rice in perfectly each time, grass always up, roots in the water*

Nerevar: *watching nervously from the distance, resisting every urge to reach for his sword as he sees an argonian emerge from the water behind him, spear drawn and ready to attack if given a reason*

Riiju-Lei: *ear twitching hearing water shifting, turns around and catches the argonian creeping towards him* Hello.

The argonian: *feathers hackling up and posture shifting as they point their spear towards him, snarling out an insult in dunmeri argonian* slaver! Vile- ash? Skin?… *looks the chimer up and down in confusion at his golden skin*

Riiju-Lei: *responding in dunmeri argonian perfectly* I used to be a dunmer. Now I’m a chimer again. Please, I’m not here to hurt anyone or drive you away. *blinks all three eyes knowing the argonian is staring at his third one*

Another argonian: *emerges from the water hissing at him, tail docked and an iron loop through the remaining stub* We do not believe you, you will have us all in chains once mor-

Riiju-Lei: They… your tail… it looks like what they did to my mothers they… *looks to the middle of the rice fields to see mostly destroyed large posts, some with chains still in tact to bind them to each station* I could never imagine how cruel it’d really look… my ma always described it to me but… *shudders and goes still feeling another spear to his back*

Argonian: you lie, you’re lying! You’re trying to trick us!

Riiju-Lei: I’m not. I was born by a slave who attempted to set your ancestors free following lord nerevars lead when he was the nerevarine… when the revolt happened I was birthed on the streets, my birth mother was too weak to survive and passed away. The argonian who found me, my mother, she was one of many who first lead the revolt. Her name was Skalei-Jei. She named me Riiju-Lei. A name I still hold even now as head of house dagoth.

The argonians: *back up in fright at his title, knowing full well the stories of dagoth ur and his powers*

Riiju-Lei: *looks back and around him to see himself surrounded* I know you’re all angry. And you’re justified in your anger. But these lands belong to me now. Not house dres. Their house has fallen, no longer will their chains threaten to bind any of you. *looks around to see many of them hurt or visibly sickly* I want nothing of you except peace. I am not a man of violence, I’m a healer. I may be born of the ash but I was raised as one of you, you may see me as your enemy but I look upon you as my egg siblings. Please… let us just talk… let me know what you want, let me heal your hurt. Let the bloodshed end…

The argonians: *all look at one another then back at him before lowering their spears slowly*

Riiju-Lei: *smiles* thank you… *looks over to the silt striders to see everyone standing there in shock*

Nerevar: he… actually did it…

*a few days later*

Riiju-Lei: *smiles making a baby argonian laugh to calm them down after their first taste of hist sap* I know it tastes horrible doesn’t it? *hides his face behind his hands and peeps at them with his third eye making them stop crying to laugh again* hehe see it’s not that bad. *gently hands them back to their mother who gladly places them back in the sling with her other hatchlings*

Argonian mother: thank you my brother LeiLei. *bows with a smile as she walks out, waving her bandaged tail as she leaves*

Nerevar: *walks in and smiles seeing Riiju-Lei surrounded by paperwork & sap* I think it’s time you took a break to eat.

Riiju-Lei: *looks up at him and smiles* I can’t I have another group coming in 30 minutes to receive sap and- how are the lodgings going? I understand many of them wish for employment-

Nerevar: *waves his hand a little in a calming manner* Fine, it’s going fine dear. *gently takes his hand helping him up and smiling adoringly at him* Everything is going perfectly, please. Just a short break, you haven’t eaten all day.

Riiju-Lei: *smiles and sighs* I can’t say no to you~ okay. Just a short break.

Nerevar: *squeezes his hand slightly* Thank you, *walks with him from the hut to see the previously hostile argonians now helping the dunmer people rebuild, many of them gathered around a bonfire as they toss whips and the house dres banners into the flames* …I should have never of doubted you.

Riiju-Lei: *hugs his waist and rests his head on his shoulder* hmm, no, you were right to be doubtful, it could have gone very badly… you were right to worry. *smiles adoringly up at him* but it went well… and now, all we need to worry about is someone getting hurt in a construction accident.

Nerevar: *snickers* We’ve had many squashed thumbs today already.

Riiju-Lei: well it looks like I’ll be kept busy with healing duties then…

Nerevar: *squeezes his waist and rests his head against his* just don’t forget to rest…

Riiju-Lei: Me? Forget? and miss out on spending time with you? *smiles* never.

#riiju lei dragonborn #nerevar #indoril Nerevar #dunmer dragonborn #chimer dragonborn #skyrim #Kaidan skyrim #Taliesin skyrim