#red soldier beetle

[flowerishness]

Daucus carota (Queen Anne's lace) and Rhagonycha fulva (Red soldier beetle)

When I was recently down at the beach, I was specifically looking for a Western honey bee pollinating a invasive plant species. Yesterday, I posted an introduced Butterfly bush but I had lots of choices because the beachfront is full of invasive species. I took these photos of Queen Anne’s lace but when I looked at them later, I discovered another introduced species, the red soldier beetle. Both the plant and the beetle are European imports introduced in historical times and now found throughout North America. 

The Wikipedia entry on this beetle is hilarious. Not only is this species known as the ‘hogweed bonking beetle’ in Britain but it goes on to say; “The adults, which are active between the months of June and August, spend much of their short lives mating and can often be seen in pairs.” 

As you can see, I caught these two in the midst of an ‘amorous embrace’. I want to reassure you that I didn’t intend on an X-rated photograph but I’ll have to be more careful in future. Otherwise Tumblr may put a Parental Guidance warning on my blog.

[kiteknots]

Greenhead Moss Nature Reserve // Wishaw

[dansnaturepictures]

09/07/2023-RSPB Strumpshaw Fen

Pictures taken in this set: 1. A lovely Grey Heron, a key bird of the weekend trip. 2. The majestic Marsh Harrier we so enjoyed seeing from a hide, seeing others well on the walk round. They are such beautiful and striking birds, one I do really love seeing and I've had a fantastic year for them so far. 3. Follow the leader: Mute Swan cygnets. 4. Delicate meadowsweet and great willowherb. 5, 7, 8, 9 and 10. Views at this picturesque Fen reserve including of the expansive and lovely River Yare. 6. A Woodpigeon with a twig in its mouth on a gate which was a feel good and quirky image to take away from the day.

It really was a brilliant walk round this rich reserve, with seeing my first ever Norfolk Hawkers - exquisite emerald eyed dragonflies dashing around stream and vegetation - the key moments from the day. I feel so lucky we saw them. Brown Hawker, Black-tailed Skimmer, Emperor, possible Southern Hawker and Common Blue Damselfly, Banded Demoiselle and darter were other great dragon and damselflies to see. Comma, Red Admiral white butterflies including Small White and Green-veined White I believe, Large Skipper, Silver Y moth, Kestrel, Sedge Warbler, Jay, Swift, Common Tern, Great Crested Grebe and chicks which was good to see somewhere different to Lakeside, Little Grebe, Mallard and ducklings, Great White Egret a very key bird of the weekend away, ladybird, possible ladybird larva, Common Red Soldier beetle and a marvelous Muntjac Deer shuffling over the path right at the end - a magical and euphoric moment I love seeing them - were other highlights. Other key plants of the many seen on the walk were hemp agrimony, purple and yellow loosestrife, white clover, pineappleweed, heath-spotted orchid, self-heal, herb-Robert, red campion, marsh bedstraw, hedge woundwort, thistle, bird vetch, valerian and plantain.

[jonnysinsectcatalogue]

Common Red Soldier Beetle - Rhagonycha fulva

Standing guard over the thistles are valiant soldiers with an appetite for pests of plants and their flowers. All these mating pairs and hungry troops were found in the same year and location (but in different months) alongside other inhabitants of the thistle thickets including the Thistle Bud Weevil and Thistle Stem Gall Fly. After the latter 2 species placed their eggs on the thistle plant, their larvae get to work, but their small and soft bodies are no match for the strength of the Soldier Beetle’s mandibles. While small insects are the preferred prey item, there are instances where they’ve been recorded to try their luck with larger soft insects that feed on plants (such as Caterpillars) and bite them! Even the larvae are carnivorous and feed on ground-dwelling soft-bodied insects and snails which may also feed on plants (the former targeting plant roots). With their pest control prowess, they’re a valuable biological control in nature and in the garden. And where food is plentiful, you can be sure they’ll be back next year since after their short summer adulthood, the larvae take to the soil and subsequently overwinter. Why right now, the next generation of Red Soldier Beetle grows and awaits the warmer weather for successfully pupation.

Since they patrol around flowers I was curious about whether or not they pollinate and research shows that they can instead serve as pollinators. Flight makes travel simple and since they hunt insects drawn to flowers, they would be very likely to make contact with the flower’s organs. Since they don’t have a layer of dense fuzz to carry pollen around with them, they probably have a pollination ability comparable to Butterflies. Amazing, a guard and pollinator; they really are handy for the garden. Though their pollination is beneficial, for Ontario’s sake it’s good that they don’t aid in seed dispersal as one of the plants they are known to pollinate is the Giant Hogweed (a large invasive plant similar to parsnip that SHOULD NOT be touched due to its light-activated toxic sap). I suppose these soldiers don’t choose the battlefield but make their contributions count, and that’s quite noble in the insect world, though I’m anthropomorphizing them a bit. To close this post off, pay close attention to the Beetles that you find like these. Seeing these pairs, the females are larger on average. As well, close examination will help distinguish these soldiers from a lookalike known as the Wharf Borer Beetle (Nacerdes melanura) which isn’t a Borer Beetle, but rather a False Blister Beetle. Researching between the two, I almost wish I found the lookalike instead to give the Red-Necked False Blister Beetle some company. Anyways, the lookalike has a different pronotum shield and leg color and are instead found near rotting wood.

Pictures were taken on July 8, 2022 with a Google Pixel 4.

[unkn0wnvariable]

Feeding Soldier Beetle

A common red soldier beetle feeding on fennel flowers, in Twywell Gullet.

[postmanpetecoluk]

Love bugs. Rhagonycha fulva: Common red soldier beetle by pete beard Via Flickr: The common red soldier beetle is also known as the 'bloodsucker' for its striking red appearance, but it is harmless. It is a beneficial garden insect as the adults eat aphids, and the larvae eat other pests.

[privitivium]

Hiiiiii so I'm obsessed with how you write! I was wondering if you could write a sanemi x m bottom reader with overstimulation kink and orgasm denial

sure pal. :3

domtop sanemi shinazugawa x subbot m reader

cw;; overstimulation?? Kinda. orgasm denial.,, anal fingering, toys, slapping, bad dom sanemi,… ahrmhem.. sadist sanemi, ahemrhrm

in the market, trying to find a stall that sells fruit, fresh fruit. he knows he can get someone to do this for him - buy his food and pet food, but it feels more meaningful to get it himself for his little rhinoceros beetle pal. he has to make sure its top quality, making sure there aren't any brown spots or wilting… humming with scrutiny as he studies an apple.. red.. sweet, perhaps? sweet.. his mind flashes to you. he'd call you, a sweet man, an idiot, a brat.. unknowing of how to deal with his feelings since you make him sick with butterflies.. why is he thinking about him??? hurry, sanemi, pick out some damn fruit…

you're a boisterous guy, you'd say,,, on par with rengoku kyojuro? no, you wouldn't go that far.. but, having unique quirks and a friendly, polite nature;; getting past someone's outer shell of anxiety and nervousness with ease, you'd call yourself a rowdy, energetic guy, not having the charm as others and wondering why exactly sanemi hates you so much if you were so similar to rengoku kyojuro whom he generally likes? you just wanna get along with everyone,, but you can't please everyone. or maybe you can? sanemi hasn't outright told you to fuck off every time you attempt conversation every so often… maybe this counts as being friends on sanemi's terms!

a mere outing as best companions and ubuyashiki's soldiers, wanting to try a new special at a restaurant you frequented with a friend because of course it tastes better with company.. it was a little hard convincing giyuu at first - but he relented, in the end.. obviously taken by your charm. obviously.

animatedly chatting with giyuu and sitting next to each other comfortably in your uniforms, the villagers didn't seem to care about your swords.. received little to no response as he was simply admiring the exterior of the restaurant, relaxing and hanging out.. you'd say this was great progress!! maybe you should invite him out more often? you sigh, relaxed and smiling, turning away and surveying the stalls and villagers before catching sight of white hair.. spiky white hair. of course, first thought is woah, wind pillar sighting?? but it could easily be a villager with spiky white hair… except it isn't -!!

waving merrily to the wind pillar after spotting him amongst the crowds, hand curled around giyuu's forearm to know that he's still there sitting next to you,,

he glares, eyes widened in a very creepy fashion, spotting your obnoxious arm-waving. a-and why is he walking toward you ?? towards you and that smug asshole… it was like his body was on autopilot - until he was standing over you, and you take a quick moment to assess him, noting that he wasn't wearing his usual KILL haori, but rather a plum colored haori… his uniform all the same, chest on display whilst holding a bag of fruit…

you don't comment on his appearance, and quickly greet the wind pillar politely;; “hey, man! what a surprise.. it's nice seeing you here!!” and, doing most of the talking.. explaining what giyuu and yourself were up to - merely hanging around the village as a little break, no missions.. then questioning him, “what are you up to? having a bit of fun around here yourself?" quite awkwardly,,

he promptly ignores and answers with a question of his own. “are you free?” quite.. mildly you'd say,, his tone, that is - “.. no, not at the moment.. but i will be, around sunset?” you narrow your eyes at the wind pillar, scrutinizing him. you just explained what you were doing, and he asks you if you are free…? b-but at the same time, hanging out with the wind pillar you were trying a bit too hard to be friends with??!?!! you decide not to question it.

and so he schedules a spar with you, gruffly.. ignoring giyuu's presence.. how rude, you thought, but it isn't like giyuu is making any move to greet the wind pillar… and when the time comes, after a wonderful time hanging out with giyuu - and managing a smile out of the stoic tomioka giyuu, you're trekking upwards to the wind estate, breathing in deeply and relaxing in the winds that brush against you as you hike up the steps, the sun just an hour away of setting..

receiving no nice greeting and getting straight to work. he was mostly silent, besides the rude quip of being lazy and not hurrying it up as you followed him throughout his estate to the training grounds of his - it was comfortably breezy.. maybe he wouldn't have a problem with you getting half naked to feel the breeze full-force… would that be unprofessional?? questioning sanemi if you could take your clothes off - catching him off guard it seems, but he relents mutely, allowing you to do such a thing, not once looking at you as you stretch, half-naked. hrmn.. this probably gives the other an advantage.. but this isn't serious sparring, is it..? uh.. you'll find out, soon enough.

he makes quick work of subduing you, having grown weak to his harsh hits - your wooden katana on the brink of snapping.. you let yourself fall underneath him, hand over your abdomen as you lay sprawled out; inhaling deeply and trying to control your breathing, unconcerned with the wind pillar standing over you, before taking a seat on you just below your belly. you stare at him, questioningly - never one to be so close to you, but sitting so close to your dick - it arouses a feeling that makes your dick twitch to life. ahem. you hope he doesn't feel it; but judging by the smug expression on his face, he does. you'd peg him to be disgusted by you.. not.. whatever he was now…

sanemi hums, tongue flicking out and running along his bottom lip - you have to look away, feigning tiredness as you lay your cheek against the rocks beneath you - surprisingly cool to the touch, comforting to your heated body… he shifts around, shuffling around before he was leaning over you and guiding your jaw upright to face him - shivering ever so slightly. aha.. god this is not going the way you'd expect. you wanted to have a good time sparring and trying to get to know him, but he wasn't giving you anything to work with.. oh, besides that thing. in his hand. that he pulled out of his pants. uh..

“wanna guess what this is?” he grinned, maliciously it feels like. but that's how he always smiles, no? “uh.. no.. what? what is that?” you squint, trying to get a closer look.. it was a simple ring of sorts… an odd, black trinket, certainly. too big to fit on a finger that is for certain. “ehh, it's pretty easy actually.. why don't you guess? come on, really try..” sanemi hummed, trailing his fingers down your abdomen briefly, fingertips lingering along your happy trail along your navel.. laughing shakily and shuddering under his touch.

he grits his teeth, before parting his lips and holding the ring in his mouth - moving upwards in a partial squat/standing position - undoing his beltㅡyour bulge quite visible. embarrassing. his actions arousing quite the surprising emotionsㅡand he snaps it once, a threat? before he was leaning down and flipping you on your stomach roughly - you yelp, bracing yourself as if to help yourself up before he was kneeling on your back, pressing you into the rocks and tugging your arms back - spluttering in surprise and trying to get free as your boner was promptly being pressed into by the pesky fucking rocks - tying your wrists behind your back before flipping you back over and resuming in his position along your groin. fuck, the small rocks digging into your wrists. they were smooth, but still.. It hurts !

sanemi huffs, lifting his hand to his lips and taking the ring from his teeth - before slowly placing it atop your navel. “you're just... so damn ignorant... stupid little bastard... " he snapped at you, "you really know how to rile me up.. fucking fuck..” he hisses just under his breath as he begins making rough work of undoing your belt, you;; mewling softly in surprise and unable to keep still, writhing underneath him. too surprised, too shocked to speak as you merely stare wide-eyed at the wind pillar sitting over your groin,,- “you're not going to deny me this. i know all your dirty little fucking secrets… you have a little crush on me but you go out with giyuu like that? are you kidding?!” he growled akin to a dog, squatting over you and ripping your uniform pants downward, completely discarded;; your dick springing forward and accompanied by a pearl of pre, tip darkened in comparison due to the flush of arousal.. going to cover yourself, thighs trying to press together - and feeling your wrists press against the rocks underneath you, a reminder that your arms were restricted.. you can't imagine getting a cramp,,, and you feel as though you wouldn't be heard, asking sanemi to take you elsewhere…

“i- i'm sorry, man, jeez..” you try to pacify, try to get him to be a little more gentle.. by no means denying him - yeah, you did like where this was going, but it could be a little softer!!! sanemi ignores you, in his own world and trails his fingers over your abdomen - grasping your cock abruptly and you hiss in surprise, knees jerking,, slowly, the ring he had been flaunting, placed just around the neck of your cock. mewling softly at the stimulation,,

“damn, man.. don't you look pretty..”, a chuckle escaped sanemi's lips as he promptly admires your frame - leering. dripping with sweat and marked with grime here and there, raking his eyes down to your cock and thin happy trail… dick weeping with pre-cum as you babble incoherently, squirming underneath his slightly bigger build, an indescribable feeling - unlike anything you've ever felt before. a vibration along your genitals..,ㅡwhere could you get one of these, for your use?? it was only a matter of time before you were cumming on yourself and partially sanemi.. “you're such a fucking brat. you know that? i-i just can't stress that enough. i thought it was clear that you're mine..” his lips hike up into a mean snarl,, hands gripping the inner of your thighs and sure to leave hand marks, before he was shifting positions in between your bare legs, head tipping downward and breath ghosting over your leaky tip,,

your legs jerk, not exactly trying to shake him off, as a nervous tic.. threatening to close around sanemi's head.. “d-ude no.. no you weren't clear at all..” you manage to choke out, “if i woulda’ known.. i swear..!!” you cry out, hoping that he understands what you're trying to say, pathetically. hoping that he relents and takes fucking pity on you for one secondㅡthe feeling of your lower intestines tightening, knotting as the dull sensation of the little ring continues - and you buck up into the air, tip smearing your slick along sanemi's cheek on accident but holy fuck his lips felt so goodㅡ

“don't do it.” he warns gruffly, and holy fuck he's so scary - staring at your vulnerable with his wide, blank eyes, looking like a shark peeking behind your cock,,; your writhing form beneath him with a vibrating mechanism around the neck of your cock - your hips jerk upwards, head thrown back and hole clenching around nothing repetitively.. vibrating mechanism slick with your cum dribbling from the slitㅡsanemi slaps your thigh harshly after your accident, giving no warningㅡyou shriek in pain, searing pain that makes you tear up,, hitting you along your inner thigh, so close to your upright cock.. so rudeㅡyou didn't mean to, holy fuck.. it just feels so good-!!! “m’ sorry.. m' sorry, i-i'm sorry..” you squirm helplessly, sobbing quietly, thighs tensing to squeeze together after feeling the a draft hit your hole:; your dick threatening to shrink if not for the uncomfortable buzz keeping it stiff and upright,, leaking, dripping down onto your pubes you try to keep trimmed - unable to keep still as you try to jerk your hips upwards,, trying to get the mechanism off. you never touched yourself after cumming - never cumming two times during a session of masturbation, griping to yourself about how it felt too much.. it was too much. it felt almost painful, but still, a considerable amount of pleasurableㅡmaking your legs twitch and hole tense around air continuouslyㅡ

sanemi grunts in displeasure and the vibrating little ring seems to slow down.. god it felt so fucking good just then as if you were about to cum again even with the overstimulation along your cock - and he just t-took it away,,, tears stream down to your ears;; shaking your head and parting your partially dry lips to apologize - “you fucking moron.. don't know when to fucking listen.” he snapped lowly before he was standing up and - his pants disappear. his dick… just a smidge bigger than yours… standing outright, and it seems that the carpet does match the drapes.. neatly trimmed. Ahemhrm.. he inches down, squatting - and using his pants as a cushion for his knees and bunching up your pants underneath your ass as a cushion for you… you revel in this moment of sweetness… biting your lip, swallowing the spit in your mouth, and blinking the tears away… unwilling to gaze at him,,. you fear though that will make you cum again,,, realistically, it wouldn't, but you’re still nervous,,,

sanemi swipes his thumb on his tip, thumb slick with his mess.. unable to contain himself after seeing you so pretty - circling it with his thumb slick with his pre, before switching fingers and pressing inward.. it was relatively easy… a little too easy… as if you were a little familiar with fingering yourself,,,, “huh.” he mutters, his dick aching to be properly touched as he fingers you lazily - you jerk, squeezing around him with a soft cry.. “hmm,..” he continues, as if skeptical, as he slowly scissors around, trying to find that magic mystical button to make you squirm again - and with ease, you begin to writhe, push into his hand.. “ah, there we go…” he nods, prideful as he begins rubbing, furiously against your prostate with the pad of his middle finger - hand snapping to grip your cock and thumb placed over the slit of your tip.. “a-uah,, sa-sanemi.. sa.. nemi-!” you weakly cry out his name. Over and over.. while clenching on his fingers and grinding downward into his touch.. he could get used to this.. maybe have you around his house as his little fuckdoll to stuff and toy with whenever he wanted.. ah, he reprimands himselfㅡyou're more than that to him.. his.. husband?.. his lover..? … his.

sanemi stretches, and scissors your hole dutifully - humming in contentment as he uses your cum to lather his cock,, the mere feeling of his fingertips grazing your dick almost.. almost.. makes you start back up again - crying out softly at his touch along your shaft.. before he inches forward, guiding his tip to your head before pushing inward, kindly being slow… the tip of his cock making it passed your previously stretched ring of muscle,,, you inhale shakily, bracing yourself yet trying to relax - sanemi, snapping his hips forward into you. piercing you, fucking filling you to the brim and making you choke on your spit - drool dribbling down your cheek and rendering you speechless - lips parted with glazed eyes..

“i'm gonna make you wish that you didn't cum..” gently, he trails the back of his hand over your cheek, wiping away your tears… uahgh… his hand gently wrapping around the base of your cock and slowly stroking it, as he slowly pushes inward until his pubes were buried in your perineum, filling your hole out nicely.. “... if you cum again… i'm gonna rip your dick off, alright?” sanemi hums affectionately, thumbing the slit of your cock as if plugging it up once more - you writhe, ultimately trying to relax; breathing heavily.. chest heaving up and down as you stare into the sky, the sunset overcoming the perfect blue with oranges and yellows - augh.. fuck..,, sanemi, gently fucking into you compared to when you first began, yet you can't cum? - tears welled up in your eyes, and you feel so honored despite the rule... this must mean you're friends now… o-or more, as sanemi alluded to.. what exactly did being sanemi's entail?... being lovers..? y-yeah, you'll go with that.. just.. don't.. think about … cumming all over his hand… all- all over his face.. D-DONT THINK-!

sorry for any mistakes ,,, :3

[dumbass-duo-showdown]

Ahem ahem

After months of waiting!

I AM PRESENTING THE BRACKET FOR DUMBASS DUO SHOWDOWN!

CLICK FOR BETTER QUALITY!

The first 16 battles will happen at 8pm CET (gmt+1)!

Group 1!

Uhh btw some of these were put on one day accidentally

Roronoa Zoro & Monkey D. Luffy aka Zolu (one piece) vs Good times with Scar & Grian aka desert duo (hermitcraft)

Bill Preston & Ted Logan (bill & Ted’s excellent adventure) vs Jessie & James from team rocket (Pokémon)

Wayne & Raj (total drama) vs Denji & Power (chainsaw man)

Burton & Shawn (psych) vs Rosencrantz & guildenstern (hamlet & rosencrantz and guildenstern are dead)

Josuke Higashikata & Okuyasu Nijimura aka Josuyasu (JoJo’s bizarre adventure) vs Shouyo Hinata & Tobio Kageyama (Haikyuu!)

Isaac & Miria (Baccano) vs Jay Walker & Cole Brookstone/bucket aka Bruise (lego ninjago)

Ace & Deuce (twisted wonderland) vs Aang & Sokka (avatar: the last airbender)

Tommyinnit & Tubbo aka Clingyduo (dsmp) vs Shiver, Frye, & Bigman aka Deep Cut (splatoon)

Blue Beetle (Ted Kord) & Booster Gold (Michael Carter) aka boostle VS Mustard Lesbian and Ketchup Gay from this post

Mordecai & Rigby (regular show) vs Lindsay & Tyler (total drama)

Rui Kamishiro & Tsukasa Tenma aka Ruikasa (project sekai) vs Zuke & Mayday aka Bunk Bed Junction (no straight roads)

Ruffnut & Tuffnut Thorston (how to train your dragon) vs Jedediah & Octavius (night at the museum)

Merry & Pippin (lord of the rings) vs The Doctor & Donna (dr who)

Jedward (irish music history) vs Min-Gi Park & Ryan Akagi (infinity train)

Grif & Simmons (red vs blue) vs Beavis & Butthead (Beavis & butthead)

Bender & Fry (futurama) vs Porsche & Pete (kinnporsche)

GROUP 2

1/8-18:30 & 2/8 18:30

Kaz & Oliver (mighty med) vs Bobbi Morse & Lance Hunter aka Huntingbird (agents of S.H.I.E.L.D)

Henchman 21 & Henchman 24 (venture bros) vs Spongebob & Patrick (Spongebob Squarepants)

Galo Thymos & Lio Fotia (promare) vs Yusuke & Kuwabara (Yu Yu Hakusho)

Charlie Kelly & Mac (it is always sunny in Philadelphia) vs Donald, José & Panchito (the three Caballeros)

The Bros (the bro duet) vs Chai & 808 (hi-fi rush)

Markiplier & CrankGameplays aka Unus Annus vs Knockout & Starscream (transformers)

Caspar & Shez (fire emblem warriors: three hopes) vs Yukiko Amagi & Chie Satonaka aka Yukichie (persona 4)

Tk Strand & Evan Buck Buckley (911 on fox lonestar) vs Shane & Ryan (buzzfeed unsolved)

Ontario Pipping Plovers (birbs from canada) vs Kaminari Denki & Ashido Mina (My hero academia)

Rin Okumura & Kuro (blue exorcist) vs Adam Blampied & Sullivan Beau Brown (No barrels rolled)

Chip & Gillion aka Fish and Chips (just roll with it) vs Josuke Higashikata & Yasuho Hirose aka Yasugap (jojo's bizarre adventure)

Soldier & Demoman (team fortress 2) vs Cuphead & Mugman (the cuphead show)

Nott/Veth & Jester (critical role the mighty nein) vs Troy & Abed (community)

Walter White & Jessie Pinkman (breaking bad) vs Barbie & Ken (barbie life in a dreamhouse)

Cuddles & Toothy (happy tree friends) vs Heath Burns & Hoodude Voodoo (monster high)

Pete Wentz and Gabe Saporta (bandom) vs Wei Wuxian, Jiang Cheng & Nie Huaisang (MDZS/the untamed)

TAGS TO CHECK OUT!

#propaganda #dumbass duo showdown announcements #dumbass duo showdown update #round 1 #art gallery #polls

[2frosty4you]

mercs with an s/o who’s super considerate with the lives of animals, even insects! but on the battle field they’re like a murder machine? (GN reader)

Mercs with a reader who's kind to animals but a murder machine [Hcs]

| Mercs x GN!reader | 944 words | Masterlist | Ask/Request-box |

╔═════════════════╗

Scout:

Scout watches you take out bugs from the base constantly, be it crickets or beetles they are not dying in your presence. 

You save scout from all the bugs that appear in his room from all the food he eats in his room.

But when your foot merely touches the battlefield? That good personality is thrown out the window and replaced with a bloodthirsty maniac.

Your weapons are more explosive than scouts, think demoman’s weapons.

And you just charge into the enemy crowd, you only will be stopped in your death.

Cue the 60/4 kill to death ratio you have and wave off when scout's jaw is touching the floor in shock.

He rather the more ‘kind’ version of you, at least with him.

Soldier:

Soldier is some of the same, but only to his raccoons

And you are also very soft and cuddly with his raccoons

“What animals do you like?” “My raccoons” “Soldier’s Raccoons”

Soldier and you are a force to be reckoned with.

He doesn't care what weapons you have because you both are going to paint the walls and floor red

You stop to show him a butterfly of American colours and he screams an American chant and runs into the group of enemies with his shovel high. 

He loves you even more when you offer him the head of the enemy soldier with a grin.

Pyro: 

You and Pyro both love all the insects and animals around the base, saving small ladybirds from soldier and saving scout from grasshoppers.

Pyrovision makes it so they don’t see all the gore and death you do

Pyro just skips along with their flamethrower and giggling to themselves as you scream while running into the enemy base.

You come out covered in blood with a badge you stole from a dead body and you clip it to pyro’s suspender.

To them you are just pink, with candy stuck to your side and your hair curled and turned a soft pastel pink.

Yeah, they like how you look after battles.

Engineer: 

He finds it adorable as you show him the small cricket you found in his workshop.

He’s made you a little enclosure for a lizard you found in the base, helping you clean it and care for the large enclosure.

On the battlefield when you skip back to him with a beetle you found to show him.

Then you crack open a spy’s skull as soon as you hear the de-cloak noise.

You stick around his building for a bit, scaring off the Frenchman and engie gives you a kiss before you scamper off to beat men to death.

Heavy:

Heavy is scared mostly, but also proud.

He finds it sweet how you care for all the random animals you come across, even holding up a cat you found (he does not know how you even found it)

You guys now own a very fluffy cat.

Then when his eyes meet yours on the battlefield you are bashing a medic’s head open with your melee weapon, his blood covering your front side.

Its nice knowing you can take care of yourself, but also that you aren't yearning to bash skulls in all the time.

Demoman:

Drunk out of his mind when you place a dog onto his lap

You smile and pat it as the small German shepherd barks and makes demo almost fall off his chair.

He’s gotten used to your kind nature off the battlefield, taking animals to safe spots outside the base and somehow finding a dog which was abandoned.

Demo stays out of your way during battles, as you grasp onto the face of a scout and bash it into the wall. 

He gives you a thumbs up and drinks from his scrumpy bottle. 

He loves you murder machine or not. 

Medic:

He’s proud seeing you go apeshit on the battlefield 

Tries not to mention all his baboon experiments to you, and laughs when you just grab Archimedes like a burger and the bird is just cooing happily.

You protect him during battles, no questions asked.

Heavy might be the brute force and a meat shield but you kill the spies and scouts trying to ambush him.

Hearts in his eyes when you appear covered in blood asking kindly for heals.

He pockets you a lot, you and heavy are the two he sticks to in battle,

Spy:

He’s got photos on photos of animals you've found.

Is happy knowing you can hold your own on the battlefield, but also when you saved him from the enemy soldiers, he thanks you quickly and runs off.

He loves you, but finds your methods of fighting…. barbaric. 

Spy does appreciate how you just pick up the bugs in his smoking room and race to show pyro.

Knows you can take care of yourself but sometimes he stands in your shadow and watches as you pull the heads off the soldier.

You have trinkets from the enemies you've killed and you offer them to him like a cat.

Sniper:

He takes you on camping trips, and the amount of animals you pick up and show to him is nice until he turns around to you holding a baby crocodile.

You love the birds he feeds around his camper-van and you baby the owl he cares for.

He watches you from the scope, and is grateful he isn't on the receiving end of your bullets and fists.

The way you run through enemies with medic healing you makes him just the tinge jealous.

You scare him sometimes.

The Australian knows you wouldn't hurt him but seeing you with a knife scares him.

╚═════════════════╝

[blackswaneuroparedux]

I never realised before the loneliness and isolation of a commander at a time when such a momentous decision has to be taken, with the full knowledge that failure or success rests on his judgment alone.

- Lt.Gen. Walter Bedell Smith

General Dwight D. Eisenhower rose to that occasion with character and greatness when he made the fateful decision to launch D Day on 6 June 1944. But he couldn’t have done anything he planned without the support of his feared chief of staff, Brig. Gen. Walter Bedell Smith.

When Lt. Gen. Dwight D. Eisenhower became commander of ETOUSA (European Theater of Operations United States Army) in June 1942 and began assembling his staff in London, the man he requested as his chief of staff was Brig. Gen. Walter Bedell Smith, at the time the secretary of the War Department General Staff. But Eisenhower’s boss, Gen. George Marshall, balked. Smith had impressed Marshall with his ability to cut through red tape and perform necessary hatchet jobs – to get things done fast and well – and he didn’t want to let Smith go. But finally, on Aug. 5, Marshall relented. Smith arrived in London on Sept. 10. In his biography, Eisenhower: A Soldier’s Life, historian Carlo D’Este wrote, “Eisenhower once remarked that every commander needs a son of a bitch to protect him and that the stone-faced Bedell Smith was his.”

Gustave Flaubert wrote, “You can calculate the worth of a man by the number of his enemies.” By that measure alone, Smith was not just a good chief of staff – he was a great one. Most people who came in contact with Smith hated and feared him – and with good reason. Smart, loyal to his bosses, articulate, incisive, and an excellent administrator, “Beetle” Smith was also intolerant, brusque, profane, rude, and ruthless.

Smith was also famous for his quick temper. Whether the result of his personality, or pain from a duodenal ulcer that occasionally forced him to be hospitalized, its volatility caused some exasperated senior officers to violate military protocol, bypass the chief of staff, and meet directly with Eisenhower to request transfers. Tellingly, Eisenhower tolerated that breach.

The position of chief of staff is often thankless. But it’s necessary. As one of the members of Eisenhower’s staff, Air Marshal Sir James Robb, later wrote, “Ike always had to have . . . someone who’d do the dirty work for him. He always had to have someone else do the firing, or the reprimanding, or give any order which he knew people would find unpleasant.” That someone was Smith and, whether or not he actually enjoyed that duty, everyone acknowledged that he was damned good at it.

Eisenhower often entrusted Smith to represent him in high-level strategic meetings, which led some people to remark that the reason Eisenhower did so was that Smith had a better strategic mind than his boss. Eisenhower’s esteem of Smith ultimately became so great that he told Marshall that if anything happened to cause him to be unable to carry out his duties as head of SHAEF, Marshall should, “after [General Omar] Bradley, select Bedell to take my place.”

Expanding on Eisenhower’s orders to have an “allied” command, Smith freely, and with great effect, utilized the technique of layering the different sections. Thus if one section had a British commanding officer, his deputy was an American, and vice versa. Smith also was a master of promoting informal communication channels, and his relatively informal staff conferences freed Eisenhower to concentrate on the most important or critical command decisions. Though problems did occur, that Eisenhower’s staff worked as smoothly as it did was a testament to Smith’s success as chief of staff.

[azsazz]

Torrential

Knox x Reader

Summary: Anon Requests: “Hey I love your writing could you do a fic about Knox and his mate?” & “Knox supremacy” 

Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 4,362

Notes: This is quite a bit different than what I’ve written thus far, but I hope you enjoy anyway. I wanted to try to write a little something for Knox since he’d be the love interest if I ever wrote my own book so here we go, Knox girlies stand up 💙

_________________________________________

You tuck your dark robes tighter around yourself as you hurry along the unbeaten path. The heaviness is a comfort, thick and soft despite the thin metal links sewn between layers. Protection camouflaged by its emerald fabric, a disguise at night as much as it is a shield.

It isn’t cold, but the forest after the sun has dipped behind the ruddy red mountains is eerie. Your only company is the clicking of beetles, howls from packs of wolves in the distance, and the soul in the jar clutched tightly to your chest.

Your High Lord had demanded it of you, to slay the otherworldly creature roaming his lands and return its soul to the river to be washed back to where it had come from. Hel.

It had been one of the most terrifying things you’ve ever encountered. A perfect mix of a beast that stood three times larger than any male you’d ever met. Its pincers snapped loudly, echoing throughout the hilly lands of your home, and they were the size of your forearm. Its ivory talons dug up the soft ground as it growled and clawed at you in a warning.

Those very talons had shredded your side in a fateful swipe that you couldn’t dodge. The beast had stomped on the end of your cape and in your desperate attempt to outrun the creature the strings of your hood had tightened around your throat, yanking you off of your feet. All of your breath had escaped your lungs.

Through the stars in your vision and the pain in your side, you’d managed to dodge the pincers on their swipe downward, ready to stab through you and wave your limp body around like a trophy. They’d lodged into the dirt as you rolled away, and it had given you just enough time to stab your knife into the underside of its jaw and through its skull, effectively slaying the beast.

The long jagged claw marks carving open your side had hurt, but your advanced healing combined with the enchantment from the High Lord hadn’t taken long for your skin to stitch itself up, leaving an irritated pink scar in its wake.

The Night Court isn’t a place you find yourself visiting frequently, but the instruction from your High Lord had been to dispose of the creature's soul in another territory, and you weren’t one to argue. As his hand, you’d do anything that he asks, even if it means completing a job that you’d graduated from working every once in a while.

The soldiers originally sent after the beast were no match for its large but nimble body and quick reflexes. You’d seen off a group of five men and only two had returned, one with talon marks that nearly carved his face in two, an eye missing, and a broken jaw hanging agape. The other soldier had fared better, though the way that he was limping and the trail of blood that followed told you that he’d probably been grabbed by the creature’s pincers.

The High Lord had executed them without a second thought and sent you in their place.

A branch snaps beneath your foot and you cringe, stilling your body. If a member of the Night Court catches you in their land – returning a soul no less – you’d be tried for your crimes in front of the High Lord and his family. You’d heard that in the years since his children had grown, they’d adopted positions within his court as spymasters, warriors, lords and ladies of court territories and the sub-courts they ruled over. One child had even been ordered as keeper of the river, arguably one of the most taxing roles in the court.

The river – aptly named Psychē, for the souls it houses, is a direct line to Hel. Rumor has it there are four hidden waterways throughout the continent, though this is the only known. The remaining three have not yet been discovered, or if they have their founders kept that information close.

You hardly know how it works. Your High Lord had told you nothing of the intricacies of returning a soul to the underworld. He’d sent you off with a knowing look, that you would do well by his name and come back unscathed. The charmed pendant on a silver chain he’d wrapped around your throat was for protection, should you need it.

Your instructions included capturing the beast's soul before it escaped into the night sky, trekking into the eerie lands of the Night Court, and disposing of the soul without getting caught by the riverkeeper.

If you got caught, you’d surely be dead.

You stiffen as the sound of the breaking branch ricochets through the lush forest. Your hand tightens around the jar nestled to your chest and your heart skips. You keep your breathing soft and calm, listening for any signs that you’re no longer alone.

It’s nearly too dark to see. Your only light is the bright stars guiding you to your destination. You’ll know you’ve reached Psychē once you stand directly beneath the Alizer star. The High Lord’s instructions echo in your head.

He’d also mentioned the silvery glow the body of water would give off when you were near. A reflection of the moon and the withering souls reaching up for the sky. You’d heard that they’d make nearly any bargain to become one of the stars.

You knew better than to swear on the Psychē. It is your job for Mother’s sake. Capture and kill those who have done wrong by their bargains, by their court. Slay beasts and creatures alike. Trap those who do not belong to this realm and let the riverkeepers decide their fate.

The thought sends a shiver up your spine.

There’s a faint tap against your chest. The soul trapped in the container slams itself against the side, trying to shatter the glass to escape. It only bounces off of the magicked jar. You bite back a smirk, pulling it from between your robes and giving the crock a rough shake. The wisps of the once beast shatter inside and it begins to swirl around in a mass, trying to weave itself back into a semi-conscious state.

You snort at it, returning it between thick layers of mossy robes as you continue your journey.

The brush begins to thin and you gasp as you enter a clearing. In the center is an ethereal-looking river, just as it had been described to you.

The waterway opens into a pool of light, shining brightly against the thick trees. It looks like a body of liquid metal, like stars fallen to the continent and melted into something more, something that snatches your attention and makes you want to bathe in it. One side of the Psychē thins out into a trickle, and you wonder if you follow where it would take you. Hel perhaps. It must not be an easy trek to the underworld. The other end of the river tapers slightly, the water sweeping into the swirling pool of light.

The clearing looks as if it’s never been touched by anything in the time it’s been here before any fae or wild creatures were put on the continent. There are no tread marks in the grasses from passersby, no animals seeking out the river or its lush waters. Now that you’re paying attention to it, the clearing is silent, like you’ve stepped into a secret, or worse, a trap. No sound coming in and no sound leaving.

Stumbling forward on suddenly weak knees, the thought that your High Lord has sent you on a mission that you won’t be returning from crosses your mind. You take a steadying breath, shaking the silly thought away. No, he wouldn’t do that to you, you are his favorite and his hand for Mother’s sake. Of course, he would want his dearest pet back.

Quickly and quietly you kneel before the edge, peering into the sparkling abyss. Your robes sweep up on a phantom wind that makes your hand tighten around your jar protectively, the other sliding to your weapon at your waist. The fabric pools around you as you lower yourself to the ground, settling around you in dark waves.

The Phychē’s calming silver waters ripple with lost souls. Your breath hitches at the sight.

You don’t know if they’re on their way to or from Hel, if they’re sentenced to swimming this impassible boundary between the living and the dead, screeching and screaming to the Mother for mercy.

You think they might be praying to the wrong entity for help.

With one last cautionary glance, you settle. You untuck the container from your chest and place it between your knees, keeping a tight grip on it just in case the beast tries to break through it again.

You pull your large hood back, revealing your face to the river and the night sky.

Taking the jar back into your hands, you grip the lid with one and the body with the other, twisting the top a hair looser. You’re eager to get this mission over and return to your lands, to your palace, where the High Lord eagerly awaits your return.

A loud wail startles you and your head snaps to the darkened woods around you. Beaming light from the river washes the brush bright around you, but no glowing eyes are staring in your direction, no glint of fangs pulled back from snarling lips. There are no other sounds to lead you to believe that there’s someone out there watching you.

The screech grates down your spine like steel on steel, drawing your attention to the metallic waters before you. The soul's gray form swims beneath the surface of the water, treading against the magic with all of her might to stay in front of you.

It’s a soul that has made that sound, you realize, shuddering. She’s a tiny little thing, nearly half of the size of the other wisps of lives swirling around her. She calls up to you but you don’t understand what she’s saying. The language isn’t something you’ve ever heard.

Apparently, souls from all realms live within the Pyschē.

The curious part of you wants to reach in and grab her, pluck her out of the busy stream of souls and hear her pleas, let her loose upon the Night Court. It’s clear she wants to bargain, they all do, if the shouts and moans of the other churning spirits tell you anything. Promises that they’ll never be able to fulfill, in exchange for your help.

But the warrior in you knows better. Not to reach your hand into the silvery pool of light or to bargain with a soul. You don’t know where they’re from, who they’ve worked for, why they’re here. Though, if they’re in the river to Hel, you know it mustn’t be good.

The beast beats against the wall of the crock frantically as you lower it toward the glowing river. Your hands are ready to twist the lid off and spill its soul into the weeping waters.

The shadows of night fracture like cracking ice.

The air around you drops to sub-zero and you freeze, arms outstretched over the silky waters. You can see your warm breath mingling with the cool air and something tingling at the back of your neck. Your heart thunders in your chest.

Even the souls fall silent.

Like an ink droplet falling into the clear waters, the Psychē bleeds black. The center of it grows with a fountain of darkness, quickly spreading over the surface of the river. The onyx shadows swallow the light and the screeches of souls within grow louder, more frantic as they try to slide away from the entity that’s overtaking their path.

You tighten the lid of the jar, tucking it quickly beneath your robes as you fumble desperately for your weapon.

Fingers circling the hilt, you’re just about to pull it out from its holster when your muscles spasm to a halt, freezing in place. You wince, or, you would wince at the thing clawing your head inside out, stiffening your muscles against your will as it spears your mind. The power is strong, much too strong for you to break its hold, even with your years of practice.

It makes your throat bob and your chest hurt.

You can’t even blink, can’t scream as onyx talons split through your skull, searching, learning. It looks at all of the secrets in your head, even the ones you’ve thought you’d buried deep down inside your wounded soul.

A bead of sweat rolls down your cheek and you itch to swipe it away.

Shadows seep in from all around, slinking their way down trunks of trees and sliding through the tall grass like snakes. It’s so dark that you can hardly see, the moonlit pool offering no light with its inky covering. The seething darkness is unmistakable, as the shadows gather and curl in the center of the smoky river that once was, brushing away to reveal a male you’ve only heard of from horror stories.

The riverkeeper.

The sight of him is terrifying in itself. Your chest hurts from how hard your heart is pounding. You can’t even blink or huff out a breath to dispel his dark shadows around you. There’s no air in your lungs to scream or room in them to gulp down the death-coated air. You are completely under his lock.

The passing tales you’ve been taught spin in your head. Those of a youthful male, the youngest of the shadowsinger of the Night Court, a starless entity much stronger than any living creature in Prythian.

Death incarnate. 

And it is your judgment day.

Some have said that he deserves to live in the deepest depths of the Prison. Others rally for a public death of Hel’s keeper, the population terrified of his abilities. He lives in all darkness and is made from it.

Most of what you know about him is lore. You’d heard of powerful beings but none with magic quite like this. How he’s able to manipulate the night into your deepest fears. A child’s trick for him. You’ve been told that nothing and no one has heard the crow of his call, his true voice, for the day that if you do, it will be the last thing you ever hear, his baritone tone projecting into your head like the sweet call of death, unable to resist its song. His face will be the last thing you ever see.

The hiss is caught in your throat as you struggle futility against his mental holds. It’s pointless, you know, but you try to escape the iron grip he has on your mind anyway.

They’d told you of the monsters roaming in the shadows, but never the ones made from them. 

Nevertheless, as the tall male shrouded over you pulls his dark hood back, you’ve frozen again of your own accord, but still his doing. 

You didn’t expect the monster to be so…handsome.

Silky black hair sweeps across his brow on the wind his shadows create. They twirl around him like bloodthirsty snakes, eager to reach out and constrict your body and drag you into the river of souls before you. His thick brows are curved downward over narrowed golden eyes that are the only light source in the clearing. His angular features are set into an impassive glare, staring directly into your soul.

His stalk looks more like a glide, like he’s an ethereal being all of his own. He is, when you catch sight of his large wings poised tightly to his back, talons sharp like the tip of a sword. They’re just as dark, silky smooth skin absorbing the night.

He is the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen.

He forces a patch of shadows to disperse and you squint against the sudden light of the glowing pool he’s opened up. Whatever he’s doing, it doesn’t look good, and your heart pounds loudly in your chest. 

Instead of pulling you into the Psychē like you thought he might do, a tendril of darkness dips into the light. It’s exquisite, the black against the white waters and you’re mesmerized, staring on with awe.

Until his shadow plucks up a soul.

The contour of black carries the soul to him where it settles by his side, a pet delivering its toy to its master. The soul in its icy death grip shouts vulgarly as it struggles desperately in the shadows' grasp.

With a sweep of the riverkeeper's hand, the soul goes limp, glowing eyes fogging over with an unfocused look. It stares directly at you.

Your spine tingles as his shadowy purr settles into your bones.

“Are you on your knees because you knew you’d be begging for my mercy?”

Your brows itch, aching to pull into a furrow. The voice isn’t coming from the riverkeeper, instead, it comes from the soul clutched in the grasp of his shadow. He mustn’t be able to speak or doesn’t want you to hear his true voice.

If it does incite your last moments alive, you’re thankful.

His words are amused but his tone is deathly serious as it fills the clearing with a powerful boom as if he’s unaware of how loud he’s being. There is no mirth to his features to let you know that he means anything other than business.

He is the riverkeeper, after all.

You choke on a breath as he releases his hold on your mouth. The rest of your body stays still as stone beneath his strong power.

“You,” you choke on the word. Your surprise is clear, as is the shake of your voice.

His golden eyes gleam.

“Me.”

His voice is its own whisper of death, even though it isn’t even coming from him but from the soul beside him. It’s rough like the shadows twirling around him like guard dogs. One circles closer to you, swimming in front of your face as if interested, so you do the only thing that you can do with your unrestrained mouth; curse and blow at it like a child.

He cocks his head slightly, intrigued by your response.

“What are you doing at my river, sweet creature?”

Your mouth pulls into a frown at the name.

“Don’t call me that,” you grit and his gaze flickers brighter. His hold on you turns near painful, your spine popping as he forces it to straighten. A warning to you, knowing that he can tear you apart at any given moment.

“What shall I call you then?” He’ll give you this mercy, so you better answer.

“(Y/N),” you choke, gasping a heaving breath once he relaxes his hold and lets you settle back into the earthy ground. You glare at him with all of your might but it doesn’t seem to affect the male.

“(Y/N),” the soul purrs. You know that it isn’t his voice but it sends shivers up your spine nonetheless.

“You have a name, don’t you?” you question.

“We all have names,” he answers bluntly.

You bite back a curse. “What’s yours?”

His wings twitch at his back and his shadows crackle, scattering around the clearing. They look like they’re hissing but you don’t know for sure. Apparently, he doesn’t get questioned much.

“My name need not be known by murderous, sweet creatures,” he answers, voice like cold death. There’s that word again. Sweet. No one’s ever called you that before.

It makes something in your chest flutter.

The glass crock tucked against your side pings as the creature’s soul makes another attempt to escape, uncaring of the literal devil you’re staring down.

His dark brows furrowed. A shadow curls around his rounded ear, whispering something to him that makes his gold eyes sparkle and his fingers twitch with interest.

“What is it you’ve got down there?” he asks.

A muscle in your jaw twitches with effort. “It’s the soul of an Alphrachne. I was feeding it to you.”

Silky smooth laughter echoes throughout the clearing. It startles you, the sound of anything other than threats and violence coming from the soul he’s controlling. You remember then that he’s young, hardly a few years older than yourself, and that he seems to have a wicked sense of humor.

“I do not eat souls,” his gravelly voice is amused, “I see them to their final destinations.”

“And where might that be?” you grit, struggling against his hold. You’d thought that while he was laughing his grip on your mind might slip and you could free yourself. No such luck.

“It will take a lot more than a bit of struggling to get out,” he responds. Goosebumps rise on your arms as he continues simply, “Hel.”

You knew it.

He seems interested in the creature’s soul you’ve brought forth anyway, golden eyes flickering down to your robes as if he can see through the thick material.

“An Alphrachne, you say?” the soul questions, unfocused eyes glimmering under his power. The voice sounds intrigued almost. 

Of course, he knows what the beast you’ve brought is. His brother Jax has taught him everything there is to know about the creatures crawling the lands in this realm and the next.

He’s heard that they are enormous. Bigger than Uncle Cassian. With sharp pincers and long talons. And you’ve captured one’s soul all on your own, armed with only a single knife and a healing spell around your neck.

His mouth twitches, impressed.

“Let’s see it then,” he reaches a hand out and you glare, limbs still obeying his commands. They don’t move from your sides.

“I’ll let you see it if you tell me your name.”

The amusement flees from his gaze. 

“Is that a bargain, (Y/N)?”

Your throat dries and your swallow catches, “No.”

He laughs again and your thighs quiver at the sight of his sinful smirk, the way his fascinating glimmering eyes glow with something else. Something akin to curiosity but warmer.

“Clever girl.”

His words are paired with a caress of razor-sharp claws against your mind. They’re much sharper than the Alphrachne’s, a tease of a scratch to let you know that it won’t take much else for him to break you completely.

You don’t deign to respond.

“And what happens if I take it from you?” he asks, and it's nearly playful. He wants to banter with you, he wants to see what you’re capable of.

“I’ll kill you.”

“And I’ll drown you in the river. Maybe I’ll even use that jar to keep your soul in like a little pet. I’m sure my brother would be more than happy to dissect your soul.” His voice slides like ice down your limbs and your breath puffs out in front of your face. You shudder.

You nearly fall forward into the shadowy abyss that is the river when he releases you from his hold. You pitch forward but shadows sweep upwards from their murky depths, righting you on your haunches.

Every muscle in your body aches from trying to escape his grasp. You gulp down heaving breaths of air as you stare up at him, his handsome face stoic but gold eyes focused, watching as you grab fistfuls of your deep emerald robes and clutch them tightly to yourself.

The soul beside him lets out a huff of impatience and you scramble for the jar. You pull it from your robe and offer it to him with a shaky hand. Even lifting the lightweight jar seems difficult with how tired your limbs suddenly are.

He uses his shadows to carry the jar on a dark wind to him as if he’s afraid to come closer to you. Surely death himself isn’t scared of a girl like you, but he stays in the center of the pool on his throne of darkness.

The crock looks humorously small in his hand and it’s only now that you notice the swirling tattoos inked upon his tanned skin. They look like his shadows, rivers of black circling his fingers and crawling up his arms. If you squint you think they may be moving.

He admires your capture with bright eyes, twisting and turning the jar. The soul inside quivers, pressing itself against the glass as far away as it can, cowering in fear, knowing its fate now.

Should’ve been quiet then, you think to yourself, having no mercy for the beast.

The riverkeeper's mouth quirks up at your words and you’d forgotten for a moment that he’s inside of your head, listening to all of your thoughts.

Your eyes go wide with realization. If he can hear your thoughts that means that he knows you were thinking about how handsome he is. 

Fuck.

His lips pull high into a wicked smile. One side curls higher than the other and it’s the first imperfect thing you’ve noticed about him, yet it still makes your breath hitch.

Those shining eyes snap back to yours.

The darkness moves, pulling in from all corners of the clearing like a tidal wave of black. They sweep around him and you throw an arm up to shield your eyes as they draw from the river, its metallic moonlit waters shining full force.

“Do not let me catch you here again, (Y/N),” the soul’s eerie voice says. You lower your arm and squint against the brightness to see him one last time. “I will not be so nice next time.”

“Wait,” you blurt frantically. You don’t know why you’re calling for him, why a part of you doesn’t want him to leave. His shadows falter, coming to a stop and it feels like they’re all staring at you, along with the soul in his grasp and his molten golden eyes. “You didn’t tell me your name.”

He studies you for so long, shadows sweeping around him that you’re afraid he may not answer after all.

But his harsh gaze softens as the soul speaks one last time before disappearing into a puff of black smoke.

“My name is Knox.”

“My name is Knox.”

[onenicebugperday]

@atienn-e​ submitted: here are some fun bugs ive seen lately in the pacific northwest. :) i believe them to be a harvestman, a common red soldier beetle, and a banded alder borer, but ofc i may have misidentified.

and this is a moth i found in alaska, of which i’ve been unable to identify. do you have any ideas?

Yes those IDs are correct! Banded alder borers are so dang pretty. The moth looks like a type of swift moth, Gazoryctra confusus, or at the very least a similar one in the same genus :)

[dansnaturepictures]

24/07/23-Lakeside and home

Photos taken in this set: 1 and 2. Jackdaw and Starlings that created dramatic scenes sitting on the roof out the back against dark clouds. 3. Fleabane at Lakeside, a species I enjoyed today. 4. Yarrow at Lakeside which was nice to see. 5, 6, 8 and 10. Views on nice lunch time and evening walks at Lakeside. 7. Rough-haired Lagria beetle out the front, a new species for me which I was fascinated to see. 9. One of a few moody and pretty sky scenes out the back today on a day of changeable weather.

It was a great flower day for me at Lakeside with red bartsia, St. John's-wort, ragwort, a great clump of water mint which I enjoyed seeing, bird's-foot trefoil, agrimony, hemp agrimony, wild carrot, spear thistle and broad-leaved clover seen well and carrot, dock and I believe sow thistle creating a vibrant scene in the flower bed on the way. Common red soldier beetles and another epic view of Red Admiral along the northern path in my short evening walk, Gatekeeper, Six-spot Burnet and Small White seen well at Lakeside at lunch time and top views of the Great Crested Grebe families again at Lakeside were other key wild moments today. Moorhen, Magpie, Black-headed Gull, Collared Dove and Woodpigeon were other key birds at Lakeside today, seeing and hearing a squawking Lesser Black-backed Gull on the way to Lakeside at lunch time with Goldfinch, House Sparrow, Magpie and lovely Swift gliding through the air other at home highlights. Orange daylily and sunflower standing out in the back garden, agrimony and buddleia was nice to see at home.

[asha-mage]

Mat/Rand. Prince

[Send me a character or pairing, and a one word prompt, and I'll write you a drabble!]

There is a small grassy glade in the Waterwood, nestled between two oddly shaped boulders that at one point in history, might have been something more. The huge willows of the Waterwood, with their spreading branches and tangling winding roots flank it on all sides and make the place almost invisible, if you do not know the trick of finding the path.

Rand can no longer remember if he or Mat was the first to discover it- the first to wander into that hidden place, always a little shadowy and damp with dew, even at mid noon in summer. But he knows that it was just their place: for the two of them to lay back in the grass and reach up for the branches, to laugh and joke and share secrets together. To talk of the adventures they would have when they where big enough to no longer be told no but their families or the Wisdom, or the Women’s Circle.

It wasn’t like the pond where they would go sometimes, with Perrin and Egwene to swim in the boiling heat of summer. Or like the trips down to idle by the river with other village youths. Something unspoken held it just between them, as if sharing knowledge of it would shatter something fragile and brittle and shinning kept there, between their laughs and games of make-believe.

Once, when they where eight, Mat had made a crown. With his clumsy fingers he had woven starburst and morning glory with loose garlands from the willows, twinning them around broken branches and loose sticks until he had made a rough ring of white and gold and bright orange.

He had bowed elaborately when he was done and presented the crown to Rand with a flourish.

“My prince.” Mat had said with exaggerated deference spoiled only a little by the fox like grin on lips. Rand couldn’t help but laugh as he had taken it and placed it onto his head. He had known it would look foolish, but something had shinned in Mat’s eyes as Rand had fixed it in place, something for which Rand had no name at the time.

“And what am I prince of exactly?” Rand had teased when the crown was settled. “Where is my kingdom?”

“You are standing in it!” Mat had laughed and gestured at the glade. “Prince of the hidden grove! Lord of the Waterwood, etc etc.”

Rand had smirked back. “Master of all the castles in the air? And served by soldiers armored in gossamer steel?” He teased. “And who is my general then? A puppet made of glass?”

Mat had whooped but shaken his head, plucking up another stick to hold like a General’s rod. “No puppets for the Prince of the Morning. I am your general, leader of your loyal hawks, and dogs and foxes. All the carrion eaters, all the foul things can oppose you if they wish-“ He winked. “I will drive them all back with sword and shield and catapult. Let the beetles and the snakes, the rats and the ravens try. I will chase them all away from you, Highness.”

He had said it with such solemnity, such stiff lipped strength that Rand couldn’t help but burst into laughter, and Mat had followed suit soon after. They had ended up laying on their backs staring at the sky and joking about the campaigns they would wage, and the laws they would enact in their new realm (beginning with no bed times of course, and descending in importance from there).

At some point Mat’s hand had found it’s way into Rand’s, and stayed there, until it was to late for them to remain, and they had no choice but to head back to the village.

My general of the hawks and the dogs and the foxes. Rand thought as he watched Mat ride ahead of him. That was years ago no, more then a decade gone. All around them, the crowds of Cairhien citizens cheered and sang, trying to press in on Rand’s small party, held back by the Maidens and the Tearians alike.

And Mat rode ahead, not looking back. Afraid to even stare into Rand’s eyes for to long. Lieutenants and officers from the Band of the Red Hand surrounded him on all sides, and more soldiers marched, rank on rank ahead of them, basking in the accolades of their victory.

The Band of the Red Hand. Not the Band of the Dragon, or the Legion of Al’Thor. The Band of the Red Hand, named for a long dead army of mercenaries, and likely to be just the same.

Rand felt his eyes sweep up to the spires of the Sun Palace in the distance. He was more then any Prince now, more then any King, probably more even then long dead Artur Hawkwing. His name would be writ across history in fire, and their where thousands ready to march at his word, to die for him.

He felt the never healing wound in his side throb in dull agony.

His eyes sank back to Mat, to the sight of the nape of his neck, just visible above the collar of his coat.

And I would trade it all, to be in our grove again. I would give it all away for our castles in the air, for our army of hawks and dogs and foxes.

Better to be a prince with a flower crown, then the Dragon Reborn. Better by miles.

[unkn0wnvariable]

Common Red Soldier Beetle

A common red soldier beetle climbing up a grass stem, in Southwick Wood.

[twst-drabbles]

Ace, Deuce and Jamil 1

Summary: You were relaxing in the garden with Jamil sunbathing on your shoulder when a bug landed on his tail. A large jade green beetle.

You remember reading a little note about how important it is to receive at least some sun every day. Honestly, you had a hard time following it, mostly because the sun would make you so groggy and you’d struggle to finish your day. In fact, you’re fighting to keep your eyes open.

But, with you sitting on a chair with no back, and Jamil lazily wrapping himself around your neck while perched on your head, you can’t fall asleep without falling over. You can’t see him but you can imagine Jamil braiding his hair. He’s moving a little too much to tell otherwise.

Below, towards your feet, you saw Ace and Deuce doing their rounds, running to and fro from one side of the garden to the other. You don’t understand the path they’re taking but they seem to remember well enough. They’re marching, like little soldiers but as soon as Ace thought you were out of sight—they weren’t, the bush did little to hide their colors—Ace slumped and dragged his feet against the ground.

Slacker.

A buzzing came to the right of you. Instinctively, you swatted out, you hated mosquitoes with a passion but you missed. It flew over your hand, arcing before it landed right on Jamil’s tail. A large, fat, jade green bug who’s shell almost blinded you with it’s reflection. The little antennas twitched at you.

You felt him stiffen.

“Jamil…” you warned, and gave a reminder, “you’re on my neck…”

Do not choke me.

Of course, you can’t reason with fear. A high pitched shriek bordering on a whistle punched out of Jamil. You made to swat the beetle off but his tail went wild and struck against your collar bone. It stung, like you’d imagine Divus’s whip would whenever he used it.

“Jamil! Ow, Jamil!” He needs to hold still if he wants the bug off. “Hold still!”

In a flash of blue, red and green, Deuce and Ace burst from the bushes, but Deuce used Ace as an non-consenting trampoline and jumped, spring-boarded off of your thigh and tackled the bug in one shot. A high screaming tackle, fists out, ready to pummel this bug to death. Like a rubber ball, he bounced off the floor and into the next bush in his path. A grand scuffle was heard, the bush shuddering as twigs broke and Deuce yelled.

Then it was silent. Deuce came out, all scratched up and covered in dirt as though he had the fight of his life. Then, he puffed up in pride right before your eyes.

“Huh,” You didn’t know bugs could put up such a fight, “Nice job.”

Ace, on the other hand, was still faced down on the floor, rag doll style.

Jamil slide off your shoulders, slowly as his limbs were weak from all the tight panic, and poked Ace as though to make sure he’s alive. He is. You can tell. Ace just doesn’t want to face the embarrassment of Deuce stealing his spotlight.

When you noticed Jamil's tongue flick in and out, you said, "Jamil, stop that. He's not food."

Only then did Ace rocket up and away from all of you, leaving a dust cloud in his wake.

Wow, that worked. You were kidding, honestly. You know Ace would never meet Jamil's food standards. Too unseasoned.