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crevicedwelling · 7 months

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I see at least one cool bug a day, and usually many more, but it’s not because I live anywhere particularly rich in strange, wonderful creatures (I live in an unremarkable corner of Pennsylvania, USA) or spend all of my free time looking for bugs (well, just *most* of it). in my experience, finding interesting bugs is less about actually locating them and more about looking closely at tiny things you’d otherwise ignore!

this very long post was compiled over a couple days in late July, although I spent less than 10 minutes at a time searching. there’s a lot of fun creatures just out in the open.

plants are always a good place to start when looking for bugs, and I chose this small fig tree (Ficus carica) with a mulberry sapling friend. feeding on the sap of the fig and mulberry is the first group I’ll take a look at, the planthoppers:

these two are flatid bugs, Metcalfa pruinosa and Flatormenis proxima. flatids are slow-moving bugs that can be approached closely, but once they get tired of circling around stems to avoid you they may launch themselves into a fluttering flight with spring-loaded rear legs.

Aplos simplex, a member of the related family Issidae, also likes fig sap. its “tail” is actually a tuft of waxy secretions, which get shed along with the bright colors when it assumes a lumpy, bean-shaped adult form.

cicadellids, or leafhoppers, are just about everywhere on plants, but can be hard to approach without scaring them.

Agallia constricta on the left is a tiny species that feeds on grass, but many were scared up onto the fig by my footsteps. Jikradia olitoria is a much larger species that does feed on the fig; juveniles like this are curled, creeping goblins while adults’ rounded wings give them a pill-shaped appearance.

this big, pale leafhopper belongs to genus Gyponana. it’s tricky to get to species ID with these.

Graphocephala are striking little hoppers that eat a variety of native and nonnative plants. G. coccinea is the larger, more boldly colored one and G. versuta is smaller but more common locally. they’ll sit on the tops of leaves but take flight if you get too close quickly.

another group you’re almost guaranteed to encounter are flies (Diptera). these are a very diverse group, so much more than houseflies and mosquitoes (though I did run into both)

where I live, any plant with broad leaves is almost guaranteed to have a few Condylostylus, long-legged flies that come in shades of blue, green, and red. despite their dainty physique, they’re agile predators, typically feeding on other small flies.

next, a few hoverflies: the ubiquitous Toxomerus geminatus and a Eumerus that I’ve been seeing a lot of this year (but maybe I’ve just noticed them for the first time). syrphids have varied life histories, but most adults drink nectar and many of the larvae are predaceous on aphids.

the metallic green soldier fly is Microchrysa flaviventris, nonnative here. Coenosia is a fun example of a “fly that looks like a fly,” with big red eyes and a gray body, and you might think they’re just another dung-sucking pest, but they’re actually aggressive predators! this one seemed to have nabbed itself some sort of nematoceran fly, maybe a fungus gnat.

many flies are very tiny, just millimeters long. the first two little fellows are lauxaniids, while the last one, an agromyzid leafminer Cerodontha dorsalis, burrows through grass leaves as a larva.

while moths and butterflies (Lepidoptera) are drawn to plants for their flowers or to lay eggs, many small moths can easily be found resting on or under leaves during the day.

these first two are tortricids, many of which are flat, rectangular moths resembling chips of bark or dead leaves. the apple bud moth, Platynota idaeusalis, feeds on a wide variety of hosts, while this beat-up old Argyrotaenia pinatubana would have developed in an edible tube nest of pine needles.

Callima argenticinctella feeds in bark and dead wood (a resource used by more caterpillars than you’d realize!) while the last moth, possibly an Aspilanta, is a leafminer.

although beetles (Coleoptera) are famous for their diversity, I didn’t find too many on the fig. the invasive Oriental beetle Exomala orientalis resting here can be found in a wide range of colors, from this common tan to to deep iridescent black. the other beetle is a Photinus pyralis firefly, sleeping under leaves as fireflies do.

a few spare hemipterans: a Kleidocerys resedae that blew in on a wind, and below, the mulberry whitefly Tetraleurodes mori feeds on its namesake host. as for Hymenoptera, I saw manny tiny parasitic braconid wasps and various ants attracted to the planthoppers’ honeydew excretions—always worth checking underneath roosting hoppers for things having a drink.

a couple handsome spider boys were scrambling through the fig seeking females, a jumping spider Paraphidippus aurantius and an orbweaver, Mecynogea lemniscata.

and to round it off, a young Conocephalus meadow katydid and a Carolina mantis, Stagmomantis carolina.

there’s 31 species of arthropod in this post, and I probably saw some 45, not all of which stayed for photos. if you walk slowly and look closely, you can see a sizeable chunk of your local biodiversity in under fifteen minutes! of course this will depend on where you live and what time of year it is, but there’s almost always more cool bugs out there than you’d expect, even on just a single plant.

#bugs #insect #arachnid #biodiversity #Hemiptera

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homeofthelonelywriter · 26 days

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Drawn to you | Pt. 3 (Warnings!)

(A/N) Another part! Wohooo! This one is a lot heavier than the others, so please read the warnings and do take care of yourself.

Pairing: Alastor x bunny demon!Reader (no Y/N)

Warnings: talk of deals, punishments, beatings, lots of really bad stuff, like srsly, the V's are the bad guys

Synopsis: The one you were running from has found you.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

Your body froze and your breath got caught in your throat.

He found you.

You thought you were safe, but he found you.

He found you.

You really thought you could escape him. How foolish of you.

You shook your head and turned around to face the overlord you had been running from for some time now. As soon as your eyes met his, a shiver ran through you. Behind those heart-shaped glasses, a fire was burning. A fire that promised punishment. That promised pain. So much pain.

Before either you or Alastor could say anything, a red chain formed in his hand, which connected to a collar around your neck. With one sharp tuck, you stumbled towards the moth demon, a cry leaving your lips as you landed on your knees in front of him.

“Valentino…”

You glared up at him, ignoring the burn coming from your scraped and bleeding knees.

“Ah, my favorite little toy. I have missed you, my dear.”

A smirk pulled at his lips as he leaned down until his face was only millimeters away from yours. You winced as his breath fanned across your face, the stench of his breath invading your nostrils.

“Now, what do we have here?”

Alastor! You quickly turned around and watched the radio demon saunter towards you and the overlord, his grin turned sinister.

“I suggest you let her go. After all, I was about to enter a deal with the lady, can’t let you ruin that, I do apologize.”

Valentino barked out a laugh as he straightened to his full height, looking down at the deer demon.

“Well, you see, that isn’t possible. As you can see, she has already entered a deal with me. A deal-”

Valentino gave the chain another sharp tug as if to emphasize what he was about to say, causing a pained whimper to fall from your lips.

“- she broke. She ran away. And now, she has to be punished. So, you’ll have to excuse u-”

Before he finished the sentence, he suddenly gripped you by your throat and held you up in front of his body. A gasp left your lips as his fingers closed off your airways, both your hands coming up to grab at the wrist holding you in the air.

Only then did you notice the black tentacles heading straight toward you. You closed your eyes, preparing for the impact and the pain, but nothing happened. Slowly, you blinked your eyes open, only to see that tentacles stopped right in front of you, slowly retracting toward Alastor.

Just as suddenly as you were lifted into the air, you were let go and fell back to the ground. You could hear a deep chuckle from behind you, just as a growl left Alastor’s lips, his sinister grin still there.

“Just as I thought…well, let’s get going, shall we, Valerie?”

“My name isn’t Valerie.”

While saying those words, your eyes never left Alastor’s, who slowly nodded in acknowledgment, as if saying that he believed you. You were about to nod back when another tug on the chain brought you back to reality. An arm suddenly wrapped around your waist and you were lifted into the air, but not just because you were picked up, but because Valentino used his wings to lift the two of you up into the air, flying towards the V tower.

“See you later, radio jerk!”

“So, you got the bitch back, huh?”

Velvette’s clawed fingers roughly grabbed your chin and forced you to look up at her. She grinned at your broken form, lying on the floor of the common room, covered in blood. Your eyes had long since glossed over as you dissociated to bear the pain.

She let go of your chin, your head hitting the floor hard, making her giggle. Velvette had always been the one who reveled the most in torturing sinners. Vox and Valentino enjoyed it as well, but she loved it.

“I did. Who would’ve thought she’d hide out in the same hotel Angel is spending all of his time at? Almost grabbed him as well, while I was already there. Ugh and that damn radio demon, almost ruined everything.”

The mention of Alastor registered in your mind, bringing you back to reality. The pain hit you all at once and you could barely hide a pained whimper, not wanting them to know.

Vox interrupted Valentino’s rambling, asking him if he was really talking about the Alastor and when Valentino confirmed, the TV demon went into a heated rant about his competitor. When he started to broadcast all of that, you saw your chance at revenge. Especially, when suddenly Alastor’s radio broadcast seemed to answer Vox’s TV broadcast.

While the two of them were arguing back and forth, you slowly reached out with your power and started to kill Vox’s connection, before eventually killing it off completely. You knew that they’d eventually figure out that that embarrassing moment was your fault, but you promised Alastor you’d help him with his comeback. At least you kept that promise and got to have some fun with the V’s as well.

And you were right. After only a few minutes, the three demons gathered around you and started another round of punishments. By the time they got tired, you weren’t sure if you’d survive the night. Still, after one more kick from Velvette, all three of them left the common room, leaving you on the floor.

At first, you were afraid that you’d actually die. But it didn’t take long for you to beg for death. So when suddenly you heard slow steps coming closer, you couldn’t help but beg.

“Please…kill…me.”

“Now, why would I do that, my dear?”

Alastor appeared from the shadows and kneeled down in front of you, his grin almost replaced by a frown, but not quiet. Still, you could see the concern in his eyes.

Avoiding major injuries, Alastor carefully picked you up, whimpers spilling from your lips in protest.

“Sssh, it’s okay. I’ll get you all fixed up. I got you, cher.”

A sudden pulling sensation all over your body made you wince, but it was over quickly and you had to close your eyes as you suddenly found yourself in the brightly lit hotel lobby. Chaos erupted around you and you could hear Charlie asking Alastor what happened, moments before everything went black.

@impulsivethoughtsat2am @dasimp777 @fanficwriter5 @wonderlandangelsposts

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Hazbin Hotel - Masterlist

Master-Masterlist

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin hotel fanfic #alastor #alastor the radio demon #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #alastor fanfiction #alastor fanfic #alastor love

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nomiqbomi · 1 year

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Updated designs for Fophid and Lepignito commissioned by my friend @plus-sizedscribe! Plus a new middle form, Impodster, and 4 distinct formes that Lepignito can take, based on the environment it evolves in.

More info under the tab!

Fophid are timid creatures with many predators. Their carapace has evolved to blend in perfectly with an arboreal environment. When provoked, it wields the branch-like appendage on its abdomen like a lance. It has no venom, it's quite sharp!

Impodster attaches itself firmly to tree limbs, disguising itself as a small branch. Once it has done this, it is impossible to detach until it evolves. (It would be much easier to take the entire branch with it!) It does not budge, even after being discovered. Individuals who have camouflaged themselves poorly can often be found with leaves full of holes, made by bird Pokemon that attempted to carry them away.

When Impodster evolves into Lepignito, it takes on a perfect likeness of its immediate environment. Four unique patternings, based the biomes it occurs in naturally, have been officially recorded; however, it is believed that new patterns could be created by evolving the pokemon in a unique environment.

Even when their immediate environment does not match the markings on their wings, they somehow still manage to obscure themselves from view. Many theories have been pose as to how they are able to do this, but none have been proven, as this behavior is quite difficult to observe.

It prefers to sit motionlessly and evade detection, but when provoked, it uses its stealth to confound opponents and catch them unawares. Once the opponent has become disoriented, it flies off into the shadows, never to be seen again.

---

The line is based on the Peppered Moth, which are a famous example of natural selection that has actually been observed and recorded in real-time. The moth originally evolved to camouflage against lightly-colored trees, but a melanic mutation became more genetically favorable during the industrial revolution, when the trees became blackened with soot. After environmental standards were introduced, the white variant became common again. Today both variations can be found, and they are often mistaken for different species!

Plussized-Scribe helped conceptually with the variations/typing, with his own rom-hack in mind. I may add more variations for my own fan project.

I had originally designed Fophid to camouflage with the forest floor, but during my redesign I found out that the peppered caterpillar camouflages itself as a tree branch. I thought that was neat, to I went with that angle instead.

I also added a middle form to make it a better counterpart for the Pareyeva line who use the opposite form of self defense!

Edit: @plus-sizedscribe wrote some really great Pokedex entries for his hack that he allowed me to share here as well:

"Unlike Sewaddle, the leafy bits Fophid sport are not fashion statements, but specialized organs for camouflage. In autumn, their bodies release chemicals to redden the organs and match the foliage.

The base of the headcrest pulls double duty as a third mandible. Thus, Fophid can chew better while also maintaining camouflage, as the shaking of the crest resembles a leaf trembling in the breeze."

"Having secured themselves on a sturdy tree trunk, Impodster steadfastly await evolution. Very little can dislodge these Pokémon, which are nearly helpless if they happen to end up on the ground.

Impodster with poor camouflage are often found with leaves full of holes. These are made by naïve bird Pokémon attempting to carry them away, only to realize they picked almost the worst prey they could."

"Some people claim to have fallen for a person who always wore a long coat, only for their lover to turn out to be a Lepignito. The veracity of these bizarre anecdotes is suspect, to say the least.

Lepignito live in trees whose bark match their wing patterns. They boast different patterns to blend in with the available types of trees in the regions they inhabit. At least 25 different varieties are known."

#would people like it if i made more comprehensive posts like this of fakemon I've already finished and posted?#I think some consistency would be nice #Pokemon #fakemon #bug type #moth #caterpillar #cocoon #character design #monster design #artists on tumblr #photoshop #digital art #writing #insects #pokemon chartreuse #no offense but ash forme is kind of mothman

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storiesbyrhi · 1 year

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Witch!Reader x Bat/Vampire!Eddie Munson Series Masterlist The Grimoire

Warnings: canon typical violence, horror genre typical violence, swearing, no beta, warnings updated each chapter.

Synopsis: No witch has stepped foot in Hawkins since 1845, but when Vecna opens the ground and poisons the town, a voice begins to call to you. Have you been brought back to this cursed place to heal the townspeople’s wounds, to save a hexed bat that always finds its way to you, or to redefine your history with a reunion 150 years in the making?

Chapter Summary: A voice calls to you.

Author's Note: Set around two weeks after the ‘earthquake’ and is canon-compliant except there is no Eddie in 1986. This fic takes a couple of chapters to get going, so stay with me. I am SO excited about this, and I think you will love where it goes.

1986

The colony screeched and swooped, taking off into the inky dusk sky with graceless chaos. Each bat had stretched their wings and dropped from their forest dwelling to join the trilling and flapping. Only one remained.

He perched high in the treetops, an unwillingness to join the others that was not typical for a bat. Impossible for a bat, depending on who you asked. He observed the night grow darker with an entirely unnatural sense of understanding.

Eventually, he would fall from the branch and join the others in the hunt for moths and wasps, beetles and bugs. The hunger would drive him to it, yet the hunger could never be satisfied. It had been like that for one hundred and fifty years.

He was the oldest in the colony and couldn’t remember being young. He couldn’t remember reveling in warm nights or cicada season. He felt as if he had always haunted the forest and always would. He felt, and that was the problem.

The other bats did as all Eptesicus fuscus did. They were born into a colony around April and spent a month nursing from their mothers. The pups grew up, hibernated in the winter, mated, and bared the next generation, ultimately living a short life, just shy of a decade at best.

This bat did not. He did not hibernate alone or with others. When they found warmth and shelter in dilapidated buildings, under tree bark, or in caves, he remained a presence on the boughs of the forest’s tallest trees. He did not mate and did not father. He did not fly patterns across the sky while the town below slept. He ate to survive and continued to live well beyond his species’ dictated years. Nothing more. Nothing less.

He watched over Hawkins, Indiana for over a century. With each passing year, things would change. Slowly, the wilderness had been reduced to clusters of wooded areas by modernisation and industrialisation. It was becoming more and more common for the bats to come into contact with humans. A vast majority of the time, the people screamed and ran, terrified of disease or spooked by urban legends. Some marveled at the bats with respectful awe. Some tried and failed to catch the needle-teethed things for sport. Mostly, they were left alone to mind their own bat business, and mostly, that’s what the ageless bat did.

It wasn’t until mid-nineteenth century that the bat sensed a deep and profound shift. The Lab was built and the earth suffered. The bat had an ariel view and echolocation, but he couldn’t know what happened within the walls. Decades passed and the mystery continued. By 1983 though, he knew his kind wasn’t the only nightmare fuel in the woods.

1984. 1985. And, in 1986 the ground split open, spilling the Upside Down into Hawkins. An earthquake, reported the news. The sixth sense innate in all animals knew better Deers, birds, and bees all migrated out of pattern. The colony of bats entirely disappeared one night, having feared the vibrations pulsating from the cracks in the earth.

Only one remained, an unshakable and quite possibly magical force tethering him to Hawkins.

…

“That town is no place for a witch,” came the warning. “Something is still wrong with Hawkins. Can’t you sense it?”

Infamous in Indiana, Hawkins was the place where buildings burnt and people went missing with threefold outcome. One: they were never seen again. Two: returned, but at what cost? Three: bodies found, so disfigured by unseen violence that it was hard not to believe in monsters.

When the streets fell apart in 1986, sending part of the town down into hell, it would have been fair for Hawkins to lose what remained of their resolve. Yet, the town would go on to rebuild, and between the freshly poured concrete and funeral services, a battle was fought in secret.

“A doorway was opened. They may not claim victory,” came another warning with a beg to heed.

Yes, it would be the fight of their lives, but it wasn’t for a witch to interfere with. That was a hard line in the sand of magic that even you would not cross. They called him Vecna, but you had no name for him. His sorcery was not of the natural world. To let him know of yours would be to risk it all.

There was more to you than witchcraft, however. Hawkins was a town in crisis, and there was space for you to help and heal.

“It’s not just him,” cried a third and final warning. “The ground is consecrated,”

“That’s old superstition,” you dismissed.

“So is blood moon bad luck, but look what happened last time. And falling brooms, broken mirrors, and circles of salt. We are superstition. There are some places witches should not go.”

Your mind was set and your path clear. “Something is calling me there. Doesn’t that have meaning?”

“Not all callings are sanctified,”

“Do we fear holiness or not?” you asked. “I can’t walk consecrated ground but should only show devotion to the sanctified calls?”

There was no answer.

You sighed and softened your voice. “Look, I know you mean well. All you do is out of love. I know that. But, I need to do this. It’s… I don’t know… So real. The calling. It almost has a voice,”

“The timing,” was offered as a reminder.

The first time you felt something coming from Hawkins was when the quote unquote earthquake happened. A catastrophic event like that had to have more consequences than just Vecna, you thought. It could have shifted other magic and natural musings.

“I’ve made up my mind,” you stated with boldness beyond your rank in the coven.

“Are you so willing to discount lore?”

“Folklore. It’s 1986. I know witchcraft isn’t a science, but you have to give me more credit than that. We don’t have to listen to every whisper on the wind and take for gospel the tea leaves in our cups… Nuances, you know?”

Your eyes stayed closed and your hand gripped the pen tightly, waiting for a reply to be sprawled out on the page. When nothing more came, ‘Are you so willing to discount lore?’ the last words scribbled in a handwriting not your own, you breathed out hard.

Automatic writing took a lot of energy out of you, but it was the best method of speaking to The Witches Who Came Before. Reading back their psychographic warnings, you felt a small sense of guilt over defying them, but more than guilty, you felt empathy for a town so beaten by evil over and over.

Hawkins was calling.

…

Aid workers, distressed families, and reporters had flooded the small town, making it all the more easy for you to slip by the city limits unnoticed. Although you weren’t sure what should or could be noticing you, there was still a small exhale of relief when you didn’t burst into flames as you drove passed the ‘Welcome to Hawkins’ sign.

The voice calling you to the town hadn’t been polite enough to give specific instructions. In lieu of directions or coordinates, you drove along roads that appeared to be out of the path of the earthquake, finding your way to a bar called The Hideaway.

Inside, patrons sat around watching their town on the news while staff rushed to cook food and package it up for the crisis centers.

“Bit of a wait on food, honey,” a waitress called to you.

“Just after a Coke.”

It seemed uncanny for a bar to be operational in the middle of an emergency, but it also befit a town so used to death. You took your can of Coke from the waitress, left a ten on the counter, and made your way around the tables to get to the noticeboard on the other side of the room.

Lost dogs. Swimming classes. Babysitters for hire. Then, your eyes landed on it.

1BR TRAILER. PARTLY FURNISHED. WATER/ELECTRICITY. NEEDS REPAIR. CHEAP. CALL: FOREST HILLS TRAILER PARK. 312-683-1192.

Maybe it had already been volunteered to home displaced people, but you trusted it was worth a shot. “Hey, can I borrow your phone?” you asked the waitress, walking to the bar and leaning on it. She nodded and dumped the old rotary phone in front of you.

After four rings, “Forest Hills,”

“Ah, hey. I saw your flyer. About the one-bedroom. Is that still available?”

The woman made a scoffing sound. “Apparently beggars can be choosers. Ain’t nothing wrong with that trailer but Red Cross said it ain’t fit for people. On account of the mold, they said.” Her voice was gravelly from a pack a day, but she didn’t sound unkind.

“I don’t mind mold,”

“Guess it’s available then.”

…

The bat had never known illness or injury. Whatever was killing the trees though, had touched him. He didn’t wither and die like other flora and fauna, but he wasn’t unscathed. It was as if he was burnt from the inside out, a mark on his feet spreading slowly but surely.

The sensation was unpleasant at first, but grew more noxious. His wings wouldn’t stretch their full span, and he could only glide small distances. The bat found a small patch of trees not yet turned to ash, settling in at the base of one, hiding under brush for warmth.

It was a fine place to die, if that should be his fate. He was where he belonged.

…

Forest Hills Trailer Park had been subdivided again and again; any spare patch of land was used for caravans and tents of people left homeless or those coming to watch the disaster unfold.

The one-bedroom trailer Michelle, manager of the park, gave you the keys to was indeed in need of repair. There were air vents that sat wide open, the outside cold seeping through. Dark mold grew in the corner of the bedroom’s ceiling. And the carpet should have been replaced years prior.

The very first thing you did once alone in your new home was ring a small bell you kept in your bag. Three shrill rings for good fortune. For everything else, you’d need supplies.

The local general stores would likely be low on stock, and the shopping mall had burnt down only a year ago. It stood in ruin, yet to be redeveloped. Before you ventured to the shops, you decided to take a short walk around Forest Hills and the surrounding land to see what could be foraged.

As you passed people, some looked you up and down, Satanic Panic clouding their perception of anyone they considered to be different from themselves, to be ‘other’ in any way. Some neighbours though, waved and offered a friendly greeting. “Michelle con you into that old trailer?” one asked, to which you politely faked a laugh.

Out beyond the trailers and RVs was a patch of land that seemed unaffected by everything happening in the town. The trees soundproofed the space, making it feel miles away from civilisation. While there wasn’t much in the way of edible mushrooms and plants, nor things needed for your craft, you sensed an undercurrent of magic there.

Crouching down, you picked up a golden leaf, twirling it between your fingers. Close, you thought, but didn’t know what it meant.

It was then you saw it out of the corner of your eyes. Something moved under the tree near you. Small. An animal. A rabbit, maybe? Rats or opossums or a trash-stealing raccoon?

Slowly, you sat down on the forest floor, cross-legged and facing the tree. You would wait until the animal revealed itself on its own terms.

The bat was so weak he could hardly move. He tried to hide away from the human that was watching him, but he couldn’t. When he resigned to his position, he let his vision focus on you.

You weren’t surprised to see the bat. The feeling was relief, like you’d found a missing thing. It was clear something was wrong with the creature though. “Do you need help?” you asked it.

Still slowly, you scooted closer to the bat. There were no obvious signs of injury. His brown fluffy body was free from blood or gore. Perhaps he had torn a wing or flown into a tree.

“I can help,” you whispered, holding a hand out flat to the ground. The tips of your fingers were close enough to the bat that he could bite if he wanted to, or he could shuffle forward into the softness of your hand.

Whatever compelled the bat to never leave Hawkins, compelled him to fall onto your palm.

“Hi,” you greeted, bringing your hand to your chest and holding the bat safely between your hands. “What’s happened?”

The bat was a common species; you recognised him as the aptly named big brown bat. His body was the size of a baseball, and some of his colouring was wrong. His legs and arms would normally be pink, but they were a sickly black colour. It looked like his brown fur was beginning to turn too.

“Did you eat something bad? Accidentally poison yourself?”

The bat, of course, did not answer your questions. You looked around the trees for other lost animals or any sign of something that may have caused your new friend to become sick. When there were no answers there either, you stood and took the both of you back to the trailer.

…

Destiny and a little folly may have led you to Forest Hills and the one-bedroom trailer, but you had come to Hawkins prepared nonetheless. In your car, there were supplies to ensure if you’d had to sleep there for a couple of nights, you could. The bat would benefit from your readiness.

The sleeping bag you’d packed was turned into a soft nest for him. “Alright, let’s get you warm,” you whispered, placing him in the middle. He shuffled on the spot for a few moments before settling, his brown eyes still watching you.

When you offered him a piece of banana, he nibbled at it.

When you gingerly stroked his fur, he let you.

Still, there was something about the way the bat watched you, something in his reaction to your movements. You couldn’t put your finger on it, but it was most definitely curious.

“Alright, my furry friend. We need provisions. Especially if there’s gonna be two of us.” You spoke to him as you pulled your jacket on and grabbed your bag. “Please be here when I get back. I promise I can help you.”

…

It was dark when you returned home. Stores were staying open late to receive interstate deliveries and provide goods to the in-need townspeople, so you managed to get most things on your list.

Inside the trailer was cold, the spring air outside not yet filtered with summer’s coming warmth. You checked on the bat, ensured he was still cosy in his nest. Then, you got to work.

After soap and scrubbing did its part and the mold was attacked with vinegar and bleach, you boarded up the vents and added repairing them properly to your to-do list. In the bedroom, the bed was covered in fresh linen while you dreamed of a brand new mattress.

The only other furniture in the so-called ‘partly furnished’ trailer was a couple of bar stools at the kitchen bench, a televisionless television stand, a couch in surprisingly good condition, and a coffee table that sat a little too low to the ground.

Next, you took a ritual learned from your sisters whilst in India and let milk and rice boil over on the stove for prosperity and abundance. From time spent in Lowcountry, you observed the practice of painting your porch blue. The trailer didn’t have a porch, but the doorframes would suffice. It would ward off evil spirits, as would the salt ring you ran around the home. Finally, mugwort and sweetgrass smudged through the space, cleansing and claiming it as your own.

By the time you were finished, it was almost midnight and your stomach growled obscenities. The bat had been nibbling on the fruit you’d offered, but you’d not eaten since the morning.

After two cups of noodles and a cup of white jasmine tea, you unpacked the small cat bed you’d purchased for the bat. You relocated him into it, still with the sleeping bag, and pushed it under your bed. He’d like it in the dark, you thought.

Skipping a shower, you changed into pajamas and got into bed. Sleep came quickly, perhaps quicker than it had in decades. You dreamt that night. Of darkness. Of blood. Of screaming. Nothing coherent, nothing recognisable. Just an ominous feeling that you were going to find what you were looking for, ready or not.

End Note: Reblogs and comments are so appreciated. Like I said, it will take a couple of chapters for you to fall in love, but I promise you will.

If you are interested in the witchcraft in the story, check out The Grimoire. It will be updated with each chapter!

Fic Taglist: @kaitebugg03 @paranoidmunson @amira0303 @munsonsbait @idkidknemore @paprikaquinn @stardustworlds @loz-brooke @wyverntatty @vintagehellfire @dark-academia-slut @scarletwitchwhore @becks1002 @mrsdollardog @heyndrix @luceneraium @rosaline-black @devilinthepalemoonlite @goldencherriess @iamwhisperingstars @wiltedwonderland @blueywrites @breezybeesposts @jadehowlettthewolf @spikesvamp79 @foreveranexpatsposts @stardustmunson @tortoiseshellspells @wingedpeachjudgegiant

All Eddie Taglist: @solomons-finest-rum @ruinedbythehobbit @munsonlives @sweetpeapod @depressooo-expressooo-blog @thorfemmes @hawkins-high @corrodedhawkins @grungegrrrl @lilzabob @mymoonisalways-in-scorpio @averagemisfit03 @ches-86 @ilovecupcakesandtea @onehotgreasymechanic @hazydespair @lacrymosa-24 @mel-the-fangirl

#Mine #Burning Yarrow #Eddie Munson #Eddie Munson x Reader #Eddie Munson x You #Eddie Munson/Reader #Eddie Munson/You #Vampire!Eddie #Vampire Eddie Munson

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bugmuncherr · 23 days

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BUG OF THE DAY

BotD 14 - 04/04/24

These are the many different caterpillar color morphs of the Banded Sphinx moth!

Today's BotD is specifically for these gorgeous caterpillars, but the adult moth of this species is also absolutely beautiful! (See below) It's not uncommon for caterpillars to have some standard variation in their colors- in fact, color morphs are quite common! Usually, these color morphs benefit the caterpillars because it makes sure that no matter what environment they're in, some caterpillars will have a camouflage advantage. My favorite example of this is in the species Papilio polyxenes, or the Eastern Black Swallowtail. Not only do the caterpillars of this species show up either fronting green and white, or fronting black, but the chrysalids of this species can also show up either leafy green, or tree bark brown. This, however, is a very unusual amount of color morphing! Not only are there many different variations of these caterpillars, but they are all drastically different in color! Which flavor is your favorite? Mine is strawberry-banana!

Thea why are all of these recent posts about moths? Because I'm being self-indulgent !! Gosh !!! Go treat yourselves

#BotD #bug of the day #entomology #bugs #bug #bugblr #bugposting #insect #insects #moth #moths #lepidoptera #lepidopterology #caterpillar

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cedar-glade · 4 months

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From last fall: One of the reddest reds on the landscape, associates with ericaceous heath belts with minimal light competition. So mainly dry sandstone with shallow nutrient poor soils and good drainage or sandstone barrens. Due to slow growth and an acidic weathering effect associated with the bark cortex and the water retention these species also tend to have incredible lichen diversity.

Citheronia regalis horn devil larva are associated as the primary moth that eats these leaves.

Oxydendrum arboreum

Sourwood, or some call it sour bark tree, chewing on the bark and active phloem was once common practice to alleviate the nerve pain associated with toothaches. The leaves themselves are an anti-gas, anti-inflammatory laxative(strong one at that). In some cases a tea can be made of the leaves that also aids in other issues and have been used to treat urinary infections by native people and early settlers to the Appalachian mountains and ilp.

Right now at llanfair permaculture we have an interesting soil dynamic that may be accessible for species like this due to good drainage and high organic comp as well as good lighting, the other thing is that these seeds don't seem to require any specialized treatment to germinate.

https://www.jstor.org/stable/3799771

#Oxydendrum arboreum #kentucky #rrg #red river gorge #botany #ecology #oxydendrum

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dragonzart03 · 20 days

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Wof tribe headcanons made by me!

Mudwings

They have multiple sets of spines on their backs, similar to crocodiles, alligators, and gharials! I think they'd be distinguished for different mudwings by royalty, with royal dragons having 5 rows of spines and non-royals having 3.

Example of spines:

Seawings

Seawings have distinct tail shapes and patterns, most likely based on different species of fish or sharks. To name a few examples, angel fish, clown fish, thresher sharks, and tiger sharks. This includes them having fish, shark, and dolphin tails.

The edges of their wings are smooth and rounded in order to glide through currents and to have better mobility while swimming, similar to the light fury's wings from how to train your dragon. They are less acquainted with flying due to this.

Example of wing shape:

Nightwings:

A mind-reader's silver scales can vary in shape and number, the most common amount of scales next to their eyes being between 1 and 3, though they can have as many as 5 or 6. This depends on how strong their powers are, and there can be an increase in number as their powers get stronger.

All nightwings have very faint patterns similar to a panther on their main scales.

Example of pattern:

Rainwings

A rainwing's frill can vary in size and number of points, the common number being 3-5. Their frill raises when they're angry or in a defensive pose, similar to the Jurassic Park adaptation of the dilophosaurus.

Example of frill, less exaggerated for rainwings:

Icewings

The spines on an icewing's back are an indication of age. They are born with little to no spines, and as they mature, more grow in over time. An ancient icewings, though rarely living that long, have manes of spines that trail down to their chests, giving them an intimidating look.

Their blood varies in shades of blue, bluish green, and purple.

Skywings

The wingspan of a skywing's wing is twice the length of it's body. This gives them excellent mobility, but also makes them bigger targets in the air.

In rare cases, firescaled skywing's can have the ability to "turn off" their firescales at will. This is never spoken of because the skywing tribe did not want any possibility of hope for the firescaled bloodlines.

Sandwings

A sandwing tail barb can vary in size and shape, some shapes being more efficient with their abilities than others.

Many sandwings have the patterns of common desert animals, such as the cheetah, hyena, jackal, or addax.

Example of patterns:

Leafwings

Leafwings are distinguished by the leaf shapes on their tail, spines, and wings. These shapes vary by the types of leaves they resemble.

Their scales turn different shades with the passing seasons. This helps them camouflage into the trees when they turn different colors. When the leaves of their trees fall during autumn and winter, the scales of the leafwings' turn dark shades of brown to blend in with tree bark and the dirt.

Going off of that theory about the winter season, leafwings tend to create burrows underground during winter and hibernate until spring because the tree leaves they live in are not around during this time.

Hivewings

Many hivewings need glasses because their vision is quite poor for dragon standards. This is because their sight is similar to that of a bee's.

The wings of a hivewings are quite thin. Though they are strong when flying from hive to hive, they do not hold well during severe storms.

Silkwings

Silkwings have a prehensile tail, quite like rainwings. They use it to hang from trees and other structures during their metamorphosis.

When a silkwing emerges from its cocoon, their wings need time to dry, just like butterflies and moths. If this process is not done correctly, the wings will suffer permanent damage.

#wings of fire #wof #wings of fire headcanons #wof headcanon #wof dragons #wings of fire dragons

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uncharismatic-fauna · 4 months

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The Evergreen Bagworm Moth: The Ultimate Stay-At-Home Mom

The evergreen bagworm moth or common basket worm (Thyridopteryx ephemeraeformis) has one of the more unusual life cycles of the order Lepidoptera. They begin their lives as part of a clutch of 500-1,000 eggs, laid in September or October, and hatch the following April. While they're still caterpillars, both males and females begin constructing large, elaborately decorated cocoons from silk and fecal matter, as well as bits of leaves and bark from their host plant. This case is built around their bodies as they feed, growing up to 6 cm (2.3 in) in length, and is eventually attached to directly to the host plant. The caterpillar molts through seven instars without ever leaving this case, and when it's large enough the larva seals itself inside and pupates for about 4 weeks.

Fully mature adults emerge from their cocoons in mid-August. While males finally leave behind their protective cases entirely. However, females remain firmly entrenched in their cocoons, and emit pheromones to attract a mate. Once a male arrives, he inserts his abdomen into the cocoon's entrance to inseminate the female. After laying her eggs, the female dies, never having left the protective case that she built for herself. Once her eggs hatch, they disperse along the same host plant or "balloon" on strands of silk to find a new home. Individuals only live a single year.

Adult evergreen bagworm moths are fairly plain, though males and females are easily distinguished. Males are covered with dark brown or black fur, with comb-like antennae typical of moths. Unusually, though, male T. ephereraeformis have transparent wings; these can reach a wingspan of 2.5 cm (0.9 in). Female adult basket worms largely resemble the larvae of the species. They lack wings, as well as eyes, antennae, or a mouth. Her body is about 1.9-2.3 cm (0.74-0.9 in) long, yellowish, and extremely soft and unprotected-- hence the need for a strong cocoon.

While neither sex feeds as adults, caterpillar common basket moths are voracious eaters. Their primary food are evergreens, especially junipers, arborvitae, and red cedar, but they can also be found on a variety of other trees including oaks, willows, maple and elm. The most common predators of the evergreen bagworm moth are wasps and hornets, which are able to more easily infiltrate their protective casings, but both adults and caterpillars may also fall prey to woodpeckers, mice, and sparrows.

This particular species of bagworm moth is common throughout eastern North America, particularly in areas with mixed or evergreen forests. The common basket worm can also thrive in urban environments, as there tend to be fewer predators to control their populations.

Conservation status: The evergreen bagworm moth has not been evaluated by the IUCN. Due to its large and widespread population, the species is likely stable; in many areas it is considered a pest due to the rapid rate at which a population can decimate the local vegetation.

If you like what I do, consider leaving a tip or buying me a kofi!

Photos

Dave Webb

Ben Gruver via iNaturalist

Barbara Speckart

#evergreen bagworm moth #common basket moth #Lepidoptera #Psychidae #bagworm moths #moths #lepidopterids #insects #arthropods #evergreen forest arthropods #mixed forest arthropods #urban arthropods #north america #eastern north america #animal facts #biology #zoology

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gingerhastoomanyobsessions · 9 months

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Sphingidae moth propoganda!!!

my favorite moth family because it just DOES NOT MISS. every single moth this family puts out is a win. contains such wonderful creatures as

the white-lined sphinx, which is about the size and shape of a hummingbird and hovers in midair to sippy from flowers

the elephant hawkmoth, which is colored like a frickin pokemon

the poplar sphinx moth, amongst which gynandromorphs are unusually common (intersex moths!), as pictured here

the oleander hawkmoth, which looks like someone spilled green and purple paint all over it and eats mostly poisonous plants

the gardenia bee hawkmoth, who imitated a bee so hard that their wings are clear and they got fuzzy butt pompoms

the narrow-bordered bee hawkmoth, who is doing much better at looking like a bee

the willow herb hawkmoth, who looks so. perfectly green. love this thing

the levant hawkmoth, who’s got a sleek rose gold type coloration

the eyes pink and green hawkmoth. the silhouette, the colors, the pattern. no notes

and of course, everyone’s favorite…

the delightfully goth death’s head hawkmoth

this little dude may be the icon of spooky fans everywhere but he also can bark!

many more lovely sphinx moths exist, and they can be found worldwide, so go. look up your local sphinxes. plant their favorite foods. and tell them you love them.

this message was brought to you by autism

#bugs #moths #sphinx moth #deaths head hawk moth

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theanoninyourinbox · 3 months

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New Longstar AU - Decorations and accessories

Clan Decorations and Traditions behind them

The Clans are wild and colorful, and their traditional decorations and accessories are the one facet of Clan Culture that can usually identify a cat’s Clan from a distance. It can be worn as a personal statement, as a hunting aid, and as armor in some cases.

Origins

The first recorded cat to decorate their fur was Bumble, a molly who joined Proto-Thunderclan to escape her abusive mate. She wove flowers around her collar to mask it and muffle the jingle of the bell. Her friend Turtle Tail then put petals on her own fur in solidarity, and then Thunder himself wore petals on his tail, and it spiraled from there. With the passing moons, each clan began to tailor their accessories to their tastes, environment, and Roles. Bumble was also the first recorded Crafter of the Clans, and lived out the rest of her days in relative peace, teaching others how to weave and create.

Placement

The common placements of decorations are behind the ears, on the neck and shoulders, the back and flanks, and the tail. Feathers behind the ears are taboo, for reasons no one in the Clans can remember. Less common are the legs, face, and underbelly, as these would interfere with duties, the senses, and resting.

Healers

Moth Flight was the first Seer to decorate her fur, but the moth’s wing behind her ear never withered, and the heather was always in bloom. Ever since, Healers have had plants from their clan in their fur, that do not fade or fall. Each cat chooses their own decoration, but there are some general similarities from each Clan.

Thunderclan Healers generally choose leaves on their head and shoulders, Windclan wears an insect wing behind the ear and flower buds on the back, Riverclan has reeds and river weeds on their flanks and tail, and Shadowclan healers always have deathberries with whatever thorny vines or leaves they choose. (Ancient Skyclan chose white flowers and the leaves of the tallest tree in their territory. Modern Skyclan wear Leaf-fall leaves and collars of moss and berries)

Thunderclan

The most common accessories for everyday wear are leaves, full flower blossoms, and petals. Berry paint is used specifically for Ceremonial purposes and Gatherings, to show the fertility and abundance of their territory. Tree bark is applied to fighters when they go to war, as an added layer of protection. Plucked fur is gathered as well, but only for Leaders and to line nests in Leafbare. About half of the clan uses everyday accessories.

Shadowclan

With only a few cats currently feeling comfortable expressing themselves as Shadowclan cats after current events, this Clan has the fewest cats that decorate themselves. Most décor is for hunting and Gatherings. Formerly, dry leaves and mushrooms were the norm, with glowing mushrooms being prized. Mud is applied to Hunters, Trackers, and Brawlers before they leave the camp, and those headed to war will also paint themselves with berry juices to look more ferocious. Items left on the territory or on the borders by Twolegs can be worn as trophies at Gatherings, but currently this is not done. Blame Tiger”star” and Bloodclan for that.

Riverclan

The bounties of the river and the shore are used by Riverclan. Flowers found floating in the water, river weeds and cattail reeds, and rarely, shells and shining pebbles are worn woven into larger works. Reeds and river grasses are woven into fine decorations and armor for battle, and fish bones are attached to armor and Leader Gathering Garb only. As decorations easily get detached and float away, not many Riverclan cats wear everyday accessories.

Windclan

A feather from the first catch is always worn by Windclan cats, for it is seen as lucky. Cats that do not hunt (support roles and Healers) are bequeathed a feather either by their Leader, a family member, or a mate. Woven grasses are common, both as everyday wear and armor. Tunnelers wore moss on their backs to shield themselves from falling rocks, but that practice has slowly died out, with Elders and a few cats continuing it. Nearly all cats in Windclan have everyday accessories.

Ancient Skyclan

Historical Records show that Skyclan wore feathers on their tails and flanks most commonly, with leaves and flowers around the neck. It is unclear from records if there was any significance to the placement or type of décor.

(Modern Skyclan keeps their collars, sometimes weaving mosses and flowers and berries into them to muffle them. More traditional clan accessories are folded in, and scavenged items are very common as well)

(all the new cats are unidentified cats from the first arc! thanks @moths-wc-aus!)

#my art #warrior cats #warriors #warrior cats au #warrior cats design #warrior cats designs #hello from the void #longstar AU #new Longstar AU #decorations and accessories #with art!#thunderclan #shadowclan #riverclan #Windclan #ancient skyclan #modern skyclan #lil spoiler for modern skyclan

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allthemarrowoflife · 9 months

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listen listen listen i know that most people who are not endgame jily are endgame jegulus because my boy james potter became obsessed with the same two people at 12 years old and never changed his mind

but what if he. didn't. like sure, if lily or reg told him to bark he'd go "woof" cause he's gone for people who are mean to him.

but he's james fucking potter. i refuse to believe he never dated anyone else.

SO HERE'S MY PROPOSITION

lily starts hanging out with this slytherin girl, pandora lovegood, they're girlfriends, and along comes pandora's queerplatonic partner, xeno, a ravenclaw.

and james looks at this person, all long white blond hair and big blue eyes who's always saying some weird shit about creatures no one's ever heard about before, who wears flowy skirts even when people make fun of them and too many necklaces and big earrings and whose patronus is apparently a fucking moth and goes "i've only had xeno for a day but if anything happened to them i would kill everyone in this room and then myself"

no one even knows their surname, only pandora, because mcgonnagal never calls them anything other than "xenophilius" just like she only ever calls sirius "sirius", so james figures there must be something going on there and that only makes him more invested cause my man never met a fucked up person he didn't want to fix.

he starts hanging out with xeno even when pandora is not around and waves at them across the halls and listens dutifully while they rent about nargles or something, mind wandering about how the sunlight hits their hair just right and makes it shine in gold or how the blue of their eyes matches the early spring skies (he's sappy like that, leave him alone)

the other marauders are slowly freaking out about this cause james is bringing this person over to the common room and helping then look for their shoes and SINCE WHEN IS JAMES POTTER EVER INTERESTED IN ANYONE OUTSIDE OF THEIR INNER CIRCLE.

meanwhile, james is freaking out himself. he really likes xeno and would like to ask them out but he's in a queerplatonic relationship with pandora? so maybe that means he's not interest in romantic relationships? and does james even care if it's romantic or not at this point if that means xeno will hold his hand and blush when he smiles at them from the qudditch pitch?

but because he is james fucking potter, he does what he always does. jumps in with no plan whatsoever and hopes for the best.

"hey, xeno, listen. i would really like to take you to hogsmead this weekend. it doesn't have to be a date, i don't even know if you're comfortable with doing The Dating so i won't imply this is us doing The Dating, but maybe we could just talk and maybe..."

and then xeno asks to kiss him (jamespotter.exe has stopped working) and promptly says that just because they don't do The Dating with pandora, it doesn't mean they can't do The Dating with someone else.

lily and pandora are watching from behind a pillar and giggling triumphantly. this was their plan all along.

#marauders era #marauders headcanon #slytherin skittles #james potter #xenophilius lovegood #pandora lovegood #lily evans #pandalily #marauders #the valkyries

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redux-iterum · 2 months

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Two naming questions here as someone taking inspiration from your expanded version of the traditional naming system for a few fanclans in other locations:

When it came to making additions to the existing ailuronomy prefix list, how did you go about picking what to exclude or include? I’m curious what your process was in regards to things like animals or plants named directly after human concepts or just after the latin name of their genus, words with 5+ syllables, just prefixes that technically work but sound clunky or unnatural when rolling off the tongue in general.

For prefixes that could potentially encompass a lot of colours (Prefixes like Moth-, Moss-, or Beetle- where there are a bunch of different species with wildly varying colours, or tree-based prefixes where you could be referencing the colour of several things like the bark, the flowers, or the fruit), how do you go about deciding which colour to categorize it under? Is it just a matter of what’s the most recognizable?

While Grey's parameters make for good guidelines, a lot of it can boil down to Your Mileage May Vary.

Compound words are especially this. Definitely don't include things that are compound words that end with a suffix in your lineup, such as Coltsfoot or Strawberry. Some will argue against having Mistletoe- being a prefix, but Mistle- and -toe being a prefix and suffix respectively is dumb, because you're essentially saying "piss-twig", and -toe is a dumb suffix the point of suffixes is flexibility and I am getting off-topic reining this thought back in. You could likely get away with Goldenrodpaw and Rainbowpaw, but I doubt you could get away with Sparrowhawkpaw or Horseradishpaw. Something about the latter two hit different.

For prefixes with over five syllables, I'd advise against it. Four syllables is probably the most you could get away with. Dandelion-, Salamander-, Amanita-, you're running out of space there. Salamanderflower and Amanitawhisker are gonna be a pain to write over and over and over again.

Some prefixes that are human-ish in feel are really hard to disassociate, such as Phoebe- (a bird), so again, YMMV.

For the wide berth of colors, just go with whatever is the most common example in the territory. Most moths are brown or gray or white, so that'll do. Beetles are usually black or brown too, so just focus on like, the really common varieties. If the bug is somewhat uncommon, disregard it for the most part. Maybe have one cat pop up every few generations with the color befitting the moth.

For tree prefixes, it usually depends on its most defining feature(s). Maples and rowans blaze red in the autumn, so they get thrown in the ginger category. Laburnum, wisteria, and cherry have beautiful flowers. Plums, junipers, and oaks have funny fruits and nuts. Larches and pines have their unique needles. And alders and birches have distinctive barks. If all else fails, check their flower or bark, and run with brown.

#ask #anonymous #prefixes #lynx #editor

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crevicedwelling · 11 months

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Odd little question, but recently thinking over my dislike for a certain zoo game's roster had me making up my own zoo game and thinking about what animals I would pick. Making up games in my head is basically a hobby for me at this point so nothing that'll come to fruition, just some fun. I specifically want to focus largely on animals that can be found in zoos at least somewhat regularly and are actually feasible to keep in captivity. But my wheelhouse is absolutely more vertebrate-based, and my local zoo's invert section focuses just on my country which is of limited help here. In your opinion what are some particularly iconic and/or common inverts to find in zoos? In particular inverts you'd love to see represented in a zoo game!

I find the majority of US zoo or museum insectariums to house the same rather dull 15 or so species of bugs (I am probably being very unfair to these trusty captive species here).

Madagascan hissing cockroaches, jungle nymph stick insects, Atlas moths, lubber grasshoppers, generic big brown tarantula (probably Lasiodora), a immobile big black scorpion (Heterometrus or Pandinus) under UV of course, some sort of large scarab, a big millipede, and a basic large mantis are some overly familiar faces I saw many times in as a kid who loved museum insectariums.

I say mix things up a little, and go for something like huntsman spiders, diving beetles, terrestrial crabs, velvet worms, colorful isopods, bark/twig/flower mantises, giant snails, antlions, tiger beetles… all quite possible to maintain at a zoo

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cloverpatches · 2 months

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Alder moths burrow into soft bark to cocoon within a tree, emerging in merely a day.

There are numerous types of alder moths, but the most common are black and white moths or those of vibrant reddish oranges.

#fun sketches to just have a chill day #pokemon #pokemon black and white #pokemon alder #pokemon bw

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secret-bug-pain-blog · 3 months

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@febuwhump Day 4 - Obedience

World's Most Dysfunctional Vessel Gets Ass Kicked By A God(?), Deals With It Extremely Normally And Functionally, More At 5.

The Hollow Knight was not made to have a mind.

Of Void, Root, and King, it was crafted. To serve, to protect, to seal the Old Light. With its sacrifice, the kingdom would be made safe. With its death, the Light would be fully extinguished.

A duty it has already failed.

Its body is broken and pock-pitted with the effort of containing Her wrath. It has faced its purpose, and it has failed- and even the merciful princess of Hallownest, as kind as she has been, cannot fully repair it.

And then she had left, and left it to decay and ponder on its own shortcomings.

It was made to obey its Father- to obey the King, the Ruler of Hallownest- and yet, it cannot even serve to fulfil a purpose that is all that it has.

Hallownest is fallen. Its inhabitants are gone. Its father is dead. The Old Light is gone from its captivity, the cage at the back of its mind gone empty. It is alone, or so close to alone that it is indistinguishable from true loneliness.

It does not feel lonely, no matter how much the idea might cross a lesser bug's mind.

It has no thought. It has no voice. It was made for its purpose, never to stray, never to deviate. It was crafted with no mind and no soul, divine purpose bestowed upon it for a reason- and now, that purpose is gone, and only the husk of a divine beast remains.

It is a failure. The only question that remains is who will repurpose its body, once it has spent all that it is.

It sits. It waits. It remains obedient.

Its sister, gods-knows-how-long ago, had ordered it to guard Hallownest in her stead. It had obeyed best it can, but it was difficult even then - its body was worn and decayed from its time in the Black Egg, and had only rotted further since, the strain taking a toll on its slowly-breaking shell.

Being of void granted it durability. Far beyond that of a normal bug, yes, beyond even that of most demigods - but not an unlimited amount.

It had bowed at the claws of the Old Light. It had nearly broken at the claws of the many intruders, warded by its scarred muzzle. Now, it threatens to shatter in the face of the wear of time.

It is aging. It is tired. Its shell is worn and splintered, threatening to break at the mere touch of an intruder. It struggles to stand straight-backed, weight of its horns dragging it right back down again. It is so, so, very exhausted, and all it wishes to do is rest.

It is not so tired as to disobey the Princess's last orders. But it is worn enough to fear it will break, should it stand for much longer.

Or that it will break, should it dare stand against this visitor.

The moth standing before it is familiar. A pale cream color, shot through with gleaming goldenrod where Her fur is shortest. The shade of Her fluff strikes a familiar bell, the look of disdain She levels towards it even more so. The wasteland beast at Her side is unfamiliar, but it supposes it would be foolish to assume She would not garner new followers, once unleashed.

It should have known She did not die.

When it proved resilient against Her, it should have only been common sense to realize that She would have been much the same. If it had not suffocated Her light, then an impure Vessel taking a child's form would have no chance.

The moth levels a glare at it and barks something sharp, clapping Her hands - it does not know the language, but it knows a command when it hears it.

She is expecting to be obeyed, no doubt. Expecting it to bow to Her, as it did during their imprisonment. It should disobey.

It... is not certain it can disobey.

It should not listen, it knows, not to her, but it is tired, it is worn, it is-It wants, so very badly, to finally have some drive more than to guard, set to this eternal post until its body finally gives out.

She turns to address Her companion, disdain and dismissal clear on Her face. The wasteland beast tilts its head at the Hollow Knight, clearly inquisitive. It does not understand what it is that it is looking at.

It is listening. Even if it does not understand.

She turns to address Her companion, and it begins the slow, painful process of dragging itself to its feet. Its claws scrape on the stone, aggravating pains it did not know it had. Its shoulders burn with the exertion as it pulls itself up by the nail, its claws straining on the hilt as it forces itself to stand. Injuries nearly forgotten make themselves known, burning across its shoulders, its arms, its claws. It leans on the blade far more than it would want, putting weight on its still-broken tip as it struggles to straighten its back under the weight of its own body, of the broken metal that remains from its bonds, of the many battles it has fought since being instated as guardian.

It stands at attention, no more than a single second before gravity gets the better of it. The Moth's conversation with Her attention stalls for a single second as She watches it rise, her claw frozen mid-gesture.

This new body of Hers is so terribly small, compared to it. It wonders, for a brief moment, if it could overpower Her - but it has tasted Her dream-blades before, and it knows all too well how deadly the residents of the Waste have proven, bug and beast alike.

It knows it will lose, if it moves against Her. It know it will die, if it is to lose a fight.

It raises its blade.

It will make an effort. It will prove that it tried. Perhaps then, it may hope to claim some greater dignity than that of a fallen husk.

Her new incarnation is not as hasty to use magic as it expects. It has fought a thousand battles with Her over the course of Her imprisonment, and this form of Her follows nothing it is used to- it has grown presumptuous, battling the same handful of bodies, and this one takes it by surprise.

Her diminutive size conceals strength far beyond its expectations. It makes its first blunder when it attempts to get close enough to force Her on the defensive, and She simply allows its blade to sink into Her ruff, kicking it in the chest with enough force that it feels its shell waver when it overbalances in surprise.

This form, it seems, is a physical fighter. It is too late to correct its mistake when it realizes the blunder. The wastelands beast makes up for Her lack of range, fluttering around its attacks with ease and sticking daggers through any gap in its guard that it can find as She punishes its attempts to disengage, weaponizing Her cries into an ear-rattling pitch that would surely tear the auditory membranes of a mortal bug and threatens to rattle apart its Void with no regard for structure of shell.

It lasts longer than it had expected. But it cannot stand against a god.

It collapses with a wheeze, the frail shell over its Void threatening to split apart. She kicks it a last time, a heavy impact in the middle of its thorax, staring down on its broken body as she sneers. The language she speaks down to it in is incoherent, but it still understands the idea of what she says.

It has lost.

Her tone turns sickly sweet as she addresses it, beckoning it away from its post. Her claws hook, hook in the back of its mind, entirely too persuasive for what it knows her to be.

It knows it should not obey. It knows it should guard its kingdom.

…it has been ever so long since it has seen anyone that it could not fight, and Hornet has been away so long it fears she will never return.

It moves its head to Her hand, baring its throat for Her to take Her tribute. It has failed again. She will take Her right of conquest, and it will die, as it already should have when She broke her prison. It knows it should not think, but something of it thinks it would be happy with that ending, were it a thing with emotions.

The expected blade does not come.

Her hand cups around its face, pulling its head up ever so softly. Her voice grows more insistent, Her demands repeated over as She looks it in the ink-black eyes of its mask. She pets along its mandibles, clucking Her tongue as She attempts to pull it away from its post.

It doesn't understand.

The wasteland beast curls around Her shoulder, speaking something in that unknown tongue, and She brushes it off, continuing to coo to it as if it is a stray pet.

It doesn't understand.

Why would She keep it alive? Why would She not kill it on the spot - it is the prison that contained Her for years, the thing that She voiced her malcontent and tested her blades against for centuries - why would She spare it now, after however long trapped together? Why would She wish to keep it around?

She beckons it away from its post again, and it leans where She guides, this time. She cooes as if it were a hunting-beast praised for bringing back Mosscreep, stroking its splintered horns and beckoning again.

It obeys. It realizes, perhaps too late, that it has allowed Her passage, moving its bulk from the path She was trying to access. Perhaps this is only more evidence of its impurity. Perhaps She simply wished to see it bend to Her one more time, before killing it.

But She does not strike again. She does not unsheathe claws to carve into its softened underbelly, She does not call Light to pierce through its fragile void-shell, She does not command her waste-beast companion rip it asunder. She simply pets it on the horns, her head turning off into the ruins of Hallownest as if it does not even warrant her gaze.

It...

Perhaps She simply wishes to humiliate it. Perhaps this is all that it was ever worth to Her - a momentary battle, a step along her road, an inconvenience soon to be dealt with.

A pained wheeze escapes its throat, air whistling through broken anatomy. The wasteland beast stares at it as if it is a beast in a zoo, as if its body is something wholly alien to it. To a wasteland beast, it supposes, it would be.

It says something to the Moth, and She pauses, if momentarily, in Her attentions to it, speaking to Her beast without regard for the Knight dying in her claws, one hand absently cupped about where its mandibles connect to its muzzle, and it sits, silent as it is meant to be, as She converses with Her creature.

Finally, she stops. She beckons it upwards, heedless of its pain. It takes several long moments for it to garner the energy to raise its head, even when it is commanded.

She gestures to the Wastes. To the long way out of Hallownest. And it...

It knows it should not be obeying. It knows that it should not be listening to the Old Light.

But it is not worthy for the duty that it has been set to. Not anymore.

It is Her right of conquest, it reasons to itself. And it is not the place of a vessel to question what a god would ask of it.

A trickle of Void flows from its failing body as it drags itself to its feet once more, nearly every part of itself straining in a threat to fall apart. It holds itself together through will and nothing more, receiving an approving coo from Her. The wasteland beast moves to support it as She gestures it towards the exit - out of Hallownest, out into the mind-killing wastes.

It is so tired. It wants to rest.

She guides it towards the wastes, just the slightest bit more insistent this time, and it moves, regardless.

The Hollow Knight was not made to have a mind. It will not attempt to fight against the choices of its betters.

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