#Glorious Scarab Beetle

[thegorgonist]

Beetle Fairy October 12, 13, and 14 are the Glorious Scarab Beetle, Imperial Tortoise Beetle, and the Punctured Diving Beetle!

[herpsandbirds]

Pennantwings.

I never even knew these birds existed until I saw them on THIS blog. I've been around awhile and love birding. However, I need to know more about these birds as they look like they should not even be able to fly!

Pennantwings:

I believe you're talking about Pennant-winged Nightjars. They are glorious birds!

Pennant-winged Nightjar (Caprimulgus vexillarius), male, family Caprimulgidae, order Caprimulgiformes, northern Zimbabwe

photographs by Richard Crawshaw

Pennant-winged Nightjars (Caprimulgus vexillarius), males, family Caprimulgidae, order Caprimulgiformes, Dem. Rep. of Congo

photographs by Nigel Voaden 

Insectivorous, but scarab beetles are their main prey.

Nocturnal, like other nightjars.

The pennant feathers grow on the wings of males, and they fall off after the breeding season.

They nest and tend to roost on bare ground.

[onenicebugperday]

Which bugs have the longest adult stages? I found a source that said splendour beetles do, but showed a picture of a glorious scarab. Couldn't find much more than that

Splendour beetles can live a long time as larvae (25-30 years depending on conditions), but they are not long-lived as adults (2-5 months).

I don't think much could compare with queen termites that can live 10-25 years, and scientists think some can live as long as 50 years or more. Queen ants can have a similarly long lifespan of 20-30 years depending on species.

Some female tarantulas can live 20-30 years, but they don't reach sexual maturity (adulthood) until they're 5-8 years old iirc.

Then there are a whole host of bugs that can live ten years or more as adults including the blue death feigning beetles that people may be familiar with as well as many of the giant millipede species people keep as pets!

[vamprefaggot]

ms paint commissions

hiii ! are you interested in a silly drawing? do you yearn for a pixellated illustration of a bug? do you have $10 dollars you wanna give to a local punk fag for food money? commission me!!

(image descriptions in alt and under cut)

ill draw furries, nonhuman characters, bugs, nonsexual nudity, non-complicated mechs, pets, whatever, all for a flat price of ✨$10✨ !

(if you wanna properly commission me for sexual nudity or something else not on that list, thats absolutely on the table- but more expensive </3 but higher quality also)

if you're interested, shoot me a dm or an email at mothmanistrans@duck.com !

can do paypal, venmo, or cashapp <3

image descriptions under cut:

image one: a lineless drawing of a pink angelic being with four wings, a halo, and two mouths. it looks disgruntled.

image two: a saturated illustration of a glorious scarab beetle, on a dark blue background.

image three: a low resolution drawing of a blue angelic dog flying in the middle of the night sky over blue clouds. he has a halo, wings, and a yellow star at the end of its tail.

[pixelarthropods]

The one in middle is called Titan Beetle and it's one of the biggest beetle in the world! They grow up to 20 cm! Other 4 are called Ten Lined June, Glorious Scarab, Orange-banded Checkered and Big Sand Tiger Beetle!

I also made a speedpaint video of them how I'm creating them. I'm using mouse on program called aseprite. Hopefully that gives you idea how I'm doing this. Have a nice day! ^^

[milkforbrainsart]

Chrysina Gloriosa (glorious scarab) beetle! 🪲

[charring58]

#Chrysinagloriosa is a species of scarab whose common names are glorious beetle and glorious scarab. It is found only in southern

[wyverewings]

Day 4 of my Indigo Disk countdown!

So out of all Pokémon, my absolute most hated would be… Alolan Exeggutor. But the very close second would be Conkeldurr. Of all Pokémon, they are very easily the most absolutely fucking hideous of them all. Who the hell at Gamefreak thought an elderly clown bodybuilder was a good basis for a Pokémon design? Like the face is already bad, but those fucking huge, pink, bulging, veins make me feel sick to my stomach!

With that all said, why the hell would I catch a Rellor, a mon that’s pretty close aesthetically to Conkeldurr, for my team?

Well, first of all, Rellor being kinda gross looking is much more forgivable considering they’re a dung beetle. Y’know, the beetle that eats feces? Of course they’d not be pretty. But the main reason I caught one was for their absolutely amazing evolution.

Much unlike their previous form, Rabsca has an absolutely gorgeous design, from their metallic blue shell, to their lovely red face, to their glorious ’stache. Not only that, but they’re a psychic type! While this all might seem strange for a dung beetle, it actually makes a lot of sense if you know the symbolism of dung beetles in ancient Egypt.

You see, scarabs (a fancier name for dung beetles) were associated with the god Khepri (who is also the namesake of my Rabsca) in Egyptian religion. Khepri is the god of the early morning, with the task of rolling the sun across the sky. So scarabs that rolled dung across the ground were naturally the animals associated with him. Helping the symbolism is how scarabs have their larva inside the dung, and Khepri was the god of the morning, when the day is “young”, so scarabs were also associated with rebirth!

And that aspect just so happens to be incorporated in Rabsca’s lore, as instead of a ball of dung, they now carry around some kind of psychic orb, with a larva inside! The Pokédex even implies that the larva is the true source of Rabsca’s consciousness, as the body is now apparently lifeless, only carrying the larva around. So we have a Pokémon that evolves into their own offspring, which is such a bizarre yet compelling concept! With as little bias as possible, Rabsca is a strong contender for one of the best concepts for a Pokémon yet.

I couldn’t think of any fun pose this time, sorry. Khepri’s just vibing in some desert with a Gimmighoul and Orthworm in the background. But I did think to put the sun visible in the sky, just as a little reminder of the fascinating inspiration behind this mon!

[aquietlifesblog]

Ravening Wolves (Dio x F!Reader) 12/?

"When it's all over," he breathes, "when I stand supreme, and am no longer a slave to fate... I shall show you heaven..."

OR

At long last, the time has come to set your grand scheme in motion: the elimination of Jotaro Kujo and Dio's glorious resurrection. The Age of Heaven is near, and you won't let the Joestars stop you—no matter how hard they fight. You've defied fate and death for Dio. Perhaps one day you'll tell him how you feel. A sequel to 'Hungry Eyes.'

Read on AO3

First Chapter | Masterlist |

Chapter 12: Through the Grapevine

Time moves at a snail's pace, and for once you're eager for the end of the night. But the clock reads 2:28 am, and you've little else to do but read.

The library here is small yet terribly organized, as the previous owner valued aesthetics over coherency. A pity that consideration didn't carry into the bed chambers. Yet still, after a while, beneath the glow of a warm yellow lamp and framed prints of famous paintings, you begin to feel serene. Your prior conversation with Dio drifts to the back of your mind as you gaze upon a leatherbound book, its facade dyed blue and white. 'An Introduction to Law: Volume I,' the indented gold letters read. There is no volume II or III. 

"What a waste," you muse, as a wistful smile graces your face.

A century ago, when humanity still coursed through your veins, Dio allowed you to read his textbooks and essays.

The Victorian age wasn't kind to women like you—the era was unkind to anyone who fell outside the bounds of 'high society’—so the words within those pages were a cherished escape.

Now, as you turn the pages, nostalgia washes over you like a gentle wave. Your frustrations with Dio momentarily fade as you lose yourself in memories of those late nights.

It was the kitchen maid who helped you learn to read after your mother died, believing you would make a better scullery if you could follow a recipe and fetch a list of groceries. Of course, you didn't stop there. You remember snatching Erina's school books from the table, then the novels from Lord Pendleton's desk. You kept a small dictionary beneath your threadbare mattress and used it to decipher terms you didn't understand.

You remember meeting with Dio behind that old abandoned barn, demanding he share everything he knew. And despite his scoffs and eye rolls, Dio rarely denied you. He loved to hear himself talk, after all, and you loved to listen, to understand. Dio gave you what the world denied, and you won't ever forget that, no matter how annoying he can be. 

You smile, but your attention is stolen by the sound of footsteps in the hall.

"Vanilla Ice!" your voice rings out, halting him just outside the doorway. "Come, come. Take a moment to sit with me, won't you?" With a graceful shift, you make room upon the plush navy loveseat.

"I cannot. Lord DIO has given me a task," he responds with a nod.

"A task?" You repeat. "What kind of assignment has Dio given you? Perhaps I'll come along." 

“I cannot say and you cannot tag along." 

"Oh?" Your head tilts to the side, intrigued by his secrecy. A moment of silence passes between you before you smile once again, a mischievous glint in your eyes.

"Are you certain you want to assist Dio tonight? Wouldn't you prefer to spend the evening with me?" You suggest, adopting a low, flirtatious tone. "We could stay here and read together, or perhaps take a stroll along a secluded beach. I could even help you catch a few beetles here and there. What was it you were so keen on, another rainbow scarab?" 

Vanilla Ice says nothing, though a subtle look of exasperation underlines his stoic features. 

"No," he replies, blunt and unyielding.

Feigning disappointment, you let out a dramatic sigh. 

"You're breaking my heart, Ice. "

"That's rather unfortunate," he retorts, and you laugh. 

"Very well; I'll patiently await your return, anticipating tales of the grand adventure you took without me," you lean back, relaxing into your chair. "And then perhaps when you return—"

He's already gone by the time you look up, and the dim halls echo with your laughter as he disappears into the night.

Vanilla Ice, cloaked in the shadow of the night, arrives at the hotel, just as unpleasant as DIO said it would be. Cream renders his movements unseen as he floats above the patrons and the colorful furniture, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

As he searches for his target, he observes a mother take a photo of her child near the replica spacesuit, a couple becoming cozy at the bar, and a group of friends clinking their glasses together in celebration of a divorce that recently took place. He never liked such crowded places. He was always too bulky, too tall to disappear into a crowd. Someone would always try to speak with him, though they rarely had interesting things to say. Places like this are a breeding ground for pests, he thinks, which is how he knows Midler is there. 

It doesn't take much time to spot her, clad in a bright yellow dress amongst a group of rowdy 20-somethings. He follows her throughout the night, though time seems to drag on. Had Lord DIO not told him not to draw attention, he would have snatched her away from the group.

At some point, everyone cheers as an elderly waitress emerges with a round of colorful drinks, and the 20-somethings decide to leave for another bar. Midler isn't invited to join them. One even calls her 'miss' as he thanks her for the fun night. 

He notices Mariah, waving Midler over, seated with Kenny G across the bar. But, for some reason, Midler denies her. 

So Finally— finally—he finds the perfect moment to strike. Midler takes the elevator to her room and sways down the narrow halls, disgruntled because she'll be spending the night alone. After fishing for her key, she swings the door open and steps inside. 

It's a sizable room with soft white carpet, a queen-sized bed, and a navy couch adorned with plush purple pillows. There's nothing particularly wrong with the room, but he recalls Midler's fondness for unnecessary luxury. 

With a sigh, she goes to close the door but stumbles, unsteady on her feet as she kicks away her heels. She moves to try again but Vanilla Ice steps into the doorframe behind her.

Despite her inebriated state, Midler summons High Priestess by instinct as she whips around to face him, but Cream is already there, ready by his side. 

"Vanilla Ice," she addresses him with disdain, despite the tangible fear in her eyes. "To…to what do I owe the pleasure?" She attempts nonchalance, leaning against the popcorn wall as High Priestess slips inside. Vanilla Ice catches the subtle movement, and Cream moves in closer, its cold breath chilling Midler's face.

"You have become a nuisance," Vanilla Ice repeats the words DIO told him.  

Midler, sensing the gravity of the situation, thinks carefully about her response. Her heart thunders in her chest, beating like drums of war, but her nervousness cedes as a realization hits her, and her lips pull into a cocky smirk. 

"So I was right about where he lives?" she speaks, but Vanilla Ice remains unamused. He will not allow Midler’s delusions to keep him from his task.

"Lord DIO's patience runs thin, as does mine. What do you want, woman?" Vanilla Ice asks, his voice cold.

"He gave me a special mission," she declares with unwarranted conviction. His rejection, she thinks, was a mere test—a trial designed to gauge her dedication and determination to earn his forgiveness. "Once I fulfill it, he will take me back. You can't hurt me, Vanilla Ice. I have a purpose from Lord DIO...he would never leave me with nothing." 

As she speaks, Vanilla Ice thinks back to the countless men and women who fell victim to DIO's seductive allure. He reveled in the desperation of people like Midler. He took pleasure in humiliating them, in making them perform in ways that pleased him. He used their bodies for pleasure and sustenance and discarded them once he was done. Then the next fool would appear, each convinced their fate would be different, that they were the exception as they trod across a line of corpses, their bodies still warm.

Some nights, Lord DIO would invite Vanilla Ice to join him, to revel in the hedonistic symphony of the night. The partners didn’t matter, not really, because he knew they’d be dead by dawn’s light, that he would be the only one left at his Lord DIO's side. 

He never pitied them. No. He hated the fools who dared to think they were anything more than a means to an end.  Midler is like the others, he thinks, a pathetic fool unaware of how inconsequential her status was before his Lord. 

"You will not show your face before Lord DIO until he demands it.” He declares, fixing Midler with a deadly stare. “Lord DIO has all he needs. Do not forget your place." 

“My place?” She repeats narrowing her eyes. “What makes you think you're any better than me? Everyone knows you're just a lapdog, fetching whatever scraps Lord DIO throws your way.  Don't delude yourself into thinking you're special," Midler hisses, and her every word drips with venom, a venom that does nothing but melt away his stoic facade. He doesn't say a single word as his thinly veiled restraint snaps. Vanilla Ice lunges forward with a speed that catches her off guard.

High Priestess, still merged into the wall, reveals itself with a menacing glare, its teeth bared in silent warning. Vanilla Ice, however, doesn’t care.

He doesn’t even call upon Cream. 

With a single motion, he grabs Midler by the hair. His fingers tighten around her long, silky strands before he throws her back against the wall on the other side of the room. A full-body mirror threatens to collapse as the impact resonates through the room with a sickening crack. Her defiant expression wavers, replaced by a mixture of shock and pain as Vanilla Ice stands above her, his foot digging into her side. The dim light cast distorted shadows over his features, emphasizing the points of his teeth and the violent intent behind his eyes.

He would kill her now, but that isn't what DIO wants. 

"You won't be warned again," Vanilla Ice threatens, his voice deep. He continues to glare as he beckons Cream forward.

He allows the Stand to envelop him whole and then, in a surge of incredible force, he bursts through the wall leaving a gaping hole and chaos in his wake. The broken wall and the havoc he leaves behind are inconsequential to him, however. All that matters is his mission; DIO's assurance that you retain your peace of mind.

-

Returning to the estate, Vanilla Ice is met with quiet surroundings, a stark contrast to the busy hotel. As he makes his way down the hall, Vanilla Ice passes by the library and his gaze is drawn to you, still lounging on the loveseat, engrossed in your were reading. 

You smile at Vanilla Ice as he stops by the entry, just where he was before. 

"Finished already?" you inquire, your attention never leaving the book in your hands. 

"I've completed my task for the evening," Vanilla Ice responds, and you instinctively shift on the loveseat. 

“Thank you.” 

Vanilla Ice’s brows furrow.  Puzzled by your gratitude, he settles on the belief that you're grateful for his measly company. Despite this, he senses there's more to your words, something he can't quite pinpoint.

Your gaze doesn't leave the pages of the book, however, but you can sense the shift in Vanilla Ice's demeanor. There's a subtle softening, a relaxation in the air that wasn't there before.

“I’m still free for that stroll through the garden,” you tease him, a playful glint in your eye. “Let's spend the night together.” 

"The beach," he corrects you. "Where you will assist me in the capture of beetles."

"Ah, you remember that part, do you?" 

"I won't forget," he informs you, an underlying threat in his voice, the type of threat only friends can share. "Though our night together will have to wait. That is if you're certain you can handle such a thrilling venture." He nods with mock formality and departs before you find a fitting retort to his unexpected humor. 

Reporting to DIO is his priority. 

However, as he traverses the familiar path to DIO's bedroom chambers, the echoes of your laughter fill his ears and his thoughts drift back to the day he learned of your existence.

The air was thick with the scent of incense, as he and DIO basked in the afterglow of sex. It was in that intimate moment that Dio chose to speak of you,  his words intertwined with a warmth Vanilla Ice never heard before. 

The mere mention of your name fueled a surge of worry and rage within him. He was ready to despise you, he did despise you, he despised all those who dared to encroach upon Dio's world—people like Pucci, Midler, Mariah, Hol Horse, Terrance D'arby— all those who failed to worship his Lord DIO sufficiently.

He despised you when you met, but time softened his perception. Your dedication to DIO and your drive to fulfill his goals was more than just commendable, it earned you his respect. And with you, there was none of the tension, resentment, or fear that soured his interactions with DIO’s other agents (barring, of course, Pet Shop,) you regarded him politely, gave him a new leg to stand on (quite literally,) and included him in all your scheming. 

And, perhaps most remarkably, is the simple fact that DIO truly adores you, that you have a special place in his world.

And if Lord DIO adores you, Vanilla Ice thinks, it's permissible for him to harbor such adoration as well.

But as he approaches DIO's chambers, Vanilla Ice pushes these thoughts aside.

He needs to report his success.

Dio doesn’t move. Seated on the bed as Vanilla Ice kneels before him, Dio turns the page of an old leatherbound book, a truly rare and interesting text that spoke to the real-life experience of the maidservants in the 1910s, painting a vivid picture of the isolation felt by the women and girls in the lowest rungs of society. 

"Vanilla Ice, how did you fare? Has Midler remembered her place?" He inquires. 

“Yes, Lord DIO.” Vanilla Ice recounts his 'conversation' with Midler, his words measured and precise. "I made it abundantly clear where she stands within your priorities. She now understands the consequences of overstepping your boundaries."

"You’ve done well, as always.”

“Thank you,” he nods, his unwavering loyalty evident with every breath. 

“I suppose we should discuss your reward, then.” Dio sets the book aside and regards Vanilla Ice with intrigue.

"My service to you is reward enough, Lord DIO. I require no further compensation." Dio, however, chuckles, and the magnificent sound echoes through the chamber. 

"You shall have whatever I wish to give you, or have you forgotten?" he smirks, a hint of mischief in his eyes. “You’ve more than earned a reward.” 

"As you wish, my Lord. Your will is my command." Vanilla Ice concedes with a deep bow. 

Dio, satisfied and amused, leans back, shifting his weight to a single muscular arm. 

"There's nothing wrong with wanting something for yourself, Ice. It's alright to desire," Dio watches as he absorbs his words.

Vanilla Ice, though unaccustomed to such notions, nods in acknowledgment. 

"If it is your will, Lord DIO."

"We shall see what desires unfold in the nights to come." 

As Josuke and Hol Horse emerge from the airport, they are immediately engulfed in the vibrant culture of the city. The air carries an enticing blend of scents—warm food, the rich aroma of espresso, and the gentle whisper of the sea-salt breeze. The streets pulsate with a lively hum of conversation, creating a song that fills the air. 

But as they make their way through the bustling crowd, Josuke collides with a darkly dressed boy with a mop of black hair, around 13 or 14 years old. He speaks in a soft voice and gestures towards their luggage, attempting to communicate. However, the language barrier becomes all too evident as both Josuke and Hol Horse exchange apologetic glances, incapable of understanding the boy's rapid-fire speech. 

"Sorry," Josuke begins in slow English, "we don’t speak Italian."

The boy looks at Josuke, green eyes narrowed slightly as though he’s seeing the older teen for the first time. 

Hol Horse looks between them both but refrains from speaking despite his desire to point out the uncanny resemblance between the two. He doesn’t want to appear…insensitive by suggesting all East Asian boys look alike. 

Unperturbed, the boy shrugs off the miscommunication and swiftly walks away. Josuke watches him leave before turning his attention toward the long line of tourists waiting for a taxi.  He hopes they accept American credit cards, he thinks as he slips both hands into his pockets, only to find that they are empty. 

A wave of realization crashes over him then – he's fallen victim to a pickpocket.

“What the hell?” 

Annoyance etches across Josuke's face as he thinks about that boy. He must have taken the arrow when he bumped into him, a classic scheme.

“We need to follow that kid!” Josuke squats down and tears into his luggage, ignoring the strange looks he receives from the people walking by. He searches for the broken pieces of the arrow's shaft, pieces he kept for this exact reason.

Before they went their separate ways, Polnareff suggested they both take a piece and that they try to break the arrowhead in two. 

“Just a piece of it should have the same effect,” he theorized. It was their way to ensure they could find one another once they got to Florida, as well as a means of survival should anything happen and they needed to summon the power of Requiem. He can’t allow it to fall into the hands of some petty thief.

Finding the broken pieces, he activates Crazy Diamond's restoration ability. Though even as he does, an odd sensation washes over him– an innate feeling that he can track the boy without the use of his Stand. 

Was it the arrow that called to him, or something different entirely? 

Strange feeling aside, Josuke and Hol Horse surge forward, sheer determination propelling them toward the heart of Naples.

The city sprawls out before them like a painting, a vibrant canvas of vendors, bikers, and easygoing crowds. Narrow streets wind through the city like an intricate maze, a labyrinth sheltered beneath flower-filled balconies and old buildings. Neither stop to notice the dark dealings in the shadows of the fair city.

Spotting the boy up ahead, Josuke extends Crazy Diamond's power, aiming to retrieve the stolen arrowhead. The boy, blissfully unaware of the invisible force working on his pocket, navigates the crowd with little urgency. However, when his power takes hold of his target, it's not the arrowhead he retrieved. Instead, a small turtle is sent soaring through the air.

Recoiling in disgust, Josuke releases his Stand's power, the turtle falls to the ground unharmed. 

"What the hell?" he exclaims, a mix of horror and repulsion etched across his face. Hol Horse, seizing the opportunity, scoops up the tiny turtle and examines it with a bemused expression that makes Josuke cringe. 

"Why in God's name did this little fella come flyin’ out?" Hol Horse asks him. 

“I don't know, but that thing might be dangerous!” Josuke takes a step away. 

“Well, you’re the one who brought it to us.” Hol Horse reminds him.

“There’s no way Crazy Diamond could mess this up!” Josuke exclaims. “Look, the arrowhead must be... somewhere in there,” Josuke mutters, gesturing toward the turtle warily. Questions swirl within his mind – did the turtle consume his half of the arrow? How could it have survived doing so? Was the turtle a stand user now? What sort of stand would it manifest? The bizarre possibilities leave Josuke’s mind unsettled. “What kind of freak keeps a turtle in his pocket anyway?”

“Give it a shot, see if you can fish it out,” Hol Horse suggests, extending the tiny creature toward Josuke before tipping his hat toward a woman walking by. 

"Ugh." With a frown, Crazy Diamond reaches out his hand slowly—very slowly, as Josuke dictates. Eventually, he touches the turtle with a single finger and a shiver runs up Josuke’s spine as he feels the impression of the shell. His expression contorts with a mixture of disgust and anticipation as, to both his and Hol Horse’s surprise, the turtle undergoes a seamless transformation, glowing both gold and pink as it morphs into the arrowhead. 

As Josuke contemplates the strange turn of events, an uneasy feeling settles in the pit of his stomach. The realization dawns on him – the pickpocket was a Stand user the whole time, he had to be.

Life in Naples is different from what he's used to in Morioh, but the thought of a Stand user prowling the vibrant streets leaves him on edge. But before he can dwell on it further, Hol Horse interjects with a more pressing concern. 

“Did that kid manage to lift anything other than the arrowhead?” 

Josuke pats his pockets, then across his chest. It doesn’t take long for him to realize that the boy swiped his wallet as well. Irritation flickers across his face and a dangerous aura seems to surround him as he laments the audacity of the thieving boy.

"Before you go blowin' your top, consider this," Hol Horse begins, his tone measured. "What if that kid went for the arrow on purpose?" he scans their surroundings for any signs of suspicious activity, as though an enemy would emerge from the crowd. But Josuke, still fuming about his stolen wallet, scoffs at the idea. 

"There’s no way Dio’s sending some punk ass kid after the arrow, even if he did know about it.”

Hol Horse, however, maintains a cautious demeanor. 

"Don’t underestimate Dio's methods, Josuke. He's got all sorts of agents workin’ for him – from animals to babies. If he knows about that arrow and its power somehow, he might've sent someone to try and snatch it.” 

Josuke thinks back on Silver Chariot’s mysterious power. He wouldn’t put it past you or Dio to be one step ahead, and as that realization sinks in, Josuke's anger shifts to a more focused determination. He clenches his fists, ready to confront the challenges that lie ahead.

"You're right…We need to figure out our next steps."

“Let's make haste,” Hol Horse suggests, reaching into his pocket and pulling out the accommodation vouchers given to them by the airport staff. "Let's get off these streets before we get an even bigger target on our backs."

Following Hol Horse's lead, the duo begin retracing their steps, aiming to find the hotel and secure their safety. But they navigate the vibrant city Josuke scans the faces in the crowd, half-expecting to catch a glimpse of the mysterious boy.

Unbeknownst to them, concealed within the branches of newly sprung trees, the young pickpocket watches their every move as they retreat. 

‘That tourist,’ he thinks, ‘could he possibly have the same kind of ability as I do?’ 

Josuke and Hol Horse spend their time idling in the hotel room. Josuke is grateful to still have his passport and Hol Horse is grateful for the cute lady at the desk who gave them a room with a view. But, despite the relaxing atmosphere and delicious food, Josuke can't help but worry about the young thief's identity. Hol Horse might have been afraid to say it, but Josuke knows their resemblance was uncanny.

An unwelcome thought enters his mind then; the idea that he isn't Joseph's only illegitimate son. But the very thought makes him uneasy, almost sick, so he tries to enjoy what's on TV and allows the day to pass without incident. 

-

They return to the airport around 7 in the morning. Hol Horse is eager to put some distance between himself and whatever agents Dio might have lurking, while Josuke has his eyes peeled for the thief and any other suspicious activity. They pass the long line of taxi cabs and Josuke checks his breast pocket, where the arrowhead is now tucked securely.  Josuke isn't sure he can explain it, but it feels restless somehow, as if it wants to fly free. Josuke feels it too, or rather he feels something that pulls his attention toward the entry. 

"Excuse me." Amid the airport traffic, a gentle voice cuts through the crowd, addressing Josuke in Japanese. Josuke turns and a familiar figure emerges, a kid, perhaps 13 or 14, dressed in pink. The boy approaches with a calm demeanor, though his large green eyes scrutinize Josuke completely. 

"You!" Josuke begins, recognizing the young thief from the previous day. "You've got a lot of nerve showing up here! Did you think bleaching your hair would keep me from recognizing you?" Josuke curls his hand into a fist. He isn’t afraid to beat up some middle-school-aged kid. 

The boy, however, only narrows his eyes at Josuke. He has his own reasons for being here, questions that demand an answer. 

"Just who are you?" he asks, "and what have you done to me?" A breeze filters in through the door as another wave of travelers enter, rustling the tresses of his long golden hair. 

-

The boy woke this morning as he always did: with the rising sun gleaming through the window, casting a honey glow upon his tiny room. As he rubbed the sleep from his eyes, he became aware of an unusual weight on his head. He laid still for a moment, unsure of what he was feeling. Surely his step-father hadn’t done anything, not after so many years of begrudging peace.

When he finally did sit up, he touched his head and found that his once dark locks had now grown longer and turned a striking shade of blond. More than that, his hair arranged itself into a mullet, a style that felt completely out of place. Both confused and horrified, he stared at himself in the mirror, struggling to reconcile the reflection with the image he'd always known. 

He looked like someone else, someone he had never truly known.

The boy had no dye to cover what happened or scissors to cut his hair, but he felt the need to regain a semblance of control.  So, he meticulously styled his bangs into three distinct victory curls, a style he saw in Vogue Italia. As the curls took shape beneath his fingers, the boy couldn't shake off the events of the previous day, particularly his encounter with Josuke. That encounter marked the first time he encountered someone with abilities similar to his own and he's certain this transformation is the result of that encounter. After all,  Josuke's hair looked ridiculously out of place too. Did he curse him or something? No, that couldn't be it. But perhaps it had something to do with that golden shard he stole.

Driven by his curiosity and something that felt greater still, the boy felt compelled to return to the airport, return to confront Josuke.

And now that he's found him, he wants his questions answered. So, with a calm yet purposeful demeanor, he hands it over to Josuke in an attempt to make a trade: the stolen wallet for the information he seeks, but the air remains thick with unspoken tension.

Josuke snatches the wallet from the boy's outstretched hand, a mixture of relief and irritation flashing across his face. He quickly inspects its contents, his fingers moving over the familiar items within. His school  ID, Joseph's credit card, and the cherished picture of him, his grandpa, and his mom were all there, but a subtle shift in placement betrayed the boy's meddling. Everything he valued remained intact, except, of course, his money.

"You little brat!" Josuke turns toward him again. "Give me my money!" But the boy, undeterred by Josuke's hostility, met his gaze evenly.

“The money is gone. I traded it with someone who collects foreign currency,” the boy explains casually, almost dismissively. He notes to himself the way his question went ignored and then explains the meager benefits of his transaction. Josuke only had enough to buy dinner, ice cream, and last week's issue of Vogue. His carefree attitude, however, grates on Josuke's nerves, and he feels the tension rising.

Hol Horse, sensing Josuke's anger, steps forward, attempting to calm the situation.

"Easy there, Josuke. Let's not make a scene," Hol Horse suggests, his tone placating. However, Josuke, fueled by frustration, ignores the advice. He grabs the boy by the collar, his patience wearing thin. Anyone who saw them gave the duo a wide birth, and decided to mind their business, seeing this as a childish dispute between siblings. 

"Pay me back my money, right now!" 

"I already told you I don't have it."

"Then give me yours," Josuke demands, his voice sharp. The boy, seemingly unfazed, contemplates the request for a moment.

“You don't know me, so you wouldn't know this, but I don’t like to repeat myself,” he explains, reaching for his wallet. 

“And I don’t like punk kids with shitty attitudes,” Josuke snatches the wallet from his hand and releases the boy, pushing him back slightly.  The boy's annoyance rises to match Josuke's and he shoots him with a defiant glare.

Twice now his questions have been ignored. 

Violence is almost a foregone conclusion as the standoff between the two becomes heated. Hol Horse looks around, worried that someone might call security, but as Josuke opens the boy's wallet, all that tension turns to ice.

Josuke’s attention is immediately stolen by something unexpected and he stares at it with wide eyes. There's a photograph tucked within the folds of the boy's wallet—a photograph of Dio himself. 

Pure hatred and accusations rush to the forefront of his mind, and he doesn't hesitate to voice his suspicions.

"So you are one of Dio’s agents after all!" He summons Crazy Diamond without waiting for a reply. The boy, however, doesn't back down. In response to seeing Josuke's power, he summons his companion, and a lean golden figure manifests beside him, ready for whatever confrontation may unfold. And while the airport remains oblivious, more questions unfold in the boy's mind. 

"I don't want to fight you. I only want answers. You said 'Dio' just now, didn't you?” He repeats the name of the man he’s never known.  “Tell me, how do you know my father? Did he send you here?"

Josuke glances at Hol Horse, their eyes meeting in silent shock.

The revelation hangs heavy in the air, an unexpected connection that neither of them anticipated. 

"Father?" Josuke repeats. "You're saying Dio is your dad?" Looking at him now, with his golden hair and soft features, the resemblance to Dio is uncanny. But, perhaps more disconcerting, was the lack of true hostility he sensed from him. There was a certain gentleness about the boy, something familiar yet distant at the same time. 

“I mean," Hol Horse mutters. "Dio was no stranger to entertainin' ladies, but...”  It was no secret that Dio killed the woman he engaged with, desiring both their bodies and their blood. He wouldn't have allowed one to leave, not willingly. But Hol Horse remembered the day he first entered Dio's treasury, the day he stumbled upon Dio's leftovers lying on the floor. 

There were three of them, all beautiful women, each scantily clad with marks on their necks, the telltale signs of having been drained of blood. He thought they were dead at first, thought they deserved their fates for picking a man like Dio. But then he heard it, the faintest whisper of a moan.

He tried to ignore them, tried to walk away, but in a moment of clarity, a moment of bravery, he turned back for the women, held their trembling forms in his arms, and carried their bodies from the mansion. He couldn't let himself be seen with them, so he shoved the three into a taxi, gave the driver money, and ordered him to drive the women to the nearest hospital. Could one of those women have been the boy's mother? Or did she manage to escape on her own? 

Hol Horse never knew why he saved those women, but it wasn't something he came to regret. He hopes he won't come to regret it now. 

“What’s your name, kid?” Hol Horse asks and the boy draws his brows together. He’s learned English in school, enough to understand and be understood. 

“My name is Giorno Giovanna,” the boy answers,  “and this is the third time you’ve ignored me.”

There won’t be a fourth. 

It was around 11 pm when it happened. The sun had long since set, and there was a soft, distant pull upon his psyche as if something burst to life far away.

Though he was far too busy to acknowledge it, too preoccupied by the demands of the night. 

You decided to grace his presence earlier in the evening, the soft click of the door sealing the outside world away.

"...It seems there were no further sightings of that woman lurking about," you informed him. "Cool J performed a full sweep." 

"I did say I would take care of it, did I not?" Dio replied with a self-satisfied air. 

"Ah, 'you' took care of it, did you? 'You,' who is known to handle things yourself? I suppose I should thank you for taking on such strenuous efforts." Leaning in, you dragged a finger down his chest. He felt the pull then, but the curves that lay beneath the lace of your gown were far more worthy of consideration. 

The candles on the mantlepiece flickered, casting an enchanting glow on his sharp, golden gaze. And, with a playful smile, you brushed back his hair. 

"Come to me after midnight, Dio. I’ll see to it you enjoy the full benefits of my gratitude.” You promise in a low, seductive voice. 

And as he watched you leave him, Dio chose not to concern himself with whatever it was the Joestars were doing.

He held the upper hand, and with Heaven just a few days away, he relished in the fact that his victory was assured. 

| Next

[santoschristos]

Egyptian Moon GodMahaboka, Midjourney, P/SSailing among them I have come, I am crowned, I am glorious, I am mighty, I am strong among the gods.“I am the moon-god Aah, the dweller among the gods.”- Egyptian Book of the Dead (Book of Coming Forth By Day)

Scarab Beetle, a sign of spontaneous creation, a symbol of regeneration and renewal.

[monthoffearart]

“Khepra” — Jeszkia Le Vye

The night evaporates around him, like a shroud he shrugs off the underworld, unveiling the glorious rekindling of light. The sun rises yet again.

Khepra is the Egyptian god of the rising sun and represented eternal rebirth of the day, the primordial dawning of the universe. The Egyptians had many sun gods, often described as being various incarnations of the same god. Ra, Amun and Ptah were generally considered sun gods in the sense of the noon day sun - whereas Khepra was the god of the rising sun and Atum was the god of the setting sun. Khepra represented not only rebirth, but change itself and his name means ‘to become’. Khepra was associated with the scarab beetle and the ubiquitousness of the scarab symbol in Egyptian culture shows how important the idea of rebirth and transformation was to them.

[comparativetarot]

The Moon. Art by Celeste Pille, from The American Renaissance Tarot.

“On this occasion of the Full Moon in Pisces, we've decided to unveil our lovely Moon card, an ode to the origins of Spiritualism in the United States. Those in the know might recognize the sisters Maggie and Kate Fox, the two teenagers who became Spiritualist icons following their much-publicized communication with a dead peddler in their home in 1848. From such unlikely beginnings, a culture of seances and mediumship was born, and quickly became a national craze. By some estimates, eleven million Americans took up the new religion in the mid-nineteenth century, many of them women who jumped at the chance to wield spiritual authority from the domestic space of the parlor.

We've replaced the crustacean that appears on the Moon card in the Waite-Smith Tarot with a scarab beetle; ancient Egyptians saw a scarab in the constellation of Cancer instead of a crab, so we feel the substitution is somewhat justified on esoteric grounds. But as this is a literary Tarot, our primary inspiration for the 'beautiful bug' that appears on the card is Herman Melville's delightful story, 'The Apple-Tree Table.' In the story, a superstitious protagonist discovers a colonial alchemist's lab in the garret of his new home, and rescues a table of apple wood from among the spooky relics. Soon, the table begins to 'tick,' much like the 'raps' heard by the first Spiritualists, causing the narrator's two daughters to shriek 'Spirits! Spirits!' throughout the story. At the story's climax, the source of the ticking is revealed to be a bug chewing through the dead wood of the table. But not just any bug: 'a beautiful bug — a...jeweller’s bug - a bug like a sparkle of a glorious sunset.' Whether the bug represents Melville's joke on the 'humbug' of Spiritualism, or a pleasant meditation on the wonders of the natural world, is left to the reader to decide. In the polysemous world of the Tarot, our bug might also represent the 'gold-bug' of the Edgar Allan Poe story of the same name, in which the folk-alchemy of a treasure-hunting expedition unfolds successfully under the influence of a gold bug. Perhaps the bug may stand in for Carl Jung's concept of 'synchronicity,' as one example Jung used to explain synchronicity was a patient who dreamed of a golden scarab. After the patient recited the dream to Jung, just such a bug scratched at Jung's window, and the uncanny coincidence prompted further thought on the signs and symbols in the outer world that reflect one's inner life. Synchronicity is not a bad term for summing up the actions of the Tarot's Moon. It can be easy to forget that the astrological sign associated with the Tarot's Moon is not Cancer but Pisces, the sign of both mystical insight AND self-delusion. To explain the meaning of this card I always ask people to remember their own experiences on the Full Moon: typically, some Full Moons are full of wonder and magic and the pleasure of the spooky, while others have you crying your eyes out, a victim of your own worst fears and illusory projections. While many people in the nineteenth century praised the sisters Fox as the harbingers of a new spiritual dispensation, an equal number reviled them as gimmicky charlatans. That the sisters later confessed to faking spiritualistic phenomena only complicates matters, as the 'confessions' were financially motivated, and only came after thousands of seances in which they connected the bereaved to their departed loved ones. Welcome to the wooly world of the Moon...” — Thea Wirsching

[onenicebugperday]

Glorious Scarab, Chrysina gloriosa Found in the southwestern United States from Texas to Arizona and into northern Mexico

Photos1 and 2 by silversea_starsong, photo 3 by Carla Kishinami, and photos 4 through 8 by Katja Schulz

[just-a-beagler]

Glorious Scarab  Chrysina gloriosa

My larvae are doing rather well

[missmartian369]

Episode 16: Illusion of Control Reaction

- I love Bart. He’s just going around hugging everybody.

- I had to rewind the part where Bart kissed Ed’s cheek because i missed that the first time. But if they got a thing going on I’m here for it!

- Aw I love Thanksgiving and the M’orzz/Kent household.

- Artemis you’re starting to piss me off! Stop looking at Will like that!!!! And Will you stop looking at Artemis like that!!!!

- OMG JAIME AND TRACI ARE A COUPLE!!!! YES!!!!! I SHIPPED THEM SO MUCH IN THE BLUE BEETLE COMICS!!!!!

- Traci is geeking out over Garfield like I thought she would if she were to ever meet him.

- Poor Virgil lol. Feeling like a seventh wheel.

- Yay! Carnival time!!!!

- WHERE THE FUCK ARE TYE AND ASAMI?!?! I NEED THIS REUNION TO BE COMPLETE!!!!!

- Yo I thought that the cotton candy was poisoned for a second. But it was actually Vertigo.

- They are going after Perdita and they just met her. These are true friends.

- Harper family Thanksgiving!!!! Lian i so precious!!!!

- The Scarab is back being a glorious smartass and I love it!!! And Traci was not faced at all.

- DID YA’LL SEE THE WAY JAIME LOOKED AT TRACI AFTER SHE BROUGHT DOWN THE HELICOPTER?!?! HE LIKES HER SO MUCH!!!!

- Oh Scarab never change lol.

- I was not expecting that scene with Artemis and her mom. My heart hurts now.

- BART SAID HELLO MEGAN AND HIT HIMSELF ON THE HEAD WHILE SAYING IT!!! THE OG TEAM’S PHRASES ARE BECOMING SUCH A TREND!!!!

- PERDITA JUST KICKED VERTIGO IN THE NUTS!!!! AND THEN PUNCHED PSIMON IN THE FACE, DRAWING BLOOD, WHEN SHE FOUND OUT IT WAS HIM!!!

- Perdita has gained so much points in this episode.

- So that was really Psimon and Devastation.

- Again poor Virgil lol. Even Psimon got a girlfriend before him lol.

- So this was all a distraction. Ain’t that some shit?

- Yay they made it back in time to save the meta-teens!

- TRACI IS MY SPIRIT ANIMAL!!! I LOVE HER SO MUCH!!!!!

- I feel bad for Vic. But I’m glad Forager was there for him.

- Also, Karen and Mal were at the M’Orzz/Kent Thanksgiving feast!!!

- DAMMIT NOW DR. JACE KNOWS ABOUT VIOLETS FLASHBACK!!!

- Episode 16 is now my favorite of season 3 so far!

- The only complaint I had is that Cassie wasn’t in it.

[skarletterambles]

The Mummy Returns Re(-re-re-re-re-) watch blog

I might be short a few “re-”s there, as I know I saw this four times in the theater, and plenty of times on DVD, but close enough.

Below are my thoughts, typed as I watched (while eating the pizza leftover from last night’s viewing of the first movie)...

[Disclaimers:  Spoilers for both The Mummy (1999) and, obviously, The Mummy Returns (2001)  Expect lots of squeeing and/or crying over Imhotep/Anck-su-namun.]

And here comes The Rock in his first film appearance.  All those big movies he’s been in since owe a debt to this one.  *insert sound clip of “You’re Welcome” from Moana*

Anubis needs to feed his warriors better.  They’re way too skinny.

Got to love the detail where there’s a carving of Anck-su-namun and Nefertiri in ritual combat on the wall Evy and Rick are excavating.  One of those things you don’t notice on first viewing.

“No harm ever came from opening a chest.”  Evy, I know you’re doing a cute callback, but you were there when the Americans suffered the consequences of opening the canopic jar chest in the last movie.

Since Evelyn is actually the reincarnation of the Bracelet’s official guardian, why did her taking it trigger the booby traps?  I guess that kind of role doesn’t carry over.

Oh joy, more scarab beetles.

I know we have to be able to recognize him, but it’s silly that Ardeth was spying on the Hamunaptra digsite with only a hood on.  Someone--especially Meela--would have recognized his face tattoos.  ... Wait, did I just suggest covering up that gorgeous face?  Never mind!

Rick/Ivy = relationship goals

Meela:  “And your point is?” Jonathan:  “My point is I told you so you wouldn’t kill me!” Meela:  “When did we make that arrangement?”

I wonder if she collected her snake before they left.  Otherwise the O’Connells (or their housekeeping staff) will have a nasty surprise later.

I could listen to Rick, Ardeth and Jonathan bicker and banter all day.

Notice how Alex gets annoyed when Rick ruffles his hair.  So it’s not just Imhotep’s head-ruffles he hates.  Heh.

In my drooling over Rick, Ardeth, and Imhotep I had almost forgotten that Lock-Nah is built like a brick shithouse.  Nice.

There’s a camera shot that appears to show the POV of Imhotep inside the hardened goo.  So I guess he could tell what was going on...sort of.

Both Alex and Evy recognize Curator Hafez from their time in the British Museum.  There’s room for some wacky prequel stories there.

I love that little “Eew, whatever,” reaction from Hafez when Imhotep is done declaring his love for Anck-su-Namun.  LOL

I still want to know how Meela managed to snap her fingers with her gloves on.

Imhotep recognizes Rick and roars “YOU!” and Rick clips him in the shoulder with a hail of bullets, knowing full well it won’t hurt him, just as a big “eff you, too.”  Love it.

LOL @ “Honey, whatcha doin’?  These guys don’t use doors” and “Oh, I hate mummies...”  So many funny lines in this part.

That’s twice--no, thrice--the bad guys have drawn blood on Ardeth tonight.  Leave him and his glorious body alone, you big meanies!  :P

Alex has a good point:  props to Jonathan for driving that bus safely through all that mummy battling.  (Well, mostly safely.  Better than I would have done, anyway.)

Ardeth geeking out over his first bus ride is too freaking adorable for words.

I just noticed the parallel between Rick hanging on the edge of the drawbridge, near tears in desperation as he watches the kidnappers driving away with his son, and, well...you know which scene.  Sigh.

I could watch that flashback kiss between Imhotep and Anck-su-namun a dozen times on repeat...if I could manage to time it perfectly so I could rewind before he morphs back into a mummy.  Because eew.  LOL, but eew.

Imhotep tried to be nice to Alex, talking to him as gently as he could (which is still raspy and scary, but he was trying) and explaining how the bracelet works, and in return Alex told him how his dad would kick his ass.  I don’t blame Imhotep for taking off his mask and scaring the kid then.  :p

Then Imhotep takes off his robes before attacking the mercenaries.  Freedom of movement?  The cloth wouldn’t survive the magic regeneration?  He wanted to be naked because he knew his girl was peeking through the door?  All of the above?  Who knows? 

LOL @ Meela squeamishly tip-toeing around the desiccated corpses of the mercenaries.  It’s worth it to get to the now-normal-looking Imhotep, though.  ;)

I want to slap the editors for inter-cutting the big, romantic reunion with Alex tampering with a filthy toilet.

I know Imhotep wanted to stop his minions from shooting Alex, but yeeting those guys into the pillars was totally unnecessary.  I bet he was showing off for Meela.

...  And I was too busy holding my breath and freaking out during the big duel/regicide flashback to type anything.  Oh well.

I did notice one moment where Imhotep is watching the women fight and something goes wrong for Anck-su-namun and he gives this little involuntary gasp.  Subtle, but neat.

What I like to refer to as The Look(tm) is such a great moment, though.  They actually slow down the film as Imhotep and Anck-su-namun make eye contact, drawing out that stolen, subtle moment of intimacy just like it must have felt for them.  *swoon*

Back to modern times... Once again Imhotep watches out for Alex by making Lock-Nah put him down and stop threatening him.  I mean, yeah, he’s also about to try killing the boy’s parents, so he’s not perfect, but still...  I thank that attempted head-ruffle was his way of apology...  *polishes villain-fangirl goggles*

It’s been awhile since I mentioned how breathtakingly good-looking Ardeth is.  But he is.  Just sayin’.

Imhotep looks conflicted and even a little sad when Hafez says they don’t need the boy anymore.  He doesn’t give the order to kill him, either.  Just makes a vague statement about needing the bracelet.  It may be a coincidence, but he even smirks right after someone says “The boy!”  (i.e. Alex is making a run for it).  It could just be my fangirly brain playing tricks, but I really think a case can be made for Imhotep having a soft spot for the kid.

I see Jonathan has learned the “scream at things” technique from Rick.  Alas, it didn’t save the red-robed guy from the pygmy mummies.  (I swear I know that actor from somewhere...  The red-robed guy, not the pygmy mummy.)

I can’t believe I still get a tiny bit misty-eyed at Evy’s death.  I’ve seen this movie at least ten times, and even the FIRST TIME I knew she wasn’t going to stay dead.  But man, the actors sell it.

I just noticed that after he loses his powers, but before he takes off his black robe, Imhotep and Anck-su-namun were holding hands while walking through the pyramid.  Awwwww!

Mighty brave of Rick to attack Imhotep without knowing he had lost his powers.   Luckily Imhotep’s split lip bleeds, tipping Rick off right away...and then the blood disappears in the next shot.  Yay, continuity!

Everyone remembers the Scorpion King himself as being the CGI lowlight of the film, but those Anubis warriors don’t hold up very well, either.

God bless Arnold Vosloo for doing this fight scene in a loincloth.  I’ve read how punishing it was to film without the padding that Brendan Fraser had under his costume, but the eye candy was worth the sacrifice.  Heh.

I was too busy watching to type much during the climax, but that’s just as well, as it’s hard to articulate “YAY NO OMG WOOHOO NO LOL WHAT AAAH YEAH NOOOOOOOOOOO DAMN IT.”

After the Anubis army went poof I was like, “Okay, great, we won, let’s all call a truce and get out of here before anyone else gets killed.”  But did the stupid movie listen to me?  Noooooo.  Instead, there are Rick and Imhotep, hanging onto the cliff for dear life.

Time for the worst experiment in reverse psychology ever: Rick:  “Go!  Save yourself!” Evy:  *does the opposite* Imhotep:  “Help me!” Anck-su-namun:  “does the opposite*

Sigh.

Fight or flight is a deeply ingrained response, and I just can’t bring myself to hate Anck-su-namun for going with the wrong reaction in that moment of panic.  It’s simply another facet of the tragedy that is their love story.  That doesn’t make it hurt any less to watch, though.  There are tears in Imhotep’s eyes right before he lets go.  Actual tears!   Even Rick and Evy look like they feel sorry for him!  Aaah!  I can’t take it!

As he was letting himself fall I maaaay have screamed at the TV, “Don’t make me write fanfic to fix this--oh wait, I already did.”  Heh.

Better luck next reincarnation, you two.

Then the good guys escape and live happily ever after, yada yada yada.  The end.

(And no, we don’t speak of the third movie.  It doesn’t exist.  I saw it once, was amused by Jonathan opening a nightclub called “Imhotep’s,” and found the rest totally frustrating and forgettable.  So nope, there are only two movies in this series.)