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carolperkinsexgirlfriend · 6 months ago

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Steddie Upside-Down AU Part 113

Part 1 Part 112

Even perfect moments must end, and Steve’s ready to leave this one. He doesn’t regret his chosen locale, but the room’s dark now, and the shadows are starting to loom the way they would when he was a child.

His legs are stiff when he gets up off Eddie’s lap, hips creaking as they realign.

Steve doesn’t make it into the bedroom proper before Eddie calls out, “wait!” He snatches the hem of Steve’s jacket. It bunches awkwardly as Steve twists to look back at Eddie. “Shit, ow, ow, dead legs.”

Eddie’s stumbling upright, hanging onto Steve’s jacket for dear life as he tries to use it to pull himself to his feet. Steve grabs his forearm and hauls him up, almost buckling himself when Eddie throws his arms around his shoulders. “Hang on, hang on, let me—” he says, reaching around Steve, and suddenly there’s light.

Eddie’s curls are hanging in front of Steve’s face, tickling his nose as he retracts his hand from the light switch outside the closet that he’d flicked on.

It’s jarring after so long in the dull light, but Eddie’s beaming when he pulls back to look in Steve’s face, smile brighter than any light Steve’s ever seen.

Steve smiles back, helpless in the face of his stupid dimples. He reaches out to thumb one of them, and it deepens as Eddie laughs and nuzzles into the touch.

“Wait, stop distracting me!”

Steve twists his thumb around in the dimple before tweaking his cheek between pointer and thumb like a doting grandmother. Eddie smacks his hand.

“Stop it!”

“You love it,” Steve says, trailing his fingers down his cheek to settle at the join between neck and shoulder, fingers pushing beneath his t-shirt and resting there.

“Whatever, dude,” Eddie replies. He looks down at his own hands as he spins his rings the way he does when he’s nervous. “It was supposed to be romantic.” He says it with all the same inflections as Steve had, smiling like nothing makes him happier than mocking Steve.

Steve squeezes his shoulder until it drops for its tense position. “Well?” he asks. “Romance me, then.”

Eddie snorts, cheeks pinkening. Steve watches his fingers dance from ring to ring to ring before pulling one of his pinkie and holding it in his palm.

Steve squints down at it. Eddie’s mussed bangs partially block his view, but he sees enough to recognize it.

It’s the smallest and most delicate of all Eddie’s rings—a thin silver band with a tiny green gem inlaid in the center. Aside from showering and sleeping, it perpetually rests on Eddie’s left pinkie finger.

Eddie slips it on Steve’s own pinkie. It fits snuggly below his knuckle, already warm from Eddie’s body heat. Steve stares down at it, transfixed. Eddie’s hands look naked without his rings, but on Steve, it looks almost bizarre to have even the one finger adorned.

Steve wiggles his finger around, watching the metal catch the light pleasingly.

Eddie’s smirking when Steve looks up at him. “I don’t know if you remember, but that little bad boy’s the one that fell out of your pants.”

It takes a minute for the memory to click. “In the Upside-Down?” he asks, looking down at the ring with new eyes. “When your hand got stuck in my pants?”

Eddie sputters, muttering something that sounds like, “don’t’ say it like that,” before he raises his voice and continues, “just feels right to give it back.”

He reaches fingers out to twist the ring on Steve’s own finger. The glide’s not smooth—it catches on Steve’s clammy skin as he watches, transfixed.

“We’ve come full circle, you know?”

Once he’s finished speaking, he pulls his Steve’s hand up to his lips, placing such a soft kiss against the ring that Steve’s breath catches.

“Thanks,” Steve croaks out, choking in the moths fluttering away in his lungs. There’s an infestation in there. He puts a hand on his own chest after Eddie lowers their hands and swears he can feel them flapping. “Are you ready to get the hell out of here?”

He doesn’t wait for a response, just turns, pulling Eddie along by their still-joined hands. Eddie clicks the light switch by the closet off, and they stumble the rest of the way to the bedroom door in complete darkness.

“I don’t know, this might be my last chance to make a coming out of the closet joke.”

The hallway’s dark when Steve opens the door, so he clicks on the light, unwilling to stumble down the stairs in the dark.

“What do you mean?” Steve asks, not turning around as he begins his descent.

“You know because we just made out in a closet?” Steve hums questioningly and Eddie starts up again. “Stevie, you know? Because I’m gay?”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

Eddie doesn’t respond until Steve’s at the bottom of the stairs. “Angel, are you serious?” He spins Steve around, latching onto his shoulders and peering into his eyes. “Are you fucking with me?”

Steve, who’s decidedly not fucking with him and is frankly entirely lost, just blinks up at him where he’s leaning forward on the last stair.

He shrugs, entirely lost.

They stare at each other in silence, maintaining intense eye contact the entire time.

Eddie cracks first. “Oh my god,” he says, leaning forward precariously on his perch to smoosh his face into Steve’s shoulder, groaning. “How did this happen?”

“I’m…sorry?” Steve says, patting Eddie’s shoulder in consolation of what appears to have been a mighty blow.

“I thought at least Carol would have told you.”

“Shit, Carol!” Steve turns quickly, striding toward the kitchen and more importantly, the phone. It’s only after he’s already moved that he remembers Eddie was leaning on him for balance. By then, Eddie’s already sputtering as he slips down the first step, slipping down to the ground floor, luckily staying upright. “I promised I’d call her right away.”

He lets his fingers do his thing, and Carol picks up so quickly that the phone barely rings. “Well?” she demands, voice crackling with impatience through the line.

“I told him,” Steve replies, knowing without asking what she wanted to hear. Eddie shuffles up behind him and hooks his chin over Steve’s shoulder, pressing his ear to the back side of the phone. “And he kissed me.”

Carol squeals like they’re at sleepover, and Eddie wraps his arms around Steve’s waist.

“Did you follow our plan?”

Steve grimaces at the thought of standing here through Carol’s teasing with Eddie as a devout witness. “For the most part,” he hedges, cringing when that makes Eddie laugh.

“What does that mean?” she demands.

Eddie snatches the phone from him, holding it out in front of them both as he says, “our boy here went off script.” Eddie squeezes Steve’s waist, leaning forward when the tinny sound of Carol’s laugh filters through. “Had me half convinced he was ditching me for you and Hagan.”

Carol’s shrieking with laughter at this point. Steve stares, mortified at the phone as Carol yells, “I told you we should’ve written it down!”

Steve sinks into Eddie’s chest, mortified as Eddie buries his face in Steve’s shoulder and shakes with laughter.

Steve snatches the phone out of his hand and pushes it hard against his other ear, hoping that’ll muffle any horrible thing she says enough that Eddie won’t be able to hear it.

“Shut up,” Steve hisses, like staying quiet will somehow make Eddie unaware of how warm Steve’s cheek is where it’s pressed against his forehead.

“Are you going to talk to Loverboy with that mouth?” she asks. He can almost hear the way her eyes are twinkling as she says it.

Steve groans, letting his chin sink into his own chest. He closes his eyes, ready to be somewhere else for a while. Unfortunately, that doesn’t stopper his ears up, and Carol’s not done.

“You know, if things don’t work out with Munson—”

“They will!”

“Hagan might be out of the picture, but Barb and I could always leave a little room between us for a ménage à troi—"

Steve hangs up.

“Ready to go?” Steve asks brightly.

Eddie starts laughing again when the phone starts to ring, but dutifully follows when Steve keeps walking to the front door.

The click of the lock sounds final when he twists the key in.

There’s a missing spot on his keyring where it used to have its home. But it’s never belonged on the same ring as the Munson’s trailer key, so he puts it back in its hiding spot with no hesitation.

He does hesitate when he pulls out his keyring. There’s not much left on it—the Munson’s trailer key and his car keys. That’s all there is.

He hesitates, fingers hovering over his car keys. He’s been hesitating over this for weeks. Since he’d first gotten back from the Upside-Down and the beemer stuck out like a sore thumb in the driveway.

Since his Dad had held out his beckoning hand in the hospital room and demanded the keys back. He’d cleared out all his belongings that week, waiting for them to tow it away, take the last thing aside from his name that ties them together.

But, it’d been rotting in the Munson’s driveway ever since.

And Steve’s still hesitating—always, always, hesitating.

But then Eddie asks, “Stevie?” and he pulls them off the ring like it’s nothing.

He opens the driver’s side door and tucks the keys into the visor where he used to hang his sunglasses.

“Are you okay with walking home?” Steve asks, turning his back on the car, and the house, and this life for the last time.

Eddie’s brow is furrowed as he meets Steve’s eyes, but whatever he sees must appease him because soon enough he’s smiling, something dangerously close to pride shining in his eyes.

“Of course,” he says, skipping up to Steve’s side and matching him step for step as they walk down the Harrington’s long driveway. “But, if you were going to pull this, why didn’t I just follow you in my van?”

He bumps their shoulders together, good-natured and teasing even while facing a long walk home in the dark.

“I wasn’t sure I’d actually do it until I’d already done it,” Steve replies, stepping off the driveway and onto the smooth sidewalk that only the rich neighborhoods in Hawkins seem to have.

“Yeah,” Eddie replies, so softly in the quiet of the night. “It makes perfect sense.”

Hawkins is a small town, but here in the dark on an abandoned street, it feels safe enough to reach out and take Eddie’s hand.

Part 114

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie upsidedown au #my fic #huzzah!!!! Originally I WAS going to have the car towed. But I think it works better as Steve making the choice to let go of the ties #that come with it. Yes. He could've given it to his dad when he asked in the hospital. but that would've been an FU to steve and this #is more of an FU to them since it's very. Ok whatever. I don't need you and I don't even want to see you to TELL YOU THAT #anyway. this is the end of the getting together era. Everyone is on the same page. Carol knows. Boom

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brisquad-unit-4402 · 11 months ago

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rating luxiem and noctyx by how good they would be at taking care of bugs

my name is unit 4402 and i’m typing this on my phone. autocorrect’s suggested emojis are going to go crazy wish me luck

tags: ambiguous relationship, can be read as platonic or romantic, gender neutral reader, fluff, humor, bugs and spiders

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

🖋 Ike Eveland: 4/10

he’s neutral about most bugs. he’ll pick up critters like beetles and caterpillars with his hands and set them outside

gets grossed out by the nastier bugs though. won’t touch ‘em himself, they’re lucky if he can gather himself enough to get a paper and cup. otherwise it’s swatter time with gritted teeth and barely mustered courage

SPIDERS. HOWEVER.

certified spider hater. absolutely terrified of them get out of here!!!

he'll use a swatter, pesticides, everything. but he’s so afraid of how they disappear when he’s not looking

you’ll have to keep an eye on it while he finds the pesticide or vice versa

if he’s unfortunate enough to be the one to kill it you’ll have to hype him up, calm his nerves, and then tell him it’s okay once the deed is done

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

🦁 Luca Kaneshiro -100/10

this guy… easily the worst of both units at bug duty. you might just have to take the bullet

he gets sketched out by even the cute ones like butterflies and ladybugs if he looks at them for too long. there’s no way he could even take a moth with a level head

he even reacts to all of them the same. “AAAAH! T-t-there’s a [BUG NAME] in [room name]!”

even so he tries to be nice to them with a cup and paper, or some other method to get them out of his space

unfortunately australian wildlife has prepared him so smaller bugs are still scary but he’ll be a big scared scary mafia boss and take action

and everyone says they’ll leave the house as a joke if they can’t find the spider but it’s luca. there is a solid chance that he will invite you to stay with him in one of the kaneshiro vacation homes for about three days. that’s enough time for the bugs to leave, right?

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

👟 Shu Yamino: 10/10

oh! a bug!

is rather delighted at bug!

honestly if it’s a cool bug he might just take a video of it doing its thing and give it a personality!

he has a out-of-sight, out-of-mind philosophy with bugs. he’s fine with just about anything as long as they aren't annoying

harmful pests will get swatted tho ofc

everything else, he’s fine with bringing outside himself without much fanfare

some of them are a little creepy but he tries to rationalize it. they’re just tiny animals and he’s a big strong sorcerer, it’s fine. what are they gonna do, infest him to death?

…he’s going to spray the house down later just to be sure.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

👹 Vox Akuma: 9/10

a wild card. and also VERY emotionally invested in any bugs that come his way whether that’s good or bad

if they manage to sneak up on him he’ll probably yell “WOAH” or curse out of surprise, then figure out whether he should be scared or not

surprisingly fine with the nastiest of them. he actually loves worms, centipedes and similar critters, and he’ll even admire them if they stumble into his territory

“look reader this is me if i were a worm. would you still love me if i was a worm 🥺” “vox please just get that thing outside”

spiders have a 50-50 survival chance. he’ll kill small spiders but bring the big ones outside because the big ones are like full Animals to him and slaughtering animals is not something he can bring himself to do (tiny ones don’t count)

are scorpions bugs? do they count? either way that’s his one objection. he wouldn’t touch them with a ten foot pole if he had the choice, but if you’re really that scared, then he’ll put on a brave face and hide his fear

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

🎭 Alban Knox: 2/10

if he’s going to take care of a bug you need to make peace with the fact that he will whine the entire time

not a cute fun whine either. he’ll complain the entire time that it’s gross and nasty and ewww yuck ugh!

and that’s just for beetles and caterpillars

show him a spider or something else just as creepy and he will actually scream

and yell as he fumbles around to take care of it

and yell as he eventually grabs it with his hands (he’s panicking a little too hard to get a tool)

and yell as he tries to open the door and throw it outside

this is assuming he doesn’t find a slipper nearby. if he has a tissue or something he’ll smash the bug over and over until it’s pulverized

and he’ll STILL be yelling while he does that

the job gets done but at what cost

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

🐑 Fulgur Ovid: 6/10

he’s not a 6/10 because he dislikes bugs. he’s neutral towards them, not really creeped out by them but not a fan either

he’s a 6/10 because he’s a dick about taking care of them for you

here’s how it usually goes: you summon him to save you from a creepy crawly. he’ll inspect it and go “really, you’re scared of that little thing? look at it closer, it’s just a bug”

and once he quits fooling around he just swipes it up. his fingers are solid steel which allows for Precise Bug Snatching

but he’ll act unsure and go “i think i got it. here, reader, look inside my hand and tell me if you see it”

or even the dreaded move where he pretends he’s bringing the bug closer to you so you have to see it

and THEN once he’s outside he’ll open his hands and go “wait i think i lost it” just to get a rise out of you until he confirms yes, it’s safe and out of the house

if you’re legitimately terrified then he doesn’t even bother with the jokes. just point out the bug and close your eyes, and he’ll be washing his hands while you stare back at a smudge on the wall before you can even get out a sentence

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

🔗 Sonny Brisko: 8/10

somehow both a gentle soul and a complete menace

he's very matter-of-fact when you point them out. "it's just a little jumping spider, no big deal ¯\_(ツ)_/¯"

in fact he's almost adorable with how he quietly talks to the bugs and coaxes them to crawl on his hand so he can get them out of your way

and then he prods and begs you to take a picture of the bug bc it's a cool little guy

surprisingly knowledgeable and can identify bugs easily, so once he's got one in his hands he'll show it to you and tell you some facts about it

which is very sweet except for the fact that it's still a nasty bug and you want it out of your face!

he'll lightly tease you over being so scared of a little bug while he takes them outside. and if it's a pest-eater like a spider he'll hide it in a dark corner out of your sight

overall very kind to bugs and thinks they're friendly

which is why it throws you so hard that sometimes after he coos over them he just FUCKING SMASHES THEM IN HIS PALM?

NO HESITATION AT ALL??

WHAT IS HIS PROBLEM???

also when the bug is taken care of he'll sneak behind you and lightly tap his fingers up your arm like a creepy-crawly and then laugh when you get scared. what a shithead

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

🔮 Uki Violeta: 15/10

the very essence of "i'm not locked in here with you, you're locked in here with ME"

it's like watching a cat hunt an unaware mouse. he's so quick about it

and he's so good at it too?? he'll find the bug, swat it, and throw the remains away in less than a minute on a good day

doesn't even act like it's a big deal either, he just goes back to what he was doing before you asked for help

he uses tissues or shoes on the big ones like roaches, but anything small, he's surprisingly good at crushing them with his bare hands. this is especially funny when he has acrylics on bc those nails never get dirty nor in the way

spiders get the relocation pass, and he'll insist they stay inside, just out of sight

non-zero chance if you complain about it, he'll go on a lecture about how spiders are how you prevent other pests from invading the house

honestly you only see this side of uki once. the bugs are too scared to show their faces after this stint

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

✧. ┊ ⁭masterpost ✧. ┊ ⁭kofi

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voreasaurusrex · 1 month ago

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gtober 12: infestation @madmythologist's moth gets to experience my character marlon's tiny infested house

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mischievouslittlecreature · 1 year ago

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Part 18: Moth

Fandom: Peaky Blinders

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Grace Burgess x OC

Summary: Grace learns that Lucy has a rather uncommon phobia.

Word Count: 770

Notes: So funny story. A couple of months ago we had a bit of a moth infestation in my house. No big deal. Except I keep a glass of water on my nightstand. And one night I go to take a drink, and just before I do I look down, and THERE WAS A MOTH IN MY WATER. I almost DRANK A MOTH. Suffice to say, I was very upset and had to change to keeping a water bottle next to my bed instead until the infestation was taken care of to avoid any other unpleasant surprises ending up in my water in the middle of the night. ANYWAY, this was just a cute little scene that popped into my head while I was drinking my coffee one morning that I wanted to share. No warnings.

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Grace was taking her tea in the sitting room, legs curled underneath her as she balanced a heavy, hardback book in her hands. It had gotten dark out, the sun just dipping below the horizon, and she was beginning to think that she ought to go tell Tommy and Lucy that dinner would be ready soon when a loud thump, followed by a high pitched shriek, sounded from Tommy’s office.

Eyes snapping upwards, she closed her book hastily, standing and half jogging out the room and down the hall, opening the door to the office and poking her head in.

“Is everything…” she trailed off, eyes widening.

Lucy was on the floor, half cowering beside the overturned chair next to her, eyes staring upwards towards the ceiling in horror. Tommy was half bent over his desk, cackling.

“Stop laughing, you asshole!” Lucy whined. “Where did it go?”

“The way you just…just flailed out of your seat…” Tommy wheezed, dimples appearing in his cheeks as he grinned.

“It dive bombed me!”

“It didn’t dive bomb you. It was just going for the light.”

“What’s going on?” Grace asked. Tommy just shot her a wicked grin, standing from his seat and walking around his desk, taking Lucy by the arm and helping to haul her to her feet. She was still looking around the room anxiously.

Something large and gray fluttered down from somewhere on the ceiling, and Lucy screamed, diving behind Tommy.

“Kill it! Kill it!”

Still chucking, he reached behind him with one hand to pat Lucy’s head, snatching the newspaper on his desk with the other, rolling it up. The moth had disappeared back up towards the ceiling again. Lucy’s head swiveled around, trying to find where it had gone. When it came fluttering back down towards them, she whined, scrambling away. Grace opened her arms to her, letting her rush into her chest, smiling to herself as Lucy burrowed against her. There was a thwap as Tommy slapped at the moth with the newspaper.

“There. You happy now? It hadn’t even done anything to you,” he said, tossing the rolled up newspaper back onto the desk.

“It could have landed on me and laid eggs in my hair!”

“I think the chances of that were highly unlikely, love,” Tommy chuckled, glancing over at Lucy, still cowering against Grace’s chest, and grinned. “Take a good look, Grace. The Red Demon. Feared by all in Small Health. Reduced to a shrieking mess by a tiny moth.”

Lucy pouted, looking up at her with wide dark green eyes. “Grace, Tommy’s being mean to me.”

Grace laughed at their childishness, giving Lucy a squeeze. “He is, isn’t he, love?” she shot Tommy a playful glare.

“Oi! Who just killed the damn moth for you?” he righted the chair that had been knocked over, striding over to them and giving a fond ruffling of Lucy’s red curls. Lucy was still sulking a little, but she blinked up at Tommy affectionately.

“Thank you, Tommy.”

“Mhm,” he was still smiling softly to himself, leaning down to kiss Lucy’s temple before angling his head around to give Grace a peck.

Lucy let go of her, though she continued to glance at the dark corners of the office warily, as if expecting at any point another moth to come swooping down at her.

“I didn’t know you were afraid of moths,” Grace commented.

“I’m not afraid of moths,” Lucy insisted. Tommy snickered. She shot him a glare. “I’m highly and rationally concerned about moths.”

“Yes, the way you fell out of your chair at the sight of one looked very rational,” Tommy teased. Lucy crossed her arms, huffing. “Aw, love, come here,” he laughed, wrapping an arm around her and squeezing her into his chest. She still pouted against him, but Grace could see her already beginning to soften. The disgruntled façade slipping as Tommy embraced her. “I’m just fucking with you.”

“We’ll kill as many moths for you as you want,” Grace concurred. Lucy snorted out a tiny laugh.

“Thanks.”

“Mhm,” Grace kissed her cheek. “Dinner will be ready soon,” her voice trembled with the laugh she was trying to contain. Tommy let Lucy go.

“Alright. We’re done with work for today anyway.” Lucy, forever easily enticed and motivated by the promise of food, eagerly took Grace’s outstretched hand. Grace glanced over her shoulder, grinning with amusement over at Tommy. His cheeks stretched with his smile, chuckling and shaking his head fondly. Squeezing her fingers, Grace guided her out of the office and down the hall towards the dining room, Tommy’s heavy footfalls right behind them.

Previous Part • Series • Next Part

Thank you for reading! Please consider leaving a comment, reblog, or like. I always appreciate feedback and love getting the opportunity to interact with you and hear your thoughts!

#tommy shelby #grace burgess #peaky blinders #my ocs #lucy winters #tommy shelby x oc #grace burgess x oc #tommy shelby x grace burgess x oc #lucy winters x tommy shelby #lucy winters x grace burgess #lucy winters x tommy shelby x grace burgess #my fanfiction #fanfiction #moth

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i-hear-humming · 2 months ago

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"I... hear... humming."

"Buzzing... buzzing..."

ooc under cut

Name: Kagayaki

Age: Unknown, <10

Ability: Entomologists: similar to Chuuya, their ability is not their own, rather, a Singularity hive-mind of sorts called the Collective Radiant that latched onto them against their will, first appearing to them in a dream. It yearns to expand, taking control of all it can. Unfortunately, it underestimated Kagayaki's strength of will to remain in control.

It grants them the ability to control and speak to insects. They do have a corruption-adjacent form known as 'infestation,' though this has never happened to them. And we had better keep it that way because they don't have a Dazai.

A quiet, eerie child with an affinity for insects, particularly moths. They claim to be able to hear their tiny six-legged 'friends' in their mind, humming, buzzing, clicking away. They see the Collective Radiant as an enigmatic, but not evil, figure. Merely an animal seeking to reproduce. They don't know the only way it could reproduce is via taking over Kagayaki's body and possessing every insect in a thirty-foot radius. They see the Collective Radiant in their dreams and treat it as a sort of pet, keeping it alive and happy in exchange for power and tiny friends. They have a habit of eating moth food (like leaves and rotting wood) believing it will help the Collective Radiant stay alive, not knowing it's a Singularity.

mod: @sugarthebee

this blog may contain themes of disordered eating(? unsure if it counts but better safe than sorry,) body horror, child neglect/abuse, and bugs. lots of bugs. seriously get out of here if you don't like bugs

#bsd #bsd oc #bungou stray dogs #bungou stray dogs oc #they call themselves metamorphosis #tw body horror #tw child neglect #tw bugs #tw moths

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ethernetmeep · 4 months ago

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being the last person awake in a household is a peaceful state, to me. younger versions of self would equate it to being the scariest time, the house dark & suddenly shifted from what i knew in the morning hours, obstacles i never thought present. it has changed throughout this lifetime. now, it is the second most free state i can be in; besides nobody else being home, of course.

step outside; breeze stagnant, darkness prevalent. streetlights & lamp outside of screen door are the only sources of luminescence. insects gather, i inspect. two different species of june bug, one golden, one brown. gently scoop up the golden variant. cute. tiny antennae almost look like eyelashes. even more adorable. the creature doesn’t wish to leave my hand, until i perch it upon wood. miscellaneous moths fly about. i hear rustling in the woods. whisper a small “goodnight” out to the world enveloping me. every spider, every moth, every june bug, every flower, every droplet of water, every bird hidden up in trees, every person sleeping. i hope that, by staying awake, i can keep someone safe in some convoluted way.

once i step inside, i find an earwig on the screen door; infestation among mold. common in the summer. mold a nuisance; feel terrible for killing earwigs. they breed in excess. take small tweezers, pick up the earwig this way. drop it outside. find a cricket awaiting on the stone next to screen door. examine it quietly. don’t move to pick it up, as it could end up inside— an instance that can only result in its injury. i admire from afar

now here i am, writing about it. i realize writing can ultimately ruin the sentiment, but there is not much else i can do. if i don’t write, i feel as if i am lying or withholding something important— because i am. every moment, big or small, is important to me. i need to write, i need to speak. this way, via blog of unimportance, is the best. it means i have an archive of my life.

i can only hope that, by staying up throughout the night, [it is too late for me to sleep now; i am wired to the task at hand] i am keeping watch over something.

and i am, in a way. i keep watch over asbestos & radium, they themselves keepers of memories. i keep watch over rosie. i watch her as she brings me a dead camel cricket which, besides the missing back leg, is generally in prime condition. very well could be the one from outside, which… if so, a very expected example as per written above. i keep watch over events i keep safely stored by being awake. i hold a small book in hands and think, my god, i am alive. i am loving, and i am alive. who would’ve thought to seen the day, and to have it be real?

i am… thankful to be where i am. i am thankful to be alive. i am thankful to look up into the night sky, and realize perfection is out there; i just had to find it

#cyber meeps #personal favorite

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fearlesstigerquotev · 5 months ago

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Winterkälte

A Horror Oneshot

Warnings: Mild goreNotes: Reader pronouns used are he/him, written in third person POV. masterlist

The golden rays of dusk had distorted into drab grey by the time they arrived at the alpine hut. A father, his son, and their dog stumbled forward—fur jackets drenched with sweat and melted snow. It clung to their bodies like leeches, biting into their flesh and stinging their skin. The boy's complexion mottled an ugly puce, splotches of purple had already formed on his lips. His shrill complaints drilled into his father's ears before the latter threw him a tiny sausage to satiate his hunger. Only the dog showed no signs of discomfort—it rolled around in the snowbed without a care in the world; typical behavior.

(Name's)—the father's—trained eyes scanned the horizon. From North to South, craggy peaks rose as far as the eye could see, draped in a sheet of ice and snow. He recognized some of them, he had visited this alpine hut with his father and grandfather before. Schreckhorn and Kleiner Schreckhorn were the names of the distant peaks, if his foggy memory served him right. If he squinted, he could see his mountain village nestled in the valley below—smoke billowed from multiple chimneys. He wondered if his extended family had already gone to bed.

Unbroken white covered the land, only broken by the occasional dark patch of forest. It was foolish of him to have strayed away from the established trail, but his son had insisted that they take the longer, more scenic route. Not that he blamed him—it was his first time joining his father on this trip. Eyes lit up with awe and wonder, the father could not resist the temptation of letting his son explore the wilderness. After all, he needed to become acquainted with the route—his son, his grandson, and their sons would need to maintain the hiking trail for generations to come. Every curve, every dip in the road had to be hammered into their minds in case they ever met a lost traveler in the mountains. Then, they would have to guide the lost soul back to the alpine hut and prepare them a warm meal, provide them with medical attention, new clothes.

The wind picked up, and the dog barked. His son tugged at the sleeve of his jacket, yelling at him to open the door. (Name) turned and twisted at the ice-covered doorknob, the metal slipping between his fingers. Strange, this used to be easier in his youth. After many attempts, the trio floundered into the dry hut. Almost instantly, the boy disposed of his drenched jacket and ran into the rickety kitchen in search of water and food. The dog stood guard outside, scratching its ears with its hind legs; typical behavior. Meanwhile, the father grumbled and placed both their jackets in front of the fireplace, before sparking a flame.

The fledgling flame sputtered at first, wavering against the chill that permeated the hut's bones. Yet (Name) nursed it, feeding it tender scraps of timber and brittle tinder. Gradually, it took hold, orange tongues licking up the logs akin to how his dog licks up the scraps thrown its way. A comforting warmth blossomed from the hearth, banishing the pervasive cold. It caressed the father's numb, frozen skin, thawing the icy ache in his old joints. He exhaled in satisfaction as feeling returned to his fingertips, the fire's heat penetrating deeper, massaging away the day's exertions.

Like a moth attracted to the flame, the son came bouncing toward the hearth, holding a batch of biscuits in his hand. Annoyed, the father scolded him for eating the food reserved for travelers. But the boy complained that there was no more food left in the pantry, nor water. And even that was infested with worms, rendering it undrinkable for the lowest vermins of Earth. Only a few bottles of whiskey sat in the cupboard, and the boy refused to let the alcohol slip past his purple lips.

This wasn't normal. Had a fox found its way inside and ate the dried meat? Or a wolf? Did he forget to fill the barrel with fresh water from his last trip? The man pursed his lips and swung his jacket over his shoulders—they had been given barely enough time to soak up the fire's heat. With a gruff cough, he told his son to stay indoors, and not open the door until he returned. The boy asked where he was going. "To the creek," replied (Name), "to gather fresh water for us." "How about just melting the snow from outside?" "No. Too dirty. Besides, I'll bring back some fish if I'm lucky. Yes, fish stew will warm us up in no time." The creek flowed all year round inside a forest, so there existed no fear of it freezing over. There was no need for the boy to worry, it was a short walk away, and besides, the dog would keep him company.

The boy protested, he wouldn't let his father walk off into the endless woods. Especially not with night approaching. But (Name) dismissed his concerns, securing his son's survival was more important. Parental instincts were such a strange phenomenon—he couldn't let his son die of thirst. The father had walked that path at least a thousand times during his youth; saying that he was well-acquainted with the mountains was an understatement. (Name) grabbed a flask and was almost out the door when he had a second thought. Maybe he should bring a lantern? No need, he'd make it back before darkness settled, or so he convinced himself.

The boy and the dog watched him leave for the forest. He was right—the boy could hear a little trickle of water running in the distance. Or was it the wind? He wondered when his father would return.

Above him, the clouds darkened, covering the sky in black ink.

(Name) continued through the level forest for several kilometers. Then he went down a bank to the frozen path of a small stream. Around him stood towering pine trees, their short leaves and pinecones glistening with a soft powder of snow.

How peculiar, the stream had frozen over. Maybe the weather was colder than usual. The man speared the ice with a wooden branch. Then he bent down and filled his flask with fresh water. Internally, he scolded himself for not bringing a second flask. Perhaps the boy could come here tomorrow with the barrel.

The clear water burbled merrily as it flowed over the sheet of ice and smoothened pebbles. But its cheerful demeanor concealed its biting chill. As the man dipped his flask into the stream, icy droplets sprang forth and spattered his mittens. The wet wool clung to his skin, soaking through to his flesh beneath. The cold was a knife's edge, slicing into his numb fingers. It stole the meager warmth he had regained, replacing it with an aching, bone-deep freeze.

He grimaced, flexing his fingers within the sodden mittens. Oh, how he longed to cast them away, but that was out of the question.

So he endured, grunting as the cold sliced his skin like a butcher's blade. He focused on thoughts of the fire, recalling its tender kiss on his frigid skin. The memory sustained him as he secured the now-full flask and rose on creaking knees.

But when he turned to return, his heart sank into his frozen boots. While preoccupied, a fresh coat of snow had stealthily fallen, concealing his footsteps in a featureless blanket of white. The sun had dipped below the horizon, abandoning him to the pitch-black night.

Had it always been so dark? Did the stars shift, or was his imagination playing tricks on him?

Panic rose in his throat. At the sub-zero alpine temperature, hypothermia could set in within a moment's notice. How long did it take him to reach the creek? Half an hour.

He had to move, now.

Though his mind churned with rising panic, the man forced himself to focus. (Name) noted each twist and turn of the frozen creek, etching the landscape into memory. The silhouette of the treeline, branches clawing at the night sky. They reached out to grab him. The positions of the stars overhead, their faint light just enough to illuminate hazards underfoot. The crunch of snow beneath boots, the wet chill needling his skin, the faint whiff of woodsmoke teasing his nostrils. Step after precarious step, he pressed forward, trusting his honed awareness to preclude a misstep. His life now hinged on keen sight, touch, smell—senses locked in a singular purpose, to spit in Death's face and live to see his son.

His knees buckled without warning, spilling him face-first into the snow's embrace. The powder swallowed him greedily, soaking through his jacket, saturating every fiber with mind-numbing cold. The wet fabric clung to him, heavy and constricting, leaching away his fading body heat. He gasped as the chill pierced his skin like a thousand frozen needles, freezing the very marrow in his bones. Violent shivers wracked his exhausted body. Bleak despair flooded his mind, the cruel mountain indifferent to his cries.

He cursed himself for leaving in the dead of night, for being too arrogant to turn back sooner. Visions of his son and dog huddled by the fire taunted him—so close, yet hopelessly out of reach. He laughed at his own foolishness. As he laughed, he noted the numbness in his concealed fingers. He wondered whether they were warm or whether they were numb. He moved them inside the mittens and decided that they were numb.

Fire. He needed fire.

Was this the panic his ancestors felt? Hopeless to the whims of Mother Nature?

Clenching and unclenching his hands, he forced a sliver of feeling back into his hands. He didn't want to look at them, he knew they were frostbitten. With a loud grunt, the father forced himself to his feet and trudged toward one of the pine trees. Around him, the blizzard raged, the winds howling in his ears. In the distance, he swore he heard the dog barking, and his son shouting for him to take another step.

One.

Two.

He couldn't anymore.

(Name) collapsed against the side of an ancient pine tree, chest heaving up and down. A few pinecones lay scattered around, which he picked up promptly. Fishing out a box of matches, he soon had a little fire going. The pinecones burned reluctantly, the resin snapping and popping as (Name) coaxed the balky tinder alight. Flames sputtered from the cones in fits and starts, writhing weakly before being smothered by wisps of inky smoke. The meager fire crackled and hissed, devouring the cones in smoldering, lackluster gulps. The smoke, pungent and cloying, clawed at his throat and stung his eyes. He could taste the acrid pine tar coating his tongue. It certainly was still cold, was his thought. But he was safe.

First, he melted the ice off his eyes and nose—or, at least tried to. The heat was nowhere near enough to remove all the icicles, but it was a welcome change nonetheless. (Name) rubbed his hands in front of the fire, praying that it would give him strength to breathe one more breath, walk one more step, live one more second. He looked like a newborn fawn, struggling to move, dependent on warmth. He fed the flame with pinecones the size of his finger. In another minute he would be able to feed it with larger branches. Afterward, he would throw in a log, then a tree, then another tree another tree—another tree—burn down the forest—melt the snow; bask in the warmth—laugh in the face of the Devil; laugh in the face of Death—see his son and pet his dog—walk—back down the mountain; back to the village, soak in a hot tub and eat the finest meals known to mankind—just another pinecone—another one—

There were none left.

No more. None at all.

Please, if there's a God, save me! thought the man as he desperately blew on the embers.

But before he could blink, it happened. It was his own fault, or rather, his mistake. He should not have built the fire under the pine tree. He should have built it in an open space. But it had been easier to pick the pinecones from the base of the trunk and drop them directly on the fire.

Now, this tree in particular carried a sizable amount of snow on its branches. And even his son would know what happens to snow in the presence of fire.

High in the branches, a single mound of snow slipped loose, crashing down on limbs below. This triggered a chain reaction, the impacts shuddering through the tree, dislodging more of the frozen white. It built into an avalanche that plummeted without warning upon the unsuspecting man and the fire. The fire died. Atop its grave lay a lump of fresh snow.

The man was too stunned to speak.

He was all alone.

Alone.

Shivering.

In the Alps.

Without a fire.

In soaking clothes.

Caught in a blizzard.

Had the air always been so cold?

Yes. No. Always. Never. Yes.

No more cold. No more cold. No more cold.

In one swift motion, he ripped the sodden mittens from his hands with chattering teeth. Cradling the matchbox, he sandwiched it between his bare palms - the only part of him not yet frozen stiff. Arm muscles burning with exertion, he scraped the box forcefully along its rough striking edge. The matches erupted in a single brilliant flare, all ninety igniting at once! (Name) blinked against the sudden flare, eyes stinging. But something was wrong. The flames, fueled by an unholy force, engulfed his hands, searing the flesh and melting the sinew. The smell of burning flesh filled the air, and the smoke rose to the high heavens. From the comfort of the alpine hut, it must have looked like an ordinary campfire. The father screamed in agony, his eyes watering from the acrid stench. Could his son see him? Hear him? Or could the dog catch a whiff of his blood and flesh, leading the boy to his location? But wait. None of that mattered anymore. He had fire. He had warmth. And it felt so damn good.

Nothing could stop him now. His battered knees sprung to life as he raced through the woods. He felt as though he were flying. He grew a pair of wings and zipped through the trees. Faster and faster. In the corner of his eyes, he saw a wolf. A big one. Black. Black eyes. Black fur. I'll race you! You'll never catch me! Not you, or your pack!

(Name) cackled as he ran. Before he knew it, he had reached the alpine hut. The man threw aside the matches and banged on the door with all his might, yelling at his son with a sing-song voice to open the damned door. His hands were red, purple, blue, blistered, frost-bitten—anything and everything at once.

Bang!

The skin peeled off like wet paper.

Bang!

Revealing the muscles underneath. Pulsating muscles, glistening with a sickly sheen.

Bang!

Then the muscles fell off, and the bones clattered against the door frame. Brittle bones. Clattering to the floor like splinters.

He heard the dog barking inside. It was alive! But why won't his son open the door! Open up! I'll gut you up and plunge my hand in your stomach if you don't open the door this instant! I need warmth! My skin is burnt! I don't care! Your muscles and skin shall be used to make a new hand, new body—your soul shall become one with mine! I see you staring at me through the window! Why are you scared! It's me, your father! I have the water! In the flask! From the creek! See! You want my clothes? Take them! I don't need them anymore! Damn it! Son! Open the door!

He stopped. It was useless. The wolf had caught up to him. But it didn't snarl. (Name) looked down at his hand—now a charred stump. Bone. Cracks in the bone. Bone marrow. Ha. Ha. Ha.

He slumped to his knee and the wolf did so as well. Strange, why was this wild animal so docile? Like a dog. His dog. Good boy.

Would his son ever find his body? Would the dog lick him awake? And what is this wolf doing here?

Ah, no matter. This is comfortable. There are worse ways to die.

Snow fell from the roof above. In front of the door stood a lump of snow. And next to it, lay the wolf.

#horror #oneshot #horror stories #original story #thriller #suspense #reader insert #male reader #horror short

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pandorkful-dolls · 1 year ago

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youtube

Here's a pretty good 5 minute video on preventing bugs from eating your needle felted creations...

And here's a more intensive guide. I was especially drawn to this subsection:

let moth's natural enemy help you If you have a tough moth infestation, the natural enemies of the moth can help you fight it: the parasitic wasps (Trichogramma evanescens). These tiny animals are a flightless subspecies of wasps, that lay their eggs in the eggs and larvae of the clothes moth and kill them. The wasps themselves are smaller than half a millimeter and die or disappear as soon as they can no longer find moth eggs. They do not leave any damage on clothing and shake off when worn and become part of the house dust. So don't worry, this won't be a vermin invasion. The little animals are your best friend when you have a heavy moth infestation and you do not need to worry ever seeing one. You can buy the parasitic wasps on small cards on the Internet. They hatch three days up to one week after shipping.

Golly! :O

But mostly I went to this page for the full list of scents moths hate:

Natural helpers such as lavender, laurel, cloves, cedarwood, or peppermint turn wardrobes into a smelly cubbyhole for moths. And make sure to renew the aromas regularly.

#needle felting #needlefelting #wool moth prevention #Youtube

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jupiterswasphouse · 2 years ago

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A wonderfully tiny guy!! I do believe this is a moth if I'm seeing the details right! I HAVE BEEN FOOLED, THIS IS A FLY- Honestly shoulda known that because I've seen MANY drain flies/moth flies before, I had a bit of an infestation before! My bad y'all!

Thank you to @crevicedwelling for correcting my mistake!

#Insects #Insect #Bugs #Bug #Entomology #Arthropods #Photo #Photos #Wasp House Sights #Flies #Fly #Diptera #Psychodidae

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kassil · 1 year ago

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For @ofstarstuff, from the Whispering Infinities:

A moth with delicately colored wings, which swirl and shift as it gently fans them. They're hypnotic to the creatures on which the moth preys, the mites and similar that infest the living libraries of the past; where those creatures would damage the repositories in their hunger, the moth safeguards them, resting on the carapace of organic storage units, sometimes accidentally triggering recitations of data as their tiny legs mimic an ancient command. Readily trained to keep watch for similar pests, if retrieved while young, and their own offspring will learn from their parent and continue their protection.

#whispering infinities #bespoke fiction #microfiction #flash fiction

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pestcontrolbloguk · 2 years ago

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pest control blog

How To Get Rid of Rats in Drains: Expert Tips & Solutions

Identifying Mouse Droppings: Potential Hazards and How to Clean Up Safely

Rat Droppings: The Hazards of Inhaling or Touching Rat Faeces

Expert Advice on How To Get Rid of Rats From Home and Garden

Pigeon Lifespan: How long do pigeons live?

How Do Flea Bombs Work? The Pros and Cons of Flea Bombing

How Long Do Flies Live?

Do Mice Hibernate?

Field Mice: How to Identify and Control

Bed Bugs: How to Identify, Control, and Treat

Understanding the Bed Bug Cycle and How to Kill Bed Bugs

Where Do Bed Bugs Come From And How Do You Get Bed Bugs?

The History of Bed Bugs

Locate and Destroy the Bugs: Bed Bugs

Heat Treating for Bed Bugs: Pros and Cons

How to Identify Bed Bug Bites and Recognise the Signs

Bites in the Bed: Identifying Bed Bug Bites

Treatment of Bed Bugs – Effective Solutions

How to Get Rid of Bed Bug Bites Overnight

How to Effectively Treat Bed Bugs: DIY and Professional Solutions

Uncovering the Mysteries of Bed Bugs: From Diagnosis to Prevention

Pest Advice For Controlling Rats

Common Mouse Species Found in The UK

Mouse Control: What are the Best Mouse Exterminators and Repellents?

Mouse Identification Chart to Quickly Identify UK Mouse Species

How to Get Rid of Mice: The Benefits of Different Mouse Traps, Repellents, and Baits

Identifying Fox Den Locations in the Garden to Keep the Foxes Away

Types of Earwigs and Their Habitats

Identifying Different Types of Crab Spiders

Identifying Fly Eggs: How to Spot an Infestation

How to Identify House Crickets Infestation and Take Action to Stop Them

A Guide to Identifying Big Spiders in The UK

How to Tell If You Have a Roach Infestation and When to Hire an Exterminator

Choosing the Right Pest Control Services: Tips and Advice for Homeowners

Debunking Common Myths About Spider Bites in the UK

Flea Spray For Home: Professional Tips for Controlling Fleas

The Best Tips for Setting Up a Humane Mouse Trap in Your Home

Baby Pigeon: How To Humanely Remove Baby Pigeons From Your Home

Effective Ways to Deal with an Ant Infestation in Home and Business

Rat In Garden In Daylight: Tips for Making Your Garden Rat-Proof

How to Get Rid of a Wasp Nest: A Guide to Safe and Effective Wasp Control

The Most Effective Treatment of Bed Bugs: What You Need to Know

Types Of Fly – What Are the Different Types of Flies In The UK?

Small Tiny Brown Bugs In House UK

How To Get Rid Of Ants In Kitchen

What Do Bed Bugs Look Like?

The Dangers of Pests: How to Protect Yourself from the Health Hazards They Bring

Don’t Take Pests Lightly – A Comprehensive Look at the Health Dangers They Pose

The Hidden Health Risks of Pest Infestations: The Link Between Disease and Rodents, Insects, and Other Pests

How To Get Rid Of a Mouse?

What is the best way to get rid of rats at home?

How to deal with rat in garden in daylight

Who Is Responsible For Rats In a Rented Property

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Wolf Spider UK: Bon Accord Pest Control, Wolf Spider Control Experts

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House Spider UK – Control and Removal

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Do Mice Usually Go Upstairs

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Best Rat Poison In The UK

Bed Bug On Mattress – How To Get Rid Of Them

Fox Deterrent And Repellents That Actually Work

How To Eradicate Bed Bugs In The Home – Bed Bug Removal

6 Signs You Have a Bed Bug Infestation – Bed Bug Exterminator Advice

Why Hiring a Professional Exterminator is the Best Way to Treat Bed Bugs

8 Bed Bugs Treatment Options

How to Avoid Bringing Bed Bugs Home from a Hotel – Bed Bugs Killers

How to Get Rid of Ants and Keep Ants Out of Your Home

#pest control #rat pest control #pest management #pests

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