#cluster bee hive

[dodgeryy]

Let's settle this home boys.

[beeapocalypse]

dont really have an idea for Why haalmen are bug guys yet but mmmaybe roly polies served as incidental pollinators as they rambled about scavenging food and Thats why theyve got the fluffy mass of setae (scopa) at the end of their tails

[bogleech]

Many parasites takeover the minds and bodies of insects, spiders or other creatures, making them like zombies. You’ve listed some in spider-ween and other places. Do you know any parasites that take over bees? I know wasps lay their eggs in their larva, but haven’t really found anything about those that pilot a bee’s body.

Strepsipterans! Also frequently just called "Stylops"

These are the weirdest most alien insect group in existence. What you're seeing are the head ends of the mature females; their bodies are just bags of tissue that absorb nutrients from the host, so they no longer have any trace of limbs or wings and their flat little heads no longer have mouths or eyes.

The only reason the female's heads stick out of the host at all is because the head evolved into the end they mate with. The short-lived mature male is a very tiny flying thing (whose anatomy is unlike any other insect alive today - a totally unique type of wing, unique eye arrangement, we have NO idea what these evolved from, except for some loose connections to beetles!) who mates by breaking through the female's featureless armored face with his bladed genitalia and then he dies. And Strepsiptera can be found infecting all sorts of arthropods, even apparently some arachnids, but none of those arthropods really tend to sit still when a little tiny flying man tries to land on them, so the females usually do something to their hosts (we aren't sure what exactly) to make them slower and more complacent. Social Hymenoptera like bees are especially common hosts though, and when a worker bee or wasp is infected by stylops, she actually abandons her colony and her duties for extended periods of time to just perch in one place while the parasite broadcasts its mating pheromones. This is especially eerie from the bee's perspective; a worker bee is a female bee that wasn't allowed to become a queen and isn't "supposed" to be going around mating, but now she's sitting around waiting for a male just like any other bug that wants to be a mom. It's just not a male of her species and she's not the one who gets to reproduce. Is the parasite tapping into buried queen behavior? Does the bee's little brain think it's calling for a drone to help it start a new hive? Or does the parasite just make the bee a lazy slob who stops caring about her hive and just feels like chilling out on a flower all day? We might never know.

Here are those unique eyes of the male for anyone wondering. Not set in a fine multifaceted grid like in other insects, but clustered, still set in their own individual "sockets" like we see in much more ancient arthropods like trilobites! This suggests that Strepsipteran eyes date back to when insects were first beginning to evolve towards true compound eyes, but there still aren't many insects in the fossil record that have anything else in common with these animals. EDIT: oh yeah I forgot to include that these are in the children's book made by @revretch and I!

I did the rough pencil sketch of this page while Rev did the beautiful inks! I felt kids should know about these animals but I tried to explain it in the most kid-friendly way possible.

[edosianorchids901]

Survive and Thrive

@sherlocktember2024 prompt - "bees"

Whenever it became necessary to force Holmes to take a holiday, he had a habit of vanishing periodically. He went for walks alone, wandered off to investigate a new interest, or simply found some quiet place where he could avoid everyone, Watson included.

Watson had gotten used to it after so many years together, and took no offense. Holmes hated being away from Baker Street, and hated not working. It tended to make him somewhat irascible.

Today, though, he had not reappeared after a few hours, and Watson began to worry. He had spent his own afternoon alternating between reading a yellow-backed novel and catching up on medical journals. He tended to neglect his own reading during busy patches, and this had been a busy patch.

Finally, though, the twist of anxiety in his stomach overruled his ability to focus. What if Holmes had not merely gone for a walk or gotten enraptured by a friendly horse in a neighboring field, but had collapsed?

His health was poor, after all, his body badly strained by this latest round of overwork. He continued to suffer from sudden, severe fatigue, as well as bouts of pain that sometimes grew so unbearable that he cried out. If he had been stricken by another such attack, he might be unable to return to the holiday cottage.

Watson put on his hat, snatched Holmes’ favorite blanket off the sofa, and jogged outside. Holmes had apparently taken his cane, which meant he most likely was not somewhere inside the cottage. Unlike yesterday, when Watson had found him in a previously unnoticed attic going through old letters that had belonged to some past owner.

The garden near the house seemed a good place to start looking, and Watson took a full circle around the cottage. In a way, this very much reminded him of his army days, of going out to search for wounded soldiers. At least he wouldn’t find Holmes bleeding to death.

Theoretically. If there was anyone who could manage to nearly bleed to death while on holiday, it was certainly Holmes.

Finally, Watson caught sight of the familiar figure and gave a sigh of relief. Holmes sat on a low garden wall, deep in the study of a cluster of sunflowers. All was well, then, and quite normal. Holmes occasionally lapsed into contemplation of flowers or plants, and usually emerged with some sort of philosophical lecture.

“No, I have not collapsed in a field somewhere,” Holmes said as Watson approached. He did not look up from the sunflowers. “I am merely appreciating the garden.”

“That’s good. Time in nature is supposed to be very healing.” Watson shook out the blanket and wrapped it around Holmes, then rested a hand on his shoulder. “I should be glad to join you, if I would not be in the way.”

“You are never in the way, my dear Watson.” Holmes flashed a quick smile at him, then indicated the empty spot on the wall beside him. “I do advise a little caution.”

“Caution?”

“Mm. I doubt the bees would take kindly to being sat upon.”

Watson cast an alarmed look at the wall, then at Holmes. “I did not trap any underneath your blanket, did I?”

“If you had, I believe I would know about it by now.”

Cautiously, Watson stepped across the wall, eyed it again, and then sat. He could hear the low buzz of bees now, a handful of them drifting from sunflower to sunflower. He glanced at Holmes again, and smiled. “Is that what you’re watching so intently? Bees?”

“Mm.” The briefest of smiles twitched onto Holmes’ face. “Bees work exceptionally hard, Watson. They are tireless, endlessly devoted to their work.”

“Bees do not take holidays, I presume.”

“No, no. They work for all their lives, and do not idle away precious time on pursuits that matter not.” Holmes held out a hand near the sunflowers. A bee brushed against his fingertips, investigating the new arrival, and then returned to collecting pollen. “All that they do matters, Watson. Each task they complete helps the hive to survive and thrive.”

“I would guess that the many people who you have helped to ‘survive and thrive’ would think that all you do matters, Holmes.”

Holmes pursed his lips. “At the moment, I do not do anything. True, I have not had a worthy opponent since Moriarty, but my more commonplace work accomplishes some little good. My sitting here idle and wallowing, however…”

Affection tugged at Watson’s heart, and he gently settled an arm around Holmes’ shoulders. “You are not a bee, old man. You cannot simply work continuously until you die.”

“Mm. I think I should prefer that.”

“I would not,” Watson said with a shudder. “I want you to live much, much longer than a bee.”

Holmes started a little, as if broken out of his trance, and then gave Watson a small, apologetic smile. “Of course. Forgive me, Watson. I am merely a little melancholy.”

“Are you in much pain?”

“Yes, and very tired. I suppose I must rest if I, too, am to survive and thrive.” Letting out a long breath, Holmes leaned into the embrace. “I cannot accomplish any good if I am too sick to work.”

“You must indeed rest.” Watson hugged him closer, careful not to use too much pressure. Holmes was even more sensitive to touch when in pain. “But you’re not entirely correct. You do a great deal of good for me just by living, old man.”

“Ah.” Holmes flashed another smile at him. “Thank you. Perhaps I might do more good for you by entertaining you with interesting facts about bees?”

Chuckling, Watson turned back to watch the bees at work while he listened. “I should be delighted.”

[finnhc]

GreenOak 1.21! Updated

This just in! GreenOak has officially updated to 1.21! And not just that we've also updated our server into a 2.0 State!

The map is the same as before, but we have polished a lot of our features and made sure things would be far better this time! We are even working towards making the custom music discs better! (Though those are a work in progress!)

We now have a custom world just for player built minigames and rides! Here you can make as many games or rides you want!

We also have a shopping district where you can build up to three different shops! using a brand new shop plugin! (There is a tutorial provided in the server info tab!)

Along with shops and a gaming district we have an amazing Event world! With building events and minigames such as spleef and trivia!

Now that we have covered all the exciting worlds we have, now to go over some new features!

Added the ability to climb chains

Killer bunnies now spawn randomly

Creepers have a chance to spawn in the Nether

You can now check how many bees are in a hive

Shulkers Respawn

You can Silk Touch Amethyst clusters now

Shulkermites if a endermite is left on a purpur block for long enough it will enter the block turning it into a shulker

Bats have a random chance of biting you one time

You can now mix stones for tools

You can now drop dirt into a couldron to make mud

Husks drop sand

More effective tools (i.e things that should break faster with a specific tool but didn't now does)

Glass always drops when broken

Thunderstorm you can start thunderstorms when you throw a channeling trident at build height upwards (Consumes 150 or 60% Durability)

Bedrock Ip: mc.greenoak.life Port: 19132

Java Ip: mc.greenoak.life

[mindblowingscience]

A Leeds researcher is keen to help beekeepers shape their practices following his study which appears to disprove the widespread belief that honeybees naturally insulate their colonies against the cold. His findings suggest that the creatures are potentially being subjected to thermally-induced stress. University of Leeds Ph.D. student Derek Mitchell is calling for further debate on the ethical treatment of insects, saying his research appears to contradict the widely accepted theory that the bees' reaction to cold temperatures is to form layers of insulation—an idea that has led to them being housed in hives that are extremely poorly insulated compared to their natural habitat. The study, which is published in the Journal of the Royal Society Interface, looks at honeybee "clusters"—where the insects huddle together, forming dense disks between the combs, to try to keep some of them above 18°C when the outside temperature drops. For almost 120 years, the outer layer of honeybees in the winter cluster—known as the mantle—has been said to insulate the cluster core—the honeybees at the center.

Continue Reading.

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

Bee Mandala - Gwyllm Llwydd

* * * *

“If they’re here—all females in a winter hive—they’re clustered together inside (an oak tree), queen at the heart of their sisterhood. The fine, transparent wings they beat hard in summer’s heat—a constant buzzing fan to keep the hive from cooking—they hold, now, folded and still. The tiny muscles to which those wings are attached shiver. One honey bee shivering her flight muscles does not make much heat. But twenty thousand, huddled together, shivering, can keep the queen and the colony’s honey supply at their core at a tropical ninety-two degrees Fahrenheit, even as blizzard winds, inches away, flail the trunk.”

–Gayle Boss, "All Creation Waits: The Advent Mystery of New Beginnings", p. 14

[enigmaticexplorer]

I Yearn, and so I Fear - Epilogue

Masterlist | Previous Chapter

General Summary. Nearly a year since the Galactic Empire’s rise to power, Kazi Ennari is trying to survive. But her routine is interrupted—and life upended—when she’s forced to cohabitate with former Imperial soldiers. Clone soldiers. 

Pairing. Commander Wolffe x female!OC

General Warnings. Canon-typical violence and assault, familial struggles, terminal disease, bigotry, explicit sexual content, death. This story deals with heavy content. If you’re easily triggered, please do not read. For a more comprehensive list of tags, click here.

Fic Rating. E (explicit)/18+/Minors DNI.

Chapter Word Count. 4.2K

A Like without a Reblog will result in an automatic block.

Three Years Later

28 Melona

“Another year, Wolf’ika.” Cody paused on the grassy path and appraised the orchard. “You should be proud of this.”

Wolffe flashed his vod a smile. “I am.”

In the six months since Cody last visited, the citrus-star trees had matured past their two-year adolescence into adulthood. Their trunks had thickened into sturdy structures larger than Neyti’s body; the lowest branches skimmed Wolffe’s head.

Wolffe and Kazi had planted the twenty seeds together but the orchard was his responsibility. Hours researching Ceaia’s nutrient-rich soil, speaking with local farmers, tilling the soil, and caring for the seeds paid off. The orchard produced bunches of citrus-stars monthly. Enough for his family. And enough to sell at the local farmer’s market. 

“I’ve added a new beehive,” Wolffe said. He gestured to the end of the row where an amber hive hung from a branch, well hidden among the dense cluster of leaves. It was his fifth hive. And his most productive. “It’s done well.”

“To know that you did become a farmer…” Cody chuckled his incredulity. “I didn’t think it was possible.”

Wolffe inclined his chin in agreement. 

While Kazi worked at Outlook Harbor’s Museum of History and Neyti attended school, Wolffe spent his days out here alone: tending the orchard; nurturing the garden’s assortment of fruits, vegetables, and herbs (for both meals and Nova’s research); monitoring the bees. ‘Til Fox interrupted. Then his quiet and solitude were ruined. 

But the early morning hours, after his run, he had to himself. Just him and the lazing leaves and the humming bees. 

“Kazi and Neyti?” Cody asked. They hadn’t been at the house when he landed half an hour ago.

“Weekly lessons at the museum,” Wolffe said.

The lessons began two years ago when, intrigued by Kazi’s translation work, Neyti asked to learn the ancient Ceaian language. Kazi agreed with a casual smile. But Wolffe had seen her hidden delight. Her excitement. He was well-studied in her subtle tells, after all. 

“I’m meeting them later,” Wolffe added. Cody arched a brow, and he shrugged with a chuckle. “I don’t know where we’re going. They want it to be a surprise.”

The gray of dawn cast the orchard in foggy darkness, dulling the pale orange of the trees’ fronds. Wolffe reached for a leaf larger than his hand and rubbed it between his fingers; the fuzzy trichomes tickled his palm. It brought a half-smile to his face.

They continued forward, turning at a fork in the path where, frowning, Cody nudged a pink bush with his boot.

“Neyti and Steiner like to play here,” Wolffe explained. He smiled. “I couldn’t say no. And they’re good for the bees.”

His vod shook his head fondly. “And Fox?”

Wolffe ducked beneath a branch. “You could ask him.”

“I could.” But he wouldn’t. 

Cody returned to Coruscant the week they completed renovation on the lighthouse. The decision had gutted Neyti as much as it angered Fox. Fox had expected them to remain together. To settle down and remove themselves from the threat of the Empire. To live out the rest of their lives in relative peace. But Cody disagreed with Fox’s sentiments. They argued; they parted on bad terms.

Every few months, Cody visited. He spent most of his time painting with Neyti, helping Wolffe with the garden, hiking with Nova. During those brief visits, Fox disappeared to the lighthouse. He avoided meals. Avoided any interaction with Cody. For Fox, Cody’s decision to leave Ceaia—to leave his vode—was a betrayal. 

A year and a half dredged by before Fox begrudgingly apologized. Cody accepted the apology with characteristic understanding. Wolffe knew the fight had weighed on Cody; just like he knew Fox would never understand Cody’s decision. 

But Wolffe understood Cody’s decision. Cody threw himself into work to deal with his guilt, and working with Rex and the clone network provided an escape. 

Wolffe also knew that Cody couldn’t remain on Ceaia. Not after Daria’s death. He hardly blamed his vod. The nightmares still haunted him on occasion. Nightmares where Daria and Neyti deboarded the transport at the Naboo spaceport without Kazi. Each time he awoke sweaty and panting, reaching for Kazi. 

Touching her, feeling her heartbeat in her wrist, sliding his finger along the tattoo of his initials—W.E.—on the inner skin of her fourth finger—it freed him from the nightmare’s lingering grasp. 

He didn’t blame Cody. Not one fucking bit. 

“Fox helps with the garden and orchard. But he doesn’t like the bees,” Wolffe said. Cody smirked in amusement. “He’s been spending a lot of time carving the fence.”

Nearby, a detailed dragon prowled the top of the dark-wooded fence protecting the orchard. Cody admired the carving. “And the annals?”

Last year, the annals evolved from Fox’s personal project to a museum-financed publication. It was Nova’s idea: an admitted desire to publicly preserve the stories of the vode he’d lost. 

“They deserve to be remembered,” Nova had told Wolffe and Fox late one night while he paced the carpeted basement. “And not just by me. But by the people they protected, too.”

Kazi had recently started her job at the museum (as a translator of the dying Ceaian language, she was scribing some of the oldest scrolls on loan from the Library of Xand), and reached out to the museum’s director. 

A few private meetings led to an agreement: Fox would organize his interviews into a chronological timeline, and the museum would publish the stories into three annals. They would be the first historical record of the War. The only record from the soldiers who fought in it. 

“They’re coming along,” Wolffe said. New interviews continued to appear every few months thanks to Cody’s efforts to connect various men with Fox. “The first two years are almost complete.”

Cody gave a pleased nod. 

The path veered to the right, toward the house. Low-hanging leaves tickled their hair and brushed their shoulders. They passed through the gate, wandering deeper into the forest, the tree cover thickening. The smell of burning wood drifted on the breeze; they followed its scent.

“I have another interview,” Cody said. At his smug tone, Wolffe snorted. “From Rex.” 

Wolffe blinked his surprise. “He agreed?” 

Cody smirked. “I convinced him.”

“You’re next,” he said. Cody rolled his eyes, and he shoved his vod in the shoulder. “Stop being a prick.”

“You haven’t done it,” Cody retorted.

“Did it last week.” He winked at his vod’s appalled look but soon sobered, shrugging. “It was time.”

“Fuck.” Cody scrubbed a hand across his jaw. Weariness lined his eyes and forehead, and he let out a deep sigh. “I’ll…think about it.”

Nearing the front of the house, the low voices of Fox and Nova discernible over the crackle of the fire, Cody motioned for Wolffe to halt. He angled his head toward Nova. “How’s he doing?”

“Nova’s a grown man, Cod’ika,” Wolffe said gently. “He’s making his own life. And he’s doing a damn good job at it.”

“I know,” Cody murmured. “I thought that…” He cleared his throat and straightened. “I’m glad he’s doing well.”

Wolffe was surprised when Nova decided to stick around after Cody left. Throughout the War, and after, he’d remained loyal to Cody. The type of loyalty only the best commanding officers earned from their subordinates. Wolffe had once earned a similar loyalty from his men. Before Order 66. Before he bailed on the Empire. Before he fled his own men trying to gun him down for betraying orders.

But Wolffe quickly realized the reason behind Nova’s decision: Nova was ready to move on from the past. And that meant parting ways with Cody. 

Within a few weeks of Cody’s departure, Nova applied for a researcher’s job at the local med center. There, he began researching a medicinal alternative to bacta. A solution to the Empire’s control and restriction over the healing aid. (Kazi gave him Daria’s old research books for inspiration or potential leads.)

The work kept Nova busy most days but he seemed to enjoy it. Neyti had even shown an interest in his work. Some afternoons, after school, he took her to the med center and let her help with his experiments. 

“You know,” Wolffe said, clapping a hand to Cody’s back, “there’s a place for you here. Whenever you want it.”

“The Rebellion needs me—”

“You need the Rebellion.” Wolffe levelled a hard look at Cody. “But it won’t clear your conscience.”

Cody squared his shoulders. “Yeah. I know.”

Wolffe offered him a grim smile and then made his way toward the sputtering fire. The embers glowed in the darkness of the evergreen and sequoia forest; the flames kept the early morning shadows at bay.

For the next two hours, Wolffe and his vode downed glasses of whiskey, swapped stories they all knew, and played rounds of sabaac. Nova won; Wolffe was convinced he’d cheated. 

As the forest lightened, the whiskey warming his blood, Wolffe tugged a sweater over his head, nodded to the others, and then started the trek to the docks. He was unsurprised when Fox followed.

The grassy cliff path spat them out at the shore. The low tide revealed bubbling sand pockets, a burrowing crab, and the booted footprints of a woman and child who’d passed through earlier. 

“Three years,” Fox said, surveying the faint sunrise with a pensive expression. “A lot has changed.”

“It’s what you wanted,” Wolffe remarked.

“Yeah.” Slowly, his vod rolled the sleeves of his maroon sweater. “Never thought I’d end up on an ocean planet again.”

He chuckled. “It’s better than Kamino.”

“Anywhere is better than there,” Fox said. The vitriol underscoring his comment wasn’t lost on Wolffe; he knew Fox’s feelings well enough. Adjusting the cuff of his right sleeve, Fox cleared his throat. “Thanks.”

Wolffe gave a wordless grunt of confusion. 

“For getting me off Coruscant.” Fox motioned to their surroundings. “This is a good place to retire.”

He snorted. “Only took you four years.”

“Fuck off.” Fox halted, running a hand through his hair, observing Wolffe with hesitant solemnity. He sighed. “I’m…grateful to be here.”

Wolffe nodded slowly. “Me too.”

He took a moment to breathe in the fresh air, to watch the sun cresting the oceanic horizon, to grasp Fox’s shoulder and give him a firm shake. Fox threw him a grin. One of those knowing grins he used when they were boys and was about to challenge Wolffe to a particularly ambitious dare. Wolffe hadn’t seen Fox grin like that in a long time. He’d missed it.

“Give my love to the women,” Fox said, shoving his hands into his trousers’ pockets. He backed away a step. “And don’t drown. I’d grow bored without you.”

Wolffe rolled his eyes and turned away. 

A jog along the shore brought him to the docks. Scents of freshly baked bread, citrus fruits, and spiced soups wafted from the colorful buildings. Younglings sprinted the walkways. Sailors shouted orders as they prepared their ships. 

Regardless of the earliness of the day, Outlook Harbor bustled with life. Wolffe nodded to the woman at the bakery (she sold jars of his honey), shook his head at a small boy begging for a cup of shaved ice (he could relate to the father’s fond exasperation), and lifted a hand of acknowledgement to the elderly florist (she liked Kazi and Neyti). With a sharp turn, he strode down a familiar dock— 

“Daddy!”

He broke into a wide grin.

Legs dangling over the side of the sailboat, Neyti waved, her smile toothy. Beside her, Fluffy thumped his tail in greeting. The moment Wolffe boarded the boat the anooba knocked his head against his legs. He gave the canine a scratch behind his ears. 

Over the years, Fluffy had matured into a calm yet protective force. A good soldier. Wolffe would know; he’d served with plenty of them. 

“Hey, kid.” Wolffe kissed the top of Neyti’s head. Her hair was tied back in her classic double braids, the style he’d perfected with hours of practice on Kazi. “You ready?”

“Yup. Mum let me raise the sails.” Neyti nodded at the main mast. “We were waiting on you.”

While Neyti finished a glass of lemon juice, Wolffe inspected their work. Unnecessary thanks to Kazi’s expertise but he didn’t want to feel excluded from the prep. “Where is your mom—”

“It’s about time.” Kazi strolled from the cabin space beneath the deck, a bouquet in her hands, her hazel eyes beaming with mirth. “Happy life day.”

Wolffe grinned. He couldn’t help himself. The morning sun seemed as eager about Kazi as he felt. It cast her in a pinkish hue that made her skin glow. She kissed his cheek; his skin burned beneath the touch. 

With an easy smile, Wolffe accepted the bouquet. Gray and long-petaled, the flowers complimented the wolf on his sweater and the socks he could see peeking above Kazi’s boots. The socks he’d given her long ago—the gray a claim to his pack.

Under the pretense of smelling the flowers, Wolffe scrutinized Kazi. He liked her like this: a carefree, dimpled smile; hands casually tucked in the back pockets of her trousers; an adventurous twinkle in her eyes. Seeing her like this…fuck,it inspired different wants within him. 

He wanted to hold her close and smell her lavender soap. He wanted his head in her lap while her fingers played with his hair. He wanted to sit on their porch and listen to her talk about her translation work. He wanted to taste her, pleasure her until she was sated and pliant. He wanted her naked beneath this soft sunlight so he could admire every toned muscle and delicate plane of her body—

“Are you going to stare at Mum all day or can we go?” Neyti jumped to the deck, piercing him with an exasperated frown. Wolffe rubbed the back of his neck. “Your surprise won’t be waiting all day.”

“Demanding, much?” Kazi flicked their daughter’s forehead. Neyti responded with a sheepish grin. Chuckling, Kazi shared a private, knowing smile with him—that damned smile he’d beg on his knees for a glimpse of—and then started for the docking line. “Come on. Neyti’s right—we want to get there in time.”

Navigated by her skilled captain, the sailboat chugged through the harbor’s dark blue waves, passing through the breakwater where two dragons sat on guard: the twins, Bellu and Xap. Most harbors, Kazi once told him, were protected by the twins.

For the lateness of the summer, the ocean was well-tempered, sincere in its embrace of salty wind and bobbing waves. While Wolffe stood at the helm with Kazi wondering where they were going, Neyti and Fluffy leaned against the bow’s railing, searching for sea creatures.

Soon, their billowing sails brought them to their destination: the clear waters of the islet. 

Wolffe chuckled his appreciation. Both his wife and daughter knew the islet was one of his favorite places to visit: a lush forest with foxlike creatures that often attempted to nick his broken wristchrono; a clearing with a bubbling stream that could ease the worst tension from him; and the turtles—docile creatures he liked to swim with. 

Anchor dropped and wetsuits assorted, the islet’s shallows welcomed them. They swam among iridescent corals. Seaweed swayed at a lethargic pace, pearlescent seashells blinking like stars among a sandy sky. 

After a lunch of cubed melons, peppered cucumbers, vegetable cheese sandwiches, and a dessert of Wolffe’s favorite cherry pie, they returned to the waters. 

Awakened by the sun’s rays, the turtles emerged from their caves. The youngest was Neyti’s size; the largest neared Wolffe’s height. Dark brown geometric shapes decorated the turtles’ domed shells and long flippers. Their delicate heads poked curiously at the humans. 

Wolffe took photos of Kazi and Neyti swimming among the bale. He had a large collection of photos at home: some decorated the wall in his and Kazi’s bedroom; others adorned the main level’s mantelpiece and bookshelves. 

The photos were proof. Proof that he’d survived. Proof that he’d got to live out his dreams. 

The holorecorder swapped hands. Kazi snapped photos of him and Neyti; Neyti, with artistic flair, captured a few of him and Kazi. Both broke into giggles when Kazi snapped a photo of a turtle biting his foot. He grinned along with them, even if his toes ached. 

Eventually, the white, billowy clouds of afternoon gave way to golden-dappled clouds of evening. Pale white hummingbirds whizzed among the islet’s shores and the sailboat. Curled near the hull, Fluffy watched the tiny birds with intrigue.  

While Kazi sat alone on the shore, studying Daria’s old necklace and the photo within its locket, Wolffe joined Neyti on the sailboat’s railing. Beneath their hanging feet, the turtles lazed. Neyti peeled a citrus-star. An even split and she offered half to Wolffe. He accepted with a small smile.

“Good day?” Wolffe asked.

Neyti grinned. “The best.”

“Any new painting ideas?”

“Lots. Steiner and I are going to the lighthouse to paint tomorrow.” She plucked a citrus-star piece into her mouth and then scrutinized him. “You have a request.”

“Clever girl,” Wolffe said. Her smug smile earned a low chuckle from him. 

Reaching into a pocket of his tossed-aside trousers, Wolffe retrieved his wallet and a small photo tucked within. A photo of him, Kazi, and Neyti in front of the lighthouse last month. 

He remembered the moment clearly. The night’s constellations were winking into existence. Gentle waves were lapping at the shore, the temperature cool. He was staring at Kazi, holding Neyti’s hand, when he was struck with the reminder that this was his life. That he was married and had a daughter. That his vode were alive. That he was alive. It was hard to believe, sometimes.

“I’d like a painting of this,” Wolffe said thickly, showing Neyti the photo. “Think you can do that?”

Neyti narrowed her eyes as she appraised the image. “Is it for Mum’s life day?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll do it,” she promised. 

He nodded his thanks and carefully tucked the photo back into his wallet. 

After a minute of silence, interrupted only by the rocking waves and the whizzing hummingbirds, Neyti peered at him. “Did you like your life day?” 

Wolffe considered his daughter for a long moment. 

Over the years, she’d grown taller. Most of her adult teeth had come in, though one gap remained. (He hoped it took a long time to fill.) While her quiet nature continued to shape her curious yet shrewd outlook, her sharp wit and stubborn attitude persisted, especially during sparring lessons with Fox. 

She still enjoyed her princess stories. She still enjoyed learning new dragon lore. He and Kazi still read to her in bed. 

But Neyti was maturing. And he was keen to appreciate each moment of her childhood he had left.

Slipping a piece of citrus-star into his mouth, Wolffe knocked his elbow against Neyti’s. “I couldn’t have asked for a better one.”

As night swarmed and sharks began their hunt, they returned to Outlook Harbor. 

A blanket sprawled, bellies warm with vegetable curry, buttered flatbread, and chocolate-covered honeycomb, they settled among the sailboat’s deck. Wolffe accepted a pair of earplugs from Kazi. Neyti nestled herself between them. 

An effervescent display of fireworks lit the sky. Streams of silver and gold complimented the swooping figures of dragons. Regal purples and bottomless blues emphasized the dragons’ idiosyncratic prowess. 

The world silent, Wolffe split his time between watching the show and observing Kazi and Neyti’s reactions. 

Neyti watched the fireworks with a dimpled grin of awe. Kazi spent an equal amount of time watching the displays and studying him. At one of her subtle glances, he tapped the side of his head and winked. He felt an innate satisfaction at her small smile and relaxing posture. 

Later that night, locked in their bedroom, entangled on their bed, Wolffe held Kazi closer to his chest. They were both shaking, their breaths ragged. He could still feel her cunt fluttering around his oversensitive cock. He stifled a moan against her shoulder. 

Heat thrummed beneath his skin. His mind worked slowly, dazed by his orgasm. Instinctively, he brushed a hand down the smooth skin of Kazi’s spine. Her soft exhale tickled the hair curling around his ear, her thighs flexing around his waist.

“Good?” he asked. 

She gave a tired yet content nod and ran a finger along the silver bar piercing his nipple. He shivered at the sensation. His cock twitched inside of her. The corners of her lips quirked in amusement. He offered her a lazy grin. She repeated the touch once more, kissed his cheek, and then maneuvered herself from his lap to the mattress.

Wolffe quickly followed, kneeling between her legs, staring down at her. She was…fuck, she was more beautiful than those rare, sunny days on Kamino. 

The moonlight caressed her body in warm shades of amber: the flush to her cheeks, the blackness to her eyelashes, the curves of her breasts, the muscles of her arms. Her unbound hair crowned her head like faded autumnal leaves. Her eyes were dark, bliss-filled. 

He surveyed her, his mind blank of coherent thought. All he knew was that he wanted to stay like this for a long time.

“You’re staring,” Kazi murmured.

“Mm-hmm.” Settling himself atop her, he twirled a strand of hair around his finger and then placed a kiss on the underside of her jaw. “Say it.”

She skimmed a palm along his biceps; he trembled at the touch. “I love you,” she whispered.

A kiss to the sensitive spot behind her ear followed. At her breathy sigh, a warm feeling fluttered behind his ribcage. He murmured, “Again.”

“I love you.”

He swallowed and then lowered his face to hers. His mouth brushed the white scar near the corner of her eye. “Again.”

A finger tipped his face back; her eyes danced with affection. “I love you.”

Wolffe smiled at the promise in her words. Their lips grazed. He curled his fingers into her loose hair; he breathed against her skin, “I love you.”

As he deepened the kiss, Kazi brought him closer, her hands trailing across his back. He shuddered beneath her wandering fingers. His cock throbbed. A quiet moan broke their kiss. He pursued her neck. Warm skin welcomed his mouth. 

He took his time, tracing the lines of her collarbone with his tongue, sucking long and slow on the underswell of her breasts, skimming his fingers across her ribcage, her throat, her face. 

One hand played with his hair; the other massaged his shoulders, the back of his neck. Deep kneading eased the stiffness from his body. A teasing caress of his earlobe made him groan. 

Their kisses slowed to lingering; their touches turned drowsy. 

Wolffe pressed his forehead against Kazi’s, squeezed her hip, and then lowered himself onto his back. Extending an arm behind her head, he glanced at the nightstand. Atop his trusted notebook sat his present: a silver, sleek wristchrono.

He’d been eyeing it for months. Hell, he should’ve known that Kazi would notice his subtle glances at the shop window each time they visited the harbor. 

Wolffe trailed a finger across the tiny, cursive inscription on the ‘chrono’s band: So you can always find your way home. He blinked away the burning sensation behind his eyes.

“Thirty, Wolffe,” Kazi murmured, tracing the initials inked into his fourth finger: K.E. “How does it feel?”

“It doesn’t feel real,” Wolffe admitted. He skimmed his thumb along her shoulder. “I…never thought I could have this. And now…” 

Years training with his vode, years believing he’d die on the battlefield, years fighting alongside his men, yet he outlived them all… 

He’d never understand why he’d survived. He’d never understand why he’d been allowed to experience this—finding Kazi, raising Neyti, starting his own farm. But he’d learned long ago that he couldn’t control fate. And those men who’d died—they’d want him to live the life they didn’t get to. He owed them. And he’d make the most of what he was given. 

“I’m glad this is real,” he said quietly. “Real fucking glad.”

A thoughtful hum sounded from Kazi, and she peered at him: hesitant yet curious. “Do you feel alive?”

Wolffe thought back to years ago, to stars reflected among a stilled lake’s surface, to lightning bugs flickering among an overgrown jungle, to hazel eyes rounded with vulnerability and soft lips he wanted to touch, to a quiet conversation he’d never forgotten.

“Yeah. I do.” He let out a chuckle, surprised by the swiftness of his answer. Surprised by the truth behind it. He searched Kazi’s gaze. “Do you?”

A slow smile lit her face, wide and dimpled and so full of life. “I do.”

For a long time, Wolffe basked in her smile and the heat of her body curled against his, and when she kissed the side of his throat, he turned his gaze to the skylights. The Dancing Dragons twinkled, their central star bright in the night sky. Kazi nuzzled her nose against his jaw; he mapped the tattoo on her spine.

“Tell me the story, Kazi,” he murmured. “Start from the beginning.”

He felt her smile against his neck. As she started to speak, he closed his eyes, sinking into the mattress, relaxing into the lavender scent of her hair and the sleepy lilt of her voice: 

“Every night a female dragon soared amongst the stars.”

Masterlist | Chapter 31

A/N: For a deeper look into this story and its characters, check out the Behind the Scenes.

Artwork of Kazi, Wolffe, and Neyti by the phenomenal @pinkiemme!

[honeycomb-butch]

"[T]his mouse was mummified by insects. Mice often enter honey bee hives in winter in search of a warm home. Honey bees would not tolerate such an invasion during the summer, but during the winter, they are clustered around the brood in the center of the hive and the corners of the hive interior go undefended, especially during colder weather. Sometimes the invading mice die a natural death, or perhaps the bees attack and kill them on a warm day in early spring (Should have left earlier!). In either case, the honey bees now have a dilemma because a mouse corpse is too big for them to carry out of the hive as they do with the bodies of dead bees and other debris. Their solution is to cover the cadaver with propolis, which effectively seals the dead mouse off from the rest of the hive. Notice they did remove the hair first.

Honey bees make propolis by gathering sap and other exudates from trees and mixing it with beeswax and saliva. The result is a glue-like substance that they use to seal small cracks, glue things in place, and help maintain sanitary conditions. Propolis is sticky and pliable at normal summer temperatures but becomes hard and brittle when cold. Propolis has antifungal and antibacterial properties." (source)

[flowerishness]

Dahlia x cultorum (garden dahlia)

Winter bees

Today is Halloween and dahlias are one of the few flowers still going strong. This is good news for this honey bee because her hive is getting ready for winter. Unlike most bees, honey bees don't hibernate and remain active throughout. They cluster up into a ball surrounding the queen and survive by eating small amounts of honey. Then they shiver their flight muscles to generate heat and keep warm. These specialized 'winter bees' are born in the fall and getting the colony through the cold winter months is the only task on their job description.

[briarpatch-kids]

I've got a whole hive of bees in my bonnet about some of the comments on that post but I also know anyone talking about "malignant narcissists" isn't going to listen when I tell them to go fuck themself so it's not worth the trouble. But wouldn't it feel good to tell them to go fuck themself??

I don't even have any of the demonized disorders people act like are shitty asshole disease, I'm just tired of people talking about shit like "narcissistic abuse" and how everyone with a cluster b disorder is The Worst.

[kydrogendragon]

Bees? Bees!

🐝

Lmao, literally everyone has asked for bees xD Alrighty, tagging @pluckyyoungdonna and @introvertbibliophile since y'all asked for bees as well.

This was a Febuwhump prompt I hadn't finished, but was very excited for. The premise being that there was an old tradition for beekeepers that if the beekeeper (or family of the beekeeper) passed away, one was supposed to knock on the hive and let them know, otherwise the bees wouldn't be able to process their grief and the hive would fail.

So this takes place post The Wake in a version where Dream and Hob grew very close (whether in a relationship or not, up to you).

Hob walks out into the back garden of his home in the countryside. The flowers were in bloom, the small patch of bush beans and tomatoes and peppers and a scattering of other vegetables they had planted together were flourishing. Their leaves were strong and hardy. Their fruit, plump and shiny. Hob still remembers Dream kneeling beside him, his fingers trailing through the dirt on the cloudy spring day. He’d just started this new life a year back and had wanted to return to his roots some. Plus, food prices kept going up and it was satisfying to eat what you’ve grown with hard work. He had planned to make a dinner for the two of them with the harvest of their garden. The sun is shining bright and the air is sticky warm with humidity. It’s far too nice of a day for this. There should be rain, he thinks. Dream would have found it thematic. He dips into the storage shed at the edge of the gate and pulls the veiled hat over his head. He wouldn’t need the whole outfit, not for what he’s doing. He’s got jeans and a long sleeved shirt on as is. It’ll do. Besides, it’s not like he can die, right? The beehive sits inside a ring of wildflowers. Dream had planted those. Said they came from the dreams of the bees themselves. Hob had laughed, said they were going to have the most spoiled bees this side of the Thames. The flowers have wilted now—the only sign of decay amongst the thriving summer life. Hob tries not to cry. Clusters of honeybees dance around the wooden box, waggling with their pollen coated legs, talking in dance to their sisters. Dream had spent hours out here when they’d first gotten the hive set-up. He says their patterns and movements reminded him of the movements of early star’s dreams and the nightmares of some alien race Hob’s never heard of. (In fact, that was the first time he’d learned that aliens are also real.) He kneels beside the hand painted wood, trailing his fingers across the sun-worn black paint of two ravens—one much more realistic than the other. Dream had drawn the first one. A small raven with a white breast. Jessamy, Hob had learned. He’d heard her name, heard her story. Now he knew what she looked like. Matthew, who’d been enjoying the bird seed left out for the natives, cawed that he deserved a spot on the box as well, so Hob had done his best to make a decent rendition of him beside Jessamy. The smaller, fine brushstrokes of Dream’s hand over his own painting—refining it, bringing life and shape to the black blob—still remain.

The WIP Game list

[floralfumofridays]

Floral Fumo Friday of the Week: Blue Wood Aster(Symphyotrichum cordifolium)

Yuuka is very sleepy and slow at moving so she is always late! But Friday is still happening somewhere in the world so this is the one proper Floral Fumo Friday for now. I've actually noticed that some bees are accidentally photobombed in the photos I've taken too.

This week's flora is Blue Wood Aster aka Heartleaf Aster (Symphyotrichum cordifolium)! As you can guess by its name or maybe how similar it looks, it's a member of the same flower as sunflowers and the goldenrods of a previous post, the Aster family, starflower family or Asteraceae. This flower is very fragrant, and while the flower disc only appears in shades of blue to white, flower clusters in the middle of the disc go from yellow to purple over time.

The word "aster" means star, flowers and other flora are like stars of the earth. Like the sun seen in the day and some other stars seen in the night sky are one star, some flowers are simply just one flower. Other stars appear to be one star but are actually a cluster of many different stars. Flowers in the Aster family are similar where a flower looks like simply one single flower but it is actually a cluster of tinier flowers at the center, and the petals outside of the cluster is a disc. This makes them extremely popular to pollinators who are preparing for winter, because more flowers means more nectars to collect from.

Reimu and Marisa are here to investigate strange flowers appearing around the shrine. They find none other than the terrible, fearsome youkai, Yuuka Kazami, around said flowers. Reimu becomes suspicious because she has caused an incident before, then Yuuka tells Reimu that she doesn't want to fight today. She explains to Reimu and Marisa that she wants to change the nature of herself as a youkai, because she has seen humans, animals, and flowers today change their own nature from what they were when she was still young. She wants to grow and change from being a youkai that lives in darkness to a youkai of flowers and nature. Reimu and Marisa note that she is not using her parasol and see some marks on her face, but Yuuka quickly brushes it off.

Marisa questions where the flowers are from, Yuuka says that she has never seen them before, either, but they look like the flowers of the garden that she has moved into. She tells both Reimu and Marisa, "You may not understand yet, or maybe nobody has told you yet, but the world we're in right now is a closed space from the rest of the world separated by a barrier, and things that are lost and forgotten end up here. Of course, the Hakurei Shrine, the abandoned village filled with cats, my old home, and these flowers are on that same barrier."

She explains that after she caused an incident before and lost, the residents of Mugenkan thought of Yuuka as being too polite to humans by letting Reimu and Marisa run amok in the mansion and going too easy on them. They thought that she became too old to do her job as Headmistress even though she claims that being 4987 years old is not that old. She tells Reimu that she has found a new home in Gensokyo, and has merged the Fantasy World and Mugenkan with a world created by two twin demons, then gave the mansion and its region of the now-merged world up to them.

She looks at a bee and says that the Queen Bees have it more crueler. The Queen is not actually the ruler, if the queen grows older and doesn't do her job, the Hive kills her and replaces her with a new one. To Yuuka, she had it much easier and just gave her Mugenkan away. Reimu and Marisa both become startled by her words, but she tells them that bees have much more mortal lives than humans. Their drive is to make sure their hive lives on to create new bees, so flowers of a plant, some also just as mortal as a bee, can be pollinated. There are many tiny beasts like honeybees, and almost every flower needs them to grow even more flowers; she tells Reimu and Marisa that they would never experience the joy of sweet fruits like apples or cherries if it wasn't for those tiny beasts and their hard work.

Reimu and Marisa afterwards say that she talks too much, and both proceed to fight her and kick her out of the area by the Hakurei Shrine.

By the way, the honeybee (Apis mellifera) in the second pic is a photobomb. I didn't even notice her there when I originally took it, so I made a story about it.

[jacklynchh]

Wildflowers & Honey • Self-Para

Spring, 2018.

"What's that?"

"It's a beehive!"

There was a moment of silence in which Jack set down his coffee, trying to decide whether or not to question it. Grace offered no further explanation and just continued hauling boxes of unfamiliar equipment through the door, humming happily to herself.

"When you said you were going to pick up a few things, I thought you meant groceries," he said finally, deciding to get ahead of… whatever this was.

She grinned at him.

"I got groceries too."

It was a thing she did. He should be used to it by now, really. Grace would hear about some new hobby or craft and for the next few months it became Her Thing. Sometimes they stuck, knitting and pottery were particular favourites, but most of the time after a while she'd get bored and move on to the next. It was the reason they had a closet full of basket weaving materials that hadn't been touched in two years.

"Okay," Jack said, and then, "Should I ask?"

"Well, Heather from pilates was telling me about this amazing local group that runs all these courses on self-sufficience. You know like growing your own produce, animal care, foraging, and-"

"Beekeeping," he finished with a sigh.

"Exactly! And I figured we already grow our own stuff, and since we don't have enough space for a chicken coop, then this is the next best thing." She straightened up and dusted her hands off. "I thought it could be a cool thing to do together, you know? And think how great it would be to be able to make our own honey. You could sell it at the market with everything else."

She joined him by the kitchen island, swiping his unguarded mug to take a sip. There was a twinkle of joy in her eyes and she looked so pleased with herself that any half formed protests he had died on Jack's lips.

"Do we have to get a license or something?"

"There's a register and a small fee, but it's only like ten dollars."

"And the course?"

"We can afford it."

Another heavy sigh and he gave in. "Fine, but if I get stung you're never gonna hear the end of it."

"I think I can live with that," she said, smiling as she leaned into his side.

Present day.

There was a swarm hanging from his mailbox. Not the most helpful thing in the world, considering Jack had come out to see if anything had been delivered yet. A gentle buzzing noise filled the air and a few lone rangers were flying haphazardly above the main cluster, looking for places to land. The bees seemed relatively calm, so he just stood there for a moment debating what to do.

The sight of them had sparked a memory he hadn't thought about in years; Grace coming home and declaring them soon-to-be beekeepers. She'd been so excited about it at the time. He remembered wondering whether it was something they'd end up sticking to or give up on two classes in—they'd never had a chance to find out. Her diagnosis had come in only a couple of weeks after she'd signed them up.

He still had the hive though. It was sitting in the potting shed, hidden behind a pile of old tools and a wheelbarrow, alongside a whole collection of other seemingly vital beekeeper's equipment that he didn't know all that much about using.

It would be stupid to dig it out now, wouldn't it? Pointless. He should just call someone to come and get them, be done with it. That would be the sensible thing to do.

But they'd chosen to stop here. And his garden was full of pollinator plants. And he could see Grace's fucking smile-

Fifteen minutes later, he had his phone lodged between his shoulder and his ear as he tugged the hive out from its hiding box. It was still in relatively good condition, all things considered.

"Yeah, yeah, I've got frames too. Everything, I think. How soon can you be here?"

Only in Blue Harbor could he have found a qualified beekeeper not fifteen minutes away totally willing to help a complete stranger catch an absconded swarm. He hung up, proceeding to pull out one of the old suits stored away with everything else, feeling ridiculous as he climbed into it. It was insane, wasn't it? To see your dead wife in a swarm of fucking bees and, what, decide to keep them because of that?

And yet here he was. Oh well. He'd done it now. Might as well just accept his fate.

[h50europe]

Possible season 8 scenario?

Beekeepers to the rescue after 5 million bees fall off truck 🐝🏃

Police warned via Social media to avoid the area.

The bees and their hives were scattered over a 400-meter (1,300-foot) radius. On nearby cars and mail posts some of the younger bees were clustering, which he said they do when they are seeking safety.

"There were probably a thousand bees on the front of my truck," he said.

Other bees, ones that were angrier and older, were buzzing around.

The driver of the truck was stung more than 100 times, Mr Barber said, as he wasn't wearing a full beekeeper suit. Paramedics were nearby and he was not seriously injured.

"There were a lot of flying bees that made even beekeepers in full suits nervous," he said.

He said he was grateful for the many local beekeepers that worked to keep the insects and the public safe, and added that the incident is a good reminder to always securely strap your bees.

"Lesson learned. Everybody survived and a few bees were hurt," he said. "Hopefully the hives will survive the winter."

Source

[downtofragglerock]

Alright, only one group left to look at (kinda), its time for the arthropod extravaganza

Out of every group of animal, it is by far arthropods with the most rahi representation

We got four main subgroups to look at so lets go over them

The myriapods (centipedes and millipedes) only have one maybe rep in the form of the terrain crawler, which for some reason was canonized as a rahi despite all promo and story material clearly not having that be the intention

As arachnids go, the mu is chockfull of spiders and scorpions, many of them very large. For spiders you have the the chute lurker, the dagger spider, the electric spider, the Fenrakk, the Fikou, the Fikou-Nui, the sea spider, the silver chute spider, and all seven breeds of Visorak. Then for scorpions you have the catapult scorpion, the Kofo-Jaga, the Nui-Jaga, the Zivon, and the scorpion rahi from the cancelled pc game. Interestingly, a uniting factor across all arachnid rahi is that they are immensely bigger than the largest of their real life counterparts, to the point where event he smallest ones are as big as the largest real life ones.

Onto insects, there are also quite a lot, several of which aren't given much elaboration on what specific type of insect they are: like the cliff bug, the colony drone (which technically isn't outright stated to be an insect but from context clues and also the name, kind of has to be), the electric bug, the fireflyer, the lava crawler, and the night creeper (which again, while also not outright stated to be one, is probably an insect due to context clues)

As for specifics, the acid fly is well, a fly. The frost beetle and Hoto are both stated to be beetles, the Kirikori Nui is a grasshopper/locust, the metallic hornet is a hornet, the metru mantis is a mantis, context clues imply the Niazesk is a gadfly of some kind, similarly context clues imply the sand snipe is a gnat, the Nui Kopen is a wasp, I think the tunnel stalker might be an earwig, and the Nui Rama is a bit of a cluster fuck, as it's been referred to as a fly or a mosquito by different media, and they also have the eusociality and hive-building like bees or wasps, so I think they're another one for the specevo pile

Lastly, the crustaceans, all of which are crabs: The Hahnah, the Keras, the Mana-ko, the Manas, the spider crab, the crab rahi from the cancelled pc game, and the ever-lovable Usaal

Despite there being so many arthropod rahi, a number of groups are left out, other types of crustaceans, arachnids that aren't spiders or scorpions, and numerous rather recognizable insect groups like ants, butterflies, moths, roaches, dragonflies, a lot of different beetles, termites, stick insects, and cicadas

And again, a interesting unifying factor among all of them, barring some insects, is how overall larger they are than their real-life counterparts

And with that where done, we've gone over basically every animal group

But there's still some cleaning up to do