#giant crane fly

[onenicebugperday]

was wondering if you could help identify this bug my dad found. we’re from ontario, canada. after some googling i think it’s a crane fly? but i am very much not confident about that

Big lad! Looks like a giant crane fly, Tipula abdominalis :)

[ur-local-neighborhood-scene-kid]

BEAST FOUND!!!!!! My brother found a giant crane fly in the kitchen window! I didn’t know they got this big!!

[jonnysinsectcatalogue]

Giant Crane Fly - Tipula metacomet

In the world of Crane Flies, it is expected that many of them would be sizable, at least when considering the span or their legs. For today's specimen however, she has a trifecta of a long body, long wings and a long reach with her legs! This individual is so large (overall), that she would comfortably fit in my palm for observation. She's so grand in fact, that when I found her, I nearly convinced myself that this insect was a Hangingfly (a type of Scorpionfly). While Crane Flies and Hangingflies can appear similar due to their size and spindly legs, Crane Flies possess only one pair of wings (with balancing halteres in place of a second pair) and their legs are also designed to detach when necessary. Hangingfly legs appear more sturdy and seem better designed to wrap around an object (to hang off of it) rather than perch or grasp like a Fly would, just like this individual is doing along the screen door and its frame. Another possible conclusion is a scary one, as Crane Flies resemble large Mosquitoes! And if a Mosquito would be this large, imagine how much blood she would need for her eggs! As for proper identification of this palm-sized, spindly Crane Fly, the first thing to consider is the size. The next point to examine is the thorax and confirm the presence of black markings. Confirmed, they're there! Following that, the identification markers for this branch of Crane Flies become more complicated (especially the patterned wings)

A closer look of the insect is needed, otherwise this insect could be mistaken for a relative specie, such as another Giant Crane Fly like T. abdominals. Still a giant, but the wrong giant, and there are only 2 in North America. I nearly labelled this find as the latter specie, but comparing the legs of both Flies held the key! The latter specie has pale markings just before and after the tibia joint on each of its six legs! T. metacomet meanwhile has uniformly colored dark legs, and also has a solid color on the first segment of its abdomen. A glimpse of it can be seen in the small gap above where the folded wings rest. While the brownish color may seem somewhat drab, a bright yellow decorates the middle section of the abdomen. You can see a little of that color through the wings, but you'll be able to see the color in full when this insect is in flight, trying to dash towards the light on the other side of the screen door. You may have some luck drawing them to lights during their nocturnal flights. They can have multiple generations over a year, so the timeframe to find them is wide, but remember not to intimidated by their size when they swoop in. Be startled maybe, but never intimidated. Finally, as you observe, take note of the abdomen's tip. If you see a spiked end - like today's find - you have a female specimen. Males have a rear appendage akin to a tri-clasper, and they also tend to be smaller than the females.

Pictures were taken on September 16, 2024 with a Google Pixel 4. Seeing this large, beautifully-winged specimen so close to autumn has gotten me nostalgic suddenly for Spring Fishflies, another insect (of an entirely different insect order) that seems intimidating at first, but is actually harmless.

[bugsonthefarm]

Giant Crane Fly (Tipula abdominalis)

Sept 1 2022

Was so stumped by the ID for this one - I’ve never seen a crane fly resting with its wings tucked back like this! I promised a little girl visiting that I would ID it however, so I enlisted some help. Much thanks to @onenicebugperday for figuring this one out!

Native

[jenfoundabug]

*dramatic music*

Tipula sp. (crane fly), Northern California

[m43d4y]

I got a giant western crane fly (Holorusia hespera) chillin in my room with me, it showed up last night through my bedroom door and was hanging off one of my shelfs but when I went to bed I guess it got hit on my fan. Now it's wing is broken and part of his abdomen is torn. I named him Inigo Montoya,,, he is my roommate now (I later discovered from closer inspection that Inigo is indeed a girl because he has an ovipositor but I don't have the heart to take his name from him)

Here's some pictures (you don't have to if you're scared of bugs)

Inigo :)

[mousathe14]

I don’t know what possessed me to learn Butter-Fly by Kouji Wada on piano when I haven’t even learned the bridge of They’ll Need a Crane by They Might Be Giants, but hey, you know what they say:

When the going gets tough, do something tougher.

Wait-

[immutable-mitigation]

“He allowed himself to be swayed by his conviction that human beings are not born once and for all on the day their mothers give birth to them, but that life obliges them over and over again to give birth to themselves.”

― Gabriel García Márquez, Love in the Time of Cholera

[sunsburns]

four or five moments (ii.)

pairing: wade wilson/deadpool x fem!assassin!reader

summary: you're literally just trying to do your job, and it's going great so far, you've killed trask, all you have left is to stop that truck from leaving new york. few problems: deadpool can't stay dead, you're having a moral dilemma and why is that car getting closer? oh shit-!

—or: deadpool literally hits you with a car

word count: 4k+

warnings: fem reader, wade being nasty, flirting, sex jokes, canon violence, there isn't too much plot, blood, strange conversations about morality, wade being annoying, he also breaks the fourth wall a few times, i did not pre-read this pls bare with spelling mistakes

notes: i was peer pressured to write this. it literally strays off from the og plot so bad you get whiplash!!

part one

All you really need is four or five moments.

Four or five moments to prove that you're better than them, that you wouldn't stoop as low, to prove that an eye for an eye will only leave two people blind. No blood will bring mercy. No. But it might get you some peace of mind knowing that they can't hurt you anymore, knowing that there's one less asshole on the earth that's trying to hurt you and the people you care about. It is heartless, you're well aware, but you are not trained to have much of a heart, much less to care.

You remind yourself of that fact as lights blur into neon streaks and speeding vehicles race by. Your heart pounds in your chest, adrenaline sharpening your senses, and the stab wound on your leg becomes a distant throb.

You leap onto a motorcycle conveniently left unattended by a fleeing warehouse worker, hot-wiring it with practiced ease. The engine roars to life, and you peel out onto the road, weaving through traffic. The bike vibrates beneath you, a sleek, powerful beast responding to your every command.

Behind you, Deadpool is a persistent shadow. You catch glimpses of his red suit and mask as he commandeers a car, recklessly swerving through lanes to catch up to you. His determination is infuriating, but you can't afford to be distracted. You grit your teeth, focusing on the chase.

Your earpiece crackles to life, and a familiar voice comes through. "I've got eyes on your tracker," your handler says. "They're heading towards the docks. Be careful; we don't know if it's a set-up."

"Understood," you reply, voice steady despite the chaos.

As you near the docks, the industrial landscape looms ahead, a labyrinth of shipping containers and cranes casting long shadows in the dim light. The truck is just ahead, its taillights glowing like beacons.

You accelerate closer, and with one hand, you grab an energy gun, in a quick movement, you shoot at the truck doors, immediately regaining your grip on the handle afterwards. The doors fly open, revealing giant metal scraps and wooden crates.

You nearly curse, swerving out of the way when a pipe tumbles out from the back of the truck, crashing onto the road. The clang of metal on asphalt echoes in your ears. You slow down by the truck's blind spot, knowing you'd have to stop it, especially now that the cargo was confirmed to be in it.

You stay ready with your gun, pulling it from the holster on your thigh. You wait a beat, then another, and as the truck starts to pick up speed, you make your move and roll up to the driver's window, shooting through the glass. The bullet flies through the driver's head, causing him to slump forward, pressing on the horn. The blaring sound drowns out your second shot, which takes down the man in the passenger seat before he can shoot you.

The truck starts to slow, veering erratically before it crashes into a building with a deafening crunch of metal and shattering glass. The impact takes down a few light posts and parked cars, sending debris flying. Broken electrical wires dance and crackle around the wreck, their sparks reflected in the spray of a burst fire hydrant.

"Great job," your handler's voice crackles through your comms. "Dispose of the truck. No witnesses—"

The connection cuts off as you are violently hit from the side by a black car. The force of the impact sends you flying off your bike, tumbling across the rough asphalt. Your suit and helmet take most of the fall, tearing and cracking under the friction. Your visor shatters, the protective plastic lining breaking at the base.

You feel the sting and burn of broken skin on your arms and legs, grime and dirt mixing with the blood seeping from your cuts. Your vision is blurred, and a high-pitched ringing fills your ears. Every breath you take is shallow and painful, your ribs protesting with each inhale. Biting the inside of your cheek, you push yourself to pull off your broken helmet, tossing it aside. You blink hard, trying to focus your vision and spot a figure approaching.

Through the haze of pain and confusion, you recognize the distinctive red and black suit. Deadpool. He strides towards you with casual confidence, katana in hand, his eyes hidden behind the mask but undoubtedly filled with a mix of amusement and determination. The streetlights cast eerie shadows on his suit, highlighting the dried blood and grime.

"Please, don't be mad, honeybuns." Deadpool's irritating voice is the first thing you can hear when the ringing stops. He's standing before you, gloved hands out for you to take.

You don't move, heaving, "What the fuck, Wade?"

"Oh, are we on a first-name basis now? I think I like it." Wade Wilson hums, and when you still don't take his hands, he kneels before you. The smell of sweat and gunpowder wafts off him, mingling with the metallic scent of blood. "I know this all seems a little confusing—"

"You hit me with a fucking car, you dick!" you belt out, eyes wide with rage. The pain and exhaustion make your voice hoarse, every word a struggle.

"Well, yes. But it's only fair—"

"Fuck you."

"Listen to me." He says a little desperately, and you're glaring at him through your tears. Wade doesn't let it get to him, instead, he calls out your name, barely above a whisper as he looks at you. "You are getting innocent people killed." He tells you. "Look around. This might not be a cul-de-sac, but there are civilians, and they're hurt. We need to leave. You need to call it."

You glance over his shoulder, tired eyes scanning the area. He was right. Dock workers are running around, shouting and helping people out of the old building the truck had crashed into. It's late at night, but not late enough for the place to be deserted; people are still at work, still trying to get by.

You wince as you watch a pregnant woman being led out of a crashed car by her husband, a gash on her head. The smell of gasoline and burning rubber fills the air, mixing with the acrid scent of smoke from the crashed truck.

"Killing shitty people is one thing," Deadpool tells you, and you hate the way his voice is almost earnest. His tone is different, more serious, a stark contrast to his usual unserious demeanour. "But I'm familiar with your no-witnesses rule. This would just be mass murder if I let you keep going. Not exactly my piece of cake. Just..."

He stops, letting his head hang for a moment as if he were too repulsed to say it. You can see his shoulders slump slightly, a rare show of genuine emotion. "Oh god, I can't believe I'm about to say this," he grumbles, "Four or five moments. That's all it takes. Just stop and think. It's all it takes to be a hero."

You grit your teeth, hating that Wade Wilson is your voice of reason. The biggest asshole in New York, and here he is lecturing you on morality.

Hairs are falling out of your braid and sticking to your forehead, yet you don't care. Sweat mixes with blood, creating a sticky mess on your skin. You can only glare at him. "You're the last fucking person who should be telling me how to be a hero."

Wade sighs, loud and obnoxious, his mask wrinkling around his eyes as he scrunches up his face. "I'm sorry I hit you with a car. You kinda deserved it after killing Trask. He was my last chance at becoming pretty again. Now I have to stalk another crazy scientist." He taps his chin thoughtfully, "I always figured I'd end up chasing a mad scientist again, but not under these circumstances."

It's when you can no longer hold yourself up with your arms that Wade takes in the gravity of your injuries. He winces, watching you crumble to the ground before him. "Oh, wow, that's a lot of blood," he notes, his voice suddenly devoid of humour. The sight of your blood pooling on the asphalt seems to pull him back to reality. "Should I take you to a hospital? How many fingers am I holding up?"

He doesn't give you a chance to answer.

"Three? No. Two? Yikes. It's worse than I thought." Wade stands, and the worry in his voice is poorly masked by his usual sarcasm. "Here we go. Up, up!" When he moves to pick you up, you start turning away, your body protesting every movement.

"Wade, wait—" you rasp, trying to stop him from touching you. Your voice is weak, barely above a whisper.

But it's too late. When he reaches for you, your body phases, a faint white glow surrounding you as his hands and arms fall through your body as if you're a ghost. He recoils, jumping back while a squeamish sound escapes his lips. He stares at you, then his hands, then back at you on the ground as you try to sit up again, confusion and amazement written all over his masked face.

"Oh. My. Motherfucking. Fuckballs." Wade gasped, eyes wide behind his mask. "Did my hand just go through you or is all that cocaine finally kicking in?"

You ignore him, holding onto your side as it throbs with pain. Every movement sends sharp, agonizing waves through your body. "Fuck."

"No way, you're a fucking mutant?" His tone is a mix of awe and excitement, like a kid discovering a new toy.

It's not like you kept it a secret. You used your abilities whenever you needed to, and sure, it was useful at times, especially in your line of work when you needed to get through locked doors and hidden rooms or just for the element of surprise. But it's draining. Leaves you winded after only a matter of seconds. You've always had a hard time controlling it when you're slightly delusional though. You must've hit your head really hard. Maybe that's why you haven't shot Deadpool, yet.

"Shut up, Wade."

"Hey, no need to be ashamed of it." He reassures you while trying to pick you up again. This time, he is more cautious, his movements slower and more deliberate. When he succeeds, you can tell he's grinning like a child underneath the mask.

He carries you back to the same fuckass car he hit you with, holding you with one arm under your knees, the other supporting your back. There's a faint skip to his step as if you're not on the verge of losing consciousness. While kicking open the back door, Wade continues his chatter, and you really wish he'd killed you on impact.

"Being a mutant is great! Plus, it's not the early two thousands anymore, or whatever timeline Stewart was in. Man, they sure did hate mutants in that trilogy."

He sets you down in the back seat gently, his hands surprisingly delicate. "You know, I always knew you were different. You hit me harder than regular people. I just figured you really hated me."

"I do." you mutter.

"Oh, my little sweet buns, I'm sure you do." To your annoyance, he pokes your nose playfully. "But you can't hate me too much right now, I'm literally your knight in shining armor. See, I can be nice, especially to my fellow mercs. You'd bleed to death if I left you there."

"Only because you hit me with a fucking car," you snap, the pain and frustration boiling over.

"Good to know you're still harboring great anger towards that. Means you're still conscious. Keep being mean to me, baby, that's how I'll know you're okay." He pauses before shutting the door, looking at you lying on the backseat, bleeding and all the glory that comes from it. "And it also turns me on a little bit. God, I can't believe your suit is torn and not one bit of extra cleavage is exposed. What will it take for a guy to get some rated R nudity over here?"

And with that, he slams the door shut, the car shaking with the force of it. The sound makes the ringing return to your ears, and you bite back the urge to curse him. He takes a seat in the driver's seat, starting the engine and rushing out of the scene before first responders arrive. The car roars to life, and as he speeds away, you feel your consciousness slipping, the pain and exhaustion overwhelming you.

The two of you sit in silence for the most part, only the sounds of the engine running and Wade humming the tune of a song you think is from The Greatest Showman soundtrack. You force yourself to stay awake. Mostly because you don't trust him, but it's also because you fear that if you let your eyes close you won't wake up again. Yeah, it's mostly because you don't trust Wade Wilson.

"Where are you taking me?" you finally ask, and you hate the way your voice sounds weak, barely above a whisper.

"Just a little safe house I know." He tells you, glancing back at you for a quick moment. "Very homey, trust me."

"What about the shipment?" you murmur, your mind struggling to stay focused.

"What?"

"The truck," you repeat, fighting to keep your eyes open.

"Oh, don't worry. That's no longer our problem." He says, "We're about to enter a whole new setting. That truck is forgotten plot."

Wade takes a sharp turn, and you wince as your body shifts uncomfortably in the back seat. The pain is getting worse, each bump in the road sending jolts of agony through your body. You grit your teeth, trying to stay conscious, but it's a losing battle.

After what feels like an eternity, the car finally comes to a stop. Wade gets out and you hear his footsteps crunching on gravel as he walks around to your door. He opens it carefully this time, his usual wiseass demeanour replaced by a rare show of genuine concern. He scoops you up gently, and you're too weak to protest.

The last thing you remember, before everything goes black, is the sight of a grand mansion looming ahead, its imposing silhouette framed by the moonlight. The large iron gates creak open as Wade carries you through them, the gravel path crunching under his boots. The mansion, with its towering spires and Gothic architecture, looks like something out of a fairy tale, a stark contrast to the violence and chaos you just escaped from.

When you wake up, the first thing you notice is the softness of the bed beneath you. The second thing you notice is the smell of lavender and the faint hum of medical equipment. You try to sit up, but a sharp pain in your side makes you gasp.

"Whoa, easy there," a deep, accented voice says from beside you. You turn your head slowly, the motion making your vision swim. A towering, metal-skinned mutant sits by your bed, his imposing figure softened by a look of genuine concern. "You need to rest. You are badly injured."

Your throat feels like sandpaper as you rasp, "Where am I?"

"The X-Mansion," he replies in a soothing tone, the accent heavy but comforting. "Wade brought you here. You’re safe now. I am Colossus."

You try to take in your surroundings, your head feeling heavy as you look around. The room is vast and elegant, with high ceilings that seem to reach the heavens. The walls are adorned with rich tapestries and framed paintings, depicting serene landscapes and grand historical scenes.

Large windows let in the soft, golden glow of morning light, casting gentle shadows that dance across the floor. It’s a far cry from the dingy, rundown places you’re used to, especially that old apartment with its creaky floors and peeling wallpaper.

Your eyes finally land on Wade, who is slouched in a chair in the corner. He’s flipping through a Playboy magazine with exaggerated interest, still in his dirty suit from the night before.

When he sees you stir, he grins and waves a hand in your direction. "Morning, sunshine," he says cheerfully, his voice carrying an unnerving mix of sincerity and teasing. "You gave us quite a scare. But, I've got to say, that hospital gown is doing wonders for your figure. I love the blue. Great contrast to that black you're always wearing."

You roll your eyes, too exhausted to respond properly. The gown feels scratchy against your skin, and every movement sends sharp pangs of pain through your body.

Colossus, noticing your discomfort, shifts slightly. "How are you feeling?" he asks, his voice deep and steady.

"Like I got hit by a truck," you mutter, sending a glare in Wade's direction.

Colossus chuckles, the sound deep and resonant, like rolling thunder. "Do not worry about him. We will take care of you."

Despite the throbbing pain and overwhelming fatigue, a wave of relief washes over you. For the first time in a long while, you're surrounded by people who genuinely want to help. You close your eyes, letting yourself sink into the softness of the bed. "Thank you," you whisper, the words feeling strangely comforting. For once, you don’t feel the need to be constantly on guard.

Wade's grin widens as he leans back in his chair, stretching his legs out and adjusting his mask. "Anytime, honeybuns. Anytime."

As you drift in and out of consciousness, you feel the cool, soothing touch of a wet cloth on your forehead. The gentle pressure is a welcome contrast to the persistent throbbing pain.

The sound of soft murmurs and quiet footsteps fills the room, creating a cocoon of calm around you. At some point, you notice Colossus's massive hands, surprisingly gentle, as he carefully tends to your wounds, applying bandages with precision.

Eventually, a teenager with short hair and a no-nonsense expression enters the room. You learn her name is Negasonic Teenage Warhead. She carries a phone in one hand, handing Colossus a stack of clean bandages with the other. The faint scent of antiseptic and medicinal herbs fills the air, mixing with the crispness of the freshly laundered bed linens.

Hours pass, or maybe it's days—it's difficult to gauge. When you next wake, the room is dimly lit, the golden light replaced by the softer hues of early evening. The pain has dulled to a manageable throb, and the heaviness in your limbs is slightly alleviated. Wade is still there, his previous outfit swapped for sweatpants and a dark green sweater, though he keeps his red and black mask on. He lounges in the chair beside your bed, now engrossed in an iPad, giggling softly to himself.

"Oh, man. Instagram reels are crazy," he snorts, shaking his head as he scrolls through the screen.

He looks up and hums when he sees you're awake again. "You're tougher than you look," he comments, turning off the iPad with a flick of his wrist. "Most people would have keeled over by now."

"You wish."

"Oh, trust me, I do." Wade nods vigorously, his mask bobbing with the motion. "I tried injecting poison into your IV, but your body rejected it."

"Don't worry. My handler will kill me for you."

Wade groans, dramatically rolling his eyes as he gets up from the chair. "You’re still worried about that? I already told you, the truck and all that shit is past plot. We’re in the sequel now, babe. There are new rules. Who knows, maybe this is your redemption arc where you join the X-Men. Though, I will miss your assassin era. You were so sexy in that suit."

You make a face, "Fuck off."

Just then, the door opens with a soft creak, and Colossus enters with a tray in hand. He’s followed closely by Negasonic, who carries a stack of fresh bandages. Colossus places the tray on a small table beside your bed with practiced ease. The tray is filled with a bowl of steaming soup and a couple of slices of crusty bread, the aroma wafting up and making your stomach rumble.

"How are you feeling?" Colossus asks, his voice calm and reassuring as he sets the tray down.

"Better," you admit, managing a small smile. "Thanks to you guys."

Negasonic shrugs nonchalantly, a small smile tugging at her lips despite her usual scowl. "Don’t mention it. Just doing our job."

Wade groans, clearly troubled by the kindness. "Oh great, now you’re all buddy-buddy. What am I, chopped liver?"

Colossus chuckles, the sound of a comforting rumble. "You must eat something. It will help you regain your strength."

You nod gratefully, and with Colossus’s help, you manage to sit up enough to sip the warm, comforting soup. The broth is rich and flavorful, and the bread is soft and fresh. As you eat, you can’t help but feel a strange sense of belonging. Despite the pain and the chaos, you’re surrounded by people who care, and for now, that’s enough.

Wade, not one to be left out, scoots his chair closer, setting it right next to your bed. He stretches out, propping his elbows on his knees as he leans in. "So, what do you think of the X-Mansion? Pretty swanky, right? Lots of rooms, big kitchen, danger room for training... and other things."

Negasonic scoffs, her eyes narrowing. "Gross."

You finish your meal, feeling a bit stronger. As Colossus helps you settle back into the bed, you glance at Wade. "Why did you bring me here?"

Wade’s expression shifts, becoming uncharacteristically serious. He looks at you with sincerity. "Because you’re one of us. And because... well, everyone deserves a second chance."

You blink, surprised by the depth of his words. Before you can respond, he’s back to his usual self, grinning and turning on his iPad. "Plus, it’s not every day I get to play hero. I gotta milk it for all it’s worth. And no, Colossus, I will not join your boy band, thank you very much."

The metal man grunts, waving a hand dismissively before walking out, Negasonic following right behind him. Wade stays seated next to you, his lips curled into a wide, amused grin that seems to stretch just a bit too far was he watches you.

"You're never gonna take that off?" you ask him.

Wade's laughter is a low, rumbling sound that feels almost too bright for the quiet room. "Oh, no fucking way," he says, his voice dripping with mock seriousness. "I wasn’t kidding when I said I’m ugly under this. Trust me. You’d be repulsed. Like, horror movie-level repulsed."

You give him a look, your eyebrow arched in disbelief. "I doubt it."

Wade leans in closer, the grin on his face widening. He taps his chin thoughtfully with a gloved finger, the gesture oddly contemplative. "Maybe next time I’ll take it off for you," he says, a taunting tone in his voice as he raises his brows. "Maybe that and a little more."

"There's a next time?"

"I mean, as the famous words of Natasha Bedingfield say: the rest is still underwritten."

"God, you’re fucking ridiculous," you mutter, the words coming out with a mix of exasperation and reluctant amusement. "I can’t wait to get out of here and never see you again."

Wade's shoulders slump, the white eyes of his mask narrow at you, "What, that's it? No steamy sex? No heavy petting? Is this how it ends? Not even a kiss?"

"Fuck no. Get out."

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© sunsburns.tumblr 2024. all rights reserved. unauthorized copying, translation, or claiming of my writing or any works as your own is strictly prohibited.

[bogleech]

Anyway while we're on the subject of public misconception towards living things (which is completely understandable because have you SEEN living things? There's like dozens of them!) here's a fresh rundown of some common mistakes about bugs!

Arachnids aren't just spiders! They're also scorpions, mites, ticks and some real weirdos out there

Insects with wings are always finished growing! Wings are the last new thing they ever develop! There can never be a "baby bee" that's just a smaller bee flying around.

That said, not all insects have larvae! Many older insect groups do look like little versions of adults....but the wings rule still applies.

Insects do have brains! Lobes and everything!

Only the Hymenoptera (bees, ants and wasps) have stingers like that.

Not all bees and wasps live in colonies with queens

The only non-hymenoptera with queens are termites, which is convergent evolution, because termites are a type of cockroach!

There are still other insects with colonial lifestyles to various degrees which can include special reproductive castes, just not the whole "queen" setup.

Even ants still deviate from that; there are multi-queen ant species, some species where the whole colony is just females who clone themselves and other outliers

There is no "hive mind;" social insects coordinate no differently from schools of fish, flocks of birds, or for that matter crowds of humans! They're just following the same signals together and communicating to each other!

Not all mosquito species carry disease, and not all of them bite people

Mosquitoes ARE ecologically very important and nobody in science ever actually said otherwise

The bite of a black widow is so rarely deadly that the United States doesn't bother stocking antivenin despite hundreds of reported bites per year. It just feels really really bad and they give you painkillers.

Recluse venom does damage skin, but only in the tiny area surrounding the bite. More serious cases are due to this dead skin inviting bacterial infection, and in fact our hospitals don't carry recluse antivenin either; they just prescribe powerful antibiotics, which has been fully effective at treating confirmed bites.

Bed bugs are real actual specific insects

"Cooties" basically are, too; it's old slang for lice

Crane flies aren't "mosquito hawks;" they actually don't eat at all!

Hobo spiders aren't really found to have a dangerous bite, leaving only widows and recluses as North America's "medically significant" spiders

Domestic honeybees actually kill far more people than hornets, including everywhere the giant "murder" hornet naturally occurs.

Wasps are only "less efficient" pollinators in that less pollen sticks to them per wasp. They are still absolutely critical pollinators and many flowers are pollinated by wasps exclusively.

Flies are also as important or more important to pollination than bees.

For "per insect" pollination efficiency it's now believed that moths also beat bees

Honeybees are non-native to most of the world and not great for the local ecosystem, they're just essential to us and our food industry

Getting a botfly is unpleasant and can become painful, but they aren't actually dangerous and they don't eat your flesh; they essentially push the flesh out of the way to create a chamber and they feed on fluids your immune system keeps making in response to the intrusion. They also keep this chamber free of bacterial infection because that would harm them too!

Botflies also exist in most parts of the world, but only one species specializes partially in humans (and primates in general, but can make do with a few other hosts)

"Kissing bugs" are a group of a couple unusual species of assassin bug. Only the kissing bugs evolved to feed on blood; other assassin bugs just eat other insects.

[revelboo]

Everything is Alright

Starscream x reader

Even though it had been half heartedly misting rain for the last several miles, you kept the windows on your old sedan down anyway so the wind could sink icy fingers into your hair and tear at your ponytail. You needed the chill to numb the anger and stress just there under the surface.

But even with the speedometer pushing 65 on the wooded country road, there was no outrunning yourself. Or stopping yourself from dwelling on the fallout with your latest boyfriend. This time it’d been because you never made enough time for him. Like you both didn’t work crappy full time jobs.

Like it wasn’t as much his fault as yours. Hand going white knuckled on the wheel, you crank the rock and roll even higher, the thump of the bass rolling through your bones.

****

Scrap.

Turbines screaming, Starscream could feel the wound in his side pulling. Burning white hot even as he steadily lost altitude and any hope of just flying away from his pursuers. No, that wing was hanging on by a prayer to Primus and pure, unadulterated spite as he dropped even lower. His wingspan was too wide for the narrow road he found himself flying over as he dipped down below the trees and felt the tips of his wings cracking branches to rain down into the road.

Not that the debris was doing a blasted thing to deter the two Autobots in pursuit. No, Bumblebee and Jazz were right there, still firing on him as they swerved around the bigger branches.

He rolled slightly around a curve, wingtip scraping the asphalt in a spray of paint-scraping, painful sparks. They weren’t giving up the chase. Wouldn’t now that he was bleeding energon and running like a startled turbo fox. He wasn’t exactly outgunned, but he had little doubt that they’d already called in for backup.

Calling in his own? Having to beg for help even from his own trine? Weak. And weakness didn’t survive long among the Decepticon ranks. Another tight corner and then there was a car ahead on the road. For a moment, his spark constricted in almost panic, but this wasn’t another Autobot come to join the hunt. Nothing but a human.

Too low. The belly of his alt mode scraped over the roof of the car and it swerved wildly straight into the trees. That jolting contact was enough to throw him off balance, though. Transforming, his peds hit the asphalt in a graceless run as he tried to not face plant and gouge a groove in the road surface or trip into the trees.

Before he could turn, Jazz and Bumblebee had both transformed to keep firing on him. Snarling, he bared his denta at them and returned fire.

***

Your world blurred into a confusing smear of impossibility as you lifted your head and felt your heartbeat throbbing at your temple. Slumping back against your seat, you scrabbled at the seatbelt and as you register the taste of copper in your mouth for a moment you can’t remember how to undo the buckle.

There’d been a jet screaming overhead. The jarring screech of metal striking metal. Wrecking. Impossible.

The seatbelt came loose and you fumbled with the door handle until it gives and shove your way free. It’s still drizzling rain, the dampness settling over you as you stagger away to stare at your car wedged among the trees. Thunder rolls, the fine hair at your nape lifting with the noise. Except, it’s not thunder. That staccato rhythm thuds through you as you stumble out of the ditch and up onto the road.

Oh, yeah. There are giant, alien robots in the road. With guns. Head pounding, you crane your neck to just stare without comprehension. You have a concussion.

Or you hadn’t really made it out of the car. You’d brained yourself and this was the hallucination your addled mind had come up with as a consolation prize. Figures, you don’t even really like sci-fi. It was admittedly, one heck of a delusion. Staggering, you stare up at the fiery red eyes of the bigger of the imaginary head trauma robots.

***

Starscream didn’t know what was more surprising, that the Autobots had stopped trying to kill him or that the human had lived and wandered right between them. The squishy, little thing was now gaping up at him instead of doing what they usually did when confronted with Decepticons. Namely, scream, run, and die in that order.

Optics narrowing in contemplation, he lunged. The human was softer than he expected, that soft flesh giving horribly against his servos as he caught it and lifted it out in front of him. Aside from a wheezing sound halfway between a gasp and a moan, it just hung there, unresisting. Maybe broken.

All that mattered, though was that Jazz and Bumblebee had froze as he used the pathetic little thing as a surprisingly effective shield. Because the Autobots weren’t to harm organics. Especially humans. Baring his denta in a feral smile, he backed away.

“Let the human go, Starscream,” Bumblebee said, weapon still raised in threat.

An empty threat. A laugh escaped him, smile turning nasty. “No, I don’t think so.”

He kept moving back, spark thrumming. They were going to let him go just because he’d nabbed a human with no survival instincts whatsoever. Who still was eerily quiet as they sluggishly leaked red fluid from a gash on their head. Turning on his heel, he resisted the urge to chuck the human and instead pulled it into his chassis as he transformed, pain rippling through him. There was a terrifying moment of very real fear that his wing wouldn’t hold. That he and his hostage would crash back down, but his turbines roared and he bolted.

And they still didn’t fire upon him. Because of the human leaking whatever humans were full of on his interior. If not for the very real possibilities of having a docile pet that could stall the Autobot idiots from attacking, he’d have jettisoned it and been done with it.

Instead, he brought it back with him. He kept it trapped in his cockpit as he returned to base, painfully aware of the leaking thing’s breathing accelerating. Of small hands scrabbling at his interior in panic to make his metal flesh crawl all over. It still wasn’t screaming at least as he ducked into his own quarters and locked the door after. The last thing he needed was for someone to hear the thing screeching and come investigate.

Opening his cockpit as he grabbed an empty energon cube off his desk and dumped the human unceremoniously inside. It landed flat on its face before scrambling to the far side, wide eyes darting around at everything but him.

Now it was scared. So there was some survival instinct after all.

He set the cube back on his desk, reaching back to try and assess the damage before he headed out to find the medic.

***

You slid slowly down the smooth glass wall to land on your butt as your legs just gave up. The apparently not hallucinatory, brain trauma induced giant robot had stuck you in a big, square aquarium and even though the top was open, you couldn’t get enough air. Or stop shaking as panic sank its teeth into your throat.

Reaching up, you gingerly touch your temple. There’s blood there, but sticky and not actively bleeding you think. And even if you’re not imagining all this, you probably do have a concussion. You can’t motivate your shaking, noodle legs to stand, so you crane your neck to study your prison. The walls are much higher than you are tall and featureless. No way to get a good grip to climb out, even as you very briefly entertain and dismiss the idea of parkouring up the corner of the box to freedom, because that wasn’t happening.

You’re not sure how long your big, evil robot is gone. Hours? You’re almost drowsing in your corner even as you shiver uncontrollably in the cold room. You bang your head on the wall when the door opens and your kidnapper returns. Those glowing red eyes slide your way before dismissing you. Shifting to drag your legs against yourself, you watch it move to an oversized chair and slump.

“Almost brought down by two weak Autobots,” it mutters, dragging a hand down its face in a disturbingly human gesture. For an alien robot murder machine, its face is uncannily human, too. “Nearly ripped my wing off.”

Was it talking to you? Unsure, you dart your tongue out to wet your lips. Somehow you hadn’t yet won yourself a Darwin Award even though you’d blundered into the middle of a fire fight between huge, angry robots while gawping like a hick tourist. “How dare they,” you say, voice a barely-there, raspy whisper.

It hears you, though. That big head turns to stare at you and you wilt as its wings flit up a little higher and the silence stretches.

“Right?” He demands suddenly, growling voice full of irritation. It sounded like a he, anyway. Though since it was whatever the hell it was, who knew. “I could have destroyed them then and there with one servo.”

It’s almost funny as the alien death machine actually puffs out his chest a bit when you nod in agreement, teeth chattering. And then you run with it, playing devil’s advocate. “They wouldn’t stand a chance.”

“Of course not,” he sneers, rising to tip his head at you with almost predatory interest. Drifting away to a wall, he retrieves a huge blanket and drops it unceremoniously on you. The material is soft as silk, but some chemical smell clings faintly to it. You still cocoon yourself in it, face poking out to watch your evil robot return to his chair and his sprawl.

[onenicebugperday]

@captainsnakepants submitted: Found on a screen door this morning (October 1st), located in [removed] (please remove location when you post), I think it's a female, and the mouthparts and long, paddle-like halteres strongly resemble those of a cranefly, but she(?) Is about twice the size of a cranefly. This is a species I've never seen before in my life and I'm very curious as to what she is.

"Crane fly but larger" makes sense since she is a giant crane fly, Tipula abdominalis. And yes, definitely a female. We can see her pointy lil ovipositor there. Males have a more blunt abdomen.

[the-kr8tor]

Carnival date with Hobie! Going on the arcades (that are definitely rigged) enjoying cotton candy together and the Ferraris wheel!

- 💗

Thank you for the lovely prompt, angel! ���

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader

Word count: 1.2k

Tags: No use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader (Hobie is mentioned taller though), cw food mentions, Fluff

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

You take a giant bite of your cotton candy, the sugar bursts into your mouth like fireworks. The bright neon lights make your eyes shine, all the beeps and boops from arcade machines are reminiscent of the time when you were younger. It's cold out, an evening breeze passes by, fluttering your lashes in the wind. It's freezing but Hobie's arm around your shoulders warms you through your bones.

“Don't eat it all, give me some.” His breath fans your cheeks, it tickles you a bit. “Oi, stop gettin’ distracted. Ahhh” he opens his mouth for you, waiting for you to feed him like a baby chick.

“Get those pinchers out of my face.” You giggle, quickly feeding a dollop of the sweet treat before he chomps down on your fingers. You've learned your lesson.

“Thanks.” He says through a mouthful. You wipe the corner of his lips clean of candy. He sticks his tongue out to the side with the intention to lick your finger.

“Nope, too slow!” you quickly move your hand away to his dismay.

“I will bite your hand off, you'll see.” Hobie says with a smirk.

“Uh huh, sure. If you can catch me”

“You better start running then”

Before you could sprint through the crowd, Hobie's arms are already around your middle, lifting you a few inches off the ground effortlessly. You giggle, trying to not get a lot of attention from the public.

You blame the candy for making Hobie more hyper than he already is.

“Give me your fuckin' hand” he cranes his neck down to try and catch your it, you cross your arms on your chest, tucking your hands inside.

“Nu uh!” Hobie squeezes you, continuing to walk like he's not carrying you. “So you're just gonna manhandle me the entire night?”

“No, I'll throw you in one of those duck ponds.” He laughs loudly as you wiggle your elbow right on his abdomen. You didn't know he's ticklish there, you are definitely gonna use that information in the future.

Your eyes light up, looking at the gigantic patchwork teddy bear hanging on to one of the arcade booths. “Look at that one!”

“D’you want that? I'll get that for you, yeah?”

“No, it's fine, it's probably rigged anyway.”

He nuzzles your neck, “I'll bet you a kiss that I can win that ugly bear”

“Deal.” You kick your legs out to try to walk on your own but he doesn't let go so you let him carry you the entire way to the booth, laying your entire weight on him.

He stops in front of the milk bottle tossing booth, an old man with large glasses mans the it, he picks up fallen balls, placing them neatly inside a small bucket.

“How much, bossman?” Hobie asks, his arms still carrying you.

“Five pounds per bucket. Looks like you've won a much better prize though” he chuckles.

“Yeah, ‘m lookin' for a replacement though” he points at the bear with his chin. His comment doesn't fly over you though, you huff, kneading his stomach with your elbow. Hobie yelps, letting you go. “See that, bossman? Need that bear more than ever.”

You make a mocking face, Hobie suddenly has an intense urge to pinch your nose. But he doesn't, maybe he'll do it once you two get home.

He hands the old man the bills in exchange for the bucket.

“You've got four tries to bring the three pyramids down. You do that and you get the bear.” The old man explains.

“That easy?” Hobie says smugly.

The man chuckles, the same smug smile on his lips. “That easy. Good luck.”

Hobie turns to you as he's weighing the baseball in his hand. “Kiss for good luck?”

“I thought that was for after winning my prize?” despite you declining, you lean to press a chaste kiss on his cheek. “Good luck and don't overdo it or you might give the man a heart attack.” You whisper close to his ear.

“And here I was preparing my arm to rocket this ball out of here” he chases your face, capturing your forehead in a quick but tender kiss.

You poke his side, smiling as he takes aim. His arm extended like he's a professional, his muscles tensing through his shirt. You'd be lying if you said you weren't ogling him. Before Hobie throws the ball, he winks at you all suave, waking the butterflies in your stomach.

Clang!

The first pyramid bottle falls loudly. Hobie looks at you with a mischievous smirk, wordlessly saying. ‘I've got this’

He takes another ball, preparing to launch it. As you predicted, he turns his head towards you again but you're prepared this time, winking at him sweetly before he could do it.

He almost misses the bottles.

You tamp down your laugh when he looks back at you with a ‘how dare you’ face. You look at him innocently, fluttering your lashes.

After all that though, one after the other the bottles fall easily, the old man shifts uncomfortably, scratching his head. He surrenders, handing Hobie the bear.

“Told you I'll win it for you” the bear gets squished in the middle as Hobie tries his best to embrace you with the fluffy wall in between.

“I knew you had it,” you lean up so he could claim his prize. “You have super strength, cheater.” you say against his lips, he could only get a fraction of a second of your lips before you pulled away. He blinks, shaking his head.

“Thought we had a deal?”

“Claim it in the ferris wheel?”

“You cheeky fucker”

—

After lining up for the ride and numerous bites of a shared funnel cake, you and Hobie hop on to the pod, the capsule shakes as he pushes in the bear to fit inside. The worker manning the ride sighs exasperatedly.

Hobie sits it across from you, scooching to make way for him, he sighs, all tired out from the labour.

The worker closes the door, the ferris wheel starts up, slowly moving your pod up.

“Your bear is on thin ice” He glares at the toy, the fluffy head tilting comedically. You laugh while Hobie casually snakes his arm around your shoulders, bringing you Impossibly closer to the already small space.

You don't mind it though, laying your head on his shoulder, reaching blindly for his hand, he half hugs you, bringing your knuckles to his lips.

“You good?” his voice muffled by your skin.

“Better than good. Happy” you inhale his cologne, relaxing your muscles. You swear you're melting on the spot. “You?”

“You already know the answer, lovie” he cranes his neck closer to you, ignoring the ache in his nape. Hobie then presses a handful of kisses on your temple, each one sweeter than the last. He holds off with his joke about pushing the bear off the ride.

The ferris wheel halts to a stop when your pod reaches the top, you cling tighter to Hobie. The view takes your breath away, the shining lights below look like stars, the skyline looms on your right, just seeing it makes you crave web swinging with Hobie. Maybe you'll ask him about it later.

The ride starts back up again with a sudden lunge, a mechanical whirring in the background. You yelp, Hobie grips your shoulder, circling his thumb over your skin comfortably.

“I've got you.” He reassures.

“I know you do” You squeeze him, moving his face downward by his chin, guiding him closer to your lips.

[the-s1lly-corner]

Adam x a male seraphim reader who's twice his size (like Sera but a tiny bit taller) romance headcanons.

(love your writing!) -🍄

Adam x male!giant!seraphim!reader

Glad to hear you like the writing!! Admittedly I was scared my hazbin writing would be a little BLUGH but YIPPEE people enjoy it!!

I enjoy the headcanon that adam is bisexual, though if hes aware that he is is.. debatable. If he is aware hes in denial. He likes women! Women, he tells you-

You.

You changed everything for him, or at least made him question himself. You'd been around for quite a long time but until now you and adam hadn't had the chance to get to know each other personally.

Que a few tasks you both have to do together, a couple of weeks of hashing everything out and.. boom you're together!

He thinks it's a little ridiculous that you're so huge, he has to crane his neck up to look at you. He has to fly if he wants to give you a kiss. He knows seraphim can change their appearance, could you like. Shrink? Please? A little frustrated that you cannot in fact shrink.... though his pout seems to disappear when you offer to carry him around.

He slings his entire body on top of yours when you cuddle, head on your chest and limbs splayed out. You're cool to the touch, but he kind of enjoys it! Sometimes you guys might be a little late to a meeting because he didnt want to get up out of bed..

Has made some vulgar jokes about the height difference. I will leave your mind to wander!

Will get partially offended if you call him an ankle biter

[cosmichorrorsarestillnicerthanme]

How bout a ZZZ? Ask Belle x cunning hares reader

Reader fights using half of a mech(whichever mech you feel is appropriate) they found in a hollow

I had a blast writing this, though I spent more time on the Mech than the interaction so if it feels a bit off compared to my usual, sorry!

Now! Your Wish Is My Command!

“Combat Rigs like this one were used-” you began to say as you adjusted the rotors of the cooling unit, getting a shock in the process from the left over processed ether, causing you to exclaim “agh! Mother-” before letting out a deep breath and starting over.

“Combat Rigs like this one were used early on to explore Hollow Zero back when it first formed. You’ve run into some of the tech descended from these in the Companion Hollows and its distant cousins in Belobog Construction. Though when these were first made; Ether Corruption wasn’t something very well known, neither was Ether Shielding, at least not on a large scale. Not to mention these things were slapped together in a couple of months with some Shoddy but aggressive A.I. Cores and a lot of the safety features in both of them weren’t exactly up to snuff, especially with the extremely volatile Ether Reactors that, when they got too hot, could melt the entire thing into a ball of molten slag with pilots still inside or A.I.’s programming breaking and hijacking the rig. So, over time as boots on the ground got more and more concerned about the Rig’s going rogue and we learned more and more about hollows, they were phased out. Replaced by heavy, non-piloted machinery with better made and adapted A.I., and small, highly trained groups of people guided by Bangboo.” You explained as you continued to run maintenance on your Rig.

“Then how’d you get your hands on one?” Belle asked, still craning her neck up to look at you.

“Found it in a Companion Hollow not too far into The Hollow Zero Exclusion Zone, from the looks of it, The A.I. Core broke and went on a rampage and flew out of Hollow Zero before the Reactor ran out of fuel and it shut down in mid air, causing it to crash. I had to rip off pretty much all of what remained of the plating and replace a lot of the underlying hardware due to Ether Corruption. The A.I. core was pretty much unscathed, and that’s been a headache and a half to try and work on. It's a stubborn piece of scrap.” you shouted down as you pulled out the damaged Ether Canister and looked it over, seeing if you were going to be able to salvage it.

“This massive thing can fly!?” Belle exclaimed, shocked.

“It could, without the A.I. Core I’m locked out of a ton of the subroutines, including the Flight Check.” you answered as you walked down the catwalk.

“Though considering the Payload this thing could carry, that may be a good thing. Going out in a giant ball of exploding fire sounds as cool to me as the next guy but I’d prefer not to have what was left of my body buried in a matchbox.” you stated as you walked past Belle, still examining the canister.

“What does that mean?” Belle asked, more than a bit concerned for her NOT CRUSH.

“Well, if I got this thing fully loaded with the max it could carry and still be able to go airborne and accounting for the Reactor… that would be around the equivalent of around a megaton of TNT exploding over the sky’s of New Eridu. More than enough to take a sizable chunk out of the city if it was on the ground.” you answered before placing the canister on the table, and pulling out a set of tools.

“That’s… terrifying.” Belle muttered, a chill running down her spine.

“Yup, that’s why I only use the heavy artillery this model was known for if absolutely necessary.” you stated as you continued to work on the canister.

“I know I’ll probably regret asking… but what does that mean?” Belle asked.

“This model was made as a form of highly mobile artillery piece, designed for the express purpose of cracking heavily armored targets with heavy ordnance from any spot on the field. Because of this, it could launch missiles, rockets, and other forms of munitions with little to no modification. It was the swiss army knife of high calibers, explosives, and magnetically accelerated weaponry.” you answered simply, putting your tools down and turning to face Belle.

“Now then Proxy time for me to ask a question, why the sudden interest?” you inquired as you looked Belle dead in the eyes.

“Can’t a girl like giant killer robots on her own time?” Belle clumsily retorted.

“Not you, one half of The Legendary Proxy Phaethon.” you stated clearly.

“Then could you at least ask a girl about her ulterior motives over a bowl of noodles?”

“Are you trying to ask me out?” you asked, eyes narrowing.

“Yes.” Belle declared, tossing all subtlety to the wind.

“Are you buying?” you asked, tempted.

“Half.” Belle answered with a shrug.

“Hmm. Let me get cleaned up and changed, give me a bit.” You said as you walked past Belle and towards the Cunning Hare’s main building where the Showers were.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

You closed the door behind you before walking forward, turning down the hall, and then leaning back on the wall before sliding onto the ground.

You were NOT prepared for this.

Quickly, you fished your phone out of your pocket and dialed the best person you knew for this kind of thing.

Nicole Demara.

The second you saw her name you were already calling her.

“C’mon, c’mon, pick up Nicole.” you muttered as the dial tone rang.

“Hey there! You’ve reached Nicole Demara, Leader of the Cunning Hares! If you have a job for us, say what it is at the beep! If you don’t, BUZZ OFF!!” Nicole’s pre-recorded voicemail shouted at you.

“NICOLE HELP! BELLE ASKED ME ON A DATE! WHAT DO I DO!?” you whisper yelled into your phone in a panic.

Oh god what were you going to do?

You couldn’t just blast your way out of this with rockets and explosives!

Not that you wanted to after all Belle was… Belle.

And you were a Grease Monkey who works with a dangerous robot that can blow a hole in the city.

How in the world were you going to survive this?

[jenfoundabug]

Female crane fly (family Tipulidae) laying eggs. I knew some species lay eggs in soil, but wasn’t expecting it to look this silly 😆

While most crane fly adults don’t feed (they’re not giant mosquitoes!), most larvae eat dead plant matter. Larvae are an important part of the soil ecosystem because they convert organic matter into nutrients that plants and other life forms can use. Crane flys are also an important food source at all stages of their life for everything from spiders to song birds.