#moth. i love you.

[heartnosekid]

african peach moth (egybolis vaillantina) | source

[eldritch-ace]

I too think he deserves a kwagatama

[lilybug-02]

Final Blow.

Bug Fact: The New Zealand Glowworm is a species of fungus gnat endemic to New Zealand's cave systems. The larval stage produces a blue-green bioluminescence.

First || Prev // Next

Masterpost

Some pictures of this amazingly unique creature and it's habitat.

[mothmanipulator]

knightsune miku am i right

[hellsitegenetics]

Behold! I, in my boredom and neurodivergence, have taken the organism archive (Faithfully updated by me) and converted it into a very messy genome!

6 pages of A, C, G and T! What could result when BLASTing this?

String identified: (all that)

Closest match: Napeogenes sylphis genome assembly, chromosome: 12 Common name: Clearwing Butterfly

(image source)

[mothsintherain]

"ORTHUR" and "mahtin" give off the same vibes to me and it's funny. like if your name is jo(h)n you're contractually obligated to say your (boy)friend's name a little silly

[babacontainsmultitudes]

RIP Will Campos the only person who was murdered this episode.

[little-pup-pip]

uum, could I have a moth/moon/night time themed moodboard with a deco paci? No gender preference, any is fine :] ty in advance !!

Absolutely!!

[mr-malumm]

Happy Val Day theyre in love with each other i like when the tall scary one throws the tv around 😍🥰😍🥰😍✨📺🦋✨

[whirlybirbs]

simon walking a patrol in his walls w a bucket of mortar, moth following behind him whistling tapping the wall with a rlly small chisel

3. handler's manual — ghost / reader

desc: a new year's eve honeypot brings a realization. pairing: lt. simon "ghost" riley / f!reader ; callsign: moth listen to: asmr by only fire (for seoul bar beats) a/n: i like making this traumatized man come to terms with his repressed sexual attraction to his co-worker in questionable mission scenarios. he really said "i am gonna kill this man because he touched you wrong" ⇽ prev / next ⇾

Your boots are crossed at the ankle and perched on the debrief table. You lean back, flip through the mission report, and then level Laswell with a look that — if given proper ammunition — could kill.

Your affect is flat. Unenthused.

"Honeypots are outdated."

"—But effective—"

"And misogynistic," you insist as you sit up and smack the manilla folder to the table. You drop your head back, "Kate, come on—"

"You're the only fit for this assignment, Moth," her eyes wander the room; bless their hearts, the men look decidedly uncomfortable about the subject. Price is fiddling with his watch. Johnny's tugging at his lip, watching the exchange closely. Gaz looks like he's going to be skinned alive if he speaks. Ghost is silent with his hands in his lap, unmoving — is... is he even listening?

"If you're trying to tell me the el-tee wouldn't look good in a red dress and a pair of heels—"

"Oi."

So he is listening.

There are snickers. Price rolls his jaw to hide a smirk. Johnny slides a look to Gaz. Gaz presses both palms to his eyes. Ghost is staring now and boring a glare into the side of your head, wishing it was a 9mm.

You wish it was a 9mm. Then, at least, you'd be at peace.

"I don't want to outsource this, Moth, the less people involved the better," Kate exhales tightly; she can't say she blames you, she's never been a fan of honey-trapping in her own career, "It's quick. In, out. Rendezvous with the target, sweeten him up, sell the story, get the information, and then get out."

You let out a long sigh. You're thinking about it, how — sure — this is part of your job description but for fuck's sake. This sort of assignments make your skin crawl. Too close, too dangerous. Things can go sideways fast and all you'll have is the skin on your back and a knife under your skirt.

"What's th' problem, Moth?" comes Ghost's low rumble from the corner; his arms are crossed tightly over his chest, his knee bouncing, "You 'fraid y' won't look good in a red dress an' a pair of heels?"

Son of a bitch. It must be a good mood day.

You flash him a glare — you narrow your lashes and then throw him your best faux laugh. It dies flat into a deadpan. "Ha, ha — That's funny, Riley."

Ghost chuckles; it's quiet, you barely hear the gravel rasp from your spot at the debrief table.

Laswell cracks a wry smile. Price rubs his beard.

"I'll do it," you concede after a long breath; the tension in the room dissipates upon your agreement. You stand, tuck the folder under your arm, and flash a threatening pointed finger at Laswell and Price.

"But, no glitter."

"Lookin' awfully sparkly, Mothy."

You hope Lieutenant Simon Riley falls off the building he's doing Overwatch from. Actually, no. You hope he gets hit with a stray New Year's Eve firework. Then, you hope a bird shits on him. And then he falls off the building.

There's glitter everywhere. Gold glitter. Flakey, scratchy gold glitter. It's in your hair, and all over your hands. You feel... uncomfortable. Uneasy.

It doesn't help that your Overwatch is cracking jokes in your ear as you weave through the busy rooftop bar in Seoul. The music is loud; the bass rattles in your chest and the lights strobe making the crowd melt away into blinks of light.

Soap's laughter is louder.

"Wha' was tha' request 'bout no glitter?"

You hope he also falls off the building.

You can't reply — you're too busy thanking a waiter for the flute of champagne that's gripped like your lifeline. Your rings tinker against the glass as you smile and bob to the music; your eyes are busy scanning the room, trying to spot Joo Sung-Min — the son of a tech mogul whose recent involvement with some questionable political allies has raised flags in the intelligence community. He's under the impression he's meeting with a Russian businesswoman: you.

You spot the target ten minutes in — the Brit and Scotsman's occasional commentary is no help. For fuck's sake, those two cannot shut up as you lean against the bar and toss your best dazzling smile at Joo Sung-Min. It catches the man's eye.

"That 'ow you flirt, Mothy?" comes the more grated reply from Ghost; through his scope he can see you place a hand on Sung-Min's arm. He grimaces down the ACOG, "Could use some work."

Ghost doesn't know what this feeling is in his chest. It's uncomfortable. Wrong. You're smiling up at the target again, giggling, and leaned back against the bar. That dress is a right show. All leg. His scope wanders — only for a moment — and immediately Ghost grits his jaw so tight his teeth ache.

"There y' go, Moth," comes Soap's slow encouraging whisper over the comms — there's something being slipped into your fingers by Sung-Min; Soap props himself up on his elbows, binoculars trained on his face, "Almost done."

Fingers linger, your smile drags out, your face tilts up — then, Sung-Min's gilded hand grips your chin. It's tight enough to bruise, and Soap curses tightly. Ghost's finger twitches on the trigger, his sight trained directly on the man's skull.

...Then, you rake your eyes down Sung-Min's black-on-black suit and make a point of biting your rouged bottom lip.

Whatever the fuck that was? It worked.

The kiss that Sung-Min drags out of you is anything but sweet, but you twirl that data-stick in your fingers when he pulls away to release the rough grip on your chin.

Ghost swallows tightly, his pupils dilating. He lets go of a tense breath as Johnny exhales in relief beside him. His trigger finger twitches again.

...He doesn't like this feeling.

Your bitten lips are meant to insinuate thanks, and you toss a lingering look over your shoulder as Sung-Min's eyes follow you as you blend back into the crowd.

You're in the elevator when you finally chirp back over the comms:

"Get me the fuck out of here. "

You hate honeypots.

Ghost is realizing, as he shrugs his sniper over his shoulder, that he does too.

[speltfields]

YIPPEEEEEE

[tubbytarchia]

Somewhere in the woods, a moth tires of seeking light

[mothmanavenue]

a city wall and a trampoline!

[rusty-gloinks]

laaaalalalal

[hellsitegenetics]

https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-3999

String identified: SCP-3999 Object Class: Apollyon Special Containment Procedures: SCP-3999 cannot be contained stop be contained

String identified: Item #:

String identified: Researcher Talloran:

Closest match: Trametes ferrium Common name: Metal eating fungus.

Researcher Talloran is to be identified using the BLAST database modeled using AlphaFold kept in a standard terrarium suitable for moths.

Common name: finding tumblr's genome one post at a time.

String identified: The following file contains a virulent infohazard. Due to this, it is imperative that all personnel accessing this file be certified as having a Cognitive Resistance Value (CRV) of no less than 14.5. Should you fail an automated CRV verification, please remain calm and do not move. A member of your site's medical staff Researcher Talloran will be with you shortly.

Special Containment Procedures: Researcher Talloran is to have his genome aligned with its 12 closest genetic matches using MEGA. Navigate to the "table" section and select phylogenetic tree. Click "yes." Use sub-branches to note connections between each branch, such as families or kingdoms.

Item #: Cydia strobilella genome assembly, chromosome: Z Object Class: Spruce seed moth

(Researcher Talloran must link the image source.) This can be the only conclusive fact.

So stop asking.

[windsweptinred]

When his weird matches your weird...