killer ant


Velvet Ants

The Mutillidae are a family of more than 3,000 species of wasps whose wingless females resemble large, hairy ants. Their common name velvet ant refers to their dense pile of hair, which most often is bright scarlet or orange, but may also be black, white, silver, or gold. Black and white specimens are sometimes known as panda ants due to their hair coloration resembling that of the giant panda. They are known for their extremely painful stings, hence the common name cow killer or cow ant. However, mutillids are not aggressive and sting only in defense. Only female mutillids are capable of inflicting a sting. In addition, the actual toxicity of their venom is much lower than that of honey bees or harvester ants. Unlike true ants, they are solitary, and lack complex social systems.

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Roch Thériault was a Canadian cult leader who displayed horrific abuses of his power. While originally his teachings stemmed from the Seventh Day Adventist church he would eventually forbid his followers from contact with the church and with their own family. He would call his followers the ‘Ant Hill Kids’, describing the work they did for him as similar to that of ants in an ant hill. At his height he had 12 adults and 22 children following him, fathering the majority of the children himself.

His abuse of his followers was particularly sadistic. While he isolated his followers from the outside world and any social supports - as is typical of cult behaviour - he became more creative with his abuses. He would beat those who wanted to leave the commune, using belts and hammers, as well as hanging his victims from the ceiling and plucking off body hairs one by one. His punishments continuously escalated, to having his followers break their own legs with sledgehammers, sitting on hot stoves, consuming dead rodents and fecal matter, to instructing followers to cut off each others toes in a show of loyalty. His many children were not protected from his abuses, their were held over fires, nailed to trees while other children threw stones at them and were repeatedly sexually abused.

He also claimed to be able to heal his followers through surgeries. When one of his female followers, Solange Boilard, complained of abdominal pain he took it upon himself to surgically treat the problem. Thériault inserted a plastic tube into her anus to give her an enema consisting of molasses and olive oil, before proceeding to slice open her abdomen and rip a portion of her intestines out with his bare hands. He had another follower stitch Boilard closed and she died the next day. The abuse of Boilard did not stop there, however, as he also claimed to have the power of resurrection. He bore a hole into the dead woman’s skull and ejaculated into it, instructing his male followers to do the same.

Another woman, named Gabrielle Lavallée, survive the horrific abuse that she was subjected to. Having fled the commune and returned she had not only a finger amputated, but her entire arm. Thériault later smashed her in the head with an axe and cut off portions of her breast. She once again fled, and Thériault was apprehended and sentenced to life imprisonment for his many horrific crimes. 

ishipallthings  asked:

stevetony + 28 and/or 29 please! :)

Why not both?

28. “Marry me?”
29. “I thought you were dead.”

Tony can handle being interrupted in the middle of an important project. He can handle realizing there’s no coffee left. He can handle ridiculous politicians. And the media. And crazy fans. All this on top of saving the world from vengeful demi-gods, killer robots, giant ants, and whatnot.

What he can’t handle is seeing someone he loves get hurt. He doesn’t want to think of all the times he failed his loved ones. Pepper. Rhodey. Happy. JARVIS. Too many.

And now here he is pressing shaky hands to Steve’s chest, mentally willingly the blood to stop seeping through his fingers, while the man is clenching his teeth in pain. They were fine five minutes ago. The mission was simple: Get in. Clear out the baddies. Get the stolen tech. Get out. 

It was supposed to be simple, but Tony’s beginning to think that maybe they’ll never catch a “simple” break in their lifetime, mission or not. 

And he had only turned away from a second. A second!

Next thing he knows, a bang sounds off and Steve is stumbling into him and then crumbling to the floor, blood racing from a small wound on his chest. Tony doesn’t think. He reacts. Arm up, a beam of pale-blue light later, and the shooter isn’t standing anymore. Tony doesn’t care if the guy lives or dies. Right now, all attention is on Steve.

He’s out of the suit and on the ground as quickly as FRIDAY can open it. He presses his hands to Steve’s chest, flinching at the gasp that escapes Steve’s lips, and demands FRIDAY call for a medic team and for one of the other Avengers to find them.

Tony tries to not freak out as Steve’s eyes flutter while the man fights to stay conscious. 

“At least it’s not you this time,” Steve manages to choke out, a thin line of blood escapes the corner of his mouth and runs down his jawline.

A bitter laugh falls from Tony’s lips. “God, Steve. Just shut up.”

Steve cracks a grin despite it appearing that he can barely breathe.

“ETA, FRIDAY?” Tony calls when Steve coughs and specks of blood fly.

“Three minutes,” FRIDAY replies.

“It’s y-your turn to pick a p-place to eat, you know?”

Tony’s eyes sting with tears threatening to fall. “Like that matters right now,” he whispers.

Steve doesn’t get the opportunity to reply because the area is immediately flooded with medical personnel and Avengers. Tony allows himself to be pushed away and turns down the offer for help. Bruce, wearing only a robe, kneels next to Tony and checks over himself despite Tony’s protests. 

“Steve would be upset if he found out you didn’t let someone check you out,” is the only thing Bruce says.

Tony doesn’t reply. Instead, he gazes at the large pool of blood left behind after Steve was taken away. There’s just too much. 

“He’ll be okay, Tony. He’ll come back from this.”

“He’s a supersoldier, but that doesn’t mean he’s invincible.” 

“Be careful,” Clint calls from a few feet away. “You’re starting to sound like Cap.”

It’s meant to lighten the mood, but Tony doesn’t react. Clint doesn’t push. And Tony doesn’t remember getting up. He doesn’t remember being led away from the scene or making it onto the Helicarrier. He doesn’t remember changing into his pajamas. 

He doesn’t remember falling asleep, but he remembers Steve’s bloody lips.

When he wakes up, it’s too a voice speaking softly about art?

“ - and I couldn’t find the charcoal pencils you bought me so I improvised and used grease. I hope you don’t mind. DUM-E didn’t. He was rather enthusiastic about help.”

There’s a chuckle. 

A very familiar chuckle.

Tony’s eyes snap open and he shoots to a seating position. Sitting next to his bed, in a tank top with a sketch pad and tentative smile, is a living Steve Rogers. There’s some faded bruising around his temple and his skin hasn’t fully returned to its natural glow, but Steve looks much more alive than before.

“What are you doing out of bed?” Tony asks quickly.

“Well,” Steve starts as he scratches at his cheek, sheepish smile in place, “I woke up and no one was around. I feel much better and I went looking for you and you weren’t in your workshop so FRIDAY told be where you were. I found one of my sketch pads and decided to draw until you woke up.”

“You should be resting, Steve! You lost a lot of blood!” You shouldn’t have come looking for me.

Steve shakes his head. “Supersoldier, remember?” 

“Uh, no. If I can’t use the excuse of ‘having the suit’ then you sure as hell can’t use ‘supersoldier’ to get out of this.”

He gets a head shake in return. “I’m okay, Tony. I mean, it was a close call. We’ve all had close calls.”

Tony just looks at him in disbelief. “I thought you were dead, Steve. Or going to be. There was,” Tony swallows, suddenly feeling anxious, “so much blood. Too much.”

Steve’s smile vanishes and he now looks distressed. He reaches forward and grabs Tony’s hand, eyes looking straight into Tony’s. 

“I’m okay, Tony. I really am.”

Tony looks down at his hand before his shoulders slump and he sags against his pillows. Steve, good ol’ Steve, is trying to reassure him. It’s not supposed to be like this. Instead of saying this, Tony turns his hands over and Steve immediately entwined their hands. 

“I don’t know what I’d do if anything happened to you,” Tony says finally.

“The feeling is mutual.” Steve strokes his thumb over the back of Tony’s hand in a soothing fashion. 

Tony’s eyes drop to their hands. He sees a faded scar on his ring finger from a time he was messing around his open wires without wearing safety gloves and got shocked. He was lucky to not lose the finger.

His gaze falls to Steve’s thumb and he turns his hand to look at the back of Steve’s hand, to look at the bare ring finger.

It’s not the first time he’s thought about it. Almost everyone has said they argue like an “old married couple,” that they’re too “domesticated” around each other. They had jokingly called each other “husband” before and used varying terms of endearment. 

“You know I love you, right?” Tony asks.

“Of course,” Steve replies with a bright grin, face lighting up in happiness. “I love you just as much.”

“Good because we’re getting married today. Or tomorrow. Gotta’ call Pepper and work some things out. And Rhodey since he’ll be best man and all.”

Steve’s happy expression turns to confusion, then shock, and then he’s laughing. “That’s the worse proposal ever, Tony.”

Tony finds himself grinning. “I don’t hear a ‘no’ from you.”

Steve shakes his head, smile turning almost shy. “Of course there won’t be a ‘no’ but you could ask properly.”

Tony squeezes his hand. “Marry me?”


They lean towards each other at the same time and seal the proposal with a kiss. 

Hope you like it. ^_^

Title: Between the Folds of Submission
Author:  destimushi
Artist: purzelndesbaeumchen
Rating: E (Explicit)
Length: 45,273
Pairings: Dean Winchester/Castiel Novak
Warnings: serial killer case, D/S biology, Dominant Dean, Submissive Cas, suspense, kidnapping, subspace, hand-feeding, spanking, facial

Summary: Castiel Novak, the city’s only Submissive homicide detective, balances navigating a career believed to be a Dominant’s domain and keeping his physical needs in check. When another team drops the ball and a series of gruesome murders lands in Castiel’s lap, it’s simply another day on the job. 

Only this isn’t like any case Castiel has ever worked. Collecting clues and running leads gets him nowhere, until the day he receives a phone call from Dean Winchester, Editor-in-Chief of the popular magazine Cruisin’ Classics. It’s a phone call that has the power to blow the case wide open. 

Castiel races against the clock as the killer ups the ante, but Dean—rich, drop-dead gorgeous, and a famously unconventional Dominant to boot—proves to be a distraction he can’t afford. As the danger grows, Castiel finds himself torn between upholding his beliefs and giving in to his desires. Can he resist his urges long enough to find the killer, or will his biology consume him?

Read on AO3
Check out the art on Tumblr [NSFW]

I love how Hisoka is COMPLETELY absent in the Chimera Ant arc and you think “Hey, wow, we might actually get through an arc without this pedo clown popping up!”
But no. He is LITERALLY in one of the last scenes in the last episode of the arc. Just sitting there gazing over the city. Pondering life. And I love how Illumi acknowledges the fact that he has been totally MIA.

Illumi: I know you don’t watch the news or anything but while you were off finding Chrollo or something, there were these killer ants and it was pretty crazy tbh.

Hisoka:….. Ants?

Illumi: Yeah it was wild. btdubs, Killua and Gon are probably gonna die.

Hisoka : *stands up and strikes a pose* no unripe fruits are gonna die on my watch

Michigan Living

Living in four-season country is looking a-ok these days. Low chances of earthquakes, confederate monuments, tropical diseases, fire ants, Africanized killer bees, or hurricanes up here.  Having an enormous amount of fresh, relatively clean water nearby is also a plus.

anonymous asked:

Speaking from previous experience (I used to try to drown ants when I was in elementary, don't ask why), if you mix sand with water, the ants get stuck in it and slowly sink to their doom. Fun fact.

ooh nice
while we’re here i’d like to take this opportunity to tell a story.
maybe three years ago, in early summer, my family was in the midst of an ant infestation. it was an annual thing, not too bad except we were cleaning about 50-100 ants out of the pantry every day.
at that years peak, i opened the pantry to get some crackers, and there were about 150 ants swarming the area. i freaked (don’t personally have a problem with ants until they’re in my food space, but the mother hates them), called my mom (nobody else was home), she told me to get the ant killer out of the garage. i did, its this poison in an aerosol can that you spray. so i clear out the pantry (maybe 200 pounds worth of stuff) and fucking. DRENCHED. the shelves of the pantry. what i didn’t realize was that you’re supposed to just lightly dust the area, but no, i used half the damn can. there were literally drops of poison dripping down the walls. i’m all proud of myself, but after a while its starts to reek of chemicals, like really bad. conveniently, thats when my parents came home. they FLIPPED their SHIT. i had used SO MUCH ANT KILLER
eventually, what we had to do was move the shelves outside for a week to let the open air clean them out a bit, and spend eight hours that day airing out the house. i got a lecture about the dangers of chemical warfare, non of the food was affected so nobody minus an entire bug colony died, and we haven’t had ants down there since. moral of the story is, i am great at solving problems, but it will probably kill me

anonymous asked:

Killerxcross, no se me ocurre una situacion pero me gustaria que escribieras de esta pareja

Interesante pareja, veamos cómo sale~

Pareja: KillerCross (extras: NightKiller y NightCross)

Esto cuenta como fluff, supongo…

Durante mucho tiempo Cross tuvo que soportar los constantes rechazos de parte de Nightmare, uno tras otro, cada uno de ellos acompañado de palabras hirientes e incluso llegando más allá de lo verbal: golpes.

A pesar de que a los otros “Bad Sanses” les pareció gracioso aquello en un comienzo, con el tiempo les pareció ya molesto. No tanto por las insistencias de Cross, sino por los tratos que recibía y todo a causa de su amorío por Nightmare. Principalmente, Killer era quien más molesto estaba con todo aquello pues, durante ya algún periodo, había comenzado a sentir algo por el ex guardia real.

Veía por el bien de Cross todo el tiempo, inclusive llegó a entrometerse justo antes de que su líder le hiciera más daño. Para el resto no pasó desapercibido aquello, y aunque lo agradecían en parte, sabían que sólo estaba empeorando la situación, pues era más que obvio que aquel triángulo amoroso no iría a ninguna parte.

Así es. Nightmare gustaba de Killer. Y fue el único modo en que logró librarse del de traje monocromático: échandole en cara que amaba a aquel que le protegía.

Fue… algo muy duro para Cross aquella revelación, ¿era entonces Killer la razón por la que su “senpai” le rechazaba? Estaba de verdad dolido, y molesto. El contrario lo notó pero como siempre, le restó importancia. Cross se retiró de ahí sin decir más, yendo directamente a donde se encontraba su compañero.

Fuera de cualquier reacción habitual, una vez estuvo frente a Killer, se acercó a él soltándose a llorar. Oh, en ese momento ya se daba una idea de quién pudo haberle afectado así, y deseaba que en verdad Nightmare estuviese cubierto de petróleo o algo parecido para ir a quemarlo vivo. Dejó de pensar en aquello para consolar a su compañero (aunque no sabiendo mucho de ello tan sólo correspondió el abrazo dándole palmaditas en la espalda).

– Te quiere a ti – murmuró entre aquel llanto, llamando la atención ajena –, soy tan estúpido, debí darme cuenta desde antes… Killer, p-por favor… cuida bien de senp… Nightmare – se corrigió sin separarse.

– ¿Disculpa? No veo motivo para hacerlo – respondió algo cortante.

– Él te… ama – añadió dolido, haciendo suspirar de frustración a su acompañante.

No se esperó para nada lo que le siguió.


Un choquecito de dientes que muy apenas duró un par de segundos para enseguida Killer separarse, liberándose del abrazo para tomar a Cross por los hombros, mirándolo fijamente.

– No significa que le corresponda. Y creo que con esto, más obvio no puedo ser. Me gustas, Cross – el mencionado, aún anonadado por el beso anterior, esta vez se sonrojó bastante –. U-ugh, perdón, ¿fue muy cursi?

– N-no es eso… – musitó bajando la mirada – Es sólo que… nunca te vi más allá de un amigo…

– Lo sé, y lo entiendo – esta vez tomó la mano de Cross para dar un corto beso en el dorso de ésta, ahora sí estaba siendo cursi pero ya le daba igual –. En todo caso, esperaré lo que sea necesario, hasta conseguir una oportunidad.

Bajo la situación en la que se encontraban tan sólo atinaron a sonreírse, eso a Killer le daba esperanzas de, quizás en un futuro, poder estar al lado de Cross. Sólo era cuestión de esperar a ver lo que les tuviera preparado el destino.

New Bombshells and Cover Girl!

DC Collectibles have just announced two new Bombshell statues and the latest in Artgerm’s Cover Girl line!

DC Bombshells: Killer Frost 

Designed by Ant Lucia
Sculpted by Tim Miller

DC Bombshells: Cheetah

Designed by Ant Lucia
Sculpted by Sam Greenwell

DC Covergirls: Catwoman

Designed by Artgerm
Sculpted by Jack Mathews

What are your thoughts on these new statues?