rotting log


Platerodrilus (Previously Duliticola) is a genus within Lycidae that are commonly referred to as Trilobite Beetles. The common name is derived from the appearance of the females (above), which remain in the larval form during adulthood, a process known as neoteny. 

Trilobite beetles are usually found on the surface of rotting logs in lowland primary forest, where their diet is thought to consist of fungi, rotting plant matter and slime moulds. For such an interesting genus, very little is known about their life cycles and there has been minimal taxonomic work regarding the males of the species, which are illusive.

Photos taken by Connor Butler - Tioman Island, Malaysia.


Wrinkled Peach Fungus (Rhodotus palmatus)

This uncommon species has a circumboreal distribution, and has been collected in eastern North America, northern Africa, Europe, and Asia; declining populations in Europe have led to its appearance in over half of the European fungal Red Lists of threatened species.

Typically found growing on the stumps and logs of rotting hardwoods, mature specimens may usually be identified by the pinkish color and the distinctive ridged and veined surface of their rubbery caps; variations in the color and quantity of light received during development lead to variations in the size, shape, and cap color of fruit bodies

(read more: Wikipedia)

photographs by Dan Molter/Mushroom Observer

Team - Carl Grimes


Carl and Y/N managed to escape the walls of Alexandria for an afternoon. They had been together for a while, but ever since Alexandria, they have gotten closer and more serious. Both of them refused to let safety make them weak. They were ‘hunting’ for walkers. The woods were pretty quiet and they rarely came across any walkers.

They decided to rest, sitting down on a rotting log. Y/N reached around and pulled out two saran wrapped sandwiches from her old knapsack. She handed one to Carl, then proceeded to unwrap hers. Carl devoured his in silence. Rustling in the bushes behind them, caused them bot to spring up and pull out their weapons. A heard of at least five walkers stumbled out of the bushes. Y/N gripped her knife and walked towards the heard. Carl did the same. They dug their knives into the corpses, ending in all of them lying on the ground motionless. They exchanged glances and smirked. It was always fun to kill the dead. 

“We should get back.” Y/N said. Carl didn’t respond, he just looked in her eyes. “What?” Y/N asked. “Do I have something on my face?” She touched her face. Carl laughed, still looking at her.  


“We make a pretty good team.” Carl smirked. He intertwined his fingers with Y/N’s. They were both covered in walker blood, but they didn’t mind. “Come on.” Carl said. They started to walk back to Alexandria.

“So who’s the captain of this 'team’?” Y/N asked.

“Me, obviously.” Carl joked. “I’m the one with the hat.” He tilted the tip of his hat up with his index finger. Y/N rolled her eyes and snatched the hat off of his head. She placed it on her head and ran. “Hey!” Carl laughed, chasing after her.

They had reached the walls, Y/N was still up ahead Carl. She was climbing over into the safe community, Carl on her trail. She jumped down to the gravel, waiting for Carl to follow after her. He did, moments later.

“You can be the captain.” Carl huffed, trying to take back his hat. Y/N backed up, holding the hat behind her.

“Say, I love you, Captain Y/N.” She teased. Carl stubbornly crossed his arms. “I can’t hear you!” She sung.

“I love you Captain Y/N.” Carl pouted. Y/N laughed and plopped the hat back onto his head. Carl secured it and laughed too. “Now, Captain Carl wants a kiss.” Y/N playfully rolled her eyes and ran off.

“Captain Carl will have to catch me first!"   

Xeromphalina campanella “Bell Omphalina” Basidiomycota

Hub Lake Trail, Lolo National Forest, St. Regis, MT
August 16, 2015
Robert Niese

These adorable gregarious fungi are found on rotting coniferous logs in wet forests throughout North America (presumably). These specimens were only just starting to grow, but would likely end up covering the entire wet bottom half of this downed spruce log. Their caps, when fully mature, will measure no more than 2cm across and have a white spore print. 

Fic: I Never Had a Single Song

Also on AO3.

Writing this made me cry. :D

(Kurdel: ‘heart of all hearts’ in Khuzdul.)

The Dwarves all have beautiful, rich singing voices, and they are not hesitant to use them, least of all to shower affection on each other.

That first night, Bilbo discovers, when every voice rose in deep harmony to sing of the reclamation of their home, was only the beginning.

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I passed many contented days with her in the forest, parting low-hanging branches, reaching underneath rotting logs for mushrooms.

We were sitting close to each other, heads together as if in conspiracy. I could smell the fruit she had eaten; I could smell the rose oils she pressed for the other girls, still staining her fingers. She was so dear to me, I thought. Her serious face and clever eyes. I imagined her as a girl, scraped with tree-climbing, skinny limbs flying as she ran. I wished that I had known her then, that she had been with me at my father’s house, had skipped stones with my mother. Almost, I could imagine her there, hovering just at the edge of my remembrance.


Rain hissed down steadily from dark clouds sulking low over the tops of tall evergreens. Down below, fat drops of water coated everything in a sheen of wet, muted by the lack of sunlight in what should have been well-lit midday.Most everything living within the forest was taking shelter save for one small figure which crept from a protected mossy hollow and out into the chilled air.  

Legs trembling, the normally deft faun was having difficulty staying upright, hooves catching on rotting logs and tufts of greenery as he made his way back in the direction of the old willow. His head pounded with agony and his lungs didn’t seem to draw enough air, making his efforts slow at best. Water trickled down his back and into his eyes, causing him to squint, and with such difficulty focusing through the swirling in his mind James didn’t see the small rocky outcrop until he was tumbling over it. 

James landed onto soft moss with a breathless squeak, legs and arms splayed. Legs squirming to the side he tried to force himself up, but moving suddenly felt so impossibly hard and distantly he wondered if it was even worth it. James let himself sink back down, exhaustion pulling him like the current in a river. Breathing shallowly, he let his head rest back into the wet moss, shivering faintly from the chill, and stared as droplets trickled through the thick patches. 

Not moments later he was sucked willingly into a daze, eyes shutting as he was hypnotized by the steady thrum of rain all around.