When I was little I was really into catching bugs in my backyard. I would build terrariums in glass jars and spend all summer catching ladybugs, beetles, etc. Pretty much whatever I could find that didn't look too scary.
Well, one time I caught a dragon fly in my little net, and proceeded to grab the little dude by his butt to get a good look at him. I was admiring his iridescent body and wings, when suddenly that bastard contracted and curled his body around, and BIT my finger. I was shocked. It fucking hurt. I began to cry and bolted back to my house to find my grandmother and tell her about these horrible little fuckers pretending to be pretty, harmless insects.
She laughed at me.
Said dragon flies can't bite.
I continued to sob, literal tears coming down my face, pleading with her to believe me and hate dragon flies as much as I did in that moment.
She never believed me, and to this day I hold a place of sincere and admiration, respect, and a bit of fear in my heart towards those flying dragons.