It wasn’t until half way down the alley that they realized he’d grabbed the banana beside the gun.
Handsome Thane
This is perfect
This was made of pure gold & element zero ♡
NPC Appreciation Week: Day One - Tank-born Krogan.
“Can you show us the way? Help us fight to the lab?”
Dad keeps sharing random facts about bees
- To treat common mites, beekeepers coat their bees in powdered sugar. This kills the mites but doesn’t hurt the bees, and they will clean it off anyway. It does, however, make them look like tiny bee ghosts until they groom themselves.
- Skunks are natural predators of bees. They will grab a mouthful of bees and suck the juices out before spitting out the bees’ carcasses. To keep the skunks from doing this, beekeepers will build their hives high enough that the skunks have to reach their front paws up to get to the hives. This way, their bellies are exposed and the bees are able to fight back and sting them. Either way, bees die.
- Bees are curious, and they may follow you around for a while just to see what you’re doing. Most bees will trail you for a yard or two, but one breed will stalk you for up to half a mile.
*** bees are curious** that is adorable omg
I would be interested in seeing a skunk grab a mouthful of bees. And i like how bees went from curious to stalking real quick
Okay but no one included a picture of ghost bees soooo here:
I was talking with a beekeeper at my parent’s summer blowout party over the weekend (my life is awesome in the oddest ways) and he clued me in to a kind of bee called the ankle-biter that has been bred to fight mites in other bee colonies by BITING OFF AND EATING THE LEGS OF THE MITES and if that isn’t the coolest thing then get the fuck out I am 1000000% here for those bees
Oh, look. Bees. Fluffy, sugar coated bees. Time to get @formaldehydedoesstuff
I was VERY WORRIED THERE for a second because it almost looks like a– bunch of fungus covered partially dead bunch of bees or something. But that is precious. They’re little… linen-looking small walking sugar collections. Excellent.
I had to look up sugar coated bees myself and I found this beauty:
@james-tee CLAUDIA!!! I DIDN’T EVEN KNOW THIS WAS A THING!! SUGAR BEEEEEES.
ACTUAL SUGAR BEES OMG
The memes were true: sweet dreams really are made from bees.
Sweet dreams are made of bees Who am I to kiss a bee Travel the world to see all the bees Everybody Is a bee
Battle couple ❤
“I’ll DM you,” I said.
You sit patiently, expecting a private message at any moment. There’s a knock at your door. It’s me, dressed in a surprisingly well made wizard robe, arms full of books and dice.
“Roll for initiative.” I utter.
the thing about writing fantasy stories is that language is so based on history that it can be hard to decide how far suspension of disbelief can carry you word-choice wise - what do you call a french braid in a world with no france? can a queen ann neckline be described if there was no queen ann? where do you draw the line? can you use the word platonic if plato never existed? can you name a character chris in a land without christianity? can you even say ‘bungalow’ in a world where there was no indian language for the word to originate from? is there a single word in any language that doesn’t have a story behind it? to be accurate a fantasy story would be written in a fantasy language but who has the time for that
Tolkien had the time apparently
LIsten. Linguistics Georg, who invented over 10,000 conlangs each day, is an outlier and should not have been counted.
Have some contemplative EDI. My personal canon is that on the rare occasions EDI leaves the cockpit in her metal body to hang out with the crew, she puts on a pair of Traynor’s extra BDU’s/casual uniform to make everyone feel more comfortable. She IS an ~infiltration~ unit, she needs to blend in right?
(actual reason is that a thumbnail of EDI in the artbook has her wearing human casuals and I thought it was the cutest thing ever and better than the weird shiny jumpsuits she gets in ME3. Here is the lineart for EDI before i colored it as i always like my lines before i color)
One of the best game series I’ve ever had the pleasure to play.
Praying for you to heal quickly!
Thanks! I broke down and went to the doctor today and came home with a variety of medicines so I’m hoping to improve in next few days.
And on a lighter note, I’m here, I’m alive. Work is wearing on me as it’s our busiest time of year so I’m being antisocial on all fronts. I also came down with an upper respiratory infection that’s made watching TV feel like effort. I hope to be on the mend soon and more active once summer dies down a little.
I don’t usually post things related to politics or whatever is going on the world. I prefer to keep my tumblr a lighter place but I’ve had thought, and I wanted to share.
Several generations grew up under the threat of nuclear war during the Cold War. I was born in the early 80s. The Berlin Wall fell when I was in elementary school, old enough to know something big was happening but too young to understood what it meant. So, while technically, I was alive during the Cold War, it isn’t something I’ve ever considered as an influence on my day to day life or way of looking at the world. It’s always just been history to me.
Today I realized, between my faith (or lack there of) in our current President and the escalation of things in North Korea, the fear of nuclear war, the possibility of millions of lives being extinguished at once, retaliatory strikes, and other scenarios that I’ve only considered in terms of movies, films, history, or hypotheticals, are closer than I ever imagined they would be in my lifetime.
As the 90s opened, I’m sure there were many people who hoped their children wouldn’t have to live with the worry of nuclear war. It’s a cat that once out of the bag, can never be put back in, but perhaps they hoped the beast would sleep and grow weak. It wasn’t to be. Just as the generations before us, this is our concern too. The reality of the world we live in.
what if oregon trail was called wagon age: oregons
This made me so angry the first time I saw it I’m reblogging it again.
he’s my favorite. smart. loyal. kind. a great shot. writes poetry… sews.
Tiny Judgement
[[Summary: This was all inspired by asking someone if Wren Ryder and Kandros would have children together. After I finished going “AHAHAHA no” I thought about whether they’d be good with children at all. Result: no. No they are not.
AO3]]
A carefully wrapped present tumbled from Wren Ryder’s hand and she cursed, reaching out to grab it just before it hit the ground, almost ripping off the plain paper in the process. “Shit!” Even finding this much spare paper had been half impossible, and she had very, very carefully drawn playful doodles on it- puppies and varrens, mostly, not colored and not really recognizable as such unless you squinted very, very carefully.
“Nervous, Ryder?” Kandros placed a hand on her shoulder, giving it a pat, but he couldn’t keep the amusement from his voice and she shrugged off his hand with a huff, straightening out her clothes. They exited down the Tempest’s long walkway into the bustle of Aya’s markets, the sun always pleasantly bright and warm, the air always perfumed with fruit and flowers. It was, above all, a safe place, filled with angara but other species too, former restrictions slowly lifting.
Hugging the parcel closer to her chest, Ryder replied, “hardly,” but her tone betrayed her, and she wasn’t about to die on a hill for an obvious lie. “Look, just… what if they don’t like me?” It hadn’t been a concern in her life for at least a few months now; half her actions as Pathfinder meant that people didn’t like her, and she had long ago given up trying to please everyone. This was different though. This was family.
Kandros pulled her to his side briefly, an arm slung about her shoulder comfortably. “They’re just kids. Four, five years old? They’ll like you fine. You have a present.” The utter strangeness of going to visit Scott’s family settled over her, another layer on top of her own anxious lip-biting.
“They’ve been through a lot of shit already, Kandros. Shit that is partially my fault.” Or entirely her fault. Whether or not children barely old enough to walk and talk could understand what had happened to their parents enough was up in the air, but it felt safer for Ryder to assume they knew. If the human Pathfinder had come to their aid faster, if she had saved mom and dad from the situations that befell them, then they wouldn’t be with their new foster parents in the first place.
There wasn’t a good answer for that, so Kandros didn’t even try. He simply walked by her side, occasionally shooting glares to any angara who wanted to stop and interrupt. Given where Ryder’s head currently was, she was grateful. There were always so many damn questions, and she didn’t have answers at the best of times.
They were a little bit early, but only by a few minutes. It was enough time for Ryder to fiddle with the bow she had slapped on top of the package, playing with it so much that the careful curls she had put into the ribbon were going limp and flat. Before Kandros could swat her hand away from worrying it any further, the cheerful shriek of a child interrupted and a small angaran boy came barreling straight into Ryder’s leg, pausing and blinking up at her, half in confusion and half in fear that he might have done something wrong.
Hot on his heels came Scott, Jaal following some distance behind, a turian toddler in his arms, half-asleep but looking at the newcomers with a guarded, wary expression that seemed far too old for her young body.
Corralling the angara up against his legs, Scott offered his arms for Ryder, exclaiming “Wren!” as he did so. His hug felt good, close and so tight she could barely breathe. She took it as a challenge, squeezing him back until he finally yelped and laughed, stepping back and disentangling himself. Meanwhile, Kandros and Jaal shook hands, thumped each other’s shoulders, and exchanged a look between themselves, Jaal shaking his head ever so slightly.
“This is Ovfan.” He pushed the angara forward and the child took a few steps, glancing between his fathers to make sure that it was safe and okay. Finally, he deemed everything acceptable and offered Ryder his hand gravely, an echo of Jaal’s handshake earlier but less personal, keeping her at a careful distance. His eyes flickered back and forth between Scott and Ryder, seeing the resemblance clearly, before they finally settled on her hair. WIth its bright lavender hue, it matched both Ovfan’s and Jaal’s own skin tones reasonably well, and it was clearly unlike anything he had seen before.
“I, uh, got you guys a present.” Kneeling to present it, Ryder was startled when her present was dismissed in favor of Ovfan toddling forward, one sticky hand reaching up for her hair, touching it gently. When she didn’t pull away or express anything negative (though she did shoot a panicked look to Scott, who nodded and made an encouraging gesture) he reached out and took it firmly between chubby fingers and held it up against himself. Okay. This was going well. Better than she had imagined.
Ahead, Jaal had managed to wake the turian bundled against his chest. “Our daughter is Senvea.” Like Ovfan, and like so many other orphans, her parents had fallen victim to the kett, exploration outside the carefully defined boundaries of the settlements still a risky proposition. There were less kett now, but as of yet Ryder hadn’t found their home planet, and they continued to be a problem that cropped up time and time again, persistent weeds in a galaxy that was otherwise finally beautiful.
Senvea clearly recognized Kandros as one of her own, making insistent arms until he took her from Jaal, holding her slightly away from himself, hastily supporting her bottom when Jaal reached forward with only mild panic to show him how. Now properly held, she reached out for Kandros until he pulled her closer, and with a cry of delight, grabbed his mandibles and pulled. Hard.
Ryder would have laughed were it not for Ovfan’s decision, clearly spurred on by his sister, to grab her hair and make a similar tug, apparently trying to see if he could pull off a clump to take home. It took all her willpower not to curse; she had been warned that neither child spoke very often, and that they were both sensitive to loud noises and raised voices.
“And that means it’s time for lunch.” Scott swooped in, picking up Ovfan, Jaal moving to take Senvea back, both of them moving efficiently and with admirable practice, considering they’d been fathers officially for only a few weeks. Children successfully corralled, Scott planted an affectionate kiss on the side of Jaal’s cheek. “We’ll lead the way.” Aya now had another restaurant, one specializing in food suitable for aliens, bolstered by successful trade between colonies, Nexus, and the now-living Angaran home planets.
Ryder and Kandros trailed slightly behind, far enough so that they could speak to each other in a low whistle. “Do you ever think of settling down, having some kids, Ryder?”
Looking at her brother and the children, at the obvious love and the family cohesion that had already formed, something in her heart panged, but then she shook her head, hand going up to her still-stinging scalp. “God, no. I don’t think I could handle it. Plus, there are so many more star systems to see.” Scott had his life and she had hers- they were twins, but they had always been different, and wanted different things. She was still the Pathfinder, and she couldn’t imagine ever slowing down enough to stay in one place.
“You have never said anything more beautiful to me,” Kandros replied, giving her hand a squeeze. For now,t hey were happy to play aunt and uncle, but even happier to go back to the Tempest and some peace and quiet.
Relatively.