#Because bees!!!!

[kwiecista]

Okay, Magda’s honestly just going to give food baskets again this Christmas because I’m tired, but you can go ahead and like this post if your muse wants one.

[fandolion]

Incredible artist Julia Stoess makes these giant 100:1 insect models, I have never seen something more beautiful !

Definition of mastering your craft, they are PERFECT

[crumb-crumblet-s-crumbington]

did it mean anything to you

[1941-crowley-slut]

...

[slfcare]

every time you assume that others are thinking negatively of you or judging you behind your back, you are bullying yourself through them. at the end of the day, you don't know what thoughts are running through their heads unless they verbally express them to you. until then, every one of 'their' opinions about you is nothing more than your fear, and whatever assumption is born from your fear is yours to let go - not theirs to disprove.

[yuukirita]

He's doing hand talk :'D Cute and Sad.

[homoquartz]

i may be guilty of employing this move

[ink-ghoul]

🌻 Skin Commission for GoodTimesWithScar 🥀

It's always so much fun to work on these, I hope you've been enjoying Secret Life!

[randomationality]

head shots of the gang 🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

also did a lil redesigning coz i cannot keep a consistent design for once

(yall im sorry i had to get rid of the funny glasses paxton had I NEEDED TO SHOW HIS OPTICS)

[thebrainrotsreal]

Drew this real quick because I fucking love these two so much ???? Especially Bee. I wish they interacted more so badly. PLEASE.

Also learning how to draw these guys.. slowly.

[foldingfittedsheets]

I have never been able to comprehend when people spell out loud. The letters jumble up hopelessly and I can only hold up to three in my mind before I completely lose the thread of what’s happening.

That made it particularly difficult when I worked at the pizza place. It was no problem when someone said their name, but when they spelled it was like my brain was instantly replaced by panicky static.

A coworker once asked, “Why do you look petrified the second someone starts spelling?”

I just shrugged uncomfortably. It sounded silly to admit I couldn’t spell in my head. Over and over I’d hear a name and have a clear vision of how to write it only to have them start saying letters aloud and my certain spelling suddenly scrambled into gibberish. I’d stand frozen, staring down at the paper trying to remember the name and forget the terrifying jumble of individual letters.

My solution was to simply ignore people trying to spell at me. If some white girl said her name was Kristine and I spelled Christine who did it really hurt? I’d willfully stop listening and just started writing the second they said a name.

This led to a young man in line telling me his name in a light accent. He took a breath as if to start spelling but then cut off to audibly gasp, “You spelled it right!”

I looked up in confusion. “There’s another way to spell Seamus?”

“No,” he assured me.

I felt warm and fuzzy that I could make at least one person happy even if a myriad of Kristy’s went away miffed that I couldn’t listen to their spelling.

[wasyago]

welp, didn't manage to get everything out before season 10 started, but i gotta post it one way or another so here we go! heard there was a fandom swap game going on, wanted to do a couple promts of my own :D

[rainbow-sunshine-unicorn]

Remember when Anthony Bridgerton said:

And then it turns out that this is him with his wife:

[crumb-crumblet-s-crumbington]

tfone humanformers grahh...

[jaewritesfic]

Everlasting Trio Nobody Knows AU DP x DC Part 4

Part 3

(Tim POV! This is a long one 😅)

 Tim almost has it. He's so close to cracking this file he can fucking taste it. He's been fighting this thing for two weeks. It's the most incomprehensible and infuriating code he's ever faced off against, which is fitting considering who gave it to them.

The engineer. THEIR engineer. The engineer they didn't ask for and Tim still isn't sure how they got, and the single biggest mystery in Tim's fucking life right now.

See, a significant amount of Bat gadgets at this point are Tim's brainchildren. He imagines them, he designs them, he workshops and tests them.

A few months ago, he'd had a pouch on his utility belt full of experimental pellets meant for slowing down fleeing vehicles. They were designed to break when run over and the compound inside would expand into durable, sticky foam that would ensnare tires.

He'd tested them in the cave.

He had not been prepared to take one hit to that side and have to frantically divest himself of that pouch before he became Gotham's latest foam based cryptid. 

His family had laughed themselves silly at him even as he broke off in pursuit of the drug runners he'd been fighting.

When Tim had doubled back expecting a mess to clean up and pellets to rework? It had been gone. All of it. The foam, the pellets, the pouch of his utility belt.

A serious problem, because who knows who got their hands on that?

Then it had shown back up.

That is to say, Gordon had called them because he found a pouch with a note labeled ‘for Red Robin’ sitting on the stand of the Bat Signal and didn't dare touch it.

After making sure it wasn't a bomb or some kind of biological weapon, Tim had opened the pouch - his own belt pouch - and found pellets. New pellets. Different pellets.

The note just read, “As funny as that was to watch, I fixed them for you. No more premature sploogage on the job. :3 P.S. here's a recipe for solution to dissolve future intentional discharges.”

They'd been right, too. The new pellets were tested (in case THEY were a bomb or biological weapon) and they'd been just strong enough to safely transport but still break when under the pressure of tires. Even the foam was more effective, and the spray Tim synthesized from that stupid recipe had worked like a dream.

What. The fuck.

This person not only improved his design and came up with a dissolution agent from scratch in days, they'd been watching without him knowing and made off with the original pellets without anyone noticing.

This was either a rogue in the making or someone they wanted on their side, and either way they needed to be found.

So Tim had done the obvious.

He'd put together a lockbox of money for the product they'd been given, loaded it with no less than ten (10) bat trackers and a note thanking their mysterious benefactor and requesting to meet up. He'd exploded a foam pellet on a rooftop and left the box on it in the hopes they'd notice and find it, then hung around far enough to not be seen and close enough to beat feet as soon as the trackers started moving. 

They did not start moving. They all went offline simultaneously. 

Tim has never moved so fast in his life, and yet by the time he got to the rooftop there was a pile of foam and nothing else. Not even a trace of whoever took the lockbox.

The next day, there was a ping of one (1) tracker that led them to a note thanking him for the money, refusing to meet, and asking if they'd considered certain improvements to their grapples with schematics for said designs.

Thus started the most bizarre and infuriating chase through notes, money, helpful designs and disappearing trackers Tim has ever been a part of.

Last time, the engineer had left them a USB stick and a note claiming that since they really wanted to know about him so bad, they could have the information on the USB if they could crack the encryption on the zip file inside.

Obviously they screened heavily for viruses or backdoors, but long story short Tim has been trying to crack the fucking thing for two weeks and refuses to let Oracle help. It's personal. It's a matter of pride. 

He could swear the code itself has actively been sabotaging his attempts to hack it, which is, you know. Impossible. 

Ping!

Tim blinks, looking over at the map on another monitor of the Bat computer. 

“Motherfucker-”

He taps into Duke’s comms. This is the first time this has ever happened during the day shift, he wasn't expecting it.

“Signal! I need you on the roof of the warehouse on the corner of Fifth and Everest - a tracker just came online.”

Another thing that infuriates Tim. You can't just turn Bat trackers on and off. They're activated, and then they either stay active or they're destroyed. They can't be turned off and then reactivated.

And fucking yet.

Duke groans, but his own tracker starts making its way in that direction.

“Dude. He's gonna be long gone by the time I get there. He always is.”

“He can't run from me forever,” Tim insists. “I'm almost in this damn file, and I am going to find him and dangle him off a roof from his ankles for giving us this runaround, so help me God.”

“Uh huh,” Duke deadpans. “Sure you are. I'm almost there, and- oh look! A note. What a surprise!”

Tim hears Duke touch down on the rooftop, eyes on the code on his screen while his brother clears his throat and reads aloud.

“Ahem- ‘Good morning, sunshine!’ - guess that's me - ‘I hear some bats and birds have been murdering tires at an alarming rate with the way they drive their bikes-’”

Tim freezes. He's not listening anymore.

“Signal.”

“‘- and that just can't be good for business. Nobody wants a bald tire ruining a chase. So boy do I have the thing for you-”

“Signal!”

“What?”

“I got it.”

“Huh? Got what?”

“I cracked his file. I got it.”

Tim is staring, wide eyed and full of a mixture of elation and trepidation at the contents of the zip file. It's a single text file titled, ‘Wow! You did it!’

“Oh, shit? Well? What's in it?”

Tim swallows, mouse hovering over the file. He takes a deep breath, then double clicks.

The file opens.

Tim blinks.

“Red Robin? What's in it?”

Tim scrolls slowly down, disbelief and horror dawning across his face. “Oh my God.”

“What? Come on, man, talk to me.”

Tim scrolls further.

“Oh. My God.”

“Red? Red Robin, you're scaring me, man.”

Tim puts his face in his hands. Voice muffled, he responds.

“Duke.”

“...Red? You okay?”

“No.”

“No?”

“It's the entire Bee Movie script.”

Silence reigns for a solid five seconds before Duke breaks and descends into raucous, hysterical laughter.

Even muffled by his own hands, Tim's scream of rage scares the bats in the cave into a tizzy.

Part 5

Masterpost

[tow-bees]

snapple knees