Call me mRNA because AUG AGA GGG UUU UUC AUG GUG GGA UGA
call me poly-A polymerase because AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
Monterey Bay Aquarium

oozey mess
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Andulka
wallacepolsom
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titsay
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me

blake kathryn
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Jules of Nature
TVSTRANGERTHINGS
One Nice Bug Per Day
Mike Driver

⁂

❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
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Origami Around
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@spartan501st
Call me mRNA because AUG AGA GGG UUU UUC AUG GUG GGA UGA
call me poly-A polymerase because AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
Something that I think Warhammer 40,000 storytellers miss sometimes is the sheer scale of their setting. I mean, don't get me wrong - I love the big, dramatic clashes, the characters you can buy in mini form and their convoluted, interwoven lore, the dramatic combats against unstoppable foes across a thousand ruined worlds. But that's the top of the setting, as it were - the most powerful beings in the universe, all fighting for supremacy. And at ground level, the level of the ordinary person, are so many other stories.
Did you know that a Lunar-class void cruiser has a crew of 95,000? Nearly a hundred thousand people, aboard a spaceship five kilometers long. A city, flying through outer space to wage war. Many of those people are proper trained soldiers, fresh from some academy or veterans of long, grueling campaigns, and many more are pressed into service, begrudgingly laying their lives at their Emperor's feet. But, unless the ship is currently actively involved in a really bloody campaign, most of those people were born aboard that ship. Most of their parents were born aboard it. And their grandparents. And their great-grandparents. Lineages stretching back centuries, so far that the original soldier who came aboard has been forgotten. A lot of those people probably know, on some level, that they're aboard a ship flying through space - but a lot of them probably don't, and I guarantee you almost none of them understand what that means. This ship is their world. To look out the window means madness so often that they avoid it - not that windows are readily available anyway. Most of them probably barely even understand that they're fighting. All they know is that when the readouts on their analog instruments display like so, when they hurry to obey the blared orders through the klaxon, the Emperor is pleased with them. They were born into that world. When they were children they did smaller tasks the adults couldn't. Their entire existence was winding metal corridors, laid out according to some archaic design, any logic that might dictate their layout long since degraded after millennia of ignorant maintenance, lit only by emergency lights that have long since become the default. They learned how to read an angle readout or how to relay an order perfectly the way another child might learn history or math. When they grew up, their service was flawless, born of pride and ignorance, and when they grew old and died, their legacy was remembered until it was forgotten. Many were killed in battle, but who cares? They gave their lives to the Emperor - a name whose meaning they don't understand, but whose importance they believe in wholeheartedly, all but synonymous with the commanding officers up above.
Sometimes, the klaxons sound a specific command, and every person on board who understands what it means feels a deep, awful dread as they run to their battle stations. They don't know what a warp jump is. They don't understand they're going from one place to another by the fastest way available. All they know is that, for a time, the ship dips into hell. The corridors go wrong. Things and people might not be where or what they were before. Daemons stalk the halls, and must be killed by any who can hold a lasgun. The overcrowded berths, the little nooks that families find for themselves - they are not private anymore. They are not safe. Things drift through the shift that do not care about the laws of physics, but that delight in killing and torturing human beings. Vast energies shake the ship and tear parts of it away - their home, their world, their existence, the biggest thing they can imagine, assaulted by something bigger. Is it the Emperor's punishment for failure? Is this what battle is? What's going on? They don't know, and no one who does can be bothered to tell them. The dread of those who have seen this before is even worse, because they don't know how long it will be. It might be just a few hours. It might be days, or weeks, or months, or years, or decades. It might be centuries, as the captain of the ship goes hunting daemons deep in the warp - the officers live that long, after all, and have little care for those who don't. There will be people born in hell, who spend their entire lives fighting from the day they can stand, and who die in hell, as old age and need catch up to them and they curl up in a corner to perish. To them, it isn't even hell. It's just the world. The world is death and pain and cruelty, an infinite metal box through which monsters stalk, and sometimes you must run to a battle station and do as you're ordered to do. And sometimes, as they reach forty or fifty or even a ripe old sixty, the ship drops out of the Warp, and, for the final years of their life, they are granted a life of relatively safe service better than anything they ever hoped to dream of.
Those are the kinds of stories I want to see more of. Super-soldiers fighting each other is cool, yes, but I want to see this universe explored. I want stories from the perspective of those that keep the Imperium going, or the aeldar, or the tyranids, or anyone, really. There's just so much potential in this setting. It deserves it.
If you got to be part of making a horror movie, which part you'd want be in?
Story writer and/or director
Character consept art designer
Actor
Special effects (practical)
Special effects (CGI)
Set design and planning + lights
Music and sound effects
Costume and/or make-up designer
Camera man
Editor, quality supervisor
Critic who praises/wrecks this movie in their blog
I just want to watch the movie
Image text: "I'm so sick of living life on survival mode. I want to live in creative mode."
New York City ballet production of Midsummer Nights Dream
The fact this isn't a painting is a testament to one of the greatest feats of set design and production I've ever seen.
My god just look at this! The lighting, set design, photography... I've just never seen anything like it.
I think this is the first time I've ever been wowed by "this ISN'T a painting"!
Sometimes having a reputation for being smart beats actually being smart.
I once beat my school’s chess champion in a game because he spent the entire match desperately trying to work out my strategy because I was “smart” and therefore good at chess.
We were playing with a Lord of the Rings chess set. I was moving the characters I liked best.
I’m terrible at chess.
you won that fair and square
a really smart person would recognizw you were playing some variant of the classic chess strategy, "I just like the horsies"
Crow babies are important
Somehow it never occurred to me that crows start out as babies.
Those are chickens.
Baby crows (and pretty much all baby corvids and birds of prey) are ugly naked nightmares. Birds that come out fluffy, like baby chickens, spend longer incubating in their egg and are more developed when they hatch. Corvids and birds of prey hatch earlier and are less developed and independent at first.
Here are some actual hatchling and nestling corvids
They start out pretty naked and weird, then go through their awkward teenager phase as they start growing feathers
Once most of their feathers are in they’re start practicing flying, but still return to the nest and get fed by mom
If you see a crow that looks ratty or ‘sickly’ hanging out on the ground, it’s probably a fledgling. Look for blue eyes and a pinkish mouth.
@0venatrix
I'm really glad you're here, and I'm really glad I'm here too. life is in no way easy, but as time goes by I'm finding it to be more and more worth the effort
I am glad you do Fish. I am glad you are here too. I hope I will be as happy, as Fish, that I am here.
my therapist: so how are you doing today?
me:
Is your therapist washing you?
used her hand sanitizer
And her sister Phthalo Blue, another slam dunk for copper!
u ever have on mutuals whos so deep in another fandom that u know absolutely zero about and they make posts that look like they speaking another language or some shit
i really appreciate the number of mutuals who are not in any of my fandoms sharing this post. its like a little hello nod as we pass each other in the hall
Alarm cock is this anything
they call it a rooster i think
living on an island is so funny. today there was a turkey stuck in the road. it was very stressed and causing a traffic jam so I pulled over and got out and herded it off the road. It seemed injured, so caught it and looked it over (experienced bird rehabilitator disclaimer). anyway, the rest of the day, everywhere I've done today someone is like, "Oh hey Story. Heard you caught a turkey earlier." Which means people in the cars going by knew me, saw me chasing a wild turkey, and it seemed correct enough that they didn't stop to investigate.
back home, I once spent a heroic and chaotic hour chasing down an escaped chicken in the middle of town, which culminated in my scaling the side of a CVS pharmacy to access its roof (successfully).
that story went up on my old blog, so it's floating around this site somewhere. that's not important.
what IS important is that the final ten minutes of the ordeal was witnessed by a local UPS deliveryman, who then walked into the hardware store where I worked and shouted, "there he is! the chicken wrangler!" then he told everyone within earshot what he'd seen and what I'd done. That was in 2017. Recently he delivered a package to my mom's house, and when my sister answered the door, he said, "doesn't the Chicken Wrangler live here?" It turns out he's still telling my story, like he's my dedicated bard. Toss a coin to your chicken warden etc.,
Like to charge and reblog to cast Chinese scientists destroying the Insulin industry
God I hope those Chinese scientists kill Martin Shkreli 🙏🏻