oozey mess
roma★
★
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pixel skylines
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let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
d e v o n
tannertan36
wallacepolsom
Aqua Utopia｜海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
Discoholic 🪩
❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
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Three Goblin Art
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Kiana Khansmith
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I'd rather be in outer space 🛸
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@alljvststars
❝ we have calcium in our bones, iron in our veins, carbon in our souls, and nitrogen in our brains — 93% stardust, with souls made of flames, we are all just stars that have people names. ❜
a star trek multimuse || indie & mutuals only // by cían
rules | muses | meme tag | tracker
drafts: x | asks: x | starters: x | queue: x « hiatus.
“Seriously, how can anyone even see on this ship?” - Honest Trailers [x]
siriseen:
“Want something to bite?” She doesn’t really want to offer her another anesthetic, in case it reacts poorly with whatever’s in this. You can never be too safe. Especially if they’ll be strapped to this rock for longer than she wants. The worst thing would be to have two medical emergencies to deal with at once — on the same patient, no less.
She drops some gauze on Christine’s shoulder, just in case she does — and then flips the cauterizer on and, in a fluid motion, begins melding the gaping hole in Christine back together.
“No, thank you,” she mumbles, more on the inhale than the exhale. She’s preoccupied mentally gearing herself up for—
It doesn’t help, of course. There’s no amount of thinking that makes flesh re-knitting itself together feel any less searing. A small, wet sound breaks through her lips, convulsive, and her fists clench tight enough to turn the tips of her fingers patchy white, but she doesn’t wince. She screws her eyes shut for one moment, then opens them to watch Sirise work, breath shaky but slow and controlled.
empathicstars:
There had to be something here. There had to be. She could taste it in the strange near-tentativeness that settled into Lieutenant Leath — into some distant anger that was still too sharp, still untempered even from time, too large and too comfortable within her to ever fully be dislodged.
Was Lieutenant Leath the type to hold grudges? Aella was unsure. She had no other standard to which to hold anything up. Did Commander Leath deserve this treatment, truly, or not?
And, really — was it her place to decide any of this?
“… Will you attempt?”
The look in Aella’s eyes made her skin tingle like it wasn’t quite attached to the musculature underneath, and Avril ground her teeth against the urge to cringe. Or to revolt — there weren’t many people she’d tolerate that kind of clear, hopeful expectation from.
Maybe only Aella.
Certainly not her fucking brother, who didn’t have any claim to her time or her respect outside of what she’d owe to any other crewmate. Less than that, actually, and at least he knew it. Wasn’t Aella fucking Moore supposed to be smarter than this?
“Fine,” she muttered, if only because there wasn’t a faster way of ending this conversation on the table. Whether she meant it.... That was a question of whether she cared more about Aella or about hurting Mal, she supposed, and was half-surprised how close of a call that would be.
“Fucking awful waste of a request.”
And me, with my wounds, with my violent blood, with my painful and untranslatable experiences,
Daniela Crăsnaru, from Letters from Darkness: Poems: “Oxford Street,” (via violentwavesofemotion)
siriseen:
“I always practice. I’m not an animal; I don’t go barreling in without a second thought.”
It’s a lie. If there’s anyone on this ship that’s an animal, it’s Sirise Jihnou. She’s a beast in a person-suit, barely held together with thin seams and good intentions. But she is methodical, so perhaps we’d agree that it’s a half-lie, a half-truth, an attempt.
“I don’t practice on you if you’re the one I’m going to talk to dummy.” Her eyes are flat with playful irritation. “Come on. Aren’t you curious what I have to say at the least?”
She scoffs at that— the animal thing, of course, not the bit about practicing. It doesn’t surprise her for a moment that someone as deliberate as Sirise practices conversations. It would surprise her if Sirise sees herself as entirely a person.
( Pot, kettle, and all that. )
“Alright.” Finally the newspaper is set aside, clear cold grey eyes smiling over a hit me gesture that’s more than a little condescending. “What is it, Doctor?”
aviophobic:
“That’s how I feel about it,” he says confidently, looking elsewhere if only so Christine may continue to smile that way without being looked at. It’s enough to see it in the reflection before them, superimposed over the vast expanse of stars, and it’s good enough for him knowing that he somehow had a hand in coaxing it out of her.
“Bayou,” Leonard mutters again, a tad theatrically. It’s difficult for him to hit upon something that works, and not want to continue on as long as it proves effective.
“Where d’you think I’m from?” he demands, on the verge of laughter. “How do you think I was living?”
Good, she thinks. If anyone deserves plans back home —a nice, quiet life waiting for them offboard the Enterprise,— it’s him.
Christine can’t see herself ever going back to Cambridge for longer than a few days’ shore leave; all that’s waiting there for her are sour memories and sisters she loves but doesn’t really know how to talk to. Starfleet is more of a home to her than the Chapel household ever was. But Leonard? Someday, he belongs back in...
Well: “The swamp,” she nods as seriously as she can, through the beginnings of a little laugh pulling at her mouth. “Alligators and bluegrass, and all that. Do you mean to tell me you didn’t grow up in a Twain novel?”
Loving Vincent (2017) dir. Dorota Kobiela, Hugh Welchman
empathicstars:
Lieutenant Leath was correct. Nothing was different than it was from this morning. The only change, really, had been in the information Aella had received. This is how it always was, how people always were. She met them understanding the breadth — or near it — of their feelings, and over time, would get glimpses into what they meant.
Nothing was different. People truly did not have secrets that were not carved in them, regardless.
“I am always weird,” she reminded, a bit brusquely. Besides, what was it Lieutenant Leath said earlier? “… People get emotional at these kinds of places.”
She sucks in a sharp gasp, eyes wide and round in a way they usually aren’t, and then a bright, uncharacteristically easy laugh breaks through the empty spaces in her mask. It makes her look younger, not entirely herself.
“You are!” she agrees, still laughing, shaking her head. “You are.” If she’d been about to forget, that was a good enough reminder. Lt. Moore isn’t just anyone. She’s all sharp pieces under those stiff shoulders. Maybe someday Avril’ll cut herself on one.
She hopes so.
You aren’t exactly people, as used in that sentence, she’d usually say now. But Aella’s offered her a handhold, here. It’s only fair play to give it back. “Well, if you need to talk about your feelings... I’m around, I suppose,” she grins, and winks.
siriseen:
For a second, Sirise thinks Avril’s signing. Her fingers come together like she’s saying pain — which shouldn’t elicit a laugh, but does — and then they circle around another. Go? She’s signing go. Does she even know? Is she trying to?
Sirise loves it when people sign to her — so maybe she shouldn’t be simpering predatorily at her companion, eyes just a bit too sharp…
“You don’t have any goals till death?” Nothing at all? What a waste…
Avril blinks, quick, eyes glittering like a computer system rebooting. When she finds her voice another second later, it comes out tight, curt: “Of course I have goals.”
It’s only fools and megalomaniacs who think they can leave a mark on the world, right, so of course that’s what Avril means to do. Does. There are entire ships and stations and colonies that are still alive, thanks to her.
There are entire ships and stations and colonies that are dead, thanks to people as ambitious, as self-righteous, as determined of their own power in the world.
She crosses her arms, tilting her head at Sirise with a blank-faced sort of consideration. Smiling again. “I just keep my work and play separate, yeah?”
aviophobic:
While he thinks his decision to go a little easier on her today might have been the right one, he is still at a loss as to what he can offer other than his presence. The way Christine answers tells him that she has been very much in her head, as expected, and that he should tread carefully. Leonard has grieved. He knows all too well how any topic, any conversational detail, can be somehow, stubbornly, traced back to the source of the pain.
Everyone’s significant, she tells him, and he knows she is right. In the short span of silence that settles comfortably between them, Leonard gazes out into the black, wondering what it might have been like to live in a time where you might gaze up at the sky and not know what might be up there. Now he is up there. He and Christine, and this ship, and everybody on it. Horror and danger are up here, but so are beauty, discovery, and progress.
“Everyone knows that, huh?” he chuckles, grinning crookedly and giving his head a little shake. “In the bayou? Nah.” A beat, then, “Was thinkin’ about gettin’ a house boat.”
“In the bayou,” Christine —a born-and-bred Northener they both know damn well has no has no concrete idea of what Georgia looks like, aside from his accolades for the place— insists, the beginnings of a grin forming around the corners of her mouth. “Everyone knows that for a fact.”
Jokes aside, she knows they can’t depend on any future for certain, but in her heart of hearts Christine simply can’t picture Leonard McCoy going out before his time. Maybe it’s something about his grudge against the stars that makes her picture him back on their homeworld someday, or maybe it’s just a childish reliance on sense of the stability her boss brings to their lives. But it’s a superstition the universe will have to pry from her cold, dead fingers.
“Really?” she asks, and there’s the real smile that’s been eluding her since Exo-III. “That’s good. That would suit you, I think.”
empathicstars:
Not for the first time in her life, Aella felt as though she had failed. In this entire situation, she had been too… nothing. Even if Lieutenant Leath had appreciated it – even if Lieutenant Leath preferred it – sometimes one had to face the difficult work of embroiling themselves in what was least comfortable to get the best outcome.
But… were Aella and Lieutenant Leath not perfect case studies of doing so, already? Were they not committed to that silent cause, regardless?
Besides… if Aella were more outwardly feeling, it was likely Lieutenant Leath would not have offered anything at all to her.
So, in silence, the two of them walked, and Aella attempted to decide if it was sentiment or pure boredom that had gotten Lieutenant Leath involved in sustainability. Neither of those seemed quite right, though. Perhaps – anger? A revenge, of sorts? A way of striking against her past, even though it was too far away to reach?
They grew closer to the center that would have their assignment, and though Aella did not quite recognize it, her pace sped up, left her walking next to Lieutenant Leath, body angled almost in front of – as though nearly protective.
The further they got into the city, the less alien it all seemed— The engineers who had redesigned Tarsus IV had taken pains not to resemble the city as it had looked under Kodos’ control, but Avril had never really gotten a good look at the city. She’d only been twice, once with Tía Olivia when she’d been too young to remember, and once when the city had been unrecognizable, too overtaken by Starfleet medical tents and officers facilitating evacuation.
Her memories of the city as it had really been were confined to old photos, the same as anyone else’s, so the differences didn’t jump out to her the way the changes in the fields did.
“You’re not going to be weird about this, right?” she asked, eyeing the increasing shift in Lt. Moore’s posture. It wouldn’t be the first time anyone had started treating her something breakable, but that never made it less grating.
“Nothing’s actually different from what it was this morning.”
and if you’re still bleeding, you’re the lucky ones… [x]
it’s midnight and there are too many bees in my skull to write… here’s some character study sketches while i get a feel for how to draw my garbage kids
aviophobic:
“Wasn’t planning to brag,” he mutters, resting his hands on his thighs now and tipping his head back, trying to get his neck to crack. The muscle stretched across the back of his skull feels tight as anything, and nothing he does is doing anything at all to relieve the sensation. “But that doesn’t change the facts.”
Even if there happened to be a small team on their way to spring for rescue, Leonard honestly doesn’t think it would be the right move. Their being detained is a precaution more than anything; it’s protocol, which he can understand and appreciate even if he can’t help but feel indignant. It isn’t as though these people know him, certainly not well enough to understand that he’s got more honor and sense than a common thief. Pressing too aggressively for their release could be catastrophic for relations. He can practically hear Spock insinuating as much, even if he knows Jim would rather find a way to earn their immediate freedom.
“Don’t worry about it. I was plannin’ to offer myself up to some other game you’re great at, after, to ease the pain.” The doctor is not a sore loser and doesn’t ever anticipate such a trait in others. For all he knows, experienced player or no, Avril could have trounced him in the lanes and he’d have been proud of her for it.
Avril muffled a wry giggle in her elbow, eyes still following their restless guards. “Oh, and you’re a good braggart. Very subtle,” she says like it’s now the thing she respects most about him. Doesn’t change the facts. Brutal.
“But now you’re just signing yourself up for increasingly esoteric logic games,” she adds with a quirk of an eyebrow, all smug sharpness despite the way her gaze flickers between him and the guards.
She means to relax through this, but... hmm. It’s hard to turn off the instincts that scream getting caught is a good way to get killed.
At least intellectually, she does know this isn’t such a threat. A bit of a diplomatic incident, but not her problem. Still, it doesn’t help to keep a close eye out. A good, solid assessment of a situation never hurt anyone.
Hah.
“I’m sure I won’t be any more gracious of a winner than you are.”
“What is it that the child has to teach?
The child naively believes that everything should be fair and everyone should be honest, that only good should prevail, that everybody should have what they want and there should be no pain or sadness. The child believes the world should be perfect and is outraged to discover it is not.
And the child is right.”
— Rabbi Tzvi Freeman
“Westerners are fond of the saying ‘Life isn’t fair.’ Then, they end in snide triumphant: ‘So get used to it!’ What a cruel, sadistic notion to revel in! What a terrible, patriarchal response to a child’s budding sense of ethics. Announce to an Iroquois, ‘Life isn’t fair,’ and her response will be: 'Then make it fair!’” –Barbara Alice Mann
