Misplaced Lens Cap
we're not kids anymore.
Monterey Bay Aquarium
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
titsay
i don't do bad sauce passes
@theartofmadeline
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shark vs the universe
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda
hello vonnie
Cosmic Funnies
wallacepolsom
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
Keni
noise dept.
JBB: An Artblog!
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trying on a metaphor
Kaledo Art
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@empathicstars
Hello, and welcome to Aella’s blog! Grab some tea, take a deep breath, and stretch out somewhere comfortable and safe! If you’re new here, please peruse my links, and let me know if you need anything!
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at the window
In honor of SPOTIFY WRAPPED, send me a number 1-100 and I’ll write you a starter based on the song.
forget about touching grass, i need to touch THE SEA I NEED TO GO INTO THE WATER I NEED TO DIVE INTO THE SEA!!!!!!!!!!!!
He doesn't know this girl. He doesn't know a thing about her, except for the fact that she's the child of one of the most important people in his life, and that's enough. He can't save her, can't run off to Vulcan to rescue her, but he can do this. He can talk to her. And maybe, in that way, they can both connect to her mother.
So he makes a promise he doesn't know if he can keep.
[PADD] I will.
She shouldn’t trust him. He’s an adult, after all, and adults never mean what they say, never ever. (But she also knows that is an illogical viewpoint, and she is wrong, and— oh, her head hurts.) But... she... oh, puerile as it is, she wants to trust him. She wants someone to want to be in her life.
Your mother was important to me. You are, too. She reads it over, and over, and over, and over, until her heart feels less rotten, less like the rock it is.
[ Learning Center ] I believe you.
Stupid...
[ Learning Center ] I can give you ten hours from now to figure it out. That is all. They will catch me at the end of today. [ Learning Center ] I will be back after classes.
Erika L. Sánchez, from "Prodigal Daughter"
Drawn to the Sea
harry was lucky to find this job. he's got the bare minimum of formal education and loves the water, so fisherman, out on the sea, was an option for a while, but he didn't want to be so far from his girlfriend, uma, for the long periods of time that requires, so being on the beach end of that process, taking in the catches, packing them for stores and markets, was the way to go. he likes it, likes the physicality of it, likes using his hands. he's good at it.
it's in doing that job that he notices the girl, the same girl he sees around here most days. he's never bothered her, is more than happy to leave her to her own devices, but it's a slow day today, and he's finally curious (or maybe bored) enough to go bother her, so that's what he does, oyster and knife in his hands.
he walks until he's standing next to her, at which point he uses said knife to shuck said oyster, something he's gotten good at, turning into one quick motion, and holds the half with the meat out to her. "oyster?"
She recognizes the boy with the ruffled, dark hair that approaches her. She does not know his name, of course, but she’s seen him work with the fishermen, on the dock. She tries not to watch that part of the process — the killing of the animals — but she’d still seen him, running about the shore, sweaty and somewhat dirtied.
So he is not a complete stranger. But he is still so much of a stranger, insomuch that when he stops next to her and offers her the dead creature, she freezes, eyes wide, like a deer caught in the lights of a car.
“No... no thank you,” she finally makes out, after several seconds. He’s quite obviously attempting to make a friend, so she stammers, “I— I do not— I do not eat meat.” And I am not a very good friend. But the second part is perhaps better swallowed, rotting away in her throat.
Celeste Ng, Little Fires Everywhere
Nicole nodded as the linguist responded. Not very chatty, but given the professional nature of the circumstances it seemed to fit. She indicated direction with a jerk of her head, and turned toward the cave system entrance as the officer started to follow.
"Tal'ein," she repeated, failing to fully replicate the sounds. She was pretty okay at the glottal stop though-- came from trying to learn Klingon.
"Our guide indicated that we weren't to use artificial lights in the cave passages. It's a little dim, but they've got some glowing substance lining the walls. Think it's from the native wildlife." The entrance was low. Nicole put her hand to the top of the rocky arch as she ducked inside, but she was able to stand up straight just on the other side.
"... The wildlife is probably why we're walking in the dark. Think you'll be alright?"
Aella hardly need duck as she comes to the low entrance. She stares inside at rock meeting daylight, obscured into darkness. Wildlife... She does sense wildlife, indeed. Or — something or other. A strong pull exists — a murmur she cannot fully part her way through, a muddle of colors so interconnected she cannot see what color is being told. A space alive. Full, and teeming.
... She has been standing, a few feet apart from the other, staring off into space, for nearly a minute. She chastens.
“Forgive me, sir.” Her head is bowed in deference. “... Yes, of course.”
... What is it she is hearing...? Something... something demanding... but entirely indecipherable...
Kapka Kassabova, from Someone Else’s Life; “The room, the field”
aella's smile doesn't go unnoticed. laramie doesn't mention it, he was socially unskilled; not inept. semantic? undoubtedly, but there was enough difference there for him to claim it as such.
" it's fine. i think it's better that way." laramie doesn't elaborate. it's not like he could do that, and make perfect sense.
" pfff—counterpoint: someone calling you by the name you don't like is waaaay more impolite. it's called meetin' someone where they're at." he says, almost like a conspiracy theorist. though, that's just how he sounds when he's trying to share his point of view.
“I suppose...” What a thought: Mentor meeting her “where she was at”. It felt like an impossibility. A goal too lofty to carry, too impossible to balance on too brittle a back.
Or, perhaps... as Mentor always said... “Or perhaps I need be more obedient.”
Why she is saying all of this out loud, not even she knows. There is not any universe where Remy actually cares about any of this...
All alone I got nowhere left to go When my nightmares come to life Skeletons and ghosts Everywhere I go Know I'm not alone But I'm on my own
Hello friends I have 900 million things to do before the end of the month on my other blogs and I am also moving so I will be slow. If you are waiting for an IM reply for me try me at serenaushy on Discord. If you are waiting for a reply reply — give me a little, I’ll be back I promise 🙏
Natalie Babbitt, from Tuck Everlasting
"Thank you." She knew it was a silly reason, but it was still a reason. In this line of work, you could not be indecisive, in something even as simple as choosing a bed. One had to be able to, as they say, run with it.
Her eyes widened a bit in surprise, and Savannah paused, cocking her head like a confused owl. "Really? I...thank you, then. I've not been told that. Ever. So it means a great deal to me. As for human, that's as close to an answer as we have. The jury is still out on that one."
Oh... Regardless of the fact that all Aella can sense is gratitude, she feels apologetic that she stumbled into Cadet Boswick’s lack of knowledge over her heritage so clumsily. “I—I see. F-forgive me,” Aella murmurs, face turning scarlet, as she looks down at her bags, pressed against the covers of her bed. I understand, comes in her chest, but... she couldn’t voice that. It was not as though Cadet Boswick would care, either way.
“I simply meant to say... you are behaving in a perfectly rational way. And even if you were not, I would have no room to judge.” Was it true that no one else had ever told her that? Was Aella the wrong one? No... she was being perfectly amenable.
Maybe... just maybe... things would be... different, here. Better...?
When does Your Grace mean to return to the city? I'm not yet certain I do.
" oh, he sounds like a real great guy. " laramie's comment is full of sarcasm, his expression briefly bewildered and then dismayed. he wants to ask how someone can be so cruel, but that would mean holding up a mirror to things about his past that he could hardly remember: hazy memories of suffering that were nearly impossible to piece together.
" i'm technically estranged from my mom? it's complicated. i send her a christmas card every year, and i call her on her birthday. she calls me on mine. it's weird. " and it's better that way—but that doesn't get said. he's not really sure how aliens handle family estrangement as a topic, and he doesn't want to broach it too casually.
finally deciding to lean forward—groaning a little because he'd leaned back for too long—laramie blinks a few times. he seems to consider what he wants to say next; a rare moment of contemplation from someone who usually lacks a filter.
" anyways. next time someone calls you the wrong name, stare at them like they're stupid or something. "
Sarcasm — one of the only things that Aella finds amusing. Her lips upturn, just briefly, before she flattens her expression back down, fighting with the humor between the two. What is happening to her...? She’d almost smiled a moment ago, and then she just actually did! Perhaps Remy... is good at stoking those sorts of feelings.
(It is illogical, but she wants to chase it. She mustn’t... but...)
“I am sorry,” she tells him, leaning back now that it is her turn. “About... your mother.” But as far as staring at someone as though they are stupid... she considers it... “I suppose that would be allowed, but it is incredibly impolite, no?”
