underestimating the power of friendship is the single biggest mistake you can make as a villain in Star Trek. like “your friends will not come for you” bro you are cooked. wrap it up, babe.
T’Pol looked up as the sound of knuckles rapping against her open office door signaled the arrival of a visitor.
“Knock, knock,” Admiral Jonathan Archer announced himself, peeking in.
“Admiral,” T’Pol acknowledged as she stood to greet him.
“T’Pol,” he said, tilting his chin down and raising his eyebrows expectantly.
“Jonathan,” she amended warmly. “It’s good to see you.”
“You too, stranger,” he grinned and gave her shoulder a friendly squeeze. “Do you have plans for lunch?”
“I do not.”
“Good, ‘cause I’m here to steal you away from lesson planning for an hour or two.”
“I picked this up from Ensign Soo on my way in,” Jonathan added, wiggling a small parcel wrapped in brightly coloured paper.
T’Pol accepted the gift. She did not sigh.
“You don’t look very excited… I mean, even for you,” Archer chuckled.
“Trip believes my new office is ‘sterile and off-putting.’ I suspect this may be a gift intended to ‘correct’ that impression.”
Jonathan’s eyes lit up with a gleam of mischievous anticipation, “You gonna open it before we go?”
T’Pol gave him a flat look. The creases around his eyes deepened as he grinned expectantly. At times, T’Pol reflected, she really was too indulgent with the humans in her life.
There was no real benefit to prolonging the mystery, so T’Pol elected to satisfy Jonathan’s curiosity and her own by unwrapping the gift.
“Oh,” she breathed softly as she discarded the wrapping paper.
She had half-expected a gag gift of some sort. Instead, Trip had surprised her again. She held a watercolour painting featuring a seahorse rendered in pleasing shades of blue and green. T’Pol recognised the work of the familiar artist immediately, even before her eye took in the swirly initials scrawled at bottom right. A simple frame made of pale weathered wood surrounded the artwork, and there was a handwritten card attached to the back.
T’Pol passed the painting to Jonathan as she read the card.
“It’s very nice. Trip really does have good taste sometimes,” he commented. “But, uh, is the card addressed to Annie?” he added, sounding puzzled.
T’Pol shot him a stern glare, unimpressed by his impertinence. Reading another person’s correspondence was rude even by his own cultural standards.
“Sorry,” he said. He didn’t sound it. His attempt at looking abashed wasn’t particularly convincing either.
“It’s from my niece Erin. She painted this for me at Trip’s request,” T’Pol offered in explanation.
Jonathan pursed his lips and drew his eyebrows together, “I don’t follow.”
It was curious that her husband had not shared what he considered to be a very amusing anecdote with their longtime friend. “Trip has never told you this story?”
She received only a bemused head shake in response.
“He is a far more entertaining storyteller than I am, but I will convey the facts,” T’Pol said with a wry note in her voice as she propped the painting up on the corner of her desk temporarily. She had to admit it did make the space seem more inviting.
Amusement tugged at the corner of Jonathan’s mouth. “I’m sure the Professor T’Pol version will suffice.”
T’Pol gave him a flat look.
“Erin is the daughter of Trip’s cousin Laura. I first met them about eight years ago when Erin was almost four years old,” she began.
T’Pol didn’t need to specify that that had been less than a year after she and Trip found and then lost their Elizabeth. Jon nodded, sympathy evident in his gaze.
“Trip and I accompanied some of his family members on an outing to an aquarium.”
T’Pol had been wary about accepting the invitation; she was still unsure of her place in Trip’s family, and she had very little experience with children. Trip hadn’t pressured her to attend, but he had warmly encouraged her to ‘live a little.’ As the day progressed, T’Pol’s doubts had faded into the background of an enjoyable day. Erin frequently asked Uncle Trip to lift her up for a better view and requested Ms T’Pol read the informational signs aloud. The seahorse exhibit was a firm favourite, prompting many follow-up questions.
“Afterward, when we stopped for a meal, Erin asked to sit next to Annie. There was no Annie present. It quickly became clear that Erin had misheard when her mother introduced me as Aunt T’Pol and believed my full name was Anne T’Pol. She had quite politely and formally addressed me as Ms T’Pol until then,” T'Pol recounted.
Archer chuckled. “And you let that slide? T’Pol, you softy.”
T’Pol tilted her head, recalling the memory fondly.
“Can I still call you Annie?” Erin asked T’Pol cheerfully as she clambered into the restaurant booth beside her.
“Oh, honey,” Trip interjected sympathetically, shooting T’Pol an amused glance. “Vulcans don't really do nicknames.”
T’Pol responded impulsively to the disappointed look of comprehension from the little girl at her side. “I believe an exception can be made in this instance. An informal– a nickname would be acceptable. From my niece. You may call me Annie if you wish.”
Before she could question the logic of her response, T’Pol looked up to see two pleased pairs of blue eyes shining at her. Unexpectedly, the moniker had stuck.
“She is my niece, and I am her Annie,” T’Pol said simply. “However, I am not Annie to anyone else,” she stressed seriously. “Nor will I be accepting any other nicknames.”
Jonathan grinned, clearly already intent on pressing his luck. “All right… Ms T’Pol, let’s go get that lunch.”
T'Pol did not sigh or roll her eyes or even shake her head as she followed him out of her office. She was far too disciplined for a display like that.
She pulled the door closed behind her, and paused to send Trip a simple message: Thank you.
His reply was quick: Told ya I knew just what you needed!
T’Pol felt a warmth in her chest. She would allow her mate his smugness this once, for he really was very good at knowing just what she needed.
2,300-Year-Old Plush Bird from the Altai Mountains of Siberia (c.400-300 BCE): crafted with a felt body and reindeer-fur stuffing, all of which remains intact
This artifact was sealed within the frozen barrows of Pazyryk, Siberia, for more than two millennia, where a unique microclimate enabled it to be preserved. The permafrost ice lense formation that runs below the barrows provided an insulating layer, preventing the soil from heating during the summer and allowing it to quickly freeze during the winter; these conditions produced a separate microclimate within the stone walls of the barrows themselves, thereby aiding in the preservation of the artifacts inside.
This is just one of the many well-preserved artifacts that have been found at Pazyryk. These artifacts are attributed to the Scythian/Altaic cultures.
listen, they are never going to stop making star trek shows. So i know if i bide my time and wait like 10-20 years there will eventually be a star trek show where kirk and spock are a gay couple. there is only so long they can beat the gay spock allegations down with a stick thats all im saying.
Vivaldi on his deathbed in 1741: please, put it into my will that the first movement of my Spring concerto can only be used to indicate fancy settings in cartoons or as hold music for the absolute worst call centres.
Vivaldi's lawyer: Antonio what the FUCK does this mean
Vivaldi on his deathbed in 1741: please, put it into my will that the first movement of my Spring concerto can only be used to indicate fancy settings in cartoons or as hold music for the absolute worst call centres.
Vivaldi's lawyer: Antonio what the FUCK does this mean
okay yes it's often bad and hard and sometimes i am so anxious my whole body feels like it's vibrating but also at the same time the gps took me a different way on my drive and i got to see more of the river than i usually do and yesterday the sun was still above the horizon after 7pm and that was amazing and the whole sky turned an orange-gold like how they try to make ice cream taste; you know, one of those evenings that just tears you open no matter how jaded you get. it's warm for the first time here and people had lined up against the water just to stand outside and watch the sunset
and yeah it's tax season no i haven't done mine yet but when i mentioned it offhand in a single side-comment three days later my friend sent me a list of helpful tips and followed up to see if i'd need help on them
there's this parking lot for a walking trail near where i live and one of the two google reviews is my actual favorite: love it here. there were so many beautiful parking spots but sadly we could only take one. and no this person isn't going to go viral and probably the only people navigating to this spot are extremely local - but there's something so precious to me about someone taking the time to write something that will make strangers in their community laugh, even though there's no way for me to tell them good one! directly
yes i am not doing well sometimes i'm doing even very-badly but recently i have been given enough breathing room to say okay, this situation is bad, but then it will be over, and you will be moving onto the next thing and it's true that i need to get groceries and pay rent and argue with my health insurance but it is also true that in the absolute stress and anarchy of my life today someone recognized my dog before they recognized me and was so excited because "they tell everyone about the greyhound in the area and didn't get a picture before so can they take a picture now please"
in class we all stand in a circle and are all grown adults and for a moment while the teacher is figuring something out, we all hold hands, just to be silly and connected. for no reason at all at 8pm on a thursday my friends and i start breaking out the dance moves to high school musical. my coworker gchats me during a meeting about the book he recommended to me and i'm enjoying reading
i help a high school set up for a star-themed dance and while putting up streamers i find graffiti that says if you're reading this, i love you, and we're both going to get out of here right next to fuck everyone, live out of spite, don't let the fuckers make you die. on the bridge where i walk my dog someone has written i love you and on the sidewalk in chalk someone has written i love you and on the side of the water tower someone has written i love you
at the bottom of a text post an internet poet says - i love you, i love you, i love you. i've never met you, i love you because you exist and we exist together. and isnt that enough for now. just for this moment, i mean. like, if you just close your eyes and breathe - somewhere, across this world, i love you, because you're here with me.
It gives me joy that Prodigy doesn't follow the 10-episode-season thing. By the end of Season 2 we'll have FORTY episodes of Prodigy, and after season 3? SIXTY.
[Video description: a TikTok from @snubbyj showing a person playing “Mamma Mia” by ABBA on the RimbaTubes, an instrument made out of PVC pipes. The person uses paddles to whack the tops of the tubes and looks very happy. /end description.]
Here are some boards I did from the Steven Universe episode “Last One Out of Beach City”!
I love going to shows, but maybe even more than that, I love making things about going to shows. Cars, convenience stores, awkward social interactions and of course music is somewhere in there too. So I was super excited when the idea came up to take Pearl to a house show. Hilary Florido & Lauren Zuke boarded the episode, but I got a chance to put in some bits and even draw my buddy Mike Krol singing. If only there was somebody skanking. Nevertheless, this is one of my all time fav eps.
kianamaiart
gracieabrams
s-u-f-j-a-n-s-t-e-v-e-n-s
2087
areudirty
stormborns
origamiaround
discoholicmusic
dailybridgerton
