#Salty Nebula

[experimentkc]

Didn't share this publicly until now, but Ryuko Rose (@salty-nebula / @salt-comet) drew a picture of me last month!

This was made as part of a #SixFanarts drawing that Ryuko decided to do for the Discord server we're on focusing on Lilo & Stitch experiments. I actually did not personally request myself for the drawing; when Ryuko said that they were accepting both official and fan-made experiments (instead of just the official ones), another member suddenly requested my experimentsona to be drawn, much to my surprise. Ryuko said that they would draw others' fan experiments if they consented, so I allowed mine to be drawn but only with other fan experiments.

So Ryuko did two of these #SixFanarts sheets, one with only canonical experiments and one with only fan experiments. I'm only sharing my sona's panel from the latter since they haven't shared either of their full sheets with anyone outside of the server. If they do share the full sheets, I'll reblog them.

[snowe-zolynn-rogers]

What are your thoughts on the theory that Forkface is secretly Pisces who ran off to play earthling awhile ago?

I don't think he'd be one of the twelve zodiacs, it would be too easy for the show to go toward and they like making everything complicated.

But we do know there's 16 Astral Bodies, 12 of them being the zodiac signs, leaving 6 outliers. We only know Nebula from the 6 outliers, so he could be one of them, mayhaps.

[statisticalcats2]

I was thinking about how Tony invented time travel for Peter (as I do) and something that just connected in my brain about this is... how big a deal Peter is in his relation to Tony when you factor in how fucked over by canon Tony is when it comes to relationships with other characters. It's a common joke that people will be like "how do you expect me to see the Avengers as a found family when I can barely see them as work friends?" and I feel like Tony gets the worst of it.

Looking back over all these movies, with all these characters Tony's been teamed up with, "friends" with, etc, there's literally only four characters that I'm left feeling like have any lasting, genuine care and friendship for Tony and that's Rhodey, Happy, Peter, and Nebula. And the friendship with Nebula is after the Snap, after Peter's already gone. So before her, only three characters like this. Everyone else is always blowing him off, abandoning him, ignoring his pretty explicit cries for help, listening to tabloids over the man himself to make decisions about his character, etc.

He lost so much when he lost Peter. And it makes so much sense that he only agreed to help undo the Snap because it would bring Peter back. He would have done the same if it was Rhodey or Happy. Or Nebula if the series of events were in a different order and their friendship came before the Snap. Tony's surrounded by people but he has so few actual deep connections, and so many of his relationships he cares more about the other person than the other person does about him. The places these four have in his life can't be understated.

Close to zero percent chance it was at all intentional, but it's actually artistically beautiful how one of Tony's few fully reciprocal friends is Nebula, the character introduced as an antagonist and spends one and a half-ish movies seen as Gamora's more violent, villainous sister, and then we find out her past where she dearly wanted to have an actual sister in Gamora and it was Gamora that fostered the hostile relationship between them. Gamora was a child in all this so it's not really the same, she doesn't deserve the blame I'd give to Tony's adult "friends" who constantly mistreated him. But it makes for such an interesting way of seeing Nebula and Tony's friendship. They're more thematically similar than many (even the writers) probably think.

[nebuladreamz]

Happy birthday dude! :D

🎉 🍰

FUCK YEAH SNACKS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[mcntsee]

cold

summary: Y/N faces hypothermia after a dangerous mission. Kaz helps her warm up by the fire, their bond growing stronger.

warnings: The story contains scenes of peril, violence, and life-threatening situations. Kaz is not fully ok with y/n’s touch, but he fights trough it. Ooc Kaz.

notes: Posting this again because it won’t show up in the #

On a moonlit night, the crew moved stealthily towards their next heist, anticipation electrifying the air. The target: the elusive Heart of Nebula, a gem said to hold secrets from the stars themselves, and worth even more, now resting within the hold of a formidable merchant ship. Kaz Brekker's mind hummed with strategies as he and his crew prepared to infiltrate the vessel, a symphony of darkness and cunning.

The assault began with a fierce volley of blows and flashing knives, the Crows expertly weaving through the chaos of the guards. Amidst the clash of metal and cries of alarm, Y/N's prowess shone bright as she fought with a grace that belied her strength. But in the midst of the turmoil, the situation took a turn.

One of the guards managed to corner Y/N, his arm snaking around her neck while a cold barrel pressed against her temple. The edge of the ship loomed dangerously close, its abyssal depths waiting hungrily. Kaz's icy eyes snapped toward the scene, his cane slicing through the guard before him with lethal precision. Without hesitation, he moved toward the guard who held Y/N captive.

The guard's voice rang out, its venomous tone laced with desperation. "Make them leave, Brekker, or the girl takes a plunge."

Kaz's gaze was as unforgiving as the sea's depths as he assessed the situation. A subtle nod towards his crew was met with hesitation, a collective tension palpable in the air. Yet, the Crows trusted their leader's decision and reluctantly retreated, fading into the shadows like wraiths.

With the other Crows gone, Kaz approached the edge of the ship, his voice a chilling breeze. "They're gone. Let her go now."

The guard's laughter was mirthless, his grip on Y/N relenting just enough for her to catch her breath. "You're quite the strategist, Brekker. But this time, you've lost." Kaz's eyes darkened, "You're the one holding the losing hand."

The guard's response was a cold, harsh warning. "One step closer, and I'll blow her brains out, Brekker."

In the deadly hush that followed, Y/N's eyes flickered to Kaz's, a subtle nod passing between them like a secret shared only between souls deeply connected. In the space of a heartbeat, Y/N's hidden blade flashed into her hand, finding purchase in the guard's leg. The gun wavered, and in that instant, Y/N twisted her body, pushing the gun skyward. The guard's grip slipped, and Y/N tumbled over the edge, disappearing into the inky depths below.

Kaz's gloved hand tightened on his cane as he stared at the fallen guard, fury simmering beneath his calm façade. With a swift, efficient motion, he rendered the guard unconscious, the cold weight of his cane delivering justice.

Breathless seconds ticked by, tension thick in the salty air. Kaz's sharp gaze scanned the dark waters, searching for any sign of Y/N. Relief flooded him as her head broke the surface, her voice piercing through the night. "I'm fine!" A sigh of relief escaped Kaz's lips. Y/N's determination was palpable as she called out, her voice carrying above the water's gentle lapping. "I'll swim to shore. Go ahead."

Kaz watched as she began to swim, her strokes strong and determined. With a final glance at the ship, he turned and walked away, his steps resolute and measured.

As Kaz reached the shore, he cast his gaze over the moonlit waters, waiting anxiously for Y/N’s return. His heart was a relentless drumbeat, matching the rhythm of the waves. The moment her form emerged from the darkness, shivering and weakened, he closed the distance between them. Urgency propelled his actions.

“Get rid of the clothes,” he instructed firmly, his voice laced with concern. “They’re wet and will make you colder.”

Y/N’s nod was slow, her trembling fingers fumbling with the soaked fabric as she undressed. Kaz turned his head, a gesture both respectful and protective. In a deliberate and almost rehearsed motion, he removed his coat and held it out to her. She accepted it with a shaky “Thanks.” her voice barely above a whisper.

As Kaz’s sharp eyes examined her, a surge of worry pulsed through him. The sight of her pale, chilled skin and lips tinged with blue sent an unexpected pang through his chest, a haunting echo of memories long buried. But he shoved those ghosts aside, focusing on the task at hand. Y/N needed him now.

“Y/N,” he heard her voice, fragile and wavering like a whispered plea. “We have to get you somewhere warm.”

Nodding at her, he guided her towards the Slat, their steps slow and deliberate. But soon, it became apparent that her strength was waning, her movements faltering as her eyes fought to stay open. Kaz’s instincts kicked in, and he brought them to a nearby safe house. “Stay awake, Y/N,” he urged, his voice a lifeline.

With the gentlest touch, he grasped her sleeve, guiding her with utmost care. Inside the safe house, the dim glow of the fireplace greeted them. Kaz moved with practiced efficiency, gathering wood and coaxing flames to life. “Take the coat off,” he instructed softly. “I’ll get you blankets.”

Y/N’s trembling grew more pronounced. Her weakened state made even the simple act of unbuttoning her coat a struggle, her shivering fingers fumbling with each button. Kaz watched for a moment, concern etched on his face, before taking a step forward.

“May I?” he asked, his voice low and filled with a rare tenderness, pointing towards the buttons. Y/N’s eyes fluttered open, her gaze meeting his as she nodded slightly. A barely audible “Please” slipped from her lips as he delicately unbuttoned her coat. His movements were careful, his touch a lifeline, as he worked the coat off her shoulders.

He noticed Y/N’s weakened posture, her struggle to remain upright, and her eyes that threatened to close for longer with each blink. A gentle tap to her cheek accompanied his soft words, urging her to stay awake. Once the coat was removed, he set it aside, then settled Y/N close to the warmth of the fireplace.

Debates waged within his mind as he assessed the situation. Should he fetch a blanket or offer his own warmth to stave off the cold? Y/N’s sudden cessation of shivering tilted the balance, a sign that he couldn’t ignore. He quickly discarded his clothes, his urgency matched only by his fear. Ghosts of his past slowly attacking his mind. But that fear was replaced with a resolute determination as he reminded himself that he had to help her. For fuck’s sake. She’s dying, do something!

“Y/N,” he called softly, his voice a lifeline in the quiet room. He moved swiftly to her side, his heart pounding with a mix of trepidation and purpose. He hesitated for a moment, the depth of his feelings surfacing before he banished them, replacing them with a driving need to save her.

“Y/N, look at me,” he whispered urgently, his hands cupping her face gently. The storm in his eyes met the battle in hers, a silent affirmation that they were in this together. “Stay awake, Y/N.”

With quick, precise movements, he guided her closer, his arms enfolding her delicate form. He drew her legs over his lap, holding her securely, a barrier against the cold that threatened to steal her away. His heart raced as he whispered her name, a litany of small pleas and encouragements, willing her to hold on.

His hands moved over her body, a desperate attempt to generate warmth. His touch was gentle yet purposeful, rubbing and caressing in a rhythm meant to bring life back to her numbing limbs. A sigh of relief escaped him as her body began to respond, her shivers returning.

“That’s good, Y/N,” he murmured, his voice a mixture of relief and reassurance. “That’s good.”

Y/N’s voice trembled, her weariness evident as she spoke of her desire to rest, if only for a moment. Kaz’s response was a gentle yet unwavering plea. “Hold on a little longer, Y/N. You’re doing good.”

As the warmth of the fire seeped into the room, color began to return to Y/N’s face, a welcome transformation that Kaz couldn’t help but watch with a mixture of relief and gratitude. Her lips, once tinged with blue, regained their natural hue, easing the knot of worry in his chest. He assessed her carefully, the weight of his concern slowly lifting as she regained strength.

Gradually, he eased her down, his touch gentle as he ensured she was comfortable before he rose to his feet. “I’m going to get you some blankets, Y/N,” he announced, his voice soft. Y/N met his gaze and thanked him, her gratitude a quiet melody in the stillness of the room.

Kaz put his pants back on before he climbed the stairs, his steps measured, his mind focused on the task at hand. In the closet, he found a collection of blankets, each one a comforting refuge against the cold. When he returned to the room, he laid one blanket on the ground for Y/N to sit on, then carefully wrapped a second one around her, his movements deliberate yet tender.

Settling back down beside her, Kaz draped the third blanket around himself, creating a barrier of warmth between them. The room was filled with a palpable sense of quiet, an unspoken understanding that permeated the space. Moments stretched on, the fire’s crackle and pop providing a gentle rhythm to their thoughts.

Y/N, who looked remarkably better now, broke the silence with words that carried a depth of meaning. “Thank you, Kaz.” Her voice was soft yet sincere.

Kaz’s response was equally quiet, his tone carrying a hint of vulnerability. “No problem.”

Y/N glanced away briefly before turning her gaze back to him, her eyes holding a mixture of gratitude and something more. “I’m sorry you had to do that,” she said, her words holding a weight that was both apologetic and appreciative. “I know it must’ve been hard.”

Kaz’s mind churned, reflecting on the moments they had shared, the emotions that had surged through him. He hesitated, grappling with his own thoughts before the words emerged, honest and unfiltered. “For you, I would do it again,” he admitted, his voice a gentle affirmation of his feelings.

In response, Y/N’s smile was soft, her eyes reflecting a warmth that mirrored the fire’s glow. “I would do it for you too, Kaz. Anything.” Her words held an earnestness that touched him, a willingness to stand by him no matter the challenge.

[wolven91]

thinking about a watchmaker in your universe. someone who's job was to repair small, extremely intricate devices that are redundant in space. i mean, why would you spend so much time and effort finding and fixing a watch when an ai can do it without having to be wound every couple weeks and fixed every couple months? even if you do want a watch you can just get a digital one that has more functions and is more durable at a fraction of the price and effort.

so they change jobs. maybe to a more useful one that still uses their skills in manipulating small, intricate parts. maybe repairing and replacing the small chips and processors in those very same electronics that replaced those mechanical watches they love so much.

their job pays very well, and eventually they save up quite a bit of money. they're constantly checking all sorts of places, both legal and illegal, for anything from earth. when suddenly they find it. a collection of old and "new" earth watches. most of them are broken or damaged, but with a reference now they can start making new parts. they start selling the refurbished watches to earth collectors, and they eventually make enough to start their own small business making brand new designs. it doesn't make a ton of money, but they can finally return to the thing they love, making and fixing watches.

Time Flys

Edward sighed quietly as he sat on the raised balcony, overlooking the promenade. The general buzz of the hustle and bustle was too far below him to be of bother to the human. 

It was a nice view, the end of the street opened up into the park area where rolling hills and artificial waterfalls gave an idealist appearance. Glancing up, he could see the edge of the Mar'Tor's Vow nebula slowly moving over head through the great glass dome.

The old man ached for home and sighed again.

He was getting on in his years now and he was struck with a wave of nostalgia. How he wished he could see Orion's belt from the place he remembered it from. He didn't want to *go* see Orion's Belt, he wanted to see it as he remembered it. Clear as a bell, the three bright dots that sat in the centre of a familiar constellation. His chest hurt from the memory.

"Hey Old Dog." Rumbled a firm voice from behind him, causing his heart to jump just a little. Quiet little blighter.

"Morning Young Pup." Edward growled back with a smirk on his face. The human leaned back in his chair and let his head roll to the side as the canid stalked around the seat to plonk herself down on the chair to his side.

"You're early for your ass wuppin'?" Edward teased, referencing how Snarlp had yet to beat him at Chess since he had taught her the rules. The canid solider wasn't dumb, she had even taught him a few things about bold tactics and how it was indeed possible to punch through a strong defence to put a king on the backfoot, but the canid had yet to figure out subtle tactics.

"I *will* beat you old timer. You've been winning by the fur on your nose these last few games... But... No, that can wait. I got something you might like." The youthful creature grumbled back, her firm tone like gravel in a blender. She wasn't aggressive with Edwards, well she was, but not physically. She was challenging him for his 'place' in the friendship between the two of them. Just as Edward liked it.

Honestly, it was just good fun for him, definitely kept his mind sharp. It felt like he was a captain of a pirate ship; the moment he let his guard down one of his 'salty dogs' would bloodily tear control of his ship from him; it was life and death that he kept his wits. Edwards sighed and smiled, all metaphorically of cause. Snarlp would see her arm torn off before she laid a single claw on the human, Edward knew this.

"You know I'm not interested in that VR nonsense. It was fad before and it's a fad now." He dismissed, more alarmed that Snarlp could be back on the track of trying to have Edward 'try new things'. Edward was happy in his rut. He didn't *like* the new things.

As a human, Edward was old fashioned. Back home, he'd been a watch maker. He could recall off the top of his head how to pull apart and putback together any number of models of watch. At night, to get to sleep, he would mentally repair or build watches for himself.

But alas, amongst the stars, there was no need or desire for mechanical watches. The aliens all wanted digital, with bells and whistles that no clockwork watch could match. Not to mention that Edward couldn't get the printer to work the way he wanted. He needed a scan of some kind. Snarlp had been the one to explain it to him which had broken his heart somewhat. Still, she'd meant well, and it just solidified that his generation, the first off planet, were the last humans that remembered Earth as it was. They were dying out.

"It's not 'Virtual Reality' Old Dog, it's Simulated Environments, and *no*, I'm not showing you something new. I know it'll have your heart attack you or something." The canid growled as she picked up the pitcher of water that sat on the table between them, causing the ice and strange purple fruit that floated in it to 'clink' against the glass. Edward watched her as she sniffed at it, sneered, then downed a large gulpful, straight from the pitcher. There goes having another glass of that any time soon.

Well... He'd need to go get another one anyway.

"It better be nearby. It's forty-two steps to the toilet and that's a 'tactical' decision for me these days. I ain't going on an adventure." Edward warned. The walking stick next to his chair alleviated the pains in his hips, but it still hurt something rotten. He had sworn the canid to secrecy once she had figured out that he was in agony when he walked. Edward wasn't about to let no scientist near him again. He'd let them sire countless bastards from his genetics once already and he wasn't about to let them do it a second time.

Poor things didn't even know he was their father.

"Good thing I brought it here then, isn't it?" Snarlp replied, bouncing up and out of the chair with the energy of a creature that had yet to wake up four times in one night.

"But you couldn't bring it out here?" Edward questioned, tilting his head, and narrowing his eyes.

"By the *moons* do you want your surprise or not?!" Snarlp snapped. Putting her hands on her hips and leaning forward with a glare. Despite being decades younger than him, the aura she had was of Edward's disapproving mother. The tone still made his blood run cold.

"Ugh, fine. You're getting me one of those 'bear wraps' if this isn't worth it." Edwards grumbled as he leant forward and snatched up his stick in a huff. Snarlp stepped forward and ignored the slap across her hands from Edwards as he tried to bat her away. She persisted in helping and he was grateful. Her strength was mighty, pulling him up as if he were no more than a small bag of spuds, yet she was gentle enough that not even her razor-sharp claws broke the man's thin paper-like skin.

"Firstly, it's worth it. Secondly, you *know* you're not allowed the ursidain food anymore. It'll... it's not good for you." Snarlp retorted as Edward found his feet and began to shuffle towards the building, warming up his limbs again so he could move with purpose. They both ignored the genuine tone of fear in her words.

"Bah. You sound like that fool of a guardian." He dismissed, referencing the diminutive taurian the government had assigned him. Edward had no time for that wet blanket. Everything was sniffles and 'eh hem' before the little bull spoke. It drove Edward up the wall.

"Yeah well, they've basically made me your guardian now." Snarlp admitted, much to Edwards shock, but secret elation.

"Now I *know* they want me to keel over. You might win a game then as well." He jabbed, grinning as they got to the door into the apartment.

"I could just throw you over that balcony you know?"Snarlp suggested, briefly thrusting a thumb back the way they came. Edward just chuckled while Snarlp grinned a mouth full of sharp teeth.

The pair entered Edward's apartment and in the centre was his dining table. A huge monstrosity, but necessary in the event an ursidain came to dinner. On top of the giant table however was something new. A massive metal crate. It looked like a chest, oblong in shape with a hinged lid. The red light over the lock on one side showed that it was currently sealed.

"I knew it. You don't see old folk around here because you liquidise them!" Edward hollered, trying to pull his arm from the canid's grip while staring at the box that could hold him within with ease. He didn't actually believe that, but had joked with Snarlp that, that was what they did with people who got too old and just mixed them into the food.

"Will you shut it; you stale fart! *You* don't see old people because *they* are smart and move to paradise worlds! Nobody would want you but me anyway! Now, sit down and let me open this thing!" Snarlp ordered, easily handling his little outburst and guided him to the head of the table. To be fair to the young canid, she had always had him sit in a chair of importance or priority.

He settled and eyed the box, unsure what she was about to spring on him. Snarlp ignored Edward for the moment and placed her thumb against the biometrics. The man paid attention to what was on the side of the crate, a stencilled version of the Galactic Community Administration office emblem. This crate was their property, something they loathed to give up. Edward eyed it wearily.

"I saw this going very differently, do you know how hard it was to convince them to give me this? I expected you to be like a pup getting into their first bit of trouble."

"Can you blame me? You've stuck me into firefights before!"

"In a simulated environment! You were perfectly safe."

"I got shot!"

"You should have kept your head down instead of shouting at me, not my fault a separatist sniper got you."

The lock clicked, silencing them both and the crate hissed as the lid popped open a fraction. Hermetically sealed? Whatever was inside had been sat in stasis. Snarlp lifted the lid and carefully made sure it didn't damage the table once it was fully open. From Edward's position, he couldn't see what was inside, but Snarlp reached in and gently, so gently that Edward had never seen her move with such care, plucked an item from within.

At first, the old man didn't know what he was looking at, so cradled as it was in her palms as she brought it to Edward. But as she carefully placed it on the polished table in front of him, he was struck with understanding.

The man's heartbeat in his chest at a pace not felt since he was 'shot'.

It was a small, cheap, watch.

With shaking hands, he picked it up and turned it over, to inspect the clock face. The second hand ticked by the battery life saved thanks to the stasis. According to the hands, it was 10:32.

While he was merely staring at the device, shocked to his core for seeing such an old artifact of Earth, a second one was placed in front of him by Snarlp, who merely reached for a third out of the box.

Edward stood sharply, sending the chair toppling off the raised platform that meant Edward could sit at the table at the same height as any guest. Snarlp's head whipped round but froze, her hand inches above the crate, holding a digital watch. It showed 12:32 AM.

"How many..." Edward began, unable to ask.

"Loads. It's what intake collected from whoever was rescued." The canid replied softly, aware of the significance.

"What?"

"When you humans were rescued, there wasn't really a plan. Intake was messy. Some counters collected personal items, some didn't. This box is full of those timekeepers you were on about." She explained, plucking two more from the box. It was full to the brim with watches. Just watches.

"H-how... I thought they'd all be...?"

"Sold? Yeah, most human stuff was. But this crate was labelled wrong. They think it was because whoever labelled it was going to sell it on, but chances were they were arrested before they got a chance." The canid knocked a knuckle against the foreign text on the side, next to the stencil. "Storage folk saw the label, did their job correctly and bam. A veritable Lithium Mine left to gather dust."

"I take it we can't keep these." Edward asked, turning over the first watch in his hands. Cheap, but now priceless. It did its job nearly forty years later, ticking away.

"We can't no." Snarlp agreed, and Edward's heart fell. "You can though." She finished, deliberately taking a second to complete her sentence. Edward snapped his head back up at the now grinning canid.

"You're a cruel bitch! What are you saying?!"

"These are yours now. Government can't sell them and returning human artifacts to a human is a easy win in the PR department."

Edward had to brush his sleeve against the corners of his eyes whilst sniffing, but the canid didn't jab him for his display.

"Saying they're yours... You could... scan one?" Snarlp suggested. "I can think of more than a few people on this station alone that would want a mechanical watch. You could teach me to repair them too... You said you would..."

Edward sighed and smiled, he felt like he had a purpose again.

"They're not anything fancy... you can't get VR from them like your consoles."

"Oh my *moons*!! It's not 'VR' and you can't get SE from *just* a console!"

[myrablurple]

I'm getting really close to finishing these color palettes so here's the second to last group of them! We have Commander Nebula and I'm still salty I had to draw Klerm in these 😤 And the rest are a mixture of friends and a moot's oc!

Iona belongs to @sweetywreck

Blaze belongs to @silentspacenstuff

Elephantine belongs to @herbalwolves

[ackerfics]

FAMILY LINE — a house of the dragon fanfiction | aegon ii targaryen x oc

act one, chapter one: aesira and aether, aether and aesira (wc: 5.2k) | masterlist

ACT ONE: nigredo

— primordial matter births the beginning of a magnum opus. the threads of the greatest misery is woven into a beautiful existence rising in a sky of a thousand bursting nebulae. the darkening of her soul will never put a stopper on the divinity flowing in her veins, dim the glow of her cheeks kissed by the gods, nor snuff out the constellation illuminating with each step she makes. for this is how a relic reaches its zenith; there would be no story unless the heroine crawls on bloodied elbows and weeps out tears enough to nourish the realm.

112 AC

Aegon didn’t know he had cousins from Father’s side of the family until the funeral of the Siren of the Vale.

Strangers are everywhere and all he could do was hold onto Mother’s skirt with one of his hands while his younger siblings cling with both of their arms as if Mother is going to disappear with the mummified body in front of the people. Helaena is crying, squeezing her eyes shut and her mouth murmuring nonsensical things that Aegon doesn't pay any attention to on a given day. They’re probably weird statements about the spine-crawling insects she’s starting to show interest in — Aegon doesn’t need to hear that, thank you very much. Aemond, his youngest sibling, turns away from the sad sight and presses his face on the crook of Mother’s neck. Aegon can see that the action causes her discomfort, with her belly round with another sibling, yet she runs a gentle hand over the back of Aemond’s blond head in an attempt to prevent his cries from surfacing through the silence of the burning ceremony. The oldest of the family looks away and instead focuses on the Septon conducting the final farewells to the once enchanting Aellara Targaryen.

He’s never met her but just like Father’s first wife, she surrenders to the flames as is any member of the Targaryen bloodline.

Once the Septon finishes his preachings, a cry rings out in the crisp salty air of Dragonstone, the final place to witness the glory of the honoured deceased. Heads turn and almost immediately, a look of sympathy and pity washes over their faces.

At the centre of the babe’s wails isn’t Aegon’s younger brother. The little boy is too old to cry without any reason. The source of the cries comes from a newborn babe protected in a black swaddle lined with embroideries of little birds clutched against a girl’s chest, a girl only at the same age as Aegon. Beside her is another boy of their age weeping with shaking shoulders, tiny fists furiously rubbing his eyes and leaving behind messy tear tracks and red-rimmed skin.

Mother gasps a hitched breath. “Oh, gods.”

Aegon looks back and forth between Mother and the children, two of which have tears streaming down their faces in a never-ending spectacle while the girl only stares at the mummified body with burning eyes that are likely to shed tears at any moment. She keeps bouncing the babe in her arms but it wasn’t enough to quell his shrieks. Despite that, Aegon finds her pretty, which isn’t the most appropriate thought for the severity of the ceremony. So, he looks away from blatantly admiring the girl’s aesthetics. The babe is crying for his mother. The boy of five name days is also crying for his mother. Aegon is left wondering why the girl isn’t doing the same. He glances at her again from behind Mother’s skirts, trying to imagine the smiles that could light up her face. He thinks they would be no doubt the most radiant thing he’ll ever see. Aegon was told snippets of the children’s mother, how she is—was—the most beautiful woman in the realm, and thousands of ballads dedicated even at her passing. Surely the woman’s beauty will live on in her daughter.

Teary lilac irises framed with curling, pale eyelashes arrest his cornflower ones, fully making him look away with burning cheeks.

“Where is their father?”

“The Rogue Prince?”

Little Aegon’s ears perk at the title.

His uncle is built from the Smith’s mould of the Warrior. He’s only seen the man a couple of times growing up. With the way he walks, Aegon instantly wants to be like him. The confidence and smugness oozed in waves with every step — he dreams of stomping the bricks of the Red Keep with those. But Mother doesn’t have any good things to say about him. He always hears her grumbling to Father about his atrocities, and how it affects and dishonours his lady wife. Aegon’s little stomps stopped right after overhearing Mother’s words. Guilt seeps into his little body. He doesn’t want to become someone that ignited this much reaction from the members of his family, especially Mother.

“He’s not even with his children. Poor things. It’s like he holds no heart. Look at how they’re shedding their tears.”

True enough, Daemon Targaryen is standing at the back of the small gathering. Aegon inconspicuously tilts his head to look at his once idol. The man looks nothing like the dashing prince the men and women of the court are either fawning over or fearing. There are no tear tracks like his sons nor the devastated look possessed by his daughter. Aegon’s uncle stares at the body with eyes rivalling that of the souls crying for salvation. His eyes hold nothing of the fiery glint of mischief he always carries while sauntering in the Red Keep. The usual manic grin tugging at his lips is reduced to a flat line, almost a frown. As Aegon looks closer, he can discern a sheen of cloudy mist covering the limbal rings of his lilac eyes. What is his uncle seeing?

“It’s time for the cremation.”

The responsibility lies with the husband. The Blood Wyrm is trilling right at the top of the hill with two dragons the size of a house and a little one that looked like it just emerged from its egg, most probably those of the children. (Aegon feels the rising jealousy at how their dragon eggs hatched; his egg turned stone cold after his third name day.) Even with the snake-like dragon emitting noises for his bonded, Daemon makes no move to remove himself from his perch, his hands tightly grasping each other in front of him. The clicking in the blood-red dragon’s long neck increased in volume as the silence stretched. (Aegon heard stories of how dragons resonate with their riders’ pain after having bonded so deeply. Father told him that Daemon’s bond with Caraxes is one for the history tomes. Maybe Caraxes wants to end this suffering sooner than later.) With the husband indisposed despite his presence in the funeral ceremony, the Septon turns to the children with a troubled visage.

“Young Lord Aether, as the heir of Aellara Targaryen’s bloodline, it is with heartfelt humility that we request for you to initiate the cremation.”

Aether, the boy’s name, tenses at the statement.

Aegon feels Mother’s hand on his shoulder.

“Take your time to collect yourself, my Lord.”

The girl takes one hand from their swaddled younger sibling’s head and intertwines it with her twin brother’s. Aether blinks at the contact and meets the girl’s gaze. He crumbles, it appears that another sob is bubbling in his throat. Aegon presses himself deeper into Mother’s skirts. He can hear Helaena whimpering from Mother’s other side. The eldest son of The Peaceful King continues watching the lonely twins. He takes in every tremble in the boy’s shoulders and the wordless looks coming from the girl. It must be extraordinary to have someone share a soul with you in the womb; having to communicate with mere thoughts is a feat in itself. 

Finally, Aether separates himself from his sister. Little steps start the cremation. One of the smaller dragons at the hilltop stands straighter than before. The red of the scales only glints once the sunlight perfectly hits the beautiful creature at the right angle. Just like his bonded, the dragon stalks with small, pounding steps until it stands at the bottom of the hill. At the same age as the little boy, its wings cover the entirety of the people attending the ceremony, encompassing everyone under the shade of its protection. It waits for the command. Aether lets out another cry, his hiccups wrenching the hearts of many, even Aegon’s. The dragon leans forward at the sound of its bonded’s weeps.

“Dr—” Another sob. Fast-paced breathing.

“Aether,” the girl calls out in a wobbly voice, trying to calm down a restless babe in her arms. 

“I-I can’t do it, Aesira,” he replies while rubbing his eyes.

Aesira.

The Septon intervenes. “My Lord.”

“I-I don’t want to do it.”

“You have to, my Lord.”

Aether cries out. Now, both of his fists cover his eyes.

Aegon sees Father shedding a couple of tears.

“Everything’s going to be alright, Aether,” Aesira’s voice is tiny but it carries through.

At his sister’s words, he takes a deep breath. “Dra—” Aether makes eye contact with the gold-flecked emerald eyes of his dragon. Maybe Aegon is imagining it but the dragon tilts his head down as a form of encouragement for the young boy. “Achilles,” the creature of legend stretches its neck to the heavens, mirroring its bonded, who lifts his chin in the air, “Dracarys!”

And to fire Aellara Targaryen succumbs to.

From ashes we were moulded, to ashes we will return.

“The wild will find itself in the jaws of the beast it created. First delight against first delight. From within, the three-headed dragon sprouts from a bud.”

“Will you stop doing that?” Aegon snaps, nearly breaking the writing tool he has in his hand as he looks up from writing basic words to fix a horrified look on his sister.

The third child of the King blinks away the stupor that clouds her eyes. Her fingers are twitching on the tabletop, the army of ants bringing crumbs of honey cake going around her still appendages. Helaena is always doing that — being creepy and staring at something for too long. Aegon caught her looking through him but most likely never seeing him at the same time for she was too busy mumbling things under her breath like the witches he read from the fairy tale books in the royal library. It never fails to drop a chill down his spine. It doesn’t help that she appears to mirror the dolls she receives from the court ladies for her name days; with those wide, soulless eyes of glassy blue and clothes elaborate, pieces of thick material sewn together to accentuate the ruffles and gems. So, while Aegon wears disdain clear on his face, Helaena simply stares and stares, huffs for a moment, and goes back to guiding the ants to their destination and giving them more honey cake crumbs. 

What an oddball.

Days spent learning lessons with Helaena are always bathed in silence. Or heavy murmurs coming from his sister. Yet both of them have certain quirks that will make their Septa place a hand on her forehead. Aegon is too restless. Helaena is too out of it. Both of them never finish their work for the day, so it keeps piling up on the tabletop of the study. Today is the same as always. Except that there is the prospect of The Keep accepting three permanent residents at the end of the moon.

One moon after the funeral of The Rogue Prince’s lady wife, the question as to where the children should be warded is brought into the light. Apparently, Prince Daemon Targaryen disappeared without any note, only leaving on dragonback and leaving behind large prints on the ground. The children aren’t orphans but in all rights, with a dead mother and an absent father, they are considered as such.

Mother expresses her worry each time she visits the nursery, exchanging hushed whispers with her handmaidens. They were children, she says with brown eyes that carry too much emotion for a Queen. Father, on the other hand, asks Aegon and Helaena, Aemond being too young to understand, if they would ever like it if there are more children for them to play with. Aegon thought that there are more than enough children for him to share his dragon figures with; Mother is pregnant with his youngest sibling after all. Father dismisses that with a light laugh that Aegon has never seen. Your cousins need a home, he says with a reminiscent sheen covering his words, they’re children born from the sister of someone I will always hold dear. This dearest someone is the beautiful blonde woman enclosed in four gilded frames at the atelier of the castle. Her portrait is the most extravagant among the rest and it glows right when the streams of light hits it perfectly.

To preserve the memory of King Viserys’s first wife, The Red Keep is open to welcoming her niece and nephews, never to be sent to the jaded regions of the Vale.

“Do you think they’re going to play with us?” Aegon asks with his eyes set on the letters of the common language he was assigned to follow. He hears Helaena whisper something in the wind. “What was that?”

Like somebody catches her sneaking her hand in a jar of newly baked treats, Helaena stops. She keeps his gaze on the table, following the scuttling of the ants. “I hope she likes ants”

Aegon knits his eyebrows. “The girl?”

Helaena nods.

He then laughs. “What girl would like insects?”

His younger sister purses her lips. “A friend.”

“Well, that’s boring. And gross. And weird.”

Helaena keeps quiet before continuing her little conversations with the ants.

The scribbling of a writing tool against the stiffness of the paper fills in the silence. Until his sister once again opens her mouth in a dreamy drone for a child of four name days, “Hearts are cradled within the palms of the abandoned.”

She’s holding the babe close to her chest again.

Aegon stands beside Mother’s seated form in the nursery, her hands once again seeking solace on the swell of her belly. He remains the only child that has to be present while the others toddle with the wetnurses. But that doesn’t stop him from being restless. Aegon keeps on fidgeting in his spot, only stopping when Mother slightly pinches the skin of his upper arm in an effort to make him as still as a five name day old boy can be. The jut in his lower lip is apparent as he looks at the children of the same age as him. The both of them are a little shorter than him but for some reason, little Aegon doesn’t have the heart to meet their eyes. This is not the time for you to be shy, Mother tried telling him moments before the handmaidens escorted the new residents to the nursery, where they will be settling in since they’re not at an age where an entire bedchamber is given to them. Aegon spots new mattresses on the floor and another crib for the babe.

“Hello, young ones,” Mother greets them with a good-natured smile.

“Your Grace.” The girl crosses her ankles and curtsies in a grace that puts dancers to shame. She notices her brother not paying any respect to the monarch sitting in front of them, so she nudges him at the side, eliciting a loud groan from him. The boy bows down with one arm on his heart and the other behind his back, but not before glaring at his sister at the corners of his eyes.

“Your Grace,” the boy mumbles, which earns him another dirty look from the girl carrying the babe.

Mother’s smile slightly grows at their manners. It pleases her. They straighten when she waves a hand. It’s an action that showcases Mother being a Queen in every way. Aegon doesn’t like it. It means she’s dismissing him away. “Aesira and Aether, am I correct?” The both of them nod. “I hope your visit to the King comes out fruitful.”

Aether nods while Aesira adjusts their little brother in her arms. She’s the one who answers Mother. “Uncle is a kind man. We deeply apologise for making you wait, Your Grace; he showed us a beautiful model of Valyria and we exchanged stories that took up most of the time.”

“How do you like the model?”

A spark lights up Aesira’s eyes. Her shoulders lift in purely concealed enthusiasm. Her brother snorts a little before painting a smile on his lips like he finds this sight a constant in his life yet it never fails to amuse him. “I find it intriguing, Your Grace. It’s a subject I will always find myself drawn to.” She looks down at the small tuft of hair peeking through her brother’s swaddle. She carefully tucks it in, making the babe squirm and nuzzle into the crook of her neck, his tiny hands gripping the material of her dress. “The model must have taken so long to assemble. I notice it’s not even finished yet.”

Mother nods. “When I first saw it myself, I thought it was a marvel that the King’s passion radiated from. You can ask one of the Maesters to lend you more books about it.” She then fixes her attention on the silent Aether beside Aesira. “What about you, little Lord? Has anything captured your interest? Is it not the model?”

“None yet,” he answers. Aesira once again nudges him. “Your Grace.”

“This is my eldest son, Aegon,” Mother says with something inside her throat, right at the word son. She gestures for him and he takes it as a cue to stand a little closer to her and the pair. Her hands are flat on his shoulders. Aegon prevents himself from squeaking at the weight of them. “He’s eager to have new playmates.” Mother then looks down at him, her brown eyes reflecting his wide-eyed stare. “Aegon, won’t you show him your toys? I’m sure he’s going to find joy in them the same way you do.”

Aegon wants to cry. In the years that he remembers, he has always shared things with others. No moment was purely dedicated to him that was tickling his brain. He counted himself as lucky when Helaena was born because that would mean his toy dragons and soldiers were still his. Those crumbled when Aemond followed two years after his sister. Now, he doesn’t have anything left because if you’re the eldest child, you don’t exactly have a constant thing in your possession. The attention that wasn’t already on him was taken away. Mother never looked at him twice again with two siblings in tow (with a third coming around any moon now), fighting for her appreciation and Father’s glances. With three new children running around the Keep, getting both of those is merely a far-fetched dream. How can he compete with more people who look like the pretty portrait in the atelier?

It takes him longer to answer, the hands on his shoulders weighed more than he can fathom. “Yes, Mother.”

The answer satisfies Mother for the smile on her face is something he sees for the first time. There’s pride mingled in the small pools of her irises, glinting ever so slightly that Aegon finds himself awe in. He wants to be at the other end of that look. It makes him feel like he has done something right at such a young age. 

“Now, I will leave you children be. I will retire in my chambers until we sup. Aegon,” she calls out. The little boy can’t hide his pout. “Be nice.”

There are no pats on the hand, no caresses of a mother’s touch in between his hair, and there is definitely no trace of that prideful look Aegon caught a glimpse of. With the flutter that of a butterfly, Mother exits the room, bringing along with her the train of her red day gown. Aegon remains staring at the door, not knowing what to do next but fiddle with his fingers, he’s taken out of his stupor by someone clearing their throat. It’s a high-pitched sound that has him nearly jumping out of his skin. He turns around and finds himself in the centre of an expectant gaze.

“Your mother told us to play,” Aether supplies, with eyes void of any emotion except expectancy. He’s staring at Aegon the way Helaena does it. It jolts him and he nearly shouts for the boy to stop doing that if not for Aesira interrupting.

“Aether, don’t be so disrespectful,” she lightly scolds. “This is not our home. We’re only guests.”

“This is our new home, Sira,” Aether rebuts. “And I want to see if his toys are better than my old ones back in Dragonstone.” Like it’s more of a priority than anything.

Aegon takes a step forward. “I have wooden dragons that we can play with.”

Aether’s eyes narrow. “What dragons?”

“Balerion, Vhagar, and Meraxes. Though Aemond took Vhagar and he’s never returned it since,” he scrunches his face as if the idea of his wooden dragons being stolen is a rancid thought. Aegon never forgets to throw a dirty look at the young babe sleeping in the older cribs of the nursery. In between Aemond’s pudgy hands is Aegon’s Vhagar. He’s long since given up on taking it from his little brother, seeing firsthand how strong a babe’s grip can be. Plus, his cries are not the sweetest to listen to either — they’re piercing and if possible, can shatter even the thickest of glass. After his attempt at taking it back, Aegon experiences Mother’s anger that nearly made him cry as well. So, now Vhagar is Aemond’s and the other two are left within Aegon’s toy chest, wherein the contents have significantly dwindled through the years. “Don’t bother taking it from him; he can be a bit of a banshee.”

They’re like gems — Aether’s eyes. Aegon has only ever seen such a colour on a lady’s neck, encrusted with the finest of glittering gold, and ears where they are dangling for their lives. They glow under the dim light of the nursery and Aegon doesn’t know what to feel about it. It is reminiscent of how his uncle Daemon stares at the things he finds interesting during his visits to the Keep (before he was exiled, again, as told by Mother when he asked about Daemon’s whereabouts). A little half-smile tugs on Aether’s lips, almost elfish in a way that it’s full of mischief.

“I want Balerion then.”

Aegon feels his world crumble.

“Aether,” a soft voice nags.

He finds himself staring at the pretty girl carrying the babe. Aesira has her eyebrows in a downturned arch, her lips mouthing that she’s sorry for her brother.

“What?” The younger blond boy swivels to his sister. “We’re guests, as you say, right? I think Mother told us back then that guests always have to be attended to by the hosts. Aegon,” he waves at him, “is clearly the host.”

“Mother also told us to be decent and mindful.” Aesira stops glaring at her brother and softens her entire face to make Aegon feel better. “Do you want him to take Balerion from you, my Prince?”

Aegon’s face burns at the undivided attention given to him by the girl. While the violet of Aether’s eyes is startling, all wildfire without calm, Aesira’s is a soft lilac, the serenity upon contact. His little heart pounds away in his chest. The squeezes are enough for him to twist his face in a grimace and one of his hands to cover the area above the racing organ. The sensation spreads from his heart to every part of his body until it reaches his eyes, altering his vision to see this girl in a different light. She’s all sunrays and stardust — so bright that little Aegon has no problem being blind.

“No,” Aegon answers her question after a few minutes of stalling (staring).

“Stop looking at me like that, Sira.”

Aesira giggles. It’s a sound akin to a choir of seraphs. “I think Balerion suits Prince Aegon quite well.”

Aether fixes him with a disbelieving expression. Aegon holds himself so that he won’t squirm because Aether shares the same judgmental mask on Mother when she’s not satisfied with his appearance; always fussing about how his vest doesn’t match with his eyes or how his hair seems unruly to be called neat. It’s akin to being cut open and being spectated. The younger boy shrugs, making a sound at the back of his throat that Aegon likens to a goat. Aether, the dragon’s diet, befits the image Aegon has in his mind regarding this weird boy. “He doesn’t seem ‘conqueror’-like to me. I still prefer to play with his Balerion toy dragon. I look more like a warrior than him.” He puffs out his chest as if his words require him to be prideful.

Aegon leans forward with his fists clenching at his sides. “I am named after The Conqueror. Of course, Balerion goes to me.”

“... I don’t see it.”

He wilts.

“But just this one time.”

The world is bright again.

Aegon runs to his toy chest and pulls out Balerion and Meraxes, carrying them like potato sacks under his arm. He chooses not to mind the grin of elfish mischief on his new friend’s face. He’s eager to have a new playmate that doesn’t mumble creepy things or cry when they get hit by a little bump. Aegon can tell — Aether is a fun person to be around with. And if Aether is present, Aesira is sure to follow, which means Aegon has something pretty to look at. Maybe he can convince her to play the princess kept in the tower, so he can act out one of his dreams as a worthy prince who rescues the fair maiden from her prison. That way, she can give him a kiss on the cheek as a reward and a handkerchief or piece of her dress as a favour for winning her hand. The thought of it sends Aegon in a rush of excitement.

“Play nice,” Aegon hears Aesira whisper to her brother. He tilts his head like a puppy.

Aether only snickers.

The younger boy, in fact, did not play nice.

What should be a nice game of conquering the territories of the Seven Kingdoms becomes a fight between the two dragons who are supposed to be allies.

It’s a miracle that Aemond doesn’t wake up from his deep nap at the noises Aether makes while trying to make Balerion surrender. But Helaena looks up from drawing random scribbles on her bound journal because of the sounds of wood scraping against wood. She looks down at her journal when she finds nothing interesting. At one point, Aegon’s hand gets included in the fray, biting his lip to not let someone hear his cry for pain. This is a game that his new friend is enjoying; he doesn’t want to spoil the fun. 

Aegon matches Aether’s enthusiasm. For all the times his hand is hit and the bursts of giggles Aether did, Aegon manages to pin down his Meraxes toy dragon on the floor. He expects the younger boy to feel dejected but much to his surprise, the giggles only increase. For once, Aegon doesn’t hide that he’s enjoying this roguish scene of child’s play. He doesn’t bite his lip when his hand is pressed between the wooden material, Aether doesn’t either. Their laughter rings out through the nursery that they don’t notice a certain babe’s fussing.

“No!” Aesira exclaims.

Aegon immediately turns his head to look at her.

“Ha!” Aether cheers. “I win! How about it? My dragon can beat any beast as long as I’m the rider.”

He doesn’t pay attention to his new friend’s self-celebration. His hand is limp around the wooden Balerion dragon.

Across from him, Aesira is in tears, bouncing the wailing babe in her arms. “Don’t cry, Daemian!” The babe keeps crying. Aesira is frantic now that the sound increases its volume. Her eyes keep flickering between the babe in her arms and the fussing toddler in one of the cribs. “Shh, Daemian, please. You’re going to wake up Aemond.” Aesira tries everything she can think of — patting the babe on the back, humming a lullaby that doesn’t help, cooing at the babe’s screaming face, and firmly hugging him close to her. Before long, she’s crying with him yet she’s more silent than him. “I don’t know what to do.”

Like a saving grace, a wet nurse barges into the nursery, movements distressed and searching for any mishap surrounding the Queen’s youngest child who is sleeping soundly after finding the most comfortable position, pudgy fingers still around one of Vhagar’s feet. Relief washes her face for a moment until she realises that the cry comes from the newest wards of the royal family. The wet nurse presses a hand on her chest, face scrunching in phantom pain before walking toward the three children forming a triangle on the rug-covered floor. She kneels in front of the weeping little ones, slightly leaning forward to give the girl all her attention.

“My Lady, I believe the babe is hungry,” the wetnurse placates.

“He always cries back in Dragonstone,” Aesira sniffles, “but he stops when I’m the one hugging him. Why won’t he stop now? Does he hate me?”

The wet nurse ruefully smiles at her. “I’m sure that isn’t the case, my Lady. He’s simply looking for his mouth to latch on. See how he presses himself on your chest? That is what babes do when they get hungry. Now, he’ll be as quiet as a snoring sheep once he’s drunk his fill. That is if you’ll let me, my Lady?”

The hesitance is clear on her face. If possible, she pulls the babe closer to her.

Aegon interjects, “Aemond always stops crying after he’s been tended to by his wetnurse. I’m sure it will be fine, A-Aesira.” He bites the inside of his cheek for the first time his tongue ever dares form the syllables of her name.

“Yes, Sira!” Aether cheers with a spurt of energy. “Damy is safe and you can play with us! You’ll be the maiden we’ll rescue in the battle.”

“I-Uhm,” Aesira looks down. “I’ll be with Princess Helaena instead.”

Her brother nods. “Alright. Just promise that you’ll be playing with us next time.”

They join their pinkies together and Aether goes back to facing a bemused Aegon while Aesira shyly introduces herself to Helaena.

“Don’t look so glum, Prince Aegon, Aesira never breaks her promises,” Aether forces a grin. “She’ll eventually come around.”

Aegon begrudgingly looks away from the little girl clad in the simple red dress that seems to outshine Mother. The boys continue their games with lesser enthusiasm than moments prior. This time, it’s Aegon who initiates the rowdier plots by bumping Balerion’s head into Meraxes’s. It garners a smile from the younger boy but it’s subdued. 

That night, when Aegon tries finding a comfortable position for him to sleep on his mattress and is left staring at the drab ceiling of the nursery, he catches Aether silently getting up from his mattress to sleep beside Aesira, who insisted that Daemian, their baby brother sleep next to her. It’s only as Aether wraps his arms around the girl and the babe that he realises Aesira’s shoulders are shaking. From then on, the children who unfortunately found themselves in a completely different world, one that’s separate from their own, only have one another against all odds.

Aegon turns away from them, ignoring the abysmal hole swallowing him from the inside out, and gives them the luxury of having their moment as theirs alone.

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[procrastinatorproject]

Fuck it, I'm gonna start posting my own shouty thoughts on season 3 of Picard rather than just commenting on other people's stuff.

I'll keep taggin everything "#picard spoilers" (assume I'm talking about everything up to the most recent ep, I'll warn seperately for leaked/promo stuff about ep 10) and "#picard saltiness" so you know what to blacklist (or look for, I'm not telling you how to internet 😋).

I'm sorry/get ready.

Here's the thing. I would like to watch season 3 of Picard and think "Oh well, this wasn't made for me, the same way season 1 wasn't made for the type of TNG fan who is in heaven right now. And I'm sad my favourite characters and main reasons I liked the show in the first place got written off, but I'm glad these other fans are having the time of their lives. Good on them, I'll just mentally file this away as a season/new show that I don't connect with as much as I'd hoped." I really, really want to be able to think that and approach season 3 this way.

But the writers won't let me.

At every turn, and I mean every turn, the writers have gone out of their way to not just pretend the previous two seasons didn't happen, but to remind us they happened and they were stupid and you're stupid to ever have enjoyed them.

It's not just that Picard, in the middle of his disillusioned identity crisis, when he has been holed up on his vinyard for over a decade, talking to nobody, and feeling deeply disappointed by Starfleet, gives an impassioned speech to a bunch of young people about how Starfleet is the only family you'll ever need.

That's a type of discontinuity/soft retcon I don't particularly enjoy, but if it were just that, I wouldn't be writing this way too long screed.

It's not even just the implicit "we will do it right this time" on display e.g. when Picard "flies" the Titan out of the labouring nebula. In that scene, Picard walks up to the captain's chair to take the conn, the TNG theme swells, he sits down, the music becomes bombastic, and he gets to be the Heroic Captain We All Remember. That scene is, in my opinion, something of a parallel to the season 1 scene where Picard tries to hijack La Sirena to take Soji to her people. In the season 1 scene, he sits in the captain's chair, the TNG-inspired music swells, he is about to be the Heroic Captain We All Remember -- except then the music fizzles out and the moment deflates because Picard has been retired for a decade and a half and has no idea what he's doing (and is certainly not the most qualified to do it on an unfamiliar ship).

That parallel in season 3 rubbed me the wrong way, because it felt too close to a refutation of season 1. Too close to "See? This is how that scene should have played out!" But that is a me problem. If the writers were remotely aware of the parallel (and I honestly doubt it, because I'm not sure they know season 1 well enough), it's just as likely they wrote it as a tongue-in-cheek reference, more than a rebuttal. Assuming the worst would have been on me and my unwillingness to give this season a fair shake. And if that sort of scene were the worst of it, I wouldn't be happy about it, but I wouldn't make it everybody else's problem.

Except the writers didn't stop there.

I would (eventually) be okay with it if the writers had just quietly abandoned, ignored, or even outright retconned some characters, history, themes, and plots from season 1 and 2 they disliked. But instead, they repeatedly acknowledge the existence of these elements only to then dismiss them in frankly viscious ways.

It's not enough to ignore the Jurati-Borg in all their Eggness glory and how they would be incredibly relevant to this story season 3 is trying to tell. It's not enough to pretend that storyline never happened and move on. Instead, the writers acknowledge the existence of the new collective, but the only sentence where it's mentioned is a character talking about "That weird shit on the Stargazer."

Yes, Shaw is a dick, yes it fits his character, yes Watsonian reasons. But it was still an active choice by the writers to only bring up one of the major plot developments of season 2 in the most derisive way possible.

Another example: The writers apparently felt that the Troi-Rikers didn't belong on Nepenthe. But it's not enough to have them move somewhere else between seasons, or even to let them have a discussion about how Nepenthe is steeped in loss and grief and they want to move somewhere else and start over.

Instead, the writers have to take time out of their already shoddily paced season to have these two characters extensively shit-talk one of the brightest momenst of season 1 (figuratively and literally). It's not just "they don't like it on Nepenthe anymore", it's "they never liked it, everything about it is terrible, everything season 1 showed you about their life there is a lie, and it has always been shitty and cringey and stupid, and you were stupid to like it!"

It's not just "we dumped our diverse characters, challenging themes, and relatively fresh view on the Trek universe from outside Starfleet for starship porn, great (white) men, and more Starfleet nostalgia than you can even comprehend". It's not just "we're going to ignore the existence of season 1 (and to a degree season 2), because it's not doing the things we want to do." It's not just "we're making this show, knowing (and not caring) that it will alienate a large chunk of the people who enjoyed season 1".

It's "we see what previous seasons were trying to do, and we need you to understand, really understand, how much contempt we have for these seasons and the people who enjoyed them."

I know some people felt this way about season 1 and the way it deconstructed Picard's image as the Great Heroic Captain and laid open his flaws and the flaws of the Federation. And I now empathize with them more than I ever thought I would. But I think there is a big qualitative difference in there.

In season 1, Picard gets put in his place. He has women people telling him when he's wrong, where he has failed, where he should have stepped up and needed to do better. But the show is still deeply sympathetic towards him. By the end of the season, Elnor has forgiven him, Raffi has forgiven him (without ever getting an apology), and he gets to save the day [whether the end to this particular arc is well done (it's not) is a rant for another day].

The failures Picard is being reproached for in season 1 pretty much exclusively happen between TNG and PIC. They tie in to patterns and tendencies the character has always had and attempt to deconstruct some of them. But there's no direct evisceration of specific things that happened on TNG.

At no point does Picard get out his Ressikan flute to make a glib comment about what a useless trinket it is, and how he should have thrown it out years ago. At no point does he turn to Riker and say: "Man, do you remember that Darmok and Jalad shit? What a waste of time! I wish we'd blown up that ship when we encountered it."

Season 1 is critical of Picard's character, yes, and it might feel crass or unfair at times (not least because we're still not used to seeing Great (White) Heroic Men Of Our Childhood get deconstructed that way). But any reproach the season 1 writers levelled at Picard pales in comparison to the petty contempt the season 3 writers regularly display towards the show they've ostensibly taken stewardship of.

Season 1 might have been a bit glib or inconsiderate of the legacy they inherited. Season 3 is viscious. And I am so, so tired of it.

[captainzigo]

Luster Dawn should've been the first villain of G5

Opaline is fine, but Luster is WAY more interesting as a potential villain

Then again, maybe I'm just salty over Luster being forgotten about after G4

now personally i don't think she is evil. i think she's just a loser. also i dont know if timelines line up for her to be a bad guy in g5 unless she is extremely old, or immortal somehow.

however

that would be awesome if she was evil. or at least misguided. i think her evil plan / evil ways would be unethical friendship experiments. like forcing people to be friends to power a laser. figuring out how to put friendship in jars for later. studying friendship in a lab and putting the test subjects through like science rat mazes. kidnapping people to study their friendship. using friendship magic for evil stuff. making people do weird shit to harvest their friendship more efficiently. that kind of thing.

and in the process of defeating her people would have to like convince her subjects that their contrived super friendships aren't healthy. or that friendship is cooler when a machine isn't sucking it out to use for evil. or even that their friendships are cool, but that they're being used to hurt people.

at first our heroes might even help her because some other threat vaguely justifies having more powerful friendship magic. and the experiments would start out being ethical and kinda cool. like learning how to be better friends by putting it to the test in a lab. or just general social studies. but the whole time leading up to them realizing she is evil, she'd always be ready to take things too far.

she would be unstoppable by even super friendship magic because she would have some of her own. she would keep a few friends of hers in a bunker somewhere to power her with their friendship. she would keep them in a plato's cave truman show style situation. every so often she would visit them to foster their relationship and like give them a bunch of gifts and love. and they would have no idea what she did when she left their cave. a little friendship cult to make her immune to the the-elements-of-harmony-were-just-symbols style friendship blasts even when all else fails.

she's described as twilight's best student, and that's certainly not because of her friendship skills. and if we pretend that that must include starlight, then that probably makes her the most powerful unicorn of all time. so if she goes super freak style with the friendship alchemy then she'd be unstoppable. beating her would mean they'd have to go rainbow power again but this time it's like nebula power, or aurora borealis power or something like that. which would be great for toys

I’ve always thought it would be cool to have a my little pony villain who was like doing friendship, the right way, and had all of this friendship magic stuff as a result, but was also bad and evil. and like the whole lesson can be like some people can be really good friends or even do really nice things and even be really nice people but still do bad things and stuff like that. a lesson I’m sure they’ve had before, but they’ve been going for nine seasons. What lessons haven’t they had. I think luster is a good candidate for this role based on her like two lines from the finale lol.

[snowe-zolynn-rogers]

Hey, you wanna info dump about your AUs?

It can be any you want from any fandom.

🪭

In all fairness, I still love SaMS, but I'm tired of all the bullshit, dude.

But either way! I would like to raise my Traveller Nebula AU. No not the astral body Nebula. The Sun without a Moon that Old Moon visited, I call him Nebula and I did so before the show came out with astral body Nebula (totally not salty about that.)

Basically, Nebula, in the midst of Old Moon dying, figures out how to make a dimensional portal, which Nebula uses to record at first, for his channel and also check up on people Old Moon had once helped, basically taking over where Old Moon left off.

With this, Nebula's dimension becomes a safe haven for friends he's made along the way from an Eclipse who isn't so bad, a Lunar who woke up post-star event, a KC whose family abandoned him after his redemption arc, a Moon whose Sun sacrificed himself to get rid of the kill code while they were still together in one body, and a Blood Moon without bloodlust.

Nebula finds his own found family in the friends he's made and they all just form a very close-knit family, bonding over the loss of all of their loved ones and growing to see each other as family.

[itsaash]

O'Knutzy Week! Prompts: Bucket hat & Summer Vacation

I'll be posting parts making up one story each day this week! It's a cubs au where Finn's spending the summer at his parent's house in the Hamptons and Leo is their private chef. yes, inspired by those amazing tiktoks. Logan will be revealed tomorrow 😏

Characters by @lumosinlove, for @oknutzyweek2023

Part 1

It was a day of full July heat, the kind of day that promises a summer full of sunshine, and you can already smell the sunscreen and salty air. Finn and Leo were sitting outside eating dinner, Leo had laid out a large wooden cutting board covered with the fixings to make world class sandwiches. He had arranged the meats, cheese, sourdough bread, fresh rolls, and chopped vegetables in a beautiful rainbow across the tray. It had been entirely too hot to even consider turning on an oven. 

As was their way on these long hot days of summer vacation in the Hamptons, Haley and Ramsey had eaten earlier, and then they spent most evenings at some friend’s or another, returning to the city most weekdays. Finn and Leo tended to eat together a bit later in the evening, so the temperature had blessedly gotten down a few degrees. Nevertheless, they sat in the garden under an umbrella, the shade surrounding them and the smell of the evening flowers beginning to fill the air. Finn always had a book (or ten) to work through editing and he had been spending his days moving with his laptop and piles of manuscripts from one place to another, working in every corner of the property as his attention ebbed and flowed. But on Fridays, Saturdays, and Sundays, mysteriously the best work spots seemed to always be in sight of the kitchen. Those were the days Leo was there. 

Leo had been working for Finn's parents for a few years now, in the city and at the Hamptons house. But Finn had been away at school and he had only met Leo a few weeks ago when he came home for a summer in the Hamptons. Leo was tall, taller than Finn even, his hair a bleached golden blonde and sky blue eyes that reflected the summer sky. Today, despite the shade of the umbrella, Leo also had a bucket hat perched on his head, mostly blue, with designs of nebulas and stars and space decorating it. Just the ends of his blonde hair curled out the bottom of the hat, and Finn’s eyes darted from Leo’s eyes to those teases of hair and back again approximately every minute.

Having Leo around was both a motivation and a distraction for Finn. He lived for the time in the afternoon when Leo would sit down, taking a break after cleaning up lunch and before he needed to start making supper. Knowing that was basically the only time of the day that Leo would stop was quite an effective motivator for Finn. He would make sure that he had done as much as he could in the morning so he could coincidentally have those hours free too. They had gone for walks, sat in the shade and read together, or sometimes Finn pretended to do his work and really covertly watched Leo make his elaborate grocery lists. Because the food Leo made was nothing less than amazing. 

This Sunday night, Finn was finishing his turkey on sourdough, the tang of the bread combining perfectly with some sort of perfect sandwich sauce that Finn suspected Leo had made himself. The flowers were all in bloom and the trees were the bright green that they got after the spring rains. It was glorious. Finn felt a tether between his heart and this place, this property that he had been coming to since he was a kid. But there was something new growing in his heart too … and it seemed to bloom on the weekends. He doesn’t want it to end. They switched to a fruit pie with cream and sure the food was great, but it wasn’t only the call of his taste buds that prompted Finn to jump.

“Hey, um, Leo?”

“Mmm?”

“I know this is kind of weird, of course you can say no, you wouldn’t have to cook at all! But would you want to stay this week? We can just… hang out?”

Leo paused, gazing at the big brown eyes looking up at him so hopefully.

“Oh, um, that’s real nice of you Finn! But my … boyfriend is expecting me back in the city.” 

Finn’s heart skipped about three beats, then raced to catch up. Boyfriend! But, boyfriend.  

“Oh yeah! Of course!” There was a long pause as they took bites of their pie. Finn felt disappointment fill his belly even more than the food did. Of course Leo had a boyfriend, he was funny, and sweet, and so gorgeous. Even as beautiful as the property was, he didn’t relish week after week with nothing but his work to keep him company. 

“He could come too!”

“Really?” Leo looked up, seeming surprised. “That’s a very kind offer, you don’t have to do that.”

“No really, if you like him, he must be great. And it doesn’t have to be anything else. I just love having you around. I don’t like being alone all week and Alex is barely coming up this summer at all. So, next week, do you want to bring him, and you guys can stay? I promise you don’t have to cook a single thing.”

A smile blossomed over Leo’s face as Finn rambled at high speed. 

“Well, he is actually on summer holiday right now. He’s a teacher,” Leo said. 

Finn perked up. “Wow, that’s so amazing, that’s even better! What’s he teach? I’ll cook, I promise I’m not trying to get extra work out of you.”

“Mmmhhmm, and what do you usually eat during the week then, Finn?” Leo asked, and Finn knew he was caught. 

“Well, nothing like you make, obviously. But I couldn’t put you to work here during the week too.” 

Leo smiled. “Well, I’d be cooking for myself and working on new recipes at home anyways. I don’t mind making some for you too. But maybe I’ll let you do the cleaning up.”

Finn felt a prickle of excitement tingle under his skin. “I can clean up! Dishes, sweeping, I know where everything goes, I can do that.” They laughed, Finn glanced away at the line of trees in the distance. He was being too eager. He took a breath.

“Well I’ll have to ask Lo, but I’ll message you tomorrow what he says, OK? It really is such a nice offer. I know Lo would appreciate getting out of the city after a busy semester.” Finn nodded eagerly. Lo and Leo. He wanted to spend the summer out here, but most of his friends were in the city. But next week he could have Leo and Lo in his house. He smiled to himself, trying to keep his excitement in check. They finished their sandwiches as the evening melded into the perfect temperature. Finn showed he could be true to his word by helping Leo clean up, happy for the chance to talk, and to plan and hope for what they could do next weekend.

[lazlolullaby]

It's been a month I can be salty.

Explanation under cut

He dropped the ball on Gamora and the whole Group of Guardians. This is the first time that it feels less like an ensemble movie and more like "The Space Adventures of Rocket and Quill"

There could have been more elaboration on Peter and Mantis leaving, Nebula staying on Knowhere during the story instead of at the end. Drax's touches of being a Dad to the kids was actually really well done.

Groot didn't really have a character. Not even when his Dad Rocket was dying, he didn't feel like he was active in the story or given time to react at all.

Peter Quill's Arc was halfway decent so he wasn't mentioned. I have doubts that he'll return, but worse things have happened in this franchise. (i mean this as a joke.)

James has gone on record to say "you can just hop in" to Vol 3...but. That's putting new fans over the old ones. That's not fair or satisfying to the people that love these characters and have been following them for these 9 years.

List of Gamoras:

Guardian Gamora who was killed by her abuser in IW to "humanize" him. And then not followed up on. No funeral, no mentions aside from Quill having some very human grief but still unhealthy and Nebula taking a moment.

Gamora from the T'challa Star-Lord What if was just...not mentioned. At all. Only Nebula and Thanos were seen.

Gamora from the What if where she Kills Thanos and takes his armor. She has a Funko Pop...but she's in season 2 in limbo and we don't know anything about her. Also a Gamora that died against Upgraded!Ultron...

Ravager / Feral Gamora, who hitched a ride with the Ravagers in a deleted scene and got her bonding with them off screen. Pulled into a tough situation with her other self, constantly compared. It was a bad spot but Gunn handled it where she kept her choices and understood the Starmora relationship enough to keep in touch with Quill.

James just gave a really good swing at his fursona (i mean this affectionately) 's backstory and writing the end of a chapter of their lives. Adventures can still happen, the Guardian's aren't gone, but...they'll never be the same again.

We're never going to see them at their "peak" between Vol 2 and Infinity War and that's a shame. They were more family than the Avengers ever were. Despite being aliens, they were more human than many other characters in the MCU.

[wingsofhcpe]

Star Trek: La Sirena Fam & what each of them would do during Greek Eastern Orthodox Easter!

Picard: he's the perfect age to go all-out greek grandfather, tbh. Gets super excited to organise a big feast on Easter Sunday, wants to live it to the fullest, plans to do the whole "roasting an entire lamb for half a day" routine.

Raffi: has no idea what all the fuss is about but hey, there's food, wine and good fun, so why not. she doesn't care but gets EXTREMELY competitive with the egg-cracking, keeps slamming her egg into everyone else's and trying to wine through brute force, ignoring the fact that there's an ✨️art✨️ to the sport.

Rios: "I'm too old for this shit", absolutely doesn't want to partake in the festivities but ends up getting roped in by Picard and made to help with roasting the lamb. At the end of the day he can be found sitting to the side and eating tsoureki (as he should). Also probably gets shitfaced before half the day is done, ends up trying to dance. There's video. Shh, don't tell him.

Agnes: loves the fireworks of Resurrection Night! Loves the candles and the lanterns!! Loves the food and drink! She's so excited to experience something new and learn about a culture she's not familiar with, she's the one taking photos of everyone, she even tried to dye the eggs herself (with a little help from Stewart; it worked!). Definitely drags a very sulky Rios out so they can watch the fireworks together and feel all romantic and sappy (he complains, but of course he secretly loves it).

Seven: crowned winner of the egg-cracking competition, Raffi is SO salty about it. Also a tsoureki fan, ends up stuffing her face with it at breakfast and doesn't want to eat anything else for the rest of the day. Started watching Jesus of Nazareth every afternoon during the week just out of boredom because Elnor and Soji tuned in, is now very invested in it, also lowkey isn't sure the kids should be watching it. Especially Elnor.

Elnor: super disturbed by how bloody, brutal and visceral some of those traditions and cultural details are, tbh. ("What do you mean Jesus died?? Again? I thought it only happened once. Ooh, he's coming back? I see... wait- why are we following his tomb around the neighbourhood? Why are the old men chanting??"). Very invested into watching Jesus of Nazareth, though Soji has to very gently explain to him that that's not Actually Jesus, just an actor (he's shocked).

Soji: very excited to learn about a new culture ! Wants to try everything, from the food to the eggs to reading up all the little tidbits, fun facts and regional traditions she can get her hands on. Wants to help Picard and the holo squad prep the food, set up the table, etc. Feels like she's part of a family celebration for the literal first time in her life!

The holos pop up at random inrervals: Emil makes sure everyone stays hydrated and that nobody accidentally sets anything (or anyone) on fire. Enoch is in charge of the music (oh, so many corny traditional greek songs... meanwhile nobody in there speaks greek). Emmet is supposed to help in the kitchen but just falls asleep, and Ian is helping Agnes take the most embarrassing (and adorable) photos of a drunk Rios & Seven

[special dedication of this post to @coffee-in-that-nebula because i feel like we're the only greek ST:P/La Sirena stans around 😂]

[morpheusxmp]

Closed starter for the brilliant minded goddess @mpathena

As excited as he may have been to accept the role of Liberal Arts Chair, and even more so to reconnect with some colleagues, Morpheus was still the patient and considerate sort. He waited; he waited until the end of Athena's work day; he waited until she was back in her office, packing up for the the journey to her home away from home. A secretive smile played upon his lips as he peeked through her open door. He remained silent, however--that is, until she had finally turned around to leave, and just as she did so, the entire scenery changed.

In a blink, the goddess was no longer surrounded by the interior of her office, but deep within a familiar scene. The golden rays of a sunset bathed through the columns of the Parthenon--not weathered by time, but instead pristine as the years the Acropolis had been built. The air fresh, clean, untouched by industrial pollutants as the sky was clear of smog or planes, smelling sweet and salty and humid at the end of a summer's day. Instead of the drone of traffic, the sound of the sea and the gulls could be heard in the distance, seen to the south with mountains to the east. All of it just as it was thousands of years ago, as though plucked from memory of ages long past.

"Surprise~"

His voice was unmistakable, that low baritone that was so soft, like a purr, scarcely above a whisper yet heard just the same. Morpheus stood, peeking around a nearby column, the stars of the night sky shimmering within his eyes. Though kept in a messy bun, some locks of his hair escaped to float about him as though he was suspended in water and drifting on a subtle current; the fabric of his coat followed the same pattern, draped over him like ethereal shadows; the lining, when visible, seemed made of threads spun from the night sky itself, ever shifting with constellations, nebulas, auroras, as a universe trapped within cloth. Above all this, however, Morpheus was smiling fondly at an old friend.

[rostomanologist]

GW2 Character Roster

Pheanois (he/him) Sylvari Engineer Kind but a bit sarcastic gentleman. Explorer in Durmand Priory, adventurer and tech enthusiast. Nerdy, gallant and hilariously sweet dude who sees the world as the endless space of possibilities. Happily married to his best ranger friend.

Noereen (she/her) Sylvari Revenant Reckless traveller, always seeking for challenge. Traumatized by her Mists experience but tries to heal, not without help of her boyfriends. Emotional, loud and trying to take everything from life, a bit egocentric, but always ready to protect and help others.

Naohiro Fetch (he/him) Human Thief Silent, humble and pragmatic Whispers Lightbringer, sniper and assassin, one of the leaders of Team BWTCH (along with his husband). Former thug with too much left behind, including his own child. Solemn, strict and hardworking, yet caring and compassionate.

Falco Burngrace/Hopewatch (she/they) Charr Warrior Peaceful and surprisingly chill Whispers agent, gladium and member of Team BWTCH. Too chatty, a bit clumsy and with a huge problem of befriending criminals. Still, a loyal friend, professional fighter and a good cat, always ready to help and make people laugh.

Nebula Rouvent (she/her) Sylvari Thief+Mesmer (in-game - Thief) Ex-Nightmare Courtier, former self-proclaimed Countess of Fangs, nowadays an uncanny cyberpunk vampire girlfriend blending in Krytan nobility. Extravagant and chaotic, violent and ambitious, loves to play with people no matter if they are food for her or not. Strangely, knows a lot more than she should.

Dreamwalker Sonia (she/her) Sylvari Mesmer Valiant whose Hunt is to spend most of her life in the Dream protecting and guiding saplings before waking up. Because of that is in an almost constant hibernation, waking up for a really short time. Bold, curious and friendly, but somehow a bit depressed by her fate, even though she accepted it.

Maitiú Sunwielder (he/him) Sylvari Guardian Valiant and wanderer, just a dude who tries to make things right and sometimes fails. Tied tightly to Nightmare Court, had a terrible experience with them in attempt to understand their ways of indoctrination which he is to fight. For now travels with his boyfriend whom he rescued from there. Generally warm (in all meanings), empathic and willing to help, but deep down inside has a shred of burning anger and ruthlessness, an urge to exterminate ones who harms innocents.

Secondborn Eina Astera (she/her) Sylvari Mesmer Wyld Hunt valiant and Durmand Priory Arcanist, researcher of Dragonbrand. Arrogant, has a temper, a bit of a snob, but tries to do only good and help people when needed. Has 3 passions in her life: her Hunt, her GF and astronomy. Somehow too involved in Elonian local noble drama.

Ciaráhn (he/they) Sylvari Revenant Catboy Commander (or Wayfinder at this point). A typical comm character: tired, not knowing where to put themselves and deeply traumatized. Even though they mean good and are caring and compassionate, they are very grumpy and salty, preferring to cut short to the deals.

Caeinthe (she/they) Sylvari Necromancer Former Valiant who failed their Hunt. Violently. Spent most of her life in attempt to complete it, in hibernation after failure, in Nightmare Court for a short time, in jail after that and now helping her quirky asura friend. Phlegmatic, unemotional and uncanny: you will never tell if they plan to murder you or not.

Nuallánn/Allan Slyboots (he/him) Sylvari Ranger Mysterious trickster who wanders all over Tyria spreading lies about his life. Leaves even his age unknown, for some reason unable to speak truth about himself, though there's nothing dark in there. Generally friendly, romantic and dorky, searching for adventure.