Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
A drawing that I did today and I have been wanting to do since I did the lastest drawing of Seven. I liked the B&W portrait of Seven so much, that I had to do a Janeway B&W portrait being serious.
Do not use without permission and I hope that you’ll like it.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
protestants: god is not an absent father! talk to god like a friend! god is always with you! bring your problems to god, no matter how small! it’s not at all weird to call god “daddy!”
catholics: god is far too important to give a fuck about your lost keys or your algebra exam. please address your petty concerns to one of god’s ten thousand holy secretaries. if it’s really important, consider asking his mom.
Like if a white person from the American suburbs who had doctors for parents says "the suburbs are set up in a way that's designed to alienate the people within them from their neighbors growing up there can be an incredibly lonely isolating experience" and you respond with "shut up you had everything you ever wanted growing up" you are sort of pretending that this asocial way of living we've set up based on harmful ideas like castle doctrine and individualism is in some way desirable for someone when the reality of the situation is that everyone is miserable.
Oh boy this is popping off. But I just want to put on this post that this isn't just about the example that I used this is also when people get mad at you for complaining about aspects of living in America because other people are getting bombed by America how dare you, or when (usually neurodivergent) white people complain about how wasp monoculture is high key hostile to be raised in, or when people with middle class jobs complain about the shit their boss pulls, or any other number of situations in which a relatively privileged potential ally talks about the unique ways the oppressive systems we're looking to overthrow effects them negatively. Like yes sure if you have a minimum wage job it's annoying to listen to someone with a salary and benefits say "my boss treats me like shit and my company is doing x evil thing" but if you're in that situation and you're actually down for the cause instead of just here to play oppression Olympics, you want to gain allies in this fight by saying "have you considered unionizing" instead of pushing people away by saying "shut up at least you can afford rent"
The argument that people are too privileged too complain about their situation used to be exclusively one said by self identified conservatives, but generations of conservative propaganda has made it so people who call themselves leftists will repeat it word for word.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
INFORMATION I WAS NOT PREPARED TO LEARN. MAYBE WE *ARE* ALONE. BECAUSE WE ARE SO *EARLY*. IF THERE IS EVER GALACTIC CIVILIZATION THEY WILL NOT REMEMBER US AT ALL. BECAUSE WE ARE NOTHING. CELLS, JUST BEGINNING TO FORM LIFE. SORRY FOR SCREAMING. BUT ARE YOU LISTENING. ARE YOU THINKING ABOUT IT.
Well, there were some quirks. It was carbon-based, which was mildly interesting, and Arc’s shuttle readouts told her that it was the plants that had developed photosynthesis, weirdly. The atmosphere had a massive amount of oxygen, and there was all that water, too, more than she had ever seen in one place before. And every planet was, as her trainers had told her, its own unique jewel.
But one thing they had not told her was that all the jewels started to blend together after a while, and after a little longer each one became just another assignment. So the planet was just another assignment. A little ball of water and tumbled stone and flora in a cul-de-sac of the galaxy. One more stack of paperwork for Arc to get through before she could go home to her marital partners and offspring.
Arc aimed her shuttle in the middle of one of the larger continents, away from the mountain range and near a smaller body of (oh, gosh, more) water. As she got closer to the ground, though, her shuttle readouts changed. There were irregular smudges of radiation on the surface, and chemical evidence of constructed materials. Arc squinted, and her tertiary limbs started to shiver in frustration. There were ruins down there. Nobody had told her she’d be surveying a formerly inhabited planet. Great, she thought. Now I’m never getting home.
Arc sent a note by ansible to Ecba, her dearest marital partner. A few mins later, as her shuttle settled on the ground, she got back the image of a hand-sculpted message. “My little machine,” it said, Ecba’s sweetheart-name for her, and she could see all the love that went into the lettering. “Does it have to be you?”
Arc put on her enviro-suit and got her surveying monitor. “Maybe not,” she sent. She didn’t have the same skill in sculpting that Ecba had, so she just had to trust that her love was conveyed in the digital lettering. “Wish me luck. I’ll try to come home to you all soon.”
Then she stepped out into the world.
The first thing she noticed was that the sky was blue. It was disconcerting, to say the least. Blue was for water, and some crystal formations, and nebulae, not the sky. She wondered what it had done to whatever inhabitants used to live here, to have such a bright, unwieldy color as the backdrop of their days. If they used the light spectrum to see at all, that was. Well, she thought as she carried her surveying monitor away from the shuttle, she’d find out.
The second thing she noticed was that the ruins were invisible from the ground. All she could see for kiloms and kiloms was wildly ambitious vegetation, some rocks, and the melodramatic blue of the sky. The ruins must have been old enough that any wood or rock or even petroleum deposits would have broken down into microscopic pieces, from time or the weather, or been buried. Whatever she was dealing with wasn’t just gone, it was long gone.
Arc felt herself start to get interested, despite her desire to go home. Junior surveyors like her didn’t get mysteries like this. Ruins were one thing, the residue of a solitary existence before the inhabitants discovered, or were discovered by, other planets and polities, and they left to make a new life among the stars. But mysteries were something else.
She found a flat place to set up her surveying monitor, and set the aperture. Immediately she was surrounded by a hologram re-creation of her surroundings. She figured five thousand years was long enough, to start with. She flipped the dial back, clacked her secondary limbs for luck, and told it to go.
Nothing. The hologram was the same, just ruins and vegetation.
Arc checked the monitor. It seemed to be working fine. She turned it off and turned it on again just to make sure. Then she set it for ten thousand years.
Ruins. Vegetation. Nothing else.
Arc turned the hologram off, and sat back and looked around. The vegetation gave her no answers. She clacked her limbs in confusion, and then thought, Fuck it, and set the monitor for a hundred thousand years. Even if she missed the departure point, the thing she was always told to capture first, at least she’d get something.
Nothing. Even so far back, everything was exactly the same.
Arc started to get a bad feeling. She tried two hundred thousand years, and nothing. Three hundred thousand years. Then, feeling like she was losing her mind, she set it back five hundred thousand years.
And, there.
It wasn’t the inhabitants, but she could see traces of the buildings they had built for themselves, in the process of crumbling to nothing. She started creeping slowly back in time from there: year after year. The weather patterns on the monitor were very different from what she was experiencing now, with scorching heat and hurricanes, the air filled with ash. There was no vegetation. Arc’s bad feeling crystallized into fear.
Finally, finally, she found a living soul. Just one, wandering through the ruins, shielding itself from the blistering sunlight. It walked right in front of her on the hologram, and turned and looked straight through her. She stared at it, trying to understand.
It was a soft, squishy thing, bipedal and barely coming to half her height. It moved like nothing she'd ever seen, and she shouldn't have been able to read any emotion in that strange face and those alien limbs. But she saw grief there, she was sure of it.
Back, and back. The ruins rebuilt themselves, the weather patterns steadied. Arc saw more of those strange bipedal beings, and other squishy creatures that connected to the beings with string. She saw small fauna and stone roads, machines that moved and buildings so tall they blocked out the sky. She found a group of three, a taller being and two very short ones, and watched them for a long time, as they came and went from the image of the building in front of her. After watching them for a while, she realized that they were a family.
Arc found another being, and watched it making something out of wood: a little carving of one of the creatures that moved along on string. She saw beings creating machines that made images, and she saw beings painting colors on walls. She saw beings fighting each other, killing each other, mourning each other. She saw them raising each other, playing with each other. She saw them making and making: creating by themselves, creating together. And all of them so long ago, long before even Arc's people, the oldest civilization she knew, had begun to walk among the stars.
These beings, the ones that had lived hundreds of thousands of years ago, had spent the entire course of their existence alone in the universe. The ruins weren't ruins because they had left for better things. The ruins were ruins because they had died out, all of them, millennia before they could be found.
Arc felt grief well up inside of her, and she began to keen. This wasn't the way it was supposed to be. Life was meant to find other life; that's what life was for.
How lonely they must have been, she thought, singing her mourning song for them. All that creation, all that art and all that play, the machines that made images, the paint scrawled on walls, the carvings made with strange limbs but with so much love that Arc could feel it even now — and they couldn't share it with anyone. How impossible the galaxy, the universe, must have felt to them.
I’m sorry, she thought, and keened for them. I’m sorry you were all alone. I’m sorry we were too late for you, and that you were too early for us. I'm sorry for all of it. But we’re here now. We have you. You’re not alone anymore, and you’ll never be alone again.
After a while she calmed. The holographic images were still going, and she found herself struck by another family: this one had many large beings and a few small ones, and it was clear in their movements how much they loved each other. That was important, she thought. That love was what was left, after everything. That love was what she was here to preserve.
Arc got up off the ground on shaky limbs, still grief-stricken but feeling stronger. She went back to her shuttle and sent the images she had recorded to her supervisors, along with a note that they needed to send more of her colleagues, now, so that everything could be captured faithfully.
She also sent a note to Ecba. “My star,” Arc wrote. “I have memories I need to excavate here. I am sorry I will not be home soon. I will come back when I can, but in the meantime know that I love you, and our family.”
Then she got her carving tools, and her clay. She wasn't as good as Ecba, but this memory, these stories, deserved the work of her hands.
Arc went back to her surveying monitor. She turned it on, and wound it back and back, farther than she’d ever imagined it was possible for life to go. She braced herself for grief again, and for the love she was going to find. She arranged her clay, and picked up her tools. She let the monitor play, showing her the planet’s long, brilliant memory. And then she began to tell the story.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
I see a lot of folks defending their vitriolic repugnance towards toddlers with cries of "but my sensory needs!" as if children are not also in possession of sensory needs. As if you, an adult here on Tumblr.com, do not have the capability and resources to learn the skills or acquire aids for coping with competing access needs. Or, y'know, just the option to leave, the way children most often do not.
You're holding an actual child to higher standards than you hold yourself, but it's the child that should be removed from public and community spaces. For your comfort.
blakekathryn
areudirty
izzy806
kianamaiart
prguitarman
yousharknotpass
gamechangershow
vaporwave
pixelskylines
