this is one of my favorite photos of her ever the lighting, her facecard, her expression, her hair, the look in her eyes, her shirt, the EVERYTHING
Three Goblin Art

Janaina Medeiros
Xuebing Du
trying on a metaphor
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
h
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me

if i look back, i am lost
ojovivo
Sade Olutola

blake kathryn
Stranger Things
d e v o n
occasionally subtle
we're not kids anymore.
Acquired Stardust
Cosmic Funnies

โ
seen from Israel

seen from United States

seen from Germany

seen from United States
seen from France
seen from United States
seen from Germany
seen from Lithuania
seen from Mexico

seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Spain

seen from China
seen from South Korea

seen from United States
seen from Italy
seen from France
seen from United States

seen from Spain

seen from Italy
@nvnth
this is one of my favorite photos of her ever the lighting, her facecard, her expression, her hair, the look in her eyes, her shirt, the EVERYTHING

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.
Free to watch โข No registration required โข HD streaming
Played dress up with them for a little bit hehe
Between Stars and Time
[Pt. 1] [Pt. 2]
pairing: megan skiendiel x fem!reader info: astronaut y/n is sent into space in 2016 and returns ten years later to a world that moved on without her. as she rebuilds her life, she finds a place with katseye, and something real with megan. warnings: fluff, time travel, loss of home country, displacement, identity adjustment, found family, slow burn, soft romance note: this is very loosely inspired by the show Manifest. if you havenโt seen it, you should! this is the most detailed thing i've ever written, gotta split it in two. enjoy! [pt. 1 word count: 8k+ | 19k+ total]
The morning of the launch was strangely quiet.
Not silentโthere were still the sounds of machinery humming beneath the floors of the facility, the distant rumble of transport vehicles moving across the concrete outsideโbut the quiet inside the preparation wing felt heavier than usual. It pressed into the walls and settled in the corners of the room where Y/N sat, dressed in the pale blue compression suit that would go beneath the bulkier layers of her astronaut gear.
For months she had imagined this moment.
Years, even.
Becoming an astronaut in Avernia had never been something people thought of as realistic. The country was small compared to the global powers that dominated space exploration. Its coastlines were narrow, its population modest, its resources carefully balanced between technological advancement and simple survival. But despite its size, Avernia had always carried a quiet pride in the things it managed to accomplish.
And Asteria-1 was meant to be its greatest accomplishment yet.
Y/N sat with her hands folded together, staring down at the floor tiles beneath her boots. The fabric of the suit felt tight around her arms, but she barely noticed. Her thoughts were somewhere else entirely, drifting between the memories that had led her here.
Training simulations.
Long nights studying orbital trajectories.
Endless hours inside rotating chambers meant to prepare her body for the strain of launch.
All of it had led to today.
A knock sounded lightly on the door.
Y/N looked up.
One of the technicians leaned into the room, holding a clipboard in one hand.
โWeโre ready for you.โ
Y/N stood slowly, smoothing her hands over the front of the suit as she exhaled.
Her heartbeat had been steady all morning.
Now it picked up slightly.
Not from fear.
From anticipation.
The hallway outside the preparation room was lined with people. Engineers. Technicians. Mission coordinators. Some of them she recognized from years of training, others were faces she had only seen occasionally in passing.
Every one of them looked at her as she walked by.
There was pride in their expressions.
Hope.
Avernia had never sent someone this far before.
The Asteria-1 mission wasnโt just a symbolic step for the countryโs space program. It was a research mission meant to test long-duration orbital technology and deep communication systems. If successful, it would open the door for future missionsโpossibly even cooperative projects with larger nations.
And Y/N had been chosen to represent all of it.
By the time she reached the final chamber, the rest of the suit had been prepared.
The technicians helped guide her into the outer layers, securing the seals along her arms and torso before locking the helmet into place. Their movements were practiced and efficient.
Still, one of them paused briefly before stepping back.
โYouโre going to make history today.โ
Y/N smiled faintly.
โI hope so.โ
A transport vehicle waited outside the building to take her to the launch platform.
The drive was short, but it felt longer as she watched the facility pass by through the small window beside her seat.
Beyond the outer gates, the rocket stood tall against the morning sky.
Asteria-1.
The launch tower surrounded it like a skeletal frame, metal beams rising alongside the smooth white body of the spacecraft.
Even after months of seeing it in person, the sight still filled her with awe.
Soon, she would be inside it.
The final preparations moved quickly.
She climbed the access tower with steady steps, guided by two technicians who remained silent as they reached the top platform.
From there, the entrance hatch waited.
Y/N paused for a moment, looking out across the coastline stretching beyond the facility.
The ocean glimmered in the distance beneath the rising sunlight.
Somewhere beyond that horizon was the rest of the world.
But today, she would be leaving all of it behind.
The technician nearest to her opened the hatch.
โReady?โ
Y/N nodded.
โReady.โ
The interior of the spacecraft was smaller than most people imagined when they thought of space missions.
The command seat sat at the center of the narrow control area, surrounded by panels of switches and digital screens. Storage compartments lined the walls, and beyond them was the compact living section where she would spend the majority of her time during the mission.
Everything had been designed with efficiency in mind.
Every inch of space mattered.
Y/N secured herself into the seat and began running through the final system checks.
Her voice echoed faintly inside the helmet as she spoke into the communication line.
โGround control, this is Asteria-1. Pre-launch checks complete.โ
A calm voice answered her from the headset.
โLoud and clear, Asteria-1. All systems green.โ
The countdown began shortly afterward.
Even after all the training simulations, nothing quite prepared her for the real thing.
The vibration started slowly, spreading through the metal structure of the spacecraft as the engines ignited beneath it. The rumble deepened into a thunderous roar that filled every corner of the cockpit.
Y/N tightened her grip on the armrests.
The numbers on the display ticked downward.
Five.
Four.
Three.
Two.
One.
The rocket surged upward.
The force pressed her firmly back into the seat as the ground fell away beneath the spacecraft. The acceleration was intense, but her training allowed her body to adjust quickly.
Outside the small window beside her seat, the sky shifted from pale blue to a darker shade as the rocket climbed higher.
Clouds drifted below them.
Then the ocean.
Then the curvature of the Earth itself.
Within minutes, the violent shaking faded as the rocket reached orbit.
Weightlessness followed shortly after.
Y/N carefully released the harness straps and pushed herself away from the seat, letting her body drift slowly through the small cabin.
She smiled.
For a moment, everything felt perfect.
The mission settled into a quiet routine over the next several days.
Y/N performed scheduled experiments, recorded data logs, and maintained communication with the mission team back in Avernia. The spacecraftโs orbit carried her across the planet multiple times each day, offering a constantly shifting view of the world below.
Sometimes she floated near the observation window for long stretches of time.
From space, the Earth looked peaceful.
No borders.
No conflicts.
Just clouds swirling above vast oceans and continents.
It was easy to forget how complicated life on the surface could be.
The communication system allowed her to stay in contact with ground control several times a day.
Most of the conversations were simple.
Status updates.
Research data.
Occasional jokes from the technicians who had helped build the spacecraft.
They sounded proud every time they spoke to her.
Proud that Avernia had made it this far.
Proud that the mission was running smoothly.
Then one night, something changed.
Y/N had just finished recording one of the scheduled research logs when the communication signal crackled in her headset.
She frowned slightly, adjusting one of the frequency dials on the control panel.
โGround control, do you copy?โ
Static answered her.
She waited a moment.
Then tried again.
โGround control, this is Asteria-1. Do you read?โ
Still nothing.
That wasnโt completely unusual. Signal disruptions could happen briefly depending on the spacecraftโs position relative to the ground antennas.
Normally, the connection returned within a few minutes.
But the minutes passed.
Ten.
Twenty.
An hour.
Y/N floated near the communication panel, her fingers tapping lightly against the edge of the console.
The silence inside the cabin suddenly felt heavier than it had before.
She ran another diagnostic check.
All systems appeared normal.
The transmitter was working.
The antenna alignment was correct.
There was no reason for the signal to be failing.
She leaned closer to the microphone again.
โGround control, this is Asteria-1 requesting status update.โ
Nothing.
The quiet stretched on.
Outside the observation window, the stars looked sharper than usual against the darkness of space.
Y/N forced herself to remain calm.
Temporary communication outages were part of spaceflight.
Still, something about this one feltโฆ different.
Hours passed.
Eventually she drifted back toward the command seat, securing herself loosely into the harness as she watched the navigation display.
The spacecraftโs orbit remained stable.
Everything appeared normal.
Except for the complete absence of contact with Earth.
Then the radar screen flickered.
At first, she thought it was another minor system glitch.
But the flicker returned a few seconds later.
The lines across the display shifted slightly.
Y/N leaned forward, studying the readings.
The spacecraftโs trajectory was changing.
Not dramatically.
But enough to be noticeable.
Her fingers moved quickly across the control panel as she attempted to stabilize the navigation system.
โAsteria-1 attempting manual correction.โ
The engines responded briefly.
For a moment, the readings stabilized.
Then the radar screen flashed again.
This time the shift was stronger.
The stars outside the window seemed to distort slightly, as if the darkness around the spacecraft had briefly rippled.
Y/Nโs breath caught.
That wasnโt possible.
Space didnโt behave like that.
The instruments began registering unfamiliar readings across multiple systems.
Radiation spikes.
Magnetic interference.
Navigation errors that didnโt match any known malfunction patterns.
She reached for the communication line again.
โGround control, Iโm experiencing unusual readings. Requesting immediate response.โ
Static filled the headset.
Thenโ
A sharp burst of light flashed across the observation window.
The spacecraft jolted violently.
Y/N gripped the armrests as the cabin lights flickered.
The radar display scrambled completely for several seconds before going dark.
Silence returned.
Heavy.
Unmoving.
Y/N slowly released her grip on the controls.
Her heart was pounding now.
Outside the window, the stars looked normal again.
Too normal.
The navigation system rebooted automatically, bringing the radar screen back to life.
The orbit path displayed across the monitor updated itself.
Y/N stared at the new readings.
Her brow furrowed.
Something about them feltโฆ wrong.
But without communication with ground control, she had no way to confirm what had happened.
For the moment, all she could do was wait.
And hope someone on Earth was still listening.
The hours after the anomaly passed slowly. Y/N kept herself busy moving between the control console and the observation window, checking every system she could think of while she waited for Avernia Ground Control to respond. The spacecraft itself seemed perfectly stable. Power levels remained consistent, oxygen flow was normal, and the navigation system continued tracking the same orbit it had followed since launch. Nothing in the diagnostic panels suggested damage or malfunction, which only made the silence from Earth feel more unsettling. If the systems were functioning correctly, then someone back home should have been able to hear her.
She floated back toward the communication console and adjusted the transmission frequency again. The small cabin lights reflected faintly across the control screens while she worked, casting pale glows over the narrow interior of the spacecraft. Everything looked exactly as it had earlier in the mission. The equipment hummed softly around her, filling the quiet with the steady background noise she had grown used to during the first few days in orbit.
Still, the headset remained silent.
Y/N pressed the transmit switch once more, keeping her voice steady even though the situation was beginning to feel strange.
โAvernia Ground Control, this is Asteria-1 requesting signal confirmation.โ
Static answered her.
The faint crackle faded after a few seconds, leaving nothing behind but the hum of the spacecraftโs life support system. Y/N watched the communication panel for a moment longer before releasing the transmit button. Signal interruptions were normal during orbital passes, especially when the spacecraft moved beyond the direct range of the primary antenna stations. Normally the connection returned quickly once the craft moved back into position.
This time, it didnโt.
Another hour passed while she attempted several different frequencies. Each attempt produced the same empty result. The silence inside the cabin grew heavier with each failed transmission, pressing into the small space around her in a way she hadnโt noticed earlier in the mission.
Eventually she tried one of the broader emergency channels used by international monitoring networks. It wasnโt meant to replace direct mission control, but those channels were constantly scanning for signals from spacecraft and satellites around the planet. If Avernia couldnโt hear her for some reason, there was a chance another station might pick up the transmission.
She adjusted the output power slightly and leaned toward the microphone.
โThis is Asteria-1 broadcasting on emergency channel frequency. If anyone can hear this transmission, please respond.โ
For several seconds nothing happened.
Then the static in her headset shifted.
A faint sound pushed through the interference, barely audible at first. Y/N straightened immediately, her hand tightening slightly around the edge of the console as she listened. It wasnโt clear enough to make out words yet, but it was definitely different from the empty static she had been hearing all night.
The voice on the other end sounded distant and distorted.
โโฆrepeatโฆ unidentified signal detectedโฆโ
Y/N leaned closer to the microphone.
โThis is astronaut Y/N aboard the Asteria-1 spacecraft. Please confirm you are receiving this transmission.โ
The static crackled again before the voice returned, a little clearer this time.
โโฆsignal origin unclearโฆ repeating identification requestโฆโ
Y/N frowned slightly. The response sounded confused, almost cautious, which wasnโt the reaction she expected from someone answering a standard spacecraft transmission.
โThis is the Asteria-1 mission launched from Avernia in 2016. Please confirm your station.โ
The voice disappeared for several seconds before returning again. This time it sounded more focused, as if the person speaking had moved closer to their equipment.
โRepeat that identification.โ
โThis is astronaut Y/N aboard Asteria-1, launched by the Avernia Space Agency.โ
Silence filled the line again, but this time it didnโt feel like a broken signal. Y/N could hear faint movement in the background of the transmissionโdistant voices, the shuffle of equipment, the low murmur of people speaking somewhere near the microphone. Whoever had picked up her signal clearly wasnโt alone.
She waited patiently, floating beside the console while the spacecraft drifted through orbit.
When the voice returned, it sounded steadier.
โUnidentified spacecraft, please confirm your launch date.โ
Y/N answered without hesitation.
โApril 12th, 2016.โ
Another pause followed, longer than the ones before it. The faint background voices became louder for a moment as if the person on the other end had turned away from the microphone to speak to someone else nearby. Y/N couldnโt make out the words, but the tone sounded surprised.
When the man finally spoke again, his voice carried a careful edge.
โCan you confirm your launch origin again?โ
โAvernia Space Agency orbital launch facility.โ
There was a quiet intake of breath on the other end of the line.
Y/N noticed it immediately.
The reaction made something cold settle slowly in her chest.
The man spoke again after another moment.
โStand by.โ
The transmission didnโt disconnect, but the manโs voice faded into the background again while he spoke to someone else at his station. Y/N could hear several different voices now, their words overlapping too much to understand clearly. The tone of the conversation sounded serious.
She remained still beside the console while she waited.
The cabin lights reflected softly off the metal panels surrounding her. Outside the observation window, the stars looked sharp and steady against the darkness of space. The Earth rotated slowly beneath the spacecraft, its atmosphere glowing faintly along the edge of the planet.
Everything outside looked normal.
Inside the cockpit, Y/N felt a growing sense that something was very wrong.
The voice returned a minute later.
โThis is the Pacific Orbital Monitoring Network. Please confirm again: you identify as the Asteria-1 mission?โ
Y/N blinked.
That wasnโt an Avernia station.
โYes. Thatโs correct.โ
Another pause.
Then the man spoke again, sounding more serious now.
โAsteria-1โฆ what year do you believe it is?โ
Y/N frowned slightly.
โ2016.โ
The silence that followed stretched much longer this time.
Y/N could hear quiet voices again in the background, but the man didnโt respond immediately. Instead it sounded like he was speaking with several other people before returning to the microphone.
When he finally spoke again, his tone had changed.
โItโs currently 2026.โ
Y/N stared at the console.
The numbers didnโt make sense.
For a moment she wondered if she had misheard him through the static.
โThis transmission is experiencing interference.โ
Her voice sounded calm, but her fingers tightened slightly against the edge of the console.
โPlease repeat the year.โ
โ2026.โ
The answer came immediately this time.
The quiet inside the cabin deepened.
Y/N looked toward the navigation display again as if the orbit readings might somehow contradict what she had just heard. The screen showed the same stable trajectory around Earth that it had displayed earlier. All of the onboard clocks still matched the mission timeline she had been following since launch.
Nothing about the spacecraft suggested ten years had passed.
โThatโs not possible.โ
The man didnโt argue.
Instead he asked another question.
โCan you confirm the last communication you received from Avernia Ground Control?โ
Y/N tried to think back.
โThe last confirmed transmission occurred shortly before the anomaly event. Ground control reported stable mission status.โ
Another quiet conversation seemed to happen on the other end of the line before the man spoke again.
His voice sounded softer now.
โAsteria-1โฆ according to international records, your spacecraft disappeared shortly after launch.โ
Y/Nโs stomach twisted slightly.
โThatโs incorrect.โ
โWe have no recorded transmissions after the initial launch window.โ
Y/N stared at the dark window beside the console.
The stars outside seemed impossibly distant.
Her mind tried to process the information, but it refused to fit together logically. She remembered speaking to the mission team several times after reaching orbit. She had performed experiments, logged data, reported system checks.
Those conversations had happened.
They had to have happened.
โThere must be a mistake in your records.โ
The man didnโt respond immediately.
When he did speak again, his voice sounded careful.
โAsteria-1, we are currently verifying several things.โ
Y/N waited quietly while he continued.
โFor now, we need you to remain in your current orbit.โ
โWhy?โ
Another pause followed.
The background voices returned again, quieter this time.
Then the man spoke again, his tone more official than before.
โYou must remain in space for the time being.โ
Y/Nโs grip tightened slightly on the console.
โExplain.โ
The silence that followed felt heavy.
When the man finally spoke again, his words were measured.
โThe country that launched your mission no longer exists.โ
The hours after the anomaly passed slowly. Y/N kept herself busy moving between the control console and the observation window, checking every system she could think of while she waited for Avernia Ground Control to respond. The spacecraft itself seemed perfectly stable. Power levels remained consistent, oxygen flow was normal, and the navigation system continued tracking the same orbit it had followed since launch. Nothing in the diagnostic panels suggested damage or malfunction, which only made the silence from Earth feel more unsettling. If the systems were functioning correctly, then someone back home should have been able to hear her.
She floated back toward the communication console and adjusted the transmission frequency again. The small cabin lights reflected faintly across the control screens while she worked, casting pale glows over the narrow interior of the spacecraft. Everything looked exactly as it had earlier in the mission. The equipment hummed softly around her, filling the quiet with the steady background noise she had grown used to during the first few days in orbit.
Still, the headset remained silent.
Y/N pressed the transmit switch once more, keeping her voice steady even though the situation was beginning to feel strange.
โAvernia Ground Control, this is Asteria-1 requesting signal confirmation.โ
Static answered her.
The faint crackle faded after a few seconds, leaving nothing behind but the hum of the spacecraftโs life support system. Y/N watched the communication panel for a moment longer before releasing the transmit button. Signal interruptions were normal during orbital passes, especially when the spacecraft moved beyond the direct range of the primary antenna stations. Normally the connection returned quickly once the craft moved back into position.
This time, it didnโt.
Another hour passed while she attempted several different frequencies. Each attempt produced the same empty result. The silence inside the cabin grew heavier with each failed transmission, pressing into the small space around her in a way she hadnโt noticed earlier in the mission.
Eventually she tried one of the broader emergency channels used by international monitoring networks. It wasnโt meant to replace direct mission control, but those channels were constantly scanning for signals from spacecraft and satellites around the planet. If Avernia couldnโt hear her for some reason, there was a chance another station might pick up the transmission.
She adjusted the output power slightly and leaned toward the microphone.
โThis is Asteria-1 broadcasting on emergency channel frequency. If anyone can hear this transmission, please respond.โ
For several seconds nothing happened.
Then the static in her headset shifted.
A faint sound pushed through the interference, barely audible at first. Y/N straightened immediately, her hand tightening slightly around the edge of the console as she listened. It wasnโt clear enough to make out words yet, but it was definitely different from the empty static she had been hearing all night.
The voice on the other end sounded distant and distorted.
โโฆrepeatโฆ unidentified signal detectedโฆโ
Y/N leaned closer to the microphone.
โThis is astronaut Y/N aboard the Asteria-1 spacecraft. Please confirm you are receiving this transmission.โ
The static crackled again before the voice returned, a little clearer this time.
โโฆsignal origin unclearโฆ repeating identification requestโฆโ
Y/N frowned slightly. The response sounded confused, almost cautious, which wasnโt the reaction she expected from someone answering a standard spacecraft transmission.
โThis is the Asteria-1 mission launched from Avernia in 2016. Please confirm your station.โ
The voice disappeared for several seconds before returning again. This time it sounded more focused, as if the person speaking had moved closer to their equipment.
โRepeat that identification.โ
โThis is astronaut Y/N aboard Asteria-1, launched by the Avernia Space Agency.โ
Silence filled the line again, but this time it didnโt feel like a broken signal. Y/N could hear faint movement in the background of the transmissionโdistant voices, the shuffle of equipment, the low murmur of people speaking somewhere near the microphone. Whoever had picked up her signal clearly wasnโt alone.
She waited patiently, floating beside the console while the spacecraft drifted through orbit.
When the voice returned, it sounded steadier.
โUnidentified spacecraft, please confirm your launch date.โ
Y/N answered without hesitation.
โApril 12th, 2016.โ
Another pause followed, longer than the ones before it. The faint background voices became louder for a moment as if the person on the other end had turned away from the microphone to speak to someone else nearby. Y/N couldnโt make out the words, but the tone sounded surprised.
When the man finally spoke again, his voice carried a careful edge.
โCan you confirm your launch origin again?โ
โAvernia Space Agency orbital launch facility.โ
There was a quiet intake of breath on the other end of the line.
Y/N noticed it immediately.
The reaction made something cold settle slowly in her chest.
The man spoke again after another moment.
โStand by.โ
The transmission didnโt disconnect, but the manโs voice faded into the background again while he spoke to someone else at his station. Y/N could hear several different voices now, their words overlapping too much to understand clearly. The tone of the conversation sounded serious.
She remained still beside the console while she waited.
The cabin lights reflected softly off the metal panels surrounding her. Outside the observation window, the stars looked sharp and steady against the darkness of space. The Earth rotated slowly beneath the spacecraft, its atmosphere glowing faintly along the edge of the planet.
Everything outside looked normal.
Inside the cockpit, Y/N felt a growing sense that something was very wrong.
The voice returned a minute later.
โThis is the Pacific Orbital Monitoring Network. Please confirm again: you identify as the Asteria-1 mission?โ
Y/N blinked.
That wasnโt an Avernia station.
โYes. Thatโs correct.โ
Another pause.
Then the man spoke again, sounding more serious now.
โAsteria-1โฆ what year do you believe it is?โ
Y/N frowned slightly.
โ2016.โ
The silence that followed stretched much longer this time.
Y/N could hear quiet voices again in the background, but the man didnโt respond immediately. Instead it sounded like he was speaking with several other people before returning to the microphone.
When he finally spoke again, his tone had changed.
โItโs currently 2026.โ
Y/N stared at the console.
The numbers didnโt make sense.
For a moment she wondered if she had misheard him through the static.
โThis transmission is experiencing interference.โ
Her voice sounded calm, but her fingers tightened slightly against the edge of the console.
โPlease repeat the year.โ
โ2026.โ
The answer came immediately this time.
The quiet inside the cabin deepened.
Y/N looked toward the navigation display again as if the orbit readings might somehow contradict what she had just heard. The screen showed the same stable trajectory around Earth that it had displayed earlier. All of the onboard clocks still matched the mission timeline she had been following since launch.
Nothing about the spacecraft suggested ten years had passed.
โThatโs not possible.โ
The man didnโt argue.
Instead he asked another question.
โCan you confirm the last communication you received from Avernia Ground Control?โ
Y/N tried to think back.
โThe last confirmed transmission occurred shortly before the anomaly event. Ground control reported stable mission status.โ
Another quiet conversation seemed to happen on the other end of the line before the man spoke again.
His voice sounded softer now.
โAsteria-1โฆ according to international records, your spacecraft disappeared shortly after launch.โ
Y/Nโs stomach twisted slightly.
โThatโs incorrect.โ
โWe have no recorded transmissions after the initial launch window.โ
Y/N stared at the dark window beside the console.
The stars outside seemed impossibly distant.
Her mind tried to process the information, but it refused to fit together logically. She remembered speaking to the mission team several times after reaching orbit. She had performed experiments, logged data, reported system checks.
Those conversations had happened.
They had to have happened.
โThere must be a mistake in your records.โ
The man didnโt respond immediately.
When he did speak again, his voice sounded careful.
โAsteria-1, we are currently verifying several things.โ
Y/N waited quietly while he continued.
โFor now, we need you to remain in your current orbit.โ
โWhy?โ
Another pause followed.
The background voices returned again, quieter this time.
Then the man spoke again, his tone more official than before.
โYou must remain in space for the time being.โ
Y/Nโs grip tightened slightly on the console.
โExplain.โ
The silence that followed felt heavy.
When the man finally spoke again, his words were measured.
โThe country that launched your mission no longer exists.โ
The words stayed with her long after the transmission fell quiet again. Y/N remained near the communication console, her fingers resting lightly against the edge of the panel as if she might reach for the transmit switch at any moment. The hum of the spacecraft filled the silence, steady and unchanged, but everything else felt different now. The cabin that had once felt like a controlled, familiar environment now seemed too small, too still, like it was holding her in place while the rest of the world had moved on without her. Even the air felt heavier, not physically, but in a way she couldnโt quite explain, like every breath carried the weight of information she hadnโt been ready to hear.
She tried to make sense of what she had been told, but every thought led back to the same impossible conclusion. Ten years. The number didnโt fit into her understanding of time, of the mission, of reality itself. She had experienced only a few days in orbit. Her logs confirmed it, the onboard systems confirmed it, and her own memory insisted on it. There had been no long stretch of unconsciousness, no indication that time had passed differently for her. Everything had been continuous, every moment leading directly into the next without interruption.
Everything had been normal.
Except for the anomaly.
The thought circled back again and again, refusing to settle. That single momentโthe flicker on the radar, the distortion outside the window, the burst of lightโhad been the only thing out of place. And somehow, that had been enough to change everything. It had taken her out of her own time and dropped her into a future she didnโt belong to, a future that had erased everything she knew without giving her any chance to understand it.
Y/N pushed herself gently away from the console and drifted toward the observation window. The Earth turned slowly beneath her, unchanged in appearance, its atmosphere glowing faintly at the edges where sunlight met the curve of the planet. From this distance, nothing about it suggested loss or destruction. There were no visible signs of war, no evidence that an entire country had disappeared from the map. The oceans stretched endlessly, clouds drifting across continents in slow, graceful patterns.
But she knew that didnโt mean anything.
From space, everything always looked peaceful.
Her reflection stared back at her again through the glass, distorted slightly by the curve of the window and the faint lighting inside the cabin. The helmet framed her face, making her seem smaller somehow, more distant from the world she was looking at. It was strange, seeing herself like that, suspended between everything she had lost and everything she didnโt understand yet.
She swallowed slowly, her throat feeling dry despite the controlled environment.
Avernia was gone.
The thought didnโt fully settle in yet. It hovered just out of reach, like her mind refused to accept it completely. She had left behind people there. Engineers, technicians, instructors. Faces she had seen every day leading up to the launch. Voices she had spoken to only hoursโdaysโbefore everything changed. People who had watched her climb into the spacecraft, who had believed in the mission, who had trusted her to represent everything Avernia had worked toward.
Now they were part of something she couldnโt see anymore.
History.
The word felt too final, too distant, like it belonged in textbooks and records instead of her own life.
Y/N closed her eyes briefly, letting herself drift in place. She focused on the steady rhythm of her breathing, on the familiar sensation of weightlessness surrounding her body. Those things hadnโt changed. The spacecraft was still functioning. She was still alive. She was still here. Those were facts she could hold onto, even when everything else felt unstable.
That had to mean something.
Time passed without her noticing exactly how much. The concept of hours felt different now, stretched thin by everything she was trying to process. At some point, she drifted back toward the command seat, securing herself loosely in place as she stared at the navigation display. The orbit path continued its steady loop around the Earth, precise and unchanging. The onboard clock still tracked time based on the original mission parameters, counting seconds that no longer matched the world below.
It felt wrong, watching those numbers move forward as if nothing had happened.
A faint crackle from the headset broke the silence again, pulling her attention back toward the console. Y/N straightened immediately, her focus snapping back into place as she reached for the communication panel.
โAsteria-1, do you copy?โ
The same voice from before.
Y/N pressed the transmit switch without hesitation.
โI copy.โ
There was a brief pause on the other end, followed by a quieter exhale, as if the man had been waiting for that confirmation. The sound was subtle, but she noticed it anyway. It made the distance between them feel slightly smaller, like there was at least one person on Earth who understood that she was still here.
โWeโre still verifying your situation.โ
Y/Nโs grip tightened slightly on the console.
โThen verify it faster.โ
The words came out sharper than she intended, edged with frustration that had been building since the moment she first heard the year. She didnโt take them back, though. The tension inside her had nowhere else to go, and the silence that followed her attempts to understand what was happening only made it worse.
Another pause followed, but the man didnโt sound offended when he spoke again.
โWe understand this is difficult.โ
โYou donโt.โ
The response came more quietly this time, but it carried just as much weight. Y/N let out a slow breath afterward, forcing herself to steady her voice before continuing. She needed answers more than she needed to push the person on the other end of the line away.
โI need information.โ
โWeโre working on it.โ
โWhat happened to Avernia?โ
The question felt heavier than anything else she had said so far. It wasnโt just about the country itself. It was about everything connected to it, everything she had left behind without realizing she was leaving it for the last time.
There was a pause before the man answered. Y/N could hear faint background noise again, the low murmur of other voices filtering through the line as he seemed to confer with someone nearby. When he returned, his tone had shifted slightly, becoming more careful, more deliberate.
โThere was a conflict.โ
Y/Nโs chest tightened.
โWith who?โ
โA larger nation. The situation escalated quickly.โ
โHow quickly?โ
There was another pause, shorter this time, but still noticeable.
โWithin months.โ
The answer settled heavily in the space between them. Months. While she had been floating above the planet, following a routine that felt stable and controlled, everything below had been changing at a pace she couldnโt even imagine.
โWhat about evacuations?โ
โWe donโt have full records of civilian movement.โ
โAnd the space agency?โ
Another pause.
โDestroyed.โ
The word landed harder than the others. It wasnโt unexpected after everything else she had been told, but hearing it confirmed made it real in a way nothing else had yet. The place where she had trained, where she had prepared for this mission, where she had built relationships with people who believed in herโit was gone.
Y/Nโs fingers curled slightly against the edge of the panel, her nails pressing into the material of her gloves. She didnโt speak right away. There wasnโt anything she could say that would change what she had just heard.
The man continued after a moment, his voice quieter now.
โThere were attempts to preserve certain technologies and data, but most of Averniaโs infrastructure was lost during the conflict.โ
Y/N closed her eyes again briefly.
The training facilities.
The launch site.
The control rooms filled with voices she had trusted.
Gone.
She opened her eyes slowly, focusing on the display in front of her as if it might ground her in something stable.
โAnd no one tried to contact the spacecraft?โ
There was a hesitation before the answer came.
โThere were attempts.โ
โThen why didnโt I receive anything?โ
โWeโre still trying to understand that.โ
Y/N let out a slow breath, the frustration mixing with the confusion in a way that made it difficult to focus on any one emotion. Every answer seemed to create more questions, and none of them led to anything solid.
โWhat am I supposed to do now?โ
The question came out quieter this time, less sharp, more uncertain. It wasnโt something she had ever imagined needing to ask. The mission had always been structured, planned down to the smallest detail. There had always been a next step, a clear direction.
Now there wasnโt.
The response from the other end came more quickly than before.
โFor now, you maintain your current orbit.โ
โFor how long?โ
โUntil we can safely coordinate your return.โ
Y/N frowned slightly.
โWhatโs stopping me from returning now?โ
Another pause followed, but this one felt different. More deliberate, as if the man was choosing his words carefully.
When he spoke again, his voice carried a tone of explanation.
โYour spacecraftโs re-entry protocols were designed to align with Averniaโs recovery infrastructure.โ
Y/Nโs stomach dropped slightly as she understood what he meant.
โThe infrastructure doesnโt exist anymore.โ
โNot in its original form.โ
She looked down at the control panel, at the systems she had trusted completely when she launched. Everything had been built with a specific plan in mind. A specific landing sequence. A specific location. A place that had been prepared to receive her, to guide her safely back to Earth.
A place that was gone.
โWeโre coordinating with international agencies to create an alternative re-entry plan.โ
โHow long will that take?โ
โWe donโt have an exact timeline yet.โ
Y/N leaned back slightly, letting her head rest against the padded support of the seat behind her. The cabin lights cast a soft glow over the interior, making everything feel strangely calm despite the conversation she was having.
She stared at the ceiling for a moment before speaking again.
โSo I just stay up here.โ
โFor now.โ
The words echoed faintly in the small space.
Y/N let out a quiet breath.
โFor now,โ she repeated.
The transmission remained open for a while longer after that. The man asked her a series of technical questions, and Y/N answered them automatically, falling back into the structured responses she had practiced during training. Power levels, oxygen reserves, navigation stability, system diagnostics. Everything still worked exactly as it should, which was both reassuring and frustrating at the same time.
The spacecraft hadnโt failed her.
Time had.
Eventually, the questions slowed, and the manโs voice softened again.
โWeโll contact you as soon as we have more information.โ
Y/N nodded, even though he couldnโt see her.
โIโll be here.โ
There was a brief pause before the line went quiet again.
The silence returned, but it didnโt feel the same as before. It wasnโt empty anymore. It carried weight now, filled with everything she had learned and everything she still didnโt understand. It pressed into the edges of the cabin, settling into the spaces between the equipment and the walls.
Y/N unstrapped herself from the seat and drifted back toward the observation window. The Earth continued its slow rotation beneath her, unchanged and distant, as if nothing had happened at all. The clouds moved in soft patterns across the surface, oceans stretching endlessly beneath them.
She rested her gloved hand lightly against the glass.
Ten years.
The number still didnโt feel real.
But it was.
And somewhere down there, in a world that had moved forward without her, she would eventually have to find a place for herself again.
Time began to move differently after that.
It no longer felt like something steady and predictable, marked clearly by scheduled check-ins and routine tasks. Instead, it stretched and folded in ways Y/N couldnโt quite keep track of, slipping past her in long, quiet hours that blurred together. Without consistent communication from the ground, there were no clear markers to divide one day from the next beyond the slow rhythm of the spacecraftโs orbit and the steady ticking of the onboard clock, which no longer felt reliable.
She tried to maintain structure anyway.
It was the only thing that kept everything from feeling like it was drifting completely out of control.
Each cycle, she moved through the same tasks she had performed at the start of the mission. System checks. Data logs. Equipment maintenance. She spoke her reports out loud even when there was no one on the other end to hear them, her voice echoing faintly inside the helmet before dissolving into the quiet of the cabin. It helped, in a way. It made the space feel less empty, less detached.
But it didnโt change the fact that she was alone.
The Pacific Orbital Monitoring Network checked in with her periodically, though not as often as she would have liked. Sometimes the gap between transmissions felt too long, stretching into hours that made her wonder if something had gone wrong again. Every time the signal returned, she felt a brief sense of relief, followed immediately by the same unanswered questions that had been lingering since the first contact.
They were still working on her return.
They were still coordinating.
They still didnโt have a timeline.
The answers never changed.
Y/N adapted the best she could. She learned to fill the silence in ways that didnโt rely on external input, moving through the spacecraft with a familiarity that had deepened over time. Every panel, every switch, every narrow passage between sections of the cabin became second nature. She knew exactly how much force to use when pushing off a wall, exactly how to angle her body to move efficiently through the confined space without drifting too far.
It became routine.
Comforting, in a strange way.
Still, there were moments when the quiet pressed in too hard, when the absence of voices felt impossible to ignore. During those times, she found herself drifting toward the observation window more often, watching the Earth below as it turned slowly beneath her. It was the closest thing she had to connection, even if it was distant.
The world looked different now.
Not physically, at least not in ways she could see clearly from orbit, but there was a shift she couldnโt ignore. She knew that somewhere beneath those clouds, entire cities had changed. People had lived entire lives in the time she had been gone. Technologies had advanced. Cultures had shifted. Everything had continued moving forward without her, creating a version of the world she didnโt recognize.
It made the distance feel even greater.
Eventually, the updates from the ground began to change.
It happened gradually at first, subtle shifts in the tone of the conversations that suggested progress was being made. The man she had been speaking toโwhose name she eventually learned was Danielโbegan to ask more specific questions about the spacecraftโs re-entry capabilities. The discussions became more detailed, more focused on logistics rather than uncertainty.
It was the first real sign that something was moving forward.
During one of the transmissions, his voice carried a slight edge of something new.
โWeโve established a preliminary re-entry plan.โ
Y/N straightened immediately, her attention sharpening as she reached for the console.
โDefine preliminary.โ
โWeโre coordinating with multiple agencies to create a safe landing zone.โ
โWhere?โ
โStill being finalized.โ
Y/N exhaled slowly, the familiar frustration flickering beneath the surface again.
โYou said preliminary.โ
โIt is. We have viable options.โ
โThatโs not the same thing as a plan.โ
There was a brief pause on the other end before Daniel responded, his tone steady.
โItโs progress.โ
Y/N didnโt argue with that.
It was.
Even if it didnโt feel like enough yet.
The conversations continued like that over the next several cycles, each one adding small pieces to a larger picture that was slowly beginning to form. The re-entry process would need to be adjusted to account for the loss of Averniaโs infrastructure. New coordinates would need to be programmed into the system. External guidance would be provided during descent to compensate for the missing support network that had originally been designed to assist her.
It was complicated.
But it was possible.
That was what mattered.
Y/N spent hours reviewing the updated procedures, committing every detail to memory as she prepared for something she hadnโt been sure would ever happen. The idea of returning to Earth felt both familiar and completely foreign at the same time. She had trained for it, expected it, planned for it from the very beginning.
But not like this.
Not in a world that had changed so completely without her.
The day the final confirmation came felt different from the moment it started. Y/N noticed it immediately, even before the transmission reached her. There was a tension in the air, a subtle shift in her own awareness that made it impossible to focus on anything else.
When the signal finally came through, she was already at the console.
โAsteria-1, this is Pacific Orbital Monitoring. Do you copy?โ
โI copy.โ
There was a brief pause before Danielโs voice followed.
โWeโre ready to proceed with re-entry.โ
The words settled into the space between them, carrying more weight than anything he had said before.
Y/Nโs grip tightened slightly on the controls.
โConfirm.โ
โRe-entry window is set. Coordinates have been uploaded to your navigation system.โ
She glanced at the display, watching as new data populated the screen.
โLanding zone?โ
โPacific Ocean recovery.โ
Y/N blinked.
โOcean?โ
โItโs the safest option given the circumstances.โ
She processed that quickly, adjusting her expectations without hesitation. It wasnโt what she had originally trained for, but it made sense. Without a prepared landing facility, a controlled ocean descent offered the most flexibility.
โRecovery team?โ
โAlready in position.โ
Y/N let out a slow breath, feeling something shift inside her as the reality of the situation settled in.
This was happening.
โTimeline?โ
โRe-entry begins in six hours.โ
Six hours.
The number felt both too short and too long at the same time.
โUnderstood.โ
The line remained open as Daniel began walking her through the updated procedures, his voice steady and precise as he outlined each step she would need to follow. Y/N listened carefully, responding when necessary, her focus locked onto the process in a way that pushed everything else to the edges of her mind.
This was something she knew.
Something she could control.
That mattered.
The next six hours passed in a blur of preparation. Y/N moved through the spacecraft with purpose, securing equipment, double-checking systems, running through each step of the sequence until it felt automatic. Every movement was deliberate, every action grounded in training that now felt more important than ever.
There was no room for hesitation.
No room for doubt.
When the time finally came, she strapped herself into the command seat, securing the harness tightly across her chest as the navigation system guided the spacecraft into position. The Earth filled more of the observation window now, its surface growing closer with each passing second.
Her heartbeat picked up, steady but strong.
Not fear.
Focus.
The communication line crackled softly as Danielโs voice returned.
โAsteria-1, you are clear to begin re-entry sequence.โ
Y/Nโs fingers hovered over the controls for a fraction of a second before she responded.
โBeginning re-entry.โ
The command sequence initiated immediately, the spacecraft adjusting its trajectory as it prepared to descend through the atmosphere. Outside the window, the darkness of space began to shift, the faint glow of the atmosphere growing brighter as they moved closer.
Everything was happening exactly as it should.
The initial stages passed smoothly, the systems responding to each command with precision. Y/N monitored the readings closely, her attention fixed on the displays as the spacecraft continued its descent.
Then the heat began to build.
The exterior of the craft glowed faintly at first, a soft shimmer of light that quickly intensified as friction increased. The temperature readings climbed steadily, but remained within expected parameters.
Y/N kept her focus steady, her breathing controlled as she followed each step of the sequence.
โAsteria-1, you are on track.โ
โI copy.โ
The atmosphere pressed harder against the spacecraft as it descended, the forces building in a way that reminded her of launch, but different. Heavier. More sustained. The vibrations increased, rattling through the structure as the craft pushed through layers of air that had once felt impossibly far away.
The glow outside the window brightened, shifting into streaks of light that blurred past too quickly to follow.
Still, everything held.
Everything worked.
Minutes passed.
Thenโ
The vibrations began to ease.
The brightness outside the window faded gradually, replaced by the soft blue of the sky. Clouds came into view, stretching endlessly across the horizon as the spacecraft continued its controlled descent.
Y/Nโs grip on the controls loosened slightly.
They had made it through.
The final stages of the descent moved quickly after that. The parachutes deployed as expected, slowing the spacecraftโs fall as it approached the surface of the ocean below. The water stretched out beneath her, calm and endless, reflecting the sky in a way that felt almost unreal after everything she had experienced.
Then the impact came.
It was strong, but controlled, the spacecraft hitting the water with a force that jolted through the cabin before settling into a steady float. Y/N exhaled sharply, her body relaxing slightly against the harness as the systems stabilized around her.
For a moment, everything was still.
Then Danielโs voice came through the headset again, clearer than it had ever sounded before.
โAsteria-1, welcome back to Earth.โ
Y/N closed her eyes briefly, letting the words settle.
She was back.
Ten years too late.
But back.
โหเฟ
love, indi โก
My queen
So the creator titled this "Caveman Cooking," but I have decided that it is Grug the Orc making Peanut Butter Squares. Link to original post.
Sound on. Trust me.

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.
Free to watch โข No registration required โข HD streaming
found a snake on youtube that legit gets angry and strikes at its owner's laptop whenever markiplier is on the screen
Iโm subscribed to that channel. The owner has played multiple other YouTubers to see if the snake just hated Markiplier or was just hostile towards men. Turns out he was fine watching all the other YouTubers he just hated Markiplier specifically ๐
The snake with other YouTubers:
Vs the snake with Markiplier
Tofu the snake! the owner has been running several various experiments based on people's thoughts/theories in the comments, like showing an edited image of Mark (it took Tofu a few minutes to recognize him, but once they did they immediately started trying to attack him) and even bringing in other snakes to see if they react too (none did). so far the consensus is that Tofu just really fucking hates Markiplier
Happy International Women's Day
old zoemira sketch
Your bones are held together by your nightmares and your frights ๐ซต

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.
Free to watch โข No registration required โข HD streaming
โshe felt like a kebabโ goes so hard ๐ญ
"I can't tell if OP is doing a wildly bad faith reading of a sentiment I'm familiar with or if there's a corner of this website that is completely insane in a way that I am not personally privy to" is such a classic tumblr feeling isn't it. Like it really could be anything

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.
Free to watch โข No registration required โข HD streaming
๐๐๐๐พ ๐๐๐๐๐พ๐ผ๐๐๐ (๐ฝ๐บ๐๐๐พ๐ ๐บ ๐บ๐๐บ๐๐๐๐๐ ๐ ๐๐พ๐บ๐ฝ๐พ๐) [สแด-แดแดสแดแดแด ]
"๐ข๐ฎ ๐ช ๐จ๐ถ๐ช๐ญ๐ต๐บ? ๐ข๐ฎ ๐ช ๐ด๐ฐ๐ณ๐ณ๐บ? ๐ฅ๐ฐ ๐ช ๐ฎ๐ช๐ด๐ด ๐บ๐ฐ๐ถ ๐ข๐ต ๐ต๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐ฑ๐ข๐ณ๐ต๐บ? ๐ข๐ฎ ๐ช ๐ฅ๐ณ๐ข๐จ๐จ๐ช๐ฏ๐จ ๐ต๐ฉ๐ช๐ด ๐ง๐ฐ๐ณ๐ฆ๐ท๐ฆ๐ณ?"
๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐: ๐๐๐พ ๐๐๐๐ ๐บ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐'๐๐พ ๐ฟ๐๐๐๐ฝ ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐ ๐ฝ๐๐๐พ๐บ๐๐พ ๐บ๐๐พ ๐บ๐ ๐ ๐๐๐พ ๐๐บ๐๐ฝ๐๐ ๐๐พ๐๐๐ ๐พ ๐๐๐ ๐ฝ๐พ๐ผ๐๐ฝ๐พ ๐๐ ๐ผ๐๐พ๐ผ๐ ๐๐ ๐๐๐. ๐๐๐๐พ๐๐พ๐, ๐๐๐พ๐ ๐๐๐๐ ๐พ๐ ๐๐พ๐บ๐๐ ๐๐๐พ ๐๐พ๐๐ ๐๐๐บ๐ ๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐ ๐ป๐พ "๐ฝ๐๐๐๐," ๐๐๐'๐๐พ ๐๐ ๐ฟ๐๐ ๐๐๐ผ๐ ๐๐๐๐พ ๐๐๐บ๐ ๐๐๐บ๐ ๐๐๐ ๐ป๐บ๐๐๐บ๐๐๐พ๐ฝ ๐ฟ๐๐. ๐๐บ๐๐: ๐๐พ๐บ๐๐ ๐บ๐๐๐๐, ๐ฟ๐ ๐๐ฟ๐ฟ, ๐๐ฝ๐๐ !๐ฝ๐บ๐๐๐พ๐ ๐บ, ๐พ๐๐๐บ๐ป๐ ๐๐๐๐พ๐ฝ ๐พ๐๐พ๐, ๐๐พ๐บ๐ฝ๐พ๐ ๐๐บ๐ ๐บ ๐๐พ๐ฝ๐๐ผ๐บ๐ ๐ผ๐๐๐ฝ๐๐๐๐๐. ๐ฟ๐: ๐ ๐๐บ ๐ฟ๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐ ๐บ๐: ๐๐๐๐ ๐๐ ๐๐๐ ๐บ ๐ฑ๐ค๐ ๐ซ ๐๐๐๐๐๐บ๐๐บ๐ ๐๐ฟ ๐๐๐พ ๐๐พ๐๐๐ ๐พ ๐๐พ๐๐๐๐๐๐พ๐ฝ ๐๐ ๐๐๐๐ ๐ฟ๐๐ผ. ๐บ๐ ๐ ๐พ๐๐พ๐๐๐ ๐บ๐๐พ ๐ฟ๐๐ผ๐๐๐๐๐บ๐ ๐บ๐๐ฝ ๐บ๐๐พ ๐ฟ๐๐ ๐พ๐๐๐พ๐๐๐บ๐๐๐๐พ๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐พ๐ ๐๐๐ ๐. ๐ข๐ถ: ๐๐๐พ๐บ๐๐๐๐, ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐, ๐๐ ๐๐๐๐ ๐ฝ๐๐๐ ๐๐๐พ, ๐๐ ๐๐๐๐ ๐ฝ๐พ๐๐ผ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐ฟ ๐๐บ๐๐ ๐ฝ๐๐พ ๐๐ ๐๐พ๐ฝ๐๐ผ๐บ๐ ๐ผ๐๐๐ฝ๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐ผ: ๐ฃ๐ค๐+
โท ษดแดแดก แดสแดสษชษดษข: ๊ฑแดแดแด แดสแดแดแดแดแดแดส - สแดสแดแดแดแด แดส
At the end of the day, I truly just feel horrible for the USA womenโs hockey team, who were reduced to a joke by the president of the very country they won a gold medal for and whose anthem they sang proudly with American flags draped around their shoulders. Who were laughed at by their fellow Olympians and hockey players. Who have worked just as hard (if not harder) than the men to get to the point, because after the last Winter Olympics, many of them didnโt even know if they would be able to continue playing professional hockey on account of being women!
But I am so fucking proud of them and I refuse to let their win be overshadowed by this absolute garbage. They are gold medalists and always will be!
The womenโs team has accepted Flavor Flavโs invitation to celebrate with him in Vegas ๐ฅณ