#mcgnificat

perched on the edge of ellie’s bed, as obnoxiously bright and warm as the afternoon sun, christine doesn’t make the best alarm clock. she doesn’t try waking up ellie by slowly turning on the lights, mimicking the pattern of the rising sun, making the room warmer incrementally until her body feels ready to get on with the day. she could, she recommends her patients to program the environmental controls of their rooms to mimic their planet’s day. it is the best way to wake up.

it is not, however, the quickest way to wake up. and this morning (what others might still consider night) christine is going for speed, not gentleness. the room’s lights turned up the maximum, and her voice resembles a more general’s command than a hummingbird’s chirp.

❛     yeah. it’s five thirty in the morning. we’re already late. shore leave started 5 am, and i let you sleep in for thirty minutes. get dressed. chop chop. time is a-wasting.     ❜     she says tugging the blankets away from ellie.

@mcgnificat​ // sam kirk starter call

“Have you ever been to an Edosian concert? Wild. They might not have as many fingers as we do, but some of their instruments are completely unusable by anyone with two arms.”

❀   ||   please don't let me go down, down   ||   feat.  @mcgnificat​

❀   ||   she’s made of more than your flesh  &&  blood,  she’s made from your very soul  ||  feat.  @mcgnificat​​

@mcgnificat​   didn’t  send    🌻    for   an   aesthetic   for   our   muses  but   that’s   never   stopped   me   before.   (  © / ©  )

Send 🌼 to put a flower in my muse's hair!

when girl was much smaller, maeve had spent plenty of their summers teaching her the exact science of building a crown worthy of such a little princess. it was an art form like any other && little girl had always been drawn to anything that can be labelled as creation. these days daughter is old enough to occupy herself, darting around garden as mother reads and rae finds the right kind of stick to make best sword, keeping maeve’s attention too torn between too many things to ever truly focus.

it shouldn’t be charming. in fact, christine is sure she once described pun humor as the lowest form of comedy after an excruciating date with a first officer from a passing ship who retorted to each thing the waiter said with a pun, and when she failed to react to it, would say ‘i think i deserve some credit on that’ with a smile that was supposed to be self-depreciating, but only made her want to throw up. and still, with all that baggage, and the fact her position on whether puns are good or not remains unchanged, she is like a schoolgirl with a crush — giggling at ellie, eyes falling to the floor to hide the width of her besotted smile.

❛⠀⠀⠀that explains it... ⠀ ⠀ ❜⠀

christine struggles to articulate a response, jaw hanging loose as she stares helplessly at ellie, unsure if she should laugh or leave this table immediately. she's argued before her peers, faced unyielding opposition from older scientists who refused to listen to a young blonde girl, and held firm in front of doctors to advocate for her patients. not to mention, she's always had a talent for sneaking in the last word in a conversation, a clever quip always hiding at the back of her tongue.

not today.

❛⠀⠀⠀i sort of hate you right now.⠀ ⠀ ❜⠀ ⠀ she finally mumbles, curling her hands into fists in front of her chest, still lost.