Seasons In NY Have Even Less Of An Attention Span Than I Do. Will It Be Winter? Spring? Is That My Horse

Me reading anything anyone has written about Airiam. Also people commenting about what I write about Airiam 🙃

When a fic doesn’t fit my head canons but it’s well-written

Wait what??? If this is true it makes me EVEN MORE ANGRY AHHHHH

I’m still mad they confirmed Regina is bisexual only when the show was over and for nothing. Like they didn’t want Swanqueen we get it but they could have explored Regina/Maleficent relationship in the past, or put Roni with a woman. We all know Lana wouldn’t have say no. Cowards

I am so uncertain what's even going on here but I love it.

Kelpien Folklore Snippet from Subversion Theory's Upcoming Chapter

“The elders taught us that Hell was a moon that fell into the sea. For seven days the water boiled, and when it finally cooled, the tides carried the moon back to the shore as stones. When the first Kelpiens left the sea and walked upon the shore, the stones cut their feet and they bled. So they fashioned hard soles to walk over the stones, but the stones lodged in the tread and were carried across the world. "Now we say, ‘One cannot know the peace of soft earth if they have never walked upon sharp stones. And if ever you walk with light feet, pray it is not that the stones have been lost, but that you have learned how to carry them.’”

“People are staring,” Judith choked out, her mouth going dry. “Forget about them,” Lyris replied, steering Judith's head back to her shoulder. “You say that like it’s easy,” Judith muttered, even as she felt herself falling back into the strange safety of the embrace. “It’s hard not to wonder what they’re seeing.” “You're beautiful, and I’m different,” Lyris said, sounding more terse this time. The gruff timbre of her voice rumbled through every point of contact, a formidable cadence that suggested she wasn’t entirely unaffected by Judith’s admission. “They're going to stare because they don't understand.”

Snippet from The Ithaca Mandate

“How long?” Judith asked, hugging her arms against her ribs. She shivered slightly, the chill of the open space seeping into her. “How long until…?” The question ground to a halt, and no amount of will could force it into the air. How long until we’re gone? She could hear it in her mind. She could see it in the gaunt lines of her reflection. The bones of her cheeks and shoulders pushed out against her skin and the thin fabric of her undershirt, her brown eyes framed in dark crescents–fault lines and shadows where there should have been rolling hills and light. Judith scrubbed a hand across her face, like she could wipe that terrible, broken reflection away. Beneath them, Ithaca creaked and trembled as if even the leviathan herself was afraid of what it meant to die. Rage boiled to the surface, at the great, suffering beast still clinging to her perverse, miserable excuse of a life and her demands she not die alone. How long until you finally let us go?

Another Snippet from The Farm at Wardenwood Hollow

“Hey,” Taryn called as the door groaned open. The woman looked over her shoulder, her expression back to the familiar one of worry it always wore. Taryn walked up while she climbed into the truck, leaning an arm against the top of the door. She used her chin to gesture at the back seat. “You the only one we got here that buys that powder.”

In the seat, the woman tensed. She didn’t speak right away, and the gaze she fixed on Taryn made her believe she’d just asked something very, very wrong.

“You best be glad ‘bout that,” she told Taryn finally. The way her voice had gone low left her uneasy. “In fact,” she added, face more serious than Taryn had ever seen it, “if you notice anyone else start buyin’ it–you let me know. Y’hear?”

Taryn looked at her strangely and chuckled.

“I ain’t the sort to go ‘round discussin’ people’s purchases with others, Miss,” she said.

“I said you let me know.”

The grin faded from Taryn’s face, and she pushed back off the door frame.

“You’re serious, ain’t you?” she asked, eyeing her.

The woman stared for a couple seconds, then pulled the door shut with a clank. The truck roared to life and she leaned toward the passenger side, rummaging through the glove box for a moment. The window rolled down, and before Taryn realized what was happening, she’d thrust a business card into her hand.

“That’s my phone number,” she explained, eyes flicking to the card and back to Taryn’s. She nodded at it. “It’s a landline. Only way you gon’ reach me. Leave a message if I don’t answer. Keep callin’ and leavin’ ‘em ‘til I call back.”

Taryn’s mouth opened and closed a few times, confused and troubled by the odd exchange. She blinked down at the card. She recognized the name of the farm.

When she looked back up, the woman was still watching her.

“You tol’ me last week you don’t gotta drive far,” she said, narrowing her eyes. She held up the card. “But this is the ol’ Sterling place. That’s thirty miles from here.”

“Don’t you worry ‘bout that,” the woman warned, shaking her head and dropping the truck into gear.

“‘Bout your lyin’, you mean?” Taryn asked with a frown.

“Ain’t important.”

“You lyin’ ‘bout something small like that sure make it seem important.”

“You just worry ‘bout that powder, an’ tellin’ me if it ain’t me buyin’ it.”

Taryn held her gaze, then shrugged and shoved the card into her jacket pocket.

“Fine,” she said, tugging her beanie lower on her head. “I don’t know what you on about, but if I see anyone else buyin’ it, I’ll give you a call.” She pulled a face, wondering if she’d misinterpreted the woman’s nature and questioning if she just might, in fact, be crazy.

“You promise?”

The way she asked it–quieter again, and very worried–gave Taryn pause. Her own face softened at the edges, and she nodded.

“Sure, Miss,” she told her, smiling again. “Yeah. I promise.”

“You keep your promises?”

“Sure do,” Taryn said with a stern nod, almost offended by the implication she wouldn't.

“Good.”

Taryn chuckled again, stepping back.

“You drive safe, now,” she said.

“I will,” the woman replied. Then, with a smirk of her own, “That’s a promise.”

-----

Synopsis:

Taryn Monroe prefers simplicity–her place in the mountains, the predictable rhythm of her job at the mill, and the peace that comes with keeping to herself.

Every Tuesday, a woman shows up at precisely fifteen minutes to close. Taryn doesn’t know much about her–just the rumble of her truck, the way she never wastes words, and the peculiar gallon of sulfur she buys each week.

Then one Tuesday, she doesn’t show up.

Taryn tells herself to leave it alone, that it’s not her business and the woman can handle herself. But when she overhears an argument and starts asking questions, she can’t shake the feeling that something is wrong–and her life becomes anything but simple.

Something wild is living in the barn at Wardenwood Hollow. Something keeping the woman bound to the old Sterling farm.

And Taryn may be her only chance to break free.

Truer words have never been written!

"And fuckin' up motherfuckers is my game."

Late to the party

Finally got myself a tumblr. Finally posted on tumblr...mostly because everyone else on AO3 has a tumblr.

Does this mean I know how to use it?

Of course not ^^

I write fanfiction, mainly Star Trek, femslash, and for some reason, cyborgs are the thing I can write about lately.

Benefits of forming healthy relationships in a small town: Mechanic gives you a ride home so you don't have to wait 4 hours for your wheel bearings the next morning 🥹❤️