Seeing This Genii Guy Pop Up In All These DS9 Memes Is Giving Me Anxiety. I Haven't Even Watched DS9

AND ONE MORE THING.

5 years ago the internet told me that turkeys don't lay eggs for more than a month...that was an inaccurate assessment D=

100%

lesbian situationship break-ups on the voyager must have been lethal

Snippet from my newbie that will start hitting AO3 in the next month or so

“I had to scuttle Hood today.” Michael exhaled, the heel of her palm digging into her forehead. She remembered the way Tilly had sounded in her call earlier that day. Broken. Hollow. That intractable optimism she’d tried so hard to hold onto when serving on Discovery was distant now, worn thin and feeble over time, every transmission more defeated than the last. Michael hadn’t wanted to give her up, hadn’t wanted to send her away. She worried for her, for the things that could happen now, the things beyond her control. But Starfleet was desperate for another captain–for someone brilliant and stubborn like Tilly, who wouldn’t mind the oldest, shittiest end of the Starfleet stick. The only vessel to survive the attack on the museum. The only one not connected to the core at the time. The only one Control hadn’t even tried to take, to corrupt or destroy, because she was just too goddamned old. But Franklin could fly, and that was all that mattered. If anyone could keep her alive in this kind of fight, it was Tilly.

Fandom: Star Trek: Discovery

Rating: Mature

Relationships: Michael Burnham / Airiam, Michael Burnham / Control, Michael Burnham / Nhan

Synopsis:

Three years after the attack on Section 31 Headquarters, Starfleet and the Federation are on the brink. Planet after planet is falling to Control, every attack more devastating than the last. There are no patterns, no viable solutions to stop the carnage, and with their resources dwindling, the last Federation starships are at risk of being corrupted themselves.

But when the USS Discovery begins receiving encrypted transmissions from someone claiming to be Starfleet who seems to know everything about their enemy, Captain Michael Burnham is forced to decide whether their new source is truly an ally–or if Control is luring the Federation’s last bastion of hope into a trap.

The only time I've ever spent a full day scrounging the internet to collect all 15 books was for Taylor Anderson's Destroyermen series. I cannot recommend these enough. I still have yet to read the first of the spinoff Artillerymen series, but if you need a SciFi/twisted history series to get lost in--this guy's books are it.

Star Trek: Voyager, J/7: The Measure of Logic - Chapter 8 Posted

https://archiveofourown.org/works/62063797/chapters/162054352

Fandoms: Star Trek: Voyager x Star Trek: Discovery

Relationship: Kathryn Janeway / Seven of Nine

Rating: Mature

Synopsis:

After Captain Janeway contracts an illness during an expedition to an uninhabited planet and orders USS Voyager to leave her behind, a certain hardheaded Astrometrics officer isn't so keen on abandoning her Captain. As Janeway and Seven learn to navigate the strange new dynamic forming between them, it becomes apparent that the planet they now call home has a much deeper story to tell--one that seems to defy logic, reality, and even the natural order of time itself. ----- This is a standalone fic but can be read as additional worldbuilding to my "For the Optics" series. Timeline runs about a year prior to the events of "A Binding of Stars."

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.

It was never an option... [The Measure of Logic: J/7]

Another snippet from "The Measure of Logic."

Janeway didn’t need protection–she’d never needed that–but Seven couldn’t overlook her own compulsion to provide it. Perhaps it was a desire for control–an affinity the likes of which the blonde knew both women shared. Perhaps it was merely an aversion to the sense of abandonment she’d foolishly allowed to creep into her system from the first time Tuvok had implored that Voyager leave her Captain behind. That same fear, compounded when she’d learned that Janeway had agreed, had all but sent Seven of Nine tumbling over the precipice of a neurosis she had never known to exist before then. It was never an option to leave the Captain alone on the planet. The concept was incomprehensible, Voyager’s plans advancing into a foreign, unintelligible language that even the Borg could not have successfully translated.

Coffee is a godsend.

Another Snippet from The Ithaca Mandate

Why did you do this to her? Judith begged of the ship. Why now, after everything she’s done for us? Ithaca remained still, more silent than she’d ever been. The Commander's gaze met hers through the window, and Judith’s heart fractured. The possibility of Lyris’ end, the idea that she might actually be mortal, was simply too devastating to comprehend. If even she could fall, what hope was there for the rest of them? “I’ll come back for you,” Judith choked out, her voice barely a whisper. But even as she made her promise, even as she righted herself and took off for the nearest transporter, Judith wondered if there would even be anything left of the Commander, of the life that had always so fiercely refused to be extinguished, to come back to.

b'elanna and kes look like a lesbian couple lecturing the other parents at a pta dinner about the dangers of book-banning and the lack of vegetarian options in the school lunches. b'elanna does the lecturing. kes has already slipped laxatives into an obnoxious dad's soup.