#i guess.jpg
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would you love me more if i killed someone for you?
(couldn't help but color the w!master and gill! doctor sketch immediately. it's 2 am now oh god)
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yeein their haws dangerously close to a campfire
full spice on my patreon
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Jumping on the Black Friday / Small Business Saturday / Cyber Monday train (with some extra days thrown in because sometimes your paycheck hasn't come in yet, you know??).
Check your favorite online retailer, the e-books of these two titles are on sale for $0.99! [Some retailers may take longer for the sale to show as active than others, so please check back if yours isn't showing it yet.]
WELCOME TO THE SHOW is a polyamorous romance about a celebrity couple in an open relationship who finds a third they want to keep, and their struggles to make that work with their own mental health and the weird tightrope of having careers as openly queer entertainers. Set in 2012 because I originally wrote it in 2012 and it needed some of the trappings of the time to make it work. High heat; if you like on-page sex scenes, this one's for you.
STARS STILL FALL is a Southern Gothic style novella about Lilly, a young woman in rural Alabama in 1995 who is dealing with long-term PTSD after the death of her family in a car wreck that only she survived. She's taken refuge with her late brother's best friend, but the stability of her existence is threatened when his infamous ex-girlfriend, Jolene, comes back to town. But all is not well in Jolene's life, either, and she and Lilly find an unexpected bond in helping each other survive. Heat level: Very low. No on-page sex, a couple of vague references and one kiss.
#black friday sale#black friday deals#i guess.jpg#queer fiction#lgbt books#wlw fiction#polyamorous romance#polyamory in fiction#queering the south
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i don't know what the hell i spent so much time taking drugs for when i can get nearly the same effect with sleep deprivation
#personal#i think two unhinged episodes of star trek may have helped but i bet i would have found them more hinged if i had had more sleep#star trek blogging#tng lb#i guess.jpg
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I am, if nothing, a predictable bitch:
Solavellan + Basorexia - An overwhelming desire to kiss
Thank you <3 <3 <3
I wanted to do a Solas POV of Ch 79: Halam'shivanas. I don't know if it's really turned out the way I wanted for an official Solas POV of that moment, but regardless -- here it is.
Art by @artharakka:
Their path out from the camp into the fields had zigged and zagged as they both stumbled in the faint starlight, and he had thought several times now that they should turn back and turn in, before they truly lost their senses. Or, really, before he lost the last of his already fragile inhibitions. The warmth in her understanding eyes was potent, as intoxicating as the whiskey they had shared around the fire.
Solas knew, in some part of himself, that the moment she sat down in the grass to remove the Ardent Blossoms from her hair, he had met his undoing. It was only a matter of time.
The Dalish liquor was thick on her tongue, slurring her words and weighing down her eyelids with sleep, and Solas himself was not far behind. He could not stop himself from joining her on the ground, brushing his fingers against hers as he took the stone flowers from her hands. She did not even need to look at him, for her touch, her consideration, warmed him as much as the liquor had.
He craved that touch, and the warmth and understanding behind it, to thaw the sharp grief that still made every breath a chore in this hollow world.
And so Solas began to speak.
He had convinced himself for so long that her platitudes and pleas should carry no weight in his mind, for she did not truly understand what was at stake. He had told her that she did not know what she asked, when she begged him to tell her what haunted him.
He could not bear for her to look at him, speak to him, with such earnest compassion when he had only told her half the truth. The core of it, to be fair, but not its consequence. He wanted her to understand, and to look at him this way, but he would only accept it if she knew.
In this moment—be it one of weakness, or one of rare strength—he divested himself of any such excuses.
Solas spoke, and he told her the terrible truth.
At first, he took her silence, her stare, as one of shock certain to bleed into terror, or disgust. But none came. Her eyes glittered with focus as she returned his wary look with one of intense focus. More truths poured out of him, ugly in their cruelty: his dismissal of this world, the people in it, and how even now that he saw their value he still weighed it against the people he had lost and found them lacking.
She drank in his offering without fear, without judgment, barely blinking as tears filled her eyes. And he thought that perhaps that was a gift, albeit a simple one. But the moment she began to speak, the Ardent Blossoms clutched tight in her hands, he realized how vastly he continued to underestimate her. Truly, he had been wrong from the start. She had only ever been speaking to him—to the shadows that haunted them both. She had not needed to know, to specify, to equivocate, the difference between Solas and Fen'Harel.
He watched her lips as she told him a story, and every word only made him long to close the distance between them and embrace her. She had been asking, "Do you hear me now?" for so long, but only now did he understand.
"‘It was the last of its kind, and so much more than the last of me,’ they said, and then they left for uthenera—to be able to remember the flowers forever. Maybe that was their din’an’shiral, but what was the point of this memory? It had been hidden away, not even in a place of prominence, until I found it."
She took a deep breath, then released it to the heavens in a long, slow sigh. "The point was the act of outpouring itself. They gave that flower new life in the retelling alone. My duty is not to spend my life searching for the alchemy or the magic to bring that vine back to life, to replant it, to breed it.”
She smiled a little, her shoulders slumping as though relieved of a great weight—evidence of a weariness in her spirit that he believed he had placed there. He had hated the thought, but now he knew a deeper truth: he loved her for it. In this story she wove for him, in her pains, and in her sorrows, she told him again and again and again that she knew him, and she wanted him to know her in kind. If only he would allow himself.
“I may not live forever, but for now, that flower has new life in me. And my duty to that flower, and to the Rememberer, is to give it new life in the retelling.”
Ixchel offered him this belief so simply, without pretense, without request.
But for the first time, he thought he might believe it, too.
The shock of it—the possibility, the freedom, that such a realization entailed—left him reeling. After all this time, the bitter grief he had clung to for guidance in the turmoil and the terror had been wrenched from his grasp. The world, as empty as it remained, felt suffocatingly full in the wake of her words, and he thought he might drown if left without something to anchor him.
He needed something else to hold on to. Solas did not know what he would find, if he let go of the duty that had steered his course for so long. But this woman in front of him had labored so long to get him to try.
Ixchel looked at him then with the same understanding and love in her eye, and he realized something else: it could not be her. Just as she had told him she did not want to place her burdens upon him, he could not place that burden on her, along with the fate unwittingly branded into her palm.
Together, she had urged him. Together, as equals, they could walk this path wherever it might lead.
Together, he told himself, and he kissed her.
#solavellan#bloodied and broken bits#broken mirrors#solas pov#I GUESS.jpg#sorry this wasn't fluffy#it kinda gripped me and wouldn't let goooooo
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Laid up in bed, frothing at the mouth because I can neither sew nor tidy up in preparation for sewing 😠
#killed my back friends!!#i saw a chiropractor about it and now it's simultaneously better and worse#better in that the pain is less severe#worse in that my only pain free position is lying down#earlier i could stand and walk pretty well once I'd warmed up a bit#now i can move around for about 15 mins and then it gets progressively worse#whine whine complain complain#going back tomorrow and probably attempting to go to work again after that#at least i'm very much getting some quiet time alone?#i guess.jpg#life of kit
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Im not in the fandom any more so I can only imagine the plague = covid joke has been done to dust but i thought this was funny ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ you get no context.
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I HATE MY NEW HAIRCUT
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the more i analyze the type of people i am attracted to (including like fictional characters) the more i realize i have a Type (or multiple Types) and i feel sooo called out every time i say i like someone and people are like 'yeah that makes sense'
#this boy has a tattoo of his favorite vegetables#and somehow people are like 'oh yeah that tracks for you'#WHAT????#but i do have a tattoo of flowers that are important to me so#i guess.jpg
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literally this morning i was gonna put my patrick keychain on my jeans but then i saw pete sitting next to him and was like "no.... i have to keep them together." and now im hearing they did what
#kissed ?? a picture of him ????#salem's random thoughts#fall out boy#patrick stump#pete wentz#peterick#I FUCKING GUESS.jpg
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me if i was in succession and slayed idk (technically lost all my whimsy [jean jacket with 20 buttons and patches and also black/pink hair] but that's fitting for corporate america)
#id love to add my actual hair color i think itd be funny. but also that simply doesnt fit imo#if logan roy saw me. a guy. with pink hair. he'd have a heart attack and die like he could not grasp the idea of a trans guy liking pink#.txt#idont have a tag for my inserts. i mean ive already shared what my main one is. its that but with normal hair lol#Ok Actually the hair style on the right is like 95% accurate to mine but pretend its symmetrical. its important to me that thats known#also im like. 5'6. i'm making all my self inserts tall. i need it#self insert tag#*I GUESS.jpg*#these dont have eye colors its uhh hazel#s/i: succession
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my therapist has nerfed me and is the first person to ever explain to me the mechanics of enmeshment and ptsd in the brain and WHY "lack of identity/lacking a sense of self" are prominent symptoms and how to actually go about developing my own sense of self and identity and i! don't! like! it!
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As much as i am not used to my notifications being this notification-y, i do find it entertaining that there is a small but not infrequent population tagging Quentin from the Magicians series. I've never read the books, though i watched the first couple of seasons. I have Questions, because i do not remember Magicians!Quentin being that beleagured by blood. I also kind of want to read whatever happens when Magicians!Quentin gets thrown into A Situation alongside TobyDaye!Quentin.
I feel like that would be highly entertaining.
#i would also like to throw Quentin Quire and Q is for Quentin who sank in a mire from the gashleycrumb tinies#into the above mix#how i do not know#TD!Q to M!Q - '...i am Not Prepared to deal with Hipster Human Tybalt.'#M!Q and Q!Q to TD!Q - i-guess.jpg#...ooh hold on. kid omega quentin meets raj. the I Will Cause Problems On Purpose is STRONG#anyway#GT!Q is just like '...i crawled out of the mire and i am crawling right back in because Y I K E S
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no bc why do jason and my mom share birthdays
#brie speaks#remembered this bc i forgot damian’s birthday so i was like WAIT . okay no i didnt forget jason’s#bc that would mean forgetting my mom’s#also me sharing birthdays with tim like I Guess.jpg
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wait is hob gadling being a history prof a hivemind headcanon or was it in the comics somewhere bc that’d be extremely funny, like
hob gadling frantically looking for peer reviewed sources to confirm something he’d experienced was real and finding none, all his vast first hand knowledge rendered completely useless
hob gadling eventually beginning to doubt this or that thing actually happened, like that one cartoon you saw a snippet of on TV when you were 7 and now you can’t find evidence of its existence anywhere for the life of you
hob gadling learning new things about the eras he’d lived through bc he had limited access to information back then and now he reads about some fact or event and feels that the Vibe is off but he can’t actually tell for sure if it’s fake so he just goes “I GUESS.jpg”
hob gadling gaslighted and driven mad by the academia
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