Rosemary @honeybrew_coffee@computerfairi.es

You're telling me something can be so much something that it bends space and time and that some people have joints that don't work right and that when they come into contact with each other there is pain? Damn, gravity is a scam

Go home and drink me tea* oy

Pain flare city making it impossible to concentrate. I just want to go give an me drink tea and barely move

They invented high heels to turn butches into puddles of adoration

I guess ideal Rosemary hand weather is late autumn or early spring, too cold to be outside woodworking but moist enough that the caluses aren't too rough

Though in the warmer weather with more moisture in the air I'm abusing my hands using tools to make things

I am a person with exceptionally lovely hands and this weather is doing nothing good for them

They called me handsome as I stepped out the door, I hold that too my chest like a hot, foil-wrapped potato as I walk through the cold and the uncertain.

I can't believe it's been a whole year since writing has felt this effortless. It's wild to me that I can write this work of joy and libration and companionship, here, at the end of all things

I am hopelessly in love with writing in a close 2nd perspective in a present tense. This has been some of the most pleasant writing I've done since figuring out how to write J'acht last year.

The pleasure is in the process

Did I get to writing a single sex scene? Nope, not at all. But, you see, my folders and tabs are all so neatly organized

This week in Star Trek: T'riall, the author's well researched and thinly disguised fetish

One would think that writing smut wouldn't require extensive research and notetaking; however, I have abour 12 pages of notes scattered between notebooks, sketchbooks, one-page zine style notebooks, and pieces of scratch paper found in varous bags and pockets. It still doesn't require it, but I like to pull from sources of Trek fanfics past and science stuff related to my scenario.

I think it's time. I think I'm gonna open up my word processor this weekend and I'm going to make gay aliens kiss

I saw a rainbow suspended in the veil of frost hanging around the sun this morning.

What so few will ever tell you is that after it rains you can hold the sunbeams in your hands, like effervescent plinths of gold in a pool of indigo shadow under a roof of shimmering oak

There are no words in the tongues of elves and men that describes what lipstick, a pair of heels, and satin does to my brain

Once again opening the door to drink and roll the dice, to sail the Starless Sea and breathe the haunted air. To seeking, to finding.

Is reading gothic novel after gothic novel a healthy thing to do? Maybe

Valentine's is around the corner, the butch loverboy hours are upon us