#i had so much fun this was so indulgent !!!!!! love me some queerplatonic romantic loving deanjo <333

[mrcowboydeanwinchester]

🌾 these quiet lives ⛰️

deanjo fic - 1437 words - rating: G - western au - read on ao3

There is a small ranch, somewhere on the border between Kansas and Nebraska, about a twenty minute ride out from the nearest town. Its windows are shuttered now, but in the ephemeral times of cowboys and outlaws, it was a bustling little place - perhaps not full of people, but full to the brim with two quiet lives being well lived after many days of hardship. 

These quiet lives were those of Jo Harvelle and Dean Winchester.

or, the dean and jo are long term cowboy partners on the ranch they bought together and now dean is cutting jo's hair fic

written for beloved rain @queerstudiesnatural's 2k celebration and the prompt deanjo! i had an absolute blast running with this. massive thanks to @magdaclaire for the beta <3

fic is below the cut!

There is a small ranch, somewhere on the border between Kansas and Nebraska, about a twenty minute ride out from the nearest town. Its windows are shuttered now, but in the ephemeral times of cowboys and outlaws, it was a bustling little place - perhaps not full of people, but full to the brim with two quiet lives being well lived after many days of hardship. 

These quiet lives were those of Jo Harvelle and Dean Winchester.

To everyone else (namely the nosey figures in the windows of that small town a twenty minute ride away), their partnership looked formulaic: a guy and a girl shacking up together with a few horses, a ranch, saving up to make the place a little cozier. Nothing that nobody hadn’t seen before. 

But what everyone else didn’t know was how radical their love was. The way that Dean was Jo’s first kiss with a man, and Jo Dean’s first kiss with a woman, when they were both far from virginity. How they had drifted in and out of each other’s lives for years like no one could decide their fate. The scars along Jo’s torso, too, were proof that they had almost been out of time. That they were alive, to realize the could-be potential of their will-they-won’t-they relationship at all, was incredible. It was the time of outlaws, afterall, and our two protagonists had not been immune to a lawless life.

With all that stood in their way you could perhaps be justified in saying their love was out of character. But it wasn’t. It made perfect sense, in the same way that poetry might, strong and solid in meaning if only when read by the right eyes. And that was Jo and Dean: a nonsense poem with a strict rhyme scheme, predictable on the surface yet profound between the lines. Rhythmic, galloping, beating hearts as certain as hooves on the sun-hard ground. 

Still, they weren’t strictly in love. Rather, the love was all around them. Jo saw it in the green oasis of their pastures amid the desert land, in the firewood piled beside the porch, in the leather jacket quietly left for her to wear on colder days. Dean saw it in the crystal clarity of the ranch windows after a rough wind, in the oats faithfully refilled in the stables, in the gift of a new hat with a wider brim when the heatwave came. For both of them it was a love of actions, the affection solid and tangible and filling after years of starvation.

Contentment, in the gentle touches of four scarred hands. 

On one of the long sloping dusks of August, the world bathing in nectarine and plum, Jo sat on the bottom porch step with Dean a step above, his knees either side of her. It was the kind of evening which cost nothing, yet gave everything in return, where the turn of the earth could be felt in the hum of the cicadas, and the day, while fading away, seemed still to be new - the kind of evening which only ever occurred thrice in the nineteenth century, and has not occurred since. Well, it was on that incredibly rare kind of evening belonging only truly to retired outlaws, that Dean held silver scissors (copper in the light) in his scarred hands as he snipped easily away at Jo’s hair.

“Almost a decade past since we got this place, now,” Jo mused. “You were 31 then, you’re 41 now.”

“And you were 24.” 

“I’m older now than you were when we moved here.”

Dean hummed, somewhere quiet between surprise and acknowledgement, the scissors snipping a melody at the nape of Jo’s neck. 

He had been in the habit of cutting Jo’s hair for as long as they’d set up together on the ranch - a few months short of a decade, to agree with Jo - as, though she liked knives, she wasn’t to be trusted with them near a head of hair, and Dean had had the practice of cutting his younger brother’s shag for all his adolescent years. 

Tonight, though, was slightly different from the usual trim. Cursing the summer heat and finally relaxing into Dean’s encouragement, Jo had marched up to her partner and demanded anything past her chin to be very decidedly cut off. She could tuck it behind her ears as she worked, and the wave of her hair would bring it up off her neck and out of the heat. All this had been patiently explained by Dean many times before. He had this way of knowing Jo, and knew, in the same way as he liked wearing his mother’s jewelry, that cutting her hair might steady her in the skin she was prone to slipping in and out of. 

So far, Jo liked it. Liked the feeling of weight leaving her, the almost dizzying lightness that came with her hair cascading to the floor. She had followed Dean blind into battle, and while she would not do that again, she could go all in on him cutting her hair well. The many hues of their relationship, the bright bruises of their coming-of-age, had not altered, simply mellowed. 

“D’you ever miss it?” Dean said, caring yet mild. “The life we had before all this?” 

Jo waited for two hawks to sail across the apricot sky before answering, no clouds to dapple the light. The words came to her easy enough, but from somewhere moving and deep, wading through long grass. She breathed in deeply, bringing herself to meet them, allowing herself to savor their sweetness.

“All the time we were running with that gang, I were thinkin’ - this is what proper love is, to have something worth dying for. I’d never known it before, you know. An’ then that hound sinks its teeth into my side an’ my vision goes white and there’s only one thing I remember seein’ after that.”

The careful snips of the scissors ceased, and Jo smiled, tilting her head upwards to hold Dean’s gaze.

“You. I could barely think nothin’ and it’s just your face in front of me and then I had one thought, and it were just that I’d been wrong. I were wrong. Love is something worth living for. By god, right then I knew it was worth livin’ for you.”

“Joanna Beth,” Dean whispered, his lips rose and soft around her name. 

Jo had not used to like it when he called her that, mainly due to the fact it was the name her mother had flung at her from across the bar in many a desperate fit of anger, back when she was alive and both of them working at the Roadhouse. It was a name that sank low in her gut like a guilty stone, heavy with the shame of misplaced temper. Jo had wanted to get out, and her mother had wanted a daughter, and neither could give the other what they wanted.

But Dean only ever used Joanna Beth in moments of adoration. As if he felt the simple Jo could not do her justice. When he said Joanna Beth, it meant he was seeing the whole of her, afresh, anew, finding again all of her troubled histories and still wanting to write futures with her.

Her slate was never, would never be clean. There was too much blood for that. But Dean saw the blood and did not love her in spite of it, but with it. Like he wouldn’t rather have her any other way. 

“Grow older with me, Winchester,” Jo murmured, and she turned in his lap to meet him, having been inches too far from him for far too long.

His lips pressed hers tenderly, like they had done hundreds of times before. The great heartlands of America could not hold as many sensations at this, for all of the lushious, dying, sprawling, changing lands around had nothing on them. They were not in love, but they were radiant with it, each with the other firmly and irreparably in their heart.

Jo had yet to find a gray hair, and she felt her breathing alongside Dean was nothing short of a miracle. She hummed these next words against lips, passing them like a breath between them.

“Grow old.”

And, dear reader, I can see even now through the shuttered windows of the ranch they whiled away their years on the many contented memories they made. There is still love there, this century and a half later: it is not a haunting, but a remembrance.

They did, indeed, grow old. 

[autisticempathydaemon]

Greetings, I was referred to try these matchups by a friend of mine who had roped the rest of our house into their shenanigans so here I am: 1. Currently, it's Whose Honey Are You by Fats Waller, particularly:

"Please tell me, Have you really made your mind up Who it's gonna be? Don't you think, before we wind up, We're terrific, you and me!" it reminds me of an old club I met my spouse in and it's been coming back to my mind recently. 2. My enneagram type is Type Eight, the challenger. 3. Not truly, I enjoy documentaries but those kinds of videos ain't my cup of tea. I'm more inclined towards music. 4. I did not have an imaginary childhood friend, not that one I can remember anyways, it's been some time since I was a child. 5. Typically I don't sleep as much but I do like to do so after reading for a bit. 6. I would change it to Leopold. I don't have much of reason, I just like the name 7. I happen to like Aaron's "Your Tsundere Boss Boyfriend wants to talk" audio, it feels real in a sense and shows a lot of maturity in handling a relationship that I appreciate seeing. 8. I don't seem to get the appeal behind David Shaw, he just seems too much like a tough head and needs to get his ass beat 9. Despite their quality, I do like the Hallmark drama movies, not because I enjoy them but they're just fun to mock as I watch them. One that I know is "Til Death Do Us Part: An Aurora Teagarden Mystery" on account of how much a friend of mine watched it while I was around. 10. I do like Aaron, he's has a good head on his shoulders, I can see myself having a good talking with him over dinner. 11. I usually talk about history when I ramble, I've learned enough where I can speak on it and if I'm caught in a mood then I would be caught rambling for too long 12. I don't much indulge in that kinda food, I'm more inclined to a home-cooked meal. Something like Jambalaya would do well for me. 13. My favorite playlist would have to be one my spouse set up for me with my favorite Jazz musicians in there, I listen to it here and there. 14. I suppose the answer to this would be the same to number eight, which is hallmark movies. 15. Something else that I feel could help you to know about me is that...I like having people in my life, I don't act like it much but I do appreciate them all. I also play the Cello and I run my own shop for charms and occult items.

Hmmm… actually, let’s be real. That “hmmm…” is not real, because it’s so obvious who your match would be. How could I pair you with anyone but Camelopardalis?

Like, you like to talk about history? Awesome, Cam was there for the history (because I will believe he’s old as hell until god tells me otherwise.) You like maturity, honesty, and transparency in your relationships? Cam’s literally a therapist; I would hope he’s got all those on lock. I think your personalities and your lifestyles would be instantly compatible, and you two would connect queerplatonically or romantically with ease.

Oh, and what an easy, lovely life it would be, Cam being a perfect fit in your household. He’d get along so well with your spouse, as he strikes me as an amicable person to get along with. He loves jazz and the sound of your cello; perhaps you two even play together. (I could see Camelopardalis having picked up the piano in all of his years.) He’s an avid reader with a huge collection, so he frequently shares with you, giving you good recommendations for things to read before bed. He loves to loiter around the shop and watch you work, maybe watching the till while you’re in the back or knitting behind the counter on slower days. (Really, the only point of disagreement I could think of is that he genuinely, unironically loves Hallmark movies.)

Song:

Like a song of love that clings to me/ How the thought of you does things to me/ Never before has someone been more/ Unforgettable/ In every way/ And forevermore/ That's how you'll stay

One, it’s a jazz love song classic- the jazz love song classic, if you will. It’s also sweet, singable, and a little somber, perfect for slow dancing in the shop while the rain keeps the customers and bad things away. Two. I couldn’t resist, given Cam’s job in memory modification; it was too punny.

Runner-ups:

Hmm, so James was a pretty compelling option for you. I like his vibes as a match, but he strikes me as more of a platonic, social companion than a romantic one. Vega is a runner-up, because imagining him in your occult shop is really funny and charming. Like, that’s a sitcom right there.

note: @mr-laveau come get yo juice

Read this post and send me an ask if you’d like a match-up of your own! 💌

[pastelfeatheredmask]

fanfic writer question game! tagged by @granny-griffin

Names: Pastel, my writing pseud is FeatheredMask (and we don't talk about my old usernames)

Fandoms: BNHA is my current brainrot with a dash of KNY, but I wrote for ML and BSD when I was into those. Got a couple small fandom interests on the side. I've been roleplaying Hetalia for some years, but haven't written much for it.

Where You Post: Ao3. I used to post to FFN, but transitioned over to Ao3 some years ago for a new page in my writing journey. I got told on FFN to take my gore fic elsewhere, and, well, I did.

Most Popular Oneshot (by kudos): Hanahaki Folk Remedy - I've always wanted to write hanahaki, but I'm not a fan of pining and my love always veers queerplatonic rather than romantic. I was inspired by some people in NWA talking about non-romantic hanahaki, and I wrote this pretty fast to achieve my dream of writing hanahaki for once.

Most Popular Multichapter (by kudos): An Explosion of Gold to Fill the Cracks - oh lordy, it's my blind!Katsuki longfic! This was my first BNHA fic, and it started off as some good ol' self-indulgent torture nonsense, and moved quickly to Katsuki being a BAMF. I was so inspired after watching seasons 1+2 of BNHA that I wanted to get right to writing something. Nobody told me that Katsuki gets kidnapped in season 3 until AFTER I had written a couple chapters of this. My chronic illness was flaring when I wrote most of this, and I couldn't really do much more than sit around and write, so yeah.

Favorite Story I’ve Written: Sakura Trees Blossom Every Year - my fae fic! I really loved weaving in all the magical elements, had a lot of fun making so many characters fae, and the training camp arc was an absolute joy to come up with and write! All the scenes around Setsuna's death and bringing her body back to camp -- oh god I made myself love Setsuna!

Fic You Were Nervous To Post: cleaning a blank gravestone - reincarnated!Oboro. DID/OSDD is a kind of a touchy, controversial subject. I'm not writing it from a stereotypical view or even a research-heavy psychology standpoint. It's mostly my own experiences, a smattering of research, and a touch of magical fantasy. I always worry that it's not accurate enough or that someone will get offended by the portrayal of DID/OSDD, especially in the chapters I've been working on recently, where I've been writing with more of a horror tone. This fic has become very personal to me as I navigate my own plurality through it, and the research/planning for it is actively triggering something in my head to fight me, so all that makes me more and more nervous about the reception to each new chapter.

How Do You Choose Your Titles: I'll pick a few words or a concept from the first few chapters I've already written and start bouncing ideas around. I'll make a whole list of potential titles around one or two things I absolutely want to be part of the title, and I'll pick one from those. Sometimes I'll just slap on a song lyric without much thought and then busy my head in my hands when I realize it's stuck there.

Do You Outline? So much. So many bullet points.

Complete: Book 1: Sakura Trees Blossom Every Year, Feed, Forfeit Every Drop, Promised Future, Test Flight, Please Wake Up, and some older stuff.

In Progress: UHHHHHHHH

Coming Soon: Working on the next chapters of Holding Beautiful Things In Phantom Hands, ch2 of Swim in Starry Skies, ch11 or Wicked World, ch20 of cleaning a blank gravestone! probably gonna post ch3 of Holding Beautiful Things later

Not Started: So, for outlined and have a few hundred words written but nothing's posted, I have an izukacchako dragon rider au, izukacchako mermay, Good Parent Overhaul, Izuku-Katsuki quirk swap, vigi!Izuku with OFA!Ochaco, Midnight in HP-verse, and OFA!Oboro

Upcoming Work You’re Most Excited About: my Oboro fics tbh. Swim in Starry Skies is really scratching the itch to write my space au and fin folk, and I can't wait for the reveals in blank gravestone that are coming up. I've been foreshadowing them, but I really hope they're still good surprises! My vampire!Oboro fic, I'm also excited for, but honestly, it needs a little more outlining before I write the juicy part.

Tagging: @twelvefrogsinatrenchcoat @wishiwereabird @kittytrek @catlady5001 @starcloud-nova

[aceyugiohdreamer]

I will not apologize for scrolling through the Aki Izayoi tag and reblogging a bunch of old posts that caught my eye 🖤🌹🩸🍁🍂🖤

But I will say this:

While I was scrolling, I came across a post cruelly tagged as “faithshipping” that said something like “imagine all the plot potential 5Ds could have had if Yusei had rejected Aki”.  And I’m confused because:

1) like what? how would that have affected the story as it exists at all?

and 2) what about 5Ds gives you the impression that he “accepted” her, or that faithshipping was that crucial as part of the story?

They didn’t end up quote “together” in the end (of on-screen canon at least), despite all the clear and intentional signs that they had a strong canon relationship. To say that Yusei “rejecting” her would do something implies that the opposite actually happened, and I would love to live in that universe. But this isn’t it.

The anime left their relationship completely inconclusive to an unsatisfying degree.

MY feeling is that 5Ds would have had a lot of great plot potential if their relationship had actually been developed in a central and interesting way.

Like, just at the most basic level, imagine how amazing it would have been if the second half of the series had really delved into Aki’s recovery from all those years of being ostracized and feared by society, from the trauma of feeling rejected by her family and the emotional struggle of reintegrating into their life after reuniting with them.

Imagine Neo Domino’s society having to deal with its fear of people with those kinds of powers and Aki’s role in that social shift.

Imagine watching her actually learning to use her powers in new and creative ways, rather than being stripped of them by the plot, and struggling with fears that her powers could still be dangerous and tied to her “dark side”, which she isn’t sure she wants to let go of yet because it helped her survive for so long.

And through the whole thing, Yusei is there to support her and help her learn to trust others and herself, to accept recovery and forgiveness, to change and grow into her own person.

You know, everything they completely skipped over and side-stepped in the anime by turning her into a fucking moe damsel out of fucking nowhere and killing everything that made her an interesting character.

And while personally I don’t need faithshipping to be “romantic”, there is just so much there in the first half that sets up their relationship to be deep and intimate and beautiful and healthy. (and god we need more healthy relationships in media, so like, I am dying for this)

And the fact that someone would suggest it got the development it deserved, when it absolutely did not, and that going in the opposite direction would be more interesting somehow, just really really pisses me off.

.

.

And you know what? Fuck it, I’m gonna get even more self-indulgent.

Yusei gives me such huge aro vibes, so what if part of their relationship dynamic involved Yusei trying to figure out his feelings for Aki and it’s hard because social norms don’t give him enough to work with.

Like, he knows he feels a strong, invaluable connection with her, but he doesn’t know if it’s “romantic” the way other people would understand or expect it to be. And he doesn’t know if it’s the exact same way Aki feels about him (assuming her feelings are even “romantic” in the first place), so he’s not sure if getting into a relationship-relationship with her is the right choice because he doesn’t know if it would be fair to do that if he can’t give her what (he thinks) she wants.

But then as they get closer, they decide it doesn’t matter if what they feel is “romance” or not, and that it’s ok to be a “couple” in whatever sense feels right to them. They get to define their own relationship, because it’s theirs.

And so maybe they don’t do some romantic-coded things like kiss or cuddle or go on romance-themed dates, but they spend lots of time together, even when they’re working on their own independent hobbies, and talk for hours and hours, and stargaze together, and hold hands, and duel passionately with and against each other, and ride their D-wheels together, and banter, and joke, and go on fun dates to try out new things, and support each other in their career goals.

And maybe everyone makes (wrong) assumptions about them, about what their relationship is (or should be) like, and what they do in private, but they don’t let it bother them because all that matters is that they’re happy together with their own way of doing things.

And if they get married, it’s because it would be a fun event to have with their friends where they have an excuse to dress up really nice and fancy, but it wouldn’t really change anything about the state of their relationship.

That’s the kind of aromantic asexual queerplatonic content I’d kill to see! (because of course my imagined universes don’t have sex, that’s just a given)

[solarianvoidthearoace]

Excerpt#2 of my Gerry Keay/OC Magical/Mythical CollegeAU

Part 1

CN/TW: Relationship negotiations (narrative), mushy confessions, narrative mention of abusive past relationships, narrative mention of (aversion to) sex - two sentences after "Aside from being asexual"

Characters entering a long-distance relationship, anxiety, discussion of mental illness, reference to past trauma, character experiencing an affective breakdown, character being in a dissociative/shutdown state, self-depreciation and trying to shut people out, it/its pronouns for Michael Shelley, he/they pronouns for Gerry, they/them pronouns for OC

“These last weeks… I…”, he looked away. Gerry finally looked away. He closed their eyes with a pained little smile. His next words barely above a whisper. A quiet confession,

“I thought about kissing you.” When he could look at Yanis again, they returned his little smile. Both seeing that the other didn’t dare hope, still. Yanis pressed against Gerry’s hand on their face,

“None of that sounds romantic, to me.” Which made Gerry chuckle,

“I do hope so. I’m not in love with you.” Yanis nodded, turning to press a kiss to Gerry’s palm. They lay there in quiet, processing the moment and letting their feelings calm back down. That emotional turmoil subsiding.

When Gerry’s hand slid away, he raised a brow at Yanis. A bit helpless and his tone insecure,

“Where does that leave us?”

Yanis shrugged,

“Wherever we both want, I’d say.” Gerry nodded, looking away again, half hiding in the pillow,

“I just needed to let you know.” Yanis moved closer, their shoulders touching and them pressing together from the waist down. They raised a hand to Gerry’s hair, loosely carding their fingers through.

“Do you want a relationship? Give that a try even though it will be long-distance?”, their tone gentle, as quiet as they were talking. Gerry whined,

“I don’t know.” He turned back towards them,

“I just know you’re important to me and I want to be close to you.” Yanis nodded,

“I can’t stand the thought of our goodbye being forever either. I want to be close to you like this, I want to listen to your rambling and when you infodump about something I have little clue about. And I love how we can turn so many things into hourlong debates for the fun of it just to agree after all. I’m really happy with how much we can cuddle, can touch each other. And even with one or two of your stims straining my misophonia, being around you is grounding.” Gerry nodded, another pained smile twisting their face. Yanis cooed, then shushed him,

“Don’t you start crying now. I still need to know whether you want us to try getting committed.” Gerry chuckled at that, though it was rather watery and the first tear slipped. Yanis took a deep breath, letting their hand trail from Gerry’s hair to their cheek,

“Long-distance queerplatonic relationship, what do you say?” Gerry closed his eyes for a moment, humming and finally smiling.

“Can I please kiss you already?”

They did decide to label their being together as a committed relationship. There were still some negotiations and discussions to be had, around what they both wanted, their needs and boundaries. They did have the first of those discussions the very same day. Gerry elaborating on what they liked about Yanis dragging him around. Yanis reassuring him they will always make sure Gerry stays comfortable with that. On another matter, Gerry had known about Yanis not being interested in sex. That coming up wasn’t a surprise. Aside from being asexual, Yanis knew that they personally found penetrative sex rather underwhelming. They weren’t disinclined towards the general idea. But having had one too many ex-partner get upset with them for not meeting expectations… Yanis was ultimately rather averse to sex. Which, to Gerry, didn’t matter. And Yanis had to concede that, both of their mythical nature gearing them towards seduction and sexual indulgence, they both had a solid grip on how to deal with that on their own. Making out, mutual groping and feeling each other up was very much appreciated, though. And they both knew the other would stop if they asked to. They felt no need to bring sex into their relationship if they weren’t both enthusiastic to do so.

It worked well. They talked on the phone and through video calls every week, in addition to texting every day. And when Yanis’ semester abroad came around, Gerry was all too happy to welcome them into his London home. An apartment he shared with Michael. While it was a bit sceptic, parading the brother shtick of having to approve Gerry’s partner, Yanis grew friendly with him pretty quickly.

They shared Gerry’s bedroom for the entirety of Yanis’ semester in London. Leading to some late-night shenanigans, fumbling and groping implicit, between them. Aside from getting a taste for what it could be like to move in together when they both had graduated. And being together like that was generally nice. Solidifying their relationship as the right choice for them both.

After Yanis’ semester abroad, they were left with either of their semester breaks. And since that didn’t always line up, it was bound to happen that one of them still had lectures and courses wrapping up while the other was in their non-term already.

Because of that, they had decided Gerry would come visit Yanis. And that Yanis sending them the spare key to their flat was just most convenient. Having lived together, they had seen a few of the more ugly sides of each other. Both carrying trauma with them and sometimes buckling under the load of their respective mental illnesses. Especially Yanis hadn’t been able to hide their, sometimes attack-like, affective breakdowns even while Gerry and them had simply hung out. And while it obviously wasn’t pretty and did put their evening activities on hold, Gerry never once felt burdened by Yanis.

And during their stay in London, he had been unable to hide their own affective breakdowns, their own flashbacks and shutdowns. But Yanis had taken care of Gerry all the same, not even needing prompting to help Michael in calming Gerry down. Simply waiting for instructions how to go about that in the best way.

They simply had had to acknowledge that either their mental illnesses, with attacks and meltdowns, were just part of their relationship. That accommodating not only their own but their partner’s mental health and neurodiversity was part of the necessary groundwork for them.

And they never once had had a problem with that. With needing to reassure each other, with taking care of each other as well as giving one another space when needed.

Still, Gerry’s anxiety didn’t like that his train connection to Yanis’ university city was delayed. They had been looking forward to cooking together, having a stressless evening. But the European railway network being what it was, one delay piled up to two, to three. Until, when Gerry finally made it to Germany at all, they were a solid three hours late. On his train route that would have taken 8 hours in the first place.

And he couldn’t get a hold of Yanis.

Gerry knew they had had lectures that day but even then, Yanis should have been at home around 4 in the afternoon. It wasn’t that he needed to know what they were up to instead. But Yanis not answering to texts ever since Gerry arrived in Brussels… what had been almost 8 hours now… it worried Gerry.

Of course he was worried. And in turn suddenly glad to have a key to Yanis’ flat. He knew they both had expected him to arrive some time around 6 in the evening. When he finally did let themself into Yanis’ flat, it was almost 10 at night.

The flat was dark. The curtains being left open wasn’t unusual but Yanis, needing glasses, would usually put on lights when it got past 9 in the evening. Frowning, Gerry set down his bags by the door.

Shooting them another worried text message. With how quiet it was in the empty-appearing flat, he could hear the faint buzzing of Yanis’ phone.

As Gerry went looking for it, he found the device abandoned on Yanis’ bed. And being closer to the bathroom now, they heard laboured breathing.

When he poked their head into the bathroom, Gerry felt a cold shiver running through him. Yanis sat on the floor, curled up around themself. They were pressing themself into the corner between bathtub and tiled wall. And even in the dark Gerry could easily see them shaking and shivering. A sudden sob startled them both.

“Yanis?”, he pushed the door open, slowly coming closer. Getting onto their knees a good distance from Yanis still.

“<i>Kleines</i>, what’s the matter?” Yanis tensed, taking a shuddering breath before they slowly looked up. Seeing Gerry there with them, they whimpered. Struggling before they could speak,

“I’m sorry. I…” Before mortification cleared their face,

“How late is it?” Gerry shook his head, slowly coming closer,

“Doesn’t matter. Are you okay?” Yanis blinked, turning away. Sighing, Gerry reached out for their shoulder. When Yanis didn’t pull away from their touch, he moved close enough to wrap an arm around them. Neither spoke a word while Gerry slowly stroked their back. When he felt Yanis loosen up a little, he tried again,

“Do you need anything? Are you okay?” Yanis closed their eyes,

“I’m fine. And if you want to leave, I wouldn’t fault you.” Gerry almost sat back in surprise.

“I mean it”, Yanis’ voice gaining strength again,

“I would never hold it against you if you decide I’m not worth the trouble. Or you just can’t handle seeing me like this. I’m glad you care but I understand if I’m too much. You can leave me, I’ll manage.”

Gerry didn’t know what to say. The words bringing back that cold chill and feeling like a gut punch at the same time. Searching Yanis’ face, they retracted his hand.

Very slowly, he moved away. Only getting back to their feet when there was a good distance between them and Yanis.

Leaving the bathroom, he felt a stab of guilt. But Yanis remained quiet. Assuming the worst case, Yanis had had whatever breakdown or affective attack had left them shut-down like this a good 8 hours earlier. Gerry felt nauseous even considering that. And with how Yanis had left their phone in another room, they must have had a bad mental health day in the first place. Otherwise they would have messaged him, asking they help them through the breakdown via text.

Grabbing a bottle of water and a blanket off the couch, he went back to the bathroom. Yanis had shifted. No longer curled up where they sat. Instead their legs were stretched and their body turned towards the tub, head resting on the brink.

Like this, Gerry could take a proper look at them. Well, as good as the lack of lighting allowed for.

[castillon02]

Ask meme time! Pick three fics you have written, post a favorite section of each and explain why it is your favorite. Then, pass it on! :D

Only two bc I am incredibly indecisive, but thank you, @yoursummerfrost---this was fun! 

From Keeping Crows: 

Geralt slid in behind him. “Told you not to sing that song about my two swords.”

“That song just got you laid, my friend,” Jaskier said, huffing with obnoxious offense. He didn’t get it, that Geralt needed sex but it made him feel like a drowner dragging people in his wake, like something his bed partners escaped from afterward.

Jaskier wanted to fuck him—Geralt could smell it sometimes—but Jaskier wanted to fuck most people, so Geralt didn’t think much of it. He didn’t want Jaskier to flee him, so they didn’t fuck.

Anyway, Jaskier touched him even without sex as an excuse. Even half-asleep like this, he reached back to pat Geralt’s knee for no reason. As if their touches were a pleasure. As if Geralt were a person worth touching.

Skin-hunger happened less often with Jaskier around. Saved on brothel money.

This is one of the last sections of the story that I wrote; it came after the wonderful @beginte read my first draft. I like it because it was challenging and satisfying to write, figuring out Geralt’s attitude to sex in this story, and because it manages to keep the dynamic between Jaskier and Geralt ambiguous, queerplatonic or romantic as the reader wants to interpret it. And in a story about getting what you want as well as what you need, it makes me happy to be able to give Geralt and Jaskier the pleasure of touch without the sense of physical urgency that often seems to come with sex/orgasms/etc. 

Also Jaskier would one hundred percent make up a lewd song about Geralt’s “two swords” and I love my terrible bard son. 

From The Literal Food of Love: 

“And coq au vin is the wrong thing to make for a bunch of gangsters anyway!” Ray was saying. “Make them some fucking burgers!” On one side of the kitchen island, she wielded a sheet tray like a shield, a butcher’s knife in her other hand.

On the other side of the island, Mammary was in the process of lighting the rag she’d stuffed into a wine bottle.  

“You’re meant to let the wine breathe,” Bond told her, and then they were going at it, Mammary’s mixed martial arts skills against his long career of killing people. Unlike with Rachael Ray, Mammary had zero incentive to keep him alive, and Bond found himself dodging a flurry of brass-knuckled punches and kicks from her pointed heels. She cornered him between the refrigerator and the dishwasher, but a sheet pan to the back of her head knocked her off balance for just long enough that Bond could brain her with a knife block.

“Jesus Christ,” Rachael Ray said, still holding on to the sheet pan. Then she said, “Fuck, my image contract! If anyone asks, I said ‘Oh my gravy,’ got it?”

James Bond rescues a series of kidnapped celebrity chefs while he and Q bond over food and cooking. Possibly the most self-indulgent thing I have ever written? Definitely the first RPF---never thought I’d venture into that realm, but the humor and joy of a Food Network crossover was too tempting to resist. It was SO MUCH FUN and I think it’s the thing I’m proudest of writing for this year’s 007 Fest (excluding the Alluding to Canoodling poem, which was a bit more of a technical achievement with the meter and such). 

I really liked getting to write swearing!judgmental!Rachael Ray who thinks your menu is wrong as well as a Bond villain who was a nouveau riche woman with brass knuckles. And I love fight scenes where the actors use the elements from their environment (Jason Statham using his sweater as a weapon in Transporter 2 is always my go-to fight scene inspiration), so getting to stop the villain with a sheet pan and a knife block instead of a fancy Q Branch weapon was just. so enjoyable. :D