#queerplatonic cowboys

[kit-middleton]

I am amazed it took until the tail-end of season FOUR of Yellowstone for someone to ask Ryan and Colby if they’re a couple.

They definitely have couple vibes, even if those vibes are pretty queerplatonic.

My idiot cowboys.

[lokiiied]

watched bram stoker’s dracula and they definitely all cuddle for warmth at night

[coonyhq]

petition to call qpr relations your pardners

[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. 

[spacespeckspod]

do you like:

haunted houses but the house is a nameless planet

queerplatonic polycules

soldiers with something to prove

dogs ???

tragedy and subsequent denial

aromantic cowboys

the world's worst roadtrip

then you should listen to SPACE SPECKS (on May 25th. Until then, you can check out our trailer!)

[howlsofbloodhounds]

I had a dream a couple nights ago but have been so swamped with work and fighting my own procrastination I didn't have the brains to share it immediately.

I did mention what I think would happen if Patience fronted in the plural!Color headcanon, and this time my dream gave me material in what would happen if Clover (Justice soul) fronted and how they'd interact with Killer from there.

In Undertale Yellow in the Pacifist run, it is established again and again and again how kind and pure Clover is, but in the Neutral and No Mercy runs, every action they take can be dependent on self-defense or what they think is right. In Pacifist, they start seeing everything from the point of view of monsterkind and end up giving up their soul if that means the monsters can be free quicker. In Neutral, Clover kills whoever the fuck as a means of self-defense or perhaps judge who they kill and who they don't on a case-by-case basis. In No-Mercy, they fuck up monsterkind however possible in pursuit of freeing the five human souls before them. The actions they take in this route is a means of avenging the children the monsters have killed.

However, only the Pacifist timeline is canonical to how monsterkind got the Justice soul in the first place, at least as far as Undertale Yellow goes since it's a fangame and all that jazz.

Every action Clover takes throughout the game is fueled purely by their sense of Justice and nothing else, which may or may not lead to Color being a little apprehensive in what they'd think of Killer once they start interacting with him regularly, given his background.

But since I'm working with Clover from the Pacifist timeline, it becomes obvious soon enough that even if they could have grievances with all the horrible things Killer has done, they recognize how much he is suffering and that living under better and healthier circumstances would be a means of stopping those harmful behaviors.

All that being said, I think Killer and Clover would have an unhinged dynamic. You could say the same for Killer and Color's but I ain't talking about the married romance-flux queerplatonic faggots here, this has to do with a mentally ill man and a 10-14 year old with a gun and wild west drip.

Clover would hold this man at gunpoint at least once every time they front and Killer just gets used to it because he knows they're not gonna shoot him. It becomes a running gag between them that if they have any minor disagreement about anything nonsensical that came out of his mouth, Killer gets threatened with a plastic gun loaded with skittles ammo.

Killer would go out of his way to work up his own impressions of Emperor Palpetine from Star Wars and a highly stereotypical cowboy accent to annoy the shit out of Clover, especially when his face is on the blasting end of that gun. He would press his forehead right up against it and go "Dew et.... DEW EEETTT....." in that fucked up Palpetine impression while Clover struggles to keep their composure.

How Killer interacts with those six human souls individually may be a source of healing in how he views children, given his creation was conducted by a child (a very influenced child at that).

Cause think about it. He is not being forced to be their caretaker, guardian, or parent. He's not being expected to know everything. He's not being forced to interact with any of them in a certain way. Nothing about how he interacts with Color's souls is going to be forced or laced with expectations he cannot meet. Nothing associated with his trauma or programming is being taken advantage of.

How he interacts with those six kids will be on his own terms, because since they've learned through Color's guidance, they know how to take care of themselves without him, both collectively and individually.

They already have a parent. They don't need Killer to be one.

They’re also a part of Color and the only reason Color’s still alive, which may also be a factor in Killer’s..apperception? respect? for them, even if he very likely distrusted them in the beginning: either because he believed they were controlling color and making him act that way(aka thinking colors kindness isn’t real and he’s just doing it because something is making him, etc etc), or eventually because he suspected they were controlling Color and making him do things he doesn’t want. (Manipulating Color.)

Neither is the case, he realizes eventually, even if the souls do influence and (sometimes) take control.

They’re apart of Color, and I do think killer would eventually want to understand them, to understand the most important person in his life and perhaps, also in a way, himself.

There’s no obligation or expectations from them, they really don’t need or want anything from, besides perhaps to not treat them, color, or any of the others (such as delta and beta) like shit.

It’d be interesting to have the six souls and beta be how he starts questioning his views regarding kids—and as a result, Chara.

It’s unlikely to undue any conditioning in regards to them—that’ll take years to unpack because it overrides his own natural instincts even, and to also recognize that kids being kids doesn’t mean they’re trying to control him and that fully they know and intend to do what they’re doing (to basically not view them as mini adults capable of the same thing adults in terms of manipulation and harm)—but knowing that they don’t need him or want anything from him is a huge step. Especially when Color has the capacity to step in and stop him if something ever did trigger him.

Anyway Clover probably definitely asks Killer to play Red Dead Redemption with them and gets so angry whenever Killer does something to get low honor like robbing people.

[sloopjohnpizzanose]

● INFO CENTRAL ●

.・。.・゜✭・. This is my main and art blog! ❤

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About Me

★ Pronouns: she/her | unlabelled/unlabeled, aspec | Attraction Labels: platonic, alterous, queerplatonic, aesthetic.

★ Fandoms: The Beach Boys (band) ¦ Cormac McCarthy (writer) ¦ Ranfren (webseries) ¦ Hanna-Barbera (animation studio), probably Batman/DC (superhero franchise)

★ About this Blog: I post about my interests, art, and fandom-related content.

Content Warning

.ᐟ There will be disturbing themes I might post about or reblog. As mentioned, I have interests in dark subject matter (Southern Gothic, Cormac McCarthy, Ranfren).

Graphics Credits:

Dividers- animated caution tape divider by @mmadeinheavenn | bullet divider by @faysayk Stamps- weirdcore backrooms graphics stamps by @engravedlives | Animated stamps (Pt 2) & midwestern gothic by @cheezitofthevalley Blinkies- cowboy blinkies by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more | midwestern gothic by @cheezitofthevalley Images- Hanna-Barbera graphics by @probably-des | trespassers by @sohelpmegod

[amrass]

Fanfiction WIP overview 12.19.23

I'm still on a break from writing, but my mind is itching to create, it’s intense. So I thought I’d do a write up of my potential upcoming RDR2 fanfiction projects, and see if that can get them out of my mind. It also might be interesting for any potential readers of mine who follow this little account.

NSFW content bellow the cut.

- Moral Tinnitus. Crack. AU where everything the same except the RDR2 characters can hear the high and low honor sound. Arthur despairs while fishing. Dutch is chill. Micah is kinda deaf, and Baylock is the Dark Horse from RDR1, so he has to be super evil or his horse runs off.

- Scotch, Cream and Rum. (Named after the ingredients of the "Midnight Cowboy Cocktail", known for tasting terribly). Arthur/Micah/Dutch threesome, power play deluxe, PWP. Arthur and Micah's first meeting at Crenshaw Hills, hours after Micah saves Dutch's life, leading to odd arrangements.

- Perfect Night. Colm/Micah. Pre-canon sugar (salt) daddy AU, where Micah's father finds out about them. This is sooo kinky, with consensual noncon elements, piercing play and sounding? But Colm is nicer here than I’ve written him before, but still a salty crime boss, with existential angst.

- Under the Giant Trees. Arthur/Micah. Little Red Riding Hood inspired AU with alpha/beta dynamic. Wolf man!Arthur. Evil grandmother!Micah Bell The First?? Micah (III) with a red scarf or hooded leather coat??? Wtf

- Song for the Siren. Queerplatonic Javier/Jenny, femdom Jenny/Micah, hate and grief sex Javier/Micah. Deeply complicated relationships. The first time Jenny and Micah has sex, she tries to drown him.

- Untitled Van der Linde motorcycle gang AU. Arthur/Micah. Bunch of loosely interconnected scenes. Motorcycle Morbell race. The amount of leather here, wow.

- Untitled space western AU. Pirate gangs in a space ship prison. Multipairing. Cyborg!Arthur (due to mutated Tuberculosis strain)/mecha pilot!Charles, plus many more. Lotsa weird horror in this. Psychedelic drug lord Uncle? AI Grimshaw? Pirate overlord Dutch? Prison ward Bell family?

I won’t do all of these, but we’ll see! Whew, I think it helped … I’m going to have a Christmas drink and go to bed earlier today. Thank you for reading.

[baeddoll]

got some queerplatonic objectum shit goin on with my cowboy jacket

[ash-and-starlight]

*very nervous to ask this* but I really love your pirate zuko au and @chiptrillino 's yue design and I had this thought of combining those two with this one “mai runs away to become a cowboy archer with yue as her (very queerplatonic) cowboy archer companion ” au that has been rotating in my head like peanuts in a microwave.

Would it be okay if I borrowed elements from your pirate zuko au?

heyyy sorry if it took me so long to answer this but yeah np!! we’re all in this sandbox playing with characters like dolls and getting influenced by each other im really excited that you found the inspiration for your au!

[tex-treasure-chamber]

Ad Astra Per Aspera

Name: "Tex" Sonata

Pronouns: xe/they/she

Universes: BBC Sherlock, Black Books, The Blacklist

Age: 31 at the start of S1

MBTI: INTJ-T

Personality in five words: Cautious, Earnest, Macabre, Playful, Curious

Orientation: AFAB Agender person. Asexual and aromantic

Nationality: Texan (Mexican-American)

Physical description: 5'0". Sonata is a POC; xe has caramel brown skin and indigenous Mexican features in the form of xyr strong nose. They have heavy lidded dark brown eyes, dark brown wavy hair that curls at the ends and reaches her lower back. Small scar on right side of jaw along their chin. Small cupid's bow lips. Dark brown freckles occasionally dot xyr skin in constellations along arms. Hourglass figure.

Clothing attire: Sonata typically wears dark/light academia attire to work and an eldritch blend of detective film noir/southern cowboy/goth lolita/Hawaiian shirt wearing stepdad when on the streets. Regarding shoes, it's either cowboy shoes, oxfords, or thick heels. Usually always has on a large chunky jumper around the flat. Wears a wristwatch at all times except in the shower even though it's waterproof. Has two piercings in both ears and typically wears silver studs.

Occupation: D.I. working for Scotland Yard. Answers to D.I. Lestrade. Has some training as a criminal profiler

Home: 221C. Between the events depicted in Ep1 and Ep 3 of S1, Mrs. Hudson renovates 221C thanks to the combined income from Sherlock and John and Sonata moves in long before the events depicted in Ep3.

Interests: marine biology, astronomy, art history, zoology, criminology, learning dying languages

Hobbies: painting, letter writing with wax seals, photography, stargazing, drawing, reading and visiting Black Books for more books and to spend time with friends (xe always brings wine), writing poetry, playing chess, exploring London museums and art galleries, feeding the local magpies, cooking/baking.

Idiosyncrasies: hums/sings when xe thinks xe is alone, bounces leg, bounces on balls of feet, fiddles/gesticulates with hands, plays with the curled ends of xyr hair, doesn't make much eye contact, is prone to staring, shies away from touch.

-Relationships-

Life partner: Jim Moriarty

Queerplatonic partners: Molly Hooper, Gregory Lestrade

Found family (adoption style): Mycroft, Sherlock, and Eurus Holmes, Dembe Zuma, Raymond Reddington, Mrs. Hudson.

Best Friends: John Watson, David Black (belongs to @13leighstreet)

Friends: Bernard Black, Soo Lin Yao, Irene Adler, Mike Stamford

-Day in the Life-

When not working at Scotland Yard or at a crime scene, Sonata can be found at their home in 221C or out somewhere in London on any random given street with someone dear to xem that she's managed to drag along on yet another 'miniventure'. Often on Fridays she enjoys visiting Black Books with a bottle of wine and baked goods they made the evening before to pacify the owner and browse the store for a new book, typically with Jim or Molly by their side.

[xviistrings]

not fandom post but i desperately need a cowboy/samurai character duo. something something shamisen and banjos sounding similar something something they both have scarves theyve earned from their greatest victory and wear it as a reminder... huge egos and they think theyre untouchable... get into a duel... proceed to destroy each other's scarves... gift a replacement one later on... be all queerplatonic about it ok now we're getting off track. BUT YOU SEE THE VISION RIGHT

[rainbowwwanon]

okay, let’s start off with the character askblog since not much happened there

so basically, the only news there is that there’s a Backle blog now! And him and Tate are Queerplatonic partners and stuff

Okay! Now the anon stuff!

alright so, PT and 🔥 had a convo about 🌈 and why PT was being nice to them and junk, also apparently PT has a camera outside of 🌈’s house. That conversation resulted in PT interrogating cowboy about what he is, cowboy refuses to anwser.

Now, remember that question about what animal you’d be? 💢 got the same question, and 🔥 was mocking him for his anwser, which resulted in a fight, which resulted in 💢 admitting he had feelings for 🔥 but he’d never never act on them cause he fucking hated 🔥

Then, 💢 got really angry and really super violent, went on a murder spree and killed 3 geese in his human form (he got injured as fuck too) and then showed up on PT’s doorstep, PT brought him inside and they are having a conversation about 💢’s feelings!

I think that’s about everything! Yay!

-gossip anon

Dang, I mean this in no offense whatsoever, really I'm more impressed than anything, but how on earth are you this updated with the blogs?? Idek what goes on with most of them half the time 😭😭😭 kudos to you man /ooc

[din-skywalker]

you know what? fuck it. Imma write a book about a non binary cowboy and their queerplatonic partner cowgirl

[lynxindisguise]

hi lynx, here's a bear-padfoot for the werebears universe for you! 💖

but I also want to know more about the queerplatonic wolfstar multiverse fic!! what can you tell me about it, what are your ideas for it so far (that you want to share)??

BEAR PADFOOT 😭 he's so precious I would let him eat my heart

ooooh yesss. I'm currently trying to work out the rules of how it all works, but here are some thoughts:

sirius, age 33/34, is universe-hopping while on the run from the law, and he's either going to be a brilliant scientist or a dr strange-esque wizard

I haven't decided if he's fully transporting himself and trying to avoid running into his other selves, or if he's briefly inhabiting the bodies of his other selves like in everything everywhere all at once

he always seeks out remus because remus is the one person he can trust and is reliably alive (rip james), but their relationship is almost always complicated

he's been doing this for a while, and we get the sense that he's hiding from more than just the law. think doctor who vibes.

possible universes: muggle bartender, pagan village werewolf hunter sirius, cowboy sirius, vampires, pirates, high fantasy (like lotr), antichrist/hellhound au, roman empire, coven/occult

sad damp cat hours

[mangacat201]

Tease Tidbit Tuesday

Ok, so I have no idea how any of this works, but I guess I gotta start somewhere. So, considering myself tagged by the blanket beacon of @panbuckley and @rewritetheending for starters.

Since my writing poll emphatically called for it, I am working on my Season5B-Era!Eddie discovers rope bondage next to therapy, cue queerplatonic relationships, do-not-try-this-at-home journeys of self healing, head empty - tied up sexy Eddie Diaz (that one is Buck btw), sprinkled with a the-author-has-no-clue-what-they're-doing garnished with a research binge that made my youtube algorithm go :eyes:

Anyway, this is the start, nothing kinky for a while, yet, but sufficiently angsty, I hope.

"Eddie watches the line of Buck’s throat as he throws his head back in a bout of boisterous laughter and feels all warmth leave his body.

Because he realises at that moment that there is no place for him at that table.

And not for anything any of these… his fam… any of them did, or an act of God, a piece of warped steel spinning through flesh and bone, tons of stone and silt.

No.

It’s because of a choice he made. And he might have had his reasons, good ones even, maybe, but he still made it. He gave it up, walked away, not realising at the time that leaving the 118 meant he doesn’t get to have <i>this</i> anymore. Oh, he could walk over, would be welcomed with shouted greetings and backslaps and Buck’s broad grin that has something sharp and hurt tugged into the corner of his mouth ever since Christmas Day. But no matter how close he sat, pressed into Buck’s side stealing sips from one of those godawful IPA’s he likes (that Eddie secretly does too, but would never actually order), he wouldn’t be coming down from the adrenaline of a spectacular rescue or have to whine at Bobby about weaselling a refit of the bunk room into the next budget or know the latest gossip. He’d be on the outside looking in."

Tagging people from the poll post, since you might be interested, as well as assorted folks. If you'd like to keep being updated, interact, I guess? (Seriously I DO NOT know what I'm doing)

@monsterrae1, @queenklu, @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels, @heartbeatdiaz, @911onabc, @spaceprincessem, @anxieteandbiscuits, @try-set-me-on-fire, @djdangerlove, @cowboy-buck, @sibylsleaves