7 Works by yopossum
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You’re good people, said Tommy, and Joel groaned. You knew that goodness could grow from a fire, could crawl out of hell with teeth and claws and wings and hope, could rip a man right open until all the darkest parts inside him were spread out warm in the sunshine. Joel didn’t. He’d learn.
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One shot - Frankie is haunted, desperate to believe there’s a safe place for him to weather his storms. He doesn’t realize how close it’s always been.
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(Food and Drink, week 1, @secretelephanttattoo’s Secret Springs challenge)
Floating: a super sweet (and plenty sweary and a little angsty) one shot at Morales’ Ice Cream Parlor and Soda Fountain with Frankie, the nicest jerk in town.
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Francisco Morales, love of your life. Two anniversaries, one lifetime. Juntos. Siempre juntos.
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Dieter Bravo is sober. For good, this time. He got divorced, got into treatment, and left Hollywood to focus on healing. Moving a couple hours north to the quiet city of Santa Barbara and into a modest recovery group home in the east side of town, where nobody much cared who he was or what he did, brought a calm he’d never known before. It also left him facing down all his demons armed with only pints of ice cream and weepy Murder, She Wrote marathons.
When one of his early-morning walks is interrupted by mysterious (and sexy!) music coming from a street he hasn’t explored before, Dieter stumbles upon a small private pole dance studio, and class is just about to start. He expected, as one does, to find a room full of sweaty, grinding, beautiful people in their underwear - and to be clear, he does. Amazing. What he could not have anticipated was that, inside a random purple strobe-lit garage on a gloomy Sunday morning, he’d find something he’d been searching for all his life — home.
A roommates/besties/platonic soulmates story that honors the journey of coming back to yourself after a very long and painful time away with laughter, chaos, tears, tenderness, sex, and, yes, pole dancing.
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Loving, reverent smut with sweet, submissive Ezra. Title borrowed from/fic to be accompanied by Florence + The Machine’s “Never Let Me Go”
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Not Anyone Who Says
Not anyone who says, “I’m going to be
careful and smart in matters of love,”
who says, “I’m going to choose slowly,”
but only those lovers who didn’t choose at all
but were, as it were, chosen
by something invisible
and powerful and uncontrollable
and beautiful and possibly even
unsuitable—
only those know what I’m talking about
in this talking about love.
— Mary Oliver