#and the thought of getting into a queerplatonic relationship makes me want to run from it

[eliias-bouchard]

is it possible to be like. queerplatonic-repulsed the way people can be romance repulsed

#someone viewing our relationship as romantic (with my consent): sure whatever you can do that #someone viewing our relationship as platonic/friendship w/ my consent: sure thats chill and good #concept of being in a qpr or someone feeling queerplatonic attraction towards me: ehhhhhhhh #i dont even know how to describe this feeling? #maybe its just because its the only sort of attraction i dont have trauma around. #my brain just shuts down when i try and picture being in a traditional romantic relationship #i cant feel anything. when i think about its . im not really. there #and thats making me upset. dang okay #and like with friendships... ugh #its not quite the same but i just. feels badweird. #enforced alloromanticism i suppose. #still trying to figure out what the fuck my feelings are about platonic / friendship type relationships #but the thought of someone having queerplatonic attraction towards me makes me want to raise my hackles or bare my teeth #and the thought of getting into a queerplatonic relationship makes me want to run from it #although i dont know if i can separate that from my issues surrounding being. pressured? can i describe it as being pressured? #into a romantic relationship

[tossawary]

You know, the more I think about it, the funnier I find the concept of Monkey D. Luffy /& Boa Hancock (especially paired with Aro-Ace spectrum Luffy and Aro-Ace spectrum Hancock) just for what it must look like from an outsider's POV.

For the record, personally, my favorite Luffy ship is Zoro/Luffy - also with Aro-Ace spectrum Luffy, that's basically non-negotiable for me, I don't care whether he's sex-favorable or sex-repulsed, but he's definitely ace. It is so funny to me to think about Luffy's incredible pull with aro-ace spectrum folks. People who once thought "sucks for you fuckers obsessed with sex and/or romance, I'm built different" (Roronoa Zoro, Koby, Trafalgar Law, Boa Hancock, Bartolomeo, etc.) find themselves fascinated by this little rubber man, who regularly declares war on the government and can swallow a roast chicken whole. Some of them are happier about this than others. Some of them WISH they just wanted to fuck or marry him, that would make more sense than this shit.

But, okay, back to Luffy and Hancock (as a friendship or queerplatonic situationship, whatever, doesn't matter). Like, let's pretend this is some kind of Modern College AU (Luffy is probably not IN college, tbh, he's just there to hang out with his friends and for any food anyone makes the mistake of leaving out). You are on your way to class and you see this woman walking down the street and she is - hands down - the Most Beautiful Woman In The World.

Super tall, with incredibly long, muscular legs in shockingly high red heels, a short skirt, artful cleavage, a waterfall of sleek black hair, beautiful face, striking makeup, gorgeous jewelry. Looks too old to be an undergrad student. She looks like if a martial artist became a supermodel. Walks like that too. The phrase "please step on me" comes to mind, but not to the lips, because that's sexual harassment, and also this woman looks like she could stab you through the heart with a kick and her shoe heel, killing you instantly.

She sees someone and her entire face lights up. She runs forward (how is she running in those shoes) squealing in excitement and embraces this guy you didn't even notice before, shouting about how much she missed him, and kisses him on the lips. He is... uh... three-quarters of her height at the tallest. A real Mr. Short King.

Wow, he has a babyface. And a scar on his cheek and on his chest, which you can see because he's wearing an open button-up, in eye-searing rainbow colors and decorated with monkeys, and jorts with fur at the cuffs. And mismatched flip-flops on the wrong feet. And a straw hat on a string around his neck. It looks like he hasn't brushed his hair today. It is impossible to judge his looks because his outfit is too distracting. Now the Most Beautiful Woman in the World is blushing bright pink as she clasps one of his hands in both of hers. Mr. Short King is using his other hand to pick his nose as she talks.

They walk hand in hand together over to where an incredibly expensive-looking bright red car is parked. Mr. Short King opens the driver's door for the Most Beautiful Woman and she apparently nearly swoons at this chivalry. She climbs into the driver's seat and he gets into the passenger's side (Luffy cannot legally drive and also cannot actually drive). They drive off together. What the fuck kind of Roger-and-Jessica-Rabbit-ass Sugar Mama relationship did you just witness?

Boa Hancock keeps a photograph of Luffy as her phone background and also on her desk at work. Everyone is always like, "Is that your... son?" And Hancock is like, "No, that's my number one choice of future fiancé! Isn't he sooooo handsome?" And people can only be like, "...Okay, but why are there police lights in the background? And something is on fire? It kind of looks like he's in the process of being arrested..." And Hancock responds dreamily, "They didn't catch him! He climbed into my exercise duffel bag and I carried him out."

#tossawary one piece #monkey d. luffy #boa hancock #fic ideas #long post

[beekeeperspicnic]

What a nice day to reconceptualise my entire game

Last night I reblogged this lovely post from @inkonice-main talking about Holmes and Watson's relationship as a great love story (whether romantic or platonic), and it's been clanging around in my brain ever since.

Just in case you stumbled across this post randomly, I'm currently making a cosy mystery Sherlock Holmes game set in Sussex, which has Holmes trying to put together a picnic for Watson. My plan is to write them in a close platonic friendship or queerplatonic partnership because that interpretation means a lot to me, but to keep it shipper friendly and leave the possibility open that they are a romantic couple.

The problem I've been toying over for the entire six months of development so far is WHY Holmes has decided to drop everything and make this ultimate picnic for Watson. What's his motivation, dah-ling?

And I've cycled through a few ideas:

He doesn't need a reason, elaborate theatre is how he shows affection. Perhaps true, but that doesn't give much of an emotional base for the game.

It's all sparked off by Watson writing and publishing the Creeping Man, the story with all the "The relations between us in those latter days were peculiar" content. But it never quite flowed for me. If Watson is happy with Holmes in Sussex, why is he writing so discontentedly? It also felt like telling-not-showing for players.

I thought perhaps it could be spurred on by Holmes having a nightmare where he's back on a case everything goes wrong. He realises that both he and Watson are in the twilight of their lives and if he doesn't tell Watson plainly how he feels, he may lose the chance. This is closer to working for me, but I think a dream being a character's primary motivation is silly and lazy, and this anxiety Holmes has doesn't seem reflected in the fact that they're living together happily. To the player it's obvious Watson already knows Holmes loves him, so there's no tension.

Then I read that post, and it all clicked. Because let's look at the Canon: it is a love story, but like most love stories of glorious intensity, things have not always run smoothly.

Holmes has withheld truths. He pretended to be dead for years. He constantly toys with his health and causes Watson pain and anxiety. All the paths Watson laid out for his life have been disrupted by his adoration of this brilliant but challenging man. Years of living together at this frantic, breakneck, head-over-heels pace seem to have taken their toll: Holmes suddenly wants to retreat from the world and take up his beekeeping, and Watson remarries and doesn't follow him, as he needs to live his own life. By His Last Bow, it seems they haven't seen each other for years.

"We heard of you as living the life of a hermit among your bees and your books in a small farm upon the South Downs," says Watson, suggesting he's never visited. But they reconnect, and thankfully the spark between them is still there. War is looming on the horizon, and both fear it may take their lives - "Stand with me here upon the terrace, for it may be the last quiet talk that we shall ever have," says Holmes.

That's where we leave them, looking out over a moonlit sea waiting for the dawn, exchanging words that they fear will be parting ones.

But the reader is left with the hope that perhaps they won't be parted again this time. War can't separate these two, surely? Nothing can.

So. That's where the picnic comes in, as a last coda in this great love story.

The War is over. Holmes and Watson have reunited. Perhaps Watson visits Holmes more often now, widowed once again. And Holmes realises that what both of them need now is to be together.

Except how does he say that, as someone who does not share his innermost thoughts easily?

The picnic represents the one chance that Holmes feels he has to say, I've treated you badly. I've made mistakes. But we can get through them, because we love each other. Let's not be parted ever again. Come and stay with me here.

The picnic isn't just a picnic.

It's a proposal.

So like, no pressure, players. :P

EDIT:

Just to clarify because I think my wording confused some folks - My plan is still to write them in a close platonic friendship or queerplatonic partnership and to keep it shipper friendly and leave the possibility open that they are a romantic couple.

The change is just that in my original storyline Watson had been living with Holmes for years, and now I'm playing with the idea of exploring the picnic being the moment when they commit to living together for the rest of their lives.

#beekeepers picnic #sherlock holmes #his last bow #johnlock #acd johnlock #holmes and watson #sussex retirement #game dev thoughts

[user-needs-new-hyperfixation]

Some of this is copy-pasted from my response to a comment on one of my fics several months back, so sorry to anyone who read that and will now have deja vu.

These thoughts are based on my perception/headcanon of Sherlock and Liam as an allosexual couple. I’m totally supportive of people who like to ship pairs as ace/queerplatonic/etc, but with these two I do find it a liiiiiitle bit of a stretch...have y’all seen the train scene? They have the horniest of energy, good golly. But that’s in my opinion, and anyone who sees it differently is absolutely valid; we’re here to have fun, so have fun with it!

Okay, disclaimers out of the way: the more canon Sherliam gets, the more I love that they don’t meet typical BL seme/uke cliches. I do catch myself borderline feminizing Liam on occasion, primarily because I want him to be held, and engulfed in too-big sweaters that smell like Sherlock, and tucked into comfy armchairs with blankets and books: and alas, gender stereotype nonsense makes that feel like feminization even though it really isn’t. And that’s totally separate from the way I perceive their potential sexual dynamic, which is basically: switchy as hell, but Liam is more prone to being a bit dommy.

But like...They're the same age and height and even weight to start with. There are no particular inequalities in their education or unbalanced power dynamics. Sure, the Lord of Crime is puppeting Sherlock around, but Sherlock knows that, and though he doesn’t feel he’s truly on equal footing with Liam until right before the fall, it doesn’t feel...skeezy. Liam never actually lies to him (*glares at English manga translation*). There might not be outright spoken honesty between them, but there’s a mutual understanding of the game they’re playing, and overall their energy is incredibly nontoxic for an “enemies to lovers” dynamic (not that they ever really managed “enemies” to begin with).

(Another disclaimer: I don’t have a problem with shipping toxic pairs, Hannigram is one of my all time fave ships. But the older I get the more I’m drawn to happy stories and healthy representation and boy oh boy has Yuumori been delivering.)

Anyway, back to avoiding BL standards: Liam is pretty and fashionable and a scholar but sometimes exudes such dom vibes. Sherlock is an athletic borderline himbo, vaguely wrong-side-of-the-tracks, but gets blushy and flustered easily. Liam is the damsel in distress saved by his dashing hero: but he is also the criminal mastermind taunting his rival. Liam is rich to Sherlock's working-class, except nope, Liam is an adopted East End kid and Sherlock's family is running the country.

So many gay stories, with BL being probably the worst offender but far from the only one, blatantly signal top/bottom, feminine/masculine. They practically put a giant flashing arrow over one guy’s head that says “HE’S THE GIRL IN THE RELATIONSHIP.” And as someone who is neither a gay man nor prone to entering relationships at all, I can’t really speak for the realism of these things; I know there are people who strongly align themselves with presentations like twink, bear, etc. And I’m sure many people have a strong preference for a particular role in the bedroom, especially in a dating scene dominated by hookup culture: but it also feels so disingenuous to me that anyone, particularly in a long-term partnership, would be like, “This is the only one thing I ever do.” Even in a straight relationship that sounds hella boring.

And Sherlock and Liam sidestep those assumptions so neatly, which up until chapter 67 I would have said is simply because...it’s not BL. But now we’ve got chapter 75 and they’re practically married. Mix together the almost undeniable sexual charge of their early interactions with their more recent LITERALLY VOWING TO SPEND THEIR LIVES TOGETHER and it seems reasonable to assume that sex is on the table. Yet nothing about the way they look or act demands the reader assign them certain sexual roles. They don't feel like a collection of stereotypes signalling top and bottom, they feel like an actual human couple who probably have preferences in bed but also like to switch things up and try new things.

I appreciate that.

#yuukoku no moriarty #moriarty the patriot #sherliam

[scribblespirit]

Happy Valentine's Day!! 💝 (+ long personal ramble lmao)

Well I did intend on posting earlier than this, but I wanted to wish a big happy Valentine's to everyone who actually follows along with the random crap that I post on this site-- and an especially big hug to all of my fellow aspec, arospec, and aroace lovelies!! I've always valued the celebration of all forms of love on February 14th, whatever dumbass society that we live in who decided that it's strictly a holiday for romantic couples can show themselves out the mfing door. Romantic love, platonic love, familial love, s*xual love, queerplatonic love, polyamorous love, animal love, ALL types of feeling & showing love are so wonderful and deserve to be celebrated!! If you feel sad about being single on Valentine's Day, don't let our stupid economy blind you to how loved you are in many different ways by many different people!! 🫶

On that note, this year marks a very meaningful occasion for me personally. I'm currently 21 years old, I learned I was asexual when I was 16 and didn't understand that I was arospec too until I was 20. I've always been totally content either celebrating Valentine's Day with my close friends, or basically ignoring the day all together. But as of last summer, I am now in my first Queerplatonic relationship with my incredible partner @rubinaitoart (and our beloved @lovelucigoosey, who is always with us 🎗️🩵) and I thought that today would be a fitting day to finally proclaim my cheesiness online lol! Rubin, I love you so so much and I'm seriously so lucky to have you. Thank you for being my very first Valentine's Day partner, for making me feel so loved I nearly happy-cry every time, and for just always being your supportive, talented, caring, funny, amazing and beautiful self!! 💜💜💜 /p

My patience to see your smile and give you the biggest hug face-to-face is dwindling with every day, but also knowing that we will get there someday is one of my favourite things to think about :'D To my online besties, Checkmate or otherwise, thank you for being the best long-distance found family I could ever ask for!! Every one of you guys means the world to me, I'm so grateful that you all put your care and energy toward a little chatty bundle of emotions like me. My bucket list purely consists of a list of each of you guys, and I will not quit until I get to properly see and hug all of you or else your name is not getting checked off of the bucket list!! But yeah fr thank you guys I fuckin' love my friends I don't know how I got so lucky 🥹💕

To my kittens (not that I expect they'll be reading this), thank you for being such little fluffballs of joy and chaos. Thank you for coming upstairs and insisting to check on me when I have been face-deep in homework for 6 hours, and for dragging me away for cuddles whenever I need it. To my parents (who definitely won't be reading this XD), thanks for being some badass and wonderful parents.

To Luci, I mean I check in pretty often so you probably already know what I'm gonna say. I hope you're happy, I hope you're smiling, I hope you're running and I hope you're free of pain. Love you always boo 🩵

I just have so much love in my heart that I wish I could share as much as possible. I love my family and my kittens and my friends from university who help keep me somewhat sane. I love my Discord friends/found family who help keep me very sane, and are always there to make me laugh and to celebrate achievements together. I love my queerplatonic boyfriend/partner, I love his voice and his hair, I love his obsession passion for The Arcana, I love his fluffy puppy Aster, I love how he makes me smile and that I'm capable doing the same.

Thanks guys. I really really love you all ❤️

...

(Also I haven't slept in like 38 hours and I'm struggling to stay awake as I write this so I hope it is at all legible, it's probably too long but quite frankly if you read the entire thing and made it all the way down here then massive kudos to you. I did warn that I was chatty and emotional, those two traits never go well together 😂)

#scrambles #queerplatonic #aroace #aromantic #asexual #platonic love #valentines day #valentines day 2024

[st0rmyskies]

I’m new to the LU fandom, I really love the series but I’m kinda confused about the whole link/link shippings. It’s not something I have a real issue with as long as the links in question aren’t related by blood or anything, but I’m really confused how the ships came to be????

Wildlight especially because yes, there’s definitely chemistry and a deep bond between them, but I’ve never thought about their relationship going beyond that and into sexual????

I always kinda felt like they’d be queer-platonic, like, they’re so close their relationship can’t be defined as purely platonic but it’s not sexual. There’s a lot of love and affection but it doesn’t fall neatly into romantic either?

They’re just. Two people who really care about each other and want to enjoy their time together while it lasts to the fullest and just. Experience life with the other by their side.

Mostly I just feel really confused and like I’m lacking a lot of information. I’m sorry if this doesn’t make sense or seems rude, I just don’t understand in general, and thought maybe you could provide some insight???

So I, for example, don't like mango. Some people love mango but and think apples are boring, and I would clutch my pearls about that and go on a 40 minute tirade about how apples are the shit. The same can be said for shipping. When it comes to ships, both with regard to types of ships and pairings, a lot of it comes down to personal preference. It's as simple as that.

That's the main idea here, anon. There's not any information you're missing. The rest is under the cut for specifics about Wildlight and other Linkships.

No matter how you ship Wild and Twilight, with even the various flavors of queerplatonic or simple friendship being considered "shipping" of sorts for the purposes of this conversation, as you said: it's obvious that the two of them have chemistry. They have history together. They look to one another when Time says cryptic shit like two siblings wondering if that lore drop from dad was true or not. Twilight scolds Wild for getting himself injured in defense of Wind and Wild doesn't hesitate to give it back to him a bit. In the most recent arc, while everyone on the team is affected by Twilight's injury in one way or another, Wild is the one who loses his mind a bit over the whole thing. Their bond runs deep.

Like you, there is a huge group of fans who look at that relationship and enjoy that flavor of queerplatonic rep. They choose to ship Wild and Twilight in that way, and that's cool. But some of us look at the same relationship and prefer to explore the spicier side of things under the same context, and that's cool too. There was recently a text post I reblogged that went something long the lines of fic writers "using preestablished relationships to give sex [in their works] emotional context." Without having to write thousands of words of backstory to get two people together, sometimes we as fic writers lean on the source material to establish the soft stuff so we can get right into the more hardcore fare. It's a fun little thought experiment to consider how two characters like Twi and Wild who have such obvious caring for one another in canon might engage with one another behind the scenes.

The same can be said for characters who don't seem to have a whole ton of on-screen chemistry, as it were. Sky is very obviously in love with his Zelda, and that's part of the reason why he was the focus of the poly!Sky series. Because yes, SS Zelink is adorable, but what if Sky wasn't limited to that relationship alone? How would his relationships look like with Twilight, with Warriors, with Time? For me, it's a fun exploration and skill-development exercise to write believable romantic and/or sexual relationships that you wouldn't expect in-universe, especially since they firmly aren't established in the source material.

I, for one, also enjoy exploring both healthy and unhealthy sexual relationships through fiction. By far, my favorite kind of couple to write has to be the train wreck: those who bring out the worst in one another and have incendiary chemistry in the bedroom. HSH WarrTime falls into this category, and Twilight/Dark does too in a different sense. It's that journey from "Omg this would NEVER work" to "Dark has one person and one person only he will behave for" that never fails to hook me.

In the end, it boils down to the same reason why most restaurants have such a diverse menu. Some people prefer one flavor of cooked-up relationships, others may prefer another. Some of us change tastes depending on the day. And maybe in relationships that you personally don't see romance or a sexual connection, to someone else it looks plain as day.

And that's all totally okay.

#stormy asks #anon asks #linkshipping #link/link #oh and dont get me started on the whole 'blood related' thing #that feels like a whole nother rant

[pollyna]

On this queer house (and I'm sorry for the running comments? annnd it got shippy lol):

Class '86:

Wolfman: gay but when the kids start using the moronsexual name he starts to identify with that because he married Hollywood, didn't he?

Hollywood: gay and he would like to say to his husband that he's the moron, not him, get it?

Sundown: bi

Chipper: bi

Slider: bi even if thought he was straight for the longest of times (did know u were that old, Ronnie)

Iceman: gay/homosexual/gay (the day he comes out to Ron he would liked to answer: and during summer the sand is hot. Something other earth breaking truth I should made aware of?)

Goose: queer (he serenades them and leaves them with a broken heart, and then Carole comes around and his brain fries once and for all)

Maverick: the bi king

Cougar: he's probably gay but he's repressed af so he says he's the most heterosexual person on this and other planets (I read too many past!cougar/iceman where he breaks iceman's heart to not be of part)

Merlin: not enough informations on him but after surviving being Mav's backset he will probably reconsider half of his life

Jester & Viper: they're tired dads™️ nothing else is required by them, that's says more than anything else.

People around the '86 class:

Carole: bi

Charlie: bi? (me🤝charlie: questioning her sexuality)

Class '22(?):

Rooster: bi (the tale wants that Bradley realised he was bi while putting milk in his cereal, at the tender age of 13, obtaining to spill milk everywhere and on his uncle Tom's uniform too)

Hangman: gay (the day he did coming out with Javy he presented himself drapped in rainbow flag because he had to make an entrance. He was fifteen and Javy was still asleep. The cuddle a lot after because Javy was still sleeping Seresin.)

Coyote: he's the tired bisexual of the group for the love of god someone should give this man a break

Phoenix: greyro bisexual (she is the dangerous thing Halo sleeps with. Who needs a knife or a gun when she is there)

Bob: aroace (his&Phe queerplatonic relationship is life. Apparently in this language is known as the ay-ay spectrum bc you can't pronounce the a someone should give bob the maracas to play as introduction when they ask him his sexuality)

Halo: aro lesbian (Phe says she kisses her in the softest and more determined way someone has ever kissed her)

Omaha: biromantic asexual (flying as backset with Halo give him time to talk about shit he isn't really comfortable talking with everybody around)

Payback: gay (when he was five he asked his mom if he could fall in love with a plane because they were absolutely the best thing ever. Now he thinks the same everytime he looks at Mickey)

Fanboy: pan (his granma ironed the the flag for his first pride because don't you dare going around with that thing all wrinkled)

Harvard: greysexual homoromantic (his bio on Instagram says, Harvard graduate, medical doctor, Naval aviator, my other half snors)

Yale: gay (he's a big fan of ds9 and most of his photos have a quote of the tvshow expect from when he postes about Harvard, than is poetry. It's nauseating, the entire squad hates and loves it.)

Fritz: raging bi with a little application for older people that everybody in the NAVY knows about (see his crush on Admiral Kazansky)

People around the '22 class:

Cyclone: he's bi but he won't let anyone knows because he's not weak

Hondo: pan (his wife made him a patch that he wears for all June and it has the dagger squad insigna in but it isn't in black and white but in blue, pink and yellow)

Warlock: queer (he says the term fits quiet well with him and honest to God Navy is already hard enough without him having to question his own label. His cat is the most affectionate creature this planet has ever saw and sometimes he takes her to work because it's a good antistress and leaves Cyclone and his problems out of his door)

Penny: bi™️ (she meets Charlie, at someone point along the line, and they have a sort of rebound night because of Maverick but it stops being about Maverick 0.01 second after they kiss.)

#everybody's queer in this house don't fight me #but we can talk about it and discuss them for sure #the 86' class #the 20(22?)' class #the people around them too #lgbtqia+ characters #hope i haven't forgot anyone 🌈 #i'm not going to tag everyone or the shippy part it would take me a lifetime #but i'm going to say this: warlock is the tuvok of tpg:mav #top gun(1986) #top gun: maverick

[biggiedraws]

Have you looked into QPRs/Queerplatonic Relationships? It’s kind of like that!!!!!

yes i know all about them! i actually have a lot of thoughts about this so strap in bc we're in for a long one.

for me personally, i dont think its really necessary to distinguish a platonic relationship where you live together or do other "marriage things" from any other kind of friendship. some friendships are closer or last longer than others and thats fine, so i just dont see why i would need a different word for it? like, every description of a qpr ive seen is different from a regular platonic relationship in up to 2 ways: 1. its "deeper" or "more meaningful" than regular friendships (implies that friendships cannot be as deep or meaningful as a marriage, which i reject) and 2. you do things together that regular friends dont do (but who says we cant do those with all of our friends? why can you only break these rules with one special person? when does it go from a slightly unconventional friendship to a qpr? idk doesnt really make sense to me). im sure those distinctions matter to some people, but i just dont really find them useful

and the deeper issue here is that society has drilled into us that we need to have one person that is The Most Important, that we rely on to fulfill all of our relationship needs. this is the concept of "amatonormativity": the idea that everyone needs to settle down with someone into a traditional monogamous relationship, and that no other relationship is as important or fulfilling as that one. and i just dont subscribe to that kind of hierarchy (for me personally! obviously not telling anyone how to live their life. your relationship boundaries and labels are your business). like im already throwing out the idea of a traditional marriage by not wanting a sexual relationship, so may as well throw out everything else i dont like while im at it. i dont think the person youre having sex with has to be the person youre closest with in the world, i dont think the person you share finances with has to be the person you primarily rely on emotionally, i think physical and emotional intimacy should not be reserved for sexual relationships, and i think every relationship fulfills a different role and combining them all into one Ultimate Most Important Relationship- FOR LIFE- isnt always a good idea. whether its a marriage or a qpr or whatever else.

and honestly i think the main reason this viewpoint is so uncommon (well, aside from the fact that most people dont really examine what theyre taught about marriage and monogamy and the way things "should" be) is because of jealousy. i totally understand the desire to be The Most Important Person in someone elses life, to feel wanted and needed by someone that you love. and finding out that someone youre very close to also relies on someone else definitely stings a bit! but just because something makes you a little upset doesnt mean that its actually bad. i think everyone should have lots of people to rely on outside of their partner, and people they trust just as much or more than their partner, and i think we would all be a lot healthier and happier if we accepted that and got rid of the traditional hierarchy of "everyone must come second to your spouse, because your spouse should fulfill all of your relationship needs, and if they dont then theyre a bad spouse"

like. sometimes people who are very good for each other are not compatible sexually. why shouldnt they fulfill those needs elsewhere? (IF theyre both okay with it. im not condoning cheating, im talking about unconventional relationship boundaries that are mutually agreed upon.) sometimes people who love each other do not agree on how a household should be run. why should they move in together just because their relationship has reached a certain stage? why should someones long-term friendships suddenly become less important to them once they get into a romantic relationship?? all these rules are made up! i reject them all! relationship anarchy!!

and just to be clear- im not saying that traditional monogamous relationships are bad. if you want those kinds of relationship boundaries, where one person is the most important to you and your relationship is very exclusive, more power to you! but that isnt the only option, and its frustrating how much our society devalues friendship in favour of marriage. i mean, even people who dont want a romantic relationship needed to define something thats MORE than "just friends". because friends dont get married. friends dont sleep together. friends dont raise children together. those things go beyond "just friends". but i say screw that! friends can do whatever they want together! i love my friends a lot and i refuse to be confined by what friends are and arent "supposed" to do together. and its a shame that you really only see these kinds of unconventional relationship dynamics in the polyamorous and aro/ace communities. everyone should question what they know about relationships and how theyre supposed to function, and decide for themselves what kind of boundaries work for their specific relationships. at least thats what i think

#so sorry for the extremely long reply! i just have a lot of thoughts about it #btw i wouldnt consider myself polyamorous. but my sister is so shes done a lot of research on it and we talk about it a lot #anyway if you wanna know more about amatonormativity and how its bad for everyone. theres a great youtube video #called 'amatonormativity' by tara mooknee. check it out its excellent

[cumulonimbuns]

hi, yesterday i stumbled across the knights self-destruction and got so hooked i stayed up until it was three in the morning and my head hurt and i physically couldnt keep reading, and now ive caught all the way up. i am so obsessed with everything, im always a slut for angst and thats what i initially clicked for but my GOSH i am so digging the relationships between zelda and link and sidon and yona and yona and link especially. i am so so so overjoyed to see link and zeldas relationship portrayed in such a queerplatonic-feeling way, being in a qpr myself. this fic may have had a hand in making me realize me being some flavor of poly so thanks for that. i adore the zora worldbuilding youve done with the distinction between heart and treasure and how both of these are so deeply committed and emotional ways of feeling towards one another. and GOSH the angsty scenes were delicious. yona is a riot, and i am so in love with her portrayal. much like link i fucking need zelda to see this.

and just when i thought more bliss wasnt possible i find your blog and see your wonderful art of this story.

also the scene with link breaking down in yonas arms and him wresting with the gang have my heart even though my all time favorite is the sages reactions to links breakdown and his reaction to them seeing him. also link telling zelda about what clouds feel like. god im just HGN. i am never getting my brain back to normal from this. have a nice day.

I MEANT TO RESPOND TO THIS AGES AGO BUT GOT BUSY. SO SORRY BOUT THAT!

First of all, THANK YOU SO MUCH!!! This made me very happy to read <3

I too am a slut for angst. I love to be hurt, but also need me that comfort. Which is why you all can take the solace in the fact that no story of mine will have an unhappy ending. SAD ENDINGS ARE FINE, I JUST CAN’T DO IT. I am not strong enough. I inflict much hurt but in the end it will be taken care of.

I’m glad the QPR vibes came across how I wanted them too!! I’ve always viewed/treated qpr’s with the same importance as romantic relationships bc they are!! So each pairing is as committed to one another as they would be to a romantic partner. It’s just how they express that love and some of the vibes are different. Another thing I’m so happy about is that you totally get where my brain was coming from with the ‘some flavor of poly’ bc in a way that’s exactly what’s happening. Like I said, qpr’s are just as valid and important as a romantic relationship, so there are some poly negotiations that goes down with all that. Making sure everyone is on the same page, comfortable, and agreeing.

It’s a bit hilarious how obsessed I’ve become with Yona. Nintendo barely gave us anything for this woman so I decided to run wild. Now I am completely insane with the amount of love I have for her, and it literally all stems from the fact I’ve turned her into my own character with all the random hc i threw on her at this point lmao. And I too need Zelda and Yona to meet.

And thank you so much for stopping by my blog to say hi and compliment my writing/art! It’s rlly made me smile. (And don’t worry, my brain is never returning to normalcy after this lmao, TOTK fan fiction/art has changed me as a person)

Here’s a lil doodle for you to show my appreciation (and a sorry for taking so long to respond fdhfhf, i know you probably don’t care, but I do)

<3<3<3<3 HOPE YOU HAVE A LOVELY DAY OR NIGHT!!! <3<3<3<3

#tksd #ask

[chemically-imbalanced-emo]

Polaris - Soulmate September Day Three

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Fandom: Sanders Sides (Web Series)

Relationships: Queerplatonic Analogical, Romantic Dukexiety, Romantic Loceit

Word Count: 1143

Also Available On AO3 !!!

"Seriously, Virgil. I do not understand her odd obsession with hiding my things."

Virgil hummed in acknowledgment, tossing the watch that Polaris had dropped in his lap back to Logan. "I don't know either, dude. She's just playing."

"Well her 'playing' is going to make me late for class."

"Don't be dramatic, L. It's Friday, your class doesn't start for an hour, and you've never missed a class in your life. Even if you were late, one time won't ruin everything."

Frustration aside, Logan smiled as Virgil held his own bracelet above Polaris' head, lifting it slightly higher every time she jumped to grab it.

These moments were nice. These small, domestic moments that proved they were indeed soulmates, amatonormativity be damned.

As he watched Virgil play with the fox, his eyes landed on the crystal hanging from his neck.

"You're wearing rose quartz," Logan noted, teasingly, smiling as Virgil's blush shone through his foundation. "You have a date tonight, don't you?"

"Oh shut it…"

"Nonsense, I'm just curious. Remus isn't it?" He thought back to the week prior, when Virgil had come home at night multiple times only to immediately collapse onto the couch, mumbling about something that Remus had said to him that day.

Virgil rolled his eyes, putting his bracelet back on and pulling Polaris into his lap. "…Yeah."

"I imagine you're just as nervous as ever."

"Actually, I don't think I am," Virgil said,  laughing lightly when Logan looked at him doubtfully.

"Oh? Not that I'm unhappy for you, but that is unusual."

"Yeah well," He shrugged. "Remus isn't a serious person, I don't need to be nervous around him. It's like with you, ya know?"

Logan scoffed. "I absolutely do not know. I am a serious person. All the time. It's a very large part of my personality."

"Oh right, strictly serious Logan. Who was definitely not staring at Janus' tits in the library yesterday."

"I don’t-" He sputtered. "That is extremely unprofessional!"

"So you're saying you weren't staring?" Virgil raised an eyebrow, smirking when he didn't receive an answer. "That’s what I thought. You really just gotta ask him already, dude."

"You are mean, you know that?"

"But you love me~"

Logan didn't answer that either, simply rolling his eyes (and definitely not blushing) and walking into the kitchen. He pulled a glass down from the cabinet, smiling exasperatedly as he heard scratching on the lower cabinets to his left.

He looked down to see Polaris sitting there, her head tilted to the left.

"What?" Logan asked lightly, crouching down to her level. "Care to steal something else from me?"

"She wants a pupcake," Virgil called from the living room. "Patton dropped some stuff off last night, I think they're on top of the fridge."

"Like 2AM, I think. Could you grab me a soda while you're in there?"

"Patton was here last night?" Logan pulled a box down from the fridge, verifying the label before pulling one of the small cakes out, tossing it to the fox that was now jumping at his legs. "I didn't see them, were they here particularly late?"

 

Logan frowned, grabbing the drink anyway. He threw it to Virgil as he sat on the couch next to him. "You really should get more sleep, you know."

"And you should really get some bitches, yet here you are, pining over a philosophy major. Speaking of which actually I need a favour."

"I-" Logan's jaw dropped, his hand pausing where he had been adjusting his glasses. "Why on earth would I help you after that comment?"

''Because you love me, we just talked about this. Now wait here!" Rushing, Virgil stood quickly, running down the hall where Logan heard him go into his room.

Still in shock, Logan looked over at Polaris, who seemed to be laughing. Hiding her face behind her paws as she ducked her head.

"You are never on my side, you know that?" Logan scoffed, rolling his eyes when Polaris jumped up onto the couch and softly hit her head on his arm.

The two sat there for a moment, before a large crash sounded from the hallway. Almost immediately Virgil stumbled back into the living room, obviously struggling to see around the pile of fabric in his arms. To Logan's surprise, he managed to make it around the chair nearest to the hall, dropping the fabric on the coffee table in front of the couch.

"Virgil I don't-"

"I know you don't do fashion or whatever but one of us," He pointed to himself exaggeratedly. "Is colourblind, and I have a date so please just tell me which of these shirts goes with the skirt. Be objective or whatever, I don't care."

Logan's eyes flickered down to Virgil's hands, which were now shaking. "I thought you weren't nervous." He said softly.

"I'm not!" Virgil stressed, sighing when Logan looked unconvinced. "Lo I just... I really like him, okay ? And maybe I'll look really stupid and he'll be all 'God why would I wanna be seen with this asshole' and then I'll die or something so please just help me?"

Holding his hands up, Logan stood and walked over to the table. "Alright, I'll help." He shuffled through the pile, looking for a specific top, before pulling out a deep purple halter top. He held it out to the other, speaking quietly as to not overwhelm Virgil any further.

"This one will make your hair look brighter. Wear some extravagant eyeliner with it. You'll look fine, dear."

Virgil ignored the shirt, choosing instead to throw his arms around Logan's shoulders, hiding his face in his chest. "Thanks Logan."

Surprised, Logan slowly hugged him back. "Of course, Vee."

The two pulled back after a moment, and Virgil looked at the clock on the bookshelf across the room. "Oh shit, you gotta go. Here, I'll get your book."

He walked over to the shelf, slowly scanning through the books.

"You know..." Virgil said, "I heard Remus mention super subtly that Janus is gonna be in the library alone tonight."

"And by subtly you mean-"

"You do not want to know what I mean."

Logan hummed. "Understood. Well perhaps I could stop by after class."

"Promise you won't chicken out?"

"I promise I'll do my best."

That seemed to appease Virgil, who smiled and handed Logan his book off the shelf. "Have fun at class, nerd."

Rolling his eyes, Logan moved his hand as to take the book, grabbing Virgil's hand at the last second. "Thank you, dear."

He smirked proudly at Virgil's immediate blush, watching him stutter. At their feet, Polaris looked between the two of them happily.

"Love you... or whatever."

"I love you 'or whatever' too, Virgil."

Virgil breathed deeply, dropping his head down on Logan's shoulder before mumbling.

"You're still a huge coward, though."

"Oh, says you."

#soultember #soulmate september #analogical #loceit #dukexiety #queerplatonic analogical #virgil sanders #logan sanders #ts sanders sides #deceit sanders #patton sanders #thomas sanders #sanders sides #remus sanders

[jagged1]

Try Me On 1/?

Fandom: Outlast Rating: Teen Characters: Waylon Park, Lisa Park Summary: A fashion and modeling AU Contains: Queerplatonic relationships Word Count: ~800 AO3 Link

Waylon fidgets in his seat. He knew he was going to be the odd man out in class, but he didn’t expect to be the only man. It’s not as common for men to want to become models, but they do exist. The stares he feels on his back only send him hunching further over his desk as they wait for the instructor to arrive. It’s agonizing. He hasn’t felt this awkward since he was 13 and puberty was hitting him hard.

He’s halfway into convincing himself to just take the loss and leave when someone drops into the seat next to him. He glances over and has to remind himself to keep breathing because the single most gorgeous woman he’s ever seen in real life is smiling at him, her dark brown eyes sparkling in excitement. Her strong, high cheekbones are only highlighted by her mischievous, but friendly, grin. She tosses her head slightly, sending her dreadlocks over one shoulder and revealing her sharp jaw. Her dark skin is beautiful and Waylon idly wonders what her routine is and if she’d be willing to share.

“Hi there. My name’s Lisa King. What do you say to being friends and showing up everyone else here?” She winks playfully, but is clearly, seriously waiting for an answer.

Waylon has absolutely no idea what to say, still reeling from her sudden appearance. Still, he can’t just not answer her. He hopes he doesn’t look too much like a gawking fool as he offers his hand for a shake. “Hi, Lisa, I’m Waylon Park. I don’t know about showing anyone up, but I’d love to be your friend.” He smiles, maybe a bit awkwardly, but sincerely. She’s beautiful, confident, and awe-inspiring. He’d be honored to call her his friend.

She takes his hand and gives it a few quick pumps, her grin growing wider. “Oh, you’re the earnest type, aren’t you? Well I hope you don’t mind me potentially making you uncomfortable while we feel each other out.”

“It’s fine,” Waylon reassures her. “Just give me some time to get used to you and I’ll be more relaxed, I swear.” He pauses for a moment before deciding he has nothing to lose by asking Lisa directly. She seems the type to dive right into a subject, no dancing around it, and he could use some straightforward conversation instead of all the tiptoeing he’s been doing so far.

“So why me? What makes you think I’d be a good match with you?” He can’t stop his nervous tapping, but he does keep his eyes on Lisa’s. He’s pretty sure he read her right, but it doesn’t hurt to confirm it.

Her smile softens at Waylon’s question. She tilts her head consideringly, even as she props it up with her hand. “Because you look like you need a friend. Because you stand out from everyone else, like me. Because you have to be a brave son of a bitch to be in this room.”

She reaches out with her free hand to tap her fingers alongside his, matching his rhythm, then switching to fill in between the beats of silence, before matching it again. Her shorter, softer looking fingers contrast beautifully with his longer, bonier ones, like they’d fill all the spaces in between perfectly.

His hand stills as he focuses on that thought. She takes the opportunity to lightly run the back of her nail against the edge of his finger. He barely registers the slight tickle as he stares, mesmerized at the picture this simple gesture makes. They look good next to each other; he can imagine how a photographer might light their hands to push the contrast further, how a stylist might adorn them with jewelry for the viewer.

But more than anything, she feels like safety, belonging, and home.

He swallows around the sudden lump in his throat and blinks back the tears in his eyes. Yeah... okay, he definitely gets it now.

When he finally meets Lisa’s gaze again, her whole demeanor has changed. Gone is the brazen, confident woman who swept into his space and in her place is a warm, open, unassuming girl just waiting for her friend to come out and play.

“Are you okay?” She murmurs. “That looked like a lot.”

Waylon reaches up to wipe his eyes, just to wake them up a little more, before dropping his hand and replying. “Yeah, I’m okay. I understand.” He hesitates, not because he’s afraid, but because the setting could be better. Oh well. “And I know you need me too.” He reaches for her hand, interlocking their fingers, and giving it a squeeze. “So, tell me more about your plans. I know you’ve got something in mind.” He smiles and she does too, bright and carefree in this moment.

#outlast #outlast whistleblower #lisa park #waylon park #my fic #my writing #Try Me On

[frigz-selfshipping]

@riris-dock u asked for this,,,

so um!! my plans for my s/i is like a ,, reincarnation trope. anything is possible in honkai.

i have some vague ideas of it , (utc, this is long)

an important detail: the common thing on my honkai s/i through each incarnation would be grey eyes. why? idk its the most noticeable thing i can think of when i think about my appearance lol

moth's first incarnation was more than 50,000 years ago, in the previous era. they were a member of the MOTHs and was close with some of the flame chasers. they would experience each day like their last, and in a time of the previous area, had always thought each day was their last. prior to joining the MOTHs, they were a writer and poet.

moth was closest with kevin, mobius, SAKURA, kosma, griseo, and pardo. kevin, mobi, SAKURA, and kosma were romantic interests. griseo was like their kid, pardo was a queerplatonic relationship. did they get with any of their romantic interests? yes. i say yes.

they worked as a scientist and knew of MEI's ELF plan. as such, they had decided to create their own. basically just meant to be another them with the same memories that was also planned to be updated when they died. it was built to assist the flame chasers and basically everyone else. the ELF is still active now and is looked after by kevin.

the actual incarnation had died during a battle against honkai. while also a scientist, they worked out in the field as well to collect data. but this had been a case of "at the right place at the wrong time" and had died on a solo mission looking for data. MEI had updated their ELF counterpart to know of the cause of death.

the ELF in game would be an ice support.

this incarnation would a top stigmata. showing moth facing into a mirror with the mirror being cracked, each segment formed from the crack would show pieces of kevin, mobius, SAKURA, kosma, and pardo. their expression is unreadable. scattered around them would be pieces of paper and a few open books.

their first reincarnation i have come up with lived around 500 years ago. this version of moth (which i will call andrew because idk just to make it make sense i guess) lived around the same area as kallen and otto. they don't have their memories of 50,000 years ago but still had the same eye color. this one is an artist that makes a living at the edge of the village.

when kallen had first gone on the run, they had come with her to assist her. through their travels they had grown close to one another. though andrew did catch feelings, being on the run would be a bad time to actually say you had any feelings for your friend. so, they had continued, and had met yae sakura

andrew was filled with grief as kallen had sealed sakura and the herrscher of corruption, even more so as they watched kallen be taken away. their cause of death here would be described as "died from a broken heart" as andrew would spend much of their time mourning over the loss of both of their closest friends. wanting to be more, but again, at the right place yet the wrong time. but would there ever be a right time?

this incarnation would be the middle piece. they'd be sitting on their knees holding a small necklace with a cross pendant. tears would stain their cheeks to represent the mourning of kallen. sakura petals would be fluttering down to the ground, but the ones on the ground would be dead and crushed up.

next reincarnation, and the current one, works at anti-entropy. once again a scientist but also had a job as a writer and an artist hobbyist. closest with lieserl albert einstein, and would even end up marrying her in the future during the games events.

slowly in this incarnation, they'd start to rediscover who they were from the past. meeting their ELF-self, finding files of their past at yae village and before, and all their other previous reincarnations.

i actually don't have many plans for this version hsdhfs i'm trying to keep this more lore-oriented. but if anyone wants me to, i can also post one that focuses more on their relationship. also need to write down how they'd be cursed with reincarnation, somehow.

this would be the bottom piece. they'd be sitting in a chair, their computer screen having multiple windows opened for multiple things. in their hands would be a sketchbook that had drawings and also poems written on it. several pages would be scattered across their desk and on the floor, many of them showing small doodles of their past self.

that's all i really have for lore-wise.

#honkai s/i #frigz speaketh #self insert #s/i tag

[absentcaryatid]

Yunho Comes Back

An ATEEZ fanfic by AbsentCaryatid

Set in JC world after Where Mingi Has Never Gone Before

4.2K words, Teen and up. Content note: single parent Yunho, asexual and agender reader using she/her married to Mingi and with aromantic, asexual Jongho as her queerplatonic partner, polyamory, relationship abuse briefly mentioned in passing but not present in story

~

Aurora hummed happily while painting one of her father’s nails. Yunho looked fond as he recalled, “Hongjoong used to do this for me sometimes, back when we had just debuted.”

On his other side, Nero was scrolling through her phone but stopped when her twin Aurora abruptly mentioned, “Dad, we need to talk.”

“This sounds important. Is it an update to someone’s sexual orientation? You know I support you both no matter whoever you are interested in or if desiring no one at all. But tell me, I always want to hear more about your lives.” Turning more serious he inquired defensively, “No one is hurting you in a relationship are they? Is something wrong?”

Aurora’s eyes went wide and she shook her head. “Whoa, no, nothing that heavy.”

“You sure? Aurora, you have been leaning more non-binary these days, if you want to update your pronouns just say the word. I will go to school myself to make sure the teachers know the new information and use it. I’ll even homeschool you if they don’t respect that.”  

“Dad! Dad! Hold up. I feel so loved the way you have my back with such enthusiasm but no that’s not it at all. Please listen. I love you for your concern, but this is about you.” He was taken aback with no idea what this must be about. A little hesitantly Aurora began, “You know we have tried to help you date.”

Yunho interrupted his daughter to point out, “Your classmate’s mom was perfectly nice but not right for me.” There had been a few attempts at dating here and there but the sporadic nature was indicative of his heart not being in it. He already had the ideal partners in mind and his kids kept his hands full anyway. “You don’t feel our family is missing something having a single parent, do you?”

This time it was Nero who reassured her father. “You are everything we could ever need. We just want you to have all the happiness you deserve. As perfectly as we fit together, you should have romantic relationships too, we won’t be living with you forever you know.”

He gave a rueful smile at the thought of his kids growing up and leaving one day, perhaps soon as the possibility of college neared. This had all gone too fast since he had adopted them as young teens.

“Dad, do you ever think about getting back with your partners? Uncle Mingi told me a bit of your history. Once I told Nero she agreed we should talk to you about it.” They both took note of the way Yunho’s eyes moistened. Aurora continued sympathetically, “We could always see something in the way you three look at each other. You seemed like a family too.”

Nero took her father’s available hand. “You gave up so much for us and that is something we can never repay. But at this point, nobody is going to challenge the adoption with a morality clause when we are so close to adulthood. We’d run straight back to you anyway if they did try to separate us.” Taking his unpainted hand between hers she gently reassured, “You should know some of our friends are polyamorous so of course we will be accepting.”

Yunho grinned and pulled them both into a strong hug while attempting to be mindful of the fresh polish on his nails. “Of everybody in the world, I know nobody loves me like my daughters. Here I thought I was taking care of you but it really goes both ways.” He looked at them with determination. “I would give up romance forever to keep my girls safe if I had to.”

“But you don’t, dad.” Nero truthfully noted. There was a pause where a few sniffles could be heard from Yunho then she continued. “So, you know parties and people aren’t really our thing. If you wanted to have a weekend away we could responsibly hold down the fort here on our own.”

“If you leave us money for sushi and fried chicken,” Aurora added with a grin.

“Let me think about this, maybe talk to a few people. In any case, I will plan for time elsewhere and figure out later if I want it to be alone or not. I’ll give you a date and you two can make plans of your own, even inviting some friends to sleep over if that interests you.”

“Go to your partners, dad,” Nero urged. “It hurts to think how much you gave up for us.”

“Please don’t look at it that way when it is you two who have given me so much. I would have sacrificed anything to be your father, walked away from ATEEZ if that is what it would have taken to be allowed to adopt, or given up my own parents if they had not approved.” The girls gasped at the impossible thought of what life would have been like without their doting grandparents or if their beloved uncle had not been accepting of them as adoptees.

Yunho pursed his lips. “If we do get back together, you know this means I’m asking you to be discreet. My love for my partners is something I would prefer you to hold close to your hearts.”

Both girls nodded immediately and Aurora spoke for the two of them. “All these years you have protected us from public scrutiny as Yunho’s trans kids. We owe you nothing less in return and are happy to do this for you.”

“There is no debt, you have been nothing but a gift to me,” he said while embracing his daughters again. Yunho began to tear up with happiness, something his children were accustomed to and found endearing about their dad. They started giggling and humming ‘Not Too Late’ and Yunho joined in with a smile.

Later that evening you picked up a video call from Yunho. For years now you had been cordially friendly at work in your role as KQ Vice President but had not sought each other out because it was still so painful to see him and not be together. He looked like he had been crying and your instinct remained to reach out toward his face on the screen in comfort as he spoke. “Perhaps you know why I called.”

You chuckled. “Mingi did say he had outed our mutual history in a recent conversation with Aurora. Did your girls take it well?”

“Better then I could have dreamed. I filled in a lot more. As much as she would have welcomed you in a motherly role, Nero was particularly glad you stuck to your childless boundaries and let me go rather than trying to parent when only interested in me rather than childrearing.”

You breathed a sigh of relief. “We never wanted to hide the past from your daughters, just keep them from thinking they were the cause of our breakup.”

“I think they understood that as much as they could. The kids love me so much and they do not want me sacrificing other sides of my heart for them so they flat out told me to run back to you and Mingi if that is what I wanted. They are young so they do not know things are not that simple, no matter how much I long for it to work like that.”

“Who says it can’t be that easy? The day you left I swore my arms would always be open to you and Mingi feels no different. Our breakup was something none of us wanted and you were right to be careful when it came to being able to adopt your children.” You closed your eyes and tried to manage your strong emotional reaction to this news. “I had not dared to hope you might return. Should I talk to Mingi?” You wiped away a tear of joy. “He will want to know what got me sniffling. Yunho, before you take me back there has been a development you need to be aware of. Jongho and I….”

He smirked like he had won an argument you hadn’t even known you were in, much less had lost. Yunho had recognized your attraction to Jongho long before you had figured it out for yourself. The youngest teammate had moved into the home you shared with Mingi which was something known by all the members of ATEEZ. However, the exact nature of the relationship was something not generally discussed. Jongho was always a private person but his brotherly affection for his former roommate was evident and if nothing else, it was understood how much Mingi had missed Jongho after leaving the dorm upon marriage. Truthfully, Jongho was there for both you and Mingi even if it was your closeness that had primarily motivated the relocation.

“We aren’t romantically involved, but it is far more than friends. We love each other but not the same way you and I do.” Yunho nodded understandingly. “Jongho did not replace you but offered deep friendship in that difficult time. My queerplatonic relationship with him is no impediment to being with you just as before and Jongho has no say over who I get involved with like Mingi does as my romantic partner.”

As you had suspected, this confirmation of his observations was not a problem for Yunho. “I left you in such an abrupt way. I am glad you found comfort in such a good man.”

“We cuddle sometimes, just to talk for hours and relax together laughing. Also the occasional showers and hot springs. Now that he has moved in we share the spare bedroom since my snoring was keeping Mingi awake. Jongho won’t mind me telling you he is asexual like me, as well as aromantic, but that does not make the relationship any less of one as you know firsthand.”

“So the rumors he had fathered a child by another idol are not true. I did not think that sounded like him.”

“You know some aces do have sex, Yunho.”

“Well, well, well. I have seen the pictures online, the baby does look a lot like him. Jongho always did have hidden depths.”

“It is not what you are thinking, but Jongho can tell you that story if he wishes.”

This latest update told Yunho he had some catching up to do with his friends but he had more pressing concerns at the moment. “Back to us, you don’t need to tell me what you get up to, it does not make a difference. I will always be yours.” Now Yunho grinned. “I feared you would be lonely. I owe him a lot even though he was not doing it for me, I am sure.”

“Jongho really helped me through the constant ache of your loss, what I thought could be permanent then.”

“Mingi did not want to be hugged for days at a time?” You each smiled at the familiar joke with a kernel of truth that you never tired of holding the men you loved. It felt fantastic to be together again with Yunho in whatever capacity he was willing to be yours.

He gazed at you lovingly. “I will never try to own you, your body is yours alone. Any happiness you can bring others is something good you put into the world. I could discover you in bed with the rest of ATEEZ at once and I would not want you any less.”

Your eyes went wide at that scenario. “I could never do that to Yeosang’s wife! The whole group?” You shook your head. “Definitely not on my list of things or people to do and I am glad I don’t get mental images to try to forget. That’s a definite no for me as close as we all are.” A smile returned to your face. “As it is, regularly getting intimate cuddling with three of you is already far more than I ever sought in life.” Remembering how much you needed his touch after so many years apart you asked, “Do you want to come over for dinner sometime soon then?”

“Aurora and Nero are shoving me out the door for a whole weekend if you will have me.”

Your face lit up with excitement. “Of course! I can’t wait to tell Mingi we have something big to celebrate tonight.”

Suddenly shy, Yunho asked, “Are you sure he’ll still be interested in me?”

“We’ll just have to find out.” The wink you gave was completely unnecessary because both of you knew your husband would be over the moon at this long hoped for reunion. Mingi had been just as bereft apart from his boyfriend, without even the solace of an additional partner like you had found with Jongho. As much as you had encouraged Mingi to pursue another romantic relationship, his heart was set on Yunho only. So, it was with great pleasure you agreed to Yunho’s plan to visit and after some longing looks you told him for the first time in many years, “I love you.” That set his tears off again and clapping a hand to his mouth, he returned the sentiment in a whisper before hanging up, leaving you alone once more.

In no time at all you were bawling yourself, shuddering with relief. Eventually you felt up to picking up the wet tissues all over the bed, washing your face, and interrupting Mingi in the kitchen with the important information. His reaction was similar to yours in a lighter degree but no less heartfelt. Wrung out, you both slept soundly that night in your own beds dreaming very pleasantly of Yunho.

Luckily all around, it was only a week later when the man himself walked through the door of your home and quietly sat at the piano bench to play his signature greeting, ‘Summer’ by Joe Hisaishi. While originally being held temporarily, the piano never had moved to his apartment because his autistic daughters did not want the sensory overload and Yunho, like any good parent, was very respectful of their needs. It had been easy enough to buy an electronic keyboard instead and use it with headphones whenever he felt musical.  

Reviving the old custom, you ran to the living room upon hearing the song announcing the presence of your other romantic partner. In a break from tradition, neither of you could wait for the song to finish. Leaping from the bench Yunho met you with a question on his lips. “Can I kiss you?” You offered a hand and a cheek and both were covered in the loving gesture before he wrapped you in the largest hug of your life. You felt like a life preserver to him and in fact that’s what you were in some ways. “To think I was once scared Jongho could replace me. I guess in some ways he did.”

“You know it isn’t like that, there’s no one who could replace you.” Yunho leaned into the warm hand stretched up to hold his cheek as you explained, “There has not been a single day I have not wanted you back. Mingi will tell you he felt the same when he gets back from a walk the store. He had to do something with all his nervous energy.”

Yunho radiated confidence underlining the truth of his words. “I don’t worry anymore, I’ve grown far more secure which is a strange thing to say because I had to separate from you and Mingi to learn that. I can survive anything, but now to have both of you to come home to on a visit while keeping my kids makes my life complete.” Looking you up and down he again wrapped you in his arms. “It means the world to me you do not hold our breakup against me.”

“Yunho.” Your voice went soft and soothing while stroking his hair, “I know how necessary it was. Seeing how well your daughters turned out makes me so proud of you for your painful, necessary decision years ago. Once I got over the shock, I truly felt pride watching you grow together.”

“They were the ones that pushed me back toward you, you know.”

“I think you really raised Aurora and Nero well, Yunho.”

“Mingi helped, he has made a fantastic uncle to my girls, Jongho too. You recall at the adoption he agreed to be their secondary guardian if something happened to my parents. Jongho really has been another brother to me. It is funny how things keep coming back to the four of us being a family unit bound by love in different ways.”

“Do the girls know how much Jongho means to me?”

“Being queerplatonic partners is yours and his to tell if desired but I am pretty sure they could roll with it. Young people today seem to understand an awful lot since they can research things online and I am impressed with them for that. You might want to hold off for now though. I am still waiting to see how well they can keep my polyamorous relationship with Mingi and you under wraps. I don’t like requesting secrecy from them but I think it’s for the best.”

“Yunho, was that a ‘kids these days’ but in a good way?”

“Yeah it was. Nothing makes you feel old like being a parent to children on the verge of becoming adults. I know they came into my life as young teens but it does make me feel ancient some days.”

“Well you don’t have to worry, I like older men. It even looks like you’ve got some lovely gray coming in over your ears where the color job is growing out. Fatherhood has suited you…,”  there was a pause as you debated the word choice, but then you added, “daddy.”

“Oh no, don’t you start too,” he complained good-naturedly, understanding it was only goading on your part. “Mingi’s been playfully calling me that for years now, ever since the girls came into my life.”

You laughed together as if you had been partners for a long time because in fact you had been and even with the multi-year interruption you were back to the same point instantly. It had been hard going without the constant casual teasing that brightened your day whenever you were around Yunho. Your relationship was a romantic one, but built on a strong foundation of deep friendship and admiration for each other.

“My love,” Mingi’s deep voice announced longingly after the front door closed behind him. Both of you turned at the familiar endearment but you shepherded Yunho into the arms of his former partner for a reunion as tender as your own. Only now did you realize the full hardship of the two men having to work closely together after their breakup, even to the point of providing Yungi fanservice for audiences over the years.

The opportunity to bury yourself in work and keep distance from Yunho as you had done was a luxury Mingi never had been given other than when each completed his public service term. Seeing them so joyfully together now, you hoped nothing would come between your husband and his boyfriend ever again. While their passionate kisses deepened, you retreated having announced you would be busy in the kitchen with music and dinner could wait as long as they needed it to be held. Unsure if they even had heard you, your heart felt lighter than it had for a very long time.

Both you and your husband had your boyfriend back in your lives and while it would take time to recover from the missing years, the certain future from this point on went a long way toward providing some healing. Frequent date nights and long weekends with your mutual lover resumed with wholehearted approval of his kids who acclimated to less time with their father at home.

Time and a new habit of snoring had brought changes to the relationship though. Yunho and Mingi shared the king bed of the master bedroom with space for you to freely to pop in anytime. Cuddle pile naps were a favorite all around. Often the bedtime routine would begin with snuggling in various configurations with your two romantic partners and a promise to return in the morning, but to spare their sleeping ears you left to your own bedroom happily for you would not be alone.

Jongho maintained a nominal residence at the ATEEZ dorm as did the others but his real home was with you and your shared bed. That had come about once the snoring began a few years ago. Mingi could wear earplugs sometimes but he really did not sleep as well so you had set up full time in the spare bedroom’s large bed. It turned out to be an advantage to give your husband better rest at night while you were free to move around the house without disturbing him if you came to bed late. None of that bothered Jongho who could sleep deeply, undisturbed by any of your noise. So there you were, Mingi and yourself a married couple each with your own bed and nighttime partner. It probably would not make much sense to outsiders but it worked well for all four of you and that’s the only thing that mattered.

You had even offered to divorce Mingi with no change in your heart or living arrangements if he wanted to be the spouse of Yunho instead but the preference all around was to preserve the privacy of their relationship with the appearance of you and your husband living with two good friends as roommates. Although your willingness to divorce was seen for the kind and supportive gesture it was with no reduction in the love and affection between you, both of you were glad it was not taken up. Publicly being known to be his wife gave you a warm feeling and he felt exactly the same pride to be your Mingi.

Yunho was content to be more subtle knowing there was no less dedication from his boyfriend and agender girlfriend despite the lack of publicity. He knew he had the support of his daughters, his partners, every member of ATEEZ, and the administration of KQ Entertainment backing him up if he ever wished to be acknowledged as in a very loving polyfidelitous triad. The thought alone was enough for him, and the recognition from his children and teammates that he was securely partnered.

For his part, Jongho also enjoyed the under the radar nature of your queerplatonic relationship befitting his aromantic and asexual leanings. Being open about those identities was not something important to him and would have impacted his attraction as an idol so he kept things very quiet. This allowed him to continue his busy social calendar of mutually agreeable fake dates with female idols to provide cover for their actual partnerships with other women. His discretion and good company had been so successful over the years that “dating Jongho” had become a coded reference to those in the know to recognize each other in the heavily closeted industry.

Within a few years Yunho’s daughters were on solid footing as independent adults and his stays stretched longer and longer with their encouragement. Finally he was ready to be settled in one place, as much as a hardworking and still in high demand idol could be. One evening, while his head was in Mingi’s lap on the couch across from the loveseat you shared with Jongho you asked, “Thinking about moving in then? The rest of us are all for it and would add you to the deed to the house as an equal homeowner as we did for Jongho.” You smiled at your queerplatonic partner and took his hand. Turning back to Yunho you confirmed, “You would not be living with us, you would be home.”

“I would like that, I would like that a lot.” And so Yunho became a permanent resident with the help of his daughters who were treated to a pizza feast for their labor. You encouraged Nero and Aurora to leave some clothes and other items in the newly enlarged spare room that would be theirs any time they wished and they happily took you up on the offer regularly as did the other members of ATEEZ and their children. It felt good to be part of such a big family. While children were not for you, getting to know your partner’s daughters as adults warmed your heart and you enjoyed the mutual closeness that developed over time.

When work took him to Seoul Yunho stayed at his former apartment where his children had taken over the lease or joined Mingi at the old dorm, now sparsely inhabited, when their practice ran late or there would be an early call. His time was divided among parenting his adult daughters who would always need him just as he needed them, local projects with ATEEZ, and touring but always coming home to his romantic partners you and Mingi, and his honorary brother Jongho. It was a good life filled with love and he had everything he could ever want. So did the rest of your unusual little family.

~

Here we draw the latest batch of JC stories to a close. Thank you to all those who have read along on another unintentionally written series. Should more stories jump into my head I will share them but for now I will slumber on this topic while I can. ~

Masterlist

#ATEEZ #ATEEZ Fanfic #Yunho x Reader #Mingi x Reader #Asexual Main Character #agender main character #queerplatonic relationship #polyamory #polyfidelitous triad #Mingi #Yunho #Song Mingi #Jeong Yunho #ATEEZ Yunho #ATEEZ Mingi #JC World #Yunho x You #queering tumblr fic culture #Kpop Fanfic #diverseinsertknet

[satbiym]

The Playbook

What are some perspectives, ideas, concepts, hacks, witticisms, any self-directed scam, con, hustle, hoodwink, gambit, flimflam, strategem and bamboozle that has changed your life?

I'll start:

How functional fixedness can be leveraged to think about what it means to have a specific purpose, and also solve problems

How abstraction is a way to not just create computer science algorithms but also have empathy via the power of imagination

Fake it till you make it

The trio of: Meaning-making, Wayfinding and placemaking

That natalie dormer gifset where she talks about how every interview she takes care to remember that the interviews want you to be their answer and are rooting for you to be their choice just so they can stop having to interview people further

That grey's anatomy scene where Erica Hahn realizes her sexuality and explains it as "When I was a kid, I would get these headaches, and I went to the doctor, and they said that I needed glasses. I get the glasses, and I put them on, and I'm in the car on the way home, and suddenly I yell. Because the big green blobs that I had been staring at my whole life, they weren't big green blobs. They were leaves on trees. And I didn’t even know I was missing the leaves. I didn't even know that leaves existed, and then...leaves! You are glasses."

When Cristina Yang from Grey’s Anatomy said “He's very dreamy, but he is not the sun, you are.”

The concept of queerplatonic relationships

The reality of capitalism-free labors of love within fandom spaces

sometimes you don’t need to have skin in the game, direct walked in their shoes kind of empathy or even to agree with someone’s choices. you just need to support them. John Oliver: “you should not need to insert a relative into a horrifying situation to make it horrific. For instance, I hate Sea World's treatment of whales on principle alone, not just because my father is an orca.”

“I don’t know how to explain to you that you should care about people” - blcksmth

Survivorship bias

Sunk cost fallacy - helped me make peace with never finishing/investing empty time on a show/movie/book/relationship that has stopped making me happy

The emotion of feeling liminal

Dissociation

Executive dysfunction

Masking

Emotional labor

Zoom fatigue

That tumblr post about how no writing is ever wasted, and sourdough

The importance of nuance, and the "X and Y can and should co-exist” meme

"Nobody can make you feel inferior without your consent" - eleanor roosevelt

Your first impulse reaction thought to someone is a representation of the society u live in, ur second thought is a reflection of you

"If you stand for nothing, you'll fall for anything" and the concept of "a hill I'm willing to die on"

captain america: "It doesn’t matter what the press says. It doesn’t matter what the politicians or the mobs say. It doesn’t matter if the whole country decides that something wrong is something right. Republics are founded on one principle above all else: The requirement that we stand up for what we believe in. no matter the odds or consequences. When the mob and the press and the whole world tell you to move. Your job is to plant yourself like a tree beside the river of truth and tell the whole world: “No, you move.”

Tony stark: "sometimes you need to run before you can walk"

Tony stark: "Sometimes I wonder which is the real me... this splendid metal skin I`ve created or the frail thing of flesh that wears it."

The untranslatable word: saudade

the existence of magical realism, surrealism and dadaism

in absurdity lies the truth (alice in wonderland where the abstraction and absurdity allows for us to talk about the actual meat of the matter without the noise of reality weighing it down)

i am a strange loop

the concept of cultivating antifragility (vs the ableist narrative of “resilience”)

the realization that it’s not you overthinking things, it’s them being anti-intellectual. sometimes the curtains are blue for a reason and i’m gonna discover why

:miranda priestly voice: oh. o h. you think this isn’t about you. it’s sort of comical how, based on your pretense of apathy and boredom, you think that you’ve made a choice that exempts you from being passionate about cool things, when in fact, you’re pretending cooldom in a world that was created for you by the people in this room… from a pile of “stuff.”

expertise is sexc actually

don’t let the normies get you down

they can take many things away, but knowledge isn’t one of them

you are in a mental prison and i dont want visitation rights, thanks

if you need to make yourself smaller to be able to fit in someone else’s world, then is it really worth it??? (Hilary Duff: Tryna fit a square into a circle aint no life~)

finally being able to discover that there is a word for why some people’s responses get my hackles up: some people respond with bad faith arguments

you can take a horse to water but you cannot make it drink it. somethings, some people, some relationships are out of your control because you cannot force someone to meet you halfway

Yuuri Katsuki: “When I open up, he meets me halfway.”

Trevor Noah explaining the power of humor on the Daily Show: “The first time I remember hearing a joke as a child was actually, I was with my grandfather and we were at a protest in the streets in South Africa. And I don't know what the protest was for. I'm assuming it was anti-apartheid or whatever, but I was very young and I was with my grandfather and we were marching through the streets and a policeman came by on a horse. And like, policemen on horses, like no one is comfortable, do you know what I mean? Like just generally as Black people we're never like, yay!  Yay, he's gonna do the thing. No, you are terrified of policemen on the horse. And this guy was trying to move the crowd along. And he's like, "Move, move, bloody hell, move, move." And he got to my grandfather and then my grandfather turned, and the guy looked and he was like, "Hey, why aren't you moving?" And my grandfather turned to him and he said, he said, "Master, master, can I ask you a question?"  And this guy was like, "What, what, what did you say?" He said, "Can I ask you a question, Master?" And he was like, and then he asked him a question and to give you the context, that weekend the previous weekend there was our version of the Kentucky Derby took place. And then the winning horse was celebrated and the president went and gave a kiss to the horse that won, and it was on the front page of the newspaper, the president kissing the horse. And so that's the context. So my grandfather turns to the cop and he's like, "Can I ask you a question?" And the cop, he's like, "What, what do you want?" And he says, "Master, why is it that your president "can kiss a horse but he won't kiss my sister?" And you could see the cop was just like, he's like, what? And he's like, "I don't know!" And I was like, and then my grandfather turned to him and he's like, "Because you haven't seen my sister." And I'll never forget the policeman's face. Like he burst into tears laugh. 'Cause he was like, "what?" And then he just started laughing and my grandfather was laughing and I'd never seen, two things I had never seen like a policeman laughing with Black people ever before. It was my first time seeing that and it was just my first time seeing like how a joke could diffuse tension, you know what I mean? And then I just remember growing up, I was like, oh, I wanna do that thing, I wanna. Yeah, I wanna do that thing more.”

escapism, power fantasies and reclaiming and recontextualizing tools that added to your trauma

regaining control, agency and autonomy is key to recovery

words have power - they are not victims, they are survivors.

“I don’t suffer from dwarfism, I’ve lived with dwarfism for thirty-nine years…I suffer from how society treats me.” - Last Week Tonight - Gene Editing

TBC...

#mypost #about me #concepts and ideas #quake concepts #fav

[arodabi]

okay, i’m finally getting around to writing this, and uhh ill say its for aro week too. this is written as an aro person directed at alloromantic people. when i refer to writing, i’m kind of using it as a general term for creative works. Here’s me throwing my hat in on the question:

Can you ship aromantic characters?

and my answer is,,,,, actually a question. Why do you want to ship aromantic characters? 

I want alloros to realize that for a lot of aros, we do not get to see ourselves represented often. I can actually count on like one hand how many popular canon aro characters there are, and on the whole, none of their identities are respected. people constantly try to weasel their way out of actually writing aro characters, or they just ignore or deny their identity outright. fandom spaces (hell creative spaces in general) are at best not welcoming to aros, and at worst actively hostile towards us. So when the first question brought up when a character gets canonically confirmed as aro is “okay cool but can i ship them???” or “that’s nice but how can i still write about my fave ship that involves them??” i want to fucking scream. its a slap to the face and it shows that people really do not give a shit about aros. you say stuff like that and all i hear is “my fictional ship is so much more important than representing your marginalized minority identity” so instead of me just sitting here and saying “yes you can totally ship aro characters, as long as you’re respectful!!!” i’m saying “can you stop and think why you want to shove an aro character into a romantic relationship at the first chance you get?? maybe you have some arophobia you haven’t worked on?? maybe since we live in an amatonormative world, you’re letting that influence your views??” because that question being the first thing out of your mouth when you see a character you like confirmed as aro? that’s already disrespectful towards aros in my book.

So back to my question, Why do you want to ship aromantic characters? is it because you can’t write characters without them being in romantic relationships? or because you think a character without a romantic relationship is boring? Because if so, that’s a bad reason and it sounds like amatonormativity is rotting your brain. 

Is it because you just really like a ship with the aro character? Because you can write two characters with a strong relationship without writing them as a couple. A strong friendship can hold just as much power as a romantic relationship.

Is it because fuck aros, i will write what I wanna write and I don't wanna write this character with their canon identity? because then you’re just an arophobic asshole that needs to work on your shitty opinions. aro representation is just as important as any other lgbtqia+ representation.

Now if you’re reading this and thinking “well i heard aros can be in queerplatonic relationships!” I want you to think for a second. Are you writing a qpr or are you writing a romantic relationship with the serial numbers filed off? Have you talked to aro people or read stuff actually written by us? because, yes, some qprs can look a lot like a romantic relationship from the outside, but that’s just it, you’re looking at it from the outside. qprs are more than just “romantic relationship with extra steps”, and i think it’s really telling how many times i see alloromantic people saying they’re depicting an aro character in a qpr, not a romantic relationship, but then they never ever make any effort to distinguish the qpr from any other romantic relationship they write or draw. It just feels like qprs are getting used by alloros as a gatcha any time an aro person objects to how they depict (or don’t depict) aromanticism. if you want to write a character in a qpr then go for it! but you need to actually do research, talk to aros, get multiple opinions and not just take the first opinion that agrees with you and run with it.

“But what about headcanoning a character as arospec?” now i will say before i go into this, i am aro, not arospec, so if an arospec person wants to come in and correct me at any part here im happy to listen. but my problem when alloros bring up arospec identities is a very similar problem to how qprs are often depicted. I remember when Peridot Stevenuniverse got confirmed aro (she did, do not argue this with me) people were jumping over themselves to assure everyone that “a character getting confirmed as aro just means they are any arospec identity” which,, uhh,, not true? i mean if an arospec person wants to see a canon aro character as, say, aroflux, i’ve got no problem, aro and arospec people can do what they want really. but, i do have a problem with all the alloro fans who were spreading this. because, do you really see the character as demiromantic? or are you using that identity to deflect criticism from erasing aro identities? are you actually trying to write a good depiction of a demiro person? or are you just writing normal ship stuff and slapping a “uwu ive never felt romantic attraction until i met you! and now i will act exactly like any alloromantic person!” at the beginning? being in fandom spaces, i do see the occasional fic actually depicting an aspec identity (i say aspec her because aro is so rare that most of these examples i’ve seen have been acespec identities rather than arospec) but like 99% of the time, that’s written by someone who actually shares the identity. before you use our terms and identities to cover your ass when you erase us, consider not fucking doing that. consider listening to all aros and getting our thoughts and input. 

And last here is “but what about romance positive aros?” now i think most of what i’ve said previously can be applied here. the only thing i wanna add is, i think its very interesting that almost every time i see non aros depict aros, they always write them as very into romance, very open to be in romantic relationships, and very quiet about their aro identity. despite the character in canon not showing any of these traits. romance positive aros are good and important, but not every aro is romance positive. there’s quite a few of us that are romance repulsed, and alloros only depicting aros as super romance positive no matter what is suspicious to say the least. if an aro character is shown to be open to participating in romantic activities in canon then of course write them that way. but if an aro character is shown to be uninterested in, or even actively against romantic activities then respect that too.

so, to wrap up my thoughts in this ramble: please ask yourself why you want to ship aro characters so bad, because if the only reason is that amatonormativity has brainwashed you into not being able to write, or draw, or do anything with a character without them being in a romantic relationship, then you uhhh need to work on that, that’s honestly a writing/creative flaw imo. if you like the relationship dynamic between an aro character and another character, consider making them friends. friendship is not less powerful than romantic relationships. nobody is ever too old for the power of friendship trope. If you’re erasing an aro character’s identity because fuck aros, then fuck off somewhere far away from me and work on your bullshit. qprs, arospec identities, and romance positive aros are all very real, very important parts of the aro community, but please talk to other aros about them and actually make an effort to understand how these things work, dont just assume. And also don’t use these things as a way to erase aro identities and cover your ass if get called out. its disrespectful towards all aros.

The most important thing to do before writing or creating work with aro characters is to talk to aros, and not just the aros that agree with you. look up what a qpr actually is, learn how aros experience their arospec identities, talk to aros with multiple outlooks on romance. and if you can’t bring yourself to reach out, at least read through our own writings, whether that’s fiction, or informational posts, fuck, look through our memes if u wanna. Just please actually make an effort.

So, Can you ship aro characters? its complicated. look at trends in your fandom, question why you want to, and do research. Be an aro ally, listen to us. That’s really the most important thing.

#oh wow this got long #hope this helps #aromantic #aro #writing #shipping #now to tag fandoms unfortunatly #critical role #caduceus clay #steven universe #peridot #su peridot #hazbin hotel #alastor #thats honestly all the popular characters i can thing of that are canon aro #ofc this goes for nonpopular characters too but i dont wanna hunt all of those down #so im just getting the big names #hope this doesnt get blacklisted for being tagged w hazbin and su lol rip #fandom #fanfiction #fanfic #long post

[bluejayblueskies]

in the reciprocal

Words: 8.3k

Relationships: Jon & Martin (QPR)

Tags: Season 1, Scottish Safehouse, Light Angst, Queerplatonic Relationships, Gray-Aro Martin, Kiss-Averse Jon, Kiss-Averse Martin

Warnings: internalized arophobia, mild external arophobia, mild internalized homophobia, canon-typical Lonely depression and dissociation, teasing someone about a crush (in a friendly manner), mention of canon character death, Martin briefly pretending like he still has romantic feelings for Jon and participating in a romantic relationship that makes him uncomfortable (this is addressed and resolved)

Ao3 link in source

.

Martin’s relationship with romance has always been … complicated.

He has distinct memories of his early teenage years, when the major topic of conversation had shifted abruptly to who had a crush on who and who had kissed who after school and who had asked who on a date. Martin had never really participated in those conversations, though that could be owed more to the fact that he didn’t have many friends than that he wasn’t interested.

Because Martin was interested. The idea of romance had always intrigued him—a fairy-tale thing where there was somebody who would choose you and love you and never let you be alone ever again—and he wanted, more badly than he knew what to do with sometimes, to be in love.

The world, as Martin quickly learned, was not a fairy tale. No matter how much Martin tried to pretend otherwise. In fairy tales, when people got sick, they eventually got better. In fairy tales, parents always loved their children and showered them with affection. (Or were villainous and cruel, locking their children away in towers and treating them like objects to be discarded. Though Martin was never fond of those stories.) And in fairy tales, love was always easy. It wasn’t something that had to be learned or forced. It was instead like breathing—nearly effortless unless you thought about it too much—and, like breathing, it was something that everyone did.

So Martin couldn’t understand why he was so bad at it.

Just before he’d dropped out of school to work full time after his mother couldn’t anymore, he’d been asked on the first and only date of his entire life. Nino had been his friend for nearly a year and a half, and Martin loved spending time with him more than he loved most things in his life back then. School was growing more difficult as Martin had to take on a second part-time job, his mother was growing sicker and shorter with her temper, and he was quickly coming to the realization that he was … different.

After all, he’d never once felt the same kind of affection toward the girls whose names he attempted to doodle in the corners of his notebooks as he felt toward Nino.

Coming to terms with the fact that his first real crush was on his very lovely, very male best friend was … hard. But one day, Nino had bumped his shoulder against Martin’s as they sat in the library and had said something funny that Martin has long since forgotten, and he’d found himself smiling widely. His heart was a stuttering mess in his chest, his stomach twisted up into knots, and … things hadn’t been so bad, then.

Loving Nino had felt safe. Looking back, Martin is sure that Nino had been able to read all of Martin’s stutters and flushed cheeks and clumsy attempts at affection for what they were, but at the time, it had felt like a private indulgence. Just another way for Martin to spend time with the boy who was gradually becoming the most important person in his life. (Behind his mother, that is. She would always come first.)

What was funny about the whole situation, in a way that was actually not very funny at all, was that Martin was even considering asking Nino out. He liked to fantasize about what it would be like—creating clumsy scenarios in his mind where he would slip a note into Nino’s backpack before they parted ways or blurt it out on their way to the tube or whisper it quietly under his breath in the library so that nobody else could hear it but them. He imagined what it would be like if Nino said yes, his face lighting up with a smile and his hand reaching for Martin’s.

He tried to imagine what would happen after that—the date, the kissing (which he could never quite picture without grimacing and pushing the image quickly away), the hand-holding, the…

Well. He actually wasn’t quite sure what was meant to come after.

(Like breathing. It was supposed to be like breathing.)

It was funny, except it wasn’t. Because when Nino pulled Martin aside on their way home one day, face flushed slightly darker than normal, and hesitantly asked if Martin would like to go to a movie with him in a way that was very clearly meant to be a date, Martin expected to feel happy. He expected to feel relieved, that he hadn’t had to muster up the courage to ask Nino himself, or nervous, that he was finally going to be pursuing a romantic relationship with the boy he cared so much about.

Instead, he felt … stiff. Uncomfortable, like his skin was suddenly just a bit too tight. He felt the sudden urge to hide, or maybe to run, or to vanish into thin air so he didn’t have to be standing here anymore, now desperately trying to avoid the eyes of the boy who had just bared such a vulnerable part of himself to Martin.

Confused, Martin tried to look within himself for that warm, stammering affection that had been there a minute ago and found it transformed into something awkward and tense and devoid of all desire for romance. But that didn’t make any sense, he thought as he stared blankly at Nino, who was becoming increasingly nervous, shifting from foot to foot as his mouth pinched into a thin, anxious line. He remembered liking Nino. He remembered the fantasies, remembered coming up with a thousand scenarios just like this one, remembered stammering and stuttering and wanting so badly to take Nino’s hand in his own.

It was like remembering a story he’d been told. Just a fairy tale.

“You … can just say no,” Nino said finally, and Martin felt a curl of guilt in his stomach at the clear upset in Nino’s eyes. “If you have to think this long, it’s … probably not a yes. Is it.”

Yes, Martin tried to say. It’s a yes—of course it’s a yes, I’m just … surprised. Maybe things would make more sense if they actually went on a date. Maybe Martin would just … sort himself out. He was just surprised, or maybe in shock.

He loved Nino. He did; he knew he did. He just … had to figure out how to bring it back.

He didn’t get the chance. (Though, thinking back on it now, Martin knows that even if he’d tried, it wouldn’t have worked.) Nino pulled back slightly, hands going to the straps of his backpack self-consciously. “Right,” he said, sounding terribly embarrassed, and Martin felt himself mirroring the emotion. “S-sorry, I … I guess I was reading things wrong. I—I thought that you … never mind. It doesn’t matter.” Nino forced a smile then, and it lacked all the bright and shining things that Martin liked about it. “S-suppose I’ll … see you in school tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” Martin managed to say. And then Nino was gone, and Martin walked home alone.

He dropped out a few months later. Nino said that he would call, but Martin has always been good at lying and even better at telling when somebody else is doing so. And Nino hadn’t been putting much effort into it.

That was … probably for the best. At least Martin didn’t have to feel that dizzying, sickening sensation of guilt and awkwardness every time he looked at Nino anymore.

So, there it was. The world was nothing like a fairy tale. His mother only ever got sicker, her affection for him only ever grew more a thing of the past, and love was…

Well, love clearly wasn’t for him.

That didn’t stop him from falling hopelessly, irrevocably, head-over-heels in love with Jonathan Sims.

.

.

.

Martin, as a rule, makes a habit of not talking about his love life. For one, because there is a distinct lack of it (a fact that he much prefers but doesn’t generally feel like explaining in detail). And for two, because Martin just knew it would turn into something like this.

Martin places his head in his hands to hide the flaming red of his cheeks. “Can we not talk about it?”

“I think we’re actually obligated to talk about it now,” Tim says with what Martin is absolutely certain is a cheeky grin. “Given that you’ve just admitted that your not-so-mysterious crush is Jonathan Sims.” He drops his voice to an exaggerated conspiratorial murmur. “Is he the one you’ve been writing poetry about then?”

“I don’t have to say anything,” Martin mumbles into the very clammy palms of his hand.

Tim, fortunately, drops the poetry topic. He unfortunately does not drop the crush topic. “I mean, don’t get me wrong,” he continues. “You’ve got good taste. The whole … sweater vest, ‘disgruntled professor’ vibe is attractive, and he’s funny, you know? In his own way.”

Martin lifts his head from his hands and gives Tim an exasperated look that he hopes screams can we please stop talking about this. Tim must misinterpret it as jealousy instead because he holds his hands up in the air placatingly. “Hey, no competition here. We’re just friends, and I’m not really interested in dating anyone at the moment.” A pause. “Though, I suppose if Jon asked, I wouldn’t say—you know what, that’s not helpful.”

“He is pretty hot,” Sasha pipes in from her spot on the break room couch. “I definitely get where you’re coming from.” Then, after Martin turns that same exasperated look onto her: “Just trying to show our support for the cause, Martin.”

“Yeah, well—don’t.” Martin stands, maybe a little bit too abruptly, and crosses the room to where the kettle sits on the counter. He fills it in the sink and then clicks it on, the blue light reflecting off the countertop and faintly illuminating his hands.

“Hey,” Tim says, leaning against the counter next to him and giving him a surprisingly serious look. “I’m sorry. If talking about this makes you uncomfortable, we’ll drop it.” He mimes zipping his lips closed and throwing away the key. “No questions asked.”

“I’m pretty sure talking afterward negates the ‘zipping your lips shut’ thing,” Martin says, which earns him an amused huff of laughter and a gentle elbow in the side. He finds himself smiling, if only briefly before it falls from his lips once again. “And it’s … fine. I’m not upset. It’s just…” He hesitates, considering, and settles on a suitably vague, “It’s complicated.”

Tim makes a noise of understanding. “Say no more, Marto. Consider the subject dropped.”

“Thank you.”

There are a few moments of silence between them, filled only with the gentle hum of the kettle. Martin reaches for the mugs, and as he pulls four from the cabinet, Tim says abruptly, “So wait—is that why you always bring him tea?”

Martin nearly drops the mugs. “Tim.”

“Sorry, sorry.” Tim grimaces at him sheepishly. “I’m dropping it.”

Martin nods and pulls the box of tea from the cupboard. As he gets the mugs ready, however, he can feel Tim’s eyes on him, heavy and curious. Finally, it gets to be too much, and Martin sets the box down with a sigh. “I bring him tea because he never leaves his office and at least this way he’s hydrated. If you absolutely must know.”

“Caffeine is a diuretic, you know,” Sasha says from where she’s still sitting on the couch.

“Yes,” Martin says tersely, grabbing the kettle as it clicks off, “but it’s better than nothing.”

The tea isn’t related to the crush. It really isn’t. But Martin knows that the more he tries to make excuses, the more it’ll seem like he’s deflecting, which will just be counterproductive. So he prepares the tea and passes Tim and Sasha’s mugs to them. Then, fully aware that Tim and Sasha are watching, he grabs Jon’s mug and makes his way to his office.

He doesn’t knock. He found out his first week here that Jon doesn’t like it when people knock and prefers them to verbally announce themselves instead. It wasn’t because Jon had told him; Martin gets the feeling that Jon is too stubborn to admit to that sort of weakness in front of him. It was because of the subtle tension in Jon’s shoulders every time Martin opened the door after rapping three times on the doorframe; the way his voice sounded ever so slightly pinched when he asked what Martin wanted.

So Martin says, just loud enough to penetrate the thick oak door, that he’s coming in, and then, after a moment, he opens it.

Jon is sitting at his desk, mountains of papers and files stacked on either side of him. His laptop is open in front of him, and he’s currently focused intently on something on the screen, the harsh white light of the LCDs reflecting off his glasses. He doesn’t seem to notice when the door opens, but when Martin takes a few steps closer and gently clears his throat, he looks up from the screen, blinking a few times as his eyes adjust to the dimness of his office.

“Ah,” Jon says, his gaze landing on the mug. “Right. You can…” He looks at the disastrously cluttered surface of his desk and, after some consideration, pushes a stack of papers to the side to make a mug-sized gap in the mess. “You can place it there.”

Martin does. He doesn’t mean to linger afterward. Even though things are ... better between them now that Martin is staying in the Archives and Jon seems to have softened slightly toward him, they’re not quite at the ‘hold a casual conversation’ stage of their relationship yet. Still, Martin finds himself standing in front of Jon’s desk long enough for Jon to glance back up from his computer, a small furrow forming between his eyebrows.

“Did you … need something else from me?” he says, sounding more confused than annoyed.

No, Martin means to say. I’ll be going now.

Instead, he says, “How are you doing?”

Jon stares blankly at Martin, like he doesn’t understand the question. Martin briefly curses his complete lack of a verbal filter at the worst times and purses his lips, telling himself that frantically trying to rescind the statement will only make things worse. “I’m … fine,” Jon says with a hint of incredulity in his voice, like he can’t fathom any reason why Martin would want to inquire after his well-being.

Good, Martin opens his mouth to say. Let me know if you need anything else.

Why he says instead, “I just … noticed that you haven’t been going home lately,” he doesn’t know. He hasn’t had a crush in so long—is this what it was like the last time? God, it’s a bit embarrassing, isn’t it?

Jon still looks bewildered, though there is an edge of irritation to his voice when he says, “There is a lot to do here, Martin. I assure you, I can take care of myself.”

“Right, yeah.” Martin fights the urge to rub his hand along the back of his neck, settling for the inside of his wrist instead. “Just … I know I’ve taken your cot recently, and if you’re not going home at night, I—I would hate to feel like I’m making you sleep at your desk.”

“You are not making me do anything. I can make my own choices.” Jon purses his lips for a moment before saying, more gently, “Besides, you … have more need of the cot than me at the moment.”

Martin can’t help the little shudder that goes through him at the reminder of why, exactly, he is in need of the cot. “Yeah,” he concedes. Then, because it’s only been a week or so and he still feels like he hasn’t said it enough: “Thank you again, for … for letting me stay here.”

Jon’s expression softens into something almost sympathetic, just for a moment, before growing closed-off and shuttered once again. Martin’s traitorous heart thuds in his chest at the sight, just like it had when Jon had listened to his story impassively and then matter-of-factly offered him the cot like it was the only logical thing to do.

(He hadn’t understood why he’d reacted like that—pounding heart, sweaty palms, cottony mouth—until that night, staring at the dark, cracked ceiling of the Archives and running Jon’s words over and over again in his mind. But it wasn’t surprising, was it? Of course Martin would find himself attached to his prickly, no-nonsense boss who kind of hated him the first moment he showed him an ounce of kindness.)

“It’s … really no problem at all,” Jon says, sounding a bit stiff in a way that’s hopelessly endearing, like he doesn’t quite know what to do with Martin’s gratitude. Then, even more stiffly: “You’re … doing all right?”

The tentative concern in Jon’s voice is enough to bring a flush to the tips of Martin’s cheeks that he desperately hopes can’t be seen in the low light of Jon’s office. “Y-yeah. As well as I can be, I—I suppose.”

“Well,” Jon says in a businesslike voice, like he’s delivering a report, “if you need any further accommodations, please let me know. Given that this was a workplace incident and you were investigating the Vittery building on my request, the Institute and I are responsible for ensuring that you remain safe while you’re … displaced from your previous home.”

Martin has always been good at reading people. And for all that Jon wears various masks of professionalism and skepticism and authority, he’s still surprisingly easy to read. It’s easy to control an expression, to control a tone of voice, but Jon’s eyes are always so much more emotive than he probably means them to be. Right now, they’re flitting around the room, from Martin to the floor to his desk to the floor again, like they’re afraid to settle on one place for too long.

It’s easy to identify the emotion as guilt. It takes Martin a few more moments to place what, exactly, Jon is guilty for.

“It’s … not your fault, you know,” Martin says slowly. “What happened with Prentiss. You’re not … responsible for it.”

Martin expects Jon to brush him off—to tell him that he’s being ridiculous. He doesn’t expect him to say, with a voice that leaves no room for argument, “I am not responsible for Jane Prentiss’ presence in the Vittery building, yes, nor for the fact that she followed you home. But I would be remiss not to acknowledge that you encountered her while following up on a statement, per my request, and that I … was not as cautious as I should have been with regards to sending you on dangerous assignments.” Jon’s eyes are sheepish now, and a touch concerned. “I will be sure to take the appropriate precautions in the future, as it would be unacceptable for you to be injured or … otherwise hurt whilst performing your duties as an archival assistant.”

It’s not a heartfelt statement by any measure. Really, it’s just common decency, and definitely what should be expected from one’s superior in a line of work that is (apparently) much more dangerous than it appears to be on paper. But Jon’s eyes when they finally turn to Martin are softer than he’s ever seen them, even as his expression remains carefully neutral and professional, and it feels like Jon has just said something profoundly kind.

Martin’s heart has some stuttering, skipping things to say about that particular fact.

“Um,” Martin says eloquently. “Th-thanks.” He considers mentioning again that Jon really isn’t at fault for sending him into a building that, for all Jon knew, contained nothing more than a few very persistent spiders. But he doesn’t. Instead, he holds the little scrap of kindness he’s been given close to his chest, stammers something about getting back to work, and leaves Jon’s office before he says something embarrassing like I like it when you care or you have kind eyes or we could share the cot if you stay too late.

Tim wiggles his eyebrows at Martin as he takes a seat back at his desk, and Sasha gives him a much more subtle knowing look. Martin ignores both of them and busies himself with the statement sitting on the corner of his desk, diving back into the formatting he’s been struggling with all morning.

Jon is his boss. Jon doesn’t even really like him, when he’s not feeling guilty for almost getting Martin killed. It’s never going to work between them.

A bit of the tension bleeds out of Martin’s shoulders. His eyes drift back toward the door to Jon’s office—the golden nameplate outside it, embossed with Jon’s name, the frosted window, the old, warped wood—and he feels something light and comfortable settle in his chest.

Jon is prickly and lovely and blunt and awkwardly conscientious and completely unattainable. Jon is never going to look at Martin with affection in his eyes and ask Martin to run away with him to pursue a romantic, fairy-tale ending, and Martin is never going to feel that intense, awful discomfort that seeps into the gaps where the love once was. He can blush and stammer and imagine holding Jon’s hand and kissing the inside of his wrist and tangling his foot with Jon’s underneath a table, and nothing will change.

It’s never going to happen between them. And it’s better that way.

.

.

.

The car ride to Scotland is quiet. Jon keeps sneaking glances at Martin when he thinks Martin isn’t paying attention, as if Martin will vanish if he doesn’t keep a watchful eye on him. It should be irritating, but … maybe he’s right. Martin doesn’t feel fully here yet. He still feels empty and numb, like all of the emotion and life and things that make him him have been cut away, consumed by the salty fog that had filled his lungs and stung his throat as he inhaled.

Peter Lukas is dead. Martin had felt it happen with a sort of empty detachment—the ripples of fog as Peter disintegrated into nothing but mist and static. Jon hasn’t spoken about it since they left the Lonely, but Martin had seen the tension in his shoulders as they’d returned to their flats to pack and taken the keys to the car from Basira and made their way painstakingly through London traffic.

Martin had wanted to tell Jon that it was all right—that everything was going to be okay. But his throat refused to form the words. It took all of his energy to remain present and solid, and he just … couldn’t. So he remained silent and gripped Jon’s hand as tightly as he was able and focused on not giving in to the Loneliness that still lingered underneath the surface of his skin.

Now, both of Jon’s hands are on the wheel of the car, his fingers and elbows rigid and stiff. Generic pop music spills out of the radio, the signal distorted enough that Martin only catches about half of the song, the rest swallowed by static. Better than him, he thinks absently. Right now, he feels as if he’s only static.

He can’t remember if he was like this before the air opened wide in front of him and he was swallowed whole by the fog, the panopticon gone in an instant and replaced with nothing but endless gray. He was … close, he thinks. Every day, things grew dimmer, his own thoughts and feelings more difficult to get a handle on. It grew harder and harder to remember why he was resisting at all. What his goal was, other than to just … be alone. He thinks he would have forgotten entirely, had Jon not been three floors beneath him, alive and breathing and reminding him that he was doing this—all of this—for a reason.

It had been … lovelier than Martin ever could have imagined, falling in love with Jon. It grew within him like a garden, new flowers cropping up every day. Some were white and delicate, blooming in his lungs when he looked at Jon and felt the all-consuming need to bundle him up in a blanket and make him tea and hide him away from the things in the world that wanted to hurt him. Others were purple and angular, blossoming with every lunch they had together and story Jon told him. And some were red and thorny, roses with waxy petals that made Martin’s cheeks grow hot every time Jon said his name like it was special or treated him kindly or smiled.

So when things grew difficult—when the loneliness crept too close, when he grew too comfortable being invisible, when he had to look Jon in the eye and tell him that he didn’t want to see him—Martin retreated to the quiet garden in his soul. He ran his fingers along the petals and stems and leaves and reminded himself that he needed to do this, or he’d lose Jon again and the garden would shrivel and die.

It had been an easy decision, in the end.

There’s a soft crunching noise, and Martin breaks free from his thoughts to see that they’ve transitioned from the smooth asphalt of the motorway to an unpaved gravel road. It’s bracketed on either side by trees, and though the sun has long since set, Martin can still see the gentle swell of hills around them, outlined softly in the moonlight. He thinks, for a moment, that he sees fog, clustering around the bases of the hills and swirling around in tight eddies, but when he blinks, the image is gone.

“We’re almost there,” Jon says quietly. It’s one of the few things he’s said to Martin the entire trip. Then, after a moment: “It’s … rather nice out here.”

Martin supposes it is. The landscape around them had been a vibrant green before twilight had washed it out into deep blues, and there have been cows dotted around the fields, shaggy and brown and grazing contently. It’s a stark change from the grays and browns of central London, with buildings on all sides and people everywhere and no chance to ever really see the stars. If circumstances were different, Martin thinks he would be cooing over the cows and trying to get Jon to stop so he could take pictures and enjoying his first trip outside of England.

Instead, Martin just nods.

Jon seems to understand. He sneaks another glance at Martin—full of something soft that Martin, in his foggy state, doesn’t quite know how to parse—but remains silent for the rest of the trip. It could easily be a stiff, uncomfortable silence, but … it’s not. It feels companionable.

When did being around Jon become so easy?

Daisy’s cabin is small and squat, nestled between two hills and idyllic in a way that doesn’t match the rough-hewn, steel-eyed woman Martin had known. The inside is dusty and cold, and Jon mutters something about central heating before disappearing down the corridor and leaving Martin standing in the living room, staring at the place he’ll be living in for the foreseeable future.

The place he’ll be living in with Jon for the foreseeable future.

Martin feels something in his chest stir at that—a strange, twisting emotion that’s there and gone before he can put a name to it. He shivers, in a way he doesn’t think is from the cold, and goes to find Jon.

He … doesn’t think he should be alone right now.

They find an old, rusted radiator that miraculously still works, pumping out hot air with a groan of metal. Jon digs a set of musty sheets out of the linen closet and begins dressing the bed. Martin notes the lack of a second bedroom, and he thinks he might object to the implication that they’ll be sharing a bed if he weren’t aware of the fact that he might vanish if left alone for too long. (Or if he were himself enough to feel embarrassed. Or to feel anything.)

He doesn’t think anything shows on his face, but Jon’s always been keen, even more so now that knowledge drips into his mind like water from a leaky faucet. Jon’s hands flutter over the sheets for a moment before he says, “I … hope this is all right?”

Martin tries to find his voice to agree, but the energy required to summon it is too much, so he settles for a shallow nod. He doesn’t think it’s a sufficiently enthusiastic agreement, but Jon doesn’t question it. He worries his bottom lip between his teeth for a moment, then says, “And … you’re all right?”

It’s a bit of a ridiculous question, really. No, Martin isn’t all right. No, there’s nothing Jon can do about it. No, he doesn’t know when things will be better. Or if they’ll ever be better.

Martin just looks at Jon, eyebrows slightly raised. Jon lets out a small, dry laugh. “Right. I … suppose that was a silly question. I—I meant…” Jon hems and haws for a long moment before finally saying, “Do you feel … safe, here? W-with me?”

That question has a much easier answer.

When Martin nods without hesitation, Jon visibly relaxes. “Good,” he says, voice rough around the edges. “That’s … that’s good.”

They stand there for a moment longer, the silence between them thick and heavy but not uncomfortably so. Finally, Jon clears his throat and says, “Well, I—I suppose we should rest then. We can … talk tomorrow?”

Martin nods and tries to smile. He doesn’t quite manage it, but … that’s all right. For now, this is enough.

Jon retreats into the bathroom, and Martin finds himself overcome with exhaustion. He slips into the soft pajama trousers he’d absently stuffed into his duffle bag, climbs under the covers, and is asleep before the sound of running water from the other room abates.

.

.

.

Martin doesn’t remember what happened in the Lonely. Things had been foggy and disjointed, slipping through his grasp when he tried to hold onto them. He barely remembers what came after, when Jon had led him away from the sand and the fog and the waves, his palm a searing heat against Martin’s. His first few days at the safehouse are spent in a similar fog, like each muscle in his body is frozen solid and he’s slowly attempting to warm them with a matchstick flame.

His third day is … better. His fourth, better still. By the end of the first week, Martin feels more himself than he has in months, if still acutely aware of the fog that now lives in his lungs and creeps out of his throat when he thinks too hard about what’s transpired or when Jon is out of sight for too long.

Martin remembers what it’s like to be happy. He feels it when he shuffles sleepily into the kitchen on their eigth morning in the safehouse and sees Jon standing in front of the stove, hair tied up in a neat bun and eggs sizzling in a pan in front of him. He remembers what it’s like to be frightened. He feels it when he wakes at night, shivering and shaking with the lingering memory of dreams of nothing but endless fog and aching loneliness.

And he remembers what it’s like to be in love.

He remembers it just in time to lose it.

The worst thing, Martin thinks, is that he’d almost managed to convince himself that it would be different this time. He knows, logically, that it’s not that simple. He’d done a little bit of research after what happened with Nino, reading through a few web pages on aromanticism before becoming overwhelmed and closing out of every single one of them. He tentatively returned to them a few years later after realizing that this wasn’t something that he was going to grow out of or move on from.

He had difficulties settling on a label, partly because of the sheer number of them and partly because he … didn’t quite know how to categorize his feelings. How could he categorize something that he’d only felt once before? Gray-romantic seemed the safest option, so that was the one he settled on.

(Not that he ever told anyone that he was arospec. It never seemed important, even when Sasha would needle him about his crush and Tim would make too-loud suggestive comments that could surely be heard through the door to Jon’s office.

… Martin misses Tim and Sasha. He thinks, if he’d had the chance—if he’d had more time—they would have been the first people he told.)

Martin knows that his relationship with romantic attraction is complicated. Yet somehow, he’s still found it within himself to hope that this time, things will be different. This time, when he tells Jon that he’s very in love with him and has been for a while, those words will continue to be true even after they’re spoken. (He ignores the fact that the actual thought of saying them aloud makes his stomach twist and his mouth grow chalky.)

But, just like with Nino, Martin doesn’t get the chance to try. Jon beats him to the punch.

“I … I love you,” Jon says quietly. He has Martin’s hand in his, and he’s holding it so gently Martin might cry. There were things Jon said before this moment—a conversation that has led them here—but Martin is having a hard time recalling any of them. All he can think is no, no, not now, not here.

His skin crawls. His hands are clammy, and he’s sure that Jon can feel it. He has the instinctive need to get away, but he’s also frozen in place, the lump in his throat sealing away all of the words that he should be saying.

He should be saying something.

The silence stretches on between them, the vulnerability on Jon’s face slowly morphing into concern. “... Martin?”

He sounds so confused, and Martin … he can’t. He just can’t. He doesn’t think he’ll survive the moment when that confusion turns to hurt.

So Martin swallows sharply and forces his hand to squeeze Jon’s and says, “I love you too.”

And he does, in a way. He wants Jon here, by his side, eating breakfast next to him and rambling to him about whatever latest thing has piqued his interest and listening to Martin describe the cows he’s seen on his walks. The thought of Jon leaving—of losing him, the same way he lost Nino—makes his stomach twist into knots, because Martin loves him.

Just … not in the way that Jon thinks he does. Not anymore.

And Martin can’t help but feel guilty about that fact.

Jon frowns at Martin for a moment more, like he can tell that something’s wrong but he’s not entirely sure what. Martin breathes out slowly and gives Jon as genuine a smile as he can muster, trying to convey that everything is fine. That nothing’s wrong—why would anything be wrong?

It must work, because Jon exhales slowly, his expression softening into one of the gentle smiles that Martin has grown so fond of. He rubs a thumb over the back of Martin’s hand in a motion that should be comforting but only reminds Martin of the fact that Jon is doing it because he loves him.

Martin thinks that Jon is going to kiss him then—isn’t that usually what comes after things like this?—and dread coils in his stomach. But Jon doesn’t. Later, Martin will find out that Jon dislikes kisses just as much as he does (though for different reasons). For now, though, Martin can only feel relief when Jon squeezes his hand once more before letting go and standing. “I’ll go make us some tea,” he says quietly, then retreats to the kitchen.

Thinking back on it, Martin wonders if Jon knew then. That something was wrong. But for now, he just feels relieved that he has the space he needs to breathe.

.

.

.

It’s their second week at the safehouse, just a few days after Jon told Martin that he loves him, that Jon finally sits Martin down after dinner and says softly, “Martin, am I … am I making you uncomfortable?”

“What?” Martin says, like he has no idea what Jon’s talking about. (Like a liar.) “No. What … what makes you think that?”

Jon wrings his hands together. He’s wearing one of Martin’s sweaters, and Martin doesn’t know how he feels about it. The clothes sharing is fine. The fact that Jon is clearly perceiving the clothes sharing as a romantic gesture is … less than fine.

Martin told himself that it would be okay if Jon perceived their relationship as a romantic one and Martin didn’t. He was good at pretending. And besides, how different could things be?

Very different, as it turned out. In all the ways that mattered.

Jon seemed to take any opportunity he could to touch Martin—a hand brushing against the small of his back when he passed behind him to grab a mug, an ankle nudging against his underneath the table as they ate, a head resting on his shoulder as they sat side-by-side and read. Martin had never been particularly touch-averse or touch-starved; touch was just … touch. He’d liked it when Tim had tousled his hair or when Sasha had thrown her legs across his on the breakroom couch, but he didn’t feel like he was missing out on anything on the days he went without any human contact at all.

Now, it’s all Martin can do not to flinch away from Jon’s touches, knowing that each one is delivered with love and affection that Martin can’t return. Though perhaps he hasn’t been doing as good of a job as he’d thought, judging by the concerned look Jon is giving him now.

There have been other things too—whispered I love yous in the early mornings and soft smiles that seem somehow more and little gestures that are so Jon but also so romantic—and Martin wants so badly to disappear back into the fog in those moments. But that … that wouldn’t be fair to Jon. It’s not his fault that Martin is like this, after all.

(It’s not Martin’s fault either. He knows this, logically. He’d spent a long time hating himself for what happened with Nino, for how he couldn’t just be normal and go on dates and enjoy something that the rest of society seemed to prize above all else. It had taken him years to finally come to terms with the fact that he wasn’t broken, and he couldn’t be changed. That this was just … who he was.

It doesn’t mean that sometimes, he doesn’t wish that he could be someone else. And he’s never wanted it more acutely than when he stares at Jon’s kind brown eyes and soft smile.)

So Martin lied and lied and lied. And he thought he’d been doing so successfully. But here Jon is, frowning at him, a careful distance between them, and Martin feels his chest begin to tighten.

“I just…” Jon begins, then stops. He looks down at the couch, studying the ugly floral pattern with apparent rapt fascination. Martin doesn’t know what to say, so he waits anxiously until Jon finally continues, “It doesn’t feel like you’re … happy. I know that things have been hard, a-and … it’s all right if you still need time after the Lonely, but it…” Jon swallows. “It feels like some of it may be because of me? W-when I touch you, sometimes you get … tense. And sometimes…”

“Jon?” Martin prompts after a moment, the word strangled by the growing lump in his throat.

“Sometimes,” Jon says quietly, “when you tell me that you love me, it … it feels like you’re lying.”

And the way Jon says it—tentative, with wide, hesitant eyes, like he’s the one that’s the problem—makes Martin’s desire to keep up the ruse crumble away in an instant.

It still isn’t easy to come clean. But he forces himself to do it anyway.

“It’s complicated,” he begins, then winces. Not a good start. Sure enough, Jon’s shoulders grow tense, and he shifts slightly further away, like he thinks Martin wants more space. Because he thinks he’s done something wrong. “You haven’t done anything wrong,” Martin adds quickly. It’s not you, it’s me, he thinks wryly. “It’s … not your fault.”

Jon opens his mouth—to say what, Martin doesn’t know. He barrels on before Jon gets the chance to speak, his haste making his words harried and blunt.

“I’m aromantic.”

Jon blinks at him, clearly surprised by the abruptness of the statement. After a long, awkward moment, during which it becomes abundantly clear that Jon is waiting for Martin to make the next move, Martin continues, “My relationship with—well, with relationships—i-is complicated. I-it’s, um … it’s hard to explain? A-and I don’t want you to think that I—I don’t care about you. I want to be here, w-with you, just…”

“Not in a romantic capacity?” Jon finishes softly.

Martin exhales heavily, feeling a bit like a hole has been punched in his chest and he’s slowly deflating. “Yeah.”

Jon is looking at him with soft, kind eyes, and Martin doesn’t know what to do with them. So he buries his face in his hands. “I’m sorry,” he says, his voice coming out muffled.

“Hey, hey.” Jon’s hand brushes against Martin’s shoulder before pulling away quickly, and that just makes Martin feel worse. “You haven’t done anything wrong either.”

“Yes, I have,” Martin says into his palms. “I lied. I let you think that I—I was still in love with you, and … Christ, that was shitty of me.”

“I … do wish you had told me sooner,” Jon concedes. “But … only because I care about you, Martin, a-and I don’t want you to be uncomfortable around me.” He hesitates. “You … do know that I’m not mad at you, right? Th-that I wouldn’t have been mad, o-or upset, or hurt, if you told me that you didn’t feel the same way about me?”

Martin takes a deep breath, then another. “But I did,” he says raggedly. “For … for so long, I did. Ever since Jane Prentiss locked me in my flat for two weeks and you believed me when I told you about it a-and let me stay in the Archives. A-and I didn’t lie, in the Lonely. I did love you, a-all the way up until…”

Martin trails off. Jon lets the silence linger for a moment before saying gently, “If you don’t want to explain it to me, o-or if it’s hard, you don’t have to. But … if you can, I’d like to understand. For myself, a-and for you.” He wraps his hands tightly around his knees where they’re tucked against his chest. “This is important, and … I want to get this right.”

Martin exhales. He picks at a loose thread on the couch between them, focusing on it so he doesn’t have to meet Jon’s eyes and can pretend like he isn’t so extremely exposed and vulnerable right now. “I … I do want to explain. O-or I want to try. It’s … hard, though. Mostly b-because I’ve never had to explain it to anybody else? But also because … I don’t really understand why I’m like this.”

Jon opens his mouth, and Martin holds up a hand. “I know, I know—you don’t … have to comment on that.”

Jon closes his mouth and tentatively shifts so his knee is pressing against Martin’s. Martin waits for the tingling of his skin, the pins-and-needles discomfort, but it never comes. Maybe it’s because he knows that this is an act of comfort rather than one of affection. It’s … really nice.

He presses back with a sigh, feeling a bit of the tension and nerves drain out of him. “I—I get that love is difficult for me,” he says quietly. “I’ve just … always had trouble with the fact that what makes it difficult is that I’m someone who apparently never actually wants their love … requited. And if it is, I just … can’t anymore. It all goes away, a-and I just … fall out of love?”

Martin can feel Jon’s eyes on him, inquisitive and searching, but Jon doesn’t say anything. There’s a moment of silence between them, during which Martin tries and fails to collect his mess of feelings and thoughts and emotions into something that he can verbalize. Finally, Martin sighs and says, “It’s ironic, isn’t it. I’ve loved you for so long, a-and I still do, but … not in the way you love me. Not anymore. And now you’re the one who—who loves someone w-who doesn’t … who can’t…”

“Oh, no, Martin.” Jon’s hand is covering his then, and it’s warm and gentle and lovely, and Martin could cry. “I’m not…” He hesitates, squeezing Martin’s hand once. “Well. I am still in love with you. In the … romantic sense. I—I don’t want to lie to you about that. B-but I also love you in … so many other ways. Y-you’re my friend, Martin, a-and you’re someone that I can trust. You … you make me feel safe, e-even when there’s … so much in my life that’s dangerous and unpredictable, and I know that you’ll … always be there for me when I need you to be. I want to be here with you, always. I would … be happy in a romantic relationship with you, yes. But I would also be happy to just be with you. In whichever way you will have me.”

Martin’s throat feels very tight. “Oh,” he says faintly. He feels a pressure at the corner of his eyes and realizes, with a flush of embarrassment, that there are actual tears collecting there. He stares hard at the lamp just behind Jon, trying not to let any of them escape.”You, um … you really … mean that?”

“Of course,” Jon says, like there’s no question to be had about the matter. “You are … such an easy person to love, Martin. In all the ways it’s possible to love someone.”

Martin tries—he really does—to keep the tears back. But it’s just … so much, and Jon is so lovely, and this is more than Martin ever thought he was going to be able to have. So he takes a shaky breath in, and on the exhale, a few tears slip free and trail down his cheek. He brings a hand up and scrubs them away, mutters a sorry underneath his breath, but Jon just squeezes his hand tighter.

“It’s okay,” he says. “It’s okay, I’m … I’m here. I’m not leaving you.” Jon hesitates. “Provided that that’s … all right with you, of course.”

Martin can’t help the shaky laugh that escapes him. “Yes, it’s all right with me. Of course it is.”

Jon smiles, and Martin aches with it. “Good.” He nudges his knee gently against Martin’s. “Because this cottage would get very dull without you in it. Who would I talk to about all of Daisy’s awful romance novels?”

Martin laughs again, and it chases away most of the lingering tension in his body. “Be careful what you wish for. I’m going to start doing dramatic readings next.”

Jon’s eyes sparkle with humor, but his voice is sincere when he says, “I look forward to it.”

True to his word, over the next week, Martin does increasingly dramatic readings of the worn, water-warped romance novels stacked haphazardly on the safehouse shelves. (Skipping the, quote, ‘unnecessarily erotic’ bits to avoid Jon’s pinched look of discomfort and his own beet-red face as he stares down at words that should really not be used in a sexual context ever.) He bakes cookies, laughing when Jon drops the cup of flour he’s holding and ends up covered in it. He spends the first three walks after their conversation wringing his hands together before finally asking, in a series of nervous stutters, if Jon would like to hold hands while they walk.

“But not in a romantic way!” he hastens to clarify. “You just have very nice hands, a-and I’ve always liked the idea of holding someone else’s hand, but—you know, th-the romantic connotations of it aren’t … great, and … you know, now that I think about it, this was a stupid question, you don’t have to—”

And then Jon takes his hand and squeezes it gently, and Martin feels a warmth spread through him that he doesn’t quite know what to do with.

That’s been happening a lot lately. He … doesn’t think he minds at all.

Then, a few weeks after their conversation, Jon turns over in bed to face him and says, without any preamble, “Have you ever heard of a queerplatonic relationship?”

Martin has, but only in passing, so he shakes his head. Jon explains, sounding very much like he’s reciting the wiki page for the concept, which is … more endearing than it has any right to be, probably.

“Does … does that sound like something you might be interested in?” Jon says nervously. “W-with me, of course. If that wasn’t … clear.”

Martin nods before Jon is finished speaking. “Yeah,” he says, maybe a bit too eagerly. Then, quieter: “Yeah. I’d … I’d like that.”

Jon smiles then, bright and wide and lovely, and it occurs to Martin—not for the first time, and probably not for the last—that he can have this. That he can be with Jon—maybe for the rest of his life, though that’s a … big thought that he definitely isn’t ready to look at head-on yet—without the dates and the kissing and all the other romantic gestures that Martin always thought were necessary for something like this. That they can be happy, together.

That Martin can have his fairy tale ending, and it doesn’t have to look like he’s always been told it should.

Martin smiles back at Jon, reaching across the bed to brush his fingers lightly against Jon’s. And for the first time in a long, long while, he finally feels like he’s home.

#tma #the magnus archives #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #jonmartin #(in a queerplatonic capacity) #my writing #my fic