#Aro writing

[aroworlds]

After six (very slow!) years of writing, Hallo, Aro comprises eighteen short fiction and creative-non-fiction pieces about allosexual aro protagonists--all collected on my website, Patreon or Tumblr.

Stories include:

Unspoken

Leaving

Friendship

Lucky

Attraction

Existence

Neuronormative

Loveless

Monstrous

Pressure, Side One

Pressure, Side Two

Abrasive

Question

Antagonist

Witch

Hunter

Pillar

Tomorrow

Please expect fantasy and fairy tale motifs, trans and multisexual characters, a dash of autism, a great deal of amatonormativity, and a pervasive struggle for recognition by family, society and community.

[cherrytea556]

Arospec writing prompt: Arospec characters and their "crushes"

This can vary in attraction (romantic, sexual, sensual, aesthetic etc) and it can also vary in reaction! Remember to vary the horizon!

Here's some ideas

Arospec characters indulging in their fantasies around their crush without wanting them in real life

Arospec characters that are ashamed of their "crushes" for various reasons

Arospec characters acting like knights in shining armor to their "crush" as a way to show their feelings for them or wanting a chance with them

Arospec characters who are conflicted with their "crush"

Arospec characters who only like to look at their "crush" like an art peice

Arospec characters being confused of why they have a "crush" (also varying of reason)

Arospec character's "crush" being their partner

Arospec character's "crush" being their friend (bonus points if their both arospec and either are aromantically married or platonically flirt or platonically don't give a fuck)

Arospec characters questioning if their "crush" is out of gender envy or beauty appreciation

Arospec characters questioning if their "crush" is out of truama or lonely reasons

Arospec characters that deny their "crush" and either try to get over it or judge everyone elses crushes as if they dont have their own

Feel free to add more in reblogs

[aro-sora]

Aro Writing Collection

Happy Aromantic Spectrum Visibility Day, I wanted to share some resources to find aromantic books/poetry/writing of any kind

A Carnival of Aros

Aro Worlds fiction

AZE Journal

The Aro Zine

Arospec Poetry Network (and their zine collection)

Aro & Ace books database

Queer Books database

Queer Fiction Book database

Aromantic stories recommended by Claudie Arseneault

AUREA's resources page

Aromantic books and no romance books on @aroaessidhe

Aromantic books on @aro-who-reads

Aro friendly media, Aggressively Arospectacular, and Aggressively Arospec Week on @aggressivelyarospec

@arospecfanworksweek for aro fanworks

Also I'm adding Commons Bonds as a book rec. It's a spec fic anthology of aromantic/platonic-focused works (you can find it in the aro books lists/databases linked above too)

If anyone has other things to add let me know!

(and thanks to @haveievermentioned for some of the recs)

[infiniteorangethethird]

writing aro stories rocks actually it's like every time an amatonormative stereotype pisses me off I can just add another aromantic character to restore the balance of the universe

[feelingthedisaster]

what alloroms poets whine about romantic love, i whine in amanormativity

[aro-prompts]

Write about an aro character who’s birthday is Valentine’s Day

[arotechno]

O. basilicum, part xii

And so, spring came at last to Verdigris. The frost melted, the trees bloomed, and the town traded its pallor for the lush green of new growth. The dreary cold went away, and with it went Ace, off to dig himself another grave—because what was the harm, really, in taking another shot at cheating death?

“You don’t have to do this, you know.”

“I do.”

Basil kicked at the dirt with his good leg, hands shoved deep in the pockets of his trousers. Ace poked reverently at a newly sprouted bean plant.

“It’s just… What if you’re not ready?”

With a sigh, Ace straightened up from the garden bed.

“I’m ready, Basil. All healed up. I’ve got folks waiting up for me, and I don’t want to keep them worrying any longer than I already have.”

Please don’t go, Basil thought, I can’t lose you again. They’d kill you if they knew.

But Basil didn’t say any of that. What he said instead was:

“I know, just… Be careful, alright?”

In response, Ace smiled, like he knew what Basil meant anyway. He often did.

“I’ll do my best.”

They lapsed into silence again in the garden. The morning sun finally breached the treeline, dappling the hillside in shades of white and gold. Basil breathed deep and wrapped himself in the quiet moment, committing it to memory in case there was never another one like it.

Just in case.

* * *

What Basil was not expecting in the slightest was to open the front door a mere week or so later to find Ace shuddering on Frida’s doorstep, haggard and dirty, an old bow on his back, with a young girl of about twelve or thirteen at his side.

“Hey,” Ace said.

“Hey yourself.” Basil looked between them. “You know, when I said you’d be back, I didn’t mean right away.”

His attempt at levity went unappreciated. Ace looked at him, pained. Something had gone deeply, horribly wrong.

“Come in, both of you,” Basil insisted, opening the door wide. “Frida!”

Frida came hurrying into the hall from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a towel. “Basil, dear, who’s at the—oh, gods above.”

“Hi, Frida,” Ace said. “This is Petra. She’s my friend—”

“Honorary sister,” the girl, Petra, interjected. Ace rolled his eyes, as if it were a private joke.

“Fine, sure, whatever.” Ace shuffled uncomfortably where he stood, while Frida just gaped at him. “She… we don’t have anywhere to go, anymore. Do you think you could—“

“Basil, keep an eye on that soup for me, will you? Come on, dear,” Frida said, guiding Petra by the shoulder toward the clinic. “Let’s get you cleaned up. Ace has told me so much about you.”

Petra went without argument, though she did look over her shoulder at Basil and Ace, eyeing the pair of them with a strange expression. Ace followed Basil silently into the kitchen and dropped into one of the chairs at the table. The air was fragrant with herbs and spices cooking in the large pot on the stove. Basil stirred it carefully with a wooden spoon, just for something to do.

He didn’t ask for an explanation. He wasn’t sure he needed one. It was clear the worst had happened, after all—the other shoe had finally dropped, and Ace was once again lucky to have escaped with his life.

“I should have gone back sooner,” Ace said hoarsely. “I could have—“

“There’s nothing you could have done.”

“They killed him. Bertrand’s dead, Basil. There wasn’t even a body left behind, just nothing but ash. If I’d been there, I could have surrendered—“

“They wouldn’t have spared him, Ace. You know they wouldn’t.”

Basil doled out a bowl of soup and placed it in front of Ace, who didn’t so much as reach for his spoon despite how hungry the journey must have made him. He sat motionless while Basil scooped out another helping and sat across from him, eyes searching. He, too, didn’t eat a single bite.

“Petra used to remind me of you,” Ace finally said, eyes crinkling with the admittance. “Optimistic. Headstrong. Not afraid of anything.”

“And now?”

“Now? Now all I see is my own grief. It was supposed to be different for her, Basil.” Ace frowned into his untouched soup, voice going soft. “I did this to her.”

In the silence that followed, Basil thought back to that first day, screaming himself hoarse in half-dead terror. He remembered the guilt, the sorrow, the many days spent unable to walk. Basil thought even further back, years before, to those peaceful days they’d spent together as children. That version of Basil had been long gone for quite some time now, and he wasn’t ever coming back. Optimism was a hard-earned burden he stubbornly carried, not a prize to be bartered for.

Before Basil could say anything of the sort, however, Petra came slinking back into the room with Frida on her heels, looking quite a bit less worse for wear than when they’d arrived. Her face was clean and her short-cropped hair smoothed out, with bandages plastered over the cuts that rogue branches and brambles had left on her skin. She peered at Ace knowingly, solemnly, as she sunk into the chair beside him, eyes roving over his sullen expression. Basil felt a kinship at that.

For his part, Ace was still hunched over his bowl, face and hands smeared with dirt and grime. He still needed to get cleaned up, once they got this situation sorted out. Basil would probably have to force him.

“You boys need to eat,” Frida chided softly, pouring soup for herself and Petra, who muttered a quiet thanks.

“I need to ask,” Basil said quietly. “Did anyone else make it?”

“I got mostly everyone out before the royal guard came,” Petra said. “But some folks didn’t want to leave. Bertrand…”

“Stubborn old man,” Ace muttered with subdued fondness.

“They got out,” Frida repeated. “I don’t know what you mean, dear. Where are they now?”

Petra looked up from her soup, eyes hard and pained, and said, “I don’t know.”

In that moment, Basil’s blood ran hot, and he thought he finally understood, after all these years, what it was that had kept Hank going, day after day. How long did this have to go on? How could anyone let this go on? But what could Basil do?

Ace had stumbled into something far greater than either of them, something on the level of kings. And what had that gotten him? Another abandoned home, more missing friends, another dead guardian? There were no heroes and villains, no monsters come alive from fairy tales. There were only two kinds of people: those with power, and those without. It was a simple answer, but then again, those were always the hardest to accept.

That night, long after the soup had gone cold and Petra had been set up with a cot in Frida’s bedroom, Basil kept Ace company on the front step, both of them too tired to sleep. The sky was clear, and full of stars, but no matter how much Basil tried, he couldn’t discern any meaningful pattern among them. After all these years, that was it—he was all out of answers.

“So,” he said. “What are you going to do now?”

Ace picked at a loose thread on his pant leg and shrugged.

“I can’t leave Petra behind like that again. She was all alone, waiting for me for months. She deserves a better life than that.”

“Then stay,” Basil said. “Stay for now, stay forever, I don’t mind. You know I’ll always be here.”

Ace chuckled. “I don’t know if she’ll be able to stay put like that for long.”

“Are you sure we’re talking about Petra?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Ace said with a glare, though there wasn’t any heat behind it.

Basil leaned back on his palms, searching the sky.

“You should rest,” he said. “Live the best life you can, for yourselves. It’s simple, but it’s enough.”

Ace nodded, though his expression told Basil he wasn’t convinced.

“I’m going to sleep.” He pushed to his feet and made his way back inside. “Goodnight, Basil.”

“Goodnight.”

The screen door slammed shut, leaving Basil alone in the quiet night. He pulled his knife from his belt loop and turned it over in his palm. Moonlight glinted off the blade.

Basil kept his silent vigil well into the night, until the entire hillside fell quiet and even the crickets went to sleep. He kept one hand on the hilt of his blade all the while.

Just in case.

[mockerycrow]

i saw ur post on being aro/ on the aro spectrum and it got me questioning…maybe i am too. i don’t really see that term float around a lot so i went on a research journey through the tag and youtube and maybe that’s what i’m feeling. i always just kinda thought i was selfish or too independent and that my line between friends & romantic partner kinda blur, but now that i think about it, i just really want a best best friend that i could fuck.

i think i’m more on the looser end of the spectrum because i do feel romantic attraction and i do feel love and i crave that. but i also am not the lovey dovey type either idk i’m just talking to myself here.

feel free to give advice or delete no worries

hi, no worries!! i’ve known quite a few arospec people in my life and i’ve heard your story a few times :-) when it comes to romance, sexual stuff, friendship, etc—you’re not selfish at all. everyone has their own wants and needs, and yours being different is not selfish at all. something you may be interested is a queerplatonic relationship perhaps?? everyone has different definitions for it, the usual definition is basically a type of relationship between two people that is not romantic in nature, but exceeds friendship—it’s very common for queer folks, especially aroacespec queer folks to have one. it can be similar to a romantic relationship, but it’s not exactly one, but it’s not exactly friendship, either. i recommend looking it up!! maybe it’s something you could be interested in as you said romantic and platonic feelings blur together? i hope this helps!!

my aromanticism is.. hard to explain?? i can feel romantic attraction, but it’s quite hard for me to actually fall in love. but when i do, i fall hard—i also have to be attracted to you as a person before your looks. that probably sounds odd, but it’s just how my brain works. that doesn’t mean i don’t find someone attractive, im just not attracted to them immediately. i also can fall out of love quite easily if i wish to. there’s more to it, but it’s so personal that there’s not enough words for it if that makes sense!!

[casualbuttercupblog]

about your post "shiping an aro/ace man with no regard(...)" post

I wanna start writing for Alastor but I don't really know what an aro/ace relationship looks like. Frankly (and this may sound stupid), I started re-watching all Ghibli movies bc if someone knows how to write meaningful platonic stuff is Mayazaki! Aside from that, to a certain extent, I think a relationship with him could be summarized as "more than friends, less than lovers" BUT idk if that's accurate, I still feel a bit insecure because I'm not aro/ace myself and wouldn't want to upset anyone. Would you happen to have any advice? :)

Ah, okay, I can only speak from my experience, and I'm not the only aromantic person in the world. And I am not ace, I'm pan. But I can try.

Aromantic is defined as "feeling little to no romantic attraction." I'm married. My husband is more of my best friend than anything, I feel very little romantic attraction, but he's one person that I have that tiny little kernel of romantic attraction in my heart for.

So yea! Your concept actually works really well. I would focus more on the platonic aspects of their relationship and why they enjoy being around eachother. What makes them want to do this?

For example, my husband is a hopeless romantic, and I want him to be happy. So, with a lot of the romantic things he wants, I do them because it makes him happy. From what I know about the ace community, some of them feel the same way about sex. I'd ask an ace blog if you can.

I hope this helped, but basically, focus on the friendship between the pairing. And why Alastor does things, is it because he has something to gain? Or does he just care about this person and want to see them happy. And remember, I'm not the only aro person in the world. My experience isn't the end all be all. We're all pretty friendly, tho!

[transcendragon]

Prompt Flash Fiction - Love Potion

Prompt: “You have to understand, the use of love potions is both morally gross and legally r-”, you interrupt the alchemist, and say the potion is meant for yourself. There’s a long, awkward silence. Some of the many vials in the alchemist’s back room shelves tinkle. There’s so many that they surround the entire room in a rainbow of potions that sparkle gently in the light. It was a sight that…

[unknown-lifeform]

Chapters: 1/? Fandom: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Crisis Core: Final Fantasy VII Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Zack Fair/Genesis Rhapsodos, Zack Fair & Genesis Rhapsodos, Zack Fair & Cloud Strife, Zack Fair & Aerith Gainsborough Characters: Zack Fair, Genesis Rhapsodos, Cloud Strife, Yuffie Kisaragi, Aerith Gainsborough Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Zack Fair Lives, Retelling, Road Trips, Minor Zack Fair/Aerith Gainsborough, Queerplatonic Relationships, Aromantic Genesis Rhapsodos, Trans Male Genesis Rhapsodos, Eventual Smut, ....extremely eventual, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, queerplatonic lovers technically, plot heavy, Slow Burn Summary:

In which a newly not-degrading Genesis decides to start travelling with Zack instead of remaining there in Banora. Things change, Zack has to face some uncomfortable realities, and the worst assorted group people has to spend a horrible amount of time trapped in a car together as they try to save the world

[infiniteorangethethird]

story idea: soulmate au except instead of being about "love uwu" it's about mc realizing they aren't feeling anything towards their assigned soulmate and taking said soulmate on a journey to confront the Soulmate Gods bc clearly there must've been some mistake made on their part, only to realize along the way that a) they're actually aro and b) the whole soulmate system is just a ploy by the gods to keep humanity oppressed under their control so now their goal changes from finding a better soulmate to dismantling amatonormativity the soulmate system as a whole

[rocksandaces]

For aro/ace writers:

- you don't have to write sex scenes. Tolkien didn't

- you don't have to write romance. Lewis didn't

- you can write very close friendships that have nothing romantic nor sexual in them. Scott Lynch did

- you can write sexual relationships that don't involve romance. Sapkowski did

- you can write romantic relationships that don't involve sex. Pratchett and Gaiman did

Don't let anyone tell you that some kinds of relationships are impossible or that a story must contain some themes. It's your story, write it the way you want

[aro-prompts]

Write about an aro character crashing a wedding

[arotechno]

O. basilicum, part i

These woods were like a second home to Hank. Or a third, if you counted the first home he’d left more than twenty years ago. But that was a different time, in another life, many kingdoms away.

In some parts of the continent, the trees grew hundreds of feet tall, with lofty green branches that stretched all the way to the heavens. If you climbed to the very top of one, you could see the way the land curved—that was how scholars proved the world was a sphere, or so Hank’s teachers used to say. In others, the woods gave way to towering mountains that dwarfed the tallest trees, or sprawling plains that embraced the horizon in every direction. And beyond that, still, lay the sea, and beyond that, Hank supposed he didn’t know.

Here, the forest floor was thick with underbrush, with stout oak trees and maples that produced the sweetest sap Hank had ever tasted. Here, berries grew in the summer and root vegetables in the fall. Here, people didn’t care so much what shape the world was in, or where the ocean was, let alone what lay beyond it. Here, people were much more concerned with how people treated one another, or where their next meal was coming from, or whether their roof would hold under snowfall in the coming winter.

These days, well, Hank thought that was just fine by him.

Hank knew the woods surrounding his village inside and out. He knew every beaten path, for he himself had been the one tamping down the earth under his boots for all these years. He knew every tree, every flowering bush, every tiny stream that overflowed with heavy rains. Every good hunter had to, Hank figured. You had to know where the best places to hunt were, where the deer and rabbits would roam in search of food. He knew every species of snake, and the call of every bird. To a point, Hank figured he must have seen everything.

Today, he experienced something wholly alien to him. Today, Hank found something in these woods he’d never encountered before in all his years. It was a child.

He couldn’t have been more than nine or ten years old, all knobby knees and scrawny in the hips like he hadn’t eaten in days. The brush seemed to grow up around him where he sat against an oak tree, as if he were part of the ground itself. His tan skin was mottled with scrapes and cuts, and his dark hair looked like a robin had made a nest in it. The boy’s glassy eyes stared forward sightlessly, gaunt face smeared with dirt and grime. Whatever had happened to him, his left leg had seen the worst of it—it was swollen at the knee, and covered in an unsightly array of bruises.

Hank was well acquainted with necrosis, and he was pretty sure this kid was dead. He knelt down and reached to check for a pulse, and sure enough, found nothing.

“Damn,” he muttered under his breath. “Poor kid.”

Suddenly, the boy flinched away and yelped like an unfortunate rabbit caught in the maw of a hungry fox.

“Shit!” Hank scrambled back. “He’s still alive!”

“Hank? Was that you?” Ann’s voice called from afar.

“Ann! Get over here, quick!” Hank shouted. The kid hadn’t moved again or made another sound, and his eyes still stared lifelessly. No pulse, but still breathing. Hank’s own breath caught in his throat.

“What’s wrong? What is it?”

“It’s a kid.”

Ann crashed through the treeline into the small clearing where Hank knelt before the boy’s motionless taxidermied form. She skidded to a halt behind him, curly hair escaping its braid.

“What?”

“I said it’s a kid,” Hank repeated, scooting aside. “See for yourself. I damn near shot him.”

Ann crouched beside Hank, eyebrows knitted together. “Shit,” she muttered with bewilderment. “Is he alive?”

“As alive as you or I am. Here, take this.” With ease, Hank took off his bow and passed it to Ann, who took it reluctantly. Her eyes drifted to the child still slumped motionless against the oak, and lit up faintly with recognition.

“I see,” she said softly. “Hank, you really think it’s a good idea to move him in this state?”

“He’ll die if we don’t,” Hank said. He hoisted the boy onto his back, ignoring—with great effort—the way he made a valiant effort to scream in terror with whatever strength was left in his tiny body. With Ann by his side, Hank set off toward home, without any meat for the townsfolk—but bearing a prize greater than anything that lay beyond even the most distant sea.