#queerplatonic rizzles

[julieverne]

Jane woke with nightmares but Maura was there and held her barely waking so used to this she was and she mumbled 'I've got you' and Jane relaxed and a moment later Maura whispered 'you're mine' and Jane melted and rolled over and held Maura and agreed quietly. Like, Jane was her own person but she was also Maura's person too. She used to wonder what it was between them, if it was romantic or sexual or even just a workplace thing, but Maura had never asked as so she never did either just enjoying whatever it was that let her let Maura hold her in the dark night when Hoyt raised his ugly head, that let her run her hands down Maura's back to soothe herself as well as Maura, to soothe them both because they were both parts of something together, both parts that fit together. And it was soft and domestic and loving in a way that none of Jane's relationships had been and would never be, because Maura was someone that got Jane, that had Jane, and Jane got Maura, had Maura, held Maura. They were opposite sides of the same coin or something Frost had said once and Jane whimpered, remembering he was gone, that Jane hadn't been able to help him or even tell him she loved him before he was gone. Maura stirred and held Jane closer, and Jane let all the anger and anguish sink with her into Maura's arms. 'I love you,' Jane told Maura quietly, too quietly to hear, but Maura still sighed contentedly in her sleep and held Jane closer still.

[akenya]

Rizzoli and Isles is actually a show about a Queerplatonic Relationship.

Okay hear me out.

So, I always have shipped Rizzles. There are many MANY ways in which these are queer coded characters with a heavy romantic subtext, that a lot of the time honestly bleeds into the maintext. A lot of the actions and dialogue that we would typically interpret as romantic, especially between a hetero pairing, certainly works for this show. 

But I did a re-watch of the show recently, and while I still ship them romantically, I actually think what is being portrayed between them is something else. They are DEFINITELY more than friends; I mean they are life partners in every sense of the word. But the kind of dynamic that is CANONICALLY portrayed between Maura and Jane, is in fact, a Queerplatonic Relationship.

So here’s a working definition of the term for those who aren’t familiar with it: 

Queerplatonic relationships and queerplatonic partnerships are committed intimate relationships which are not romantic in nature. They may differ from usual close friendships by having more explicit commitment, validation, status, structure, and norms, similar to a conventional romantic relationship

I have actually experienced something like this, (and yes I’m going to get a bit anecdotally personal here; I’ll try not to be too long winded, but it’s relevant, I promise lol): 

I had an (unspoken) kind of relationship like this with my best friend in my early/mid 20s. We have been best friends since I was 11, but something definitely shifted when we became adults, and I have to say, I ended up, quite unexpectedly, being deeply in love with my best friend...platonically. I didn’t want to date her. I didn’t want to sleep with her. But, I was totally devoted to her and we were each other’s person for years. We were each other’s assumed plus one for everything, we regularly did dinner dates, we gave each other super sentimental cards and specialized gifts on birthdays, we also regularly did domestic shit together like grocery shopping, errands, chores, house projects; you name it, we had it/did it. I mean we were even each other’s phone background for a while lmao. We never lived together, but we had keys to each other’s places. 

Now a lot of this shit can happen and does happen in standard friendships (maybe not the phone background thing; that was super gay ngl hahaha), but the thing that made this different was the level of assumed partnership going on between us. And the...energy. We would stare deeply into each other’s eyes. We had that magnetic kind of magic with each other, like no matter where the other is in the room, we find our way back to each other. And people literally perceived us as a couple. Hell, my other friends teased us about it. 

Any of this sound familiar?

Oh and I DO find her to be attractive and even sexy. And we flirted (still do lolol) a LOT. 

But I didn’t ever really.....actually want to have sex with her. Not that I would’ve even necessarily been opposed to it, because we were so close, but it just, wasn’t ever a desire for me.

This was interesting to experience, because I do identify as a lesbian, I have been romantically attracted to people, sexually attracted to people, and the two, as society expects, do usually go hand in hand for me. But with her, I honestly could’ve seen forever; like being exactly as we were, as life partners, I could’ve even seen myself raising kids with her, and I would have been TOTALLY, GENUINELY content with it, ‘cause my relationship with her filled me up in a way nothing else has. This was confusing as all hell to me for a long time, because I didn’t have a name for this until recently when I learned about the concept of Queerplatonic Relationships which again supersede friendship and often are life partnerships, but aren’t inherently romantic or sexual, even though they are quite deep. I actually think QPRs speak to that “limitless” “otherwise undefinable” kind of relationship dynamic. 

Sooo - and I promise I’m wrapping my story up - when my bff met her current boyfriend, which is her first super serious adult relationship, I didn’t quite experience jealousy, I mean I always envisioned a romantic partnership for her, and I still want that for me! Buuuut...my feelings were complicated because it’s like...I had to mourn what I lost, as our dynamic inherently changed, and the fact that I wasn’t her person anymore. Weird thing to process indeed. Also *ahem* SOUND FAMILIAR?

Without getting too carried away here (oh who am I kidding, I already have 😂) for comparison’s sake, I actually went through a crazy ass heartbreak with someone, also while I was in my mid 20s; someone to whom I WAS romantically, sexually, spiritually, connected and attracted. I mean I was IN LOVE with this woman and she broke my heart by not fully reciprocating my feelings and not wanting to be with me. I thought I was gonna die when we stopped talking. Hell, it’s been years and I still think about her. 

But if you were to ask me who the true love. of. my. life. has been so far...I’d pick my best friend! 

The funny thing is I think a LOT of women end up in these kinds of dynamics, ESPECIALLY queer women, maybe even more so queer women who form super close relationships to “straight” women (gotta put str8 in quotes ‘cause...this shit is inherently queer even though it’s not romantic/sexual). You all know what I’m talking about; You’d do anything for each other, there’s chemistry, connection, and care, yet it doesn’t quite fit into any box you try to give it. People read you as a couple. You know this about yourselves, and you just...accept it. Because what you have is actually beyond any label. You know?

Anyway, I think there’s actually something cool and radical about this and I know that queer people want and deserve romantic and sexual representation, but I think this IS an accurate kind of representation that happens all the time that isn’t appropriately covered or discussed in media.

In hindsight, I think that’s what really hooked me on R&I. I mean, I started watching ‘cause I thought they were lesbians, and I kept watching ‘cause I thought it would be canon! And yeah, I still think about what could’ve been with them: fanfiction is good for that. But why do I still watch the actual show? Well...I LIVED it. 

Now: do I think that Maura and Jane often tip the scales a lil’ TOOOOO far in the explicitly gay direction on this show? Oh hell yes! Do I think you can interpret them as two people who are madly in love, romantically, with each other, yet are too scared to do anything about it? Oh hell yes! Like I said I do ship Rizzles. BUT, if I’m honest about what is FULLY, CANONICALLY being portrayed, no subtext, ALL maintext: It’s 10000% a QPR. 

So no: Maura Isles and Jane Rizzoli are certainly not JUST friends. They aren’t just colleagues, although their work relationship is just as powerful and awe inspiring as their personal one. They aren’t really like sisters, although they can quarrel like siblings at times. They aren’t truly romantic, although they are essentially life partners. They aren’t in a sexual relationship with each other; not that it couldn’t go there, but I also see how it wouldn’t need to go there, and how that doesn’t diminish the bond at all. They have something that I recognize -and something I think perhaps many of us recognize too- something beyond definition, because at the core of it they are true-blue soulmates who share a kind of unconditional love that is rarely found in ANY kind of relationship. If there is a definition that comes close to summing this kind of thing up: Queerplatonic Relationship is the answer!

Idk just felt like sharing this. Thanks for reading 🤓

[fireandfolds]

me: ugh i’m so sick of finding only romantic/smutty content, where’s all the platonic and queerplatonic stuff? i’m too aroace for this shit

my brain: why don’t you write it

me:

me: wgat

brain: write what you want to read

me:

me: dammit

[thepriceisrizzoli]

hello yes it’s me trying to write again

I’m working on a new not yet titled fic and am here to gauge interest and hype myself into writing more of it. for your consideration:

jane has Issues post hoyt

maura is pilot maura, new on the job

jane/dean/maura energy from the pilot except delete dean and aim them at each other

they aren’t friends right away

ace jane / queerplatonic rizzles or something to that effect

so it’s not smutty

here’s a first chapter preview. are we into this?

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ 

"Whoa. That the new M.E.?" Frost juts his chin.

The first person Rizzoli's eyes fall on must be the one he means. She attracts the eye, standing out with the electric aura of a celebrity in a crowd of average slobs.

Everything about her drips wealth. Blonde hair highlighted, cut and styled so immaculately as to almost be severe, as if there’s a salon chair in the Mercedes she just emerged from. Blood-red overcoat and black stilettos in a squalid Dorchester alley at 2AM. Her look could be summarized as I could kill you, get away with it, and make the cover of a magazine in the process.

It's not like there's a second person around here who might fit the little nicknames that've been floating around the precinct - Rich Bitch, Her Majesty, Queen of the Dead.

"Must be."

"Wonder where she just came from," he says as a uniform scurries to lift the tape for her.

As they watch her making her way toward the body, Rizzoli tries to figure out what strikes her as odd about this woman. It's that she's alone. She's certainly attracting attention, but usually somebody who looks like that comes with an entourage.

"Poor thing. We must've interrupted a photo shoot," she mutters, turning back to the blood droplets at evidence marker 6.

Her fingers worry absentmindedly at the sleeve of her own plain black overcoat where it's just beginning to fray. It isn't shabby. She's just had it a while.

"Hey, Sinclair," she says to a passing evidence photographer, "Can you make sure this blood gets-"

"Hang on," he says breathlessly, not breaking stride from his jogging beeline to the doctor. Rizzoli watches him arrive at her side and eagerly brandish his camera, awaiting her orders to photograph something she points at.

"Oh, brother," she grumbles.

"Well.. we oughta..." Frost begins to suggest, shrinking a little at the expressionless look his partner turns onto him. "I mean, to get the time of death and all."

They already checked out the body before the M.E. got here. Pretty fresh; two shots; wedding ring; no wallet. Once they ID him they'll look at the wife first, but it's not going to be the wife, at least not directly. Not many women would set foot here at night, even armed. This'll be a guy shooting a guy over money or drugs. The most boring murder.

"Mm-hm." He falls in step with her as soon as she moves.

When the detectives approach, they do so silently and from behind the doctor's back - and yet she somehow senses to rise and turn to them.

"You must be Detectives Rizzoli and Frost." She strips the nitrile glove from her right hand. "I'm Dr. Maura Isles, Chief Medical Examiner of the Commonwealth of Massachusetts."

Rizzoli almost does the yeah, yeah, speed it up gesture with her waiting hand by the time she gets to the word Examiner.

"Evening, Doctor."

"Barry Frost," her partner adds, all teeth, sticking out his own hand. "We've been looking forward to working with you."

She shoots him a sideways glance. Easy, bud.

"Likewise," Dr. Isles answers him calmly, though with her eyes on Rizzoli.

"Time of death?" She asks, slipping her cold hands into her coat pockets.

"Liver temperature indicates death occurred between 10 and 11 PM. The gunshot wounds would appear to be the cause of death, but we'll know more tomorrow." The doctor picks up her bag and turns to one of the techs, discussing removal of the body while the detectives give the area another looking over.

"I'll begin the autopsy tomorrow morning at 9." The detective wasn't planning on looking up, but something in the tone that lingers after the doctor's voice demands it. She appears to have been addressing her specifically, and adds with completely unwarranted silkiness, "Come if you like."

Refusing to appear thrown, Rizzoli holds the eye contact impassively until she is gone - then narrows her eyes at the empty space.

"Just me, or.. ?"

"Nope," Frost answers from behind her, hitching his pants to squat and examine some shell casings.

.

Deadbolt. Chain. Keys, badge, wallet on top of the piano.

Rizzoli reaches her hand down for a lick, before remembering in stark silence that there hasn't been a dog in this apartment for months.

Jo Friday was sort of a "maybe caring for an animal will cure your PTSD" gift from Korsak. It was nice coming home to something living, but her schedule wasn't fair to the little mutt. She gets more attention now at her mother's house.

The bathroom light makes her wince, and she squeezes toothpaste on her brush with a squint. It's the one act of self care she promised herself she wouldn't skip no matter how bad things are.

Washing her face she'll skip, though, because it'd get her sleeves wet, and she's too cold and tired to take her coat off. She wasn't wearing makeup anyway.

She pulls the tie out of her ponytail. Her hair is long and flat and oily, thanks to yesterday's plan to wash it tomorrow. One of these days she needs to go get a real haircut again. She's been trimming it herself, and it looks that way. It's not the cost, or even the small talk. She doesn't like people close to her face with shiny sharp objects.

But who cares if she looked like shit? The other cops had been unshaven, rumpled, half-asleep. Nobody looks amazing at a 2am crime scene.

Well. Almost nobody.

The case seems safe to close on Dr. Isles being into women, and it seems an awful lot like she assumes that's mutual. She certainly wouldn't be the first.

Despite every piece of valid circumstantial evidence that twenty years of rumors have been based on, Rizzoli isn't.

The man she was seeing most recently (no longer recent at all, actually) jealously referred to her job as "her husband" after it caused her to postpone the same date too many times. In the middle of yelling at him, she realized he had a point, and they went their separate ways. Her quest for a relationship had been on the back burner to begin with, but at that point, she switched the flame off entirely.

That's the first reason why you never see her with a man. The second is that three years ago, Charles Hoyt killed her.

No, she didn't die like with a funeral. But something about who she was got irreparably broken. Eventually she realized that if she was ever going to escape the endless loop of emotional crises and mandatory therapy, and get back to work, she would have to let go of who she used to be. She would just have to abandon herself, still pinned to that dank basement floor, and go on like her own ghost.

Fourteen months of panic and anxiety and all it took was one decision to just... be someone else. There was an eerie sense of power in the immediate calm it brought her.

She boxed up all the Jane things her apartment - the pictures on the walls, the family photos, the fly ball she caught on her 22nd birthday, grandma's bundt pan - and moved. The new place has generic decor, solid colors, sparse surfaces. It looks like the set of an apartment. Anyone could live there.

She did the same with her personality. She's not Jane anymore. Just Rizzoli. Blank, generic. Safely empty. Like if anybody tried to touch her, their hand would pass right through.

Rizzoli is nobody, apart from being a homicide detective. Having emptied her life of everything else has made her the absolute best one around. The only downside is the way that tends to result in recognition. She told the Lieutenant that the attention is a punishment, not a reward, and that if they want to decorate her, they can mail her that shit. He didn't like that, but what's he gonna do? Fire her?

Personal relationships of any kind are off the table. Not women, not men, not anyone. Not friends. It's easier and safer not to know anyone.

If that blonde doctor has something in mind, that's just where it'll have to stay: in her mind.

Phone and gun go on the nightstand. Rizzoli rolls on top of her unmade bedsheets, fully dressed. She sleeps in her clothes most nights. It's easier to fall asleep knowing she can get up and fight. Pajamas and bare feet are weak.

She stares up at the slats of light that the gaps in her blinds throw across her ceiling.

Gaps are dangerous. This one, between getting into bed and falling asleep, is the most dangerous part of her day, because unoccupied minds can wander.

Sometimes, late at night, unoccupied, alone and in the privacy of her own home, she's tempted to be Jane again, just for a minute. But then all that same old bullshit would start up again.

She forces tonight’s crime scene into her mind and visualizes it until she falls asleep.

[cookie-sheet-toboggan]

psa in a regular friendship you don't priorities your friends more than you priorities your significant others so when you're watching a female character prioritiesing her close female friend over her romantic/sexual partner(s) they are not simply friends they would fall anywhere from queerplatonic to homoromantic to gay because they are eachothers significant others so straight ppl please stop shouting "why can't women be just friends?!?!" because they can its just that these two are not

[julieverne]

Maura never compromised quality in anything.

Except humans.

They were all imperfect. They all required compromise.

Garret hadn't been able to stand up to his family for her. And there was the whole murder thing too.

Edward hadn't been able to stand up for his family for her.

Ian was a criminal, but he'd have been perfect if he could stay in one place longer than two weeks.

Dennis had made her compromise her morals. And tried to kill her. No one was perfect, but still.

When it came to pearls and silks and jewelry, Maura never compromised. When it came to hiring staff, she never compromised on their qualifications, no matter how socially awkward they were.

When it came to people Maura let in her heart, she compromised.

There were her birth parents, for example. A mobster who looked at her like she was a sunset. A doctor that loved a mass murderer. Biological parents that loved her fiercely and remotely.

And Cailin. Not that she was a criminal or perfect, she was just... a teenager. And that required compromise. But Maura did love her too. She was smart - the Martin genes, Maura assumed - and when she was thoughtful she always managed to dismantle Maura's misconceptions of selfish teenagers.

And then there was her adopted family too. Constance - Maura had longed to feel loved by her, but she'd known she hadn't deserved it. Finding the circumstances of her birth revealed part of the reasons, but Maura had taken what little she could get until Jane called them both on their bullshit.

And Arthur. Maura lied for him. He was a weak, reclusive, cheat. But she loved him too.

And then... her other family. The Rizzolis.

Maura liked privacy and social rules, things that calmed her. The Rizzolis never knocked, never asked if they could come over.

Except Jane. Even though it had been years, Jane usually knocked if she hadn't asked Maura if she could come over, or if she hadn't driven Maura home, the assumption being she would be invited inside. Jane knew her so well she could usually diffuse whatever other social situation was upsetting her - like any of the other people on her list.

Maura still had to compromise with Jane. She had to make guesses at work. She had to do delicate technical work with Jane breathing down her neck. But the intent coming from Jane wasn't entirely selfish when this happened. It was Jane trying to encourage her, trying to be supportive, usually realising when she wasn't and excusing herself.

Maura didn't have to make herself smaller to fit in beside Jane. She didn't have to trim off parts of her personality and discard them to talk to her. She could just exist without compromise. She could sleep soundly with her head on Jane's chest.

Maura looked for certain things in a partner, the first and foremost being sexual attraction. But that had steered her wrong in the past, so perhaps that was all she would have to compromise.

Jane stirred beneath Maura's cheek, and Jane's fingers brushed through Maura's hair a moment later, Jane's chest rising as she yawned. The moments like these were always perfect. They made Maura feel cherished and loved. She'd marry Jane, if she could, have this every morning even if she had to swear an oath of chastity for the rest of her days. There was no sex in the world that felt as good as waking in Jane's warm embrace. There was no better co-parent she could ever find.

But Jane's fatal flaw was her relentless rejection of anything that wasn't pure heterosexuality. So Maura made the compromise, and once more took what she could get.

Jane hadn't realised Maura was awake, and her fingers roamed gently over Maura's back. She could feel the longing and regret in Jane's touch, and it made her want to weep.

But Jane was the person who taught her not to accept less from the people in her life, so reluctantly she raised her head and looked Jane in the eyes.

"I would like a civil union. For tax purposes. I'm not going to find anyone I love more than you, and I'm sick of trying to pretend I ever will."

Jane looked as though Maura had hit her.

"But we're not - I'm not -"

"We don't have to be. It can just be like this. I don't want or need anything other than what we already have, I just want you to know. That you're the person in my life. I don't think it's romantic or sexual, but I feel like - you know the Greek myth where people were created with four legs and arms and two heads, and Zeus got mad and split them in half, destined humans to seek forever for their other half? I'm done looking."

"What if I fall in love with someone else?"

"Why didn't you go be with Casey?" Maura asked. "The truth."

"I couldn't leave you. Not for him. Not for anyone." Jane looked away as though she was ashamed. "What does it mean?"

"I think it means we are each other's primary relationship. Even with Jack, I never felt like I was home until you were here."

"And we don't have to... hook up or anything?" Jane whispered.

Maura chuckled. Jane was nothing if not predictable. "We don't, Jane. You've fulfilled all the rest of my criteria for a partner. Not the society and education criteria I used to have - that left me with people like Garret and Edward. Not the criteria for attraction, because I had that with Dennis and Brad and Giovanni, and see how they worked out? My criteria have changed, and I would only consider committing myself to someone who doesn't care about my fortune - you don't. Someone who doesn't care about my gang affiliations - you don't. Someone who stands up for me, someone who puts me first, some who protects me from danger. Someone who sees all of me and cherishes all of me, not just the parts they like."

"That's how I feel about you," Jane said lowly. "Someone who doesn't see me as broken, someone who doesn't mind my crazy family and my awful hours at work. Someone who makes up reasons for me to hold them so I don't have to admit that I need to be held. I just - I never saw myself with a woman. Or without a - a relationship with sex in it."

"We can try sometime," Maura said, "but it's not as important to me as having the relationship we already have. I'll never expect it from you, and I'll never be hurt that you don't want it for me."

"We can revisit that, can't we?" Jane asked. "If anything changes. You're gorgeous; you should be with someone attracted to you. Someone who desires you."

"I get to decide who I deserve," Maura said sternly. "And I had no choice. The only choice I've made is to tell you."

"What if things change if we don't work together? You once said we were situational friends - work friends."

"If I called from the airport -"

"I'd come get you."

"What if it was a time-sensitive child abduction case?"

"I'd come get you," Jane reiterated, and as far as Maura could tell she meant it. Not that she'd call her away from a case where a life was at stake, but she'd always known Jane would put her first.

"How are we going to explain it?"

Maura sighed. The concept that love like this could exist without a sexual element - there were clearly romantic elements, the way Jane always opened doors for her, the way Jane held an umbrella over her, the way Jane looked at her when she thought she wasn't looking, the way Jane looked at her even when Maura was looking - was relatively new to her.

"They used to call it a Boston Marriage, although now I believe it's called a queerplatonic relationship."

"That would make us queer," Jane said, her nose scrunching. Maura shrugged, liking the way her chest moved against Jane's.

"I've been considering myself heteroflexible for a while. If I weren't asking you this, I'd be dating women instead. I'd just rather be - with you. In whatever context you'd take me."

"Okay," Jane said, and Maura smiled. "I mean. Not okay, not just yet. I mean, okay, I'll think about it. I'm not opposed but this is all new to me. You've been thinking about this for a while."

"I have," Maura admitted. She let her head drop back to Jane's chest, and it didn't feel like a compromise at all when Jane's hand threaded through her hair again, Jane's steady heartbeat lulling her back to sleep.

[fireandfolds]

sometimes it’s frustrating talking about my otps and ships. everyone assumes i ship them in a romantic or sexual way, but i don’t.

monogamous, long-term, exclusive, and intimate relationships aren’t always romantic. queerplatonic and even platonic relationships exist too.

when it comes to ships like luvers (supercorp) or rizzlisles (rizzles) or trudair (truepenance), i ship them as queerplatonic relationships.

my aroace ass feels uncomfortable thinking about things in a romantic or sexual context.

i hope everyone who reads my fanfiction or my posts understand how i feel and how i interpret the world.