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painless-innit-colourful · 3 years ago

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Not Romantic, I Swear

Recently, someone asked Tommy on an alt stream if he was okay with aromantic headcanons of his characters, and he said yes. That was pretty cool, since I was already most of the way through this fic. I present The c!Tommy aro fic, or; TommyInnit doesn’t get romance, but at least he’s got Tubbo. Or so he thought. (TW for a lot of internalised arophobia.)

TommyInnit just doesn’t get it.

‘Don’t worry,’ they’d always say. ‘When you’re a bit older, when the hormones start kicking in, that’s when you’ll understand.’ Okay, so he’s too much of a kid to get it. Where has he heard that before. He’d shrug and continue with his chaos, secure in the knowledge that one day, the whole world would make sense.

Well, he’s sixteen, the hormones have certainly had their opportunity, and nope! He still doesn’t get it.

What the f’ck is romance?

It doesn’t exactly weigh on his mind, but there are peaceful days like this when it whirls around in his thoughts and won’t leave him alone. He watches couples walk the streets of their great nation, marvelling at wildflowers growing in the sunny spots between the redwood trees, and knows he’s not like them. They laugh at each other’s stupid jokes, they hold hands constantly, they pick delicate flowers for each other, and they are in love. Tommy tried those things once or twice, in an attempt to trick his dumb heart into feeling something, by presenting Tubbo - who else - with a little bouquet, and laughing extra hard at his jokes, and holding his hand (something not unusual for them) as they hung out. Tubbo seemed charmed and smiled wider; that’s beside the point. The point is: Tommy felt nothing. Nothing new, at least. He loves his best friend, and by his side, he feels warmer than a sunny August day.

But there’s no great fluttering in his chest, no earth-shattering revelation about one’s existence: it’s just… missing. Okay, so maybe he’s the wrong person. Maybe he’s just not attracted to men, and while it’s uncommon to be straight, it does happen. So he tries it with a girl… Yeah... No. Not only is that also a monumental failure in the feelings department, but he also earns a trip into the L’ake for his troubles. Note to self: work on flirting etiquette.

After getting thoroughly laughed at - thanks Jack - he finds himself sitting outside the Camarvan, letting his coat and boots dry on the side of the van while he sits and smoulders in his soggy clothing. “Heard you went for a swim, Big Man.” Tommy startles violently as Tubbo suddenly ‘rounds the van to sit swiftly beside him. “F’ck off.” He says with no venom. “Hold these.” Tommy sticks his hands out as Tubbo places a hot dog into each one, then shrugs off his coat and takes one back. “Oh, eat, by the way.” “No way, the Gregs have the place up and running again?” “Uh huh, though our good friend Niki Nihachu brings new competition.” They laugh in tandem. “Any drugs in this one?” Tommy asks. “You wanna look around at the nation you’re in?” “Too shay.”

The comfortable quiet they lapse into as they eat their hto dogs is broken only by something with too many legs crawling up Tubbo’s leg and Tommy frantically batting it away before it can make the jump to his. They end up sharing personal space and also a packet of sherbet, and everything is fine and perfect until yet another happy couple goes walking along the other side of the lake, and Tommy wants to chuck stones at them for reminding him of the sprawling reason why he’s still sopping wet. He refrains.

“Tubbo?” “Yeah?” “You ever fallen in love?” Tubbo blinks, caught off guard by Tommy’s question. “I mean, if we’re talking seriously… Why are you asking?” He leans in close enough that Tommy can smell the onions on his breath, and he ducks away from Tubbo’s growing grin. “Haven’t found the girl, have you?” “Ohhh, no- nononononono-” He says, and then has to repeat as Tubbo keeps getting closer, ‘cause ew, onion breath. “I just-” He repositions Tubbo at a safe distance, and the older boy laughs. “I was wondering, if you- if you got it, y’know?” “Got what?” “Like, the whole- y’know-” He mimes swooning and then fans himself like he’s the protagonist of a romance novel. Tubbo giggles. “I’m so in love I’d die for you! Y’know?” “Okay, yeah, on the same page,” He chuckles. “Uh, so, I guess my answer is no? I’ve had crushes before, but you don’t have to worry about me going all Romeo and Juliet.” “Oh thank Prime.”

“I wonder what it’s like though,” Tommy says once their latest round of giggling has subsided. “The falling-head-over-heels for someone.” He doesn’t mention he doesn’t even know what it’s like to like someone in that way. Let’s not worry anyone. “Well, I mean, the way people talk about other people like they’re their entire world… Maybe? Maybe it’s like that? That just sounds like obsession though.” “You’re my entire world Tubbo.” “That’s not true: you’d go to war for Henry and Harold. And your discs.” Tommy gives him a dry look. Two pieces of old shellac, and the cows at his summer house. Tubbo doesn’t seem to notice him though. “Maybe we should ask someone who knows- Wilbur maybe.”

They lock eyes for a solid ten seconds, expressions falling further into something akin to disgust. “If I ever have to listen to that man talk about Sally again, I’m stabbing several people and then sawing my own ears off.” Tubbo snorts. “Oh come on, it’s not that bad, and he did really love her.” “I think you’re missing the point, that being: are we SURE Sally was an actual person?” Tubbo cracks up, while Tommy maintains his facial expression of desperation. “Like- There’s-” Tubbo’s face threatens to undo him, but no, he’s holding ‘till the end of this dumb charade that comes up at least once a month. “There’s no definitive proof she wasn’t a- wasn’t- STOP I’M SO CLOSE- That she wasn’t a fish-”

Onlookers that day describe the vice president and secretary of state rolling about with laughter, but I suppose you had to be there.

Tommy does ask Wilbur though, on one different quiet evening, inside the van and looking out through the windshield at their glorious nation. He’d forgotten about it until then, when he spotted a picture of that briefly joyous family unit on the dashboard, the part of the photo supposedly depicting Fundy’s mother ruined by water damage, the colours bleeding into each other.

“You want to know what it’s like to fall in love?” Wilbur looks down on him through his glasses as he pushes them back up his nose. His reply is indignant, “Are you feeling alright?” “What d’you mean?” That earns him an affectionate ruffle of the hair. “Falling in love… I suppose- Well, it’s personal to everyone, you know?” There’s a twinkle in his eyes as he speaks, and his voice is soft and full of fondness. “For me… It’s inescapable. I knew I loved Sally because I knew I couldn't not love her. I thought about her at all hours of the day: sometimes I still do.” He smiles at Tommy, who holds back a scowl or something equally immature. “Her smile, the sound of her laugh, the way the wind coloured the spaces between her and everything else when she danced. She had a sharp mind and a heart full of so much light and love… Someone like that can put a man six feet under, you know?” “No… I don’t.” Wilbur laughs with a single breath, squeezing Tommy’s shoulder. “One day, Toms, one day you’ll meet the one that knocks you off your feet.” “The one that renders me helpless?” Wilbur sigh-laughs. “Yes.” His gaze goes far away again. “You’ll find the one that renders you helpless, and you’ll wonder how you could ever live without them.”

Tommy puts his arm around Wilbur’s middle and lets his pseudo-brother lean on him as they watch the sky blur the limit between orange and blue. Because he knows. He may not know romantic love, but he understands the loss.

When you get older.

One day you’ll understand.

Tommy grows. What’s the difference between a dandelion and the boy with the blonde hair? Dandelions are great for medicinal purposes. Tommy can’t seem to stop to heal. Yet, somehow, despite the trampling of his leaves and his many uprootings, he is stubbornly unable to be exterminated. He wrestles through the concrete raining down on his head, and he remains, bright and defiant and hard to ignore. The cracks still show, the pieces still come apart sometimes and the colours are muted, but he’s still here. And it’s one more ordinary day in Snowchester that it comes back to him, for the first time in many, many months.

Y’see, he’s been a bit preoccupied lately, what with- Oh what was it… One election, two exiles, at least five wars, approximately four betrayals, two near-funerals, one suicide attempt and a burnt down L’Mantree. But he’s lying on the guest bed in Snowchester, upside-down and hanging over the edge playing a copy of Pokemon Sword that he found buried in his enderchest, when he happens to glance up, through the door to the kitchen. Tubbo and Ranboo are standing at the stove - one of them is cooking, and the other is reaching over to cup the other's face in his hands and kiss him as the song playing from the radio on the windowsill calls for it. Tommy wrinkles his nose and goes back to fighting Marnie’s Morpeko, but the thought won’t leave him now. 'At least Tubbo’s like me' was a thought that used to comfort Tommy like a warm blanket wrapped around his shoulders, but it seems everyone’s favourite enderboy messed that up for him too. He snickers to himself as he wins the battle. Ohhh Ranboo.

He assumed it’s another after product of… well, everything. He’s emotionally traumatised (thanks Puffy): he’s been depressed and suicidal and literally dead and he’s anxious and he can’t take too much damage before he freaks out - why not? He survived everything, but when somethings break, they don’t mend like they did before. He never got old enough to know what it’s like to love like an adult. His special someone probably died in a crater.

But then he remembers couples, and he remembers walks at dusk, and laughing much too hard at terrible jokes and holding hands, and sharing sherbet in the sunshine, and giving flowers, and he finds that he’s abandoned his Switch on the bed, and he’s leaning on the doorframe with the drawstrings of his hoodie wrapped around his fingers, watching his friends do this thing they call ‘romantic domesticity’, and watching them with a bittersweet smile, because he knows deep down he’ll never get it, he’ll never have this.

He’s aromantic, isn’t he?

He didn’t want to think about it before. Couldn’t think about it. He’d been researching identities and sexualities on another one of those crazily ordinary nights after he’d had this long conversation with Eret; his interest had been piqued, you could say. He’d torn through wiki pages, video essays and tumblr blogs at 3am, learning rabidly about everything from m-spec sexualities to mogai identities, to polyamory and different extremities of the a-spec. Bits of it flew over his head. He went down several bizarre gender rabbit holes, all of them with pretty flags. And finally, he read up on aromanticism. The words seemed to reach off his phone screen, taking his hand in theirs and saying ‘It’s not just you! We promise it’s okay!’, to which he abruptly shut off his phone, turned over and went to sleep, blaming it all on the sleep deprivation. It stayed with him though, hovering over his shoulder like an unwelcome raincloud, threatening to break and soak him to the skin and even deeper.

Yet it had held off, until now. The rain pattered against the floorboards, running down his cheeks and dripping from his chin. He didn’t get romance. He didn’t feel it. It didn’t work. He felt, oh god did he feel so strongly for others. For Tubbo, for Ranboo and Michael, Wilbur and Techno and Puffy and Henry and L’Manberg and yes, the discs. But. But it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t the right kind.

With a rhythmic clapping of synthetic drums, the song on the radio changes. Tubbo exclaims: “Tune!” and shuffles his feet around as much as his post at the stove allows. Ranboo rolls his eyes with a laugh, “You say that about every other song.” The song soon becomes recognisable as Whitney Houston’s ‘I Wanna Dance With Somebody (Who Loves Me)’, and Tommy can’t tell exactly what it is (the title of the song or the sentiment or the best friend dancing with his husband or the thoughts whirring around in his mind like a hurricane - or a combination of them all) but he needs to get out of this house. Now.

“Tommy, you good?” Ranboo’s voice chases him as he darts through the kitchen to the door. “Yeah, just- Just need some air.” They’re too quiet behind him, much too suspicious, but he hopes the song will keep them occupied. The chilly open air welcomes him outside, and he pulls his hoodie tighter around him by the drawstrings. He summons his shield and sword from his inventory at the slightest sound behind him, eternally razor-sharp instincts snapping at the shuffle in the snow, blocking the shot from the stray that rounds the building. The arrow thuds into his shield, sticking as he advances on the skeleton and delivers two swift strikes that destroy the body of the monster. The bleach-white bones clatter to the ground, and he waits in the silence for something else to take a crack at the unkillable kid. The silence stretches on, and he exhales, his breath a swirling white cloud in the air.

So. Him. Aromantic. He puts his sword away and yanks the arrow out of his shield, shouldering it while he holds the arrow in his free hand. It’s heavy, roughly made and, if he’s going to be all dramatic about it, so much more than an arrow. He places the sharp end against his chest, right where his heart is. It beats, it loves. It’s not enough. Not enough to be wanted. Not enough to be someone else’s number one, not- not anymore. That’s what scares him. That’s the thorn that’s been scratching his side since he found out, that’s the part of him he hates. He glances back through the window to the kitchen, where Ranboo is spinning Tubbo to the tinnily echoing Whitney song, and the grins on their faces are wide and endless and for each other, and only each other, and goddammit, he’s jealous. He is. He’s jealous and insecure and steeped in self-loathing and he wishes he were more, but he isn’t. He sits down hard on a log by a burnt-out campfire, flicking the projectile around in his hand. Cupid’s arrow missed his heart, struck a lung and tore him apart. Put that on top of the… well, everything else, and what does he have to work with?

That’s the terrifying notion. He will never be another person’s number one, no matter what he does; he’s never been good at pretending to be what he’s not. Each person has their other half, someone to kiss and cuddle and spend a life with. Heck, it doesn’t even have to be one person: polyamory dictates you can be devoted to as many people as you like, and he’s seen it before, little groups of people holding hands and switching dance partners between them and looking person to person with hopeless romantic eyes and stop, stop, stop, stop. He doesn’t want to think about it. He’s going to be alone forever, because it doesn’t matter how many partners you can want to have, he doesn’t fit that requirement at all. He doesn’t want to, in all honesty. He’s just petrified of being alone. Which he will be, so stop crying about it.

Tubbo has Ranboo now, and a child, and a home all without him, and it happened while he was trapped in the prison with Dream, or maybe even while he was dead and floating through the endless void on the other side, forgotten and moved on from, a mere remnant of the past. It stings.

He buries his face in his hands and melts the snow by his feet with some more of that raincloud. Far away, in other life, but perhaps also here, the click of a door closing gently rings out in the still night air. Footsteps in snow, soft crunches draw closer, and the first thing the approaching boy does when he reaches Tommy is drape a shawl around his shoulders. “You’ll catch your death out here like that.” Tubbo’s usual matter o’ fact tone hasn’t caught on yet, and he pauses for a moment in the ensuing silence. “Oh. Sorry. I really need to stop- or start thinking, actually, when I talk.”

The quiet settles around them like the freshly fallen snow coming to rest gently on Tommy’s head and shoulders, melting and seeping into his clothes. Tubbo leans over and brushes it away, one of his hands coming to rest on Tommy’s shoulders as he wiggles inside the shawl until they are close enough to be one being, wrapped up in a scarf against the elements. Together, they are alone in the light emanating from the house, the only two things alive in the world. Tubbo settles his head on Tommy’s shoulder, totally at ease, and Tommy’s heart flutters. He feels compelled to talk about it. Y’know, it. What better chance is he going to get?

“It’s been a while since it’s been just the two of us,” Tommy tries to keep the tears out of his voice as much as possible, unconsciously reaching a hand across their laps to find Tubbo’s. Tubbo hums his agreement, “Sorry ‘bout that.” He smiles up at Tommy with a slight tilt of his head. “But, well, y’know.” “Yeah, um, about that…” He swallows hard. “I… Well, you know how, um- There’s this thing-” The words, eternally doomed to get stuck in his throat, are in severe danger of choking him up, so ABORT MISSION. New tactic:

“Can I be a b’tch for a minute?” Tubbo snorts. “Uh, sure?” “I don’t like your husband.” Without looking, Tommy hears and feels Tubbo’s scowl. “Wait, wait a minute, I promise I’m going somewhere with this.” “If you accuse my husband of arson and/or thievery, I’m dismissing you from this courtroom.” “No, I - hah, good one - No, I promise this has a point.” He clears his throat. “I don’t like… Not him, I mean- I don’t not like Ranboo, he’s a lovely guy and I’m sure he makes you very happy- I mean, I know he does, I was literally there, you two are borderline obnoxious and- off-topic, where was I- Oh yeah- So I don’t not like Ranboo, but, well, the problem is I don’t know if you like him more than me- which isn’t a problem, really you can like whoever you want the most, I just get a bit- bit lonely is all, and I wanted to know if you still like me? A lot? Like back in the day?”

Tubbo sits back, blinks at him twice, rubs his eyes and stares at the ground with enough bewilderment to melt ice. “What?” “I- I’m aromantic.” A second passes. “Ohhhhh.”

“Yeah, um- I was wondering, and please don’t- don’t say like, what you don’t mean to make me feel better, because I want to-” “You remember when we died in the war,” Tommy stops dead in his tracks, looking down at Tubbo and trying to convince him with one look to Stop Right There. Tubbo meets his gaze, and something about it conveys Tommy’s earlier message: ‘I promise there’s a point to this’.

“When Eret betrayed us and got us all killed-” Tubbo's face drops into a sadness that could be painted on. “-I felt… like nothing. I mean, I’d spent hours upon hours, grinding and smithing and preparing with them, and they still had us all killed, like none of it mattered. But you-” The shawl falls partially away from his shoulders as Tubbo reaches up and takes Tommy’s face in his hands. “When we woke in the camarvan, the first thing you did was- was look for me. We’d all died, and the first thing you did was grab a hold of me and make sure I was alright.” He smiles, softly and genuinely, and something about it makes Tommy feel warm even without the shawl. Tubbo leans closer, dropping his voice to an uncertain whisper in Tommy’s ear, sharing words only ever meant to be heard by the two of them. “After I- I exiled you, and you still put yourself in the line of fire for me, and we lost L’Manberg, and everything... You invited me to stay in your house. And you held my hand when I was sad, and you didn’t stop holding my hand for days. Our friendship was never about playing heroes or always being perfect at being there or sacrificing it all or- whatever. ”

He pulls Tommy in for an easy embrace, and Tommy doesn’t think about how effortlessly they fit together. “But you looked for me first when I needed it most. You forgave me for my worst mistakes. I didn’t forget that. I’m sorry I’ve been a little bit- not distant but, further away lately. Tunnel-visioned. But I still love you. I love Ranboo because he’s my husband. I love Michael, my son. And I love you, because you’re my boy. Always have been, always will be. Don’t worry about it.”

Tommyinnit doesn’t cry very often. He’s a reputation to uphold, and he’s got to pretend something’s normal. He can tear up every now and again (more often lately than ever before), but he doesn’t really cry. But as two boys sit wrapped up in each other's arms, the clouds blow away, taking the snow with them. The sky is awash with stars, and one of them smells like onions, and for the first time in a long time, Tommy doesn’t feel like he’s going to be alone forever. And he starts bawling.

Broken sobs echo tinnily across the frozen town, bouncing between buildings and rocketing off ice sheets and across the sea. The frigid air burns his throat as he gulps down bigger and bigger breaths to try and stop the waterworks. “Hey,” Tubbo’s hands shift, and temporarily it only serves to make Tommy cry harder: he wanted that moment, however awkward, to last forever. He sits back and pulls a sleeve over one of his hands, reaching up to wipe away some of Tommy’s tears with a few gentle swipes.

"Things will be different. But you'll always be my best, dearest friend," He cups Tommy's cheek and leans their foreheads together. "And I'll always be yours if you'll have me." Tommy's breathy laugh is wet with tears and full of all the affection he's been saving since the beginning of time. Oh. That's what love is, isn't it? "Of course." And then, "You're my entire world, Tubbo."

Tubbo's eyes mist up. "You get all sappy when you're sad," The boy in green jumps to his feet, wrapping the shawl firmly around Tommy's shoulders and using it to pull him along. "My whole world's my family-" And he pauses, tilting his head to the side like he does when he's about to say something cheesy. "Come be a part of it."

And Tubbo's smile matures into a good-natured laugh, and Tommy's heart could fly right out of his chest. And the wind colours the space between them, quickly closing, and Tommy doesn't know who says it first, but he knows two things.

The first one is that he's going to be alright. He's not going to be alone. "I love you," can be platonic and still have someone's world caving in. It happened to him.

And the second one is that compulsive amatonormativity in society convinces people that they have to pair off with some other person to be a whole individual and live a happy life. That’s not true. He believes it’s not true. Because a happy family can be the de-facto leader of the commune, his enderman husband, their pigman child and the kid in the red and white shirt that wears his heart so firmly on his sleeve he’s surprised no one figured it out earlier. Oh well.

"I love you, Tubbs."

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Taglist: @nixavia @zrenia @spaceheatertrash @waitblues @kinda-late-but-here-though @icyisweird @boomybelovd @rozugold and for the people who came running when I said aro c!Tommy: @ineedblue @storm-jay @prinxe-with-no-crown @o0o0o0o0o0o

#hey so if you're one of the two people that expressed interest in this in june and i haven't seen since: hi! i dug back through my archive t #to find that post again because tumblr's wonderful search function ate it #the grind is real #dream smp #tommyinnit #tubbo #wilbur soot #clingy duo #l'manberg #finally. it is done #funny thing with this one #turns out writing about your personal problems doesn't make very good optimistic fics if you haven't solved those problems yet #so that's why this one took so long #but that's a story for another day XD #anyway! if you enjoyed it please rb + comment? it means the absolute world #and if you wanna be put on/taken off the taglist let me know!#crim writes

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sableaire · 7 years ago

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Praline, blueberry lemon, & orange sherbet?

(From this asklist!)

praline: a popular book you haven’t read yet?Oh, easy one: Percy Jackson and the Lightning Thief. I ought to, but I remember when the series was popular, I got so frustrated about Hades having an illegitimate son (when to my knowledge he had only ever had one affair on record, and even that was not initiated by him and is historically disputed) that I disavowed it, ahahaha. This was the same reason I stopped watching Disney’s Hercules like 7 minutes into it when I was a child, because I was like, “Hercules isn’t Hera’s son and Hades isn’t evil and I hate this.” I’ve heard great things since though, so I should probably read it…

blueberry lemon: favorite blogs?I know this is probably referring to Tumblr blogs, but my immediate thoughts went first to Allie Brosh’s Hyperbole and a Half and then to Chuck Wendig’s Terrible Minds. The former is a delightful humor blog that I still miss since its indefinite hiatus/end in 2013, and the latter is a writing advice blog that pulls no punches and has a crass but cutting wit like a rusted knife.

orange sherbet: favorites for anime?I’m assuming this is asking what my favorite anime are, and if so, oh boy, buckle up, this one’s going below a cut:

I do this kind of stuff often on my Wordpress, but first let me explain what causes me to love a story - I call it the Methods & Mediums approach, in which I ask myself, was this chosen medium the most effective way this particular story could have been told? If the answer is yes, I find that I, if not enjoy, at least appreciate it. As such, my favorite anime are often of a varying feeling and genre. Of course, of those, there are still those that are even more to my personal taste than others, so those are the ones I’m including now.

Princess Tutu - I actually did write an M&M blog post for this one, but to summarize, it seems a frivolous children’s show at first, but upon watching it, the show provides a compelling narrative exploring, “[…] the nature of fairy tales, a question of destiny and free will. Who is entitled to a happy ending? Can everyone achieve their happy ending? And if so, on whose terms?” You can read the post I linked for a more in-depth, non-spoilery-as-possible review. Most importantly, it is a story that absolutely could not have been told as anything other than an anime.

Hunter x Hunter (2011) - I remember the day I started watching this show. It was a few days before Final Exams, and I was bored, wanted something dumb and casual to pass the time. I remembered seeing Hunter x Hunter (2011) near the top of every anime chart I’ve seen, and I laughed. Look at that dumb shounen hair, I said. Look at these terrible character designs. This looks like the most cliche shounen I’ve ever seen. And then five episodes later, when I planned to watch one and stop, I was like “oh no.” By the next day, I had watched 36. Masterful storytelling backed by strong, consistent animation, riveting OST, fantastic characters, and no filler, I fell hard for this anime which was anything but dumb and cliche. It’s not for everyone, but I never hesitate to recommend it to new friends.

Gekkan Shoujo Nozaki-kun - The epitome of school anime comedy, in my personal opinion. Harmless hilarity and feelgood humor, colorful and bright with a memorable cast of characters, it also has one of the best opening songs of its anime season. I’m still waiting a season 2 announcement, come on, any day now… the manga has so much more content to animate!!

.hack//Sign - Alright, now this one’s a polarizing one. I watched this anime when I was younger, so perhaps it is a nostalgia factor playing in, but something about this anime, despite its lackluster animation and slower pacing, caught and kept my attention when I was like, 11 years old. Actually, it had an influence on me from when I was even younger, because I remember when I was like 7, I saw it on American TV at night, and then I had a nightmare about the white girl floating asleep above her bed. Something about the show had enamored me. Perhaps it was the gorgeous OST, or maybe even as a kid I liked philosophical concepts. Regardless, this anime is still near and dear to my heart.

Shouwa Genroku Rakugo Shinjuu - This is definitely not one for everyone, but it was a gorgeous character-driven anime about mistakes, relationships, culture, change, and deep passion for one’s work and companions. I always adore stories that explore these themes, and the stunning art and animation, along with nuanced narrative framing, made this anime a must-watch for me, if heartbreaking at several points. Another part that I deeply appreciated was, later on, a couple raising a family together despite acknowledgment that there were no romantic feelings involved. One of the characters just held a deep platonic affection and wanted to support the other. As someone aromantic and asexual, this was a delightful surprise for me, especially when the child was so cute, dear god, I loved him so much.

#Anonymous #sableask #anime rec #blogs #anime #aroace #aromanticism

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