#aromanticism is like 'hey man. i need you to take a second look at all of this. now go out and be normal'

[vulpinesaint]

i will say one thing. being aromantic really made me have to confront my desire to be the most important person in someone's life. and it fucking sucked to work through the pipeline of like. amatonormativity means that for most people, romance makes you the most important person to someone else —> i will never have romance —> i will never be the most important person to someone else —> i have to learn to survive as a person on my own rights —> my relationships are significant whether or not i am someone's first priority —> relationships can be awesome and all-consuming in other ways —> the expectation that there should be one sole important person is amatonormative and fucked up to begin with —> it's not healthy or reasonable to expect to be someone's One and Only. and going through that it was terrible it hurt so much. but at the end of it... i am so much more secure as an individual and as someone building relationships with other human beings. deconstructing amatonormativity will do so much for you in all areas of your life i promisssseeeeeee

[demonsonthemoon]

We Shall Rule - Chapter 2

Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe Pairing: Platonic Bucky Barnes/Clint Barton, background Jessica Drew/Natasha Romanoff Word Count: 3953 Summary: Bucky Barnes is slowly recovering from trauma and trying to start a having a normal life once more. Then he meets Clint, a new variable that intrigues him in a way he can’t quite name. This is a story of people learning to know each others and themselves, navigating identity and relationships, overcoming trauma and trust issues. It’s a story about life. Note: Written for #AggressivelyArospecWeek 2017 over at @aggressivelyarospec.  Currently a work in progress, so I’ll post the first two chapters during the week, and then I’ll try to post one chapter a month.

Also available on AO3.

Bucky didn't call Clint.

It wasn't because he didn't want to. He did. He just didn't know why he wanted to. He couldn't understand why the guy had caught his attention, and didn't want to act without a reason.

He tried to just ignore the night altogether, but his brain had a habit of not listening once it had latched onto something.

He did some research in the meantime, trying to get a better grasp on what aromanticism entailed since it seemed to be an important subject to Clint. His first intuition was confirmed when he saw that aromanticism was defined as a total lack of romantic attraction, no matter a person's gender. He also quickly realized what Clint had meant when talking about an “aromantic spectrum”, and looked up a few more identities that belonged in the arospec category. He was especially interested after finding an article that defined amatonormativity, the way society as a whole saw romantic love as inherent to human nature and as a compulsory necessity. It was nice to be confronted to a worldview he hadn't known he had held and to be forced to put it into question.

He hadn't really thought about romance since his injury, too busy getting himself to function again, then getting himself to a state he could adequately call “better”. But he realized that a part of him had expected him to start focusing on it again at some point, like it was something he had to do. Of course doing research didn't help put Clint out of his mind. It also didn't help the morbid quality that his fixation on the man was taking on. Bucky felt conflicted, feeling like this need to understand the man was only strengthening the idea he had of him as other, as a curiosity more than a human being. And so Bucky didn't call.

But one day he got a text.

He still hadn't been cleared for work after his injury, and so his days were filled with a lot of nothing interspaced with bouts of therapy, both physical and psychological. This meant that he was very quick to jump onto the distraction that his phone offered and see who was contacting him.

The fact that Clint's named was brightly displayed on his home screen came as a surprise though.

For a second, he considered not reading the message. He felt like he was in highschool again, weighing the consequences of each of his actions as if they would have an immeasurable impact on the rest of his life.

His muscles tensed up.

Then he finally opened the text.

Hi :) would you like to get a coffee or smthg some time this week?? my friends say I need to get out of the house

Bucky considered his options. This was an opening. An excuse to act and not have to blame it on himself. He wondered whether he should just admit that he didn't really have anything to do all week, thought about whether it would seem desperate or not. Realized that he was once more acting like this was his last year of high school all over again.

I'm free today if that's okay 4 u?

It was three o'clock on a Thursday. Hopefully Clint wouldn't ask any invasive question about his schedule.

In an hour downtown at the Falcon?

Bucky thought about it. He could vaguely picture where the coffee shop was situated, but was surprised that Clint would suggest it.

Weren't you supposed to be broke??

He only had to wait a few seconds for the answer.

Barista on duty today owes me a favor :))))

Bucky smiled, without thinking about it. He started twirling a strand of hair around his finger.

Meet you there.

Bucky pocketed his phone. He put away the book he had abandoned on the coffee table. Looking around the apartment, he took in how spotless it was. It never used to be like that, before. Steve was kind of a slob, despite what everyone seemed to think when they first met him, and when Bucky had been working in town as well as going through school, he hadn't had time, energy nor desire to clean things. But there wasn't anything else for him to do now, not until he got cleared by his two therapists as fit-to-work. So he did the housework, and tried not to feel like a sitcom housewife and greet Steve with a kiss as he came home.

And at least Steve knew him well enough and had the decency not to comment on the state of their apartment. Even when Bucky got stressed and started cleaning things that had been spotless all along, he didn't say anything.

He was too good a friend, sometimes, and it broke Bucky's heart. Bucky hadn't always been so easy to be good to.

Maybe that was one of the reasons he wanted to see Clint again so badly. He was new. He was a blank slate. Bucky hadn't known Sam before his injury, but Sam was Steve's friend, it wasn't the same. Clint could be a new beginning.

He flinched at the thought. He didn't want to use the man in any way. He wanted to see him as a person. Nothing more, nothing less. He wanted to control his thoughts and feelings again, to be able to trust that his brain knew what he was doing.

Bucky realized he was wearing sweatpants and the t-shirt he had slept in, and quickly took a shower before he changed.

It was one of the days during which Steve worked on his freelance illustrator business, so he stopped by his office and quietly knocked on the doorframe. Steve took off his headphones and looked up, blinking like a confused bird.

“I'm going out. For coffee. Should be back by early evening.”

“Uh? Okay. Have fun?”

Bucky smiled. Steve was always too engrossed in his work when he was drawing. It took him minutes to snap out of it and get back to the real world.

“Yeah. Just wanted to warn you in case you started looking for me. Get back to work now.”

Steve mock-saluted him, and Bucky rolled his eyes as he walked away and closed the door behind him. The coffee place was twenty minutes away from the apartment he shared with Steve, but the bus was mostly empty and he found a seat easily. He thought he could feel gazes on him as he kept silent in his spot, but couldn't pinpoint where they were coming from. He kept his eyes on the doors.

The shakes in his leg started after ten minutes.

Stepping out of the bus felt like seeing the sky for the first time, and Bucky took a minute to collect himself before walking to the coffee shop only two streets away.

Clint was already there, his hair a mess, a band-aid on one of his cheeks and cradling a steaming cup in his hands. He was wearing a grey t-shirt with some kind of design on it that Bucky couldn't make out.

He walked in and made his way to Clint's table, trying not to fidget. His prosthetic felt awkward, and Bucky couldn't help but rub at the plastic wrist even though he knew it was fine.

Clint looked up and grinned at him. Bucky noticed dark circles under his eyes, but didn't feel comfortable asking about them.

“Hey, Bucky. Take a seat. Or do you want to order first? Sorry I didn't wait for you, I was kind of craving a fix...”

Bucky raised an eyebrow at his choice of words, but once again didn't comment. “I'll go order, give me a minute.” He took off his leather jacket and draped it over the back of the chair before turning to the counter.

He could feel his body vibrate from anxiety and decided to ignore all types of coffee available and settle on a chai latte. He didn't have to wait more than a minute for his drink to be ready and gratefully took it back to the table.

Clint was staring out of the window, looking kind of distracted.

“Clint?” The other man didn't seem to react. “Hey?” Bucky said, a bit louder.

Clint jumped, and immediately turned to face him again. “Sorry.” He started scratching at his neck, right where Bucky had noticed that he had a scar. “I was kind of zoning out.”

“I would say. Are you okay?”

Clint seemed taken aback for a second, then shrugged. “Okay enough, I guess? I'm just tired, and I haven't seen a lot of people these past few days except for work so... yeah.”

“If you'd rather have some time for yourself, though...” Bucky started saying. Clint had been the one to invite him in the first place, but he had also said something about his friends pushing him to do it? Anyway, Bucky didn't want to be a bother or make him feel uncomfortable or like he owed him anything.

“Dude, chill,” Clint said, projecting calm. “You look like you're about to bolt. I'm fine. I just need a nice distraction, which is why I called you. Are you feeling okay?”

Bucky shrugged. He didn't want to talk about the paranoia and anxiety that seemed to cling to his skin since he had stepped on the bus. “Okay enough.” He smiled, surprised at how naturally the gesture came to him.

Clint laughed. “Look at us! What a pair. Speaking of which... How the fuck are your eyes so blue? I hadn't noticed it last time because it was so dark, but damn!” He whistled, grinning as he took another sip of his coffee. Bucky stared. There was no way the other man had actually just said that. Without a pause or the barest hint of self-consciousness. People didn't just say that. It didn't happen. Clint smiled.

“I'm pretty sure it's just genetics.” Bucky replied, carefully keeping a neutral expression. “That or my mother bathed me in the blood of innocents when I was a baby.”

Clint choked on his drink, and Bucky took a sip of his latte to hide both his laughter and his lingering embarrassment at the compliment. He wasn't really sure whether Clint was teasing or genuinely flirting, and had no idea how to ask without sounding either too eager or like an asshole. Especially since he had no idea what his own position was towards Clint. He barely knew the guy, sure, but he clearly remembered flirting with girls he barely knew before. It hadn't felt like this, though. Could Bucky be flirting without realizing? Was that even possible?

He chased the thoughts away. It didn't matter right now. He could think about it later, and still enjoy the present company and positive attention.

“I was not expecting that. But fair enough. So your mother is a witch?”

Bucky shook his head, smiling. “Not that I know of. We did have a black cat when I was a child though. But if I'm honest, my sister is probably the witch in our family. She definitely had her goth phase at least.”

Of course Esther would try to kill him if she heard him say this. That, or remark that he still wasn't out of his punk phase himself, which wasn't actually true, because punk wasn't a phase. Clint didn't have to know all that.

“Oh god. So, I have this friend, Kate? She's a few years younger than me, and I found some of her teenage pictures, and she was a total scene kid. Most hilarious thing I've ever seen. I still haven't found her old Myspace account, but I know it exists.”

“I'm pretty sure I still have a Myspace account floating around somewhere...”

Clint seemed genuinely taken aback by that. “Oh my god. How old are you?”

“Twenty-six. You?”

“Twenty-nine. Thirty in like...” He scrunched up his face a little. “A month? But seriously. You had a Myspace?”

“Well, yeah. I was super into music. Still am, though I can't really play anymore – long story.” Bucky picked up his cup with his prosthetic hand, a nervous gesture that was probably drawing more unwanted attention to the thing but that he couldn't help. “So I got a Myspace.”

“God I feel old.” He drank another sip of coffee. “What kind of music?”

“Dude. You do not ask that question to someone who just told you they're really into music. It's a fucking rabbit hole. I will literally go on for hours if you let me.”

Clint shrugged. “Told you I needed a distraction.”

Bucky thought of the buzzing in his head that had been there since his bus journey. At least it had calmed down a little. Maybe he needed a distraction too.

He usually wasn't keen on talking about his passion with people who weren't also on board, because they tended not to understand. They would see it as misplaced dedication, energy he could put into something else, or downright disapprove of his choice of genres. Or simply become scared by the level of enthusiasm he could show.

“Okay. So I'm mostly into punk. A lot of classic 70's stuff. Not a big fan of The Clash. I know they're supposed to be this staple of the genre or whatever, but they're just not really my thing. I like a bit of Sex Pistols, though. Buzzcocks, X-Ray Spex, The Slits,... Classic stuff. Big fan of folk punk as well. Best friend got me into that. There's a lot of good new stuff in the genre. Like, you can still feel the DIY soul in a lot of it, but with additional mad skills on the acoustic guitar. I mean, it's just so annoying when people say that punk became too commercial, as if there's just one kind of punk music. Of course the things that are played on the radio are commercial, that's why they're on the radio. You can only get away with playing punk on mainstream shows if the song has become a classic already. So a lot of people think there's nothing new happening in the genre. But a lot of kids are still doing their thing and putting their stuff out there without making profit. So yeah. I also listen to some metal, some hardcore, a bit of old rock. And, well, jazz, I guess. My mom was a jazz fan. That's what I grew up on before I started my 'rebellious teenage phase' as she likes to call it. I'm not a connoisseur, but I still listen to what we used to play at home.” He looked up into Clint's eyes after finishing his tirade. The blond was staring back, almost empty mug of coffee in hand and an eyebrow rose. Bucky started scratching his neck. “You're lucky, dude. I gave you the very short version here.”

Clint let out a short puff of laughter and shook his head. “I promise I'm not laughing at you. It's just... Now that you mention it, I can totally see the teenage punk rocker in you. That, and how intense you got... It's just adorable.”

Bucky bent his head down slightly, letting his long hair hide the blush on his cheeks.

“Never would have pinned you as a mama's boy, though.”

Bucky shrugged. “I was always close to my mom and sister. My mom got a divorce from my dad when I was still really young and my sister a toddler. Apparently he was a drunk, or something. I never got the whole story from my mom. But we decided we only had each other, so we stuck together. And then my best friend's mom died, and we took him in too, kind of.”

Clint put his elbow on the table and rested his chin on his hand. “That sounds... nice, I guess.”

Bucky could feel some tension there, and was almost afraid to ask, but did anyway. If he kept on only dipping his toes, he would never actually learn to know the guy. “Not the best relationship with your own family?”

Clint laughed, in an open but bitter way. “Yeah, no. Parents died in a car crash when I was a kid. Went through foster care for a while. Then my brother turned 18 and somehow managed to get custody of me. I mean, foster care was awful. But my brother is an asshole. So, yeah.” He opened his arms in some kind of vaguely grand gesture. “This is the life-story of poor old me.”

“Are you really gonna call yourself old all the time just because I'm three years younger than you?”

Clint laughed again. “I'm old in the soul.”

“Right...” Bucky replied with a disbelieving raise of eyebrow. He took another sip of his chai latte. The atmosphere wasn't exactly awkward, but Bucky didn't know how to keep the conversation going, and he could feel Clint become distracted again. He wanted to talk about what had happened at the party they'd met. He wanted to mention his research on aromanticism, talk about it with Clint. But he had no idea how to bring up any of that without standing like a creep who also wanted a cookie for trying to be open-minded.

Bucky was suddenly reminded of why he wasn't good at one-on-ones. He just couldn't think of anything to say. If there had been a conversation going on around him, he would have been perfectly happy to lie back and listen in silence. But here, now, the silence felt like his personal responsibility. He was overthinking again.

Why did people talk about, when they didn't know each other? All the new acquaintances he had made in the last year had been friends of Steve, so he hadn't had to actually carry the conversation.

“So... um. You come here regularly?” He asked, internally flinching at how ridiculous it sounded.

Clint immediately focused back on him. He shrugged. “I guess. Like I told you, I know one of the baristas.” Clint turned slightly to look towards the counter, and pointed out one of the people behind it. The person has short dark hair and was currently frowning at the register. “That's Billy. Nice kid.”

Now that he thought about it, the young man's face felt kind of familiar. He seemed to be in his early twenties, definitely younger than Bucky.

“How do you know each other?”

“He's one of Kate's friends.” Clint frowned. “That sounded slightly pathetic. Now that I think about it, a lot of my friends are people I met through her. Or people from work. Kiiiind of sad.” He took a gulp of his drink, not really seeming bothered by his situation.

Bucky didn't know what to say to that, so he tried being honest. “I don't meet a lot of new people either these days, apart from my roommate's friends. So I guess we're kind of alike.”

“Oh. You live with someone?”

Bucky nodded. “Yeah. My best friend, I guess.” Steve was a hard person to define, at least in regards to himself. Their relationship had been through so many different changes, putting a word to it felt reductive somehow. Like it could never do justice to the concept it tried to express. “He's pretty much family. We first officially moved in together when he started college.”

“Officially moved in?”

Bucky tried not to let any of his thoughts show on his face. With a history as complicated as he and Steve's, there were a lot of things he couldn't disclose to the first stranger. As much because they weren't his to share as because he himself was uncomfortable with sharing them.

“He was kind of living with my family already before that. It's a long story. We met when we were like... eight. So we're kinda close.”

Clint whistled. Which was apparently also a thing that actual people – or at least Clint – did. “That's a long time, I'm impressed. I never really had such close childhood friends. And, like I said, my brother is a dick. I'm kind of jealous I guess.”

Bucky shrugged. “I mean, I love him. I do. He's great and... I guess it's just nice that there's someone who's shared so much of my life, so much of who I've been through the years. And who still sticks around. But, like... It's a relationship. Like any relationship. We've had our ups and downs. Nobody will ever understand everything about you, you know?”

“Mmh.”

“But that's also a good thing. Discovering new things about each other. And still being there.”

Clint smiled softly. “Those sound like wise words. It does seem like you two get along really well.”

Bucky ran a hand through his hair. “Yeah.” He felt the conversation come to a lull again, but this time he was himself more focused inwards than anything. He finished the last cold sips of his chai latte as Clint played with his own empty mug.

“Speaking of Steve-”

“Your roommate?” Clint interrupted, and Bucky realized he hadn't actually told him his name.

“Yeah. I think I'm gonna head back before he starts to worry. I told him I was leaving, but when he gets focused on his work he forgets literally everything, so if I stay away for more than two hours there's a chance he'll call the police and tell them I've been kidnapped.”

Clint laughed openly. “You know, I would never have thought you would be the kind of guy to use exaggerations like that. You seem a lot colder, when we don't know you.”

Bucky mustered up his best dead-eyed stare. He then raised an eyebrow. “You only think I'm exaggerating.” He immediately broke character, letting out a genuine smile. The whole routine earned him one more laugh from Clint. “We get a little protective about each other sometimes-” Bucky could feel the time when Steve hadn't been by his side like a physical void. He had felt so vulnerable then, not even because of the real danger, but because of the loneliness. “But that's just how things go with us.” “It sounds nice.”

Bucky shrugged. “I guess. I'll... I'll see you around? We could do this again, if work ever gets too much for you?”

Clint laughed. “Don't say that, or you'll be seeing me every day.”

“I've got nothing better to do, to be honest.”

“How come?” Clint asked.

It was much too long a story when he had just told the other man he was going to leave, so Bucky gave the short version. “I don't work. I don't study either. Basically I'm on indefinite medical leave, so my schedule is very flexible and mostly revolves around emptiness. So, yeah. Just text me if you ever need company?”

He stood up and grabbed his leather jacket. He stopped himself from flinching. He had made the whole thing sound so... civilian. Medical leave, instead of being discharged due to injury. Bucky felt like he had dust in his mouth.

“Will do. It was nice seeing you again, Bucky.”

“Yeah. Same for me. I'll talk to you soon.”

He gave a small and awkward wave which Clint returned with a smile, then turned away and walked out of the coffeeshop.

The air was much colder than when he had arrived, as dark clouds were now hiding the sun. Bucky could feel rain in the air and put his arms around himself as he waited for his bus.

[cardentist]

this is probably gonna be a jumbled mess if it amounts to anything at all but I can't help but feel that exclusionists who aren't outright bigots in the same vein as terfs are just extremely insecure and afraid to self reflect despite the fact that self reflection is like, healthy

and that’s not even to say that I think they’re “really ace and just don’t want to admit it,” but a popular narrative that I’ve seen spread is that asexuality is going to “confuse kids” as well as personal accounts of people admitting completely unprovoked that they either fit the definition of asexuality but instead choose to demonize the fact that it’s a thing or that they would have identified as it at one point if they’d known about it as a child, as if that were a bad thing exploring your sexuality or gender, even if you find that you identify the same as you did before or at least that the specific identity that you were considering wasn’t correct, is completely healthy. Like I’ve seen time and time again people claim that asexuality is just gonna make would-be gay people ace, but even if that were as massive as a problem as they’re making it out to be (which I can assure you it isn’t) that's completely normal? Like, I didn’t identify as gay when I first started questioning. I mean, I personally didn’t really identify as anything for a while, though in this society that means that I assumed I was straight despite the fact that I figured that if either a man or a woman asked me out I’d probably say yes to both of them assuming they didn’t ask at the same time. At that point in time I wasn’t questing my sexuality or gender identity and quite frankly it sucked. I’d considered I might have been bi a few times but never actively sought out relationships with anyone so that never had the chance to solidify in my mind as a possibility. I didn’t really start understanding myself until I started considering I might be ace. The end of the journey of self discovery led me to realize that the reason I felt the same way about men and women is because I’m not actually attracted to either of them. I personally couldn’t tell the difference between romance and platonic feelings at the time because I was a child who didn’t know any better and hadn’t really thought about it. the idea of sex and sexuality was daunting and made me uncomfortable, so realizing asexuality was like a thing helped me to examine my sexuality in a situation that takes sex out of the equation. as you might notice I have listed on my profile that I’m aroace and gay, and while I’m certain that quite a few exclusionists would have a field day with that I have no real desire to give them the time of day so I’ll just explain it here. I’m a csa survivor, and as such my asexuality and probably my aromanticism likely stem from that trauma. I have absolutely no desire to engage with people romantically or sexually. However, after I came to accept that I was able to look at my feelings towards things like media completely unclouded. I personally am a man who loves men, I know this because of how I feel about men who reasonably have no chance of getting with me or wanting to get with me. and quite frankly I doubt I ever would have been able to really pick that out without first learning about asexuality. I personally turned out to be both ace and gay, but as it turns out finding a sexual identity that I’m comfortable with and using that comfort as a stabilizer so I can then examine my identity with more confidence and understanding than I had before I’d taken this identity really helps that whole “figuring yourself out” thing. And that’s just it. people don’t pick labels that ultimately end up being wrong because they’re running away from their feelings (at least not on purpose), it’s that they don’t understand them. But picking a new label at all is proof that they’re questioning themselves, that they’re trying to pick it out. And lets say some hypothetical gay is using ace as a shield just because they aren’t ready yet. So what? Who are you to tell someone who’s clearly not ready to move forward that they’re wrong for not being ready? That they’re wrong for trying to figure themselves out and that you know better? I identified as nonbinary once, I told someone about this and how I felt happy presenting masculinely so they took that opportunity to tell me that they were going to assume that I was a man because they know better about it than I would. And obviously they were technically right but I was massively put off at the time. I was uncomfortable and no longer felt that I was safe questioning myself in that environment. Punishing people for questioning themselves doesn’t push them closer to finding the answer, it only stunts their growth as people. Like lets just assume that aces are all just closeted gays for a second here, they aren’t but lets do it anyways. What exactly do you or they stand to gain by you telling them to their faces that they don’t belong in the lgbt+ community because they’re clearly evil? Pushing away aces as a whole pushes them away and no amount of “but gay aces are fine !” is going to change how othering that feels. best case scenario you’ve now made a gay who inherently mistrusts their community because of how they treated them before, and if the worst case scenario isn’t actively playing a role in a queer youth committing suicide because they feel they have no place left in society as a whole then it’s at least going to push someone further into the closet than they were before if you dearly and truly care about these strawmen queer kids who are just ace because of how much internalized homophobia they have then you’d recognize that they have autonomy and need time to figure themselves out and that they need room to grow. ace, gay, or otherwise, questioning yourself is healthy. and the fact is if I hadn’t figured that I was ace first I wouldn’t have also realized that I was gay and trans. but w/e this is rambly and was made on a whim with absolutely no proofreading whatsoever, but hey I’m just posting a controversial opinion on the internet so what could possibly go wrong