#but now as an adult i am more secure in my aromanticism

[yardsards]

i know it's 2023 and very few people are still into the carmilla webseries and even fewer are interested in it outside of shipping hollstein but. i just gotta say. lafontaine reads as so aromantic to me and i ship them and perry queerplatonically SO HARD

[quietnqueer]

Why identifying as aromantic is important to me (as a 36-year-old woman)

Submission to the October 2020 Carnival of Aros on the theme of ‘Prioritization’. 

I identify as aromantic asexual (aro/ace). Both parts of that identity are important to me, but the aro one particularly so. Why? Because at 36 years old, society’s amatonormativity has more of an effect on me than its allonormativity.

In your teens and twenties, sex is a huge deal. There’s a lot of pressure to have sex and to be sexually desirable. But by the time you reach your mid-30s, this eases off. Your allosexual peers’ obsession with sex starts to wane, and you find less conversations about it taking place in your everyday life. In fact, if I were to admit to a 30/40/50-something allosexual person that I’m just not that interested in sex, I reckon there’s a good chance I’d receive a nod of recognition.

However, if I were to say that I’m not interested in having a relationship? That I intend to be ‘forever alone’? Well, that would raise eyebrows.  For in amatonormative society, partnering up and settling down with someone, in the form of a mutually exclusive, ‘romantic’ relationship, is deemed inevitable; essential; the natural order of things. As you get older, society can (just about) countenance you not wanting sex. But it can’t comprehend you wanting to remain single.

  When younger, aro people can get away with saying things like, ‘oh, I’m not looking for a relationship’, or, ‘I’m not interested in getting married’, in response to those seemingly innocuous, everyday questions we all get asked such as, ‘have you got a partner?’ and ‘are you married?’ Why? Because people assume that’s just your age talking, not your orientation. However, as you get closer to 40, being asked these kinds of questions can fill aro people with trepidation. How to explain that you’re just not that way inclined, when the overriding message from society is that you should be?

I remember a work lunch a few years ago, at which the conversation amongst my colleagues turned to talk about their husbands; how they met them; how they popped the question. Obviously, I had nothing to share on this topic, but that was okay; in my colleagues’ eyes, I was still young, with plenty of time to find My Man. I do wonder though, had I stayed in that job, how my colleagues’ attitudes towards me might have changed as the years went by and I continued to stay single. How would they have accounted for my singleness? With open-mindedness or prejudice?

For this is another issue aro people face as they get older. As the years go by, you become more conscious of what your family and any long-standing friends/co-workers might be making of your perma-singleness. Do they think me socially inept? Emotionally under-developed? Frigid? Pitiful? Just… not normal? Such is the stronghold amatonormativity has over our lives, that to lead a single life leaves you open to being perceived in all sorts of narrow-minded and unkind ways.

  This is why claiming an aromantic identity is so important to me at this stage of my life. Whilst I’m still not really ‘out’ as aro, just coming out to myself has made all the difference. Now I know who/what I am, people can make whatever assumptions they like about me; that I’m a socially inept loner, whatever; it doesn’t matter. Knowing I’m aro, I feel the sting of the prejudicial attitudes our hetero/amatonormative society has towards single women a lot less, and am a lot more secure in myself.

  Knowing I’m aro also helps when it comes to just being able to deal with everyday adult conversation; so much of which is centred around people’s dating lives, their married lives, their coupled-up nuclear family lives.  For alloromantics – i.e. the majority of people – their ‘romantic’ relationship, and the family they create around that, is the very foundation of their lives. So, of course this ends up being the subject of a lot of everyday chit-chat, whether at the family dinner table or round the office water cooler. But for those of us who are aro/arospec, these most ‘normal’ and mundane of conversations can be awkward at best and alienating at worst.

My aro identity provides a much-needed bulwark against this. Before I discovered aromanticism, when I found myself in conversations about marriage and dating and settling down, I would often end up feeling insecure and embarrassed because my lack of relationship experience meant I had no similar anecdotes or stories to share. And even though I knew I didn’t actually want a relationship, and felt on some innate level that I was destined to stay single, this didn’t stop me from wondering whether the fact I’d made it all the way to 30 without ever having been in a relationship, or gone a date, meant there was something wrong with me.  If I hadn’t discovered aromanticism, I can imagine these feelings of shame and embarrassment would only have intensified as I got older.

But now I know I am aromantic, I understand my non-existent relationship history to be a sign of my aromanticism, rather than of there being something ‘wrong’ with me, whether socially, emotionally, or physiologically. Again, this doesn’t mean I’m at the stage where I feel comfortable being all ‘I’m aro!’ when talking to people. But it does mean I can hold my head a bit higher when I find myself caught up in conversations in which everyone’s going on about their love lives.

  As I get older, it’s my aromanticism that makes me feel queer in the world. My peers, siblings and cousins are coupling up and settling down, and here I remain, steadfastly single. As a result, I become more conscious of how my lack of romantic attraction sets me apart from others more than my lack of sexual attraction. No one’s quizzing me on the details of my sex life, or asking me who I ‘fancy’, anymore. But people do enquire about my relationship status. And people are likely to make all sorts of not-very-nice assumptions about that 30/40/50-something woman in their midst who continues to stay single. This is why, now I’m in my mid-30s, I have more of a need to give a name to, and to understand, my lack of interest in romantic relationships, than I do my lack of interest in sex. Claiming an aromantic identity helps me to navigate the amatonormativity which is all-pervasive in everyday adult life; and to navigate it with pride.

[thoughtsdying]

Being aroace is coming out to your mother in front of her friends in the midst of a discussion about what being asexual or arromantic even means, because while you were trying to correct the assumptions made (basically asexuality is no libido ever and aromanticism sounds very suspicious and like asexual people are aro anyway, they don’t want relationships which like, what the basic uneducated allo thinks) giving away only that you’ve read on it an “us” slipped in and then everyone is like looking at you and you say

“well yes i’m asexual, so i know what i’m talking about”

and your mother is like “since when, i know you have like a working libido” (thanks mom thats more i ever wanted to know about you aknowloeging the fact i masturbate).

and you go like “from a year ago more or less”

and also she says “why didn’t you tell me? i fear you’re saying that because you feel disconnected from other people you need to trust more not evade yourself from reality”

and then someone, all the someones else are “oh, but if you have a libido you’re repressing, that’s celibacy” “really, no attraction at all? and what if you see someone cute?”

and you go “asexuality is lack of attraction not of sexual desire. and i think they aesthetically cute and move on with my life? there’s no need or impulse for something more?”

and they “but what if you’re like. attracted intelectually? sapiosexuality is a thing right”

and then you go again “then i want to talk and be friends? that doesn’t have anything to do with sexuality for most people?”

and you freak out and walk out almost crying after another round of the same, from your mother. and she walks away towards you. and well maybe your mother now thinks you’re an even bigger weirdo with attachement issues, but she respects the label bc celibacy and abstinenece and nirvana i guess, as she would respect if i were to be a monk or something (which. no. that’s not the thing. that’s not what it means mom why do you think that?)

and she goes “but really did you have to react so badly when everyone started asking questions and go out so dramatically? why are you so sad, aren’t gay or trans kids proud of coming out bc they’re secure on their identities?”

well mom. i’m pretty sure most were lowkey terrified and cried even if only of relief or something, but being asexual has just gotten me being condescended to by you bc you think is an option i’ll grow out off once i pass my twenties, and also maybe the fact of impulsively coming out in front of a lot of well-meannig clueless people asking lots of questions about why asexuality/aromanticism made no sense to them including you, felt invalidating to me, right?

i’m sure it had nothing to do with why i never told you although the word was on my radar since my mid teens-

maybe i can be irrationaly emotional about something that’s so personal being dissected in front of others when you’re also since i was a teen being worried about me being more “social, normal, assertive” and just before going to that lunch you told your early twenties daughter who has more than once broken down crying bc she doesn’t understand how to connect with people to act less autistic out of nowhere (i really am not on the spectrum i felt, but maybe on the adhd one) and quit with the serious face and the headphones and the avoidance.

maybe i came only partially came out, not that it matters to you when you already think asexuality is not wanting to ever be in a relationship, ever, so, the same of aromanticism, and i didn’t even try to explain more, bc i don’t want to be dissected by you and told “oh, you’re just an snowflake and the fact you cried on me means you’re unhappy with the label not like all those other out lgbt teens young adults i know, so like you just need to go to the psychologist like you were trying to do just after the pandemic and before, see if you have issues with the adhd or the inteligence or somehting”

thanks a lot mom.

[eeee-lye]

It occurs to me that the entire plot of The Big Bang Theory is ... four neurodiverse or neurodiverse-coded (often poorly, for an NT audience’s amusement) young cishet men with homes, jobs, a decent enough income to nerd freely and a reasonably tight friendship circle who are lacking something more important ... a woman as love interest.

It’s heteronormativity, in that it’s expected that a woman is the last thing these cis men want and need. It’s also amatonormativity, in that having a home, job, income, interests and friends are never once treated as enough by the narrative, to the extent that we’re subjected to umpteen episodes with all the characters but Sheldon moaning about how they can’t get a girl as a romantic or sexual partner. This is followed by umpteen episodes all about the characters making room in their lives for a romantic partner and, totally not coincidentally, becoming less neurodiverse-coded as they shift to lives focused more on amatonormative, heteronormative relationships.

As an ND aro-ace, this is a heartbreaking message, and it’s one backed up by the vast majority of narratives offered to me.

A home, a job, an income, ability to nerd freely and a group of equally-nerdy neurodiverse friends? That’s the dream for me, right there. That’s all I want, as an aro-ace autistic who doesn’t want or need a romantic and/or sexual partner. The precious thing that the characters of The Big Bang Theory open the narrative already possessing? That’s my end-goal, someday. It’s treated by the narrative, though, as though it is easy to get, childish, unimportant. Yet my history, my truth, is that those things are incredibly hard for me to get!

(It actually shows how little the writers of The Big Bang Theory actually understand the neurodiverse coding they write into their characters, because they do not understand that, actually, many neurodiverse people struggle to make, have and keep those kinds of platonic and familial relationships. Some of us don’t even want them.)

Every time I turn around, as an aro-ace person, there’s a new message that found family and platonic relationships are not enough for me to star in a story. Every time I turn around, as a neurodiverse aro-ace, there’s a message that the things I am struggling to achieve are easy and normal to get--so easy that even the ND-coded characters of The Big Bang Theory can manage it! It leaves me feeling that not only am I not able to become an adult (through the having romantic and sexual relationships with others) I am not even able to reach the “child” entry position from which these sorts of narratives begin. The combination of my lack of interest in romantic and sexual relationships (via the lack of attraction) and my neurodiversity leaves me feeling as though I am nothing.

Twice over, I am a child--in fact, I am less than one.

I don’t exist. In a world where sexual and romantic relationships, or even just the wanting of them, grant one a degree of recognition by narrative as someone trying to be adult and hence worthy, I don’t exist. I don’t even exist as a child with the second-best of close platonic housemates and relationships; I don’t exist in any kind of way that grants me positivity and agency as an adult. I just don’t exist--save as a warning message for how people are not supposed to be.

Narrative tells me the steps I need to take to be a human that matters in story, and the truth is that I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to make it up to the starting line. But, since I can’t make it past the starting line, that doesn’t even matter.

It absolutely breaks my heart to be continually confronted with my own worthlessness, and yet I can’t escape it. It’s there, always, in all the stories that surround me. I am not an protagonist with agency. I am not the kind of adult who matters.

This is why I need stories about being aro-ace and neurodiverse. This is why it is a slap to the face to hear people say that aro-aces get all the autistic narratives, even though those narratives largely end up being about characters like Sheldon Cooper, finding adulthood through amatonormative romance narratives. Or characters who are never treated as proper adults because they lack these things! This is why we need to look at what it means that we define adulthood and agency via sexual and romantic relationships--and, in fact, actually how we define adulthood and agency and worth at all. This is why we need stories about neurodiverse characters who are aro-ace, whether they want platonic relationships or not, and we need them to treat us as though we are intrinsically adult and valuable, as though we are worthwhile protagonists no matter our relationship or or neurodiverse status.

(I’m not saying that sexual and romance narratives aren’t needed for autistic characters. They are. But asexual and/or aromantic narratives for autistic characters who are not treated as children for both their autism and their asexuality and/or aromanticism are also needed!)

I need stories that tell me I am an adult, that I am worthy and valid and important and deserving of the hero narrative, right now. As I am right now. Without romantic and sexual relationships, without the close-knit friend circle and secure job, writing as a person who had to move back in with my parents because I actually am just that disabled--writing as a person who considers talking to someone else online via text a massive accomplishment because I am terrible at being social.

I need people to question how it is romantic and sexual relationships function in the stories that matter, and I need people especially to examine this when it comes to how these things indicate worthiness and adulthood--especially when your character is neurodiverse, when neurodiversity itself is already treated as something that makes us less adult.

I’ll never fall in romantic love. I doubt I’ll have another sexual partner. I don’t even know if I’ll ever get to a point where I’ll have a QPR or best friend as housemate.

But none of that, none of it, makes me any less deserving of being a hero in a story written by someone else. None of it makes me less adult. None of it means that I lack agency--save for my having to operate in an ableist world that routinely tries to deny it.

So please, please--let’s start celebrating stories that don���t put sexual and/or romantic relationships front and centre. Let’s start celebrating stories that don’t require sex and/or romance as a shorthand for indicating a character’s adulthood.

And, speaking as someone who is disabled, neurodiverse and aro-ace--give me well-written disabled and/or neurodiverse aro-ace characters in stories without sexual and romantic relationships. Give me characters who are never treated as a child for any of those identities, or characters who are by others in a narrative that points out everything that is wrong with this trope because yes, we do deserve better.

Give me characters that tell me, right now, I am adult.

Because the truth, so often, is that I don’t feel like I am, and I yearn to pick up a book and find the validation others take for granted.

[sage-nebula]

♡ and ♒ for Sycamore, ☆ and ☮ for Alain, ■ for Manon, and ♥ for Meyer!

Sycamore—

♡ Romantic Headcanon: 

Sycamore is, and always has been, absolutely a romantic at heart. He acknowledges, when he thinks of it, that this might seem like something of a cliché; one of Kalos’ primary stereotypes is that it’s the most romantic and lovey-dovey regions, and while that isn’t as true as some other regions of the world would like to believe (Kanto in particular tend to take romanticization too far when it comes to Kalos), he also knows that he’s not exactly helping matters (if they can be helped) by being such a hopeless romantic himself. However, he has long since come to terms with himself and has accepted that, well, he is a romantic. He’s not so much a romantic in the “love forever at first sight” kind of way, but more so in the sense that he loves candlelit dinners, walks on the beach at sunset, heartfelt conversations while cuddling in bed, bouquets specially crafted for an individual, homemade chocolates and candies—things like that. (Not that he can actually make chocolates, mind you, but he really likes the idea. Funnily enough, this is a tradition that actually originated in Johto, so for all that Kantoneans might look at Kalos as being the region of love and romance, Sycamore thinks perhaps they should look next door a little more often.) He also does believe in true love, in a sense. Again, it’s not so much that he believes in love at first sight, or even so much that someone can have only one true love in their lifetime. More like, Sycamore believes that true love can be found, and can be developed, and two people can love each other for the rest of their natural lives … but that this relationship, like all relationships, does need equal input from both parties and isn’t something that can just exist without some effort being put in. True love exists, but effortless true love does not, if that makes sense. And this doesn’t make the notion any less romantic to Sycamore. If anything, it makes it more romantic in his eyes, because the idea that two people could come together to equally work on the love shared between them is, in his eyes, one of the most beautiful concepts of all.

All of this said, Sycamore has only ever had romantic / sexual attraction to men. And specifically, he has a type, and that type tends to be broad shouldered and muscular, more often than not with facial hair of some kind, and often some body hair, too. That’s his type sexually, anyway; romantically he’s attracted to bravery, loyalty, sincerity, fun-loving and exciting individuals, with a bonus (night requirement, really, after he unofficially adopts Alan) of being family-oriented (or at the very least tolerant of children, because honestly, if you can’t accept his kid you’re going to have to get out of his life, no exceptions). These are just some base traits of what he looks for in a partner, but it’s enough to give you a general gist. ;)

All of that said, it should be noted that as much as he is a hopeless romantic at heart, this doesn’t mean that Sycamore sees romance as being all-important, or the end-all, be-all of relationships. Far from it, in fact. He’s the one who introduces a rather concerned, anxious Alan to what aromanticism and asexuality are, talks him through the concepts and helps him realize that this is perfectly fine and normal, and that he’s fine (more than, really—he’s marvelous) just the way he is. Sycamore’s a romantic, but there are so many different types of love out there and he’s open and inclusive to all of them, not a worry about that. (In other words, he adores his aroace son. Again, if you can’t accept his kid, get out of his life.)

♒ Cooking / Food Headcanon:

Sycamore’s cooking ability is … rather all over the place.

To be entirely honest, he didn’t do much in the way of cooking at all prior to unofficially adopting Alan. In childhood, prior to setting out on his journey, his parents did all the cooking for him (as is to be expected, given that he was a child). After setting out on his journey, he mostly carried non-perishable food goods and snacks (like, a half of a loaf of bread, a jar of peanut butter, and a jar of jam, for instance) with him that he could slap together while on the road / in the event he didn’t make it to a town with a restaurant. After abandoning his journey to return to school (and then university) it still wasn’t a problem because the schools had cafeterias / on-campus eateries that he could partake in. So even though his university roommate, Fulbert, told him time and again that he should learn how to cook real food, because one day he was going to actually have to be (gasp!) an adult and fend for himself, and when that day came he wouldn’t have a cafeteria to cook for him, Sycamore usually waved that commentary off (or used one hand to mime a talking mouth) while eating cereal out of a baseball helmet. (You may remember Fulbert bringing that one up during the fight he had with Sycamore over whether or not Sycamore was right to take / should keep Alan. If you ask Fulbert, it is one of the most outrageous things Sycamore ever did during their time as roommates, “… and that’s saying something.”)

After university, when he lived on his own, he realized that, to a degree, Fulbert had been right. (Note: He never told Fulbert this, and never would.) However, he still didn’t really learn to cook. He had cereal, and could make sandwiches, and sometimes when he was feeling very fancy he’d get one of those frozen dinners to toss in a skillet or in the oven to cook. Sometimes they had vegetables and everything. Amazing. However, after unofficially adopting Alan, Sycamore quickly came to the realization that things like eating cake for breakfast, or cereal for all three meals, isn’t exactly a good diet for a five-year-old child—and that, if he’s going to have this five-year-old child that is living with him eat nutritious meals, he should probably make a concentrated effort to improve the standards of food around the house. So with that said, Sycamore got some recipes from his parents and started making dedicated efforts to learn how to cook. Some efforts were more successful than others. Sycamore is very good with various kinds of pasta dishes, as well as various soups. To his frustration, he can’t bake worth a damn for the most part, with the exception of cookies that he and Alan make every year for Festival de la Vie. (Thus, birthday cakes and the like are usually store-bought, but he still makes sure to get very good ones.) He started eating three square meals a day along with Alan, as well as little snacks throughout the day, and marveled at the fact that actually eating a healthier, more balanced diet really did give him more energy and made him feel better. Who knew. 

(A reminder: Sycamore had just turned twenty-five when he took Alan in—like, I think my current timeline has it about five days after his twenty-fifth birthday. So he was still in his mid-twenties when that happened, and it happened suddenly, so I think we can forgive him for being a bit of a mess, especially since—considering the lab and his status as a professor and everything—he was still far less of a mess than I am right now at age twenty-seven.)

Alan—

☆ Happy Headcanon:

One of Alan’s absolute favorite activities—something that is guaranteed to make him feel at peace, feel free, feel happy—is flying on Lizardon. The feeling is, to him, nigh indescribable; there’s the thrill that comes with swooping through the air, whether Lizardon is diving, or pulling a turn so sharp that he at first shoots straight up into the air, and then flips into a turn so smooth that for a moment Alan is actually parallel to the ground before Lizardon rolls in the air and rights them again. Lizardon likes to push his speed, to fly faster and stronger depending on the flight, and if he mega evolves during the flight then his endurance and speed is even greater. The thrill is definitely there, and Alan does love the thrill of it. He would be lying if he said he didn’t (and trust me, he isn’t a liar). Both of them love the thrill of it.

But it’s more than that, too. There’s something about the sky that makes him feel alive and free. He feels truly awake when they’re flying, and as such it’s often one of the very first things he does when he wakes up. The two of them go for a morning flight, not only so that Lizardon can stretch his wings, but because although Alan will still have some morning coffee when they get back, flying first thing wakes him up in a way few other things do. There’s something about the air in his lungs at that altitude, the wind through his hair, the sunlight (or moonlight) on his skin; breathing is easier in the sky, and the feeling of himself is something both more real and more … okay than in other circumstances. In the sky, nothing can touch them. They slow or stop for nothing and no one. It’s just the two of them, just Alan and Lizardon, in their own world. Whenever things get to be a bit too much on the ground, Alan knows that flying can make him feel better, even if that feeling is only temporarily. He can enjoy it, for that moment. It’s bliss incarnate. 

Aside from flying, he also loves battling—and, specifically, he loves battling opponents that are truly on his level. This is not, as some might believe, because he has a thirst for combat, or for dominating opponents. While he does want to be the strongest, he wants that strength to protect others, and defeating increasingly strong opponents is a part of this only because it gives him the knowledge (and with knowledge comes a feeling of security to ease his anxieties) that he and Lizardon have the strength necessary to protect those they love / the world. (And also each other, but we all know how much Alan thinks about protecting himself. It’s okay, though; Alan’s safety is at least a concern to Lizardon.) So the reason why battling brings Alan joy isn’t about that particular goal of his, nor is it about anything ridiculous like blood lust. On the contrary, Alan finds joy in battling because it’s something that he and Lizardon do together, that they work toward together. Battles aren’t just about the pokémon engaging in combat against each other, nor are they about the trainer shouting commands. They’re not about trophies, medals, or accolades. Instead, they’re about the bond between the human and the pokémon; they’re about the two of them working in tandem, working in sync, accomplishing the same goal together, walking the same path together. Training is a part of this, absolutely (and he loves training with Lizardon, too), but when they’re battling an opponent on their level, Alan’s entire mind focuses on the battle, and on Lizardon, and on what the two of them are accomplishing together. When he wins and feels that rush of euphoria, it’s not just because he won, but rather because they won, together.

And in that, you might notice a theme between these two activities: Alan is happiest when he is with Lizardon, and specifically, when they are doing something that lets them fall into sync, where although they are two individuals, it’s really the two of them … as one. Flying is like this, because even though Lizardon is the one actually flying, anyone who has ever, say, ridden horseback can tell you that the rider puts just as much physical exertion into that as the horse does. Horseback riders have some serious muscle definition, and the exact same thing is true for dragon riders. And with a battle that seriously engages both of them, the same is true; they are both wholly engaged, and we’ve seen multiple times in canon when they even mirror each other’s body language during battles, because that’s how in sync they are. This is particularly true for mega evolution; mega evolution is dependent on their bond, and they have not faced struggles with this because their bond is strong enough that, even when they are both tense and angry during a battle (such as when battling Lysandre in the Flare arc), far from risking Lizardon losing control, all it does is make them both stronger. But the point is, these activities—flying with Lizardon, battling alongside him … these are things Alan enjoys, absolutely and unreservedly. He’s at his most peaceful during a solitary flight with just the two of them, and his most enthusiastic and energetic in a fierce battle (against a good friend—enemies are a different story, but against a dear friend? Look no further than every match he ever has with Ash to see just how happy those battles make him).

Smaller things that make him happy include, but are not limited to: Coffee (and mochas), sweets of various kinds (especially dark chocolate), spending time with and meeting new pokémon, good music, engrossing and entertaining books (both non-fiction and fiction), various board games and some video games, select TV shows, really comfy clothes, positive attention / affection from Sycamore (not that this is hard to get, but he’s happy and grateful every time), really soft blankets and fabrics, and sunny, warm days.

☮ Friendship Headcanon:

Alan has always found it far easier to befriend pokémon than people.

Part of this, as you could guess, stems from the abuse and neglect he had for the first five years of his life, growing up in Isolé Village. While he was far from a feral child (he was, after all, raised by people and not pokémon), the adults in the village all disparaged and disliked him, viewing him as an unwanted burden, and the other children in the village picked up on that and saw him as a convenient target to either blame their own indiscretions on, or otherwise bully without any repercussions. For this reason, the first friend Alan ever had was Soot the houndour puppy, whom he unwittingly stole from its pack, which caused the houndour raid and destruction that resulted in Sycamore finding him in the mountains. Funny how these things work out.

Over the seven years he spent living at the lab (bridging the time from when Sycamore brought him home to when he left on his journey), he slowly opened up and developed some social skills, and became (as we see in the flashbacks) a much happier, brighter child. But he’s still a reserved person by nature, still has some shyness to him, and the truth is that while there are other children in Lumiose City that he could have befriended, potentially, Alan spent a lot of time at the lab, or kept to himself when he was out in the city (or else stuck by Sycamore’s side if they were out together). So he still spent most of his time around Sycamore, any other adults that Sycamore had by the lab (Sophie if she was working, Fulbert or Meyer if they were visiting, et cetera), and thus by the pokémon. I don’t think Alan consciously thinks this way, but subconsciously he finds pokémon more trustworthy than people. I mean, thinking back to Isolé Village, none of the pokémon he ever encountered hated him on principle or mistreated him. Pretty much every human he ever knew before meeting Sycamore did. Even if he doesn’t consciously think about it, that sort of thing sticks with a person, especially a small child. So he’s far more likely to open up to a new pokémon than he is a new person. It’s not uncharacteristic of him to initiate conversation with someone only so that he can ask if it’s all right if he pets their pokémon, particularly if it’s a new one he hasn’t encountered before.

ALL OF THAT SAID— Sycamore did, when he could, gently encourage Alan to interact with children around his age whenever the occasion arose. He never pushed—he fully respects that Alan is reserved, he understands precisely why this is (natural personality + experiences), he doesn’t want to force Alan to do anything that makes him uncomfortable. But like, that summer camp is an annual thing, right? So I imagine that Alan must have attended, though most years he just helped out, because he was the Professor’s assistant, after all, it’s his job to help run it. But one year Louie (yeah, that Louie) decided to single him out as a Rival™, and Alan took the bait (tl;dr: Louie suggested that maybe he could be an assistant for Sycamore too, Alan coolly said they weren’t hiring, Louie said “then I’ll just show him how smart and impressive and great I am and take your job” and at that point the gauntlet was thrown, and more specifically, thrown by Alan), so he ended up asking Sycamore if he could participate this time. Sycamore was very excited because yes, yes, Alan wanted to go play with the other children, he wanted to make some friends!!, all the while not realizing that, no, Alan and Lizardon just wanted to beat the shit out of Louie and Garchoo. Whoops. (Well, not Louie specifically, but his pride got pretty badly wounded. He remembers this for all those years to come, while Alan pretty much forgets Louie exists after the summer camp. Whoops.) But that rivalry aside, for the scavenger hunt portion Alan is partnered up with Ayaka (yes, that Ayaka) and, depending on how I want to swing this, potentially anime-verse!Emma. The three of them make a pretty good team (Team Vowel, since all three of their names start with vowel sounds), and so there’s a light friendship there.

(I’ve also considered a situation where, possibly, Emma could be an on-again, off-again childhood friend—like maybe they run into each other around Lumiose City a lot in various different circumstances, and Emma calls him “books-for-brains” and teases him for staying in studying all the time, and Alan surprises her by showing her that he’s just as capable of scaling buildings and running across rooftops as she is, that sort of thing. Maybe they go years without talking, and then even as the police try every trick they can think of to pin some charge on him for the Flare nonsense (fighting tooth and nail against Diantha all the while), the Looker Bureau—and specifically, Emma—steps up to say nope, nu-uh, no way, that’s bogus, we did our own investigation and you’ve got nothin’, and also you’re violating a couple laws here so you might wanna stop. But I don’t know, that’s all up in the air, it’s just something I’ve considered before.)

In general, when it comes to human friendships, Alan gravitates toward people who are a.) great with pokémon, and b.) are not pushy, and therefore c.) respect his boundaries and the fact that he’s very introverted, still reserved even as he grows, and needs his space at times. Pretentious attitudes and arrogance are extremely off-putting to him, as are bullies, people who are almost constantly loud and hyperactive (it’s one thing to get excited sometimes, but it’s another to be Extra™ all the damn time—that is exhausting for an introvert like Alan), and of course people who are cruel to or mistreat pokémon. (That’s not even a “we can’t be friends” thing for him. That’s an instant “we are enemies” thing for him. No excuses.) 

Manon—

■Bedroom/house/living quarters headcanon :

Manon grew up in a boarding house, which is run by her aunt. For those who are unfamiliar, a boarding house is sort of like a dorm for adults; it’s a house that is filled with bedrooms that tenants can rent for short or extended stays (sometimes up to years), and has common areas such as a living room, dining room, bathrooms, et cetera. If you’ve ever seen the cartoon Hey Arnold!, Arnold lives in a boarding house. That’s where Manon grew up.

The boarding house itself is pretty old. It’s a building made of brick and has a very antiquated feel to it, and much of the furniture inside also seems to be several decades out of date, both due to Manon’s aunt’s taste in furniture, and also due to the fact that even with tenants money can still be scarce, particularly with the medical bills for Manon’s mother. (Manon’s mother is unwell; due to an accident that happened around the time of Manon’s birth that no one will tell her about, her mother’s physical health is frail and her mental health tends to be a bit unstable. She has her days of lucidity, when she’s perfectly aware of everything around her and remembers most things, but then she also has periods where she thinks that she’s several decades in the past, isn’t really aware of what’s going on around her, doesn’t recognize her daughter at all, et cetera. She’s still sweet and kind to Manon either way, so she’s never been abusive or anything, but she does need active care, and that’s what Manon’s aunt provides for her.) But despite being an old building the boarding house is still in good shape (as is the furniture inside), and is three stories tall. Manon’s room is on the top floor (because she likes to feel tall), and faces the street. She has a big window with a bench seat in it, and she often liked to sit on that and people / pokémon watch from the window. She would sketch pictures of the people she saw going by in her diary and make up stories about them. She still does this sometimes, even as an adult, albeit from outdoor seats at cafés instead of from her bedroom window.

Back to the point: Manon’s bedroom is actually one of the largest in the boarding house, second probably only to her aunt’s room and her mother’s room. She has the big window with the bench seat, as well as a four-poster bed with a sheer canopy, like a princess. She has an unfortunate shag carpet (which is light green), and a wallpaper border up against the ceiling that has rainbow imagery. She has a bookshelf against the wall across from her bed, but rather than books, every single shelf is stuffed with plushies instead. (She also has a lot of plushies on her bed. Like, a lot. She has a lot of plushies.) Her walls are dotted with various drawings, as well as some pictures she liked from magazines, usually of models or actresses she really liked for whatever reason. (Years later, as a teenager, she would come to realize what that reason was and have an, “OOHHHHHH” moment.) Her four-poster bed frame is white wood, and she has white wood dressers and nightstands as well. Her table lamp has a flowery lampshade.

Her bedroom aside, as mentioned, everything else in the boarding house was pretty old-fashioned. Shag carpets abound, rickety wooden stairs leading between each of the floors, a swinging door leading into the kitchen. Still, Manon spent plenty of time rampaging around the boarding house growing up (albeit she wasn’t always allowed in the tenants’ rooms—only with their permission, and how well she got on with them varied from tenant to tenant), so it’s still home to her even long after she’s grown, despite her complicated relationships with her mother and aunt. (Like, she loves them, but her mother is ill and her aunt is always tired and rather harried, plus can be rather stern, so particularly around the times she leaves to become a trainer, she’s not as close to them as she would like, and for example, didn’t think of them once during the Flare crisis until all was said and done. She felt really bad about that and resolved to make things better, and over the years both she and her aunt make a concentrated effort to have a closer relationship, and make a lot of progress as well. Her mother, for understandable reasons, finds it harder—but Manon still makes an effort to spend more time with her.) Additionally, Manon has always found it super cool that she grew up in a boarding house, because there are often very interesting tenants who sometimes told her cool stories of things they had experienced, and plus, how many kids could say they grew up in a boarding house? Hardly any, if any. But she could, and that’s cool. Even as an adult she doesn’t regret it. She still thinks it’s cool. Try and tell her it’s not and you’ll be wrong in her eyes, so there.

Meyer—

♥ Family Headcanon:

Family is very, very important to Meyer. He grew up in a family-oriented household; as the second oldest of four siblings, he naturally slipped into the role of helping look after his two younger siblings while also spending time with his older one, and loved spending time with both of his parents as well. His parents, in fact, would often arrange family vacations, board game nights, et cetera to try and spend more time with the kids whenever they were home. Various journeys made this difficult, but letters and phone calls were important. Meyer learned the importance of family quite early on.

So of course, this has transferred to how he treats his own family. When he and Teresa ended up divorcing, it was important to both of them that it be amicable. In fact, while they did attend some couple’s therapy to try and work things out and mediate, both were very attentive to the fact that it had gotten to a point where they just weren’t a good fit anymore, and decided to part ways while it still could be amicable, versus when things had gotten so toxic that they couldn’t even be friends anymore. As such? They still are friends, and this is very, very good with regards to Clemont and Bonnie (and it was really because of Clemont and Bonnie that Meyer and Teresa were so attentive to this; neither one wanted the kids to suffer). Bonnie, fortunately, was only around three at the time, so honestly she was too little to really recognize that her parents were divorcing and that Meyer had moved out. Clemont, on the other hand, was about six, so he was more aware of it and it didn’t make him happy. He understood enough to know that Meyer had moved out, that Meyer and Teresa weren’t going to be married anymore, and from his perspective he took it to mean that Meyer didn’t want to be with them as a family anymore, that he wanted to leave and go do other things because he didn’t love them as much. Meyer assured him this was not the case, as did Teresa, but Clemont was still hurt and standoffish for a while. Meyer gave him space to come to terms with his feelings, and once Clemont realized that Meyer still loved them (and that Meyer and Teresa were still on good terms, both wanted this, et cetera), he came around and was able to have a good relationship with Meyer again. (Meyer, of course, was very grateful, because trust me, that wasn’t easy for Meyer, either.)

In later years, Meyer marries Sycamore and gains a husband, and in so doing he also gains a stepson, Alan. Meyer had actually known Alan for years prior to this point; Sycamore and Meyer were friends back when Sycamore first brought Alan home, and so in a way Meyer has seen Alan grow up, albeit in that sort of neighborly, family friend kind of way prior to the romance blossoming between Sycamore and Meyer. (So, a much spottier version than what Sycamore bore witness to, but nonetheless.) He already had some familiarity with Alan therefore, knew he was a good kid, and that helped him have faith in Alan after the Flare crisis was all said and done. (Like, he didn’t even have a moment of doubt. Sycamore had some trepidation about what Meyer might think at first, and was quite relieved to see that there wasn’t a doubt in Meyer’s mind that Alan was a good—albeit hurting, at the moment—kid.) Teresa has some trepidation about Alan spending time around Clemont and Bonnie—she doesn’t think he’s a bad person, per se, nor does she think that he’s a criminal or intentionally dangerous or anything like that, but she just worries that an accident could happen, you know, she’s just uncertain—but Meyer assures her that Alan is good and that he’ll be careful with Clemont and Bonnie, and she trusts Meyer, so she trusts Alan, too. Even before Alan is his stepson, Meyer takes care to make sure that no one within earshot has misconceptions about him.

(And specifically, the situation with Teresa happens when Meyer goes to pick up Clemont and Bonnie for a visitation weekend, and Bonnie cheerfully says she called Alan to come pick her up, and there’s a moment of surprise before Alan gets there because, well, he had some free time, and Bonnie called him to ask him if he could fly her back on Lizardon, so he agreed. And he’s able to take her with him, but that’s when Teresa and Meyer have a talk because Teresa has trepidation about Bonnie just flying off on a charizard like that, even with the charizard’s trainer right there, because accidents could happen and, well, the Flare crisis was a pretty big accident—but again, things get smoothed over. Clemont chimes in and helps some, too. He knows Alan is a good guy. Teresa doesn’t need to be worried; Bonnie’s safe with Alan.)

Meyer really makes an effort to reach out to Alan, because it’s important to him that Alan knows that he is a welcome part of this family. (He is, as a fic that I’m planning to post on Father’s Day will show, the one who finally clues Sycamore into the fact that he needs to talk to Alan about adoption and, more importantly, actually officially adopt the boy already—in the prime timeline, at least, Meyer is the one who does that.) He doesn’t want Alan to feel left out, or like he can’t be there, and the two of them do get along pretty well. Sycamore, of course, is delighted by this. (Because again, looking above, accepting Alan is a requirement for serious romantic relationships. Ex-boyfriend Lionel learned this the hard way.)

So yes, Meyer is quite family oriented. He cares a lot about the kids and also his husband. And it doesn’t matter that Alan is technically his stepson (or even that Alan isn’t even his stepson yet in, say, To Devour the Sun), because he loves him just the same. Again, he’s part of the family, and once Meyer and Sycamore are married he’s one of the kids. That he’s Meyer’s son by marriage doesn’t matter. Still counts just the same.