Writing Asexual and Aromantic Characters

Aromanticism is defined as the lack of romantic attraction to other people. Similarly, asexuality is defined as the lack of sexual attraction to other people. These two identities are widely misunderstood and vastly under-respresented in popular media, and hopefully, that will be remedied. That said, here’s a short guide on what to do and what not to do when writing a-spec (a-spectrum) characters.

DO:

DON’T:

PS: If you aren’t a-spec, please let a friend who is a-spec read over your story to make sure that you haven’t accidentally written anything insensitive or harmful.

This past year they had been all around the world, seen so many amazing places, but when he looked into her eyes, he saw home.

It was suiting, really, that her name meant universe. Such vast space with so many beautiful things and so many more yet to be discovered. One could find themselves lonely in so much space. But when it came to Emma, his Emma, his entire universe, his life, when you knew your place, there would never be a better home.

Because when it came to Emma and her light, her fire, her faith and love, one was never truly lost.

@vanillalipstick66

Send me a pairing and the opening sentence of a fic and I’ll write the next five sentences.

How to Write Non-binary Characters: a three part guide.

Disclaimer: While this guide is written by a non-binary person in collaboration with many other non-binary writers and readers, it does not necessarily cover the views of all people within the non-binary community.

PART ONE: the basics.

First off, what is this thing you call non-binary?

Non-binary genders are any gender identity that isn’t covered in the Western idea of woman (girl) and man (boy). This identity has nothing to do with which chromosomes or sexual organs a person has. Some non-binary people also identify as being trans (which is technically an umbrella term containing non-binary), while others only identify as being non-binary. Some commonly use the slang term enbie (which comes from the pronunciation of the initials for non-binary, aka N.B.) while others don’t. Some break down their gender further than simply non-binary, while others choose not to.

Some terms for common non-binary genders:

Agender: having no gender.

Bigender: having both binary genders, or aspects of two different genders, usually simultaneously. (Much like the bi in bisexual, non-binary people may also claim this term if they have any number of genders, especially if they can’t quite tell where one ends and the other begins, or they may claim the term pangender instead.)

Demi-(boy/girl/man/woman): being partially (but not wholly) binary.

Gender-fluid: transitioning between genders, which may include both binary and non-binary genders.

Gender-queer (or just queer): not of a binary gender. May be used when someone does not feel that any other terms fit them quite right, when they’re still trying to determine their gender and don’t yet wish to choose a term, or simply because the person finds it to fit them best.

There are also genders similar to what Western cultures call non-binary in many non-Western cultures, which are wonderfully diverse and all incerdibly valid, but as someone from an exclusively Western cultural heratage, I don’t feel I have the right or the knoweldge to talk about them.

So then, who are these non-binary people in real life?

The only thing that differentiates a non-binary person from a binary person is that they don’t identify as having a binary gender.

Their non-binary-ness could influence their lives in an infinite number of ways:

Each non-binary person (and character) is unique, and their non-binary-ness is just one tiny part of who they are.

The basic do’s and don’ts for writing non-binary characters respectfully if you’re a binary person…

Afficher davantage

Is anyone else ever annoyed over the stupid “(insert character name here)sexual”?

Like stop. You are erasing various sexualities. You erase the idea of bisexuality. You erase the idea of demisexuality. You erase the idea of gray-asexuality. You erase the idea of pansexuality.

It also erases the fact that sexual and romantic attraction are different and it’s okay to have different orientations for both. It’s okay to be biromantic and asexual. It’s okay to be demiromantic and pansexual. It’s okay to have weird combos. The “(insert character name here)sexual” erases these.

And it’s not fucking okay.

It’s frustrating and upsetting. You wanna make your character have a sexuality crisis? Have them do some damn research. Ask other people. Do something so they can learn about themselves and learn it’s okay to be something other than just gay or straight.

I’m honestly so sick of this trope. It makes me feel bad. It makes me feel like I don’t exist. I’m demisexual. I’m demiromantic. I’m biromantic. I am not invisible.

Stop this stupid trope, you are invalidating real things and experiences and what people actually go through.

It’s even more annoying when smart ass characters say this shit, you really think they wouldn’t know about this or want to do some damn research?

As an asexual who spends his time getting erased a fair bit, I gotta ageee wirh you. Cheers for saying it, gods know I wouldn’t.

Writing Asexuality in Fiction - Masterpost

I’ve finally built up a nice series of essays on writing asexuality and asexual characters in fiction. Here they are, all together in one place. They’re intended to be useful for asexual and non-asexual writers alike. They are also meant to be inclusive of gray-asexual and demisexual characters, although my knowledge is limited there.

These essays assume you already have a basic knowledge of what asexuality means: a general lack of sexual attraction to other people. This is not Asexuality 101; for that, check out the links on my resources page.

Other potentially relevant topics

This post may be updated in the future as I write more stuff on this subject; I’ll link to it from my blog’s homepage so it’s easy to find.

Writing Asexuality in Fiction - Masterpost

I’ve finally built up a nice series of essays on writing asexuality and asexual characters in fiction. Here they are, all together in one place. They’re intended to be useful for asexual and non-asexual writers alike. They are also meant to be inclusive of gray-asexual and demisexual characters, although my knowledge is limited there.

These essays assume you already have a basic knowledge of what asexuality means: a general lack of sexual attraction to other people. This is not Asexuality 101; for that, check out the links on my resources page.

Other potentially relevant topics

This post may be updated in the future as I write more stuff on this subject; I’ll link to it from my blog’s homepage so it’s easy to find.

You know, I’ve tried writing material where the number of bisexual and gay characters present matches up with real-world demographics, but even that’s apparently enough to get folks passive-aggressively going “wow, is anyone in this setting straight?”, so basically my answer from now on is “no, not a single person in this setting is straight”.

When a room has 30% women in it, men think it’s 50-50. When it is 50-50, they think they’re outnumbered. Just one of the fascinating statistics on how people perceive gender balance, says Laura Bates.

…When a story has 5-10% not-straight people in it, a lot of straight people think “the gays are taking over.”

Writing Demisexual Characters (Without Invalidating Asexuality)

Demisexuality is an asexual-spectrum orientation that is often overlooked when people try to write asexual characters, which is a shame, because a lot of bad asexual stories could become good demisexual stories if the authors were better informed. So I’m here to inform you.

For the purposes of this essay, I will assume you’re writing a mixed demisexual+allosexual romantic relationship, because A) the vast majority of stories containing demisexuality or asexuality in romantic relationships have one of the partners as allosexual, and B) mixed relationship stories are prone to unfortunate implications about asexuality and demisexuality. I’ve never actually found a demisexual+demisexual, asexual+asexual or asexual+demisexual romantic pairing in fiction. I’d love to see it written, though.

Also: This essay focuses on romantic demisexual characters. However, aromantic demisexual people exist, too. They may engage in close platonic or queerplatonic relationships, or they may choose to be single or adopt some other lifestyle. Much of this essay can be applied to platonic and queerplatonic relationships as well as to romantic ones.

Asexuality and demisexuality are alike in that, the vast majority of the time, neither experiences sexual attraction to other people. The two orientations have a lot of experiences and issues in common, to the point that it’s not unusual for someone to initially identify as one and later realize they’re the other. When it comes to people that we don’t know well, demisexual and asexual people act and feel pretty much the same way - no sexual attraction is present at all.

But unlike asexuals, demisexual people have the potential to feel sexual attraction to someone if they have established an emotional connection to them. The strength of connection required varies depending on the demisexual person in question - anywhere from “I know you pretty well” to “We’ve been dating for years.” Even if the bond is established, it’s no guarantee that sexual attraction will happen, and sometimes demisexual people carry on happy relationships without ever becoming sexually attracted to the person they love.

Some demisexual people find it useful to explain their sexuality in terms of the primary/secondary model of attraction. Primary attraction is attraction that occurs upon first meeting someone, while secondary attraction only develops after getting to know someone better. In this model, most allosexual people feel both forms of attraction, demisexual people only feel secondary attraction, and asexual people feel neither.

In my posts on asexual stereotypes and asexual fetishization, I discussed how many stories with asexual characters involve changing the asexual character into someone who actively desires sex and feels sexually attracted to their lover. In the process of changing the asexual character’s emotions, they undermine asexuality as a sexual orientation and perpetuate harmful ideas about asexual people. But demisexual people’s feelings can and sometimes do change this way in real life. So by making your asexual-spectrum character demisexual instead of strictly asexual, you can represent a sexual minority (yay!), have all the slow-building sexual tension you want (yay!) and not shit on asexual people along the way (yaaaay!) 

It’s still possible to be problematic when you do this, though. If you’re not careful, you might accidentally imply that…

All asexual people are actually demisexual.

Demisexuality is a change from being asexual to being allosexual.

The allosexual partner was responsible for the changes in the demisexual character’s feelings.

The fact that the demisexual person now feels sexual attraction means that they love their partner more, or that the relationship is more real.

Demisexuality is a choice, or a change in behavior.

Here are some more ways that you can write a demisexual character without invalidating asexual or demisexual people:

There are also some potential plot ideas and sources of conflict unique to demisexual characters:

And lastly, a disclaimer: I am not demisexual, but I am asexual. My knowledge of demisexual people’s experiences is thus rather limited. I asked demisexual people to review this piece before I published it, and I welcome any further corrections or additions from demisexual readers.

Big thanks to elasmoblam, shadowtalon, fixitpixie and adventures in asexuality for helping me improve this essay!

Your wife changes her hair color every season and her personality adjusts slightly. You’re secretly only in love with Autumn wife. She just came home sporting her Winter color.

it’s my fault. it’s just that when we met it was autumn; her red-orange hair and crackling laughter. there’s a little spooky in her, a lot of play. and what a better time for falling?

i didn’t realize it for the first few years - something shifting, something so subtle. the winter makes us all cold, the summer makes us all a little out of our minds. i just loved her, because she was incredible, and i was the luckiest person alive.

it’s just that i realized that spring came with sudden bursts of cold. it’s just that summer frequently raged in with fire sprouting from her lips. it’s just that winter was the worst of all, her eyes dead. it’s just that autumn loves me different; throws herself into it without the clingy sweat of summer. i used to love that summer girl, you know? i loved how wild she was, the way in summer she took every risk she could. but i carried her home drunk one too many times, cleaned up one too many of the messes she made for no reason than to enjoy the sensation of burning. and winter was worse; the shutdown, the isolation. how she became distant, a blizzard, caught up in her own head, unable to tell me what was wrong and unable to think i actually wanted to listen.

she comes home, her hair bleached white. a dark smile on her lips. the shadowy parts of her are back. they loom like icicles overhead. she kisses me with her body held at a distance, a peck on my cheek that feels like an iceberg. she makes polite conversation and we go to bed early, our bodies untouching. 

it is a lonely season, i think on the ninth day of this. winter is cold. winter is known for the death of things. when i look at her, i see the girl i fell for, inhabited by an alien. she was the first women i loved so much i felt it would kill me. i can’t leave. when i wake her up with my crying, she tells me to shush and go back to sleep. she’s different like this, quiet, doesn’t eat. 

three days later i stare at myself in the mirror. i wonder if it’s me. if the fat on my body or something in my face or the wrinkles and she doesn’t love me. i try prettier lingerie, lean cuisine, i try different hair, more makeup, try harder. it doesn’t work. she looks at me the same; that empty gaze that neither loves nor condemns my actions. 

somewhere in februrary i lose it. we’re fighting again, from car to restaurant to car to home again. we fight about stupid things, small things; i tell her i feel she doesn’t love me, she says i’m not listening. the circle goes around and around, old pain peeling back, new pain unhealing. i sleep on the couch.

i wake up when i hear her crying, white hair around her all messed up. the kind of sobbing that only comes at two in the morning, heavy and thick and hurting. my winter girl. my heart is breaking. she looks up at me like i’m her anchor. “i’m sorry i’m like this,” she says. and i start saying, it’s okay i’m here we’re married, but she just shakes her head and says, “I know this isn’t the real me.”

i hold her cold hand. she stares at the blankets. “i am different in winter,” she whispers, “i know i am and i’m sorry.” she looks at me. “why do you think i dye my hair? cut it off? get rid of the old me?”

i tell her it’s okay. we’re together and it’s okay, and then she whispers, “i’m sorry you married four of me.”

we lay there like that, her head on my chest. she falls asleep. i stare at the ceiling, thinking of the way she sounded when she was crying. how i helped put her in that pain. how i promised in sickness and in health and everything in between.

the next day i spend at the library. there aren’t enough books on how to love someone with seasonal affective disorder so i make my own, notes and pages and little ideas on post-its. and i take a deep breath and make myself a promise.

she comes home to her favorite dinner and we kiss and she’s uneasy but that’s okay. the next day i bring home flowers and the next day she finds little love notes in her pockets. i love her quiet, the way winter demands, understand her sex drive is faltering; spend more time just cuddling. we drink wine and we kiss and some part of her starts relaxing. 

the truth is there is no loving someone out of their mental illness. the truth is that you can love someone in despite of it; love them loud enough to give them an excuse to believe they can make their way out of it.

and i learn. i remember the rebirth of spring, when she starts thawing. we kiss and have picnics in pretty dresses. i remember her joy at little birds and her rain dancing. i fall in love with the flowers in her cheeks and the little bursts of cleaning. i fall in love with summer’s slow walks and milkshakes and shouting to music playing too loud on the speakers. i fall in love with her dancing, with the sunfire energy. and when winter comes; i am ready. i remember that snow used to look pretty. i fall in love with the hearth of her, with the holiday, with the slow smile that spreads across her face so shyly. i fall in love with how she looks in boots and mittens and every day i find another reason to love her the way she deserves - they way i always should have.

she comes home with her white hair and dark smile and a package in her hands. i ask to see what it is and that small shy grin comes creeping out. it’s a sunlamp packed in with medication. she looks at me with those wide eyes and that beautiful winter blush. “i’m trying to get better,” she whispers, “i promise.”

recovery doesn’t look immediate. sometimes it isn’t neat. i can’t say we never fight or that we’re suddenly complete. but each day, that tiny girl’s strength gives me another reason. i love her. i love her while she tames the roller coaster of spring; i love her for reigning in the summer storms; i love her for taking her winter and trying to be warm. it is hard, because everything worth it is hard. she spreads out her autumn leaves; mixes the best parts of her into everything. learns to take winter’s silence for a moment before yelling in summer. learns to take autumn’s spice and give it to spring. we are both learning.

one day she comes home and her hair is different, but it’s a style i don’t know. i kiss it and tell her that she’s beautiful and the inside of me swells like a flood. i’m so glad that she’s mine. every part of her. the whole. i am the luckiest person on earth. and i always have been. but she’s hugging me and saying, “thank you for helping me,” and i can’t explain why i’m crying.

this is what love is; not always an emotion but rather your actions. the choices we make when we realize our lives would be empty if the other was absent. this is what love is: letting them grow, helping them find their way in out of the cold. this is what love is: sometimes it takes work to see how the thing you planted together actually grows.

this is what love looks like in an autumn girl: it is winter and she glows.

I’m actually sobbing jesus christ

my heart is aching??? this is gorgeous

Wow. Worth the read, don’t scroll.

This is everything.

Everything about how to love.

I was not prepared

Nor was I.

“this is what love is; not always an emotion but rather your actions. the choices we make when we realize our lives would be empty if the other was absent. this is what love is: letting them grow, helping them find their way in out of the cold. this is what love is: sometimes it takes work to see how the thing you planted together actually grows.”

Honestly, if you scrolled… Go back up and read it.

I’ve read this again and again, and it just wrecks me every time.

This is beyond beautiful. Thanks for doing this prompt @inkskinned

Boring

“Asexual characters are boring” I have traveled across eleven countries and ten states When I was thirteen I had hydrochloric acid dumped down my back and I walked away without a scratch When I was twenty-one I broke into castle ruins with a professor and found out afterwards that they were probably haunted

I once got stranded on a mountain while I was searching for the Cave of Zeus and got rescued by a little old lady who didn’t speak a word of English and the local village’s schoolteacher who did

I’ve learned how to surf on water, to dance with fire, and to bungee jump through the air I’ve walked up mountains, down beaches and through forests

My friends tell me I have the weirdest luck of anyone they’ve ever met and laugh about what mysterious forces must conspire to keep me alive

And yet, according to you a story about my life would be dull and uninteresting simply because I have no interest in sex

I wasn’t aware that that was the sum total of my value That no one cared about what I’d done only who

That every man must get a girl and every girl must be gotten and that to do otherwise is to be banished into obscurity

And yet I’m still here, still writing, still telling stories, and while I have been described as many things boring has yet to be one of them

Asexual characters are boring I pity your imagination

If everyone is something, having one of them be a negative stereotype/problematic trope of that thing is usually fine.

That is to say that, for example, if every character is inhuman, having an inhuman asexual character is generally fine; conversely, if every character is asexual, having an inhuman asexual character is generally fine. if you have all women, one woman being flighty and overemotional is fine.

If everyone dies, a gay character dying isn’t Bury Your Gays, just as if everyone is gay and one of them dies.

One issue with negative stereotypes is that you are presenting that as the representation of that type of person, the way that people are. If you only have one woman and she’s flighty and overemotional, then from your story, women are flighty and overemotional.

If you find yourself falling into the trap of having your single representation of a character fall into a negative stereotype, consider why you’re writing them that way. Why is the inhuman character the one you make asexual? Why is it the black girl who has to be mothering?