Dear fic writers,
Here is a friendly reminder that there are sexualities other than gay and straight!
Just because a character suddenly finds themselves attracted to a member of the same sex does not suddenly mean “Gee willikers, I guess that means I’m gay!”
I may want to shake you a little when some of you folks write that.
Just a little.
Speaking as a prominent member of the aintgiveashitsexual community, I think there should be more characters that are whocaressexual, but then every fic would be like
When Harry Potter Met Benedict Cucumberbun: A Speculative fanfiction
Harry Potter saw how Benedict Cumberbund’s neck sloped straight into his forehead, and judged this physical characteristic to be attractive to certain people who would find that to be attractive. He also had other features sometimes but not always deemed attractive, such as limbs and a torso. So far as torsos were judged, this was one of them. As Benedict turned to face Harry Potter, the sun played on the highlights of his dark or sometimes gingery hair. His body now blocked the sun, which made it seem as if he was backlit as in a feminine hygiene commercial. If one was inclined to take light as a sign of goodness and if one was conditioned to link goodness to angels, one would remark that he looked like an angel. Minus the wings. Considerably less flaming swords, too, but the day was young.
Benedict sexily opened his mouth (which has the potential to sometimes be used to interact pleasurably with sex organs) to speak (if he wished, he could have “spoke dirty” but Candlebunny was fastidious about oral hygiene and detested the idea of dirt being in his mouth on principal).
The sexy words he said sexily were, “What do you desire, milord?”
Benedict Choirofboys was rubbing his nipples as he said this. It could have been that his shirt was chaffing, or it could have been meant to arouse Harry Potter (a plan that hinged on Harry Potter’s ability to assume that beneath his clothes he had a human body with nipples placed in the usual locations. A risky gamble, to be sure).
Harry potter considered for a moment what Chumberbatch was asking. Did he mean “desire” as in “what tier of Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs he had not satisfied”? Then Harry Potter thought that if he meant that he would have said “need” instead of “desire”. Perhaps then he meant desire as a want for corporeal goods, or perhaps he meant it in a more metaphysical way. Contextually speaking, either one was possible.
Harry potter replied, “I would like a wizarding apparatus, as I am a wizard in need of one, or world peace.”
Benedict swooned sexily, falling into Harry Potter’s arms.
“Me too”, he whispered.
From that day forth, they worked together—in a mutual satisfactory platonic way that was every bit as fulfilling and valid as a partnership that includes consensual acts of sexual congress but was no more morally or biologically correct as all expressions of sexuality or lack there-of between consenting adults are valid—in securing world peace, and also wizardy stuff.
One day, centuries later, a old man took his granddaughter out to gaze at the sky. His granddaughter looked up innocently and asked, “Grandpa, why do we have cornucopia technology and live in a post-scarcity society?”
Her grandfather looked up at the stars, tears glistening in his rheumy eyes like diamonds in a bowl of clam chowder.
“A wizard did it,” he said. “And Sherlock Holmes helped. Their cauldron collection was magnificent”.
“Oh. They were probably boning”, his daughter said and her grandfather laughed.
“Probably, young one. Probably”.