#i'm a young aroace i dont know what I'm doing

[alwaysreadingalwayswriting]

To the Aroace Tumblr population

I have a question of the utmost importance, fellow aroaces.

I'm relatively new to the idea of being aroace (although I'm quite sure that I've been so my whole life), so I don't know much about it and I only have one ace friend. I've attempted research on several social media platform (including this one and Pinterest) but have yet to find the answer to my question, which is: Am I still Aroace if I am open to the fact that I might want a romantic relationship in the far future?

Some context. I'm almost nineteen, about as financially well-off as the average person my age (which is to say, I dang sure ain't wealthy) and I have no interest in attempting to pursue a relationship, which would be not only expensive (time and money) but I genuinely don't want an emotional attachment like that.

The conundrum that has me sitting here asking for the queer wisdom of Tumblr is the fact that while I am perfectly fine without a romantic relationship for the rest of my life, I am open to the possibility that I might one day meet someone who I'm willing to change that for.

Does that make me not aromantic?

[thisgirlnamedblusy]

pspspspspsps here kitty kitty kitty (Joking,... now you laugh) ....

Italian, Fem!Reader, that had traveled briefly to the village, to sell some books, movies, and whatnot -- just to grant the vilagers some sense of like.. the outside world? If that makes sense?

Reader, having already timed their escape, decides to go to that peculiar house up on the hill, across the bridge, before their departure, -- maybe the residents, who, Reader thought, was an old couple, or a very wealthy woman, .. maybe even one of those trust-fund families.. yes! Reader BET that the inhabitant of a place so grand would spend a pretty penny on some foreign knowledge.. maybe, Reader could even upsell. Yes! That would be enough to pay off Readers risky carriage fees.. (nervous laughter)

Reader, ignoring all darkness, all red flags and blatant signs of danger, because, well, Reader is very oblivious, and very optimistic, -- and, well, they barely know English, so, .. how would Reader know what the villagers say about the owner of said.. Oh-so large mansion? Pfft. As if.

'Oh.. its getting dark. Jeez, the trees sure do make this place gloomy!' 'Uhhhh.. why do i have a blaring sense of discomfort, nausea, unease, and a will of fright that makes my stomach churn with instinct to yeet myself the opposite direction? Oh, man, i knew i shouldnt have eaten that un-refrigerated fruit!'

Angie, if i remember that dollies name correctly, answers .. takes one look at Reader, in all of their 'Italian-beauty-standard-fitting', 'italian-book-carrying', 'Donna-language-speaking' glory (Donna language speaking because.. Italian. That was also a joke. Plz laugh), and immidiately, with that screechy voice calls Donna over

Donna fucking FAAAWNNNSSS over everything Reader has, buys their entire stock, then, out of pure gushy-ness, of how nostalgic, and amazing, and flavourful (meaning, how much stuff that Donna was desperately searching for, Reader has in stock) Readers 'for-sales' are, that she, spur-in-the-moment, ushurs Reader inside, makes them tea and whatnot,

well.. so much for Readers plan of escape. Poor bus-maid Reader hired, they thought, as they sat awkwardly beside the lady in black, veiled thickly, who was talking in Italian, since, well, Reader has little to no knowledge of english. Atleast shes also Italian. Thats nice. Wait.. why does Reader feel their cheeks heating up? Gosh, darn it, Reader has read (aha) far too many romance books.

Make it so that, since Reader, who, now, cant escape the Village, since their little plans of flight had been SPOILEDD!! (reference. Chuckles) they stay with Donna, then, after awhile, after teaching Donna everything they know about Italy, and get really comftorable with her, and sees her without her veil on accident, and cooks traditionally, does fucking .. house chores, because, well, they're an unpaying guest in a strangers home, they both start catchin' feelsies and all that sweet stuff. I'll leave the deciding of when and how to you! How generous of me!

(No smut, please. Aroace look'enne for sum intimate, not-so-intimate love. Aha. Joke again. Just a little giggle, please 😨)

Hope ya have an amazing day!! Yes, i know im too descriptive, im just awesome like that. Much apreesh, Anon. 💗

(p.s, thank u blusy 🫂🫂🫂 virtual hugs from italy. ciao bbg.. or.. bbb.. i dont .. i dunno)

Yesss!!!! Well, that was quite long request, but it was funny to write!!! Thank you for sending it and for your funny words!!!! I hope you like it and sorry about the language(s) mistakes!!!!

Foreign Business

Pairing: Donna Beneviento x Fem, Italian! Reader

Warnings: fluff, Donna being Donna

Word count: 8,585

Summary: Should you leave that gloomy village?

N/A: Sorry about the language mistakes!!! Requests are open!!! I'm waiting yours!!! I love you all!!!

“17:30, do you hear me?” the young woman driving the small bus said.

You rolled your eyes and nodded, picking up your stuff.

“I don't think it will… How do you say… take long,” you murmured with an innocent smile, taking out your suitcase as best you could, letting it fall into the snow.

“Hey, stranger,” the girl said, with a gloomy look. “You have to pay me now.”

“Cosa? No, I'll pay you when I get back,” you said with a frown, crossing your arms.

“I'm leaving,” the girl whispered, starting the vehicle again.

“Hey, hey, hey, hey! No, no, no…” you said comically running towards the small bus. “Why are you in such a hurry?”

“Look stranger, it's clear that you have no idea of what’s going on in this place, right?” the driver asked, with a raised eyebrow. You shook your head and smiled innocently.

“Hey, I was invited,” you protested confused, giving up and taking out your wallet.

“Who has invited you?” she wanted to know.

“I have a relative in this country who is also a businessman,” you explained, putting on your coat because of the cold. “He says he is known as… The Duke.”

The girl looked at you curiously, but finally shook her head.

“No idea…” she murmured. “Besides, that doesn’t matter to me. My job is to bring you here and take you back to Bucharest. If for… Well, for whatever reason you don’t come back, I’ll be left without my money, do you understand?”

“Why wouldn’t I come back?” you asked nervously, looking down the hill, where the old village stood in a frozen mist. “I'm just going to sell my stuff and…”

“You bore me,” the driver sighed, with a mocking laugh that made you burn with rage. “Just pay me now, spaghetti.”

“Mm, politeness is not your best virtue, is it?” you murmured, wishing to say other things, other not-so-elegant words.

After all, that stupid girl was your only transportation in that place in the middle of nowhere… You should control your desire to insult her with all your might.

“I'd rather be rude than stupid,” the young woman laughed, extending her hand for you to give her the money you were holding, squeezing it tightly.

“Ugh, here, your money,” you grumbled, getting a satisfied look from the driver, who turned off the engine, reclining her seat and picking up a magazine.

“A pleasure doing business with you, spaghetti...” she sighed with a sinister laugh.

You, without her seeing you, made fun of her, angrily picking up your suitcase and walking towards the path where you had met with the Duke.

“Stupida...” you hissed, shaking your head, observing the landscape around you.

The trip had been exhausting. Dodging the mountains, those snowy landscapes had taken you too much time, but, that seemingly remote place had a special charm that made it worth it.

You were always a saleswoman, descendant of a family of merchants that expanded throughout old Europe decades ago. Sell, buy, repeat… That was your way of life. Trading in the villages of your country, Italy, was something simple for you, perhaps too simple.

The lack of interest of people in the modern world for something as simple as books, films, or any element of culture, had caused your business to falter, and you had no more than four clients in your area.

You always believed in tradition, in following the family legacy, even when circumstances were not in your favour. You could say that you were also a bit stubborn. Your family branched out to all possible places, places like France, Germany, Spain…

They all seemed to be haunted by the same curse, the same lack of interest in a good book, in knowledge itself.

But there was one place, a place where the tentacles of your family had arrived to stay for a long time, a place where the past lived, where present and future seemed not to exist at all.

A distant relative, the Duke, was for you the luckiest member of the family. Not even your parents knew how long that man had been in that village, in Romania. There were even rumors that he never came, that he never left, he had always existed.

Nonsense and legends in your opinion.

What you did know was that in that place, there were some business opportunities.

You had heard many things about the Duke, about the place where he worked. Apart from old superstitions and legends of witches and vampires, things you didn't believe in, you had heard that the people of the place lived completely oblivious to the outside world.

A unique opportunity. How much would a person pay to know what the world around them was like?

You didn't really care much about the reasons, those strange rumors. You didn't even wonder why that village seemed to be frozen in time. The only thing you thought about when you got on that plane was business.

“Qui...” you sighed when you reached that meeting point the Duke marked.

Without having anything else to do but wait, you sorted your merchandise while you studied the snowy forest that surrounded you, trying to decipher the old wooden signs that indicated illegible directions.

“Re-Reser-Reservoir...” you stammered, removing the snow from one of those signs, looking around. “Un bacino idrico?” you asked, scratching your head. “Mm, interessante...”

Yes, maybe if you finished soon you could do some sightseeing and, above all, you could see the enormous castle that seemed to guard the village.

The minutes passed, you couldn't tell if quickly or slowly. Nothing, there was no sign of the Duke. You might not have known what he looked like, but… In reality, you hadn't seen anyone pass by that path.

The cold began to mix with impatience, making you shiver.

“Ah!” you shrieked when, out of nowhere, a flock of black crows appeared, passing over you, close, too close.

Those black birds seemed like an evil omen, but you were too eager to know that place to realize it. Simply, with a proud cough, you stood up from your crouched position, shaking the snow off your dress.

“Uccelli…” you growled furiously, watching how that flock of crows moved away with sinister sounds.

Checking that your merchandise was still intact, you closed your suitcase, crossing your arms, slowly losing patience.

As you sighed for the umpteenth time, you realized that maybe you were in the wrong place. Asking wouldn't do any good, and besides, there was no one you could ask.

“Mm?” you muttered when you noticed something different among your stuff, a sealed envelope that you could swear wasn't there before.

Looking around confused, thinking no way those crows left that envelope, you slowly picked it up, opening it with a frown. As you began to read, you looked nervously at that forest again. It was a letter for you, in the middle of nowhere.

Dear (Y/N)

I'm afraid something unexpected has come up. It prevents me from attending to you, even though I was certainly looking forward for us to meet. I suppose that, since you are my family, to trade in the village on your own won't be a problem for you.

I'm sorry for the inconvenience.

PS: A word of advice, listen to what the villagers tell you, I wouldn't want the wolves to devour you, or anything worse. Please take care of yourself.

Duke

There was no doubt about it, that letter had arrived there by magic. The idea of ​​messenger crows seemed less and less crazy. But the reality was overwhelming: you were alone in that unknown place.

You had two options: You could take your suitcase, walk back in your tracks and go to the bus, writing yet another failure in your diary, a very expensive one. On the other hand, you could ignore those chills, that feeling of being where you shouldn't be and do what you had come to do.

I wouldn't want the wolves to devour you, or anything worse…

That warning seemed like an irony, a little joke that was surely common to all outsiders like you. Well, it's not like it was a place where there could be wolves but… That wasn't the disturbing thing. What could be worse than being savagely devoured by those beasts?

Curiosity or cowardice, that was your dilemma.

With a thoughtful sigh, you looked at those two possible paths, imagining that, under each of them, there was a line of text that told you which page to go to, like those adventure books that offered several possibilities, some of them fatal ones.

You always fantasized too much thanks to those books. Maybe if you had been as rational as the protagonists of those great adventures, you would have considered your possibilities better.

Shrugging, not wanting to have wasted your money on a fruitless trip, you didn’t listen to the Duke's letter. After all, your job was to talk to people, you didn't need his help, or so you thought.

The castle was increasingly imposing as you approached. It was fascinating, a place from a novel, full of possibilities. Surely when you returned home and read one of those books, you would imagine that gloomy and mysterious landscape.

The glances traveled to your eyes passively. These villagers were definitely strange, they seemed to either fear you, or wish you away, you weren't sure.

Unfortunately, your eagerness to offer knowledge to these poor souls was unsuccessful.

Muttering things you didn't quite understand, in an English that was practically incomprehensible to you, which, on the other hand, was bad luck, since you didn't fully master the language either, each one of the doors of those old cabins closed in your face.

“Hey, I haven't even said my name!” you protested after the tenth disinterested grunt from one of the inhabitants of that place. “Cazzo…”

The door opened again and a young woman with an apologetic look appeared.

“Forgive my father. He doesn't trust outsiders,” the young woman said. Well, at least she spoke to you. “My name is Elena.”

“Sono (Y/N),” you said politely, shaking your hand with the young woman's, who frowned upon hearing you speak that way.

“It's clear that you're not a villager,” the girl joked, closing the door.

“No, I'm Italian,” you said, with a business smile that you had already rehearsed.

The young Elena nodded curiously, glancing at your suitcase.

“Are you a merchant?” she asked, pointing at your merchandise.

You nodded slowly.

“Yes, I've come on behalf of a relative... His name is, or he calls himself... Duke,” you explained with a trembling voice. Your nerves couldn't fail you. At least you had managed to talk to someone.

“The Duke?” the girl asked, with a surprised look. “Wow, I didn't know he had a family.”

“Yes, but he seems to be the only one who is successful,” you murmured jokingly, pronouncing the words in the best way possible. “Well... Elena, right? Are you interested in something?”

“No, I'm sorry. I'm afraid we have everything we need,” she said, shaking her head with a kind smile. “My father says that books are a waste of time.”

“Sciocchezze,” you sighed with a mischievous smile, showing her a vinyl record. “What about music? It's the sound of the soul.”

“No, no, I... I'm afraid we don't need anything like that,” Elena shook her head again.

“Oh, great,” you said, letting your smile fade at the thought that you couldn't even get enough money to recoup the investment of the trip.

“Don't be offended, just…” the young woman said, gesturing with her hands to emphasize her apology. “… We just work to live, that's, that's all we do, anything else would be entertainment.”

“Oh,” you said curiously, arching your eyebrows.

“But, um…” the girl said, looking around. “Maybe, maybe I know someone who might be interested.”

“Do you?” you asked.

Elena nodded, briefly pointing to a large house that stood out from the orchards.

“Luiza has always been a very cultured woman, and she is very kind. Maybe she would want to listen to you,” the young woman explained, in a kind tone. You blinked, looking at the indicated place, and smiled. “She lives up there, in the orchards.”

“Elena!” A loud voice was heard inside the cabin and the girl shuddered.

“I'm coming, father!” Elena shrieked, with another apologetic look. “Sorry, (Y/N), but…”

“Oh, of course, there is no… Pro-problem,” you said nervous about the impatience of that unpleasant man. “Luiza… Okay. Ciao!”

At least that girl helped you not to lose hope.

Elena wasn't lying, that Luiza seemed a bit different from the rest of the villagers, kinder, smarter, with an understandable English... It seems that you interested her enough to invite you into her house.

“Wait there, I'll make tea,” she said kindly, indicating that you sit at a table where a man seemed to be sharpening a knife with a distrustful look. After a few tense seconds, the man left his task, looking at you with distrust.

“So you're a merchant...” he whispered, tilting his head and crossing his arms.

“Yes,” you answered, with that well-rehearsed smile.

“And an outsider...” he whispered, with a sinister smile. “Luiza says you are related to the Duke...”

“That's right,” you said, without losing your merchant composure.

He laughed, shaking his head.

“Wow, I didn't know the fat man had a family,” the man said, with the same surprise in his voice as the young woman before. “Where are you from?”

“Italy,” you said proudly, ignoring those dark eyes, which hardened when they heard you answer.

“Italy, you say?” he asked, leaning a little towards you, narrowing his eyes. “You say you're related to the Duke?”

“Y-Yes,” you stammered, confused by that change in attitude.

“Mm, are you sure you're related to the merchant?” he asked suspiciously, making you nervous. “Hey, maybe by any chance you know...”

“Ahem,” Luiza interrupted, serving you the cup of tea. “Marcus.”

“What? I'm just asking, the girl says she's Italian,” the man, her husband, apparently, protested. “You and I know who…”

“Marcus,” Luiza said, with a firmer tone. The man shook his head, sighing in defeat. “Don't scare the poor girl.”

“Bah, if she's not scared yet, she must be brave, or stupid,” Marcus commented, laughing amused. You made an effort to smile at that little joke, smelling the delicious aroma of tea.

“Okay, (Y/N), unlike my husband, I’m interested in those foreign items… Do you have any opera records?”

“Oh, sure, sure,” you said, as if coming out of a confused thought, opening your suitcase and putting on a display of everything you had.

Well, you did manage to sell a few things. You would always be grateful to that woman, the only kind woman in that place, apart from the young girl, of course. But even with that partial success, you didn't have enough to feel like you had succeeded.

If that woman had bought you something, nobody was telling you that there couldn't be more Luizas in that place. You just had to find them.

You were ready to leave that house, when a small book caught your attention. It looked like a book full of old photographs of the village. You approached it with curiosity while Luiza kindly opened the door for you.

“Um, sorry, but... Can I take a look?” you asked, pointing at the book. The woman looked at her husband and he shrugged, making a vague gesture of farewell.

“Of course...” the woman sighed, faking a smile. You returned it gratefully, starting to turn the pages of that album. “This village is an old one.”

“I see,” you commented nodding, turning pages and pages full of snowy landscapes. “My family had told me about this place, but... Well, not much. What is this?” you asked, pointing to a kind of square guarded by four large statues.

“Those are the… The four founders of the village,” Luiza explained. “The Dimitrescu family, owner of the castle; the Moreau family, owner of the lake lands; the Heisenberg family who owned a metal factory on the outskirts of the village, and the… The Beneviento family, the doll makers.”

“Oh,” you sighed interested, not even hearing the names very well, you were more attentive to those old photographs. “Does anyone live in the castle? I'd like to visit it.”

“Um, no, I…” the woman stammered, making you frown. “I don't think you should go near it, (Y/N).”

“Isn't it open to the public? What a pity,” you said with a disappointed voice.

Luiza made a strange gesture, shaking her head.

“Young lady, take some advice from me,” the woman said, speaking in a very low tone, approaching you with a hand on your shoulder. “You must leave this place.”

“Why?” you asked, confused, looking away at another of the photographs, one with a beautiful mansion, guarded by a waterfall.

It quickly caught your attention, even making you ignore the kind woman's warning words.

“Because…” Luiza sighed, with a broken tone, as if she were afraid of something. “It's not the best place for an outsider.”

“Oh, yeah, well,” you said, amused, gesturing with your hand. “I have people skills. That's not a problem. Tell me, is this house in the village?”

“Oh, that house…” Luiza murmured, looking at the same photograph.

“It's impressive,” you said curious. “Does anyone live there?” you insisted, running your hand over the drawing of what looked like a symbol, one with a moon and a sun.

“It's, it's far from here,” the woman commented, closing the album and subtly pushing you towards the exit. “Listen to me, don't go near that place. It's very dangerous.”

You shook your head with wide eyes, pulling your suitcase.

“Everything here seems very dangerous,” you commented with a low voice and a frown. The woman put on a sad look, caressing your cheek in a strange way.

“Go away, (Y/N), go away before the shadows invade you,” Luiza whispered, turning her back on you and closing the door softly, leaving you petrified on the floor.

“Cosa diavolo non va?” you asked yourself with a strange grimace, slowly moving away from the house.

Ignoring these strange warnings, you walked aimlessly through the village, looking for someone who wasn't afraid of your presence, or who wouldn't bow their head, ignoring your greeting.

Tired from your erratic walk, you decided to lean against a stone sculpture, in the middle of another snowy square. Failure loomed in your thoughts, in your mind, wondering if perhaps with the Duke present, things would have been different.

You looked at your watch and sighed, it was still early to leave, and even more so when you had barely sold four things. You had to make an effort, either that, or try another nearby village.

The crows flew above you like a bad omen that you couldn't interpret. The sky was dark, gloomy.

Don't let the shadows invade you...

Luiza's words echoed in your ears, words you didn't know how to interpret, or rather, that you didn't want to interpret. You were in a different country, in a different culture, lost in that snowy, sinister village. Even though you believed that nothing could go wrong, a bad feeling began to haunt you.

Yes, maybe it was time to leave.

You stood up with a defeated gasp, shaking your head, depressed by your ridiculous failure. But, you had barely taken two steps when something caught your attention.

In front of you was a wooden door, a kind of fence that separated a private property. Above the frame, there was a symbol, one that you remembered having seen before: that moon and that sun.

Your mind was left thinking. Yes, surely that would be the way to the waterfall house. It had to be. Luiza warned you to not get too close but… Curiosity was calling you.

Okay, it wasn't a huge castle but… Still, that mansion couldn't belong to just any villager. The curious relationship of wealth, bigger houses and kindness that you found in the village made you think that maybe someone rich lived there, a person or family with enough money to think about leisure or wisdom.

“Mm,” you murmured curiously, approaching that place, looking at that symbol closely. The door was open. You almost thought you heard whispers that encouraged you to enter that dark path.

You swallowed when a cold breeze came out of that darkness. Your body trembled for no reason, but your mind was blinded by greed. You couldn't miss that opportunity to know what or who was on the other side, who lived in that place.

The sunlight illuminated the path you had to follow with increasingly less intense rays. Slowly, you followed that luminous advice, entering through the wooden door, walking towards the unknown.

It didn't seem like a very strange place, or so you thought. The trees seemed sad, that place seemed devoured by time. Strange objects hung from the almost rotten branches, which you passed by without flinching.

You simply kept your mind busy, like a danger blocking mechanism that seemed to alert your subconscious. Instead of worrying, when you saw that those things hanging from the trees were dolls, you simply whistled, making your way through the branches with a slow walk.

You passed an old wooden bridge, one that said: go away in all possible languages. You were never good at interpreting those words, those screams from your mind that demanded your attention.

The sunlight diminished as you walked, it was getting dark. The branches of the trees drew disturbing shadows that surrounded a pair of ruined cabins.

“Brr,” you shivered when you saw those wooden claws stalking you.

The smile never left your face, but your body began to notice the symptoms of that inner fear; a dizziness, a feeling of heaviness in your stomach... All of these were physical signs that seemed to want to stop you in your tracks.

You even thought that the tea or the fruit you ate at Luiza's had upset your stomach. No, you didn't see the danger in any way, or rather, you didn't want to see it.

Finally you reached a clearing, where a mound showed a sinister grave you didn't want to approach. Your stupidity and your desire for wealth were so strong that you thought it was perhaps a simple decoration.

“Un ascensore...” you murmured when you reached a red door, surely the entrance to that curious mansion.

Biting your lip, you rubbed your hands entering those metal bars. Of course, whoever lived in that place had to have a lot of money, and, above all, a great desire to spend it. You fantasized about what you were going to find: a rich family? A widow, perhaps? A wealthy man? Maybe one of the founders of the village’s descendants? It didn't matter who it was, but you could smell money from miles away.

When you got out of the elevator, the sight in front of you forced you to stop. There was that house, that huge house with a beautiful waterfall next to it.

“If this doesn't work, I'm leaving the business,” you said, rehearsing in your head the phrases to say to the inhabitant of that place, greetings, smiles, all your charms.

The sound of the falling water relaxed you, although you didn't know why you were even nervous. The word danger whispered in your mind like a premonition or intuition, but you let the waterfall completely eclipse it. The beauty of that place couldn't entail any danger, you were convinced.

You cleared your throat as you approached the door, slowly climbing the steps. At the moment, there was nothing that matched Luiza's warnings, nothing, until, before you could knock on the door, it opened with an ominous creak.

“Um, hello?” you asked, seeing how, in front of you, there was nothing but a beautiful wooden room, with a rocking chair that moved by itself. “Ciao...” you repeated in a lower voice.

There didn't seem to be anyone in that place and you sighed, relaxing your shoulders and looking around.

“Oh!” you squealed in fear when you looked down, where, what looked like a ventriloquist's doll was standing looking at you. “Oh... Cazzo... What...” you said upset. “Good... Good trick...”

Smiling, thinking that, like the gravestones in the clearing, this was just a joke, you crouched down curiously, looking at that puppet.

“Hello?” you repeated, standing up again and ignoring the doll, which, perhaps because of the accumulated fatigue, you thought was following you with its gaze.

“Down here, stupid!” a high-pitched screech scared you again, making you fall backwards, tripping and crashing your body against the hard stone of the porch.

But neither the pain of the fall nor the fright were the worst. Yes, you were not dreaming, if it was a joke, it was the best one you had ever seen.

That doll, that damn doll moved, moved its articulated mouth, laughing out loud.

“Who are you?” the puppet asked, approaching your collapsed body. You backed away scared, crawling until you reached those small steps.

“Ahhh! Una bambola parlante!” you shrieked in fear, standing up as quickly as possible with your hands in front of your body.

“Who are you calling a talking doll, you silly, silly?” the puppet asked.

No, there was no doubt. There were no strings, no ventriloquist, it was alive.

“Ah, io, io… What?” you stammered nervously, shaking your head, blinking hard to make what was undoubtedly a hallucination go away. It didn’t.

“Wait, wait, wait, can you repeat that?” the doll said, approaching with a comical step. “What did you just say?”

“Cosa?” you asked, grabbing your suitcase, ready to run away. “Sorry, I… No, no… What?”

“You called me a talking doll,” it said, crossing its arms.

 You nodded confused.

“I'm, I'm, I'm sorry... No, no...” you stammered, still shocked and scared by the impossibility of that old toy. It couldn't move, it just couldn't.

“Who are you?” it asked again. “Why do you know Italian?”

“I-I-I'm Italian,” you stammered, shaking your head.

The doll tilted its head curiously, looking you up and down.

“You're a long way from home, you silly Italian,” the doll commented in a mocking tone.

You blinked again, scratching the back of your neck, searching all over the doll for the mechanism that was supposed to make it behave like that. You didn't find it.

“I-I'm a merchant,” you said with a broken voice. The doll nodded, walking towards you quickly, climbing up your dress. It was too close, you couldn't move.

“Merchant?” it asked again, looking at you as if it was reading your soul. “What do you sell?”

“I sell… I sell… Books and… Vinyl and… Movies…” you explained when the doll finally got off your body, without taking those cold eyes off you.

“Books and movies?” the puppet asked.

You, nervous, still scared, nodded erratically.

“Do you have Italian stuff?”

“S-Sure I have,” you whispered in a small voice.

“Mm,” the doll murmured turning around, but looking at you several times before disappearing into the darkness of the mansion. “Donna, Donna! You have to see this, come, come!”

“Donna?” you asked yourself, gathering enough courage to walk back to the door, where, after a few seconds, the sound of heels approached.

In front of you was a woman, a woman dressed completely in black, with a veil covering her face. She had a stoic pose, she emanated danger, and even more so when you saw that she was holding the doll in her arms.

Even if she was the most experienced ventriloquist in the world, she could never have done that, it was simply impossible.

“She's pretty, huh, Donna?” the doll said, nudging the lady, who sighed tiredly. “An Italian beauty knocking on your door, not even in your dreams could you imagine something like that.”

“Angie…” A hoarse, dark voice came out of that black veil while the woman lowered the doll to the floor. It laughed amusedly, staring at you again.

“Um, well…” you murmured confused, with your gaze fixed on that black veil, on those invisible eyes that you knew were watching you. “H-Hello…”

There was no answer. The lady didn't even seem to be bothered by your words.

“Um… I'm… I'm (Y/N),” you said, putting fear aside and politely extending your hand towards her, who looked at it briefly, without returning your greeting. “No? Okay… Well…”

“I'm Angie!” the doll shrieked, grabbing your hand instead of its owner and shaking it roughly. “Nice to scare you!”

“H-Hello… Suppongo…” you whispered, still confused but, mysteriously, more relaxed.

“Forgive her, she doesn’t like to talk,” the doll explained, pointing at its owner in a mocking way. “Shall I tell you a secret? She's Italian too.”

“Oh, really?” you asked, looking at the lady, who nodded briefly. “Che strana coincidenza…”

“Perché strana?” that hoarse voice asked again, the voice of that mysterious lady.

“Oh, well…” you said embarrassed, of course, that doll hadn't lied to you. “No, it's nothing…”

“Che vuoi?” the lady in black asked again, her tone lighter, but reflected impatience.

“I'm, I'm a merchant,” you said again, trying to smile, making a superhuman effort to make that strange situation stop being so strange.

After all, she was the inhabitant of that place, and she was also Italian. The business seemed to call you…

“She sells a lot of things, Donna!” the doll shrieked, pointing at you. “Things you like!”

“Mm,” the woman in black murmured, looking over your shoulder at the merchandise. “Me li può mostrare?”

“Oh, sure, sure…” you said nervously, heading towards your suitcase and opening it on the floor, closely followed by that strange doll, which didn't seem to want to leave you alone.

“Look, Donna, your favorite record!” the doll squealed, rummaging through the merchandise without any kind of hesitation, under your watchful gaze, and hers.

The lady took that vinyl, observing it carefully. You almost thought you heard a slight laugh coming out of that veil.

“È, it's a special edition,” you murmured when you saw how interested she seemed to be. “You, you know… Come prima… Più di prima…” you sang in a timid and horrible way.

The veiled lady looked up with a sigh.

“Are you also a singer?” she asked with a weak, whispering voice.

You laughed nervously shaking your head, with your cheeks slightly blushed.

“No… The truth is, I’m not… Although, although they've always told me that I have a beautiful voice,” you said timidly, looking sideways as Angie rummaged through the books.

“Mm,” the lady murmured with disinterest, looking at the vinyl again.

“Donna, Donna! Nonna's favorite book!” the doll squealed, handing her one of your books in perfect condition. “Look, look, this one isn't broken!”

“I have that one on sale… If, if you're interested… Donna, right?” you said with your voice cracked by nerves, playing with your sweaty hands.

“Donna? Lady Beneviento for you, silly!” the doll snapped at you, in a haughty tone.

“Beneviento?” you asked involuntarily, knowing that you had heard that name somewhere.

Of course you heard it. Like a whisper of help, your mind recalled Luiza's words, those that explained to you the families who had founded the village. Of course, that Donna Beneviento was an important person in that place. Despite everything strange, your greed took precedence, she seemed truly interested in what you were selling.

The mysterious woman nodded slowly, leafing through that book with curiosity.

“I’m sorry, Lady Beneviento,” you said elegantly, lowering your head. You knew she was not an ordinary villager and therefore, you could not treat her as such.

“Vieni,” she whispered, gesturing for you to enter the house.

You nodded nervously, closing your suitcase and pulling it into the mansion, with an extra weight. That living doll had climbed on top of it, swinging its legs in a playful way.

“Hey, do you mind?” you said nervously. The doll, obviously, shook her head.

You groaned, still in disbelief, and when you looked again you saw something strange.

There was a portrait, a portrait hanging on the wall of the stairs. On it, there was a woman, a really beautiful, gorgeous woman with a pale face, serious eyes and black hair. Next to her, there was that puppet, the Angie doll. Would she be the lady?

Lady Beneviento cleared her throat, getting your attention, letting you know through her non-verbal language, that she didn't want you to look at that portrait. You decided to be good and obey.

“Sit down, I'll make some tea and we'll talk business,” the woman whispered, pointing to a cozy corner of that house.

“Sure... Yes, um... Thank you,” you said with a kind smile.

The woman in black looked at you for an almost awkward moment and then turned around, walking slowly towards a hallway. You followed her with your eyes until she disappeared.

It was a strange situation indeed. Perhaps you should have listened better to your survival instincts.

After what seemed like an eternity, the lady returned, serving you a cup of tea with an elegant gesture and sitting in front of you.

“Grazie…” you whispered with a grateful smile, blowing on the steaming liquid. “Truth be told, I didn't expect to find someone who spoke my language… I've never been good with English.”

“You seem to speak it quite well,” she commented, with a regal pose, barely moving, not letting anyone see for a moment what that black veil was hiding.

“I have no choice, I guess,” you sighed, shaking your head.

“Do you trade all over Europe?” she asked curiously as you opened your suitcase again, your hands shaking.

You weren’t there to chat. You had gone to do business. You couldn’t forget that.

“No, I… Well, I used to trade only in Italy,” you explained with a sad smile.

“Where in Italy are you from?” she asked again as Angie, with the suitcase open again, rubbed her wooden hands, rummaging through your stuff with an evil laugh.

You looked back at the lady, a bit confused.

“Da che parte d’Italia vieni?” the lady repeated with a slightly darker voice. “Nord, sud…?”

“Oh, yes, Well… I was born in the city of… This may seem like a joke to you but… I’m from the city of Benevento,” you said with a shy smile.

 You didn’t want her to think you were laughing at her. It was just a stupid coincidence.

“Mm, why would I think it's a joke?” she asked, with a tired sigh.

“Well, because of your… Your last name… It's quite similar, isn't it?” you said with a fake smile. “Are you from around there?”

“No,” the lady answered dryly, without bothering to shake her head. “I was born here.”

“Oh, okay…” you murmured, glancing at the doll, who was shuffling through your books. “Hey, um… be careful…” you said to the doll, who made a mocking gesture, imitating your voice in an unpleasant way. “Hey, la, la bambola…”

“Angie”

“Yes, Angie…” you repeated with a frown. “Why is she alive?”

“That's none of your business,” she said, with a cold voice, one that ran through your nerves, putting them on alert again.

“O-Okay, sorry,” you murmured, looking down.

“Do you have Italian movies?” she asked after a tense moment, one that you took advantage of to hide your embarrassment in the teacup. “Film.”

“Oh, yes, yes of course…” you said nervously, reaching for the suitcase, rummaging through your messy things due to the Angie doll, who protested with a grunt at your hand. “I have a lot of these.”

“Mm?” the lady murmured, looking at the cover confused, opening it and taking out the disc. “What is this?”

“A, a movie,” you said, clearing your throat. “A DVD.”

“DVD…” she whispered, looking at her reflection in that shiny disc, visibly confused. You couldn't believe she didn't know it. That village was definitely stopped in time. “I'm sorry, I'm afraid I don't understand you.”

“Um, well…” you said, scratching the back of your neck, wondering how you were going to explain that to this mysterious woman. She didn't seem to be joking, at all.

“Hey, it's like a mirror!” Angie squealed, climbing onto her owner's lap and comically looking at herself in the disc, turning it curiously. “I want one, Donna, I want one!”

“Ugh, va bene…” the lady whispered, putting the DVD back in its place and handing it to the doll, who jumped victoriously. “It's still not what I'm looking for.”

“What… What are you looking for?” you asked, flashing your fake saleswoman smile again.

“Don't you have any 28mm rolls?” the woman wanted to know.

You nodded confused.

“Yes… But, but they are, they are special, I mean, I mean… They are… They are molto costose, you know… They are, they are almost museum relics,” you said, taking a metal box out of the suitcase and opening it, displaying its contents.

“Fine, I want them,” she murmured, nodding and snatching the box from your hands. “Money is not a problem.”

Well, that phrase fostered a more sincere smile on your face.

“Va bene… It is…” you said nervously, taking out a notebook in which you wrote down your sales.

“I'm not finished,” she interrupted you, leaving the box on the floor. “I also want those books.”

“Those? Which ones?” you asked confused by her vague description.

“All of them,” the lady said abruptly, leaving you glued to the seat. “I've been asking the Duke for that classic novel collection for a long time.”

“The Duke? Oh, well, I'm related to him,” you said smiling, taking the books out of the suitcase and leaving them on the table.

“You?!” Angie asked in a shrill voice, getting too close to you again. “Come on! You don't look like that fat greasy guy!”

“Fat greasy guy?” you asked amused. “Well, I don't really know him, but it seems that in this village you do it quite well.”

“Oh, yes, he's a scammer!” Angie shrieked laughing amused. “Isn't he, Donna?”

“Mm…” the lady nodded, distracted by the books.

That scared you.

“Oh, I… I'm not like him. I'm always fair with prices and… Cazzo, don't think I'm trying to rip you off or anything like that… Cazzo.”

“Do you mind stopping talking like that? I don't like rude girls,” Donna snapped at you, with a dangerous, annoyed tone.

“I'm, I'm sorry, it's just that... Well, I'm not used to being understood,” you explained with a different blush, one that was accentuated when a shy laugh came out of her veil.

“It was just a joke,” she said amused, more relaxed, surely fascinated by that collection of books she was looking for so much. “Do you want some more tea?”

“Oh, yes, per favore,” you said, extending your cup towards the teapot, with a calm smile.

“I still don't know what a girl like you is doing in a place like this...” she whispered after a moment of calm silence, one that served to, little by little, get you used to that sinister atmosphere, and that doll.

“It's a long story...” you sighed, leaning back on the old sofa.

“I have time,” she said, with the same tone as you. “I'm sure you'll appreciate having a chat in your native language, right?”

“S-Sure…”

As if you had suddenly forgotten what you were doing there, or how much time you had left to leave, you began to chat calmly with that strange woman.

At first she seemed gloomy, reluctant to hold any kind of conversation but… As you explained everything that led you to the village, your concerns, your goals… Well, her attitude relaxed quite a bit.

The short, dry sentences turned into a soft voice, into shy laughs from time to time. It seemed that she had gained some confidence with you, or so that living doll hinted. After your hectic trip through Romania, a chat in your language effectively lifted your spirits, it was almost like feeling at home.

On the other hand, that erratic behavior of the lady in black never ceased to surprise you. Like the rest of the villagers, she seemed not to understand or comprehend very well the outside world, the time in which you lived.

To your surprise, she had never even set foot on Italy. Yes, her family came from there, but, incredibly, Donna had never been there. But that was not the only thing that was curious, so were the words that claimed she had never left the village.

It might seem that this woman, with money, with power, from an important family, had little or no interest in traveling, in leaving this sinister time capsule.

But that was not the case. Her words were full of sadness, her sighs, that nostalgia with which she listened attentively to your words... It seemed as if deep down she wanted to leave, as if, for some reason, her stay in the village was some kind of condemnation for her.

The mansion grew darker as time went by as you talked, sharing impressions, tastes, hobbies… It was almost as if you had just met a friend, a friend with an interesting voice, with a beautiful body, with a subtle but intoxicating lavender perfume…

Your cheeks betrayed those erratic thoughts about the lady in black and you shook your head several times.

You, a cultured girl, a fan of romance novels, always tended to idealize that kind of situations. You didn't want to believe in love at first sight, but you certainly didn't know what it felt like, if it was even possible.

No, no, no, no… You couldn't think about that, despite how attractive Lady Beneviento was to you. Everything had an end, and sooner than you would have liked, yours came.

Sighing, finishing your last cup of tea, you looked at the clock and almost choked.

“Oh, cazzo!” you said hurriedly, getting up from the sofa. “5 o'clock, if I don't hurry…”

“What's wrong?” the lady in black asked, getting up too, playing nervously with her hands.

“I'd love to stay and chat but… If I don't make it to that stupida’s bus, she will leave without me and…” you explained, gathering that was left in your suitcase. Donna had bought almost everything without thinking about it.

“Are you going to leave?” she asked in a whisper, with a voice that, at least to you, seemed sad.

You looked at her and nodded with a polite smile, extending your hand towards her, a hand that, this time, she shook briefly.

Damn, her hands were very soft…

“It's been nice meeting you, Donna,” you said kindly, turning around to walk towards the hall.

“Are you going to let her just leave? Silly Donna…” you heard the doll whisper in an indiscreet manner.

“W-Wait, wait a moment,” the nervous lady said, running to meet you, making her veil move, inducing your mischievous eyes to look at what was underneath. “D-Do you really have to go?”

“Yes,” you said with a confused look, totally innocent.

“W-Wait, I… I…” she murmured, approaching slowly. “It's dangerous to go out at night.”

“Hey, can someone explain to me what it is that scares you so much about this place? And why are there living dolls?” you asked with an impatient tone, remembering each of the villagers' warnings.

“I'll explain everything to you, but, but only if you stay with me a little longer, just a little longer,” the lady said, in a tone that sounded curiously desperate. “Per favore…”

“Please, please!” the doll repeated in a shrill tone.

“Um…” you stammered, unable to find an answer, a desire to stay that you knew existed. But that village had already given you so much trouble, you wanted to leave, but at the same time, you didn't.

Damn senseless crush… How can you even know if you really liked that woman?

“Okay,” you said, letting your words speak for themselves, sighing as you looked at your wristwatch, knowing that, even if you ran, you wouldn't make it to the bus on time. “Hai un telefono?”

The lady nodded, pointing to a small table.

You walked slowly past her, checking how, in a disturbing way, the doll and owner followed you with their gaze.

“Irina?” you asked when someone finally answered, after a few tense moments.

“Oh spaghetti, it's you!” the driver of the bus screamed. She seemed agitated, as if she was running away from something, or so you sensed, there was too much interference. “You have to… Help me! Wolves… Monsters…! Call the… Lice!”

“Cosa? I don't understand you, are you okay?” you asked with a frown, that stupid girl seemed to be in danger.

“No…! No…! Mother Miranda!”

After those screams, the call was interrupted, leaving you disoriented. Seeing you like that, Donna approached, taking the phone from your hand and hanging it slowly, as if somehow those screams hadn't surprised her.

“It seems that there are some connection problems,” Angie mocked, laughing, but stopping when the lady suddenly looked at her, as if she had said something she shouldn't. “Oops…”

“I think she wanted me to call the police… Who is Mother Miranda?” you asked confused, with your heart racing.

“She’s the leader of this village,” Donna murmured, with a somber voice. “But don't worry, she won't hurt you, I won't allow it.”

“Hurt? Um, hey, Donna, I think, I think Irina was in trouble,” you said nervously, focused on finding out what had happened.

“You'll be in trouble if you go out at night, silly! You have to stay here!” Angie yelled at you, pointing comically at the floor.

“Oh, no, no, I don't want to disturb you,” you said with a trembling voice.

Your intuition wasn't wrong at all, but... In that house, you didn't seem to be in danger.

“You're not disturbing me, I like your company,” Donna said, with her hands in front of her body, with an elegant posture, unfazed by what seemed to be the death of the bus girl. “Do you want...? Do you want to cook something for dinner?”

“Oh, um, yes, dinner... Um...” you said confused, nodding without really knowing why. “Va...Va bene...”

As if you had forgotten what had happened, as if that call hadn't taken place, you went down to that dark basement with the lady in black and started cooking. It was a fun, entertaining time.

You both shared your own recipes, your special ways of doing things. Your mind had forgotten about going home, it had forgotten where you wanted to go, why you wanted to leave. The only thing you knew was that you wanted to stay with that dark Italian Lady. You wanted to talk to her, laugh with her.

Yes, you started to believe in love at first sight, you had no doubt that it existed, you were experiencing it.

Day and night began to dance before your eyes, the sun and the moon. How long had you been there? You didn't know. Had it been days, weeks, months? You weren't sure.

Cooking, reading, watching those movies… Any excuse was good enough to forget about your problems, to forget you had a place to go back to.

 Maybe darkness had invaded you but… You had become addicted to her, to Donna Beneviento, to that strange woman and her doll, to her voice, her words, her laughter… To the lavender of her perfume…

“Sale,” Donna said, extending her hand so you could give her the jar she needed while, like so many days, like so many times, you cooked with her.

A curious routine, cooking, cleaning, sewing… Something that your own conscience used as payment for being a guest who didn't pay for her stay but… Were you really a guest? What were you?

“I've never seen anyone making pasta,” you said curiously, leaning your elbow on the counter. Donna laughed amused, shaking her head. “Well, my grandmother usually…”

“You say I'm like your grandmother?” she joked, kneading calmly.

“No, not at all,” you said, amused, looking hypnotically at that curious dough. “I buy it ready-made, it's easier and faster that way.”

“Chi va piano…”

“Va lontano…” you finished, smiling again, with that damn blush on your cheeks. “It's true, you're right, Donna.”

She glanced at you briefly, giving you another of her beautiful laughs. You were so dazed that nothing mattered anymore, only waking up in that guest room again, only going downstairs to share moments with her, only her, only Donna mattered to you.

“Wait, let me help you,” you said, picking up one of the flour sacks and putting it on the counter with a loud thud, raising a thick cloud of white dust. “Cazzo! Oh, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!”

The lady coughed, brushing the flour away with her hand, clearing her vision. It could be a comedian or a dangerous one, you didn't quite know. Her little apron was unable to stop all the flour, which landed on Lady Beneviento, including her veil.

“Tutto bene?” you asked timidly, brushing the dust out of your hair.

“Sì,” the woman in black murmured, accidentally removing her veil, shaking it in front of your wide-open eyes.

When she realized the mistake she had made, the mistake of showing you her face, she gasped nervously, shaking her head.

You stood petrified, admiring every inch of her beauty, a hidden one, one that you only sensed and you had just confirmed. No, a stupid scar couldn't be that important, it wasn't capable of hiding anything, of overcoming her beauty.

“Non… Non…” she whispered, turning around and covering her face with her hands. “Non guardami!”

“Donna, wait, wait…” you said nervously, putting a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t, don't cover yourself, You are… Sei bellisima…”

“No, no, no…” she repeated, nervously, pushing away your comforting hand. “Sei una bugiarda!”

“I'm not lying, Donna, really, I…” you said, trying to reason with those incipient sobs, with the trembling of her body.

“Now you'll want to leave… You'll make me hurt you!” she shrieked, completely out of control. You shook your head, ignoring that dangerous last sentence.

“Shh,” you whispered softly, turning her around, taking advantage of a slight moment of weakness. “I won't leave, I like being here.”

“No… Non é vero…” she said, moving away from your gaze.

You snatched the veil from her so she couldn't put it back on and, without thinking, you launched yourself at her lips, kissing them fiercely, just as you had wanted to do for a long time, you didn't know how long.

“Donna…” you sighed when you pulled away from the kiss, a messy kiss that she had a hard time joining.

Finally she did, caressing your cheeks, mouth agape by that sudden reaction, one that she was apparently also waiting for.

“You have come into my life like a savior, like a light that has passed through the darkness…” she whispered, kissing you again, losing that fear, that cowardice, the fear of being discovered, of you seeing her wounded face.

What Lady Beneviento didn’t expect, is that you would feel something for her.

“Per favore…Non partire…Rimani con me…Per sempre…” she murmured while your lips caressed each other, while the warmth of that unexpected love slowly passed through your body, until it reached your heart.

“Per sempre…”

[padfootscoldleathers]

ladies, gents, bents, non-conformants!

welcome welcome one and all to me posting about my fic and welcome to my mailbox if you want to send me stuff you'd like to see in the fic (i will consider them even if they dont make it to the fic)

this is a band au for the marauders era BUT the original marauders are not the band. let me explain.

Band: Sirius, Peter, Marlene, Dorcas (no band name yet so shoot your shot if you want to)

the marauders era characters have a LOT of different roles here. Regulus and Pandora are dancers, Mary and Peter grew up together & met Remus in highschool in America and did music but now Mary and Remus are somewhat duo singers. (i made Remus southern you'll get why in the fic) Alice is kind of an enigma but we'll get to know her. I'll show you all her colours i promise. Evan manages Mary and Remus and has such a goofy big brother personality. MINERVA the queen that she is, is basically the band's mother/manager. fluffy black brothers!! oh, and andromeda is dead.

i know what you're thinking "where the fuck is james?? lily?? barty??" hehe WELL you're not gonna like this. lily is the villain here and not in a good way. it was a VERY toxic marylily and lily is the Casual girl (chappell roan) ANYWAAAY you're gonna see a LOT of that BUT she does have her redemption arc. i think. maybe.

barty broke up with sirius 2 months before the beginning of the fic (which starts on their american tour at the last couple concerts) they grew up together, its very bittersweet, might give you heartburn. AGAIN redemption arc, they do have a heart-to-heart.

and uhh james is a very happy very sudden very scandalous surprise

ch. 1

this fic in short is the band through their last leg of the american tour when mary flies out early and sirius asks her to join them for the rest of the tour and the european tour in a couple months. mary and sirius hold each other up through harsh breakups and slowly find new love. the marauders era do a lot of dumb shit make a lot of memories. exes come back and get dragged out, maybe-soulmates enter their lives and life happens all at once. but theyre still just kids and they have a lot of laughs

don't worry guys, every couple shall get their minute of fame

basically the journey (and reflective of a couple of characters) of their life together. they find love, they find FRIENDSHIP, they find beauty in the little things, they find laughter and peace and passion. this entire fic for me was to discover all the little things, the day to day things that makes life what it is: beautiful. it's filled with jokes and family and bittersweet memories. its those moments you want to remember when you're old in your rocking chair or young on a porch swing. its all the little bright places.

ships & sexualities (let me cook)

alice - aroace bi

peter - aroace bi

mary - bisexual

pandora - pansexual

remus - bisexual

sirius - the gayest man to ever gay

regulus - transmasc gay

james - demispec pansexual

dorcas - lesbian

marlene - demisexual lesbian

lily - "not a lesbian"

barty - aroallo, gay

evan - transmasc aceallo

mary x pandora = bitterhope/pandamary/ rosemary (my roman empire)

peter x alice = palice (most beautiful qpr to ever qpr in the marauders era)

sirius x remus = wolfstar

regulus x james = sunseeker

dorcas x marlene = dorlene (they need something cooler)

evan x barty = rosekiller (gonna happen eventually though i kinda just dunno how)

i'm going to post in snips on this blog until i figure out the ao3 tags etc. main blog: @morallyundefined

@moonyswarmsweaters @sspadfoot @thingthatoncewastruee @babygirlsteddie @probs-reading

@labyrinthhofmymind @percabeth-trash @drunktayloratthevmas @cheekyboybeth

@starving-marauder-lover @yourlocalbadgerscales @taleofapart-timepoet @mirrs-ball

@tea-blankets-andstars @where-is-vivian @amberlink @wastingawayinmyroom @ashes-to-ashesxx

@equippedtolove @moon-girl88 @starregulus @siriusly-insane @jamespotterbbg

[idyllic-affections]

Your writing is so good! Thank you so much for writing platonic fics, they are so hard to find, especially in Genshin and Demon Slayer. As an Aro/Ace who is addicted to the found family trope, your blog is a haven. So if I may... can I request a Muichiro x Hashira Mentor!Reader to go along with your other fics in this series? I loved the three so far, and especially with the most recent episode, I have strong "PROTECT THE BABY" vibes for Mui. What would happen if instead of Kotetsu saving Mui, it was reader? And they were trying to protect him from Gyokko while Mui is stuck in the water, and maybe that is what gives him the strength/inspiration to break free.

no harm will come to you.

summary. ""N— no," he choked out before rapidly pulling the rest of the needles out of his body. Something in their gut twisted uncomfortably at the sight of their student so battered. "Why do you always have to be the one to save me?"" trigger & content warnings. near-death (not the reader), canon-typical blood and injury, brief mentions of throwing up. tropes, pairings, fic length, & other notes. angst to fluff-ish. muichiro tokito & hashira mentor!reader. 1.5k words. they/them pronouns for reader. author's thoughts. hello dear!! i always smile when someone says this to me. its so important to remember that not everyone enjoys romanctic content. aroace people exist and deserve to be catered to as much as any other people do. i love being a safe space for people who just... dont want romantic content. i dont reblog romantic content (unless its canon x canon ship content, but even thats rare), i dont interact with romantic content. i just bring a spotlight exclusively to platonic content. not everyone has to do that, and thats totally fine, but i do so and will continue to do so. anyways pls keep sending mui requests, i love him so much awajshskgj <3

       "Mui-kun!"

       'That voice...'

       "Hey! I'm here, okay?!" Their blood was ice in their veins, heart pounding as hard against their rib cage as their feet did against the ground. "I'm here now! Just ho— just hold out a little longer! I'll get you out of this shit!"

       "Yeah! We'll— we'll get you out of this shit!" Kotetsu echoed from his place situated on their back. Their arms were hooked around his legs to keep him in place, while his arms squeezed around their neck to balance himself a little better. They pinched his thigh scoldingly.

       "Don't repeat that! You're ten!"

       'Ah... it's [Surname]-sama... and Kotetsu-kun..?'

       Heavy pants left their lips as they skidded to a stop, falling to their knees in front of their poor, incapacitated Tsuguko. Kotetsu was quick to slide off of their back, settling beside them. "Shit... what the fuck?" they cursed under their breath, palm pounding against the cage of water, only to be met with ferocious rebound. Their pupils were blown wide with terror, the gloss of unshed tears making their eyes shimmer in the moonlight. Dragging their sword against the water's surface had no effect. The young boy mimicked their motions, simply with a knife instead. His efforts had no effect either. "The fuck is this? Why isn't it breaking? It's just water... why..?"

       'Come to think of it... I've never seen [Surname]-sama cry, have I? They look so stressed.'

       "Tokito-san, we won't let you die!" Kotetsu shouted. Beneath his mask, tears formed in the corners of his eyes. "Hang in there! What is this?!" He threw his whole body weight against the water, only to bounce back just as they had. "What the hell is this, [Surname]-san?! It's all rubbery and gross!"

       "I don't know! I know as much as you do, okay?! I may be a Hashira but that doesn't mean I automatically know everything!"

       The heat bubbling just beneath the surface of their skin was unbearable. In their panicked haze, they didn't notice the unfamiliar markings manifesting on their skin. As soon as they appeared, they were gone, fading from their flesh with no trace left behind. It was like they had never been there in the first place.

       It seemed that they had a hard time maintaining their enhanced state when panicked and unfocused.

       'You two have bigger priorities than me right now. Protect the chief, [Surname]-sama. Not me. That would be beyond Kotetsu-kun, but not you.'

       Muichiro's eyes widened. His palm pounded furiously on the water, hoping to get at least one of the two's attention. Thankfully, he knew his mentor well enough to know how attentive they were. They reacted immediately, head whipping around to face whatever it was that he saw approaching from behind them.

       It was only a small demon in comparison to the size of their body, hardly reaching up to their knee, but they knew better than to make assumptions about its power based solely on its size.

       It came from an Upper Moon.

       Surely, then, it was imbued with at least a fraction of said Upper Moon's strength.

       "Kotetsu-kun, get behind me!" they commanded, snatching up their blade from the ground. "Now!"

       A sharp gasp was torn from their throat when an equally sharp pain pierced their side. In their frantic state, it seemed that they were at a disadvantage, slowed down by their overwhelming worry. If Muichiro had screamed, the water had swallowed the sound up entirely; even so... the absolute horror on his face was surely enough to clue one in on his thought process. They winced, swinging their blade with enough force to behead the demon. It dissipated within an instant.

       "[Surname]-san!" Kotetsu shouted, stepping back in shock of the sheer amount of blood that spilled from their lips.

       "Fuck this whole mission," they muttered, bitter and tired, drawing in the deepest breath they could manage to in spite of the pain that struck their whole body like lightning when they did.

       They exhaled into the vase of water.

       'Even when you're bleeding out...'

       Muichiro inhaled the oxygen they provided him with.

       'You still come to my rescue. I should be embarrassed. Let me help you for once.'

       "Kotetsu-kun! Get down!" they shouted out, leaping forward to shield his much smaller body with their own. His little hands immediately went to their side to put pressure on the wound they sustained.

       Upon feeling their back drench with freezing water, they dove away from Kotetsu, catching their injured Tsuguko in their arms.

       "I've got you, I've got you..." they whispered over and over like a mantra of sorts, perhaps in an attempt to console themselves rather than the coughing Hashira in their embrace. No mind was paid to the spines poking their skin, nor the way Muichiro spat up a concerning amount of water over their shoulder. They did, however, take note of the way he made desperate attempts to apologize for practically throwing up on them. "It's okay, it's fine, just get all the water out of your lungs. It's not a big deal."

       All they truly paid attention to was the fact that he was breathing.

       Alive.

       However, he was weak. Terribly weak.

       "You've gone numb," they observed as he ripped a spine from his cheek, arms trembling. "I've got you. I've got the rest from here. You need to rest."

       "N— no," he choked out before rapidly pulling the rest of the needles out of his body. Something in their gut twisted uncomfortably at the sight of their student so battered. "Why do you always have to be the one to save me?"

       "I'm your mentor. It's my job. I teach you. I protect you. That's how this relationship works," they replied, standing up on shaky legs and taking their blade with them. They watched as more of the demons gathered around. "No harm will come to you for as long as I live."

       Aching.

       That's all they could feel on one side of their body. The pain was enough to make them double over. They squeezed their eyes shut, expression contorting into a pained grimace. One hand pressed deeply into their wound in a desperate attempt to make it stop. "Fuck..."

       They were already injured enough as it was from battles earlier on in the night.

       Muichiro could read his mentor like an open book.

       The book in question read nothing but agony. They were in no condition to keep fighting, and yet, neither was he.

       Even so...

       The rage he once felt three years ago boiled over again. It flooded the entirety of his veins, searing his skin and clouding his thoughts, stealing away the momentary clarity and reprieve from the haze in his mind. Muichiro clutched his sword with newfound rage.

       'Stay away from [Surname]-sama.'

       In an instant, the demons were all beheaded, dissipating into nothing but ash and dust.

       "Mui— Mui-kun, listen to me," they choked out in a gasp with sudden urgency, as if they had remembered something extremely important. "The swordsmiths. Haganezuka-sama and Kanamori-san. They're— we need to go back for them. Upper Moon Five is still..."

       "...You didn't get rid of him?"

       Their eyes softened impossibly. "I... I didn't. I am selfish sometimes, Mui-kun, and you... you were my priority. I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I had left you. Please understand where I'm coming from."

       "I should be mad at you."

       "...Yes. You should be, and I wouldn't hold it against you if you were."

       A heavy silence settled for a moment. Not even Kotetsu dared disturb it.

       Then, with tender delicacy, the Mist Hashira wrapped his arms around their torso, laying his head on their chest. He was especially adamant on avoiding causing any further irritation to their injury. The firm beating of their heart was deeply comforting to him (he did, however, note the worrying wheeze that came every time they exhaled). "...I'm not, though."

       It was as if a weight was lifted off of their shoulders. They softly wrapped their arms around his shoulders. "I'm glad, then. Thank you."

       "No..." the boy trailed off, withdrawing from their embrace. Much to their surprise, he bowed in front of them. "Thank you, [Surname]-sama. I might not have made it out if not for you. I'm sorry for being so troublesome. I overestimated my skill, simply because I am a Hashira. I should have known better. You taught me better than that."

       An embarrassed laugh left their lips as they scratched the back of their neck. "Hey... you, um, you don't have to do that. You can stand up. It's okay. That's why we build bonds the way we do; we all mess up sometimes, so we need people we can reliably fall back on." As he rose, they hummed. "I can't quite put my finger on it, but... something about you has changed."

       He smiled. Such a gentle, sincere smile... it suited his face, but it was an expression they were not accustomed to seeing on him. He said nothing in response to them, however.

       'I'll tell you everything once we're out of here.'

       "...Shit! The swordsmiths! Mui-kun, come on! Grab Kotetsu-kun! Let's go!"

please consider reblogging, it helps me out quite a lot!

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

wibta if I told my best friend they can no longer move in with my family next year?

Me (17f) and my friend (17) have been friends for about 5 years. Around 6 months ago we were discussing university and they mentioned they wanted to study at the university that is in my city. We discussed them potentially moving into my house while they study here. They would still be paying rent, it would just be a bit cheaper for them and we would get to live together. I discussed this with my parents and after a while they said yes. 

The problem is recently I haven't actually been feeling very supported or understood by my friend. This feeling kinda started when I expressed doubt about being able to succeed in the career I have been working towards because my mental health is shit and idk if I can deal with the pressure involved, and they said that they were glad I reached this conclusion myself because they didn't think I could do it either. Which kinda hurt yk like they were correct and I have switched plans as of now, but I feel they couldve been nicer. Other than that I feel like neither of have done anything wrong I just think this is an aging thing, we're no longer 13 and have changed in similar ways, but I've begun to realise the way we see the world is vastly different. Also we recently keep getting into petty arguments, which is kinda my fault bc im autistic and have very strong opinions and never know when to shut up, but they're also like that we're both just very stubborn and opinionated people. Basically I feel the friendship isn't as strong as it once was and I don't like the idea of having to live with them during uni (also dont really like the idea of living with anyone tbh I fucking hate socialising and want to live alone). 

I feel like it's important to mention that although them living with me is cheaper, their family is financially very stable so they could comfortably afford to live in the uni halls or some apartment. Telling them they can't live with me wouldn't be financially that bad, its more so that I said they could and I feel that going back on my word might be quite cruel? 

Also recentlyish we've been making plans of living together and buying a house etc and yeah basically a lot of commitments have been made at a young age and I feel quite trapped. Also feels relevant to add that this feeling is definitely not mutual and they have no idea I feel this way, I'm 99% sure they are still very eager to go through with all this. I'm generally quite a communicative person, it's just these are all pretty new feelings and I'm not sure exactly what I feel.

Also sorry another thing that's probably relevant, they're aroace and our relationship idk what it is but I think it kinda goes deeper than the average friendship its kinda like a qpr but not lol.

So yeah wibta if I told them they couldn't live in my house for uni and should find somewhere else?

What are these acronyms?

[religion-trauma]

ya know. as a kid, i didn't think i'd make it past 18. (tw suicide mention and suicidal ideation, no actual suicide thankfully)

yeah, a kid, maybe like 9 years old? 2 years after my long term memory kicked in, after i achieved Consciousness, after I realized I existed. at 9 years old I realized I'm going to die. and I also realized, I'm going to have to get married. (context: i'm aroace, dont want any sort of romantic relationship, sex repulsed. always have been)

there was no other option. nothing presented to me. staying single? i hadn't met an adult not in a relationship (that i knew of) back then. no one told me I could just not. because you have to. everyone falls in love. eventually.

if I wanted to get into the highest caste of heaven, to get with my family in the afterlife, I'd have to get married. and that fucking terrified me.

so when I realized I'm going to die, I was relieved. there's a way out. if I die too young to get married I don't have to get married. I can get in the highest caste if I just... try my best until then. right?

so i fantasized about getting shot in the head on my way from school, getting hit by a car, falling out of a rollercoaster, falling and hitting my neck at the right angle. i didn't go out of my way to do it, just... thought about it happening.

and then i hit I think 10/11. and i learned what suicide was. and my depression... hadn't thought of that. before then I'd been banking on a tragedy, something easy. but now, now I had a plan B.

when I got older, I realized this was all bullshit. I realized that this fucking religion drove a child to suicidal ideation. I realized that caste systems shouldn't fucking exist in heaven. And I realized, I don't feel safe at church. So i stopped believing what the people there told me.

Yet the thought persisted. I wouldn't make it to 18. The depression didn't go away once I realized this religion was bullshit, it just got worse. because i felt like i was trapped, because the church wasn't just restrained to a single building.

nearly every single person in my school went to seminary. they had necklaces of temples. they'd give people with more than 2 piercings weird looks. they'd gawk about lgbt people. they were upstanding church citizens, and expected me to be one as well.

and obviously this extended to marriage. what will you wear to your wedding? what's your type? are you going to go to college or settle down? how many kids do you want?

even though i didn't believe i'd end up in a lower caste, separated from my family, without a ring on my finger, that didn't stop others from believing it.

When a teenager is completely and utterly alone, but cannot tell anyone of that lest they are even more isolated, what do you think they're going to want to do?

there'd be something to break the camel's back, surely? i won't have to think farther than my senior year, right? i won't have to live in a world where i'm alone... right?

but I was wrong. i got therapy, i got more support. but now that i'm past 18 I've realized i've been waiting to die young for so long that i don't know what to do with myself now that i'm not a child waiting to die anymore.

it's like i'm a character who was supposed to die, but didn't, and now the author has no idea what to do with me. i guess we'll go ahead with their wants from before their death? but what's after that? i have no idea. i have no other plans beyond college. and probably getting a job. maybe i'll die before i have to figure it out.

[brionysea]

Just finished watching stranger things. Is bad that I find El/Eleven a little overrated and over hyped? I dont hate her character. Its just the other characters are more interesting and relatable. She's just not my favorite. Plus the actress is not my favorite either. Love Sadie Sink as Max though. She's my favorite character. Joyce is second.

nah, i've said almost this exact thing before. millie's acting is like, genuinely impressive, especially in season 1 because they were all so young at the time (and i make an effort not to get parasocial and weird about actors in the first place because... what's the point? they're just doing their jobs) (That Man's face has started to annoy me though), but el herself is just like... there. she's badass and all, girlboss girlpower girlslay, but that's kind of it?? and other characters do it better tbh. this might be why MBB is so sick of playing and being known for eleven; a lot of it does seem quite boring to film, and stranger things has been going on for years of her life at this point

i've found a level of relatability with el recently because i realised her arc is realising that she doesn't need romantic love in her life to be a whole person, which is HUGE for me because aroace characters are still so rare, but even then it's just like... okay :) that's nice :) because there's not that much TO her

el is just kind of... blank. in terms of backstory and character. she doesn't feel like a real person who could exist in the real world. she literally grew up in a mostly white room with a few rainbows on the walls, and a key competent of her overall story is that she has no idea who she is - which makes you feel for her as she tries to figure it out, but also makes it harder to connect with her. they're all fictional characters but even within that context, el is a fictional character, because no one's life looks like that, y'know? (at least not the backstory. the part where she has no idea who she is is kinda relatable, but if i'm already living that why would i also want to watch it? i already know that it's not that interesting. it's actually incredibly dull)

so many badass female characters look like el, where they have to be trained their whole lives to be badass while male characters can just pick things up, with the sexist implication being that women are inherently less adaptable and capable than men unless A Man turns her into a weapon through years of training, and then she can be badass. the show is aware of this trope, because they combat it by having nancy as the regular girl next door who learns to be a badass like the men typically would (jonathan tries to, but he's a terrible shot, and then they realise that nancy's a phenomenal one), but when you put el next to nancy and max and robin who are all so much more grounded and relatable to me as female characters (who i always feel more of a connection to, because they're Like Me), obviously i'm gonna go for them more

+ max and joyce are probably my favourites too :)

[our-hypersexual-experience]

Hey-

idk if this happens, but when I was young (quite young actually) I did have s3xually intrusive thoughts ( I believe- I read the Bridgerton series--it has smut in it. When I was relatively young say 9,10,11ish and I started thinking about that stuff and doing it w/ myself and I thought about what other people and what it looked like at inappropriate times.) (It probably did help because I banned myself from reading those things by literally preventing the access of me to them, so I feel like I've gotten better about the thoughts.)

I do think I am aroace so it's confusing. I'm still questioning.

Could you help explain some of what happens with hypersexuality?

Let me know what you think.

-🌻

For me, hypersexuality is when I get sexual intrusive thoughts when sex is brought up in conversation, hinted at, or sometimes when I take showers/baths. I actually had a couple today and was able to resist it, more so cuz I was in public but yk. You can be aroace and hypersexual. I'm ace spec and probably arospec too, being demisexual and most likely demiromantic. Banning yourself from those types of books is a way to recover so good job on that part. I honestly dont know how to restrict myself from what makes my sexual intrusive thoughts happen-

Thanks for the ask!

[romaritimeharbor]

Ah ok, i’ll probably wait until you finally played the chapter, i still need to fine tune them a bit anyway so i dont mind. Although this does remind me of something.. Oh right, I’ve been wanting to talk about your OC Hestia since i saw your post about her! here are my questions about her:

1. Did La Signora teach Hestia about her magic? Like her Flame witch magic she has?

2. Does she know Eir? If she does, what are her thoughts about them since you mentioned Eir being close with La Signora?

3. How did she get her Vision?

4. What would her DnD Alignment be?

5. Does she possess a delusion? If she does, what element is it?

6. I immediately recognized her name is from a greek god who is the Goddess of hearth and home, does she have any connection to the House of Hearth?

- 🐱 Anon

gotcha! take your time, then. i'll make sure to post about penacony when i do get around to playing it so that you know when i've started <3 YAY OC QUESTIONS ❗️❗️❗️❗️❗️

la signora did not teach hestia about her magic. however, having suspected that her inazuma mission may not go as intended (she literally attended the akademiya, so i truly and wholeheartedly believe that la signora is not a foolish woman. she is just a prideful person), she wrote a letter for hestia's eyes only, in which she explained herself—her past, the pain she has endured, and how hestia can learn her magic, so that hestia might continue the legacy she left behind. hestia is now in the process of learning her magic. it is a... difficult process, to say the least, but hestia does not feel angry or upset over the fact that she cannot master it immediately; if anything, she feels as if this learning process is bringing her closer to her mother figure than she had ever been before. hestia will certainly be a force to be reckoned with once she does master it.

hestia does know eir! eir is one of hestia's most adored and trusted allies. she often travels alongside them, and eir will often end up telling her the stories of their long gone nation. eir also helps hestia with mastering la signora's magic. as a historian, a scholar, and a (formerly royal) healer, eir is well-acquainted with magic and its intricacies. their help is invaluable.

i'm still thinking deeply about this one!! but right now, i'm thinking that maybe she's had it since she was little, since before la signora found her and her father. it isn't unheard of for children to have visions (klee diona sayu qiqi etc), and i think hestia has many good reasons that would validate her having a vision at such a young age—namely, the need to protect her sickly father from snezhnaya's everlasting winter.

chaotic neutral i think! she lives by her own agenda with no care for authority or rules. her freedom of choice comes first and she will not tolerate anyone getting in her way. BUUTTT she is also contradictory to this type in some ways (e.g., hestia would go out of her way to help people if she felt compelled to; many chaotic neutrals do not do this), so maybe chaotic good? honestly i feel that hestia leans more into chaotic neutral because she has more of those traits than chaotic good ones.

she had a delusion at one point, but left it behind when she abandoned the fatui. i haven't decided on the element, because i want it to be symbolic somehow. maybe anemo or geo?

she doesn't actually! i chose her name in reference to the hearth and home she built with la signora. and also because of her pyro vision. there are some other things (like her lack of interest in romance & intimacy; she is a romance-neutral and sex-negative aroace person), but it was mainly about her relationship with la signora. her name is mostly symbolic! so no, she does mot have any relation to the house of the hearth or arlecchino.

[lawtistic]

is this a vent? kind of? its more of a fuck you to aphobes

its genuinely SO stupid and irritating when people say aros and aces arent valid or real because things like sex and romance are part of human nature, and someone can't just not experience that, because it's so stupid

i spent all my life before october of 2022 expecting love to come to me. i was in relationships i percieved as genuine and i expressed as genuine despite this constant cloud looming over my head that the relationship is a fraud somehow

i never cried when i got broken up with, every kiss i ever had i sat and i waited to end, everything was such a turn off and i became so picky, i moved way too fast, and came off too strong. i waited to find someone i could cry over, someone who's touch didnt make me shrivel up inside and someone who made me feel secure, but that person never came, and even though i was, and still am, young, i thought there was something wrong with me.

i thought finally finding the aroace label would be the end of it, but it wasn't. to this day, i sit here and hope that it's wrong because even though deep down, i know that's who i am, i dont want it to be. all of my life i've wanted love, but I've never felt it. but i so desperately cling onto it because i want to, so desperately. the day i felt like i was aroace was so suffocating because it denied me of so many things i considered living, and i could never be normal. i could never have date nights, wedding days far in the future, and live my life with someone because that's not how im wired.

even i sit here in my queerplatonic relationship knowing its going to end because they're not fully aro, and i know them, and theyre going to want that lifestyle, and thats something that, no matter how hard i try, i cant provide for them.

and for people to go out and say what i and so many other people feel and go through because of our identities isn't real is genuinely disgusting to me. because how dare you say all that I've gone through emotionally isn't real. i'm making it up. it's all fake. do you have any idea how i feel? how badly i wish i could agree with you? my aroace pride is not pride, and if i really did have that choice to be like you, i would. in a heartbeat. but i dont have that choice.

anyway sorry if this is worded weird its 9pm meaning i should have been in bed like 6 hours ago

[ketchup-monthly]

🎶 and ✅️ for the fanfic ask meme? :)

hehehe! into the fray i go again! thank you!!

🎶 Do you listen to music while you write? What song have you been playing on loop lately?

-i dont necessarily listen to music when i write, like maybe i'll have some music going in the background because i need at least a low level of noise at all times or i'll go insane, but i know rn i'm listening to jazz radio on pandora because my brother put it on like 7 hours ago and its still going. i'm a huge fan of the classical composer Holst and his suite The Planets, and i'll listen to that when im writing or need to focus on whatever it is that i'm doing (Jupiter was my school song in high school and is actually one of my favorite classical songs because it's very lovely)(link here bc i have to share it)(this is a link to a playlist of the rest of the suite)

-i mostly just have the tv on if im writing at home, and then i'll usually put something like s1 of Lois and Clark, Green Lantern: the Animated Series, Tanked, some random cooking show, or Mysteries at the Museum. or whatever my youtube recommends. depends on how im feeling each day and how much i'll need to actually focus on my fic.

-i do listen to music when im driving for work, and currently im working my way through The Crane Wives and The Orion Experience's albums (i already finished Waterparks)

✅ What's something that appears in your fics over and over and over again, even if you don't mean to?

-Hal and Barry's cat, Goose. she's an orange kitten and Wally is allergic to her.

-kissies. lots of halbarry kissies

-guy gardner is really good with kids and also he has a dog named shark who is a retired k9 unit. also he watches soap operas and romance movies even tho hes totally aroace

-idk if its something that people even notice in my halbarry fics, but hal is jewish. tbh i think i mean to include it more but totally forget

-kryptonians are fucked up. so are speedsters. so are lanterns.

-hal is old-man core. he just is. its amazing and i love him. he also has a bad leg and has to use a cane sometimes bc he got an injury that healed very wrong when he was a young lantern

-also wally and kyle are basically always like...9 and 7 respectively in my fics about the halbarry family because idk. fun ages. theyre still little but they can talk and think. idk when they'll get older

-this is more in my aus that i haven't written but hopefully will eventually, but giving bruce's kids to literally anyone else. i have an au where the only kids bruce keeps are dick and damian and maybe duke. i have another where duke is trained/fostered by alan scott and his husband, and another where duke is trained/fostered by midnighter and eventually apollo. the au where the only kids bruce gets are dick and dami and duke is the same one where all the other batkids are taken in by various gotham rogues. i have aus where tim is trained/taken in by dinah lance and her mom dinah drake, kon is adopted by alan scott, roy is adopted by dinah and his her sidekick instead of olivers, billy is adopted by lex luthor, kon stays with lex luthor and is raised by him along with lexs daughter who is kons half twin, billy is adopted by clark and hal and sorta guy and the rest of the red lanterns that i like, clark is found by the gls when hes a baby and is raised by kilowog, etc etc etc. bestie i have so many aus and i could talk about them for ages (edit: i also have one where jason is adopted by john constantine and etrigan the demon without jason bloods knowledge)

-sorry most of those were about halbarry and their family lol. im writing a lot of that this year

thanks for the ask!!! <3

[magical-girl-04]

I first thought I might be ace at 13 too actually. It was that sort of age everyone else seemed to start getting sexual feelings for each other. I gave it a couple of years to kick in and ultimately decided to label as ace.

I am now 18 (19 tmmr actually-) and honestly I think I've shifted from being alloromanic ace to being allosexual aro lol.

I used to crave a romantic relationship, going on dates, holding hands the cutesy stuff. But only recently I kinda gave up on that cuz I just don't have the time and energy to like actively search for love. And I realised I just? Don't care as much? Like the yearning has always come in waves so maybe it'll come back at some point.

But like I've also gone from being like repulsed at the idea of sex, to being curious about it in a 'why dies everyone care so much about this' kinda way, and like wanting to try it out once or twice, to now where I kinda maybe want to have sex? And I maybe really don't care much about who the partner is? Idk it also comes and goes in waves.

So maybe I'm grey aroace?? That's the right word I think, it comes and goes rather than being like a set state?

I have gone completely off topic here rip. My point is that yeah I agree. I dont know how strong I am on keeping the ace label now (tbh I've continued to identify with it partly becuz I love the flag lol) but no matter what I decide at the end of this haze, I will never regret using the label of ace since I was a young teen. It gave me confidence. It meant I felt no pressure to try and join in with my peers and have sex when I wasn't interested. It meant I felt like I was perfectly normal rather than outcast from everyone else. And even if I think I might be shifting now, I know that, at that moment and for a good few years after, I was in fact ace. This shit changes all the time!! Sexuality and gender are fluid as fuck! And sure there are also cases where we don't know what we feel and do use the wrong labels, I thought for a few years I was bi till I accepted I'd never be interested in a man like at all. But that does not mean I was invalid for using bi as a label! We're allowed to make mistakes! Hell there are so many stories of other people going through the same thing, thinking they're bi then realising they're gay/les or the opposite way. What makes thinking your ace or aro and being wrong about it so bad??? Why are adults so intent on sexualising children?? Becauase honestly I cant see it any other way.

I went on a bit of a tangent again sorry. But end of thr day, no matter what age you are or if you think you might change your mind later on, you are always valid to use whatever labels make you comfortable! Especially identifying as asexual and/or aromanic.

Unpopular (?) opinion:

When I was young and wondering why I hadn't experienced a crush yet, the internet said I was probably just a late bloomer. They urged me not to identify as aroace because I could change my mind later on.

And looking back, like… so?

If I had been a late bloomer, who cares?

I was 13. I felt comfort in the aroace community. I didn’t feel like a weirdo for once in my life, surrounded by people who were like me. But I was urged to not join these communities until I became an adult in case I changed my mind about being ace. So I didn’t. And I paid for that.

Who cares? If you’re young and feel like you’re aroace, then you’re aroace. If you “change your mind” later, it’s okay. No one is going to be born and know themselves 100%. I genuinely thought I was alloromantic once, but now know I’m not.

Speaking from experience, I would rather have kids be “wrong” about their sexuality than feel like they have no place of belonging.

We shouldn’t gatekeep aroace folk because of their age. It hurts. It makes kids feel like they are the freaks society tells them they are.

[mintchocolateships]

i'm gonna vent in the tags bc i don't have a therapist lol

[cowboyjen68]

Hi Jen, and hello every butch reading this. I need your help.

I don't know where to begin, this has veen a problem for me for almost a decade now. I've followed you (Jen) for a few years now, and you're a very comforting figure to my brain, so I was hoping you and possibly others could help me out a bit. If not answers, then some good advice, open mindedness, patience, and possibly links to resources and helpful places. I've wanted to reach out to older butches and such about my issues with gender for a while, because I've flipped between a few and always have my mind coming back to butch in some form or another. Whether I act on it between each circle back or not, it stays.

I came out as some flavor of trans around 13, and then moved towards binary FtM around 14 or 15, which is when I met my first partner ever. I've had a ton of jumps back to being just kind of butch but in a weird middle butch state of not lesbian, not ftm, not anything but butch. I grew up in the midwest for 10 years (starting at 10,) and came out as a lesbian at 11 or 12. Regardless of how I was identifying in highschool, I was bullied and catcalled as a lesbian my whole childhood, seen as a d/ke, called it, I got the worst of it all, had girls try to kick my ass and dudes try to "turn me." I hung out with the fem cishet alt girls half my height and half my weight, carried them around, I was the ugly tall bitch that protected them. Had a wicked shaved head, wearing mens clothes handmedown, mens boots, brought a swiss army knife everywhere and my own wallet and housekeys. Getting pencils thrown at my head, smoking weed in the girls room, forced to change in the gender neutral stall for gym cause the school didnt know what to do with me. Guys would honk as they went past and shout dyke at me, so I started trying to blend in with highlighter shirts and jeans etc. Typical midwestern shit. I feel that despite now living as a man, i had the lived experience since a very young age (even before moving to the midwest,) of a butch. I am now fully living life as a cis man, stealth, and dating an amazing queer trans dude whose possibly genderfluid, and also very fem. He also identified as a lesbian for a long time and experienced a lot of toxicity there, and was nonbinary in his past, and I met him when he was agender and queer. He's amazing, I'm going to marry him, and he's everything I love in a partner. Feminine, went to cosmetology school, pretty nails, chubby, likes to bake and shop and wants to cook me steak, wants me to carry his stuff and his groceries, calls me his scary dog privleges, wants to scratch my sideshave. He realized he was trans and came out after we met, and I've been his biggest support against everything else, and I always will be. I love him, I'm attracted to him and he's the only person i ever have been. So I dont think I qualify anymore as a butch, despite using the term and being a butch for so many years. I was a butch, I still feel it even if I'm not really into many people at all including women (also on the aro/ace spectrum haha), but now I'm a man, I have a beard, I have a boyfriend I will never leave, who knows how I feel and loves me and we both know no matter where we end up gender wise or sexuality wise that pretty much me and him are it, and if it contradicts, who gives a shit, yknow?

My dating history has always been feminine nbs, feminine trans boys, and femme lesbians. I have never dated a masculine cis man, masculine nb, anyone masculine at all. For lack of better terms due to my situation, I have always been butxh4femme and at least masc4fem. I have always been the guardian and gentle giant of my fem partners, I also am mostly a stone butch due to sexual trauma and asexuality. Due to my aroace-ness, I've also hardly dated literally anyone lmao! Maybe 3 people longterm and seriously in my entire 21 years. This is getting really long, and I'll be honest, I've been yelled out of all communities I've been in for being so damn complicated. I'm scared I'll hurt mt partner and he'll feel I don't see him as he is, I'm scared I'll hurt lesbians despite living and growing as one most of my life, I'm scared I'll hurt me by identifying as butch because I feel like I'll have to detransition. I also kinda look fuck ugly without a beard nowadays, cause lord knows I've shaved that shit fullon twice now because of this exact issue.

I want to be called sir, and I love being on T. I hate getting a period, and my bottom dysphoria is agonizing, but I probably wont get bottom surgery. I want to not be catcalled. I want to get top surgery eventually, and maybe I don't want a full beard. I wanna cut all the sleeves off my shirts again and get some sexy workboots and jeans. I know I want my pretty femboy boyfriend on my arm forever, I don't care how he ends up identifying or me either, and to see him wear his dress on our wedding day. I want to be butch but still be seen as a man, but I don't think I'm allowed because so many people have shit on me for it and said I'm not. But I still wear my keys on my belt. I still lift the heavy shit, emotionally or physically, every day for him. I still do my role, I still protect the people around me. But I don't want people to look at me when I say butch and assume me or my boy are women, out of respect for him and me too.

Advice needed, please, anybody that's willing to help me and help me find my path. It's been so back and fourth so long. Thank you.

- R

i am sorry for taking so long. Fall is a very busy season with all my jobs ramping up and getting ready for winter on the homestead.

Your writing was a lot to absorb and I admit I read it several times and had to come back because it weighed on my emotions and heart heavily. I was driving tractor last night so I had lot of thinking time. I went over in my head how you much feel, how I could possibly answer this with any coherant advice or even just some comforting words.

You are only 21, my advice if you were my child (i have 3--25 year olds, a 22 year old and a 16 yo), would be to slow your roll. 3 serious relationships by 21 is a lot. At a time when we are sort of socially and mentally programmed to be free and using our energy to exlplore our individuality you were putting efforts into maintaining viable relationships with other people who were probably also trying to figure themselves out. I was 23 before I even had one serious relationship and i was probably still NOT ready for it.

When we never live a single life or a life on our own it becomes hard to separate who we are from our partner. It is normal to bounce off of each other and to both want badly to share the same values, identity and interestes EVEN if as individuals those things might never have lined up.

I am NOT a therapist nor can I possibly know you or your exact feelings, I can only go by what you told me. When I am asked for advice I am honest but kind, go from my experiences and or those stories I have been told by friends. Sometimes what I say is NOT what you want or expected to hear. That is okay. You can take what I say or leave it. Or use what helps, ignore what doesn't . So here it goes.

My point about you both meeting young,and thus relying on each other to work on your individuality comes into play here. You are both, I am guessing around 21. Neither of you have had any time to forge exactly who you are. Stastically what are the chances of two women who both lived as a lesbian meeting after you transitioned  and the partner ALSO being trans but not coming out until AFTER the fact. Until after the relationship has progessed.? Speaking in terms of how many trans people are in the population that feels like quite a statistical anomally. What are the chances? Now I suck and math and I know the percentage of any given population in the LGBT+  community as compared to greater society seems sketchy, based on shitty research and at best a bad guess. It just gives me a bit of pause and might give you some food for thought, a chance to think over outside influence vs life long dysphoia or other factors. 

 I preface this by saying I can in no way know you or your partner or pasts or any actual feelings, only what you have told me. I appreciate your stark honesty and your willingness to admit you are struggling. Reaching out is hard even as an anon. Is it in any way possible your partner was influenced heavily by wanting badly to share your life, your values, to feel more inline with you and to feel more close to you and to solidify the relationship in a space that she perceives as more comfortable to you. OR perhaps even your friend group?  

You talk aboout pressure from all sides to be this or be that and if you are a trans man I am sure she was getting not too subtle pressure to not use lesbian even though she was maybe just fine with that, it felt right. There is a vicious push from inside the house to tell people how to describe their sexuality and relationship when it is no one’s business. Others feel uncomfortable when two people live their lives as they see fit and don’t rely on how people perceive them to be happy. It makes some people nuts  in fact. 

To your concern about detransitioning or not or what makes you happy. I know detransitioners and they slide just fine back into the lesbian community they used to have or they have found their own new lesbians friend group. It is not impossible. At many events I have been to in my life, women’s festivals included, there were tans men there who lived soley as men outside the protective walls of women spaces but were happy to be seen as women within the safety of the limited time and space of the event. You can find community among lesbian no matter how you land, it just takes a little bravery and ultimately being okay with yourself. 

I am not going to tell you it is easy no matter the path you choose. Reidentifying as a woman with a full beard and staying on T is never going to be as easy as just saying “I am THIS “. You would have to spend time coming back out, explaining etc until such a time you formed a community who knows you and understands your past. 

Everything you described that you love is everything I love about being butch, I am short, 5′3 so I didn’t experience some things like you have as tall woman in high school, BUT I was definitely clocked as a lesbian even with great effort to be seen has just wearing “typical midwestern shit”. My entire wardrobe was T shirts, sweatshirts, jeand and tennis shoes. I gave up my beloved cowboy boots because others said they made me “look even more like a boy” and in the 1980′s I tranlated that to “butch lesbian” even if I did not have those words. I knew damn well what they were inferring.  

I also know lesbians who take T and remain in the lesbian community, they just feel they need to pass more as men in the larger world for their peace of mind, safety, job, whatever. So deciding that lesbian and butch is right for you does not mean you can’t continue to utilize tools that help you to feel okay. 

This is getting a bit long and I will admit I am unendingly biased, I have never denied that and don’t hide the fact that I think being a butch lesbian is wonderful. GIven all the factors and insecurities you have shared with me being a butch seems like the path of least resistance. Cutting back on T, not constantly worrying about “am I or am I not” and getting back to the basics of what you seemed to understand as you were coming out, before there was transitioning on your table. EVEN in the face of bullying and knowing being a lesbian was not desirable to the outside world you could not escape it and you came out. Perhaps because when you can’t escape you meet something head on and embrace it since that pulls power from the outsiders. 

When you and your partner are alone, away from all others. In the safety of you bed, talking softly and about your day or your plans tomorrow, the world gets no say. You both know that is true in your hearts and please don’t let those in the world, in our own community poison that with pressure and accusations. DO NOT give them control of  your heart, of your love. 

Best of luck and butch hugs to you.

[aroaceconfessions]

Im (probably) aroace and while I'm happy with myself this way, I am also a very maternal person and would really want to have kids in the future - I just have that parental instinct that a lot of people who never want children don't have. First - I feel like being aroace has made me very understanding toward people who sincerely do not want children because I think of the 'drive' or 'instinct' to want children as very similar to experiencing sexual attraction - it's very hard to explain, it's simply true, and a very fundamental aspect of myself. But being aroace, I know what it's like to be lacking an instinct that everyone else seems to have. "You'll want it one day, you're just too young" anyone?

I really struggle with being aroace and wanting children because i am quite a practical person and I understand how much effort time money and energy goes into parenting. It's many fold more difficult for single parents. Essentially, if i remain aroace I will have to choose whether to become a single parent, one of the hardest jobs in the world, while also working myself because I'd be a one income household and also trying to pay for childcare (and probably for fertility treatment too tbh). And also, I have dreams of travelling and living in another country, but if I did that I would be single-parenting completely isolated from my family...

I have never heard anyone discuss wanting children as a really difficult part of being aroace, presumably because many aroace people dont want kids. For me it's without question the hardest part.

[tomahachi12]

I have a small question about being an aroace… I’m an aroace in the closet and I was told that I’ll change my mind about being child free. I want to tell that my sexuality is the reason why, but I don’t want to explain that because I don’t feel ready to come out. Has this happened to you? What did you do? Should I come out?

It has

I never wanted kids, and I've been told all the time when I was younger that I'll "change my mind" about it

After raising my neice for five years, I still don't want kids lol

I was always asked at family parties if I "had a boyfriend yet" (or if I was gay when I said no), especially around the time when my cousins were getting married and having kids.

I just told them I wasn't looking, or interested, in having a boyfriend or girlfriend at the time, and that usually stopped all the questions.

I always kinda wondered why I felt that way. Was something wrong with me? What do I call this?

I did a lot of reasearch, comparing traits, and coming to realizations before I even could confidently say that was ace/aro

And this was only a few years ago.

Even then, it took me until just this year to come out and tell my family

And I'm 30 fukin years old.

--

I feel like coming out, especially when you're younger, is a lot harder because you are young

Folks always assume younger people don't know what they want, because they haven't had the experiences to make those decisions for themselves.

Which is why they always say "you'll change your mind when you're older."

--

I did a lot of research before coming to the decision that I'm aro/ace

And even then,, I'm still learning a lot about it.

--

Best advice I can really give is;

Just come out when you're ready.

You dont have to give an explanation for any of it.

If you dont want kids, or a partner, then that's your choice, not their's.

And also, try not to let it get to you.

Just because they say "yOu'Ll ChAnGe YoUr MiNd" doesn't mean it's going to happen.

It's your choice

They'll get their fur-baby grandkids and like it!