#it's such a heavy topic but I'd be lying if I said it wasn't fun to write
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Whumptober Day 12: Self harm
tw: bodily self harm, non-suicidal self harm, minor cuts, minor burns, intrusive thoughts, distorted thoughts/way of thinking, trauma, harmful inner dialogue, triggering imagery
It started with small cuts on the hand, easily disguised as papercuts.
Whumpee had been getting into reading again; Caretaker would understand. Dragging one's finger on the edge of the knife page was so tempting.
A few days and bandages later and it was like it had never happened at all. Caretaker and Whumpee could just forget about it.
The urge got stronger. Whumpee went about their day as normally as possible, healing from cuts their time with Whumper and getting used to a new life with Caretaker. It weighed on their mind constantly, and the mask of being okay was becoming hard to stay on.
Whumpee enjoyed their time with Caretaker. Caretaker was always willing to help them and to try and fix the broken pieces of themself. They can't fix this. They could tell Caretaker anything. Not about this. Caretaker would help them through anything. So why not tell them? Whumpee wanted Caretaker to be happy.
Soon, it included standing in the too hot shower or holding their hands under the scalding water. Burns are less messy than cuts. Then Whumpee would remember what happened with Whumper in front of the fireplace, and would get scared and turn the water down.
Why do you do this? Whumpee wasn't used to not constantly feeling some degree of pain. It's comforting, I know pain. There were many things Whumpee wasn't used to, but they wanted to get better. I feel like I'm getting worse.
Caretaker had a nice job, and was able to provide for the both of them. The temptation grows stronger while they're away. I'm safer when they're here, but they can't be all of the time. Whumpee thought it might be nice to get a job of their own and to get out of the house, even if just part time. Who would want somebody so broken? Whumpee remembered their job before everything that happened with Whumper, and while the work was tiresome, their coworkers were fun to be around. What would they think of you now, you pitiful thing...
One day, when Caretaker was at work, Whumpee decided to try baking something. Before they could start, they had to tackle the pile of dishes in the sink. Be careful not to "accidentally" grab a knife by its blade... Whumpee started on the task, moving slowly and carefully. There were a few knives at the bottom, of various sizes. Whumpee picked them up and started to inspect them. No harm in doing that if you're not harming yourself. Whumpee inspected the tips of the blade, how heavy they felt, and checked for any chips along the blade. They put the knives in the diswasher and started the cycle.
While they waited for the dishes, Whumpee went to read their book, but instead headed for the bathroom. Just in case, I want to make sure Caretaker has adequate first-aid supplies. They opened the cabinet under the sink and found bandages, gauze, burn cream, and individually wrapped pads soaked in rubbing alcohol. You wouldn't be looking here unless you wanted to do it. Give in already.
Whumpee left the bathroom and tried to read their book, but they couldn't concentrate. Eventually the dishwasher chimed and Whumpee went to dry and unload it.
Don't think about the knives, they can't hurt you if you don't let them.
What if I want to let them?
Whumpee pulled a box of cake mix from the cupboards and two pre-filled piping bags. They were going to make a bloody mess some cupcakes. Caretaker would be delighted when they came home! Not at the sight of your blood, only Whumper would like-
Whumpee pushed the thought away and turned on the small radio Caretaker kept in the kitchen. They found a station of current pop hits, which wasn't their thing, but it would help keep them distracted. From what? Your own mind? You can't get away from that.
Baking, frosting, and decorating the cupcakes went smoothly, and Whumpee enjoyed getting to make something with their hands and bopping along to the radio, even though they didn't know the words. They put the cupcakes in the fridge to let the frosting set up, and would take it out before Caretaker got home to place on the table for them to see.
Whumpee had an hour left to themselves and needed something to do. They could try to read their book, but what if they couldn't concentrate again? Thinking of books made Whumpee think about the crisp edges of pages, and how it felt to run their finger along them. It's not pages you enjoy...
They found themself opening the knife drawer. "Just to inspect," but you can't use that excuse now that you've already done that today. Whumpee took out the smallest of the knives, with a blade the length of their thumb. The butcher knife looked rather inviting, but it would have been too much too soon. They ran it along their thumb, and then moved down to their wrist, then arm, with never enough pressure to commit. They wondered what Whumper Caretaker would think of them.
They imagined what they would say,
"Whumpee, I-I'm so sorry you felt the need to do this to yourself- here, let's clean you up..." before taking Whumpee into their arms as they both cried.
"Ha! I guess I don't have to punish you anymore, clearly you can take care of that!" or even worse, Whumper standing behind Whumpee, placing one hand over Whumpee's, the other supporting Whumpee's arm, guiding the blade along their arm as they made Whumpee do it themself...
No. Caretaker didn't deserve this. Whumpee didn't deserve this. It was so tempting, too tempting, but Whumpee wasn't going to give in. Whumpee put the knife away and put back on the pop station, though they were blocking most of it out. They paced around the kitchen until Caretaker got home.
Caretaker opened the door and was immediately greeted by a tight hug from Whumpee. Caretaker returned the embrace, then a second later was being rushed into the kitchen, where a tray of freshly baked cupcakes sat on the table.
"Whumpee, this is amazing! T-thank you! I'll go put my things away, and then we can dig in!"
Whumpee was beaming with pride, and admiration for Caretaker.
You're safe.
For now.
#mine#ailesswhumptober2023#whumptober#whump#self harm#self harm tw#distorted thoughts tw#distorted way of thinking tw#trauma tw#harmful inner dialogue tw#triggering imagery tw#god I really want to make a part 2#it's such a heavy topic but I'd be lying if I said it wasn't fun to write#not in a “this topic is fun” way in a “it was interesting to explore this topic and Whumpee's thoughts and actions in a safe controlled#space aka this whump fic" way#also if any of this triggered anyone please take care of yourself#please and thank you#I'll reblog this after posting with a list of what the crossed out lines say for anyone who found them hard to read
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May I request hu tao reacting to their crush being heart broken? I guess just another part to the one you wrote, I really enjoyed it ! Please have a nice day!
I was thinking about throwing it in with the second part but I'd get things mixed up
Part one (Lisa, Kaeya, Yoimiya)
Part Two (Jean, Beidou, Eula)
Hu Tao reacting to her crush being heart broken
Reader here is gender neutral
Cw: Toxic relationships
She always liked you. It wasn't by any means a secret... At least she thought she was clear about liking you.
But you never responded to her feelings and ended up dating someone else. It hurt a little but then again it never stopped you from hanging out.
She stopped showing interest in you to show you that she respects your relationship...
But your partner didn't respect her. They always spoke poorly of her and never listened to you when you asked them to stop disrespecting your friend.
It wasn't uncommon for people to dislike her... Yet it made you a little annoyed that your partner would say such things about your friend right in front of you.
Because other than that they were perfect. They were always thinking of you and giving you all the love they could.
At least that's how you saw it. While they sure were sometimes good to you they didn't really care about your feelings. They cared about benefits that came with dating you. Everything had to be their way but they were never so obvious about it.
So the Hu Tao situation made you realize few more patterns... But none of them were serious enough to break up.
It did harm your relationship slightly. Of course they didn't suddenly start losing their temper if you asked about something related to the patterns you noticed.
What they did was say that your luck of trust harms them and your relationship and they said that they'll break up with you if you keep it up.
They calmly explained (lied) to you what their intentions were. So you believed them and dropped the topic. Not wanting them to leave, you thought like you had no other choice.
Hu Tao was suspicious of them but she never really acted on it other than saying something with a double meaning. It was taunting... But your date was smarter than to get caught lying with that tactic.
She knew that, but she also let them know that she knows what they're up to. They let you live the dream while they just keep lying so you won't question them when they use you.
You were smart, but you also were so stupid to not see it for what it is. Then again she can't really interfere and talk to you, she doesn't have a guarantee that you'll believe her and your trust is not something she isn't willing to gamble with.
But then again she didn't even have an opportunity to plan anything just in case before she found out they broke up with you.
It was... A heavy breakup. You tried to ask why did they leave and they just straight up told you they never liked you to begin with.
It hurt like hell and upon hearing this she thought about a new coffin deal if you know what I mean.
But other than that she didn't waste her breath on them. You were far more important than some petty revenge.
She didn't force you to cheer up right away. She gave you some time to think and let you know that if you need her she'll wait for you.
Once you decided to let her help you everything felt a little bit different. Like earlier she was just as fun to be around as always but... It felt like she was a bit more honest.
Maybe you felt like that because you were being lied to for months without end, making true feelings stand out more.
Unlike last time she offered you her feelings to you directly. You only live once and she won't let you go through similar suffering again... Of course that'd be only if you have her.
If not she's willing to keep being your best friend. Having fun with you doesn't have to come with your feelings.
~Mod Lisa
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Nuestra Familia (RCD MC: Astrid)
Book: Red Carpet Diaries
Rating: G
Pairing: Astrid-centric, minor Seth x Astrid
Summary: Astrid realises she doesn't know her family as well she had thought. Minor crossover with The Freshman/The Sophomore/The Junior.
Author's Note: This is a bit late for MC Appreciation Week, but I figured I'd put it out there anyway. This is my origin story for Astrid Ortega, my second RCD MC, who is involved with Seth. There's a cameo of one character from TF/TS/TJ in the end and I have a feeling you folks have already figured out who it is 😅 I used (of course) the "crossover" prompt from this list for my fic. I'm tagging @choices-mc-rules, in case they would still like to reblog this.
Translations:
Nuestra familia - "our family" in Spanish.
Chanclas - slippers/flip-flops
Tres leches cake - Typically a very moist chiffon cake soaked in a mixture of evaporated milk, condensed milk and heavy cream. Tres leches literally means "three milks".
Abuela - one of the terms used for ‘grandmother’ in Spanish.
Ita - Short for Abuelita, also used for grandmothers. Astrid calls her grandmother the former, her mom Teresa calls her grandmother the latter.
Manda Huevos - Can mean a lot of things according to context, but generally used to express a range of emotions, such as annoyance, disappointment, contempt or disbelief. In this context, Teresa means “it's not fair”.
If I've gotten anything wrong in terms of references, please do tell me, and I'll definitely fix it in the fic.
“One more foot inside my kitchen and it'll be my chanclas for you later.”
Teresa Ortega said these words to her daughter Astrid, in the same tone one would use to offer a guest some tea.
It wasn't that her mom didn't allow her kids to help with the cooking. She did. Salome was too young to do much but set the table yet but Astrid (and her big sister Letitia, whenever she was home) often pitched in to help with the meal.
But heaven help anyone who tried to help Mom with her tres leches cake.
This recipe was from Mom's Ita’s faded little diary, passed down to her by her mother on the condition that she would learn its recipes off by heart. It was her pride and joy, Mom would often say. Her baby before her actual babies came along.
And today it was even more essential Mom get this cake right. Astrid's abuela was visiting, and ever since Astrid's mother insisted on naming her Astrid (“She’s already named my first and last - at least leave the middle one to me!”) she could do nothing right.
Perhaps it would've been easier to handle if Dad wasn't Abuela's only son, if Mom had someone she could jointly ignore Abuela with, if they had cousins they could play with while the adults sorted out their issues. Or perhaps not. Still, it would have been nice to know.
“Easy, mom, I'm not going to touch your precious cake,” Astrid said, grinning, “Lemme demolish it at lunch instead.”
She'd be lying if she said she wasn't tempted, though. She could get the scent of baked cake wafting in all the way from her bedroom, and her mother was already starting to combine Carnation milk, condensed milk and 1/4th of a cup of heavy cream into a thin, but somewhat creamy, mixture.
Mom raised her eyebrows. “Why are you here, then?”
Astrid felt the muscles around her neck tense up, but schooled her face to a look of injured innocence. “What, can't I just want to talk to my mom once in a while?”
She craned her neck a little further behind Astrid, a tiny frown beginning to form between her brows. “What's that you're holding behind your back?”
Ding! The cake was ready now, just in time for soaking. Astrid let out a sigh of relief. She wanted Mom to see this wedding card, yes - it was why she came to the kitchen in the first place - but now was probably not the time for questions. Questions about family or about secrets. Not when she knew how important it was for her mother to get her weekend cakes right.
“Family” was always a big deal around the Ortega table. Dad was his mother's only child, and Mom’s parents passed on long before any of them were ever born. Her father was as annoyed by Abuela's antics as her mother was, but it never stopped him from having her visit every Sunday because “she's the only family we have left”.
It was as if he needed her to keep himself rooted, as if without her he would be floating aimlessly, no aim or identity, taking his wife and children down that path with him. Abuela knew this. By God, did she know this.
Or so I thought, Astrid said to herself, gripping the wedding card tightly and creating new creases where the word Ortega was written.
Mom was gritting her teeth now, carefully pouring the three-milk mixture over the cake and muttering to herself. “One more word about dry cake this time and I'll give her soggy toast, I swear I will.”
Astrid would have stood up last week and said something to Abuela, if only Mom would let her. It was probably a good thing Leticia wasn't around, she'd fire shots at Abuela for less. She was protective over all of them and often in the heat of the moment she'd forget she’d be landing them all in further trouble.
She was still muttering. “Wants chiffon cake. Screams bloody murder if I use box mix. What, Teresa, looking for shortcuts again?” Mom's voice was raised in an accurately nasal imitation of Abuela's voice. It was almost like she'd forgotten Astrid was there. “Then I make it from scratch like she wants. Then it's Oh Teresa this is so dry oh Teresa it tastes like sawdust. Why else do you think I use box mix, eh? You want it from scratch and you want moist. ¡Manda Huevos!”
The diatribe kept Mom occupied while she finished pouring, so Astrid kept silent. Mom needed this. This wasn't something she can say in front of Letitia (resulting in another Sunday screaming match) or Dad (what would he do?) or Salome (no way would the kid ever take Salome, language! seriously again). Mom needed someone to have her back, no matter how silently or secretly. And that someone had better be her.
“If only Linda had stayed…”
Astrid froze. “What did you say?”
Mom looked up, blinked twice, then stiffened. “Nothing. Nothing.”
Silently, Astrid handed over the card she'd been holding, all this time. She found it while searching for her dad's treasured García Lorca poetry collection, hidden between a page that exalted love and a page that mourned loss.
Mom took it from her, her eyes widening as she read the words.
LINDA ORTEGA
and
DOMINIC SANDOVAL
request the honour of your company at their wedding.
“Dad always told us he was all Abuela has, right,” Astrid said, “The only Ortega for miles around."
Mom answered by busying herself with more activity than ever. Keeping the soaked cake in the fridge. Pouring the remaining milk mixture into two glasses. Washing her hands. Washing the dishes.
“I'll do that for you,” Astrid took a plate from Mom's hands, “Just talk to me.” She grabbed a sponge and dish washing soap, cleaning vigorously. “All this time, Dad's been telling us Abuela's the only family he has, Mom. Like, he has no one else. Like, we have no sisters or brothers besides the three of us. Was he lying?”
“You're wrong,” Mom said, her voice suddenly sounding sharper, harder, “Abuela's the only family he has left. Your father didn't lie.”
“Just omitted the truth, yeah,” Astrid wished she knew how she felt about this. Right now there was so much she was feeling that she didn't exactly know where to begin. “There's no “together with our parents” above their names either. Not like yours’.”
Mom sighed, picked the card up, then held up two glasses of milk-mixture in front of her. “Take one and give the other to your sister. I have a lot of work to do.”
On any other day, Astrid would have grabbed that glass and relished its creaminess, wiping the milk-moustache off her mouth with a flourish. But today no amount of sweetness was going to take away that weird metallic taste in the roof of her mouth.
“I'm not done asking about this,” Astrid said, scowling, “to you or to Dad. If I have aunts and cousins out there, that's something I wanna know.”
Astrid did try in the weeks to come. But she never saw the wedding card again, and neither Mom or Dad ever responded when she raised the topic again. Still. It felt nice to dream.
Every time Abuela made a snide remark at lunch, she imagined her cousins there. A snarky younger girl who’d make smartass comments. A strong boy her age who’d shut Abuela up with just a glare. A nice aunt who’d take Mom's mind off all this nonsense. It didn't help much, but it felt nice.
It felt nice knowing she had company out there. Somewhere.
--
6 years later.
“Donuts, Iowa?” Seth’s eyes were gleaming at the prospect. He was more a bag-of-chips kinda guy most days, but he also liked having massive sugar rushes before a comedy gig.
“As long as the insides of six of those are practically spilling over with fruit jam, I'm game,” she said, standing on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. It felt exhilarating, freeing. She hadn't felt this normal in a while - normal enough to kiss her boyfriend without worrying about paparazzo jumping out from a bush. There was a guy in a leather jacket she didn't recognize - three blocks across - looking at her like he wanted to talk, but not in a way that made her feel unsafe.
That was the nice thing about Northbridge. People looked, sure, but they were less likely to make you feel like an exhibit from a zoo.
“Wait here, yeah?” Seth said, planting a kiss on the lips instead, “I'll be back before you can finish spelling “OHIO” with your arms.”
Astrid laughed. Seth said the most Ohio things sometimes. Neither of them had had this much fun since she was offered a lead role in Tender Nothings, which was why Seth always jumped at a chance to take up gigs in Northbridge, and why he always offered to take Astrid along when she was free.
The guy from before stepped forward a few minutes after Seth entered the donut shop. The summer heat must have been too much for him - his leather jacket was now slung over his shoulders. “Um, hello. Astrid Ortega?”
He stood with his hands in his pockets, mouth pursed into a thin line, a tiny curl slipping carelessly from his hair and resting on his forehead. She caught a peek at the tail end of a bird tattoo (Owl? The tail looked pointy) on his left arm.
“Yeah,” Astrid said, wondering whether it was her or Seth he wanted to talk to, “but I don't know what your name is.”
“ Zigmund. Zig for short,” he replied, looking behind him from time to time, “My sister Lucy’s a big fan. Asked me to help her get an autograph from you.”
“Is she here?”
“Yeah. But she doesn't want to come out. She's shy.”
Ah. So that was the cherry-red blur barely hidden by that building. She learned long ago that no matter how friendly you appeared, your image would precede you and intimidate people anyway. Autographs were great, but somehow she didn't want to stop at just that.
“Would she come out now if I asked?” she gave him her sunniest smile, “Tell her I won't bite.”
Zig hesitated, then nodded. Astrid watched him walk to the other building, move his hands expressively as he tried to convince his sister to join him (from that angle he almost looks like Letitia, Astrid thought), and return with a curly-haired, starry-eyed teenage girl.
“H-hey,” she said, then blushed, clearly embarrassed by her nervousness. Silently, she hands over her autograph book. She keeps her eyes studiously away from Astrid's face. “I, um, I like mystery films, and I really, really liked Tender Nothings.”
A girl after my own heart. “Maybe you'll like Sunset Boulevard, then,” she said, smiling.
Astrid could have just signed and left it at that, but there was something about these two. Something about the way they stood together, or exchanged glances, or something, that reminded her of home. Which was silly. But it didn’t change the fact that she wanted to leave a good impression on them.
“What would you like to be when you grow up, Lucy?”
Lucy didn't miss a beat. “Ballet dancer. Like my brother.”
Astrid smiled, particularly at the look the girl gave Zig. Yes, she could see on second glance that even though some people would say he didn't have the body of a dancer, he held himself with a certain grace, a certain lightness that belied a stronger core. Hit by a sudden rush of inspiration, she quickly scribbled a little note to go with her signature, and asked Lucy to read it.
To Lucy and Zig, future (hopefully!) best ballet dancing duo in America. Be sure to save me a seat when you folks get famous. Love Always, Astrid.
“Wowwww,” Lucy whispered. Zig suppressed his smile, trying not to let how he felt show, and failed. A corner of his mouth lifted upwards, revealing an almost-invisible dimple.
The two left before Seth brought his box of donuts,but they thanked her at least thrice as they walked away.
“Wait till I tell Mom about this,” Astrid overheard Lucy tell her brother as they left, “I told you she'd be really, really nice.”
“You did,” there was a note of indulgence in Zig's voice.
"Ortegas all around the world. Wherever we're from, we're nice.”
Had Seth come out a moment later, Astrid would have probably walked up to them and asked. Perhaps asked them where they were from and their parents’ names.
But Seth was here, with donuts, and there was never a moment she could take her eyes off either.
“Do you know those two?” Seth asked her, passing her a tres leches cake donut that was claimed to be one of their best, “They looked familiar.”
“”No,” Astrid replied, closing her eyes in bliss. Mmmm. The treat was taking her back to Des Moines, back to home, back to her mother's little kitchen. “But I wouldn't mind meeting them again.”
--
#fanfic#red carpet diaries#the freshman#the sophomore#the junior#rcd mc#astrid ortega#seth levine#zig ortega#lucy ortega#seth x astrid#playchoices crossover#seth x mc#mc appreciation week
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