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lotusthewriter · 1 year

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What I've Done - Chapter 3

Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist (2003)

Rating: T

Relationships: Alphonse (Wrath) & Edward

Characters: Alphonse Elric (Wrath), Edward Elric, Sloth, Dante, Envy, Izumi Curtis; MINOR - Roy Mustang; other characters to be added

Summary: “As soon as the homunculus decides to shove these feelings down his throat and take the alchemist to Dante for once and for all, his troubled opponent finally dares to say something that stops the world from going.

“… Al?”

It paralyzes Wrath.”

A Homunculus Alphonse Elric AU.

Word count: TBA

AO3

First chapter | Previous chapter

A/N: I actually already had this chapter planned but I hadn't written it out, so here you have it!

The next chapters will take longer to be posted, though, but I want to keep dedicating myself to this AU, because I really like exploring these characters and the idea of a homunculus Al. Even though this chapter specifically will focus more on Ed's side of the story.

If you want to check out my concept art for this AU, you can check out my art blog, @lotusthekat! I usually post it under the #homunculus al tag :)

Alright, so big trigger warning for suicidal thoughts/ideation in this chapter. It applies to the whole fic, but it's very present here.

TRIGGER WARNINGS - death, grief, repressed trauma, child abuse, physical and emotional abuse, emotional neglect, canon-typical violence, self-sacrifice, suicidal thoughts, blood and injury and loss of limbs. (More might be added)

P/roship DNI.

“... AL! ALPHONSE!”

His throat is sore at this point.

He doesn’t know how long he’s been in the forest, looking for that kid. Someone like that shouldn’t be this hard to be spotted.

Edward coughs roughly, exhausted both from the search and the fight that once took place. He has fought many, many powerful enemies before, but he never thought someone would be as quick as Ed, knowing his every move.

Ed has pretty much lost his strength at this point, unable to run or perform alchemy. He’s glad his automail hasn’t broken, but there’s too much inside his head and Ed doesn’t know what to do about it.

As he drops to his knees on the dirt, not caring about it dirtying his pants, there are desperate steps coming in his direction. Ed almost wants them to be that boy, but it turns out to be Ed’s alchemy teacher, Izumi, who also seems to have been hopelessly searching for someone in the woods.

“Ed!” Teacher exclaims. “Where the hell were you?! I’ve been looking everywhere-!”

She stops the yelling when she sees the state Ed is in, her eyes softening in concern.

“Oh, Edward… what happened to you?” She asks as she helps him stand up.

Ed looks away, gulping in fear. Izumi was really angry with him when she found out what he had done, so he doesn’t want to make her mad again. She notices, hence why the woman gently rubs his cheek, probably to clean off the dirt in his face.

“Hey,” Izumi whispers, “you can tell me, Ed.”

He’s not entirely convinced.

Thus, she sighs.

“I… I’m sorry I never made you feel safe enough to come to me all these years,” Izumi apologizes. “So, I want to do this one thing right. I want to be part of your journey. I wouldn’t have come all the way to Dante if I didn’t.”

Her smile is… truly soothing.

Ed doesn’t feel scared of her right now.

Though, it’s really not just her. It’s the fact that everyone involved with Ed will only get hurt or disappear. He doesn’t want that to happen to his teacher, either.

Regardless, Ed finds himself relaxing, letting out the deepest sigh.

“Okay.”

Close.

So damn close.

Yet Ed couldn’t even do this right.

His little brother’s hand was gone.

And there’s a monster in the transmutation circle.

He failed.

But most importantly, Edward failed his little brother.

And he couldn’t bear that.

With his own blood and an absent leg, Ed yells at the beyond, hopefully to bring Al back even if in this armor for now.

Once again, the bright light obfuscates the dark basement.

And Ed has no right arm.

Except…

“Al?”

The armor doesn’t show one sign of life. Other than the monster, there’s no other sign of life at all.

Still, Ed, obviously struggling, manages to cling to the metal armor, to see if it’s going to move.

“Al, can you hear me?” The boy begs.

Nothing.

“C-Come on, Al, say something.”

Ed starts shaking the armor, though pathetically since he only has one arm to do that.

“Please. Please, Al.”

It smells like tears, blood, and rotten flesh.

And dead metal.

“No…” Ed’s voice is a pitch higher. “No, no, no! I gave up my arm! Give him back! GIVE HIM BACK!!”

He’s pounding on the metal armor, hating it with every force out there, and yet unable to rip it apart in two. Ed is so angry that not even destroying a thousand armors would ever satiate the feeling.

Edward gradually sobs more painfully, growing numb to the pain and the blood coming out of him.

“He’s my little brother…” he whispers, his true priority. “Please…”

He’s probably going to die.

What’s the point, anyway?

"Al... come back..."

He won't.

The older Elric growls loudly and pounds the metal with force, not even caring about hurting his only weak hand.

"No! Al! AL!" He yells. "AL!!!!"

Ed lost everything.

And he’s going to die alone, all because he was too selfish.

“I’m sorry…” Ed cries, vision slowly darkening.

He has nothing. Nothing.

…

There are steps coming downstairs.

They sound like… boots.

Ed already feels rage just imagining who that could be.

Not him of all people…!

The steps rush to Ed’s direction.

The boy growls, “Go away…”

Whoever is there scoffs quietly. “Kid, you are literally bleeding to death.”

“I don’t care!” Ed ends up whining instead of sounding actually angry.

It’s not like he’s even able to resist much considering half of his limbs are gone, so Ed feels himself being held in the stranger’s arms.

“So, you did all of this…” the man mumbles.

The boy’s golden eyes are filled with tears again.

“It hurts…” Ed sobs.

He realizes he’s losing more and more touch with reality.

Unfortunately, he doesn’t see Mom or Alphonse once he leaves.

“... Winry,” Ed whispers nonsensically, his last hope. “Rockbell…”

There’s silence, then a sympathetic sigh.

“You’ll be alright, kid.”

Beyond his better judgment, Ed finds himself hiding in that stranger’s firm arms, clinging to his wet coat. It’s far from comfortable, yet Ed has already lost everything to care.

The only things Ed will remember then are blurs.

When Ed wakes up, he’s in bed taking soup, Winry eyeing him with curious yet terrified blue eyes.

Winry and Granny are apprehensive, neither of them daring to speak. It’s quite a miracle that Ed survived, according to Granny. He expected her to give him a full lecture, and maybe she was about to do so… when Winry asked Ed about Alphonse.

With silence as their only answer, Granny is not even cranky. If Ed isn’t seeing things, she might be letting out tears in secret. Winry appears to have cried, too, and she still does every now and then.

It’s raining too much outside.

Ed knows that creature is still there in the basement, but maybe it’s just going to die due to its state.

Al, then… never came back.

Ed knows he can’t say anything. Nothing will be enough to explain what happened. No apologies will ever bring Mom and Al back. There’s absolutely nothing to justify the older Elric.

Unlike the Rockbells, he’s too empty to cry. Like all the tears were gone with the rain.

The boy doesn’t feel any pain.

He has nothing.

Nothing at all.

He could’ve just… died.

Why didn’t he?

Ed already lost everything.

What was the point?

He’s nearly claimed by the deep rain when the guy that saved him – and Ed already hates him for it – returns, after borrowing the house phone for the moment being. Lieutenant Colonel Roy Mustang, apparently, was looking for the Elrics’ father thanks to a couple of unsent letters. Ed tunes out of the conversation entirely at the mention of that old man, almost wanting to tell everyone else to leave him alone to die.

Ed is staring at the window, golden eyes deprived of any hope, when he hears the same boots coming to him… gently this time.

“You may not think so right now… but I know you have talent, kid,” Mustang lowers his voice to him. Ed refuses to look back, and the man understands it. “If you want to use it, well… I hope you are ready for the next State Alchemist exam.”

Now is the time Granny Pinako yells at Mustang, appalled that the Lieutenant Colonel would suggest something as such to a bleeding eleven-year-old. At least he leaves before the older Rockbell can kick him out with her wrenches and automail limbs.

Ed, for the first time that night, frowns.

None of them see it.

State Alchemist…

“... everything has been for Al.”

Izumi’s black eyes are deep with sadness.

“Nothing else mattered,” Ed explains to her. “I would do everything to get my little brother back. I joined the military, I fought the fiercest and most dangerous enemies, all just for Al.” He could only stare at his automail arm… now knowing where his real limbs must have gone.

His metal limbs make noise, shaking.

“I… I never thought… I-I’d see his face again.”

Izumi tenses. “What do you mean?”

Ed’s head is lowered. “... homunculi.”

She gasps. “You mean…”

He sniffs.

“He fought just like Al, but he was much stronger and faster than me,” Ed narrates. “He was… the only homunculus I’ve ever seen performing alchemy.” He blinks. “I didn’t know why at the time… but I think he has my limbs, Teacher.”

Izumi grabs some of her own hair. “No.”

Ed chuckles bitterly. “Turns out I haven’t lost my right arm for nothing.”

His metal fist tightens, almost breaking into pieces. Winry would disapprove instantly.

“He really wasn’t like them. He only focused on fighting me. Until… I cut his hair with my automail, and he was suddenly really angry,” Ed recalls. “His hair was long and it covered most of his face, so it was only when he was about to punch me in the face that I… saw him.”

Growling teeth, intense purple eyes, profound hatred and resentment…

“It looked like… it was really him , Teacher.”

“Edward,” she warns, “you know that isn’t true.”

“It wasn’t just the- the physical appearance, it was like the real Alphonse wanting to beat me up for everything I did to him,” Edward’s voice breaks just imagining his little brother hating him. “And it’s even worse that the moment I called him Al… he looked terrified. He ran away from me. It was like he hadn’t heard that name in years, and… it meant something to him."

Izumi looks like she wants to deny that the homunculus is Al, yet she’s too pained to dismiss Ed’s suffering.

“I’m pissed off, too, that the homunculi never told me about him,” he bites. “They must’ve known this whole time, and they decided to play with my feelings to get what they wanted.” Ed can only remember Nina’s dead eyes staring deep into his soul, after he also failed to save her, after she brightened his darkest days without Alphonse’s sunlight.

The woman sighs. “I’m so sorry, Ed.”

“It’s not your fault, Teacher. It’s all mine.” His eyes grow wet, only for his left arm to dry them. “I’ve already suspected something was off for a while… but after seeing that boy…”

He doesn’t finish the sentence, refusing to come up with the conclusion. Izumi notices, and while she does not force him to spit it out, she grabs him by the shoulders gently yet solidly, her eyes now serious.

“Edward,” she calls him, “you can’t run away from the past anymore. You have got to make a decision, to take up responsibility for what you’ve done. You must, or else you will regret it.”

The pain of a mother giving up her own child, and unable to turn back on it, is heard beneath Izumi’s stoic nature. Ed swallows the tears of his eleven-year-old self, the tears that rarely come out nowadays because he lost everything that night.

Izumi cannot ever go back on her choice. Ed wants to believe he can bring his brother back, but now that the truth has come to take him down itself…

He doesn’t want to give up on this. He can’t let Al go.

Ed doesn’t think he could handle living with his absence any longer.

“It’ll be okay,” Izumi reassures him, wiping his unseen tears for him. “I promise.”

She hugs him like he’s her own child, loving him despite all the mistakes he’s made.

Ed isn’t entirely soothed by the embrace, which is not Izumi’s fault. He knows she’s trying her best and will continue to do so.

The knowledge, however, of that lost boy in the forest, running forever and ever without a destination, and that ghost that keeps haunting Ed whenever he’s near the Führer…

He won’t be ready.

…

Not yet.

#fullmetal alchemist #fma 03 #edward elric #alphonse elric #elric brothers #izumi curtis #alternate universe #homunculus alphonse elric #homunculus al #fma au #suicide tw #suicidal thoughts tw #death mention tw #grief tw #fanfiction #long post

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taemys · 2 years

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Dear Tumblr

I don’t know who will read this. Maybe no one will, and that’s okay, because I just need some place to scream. I have never told any of this to anyone, even myself. And if by chance, it helps someone somewhere to feel less alone, then it would have been worth it.

I suffered from bulimia nervosa for eight years now. I still can’t believe it’s true while I write this sentence, and it scares me so much that I feel like the future is collapsing before me. I have no words to describe how tired I am and how alone I feel after all those years. I am beginning to fear that I will never get better and it’s suffocating, because I want to be happy so desperately.

I dream of a future when my fiancé can put his hand on my waist and I won’t want to cry. I want to sit in a chair without obsessing over the size of my thighs or the folds of my stomach. I want my weight to stop being my first thought when I open my eyes in the morning. I want to stop thinking about my body whenever I put my clothes on, whenever I walk by a store window or go shopping with my friends. “Can they tell? Can someone see this?” This infernal spiral is like a screaming bell at the back of my mind that won’t shut up until I finally give in to my urges. I feel like a slave to my own mind, and I watch myself as I force-feed my body like a paralyzed goose.

I’m pushing myself toward my own grave while fooling everyone, and that might be the saddest joke of it all: everyone thinks I recovered. That it’s a dark and confusing memory long gone behind me, that I went through some kind of “glowup” because I finally learned how to put pretty clothes and not talk trash of myself in public. But nothing changed. I’m still the same liar.

I could say that it’s Bulimia that made me one, but I lied way before I shoved a toothbrush down my throat. I lied from the moment I realized I was taller and bigger than other girls, and I lied even more when I saw the way I was eating wasn’t normal. I have hidden food for longer than I can remember and I have avoided meals as soon as my mother made fun of me. I became a professional at hiding the smell, at making food packages disappear, at counting calories and vomiting in silence when people were too close.

I became a contorted image of success, a walking lie that hides behind loud jokes, false confidence and misplaced advice. I used my false recovery to lift people up and tell them that no obstacles were unsurmountable, only to sob at night because I couldn’t bear the sight of my own body. It wouldn’t have been so sparkly, if I told them that I was ashamed to be naked in my own shower, that I sometimes fished food out of the trashcan or vomited in plastic bags, when a bathroom wasn’t an option. I couldn’t tell them about the cold sweat, the racing heart and the overwhelming panic that come with keeping food in your stomach.

Bulimia has made me selfish. I stole at supermarkets, I stole in my dorm, I stole at my office, I stole at my friends’ houses. Like a cockroach, I sneaked in the kitchen at night to stuff myself with food as fast as possible, and I froze in the dark every time I heard a noise. At some point, I even concluded that any form of care was wasted on me, because I would always end up choosing food. You want to give me money? It will disappear in benders. You want to treat me to dinner? I will throw it all up behind your back and come back with a smile. You want to bring me to a nutritionist? I will just use the opportunity to drop weight even faster. You will ask me if I am still struggling with my weight? I will tell you that you worry too much.

I choose food every single time and for a moment, for that terrible second where the void is filled, I am soproud. So proud of not getting caught, so proud of being able to eat without gaining too much weight, so proud of enjoying junk food in front of a show when others are working. And then the curtain falls and the ice cream sweetness is gone. You’re not a ‘sexy bitch,’ a independent professional or a struggling woman. You’re not even a victim.

You’re just some sad chick who gobbles some carrot cake in the shadows of her apartment.

Bulimia has been ruining every good thing in my life and I don’t even know what it means to live without it. I have wasted so many meals in high school that I could have enjoyed with my friends, but I was too busy running in the park to make up for the morning binge. It ruined my relationship with my family because their inability to resolve the problem had made them cruel and distant, and I never completely forgave them for turning their back on my illness. In the past, I have ruined my chances at dating because I was too insecure about my weight, and I never made the first step because I didn’t believe someone could love someone like me. But now that someone does, I guess it makes everything worse.

My lies no longer limit themselves to the outside world. I now became a full time, award-winning, pathological liar with the love of my life, and I can’t stop myself no matter how much shame I feel. I am stuck in a storm that won’t stop crushing me against the wall, and even though I may not deserve it, I am so tired of fighting.

I have seen so many psychiatrists who didn’t do anything aside from taking my money and forcing me to conduct my own therapy without any real exercise. I have given up talking to my friends and family because I either become a concern or an inconvenience. Why hasn’t she gotten over it, already? Should we let her snack since it might trigger her? Even though I pretty much live under the tyrannic rules of my eating disorder, I hate when I disappear behind it in the eyes of my loved ones, and letting them in always hurts so much. I can't talk to anyone. Nobody understands, and when they do, they just don't have the strenght to deal with it. I don't blame them.

I'm tired to be taken by surprise every time it comes back, even though it always happen the same way. Every time I try to love myself and move to another life stage, Bulimia always finds a way to explode in my face. And every time, I am reminded of who I am and I become more hopeless.

I don't know what to do. I'm drowning.

#eatingdisorder #bulimia #ED #annamia #mentalillness #weight #help

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dethkomic · 1 year

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Writin’ Comics and Junk: Part 2 - Let's Break Down a Story!

Welcome, my favorite goofballs, to another edition of Dethkomic talks way too damn much about how to write and stuff.

Before we begin --

Next update to Dethkomic will hit the internets on Friday, March 17th. It'll be another 6-page update to wrap-up this chapter and issue #5 will officially be in the books!

Okay... now onto our really big show!

We're going to get into the meat of how I actually compose the scripts for Dethkomic, this time. I think it might be easiest if I did a sort of "deconstruction" on the first Dethkomic. Therefore, if you are reading this and happen to not have finished Dethkomic I and do not wish to be spoiled -- I suggest coming back after you're through with it. :)

Everyone good? Okay then! First thing's first -- How did I get the idea for Dethkomic's first... dethkomic?

The simple answer is, I cheated and used an old fanfic I wrote. The longer answer is, I wanted to have a story I could point people to, if they wanted to be introduced to my characters. I wanted it to be heavy on the action and drama (because these are the types of stories I like to read, myself. See last entry). I wanted it to establish the relationships between my characters and the canon cast (duh. It's fanfiction). And lastly but perhaps most importantly, I wanted it to establish an interesting world I could add on to with other stories, as the mood struck, while simultaneously being *enough* of a story on its own if I never ended up doing that.

The long and short of it is, I wanted to do Dethkomic to be a hobby story. No cares about hitting a deadline. No worries about profiting from it. No real reason to give a hoot if nobody liked it, actually. I was writing for me.

And here we are..!

Part 1: Roughing Out an Idea

Once you've got a general idea of the type of story you're writing, roughing out the plot is kinda like sculpting. You start with a big brick of clay and you start manhandling it into shape.

To start a script, I like to plot out beats. They start extremely vague but get tighter as I go on. If I worked from the very beginning of Dethkomic I, my first beats might look something like this:

[We need to introduce Baen-Shee] [There is some kind of conflict] [The conflict is resolved]

Intense, right? Granted, my first pass was a little more detailed than this... but honestly, not by much. This is really all the more my brain knew about this story, at its conception. For me, just getting the parts that absolutely have to get done down on paper, helps me stay organized. It doesn't matter how blurry they are. Feel free to put your beats down in whatever fashion makes the most sense to you -- all that matters is that you and your brain are not getting paralyzed by the fear of losing your train of thought when you look at your beats. They are there to keep shit together, not tear it apart.

Though it wasn't much, it *was* a place to start, and having a structure, even in the most basic sense, kept my mind free to wander. Eventually, the beats branched out:

[Dethklok needs a reason to associate with Baen-Shee] [We establish new and old relationships between characters] [Stuff needs to feel pretty normal, here. Nothing weird.] [We find out Baen-Shee are more than just musicians] [Maybe the Tribunal is in on this?] [We get to show their real talents during the conflict] [Relationships are re-established as the conflict ends]

So now things are starting to feel like they could actually become a story. Notice how the conflict still isn't established? Don't get caught up if you don't have one in the very early stages. I see so much writing advice about "figure out conflict first" and yeah, you absolutely should have *something* going down, eventually... but details can remain vague until you get excited about what that is.

Worth noting too, since not everyone reading this is bound to be thinking in terms of Lit Class 101: the term "conflict" in this sense, doesn't mean "a fight" or something similar. With the beats above, the conflict could have been the epic battle we ended up getting or it could have been the bands shopping for matching shoes (and nobody can agree on a style). Seriously.

Part 2: The Detail Work

Remember that stuff I said last time about character arcs? Now's as good a time as any to start introducing things like that. In Volume 1 of Dethkomic, Nita's arc was your basic "the normal one turns out to have super powers" thing. So when I get to a point in the script where I want to play on that (and I should be trying to at least think about it a little bit, each time Nita appears) I can write it out. Take the scene where the Tribunal reviews each of the girls as an example:

[We get a panel each, introducing each member of Baen-Shee. Each panel should go over a bit of their less-savory pasts.] [Except Nita. Nita's a sweetheart.]

That will be enough for me to remeber that this is an establishing point for Nita's character. I can write it however I want -- the important thing is that we get the sense that nobody suspects Nita is anything but a normal musician.

The point of doing things in this way is again, to simply vomit your ideas onto paper for a while, jotting down what you absolutely want to have happen, and letting it stew until that sweet point of contention finds its way into your brain. You'd be surprised how nice it is to have all your thoughts collected so you can freely read them. I find with the jumbled mess my brain is prone to becoming at any given time, reading things in sequence often gives me just enough lead-in to know where to turn, next.

At this point, you might be the type of writer who will plot the whole of the story from beginning to end with enough detail to know what you're writing, down to the last bit of dialogue.

I am not this type of writer.

I tackle what I see in my head, first, so the things I know I really want to work on can help shape the stuff I haven't figured out, yet. I don't have the originals, but the first pages of script for Dethkomic I looked very similar to this:

[Chapter 1 - Part 1] [Nita is at a desk, filling out paperwork. She notes how much there is] [Charles says some reassuring things to keep her from fretting too much about the accidental death clauses in the contracts]

[Dinosaur interlude - introduce when the comic takes place] [Big establishing shot of Mordhaus]

[Charles calls a meeting. All of Dethklok present. Establishing shot in the meeting room. Charles' dialogue: "Gentlemen. I just got off the phone with Crystal Mountain Records and got some rather surprising news. We're blowing away every one of our quarterly goals except in one demographic. There's going to be some changes around here in the coming days." Nobody is impressed.] [Charles needs to do his best to convince the gang things are in a dire state and in order to do this, he employs the usual visual aids. Maybe the remote for the TV has spikes on it.]

[Part 2]

We need to meet Baen-Shee

[Part 3]

Something happens

Notice that some of the pages are more "put together" than others. The last fully fleshed out page of part one (page 3) even includes dialogue -- but I haven't figured out what happens at all in Parts 2 and 3. It changes, depending on how much stuff I'm trying to keep track of, and how important the details are, but this is basically all the more there is to a Dethkomic script before I start making thumbnails of the page art. It covers what I have to be showing at that point, any important dialogue I figured out (usually, I leave the dialogue until after I've done the art unless someone has to say something that establishes an important point), and any other pertinent information. Eventually, notes like "We need to meet Baen-Shee" get replaced by page-specific beats that are way more detailed.

And that's it. What you see in the example above is all I need to start drawing. As I go on, things will come to me or ideas will change which might shift the story a bit, but I tend to write out as much as I can, ahead of time. It's cool if stuff changes because I have everything I need to accomplish ahead of me in my notes, so I'm once again just whittling away at that same clay block. That said, I have a few pointers for you as you write your beats...

Part 3: Pointers

Let's start with one I will not shut up about and you've already heard me say a thousand times by now...

Get the things down you're likely to forget.

This is why it's important to always have access to a notebook or an app on your phone for writing shit down. There's stuff I look forward to writing and it's unlikely I'll ever forget to write it (and yeah -- I'll jot those ideas down, too...) Meanwhile, there's stuff I think up in passing. My brain will say "Oh holy shit. There's that connection I was looking for when I need X to do Y." Or maybe it's "Oh holy shit. There's a plothole here if I don't explain Z." And you know what happens if I don't write stuff like this down? Poof. It's gone by the time I get to it.

For every cool idea, there are a million points of connection, and disconnect, and plothole patching that come into my head as there are big scenes. Write them down so they exist somewhere and you can feel secure as you concentrate on the cool stuff. And speaking of the cool stuff...

Use your good ideas ASAP.

I know you don't want to "run out" of these... but you'll have more good ideas. Promise. Keep yourself motivated by using the ideas that excite you about your story right now if possible.

Let's say you can't wait to reveal that Character A is Character B's father but there's 15 chapters between what you're writing now and that point in the story. If it's not a major turning point (those are different), consider throwing it in now, homeslice. Or maybe hint at it if it is meant to be kept as a big reveal. Why are you writing, again? To have fun? Take every opportunity you can get to go have fun, then. The more you care, the more your audience will care. And it beats slogging through a story until you get to that magical point you've been waiting for, only to have your readers turn disinterested because there just didn't seem to be as much going on through those chapters as there was during the fun parts... that is, if you yourself can even stay interested long enough to get to that point.

Start to look for themes.

Once you get to the point in your story where you have begun to figure out the details of each individual scene, you might start looking for a running theme through your tale. You don't have to have them, but they're nice little bonuses for the people paying attention.

I didn't do a ton of work with theme in Dethkomic I, but I do a hell of a lot with it in Dethkomic II. A lot of the same themes exist in both stories. See if you can spot them:

The things that count as "family"

What makes someone "a hero"

Angels and demons

Individual power versus collective harmony, Corruption versus innocence, Life and death, etc.

Accepting a greater destiny beyond "normal life"

As always, I'm sure I'm forgetting some. A lot of these themes are universal while some of them seem to only follow a certain character or characters around. Their part in the story could be totally muted and no damage to the plot would be done since they don't exist for any purpose beyond giving attentive readers the occasional "holy shit, this again!" feeling. But boy is that a fun thing to impart to your audience as a writer. I highly recommend starting to play with metaphors in your stuff, if you haven't before.

On plot holes and other scary things...

As I said -- sometimes you'll make one of these roadblocks and if you're not careful to patch it, it might ruin your good time. The easiest way to work this out is to re-read your whole script from beginning to end, occasionally. If you're the crazy writer who is plotting the whole thing out early on, then you have a duty to go in and fix things as soon as you spot them.

If you're like me and are doing a bit more of the "writing as you go", then your job is to read what you have up to the point that you have it written, and see if there's anything keeping you from connecting what you have to the way it ends.

Look for things like missing character motivation, "magical fixes" (stuff that is too much of a stretch to allow for believability), time travel (how did they get here and/or what time was it when this happened versus what came before and after), etc. And above all else, remember this:

Most plot holes aren't a big deal, and the ones that are might just be stories that haven't been told, yet.

That's it for this edition of writin' with dethkomic, I spoze! So far, the advice I've been giving here has been pretty universal as it pertains to writing just about anything... But next time, we'll dive further into the plot and begin doing the other half of the work that comes specifically with working in a visual media. I am of course, talking about the art!

See you in a little over a week, pals!

#dethkomic does writing

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moonbeam-dreamer · 11 months

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Reawakened (Continued from part 3. Ending)

"If something happens, or you feel unsafe, don't hesitate to use it". His tone left no room for argument. Something in my manner of speaking must have alerted him to the fact that I'd opened the door a sliver, yet there was a tidal wave ready to rush over him. He wasn't wrong in that respect, but I dreaded the day when he managed to break through my defenses and learn the truth. It was bound to happen. As much as I tried to hide the truth from my closest friend Jessica, and that lasted a month in total, I eventually caved. Li was a smart man. He'd figured out the right combination of buttons to break the seal wide open.

"I'll try not to", I said and pulled my wallet from my bag. The card was placed behind my license and the picture of Sophie Lancaster and her boyfriend Robert Maltby. I could see another leap of curiosity but after our last discussion he kept a tight lid on it.

"How much do I owe you?" The copy said it was $24 but shops usually had their own pricing system to make it cheaper, or so I hoped. I wasn't going broke since I no longer paid my mother's expenses with mine. Didn't mean I wanted to spend another over $20. Seems like he had a mind reading ability, though.

$15, repeat customer discount". He took the book from my hands and scanned into the computer. His fingers danced gracefully across the keyboard and the price reflected the bargain. Not even tax included. What a dangerous game he was playing for someone who'd given him a lecture that brought out his humility. Still I stood paralyzed. It was a fantastic bargain and my head was telling me to keep my mouth shut. My conscience was the mule kicking me in the ass to speak up, and I relented, though casually.

"Sure your boss won't fire you for the indignity of selling a high priced item so cheaply?" It was only six years old, but it was the special edition. 'Highly sought after', in other words. Still, it didn't keep me from pulling my debit card and handing it over readily.

"Seeing how it's the family business, I don't think they'll take a second look". He swiped the card and slid it back, ignoring my wide eyed gaze. How the hell did I get lucky enough for this to happen?!

"I meant it", he reiterated after bagging the book and passing it over. My cheeks were red for embarrassment. "Doesn't matter how small you think it is, or you don't want to bother me. Call".

I took possession and stepped back quickly. The urge to spill the tea was at fingertips. All I had to do was confess and then he'd understand how serious it wasn't. I hadn't been so quiet to tell people off before. Why was it, with him, that I couldn't make my mouth form the words that were rolling through my head? Rather, I gave a curt nod and put both wallet and novel in my bag before leaving. This feeling of safety, having a friend close again, was gnawing at me and I didn't know how to process it. Like standing on a cliff overlooking the ocean, while a wildfire burns behind you. All you have to do is leap to safety, despite the risks involved, but fear keeps you in danger's path. It was only a matter of time before you were consumed, and the fire was already nipping at my heels.

I barely remember the drive home. Not even planting myself in the same armchair that offered comfort at the easiest of times. It was the later barrage of texts from my mother about my father's 'Girlfriend" that prompted me to my senses. Shutting off the device I went to shower before settling into my blog. It's become my only escape now, but I'm grateful. Perhaps, through this, I'll find clarity, or a voice to tell me I'm not insane.

One can dream, and that's the most beautiful part, isn't it?

#creative writing #writing #short story #writerscorner #writerslife #writersofinstagram #story time #survival #drama tw #writerscommunity #slow but steady #slow burn #romance #dangerous #protector #life #reality #hope

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thedancingkajira · 1 year

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C23

Here’s a true confession: I hate losing.

Yes, I have a growth mindset. I know all things happen in their time. I get that one door closes and another opens. I feel the love of the universe when I let myself get out of my way.

But I hate losing. I despise doing my best and not having it be enough. I loath having to suffer the proverbial slings and arrows while I make my way to success. I am sick of having doors slammed in my face and locked. I don’t like getting kicked in the teeth when I’m down and I detest waking up and having to clean up all the doubt, the fear, the woe of the day before.

I lost at Kaissa again yesterday and, as before, learned a good deal from it. Namely, I learned three things. First, that my defensive strategy was the correct one. Second, that key pieces need to be employed in order for that strategy to not be paralyzed. And third, that the eventuality of defeating my Master, who has been playing for quite a longer time than I, is not likely to occur in the near future.

The loss resulted in sodomy and story time, when I related two of my favorite events of my erotic history. As with past buggery, it was the intended punishment. I felt pretty awful afterward and was threatened by an even more awful outcome if I lost again.

I didn’t want to lose before and I sure as the Vosk is wide don’t want to lose again. Losing is bad enough in an encouraging environment, like when I used to mess up my tavern dances when owned by my prior Master, Ho-Hak Bar-Hom. Even though it was terrifying and awkward, he would tell me I was a great dancer in the making. Such is not the case with Kaissa.

My Master knows and says that I’ll be a formidable opponent one day. Yet the journey there will be long and unpleasant. Fortunately, I enjoy the game enough to persist. That’s the saving grace of the situation, the thing that puts that hatred and its root, my ego, aside and impels me to face the day enthusiastically. As much as I may hate the price of defeat, I love the game more than it.

Win or lose, I’d still play Kaissa. And I’d still be me. So no matter the situation, its cost or the length of the journey, I’d still keep at it. That’s that sense of purpose that gets us through the darkest times. I know what my devotions are, and I’m at peace giving my all for them, understanding that doing so is the only real success I can have.

#lessons #kaissa #games #master #gor #roleplay #secondlife #female writers #writers on tumblr #writers and poets

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preetkumars · 1 year

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Nandini Kumar

Preetica Pooni

FYW

14th December 2022

The Final Portfolio

For the last assignment of this semester, we were given the opportunity to creatively display our best work throughout the course. My thought process behind creating this portfolio was to compile, not only the best works of writing which I’ve produced but hold a great meaning to me. In this course, we did a lot of assignments which had us incorporate many things about ourselves and our lives. I wanted to incorporate those specific assignments, specifically the lyrical essay and weekly assignments, for example Week 2’s assignment. Where we talked about our lives. I wanted to be able to display my ideas, religion, culture, personal life and of course me. I learned a-lot about myself during these past few months and semester. My intentions are for the reader to get an insight of my life and my thoughts. Almost as if you were looking a visual diary by me. I also wanted to document how my life has changed since the beginning of the semester. My goal is to compare and contrast, and add any new updates. A theme that is displayed is growth. Many of us have started a new chapter of our lives, and of course it takes time to adjust. There are many things you’ll slowly start to learn about yourself when you start reflecting. For me, I’ve been trying to better myself, and stay focused on my goals. In the near future, I plan to look back and reflect on my life and see how far I’ve come, because life is all about growth. 🙂

The Lyrical Essay:

I looked so forward to turning eighteen this year and for some reason I never really understood why. Ever since I was younger everyone would point to the level of maturity I had. People were always amazed at how young I was and how maturely I spoke and acted. But I never knew why I acted that way. It wasn’t just so I could receive validation from people to boost my ego ( I’m a Leo, but I don’t know much or care about astrology). But I feel like this was a sign from God himself preparing me to be the person I am today.

When I was fourteen, my life had done a complete 360 and although the series of events was traumatic, it opened my eyes in a way I never expected it to. On July 19th 2019, my father had an acute ischemic stroke. My father was a very strong man, both physically and mentally. Seeing him go from being so healthy to so sick in the span of one day broke me. I spent the next month, taking care of my parents' Indian clothing business, as well as taking care of my father. Memorizing the 11 mandatory medications he was on, to making sure his diet was clean and healthy, taking him to his bi-yearly neurologist appointments, taking him to doctors that at the time I never knew existed. I lived in constant fear that one day my father would die. Always made sure to hold his hand when walking, whether that was on a flat road or down the stairs, because if he fell, I knew he’d be paralyzed for the rest of his life.

Now today those fears that 14 year old me had, no longer remain. My father passed on July 24th 2022. For the past 2 months now, I’ve been in denial. I acknowledged that he’s gone, but for some reason I cannot believe it. I mean I literally remember pressing the button to cremate him, but I feel like I won’t accept it anytime soon. I don’t mean to turn this into a sob story, but my fathers death has revealed so much about me, that I never would’ve discovered on my own. I genuinely feel like I have developed into a new person because of him. I no longer fear life because, one day my body will be turned into ashes and just like that, there would be no traces of me. Now that doesn’t mean I won’t proceed with caution or won’t stress or fear, but I want to be able to live a meaningful life, doing things that I love.

That specifically, being a provider. I also talked passionately about being a doctor since I was younger. And although I won't be an MD (because I physically cannot stand doing a residency) at least I’ll be a DDS. I remember my dad telling me how he wanted to put DDS plates on my car and we’d joke about hiring him as my receptionist at my practice. Although he won’t ever be able to see me graduate and become one. I realized that I want to do this more than anything else. The way his face would light up when he’d see me. The way he’d smile from ear to ear. Even though the last 3 years were a blur for him, the one thing he’d always talk about to others with was how his daughter, was going to be a doctor.

I remember, how you’d honk outside waiting for me while I was still finishing up my breakfast

I remember, how you would turn around and smile at me while mom helped me into the car

I remember, you always asking me if I had my belt on

I remember, walking with mom to our store after school ended

I remember, running in and sitting on your lap

I remember, how you’d kiss my forehead, and ask me what I wanted to eat

And I’d say nothing

I remember, Sunday mornings, going to the gurdwara with you and doing seva

I remember, how’d you cook food for the homeless and give it out

I remember, how people stopped walking to shake your hand

I remember, how people addressed you as Kumar Sahb

I remember, when you’d cook Thai curry for us on your days off which I absolutely hated, but

grew to love

I remember how much you hated kidney beans

I remember how much you loved sweets

I remember, you coming into my room before I went to sleep and pressing my legs

I remember, vividly 3 years ago when you got sick,

I everyday remember, of how much pain you were in,

I remember you, telling everyone that I’d make a great doctor one day, because of the way I took care of you.

I remember, the day before you left

I remember, how you sang your favorite song for the last time,

I remember the last thing you ate.

I remember the last words I said to you.

I will always remember how much you loved me.

Growing up, my father would take my mom, my brother and I to the Gurdwara every Sunday before he got sick. After moving to Long Island, there were many Gurdwaras by us that we’d visit often. When I was younger of course I couldn’t understand gurbani much, because it was a different language from punjabi, and was recited in gurmukhi. But now that I am older and more mature, I’ve found my relationship with god getting stronger, and that is through listening and understanding baani. Here are my favorite quotes that help me when I feel overwhelmed or stressed, or just feel lost.

- -ਜੋ ਆਇਆ ਸੋ ਚਲਸੀ ਸਭੁ ਕੋਈ ਆਈ ਵਾਰੀਐ ॥(474-2)

jo aa-i-aa so chalsee sabh ko-ee aa-ee vaaree-ai.

Whoever has come, shall depart; all shall have their turn.

- ਮਰਣੁ ਲਿਖਾਇ ਮ��ਡਲ ਮਹਿ ਆਏ ॥

Maran Likhaae Manddal Mehi Aaeae ||

With their death already ordained, mortals come into this world.

ਮਾਰੂ ਸੋਲਹੇ (ਮਃ ੧) (੩) ੭:੧ – ਗੁਰੂ ਗ੍ਰੰਥ ਸਾਹਿਬ : ਅੰਗ ੧੦੨੨ ਪੰ. ੧੮

Raag Maaroo Guru Nanak Dev

- “Man breaks flowers with one hand and offers them with the other, but the flowers perfume both hands alike. The axe cuts the sandal tree, yet the sandal perfumes the axe.“ Guru Har Rai Ji

-“It is nearly impossible to be here now when you think there is somewhere else to be.” Guru Gobind Singh Ji

-“Dwell in peace in the home of your own being, and the Messenger of Death will not be able to touch you.” Guru Gobind Singh Ji

52 HUKAMS

- # 1 Dharam dee kirat karnee – Make an honest living.

-#21: “Kisae dee ninda, chugalee, atae eirkhaa nahee karnee”. “Do not gossip, nor slander, or be spiteful to anyone.”

#40 “Chugalee kar kisae da kam nahee vigaarnaa”: “Do not ruin anyone’s work by gossiping.”

-#44 “Pardaesee, lorvaan, dukhee, apung manukh dee yataahshkat seva karnee”: “Do as much possible to serve and aid foreigners, those in need, or in trouble.”

-52. Langar Parshaad ik ras vartaaunaa – Serve langar [free community kitchen of a gurdwara] and prashad with impartiality.

-Maan neeva Maat uchi (ਮੱਨ ਨੀਵਾਂ ਮੱਤ ਉੱਚੀ) this translates to mind low, morality high

Links to shabads/baani I enjoy listening to when I feel overwhelmed:

youtube

New additions to my family / Thing’s I’ve been enjoying

Revisions I’ve made for my project include links to the Shabads/baani I like to listen to. I also included a picture of the Harmandir Sahib, also known as the Golden Temple. I visited it for the first time with my dad in 2018 and have always looked forward to going back. My dad was a reason why my relationship with my religion got stronger. I decided to include pictures of my life now, to contrast how much I’ve grown since the beginning, and my newest family member, my dog Tommy. I never really thought of owning a dog, since I have a bird, but I’ve realized Tommy has done so much for my mental health, and honestly is the reason why I smile more. I started to go out more with my cousins and try more food spots and got back to socializing. I also started taking care of myself and listening to my body when I need a break. I decided to get a christmas tree and decorate it just to bring some “light back” into my life. I'm proud of myself for staying consistent with school and continuing to push myself. I enjoy going to coffee shops now and studying there.

Discussion posts:

Week 2: 9/6-9/9

Every morning I am awaken by the sound of my 6 am alarm

Which I set the night before at 3 am

I run to brush my teeth and almost fall going down the stairs to go chug cold brew

As I sit and drink my coffee all I can think about is 4 years from now

Where I'll be doing something I'm genuinely passionate about

Having no motivation to get ready, I drag myself into the shower

Then dress myself in the baggy clothes I love

I pack my bag and head out the door an hour and thirty minutes before my first class of the day

I already am thinking about coming home to stress about biology terms I need to study

I feel so behind even though I've made it so far

I find myself in my dining room with my i-pad and mac side to side and in between a plate of my dinner

Which I'm rushing to finish so I can make it before the deadline

I lay in bed for 3 hours until I finally fall asleep, not looking forward to the next day,

But the next 4 years from now.

This assignment was very meaningful to me because I was able to document my feelings/thoughts that I had during my first week. Looking back I can definitely say, I’ve made it very far now and don’t feel behind at all. I think it definitely was some type of imposter syndrome that had gotten to me which was making me feel like I didn’t deserve to be where I was. Looking back at this I can see how much I wanted to be done with my undergrad, and as much as I still do, I’ve learned to take it one day at a time.

Week 3: 9/13-9/16

All my life, I’ve been pronouncing my name incorrectly around people that aren't from the same cultural background as I am. Coming from a Punjabi family, when It came to discussing my name before I was born, my family members decided on basic yet simple names that could be pronounced by others easily. From Kiran to Simran to Preet. My family members spent weeks going back and forth. That all changed, the minute I was born. My Nani (grandmother) had blurted out Nandini. She seemed so confident in her choice, and chose my name to be Nandini as it translates to “one who brings happiness) in Sanskrit which was a clear indication of how I brought her happiness. But as I got older and gained more friends that were South Asian, I became more and more confident pronouncing my name the way it was supposed to be pronounced. My name not only is a sign of my cultural background, but I think of it as a gift. To be named by someone whom you love very much, and admire is the greatest gift that can ever been gifted. If you would've asked me if I wish I had been named something other than Nandini last year, I probably would’ve said “ I wish my mom stuck with Kiran or Simran” just so I’d be able to fit in with Punjabi people who have names like Harleen, Preet, Navleen. However if you’d ask me the same question today, I would say no. I would have a different sense of self, because my name simply would not be special to me. Maybe it would be easier to pronounce and wouldn't be required to be watered- down if it wasn’t Nandini, but that takes away from a person. I deep down believe that you start to become your name and you grow into it. You slowly start to view people as their name. If someone tells me that I look like a Preet or a Simran (which happens quite often) I feel a bit insulted, not at the fact that I don't like the name (they both have beautiful meanings) , because when I look at myself in a mirror, I see a Nandini. Throughout these two weeks being in college, I realize how stupid I sound “white-washing” my name. I almost stop myself for a second before I say “Naan-di-ni” and I think about the gift that my grandmother gave me, and think how insulting it would be to tell her that I have people pronounce my name another way, just so I don't feel embarrassed when they butcher it. My name is a representation of my background, and is what makes me stand out in a crowd. Throughout elementary school, teachers would refer to me as Natalie, Nadine, Nadina or Nadine. Although I do see why someone would accidentally call me Nadine, I don't think it’s excusable if one could pronounce Acetaminophen correctly without stuttering, but can’t Nandini.

Another assignment from the beginning of the semester was this one. Growing up I wasn’t really confident with the pronunciation within my life however, this had taught me that no matter what, if you’re not comfortable with anything in life, it is important to speak up. I always thought that pleasing people and allowing them to “get their way” was normal and that it always had to be that way. Eventually I learned the hard way.

Week 5: 9/27-9/30

I remember, how you’d honk outside waiting for me while I was still finishing up my breakfast

I remember, how you would turn around and smile at me while mom helped me into the car

I remember, you always asking me if I had my belt on

I remember, walking with mom to our store after school ended

I remember, running in and sitting on your lap

I remember, how you’d kiss my forehead, and ask me what I wanted to eat

And I’d say nothing

I remember, Sunday mornings, going to the gurdwara with you and doing seva

I remember, how’d you cook food for the homeless and give it out

I remember, how people stopped walking to shake your hand

I remember, how people addressed you as Kumar Sahb

I remember, when you’d cook Thai curry for us on your days off which I absolutely hated, but

grew to love

I remember how much you hated kidney beans

I remember how much you loved sweets

I remember, you coming into my room before I went to sleep and pressing my legs

I remember, vividly 3 years ago when you got sick,

I everyday remember, of how much pain you were in,

I remember you, telling everyone that I’d make a great doctor one day, because of the way I took care of you.

I remember, the day before you left

I remember, how you sang your favorite song for the last time,

I remember, you telling me what color Lexus you wanted to get me

I remember, how much you hated any car that wasn’t a Lexus

I remember the last thing you ate.

I remember the last words I said to you.

I will always remember how much you loved me.

This was a very sentimental assignment for me, I had written it to remember my father. Although I have mentioned my father multiple things about my father throughout my work, that is because I can’t seem to think any more farther back since he’s passed. In this poem, this is all I could really remember from what my childhood was like. I thought to incorporate it, because I spent a great amount of time writing it.

Week 9: 10/25-10/28

Although I didn’t understand or know the definition of food literacy before watching the episode for this week’s assignment, I had assumed that food literacy was learning about foods from different cultures, the ingredients which they’re made from and the cultural significance, if there is any. As someone who grew up in Jackson Heights and had lived there for sixteen years, I was always introduced to new cuisines, and never really was afraid of trying any. Many of my non-indian friends loved to go out with me and grab Indian food or would try foods from many other cultures, which eventually turned into a bonding experience. In a sense growing up in this environment, it made me appreciate small businesses from the start, as many of these were run by immigrant parents, like my own. Although my parents weren’t part of the food industry, yet they had their own clothing store. I remember coming back from school and my parents asking me what I’d wanted for lunch. Even if that meant, walking eight blocks down to 82nd street, where I’d find multiple Columbian, Mexican and Ecuadorian restaurants, or staying on 74th to grab lunch from any of the Indian Restaurants.

Food Literacy, is defined as “ is understanding the impact of your food choices on our health, environment, and economy” According to “https://www.foodliteracycenter.org/what-food-literacy

Links to an external site.

” However my definition of food literacy is, learning where your food came from and understanding how based off of certain locations/populations, food is able to bring people of many cultures together and help people to develop a positive relationship with food. Many people can find their favorite cuisines, by going out and experimenting, by trying stuff outside of their “comfort zone.”

Overall it provides an unforgettable experience for many. By watching the episode, people can learn exactly where their food is coming from. For example in the documentary, Evelia Coyotzi, a street vendor who migrated to Queens in the year 2000, gets to show people a day in her life. She starts her day around 7-8pm at night preparing tamales, and expresses the struggles that she had faced early on in her career. From getting harassed by the police and arrested 15- 16 times for selling tamales out of a cart, Evelia had eventually come to the conclusion of renting a vendor cart. She is now happy with her business, as she expressed that she sells almost 2,000 tamales on the weekends.

This assignment had motivated me to write about food literacy for the literacy narrative. I’ve always had a great relationship with food, since I was a kid. From trying many different cuisines to constantly being fed many dishes that were prepared by my parents. I also grew up in a very diverse area which allowed me to explore many different cultures. Although my project was based on pinni’s, it was fun talking about ,my culture.

#Youtube

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maximons · 3 years

Text

Tricks And Treats

Summary: Pietro tries to get Wanda and Y/n to finally admit their feelings for each other and takes them to a haunted house. Too bad Wanda is a full on scaredy cat...or is that exactly what is needed?

Word Count: 2,915

Genre: Fluff

Requested?: Yes

A/N: Finally back with the Fluff! Here’s that one shot I promised like a week ago lmao Happy Reading!

Halloween was for sure your favorite holiday.

You knew you were in the minority with that thought, seeing most people picked Christmas as their favorite, but you didn’t care. You always loved the time of year that came with Halloween, your birthday fell pretty close to it, you get to dress up and pretend to be someone else for a day, and it’s full on spooky season! What wasn’t there to love?

Well apparently a lot, at least according to your best friend Wanda.

For someone who’s a witch, you find it very funny that she doesn’t like the holiday.

You first met Wanda during the whole Ultron situation, back then she took on a more ‘emo’ appearance. Don’t tell anyone you said this, but you wouldn’t mind if she adopted the look again cause damn, so you just assumed Halloween and all things spooky would be for her, right?

Wrong.

You quickly learned that Wanda was not a fan of scary. You remember asking her to go see this new horror movie with you, it was your first time hanging out alone together and you just figured it’d be something she was into.

By the end of the movie, her face was buried in her knees, and she didn’t believe you when you told her the movie was over. The poor teenager working the theater was pretty annoyed with you both.

Needless to say, you didn’t bother her about anything spooky related again.

So when Pietro came to you two asking if you wanted to go to the new haunted house in town, you were beyond shocked that she agreed without a second thought.

“Uh, Wanda are you sure?” You asked, very hesitant. “I don’t know if you’ve ever been to a haunted house before, but-”

“I know what they are, Y/n.” Wanda cut you off before you finished, seeming very enthused, which confused you more. “I think it’ll be really cool!”

“Yeah...Wands, I know this group. This isn’t your typical ‘few scary decorations with the occasional light jump scare’ thing. These guys are intense.” You tried again. You didn’t know what had gotten into the witch, but you were sure she was making a mistake here.

“Y/n/n, relax. I’m not a child, I can handle myself. Trust me, okay? It’ll be great!” The bright smile on Wanda’s face was always a sight you welcomed, but it confused you in the moment. Still, you knew once her mind was set on something...let’s just say it’d be easier to find all the infinity stones than to talk her out of it.

“Alright, if you say so.” You shrugged, deciding it was best to drop the topic. Besides, she was right, Wanda’s a grown woman who can make her own choices. You just get to wait to be able to tell her that her choice was a stupid one. “So Friday night?” You asked Pietro, who nodded excitedly.

“Friday night!” He confirmed.

“Okay, cool.” You took another quick sip of your morning coffee before setting your mug down. “I gotta get ready for training. So happy to be working with Steve today instead of Nat, he’s always a walk in the park.” You said sarcastically with a roll of your eyes. “Wish me luck.”

The twins wished you luck as you left the room to go get ready. After they were sure you were out of earshot, the witch turned to her brother. “This is your plan? Are you crazy?”

“I know, I know, but trust me, okay?” He reassured, walking to the fridge to grab himself a drink. “Y/n loves this stuff, and as she is the love of your life-”

“Whoa, whoa, I-I never said-”

“-You should experience the things that she loves to do.” Pietro finished, ignoring his sister’s intervention. “I’ll do my best to stay out of your guys’ way, and you have the whole evening to yourselves. Sounds perfect to me.”

“Yeah, until I act like a complete, how do they say, ‘spaz’ around her again.” Wanda sighed, leaning on the kitchen counter in defeat.

“You won’t. You know what kind of things to expect now. And if you do freak out, all the more reason to be by her side. She will protect you.”

Wanda looked at her brother in confusion. “I can protect my self.”

Pietro rolled his eyes playfully. “Not what I meant. You will see, sestra.”

Friday night came before you know it, and you, Wanda and Pietro were waiting in the line to buy your tickets to enter.

“Holy shit, this is a long line.” Pietro complained, causing you to chuckle.

“Not surprising. It’s the week before Halloween, weather’s nice, and this group doesn’t come to New York a whole lot. More surprised it isn’t longer actually.” You shrugged.

“Why don’t they come to New York? I thought this was one of America’s more popular states?” Wanda asked.

“It is, but ever since Loki invaded and our merry band of misfits formed, tourism and things like this have been down a whole lot.” You leaned down to get closer to Wanda’s ear. “I guess we’ve been the scary ones all along.” You joked, but Wanda was more focused on trying to calm down and forget the feeling of your breath against her ear.

“Everything alright there, Wanda?” Pietro asked after a moment, teasing smirk on his face. Before Wanda could even fire back, a voice from in front of you spoke up.

“No way! You guys are Avengers!” The group in front of you turned around, one of the guys recognized you instantly.

“Uh, yes...we are.” Wanda awkwardly stated. You knew Wanda hated fan interactions, and to be honest you weren’t a fan of these situations either. They were unpredictable. The Avengers were either beloved or despised, and you’ve been on both ends of the reaction spectrum. Wanda and Pietro, unfortunately, have seen a lot more animosity than you and the others.

Honestly, you couldn’t even fault the ones that didn’t love you guys. You weren’t ignorant and knew your battles have caused a lot of problems for a lot of people. You could sympathize, but that didn’t mean you wanted to be on the receiving end of that anger. Especially not when you were trying to just have a fun night out with your friends. “Look guys, we’re really just here to have a good time. We don’t wanna cause a scene.” You said.

“Nah, nah, it’s cool. I think you guys are awesome!” The guy said, and it was clear to you then that the dude was baked out of his mind. “Especially you, with the red wiggly woos!” He pointed to Wanda as he gave a terrible impression of her hand movements. You smiled, happy to see a fan interaction go well for Wanda.

The joy you felt didn’t last long though, as another guy in the group turned to you, blunt in his hand. “Hey, you’re the fire one right? Can you do me a solid?” He gestured to you, asking you to give him a light. You sighed, the twins chuckling at the situation.

“Yeah, but don’t ask again.” You ignited the tip of your finger, gently placing it on the end of the blunt. The group turned around in line and continued to go about their own conversation. You felt Wanda elbow your side, and you turned to see a smirk on her face. When you heard Pietro’s snicker, you groaned.

“Shut up.”

“Look at you, helping delinquents. Aren’t you supposed to be a superhero? Bringer of justice and all of that?” Wanda teased and you rolled your eyes playfully.

“Yeah, but I’m the fun one. It’s just weed.” You said confidently, but the witch saw through it and you dropped the act. “And the last time that happened and I said no, the dude burst into tears.” You said under your breath.

“There it is.” She smiled, and you couldn’t help but smile back despite you being the subject of mockery. You loved seeing her smile, you didn’t care about the reason why.

Before you knew it, Pietro announced that you guys were next in line to buy tickets. He bought his and stepped aside so you can go next. “Hi, two please.” Wanda turned to you with her eyebrows scrunched in confusion.

“Wha- Y/n, I can afford it.” She chuckled nervously, flattered by the action.

“I know, but when I have to drag you out of here cause you’re paralyzed in fear, at least you won’t regret dropping forty bucks on it.” You shrugged as you handed the cashier your credit card.

Wanda’s face reddened, something she quickly tried to hide from her brother who was enjoying this way too much. Her flustered state faded quickly when she processed what you said. “Hey!” You chuckled before thanking the cashier as she returned your card.

“Please go to the table to sign your waivers, entrance is down that hill. Enjoy your night.” The monotone voice told you that the poor woman’s been working all night. You didn’t have time to dwell on that though as you felt a panicked tapping on your arm.

“What’s wrong? We haven’t even entered yet.” You teased.

“W-what did she mean by waivers?” You chuckled at the panicked tone in the witch’s voice.

“Just means if you have a heart attack or something, you can’t sue.” You shrugged nonchalantly, but Wanda took it very seriously and turned to you with even wider eyes.

“That can happen!?”

“Well, it happened at least once if the thought of doing a waiver.” You answered, once again, nonchalantly. You looked at Wanda and could swear you saw her blood run cold. You laughed, which resulted in you receiving a glare. “Relax, Wan, you’ll be fine. You’re an Avenger, you’ve faced off against killer robots, stared death in the face time and time again!” You exclaimed dramatically as you waved your arms. You noticed Wanda start to smile and relax her shoulders.

“Thanks, Y/n.” She gave you a sweet smile, and you couldn’t help but melt.

“Yeah, anytime.” Your eyes locked with Wanda, you were about to look away but couldn’t. ‘Wow, were her eyes always this green? They’re beautiful.’ You thought.

A blush appeared on the witch’s face as she tore her gaze from you. You were about to ask what happened, but were interrupted. “Let’s go slow pokes!” Pietro’s voice shouted, effectively breaking the moment.

“Yeah, yeah Sonic, we’re coming!” You rolled your eyes as you shouted back. Wanda giggled at the banter between you and her brother, she loved that you two were close. With that, you and her headed down the hill towards the entrance.

After about a half hour, it seemed Wanda was holding up well. The three of you walked out of the corn maze, and she had a triumphant smile on her face. “I thought you said this place was scary.” She teased causing you to roll your eyes playfully.

“Congratulations you survived the corn maze, you get to join the hall of fame with the other twelve year-olds.” As if to emphasize your point, three twelve year-olds ran out of the maze in giggles, clearly unaffected. Wanda pouted. “Aw, don’t worry. I thought you were very brave.” You teased yet again, which resulted in an elbow to the side.

“You’re a jerk.” Wanda held back a smile as she strutted forward. You laughed as you jogged forward to catch up.

“Alright, are you guys ready for the big one?” Pietro asked and your eyes widened.

“Oh, Piet, I don’t think that’s a good idea.” You said as you nudged your head towards Wanda, hinting that you didn’t think she could handle that. Unfortunately, she caught on.

“Aw come on, Y/n. I’m not a baby.”

“I know, but you can’t go from the corn maze to...that.” You gestured towards the haunted maze entrance, a giant purple demon with smoke blowing out of it’s ears looming over. You guys turned at the sound of screams, and saw a group run out of the maze in fear, which then dissolved into laughter.

“They seem to be having fun.” Wanda gestured towards the group.

“Yeah, after the screams of terror.” You shot back. “You can’t go from walking around the block to running a marathon.”

“Oh yeah? Watch me.” Wanda strutted forward towards the entrance, determined to prove you wrong.

You groaned as you looked over to Pietro, who watched the whole ordeal with a cheeky smile. “Your sister’s insane.”

“Yeah, but you love it.” Pietro said under his breath, but you still heard it.

“What?”

“Nothing!” With that, the man sped forward, catching up to his sister at the entrance. You stared after him for a moment in shock before joining them.

The three of you walked the path, and everything seemed to be going well...for all of five seconds. The first jump scare happened behind Wanda. The loud screech startled her, and she jumped with a scream. She stumbled into your arms, and you wrapped them around her in order to keep her from falling. You chuckled, and Wanda looked up at you with the intention to glare. However, when your eyes locked again, Wanda couldn’t help but stare.

You, of course, had to ruin the moment. “Not too late to turn back, y’know. This is just the beginning.” Wanda groaned and pulled away from you, continuing forward. You laughed. “You can hold my hand if you want!” You don’t know what compelled you to say that, but you knew you weren’t entirely joking.

And you didn’t regret it when Wanda reached out and held your hand without another word. You smiled, squeezing her hand.

What you didn’t see was Pietro giving Wanda a thumbs up as you both walked past.

At some point, you guys lost Pietro in the dark maze. Wanda wasn’t even worried as she still held your hand tightly, and you knew the man would be fine and he’ll meet up with you at the exit.

Wanda had been holding up better than you thought. You wouldn’t say she was good per say, seeing as she screamed and practically jumped into your arms at the slightest sound, but she hadn’t collapsed on the ground in tears yet, so you’d count that as a win.

“Gotta say, Maximoff. I’m impressed.” You said as you two walked down the maze hand in hand.

“I’m just being that super brave Avenger like you said.” Wanda giggled, and you couldn’t help but melt at the noise.

“Well you’re doing an awesome job. Even if the last three guys almost made you pee your pants.” You laughed loudly as you took in the shocked reaction the woman gave you.

“Y/n!” She scolded, but before you could even respond, the worst jump scare yet occurred.

A large animatronic growled and lowered from the ceiling right behind Wanda. The witch turned to look briefly as she screamed loudly and jumped to you again. This time, however she literally jumped into your arms. You quickly braced your hands under her thighs, catching her, as she wrapped her legs around your waist. The force from the jump caused you to stumble back into a darker corner of the maze. Your back hit a hay wall, and you and Wanda laughed at the moment. Your laughter continued for a moment, and Wanda lifted her head from your shoulder to look into your eyes. Both of you got quiet as you continued to stare, sensing the moment shift.

“You okay?” You whispered, almost as if talking to loudly would shatter the moment. Wanda nodded, eyes still locked onto yours. After a moment of silence, she spoke up.

“Y’know...I think a distraction would help.” Your eyebrows shot up at the insinuation. You doubted you heard her correctly, but when you saw her eyes shift down to your lips, you knew what she wanted. And you wouldn’t lie and say you didn’t want it too.

“I...Yeah, I think I could help with that.” You barely got your sentence out when Wanda smashed her lips to yours roughly. You tightened your hold on her thighs as she wrapped her arms around your neck. You stood there, making out roughly against the wall of the maze. As wild and sudden as this was, you wouldn’t trade this moment for anything.

Pietro noticed you two were gone for a really long time. He was beginning to get concerned, and pulled out his phone ready to call one of you. Turns out he didn’t need to.

You two came out of the maze, only you weren’t alone. You and Wanda each had a security guard holding your arm. After you two were out of the maze completely, they let you go and walked off. It was then that Pietro noticed both of your disheveled states. And he could swear he saw two or three hickeys forming on your neck.

“No you didn’t-” He started, but you cut him off.

“Not a word.” Your hand found it’s way to Wanda’s as you guys walked towards the exit of the park, figuring it’d be bad Avengers press if you guys stayed any longer at this point. You had an awesome night anyway, and didn’t care if it ended a little early. Besides, you had a feeling you’d get to have some more...fun when you got back to the compound.

You didn’t notice Pietro high five Wanda’s free hand.

#wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x reader

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heyiwrotesomethings · 3 years

Text

Calling Out For Her

Cassandra Dimitrescu x She/Her Reader

A/N: Cassandra is my favorite I just love that girl. I thought it was real neat that Lady D could just call out for her and she’d appear so that inspired this. Some typical resident evil violence and language in here and Cassandra isn’t exactly nice at first, but she figures out how to be personable...kinda. Thanks for reading! Word Count: 6,158

(Y/n) was exceptionally careful. If tasked to understand what had allowed her to survive in the castle for so long, she would say it was because she was so careful, meticulous, with her work. All she had to do was follow a certain set of rules.

A polite tone brimming with reverence, ‘Yes Lady Dimitrescu’ or, ‘yes ladies Bela, Cassandra and Daniela’. Never a no, even if warranted, unless you want your eyes level with your toes and cool air meeting your stump of a neck. Always serve with a curtsy, never meet their eyes, never ask questions, keep your head down and clean, clean, clean like your life depends on it because like with everything else, it does.

The bottom line was that (Y/n) knew how to survive in the castle of Dimitrescu. It took tact, forward thinking, and a bit of luck. But today, after a very respectable nine months of service, (Y/n)’s luck had apparently run out. She had royally fucked up.

“Oh, fuck me—!“ (Y/n) hissed, followed by a sharp gasp as her grip slipped because of the dip of the chandelier.

She had no one to blame but herself. She had been assigned to clean the banisters and chandeliers of the foyer and had leaned out just a little too far with her duster. Thus, her scramble for purchase on the confounding light fixture to save her from cracking her skull on the marble floor below.

“H...help!” (Y/n) called, barely above her usual speaking tone. She dared not speak louder for fear of alerting any of the bloodthirsty daughters of her predicament. She could only hope one of her fellow maids was working nearby.

“No, nonono—“ the words left (Y/n)’s mouth faster than her lips could move. One of the metal weldings that held up the chandelier was creaking and becoming dangerously loose as time ticked by.

“Help!” (Y/n) called a little louder, the desperation bleeding into her tone as her fingers dug painfully into the decorative, jewel encrusted rim of the chandelier.

Yet still not a sound besides the creak of old metal giving way. Nine months of service to the Lady of the Castle and this was never how (Y/n) imagined she’d go. It wasn’t uncommon for some maids to take their life by their own hand, but (Y/n) wanted to keep fighting—!

“Ah!” (Y/n) cried sharply. The chandelier’s tether frayed a bit further, causing it to drop a few inches. She was fully panicking now, arms aching and chest heaving as she dangled. She made the mistake of looking at the cold, hard floor below and that only made her heart beat faster. She didn’t want to go out like this!

The chandelier fell another inch, stinging (Y/n)’s fingers. She was gripping so hard she was sure her fingers must have been bleeding. She needed someone, anyone to come and somehow in her panicked state, she thought of her Lady. If her Lady needed something done and done fast, all she had to do was call out her name and she would be there in an instant. Somehow in (Y/n)’s desperate mind, she thought that calling upon the most ruthless of the Dimitrescu Family was her best course of action.

“Cassandra!” (Y/n) yelled, closing her eyes tightly and fighting to maintain her precarious grip.

For a few seconds, there was just the creaking the chandelier and (Y/n) didn’t know whether to be relieved or devastated by the silence. Before she could resign herself to her fate, a faint buzzing could be heard below, growing in intensity until (Y/n) could see the swarm of blowflies collecting below her until they completely formed the middle Dimitrescu daughter. She looked up at (Y/n) with a sneer on her blood stained lips.

“Well, well, well. I must say that this is a first for me.” Cassandra hummed, a fist over her hip as she craned her head up, twisting this way and that to really get a good look. Yes, a maid hanging from a chandelier must have been a novelty to the monstrous woman indeed.

“Just how did you get into this predicament little mouse? Perhaps you are more of a monkey, hmm?” Cassandra giggled sadistically before idly licking the blood from her lips, smearing it around more than anything.

“I leaned too far over the banister while I was dusting.” (Y/n) explained through clenched teeth, trying to maintain her aching grip.

“Mmm, how clumsy of you.” Cassandra laughed again, moving her arms to rest across her chest, she propped her chin up in her gloved hand as she regarded (Y/n) with glee. “You know, I was going to skin you alive. You had called me away from cellar time after all, new arrivals are always the most fun to break. Not to mention that you, some lowly maid, think that I, a noblewoman of the House, am at your beck and call. Yes, I was going to kill you myself but now I’m curious,” Cassandra’s smirk widened to a full blown maniacal grin, “what will give out first? Your arms, or the chandelier?”

“Lady Cassandra, please!” (Y/n) wasn’t sure where she thought pleading would get her, but people will do all kinds of things they wouldn’t normally do under duress. Including begging a known sadistic killer to save them from certain death.

“Oh, she remembers her manners!” Cassandra mocked, “Do me a favor and just fall already. I fear I might be developing a crick in my neck.”

(Y/n) could feel the heat of incoming tears sting her eyes as she dangled several feet above her one woman audience. Well, no one could say she didn’t try. She started mumbling a little prayer for herself that turned into a yelp as the chandelier fell another half a foot, a much larger drop than the occasional two to three inches. The sudden gravity shift yanked (Y/n)’s hands clean off the chandelier, slicing her skin terribly as she tried to grab back on. She missed, she was falling.

(Y/n) couldn’t even scream, she just closed her eyes as tightly as she could and waited to meet the ground... speaking of which, shouldn’t she have hit it already?

(Y/n) peeled open an eye and slowly allowed herself to finally take in the buzzing that was surrounding her. Blowflies. She peered down past the swarm to see Cassandra, half formed with her arms outstretched, ready to receive her. (Y/n) could only stare, mouth slightly agape, as she was settled in Cassandra’s arms, watching the blowflies that had carried her mesh back into Cassandra’s legs.

“Why so surprised?” Cassandra asked with a mock sweetness that made (Y/n) shiver, “I simply couldn’t let you die just yet. No, I think I’d like to play with you just a little while longer.”

Cassandra happened to glance at the bloody hands clutched tightly to the maid’s chest and hummed. Adjusting her strong hold on the paralyzed maiden, she clutched the outermost wrist tightly and pulled it to her bloodied lips for a sample.

“Mm,” Cassandra appraised, passing her tongue over the cuts again, “yes, I think I’ll enjoy taking my time with you.” She cackled before unceremoniously dropping (Y/n) to the floor at a much safer, but still painful height.

“Go patch yourself up, my prey. You’re dismissed.” She said and then, she dispersed into a swarm of blowflies and was gone, her laughter bouncing off of the high ceilings.

(Y/n) sat on the floor dumbstruck, before finally getting up on shaky legs. She made her way to the maid’s quarters and upon seeing that it was empty, she allowed herself to cry as she cleaned and dressed her fingers. Lady Cassandra had saved her, saved her for a worse fate by her own hand no doubt. All she could do was wait.

***

Cassandra was a menace.

After the chandelier incident, (Y/n) found herself assigned to areas of the castle that Cassandra was known to frequent. There was never a minute’s rest when the middle child was free from her mother and sisters and even if Cassandra was occupied, (Y/n) often found herself nipped by the occasional stray blowfly as she did her work. There was no question in her mind where they had come from.

Yes, having caught Lady Cassandra’s eye had created a lot of extra work for the poor girl with extra antagonism. She’d poke and prod and pull, jostling (Y/n) around while she tried to stay on task. She would drag bloodied bodies through the carpeted halls (Y/n) had just cleaned and laugh as the poor maid went to restock her cleaning supplies. Cassandra would even demand (Y/n) drop everything to run her baths when she had grow tired of running around with blood smeared all over her like a toddler left alone with finger paints. She’d smugly present her bloodied face to (Y/n), silently demanding she wipe it clean for her and when she was satisfied, she would lean back in her tub and order (Y/n) to clean the bloodied weapons she’d drop dangerously close to her feet.

Cassandra was insufferable, yet, (Y/n) couldn’t help but think positively because it could have easily been much worse. For as taxing as dealing with Cassandra could be, she had never hurt her, not really anyway. Not like the poor maid who went to clean the armory and left with one less arm than she went in with. The occasional bite of a blowfly stung and the shoves and pinches could be bruising, but at least she still had all her limbs, no broken bones or sickle scars puckering her skin.

(Y/n) sighed to herself as she polished the same battle axe for the third time that week. She was the only maid allowed to clean the armory anymore after Bianca lost her arm. Lady Cassandra had said that only (Y/n) knew how to clean her toys with proper care and could make them twice as shiny and sharp. A few of the other maids would darkly joke with (Y/n) in the serving quarters about the middle Dimitrescu having a crush on her, but (Y/n) would simply dismiss their gossip and continue her work without complaint. Such rumors could be dangerous after all.

As (Y/n) heaved the axe back into its place on the wall, she heard the thrum of quick light feet running across the carpeted hall just outside. She frowned to herself, but kept working. Assuming it was just just another poor girl who was in the wrong place at the wrong time. However the door the the armory clicked open, and the slightly out of breath maid (Y/n) recognized as Moiara peaked in, flushed from all her running no doubt.

“Lady Dimitrescu is ordering all of the maids back to their quarters immediately.” The girl urgently informed.

“Whatever for?” (Y/n) asked, brows furrowed in concern. It was a most unusual order.

“Apparently a pack of Moroaica have escaped the cellar and are currently roaming the castle. The Lady’s daughters are hunting them down, but it could take some time to clear everything up. Lady Dimitrescu doesn’t wish to lose more workers than she can replace.” Moiara explained, albeit the last line came out a touch bitterly.

“I understand, I’ll make my way now. Be safe.”

“Thank you.” Moiara nodded before darting off again.

(Y/n) cautiously made her way to the door and peered down both ends of the hallway. Noting that it was clear, she left the doorway and shut the armory door before quickly walking in the direction of the maid’s quarters. It was quite a walk and (Y/n)’s heart went out to Moiara and the rest of the girls who were still scattered further within the castle’s walls.

The halls were eerily quiet and empty, not unusual, but with the added threat lurking, well, it made it a tad more unsettling. It was laughable really, for (Y/n) to be afraid now. The threat of death loomed over her head constantly and only now she was concerned?

(Y/n) chuckled despite herself as she rounded another bend, hardly checking her surroundings as she crossed the third hallway and then the fourth.

“Oh!” (Y/n) tripped on a raised wrinkle in the rug, her hand automatically grasped the curtain beside her to steady herself. She was lucky it didn’t rip or surely the Lady of the House would have her head, never mind the Moroaica.

As she made to steady herself on her own two feet again, the curtain she had grasped twisted harshly and was ripped from her surprised and slackened grip. (Y/n) felt her blood run cold and her feet turn to lead as the ‘curtain’ reached out for her, revealing rotten, gnarled fingers that snapped (Y/n)’s bicep in a firm squeeze. As it completed its turn, (Y/n) saw scraggly, yellowed teeth lunge for her neck.

She attempted to keep the stray Moroaica at bay. The whole interaction, frightening and life threatening as it was, was a near silent struggle. It was as if (Y/n) had lost her voice completely. All that came from her were stuttering gasps as the creature snarled and snapped at her.

It wrestled her to the floor and clawed at her clothes and skin, drawing the blood that it seemed to desperately crave. (Y/n) struggled and kicked at the creature but it was unrelenting and finally something happened that helped (Y/n) find her voice, she screamed.

The Moroaica clawed at her ribs, tearing fabric, skin and muscle alike. (Y/n)’s fighting grew weaker the more the monster dug at her and her mouth was still parted from her pained screams but they were now near silent croaks as the pain and blood loss threatened her consciousness. Seemingly noticing her weakened state, the Moroaica neared its yellowing teeth to her exposed flesh and—

“Oo, look Bela! I found another one~!”

(Y/n) reflexively closed her eyes and felt something hot and wet splatter across her face. She heard a squelching noise and felt dead weight fall against her body as Daniela’s giggles filled the hall.

“You shouldn’t be having so much fun.” Bela grumbled at her sister. “I knew mother should have sent you to your room. It would have been a more fitting punishment.”

“Okay, so maybe I forgot to lock the cellar, but you can’t say you aren’t having a good time as well.” Daniela said, grinning when Bela rolled her eyes, a small shadow of a smile forming on the eldest sister’s lips.

“Aw, look,” Daniela grunted, kicking at the dead Moroaica until its corpse rolled off of (Y/n), “well, let’s not let her go to waste. Her blood still smells good.”

“Wait, Daniela,” Bela said, holding her younger sister’s shoulder as she peered down at the bloodied maid her breaths coming raggedly as she fought to open her eyes. Bela sniffed and winced, shooting her sister a look.

“Daniela, take a closer look.”

“Ugh, fine,” the youngest groaned and leaned forward, “I don’t see why...” Daniela paused, her back went rigid. She just stared at (Y/n) for a few moments before finally turning to her sister, lips pursed.

“Cass is literally going to kill me.”

“You think?” Bela said, almost with complete disinterest.

“Well, don’t just stand there. Help me! If she dies, I die!” Daniela hissed, couching beside (Y/n) to assess the damage.

“I don’t know, I think I would kind of like to see Cassandra hunt you for sport.” Bela smirked.

“Bela!”

“Alright, alright.” Bela sighed, couching at (Y/n)’s other side.

The last thing the maid could make out before succumbing to unconsciousness was a dull, muffled buzzing and a feeling of weightlessness.

***

When (Y/n) awoke, she immediately noted that her throat was drier than a desert wind; her stomach and ribs also burned and itched like nothing she had ever experienced. She gingerly touched her stomach and found it covered in bandages. Her head ached so she pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes for a few moments.

With great effort she hoisted herself into a sitting position and had to do a double take of her surroundings. This was not the maid’s quarters and given the amount of time she had been spending in here lately, she was quick to realize she was in Lady Cassandra’s room, in her bed. Before (Y/n) could really let it all sink in, the door was yanked open.

Cassandra stalked in, shutting the door tightly behind her before standing over (Y/n) with a fire blazing in her golden eyes. A blowfly (Y/n) had initially failed to notice crawled down the bedpost before meshing back into Cassandra’s body. Apparently she had been being watched.

“Why didn’t you call for me?” Cassandra gritted out, gripping the bedpost so hard (Y/n) was afraid it would splinter.

“Lady Cassandra?” (Y/n) questioned, still feeling numb and achy and not at all ready for such aggressive energy.

“Glad to know you still remember.”Cassandra said mockingly before her voice became low and serious again, “You were in trouble, why didn’t you call for me?”

“I don’t...” (Y/n) winced and held her head, it felt like she was on a boat in rocky waters.

Cassandra took notice and with surprising gentleness, lowered (Y/n) to rest fully against the bed once more. She even offered (Y/n) water and helped her drink. Then she checked her temperature, the cool touch of her skin felt wonderful against (Y/n)’s aching head.

“What happened?” (Y/n) murmured, whining when Cassandra went to remove her hand. A bit hesitantly, she put it back. A small, prideful smile curved at her lips when (Y/n) relaxed against her touch.

“Don’t you remember?” Cassandra scoffed, “I swear, you humans are so unbelievably fragile. You were attacked by a Moroaica that strayed from its pack. Bela and the idiot who caused the whole mess found you. I did some sucking up to mother and we fixed you up with a little herbal remedy,” Cassandra frowned her voice becoming a tad accusatory, “Yet you still slept for a long time.”

“I’m sorry to have been an inconvenience Lady Cassandra.” (Y/n) spoke up after trying to absorb all that Cassandra had told her. Surely it would have taken more than a, ‘little herbal remedy’ to fix what had happened to her.

(Y/n) scrunched her eyes shut when Cassandra suddenly growled and pinched the maid’s nose.

“I’m glad you realize it. Do you know how infuriating it is to watch another maid handle my weaponry all wrong? To not make my room the way that I like it? Ugh, I’d have killed them all if mother let me.” She let go of (Y/n)’s nose, swiping the side of her index finger playfully over the bridge a couple times before re-settling her hand over (Y/n)’s cheek.

“That’s why, when you’re all better, you are going to have to train one of those imbeciles how to do it right.”

“I can do it myself, Lady Cassandra. I can get back to work tomorrow I’m sure of it.” (Y/n) nearly pleaded. She was sure any girl she trained would end up killed anyway. There were too many little things that could set Cassandra off to count.

“There is no more cleaning for you. You’re retired.”

“Retired?” (Y/n) couldn’t help but gawk up at Cassandra. The notion was wholly unbelievable. No one retired from serving the Dimitrescus’ unless you counted dying as a form of retirement.

“Yes.” Cassandra said with near vicious finality.

“Lady Cassandra, my parents count on the lei I send them from my job here, please reconsider. There is no work for me back at the village and I’d just be another mouth my family cannot afford to feed.” (Y/n) beseeched, her body quaked with fever.

“Calm yourself.” Cassandra spoke as if attempting to be soft, but was still very on edge. “Your family will still receive money. You aren’t going back to the village.”

“I’m not?” (Y/n)’s brows drew together with further confusion, “but, then what will be my purpose if I’m not to work?”

“Does it really matter?” Cassandra flustered, a buzzing sound filled the space between them, “Your family is getting money and you don’t have to do anything for it, be grateful!” Cassandra pinched (Y/n)’s cheek a bit harshly before standing and stalking away. The buzzing following her as she tore the door open once more.

“I’ll be back with lunch.” The Dimitrescu grumbled before closing the door behind her once more.

“What is going on?” (Y/n) whispered to herself in disbelief before resting her head fully back against the pillow. She caught movement in the corner of her eye and turned her head just in time to watch a blowfly crawl back into the dark canopy of the bed.

***

(Y/n) wasn’t sure what to do with herself. Suddenly, she had all this free time on her hands and would for a long time apparently. It was nice when she was still recovering, but now that she had healed, she felt antsy.

Cassandra had handpicked a trembling maid for (Y/n) to train, but even those sessions did not last long as the poor girl, Anca was her name, was still expected to complete other chores. Something that did help to pass the time however was Cassandra herself, strangely enough. She was always the one to bring (Y/n) meals unless she was busy with some task her mother had given her, also giving (Y/n) little gifts and talking to her throughout each day. Sometimes the ‘gifts’ were gruesome and the talks seemed more like interrogations, but the effort in which Cassandra put into every interaction left (Y/n) intrigued with, and appreciative of the middle child.

Now wasn’t one of those times unfortunately, and (Y/n) found herself pacing the floor of her room, yes, one of her very own. Given to her by Cassandra right across the hall from her own. Now that she was well enough to do more on her own, she had been moved there about three weeks ago to have her own space. Another thing that was unheard of coming from the middle Dimitrescu. (Y/n) paused by the window to look out upon the snowy ground below.

“Miss (Y/n)?” A knock on the door, “May I speak with you?”

“Anca,” (Y/n) paused her paces, that was strange. There had been no plans for a lesson tonight. Nevertheless, (Y/n) was happy for the company. Ever since Cassandra had removed her from service, the other maids had avoided (Y/n) like a plague “please come in.”

The nervous little maid came in, closing the door tightly behind her, shoulders stiff as she slowly approached and took a seat in the chair (Y/n) offered to her.

“Are you alright? You’re shaking.” (Y/n) frowned, reaching out to comfort her only to watch Anca shrink away from her hand.

“Lady Cassandra,” she spoke, looking wildly around the room, “she will kill me I’m sure of it. What game are you playing?”

“Game? I’m playing no game.” (Y/n) tried to assure. “Has she said anything to you? I promise I’m covering every base I can—”

“You aren’t doing enough!” She screeched, startling the other. “I’ve seen the way she treats you. The privileges you’ve gained. This is all a set up! You were in my shoes not long ago, have you really lost your humanity so quickly?”

“Anca, please, calm yourself. I’m not working against you, I swear.” (Y/n) tried to explain. “Tell me what’s wrong, let me help you. How can I help you?”

“How?” Anca mumbled, rubbing at her dark rimmed eyes. “It’s all because of you that I’m in this mess to begin with!”

“I’m sorry you feel that way, Anca.”

“No, I really don’t think you are.” Anca sniffed, rising from her chair. “But maybe there is something you can do to help me. I’m already dead, but I want to hurt Lady Cassandra before I go and I think I can do just that,” she pulled a knife from her apron, “if I take you down with me!”

“Anca!” (Y/n) screamed, stumbling away just before the knife could strike her.

“Just hold still! I’ll do it fast, please!” Anca cried as she swiped at her again. “Let me just have this one thing! This one last fuck you to this hell hole!”

“Stop! You’re making a mistake!” (Y/n) tried again, wrestling with Anca for the knife.

The scuffle went on for minutes before (Y/n) was thrown to the back wall, the knife missed her head just barely and sunk into the wood behind her. As Anca struggled to hold her in place and wedge the knife free, (Y/n) called out for her without even realizing it until the blood drained from Anca’s face.

“Cassandra!”

“No, shut up! Shut up you bitch!” Anca squealed, rocking the knife more vigorously.

“Cass—“ (Y/n) tried to call out again, this time fully aware of what she was doing, only to be head-butted by Anca in a desperate attempt to quiet her while she continued to work at the knife.

It was too late for that however, as proven by angry buzzing sounds roaring through the hallway and sliding under the door before forming right at Anca’s back, a cold hand joined Anca’s over the knife and grasped her so hard, (Y/n) could hear the maid’s fingers crack.

“You want this knife, do you?” Cassandra sneered, “Please, allow me.”

Cassandra tugged the knife from the wall like it had been warm butter, Anca’s hand still clenched in her own. She used her other arm to pull Anca off of (Y/n) with a rough tug and hardly took more than a few steps away before plunging the knife deep into the girl’s chest.

“There you go. You’re welcome you miserable little wretch.” Cassandra raked the knife downward, slicing Anca’s flesh all the way down to the hip as the poor girl screamed. “That will teach you to touch what doesn’t belong to you!”

(Y/n) could only watch, wide-eyed and trembling as Cassandra dissolved into her swarm, allowing Anca to fall to the floor before hundreds of little mouths began working at her flesh until the screaming ceased and all that was discernible was a frozen expression of agony on Anca’s face.

The blowflies came back together after a few more moments of feeding and Cassandra reformed, crouched beside (Y/n). (Y/n) didn’t even realize she had sunk to the floor during the gruesome attack.

Cassandra raised a blood covered hand to (Y/n)’s cheek, turning the face in her grasp, she assessed the damage, buzzing all the while. Somehow the sound felt, calming, reassuring. (Y/n) didn’t even flinch away from her touches and instead found herself leaning into them.

“Just look at what that thing did to you,” Cassandra hissed as she watched the blood leak from (Y/n)’s nose, “I should have killed her even slower.”

(Y/n) sniffled, leaning her head on Cassandra’s shoulder, “Thank you for coming.”

“I’ll always come to you if you call for me,” Cassandra sighed and pulled (Y/n) into her lap. She smelled almost overwhelmingly of blood, but (Y/n) couldn’t bring herself to care. “No one has ever called for me like you have before. No one that wasn’t my mother or sisters anyway,” Cassandra bit her lip, “I... at first, I was enraged that you called for me that first time, but the more I thought about it... Ugh! You made me feel all gross and buzzy inside. I’m just so used to humans fearing me, associating me with death. Never have I been called by one expecting to be saved from it.”

“Is that why you helped me after that Moroaica had attacked me?” (Y/n) asked, her voice still muffled by Cassandra’s shoulder. She didn’t really want to catch sight of Anca’s remains again while in the arms of her killer.

“Yes. I’m still mad at you for that.” Cassandra growled, “Why didn’t you call for me that time? I thought we had an understanding.”

“I’m sorry,” (Y/n) chuckled despite everything, “But I think understandings are usually met through open communication. I’m sorry I didn’t interpret your bug bites and general antagonisms as anything but blatant harassment.”

“Excuse me?” Cassandra snarled, reminding (Y/n) just how frightening she could be.

“I, I’m sorry Lady Cassandra. I forget myself.” (Y/n) stammered before gasping as Cassandra effortlessly rose to her feet with (Y/n) still in her arms.

“You must be awfully tired to be so mouthy. I can’t imagine you’ll want to sleep with a corpse on your rug so you’ll just have to sleep in my room until the maids clean this mess up. I suppose I’ll need to fix your nose too. So fragile, my prey is.” Cassandra sighed, clearly feeling inconvenienced by the whole situation. Though she carefully maneuvered out of the doorway so (Y/n) wouldn’t bump against it as they made the short trip across the hall to her room.

“You treat me quite well for being prey.” (Y/n) tested with caution. “You protect me, but why? Is it all so you can end me yourself at your own leisure?”

“Oh wow Cass, you really know how to make a maiden feel special.”

“I knew she was full of it, Bela! I bet they haven’t so much as kissed yet!”

(Y/n) felt Cassandra’s grip on her tighten as the mocking voices of her sisters closed in on them before Cassandra could slink into her room.

“Shut the hell up and mind your own business!” Cassandra fumed, crossing the threshold into her room before kicking the door shut, making a thunderous slam reverberate off of the castle walls.

Bela and Daniela merely giggled, seeping through the cracks of the doors before reforming over their sister’s bed, nearly falling on top of each other as Cassandra sped past them to take (Y/n) into her en-suite bathroom.

She placed (Y/n) on top on the counter and tweaked her nose without warning, making (Y/n) yelp in pain.

“Quiet prey, I needed to set your nose back into place is all,” Cassandra wrinkled her nose as more blood oozed from the abused cartilage, “damn, why must you smell so enticing.”

(Y/n) couldn’t find any words, both because her nose stung like hell and she was still stuck on what Daniela and Bela were taunting Cassandra about, so she just managed a small shrug.

Cassandra hardly seemed to mind her lack of verbal response. She was too busy grinding her teeth as her sisters continued to whisper and laugh in the bedroom. Cassandra quickly wiped and stuffed (Y/n)’s nose, nearly hissing at her to remain still before going back to deal with her unruly siblings, licking the stray blood from her fingers as she went.

(Y/n) tried to give her some privacy, she really did, but it was hard not to listen in when they were speaking so loudly, and about herself no less.

“You two get out of my room, now!” Cassandra commanded.

“Why? It’s not like anything unseemly is going to be happening in here. Right, Daniela?” Bela giggled while Daniela downright cackled with glee.

“Get. Out. Now!” Cassandra bellowed.

“Oh no Cassie,” Daniela waggled a finger, snatching it back before Cassandra could bite it, “you spend weeks pretending to have gone all the way with dear (Y/n) over there like some casanova and now we find out she doesn’t even know you like her?”

“What’s the matter Cassandra? It isn’t like you to be so chaste.” Bela said with a smirk.

“She must really like this one to be taking her time like this.” Daniela hypothesized with a bloodstained grin.

“Leave you idiots!” Cassandra nearly screamed, “She can probably hear everything you’re spewing! I’ll throw you out in the cold, don’t think I won’t!”

“Geez Cass, no need to be so hostile,” Bela shivered at the thought.

“Yeah, you take your well deserved teasings or we’ll tell mother you are not playing fair.” Daniela added with a pout.

Cassandra pinched the bridge of her nose shutting her eyes tightly before releasing her nose with a growl and snapping her gaze back to her sisters.

“What do you want?” She grumbled.

“Oo! I want the best bits of your next hunt!” Daniela immediately proclaimed.

“I want to watch you flounder about whilst you try to explain your affections to the maiden.” Bela had said after a moment of consideration.

“Oh! That sounds fun. I retract my previous statement. I want what Bela’s having.” Daniela wiggled.

“I hate you both.” Cassandra huffed before stalking back to the bathroom, her giggling sister’s on her heels. (Y/n) quickly shot her gaze down at her swinging feet, suddenly more interested in the patterns of the floor below.

It didn’t take long for Cassandra to grab (Y/n)’s jaw and pull her face upward to meet her golden eyes.

“Listen prey,” Cassandra swallowed and blinked, her eyes darting all around (Y/n)’s face, “I...”

“Come on, Cassandra. It’s not that difficult.” Bela cooed, egging her sister on.

“I could tell her for you. That would be fun.” Daniela suggested, shrinking back just a bit at the look Cassandra shot her over her shoulder.

“Prey, (Y/n), I... Why is this so hard!” She stomped her foot and her nails bit into (Y/n)’s skin a bit too harshly, “I like you a lot and that’s why I’ve been helping you. I want you to like me too. Do you? Be honest.” She asked with a bit of hostility.

Did (Y/n) like Cassandra? Either way, it seemed like a death sentence to say no. Cassandra seemed to notice (Y/n)’s trepidation and quickly added,

“You don’t have to be scared. I won’t hurt you, just tell me the truth. If the answer is not to my liking then I guess I’ll simply have to try harder.” She said as if the words physically hurt her to say.

(Y/n) thought back on all of her interactions with Cassandra in a new light. Actually being caught as she fell, the schoolyard boy with a crush behavior (which honestly didn’t give the her any points but did make sense for how the murderous woman might try to show affection), most promising was how she brought (Y/n) back to health and continued to send money to her struggling family despite not working. Then of course she had saved her from Anca’s knife, wasting no time in cutting her down and checking (Y/n) over with care.

(Y/n) gave Cassandra a small smile that steadily grew a bit wider as golden eyes traced the movement and a hopeful sounding buzz began warbling in the back of her throat. Even the sisters standing behind her buzzed in unison, seemingly feeling their sister’s hope and growing excitement.

“Lady Cassandra, I like you too—Eep!”

Cassandra’s face dove into (Y/n)’s neck as her strong arms wrapped around (Y/n) to hold her still as she nuzzled and buzzed to her heart’s content. Bela and Daniela dissolved into their swarms and were haphazardly flying around them in celebration.

Cassandra gave (Y/n)’s neck a playful nip, much softer than a blowfly, before standing back to her full height and throwing (Y/n) over her shoulder.

“Lady Cassandra?” (Y/n) tried, wiggling a bit in the sudden new hold.

“Shhh, I’ve been waiting for this moment for weeks.” Cassandra said, craning her neck to look up at her sisters still buzzing above them, “Buzz off.” She told them. The clouds of flies let out a bout of disembodied laughter before slipping back under the door, feeling that they had given their sister enough grief for one night.

Once Cassandra was sure they were gone, she tossed (Y/n) on to the bed and climbed in as well, hovering over the stuttering maiden.

“Wuh- wait, Cassandra, I know we established we like each other but—“ the former maid flustered as Cassandra rested her full weight over (Y/n)’s body and moaned pleasantly in her ear.

“Mm, you’re so warm. I could just lay here forever.” She sighed, snaking her hands underneath (Y/n)’s back.

“Thank... you?” (Y/n) awkwardly replied. For as tall and strong as Cassandra was, she was surprisingly light. (Y/n) figured the fact that she was made up of flies had something to do with that.

Cassandra hummed some more, nuzzling her nose in the crook of (Y/n)’s neck and breathing so deeply that (Y/n) couldn’t help but giggle. There was a bit of concern bleeding in the back of her mind, but the smiling lips on her collarbone were quick to distract her.

“I quite like it when you make that sound, it’s sweet. But right now I’m quite tired, and I would like for you to be quiet now. I’m listening to your blood move.”

Well, that was a slightly terrifying admission. (Y/n) must’ve been going mad because she reacted no differently than if she had said she was listening to her heartbeat.

“Goodnight then.” (Y/n) murmured, slowly patting Cassandra’s hair, earning a low continuous buzzing that persisted until they had fallen asleep together.

#re8 oneshots #resident evil oneshots #resident evil village oneshots #cassandra dimitrescu #cassandra dimitrescu x reader

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transenbyconfessions · 2 years

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I am agender and nonbinary. (I tell people I’m nonbinary if I think they won’t know what agender is. It’s not technically wrong, just the umbrella label for my specific identity. Having to explain my gender/lack thereof to someone I’ve just met is so… yikes.) Being nonbinary is something that has taken years for me to accept about myself and even now I’m still not fully there. I came out to my mom and my friends a year or two ago, and have my correct pronouns on my social media. I live with my dad too, and he doesn’t know, and I don’t want to tell him. He’s old-fashioned and stubborn and would refuse to understand or accept that being nonbinary is real. I want to change my name legally before I go to college, since I want to get a phD and it would suck to have to make connections and publish research with my deadname. I’m afraid though. I haven’t even told my mom about my new name. I’ve only been using it with my friend group for a couple months. My legal name sounds so wrong but I’m paralyzed by my own fear of any conflict that I end up putting myself in more pain having to go by my birth name. Sometimes I think my mom still sees me as my birth gender, too. I don’t know how she would feel about me wanting to go by a different name. I’m afraid she would take it personally and lash out. Having experienced things like that in my home life pretty frequently growing up, it’s not a situation I would love to put myself in. Even if she realizes she was wrong eventually and apologizes, it still stings. Hard.

I think my whole issue is that I’m afraid to be myself in the eyes of the world. It’s easier to exist in the shadows, even though its hella painful having people call me by the wrong name and assume I am a gender I am not. I’m ultimately afraid to be myself, because that’s when you put it all out on the line. What happens when, when I’m truly myself, no one wants me? No one accepts me? It’s irrational but it’s something that haunts me in every second I’m not distracting myself. Why am I so afraid? Why can’t I bring myself to take the actions I need to?

Nonbinary is real. Trans men and women experience this pain, and so do nonbinary people. As the trans experience is becoming relatively more normalized in the eyes of the general public, it sucks that people still think nonbinary is just cis people trying to be special. Nonbinary is not just some quirky trender thing. Do conservatives and transmedicalists really think I would choose to have to face this? Gender non-conformity has always been intensely reprimanded by broader society. This goes for nonbinaries, trans men and women who don’t perfectly pass (or don’t want to), and femme men and masc women. I’m so sick of this. Why is it ok for a femme cis girl and a masc cis guy to be themselves, but not anyone else? What harm am I doing being who I am? I don’t deserve happiness because I’m deviating from these random, made-up gender norms that acts as law to people for no reason at all? I’m a worthless degenerate, an attention-seeker, a mentally crippled individual incapable of making their own decisions, why? Because I want a different word to be my name, a different word to be my pronouns, a different word to identify my gender? Fuck off. I’m so angry and frustrated and sad and what am I supposed to do? I’m just one person.

I don’t know how much longer I can do this.

Something has to change. I have to do something. I can’t keep living like this.

#trans #transgender #nonbinary #non binary #non-binary #nb #enby #agender #coming out #transitioning

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mistressemmedi · 3 years

Text

Måneskin: "Different from whom?"

Greetings from Miley Cyrus - phenomenal numbers.

The streams of Zitti e Buoni are growing by the second, and ahead of Muse, on the top of the English charts, twelfth in the Spotify Global Chart. We almost tripled followers after Rotterdam (from 1.4 to 3.3 million, ed). Contagious and universal madness: T-shirts and merchandise sold out in 10 minutes. Like records, tickets for a tour that adds dates and expands on maps. They are even looking for us in festivals where the Rolling Stones have played. - Thomas

After the whole cocaine scandal that was started against us from France, which was later denied by my drug test, in Spain there people have been making murals with my face saying "No drugs". Some tweets made us laugh: «Congratulations, Italy! I have never been so sure that four people have fucked each other ". Miley Cyrus started following us. "You are great". “You are more” . - Damiano

From rags to riches - what a story

It was only 2016, and we were playing in restaurants, on the streets, in via del Corso (famous street in Rome). Damiano without a microphone, Thomas's guitar with broken strings, Ethan drummed on a cajón. At the occupations of the high schools in Rome (Kennedy, Virgilio, Mamiani) we had our first gigs and half an hour of fame, between those who criticized us and those who said "these guys are so cool". One of the rare times in which they offered to pay us to play - 50 euros each - we offered that money to those after us, in exchange for the chance to play during their time slow, as we knew there would have been a bigger crowd. We already understood then how it worked. That visibility was worth more than the money. We still think so ». - Victoria

The intimacy of rock - Choice of a genre

Music allows is this miracle which allows one to talk about very personal and private topics, even difficult and delicate ones. They are and remain deeply yours, but at the same time they become a confession that reaches a wider audience, and in this passage which is like a delivery, they also find their place in you, their elaboration. They are overcome, they are accepted. One moment it feels aggressive, one moment later a (soft) ballad. It's very cathartic. - Damiano

Against panic - The stage as therapy

I have suffered a lot from anxiety and panic attacks, it is a problem that I have worked on thanks to a course of psychotherapy, to my friends and family. Playing has helped me not to let myself be paralyzed by my fears, not to be limited in my private and professional life. I have learned to accept, to live with this side of me. I don't hide it. I no longer feel ashamed. - Victoria

This belief that only crazy people go to the psychologist is widespread ignorance. Nobody is born learned. And it is often difficult to understand why we are here, let alone the derivation and direction of our desires. It is a long and legitimate journey towards one's clarity. - Damiano

Essere fuori di testa – Ma diversi da loro (Be out of your mind - But different from them)

Already feeling a strong passion for something that is not a 'regular' profession but an artistic language, it puts you on a level where you're an anomaly, and while you're neither superior nor inferior to others, it places you in the condition of what breaks the mold but you're also being at a loss, leaving it to you to be bold and to take risks, hoping that they will pay off and land you somewhere. "What good is it if you don't stand out on your own?". You want to give it an aesthetic to your artistic dream, but to others it boils down to " You dress differently! You must be gay! ”, I'm 22 now and it makes me laugh, but at 17 it had an effect on me too. - Damiano

The beauty of being unique - Of believing in that and defending it

After all, we are all different not because we want to be alternative but because really no one is the same. Justice is being judged on what you do and not what you are. Justice is equality, respect, beauty. - Ethan

Fluid sexuality - Pride is freedom

We appreciate heels on men, we kiss each other, we have an open, extended mind, and we are proud of it. The horizons become vast, beyond the oppression of conservative families. With information on the web, knowledge is enriched and with it the possibility that minorities will be fewer and fewer, because majorities will be fewer and fewer. This will lower the volume to insults and bullying. If social networks can reach a village of 50 souls to reveal to someone, who is afraid of the darkness, that someone has felt that same fear.. There is no longer the need to give it a name, to define that "something" to fear, to brand it with labels that only limit you. Definitions have always had this effect on me. Gender should not even be considered in a person's judgment. Let alone orientation ". - Victoria

Sexism - A culture to be dismantled

Emma (Italian singer) dropped the bomb:" When I went to Eurovision, they insulted me over a pair of shorts. Damiano - half naked and in heels - was never criticized ". The judgment against women is constant, ferocious, and demeaning (if I have a lot of sex I'm cool but Vic a whore, where I show myself strong I'm a leader she is domineering and pain in the ass, who is successful because only because of her looks [and not the hard work she puts in]). As a male I am privileged, the harassment I suffer is not comparable to that experienced by a woman, the comments on my aesthetics are focused only on my aesthetics and do not insinuate anything about my professionalism and my competence, while women are victims of this kind of thinking in a systemic way. But I did find myself in a situation, out of nowhere, with someone who, pulling close to her for a selfie, started licking my face ... "What do you want, did you ask me?" Consent exists, and it is a must ». - Damiano

To grow as a person - The only rule to follow

For me, to conform is the total opposite of educating oneself, and the asphyxiation of one's expression (of freedom). Fortunately, I did not suffer heavy bullying, to the point where I felt I needed to change to adapt to how others saw me. But the matrix of who I am and the aggression that marks me is the same. If I'm a kid who dances and loves dolls, then allow me the freedom to do so. I used to be a kid who wanted long hair and played with Barbies. My friends, as a teenager, looked my long hair and teased me: "You have to find yourself a girl with a short hair to make up for it". My grandparents took the dolls away from me and said: “Stop it, they're not for you” ». - Ethan

“I was six and I already could not tolerate the distinctions between masculine and feminine. I've always had strong ideas about how I wanted to be. I refused things typically defined as feminine as a child, and they made fun of me for skating, for playing soccer, for not wearing skirts, for giving myself the chance to be as I wanted to be. I suffered a little, as I was bullied, but I had courage to stay true to myself, and today thanks to that courage I know that I could have been much more hurt, or I would have risked leaving the most important decision to others: the one about being just me". - Victoria

Love - music and girlfriends

I've been married to music for the past 20 years. I cannot wait to celebrate our golden wedding anniversary. - Ethan

Everyone goes through their own experiences, sometimes it's good, sometimes it's bad, but it's never other people's business." - Thomas

When, for the first time, I developed feelings and attraction for a girl it was a bit disorienting because I had never had the courage to go beyond the limitations I had imposed on myself. For society, being heterosexual is the norm and therefore often one automatically pegs himself in that way, giving up the freedom to experience many different shades and facets of love. Once I got over the initial insecurity of having to question one's own certainties, I lived my sexuality in a very natural and free way, as it should be for everyone. - Victoria

I had paparazzi under my house morning and night. So, after four years of relationship, I finally revealed her name. I still have the paparazzi under my house morning and night, but at least I don't have to hide anything anymore. - Damiano

The value of the group - Protecting each other

But the real relationship, the real family, is between us. Our band. We believed in it from the first day, even before calling ourselves Måneskin (moonlight in Danish), even before Ethan drew a giant moon, on the poster for our first concert. We share everything, even the pain of the tragedy of Seid Visin, who committed suicide at 20 because he was a victim of racism. Being a group is what we should all do together: stay united and not retreat in the slightest in the face of abuses generated by a distorted vision of someone "being different|. - Thomas

Non ho l’età – like Gigliola (It references Gigliola Cinquetti who won both Sanremo and Eurovision with her song "Non ho l’età" which translates to Not old enough)

Before us, the only one to win Sanremo and Eurovision together was Gigliola Cinquetti (in 1964). Is there is something for which I feel I am not yet old enough for? No, honestly no. Maybe for kids. I'll be honest, I'm not enough to be a dad. - Damiano

Reached the sky - What fears still remain

We are more than in the dream, we have conquered the dream. To fly high this high, there is the risk is to fall and get hurt, but we will try not to end up like Icarus, who burns his wings with the sun. Everything is in our hands. And this - somewhat presumptuously - reassures us rather than frighten us ". - Damiano

(ORIGINAL INTERVIEW IN ITALIAN)

[Please note that I have changed some words or structure sentence, trying to make it so that the interview made more sense lol - I skipped the first two paragraphs, which was basically the interviewer gushing over how pretty the band is lmao (relatable).

Any mistakes in the translation are sorely mine, nothing was proofread, so apologies in advance]

#maneskin #ethan torchio #damiano david #victoria de angelis #thomas raggi #i'm off to drink some wine lol

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ateezthings · 3 years

Text

ATEEZ Reaction: S/O flinching during an argument

Anon said: “Hi um could I please request for an ateez reaction to their s/o flinching in an argument? Thank you so much if you do this!! Much love ❤️❤️”

Triggerwarning: This scenario could be triggering for some people as it deals with past (physical) abuse, no abuse will happen though. Take care of yourself and please seek help if you need it.

Genderneutral

Heavy angst (Writing angst is always emotionally draining but I love it so much, it means a lot more to me)

Jongho

You knew Jongho was strong. This didn’t help when he raised his right hand during the argument. You instinctively crouched down and covered your face with your arms. When you couldn’t feel any sort of punch, you dared to look at him again. The expression on his face scared the living hell out of you: shock, hurt, pain, disappointment.

“You thought I’d hi-hit you?”

At that point you realized you didn’t think, your body just reacted. Things, that happened in the past were screwing up your present, you had to start letting go.

“I do-don’t know, Jongho, I didn’t… I-You raised your arm and I thought-”

That’s when you broke down: knees giving out and tears starting to spill from your eyes, announcing that you were starting the self-healing process.

Sunken on to the floor, he slowly approached you, gently wrapping his arms around your body. For a while nothing could be heard except your muffled cries.

Holding you tight while you fell apart, he reassured you: “I would never lay a finger on you like that… please believe me, you are so precious”

After a moment of silence, he continued: “Do you wanna talk about what made you think that I could do that to you?”

With almost no energy left, you slowly shook your head no.

“It’s okay, I love you and I will always be here”

Wooyoung

He has a good heart. But he is also very passionate and that sometimes scares you when he is in one of his moods, rants like there’s no tommorow and he doesn’t hear you anymore. You were trying to get a word in but Wooyoung was speaking louder and louder about how it wasn’t his responsibility to get groceries after being at the studio for 13 hours a day, even though you asked him to in the morning.

He got so worked up he puffed his chest and fitfully lifted his arms. That was enough to make you flinch. It was a short action but of course Wooyoung noticed. Immediately becoming silent, it looked like someone took the life out of him.

“Did you think… I was going to…?”

Scared of your own reaction, you were paralyzed for a moment. Wooyoung rushed to take you into his arms, his comforting arms.

“I’m sorry Woo”, your voice sounded exhausted, like you’ve never been before.

“You don’t have to apologize for it… I’m sorry for getting so worked up, I never meant to scare you… you know I will always protect you.”

Mingi

You didn’t even remember what the argument was about. Mingi came home a little aggravated and you were tired from work so that’s when things went south.

“How many times do I have to tell you? I have the most important performance of my career that day, I can’t come visit your parents!”

“Mingi you never make time for me! It’s like your job is more important to you than me!”

Visibly frustrated, he quickly lifted up his arms in defeat. That’s when the flashbacks started in your head and you retracted back into your shell, shoulders and arms raised to protect your head.

“Y/N… I… Did you really think…” He didn’t need to finish.

The look on his face showed emotions that were beyond hurt, pain and disappointment.

You struggled to keep your composure: “I’m sorry Mingi, I don’t-”

He hurried over to you to take you into his arms.

“It’s okay… I could never do something like that to you.”

San

He forgot your anniversary. That was it. You knew that it wasn’t that big of a deal, but little things like that were important to you. They mattered more than any big gesture or present.

You simply expected him to write you a sweet message during the day or something like that. But he forgot. Even when you went to see him in the evening he didn’t seem to remember. So, you wanted to confront him about how much that hurt you.

You didn’t expect it to develop into a huge argument though.

“San, what I expected was just a little reminder that our relationship is as important to you as it is to me, I just wanted my boyfriend to send me a text… but you couldn’t even do that!”

That was it for him. You doubted his ability to show love?

He took a step closer to you but after seeing the rage in his eyes that was enough for you to step back in fear.

That broke him. And you could see that.

“No no no, that’s not- you’re not scared of me, right Y/N?”

It all happened so fast you couldn’t think straight. When you didn’t respond he broke down in tears.

So it was you, who took him into your arms, even though you doubted his good nature for a split second.

You tried to keep him together with your hug while struggling yourself.

San would never ever hurt you. His reaction was enough to make it clear to you how much the thought of you being scared of him hurt him.

Holding each other close you both let out cleansing tears and haunting memories that used to be tucked away in a back drawer of your mind, ready to be dealt with now.

Yeosang

He’s not the person to get angry audibly. Like twice a year you guys a conflict but it was never loud.

But this one was different; it was a much deeper conflict of values. He prioritized work. You knew he loved his work but did he have to ignore your needs while doing what he loved? You believed he could also pay a little attention to you, that’s what being in a relationship meant, right?

It was scary when he started to raise his voice but it was even more terrifying when he started to gesture wildly, trying to explain why you were wrong.

Naturally, you went into protection mode.

He stopped right in his tracks when he saw the terrified expression on your face.

“Y/N.. I wasn’t going to… I didn’t mean to scare you. I was just…”

You didn’t know how to explain yourself either. But you didn’t need to, Yeosang understood what was going on.

He carefully approached you and offered you a big hug. You let yourself collapse into him and allowed the tears to spill from your eyes, letting out all the pent-up stress and fear.

“I’m sorry my love. I will never forgive myself for scaring you…”

Yunho

You were on edge the whole day, anxiety acting up again. Sometimes you could deal with it, but not today.

In the evening it got even worse when Yunho didn’t seem to notice you were more nervous and jittery than usual. He’s had a hard day too.

So, you decided to put aside your own troubles to ask him how his day went.

His eyebrows furrowed: “I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“I just wanted to ask you how your day went, Yunho, and why you’re so pissed, I’m sorry”

He groaned out of frustration and turned his body away from you - a little too fast. That’s when something snapped in you and you got flooded with horrible memories of past situations that scarred you physically but more importantly mentally: You couldn’t help but protect your head from punches that might land on it.

“No, baby, don’t… I.. I didn’t mean to… I wasn’t going to…”

The look in his eyes was pure defeat.

“I’m so sorry” his voice was merely a whisper.

You were shocked when you realized you had thought he could harm you physically. He was your safe place.

So you let yourself fall into his arms, hoping you could comfort him as much as he comforted you.

Hongjoong

In an argument Hongjoong could raise his voice, you knew that. What you didn’t know was that even small rapid movements of his could trigger a memory in your mind that you hoped to suppress forever.

He only ran his hand through his hair but your reflex was to immediately cover your face.

“What was that?... Are y-you scared of me…?”

Tears started to spill from your eyes as you realized that you had hurt him: ”I’m sorry Hongjoong, I don’t know what’s happening”

Taking you into his arms, he tried to calm you down with his touch: ”Shh, it’s okay, I’m here, Y/N”

After your tears dried up a little, you moved to cuddle on the couch.

“Do you wanna tell me what happened?”

It was painful but you decided to tell him everything you could remember.

He was sure to hold you especially tight during the parts where you didn’t think you could keep on talking.

Seonghwa

You guys fought about his job and how he was never home. He reasoned he loved what he did and that was supposed to make it okay. It didn’t. So, your dispute was going nowhere.

Out of frustration he turned away from you.

The action was so quick, but it scared a part of you, that you didn’t know existed: the part that was abused.

You couldn’t help but flinch. Of course, Seonghwa noticed.

“Why’d you…? Y/N are you sc-scared of me?” His eyes wide open, the corners of his mouth visibly drooping.

You sank down onto the floor, unable to hold it in any longer. It was useless to cover your eyes, tears already spilling like a waterfall.

Seonghwa was quick to hug you.

You were falling apart in his arms, but it felt good to let it all out. Neither you nor Seonghwa needed to speak.

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