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margarethelstone-2 · 3 years

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if I loved you less (i might talk about it more)

requested by one and only @nerdypanda3126. thanks so much!

Read on AO3!

"Taichi... You still like me, don't you?"

The young man in question raised his eyes from the book he'd been trying to read for the past quarter, and fixed them on Chihaya, confused. It wasn't just the question that surprised him, even though its content sure would have been enough to puzzle a better prepared soul.

The fact that Chihaya had barely spoken at all for most of their time together today was the main reason why he felt startled by her words now.

She really had been quiet for most of the day, even though they were spending it at his place, determined, as she herself had claimed, not to get in the way of his studies. Taichi had tried to make her realise that it wasn't what he wanted at all, that the very reason he'd invited her over was to get a break from all the reading and just relax a little. He'd explained over and over again that he needed her to be a distraction; tried – unsuccessfully – to get it into her head that she was actually doing him a favour. He knew how much of a workaholic he could be and so he specifically planned the visit as a means to enforce the necessary break he might not have taken otherwise.

He had told her all of that. And yet, she'd remained quiet.

All the way until now, that is.

And just what on earth was she going on about?

"What's with that question? You know the answer to that," he replied casually, almost dismissively, before going back to the textbook in his hand. He really had no idea what had gotten into her all of the sudden, but then again, he didn't care to delve on the subject. He knew she'd tell him anyway.

"I was just wondering," she answered, a trace of hurt ringing in her voice; Taichi needed to hold back the smile that sprang on his lips at the sight of her pout. "Is it so bad if I do?"

Taichi hummed in thought.

"Is that why you've been so quiet all day?" he asked right after. "You've been just busy considering my possible affection for you?"

"Stop with the mockery. I'm thinking of it seriously."

"Oh? And what conclusions did you come to?"

"I wouldn't have asked if I'd come to any."

He had no choice but to close the book and put it away after a statement he'd just heard. Not that he minded. Throwing it on the floor rather carelessly, he sat up straight in his corner of the couch and, resting his chin on his palm, he fixed his gaze on the girl seated by his desk on the other side of the room.

She really was being impossible today.

Well, he supposed that wasn't anything new. He'd known Chihaya long and well enough to not be fazed by the swings in her mood or the inane schemes she so often came up with. He had learnt to expect the unexpected, every day, every hour of his otherwise boring life, because that was obviously the only way to keep up with her. The one thing he had to keep doing if he still wanted to be a part of her life.

Because that was how Ayase Chihaya was.

Chihaya. His best friend. His fiercest karuta rival. The girl he'd been in love with since fourth grade of primary school and the girl who'd rejected him straightforwardly at the very beginning of their third year in Mizusawa High. The girl whom he'd thought he could never win over, on whom he'd given up again and again, fooling himself he could move on and blight the love he'd had for her since he'd been a ten year old squirt.

He sighed and shook his head, remembering her question from a moment before.

She knew damn well he was still head over heels for her.

She was his girlfriend, for sanity's sake.

"I can't believe you actually have asked, you know," he picked up with the same fake weariness he'd shown before, if only to cover his growing amusement. Seeing her very real anxiety made him assume a more solemn expression, as he asked, "Seriously, what brought this on? Are you mad about something?"

"I'm not mad," she disagreed instantly, and with good emphasis.

"Are you unhappy then? Did I do something to make you feel like that?"

Again, she denied. Now she just looked sad. "That's not it."

Wrong. She was flustered.

"Then what is it?" Taichi asked, as gently and warmly as he could. Not for the first time, he felt grateful for all the hard training his patience had received. It was obvious that Chihaya needed that from him now. "It's not like I could get over you like this, you of all people should be aware of that. You're the most important person in my life. The best companion I could think of. You know I get lonely and grumpy when I can't see you, and you know I still get absurdly jealous, even though I hate being so. And so I can't help but think there's something else I'm not doing right."

Taichi stopped there, waiting for her to, if not answer his question, then to contradict him in one way or another, at least. After all, he really was at a loss.

He thought he'd been doing a fairly good job as a boyfriend, when all was said and done. He'd already shared Chihaya's most important interest and it wasn't difficult to at least understand the new ones she'd found. He made sure to be there for her when she needed him, and tried his best to give her space when she needed that more. True, he'd had some trouble coming for help on his part, but even that was a thing of a past rather than present – certainly not something that could shock Chihaya into thinking like this.

He would think that the all-day-long date he'd come up with and seen through in celebration of their first anniversary as a couple last week was a good show of how much he still cared.

He wasn't perfect. Neither was she. But never in his life would he have thought that he'd failed to get his feelings across.

"Chihaya," he prompted once more, his voice audibly quieter. "Please tell me what it is. I can't fix it if I don't know what's broken."

She looked up from the floor she'd been glaring at for a while and met his gaze, a shadow of unease still clouding her big brown eyes. She opened her mouth to answer; she closed it instantly and looked away again, abashed. There was a hint of pink on her cheeks, and it only grew darker as the time passed, though whether it was because of embarrassment or something more alarming, Taichi couldn't tell yet.

"Chihaya–"

"It's because you never say it."

He supposed his eyes opened wider than ever, what's with the utter astonishment he felt growing inside him immediately. For a few moments, he could do nothing but stare, the craziness of the situation overwhelming enough to successfully prevent him from forming a sensible thought, and much less coming up with any kind of solution. One look at Chihaya was enough to sober him up, however.

She was distressed. She was insecure.

No matter how stupid he thought the reason to be, he could hardly allow the situation to last.

With a groan that was bound to startle her, he bent over and buried his face in his hands.

Only one thing he could do now.

"Come here," he said, his face still hidden behind one hand as he tore the other one away and beckoned her towards him. "No excuses. You'll talk later. Now just come here, please."

She did, albeit tentatively, as if afraid of the reaction he might show her. With his patience starting to run thin at last, Taichi didn't wait for her to cover the whole distance, instead reaching out and grabbing her by the wrist, only to pull her down on the couch right next to him.

And then he pulled her even closer, locking her in a bone-crushing hug.

"I'm gonna do something to you," he mumbled into her hair, his voice a mixture of laughter and complaint. "You cruel, cruel, woman. Have you no heart? Here I am, mind reeling as I try to figure out what the hell I did wrong again and you say it's because I don't say I like you enough. As if you didn't already know you've got a firmer hold of my heart than I ever did. Tell me, am I really this bad at showing you that I care that you doubt it?"

It was Chihaya's turn to growl at him, though it surely – and fortunately – didn't stop her from burying her face even deeper into his chest and digging her fingers into the shirt on his back. Again, Taichi laughed at the display, but didn't loosen his grip one bit.

That silly, unbelievable, most beloved girl.

"This and that are different things," she muttered finally in response against his buttons, her stubborn indignation probably being the only reason why he could discern the words at all. "There are different kinds of love languages. We even talked about it, you know."

"Yes. And as far as I remember, we've already established that neither of us cared for this one. So your argument doesn't work."

Well, this was a lie, or at least, it wasn’t fully true. After all, he could never get tired of hearing her say those words, to him and him only. But he didn't need it that much, not when he already knew of so many other ways in which Chihaya expressed her love towards him. He'd always assumed it was the same for her, too.

Funnily enough, he still didn't think he was mistaken.

"I've had feelings for you for the past fourteen years, you dummy, I wouldn't change my mind just because you decided to return them," he threw in only half-jokingly, as if to make sure he got his point across before moving onto the next part. "So? Care to tell me what's the source of it all?"

He felt her tense against him for a split second, only to relax in the next moment with a long, weary sigh. He waited for her to make herself comfortable in his arms, shifting ever so slightly to make it easier for them both. And then he heard her speak.

"I met up with Kana-chan the other day," she admitted weakly. "Her and Desktomu. And I guess... They're always so sweet with one another, now more than ever. I suppose... It made me feel a little jealous. But most of all, it just made me think."

"And you decided that I'd fallen out of love with you, because I don't talk like Komano does?"

"I didn't decide anything, I told you already. I just wondered if maybe I was doing something wrong to deserve that treatment. Sorry for being so terribly scared of losing you again because of my own foolishness."

Words caught in his throat as Taichi tried to protest against this new development. That last addition Chihaya had made – and more importantly, the wounded, truly uncertain voice with which she'd spoken – would have been enough to melt his heart even if he had actually been angry with her. Right now, he had to hold back from grabbing her by the chin and kissing her senseless until all the idiotic ideas evaporated from her overworked mind.

The things she did to him without as much as trying.

You evil little imp.

"They're newly-weds. You can't use them for reference," he managed to stutter out at least, conveniently ignoring the hoarseness of his own voice and the emotion that hovered behind it. "Not to mention, those two are the opposite of us when it comes to talking about feelings openly. There's a reason they got together six years before we did. Just because something works for them doesn't mean it's the best course for us to take as well."

He smiled again and planted a kiss at the top of her hair, before adding, "I still can't believe you really doubted me, though."

She huffed and pulled away, although she still didn't move from her place on the couch. They were still close; close enough for Taichi to see the light reflecting in her eyes and the blush that hadn't left her cheeks, and to reach out and comb her tangled hair with his fingers. Another gesture so full of love, even though it was but a fraction of all that she made him feel.

"Well, since I never understood what had made you fall in love with me in the first place, it's only natural that I'd have this kind of doubts."

He chuckled and she smiled on her part, her obstinacy giving it to the desire to just be with him. It was another thing Taichi was able to read in her eyes – and, knowing the feeling well enough from his own experience, he had no trouble deciphering it.

Delayed, the first part of her sentence entered his brain.

What made me fall for you, I wonder?

He didn't know. It had been so long since he’d realised his feelings after all, and longer still since those feelings had been born. Even all those years earlier, he probably wouldn’t have been able to point out the reasons clearly, never mind finding the one spark that had started it – trying to do so now seemed downright impossible.

There were so many reasons, after all.

Maybe it was because she had never considered herself a possible love interest for anyone, first when she was too engrossed in karuta and later, when she thought she didn't deserve to be one. Maybe it was her hot-headedness and her drive, and how different she'd always been from him, and yet never failed to tell him how much she'd admired and envied those qualities of his that she lacked.

Maybe it was the fact that she'd always been with him, so close and so dear and yet so impossible to grasp.

Maybe it was because she'd loved him long before either of them dared believe that was the case.

Maybe...

"Maybe," he said out loud, though in fact not loud at all, his lips moving against her forehead as he leaned in to put a kiss there, too. "Maybe, if I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more."

Edging away, Taichi saw tears gathering in her eyes. He wiped them away with his thumb, his hand cupping the side of her jaw fittingly.

And then he kissed her properly.

Just like he had wanted to ever since he'd first seen her that day.

#one-shot request #chihayafuru #taichihaya #mashima taichi #ayase chihaya #margaretwrites

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dervampireprince · 2 years

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Aw, don't cry love, or well if you need to cry I'm here for you, gonna squish you into the biggest warmest hug you've ever gotten 💕

You look so handsome, I promise, such a pretty face and lovely eyes you have. All your looks are stunning, and Gods I love LOVE how your masc Jinx cosplay is looking so far.

I know insecurities are terrible, and more so dysphoria, but hey, you look like a fantastic handsome boy to me with an astonishing voice to boot, so you should have nothing to worry about and be as proud of yourself as I am 💙

...it's not even just dysphoria i kinda had a rush of dysmorphia earlier today preparing to make these posts and looking at my instagram and hating all the photos of me on there and i wasn't sure i was going to go through with this at all until i decided to just use a tiktok instead

oh you saw jinx! i worked so hard making fishbones and now i'm all sad i can't bring it with me to comic cons because trains said no it's too big. i quickly made the hand gun last night so i'm going to take that instead ohoh but oh i'm glad because yes even though i'm cosplaying jinx i'm cosplaying jinx as a trans man, 'genderbending' if you want to use that term, switching jinx's gender to be a trans man, covering myself in trans and pronoun pins, ditching the cosplay i bought and just wearing my own clothes and the jinx wig

but oh.... 😭 today's been overwhelming and emotionally exhausting and hugs would be very nice right now, i have my ears on and a care bear in my lap and a good snuggle would be real nice and i'll probably fall asleep soon but i want to wake up early in the morning because i want to make bread in the morning (as in literally make bread) because i realised oops i haven't done it since october and my flour is out of date in 2 weeks and i won't have time any other day than tomorrow. busy long weekend ahead travelling and then when i get back i have some sewing to do and hopefully between that i can still be chatting on here

#:0 this means i can share plushie photos with everyone now #idk that anyone cares about that #the vampire answers #blue heart anon

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gifted-burnout-archive · 4 years

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Jim’s Best Friend

Part Twenty Three: Why Did We Agree To This Dinner Party?

Word Count: 5.2K+

Author’s Note: honestly, I was just writing and the ending of this caught me by surprise but I had to keep it in for y’all so I just hope you love it like I do.

Warning: discussion of Michael’s vasectomies

For previous chapters click here.

April, 2008.

The entire office had been asked to work late. You, being the receptionist, were getting a large brunt of the work because, somehow, everyone needed things copied now that filing was taking place. The entire office seemed to forget to file all year round, until Michael asks them to work late, check inventory, all that stuff. Then you suddenly have more work than you can handle. You wondered, as you did another trip around the office with people's copies, how Pam had done it all.

"This is ridiculous." Stanley said as you passed him, you then having to work your way past a hovering Michael.

"Nobody likes to work late, least of all me." Michael reminded the team, turning on his heel and heading over to Jim's desk as you returned to reception, beginning to box up some new documents. At this point you didn't know what was on anything anymore, you just wanted to be done as quickly as possible. "Do you have plans tonight?" Michael asked Jim, who pulled a tight-lipped smile, shaking his head.

"No, I don't. Remember when you told us not to make plans because we were working?" Jim said quickly, and you looked up at Michael, taking a second to eavesdrop: sure you wanted out of the building, but you didn't mind listening to whatever Michael had to gossip about.

"Yes, I remember." Michael nodded, stopping for a moment before letting out a groan. "This is B.S, this is B.S. Why are we here?" He exclaimed to the office, garnering everyone's attention. "I am gonna call corporate! Enough is enough. I'm, God, I'm so mad!" Michael yelled, heading into his office, and Jim gave you a look of confusion. Who knew what Michael was up to? "This is Michael Scott, Scranton. Well, we don't want to work. No, we don't! It's not fair to these people. These people are my friends and I care about them!!" Michael yelled the last sentence, and you could see Jim closing his eyes and shaking his head, and it made you smile a little wider. "We're not gonna do it!" Michael ended his call and walked back out into the main area, and you couldn't help the smirk on your lips.

"So?" You asked, and Michael stood in a power stance in the centre of the sale area.

"Everybody, I just got off the horn with corporate and basically, I told them where they could stick their little overtime assignment." Michael announced. "Go enjoy your Friday!"

"Thank you Michael." Dwight said loudly, starting a clap a few of your co-workers joined in on.

"Oh, well, I think we dodged a bullet there." Michael commented to Jim.

"I think you did."

"I think we should celebrate. How about you, Y/N, mi casa. A little dinner, dancing, drinks?" Michael proposed, and before Jim could refuse, he spoke again. "You said you didn't have plans." The shock on Jim's face was priceless, though it could be matched by the shock on your own. "That's what you said."

In truth, you had been asked to dinner by Michael at least nine times now. And you and Jim had managed to always deflect: someone was sick, or dead, or tax season, or whatever. And here you both were, sharing a look of disbelief at your boss' plan.

"I've got to admit, he got me." Jim confessed to the cameras. "Because I'm starting to suspect that there was no assignment from corporate."

"Do you think Michael realises that Jan hates me?" You asked Jim from the confines of his bathroom, talking loud enough that he could hear you from the hallway. You fixed your hair one last time, running your hands down your dress. It was sweet, the sort of thing you might wear out with Jim's parents for dinner, a jewel neckline short-sleeved dress that cinched in at the waist and went down to your knees. It was black with little red flowers printed on, and you had paired it with some low black heels and sheer tights. You wanted tonight to go well, even if Jan disliked you to an unfathomable degree.

"I think Michael has given up thinking. We need to go though, so..." Jim called from the hall, and you let out a laugh, blotting your lips once more before exiting the bathroom, Jim pushing himself off the wall as you did. A smile appeared on his face, and you did a quick twirl. "You look gorgeous, I love the dress." He complimented you, and you bit your lip.

"It has pockets." you responded, slipping your hands into the side of your dress, showing off the hidden design feature by wiggling your fingers.

"God, you're perfect." Jim breathed out gently, and you felt the blush on your cheeks. Even after months together, it still felt a little surreal to have him look at you like that: like you were the only girl in the world.

"Want me to drive?" You offered, taking the keys from his hands and making the way to his front door with a bounce in your step.

"Which one of us will be needing alcohol to survive tonight?" Jim asked, following you out to the car, locking the front door behind him. He had grabbed the bottle of wine you'd picked out earlier, a gift for your hosts.

"If it gets bad, we'll get a taxi back." You offered, and Jim nodded, getting in the passenger side of his car. The drive over to Michael's place was one you had made plenty of times before, and you were knocking on the front door of the condo within fifteen minutes of leaving Jim's. The door flew open, you coming face to face with Jan and offering a smile. It took a second for her body to register, her frown at your appearance switching to a practised grin.

"Hi, how are you?" Jan greeted, Jim gesturing for you to step in first.

"Hello! Come on in, amigos." Michael came into view as the door fully opened. "Good to see you." Michael smiled, giving you a hug as Jan wrapped herself around Jim.

"Thank you for having us." You responded, quickly pulling back and unbuttoning your coat.

"I'm so glad we finally got to do this with you guys." Jan said. "You wanna take their coats, babe?" Jan turned to Michael, who took a second before nodding.

"Yes, I would. Okay." Michael quickly helped you with your coat as Jim took his own off, Michael taking both and then promptly hanging them behind you. "So, what have you been doing?"

"Since... Since we saw you an hour ago?" Jim laughed through his words, his hand finding it's place on the small of your back. "We've been getting ready, then driving over here."

"Well, we've been doing pretty much the same thing... Except driving." Michael was never great at small talk, so you turned your attention to Jan, holding out the bottle of wine.

"We got you guys this." You said with a smile, doing your very best to avoid looking at Jan's chest, which was on full display thanks to her red v-neck top.

"Oh, well, Y/N. Thank you. This will be great to cook with." Jan said quickly, walking past you to place it in the kitchen. You and Jim shared a glance, neither of you saying a thing, but you knew if Jan continued with the passive-agressive behaviour, it would end up being a long night.

"So, come on in, make yourselves comfortable. This is our casa." Michael insisted, moving in between you and jim and taking you down the two steps from his entryway to the lounge.

"You guys have really decorated since the last time I was here, it's lovely." You complimented, and Jan looked between you and Michael.

"Huh, well then... what do you guys think? Should we do the tour first? Appetisers first?" Jan asked, looking more to Jim than you for an answer.

"Tour. Let's do the tour first." Jim decided, a smile on his face and his hands stuffed in his pockets. He sent a wink your way, and you smiled back.

"Okay! You have a preference babe? Upstairs first?" Jan asked Michael.

"Totally your call, babe."

"Alright, well, let's go then." Jan moved past you all, leading you all upstairs. Michael ahead of you, Jim behind, you turned to mouth the word 'babe' to your boyfriend, who did his best to stifle a laugh, urging you to follow the older couple up the stairs.

"So this, is my office." Jan opened the first door, showing a room that looked so remarakbly clean it was unsettling.

"Yep, never been used." Michael remarked.

"Not super exciting." Jan said with a terrifying grin on her face. She opened a door to the left of the office, walking straight in and gesturing for you and Jim to follow. "And this is my workspace."

"This is it. Check that out, you smell it?" Michael asked. You most certainly did. The scent of the candles surrounding you was borderline overwhelming. "As you can smell, there's a lot of odors going on in here."

"It's nice that you have an office separate from in here." you commented, and Jan nodded, taking a deep inhale.

"Yeah, it is. I just, I cannot create in the same space as I conduct business." Jan explained, and from the corner of your eye you could see Jim edging towards the doorway for some clean air. She held a candle up to your nose. "Smell that. It's bonfire." Jan urged, and you took a sniff. Michael was in the background doing his best Sean Connery impression, and Jan sighed. "You know, when I get frustrated, or irritated, or angry, I come up here and I just smell my candles!" Jan exclaimed. "And poof, it all goes away."

"Just like that?" Jim asked, having taken in enough fresh air that he could talk without inhaling.

"Just like that." Jan nodded, walking past the pair of you and towards another room. The look in Jim's eye was one of thanking God, he even took the time to shut the door over as Michael exited. "And this," Jan called from the other end of the hall, once again beckoning you to follow.

"We'll be here another ninety minutes..." You whispered to Jim in reassurance, taking his hand as you followed Michael. He squeezed back.

"This is the master bedroom, and these walls, they used to be, like, white. Like and asylum. So I wanted it to be softer, so I had it painted in eggshell white." Jan explained.

"Guess what? White and eggshell white are exactly the same colour." Michael said, following the comment with forced laughter. A few weeks ago, Oscar had told you about Michael's money problems, and Michael had come into the main office to declare bankruptcy, quite literally. By the look of the house, you had a feeling it wasn't Michael spending all of his earnings.

"Babe... I thought you said you were going to tidy things up." Jan said, noticing and quickly putting away a camcorder that sat on a tripod. "Shame on you." she slapped Michael playfully on the backside, and you shared yet another look with Jim.

"How about we go see the lounge?" You suggested, and Jim nodded quickly. "Did I see a plasma tv?" You asked, seeing Michael's eyes lit up.

"Yes, yes follow me." Michael led you all back down stairs, almost breaking into a jog as he stopped by a comically small tv mounted on the wall. "I finally broke down and bought myself a plasma tv. I actually hung this on the wall myself. Oh, I want to show you something. A lot of people in the room? You need more space? Voila, right into the wall." Michael pushed the slightly extended tv back into the wall, earning a sound of awe from Jim and a nod from you. "Sometimes, I will just stand here and watch television for hours. I love it. I love this tv." Michael looked at that tv with so much love it might as well have been his child. "Oh! I built this table too." He gestured to 4 planks of wood with a square block holding them together that percariously balanced a candle.

"What is that, chestnut?" Jim asked, playing along, his hand moving back to the small of your back and rubbing circles with his thumb.

"No, I believe it's pine or nordic cherry." Michael corrected, Jan muttering pine after him.

"Michael, I'm just terrible at all this stuff, so that's really cool." Jim falsely confessed, nodding in what Michael could only view as admiration. Despite knowing Jim's true capabilities with any sort of hard labour, you played along.

"Yeah, I asked him to set up my new computer system for me, and I couldn't get sound for a week or so. I couldn't figure out what he had done." You smiled up at him, biting your lip as he grinned back. Jan let out a little laugh that showed way too much teeth.

"If you ever need any help, I'm just a phone call away." Michael offered, and you nodded as Jan's smile disappeared.

"I bet you are." She muttered, but before anyone could question it the doorbell rang. Jan ran up to welcome the next set of guests, Michael gesturing for you both to sit as he followed. Another round of pleasantries followed at the door, Andy and Angela being welcomed in, the former armed with a bouquet of flowers so colourful your eyes hurt.

"Tuna! What, are we having Tuna for dinner?" Andy asked, continuing to use Jim's nickname outside of work. "Bet your sick of tuna, right? Have tuna every night?" Andy asked you with a nudge, and Jim let out a sigh.

"All right..." Jim stopped Andy's rambling, quickly changing the subject as Angela walked back into the lounge with Michael and Jan. "The Dundies! Nice to see them all there. I'm surprised they're not all out on the coffee table for everyone to see."

"Well, it was between the neon beer sign and the dundies. So I said, 'Honey, keep the trophies'." Jan answered instead of Michael as Andy sat himself down on the couch beside you.

"Oh honey, I have the best trophy right here." Michael wrapped an arm around Jan's waist, the pair sharing a quick embrace. "Aside from my dundies..."

"So, should we do the short tour and then I'll start dinner?" Jan suggested, and you stood up.

"I can help with what's left of dinner if you'd like?" You offered, and Jan held up a hand of refrain.

"Oh no, it's just the osso buco needs to braise for about three hours. Everything else is done." Jan said, and you had to stop your eyes from widening.

"Do you mean, like, three hours from now? Or three hours from like, 4 pm?" You asked, unsure if you had heard right. Surely Jan was not about to keep you all in the house until 11?

"You know, Y/N, in Spain they often don't start eating until midnight." Jan informed you, another passive-aggressive insult in your direction like you hadn't lived in the country for a year. The thing was, you had, and Jan was spouting bullshit. "Upstairs first? Let's go." Jan led Andy and Angela upstairs, Michael following. Once they were out of earshot, you whispered quietly.

"I'll need that drink..."

"I'll open the wine." Jim nodded, walking to the kitchen in a daze, pouring two glasses of wine, downing his own, then refilling before he came back over.

You had no idea how two people could be so unsuitably matched for one another and still end up together, but you were very aware that you were watching a relationship deteriorate over a game of charades. Jan's rude comments had been dispersed over you and Michael the entire evening, and Angela had only fueled the fire with her own opinions of you: it seemed that not helping her the week before with a client had backfired.

Jan took her first possible opportunity to change the subject away from Mcihael's terrible attempt at the party game, turning Hunter's CD on for the second time that evening and suggesting that we all just listened to the 'raw music'. In truth, the more you listened, the more you were certain that Jan had slept with her 23-year old assistant.

Your hand rubbed over your arm slowly, wishing you had dressed more appropriately. You knew you had in theory, but you had known Michael long enough to have prepared for a massive gaping hole in the wall covered in tarpaulin. Michael had informed you all that they were in the middle of replacing their sliding door. As soon as your boss caught you rubbing your arms to warm youself, he lifted the blanket from beneath him, offering it to you to keep warm.

"Thanks Michael." You said softly, wrapping it over your shoulders like a shawl, and smiling slightly in Jim's direction.

"You know, I'm so, so sorry for the temperature in her, Y/N. The uh, the sliding glass door shattered." Jan spoke up, and you looked over to her, shaking your head.

"Oh no, it's alright. I'm not even that cold." You protested, but Jan just tutted at you.

"It's actually a really cute story. Do you want to tell it, babe? No? It's a cute story, Michael ran through the sliding glass door because he thought he heard the ice cream truck." Jan let out some forced laughter in hopes the rest of the group might feign amusement, but no one else made a sound.

"Stop! Stop it. I mean, I like ice cream, ok? Sue me. Oh, wait, don't. I shouldn't say that jokingly because she will sue me! She loves to sue!" Michael proclaimed. Jan had tried to sue Dunder Mifflin at the start of the month, it had not been a pretty event. "You know what, babe? That glass door was so clean, it looked invisible."

"You are so right! The glass was always covered in smudges before I moved in! And I cleaned it, so I must be the devil!" Jan and Michael were trying to match each other's hysteria.

"You are! She is! She is the Devil! I'm in Hell!" Michael responded, and you quickly stood up.

"How about more wine? Andy, Jim? Yes?" You asked, starting towards the kitchen.

"No, let me do that Y/N. What sort of host would I be if I didn't get my guests wine. You know what? We'll make it a girls' trip. Girls' trip! Angela, come on." Jan screeched, the petite blonde letting out a strained sigh as she followed you both to the kitchen, Michael leading Andy and Jim to some other remote corner of the house.

"Not even close..." Jan spoke up, making her first task in the kitchen to check the braising dish in the oven.

"You keep a very clean house, Jan." Angela complimented, and Jan laughed, pouring more wine for herself and you. Angela was on water.

"You should see the bathroom after Michael takes a bath. Wow!" Jan chuckled, glancing over at you as you sipped the red. "I don't have to tell you that though, do I Y/N?" She commented, and you looked up.

"What?"

"Oh, don't tell me that he's really changed since you guys dated." Jan continued, and you had to refrain from spitting out the wine in your mouth.

"You... Jan, I never dated Michael. Ever. I mean, He's known me since I was eighteen I... I have never wanted to date Michael, ever." You clarified, setting down your wine.

"I see the way you look at him." Jan said, deadpan in her expression and tone, like she knew something about your fictional sex life with Michael.

"No, never..." You insisted, and Angela made a noise to your left.

"I mean, I've noticed how you look at him, Y/N. daddy issues and all that." She commented, giving you a sly smirk, Jan humming in agreement. You shot a glare Angela's way before touching your phone, trying to make a convincing face of genuine surprise.

"My phone is vibrating, excuse me." You quickly left the kitchen for a bathroom, closing over the door to get a breather. You had to find a way out of the party, anything to get you away from Jan and her chaos. With an idea in mind, you walked back out into the lounge, the men having returned from an adventure to God knows where.

"Hey, Y/N. I was just telling everyone." Jim said, stood in the room's centre. "My landlord just called, the apartment's flooded." He explained, and you put on a frown. He had thought the exact same scenario as you had, and you nodded.

"I'll get our coats." you said quickly, walking towards the entryway.

"Wait, both of you don't need to go." Michael pointed out, and you looked at Jim, his eyes guilty. He was going to leave you there, with Jan and Angela and charades and Big Tuna Andy.

"I mean, your landlord can deal with it for a few more hours right?" You asked. "It's not like we'll get another party like this again."

"I don't know sweetheart. All my stuff is at the apartment." Jim fought back, but you hung up his jacket. He wasn't leaving you in the tenth circle of Hell alone.

"But this party, Jim, surely you want to be here instead?" You implored, holding onto his arm. Your eyes were begging him to stay, and as he nodded, leading you back to the couch, a knock came on the door.

"Who is that? It's like, 10 o'clock..." Jan muttered, getting up and heading over, opening the door to Dwight and a stranger, armed with a cooler, a bottle of wine and two glasses.

"Hello." Dwight said with a smile, and you couldn't help your own as it erupted on your face, the look of dread on Angela's features making it even wider.

"What are you doing here?" Jan asked, folding her arms.

"We came here to eat dinner and to party. This is a dinner party, right?" Dwight said with a shrug.

"What is he doing here Michael?" Jan asked, Angela repeating the question.

"Dwight is my friend. You said that I could not invite Dwight because he was not part of a couple, and because we didn't have enough wine glasses. Dwight brought glasses and a person." Michael said slowly, trying to hide the smile on his own features.

"Fine, whatever you want. Just like always! Whatever you want." Jan raised her voice with each statement.

"Whatever I want? It's never whatever I want. When I wanted to see Stomp, and you wanted to see Wicked, which did we see? Wicked! When I said that I wanted to have kids, and you said you wanted me to have a vasectomy, what did I do? And then, when you said you might want to have kids and I wasn't so sure, who had that vasectomy reversed? And then when you said you definitely didn't want kids who had it reversed back? Snip, snap! Snip, snap! Snip, snap! I did! You have no idea the physical toll that three vasectomies have on a person! And, and I bought this condo to fill with children!" Michael finally took a breath, a timer ringing in the kitchen, indicating that the braised dish was finally fucking ready. But you were gripped, so disgusted by how much you now knew about Michael that you couldn't look away.

"I am so sorry that I don't want to bring kids into this screwed up world, ok? But look, if you want to have kids, then fine, you win. Let's have a fucking kid!" Jan yelled, taking a moment before heading to the kitchen, letting out a sob as she went.

"So... Can we come in?" Dwight asked from the awning.

You were counting down seconds at this point, thanking Jan silently as she set food down in front of you. All you had wanted from tonight was some dinner and polite chatter, and now, looking at the dry meat and questionable rice in fornt of you, you wondered if you'd even be able to eat what had been prepared. It looked like someone had thrown it up onto you plate, and you were beginning to envy Dwight's turkey leg, the man sat beside you on a camping chair, digging into it along with some beet salad.

"So, how do you and Dwight know each other?" Jim, one hand on your leg, the other holding his wine glass, was addressing the older woman Dwight had brought as a companion; she looked old enough to be your grandmother.

"I was his babysitter." The woman said, biting into a chunk of squash.

"It's purely canral, and that's all you need to know." Dwight added, taking another chunk of his turkey leg as he spoke through the chewing.

"Can I get your email? I have so many questions..." Jim asked the woman by his side, who looked more than a little confused.

"What's an email?"

Michael, at the head of the table, took a moment to dip a forkful of meat into his wine glass out of nowhere, causing Jan to sigh loudly at the table's other end. You poured more wine into your near empty glass, glad Jim had found the courage to switch to water and sober up; you certainly wouldn't.

"Can you not do that? It's disgusting." she said quietly, causing Michael to look up from his food.

"You know I have soft teeth. How could you say that?" He asked, giving Jan a pointed stare. When she rolled her eyes in response, Michael's cutlery clatterd against his plate, and he pushed his chair out from the table. "Excuse me a second." He left through the kitchen, heading to the garage. You knew this because when Jim had managed to leave for the bathroom, he texted you explaining how Michael had offered both he and Andy a chance to invest in Jan's company while they toured Michael's 'gym'.

"I really like the meal, Jan." You said to break the silence.

"You haven't eaten anything. Don't lie." She snapped back, and you began massaging the side of your forehead. Maybe with enough merlot you would forget what even happened that night.

Michael returned a minute or so later, carrying a large object in his right hand. He walked all the way around the table to get back to his seat, and set about removing the abstract painting from the wall and replacing it with the neon beer sign Jan had mentioned hating earlier in the night. The hum of the light fixture was nothing compared to the sheer brightness of it, the entire dining area and kitchen being bathed in the blue light.

"Ok! Everybody enjoying their meal?" Michael asked with a smile, settling back into his chair.

"Hey babe? How about we take the beer sign down until our guests leave, and then we can discuss it?" Jan proposed, and Michael shook his head, feeding himself another mouthful of rice.

"No, no. I'm gonna leave it up. I think it ties the whole room together." Michael spoke through a full mouth. And it seemed the neon sign was the last straw for his 'babe'.

"Ok." Jan squeaked, throwing down her napkin and standing from the table, walking to the CD player and putting Hunter's god awful music back on, beginning to sway to the guitar and vocals.

"Jan thinks Hunter's very talented." Michael spoke over the music, prompting Jan to turn it up louder. "You know what? I don't think he's that good."

"At least he's an artist." Jan dragged her words out, her eyes closed and head tilted back.

"B.F.D. I'm a screenwriter." Michael said through another mouthful of food.

"And I'm a candlemaker but you don't hear me bragging about it!" Jan yelled, and you set down your napkin, beginning to look for the easiest escape.

"No, all you do is you get me to try and work on my rich friends." Michael proposefully dipped a chunk of osso buco into his wine, chomping down on it while glaring at his significant other.

"For an investment opportunity!"

"Man, I would love to burn your candles!

"You burn it, you buy it!"

"Oh, good, I'll be your first customer!"

"You're hardly my first."

"... That's what she said!"

With the speed of lightning, Jan turned from the dinner party, grabbing one of Michael's many Dundies from the shelf and launching it at the TV. Michael rose from his seat, walking quickly to see if it was real, if she had really just broken his tv.

"That is a $200 plasma screen TV you just killed!" Michael shouted, and you quickly got up from your chair, Jim following suit, walking around the table with your wine glass and finishing the contents. "Good luck paying me back on your zero dollars a year salary plus benefits, babe!"With that, Jan ran off, and you took your cue.

"Thanks for inviting us Michael." you said quickly, dropping the blanket Michael gave you in place of your coat, Jim helping you slip it on before seeing to himself.

"Aw no, guys, she'll be out of the bathroom soon." Michael tried to get everyone to stay, but Angela and Andy were heading for the coats too, Jim quickly heading back inside for a moment, and the turning off of Hunter's CD gave way to the sirens of a police car approaching.

You were the first to leave the house, heading straight for the car, Jim following as the police came up the driveway. You didn't need to see the aftermath, neither of you did, and before anyone could tell you to stay, and before Michael guilt tripped you into something as stupid as this dinner party, Jim had reversed out of the driveway and sped off down the road, heading for the nearest all night fast food place.

"That was... Traumatic." Jim said after a few minutes, and you nodded in response, eyes glued to the road ahead. "You know what though? I learned a few things."

"Really? Like what?" You asked, Jim making the turn into the drive-thru, taking a few moments to order before turning back to you.

"Well, I now know Michael had three vasectomies, Dwight's babysitter is a cougar, and whatever Michael and Jan have isn't love." He said decidedly, paying for and taking the food from the window attendant.

"Yeah, no shit Sherlock." You managed to laugh, finally taking your eyes off your focus point and looking at Jim as he parked the car, offering you a burger and fries. You found yourself smiling a little, taking the food and unwrapping the burger quickly, taking a bite and letting out a moan of relief. You were starving.

"And, I love you." Jim said quickly, causing you to stop, and swallow your bite.

"What?"

"I mean, I've been in love with you for a really long time now, like, way too long... Since you got back from Europe too long, but I haven't said it yet. So, I'm saying it now." Jim couldn't wipe the grin off his face as he looked at you. "I love you."

"I love you too." You said with not a moment of hesitation, your cheeks flushed red, His hand resting on your leg.

"Oh, uh, I got you something... But I did a bad thing to get it." Jim said quickly, taking a bite of his burger. You did the same, looking at him to explain further. In response, he lifted up a CD case, a picture of Hunter on the cover. "I stole this." He said after swallowing, and you let out a laugh, helping him open it and slot the CD into the car's stereo.

"Jim, you know..." You spoke over the music, taking a few chips and chewing them thoughtfully. "Maybe this should be the song we play during our first dance... Really sets the mood, doesn't it?"

"I say I love you and now we're onto marriage, huh?" Jim teased, and your eyes widened.

"It was just a joke I-I..."

"Calm down Y/L/N, take it easy. It's coming." He said with confidence, and you turned your whole body towards him.

"What's coming?"

"A proposal. When you least expect it. I promise you that." Jim responded, the pair of you unable to hold back the joy you shared.

Maybe the dinner party hadn't been so bad.

Tags: @imsuperawkward @poppirocks @rosie2801 @onceuponahuntersrealm @aziggya @suitelifeofafangirl @legendaryoafhairdozonk @dxbriksx @retrodrummers @sugar-snap @art-flirt

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perseusannabeth · 4 years

Note

Hello !! I have a prompt for nessian 😉 - "I am scared. I don't know if I can do this."

Thank you so much for this prompt! I’m sorry it took me so long to get to. I’m not working this week, so I’m hoping to post a few more things, but this is my last request in my ask box so please send me more if you have any!

Word count: 1845

TW: Panic Attacks

Even when Nesta was little, she had been forced into showing people that she was fearless. Her mother had instilled in her that showing emotions, especially fear was unseemly. All that young Nesta had known was that her mother's eyes would shine with pride when she sat and watched rather than joined in with the other children playing. The pride in her mother's eyes was never something that she could voice, her mother would never tell her daughters that she was happy with them or proud of them. Voicing her anger and shame over them was much easier.

Nesta had become something like a shield for her younger sisters by the time her mother died. Nesta would take the brunt of her mother's disdain and disgust for children, leaving Elain and Feyre to happily do as they pleased. They had asked Nesta to play with them when they were younger, but as they got older they had given up, thinking that Nesta simply didn't want to play with them.

Nesta had always rather played with her sisters whose laughter could be heard ringing throughout their house than sat with her mother bitching about the neighbourhood girls and women. She couldn't be a child though. Nesta had to be a lady from the moment she was born. She was just glad her sisters had been able to be children.

Even their father had treated her like a grown-up. With him, she hadn't felt pressured though, she had felt special. He would talk to her about his trade, ask her opinions, share his problems with her. She had been his favourite as a child, but even that had come at a cost. When they had lost their fortune, she had tried to make him get up, do something, but suddenly he didn't care for Nesta's opinions. Suddenly, being his favourite held no sway with him, and she realised that despite being treated as an adult, she was just a helpless child. Nesta knew how to be a lady, but she didn't know how to be useful in poverty. She could only be angry in poverty.

Nesta was so good at hiding her emotions from others that she sometimes felt as though she hid them from herself too. She would sometimes surprise herself when she felt fear. After being Made, Nesta felt fear all the time. She was in a whole new world, nothing she knew would ever be the same again. She understood nothing of the way this world worked, her sister was traumatised, and she probably was too. She didn't linger on her trauma for very long. She couldn't linger on it then. That was probably a mistake. It was probably the reason why after the war she was so consumed by the trauma.

Right now, all she was consumed with was fear. Nobody knew about what she could hear when there was a fire roaring. Nobody else seemed to notice the way a fire crackling sounded like the snapping of bones, necks twisted in ways they shouldn't, pleading eyes as wings broke. She had kept it concealed from everyone. She used blankets to keep me warm, layered them up until she was practically suffocating. She would rather suffocate under her blankets than light a fire.

Tonight she couldn't escape the fire. They were everywhere, thanks to some Illyrian festival which meant they lit bonfires and let fireworks off all night. The nights were cold anyway, and the bonfires that were lit all over the camp were warm and inviting to sit next to while admiring the view of the fireworks lighting up the night sky.

Nesta had known tonight would be tough. She knew that without her alcohol she wouldn't be able to drown out those wretched noises. The loud bangs from the fireworks and the low crackling of bonfires filled the air, and Nesta wanted to curl up and sleep forever. She didn't want to hear anything anymore. She knew she was being overwhelmed. When she had been trying to help Elain after they had been made, she had read about sensory overload. She had made sure Elain wouldn't suffer that when they were newly Made, after she mentioned that she could hear Lucien’s heartbeat. She knew the signs well enough to know that’s what she was going through right now. Even then, Nesta didn't move from her spot next to Emerie.

Emerie had become Nesta's friend, although Nesta would never say that out loud. She knew Emerie would never say it out loud either, but that was what made them friends. They were similar enough to understand each other, without being so similar that they clashed. She knew that Emerie was glad Nesta had come tonight. Emerie had mentioned the festival casually enough, but Nesta could tell that she had hoped Nesta would attend. She might have told Emerie no if it wasn't for the fact that Nesta knew that Emerie needed Nesta. Nesta being there made it easier for Emerie to be a lady, to ignore the Illyrians and the way they glared at Emerie. Nesta drew their attention away from her. Nesta made people feel strong, even if she didn’t feel that way herself.

The old Nesta might have enjoyed the shock on Cassian's face as Nesta had walked over to the bonfires with Emerie. Cassian's eyes had widened, and his mouth hung open in shock. It was his saving grace that the Illyrians were too nervous around Nesta to even notice the awestruck look on the face of their General.

The current Nesta, couldn't even bring herself to care about the way Cassian looked at her. She was too busy focusing on not crying or throwing up. Her walls were up, and she was sat stiffly, trying to block out the noises. She could do this. She could control this, for Emerie. Nesta Archeron was not someone who showed fear.

A group of Illyrian males walked up and added more fuel to the fire, making it spark and crackle, even more, burning with new strength and intensity. Nesta felt her stomach churn at the noises and tried to take deep breaths to settle her stomach. She could do this, she could conquer this fear. She would not let anyone see her weakness.

Nesta was pulled out of her focus by a hand coming to rest softly on her shoulder. She looked up, away from the fire that had hypnotised her and saw Cassian looking down at her, worry painted across his face. Nesta looked away, not wanting to think about Cassian and his emotions right now.

Escaping Cassian and his emotions, however, was a different story. She knew he could read her well. Too well. After the first time, Cassian had lit a fire in the little living room in his cabin, he had noticed her. He had seen the way she had gone white as a sheet and left the room. He had heard the gagging, as she dry heaved in the bathroom. She hadn’t had any food for a while, probably too long, but she had been thankful since it had meant she didn’t have anything to throw up.

“Come with me, let’s get out of here” Cassian murmured, so only Nesta could hear.

She wanted to refuse. She wanted to ignore him, to pretend he couldn’t see right through her. She hated asking for help. She hated people seeing her vulnerable, especially when it was Cassian. She cursed herself for being so weak. Her mother would be so disappointed in her for letting a man help her. But Cassian isn’t a man, he’s a male. Nesta remembers that her mother would likely have tried to kill her if she saw the abomination she had become.

Nesta stood up. She fire was making her delve into thoughts that she knew would hurt her. She knew she did this when she wanted to drink her problems away, thinking of the worst things so she would hurt herself. She needed to get out of here, and Cassian knew that.

She followed Cassian blindly, not even paying attention to her surroundings. All she could hear and think about was the fire, and what it sounded like. The memories were flooding her. She couldn’t keep them at bay. She was weak, and she had failed at keeping her mind in check.

"I am scared. I don't know if I can do this." Nesta didn’t even realise she had spoken until Cassian froze. She hadn’t meant to blurt out her thoughts, but something about Cassian made it hard to control herself sometimes. He always made her do the opposite of what her mother had ingrained in her.

Cassian had stopped in the middle of the path, which she realised would take them back to his cabin, far away from the fires. He slowly turned to look at her, his golden eyes not leaving hers. “It’s normal you know? For people who have seen things like you saw to be haunted afterwards. There’s no shame in it, and no shame in asking for help.”

Nesta felt her throat tightening. She knew she couldn’t talk or she would cry. She could feel her eyes filling with tears, but she didn’t look away from Cassian.

Cassian held out his hand, offering it to her like a lifeline. Nesta stared at it for a second, wondering what this would mean to Cassian, to herself if she held his hand. She didn’t let herself think about it any further and took his hand. The warmth radiating from him seemed to soothe her slightly. He stepped towards her cautiously, as though he thought she might spook, like some kind of startled animal. He was careful not to cage her in, not to get too close.

“It’s okay. You’re allowed to feel things. You’re allowed to be scared. And more importantly, if you think you can’t get through this on your own, you are allowed to ask for help. It doesn’t have to be me, ask your sisters, as Emerie, as a stranger, but as for help. I don’t know what you’ve been told in the past Nesta, but one of the biggest strengths I’ve ever seen. I know it’s hard. I still struggle to ask for help myself.”

Nesta could feel a few tears escape and felt Cassian’s hand twitch, as though he wanted to wipe it away but didn’t dare. She didn’t know how Cassian always seemed to know what to say. He always knew what was going on with her. She hadn’t known she needed someone to tell her it was okay to ask for help until he had said it. The contradiction to her mother’s instructions. Hearing someone else say it, out loud was almost a shock to the system.

“Take me home please?” Nesta managed to croak out.

“Always” Cassian whispered, as he led her to the cabin, not letting go of her hand that seemed to be keeping her grounded. Cassian kept her grounded. He knew that, and she was starting to see that.

Tags list (please let me know if you would like to be added/removed from this)

@hizqueen4life @kelly-fasel @sannelovesreading @acourtofmarauders @maastrash @sjm-things @bookstantrash @cursebreaker29 @humanexile @iammissstark @stardelia @superspiritfestival @courtofjurdan @cass-nes

#my fic #acotar #nesta archeron #cassian #nesta x cassian #nessian #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acosf #acotar ff #acotar fanfic #Anon #sim talks

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dorotheajanegilmore · 5 years

Text

Devil’s Daughter

Previous: 1 , 2, 3, 4, 5, 6,

Chapter seven

I had been staying with the Winchester's for just over two weeks now. My purple case looked great against the brown walls of the guest room, really made it feel like home.

The first night I stayed at the bunker (Before visiting parents in NY)

"Sorry it's so plain." Sam has said when he first brought me in here.

I shrugged. "It's much better than my dorm."

He chuckled and nodded. "Yeah I know how ya feel. Stanford."

"NYU." I admitted and he nodded with an impressed face. "Creative writing."

"Law."

I cringed. "Smarty pants."

Instantly an attractive smile broke out across his face and he shook his head, blushing wildly. "No. I never graduated."

"I don't think I will either, at least not yet." I told him truthfully.

"I hope that decision isn't because of us? I know how it feels to have your studies cut short and if I could go back..." Sam paused before he shook his head, laughing at himself. "I actually wouldn't go back."

I laughed at his honestly and shook my head. "No, I've been contemplating dropping out for a while. This whole angels exhausting and paternity testing is just the push I needed."

"Right." Sam wondered over to the bed and sat down beside me. He looked at me with a face of concern. "How are you feeling? Honestly."

"Honestly?" I asked and he nodded. I let out a deep breath, letting my shoulder sink. "I feel...like it's not real. I haven't thought about too deeply or really acknowledged it properly. I know that's not healthy but I just don't know how to accept this. My family life has always been rocky, my mother hates me."

Sam recoiled and pulled an offended face, as if I had just delivered a blow to his stomach. "I'm sure she doesn't hate you." I knew that his situation was difficult at the moment. Dean told me that their mother was trapped in some sort of apocalypse world.

"Don't defend her, I promise. You'll see tomorrow, she hates me." I emphasised it again but he shook his head, not having it. I decided to just continue because there was no way in changing his mind. "So, how did Dean recover so quickly? Those guys tortured him too."

Sam shifted on the bed and adjusted his watch on his wrist. He was clearly uncomfortable the way he was sat because his legs are way longer than mine and even my legs ached. We were both sat criss cross and I couldn't take it any longer.

I moved to sit at the edge of the bed, Sam sighing in relief and copying me as he answered. "Castiel healed him. Dean was supposed to save you from those guys but they ended up injecting and torturing him too. Demons aren't really fond of us, we've made a name for ourselves as hunters and they didn't know he was working with Crowley."

I nodded understandingly. I bit the inside of my cheek as I thought about asking the next question. My curiosity got the better of me and so I asked. "Did you, do you and Dean think I'm evil?"

Sam thought for a moment, before gently taking my smaller hand in his larger one. "I won't lie to you. When Rowena told us that Lucifer had a daughter and we needed her help...I definitely believed you to be evil. I thought that we were gonna find you at a bar murdering people or eating babies." Sam laughed at that last part.

“Why eating babies?" I tilted my head to look at him, confused as to where he'd get that from.

"Because ya'know, Lilith eats babies? At least in mythology and all of my text books-"

As Sam rambled on I looked down at the ground. I had forgot about Lilith being my true mother, I was so busy worrying about the devil I forgot about his first demon.

"Hey, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you." Sam put a gentle hand on my shoulder and I shook my head.

"It's not your fault, Sam. I just can't believe I'm not a product of Christian and Rose. That Hallie and Alex aren't my blood related siblings. They'll always be my family, regardless of what a test says but I had that I don't have an actual connection to them. I hate that my blood isn't their blood. I hate that my blood is...evil." I sobbed as the word evil left my mouth.

Sam shook his head and wrapped his big arms around me, pulling me into him for a supporting hug. I cried into his red plaid chest as he held me tight. "You're not evil, Elle."

"You don't (hicup) know that!" I shook my head, feeling him hold me tighter. He began to rub his palm up and down my back, as if he was soothing a crying baby.

"No I don't, you're right. But if raising Jack has taught me anything, it's that we can't make quick assumptions."

———

Present day

(Two weeks living in the bunker)

I sat in the library with a book under my nose. Every waking moment of the passed week has been spent reading up on Lucifer, and learning my powers.

So far I have discovered my psionic energy blasts can be used in blasts, streams, waves and bolts to move things, lift and even throw things. Allowing me to hit, push or pull a target, potentially exerting enough force to destroy them. I had also improved my telepathy, I can control when to and when not to listen to thoughts so I could actually focus now.

As I was reading about Lucifer's cage I felt a presence enter the room. I was already on edge from all of the reading, Satan's not a happy guy. Feeling threatened I spotted a pair of scissors on the end of the table and used my new found powers to lift them up and send them at the person watch me.

As I span around, hands glowing red I realised who it was. Dean was stood at the door with wide eyes and hands held up in the air alarmed.

The blade of the scissors, surrounded by red wisps, hovered just inches away from his neck.

"I didn't mean to scare you, little red." He pushed the scissors away with his index finger. They landed in the floor with a snap and I sighed in relief.

"Dean, sorry about that." I felt immediate relief, so happy that it was him and not some creature I had been reading about. I cringed, hoping he wouldn't be to mad at me. "I'm reading about monsters so I'm a bit on edge.

"A bit?" He smirked, amused. He pulled out a seat opposite me at the table and sat down. "Is that why I was nearly executed in my own home?"

I nodded and slid the book over to him. I pointed at a paragraph and he quickly skimmed over it. It said;

The powers of a nephilim would be to great to raise such a creature on earth among mortals. A human woman could never contain a baby nephilim for very long as it could tear them apart. A nephilim will grow at rapid speeds, much faster than a human woman's body could contain. Once born a nephilim will reach adulthood within a matter of hours.

"Yeah." Dean nodded, confirming that the information in front of me was in fact correct. "Jack was born and within twenty minutes he looked like he was twenty years old.

"So how come I have baby photos? Actual picture evidence of me growing through the years. Every birthday party photo shows a year of progression. Am I slow? Am I broken?"

Dean chuckled at my outburst and shook his head. "Elle, there's never been an angel, demon cocktail baby. You're the first. Perhaps Lilith's genes are much slower."

"Or." Came a Scottish voice from the doorway. Rowena stood with a mischievous smile on her face as she danced her way over to the table.

"Perhaps I did a wee spell to aid in your human growth. I was there when Lucifer chose your parents and he made sure that Rose would be strong enough to encapsulate you for nine months, not to raise your relatives eyebrows at a two month unholy pregnancy. The spell made sure that Lucifer's child would grow as a normal human until she reached adulthood, then her powers would slowly blossom. That's why it's important that we found you." She lifted her martini up as if to cheers us before taking a large sip.

"I thought you want me to put him in a cage?" I raised a brow, wondering why she was adding to her story now.

Rowena shrugged. "That’s for the after party. Once we’ve rescued Mary from the apocalypse world, you and Jackie boy can work together to put him in a new cage, a stronger sturdier cage. Come on, had I told you this earlier you would’ve been overwhelmed and scared away. We need you, Red.”

Dean shook his head and pushed the book away. "Damn it, Rowena! Any other information you'd care to share?"

Rowena bit her lip and tapped her finger against her chin in thought. ”Aside from Lucifer wanting Jack and Elle back? No, not that I can think off.”

Next: 7

Tags: @lilulo-12 @vicmc624

#dean winchester #dean winchester fic #dean winchester x ofc #x ofc #x reader #imagine #fanfic #fanfiction #spn #supernatural #sam winchester #castiel #rowena #lucifer #mary winchester #dean winchester x reader

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sophiaede · 2 years

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Job Hunting

A large concern of mine at the moment is whether or not I will be able to secure an art related job after graduation. I made the decision to not work over the last 5 months of my degree so I could focus on my course. I am currently comfortably living off savings, as planned, but I want to start working as soon as possible after the year ends. In pursuit of this I have already started looking for possible jobs and considering what roles I would like to pursue.

I came across Colchester and Ipswich Museums, Display and Exhibition Assistant role advertised on the Colchester Borough Council website. I think installing displays and exhibitions would be a really good fit for me. When reading the Person Specifications I felt I had experience in almost all the skills they were looking for. There was no start date stated, only that interviews would be held 31st March. I initially assumed they would want a candidate with immediate start and thought I would take note of the contact details and would keep a look out for similar roles with them closer to the end of the year. But then I thought 2 months isn't that long for a business to wait if they had little response to the job advertisement. Also if they liked me for the role we could possibly work something out where I could work part-time til ending uni. Or maybe they have another job available that they think I am suited for? Basically I don't know what I don't know!

So I decided to apply regardless and include in my cover letter that my studies end at the end of May. Why not at least try, right? Before I could apply though I had to update my CV first. My current CV was heavily focused on my restaurant career and only had a small snippet of art experience in the form of volunteer work. It also had very little mention of my personal art practice and achievements. To apply for this role I need to still highlight my business management skills for areas such as organisation and understanding of health & safety but also showcases my experience in a galleries and my participation in exhibitions as an artist.

I have never changed the font or layout of my CV since first building it at 19 years old. These choices were initially intended to look clean and professional but as it has grown in size I think the boring layout and solid black font can be overwhelming. Areas I wish to stand out get lost. I looked up several CV templates, after all I am applying for a creative role. Though, in my prior experience as an employer I hate over complicated and gimicky looking CVs. I have seen many that feel like the look of the word art has been focused on over the context it is suppose to contain. I settled on the below that I felt was clean and precise with enough variation in font and colour to highlight each section.

Even if I'm not successful in my application, I am glad I took the time to update and rewrite my CV. I was worried about finding an art role but writing down all my art gallery experience, my art practice and the exhibitions I have participated in and my achievements such as my inclusion in Space Online Collaborative Residency has made me realise I already have a lot of prior experience and skills. I feel less like an imposter and am confident I will find my way into an art career one way or another.

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muzeez · 4 years

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Thursday

7th May 2020

18:05

It got to about 4pm and I decided I was going to brave walking past Henrietta, Merlin, Persia and Folie, who, as usual were "hanging out" outside the entrance of the building. As I was about to set off I could hear a brand new voice and when I peeped out of my nets a new guy had joined them, who's not even from our building. He was there yesterday, drinking with Merlin and Henrietta and he was virtually on top of Merlin. When I came back from the shop (yesterday) Henrietta had gone in. I walked passed Merlin and the guy, who normally says hello to me, and neither of them battered an eyelash at me. Just totally engrossed with eachother. I was fucking FURIOUS, not so much with the guy from outside, but with Merlin. I thought, 'yeah you bastard, you certainly can be an ignorant piece of shit, when you want to be'... all because he's got a fresh new person with him... Cunt. I felt so insignificant and almost a sense of humiliation. He speaks with everyone, even when he's inside, a person can't walk passed without him rushing to his window.

When this lockdown business started I was actually quite looking forward to it. I was looking forward to having a massive break from work. I was looking forward to not having to put up with the hostile crap from customers. I was looking forward, to not feeling like a total outcast around my colleagues and other traders, council people, employees. I was going to be able to get on top of myself, by myself, without nit pickers and fault finders and haters.

It didn't take me long before I realised that I wasn't going to get much of a breather where that was concerned. The weather's been nice and Henrietta's been out every single day, rallying the other neighbours to be on side with her. Merlin, Persia, Folie all making sure they get their social feed and I'm feeling like an outcast AGAIN. Why can't they keep themselves to themselves. The Henrietta and Merlin complain about how painful lockdown is for them. Henrietta hasn't even tried to stay inside, if anything she's socializing more than ever because normally she doesn't even work so what's changed for her??!! Then when she's finished having her fill outside my window, she goes inside and starts with her "facetiming" and trust me, she makes no effort whatsoever to keep her voice down.

Anyway, I went downstairs to go to the shops and I saw the door, leading into the back area, was open. I slipped out of that door so I wasn't forced to pass my neighbours.

I arrived at the local supermarket and there was a queue a mile long to get in. I walked all the way round the carpark area, so I didn't violate anybody's distancing.

I was becoming increasingly irritated because I noticed a dude had gotten ahead of me in the queue who I had previously seen as I was walking up the road and he was quite a way behind me and in the other side of the road. To see he was suddenly in front of me and well ahead in the queue meant that he hadn't been bothered about violating distancing rules. He must have gone up the steps where the main doors were, while I'd conscientiously walked all the way around.

I eventually got into the supermarket, I had wiped down my basket with a disinfectant wipe and I was picking up the bits n bats that I needed.

I kept getting a whiff of strong sweat like somebody hadn't used deodorant or had a shower for a year and as I walked down the last aisle, it became clear that it was the guy who'd gotten ahead of me in the queue. He was ahead of me again, joining the queue for the cashier.

My heart sank as I saw that that the cashier on duty was the old miserable bitch who always looked like she was irritated by me.

When it got to my turn and I approached the cashier desk, the cashier started talking into her headset and looking passed me. All the cashiers have a bad habit of doing that and it always seems to be when it's my turn to be served. I don't notice them doing it to other customers. Anyway, as usual, I tried to ignore it and maintained my usual friendliness, "Aya!!" I said as I placed my basket down.

"Aya!" she reluctantly said back.

Then I became aware of somebody stood to the right of me about 1 metre away. The supermarket have put social distancing markings on the floor to guide customers. The old bitch who was serving me and had barely looked at me yet, started talking to the woman behind me asking her something, it was in relation to the conversation she'd been having in her headset. The woman started reeling off what it was she was wanting. Violating my social distancing space and trying to put herself before me while I'm getting served and the cashier welcoming her to do so.

My irritation level was increasing and increasing.

Even in normal times, I've found when I go to the supermarket, staff are pigs towards me and other customers are always trying to make me feel like I'm in their way and they have the right to be ahead of me, when I have waited my turn. I have rarely seen it happen to other customers. It's always me. It infuriates me, especially because I don't do that to anyone. I wait my turn, I keep a reasonable distance from people in queues, (even in normal times), I don't cut into other people's conversations or interactions and I always have manners.

My blood was boiling and I wanted to turn around and scream "FUCKOFF YOU IGNORANT BITCH... wait your FUCKING turn and get the FUCK outta my space, can't you see the signs in the floor you arrogant cow." I know that if I had done that, it would have been ME in the wrong and the woman would probably start arguing with me, it would have been an excuse for the old bitch cashier to be even MORE of a bitch towards me and I would pribably end up being the one getting escorted of the premises with every arsehole giving me disapproving, hateful looks.

The smell of sweat was still hanging in the air from the dude who'd been served before me so I turned to the woman behind me and smiled, "That's not me, just in case you were thinking it was, it was the guy before me." I was ignoring every instinct I had in my body to spit venom at her and going the complete opposite, making a comment about the smell of sweat in a friendly, jokey manner. The woman just looked at me indifferently, with a miserable attitude expression on her face, as if to say, "why are you talking to me?"

Just as I'd finished the sentence and before anybody could respond with laughter or joke even if they wanted to and before I could even turn my head back to the front, the cashier in an abrupt and snappy manner, "five pound 45 please" even though she said please there was nothing polite about her tone and she was cutting off my comment sharply. So, now I'm holding the job up am I, bitch. A minute ago she seemed more interested talking to the woman rather than paying attention to the transaction with me and now she wants to get snappy with me because I've put my attention on the woman too.

I scanned my card and the woman behind me decided to storm off impatiently. You'd have thought I had screamed abuse at her.

By now my heart was beating so fast I felt like I had a trapped, panicking butterfly in my chest. I was so angry but I still composed myself and remained polite.

As I was leaving the supermarket the woman who had been breathing down my neck was at one of the main serving tills, saying something to the cashier there. As I walked by her she looked up towards the cashier who'd just served me and said "oh.... (something inaudible)". She didn't give me a sideways glance.

As I made my way home, I was thinking to myself about the videos on facebook where you get individuals having "public freakouts" and fights breaking out in shops.

When I got back to my building I noticed that the backdoor had been closed.

'Bastards!' I thought to myself. It felt deliberate. That meant I had to walk through the front entrance, passed my neighbours, which I really didn't want.

As I walked down the side of the building, I saw Merlin throwing something into the main bins. Probably empty beer cans. They weren't in any bags or anything.

"Aya!" he shouted.

"Aya!" I shouted back. Then he was off. When I got round the front of the building, I just saw the main door closing behind him. Everybody had suddenly decided to go inside. But I found it Odd that Merlin had been so quick to disappear through the door. Merlin, who can't wait to talk to people. He's spent every single day since lockdown began, outside my window, having a whale of a time, acting like he's topdog and spokes person of the building. Chatting and socializing with everyone. Even when he's indoors, people can't walk passed without him running to his window to chat them up. Yet, right now, he can't wait to get inside?? Shady little fuckface.

The first thing I heard when I opened the door is Henrietta, "... merlin,..... Oh I'LL TELL YA LATER!!" So, it was as if Merlin had rushed inside to say something to Henrietta, who was just taking chairs back into her flat. Whether it was to do with me, I don't know but for Henrietta to be suddenly saying something then deciding to shout, "I'll tell ya later" when she knew I was coming through the door. It's not the behaviour of people who want to make you feel good with them, is it?

As I walked passed she said 'aya' but it was one of them sarcastic ayas. I said aya back but I made it clear in my tone that I was pissed off and not happy.

When I got back in my flat and closed the door behind me, my rage exploded. It all became too overwhelming and I was seething. I just wanted to go to the shop for a few essentials and a little break and it was like I'd been bombarded with nastiness and shadiness from every which way. No love or acceptance for me whatsoever. If I thought a quick trip to the shops was going to make me feel better, I was wrong. Before I felt a little bit iffy but now I felt like complete shiy and I was raging because I felt totally unable to retaliate. I screamed "FUCK 'EM ALL" at the top of my lungs "FUCKING SET OF BASTARDS... I'LL TELL YA LATER??.... BITCH.... SMUG ANOREXIC BASTARD...." I was basically spitting venom out of my mouth and the rage was so that I didn't care what I was screaming but the anger was Still increasing because I wasn't able to scream it directly at them. I grabbed my washing uo bowl out of the sink and I flung it across the kitchen "SELFISH DISCRIMINATING BASTARDS.... WHO THE FUCK DO THEY THINK THEY ARE...." I ran across the kitchen and kicked the washing up bowl into the living room and it shattered into pieces, I went after it again and flung it back into the kitchen, imagining it was Merlin's head. It was Him who I mainly wanted to get and I screamed that fact at the top of my lungs. I was out of control. "Smug BASTARD.... JUST BECAUSE HE'S GOT EVERYONE AROUND HIM AND HE'S GOT ASBO GEORGE ON HIS SIDE" I screamed. "SHADY LITTLE FUCKER!!" It was so much coming out of me and it was mostly directed at Merlin. But I'm angry at everyone. Henrietta, Merlin, Persia, Folie, Johanna (who befriended Marie on Facebook but not me) all the outsiders coming to our building and giving Henrietta and Merlin exactly what they want. Oh and that Beatrice. All of them. Not just because of the current lockdown situation and their indirect disregard of what we should all be doing but I'm angry at the way they make me feel, by all having a whale of a time outside my window and calling out to eachother and the social isolation that they make me feel. Even before the pandemic, Henrietta used to do it. Rallying everyone to hang out, outside the main entrance but since the lockdown she and the others seem to have ramped it up. Including being friends with eachother and I've noticed she doesn't seem to want to bother moving to the back area anymore. They stay their arses in front of my window. Then I go to the supermarket and have the cashier being a complete Bitch and another customer being a complete bitch and people getting ahead of me because they don't respect distancing rules and they stink of sweat.

Oh, I'd also screamed about them DMing and contacting eachother because I know they do. I get the funny feeling they contact eacthother encouraging eachother to do things like banging and stuff.

When I'd calmed down, I actually had a headache, from the screaming.

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littlelegsltd · 5 years

Text

The story of my battle with Post Natal Depression that I hid behind a smile 💕

Hi all,

As many of you know, I suffered with Post Natal Depression but I have never shared the raw detail of it with you. Since I always encourage you all to be open and honest about how you are feeling, I felt it was only fair to practise what I preach and shed more light on what I went through. I hope it helps some of you realise that you are not alone.

It was my experience that drove me to set up Little Legs – to help new parents (hopefully) never feel like I did. Now I am not sharing this for sympathy or anything other than to show you that I have a great understanding of PND and the impact it can have on you as a parent, a partner, a friend… just know that I am here to hold your hand and help you.

Here’s my story.

The photo shows the four of us looking happy – in fact, it could be a very typical ‘husband, wife and their 2.4 kids’ family photo. But this photo was taken at what was possibly the worst time of my life. This is why I never take photos and images posted on social media at face value. This is also the reason I like meeting other mums face-to-face – I have great intuition as many of you know from the messages I have dropped you after a class!

So, I found out I was pregnant with my second child, Daniel, in January 2013. The pregnancy was planned, but it happened quicker than I had anticipated. In all honesty, I didn't react very well at all. This was the start of my prenatal depression. I instantly thought I had made a massive mistake – what if Aimee hated me? What if I had ruined her life? As the weeks passed, these nagging doubts continued to haunt me. We had our first scan and, as I sat there, I just spent the time worrying that I could be having twins and then Aimee would really hate me, and I couldn't possibly have a girl as I couldn't love another girl as much. These thoughts overwhelmed me; they caused frequent panic attacks, but I hid them from everyone. Why was I being so ungrateful? I literally had everything, yet I felt awful. At the sexing scan, Daniel crossed his legs and hid his bits – I was devastated. I needed to know it wasn't a girl. The next day, I called my husband and asked if we could have a private scan. He knew it was coming so he agreed and we booked it. We found out we were having a boy and I felt relieved.

I hated being pregnant with Daniel; I was uncomfortable, I binged on food and pretended to the world I was happy. After a relatively straightforward, uncomplicated labour he arrived. He was bruised as he came out so quickly, and my bits had ‘given him a love bite’ apparently!!

That night on the ward I stared at him for hours; he was awesome – a weird, purple-looking thing with a nose bigger than his face and lots of hair, but he was my boy! I couldn't wait to introduce him to Aimee.

The next day I was discharged and something in me switched, I don't know what it was, but I barely remember much of anything from then until 3 months later when we were at Butlins. Everyone had gone off, and I was alone with Daniel. I looked at him and said out loud, “Wow…you’re my little boy."

Don't get me wrong, I was a good mum to him, but I was in a permanent daze. I spent a lot of time crying, and Aimee (aged 2) learned very quickly to just hold me and wipe my tears. I will never be able to forgive myself for this. Andy (hubby) was working in Birmingham and had to take a lot of time off work as I just couldn't cope. We got through those days and weeks, yet neither of us realised just how bad it was.

Leading up to Christmas that year, Aimee finally reacted to having a little brother and refused to make eye contact with me. I knew it was ‘normal’, but I felt even more broken. She had become my comfort blanket, and now she wasn’t there for me.

Christmas Day arrived and I was excited as always. Aimee opened her Baby Annabell doll and it didn’t cry like I expected it to, and the anxiety crept in – I had failed, I had ruined Christmas.

We had planned to go to our local for Christmas lunch. We arrived and sat down at our table. I felt like I was invisible, in a bubble. We were surrounded by people cheering and enjoying themselves, and I just wanted to hide. Aimee asked for ketchup with her meal, so I put some on her plate, but she pushed it away – she wanted Daddy to do it. Daniel cried for milk, so Andy helpfully gave him his bottle. I looked at my family and couldn’t have felt more alone; they didn’t need or want me.

I could feel a panic attack coming so I said I needed the toilet. I hid in the cubicle to breathe and cry.

When we got back after lunch, the rest of the day was a blur.

When teatime arrived, Aimee, Andy and Daniel were all in the lounge. I looked at them all, realising I needed to go so I said I was going out for some air.

I grabbed my phone and keys and got into my car. Up to this point, I had had several thoughts of driving my car head on into a tree to make all the pain go. I decided it was the right time to ‘go’.

I set off, heading to the place with the tree that would end all my pain. As I drove, I passed a local park and something made me go into the car park. I parked up and grabbed my phone. I called my work friend – she picked up and I said, “I don’t belong to my family.” As it was Christmas Day, I was surprised she had answered. She told me to stay where I was and she would call me back in twenty minutes. I watched the clock and waited. As promised, she called me back and I repeated, “I don’t belong to my family”. I don’t remember the rest of the conversation other than agreeing to go home and tell Andy I needed help. I did as I was told.

When I got home, I went into the lounge – no one had moved! I told Andy I needed help and he hugged me.

We arranged to have marriage counselling actually! At the first session, the counsellor said, “You two are going to be fine, but you, Kirstie, you are really poorly. I want to help you.”

We completed 6 weeks of counselling together; we had been through so much so it was great for us. I then saw a separate counsellor and returned to her 3 months later. I spent 2 years with her in the end!

I also arranged to see my GP who prescribed medication which I still take; I’ve come to terms with the fact that I will be on it for life and, honestly, I’m ok with that!

It took a long time for Daniel and I to connect, sadly. He was all about Daddy, it became a running joke that he wouldn’t come to me! If he fell over and I picked him up, he would cry. While learning to walk, he would happily walk away from me and never ever come to me. I laughed and encouraged the joke – but it was my way of coping as it hurt so much. To be honest, I don’t think I gave him much emotionally as I was so empty.

When Daniel turned 14 months, something switched for both of us. This was the start of our amazing relationship! He is now a fully-fledged Mummy’s boy – we are as thick as thieves, we are so alike, we are both the naughty ones, and we just ‘get’ each other. Fortunately, what happened didn’t taint us.

I still struggle with ‘Mummy guilt’, but don’t we all? I make mistakes and beat myself up, but don’t we all? I’m not perfect, but in the eyes of my children, I’m the perfect Mummy, and that is what counts.

I can now look back on my battle with PND in a positive light as it made me who I am; I wouldn’t have my Little Legs business without it, and my motivation and passion to help others is stronger than it’s ever been. I will continue to fight for greater awareness around PND and all mental health issues.

I hope, in sharing this story, that those of you who have been through similar experiences will realise that you are not alone. I am here for you and if you feel anything like I did, or know someone dealing with similar issues, please get in touch so I can help you 💕

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scriptautistic · 7 years

Text

Breakdowns of some of my Autistic Characters so that I don't screw this up! :O

(So I sorta tried to cover things that I noticed were mostly what made autistic people, well, autistic, but I really hope these aren’t coming across as offensive! :O ) And sorry it’s so bloody long!

Meghan Cerne, 29, French. Stimming: Playing with hair/rubbing scalp, entertaining self by reciting her favourite films (usually Greek myth movies), healing magic strands (they’re pretty, golden, make a nice sound, and have a visually stunning flow to them). Sensitivities: Textures on skin (she hates the feeling of make-up particularly), extremely sensitive to pain, noise, and bright lights. Special Interest: Languages, Ancient Greece/Greek Myths Social Skills: Though seemingly very social, she gets distracted when catching someone’s eyes and tends to talk too much. Likewise, she also jumps between one of several languages she knows mid-conversation without knowing it and will often quote things out of context when they mean something particular to her. Other notes: Has a strong idea of how she wants things to go and reacts negatively when things don’t go that way, mostly by becoming confrontational and grumpy.

Eliza Drakes, 21, Canadian Stimming: Brushing her bangs out of her face, pinching her ear when overwhelmed, pointing at things randomly (mostly to get that beautiful flicking sensation in her finger, less so for actually pointing at something), ASMR (aural stimming). Sensitivities: Very insensitive to busy sights, pain, hunger, and exhaustion, which leads to her being malnourished and depressed alot of the time. She’s also very sensitive to pressure and enjoys weighted clothes and being held very tightly. Special Interest: Species of crow/raven, family history Social Skills: Difficulty empathising with others, anti-social, disjunct speech patterns (she thinks in fragments and her fragmented speech is her way of putting those thoughts in an understandable order as best as she can), desperate need for routine. Other notes: Is easily overwhelmed, doesn’t have many meltdowns (but gets unfortunately self-destructive when it does happen), perhaps a sense of justice that is far too strong/black and white perspective, has regular shutdowns. Has her coat and sword as comfort items, and loves milk but only 2%.

Steph Nashi, 19, Japanese Stimming: Pressure stimming with tight, constricting clothing (like corsets), hitting things (drumming), touching herself/doing the honhon, scratching at her shoulders/elbows/knees. Sensitivities: Extremely sensitive to heat, gets uncomfortable and loudly complains in way-too-hot areas. Also hyposensitive to sound, doesn’t hear things usually the first couple of times until attention is brought over. Special Interests: Fashion/make-up, hair styling, very specifically jungle beat drumming. Social Skills: She’s overly extroverted, never usually understanding the concept of personal space. She often talks over people, makes far too many sarcastic remarks without realising she’s actually being rude, but eventually she usually does find the flow of the conversation. Other notes: Also has strong ideas of how she wants things to go, though when they don’t go that way she becomes aggressive and feels the need to hit things. At first those things were walls but she was taught to play drums and now uses them to vent her anger when things aren’t right.

Lauren Nashi, 19, Japanese Stimming: Looking at shiny things and things with cool patterns for hours, ‘ticking’ (a sound she makes with her tongue), working on her motorcycle (especially when she gets to disassemble something), pulling her beanie over her face and muffling herself. Sensitivities: Strong aversion to the smell of oil despite loving her workshop (hence all her air fresheners), hating any taste that is fruity, sweet, or sour, no vestibular sensitivities whatsoever and loves intense speeds and bumps. Special Interests: Mechanics, motorcycles and cars, the Mad Max movies. Social Skills: Lauren is far less social than her twin. She only associates with people when she wants to, otherwise mostly keeping to her work. She is often mistaken for mocking people or deliberately copying them but she is actually a person who needs to repeat statements to herself several times before comprehending them. If she is pressed for time, she won’t make much sense and will simply repeat the word followed by the first word that comes to mind for her.

Again, I hope these are actually okay for characters, if not please tell me cause I wanna do these badass ladies well! And thanks again! ^_^

Looks like you’ve put a lot of work into these characters! I think most of what you’ve written looks pretty good to me, but I can make a few comments to try to help you improve. :)

Meghan: Overall, she sounds quite realistic, especially the part about quoting things out of context (I do that all the time!). I do see one issue, though: multilingual people do not jump between languages without realizing it, especially if one of those languages is a native language. This is unrelated to autism, it’s just how human brains deal with languages. Someone who knows more than one language at a non-native level will never accidentally use their native language. However, what can happen is that when using a non-native language, they may accidentally use one or two words of a different non-native language when they are not speaking carefully. These are usually the “little” words that we don’t think about using, and they may slip out in the non-native language most recently or most commonly used. For example, I am fluent in both German and Czech. I speak Czech frequently, but I rarely use German these days. When speaking German to someone, a sentence might come out like:

“Ich habe eine Katze, ale keinen Hund.”

Most of this sentence is in German. However, the “little” connecting word (ale = but) is in Czech: “I have a cat (but) not a dog.” The correct word in German is “aber” - and that makes it all the more likely to use the wrong word, because they are very similar. If I make a mistake like this, I realize immediately that I’ve used the wrong word and correct myself. Similarly, German words might come to mind more slowly if I’ve been using mostly Czech for a while, and the Czech words might enter my mind instead, but I recognize them as Czech and don’t use them.

It is also possible for someone to make a mistake and use the wrong word in a language if they simply haven’t learned that word correctly, or think it’s the same between two languages but isn’t. And in writing, it’s possible for words which are similar between languages to be accidentally misspelled, using the wrong language’s spelling. Still, this is usually not overly common.

What doesn’t ever happen in real life is someone speaking one language then suddenly switching to another language for a while without realizing it. It just doesn’t happen. Characters on television shows or in films are sometimes shown to randomly pepper their (usually English) speech with words or phrases or sentences from another language (usually their native language), especially when emotional. This is not realistic and really doesn’t happen, at least not by accident. If I switch to English during a conversation in German or Czech, it’s intentional - either I’m speaking to people who are fluent in English and want to express something better expressed in English than the other language, or they don’t speak English and I want to say something without them understanding. This would feel very uncomfortable for me though - it’s quite rude to suddenly use a language you know someone doesn’t understand, and most people wouldn’t do it.

Eliza: I like her! The only thing I’m unsure about is the speech patterns, but I’d need to see an example to know precisely what you mean. Certainly the rest of it looks good to me, and I like the specific detail about the 2% milk. :)

Steph: Again, looks pretty good overall. The only thing I’m unsure about is how you say she eventually finds the flow of the conversation. This is not necessarily impossible, but feels odd to me - how would she “find the flow”? Autistic people generally aren’t able to just “go with the flow” or pick up on all that nonverbal communication allistics are so keen on. We typically develop “social skills” by finding and mimicking patterns and developing scripts which work in most situations. I’m having trouble imagining how she would “find the flow”. I’m not necessarily saying it’s impossible, just that without very specific feedback from the people she’s talking to, it’s hard to see her starting a conversation awkwardly then sort of “magically” adjusting to it.

Also, on the word extroverted: this is a commonly misunderstood and misused word. An extrovert is someone who derives energy from spending time with and interacting with other people. An introvert is someone who needs to be alone to recharge their energy. An extrovert can be very shy, and an introvert can be very outgoing - it’s to do with how they recharge, rather than how they behave around others. So Steph may be an extrovert and need to spend time with other people to get energy, or she may be a social introvert who is very outgoing but needs time alone to recharge.

Lauren: Most of this also looks good. A note on the wording though: being sensitive to something isn’t necessarily the same as being bothered by it. (For example, think of the most sensitive parts of your body - not necessarily unpleasant parts to be touched!) Sensitivity can be positive or negative. When you say she has no vestibular sensitivity but enjoys moving fast and being bounced around, I’d say she probably is sensitive to movement (otherwise she wouldn’t get any joy from it), just that it doesn’t bother her. She may be vestibularly understimulated and crave movement all the time. However, it’s fine that she’s not bothered by all this type of movement. She may be hyposensitive.

I hope this is helpful feedback for you. Best of luck with your badass ladies - I’d love to read this story! :D

-Mod Aira

A note about Eliza : generally speaking, when you really enjoy a sensory stimuli and crave it, it is because you are undersensitive to it and need more input, not because you are hypersensitive. Adding a stimulation you’re hypersensitive to is generally painful (because you have some kind of “maximum threshold” that is met very quickly when you’re hypersensitive), though it is better when you can control it yourself and decide exactly how you are exposed to it.

-Mod Cat

#ask #mod aira #characters #submission #mod cat

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