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roseabelle21 · 4 years ago

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Synopsis: Every anniversary spent with your partner are always unpredictable, joyous, and exciting. You never know what a certain blond has planned every year for your special occasion. And after five years of being together, this might be the best one yet.

Pairing: Pro Hero! Bakugou Katsuki x Fem! Reader

Status: Unedited

Genre: Fluff🐰🐇🐰

Tagging: @jazzylove @babymilkawa @cloudsinthecosmos @withlovefromjo @unicornlover25

The ambience of the local cafe never fails to soothe your nerves. The work of a Hero is neverending. After all, no one can tell when a villain might show up and cause destruction. The Hero business is relentless; they will call you up when the job becomes too much for your sidekicks, even on your days off. Of course, you know what you are getting into the moment U.A reached out to you for recommendation trials, and peoples lives are at stake, it was understandable.

The sidekicks are still learning though that doesn't mean that they are not progressing, being the most experienced in the field, they still need your help. You love helping people, don't get it wrong, their smiles and relief noticeable in their faces and posture, the ease they felt when you show up because they knew you are capable of taking that villain down, is enough to make it all worth it. But the reports you have to type up after the fight is less than exciting. Sure you have someone who can do it for you, but that damned Hero Commission wants it to come from you.

So no matter how little time you get to relax, you take advantage of that. Now, here you are, catching up with your best friend since birth in this small, homey cafe. It's rare to have the same day off with someone from class, when you found out that Momo also has her day off today, both of you immediately agreed to meet up. Both of the women practically running up to each other the moment you caught sight on the other side of the road. Wrapping your arms around each other in a tight, and overdue hug, almost squealing in public.

The giddiness from your bodies did not stop even after 30 minutes later, laughing and telling stories from your work and personal life. Even though you already know from your weekly - if not nightly - calls from each other. Bakugou once jokingly said you and Momo act more like in a relationship rather than the both of you do. To tease him back, you wondered out loud if both of you are, you would already be married. Let's say he did not like that one bit, informing the office the next day that you are sick, unable to move your legs and sore body. Fucker just gave you a smug look before leaving to work, Bakugou did cook you breakfast though.

Speaking of him, "Hey- Uhm, I have something to tell you."

Momo looked at you through the top of her mug and gave you a nod. She grew concerned when you bit your lip and traced the rim of your glass with a finger, "what's wrong?"

"It's silly," you chuckled. Nervous to tell the truth, but you knew you had to take this feeling off of you, and there is no one better to tell your problems to other than your ride or die.

"Is it about Bakugou?" she took your hand and intertwined your fingers together, rubbing her thumb along the back of your hand.

You nodded, "it's just that we haven't spent time with each other as much as we want to. We always find time to eat together, breakfast, lunch, and dinner if one of us is not asleep. We always find time for each other. Now," you gulped. "Now, that rarely happens."

Momo listened to your story silently, smiling softly when your eyes met. "It's not silly (N/n) you miss him. And that is normal for couples, have you talked to him about this?”

"No," you shook your head, embarrassed, "I can never find the right time to swoop it in."

She hummed, tapping her chin in thought. You swear you can see her eyes lit up for a split second before it disappeared. Maybe it was just the trick of the afternoon light, so you shake it off.

"I won't be too worried about him cheating on you if that's what you are implying," your eyes immediately widened and hastily shook your head. Embarrassed flushing red on your face as you frantically waved you hands in denial, "n-no! It's not like that!"

Momo giggled and motioned you to calm down. She's only teasing, no one in class - and the whole world - will question the blond's loyalty towards you.

He won't even spare a second glance at any girls who are throwing themselves at him. That was proven when someone tried to flirt with him at a class field trip during your third year of U.A. Bakugou and you only being in a relationship for less than three months, the blond shut her down rather harshly. You almost feel bad, had you not been telling her he had a girlfriend for 10 minutes straight.

You laughed in your head evilly at her tears.

Do you give a fuck? No not one.

How many fucks do you give? Zero.

Were you mean for thinking that? Absolutely.

Do you regret the minuscule smirk of victory forming on your lips once she ran off, crying? Nope. She had it coming.

"Then there is absolutely nothing to be afraid of," she cooed. "You and Bakugou-san have been inseparable ever since your accidental confession," you groaned, embarrassed. "Maybe he's just busy on a mission? You know how obsessed he is with becoming the number one hero. And now that he's so close to achieving it, he might be losing time for you, but that doesn't mean he loves you any less."

A small smile graced your lips at her, thankful to have Momo as your friend to confide in everything. She was and will always be your safe person, other than Katsuki.

After going through that enemies-to-lovers arc? Did she think that Bakugou would easily sway to another person's pursuit of him? Nah, both of you fought for the other to give that up easily (either together or against each other).

"Make sure to tell him what you feel in all of this. Communication is the most important quality in a relationship." Momo reminded with a stern yet soft voice with a wag of her finger, which caused you to giggle.

"Thanks, Momo," the ebony-haired girl only responded with a grin. Her eyes sparkled, excited about what's to come in the next couple of months.

~*~*~*~*

Right now, you felt like the worst person on the planet. With only three days away until the five-year-anniversary with the love of your life, finding the perfect present is almost impossible. Curse you and your perfectionism!

Not only that but the last couple of weeks had been hectic. You think your manager and agency is purposefully doing this to make you suffer. Villains attacking were the farthest reason for your stress, surprisingly. Sure there are petty crimes here and there, nothing your sidekicks couldn't handle, but the media stuff are the ones weighing you down. You grew accustomed to taking a quick shower, at times, dinner with the blond before crashing down on the bed passed out.

Commercials, photoshoots, travelling, sponsor partnerships here and there, it was almost as if you were back in rising to fame. It was exhausting and frustrating at the same time. You can never seem to find a break anymore. The only time you can rest are lunches with Katsuki and coming home late at night, sleeping.

However, both of you made the most out of it after your lunch with Momo a few months ago. You took her advice and told Katsuki how you felt. No surprises, he understands how you felt, gave you a tight hug and explained everything.

Sadly, he can't tell you the mission. It was confidential. Only the higher up's and the rest of his teammates knows it. You understand it's part of the job at the end of the day. And to keep you from worrying too much even though you know he's capable of taking care of himself out in the field.

Both of you miss each other, and with breakfast and lunch is the only reason you get to see your partner, it was slowly becoming regular to you, much to your dismay. "A small price to pay for becoming a Hero" is what your manager would say.

Waking up in the morning to either you or Katsuki making breakfast, taking turns to visit each other at their agency to bring lunch despite the limited time, it was more than enough.

Being in the mere presence of the other is more than enough.

"(Y/N)! Five minutes left till you have to go!"

The voice of your manager snapped you out of your trance. Turning your gaze from your phone screen to their place in the doorway, clipboard in their grasp, hair messy and dark bags forming under their eyes.

A small, sorry smile formed on my lips. Well, at least they're not the only ones.

"You know, both of us would look much, much better if you reject a sponsorship or two." you teased, walking up to them and patting their shoulder as you walked past them.

They smiled sarcastically in retort.

"I wouldn't have too if not for getting a raise," they mumbled under their breath. Tiredly rubbing their face, reminding themselves to suck it up, only three more days, these will all be over. A raise and a week vacation promised, the ones to look forward too.

"Ah, shit! Almost forgot," they pulled out their phone and typed in another errand.

Accompany (Y/N) today, tomorrow, and the next day to find a gift.

~*~*~*~

You found it, the perfect gift to give your explosive man.

You clapped your hands excitedly, placing the carefully wrapped box on the nightstand atop your beloved night book, away from the possible dangers of the world.

Sighing peacefully, a flopped down your shared bed. Curling up the warm blankets and cuddling with Katsuki's pillow, enjoying the peaceful afternoon day.

Finally, a day off.

The day of your anniversary.

This day would have been perfect if your other half was here, you know, spending the rest of your day off together. Waking up with his arms wrapped around you, cooking breakfast with his arms still around you, even walking around with his arms around you.

However, you can't find it annoying. After months of being apart, that was the most and longest physical touch you both have experienced.

Unfortunately, the office called him for an emergency. The phone call was urgent. Katsuki furrowed his brows in annoyance and concern as he listens to his sidekick give him the information. To put the cherry on top, he only answered calmy. That's how you know it was severe; they need desperately need Dynamight in action.

Katsuki was reluctant to leave, telling you he's already been away from you for too long. His eyes screamed for forgiveness, hesitant, and something else you can't quite place.

You pushed him to get dressed, told him if he can finish the mission early, the earlier you can spend the rest of the day together. The fire in his eyes sparkled brighter than ever, accompanied by his menacing grin, accepting the challenge of beating the damned villain who ruined his day faster than they can blink.

He pulled you in for a deep kiss before heading out the door, running back for a quick kiss before finally leaving. A giddy giggle erupted from you at his actions, watching him ride away with his motorcycle.

With nothing else better to do, you decided that a quick nap wouldn't hurt anybody. You know that Katsuki will be back soon, safe and sound. He's come so far, and stopping him right now when he's so close to achieving his dream would be an insult. You have so much faith in him, one of the many reasons he loves about you.

You were ready to drift off into dreamland; had it not been for the insistent and rapid knocking suddenly coming from the front door. Groaning, you muffled your scream in your pillow, wanting to cry from annoyance and stress.

Only one person could be doing that. With their strong voice chanting your name over and over again at the same rhythm as the door knocking, your manager must have something important to tell you.

Their bright smile greeted you when you opened the door, in contrast to the annoyed and tired look you gave them. Telling you what is needed to be said, you dramatically collapsed, landing on their chest. Another commercial to shoot!

"Don't you know what today is?!" You questioned dramatically, flailing your arms around to exaggerate your point.

They smiled apologetically at you, rubbing your back for comfort. "Believe me; you're not the only one dying to sleep right now."

You pouted at them, tiredly rubbing your eyes to chase the sleepiness away.

"Don't worry (Y/N)! It will be the last one for a long time! I've made sure to give us both a break for the next couple of months to give you time to discuss something important with Katsuki!"

You tilted your head, confused at their cherry voice and excited smile despite the darkness under their eyes.

"What-?"

"Let's go! No need to change, costume and your hair and make-up team is already waiting for you, no script needed since you only have to be there, answering the question naturally. And then -"

They continued babbling about what to do the moment you got in the car and towards your destination. As you drive for almost an hour, you noticed the changes in scenery. Gone are the tall skyscrapers and bright lights of the city, now slowly replaced by luscious green grass fields, strong thick trees and clear blue sky that you rarely see nowadays.

It was satisfying, seeing the wonders of nature even in it's simplest forms. You sighed, feeling at ease compared to earlier this morning, wishing that Katsuki was here to enjoy this with you. A nice picnic here or at the park will be enough.

You noticed a large, white tent approaching your view when the car started to slow down. To your surprise, Momo and Mina were there, waving at you excitedly, with bright grins adorning their faces.

"I forgot to mention," your manager started, stopping the car. "A few of your friends will be joining you in this."

You nodded, getting out of the car, wishing you could have changed into something decent other than your sweatpants and Katsuki's shirt.

The girls were immediately shoving you eagerly towards the tent, noticing that they are already dressed and ready for the shoot.

"I'm so excited for this shoot!" Exclaimed Mina excitedly, bouncing up and down carefully as to not ruin her hair. Incoherable noises left her lips as she continued guiding you.

The dark-haired girl beside you, although much more calm and collected, couldn't stop the giggles, holding your hand firmly as they opened the flap of the tent.

A surprised smile painted on your lips when the rest of the girls in your class greeted you.

"(Y/N!)" Ocahako ran to you, giving you a giant bear hug.

"We finally get to be together on a shoot, kero!" Tsuyu added with an excited clap.

"Hurry and get ready!" Hagakure pushed you towards the chair. You would have tripped on the way there had it not been for Jiro holding you by the shoulder.

You let it slide with a happy chuckle. It was almost impossible to get all of the girls together for anything. If they try to plan anything together, one of them will always be busy or on patrol that day.

It was nice being together once again, as in the good old days. Everyone was already ready and dressed in their complementary colours, you noticed. They chatted with you as you get your make up ready, some going out and coming back in for picture taking outside.

Again, you can't help but feel sad that Katsuki is not with you. These would have been perfect if he was beside you. No matter, you told yourself, I'll be with him after this.

"Whoa, (Y/N)," the girls cooed at you simultaneously when you got done. Looking you through the mirror with soft smiles and - were those tears welling up in some of them? To say you are confused will be an understatement. This is not the first time they've seen you glammed up.

"Are you all okay? What's the matter?"

They only smiled at you, dabbing the corners of their eyes to prevent tears from further falling.

"Whooo, enough of this," Mia sighed, fanning her eyes whilst looking up. "Get dressed honey, your dress is already there."

When you entered the dressing room, a beautiful white knee-length cocktail dress greeted you placed on the mannequin. It was off the shoulder with sheer sleeves designed in flowers and a flowy skirt. When you touched the material, you are shocked that it was silk.

Now, you are beyond confused and highly impressed. Then you wondered, what kind of commercial are you making? The company must be loaded to get all the well-known woman Pro Heroes together for this one shoot.

Your brows furrowed in thought but ended up letting it go. Slipping on your dress which hugged your figure perfectly, doing a little twirl to watch the dress flow. You are feeling yourself in this dress.

Once you exited the dressing room, you were surprised when you recognised one of your classmates in dance class there, wearing a bright costume along with the other dancers. They grabbed your hands and guided you to the centre; the music suddenly blasted from somewhere and danced around you.

You were beyond confused as you looked around. None of the girls except Momo was in the corner of the room, laughing and taking a video of you. You are so confused.

What is going on?

They prompted you to dance along with them, and you did, albeit softly; the dancers still cheered you on.

You laughed as they twirled you around towards Momo. "Come on," she pulled you out of the tent, dancers continued cheering you on from the inside.

You walked out towards the open field. The trees decorated in pastel shades of your favourite colours, the ground littered with the petals of your favourite flowers, your heart started to beat faster and faster with every step you take.

You swore you felt your heart leap out of your chest when you spotted more of your classmates came into view. A hand covered your mouth in sheer shock, happiness, and confusion.

Tables and chairs surrounded the open clearing. Red linens covered the tables along with silverwares, the surrounding trees decorated in lanterns and ribbons, a buffet filled with your favourite food on the side, a fucking swan ice sculpture beside it, chocolate fountain. But the one that caught your attention the most was the gazebo: built in the middle of a tree with beautiful white leaves at the tip of it.

You didn't know that you are now standing alone at the entrance, still frozen in shock as you looked at everyone with wide eyes.

What the fuck?

Kirishima then approached you with his usual bright smile, although this one might be brighter than the rest. He chuckled softly at your expression before offering you his hand.

"How are you feeling?"

"Like I'm about to faint and vomit at the same time," you answered shakily with a laugh. "What the heck is happening, Kirishima?"

"Well," he shrugged his shoulders, "why don't you ask the planner of this event?"

The pounding of your heart reached your ears, your face glowing bright red, as he led you towards the gazebo tree; only then did you see a single stool in the middle.

"Wait, the fuck?" You questioned a bit loudly. The rest of the crowd only laughed at your nervousness.

When you sat down, the table to your right; seated two crucial people in your life; your parents. They are smiling at you, tears running down your mother's eyes with your father's arm draped over her shoulder, both of them wearing white clothing like yours.

You mouthed a 'what are you doing here?' with a teary smile. Your father responded with a shrug of his shoulders. Your eyebrows flew when you saw the couple beside them: Mitsuki and Masaru Bakugou, both reacting the same as your parents.

The sound of a microphone caught everyone's attention. Aizawa came into your peripheral vision on the left, wearing his usual black colours. He is nicely clean today; his hair tied away from his face; it looks like he shaved as well. The most surprising of all was the small smile he wore.

What is going on?

Your mind raced at the possibility, a hand resting on your chest as if it can calm your racing heart. It was all too much to take in.

"It's been a while since we're all together," Aizawa started, gaining everyone's attention, soft background music playing in the background.

"I'm not surprised by the length's this man is willing to go; he does want to be the best at everything- which explains everything." Everyone agreed silently. "He will never do anything half-assed."

He then walked up to you with a gentle smile, "now (Y/N), do you know what is happening?"

"No, I don't even know what's happening anymore," you answered shakily. "This is like a joke: Is this a joke?" you joked, albeit shakily.

Aizawa only smiled when you continued, "I'm just waiting for the director to shout 'Cut!' I don't know what to do, am I going dance? Will I start acting? There are camera's here, but they're not giving me instructions."

"You have no idea what's going on?"

"No! I'm already getting scared," you chuckled, voice already starting to reveal that you are about to cry soon. You chose to laugh it off.

"In all honesty, I know that you know and everybody knows and agrees; that you are the most beautiful woman today." You responded with a silent thank you, deeply flattered.

"You know (Y/N), all of this happened because of one person only. Just one person," you swallowed your heart back down, tears starting to escape your eyes as your heart and mind screams of that person's name.

"So don't be surprised; because this is how much he loves you."

Tingles ran down your arms once the background music stopped and Aizawa stepped down. You held your clasped hands in front of you and placed them on your lips, tensing up a little, waiting in anticipation.

"Sir, I'm a bit nervous about being here today."

The world stopped turning when you heard that line. The tears escaped along with a happy sob. The figure of Katsuki Bakugou emerged from behind the tree at the entrance, holding a microphone to his lips. The other hand, resting deep in his pockets.

"Still not real sure what I'm going to say," he walks up to you. Not once tearing his eyes away from yours when he met them. The smile on him was nothing like anyone has ever seen before; nervous, happy, content, love.

"So bear with me, please, if I take up too much of your time."

He was nothing short of perfect. No words could ever describe how beautiful he is right now; of course, he's always beautiful, but now, he is taking your breath away.

It was already rare when you see him not wearing his baggy clothing; it's considered a blessing to see him wear a formal white tux that suits him too well.

When he neared you, he took out a red velvet box in his pocket: gripping on it tightly as he angled it towards you.

"See in this box is the ring for your oldest. She's my everything and all that I know is. It would be such relief if I knew that we were on the same side."

Everyone watched in anticipation as the blond finally reached in front of you, kneeling on one knee as he continued to serenade you.

"Can marry your daughter, and make her my wife. I want her to be the only girl that I'll love for the rest of my life. And give her the best of me 'till the day that I die, yeah."

At this point, you don't care if you look like a mess. The love of your life is looking up at you like you are the most beautiful person he has ever seen; it's probably true.

"I'm gonna marry your princess, and make her my queen. She'll be the most beautiful bride that I've ever seen. I can't wait to smile; as she walks down the aisle; on the arm of her father. Till the day that I marry your daughter."

You told him about your dream proposal; it doesn't have to be anything special as long as the song is there along with your family. And you know Katsuki, you give him an inch, he'll take it to the moon.

Katsuki stared at you with a soft smile, reaching his arms to wipe the tears off of your face. Laughing at his actions, you held on to one of his hands, placing it down on your lap. Both of you took in deep, calming breaths to ease your nerves before smiling at each other again.

"Hi (Y/N)," he called with a soft, shaky tone. A short laugh left you at his adorable nervousness. "Hi, Katsuki."

"You already know what the fuck is going on," the crowd laughed at his bluntness. "I'm not gonna beat around the bushes any longer. I want to make this official."

He opened the velvet box; a gasp left you as you saw the ring inside. A beautiful red ruby gem immediately caught your eyes as it shines in the sun.

A large smile adorned your lips as Katsuki looked at you with a tender expression. Everyone wiping away their tears at the moment before them.

"I'll save all the sappy words at the wedding vows, now, (Y/N)," when his eyes met yours again, you are sure.

"Will you do the honour of making me the happiest man alive by being my wife? Will you marry me?"

Despite the tears falling like a waterfall, your answer was clear and sealed. No matter how many different worlds there might be, how many different lifetimes are there in this universe, nor all the possible scenarios this proposal can take in, you will never get tired of saying the answer over and over again.

"Yes."

One way or another, Katsuki Bakugou and (Y/N) (L/N) will always find a way to be together. Herein is arms and the ring on your finger; all is well and where it should be.

Even though you can't give him his present now, I'm sure the box is still safe and sound on the table.

After all, you are the one carrying the most important gift.

The two strips of pink line on the stick only confirms it.

A/N: This is the longest and hardest story I have ever written for a one shot so far. Wedding?

#bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugou #katsuki bakugou x reader #katsuki x you #bakugou imagine #bnha bakugo katsuki #katsuki bakugou x you #bnha x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugou fluff #fluff #bnha fluff

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whump-town · 4 years ago

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Deaf!Hotch

In AU in which I make Hotch deaf and hope that my research paid off and I do the deaf community right in my writing of Hotch. So, obviously, there’s the disclaimer that I know ASL but I am not deaf

Warning for language

Word Count: 2,902

It was touch and smell that Aaron Hotchner knew first upon awareness. The heavy scent of antiseptic hovering in the air. He frequents the hospital enough to know that the smell will linger on his clothes, skin, and hair for days. A ghost with its fingers dug into his skin. The touch he feels is familiar. Fingers wrapped around his own in a light hold. There’s a light pressure around his bicep and the sting of a needle in his elbow.

It’s with that last thought that it occurs to him that he can’t hear any of the sounds he commonly associated with a hospital. No hiss of the oxygen canal wrapped around the back of his head or beeping machines as they dump the numbing painkillers into his arm.

Just silence.

“Can you hear me?”

Through slivers, Hotch looks up at his old mentor. He can feel Dave squeeze his hand, attempting to ground him through his blinding pain but… he can’t hear Dave. He doesn't hear the older man call his name or shushing him softly when the pain brings him to tears--- his own pain-filled cries falling deaf to his ears.

Mercifully, he falls unconscious once again.

The team comes in a moment later. The easy smiles on their lips falling. Together, they’d managed to shake some of their fear after seeing him collapse in the field. Emily had caved and told them about Hotch’s reaction to being so close to the backhoe. Reid had told them that while he and Hotch had been sharing a hotel room this trip, he hadn’t seen Hotch sleep. Any naps he may have been getting were rudely interrupted by pain or nightmares.

They’d shaken their mixed feelings with the reminder that nothing can keep Aaron Hotchner down. At least… nothing yet.

Knowing what they did, they still had a false sense of hope walking into his hospital room. Expecting their boss to greet them like he always does. Maybe he would let them have their moment. Giving in to the hugs and worried complaints they have but…

He’s curled onto his side, pain etched into the grimace he has even in his sleep, and they can see the drying tears from the door.

“Hey, kiddos.” Dave stands from the only visitor’s chair offered and smiles wearily. “Did you eat something?”

A nurse steps past them and they allow her through without mumbled complaints. She works quickly and they watch with curiosity and fierce protectiveness. When Hotch whimpers as she touches him, Morgan steps forward, stopped only by the hand that JJ grabs him with. He settles back against the wall, shifting nervously until the nurse can give Hotch the painkillers he needs and sends him into a painless, drug-induced slumber.

“He’s not alright,” Morgan mumbles, shaking his head. “What are we going to do?”

Dave shakes his head, rubbing at his goatee. His eyes are glued to Hotch and the nurse, smiling and nodding as she makes her way back out of the room. With the room cleared, he lets his shoulders fall and his resolve crumbles --- for only a moment.

Emily steps closer to the bed. Her arms are wrapped tightly to her chest. She has a complicated relationship with the man in question. A challenging friendship blossoming but… "We'll do what we always do, " she says, steadying herself with a deep breath. "We'll remind him what we're fighting for and we won't let him fall behind."

Dave starts to add on but Hotch shifts on the bed. A soft grunt leaving his mouth as he tenses in pain. He pulls his leg up towards his body, kicking out.

Morgan grows frustrated--- are they not giving him enough painkillers? He shouldn't be in pain.

"Aaron, " Dave calls. He catches Hotch's hand as he raises it to his ear--- the doctor had warned he was only aggravating the eardrum by pressing into it with his palm. "Can you hear me, son?"

Hotch opens his eyes but still tries to weakly pull away.

"Alright, " Dave mumbles, rubbing his shoulder and caving. Giving up on getting an answer. "Easy now." He holds Hotch's hand and steadies him when Hotch's panic-filled eyes find him. "It's alright."

Hotch turns his head away. "No, " he rasps. "No, " his chest heaves as he sobs. Ragged breaths leaving in heart-wrenching wheeze's.

"It's alright, " Dave tries but Hotch vehemently denies it.

With a soft, broken voice Hotch whispers, "I can't hear you, Dave." Tears falling down his face, got stinging tears. "I can't hear."

They should have seen it coming within the weeks leading up to the accident.

New York had left them all shaky but if anything that should have made them more aware of his vulnerability, right?

Hotch had stayed with Dave the weekend following the explosion. Dave had seen Hotch grappling with the pain and the buzzing. He’d forced his old protege to eat whatever meager bites of sandwiches he could manage but he was only drinking enough water to swallow the fistful of pills he’d been given by his doctor.

But Dave isn’t the only one who’d seen.

Derek had driven Hotch home and then to Dave’s. He’d watched as Hotch sat in agony in the front seat. Trembling hands rubbing at his temple or covering his hurt ear but Derek hadn’t stopped. He’d asked if Hotch wanted him to but he knew Hotch would never agree. Not until it was too late and that’s exactly what had happened. Hotch had pushed himself too far and his body had made the decision to stop.

When the Sheriff fired the bullet that finally killed Chloe and ended the horror she brought back to the Angel Maker and his disgusting legacy, Hotch had collapsed.

And now…

“Stop hitting me!” As if losing his hearing wasn’t bad enough--- he’s got to have Emily fucking Prentiss teach him American Sign Language. She’s an awful teacher but he’s learning quickly. As much as he hates it, he’s getting really good at signing.

Within two weeks he’s picked up a strong enough vocabulary that Emily no longer brings a notepad to visit him. It’s a wonder to him how she picks up ASL so easily but he also knows she's a very mysterious woman. He’s probably safer not knowing. Even if he can profile his way into understanding her time spent being thrown about the world in her youth made her adaptable to quick change.

She raises an eyebrow, “sign the word right, and I wouldn’t have to hit you.”

He frowns back at her, “you enjoy it.”

She smirks and he shakes his head. As aggravating as this all can be, he knows it’s brought him closer to his team. To his family.

JJ had taught Jack and Henry some common signs and Jack had taken to them incredibly well. Children, Reid would later tell him, are good at this kind of stuff. Rapid change. Reid… not so much. The best part of his week is their updates. Each one taking the time to come to his apartment and show him what they’ve learned this week.

They’re trying. They care.

But they’re all terrified for his return to duty.

The Bureau is always working against Hotch and the very idea of what losing this job will do to him--- the thought is sickening. And to lose it over something as silly as an accident? Over something that he can’t control? Especially, when he’s fought to learn ASL and to use the hearing aids that don’t help but are necessary for his return… It’s not fair.

If he can come back, if the Bureau sticks to their vow of inclusivity, then he can suck up dealing with the hearing aids.

“Are you alright?”

He hasn’t been cleared to drive yet. Hearing isn’t the issue. In fact, deaf drivers have a great reputation. Emily’s been steadily supplying him with books on deaf culture and even a program in Georgetown for deaf people in the community. The tinnitus is holding him back from driving. The hearing aids help with the buzzing of the tinnitus but they don’t improve his hearing quality enough to really matter. Which is fine, Emily doesn’t mind carpooling.

“No.” He rubs just under his right ear, breathing through the wave of pain. It’s a bad day and hearing aids or not, his hearing is at nearly zero and his pain intense. “Hurts.” The Bureau has decided he needs the hearing aids for his return. They improve his hearing by a fraction but he’s not going to put up a fight if they help the tinnitus. The problem is, if he does leave them in for too long he gets a headache.

It doesn’t get better as the day progresses...

His stomach lurches dangerously. Standing on shaky legs, he makes a jerky but quick pace out his office door. He can’t get any further than the stairs at the catwalk. It’s a stumbling crash that he can’t hear as his body hits the metal. He feels the cold bar pressing against his temple. Closing his eyes, he pulls in a deep breath and waits for the relief. Prays for the ringing and pain to settle with the soft, muffled pace of the bullpen. With sound other than the keys of his laptop and emails chiming.

Lavender-- Emily. The soft scent of her customary perfume is the first thing to greet him. She must be hovering in front of him, deciding whether or not he’s better left alone. Giving him a chance to collect himself for a moment before pressing on.

A hand squeezes his shoulder and he peels his left eye open, leveling it on her. He knows it’s bloodshot and surrounded by the heavy bags that are cemented proof of the fact that he hasn’t slept well in days. He also knows, she’s not here to judge him.

Standing at the bottom of the stairs, crouched right in front of him she signs the word help. He’s likely to never tell her but this is what he appreciates most about her. He’s in pain and she’s not going to waste her time if he doesn’t want her near him. He does want her near but… he doesn’t know how to say that.

He can feel the catwalk shake as someone steps out, heavy, solid steps coming his way. The low vibrations of a voice--Dave-- says something but he can’t hear it as he presses his head harder into the bars and digs his palms into his aching ears. A hand is placed between his shoulder blades and Dave sits down beside him-- the familiar scent of cigars and books washing over them.

Dave.

A hand comes between them and cups his jaw, tilting Hotch’s head away from where he’s painfully pressing it into the bar. “Hurts,” he feels his mouth form the words. He can feel his vocal cords moving but he can’t be certain he’s made a tangible sound.

“One to ten,” Dave asks and Hotch is thankful the older man is much better at sign language than Reid because he can’t focus on his lips. Even if he were good at lip-reading, he’s not sure he could manage right now.

He holds up a shaky hand-- six.

“Liar,” Emily says as she comes to squat down next to them. He hadn’t even noticed her leave. She’s got a cold press of paper towels and presses it to the back of his neck. It does wonders for his stomach but nothing for his pounding head.

Derek offers a water bottle with a straw wordlessly as he passes with a cup of coffee.

It takes ten minutes for the ringing to start to die down. The pain doesn’t go anywhere but he can hear the faintest mumbling coming from Morgan and Reid’s rowdy conversation. It doesn’t matter how many times his ears flare up like this, each time he’s waiting for the noises to never come back.

He knows that one day the world will fall completely silent. He’ll never hear Jack’s voice or the deep rumble of the team all trying to talk over one another. The progression of the loss of his hearing is slow but even with hearing aids now, he can’t make out the distinct sounds of words when someone is talking directly beside him.

To the team's credit, he seems to be the only person bothered by this.

“It’s only a two-hour drive,” Reid observes with a smile. “We can drive!”

One of the preventive measures for his hearing that the team had taken is cutting back on the use of the jet. If it’s not enough watching Hotch suffer through the buzzing amplifying each time they take off, then for the ecosystem (Garcia had sent a very lengthy and inclusive PowerPoint and email into the director to persuade him using the SUVs would be helpful in many ways). He’d agreed to fend off any more of her emails.

The downside is they always have to stop for snacks.

“He’s a grown man,” Hotch signs down the aisle from Dave and Emily. “He should know PopTarts are not a meal.” Reid is, what, nearly thirty years old now and Hotch is still watching that kid eat these overly-sugared, processed things every day. It worries him. What does Reid eat when Hotch isn’t around to cut him off?

Emily holds up a power bar and the red Gatorade Morgan had requested, “do you remember if JJ said she wanted chocolate milk or not?”

“No,” Hotch says from behind the shelf he’s scanning. “She wanted a Snapple.” He points her over the refrigerator he’d just come from. He would have gotten the Snapple if he’d been thinking about it. “What are you getting,” he asks, unsure of what he wants for himself.

“Hey,” Dave has to shout to get Emily’s attention and she points over Hotch’s shoulder to Dave. Hotch turns, eyebrows furrowed. With both of them looking Dave motions that he’s heading back to the car. “I will leave you,” he threatens, stepping out.

“No, he won’t.” They both agree.

They agree to split a bag of trail mix--- intends to pick out the pretzels and he knows she’ll eat the M&Ms out. It’s this intimate knowledge of his team that makes up for their shaky ability to sign. He’s not actually that good at lip-reading but he knows them and that covers his ass pretty well.

That and JJ has gotten really good at jotting what she wants to say rather than struggling to understand and use sign language. He appreciates it--- she’s really bad. It doesn't help that Emily is way nicer to JJ when she teaches her signs than she was with him.

When she takes her time, though--- when they have the time--- it’s all good.

Morgan is surprisingly good at ASL. He didn’t just take to it like Emily but he didn’t blink. It brings them closer together. Sign language is also insanely helpful in the field. Even if Hotch can’t join them in the field. Running point means that Morgan and Hotch have to work closely. The shift in power between the field and the precinct is barely discernible.

He enjoys talking to Garcia the most.

She’s quick to adapt to slang. He has no idea where she’s getting these words from (she made internet friends so she could immerse herself better and support him). She also carries her very unique way of speaking and being into her signing and he really enjoys that. Even when it confuses him.

It takes some getting used to for all of them.

Lots of flashing alarm clocks and Garcia showing Hotch there’s a program on his phone to make his phone flash when he gets a message. They all have things they learn to adjust. It’s safer to stand to Hotch’s left, it’s his better ear. Before talking, they have to actually make sure he’s paying attention. JJ signs as she gives her messages to the media that way he can keep up. They remind him to take the hearing aids out before he gets headaches and offer advil when he forgets.

Slow and steady and, to them, it’s no different than the ways he looks out for them. Because he’s still the same hard ass who work long hours and doesn’t sleep enough.

Jack takes is way easier than all of them. The kid doesn’t even stumble.

There’s a sing for chicken nuggets and Hotch didn’t even know that until one day Jack out right refused to just verbally speak. Of course, he’d heard Aunt Emily and Hotch arguing about Hotch’s reliance on what’s left of his hearing. Siding with his aunt, as he has the aggravating tendency to do, he’d decided the only way for himself and good old dad to communicate was sign language.

Later, he’ll use the story of his father’s accident on a college application. They’ll tear up a little as they proof read it. Jack might have been young when it happened but he saw the way his family shifted. He learned a valuable skill, ASL, and he also learned a very important lesson about family.

Family adapts for those they love.

And that’s what they’d done. When it would have been easier to let him go, they fought, because that’s what family is supposed to do.

Shout out to @softcabrera for looking over this!!

#criminal minds #criminal minds headcanons #criminal minds fanfiction #aaron hotchner #deaf!hotch #hearing loss #deaf #hearing aids #emily prentiss #david rossi #derek morgan #spencer reid #jennifer jareau #jennifer jareua #penelope garcia #jack hotchner #bau #they're a family

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believe-that-you-can-my-friend · 4 years ago

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Elisabeth & Noah in the origin world (2/?)

First date

He is not sure if he should text her or not.

On Monday, upon waking up with every ounce of alcohol finally off his bloodstream and after he has spent the entire Sunday recovering from the worst hangover he’s experienced since his college years, Noah is back on his reserved nature, the timid one, the one lacking the amount of whiskey-infused courage it takes for him to deal with matters revolving around human interaction, especially with women. He’s not a social outcast per se, but his confidence mostly accompanies him in the career-oriented side of his life.

It’s not like he’s not interested. He crossed the line of “interested” when he stooped to the lowest level possible, looking her up on Instagram, of all things, via Agnes’ account.

(His little sister has a long list of questions and he has a long list of brotherly favors that he promised to fulfill in exchange for her seven-digit password.)

She doesn’t have a vast presence on social media, a quality they apparently share. He keeps a long forgotten Facebook account and a professional LinkedIn one and acts blissfully ignorant towards any other platform that isn’t YouTube. Her Facebook account - oh yeah, he checked that one too - is a mix between personal and business, opinion posts about socio-politcal matters on the grounds of their country to the entirety of Europe to the endlessness of the globe and take-action events in regard to the causes she supports, occasionally interrupted by a reunion selfie with an old friend or a brunch date with her mom and her sister. That particular post redirected to some Instagram link, so, unwittingly, his curiosity was peaked.

Her Instagram account is colourful, vivid, filled with adventures and laughter. Just from an idle scroll, Elisabeth Doppler - Winden born, age twenty-four, Energy Engineer, Berlin based - can easily be perceived as someone that quite enjoys life. Her group of associates and friends seems endless and her gallery consists of photos of dinners with young professionals, pub-crawling with girlfriends, road tripping across Europe, Erasmus Programme memories, tree-planting projects, women’s rights marches, snorkelling, paragliding. Noah spends the whole Sunday afternoon feeling overwhelmed and in awe, tapping picture after picture, mesmerized by her lovely smile that adds a softer undertone to her busy bee of a life.

He finds it fascinating, her mindset and her lifestyle, but, at the same time, he fears that their personalities may clash, his more keeping-to-himself attitude the polar opposite to her seemingly outgoing one. Then, it’s also the age barrier. He thinks that thirty-two might be a little off-putting for someone in their early twenties, a decade that comes with a whole other set of expectations and milestones than the one he is currently in. The major problem, though - a chronic problem of his - is that he’s thinking too much.

Fortunately, that’s not a thing they have in common.

Elisabeth texts him on Monday morning, at 9.54 to be exact. He’s in the middle of a lecture, teaching History of Religion 101 to an auditorium filled with sleepy freshmen, when his phone screen lights up, its glow illuminating in the dimly lit room. It’s a simple “good morning” paired up with a smiling face emoji but it’s enough to cause his heart to race and his mind to short-circuit, leaving him reciting things off the projection screen without really registering what comes out of his mouth until the lesson is over. With sweaty hands and in the mist of internal panic laced with excitement, he texts her back at 10.38 an equally casual “hey, hope you’re having a good morning, too”. He beats himself up for not asking her anything the minute he presses send, like, how she’s doing, if she’s at work - literally anything, Noah, Jesus Christ, now she’ll think that you don’t care, nice work, you idiot - especially as the hours pass and there’s silence from her end. He spends the rest of the day drowning in miserable self-pity, checking his dead phone literally every minute, until there’s a new message from her, telling him that she had a very busy day at work and asking him how his day was.

(Thank God, because he was about to send her an embarrassing word vomit apologizing for having zero social skills whatsoever.)

They continue their back and forth texting for the rest of the week, casual conversations about their everyday lives turning into debates about the best places to eat and the best movies of all time to metaphysics and social justice that keep them up till the small hours of morning, Elisabeth sending him blowing-a-kiss face emoji’s for goodnight and Noah smiling like a silly teenager at his phone screen. Right in the middle of one of their more “serious” conversations, Elisabeth venting about income-based discrimination, Noah asks her out. It’s abrupt and totally irrelevant to the context of the rest of the bubbles that litter their personal chat at that moment but he can’t really help himself. She is a woman he wants - needs - to know more about, not through a screen, but in person, sit there and watch her express all the things she has in her brilliant mind.

They arrange to meet on Friday night, after she finishes work, since Noah has to attend a seminar in Dresden on the weekend and since both of them are too impatient to wait any longer. Noah arrives first at the bar she gave him directions to and decides on waiting for her outside but decides against smoking a cigarette, even though he’s itching to, out of habit and nerves. She rounds the corner barely five minutes later, strutting towards him in an electric blue pantsuit and a plaid maxi grey coat, her whole face brightening with a stunning smile when she notices him, and, just like that, everything else fades, his anxiety about their first official date, his mental fatigue after holding office hours, his insecurities, his worries and she is the only thing that exists, the only thing that matters.

A wave of panic washes over him momentarily, his inner perfectionist making a huge deal out of not having a clear plan of how to greet her. A handshake is too impersonal, a kiss too presumptuous. Ultimately, he attempts an awkward, one-arm kinda hug - which is ridiculous because a) he’s a freaking grown-up and b) her tongue has already been inside his mouth and he doesn’t recall his hands being particularly respectful the night of Jonas’ wedding, when she pushed him against a wall and stole his breath with a glorious kiss - an action she probably misconstrues as a leaning in and this results in them doing a clumsy dance right there on the pavement, but she giggles and her eyes shine with amusement, so his self-deprecating frown gives its place to a handsome smirk, when she moves closer to him and leaves a soft peck on his cheek, as a belated greeting. She smells of sensuous jasmine and intoxicating amber, her perfume aery but with a spicy twist that succeeds in stimulating all of his senses. He holds the door for her to enter and his hand lingers lightly on the small of her waist, as they make their way through the tables to the bar.

They settle on two empty barstools and order their signature drinks, Gin and Tonic and Whiskey on the Rocks. Elisabeth takes her phone out of her tote bag but before she gets to type anything, Noah holds her attention. He thinks for a moment and then makes his hands move, forming tentative gestures that lack any grace or flow but succeed in signing “It’s nice to see you. How have you been?”.

Elisabeth beams, impressed, her lips mouthing an excited “how?”. He just shrugs and shyly pulls out of his messenger bag a thick sign language book, a recent purchase of his which he’s been studying with every chance he got. Her whole face softens, touched by his sweet gesture, before she types on her phone.

That’s very thoughtful of you, thank you. Even though you shouldn’t have; apart from technology’s assistance, I’m pretty good at reading lips.

He uses his phone to reply. Yeah, I gathered that much. I just want to talk to you in your language.

The look that she gives him under her fluttering eyelashes is so tender and lovely that he can’t help but stare, a foolish grin plastered on his lips and a hot blush painted on his neck, creeping from the collar of his grey shirt.

They talk - type, to be exact, with the occasional mimic of a word or two - about everything and nothing, fast thumbs trying to keep up with their effortless conversation on the notifications’ section of their phones. He learns about her childhood in Winden, her hellish pranks to her older sister Franziska, her loving parents that separated when she was a preteen but never stopped caring about each other or being there for their daughters. She talks about her hometown friends and her honor roll high school experience, moving to Berlin to attend university and falling in love with the lively vibe of the city, getting her Master’s in Energy Engineering and recently landing her first job on the field at the Tiedemann Enterprises, a very prestige corporation in the industry of renewable energy. She’s still particularly excited about this, being part of a team of researchers thriving to improve energy efficiency based on an environmental friendly strategy.

Noah tells her about his memories as a young boy in Vechta, how he lost his mother when he was only six, due to complications while giving birth to his sister, how his father was never really in the picture after that tragic incident. How the local church and especially Sic Mundus, a church based organization for neglected children and troubled teens, contributed to his and Agnes’ well-being and education, helping him land a university scholarship and get a job, so he could afford moving his sister to Berlin, too, after he got his bachelor degree, and offering her a more stable living situation and a normal life. How, apparently, his aptitude for the humanities and his upbringing in a religious environment drove him to follow an academic career in religious studies, a field that he finds beyond interesting, especially its anthropology aspect.

Somewhere along the conversation, too absorbed into their own little world to register the fewer people in the bar and the clock ticking towards closing time, his hand, as if it has a mind of its own, slides slowly over the wooden top of the bar, her slender fingers meeting his hesitant approach halfway. They’re barely touching but it’s electrifying, the feeling of even an inch of his skin against her skin so exhilarating and powerful, like the impact of meteors colliding or the universe exploding into pieces. It feels like a Déjà vu, like a glitch in the Matrix, like they know each other from the past or recognize each other from their future. It’s a feeling both of them kept seeking, a feeling that they silently vow never to lose.

Noah pays for the drinks, despite her objections, and Elisabeth insists that, next time, the bill is on her. He smirks, a tad tipsy on the whiskey, a lot tipsy on her, and teases her that he must have done something right, because this is the first time a girl agrees on a second date with him this fast. She just shrugs, a cheeky smirk playing on her lip-glossed lips, as she types, if I left it up to you, we’d still be on the PG-13 “good morning” texts. He laughs, an effortless, loud laugh and he catches her staring - no, not staring, checking him out - the corner of her longing smile trapped between her teeth. He fights the insane urge to kiss her senseless right here in this empty bar with the bartender mentally plotting their death for keeping him past his shift.

He accompanies her to the U-Bahn station and his heart skips a heartbeat at the prospect of sharing ten more minutes with her, according to the information display over their heads. She wishes him to have fun in Dresden and he confesses that he wishes he could stay here, to spend the weekend with you, he wants to add but refrains, in fear of confessing too much too fast. Instead, he tells her that he had an amazing night and he’s so relieved and purely happy when she nods vigorously in agreement, her low ponytail bobbing lightly and her beautiful face radiating even under the harsh fluorescent light of the station. The atmosphere around them is suddenly very charged, their bodies gravitating towards each other, and their eyes engage in a stare off that speaks volumes and holds so much unresolved tension. He can hear the bright yellow train approaching and his breath quickens as he takes a brave step forward, invades her personal space, and his eyes declare defeat, falling to her lips. He’s the one to kiss her this time, a soft peck that turns into a needy battle of dominance when she melts into his arms and angles her face to kiss him more, deeper, hungry mouths dancing together in passion, his shoulders hunching over her smaller figure, his hands cradling her cheeks. Her own hands sneak under his coat and suit jacket, delivering a heavy caress over the material of his shirt before she closes her arms around his waist, Noah letting a trembling exhale into the kiss and his lips forming a lazy smirk against her giggling ones. Smugly, Elisabeth tugs lightly at his lower lip with her teeth, a naughty essence to the playful action, and this fuels another round of heated kissing, their bodies pushing and pulling, their heavy PDA a thing they’ll be embarrassed for in the morning. For tonight, though, they’re just two people getting drunk on each other in the middle of a train station, as if tomorrow will be the end of world and they’ll cease to exist.

When they pull back for air her lips are lipgloss-free and her eyelids, still closed, are fluttering over scarlet cheekbones. Noah has never witnessed a most beautiful sight in his life.

Elisabeth gets on the train with a dazed and dazzling smile, promising to text him when she arrives at her apartment. They refuse to let go of each other’s eyes until the train vanishes into the dark tunnel and Noah is left there, on the empty station, a finger reaching to his lips, not quite believing that the fruity taste of lipgloss that still lingers in his mouth or the woman whose lips left their trace behind are real and not a product of his wildest fantasies. There’s an extra hop in his steps as he walks up the stairs to catch the train to the opposite direction, boarding the vehicle at the last minute and sliding quickly on a seat, lovesick smile intact and a newfound feeling of contentment and thrill nested in his chest.

He takes his phone out of his pocket and types, unable to wait any longer.

I get back early on Sunday. Would you like to have dinner with me?

#dark netflix #noah x elisabeth #elisabeth x noah #elisabeth doppler #hanno tauber #noah #noah dark #noabeth #noahbeth #this turned out huge #but i have way too many feels to control myself #myedits #ogparadise

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mcousland · 4 years ago

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nobody asked for this at all, the dummies have just become my comfort zone and i love them so a fool filled out a whole meme for them for the fun of it. dietrich belongs to @darlingicarus!

— SHIP QUESTIONS

PRE-RELATIONSHIP —

how did they first meet?

dietrich saved both maeve’s and carden’s lives while he was making a run in the city. saving carden was pure coincidence that came from killing a few of the dead that had been blocking his own path, but maeve was intended as he kept her from meeting a terrible end when one of the dead got hold of her skirt while she tried to run past. as everyone is prone to in those early days—dietrich was fine with protecting maeve and even bringing her back to whatever group there was at the time, but didn’t mind one bit if carden got bit somewhere along the way.

what was their first impression of each other?

maeve thought he was a bit too Blunt about everything that was going on and wished he would stop looking so damned serious all the time, it made her nervous about danger being around every corner and she was already scared enough. she also thought he was a bit handsome underneath that scowl

dietrich had a bit of a hard time seeing her past carden’s [annoyingly] large presence but thought she wasn’t taking things seriously enough, too many witty one-liners and worries about dirtying her hands and clothes. probably worried about the brightness of her clothes attracting too much attention too tbh

did any of their friends or family want them to get together?

family, that’s a good one. ohhhh, i’m sure a few of their friends wanted them to sort things out and just admit to themselves whatever was going on between them, because oh boy did they Ignore a Lot of things for quite a while but a good 80% of the group could spot how close they had grown through all of the things they endured together.

who felt romantic feelings first?

we already know that it was maeve!! we know this, how silly it is to even type it out!!! we know that she woke up one morning after an evening of fwb activities, spent a minute gazing at him while he remained asleep beside her and there was a frightening Oh No realization when she found herself reaching out to touch his cheek without thinking.

did either of them try to resist their feelings?

both of them! big time!! they were fucking terrified. on top of their own already established issues with Feelings, there are the obvious shared fears that come from the world they’re living in. it’s difficult to accept that you’re becoming attached to someone when you know that you could lose them at any moment with so much violence and darkness surrounding you at every turn, especially when you’ve already lost others along the way. (dietrich definitely held out his resistance for longer, though that's a given.)

if you had told one of them that the other would be their soulmate, what would they think?

would depend on the timing, i suppose. early days they’d probably both scoff at the thought, but later on maeve could be convinced. there’s that whole “soulmates can be made” belief and yes it may be cheesy, but maeve’s a romantic at heart and she’d like to think it’s true enough. soulmates are people who understand each other deeply, are connected at the mind, and know without doubt that the other will always be there at their side—consider maeve Convinced.

GENERAL —

who initiated the relationship, and how did it go?

maeve did! technically twice if you count a difference between the beginning of their fwb agreement and then the relationship proper faaaar down the line. i believe the first hook-up came about from maeve making a Very convincing argument for them to find some pleasure and relief from their steadily growing stress while they were away from the group, given that they had become somewhat of a default duo for supply runs and spent so much quality~ alone time together. considering that you could hardcut to five minutes later and find maeve on her knees unbuckling dietrich’s belt, i’d say the proposition went pretty well 😌 the relationship itself came along quite some time down the line, when maeve accidentally slipped up mid-makeout and let the love she has for dietrich Shine through her eyes while looking at him. naturally his instinct was to book it out of there because Feelings Hard, but maeve decided to risk baring her fuckin' heart ((after some months of Pining and a particularly Traumatic series of events that led to them clinging tighter to each other than before)) by asking him simply to "stay" before he could get out the door. arguably that moment was scarier than most of the times they've gone out into the world beyond the safety of their group, but ultimately worth the leap of faith!! because he stayed, and though it was never explicitly stated, they both understood that that night spent together was them putting an end to the fight against the feelings they both knew were there and finally taking the next step in their relationship.

did they have an official first date? if so, what was it like?

they did, but it was purely because maeve labeled it as such and no other reason. a few weeks after their relationship was Confirmed, maeve up and decided that their run into the city would be their first proper Date because they hadn't had some actual alone time in a good while, and it sounded like harmless fun which they didn't get enough of. nothing really Changed from their routine of clearing and scavenging, she just changed up their usual dialogue to asking the "typical date questions. oh, you know! what's your favorite movie? your weirdest fear? the dumbest thing you spent far too much money on?" just a silly excuse to get to know some of the little, random things about each other that popped into their heads or that they'd been curious about for a while.

what was their first kiss like?

tentative and oddly gentle, maeve went for a slow approach in every aspect while testing the waters to see if her last few minutes of attempting to Seduce the bastard into a fwb arrangement had panned out. it was almost Immediately followed up by another kiss and some touching that bordered more along the lines of desperate and eager as they wanted to get to the fun bits, but it was still one of the first notable moments of maeve taking that first step for them and waiting to see if he’d follow suit.

were they each other’s first anything (kiss, relationship, etc.)?

probably first relationship after the world went to shit, but in general nah they’ve both got some prior experiences.

what’s their height difference? age difference?

dietrich’s 5′10″ and maeve’s 5′0″. he’s in his early-to-mid 30s, she’s probably at the end of her 20s?? somewhere around there. who needs solid numbers anyway

what’s their relationship with each other’s families?

😔✌️ new fam found in the group, who dis??

who takes the lead in social situations?

100% maeve baybee. whether she’s talking circles around somebody to keep them distracted, trying to diffuse a situation or just comforting somebody through a difficult moment, we all been knew that maeve’s better suited for almost every kind of social situation. she’ll let him handle any of the ones that rely on intimidation tho, that’s all leitner right there

who gets jealous easier?

ohhhh, that’s another maeve claim. she has Zero reason to worry because dietrich is oblivious to so many attempts at flirtation from others, but it’s still a gut instinct in her to get a little ticked off seeing some rando trying to make moves on him. that’s Her bastard that she spent untold months charming the defenses away from, take a step back and show some respect.

LOVE —

who said “i love you” first?

everybody knows it was maeve, i hardly need to say it. we know she was the one brave enough to say it first, even if it Did take a scare of losing dietrich to tell him. they both already Knew, in that ways of theirs that they have where things are simply Understood between them without having to be mentioned aloud, but she needed him to hear it from her lips at least once. just in case

what are their primary love languages?

i’d say they’re both pretty big on quality time because of them both being naturally inclined to it and how they drifted into becoming partners for supply runs and other action, they spend so much time together it’d be Wild for it not to be their shared #1. not a single doubt in my mind that acts of service is dietrich’s other big one, while maeve’s kinda 50/50 on words of affirmation and physical touch being her runner-up.

how often do they cuddle/engage in PDA?

i’ll out them on main for being cuddlers in bed or just generally when they’re Alone. they’re not very big on PDA as a result of dietrich’s whole “if there’s affection exchanged in public i Will learn how to teleport myself halfway across the planet to escape the embarrassment” deal and maeve respecting that. HOWEVER. it’s still maeve and she sneaks in little things when she can, like hand-holding or winding an arm around his waist while they walk. has been known to sneak in a quick kiss to the cheek if he’s sitting down and she can snatch it while he’s not anticipating it. i think hugs are The Most affection that people would frequently see from them in public ((aside from the soft expressions as they watch each other but those don’t count, don’t @ them about it)). the amount of times people in the group have seen them kiss in public can be counted on Maybe one hand if they’re lucky lmfao they keep that shit locked down

what are their favorite things to do together?

this question deserves to be banned from memes because it immediately erases all creative braincells from your mind. dietrich likes to watch maeve tell stories and she loves to ramble those stories, so that’s a win/win for them. sitting on rooftops to watch the sunrise/sunset together. going out of their way to look through any abandoned antique stores or book shops because they’re both Nerds and willing to put in the work of clearing them out so that they can browse. i imagine their favorite is reading together in some comfortable silence, whether that’s separately or with her curled up into him on a couch so they can read the same book. wait also i think maeve thoroughly enjoys any time they’re on watch together because it gives her the opportunity to freely Tease him (and also Gaze at him while he’s focused on the perimeter but that’s entirely too soft so don’t talk about that)

who’s better at comforting the other?

i don’t think either of them are particularly Better at it than the other?? purely because in the beginning, there’s a balance there between dietrich being reluctant to accept maeve’s comfort when she offers it & her taking a hot minute to understand his attempts at comfort. but then they reach that point where dietrich doesn’t tense up when she pulls him into a hug, and maeve finds the consolation she needs in his quiet assurances. on the surface it’d appear that maeve’s better at comforting dietrich purely because she’s more openly physical with her attempts, but the amount of security and solace that she finds in his words or touch means just as much.

who’s more protective?

dietrich takes it with this one. on top of his already there inclination to protect someone if they manage to get close with him, dietrich’s simply the one with better combat skills. maeve can? kinda?? handle herself, if the danger isn’t too pressing and she can find an opening to take advantage of, and she Does have some very strong protective instincts when it comes to dietrich, but he for sure comes out on top for this one. he has the stronger drive and better skills to back the protectiveness up.

do they prefer verbal or physical affection?

physical for both of them! a lot of their communication lies in the unspoken anyhow, it’s no surprise that most of their affection is expressed physically instead of verbally. dietrich’s preference coming from the fact that he might just actually implode on the spot if maeve showered him in too many compliments and expressions of love through words, and maeve’s from learning to appreciate and bask in the meaning and emotion behind the physical affection that he does engage in. also she’s just,, a slut for any kind of affection to begin with, but it’s definitely a whole Thing with being touched when there’s genuine care and love behind it instead of some other ulterior motive.

what are some songs that apply to their relationship, in-universe or otherwise?

[sweats in Having An Entire Playlist Dedicated To Dummies In This AU]

sunlight by hozier — (video essayist voice) the conclusion: maeve is the sunlight to dietrich’s raincloud, thank you. the vibes for this one are just off the charts, lads. it’s about finding Warmth and Light in this love amidst the horrors of the world and in spite of the initial reluctance to let each other get close.

safe & sound by taylor swift — another one with vibes out of this world, this song is Top Tier for a big part of their dynamic in this verse, which is them finding safety and comfort in each other while the rest of the world goes to shit around them. everything may be going up in flames outside, but they know that they have each other and they’re not Alone in anything they do.

what kind of nicknames do they call each other?

maeve’s the queen of petnames, unfortunately for the easily flustered bastard. her favorites are naturally dear and darling, but she also enjoys an occasional use of lover. has called him baby once or twice just to get the reaction out of him. oh wait she also likes calling him an old man when he’s Like That and doesn’t get her references or grumbles too much.

i mean,, it’s dietrich, he uses Sommers more often than her fuckin’ first name and i don’t think he’s out here using petnames/nicknames on the reg At All, they’re opposite ends of the spectrum with this one. he called her sweetheart once to throw her off and it sent her out of wack for at least the entire rest of the day. so good on him, mission accomplished.

DOMESTIC LIFE —

if they get married, who proposes?

no marriage! dietrich’s not quite keen on it and maeve’s not the type to push him into anything he’s not comfortable with. if anything she might?? bring up the idea of rings if they ever come by some while out and about and they’ve been together for a hot minute, for the sentimental and sappy reason of having little reminders of each other to keep on their persons, but she’s not Insistent about it and is content with what they have.

how many kids do they have, if any? What are they like?

no kids! world too scary, no thank you!! they’re also just Not in dietrich’s wheelhouse, which may have been a Problem for them if they weren’t in the midst of an actual fuckin’ apocalypse where nearly every day is a fight for survival and maeve can Clearly see every downside of bringing a baby into that.

do they have any pets?

don’t think so, but maeve’s probably made a whole Deal once or twice about leaving a little food for any dogs or cats they see along their treks because she has a soft heart.

who kills the bugs in the house?

dietrich!! he’s in charge of doing away with those Creatures because maeve will most certainly not be going anywhere near them if she can help it. which is,, pretty funny. you know considering their Big Picture circumstances. zombies? she’s fine with them after a point, only truly terrifying in medium-to-large numbers. a spider or cockroach skittering across the kitchen counter?? Horrifying! leitner do your job and protect your woman from the hellspawn

how do they celebrate holidays?

generally just by,, Acknowledging them?? at the very least. maeve has her entire Thing that is keeping track of the date with a day planner that she has had with her from the very beginning (though it’s been lost once or twice, always found its way back), but she doesn’t demand anything happen on holidays because they’re usually a bit Busy making sure they aren’t Dying to whatever’s threatening them that day. on the occasions where they have the free time, maeve insists they spend quiet time together without having to worry about any of their daily responsibilities and that’s holiday enough. maybe slips in a small tradition if applicable and not too over the top

who’s more likely to convince the other to come back to sleep in the morning?

maeve is a very ;) persuasive woman ;)) it was more difficult and had a less frequent success rate back during the fwb days, but he’s completely fucked after they’ve been #confirmed. stands not a single chance to resist those eyes and the idea of lying in her arms for just a little while longer before they have to start their day.

who’s the better cook?

😔😔 dietrich by far. maeve couldn’t cook for shit before the apocalypse began when she had access to all sorts of appliances, recipes and helpful tutorials, there ain’t no way in hell she stands a chance at beating him Now. she’ll gladly take up other duties, but he’s their chef unless somebody else in the group has made a big dinner for everyone to share.

#not me constantly yelling from the rooftops about how much i love theym #i had half a braincell while writing most of this but consider: i don't care bc i fuckin adore them and the rambling is on brand #sometimes the romance is stored in the growing and learning from each other until you mirror & perfectly understand each other y'know #witcher au: apocalypse #maeve & dietrich

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talabib · 4 years ago

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How to Break Free From The 9 to 5 Grind And Find A More Meaningful Life.

What did you do last week? Was each day about getting up, going to work and coming home exhausted?

Is your house filled with gadgets and toys meant to distract you from the dreadfulness of those 50-, 60- or 70-hour work weeks?

In case you haven’t realized this for yourself, there’s little happiness to be found in devoting your life to a job that only provides you with a paycheck. And to make matters worse, the meaningless things we buy to make the job easier to cope with only serve to clutter up our lives and cause more anxieties and distractions.

As these post points out, it’s time to reprogram our minds and bodies away from the corporate culture of fast-food, disposable goods and instant gratification. With some simple techniques and a bit of effort, you can reclaim your life, declutter it of all that’s hollow and useless, and refill it with meaning and purpose.

Money and stressful jobs are not keys to happiness.

Many people grow up with the expectation that getting “a good job” is everything. From this perspective, true “success” is based on how good the job is – which is largely dependent upon the size of the paycheck. But the truth is: money doesn't buy happiness.

Even rich people will tell you that more money comes with more problems, including being so stressed that you resort to comfort eating, waste money on meaningless gadgets and constantly think about the future while never enjoying the present.

Success often comes at another great cost: very few hours to spend with loved ones. Hired help raises many children from families of success-oriented adults, just so their parents can spend more time earning money.

So, more often than not, the thing that money really buys is unhappiness. Ask yourself this: Is any stressful job worth having?

Ryan Nicodemus asked this question while working at what many would consider to be a great job. He was even on the rise, getting promoted to a managerial position, but the role came with 80-hour work weeks and huge amounts of responsibility and pressure. What it added up to was debilitating anxiety, stress and depression.

Nowadays, Nicodemus believes there is no amount of money to justify the toll a stressful job has on your mental health. However, when you’re wrapped up in the job-is-everything mentality, it feels like you always need to make more and more money.

Both Nicodemus and his friend, Joshua Fields Millburn, thought they would be happy once they hit $50,000 a year. But after reaching that milestone, the goal quickly crept up to $75,000, then $100,000 and so on. At no point did they feel satisfied.

Part of the reason for wanting more was that, as their paycheck grew, so did their financial commitments and responsibilities – in the form of loans, cars and mortgages. Eventually, enough was enough and they both quit their jobs and decided to live on less money.

It was at this point that Millburn and Nicodemus finally experienced happiness. All thanks to their decision to adopt a minimalist lifestyle of working and consuming less.

But as we’ll see, the minimalist ethos is about more than money and work; it’s about letting go of everything that holds you back.

To begin your shift to minimalism, pay off your debts and declutter your surroundings.

If you were to ask yourself “What are the anchors that are dragging me down?” the answer might not be readily apparent. But there’s a good chance that you have some form of debt, be it a mortgage, credit cards or student loans, that weighs heavily on your well-being.

That’s why the first and most crucial step to minimalist living is to pay off all your debts.

At some point, you may have been fooled by credit-card ads or a banker telling you to take advantage of a certain mortgage, but let’s be clear: there’s no such thing as “good debt.” All debt is bad, plain and simple.

As Joshua Milburn was preparing for a minimalist existence, he followed a strict budget and spent two years saving as much as he could to pay off his debts. This meant a hundred weeks of no vacations, no restaurants and no luxuries of any kind. But it was worth every minute for the relief he felt in finally paying off his debts. He was now free to live the life he wanted.

While you’re decluttering your finances, you should also turn your attention to reducing your material clutter.

First of all, it’s important to recognize that your possessions aren’t a meaningful statement about who you are as a person. Instead, you should ask yourself whether your belongings truly help you live in the present or if they prevent you from doing so.

For decades, Joshua Milburn’s mother had four sealed boxes in her home that she never opened. They contained every scrap of work John had brought home from elementary school, from handwriting tests to drawings.

Millburn understood that she was hoarding these things in an effort to hold on to her little boy, but the cherished and meaningful things in life aren’t objects, they’re our memories and relationships. This doesn’t mean you need to throw away everything, but Milburn’s mom could keep one meaningful drawing in a frame rather than four sealed-up boxes.

By decluttering, we not only give ourselves more physical breathing room, but we also provide more mental breathing room. Having objects everywhere vying for our attention can easily weigh us down mentally.

Minimalism is also about reducing the amount of junk you put into your body.

There’s no shortage of diets or fitness programs out there. In fact, the sheer amount can seem overwhelming. But you can avoid trendy diets and temporary fixes by reprogramming the way you think about your body.

From now on, think of it as a machine: when you give it high-quality fuel, you’ll allow it to perform at its maximum potential. With this frame of mind, it should seem obvious that junk food, like processed and prepackaged goods, should be avoided.

This kind of food is full of additives and preservatives that add zero nutritional value to your diet. All they provide are empty calories, especially sugar, which are terrible for your health. Sure, these foods may taste good in the moment, but they can often make you feel awful afterward. So any temporary pleasure is far outweighed by the long-term damage they can cause to both your physical health and your mood.

A good decluttering regimen should also include dairy and bread. We’ve been eating wheat and pasteurized milk for a relatively short period in human history – only since the invention of agriculture. Our bodies were never designed to digest the vast quantities of dairy and bread contained in the average modern diet.

So, whether you have a gluten or lactose intolerance or not, you can benefit from cutting back on these foods and replacing them with natural whole foods like vegetables, fish and beans. Once you’ve made this adjustment to your diet, you’ll soon find yourself with a surplus of energy. And this is a good thing to have for the next step: getting the most out of your body.

Fitness is something that works best when you have a constant growth mind-set, which means you’re always aiming for more than last time – whether it’s a faster running time, more repetitions or heavier weights.

To adopt this mind-set, you need to demand more from yourself. To help make this happen, you can reprogram your thinking away from “I should...” to “I MUST...”

Don’t tell yourself “I should go out jogging three times this week;” instead say “I MUST go for a run tomorrow at 8 a.m.” With some persistence, you can even make yourself accomplish new things.

Maybe you can’t do a single pull-up now, but you can probably hang from the bar for 30 seconds. So, do that and then tomorrow, hang for 40 seconds, and then continue doing more until you build up enough arm strength to do a pull-up.

Change and improvement don’t have to impact your authenticity; they can lead to better relationships.

Friends and loved ones are important. If you’re currently feeling isolated or unhappy with your relationships, it may be time for another round of reprogramming, this time to become more accepting of others as well as appearing more acceptable to others. The first step to making this happen is to have a willingness to change.

It’s hopeless to try and change other people – in fact, it’s cruel to even attempt to do so – but it is possible to improve yourself.

However, you may be resistant to the idea of change if you think that there’s nothing wrong with being your “authentic self.” But it’s important to take an honest look at your behavior and recognize when you’re doing something that upsets people or is a turnoff.

If you’re unhappy about being shy, a poor listener or overweight, don’t think “that’s who I am.” Instead, do something about it and be proactive in your self-improvement.

Changing yourself isn’t betraying your authenticity; it’s simply a way to attract better relationships. Would you rather be lonely or would you rather work on yourself so that you’re a better conversationalist and a more appealing person?

Another avenue toward self-improvement is to be more accepting of those with different opinions than your own.

Don’t think that you’re meant to find someone who thinks and shares the same opinions as you – this is just another fallacy. Relationships aren’t about hobbies and tastes; they’re about love, so you should accept that people are going to think differently than you.

If more people were open-minded about whom they hang out with, there would be far fewer lonely people in the world!

So, don’t just tolerate and accept your loved ones' peculiar habits; respect and appreciate them!

Let’s say your loved one has a hobby you find annoying, like collecting action figures. After all, isn’t a silly collection the opposite of minimalist living? Actually no, especially if they get a lot of meaning and pleasure out of that collection. So don’t deter them; understand that the collection enriches your partner’s life and therefore should be cherished as part of what makes them the person you love.

With this in mind, here are the four steps to help you better tolerate, accept, respect and appreciate the person you’re with:

Tolerate their unique hobby or passion;

Accept that it will always be there;

Respect the effort your partner puts into their pastime;

Appreciate the hobby as a part of your life because it is an important part of your loved one’s life.

Don't let work define you as a person.

Just as we saw the importance of breaking away from the idea that money and work are the most important things in life, so too should we avoid thinking that our jobs define us.

Think of it this way: You’re a complicated person with a variety of interests and talents, some of which make money, some of which cost money. So you’re far more than just your job. Nevertheless, it's easy to fall into the trap of letting your job title define you.

Many people will find a job in a certain industry and feel they should stick with that industry for the rest of their lives as if it's a part of who they are. But remember, a job is just a job. In fact, your job might even be an anchor that weighs you down.

Consider this: your job isn’t even one of the top five most important aspects of life. Those are: your health, your relationships, your passions, your personal growth, and your contribution to society.

These are the aspects of your life that make sense to measure yourself against, not your job title or how much money you make.

This is why you should avoid the annoying small-talk question of “So, what do you do?” This is often asked early on in a conversation as if it were the most important characteristic of someone’s life and not just a different way of asking, “So, how much money do you make?” Instead, why not ask them, “What are you into?” or “What are you passionate about?”

And if someone asks you, “What do you do?” you can redirect the conversation by saying something like “Oh, I do a lot of things, but my current passion is gardening. How about you?”

For more freedom, reduce your dependency on money.

One of the primary purposes behind minimalism is to spend less of your life working at a job. Naturally, this means finding ways to become less dependent on a big paycheck.

There are a number of ways to help with this, including learning how to make things yourself rather than buying them, and selling off the needless clutter in your home. But the next reprogramming you should learn is how to live on a small income.

The first step here is to create a monthly budget and stick to it. So start by making a list of needs, which includes all your fundamental household costs, such as food, pet food, gas, electricity, insurance and transportation. These are basic needs that have to be met, so there’s no getting around them.

Next, start a second list of wants, which might include categories like new clothes and entertainment. Now, at the start of each month, separate your extra money so that both of these categories are given a budget. And to make sure you don’t break the budget, you can separate them into different spending accounts.

Remember, every dollar in the budget should be accounted for. So, if you dip into the entertainment budget to buy new shoes, you’ll have to wait until next month to go out to that restaurant.

To reduce hard feelings and make things fair, get the entire household to agree on the budget. Since everyone has a say, there should be a feeling of mutual responsibility for making it work. For example, by making the kids part of the process, they’ll know not to bother trying to get extra money for video games when that money is being set aside for school supplies. But it’s still wise to set up a safety net.

Once you get yourself set up, you’ll find that it isn’t hard to live comfortably with less money, but that doesn’t mean life won’t surprise you with something unexpected, like an illness or the car breaking down.

This is why it’s smart and sensible to establish a safety net of at least $500 to $1,000 at first. You should not only do this as soon as possible, but you should also put the money in a place where it isn’t easy to spend.

Once you're out of debt, you can add to this safety net. And with your new found powers of budgeting, you’ll find that this fund can grow quite quickly.

Make life more rewarding and purposeful by taking on difficult work that contributes to society.

So you’ve cut all your anchors and are finally free from your dependencies. The only question now is: What are you going to do with your newfound freedom?

Sure, you have your new plans to get healthy, fit and friendly, but you won’t get far without a strong purpose in your life. And true purpose only comes from a meaningful life that allows you to actively contribute to society.

You might think that donating money to a charity means doing enough for society, but you can only have it be meaningful and purposeful if you’re directly involved.

What you’re sure to find is that the most rewarding activities are the ones that are the most challenging.

Some activities are easy, like reading in the park or swimming in the pool, and while easy activities are fun, they aren’t very purposeful.

Challenging activities, on the other hand, might make us feel uncomfortable while we’re in the middle of them, but afterward, they make us feel fantastic. This can include child rearing or running a marathon – there are a lot of difficulties involved, but the rewards make these efforts feel worthwhile, and they become the most significant experiences in our lives.

That’s why these are the kind of events we should seek and build our lives with, especially when we don’t just contribute to our lives but to society as a whole.

Fortunately, there is no shortage of charities looking for volunteers for this kind of meaningful work, whether it’s building affordable homes for the poor or turning vacant lots into community gardens. This is tough work, but it’ll be extremely rewarding when you’re looking back on it.

You can still make these tasks fun, too. If you’re building homes for the needy, there’s a good chance some days will be rainy or cold, and morale might take a dip, but you could rally together to sing songs. Or you could have an emergency supply of hot chocolate with marshmallows.

But unlike a cushy office job, where you may not even understand how your work contributes anything of value, this difficult work comes with a strong sense of purpose that will make your days a lot easier to get through – no matter how bad the conditions might get.

You are not your job, and you don’t need as much money as you think. You can restart your life by dispensing with all the “stuff’ you don’t need and the relationships that are dragging you down. Living simply will help you open up to and relish a more meaningful life.

#How to Break Free From The 9 to 5 Grind And Find A More Meaningful Life.

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honeybammie · 6 years ago

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the world › bang chan

↳ in which chan is back after being away for months, and he doesn’t smell like home anymore ↳ little bit angsty, mostly fluffy

Chan is home, returning for the first time in months. He doesn’t smell like himself anymore. No longer do the scents of singed candle wicks like lavender and oak cling to his skin. Instead, the entire world fills my nostrils: spices I have never tasted and flowers I have never heard of. He smells like the rain in Thailand, and I have no idea what that even means. At the very least, he looks like himself—a few months older, maybe, and tired, but the latter has always been true.

The afternoon is warm, mid-seventies, and I’m shaking. Shaking because touching him sends jolts of electricity through my legs. Shaking because I smell the same and look the same and am for the most part well-rested. Shaking because I’m not the world.

But Chan doesn’t seem to realize.

“Hi,” he says, kissing my forehead and cheeks and every inch of my bare face until he settles on my lips. “I’m home.”

I hadn’t stopped fidgeting in days, but hearing him say home stills my nerves for a brief moment of peace. “You are,” I say, cupping his face in my hands to confirm. He’s not a compilation of pixels through a low-quality video chat or a high-quality fan photo. He’s warm and real and here.

“Are you cold?” he asks, leaning into my touch. I wonder if the electricity flows in him, too. It has to. “You’re shaking.”

I shake my head. No, I was afraid you’d come home from the world and realize I’m only a fraction of it— a fraction that starts with a decimal and is followed by a million zeros.

But he tells me, on a nightly basis, that he loves me, that he can’t wait to see me again. I grasp for him over video chat on the nights he has a spare moment to call, hoping my atoms will disperse and reform on the other side of the computer. My attempts have yet to meet success.

“Just excited,” I tell him instead. He lifts his hands to wrap his fingers around mine, squeezing gently to remind me not to venture too deep into my own thoughts.

“Want to tell me how your week has been?” he asks. Usually he takes a few minutes to ask what I’ve been up to, but wrapping up promotions has taken up so much time that he’s barely been able to message me other than to tell me goodnight.

To be honest, I don’t remember any of the past four days now that he’s here. I had lunch with a coworker. French food, I think, or maybe Greek. I got an email about an event downtown and wanted him to join me, but what or when the event was escapes me. “It was just another week. It became the best week a couple minutes ago.” I blush, and in a quieter voice I add. “I’d rather you tell me about the world.”

“Okay, then let’s sit. Mind taking this?” Chan hands the bag on his shoulder over to me and lifts the two suitcases behind him, carrying them into the living room. He told me a couple times that he’s been working out a lot, but I only notice the progress now in the way his muscles shift under the black tee he’s wearing.

Oh, I think, swallowing hard, but the thought that follows is one of thousands of screaming fans ogling over the same body that I do. I’m still getting used to sharing him.

“Come here, silly.” He brings me back by patting the space on the couch next to him, and I join. He takes back the bag that I carried and sets it in the unoccupied cushion, pulling back the zipper to reveal contents I don’t recognize.

“What’s all this?” I ask, craning my neck over him.

“I’m gonna show you! No peeking!” he fusses, and I smile a little at his childlike enthusiasm. He’s brought back pieces of the world, treasures to share with me.

One by one, he pulls materialized memories out of the bag, explaining each gift like they are stars he brought from the sky, and to me, they’re damn close. There’s a bracelet in my favorite color that he found at a bazaar in the Philippines, and a vial of sand from a beach in Thailand with a couple shells trapped inside. Candy from Japan he says I’ll love, a few books on foreign philosophies that he knows I’ll devour as soon as he leaves again. Even a tacky “I Heart New York” shirt thrown in the mix, because he thought it was funny, and I think it’s funny, too.

“Oh, one more thing,” he gushes, reaching into a side zipper as he tells me to close my eyes. I listen, squeezing them shut until cool metal hits my hand. “Okay, you can open them now.”

There’s a silver key resting in my palm, attached to a delicate chain. “Let me guess. Because I have the key to your heart?” I tease, expecting him to pull out another necklace with a locket.

“Not quite,” he says, showing me his hand, in which rests an identical key. He flips it over to show me the spot where my initials are engraved, and I turn over my own. Sure enough: CB. “Because together, we can unlock any door, or do anything, or be whoever we want.”

“That’s just as cheesy,” I say, deadpan.

“It’s romantic!” he pouts. “I had them custom-made in Paris. They didn’t appreciate that I only gave them two days, but it worked out.”

“Paris?” I echo, and I love the gift that much more. He had been to a couple countries in Europe, but not France. How would he ever have found the time?

“You’ve always wanted to go, and one day, we’ll go together, but for now I decided to bring a piece back to you,” he says. I think my heart falls out of my chest because it needs to find a place with more room to love him. “Do you mind if I—?” He takes the necklace, unclasps it, and hooks it around my neck. I return the favor, and for a moment we sit and stare at the other half. At our other half.

“Une clé,” I say. My years of French classes don’t fail me, and he smiles.

“That has a nice sound to it,” he muses, hooking his finger under my chain and gently pulling me forward until my lips brush his. “Une clé.” My accent is better, but his effort is admirable. I spend the afternoon teaching him French words.

Night is normal again, with Chan in his spot in bed next to mine. The way it should be. The way it rarely is. His long day of travel puts him to sleep first, but I remain, unable to help myself as I get a headstart on one of the books he brought home. I glance at him now and again, too, trying to get used to the changes. His presence. His physique. His key, still hanging around his neck. One of his arms is tucked under the pillow, and the other reaches for me, rested on my stomach so he knows I’m there. I’m not the only one who has to remind myself, apparently.

“Baby,” he murmurs long after I assumed him asleep, fingers twitching to life.

“Yes?” I answer, marking my page and closing the book. I set it on the nightstand, sliding down under the covers until my nose is only inches from his. He smells less worldly after a long shower, but still doesn’t smell like home.

“You were worried earlier,” he says. “The shaking. Your eyes. I could tell. What was wrong?”

I was afraid. I was afraid. I was afraid. I think of the world in him and the stagnancy in myself. “There’s the world, and there’s me. There are a thousand cities waiting for you and a million people, and there’s me. There are infinite things, and there’s me. Do you understand?”

His eyes flutter shut in a moment of tired processing, and then he shakes his head. “Not at all.”

I take a deep breath and sigh. “I’m afraid that while you’re out seeing the entire world, you’ll forget about me, because the world is so big and I’m so small and eventually the cities and the sights and the people will swallow me whole.”

He’s wide awake now, eyes darting to every curve and edge of my face. “You’re not the world,” he says. So he does realize. “But you are bigger—bigger than every city, or every sight, or every person put together. I’d sooner forget myself than you.”

“I get jealous. Sometimes,” I admit, quieter, because I hate to say it. “Because the world gets to see you so much, and I get to see you so little, and I have to share you with a million people who fawn over you and your talent and your body and...everything. Is that terrible? Am I terrible?”

“You’re jealous that other people want to sleep with me?” he smirks. I whack his arm and try to roll over, but he laughs and brings me right back. It’s not hard to do. “I appreciate you everyday for letting me live my dream. You know that, right?”

I nod. Because I do. And Chan would never look at another person with an ounce of the adoration he showed me, but every once in a while jealousy grinned my way. “I know, yes.”

“And maybe there are a million others you have to share me with, but none of them I’d share this with.” He touches the key hanging at my chest. “They’re custom, remember? No two others like them anywhere, and no one deserves to wear it except you.”

“Just me and you,” I say, and he nods. As much as the world around us has changed, Chan is the same boy I fell in love with. To most, time and distance are a ticking equation for ruin, but they’re nothing but words to him.

“And one day you’ll be able to see it all with me. I’ll bring you everywhere I’ll go, and we’ll never be apart longer than a week.”

The promise sounds so far away, especially considering he’ll leave again in a few weeks, but I believe him. “And until then I have the key. And everything else you brought.”

“Exactly. And my love, always,” he says, kissing my forehead. “What’s French for ‘you have the key to my heart’?”

“You said that’s not what they were for.”

“They can have a dual meaning, and I’m curious.” He shrugs, but I know he just wants to hear me say something else in French.

“Tu as la clé de ma cœur.”

He repeats after me, his pronunciation much less graceful, and he giggles at the sound of himself halfway through, but the sentiment is the same.

“Et tu as la mienne,” I answer. I don’t need to translate for him to know.

me?? actually writing something?? and posting it?? after three months?? i’m gonna try to be more active i promisE but college is R O U GH

#stray kids #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #stray kids fluff #stray kids angst #bang chan #stray kids chan #kpop scenarios #kpop fluff #kpop imagines #kpop au #stray kids au #stray kids bang chan #kpop drabbles #stray kids drabbles #stray kids oneshot #kpop fanfiction #skzwriters #stray kids fanfiction

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killers-high · 5 years ago

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THE POSITIVE & NEGATIVE; Mun & Muse - Meme.

fill out & repost ♥ This meme definitely favors canons more, but I hope OC’s still can make it somehow work with their own lore, and lil’ fandom of friends & mutuals. Multi-Muses pick the muse you are the most invested in atm.

My muse is: canon / oc / au / canon-divergent / fandomless /

Is your character popular in the fandom? YES / NO? (i mean, he’s rather liked overall but there’s not that many ppl who rp him?)

Is your character considered hot™ in the fandom? YES / NO / IDK.

Is your character considered strong in the fandom? OH YES / NO / IDK.

Are they underrated? YES / NO.

Were they relevant for the main story? YES / NO / KIND OF?

Were they relevant for the main character? YES / NO / THEY’RE THE PROTAG. --> hard to say. kinda yes, but then not that much. there are characters who sure were more relevant.

Are they widely known in their world? YES / NO.

How’s their reputation? GOOD / BAD / NEUTRAL. <-- depends who you ask, heh

How strictly do you follow canon? — In general I keep my Kenpachi close to canon, but I’m not very strict about it. I like to fill up the holes left in canon story with headcanons, and I’m open for plots that are canon-divergent as long as they simply make sense, logic-wise. I’m also willing to deviate from canon when comes to shipping -- for me it’s about chemistry and chemistry only; I have a few ships I like when comes to dynamics and such, but I wouldn’t turn down a character my Kenpachi grew to like/love only because it’s not on my ship list. Of course all the canon relationships are relevant and you can totally jump straight to the kind of interactions your character used to have with mine in the manga, but anything more than that needs to be developed first. Also, I acknowledge the relation between Kenpachi and Unohana as canon, but I see it more as a mother-child relationship; even if there’s some twisted kind of affection in it, it’s hard for me to imagine them living together as a happy little family. I know, the idea is cute, but personally I think there’s far too much bitter feelings between them so it could ever work this way.

SELL YOUR MUSE! Aka try to list everything, which makes your muse interesting in your opinion to make them spicy for your mutuals. — Uh, I’m not sure what makes Kenpachi interesting for other people as a character, so I’ll just say a few words about what could make my version of Kenpachi possibly interesting to interact with, I guess. Kenpachi is a guy not only of great power, but of great experience as well. People tend to see him as a bloodthirsty berserk with all brawn and no brains, but there’s so much more to him than meets the eye -- he’s more clever than he likes to show, and while his kind of wisdom might be not so obvious and ‘classical’ kind, he has it and he uses it both in his fights and in interactions with others. Although he might make an impression that his own strength is all he cares about, it’s only partially true. Kenpachi likes to help others become stronger and watch them grow just as much as he likes to improve his own power; he hates to see wasted potential, and he often provokes or challenges people into situations that, in his opinion, will help them to discover their strength or improve as a person. He’s not a touchy-feely guy and he hardly lets it show, but he cares about the ones who are close to him and would risk own life without a second thought to protect them -- however, this other, more private and more vulnerable side of him usually stays hidden from the world, as he’s not willing to show it to anyone except those who worked hard to gain his trust.

Now the OPPOSITE, list everything why your muse could not be so interesting (even if you may not agree, what does the fandom perhaps think?). — Kenpachi is not interested in people who aren’t willing to fight -- not only literally, but also fight for themselves, for their goals, dreams, fight to overcome their weaknesses, their bad experiences, their fears. He has little patience for those who whine and do nothing to improve their life, so instead of support they get as much as disdainful look from him. He’s hardly interested in interacting with anyone who can’t offer him either a good fight or a good challenge of some other kind -- or a way to kill boredom at least -- and can be pretty unresponsive if the way other character approaches him doesn’t pick up his curiosity. On top of that, he can be a bit of a handful at times -- he gets annoyed pretty easily, tends to be restless and snappy when bored, he speaks before he thinks and since he’s pretty foulmouthed and pulls no punches he often hurts others even while it was not his intention.

What inspired you to rp your muse? — My muse himself. Kenpachi was my favorite character from the first time I’ve seen him (around 2008 or so), and when I discovered Bleach rp on tumblr (by accident while hunting for pics lmao) I decided to give it a shot.

What keeps your inspiration going? — I don’t really need inspiration to write him. I can do it at pretty much any time given, likely because we’re similar character-wise and it takes me like zero effort to get in his skin. The only thing I need is a rough idea for some plot and BOOM here we go. Unless it’s a chat rp, then I don’t need even this.

Some more personal questions for the mun.

Give your mutuals some insight about the way you are in some matters, which could lead them to get more comfortable with you or perhaps not.

Do you think you give your character justice? YES? / NO. <-- you tell me

Do you frequently write headcanons? YES / NO.

Do you sometimes write drabbles? YES / NO.

Do you think a lot about your Muse during the day? YES / NO.

Are you confident in your portrayal? YES / NO.

Are you confident in your writing? YES / NO.

Are you a sensitive person? YES / NO.

Do you accept criticism well about your portrayal? — I don’t have any problem with criticism in general. If something about my character or the way I write him bothers you, feel free to tell me. I can’t promise I’m gonna care though -- Kenpachi is a very personal muse for me, and the way I portray him sometimes can differ from other portrayals or from what’s ‘canon’ simply because he shares a lot of qualities with me as his writer. Fact that you criticized my portrayal doesn’t mean I will change a single thing about it, but sure I won’t get offended or stop interacting with you only cause you said a word or two. The only criticism I never publish/respond to is shit aimed at stirring up drama, as people who write such are not worth my time.

Do you like questions, which help you explore your character? — FUCK YEAH. Some of them really force me to think about stuff I wouldn’t have thought about otherwise, and make me discover my character anew in some places I thought I already know him ins and outs. I like all the questions, no matter the topic, and I do my best to answer them with details.

If someone disagrees to a headcanon of yours, do you want to know why? — Sure I’d be curious about what their reasoning is, like, what makes them think things aren’t the way I see them? What is their headcanon on this particular topic? Do they disagree completely, or just some part of it doesn’t lie well with them?

If someone disagrees with your portrayal, how would you take it? — Depends how they carry it out. If it’s like ‘okay i don’t think so but it’s cool, everyone can have own opinion’ it’s totally fine, i’m far too old to bang heads over such silly shit (there’s no ‘right’ and ‘wrong’ portrayal btw -- everyone does it their own way and there’s nothing to whine about). If they come to my askbox solely with the purpose to pester me about it, and do it in a way that makes me question their age and/or mental health, I’m gonna block their ass out of existence.

If someone really hates your character, how do you take it? — I don’t care and it’s highly unlikely I’ll ever notice they do unless they make effort to bring it to my inbox. In the end it’s their problem, not mine; I’m just gonna continue doing my thing while they’ll be wasting time and energy on writing shit nobody cares about.

Are you okay with people pointing out your grammatical errors? — Sure. English ain’t my native so if I write something that makes no sense just lemme know -- it’s a way to learn, too, and if you tell me there’s a chance I don’t make the same mistake again.

Do you think you are easy going as a mun? — Yeah, I’m pretty laidback and I don’t give a flying fuck about 99% of things that tend to raise a lot of hackles. It’s nearly impossible to offend me, and I have a lot of understanding for the fact other people have their own lives, likes, problems, ideas, families, health issues, work routines and whatnot, so I never pester anyone for replies or anything rp related. However, I’m a confirmed extrovert in this kingdom of introverts which is tumblr, so I tend to hang out on Discord/chats a lot and then think I must be a fucking pain in the rear for my more introverted friends cause I’m always the one to message them first, and it makes me want to melt into a sad pool of shame for being such a needy fucktard.

tagged by: @hirako5hinji [thank you!]

Not sure who did it already, so if you see it on your dash and wanna do it, feel tagged B]

#ooc #memes;#[this took me far longer than it should]#hirako5hinji

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mtvswatches · 5 years ago

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Jane the Virgin 2x11 Chapter Thirty-Three

Spoilers disclaimer (please read before sending messages or writing comments.)

Click here for previous recaps!

Stray thoughts

1) So, the opening flashback has Jane giving Xiomara grief over not having a regular job and not giving up her dream in spite of not being able to offer her daughter proper living conditions. I guess this will be somehow connected with Jane’s motherhood and her dream of becoming a writer? Maybe?

2) As per usual, Rogelio continues to go overboard when trying to help either Xiomara or Jane. In this case, he brought a whole team of stylist, hairdresser, and photographer to get Xiomara’s picture taken. He couldn’t remember the names of each of them, but for some reason, I can’t hold any of this against him. I think it’s because he… tries, you know? He doesn’t do any of this on purpose. And now he’s jumping at the opportunity to babysit Mateo, which, let’s be real, is a show I’d watch the hell out. Jane reluctantly accepts.

3) The duplicitous bitch continues to milk the Solanos tragedies for views. Shocker.

4) Jane is lusting over her professor, and I couldn’t be less invested or more bored.

5) The moron seems to be dating Michael’s partner, whose name I just learned is Susanna. Again, I couldn’t care less.

6) Elena is Rose’s stepmother? So that makes Rose… Rafael’s stepsister? And the moron’s, too? That’s… twisted…

7) Now Jane has blurted her professor’s name in the middle of her smut reading, and I guess she’s considering dating him? And I’m like, why? She’s been going back and forth between Rafael and Michael since episode 1, and it hasn’t worked out with either, so maybe… be single? There’s nothing wrong with that.

8) Xiomara found Rogelio’s mother’s ring in his bedroom and Jane blurted out that Rogelio was going to propose. And while I’m glad Xiomara didn’t freak out and seems to be absolutely happy with the idea of marrying Rogelio, I can’t help but feel she and Jane are making a lot of assumptions here. Yes, he kept the ring, but there haven’t been any indications that he was about to propose in the near future. I don’t know. I think he was going to wait it out a bit, which I completely understand.

9) Okay, Jane and Xiomara came clean immediately. But instead of proposing, he gave it to Jane? Proves my point, though.

10) Weird flex, but okay…

PETRA: You really think you can charm a woman about to get married? RAFAEL: It worked with you.

I liked that the flashback showed that they were both playing each other. It’s a wonder that relationship didn’t last…

11) Yep.

12) The professor is not taking any hints and instead, he wants to get a free tour around Rogelio’s set. Okay, I’m still zero invested in this storyline.

13) “The Trophy Wife”!

14) Oh. This sucks. Now that Xiomara has an actual shot to make her dreams of becoming a singer true, she gets shot down because she’s been prioritizing her family.

15) OMG Rogelio’s tweets as he’s babysitting…

Ten minutes looking for the perfect shoes to compliment my eyes. 👞 😤 🌈

On the phone with my agent, fielding multiple offers. #WhatWillRoDoNext. 🙈

Exfoliating. #Loofa

Trying on all my fedoras. #HidelnAHat.

I’m 100% convinced he’s tweeting all of this because he can’t disappoint his fans or something like that, but he’s definitely taking great care of his grandson. I’d bet my life on it.

16) See?

He was taking care of Mateo, and he’s even sharing with his grandson that he is, in fact, going to propose to his grandma. But now I’m afraid Mateo is going to swallow the diamond because Jane just called in the middle of him showing it to the baby…

17) Yep. I saw that coming. Jane is going off at him, and it seems unfair. It’s so common for babies to swallow stuff, they just poop it back out, it’s no big deal. And I do feel it’s kind of Jane’s fault? Rogelio wouldn’t have been distracted if she hadn’t called because she was so paranoid that he would mess up. It’s like a self-fulfilling prophecy. Besides, Rogelio acted appropriately. He realized immediately what had happened and took his grandson to the doctor. But whose fault was it when you allowed your child to be in the middle of a violent fight between his dad and your ex and he got hurt?

18) At least she apologized the next day, so there’s that.

19) Oh, Petra, the trophy wife thing really did get to her. And honestly, I really like who Rafael and Petra used to be? They truly were a healthy couple.

20) Okay…

Yeah, I think her telenovela life and her romance writing have somehow given her the idea that every man she meets will instantly be into her. I really hope it’s not just her making the fool of herself and then it will turn out that he was really into her, though. Can a male character in this show not be in love with her for once? She’s not all that great.

21) So, Petra came up with a smart solution to secure the wedding and she had to give up a little bit of her pride in order to do so, but kudos for her.

22) I really liked this bit and it reminded of a point I’ve been meaning to make but always forget to…

I think it’s very cool how Jane is a straight-up romance/erotica writer and no one in the show has ever made fun of her because of it? Everyone encourages her and takes her seriously – her family and her mentors, too. And it’s a wonderful message to send because usually romance writers are looked down on and the genre is seen as a joke, so it’s refreshing that here it is presented as a valid, respectable career choice.

23) Oh, Xiomara feels Rogelio is not being supportive, but in reality, he’s just insisting she skips the gig because he was planning to propose…

24) But he skipped the party and went to her gig to show her how much he supports her. Have I told you that he’s my favorite?

25) The moron must have a golden pussy, how do all the girls fall for her? SHE’S A MORON!

26) Okay…

I mean, I can get behind this ship, sort of. Mostly because of Petra. But… wasn’t he like super in love with Jane two days ago?

27) Bless her. She asked him if he was over Jane. Like GTFO dude, how dare you trying to use Petra to make yourself feel better? When she’s pregnant with your child?

28) And this is why Rogelio is my fave…

JANE: And look, Dad, I overreacted, too, and I'm so sorry I yelled at you. ROGELIO: That's not why I was upset. It's just… what if it's true? What if I'm not good with kids? I mean, I want them with your mother. JANE: Dad… ROGELIO: What if I'm terrible at it? I mean, you turned out perfect without me. JANE: Trust me, I wish I had you. And you'll be great, you know? You'll learn as you go. You can't just jump in and expect to know everything. I promise. You'll get there.

And then he goes and kisses the hell out of Xiomara to show her how proud he is of her. How can you not love Rogelio?

29) This is, without a doubt, one of the sweetest proposals I’ve ever seen. And you should trust my judgment since I don’t believe in marriage…

My buddy, Ryan Gosling, said, “The only quality I look for in a woman is that she's Eva Mendes. There's nothing else I'm looking for" At this point I was going to wave to Eva, and then look at you, and tell you that you are what I've been looking for. And I think back to when we first met, when we were 16, and I think that my whole journey up to now has been about finding my way back to you. I haven't had time to have it set. It's a long story. Xiomara Gloriana Villanueva, I want to spend my life with you, and raise kids with you so will you marry me?

And that’s why it’s almost heartbreaking when Xiomara semi-rejects his proposal when she realizes she doesn’t want to have any more kids because she wants to spend the rest of her life doing things for herself. And I say “almost” because this is also a valid life choice, and Rogelio’s also is, and I applaud both of them for being so upfront about what they want.

This show tends to present Jane as the mature, level-headed person who had taken on the role of mother of her mom since a young age but to be quite frank, characterization has always shown otherwise. Jane might have been mature for her age when she was younger, but I feel she’s completely clueless. As she should be. She’s so young!

We were always told, from Jane’s perspective, that Xiomara and Rogelio were immature, sort of suffering from Peter Pan syndrome, never wanting to grow up and be mature, responsible adults. But what I’ve seen so far has proven the contrary? They might be silly and extravagant and prone to tantrums, but they are mature.

They’re probably the only reason I’m still watching this show?

30) I mean, when is Jane going to have sex, for fuck’s sake?

31) Ugh, no, she told her advisor that she needed to get someone else because what had happened was getting in the way of her writing and now he’s asking her out, and I’m here, like, NO. I don’t want this garbage.

32) So Rose’s back.. and she didn’t get a face change…

33) I gotta be honest, so far, Jane’s love life has been the least interesting aspect of this show for me. It’s been a season and a half, and I keep wondering when will it get interesting for me, you know? This is a rom-com, after all, but the rom part has been sorely missing for me, at least. I love Xiomara and Rogelio, mostly because I love Rogelio, but they don’t give me the butterflies I always get with my ships, so… *shrugs*

34) Hope you enjoyed my recap, and, as usual, if you’ve got this far, thank you for reading! If you enjoy my recaps and my blog, please consider supporting it on ko-fi.Thanks!

#Jane the Virgin #Gina Rodriguez #Jane Villanueva #Rogelio De La Vega #Petra Solano #Rafael Solano #Xiomara Villanueva #JTV recap #JTV 2x11 #mine

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hookaroo · 6 years ago

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Vocivore, Ltd. (32 of 41?)

Also on FFN and AO3 (ListerofTardis)

Tagging @ouatwinterwhump, @killian-whump, @sancocnutclub, @killianjonesownsmyheart1 and @courtorderedcake <3

***THE MOST WONDERFUL COVER ART BY @cocohook38 HERE!!!!!******

***Chapter 12 animation and art that will absolutely astound you!!!!!!!!!**********

***LETHAL Chapter 19 art in all of its BLOODSTAINED GLORY!!!!************

**POOR STABBED KILLIAN falling into the sheriff station! Ch. 7 & 23 art!!**

****KILLIAN AND HIS MASTER IN THE GORGEOUS CATHEDRAL!!!!!!!!!!!! CHAPTER 1 ART THAT KILLS ME EVERY TIME I SEE IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!*********

*****AMAZING AND ALSO HEARTBREAKING COVER ART!!!!! MY POOR BOY, HELPLESS AND SCREAMING WHILE HE SLOWLY LOSES HIS GRIP ON REALITY… D: COCOHOOK38 IS TRYING TO KILL US ALL!!!!*************

***AAAAHHHH!!! THANK YOU MY WONDERFUL COCONUT FRIEND!!!!!!***

Two days ago (continued)...

David. Detective Jones.

"Killian?"

His... the Master, watching, listening.

“Killian, it’s me. I’m here.”

His own blade flashing down, plunging into the prince's back, striking off the detective's chest. Smoke and flame, sparks of blue lightning, orders to kill growing stronger, overcoming his battered reason. That was then. Now…

“Can you hear us, Hook?”

Pain, that familiar companion, muted and fuzzy. And words half-remembered, half-commanded. The last thing he wanted to say, obliged.

"I must return."

The grating growl sounded almost as bad as he felt.

"I must return to my Master."

Did the ragged quality of his voice do enough to disguise his utter terror at the very thought? Or did his audience hear lack of conviction? How he would rather perish in that hospital bed than spend one single second more in the Master's presence?

Somehow, Emma managed to keep up a false front, even though she was undoubtedly just as tempted as he was to fling herself at him and express her love after such a long and difficult separation. The story demanded that she turn her questioning to the subject of their supposedly missing daughter. Killian displayed exhaustion and confusion: not much of a stretch, although the drugged haze did not let him forget the fact that they may be under observation. But when Killian reached up toward his throat, he was pleasantly surprised to find the dreadful collar gone. He and Emma could talk freely… if it weren’t for the crowd of onlookers surrounding his bed.

Emma must have shared his urgency to have a real conversation, for she immediately got to work bargaining for time alone with him. Fighting the persistent pull of narcotic slumber, Killian gladly allowed her to handle the details. Bloody hell, the pressure between his ears was intensifying, voices in the room sounding like they were being filtered through stacks of wool. His damaged stump pulsed with pain despite the drugs pumping into him; he vaguely remembered using it in battle and must have reinjured partially healed flesh inside. But the measured tone of Jones' voice alleviated a small amount of guilt: he would be in a hell of a lot of pain for awhile but would evidently make a full recovery.

Killian listened dully to the negotiations taking place. 15 minutes would be pushing things; 10 was nothing. But it might be his only chance, if bloody Whale insisted on more sedation afterward. Gods, that sounded like nirvana. The drugs would hardly even be necessary; Killian felt as if he could sleep for a month, and dammit, he did not have that kind of luxury.

“...Mr. Zombie Universe…”

That about summed it up. No matter that he looked the part; he felt even worse. While he was on some kind of opioid--he knew that for a fact--the simple act of breathing made some hurt or other fire up in a never-ending carousel of complaint. His arms were doing their blasted skittering again, and choking fog kept swirling behind his eyes. Getting up, he could maybe handle. Escape without alarm, doubtful. As for a long trek… back there…

Killian didn’t realize he was panting, tense and desperate, until Emma leaned over and began caressing his face. She placed a light kiss on the tip of his nose, whispering,

“It’s okay; they’re gone… Killian?”

Through the vise constricting inexorably tighter within his throat, Killian whined,

“I have to go back.”

He couldn’t open his eyes. He would see his wife there, fraught with worry and determined to detain him. Not understanding. And he would relent, and they would lose their only advantage, and all would suffer and die and it would be his fault for being a cowardly weakling--

“Killian, no.”

Choking back a sob, he struggled to detach himself from the fear. “My Mas… the… the monster, it… it’s starting to trust me, that’s why it sent me here, as a test, but it… it knows things, Emma, it can sense things and if I don’t return we’ll never have this opportunity again--”

“Rumplestiltskin lied to us.”

Emma’s quiet statement brought him up short, and he could not help opening his eyes then. An icy shiver of dread shot down his spine.

“Hope? Is she...?”

“No, she’s okay.”

He couldn’t even allow the automatic wave of relief, or his Master would feel it. Killian deliberately swung his bandaged stump against the bedrail, cringing as the spike vibrated within his flesh and ground glass pressed against raw nerves.

“Then what?” he growled. Emma blinked, started to reach for the injury, but grabbed his fisted hand instead.

“Your immunity. You were asleep, but they did an MRI, and Whale confirmed: you’re starting to show the same symptoms as all the others, the ones who…”

Who had died. All of them; they’d all died.

But it didn’t matter. If he failed his mission, the whole United Realms--hell, the whole world--would face that same fate.

“Bollocks. Whale is a damn fool; I’m completely fine.”

“I can hear you.”

He stared at her blankly, and she touched his shoulder.

“Did you forget? I’ve been listening.”

Killian swallowed, sickened by the reminder. The last thing he wanted to think about was subjecting his beloved to his torment. “Aye? What of it?”

Her lips tightened, revealing the struggle to contain her emotions. It’s so hard, she seemed to say. I can’t keep listening to you fall. Bleed. Scream. Suffer. “So you win his trust. Then what? You need to tell me that you have a plan. ‘Cuz I’ve gleaned exactly zero from this guy. And it has to be worth it.”

Killian drew as deep a breath as he could muster. He had to make this convincing.

“I do have a plan, Swan. And I’ll need your assistance to pull it off.”

“I’m listening…”

He thought for a moment, willing his sluggish brain to gather all of the pieces into a coherent thought.

“You… may have gathered that the Master feeds off of negative emotions in addition to the… the screams?”

Emma’s response was drowned out by echoing memories of his own cries of agony, trumpeting loudly in his skull. He hissed and pressed his fingers into his eye sockets, begging the noise to stop.

“You okay?” asked Emma quietly, full of concern. With a final shudder, Killian nodded. “I hate to rush this, but we’re running out of time.”

Mumbling as he massaged his forehead, Killian continued. “Well, it’s weakened by positive emotion--that’s why it sends its slave army to wreak random havoc. The worse the morale around its hideout, the stronger it gets.”

“Kinda got that already, when the bastard was sending you out on your mission.”

“Aye, well, suppose we could turn that to our advantage?” He lay his hand at his side once again, tremors causing his fingers to twitch uncontrollably.

“How? Even if we sent the most annoyingly cheerful and optimistic beings in the Realms, the guard slaves would kill them all before they ever got close.”

“Its camera network,” slurred Killian. An inexorable weight pressed down, the feeling of disconnectedness, of floating through half-reality with nothing to grip. His heavy eyelids at half mast, he struggled out, “Turn all camera feeds into positivity channels--uplifting music, comedies, silly cartoons and the like--at the right time…”

Emma managed to look simultaneously thoughtful and skeptical. “Defeat the scream-eater with laughter? Pretty sure I've seen that one.”

Killian shuddered. “How Pixar managed to come so close with that Waternoose fellow, I’ll never know.”

“Another one to permanently take off the Netflix queue?”

Killian restrained himself from reaching for her hand. He couldn’t allow the comfort, not now. His Master would sense it. “So? Can I count on you to arrange the details?”

“Tell people to add a laugh track to their home security systems… but without letting the cameras see.”

“Precisely.”

She blew out a breath. “Not difficult at all.”

“Remember, you’ll have the advantage of knowing when the creature is… occupied…” He smiled bravely, and perhaps the early stages of neurological degeneration could explain the quaver in his voice and the flicker of reluctance on his face.

“But, hold on, in the movie, didn’t the laughter produce more energy? For the… monster city or whatever?”

Shifting off of an intensifying throb in one hip, Killian squeezed his eyes shut in brief concession to the pain. “You, of all people, should know not to put too much stock in those things.” He worked to settle, to absorb as much rest as he could before it became impossible once again. “I’m certain it doesn’t work that way in this case. The Master has every reason to be forthright with its slaves. And it has been very clear about its need for negativity.”

“Okay, but… hell, why do you even have to go back? The camera stuff can easily be managed without you in the mix.”

He shook his head once. “It will have to be an exceedingly powerful dose to get past all of the despair the Master has cultivated in its slaves. Someone will need to tune each of the monitors to a positive channel, all at the same time. I managed to do some scouting last night; I think I know where its surveillance equipment is kept. And then, if the positivity isn’t enough... I’ll be there to finish the monster off.”

There was a beat, punctuated only by quiet beeps and the whir of the IV pump at his bedside. Then Emma grimaced.

“It’s a terrible plan. I hate it.”

“Aye,” he agreed. “I concur. But it’s all we have.”

He could tell she was thinking furiously, searching for alternatives, brain turning things over and over so fast it hurt. Her pained scowl could attest to that. He also knew the moment she gave in: her spine sagged in brief defeat before straightening along with a deep breath. Brave determination.

“It’ll work. It will. And then you’ll come back, and magic will come back, and I’ll be able to heal you.” She settled her hand along his jaw, her thumb stroking his cheek. “Promise me you believe that?”

“I…” He averted his eyes, unable to watch her face. “I dare not. Optimism is a dangerous thing to bring into the Master’s presence. I’m sorry, love. You’ll have to carry enough for the both of us.”

She did not speak for the longest time. But then she wrapped his hand in hers and gave it a tight squeeze. “Okay, Killian. Consider it done.”

He looked back at her, and saw that her eyes glistened just as much as his. Desperately, she lunged forward and possessed him with her kiss. And this one, he was allowed to feel. Because this was goodbye, and goodbye could mean forever, and that hurt so much worse than any stab of a knife or pinch of a claw ever could.

Emma was the first to break away. She startled back so fast that Killian sucked too deep a breath and found himself clutching sore ribs. Then he heard the faint buzz of her phone. She pulled it out of her pocket and read the screen with dismay.

“Crap, we only have like thirty seconds until the ten minutes are up. How are we getting you out of here?”

Killian’s sense of time was undeniably muzzy due to the drugs in his system; he would have sworn that no more than three or four minutes had elapsed. “You’ll have to stall them, Swan, unless you care to carry my unconscious self to the forest’s edge.”

Emma cursed again. “Pretend to be asleep.”

Well, that wouldn’t be too hard; the challenge would be remaining alert enough to pay attention to whatever she devised as cover. Closing his eyes, he settled back and worked to slow his heart.

He heard footsteps and then a quiet,

“How’s it going in here?”

Detective Jones. Emma sighed.

“Seemed like we were starting to get somewhere, but he was just so tired. I told him he could rest for a little while and try again later.”

One set of footsteps drew closer, and then the IV tubing lying across his arm was jiggling slightly.

“What’s that?” Emma asked casually, but Killian could detect a note of alarm.

“Dr. Whale prescribed a sedative,” explained the nurse, and Killian cursed inwardly. Maybe it really would come down to Emma having to carry him out.

“Hold on a sec. Please? Could you come back in, say, an hour? He’s sleeping without it right now, and I need to be able to wake him up in a bit to finish his questioning.”

“This isn’t like anesthesia,” soothed the nurse. “He’ll have periods of wakefulness still; it just helps him to sleep more soundly.”

“Yeah, but… he’ll be… super drowsy when he is awake, right? Couldn’t that make it harder to think clearly?”

The nurse paused. “I’m sorry, but it’s doctor’s orders… he's really most insistent.”

“Would one measly hour make that much of a difference?”

During the long silence that followed, Killian waited with bated breath, trying to continue the charade of slumber. Finally, the nurse said,

“I can give it IM, which takes longer to metabolize. He’ll get the required meds, and you’ll get your questioning time.”

“Thank you.”

“I’ll be right back--have to get a different needle.”

Killian heard her shuffle away as the IV swung to a halt. He felt Emma brush her hand along his arm, probably in silent apology. The drug would complicate things, for certain, but wouldn't truly be anything his Master would be suspicious of. It knew of his capture, and probably even his arrival at the hospital. It would likely be pleased at his escape and return, even if he did have to collapse and sleep it off halfway back to its lair.

“Has he said anything of value?” wondered Jones.

“Well… not really. Nothing we didn’t already know.”

“I’m sorry.”

Gently, trying to appear as if she didn’t want to wake him, Emma wriggled her hand beneath Killian’s. Then she sighed.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, Detective, but you look awful.”

Killian heard a familiar, rueful breath of laughter.

“Who would believe that nearly all of it could be attributed to that man there?”

Emma snickered back. “He’s a fighter, that’s for sure.”

Over the sound of the nurse’s returning footsteps, Emma added,

“Look, I appreciate the support, Killian, but you don’t have to stay. Go home; get some sleep. I’ll pass on any information I get here.”

The nurse folded back the blanket covering Killian’s right leg, and he growled faintly in feigned, sleepy annoyance, while truly wondering what the hell she was playing at. When she’d said ‘IM,’ he’d been expecting a jab in the arm. Meanwhile, Jones was responding to Emma’s suggestion.

“Thank you, Emma, but I’d like to stay. An extra set of ears can sometimes make all the difference in a case like this.”

Emma was thinking furiously; Killian could tell. Startled by the cold touch of an alcohol wipe on his outer thigh, his grumbling flinch was not at all an act.

“Sorry, Killian,” murmured the nurse. She pinched the muscle with one hand, adding, “Quick little mosquito bite, and you can go back to sleep.”

Emma squeezed his hand in solidarity, placing the other hand on his shoulder in a comforting manner. The long needle stung his thigh, the sedative drug forming an aching pool within the muscle.

“At least go have something to eat,” Emma urged Jones. “I’ll call you and you can listen in if he starts talking.”

Plucking the needle from Killian’s throbbing leg, the nurse spread a Band-Aid over the sore spot. “All done.”

While she rearranged the blankets, Emma asked casually,

“You wouldn’t happen to have a couple extra Band-Aids with you, would you? I've got some hangnails annoying the hell out of me right now.”

“Lemme see… yup, here you go!”

“Thanks.” Emma’s hand left his shoulder, presumably to take the proffered bandages.

“I’ll be back in probably an hour to check on him,” promised the nurse. “In the meantime, if you notice anything unusual, don’t hesitate to press the call button.”

“Okay. Thank you.”

She bustled out of the room, taking her damn needle with her. Emma patted Killian’s shoulder in sympathy.

“Suppose I might at least get something to drink, if I can manage my wallet with numb fingers.”

Killian could hear the sheepish smile on Jones’ face as he said the words, and he tried not to cringe. He’d done his best not to injure the other man too severely, but still felt remorseful about what had been necessary.

“Good luck,” Emma replied. “See you in a bit.”

As soon as Jones’ footsteps had retreated, Emma sat back with a sigh. “Well, that sucked. Sorry, Killian.”

Killian stretched gently and dragged his eyes open, blinking. Emma winced at him.

“Are you still going to be able to make it?” She seemed to be doing what he was: acting as if they didn’t know anything about what lay in store for him at the end of his trek. He nodded unenthusiastically. In truth, if he ignored the drug side effects, he actually did feel stronger than he had in weeks, which he credited to whatever volume of replacement blood he’d received so far.

“Hopefully at least beyond the point of rediscovery.”

Emma pulled back his blankets. “I’ll do what I can to put ‘em on the wrong track.” She reached into her pocket, retrieving her keys. “Why don’t you take the Bug? You’ll get farther. Just… you know. Pull over well before you start to fall asleep.”

Fighting the sudden chill, Killian accepted the keys as he gathered the strength required to swing his legs over the edge of the bed. His head was spinning alarmingly and he wondered for a moment whether he would need to reassess the distance he had in him. Emma studied the machine controlling the flow of donor blood and saline into his arm; after a moment, she was able to decipher how to pause its program. Setting aside one of the Band-Aids she’d begged off the nurse, Emma reached for the tape securing the catheter to his forearm. Then she stopped.

“Emma?”

A sudden sob ripped through her; she put a hand to her mouth as if stifling a cough. She couldn’t look at him.

Grim, Killian glanced a the door. “We don’t have a lot of time, love.”

She scrubbed at her eyes with one hand while picking at the corner of the tape with the other. “It’s… it’s just different, you know? Talking about it versus actually doing it. Actually helping you ditch the hospital and go back to--”

Choked by another sob, she didn’t finish the thought. Killian reached up to clasp her wrist briefly before allowing her to continue to work.

“I know.”

She managed to get one side of the tape undone with the minimal amount of arm hairs as casualties. “It just feels like… if you don’t come back… this is me, killing you, right now. Taking out this IV that could be saving your life, it’s just the same as…”

Emma shuddered, and Killian knew she was picturing that awful night with Excalibur, on the banks of the river. How it felt to run him through with her own hands. As if trying to purge the memory, she violently stripped the remaining tape from his arm, pulling the catheter right along with it and spattering small droplets of blood everywhere. Killian sat passively, allowing the outburst. For the moment.

In anger, Emma crumpled the sticky tape and tossed the wad onto the floor, then used the bedsheet to scrub at the smear of blood gathering around the puncture site. She tore open a Band-Aid and pressed it in place with a shuddering sigh.

“Don't be concerned about the silly IV; my good friend Z seems to have an unlimited supply of the damn things.”

It wasn’t about the IV, of course. Nor even the concept of proper medical care as a whole. Killian pulled his arm away from her attempts to apply pressure over the Band-Aid and reached up to stroke her face. The rough brand scar on his palm caused a tiny wince from her as it brushed her cheek.

“It isn’t you,” he murmured. “It won’t be you.”

Silent, she watched his face. Unconvinced. Unplacated. She pressed his hand deeper into her flesh and raked him with her gaze, as if burning his features and new, unfamiliar scars into her memory. He saw the moment of surrender. The light left her eyes and they became cold, tired points of vacuum. Outer space without stars. At last, her voice came through the death mask, low and flat.

“Why us?”

A shade above bitter, Killian said,

“We’re the heroes.”

A somber, unsurprised nod, and then Emma was back in motion. But with inexplicable intent. Killian couldn’t contain the elevating eyebrow as she shed her jacket and prepared to lift her t-shirt. She waved her hand in vague explanation.

“I don’t know how most of this crap works. But if it turns off suddenly, or loses input, it might alert the nurse’s station, and we don’t want that, right? So we switch, as fast as we can. Hopefully we can set it up reading me, and they’ll think you just rolled over or something.”

Glancing down at the EKG leads attached to his chest, Killian’s skeptical expression didn’t change. “And I’m meant to have thought of this myself, am I?”

“You’re smarter than you look.”

He missed the normal playful tone with which she would have teased him. But she was still stiff, heartless, carefully on guard. Ready now, the t-shirt rolled up and tucked under her chin but with her arms still in their sleeves, she sat beside him. Testing the slack in the wires, she took a breath and frowned in concentration.

“Lemme do it,” she instructed quietly. “You just keep an eye on the door.”

Killian nodded and did as ordered, but watched out of the corner of his eye. Emma dug her nails beneath the first EKG lead, and he knew she was attempting to take as much of the sticky conducting gel with it to ensure a solid connection. She paused to estimate the proper placement on her own chest--right in the center above the sternum--then brutally ripped the pad off of him and slapped it on herself. The loss of a few chest hairs left stinging patches behind as Emma repeated the process twice more. Successfully, by the sound of it: the machine behind them beeped a couple of queries as the transfer took place, but no obnoxious alarm rent the afternoon stillness.

“Not bad, Swan,” Killian praised. He ducked out of the way of the gathered leads while Emma adjusted her shirt back down and checked the monitor for functionality.

“The question will be whether I can stand pretending to be unconscious until someone discovers me.” Emma reached up, unclipped the pulse oximeter from his earlobe, and clamped it onto her own. She made a face. “Think I prefer the fingertip one.”

“Aye, well, it does tend to get in the way when one has only five fingers at one’s disposal.”

The last piece of equipment was the blood pressure cuff, which was easy enough to slip off and then adjust to fit her bicep. And then Killian was free.

He stood with appropriate caution, but still nearly fell--twice--as vertigo, generalized weakness, and drug side effects played havoc with his balance. Emma watched with clenched teeth, no doubt struggling with the urge to tackle him and wrestle him back into bed, the rest of the world be damned. But she contained herself, he clung stubbornly to his equilibrium, and they were again faced with the reality of the moment. Cautiously, Emma got up, holding the EKG sensors in place. She assessed him briefly, cracks in the emotionless mask allowing both tender concern and raging terror to leak

“You gonna be okay, hiking in that?”

Killian glanced down at his gown with a shrug. “It’s no worse than the sackcloth.”

“And… your feet? What about…” She trailed off, and against his better judgment, Killian stepped forward and wrapped her in an embrace. For the sake of his Master, though, he kept his mind on the goodbye, on his concern for Emma. On that disturbing mantra. Hope kidnapped, Hope tortured, Hope dead... Muffled into his chest came the words they both dreaded:

“You’d better go.”

Emma was dry-eyed and tight-lipped as she stepped back from him. He turned toward the window. And neither of them said what was foremost in their hearts.

I love you.

#ouat fanfiction #killian jones #emma swan #wish realm killian #hospital #injured #transfusion #injection #sedation #deception #angst #not really a cliffhanger but doesn't resolve the one from last week either sorry #Vocivore ltd #medical nonsense #just go with it okay?#hehe

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teahlouresha · 5 years ago

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Care & Feeding of the INFP

INFP: The Healer

The most helpful thing to understand about INFP is that they are first and foremost deeply introverted. They are also incredibly sensitive. Some vast majority of their cognitive energy is spent simply feeling their feelings.

And they have so.many.feelings.

This is actually quite a lot of work on an energetic level, and can be exhausting for the INFP, particularly for INFPs who haven’t developed skill or comfort expressing themselves, because then basically their whole life is happening inside their heads. The INFP is private and guarded naturally, so even the well-developed INFP is often reticent to express their deepest feelings. When they do, it would behoove their partner to lean in, get comfortable, and listen carefully. The INFP will clam right back up if they feel remotely judged, criticized, or unheard, and it will be a long while before they try again with you. (If they ever do).

It is not uncommon to find INFPs who habitually isolate themselves or push people away, often because they had negative relationship experiences in the past or even just because they fear negative experiences. (Remember they are extremely sensitive, so deep emotional wounds can take a long time to heal). A wounded INFP will protect that rich internal landscape with the tenacity of a pack of junkyard dogs. Admittedly, these self-protective INFPs are hard to build relationships with, but it is not impossible with patience, time, and practical affection.

And I will add here that it is entirely worth it, because any INFP is a wonderful partner when you really snag one. They will give you all the space and understanding you need, a quality that is especially valuable if you’re a big, weird extravert who struggles to find a partner who accepts you fully. An INFP will embrace your idiosyncrasies willingly; in fact, they tend to prefer “weird” or unconventional people. And once they trust you, they actually like it when you encourage them to get outside of themselves. They can be hilarious, silly, fun, playful partners. They can be wonderful performers and storytellers, in part due to their rich imaginations. They are also great with kids, in part because they are somewhat childlike and innocent themselves. They do well with bright, optimistic, cheerful, peaceful, steady, independent partners who are undaunted by their dark spells.

Because INFPs (even under the best of circumstances) are prone to dark spells, depression, and self-pity. They are very hard on themselves and prone to feeling guilty or ashamed and getting stuck in cycles of feeling this way. And they will usually withdraw when they are hurt or overwhelmed. It’s just how they are. So a partner of an INFP has to learn to curb the urge to draw them out forcefully, because it won’t work. They will actually be most likely to dig their heels in and retreat further if you try to force them to open up when they don’t want to or aren’t ready. That said, they do need your encouragement to come back from the dark side, especially if you have done or said something to contribute to their shutdown. You will need to gently inquire as to what’s going on with them, and what you can do or say to make it better, and wait patiently until they are ready to talk to you about it.

I know that sounds confusing.

Here’s another way to say it: a small amount of withdrawal isn’t a thing to fear from your INFP partner; in fact, it might be necessary for their well-being. This is mostly because there is so much going on inside of them all the time and so few outlets for it that sometimes they need to just check out. Sometimes they need you to just leave them alone for a while, and let them work through whatever they’re working through. But there is also a point at which you may need to go in after them and drag them back out to the light. Again, if you have done something (even unintentionally) to hurt them, you will need to make it right somehow in an authentic way before they will be able to come back to the relationship fully. It is worth reiterating that they are extremely sensitive to criticism, and they take everything personally, so you may not even know you’ve done something harmful until they tell you (IF they ever tell you). The worst thing you can say at this point (and I’ve definitely learned this one the hard way myself) is a dismissive or mocking “How could that possibly have hurt your feelings?” which suggests they are hyper-sensitive and being a baby. Even if they are, they don’t want to hear it, and it won’t go well. So, a better way to say it is: “Okay, I’m sorry that what I said/did hurt your feelings. Thanks for telling me. What could I have said/done differently?” or “I don’t ever want to hurt your feelings, so please tell me what I can do to make this right.” They appreciate a genuine effort to understand them and their feelings, so this is always your best bet.

It is somewhat ironic that INFP is so likely to withdraw, because it costs them the connection they need to keep them steady. They have a contradictory combination of desires: equally desiring connection and safety and freedom. Please remember that no matter how much they love you or feel connected to you, you simply cannot fence in an INFP without encountering a great deal of resistance. The balance is in being there for them and showing care, but also permitting them space to roam and be the lone wolf they often feel they are. Don’t take this to mean they don’t care about you or that they don’t even need you to some extent; they do want to feel like you are there, you are present, you are reliable. They need to trust you to be there when they come back. The more times you are still there when they return, the greater the trust can grow. The fact that you will end up with an utterly devoted INFP is worth all of this effort. (I promise.)

It can be frustrating for the partner of an INFP to know that there is a rich inner atmosphere, but that most of what is going on inside the INFP either can’t or won’t be translated. It can be doubly frustrating if you often sense that your partner is daydreaming when you’d like them to be present with you. You may have to remind them fairly often to come back to Earth. They might have been thinking nice things about you, but you wouldn’t know it, because all you know is they aren’t talking or opening up.

So, if you are a person who needs a great deal of positive reinforcement, you will need to ask for it, and your INFP will have to make a conscious effort to meet that need. It can be interpreted by a sensitive partner (especially an NF partner who measures the quality of the relationship in this way) as deeply selfish (even though INFPs usually do not see themselves as selfish or self-centeredand would rather die than harm you) that they often fail to provide the affirmation their partner may need. Especially ironic given that INFP needs so much positive reinforcement themselves. It is partly that the INFP is so internal that they forget they have to actually say words, and it is partly that the INFP just thinks you should know how they feel.

It is also simply that INFP can get rather awkward trying to explain how they feel. If your INFP has a hard time telling you how they feel, but you really want to know, it can be helpful to ask them to write things down. They can be reticent to say words out loud, but write beautiful love letters or poems full of all the emotions you wish they would or could just show you in real life.

(Side note: INFPs are excellent songwriters, artists, musicians, etc in part because of all these feelings; it is important that somehow or another they find a positive outlet for all their feelings. Generally, they love and are deeply moved by music and words. Like, sometimes to tears. One way to connect with your INFP is to share songs and books with them that you love, or that you think they will love, and then talk about it.)

INFPs are very slow to make decisions, and can benefit from a partner who is more decisive than they are. They actually tend to appreciate bossy or Type A people. Some of this is that they really don’t care about a lot of things and are pretty easy to please (like that classic “What do you want for dinner?” conversation. They will usually say, “I don’t care, you pick”, and they do actually mean that. They actually do not give any shits what you have for dinner, and will probably be happy with anything you choose.)

Part of it is also that they have a hard time making decisions, most often because they have conflicting desires and will take all day weighing the options. It’s much easier sometimes to just let someone else decide things. That is the neutral impact of this “slowness to decide” thing.

The negative side of this can be that they’ll stay at jobs or in relationships far longer than is reasonable, even when everybody around them knows they need to make a move, because they are so terrified of making the wrong decision. They worry that they will screw everything up. And theyhate hurting people. (Not that anybody “likes” it, but INFP will do almost anything to avoid hurting anyone’s feelings, even to their own detriment). They are perfectionists and they feel terribly guilty if they feel they have caused someone pain or harm. So, they carefully (too carefully, one might say) consider all the possible options and outcomes before eventually (forever) coming to a conclusion.

Hmm. What else? Other positives, lest you be scared off: INFP is very accepting of quirks. One of the most accepting of all the personality types. They generally don’t mind accommodating a partner who has strong opinions or strange tastes. They won’t bat an eye at your needing to have ice creamright this minute, even if it’s zero degrees outside or the middle of the night. They won’t laugh at your awkward dance moves, or criticize your cooking, or make fun of your OCD tendencies, or argue with you when you want to reorganize your sock drawer for the third time this week. You can be obsessed with any weird stuff you want to. They accept that you enjoy ____ activity that is the nerdiest thing on Earth. You be you, kid. Generally, an INFP partner/friend will completely accept your strange cravings, desires, conversational topics, interests, weird outfits, kinky sexual proclivities, everything.

Almost invariably they’ll be like, “Okay, that’s fine. Whatever makes you happy.” Live and let live, that’s how the INFP rolls.

…UNLESS/UNTIL you violate one of their deeply held values. Then, look out: they will get argumentative and stubborn and totally irrational and they will fight to the death. And forget logic; logic has nothing to do with this argument. Because principles. Because you are wrong and here’s why.

(Later they might see how they were a little extreme. Maybe. You’ll learn the things that aren’t worth arguing about, and avoid those topics.)

But generally, if you give your INFP space and understanding and room to be their own weird introverted self, INFPs in relationships are peaceful, amicable, and easy to get along with. Generally, they don’t ask for much. They don’t criticize unless it seems necessary. They are low-maintenance. They will love you the most, for loving them, seeing them, appreciating them, and letting them just be themselves.

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alexteltevskiy · 6 years ago

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Why I take photos

Hey everyone, how’s it going?

I’m back. Been taking a break from social media this past year. Recently moved to SoCal from Chicago and was busy settling in. Also, I took this time to step back and look at where I’ve been and where I want to go with my photography, as well as how I present it online.

I’ve got a lot of fun new content planned and will slowly start rolling it out. Meanwhile, to make up for my lack of updates, this post is chock-full of awesome photos and interesting thoughts on photography. Climb aboard and enjoy the ride!

Throughout this past year I continued taking photos, but I left social media entirely, feeling that it was becoming a bit too much. Too much of a time investment and mental drain, researching & following, using all those silly hash tags… Too much attention being eaten up by a constant bombardment with a never-ending flow of imagery. Too much bots, too much spam & too much noise. Too much “for the likes”. Too much stuff I couldn’t care to care about anymore. Instant gratification and desensitization were the new norm. Even the quality stuff didn’t matter anymore. I knew it was time to jump ship.

But I did miss the things that were actually good about it. There weren’t that many, but still… I knew that it was only a matter of time before I plugged back in again. And… here I am. Meanwhile, my sabbatical allowed me the luxury to think about my photography from the ground up, and think I did. In this post I’d like to share with you some of the fruits of all that thinking: I’d like to share with you the 10 reasons why I take photos.

1. Exploration & adventure

Photography allows me to explore new, unfamiliar places, as well as see the old and familiar places in new light, over and over again. Back in the olden days I used to call it a “Passport to adventure” (pardon the cheese). And I still feel that way.

Nothing else gets me out the door as quickly as a camera and a fresh new roll of film, and not much enriches a life more than travel.

2. Meeting people

Meeting new people is always fun. It’s a life-enriching experience and helps one feel connected to the greater world. It’s not always easy to connect with strangers on the street, but a camera usually helps break the ice in more ways than one.

Since many of my interests lie in old mechanical objects, having a vintage camera with me actually sparks a lot of conversations to happen entirely by themselves. And at the end of the day, 9 out of 10 people actually feel honored to be able to tell their story and have their picture taken.

3. Family and friends

I don’t need 691 snapshots of what we ate for breakfast every year. I need just a few quality photos that are engineered to stand the test of time and will always bring back the fondest of memories spent with my family and friends.

Quality photography, where I put in the time and effort to make each shot count (ahem, film, not pointing fingers, ahem). It’s rewarding and it makes my relationships feel that much more special (sorry for the sentimental cheese).

4. Recording milestones

Speaking of family and friends, the moments that we cherish most are the ones that deserve their own dedicated photo shoot. Being a photographer transcends into being a historian and keeper of family history and even tradition.

“Production values” are high, trips are planned, adventures are had and lasting memories are made. Photos serve as testament to us and the big advancements in our lives - a big move, getting married, having children…

5. Fueling curiosity

To be curious is to be human. It’s what defines us as a race that’s able to advance and grow. There would be no fire, no wheel, no semiconductor and no landing on the moon and (gasp) no Instagram.

Taking photos for me is a continuation of that fine tradition of discovery. I see, I like, I take a photo. I obsess over the photo and object that lies herein. I learn more about it, wiki-ing about the design decisions on that olive green ’67 Cutlass or the impact of that historic Main St. movie theater on the town or how surfboards are shaped. Or why the moon is sometimes red. Or why Dingbats have such a funny name.

Photography helps me learn more about my world. Always a nice thing.

6. Imagination exercise

Every once in a while I’d take a photo and it would entertain my mind in many not-so-obvious ways. Could happen with a picture perfect landscape or a failed Holga long exposure. It would mysteriously linger in memory for a while, prompting repeat viewing. Often times the effect would be immediately after seeing the photo, other times it would surface years after the fact.

I would be drawn to the photo, get lost in it, imagine myself in it. All sorts of metaphorical thought would crawl into the picture, all sorts of things would form in the shadows and bubble up. Sometimes nostalgia would paint the skies a dull yellow and I’d feel warmth in my toes that I haven’t felt since 17. Sometimes at night, the skyline of Port of LA turns into Port Town from F-Zero and at midday, the sand dunes on the beach turn into a romanticized version of early 20th-century Arabia.

Humans are visual creatures, and photos have the power to play all sorts of tricks on the interplay between imagination, memory and all the 5 senses. Photos help me tie my mindscape together.

7. Giving back

It’s only natural to want to share with the world something that you truly, honestly love!

Photography is a craft that has lots to do with understanding fundamentals, repetition and learning from your mistakes. It also has lots to do with many other things that are not so immediately obvious due to the exceedingly esoteric nature of what makes or breaks a good photo. Not to mention that there’s a very complicated technical side to photography as well, film or digital...

The answers to all of these come with time and experience, and as always, with a little help from our friends. As such, it’s always a humbling and enjoyable experience when I can offer my friends a little help of my own, based on my personal experience and observations.

8. Experimentation and happenstance

Photography has always been about experimenting - seeing what works and what doesn’t. Every time I try something new I am faced with fresh and, dare I say, invigorating challenges.

Sometimes I learn something cool that I’d like to continue doing (redscale or Pen-o-ramas). Other times I find a format that completely changes the kinds of shots I’d do for long stretches of time (half frame or a 6x9). Or I would find a camera so unpredictable that I wouldn’t know how the shot will turn out at all (pinholes, Holgas, solarcams, old soviet cameras, etc).

In the world of film photography, there is absolutely no shortage of film, formats, cameras and techniques to try out. We have, after all, more than a hundred years of photographic legacy to fall back on and tinker with. It keeps things interesting and the perspective - fresh.

9. Getting lost in the moment

This is a big one, especially with film photography. A craft so diverse and expansive that condenses down to a singular moment when the shutter goes off. There’s so much to love, so many details to enjoy.

Starting with the obvious - not having to chimp or preview the photos and being limited by a scarce, diminishing resource (film) allows more time to bask in the surroundings and bond with the moment rather than just keep popping off the camera like a machine gun. Waiting for the moment (or setting up the shot), anticipating the scene, watching it all come together. It’s meditation.

The gear, so varied and spanning such a breadth of generations, each with its own intricacies, procedures and character. The mechanical, tangible nature of control manipulations. It’s all very tactile and ASMR-ish. Come on, all you Leica fans out there - tell me you don’t go through an elation every time that cloth goes sssssshwick, haha )

10. Feeling the passing of time

Photos are like a quality wine - they get better with age (I actually don’t know if that’s true, but that’s how the saying goes). A lot of photos we admire today were received completely different when they were first presented to the world. We look back at the photos from the 60’s, 70’s and go through a portal to that time. How people lived their lives, where they lived, what they drove, how they had fun. It’s all put through the context of history. Same goes for movies, music - any cultural item.

It’s important to understand that your photos, if you choose to keep them around for that long, will be viewed many decades down the line and will offer a glimpse into those times. Viewers from the future will look at the cars and marvel at how people got around in these dead-dinosaur-powered vehicles, or how everyone on the street was stuck staring down at tiny glass screens, or even the fact that the very photo they’re looking at is static, isn’t an immersive 3D experience and has limited resolution.

Things get especially interesting when the photographer himself is the subject of the photos...

11. Cars

Wait, didn’t I say it was 10 reasons? Well, there’s always room for cars! Awesome, timeless automotive examples, each with its own personality and style. As they say, there’s always room for cars...

Conclusion

Sorry if that was too wordy! A lot of reasons, huh? And everybody will have their own… That’s the beauty of this thing called photography - everyone makes it their own. Hopefully this post presented you with some interesting food for thought, or maybe inspiration for your next photo project. Thanks for reading, everyone.

Stay awesome!

#film photography #analog photography #filmisnotdead #ishootfilm #film #fujifilm #kodak #35mm #120 #4x5 #believeinfilm

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