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tomuras · 30 days

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| Verbatim |

Pairing: Dottore x Reader

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, Smut, Reader has a penis, Dottore goes by He/Him pronouns, Reader goes by No Pronouns, Dubcon, Anal Sex, Enemies -> to Lovers, This all takes place in his lab, Reader is one of his assistants, Handjob, Reader says ‘Stop’ at one point, 1.9k words.

A/n: This is probably the most personal thing I’ve written. I want to preface this by saying I wrote this to experience some sort of gender euphoria/ease some dysphoria I am having. So, please keep in mind that while the reader goes by no pronouns, and isn’t explicitly said to be trans, that reader is very much written through the lens of a trans person. With that being said I do not mind whoever reads this, all I ask that you please be respectful about it. Thank you <3

Summary: As Dottore’s assistant you’ve had your eyes on him for quite some time. You’ve done well to keep it a secret for a long time, but suddenly you find yourself acting recklessly due to your impatience.

Tagging: @auphelia @themovingcastlez

“Dottore?” You asked, hand clenching the beaker and trying your damnedest to not break it by accident.

“Hmm?” He hummed, not even bothering to look up at you.

You sighed, growing increasingly more hot with each passing second. “Stop what you’re doing right now.” You demand.

He stopped looking into the microscope in front of him, but not because you told him to, rather because he was so appalled you’d act as you did..

He scowled at you. “Excuse me?”

You shrink for a moment before gathering the courage to respond. “Dottore, I want.. I want-,” you struggle to get the words out as brave as you try to be.

“Spit it out.” He started to get impatient.

“I want you!” You blurted out the words without realizing, shame flooded your body as soon as you had realized what you’d just done.

He stared back in disbelief, his face growing red with embarrassment. Not only was he embarrassed but he was angry.

“I want to fuck you.” You said with lust filled eyes.

He was taken back, he didn’t know what to say. He placed a hand on the counter behind him and leaned back, almost as if he was trying to back away from you.

“That’s not going to happen. We both have work to do.” He explained, but you weren’t letting up.

You walked a few steps towards Dottore and leaned in close to his face, your lips merely an inch from his as you started to rub his groin. “Please? I need you, Dottie..”

He swallowed hard as he felt himself get hard as you slipped your hand down his pants and had begun to touch his cock. You made sure to touch all his most sensitive parts, stroking him nice and slow before rubbing your thumb against the tip. He gasped at the sudden sensation, his body felt as if magma was running through his bloodstream. Dottore hated how you knew just where to touch him. Fuck, how he despised you with ever fiber of his being. He loathed you, was repulsed by you, and even with all that being said he couldn’t help but buck his hips into your hand.

“Come on, I know you want it, you’re already so hard for me. Just give in already.” You purred against his lips.

“Fuck you.” He spat, nearly moaning on his own words.

That only spurred you on further, though. You started to grind your cock against his leg as you continued rubbing him gently. You started to go faster as you continued to thrust your hips against him, letting out soft whines as Dottore looked down at you in disgust. He hated how he couldn’t move, wouldn’t even fight back. Although even he couldn’t deny the heat growing in his stomach, every touch sent him further and further over the edge. Had it been anyone else and any other situation he would’ve done something, but he couldn’t stomach the idea of the pleasure ceasing to exist even for a second.

He moved his hand to push you away, only a little, but you were quick to grab him by the wrist and force it back.

“N-No, let me.. Let me fuck you.” You moaned.

Dottore pulled away for just a moment before he was swiftly flipped around and pushed down against the counter.

“Careful, my patience is running very thin.” He warned.

You wasted no time in pulling down his pants enough to push yourself inside his hole, steadying yourself with a hand on his lower back.

“Ohh, fuck that feels so good.” You moaned.

The sudden intrusion caused Dottore to grip onto the counter, hissing as you slowly started to thrust in and out of him. You were already getting ahead of yourself and fucking him at an even faster speed than before, getting rougher with each thrust you made. You take one of your hands and wrap it around his waist and push yourself against his back as you fuck him. Your hips roll against his ass as the both of you are groaning in pleasure. Dottore has half a mind to put you in your place, but even he couldn’t deny himself like that. He enjoyed it, the feel of your cock dragging along his walls.

You bit your lip and carved your nails into his plush skin, throwing your head back with a loud moan as you felt that heat begin to fill up in your gut. Quickly you increased the pace in which you fucked him, now having both hands on his hips as you drilled into him. Not caring about his pleasure you lost yourself in your own high as the thread finally snaps. You let out a strangled moan as you feel yourself release inside of him. You kept him pressed tightly against you so he had no place to escape. Dottore squirmed in your grip, wanting to be let go even if it was a nice feeling. Loosening your grip you move one of your hands to hover over his lower back, pressing it down slightly as you start to fuck in and out of him at a painfully slow pace.

You watch your cock become covered in your own cum, breathing heavy as you see the white substance leak out of his abused hole. Already you could feel your desire return, you wanted more, whatever he was willing to give up you needed it. You pulled out momentarily to take some time to catch your breath, but before you had the chance to push yourself back in you were grabbed by Dottore and flipped around, switching positions with him suddenly.

“W-What are you?” You had begun to ask, but he was quick to shut you up.

“Quiet.” He replied sternly.

You wanted to question him, ask him what the fuck was going on in his head, but he went straight into it. With your back against the counter your cock stood upright, touching Dottore’s hard on just enough to make you go crazy. His tip was red and leaking with pre-cum, a sign that he must’ve wanted this just as bad if not more than you. Taking his large hand Dottore began to wrap it around both of your cocks, squeezing them gently as he jerked both of you off. You gasped at the sudden feeling. The sensation was heavenly, like nothing you’d experienced before. Already you could feel your confidence fade as your hand covered your mouth to suppress your pathetic whimpers.

Dottore ripped your hand away from your mouth.

“No, I want to hear you.”

You opened your mouth as if to gasp but no sound came out. Instead you started to silently cry, feeling warm tears stream down your cheeks as Dottore started to stroke both of your cocks faster and faster. He kept this up till you were arching your back and crying out his name. He smirked as he drank in the sight of your body writhing in pleasure. It sure was cute seeing how the once confident image of you had been shattered and turned into the image of you he’d grown accustomed to. Soaking in the sight of your hips rolling and back arching as you cried for him to stop, but both him and you knew better than that. You didn’t want it to stop, not for a single second. If anything that just gave him the go ahead to keep going.

“S-Stop, it’s- it’s too much!” You cry out, tears falling on your hot cheeks.

He chuckled to himself as he began to grind against your cock, rubbing in the pre-cum leaking from both of your tips. Your bottom lip trembled just moments before he kissed you, slipping his tongue past your lips as he stroked both of you off. His hands were soft, just the thing to send you over the edge at long last. When you finally released yourself all over not just yourself but him as well, you found yourself moaning into his mouth and clawing at his back. Pure electricity enveloped your body as both of you desperately bucked your hips to milk each other of every drop of cum.

“D-Dottore.. Fuck, that feels amazing.” You cried out, clinging to him in pure desperation.

“Shh, I’m here.” He spoke those words reassuringly even as they’re thick with condescension.

You don’t care, only worried about how amazing it felt for his cock to rub against yours until you both eventually grew soft. You lean back against the counter, barely able to hold yourself up as Dottore went to get a fresh cloth to clean you both up. Your pants are down to your knees and you make eye contact with Dottore as he wipes the cum off of you. He’s gentle but still you hiss in pain, the overstimulation caused more harm than you expected. Thankfully, it’s done before you can even think twice about the pain. Dottore looked you up and down and then grinned slightly just before he pulled up his own pants, then helped you with yours. Something about looking at him as he did that had done something to you that you couldn’t quite put into words. It was truly mesmerizing.

“So..” You start, feeling the awkwardness in the air.

He jerks his head towards yours and glares at you.

“No.” He snaps at you, running his hands through his hair before adjusting the rest of his clothes to look more presentable. “Don’t even think about telling anyone about this, either.”

You rub the back of your head nervously and try to look the other way, but instead you only made awkward eye contact with a segment who had just entered the lab.

“Geez, way to be harsh, Doc.” You joke, trying to make light of an extremely uncomfortable situation.

He didn’t say anything or seem to acknowledge what you said but you could tell by his stiff demeanor and his hand that trembled that he was anything but unaffected by what had just happened. You started to walk your way over to the counter where you joined Dottore with what you were previously doing before everything escalated. The silence was deafening and even with the obvious way in which it affected Dottore, you couldn’t help but wonder whether he cared at all. You thought to yourself about whether or not he felt the same way during everything. Did his heart pound incessantly, an irritating pounding in your chest? Or was it an empty casket waiting for a body that’d never come? Whatever he felt he made damn sure he kept it to himself, and something about that truly disturbed you. Maybe, you pondered, perhaps things could be different in time. Perhaps all you had to be was patient and above all, persistent.

#dottore x reader #dottore x you #dottore x y/n #genshin x reader #genshin x you #genshin x y/n #dottore smut #genshin smut

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wordholic · 7 months

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longing is the place of exile

pairing: aerin valleros x f!mc

summary: Aerin and Aria return to the Deadwood and confront their feelings.

note: rated G but there's some mentions of mc's experience while being held captive in the shadow's realm (such as valax taking mc's blood). wc: 3.9k. takes place around ch5. i wrote this solely because i wanna smooch his little face. and also i wanna study him under a microscope

comments and reblogs are always welcomed <: (tagging @choicesficwriterscreations ) ao3 link

Aerin had always had, in his mind, a plan for jailbreak.

Sure, yes, siding with the Shadow Court, threatening a priestess' life, and committing fratricide made life imprisonment a somewhat sound punishment, but he wouldn't be caught dead resigning his years to a dingy, run-down prison tower. He'd much rather spend the rest of his life hiding from guards and living in shadows.

Over the year, the plan had grown from a mere idea to an intricate web of schemes and back-up plans, as well as back-up plans for those back-up plans. In fact, if he hadn't been dragged out of the depressing cell to go on an 'adventure' with Morella's heroic saviors, he probably would've broken out in a month or two.

Well, that was in the past anyway. Right now he found himself craving (for the first time) the cell’s creaky cot and undisturbed silence– gods, the silence–

Imtura's thunderous snores seized the moment. With a stifled groan, he rolled over, facing the crackling campfire.

The group had been forced to spend the night here in the Deadwood after a long day of trekking and fighting off monsters. While the notion of resting was pleasant at first, it soon proved to be difficult. It's a miracle any of these people managed to fall asleep, Aerin thought as he got on his feet and planted a step on the dry forest floor–

ZAP. A savage pain jolted up his leg. He cursed under his breath and stumbled back onto the ground, temporarily paralyzed by the sting assaulting his muscles. He'd forgotten all about the barrier Tyril had set up around his tent. He might not be behind bars, but he was still a prisoner.

"Aerin?"

His head snapped up. Immediately he caught Aria staring at him from the other side of the fire, partly startled, partly suspicious. "What are you doing?"

Something compelled him to put on an act, so he did, spreading his numb leg out and positioning himself in a way that wouldn't show how much discomfort he was in. "I find it impossible to fall asleep in a place like this."

Aria shot a knowing glance in Imtura's direction. A lopsided grin crept up to her lips. "It does take time to get used to that."

"Glad you agree. My solution was to go for a walk, but…" he gestured vaguely at the space around him. "That is also impossible."

She nodded. Then he realized that it was much stranger that she was awake as well. "And you? Don’t tell me you’re still not used to that."

"Please, that snore is nothing to me." She cast a meaningful look into the dark woods beyond the camp. "There's just… a lot on my mind, I suppose. I was going to take a walk myself."

Their eyes met once again. A silent understanding was passed, and after some contemplation, she added, "You should come with me."

He made a doubtful hum. "Should I? I mean, it's the middle of the night, and your friends here think that I'm a ticking time bomb. You're not scared some harm may come to you out there?"

To his surprise, she smirked at the mere idea. "We'll be safe from monsters as long as we don't make much noise, plus we both know you're no match for me. And to answer your question, I'm not scared of you, even if it's against my better judgment."

She came to a full height before him, limned by the dancing fire behind her, and he held his breath.

"After you," she said with a flourish, motioning outward. "My advice is to stick to the right side."

Still skeptical, Aerin stood up once again and took a cautious step, this time leaning toward said side of the opening. Amusement took over his expression as he made it out without being electrocuted.

"I don't suppose your mage friend made a slip while casting my shield?"

"...Let's just say I have more trust in you than all of them combined."

With that, the two set off at a leisurely pace, Aria illuminating the path in front of them with a wooden torch and Aerin waiting for the right time to break the silence. All around them, crickets chirped in harmony. The air was dry and still. Lifeless trees were shrouded in pitch black where the flame couldn't reach, concealing whatever dangers lurked within them.

It suddenly seemed less of a good idea to be wandering around in the dead of night, but at least… Aerin debated with himself. At least they get to spend some time without everyone else keeping their watchful eyes on him.

"So," he started, stealing a glance at the back of her head. "A penny for your thoughts? Specifically those that managed to keep you up after a whole day of toil."

Out of the corner of his gaze, he could see her trying to tether her emotions to the ground, but the flash of trouble was unmistakable. It seemed that he wasn't the only one putting up a front.

Just as he thought she was going to ignore him completely, she shook her head. "I'm worried about the others."

"Is this about the extremely depressing moment you guys had earlier?" The question escaped him.

Aria shot him a withering look before returning her attention to the road, but it was enough to confirm his suspicion.

A year ago, the five of them had been formidable, no doubt drowning in glory and praise, victory and pride. They'd been Morella's newest legends, the ones who managed to pry off the Shadow Court's icy, greedy grasp. They still were, at least that's what Aerin believed, but time had passed. It was as Aria had pointed out: they were tired and still hurting from grief. They'd gone different paths, too. They might've managed to find their rhythm with each other before, but things had changed, and it's not easy to recreate the same picture with new puzzle pieces.

It wasn't anyone's fault but time's, but he could still see on her shoulder the impossible weight of responsibility. The world was hers to save again, and this time she also had her companions to stress over. If there was one thing that hadn't changed, it would be the worry etched between her brows.

Though he supposed that she couldn't have changed much, given that she'd been captive the whole time.

He chewed on his lip, this time threading his words delicately. "If you don't mind me asking, what exactly happened when you were in the Shadow Realm? I mean, I know the gist, but Mal said that you'd mostly slept through it, and I seriously doubt that."

Aria swallowed hard. He wondered if they were thinking about the same thing– the barren, devastated land, the despair and hopelessness permeating the air.

Somewhere off in the distance sat a lonely log. They took their time heading towards it and sat side by side, shoulders brushing against each other in the newfound proximity. This close, Aerin could properly observe the wavering flame burning in her eyes and the way it painted shadows across her countenance.

She was every bit as beautiful as the day they'd met, and he could never tell her that.

"Mal was right, I was out cold for the most part… but I still remember what happened," she started. "I remember the room they kept me in, the leather straps bound around my limbs. I remember regaining consciousness every once in a while and feeling devastated when I saw that I was still stuck in the same place… that no one had come to save me.

"Usually I would wake, and then Valax would come and take my blood until I passed out again. The cycle went on and on. I was no more than a helpless prey waiting to be slaughtered. There were times when I thought that I was going to die there, that one of those days I would slip into unconsciousness and that would be it. I was going to die in another realm, away from my friends and Kade."

Her posture slouched as she recounted the past, head bowed as if trying to fold into herself. There was a noticeable tremble in her hands, and Aerin would give anything to be the one to hold her close and tell her she was still alive and safe, except he didn't have the right. He hadn’t even known about her abduction until just a few days ago.

"Even worse was the nightmares. There were horrors when I was awake and horrors when I was asleep, and I was always alone in my dreams. Sometimes I would see Tyril and the others, but they'd be wrong. They were cruel and vicious, and it was either that they did terrible things to me, or that I'd have to do terrible things to them. Those dreams terrified me, and I was always drenched in sweat when I woke up.”

Nightmares were not new to Aerin, and if he had to be honest, the 'creaky cot' and 'undisturbed silence' never did help much. He hadn't had one good night's sleep since he'd been defeated, not when he knew that he was doomed to be a prisoner, a traitor, a monster for as long as he breathed, and probably long after he was dead too.

And if he did manage to escape confinement, who's to say that he'd be safe from those affiliated with the Shadow Court and wanted his head on a spike? And now he was also against the Ash Empire, no less. The stakes had only gotten higher.

The point was, he knew how the mind could turn into your worst enemy. That was probably why sitting next to Aria and adventuring with her after all this time felt surreal to him– because she was always different in his dreams. Sometimes cold and unforgiving. Other times hurt and broken. But never as… genuine and honest as she was now, heart on her sleeves and all.

She suddenly laughed, trying futilely to dispel the gloom with a shake of her head. "I'm lucky I forgot everything that day; otherwise I wouldn't have been able to make my escape. But these memories have a way of returning. They’ve been surfacing from time to time, haunting my mind."

Her shaky fingers were clenched around the cloth on her lap, and Aerin knew that any one of her companions could take her hand and have it mean more than a thousand words from him, but they were alone and he couldn’t bear seeing even more hurt color her features.

So he reached out and wrapped his arm around her, and when she rested her head on his shoulder, his heart shuddered.

“It’s like the whole world’s moved on but I’m still stuck here.”

“I know what you mean.” He whispered, recalling all the times he’d sat by the barred window and strained his ears for the sounds of the outside world. “…I wish I’d known earlier what happened to you.”

She scoffed good-naturedly. “So what, you could escape from the luxurious prison and come save me?”

"Sure, maybe I would've figured something out."

Aria said nothing to that, lost in thoughts. Then, with a start, she tore herself away and restored the distance between them, brows tight with a thousand unspoken thoughts. "Whatever. It's all in the past now."

Aerin had a feeling she wasn't just referring to the kidnapping.

As silence draped around them, she let the strong, determined mask slip over her face again. The whole day both of them had been hiding behind false pretense.

"Wait," she craned her head, frowning. "Do you hear that?"

"Hear what?"

She raised a finger, prompting him to keep quiet, and he rolled his eyes.

A beat later, she stood up and grabbed the torch. "There's water nearby." She illuminated the foliage around them and began following the general direction in which the branches and scarce leaves were bent. Aerin scrambled to his feet and followed suit.

"Should we be wandering even further out?" he asked.

She merely shrugged. After a few minutes, it became apparent to him that she was no longer a stranger to the road she was taking. The twists and turns she took were concise. Something had clicked in her head.

She'd been here before.

And so had he, as he soon discovered.

They'd managed to find their way back to that fateful lake. It was precisely as he remembered– glimmering with an abundance of magic, casting whimsical hues on its surroundings. The moon managed to reach down through the grotesquely crooked branches to shine down on the water, specking it with starry sparks. For once, the air smelled like something other than depression and death. There was sweetness in every breath he took, courtesy of the dreamlike flowers that bloomed along the shore.

"Just how I remember it." He bent down to rub a smooth, roundly shaped leaf between his fingers. "We did have some good time here, didn't we?"

Aria rolled her eyes so far back that she probably strained something, but he didn't miss how she crossed her arms stiffly, eyes darting around as if desperately looking for a distraction. "If by 'good time' you mean playing me like a fiddle, then yea. We sure did."

Hurt bled back into her face, and he angled his own away before it could crack his facade. He knew hiding behind snarks was never going to grant him the olive branch that he wordlessly longed for, but it was still tenfold easier than asking for the impossible– her forgiveness.

Yet still, what she said wasn't true, and he couldn't let that become her impression of how that night went down.

"I know how this sounds after everything I've done, but I wasn't trying to trick you that night."

Her expression was evasive. Unreadable. "What were you trying to do then, if not to bribe my trust?"

"Nothing," the response was immediate. "There was no ulterior motive, Aria. Everything I said was true, and everything I did, I did it out of my heart."

He wished that he'd been a better man. Maybe then he wouldn't be standing where they'd laid their souls bare, trying desperately to make her understand. What good would it do if she believed him anyway? A criminal and a villain, he was never destined to be anything more than a footnote in her story. He could never force his way back into her life, let alone attempt to heal her wounds when he'd been the one to wield the knife.

But she was the only soul who ever truly saw him as he was, and she'd been the person he'd wanted to hurt least in his grand schemes, despite how little that meant now. He just couldn’t let his feelings go unspoken.

Finally, she lifted a tentative gaze to him. He could see the exact moment her armor shattered. The slightest bit of hope crept into her expression, and it quickly seeped beneath his ribs as well.

"I can't trust you when there's still so much I don't know, Aerin," she says quietly. "I've been trying to understand why you joined the Shadow Court. I had a hunch that your family played a part in your decision, but the picture's still hazy."

The memory of his family was an ache that he actively avoided. He still felt rage gnaw at him when he thought of all the ways they disregarded him, and he’d be lying to say that he regretted the way the Blade of Shadow protruded from his brother’s chest. He did what he had to do.

He drew in a deep breath. It'd never been easy to broach this topic, but if he'd managed to open up at this same lake with the same person a year ago, maybe he could do it again.

"Fine. I'll tell you everything." He took a seat on the soft grass and patted the spot next to him. Shortly after, Aria followed suit, quietly encouraging him to go on.

So he did. More than two decades of neglect and belittlement came tumbling out, as well as the shadows that lurked in the corners of his dreams, beckoning him to the other realm, promising him all the power he needed to change the world.

"Most people were so preoccupied with getting on my brother's good side that they didn't realize what a bleak future awaited Morella if it was to fall into his hands, and for the few that weren't busy singing praises, they cared too much about their status to speak up. Anytime I appealed to the court, they shot me down like I was some babbling kid. Eventually, I reckoned that no one was going to take me seriously."

"I'm guessing that's where the Shadow Court came in?"

He nodded. "They promised me power, and my brother would've plunged Morella into a living hell. I thought…" He balled his hands into fists, staring narrowly out at the tranquil water. "I thought I could finally get everyone to see things my way."

"Even if it meant sacrificing the lives of innocents? Even at the cost of my friend?" Aria speared him with a look, and he averted his eyes.

"...It was my only option, and I was willing to take it."

She turned away, seemingly mulling over his words. Now that the truth was out in the open, a weight had been undoubtedly lifted from his mind… but the bitter taste of guilt lingered. The sins had been committed. There was no undoing the harm he'd done, regardless of how noble the cause might've been.

When she spoke again, her voice was barely a whisper. "Have you ever had second thoughts?"

"I suppose I have," his mouth curled into a bittersweet smile. "The whole time we were walking along this lake, I was lamenting our ill-timed meeting, even more so when I welcomed you at the palace. I couldn't stop wondering how things could've changed if we'd met sooner…" He trailed off, realizing himself. With every thread of memory unspooled, the defense around his heart was crumbling piece by piece. "Though I suppose there's no use dwelling in the past, is there?"

"I supposed not, but we still have the future ahead of us. You can still do better. Make up for what you've done."

That stupid, innocent hope crawled back again, yawning in his chest, pushing away all the doubts that'd been plaguing his mind. "You really think so?"

He held his breath as she reached out and placed her hand atop his. Her skin was calloused from all the tireless fighting, but it was warm and familiar. It was only when his hand instinctively turned over to grab her fingers that he realized he'd underestimated just how much he missed her.

In return, she gave him a brief squeeze. It lasted only for a split second, but he felt as though it could ground him. "I know so."

Tranquil as the night was, the space around them felt tight all of a sudden. There was a tingle in his hand that longed to graze her skin, a tightness in his throat that threatened to spill whatever softness he'd been burying inside him, and he knew that he should look away before his face said something he couldn't take back, but it was impossible to do so when violet and turquoise waves were rippling across her features, highlighting the longing the mirrored his own.

His heartbeat was going so fast, he was surprised it was still safely contained within him. My heart still beats for you, the confession died on his tongue. Did he even have the right to say something like that, after all this time?

At first he thought that he'd imagined her lilac eyes darting down to his lips, but then she leaned forward imperceptibly, boldly. Her other hand, trembling, came up to hold his cheek.

"Are you sure?" Was all that he could muster in that closeness.

"I'm sure."

Her eyes drifted close, and she slanted her lips against his.

It was sweet and cautious, but enough to light up every nerve in his body. Whatever resolve that'd been holding him back dispersed as her tongue swept across his lower lip, and he readily parted his mouth, tilting his head to deepen the kiss. He untangled their hands and moved to cup her neck, relishing the way her pulse quickened under his thumbs.

The tension lining her torso melted away as he tipped her head back, letting whatever that was unutterable to him spill into her open mouth, desperately and eagerly, with the likeness of a man starved of oxygen. He'd spent the better part of the past year dreaming (and resisting to dream) of having her this near again, and it was even better than anything he could've imagined. She was here and real and smelled like home, even though he had never understood what the word meant. Her fingers were tangled in his curly hair, drawing from him noises of contentment with each tug, and he couldn't help but trace his hands over the contours of her body before coming to a rest on her lower back, praying silently that this moment would stretch out forever and ever.

The moment ended eventually, as all things did. Face flushed and out of breath, he pulled away and dared to glance at her.

There was the slightest hint of hesitation behind her glossy eyes, like she was replaying in her head what'd just happened. Suddenly, with her face a breath away from his, he had a feeling he was back in the Shadow Court's macabre throne room again, holding her at knifepoint, feigning indifference at her bruised and crestfallen look.

Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe he was right in believing that there was no way she– or anyone, for that matter, would give him a chance again, let alone forgiveness.

A defeated sigh interrupted his racing train of thoughts. There was a wistful smile that Aria couldn't quite fight back as she knocked her forehead softly against his, letting their breaths swirl together.

"I just can't seem to listen to reason when I'm around you," she murmured, gaze downcast. "But I do trust that you can walk a different path, Aerin. Not to mention…" her next words came out in a hurry. "I can't do all this… saving the world business without you."

He couldn't help but chuckle, his heart thumping like a gavel inside his chest. "Feels like the world’s always depending on you."

This time her smile went all the way, reaching every corner of her face, crinkling the corners of her eyes. "What can I say? I am a hero." She shrugged. "I guess what I'm trying to say is… I need you to stay with me. No matter what comes, we'll figure it out, I promise."

His heart squeezed at the confirmation; he wasn't as damned as he thought he was. She'd still have him, even as he was. The yearning in her eyes was a living thing, and after all this time, what was he to say except yes, yes, I will stay with you?

So he brought her knuckles up and pressed his lips to them, like hot wax making its mark, like a prayer, a promise. "I'm not going anywhere."

#blades of light and shadow #bolas 2 #aerin valleros #aerin x f!mc #bolas #sie writes #playchoices #mine

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multimilfs · 1 year

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Mother Miranda x Fem!Reader: The Line Between Mercy and Affection

Summary: You're growing bolder in your role as Miranda's assistant. When invited to attend a meeting of the Lords, this could prove enlightening... or painful.

AO3

A/N: This is part 2 to 'A Taste of Mercy' so if you haven't read that, you should probably hop back and do so! I'll do my best to reformat the masterlist to properly outline the series, but if it's difficult to understand, I've also included the ao3 link.

Tag List: @ghostsunderstoodmysoul @multifandomfix @escapetodreamworld

Warning(s): Blood, Light torture

Part 1 of what keeps us close, yet so far

“Mother Miranda?”

The Goddess doesn’t look up from her experiment when you address her. Her eye is glancing down the stalk of a microscope, carefully following whatever lies on the slide below. Her wings flutter and move behind her every now and again.

“Hm?”

“What is my… role at this meeting?” You ask timidly.

As she looks up, you look down, pretending to write something important on the parchment you hold. You’re scribbling words and phrases in romanian. Her gaze is intense on your face. Try as you might to will away the flush rising in your cheeks, your body wins out.

You can never replicate the same cold distance Mother Miranda maintains. You have no doubt it’s taken ages to perfect; though you have no idea how old the Goddess is—you value your life too much to ask—a mature wisdom rests behind her blue eyes.

“Your role.” She repeats. Though she doesn’t phrase it as a question, you know it is one.

“Yes, Mother Miranda,” You start softly, before meeting her eyes. The corners of her mouth are turned down. You square your shoulders, doing your best to summon confidence, “You’ve never allowed me to join a meeting of the Lords before. I don’t understand what use you see in it now.”

Her wings stop moving.

You try to keep your gaze from falling. Mother Miranda despises cowardice, but she loathes disrespect. Walking the line of her expectations often feels thinner than that of a tightrope. You have yet to fall. Still, it doesn’t keep your heart from nearly jumping from your chest each time you toe the line too closely.

Microscope forgotten, she rises and appears before you in an instant. You drop your eyes out of instinct. Mother Miranda makes no effort to change your position.

Her voice cuts through your chest like a blade, “Do you know what happened the last time someone questioned my judgment, little human?”

Too afraid that your voice will fail you, you shake your head.

“I removed his tongue and fed it to him.”

She says it casually, as if it were a comment on the weather or notes on your experiments, instead of something to make you question your mortality. You have no doubt that she’ll take your tongue in the same way if provoked. She’s fond of making examples, you’ve noticed. It makes you shudder.

Were it someone else in your position… you wouldn’t bat an eye at her choice of punishment. You would even revel in the curious way she enacted her punishments, though you hated to admit it. She had a monstrous grace about her.

A finger beneath your chin makes you jump. The metal of her talons scrapes against your skin, though not unpleasantly. You allow her to lead your gaze upwards. She’s swift with punishments usually and you have no desire to prolong your own.

You open your mouth to her.

Her eyes widen for just a moment. It’s only a split second; quick enough to make you question if it truly happened. Then to your surprise, the corner of her mouth tilts up. You try to stomp out the pleasure it ignites in your chest.

You’ve never seen Mother Miranda smile, this is the closest she’s come to it. It’s a sick kind of joy that you derive from her pleasure. You’re so willing to curate this reaction, just to see it, even if it means spelling out your own demise.

Mother Miranda’s fingers grasp your tongue, the talon on her thumb digging into it. Even as blood fills your mouth, as tears flood your eyes, you watch her face with rapt attention. You watch her smile. You don’t want it to drop away from her lips.

You swallow down the mouthful of blood and saliva, the metallic tang irritating your throat. Your whole mouth aches. It would be merciful for this to end, but you don’t dare expect anything from your Goddess. She acts as she sees fit and you’re content to let her continue that way.

She releases your tongue a few moments later.

“You’re useless to me mute.”

Waving a hand, she motions for you to leave the room. You waste no time in following her command. She has you trained well..

—

Glancing between the Lords, it is a wonder to you how your behavior could be considered disrespectful. The meeting has been derailed by pointless squabbling nearly a dozen times in under an hour. All the while, you remain silent, watching in a muted sort of horror.

You can’t begin to piece together how they accomplish anything.

It had begun the second Mother Miranda entered, you following at her back. The Lords had been stunned into a moment of silence before Lady Dimitrescu spoke first. You tried to ignore the effect her words had on you as she practically purred them. Even now, they still play over again in your mind, creating a coiling feeling in your stomach.

“How kind of you to bring such a morsel with you, Mother Miranda.”

Where your eyes had been focused on the floor, carefully measuring your steps behind the Goddess, you glanced up at the Lady’s words. You couldn’t breathe when you met the eyes of the Countess. There was a sly smirk across her lips, a twisted warmth in her eyes. You couldn’t help but feel enamored with the woman. She was easily one of the most beautiful women you’d ever seen, a perfect, warm opposite to your Goddess.

But her smirk had vanished the second Miranda’s eyes cut to her. Her wings had tensed, a sneer crossing her mouth. You could feel the temperature drop when the Goddess ordered Lady Dimitrescu to keep her impulses to herself.

An odd feeling lodged in your chest when the smirk fell from the lips of the Countess. Something brief crossed behind her eyes, beautiful as they were, before they settled on you. She was quickly distracted as Lord Heisenburg proceeded to badger her.

You can almost perfectly recount the way the Lady’s face twisted in an intriguing display of anger, when something closes sharply around your ankle, “Ouch!”

Though you’re sure your Goddess is speaking, you have no idea what is saying as she stops. Her eyes turn to you. Everyone’s eyes turn to you.

A bout of maniacal laughter comes from near your feet. Sitting there, wooden mouth clasped around your ankle, is Angie—Donna’s doll. You try to shake your leg, kick out to remove her. It only makes you hiss as the joint of her mouth catches your skin.

Mother Miranda is before you when you look up. She levels a look into your eyes before she reaches down, digging her claws into the back of Angie’s neck. The doll releases your leg to complain and fight against her hold. Miranda’s eyes don’t leave you as she tosses Angie away, the doll landing on her feet and scampering back to her maker.

Then her attention is gone, “Control your pet, Donna.”

Mother Miranda resumes her speech, but all you can focus on is the throbbing of your ankle. You glance down to see a pool of red blood dripping from the wound where Angie’s joint caught you. The heat of a gaze makes you look up.

You’re not surprised Lady Dimitrescu focused on you.

Her eyes slide down to your wound, pin-point pupils focusing on the slow drip, drip, drip of your blood. She looks back up at your face before turning her attention back to Mother Miranda. The attention—and subsequent lack thereof—leaves you feeling impossibly warm.

The meeting continues, though you struggle to listen to any of it. Lady Dimitrescu and Mother Miranda seem to take turns making you the center of their attention. You’re left hot and cold by the trading of their stares.

Mother Miranda levels you with a knowing look, accusation in her eyes—You’re not listening. You greatly fear what would happen should you continue the way you are. So you will yourself to listen, ignoring the way Lady Dimitrescu’s stare makes you want to melt. Ignoring how you’d much rather lose yourself in the eyes of these two women.

It’s an impossible task, but luckily you’re capable of making it possible.

You latch onto what little you know; The Cadou and its capabilities to create life–or rather, pervert it. The distinction is neither here nor there. Mother Miranda explains the proper conditions for the Cadou to take root for what she requires; and it goes without saying that your research together is the reason the conditions are understood. Every Lord in the room can read between the lines and it takes a lot to stop you from preening.

“I’ve found a suitable host for my plans,” Mother Miranda says and you nod, before stopping. She didn’t tell me that, your mind whispers, “In a few weeks I’ll be pursuing them. Until then, I need every preparation to be made for my return.”

The words ring through your chest, bouncing off the walls of your heart. You should be thrilled Mother Miranda has found a host. All of your hard work is paying off, but you can’t stop wondering where this leaves you. In a few short weeks you’re of no use. Mother Miranda will release you back into the village, back to a boring little life without so much as a thank you.

You continue to jot down notes, but you have no idea what they say. You barely hear the words beyond remembering to write them down for your Goddess. Useless, your mind pokes and prods, you’re going to be useless. The thought hurts more than the idea of dying at the hands of your Goddess. At least then you’d have her full attention for a few more moments.

So caught up in your mind, you fail to notice when the meeting ends. Your body remains perfectly cold. Not even the gaze Lady Dimitrescu offers as she leaves can warm you. It isn’t until Mother Miranda addresses you that you come back into your mind.

“Your thoughts are very loud, little human.” She notes.

Mother Miranda walks to your side which gives you pause; in all your time working with the woman, she’s never walked. She appears in a flutter of wings or moves in the span of a blink. You watch her moves warily. The wings at her back are perfectly still and you can’t decide if that is good or bad.

“I apologize, Mother Miranda.”

Your apology goes ignored. Her eyes square in on your still-bleeding ankle, wings twitching at her back. You make no effort to stand from your chair and she stays standing above you. She begins to move before seeming to think better of it. If you didn’t know any better, you would think she intended to kneel. Instead, she holds out a hand.

You lift your leg and offer the wound to her. She examines it as she examines everything–with a cool, critical eye. You watch her as you always do–with barely restrained admiration.

“Spilling your blood was not the goal of this meeting.” Mother Miranda says. She rubs the flat of her palm over the open wound, collecting the blood there. You watch as it disappears from her hand. Her actions feel strangely like an apology, a fact that makes you squirm.

“I should hope it isn’t the goal of any meeting, Mother Miranda,” You speak before you censor your mouth. Eyes widening, you rush to correct yourself, “but I wouldn’t dare to question your will.”

“And why not?”

“You… You’re a Goddess. Your will is divine.”

“You believe Gods are incapable of making errors?” She asks slowly. The way her eyes focus on you makes you overly aware of every move you make.

“I’ve never thought about it before,” You answer honestly, “I never believed it was my place to question higher powers.”

Though it's the truth, you fear uttering it. You’ve been reprimanded for far less in your life. And with a being like Mother Miranda, it is impossible to tell if you’re pleasing or disappointing her with such honesty. Though you hope to believe it is the former.

Her eyes trace the planes of your face like she’s never seen them. You allow the action, though confusion takes root in your chest.

She changes the conversation like nothing was shared, “Donna lacks control over that doll. I have half a mind to remove the damned thing.”

But I won’t, the words lay thick in the air. You want to ask why. You want to ask her a million questions, but keep your mouth shut, lest you toe that thin line again. Except… your curiosity over one detail eats at you, until you force words from your lips.

“The doll holds a piece of Lady Beneviento, is that correct?”

She nods.

“Is it not right to believe that Lady Beneviento lacks control over herself, then? If Angie is an extension.”

“My wings are a piece of me, but they exist and act outside of me. It isn’t enough for Donna to control herself. Angie may be a manifestation, but she has sentience apart from her.”

“Almost like a child.” You add.

A flicker behind your Goddesses eyes gives you pause. It holds something eerily similar to pain, but you can’t imagine anything touching her in such a way. You want to know more, but don’t dare ask.

“Yes, like a child.”

“I see.”

And for once, you do see.

You understand how her mind works for a split second. It is enough to leave you intrigued, eager for more. Mother Miranda is cruel, of course, but doesn’t lack fairness. She may punish the parent for the actions of the child, but she won’t punish the child for the shortcomings of the parent if she can help it. She… cares, in a small, confusing way. You’ve never known her to care for anything beyond her experiments.

When you meet her eyes, you can see a softening around edges you once believed to be hard. She is just as much woman as she is God. Mother Miranda seems to sense this change in your thoughts. You can’t stop seeing the softness even as she distances herself.

She lets your leg drop and turns away, throwing over her shoulder, “Come along.”

You stand to follow, your chest warming at finding your wound healed.

#mother miranda #mother miranda x reader #resident evil village #resident evil village x reader #re8 #resident evil 8 #mother miranda imagine #resident evil village imagine #wlw #wlw imagine #jan2023 #multimilfswritings

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blainesebastian · 2 years

Text

best friends

words: 5,502 ship: austin butler x reader summary: (request from @killerqueenfan ) Reader and Austin have been friends for years since they were teenagers. They are very close and the reader has been in love with Austin for years but keeps it a secret to not mess up the friendship. (read more about this prompt here) notes: masterlist on my sidebar! I so enjoyed writing this--I think this might be one of my favorite ones :) thanks for the request! warnings: none tag list: @karamelcoveredolicity, @elizabethrosecresswell

Here’s the thing about being in love with your best friend: it’s easy to ignore in a handful of ways. At some point you just begin to form a list that talks about all the points in which you remind yourself why it’s a bad idea to even cross that line. It outweighs the pros, by far, and after a while you stop second-guessing your decisions.

Right?

Maybe it’d be easier if it wasn’t Austin Butler, you think about that a lot.

When you were teenagers, it didn’t really matter, you were both nobodies who hid out in the tree house that your mom helped your dad build when you were seven and snuck just-baked cookies out of the kitchen to eat until you were sick. In high school, you’d hide out up there to smoke and drink and sleep, even though Austin’s long and gangly limbs were beginning to be too much for the small space.

1. He sees you as this dorky kid from middle school with braces.

You two have been there for one another through everything under the sun, good and bad on both sides. Losing family members and going to proms, that cross-country driving trip that seemed like such a good idea at the time until the car ran out of gas, first pets and first kisses, terrible boyfriends and stuck-up girlfriends, countless of auditions and callbacks for films and television shows that sometimes worked out and other times didn’t, interviews for your own work and the possibility of moving away and Austin promising the long distance could work if it needed to.

You never told him that there was no way you could leave him.

2. Telling him how you feel could ruin your friendship.

The Elvis process has been interesting to say the least, you always knew that Austin would do great things but you never knew it’d take so much of his time and effort. Two complete years, closed off from anyone he’s known and cared about, perfecting a craft to bring an incredible story to life. You can’t be prouder of him, but that time apart had been hard to live with, for both of you.

Seeing him afterwards and hugging him, his arms folding you into his chest, nothing has ever felt more like home.

And you think you fell in love with him a bit more each day you were apart. Absence makes the heart grow stronger.

Or forgetful.

There are moments where you convince yourself that Austin could be without you, that some people are only in your lives for seasons, that he’s been met with so many different and new experiences that he won’t need you anymore.

And yet he playfully calls you babe and kisses your forehead when he says goodbye, and says I love you and means it.

You’re just so sure it’s not the same way you say it back.

3. If you lose him, you don’t know what you’d do.

You’re incredibly close, that’s something that’s always been in place. And no matter what Austin goes through, personally or career wise, he makes sure to loop you in. He doesn’t forget about you, which you appreciate because you’re not always sure where you fit in when it comes to his life. You of course have a life of your own, but you’d be willing to carve out any shape necessary to fit him.

He's busier and busier lately and no one deserves it more than him, but finding time is continually a problem. He invites you to events, as his date, but the concept of so many eyes on you is overwhelming. Austin’s made your friendship with him pretty well known, but that doesn’t make the spotlight or the constant microscopic scrutiny any easier.

Sharing your best friend is just something you’re not used to and you don’t see that changing any time soon.

4. He’s got way more important things to worry about.

The list goes on and on.

It’s just…strange how things change, and how fast. One minute you’re convincing Austin to trick-o-treat with you when you’re nine and he’s twelve and you want to get the most candy absolutely possible and now you’re cradling your cellphone between your ear and shoulder as he tells you all about this red-carpet event he went to in Hollywood.

New York feels very far away at that point.

“I can’t believe you spoke to Brad Pitt, let alone were in a movie with him at one point.”

Austin laughs, the sound warm and affectionate against your eardrum and it makes your stomach clench a little. “Was I supposed to pass on the eighth grade love notes?” He teases, “I forgot.”

“Shut up,” But you’re smiling. “…still have those in a shoebox, by the way.”

“Did you update them this year?”

God, he’s the worst. “Maybe.” Humming under your breath, you can hear the soft trill of traffic patterns behind him and you wonder what he’s up to tonight, what sort of Hollywood parties he might be headed to. You take in a deep breath, the silence between you both not uncomfortable but practiced over the years.

If you close your eyes, you can almost picture him in your kitchen just hanging out drinking coffee or lying on the couch together putting on another episode of a cooking show where Gordon Ramsey yells too much. Almost.

You miss him something deep, where you can feel the ache crawling up your chest and threatening to swallow you whole.

“You doin’ anything tonight?”

You scoff out an amused noise, moving towards your freezer to pull out a pint of chocolate ice cream, “Oh yeah—headed out to a bar, might do some shots, table dancing,” You grab a spoon next, “You know, the usual.”

Austin is quick, “Pint of ice cream and your couch?”

Popping open the lid, you scrape a spoonful off the top. “Okay, no judgements from you—not all of us have a Hollywood party to attend to every other night.”

He laughs softly, “First of all—no Hollywood A-listers tonight, second, it wouldn’t hurt for you to go out every so often. Show your pretty face.”

You snort, spooning ice cream into your mouth. You wonder if you have chocolate syrup… “Who am I supposed to do these dingy bars with?” Raising your eyebrows, you wait a moment, “That’s best friend territory.”

“Alright—I can agree with that. So what’s stoppin’ you from goin’ tonight?” Sometimes it’s so wild to think about how much his voice has changed over time, not that you’re complaining. The deeper timbre really works for him.

You groan, tipping your head back, “Austin—” And there’s definitely a slight whine there.

“What?” He chuckles lightly, “Seriously—like right now.”

And before you can say anything there’s a knock on your door.

You blink, turning your head towards the front door a moment, mouth opening and closing because…no, it can’t be. He’s supposed to be in California for at least another week, just some…bad timing and wishful thinking. You clear your throat, moving towards the door.

“Think the Uber Eats guy is at the wrong apartment again. Maybe I’ll keep whatever it is because the last time it was French fries—”

Throwing open the door without checking the peep hole, Austin is there, in the hallway, slowly pulling his phone away from his face with a soft smile. “Not French fries.” He confirms and you just kinda stand there for a moment, staring, not quite believing what’s in front of you.

It doesn’t take long before you’re rushing out the door, two steps forward before throwing your arms around his neck. The force of your hug makes Austin have to take a step back a moment, a laugh leaving his chest as he wraps his arms around your back. He squeezes you as you bury your face in his neck and breathe him in, holding on like he might evaporate like vapor between your fingers.

Eventually you know you have to pull back, let him breathe, let him step inside your apartment—which you do but you can’t believe you’re sniffling like a sap, smile so wide on your face that your cheeks hurt.

“What are you doing here?” You choke, wiping your face with the sleeve of your sweater.

He laughs gently, moving inside the apartment with you, the door closing behind. He cups your cheek, removing tear tracks, “It’s your birthday in a few days.” He says it like it’s obvious but…you never actually expected him to fly back for that. In all honesty, you were ready to celebrate it with your parents, a few other friends, call it an early night. It’s barely been on your radar though and you never expected anything out of Austin with how busy he is.

“You didn’t have to—” And you’re suddenly so overwhelmed with emotion because you missed him, you love him, and he’s come back all this way just for your birthday.

“I wasn’t gonna miss it.” He says, holding your gaze. And God, not that this isn’t startling, but he looks so good. A pair of black jeans and those cowboy looking booties he loves to wear, a blue denim button down and a black jean jacket over top. Simple, clean lines but easily handsome.

You sigh, moving to hug him again around his waist, easily melting into his chest and resting directly under his chin as if you were always meant to be there. One of his hands tangle in your hair while the other strokes up and down your back and you breathe him in, that familiar scent of sandalwood and something distinctly Austin.

It’s quiet for a few moments, the pitter patter of his heartbeat along the shell of your ear.

“Of course, you know this means we’re goin’ out tonight, right?” He says

You groan a little, the sound muffled against his chest—but you can’t find it in you to really complain.

You have to admit, when you step out of your bathroom in a pair of black jeans mixed with an iridescent mesh shirt overtop of a bralette, you take a bit of pride in the way Austin looks at you. He’s become bolder over the years, that’s for sure, or perhaps more confident and comfortable in his own skin—either way, there’s a definite gaze that sweeps over your form and lingers where it matters most.

Smiling just a little, you curl your hair around your ear and try to ignore the heat splotching along the back of your neck at the attention. Eventually you leave your apartment for the subway, holding onto his arm as you ping-pong back and forth with questions and catching up, talking about Austin’s endless red-carpet affairs and your determination to find a job that you actually want to keep. You know you have to end up being realistic—it’s not always reality to completely fall in love with what you do and get paid really well. You’ve got bills and costs of living.

Austin already knows better than to attempt to offer you money. The sentiment is there, for sure, but that’s the last thing you want your close friendship to turn into.

Checking your reflection in one of the subway windows as it pauses to unload and reload customers, you smile a bit before nodding. Red lipstick was definitely the way to go, and you stick your hands in your back pockets as you both wait for the next train you need. At least it’s not stiflingly hot in the tunnels as it sometimes tends to be.

“So I believe you said there’d be shots tonight? Table dancing?”

You smirk a little, putting your hands into the back pockets of your jeans, “If you’re lucky, Butler.”

He smiles and shakes his head in light amusement, letting you enter the subway train first when it stops and then following in after you. The seats fill up fast and you let others grab them, not worried about snagging one. Just a few stops anyways. Austin hovers in front of you as you turn to hold onto the poles, spreading your stance just slightly so that you don’t fall when the subway jerks forward. You’ve definitely learned that the hard way.

“How bout the moves with the hips?” He teases before playfully letting his hand rest on one, squeezing, “Those sixth grade dance moves comin’ back with a vengeance.”

“Stop,” You laugh, pushing on his chest. Austin doesn’t move very far but he’s grinning, reaching out for your hand and holding on for a few moments. The train sways both of you back and forth, a pattern of soft movement.

You take a second to look towards the stops illuminated on one of the sidebars, chewing on your lower lip—about five stops. Curling your hair around your ear, you hum, about to remind him about their seventh grade talent show competition where he definitely had some interesting dance moves himself, when a guy begins talking in your direction.

“Hey sweet thing—how bout a smile, huh?”

You ignore it for the most part but instinctively take a step closer to Austin, playing with the buttons on his shirt. Unfortunately, this is a regular occurrence when taking the subway sometimes, especially if it’s in the later hours. When there’s another stop and the doors open, people come and go, and Austin motions that some seats open up. Sitting down next to one another, you offer your best friend a soft smile before that guy across the way opens his mouth again.

“You can do better,” The subway guy says, “C’mon, a real smile.”

Austin shifts in the seat, moving to drape an arm over your shoulder. He must be able to tell you’re uncomfortable because he squeezes you gently, encouraging you to lean against his side as the train begins to move again. And you do, which seems to convince the guy across from you for the most part to mind his own business. He rolls his eyes and dejectedly mutters something crass under his breath before finding someone else to turn his attention towards.

You let out a short breath of relief and Austin runs his hand along your arm, a soft smile tugging the corners of his mouth. “You alright?”

Humming, you nod, the tenseness in your shoulders beginning to wash away, “Yeah, thanks.”

“Not the first time I’ve played the fake boyfriend card.” It’s interesting he brings that up because…while that’s true, you don’t consider this as something out of the ordinary for how you two act around another. Both of you have always been rather touchy, a very distinct love language.

So this? Feels rather natural.

You remember the time he’s referring too though, in college, when you were at this party and this guy just wouldn’t take no for an answer. Austin was there, swooped right in with an arm around your waist and a few stern comments about fucking off and leaving you alone. He’s just…always been there. Even when this whole Elvis thing hit the fan and he was away filming, doing interviews, settling into celebrity life, he came back to be there with you when he heard your grandmother died.

Maybe at this point it’s something it shouldn’t be surprising, and yet he manages to do that all the time.

You stand from the seat once the subway pulls into the stop you need, waiting for Austin to do the same before you both exit the train. His hand naturally finds yours in the crowd, squeezing gently, alternating to having you walk in front of him, fingers grazing your lower back. And it’s nothing that hasn’t happened before but for some reason you can’t stop fixating on it. The only thing that pulls you out of your thoughts is that…he’s an actor, a good one.

Of course he’s great at slipping into roles like this—the fake boyfriend, the best friend—you just wish you could trust your own feelings for once.

The bar is jam packed for tonight but this is unsurprising—though this is exactly why you had zero plans to go out. Even for your birthday, you’re not the kind of girl who enjoys shoving themselves into elbow-to-elbow bars and fighting for attention with the bartender all night. No matter how great the music is or the drink specials…it’s just not your scene. Sometimes though, your careless fun side needs to be teased out—and Austin has always been a professional at doing that. He knows exactly what buttons to press so that you don’t take yourself and everything you do so seriously.

You love that about him, even if it takes a little bit for you to feel comfortable.

A dramatic sigh leaves your lips as you wade through the crowd, Austin leading, his hand on your wrist so he doesn’t lose you in the group of people. He tugs you in front of him, using his body like a shield so that no one can bump into you from behind while you wait at the bar. You think this would be something you’d be used to by now, how it feels when Austin touches you, and yet—

There are these butterflies that flutter up from your stomach and sit on the bones of your ribcage, constantly moving their wings in your chest so that the sensation never disappears. You can feel the lingering sensation of his fingers, hands, long after they’re gone, and the cologne he wears is admittedly comforting. Something you wouldn’t mind burying your face into and closing your eyes.

You let out a breath—it’s going to be a long night.

Once you both have drinks in your hands and even a few bar stools that have opened up, you angle your body towards Austin and sip on your mojito, the mint strong tonight but not in a bad way. Your eyes drag along his form, taking him in, still a little in disbelief that he’s here with you when you didn’t expect to see him until at least Christmas or some other distant holiday.

“So how long are you in New York for?” You ask over the music, watching him pick up his beer to take a sip. You know that eventually he’ll be heading back to L.A., his home base, even though it’s a hard pill to swallow.

“I’m stayin’ through next week,” He replies, “Not leavin’ before your birthday.”

Your cheeks warm and you know he’s already said as much but…for some reason it touches you every time he confirms it. It can’t be easy with how much he’s got going on, and yet he’s making it clear that it’s a priority for him to be here.

You reach over to squeeze his forearm, running your thumb along the exposed skin because his denim button down is rolled up just below his elbows. “Definitely a nice surprise.” You smile a little, wanting to make sure he understands that you are happy he’s here, you just didn’t expect it.

“Well I missed you,” He says, turning his head towards you. Austin catches your gaze, holding it with his for a few long moments as he swallows, “I uh—I miss you when I’m away.”

That’s…well, that makes sense, right? You miss him too. But there’s something slightly different to his tone, something deeper to his voice that sits in your bones, you think you can see it the longer you look into his blue eyes.

“I’m sure that kinda gets lost in the sauce when you’re going to all those famous award parties, right?” You tease lightly, attempting to break the tension wide open, a soft smile on your lips.

While Austin smiles back, he shakes his head, “Not as simple as you’d think.”

For a moment you’re watching him and it’s like the whole bar begins to dim around you in sound, your sole focus on the man in front of you. He has to know, right? It’s obvious at this point—who you are with one another. You’ve never been afraid to be yourself with him, whether that meant being silly, eating as much food as you could fit, not bottling in tears or dancing ridiculously bad; he’s always known you.

And you’re so sure it’s obvious—

“Austin Butler?”

You blink, turning your head towards the sound at the same time Austin does too. The girl squeals which is still pretty sharp against the loud music, leaning your body back a little as she shoves her way in-between your stools at the bar. She drags a few friends forward into the space, laughing because,

“Oh my god, I thought it was you! I feel like I’d recognize you a mile away—I saw Elvis at least five times in theaters.”

Austin raises his eyebrows, looking between the three girls before a soft laugh leaves his lips, “That’s a dedicated number.”

“I saw it seven.” The other girl chimes in and you resist an eyeroll, looking down at your drink instead.

While Austin seems to always handle interactions like this with grace—kind, genuine, humble, it’s something that is difficult for you to get used to. Austin is just…Austin to you. It’s still so bizarre when strangers come up to him out of the blue when you’re hanging out, you forget that you kinda have to share him with the world. Not that you can’t understand how easy it is to fall in love with him, you’re not blaming these girls one bit.

But it doesn’t make it any easier.

Five minutes turn into ten and while Austin keeps dropping subtle hints that this conversation is coming to a close, they’re not taking the clues. They ask for just one more photo, one more selfie, one more autograph, trying to ask him questions like it’s an interview, soaking up any moment they can linger in his presence.

You need some fresh air, standing from the stool. Austin locks eyes with you instantly, “Y/N,” His tone is apologetic.

“It’s okay,” You smile a little, “Just need to step outside for a few minutes. I’ll be back.”

Before he can say anything else, you turn and weave your way through the crowd of people, heading out the door that empties out onto a semi-busy New York street. Taking a deep breath into your lungs, you center yourself as you walk a bit away from the door so others can come and go. You know you’re being utterly ridiculous—this is who Austin is now, a guy who’s easily recognizable, a guy where fans will come up to him and ask for photos and autographs and really, that’s not as bothersome to you as the emotions building up in your chest that you can’t find the damn words for.

It's just stupid, all of this is stupid—telling Austin how you feel won’t change anything. There are too many cons outweighing the pros, it’s not worth it. Tipping your head back, you close your eyes for a moment—you just need to get yourself together, go back inside and have a good time tonight.

And yet your heart is pounding in your ears and you’re slightly sick to your stomach over the prospect of going back in and watching those girls flirt with Austin until they eventually catch the point that he’s got other things going on tonight other than to just take selfies with them.

You’re not sure whether that itself is more annoying or whether you’re just aggravated with yourself that you feel like this.

“Y/N.”

Turning at the sound of your name, you blink as Austin comes out of the bar. You were gonna re-join him in a few moments (promise), he didn’t need to follow you out here. Your cheeks splotch in soft embarrassment as he walks over to you, not quite meeting his eyes for a few moments,

“Not runnin’ away, are you?”

Your frown, soft confusion pulling at the corners of your mouth. “No—just,” You clear your throat, “You make it sound like I do that a lot.”

There’s this look that passes over Austin’s face, almost gone as soon as it appears. It’s like there’s the tiniest bit of regret that he’s brought this up but it’s too late, out in the open, so mise well talk about it. He glances away, running a hand through his hair in almost a frustrated manner.

“You do,” Austin shakes his head, “Ever since we were kids.”

You narrow your eyes at him, “Okay, what the fuck—” Because this feels unfair. This night was supposed to be fun, spending time together, building up to your birthday, savoring the time he’s here before he has to go back to California. And now he’s…what, jumping down your throat? “How is this… how is me getting some fresh air my fault?” You ask, “I’m not the one who spent the last ten minutes taking selfies.”

“Oh for God’s sake,” He sighs, his head tipping back just a little, “I’m still gettin’ used to all this, okay? That does not mean you gotta exit stage left.”

You breathe in slowly—you’re not sure how to explain this to him (even though there’s nothing to explain, he’s right, you were running away). If he’d stayed in the bar five minutes longer, you would have texted him that you were going home, just to bypass feelings you don’t have names for.

There’s no room for me, you want to say, or, I don’t know where I fit.

Or even better, I don’t want to lose you, but all of it dies on your tongue.

“I wasn’t running away.” You insist but Austin can see right through you like he always has been able to.

“Y/N, you’ve constantly had one foot out the door. When things got too real with your parent’s divorce, you slept over my house on the living room floor.” He starts, “When that guy who liked you junior year tried to ask you to prom, you lied and said you were already goin’ with me.”

You swallow, staring at him, trying to ignore the way your eyes are stinging and there’s a lump forming in your throat,

“That guy you were seein’ a month ago? Paul? You told me he wanted to take the next step with you, start lookin’ for apartments and then all of a sudden you’re not with him anymore. Any time somethin’ gets too close, you bolt in the other direction.”

You were too ashamed and afraid to tell Austin the real reason it never worked out, despite Paul being a great guy.

Bristling, you wrap your arms around your chest, as if you need to protect yourself from his words. It’s completely unfair how well he knows you, how despite not talking about your reasoning behind things, you’re an open book.

He’s pressed against an open wound, a bundle of nerves, “Oh right, I’m sorry—I forgot you approach everything perfectly, right?”

“No, of course not—” Austin scoffs out a frustrated sound, “But maybe instead of runnin’ away from something, try runnin’ towards somethin’ instead. What are you so afraid of?”

A noise strangles in your throat because he’s making this sound so simple when it’s not, and all those feelings you’ve pushed down inside you suddenly come bubbling to the surface. How does he know you so well, possibly better than anyone you’ve ever met, and yet know nothing at all? Your run a hand through your hair, yanking at the strands just lightly when the words burst forth—

“What am I so afraid of? Jesus, Austin—I’m in love with you. And the last thing I want is to lose you, because I can’t handle that, okay? How am I supposed to ‘run towards that’?” You throw the words out into the universe and they sit there in the air, right on the oxygen molecules, poised.

Austin stares at you for a long moment, straightening his shoulders as his blue eyes soften with understanding. God, you do not want him to look at you like that, you do not want his pity or for him to tell you that you’re his best friend. You just don’t. This is another reason why you’d kept everything so locked up tight—the rejection is terribly painful.

“Just don’t,” You tell him, waving him off lightly even when he steps forward to grasp at your wrist, preventing you from going anywhere.

“I’ve been waiting for you to say somethin’.��

You blink up at him, fingers curling into the palm of your hands and you’ve never wanted to smack him before as much as you do now. “What is that supposed to mean? Why do I have to be the one to say it?”

And then you realize what’s actually come out of his mouth, because of the way Austin is looking down at you…it’s not pity, and it’s not regret, it’s something else. A look he’s given you before but with a brand-new context.

He feels the same way.

“You…”

Austin moves to gently swipe his thumb over the inside of your wrist, shaking his head as he stands there in silence for a few moments. “You’re right, I should have said somethin’,” He lets out a soft laugh, though it sounds a little pained, “Guess I didn’t realize I was runnin’ away too.”

You swallow thickly, worrying that this is somehow…a big misunderstanding that’ll be swept away tomorrow morning or when he leaves for California. So many words get caught in your throat and even though you don’t want to believe what he’s said about you, about running away from your problems, you know he’s right.

And you don’t want to do that anymore.

“I need to hear you say it.”

Austin nods, moving to curl some of your hair behind your ear, fingers lingering along your jawline, “I love you too,” There’s a weight of a change there, he’s said those words to you a hundred different times, but not like this, “I should have told you sooner.”

And this is what’s so ironic—you both talk to the other about absolutely everything and yet you never thought to communicate about this, that you both shared the same fears of losing the other. There’s no guarantee that that still couldn’t happen…but it has to be worth a shot to take, right?

A light laugh leaves your lips, using both hands to wipe at your cheeks even though no tears have fallen. “What, you mean before you left to film Elvis?”

He shakes his head carefully, “In your parent’s tree house.”

Your heart ricochets right into your throat at that admission and you can’t stop from pressing yourself up on your toes and kissing him. You slowly wind your arms around his neck, keeping him close, feeling the line of his shoulder bending towards you as his arms end up around your waist. That’s all the confirmation you need to kiss deeper, tilting your head into it, one of his hands moving to tangle itself in your hair.

Eventually when you pull back to breathe, Austin runs his thumb along your cheekbone, nipping at your lower lip, “Wanna go back inside or go home?”

“Home.” You say easily before lacing your fingers together and tugging him back towards the subway.

“Can I look now?” You ask, still with your hands over your eyes at the kitchen counter.

“No, not yet,” Austin laughs a little, rummaging around. You can hear drawers open and close, a lighter click, plates clattering. Your crinkle your nose, “Almost.”

“You better not be eatin’ all the icing.”

“I would never do such a thing.” He says, tone mock-offended. “Alright, open.”

When you look down, there’s a small cake that Austin’s put together in front of you. It’s a little messy, he clearly didn’t wait for the cake to completely cool before he piled icing on there. So all the letters he attempted to make are warped. You cover your mouth as a soft laugh escapes—definitely the thought that counts.

“If you’re gonna laugh at it, I’ll eat it.” Austin begins to take the cake away but barely gets his hand underneath the plate.

“Hey!” You laugh, “No, no—I won’t.” You playfully zip your lips closed. “Promise.”

He narrows his eyes at you but smiles, “Happy birthday, Y/N.”

Grinning, you turn to blow the candles out in one big breath, “Thank you.” Swiping some icing off the side, you pop it into your mouth and you barely have time to reach for a knife to slice the cake when Austin leans down and kisses you.

You hum, smiling against his lips—he tastes as sweet as sugar.

It’s nice to know that despite things changing, you two are exactly the same with one another.

Thank you for reading! :) gonna be posting a few more requests and then I’ll be opening up my inbox again if anyone is interested.

#austin butler #austin butler x reader #austin butler imagine #austin butler drabble #austin butler fic #elvis 2022 #mccall writes things

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canpandaspvp · 4 months

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KEEP TALKING ABOUT THE SBI FIC THING IM REALLY INTERESTED!! I've always wanted to study that side of the fandom under a microscope but it's scary.

buddy that place is WILDDDD. ok so things you need to know abt sbi side

1. they're damn good writers

2. i don't think they know how to write fanfiction

3. in another universe they create some very well known, published authors

because essentially everything they write is so fucking detached the second it enters an au. with dnf and the general dt side of things, there are differences. sure often times it's a bit more identifiable as fanfiction but that's not a BAD thing. it literally just means people know how to write fanfiction which is what they were intending to do anyways so like hooray

with sbi, i've read SEVERAL (as in i can go into my bookmarks right now and count out at least 10) fics that have just changed and deviated so far from the original source material that it's hard to even understand what they're talking about. in that regard, 100% dnfers get caught out before sbiers, but that's only in the circumstance that they get published at all. sbiers are really creative -- TOO creative, obviously to the point of creation ocs with names and descriptions that often times only vaguely resemble phil, tommy, wilbur, and techno -- which gives them the upper hand publication wise.

that leads into dark sbi which, let it be known, i have NEVER EVER liked. i personally thought it was harsh and unenjoyable but also goddamn did they make some good stories. obviously i read them bc even though i hated the vampires and the kidnapping and shit, it was good. the upper hand of writing fanfiction is that shit is more fast paced and attention grabbing, due to the lack of exposition and shit. so sbiers likely get published first, get discovered on booktube (not booktok cause they only read romance that's packed with tropes to the point of dysfunction), and they at least semi-spread from there until someone is who can't handle any difficult topics in fiction gets upset. but that's a different kind of controversy entirely

sbiers are good authors but they're stuck in this weird limbo of "it's not fanfiction it's just inspired original content" which sort of creates a new genre entirely. they pull some good fanfiction elements into its own realm entirely and it's really frustrating when you want to read fanfiction of something but if you're looking for something fast paced and good to read that aligns with the weird fanon universe they've created, they're your subfandom.

a lot of fics also appeal to personal issues that people are able to project onto easily (i speak from experience) so, while dnf is typically shorter, more accurate, and lighthearted, sbi has dynamics that people often crave in their real life and more people that they can insert themselves into. um that sounds weird but ykwim

they also have The AU's which dnf has but it's just not to the extent that sbi has it. the trifecta:

1. superhero aus

2. royalty aus

3. foster care aus

ran that tag for a good 2 years minimum. those are the sort of Peter Parker Goes On A Field Trip To Stark Industries type of aus where you have a good baseline that people get attached to, so you can sort of rewrite the same story different enough that people feel like they're reading smth new each time. and it works!! if people were to publish an sbi fic (which would likely fall into one of those 3 categories), it'd be realllyyyyyy recognizable just bc it was such a staple in the community. ifl im missing some other big categories but those are just the aus that i remembered off the top of my head that showed up a fuckton

don't get me wrong, i ❤️ dnf fanfiction and you def could publish it if you tried hard enough, but those authors do shit right. the characterization is so niche and specific, the dynamics are so unique, and often times, there just isn't enough in one fic to build and create a story. so much of dnf fanfiction relies on the fact that you already know those two, you know who they are, how they behave, their stakes regarding each other, etc etc. with sbi, the authors end up essentially writing their own stories so much so that they have to tell the story like it's a novel rather than fanfiction. it's very interesting imo esp bc fanon tommy for example is so extremely, incomprehensibly different from c!tommy or cc!tommy, with only enough hits of similarity to keep you hooked into the story with the illusion that you're actually reading the same character, when more often then not, it's like 1/4 tommy, 1/4 fandom misinterpretation interpretation, 1/4 author projection, and 1/4 recycled oc. again, speaking from experience.

also, sbi authors are pretty cocky about their writing, and it's really noticeable when they write a fic with the intention of changing the names and couple minor details to submit to an editing company for a few rounds of revision before they publish their nyt bestseller a few years down the line. they didn't need to leave the fandom to abandon their shit. lorehead analysts have a decent grasp of their content (but i'm biased), but lorehead writers?? different monster entirely. the second dsmp stands for something like "delicious small mtown pforsuperherovillanvigilanteshenanigans" then you know they're too far gone. they're attached to THEIR characters, not the dsmp's; if it means sacrificing the original source material for real life recognition, they'd do it in a heartbeat. i don't blame them but the point still stands.

this is all over the place i'm so sorry idek if i said anything you wanted to know but

tl;dr sbi fanfiction sort of became its own medium between fanfiction and original work so they're more likely to get published, but they fall into the same dynamics in the same type of universes that would easily get them figured out. dnf writers just seem to mind their damn business more. anyway, most dnf writers that left the fandom seem to want to completely forget that they ever did That. usually they just orphan/delete and move on cause they're embarrassed.

sorry again i'm so not good at explaining my thoughts but i did NOT spend 2 1/2 years reading sbi fanfiction 24/7 for nothing. i need to put my experience to use somehow so thanks for letting me do that 😭😭😭

#at least i'm not gonna do another separate essay rant in the notes like i usually do #💀#🍓.ask

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hughungrybear · 1 month

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Get to Know Me Tag :)

I was tagged by @telomeke in their post here. Thanks for the tag! 🥰

do you make your bed?

Yes. To be fair though, I am not a messy sleeper 😅. Let's just say that, in less than a minute, I can make the bed I slept in look like it hadn't been slept in lol 🤣🤣🤣

what's your favourite number?

I was born on the 9th day of the 9th month. Imagine how obnoxious I was back in '99 lol. 😁

what is your job?

Let's just say I'm fortunate enough to have an occupation that lets me do experiments, mix nefarious things, obtain spectacular (fail) results, and get paid while I'm at it 😅

if you could go back to school, would you?

I often describe myself as an infinite learner. So, while it's true that I can learn things outside of uni, there are still some things that I want to comprehend in an academic setting. I mean, how else can I get my hands on a Scanning Electron Microscope, spectrophotometer, and the like?? 😅

can you parallel park?

Yes. Curiously, my parallel park is better than my reverse parking lol.

a job you had that would surprise people?

Not a job, but most people are surprised when I tell them that I used to be a competitive cheerleader/dancer 😅😅😅 Apparently, I don't look "perky" enough lol. Another thing that also surprises other people is when I tell them I used to do theatre and even played the Virgin Mary in a school play back in high school. Again, my resting bitch face is working against me 🤣🤣🤣

do you think aliens are real?

I'll believe when there is definitive proof that there are. And before I get dragged into the mud, the same goes with religious stuff. I might have played the role of the Virgin Mary in a school theatre, but I am agnostic, at best lol.

can you drive a manual car?

Yes. I actually prefer driving manual cars to automatic because I tend to get bored easily and shifting gears helps me focus lol.

what's your guilty pleasure?

I usually drink unlimited amounts of long black coffee during the day and drink beer mixed with vodka before bedtime. But I will prolly live happily ever after if somebody gives me unlimited access to some tasty chicken nuggets lol

tattoos?

I would want some but I don't like needles lol

favorite color?

I like reds, yellows, and blues.

favorite type of music?

Depends on my mood. There are times I like heavy metal. Other times I would prefer classical music. However, I do like The Beatles so their music is always somewhere in my Spotify playlists.

do you like puzzles?

Yes. I used to do cryptograms and logic puzzles while commuting to my uni.

any phobias?

Does fear itself count? 😅 No, the worst that I feel is anxiety. However, I could always convince myself to face whatever it is that is giving me anxiety. For example, I might not like needles, but I can still get my vaccination with little fuss lol.

favorite childhood sport?

Running. I just like getting from one place to another as fast as my legs could carry.

do you talk to yourself?

If I am alone, yes. I even address myself in the third person 😅

what movies do you adore?

I listed some of my faves in a different tag game here.

coffee or tea?

Definitely coffee but my GP is on my ass for having low blood pressure so I am slowly migrating to green tea 😅 😅 😅

first thing you wanted to be growing up?

Pretty sure I wanted to be a librarian because (1) I'll be surrounded by books, (2) I will be able to hear myself think since libraries are quiet, and (3) it's almost guaranteed that I will be (mostly) left alone 😅 😅 😅

Whew. Tagging @dribs-and-drabbles, @lost-my-sanity1, @imlivingformyselfdontmindme, @waitmyturtles and everybody who sees this and wants to play this game 😊

#tag game

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meraxes-of-new-albion · 4 months

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Tag games! Thanks for the tag @sparklehoard <333

(readmore because i ramble)

Are you named after anyone?

Yes! my parents are nerds. i got named after a doctor who character.

also trying to decide if i'm gonna use a new name... if i do it'll probably be Best Bland Bioware Man My Beloved

(Kaidan Alenko <3)

When was the last time you cried?

uhhhh.... more recently than usual. couple weeks ago i think? stubbed my toe or something and that's the straw that broke the camel's back, yall know how it is

Do you have kids?

nope! and noooo thank you, if i ever wanted kids i'd adopt a teenager

What sports do you play or did you play in the past?

I'm gonna be That Guy since i was a marching band kid for 8 years. that's some cardio, man.

Do you use sarcasm?

Whaaaaat noooo never (yes constantly)

What's the first thing you notice about people?

i'm a very bad Things Noticer in general so... maybe hair color?

What's your eye color?

That kind of blue-gray most blue eyed people have in my experience

Scary movies or happy endings?

I'm not much for horror but it's growing on me. It has to feel like it's *saying* something, though, i HATE paranormal stuff and mindless slasher flicks. But saccharine endings are no good either. so... i guess happy endings, if you make me pick.

Any talents?

Pedantry? uh. i'm very good at fucking around and still managing to mostly accomplish my original goal. Whether it be crafts or technology or even career stuff, I can usually approximate a result pretty well pretty quickly.

Where were you born

idk a hospital. apparently people actually give a damn about this stuff. there's lots of hospitals in my hometown so idk which one even lmao

What are your hobbies?

god i have SO MANY HOBBIES HELP. sewing. knitting. i weave rugs out of twine i get from work. i play warhammer 40k, and may end up getting into the fantasy side of it (i got an army as a gift for christmas lol). lots of video games (mostly FPS RPGs, and roguelikes, but a bit of everything). theoretically i like baking, although i hate doing dishes and don't own a dishwasher, so i... don't :( OH OH OH i write sometimes too... i never publish anything because i never finish anything but i do like writing

Do you have any pets?

How tall are you?

I HAVE A CAT HIS NAME IS WALL-E AND I LOVE HIM

LOOK AT HIM

5'9, or... ~175 cm

Favorite subject in school?

Biology :) though i don't like the cell stuff, i do better with things i can touch or see without a microscope.

Dream job?

zookeeper :) which i'm doing!!! but like. living wage zookeeper. would be great. with like. yknow. paid time off n stuff. that would be nice.

(don't feel pressured if i @ you <3)

@the-many-children-of-the-void @bonewhiteglory @zumer-feygele @testostergnomes @starspeckledabyss @cuntwrap--supreme and anyone else who wants to :)

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hearditinapastlife2019 · 29 days

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When you said in the tags you needed to go back to Algonquin, where did you mean? In Ontario? What's it like?

yeah i mean algonquin park in ontario! it’s the most beautiful place i’ve ever been to and it’s always calling me back to it. i took my first portaging trip there last fall along a series of interconnected pocket lakes where i felt so small and immersed in the natural world. i can’t really speak for the whole park because i spent my time along a ~75km loop in the central backcountry and the park is so massive (about 7000 square km i believe?) that it encompasses millions of different experiences, but for me what stood out was just the vastness and complexity of the natural world and how small it can make you feel in a really beautiful way… if you’ve ever seen a tom thomson painting of algonquin park, he captures the canadian shield and the waters and the forest and the absolute stillness that seems ever present in the park so beautifully and realistically, and the only thing that’s missing from those paintings is the smell of rich earth and sap lake water. the thing that made me fall in love with the park was that the beauty there is so overwhelming that you can’t help but feel it even when you’re actively trying to avoid certain death like i was. you can feel how old and alive the forests are and how much life surrounds you, and you can feel how fleeting your presence on earth is. it feels so still but so alive at the same time, like the forest is hiding something from you and like if you knew where to pull back the curtain, you’d find some secret world that you couldn’t even imagine. there are lots of places where the canadian shield is exposed and you can camp or hike over beautiful massive ancient rock plains that have been there for millions of years and will be there millions of years after you die. billions of animals have stepped on the same spot of rock you are stepping on and it holds the memories of all of them. in lots of lakes, tree sap turns the water a reddish colour and the water tastes earthy and sweet like nothing else. if you’re lucky, you’ll see a moose or a beaver (if you’re unlucky, you’ll come across one of their dams when you’re trying to make it through a stream and you’ll have to stand on their dam and haul your canoe over the dam) or a black bear or a great blue heron (when we were paddling through the otterslide, we were guided briefly by a blue heron who showed us the right turns at forks). some creeks are so clear and deep that when you’re paddling through them you can see the grasses under the water moving with your paddle and the only way i can describe it is that it looks like mother earths hair moving through the water. there are mushrooms and molds and lichens wherever you look and mycoheterotrophs if you know where to look, and ultimately i think that inevitably when you’re there, you’ll see nature do something entirely new that you’ve never seen before, on a near-microscopic level or in an all-encompassing way. it’s my favourite place on earth and i’m always dreaming of it and wanting to go back.

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dcwnthercbbithcle · 11 months

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GET TO KNOW THE AUTHOR!

𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐄 : Bunni! I also go by Bunny, Bun or any other synonyms for a rabbit! Haha

𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐒 : I go by all pronouns! Given I’m agender and like, just sort of foggy about my gender? I don’t really feel any one way or another! So call me what you want, I’m still a Bun!

𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐅𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐔𝐍𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 : Tumblr messages are honestly my go-to, simply because on Tumblr I notice a lot quicker than on discord and I’m less likely to forget!

𝐌𝐎𝐒𝐓 𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄(𝐒) : Right now it’s Fíadh, the Alpinist, Chromeskull, Leshy and 8713!

𝐄𝐗𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 / 𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐘 𝐘𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐒? : No one laugh at me, but I started roleplaying on Quotev and Deviantart back when I was, I think, 14? And now I’m 21, turning 22, so crunching the numbers, I’ve been writing for just about 7 years! Probably more though, given my memory isn’t super accurate and I’m probably leaving out a lot! Haha

𝐁𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐄𝐗𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 : On the platform?? MEETING ALL OF MY CURRENT PALS! God, I will call them out by name but Bruce and Freddy were some of the kindest, most encouraging and patient folks I have ever met and I’m so glad I was able to find them on here and write with them when I could!

𝐑𝐏 𝐏𝐄𝐓 𝐏𝐄𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐒 : OH MY GOD I HAVE SO MANY; my number one pet peeve, though is when people just straight up do not read your responses and writing! Not in the sense of misunderstanding your intentions but just straight up not reading all of your answers to the point where it shows IN THEIR RESPONSES! Sorry not sorry, but if you cannot handle a multi-para high-lit writer, don’t try to roleplay with them! Letting them create paragraphs for you, only for you to ignore or skim it is a dick move!

𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐒𝐓, 𝐅𝐋𝐔𝐅𝐅 𝐎𝐑 𝐒𝐌𝐔𝐓? :

𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐎𝐑 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐓 𝐑𝐄𝐏𝐋𝐈𝐄𝐒? : NGL my pride would physically not allow me to post anything under one paragraph. Just not my style! That being said, I’m not picky with what I get! As long as it has enough for me to build action and voice on top of, I’m happy!

𝐏𝐋𝐎𝐓𝐒 𝐎𝐑 𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒? : My most controversial take, but I almost prefer memes more than extremely long and drawn-out plots taking place over weeks, because, no matter how much I adore a dynamic, that commitment eventually does wear me out y'know??

𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄? : UHHHHH- whenever I get the time and that hyper fixation strikes! Usually early evening, though!

𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄𝐒? : WELLL, it really depends! Am I out in the hills eating people, in a hospital healing people, defying death at every turn or ruling a hellish realm? Absolutely not! But each of the muses does contain a small piece of me beneath the surface!

It seems silly but I’ve always done this as a way to make it easier for me to relate and connect to them! It’s often microscopic, but shared traumas, fears, loves and minor personality traits (8713 is most like the mun ngl) does countless good to ensuring that not only can I keep playing them in the long term but ensuring that they are wholly mine!

To outline one of the similarities/shared threads of personality

Fíadh deals heavily with a fear of abandonment and loss of control over her body.

In her story, this is due to several factors from childhood neglect and abuse, a precarious sense of self-esteem, the curse that plagues her, her history of being moved around and used as a piece on a chess board, and the death/rejection from everyone she has held dear up to her current point (except for the Trapper/Trader and Leshy ofc) however the truth is, while narratively it does make sense, it was born from me and my experience as being neurodivergent and struggling with a sense of self and value due to the repeated rejection and experiences that came from it!

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐆𝐄𝐃 𝐁𝐘 : @lettherebemonsters (thank you a ton for the tag! I had a lot of fun filling this out!) 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐆 : anyone who wants to do this!

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bonvoyagenoona · 2 years

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About Me 13 | BTS, Taking a Break, and Erikson’s Stages of Psychosocial Development

Special thank yous to the following!

@yuugehn! I so appreciated our discussion about so much of this! I originally was going to tag every line from our conversations lol, but for anyone reading this, please know that so much of this post, especially regarding observations about the Festa dinner, come from yuugehn’s gorgeous brain and heart!

@The Hornies! Over the 2 years we’ve gotten to know each other, we’ve talked about the themes discussed here. Thanks for being down to discuss these sorts of things with me and being so generous with your friendship.

I’ve been thinking about writing this post for a while. It’s going to be a loooooong post. It has been in my drafts for months because I wanted to talk about BTS’s career trajectory and how it plays off of their identities as individuals, as well as a group, in Erik Erikson’s life stages. It’s also about observations I made about my own fan experience, especially related to their concerts in Las Vegas. I wasn’t sure when my thoughts would come together.

To borrow Jungkook’s words from the Festa dinner, “Today’s the day.”

It all clicked this week due in part to the people mentioned up top, as well as other dear friends, old and new. And this has actually become a very, very personal post.

Whenever I’m having big emotions, my overeducated ass likes to lean on psychology frameworks. I try not to over-intellectualize in a way that diminishes my feelings, but I do find that applying such frameworks helps me gain perspective about those feelings. It even helps me validate my feelings. When I can see how my feelings fit into some kind of core psychological principle, I start to sense that I’m not alone. I find comfort in the fact that people have felt what I’m feeling under similar circumstances, and enough of those people have felt those feelings that someone made a damn framework.

So if you’re still sorting through your feelings about the break, and you love psychology as much as I do, let’s peep into Erikson’s brain microscope for a little while to gain some of that perspective. And then, if you’re interested, I’ll share some personal thoughts about it all, ones that are challenging and a bit scary to share, but ultimately have led me to feel a new, refreshing, optimism about life!

OK, let’s start with the psych stuff!! 🤩

Erik Erikson was a developmental psychologist who drew upon Freud’s psychodynamic work to identify key stages to human life. He’s actually the first person to come up with the term identity crisis, and he labels each stage based on a certain crisis, or conflict, that people grapple with during that age. It’s this investigation that makes Erikson’s classic model of eight stages so relevant to what BTS and ARMY might be experiencing right now.

source: medium

I won’t go through all of the stages in depth, but here are some key things to know:

Though ages are roughly associated with each stage, you don’t necessarily have to go through these stages linearly or according to that timing

Stages can overlap

It is possible to “fail” a stage

If you “fail” a stage, you can still move on/through the other stages, which means you can also revisit stages as you grow

Here’s a quick infographic that summarizes the eight classic stages. We’ll be zooming into Adolescence, Young Adulthood, and Middle Adulthood, and how they’re all currently overlapping for the members of BTS!

Adolescence: Identity vs. Role Confusion (ages 12 to 18)

During this stage, our life events help us determine our identities. We do this by comparing and contrasting old experiences that we had when we were younger (i.e., what our loved ones taught us, showed us, instilled in us) with new experiences that we start to learn about at these ages (e.g., as we make deeper friendships outside of the home, and as we see more of the world). If we are successful, we come away with a strong sense of self; we know who we are, what we like, what we believe, etc. If we are unsuccessful, we come away from this stage perhaps thinking that we know these things, only to find out later that we go through an identity crisis, during which we are left questioning who we are.

Interesting things to note about this particular stage are that 1) Erikson believed that this stage can take a much longer time, especially in technologically advanced societies, because it takes us longer to adapt skills to navigate such a world, and 2) Erikson believed this stage is prolonged for people who are labeled geniuses in society.

If we take that to be true, it’s easy to see how the members went so long without a break, and thus now need that break to check back in with themselves. The ages seem to line up here. They started in their mid to late teens / early 20s; so much of their adolescence was defined for them, and it’s coming to a head now. They’ve been operating in one mode for so long, and they’ve led rigid lifestyles that have predefined so much of their identities — I mean, from the start, they were labeled as vocal line, rap line, dance line, etc., and it makes sense that they’re now questioning these things in order to expand and grow.

When people grapple with the central conflict of this life stage, there is a need for exploration, which is what the members hope to do now. They all need a way to test their identities to see what holds, and what doesn’t. What sticks. What they can add. What they can redefine. The members of BTS need this time for experimentation so as not to fall into identity crisis territory.

One comforting thing to see, though, is how the members are also leaning on the group identities that have crystallized to help them through that experimentation! Hobi plays an integral role here! Hobi’s role as the internal-facing leader helped him (and, thus, all of them) broach the topic of needing a break. Hobi was the first to question the group dynamic, with that story of him threatening to leave the group in the early days. He is also critical of the members when it comes to needing to slow down.

source: bffjeongguk

Compare that with the way Namjoon expressed the weight that he carried on his shoulders as the external-facing leader. His role has been focused on keeping them together as a unit; Namjoon is the peacemaker, the diplomat.

Hobi, though, shepherds the groups’ individuality. He is critical of them as individuals in order to help them each succeed on their own terms. And it makes sense that he’s the first to showcase his solo work, thus leading the way. The others have looked to Hobi in this way, too, like how Jimin has shown Hobi all of his solo work before the others. Namjoon said that he kept putting off the much-needed break; it’s almost as if Namjoon needed Hobi to tell him it was time, and as a result, they all are looking to Hobi to help them start their new chapters. A necessary changing of the guard of leadership in a way, perhaps, to help the group evolve.

Early Adulthood: Intimacy vs. Isolation (ages 20-44)

During this stage, our life events help us determine our connections to others. It may seem like BTS have the intimacy thing down-pat, given their close bond. But, importantly, being too enmeshed with others can also lead to disconnection. Being in the group too long could lead to isolation from others in their lives, depriving them of any growth they may have made in forming their own identities. This is not a completely foreign concept to BTS, as people, as well as artists.

Think about Trivia: Seesaw. Yoongi’s message in that song is about the inability to leave a toxic relationship that has struck only the illusion of balance, and the protagonist in the song ultimately decides to get off and move on with their lives. Though the dynamics within BTS aren’t fraught with toxicity, the same challenge is still there; the members felt like they weren’t being genuine, and it’s time to do something about it.

A key marker of success in this stage is whether people can make certain sacrifices in order to preserve that intimacy. Arguably, the members of BTS need to make a certain kind of sacrifice of time and space in order to preserve the family that they’ve built together. Take that with the lesson from Trivia: Seesaw, and it’s easy to see why they’re so eager to try new things and spend time with other people.

But you’re also seeing them do that in a way that is familiar to them. They’re making their own music, but they’re sharing that music with each other before they release it into the world. Apparently, Taehyung is even doing an In the Soop spin-off. It’s a way to put that intimacy to the test in order to come out of this stage successfully. It’s clear that they trust that their unconditional love for each other will remain intact, and that’s a really comforting thing to see, as well as a healthy way to model growth.

source: bollywoodlife

Middle Adulthood: Generativity vs. Stagnation (45-64)

It makes sense that as we start to move into the “old man” stage that Min “I Speak 3 Languages, Play A Million Instruments, and Do Pilates Now” Y🍑🍑ngi’s schedule comes into play! It’s amazing! And, interestingly enough, it’s a nice example of how one may address the core conflict in this stage!

During this stage, our life events help us identify our impact on others and the world. When we are successful, we feel proud and accomplished. When we are unsuccessful, we feel dissatisfied and stale. Much of what comes up in this stage is discussed in a familial setting, and it just so happens to work well here, as BTS even shared that they feel more like family.

Now, we’ve established that stages can overlap, that they’re not necessarily linear, and that geniuses often spend much longer in the Identity vs. Role Confusion stage. Given the universal scope of their influence and achievement, and understanding their words in that context, I don’t think it would be outlandish to assume that there is a bit of an acceleration to the Generativity vs. Stagnation stage. And they each give examples of how they are experiencing this conflict through the central tasks associated with this stage.

One particular central task of this stage is to create a home. Because their house contract (lease?) is up, they’ve settled into their own places, separate from each other. Seems like they’ve got this one set, but it’s worth it to celebrate that they each get to incorporate their own voices in the way that they decorate and set up their new places, with as many mattresses aas Jungkook wants to have and saw in half lol.

When it comes to the other tasks, let’s break it down by member.

Namjoon. One task of this stage is relinquishing past roles. Here we go with Namjoon… Oooof, I feel for Namjoon. I wish I could tell him that I’ve been there, very recently. I’ve shared before that Namjoon is extremely focused on legacy. So it makes sense that he’s hitting on two central tasks: relinquishing a central role in the lives of grown children, and being proud of one’s accomplishments. If he is the external leader of BTS, then the rest of the group can be perceived as his “children”, or “followers”, to a certain extent.

It’s clear that relinquishing this role is particularly tough for him, given what he shared, and how emotional he was when he shared it. Similarly, Namjoon seems to be battling stagnation pretty hard when it comes to his identity as a leader and creator. He voiced feeling lost, as any leader without anyone to lead would feel, and this has crossed over into his difficulty writing new music. I think that’s why he’s so interested in art — he’s lost his own voice, and he’s looking to other artists in other media to help him express himself. I’m thinking about how he felt after seeing that Rothko piece. He’s wanting to feel again, and he mentioned needing new life experiences, new stimuli, to have something to say.

And he’s scared about what happens if he doesn’t get that. He’s scared about what will happen, and whether he will disappoint people, on top of already feeling he’s disappointed ARMY and his fellow members. He has a hard time feeling pride in his accomplishments because he was feeling so disingenuous when working toward them. It makes sense that he would want to revisit that now and get back to a place of generativity, to impact the world in a way that is positive and healthy. To do that, he recognizes that he needs new experiences, and that is a commendable thing to state while being in the position he’s in now.

Jin. Some crises in this stage include adjusting to the physical changes of older age, a sense of regret for unfulfilled goals, a desire to spend time alone, and a desire to feel young again. Jin’s physicality certainly seems to be relevant here; he was recently injured, and we’re all thinking about his age and perhaps his oncoming military duties, which will have an impact on what comes next. He talked during the dinner about how he doesn’t necessarily regret not acting, but that means that he had to think about it, process that he hadn’t become an actor like he thought he would or might like to be, though he certainly still has time to do so. That’s also a part of life — realizing that you do have more time than you think you do in many ways, something that I’m also learning. The desire to spend time alone and to feel young again seems to surface when Jin was talking about shutting himself away and playing games for days straight, bur Erikson also points out that people often come back from these behaviors feeling unfulfilled. So though I don’t know if Jin is necessarily experiencing a quarter/mid-life crisis (I mean, how much do we really know about what they’re experiencing), these kinds of behaviors are often seen in this stage.

Yoongi. This stage also brings about homemaking, reexamining our behaviors, using leisure time creatively, and passing on our lessons to those younger than us, whether through family or instruction. So it makes sense that Yoongi seems to be thriving in this space of generativity. He’s making his house into a home, picking up healthy life behaviors, feeling inspired to use his leisure time creatively, and passing on wisdom and information to the next generation (young songwriters). In fact, let’s compare and contrast the “young songwriters” thing; Yoongi found joy in being able to share advice with them (generativity), whereas Namjoon felt slighted that no one was coming to him (stagnation). It’s almost as if Namjoon’s role as a leader forced his own adolescence / identity development to be that much more stunted — or maybe also his own genius getting in the way! Meaningful work is also a huge part of the generativity vs. stagnation stage — people who find meaning in their work find it through contact with others, opportunities for growth and maturity in their craft, and a level of independence as they explore. Yoongi is getting exactly this, which maybe explains why he was so happy during the dinner, save for having empathy for the other members when they were expressing their fears. All of this helps to explain Yoongi’s glow-up. And it seems consequential that this is the “old man” stage lol.

Hobi. I talked about Hobi up at the top, so this section will be short. Hobi is leading the charge when it comes to helping growing and grown children to be responsible adults. Again, Hobi is the first to debut his solo work, and he’s performing at Hobipalooza — I mean, Lollapalooza, lol. But he also needed to help the others to see that they are ready to do it, too.

Jimin. Obviously, interpersonal relationships are key in this stage; those that are solid hopefully continue to grow, and those that aren’t start to fall away. During this stage, love matures past more shallow definitions, or purely sexual definitions. ARMY talks about Jimin being pure love, and that’s something that I thought about a lot when writing him in Bear with Me (i.e., a discussion about whether there is such a difference between platonic vs. romantic or other types of love). He’s done so much to stay true to himself and express that love in a way that is visible. He hugs, he smiles, he asks people to tell him that they love him, but he doesn’t just want it for surface reasons. He really means it, and he needs people to mean it when they say it back. I think this also makes him vulnerable to enmeshment, where he starts to lose himself in that love. And that’s why I think the solo chapter seems to be hard for him to stomach:

Taehyung. When it comes to Taehyung and Jungkook, I see a mix of all of this as they play out in identity, which is something I think Taehyung is experimenting with, and maturity, which is something Jungkook is developing.

I think I have less to say about Taehyung because he’s so open about his experimentation, and that’s really all there is to it. He’s experimenting with change, trying on new identities, new hobbies, new friends. Though he is an introvert, he seems to be the most outwardly social with other idols and celebrities, and his feeds are all about him trying on new clothes and looks, or having new experiences out in the world. Seeking out this type of change is typical at this stage of life as well, and with Taehyung’s openness to experimentation, it’s cool to see this particular habit surface at a time when he has unlimited resources and opportunities.

Jungkook. Interestingly, or maybe even unsurprisingly (he is the golden maknae, after all), Jungkook is the one who is developing a certain level of maturity. He seems to be stepping into a balance of all things, just like how the guys say that Jungkook is a mix of all of his hyungs — especially all the best parts of them. Namjoon pointed out that he rambled on and on about what he was feeling, and Jungkook was so concise and well-spoken, but Jungkook also benefitted from the hyungs sharing their thoughts first as he essentially summarized them. With their wisdom, he is taking on all of the tasks mentioned, and he’s figuring out his own take on them. And that’s why he seems like he’s so mature.

Like Namjoon and Hobi, he’s in one way relinquishing control and being forced to trust what the future will bring, while also developing his own abilities as a leader / caretaker — like adopting Bam! He’s creating his own space, his own home, his own sound, the way that he wants, and I think that his confidence is shored up by Yoongi’s, as he so determinedly said that he will release his music after Yoongi does. They’ve talked about his capacity to love being bigger than they initially realized, but compared to Jimin, he seems to have a layer of separation; Jungkook’s not afraid to emote, but he still seems more confident in making his own choices. And like Taehyung, he’s experimenting with his identity. But, in comparison to Jin, he’s also lucky to be going through these changes at a time where his physical state can weather them, so it’ll be interesting to see how that may change as he gets older and faces these questions about identity again. Along with Yoongi, he seems so ready to take on this next chapter.

Final Thoughts on the Break, and More on BTS and Psychology (aka Cheryl Actually Gets Personal for Once)

It’s so interesting to see how I think it’s super interesting that I planned my BTS Case Conceptualization project and only wrote Namjoon so far. He’s the external leader, and the one who is so focused on keeping them together. I think it’ll be interesting to write the rest of the members’ case conceptualizations now, knowing that their solo work is right around the corner. Might bring some new light to what I have in store for those pieces, kind of like another experimentation period.

Speaking of experimentation, and feelings…

Some of you may have noticed that I am experimenting with tons of little projects, as well as the structure and content of my fics. Also, so many of you have shared how you’ve been feeling with me, and you’ve asked me how I’ve felt about all of this news, too. Even with all this psychology talk, I’m the kind of person who feels things first, doesn’t really know what to do with those feelings, and only understands them muuuuuuch later.

When I got to see BTS in Las Vegas, I felt odd. I didn’t quite know what it was. I felt frozen, in a way. So I kind of had to let it thaw before I could express it. I think I’m starting to understand what I was feeling. Even before then, I had been telling Roomie / @mochilatae that the guys felt so far away. (Here, I have to say, dear Roomie, thank you for the amazing chat. You know. Even without me having to use the words, because they would fail.) And I still felt that in Las Vegas, when I was literally watching them in concert, and arguably within the closest physical proximity that I will ever be to them. It came to a head that night, I think. I was feeling what Namjoon talked about, this sense of exhaustion, or maybe even disingenuousness. The fabulous Shenee from GAF, as well as other ARMY, have been talking about this shift, and I could see what they were talking about, though I hadn’t associated it with my own feelings. Now, my freeze is making sense.

See, when it comes to other people’s feelings, I tend to be a sponge; I take on what others are experiencing, and I have a hard time separating what I’m truly feeling from what I feel others are feeling. It’s why I didn’t become a therapist. I love psychology, but my love lies in the theory of it. The meaning-seeking, but not necessarily the application. When it comes to the practical matter of helping others, I just couldn’t serve as a container for other people’s emotions. I was taking my work home with me, and I couldn’t do the job. I couldn’t keep my own boundaries well enough to provide that for others. I still can’t. That’s why I’m very, very selective with who I share my real feelings with. And I’m glad that I recognized that before I decided to really pursue my clinical license, because I would have burned out fast.

Because of that, and because of other personal experiences, I definitely have a hard time being vulnerable, especially when I have failed to maintain boundaries, and when people have continuously overstepped the boundaries that I have tried to keep in place.

If you’ve read my fics, you know I have no issues being completely vulnerable in my writing. I love getting to talk about all of these feelings and life themes with you! I love the asks, the posts, the discussions, so please keep them coming!

But I do recognize that when it comes to the fics, I’m using my characters to speak for me. In fact, if you search my “about me” content here, you’ll find that I really have no truly personal posts here. This is arguably the first real “about me” type of post. I like sharing my thoughts, but I still need to find a good balance when it comes to sharing my emotions or the meanings behind them. It’s why I love to write; I really love using characters to play out the scenarios I’ve experienced for me to understand what the truth is beneath them. It helps.

So, take everything that has been going on regarding the break, Namjoon’s fear of sharing that he was exhausted or not living up to people’s standards, the group’s fear of losing ARMY as they take this time to start their next chapter, all the things that the guys have shared, and add this dream that I had last night.

I don’t really do deep dream analysis from a psychodynamic perspective; I am firmly a CBT gal through and through, and after studying memory from a cognitive neuroscience perspective, I follow the perspectives in the field that view dreaming as an information encoding process. Most of the time, I consider my dreams to be like little movies, or episodes of a show. But, like with movies or episodes, I do think dreams can mean things, especially if we feel compelled to assign them meaning.

In my dream last night, I was sleeping, and I woke up in my house (but it wasn’t my actual house) and found all this furniture that I had ordered scattered about the room. Chairs, mattresses, tables, knickknacks. I wasn’t expecting any of it to be there. I got out of bed and found the guys in the living room, where there was even more new furniture laying about, and chatted with them, at some point asking, “Hey, so, when did all of this get delivered and assembled?”

And the guys, except Jungkook (he was around 19-20 yo in the dream), all voiced at the same time that Jungkook was the one who unpacked and assembled everything (lol very Run BTS interior decorating episode). When I looked at him in surprise and gratitude, he just kinda sweetly smiled and shrugged. And I woke up feeling so comforted and taken care of, absolutely amazed that Jungkook would go to the trouble of doing that for me.

Where did this dream come from? Well, cognitive neuroscience me pointed out that I just wrote Blackout because I needed some kind of comfort but wasn’t exactly sure why (and what timing lol). I watched Just One Day and For You before I slept last night. I have been thinking about getting new furniture and reorganizing my room. And I had been thinking about Festa and Jungkook’s 7 mattresses! 🤣

But I also know that I’ve been examining my own need for depth in my personal connections. I have lived my life in a way that has kept me from being truly vulnerable with others, for an amalgam of reasons. Part protection. Part fear. It has served me very well. But it also keeps me from experiencing a certain closeness with people. This is me in Erikson’s Intimacy vs. Isolation stage. While I still think I need to enforce certain boundaries, I think I’m hungry to let a select few in. It’s just a matter of finding the right people to let in, and, happily, I think I’m starting to find them, thanks in part to BTS and ARMY. I need to do more soul-searching, to continue figuring out my own feelings, figure out my voice, figure out what makes me happy. To not be a sponge, and to be my own container. To try new things without being so invested in them that I lose myself in the process.

I’ve so appreciated seeing the discussion around the break. (And if you’re interested in more BTS / psychology takes, here’s the series I’m working on right now!) But I hope this long-ass post, all of this together — Erikson’s life stages, BTS’s examples, and my own personal observations — helps express why I happen to think this break is a good thing. A natural thing. And a necessary thing.

BTS’s break just so happens to coincide with me needing a break from my old patterns as well. So, I’m excited to see what is in store for them next, but more importantly, I’m thrilled to see what this prompts for ARMY — how we continue to grow as people, and how BTS has impacted us / will continue to impact us along the way. 💜

Sources used in this article:

Early and middle adulthood (Boundless Psychology)

Erik Erikson’s stages of psychosocial development (VeryWellMind)

Erikson’s stages of psychosocial development (Wikipedia overview)

Orenstein, G. A. & Lewis, L. (2021). Eriksons stages of psychosocial development. StatPearls.

#bts #bangtan sonyeondan #bts psychology #about me #how i write #personal #bts festa #bts festa 2022 #erikson #erik erikson #thanks for reading!#let me know what you think!

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