#real depiction of my creative process

[n4rval]

the stalker

#artwork #freakbullet followed me i was morally compelled to sit and actually make art of him #but yk brain empty = silly comic #since he so nicely decided to pay me a visit i now know exactly how to capture his features #wingdings is a creep nothing will convince me otherwise #but yk in a mad scientist kind of way #actually a nice old man whos interested in your ocs #thank you for supporting my insanity dings #undertale #gaster #wd gaster #real depiction of my creative process #deltarune #wingdings and me

[sailoryooons]

Gods of the Dark | Two | myg (m)

☾ Pairing: Dream god!Yoongi x f. human!reader

☾ Summary: Don’t ask for help in the dark. It’s an old tale you always heard whispered among the people of your village. But when you find yourself dragged kicking by the man you’re to marry, you have little choice but to beg for help long after the sun has set. The god who answers your pleas promises to save you, but every deal comes with a price. 

☾ Word Count: 21,443

☾ Genre: Fantasy, angst, strangers to lovers, smut

☾ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately. 

☾ Warnings: Sexist and patriarchal society inspired by medieval europe, a lot of world building and discussion about theories/concept of dreams, discussions of morals and ethics, world building, angst, mentions/light depictions of an abusive family, discussions of gender roles and forced marriages, attempted murder via arson, sexual dream sequences, depictions of oral (f. receiving), exposed bodies (in a brothel), pining, townsfolk essentially bullying reader, intense nightmare sequences, light depictions of PTSD (including memories of almost drowning/being physically attacked), explicit language, idiots who are obviously into one another being idiots, recreational drinking, topics of desire, feelings of shame, depictions of anxiety and fear, slight voyeurism, attempted murder

☾ Published: December 2, 2023

☾ A/N: It's finally here! This chapter took so long to write and I want to apologize for how long it took. The creative process can be so difficult sometimes, and I have been having a very hard year, which reflects in my writing. Thank you for sticking with me - I really hope this chapter is okay. This originally wasn't going to be as slow of a burn as it is, but this is where the story took me naturally, so I hope that's okay with everyone. I am going to be adding an extra chapter to this now to tell the story the way I want, so we will have five total chapters to this. I am already working on chapter three, and my goal is to write just this series until the next three chapters are done! Note: The sections of italics are used to indicate dream sequences for this fic - the way I use these are very specific and with intent... that's the only hint I will give you.

A huge thank you to @here2bbtstrash for being my beta reader - I give them huge beta projects with very little time to do them, and this story would not be nearly as polished or tuned as it is now without them. Also thank you to everyone who has been so encouraging and patient with me - your kind words are not lost on me and I'm thankful for you all!

☾ Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.

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Eyes in the sky crying geysers How dare I have private desires

-

First is your mother’s screaming. It’s loud enough to make you clap your hands over your ears, wincing as she drops all of the things in her hands. Second is your father storming into the house like a hurricane, an axe clutched in his hand from cutting wood in the yard. When he sees you, he blanches and takes a few steps back, raising the axe. 

“Demon,” he whispers. He reaches for your mother and pulls her behind him. “You are a demon.” 

“No, I-”

Without a warning, your father launches the axe at you. You scream, arms going up to block your face, unable to dodge the attack. There’s a loud crack as the axe hits an invisible barrier. You feel your hand fly to your open mouth, staring at the axe that’s now hewn in two on the floor. 

Silence follows the destruction of the weapon. In that silence, it occurs to you that your father has attempted to kill you, and was only stopped by whatever protection Yoongi promised you. The realization is dizzying and you stumble away from your parents a little, bumping into the wall that separates the kitchen and the entryway. 

No one says anything at first. Your mother clings to your father, trembling violently. Her hair is greyer than you remember and it looks like the last few days haven’t been kind to her. But she has always been soft and weak.

It’s your father who no longer looks the same. Always such an imposing figure in your life, he looks aged. His face is wrinkled, his hair is grey. His presence is so much smaller than you remember, once full of rage and ferocity, now just a terrified man in a doorway. 

You cannot believe this is the man you’ve spent most of your life afraid of. Where once stood a great fear of yours now stands nothing more than a shadow of a man. Weak. Afraid. Vulnerable. 

“You can’t hurt me anymore,” you say in a voice much steadier than you feel. “You can’t marry me off, you can’t make me burn my books, and you can’t hurt me anymore.”

“What kind of demon are you?”

It occurs to you that you could tell him you’re not a demon. You’re just you, with a little added protection. But the realization that they are afraid of you wakes up something ugly inside of you. Something oily, that slithers, something wicked and sharp.

You don’t have to tell them you’re not a demon. You don’t have to tell them that you are. They have come to that conclusion themselves, and it has put them beneath you. Afraid of you. You’re more powerful than you’ve ever been in this home. 

So you let them think you are. “The kind that survived Nathaniel Laudermill beating me in the woods and trying to drown me.” 

Your father straightens. “That wasn’t supposed to happen! You weren’t supposed to run and he- he wasn’t supposed to hurt you.”

“Well, he did. And he paid for it, didn’t he?” 

When you say it, you have a sneaking suspicion that Nathaniel Laudermill is dead. When your father nods feebly at your question, the knowledge slides into place. You don’t feel bad. It almost horrifies you that you don’t, but you think of the burning in your lungs, his nails against your skin, the roaring of the water. 

You’re glad Nathaniel is dead.

“What do you want from us? Money? Our lives?”

“Nothing.” You realize it’s true, suddenly stricken with wondering why you came back at all. “I want you to go about your lives, and let me do what I will.” 

Pushing off the wall, you turn around and head out the front door. You feel their eyes on you as you go, but you don’t look back.

For now, you walk out into the woods. Crickets chirp happily, growing quiet as you walk by and starting once again when you’re a distance from them. Under the shade of the trees, it’s cold. The river isn’t flooded up into the woods anymore, but the ground is soft beneath your feet, mud giving way to your steps.

It feels different when you walk through the woods this time. They aren’t as vibrant. No Tiera is lurking in the boughs of the wisteria. There’s no lake with merfolk peering at you with large, alien eyes. A world that was once so full of life and peace feels unsaturated now. Devoid of color. 

A nasty feeling creeps up on you as you walk. You look for the creatures of the wood, hoping to see their bright colors and little lives. A snake slithers away from you, but it’s just that. A snake with normal scales, in a normal bush. A rabbit rushes by, quick as lightning, a blur of fur.

None of the birds have plumes of purple feathers. There’s no trilling song that sounds like dreams spun into notes, no smell of drifting sweetness on the wind. The air is damp and cold, and it smells like fresh earth and water. But there’s nothing about it that seems as vibrant as before.

By the river, the water rushes as fast as your thoughts. You weren’t sure what to expect when you came home, but it wasn’t this. It wasn’t your parents thinking you were a demon, but that isn’t the worst part. 

The worst part is that only after two weeks, your world has lost its magic. It pales in comparison to Yoongi’s world or even your imagination. You stare at the water you used to think rushed with so much promise, the waxy leaves that used to contain so many shades of green. Now they’re just leaves and the river is just water. 

A tingle presses at your neck. You turn, expecting Yoongi to be looming behind you. There’s no one there, but the feeling of awareness doesn’t go away. Frowning, you lean against the tree and stare out into the woods unseeing. 

Clove and cinnamon hang in the air. You close your eyes, inhaling. The tingle at the back of your neck feels familiar. In your mind, you feel it like a phantom touch, sliding from your neck across your shoulder, dragging down the length of your arms until there is a soft twitch in your palm. 

It’s easy to imagine Yoongi this way. But when you open your eyes, Yoongi isn’t there. The feeling doesn’t go away. But you always have that feeling out here, the something of other. Your heart flutters at the thought of the god lurking somewhere that you can’t see. 

A silly thought. You brush it away, trying not to delude yourself into fantasies that Yoongi has any interest in you beyond your deal and beyond that night in the woods where you asked for help. Yoongi’s kindness is just that, and though you dream of him often, you know the difference between your dreams and reality. 

Instead of leaving to go back to the house, you sit down on the ground. Closing your eyes, you imagine a brighter world. A more magical world. It’s easier to do this than to contend with the fact that the woods you loved so dearly are not as you remember them. 

This, at least, is familiar. Sitting in the woods for hours and imagining worlds away from yours. Now, you imagine a specific world, made up of twilight and mountains in the distance. With a wonderful castle full of rooms saturated with candlelight and books you’re learning how to read.

When your stomach growls, you’re forced to stop your imagination and get up. You feel a bit better, knowing that you can at least remember what Yoongi’s dream realm looks like. Two weeks. You have two weeks until you can go back, and until then, Yoongi expects you to study. 

Back at the house, your parents stare in silence when you enter. You hardly look at them, walking to the kitchen as though they are merely ghosts harboring the same space as you. Your movements are methodical as you make yourself lunch. When you reach for the knife to cut cheese, you feel the pointed look of your parents. 

Part of you wants to turn around and scream at them to scare them. Another part of you has divorced the idea of them as your parents already. Yet you do nothing, biting a piece of cheese as you finish plating your meal and go to your room. They say nothing. 

Sitting on your bed, you eat your meal. The world is quiet for the most part, though the muted sound of nature hums beyond your closed window. You realize there is a desk in your room stacked with books, parchment, and inkwells. 

Heart racing, you get up from your bed and cross the room. You wipe your fingers on your shirt as you pick up a note written in Yoongi’s neat scrawl. You chew your lip as you look at the swirls and dips of letters on paper, immediately intimidated at the prospect of making sense of the writing. 

You take the note with you to the bed and begin to parse the letters and sentences apart. It takes all of your concentration, going over the sounds each letter makes in your head to build a word. It’s not fast work and it isn’t easy, but after a while, you work out the first sentence. 

Do not forget to practice every day. 

A smile makes your mouth twitch, both in pride that you managed to work out the sentence and at the thought of Yoongi hunched over his desk writing you a note.  

The second sentence is trickier. Afternoon light pours through your window as you spend another fifteen minutes sounding out the letters, quietly muttering them to yourself until you’ve got full words to build the sentence.

I will be watching, so you better practice as often as you can. 

You bite your lip. It sounds like a playful threat, quietly muttered in one of Yoongi’s teasing moments. You can almost hear the soft rasp of his voice and picture the smirk that would accompany his words. You shiver before reading the final sentence. 

Sleep well, and dream as often as you can.

The desk is a nice touch. You don’t remember seeing it this morning and you wonder how it got there. Remembering Yoongi’s magic is overwhelming. You’re still unsure what the limits of his power are, if there are any at all. 

Hunched over the papers, you begin to trace letters again. It feels good to have the quill in your hand. You’re careful not to spill the ink all over the paper like you do when you’re practicing in the library - you have a limited amount of parchment here, compared to Yoongi’s endless amounts in the House of Dreams. 

It does beg the question whether he’ll drop you off more magical paper if you run out, though. 

By the time your hand is cramping too much to practice more and your head hurts, it’s evening. Your parents are locked away in their room when you come out. You can hear the soft voice of your mother go silent when they hear you enter the kitchen for food before heading out to the porch.

Twilight skies stretch above you. Sitting on the edge of the porch, you watch the world fade from purple to black. The stars begin to dot the sky, the moon making her climb upward. You grin, feeling relieved that maybe not all of your world has lost its magic. 

Perhaps it’s just the light of day you’re no longer interested in. The night is far more mysterious and alluring, calling to you as you finish your last bite of dinner. You set your plate down on the porch and hop down, feeling the soft grass beneath your bare feet.

The last time you entered the woods in the dark, you were almost killed. That memory alone makes you pause at the edge of the woods. Your mouth dries a little bit and though the urge to step into the shadow of the night is strong, the memory of Nathaniel’s hands on your hair is stronger.

You turn around quickly and walk back to the house, picking up the plate along the way. It feels shameful to be afraid of the dark woods, a sour taste in your mouth as you lock yourself in your room and crawl onto the bed. 

Closing your eyes, you try not to think about Nathaniel. His yelling haunts you, the phantom grip of his fingers pulling your hair, the way your mouth filled with water- a hooting owl disturbs your spiraling thoughts. 

You open your eyes, straining your ears, only to find silence. Just as you begin to close your eyes again, you hear the hoot once more. Turning toward the window next to your bed, you sit up and pop the latch, casting open one of the shutters. 

Above the house, the moon is a glowing coin in the sky. Everything her light touches is awash in grey. Sticking your head out of the window, you sweep your gaze back and forth, trying to look for the sound of the hooting.

As though it senses your gaze, the owl hoots again. You see it this time. A great horned owl stares at you from its perch on top of a pile of chopped wood. Its eyes are burnished gold, like two burning beacons in the night. It’s a stunning owl, all browns and whites, feathers luminous under the sheen of the moon. It moves its head in a circle, opening and closing its beak.

Then, the owl surprises you. You flinch and sit backward on your haunches as it takes flight, great wings flapping as it flies to your window and lands on the ledge. You gasp in delight. The creature is far bigger up close, its ochre eyes warm and intelligent. 

The back of your neck tingles familiarly and you smile. 

“Are you supposed to watch over me?” The owl chirps, a much higher-pitched noise than the hoot. “Hmm. I see. Do you have a name?”

The owl bobs its head from side to side in an uncanny movement. Though you’re not sure, you think it means to tell you no. “Well, what if I give you one?” The owl chirps again. “What about… Moony?” 

Fluffing its feathers, the owl shifts back and forth and lets out a hiss. You giggle, covering your mouth as the bird settles, looking at you in a way that certainly feels haughty and bothered. “Alright. What about… Dream?” Another hiss and a bob no. “Okay, well you’re making this quite difficult. What about…”

A dozen names run through your mind. You think of the owl as Yoongi’s way to watch over you at night. It makes you feel warm and far less alone than you were before. It’s nice knowing that you have a protector, someone to warn Yoongi if you’re ever in danger. Or to steer you away from your bad thoughts.

“How about Guardian?” you offer. It blinks two large eyes before chirping and bobbing its head in a circle, pleased at the name. You grin and slowly reach your hand forward. “I like it. Guardian, then.” 

Gently, the owl leans forward and lets you brush its feathers. They are silky under your touch, each plume delicate and wonderful. You can’t help but smile, stroking the owl's chest until it shuffles back and forth and gives a short hoot.

“Go on,” you urge. “Do whatever you need to do. I’ll leave the window open?”

Guardian hoots in affirmation before shuffling its wings and flying off into the night. 

Laying in your back, you stare up through the open window, watching the stars go past. Slowly, you feel sleep pull at your edges, beckoning you to give in. You finally do, drifting asleep under the silver light of the moon and a blanket of stars. 

-

Yoongi sits in front of the fireplace in the library. You blink a few times, a little dazed. You don’t remember how you got here, but you know the smell of this library and you know that shadowy frame better than anything. It suddenly makes you ache to realize how much you miss it already. 

As if sensing your presence, Yoongi turns to look at you. He smirks, showing no sign of surprise at seeing you standing behind him. He gestures to the armchair next to him and you grin, quick to join him. 

Warmth leaps from the fireplace, the logs popping and crackling under the hungry, orange flames. Yoongi is dressed in a simple linen shirt and pants, his necklaces reflecting the burning light. He watches you sit down and fold your feet onto the chair. 

“Am I here? Or am I dreaming?” you ask. 

“Are both not possible?”

You think about it. “Well yes, I suppose they are. I’m dreaming but I can come here because I’m dreaming.”

“Clever girl.” Yoongi’s eyes dance as he looks you up and down. “How was your first day back?”

“Strange. I…” You chew on your lip, wrapping your arms around your legs. Suddenly, you feel more at home than you did earlier that day in the place you were raised. You think about the woods out behind your house, the alien way you felt among trees that should be familiar. “It feels as though the world doesn’t hold as much magic anymore.”

“What do you mean?”

“Like here. It is so vibrant and beyond imagining that now that I’ve gone back… nothing compares.”

Yoongi hums. “I promise you that there is so much magic in your world. There is real magic in living that cannot be found among the imaginary.” 

You rest your chin on your knees and sigh heavily. “If only I could find it.” 

“You will.” 

Silence passes between you. It’s comfortable. You watch the dancing fire, the world fading away. Though you are acutely aware that Yoongi is staring at your side profile, you don’t squirm or feel anxiety. You simply feel peace, happy to be here. Happy to be with him.

That makes your stomach flutter. At least you’re not dreaming of him in ways you shouldn’t tonight. As soon as you think about it, you feel your cheeks heat up hotter than the flames from the fireplace. 

After a little while Yoongi sighs, drawing your attention back to him. “You should sleep.” 

“I thought I was.”

“Sort of. You’re more… dreamwalking right now. You’re not really resting.” 

“Do I have to stay here?” The question is small. You don’t meet his eyes when you ask, suddenly filled with shame that you can’t even last a day in the world you’ve known for over twenty years. “There’s nothing for me here.”

“There is. You just have to find it again.”

“I don’t know how.” 

Yoongi stands up. You look up at him and see that his expression is soft. Kind. Your heart speeds up, tongue heavy in your mouth as he slowly reaches out to you. His hand hesitates for a second, pauses in mid-air like he’s unsure, and then he touches your cheek lightly. “Trust me.” 

Before you can respond, Yoongi is walking away. The skin on your cheek tingles where his fingers were a moment before, a shiver racing up your spine. You lift your hands to touch your cheek where his fingers were moments ago. You can’t help but smile, fondness for him growing. Blooming. 

Leaning back in the chair, you close your eyes and settle into real sleep. 

-

Tap tap tap. 

You twitch your nose and roll your head to the side, sniffing. For a moment, it felt like something had been tapping your nose, almost waking you from sleep. You start to sink back into it, pulling your covers tighter as your thoughts drift… further…

Tap tap tap. 

You frown. Now you’re awake, your thoughts clawing their way to break the surface of sleep. When you finally collect yourself and register that you’re waking up, you open your eyes to reveal a face hovering inches from yours, so close that you cannot make out the features. 

A shriek rips through your room as you scramble away from the face, clutching your blanket. You slam into the wall near the window, heart hammering as you press yourself flat, trying to make yourself small. 

Taehyung falls backwards on his ass, covering his ears and giving you a ghastly expression, as though horrified to be screamed at in such a manner. Your hand clutches your chest as you realize it’s him sitting on your floor and him who had been inches from your face - tapping your nose. 

“What are you doing?” you holler at him, fisting your blankets. You suddenly feel sick, the adrenaline making your stomach turn and your head spin. Groaning, you lay on your side, squeezing your eyes shut. Colors coalesce behind your eyelids as you take deep breaths, hoping it will pass. “Are you insane?”

“Well, that is up for debate.” 

You open your eyes and glare at him. 

Taehyung sits with his long legs out in front of him, leaning back on his palms. His dark hair hangs in his eyes as he grins at you, giddy. He’s dressed in a flowing white shirt with laces at the front that he’s kept open, revealing a tanned chest. His shirt is tucked into brown trousers and you spot a small chain with a charm tied through one of his belt loops.

You think you recognize the charm from one of Yoongi’s necklaces. 

“What are you doing here?” 

“Visiting, obviously.”

“You can just… visit?” 

“I do what I want.” 

As the adrenaline rush fades, you slowly sit up, glaring at the man on your floor. “I doubt that. How did you get in here, anyway?” 

“Your window is open.” 

The window in question is still wide open from last night, only now, morning light streams through. The air is cool and smells of rain, the wind rushing through the trees and making them bend and dance under its guidance. A robin flits from bough to bough, singing. 

“So you came through the window?” 

“No, I came through the front door. No one else is home.” 

“Then why did you say you came through the window?”

“I didn’t. I said the window was open.” Taehyung gives you a white, square grin. You clench your teeth and resist the urge to throw a pillow at him. Though you’re pleased to see him, you’re equally as vexed by his teasing. “Anyway, I want you to show me around.”

“Show you around what?” 

He gets up from the floor, clapping his hands together to get rid of the dirt and dust before doing the same to his pants. He shrugs, giving you a cheery smile. “I don’t know. Anything. Everything. I want to see what your life here was like.” 

“It wasn’t very good.”

“That’s okay. I want to see it anyway.” 

Slowly, you get out of bed. He makes room for you, walking over toward the desk where your writing practice sheets are. He flips through them, examining your work as you eye him, stretching. Your joints pop and you groan, eyes fluttering at the release of tension. 

“Why?” you ask. He looks up at you, brows raised in a question. “Why do you want to see?”

Taehyung contemplates his answer. He taps one long finger on top of your tracing. “You’re getting better.” He leans against the desk and crosses his arms, regarding you steadily. “I’ll make you a deal. Show me about your life here. Teach me about you. And I’ll tell you about me.” 

That sparks your interest. You know so little about Taehyung, even in the two weeks that you’ve lived in the House of Dreams. He is a charming mystery, someone who speaks in riddles and likes to goad you and talk about so much that you realize he talks about nothing at all. At least, not anything substantial. 

For the amount of things you know about Taehyung, like how he enjoys cinnamon in his tea or that his favorite color is green like the bottom of the lake, or how his favorite snacks are honey cakes or that music makes him cry, you also know… nothing about him. Where he comes from. Who he was before he was Yoongi’s companion in a big, lonely castle. 

Sighing, you walk up to him and extend your arm. “Deal.”

Taehyung’s hand is warm and tingles when you shake it. He grins at you, happier than ever before he drops your hand and gestures at your clothes. “Well go on,” he says. “Change out of your nighties. Unless of course, you’d like to stay in them.”

“Get out of my room and I will!”

He raises his brows. “Don’t want me to watch? How boring.” 

You don’t take his teasing to heart. You’ve already adapted to Taehyung’s jesting and prodding, learning that it’s a key part to the way that he shows his affections. For the first few days, you’d thought perhaps he didn’t like you much, but after seeing him rib Yoongi for two hours straight in the library, you realized it was good that he was teasing you.

You open the small trunk of clothes and slide on pants and a loose shirt. When you enter the main house, you find Taehyung standing on the porch with his arms crossed over his chest, looking into the woods with a frown. Tucking in your shirt, you step out onto the porch, the wood creaking underneath your weight. 

“What is it?” you ask when Taehyung doesn’t turn to greet you. His eyes are dark and there’s an expression on his face that makes you nervous. “Is there something out there?”

Instead of answering directly, he asks, “Is that where Yoongi found you?” 

Oh. Oh. Taehyung is looking at the woods where you ran off the night that your parents tried to make you marry Nathaniel. You nod and hum, trying not to think much about it as you finish tucking in the shirt and adjusting the material. 

“There’s a bad energy there,” Taehyung observes. He turns away from the woods finally and drops his hands at his side. “You should stay away from that place moving forward.”

“I didn’t exactly go in there on purpose.”

“I know.” Something flashes in his eyes. “Best not to do it again, if you can help it. You can go into the woods, just not there.” 

“Okay…” 

You wait for Taehyung to elaborate, but he doesn’t. A chill settles over your skin, the wind picking up to rustle the trees. He shrugs and grins, the dark expression gone in a flash as he gestures for you to enter back through the house and leave by way of the front door. 

Taheyung follows you, a bounce to his step as he hurries to walk next to you. You say nothing as you lead him out of the yard and toward the main road by your home that leads into town, your stomach fluttering with nervousness as you go. 

If Taehyung is confused as to why you’re not starting the story of your life at home, he doesn’t let on. He tucks his hands into his pockets and walks next to you, his feet crunching the gravel beneath his boots and the wind lifting his hair.

Studying Taehyung’s side profile, you think he looks like something from a dream. He has the kind of beauty that seems purposeful and handcrafted, each one of his features carefully designed to be the wonderful, glowing being that he is. 

You don’t know what he is, really. But you’ve made a deal and you have to deliver on your end first. 

“We live a bit away from town,” you say eventually. “My father inherited the house after his father, who was a very talented wood carver. He used to cut the trees here himself and decide which tree was perfect for what project, which is why we live almost thirty minutes from town.” 

“A wood carver is a nice talent to have.”

You nod. “He was very good. It made a good income. My father had no talent for it, though, and opened up a store instead. He sold my grandfather’s wares and then eventually added items from other folks in town, including my mother's clothes. She’s a seamstress.” 

“You were wearing a dress the night Yoongi brought you home.”

Home. Taehyung says it so easily, like he’s already accepted that the House of Dreams is yours as much as it’s his. A warm feeling blooms through you, and you look up at Taehyung and smile at him despite the looming subject of the doomed wedding dress. He returns your smile just as broadly, even if he doesn’t know the reason for your sudden turn of happiness. 

“Yeah. That was one she made,” you sigh, turning back to the road. “A wedding dress.” 

“It was beautiful, but I did burn it in the fire.” You look at him with your brows raised and he gives you a sheepish shrug. “You were assaulted in that dress. We wanted nothing to do with it.”

“I’m glad that you did. I never want to remember that night again.”

“Good. Memories have a way of haunting us, even when we don’t know it.” 

Taehyung’s tone is ominous. Instead of asking him what he means, you let his weighted silence fall around you, propelling the both of you toward the town. 

As you get closer, houses and other roads begin to pop up. You see the pathways leading up to the homes of your neighbors, pointing out each one to Taehyung along with filling him in on summaries of their family histories and gossip. He listens with a conspiratorial smirk, gasping and asking you scandalous questions as you whisper rumors you’ve long heard from eavesdropping on your parents. 

Gossiping with Taehyung is nice. You feel lighter than you had the day before, nearly skipping as you near the town proper. You start passing people on the road. Normally, you’d greet the ones you know. Now, you hear gasps as people flinch when they see you, making signs with their hands to ward off evil. 

You blink in surprise, glancing at Taehyung for his reaction. He frowns when he sees the second group of people do it. By the third, he pulls a snarling face at them, making a child cry. You jam your finger in his ribs and he hisses in pain, shoving lightly back.

“What?” he demands. “You’re not evil. That sign doesn’t do anything, either. If one of the more malevolent deities wanted to snatch them, they would.”

“Really?”

Taehyung rubs his ribs where you poked him. You pass the bakery owned by the Yen family, heavenly smells wafting out the door. “Of course they would,” he huffs. “Most deities aren’t bound by the rules and logic the mortals try to make to create a sense of safety from them. Many can simply do what they want.”

“Then why don’t they?”

“Because of Eternals, like Yoongi. The gods who are always here, never changing. That’s why they’re called Eternals.” 

“I see. There’s seven of them, right?” Taehyung hums the affirmative. As you pass a music shop, Taehyung slows. His hands are linked behind his back as he eyes the instruments through the window and gestures at them. You nod and follow him indoors, the bell on the door above chiming. “So other deities are afraid of them?”

“Of course they are,” Taehyung muses. He stops to admire a mandolin. “Yoongi, for example, is a being that creates dreams themselves. He manipulates reality. He can create things on a whim. He’s almost as powerful as life.”

“Really?”

“What are dreams if not creation? The difference isn’t all that big, though it drives Seokjin mad to admit it.”

“Who?”

Taehyung plucks the string of another instrument. You don’t know what it is, but the note is sharp, making you cringe. “Life, of course.”

“You know Life? What are you?”

He glances at you sidelong. “We’re supposed to learn about you first. I’m doing a lot of talking.”

“Not like it’s hard to get you going,” you mutter. 

Taeyung shoots you a scowl, but is interrupted by the shop owner coming around the corner. He’s a man in his late thirties, greeting Taehyung politely and wiping his hands on his trousers. He asks Taehyung if he’s looking for anything and just as Taehyung leans out of the way to reveal you standing behind him, the shop owner’s eyes go to you and he gasps, stumbling backward. 

“You’re supposed to be dead,” he whispers, his back bumping into a shelf of items. You feel a shiver slip down your spine as you stare at him, arms tingling. He makes the symbol to ward off evil, the whites of his eyes wild. “Evil. Evil creature, you are a demon. You do not-”

“Another word,” Taehyung cuts in, his voice dark in a tone you’ve never heard. “And I’ll show you what evil is, sir.” 

“G-god of Light spare me.”

“Your God of Light won’t answer.” Taehyung spins on his heel, facing you. His expression is thunder, his gaze dark and eyes wild as he hisses, “Speak their name all you wish. It's not daytime in here, sir.” 

For the two weeks you’ve known Taehyung, you’ve never seen him like this. The room feels oppressive and dark, and you swear the lights have dimmed, shadows pressing up against the wall as Taehyung strides forward and passes you, taking your arm firmly in his hand.

Taehyung escorts you out of the store, walking swiftly. When you hit daylight, the oppressive dark sheds itself immediately. Taehyung’s presence dims with the sun beating down on him and turning his skin copper, black hair shining almost blue in the light.

He lets go of your arm and shoots you a troubled gaze. “Don’t listen to him,” he grunts. “You’re not a demon, nor are you evil.”

“My parents called me the same thing.” He scowls and begins pacing. To keep him moving, you start walking toward the other side of town where the old cemetery and abandoned church is. You don’t know why you go there, but you’re drawn to it. “They called me a demon.” 

“Demons are much nastier. You might be annoying, but certainly not a demon.”

You scowl and he shrugs. “I didn’t realize everyone here thought I died. I thought I would come back and it would be…”

“Normal?” You shrug a shoulder. 

The houses on the edge of town are shabbier than the rest. People hesitate in their doorways, staring at you and the tall, handsome man next to you. You see them do the warding sign as you go, and you squeeze your hands into fists as they do. 

Weeds crawl up the side of the old church. The structure leans heavily to the left, the stairs unusable and the ceiling fallen in. Instead of walking up the hazardous steps and inside the dilapidated building, you lead Taehyung around it, where the grass grows higher than your knees and the sound of grasshoppers buzzing by you follows. 

A dry-rotted fence surrounds what was once a graveyard. You walk toward it, leading Taehyung until he starts slowing down a few paces behind you. You stop and turn over your shoulder to look at him, bringing your hand up to shield your eyes from the sun. 

Taehyung looks thoughtful, dark eyes scanning the area. He’s stopped walking entirely, head cocked to the side. “Why’d you bring me here?” 

“I don’t know. I just… walked in this direction. I used to come here for the silence, sometimes.”

Taehyung has a strange look on his face. “Is that so?” 

“Why do you look like that?” 

“How long has this place been here?” 

“The church closed before I could remember. Honestly, they said it was haunted by this graveyard, which has been here a lot longer than the church. Even the oldest families in town don’t have their dead buried here. Rumor has it that it was built long before the town was.” 

Taehyung starts walking normally again. Side by side, you begin to navigate around the graveyard. “And you come here? Why?” 

“It’s quiet. When I was too young to stay at the house alone, my mom would bring me to town while she ran errands. I was allowed to explore, but I liked to come here.”

“Most kids are afraid of places of the dead.” 

You shrug. “It was quiet, and it gave me time to imagine things. I liked to make up fantasies about the old gods here or… what I imagined they might be. Of heroes descended from them, maybe.” 

“And you felt drawn here?” 

You startle when a grasshopper shoots across the grass in front of you. You laugh as it vanishes into the foliage. “Yeah, it just felt… safe.” 

“Strange.” 

“Am I allowed to ask why or are you going to complain you’re talking too much again?”  He snorts and gestures for you to continue. “Why is that strange? Beyond the fact that it’s, you know, a graveyard.” 

Sighing, Taehyung squints up at the line of trees nearby. His hand hovers along the tops of the grass as he runs it over each blade, letting the tips tickle his hands. You’re almost waist high in grass, glancing down to make sure you don’t step into any holes. 

“This place is old. The people of the church felt haunted because they were. Death owns this land.” 

You frown. “Well, the dead are here. The other graveyard doesn’t feel the same.”

“You misunderstand me. Death - the Eternal. His presence is all over. Someone important to him must be buried here.” 

“Oh.” 

You stop and think about that. Turning to look at the unmarked and lime washed tombstones, you scan for any sign of Death. You have no idea what you’re looking for. Ivy and time have taken over most of the concrete slabs, and none of the names or dates are legible by now. They’re just hewn stone, buried in green and grime. 

But you feel something here, a tingling on the back of your neck like the one you felt in the woods by your house. A chill wind blows over the land, sweeping the grass and rattling the trees. You feel the breeze against your neck, cool as fingers trailing down your spine. 

Suddenly, you feel a buzz on your skin. It’s not so different from Yoongi’s presence, and it chills you. 

You look up at Taehyung with wide, fearful eyes. He smiles and shakes his head. “You don’t need to be afraid of Death. Death is neither good nor bad, he just is. He only takes those who are ready.” 

“Have you met - um - Death?” 

Taehyung nods. “He is a man of few words, but Namjoon is unwaveringly kind and wise.”

“Strange that I was drawn to coming here.” You head back toward the town. The sun passes its zenith and makes its way into the early afternoon. “Is this whole place filled with Eternals or what?”

“No, it’s actually a rather unremarkable location. Namjoon lingers in many places. Yoongi was simply drawn here.” 

“By what?” 

Instead of answering the question, Taehyung sticks his hands in his pockets. “Show me more of your town.” 

So you do. Taehyung is a good companion. Where Yoongi would quietly observe and make sounds to indicate that he’s listening and admires the things you’re talking about, Taehyung asks questions. You realize he’s a tactile person as well. He touches things as he walks by them, brushing his fingers on fabric, touching jewelry at vendor stands.

Everywhere you go is a similar reaction to the instrument store. People seem happy to see Taehyung at first before they see you, fear making them lean away and ward you off. You realize you don’t know how much time has passed since you vanished from the woods and returned. 

When you ask Taehyung, he shrugs and explains that time moves differently and inconsistently. It could have been a day, it could have been a week, it could have been five months. By the looks on the faces of those you pass, you think perhaps it’s been a little longer than you anticipated.

Part of you wonders what lie your parents must have told them about your death. You almost want to ask, but you don’t, anxiety stilling your tongue. You probably wouldn’t be able to get close enough to anyone to ask anyway. 

By the time the sun has sunk beyond the horizon and the moon has begun its climb, you and Taehyung stop at the tavern to eat. Your stomach rumbles as you step into the warmth of the room behind Taehyung, and you notice that the place goes quiet.

It’s subtle at first, something you don’t notice as you kick dirt off your shoes, but the hush becomes so intense that you can’t help but look up, gaze sweeping the room as everyone turns to stare at you. 

Behind the counter, the barkeep straightens. His name is Sloan - you’ve known him since you were a little girl - and he looks less than happy at your arrival.

“I know I’m pretty,” Taehyung announces loudly, tossing the hair out his eyes. “But you don’t need to stare.”

“You aren’t welcome here,” Sloan says, voice wavering like he’s unsure if he means it. “Begone, demon. We are men and women of life and light!”

You swallow thickly and look around, feeling prickly heat crawl up your neck. 

Like at the music shop, something happens to Taehyung, except this time, it’s stronger than before. The candles in the chandelier and on the tables flicker in a phantom wind and darkness pulses in the room. You feel energy rolling off of him and you swear Taehyung gets darker as he steps forward, his presence oppressive and threatening. 

There is crying and gasping in the room as he seethes. “We are not demons, and you will not disallow this woman to enter your shops, your homes, or anywhere else she wishes.” 

“Taehyung,” you whisper, throat dry. 

He doesn’t seem to hear you. You swear there is thunder in the distance. Whatever power belonging to Taehyung is tenfold now that the night sky stretches over the tavern. “Refuse her service, and there will be consequences.”

“Taehyung,” you hiss, snatching his sleeve. You pull his attention to you. His eyes are like two obsidian coins. There is something sharp and lupine about his face, sending your heart hammering. “Stop. This is making it worse.” 

“They should not insult you.”

“It’s fine.”

He softens a touch. “It isn’t. You are not… they do not understand you.”

“They never have. Come on, let’s just go.”

For a second, you think he might not. You don’t know what Taehyung is or what he can do. It doesn’t frighten you, though. Because whatever Taehyung is and whatever his intentions are, he’s linked to Yoongi. Yoongi would never put you in harm's way or let Taehyung near you if he was a threat.

Even after such a short period of time, you know this in your heart of hearts.

Taehyung relents and the light returns to the room. No one makes a sound, all eyes on Taehyung as he lets you pull him out of the door and into the night. You immediately feel better outside, the moon washing your skin in light and the stars watching you march into the street. 

“You can’t just threaten everyone who insults me,” you snap, though you’re not really mad at him. “They’re only going to hate me more. And they will think you’re a demon when you do that.”

“I’m far more powerful than a demon,” he sniffs primly. “And they should not insult you. You have the favor of Dream. You are -” he cuts himself off and shakes his head. “Well, you’re far above their station. They know nothing.”

“Far above their station,” you snort, crushing a rock under the toe of your boot. “I’m a girl who was strange when they knew me before they thought I was dead, and now they think I’m a demon walking around with her scary demon husband. Or perhaps they think you are an evil entity.” 

“Don’t make that joke around Yoongi,” Taehyung mutters, putting his hands on his hips. Before you can ask what that means, he says, “What if I took you somewhere instead, then?”

You raise your brows and look around. “Where?”

“Well not here. Somewhere familiar to me, where they won’t ostracize you.”

“We’re going to travel in the middle of the night.”

Taehyung gives you a square grin that lights up the world. “Time to learn about how we travel.”

-

You almost vomit on Taehyung’s shoes. He squeals and steps out of the way as you bend over, holding your middle as bile burns its way up your throat and splatters onto the gravel beneath you. It feels like your world is spinning and you’ve lost your center of gravity, having been pulled by something sharp in your stomach into a vortex of what felt like twisting and spinning.

It could only have lasted a second, but Taehyung has to hold you up for a moment as you gasp for air, the taste in your mouth sour and gross. You crane your face to look at him, glaring as he winces. He had given you no warning of what his travel was like or how it would feel.

You’re not looking forward to it again.

“What,” you pant, “was that?”

“Teleportation, mostly. I kind of forgot what it feels like when you’re… human. You get a little scrambled.”

The nausea makes your throat clench and unclench again. You dig your fingers into his arm as you dry heave but nothing comes up. “A little?” you rasp. The world slows its spinning and the watering feeling in your mouth that preludes puking fades. “That was awful.”

“Sorry, it’s different than portaling. That’s more stepping through the door while teleportation is like... Jumping.”

“Don’t jump me again any time soon.”

Taehyung pats your back heartily as you stand up straight. The stars swim above you in a spiraling cosmos. You close your eyes and take a few deep breaths, waiting as the nausea fades away and the world around you bleeds into the forefront of your attention span. 

Noise hums from in front of you. You’re standing in an alleyway, looking up at the side of a building. It looks a bit like an inn, but you can hear the clamor of a crowd and loud voices coming from inside. Each window is curtained, keeping wandering eyes and the moonlight outside. 

Taehyung leads you around to the front of the building. It’s two stories and on the first floor there’s a porch filled with chairs and gambling tables. There are men and women draped over the furniture, smoking sweet-smelling cigars and laughing loudly as they throw dice on the table. 

Women and men in various states of undress sit on the laps of the others. You feel heat crawl up your neck as you avert your eyes, looking up at the sign hanging over the building that says Desert Rose. Nervousness tingles at the back of your neck as Taehyung strolls up the steps to what you’re sure is a brothel and a gambling den, greeting people as he goes.

You’re shocked that Taehyung knows people here. You’re sure that you’re still in… your dimension, as Yoongi calls it. The people here talk with an accent that is different from what you’re used to, but you still understand the language, even while struggling to keep up with the lilt.

Eyes follow you as Taehyung leads you inside. The air is thick with perfume, smoke, and loud voices. Tables are pressed closely together, filled with people. There’s a bar at the back of the room and a small bard and band in a corner, singing a raucous song with the crowd about Lady Trown who gets around and will go down. 

“Where did you bring me?” you ask Taehyung as he guides you through the rowdy room. A woman falls over a card game laughing, her breasts spilling out of her shirt while another woman plants a kiss right on her mouth. “This place is - is -”

There are no words for it. You’ve never been somewhere that is so openly indecent and carnal in your life and yet… the colors and the sounds and the overflowing joy hit you like an arrow to the chest. You can’t help but be drawn to look at the exposed bodies before darting your gaze away, only to be drawn somewhere else out of insatiable curiosity. 

“A haven!” Taehyung offers as he leans on the bar. “Two pints of whatever!” 

You press close against him, hands shooting to his shirt as someone pushes by you. It’s a little overwhelming and you feel hot all over. Taehyung shoves a wooden tankard of amber liquid into your hands and grins, raising another to his lips before taking several swigs, liquid running down his chin and neck. 

He comes away and smacks his lips, giving you a delighted grin. “It’s awful, just the way I like it!”

You take a sip and make a face. The watered-down ale is certainly nothing like the sweet wine Yoongi likes to treat you to over dinner. Taehyung seems to know this, laughing loudly as he leads you through the crowd toward an empty table in the corner. 

Back against the wall, you take a moment to look around the room. There are card and dice games being held at multiple tables, alongside other games with rune-marked stones, cups and trinkets that you don’t recognize.

It’s wildly different from anything back home. You’ve never been to a brothel - at least, you think this place qualifies for one, based on the various states of undress and a few couples doing something that makes you avert your eyes - but this is nice. In its own loud and carnal way.

Taehyung people-watches with you. He feeds you information on the faces that he recognizes, lips curling as he gossips. He looks alive and happy, his golden skin glowing with a radiance that seems a little magical. 

“So is it my turn to ask questions?” you ask, sipping the awful beer as you look over at Taehyung. His gaze reluctantly strays away from watching a card game where you’re pretty sure the woman who is winning is cheating. “Or do I still have to talk about myself?” 

He smirks. “You can ask questions, a deal is a deal.”

“What is this place?” 

“The Desert Rose.” 

You glare. “What is this place to you?” 

Taehyung takes a sip of his ale and grins, winking at you. “A better question. This place is somewhere I used to visit when I wanted to feel alive. When I wanted to feel humanity for its raw intensity.”

“So you’re not human.” He shakes his head. His face grows a little hesitant, but he doesn’t tell you to stop. “What are you?” 

“I’m a dream.” 

You blink once. Twice. You expect Taehyung to start laughing and indicate that he was teasing you, but he doesn’t. He leans back in his chair, watching you evenly with his dark eyes. 

“What?” you finally ask.

“I’m a dream. The second ever, actually.”

You think about what you’ve observed of Taehyung. The way that he seems to draw people in, the animated manner in which he speaks. He seems to contain so many multitudes of the things you know that Yoongi enjoys, and yet so many things that press Yoongi’s buttons and rattle him. 

Taehyung is… beautiful. Enchanting. Both to look at, and to talk to. He has a carefree personality and you know he’s magical, having witnessed it in the House of Dreams in snippets but also today, when he became angry and the darkness seemed to swell around him. Not to mention his awful teleportation to wherever you are in the world now.

He is exactly the kind of person you always imagined being the lead in your fantasies. Brave and charming, handsome and adventurous. He looks like he belongs here, melding to the energy around him, fitting in perfectly.

Suddenly, the thought of Taehyung being a dream makes more sense than anything else. A being of infinite possibilities, one who can shape themselves to anyone and anything, who can sense what people want and become that very thing.

You’re not sure what the complexities of dreams are, but you understand the very basics from Yoongi: most dreams are flexible and full of infinite possibilities. It’s what makes them so real, so strong. 

“That makes a lot of sense,” you murmur. “So you’re old.”

“Very.”

“If you’re the second dream…” you trail off, thinking about how Yoongi explained how he came to existence. How life dreamed and so he was born. “Yoongi is the first. That’s why you say he is Dream - he is the first and the essence of dreams.”

“Very clever.”

“When you said you came here to feel alive, what did you mean by that?”

He sighs heavily. “Yoongi was born because Life dreamed of - well, making life. And when Yoongi was born, he was the very concept of dreaming itself. Imagination, creation, wonder, hope. It’s why creation and dreaming are so close in their nature. But still, there is a difference between lifeforms and dreams.” 

“You wanted to know what it was like to feel life?”

He nods. “Yoongi made me as his first companion. He couldn’t help it, really. He didn’t make me on purpose so much as he thought of someone to spend time with, someone to offset him. To balance him. And then there I was.” 

You chew on your lip. There is a distant look in Taehyung’s gaze. He stares at his ale, not drinking anymore. He picks at splinters in the tankard handle, the noise around the two of you a dull roar. 

“But?” you offer, sensing his hesitance. 

“But,” he agrees, nodding. “When Life created humans, I wondered what the difference was between us. I sort of looked like them and I talked like them, but I wanted to know what it was like to be them. And dreams… They are wonderful. Beautiful. But I was afraid they weren’t real, so I started to visit here. To go places. To see if life was the same as dreams.” 

“Is it?”

He shakes his head. “It’s not better, it’s not worse. It’s just different. But I did learn that dreams are as real as life. Perhaps you cannot always see them and feel them depending on where you are, but anything someone dreams here is real there.” 

“That’s sort of comforting.” 

Taehyung smiles. “It is. Plus, I really enjoy people. They have an edge to them that dreams don’t.” 

Someone catches Taehyung’s attention. He turns in his seat, head craning as though he senses something. You follow his line of sight to where a young man descends the stairs leading up to the second floor. He is unlike anything you’ve ever seen, with dark, silky hair tucked behind his ears, full lips that pull into a smile as someone greets him, and sharp, dark eyes that crinkle when he laughs.

He’s beautiful. Suddenly you think that this might be what a dream truly looks like. Taehyung is all dark and shadows, but the man Taehyung watches is lightness and magic, his face so perfect that you cannot help but imagine it must be the result of someone carefully painting every feature. 

Your eyes flicker back to Taehyung when the man leans on the bar, talking to the barmaid behind the counter. Taehyung doesn’t move. You don’t even think he’s breathing. He sits in his chair, knuckles paling under the grip he has on the back of his seat, his eyes filled with such sudden longing that you have to look away. 

“Who is that?” you ask gently. Taehyung doesn’t seem to hear you. He watches and watches, wanting to look nowhere else but at the bar. “Taehyung?”

“His name is Jimin.” 

“That’s a pretty name.”

Taehyung nods. “He’s like you.”

“Like me?”

“He dreams loud enough for us to hear it. For me to hear it. I’ve been coming to this place long before he existed. A silly coincidence that he exists here, too.” 

“Fate, perhaps?” 

That makes Taehyung turn around. His expression is dark and he’s frowning. “Don’t start talking about Hoseok,” Taehyung mutters. “Lest he show up.”

You didn’t mean Yoongi’s sibling Fate, but you realize that’s who Taehyung is talking about. Your eyes drift back to where Jimin is at the bar, sipping a glass of amber liquid. As though he senses eyes on him, his gaze sweeps the bar until it lands on Taehyung, who straightens immediately. 

Jimin smiles and it’s like watching the first ray of sun break over the horizon. You can’t help but blink at his radiant beauty, completely taken aback by it as Jimin pushes off of the bar and begins heading your direction. 

Taehyung swivels in his chair, taking in a few calming breaths. You giggle and he looks up at you, giving you a pitiful smile. You reach across the table and squeeze his hand quickly. “Don’t be nervous.”

“I’m not nervous!”

“You definitely are.”

Before Taehyung can hiss a rebuttal at you, Jimin sidesteps a woman and grins at Taehyung. He drags his gaze to you and startles, as though he had not realized you were there, eyes going round and mouth forming an ‘o’. 

“Sorry, I didn’t realize you were with anyone,” Jimin says. His voice is soft and smooth, immediately comforting. “I wanted to come say hello.”

“Hi,” Taehyung breathes, blinking up at Jimin as though he is lost in starlight. Perhaps he is, you think. “Your hair is longer than the last time I saw you.”

Jimin flushes, a hand coming up to touch the ends of his hair gently. “Yeah, I thought I would grow it out.”

“It looks great.” 

For a moment, they stare at one another, Taehyung grinning with his eyes gleaming, and Jimin soft with his eyes scrunched. You look at the table, trying not to disrupt whatever spell they’re under as they peer at one another, but it seems Jimin senses your presence still. His eyes flicker to you and he raises a brow, questioning.

Taehyung fumbles to introduce you, turning and giving you a sheepish grin. You smile and stretch your hand over to shake Jimin’s. His hands are small and delicate but his grip is firm. “It’s nice to meet you. Taehyung wanted to show me this place because he enjoys the people so much - I believe that includes you.” 

Jimin smirks and shrugs a shoulder while Taehyung looks for a chair, yanking it away from someone to give Jimin a place to sit. He does, throwing Taehyung a grateful smile. “Hmm, is that so? Has he said nice things about me?”

“The nicest. In fact, the whole reason we came here is because he wanted to introduce me to the amazing Jimin.” 

Taehyung shoots you a look that tells you to shut up, but you hide your grin in your tankard as Jimin raises a brow, glancing at Taehyung. 

Watching Taehyung and Jimin is comedic and sweet. Taehyung isn’t an entirely different person around Jimin, but he becomes softer at the edges, his smiles gentler and his laughs louder. The longing in Taehyung’s gaze when he thinks Jimin isn’t looking is palpable, and even as a bystander and a friend, you feel a pang watching the two of them dance around one another. 

For his part, Jimin seems equally enthralled. He watches Taehyung with rapt attention, asking questions and touching Taehyung gently everywhere he can - the tops of Taehyung’s hands, his arm, his elbow. When Taehyung turns around to watch the table next to you topple over, you realize he’s unaware that Jimin is looking at him as though begging for Taehyung to see. 

You see. And you want. 

Never before had your parents inspired much desire for love in you. While they worked well together, you still can’t call what they had happy or loving. Functional, sure. Successful, even. But they did not look at one another the way Taehyung and Jimin seem to, and you can’t help but suddenly feel like that is something you want.

Someone to look at you when they think you’re not looking in a way that implies you are their sun and moon. Someone who smiles with such mirth at something you do or say that you can feel the heat of it. 

Jimin gets up to refill the drinks, scooping yours with a grin before vanishing in the crowd. Taehyung watches him go, craning his neck to ensure he has eyes on Jimin as he makes his way to the bar.

“Have you told him you’re in love with him?” 

Taehyung shakes his head, eyes never leaving where Jimin is leaning over the bar to order. “There’s no point.” 

“What? Why not?”

“I’m a dream. He’s a human. We could never be something.” 

“Oh. Surely there’s a way?” 

Taehyung turns to look at you, the joy on his face slipping to be replaced with a soft sadness. He shakes his head again, picking at the splinters on the table. “I would be no good for him. We live in two different worlds… I come and go… He deserves a normal, human life. We could never be something.”

Jimin starts to head back toward the table. Taehyung shakes off the melancholy and smiles just as bright when Jimin returns, as though he wasn’t sad only a moment ago. You accept the refilled drink from Jimin with a weak smile.

Taehyung’s words cycle through your mind as the two men fall into giggling conversation, and all you can think about is a pair of dark cat eyes, a soft raspy voice, and a man who is made of dreams.

We could never be something. 

-

“I was starting to worry, you know?” 

Yoongi’s voice makes you blink. You realize you’re standing among the wisteria, the breeze carrying their sweet scent over your warm skin. You turn to look at him over your shoulder. He’s leaning against a tree, his long hair down and dancing in the breeze. The thin white shirt he wears does little to hide the lines of his stomach and chest today, making you avert your eyes. 

“Why?” you ask, voice steadier than you feel. 

You walk toward a low-hanging vine, bringing your hands up to brush along the purple petals. You feel the tree shiver under your touch. You sense it, like it purrs, a response that is hard to explain but you innately know. 

“It took you longer than usual to fall asleep.”

“Can you not see me when I’m not asleep?”

“I could, but prying is rude. I only see you when you come to me.”

You turn to look at him sharply. He seems a little smug at that, the corners of his full lips twitching like he’s fighting a smirk. Your heart skips a beat for a moment before Taehyung’s words from that night play in your mind. We could never be something. 

And yet Yoongi is implying it’s you who visits him. 

You scowl and turn away from him suddenly. Yoongi makes a sound like a sigh and pushes off of the tree, his footsteps quiet as a whisper. “Have I upset you?” 

“I want to go to sleep.”

He hesitates. You cannot see his expression, but you can picture it perfectly: brows drawn together, mouth pouted slightly, head cocked.  His confusion is evident when he says, “You are asleep.”

“You know what I mean.” 

Silence, for a moment. Then, in that soft, rasping voice that you know so well, he murmurs, “Goodnight, then.” 

-

Silence greets you when you wake up the next morning. Your home is still empty - you have not seen either of your parents since you arrived the night before. Either you’re coming and going at hours they’re not around or they’re avoiding you. The latter is most likely, and you certainly don’t mind. 

Your day goes similarly to the day before. This time, when you walk through the woods, you feel a little more of a spark. You’re sure it has to do with your conversation with Taehyung, his words about dreams and reality being different but equally powerful pouring a little bit of magic back into the woods you loved so dearly.

Still, you miss the other realm and the House of Dreams, even if you’re a little embarrassed by your dream last night, recalling the way you dismissed Yoongi. 

Sitting on the ground with your back pressed against a cypress tree, you let out a heavy sigh and close your eyes, your arms hugging around your middle. You try not to think too hard about the way Yoongi looked leaning against the tree, dark eyes drinking you in. 

Yoongi occupies more than his fair share of thoughts. You hate it, the way your mind strays to him, thinking this is something Yoongi would like or Yoongi would find this funny. Only two weeks and he and Taehyung are suddenly all you know, your experiences with them painting most of your thoughts. 

Thoughts of Taehyung don’t plague you, though. 

The fluttering feeling every time you think of Yoongi has not faded with time or distance. It might be easier if he didn’t visit your dreams every night - or if you didn’t visit him in your dreams, which you don’t know how to do. 

But Taehyung’s forlorn words come drifting back to you, reminding you that there is some distinction between humans and dreams. That even for Taehyung, it cannot work. 

When you return home, your parents still aren’t there. You busy yourself with lunch and then begin practicing your letters, tracing them until your hand is cramping and your head is starting to hurt. You manage to take up most of the afternoon that way, focused solely on your studies and trying to read through your work.

Just as evening falls, Taehyung appears in the yard, hands on his hips as he looks up at your window, whistling to catch your attention. You grin when you see him, happy to have a friend, even if it’s just Taehyung. You don’t ask why Yoongi doesn’t come with him - the Eternal is busy, you’re sure - but you’re pleased to just have Taehyung. 

It becomes a routine. It’s not as thrilling as your life in the House of Dreams, but it isn’t as terrible as you thought it would be. The few times that you do see your parents, they glare at you as though you have become something evil in their house, lurking and stealing their joy. 

You say nothing to them and they stay away from you. 

It’s the same in town. You only visit with Taehyung, otherwise you are too afraid to go on your own. The villagers say nothing when they see the two of you walking around and visiting the old church, but they glare and you catch them doing the signs to ward off evil as you pass by. 

Still, Taehyung makes it worth it. He visits you nightly, whisking you away to the Desert Rose, which has become a refuge for you. You’re no better at teleporting, but you manage not to vomit on his shoes each time you do it. 

Tonight, the energy is thrumming at the Desert Rose. Your gaze lingers longer on those around you and you even introduce yourself to the people that Taehyung is familiar with. Though Taehyung opts to play a game of dice, you do not. You’re content to watch, standing over his shoulder with your arms crossed over your chest.

You feel… alive. Just like Taehyung described when he started coming here. It’s so different from your life before, and after over a week of being around people who seem to spill over with joy without restraint, you feel yourself loosening up. Becoming something a little different. Someone who wants. Someone who wants openly. 

You think about Yoongi. Once he’d told you that he wasn’t just Eternal of dreams. He also has power over desire, and he believes in indulgence. He wants to teach you to indulge more. It suddenly makes all the more sense that Taehyung likes it here. He’s someone who dives in head first to things, taking any bet someone throws his way and snatching drinks off of passing trays. 

Even his desire for Jimin is open and obvious, though you’re sure Taehyung doesn’t know that. 

It’s a lovely night. You feel warm all over, the drink getting to you as you guzzle down the remainder of your cider, which you favor far more than the ale. Jimin clambors onto the table, a cup in hand as he starts yelling the words to the song the band is playing in the corner. 

Taehyung begins to slam his wooden cup on the table in time with the beat, yelling the words and standing up as the room joins in, stamping their feet and slamming on tables. You don’t know the words but you laugh loudly, slamming your palms against the top of the table. They sting with the force of your slap, but it feels good. 

You feel good. Happy. Drunk. A little dizzy as the table wobbles and you dive out of the way as Jimin comes tumbling down. It doesn’t stop you from taking a shower of beer from Jimin’s cup, dousing you in warm liquid as you shriek and laugh. 

Taehyung catches Jimin, of course. They’re a tangled mess of limbs and wet with beer all the same, pointing at you and laughing as you blink through the drink dripping down your face. You flick beer at them with the liquid on your hands, making them howl. 

“Gross! Jimin!”

“I’m so sorry,” he gasps through the laughter, his arms slung tight around Taehyung’s neck as Jimin leans into him. “I slipped!”

“You owe me a new shirt!” 

Jimin nods, grinning so broadly his eyes are crescents as he stands properly and beckons you. “Come on, both of you. I’ll get you new shirts that aren’t soaked. 

Upstairs is a series of private rooms. The hall is lit with flickering sconces and the plush carpet mutes your footsteps. Jimin leads you and Taehyung, giggling, to a door. He thrusts it open and the three of you tip inside, stopping short at the scene in front of you.

Your hands fly to your mouth to mute your gasp, but Taehyung and Jimin collapse into another fit of laughter. If the two people in the bed are bothered by the interruption, they don’t show it. They are a tableau of pleasure, a woman laying back on the bed, arching upward as she lets out a moan. Her skin is slick with sweat, nipples hard as she teases them with one hand, another hand slipping between her legs to cradle the head of someone there.

The shock roots you to the spot. You can’t look away, completely hypnotized by the way the person between the woman’s legs moans, pressing their mouth further into her, the wet smack of their mouth loud over the woman’s trembling moans. 

You’ve never seen such a raw, carnal exchange. As Taehyung apologizes and grabs you and Jimin, pulling you back out into the hallway, you know you’ll never forget that momentary vision. Even as Jimin directs you to the right room to change your shirt in, you replay the scene over and over in your head, thinking of a different detail every single time: the pleasure on the woman’s face, the delicate bow of her back, the soft swells of her breasts, the wet sounds of the mouth between her legs. 

It haunts you. You swallow thickly when you’re done changing, skin still smelling like beer. Your mind wanders to Yoongi, wondering if this is what he was talking about when he spoke of desire. If he also meant physical desire, the indulgence of the erotic variety. 

The thought shames you so thoroughly you’re silent the rest of the night. You’re embarrassed by your immediate curiosity - angry that you even entertained the thought of being in that position with Yoongi, no matter how fleeting the idea was. 

Yoongi certainly did not mean he was going to teach you that - did he?

You shake the thoughts from your head and focus on reality. Of course he didn’t mean that. Taehyung was right when he spoke about the relationships between humans and dreams - it could never be something. 

-

Sweat trickles down your neck slowly. You feel every inch of it, your skin sensitive and over-warm. Your stomach clenches and your hands twist in your sheets as a hot mouth presses against your throat, teeth scraping, tongue licking. 

An inferno grows inside of you as the mouth sinks lower. You hear your heaving breaths, loud and ragged. Your heart beats in your ears, the staccato almost louder than the whimper that leaves your mouth when a wet, messy kiss is placed on your collarbone. 

It’s madness. It’s tortuous. It’s glorious, this feeling thrumming through you, making you twist your head to the side, muscles clenching and letting loose over and over again, your body completely at war with itself.

But it feels so good. 

One of your hands shoots to the silky, dark hair of the person kissing your chest. You card your fingers through soft strands, tugging a little. A deep, throaty moan escapes the lips pressed to your skin, breath hot and warm. 

Dark eyes meet yours, lips parted and swollen, Yoongi’s pupils blown and -

Panic explodes. You realize it’s Yoongi kissing you this way. Yoongi’s hands skimming up your sides, Yoongi’s mouth pressing searing kisses to your flesh, Yoongi’s moan that is falling from his lips, honey sweet. 

“We can’t,” you whisper, though dream-Yoongi just stares at you, eyes fathomless. “We could never be something.”

“Of course we can,” he murmurs, tilting his head to the side. “You are everything I’ve ever dreamed of.” 

The weight of his gaze is blazing. You feel your skin burn under the heat of it, you feel like it’s harder to breathe, you feel the sweat run down your spine, your arms, you feel like you’re overheating, it’s hot it’s too-

-

You wake up to something screeching. For a moment, daylight blinds you. You hold your hands in front of your face, shielding your eyes from the light. But the light is an inferno of heat against your hand, making you gasp and choke on thick air as you blink sleep away, trying to make sense of where you are. 

Fire. It isn’t daylight you’ve woken up to, it’s fire. 

Leaping up from bed, you throw your sheets off, scrambling to push yourself against the wall. The flames are already high, licking toward the ceiling and filling your room with thick, grey smoke as the fire eats at the old wood of your house. 

The screech comes again, the shutters on your window rattling. Heart pounding, you slide your hand along the wall, fingers trembling as you press them into the wood, trying to find the metal latch to open them. You cover the lower half of your face with your opposite arm, coughing into it. 

Your fingers slip on the latch, sweaty and shaking. You inch closer to the window, getting a solid grip on the metal and flipping it upward. The latch clacks and the windows swing open, a gust of wind entering the room. It makes matters worse, the oxygen fueling the fire into a rage as it climbs higher and jumps towards your bed. 

You look frantically around your room, realizing you can’t take anything. The writing desk in the corner is aflame, all of the sheets of paper and your hard-earned practice curling into smoke as they’re consumed, your letters from Yoongi turning to ash. 

“No!” you sob, realizing those things are lost forever.

Again, there’s a wild screech. You turn to look out the window to see a large, brown owl - Guardian, you realize - screeching, flapping its great wings, gold eyes fixated on the fire. It yells at you again, as though imploring you to move. 

You take a breath and dive out the window. For a moment as you fall toward the ground, you’re reminded that this is the second time you’re having to use it to escape danger. That thought sinks like a stone in your stomach, going down, down, down until it rests weighty in your gut.

The smack of the ground rattles you. Every part of you hurts, bones jolting as you roll until you’re flat on your back, gasping as the air leaves your lungs momentarily, knocked out of you. Scrambling up despite your limbs protesting in pain, you look up at the fire crawling over your house. 

That’s when you notice it - the noise and the yelling of voices. Inside your home, with the roaring and crackling of the fire, you couldn’t hear the crowd outside. Now, you see them in full. They carry torches and farm tools, some of them with axes and hoes, others with scythes. 

They don’t see you yet, giving you a long moment to stare open-mouthed as the pieces of the puzzle slide together. They’ve set your home on fire because of you - they’ve tried to kill you. Because they think you’re a demon and because they think you’re an evil creature. 

Heart in your throat, you scan the lines of the faces. Toward the edge, you see your parents. A group of women consoles your mother, holding her by the shoulders gently as she stares into the orange flame. Your father stands a few feet away, almost by himself, watching and watching and watching. 

They knew you were asleep. And your window had not been closed before bed - you’d been leaving it open at night so Guardian could come and go as he pleased. 

You sit there on the ground, staring in shock, for too long. Someone notices you and points, screaming something that you cannot hear over the blood rushing in your ears. Panic seizes you and you scramble to your feet, sliding a few times as the crowd runs at you.

There’s no time to see what your parents do. The image of them watching their home burn with the thought of you inside is fresh in your memory, a razor-sharp cut that flays you open as you turn and run. Run toward the woods where Nathaniel chased you on that fateful night. 

Run to the woods you almost died in. Run to the woods where Yoongi swooped in and made a promise to protect you. 

Darkness descends. You think for a moment as you enter the woods that you won’t get lucky a second time, that your luck has run out. It’s the panic that scrambles your thoughts, and the memories of Nathaniel chasing you through these woods make you stumble and fall. 

You don’t make it far. You trip over a tree root and tumble into strong arms. The smell of clove and cinnamon is overpowering as you look up at Yoongi, who pulls you into his chest. You let him, sliding your arms around his middle and pressing your face into his neck as you squeeze your eyes shut.

“I’ve got you, little lamb.” His voice is dark as the shadows that wrap around you, cool and soothing to the touch. “They cannot hurt you.” 

As Yoongi whisks you away like that fateful night, you hear the echoing voice scream behind you. Devil! Demon King! The Dark God!

-

“It’s my fault,” Yoongi murmurs, cradling your face to inspect it for the tenth time. He’s crouching in front of you, dark eyes wild as he inspects your face for any damage. You pull your jaw from his grasp - even if his touch tingles pleasantly - and look in the other direction. “I should have known.”

“Yes,” Taehyung snaps behind Yoongi, arms crossed and presence thundering. “You should have.” 

There is no fire going in the library tonight. You have a feeling Yoongi has extinguished it for obvious reasons, but you say nothing. You look over Yoongi’s dark head to where Taehyung is raging, his face pinched with anger. You give him a look and he tosses his hands in the air. 

“What?” he demands. “It’s true.”

“Taehyung.”

“I’m not going to lie to him. He should have known sending you back was an idiotic idea. Thinking anyone would have accepted you was an oversight.”

Yoongi grits his teeth and stands. You watch as he visibly tries to control his frustration, taking a step back from you. Tonight, he’s dressed in all black. His cloak is still on and his necklaces pool at his throat, the silver cold in the dark of the library. His hair is pulled back out of his face and you think he looks like the real Eternal, tonight. 

He turns to Taehyung. “You know why I sent her back.”

“Yes, your fucked up sense of morality and-”

“Don’t talk about me like I’m not sitting right here,” you snap. You ball your fists in your lap. You’re still dressed in night clothes and the scent of ash and sweat is heavy on your skin. You stare at your hands. “I want to go to bed.” 

“Alright.” Yoongi’s extended hand appears in front of you. You drag your eyes up to meet his. Gone is the anger and severity, replaced only with a soft, almost fond expression. “I’ll walk you.”

Putting your hand in Yoongi's, you let him pull you out of the chair. 

You could be mad at him if you tried. Perhaps it would be easy to blame Yoongi for sending you back to keep some semblance of normalcy in your life. Maybe you would feel lighter if you got angry with him for promising to protect you, but only being able to physically do so, unable to shield you from the hatred of your community. 

If you tried, perhaps you could blame him for not letting you drown in the first place. For bringing you here with the fantasy that you could exist with one foot in each world. 

You’re not mad at him, though. Unlike Taehyung, you don’t need to wonder why Yoongi wanted you to spend two weeks in the real world. The real world is yours. It’s where you belong. To want some sort of normalcy for you or hope that you’d be able to pick up your life there anew was perhaps shortsighted, but rooted in the desire to do good for you.

So you’re not angry with Yoongi, though you’re not sure you’re pleased either. 

The walk to your room is silent. Yoongi has let go of your hand but he walks close enough that your arms brush, sending shivers down your spine. You don’t know what to say, so you say nothing, and he seems content to let you keep your thoughts to yourself. 

This isn’t how you wanted to see him for the first time since your two weeks spent in your realm.

The inside of your room is warm, but there’s no fire. You almost ask if he’s doused every flame in the house, and protest that you’re not afraid, but you don’t. He follows you into your room and shuts the door behind him. You walk toward the chaise and sit on it, looking up at where he hovers by the door. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, eyes finding yours. The emotions there are deep, but unreadable. “It was foolish of me to think they’d accept you as you were. Foolish to think that maybe the relationship with your parents might mend.” 

“You couldn’t have known.”

“I am thousands of years old. Humankind has not changed so much in their ability to fear the unknown and react violently. I do know better, but I…”  You wait for him to explain further, but he doesn’t. Yoongi lets the sentence drift off into the night. Instead of finishing it, he ventures, “Are you sure you’re unharmed?” 

“Yeah, Guardian was screeching at the window.” 

“Guardian?”

“Yeah, the owl. I assumed you sent it to watch over me.” 

Yoongi frowns. “No, that’s what Taehyung was for. I did not…”

“What?” You see the look on his face change, shifting from confused to steel calm. “What is it?” 

“Hoseok,” Yoongi mutters, turning to exit your room. “Try to get some sleep. I have a meddling owl to deal with.” 

As he moves to close the door, you lean forward. “Yoongi?” He looks up, eyes wide, expression soft. He looks like a dark star, just then. The light from the window makes him glow from within, his eyes endless pools, his power ebbing in the room, a constant energy. “Thank you.”

His mouth turns downward. “For what?”

“Saving me. Again.”

His eyes darken. “Your safety will always be paramount to me. I’ll do better.” 

“I think you’re doing the best you are able.” 

“Thank you for saying so.”

Silence hangs between the two of you. It’s heavy, filled with friction that wasn’t there before. You squirm where you sit, suddenly unable to meet the set of eyes pinned to you. You’d  forgotten what his gaze could do to you in person, and now the full force of it is dizzying. 

“Goodnight, little lamb.”

-

A gentle scratch sounds on the other side of the window. You look up from your writing desk to the windows facing the mountains. Beyond the first sprawling peaks, you see the tallest of them all, the dark mountain wreathed in shadow and lightning. 

The thunder rolls, vibrating your bones. You stare at the mountain, feeling the hair at the back of your neck stand on end. You grip the quill tight. 

Beneath the hum of thunder, you hear a scratching on the glass again. You squint, but you see nothing there. Just open air and those ominous mountains in the back, watching you as you scrawl your letters. 

Carefully, you set the quill down and get up. The floor is cold as you walk toward the window, which is strange. The floor is always warm in your room, as are the walls and most of the House of Dreams, fueled by whatever magic lives through Yoongi. 

Near the glass, you almost feel how cold the window is. You frown and lift a hand, pressing a single finger against a pane. It’s freezing to the touch and you yank your hand back, perplexed as you stare at the single fingerprint left by your warm skin. 

The fingerprint fades but the scratching sound does not. A gentle scritch scritch scritch, like a nail on the window. 

“My betrothed,” someone whispers. Your blood runs cold and you whirl around, expecting to find someone standing in your bathroom. “Won’t you open the window for me? It’s so cold outside.” 

Fear turns your stomach into acid. Your hands begin to shake as you stare into the emptiness of your room, suddenly feeling like it’s darker. Did the ceilings get taller? Is your room blurry at the edges? The scratching on the window intensifies, and with trembling lips, you turn to look over your shoulder.

There’s nothing outside, but there’s a shadowy reflection on the glass. A little taller than you. A little wider. 

“Betrothed,” Nathaniel whispers again. “Won’t you let me in to reunite?” 

For a moment, there is silence. The shadow doesn’t move. You don’t dare breathe. The shadow leaps at you and a scream tears through you -

Hands press you into something soft. You kick and scream, lashing out. Sheets tangle your legs and stick to your sweaty skin. Suddenly it feels like you can’t breathe and you thrash wildly, screaming at the top of your lungs as you claw at whatever’s holding you down.

Panic like never before seizes you. Your head smacks into something hard and it knocks you backward, suddenly dizzy as a hand comes up to your head automatically. It hurts where your fingers press into the skin, and you’re momentarily subdued by the way the room spins; the pain morphs your panic into confusion.

Breathing heavily, you blink your eyes rapidly, tears streaming down your face and vision a little blurry as you try and put the pieces together. Finally, you realize Taehyung is sitting on the floor next to your bed with his hand pressed against his forehead, in a similar fashion to your current state. Yoongi stands next to him, hands held up tentatively, as though he is about to grab you or has just let you go. 

Silence hangs in the air, your breathing ragged. Your head - which you can surmise you’ve smacked against Taehyung’s - throbs wildly. As though sensing your discomfort and sticky thoughts, Yoongi’s eyes flicker away from your gaze to your head.

“May I fix that?” he asks slowly, voice gentle. “You smacked heads quite hard. I’m concerned you may be concussed.” 

“Concussed,” you repeat back slowly. The word feels heavy on your tongue. “Right.”

Yoongi’s face colors with concern and he gestures toward you, asking permission again. It takes you another minute to put it together, but you nod dumbly, watching as he steps forward very slowly, dark eyes looking for any sign of protest or panic from you.

When you don’t bolt or swing at him, he takes another step toward you, hands reaching up toward your skull. You flinch when he reaches near and he stops, hands hovering. You can feel the heat of his skin a hair's breadth away, feel the magic skimming along him where he hesitates. 

You look up at Yoongi. His eyes are wide and full of concern, his brows pulled up. His tongue darts out to lick his lips nervously as his eyes shift from your head to your eyes, trying to assess what to do. You smell cinnamon and clove and it calms you a little. 

This is Yoongi. Not Nathaniel. Yoongi, who saved you from the grips of that hateful man and who brought you here. Somewhere that made you happy.

“It’s okay,” you whisper. You feel tired suddenly, like your adrenaline is waning and the aftereffects are bleeding you out. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” he whispers, pressing his hands gently to your head. You wince, the lump there giving a painful throb as he does. 

“Maybe apologize,” Taehyung mutters from his spot on the floor. “Are you going to give me magic hand, too?”

“Silence, Taehyung.” Yoongi’s voice is cutting. It’s a voice you’ve never heard him use with Taehyung, your eyes shooting up to his in shock. He pays you no mind, focused on his hands. 

Warmth emanates from his palms. Immediately you feel the tingle of magic. It’s soothing, making your eyes flutter as you become dizzy again. You let the warmth wash over you, accompanied by a peculiar array of senses: dark spicy smells; the feeling of velvet against your skin; the taste of cherry wine; a warm breath against your lips.

You shiver, head rolling back a little as it grows heavy and you grow drowsy suddenly, limbs weighted, mind fading. 

“I didn’t… I didn’t know that was a dream.” Yoongi grimaces and says nothing. “Why didn’t that feel like a dream, Yoongi?”

“Sleep,” Yoongi murmurs, and his voice feels very far away. “You’ll be fine, now. You don’t have to worry about anything.”

“Thank you.”

“An easy fix.” 

Yoongi removes his hand and you catch his wrist gently, eyes opening for a moment. “No,” you slur, speech heavy as the exhaustion pulls at you. “Thank you for saving me.”

You don’t know if you mean before, or when your neighbors came for you, or now. Maybe you mean all of it. Maybe you mean saving you from a life that you hated and bringing you here. You mean it nonetheless, though you’re unsure from where the bravery came to say it.

Dropping Yoongi’s wrist, you fall backward unceremoniously onto your bed. There is no fear of Nathaniel scratching at the glass anymore, your mind mostly empty, save for the smell of cinnamon and clove. 

Yoongi and Taehyung gather to leave your room, and as you fade, you catch the tiniest bit of conversation from Taehyung. “... need to teach her. It’s only going to get worse… spinner.” 

Sleep takes you. 

-

Being back in the House of Dreams feels like home. Though the lingering feeling of hot flame and the look on your parents’ faces as they watch their home burn still haunts you, you feel safer than you have in the last week. 

In the House of Dreams, there's no one to mutter prayers and sign wards against evil as you pass by. There’s no one glaring at you - except Taehyung, who pouts when you steal the last of the honey for your toast at breakfast. It’s just Yoongi and Taehyung, who talk more chipper than usual at breakfast. 

You eye Yoongi carefully. He sits at the head of the table, dressed in a beautiful, jade-colored silk shirt. His hair is pulled back in a bun, earrings dangling as he leads forward and plucks melon from the bowl in front of him. 

Yoongi lifts the fruit to his mouth. You pause chewing your toast, eyes focused on the way he bites into the fruit, lips plush around it, a bead of juice running down his chin. Suddenly you’re thinking about the night at The Desert Rose, a head between legs, a back that’s arched, skin sweaty-

Taehyung clears his throat from across the table and draws your attention. He’s staring at you with thinly veiled amusement, wiggling his eyebrows up and down. You scowl and take a large bite of your toast before swallowing what's in your mouth, feeling heat bloom in your cheeks and neck. 

Yoongi is none the wiser, chewing happily on his fruit as he scratches Tiara under her chin. She chirps like a bird and purrs like a cat, letting out small curls of smoke everytime she puffs happily. 

Your mouth twitches in a smile as you look at your plate, happy to be back with them. 

“I want you to come to the Dream Tower with me today,” Yoongi ventures lightly. You snap your gaze up in surprise. He looks casual, as though he’s not offering you to come to the place he works, filled with magic and dreams. “I think you could help me.”

“Me?”

His mouth quirks. “Is there another human prone to trouble around here that I’m not aware of?” 

“I thought you blamed yourself?”

“So I do. But yes - you.” 

“How do you want me to help?”

Yoongi grins as he pops another piece of fruit into his sinful mouth. “You’ll see.” 

Despite your excitement and the promise of a look inside  Yoongi’s lair, even him asking for your help doesn’t earn you a break from daily reading and writing lessons. When Yoongi gestures to the assigned work on your desk, you throw him a severe look followed by a pout. As endeared as he seems, he is unwavering, patting your desk chair as he walks by. 

You’re not really mad. You fall into an easy calm as you sit down and scoot up toward the desk. The fire is low and crackling in the fireplace today and the library smells faintly of cardamom as you work. Tiara flights around the second story of the room, chittering and following Yoongi - who seems to be organizing the shelves. 

Taehyung vanishes to do whatever it is he does during the day. You’re not even sure if it’s day in your world. You hope he will take you to The Desert Rose again to see Jimin and to drink cider. You love the warmth of the crowd and the loud bustle. 

The House of Dreams is quiet. 

Time slips as you work. You lose yourself in swirling letters and short reading passages, so much so that when there is a tingling presence near your shoulder, you flinch, ripping your quill across the page and splattering ink. 

Yoongi tsks and apologizes, grabbing an ink stained cloth to wipe the spilled liquid from the desk. His proximity makes your head spin, the edge of his hips grazing your shoulder as he leans over you to clean the mess you’ve made. 

Mouth drying, you drop the quill and flex your hand, coughing out an apology as you try to organize your thoughts that spill like the ink on the desk at his nearness. 

Being away from him almost made you forget how dizzying his presence could be. Yoongi regards your work in silence, but all you can focus on is the measured sound of his breathing, the warmth radiating from him, the curve of his mouth, the juice running down his-

“Ready?”

“What?” you ask, blinking and looking up at him owlishly. He gazes down at you, cocking a brow. It’s obvious he had asked you a question. “Sorry, I wasn’t listening?” 

“What were you doing?”

“... Staring.”

“At?”

“The wall?”

“Are you asking me or telling me?” he questions, his voice laced with teasing. 

You scowl and shove your chair backward into his stomach, knocking him back. He lets out a loud oof and a bit of laughter as you stand and stretch, hyperaware that he’s been in a rather cheeky mood since breakfast. 

Together, you begin your walk to the tower. Tiara comes along, jumping up on Yoongi’s shoulder and curling herself around him like a scarf, her tail wrapped gently around his neck. She regards you with distaste and her tongue flickers out to taste the air, a curl of smoke escaping her nose as she huffs.

Fighting the urge to stick your tongue out at a dragon, you opt to walk in comfortable silence. 

As you do, your thoughts inevitably drift to the night before and the dream that didn’t feel like a dream. For the most part, you feel like you can tell when you’re dreaming. There’s always an opaque feeling to your dreams, something a little off. 

Now, you’re worried that perhaps you can’t tell the difference. You think that maybe you should ask Yoongi if he can help you tell the difference between being awake and dreaming, but your desire to ask is stopped as you reach the foot of stairs you’ve never climbed before. 

Yoongi looks down at you as he begins ascending, giving you a gummy smile that sends your pulse galloping after him. You curse your traitor heart, trying to remember what Taehyung said to you about the relationship between dreams and humans. It could never work. But… you’re here. In Yoongi’s home, and you don’t know how long you’re allowed to stay - if you’re ever supposed to go back again.

Both of you seem to completely ignore that you were brought back to the dream realm ahead of schedule, that maybe going back is no longer an option. 

There are doors leading to rooms as you ascend the stairs. Yoongi ignores all of them in favor of climbing up, up, and up. Your calves burn by the time you make it to the top, pausing to catch your breath and sweep your eyes across the large, circular room. 

It’s stunning. Glancing up, your mouth falls open in surprise when you see that there is no ceiling, but a mass of writhing cosmos and something like a night sky. The nebulous display casts a lavender and blue glow on the room below, the two-tone light shifting and moving. 

There are all manner of things in the room. Tables covered in papers, rich rugs with different designs, chairs and bookshelves and curiosity cabinets and glass cases full of glowing things that you cannot identify. Tiara hops off of Yoongi’s shoulder and floats on small wings toward a pile of blankets, twigs, and leaves that looks like a nest.

What demands your attention most, though, is the massive stone dais in the room, with a stone column about waist high with something that looks like a bowl carved into the top. From where you stand, you can see there’s liquid in the bowl that moves and shimmers with its own glow. Occasionally, a sparkle or wisp of color drifts from the cool surface.

Energy vibrates in the air. You can feel it like a static on your skin and taste it like a buzz on your tongue. You’re drawn to the dais, taking a step forward and halting. It feels like a hum shivers through you. You look at Yoongi, questioning. 

“The dream pool,” he answers, as though you have any idea what that is. 

He walks toward it and looks back at you, hesitating before he offers a hand. Excitement shoots through you as you take his hand and he pulls you toward it. Your hand tingles where you hold his. Even when you reach the dais and he lets go, there’s pins and needles left behind. 

“This is where I help create dreams for those who can’t do it on their own.” 

The liquid in the basin brightens as Yoongi steps up close. You watch as a watercolor of lights splashes across his face. He looks down into the bowl lovingly, a soft smile on his face, and so much adoration in his eyes that you find yourself watching him instead of the magical water in the bowl. 

“This room is full of things that help inspire dreams. I make everything myself but Taehyung likes to help - he likes to decorate and fill the room with items that inspire creativity.”

“Somehow I think dream personified doesn’t need it.”

He shoots you a grin. “You’d be surprised. Come look.”

Tentatively, you step up next to him. You’re aware of how close you stand, his sleeves brushing yours as he places a hand on the basin. It comes up to your stomach and is two feet in diameter. The water looks so much deeper than you thought. You’re unable to see the bottom, an illusion that makes you dizzy.

Like the sky above, the water shimmers and moves with its own set of stars and colors. It feels alive, like whatever power is in the dream pool recognizes you and wakes up, spinning as you look into the glittering surface. 

“I can feel and hear people dream,” Yoongi explains. “It’s like a frequency that I can tap into. I can turn it on and off at a whim. Those who don’t struggle to dream are so much quieter than those who cannot dream. I listen for those who cannot, and I come here and focus on them in my mind’s eye before creating them a dream. I pour in thoughts, feelings, scents, sounds, memories and the like into this bowl. I think it, and so it appears.” 

“How?”

“What you’d call magic. Really it’s just divine power. This is a part of me,” he says, tapping the rim of the basin. “Just like dreams are.”

“How can I help you do… this?” you ask, gesturing wildly to the water.

Yoongi’s smile is angelic. “You have the raw capability of a dreamer. Someone who dreams so powerfully and loudly that it can’t help but catch my attention.”

“What does that mean?”

“Your imagination and your ability to come up with things is more innate than most people. You’re an innovator, a great conjurer of stories and fantasies. It’s a rare gift in humans. Some call you Spinners - you can spin dreams up just as easily as I can, with practice, but you cannot do so without a tool like this basin.” 

“A spinner.” You remember the night before, hearing the word on Taehyung’s lips. “Are there others?” 

He nods. “Under fifty in the entire world. I believe you’ve met another one. He’s the one Taehyung visits.”

“Jimin?” 

“Mhmm. He’s like you. You have no power though, not in your world. Just raw ability.”

“So if I were to use this… pool of dreams, I could give people dreams.”

He nods, smiling. You smile back at him, his happiness infectious. You like the way his eyes crinkle when he grins broadly at you, the way his cheeks tint pink. It is strange to think that this soft man in front of you is also the same dark, powerful god who has swept in to save you, whose voice haunts your dreams and whose phantom touch lingers in all of the places that it shouldn’t. 

Licking his lips and rolling his shoulders, Yoongi takes his stance at the basin. You watch, fascinated as he sweeps a hand over the surface, not touching the water. It ripples an entire rainbow of colors, casting shadows on his face when he peers down into the water as the surface smoothes out like a mirror. 

An opaque image materializes on the surface. You watch as Yoongi concentrates. Slowly, things begin appearing. A cerulean ocean, waves rolling gently against a sandy beach. Foam clings to the sand. Starfish of every color - blue, green, red - begin to dot the beach. A gull cries above, so clear it feels like you’re there. Then you smell it - the salt, the brine. The subtle scent of driftwood. A breeze blows against your face, carrying the cool ocean mist. 

You let out a laugh as Yoongi smiles, his eyes never leaving the images unfolding in the basin. You watch as a dolphin crests a wave, earning a gasp from you. You’ve never seen a dolphin, only heard about them in passing from fishermen from the coast. They spray water high into the air as they break the waves, moving smoothly through glittering waters. 

It feels so real and warm, the dream bright and full of hope. Happiness. Excitement. You feel what Yoongi pours into the basin, your toes curling as though you can feel hot sand beneath your feet. 

“The trick,” Yoongi explains carefully, “Is imagining everything that would make it feel real. It can’t be just what you see. It has to be what you hear, what you feel, what you smell, what emotions you evoke. You have to do all of these things at once - you have to believe in them all at once. Dreams about real things are the easiest. More complex dreams can include anything you can imagine that humans believe to be fake: dragons, brownies, griffons.” 

“How do you know what to give?” 

“You feel it. Place your hand on the side.” 

Carefully, you lift your hand to the side of the dream pool. You hesitate and look up at Yoongi, eyes wide. He gives you an encouraging nod. You place your hand on the bowl, feeling the warm stone. 

A pulse of energy flows through you. You gasp, flinching a little as you feel the basin come alive under your touch. You close your eyes as sensations flood you: hopelessness, stress, exhaustion. Suddenly, Yoongi’s dream makes sense. He instills a sense of peace and serenity at the beach, of hope and wonder with the dolphins, of rest with the cool wind and warm sand. 

“Amazing,” you breathe, eyes still closed. “This is wonderful.” 

“I’ll do some more. Keep your hand where it is. You’ll feel what it is they feel. Try not to think too hard about anything while you’re connected - let me do the work.” 

Watching Yoongi work can happen with your eyes closed, you realize. You lose yourself in time and space. No longer are you in the Dream Tower. Now, Yoongi walks you through the world.

You enter through dreams, feeling sudden sadness or loss, even heartache. Every dream you encounter, there is profound suffering at the beginning. Yoongi gently sends the pain on its way, observes what each dreamer needs, and begins spinning up images. Sounds. Feelings. 

Rain falls on your face as you stand over the tops of a misty forest. It’s gentle and cool to the touch, soothing. You smell pine and damp earth, giving you energy. Your toes feel the wet grass beneath you, grounding you and making you feel more centered than you ever have.

Wheat brushes the tips of your fingers. You look out into a sea of gold, healthy crops bending with the wind. An azure sky stretches mile after mile, not a cloud in sight as the sun heats your skin. You smell fresh air and hear the grasshoppers buzz among the fresh stalks of wheat, feeling the reward of growing healthy grain. 

A dog runs after a ball. The hills are the brightest shade of green you’ve ever seen, the dog dashing up the hill and barking loudly. You feel laughter bubble up your throat and unfettered joy as thick clouds float by. The dog grabs the ball and runs back, its tail wagging and coat shiny. You feel nostalgic and happy to be reunited with a friend. 

Fireflies flicker to life in a forest at night. They alight on the tree branches and your arms, casting gold luminescence on your skin. You marvel at them, spinning in a circle as you look at the dark trees. You smell the maple sap and the bark, you hear the crickets.

It’s just like the woods near your house -

Your house. 

A slice of fear goes through you. You remember the darkness of the woods as Nathaniel tried to drown you, the press of his fingers into your skull. The roaring of the flooding water and the burning of your lungs. The fireflies flicker out one by one and the darkness begins to grow. You’re suddenly terrified. Curiosity vanishes and is replaced with deep fear. 

You taste stale water in your mouth. You smell the smoke of your burning house. You feel water rushing up to your ankles and inching higher, you hear the screams of Nathaniel’s vitriol, you feel your lungs start to fill, the air stars to leave, the roots of the trees grab at your feet-

A sharp yank pulls you out of the forest. You gasp for air, falling backward off of the dais and onto the floor. Gentle hands cradle your face and you hear a deep voice calling out to you, speaking your name through the dull roar in your ears. 

Blinking, you look upward to see Yoongi inches away from your face. His eyes are round and gentle, his hands steady. Warm. He’s so close you can feel his breath on your lips as he leans over you. A strand of dark hair escapes his bun, falling across his forehead and eye. You don’t know why, but you think it looks dashing. 

“Hey,” he murmurs, searching your face. “Are you with me?” 

“Yeah,” you rasp, lungs heaving. “What happened?” 

His thumb brushes back and forth across your cheek as he sighs, but he doesn’t let go of your face. “You thought of the night that I saved you. Your fear was powerful. Raw. As you started to remember things you grew more afraid and you took over the dream.”

You blink once. Twice. Remember the way that the fireflies suddenly flickered out and how the water started to rush in from nowhere. “I did that?” 

“I didn’t expect you to be such a natural. I had a feeling but… you caught me by surprise and shoved me out.”

“I can do that?”

“When I’m caught off guard, yes. You took control of creating the dream and turned it into…”

“A nightmare.”

He nods. “It’s my fault. I didn’t think you would think that forest looked the same, but I was wrong. I keep… having oversights. I’m sorry. I’m not good at this.”

“Good at what?”

“Being human.” 

Silence suspends between you. You’re sprawled on the floor of the Dream Tower with Yoongi hovering over you. His knees are pressed against your hips and his shirt collar is hanging low as he leans, revealing more skin than you’ve ever seen from him. You don’t dare drop your eyes from his, staring at their dark depths.

The space between you is minimal and neither of you move. You hope he cannot hear the way your heart hammers in your chest or sense the way your body crackles like lightning, sparking at his proximity. The nightmare you made is long forgotten, replaced with his touch, his smell, his closeness. 

Yoongi holds your face delicately, like a treasured item. You cannot imagine that he means to hold you so, but the sudden want that licks through you is powerful, your desire for him to hold you like you’re something precious surprising you in its strength. 

“You make me want to get better at it.” His voice is soft, barely even a whisper. 

“At what?”

A gentle laugh. “Being human. It is unfamiliar, but I wish to know more of what it's like. To have more of the instinct.”

“Why?”

He pauses. “Because I’ve lived for thousands of years, and never really had the chance to try.” 

It is a similar sentiment that Taehyung had shared. The thought of Taehyung makes you smile, sitting up suddenly. Yoongi leans back on his haunches quickly, careful not to knock heads. “What?” he asks, noting your sudden excitement. 

“Has Taehyung ever taken you to the Desert Rose?”

“No, I can’t say I’ve been interested. Why?”

You grab his hand. You notice the way he seems surprised, but he doesn’t pull away as you scramble to your feet. “You want to see what it’s like to be human. I know a place.” 

-

Yoongi makes a face as he sips the beer Taehyung has thrust into his hands. You and Taehyung laugh, tossing your heads back with it. Yoongi looks unimpressed but continues to drink nonetheless, his dark eyes scanning the crowded bar. 

He sticks out like a sore thumb. Eyes are immediately drawn to Yoongi wherever he goes. You think everyone must feel the divinity as he walks by them, his power a magnet for attention. Even sitting at the table with you and Taehyung, tucked near the door, people turn in their seats to get a good look at him or pause when they enter the Desert Rose. 

It doesn’t help that he looks beautiful. Air had gotten stuck in your throat when he arrived at the library at the appointed time to meet you and Taehyung to come here. His hair hangs in soft waves around his face, earrings peaking between inky strands when he moves his head. His dark shirt is long-sleeved but unbuttoned at the throat, revealing a strip of pale, smooth skin and his layered necklaces. His eyes are glittering tonight, almost like constellations are held within. 

Yoongi is the night. The black pants and black boots paired with the shirt make him look like a dark prince. Perhaps the son of the moon, even. You notice the way the stares turn from curious to hungry, Yoongi lighting a fire among those around him. 

Jealousy sours your stomach. You hate that it does, but it’s like a second instinct, some sort of possessive monster rearing its head as you avert your gaze when a beautiful man asks Yoongi if he wants to dance. Yoongi shakes his head, giving a polite smile in return before turning away and chugging more of his drink.

If you didn’t know better, you’d think he was nervous. 

“Thousands of years old and a room full of people scares you,” Taehyung teases, confirming your suspicions. Yoongi’s gaze is thin as a razor. “You should get out more. I’ve been telling you that.”

“Eternals don’t make a habit of walking around the human realm. Our presence disturbs the natural chemistry of the world.”

“Then why did you spend so many days in the wood-”

Yoongi kicks Taehyung under the table. He hollers in pain as Yoongi glowers, making you giggle. Though he’s no natural among the crowd, you can see that he’s trying to fit in. He watches the way people slouch in their chair and he imitates it. Drinks more of his beer, not because of the taste but because it's what people do here. 

Music thrums in the room. There is a crowd of people clapping their hands and dancing, stomping their feet along to the music. You nervously look at Yoongi throughout the night, trying to see if he’s enjoying himself, wondering what he thinks of the place. 

A couple near your table knocks over a pitcher of mead as the man presses the woman into the table in an arduous kiss. You can’t help but watch for a moment, entranced by the way he kisses her as though he’ll die if he doesn’t, as if her lips are the last thing he wants to remember. 

Sensing Yoongi’s gaze on you, you glance at him. He stares at you, drinking you in before his eyes drift to the couple you’d been studying. Embarrassment heats your face as you bring your cup to your lips, hiding behind the tankard as you take large gulps of cider. 

The cider takes the edge off. It makes you feel warm and loose, though you’re still a little nervous with Yoongi’s quiet countenance sitting beside you. 

“Jimin’s here!” you announce excitedly, clapping your hands together when he appears downstairs. Taehyung’s knee bumps into the bottom of the table as he jerks to turn around. “Jimin should meet Yoongi!”

“I would love to.” 

Taehyung groans. “No, please.”

“Why not?” Yoongi demands. “Should I not meet the human that brings my friend here most evenings? Should I not meet the friend of my -” Yoongi looks at you and stumbles over his words. “- my friend?” 

Friend. You’re not sure if the word fits, exactly. But you don’t know what else it is that Yoongi would call you. Friend implies something beyond acquaintances, which you are sure you are. But it fits like an ill-sized dress, hanging crooked on your frame.

“I don’t want you to scare him off!” Taehyung protests. 

Yoongi looks dubious. “Why would I do that?”

“Shut up,” you hiss as Jimin notices you. You lift your hand in an eager wave, beckoning him over. “Yoongi, be nice.”

“I am nice. Do you think I’m not nice?” 

Instead of answering him, you get up to greet Jimin warmly with a chaste kiss on the cheek and a brief hug. When you step back, you see Yoongi’s burning gaze, a tick in his jaw as he stares Jimin down, tonguing his cheek. You hiss at Yoongi and snap your finger to signal for him to drop the severe expression. 

He looks at you and his features smooth out as he rises to his feet lithely, reaching an arm around you. Yoongi startles you when he places his hand on your mid-back as he leans forward to shake Jimin’s, introducing himself. 

The contact is so brief that you wonder if he had done it at all as he sits down. For a moment, you’re the only one standing, staring at Yoongi in confusion as the three men sit. They all look at you expectantly and you plop down suddenly. 

“Are you alright?” Jimin asks, mirth evident in his voice.

“Yes,” you answer quickly, still recovering. It felt like a deliberate touch. Firm, but gentle. Polite, but… something. “How are you?” 

To your pleasure - and Taehyung’s evident relief - Yoongi and Jimin get along fine. If Jimin is put off by Yoongi’s peculiarity, he doesn’t show it. You wonder if he’s used to being around Taehyung, who has his own strange charm and inhuman energy vibrating around him. 

Yoongi says little, but seems comfortable. You watch him as he watches Taehyung, who has stars in his eyes every time he looks at Jimin. He leans closer to Jimin as they mutter about something conspiratorially, giggling behind their hands. Jimin brushes a strand of hair out of Taehyung’s face and the love that blooms in Taehyung’s expression is so evident that you wonder if Jimin knows. He has to know. And he looks like he feels the same. 

When Jimin drags Taehyung up to dance, you encourage them, shooing them off toward the growing crowd of people spinning around the room. Tables are shoved out of the way, chairs scraping to make room for the revelers. You move your chair some as your table is pushed, making the beers tilt dangerously. 

Yoongi grabs the leg of your chair and pulls it roughly toward him. Before you can say something, someone stumbles where your chair just was, toppling into the table next to you. You look at Yoongi with shock and he winks before returning to lounging in his seat, watching the crowd. 

Now that you’re sitting much closer to him, you can smell him. Still, you try to relax, watching as Jimin teaches Taehyung the steps to the dance the crowd is doing. 

“Thank you for bringing me here,” Yoongi says over the loud voices. “This is nice. I see why Taehyung likes it.”

“You don’t hate it?” He makes a face and you laugh. “Yoongi, you hate it.”

“It’s a bit loud, but I don’t hate it. I like the quiet. I like… solitude. But not always. This is a good break.” 

“So you never just… stroll among the people sometimes?”

“Never had a reason to.”

“But how can you make dreams if you don’t know people?”

“Dreams are inherent to me. They are an instinct. They aren’t born from people. They’re born from something rawer than that. People just happen to dream.” 

You hum, not sure that you follow. Silence lulls between you as the song changes. “This place is so different from anywhere I’ve been,” you tell him. “My mother and father would have hated a place like this where people want so freely and people are so… provocative.”

“Life is provocative. So is nature, and magic. And dreams.” 

“Is that why you’re a god of desire, too?” He nods once, his eyes on you. “Can you… sense what people innately desire? All the time?” 

You don’t ask the real question, which is: Can you tell what I desire when I’m with you? Still, Yoongi shrugs a shoulder. “Snippets. LIke I said, I try not to pry. I don’t think that anyone here needs to be inspired by me to delve into what they want here, that’s for sure.” His eyes darken. “Though perhaps there is one.”

It is not your imagination when he says it. You know that he means you. This you are sure of. You stare at Yoongi, the rest of the room fading away. He stares right back at you, as though willing you to agree, or to deny his claim. Your heart speeds up and you feel the sweat on your neck, the slick on your palms. 

“You said you’d help me indulge.” Your voice shakes when you say it. “How… do I do that?”

Yoongi’s mouth kicks up at the side. He leans forward and offers you a hand. When you just stare at it, he laughs. “Dance with me.”

“Dancing? That is indulging?” 

“You might be surprised.” 

Tension goes taught between you. You feel it sizzling in the air as you stare one another down. Yoongi’s hand remains outstretched, beckoning. Slowly, you put the cup of cider down and slide your hand into his. You’ve done this so many times, letting him lead you somewhere or help you up. 

When Yoongi grips your hand and pulls you to your feet, it feels different than all the times before. The soft, gentle Eternal of dreams has melted away and left something sharper. Darker. Edgier. Your heart flutters butterfly-fast as he leads you to where there are people spinning in tight circles on the floor. 

Yoongi yanks you toward him, pulling you into his chest. One hand loops over his shoulder, your palm cradling the back of his neck, while the other grips his. His hand goes snuggling around your waist, pulling you firmly to him as he ducks his head toward your ear, voice deep and soft as he whispers, “Follow me.” 

You would follow him anywhere, you think. Anywhere at all. 

Dancing is not something you ever recall doing. It wasn’t necessary where you grew up. Most of your festivals in town were a reserved affair and you’d never been to any parties or celebrations. Most weddings were stiff and formal, and not for merriment as much as respect. 

Now, your world turns into a kaleidoscope of color and laughter. Yoongi spins you around the room, his feet smooth and fast. You stumble to keep up at first, but Yoongi is a confident lead, his steps instructing yours, his hands pulling and guiding you as you go. 

Laughter rushes out of you. You cannot help the glee that glitters in your veins. Yoongi’s laughter is like spilled moonlight. You look up at him with a grin, seeing his gummy smile as he dips you suddenly, making you squeal. Your fingers tangle in his shirt. You know he won’t drop you but the exhilaration is in your veins as he lifts you back up, crushing you to him. 

Your arms and legs burn with effort as you continue. The song changes and Yoongi lets go and spins you. You go crashing into Taehyung’s arms. He’s a far worse dancer than Yoongi, and the two of you are a mess of tripped feet, trilling laughter and elbows into ribs. He pushes you back to Yoongi’s waiting arms. 

It terrifies you how much it feels like home, like a key sliding into a lock. Your arms go around him as his hands squeeze your waist. You come alive where you touch, looking up at him. He watches you, the shadow of his lashes framing delicate eyes. His mouth is red and soft. 

Yoongi’s eyes dart down to your mouth. Your breath catches and he moves a little closer, pressing his head to yours, noses brushing. The entire world vanishes and it’s just Yoongi, his lips so close you can almost taste them, his fingers digging into your hips. 

Your eyes flutter shut just as someone crashes into you. You scream as you’re knocked hard into Yoongi, the two of you stumbling as he catches you from falling over completely. The crowd goes wild with laughter as a man is sprawled on the ground, laughing and drunk, having lost his balance. 

A breathless laugh escapes you as you and Yoongi straighten, separating a little. The moment between you is shattered, clattering away like pieces of broken glass as you catch your breath and gather your wits. You look around, searching for Taehyung only to see him alone at your table, eyes heavy and gaze lingering across the room. You turn to see Jimin leaning on the bar, smiling at something a woman is whispering in his ear. 

Glancing back at Taehyung, you see him shove away from the table and storm out the door. Yoongi notices this too, but he’s slow on the uptake, his hand still on your hip. You shake off his hold on you and go after Taehyung, shouting his name.

Taehyung is just outside the Desert Rose, head tilted down and shoulders pulled up tight around his ears. When you touch the small of his back, he flinches, gazing at you with tear-stained eyes and a look so crestfallen you feel your heart crack.

He sniffs. “This is why,” he whispers. “This is why I told you we can never be. Humans and dreams - we aren’t. We don’t match.” 

“Taehyung,” you whisper. You don’t know what else to say. You open your arms and he leans into you, folding in half as he sobs, breaking down into your shoulder. You hush him gently, holding him tight and squeezing him, trying to pour your love into him. 

Over Taehyung’s shoulder, your gaze settles on Yoongi. He watches the two of you in silence, face impassive. And your heart breaks a little more, realizing the truth of Taehyung’s words. 

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[thepradapariah]

Your Rising Sign ✨. The Male Gaze 👀. & Female Character Movie/TV Tropes 📺.

Are you the manic pixie dream girl or the femme fatale?!

Astro Observations 🪐

Using Movies & TV shows, I’ll be talking about observations I’ve made about rising signs! This is just my opinion! You are more than welcome to share your thoughts in the comment section!

(If you know your sidereal Rising Sign Naksaktra EVEN BETTER!)

Disclaimer:

BARE WITH ME HERE!!! This post is written in a VERY generalized way. I am not trying to be exclusionary at all! I want this to be a fun post about movies & astrology. Please be creative with your pronouns if needed! This post is for anyone who wants to read it, no matter your gender or preference, but it will be written in traditional cis-gender fashion, BUT!!!!! I have tried to incorporate all female identifying communities within the examples! I hope there is something for everyone :)

Before we begin:

Definitions:

✨What is the Male Gaze?

“In feminist theory, the male gaze is the act of depicting women and the world, in the visual arts and in literature, from a masculine, heterosexual perspective that presents and represents women as sexual objects for the pleasure of the heterosexual male viewer. In the visual and aesthetic presentations of narrative cinema, the male gaze has three perspectives: (i) that of the man behind the camera, (ii) that of the male characters within the film's cinematic representations; and (iii) that of the spectator gazing at the image.” — Wikipedia

✨What is a Character trope?

“A trope is an idea, pattern or motif that appears often enough in a particular art form that consumers of that art form begin to form particular associations with that idea.” - The Novel Factory

Introduction:

Men tend to be VERY simple creatures. Yes, they may present themselves as the broody artist w a checkered past or a sci-fi-nerdy-glasses-wearing-type fellow who LOVES Star Wars & Comic-Con. But believe it not, both these men have something in common…Their simplicity. Most men see life in black & white. They tend to take things at face value & rarely feel the need to dig deeper into something unless they are called to. This is not to over generalize (or perhaps that’s exactly what this is) but to draw attention to the straight forward attitude men usually have towards life. (I blame this on their primal hunter/gathering nature, but that’s another topic for another day). Men tend to prefer life & communication to be clear & concise, whereas woman tend to be far more “colorful” in our approach. We don’t spare any details when talking w our girlfriends about the latest gossip as if it’s our life’s duty, where men can sit in silence, playing video games & be perfectly content. In fact, I learned in sociology, that men can actually have ZERO brain activity happening at times (besides the automatic stuff, like breathing lol). Meaning— men can actually sit & think about nothing. Women, not so much, we are constantly stimulated, thinking & planning ahead. Because of this cosmically cerebral mis-match, the way men & woman tend to view each other can be a point of contention. Woman tend to over complicate men & men tend to over simplify woman. Thus giving us the ongoing battle of real complex female characters VS. the over simplified version of them through the Male Gaze. Do men think woman just sit around playing in make-up & fashion, bursting out into random tears & having pillow fights all day? If you ask Hollywood— probably. In this post, we will be specifically looking at how men over simplify woman using Movie/TV tropes & comparing them to the display of our rising sign, &/or if you know it, your rising Nakshatra.

You should know, that before I got into tarot & astrology, I graduated from the film school at New York University. So I am WELL AWARE of the film/tv writing process & thought this would be a cool way to combine my education of films & my love for astrology to teach & critique how woman tend to be represented in Cinema & Television— and in return, real life. (Art meets Life, amiright?)

There has been a discourse in the film & tv world about how woman are represented through the male gaze. I’m sure you’ve heard of the “manic pixie dream girl” trope over saturating the market right now. (Don’t worry, we will get into this later). Woman feel as if these are shallow representations of the feminine experience. While I agree with this statement, usually we don’t see very fleshed out, complex & interesting woman from male writers. (*cough cough* Euphoria Season 2.) I’m arguing here that until we form deep & intimate connections with men, they tend to see us, woman, as these movie tropes, IRL (in real life). If you don’t understand what I’m saying, hang in there w me.

Because men tend to be simple & take things at face value, they can miss out on the nuances of the woman they are with. How many times have we seen in movies a wife gets a haircut & the husband doesn’t notice? See, no eye for detail, or subtlety. Those small details that make us unique from other woman tends to go over their heads from time to time. And in a day in age where woman are generalized more on a mass scale through social media, it’s easy for men to get carried away thinking woman are all the same or simply, just not that complicated. This isn’t a bad thing, per say, this is just the default until we are able to build a lasting, deep connection between masculine & feminine energy.

In this post, we are going to be breaking down this “conundrum” by RISING SIGNS/1H/Nakshatras. Why? Because the rising sign is how you are seen in the world. The first house rules the body, & what people project on to you as well as what you project onto other people. (The beauty of the 1H/7H axis…more about this later) As a sidereal astrology girly, I think the first house/Rising Sign Nakshatra rules the personality more so than the sun & moon sign. After all, it is called “person”-ality, & the 1H is the house of person, whereas the 7H is the house of partner.

✨Why Does this Matter?

Well first off, it matters how much you want it to matter. This post is for inspiring self expression. By seeing how you effortlessly come across through the male gaze, you may be able to craft your own unique persona or perfect one of these tropes. I am not writing this post because you have to see yourself the way men see you or over simplify yourself while getting to know someone, I’m writing this to give you some indication of HOW men see you so you can put on a SHOW! I’m hoping this gives you the encouragement to take your narrative into your own hands & present your femininity in a way that’s true & authentic to you. I am an absolute FAN of these female tropes. Movies & tv shows have helped me curate the kind of woman I want to come across as. Nothing like seeing a great character on TV that you want to emulate. We all have the ability to play pretend. Look at using the male gaze as a game of dress-up. You can ALWAYS play the part in the ever going Hollywood Film— Your Life.

✨What is the First House?

The first house is the house of first impressions— the cover of the book men are judging.

Because your first house is home to your rising sign, to put it simply, the first house is how you come off to others at first glance. Even though I’m sure you’re a beautiful, complex & intriguing creature, for the sake of this article, we are looking at the first house through a “shallow” perspective. You may feel as if these descriptions don’t fit you at all, in fact, you may feel like this is the total opposite of who you actually are! (Blame the contradiction of 1H/7H axis for this one) However it’s not about how you feel, it’s about how you come across…

Read this article as if you are your crush meeting you for the first time. (Read that again, very meta, I know). The Male Gaze in movies/tv has been argued to be lazy & uninspired writing. I personally think that’s just the male gaze in general. I kid, I kid. Lol. But seriously…they are very simple minded, so we can use this to our advantage to give some of the best performances of our lives!

***If you are reading for your Sidereal Vedic Rising (which is HIGHLY suggest), please look up the degree, so you can read for the specific Nakshatra)

(If you are a man reading this, I don’t mean to drag you. We all know the childhood fact, Men are from Mars & Woman are from Venus. Lol.)

Through the Male Gaze, we will be breaking down how you come off through your rising sign & placements as Classic Movie & TV Character Tropes.

How to Read:

✨IF YOU KNOW YOUR SIDEREAL VEDIC RISING NAKSHATRA: Read that first! That will be the most specific to the trope. (I didn’t double dip, each nakshatra is only used ONCE)

______________

✨If you DON’T know your Sidereal Rising Nakshatra & your reading as a Western/Tropical Girlie———>

✨You can read for the sign in your first house (your rising sign) &/or planets placed in your FIRST OR SEVENTH HOUSE!

✨7H placements cast a direct aspect on your 1H, so if your rising sign doesn’t resonate, check your 7H placements! They have a major influence as well!

✨If you have multiple planets in your 1H &/or 7H, the planet with the LOWEST degree is the dominant planet. Ex: If you have Saturn at 26 degrees and Venus at 2 degrees, you would read the Venus tropes.

✨Unlike men, I’m giving you some flexibility (Lol) Your placements may overlap. For example, if you’re a Pisces Rising— read the blurbs for Manic Pixie Dream Girl & Girl Next Door. One description will probably fit better than the others, but you got options! If you know your sidereal chart for your rising Nakshatra, you’ll get

***There is NO direct correlation between the signs & Naks picked, this is a matter of opinion, so I put what I felt worked!***

Please please please keep in mind, movies & tv characters are larger than life, so please have fun with this post!!! This is over the top!! If you can imagine that you were an old Hollywood glamour queen or a modern cinema starlit, this would be your starring role!!!

⚠️ I do not want to offend ANYONE by using traditional gender pronouns. I am a cis-gender heterosexual female, so I am writing from the perspective I know best. I am NOT trying to say this is the only perspective that matters. I have included cis-woman, trans women & lesbians as examples in this post. Please feel free to share any insights you have, no matter the gender, non-gender or perspective! I’m truly open & supportive. This is not an exclusionary post.

⚠️ SPOILER ALERT!!!! I am using Movies & Television shows as examples, so be prepared!

⚠️ Of course, special shout-out to my little sister! Without her, none of this would be possible!!

On with the Show! 🌹

💋 Manic Pixie Dream Girl

Nakshatras: Ardra, Punarvasu, Swati, Vishika, Mula

Zodiac: Gemini, Virgo, Sagittarius, Pisces (All Mutable Rising Signs) & Aquarius

Planets: Neptune, Mercury, Jupiter (1st or 7th House, lowest degree)

Tarot Card: Princess of Cups (Earth & Water)

✨Definition

“[The Manic Pixie Dream Girl] exists solely in the fevered imaginations of sensitive writer-directors to teach broodingly soulful young men to embrace life and its infinite mysteries and adventures… [The MPDG] seems to exist only to provide spiritual or mystical help to the protagonist. The MPDG has no discernible inner life. Instead, her central purpose is to provide the protagonist with important life lessons. “

-Wikipedia (Manic Pixie Dream Girl was coined by Nathan Rabin)

✨The Manic Pixie Dream Girl is arguably THEE female movie trope of the last 40 years in pop culture. As movies moved away from the Bombshell aesthetic of the 1950’s, most notably, Marilyn Monroe; Audrey Hepburn as Holly Golightly in Breakfast at Tiffany’s introduced a new kind of woman. (Even her last name, go-lighly is a play on her attitude towards the world) A woman who throws caution to the wind & isn’t afraid to take risk. In fact, this woman LIVES to take risk! She flutters in & flutters out of the Male gaze, usually chasing some wild dream of being a fashion designer, writer, actress ect, OR is a notch above (or under, depending on how you look at it) an aimless sexy hobo. Regardless of her career ambitions, she’s always as creative as she is elusive— yet somehow, is always able to drop into the male’s life right in the knick of time, whisking the male away on some fever-dream like adventures. Encountering the Manic Pixie Dream Girl almost ALWAYS accompanies a spiritual Awakening for our male protagonist. Upon meeting this woman, usually in some weird, “only happens once in a life-time” way, his world gets thrown into a chaotic flurry. Everything he thought he knew he now knows he never knew anything about it at all. He questions life, he questions reason, he question society, capitalism, the “American Dream”, etc. This is BEST demonstrated by Marla (Helena Bonham Carter) in Fight Club, directed by David Fincher. (If you haven’t seen this movie, you MUST (18+), Brad Pitt is at PEAK sexiness…s/o to the Female Gaze lol) Fight Club is a wicked tale of a man fighting himself, society & his own psyche after meeting a woman who mirrored him so closely, it triggered a masculinity awakening. This is the function of the Manic Pixie Dream Girl. She is so free, so unbound, so fluid, & feminine, she helps to bring to life the masculine side of a man by reflecting his own inner chaos back to him.

As a Ardra, Punarvasu, Swati, Vishika, Mula Rising or Mutable Rising Sign: Gemini, Virgo, Sagittarius, or Pisces, this could be one of the ways you appear through the male gaze. Because your temperament & view of life can be so changeable, you can come across as a free-spirit, a loss soul, or a wonderer. Perhaps you are, & perhaps you aren’t, but as quickly as you change a hairstyle, you change your goals in life. The male feels as if he needs to tame you, give you structure, security or direction OR he feels like he wants to join you! Break away from the daily grind of life, break societies expectations of him & rendezvous w you, eating cereal, painting & watching cartoons all day. You can represent a child-like wonder and be the embodiment of the “wild-side” of life! As the mutable rising signs of the Zodiac, you tend to be moody & unpredictable. Through the Male Gaze, men may find it hard to connect with you because you always seem “elsewhere”. You always seem a little dazed, perhaps a little confused, but certainly “pixie” like in your approach to life. To the right male, you are fascinating, like a Jackson Pollock painting (the splatter paint dude) in the works— each stroke improvised, never knowing where the paint is going to land, but intrigued more by your process than the final product.

✨Music:

Female Gaze: Like a Bird- Nelly Furtado

Male Gaze: Sex And Candy- Marcy Playground

✨Examples

Holly Golightly- Breakfast at Tiffany’s

Jules- Euphoria

Summer- 500 Days of summer

Robyn Brooks- High Fidelity

Helena- Fight Club

Cat- Victorious

Issa- Insecure

Raven- That’s So Raven

Bubbles- Powerpuff Girls

Emily- Emily in Paris

Sally Bowles- Cabaret

💋Ice Queen

Nakshatras: Jyestha, Dhanishta, Uttara Bhadrapada

Zodiacs: Aquarius, Libra, Cancer, Scorpio

Planets: Saturn, Uranus, Moon, Venus

Tarot Card: Queen of Swords (Water & Air)

✨Defintion:

“…Cool, reserved, and giving nothing away. She may want love as ardently as anyone, but she masks her soft heart behind a wall of ice. It is up to someone else, typically her Love Interest, to soften her cold demeanor and win her love.

The Ice Queen is considered dangerous to love because she will not (or cannot) love back. She's not much for friendship either, preferring to be alone.” tvtropes .org

✨The Ice Queen is cold & unforgiving. She IS the resting bitch face personified, unimpressed & unfazed by those around her. Seemingly aloof, the male in the story is always trying to breakthrough her tough and unbothered exterior. Her coldness posses a real challenge to anyone who is interested in her romantically. She’s just a bitch. And a bad one at that! The Ice Queen is stern in her appearance & her approach to life. Usually divorced, or widowed, but doesn’t have to be, she walks as if she carries the weight on the world of her shoulder. She’s been abandoned by happiness in life, but she’s so regal, no one knows how deep her scars cut. She can resemble the Boss Bitch/Diva trope, because she normally holds a lot of power, but she carries a certain detachedness that is unique to this trope. She is NOTHING nice. The Ice Queen is hard to please & has no issues letting people know she’s unsatisfied. The Male wants to “warm her up”, breakthrough her cold exterior & get to know why she is so damn mean! In some cases he succeeds, in others he realized she’s just a mean & shallow as he originally thought. Elvira Hancock in Scarface is the prototype for this feminine character trope. Not only is her nose typically buried nose deep in snow (if you get it, you get it), she’s. a. straight. cold-hearted. biotch. She’s unbelievably gorgeous & unapproachable, & this is exactly what draws the male protagonist in to her. But even after the male “wins her over”, she was never satisfied. An Ice Queen to her CORE, she was never one to be defrosted. Defamed? Maybe…Defrosted…never.

It’s worth noting that the Ice Queen is usually HIGHLY fashionable. Not the cheap stuff either— the Ice Queen is a Queen none the less. She’s not the T-shirt & jeans girl next door, or the purple hairdo manic pixie…she’s class & sophistication. First rule, you gotta be hot to be so cold.

If you are a Jyestha, Dhanishta, Uttara Bhadrapada Rising or an Aquarius, Libra or Cancer Rising, or have Saturn, Uranus, the Moon, or Venus aspecting your first house, you may find that you come across as the Ice Queen through the male gaze. You carry a certain reserved & detached aura upon first meeting someone. Rarely would you put all your cards on the table. There is also a certain maturity that you carry with you when you walk into a room. Men will assume “oh, this girl, she’s been through some stuff”. You may find that you are somewhat withdrawn in social situations, although people may be very drawn to you. You don’t necessarily care about being liked, but you certainly care about being respected. You come off as if you don’t tolerate any kind of messiness. Men may think you play hard to get or that you just think you’re better than the average. Whatever! You don’t care what they think. You’re too busy reading or being an intellectual (whatever that means lol…this is the male gaze we are talking about). Again, to the right egotistical man who believes he can “warm you up”, you are a welcomed and ongoing challenge. The Ice Queen is the female trope of male dissatisfaction. When a Male encounters the Ice Queen in cinema, she tend to represent a part of the male that will NEVER be pleased, content or accepted. Normally the man after this cold woman’s stone-cold heart is trying to prove his worth to the world around him, & the Ice Queen serves as the perfect trophy. If he can impress her/have her, he can impress anyone & have the World! The Ice Queen is the ultimate prize for the male protagonist w ego/self-esteem issues. Nothing humbles a man quite like a cold-hearted bitch. You may find in your dating life, Male’s feel the need to impress you for no good reason..or maybe you enjoy watching men walk on their heads for a date w you! Either way, as the Ice Queen female trope you carry a certain air about you that commands attention & respect. You carry authority over yourself & those around you. The male gaze says although your intimidating, your worth a try to shut down all the haters, even if you’re hater number 1!

✨Music:

Female Gaze: Needed Me- Rihanna

Male Gaze: Roses- OutKast, Cooler than Me- Mike Posner

✨Examples

Elvira Hancock-Scarface

Camille- The Sapranos

Lady Mae Greenleaf- Greenleaf

Elsa- Frozen

Jade- Victorious

Elekta Evangelista- Pose

Claire- House of Cards

Molly- Insecure

Lucille- Arrested Development

Betty Draper- Mad Men

Mother Shannon, House of Balenciaga- Legendary

Cersei Lannister- Game of Thrones

Dominique La Rue- Harlem Nights

Gru’s Mom- Despicable Me

💋Femme Fatale

Nakshatras: Ashwini, Bharani, Ashlesha, Purva Bhadrapada, Shatabisha

Zodiacs: Aries, Scorpio, Cancer

Planets: Mars, Pluto

Tarot Card: Queen of Wands (Fire & Water)

✨Definition

“A femme fatale,sometimes called a maneater or vamp, is a stock character of a mysterious, beautiful, and seductive woman whose charms ensnare her lovers, often leading them into compromising, deadly traps. She is an archetype of literature and art. Her ability to enchant, entice and hypnotize her victim with a spell was in the earliest stories seen as verging on supernatural; hence, the femme fatale today is still often described as having a power akin to an enchantress, seductress, witch, having power over men. Femmes fatales are typically villainous, or at least morally ambiguous, and always associated with a sense of mystification, and unease.”

-Wikipedia

✨The Femme Fatale is arguably the most ICONIC of the female movie tropes. A popular trope of Film Noir “movement” in the late 1940s, early 1950s, the Femme Fatale is a sexual seductress with a naughty side. Enchanting as she is dangerous, the male gaze ogles her, even though it may cost him his life— or at least his job & social standing. Medusa is one of the best representations of this trope. If a man locks eyes w her, he’s as good as dead— yet, time & time again, men tried to defeat her, only to meet a tragic end. As time progressed, the story of the woman who turns men to stone (definitely a sexual innuendo if you ask me) found new life in television & film. The Femme Fatale is a beautiful disaster just waiting to happen. She’s wild, like the Manic Pixie Dream Girl, but she has a certain knack for danger and crime. She lures the male in & traps him like a spider in her web. The male is usually a little weary of the woman, but is overcome w her grace & charm, or he’s truly an unsuspecting victim who gets completely taken advantage of an entangled in whatever mess she’s made for herself. One way or the other, the male often ends up in a position of life & death after lusting after this dark & intriguing beauty. The film, Carmen Jones, starring Dorthy Dandridge, is a classic tale of a woman w loose morals who ends up (spoiler alert) dead. Unlike most of the other female tropes, the femme fatale almost always suffers consequences for her actions. She either ends up in jail, or dead, or kills her lover, or he ends up in jail, or her lover ends up dead. Tragic, I know. Again, think of Medusa…she killed everything she laid her eye on, & then ultimately had to be killed. (RIP Medusa, you were a baddie). No one gets out scotch free when dealing w this character. The femme fatale is mysterious, almost like a mythical creature or an enchantress, & the male is instantly drawn into her, whether they exchange words in a bar, or she simply flicks her cigarette & he rushes to relight it. One thing is for sure, she lives by her own rules & is bound by nothing…not the law or death itself. She’s usually a criminal minded free-spirit, manipulating her way through life to survive.

If you are an Ashwini, Bharani, Ashlesha, Purva Bhadrapada Rising Or an Aries, Scorpio, or Cancer Rising, or you have Pluto or Mars aspecting your 1H, you may come off as the femme fatale through the male gaze. Your dark, broody & secretive nature is fascinating to them, and they want to join you on a passionate journey through time & space or save you from whatever sticky situation you may have put yourself in. They want to play detective & you are the perfect case to crack. When the femme fatale enters the male’s life, she instantly posses a threat to his usually naive understanding of the world. She’s not your typical housewife— far from it. She challenges the traditional social construct of beauty & submission. Normally from a troubled/difficult past past, the femme fatale will only submit to law & death, she’s been forced to learn the ugly sides of life & uses them to her advantage. You may find that male’s tend to want to dominate you or control your direction in life in relationships, but you are REPULSED by this notion. This trope teaches men (and woman sadly), that freedom comes w a cost. Hopefully it’s not your life, but if it is, you sure make a sexy corpse!

✨Music:

Female Gaze: Wild side- Normani

Male Gaze: Dirty Diana -Michael Jackson

✨Examples

Filomena (Sophia Lauren)- Marriage Italian Style

Cat Woman- Batman

Carmen- Carmen Jones

Dr. Frank-N-Furter (played by the wonderful Lavern Cox)- The Rocky Horror Picture Show

Jennifer- Jennifer’s Body

Gilda (Rita Hayworth)- Gilda

Amy Dunne- Gone Girl

Laura Biel- 365 Days

Alex Vause- Orange Is the New Black

💋Queen Bee/Mean Girl

Nakshatras: Krittika, Purva Phalguni, Chitra, Purva Ashadha

Zodiacs: Libra, Capricorn, Aries, Leo, Taurus & Gemini

Planets: Venus, Mars, Sun, Mercury

Tarot Card: Princess of Swords (Earth & Fire)

“The Mean Girl trope had us all believe that the dark side to womanhood is catty, conniving competitiveness.”

The swaddle.com

“Mean girls are often overly concerned with appearance. They may place a high priority on their clothing, their make-up, and even their weight. Likewise, they may zero in on these things in others, pointing out everything from acne and weight gain to clothing choices and hairstyles.”

-theteenmagazine.com

✨Somewhere between The Ice Queen and The Diva, there lies a sweet sour sweet CLASSIC female trope that always leaves the girls GAGGING in disbelief, like “did she just say that?!!” The Queen Bee/Mean Girl trope has her fair share of representation in film & TV, particularly in teen dramas, but she is NOT limited to high school. The Queen Bee is in charge, she knows what she wants, she knows how she likes it & she has ZERO problem letting her loyal subject know. Sometimes, she is portrayed w a deep deep deep DEEP down heart of hold, but most of the time, she’s just a straight biotch from beginning to end. You DON’T want to cross her, or you just might end-up on her ever growing hit-list. If there is one thing Ms. Mean Girl can do..it’s hold a grudge. As stated above, the Queen Bee/Mean girl trope serves the stereotype of the cattiness & competitiveness of femininity. And it is a fact that in the wild, the female animals are usually far more aggressive than their male counterparts. (Think Lion, or a Mama Bear). Boys may have their sports, but lady’s have their looks & they will secure that W come hell or high water all the way to Prom Queen.

If you are a Krittika, Purva Phalguni, Chitra, Purva Ashadha Rising or Libra, Taurus, Aries, Leo or Gemini Rising, OR if you have Venus, Mars or the Sun aspecting your 1H/7H, you may come off as the typical Mean Girl Trope through the Male Gaze. You’re aloof, yet decisive about the things you truly care about— like— “Wednesdays, we wear pink”. You keep people on the tip of their toes with witty banter & effortless conversation. If they don’t know the latest trends, the current celebrity gossip or who dumped whom…well, you’re just not interested in what they have to say, so why bother? You can play the villain easily & have no problem being unliked as long as you are respected. You are a social butterfly, a socialite, if you will. You know how to make the streets talk with admiration & envy. People may be afraid that they can’t meet your standards, but good, they probably can’t. NO UGLY FRIENDS is the motto— people may think you actually hold try-outs for who is allowed to sit with you at the table. Through it all, you know how to take control & lead— this energy oozes from you as people seem to just step aside as you sashay down the halls. Always up on the latest fashion, you always come w your A-game and your enemies will NEVER catch you slipping. There is a beautiful confidence that you exude because you know you are the one and only. People may be extremely intimidated by you, but the real ones will bow at your feet.

The shadow side of this trope is the shadiness. Queen Bees/Mean girls are known for being just that—MEAN. People may assume that you are quite backstabby & mischievous. YOU, of all the movie tropes, don’t mind playing

d-i-r-t-y! People perceive you as never wanting to let go of that crown & you’ll do whatever it takes to keep the social order in tact. Think “Status-Quo” High School Musical w Sharpay, the ULTIMATE representation of this trope, screaming from the top of the cafeteria! (THIS IS NOT WHAT SHE WANTS! THIS IS NOT WHAT SHE PLANNED!!!!!) She didn’t care who she had to cut, scheme, lie, trick, plot & sabotage to make SURE Ms. Gabriella did not get the spotlight w her man, Troy. Think of the lengths you’ll go to to get what you want. You come off as spicy, cunt-y (in the best way), & beautiful. You are a glamour girl & never afraid to throw some shade here & there, making you the ultimate reigning Queen Bee!

✨Music

Female Gaze: Feeling Myself- Nicki Minaj

Male Gaze: Mad at myself- Issues

✨Examples

Maddie- Euphoria

Regina George- Mean Girls

CoCo- Dear White People

Lulu- Pose

Toni- Girlfriends

Emma Roberts in Coven & Scream Queens

Blair- Gossip Girl

Cheryl Blossom- Riverdale

Santana- Glee (Rest in Peace)

Buttercup- Powerpuff Girls

Alison DiLaurentis- Pretty Little Liars

Sharpay- High School Musical

The Heathers

Penelope- My Dog (LOVE HER, but she’s such a Bitch—a bad one though lol)

💋Ingenue/Damsel in Distress

Nakshatras: Mrigashirsa, Rohini, Hasta, Revati

Zodiacs: Cancer, Capricorn, Libra, Aries (All Cardinal Rising Signs) & Pisces, Taurus

Planets: Moon, Venus, Saturn

Tarot Card: Queen of Cups (Water) Libra, Aries

“The ingénue usually has the fawn-eyed innocence of a child but subtle sexual appeal as well.”

“The damsel in distress is a recurring narrative device (or trope) in which one or more men must rescue a woman who has either been kidnapped or placed in general peril. Kinship, love, or lust (or a combination of those) gives the male protagonist the motivation or compulsion to initiate the narrative. The female character herself may be competent, but still finds herself in this type of situation.”

Wikipedia

✨The Ingenue/Damsel in Distress is one of the most recognizable female movie tropes to date. From the tales of The Greeks, to King-Kong, to Broomhilda from Djengo— there is always some damsel…somewhere…that is…in fact…in…distress. The Ingenue is a naive babe, just learning the ins & outs of life. She’s pretty, she’s unassuming & adorably doe-eyed, full of wonder for the life ahead of her— just waiting for a strong man to show her the way! The ingenue is common, but in the best way. She’s not an ice-cold bitch like the Ice Queen or the Queen Bee, but she sits more in her femininity that the Tomboy or the Diva. She’s divine & subtle and a man is always lurking around the corner, waiting to whisk her away from all the evils in the world. If this sounds like a Disney Princess, it’s because it is. Most Disney Princesses would fit into the Ingenue/Damsel in Distress character trope, but just like most of the Princesses, no matter how young & impressionable, the Ingenue is usually the one who makes a way for herself in the end.

If you are a Mrigashirsa, Rohini, Hasta, Revati Rising or a Cardinal rising (Aries, Cancer, Libra Capricorn) or Pisces, the male gaze may perceive you as the Ingenue/Damsel in Distress trope. Your beauty & grace exceed you, & your youth is ever-present. When the male sees you, they just want to protect you & hold you dear. You spark masculinity in those who are attracted to you because you come across so soft & gentle. But don’t get it twisted, you can be a little spicy! You certainly have a little sass to you, but you try not to wear it on your sleeve. You are a true darling to those who are deserving. You serve ultimate demure womanliness & you seem to glide through any room you’re in. Although your impulsiveness & naiveté may land you in some sticky situations, there’s always a lovely leading man just beyond the pines to lead you out of the darkness and into their arms (Awwwwwwwwwww). You may be the type to need help opening the pickle jar, or clumsily fall into some big strong arms— you don’t mind being on the receiving end of affection & people just swoon over you. Unlike the Door Next Door, there can still be an “unapproachability” factor to you. You’re not the girl from down the street, you’re the new girl in town; a little lost, a little curious, but always cute! You may find that men tend to underestimate you & you’re constantly trying to prove yourself. OR you can find yourself in situations where your voice tends to be over powered as you get lost in a sea of toxic masculinity! Either way, you know how to leave a room in awe. You carry just enough mystique & intrigue that male’s fight to know more about you, but yet they just feel as if you’re a naturally good person. You’re coy, but not too coy. You’re shy, but not too shy. You are the perfect “woman”. You may have a past, but your future is always bright! A hero waits around the corner for the perfect time to catch you when you fall or introduce you to a world you didn’t know existed.

As the Ingenue/Damsel in Distress, your energy is POWERFUL, almost as if you’re sexily yelling “Fire! Fire! Save me! Help me!” when you walk into the room. You know how to keep the male gaze & they will break their necks to see you eloquently walk by. Before the reign of the Manic Pixie Dream Girl, you were the trope on top— the beautiful default representation of hyper-femininty in the 20s/30s/40s. You set the standards for the early starlets, they were nothing if they weren’t the lovely ingenue!

✨Music

Female Gaze: Bring Me to Life- Evanessance, Pretty When I Cry- Lana Del Ray

Male Gaze: Let Me Love You- Mario

✨Examples

Betty Draper- Mad Men

Celie- The Color Purple

Neytiri- Avatar

Autumn- P-Valley

Daisy- The Great Gatsby

Persephone- The [Abduction] of Persephone

Irene- Drive

Angel Evangelista- Pose

Disney Princesses

Broomhilda- Django Unchained

Piper Chapman- Orange Is the New Black

Mississippi- P-Valley

Penelope- The Odyssey

Satine- Mulan Rouge

💋Girl Next Door/Tomboy

Nakshatras: Anuradha, Uttara Ashadha, Shravana

Planets:Jupiter, Venus, Neptune

Zodiacs: Virgo, Sagittarius, Pisces, Taurus, Libra

Tarot Card: Princess of Pentacles (Earth)

“The girl next door is usually from a small town or an un-flashy neighborhood. Her personality tends to be down-to-earth, supportive, and approachable. For both her main boy and her culture at large, the girl next door embodies an idealized, wholesome femininity.”

-the-take.com

✨The Girl Next Door/Tomboy Trope is by far the most realistic & relatable female trope of all. She’s not flashy. She’s not mean. She’s kind & sometimes even “one of the guys”. She gives off an innocence that makes her irresistible to the male gaze because she’s just so darn cool. She’s “not like the other girls”. Although she may prefer a comfy t-shirt & jeans, she’s comfortable in her femininity. She doesn’t try to compete with other woman— even though other woman my try & compete with her. Why? Because she’s usually the girl surrounded by all the guys— not because she flaunts her beauty, but rather because she’s not stuck on herself. She challenges the status quo demonstrating that sexy can be fun, sexy can be sweet & sexy can be “normal”. Zendaya is arguably the IT girl of a generation & she usually plays this type of character. She comes across as someone you can sip cool-aid with after she beats you in a round of basketball! For some, that’s sexier than Marilyn Monroe herself! This is the All-American (no matter the race) beauty that only lives a few doors down. This trope is most likely to be in the “friend-zone”, until one day the male realizes…”OH MY GOSH! SHE HAS BOOBS!”

If you are an Anuradha, Uttara Ashadha, Shravana Rising OR a Virgo, Sagittarius, Pisces, Taurus, Libra Rising, you could come off as the Girl Next Door/Tomboy female trope. You’re approachable & not stuck on yourself & that makes you highly desirable through the male gaze. You’re simple & non-demanding like some of your other female counterparts and this makes you a breath of fresh air in a Kardashian fueled instagram dystopia. Don’t get me wrong, I’m sure you know how to clean up nicely! When it’s times for you to put on a skirt & heels, you knock ‘em dead. You’re stunning! But you’d much rather lead with personality than looks. You have an effortlessness about you that can’t be obtained by just anyone. At times you may feel a bit awkward about your sexuality, but again, through the right male’s gaze, this is SUCH a turn on. This is an extremely powerful trope because you are realistic. You may have big dreams, but you feel like you come from humble beginnings. You’re authentic to yourself, not to Chanel & Gucci. Sometimes, you may feel overlooked & one-up’d by the “popular girl”, but there is ALWAYS someone who thinks you are the most beautiful girl in the room because you light up the room like no body else & don’t get me started on the way you flip your hair & how it gets the boys overwhelmed. You don’t know you’re beautiful…and that’s….that’s what makes you so beautiful. How lovely!

If you are the Girl Next Door Trope, you don’t have to worry about putting on a show to impress the boysies around you. Just continue to be you’re cool & down to Earth self. Even though it seems like we live in Shallow Land, where everything is based on superficial looks & flawless instagram selfies, you’re super special because you don’t give in. Don’t conform & don’t rush to be the “it” girl. You don’t need the BBL & the thick lashes. (NOTHING IS WRONG W THIS!!! NOTHING~~~) Your natural beauty is more than enough through the Male Gaze!

✨Music

Female Gaze: All You Wanted- Michelle branch

Male Gaze: Hey There Delilah- The Plain White Tees

*sorry I couldn’t link it! Ran out of space!

✨Examples

MJ (Zendaya)- Spider-Man

Zoe- Grownish

Victoria-Victorious

Monica- Love & Basketball

Bella- Twilight

Justice-Poetic Justice

Peggy- Mad Men

Moeisha- Moeisha

Betty Cooper- Riverdale

Blanca Rodriguez- Pose

Apollonia- Purple Reign

Danielle- The Girl Next Door

💋Diva/Boss Bitch

Nakshatras: Pushya, Magha, Uttara Phalguni

Planets: Sun, Saturn, Mars

Zodiacs: Leo, Scorpio, Taurus, Aquarius (All Fixed Rising Signs) & Sagittarius, Capricorn

Tarot Card: Queen of Pentacles (Earth & Water)

“The strong, dark, beautiful woman. She's often a go-getter, chasing stardom, wealth, or just recognition for her talents. If she becomes an Idol, she's not constrained by the pressures of always appearing youthful, innocent, and approachable.

Part of her allure is instead her maturity, either in personality or in sexuality. When she walks in the room she not only turns heads, but she demands respect and won't hesitate to set you straight if she doesn't get it.”

-tvtropes.org

✨The Diva/Boss Bitch Female trope is THEE BADDEST BITCH. She’s worked hard to get where she is & she isn’t going to let some MAN come along and knock her off her thrown. This female trope demands a certain level of respect when she walks into the room— all heads turn because they know she’s the boss, just waiting to give quick & sharp directions. Usually fashionable, because she can AFFORD it (hello!), she knows how to command in any setting while looks good. A trend setter! She may be one of the most intimidating of the female tropes through the Male Gaze, on par with the Ice Queen, because the Diva carries a certain masculine energy. She usually is running things & bossing men around herself. She doesn’t let her sex get in the way of her ambition & talent. This character trope is not afraid to speak her mind because she knows she has just as much right to a seat at the table as anyone. She’s hard to impress & won’t settle for anything less than perfect. Mediocrity will NOT FLY with the Diva. She expects & she will have the best.

If you are a Pushya, Magha, Uttara Phalguni Rising or a Leo, Scorpio, Taurus, Aquarius, Sagittarius, or Capricorn Rising, you may come off as the Diva/Boss Bitch female character trope. You seem to prioritize work, success & your ambition over friendships & relationships. You force the males who gaze upon you to reevaluate their own status & merit in the world. They know you can’t be easily swayed & have to step to you with their best foot forward. Usually depicted as an insatiable boss, men may feel you’re an insatiable lover— demanding & hard to please…whatever, this doesn’t stop you! You know what you want & if they don’t get it for you, you’ll get it your damn self. You come off as self-assured & somewhat egotistical. You’re proud of your work & you expect to be treated like the BOSS that you are. If someone has a problem with that, well then, they can just get in line! Olivia Pope in Scandal is a great example of this trope in action. First, she has a J.O.B. & she’s DAMN good at it. The best, even. Her sex appeal through the male gaze is due to her wits & her competence. Like you, as soon as she walks into the room, people know it’s business time.

If you are the Diva/Boss Bitch Trope, don’t let ANYONE discredit your hustle—not another woman, not a man…NO ONE! You’ve worked hard to get where you are, and it shows because of the way you carry yourself. You can be one of the classiest tropes of all & that’s more impressive than you could ever know. Your beauty lies in the fact that you are sophistication personified. Your intrigue lies in the fact of your rarity! Not every woman is as ambitious or as capable as you are. You make men shiver when they lay eyes on you because you have an aura that screams “STEP YOUR GAME UP OR GET TO STEPPING!” Never try to dim who you are. You’re bossy & you’re the bitch they all LOVE to hate! Let them! You’d probably hate you too if you weren’t you because you are just too fly to handle! Confidence oozes from your pores because you know your stuff. Although it’s lonely at the top, you enjoy the view of downtown from your corner office! It’s hard to compete where others don’t compare Ms. Diva! Own it!

✨Music

Female Gaze: Flawless- Beyoncé

Male Gaze: Ms. Independent- Ne-yo

*sorry I couldn’t link it! Ran out of space!

✨Examples

Olivia Pope- Scandal

Blossom- Powerpuff Girls

Miranda Priestly— Devil Wears

Annalise Keeting- How To Get Away With Murder

Sylvie- Emily in Paris

Jaqueline- Boomerang

Shug Avery- The Color Purple

Cookie- Empire

Mercedes- P-Valley

Matron “Mama” Morton- Chicago

#astrology #vedic astrology #astro notes #astrology observations #sidereal astrology #astrology notes #astro observations #music #rising sign #movie tropes #Spotify

[asksythe]

MXTX Interview with Risa Wataya for Subaru Magazine P.2

How to describe the main characters of "Mo Dao Zu Shi"

Risa Wataya: One of the charms of "Mo Dao Zu Shi" is that the characters are depicted in multiple dimensions. Even characters who are seen as villains or enemies will have such complex backgrounds. Sometimes I feel that some scenes pay more attention to depicting the deep psychological connections between the characters than the plot. In terms of describing emotional and psychological relationships, is there anything that needs to be emphasized?

Mo Xiang: My personal belief is: "First, let the characters interact and talk to each other in my head. Then portray them. So that I can feel that the characters' emotions are real. At this point, it's natural to imagine the way the characters talk and behave.

Similar to real-life interpersonal relationships, you have to give the characters enough time to develop and incubate a certain amount of emotion before you can start writing the story, so my creative process is very slow.

Risa Wataya: How long did it take you to finish writing "Mo Dao Zu Shi?"

Mo Xiang: Last year of university, when I was about to graduate, I started to come up with ideas. It took about ten months to write an outline. Even though I posted constantly (*) online at that time, it took me five months to finish.

(*: Here, MXTX used a term from Chinese e-literature platforms, which means daily posting for long-form novels. So she wrote and posted every day for 5 months to complete MDZS) 

Risa Wataya: So quick!

Mo Xiang: "Mo Dao Zu Shi" is my second work, and I have only completed one before. So there's still plenty of room for the imagination. Actually, I had a lot of ideas for a long time, and in my spare time, I started writing when I was about to graduate in my senior year. After the serialization process really started, I felt that it went smoothly, and I felt that the writing speed also became faster.

Risa Wataya: So that’s how it was. That’s incredible! Returning to the subject of the character, Wei WuXian, one of the main characters, although deeply misunderstood by those around him, he is still a genuinely good-hearted person. And he is also very talkative. Even in the love scenes, he talked constantly, but he never lost his charms. This makes him so much more attractive.

Mo Xiang: I think Wei WuXian is a very interesting character. If you become acquainted with him, you probably won't be able to hate him. I like the loving side of him. Whether it's fellow travelers, family, friends, passersby, or children, he is the first to show affection and take real actions.

Whether to me or to Lan Wangji, such a personality is of extreme importance. To put it bluntly, I sympathize with Lan WangJi, so for me, Wei WuXian is a fascinating and important (*) character. If I can't make myself feel "Lan WangJi will definitely love Wei WuXian. Moreover, this kind of love will be so strong that he can't forget it for the rest of his life", then I can't convince myself to believe in their love and continued writing it. Since the relationship between these two is a very important element in the work, I thought a lot about it.

(*: the way she used the word important here is in a personal and deeply emotional sense. So Wei Wuxian’s character being the way he is, kind and affectionate towards everyone and backing up his emotions with real actions, is deeply important to MXTX herself and not just the plot. The wording also means here that this is the crux of why he becomes Lan Wangji’s beloved and gaining tremendous weight in Lan Wangji’s eyes)

To Be Continued

Translation by me: Sythe / NPD Khanh

#mdzs #MXTX #Interview #Translation #wei ying #wwx

[vigilskeep]

festivals of thedas!!

five major holidays are celebrated all across thedas "from tevinter to ferelden", tied to the transition of seasons. (they are generally in the andrastian tradition, and have links to tevinter culture considering its widespread imperialism and influence.) i'm going to talk about what we know from the lore and also what i think the real world inspirations are, but i'm not the most knowledgeable person on that specifically, so if anyone has extra contributions especially for the latter, or thoughts of what their own cultural background might bring to some of these, i would love that!!

first day is celebrated, naturally, on the first day of the year! in the january equivalent month of wintermarch/verimensis. on this holiday, you visit family and neighbours, which in remote areas was once literally just an annual check that everyone was alive. there's a town gathering to commemorate the past year, with drinking and merriment, of course. celebrating the start of a new year is one of the oldest traditional holidays in the world. i might compare the tradition of making visits to scotland's 'first-footing' on hogmanay (new year's eve), where the first person who enters a home is a bringer of fortune (and gifts!). in scotland it should specifically be a dark-haired man to ensure good luck, but there are similar practises in other places with different standards

wintersend is a festival for the end of winter, celebrated at the end of the february equivalent, guardian/pluitanis. originally called "urthalis" and dedicated to urthemiel, old god of beauty and the archdemon from dao, it now celebrates the maker. i would imagine for both it stood to thank them as the bounty and plenty of creation returned to the world. we have some information on how it varies between regions. in the south, it is a day to gather, trade, arrange marriages, and attend theatre. in tevinter, it marks great tourneys and contests at the proving grounds in minrathous. nevarra, too, has "particularly grand" wintersend tournaments.

summerday (you begin to see how creative these names are) honours, you guessed it, the beginning of summer, celebrated at the beginning of may, or bloomingtide/molioris. apparently universally celebrated as a time for joy and marriage, which may explain why it was once called andoralis and sacred to andoral, old god of unity. time for those marriages the southerners arranged at wintersend to be celebrated! but most specifically, it's the day for coming of age. there's no details on at what age this occurs, and it may vary across thedas, but on summerday boys and girls wear white tunics and gowns in a grand procession to the local chantry to be taught the responsibilities of adulthood there. so most characters raised andrastian probably went through this! lots of cultures have coming of age celebrations but i'm not super familiar with them personally as my own is lacking, so i would love to have other people's takes on what else this might involve and if you see any similarities!!

funalis is now much better known in thedas as all soul's day, since after the first blight its original associations with dumat, the old god of silence, became rather unpopular. it's now spent in sombre remembrance of the dead. in some northern lands (i would expect this to be mainly acceptable in tevinter), there are parades after midnight where the people dress as spirits, which sounds so fucking cool, by the way, WHAT does that look like in the cultural imagination. in the south, it memorialises the death of andraste, with public bonfires to mark her death on the pyre, and religious plays depicting the events. all of this is obviously influenced by the real world all souls' day, a christian commemoration of the departed on 2 november, and i suspect visuals of the mexican day of the dead are being called up for the parades. however, funalis is actually celebrated at the start of august/matrinalis, which is equivalent to... you know... august. thedas gets an early start on spooky season i guess? for the southern andrastian stuff i would look at the history of miracle plays and catholic festivals

lastly, satinalia is a holiday accompanied by wild celebration, the wearing of masks, and naming the town fool as ruler for a day. it was once dedicated to zazikel, the old goddess of freedom, but is now more attributed to satina, thedas' second moon. this is very obviously linked to the ancient roman festival of saturnalia, which involved a similar switching of roles for the day, with slaves having the banquets and freedom of speech their masters would normally enjoy, and the rules changing for the day on how dress indicated rank, potentially including mask-wearing. you can see why the goddess of freedom was relevant. it's also been connected to later traditions like the british 'lord of misrule', which could be an influence too! there are many other festivals of masks to look to, as well. satinalia is celebrated at the beginning of firstfall/umbralis, which is november. in antiva, it last for a week or more, while a week of fasting follows. in others, it's marked by large feasts and the giving of gifts.

these are the festival days celebrated in all of thedas (in andrastian culture, at least), and there are likely many more regionally. for example, there's a delightful page in world of thedas vol 2 outlining all nevarra city's entertainments throughout the year, including ancestral pageants of the dead in the autumn, and winter styles of dance that mimic dragon hunting featuring armoured dress and fluttering red cloth, likely inspired by the pasodoble's mimicry of bull and matador. every place and culture in thedas surely has their own, and their own variations on the shared festivals above

i would loveeee if people included these more in their thoughts and fics and hcs. let your beloved characters get engaged at wintersend and remember their coming of age on summerday and dress up for parades!! pls. for my health.

#zevsurana academics #as requested!! :D

[fipindustries]

not a question but basically any time i remember your art exists im looking it up and down and trying to take inspiration from it. your expression work is always top notch, and the way you depict faces is the perfect balance between cartoony and well defined

oh my god this is such an amazing compliment! thank you so much!

you know, i think this has been a long time coming. im going to take this as a chance to go in depth about how my style works, why i do what i do and how i do it. do keep in mind that none of this is me saying "this is the objectively correct way of doing art" but rather just how my own process works, what I like to see in my own art.

that balance that you speak of comes from a commitment to underlying structures. what im going to call the stylization sandwich

i start with a clear, well defined solid structure, i add whatever wacky cartoony features i want on top of it (none the less strongly tied and guided by the underlying structure) and then i refine by adding as many more realistic, grounding details i want, although you can go too far with it so i gotta be careful or ill end up with those shitty "cartoon character IRL would look scary!" clickbait drawings.

(quick aside, this trend fucking sucks, its obvious the artist went out of their way to make the drawing creepy, this pretension that "actually the character would look scary irl" deliberatly misundertands the principles of stylization, its as creatively bankrupt as jokes about mario eating mushrooms)

getting back on topic, the point is that, as long as the underlying structures are solid you can build whatever you want on top of them and it will make sense

a key tool here is internalizing the way the proportions on the face work. and i say internalize because obviously i dont actually have the golden ratio memorized inside my head nor do i stop and measure and calculate all the proportions in the features. i just read a lot about drawing, i drew a lot, i tried to always keep a critical eye to what im drawing and see if it "feels" disproportionate. once you get an eye for it then you know how far you can push things before they complitely break

let me give you another example of what i feel is a botched execution of this.

if you look closely at the face on the left there are a lot of things that dont make sense. the corners of the eyebrows dip down into the eyes when usually the eyes are enveloped by the eyebrows, the way the beard grows around the nose is just not how facial hair is distributed, the mouth is too big, etc. on the left i used photoshop to reorganize the factions into something that makes a bit more sense to me

(another quick aside, the real big problem at the heart of the original drawing were not so much the proportions but the tangents, when different lines touch each other like this that is usually a big no no but that is a topic for another day)

also a lot of it is just me cheating. yeah i cheat. you ever heard how people say there is no innate talent and its all practisce and hard work. well, yeah, that is mostly true, but is also true that some people are born with inherent advantages. either taller or more predisposed to being thin or with better facial structures or better innate hand-eye coordination. i was born with an uncanny capacity to visualize stuff. i have whatever the opposite of aphantasia is. i can borderline hallucinate things if i want to. and that goes coupled with the visual intuitions i developed through practisce and training.

so first come the learned wisdom, and then comes the innate talent that helps me exploit that learned wisdom to its full potential

on top of that is corporeality, i try to draw in such a way that it conveys depth and weight to the things im drawing, certain kinds of stylizations dont care about that and choose instead to have their drawing look flat, a classic one is the UPA style

is a very fun style! very cute, very dynamic, very expressive in its simplicity. it became very popular in the 60's and 70's. personally i choose to go in a different direction. i draw in such a way that if one were to turn my drawings into 3d models not a lot would get lost in the process.

whereas other artists....

...not so much

but yeah, ultimatly it all goes back to underlying structure. any drawing can work

as long as you have a strong foundation underneath.

PS: if you like my style i cannot reccomend enough the art of @rezuaq i feel they follow a lot of the same principles i talked about here but i could be wrong.

they have been my biggest inspiration as of the last 4 years, i shamelssly stole the design of one of their characters for jennyffer. go to their blog and give them a like

#art

[remastered-feedback]

Photoshop and AI: An unintentional masterclass in cynicism

(You can also read this post on my blog/personal site!)

My feelings are very mixed on the topic of AI, mostly because I believe it is being grossly misused right now. It has incredible power to improve our ability to utilize large amounts of data, whether by allowing more effective, intuitive command processing, by utilizing that data to generate more reliable statistical predictions, or countless other legitimate uses that can actually make people's lives and interactions with technology easier and better. This isn't blockchain or web3 or the metaverse or any of the other digital snake oil that's been peddled in the last few years, there are real, powerful use-cases for AI to make the world better.

And instead of using it for any that, because the technology is primarily in the hands of out-of-touch executives at massive conglomerates, we're using it to try and eliminate jobs, gut creative work, and invent self-driving cars that totally don't commit automated hit-and-runs.

What I want to talk about today is a commercial that Adobe, one of these out-of-touch corporations trying to push AI into places nobody asked for it, has been pushing the last couple months, because I feel like it has no idea how depressing and soulless a depiction of AI's utility it has wound up presenting.

The premise for the video is pretty simple. Now you and your child - because let's be honest most small children will need an adult's help to use photoshop - can use generative AI to create your own fantastical images! On its face, this seems like a perfectly reasonable sales pitch to make.

And yet I find it an extremely depressing premise, because the AI isn't being used to accomplish some impossible task the child could have never done before. It is being used as a substitute for the child drawing the art in-question themselves.

The pitch Adobe is making is that the world is better if your child's drawing were automated and done by a machine, and that is...just so, so depressing.

I loved drawing as a kid. This sort of "Me in a magical garden with bears and cats and a castle" idea is the kind of thing I would've spent an entire afternoon having a blast coming up with. All the cats would've had names and personalities, as would the pegasus!

And all of that is just handled by a click of a button and an algorithm, and that's...sad to me. Sure it probably looks much "better" than the small child's handiwork. The kid would probably draw a bunch of stick figures and blob cats around a rectangle with triangles on top for a castle. In terms of looking "professional" it's not even a contest.

But basing the merit of the child's drawing on that completely misses the point to me. A child's drawing isn't supposed to be a masterpiece, or a professional quality work you can publish. It's an opportunity for a child to be a child, to have fun and enjoy the act of creating. Foster and learn a creative pursuit that could become a lifelong passion. None of that happens with a couple keyword searches and a click of a button.

More than anything though, there's no excitement. No joy. A child's drawing may not look impressive, but there is love and passion in it, an excitement and earnest joy that shines through even absent any fine detail. The drawings my parents saved from when I was a little kid aren't impressive visually, but they were truly labors of love. I loved making them, and I had a ton of fun doing so. That was the real value. Not something that looks like the dust jacket of a grocery store paperback's, but a kid getting to make something they loved, bringing their idea to life, and crafting every bit of it with a passion and glee a lot of us lose as adults. They didn't save those drawings because I was Rembrandt at seven, they saved them because every one of them had every ounce of care and focus my tiny hands could muster, and that meant the world to both them and me. Far more than any spit-shined generation.

That enthusiasm and wonder are truly, genuinely magical. This whole ad posits that we're better off replacing them with an AI generated amalgamation, because Dall-E's interpretation of "A pegasus on a castle" looks more "professional" than the drawing your kid spent an hour on. It fundamentally misunderstands the purpose and beauty of children creating art, and that is just...sad for what is ostensibly an art company.

I can tolerate marketing your AI features to professional adults. I mean shit, when I used to be a photographer, I'd occasionally use tools that amounted to primitive AI to fix red-eye and similar issues. There's some valid sales pitches to make there. But marketing it based on its ability to replace a child's drawings is just so unbelievably cynical, divorced from the whole point.

Every time I see it, I don't think to myself "Wow, what a cool feature," I think to myself "Wow, how jaded and out of touch was the marketing team to think that this was anything other than depressing?" It reeks of people who're so concerned with making every single thing have a neon shine and a mirror polish that they're completely oblivious to the human element that makes art worth making and consuming in the first place.

Which, thinking about it, makes a lot of sense given the features they're touting here.

#ai #ai art #adobe

[ninjapaste]

dude your art is so GOOD!!! Do you take any classes or have any tips to share? that resource post you reblogged the other day was helpful but i've felt so stuck in my art. I don't know if you have anything u learned that just made something click for u or anything like that?

Tysm anon!!!👍

In terms of your questions, I apologise i advance for the long answer im about to give and possibly things you already know haha:

I guess in terms of what classes i take, Ive gone from GCSE to A level Art and design (Fine art), and both courses have helped me to learn the importance of observation studies.

However, its moreso all the art i practice in my own time that has played the biggest part in my art improvement journey. I adopted art as a big hobby around 2018, and really ever since then I tend to draw/create for myself every day, however big or small it may be.

I guess my first tip would be to indulge in a 'sketchbook' or space to work in freely, it could be any form but the importance is that its personal and can be picked up whenever. I find that having a sketchbook to draw in has really helped with productivity and creating new ideas. I think you can go into a sketchbook space with any mindset and it can work wonders, like for example if you wanted to focus purely on challenging yourself, you can do that! If you just, want to doodle without thinking, go ahead! After all, its a sketchbook for you and nobody else, so go wild!

My next tip would definitely be, when you are feeling stuck in art, to take inspiration from a wide range of different things be it in real life or on the internet, a building or a really cool tree, since I find it defintiely fuels the creation of new ideas/concepts that can provide a path out of that creative rut. I guess to an extent there may always be periods where you have that 'I have no idea what to draw!' Feeling, and thats okay! Sometimes its refreshing that helps the most. But I often see that the solution to being in a rut is usually REFERENCING, wether it be trying to accurately draw the anatomy of an arm or if I just saw a cool design/pose/style on Pinterest and i drew a bunch of wacky characters from it. In fact, I find that places like Pinterest or Resplash are such good resources to hone imagination and generally most art skills by looking at and drawinf from all the cool images (and get some of that inspo!). And if im not using Pinterest, im usually using an art book as reference! (The itsv and splatoon art book helped me so so much lol)

On the topic of REFERENCING, its mega important! Depending on imagination/memory feels pretty good at times but its always beneficial to have image references in your process when you find its good to have them. I woudl always recommend having a reference when drawing poses/expressions/anatomy because the more you use them, the more you learn about how an object like a face muscle, a torso or even light behaves and looks and the easier it is to draw/depict them.

The next tip is uh YOUTUBE, or any account/person who's art inspires you in particular. I found that certain channels like Ethan Becker, Marc Brunet, Marco Bucci and more have helped me the most to gain confidence in drawing and learning how to practice it better. Of course, theres a lot to learn from a plethora of other channels too, even ones that dont specifically promote themselves as teachers! Also, if theres a certain style/art approach or an artist that appeals to you, study it in any way you like! Analyse an artist's work or ask/find out about their personal process (or even watch a speedpaint/art stream)! Sometimes it can be a big inspiration booster and skill boost to do just that (plus the 'artist' could be any piece of media/thing too!! Like a game or something).

Ok ok last paragraph haha, on the topic of your last question. Thinking back, its hard for me to define any specific moment or thing that gave me a 'click' moment. Its more like a process of growth that starts with learning and understanding a new thing, then familiarizing myself with using it successfully/'correctly' by studying and practicing, so that eventually its like muscle memory or easier to use in my work.

Hope this helps!!! If theres anything else you want to ask, dont be afraid to dm or send another ask!!

#ask #answer #art #im still learning so much but heres all that i can give in its long windedness #theres stuff from like #less than a year ago that i would def redraw haha #but i guess most artists feel that way about some of past work #anywayy #listening to music while sketching away GOES HARD but that might jut be me

[kaladinkholins]

i think fandoms can be soooo ridiculous a lot of the time (see: all the nonsensical fan wars, discourse, etc) but i cannot understate how much i actually love fandoms.

like yeah it may be super nerdy and even cringe and outsiders look at it like "why tf do you care about these fictional characters so much?"

but 1) my field is literally..... literary studies..... in which all i do is study fiction and analyse it like an insane person, and 2) even if that WASN'T my field, thinking about the stories we consume is important even for any person to do, because thinking about stories exercises our brain to think critically!! why do you think our ancestors used stories as a medium to share knowledge, to propagate moral values and lessons? stories—telling them, thinking about what they're saying, and caring about the characters within them—are all inherent to the human experience!!!

so that brings me to fandom. because we are literally just making these little communities with each other based on our shared love for a particular story, and for a particular character or theme within them that resonated with us, or whatever. we're all here because we loved a thing so much that we built connections from it!!!

like yeah my irl friends laugh at me when i tell them i write fanfic, cuz ha ha what a nerd what a loser etc, but dude. i made genuine real friendships from fandom alone. from just obsessing over two characters we thought were cute together, we've gone to sending each other gifts and postcards and having voice calls and confiding in each other and sharing parts of us and our personal lives and our cultures (cuz we're all from different countries) with each other! like now i don't even share a fandom with most of my old fandom friends anymore but we still stick by each other and that's amazing???

also like, i cannot emphasise enough how amazing and encouraging it is to share your craft (art/writing/etc) with others in fandom. because for example if i make my own personal art or write my own original work, i'd have no one to share it to, no one interested to see it, and thus no one will be there to provide feedback or encouragement.

but if i post a piece of fan art or fanfic, people actually do see the work i post and care about the craft and the content it's depicting and even share their thoughts on it and that ??? is so motivating and lovely ??? because even though i make art for myself, art is still meant to be shared and seen at the end of the day—even if only with one person. so to be given the means of sharing our art in such a way, to have such a community that fosters so much creativity, it's amazing. i don't really get that anywhere else.

and especially to have this in like, a casual setting, you know, where you can just be yourself and do things according to your own time and energy without the pretenses of professionalism and a perfectly curated resume or portfolio, and all the confines of a rigid work schedule, which would all make the process of creation less fun and less genuine, and instead just more taxing and chore-like.

because fandom is essentially meant to be about doing what's fun for you! it's about sharing your creations and enjoying what others share with you. you make friends and you go ham with it.

and also it's why it's more frustrating when people take things too seriously and legitimately get upset over assumptions of other people's beliefs and hold the most minor grievances that could only be felt if you're like, chronically online.

but on that note, there are definitely still honest-to-god bad people in fandom spaces too (see: racists, TERFS, homophobes, groomers, harassers, etc). but that's the case with all communities, because bad people are always going to exist, and thus statistically speaking, the bigger a group or community is, higher chances are there's gonna be some awful people in there. but honestly that is its own can of worms and also that's not what this post is about, but i felt it necessary to address because i don't want to paint fandom as like, the best thing ever in the world, because fandom spaces are incredibly flawed, as everything is.

but i've always been one to appreciate things despite its flaws. and though this may be very personal to me, when i love things so much, i am still willing to stick around and try to change the culture around it in the ways that i can (like promoting internet safety measures, creating safe spaces for thoughtful and polite discussion, raising awareness on harmful stereotypes and fandom depictions or opinions, etc).

so regardless of the bullshit that online fandom spaces tend to perpetuate, i do very much still love the way that fandom allows me to connect with folks over something as silly as our little blorbos, and from there end up making life-long friends, or at the very least new acquaintances. insert reinforcement of my thesis statement about stories fostering human connection here. the end. send post.

#fandom #inspired by me feeling lots of love for my long-time fandom friends and enjoying making new ones since joining the BES fandom #like i still remember comments i got on my fanfic from years ago. telling me how much my work resonated with them? #talking about how much they cried reading my work? how much it touched them? #like to me that's insane. like i'm thrilled to even have one (1) person care about my work ykwim #bcs irl it's hard to find that kind of recognition? ppl hear like. “oh you write/draw? cool” and it's p much whatever #so yeah. fandom has always been v important to me like i met so many cool and awesome and nice ppl bcs of it #and though I've lost touch with a lot of the friends i've made i still think abt them a lot. they all mean smth to me still #lol joining a new fandom community is makin me feel nostalgic dont mind me! #shut up haydar #scribblings.txt

[just-antithings]

Not an anti thing, but a media discourse thing that I need to rant about and I feel like this blog would generate good discussion on this.

Kids: self-censorship is still censorship!

First, self-censorship is not deciding to change your own work because you personally no longer like what you were doing. If the motivation in internal - whether you feel your portrayal of a character was off, or you realized you were relying on stereotypes and wanted to change it, or whatever it maybe - those are all valid reasons for changing your work. A piece of art is somewhat ever-evolving, after all, and an artist is never truly done with it. There's always something one can adjust/change to tweak the project just right.

However - changing what you were going to create, or not creating what you really want to because you are scared of outside forces is what we're talking about here. This is what people refer to when they say 'kill the cop inside your head'. This is the definition of self-censorship.

Censorship is not only carried out by governmental entities with official power and a stamp the way antis like to pretend it is; that is, after all, the reason they think they're not carrying on censorship campaigns when you bring it up. Contrary to their belief, however, censorship can be carried out by anybody you allow to have power over your being - very often in our younger lives censorship comes from parents, but teachers in individual classrooms can perpetrate it, those who run after school/summer camp programs can perpetrate it, random adults can perpetrate it, and even your friends can censor you!

"I can't write this pairing or my friends will make fun of me" that's self-censorship, get some new friends.

"I can't draw this content it's problematic and people will call me out for it" that's self-censorship kill the cop in your head.

"I can't engage with (reblog/retweet/comment on) this content because its got dark themes and I don't want to unwittingly hurt someone by engaging with it" that's self-censorship kill the cop in your head engaging with media on your own hurts no third party regardless of what antis say.

If you think you can't create art depicting rape because you're afraid of being called a fetishizer or told you're romanticizing it then that's self-censorship kill the cop in your head. If you're afraid that depicting a queer, disabled POC makes you seem 'woke' that's self-censorship stop worrying so much about what other people think.

Like there are so many ways you can censor yourself when creating content and the real problem is that a lot of antis have convinced artists that self-censorship is part of the ongoing artistic/creative process and it's NOT. Internal reflection is certainly part of the process, but that is different from always wondering and being fearful about what outsiders & strangers think of your art.

Anti-censorship is anti-self-censorship too!

.

#mod erin #ask #just anti things #posted without comment #rape mention

[dvktheartist]

2023 Interpretation of Sauron, by DVK.

My goal with this piece was to capture the essence of both contemporary Zeitgeist and traditional elements, drawing inspiration from my deep admiration for Tolkien's universe. It provided the perfect canvas to showcase the quality of the upscaling method I've developed.

Originally, I had planned to depict Melkor, but since I had already done so in the past, I decided to explore the character of Sauron instead. Sauron, being Melkor's pupil and a central figure in the stories, offered a captivating challenge for my reinterpretation.

Tolkien's influence extends beyond his literary works, and his connection to Denmark has been on my mind lately. Fascinatingly, he had a strong affinity for Denmark and even included references to Danish places in his books. One notable example is Helm's Deep (featured in the second movie of the Fellowship Trilogy), which finds its roots in a real place in Denmark with a history of rebellion.

As an artist, I find myself intrigued by stories revolving around artists and their creative processes. Tolkien himself once held a competition for artists to visualize his work, which sparked my imagination. Drawing from his legacy, I embarked on my artistic journey of reinterpreting Sauron.

In this piece, I employed this upscaling method that I developed, utilizing both AI and GAN to breathe new life into the artwork. After the upscaling process, I dedicated numerous hours to meticulously paint in intricate details myself. This blend of technology and traditional craftsmanship allowed me to bring forth my vision of Sauron, encapsulating the spirit of the contemporary era while retaining the essence of Tolkien's timeless storytelling. Dropping on the new JOYN platform 7th August 2023.

#Sauron #Rings of power #LOTR #Tolkien #Digital art #Painting #Details #Upscaling #AI art #Process #Hand painting #DVK the artist

[straightplayshowdown]

The Wolves: The play chronicles six Saturday mornings in the lives of a soccer team somewhere in suburban America as they prepare for their games. The girls discuss everything from genocide to menstrual cycles to drugs to boys to literature to each other, and a group of girls whom at first seem indistinguishable as each is referred to by only her number and all are clad in the same jersey only bearing her number quickly become identifiable and different. In the course of six short weeks, the Wolves deal with love, loss, and identity in ways that real teenagers do.

Curious Incident of the Dog in the Nighttime: When the lights come up, a dead dog is seen onstage. It is immediately assumed that fifteen-year old Christopher Boone is responsible. He is innocent, however, and decides to investigate. Christopher has a unique mind that is phenomenal at math, but ill-equipped to understand everyday, ordinary life. His investigation (the details of which Christopher records in a book) leads him to discover not just who killed the dog, but secrets within his own family that turn his world upside down.

Propaganda under the cut!

The Wolves:

Such an accurate portrayal of what it means to be a teenage girl, interacting and competing with old and new friends alike.

Curious Incident of the Dog in the Nighttime: 

I have both read the book and watched the play and both are excellent, not just in story but in its depictions of autism as well. Back in highschool I choose to perform Curious Incident as a dramatic interpretation for speech and debate tournaments and I researched so many different productions and my favorite was a Chicago production that cast an autistic actor for the role Christopher that I based a lot of my acting choices on. It’s so real in its depictions in the character’s manner of speech, thought processes, movement, and the way other people (particularly Christopher’s father) treats him. I also adore the lighting and sound design of the show particularly when he gets to London and the sensory overload just attacks you- it is perfection. The set is also amazing too- it’s very minimal in a lot productions but only because the cast themselves play a lot of the set pieces, a decision that both creative and humorous (it adds a bit of levity to an otherwise pretty intense show). It’s an amazing adaptation with so many scenes that perfectly translated from page and stage and I cannot sing the praises of this play enough 

#polls #round 1 #the wolves #curious incident of the dog in the nighttime #the straight play showdown

[bellafemme]

Billboard interview.

Why Lana Del Rey Is Opening Up About Her Family on ‘Tunnel Under Ocean Blvd’

There is, in fact, a tunnel under Ocean Boulevard. Though a few online spectators suspected the tunnel, which inspired the name of Lana Del Rey’s album Did You Know That There’s a Tunnel Under Ocean Blvd, out March 24, might be located in Myrtle Beach, S.C., Del Rey recently revealed that the underground tunnel is actually in Long Beach, Calif. — not far from Los Angeles, where Del Rey has lived for the last six years.

The singer-songwriter’s use of SoCal iconography has been a cornerstone of her songwriting for over a decade, from Born To Die’s (2012) depictions to old Hollywood glamor to Norman Fucking Rockwell’s (2019) allusions to Venice Beach. While it’s present on her new project as well, Del Rey admits she is not quite as focused on “world building” as she once was, and instead is “living from the neck up,” focusing her craft on more lyrically driven and intimate songwriting.

Del Rey’s Tunnel Under Ocean Blvd discusses unrevealed details and stories about her “family of origin,” especially in songs like “Fingertips,” which she says “tells everything about everyone from day one.” Just weeks before its release, Del Rey – who is Billboard’s 2023 Women in Music Visionary honoree — talks about creating the album in her living room, and why she is ready to talk about her family.

How did your new album begin to take shape?

Mike Hermosa, who produced the majority of the songs on this album, would come over to my house, and I would hear him in my living room playing piano. He’s not even a musician full time. He’s a DP, a cameraman. I would hear him play, and I’d be like “can I record that?” or I’d sneakily record something. Eventually I asked if he could just keep playing, and I could sing. Then, every Sunday when he wasn’t working, he would just kind of noodle around, and I would sing. That’s how we wrote the first song: “Did You Know That There’s a Tunnel Under Ocean Blvd.” I knew right away that I really, really liked it. I enjoyed how casual writing with Mike was. He didn’t have a dog in the race. He wasn’t interested in anything beyond just playing. It’s fun that the entire album didn’t feel like we were making one until the end when Jack Antonoff came in and was like “I really like this. Can I put something on top of this?” When Jack comes in, you know you’re making a real record.

Do you feel this casual approach to songwriting was able to open you up creatively?

This process was almost like automatic singing. I just knew exactly every word to sing for everything he played because the chords were perfectly arranged. I think my overall feeling when writing this album was just, “wow, I got lucky.” Also, I realized that, even when I’m seeking so many other things in my life, music really seeks me. It’s like a little bird following me around. Somehow when I didn’t want to make music, I was presented with the best collaborators I’ve met. I just had them in my living room. I realized music is the one thing that constantly shows up for me, even when I’m looking for something else.

Since you were singing so automatically, as you put it, did you go back and edit, or did you leave it as is?

There was a lot of editing, because it was mostly a stream of consciousness, but every now and then I’ll have a complete song come to me fully formed. The song “Fingertips” I created in one sitting, voice memoed it, and sent it to [the producer and composer] Drew Erickson. He came back to me the next day with a full orchestra. Again, I just felt so lucky: lucky for the songs, lucky for these producers, lucky for the project.

You have Jack Antonoff coming back on this record. He’s worked on so many major albums in the last five years, including two of your own (Norman Fucking Rockwell and Chemtrails Over the Country Club). As someone who has worked with him so often, what’s his secret? Why does everyone want to work with him?

He can play anything on any instrument. He can fit the right instruments and melodies to any idea you’ve had. I think he plays something like 16 instruments. For us, it’s definitely very collaborative. I think probably out of any projects he’s worked on, he would say I give him the most direction. It’s funny because I recently heard all of his records he made from when he was in high school, and I still hear so much of what he’s done on Taylor [Swift]’s new record from that high school record. He’s just prolific. It’s absolutely wild to watch. That’s why it’s so fun because you really get to create any sound with him. He’s also a girl’s guy. He gets it!

He’s also a featured artist on the album too. How did that come about?

I was done with the album, and he came in for a couple days. We sat there, and I said, “let’s just play the piano.” I can make a song out of anything Jack plays. That’s actually how Norman got started too. He just plays and I just sing. He started playing something and then I was thinking about his fiancée [Margaret Qualley] who I just can’t live without! I love her. I started singing “he met Margaret on a rooftop / she was wearing white / and he was like / ‘I might be in trouble.’” I asked him what he thought we should say in the second verse because with him and Margaret it was a “when you know you know” situation. He had the idea to sing about what you should do when you don’t know. He started singing, and I told him he should just sing it on the record. It was really fun.

What overall themes did you try to capture in this record?

Family of origin is the overall theme. I think with Blue Banisters I wanted to capture this idea too, but I flew it under the radar. I was trying to address some criticisms that I had heard said after Chemtrials… mostly that people don’t know much about me. I didn’t promote that theme of Blue Banisters at all intentionally. In this album, I got to really finish my thoughts and get super specific, which I was not comfortable with completely before… I do list my grandpa, my brother, my dad, my Uncle Dave. In the song “Fingertips,” I sing “Charlie stop smoking / Caroline will you be with me / will the baby be alright? / Will I have one of mine?” I think I was able to open up about this because Mike was so casual to work with. All in my living room. It allowed for that. “Fingertips” tells everything about everyone from day one until now.

Are you nervous about being so forthcoming about your family in this record?

I was. I was so uncomfortable. Then, by the grace of God, I felt completely unburdened.

Your father, Rob Grant, is releasing an album on Decca Records on June 9, and you’ll be featured on two songs. Has he always been musical?

My dad has always played piano and he sang when he was younger with my uncle who’s a traveling organ player for Emmylou Harris and Buddy Guy. They wrote country records back in the day. I don’t know how and when it came to him. But I think he just decided he wanted to record it. And [my manager] played it for Decca Records, and they loved it. I’m not talkative when it comes to myself, but you will learn so much about me in hearing him. It gives so much context to the family.

How Lana Del Rey Became ‘Completely Unburdened’ For Her Most Personal Material Yet

Lana Del Rey practices "automatic singing." Using the improvisational songwriting technique, she lets her voice carry over accompaniments, not commandeering where her words or melodies take her, accepting all ideas she has in the moment and editing them later. Lately, her voice has led her home, back to memories of her childhood in Lake Placid, N.Y., and to ruminations on relationships with her family and the divergent paths they’ve taken. That subject underpins her upcoming ninth album, Did You Know That There’s a Tunnel Under Ocean Blvd (out March 24). Del Rey, 37, says she hesitantly began to unpack this subject matter with her previous album, Blue Banisters — but now, she’s ready to dig deeper. “At first I was so uncomfortable,” she says of the more personal material. “Then, by the grace of God, I just felt completely unburdened.” As a singer-songwriter, this year’s Visionary honoree has embodied that word for over a decade. Her 2012 major-label debut, Born To Die, made her a star and defined music’s Tumblr era, as a young Del Rey toyed with both the romantic and the darker sides of the American dream. Her “world building,” as she calls it now, for her early work created a collage of beautiful and disparate images, pairing hip-hop aesthetics with references to the Kennedy family, Elvis Presley with John Wayne, and old Hollywood glamour with biker gang grit.

Since then, Del Rey has pushed musical boundaries — seamlessly peppering an album with features from Stevie Nicks to Playboi Carti (2017’s Lust for Life), reworking a Sublime cover into a contemporary Billboard Hot 100 hit (2019’s “Doin’ Time”), for instance — while achieving both critical acclaim and commercial success. She has earned six Grammy nominations and holds the record for most No. 1s on Billboard’s Alternative Albums chart. And somehow, each week, it seems a new song from her vast catalog gains traction on TikTok. (“West Coast” and “How To Disappear” are two recent breakouts.) Younger artists often cite her as an inspiration — including Billie Eilish, whom Del Rey now calls “my girl. It makes me feel comforted that music is going in such a good direction.”

Since 2019, you’ve released four albums. Is it fair to say you have more creative energy than ever?

I think it might look like that! It’s funny because I keep telling people, “I haven’t worked in three years,” but really I just haven’t done shows in three years. As soon as I start getting ready for a show, that’s when it feels like work.

How has your process changed since Born To Die came out?

Eleven years ago I wanted it to be so good. Now, I just sing exactly what I’m thinking. I’m thinking a little less big and bombastic. Maybe at some point I can have fun creating a world again, but right now, I would say there’s no world building. This music is about thought processing. It’s very, very wordy. I’m definitely living from the neck up.

Can you remember what it felt like creatively when you were just starting out?

I think back to the beginning, being in New York. I would just go to a little deli by Grand Central and all you had to do to sit at the table for hours was buy a black coffee. I remember thinking, “I’m doing it. I’m living it.” It was all very thrilling. I was so psyched back then.

You recently featured on Taylor Swift’s “Snow on the Beach.” What was collaborating with her like?

Well, first of all, I had no idea I was the only feature [on that song]. Had I known, I would have sung the entire second verse like she wanted. My job as a feature on a big artist’s album is to make sure I help add to the production of the song, so I was more focused on the production. She was very adamant that she wanted me to be on the album, and I really liked that song. I thought it was nice to be able to bridge that world, since Jack [Antonoff] and I work together and so do Jack and Taylor.

Who do you consider to be a visionary?

Joan Baez. I sang with her recently. She gave me a challenge: She said, “Go down a little road and look for a left turn and find my house [in Northern California]. If you find it and can play ‘Diamonds and Rust’s’ high harmony, I’ll come to Berkeley with you and sing.” So my sister and I rented a car and searched for the house. I was very nervous. I don’t play guitar that well, but I learned the first three chords and sat across from her, [and when] we stopped playing, she was like, “Great, I’ll see you at Berkeley.” And another visionary to me is Cat Power. I had heard that she would run offstage when she wasn’t feeling it or just turn her back to the [audience] and keep playing. That’s when I knew I could probably do this.

#lana del rey

[tacticalhimbo]

Faith: The Unholy Trinity - Soundtrack Analysis

Hi Faith fandom! I forgot I had the soundtrack courtesy of Steam and I made some interesting discoveries! So I figured I'd share them here too, since:

I'm sure the more musically-inclined or historical nerd (/pos) fans can scrape even more from it

I know y'all are creative as hell, so hopefully I can fuel the flames... pun intended :3c

With that said, I'll toss my findings below the cut! I'll try to include the relevant audio files as well, though I'm not too sure how that all works here so I'll just...

DISCLAIMER: I do not own or claim to own the soundtracks provided on this post. All credits go to the composing artist(s), and to the development team of Faith: The Unholy Trinity.

I also hit a track limit... so I made sure to include the vital discoveries and include all mentioned titles!

There will be spoilers for Chapter 3, so reader discretion is advised.

I'll start us off with the titular discoveries.

The true ending (re: exorcising Amy, leaving with either Lisa or Father Garcia) theme is called It's Okay. The track is also something of a lullaby/harmony! There's a lot of callbacks happening in the track. Track below:

Gary's boss fight music is a remixed Revolutionary Etude, which was (allegedly) originally composed by Chopin around the time that Russia invaded Warsaw during the Polish uprisings. Track below:

Tiffany's boss theme is titled I am Beyond, very fitting considering her whole characterization stems from trying to surpass Amy (and perhaps even Gary) to earn the reverence she believes she's owed. Track below:

Side note: I am Beyond is easily my favorite soundtrack from the game. It's so unnerving.

And finally, the theme that plays when John is in the psychiatric ward (when the floating demonic face (belonging to Miriam) in Gary's Labyrinth captures him) is titled Not Here... which is just painful. Poor John. Track below:

Not relating to titles, but in the track that plays when fighting Super Miriam (re: Gary/Astaroth and Malphas possessing her corpse and spirit), you can hear Astaroth and Malphas being chanted in the background. The track's name is, fittingly, Super Miriam.

Similarly, in (what I assume is) the cult's theme, there is Latin chanting. If it weren't for my auditory processing issues, I'd provide what's being said. Alas, a bitch can't hear well enough to make it out. The track's name is Gary.

This next note is a bit more analytical, but Airdorf uses two compositions from Erik Satie's Trios Gnossiennes (more specifically, the first and the third; though not in order. The third is played before the first). I can't attach them here, sadly. I can, however, provide a bit of historical insight into the Trios Gnossiennes.

The track that plays in Chapter 2, during John's time at the church and cornfield, is Gnossiennes 3. The track that plays in Chapter 3, during John's time both outside of the clinic and the apartments, is Gnossiennes 1.

The Trios Gnossiennes were composed in the late 1800s and were entirely experimental compositions. We're talking no time signatures and a few other technical reworkings that couldn't classify them within existing compositional categories. In fact, Satie made up the term Gnossienne entirely.

Some scholars allege that the term drew inspiration from Satie's involvement in gnosis, or the (widely Hellenistic) belief that there's spiritual knowledge into humanity's real nature as divine. Within the Hellenistic era, gnosis was often used in reference to the occult, or "mystery cults" according to research.

Early symbols for gnosticism include a lion-faced, serpentine deity (potentially: Demiurge)... which is also of note considering Gary's demonic namesake, Astaroth, is often depicted as a serpentine (though more dragon-esque) deity.

On the other hand, some scholars attribute the word to the Cretan knossos (alt. gnossus), linking the published Trios Gnossiennes to the myth of Theseus, Ariadne, and the Minotaur (perhaps respectively? though it's not clear). While I'm failing to draw the parallels between the cornfield/church and the Minotaur, I can say that if the Gnossiennes are respectively attributed... The Theseus imagery for John is just... perfect. The whole concept of John's diminishing faith and the question of how much faith a man can lose before he is no longer faithful is... UGH. So good. And a very big question asked throughout Chapter 3.

To add onto this imagery... There's two very interesting track combinations that I feel could be expanded on!

First off, Gary's boss theme (re: Astaroth) and Malphas' theme are... strikingly similar in their composition. Same general vibe, with a weaving kind of interaction. There are parts that the two songs harmonize with one another, and then parts where they clash.

I've attempted to overlay the two tracks to illustrate this, though please note I am not an audio mixer ^^; Track below:

I think any symbolism here can be attributed to the fact that Gary (Astaroth) and his cult can summon Malphas to Earth. This, and the actual demonology surrounding Astaroth and Malphas.

Both Astaroth and Malphas are pretty significant figures. Both are said to be great leaders in Hell (Astaroth being a Grand Duke, Malphas being a "mighty Great President") who commanded legions of demons as a second in command to Satan.

From the research I conducted, it seems like they're almost one in the same? Astaroth is the more popular second in command, though Malphas makes his appearances in The Lesser Key of Solomon seemingly in Astaroth's place (re: the similarities within their roles).

Maybe this could signify some sort of rivalry? A battle for power while united under a common goal (re: The Second Death and the Profane Sabbath)? This could explain why Gary's demise is him being consumed (considering that Malphas is known for accepting sacrifices then deceiving the conjurer).

And secondly, the Unholy Trinity.

The Mother (The Clinic Demon), The Daughter (Tiffany), and the Unholy Spirit (Miriam/Miriam's Carved Face). These are the three demons needed to break the seals of the Crucible.

Respectively, their themes are: Mommy, I am Beyond, and Not Here.

Unfortunately, this one seems like a bit more of a stretch when overlaid in comparison to Astaroth and Malphas. Though I did find when removing Mommy from the lineup, there are a few sections where I am Beyond and Not Here do almost align... Though this one could be more coincidence than an intended effect.

Just for reference, though, I did include the trimmed and overlaid audio below:

To explain this mix, I removed the portions of I am Beyond that are a bit more... technical? The train-like sounds. I removed those and left the more unique (for a lack of better wording) sound bytes to mesh with Not Here. Again, maybe coincidence (or my ears deceiving me) or maybe not!

Woe, knowledge be upon ye! Feel free to ask any questions or add onto this! I'd love to see other interpretations of these things :3c

#txt #meta post #faith the unholy trinity #john ward #gary miller #miriam bell #faith chapter 3 #father garcia #faith airdorf #tiffany robinson

[reputayswift]

Can’t believe you’re the only other person on here going insane over whisper of the heart’s discussion of perfectionism and self doubt. I literally never felt more seen than in the film, only to think i was losing it when nobody on here was talking about it

Yes! I am SHOCKED it’s not more popular! I assume it’s because it’s lacking some of the more fantastical elements other Ghibli movies have? (I mean they made a whole sequel dedicated to the anthropomorphic cat bc audiences loved those parts so much :’)) Kiki’s Delivery Service gets a lot of (deserved) credit for its depiction of perfectionism and burnout but I think the mundanity of WOTH is what makes it REALLY hit for me. You have this character living in a very grounded, concrete world spending most of her days bouncing between school and her family’s cramped apartment and she’s trying to inject some whimsy into her life by believing in fate and fairytales and her dreams of being a writer but as she’s getting older she can’t escape the sinking feeling that these are just distractions from a life that will never live up to her expectations so when she finds the antique store, a real place that feels a little bit magic, she clings to it and the inspiration it brings her, some part of her believing that this is the key to escaping an ordinary life—just to have her parents tell her that taking the path less traveled comes with unique struggles and for Seiji’s grandpa to break it to her that writing is a long, arduous process BUT!! the need to revise is all part of the process and NOT an indication that she lacks talent or potential. 😩😮‍💨. The part that gets me the most is when she can’t STAND to be in the same room as the person reading her draft and when he tells her he’s finished she starts listing off all the flaws she sees in it herself because doing that feels like protecting yourself from the embarrassment of someone thinking you’re proud of your imperfect work. (But even then, hearing the actual critique feels devastating because there was some part of you that hoped you’d accidentally stumbled into greatness.) And you already saw my post about the whole gem metaphor and fearing that you’re lacking some inherent ability to be great/creative when the reality is that the people you admire also had an imperfect start!! It’s just so good…

#plus they play take me home country roads #whisper of the heart #tays takes #ask #asks #steelchopsticks #long post

[hollow-dweller]

talk shop Tuesday: what do you consider to be your personal brand

posting a single chapter of a wip and then disappearing for a year who said that

this is an interesting one to evaluate "from the inside", so to speak, but based on the feedback i get it's some combination of unique scenarios/unexpected twists on familiar scenarios, complicated relationships with a lot of interpersonal tension, and a predilection for denying closure/leaving things unresolved.

i love a trope inversion, and i find my creative process is most stimulated when i am given or come across a seed idea, and i think through the different ways that idea might come to fruition. i find inspiration in elaboration and exploration, as opposed to coming up with new concepts whole cloth.

the latter two tendencies are sort of part and parcel of one another: i love to complicate a relationship and then suggest, moreso than depict, closure/healing. thinking about something like some way of being human, or what's to come in we said our dreams will carry us--these are stories that are heavily driven by character conflict, and i think in real life that sort of interpersonal conflict never quite goes away--relationships only get more complicated as they progress, not less. that's the nature of love--it encompasses a universe of feelings and experiences, and those carry on even after the story ends.

#asks #talk shop tuesday