#literary analysis time

[shadowetienne]

... so I just went through and copied down the translated to English lyrics for beyOnd and am sort of sifting through them trying to gain more insight into the story being told. Fair warning, literary analysis time (based on the translation that they had in the translated captions).

“beyOnd” (English translation of lyrics)

My frozen lips are chapped My heart is just dried up Then a ray of light that is you shined on me And left behind like a small dew Like how today seems much different from today You take root in my heart It keeps being irritating It feels different

Hold my hand Dance with me Dance with me Not sure yet but Align your steps with me And dance with me

It’s not over there I know nothing beyond this In the air that has gotten cold I’ll warm up and melt your heart With my breath (1.1) Perhaps it’s withered

My eyes keep looking at you only Why are you making me feel anxious Why is the clock ticking so slowly I can’t express this with words very well Baby, I wanna make you mine (2.1)

  Dew on me flower   Like a flower blossoming on ice baby   Let yourself blossom in my heart please   Far over there flower   Hurry and let yourself blossom on me   Winter come again   Dew, dew, dew, dew flower   Fell in deep and have trouble getting out everyday   Which your, which your, which your, which your color   Will you let me see you   Flower flower, Oh winter, winter flower

The night can’t overshadow us Even when I cover my eyes I keep seeing you Your cold eyes swallow me Your scent makes me dizzy Drunk and getting drunk by your body scent (3) When you look at me The tip of my nose itches God bless (4)

Now please open your eyes to me Come lie down next to me And dream the same dream as me (5) When the winter comes, with my breath I’ll make you in full bloom (1.2) Perhaps it’s withered

My eyes keep looking at you only Why are you making me feel anxious I want to wind back the clock with my hand Because I want to see you even earlier Baby you can take my time (2.2)

  Dew on me flower   Like a flower blossoming on ice baby   Let yourself blossom in my heart please   Far over there flower   Hurry and let yourself blossom on me   Winter come again   Dew, dew, dew, dew flower   Fell in deep and have trouble getting out everyday   Which your, which your, which your, which your color   Will you let me see you   Flower flower, Oh winter, winter flower

Overall Lyrical Themes and Notes

Throughout the poem, the feelings that Nine is experiencing towards Mill and vice versa are being described as flowering plants. This immediately creates a reference to some of their other songs lyrically for me (”blOOm” and “blOssOm” are what are coming to mind, need to go look at those more closely). This flowering plant is specifically one existing in winter: harsh conditions that make it hard or unsafe for it to blossom/bloom. This is clearly relevant to the conditions that the characters are facing in high school where there is bullying over perceived sexuality. Nine is saying that he is coming into this situation with his heart flower dried up/withered, and meeting Mill causes his heart flower to take root again and start trying to grow and bloom.

(1) Breath and Growth

There are two sets of similar but different lyrics that reflect this. The first time it comes up, the lyrics say:

I’ll warm up and melt your heart With my breath (1.1)

At this point, nothing can grow because Mill is feeling too threatened/afraid to let anything grow. But by spending time together and getting close, Nine is helping him realize that it’s safe to be himself around Nine.

When the winter comes, with my breath I’ll make you in full bloom (1.2)

This is taking the idea further though, and moving towards the bloom of love in that heart flower that both of them seem to have. Nine’s breath, and the breath that they shared blowing out the candle and making the wish is what’s going to help Mill’s heart flower bloom.

(2) Time and Lyrical References

I think that this might be referencing “Time Leap” and possibly a few of their other songs in the last lines of these two line variations (someone help me out?).

Why is the clock ticking so slowly I can’t express this with words very well Baby, I wanna make you mine (2.1)

At the beginning of the lyrics, Nine still hasn’t solidified what he’s feeling and wanting to say and wanting to do, but he knows he wants Mill to be with him. The clock is ticking slowly, and it almost feels like the two of them are stalling, trying to figure themselves out.

I want to wind back the clock with my hand Because I want to see you even earlier Baby you can take my time (2.2)

This second variation is where it really reminds me of “Time Leap” and that idea of wanting to go back. But also, I feel like one of their earlier songs had the lyric “Baby we can take our time” and now we’re getting “Baby you can take my time.” (Which song is this???) It’s an interesting parallel.

(3) Connection to “byredO”

Nine used “byredO” as his remix song, and that’s always been his song, so I felt like this reference in the lyrics to scent and its effect was an interesting one showing how they are falling in love and tying it to the remix attached to it.

Your scent makes me dizzy Drunk and getting drunk by your body scent (3)

(4) Reference to the Description

Interestingly the description returns to that idea of “lovers who could not be blessed” and we have this usage of “God bless” in the lyrics.

The tip of my nose itches God bless (4)

I think that this line being lingered over in the delivery of the song is very important in that this is a song that is meant to be for those “lovers who could not be blessed” and it is in itself a blessing of their love.

(5) Hope and Wishes

In the previous arcs, hopes and wishes have been demonstrated on screen with paper cranes and how the protagonists interact with them, but there’s a change here to wishing on the candle and then also this line about dreams.

Come lie down next to me And dream the same dream as me (5)

While it feels like the hope of these characters is less tangible (the candle is a fleeting moment, even if captured on film), in the lyrics, during that candle scene, these lines are delivered, and they give a little preview of the end of the MV and song. We know that they are at least going to try to dream the same dream, and now, even with the hurt at the end, there is comfort and hope for the future.

Throughout, Nine and Mill’s flower hearts seem to be getting stronger and more resilient as winter flowers that are going to bloom despite the adversity, which mirrors the storyline shown in the MV. Mill catches Nine when he collapses, and this is what draws them together: being in the face of adversity. Mill doesn’t run away though, and Nine doesn’t break the promise that he made and comes to meet Mill. It’s not a hope of having no hardships, but a hope that being together will give them the strength and resilience to get past the hardships.

These lyrics match beautifully with the MV and the messages that OnlyOneOf has been conveying throughout this series. I’m really interested to see how it will transition into whatever they do next.

[berenshand]

one of my favourite little things about the murderbot diaries is how present all secunit's friends are even if they're not actually physically present. it doesn't do the annoying thing where it jumps through hoops to bring back characters that aren't really relevant to the narrative but it also doesn't do the other annoying thing where it pretends they never existed either. like secunit talks about art and mensah all the time even when art or mensah aren't in the book. it's clear how bharadwaj has impacted its personal growth even when she's literally on another planet. it complains about gurathin and pin-lee when they're not there. it's still sad about miki and don abene and it mentions tapan and maro and rami even though it only knew them for a few days (because when you're new at being a person every interaction with other people is important even if it's short). iris reminds it of mensah. iris also reminds it of ratthi. its hair is fluffy bc it let amena play hairdresser off-screen and it messages her so she knows it's okay. it doesn't have to worry about protecting volescu anymore because volescu retired thank goodness. it's still using thiago's language module. etc etc etc

it's such good writing because it's such a little thing that gives the characterization and relationships greater depth and also reinforces the running theme of friendship in the series and then also subtly gives this sense of 'the people you love are a part of you/your story' and also reinforces secunit's role as a storyteller because it's constantly telling little stories about all its friends.

[flowercrowngods]

who did this to you. part 3

🤍🌷 read part 1 here | read part 2 here pre-s4, steve whump, protective (but scared) eddie. now with robin!

The number rings in his head, echoing off the inside of his skull and sinking lower and lower until his heart strings join the symphony that leaves him shaking as the memory of Harrington’s slurred voice is drowned out by the dial tone that feels harrowingly like a flatline right now. 

Said I’ll go blind. Or deaf. Or just… die.

Eddie doesn’t really feel like his body belongs to him anymore, or like there’s anything left inside him other than panic and fear and that stupid, stupid shaking that he can’t suppress even as he bites his knuckles. Hard. 

The pain helps a little not to startle too much when the dial tone stops and a female voice begins speaking to him. Still he almost drops the phone, cursing under his breath as he pulls his hair to collect himself and get his voice to work. 

“H— Hi, hello, Mrs Buckley? This is, uh. I. I’m. A friend of Robin’s, could you, uh—“ 

“Oh, of course, dear,” the woman says, and Eddie feels his eyes beginning to prick with how nice she sounds even through the phone. 

Does she know Steve, too? Would she worry if she knew? Would she curse Eddie for not taking him to the hospital right away? Would she blame him if anything happened? 

“I’m sorry? What did you say your name was?” she asks, repeating herself by the sound of it. 

He blanks, for a whole five seconds, before he spots a note stuck to the fridge saying Don’t forget to eat, Eddie :-)

“Eddie,” he croaks. “Uh, Eddie Munson.”

“Alright, Eddie Munson, I’ll see if I can grab Robin for you. You have a good day, dear, yes?” 

No. “Thanks.” 

The hand clenched in his hair pulls tighter and tighter until the tears fall and he can pretend it’s from pain and not from— whatever the fuck is happening. 

He waits, phone pressed to his ear with a kind of desperation he’s never really felt, and never wants to feel again. He doesn’t even know what to tell Robin; what to say. It’s not like they ever hang out or have anything to say to each other, so why would she— 

“Munson?” Robin’s voice appears on the other end, a little too loud for Eddie’s certain state, and he does drop the phone this time, scrambling to catch it and only making the situation worse as it dangles by his knees. 

He drops to the floor, pulling his knees to his chest and reaching for the phone again. 

“Hi.” 

“What do you want? How’d you even get this number? I swear, if you—“ 

“It’s Blue. I mean, Steve. Harrington.” 

That shuts her right up, and Eddie clenches his eyes shut for a moment, hoping to keep the tremor out of his voice if only he takes a moment to breathe. 

The moment stretches. And Robin’s voice is wary and quiet when she speaks again. 

“What about Steve.” 

Eddie rubs his face, leaving more dirt and grime to fill the tear tracks, and clenches his fist before his mouth. 

“Eddie,” Robin demands, dangerous now. Nothing left of the rambling, bubbling mess he knows her to be on the school hallways. “What. About. Steve.” 

“He… He’s hurt.” 

There’s a bit of a commotion on the other end, before Robin declares, “I’m coming over. You tell me everything.” 

“You— I mean, he’s in the hospital with my uncle, so—“ 

“I am. Coming. Over,” she says, enunciating every word as though she were making a threat. Maybe she is. But the certainty in her voice helps a little, anchors him the same way that Wayne’s calmness did. “And you tell me everything.” 

Eddie finds himself nodding along, knowing intuitively that there is nothing that could stop her now. Knowing that he doesn’t want to stop her. 

“‘Kay.” It’s a pathetic little sound, all choked up and tiny. She doesn’t comment on it. 

One second he hears her determined exhale, the next she’s hung up on him and Eddie is greeted by the flatline again. He lets out a shuddering breath and leans his head back against the wall. 

Breathing is hard again, but it’s all he has to do now, all that’s left to do, so he focuses. Inhale. Hold. Exhale. Hold. His lungs are burning and there’s something wrong about the way he pulls in air and keeps it there, desperately latching onto it until the very last second, his exhales more of a gasping cough than calm and controlled. 

It takes a while. Longer than it should. But with Harrington’s blood still on his hands, with his heartbeat in his ears so loud he can’t even hear the words Wayne used to say about breathing in through the mouth or the nose or… or something, he— 

He’s fine. He’s home. Wayne’s got Blue, and Buckley is on her way, and… He’s fine. 

People don’t just die. 

They don’t. 

He’s fine. 

Eventually, Eddie manages to breathe steadily, the air no longer shuddering and his hands no longer shaking. It’s stupid, really, being so worked up over someone he doesn’t even really know. Sure, everyone knows Steve fucking Harrington, and everyone sees Steve fucking Harrington — whether they want it or not. He has a way of drawing eyes toward him even if all he does is walk the halls with his dorky smile and that stupidly charming swagger he’s got going on. Always matching his shoes to his outfit.

Eddie can relate.

Always reaching out to touch the person he’s talking to; clapping their back or shoulder, lightly shoving them in jest, ruffling their hair or chasing them through the halls, moving and holding himself like teenage angst can’t reach him. Like he belongs wherever he goes. Like he’s so, so comfortable in his own skin. Like the clothes he wears aren’t armour but just a part of him; a means of self-expression. 

Again, Eddie can relate. He can relate to all of this. 

It’s almost like the two of them aren’t so different after all. Just going about it differently. 

And now he’s… Bleeding. Slurring his speech. Wheezing his breath. And Eddie feels protective. Eddie feels responsible. Like he should be there, like he should get to know more about him. About Steve. About Blue. 

But he can’t. And he won’t. So he gets up with a groan that expresses his frustration and the need to make a sound, to fight the oppressive silence that only encourages his thoughts to run in obsessive little circles, and he hangs up the phone that’s been dangling beside him all this time. 

He needs a smoke. 

He needs a smoke and a blunt and a drink and for this day to be over and for time to revert and to leave him out of whatever business he stumbled into by opening the door to the boathouse and, apparently, Steve Harrington’s life. 

But unfortunately, the universe doesn’t seem to care about what he needs, because just as he steps outside and goes to light his cig, he catches sight of a harried looking Robin Buckley, standing on the pedals of her bike as she kicks them, her hair blowing in the wind to reveal a frown between her brows. A wave of unease overcomes Eddie, an unease he can’t really place. Maybe it’s the set of her jaw, or the tension in her shoulders, or maybe it’s the worry and anger she exudes. 

It never occurred to him before that Robin Buckley might not be a person you’d want to set off. And not because of her uncontrollable rambles. 

“Munson!” she calls over, carelessly dropping her bike in the driveway and stalking toward him. 

Almost as if summoning a shield, Eddie does light the cigarette. Pretends like the smoke can protect him. 

She doesn’t stop at the foot of the steps, though, climbs them in two leaps and gets all up in his space with that unwavering look of determination — so unwavering, in fact, that it almost looks like wrath. Cold. Eddie wants to shrink away from it, not at all daring to wonder what could make her look like that upon hearing that Steve’s hurt. 

I don’t wanna die, Munson. I never… I didn’t. With the monsters or the torture.

But those are the words of a semi-conscious teenage boy beat to a pulp, they can’t— There’s no way. Eddie misheard him, or Steve was talking about some kind of inside joke, using the wrong terminology with the wrong guy. It happens. It happens when you’re out of it, really! The shit he’s said when he was shot up, canned up, all strung out and high as a kite… He’d be talking of monsters, too, and mean some benign shit. 

But the way Harrington looked, none of that was benign. The bruising all over his face, the blood still dripping from the wound by his temple or his nose, the way he held himself, breath rattling in his lungs, or— 

“Hey!” Buckley demands his attention, giving him a light shove; just enough to catch his attention, really, and just what he needed to snap out of it. Still the smoke hits his lungs wrong and he coughs up a lung, further cementing his role of the pathetic little guy today. 

“Hey,” he says lamely, his voice still croaking as he crushes the half-smoked cigarette under his boot. “Sorry.” He doesn’t know for what. But it feels appropriate. 

She shakes her head, rolling her eyes at him as she crosses her arms in front of her chest. 

“Tell me,” she says at last, and even though there is a tremor in her voice, she sounds nothing short of demanding. “I want the whole story, and I want it now.” 

And so he does. He tells her everything, bidding her inside because he needs the relative safety of the trailer even though the air in here is stuffy and still faintly smells blue. He pours them both some coffee and some tea, because asking what she wants doesn’t feel right in the middle of telling her how he found her supposed best friend beat to shit in the boathouse he went to to forget about the world for a while. 

She stills as she listens to him, staring ahead into the middle distance somewhere beneath the floor and the walls, her hands wrapped around the steaming mug of coffee. Eddie stumbles over his words a lot, unsettled by her stillness, her lack of reaction. She doesn’t even react to his fuck-ups. People usually do.

He wants to ask. Where are you right now? What have you seen? What’s on your mind? What the fuck is happening?

But he doesn’t ask, instead he tells her more about Steve. About how he seemed to forget where he was. About the pain he was in. About the smiles nonetheless. The way he reassured Eddie. 

That one finally gets a choked little huff from her, somewhere between a sob and a laugh. 

“Yeah, that sounds like him alright. He’s such a dingus.” 

There is so much affection in her voice as she says it that Eddie can’t help but smile into his mug. 

“Dingus?” he asks, hoping for some lightness, hoping to keep it. 

But the light fades, and her eyes get distant again. Eddie wants to kick himself. 

“Just a stupid little nickname. An insult, really.”

“Oh.” He doesn’t know what to do with that. If he should ask more or if he should say that he has a feeling Steve might appreciate stupid little nicknames. Especially if they’re unique. Especially if they’re for him. But what right does he have to say that now? What knowledge does he have about Steve Harrington that Robin doesn’t? 

So he bites his tongue and drinks his coffee, cursing the silence that falls over them as Robin mirrors him, albeit slow and stilted, like she doesn’t know what to do either. Or where to put her limbs. 

“Wayne’s got him now. I took him here, after the boathouse, because I didn’t know what to do. He said he didn’t want the hospital, said there’s…” He trails off. 

Robin looks at him, her eyes wary but alert. “Said there’s what?” 

It’s stupid. Don’t say it. 

“Eddie?” 

With a sigh, he puts his mug on the counter and stuffs his hands into his pockets. “He said there’s monsters. In the hospital, I mean. He said that.”

Instead of scoffing or at least frowning, Robin clenches her jaw and nods imperceptibly, her eyes going distant again. Eddie blinks, the urge to just fucking ask overcoming him again, but with every passing second he realises that he doesn’t actually want to ask. He doesn’t want to know, let alone find out. 

He just… He just wants to go to bed. Forget any of this ever happened. But he can’t do that, so he continues. 

“Brought him here and Wayne took one look at him and convinced him he needed a doctor. And, Jesus H Christ, he was right. I’ve never… I mean, those things don’t happen,” he urges, balling his hands into fists even in the confined space of his pockets. “Right? I mean… Shit, man.” He bumps his shoe into the kitchen counter; gently, so as not to startle Buckley out of her fugue like state. 

“You’d be surprised,” she rasps, staring into the middle distance again and slowly sinking to the floor. There is a tremor in her shoulders now, barely noticeable, but Eddie knows where to look. Without really thinking about it, he grabs two of his hoodies he’d haphazardly thrown over the kitchen chairs this morning while deciding on his outfit and realising that it was altogether too warm for long sleeves today. But now, right here in this kitchen, the air tinged with blue, they’re both freezing. 

Because fear and worry will take all the warmth right from inside of you and leave you freezing even on the hottest day of the year. 

She barely looks at him when he holds out his all-black Iron Maiden hoodie to her, freshly washed and all that, but she takes it nonetheless, immediately pulling it on. It’s way too large on her, her hands not showing through the sleeves, her balled fists safe and warm inside the fabric. It would make him smile if only it didn’t highlight her stillness, her faraway stare, and the years he has on her. She’s, what, two years younger than him? Three? 

It seems surreal. Everything, everything does. 

Robin Buckley in his home, sitting on his kitchen floor, swallowed by a hoodie that is a size too large even for him, but it was the last one they had in the store and he doesn’t mind oversized clothes, can just cut them shorter when the need arises or layer them or declare them comfort sweaters for when he wants to just have his hands not slip through the sleeves on some days. And now Robin is wearing his comfort hoodie because her best friend was bleeding in his car earlier and then on his couch and now in his uncle’s car, and they never even talk, but he knows that Robin’s favourite colour is blue, but not morning hour blue because that makes her sad; only deep, dark blues. 

Her favourite colour. Her favourite person. 

It’s so fucking surreal. 

He drops down beside her, leaving enough space between them so neither of them feels caged, and mirrors her position: knees to his chest, chin on his forearms. Staring ahead. 

And silence reigns. 

“Your uncle,” she says at last, finally breaking the silence that’s been grating on Eddie’s nerves and looking at him, really looking as she rests her cheek on her forearms crossed over her knees. “Tell me about him.” 

There is a gentleness to her voice now despite how hoarse it is. Maybe she’s just tired, too. And scared. At least the shivering has stopped. 

Still Eddie frowns, confused as to why she should be breaking the silence to ask about Wayne when everything today has been about Harrington. About Steve. About deep and dark blues. 

“Uncle Wayne?” he asks. “Why?”

“Because,” she begins, and sighs deeply, works to get the air back in her lungs. Eddie wants to reach out, but instead he just clenches his fingers a little deeper into the fabric of his hoodie. “My best friend is hurt very badly and the only person with him is your uncle, and I need to know that he’s in good hands. Or I swear to whatever god you may or may not believe in, and granted, it’s probably the latter, but still I swear I’ll give into my arsonist tendencies and burn down this city, starting with your trailer if you don’t tell me that your uncle is a good man who will do anything in his power to make sure that boy gets the help and care he needs. And deserves.” 

Her jaw is set and her bottom lip trembles, but it doesn’t take away from the absolute sincerity in her threat. 

“So, please,” she continues, her voice breaking just a little bit. “Tell me. Tell me about your uncle.” 

Tell me about your favourite person. 

Eddie swallows, and mirrors her position once more, so she can see his eyes and know he’s sincere. Because he’s learned something about eyes today, about how much in the world can change if only you have a pair of eyes to look into. 

And he nods, looking for somewhere to start. “He’s the best man I know. He’s the best man you’ll ever meet.”

She clings to his eyes. Searches them for the truth, beseeching them not to lie. He lets her. 

“Took me in when I was ten, because my dad’s a fuck-up and my mom’s a goner. Took me in again when I was twelve after I ran away. Makes me breakfast and I pretends the dinner I make him is more than edible.” He smiles a little, because how could he not? “He’s my uncle, but still he’s the best parent anyone could wish for. Writes those little notes that he sticks to the fridge, y’know, the one with the smiley face? Tells me to eat, because I forget sometimes. I tell him to drink water, because he forgets. First few years, he’d read to me. And the man’s a shit reader, has some kind of disability I think, and at some point I learned that he wasn’t reading at all. He was telling me stories all the time, conning me into thinking that the books were magic, and that every time I’d try to read the book for myself, the story would change.” 

There’s a lump in his throat now, and his eyes sting again. But Robin doesn’t seem to fare any better than him if her wavering smile is any indication. 

“There’s no one,” Eddie continues, “who will make you believe in magic quite like uncle Wayne. Or in good things. And d’you wanna know what he told Blue when he said he was scared of going to the hospital?” 

Sniffling, Robin shakes her head. 

“He said, Okay. Then we do it scared. And all of that after he just… with that patience he has, told him everything that was gonna happen. And that he’d be there with him through it all. That he knew the doc and wouldn’t let anyone else near him, and that there’s no need to be scared at all.” 

He sighs, breathes, stills. Swallows, before looking back at Robin. 

“So, if there’s one person who’ll make sure that boy gets the help and care he needs and deserves…” 

“It’s uncle Wayne,” Robin finishes his sentence, her voice still hoarse, but Eddie likes to think it’s for a different reason now. 

“It’s uncle Wayne,” Eddie says, nodding along as he does. 

There is something like understanding in Robin’s eyes now, and Eddie hopes it’s enough. Enough to calm the spiking of her nerves, enough to settle the coil of freezing nausea that must reside in the pit of her stomach, enough to let the next breath she takes feel a little more like it’s supposed to be there. 

He wants to say something more, wants to reach out and reassure her that everything will be okay, but he can’t know that. He doesn’t feel like it’s entirely true, let alone appropriate right now. 

There’s something in Robin’s eyes, in the way she holds herself, like she’s waiting for the other shoe to drop. Like she accepts his words at face value but doesn’t really believe them. Like she’ll only rest when she’s got her best friend back in her arms and hears the story — the whole story — from him. 

And Eddie doesn’t fault her, because the thing is, he doesn’t know what happened. Steve said that Hagan came at him, but that’s really all he got out of him before he started talking about death and shit, and Eddie really didn’t want to ask any more questions then. 

So they sit there for a while, the silence oppressive and unwelcome, clumsy and awkward; Robin’s mouth opening and closing a lot, like she wants to ask questions but doesn’t dare to ask them — and Eddie doesn’t know if he’s glad about it or not. Doesn’t know if he wants to hear the kind of questions asked with that kind of stare. 

It is only after a long while, when Robin’s shoulders start shaking again and she buries deeper into the hoodie and her own spiralling thoughts, that Eddie breaks the silence again, replaying in his head the last moment between him and Steve. 

“He’s not gonna break,” he tells her, aiming for gentle and reassuring. 

What he doesn’t expect is the minute flinch, the jolt shooting through her body and the pained expression it leaves her with. What he doesn’t expect is what she says next. 

“You know,” she begins, her voice as far away as her eyes, and it’s like she doesn’t even know she’s speaking. “Sometimes I wish he would.” 

What?

Eddie blinks, swallowing hard.

“Just for, just for a break. Just so he can rest. Let the rest take over for a while.” 

That… He doesn’t— What the hell does that even mean? 

“Like maybe then the world would… snap back.” She snaps her fingers, just once. This time it’s Eddie who flinches. “And everything bad would disappear. But it won’t. And he won’t.” She swallows. Then quietly, almost inaudible, “He won’t break.” 

And the way she says it… It was reassuring before. And now it feels like a burden. A curse. 

Who the fuck are you, Steve Harrington? And you, Robin Buckley. 

Eddie shudders, knowing he doesn’t want the answer to that anymore. He doesn’t want the questions either. So he buries his face in his hands, closes his eyes, and breathes. The adrenaline has worn off by now, the repeated panicking that added fuse to the fire has ceased now, leaving him worn out and strung out, tired and exhausted. He pulls up the hood, burrowing into the warmth. 

And then he stills. His usually twitching, fumbling, fiddling body falling entirely still beside Buckley. 

It’s like time stops for a while there, even though Eddie knows that it’s dragging ever on and on. He’s inclined to let it, though. He’s too tired, too exhausted to really care about what time may or may not be doing. 

“Why’d you call me?” 

It takes a while for Eddie to realise that Robin’s spoken again, asked him a question out loud, the cadence of it different to the endless circles of questions Eddie’s got stuck in his head since the early afternoon tinged in blue against crimson. 

He lifts his head, tucking his hands underneath his chin, and looks over at Buckley. Her hair is dishevelled now, her mascara smudged and crusty. Her lipstick is almost all gone, with the way he sees her biting and chewing on her lips. 

“I… It seemed like the right thing to do, y’know? He kept repeating your number. In the car, it was like… Sounds dramatic, but it was like his lifeline, almost. Repeated it so often it kinda got stuck.” He shrugs. “Seemed important, too.”

Robin frowns; a careful little thing. “How’d you know it was me?”

“Well, he just talked about you. Y’know. Tell me about your favourite person, I told him, because that’s the thing you gotta do to keep people, like, talking to you. Not shit about what day it is, or what. Just, y’know. Let them talk about things they like. Things they’ll wanna tell you about. ’N’ he talked about you.” 

She’s quiet for a while, letting his words sink in. And Eddie wonders if she knew. That she’s his favourite person. If he ever told her. If maybe he took that from him now. It’s a stupid thing to worry about, really; the boy was bloodied and bruised on his couch just an hour ago, there are worse things at hand for Eddie to worry about. But now he wonders if he just spilled some sort of secret. Some sort of love confession. 

“Did you, I mean… Are you guys, like, dating? Did I just steal his moment?” 

Robin huffs, but it’s more like a smile that needs a little more space in the room, a little more air to really bloom. It’s fond. She shakes her head, her eyes far away again, but closer somehow. 

“Nah,” she says, and the smile is in her voice, too. Eddie kind of likes her voice like that. “We’re platonic. Which is something I’d never thought I’d say. Not about Steve Harrington, y’know?” 

And the way she drags out his name… Eddie can relate. Like it means something, but like what it means is nowhere close to reality. Nowhere close to what it really means. Nowhere close to Blue. 

Robin sighs, the sound more gentle than it should be, and leans her head against the cabinet behind her. “We worked together over summer break. Scoops Ahoy.” Her voice does a funny thing, and her eyes glaze over as she pauses. Eddie waits, his lips tipped up into a little smile, too; to match hers. 

“What, the ice cream parlour?” 

Robin hums, her smile widening at what Eddie guesses must be memories of chaos and ridiculousness. “I wanted to hate him,” she continues. “But try as I might, he wouldn’t let me. Or, he did. He did let me. Just, it turns out, there’s no use hating Steve Harrington, not when he’s so… So endlessly genuine. There’s nothing to hate, y’know? And then he…” 

She stops, her mouth clicking shut as her eyes tear up a little. The Starcourt fire. Eddie remembers the news, remembers the self-satisfied smirk when he’d heard about it, remembers sticking it to the Man and to capitalism and to the idea of malls over supporting your friendly neighbourhood businesses. 

Guilt and shame overcome him as he realises that they must have been in there when it happened. 

“He saved your life?” 

Robin’s eyes snap toward him, wide and caught, and Eddie raises his hands in placation. 

“In the fire? Were you there?” 

“Y—yeah.” She swallows hard, avoiding his eyes. “The fire. He saved me. Yeah.” 

Eddie nods, deciding to drop that topic right there; to lay it on the ground as gently as he can and cover it with bright red colours so he never steps on it ever again. 

“He must be your favourite person, too, then, hm?” he steers the conversation back away into safer waters. 

“He is,” she says, sure and genuine and true. “It’s just. I don’t think I’ve ever been anyone’s favourite. He has a lot of people who care about him, you know? A lot of people he cares about. Even more numbers memorised in that stupidly smart head of his.” She huffs again, burrowing deeper into Eddie’s hoodie, pulling the sleeves over her hands some more. “It’s stupid, to be so hung up on this. Is it stupid?” 

“I don’t think it is,” Eddie says, scooting a little closer to Robin. “Like, I don’t even know that boy, right? But even I know that he’s got some ways to shift your focus or something. Give you a silver lining, or something to take the pain away even when he’s the one who… I don’t know, that’s probably stupid, too.” 

“Nah,” Robin says, scooting closer to him, too, until their sides are pressed together and she can lay her head on his shoulder. “It’s not stupid. You’re right; that’s Steve for you. ’S just who he is.” 

It is, isn’t it? 

You’re so blue, Stevie. 

She’ll say something corny when, when you ask her, jus’ to fuck with you. Sunset gold or rose, jus’ to mess with… But is blue.

Blue. ‘S nice. 

Yeah. Yeah, he is. 

Eddie lets his thoughts roam the endless possibilities and realities that is Steve Harrington, the depths he hides — or won’t hide, maybe, if you know how to ask. Where to look. 

Maybe he’ll find out, one of these days. Not about the terrible things that leave him scared of the hospital, not about the horrible things that have him speaking of death and dying like he’s accepted them as a possibility a long time ago. 

He swallows hard and shakes off these thoughts, because things like that just. They don’t happen. They don’t happen to blue-smiled boys who trust you to be kind even when they’re beaten straight to hell. And they sure as hell don’t happen when uncle Wayne’s around. 

Nothing bad has ever happened when uncle Wayne was around. 

And he wants to tell Robin, wants to make that promise. But part of him can’t bear the thought of being wrong. So he keeps his mouth shut and just sits with her, their heads as heavy as their hearts as they wait. 

The sun is long gone when the phone above him rings again, spooking and startling them out of their timeless existence. 

“Yeah?” he answers, his heart hammering in his chest. “Wayne?” 

“Hey, Ed,” Wayne’s voice comes through the phone like a melody. Calm and steady. Robin is scooting closer, and Eddie shifts the phone to accommodate her so they can both listen. Somehow, they ended up holding hands — and holding on hard. “We’re coming home now.” 

🤍🌷 tagging:

@theshippirate22 @mentallyundone @ledleaf @imfinereallyy @itsall-taken @simply-shin @romanticdestruction @temptingfatetakingnames @stevesbipanic @steddie-island @estrellami-1 @jackiemonroe5512 @emofratboy @writing-kiki @steviesummer @devondespresso @swimmingbirdrunningrock @dodger-chan @tellatoast @inkjette @weirdandabsurd42 @annabanannabeth @deany-baby @mc-i-r @mugloversonly @viridianphtalo @nightmareglitter @jamieweasley13 @copingmechanizm @marklee-blackmore @sirsnacksalot @justrandomfandomstm @hairdryerducks @silenzioperso @newtstabber @fantrash @zaddipax @cometsandstardust @rowanshadow26 @limpingpenguin @finntheehumaneater @extra-transitional (sorry if i missed anyone! lmk if you don't wanna be tagged for part 4 🫶)

[anywayxstarchild]

mustique demo came up on shuffle again and i've had my head in my hands for the past hour because truly what was this insanity. why does noel sing his song with a completely different set of pronouns than what he made liam finally sing? and i'm not even thinking about the lock all the doors lore right now. i'm just speechless because truly... whose confession am i listening to? i need to study noel's brain so bad jfc he was so insane for this. i'll never get over this song.

[summoningspark]

so i may or may not have printed out the entirety of @anonymousalchemist's amazing fic like a bird, like a stone onto three Very Large pieces of paper.

you might be asking, why, fay? why did you print out an entire 53k fic for a video game you've never played? well you see, if you read it, you would understand.

[glasscupsss]

right…….bc azriel did not want to *canonically* eat tf out of elains pussy……..that’s not canon at all🎅

or when he saved her from hybern🙄

or when he gave her tt🤨

or when he took the potatoes from her and made everyone wait for her to sit🤮

or when she made him blush😨

or the multiple times he is the only one to express concern for her well being😒

or when they got each other meaningful gifts for solstice😠

or the fact they were both the last people to hold nyx in acosf (i promise you guys that is significant, i’m an english major trust me)😟

or when feyre literally said they would look good together😃

or when she said azriel might suit elain’s needs better than lucien😰

or when nesta found out his secret🥱

no, none of that is canon at all🤯

[drieddpetals]

(i feel like analyzing stuff again so here we go) kaz is smart because he knows people. he loves puzzles, loves locks, loves taking things apart to figure out how they work. he says in soc that you figure people out like you figure anything else out, by taking it apart. kaz is smart because he finds enough out about people to make assumptions.

he knows what people will do, and often times it leaves the ones being duped going "how did he do that? how did he know?" kaz never truely knows something will 100% happen, he's just assuming it will and is almost always right.

in the begining of soc, when the crows are breaking matthias out of hellgate, kaz assumes wrong, though. he knows that jesper has a reputation for being late, so he assumes that jesper will take to the task of releasing the animals like he will anything else he does, and be late doing it. he has, in some sense, taken jesper apart. he knows what jesper does, and he plans around this assumption, however ends up being wrong. nothing extremely consequential happens because of his assumption, but it proves that kaz will assume things with confidence.

a huge aspect to why kaz is so successful in his planning and overall schemes is because he knows how to make a good assumption. he has inej gathering him intel, which enables him to make such confident and correct guesses about how people will act.

one instance of kaz's assumptions being correct is the whole geels and 19 burstraat situation in the beginning of soc. when kaz threatens to burn down geels' lover's home, geels could have not cared, could have shot kaz right there, but he didn't. geels doesn't, and kaz continues very boldly facing him. why? because kaz knows how geels will act.

another instance is in ck when kaz kidnaps alys and uses her to get inej back. at this point, kaz knows how van eck will act. van eck has already duped kaz once, and i imagine after this one of the things kaz does to insure it never happens again is over analyzing and taking him apart. it works in this instance, because kaz has already seen how much van eck cares about a "worthy heir," and alys is literally holding that. kaz has taken van eck apart, and had figured him out enough to make a bold and correct act based on assumption.

all this to say, kaz thinks and thinks and thinks and is always thinking and picking everything apart, and that is the key to why he can get away with everything he does. and maybe one day his assumptions that make him so smart will fail him, and maybe one day they'll be fatally wrong.

[icemankazansky]

I am BEGGING (some of) you to learn what a literary foil is:

Examples:

Thank you for coming to my TED Talk.

[gay-poet-gabriel]

i will never,,,. EVER stop thinking about the scene where pony and johnny were talking about cutting and bleaching their hair an stuff and they talk about all the ways the justice system tries to break them, their hair going first

crying

also as much as this scene makes me feel things its also REALLY FUNNY LMAOOOOOOO

[captaincouture]

Ok Captive Prince fandom I’ve got some food for thought for ya.

Why did the regent take so long to start offing members of the royal family so he could be king?

We don’t know his actual age but we know he’s at least younger than Aleron and if I remember Damen’s description correctly, he is starting to grey.

We assume he’s wanted more power for at least most, if not all his life. So unless there was a trigger during Laurent’s youth that made him start actively planning his family’s demise, why wait so long?

There would have been a time before both Auguste and Laurent were born where only Aleron and Hennike would’ve been in his way, so why not poison Hennike earlier and orchestrate an assassination for Aleron?

It seems like Vere and Akielos were on somewhat stable terms before the alliance with Kempt fell apart, or at least both had enough incentives to not outright attack each other. So it makes me think that maybe the regent was not as much of a prominent or trusted figure in Veretian politics while Aleron was alive. Did Aleron know how terrible of a person he was and keep him at bay? Did the whole court know? Did Auguste? Is that part of the reason he was so protective of Laurent, because he knew about a very real danger very close to them?

So maybe the Regent needed the time between Aleron and Auguste’s deaths and Laurent’s coronation to solidify his position in the court as an influential leader because he didn’t have that power before. He had to wait until there was a “buffer time” to make his move because there was no smooth transition of power from Aleron or even Auguste’s court to it becoming his. And with Laurent too young to rule and too traumatized and not well respected by the court to be of any influence, he had to change the ways of the court to gain power.

Laurent and other characters mention multiple times that the regents court was very different from Alerons. I think because the regent is such a narcissist and unable to change, he had to change the ways and the culture of the court in order for them to accept him.

Even throughout the first book we see him fighting Laurent for supporters, though it’s widely agreed that Laurent is losing miserably, it’s still a battle the regent has to fight. We also know that most people who are loyal or sympathetic to Laurent are that way because of Auguste, or because they believe in passing the crown to the “rightful king”. It’s been 6 years since Aleron and Auguste’s death at this point, is that not enough to win the whole court over? Apparently not.

Especially with as cunning and convincing as we know the regent to be, it should have been easy for him to gain favor and power in court and let a tragic accident happen to Laurent and be done with it. He could’ve easily outmaneuvered Akielos and ruled two kingdoms (as was his end goal) later on after taking Vere.

As much as we all love to hate on the Veretian court and talk about how perverse and depraved they are, it seems like they were the reason the regent was put off of having power for so long. Laurent was certainly in no state to be opposing him as a freshly traumatized child. So even if they eventually turned a blind eye to sexual assault and underage abuse, they still held off the regent long enough for Laurent to get old enough to start fighting back, which ultimately made all the difference in giving him the time to go on his journey with Damen and get his kingdom back.

We see this loyalty to the “rightful heir” in Akielos too, with Akielons widely favoring Damen over Kastor. Despite bastardy being much less stigmatized in Akielos and Kastor being an accomplished and respected military leader, there are still many people who oppose Kastors rule even with Damen presumed dead.

So ya know, just a little shoutout to the courts and common people in Captive Prince, who made it that much harder for the wrong people to get their hands on power, so that the rightful heirs had the time and opportunity to fight for their thrones.

[enlitment]

Some Julius Caesar x The Danton Case Parallels to Celebrate the Ides of March, Frev Style 🔪🥳

Firstly, both Przybyszewska’s Danton Case and Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar are obviously (excellent!) tragedies that are set in a dying republic on the brink of collapse.

Here are some other interesting parallels I was able to trace:

1. Brutus and Robespierre:

Both of them are driven to execute an important figure even though they initially do not want to do it. They are both conflicted but feel like they have no other choice and have to commit the violent act for the good of the republic.

They are also arguably quite alike in terms of character: you have the „noble Brutus“ and then Robespierre, who is consistently referred to as „the Incorruptible“. Both are seen by others as selfless and committed to the good of the state (the people in the crowd very much emphasise this fact in both of the plays, I do have the receipts)

There is even the scene in which Brutus chastises Cassius for taking bribes, which plays into the idea of him as being (literally) “incorruptible” as well. And vice versa, traces of Brutus’ famed stoicism can then certainly be found in Maximilien.

2. Cassius and Saint-Just:

Both are characters who convince the protagonists (Brutus/Robespierre) to go along the violent act while not necessarily being portrayed as antagonists (at least Saint-Just definitely can't be seen as one in Przybyszewska’s play).

There are also parallels in the close relationship between Brutus and Cassius and Robespierre and Saint-Just, where they are very much portrayed as each other’s closest confidants. Of course, this idea can easily be pushed even further if one wishes to read between the lines. (There is no Camille Desmoulins in Shakespeare though)

3. Manipulating the Crowd:

I'm perhaps the most fascinated by how both Brutus and Mark Antony as well as Robespierre and Danton have the necessary rhetorical skills to manipulate the crowd of commoners (Robespierre being able to “play the crowd like an organ” very much came to my mind when I was reading Act 3 Scene 2 of the Shakespeare’s play).

Both Shakespeare and Przybyszewska portray “the court of public opinion” and how it can easily be manipulated - how opinions can be changed in the matter of minutes - in a way that is genuinely fascinating.

Specifically, the similarity between A3S2 in which people first listen to Brutus only to be immediately swayed by Mark Antony’s speech shortly after and the scene in the court in which Danton manipulates the crowd were in fact so similar in some respects that it was borderline uncanny.

The problem arises when looking for a mirror to Danton’s character in Shakespeare’s play.

4. The Case for Danton x Caesar:

It is Caesar who gets killed for being perceived as a danger to the republic

Both Caesar and Danton are portrayed as being very much beloved by the common people

Also, the idea of Danton being immortal is expressed at the end of Przybyszewka’s play, and while he does not come back literally as a ghost like Ceasar does, Robespierre nonetheless explains to Saint-Just that Danton’s spirit never truly dies.

5. The Case for Danton x Mark Antony:

If we see Danton and Robespierre as foils, Mark Antony makes more sense as a parallel to Danton (even though he does not die), since both Robespierre and Brutus as the classic ascetic/stoic archetype while Danton and Mark Antony’s are well-known for their appetite for drinking, women (or, you know, people, in the case of Mark Antony) , and the pleasures of life overall.

Both are also severely underestimated by their enemies at first, yet they prove to be quite cunning and are able to use their words skilfully to win over the public

Overall, reading both of the plays – especially the parts about manipulating the Roman public and the citizens of Paris just with the power of words – really makes me wonder if Przybyszewska read Shakespeare’s play and used it as a source of inspiration. It would make sense, especially given how the parallel between the French Republic and the Roman Republic was well-established long before her time (even, somewhat tragically, by the revolutionaries themselves).

I promise I think about Przybyszewska's and Shakespeare’s play and the Roman Republic along with the French Revolution a totally normal amount of time & that it definitely does not consume my every waking thought that should be very much going towards the exam preparation.

[breathetoseethetruth]

Entirely random Twilight take: I always thought it was sad, how much Bella as a vampire was just entirely written off as a Mary Sue by many, because to me it showed, how little anyone paid attention to what the narrative told us about her as an individual character.

Bella is so good at being a vampire, because she so thoroughly wanted to be one. Because a vampire was what she was always meant to be. It was her destiny, as well as her own chosen destiny. She's the only Cullen, who actually made the choice to be a vampire. She doesn't yearn for humanity like say Rosalie or Edward, because she was born as the wrong species.

The narrative establishes how unhappy she is with being human (even though Bella herself initially couldn't really recognize that that's what it was, as she wasn't an inherent believer into anything supernatural at first), even before she meets Edward. We are shown how clumsy she is in her human body, because this isn't the form she's meant to have.

She's as enamored with Vampirism itself (the beauty, powers, benefits, immortality) as she is with Edward, as we see her repeatedly romanticize Vampirism, even separately from Edward, in the books. I'd go as far as saying, that she would have wanted to become a vampire, even if she hadn't fallen in love with Edward.

This is probably the most interesting aspect about her, yet it flew over so many people's heads, even though this probably would have made her more intriguing to many of said people.

We rarely see this in protagonists and heroes in mainstream media: actively seeking out power (and immortality) like that. Many of them actually prefer a mundane life (well, the "status quo", really) and have powers happen to them against their will, or they reluctantly accept power or positions of power for the greater good. The hero or protagonist, is supposed to be humble and reject power, to prove they are good and worthy. The fact that the female main character of Twilight, of all characters, went against this stereotype, makes the supposedly "bland" Bella rather interesting to me.

"My time as a human was over, but I never felt more alive."

"After 18 years of being utterly ordinary, I finally found I could shine. I was born to be a vampire."

[dustyspines]

i step up to the mic. i say: the actual cursed child is cedric. the crowd boo and throw tomatoes at me as i leave. they don’t know i’m right.

[unordinary-diary]

Blyke and John: the Followup

In my last entry, I pointed out the similarities between chapters 249 and 121, but I had hit the image limit and wasn’t able to embed screenshots. I got around this by linking the chapters, but this is probably my favorite parallel, and to do it justice I think I need to really put them next to each other.

(121) (249)

(121) (249)

(121) (249)

(121) (249)

(121) (249)

(121) (249)

(121) (249)

(121) (249)

(121) (249)

(121) (249)

(121) (249)

(121) (249)

(121) (249)

It’s the same fucking scene but backwards and in a different font.

They’re the SAAAAAAAAAAME!!!!!!!!

This was definitely on purpose. Shit like this ^^ doesn’t happen by accident.

[olrinarts]

so this was originally a mini-essay i spared a poor commenter on constancy must transpose when they mentioned liking an aspect of Narinder's characterisation in that, but i did like it, so i want to go more in-depth about it over here. much, much more in-depth (can you tell I went to college for English/Lit. Criticisms)

it has now become an entirely too long essay(ish) below the cut on why Narinder has an option to be softer that he rarely takes in other universes but does take in CMT, and why I stuck him with the Ivory Crown and the domains of Life and Resurrection (extensive use of in-game dialogue ahoy lmao)

So i do sincerely believe that Narinder has a capacity for a softer characterisation that doesn't conflict with his canon interactions, mostly because of how i've read those interactions with the Lamb over the course of the game, going purely by text dialogue and scenes, etc (if the devs have said something about his characterisation, I haven't heard it and I prefer working via canon rather than word of god, anyway.)

Part of the 'for want of a nail' re: his characterisation in CMT, and ultimately for why and how the Ivory Crown has the opportunity to emerge, is that he's more willing to acknowledge the soft spot he has for the Lamb. I'd argue that soft spot is very textual:

When the Lamb dies, a crueller god would be much angrier, and an ambivalent god wouldn't bother to speak to them about it. Narinder chooses to reassure the Lamb outright instead, telling them to 'Continue on, undaunted. Each time you are brought down, you rise again stronger.', among other dialogue. Though others insist he's a cruel, untrustworthy god (Leshy and Heket say the Lamb shouldn't trust the One Who Waits and call TOWW a monster, respectively), he sure doesn't punish them for when they've arguably failed.

He repeatedly compliments them on their progress, calling them worthy, saying he chose wisely to make them his vessel, along with comments like 'Your merciless crusade against the Old Faith warms my cold, unbeating heart.'

He flat out says the Lamb wore the Crown almost as well as he does. From someone who believes himself the only truly worthy bearer, I feel like that's actually a pretty big compliment.

There's other examples, but I'll keep it to that, I feel that successfully conveys why I think it's textual. Someone could make the argument that it's all feigned to lull the Lamb into believing, and I think that's a perfectly valid interpretation - but his progression in the post-game implies that it wasn't. From the musing about the materials of his siblings' realms and his reactions to the Lamb bringing them back, the steady progression from frustration to the silence from Shamura's mission, there's a tone of reconciliation, not an entirely new soft spot.

It becomes an explicit reconciliation if you've chosen the Resurrection tenet (which in CMT the Lamb did not, nor was it made available) - part of Narinder's response being 'I cannot begrudge supplantation by one such as yourself''. This is accompanied by sincere laughter and enjoyment of watching the Lamb defy the domain that he both wielded with an iron fist and resented for its iron binds, as dialogue from Haro and Shamura implies and outright states, respectively.

'Truly peculiar, 'twould then seem, his appetency to invite the novel and the new... ...Doubt tears faith asunder.' -Haro

'...he grew discontent with his role. He began to question.' -Shamura

All of this to say that in canon, despite knowing he would sacrifice the Lamb in the end, Narinder was still personally invested in the Lamb as a person, not merely a tool. There's a companion to constancy must transpose that'll go up, chimes of bone, which starts from a similar if not the same universe, but the sacrifice goes ahead successfully.

The reason I'm establishing all of this as the canon interpretation I have is so that I can make the 'argument' for Narinder's objectively softer characterisation in CMT, which contrasts with a lot of popular interpretations I've seen. No one is arguing with me, it's just the way of literary analysis to argue with your own basic premise.

So there are a few points that differ from the canon events (that aren't just worldbuilding or headcanons) that make CMT's characterisation (hell, the story itself) possible:

Narinder was willing to acknowledge to himself that he had an investment in the Lamb.

The Lamb did not have the Resurrection tenet made available at any point in-game for Reasons.

The Lamb was aware from much earlier on, if not the beginning, that they would give their life at the end of the arrangement (why this wasn't an issue but a freely accepted condition is a whole other separate essay lmao)

And at the heart of it is the question: 'what if they're all tired of this endless, exhausting cycle?'

Narinder and the rest of the Bishops are people, after all. The Bishops all explicitly express fear, regret, anger, and grief in their own ways, which is (again) a separate essay. And what I've found in general, and what serves as both interesting progression and conflict in terms of plot, is that people are drawn towards trying to heal their injuries, whether those are physical or otherwise. That isn't always something a person wants to accept consciously, and the struggle between wanting to heal and wanting to stay injured for whatever reason a character might have, is a good stepping stone in not only the plot but the overall story.

The reason in terms of story construction, not plot, that Narinder has the domains of Life and Resurrection, is because he's the nexus of the injuries dealt throughout the rest of the players. That isn't to say he's at fault, only that he's the central point of the hurts everyone, including himself, have been dealt. The sheep were all killed to prevent his escape. He was the one suffocating from the domain of Death, wholly unsuited to his own nature (differing from personality in that the latter is the characterisation and the former is the motivation.) He was the one to discover how to reverse that domain, terrifying the other Bishops for varying reasons. He was the one to wound them, in retaliation for their profound betrayal. He was the one imprisoned Below for a thousand years, deserved or undeserved depending on whose side is the point of view (and even then it's a bit more complicated on the 'deserved' side than a black and white view.) It's from Narinder that all of the current injuries and hurts have rippled out, not from fault but from the injuries dealt to him.

Therefore, if anyone would be suited to the domain of Life - and his specific expression of it, the flesh and the struggle, the defiance of one's end until there isn't a scrap left to resist - it would be Narinder. Resurrection is his and will remain so, as well as the rule over souls in flux rather than the souls that move on, which are the Lamb's to care for and guide. That is made possible by the Life domain that's been suppressed by the weight of Death, so inherent to his nature that the Crown to rule it emerges from his own body (appropriately, the crown of his head specifically.) 'Here did Death no longer wish to wait', said the statue of the Red Crown, and freedom from waiting has its own issues, but is infinitely better than that suffocating weight of Death.

This - the defiance and the violent struggle of bodily Life, the expression of time moving forward and refusing to bow to it - is precisely why Narinder is able to be softer. This Narinder has come into possession of a domain far more suited to him, but he's done so in the presence of a new god determined to keep him as himself even before the Ivory Crown emerges. The Lamb refuses to let him diminish, for reasons described in-story (as no one will read this far, and quite rightfully so, spoilers are safe: the accidental moment of fear that resulted in their 'betrayal' was never intentional.) Whether he's willing to trust it or accept it in the early chapters is irrelevant: it will remain there, and it will remain a path out, and the Lamb will be damned and obliterated before they close that path to the god they never stopped revering.

That insistence on guarding his path out does come back to bite them in the ass, but it was always offered in sincerity, and it's the Lamb. For the last century, they were devoted: they trusted him and did as he commanded without fail, even if it took many deaths to accomplish. He'd given them a chance to avenge their people, to change things, to give the world something new in the time they had because he chose to command them to run his cult, instead of some other, less authoritative use. In return, whether intentional or not, Narinder came to trust them. They were his key out then, before the 'betrayal': the first scrap of true hope in a millennium, a distant flicker of light in the long dark of a possibly eternal wait. Even he, the One Who Waits, betrayed by his family for the sin of seeking any relief from the domain that had been chaining him in place long before he was cast down, found himself trusting them.

Once they handle the misunderstanding from hell, then, he's left in a vulnerable position that he quite reasonably despises after millennia of godhood - and for all their flaws (the Lamb has many of them, as does he), they still refused to let him go. They continue to have faith in him, despite being a god themself and before he's a god once more. There is an option to be softer, an afterwards that isn't necessarily a bitter end (which is itself a theme over on the Lamb side of things.) That's where the freedom from the inevitability he's carried since the Red Crown chose him truly comes into play. The heart of the story itself emerges and remains, no matter where the plot goes.

'What if they're all tired of this endless, exhausting cycle?'

Narinder's no longer locked into the role of the One Who Waits. He's now the One Who Waited, and Waits No Longer. He can choose to be new, he can choose to be different, and in CMT he chooses to do both of those things. In that decision is the crux of the softness and the drawing in of the people connected to the nexus of his place at the centre of the story: the Lamb coming to terms with the Crown they've have taken, and maybe were always meant to have, anyway. The Bishops in ways individual to each: Leshy's the only one in the story so far, at the time of this... jfc, incredibly long 'essay' (ch. 21). Seeing the option for softness (or enmity), reunion (or alienation), for a chance at something he can't predict, it's kind of unsurprising that the former god of Chaos barrels into the unknown. Not immediately changing, but he'd be uninterested if it was instantaneous, in my opinion.

In the end, CMT really rests on two events: the Lamb's accidental betrayal from fear (other essay that I pray will not happen), and Narinder's choice to reject inevitability and the chains he's worn for most of his existence to forgive them for it. After, the relationship progresses (it's a ship story as well, after all), and that itself gives him chances to be soft with the Lamb in ways he previously would've chosen to gargle liquid glass over doing. Part of it is sincere feeling, obviously, but a lot of it is the novelty of getting to choose it. His nature is inherently curious, and wants new things. Curiosity chained the cat, but the Lamb's devotion brought him back.

There's other factors and interpretations, but this is already an entirely too long analysis of my own damn writing and by god that's pretentious enough for me to know when to set it down, thanks for coming to my TED Talk

[toastandjamie]

Okay so, I wanna preface this by saying that I have not read Sanderson’s other books so this is not a discussion about his actual abilities as a writer, and I’m not saying that he’s in anyway a bad writer. I do not envy the situation he was in At All, it must’ve been incredibly difficult to be given the responsibility of finishing such a long and beloved story as Wheel of Time. Trying to honor RJ’s story and characters when you are jumping in at the climax and expected to finish it in a way that the fans find satisfying when there is no way to make Every fan happy with the ending. Okay with that out of the way let’s talk.

So i have a lot of feelings about the final three books of Wheel of Time. There were many parts I enjoyed and there were also parts I was disappointed by. Personally, I felt like many aspects of the last three books felt rushed and incomplete and the pacing a bit odd in places and a lot of that comes down to the fact that it was originally meant to be one giant book, but like- that would’ve been ridiculous and I agree with the choice to break it up into multiple books. However I honestly think they should’ve just broke it up into more than three books to properly to pace them. There were a lot of things that Needed to happen that I think ended up causing certain things to get cut, for instance I do believe a big portion of both Mat and Min’s storylines in those last books were cut for time, specifically I think there was probably originally a lot more time dedicated to dealing with the Seanchen. What I believe to have happened is that Sanderson was given the notes about where the Black Tower needed to be and decided to dedicate the time to it and in exchange he cut the Seanchen plot line for pacing since the Seanchen were Technically already solved. Technically. Now controversial opinion but I did actually like Androl, however, I think he and the rest of the Black Tower suffered from having their storyline rushed. The plot line in the black tower should’ve started after the Ashaman with Rand betrayed them as we got to see the corruption already seeping into the Black Tower. Sadly that’s not what we got, but it honestly deserved an entire book to properly introduce it and it would’ve benefited from having pre-established characters that we cared about be more involved. Other parts of the story I think deserved more time dedicated to, the actual process of stealing the horn of Valere back from the White Tower, I wanted a heist mission with Faile and the Band but that is just personal preference lol. More time learning about Slayer and the red veiled Aiel, they were introduced and then promptly stopped actually mattering outside of being enemy fodder. Literally everything about Faine and the Evil of Shadar Logoth, Faine dying so quickly will forever disappoint me, he was a main antagonist since book one and his death felt very quick and unceremonious, like just tying up loose ends.

Next is issues with characterization. Once again I do not envy Sanderson’s job here at all. This type of thing isn’t easy but I can also see exactly where the issues were. Sanderson by his own admission didn’t understand Mat, and he Did get better at writing him but the damage was already done unfortunately and there wasn’t enough time to properly fix the issues with Mat’s characterization. Mat was not the only character whose characterization was flattened however, Aviendha and Tuon for instance also lacked a lot of their original nuance. I think it’s very clear where Sanderson struggled and that is with unreliable narrators. Characters that Sanderson seems to both enjoy the most and successfully write in a compelling way are characters who very straight forward and honest, their internal monologue matches their actions, and they reliably narrate their stories. Characters like Perrin and Galad thrived under Sanderson’s writing style. Androl is a very obvious example of this archetype being one that he’s comfortable writing. The issue he faced with both Mat and Tuon is that their unreliable narrators who act inconsistently to an outsider perspective and I think for Mat especially Sanderson struggled to get past his first impression of Mat. The biggest issue with Sanderson’s version of Mat is that his character arc was reset, Sanderson’s Mat was still running away from his destiny and trying to avoid Rand, something Mat had already worked past in books four and five with Melindra and the Rhavin incident teaching him to accept his destiny and embrace his role as Rand’s General. This meant that Mat and Tuon’s relationship lost a large part of its nuance and Mat’s actions felt out of character and immature for the point in the story we reached. There’s also the difference in how RJ wrote Mat’s “flirtatious play boy” status versus how Sanderson portrays it and it can feel a bit jarring at times, and just in general, I feel like Sanderson often wrote Mat as “stupid” where he very much isn’t. He’s reckless and mischievous but never stupid and I think Sanderson equated his recklessness with stupidity in some places.

Writers play favorites, and it does show, RJ’s favorite was Mat and Sanderson’s favorite was Perrin and both are very obvious preferences. Poor Rand was neither writers favorite but it’s okay because as the protagonist he at least got consistent page time dedicated to him. RJ definitely paid more attention to Mat than Perrin and Sanderson did vice versa. So I’m not complaining just because I wanted Mat to get more page time. My issues with it are that Mat ended up feeling a bit underwhelming during the last battle. Where all other characters got to have their spotlight moment during a Memory of Light, Mat didn’t; and perhaps that’s because Towers of Midnight was originally part of a Memory of Light so Mat had got his big moment in the final book during the original draft. The Seanchen overall felt like it was resolved in an underwhelming manner, as did the Shadar Logoth plot line and it just so happens that both of those plot lines were Mat’s and I do think Sanderson’s bias informed his decision at least subconsciously when choosing which storylines to trim down.

In summary I would’ve rather Sanderson made it five more whole books if it meant that all the plot lines could be given enough time to be resolved in a fully satisfactory way.