#so I ask again: what dissonance is your character feeling

[mikkeneko]

If I can add one tip about how to write characters' emotional journeys over time, based on my experience both in real life and in writing:

The number one cause of emotional conflict is when people feel an emotion that, for whatever social or personal reason, they don't think they are permitted to feel.

There can be a hundred reasons why they feel like they aren't 'permitted' -- maybe it's a gender socialization issue, maybe it runs afoul of a social taboo, maybe they feel like they're in the wrong in whatever the conflict is and so they are obliged to defer to the other party's hurt feelings over their own, maybe this is a maladaptive coping mechanism where in the past they've suffered consequences for feeling and expressing the feeling, so now they don't dare.

This conflict, this dissonance, between what they think they 'should' feel and what they ACTUALLY DO feel can manifest in a hundred different directions, and drives a lot of seemingly irrational behaviors, but if your characters are not doing it, why aren't they? Are they really that perfectly in tune with their emotions? Or have you as a writer just not identified what the underlying emotion really is?

That post that's like "stop writing characters who talk like they're trying to get a good grade in therapy" really blew the door wide open for me about how common it's become for a character's emotional intelligence to not be taken into consideration when writing conflict. I remember the first time I went to therapy I had such a hard time even identifying what I was feeling, let alone had the language to explain it to someone else. Of course there are plenty of people who've never been to therapy a day in their life who are in tune to their emotions. But even they would have some trouble expressing themselves sometimes. You have to take into account there are plenty of people who are uncomfortable expressing themselves and people who think they're not allowed to feel certain ways. It also makes for more interesting conflict to have characters with different levels of understanding.

[rhemaji]

Lil rant abt Caine

Caine is just a lil guy, despite it all. From a design standpoint I thought I was gonna absolutely fucking hate looking at him because those chattering teeth toys make my skin crawl- but the art direction really helps make him look more appealing and whimsical than a disembodied pair of talking dentures sounds on paper.

The thing with Caine is I didn't initially like him that much after the pilot. While his interactions with Bubble were quite funny, that one episode left me feeling like he'd just end up being kinda one note or at the very least one note in a way that'd get on my nerves. Then everything changed when Pomni Wake Up Time to Go On an Adventure! attacked

The comedic timing throughout that announcement video was so fucking funny and thanks to his line deliveries and animation/model [?] upgrades- CAINE LOOKED AND SOUNDED SO ADORABLE!!

Legit it wasn't until this came out that I realized I actually could be on board with Caine as a character and it's been uphill from there. Episode 2 was better than the pilot not only comedically and visually but also in terms of showcasing just how actually unsettling Caine can be as an antagonist. Not because he's vengeful or malicious, but because he's so oblivious to how people work. His mind's always buzzing with terrible ideas and he's so so eager about these adventures, but at the end of the day he really really doesn't get the circus crew. Try as he might to include them, keep them engaged [ZOOBLE WAIT!], or even give them what they want [Exit doors] he doesn't realize how traumatic and distressing their current situation can be. The very nature of being trapped in a digital world is bad enough but it's especially rough here bc not only does its god have limited capabilities, you also are very well acquainted with him, and he can't fully understand your pain nor can he truly save you from it. He won't mourn your abstraction. He will not attend your funeral. He will not understand the distress of your arrival, nor the weight of your departure.

This isn't just sad from the pov of the circus gang, it's also very sad for Caine- not because i think he'll ever feel sad about it himself necessarily, but instead because the situation is sad. New members appear over and over, you craft adventures and games and distractions like [i'm assuming] they'd asked you to, but over and over, one by one, they abstract. They stop laughing at your jokes. They don't like you. They want you to leave them alone. It's confusing and maybe even inconvenient.

Where I'm hoping the series takes Caine is that this dissonance between Caine's intentions and the distress of the circus gang gets worse and worse and worse until something's got to give. I'm hoping that maybe at some point a character will try to sit down and talk with him and for it to either sorta get through to him but completely backfire in some form because he misinterprets what the others want from him OR i'd also be down for him to listen, but not understand any of it and proceed as tho nothing happened. I don't want Caine to come around really, it'd be interesting to see how Goose would go about having him come around to being a better host that empathizes more with humans, but personally I do prefer him to keep on keepin' on being this oblivious and eager antagonist.

My favorite Caine lines/line deliveries so far:

"You, my friend, stumbled into an incredible world of wonders, where anything can happen!…e-except for swearing."

"And here we have THE GROUNDS! Drown yourself in the digital lake, or engage in ridery at the digital carnival!"

"What do you think of XDDCC? You're right, terrible, LET'S TRY THAT AGAIN!"

"Kaufmo abstracted? Why didn't anybody tell me?"

"Bubble you can't say that"

"-ZOOBLE WAIT!"

"Why are you all just standing there?! The- The Canyon- C-Candy Canyon Kingdom needs you now!" [according to his VA, this was an actual line flub but hoo boy am i glad they use it bc it's hilarious]

"I know you guys love your NPCs, but if I start losing track of who's a human and who's an NPC, who knows...what. could. happen..."

That last line there specifically surprised me the most because up until he said that I was under the impression Caine was linked to every single NPC. I even thought he could see through their eyes if he so chose thanks to his "hundreds of all seeing eyes" line in the pilot. Him saying this here implies lots of things. Has Caine forgotten before? Is someone in the circus secretly an NPC ooooooooh~

"Who knows what could happen..."

Honestly, when Caine first said this I did immediately theorize Jax as being an NPC but now that it's been *checks calendar* three months since I watched episode 2, I don't think this is the case anymore. Jax being an NPC would be...something. Jax not knowing he's an NPC would be interesting [i like it when ppl's realities get shattered], but honestly I think this line was a way to telegraph to the audience that no Caine isn't actually all knowing. He didn't know Gummigoo was coming through that portal until he saw him with his own two eyes. My theory is that Caine is only able to teleport, create, censor, transform, and destroy the world around him, but isn't able to see all of it at once unless he tries to. I think Caine's default state is one where he only knows what he sees directly in front of him/what he himself has left waiting for someone else. And rather than implying someone in the gang is an NPC, I think that line in episode 2 was mainly implying Caine can be tricked, that it's possible to hide something from him, to surprise him even. Though I'm not opposed to an NPC we haven't met trying to join under the guise of being human, it'd potentially create some fun tension assuming the audience was given enough reason to care about them.

Jax is actually my favorite character in tadc, but i couldn't fill an entire post with things to say abt him. Caine seems to be- at least as of right now- the easiest of all the characters to try and wrap my head around. I'll probably have a lot more to say about Jax as he exists in canon as the episodes come out [EPISODE 6 MY BELOVED]

but uhhhh yeah, that's all the things i had to say abt Caine. Pls go watch/listen to the fansong Digital Land bye!

[syneilesis]

[fic] Impact Factor

Impact Factor

Love and Deepspace | Zayne (Li Shen) x Main-Character!Reader | G | 4k words | ao3 link

god, i'm so lovesick. what have you done to me? You tell Zayne that you're co-authoring a research paper. He finds himself wanting and waiting to read it.

A/N: For @seraphiism 's 2024 writing event. I chose Lovesick by Laufey. I know. Zayne? Lovesick? Lmao I don't know if I pulled it off, but I have to write for Zayne at least once.

I gave this fic a single, cursory proofread. Any mistake is still my fault. Divider by @/saradika

“By the way, a professor of mine in college reached out to me last week and asked me if I was interested in co-authoring an article with her on the phenomenology of vocation of the people working in Hunters Association.”

The clacking of the keyboard is crisp and loud in the silverlined office, accompanied by the low hum of the airconditioner. Zayne's attention remains on the computer, updating your status condition. He makes a brief noise to indicate that he's listening, and when he takes his gaze away from the desktop he finds you watching him with a faint grin on your face.

“Do you want me to guess your reply?”

That faint grin grows wide and whole.

“What do you think?”

Zayne leans back and rolls his chair a little farther, reaching out to turn on the printer. The machine whirls to life, chatters.

“You accepted the offer, of course.” He returns to his laptop and clicks on the print icon. “You don't have the heart to refuse your professor.”

“Dr. Zayne, you know me so well.”

Something in the way you said it compels him to turn to you again. Your expression hasn't changed, but the fall of your hair frames your slightly narrowed eyes that sparkle under the bright fluorescent light, like rare midday stars. It staggers the beats of Zayne's heart for two seconds, seizes his throat, and in that sliver of a moment Zayne forgets to breathe.

“Maybe it's because you're transparent,” he says, after retrieving the prescription from the printer. He hands you the paper, and surprise stretches your features. He clarifies: “Supplements. Undoubtedly you will need it when you begin your research.”

“Nothing less from my doctor.” My. The word is malleable around your mouth. And then: “I'm transparent? Is that a bad thing?”

“It's not a flaw.” He signs the healthcare forms you passed onto him. “But neither is it a virtue.”

“Hmm. Then, I guess I'll watch myself.”

His head jerks at your response, and Zayne has something to say to that—something like your not needing to be conscious of how open you are—but then your watch beeps and you apologize for the sudden departure.

Alone in his office, Zayne sinks into his chair and closes his eyes.

▼

That exchange, brief yet odd, lingers in Zayne's mind, like a stone at the base of his brain, next to the stem and cerebellum. He can feel its weight, its matter, solid and bothersome that at one point Greyson stops and asks him, “Are you okay, Dr. Zayne? You seem to be distracted today.”

A flash of memory; the word transparent, your answer. Were it not for the emergency mission, he would have hastened to add that transparency is closely associated with sincerity—and that is a virtue. He imagines a version of you as secretive as a glacier, as closed-off as a fortress, and the dissonance it invites rings discordant in the history between you—you who have always reached out to him first.

His hands itch for the phone that's secluded in one of his drawers, away from distraction, from memory. Zayne is, after all, duty first, the rest a distant second.

“It's nothing,” he tells Greyson. “I'm fine.”

“Maybe it's time for a vacation? You've been busy—busier than usual—lately.”

“I'll take a vacation at the end of the year. Right now, you're needed in the meeting room for a briefing.”

When Greyson clears the area, Zayne turns and sees Yvonne near the entrance of the lobby, studying him, her face arranged in a way that invites him to defend himself for some reason. But he resists the irrational urge.

He meets her scrutiny with a long and stoic gaze, and she shakes her head, wordless, then continues on with her work.

Left in the hallway, Zayne sighs and goes back to his office.

▼

“Dr. Zayne!”

Shapes of different colors coalesce into your reflection on the glass that displays the myriad cakes Zayne's been deliberating upon for the last fifteen minutes. The figure looms larger and larger, until it sidles up next to him and he straightens up, turning to his side.

“What a coincidence,” you continue with a glancing smile, hand on your chin as you survey the available pastries for purchase. “Are you buying desserts too?”

Earlier, Akso Hospital had a rare moment of slowness that allowed its personnel to indulge in a breather, which afforded Zayne to clock out on time. As a treat—and he will never admit this to anyone—he's stopped by the bakeshop on the way home, and to his surprise, here you are as well.

To your question he can only give a noncommittal sound; then to the cashier he points at the sea salt caramel vanilla slice that he's wanted to try for a while now. Both you and the cashier let out an intrigued Oh! before the purchase is processed at the register.

“Sea salt caramel vanilla,” you say with an evaluatory seriousness, “good choice.”

Zayne pinches the bridge of his nose.

“By the way, I've started on the research project. Been doing some preliminary reading since I don't want to disappoint my former professor. So far I'm doing well—the supplements are a great help!”

The supplements. He had an inkling that, as you are wont to do with every mission, you were rushing into this project with all your mind and body, tunnel-visioned, only the end goal visible in your sights. This unfortunately excludes concerns regarding your health, and Zayne is correct: all nighters and skipped meals, both of which erode the state of a person's health. When you are focused on something, that something takes the highest priority, and he can't always be with you all the time to remind you to take a break, or eat healthy food, or drink water. Which is why: supplements. They're not preventative, but at least they mitigate.

And it seems you're telling the truth: no tightness in your eyes and tautness in the shape of your mouth. In this case—in the case of your aspiration to conceal—you have not changed—or at least attempted to hold yourself back. Something in his chest loosens, smooths the tenseness out of his muscles that Zayne hasn't realized is there.

This is something to ponder, but not at the moment.

“I don't have to remind you that supplements are not substitutes for healthy food and proper sleep, do I?”

“Of course not! Even I know that.” But then your expression turns sheepish. “In practice, that's a little ...”

Zayne pinches the bridge of his nose again.

“But don't worry too much about me, Dr. Zayne! I'm taking care of myself just fine!”

“That doesn't instill much confidence.”

“How about this, then?” And you face him fully, a ready smile brimming with its own confidence and assurance, as radiant as an aurora. “If something happens, you will be the first person I'll turn to.”

At that Zayne pauses. The easy trust you bring between the both of you warms his neck, the back of it, climbing up, up, up to the tips of his ears and to his cheeks. He moves on to the cashier, his back on you.

“Try not to let that 'something' happen, but I know you're too stubborn to listen.”

A chuckle, and then: “I can't make any promises, but I'll try.”

This time, Zayne turns back.

“'Try' implies effort, so I am expecting effort.”

You snap a salute, grinning. “Got it, Doc!”

▼

The day after that, Zayne begins to read up on the subject of phenomenology.

▼

It won't be a couple of weeks until Zayne sees you again—but this time it's under the harsh hospital lights and the din of frantic footsteps and rolling wheels, the mixed scents of blood and antiseptic stinging his nose. A Wanderer surge disrupted the southern part of Linkon, and of the hunters dispatched you had been one of them.

Zayne glides around the moving bodies, steps never faltering until he finds you tucked in a corner, cradling your broken arm.

When his shadow falls upon your involuted frame, you lift your head and a rueful grin greets him. Your glass-sheen gaze doesn't escape his scrutiny.

He's wearing his white coat, and both of his hands retreat into its pockets, where he closes them into tight fists. If Zayne tilts his head a little more to the right, he can see a lengthy gash that lines along your temple and into your scalp, covered by your blood-crusted hair. He is painfully aware that this is part and parcel of your profession, the risk that endangers a hunter during a mission. A part of him is thankful that today it is only a broken arm and a couple of wounds. It could have been much worse, and Zayne refuses to imagine a scenario where you come into the hospital drained of vitality. A frustrated sigh threatens to spill out of him, but he endures, and just pointedly shoots you a disappointed look.

“So this is all the effort that you mentioned just amounted to.”

“To be fair I was doing well for a couple of hours until I had to rescue a civilian trapped in a damaged building.”

“That is commendable.” And he means it. But—“Follow that nurse with the brown clipboard. He's in charge of injuries like yours. Can you walk that far?”

Your uninjured hand braces against the wall and you pull yourself up, the motion not quite fluid but not a slow stagger either. Zayne would have assisted you, but it seems that you can do it on your own.

“It's my arm that's broken, not my legs.” A wincing smile, and you start to make your way forward. “I know that you have to take care of other people, Dr. Zayne, but thanks for checking up on me.”

Behind him, a nurse calls his name, a signal to go back to his work. There are other patients who need his attention more than you do, and overall you seem fine, still put together. A broken arm can heal over time, given proper medical care. And Zayne knows, intimately, that Akso does not lack for anything.

Still. It's not entirely on purpose, but Zayne calls your name.

“I—” he begins, as you slow down to wait for whatever he's going to say. His throat struggles, constricting and opening in subconscious reflex. “I'd still rather not worry about you like this.”

In and around the space between you and him, the hospital remains astir—shadows and silhouettes slipping in and out of Zayne's sight—until they give way to the blossoming smile on your face, eclipsing everything from the back to the fore, a pinpoint mark on the map.

Later, even as he tends to his patients, your smile persists in Zayne's mind, an afterimage that refuses to disappear behind his eyelids.

▼

Exactly one week after that incident, Zayne receives a bouquet of jasmines and a box of banana bread. Attached to it is a pristine white card with a line written: Don't forget to take care of yourself too!

The card stays in his breast pocket well beyond his working hours, right next to his beating heart.

▼

Days pass, weeks, months, and Zayne finds himself browsing through phenomenology journals during his break in the hopes of seeing your name in one of them. He knows that you'll tell him once it's published, but there's a part of him that clamors for the first touch of knowledge, the letters that make up your name woven in the glowing screen of his tablet.

At the same time, Greyson and Yvonne have bitten into their suspicions—whatever they are, Zayne refuses to ask—and swallowed the succulence as if it's a juicy truth. Often he sees Greyson glancing at him with a shadow of a smile, a quick sleight of hand that when Zayne fully faces him his expression is already ironed out and professional. Yvonne is no better: all glimmering eyes and knowing grins and incessant questions about his mood. Once, he asked the reason for the barrage of questions and Yvonne ignored the frost in his voice and tittered, telling him that sometimes in life, they have to combat the monotony with exciting things.

It worries him somewhat that you and Yvonne and even Greyson have been getting along quite well for a time now.

But your name still doesn't appear, and it doesn't seem to be appearing in the foreseeable future. Still Zayne searches, his fingers already making a habit of typing your name in the bar, his heart beating for a yes.

▼

At some point, he's asked about your progress.

“It's been going well,” you answer. “Professor made some comments about the part in my results and discussion, so I'm going to revise that. I think we can submit it by next month if we maintain the pace.”

After a thoughtful pause, you rest your arms on his desk, cushion your chin on them, and angle him a sly look.

“Are you offering to proofread my work, Dr. Zayne?”

“I may need a box of red pens for that.”

That jolts a laugh out of you, and you recover by sending a mock pout his way.

“I’ll have you know that I was a diligent writer in college! I won in essay writing competitions!”

“Is that so? Then I suppose your first foray in academic publishing will be a successful ‘accepted with minor revisions’ reply from the editor.”

“Of course! Oh, fine, fine. I won’t ask you to proofread the manuscript. You can just wait until it’s published.”

A small, genuine smile. “I’m looking forward to it.”

▼

Eventually, he receives a text that says, We finally submitted the article! Now we just have to wait 🫣

He excuses himself from a cluster of medical professionals talking about the latest breakthroughs in oncology and parks himself beside the long table of drinks. He texts back: Watch out for Reviewer #2. They’re always the culprit.

It takes a full ten minutes before you reply, and during that period of anticipation four individuals have come up to him and attempted to pull him into a conversation about his accomplishments and recent research—one even braving to entice him into applying to another hospital.

Zayne shakes them off as politely as he can (and to that one poacher he gives a cold and resolute no). When his phone beeps, he turns away and redirects his undivided attention to the screen. All your latest message contains is a single salute emoji and the single-word sentence Gotcha! A laugh startles out of him, which Yvonne—having developed an eagle eye for Zayne in the recent weeks—notices and she scurries over to Greyson, bowing their heads in hushed whispers, glancing at him every now and then.

He's realized what they'd been talking about whenever he's in their vicinity, and he's tempted to refute their assumptions and retaliate accordingly. But the stone-weight in his mind had transformed into a persistent itch that does not choose when it strikes. In most cases it's merely annoying, but on rare occasions it is, frankly, merciless. A good-night text echoes in his dreams, and Zayne wakes with a thick sweetness coating the inside of his mouth. A fleeting touch from your worried hand burns the skin of his arm, the heat seeping into the layers until it reaches the subcutaneous tissue, where it spreads all over his body through the veins. He has to evade your glare to hide the ruddiness of his cheeks. Capitulation is the only option he had to choose in the end, and the idea of surrendering to this melts away the reflexive inquiry of when and how and why—a trait he had to hone as a doctor and a researcher.

What else is left when all the signs are pointing to this one immutable conclusion? 

▼

On the day and hour your article is published Zayne is in the middle of a delicate surgery that takes him five hours and two hysterical family members of the patient—even with Evol involved. He emerges from the operating room with good news and exhausted-yet-relieved colleagues, Greyson's smile emerging from the doors the first indicator of a successful operation.

The patient's mother clings to him in tearful gratitude.

He orients the family on the next steps, and as he signs the healthcare forms he discovers a new slice of wound on the back of his hand, thin but lengthy. He has long since accepted that his hands, his arms, will forever be spattered with scars, and if that's the price he has to pay for saving lives, then it's of no consequence to him.

(Once, he had caught your gaze glued to his hands, so he snapped his fingers, startling you into looking at his face.

“What was that for?” you demanded.

“You're not paying attention.”

“I was just—” you bit your lip, torn. A pause, then: “Did they hurt—each one of them?”

He glanced down and studied each scar. Too many, you'd probably think. But not once had they bothered him.

“I never even noticed them in the first place, so no.”

“Okay.” Your eyes were crystal glass and the deep breath you took was stuttering in all its inelegance. “Okay.”)

A sliver of a break provides him the opportunity to sink into reprieve, and his hand gropes for his phone on the desk, peeking out under a sheaf of documents that he has to fill out later.

A cursory look at the screen, and then Zayne is leaping for the computer.

The research article you and your professor had written is kept behind a paywall. Zayne spares a moment to shut his eyes in irritation. He's fortunate that his university library account is still active, so he utilizes that privilege to gain access to the article’s full version, made available by the university’s database.

When the file loads, he syncs it to his tablet, after which he leans back on the chair and settles to read. He can locate which parts you had a hand in writing, and the parts where your style comes out. It isn't his field, but he has read enough to venture that the insights of this paper are valuable. Unwittingly, a proud smile surfaces on his lips.

At the end of the article, in the acknowledgment section, something is curiously written:

The co-author is grateful for the moral and medical support of Akso Hospital's Dr. Zayne. Dr. Zayne, would you like to have dinner with me? As a date. Yes, I'm asking you out.

Zayne’s mind blanks out and the itch returns, scrabbling at the walls of his skull, loud and frenetic and overwhelming all his senses. His entire body warms and the sensation of crawling needles prickle at his skin. Everything is white noise; his heart threatens to jump out of his ribcage. He gets the ridiculous thought that he can't perform a surgery on himself.

The next thing he knows, he's driving his car at the same time dialing your number. The car speakers amplify the ringing tone once his phone is attached to the dashboard. Both his hands tightly grip the steering wheel.

When the call connects, he opens with “What would you do if I hadn't read your article?”

He can practically hear the smile in your voice; it resounds around the car interior. “That's not an option, Dr. Zayne. You would have definitely read the article.”

Laughter bubbles up inside him; he tamps it down. “Confident now, are we?”

“Of course!” A pause; a shuffle of feet. You must be heading to another room. “I hear car engine, where are you now?”

“On the way to your apartment.”

“Wait, don't—go to this restaurant instead. I'll text you the address. I have it all reserved and ready.”

He blinks once, twice, surprise slackening the muscles on his face. “... You haven't even heard my answer yet.”

“You can tell me at the restaurant. And then we'll celebrate with excellent food, excellent wine, and scrumptious desserts.”

“You sound so certain about receiving a positive response.”

“I'm optimistic that way, Dr. Zayne. I'm heading out now—I'll see you in a bit!”

You hang up, and the speakers beep into silence. Two seconds later Zayne presses the hazard switch. The car slows down and then comes to a halt on the side of the road. Other vehicles zoom past him. Without the need to drive, Zayne can finally give in to the urge to exhale aloud and let out a brief yet astounded laugh, forehead pressing against the leather smoothness of the steering wheel.

You've always been transparent. But Zayne has made the crucial mistake of neglecting the fact that you are also clever. If this were a competition, you've already won.

▼

You're already at the restaurant when he arrives, sat on the corner facing the floor-to-ceiling windows, the shifting lights outside dancing over your serene profile. Your elbows rest on the table, where everything is already set up except the food. A vase of red roses at the center completes the picturesque scene.

You lift your head and welcome him with a triumphant grin once he's a few steps away. And when he settles on the chair opposite you, you lean forward and stare at him expectantly.

“You could have asked like a normal person,” Zayne begins.

“I could have,” you agree, nodding, “but I like it this way. I like to get closer to you through the things you do.”

Another moment of Zayne getting caught off-center: the warmth flushing outward from the core of his body like vibrant ink on clean, clear water. He has to lower his gaze from the sheer brilliance of your certainty, the way your patience and care have allowed this moment between the two of you, something that he has never imagined culminating like this: two people sitting opposite each other, in this softly lit restaurant while the world bursts into festive lights outside it. The tender way your hand moves across the table, stopping right before the flower vase, as if affording him the liberty to arrive at a decision Zayne has already made, many, many months (years) ago, just buried under the strata of responsibilities, boundaries, and improbabilities.

Never the when, never the how, never the why. It is, only, sublimely, this.

Zayne sighs with a rueful shake of his head. “It's not yet too late—maybe I should answer by publishing my own research article.” But the hand meeting yours belies his words.

Your smile: pleased, pleasure, like the sun emerging from the winter sky.

He's too occupied with the touch of your hand and the radiance of your expression that Zayne misses the throwaway comment that tumbles past his lips:

“If we're talking about getting closer through doing the things the other does, then I suppose I should propose to you when we're in the middle of a Wanderer invasion.”

And then he realizes what he just said.

Zayne whips his head up, heart in throat, and scrambles for an excuse. “What I meant was—”

“Getting ahead of ourselves now, are we?” Your face is pure indulgence, pure bliss. Your hand squeezes his, not letting go. “Don't worry, Dr. Zayne; I'm looking forward to it.”

And that lustrous smile, sustained. Zayne relaxes and you release him to clap your hands together, delighted.

“Now then! Shall we have our dinner?”

▼

(You have, indeed, delivered in all aspects: excellent food, excellent wine, and scrumptious desserts.)

[nightlyrequiem]

Omg for the mentally ill girlies out there what would she do with such if we were to not talk about it at all, but it's clear that we're struggling? (If you're okay with this type of request ofc you can deny)

I love this request! As someone who also suffers in silence (But only Irl I think I'm pretty vocal online.) it would be so nice to have someone notice. And that's what fictional characters are for. To project all your feelings and problems onto.

Valeria With a Struggling Partner

Valeria def got some mental illness of her own, no hate but you can’t lead a cartel and have everything be normal inside your brain.

That being said, she’s low on empathy. She can feel it, but it’s sort of distant for her, and she doesn’t feel it for everyone. She can do a lot of what she does because she both doesn’t care, and because of cognitive dissonance. Her first instinct to seeing you struggle would be frustration. She struggles and she’s completely fine. But she also does feel a little bad for you.

We all struggle differently, but I’m going to assume there’s some physical consequences. Maybe you’re not doing great and you’re falling behind on hygiene. Or maybe you’re doing so poorly that one day you just stop getting out of bed. Either way, she won’t let you do that.

She would force you out of bed and into the shower. Maybe even shower with you to help. Ways your hair or body for you. She loves you and as frustrated as she is, she does want to help. Sometimes even the act of standing in the shower is daunting so she’ll let you sit down in the tub while she cleans you. She won’t pry, you get one “what happened, what’s wrong” and it’s up to you to tell her. If you don’t she won’t ask again.

She’d notice if you stopped participating in your hobbies. I feel like she’d try to force you to start doing them again. Ignoring your protests. It doesn’t matter if you’re tired or if it feels like a chore, doing something you like is better than rotting away in bed. She’ll even do them with you if she can.

She might be good at using her words to comfort you. It might not be genuine but the intent is what matters. And at the end of the day, she’ll just lay with you, skin to skin. An easy way of showing support for you in your time of need. She knows it’s not easy to talk about what’s happening inside of your head because sometimes there isn’t any real explanation. She hopes it’s enough for her to just be there for you.

[the-one-who-lambs]

uhh hello!! sorry if this is a tall order LOL but I wanna ask, do you have any narilamb fanfic recs? :D I already read yours and I really like bamsara’s and I’m waiting for epicaandk’s to update (that one is my fav ever <3) but idk what to read now lol

Tall order?? Naaaaah, I'm always happy to give recs. Oh boy, I'm gonna go in reverse chronological order.

If you've read all of my narilamb fics (have you seriously? I'm impressed, that's probably well over half the 150k+ I've written for this damn fandom. Also, to anyone seeing this from a reblog, my stuff is over at onethirdofimpossible!) then here we go!

You already mentioned it, but The Rehabilitation of Death is excellent so far! This one is by @bamsara who is new to the CotL fandom but apparently not new to fanfic writing; they have a really popular FNAF fic and I assume the well-deserved attention this fic's been getting is a byproduct of the popularity they've already gotten in other fandoms. :D Welcome, bamsara! Many of the fic writers in this fandom are friends with each other already, but we don't bite if you wanna say hi.

Feel No Evil and Language Barrier, both by @payasita. I always love how payasita portrays this duo (in both digital art and writing), with so much sass and repressed loneliness, knowing they're stuck together for eternity and making the best of it. (And maybe falling in love, depending on how dense Narinder keeps being.) What makes these come alive for me is how well thought out the setting is outside the Lamb and Narinder. The descriptions and weight of emotions really pop here.

LITERALLY ANYTHING written by pavi / @i-eat-deodorant. Depending on how spicy you want your fics to be he has even more here. Character analysis, diction, pacing, etc. are consistently 10/10. Top-quality banter between a sassy Lamb and tired old man Narinder. We constantly bounce ideas off each other and inspire each other a lot but I promise I'm not hyping him up just because he's my friend oh my god please just go bless your eyes.

It Was For You, O Death by blueberry-muffin-massacre (if they have a tumblr, let me know so I can tag!). An intriguing alternative ending to the final battle wherein the Lamb chooses a secret third option by refusing to give up the Red Crown and still observing Narinder as the God of Death. So many details are so well thought out and duality their relationship is nicely characterized-- both genuine care for each other and also quite unhealthy. A fine line treaded well!

Confessional by jusmove (again, lmk if they have a tumblr). Been a while since I've read it, but I love how the Lamb chips at Narinder's very carefully built emotional walls. Their personalities are very well fleshed out here, especially Narinder's cognitive dissonance at being able to process love.

Confession by @thewitchoftheweed. I didn't expect a part two to this one, but my god I was so thrilled when it did update. Narinder and Lamb with their unique and parallel loneliness and their fucked-up sense of everything. Their relationship is very rocky here, and I love how they navigate it: with tension and eventual, pained acceptance. Mind the rating.

Of Character Development and Being Dense by @calliecature. A short and sweet narilamb classic. They're both mutually pining and one of them is too emotionally repressed to realize it. Guess who.

Not An Offering, But a Gift by @checkplzjuliet. Small confession fic. I especially love how Narinder's descriptions twist the knife of his situation here, and how Lambert is a total foil for him! There are a lot of good things happening in such a short span, which is impressive.

Also, if you think you've read all my narilamb fics... I do have a secret one out there too. Just so you know.

Happy reading!

I'm already friends with many of the people here, but if any of the writers I've tagged have been kinda wanting to reach out for a while but feel a little anxious... Don't be. I've made my best friends in this fandom by literally just waiting for some of my readers to get over whatever assumption they have that I'm cool and say hi. Or being the more confident one first.

[the-fandom-finder]

It think my main problem with some Izzy fans is they straight up lie or have extreme cognitive dissonance for stuff. “Izzy is more popular than ed/stede” no you were just around people who like is he more than them? I promise you the average person fandom or not does not like him more than the main characters. Also, just because he’s popular in the fandom doesn’t mean he’s a better character. You how many fandom I’ve been where they sent her around the white male character more than any other character? So often it’s a dime a dozen. He talks about how crazy Ed is before we even meet the character and when we meet him, he’s just a little suicidal at very least at that point. honestly even if he did survive, it would not make sense for him to be the captain of the ship. It’s canon that he’s not good at running anything and only really good at violence. he’s an interesting character meant to represent toxic masculinity at least in season one and how breakable and fragile it is. Honestly, him and Zuko have a lot in common when it comes to fandoms. These characters are both flawed and I’ve done bad things, but for some reason, some fans wanna make them look perfect like they’ve done nothing wrong and excuse everything that comes with the cost of completely miss characterizing everyone else around them. Man called the British, which are basically the cop because he didn’t get what he wants and view himself as knowing Ed more than himself which is messed up, bro. and the story portrays this as bad like it should be. Also, why are all the tags that were created to criticize Izzy taking over by Izzy fans like you asked for a specific tag and then take it over and then get upset when people use it. I also have seen fans on Twitter called themselves Ofmd hater and then spend all their time talking about the show. It’s OK to move on. It is not the Izzy show and never was. I have to rewash the show to remember Izzy‘s and actually interesting character because his fans have changed him so much that I can’t stand him if I don’t watch the show. There is a reason why people were being rude against the phantom for some stupid reason reasons or only a small group of people they named them and that weird little list they had. Now I don’t think any of the Izzy fan should be attacked or doxxed because that’s just weird and wrong. That doesn’t mean you can’t criticize them and how weird they are about this white man. I think it’s time for some of you who just have so much hatred of everything else in the TV show. Make an OC That’s like 2 inches away from that character and leave you’ll be much happier. Another problem I have is how some people treat David he’s not a perfect man nor perfect writer, but to go out of your way to say you understand the story infinitely more than him is crazy. He is shown multiple times he loves the character. This is just how he wanted to take him in the story not out of malice,, not out of homophobia not of hatred for disabled people, but because that’s how his story was always going to end he just got to die slightly less full of hate and may be a little happy. Izzy and ed had no chance of ending up together. The story basically states that pretty early that it was one-sided and not entirely healthy on either side. Also celebrating the show knocking a third season and people losing their jobs even though you were probably going to see Izzy again in some form is crazy.  I promise you your hate did nothing or brothers was just being a cheap ass and canceled other diverse shows so it definitely wasn’t because of you. Either way, I guess I win in the end. I still love the show and not full of anger at least about this. I got a lot of other problems lol. This post is probably way too long about something that doesn’t really matter too much but it feels good to get it out especially with finals coming around. If you read this entire thing and hate me well thanks for reading. I guess. Hope you have a nice day and I mean that genuinely life‘s kind of sucks right now for everyone lol.

[poppitron360]

i love epic too! and i think ur super smart so can you share any cool things that you noticed/learned about it?

So I think my favourite song in Epic in terms of the composition is probably Scylla.

Btw this analysis barely scratches the surface of the composition/production of this song alone. I could talk for hours about this.

Also if I use any words you don’t understand, please please please ask me to elaborate and explain further (please). I tried my best to make it as easy to follow as possible but I grew up around this stuff so I tend to under-explain things and assume everyone knows what I’m talking about.

Most of the time when you’re recording vocals, you record the singer singing the melody two or three times (this is called double-tracking, and it makes the voice sound richer and better) and then you record the harmonies in the same fashion.

But with Scylla, they just recorded the singer singing the melody a bunch of times, and then pitch-shifted some of it to the harmonic note. When using any kind of DAW (Digital Audio Workspace (Sidenote but from what I can tell from the vids, Jay uses GarageBand, which I believe is free for most devices)), manipulating a note- changing the tempo, or in this case, changing the pitch- of a naturally-recorded instrument like a singing voice will make it sound really artificial.

(I love this because it’s clear that Jorge doesn’t have the best equipment and he’s using it to his advantage. Something recorded on a crappy four-track tape recorder in your bedroom can sound so much cooler than something recorded at Real World Studios or Abbey Road with the world’s best recording equipment- but only if you know what you’re doing.)

Also, in the context of Epic, the more synthetic, artificial, and electronic sounds are reserved for the mythical characters- the gods and monsters.

Taking a quick re-listen to Scylla’s song, I’ve noticed she’s harmonising on the 3rd and 5th of the note (now, I don’t have perfect pitch (which is when you can tell what note it is just by ear) so I could be wrong).

This is a very simplified explanation, but basically any key has a scale, and most chords are comprised of the root (the first 1st note in the scale) the 3rd note, and the 5th note. You can add or take away extra notes to make it ✨sparklier✨.

So she’s harmonising on the 3rd and the 5th, and her harmonies are mostly moving in parallel motion (in the same way) with the melody. This gives a clean, sweet, consonant feel. (Consonant= not dissonant. Dissonant= “smushy”)

Most of the melody is conjunct (moving in steps- no big leaps) and also descending, like you’re falling down in steps with her. Then, at the end of each line rising back up again.

Except for “Deep down” which is disjunct (big leap), moving downwards. You are plunging into the depths.

This has a chilling simplicity to it. And the fact that it’s repeated over and over and over again makes it almost sickening. I love it.

What I love about this is the duality of simple, beautiful elements, and dark, haunting elements.

So! You have the combination of:

The main vocal melody being sung by a natural voice- imo showing how Scylla was once a beautiful nymph

The harmonies being sung by a pitch-shifted voice, giving it a strange, creepy, artificial, “mythical” sound to it- as established by the other uses of electronic instruments in Epic to show myth

Consonant harmonising on the notes of the chord, which is something we are trained to hear in music and feels very “right” and “natural”

The parallel motion of the harmonies, which give a simple feeling- you’re not being sent out in loads of directions. You’re falling down with her.

The descending nature of the melody taking you “deep down”, then rising back up.

The continuous repetition of this simple melody line

The fact that it’s sung in a minor (sad) key

Ultimately these two factors create a stark contrast- a juxtaposition- which creates a super cool and bone-chilling effect. The only thing I can relate it to is something akin to a creepy children’s nursery rhyme from a horror movie. It’s unlike any other song in Epic just because of how twisted it feels. This beautiful, creepy song being played as you hear Ody’s men screaming as she slaughters them

(While we’re on the topic of the screams, in music production there is this thing called “panning” which (if you’re listening in stereo and not mono) controls how much to the left or right the sound is coming from. This is why I love to listen to Epic, specifically this song, on headphones, because you can hear the men being gruesomely killed all around you.)

Also “Drown in your sorrow and fears/choke on your blood and your tears/bleed ‘til you’ve run out of years” is just a mood and a half (there’s a whole other post I could write for the literary analytics of the lyrics- how she uses imperative verbs. It’s a command. It’s an instruction.)

And so when Odysseus joins in with Scylla singing “We are the same you and I…” it really hits home just how much of a monster he’s become- how unfeeling he was when he sacrificed his men. This is so subtle but in my opinion it’s what really turns him. Jorge is using all of these contrasting techniques to make Scylla seem horrific and creepy as fuck, and Ody is empathising with her. He is relating to her. I just… *shivers* wow.

[eowynstwin]

Ayo... you by chance got any Ghost headcannons?

BOY DO I. Here’s what I want to talk about though:

I don’t think Ghost resembles the frankly weird, ultra-dom sex god that fandom has made him out to be. Man wears a mask, self-reportedly, even to sleep. That is LITERALLY the most repressed thing I can think of outside of the church itself.

That’s not to say I don’t think he’s great in bed, but it’s for different reasons that apply also to his overarching character. I think the Ghost persona allows him to be Simon without actually being Simon. The mask allows Ghost to trick himself, to say, “Simon Riley is dead and I am his Ghost” in order to deal with the cognitive dissonance he has of living with extreme trauma.

Soooo, Ghost is more expressive, more himself, really, with the mask on. He can do things as Ghost that Simon Riley just would not have the strength to do anymore. He can connect with his teammates, spend time doing things he enjoys, and yes, he can have and enjoy sex.

While I don’t prefer to rely on actors’ interpretations of the characters they played, I do agree with Samuel Roukin on this—Ghost doesn’t date. Dating is a game for people who are alive. Simon is not. Ghost is “not.”

When Ghost wants to get laid, he follows the age old tradition of picking someone up when he’s gone out for drinks. He’s not opposed to having sex with coworkers, I think, but what happens in the bedroom holds absolutely no bearing on his professional relationships with them.

Boundaries on the whole are sharp and immutable—don’t ask him about work. Don’t ask him about his past. He’s not there for you to get to know him. Follow those rules? He’ll do anything you want.

Mostly though, he fucks you like he wants your body to be unable to forget his. Ghost, for all his insistence to keep things casual, still longs for human connection. He has a hunger for people, for intimacy, born naturally out of an incredible lack of it. So if you do get him into bed, it will feel like Ghost is desperate for you, has wanted you for longer than he’s even known you.

Also, if you follow his rules, he’ll usually come back to fuck you again. Ghost doesn’t want anonymous, doesn’t want someone new every time. Knowing you, knowing your body, knowing what you can do together, is a part of the act that stems the tide of his loneliness. He is very perceptive, and enjoys making a mental catalogue of the things that wreck you. The only thing he enjoys just as much is when you show that you know, too, how to wreck him. It is a deep, ineffable satisfaction, having sex as a vehicle for knowing and being known.

He will overindulge—in his opinion. Ghost always thinks he’s talked to someone too much, spent too much time with someone, fucked someone for too long. It’s a byproduct of trauma borne of a difficult family life. Building something real with someone else represents a massive risk that has only proven detrimental to Ghost in the past—to Simon.

If he catches feelings, his instinct is to sprint in the other direction. He will withdraw, become hard to get into contact with. It is never out of cruelty on his part, and if you do manage to get ahold of him, he won’t snarl at you like his father snarled at him, snarled at his mother. But if you pressure him, demand his time, push him for what he has explicitly told you he will not give, then he will pull out the explanation that always works for him: “You know what this was.”

If you don’t pressure him though—if, when you get ahold of him, you just tell him that you’d like to see him again? That he’s always welcome? Ghost is drawn like a moth to a fucking flame. He’ll hate himself for it, for needing you, for being stupid enough to want you, but he won’t be able to help it. And he won’t stop himself, either.

Give Ghost time, and he will become your shadow. You will never need to look very hard to find him. You will never need to worry about being alone. There is nothing, when he is yours, that will keep him from coming back to you.

[quaranmine]

Re: your 2000 word fic

Jimmys relationship to the watchers is so interesting, especially compared to Martyn’s, because they’re in the same realm of thought with different means of approach (doubly if Martyn wasn’t born into the cult like Jimmy was).

Martyn’s realm of thought: God is real and hates me and I hate it back

Jimmy: God is real and everyone seems to hate that, and I’m not sure if I do

And like. Jimmy as a character is so [synonym of interesting] because he’s sort of a sheep. He has his own personality and opinions of course, but they are largely formed off of others and how they perceive him. Jimmy works well in group situations, but when he has to be alone, he flounders. So of COURSE when left in a high stress environment and isolated because of his red life, he’s gonna go back and try to find comfort in the gods that had a community. And Martyn, in turn, is going to see this and go “what the fuck are you doing, this isn’t good, the watchers are evil remember” to which Jimmy goes “they’re the only thing that loved me at face value”

Normal about this excited to see where this goes 👍

oh this ask is making me EXCITED again!

So, we're pretty close to the same page on this. Also this story is super duper AU to Evo. I'm keeping the same major story beats of things like 1) Martyn attempting to leave 2) the Listeners contacting them 3) the dragon fight & all of that 4) Jimmy being given a mission from the Listeners and 5) the Evolutionists leaving with the help of the Listeners. But the setting itself is very altered and the day-to-day life of the series is way different. (I.e. cult-commune.) It also won't be totally compliant with Martyn's eyesandears life series AU, just in the sense that I don't care enough to meticulously adhere to all the details. It'll just be kind of loosely influenced by all of the above.

You've also hit the same idea as me on Martyn not (fully) being raised in it. For what I wrote last night, Martyn was brought in to Evo with his family around age 12 ish, and allowed to continue outside education (Jimmy is very very homeschooled.) This basically means Martyn was old enough when introduced to the Watchers to not ever really be a true believer, and also a bit of a bad influence on Jimmy. Well, a good influence in this case. So Martyn definitely grows quite bitter about it as he gets older.

And in this case, when I say "true believer" I mostly mean that they believe in worshipping the Watchers and that they're a force for good. There isn't really much of a "are they real" for any of the Evolutionists because they demonstratively are. Now, for Life Series members who are not former Evolutionists, they may not realize Watchers exist at all. And for later in life, the Evolutionists may question if the Watchers are truthful in just how god-like they really are.

Anyway. Yeah Martyn's very much like "God is real and hates me and I hate it back."

Jimmy, at least in the backstory part I've written, is a lot more like "God is real and hates me because I'm a bad person, and I hate myself because I can't figure out how to be a good one." In this case, he feels super trapped in his incredibly sheltered life and questions a lot of stuff. But he knows he shouldn't question this. Doubting the Watchers is wrong. So he wants to be good. But he can't shake all of his, like, existential anxiety about being trapped. And then he hates himself more for that. He's kind of killing himself from the inside out with cognitive dissonance. He's finding it harder and harder every day to believe but he thinks that's his own personal shortcoming.

Martyn has kind of arrived at a "I need out because the Watchers suck." He has more anger about the situation and less self-hatred. Jimmy is not there yet and is instead more like "the Watchers are right and good and I'm the problem."

(This is also pretty in line with your comment of Jimmy being kind of a sheep--he is struggling much more than some of other former Evolutionists to put aside how he was raised.) (I haven't mentioned Grian much but I think he was also raised in it like Jimmy, but unlike Jimmy he's pretty defiant of the Watchers. Which gets him nothing good in the end.)

It doesn't help that being constantly literally watched is like psychological torture? No wonder the guy's mentally ill. Which I think feeds into the eyesandears concept of Watchers feeding on negative energy. Jimmy's general existential distress is like catnip to them.

And like, he DOES join the Listeners. They DO leave Evo. He does leave, and live normally. But that doesn't mean that he comes out of his choice to turn his back on the Watchers unscathed, and that he doesn't feel guilty. I think the "I'm the problem" mindset leaves him vulnerable to going back to worshipping the Watchers again later. He still carries this deep seated sense that they're right.

So when the Watchers strike back, and he's placed over and over in horrible circumstances like death games, at some point it's all got to snap right?

"they’re the only thing that loved me at face value” - it's completely untrue and exactly the type of thing he still believes. He's the one that left, after all.

[runawaymun]

i'm very obsessed with your depiction of Song in and the stars shine the same. you write it with such a different feel for each character, if that makes sense? especially since it's always been to me such a difficult concept to portray well in fic. i've been wondering, what do you think everyone's Singing is like, if you've thought about it? whether just as like the general feel to it to a bystander/listener, or just purely sound qualities, like i seem to remember glorfindel's baritone singing voice as a thing a lot of people would write.

i'm very sorry if this was asked/discussed before however i am...well not *new* but it's been years since i was active around lotr/silm tumblr. i am rapidly getting pulled back in to fan spaces it would seem. anyways. <3

Ahhhh oh wow! What a cool ask this is! Thank you so much. Playing with Song and Music and Themes in my fics is one of my favorite things to do. Songs of Power are just soooo damn cool I can't help myself. I'm sorry it's taken me so long to respond to this, I've just been trying to compile my thoughts! Buckle up cause this is gonna get kind of long.

Elrond is easiest for me to nail down for obvious reasons. I've dug into his Music the most out of everyone, but it feels different to different people. For a lot of elves it can be very overwhelming because there is just SO much going on in his Theme. A lot of syncopation and dissonance (in the best possible way. Just super fun note combinations). Usually his Music is quite steady and calming. Generally I think of his actual singing voice to sound like Colin O'Malley does in Thomas Bergensen's Sonera. Strong and open-sounding and just....the slight rasp but like it's still so gorgeous and hngggggg. Though, with Rings of Power (or just a younger) Elrond specifically I imagine more like Reeve Carney's voice -- especially as Orpheus in Hadestown. Again you get that bright, open sort of voice but there's a sweetness and a vibrato to Reeve's voice that I just adore for a young Elrond!

Gil-Galad is another character whose music I have thought about a whole bunch (mostly in contrast to Elrond's, due to To Partake), and he has a very even quarter-time beat and just. Idk he sounds and feels so orderly and steady and kind of brassy to me. I don't have headcannons on his singing voice, though.

Celebrimbor also has an even quarter-time beat but his music is more relaxed and there's room in it for play. Like it has a swing beat every once in a while, and in general he just has this very big, open, echoing feeling. Like he is just huge idk. Music that just thunders around your ears in the best possible way. I also don't have a headcannoned sound for his singing voice yet but in general I think it would be pretty low.

Maglor is different for me depending on pre or post Oath, in terms of his actual Theme. Pre Oath there is a lot of interest and complexity, and post Oath that sort of gets drowned out by the overlaying Theme of the Oath (which feels horribly loud, with this plodding sort of beat that gets faster and faster the more Oath-madness is upon the Feanorians). His singing voice is like Joey Batey from The Amazing Devil. The way that Joey is capable of singing with this gorgeous, soulful, sweet voice and then he can turn on a dime to sound like he's about to tear someone to shreds and you're pretty sure that nobody should be able to sing THAT fucking loud without breaking their vocal chords? The RANGE? The way his voice just sends shivers up your spine? Yeah. Maglor.

Galadriel I don't have much on because she is kind of an enigma to me. But I think there would definitely be an aspect of her Theme that would put you on edge. As far as her singing voice go, I actually wrote Convergence I while listening to "Sonera" and yeah the male voice in Sonera I headcannon as Elrond, and the female voice I headcannon as Galadriel for that specific scene. In general though, I tend to hear her voice as sounding like Kate St. Pierre in Hurt by Thomas Bergensen.

Celebrian has a lot of strings and flutes in her theme to me. It's orderly but more like a 3/4 time signature. The kind of thing you want to dance to or listen to while you're taking a long walk. Mostly high notes. Her singing voice sounds like the the female part in Sun and Moon (which I would like to find out who that is but unfortunately I can not seem to find her credited anywhere). Like it's pretty but there's this sort of untamed edge to her voice, just a bit. (Also I am a big fat nerd about Sun and Moon because a) Cel and Elrond are sun and moon coded to me and b) the male voice which is actually the song's composer sounds CLOSE enough to my headcannoned Elrond singing voice that I can sit back and imagine they're singing a duet haha)

Arwen is like a mix between her parents. She's got that 3/4 beat like Cel but there IS a bit of syncopation from Elrond in there, but similar sort of harps/strings vibes. Purple, to me. I do not know how to explain what purple even means or sounds like in this context asdlkgh. But her voice sounds like Eurielle - very much thinking about Luthien's Lament, specifically.

I unfortunately do not have a lot of headcannons for Elladan and Elrohir yet but we'll get there quite shortly with boundless sky.

Luthien has the sort of voice that will just fucking blow your socks off. I know she sang Morgoth to sleep blah blah but girl has power in that voice and the world's most ridiculous range. I am thinking specifically of ghost love score. And yes, her Theme sounds like orchestral metal. Sauron fucking hates it.

Morgoth is jazz. That is all I have to say on that.

That's all of the people I have nailed down as to what they sound like! Thank you SO much for this ask. It was so much fun to respond to!

[prolix-yuy]

Chapter 3: That Was the First Time I Lost Her

Pairing: Jack “Whiskey” Daniels x F!Reader “Sugar”

Summary: It only takes a little digging.

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: More angst, insinuations of creep behavior, making shit up about Westworld, a million questions and no answers, will be E in later chapters so full series is 18+ MINORS DNI.

Notes: Sugar's got some soul-searching to do, and there are very few people who can help her with that. Where Cognitive Dissonance had a lot more Westworld characters in it, this series is gonna have a few cameos from Kingsman characters and you better believe this is one of my favorites. Enjoy!

Cross-posted on AO3

Decoherence Masterlist   ||   Whiskey & Westworld Masterlist

It takes you three weeks before you say anything about Jack to anyone. Three weeks of going back and forth from your job, sitting in front of the large glass screen your work is projected on. Three weeks of seeing the world you live in - advanced far beyond Sweetwater’s rustic charm - in a new light, knowing there’s someone living in it that feels so out of place. Now, you feel out of place too. 

In that time you argue with yourself back and forth over what happened that fateful morning.

He’s a delusional man who violated your trust.

But he didn’t act delusional. Didn’t try to push you to come with him, didn’t try to get your number or find out where you live. He gave you a way to contact him, but didn’t press when you didn’t promise to.

But how did he find you?

That thought twists your stomach. Had he used some database to scour personal records for you? Had he been trailing you and you never even noticed? It clearly didn’t go to plan for him, but what had he planned? 

He wants to “explain.”

The most you would do is call him. Only to tell him to be prepared for a lawsuit. Maybe to scream at him a little more about how violated you felt. Definitely not because you want to know what he could possibly say to make this make sense.

Why are you entertaining this?

This is where you always come to a halt. You can reason around most of your internal arguments, make good decisions that would make your parents proud, but it’s when you get to this question - why are you still thinking about this? - that you falter. 

Because his plea - let me explain - and the furtive way he looked at you - I am a host - tug at something you hid away for the year since you saw him. That there was something more to Jack, but not this obvious of a betrayal. 

I didn’t get to tell you something that night. Something important. 

He tried to tell you something that day on the train platform. What was it?

I was a coward, and I wanted you more than anything Sugar. 

He was going to tell you he loved you. And it was going to shatter your heart to hear it, so you showed him the photograph. Because it would hurt less to prove him a fantasy. You forced him to reveal the machine behind the man, because he was going to tell you he loved you.

Right?

But if this is the last moment I get to say it before you leave my sight, I have to. 

I need you to know.

Was this it?

It’s Dina that helps you gain some clarity, though not in a way you imagined.

“I had my trip to Westworld refunded, ruined my whole vacation,” she says nonchalantly over lunch. The “cool bridesmaids” actually stuck together after the bachelorette, and you see Dina every few months for a boisterous lunch and catch-up. This particular revelation, two weeks after Jack sauntered into your life and left you with a handful of mirror shards for memories, makes you choke on your drink. 

“You were going back?” you finally ask once you can breathe again. Dina smiles knowingly, swirling her iced matcha latte loudly in her glass. 

“I’ll admit, it’s pretty fun. Only went once since the party, it’s damn expensive, but I was really looking forward to my third visit. Sounds like there’s some operational issues.” You listen with as much nonchalance as you can muster, but Dina smiles coyly at your ruse. “Didn’t see your man there last time. Maybe he was just for you.” 

You scoff, a clammy sweat on the back of your neck sending goosebumps down your arms.

“They probably rotate them,” you say weakly, thumb smearing away a drip of coffee from the lip of your cup. 

“Listen, baby, maybe this isn’t my business, but if Jack still gets you this fired up, it might be worth talking to someone about it,” she says gently. Your heart leaps into your throat, worrying that your face has given it all away.

“What, like a therapist?” you laugh, trying to put on a bright smile but you’re practically thrumming now. Dina scoffs instead.

“Hell no, my girl Ginger. She used to work for Delos, doing…programming or something. One conversation with her will definitely ruin the magic for you. Like seeing Mickey without his head on in Disneyland.” You both giggle at the image, trying to school yourself into a calm that won’t betray how close to the truth she is.

“She left on bad terms, so she’ll tell you the truth about shit. Doesn’t care about her NDA, or much else for that matter. She’s a badass,” Dina says, scrolling through her phone and typing quickly. “Ask her your questions, get your dreams dashed, and move the fuck on.” Dina means well, but the worry gnawing in your stomach draws much of your attention away.

Former Delos staff could definitely tell her if Jack was a host, or a fucked-up guest, or a host based off a guest that is now playing a terrifying game of switcheroo. 

“Promise she won’t think it’s weird?”

“She loves to dish about it, you’ll be making her week.”

Ginger doesn’t want to meet in a public place - I’ve seen a little too much of what can be done to risk it - so she invites you to her condo instead. You almost back out, shame and nerves getting to you, but the need to know grows at a greater pace. So, bringing two coffees and pastries (not from the shop where you saw Jack, you don’t think you could go back there), you climb her third floor walkup.

She’s business chic with a dazzling smile, a collared shirt under a sweater with dark-washed jeans. Her hair is spiked through with honeyed highlights that compliment her brown skin. A pair of serious horn-rimmed glasses frame her face, but look fresher on her than any academic. 

“Hi, I’m Dina’s friend,” you start as Ginger leads you into her home. Dina mentioned she was a programmer, and her design aesthetic screams “I care more about my processor chips than artwork.” Stacks of hard drives on tables, large manuals of computer code on shelves, all neat and tidy in a controlled chaos way. She brings plates for the croissants as you sit at her table, rolling your opening remarks in your mind as she settles across.

I had a strange experience in Westworld that made me question everything. Can you tell me if I’m crazy or not?

Before you get the chance Ginger speaks. 

“Dina told me a bit about your situation,” she says simply, regarding you with rapt attention and sparking intelligence. The confusion must have slapped across your face, because Ginger barks out a laugh just shy of impolite. “I made her spill the beans, I’m too suspicious otherwise.” 

You sigh audibly, covering your face with your hands.

“Great, now I’m just pitiful,” you bemoan, joining in on the laughter. Slouching back in your chair, you share a look that radiates I guess we’re here now.

“So, you had questions about hosts. Maybe one in particular. I haven’t worked for Delos in a few years, but I’ll do my best to help. God knows those assholes keep their mouths shut tighter than their assholes,” Ginger says, waiting for you to lay out your questions. So many bubble up, but you let the most important come to the forefront:

“How can you tell a host is a host?”

Ginger’s smile turns conspiratorial, cocking her head to one side.

“One really got to you, huh? Made you think he - or she - was real?” 

You twist your hands in your lap, shoulders tensing for laughter.

“It’s silly, right? A host is a host and a person is…completely different.”

Ginger talks as she darts around the room, gathering items - a laptop from a desk, a silver and orange hard drive, a handful of cords. She gestures with her hands while she speaks, face softening with the passion that shines through,

“It’s a testament to how well we programmed them. They’re supposed to trick you, keep you in the illusion. I was more in design and aesthetics, moved into expressive programming before they culled my team.” When she catches your eye, the first etchings of confusion on your face, she backtracks. “I designed the exteriors - faces, bodies, you know - before I moved into writing code for their facial expressions and body language. Cram years of what we as humans would observe and develop over a lifetime into a little computer chip. They learn too, just not the same sorts of things. They’re designed to interpret our body language, give us what we need before we think we need it.”

What had Jack read from your body?

Ginger plops down at the table, fingers moving quickly over the keys and eyes trained on the glowing screen. 

“But Delos axed my team, said something about ‘new coding avenues,’ the assholes. Just didn’t want to pay us if they could automate us. But!” She hits the last key and folds her arms, finally looking at your nervous posture. “They didn’t pay me well enough for my IP, so I took everything I could get my hands on. Most of it’s too outdated for them to care about, but I’m pretty goddamn proud of it.”

She motions for you to sit on the same side of the table as her, waiting until you’re settled to drag a window onto the screen. It looks like tiny image thumbnails all neatly stacked, face after face scrolling by.

“So who is it?”

You steel yourself for whatever answer may come next.

“Jack Daniels.”

Waiting for a confused noise, for a bad search return, for some reason to hate the man who came back to you, instead you get a knowing laugh.

“Ah, I’m pretty proud of that one,” she says, typing in Jack’s name and pulling up a profile. “I was going through a very dashing cowboy phase, wanted something a little Burt Reynolds, a little Robert Conrad, flirtatious but a disaster at it, smooth talker.” As she talks she tabs through sketches, achingly beautiful pencil drawings of his hawkish nose, the pout of his lower lip, the tilt of his head up to look at something. 

“Then fucking Sizemore dumped him in that shitty Golden Circle timeline, which was a goddamn waste. Gave him a terribly written, cliched backstory and half-assed his motivation to make a shockingly underthought double cross villain arc seem edgy.” Ginger pauses on a dystopic photo, Jack standing in a glass and concrete cube, hand on his jutted hip and a smile you’ve been in the path of aimed right into the camera. You can almost hear his voice.

You can have all the Whiskey you want.

“Our cowboy deserved better than that,” she sighs. Managing to break from your reverie, you try not to stumble too badly through the most important questions.

“And he’s not…based on anyone else? There’s no Jack lookalike wandering the streets?” You try to make it airy, joking, unsure of your success. Thankfully Ginger skims right over the tremor in your voice, tapping into a file that details every scar and freckle over the expanse of his skin.

“If only. Unfortunately, the best men are designed by women. I’ve never met someone quite like Jack.”

Neither have you, and the implication settles heavy in your chest. 

You spent an hour more with Ginger, peeking into the secret workings of Delos and picking at flaky pastries without appetite. It’s more out of politeness than interest. Half of the things she shows you flow right through your consciousness and into the ether. 

Jack is a host. 

From the mouth of his…creator? Herself?

Maybe that combination of features could find its way in nature, but not his story, or the intimate details you both know in very different contexts. The groove she drew in his lower lip pulled softly across your stomach. The graphite glint in his eyes lifting to capture yours. The thick strokes that built a hand you’d felt hold your face so gently. 

Ginger knew him as well as you did, certainly more so, and there was no better explanation for what this means. 

He’s not a man. So what is he doing here? How is he here, in a world you never thought he could enter? 

Thanking Ginger for her hospitality and her patience, you take the longest way home possible. The rhythmic beat of your feet on concrete lets you ruminate. The air is warm across your cheeks, errant breezes dancing around your aimless path. The “park” has never been your favorite place to soul search, the lack of trees and tightly governed shrubs clashing against what you consider wilderness. Today, however, it’s so stark and blank as to clear your mind.

If not a host in a world built for pleasure, what is Jack? How can he survive in this world without a narrative, a directive, a fucking charging port for his battery? Does he run on batteries or did they slap a solar panel in that gorgeous head of hair?

Dropping onto a bench you bury your face in your hands, fighting the urge to laugh madly. You've seen under the facade and now you’re left with even more questions, and there’s only one person who can answer those. 

“Jack Daniels.”

“Hi. It’s…”

“Hey. It’s…it’s you.”

“Yeah, it’s me. I’m sorry I didn’t call sooner.”

“I didn’t know if you would at all, after all that.”

“I wasn’t sure either.”

There’s a pause while you gather courage, but Jack jumps in first.

“Listen, I just wanted to say I’m sorry about last time. I saw you and I meant to sneak out before you saw me, but…it was just a perfect mess, huh?”

Right to the meat of it then. Somehow that makes it easier.

“Did you know I would be there?”

Another silence, but you wait for this one to end. Jack sighs heavily, and your body aches.

“I knew you could be there.”

“And you were…what? Waiting to get up the courage to talk to me?”

“Something like that.” Jack sucks in a breath. “I had some questions of my own. I wasn’t sure I wanted the answers.”

This admission dazes you. All Jack knew of you in Westworld was a lie. The footing feels more even knowing he’s just as trepidatious as you. 

You sigh deeply, pressing the palm of your hand against your forehead.

“I think I should let you explain.”

A softer sigh tickles your ear.

“I’d really like to do that, Sugar.”

You scoff.

“You still call me that.”

“Sweetest thing I’ve…”

“Please, Jack. Don’t. Not right now.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s not…I’m not sure how I feel about everything yet. This is all frankly terrifying to me, and I need some time to understand it.”

“I understand. I had a feeling this wasn’t going to be the same rodeo as before.”

Lips curling up, you warm to his words. Same old west charm. Same teasing lilt. 

Same old Jack, but maybe more than you thought.

“Can I see you Friday?”

PREVIOUS NEXT

[toomanytookas]

March Fic Madness: Reading List

Thanks again to @the-blind-assassin-12 for creating the March Fic Madness challenge!

I've already posted my stats for the challenge over on this post, but here's a list of what I read!

I find that, for me, lists without any description end up leading to decision paralysis/having to click a lot of links without knowing where you're going, so I've tried to provide a super brief summary of each fic as a taster (obvs more info is provided by the author on each fic’s actual page). If you're an author whose work is listed here and feel I've misrepresented your fic, let me know and I can change the little blurb, it's obviously not my intention to do your work dirty! <3

List is alpha sorted by character then by author.

Dieter

stay sexy and don’t get murdered - @chronically-ghosted- oneshot > Against the backdrop of a murder mystery, the reader and Dieter resolve some relational conflict and lean into their mutual feelings.

vamp!dieter drabble - chronically-ghosted - oneshot > Vampire!Dieter permits journalist!reader an interview. There’s a “Say it. Out loud.” moment.

the howler monkey - @covetyou - oneshot in series > Dieter struggles with some strong feelings and is comforted by his PA.

Laminated - @katareyoudrilling - oneshot > Dieter’s asking around the hotel for sex and his vasectomy seals the deal for the reader.

Go Play Your Video Games - @kedsandtubesocks - oneshot > Reader is a cozy video game streamer and Dieter, still a famous actor, is a fan.

One Day at a Time - @rebel-held - chaptered (ongoing) > Reader is a tutor for a young actor on the set of Dieter’s current flick.

The Kit Kat Trilogy - @schnarfer - series (complete) > Reader and Dieter hooked up 10 years ago and meet again at Christmastime.

Purple Haze - schnarfer - oneshot > 60s fashion photographer Dieter does a shoot with model!reader.

lost, found - @sp00kymulderr - oneshot > Reader comforts Dieter when he is (re)confronted with his family's homophobia.

dieter x poppy oneshot - @wildemaven - oneshot related to chaptered fic > Smutty lil’ footjob after a long day. Part of the Sweet Creature universe.

Ezra

A Girl Walks Into A Bookshop - @oonajaeadira - chaptered (complete) with an open followup series > Post Prospect. Ezra owns a bookshop and he and the reader fall in looooooooooove.

Frankie

frost on the windows, flowers in the bed - @5oh5- chaptered (ongoing) > Both reader and Frankie have travelled to Paris for a reset. They hook up at a bar on NYE.

in another life - chronically-ghosted - oneshot > Smutty, domestic slice of life oneshot.

All For You - @goodwithcheese - chaptered (complete) > Childhood friends reconnect at their 25 year high school reunion.

Hold Fast - @jeewrites - chaptered (ongoing) > Reader is a physician by day, powerlifter by night and meets Frankie through Pope’s gym.

Tommy’s Party - @luxurychristmaspudding - chaptered (complete) > Angsty (ANGSTY) roommates to lovers.

Lions Ain't the Kind - @qveerthe0ry - chaptered (ongoing) > Developing early relationship ft. subby!Frankie.

Dial Drunk - schnarfer - oneshot > Childhood friends who shared one intimate night reconnect and begin to dream of a better life together.

Jack

Cognitive Dissonance & Decoherence - @prolix-yuy - chaptered (complete) > WestWorld injected with a sentient host Jack.

losin' you - wildemaven - oneshot > The beginnings of reconciliation between exes at a rodeo.

Javi P.

Paranoid Heart - goodwithcheese - chaptered (complete) > Two souls who are a bit too worldly wise for Laredo meet through their parents and fall for one another. [Still working my way through this one!]

Seen - katareyoudrilling - oneshot > Older reader refuses to take Javi’s flirty attitude at face value, but finds the man behind the bravado appealing.

Go Your Own Way - schnarfer - oneshot > The development and decline of a complicated romance with young fuckboy Javi.

Joel

No outbreak/fully alternate universe AUs

Maintenance Request - @burntheedges - chaptered (ongoing) > Lit prof reader and [official title redacted] Joel meet as he works on facilities maintenance and landscaping around campus Helen - @kiwisbell - chaptered (ongoing) > John Wick AU but where the wife character lives and angst about revelations of the past ensues. nervous joel oneshot - wildemaven - oneshot > Joel is feeling anxious about satisfying the reader during their first time together.

Jackson AUs

Seams - @fuckyeahdindjarin - chaptered with additional series oneshots (ongoing) > Seamstress reader meets Joel when he needs help with his pants and the flirty beginnings of a relationship bloom. baby, i'm yours - @joelsgreys - oneshot > Joel has insecurities about being good enough for the reader. You Brought Me Poison Flowers - @ohforficsake - chaptered (ongoing) > OC Lennie runs the Jackson apothecary. we've got one thing in common, it's this tongue of mine - @youcancallmeelle - series (two parts, of which this is one) > A fun clandestine relationship.

Post-Outbreak AU

safe and sound - @janaispunk - chaptered (ongoing) > Joel & Ellie crash land at the reader’s home post Joel getting stabbed.

Lucien

this high of you & me - kedsandtubesocks - oneshot > Dealer!Lucien shotgunning with reader.

Hungry Eyes - @missredherring - oneshot > Ex!Lucien observes the changes in reader's confidence at a party where she’s with her new beau.

Marcus P.

Only for you - burntheedges - oneshot > Established early relationship. Reader has a variety of piercings that Marcus finds exciting.

All About the Bass - katareyoudrilling - oneshot > Musicians!reader and Marcus meet at community orchestra rehearsals.

Headshots - @secretelephanttattoo - series (complete) > Photographer!reader is hired to take headshots for the FBI and meets Marcus. Series covers their relationship over several years.

Wash Day - secretelephanttattoo - oneshot > Established early relationship. Marcus washes the reader's hair.

Third Time’s the Charm - the-blind-assassin-12 - series (complete) > Marcus and reader navigating their early relationship while he travels for work and settles into life in DC.

Shane & Tim

bloody kisses by @perotovar - chaptered (ongoing) > Shane’s gay awakening is full of angst and a bit of getting into trouble. He gets help (and eventually help? 👀) from one Det. Tim Rockford.

[magefeathers]

Sleep Token Analysis: ONE

To my continuing surprise people seem to like my Sleep Token thoughts, so I guess I should start posting my song interpretations. 

I wrote about my interpretation of Sleep itself here, and while I'd love for you to read that as well, it isn't required reading for my song interpretations. The only really important thing to know is that I don't interpret the music as being about Sleep, regardless of what you personally view Sleep as.

I have a very grounded/realistic/logical way of interpreting things, because that's just the way my brain works, but I want to make it clear that I'm not trying to analyze or decipher anything about Vessel's actual human life in the real world. I think there's a narrative being told, that is shared primarily through emotional responses to events rather than events themselves being portrayed, and the narrative composed by any interpretation of these emotional responses may or may not be an actual reflection of any real events that may have inspired them. I have no clue, and I have no desire to find out. So, for the sake of remaining within the narrative, I will refer to the person singing as the narrator, and the person being sung about as the subject. If I use the name Vessel, I'm referring to him as a third person writer – best way I can explain how I think about it is, the narrator is Lemony Snicket, while Vessel is Daniel Handler (the real author). No part of this is meant to be dissecting his actual life, only the characters in the narrative.

Disclaimer aside, onto the analysis! 

THREAD THE NEEDLE

Bury me inside this Labyrinth bed We can feel that time is Dilated

There are a number of instances across the discography where the context in which something is presented and the tone in which it's sung doesn't quite match the implication of the actual words. It's harder to pick up on than more blatant lyrical dissonance (as in the original version of Hey Ya) because a lot of the lyrics are so cryptic to begin with, so you have to really think about what he's saying to pick up on the dissonance. 

Saying you want to be buried somewhere seems like a positive thing (I want to spend eternity here), but labyrinths tend to symbolize confusion and struggling to find your way, searching for the right path. So in saying ‘bury me inside this labyrinth bed’ he's asking… to spend forever in a place that causes confusion and uncertainty? 

Likewise, to say that time is dilated in this seemingly complimentary context is an interesting choice, because when something is dilated that means it's been expanded, and normally it's a negative thing when we say that time feels like it's just stretching on and on. But if the narrator wants to spend eternity here, it must be meant to be a good thing, especially if the narrator and the subject are spending the night in fascination.

One possibility is that he was thinking about it in a less literal sense and more in the sense of your pupils dilating when you look at someone you love, but I tend to lean more toward believing this dissonance is intentional. Perhaps it's because time feels dilated in this place that he's resigned to spending eternity here: he already feels trapped, so why not simply choose to stay? Regardless of the reasons why the narrator might want this, the dissonance tells us that what the narrator is idealizing isn’t actually healthy, or as good as he thinks it is.

It might seem like a bit of a jump for the first set of lyrics, but when taken in the context of the rest of the discography, I feel like this is about the tendency to wallow in one's own misery, to make your depression and trauma a fundamental part of who you are and revel in them, rather than trying to heal. Change is hard; the confusion and uncertainty and the pain they bring are all familiar and comfortable, and that's why the narrator wants to stay with them.

We can spend the night in Fascination You can thread the needle Time and time again

I had only ever heard the phrase ‘threading the needle’ in a mostly literal context, referring to anything to the effect of navigating through a narrow opening. So I googled the phrase to make sure I understood it fully, and apparently it can also mean, “to find harmony or strike a balance between conflicting forces, interests, etc.” 

So with the phrasing of this – we can spend the night in fascination, you can thread the needle – it makes me wonder, if the subject is the one finding this harmony, what are the conflicting forces at play here? Again taking the rest of the discography into context my most realistic assumption is that the subject is bringing peace to the conflict the narrator feels within himself, between his mind and his mental illness. As I personally read a lot of signs of pre-existing familial trauma in later music, it could also be that the subject feels like a safe haven from the conflict of the narrator's home life. 

You turn the lights down Come on and find out

An invitation extended to the subject; he's already said I want to spend forever here, now he's saying I want you to join me. Come and spend the night in fascination with me. I want you in this labyrinth with me because you bring me peace. If I'm going to be lost forever, I want to be lost with you.

Now. It's perhaps worth mentioning that the narrator inviting the subject to turn the lights down and join him in a labyrinth bed to spend the night in fascination can certainly be read in a suggestive manner, and I want to clarify that although I see the innuendo there, and I do think it's an intentional innuendo, I don't actually think any of this is about sex. I think Vessel as a writer sometimes uses very sensual or suggestive phrasing to convey a level of intimacy that many people instinctively associate with sex, even though he isn't talking about sex. There's this ongoing theme across the discography of the narrator wanting to know the subject inside and out, including the parts of themself that they hide from the rest of the world, and I think there's an intimacy to that level of allowing someone into your inner world that goes deeper than just sex. I think he's just using the trappings of sexiness to set this stage of intimacy, because, y’know, sex sells and whatnot.

Something to confide in Something to erase Just look at where we're lying An invisible space

Not someone to confide in, but something, steering away from the more common usage of the word. I feel like the narrator is still trying to convince the subject to join him in this invisible space, this metaphorical labyrinth – which is probably the fields of elation from the next song. There's a lot of similarities between Thread the Needle and Fields of Elation that lead me to believe that they're sort of different versions of the same song, or different songs telling the same story, however you want to think about it. So I think these lines are telling the subject what this dreamscape has to offer: it's something they can believe in and have faith in, something that can erase the woes of the real world.

We can spend the night in Fascination You could thread the needle Time and time again

Also worth mentioning is that in the original myth of the labyrinth, the only way the hero of the story, Theseus, could find his way out of the labyrinth was by using a ball of thread given to him by the Princess Ariadne, who had fallen in love with him. So between you can thread the needle and nobody else can pull me out hopefully you can see why I think this figurative ‘labyrinth bed’ and the ‘fields of elation’ are one and the same. The fields of elation, most commonly interpreted as some sort of dreamscape and the domain of the deity Sleep (although you’ll know how I feel about that if you read my interpretation of Sleep), are the narrator’s personal labyrinth, one he wants to get lost in and is inviting the subject to wander endlessly with him, but… does the subject want to?

It's at this point that the music gets louder and arguably quite tense. I'll be the first to admit I know nothing about actual music theory, but I am generally able to recognize when the sounds being used are meant to make the listener feel anxious or tense, and that's the impression I get from the music here. This is just an assumption, of course, but given how prevalent this dichotomy is on One – between dreamy, ethereal lyrics with sparse and gentle music behind them and then wordless sections with heavy, intense, music – I feel like it's an intentional choice, perhaps to show the contrast between the peace the narrator feels with the subject and the anxiety/depression/abuse/etc that permeates the rest of his life. Or, perhaps, this tension is indicative of the confusion and uncertainty found within the labyrinthian fields of elation, and the whole reason the narrator wants the subject to join him there is to quiet or calm this storm.

If I’m following my interpretation from earlier of the narrator’s wish to stay in this dreamscape being a metaphor for choosing to wallow in one’s depression, perhaps these invitations to the subject are a request to be met where he is rather than forced outside of his comfort zone? It could also relate back to the recurring theme I mentioned earlier, of the narrator wanting to know the subject inside and out, even the parts of theirself they hide from the rest of the world. Maybe these invitations for the subject to join him in this dreamscape – arguably his inner world, whether you look at it as a literal dream world or a metaphor for his depression – are a way of offering to let them in, and share the parts of himself that he hides from the world. Regardless, it’s a request which I don’t think goes over well, judging by how the song ends.

You turn the lights down Come on and find out You turn the lights down Come on and find out

The repetition of this line, these invitations to the subject, leads me to believe the subject has not taken this invitation. The narrator wants to share his inner world, his dreams, his life, with the subject, but his repeated invitations seem to fall on deaf ears. The way the tense music cuts out very suddenly into this repeated line, and then goes straight back into the heavier music with steadily growing tension makes me believe the narrator's first invitation was likely ignored. After some time away from the subject, dealing with whatever conflict exists in his life outside the subject (the tension in the music), he eventually decides he can't take it on his own anymore and comes back to offer his invitation again, only to be either ignored or rejected once more. The way the music simply fades out at the end of the song rather than coming to a concrete end makes me lean more toward the invitation being ignored – there is no closure, no solid answer.

Nothing about this song leads me to believe that the narrator and the subject are actually in a committed relationship. I have mixed feelings about the common belief that the whole of the discography is about one singular toxic relationship, but I tend not to get into it because it doesn’t really matter much in the grand scheme of things. Whether the subject is one toxic partner (or romantic interest) that the narrator keeps going back to or there are multiple subjects signifying multiple toxic relationships over the years, the narrative remains the same: the narrator is stuck in a cycle of abuse. As mentioned before, I’m not trying to analyze Vessel’s actual life in any way, so I generally think it’s worth assuming one subject for the sake of The Narrative. However, it is difficult for me to align my interpretation of One with the rest of the discography because it reads so distinctly like a relationship that never was, to me. I feel like the relationship explored within One is either entirely self-contained within the EP, or takes place very, very early in the relationship with the subject of the album trilogy.

FIELDS OF ELATION

The daylight recedes in unison, this room Buries the hours like death, in motion Nobody else can pull me out The fields of elation, quiet and loamy

The opening of this song is very reminiscent of the opening of the previous song. The daylight receding is obviously a reference to nightfall, and burying the hours I assume is either referring to killing time, or referring to sleeping as being like a temporary death. Either way, I think it's safe to assume the first two lines are referring to passing the nighttime hours in one's room, probably sleeping/dreaming. It recalls bury me inside this labyrinth bed from the previous song, as well as the feeling of time being dilated. This is why I believe the two songs are connected, and these fields of elation are the same invisible place spoken about previously. Whereas the previous song had the narrator inviting the subject to join him in this dreamscape, however, this song says nobody else can pull me out. The subject hasn’t accepted his invitations, and the narrator has decided that the subject is worth partaking in the waking world for.

Your name is a sin I breathe, like oxygen Caught in the careless arms of lust, again Nobody else can pull me out The fields of elation, quiet and loamy

This reinforces my theory that the narrator and the subject aren't actually in a relationship, because the subject's name wouldn't be a sin if it were something he were allowed to indulge in. Whether he uses lust here in the more widely understood manner, or simply as a tool to further compare his feelings for the subject to something sinful and illicit is up to interpretation, but ultimately the message is the same: the narrator's desire for the subject is an indulgence he feels guilty about, but also feels like he needs – like oxygen – and it's a sentiment that's echoed in the refrain at the end of the song.

The heavier music kicks in here, but it doesn’t hold the same tension that ‘Thread the Needle’ did, not at this point, anyway.

And nobody else can pull me out The fields of elation, quiet and loamy And nobody else can pull me out The fields of elation, quiet and loamy

If ‘Thread the Needle’ was the narrator inviting the subject into his inner world, into his dreams, into his life, and receiving no response, then ‘Fields of Elation’ is perhaps a bit of coaxing. I read this as trying to express to the subject how much they mean to him, how important they are to him. If they won't accept the invitation into his dreams, then he insists that they're the only thing better than dreaming, the only thing worth being awake for. 

It’s after this section that the tension rises, and then the heavier music cuts out for the final refrain.

I'm losing my faith in our lives apart I'm losing my faith in our lives apart I'm losing my faith in our lives apart I'm losing my faith in our lives apart

This refrain breaks my heart, not only because of the words but because of how hopelessly it's delivered. It sounds like resignation, like he already knows he's going to need to continue on without the subject, even though he doesn't know how he'll be able to. And unlike the fade-out at the end of ‘Thread the Needle’ this song ends rather quickly after this, with only the gentle atmospheric music lingering for a few seconds longer, leaving us on that note of hopelessness.

WHEN THE BOUGH BREAKS

You could stay alive Just tell me that you notice Even in the dark The way I left you breathing

I’m going to hope that staying alive is just a metaphor for staying awake, as I hypothesized the opening of the previous song might be referencing sleeping as being a sort of temporary death. I’m assuming the narrator, by this point, has gotten a flat-out rejection of his invitations, and is now relenting that the subject can stay in the waking world. All he asks is some sort of recognition of what they shared; I’m assuming 'the way I left you breathing' is meant to say he, at some point, took the subject’s breath away?

Sometimes when we touch Everything we love resets It's only just enough Even when we run with death

It seems to me as though this part of the song is acknowledging some flaws in whatever their relationship is. Whether the touching referenced is literal or metaphorical, it seems that this connection is refreshing their love for each other, making it just enough for them to cope with their struggles. This is, honestly, the first time we’ve gotten any hint that the subject might feel the same about the narrator… which is why I’m going to give into the suggestive innuendo for just a moment and say that maybe the previous verse’s 'tell me that you notice [...] the way I left you breathing' is in fact a reference to them sleeping together and the narrator leaving the subject literally, physically out of breath. Perhaps the 'sometimes when we touch / everything we love resets' is meant to say that it’s only the physical aspect of this relationship that’s actually fueling their feelings for each other – or, at least, the subject’s feelings for the narrator. This kind of changes the context of the first part of the song and makes it seem like the narrator is asking the subject to at least admit he made them feel good, even if they don’t want to be in a relationship with him.

We could be released Flowing over sorrow days We could stay suspended Even when the bough breaks

This is what I believe is the core dilemma of this song. It reads to me like two opposing options, a decision that needs to be made: do we fall through, or do we stay suspended? I believe the ultimate meaning of ‘when the bough breaks’ is the moment in a relationship where you realize that it isn’t going to work out. You’re then faced with a decision: do you end the relationship (or give up on pursuing the other person), allowing yourselves to be released and feel the sorrow, or do you choose to stay suspended despite the broken bough, and stay in the relationship (or continue pursuing the other person) when you know they don’t feel the same about you?

If we're going to assume, as most people do, that the entire discography is all about a singular relationship… It unfortunately seems that the narrator chose the latter.

Sometimes when we touch Everything we love resets It's only just enough Even when we run with death

I'm a really big fan of when lyrics change slightly over the course of a song to portray narrative development, character growth, etc. After a second repetition of this verse we get a whole lot of repetitions of the line 'Don’t lie to me,' followed by a slightly altered version of the same verse:

Everything we touch Turns water into blood You try to look away from Even when the bough breaks

Something has changed about the act of the narrator and the subject touching. In the original verse, it seems like the relationship might already be on the rocks, but sometimes their connection is enough – even if only just – to reset things, and remind them why they're together. In the altered verse, they're spilling blood and trying to ignore it – or at least the subject is trying to ignore it: you try to look away from, the narrator says. The repetitions of the phrase Don’t lie to me leads me to believe the subject has maybe been exaggerating their feelings for the narrator in order to keep him around. Maybe their denial of the narrator’s invitations to join in his dreamscape was what made it clear to the narrator that these feelings weren’t genuine, and now he’s asking for an honest answer. Tell me that you notice [...] the way I left you breathing. Whether the physical relationship was all the subject was interested in or not, that seems to be the conclusion the narrator has drawn.

You don't really love, you just hate to be alone You hate to be alone You hate to be alone

The previous verse and this one are repeated for the rest of the song, with the repetitions of 'don’t lie to me' overlaid with them. The repetition reads as insistence to me, as if the narrator is arguing his perspective and trying to get the subject to admit to it. The heavier section of music kicks in at the start of the third repetition, but similar to the middle of ‘Fields of Elation’ it doesn’t immediately give the sense of tension that I feel in other places, it’s just gotten busier and louder. After the lyrics fade out, however, it does get noticeably more tense, and this tension persists almost for the entire final minute and half of the song, with only brief moments where it eases up. 

The song ends by cutting out very suddenly, in one of the more tense sections. I'd like to interpret this as the final argument and an end to the relationship, as it was clearly unreciprocated and unbalanced. If we are to interpret the full discography as being about a singular relationship, however, maybe this is only the first of a sequence of break-ups and make-ups. If I'm right about the repetition of the accusatory final verses being indicative of the narrator arguing his point and trying to get the subject to admit to their lack of feelings for him, it's possible that he just pushed the subject away with his strong, internalized belief that nobody could or would truly love him.

We'll never know, and that is both the beauty and the tragedy of it.

If you read this far, I thank you for hearing out my thoughts 💖 The plan was for me to tackle Two next, but after the success of this post and my later realization of the connection between the songs on TMBTE and their inverted counterparts on Sundowning, I think that's the next essay I'm going to write, because I'm very excited about all the parallels I've found. After that I'll get back to Two, and then the stand-alone singles, and then I'll have to figure out how I want to go about the albums.

Feel free to add in the replies/tags if you think I should do the albums all together in one post (like this) or if I should break them up in chunks of a few songs at a time. I'd like to keep the full albums together but I don't want to make people sit through mile-long posts, so I might opt to just not analyze every single lyric and rather focus on the lyrics I have specific thoughts on. But I also might end up having thoughts on every lyric, so, ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[selene-moonie]

Reiner Braun is one of the best written characters I've watched in years, and this is the tale of how I fell in love with him.

It started with his crush on Historia. Sis brought their horses back during the Female Titan arc and he was like, "I'm gonna marry her." We love a man who knows what he wants. He found out she and Ymir were in love and he was still talking about how he wanted to marry her. And he kept that going till the end, talking about, "Her letter smells so nice," like SIR YOU HAVEN'T SEEN HER IN 4 YEARS and she's married. That was so stinking cute.

To be fair, most of the time he was kinda annoying. All that happy yet serious energy and, "Wow this is the third time I've almost been eaten by a titan," dude stfu. I do not want to hear you after the adult soldier's dying wish was to drink the alcohol Historia just wasted on your auto healing arm. You don't need to be that happy or grateful. It's ok to be grim given the circumstances.

His cognitive dissonance is what I found really interesting. I do love seeing a character lose their mind and have to restructure their belief system. There was no way he was just a titan. He trained, ate, slept, and fought with these people, but he's also the reason why some of their families are dead? There had to be more to him than what I was seeing.

I knew he was insane when he told Eren about his titan. I carried back the episode more than once to make sure I heard correctly when he said, "I'm Armoured, and Banana is Colossal." I think I got up, ran away, screamed, told my brother and sister, watched it again, then continued the episode. I was like, there's no way you just told your greatest threat about your titan. But he had.

Seeing him flip between his two identities, like when he was making racist comments about his Paradis cohorts like he didn't just train with them for the last three years made me realise that he was fighting his own demons. How he damn near lost his mind by asking Eren to come along with him, then realising he had to take him by force - yeah I saw that cognitive dissonance dissonate.

I connected to him a lot because while I wasn't fighting to improve my family status or risk further discrimination for failure, I grew up believing that people who didn't believe in my religion deserved to die, and I definitely projected that toxicity onto others when I was a teenager. I obviously, did not give that to myself, it came from the authority figures in my life, similarly to how Reiner's decisions were actively shaped by the adults around him, turning him into a child soldier.

(I call it soldier, because I feel like warriors have more free will than soldiers ever will, and ironically, he was the warrior with the least amount of free will despite having all the context while his friends had more freedom than he, they just didn't know the truth.)

So even before s4, he was one of my favorite characters because I knew his actions and thoughts were eating him alive. I loved him because I knew how hard all that was.

But when adult Reiner debuted, I was in love with him. The first reason was that he had finally seen how problematic everything was. He knew he'd just been a child when he'd committed his life to being a Marleyan warrior and improving his family's status. He knew his decisions were wrong, and there was so much blood on his hands. He knew he'd been stuck between a rock and a hard place, but he still hated himself for it.

And, my friends, is what we call a self-aware man. That is a hard smash. All that rah-rah about how weird Sasha was for eating a potato on their first day at cadet training - he just thought she was weird, which is true. That's not hatred, that's an observation.

The second reason I fell in love with adult Reiner was his looks. I'm an adult, so watching a bunch of teenagers run around being angsty is entertaining because I was one as well, but I'd never considered that attractive or relationship material. They don't know jack shit or understand how consent works, which is why Reiner being a 'warrior' is such bullshit because he wasn't old enough to understand what that life commitment really meant.

But yeah. Isayama put crack into that man's visuals and I have not recovered since. While I do have a thing for fictional blonds (a la Erwin Smith, Sanji and Chat Noir), Reiner looking like a tired dad in s4 is all I've ever needed and wanted in life. Heck, I'd have his kids and I don't even want kids. Also, I just know he wants kids. And he'd make a great dad. I can't explain why I know this, but that's just the vibe he gives off.

Reiner Braun was the second man I fell in love with in this series, and he's probably the one I love the most because of the depth of his character and the fact that he moved forward even after everything he had done.

I could do an actual critical analysis of this man, not just the things I thought were hella cute/attractive about him. Or someone else could. I'd love a deep dive on his character because he was so beautifully written.

[bengiyo]

Only Boo Ep 9 Stray Thoughts

Last week, we finished out the high school section of the series. All of our boys qualified for college, and our aspiring idols passed their second audition even if it seems like Jang is primarily interested in Payos. Payos expressed his feelings to Potae, and Moo finally had his first kiss with Kang. I’m excited to see what life after high school looks like for these boys.

Wow, we just started and I am reminded of how much I love Moo. I will have notes for this show, but I want to reiterate that I like the way this team writes gays who know themselves and aren’t shy about it.

Also, I’m very glad that Moo found someone who’s good at time management and planning details.

EP 9: Blank Letter

Oof, this is a #LipWatch2024 episode. Everyone needs to hydrate.

Aun’s torso doesn’t soften the blow of Potae not handling this confession well.

Why is he not taking that $500 bike he bought with him??

Suddenly, Shone.

So, the whole competing cousins thing is over because they talked it out? I guess!?! Sure.

I do love that Moo’s mom never taught him shame. Her stern warnings about keeping up his grades is also pragmatic.

Now, Kang, you are boyfriends who are living together. What made you nervous there? Ya’ll we at “take our time” kissing.

Alright, I’ll take negotiating intimacy and different sexual velocities.

Man, this show continues to walk a line somewhat unsuccessfully. I want this idol dating plotline to be handled well.

Sleeping on the couch when they have a king size bed? Kang, I am trying to be with you bro, but you are making this difficult.

I see what they did there with finding a comfortable position.

It’s always fun and games when you’re trying to Netflix and Chill until you find yourself engrossed by The Red Violin (1998) and now you can’t stop thinking about that film.

If they named the episode after this storytelling device, and fail to use it in this episode, I will be disappointed.

Moo flirts relentlessly, and I love him.

Potae about to learn a harsh lesson about asking your friend not to change when the way he’s always treated you has been grounded in how much he loves and desires you.

Damn, Moo let everyone know he’s seeing a dude as his first impression.

I can’t believe they have Louis out here ruining gays again.

Multiple people bodied Kang to be responsible for Moo. I hate that.

I’m not surprised Potae needs improvement, but what I’m hoping for is his ability to grow from the feedback.

I also like this boy beefing with them. I am curious if he also succeeds and they’re all forced to work together in a group.

Jang only glanced at Payos once this week, and didn’t insinuate anything about putting them in housing for the duration of their camp.

You can’t fall in love if you ain’t clumsy!

Not Moo pulling out the Seme Juice!

It’s really fascinating watching this show not want to put this show in a real gay context. Having the older characters talk around it as if they don’t want to inflict homophobia on Moo leads to some difficult conversations.

I don’t like Moo responding to the push to be discreet by blasting his boyfriend in front of all of his followers without consulting him. They’d just spoken about this. That’s not great. I really do get it, but hoo boy.

I am not interested in Potae jealousy next week.

Feeling a bit mild about the blank letter introduction and name of the episode only for it to be probably a seed for episode 11 breakup drama. I am trying to stick with this show’s goal to explicitly avoid mentioning the queer reality around its characters, especially Moo. I can see the desire to create a world around him where his queerness isn’t a problem he has to manage, but it’s also creating a painful dissonance for me.

[a-court-of-moonlight-and-ire]

I finished acotar a while ago and I was gonna write a review right away but then christmas happened and I was pretty busy and wanted to enjoy myself so youre getting like two weeks late

It was fine, I really didnt have any strong feelings about the book itself. Like, my main complaints are that it was pretty boring and directionless for most of it and stuff thats mainly related to the next books, if I just look at it as a standalone I would describe it as "not for me, but not that bad"

That is, until we get to Under The Mountain, where everything just gets really stupid and convoluted. That whole section, which is a solid fourth or fifth of the whole book, severely clashes with the sweet fairytale romance that came before it. It reminds me of how all those twilight-knockoff trilogies in the 2010s would have two pretty low-stakes books worth of basically only romance with some weird magic sprinkled on top, and then in the last book it would turn out that the protagonist and her beloved need to Go To War or the world will end except even worse (also now that I think about it, the first three acotar books also seem to be structed like that, so youre getting two shitty plot structures in one. yayyyyyyy)

There was literally no reason for all of that happen, it was honestly just unpleasant reading about Feyre, who had spent the book recovering from her trauma in a way that was genuinely pretty nice to read about, being tortured for three months until she was feeling worse than she ever had before. And some people might say "oh, thats the point, its meant to be tragic" but it didnt feel like tragedy, it just felt tonally dissonant. Also, the entire ending was so weird and dragged out, like that bit where she and Tamlin are staying one last night UTM for some reason and then she talks to Rhysand before they finally leave and its like, BRO dont stay in the Palace of Torments for any longer than you have to, just leave through that portal-tunnel thing

Speaking of Rhysand, he wasnt that bad in this book but Im sure my opinion on him will change. The main thing that sticks out about him is how sjm simply could not resist ALREADY explaining all of his motivations and portraying him as someone whos obviously so noble, despite all the obviously horrific and completely unecessary shit hes doing. Like, theres that scene where Rhysand crushes that guy's brain when Amarantha ordered him to crush his mind and the narration goes "that was actually an act of mercy from Rhysand" ??? that mightve worked better in third person limited where youre working without the implication that the prose is the pov character's actual thoughts, but since its first person and meant to be Feyre's thoughts I was just like "why is she thinking that when she should be thinking 'holy fucking shit, i just signed my life over to a guy who could squish my mind like a grape if he wanted to?!?!?!!'"

Also, theres that scene where Rhysand comes into Feyres cell to "escape from it all" or whatever and he basically monologues to her about his sympathetic motivations and I just. sarah, girlie, you shouldve saved this shit for the second book. Like, rewrite the scene so that he just comes in eithout a word, hes totally unresponsive to Feyre insulting him or trying to ask him what hes doing here, he just sits down in the corner, knees pulled to his chest, he mutters something vague about just wanting to be left alone, maybe he's even got tears in his idk. I think that would be a far more effective way to have him be sympathetic in a more subtle way than just having him monologue his tragic circumstances and noble intentions at Feyre

Thats about it so far, I'll probably start reading ACOMAF in january when winter break is over and I can read it on the bus and in class again