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tanis-drawings-2point0 · 1 month

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suffice to say, I am constantly thinking about the og thomas zane's parallels wrt zane, barbara and emil (& cynthia) <=> alan, alice and barry (& rose) BUT IM ALSO constantly thinking about aw2's tom zane's parallels with alice of all people, his shift to filmmaker after alice made a film in awan, both of their connections to the Light™ (og zane turning into The Light Presence, alice... well. she better be careful not to end up like him is all im saying), the black & white photography // colorful moving picture dichotomy, the details of alice seeing the hidden beauty in everyone or anything and bringing it to light/capturing it in her art and then zane taking something gruesome and making art with it...

i wonder if all of it means something... in the meantime have a first meeting u_u

(alwake2 spoilers under the cut)

NOT to mention the fact that they've both filmed themselves getting killed/killing themselves only to reveal that they're not really dead afterwards/at the end, im just saying, theres something here i swear!!

#alan wake #alice wake #thomas zane #alice x zane #alicezane #alan wake 2 #dancing art

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tanis-fics · 12 days

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Monochrome beauty

Thomas Zane wasn't the only person who could shape the dark world around him and the people within it, he knew that, but being caught in the currents of someone else's art was… Interesting, to say the least. To be at the mercy of a muse, for a change.

Pairing: Alice Wake/Thomas Zane ♦ Words: 862

[on ao3] ♦ [on squidgeworld] ♦ [read on site]

With a startle Alice grabbed her camera faster than she could see what was coming for her, or rather, who was coming for her, curious and delighted. Accustomed to the cozy darkness of the hotel Zane squinted at the bright flash of it, hissing a bit before the strangest of sensations flooded him. In an instant, the vibrant color of his world turned black and white, greys seemingly shying away as the contrast of object and shapes left no ambiguity, and the electricity in the air fizzled into nothing. It felt like holding his breath, as for the first time in who knew how long, he simply couldn't move.

Frozen in place Zane stared at Alice staring at him. Like an old movie star she moved in this barren land devoid of color like she belonged to it. Or rather, as Zane quickly realized, like it belonged to her.

Huh.

She seemed to be in a hurry, her legs ready to bolt yet stuck in place just as much as his, before surprisingly inching closer. Alice looked for something on his face, her frown digging deep lines on her forehead that he so wanted to smooth over. Pretty girl like her shouldn't frown so much. And she was so pretty...

Alice... Wake. A muse, lovely Alan's muse that couldn't compare to Barbara's (his Barbara's) own majesty, but still had an old fashioned charm to her. Typecasted as the damsel in distress, a spiraling friend, a faltering artist... yet she cunningly stood her ground as she faced him, stuck in time.

Zane struggled against the invisible restrains without being able to move a muscle. Against her wide gaze, the feeling was exhilarating.

"It appears you've caught me, dear..." He tried to say, jaw slack and tongue dead, yet the woman in front of him appeared to catch his meaning as she squinted. He wanted to smile, curious, oh so curious about this ability of her. "What will you do to me now?"

Maybe she heard him. Maybe not. He couldn't tell with the way she refused to dignify him with an answer. Instead, Alice only hesitated a second before raising her hand to touch his face. If Zane could have the ability to do anything he would've gasped, if only for the cinematic feel of the scene. Her touch, cold, on his cheek, on his chin, her grasp cautious yet firm as she maneuvered his face to examine him.

"Why... why do you look like him? Why do you look like Alan?" She asked, beginning of a cold anger that he guessed didn't see the light of day too often.

Would it be so hard to believe that maybe Alan was the one who looked like him? A character played by him and brought to life? He wondered for a second before his thoughts crumbled again, against the feeling of touch, and the ache of restrain.

Is this what it meant to be captured in a still picture? Devoid of color, devoid of context, the derivative memory of a derivative man. Put in a shoebox to be forgotten, to be kept forever in stasis. To be a picture was a cruel existence, and he wanted to shiver, oh, he wanted to shake in fear for the camera to capture his trembling lips and wide eyes as her touch lingered on his skin...

It would certainly make a pretty scene. His thoughts wondered wild as his body couldn't, thinking of angles and aspect ratios and wistfully wishing for the contact to run deeper. For that snapshot to capture something illicit, for the muse to take full advantage of the medium.

Alice wasn't strong enough to keep him trapped for a long time, though, he was sure of that, and the fact that she probably knew as well. Despite her control she nervously glanced at the world around her, and he almost wanted to fake his stillness to keep her around when it was over, just to see what she would do. Instead, when she cupped his face in her hands Zane tried to close his eyes, succeeding this time.

It had been a while since he's been touched like that... A gesture with a character in mind, would it be so terrible for an actor to enjoy it instead?

Taking a deep breath, Zane could almost smell and feel the blinding whiteness of a blizzard, drops of the blackest ink falling down through it. Was it ink? Was it blood? The monochromatic nature of the medium left it ambiguous. Was he resting? Was he dying? You couldn't know with a picture.

When he opened his eyes, Alice was gone, and the drained color slowly arose again like an arctic spring. He sighed, a bit disappointed.

Oh well.

Zane could only hope to find her again in the twisting corridors of the hotel.

In the ever so dark forest.

At the bottom of the ocean itself.

For now, all he could do was to fix himself a drink in preparation, awaiting excitedly for his opportunity to capture her living picture, to direct her movement with acute precision and to see her face in beautiful technicolor.

#alan wake #thomas zane #alice wake #alice x zane #alicezane #alan wake fanfic

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