#this is my most in depth and complete version of how it could be done better

[lena-in-a-red-dress]

Disenchanted Rewrite

The biggest change I would make to Disenchanted? Make Morgan the focal point.

And to avoid using the crutch of teenage angst as a plot point, make her different. She's the kid who never had to grow out of magic, because she knows it's real, she's seen it herself. She's bright and bubbly and likes the whimsical kinds of clothes her mom designs and makes.

But with her parents busy, a new baby sister, and a sudden move to the suburbs she wasn't asked about, her cheeriness starts to crack a little. From the time they arrive it's one bad happening after another, which all seem to center on Morgan.

To top it all off, Edward and Nancy come to visit with their special gift for baby Sophia. A wishing rod, one that can only be used by a true child of Andalasia. Morgan is all but ignored in favor of the baby, and we can tell that while Morgan loves and adores her baby sister, she's feeling very alone.

She goes to her first day school (I'm torn between NOT relying on the "kids are inherently cliquet shitheads" and Morgan's individuality-- which would have been valued in NYC-- making her othered), and ends up meeting another kid.

The popular girl.

The popular girl whose mom is the head of every committee and is generally very commandeering and demanding. The popular girl who would rather do robotics than cheerleading, who loves to read but rarely has time with her extra curriculars. Who adores Morgan from the moment this new girl spots her and immediately-- genuinely and cheerily-- compliments her, instead of being daunted or intimidated by her.

This popular girl-- let's call her... Sarah-- and Morgan immediately hit it off. Morgan invites Sarah over to her new home after school, and Sarah manages to get approval from her mom (we'll call her Vivian) with the caveat that Sarah gather "information" on Monroeville's newest residents.

Even though she has a guest, Morgan is asked to watch baby Sophia while her dad is at work and Giselle is busy negotiating a fabric order or something. So they're in the nursery when the conversation deepens.

Turns out Sarah is ALSO a step-daughter. Except that she remembers her mom and misses her terribly, which only makes her relationship with Vivian even more strained, who Sarah feels is trying to make her into this perfect carbon copy of who Vivian was in her own high school days.

Towards the end, Sarah tries to lighten the conversation by remarking how much she envies Morgan's light-heartedness-- how happy she seems, and how genuine she is. It's like.... she sees the good in everything, like-- everyone gets their own happy ending. Even her house seems like the basis of a fairytale.

To which Morgan shares that her life isn't as happy as it seems. She's lonely, she feels overlooked. She loves Sophia, but sometimes she misses the times when her family was just the three of them. What makes it worse is that she's SEEN fairytales come to life. She knows what a happy ending looks like, but it no longer feels like her own is guaranteed.

If only she were able to live a fairytale of her own.

Cue Sarah spotting the glitter of the wishing rod. She asks Morgan what it is, and Morgan tells her point blank. Sarah's reaction makes it clear that she's not sure she believes it, or simply accepts it as a metaphor, but either way she plucks it up and plops back down next to Morgan and is like-- "Let's do it. Let's wish for a fairytale."

And they do.

Nothing happens immediately. It's not until the next day that Morgan wakes up to find Sarah gone and herself in a magical world where she's the step-daughter and treated like Cinderella. Giselle is distant and cold towards her (a sharp contrast to what we've thus far seen from Giselle, which has been good intentions but distracted, abbreviated execution) yet fawns over Sophia.

When Morgan goes to market, she looks for Sarah. Finally, she spots Sarah walking beside her mother in nice clothes but clearly miserable. Their eyes meet and to Morgan's relief Sarah recognizes her immediately. At the next shop, Sarah makes up a pretense of wanting to peruse a street stall. Vivian sneers, but allows it.

Morgan runs to Sarah and they collide into a fierce embrace. In a jumble of words and confusion, they eventually work out that their wish indeed came true, but it's clearly not the fairytale life they intended. They agree that they need to reverse the wish, and fast.

With the Monroe-fest/ball happening that evening, Morgan has enough knowledge of fairytales to surmise that they have until modnight to reverse the wish before it becomes permanent. They make a plan for Morgan to find the wishing rod and bring it to a pond Sarah knows about, and that Sarah would find a way to slip away from her step-mother and meet her there.

Morgan upholds her end of the plan, but Sarah never shows. Time for plan B. Morgan finds her way to Sarah's family house to discover it's a sprawling mansion. Not only that, as the wish has continued to spread its roots, the years and years of misgivings between Sarah and her step-mom have created a nexus of dark energy, slowly turning the manor into the castle of an evil queen.

Knowing she has no hope of breaking in alone, Morgan calls on the only magical experts left available to her-- Edward and Nancy. After brief rundown to apprise them of events, they readily commit to helping her.

They devise a plan for Edward to provide a distraction at the front gates while Nancy and Morgan scale the perimeter wall and sneak into the castle. The only problem is, Edward posits, is that they don't know where exactly Sarah is.

Nancy and Morgan share a Look.

"The Tower," they declare in unison.

As Morgan and Nancy sneak through corridor after corridor, they talk. Nancy asks why Morgan wished something like this, and Morgan releases all her frustrations in a rush, citing her dark feelings and culminating in her deepest misgiving-- that she's not a daughter of Andalasia.

Nancy stops her right then and there. "Oh, sweetheart," she says, cupping Morgan's face and wiping her tears away. "Being a child of Andalasia isn't about where you were born. It's about what's in your heart."

Morgan is doubtful, and Nancy gives her a warm, kind smile.

"Don't believe me? Look around you, Morgan-- how else would the rod have granted your wish?"

That certainly gives Morgan to think about as they resume their trek towards the Tower. When they reach the locked chamber at the top, Sarah can be heard on the other side, shocked and relieved that Morgan has come for her.

When they descend with Sarah in tow, the sounds of encroaching guards funnel them into the grand hall of the castle where the ball is being held, and where Sarah's step-mother--- now an evil sorceress complete with magic-- is waiting for them.

Vivian delivers a monologue worthy of any villianess, declaring that she knew Morgan was no good the moment she laid eyes on her. She could not allow her daughter to comingle with such peasantry, for her daughter is to one day be the next dark queen, and they will rule the kingdom together in all their evil glory.

"No," Sarah speaks up. She steps forward to stand beside Morgan with her chin high. "I'm not you. I will never be you. Why can't you just let me forge my own path, and be who I want to be?"

"Because you are mine!" Vivian roars. Her glare turns to Morgan. "I will not allow you to fill my daughter's head with such thoughts any further."

"She deserves to be free to make her own choices!" Morgan calls out.

"There is nothing YOU can do to stop me."

Morgan straightens, standing tall and proud. "You're wrong. I am NOT nobody. I am a true daughter of Adalasia, and I will do everything in my power to stop you!"

With a roar, Vivian lashes out with her magic. The inky tendrils of darkness meets a forcefield born of Morgan's magic, which repels the beam in a flash of shimmering light. Vivian presses harder with her magic, nearly breaking through, but Sarah clasps Morgan's hand, and the shield strengthens with their combined might.

Vivian counters by supplementing her magic with the life force of the ball's attendees. Again, the shield nearly fails, but then Nancy grips Morgan's free hand. And then, finally, one more hand reaches up to clasp Morgan's shoulder from behind.

Morgan looks back to find Giselle, her features warm and adoring like Morgan remembers from before Sophia was born. Having been at the ball with Robert before Morgan burst in, she's heard Morgan's speech, which has woken her from her wish-induced role.

"I am so proud of you, Morgan," Giselle tells her, eyes glistening with tears. "I love you so much. I know you can do this. WE can do this."

Bolstered by the support of those around her, Morgan faces the evil queen once more and with a roar of her own sends a pulse of love and light throughout the room, severing Vivian's connection to the attendees and sapping her of power. As Vivian rises once more with hate in her eyes, she begins to craft a final, devastating spell.

"Morgan, now!" Giselle calls.

Pivoting towards Sarah, Morgan pulls out the rod and they clasp it together, their hands piling over each other. Together, they say the magic words.

"I wish."

Just as Vivian's spell blasts towards them, the world around them fades away, and when the girls open their eyes once more, they are back in Sophie's room, seemingly having fallen asleep while the baby napped.

With an almost frantic relief, the pair scramble downstairs to assure themselves that the world truly has regained its true shape. There nothing is out of place, except for Giselle in her office. Through the open door, Morgan can see her step-mother-- her mom-- pause in her pacing. After a moment of quiet, Giselle abruptly tells the caller on the other end that she has to go, and promptly hangs up.

She pulls back the door of her office and meets Morgan's gaze, proving that Giselle remembers everything. When Giselle surges towards her, Morgan opens her arms and hugs her mom tightly.

"I'm so sorry," Giselle tells her. "I never meant to make you feel that way. I promise, I won't let it happen again."

Morgan nods into her shoulder. "I love you, mom."

Eventually, Sarah reluctantly returns home. But to her surprise, Vivian quietly calls her into the living room for a talk.

"Do you enjoy cheerleading?"

The strange question takes Sarah aback, and she scrambles to find an appropriate answer. "I.... don't dislike it."

"If you had a choice, would you have chosen it?"

Sarah almost fibs, but at the last minute pulls on the strength she'd gained with Morgan in the wish world.

"No." She lifts her gaze to meet Vivian's. "No, I wouldn't."

For a long moment, Vivian is quiet. Then, she rises from her prim seat on the couch and approaches Sarah, taking the girl's hands in hers. It's a rare moment of physical contact.

"I'm sorry, Sarah," Vivian says. "I've tried to guide you into the things I enjoyed because it felt like the only way I could connect with you. But I realize now that it only served to drive you further away." Vivian pauses, taking a breath. "I don't want to be just your step-mom, Sarah. I want to be your mom."

It's all Sarah has ever wanted to hear. And Vivian's honesty is audible in her voice, tangible in the way her hands tremble ever so slightly in Sarah's. In a split second, Sarah makes her choice.

She flings her arms around Vivian, and hugs her tight. Surprised, it takes Vivian a moment to recover, but when she does she is quick to reciprocate.

"Let's find a new way forward," she murmurs. "Together."

The film ends with Sarah and Morgan walking into school together, greeting their other friends as they go. Giselle and Vivian are manning the bake sale (for the robotics team) outside, comfortable and supporting their daughters with mutual enthuasium.

And they lived happily.

[ghostaholics]

𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒 𝐈𝐓 𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑

➸ PAIRING: Lieutenant Simon 'Ghost' Riley x gn medic!Reader (same reader from here, but this is a stand-alone) ➸ SUMMARY: You kiss Simon's very minor injuries. And then some. (Or, alternatively: He's not actually wounded. He just wants to see you.) ➸ WARNING(S): some graphic descriptions of old injuries ➸ A/N: Need to preface that this isn't smut despite how the title and summary sound. Anyways, Jo knows I listened to Hozier's Other Voices 2020 version of "Work Song" for a week straight while writing this. ➸ WC: 2k

❝ 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐈𝐍' 𝐎𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐈𝐄𝐋𝐃, ❞ he admits, low-timbered. It feels intimate, especially coming from him. Simon's sitting on the cot; it sags under his weight. He curls his hands over the edge of it as he leans forward. No casualties post-mission means he's got free rein to pick wherever he wants in the medical tent.

"Oh, yeah? What about?"

"That I should probably do my best to avoid injuries so I don’t keep pestering you. Can always just tell me to fuck off, y’know.”

“You’re gonna break my heart if you stop coming around.

“Mm,” he says in agreement. “Can’t have that can we?”

You nod your head earnestly. “I like your company.”

“Tryin’ to say that you’ll miss me?”

“I would.” More than he knows.

It’s routine now. He gives you just enough room, adjusting his position. You step into the space made between Simon’s splayed knees, his massive legs nearly bracketing yours with how close they are. He’s bigger than you. Well, considerably more mammoth-like in his proportions compared to an overwhelming majority of the soldiers that you’ve encountered, to be quite honest.

Simon acts as though he’s acutely aware of his size. You suspect that he purposefully makes himself smaller in your presence. Like now, how his shoulders are rounded forward, the column of his spine not as straight-arrow in that standard, militaristic posture most servicemen have adopted. As if he doesn’t want to appear too intimidating. Not that Simon could, to you. Hours doing his stitches and idle chitchat on your part have taught you that he’s much less ruthless than people seem to paint him as. But you appreciate the thought anyway.

You conduct the assessment – a typical evaluation normal for combat casualty care, more in-depth than the one you’d done when he initially stopped by and you did a quick once-over for any obvious injuries. Though given the complete vacancy in the medical tent, you find it hard to believe that you’ll come across anything on him since the mission went that smoothly.

The first thing you notice this time: he doesn't smell like spilled blood. It's different. Not that sweet, rusted iron of wet tackiness – the one that reminds you of a generous stack of two pence coins held between a pair of hands cupped together. He comes in that way a lot. Reeks, because war means that he's no stranger to charging through a shower of copper and lead-forged bullets out on the field. Everything else is still there, though. Maybe a dying campfire – crackling logs and blackened earth. Soft dirt excavated from a foxhole for cover while under enemy fire. All gunpowder and Marlboro Lights and diesel-fuel smoke. Fresh rain and a blue-violet sky after a storm. Victory without consequence.

You'd breathe it in if you could, pull the collar of his jacket up to your face. At this proximity, it’d be easy.

He drops the act when he’s in front of you. Lieutenant. Ghost. Battle-hardened, gruff. A natural-born leader. The kind of person to rip this world apart brick by brick – scraped up palms clutching onto broken pieces – to make sure that the plan is executed accordingly, no matter the cost. It’s hard for him to shed that layer. A drop in the bucket of information that you’ve gathered about this man.

You’ve seen him at his best. But you know him at his worst.

The laundry list of injuries over the years: blows to his torso and his back and his limbs that were brighter than technicolor – purples and reds and sickly yellow-green shades – deep, blotchy medals of violence decorating his skin like some kind of fucked-up kaleidoscope that was nothing to be proud of; when some bastard drove a knife right into his upper thigh, that dirty blade wedged through tissue and muscle which was sure as hell going to induce the nastiest infection without serious TLC and a tetanus shot; rib fractures 7-9 because he aborted an exploding heli, seconds to spare before landing on his side wrong from a height that was equivalent to three stories tall; old GSWs dotting his body the same way you’d shove push pins into a paper-flimsy map to mark the places you’ve been to.

And then there’s no contest for the top contender. 𝐆𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭'𝐬 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐈𝐧𝐣𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐭 #𝟏: when he was rushed in on a stretcher, barely clinging to life. Lower abdomen shredded by exploding shrapnel. He was outside of the window of opportunity. Too far beyond that golden hour, so his chances of surviving plummeted to a single-digit percent.

He’s more than just a patchwork of scars. There’s a complex person underneath the surface. A miracle in the flesh to have toughed it out through all of that. Resilient. Perpetual. His callsign makes sense. Ghosts really do live forever.

Several seconds pass before you speak again. It’s a silly comment, teasing – poking fun at him. You don’t have any reservations when it comes to picking on Simon; he’s good about taking these things in stride. Funny, actually. He’s got a dry sense of humor. “I think… you like the idea of someone taking care of you.”

His response isn’t immediate. It’s delayed, said with intention. He doesn’t ever waste words. “Not just anybody.”

You nearly reel back at that. Warmth floods your face. You aren’t quite sure what to say, didn’t expect it. So you let the comment hang in the air between the two of you, busying your hands with slipping off his tac vest, triple-checking for hidden wounds, doing anything to keep yourself occupied while you stand this close to him in the wake of that remark. You’re engrossed in your work, in search of a distraction.

(He’s a distraction, isn’t he?)

And then your eyes stop in their scan. Right there: a small nick on the exposed sliver of skin between his glove and sleeve – open to the direct path of some wayward debris that happened to graze him. So tiny. You’ve seen paper cuts more harrowing than this – wouldn’t have even registered on your radar, especially if it’s being dwarfed by other critical wounds that hold decisive sway over somebody’s fate when it comes to your average life-or-death scenario.

Of course, you take your job very seriously.

You feign a sharp inhale. “Ah,” you say solemnly, guiding his arm up to your face for a closer look. “Found your problem.”

“I’ve got a problem,” he echoes, voice laced with amusement.

“See, you came to the right place. Anybody else would’ve missed it.”

“The verdict, then?”

“So terrible. Earth-shattering, in fact—”

Simon starts pulling away. “Alright, that’s enough of you takin’ the piss outta me,” he gripes.

You chase his arm to recapture it into your grasp. “Wait!” you say, huffing out a laugh. Your mouth sprouts into a wide grin that makes him roll his eyes.

“You gonna treat me or what?”

Your humor bubbles away as you come back to your senses. Those once-loud peals of laughter start to die down when you take his question into consideration. Because there’s really nothing for you to do; he doesn’t need you.

The realization is slow-moving. It washes over you, rolls like waves as you finally begin to sober up.

Simon wants to be here, and he’s looking for any excuse to stay. He just can’t find the courage to own up to it.

“I dunno. Might be unconventional,” you throw out casually, playing along. “Risky, maybe – never been done before.”

But he’s undeterred. “Sure. Whatever you gotta do.”

You pause for a beat, fingers still wrapped around his forearm because you haven’t managed to let go yet. His skin is warm under your palm. You’re not sure what exactly possesses you to do it – emboldened by his encouragement, given complete carte blanche; he’s leaving this to your discretion. So you press your lips to that area where the cut is, right over his pulse point. If you had lingered for longer, you probably would’ve been able to feel it thudding, that solid rhythm and easy strength reminding you he’s alive.

You expected him to withdraw his arm in bewilderment. He should’ve kicked up a fuss about you violating his boundaries, should’ve told you that you overstepped. Something, right?

But he doesn’t do any of that. Simon’s studying you. Dark pupils. So chasm-deep that the ground beneath your feet might slip away. Ocean trenches, midnight-black like the charcoal smudged around his eyes. When they land on you, his gaze goes molasses-soft. He’s fond; there’s little room for doubt. The way he looks at you says everything. None of that usual coldness he harbors during an op. Instead, relaxed and more human than you’re used to seeing – all of his attention focused solely on you.

“Where else, Simon?” you whisper.

He’s thinking – carefully weighing his options – the same expression that he gets when a crossroads lies ahead of him and he knows his make-it-or-break-it decision will invariably affect the outcome of a mission.

After several moments, his hand comes up. Simon’s fingers curl underneath the hem of his mask; he’s been wearing the fabric balaclava more often since you’ve fixed the stitching on it. Then he lifts – not the entire way. Just to reveal the bottom half of his face. There he is. Sandpaper-rough stubble. The sharp cut of his jaw. A mouth that you’re convinced wears a scowl 24/7 behind his mask but is now slightly twitched up.

Even though you’ve seen it before, the sight of him never fails to steal your breath away. Feels like meeting him for the first time again. With how rarely he does this, it might as well be – that slow, heart-melting sensation is steadily filling the cavern of your chest.

And you lean in. Your lips brush against his; it’s a chaste thing – the kiss – if it can be called that. Gentle. Like how you’d stitch up his wounds with a light touch and kind intent. He’s built of sterner stuff, but if there’s anything you’ve learned about him, it’s that he’s capable of breaking just as easily as everyone else. You always handle Simon with care: unequivocal compassion and empathy when there’s so little of those left on this side of war – privileges that he’s never taken for granted.

“Better?” you ask quietly, tipping your head in question.

Simon hums his approval – this pleased, low sound in his throat. His hand slides across your lower back. He tugs you towards him. “Wouldn’t mind some more attention,” he murmurs, before slotting his mouth over yours. And then he kisses you like it might heal him from the outside in.

[maxwell-grant]

Thoughts on the master of fear, Scarecrow? Also, fave design, he has so many good ones (second BTAS, his trading card one, mistress of fear, Gaslight,, fear for sale, the Arkham Games etc)?

Hey so, do any of you remember Batman Live? It was this really fun, extravagant stage show that touched on a lot of Batman hallmarks and was generally a really fun time as far as I recall. I went to the São Paulo premiere with my family, and I was a little too young to really recall most of it now, but some things I definitely remember like the huge Joker hot air balloon made of performers in bodypaint, or the comedy sequences in the Iceberg Lounge. The one thing that stuck with me the most was when the Scarecrow showed up. Batman goes to Arkham Asylum and the entire comedy camp tone drops dead, as he walks in and finds all these bodies in straightjackets hanging from chains, and the doors open as The Scarecrow walks towards him in stilts, summoning loud smoke eruptions that are poisoning and weakening Batman as he leers over him. That part actually did scare me as a kid, and it was probably the first time I had any kind of feelings on Scarecrow imprinted in me.

I was introduced to The Scarecrow as this uniquely horrifying villain who could terrify through presentation alone. I didn't particularly understand what the fear gas was, I was too taken with that ungainly thing up there with the stilts and all those people turned into cadaverous decorations, lurking from the endless halls of the asylum, who towered over everyone and placed Batman into a writhing breakdown with a few gestures, and never appeared again until the cast roll, completely absent from the rogues gatherings after. Granted, of course that's because the stilts prevented him from joining the fight scenes, but that helped to reinforce his mystery. He wasn't someone Batman was going to punch back, no no, the Scarecrow simply vanished as soon as he was done with disarming Batman, and you'd just have to pray for that unfathomable creep to never show up again.

And I'd say this might be part of why I've never been too big on the fear gas, in part because I was first enraptured by a version of The Scarecrow who clearly didn't need it that much, or at least, could do much more besides it. The Scarecrow is, I'd say actually one of my top 10 DC characters, half of that on the basis of his designs, but he's a character who tends to really, really struggle under a lack of cohesion and being subordinate to his gimmick, much more so than the other rogues. The fear gas is a good gimmick, but it is just that, a gimmick, and one that's usually reliant on how far can the story push the horror and the visuals to at least make it effectively scary for us, otherwise it gets incredibly boring very fast, and it's not even a gimmick exclusive to him since so many other characters have similar mind control/illusion abilities/gadgetry at hand (and to say nothing of Hugo Strange, who first used fear gas and who quite frankly kicks the Scarecrow's ass in terms of quality storylines, although Hugo does that to most of the other Batman villains too)

The Scarecrow has become the go-to character for hallucination sequences / revisiting character traumas, which frequently makes him less of a character and more so a convenient plot device, a problem heightened by the larger issue here that is his inconsistent motivation, or lack thereof. He lacks the kind of "breakout" stories that his fellow major Batman villains have had that usually cement an ongoing characterization, and his most famous/celebrated appearences in mass media don't really do much to combat the assertion that he is shallow and weak and whose only asset is the gas (namely, his boss fights in Arkham Asylum, which are all about the fear gas hallucination scares, and his role in Nolan's Batman, which is very fun, but also purposefully plays him up for ridicule and lack of depth next to the other villains)

These days, the Scarecrow is a tedious pip-squeak. His schemes lack verve, his cruelties stir little in the way of frissons. Haunted by cliché to an even greater extent than the other rogues, he’s often brought low with a single sock to the jaw delivered by Batman, or by finding himself on the receiving end of his own fear-inducing concoctions. He often acts as a pawn in the hands of bigger, badder third parties. He’s ostensibly a stand-in for the figure of the reductive, smug and hypocritical psychologist, nicely bundled up for the audience to humiliate in effigy - TheMindlessOnes's rogue review for Scarecrow

In "Nothing to Fear" it is explained that Jonathan Crane has always had this "thing" for scaring people. (Just as Snidely Whiplash had his "thing" for tying women to railroad tracks, I suppose.) But this is a wan kind of motive. One senses sadly that the real motive for the Scarecrow's behavior lies in the writer's need for someone to do something reprehensible. At the root of the matter may be a difficulty in sorting out the Scarecrow's ends from his means, with a consequent confusion between the goals the Scarecrow intends to reach and the tactics he employs in reaching them.

As a psychologist specializing in phobic disorders, Crane knows how to induce fear and trembling in his victims. But this tells us nothing about what the Scarecrow wants to accomplish. And without a sense or statement of what those goals are, the writer will be tempted to substitute means for end and make the Scarecrow's goal simply the scaring of people. Usually his actions are woefully underexplained - Dreams in Darkness' review by Toonzone

You might think that I'd be advocating for the Scarecrow, then, to disregard a need for a motivation and become as unknowable and horrific as possible, to recapture the awe I felt at his Batman Live self, but no, not at all. For one, I don't think the best version of anything is necessarily the one that made the most impact on me as a kid. Two, there have been some attempts over the years to remove Scarecrow from the toxin or seriously amp him up as a threat, and frankly, most of those have only made the character dramatically worse and more boring (I don't remember the name, but there was a Batman story a while ago where he goes on a big scary killing spree with no toxin just to prove he can and it was fucking terrible). Three, and the big one here, is that this pretty much forces you to get rid of Dr. Jonathan Crane, and I think that does a disservice to the character's potential. I think that's giving up on trying to make him work as a character and I don't think you have to do that.

My preferred characterization for Crane is one that emphasizes his nature as a scholar turned supervillain. The cold and misanthropic and neurotic nerd professor who spent most of his salary on books and took to terrorizing the city as a costumed criminal in part because he wanted money to buy more books. Who takes off the costume mid-crime spree to school his henchmen on specifics of brain chemistry, who gets revenge on those that wrong his students or even employs them as henchmen, still the same guy who thinks there's nothing wrong with firing a loaded gun in a packed classroom as a demonstration. Far less interested in human connections than he is in human reactions, things that can surprise him or that he can catalogue or research or write about. Someone who's not a sadist for sadism's sake, but who doesn't really see you as a person so much as he sees a test subject. I like Crane as a snarky humorous heel who thinks of himself as amoral and mature while doing horribly immoral and childish things, the Herbert West or Rusty Venture of Batman villains (James Urbaniak is definitely the voice I'd pick for him).

My preferred kind of motivation for him is something along the lines of how he's portrayed in most of Kings of Fear, where he puts Batman through the wringer in part as an attempt to get to him and cure him once and for all, or issues #4-5 of The Batman Adventures where he induces city-wide illiteracy in part as a protest against the city's failing education. In Gothtopia he makes all of Gotham hallucinate their perfect ideal lives, eliminating the crime rate but causing the suicide rate to spike up in return, and yes it does turn out to be the set-up for a really generic "fear gas everyone with blimps and make everyone twice as scared" pay off when his involvement is revealed, but I always thought Scarecrow being able and willing to do that, to create these huge and even benevolent-seeming social experiments, as an idea with legs. Fear State was frustratingly halfway there, with the initial set-up of Scarecrow pursuing a theory for fear-based social upheaval, but on top of not being very good, it also wound up that he was just doing the same old thing again and had Batman call him out as someone who just wanted to gas the city and make everyone scared again and never changes and does anything different, which seemed like Tynion defeating his own purpose of trying to make a defining Scarecrow story and address his lack of one, completely failing to address the why the character has that kind of problem and upending itself for meta commentary before doing anything interesting.

Even Kings of Fear, easily the best Scarecrow story of the past decades if not outright ever, kinda ends in a bit of a cop-out where The Scarecrow has to be wrong ("Even when he's telling the truth, he's lying, and even when he's right, he's wrong", Gordon tells Batman to reassure him, to nullify the past 5 issues criticizing and tearing into Batman from every angle imaginable), and he has to be a sadist who just wanted to fuck with Batman and uncover his worst fears because it's what he does. Why does Scarecrow want to unravel people and wrench their worst fears into the surface? Because he's a sadist who gets off on it? I guess that's the canon answer most of the time, but it's such a boring, weak one. Because he wants revenge on the world / bullies? Still weak, done better by other villains even. Because of an unspeakably traumatic childhood that taught him the world was ruled by fear and therefore driving him to become it's master? Okay, but it still doesn't actually answer what he wants to get out of doing what he does.

We know that Jonathan Crane was a fragile youth routinely terrorized and abused by others and plainly traumatized by his experiences. We know that he is learned and brilliant and given to introspection and fantasy.

From this base it is not hard to imagine Crane turning into a man fiercely devoted to solitude and study and capable of a murderous rage when his privacy is violated. It is possible, in other words, to imagine him as a reactive force, in the mold of Freeze, systematically terrorizing and destroying anyone who crosses him but rarely wanting to start trouble himself.

Or we can imagine him as a mercenary, a specialist hired by others for nefarious purposes, but who is not himself strongly motivated by particular rages or desires.

But if the Scarecrow is going to remain a sadist and a sadist only—if he is going to be moved only by the psychotic desire to harm others—we ought to be made to feel the seductive power that sadism has over its practitioners; we should be made to feel and appreciate the hot and sour joy that comes from the purposeful humiliation of another - Dreams in Darkness review by Toonzone

It's kind of a frustrating pattern in a lot of his stories where he gives a reason for doing something, and it turns out to be a cover for yet another sadistic fear gas attack, but his cover reason was a more interesting motivation for him than what he actually was going for. A villain who mainly just gets a kick out of hurting people and concocts bullshit excuses and reasons to justify said hurting? The Joker does that already, but the Joker always clearly states what he wants and has all those ways to make cruelty for cruelty's sake entertaining. If that's all The Scarecrow is also, no wonder he's going to be so incredibly lacking most of the time (nevermind the fact that he's never going to be the guy most infamous for gassing Gotham City).

Yes, he may be sadistic and cruel, he may enjoy what he does too much, and maybe there really isn't any kind of realistic explanation as to why a man would dress up as a scarecrow to commit terrorism and spray innocent people with chemicals to make them terrified, but refer to the guy he's fighting. "Realistic" is the wrong term. The issue here is less "why" the Scarecrow does what he does, and more what is he hoping to get out of it. Granted, this is less of a concern if you're playing The Scarecrow as a figure of horror, someone who's not even really human underneath that outfit. But I think that locks away much of his versatility. The Scarecrow needs Jonathan Crane, and I think there's good stuff to like about that awful man.

I like Jonathan Crane the sardonic pragmatic scientist who still embraces his hopelessly ridiculous life, a guy who's not nearly as above it all as he'd like to be and has wants and needs moreso than he really likes to admit. I like him as a book lover, as a fan of horror, I like him as the kind of guy who'd send fan mail to Elvira and break out of Arkham just to catch a Halloween parade and guest star in a Scooby-Doo movie for a change. I like him as someone who'd have a decent working relationship with the other rogues and pal with the Legion of Doom and get into a physical spat with Riddler over a chess game. Someone who custom-makes his own outfits and equipment, who makes scythes out of animal bones to fight Batman with, who picked the scarecrow motif in part because it was a term of derision his colleagues used on him.

Who pours himself over his research as he records his theories in a tape recorder, the kind of guy who grouses at having to clean another cell because he's getting annoyed at his test subjects killing themselves, seriously guys the cleaning supplies for this batch were as fresh as they could be, and the iguana amygdalas I used should be stopping your neocortexes from overreacting this strongly. Subject #3 over there got over his fear of centipedes yesterday and he hasn't screamed all morning, I'm gonna need the rest of you to stop being such babies, okay?

It must be terribly liberating for Crane, to transcend mere ugliness and become inhuman. Of all the rogues, he’s easily the one who takes Batman’s “I need a disguise; I shall become a beast of the night” schtick and runs with it the farthest - TheMindlessOnes's rogue review for Scarecrow

And that's for Jonathan Crane, man of science. The Scarecrow, however, is not science, he is unreason incarnate, and to me what most makes The Scarecrow work as a Batman villain has nothing to do with "they both use fear as a weapon", I always thought that was a bit shallow of an angle to pursue (most, if not all, the villains rely on fear, it comes with the whole "crime" thing). The two have a stronger connection via the costume, the theatricality, the becoming a creature of the night angle. None of the other major Batman villains are going into their costumes the way The Scarecrow is. They have their personas and varying degrees of division between them and their "real selves", but few of them are wearing outright identity-separating Halloween Monster Costumes with separate names and personalities they can dip in and out of at their convenience.

And I'm gonna interrupt myself to answer your second question. I couldn't pick just one design, so counting the Batman Live one above, I picked 10. These are not in order and they're not necessarily how I'd design him, I'd say my actual favorite Scarecrow designs are fan-made, but if I was going to pick out of "official" material these are the ones I'd go for. It's time for:

(Left-to-right: George Pratt's Scarecrow pin-up, Phil Jimenez's Scarecrow design, Ed Natividad's concept art for Suicide Squad)

(Left-to-right: His TNBA design by Bruce Timm as drawn by Luciano Vecchio, Alex Ross's design for Justice, and Tim Sale's Scarecrow)

(Left-to-right: Kelley Jones' design for Kings of Fear, Jeremy Raapack's design for Legends of the Dark Knight #25, Scarecrow's design in Happy Halloween, Scooby-Doo!)

*cough*, anyway: Most of the other rogues with their signature suits or masks or body distortions don't tend to have closets full of different variant Batsuits and scarecrow costumes to choose and devote to their cause and ideal, that they sit at night tailoring on how to make scarier or more loaded with weapons, that they might even have conversations with, things that sit in their closets waiting because both of these brilliant men, men who have (or at least had) different civilian lives, men who could stop doing this at any time, who both decided that becoming a Halloween monster prowling the streets to inflict terror is a necessary, even productive use of their time.

And I think that's the key word I want to end here, productive. I think The Scarecrow needs to be more productive. Because even if he's not aware of it, he is achieving progress via his research, and there is one way he's proved his ideas: Batman walks out of every fight they have stronger. Every encounter they have is a test that Batman resists and walks out of more able to cope with his own traumas, or at least, better able to resist them being weaponized against him. I always wanted to explore the idea that Crane is genuinely convinced he's doing people a favor or at least achieving something via all these horrible Scarecrow campaigns, and one thing he has achieved is that Batman is never not prepared for chemical attacks or assaults on his mind, Batman resists ungodly trials of willpower and determination and courage, in part because he has to deal with the Scarecrow pumping terror juice in his brain semi-regularly.

The fact that Crane loses and gets beaten up and has to retry schemes again and again and kill people and join the costume parade just to lure Batman is fairly inconsequential to him, so long as it gets results. He's not interested in dissecting Batman's brain or being more like Batman, that's Hugo Strange's thing. Hugo Strange needs Batman to be fearless, allmighty and perfect, where as Jonathan Crane wants nothing more than to unearth and study the fears and kinks in the armor, the dead last thing he wants is a perfect man. Hugo Strange wants to crawl naked into the mask of the great and terrible fascist and never come out, where as The Scarecrow wants to crack open all the masks in the world and feast luridly on whatever seeps out.

Batman isn't just the ultimate trial against his fear-ruled worldview (or even affirmation), and he isn't just a breakthrough waiting to happen: he might be his greatest success as of yet. A case study on the success of exposure therapy, proof of potential medicinal applications for his formula, the greatest guinea pig of all time because he won't die no matter what you pump into him, you name it. So what if all those other people couldn't stomach the procedure, so what if those precious innocents are too weak and stupid and useless to not get in the way of research, it's clearly worked wonders for those who could take it.

And if the future belongs to men like Batman, if all of these superheroes and supervillains are the way things are going to be like forever, if the future is Bat-shaped and as vast and uncertain and horrible as the forces shaping it, the future needs to be prepared. The future needs to grapple with it's past and face it's greatest horrors and become stronger for it. There is no such thing as overcoming fear, there is only living with it, embracing it, bowing to the primordial instinct that knows the answer before you do. Mankind grew and developed it's intelligence and tools out of fear, fear of the bigger predators out there, fear of the other cavemen, fear of starvation and death and everything they couldn't understand and master until they learned to fear it. What better knowledge to pass along than fear? And who is better qualified to teach about fear?

Maybe Crane isn't just another monster with a grudge, maybe he isn't another costumed revenge killer, maybe he isn't just a power-tripping sadist bully out to torment others because he can, and maybe he isn't a hopeless traumatized madman who destroyed his professional and personal life in a monstrous quest to satisfy an obsession ruling his soul.

Maybe he is a sane response to an insane situation. Ever heard that one before?

[dr-spectre]

Talking about Side Order and... Marina. (SPOILERS AHEAD!!!!)

You know, i really enjoyed Side Order, like it wasn't perfect or anything but i had such a blast with it and if they continue to expand on it we could have something REALLY amazing. My reaction to the GOD DAMN TUTORIAL BOSS GOT ME HYPERVENTILATING! IM NOT JOKING! IT WAS SO EXCITING AND SHOCKING!!! THE FINAL BOSS WAS INCREDIBLE TOO! I was singing along to Spectrum Obligato and WHEN THEY BROUGHT IN THE STUFF FROM THE LIVE CONCERT VERSION OF EBB AND FLOW MY JAW DROPPED!!!

However i gotta admit, the story could have been better, what was the deal with the Octoling engineers Marina was talking about? That goes completely nowhere and i thought it was gonna build to something with the repeat playthroughs of the final boss.

And of course, the biggest missed opportunity in my opinion, Marina Agitando.

Now look, i wanna say right off the bat, the design is excellent, it was so smart to bring back her Order outfit and make her into a giant abomination that moves in such a weird way that makes you feel uncomfortable. When i saw her for the very first time when you enter the room, i stood there for at least a solid minute in complete disbelief and shock seeing a giant Marina in some octopus tentacle heart thingy that beats and pumps with the music. The song that plays too "Unconscience" is such a BANGER and honestly it rivals Octo Callie's Bomb Rush Blush remix in my opinion.

The build up for this was pretty good too, seeing Marina say "help me" before she was knocked unconscious and then possessed by Overlorder BROKE ME! I was like "OH NO! ITS HAPPENING AGAIN! NOT MARINA!!" The build up to the 10th floor was so anxiety inducing because you know in the back of your mind that Marina is gonna fight you but you don't know what it's gonna look like, if you were there since Splatoon 2 and have watched Pearl and Marina since the beginning then this build up is even more anxiety inducing and its pretty damn good. And once you free Marina she feels so sorry about what happened and helps you out to put things right, heck she goes through a small character arc of embracing chaos.... but... i have to say...

It is unfortunately not executed that well or with any depth in my opinion because they repeated the whole thing of "oh no a character we know is evil because of (quote on quote) mind control!!!! oh noooo!!" Which is a tired trope in this series that needs to stop or else I'm gonna get REALLYYYYYY pissed off.

I've done enough ranting about Callie's villain arc and how that has been misinterpreted and stuff, but for Marina, i really wish they didn't do the whole "oh no a character is evil because of an evil character oh nooo!! we gotta save them!!" thing again and i wish Marina was more of a villain with a sad motivation for her actions. As much as its cute to see Pearl and Marina act all flirty with each other in Side Order, it kinda ruins the mysterious and dark tone of the story that was teased from the trailers and the tutorial in my opinion. Everything is also explained so quickly early on which really sucks. I really wish Marina was actually conscious throughout her time as Marina Agitando and most of it should have been her fault. She does blame herself for creating Overlorder but it's kinda brushed aside quickly and Marina ends up being totally fine and free of guilt. There isn't enough depth to it which is so lame and a missed opportunity.

Marina is flawed, she makes mistakes and acts emotional and angry sometimes. We have seen a side of Marina where she snaps at Pearl when she loses Splatfests and has shown signs that she still hasn't recovered from her time before she met Pearl.

She picked team Order because she was genuinely scared that her new life would fall apart and she doesn't wanna lose the people (especially Pearl) that she's met and grown to love. Marina is also heavily theorized to be on the autism spectrum and as someone who is autistic, i can see myself in Marina, they could have really explored Marina's psyche and mental health in Side Order but they just... didn't. Instead she's put to sleep and controlled by her ai child and all of the focus is put on stopping it like a traditional "oh no we gotta stop an evil ai!! oh noo!!" story... ugh... I mean Smollusk is cute i guess but there's not a ton to them and they come off as yet another "evil ai that wants order and control!! roarrr!!!"

From reading the most recent interview on Side Order and seeing the concept art, they said that they wanted to tell a story about Marina losing herself to a machine that she created. Could you imagine how tragic it would have been to learn more about Marina and how she's so wrapped up in anxiety that she decides to make this replica of Inkopolis Square and make the Memverse? Maybe at first she makes it to help Sanitized Octolings just like in the dlc, but then maybe due to overwork and burnout (which Pearl mentions in the tutorial by the way), her emotions and anxiety become so strong that she becomes consumed by it, this obsession of order and trying to achieve happiness takes over her and then she gets the idea to spread this order to the real world, where her friends can be "happy" and "safe." Maybe Overlorder is still there but they just whisper to Marina, manipulate and point her in the right direction to continue to her mission of order instead of just fucking knocking her out and using her as a meat puppet for 5 minutes.

Could you imagine how much better the build up would have been to not see Marina until you get to the 30th floor for the first time and you got to unlock her diary entries beforehand? Seeing her thought process and her slow descent into becoming an antagonist. I'm not sure how they would have changed the permanent upgrades but they could have thought of something man. I get that they wanted to subvert expectations but, i think they should have gone WAY further with Marina Agitando.

I was waiting for Pearl and Marina to have their "Tidal Rush" moment where it's this emotional battle between the two, could you imagine how DEVISTATING a remix of Ebb and Flow would have been if it had gotten that "Tidal Rush" type of remix? Pearl singing her parts in this chaotic and emotional way, on the brink of tears trying to get Marina back and calm her down, and Marina trying to fight back against her words, not wanting to believe her because she's so wrapped up trying to make them both happy in her way. She's so caught up in order that she has forgotten what Pearl wants, that Pearl wants to be with her and go against any obstacle that stands in their way together. God i would have cried seeing that I'm not gonna lie. Maybe once Marina starts to think rationally, she breaks free from the machine and then leaps into Pearl's arms, and then we have to go back up the 30 floors to fight Overlorder and we slowly see Marina learn to embrace chaos throughout the floors instead of it just being at the final boss.

I really do feel like Splatoon has this issue of trying to appeal way too hard to kids and being really scared to dive into the flaws of these characters. They are so avoidant of being more serious and they hide it away in optional collectables and obscure posts on social media that creates misinformation and stories that feel way too undeveloped. They just say "oh this character has been brainwashed!!" which is such a lazy and bullshit trope they slap on these characters to avoid getting into their flaws for some stupid reason. (Hell that word has lost all meaning to me now to be honest. Like no, Callie wasn't "brainwashed" per say, hypnosis is not brainwashing or mind control I've said that a trillion times in other blog posts but whatever. Agent 3 was knocked out and had no clue on what was happening. They weren't "brainwashed" they were used as a puppet from a fucking goopy telephone for five minutes while they were asleep. Maybe its poor translation i don't know.)

I know that Splatoon is made for all ages and primarily for children but, i find that to be a stupid excuse for bad storytelling, a good story with depth that's explored and set up properly can be applied to all kinds of age groups not just adults. And the adults that say that shit too, why do you think like that? Why do you wish to dismiss that sort of thing in media? So what if it's made for kids? Adults write these stories and plant themes and arcs into them. Why do you think people cried over the Rosalina storybook in Mario Galaxy and think its the best part of that game? You don't want that kind of stuff in games because "they are made for kids"? Why do you think there are so many adults in the Splatoon community hmm?

I am so worried for Deep Cut in the next game because i really don't want this to happen again, i want an actual proper villain arc for either Frye or Shiver. No hypnosis, no brainwashing, no mind control. Just a pure fucking villain arc caused by the flaws of the characters and without the involvement of a third party. Please, i wanna see growth in these characters that is explored way more clearly and better. Or maybe don't do a villain arc again and just have Deep Cut be fully happy with each other and develop their relationship more with lore and backstory. PLEASE!

Anyways ramble over, thank you for reading!

[calicobigamy]

I can't be only one, right...?

I wanted to finish the game and then write this post but I gave up. I put in 100 plus hours and just could not go on once I got into act three. Maybe no one will hear my pitiful cry from the void, but I must scream for the sake of my sanity.

I was completely and utterly disappointed by Baldur's Gate 3. 

It had huge maps like an open world game yet I had no desire to explore the settings despite their beauty. It had hours of dialogue as an RPG would and yet I found myself skipping characters' responses. The game mechanic structure was inspired by DnD, a story-telling game dictated by some rules, lucky rolls and the extent of players' imagination, yet I was strong-armed into fighting impossibly stacked battles. A story-telling game dependent on the players’ attachment to their and their teammates' characters and yet this game lacked any kind of narrative consistency or depth of feeling. 

Larian wanted to make an open world RPG, based off of DND mechanics and somehow did the worst version of all three. The studio touts that Baldur’s Gate 3 has 17,000 possible endings and 2 million words, but to what end? What did this game have to say about what happens when people rise to the challenge and become heroes despite their circumstances or fall into the dark and become the monsters they were supposed to fight? What did it suggest might happen when fate deals you a bad hand but in doing so also helps you find true friends or love with the other? Ultimately, nothing. 

BG3 is so large that it ends up being incoherent. No writing or game structure decisions were made to keep the narrative tight and on theme. It urges players to choose a moral alignment, but most decisions, good or bad, seem to end up having little effect in the end. To play the game at all you have to resort to save scumming and that in turn deflates the possible impact of so many plot points of the narrative overall. 

Forcing players to save scum in order to progress through the game is terrible design in general. Statistically speaking the bosses make impossible critical hits again and again. I was playing in the game’s “casual mode” and found myself struggling to get through confrontations with bosses that were at a lower level than my own. If you are reading and thinking oh well you are probably not using tactics or spells well, etc., let’s do a little experiment…

Take your d20 (https://rolladie.net/roll-a-d20-die if you don’t have one in person). In the third act of BG3 I had an AC of 13 as a sorcerer with 100 plus HP. Roll your d20 ten times or more. How many times out of ten would your character have gotten to hit mine successfully? Unless an enemy is extremely lucky it should be unlikely that an enemy could hit my character every turn they get. And even if they do they would have to roll for damage which is only a single d6, d8, d10 or d12 plus a modifier at lower levels depending on your class. Again an enemy would have to have an extremely lucky roll to hit me every turn AND deal significant damage. During an in person DnD session that is just a bad night for my character. In a video game on casual mode that is significantly suspicious. 

So what you might say. You've made and enjoyed the fanart, memes and etc. You got your $61 worth of playtime. So many other people were fine with the game, what is your problem? 

I love video games. They blend so many artforms and tell stories in ways never done before. It is a medium unique to our current century and when historians look back they will view video games as an insight to our culture. 

It frustrates me to no end that Baldur’s Gate 3 is considered the next gold standard. Too many games have done open world and RPGs in a fantasy setting far better for Larian (Swen Vincke) to have made the design and writing choices they did with BG3. There are so many podcasts and shows that have written better stories through the DnD format. I am embarrassed for the medium as an artist and frustrated as a player. Players and the industry deserve better than to have artists, actors, engineers etc. burn themselves out creating maximalist behemoths like this game. A game that is beautiful but basically unplayable, narratively, nihilistic and incoherent. 

[the-monkey-ruler]

According to your opinion, what do you think would be SWK's best written romance or what would they be as for the adaptations? You know, not only does the romance appear and that's it, but does it develop or at least seem good to you?

Not to say there are bad romances, but I just wanted to ask.

Honestly, it depends on what you think is romantic.

There is a reason that the Chinese Odyssey is such a cult classic and it's not because they get together at the end, but rather because it explores the idea of self-expression and restricted freedom in the view of romance. Sun Wukong cannot exist unless Joker becomes him, and Joker cannot become Sun Wukong if he falls in love. He had the chance to love and he lost it, being forced to change who he is, knowing what he could have had. Chinese Odyssey became so popular because it explores what it means to sacrifice your own individuality and conform to societal expectations while still having slapstick humor.

And I won't lie and say that has also changed my view of romance with Wukong in that I do not think there can be a Retelling of Wukong where he gets with an SO. There can be great Reimangings or Alternative Universes (and there are) but if someone wants a faithful adaption of the story there can be additions such as adding a romantic subplot but in no circumstances can they end up together. And that could still be a good romantic story.

The quality of romance does not have to depend on a happy ending but one that relates to people and touches their hearts. I think the key to any romance is that connection to the audience, showing a level of genuine yearning and the struggle with that yearning that anyone can relate to when it comes to connecting to another person, romance or not.

Personally, I haven't seen a romance story done it better showing that desire for connection like Chinese Odessey since...

But I would say a close runner-up is the 1996 Journey to the West subplot within the show. As I think as far as relating to a character this is one that I found personally touched by.

In the 1996 Journey to the West is also not a one-to-one with the book as it follows more like a drama than an adventure story with deep character elements but still a wonderful adventure. This probably has the best tv live-action versions of the characters with just how in-depth they go with each character and we actively see them have their individual character arcs as they go from quarreling journeymates to a close-knit found family.

On one of these adventures they meet the Spider Sisters, but not all evil as one of the Sisters, Shishi, is trying to find her lost love from her past life. The gang helps her and Wukong RELUCTANTLY helps as well though he is distrustful of demons and sees no point in trying to find lost love. Shishi's sister, Enen, tags along as well and defends her sister's desire to find her lost love when to her, love is the most important thing in the world. But to Wukong he believes that learning Buddhism and teaching is what is most important. The more Enen and Wukong work together the more Enen falls in love with Wukong's compassion, heroism, and diligence, seeing him as someone to be admired and someone she wishes to impress as well.

The reason I adore this love story is that it is one-sided completely and I think that the narration does such a fantastic job of showing how much Wukong loves Enen has a friend and someone he cares about deeply but he just doesn't have romantic feelings for. I thought that the build-up of their relationship was fascinating in that Wukong comes to terms with seeing Enen as a good friend and someone who has changed his worldview that not all demons are after power, some are just living their lives, and just that knowing her platonically has made him a more compassionate person. But that is the issue in that Wukong's love for Enen is purely platonic and how he even refuses to compromise on his morals and lie to her that he feels the same when he loves her only as a friend.

Enen falls for Wukong because he is her friend and someone that she admires as well. She tries to become more like him by giving up meat and eating fruit and even trying to study Buddhism with him. She didn't do these acts because SHE wanted to, but rather so she could be closer to Wukong. But in the end (Enen loses her cultivation from a demon and asks Wukong to at least say 'I love you' before she turns back into her original form) she isn't able to make Wukong feel the same THOUGH NO FAULT OF HER OWN.

In my personal experience, I have felt this many times, when friends try to admit their feelings, and that soul-crushing burden of having to let them down gently. When you care about someone and are willing to support them or fight for them but the one thing you can't do is reciprocate their feelings. Wukong in this series is being hounded by both Bajie and Wujing to at least pretend for Enen's sake (she does uncultivated and returns to spider form but isn't dead) and when Wukong tells her that he does care for her but not in that way he is seen as the bad guy.

Enen did nothing wrong in falling for Wukong, but she wasn't able to accept that he just couldn't feel the same. And Wukong did nothing wrong in not feeling the same as he cares for his friend greatly but he cannot lie to himself or her how he feels because he respects her too much to lie. Bajie and Wujing both call him heartless but moreso that they feel so bad for Enen but Wukong is the one that has to carry the burden of her feelings for the rest of his life.

Some people might not see this as a love story at all but I think this is a type of love story that is very common and that people on both the receiving and the giving end can relate to. That dejection from rejection and opening your heart and thinking maybe if you change, or something is wrong with you, or that you are not good enough. That horrible feeling of guilt for things out of your control and not being able to give someone you deeply care about what they want and then feeling more guilt that there is something wrong with you for not feeling the same. I thought that the show has an advantage over movies as it gives the characters time and room to grow and change around each other. Wukong becomes more sympathetic to demons and even has a deeper understanding of the importance of love just by knowing Enen before she "died" and rather because she lived (and still lives) he still cares about her and wants her to live the best life she can.

Even in her spider form, even when she wouldn't be able to understand him, Wukong refuses to lie to her about his feelings but expresses that he wants her to live a good life, one that leads her to enlightenment and back to her human form. He cares so much about her but just not in the way that she wants. I think there is something very well done in how the show shows that it wasn't either of their faults and that while they can love one another you can't change people. People can only change if they want to change, and you can't force people to feel the same. There are different forms of love and each is important, and just because someone feels a different kind of love doesn't make it any less real.

To me, a love story is about connection and how the audience can feel themselves in the characters. Love can be scary and you're more often going to face rejection than anything but that doesn't mean it is anyone's fault. Sometimes people just don't feel the same, as much as they do care about you, and learning to accept that and let go is a part of growing up. As such I think that my favorite would be the 1996 subplot as I feel that is it both emotional and that it also still follows the Xiyouji format. Especially love Wukong going to the Red String of Fate guy (Yue Lao) and rewriting people's tragic love stories so they can live happily ever after!

I think that maybe I enjoyed this the most as I feel like it still captured Wukong's character wonderfully as someone who might not feel romantic feelings (following the book) but also someone who learns compassion and what it means to love another person. He knew what it was like for someone to love him and that is not something to be taken lightly. People being vulnerable and expressing their desire can be scary and something to be even admired but can still unavoidable cause pain. It wasn't his fault that he didn't like Enen back but he wanted her and even others to find that kind of love. He wants people to feel free to find comfort in connecting with another person even if it isn't himself.

That is to say, there aren't other romances that I did enjoy that are reciprocated love as well! Funny enough the ones that I really enjoy are all Japanese or based on the Saiyuki series.

Alakazam the Great (1960) 西遊記

Monkey Magic (1998) モンキーマジック

The New Legends of Monkey (2018) 新猴王传奇

I think the common factor of these is that Wukong in all these forms becomes a better person just by knowing their SO and take it upon themselves to become a better person, rather than the SO taking it upon themselves trying to 'fix' Wukong, I feel like that is an issue with a lot more modern romances of Wukong in that they are far too rushed, if Wukong does start off as a jerk then there is no real reason the SO should fall for him, and then Wukong doesn't stop being a jerk until the end when there is no proper resolution. It feels all very rushed and very forced.

I think that I enjoyed these versions mostly because they had the advantage of keeping the SO alive and they play on the trope of "changing for your loved ones" rather than "getting character development because of SO's death." We see Wukong in 1960 slowly relearn what it means to be humble and grateful to his SO Rinrin with her undying (literally) devotion and how this dedication leads to him wanting to be a better person deserving to be by her side. Monkey Magic 1998 is a surprising one but one that I found charming nonetheless as Goku is a hotheaded and impulsive person but everything he does is for his friends one being Fenya. They never confirmed their relationship but she is the only one who never treats Goku differently after he becomes the king and even when he demands her to call him as such she never lets him forget his humble roots which by the end he learns to return to. The last New Legends 2018 is also surprising as I really didn't enjoy the plot of this show and found the pacing painful, but that Monkey and Tripitaka's relationship was something that had a lot of potential. From Monkey's arrogant attitude and Tripitaka's deception of her true identity, I thought that the show handled them slowly but surely coming to trust and rely on each other. I feel like the show could do a lot more with their character development but I doubt we are getting a third season.

I will say a guilty pleasure of mine is Monkey King 2014 just cause it is more of an innocent childhood crush kind of feeling than anything else. I'm sad that she still dies but I feel like out of the Wukong romances I have seen (please note I haven't seen them all) I can see why the SO would fall for Wukong as he was nothing but sweet and kind to her and that I was sad to see her go.

[i-am-the-oyster]

Can you tell me about Lewisohn and why he’s so hated? I’m a bit new here and I was recommended a blog that is solely dedicated to hating this guy. Was he a homophobe or did he do something rude to the boys?

Hello anon! I feel your pain. Lewisohn is a controversial figure, and it can be hard to get a read on what people think of him and why.

Lewisohn is writing what he hopes will be the definitive history of the Beatles. He has so far completed volume 1 (which covers from before they were born till 1962), as well as several other books from before he started working on the series.

He is very popular with some parts of the fandom because he has done really extensive research and is considerably better than other authors I could name.

But, there are some serious issues with his work.

First of all, his author bios tend to call him "the acknowledged authority" and his wiki article refers to him as a "historian". I would be slow to apply either of those terms to him. His training and experience are in journalism, and he does not apply modern standards of historical research to his work.

Secondly while his writing is engaging (I read the extended version of Tune In and missed it when it was over) his analysis is often lacking in empathy. For example, he tells us (ad nauseam) how "mean" and "cheap" Paul was, but doesn't take any time to consider the money and family issues Paul was facing that a) didn't apply to the others b) might have caused such behaviour. If the most ambitious and diligent musician in the group won't buy himself a new guitar, maybe he has a reason, you know?

Thirdly, he's weirdly dismissive of oral accounts. Liverpool locals figured out where Paul had his paper round, but it wasn't on a piece of paper, so as far as ML was concerned it didn't count.

Fourthly (this list is getting long) he had some kind of falling out with Paul (and Apple Corps) around 2009. He went from being invited to write Paul's biography to being dis-invited. It's not clear exactly what when on between them, but ML has not acknowledged that it might impact his objectivity wrt his writing.

Fifth he completely ignores queer issues. There's a part where he sort of darkly hints about George's sexuality, but in a childish heternormative way. His treatment of Brian's sexuality isn't completely terrible, but neither is it fantastic. I'd be amazed if he ever addresses the evidence for, eg, John's bisexuality.

One of the most difficult things for me is that he's overtly racist against the Irish in the worst self-satisfied Brit way (apologies to my British readers if that sounds harsh, but it is A Thing).

I would still recommend reading it, but as with all books on the Beatles, you must take it with a pinch of salt. Go in aware of his bias against Paul and his hero-worship of John, and there's a lot to be gained from reading the book, in my opinion.

And I really hope that he'll eventually pass on his extensive research collection as a public resource for actual historians to comb over and analyse.

@wingsoverlagos and @mythserene have done some detailed analysis of specific problems with his work, especially his terrible citation "style". (He merges quotes from different contexts, adds words in square brackets that change the meaning, chops out relevant information, and more). Some of those posts might seem a bit vitriolic if you're coming at them cold, but once you know the context the ire makes sense.

For a really in-depth analysis of the problems with his treatment of Paul in Tune In check out @anotherkindofmindpod's series Fine Tuning.

[epivanosilon]

reading demon slayer: chapter 40 panel comparison

hey everyone :) before i do the usual posts for this chapter i wanted to try something a little different. there was one panel in particular that bothered me in chapter 40, and i decided i should write about it to get it off my mind. i don't think i've done an in-depth comparison between the original japanese and official english versions of any demon slayer panels before, so let me know if this is something any of you are interested in!

the panel in question today is of tanjirou's father speaking to tanjirou in his flashback at the beginning of the chapter. below i have the original japanese on the right and the official english translation on the left.

i'll transcribe the text from each for anyone who needs it.

in japanese:

炭治郎この神楽と耳飾りだけは必ず途切れさせず継承していってくれ。約束なんだ

in english:

Tanjiro, be sure you have these earrings when it's time to do the kagura! Wear them always so you don't lose them. Promise me!

when i saw these panels side by side, i was baffled at how different they were. right off the bat i noticed that all the main words were present in the english translation, but the details had changed! and that results in a translation that carries completely different meanings from the original. let's go over each speech bubble individually.

for the first bubble, the words "kagura" (神楽) and "earrings" (耳飾り) are both present, but most everything else is not. whoever was translating seems to have parsed the と as when instead of and. to be fair, that's a valid usage for that particle in many cases. however, this is not one of those cases. notice that in the original japanese the phrase is 「この神楽と耳飾りだけ」. literally, just this kagura and [these] earrings. we'll need to go to the next speech bubble to get the rest of the sentence.

the second bubble reads 「途切れさせず継承していってくれ」, literally continue the inheritance of [them] for me without letting [the inheritance] be interrupted. or in more natural english, pass [them] down for me without interruption. together with the first bubble, we get something like without fail, pass down just this kagura and these earrings for me without interruption.

(i believe that the だけ is there to emphasize that tanjirou must focus on the kagura and the earrings above all else. i don't want to present my feelings as fact, though, so i'll keep it translated as just.)

tanjirou's father is not asking tanjirou to wear the earrings at all, and he certainly doesn't tell him to make sure to have them "when it's time to do the kagura". he's asking tanjirou to remember the kagura and keep the earrings so that he can pass them on to his children in the future, and his children to their children, and so on.

the text in the third bubble reinforces this. tanjirou's father says 約束なんだ, literally it's a promise. 約束なんだ is not a request or a command, it is a statement. and i might be biased because i've already read all of demon slayer in english, but to me that line implies that it is tanjirou's father who made the promise, not tanjirou. which, if you're familiar with the later arcs of demon slayer, is exactly what happened.

a more fitting translation for this panel, in my opinion, could have looked like this:

Tanjiro, if nothing else, make sure to pass on this kagura and these earrings for me. I made a promise.

some information is lost, like the 途切れさせず part, but i think the overall message is roughly the same.

i really don't get why the official english translation is the way it is for this panel. it seems...out of character, almost, because there really haven't been such drastic liberties taken up to now. at least, as far as i can remember. a few choices i found strange, for sure, but nothing like this. that's way above my pay grade, though.

and with that, i'm all out of things to say about this panel! if you read to the end, thank you very much, and i hope you enjoyed the post (or at least learned something from it). please look forward to the next posts! 読んでくれてありがとう！次の投稿を楽しみにしてください！

[devnmon]

Long, Long Time.

'Cause I've done everything I know To try and make you mine And I think I'm gonna love you For a long, long time

Summary: Irrevocably in love with the woman you can’t have, a wine drunk night over classical reading and a fireplace aids in decision making.

Ao3 version | tess masterlist

prequel fic

Warnings: smut [a tiny bit], reader hopelessly in love with Tess, use of y/n (a couple times); based on ep 3 of TLOU

wc: 13k

A/n: Okay ummm first of all don’t blame me for writing this much on one character that i’ve never written before, but this fic is literally my baby. It’s my favorite thing i’ve written. I thought it was my turn to take a spin with writing for Tess. Since tlou came out i’ve been obsessed with her and… well you can tell by how much I wrote. Here it is, my perfect Tess fic. Enjoy <3

Today was the day.

A warm morning in September, 20 years after the Cordyceps infection sunk into the deepest depths of society, crumbling down its once high, strong walls, to a brittle, cracked dictatorship of community. The Boston Quarantine Zone was one of your least favorite places in the world, but from what you heard about other cities' QZ's, it was a walk in the park.

As a smuggler, you handled runs for more than 75% of the place, with the help of a few desperate FEDRA officers that offered to look the other way for a price.

If risking your life for bottles of pills and useful supplies was the most dangerous thing to do, then so be it; you were the unlucky one.

Most runs, you were accompanied by one of your two partners, Tess Servopolous or Joel Miller. They were older, skilled, smart, and resourceful, and they knew how to kill. Especially Tess. She could handle her own like it was nobody's business. Hard headed and courageous, Tess became a good partner and soon enough, a close friend.

Although, there was another part of you that found her alluring, captivating and so, so gorgeous. She was confident in herself no matter what, which only drew you towards her more.

Ever since the early days of the outbreak, you three had each other's backs, and nothing could come between you. To you, they were the only thing you'd known after being found by the older woman and taken in. The day she found you, beat up and bloody with several injuries, was the day she had quite genuinely saved your life.

Now a part of Joel and Tess's smuggling business, you were off to a town called Lincoln, a five hour hike from the walls of the QZ.

The hot sun glared down on your skin, a chill September breeze flowing in gusts that kept you cooled off enough throughout your journey.

A majority of the trip was spent in silence, lost in your enamor for Tess, eyes trailing over the back of her figure. She had glanced back once or twice at you, like she could feel your eyes burning into her body.

Some nights you lay awake wondering what it would be like to drag your fingers up and down the expanses of her skin, trailing over her back and caressing the soft skin of her figure till you fell asleep.

Time passed as you traveled behind Tess and Joel, and the image of a metal fence coming into view.

"This is it," Joel stated before approaching the gate. You begin to follow the two older individuals before you pause, stopping a minute to remember something that Frank had mentioned about their gate.

"Wait, I thought you said this thing was booby-trapped or something.. How do we know it won't get triggered?" The concern of your safety was imminent, the unknown patiently waiting behind the metal gates.

"Well we don't, but Frank said if we came from the road instead of the forest that it wouldn't get triggered. They'd see us coming that way, too. Trust me, I know Frank. He wouldn't lie, not when he knows we can work together."

Tess was the expert on the two men that lived behind the gates of the completely deserted town; she was the one who arranged their meeting, after all.

"Alright.." You sighed, walking right up to the gate with them.

There was a box attached to the entry gate with a few buttons on it. You watched Joel walk up to the gate and press a button labeled 'Call'.

A loud buzzing sounded out after he'd pushed the red button in, and a moment later, a male voice responded from the intercom.

"Password."

The voice sounded deeper than Frank's, only assuming the speaker was Bill, the other half of the couple that resided in Lincoln.

"Uh- Ahem," Joel cleared his throat, before stating the code word Frank had given you three before coming.

The feedback rang out as Joel spoke, another buzzing sound coming from the gate as you hear it unlock.

"Alright, let's go. Keep an eye out for anything suspicious, since we really don't know what we're walkin' into here."

Tess scoffed at her male partner's words, a smirk on her face saying otherwise from your tense anxiety of meeting new people.

"Tess, hey," you grabbed her arm ever so softly as you trailed behind her, and she looked toward you, "Are you sure we can trust these guys?"

A tiny smile formed on her face as she recognized your nervousness. She thought it was adorable and sweet how you went to her for comfort at any point in time. It warmed her heart and made her feel important to somebody again.

"Yeah, I'm sure. Frank wouldn't hurt a fly. Bill on the other hand.. he might be a bit standoffish at first. From what Frank said, I'm sure he'll warm up to us with time. Don't worry."

Tess rubbed your arm up and down a couple times, hoping it would soothe your worries. As she did, your face broke out into a small smile, nodding before you dropped your grip and continued walking. You could get lost in the hazel of her eyes like it was hypnosis, or something close to that. The way Tess made your world stop by even being in your presence was something entirely familiar to you, and it kept you up at night, pondering about the simplest things.

It seemed the little town of Lincoln, Massachusetts was surrounded by this perfect bubble of safety and security. Like a dream, the familiarity of a place as different from the QZ.. felt a bit unreal. You never thought you'd have the chance to make friends in a world with infected, much less one with access to such a large range of supplies in a deserted town, highly protected by its sole residents.

The feeling surrounding you was oddly similar to how you felt around Tess, her warmth and beauty heart-warming, much like a hug.

Your focus is brought back to reality as you almost bump into Tess's back, her and Joel had abruptly stopped walking.

"Oof- sorry Tess-"

"Y/n.." Joel says abruptly, not realizing they're both holding their hands out to the side, the cocking of what sounded like a gun putting the realization into place.

"Shit.." You whispered, stepping out from behind Tess, arms out in the same fashion as your partners, and you realize there's a man holding a gun out at the three of you.

Then, from the house the man stood in front of, another man came running out. He calls the name of the man who's holding his pistol at you, Bill.

Which means.. that's Frank. You thought to yourself, as the sweater-wearing man approached and tried to beckon the other man to lower his weapon.

"Bill, these are the people I met over the radio. We can trust them.. they aren't going to hurt us. Put the gun down, please? I don't want to scare off people we could potentially be working with.." The man named Frank said with a chuckle, almost having to force the gun down himself. After another moment of brooding stares being passed between Bill and Joel, he lowers the gun and places it in his holster at his thigh.

Your hands drop to your sides after freezing with them out in the air due to fear. It wasn't the first time someone's pointed a gun at you, but it sure as hell was one of the times you thought someone would actually shoot. Relief washed over you as Bill's arms lowered.

"Perfect, thank you," Frank says to Bill, before wrapping his arm around the man's shoulder, "Welcome to our home, I'm Frank, and this is Bill. I'm so glad to finally meet you guys. We have a lot to talk about! Come on, follow me."

Frank had a home-like smile that was warm and welcoming. It was the first time in a long time you'd seen anyone smile like that. So carefree. You guessed it was the effect of not being behind the walls of a QZ for too long. That, or Frank knew how to stay true to himself in such a rugged, rough around the edges world.

The uncomfortable gaze Bill shot your way made you realize that it probably took a lot for him to even agree to let the three of you come into their town, much less want to work with complete strangers.

While being led back to Bill and Frank's home, you can't help but marvel at everything around you. Lincoln was much different than the QZ and open city; a town quite literally frozen in time from when it had been evacuated. A place like this was one you dreamed of settling down in, with a partner before the outbreak; it seemed like the perfect place to do so. Quiet, quaint, and bare of any infected or dangerous militia and resistance groups.

As their home came into view, it was exactly as you thought it'd be: another one of the huge houses a place like suburbia always had. It was one of the biggest you'd ever seen, almost out of a storybook. Except for the leaves blowing through the streets, it was as if the house hadn't aged a day. Everything about their home and its surrounding yard looked as if it had been tended to regularly; a mowed lawn, bushes with budding flowers, and not a single area of chipped paint to be seen.

"This is our place, I do my best to keep it looking its best and Bill... well he's just one hell of a cook. Aren't you, dear?" Frank turned to Bill with a smile, only to look away from his lover and back at you three.

"It's true, one of the many things I'm good at. Including defending my home." Bill's hand went to the gun strapped on his thigh.

"Yes, of course you are. Now, could you whip us up some lunch while I get to know our lovely guests here?" Frank turns his head towards Bill again.

"But-" Bill begins to speak, wanting to name all the reasons he doesn't want to leave his lover alone with strangers. Though, you notice Frank is quick to reassure Bill that everything will be alright.

"I'll be fine, I promise. They aren't going to hurt me, I've been extra careful with who I talk to, you know that. These people aren't dangerous. At least not to us." Frank's smile breaks Bill's resolve, trusting his lover enough to retreat into the house with haste.

Now alone with Frank, he guides the three of you over to the table on their lawn. You sit down next to Tess on your right side and Frank on the left.

"So.. Tess, I assume the lovely man you arrived with is the famous Joel Miller?" Frank turned to Joel with his hand out, receiving a firm handshake and nod from the Texan man.

"And you must be..." He turns to you.

"I'm y/n, the secret.. not-so-secret third partner." You laughed awkwardly, feeling somewhat out of place with the man and woman.

"That's right, I've only heard your name a handful of times, but it is so nice to finally meet you in person." Frank read your nervous state like a book, giving you peace of mind with a warm smile. Your nervous state diminishes when Frank's words set in, easing a smile onto your face and raising your eyebrows in slight surprise.

He's heard of me? I wonder what Tess's told him...

"It's nice to meet you too, Frank."

The four of you conversed with small talk, only butting in here and there to add something in, mostly keeping to yourself and not wanting to make the wrong impression on Frank. Tess and Joel discuss the details of a trading business between you all.

Soon enough, Bill began to come out with plates and silverware, to which Frank jumped up to help with setting the table.

"I can help if-" You started to speak, feeling a little guilty at not doing anything to help out as a guest.

"No, no. Sit, relax. You're our guests here, and I'm sure your trip has been long and tiring. Besides, it's been a while since I've set the table for more people than just me and Bill, and it's something I've always loved doing." Frank's kind smile once again eases your worries. But you swore to yourself you'd find a way to repay them for this.

You nodded as the two men made several trips to set the table, appreciating every little thing they added to it one after another. Spices, napkins, fine china plates and silverware with no scratches or rust on them. It was all a marvelous sight, one that reminded you of the old world and missing little things like this in times like these.

The amount of objects they'd placed on the table made you forget just how many of those material things you realized living without was doable. Even if you wished there were more aspects of the old world in the present one.

Fiddling with your thumbs again, you listened in to Joel and Tess's muttering about whether or not they could convince the two males on agreeing to work together, until you heard an exclamation from Tess.

"Oh my god.."

Your head jolted up towards the woman, about to ask her the reason for her outburst, until you picked up what had caught her attention.

The smell of fresh, hot food surrounded the three of you, hunger scraping at the edges of your stomach, making it even more evident that your last meal hadn't been as much of a hearty one as you'd wished. Dishes with meat and vegetables were all neatly placed in the same portion sizes as Frank and Bill put each plate down.

Before you dug in, you heard a familiar pop of cork from what you could only assume was a wine bottle. Sure enough, as you looked at Frank, the bottle he'd brought out resembled one you'd buy for a nice meal like this.

It wasn't until you heard the same cocking of Bill's pistol that you froze in your place. You watched as he placed it on the table for you all to see, a statement of protection and untrustworthiness he clearly still saw in the three of you.

Maybe not you or Tess specifically, but Joel, most definitely.

You decide to ignore the firearm's presence on the table, and begin eating the food that's so delicately placed on each of your plates. Instead of scarfing it all down like some rabid animal, you savored each bite of the flavorful, nutritious food and sip of wine like it was your last.

It might as well have been, since you had no idea whether or not you would be working together.

You wondered how people even ate on china plates that were as delicate and prettily detailed in the most extravagant ways. The silverware and wine glasses were also detailed and etched in such a beautiful way. It made you appreciate the smallest things before you had to go without them again.

A while passes, and everyone's finishing their food up. Light gusts of wind flow through Tess's hair as you look over to her, holding the glass of wine in her hand.

"Well, this really is just-- it's amazing." A slight smile on her face brings warmth to your chest, heating your body despite the cool air.

"Right?" Frank looks from Tess to Bill, who still has his pistol on the table, "Can you not please?"

He reaches over Tess's glass to fill it with the dark red alcohol, then reaches over to yours to do the same as you smile at him.

"I'm the same way," Joel states, understanding where Bill's actions are coming from. You realized in that moment that Bill and Joel are more alike than you thought.

"Oh, you're a paranoid schizophrenic too?" There's a slight chuckle that sounds out from you and Tess as Frank speaks.

"I'm not schizophrenic." Bill suddenly retorts, knowing the validity behind the methods to his madness.

Tess clears her throat, attempting to break the awkward tension that's so clearly grown between Bill and Joel.

"Well can I just say, gun aside, which I get, by the way, how nice this is to have a civilized meal in such a beautiful place? It's been so long. I mean it, I just- I wanna thank you. Even if we don't end up working together. I really needed this."

Her words seemed genuine, a slight twinge of silent and repressed pain in what she said. You only knew an extent of Tess's emotional wounds, ones she pushed down to do her job better.

As Frank lifts his wine glass to Tess with a small smile, he states, "We are working together."

The two clink their glasses together, making you raise yours to do the same.

"Cheers." Tess and Frank clink their glasses, and then Tess turns to you in the same fashion, quickly lifting your glass to clink together.

You all finish up your meals, occasionally glancing over to Tess with appreciation that you got to share something this special with your best friend.

And then the realization hit you, she was only your best friend, and you'd wanted to be more with her since she'd revealed a different side of her to you throughout the years. It was a kind, warm, caring side of Tess that made her feel like the familiarity of those strawberry candies that were hard on the outside, but soft, sweet and gooey on the inside. Tess was rough around the edges, but when she was alone with you were the times she revealed a softer side of herself.

Frank hadn't glanced anywhere other than Tess and Joel, picking up the way they discussed with one another, as if they were good business partners and friends. He'd been blinded by the fact that you sat furthest from Joel, barely even glancing his way for a split second.

The moment Frank gets a good look at you at the table is when he picks up on the way you look at Tess; it's different than the way you look at Bill and Joel, and by god does it open his eyes a mile wide. He only hides it behind his all-knowing warm persona and recognizes a light in your eyes that he saw similarly in Bill's the minute before he'd kissed him, that one day in 2007. Three years later, he saw that same spark of light in you, whenever your eyes glazed over to the only other woman at the table.

The warm younger man looks to his partner, who's anything but, to reassure you all again.

"We are." A moment passes as he sips from the wine glass and speaks again, "You know what? Let's go inside. Tess and y/n, I wanna show you something."

Frank begins to stand, lifting his wine glass from the table, Tess following next before you stand as well.

"Oh yes, it sounds amazing, I'd love to see inside." Now more sociable with the two glasses of wine in your system, you catch your balance before pushing your chair out from the table.

"Actually, I have been wanting to see inside, thank you."

Your words and Tess's overlap at the same time, chuckling a little at the synchronized movements and words between you and the older woman.

"Bring your wine. There's more inside."

"No, not inside. Frank.. Frank!" Bill's voice echoes from the table, as Frank holds the front door open for you two.

You're looking down at your feet as you walk up the porch and into the house, unaware that Tess was glancing back every few seconds to see if you followed. As you step inside, you wipe your boots off on the mat and Frank shuts the door behind him.

Your eyes finally pull away from the mat you've wiped your boots off on, to the inside of Bill and Frank's home. A deep breath of air fills your lungs to the brim as the sight of it all is a bit overwhelming.

"Wow..." you sigh, Frank stood behind you, Tess a few feet ahead, "I haven't seen anything like this in so.. long..."

You trail off as the sight of it all renders you speechless. There's candelabras with fresh wax from candles and picture frames with black and white photos. The image of inside makes it feel like a home, something you haven't felt in a very long time.

"Come on, it's right over here." Frank speaks out loud to the both of you, only you're still standing a few feet in front of the door, as the two walk into the open room just right of the stairway.

"Oh wow, look at these photo albums! I haven't seen one of these in forever.. Are they all Bill's?" Tess's voice carries to you from the other room, noticing her slight chuckle as you gaze over to where she's flipping through one of the albums.

"Yeah, yeah they are. Just don't tell him I showed you.." The two continue to giggle to themselves over the old pictures.

"Oh my gosh, I didn't even notice the extensive vinyl collection.. You know, I used to have a turntable back in college. I'd play the same old records every day, annoyed the hell out of my roommates.." Tess chuckles as she talks about her past life, something you always enjoyed hearing about when she brought it up.

With you, she could bring up anything from her old life, and you'd listen to every word.

You still had the suspicion that she and Joel had a thing going on, and your not-so-little crush on her was doing more harm for you than good in that aspect.

Tess and Frank are looking through the collections of vinyl and photos while you nonchalantly watch from afar, eyes glazing over to the massive shelves of books. Most of the ones on lower shelves were Bill's books on survival and guns, but the ones resting on the higher shelves were classics.

Before the outbreak, you'd been a sucker for those. There was something about the art of classic literature, the subtext and deeper meanings under every word. The beauty of those stories was unmatched.

I'd love to read one of those over some wine.. Matter of fact-

"Hey Frank? Where's that other bottle of wine?" You call out to him from the doorway, with your glass still in hand. Frank glances over to you from a few feet away.

"It's in the fridge, wine opener is uh- somewhere in there. You'll find it."

"Okay, thanks."

You finally break off from the two, eyes glazing over every single picture Bill and Frank have of themselves in their home, as well as the paintings Frank's done of Bill and himself.

Striding into the other room, the kitchen was in a state of what looked freshly used; pots and pans were everywhere, the scent of once heated oil lingering.

Your curious eyes peel over all the older pictures, then notice one in color that's stuck to the fridge with a rainbow magnet.

A twinge in your chest comes as well as joy for the two men that happened to find each other among a world of infected and dictatorships.

You just wish it would have happened to you already.

Bill must have had some vintage cameras lying around, ones Frank knew how to use, or learned to use for things like this. You crouched closer to look at the picture of the two men, bodies pressed together and hands clasped in each other's like they never wanted to let go.

And in such a world, why would they want to?

You pull the refrigerator door open, spotting the unopened bottle of red wine in the door. Reaching for it, you read the label, Beaujolais.

Huh, fancy name for a wine. It'll get me drunk all the same though.. Now where is that damn cork opener?

You're rummaging around in the kitchen drawers until you finally find it, oblivious to the fact that Tess has walked up behind you in your haste to find the damn thing. Her grey shirt is unbuttoned, with a white tee underneath. She always had the simplest style, but it didn't stop her from looking fucking stunning in anything she wore. Tess makes her presence known to you, arms folded across her chest as she leans against the doorway. Picturesque light chestnut strands of hair frame the soft features of her face.

"Whatcha got there?" your body whips around, wine bottle and opener in each of your hands (and almost slipping from them), to which Tess smirks a little at the sight.

You were surprised to not have heard the sound of her boots on the wooden floor, but Tess always had a way of surprising you like that.

You smile sheepishly, raising the bottle and wine opener in both your hands. Truth was, Tess popped in at the perfect time; you could never get the hang of opening things like this.

Opening bottles of liquor for you was always Tess's thing, since you didn't have the skill or strength for it. Your hands were just naturally smaller than hers as well, which meant it was only a job for a person with bigger hands.

How you wished you could hold them.

"Just in time. Could you open this for me? It's more your thing than mine.. Please? Before I drop it or something.."

Tess strides towards you and grabs both objects from your hands. She inserts the opener into the cork and twists until the similar pop from earlier indicates she'd removed it, the wine's aroma filling the area between you two.

Her strength was so attractive, the way she could make the simplest things such as opening a wine bottle look hot. The veins in her hands protruded when her grip strained, making you wonder what her hands would look like doing different things.

Tess lifts the cork to her nose, smelling the wine more intensely now, looking angelic as she breaths it in. Then, she lifts it to your nose, the gesture so familiar to you, but yet you've never seen Tess in a moment like this before.

The scent of the liquor paired with how Tess looks in the sunlight peering through the window is intoxicating in itself, as she places the bottle on the counter. Glancing outside, the golden light began to fade fast, darkness approaching quicker than you'd like it to.

With a smile, you walk over to the countertop and pour yourself another glass of wine.

"Thanks... you'll have to teach me that sometime." You couldn't tell if the flush on your cheeks was from the wine, or the gesture Tess just did for you.

"Yeah, but then what would you need me for?" Tess cocks her head to the side, a slight smirk on her face again. That damn smirk.

Rolling your eyes, you scoffed.

As if I could ever go without you, Theresa.

"Oh, please. I'll always need you, Tess."

"Right.. So, Frank said we could stay the night, since it's more dangerous to travel when it isn't daytime. Our visit was longer than expected.." Tess's eyes move from you to outside, where Bill and Joel were still sat, discussing in what looked like a more civilized way than earlier.

"They have enough room for us?" You asked, sipping at the red wine.

"Yeah, they've got two extra bedrooms. So, I figure you and I could share one and give Joel the other room for himself. Plus they said we could use their shower," Tess shuffled closer to you and lowered her voice, "I hear they have hot water.."

Your eyes widened at the thought of a hot shower, something you hadn't realized was accessible anymore. Though, before speaking, you cleared your throat to minimize any indication of nervousness in the fact that you and Tess would be sharing a bed tonight.

"You sure you wouldn't rather room with Joel? I.. move around a lot in my sleep."

A confused look displays itself across Tess's face.

"I mean- I wouldn't want you to wake up with me on top of you or.. anything.." A nervous chuckle erupts from your chest as you laugh your awkwardness off.

"I think that second bottle of wine is what I should be worried about, not your restlessness." She smirks again, "But have fun with that. I'm gonna go wash up. Talk later?"

You only nodded, not wanting to embarrass yourself in front of your best friend any more.

As Tess left the room, the strain of your journey finally set in. Soles of your feet began to twinge with pain, carrying you to the next room with the wine bottle and glass in hand.

You saunter into the living room, the amount of wine you've consumed making your cheeks, not to mention your whole body, flush with heat. The weight of your figure flopped down in a corner of the room as you placed the wine bottle down.

You gulped at the rest of the liquid in your glass, putting it on the side table. Gazing around the room at all the vintage items in perfect condition, your eyes meet the tall shelf of classic literature once again.

Pulling yourself from the chair, you pick up the bottle of wine by its neck, instead of pouring yourself another glass.

They're not gonna miss one little bottle... they've got a whole vineyard to themselves.

It's then you hear the front door open finally, Bill and Joel coming in, their discussion a little lighter than the one they were having earlier. You hear a chuckle fall from Joel in his Texan accent and your eyebrows raise.

Wow, they're finally getting along. Maybe we will have new business partners after all..

You stumble over to the bookshelf, about three glasses of wine making your bodily strength diminish with every sip you took. You were in a more tipsy state than usual; not having drank alcohol for years had more of an effect on you than it usually would.

The higher bookshelves are littered with dust, not having been touched since who knows when; you're just tall enough to drag your fingers across the top shelf on your tippy toes, the one below it littered with the many classic stories.

Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen, Little Women by Louisa May Alcott, Lady Chatterley's Lover by D.H. Lawrence, Emma by Jane Austen.

You read the titles off in your head, fingers trickling over the necks of each hardcover novel, stopping at Little Women and pulling it from the bookshelf. You also grabbed Pride and Prejudice, planning to ask Frank or Bill in the morning to borrow them till your next visit.

Slumping over in the chair again, you open Little Women, pages crinkling as the smell of the vintage book hits your face. It almost makes you sneeze, but you stifle it and begin reading.

You're mumbling to yourself in the little cozy corner of Frank and Bill's house, perched in a red armchair, and it's the most domestic you've ever seen yourself be in a long time. Granted, you were becoming more intoxicated with each gulp of the bitter alcohol you ingested. It floods your insides with warmth, your train of thought sidetracking from the story in your hand to the thought of the gorgeous woman that was Tess Servopolous.

She felt like home, the sweet smile she revealed to you your favorite thing about her. Her hardened exterior cracked and withered away bit by bit with every day you lay in her apartment healing from your injuries.

You're pulled out of the daydream when footsteps descend down the stairway, until the figure turns the corner. Frank's face comes into the warm lamp light, silently walking into the room and fiddling around with a few things before making his way over nearby where you sat.

Over the edges of the book, you watch him grab a few logs of firewood, placing one in the brick fire pit, before lowering your eyes back to the book. A few more minutes pass of his fidgeting before you realize the fireplace has come alive with flames of light.

Waves of heat flood the room, completely bringing your attention away from the book in your hands.

"No way..." Your voice draws Frank's eyes to you.

"Way. You know, my favorite thing to do in the fall is make fires.. Bonfires, campfires, any kind of natural warmth feels so home-like and safe. Don't you think so?"

"Yeah.. my childhood home had such a nice fireplace like this. It's really nice to see and feel again after so long." The two of you share a smile and look at the fire. Flames crackle and burn high, popping at times, the same way it used to before. Silence is adamant throughout the room, clutching the novel in your arms as the flames continue to burn.

"So.. you gonna tell me what's got you slumped over in a corner reading classic literature? I can't imagine it's that riveting.." Frank's tone tells you that he's joking, but you can't help from being at least a little offended in your drunken state.

"Classic literature is actually my favorite genre of novel, for your information. And you wouldn't get it…" The irony of your words slaps you in the face the minute they manifest themselves because.. Frank does know what it's like to feel the way you do. He’s just still in the dark about it.

"Hey, hey. You can tell me what's going on. I may or... may not have any experience on what you're going through."

Then the realization sets in that he's probably felt the way you do his whole life.

It's at that moment you decide to trust him. You close the book over, and look Frank in the eye.

"Okay, but this stays between us. Promise?"

"Of course."

A sigh leaves your chest and you begin to tell him how you feel about a certain one of your smuggling partners.

"Tess saved me... however many years ago it was... I can't remember how long it's been now. I've just always been around her since then. She's done things for me and- and I've done things for her... But I never knew why I always wanted to be around her.. until one night when I had a really, really rough day and she comforted me. I never wanted to leave her arms, and that's when I realized.. I liked her. She's my best friend, Frank.. What would I do if she doesn't feel the same? I don't think I could live with myself if I ruin our friendship because of some stupid fucking crush."

You finished speaking, letting out another sigh like you'd just thrown up all the thoughts reverberating in your head the second you made it out of the QZ walls.

Frank's silent until he speaks, analyzing and connecting dots in his head about this afternoon and the way you'd been acting.

"All that... doesn't sound just like a little crush to me, hon. You love her.. and you want what's best for her. Protecting yourself from the hypothetical hurt of her not feeling the same is valid.. but you're not gonna know how she feels about you if you don't tell her. Take the night, and think on it. Or... go ahead and keep on reading your classic literature while the love of your life goes to sleep upstairs. I'm just saying, if you don't try, then what's the point?"

The next time you look Frank in the eyes, they're filled with kindness, and you can tell he sees you for who you really are. There's no hiding your true self around him, he reads you the same way he read Bill the day he fell in that hole in the ground.

"You know what, you're right. I'm gonna take the night to think about it, thanks, Frank. I don't know what I'd do if I was alone in this."

Frank places his hand over yours in a compassionate and friendly way. He understood where you'd been coming from, especially with the way you both were.

The rest of your night is spent cuddling up under a blanket Frank had placed over your legs before he headed up to bed for the night. The wine drunk put you in an exhausted state, eyelids as heavy as weights until you ended up falling asleep curled up in the chair, fire dwindling away to nothing but embers.

A nudge to your arm slightly pulls you from your slumber, wine bottle abandoned on the floor from earlier. The next thing you feel is a strong grip lifting your body from the chair. With a groan, your arms flail weightlessly to the side, as you're picked up bridal style, the creaking under the wood indicating you were being carried up the stairs.

It's probably Joel who's lifted you like this with no effort at all, no chance it was Frank or Bill. Tess was already asleep too, and once she rested her head, there was no waking her. She slept like a rock.

You figure you're finally up the stairs as the steps steady, pushing the door open silently to the dark bedroom. Finally, you're placed down onto the soft bed, boots being tugged from your feet and placed on the floor. Rolling over a bit, you groan at the comfortable state of the bed.

Already comforted by the blankets, the heat of your body diminishes in the cool, dark room, as you doze off to sleep for the night.

As morning peeks through the shades of the cool bedroom, a pounding headache rammed behind your skull as your eyes inch open. Fluttering profusely, your pupils adjust to the rays of sunlight slowly, head still spinning.

Groaning at the pain, your eyes shift from the window to the side table, where there'd been a glass of water and two pills of Tylenol placed next to a small piece of paper. You sit upright in the bed, truly unable to recall the events of the previous night. The only thing you remembered vaguely was that second bottle of wine, one you regretted even picking up.

You reached for the note, headache only pounding harder as you attempted to read it.

For your head, since you really thought that second bottle of wine was a good idea. We've got breakfast made when you feel well enough. - Frank

It's at that moment you realize your mouth is bone dry, concluding on the fact that you hadn't drank one drop of water last night. As if a desperate plea for the quenching of your thirst, you drop the note in your lap abruptly, gravitating towards the very full glass of water sitting just a foot away.

The liquid slides down your throat as you desperately gulp it down, only stopping for a moment to pop both Tylenol into your mouth. After finishing the glass of water, you look down at the note again.

Signed Frank, but I've seen this handwriting before. Somewhere.. My hungover brain cannot remember right now for the life of me.

A yawn breaks through your chest, your hand instinctively going up to cover your mouth. When the smell of your breath hit your nose, it became apparent to you that you should probably take advantage of the hot and running water in the home.

Quickly, you threw the covers to the side, glancing down at your legs, body covered in the same clothes as yesterday. You didn't even dare attempt to sniff those articles of clothing, knowing how sweat stained they had become on the hike yesterday.

Yeah, you really needed to shower.

Standing from the bed now, you reach over to grab your bag, when you realize you've left it downstairs. Only when you look around the room is when you see a plain grey t-shirt sitting on the arm of a chair.

Tess's shirt, no doubt.

You pick it up and hold it in your hands, the scent of her sure enough surrounding your head.

As tempting as it would be to head back to sleep, you walk over to the bedroom door, opening it to the hallway. It seemed there was nobody remaining upstairs, evident due to the light conversation coming from downstairs. Your socked feet patter across the hall, peeping around a corner before b-lining straight for the bathroom.

Placing the clothing on the countertop, you reach into the shower and start the running water. As it slowly heats the small room, you stride over to a closet, pulling it open to find an abundance of everything you could've ever needed to bathe in the world before. Shampoos, conditioners, body wash, shaving cream and razors.

Wow, these guys really know how to keep inventory. They won't mind if I make use of some of this stuff, I definitely need it more than they do right now.

Steam fills the bathroom as you pull each article of sweat-stained clothing from your body, landing all together in a pile. As you pull the curtain back and step in, the warm water washes over your work-weathered body, goosebumps rising at the comfortably warm liquid.

It was euphoric, the temperature of clean, filtered water paired with the privacy of the shower.

You can only stand still as the dirt and other liquids patter to the tub floor, bringing you lighter in mood and vibrance as well.

As you scrub your scalp with the shampoo, the events of last night finally return to you.

Reading Little Women, admitting how you felt about Tess to Frank- the decision you told him you'd take the night on and think about.

You caught your head in your hands as embarrassment for yourself washed over you, much like the warm water of the shower.

"Ughh, I can't believe I told Frank that stuff.." Although you didn't regret it, not completely. The chat you had actually made you feel better, getting it off your chest after so long of holding it in.

You just wished it would be that easy to tell the person of your affection.

The spray of water from the shower ceased as you turned it off, stepping out onto the bath mat and wrapping a towel around you.

Regrettably, you had no other clothes to change into, so you pull on everything you'd worn the day before, except for your shirt. You put on the grey one for now.

Yep, it definitely smelled like Tess.

Pulling your cargo pants on, you stride out of the steam-filled bathroom, and your feet lead you into Bill and Frank's room.

Though you feel it's trespassing on an already stepped-over line, you head towards their closet, quickly opening the door and taking in the massive amount of flannel shirts hanging there.

Frank had impeccable taste in clothes, deciding to yank one or two of the darkly colored button ups from their hangers. You took a pair of socks as well, since yours had holes in them from their constant use.

You thought about not telling Frank about your thievery, but it's going to become imminent when you walk down the stairs with his shirts in your arms. So you shove them in your bag once you find it resting next to the bed.

Heading back into the guest bedroom, you pull the fresh pair of socks onto your feet, beginning to reach for your black boots sitting on the floor. Reaching down for one, you hear a knock at the door before you can grab it.

Quickly, you stride over to the door, expecting to see Frank or Bill on the other side with a message from your partners about hurrying to leave or something along those lines.

To your surprise, the face on the other side of the door is Tess.

Shit, Tess. The person you promised Frank you'd confess to last night over a drunken conversation.

She looks well rested, wearing a different shirt than the one from yesterday. It's a dark green, that compliments her eye color and the wisps of her caramel hair framing her face. Her hair is in that half up-half down bun, the rest of it resting behind her shoulders.

She looks fucking perfect, and you look like a wet dog, hair still damp from your shower.

"Hey, morning. How'd you sleep? I uh-" Tess is pulling at her collar awkwardly, standing in the same fashion as your eyes finally trail down to what she'd holding in her hands.

She had a plate in her grip, covered in freshly made, very appetizing breakfast foods. Some so freshly made, there was still steam coming off of it.

You're thankful in this moment to have taken those Tylenol earlier, or else the smell of any food whatsoever would've sent you hurling over the toilet like a hungover sorority girl.

"Oh my god, Tess. What is all this?" Your eyes widened in surprise, the smell catching your attention even before you had seen the plate of food in her hands.

"Well, you need a big breakfast for the journey back to Boston today, and I figured you could use it after last night.." A chuckle breaks through her chest, head dipping downwards before looking at your freshened state.

"Come- come in." You move aside for Tess to enter the bedroom, assuming you'd slept alone in here for the night. As she places the tray down on the bed, you sit down, Tess standing a few feet away.

"Tess, did you make this? What the hell- This looks amazing.. Eggs, sausage, hash browns? These are all my favorites.. Seriously, thank you. Wh-what can I do to make it up to you?"

"Well, first of all, breakfast is the most important meal of the day. And second of all, don't thank me, thank Bill and Frank, it's their food I cooked. Consider it a hangover cure. Once I get so drunk that I fall asleep in an armchair with a classic book in my lap, then you can pay me back. It better be a damn good breakfast." She chuckles again, in that low voice that keeps you up at night when you think about it.

The way it says your name, her low tone when she curses under her breath, the way she sounds in the early mornings when the sun still hasn't risen and she's drowsy enough to not make any sense in her muttering.

Tess went through all the trouble of making everything she knew you favored, the mere thought of her thinking about you as she cooked it all only made your enamor for her grow stronger, a fire of love burning behind your chest for the woman in front of you.

It's then she takes a seat on the bed with you, watching as you poke into the eggs and begin devouring the food on your plate. She wasn't leaving, by the looks of it.

In the middle of chewing your food, you speak again.

"Did Frank tell you I passed out down there?"

Her grin becomes larger now as her eyes move from the plate of food to your face as you consume your breakfast.

I wonder what else he told her. Hopefully nothing I haven't yet...

"No, I'm the one that found you, silly. Carried you up the stairs and put you to bed myself."

You continue chewing as your eyes widen, another realization from last night coming back to mind.

It wasn't Joel carrying you, it was Tess.

"You carried me up the stairs? Wow, I'm gonna have to start lifting weights if I have to do the same for you."

While you speak, you're enjoying every morsel of this delicious food Tess has made you, and you're grateful for her in so many more ways than you could express presently.

"You better," Tess says with a scoff. A couple more minutes pass by as you're finishing up the food on your plate. You notice that she's still sitting in the room with you, taking your silence as a sign of comfortability around her.

"So, what's up, Tess?" You say, shoving another fork full of hash browns into your mouth.

"Well, I came to check on you, since last night Frank told me you were drinking a whole 'nother bottle of wine by yourself.. and reading classic literature? For fun?" She laughs.. "I figured you might be hungover this morning and wanted to bring you something to fill your stomach. I can't have you fainting on me when we hike back to the QZ, now can I? Gotta keep your strength up, hun."

The name melts your heart a little and you smile. It was such a simple thing, one that indicated she cared about your wellbeing and didn't want to see you unwell.

"Yeah, always gotta be nourished and shit. Just human things, I guess. Though, a meal like this never gets old." You said with a smile.

It became more difficult to hold back the thoughts of holding and kissing the woman before you, her green button down shirt just aching to be pulled in order to kiss her. Those perfect hazel eyes of hers that resembled gems when they hit the sun just right, getting effortlessly lost in them every time they locked with yours. Her hands that completed her daily tasks so beautifully, with such care and concern in everything she did making you think she'd hold you the same way, love you the same beautiful way she did everything in her life with.

"I'm guessing you're feeling alright, then? Tylenol helped?" It was cute that Tess was still worrying about how you were feeling from the night before. Putting the fork down finally, you looked up at her.

"Yeah I- Wait, how'd you know I took Tylenol?" You hadn't mentioned anything to her about taking medicine.. so how did she know?

"Well I uh- I just.." She scoffed lightly before continuing, "I asked Frank to leave some by your bedside earlier and I was really worried about you, since yesterday. You don't drink like that unless something's bothering you."

Her eyes focused on you, hair lightly spilling over her shoulder, and she's in the moment with you now more than she had ever been. It's almost like she's reading you when you glance up again, pulling at the collar of your shirt.

"I know, Tess. It's just-" you sigh, thumbs fiddling with each other, palms beginning to prick ever so lightly with sweat.

"You can tell me anything, you know that right?" Her voice was sweet and soft, lowering a bit to hopefully ease your worries. One of her hands grabs yours, and the sensation is enough to make the breath in your lungs hitch.

If there was any perfect moment to confess, this was it.

"Tess, there's something I need to tell you." A slight quiver of your voice tells her that this thing that had been bothering you clearly meant a lot. You keeping things from her wasn't a common occurrence, which only happens when something was beyond frustrating for you to talk about.

"Okay, what is it?"

You're infuriatingly beautiful and I want to kiss you right now.

"It's the fact that I'm over here pining like an idiot for you and you can't even see it.." You mutter, not wanting to look Tess's way for fear of judgment or rejection. She notices, and in that very moment she longs to see the fire in your eyes burn its brightest. "It's the fact that- that I love you, and you probably love someone else.."

"Someone else?" Tess scoffed, "And who do you think that is, huh?"

"I don't know.. Joel, maybe.." Head still hung, your hands shake slightly, chest filled to the brim with uneasiness and anxiety.

Was it just you, or did the temperature in here get hotter?

"Y/n, look at me." You hesitate for a moment, then slowly your eyes move from their locked position on your hands.

Tess's hands are fidgeting in her lap too, you notice.

The second you lift your head, the glossy state of your eyes catches her attention, and her face eases once you're looking directly at her. Tess's bottom lip catches between her teeth for a moment, and she glances down swiftly, then back up at you.

"Joel and I are nothing but friends, you understand? I don't want him, never have." The words hit your ears and it's as if a weight lights off your shoulders.

It's the most clarifying moment that makes you giddy to spill everything onto her lap.

"Tess.." you breathe, closing your eyes for a moment and making a decision, "Please don't shoot me for this..."

You begin to lean in towards her, eyelids hooded as you glance down to her lips, watching intently as she does the same. It feels like an eternity before you're close enough to pick up on her natural scent, consuming your brain and going fuzzy upon the close proximity.

A warm tingling fills your hands as they brush over Tess's thighs and hover just over the dark denim covering them.

Once, twice, three times you glanced down at her lips, pausing to drag your eyes across her flawless face.

"Are you gonna kiss me, or what?" Her snarky tone pulls your eyes back to gaze into her hazel ones, almost getting lost in them before getting the courage to do something you couldn't come back from.

"Shut up," You say, before your hands grab onto her collar, and pull her lips to yours. Her kiss takes your breath away, crawling into her lap, collar of Tess's shirt still in your grip. Sparks flicker in your chest, and they're coming off of Tess's as well, deepening the kiss with another push of your lips against hers.

The weight of you in her lap pulls a groan from the woman opposite you, separating your lips from hers. You almost couldn't pull away, but the thought of hurting her made your worry jump a mile high.

"Shit.. Are-are you okay?" Tess gives you another peck on your lips, before trailing her eyes down your face and neck. The smirk on her face makes the heat from your cheeks travel down your torso.

"Oh, I'm better than ever... you wanna know why?"

Nodding your head fervently, her hands trail up your shirt to your collar, watching as her pupils dilate around the hazel in her eyes. The grasp on your shirt is tight, even tighter when she beckons you impossibly closer to her. The next moment, she's pulling your lips to hers in another passionate kiss. Your lips are pressed together for so long, it feels like you're out of breath by the time she pulls away.

"It's because I love you." The three words fall from her lips like a siren beckoning you with its song. Her voice has never sounded more perfect, and when she says those words to you, it's an indescribable amount of joy that fills your chest.

Her panting is an indication of not being able to breathe, but she doesn't fucking care if she got to kiss you like that.

"You love me, too?" Out of curiosity, you ask again, just to make sure it registers in your brain. Disbelief makes your heart jump, even though you've just kissed her, and you never wanted to stop.

Even though she told you she felt the same way, it was still a dream.

"Of fucking course I do. Ever since I took care of you, those few months you were living in my apartment. How could I not?" One of her hands trails up your face, brushing some stray hairs obstructing her view, so she could look at you fully.

The woman you've pined after for years has loved you all the same, and the realization feels a lot like you've wasted so much time behind a closed door. Sleepless nights went by with you writing about her in your journal, detailing all the ways you would love her if she only loved you back.

Tess adored you, she just hadn't let herself show it or feel any other way than a friend, and she'd been terrified to lose you if she fucked any of that up. The years and years of pining built to this very moment, tension in the room thick as you gazed at her lovingly.

"Tess.. kiss me again..."

It was a desperate plea for that fucking woman to press your lips to hers so you could taste her even stronger than you thought you could handle.

"I don't think I'll be able to stop if I do." Her low voice made your legs tremble, a new kind of desire growing due to her.

"Then don't." Your lips clashed together with hers, tongues exploring each other's mouths in a feverish attempt to taste even more of you than she already had.

The truth was, she had all of you for a long time, and now she couldn't imagine needing anything more.

A soft moan is pulled from your chest as Tess's teeth nip at your bottom lip. The both of you seem breathless as you pull away again, but every time you glance down at her swollen lips is when you want to just press them to yours over and over again.

"God, you're so beautiful, it's hard to look directly at you sometimes." Her words catch you off guard, feeling your eager hands travel up her neck, one resting on her shoulder while the other sneaks your fingers between her soft strands of hair. Twirling a lock of it, the blush on your face makes her smirk.

"Stop it, I mean just look at yourself. You're so hot and intimidating and perfect and-"

"You saying you're not those things?" Her brows furrow in distaste, because how dare you suggest otherwise.

"I'm saying you are. Pretty girl." A giggle erupts from your chest, raking your fingers through her hair with appreciation.

"If you don't say you're all of those things right this second, love, I'm just gonna have to prove it to you. And you know I will."

Your eyebrows raise, wanting to pull a little sneaky trick on her.

"Say that I'm what?" The smirk on your face makes Tess blush a little, chuckling to herself because she knows exactly what you're doing.

"Say that you're..." One of her hands goes to the top button of your shirt and unbuttons it as she places a quick peck on your cheek, "Perfect, intimidating, hot, everything I want.. God, fuck. Look at what you do to me.."

Her nimble fingers trail down your shirt, undoing each button carefully, letting the shirt fall open to your sides. Hands rest on the skin of your sides, just under the shirt you're wearing. Her shirt you're wearing.

"Tess.." You sigh breathlessly, still trying to gain back whatever air was pulled out of your lungs just a moment earlier.

"Hmm? Tell me what you want, baby." She tilts her head ever so slightly, the smirk on her face only enlarging when she sees the desire in your lust-blown eyes. Her pet name all but pulls a squeal from your chest, scrunching your nose upon hearing her low words.

"I want you, Tess. God, I want all of you.. But we can't-" Your hands run up and down her sides, shaking ever so slightly at her intimidating smirk.

"We can do anything we want, sweetheart. I've got you, now. No one's gonna take you away from me, ever. And no one's taking me from you. Got it?"

It's so warm, so Tess, such a loving and nurturing side of her that spills those words into your chest like a goddamn golden light, and it brings tears to your eyes. Sniffling, you try to blink them away every second they threaten to fall from your eyes.

The close proximity of her immediately pulls you into a safe hug, tears dropping on the cloth of her shirt, dampening the fabric bit by bit. Her hand rubs up and down your back, comfort surrounding you in the moment like nothing else in the world.

"So-sorry, Tess, I didn't mean to get your shirt all wet," You say, pulling back from her embrace, "I'm just.. so fucking happy because I love you and- and you're finally mine."

The words come out like the easiest thing in the world, like you could tell her your deepest darkest secrets and she'd still love you completely as you are.

"Aw, you look so pretty when you're in love. 'Bout the most perfect thing in the whole world to me, pretty girl."

"Well, yeah. It's all your fault that I'm crying like a sap, dummy." You playfully punch her shoulder and wipe your face, tears finally ceasing their descent from your eyes.

"You love me that much, huh?" This time, Tess's smile is sweet, intimate and all but this time your eyes lock with hers in a deep gaze.

"Love you even more than that, Tess." A giggle erupts from your chest as her lips press ever so lightly to your neck, ghosting feather light kisses across your skin. Before she pulls back, she attaches her lips to your skin and sucks obsessively, in the same spot. A particularly sensitive spot she gets to pulls a whimper from your chest, the sound making her pull away from kissing you, eyebrows raised with curiosity.

"What was that, baby?" You whimper again, embarrassment washing over you while your cheeks are being painted with a blush.

"Need you, Tess. Need you so bad.." The last word comes out rather quickly, hips rolling against hers ever so slightly.

"I'm right here, honey. Tell me what you need from me, and I'll give it to you." Her words come out like a plead, work-worn hands and fingers trailing over the waistband of your pants. "Come on, we don't have much time. Joel wants to get on the road soon.."

Oh God. Joel. Bill. Frank.

Your thoughts freeze and think to the three other men in the house, or probably somewhere nearby, if not lingering just a few feet away down the stairs.

"Shit, should we-"

"Yes, my love, we should. After all this time, we should."

"But the door-"

The bedroom door; it was swung almost completely open.

"Guess you better be quiet then." She mutters, voice low with lust and the need for you to fall apart for her just once before their travels.

"Tess-" You whimper breathlessly, and before you can speak another word, her lips attach to yours again. Her hair smells like lavender, and her lips taste like strawberries.

"Do you trust me?" She asks, wanting to know you're okay with her going further.

"You know I do. I trust you with my life." You reply, almost immediately. Her soft eyes gaze into yours and she nods.

It's the most perfect vision of Tess you've had your entire life, and nothing in this world could tear you away from that.

Once you feel her hands unbuckling your pants successfully, one of her hands slips down under the fabric, bypassing your underwear right down to where she knows you need her.

Her middle and ring finger slide through the arousal between your legs, and the second she feels you throbbing against her, is when her kisses trail from your mouth to your neck.

"Tess, fuck-" You whimper out, as her fingertips swirl around the most sensitive part of you.

"Needy girl, aren't you? So gorgeous..." The smirk on her face turns devious when her eyes meet yours again, catching how your face contorts with pleasure under her doing.

Another mewl leaves your chest, nodding fervently once again.

"Shit, all wet for me? You really know how to make a woman happy.." The slight laughter from her chest makes you clench around nothing. Nothing, until her fingers pursue lower than your sensitive bundle of nerves. Deep breaths of air make your chest heave, and Tess is only relishing in the way you're falling apart completely for her.

Before you feel her fingers prodding at your entrance, your hand grabs her forearm and she halts her movements.

"What about you?" Your eyes seem to beg for her without saying another word more, and she hesitates for a moment, until she speaks.

"You don't have to, love. You feeling good makes me feel good and-"

She pauses her words, because your doe eyes make whatever was left of her resolve break, the instant she looks into them.

"Alright, baby. Go ahead, touch me.. I need you, too." A smile breaks out onto your face, hands gravitating towards her belt, undoing it as fast as she can complete her sentence to satisfy you.

One of your hands slips down between her legs, watching as her eyes close in bliss at the first light drag of your fingers down her heat.

"Fuck.." Her head gets thrown back while her eyes shut at the amount of pleasure and love you have for her in that very moment. Tess curses under her breath as you begin slow circles on her most sensitive part of her body, goosebumps trailing all over her skin.

"Now who's the needy one?" She glances back up to your eyes, and just like that, her intimidating demeanor returns.

You almost yelp aloud when she pushes a finger inside of you, but her lips press against yours before you could do so. The fervent exchange of moans between each swirl of your fingers, and each thrust of Tess's fingers inside of you makes the moment feel infinite.

Everything you've ever wanted, you finally had.

She was yours to touch, to hold, to please. Tess gave you all of her, completely and irrevocably.

"Tess.. fuck, I love you.. I- never wanna be with anyone else but you.." Your tone of voice is pitched higher, submerged in the pleasure she brought. She could tell you were inching closer to release with every swirl of her fingers.

"I love you, baby. With everything inside of me. It's you. Only you.. Now be a good girl and come with me."

"Are you gonna-"

"Yeah, I am. Fuck- keep going, just like that. Cmon, baby." The hand that wasn't inside your pants snuck up to your hair, grabbing a handful and pulling in silent demand.

Sighing dreamily, Tess pulled her fingers out of you and rubbed incessantly at your precious bundle of nerves, triggering your hips to rock against hers.

"Tess.." You moan out loud, almost too loud for the people downstairs to hear, but at the same time, you don't care. Not when Tess is giving you the most pleasure you think you've ever experienced in your life.

"I love it when you moan my name.. Say it again." Her fingers swirl to no end, feeling a jolt of pleasure wash through you as your high began to rush towards you.

"Tess, fuck. Oh my god Tess- baby I'm gonna come.." Your sounds are uncontrollable now as your release is beckoning you further.

"Yeah, hun? Gonna come for me?" Your hand speeds up your movements on her sensitive bud of nerves, another low moan leaving her chest, dripping with desire.

"Oh, baby, I'm-I'm.."

"Me too baby, yeah..." Tess calls out, her movements on your clit pushing you over the edge, her high washing over her intensely.

A few more filthy moans leave your chest, release crashing over you like a wave, running throughout your body with relief, your partner helping you ride it out before you finally look back up at her.

Sweat adorns her skin, chest heaving as she pulls her fingers from your pants. You do the same, only watching as she licks her fingers seductively. Another wave of pleasure threatens to overtake you, just by watching her do that.

"Holy shit... that was amazing. I knew your hands were good for more than just holding a gun and punching people." Your head tilts back the slightest bit as you try to catch your breath after the immense pleasure washed over you only moments ago.

"For our first time, that's nothing compared to what I've been thinking about doing to you for months now.." The smirk on her face threatens the rise of arousal again, though you're too exhausted now to even think about doing that, with what a long journey you've got ahead of you.

"You-" Tess raises an eyebrow at your speechlessness, "are the most beautiful woman in the whole world, and you chose to love me. Isn't that something."

Your words make her blush again, leaving a few small pecks on your cheeks, before pressing one to your lips again. Then, Tess's hands reach to your pants once more, doing the zipper up and buttoning them so she could do the same to hers.

"Well, I don't think we choose who we love. But if it was.. it's because you're the most perfect person in the world. Isn't that something.."

You look to Tess with a soft smile, one that makes both of you appreciate the domesticity of your conversation at hand.

"Yeah, it is," You say, taking her hands in yours and interlocking your fingers together, "So, what does all this make us?"

You catch Tess staring into your eyes again, and it takes a second for her to respond.

"Well, I'm already in love with you, so whatever you want, I want it too. I'm all in, for you. That sound good?"

God, you've waited forever to hear those words.

Attaching your lips with hers, it's a slow, soft kiss, almost stopping time with how you craved more every second that went by. As you pull away, Tess looks radiant in the sunlight that's pouring through the window even more now.

Her words turn you speechless, already knowing you called her 'mine' but hearing it from the velvet voice of your lover made your heart swell ten times bigger.

"It sounds wonderful, Tess." You lean in for another kiss, soft and sweet, until you pull back again, "You'll have to teach me how to open wine bottles, though."

"Nah, I think I'd rather just keep doing it for you." Your lips locked in another kiss, one you wished would last forever.

"Oh, one more thing," Tess goes digging in her back pocket, pulling out a blue tube, "Deodorant. You stink like sex."

"And whose fault is that?" You quip, grabbing the tube from her and rubbing it under your armpits.

Tess shrugged, almost pulling you in for another kiss, until the sound of a male voice from downstairs snapped both of you out of the daydream.

"Shit, Joel. He's gonna be mad that I took so long up here.. that-that we took so long-" You begin to speak, pulling yourself from the bed, reaching down to slip your boots on.

"Joel Miller is not gonna say anything when he sees that hickey." Tess mumbles, standing from the bed as well, adjusting her shirt from where you'd grasped it before.

"What mark? Oh, Tess.. you didn't.." You rush over to the mirror hanging on the wall, and pull your collar to the side abruptly to see the darkening purple bruise on your neck. You scoff, only buttoning up your shirt with haste to get out the door.

"I did. Couldn't help myself, you know. You're all mine now, had to make sure everyone in Boston knows you're spoken for."

She walks up behind you, placing her hands on your hips as you continue buttoning the flannel up. You scoff, flipping your head around to kiss her on the lips again.

"Yeah, well did you have to make it so dark?" You questioned, knowing she could've gone lighter but didn't.

"You already know the answer to that. Now c'mon, let's not keep the man waiting." Tess pulls you by your hand to the door, looking back once more as you exit the room and walk down the stairs with her hand in yours.

Just as you thought he'd be, Joel was pacing downstairs with his pack already on his back.

"There y'all are.. was starting to get worried about- Oh." The tall, Texan man clears his throat when his eyes spot the mark on your neck, eyes immediately avoiding yours.

"Yeah.. I'll grab our packs and meet you outside. Cool?" Tess says, before sharing a look with Joel, not saying anything more as he turns to walk out to the front yard. Her hand slips from yours every so slightly, and you already miss the warmth and love in her contact the second it drops from you.

"Hey, wait- where's Frank?" You call out to Joel, but he's already to the gate of their yard before he can hear you.

"In here!" Frank's voice comes from the living room, and you saunter over to him.

"Hey, morning. Listen, I wanted to thank you for everything. What you said to me last night, and just your hospitality and all you're gonna help us with when we start working together. I mean it- I'm really grateful."

Frank looks up from the vinyl he's sifting through, and meets your eyes with a compassionate smile.

"I take it this morning went... well?" He gestures to the mark on your neck, one of your hands going up to sheepishly cover it, a bit embarrassed that you let her go that far.

"Oh, um. Yeah, very well. I did that thing we talked about." As soon as the words hit his ears, he's grinning from ear to ear and throws his arms around you with a tight embrace, one that caught you off guard, but you hugged back, nonetheless. The smile is still beaming on his face as he pulls away.

"I knew it would go well. You two.." He shakes his head, hands on his hips, "Sparks were basically flying over lunch yesterday, every time one of you looked at each other.. Wait- Is that my shirt? Nevermind, keep it. Looks better on you anyway."

Frank laughs at the realization that you didn't have fresh clothes after showering, so he understood.

"Seriously, thank you. For everything, again."

"Yeah, yeah. I know. I'm such a matchmaker. Now go, run to your lover, and never let her go, okay? She's one special woman."

"Yeah, that she is.." Your gaze shifts from Frank to Tess appearing in the doorway with your pack in her hand.

"Oh, one more thing." Frank hands you the books you'd taken down from their shelves last night, Little Women and Pride and Prejudice. "Don't worry, Bill said it's alright. He doesn't read classics, anyways. You'll come back, and we'll trade."

That's the last thing Frank says before Tess beckons you back to her.

"You ready to go? Joel's gonna lose his marbles if we make him wait any longer, so.." Tess asks you, standing a few feet away, but it felt like miles before you could get back to her.

"Oh, God forbid a man wait on two fine ladies, such as yourselves." Frank says, turning Tess's way as you walk towards her, grabbing your pack from her hand and putting the two books into it, before slinging it onto your back.

"You make a good point, but he's gonna be grouchy the whole hike. He'll be done with our lovesick asses once we get back to the QZ." You say with a giggle, pressing a quick kiss to Tess's lips.

"Well, it's been lovely having you here, I'm not sure where Bill's run off to, but I'm sure he says goodbye as well. I'll walk you to the gate, since there's an idea I have as to how we can communicate back and forth on the radio.. I'll tell you on the way."

Frank follows you both out the door, spotting Bill already at the gate, the same holster with his pistol sticking out from his otherwise plain outfit.

As Joel finally spots the three of you coming from the house, he darts right out of their front yard, b-lining for the gate.

"Guess he's got a new friend..." You mutter to Tess, Joel's steps bringing him towards the gate faster than you three were walking.

"Maybe he just doesn't wanna look at the huge hickey on your neck." She retorts, her reasoning better than anything else you came up with.

Chuckling, you nudge her side, hands falling beside each other's before locking your fingers together again.

Frank catches up, walking alongside Tess as he begins to explain his idea for communication back and forth.

"So, I had this idea that we should use codes for the radio, in case anyone's listening."

"That's a good idea. Like, with what?" Tess tilts her head over to the man in curiosity.

"I was thinking, like, the decades. Like- 80's, trouble, of course." Frank states, as if he's put immense thought into something as simple as this.

"Yeah..?"

"70's- for when we get new stuff to trade with.. and 60's for not having anything new. Sound good?"

"Yeah, Frank. That's actually really clever. I mean, I wouldn't have thought of that. Right, babe?" It's the first use of any pet name around people, and you can tell it puts Tess in a lighter mood just by hearing you say it.

"Right. Well, radio back to me when you guys are ready to start our business together." He reaches out to shake Tess's hand, "Otherwise, it has been lovely having you three here, and I'm so ecstatic to have you back whenever." Frank stood still, watching you all walk ahead.

The sound of Joel's boots on the pavement approaching you all force you to turn your heads towards the third partner in your group.

"What are y'all lookin' at? Let's head out, already. Whenever you lovebirds are done.."

Grumpy exterior, but an ally, all the same.

"What are we gonna do with him..."

"Yeah, he's not nearly as much fun as you." Nudging her shoulder again, your bottom lip catches between your teeth for a slight moment. Tess's hair is blowing in the wind slightly, and you can't help but smile at the beauty of the woman you called the love of your life.

You share a look between Tess's eyes and your own, before tugging her along as you walk ahead, attached by a soul tie at your hands, linked together for a lifetime.

[bread-squid-uwu]

THANK YOU @dizzybevvie LMAO 🩵🩵

So, just a DISCLAIMER that I'm talking about my rewrite with some splashes of canon influence but I'm mostly just ignoring canon Dante for this, anyway

The main songs I associate with Dante are:

I'm A Natural Blue.

Obviously because of the title being a reference to Awstens blue hair, and the associations of blue with negative types of emotions and such. In my head, Dante has naturally black hair but despises that - so he dyes EVERYTHING blue and hopes it's convincing enough. He wants to look as different from his brother as possible.

The lines about seeing that your idols aren't who you once assumed them to be, seeing the truth rather than seeing someone to admire.. everyone knows Dante really really admired and looked up to Gene, who was never the best person. I see this as Dante recognizing that, finally seeing that his big brother was actually cruel and even dangerous.

Dante going through that world shattering realization that the person he trusted the most, looked up to, and even based himself off of for so long.. was horrible. And, perhaps, going off of that - looking at how he had tried so hard to copy and be like Gene, perhaps he too had done horrible things.

The struggles of trying to break from these ideas, having seen the reality of everything happening. The struggles of trying to figure out who he is without trying to base himself on who he thinks of as cool or popular.

The frustrations of realizing he was so blind to it all for so long, the ways that idolizing and loving Gene must've looked to people who knew everything Gene had done.

I could go so much more in depth, line by line, but I'll stop here for now!! I love this song in this context.

We Need To Talk.

Clover. - a danvis fic written by me, based on this song.

It Follows.

Dante canonically has a lot of anxiety around actually getting into relationships, we see this multiple times. Obviously this was very different back in Phoenix Drop High, but we also know that Dante hasn't been in a relationship since he was in high school - said by Garroth.

"I think with my heart, and love with my head." Seems like a very fitting line for this fact.

"Kiss me like nobody would when I was fifteen." We know in high school he was never very genuine with his relationships and, I think as an adult he wants something real - something genuine, where they can actually care about each other. Instead of the "haha player😎" he was before.

Looking at S2? Well...

"I've spent some years rewinding, but I'm still just me." This line I feel like is about finding himself relapsing into those previous non-genuine behaviors from high school, finding himself repeating those mistakes. I'm not talking about the situation with Nicole and Jenna, he was never actually dating Nicole, he did not cheat on her. I'm talking about him going around and flirting with many different girls on the beach. Eventually, I think he'd pull himself from this and realize that he slipped backwards, and feel guilty over finding himself repeating the mistakes that defined a version of him he previously tried so hard to bury - which is going back to the ideas from "I'm a natural blue" - when I describe this as a relapse I'm not exaggerating. Knowing those behaviors stem from Gene? I think it warrants being called a relapse.

The rest of the lines, however, I do think are about Nicole.

With the context of him struggling with his past, his sense of self, the guilt, and of course.. Gene being around? I think the situation between Nicole and Jenna would get to him on a much deeper level.

"If I could find my something to burn out these feelings, I'd cut them out completely and I'd stop this reeling. I think with my heart, and love with my head. Do you see the problem here? You rip me to shreds. I think with my heart, you fuck with my head." I see about him feeling like he's never truly changed from high school. With Nicole making the claims that he was cheating, etcetera, it gets into his head.

Really looking at the situation, he was already struggling with himself - and he was already struggling with Nicole as well. Knowing his apprehension towards relationships, his anxiety towards Nicole, and the fact that the two were never official on top of him desperately wanting to end the flirting and such with her? Well, "So tear into my heart, and love with my head. Do you see the problem here? You rip me to shreds. I've fallen apart, I'm missing your breath. Can we stand to break the fingers pointing the blame, Or will they always follow me?"

Stupid For You.

Danvis.

"I'm color-coding my moods, you're yellow, I'm natural blue

Let's get together and be green like my insides

At least I'll match your eyes, jealous and hypnotized

Let's match our faces and be equally in love. "

I don't think I need to say anything else lmao

THANK YOU BEV FOR THE EXCUSE TO POST THIS,,,

i'm always open to waterparks dante questions so uhm, feel free to ask for more or ask about this or something!!!!

[satoshi-mochida]

Tomba! Special Edition launches August 1 for PS5, Switch, and PC, later for PS4

From Gematsu

*There's a few short videos on the site I can't copy/paste on here

Tomba! Special Edition will launch for PlayStation 5, Switch, and PC via Steam on August 1, followed by PlayStation 4 at a later date, developer Limited Run Games announced.

Here is an overview of the game, via Limited Run Games:

About

Tomba! returns in Tomba! Special Edition, the ultimate version of the legendary platforming masterpiece. As the titular Tomba, you leap, bite, and throw your way across stunning 2.5D landscapes on a quest to overcome a deplorable cadre of nefarious pigs. Along the way, you’ll explore ancient relics, discover fascinating characters, unlock thrilling quests, and unearth hidden treasures. It’s a platforming adventure that perfectly fuses linear and nonlinear gameplay styles. Tomba! was first published in 1997, and is back today in a vastly-expanded special edition packed with quality of life improvements.

Key Features

Save Anywhere! No more worrying about heading back to a checkpoint.

Rewind! Stuck on a difficult challenge? Try again!

Toggle for analog control

A museum crammed with classic print advertisements, original packaging and manuals, never- before-seen dev documents, and high-res original artwork.

A new remastered soundtrack.

Interview with the creator, Tokuro Fujiwara.

And here is a new interview with Tomba! creator Tokuro Fujiwara published on PlayStation Blog:

In 1997, when you made Tomba!, most developers focused on making 3D games like Tomb Raider or Crash Bandicoot. You instead decided to mix 2D sprites with perspective-shifting 3D environments. Why? Tokuro Fujiwara: “Tomba! runs on 3D technology, with gameplay designed around 2D principles. This is why it’s described as a 2.5D game. I think 2D games have a certain kind of charm that 3D doesn’t. I also wanted to push the limits of what could be done. To bring my vision to life, I needed to use 2D principles along with 3D CG visuals. This allowed me to create something that felt new on the PlayStation. “There were times when I wondered if I should go 3D instead, 3D games have a very clear sense of space. In 2D, all the action takes place on a flat plane, and multiple layers provide a sense of depth. This means you have to design the game in creative ways so that the different layers don’t conflict. This results in something interesting that can only be achieved with 2D.” What do you hope new players will take away from Tomba! Special Edition? Fujiwara: “Tomba! has many side quests. These come in different varieties and are hidden throughout the game. I encourage players to seek them out. Various items allow players to learn new moves, expanding how levels can be beaten. I hope players search and seal away the Evil Pigs scattered throughout the world, which will unlock even more to see! There are many discoveries to be made. I hope players can relax and enjoy the world of Tomba!” Speaking of genre-bending gameplay. Tomba! feels like an open world despite being described as a side-scrolling platformer. This was largely due to how nonlinearly the levels could be played. Was this done intentionally, or was it something that just happened through development? Fujiwara: “I had envisioned this open-feel game from the very beginning. It was all a blur when things started, but as development progressed, it began taking shape. “You could consider Tomba! an open-world title, a term that was rarely used back then. There’s a wide area with a lot of different content in it. You encounter, discover, and collect various things as you move around. For example, you have to complete certain tasks in Tomba!, but you can wander around freely and complete them however you like. Some tasks and main objectives can even be skipped entirely. Many of the ideas I envisioned for Tomba! back in the day were ideas we see in open-world game design today. “I initially wanted to include 100 quests, but the final game exceeded that. It was hard work for the team to fit it all together on a timeline. What started out as vague ideas in my head ballooned into an amount of content so large it blew my mind!” The original PlayStation was a massive leap in gaming technology. What was it like to experience it back then? Fujiwara: “Game development is an ongoing battle against technology growth. This was the case back then and is still true today. I felt that the PlayStation was such a remarkable improvement in terms of hardware, allowing for greater possibilities. Games went from being rendered in pixels to CG. Game developers had to learn many new skills. Expectations ballooned along with the scope of game ideas. Development environments evolved, which made things challenging but exciting for developers. The introduction of the PlayStation and the advancements from that era still impact games today.” Finally, why do you think it’s important to bring Tomba! back now? Fujiwara: “Tomba! has been around for a long time, but continues to be loved by many. I’ve long wished that the game could be accessible to more people on modern systems. Now that the opportunity is here, I think PlayStation fans today will get a ton of enjoyment out of Tomba!“

[raytorosaurus]

Wait what dumbassery got tweeted? I wanna see it so I can laugh

lol okay under a read more bc i was like "i don't have the energy rn to spark a whole discussion about this" but then it got kinda long anyway so. the tweet itself is your average annoying twitter bullshit but it speaks to a wider pattern that really fucking pisses me off and worries me so that's what this is about

someone tweeted this, which had like 900 likes and multiple people in the replies and qrts going "omg did she really do this/when did she do this" and op would be like "it's a joke," to which the reply would always be "oh well it does sound like something she'd do."

it's a) not funny in the first place lol and b) a very common type of joke to make, hinging on this widely-accepted idea that frank and lynz hate each other and are petty about it, and that lynz abuses gerard & is extremely controlling. both of these things are literally completely fabricated but people just believe them, and it really goes to show how all these people who hate lynz sooo much don't hate her for the reasons they claim to. these people could not any more transparently give less of a shit about jimmy urine's abuse victim when it really feels like they gleefully use her as an "excuse" to make frerard "jokes" where lynz is a villain. it's disgusting and so so insensitive. domestic abuse is also such a fucking disgusting thing to accuse people of with literally zero evidence besides the kind of thing that was touted on blogs like ode2's, including things like "lynz saying she deadheads the flowers is her sending messages that she emotionally or physically enjoys beating gerard into submission" and "the way gerard's behaving on instagram (i.e. not using it very often) just feels fishy to me...something must be wrong" and "frank and lynz are sharing coded messages about hating each other via opossum memes on their instagram stories or in their instagram likes".

my point is: if you really hated lynz THAT much for reasons such as her association to msi and the tweets where she claimed to have indian descent and was weird to people who called her on it, then you should not need to invent additional reasons to hate her. you would also have to admit that those two things are not exclusive to lynz since everyone in mcr also has extensive voluntary associations with msi, most of all gerard and frank, who have also done/said racist things in the past, and you would have to come up with reasons why you are willing to forgive them but not lynz. i also don't like lynz and find a lot of her actions distasteful but it's literally impossible to get a reasonable explanation from any of the mcr fans who hate her SO much for the depth of this hatred without them including complete fabrications or deeply bad-faith suppositions (or actively misogynistic comments) in those explanations. it's extremely transparent and only goes to show how little these people care about the actual genuine issues related to jimmy/msi and weird racist comments/claims.

also as a side point i don't understand why people also love to act like frank is a perfect innocent in any situation to the point where they'll literally make up reasons to like him or claim that he's on "their side" (e.g. the idea that he hates msi when he was a vocal fan). i love frank so much but fandom as a whole seems to have such a weirdly distorted view of him, despite him being the one in the band who's most open about his thoughts and feelings/life in general. or maybe for that reason? he certainly seems to be the one people project onto the most with a lack of self-awareness about what they're doing, idk. it's weird though frank is such a lovable and admirable guy but sometimes i see the way some of his intense fans talk about him and i honestly feel like they're talking about a different person? of course none of us really know him at all but idk i really feel like the version of him that exists in the most prevalent fan-driven frerard narrative is so bizarrely separate from reality skfjfkssk. idk anyway that's kind of off-point, the most important thing here is that if you make things up about frank or attribute your own opinions to him when he hasn't actually said anything like that (e.g. hating msi or hating lynz) you're gonna get further and further down that rabbithole and end up setting yourself up for disappointment when frank inevitably doesn't behave/think the way you want him to irl lol.

so anyway i qrted that tweet, and op deleted their account between my second and third tweet here lol.

[staticintone]

RAM headcanons—because this AU is living rent free in my head. Keep in mind these are just mine, and have no bearing on the actual AU content and can be adjusted.

Alastor’s first time playing Frankenstein was against his father. (True for most verses—including main—but leaves a distinct impression on RAM verse.)

This was in a purely physical way. He pulled apart his father’s body and put him back together in a grotesque way. The creature he created couldn’t speak, see, or even breathe properly. He used his stitching to make sure it stuck, but was shocked to find out the changes he made were permanent despite regeneration. This gave him the confidence that he could do something similar in the future.

Niffty’s “adjustments” were made out of kindness.

In this verse, unless playing with a Niffty or otherwise specified, she is his half-sister Alice Seymour. She had a horrible life, repeating cycles instilled by their father with her husband. She came to Alastor in life hoping he would rescue her, and he refused. When he met her in Hell, she was paranoid and hopeless and he felt guilty for rejecting her before. He promised to make it up to her by saying simply, “I can make the pain go away.”

When it comes to Vox:

—The idea to start the process was something he had in mind for years.

There was no explicit planning. Something he would later come to regret as he found himself out of his depth due to Vox not being fully human. But he definitely had thoughts and theories on what he would do if given the opportunity. They went out the window once he actually had that opportunity, due to his misunderstanding of how Vox operates.

—He didn’t enjoy the torture he inflicted.

Considering it a necessary evil, he had to figure everything out from scratch. Niffty required a lot less physical torment and work, because she was already broken down. But Vox was a complete person that he had to dismantle. As angry as he might have been, there was no pleasure in it.

—Once the torture itself was over, he used audio cues to create a sort of Pavlov response.

Because of his previous assumptions based on his work with Niffty, he was overconfident about how to handle Vox. But the second that he started actually trying to rework the technical side of Vox’s body, he realized he didn’t have the slightest clue where to start. He got around this by using audio clips to figure out Vox’s response to each move he made. If it was acceptable, he moved on. If Vox failed to react in time or in the “right” way, he messed with it further. This was probably what did the most damage overall, as the previous torture was purely physical in nature.

—The quiet reassurance he gave in the final stage was his version of aftercare.

He would have gotten overly touchy, and sickeningly gentle once he thought that he was done. Sitting with a broken Vox and reminding him of happier times with old recordings and focusing on what “matters”. Convincing Vox as well as himself that it was all worth it if they could go back to the way things were.

—And finally, he absolutely thinks he did the right thing.

Despite his frustration in the present, he doesn’t think what he did was wrong. It’s only been messy because he was unprepared, which is the only thing he’ll let himself regret.

[dollarbin]

Sandy Saturdays #20

I'll Keep It With Mine

There are plenty of versions of this tricky Dylan song. Nico, Judy Collins and Dylan himself stumbled over it for years before everyone shelved it altogether.

Everyone, that is, except Sandy Denny and Fairport Convention.

The story starts in June of 64 when Dylan recorded Another Side of Bob Dylan in one rambling and probably pretty drunken night. Dylan did not attempt the song during the session, even though it was freshly written. Would the resulting record be better with I'll Keep It With Mine in place of the whiny, sophomoric Ballad in Plain D? Yes, totally.

But it's a tough song! Here's Dylan that same month trying to figure it out for copyright purposes. Suffice it to say that he does not figure it out.

6 months later, in January 65 (don't believe the date on the video below; I clearly know Dylan's timeline better than he does) he gave it another go, this time during the Bringing It All Back Home sessions. Bob was a far better musician and studio presence by that point and he lays down what is perhaps the song's most elegant take.

Most of us born in the 70's or 80's grew up with this version. Beloved copies of Biograph served as our introduction to all things Bob and this version of I'll Keep It With Mine is one of the collection's signature moments.

But no one in the 60's ever heard this version: Dylan recorded just this one take and then immediately abandoned the whole thing, jumping back into the far more manly, silly and obscure songs that actually make up the record.

At that point Dylan clearly felt done with the whole thing. I'll Keep It was either too complicated, too earnest or too melodic; probably all those things.

And so he tossed the song to Judy Collins, telling her it was meant for her anyway, and she immediately put out a fussy and almost good version that never merited space on one of her albums.

It's too bad Collins got her hands on the track in 65; a year earlier she would have slayed the thing by playing it solo acoustic; don't be fooled, Collins could totally play guitar.

But in 65 she was entering her pop arrangements phase, during which no let her pay an instrument. You can hear the dumb men in the room undercutting her greatness here: everything is rushed and hummable, lacking depth.

Dylan's producer, Bob Johnson, clearly wasn't impressed with Collins' version because he tried to talk Bob back into the song a year later while they were making Blonde on Blonde. Listen to Johnson here, cajoling Dylan into playing the damn thing while perhaps the great assembly of studio musicians in white man musical history work out their parts.

Johnson was so sold on the song that he put the musicians to work on an entirely new arrangement soon thereafter while Bob was momentarily missing in action (he was either writing Sad Eyed Lady of the Lowlands at that exact moment, taking uppers and/or downers, or recovering from just having done all those things).

Wow, don't you wish Dylan had given in to Johnson and completed this version? The whole thing is so tight and crisp; I'd love to hear Dylan mangle it. But no dice: Bob had Sad Eyed Lady to record instead, and I guess that worked out pretty damn well.

Still, Johnson's promotion of the track must have stuck with Dylan because the next time he had a goddess to impress - that would be Nico - he offered I'll Keep It With Mine to her.

As we speak, my famous brother is sitting up a little straighter, a look of potential fury forming in his beedy eyes: if I insult his beloved Nico and her VU bandmates his wrath will know no bounds.

Well, tough luck broheim: I think Nico's version, which is from 67, sucks like a cranky old vacuum. The guitar sounds good, and Nico is great in her standard I'm-not-familiar-with-your-language-or-how-to-sing-in-it-but-I'm-fabulous-anyway manner. But John Cale clearly had nothing to do with the string overdubs and they make this whole thing sound like a soundtrack for Honey Bunches of Oats: they're the cheery and wholesome way to start your day.

Enter Fairport Convention. It's 1968 and they suddenly have one of the greatest singers of all time, Sandy Denny, standing alongside their more than capable male vocalist, Ian Matthews. It was time to up their game with a complex, big deal song that everyone knew but no one had ever done quite right. It was time for them to play I'll Keep It With Mine.

Is this the song's perfect take? No. Denny and Matthews had not yet learned how to support one another dynamically (though they'd soon figure it out in a big way) and Matthews' contributions feel competitive here rather than complimentary.

Okay, you ask, it may not be perfect, but is this the best version of I'll Keep It With Mine out there? Naw. I like Dylan's Bringing It All Back Home take just as much.

But, whatever: Fairport's late 68 version is still pretty damn great. On the other side of the Atlantic Neil Young was getting ready to reinvent lead guitar playing on Everybody Knows This Is Nowhere. But you can hear Richard Thompson doing much of that same work here, albeit in a less flashy fashion: his lead guitar chases itself all over the mix as Simon Nicol ably fills the Danny Whitten chair.

And then there's Sandy's lead vocals. Denny had never played anything larger than a coffee shop at this point and had had just one real recording session with a band beforehand. But she sure doesn't sound like a newbie here. Rather, she sounds like Athena: assured, patient and powerful; Dylan, Collins and Nico are mere mortals beside her.

Update from an hour after posting:

My famous brother just humbled me yet again, offering up two more versions, neither of which I knew about until this moment; I'll let him introduce them himself:

I think I prefer the Richard & Linda Thompson live version over Fairport — uses a pretty similar arrangement, but Linda might have the edge vocally. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6Q6Y-R-p7J4

And yeah, the Nico version isn't great, but the Velvet Underground version ... it kind of cooks! Beware of horrible bootleg quality sound here. Legend has it that Lou Reed hated this song but Nico insisted they play it a few times early on. So they basically do it like it's "I'm Waiting For The Man." https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tP5-vv9mmZM

Imagine emails like this showing up in your inbox regularly. It's sure nice having a famous brother...

[doll-elvis]

I AGREE SO MUCH ABOUT CHILD BRIDE. i went into it knowing nothing about the author, and in the forward shes really emphasizing how crazily obsessed she was with priscilla so i guess i was expecting it to be a sympathetic view of her😭 definitely not. what is suzzanes problem dear lord. shes so convinced and desperate to tell you that priscilla was some evil teenaged succubus out for rockstar blood. jesus christ. like girl even if she actually was who gives a shit????? same goes for currie grant. i dont care if he showed the author concrete evidence on a golden platter that he was telling the truth. hes just such an obvious sleazeball. just disgusting……. and she dedicates like 300 chapters to him saying over and over again that he fucked 14yo priscilla and that she was into it. babe they couldve had a steamy decade-long affair and NOBODY would care because he is literally just some random creep ass loser 13 years older than her. and when it comes to his attempted rape of her hes literally like “no i didnt try to rape her i just [decribes attempting to rape her]”. i really dont know suzzanes backstory but she is insane.

but uh. anyways that aside i did enjoy parts of the book for the more in depth view of the story. like suzzanne has such intense bias that really shows throughout but even with that it was still a great way to understand some of the situations a little better… i wish elvis and me was a little more detailed but i can appreciate how and why it is. and i am strangely curious about the actual nature of priscilla and curries relationship (i dont think they ever had consensual sex but i do believe he attacked her before elvis left germany and that leaves me curious as to why she still hung around him afterwards... i.e. those pictures of her to send to elvis that he took)

sorry for the huge wall of text im just.... very .. intrigued? by the book? its just so bizarre and raises a lot of questions lol.

“Currie’s like “No I didn’t try to r*pe her I just [describes atttempting to r*pe her]”

YES THANK YOU!!

if I could, in my own words, summarize the transcript of the conversation between Priscilla & Currie it would be this ⬇️

Currie: I didn’t r*pe you

Priscilla: You forced yourself on me

Currie: I didn’t force anything, you just weren’t into it

Priscilla: So you didn’t try to kiss me?

Currie: Well yeah I was trying to kiss you, you just wouldn’t kiss me back. You were very cold

again that was just my own words so not the actual transcript but that is exactly what I got out of that conversation- which is Currie denying he forced anything on her while simultaneously describing just how unresponsive she was to his advances, so THANK YOU for articulating that perfectly

He is an absolute sleaze-ball as you said, and clearly did not realize he was incriminating himself throughout that whole exchange

like even if Currie’s version of the events were true (I highly doubt it), he still committed statutory r*pe. Perhaps Suzanne and him don’t understand the age of consent but a fourteen year old girl cannot consent to intercourse, so anything he may or may not have actually done to her is still R*PE, whether she seemed willing or not. I’m completely abhorred that a biographer would give a man like that such a large platform and not only that, but agree/go with the story he tells- I’m sickened by it

and god, his reasoning as to why he wouldn’t need to r*pe Priscilla is just the most insane thing I’ve ever read ⬇️

“I had at least ten girls that I could call any night and go have sex with them,” countered Currie. “I’m not bragging—at least ten. I didn’t need to rape anybody ”

excerpt is from “Child Bride” by Suzanne Finstad

okay like?? Ted Bundy had a longtime girlfriend and yet he still went out and s*xually assaulted and murdered women… what’s your point, Currie?

what also bothers me is that Suzanne Finstad is sitting on the full audio tapes of that conversation between Priscilla and Currie, and knowing her history of misquoting people and writing things that don’t line up with other testimonies, I wouldn’t be surprised in the very least if parts of that tape have been conveniently left out, or transcribed wrong, as she converted it from audio to text

like the whole 1961 photoshoot, as you mentioned, is something that I just wish I could hear Priscilla explain for herself

Priscilla Presley and Currie Grant in 1961

It does raise the question if what she said transpired was true why would she ever want to be alone with Currie again, and better yet, why would Elvis willingly put her in a situation like that?

Especially when he was aware of the attempted r*pe ⬇️

MARTY LACKER: “There was a guy who used to bring Priscilla around to Elvis’s house some, over there in Germany. He would take her home to her parents’ place, and then he’d go back to the barracks. Well, he was a scumbag. He was using cute little girls to get into the house, to be around Elvis. And he tried to put the make on Priscilla one night when he took her home. She says in her book that he tried to rape her. But he didn’t succeed. Elvis told us about it, himself”

excerpt is from “Elvis and the Memphis Mafia” by Alanna Nash

The only explanation in my mind that makes sense is that perhaps Currie Grant was Elvis’ only remaining contact in Germany- or at least the only person in contact with Priscilla- and since he was so desperate to see her again, maybe thought that the reward outweighed the risk

And obviously a 15-year-old Priscilla was still reeling over him leaving Germany and would likely agree to anything to please him…plus since it was Elvis who asked Currie to take the photos, maybe she thought if Elvis trusted him to do that, she could trust him as well ?

And although I doubt she intended too, Suzanne inadvertently said something similar when trying to do one of those logical fallacies that she does throughout the duration of “Child Bride” ⬇️

“Priscilla, despite her claim that Currie tried to rape her, was thrilled to oblige, “desperate” for word from Elvis, through Currie”

excerpt is from “Child Bride” by Suzanne Finstad

I feel like Suzanne is basically answering the dilemma herself despite her attempt to point out the inconsistency in Priscilla’s behavior (her being afraid of Currie, but also being around him)

Priscilla was willing to be photographed by her attempted assaulter as she was desperate for contact from Elvis and Currie just happened to be that link between them

and I have to say, my original response to the ask that I received about “Child Bride” was something that I was worried about posting as many of the more passionate anti-Priscilla crowd tend to treat it like it’s their Bible but WHEW- I am beyond relieved that so many people have also seen just how outrageous that book is, especially the narrative that Suzanne Finstad goes with- like as you said, trying to make a fourteen-year-old Priscilla out to be some “teenaged succubus” LMAOOO (that took me out 💀)

I honestly consider myself to be Priscilla-neutral despite what some people assume of me based on some my posts 🤧 and so because of that, I am very open to reading and discussing the valid criticisms against her HOWEVER- I have no time in my day to take someone like Currie Grant seriously so that is why the first half of “Child Bride” (chapters about Germany and what fourteen-year-old Priscilla may or may not have done) are just what ruin the whole book for me

And it’s a shame because again, there are some very valid things that Suzanne points out about Priscilla, especially the things that were left out of “Elvis and me”; like her inconsistencies in recalling certain events, her sometimes questionable character (treatment of others), her possible greed (suing and more suing) and the biggest one to me- her involvement in Scientology… but all of that is just dampered by Suzanne’s god awful commentary and god awful judgement

also girl please do not apologize for sending this in- I sincerely thank you for adding to the conversation about this book as I think these kinds of discussions are so beneficial and I’m just truly grateful to be able to have them with y’all- I’ve fr learned so much from your guys’ insight

and since there is such a surplus of information about Elvis (and Priscilla), I feel like the best way to navigate through it all is by breaking it down like this, and so if y’all ever want to talk about another book feel free to send in your thoughts <3!!!

[i-heart-hxh]

Hi! I really liked your thoughts on your last post, and if you're willing to answer, what are your thoughts on Gon's feelings towards Killua? I do think it is requited (somewhat) and Killua's feelings are pretty clear at this point. Anyway, it probably could be Gon not realizing what he's feeling towards Killua, or the more popular interpretation of him being oblivious, or even the idea of him being on the aromantic spectrum. I think it's subtly gets lost in everything else that is happening in canon, which disappoints me sometimes because Gon is such a well written character.

Hi anon, thank you so much for asking! I love thinking about the nature of Gon's feelings for Killua, so it's nice to have a chance to talk about it from my own perspective.

The short version of where I keep ending up after thinking about it a bunch for several years now is that I think Gon does have romantic feelings for Killua, but I don't think at this point he recognizes them as such for a few different reasons.

The first is just that they're young, and I don't think he has enough context to see his feelings that way. For one, Killua is his first real friend so I think it might be hard for him to see where the line gets blurry/goes beyond friendship, and with his direct and straightforward personality he's less prone to picking apart all of his feelings than Killua. In Chimera Ant Arc, his innocence is repeatedly emphasized--he thinks going out with Mito counts as a "date," he is good at handling Palm on their date but he seems oblivious about the larger context of dating/having a relationship with someone, he doesn't get what's going on with Killua insinuating that Meruem might have a lover in his chambers, and so on. There's examples of this before CAA as well. I'm just not sure he's reached a point yet where he can distinguish what his feelings towards Killua mean exactly and how they might differ from those of a normal friendship.

I feel like because Killua's feelings become so apparent in CAA and Gon's attention gets directed away from Killua at that point due to all his trauma and pain, people are quick to discount all of Gon's affection towards Killua before that--"キルアじゃなきゃダメなんだ/It has to be Killua," from the dodgeball match in particular is a line with a lot of romantic subtext in Japanese, how hard he fights to get Killua back in the Zoldyck family arc, all the verbal affection he gives him, the fact that he's proud to have him as his friend and that he wants to show him off to Ging, it just goes on and on. Gon clearly thinks the world of Killua and trusts him above anyone else.

And sure, with Gon it's possible to read his feelings as just platonic. I personally think it goes beyond that, both from what I see in canon and my own interpretation. But I do think it's not debatable that Gon loves Killua (in whatever way you choose to see that love), and even in CAA when he's lost in the darkness, we repeatedly see that Killua is the only one who can bring him back from that. He's Gon's last lifeline and the one who means most to him. Killua sees Gon as his light, but I truly believe Killua is Gon's light, too. Even if Gon hasn't said as such like Killua has, this is conveyed metaphorically by Killua saving Gon's life while literally glowing from his electricity.

It's also worth noting that Gon doesn't see so much of what Killua has done for him and how strongly Killua feels about him. This is something we as the audience see multiple times and in multiple ways, but Killua puts up defenses constantly around Gon, deflects his affections, and hides his emotions and what he does on Gon's behalf. I don't think Gon is completely clueless because they're so attuned to each other, but he definitely doesn't have the full context either, so it's not as though he's had a chance to react to Killua's true depth of feelings for him.

Now that he's apart from Killua, this might be a point where Gon starts reflecting on and maybe piecing together how he feels about Killua. It's hard to say what will happen in canon (though I do anticipate an eventual reunion between them for reasons I'll get into in another post), but Ging's words emphasize the importance of the people who are with you on your journey, and with Killua bringing him back from the brink and then the two of them separating, this is a point where I think Gon might start pondering what kind of connection he wants to have with Killua in the future.

I could go on and on about this topic (and there's a good chance I will talk about it more), but I'll stop there for now. Thanks again for asking!