#but within their narratives they are not static!!!

[clotpolesonly]

did you miss the "don't infantilize Malia" part of my post?

Malia is, i repeat, a grown-ass woman. 32 years old, actually, if the movie is set 15 years after Allison's death when Malia was 17. even if you subtract her years as a coyote from her age entirely, which is already ludicrous, she would still have lived 24 fucking years as a human, which is more than enough for her to consent to having sex with whomever she damn well pleases.

when has she ever, even within canon as a recently-turned-back-to-human teenager, displayed any concrete sign that she was incapable of understanding the concepts of sex and consent? just because you feel like she should have displayed those signs and behaved/been treated like she was still 9 years old, there's a point at which you have to take what was given to us on screen for what it is and accept that she didn't. she was presented as a socially out-of-touch but otherwise intelligent and perceptive teenage girl who caught up with her peers very quickly and finished out high school on par with them by just about all developmental standards.

and now she has been living, as an adult fully integrated with human society, for 15 years. she has been human again for almost twice as long as she was a coyote in the first place. at what point does she earn back her right to be treated as a functional and independent person?

not to mention the entire concept of "mental age" is incredibly ableist, developed by eugenicists, used as a justification for stripping developmentally and intellectually disabled adults of their right to have agency in and control over their own lives and to restrict their right to have children (because, if a person is "mentally" a child themselves, then clearly it would be morally repugnant to allow them to have sex and breed). adults with mental disabilities can and do form adult relationships, have sex, and become parents on a regular basis, and no one else has absolutely any right to cast judgment on them or on their partners because of it.

there is no such thing as "mental age". there are only adults who may have limitations in their cognitive function and be in need of support in some areas. Malia is not and has never been "mentally still 9 years old". she was 17 years old in the show and she is 32 years old in this movie, and regardless of any lasting effect her time in the wild may have had on her (which, according to the evidence, is very little, none of which would reasonably interfere with her ability to consent to sex with another consenting adult), she will continue to be "mentally" a 32 year old adult woman. if you have a problem with a 32 year old woman having a relationship with a man also in his 30s, then you have drunk some serious puritan koolaid.

in summary, your argument is both ridiculous and offensive. find something else to be angry about.

another incorrect reason to hate the TW movie: Malia and Parrish's "age gap". y'all, they are both grown-ass adults, she is fucking 30 YEARS OLD by this point. he is not "taking advantage" of her because he is 37, they are both adults and long-time friends who are engaging in a consensual relationship. criticize them for being a bland and poorly formulated subplot if you want (i certainly do), but don't infantilize Malia and invent a power imbalance where there isn't one.

(also a 7 year age gap is an intensely hypocritical thing for Sterek shippers to condemn. just saying.)

[steveyockey]

To be aware you might be trans but unwilling to do anything about it is to create endlessly bigger boxes within which to contain yourself. When you are a child, that box might encompass only yourself and your parents. By the time you are a gainfully employed adult, that box will contain multitudes, and the thought of disrupting it will grow ever more unthinkable. So you cease to think of yourself as a person on some level; you think not of what you want but what everybody expects from you. You do your best not to make waves, and you apologize, if only implicitly, for existing. You stop being real and start being a construct, and eventually, you decide the construct is just who you are, and you swaddle yourself up in it, and maybe you die there. There is still time until there isn’t.

This reading of TV Glow’s deliberately anticlimactic, noncathartic ending cuts against the transition narrative you typically see in movies and TV, in which a trans person self-accepts, transitions, and lives a happier life. Owen gets trapped in a space where he knows what he must do to live an authentic life but simply refuses to take those steps because, well, burying yourself alive is a terrifying thing to do. The transition narrative posits a trans existence as, effectively, a binary switch between “man” and “woman” that gets flipped one way or another, but to make our lives so binary is to miss how trans existences possess an inherent liminality.

Humans’ lives unfold in a constant state of becoming until death, but trans people are uniquely keyed in to what this means thanks to the simple fact of our identities. You can get lost in that liminality, too, forever trapped in a midnight realm of your own making, stuck between what you believe is true (I am a nice man with a good family and a good job, and I love my life) and what you know, deep in your most terrified heart of hearts, is real (I am a girl suffocating in a box).

And yet if you want to read the film as being about the dangerous allure of nostalgia, you’re not wrong. I Saw the TV Glow totally supports that interpretation, too! But in tempting you with that reading, the film creates a trap for cis viewers that will be all too familiar to trans viewers. Somewhere in the middle of Maddy’s story about The Pink Opaque being real, you will make a choice between “This kid has lost it!” and “No. Go with her, Owen,” and in asking you to make that choice, TV Glow is simulating the act of self-accepting a trans identity.

See, the grimmer read of the film’s ending truly is a nihilistic one. It leaves no hope, no potential for growth, no exit. Yet you must actively choose to read that ending as nihilistic. If you are cis and the end of I Saw the TV Glow left you with a gnawing sense of dissatisfaction, a weird but hard-to-pin-down feeling that something had broken, and a melancholy bordering on horror — congratulations, this movie gave you contact-high gender dysphoria.

In an infinite number of possible universes, there is at least one where I am still living “as a man,” embracing my fictionality, avoiding looking at how much more raw and real I feel when I “pretend” to be a woman. I think about that guy sometimes. I hope he’s okay.

Consider, then, my cis reader, that TV Glow is for both you and me, but it is maybe most of all for him. I hope he sees it. I hope he breaks down crying in the bathroom afterward. I hope he, after so many years locked inside himself, hears the promise of more life through the hiss of TV static.

Emily St. James, “I Saw the TV Glow’s Ending Is Full of Hope, If You Want It to Be,” Vulture. June 4, 2024.

[genderkoolaid]

tbh my opinion isnt so much that trans men cannot have male privilege. its that the way we understand male privilege is based in cis women, specifically otherwise privileged (esp. otherwise-gendered privilege, i.e gender-conforming/straight/perisex) cis women's understanding of gender as something static and inherent to who you are, rather than something fluid which is, in part, constructed by society and placed onto you separately in every moment.

can a trans man experience (cis) male privilege? yes. can a trans woman? yes. and so can a cis woman! hell, a femme perisex cis woman with a gender neutral name could if she's assumed to be a cis man on a resume. male privilege is not an on/off switch. the idea that it is stems from cissexist understandings of male/female as entirely separate and static categories which everyone can and must be understood through. trans people in feminism are expected to constantly defend and deflect accusations of being Privileged Male Oppressors by promising cis perisex women that our experiences are just like theirs! we don't have any scary opinions that don't align with their worldview! we swear we won't ever make them have to reflect on how being cis+perisex has biased them and potentially made their analysis of gender at all inaccurate! trans experiences are only considered valuable to cisfeminism to the extent that they reaffirm what cisfeminists already hold true. thats why they only ever want to talk about a very simplistic narrative around wages pre/post-transition. its extremely unthreatening to cis people because it presents transness in patriarchy as just going from one cis role to another; it doesn't ask cis feminists to expand their paradigm to include the ways in which trans people are treated as a class and their own complicity in transphobic oppression.

which is why trans men have been getting fucked over by trans-affirmng cisfeminism. because by virtue of having our gender acknowledged, we are expected to forfeit our place in the feminist movement and adopt the role of outsider along cis men*. and its also why trans women and MTX people get fucked over the minute they cannot or refuse to describe their experiences through the one or two approved narratives. cisfeminism cannot tolerate transness-as-transness. it has to be compressed and reduced and diluted into something that fits within a cis-centric framework. we aren't allowed to have nuanced and intersectional conversations about trans men & other trans folks relationship with male privilege, the things we have to sacrifice to there, how fleeting it can be, the fact that for some of us being read as "biologically male" is actively more dangerous than being read as female... if it isn't familiar to cis women, then it means you aren't really oppressed.

*cis men should not be outsiders in feminism either btw but thats another post

[whovianbuffalo]

Dot and Bubble thoughts

This episode was first and foremost an allegory for racism and the entitlement of white elites, and this little touch of “charging rebranded as 'work'”(because it's 'tedious') is interesting here.

Lindy later says "my job's not easy, I get chapping" which shows she clearly hasn't worked out that "work" has become a meaningless phrase in their carefully-controlled society.

Before this, Ricky says people used to do 'manual labor, for money', but Lindy still self-identified as a wealthy person when Ruby asked, and said "Only people who can afford it" are sent to Finetime, yet

So... I can understand why some people feel that this episode is trying to take a shot at Gen-Z and no one else, but I will say it does seem to be a valid critique of performative activism.

Lindy mentions that she is using 'refurb' clothing and therefore isn't using up any of Finetime's resources, which is one of the only indications we are given that this 'utopia' is, of course, falling apart. The other indication comes in the opening of the episode when the newsreader informs them "Not going to lie, we are having trouble with the weather satellite".

A friend of Lindy's compliments her outfit- a woman who says "Kindness all the time" (an ultimately hollow phrase) is preferable in this society to The Doctor and Ruby, who are seen as impolite for daring to interrupt their bubbles, but, ultimately, The Doctor is shut out due to racism and colorism. Ruby is an outsider too, but because she is white and blonde and blue eyed they never question if she is a "contagion".

The Doctor was no 'ruder' than Ruby, but Lindy focuses on him anyway.

I appreciate that we see an early indication of Lindy's selfishness in her first meeting with Ricky here.

Interesting that instead of "heaven's sake" Gothic says "For land's sake". This makes sense for a culture so clearly obsessed with Manifest Destiny, and of course reaffirms their belief that Finetime is "heaven", of sorts.

It's clear that they still have some Religious/Phantasmagorical connection to a mythical heaven, as Lindy says "You mean she's in The Sky? Isn't she lucky!" rather than think about the realities of death or an afterlife. And just in case we were wondering if this culture was religious, they invoke the deity (and Manifest Destiny) directly:

The specific way in which Dot and Bubble forces the viewer to sit with Lindy throughout the episode- static scenes shot of her very boring life and her extremely vapid, empty social life (which I appreciate The Doctor calls out as being enough to drive the AI to homicide) makes us feel trapped and complicit in her behavior, and Ricky's, too.

We're watching the narrative unfold from within the bubble and the screen is literally obscured, peeling back the layers until we finally meet the doctor in person- but Lindy's reaction is off.

And then... We don't follow them. The camera shrinks back, and the impossibly wide world which they wanted to conquer shrinks back into a tiny dot as their boat fades out into the horizon. We're left with Ruby and The Doctor and a TARDIS which is bigger on the inside, but we don't see inside her.

Great work from the director of photography here and amazing work from the cast and crew all round to make a script which must have looked extreme repetitive on paper- the constant use of the word "Forwards. Forwards. Forwards" must have been a hard slog in the read-through— work so well onscreen. How prodigious that it would appear have been too expensive to film during the 11th doctor's era and was shelved for more than a decade until we could get Ncuti Gatwa to fully embody this experience.

This episode was an excellent satire (of multiple things!) and I'm not sure it would have landed the same way in a previous era... But it feels incredibly timely now if you are willing to listen to it.

[nohaijiachi]

I got randomly recommended this video by YT and wrote a ginormous comment in response because I have no self control, apparently, so I thought I might as well also share my thoughts here in regard to whatever is going with THIS FUCKING SMILE

(under a cut to not clog y'alls dashboards)

(the first part of the comment here is a direct response to some of the ideas put forth in the video, it is very short so give it a quick watch for more context if you want)

Imo it's not necessary to look into overcomplicated theories that rely too much on off screen shenanigans to explain the smile, for how amusing the idea of them having swapped during the kiss is (like, the kind of stuff I won't want to be actually canon, but I'll be very happy to see explored in fan fics lol)

I think to fully explain that smile we have to take in consideration multiple factors:

This show is very purposeful in what it does and doesn't, well... show. That last shot is very long and I think the fact that Aziraphale's and Crowley's expressions in the aftermath of their disastrous break up is shown in such a manner tells us a LOT about the state of mind they might be at the start of S3, and the obstacles they'll have to face. Aziraphale doesn't immediately smile, rather he seems to look almost shell-shocked for most of the shot; it's clear (to me at least lol) that the quiet ride up the elevator is finally giving him some desperately needed time to fully digest everything that happened, because too much has happened in an extremely short amount of time, and we all know Aziraphale doesn't do well with speed lol.

But, for how much he can sometimes be a complete moron, he is smart, and all he needs are just those seconds of quiet to properly ponder on everything, on the choices made and the ramifications of said choices, and that's how we get to smile-- I'll delve into what I think Aziraphale is going through in his mind in more details later, because I also think it's necessary to focus a bit on Crowley's own expression, since the both of them are so intrinsically linked that the narrative cannot make sense without taking the both of them into account.

Crowley's expression is much more static and doesn't change the way Aziraphale's does; he looks profoundly tired in ways we've never seen him before. I don't think he's giving up on Aziraphale, and I fully believe the fact that he stood there and waited for Aziraphale to disappear in the elevator, the both of them sharing that last look, was a quiet message: He'll never give up on Aziraphale, he'll be there, waiting. But wait is all he can do for Aziraphale, now, because he can't follow where Aziraphale is going.

For how messy and full of heightened emotions the confession + kiss are, I think actually denying Aziraphale's request was a HUGE step forward for Crowley's character. He's never been able to deny Aziraphale, he always went back to him after every fight, and we all know how stupidly whipped for Aziraphale he is and how he'd empty the ocean with a spoon if Aziraphale asked him nicely-- But to actually put his foot down and say "no, I cannot do this for you" when asked to all but renounce the person he is now? Especially with how Aziraphale is all but begging him openly? That's a huge step, and something I think Crowley desperately needs to mature as a person (or, well, person-shaped being). We all love how Aziraphale has him wrapped around his little finger I'm sure, but we also all know that if they truly want to build a strong, healthy relationship they also both need to be able to keep their individuality and to put forth adequate boundaries about what they are willing to do for each other within reason.

Asking Crowley to come back to being an angel when he's made blatantly clear for six thousand bloody years how much he despises Heaven is not a 'within reason' request, innit?

So, yeah, for how heartbreaking the break-up was, in a sense Crowley needs it. They both do. They both need time apart to figure their own shit out, dismantle all those unhealthy habits they had to adopt in order to be with one another as safely as they possibly could while still 'employed', and then come back together with a clearer mind and a whole deal stronger than before, both as individuals and as a couple.

And I think how tired and downtrodden Crowley looks in that last shot is a precursor to this process, just as much as Aziraphale's smile is... So, let me get back to our favorite angel and what I personally think is going on with him.

I think to properly contextualize that smile we need to look at not just the happening of those infamous last fifteen minutes, but of S2 as a whole, and what Aziraphale does in it.

So, what is Aziraphale doing during S2?

At the start he seems to be more or less comfortably settled in his current life; he's as happy as ever doing what he's always done, enjoying humanity's creativity with his books and his music and his food and drinks, seemingly content to be puttering about in his bookshop (which is a stark contrast with Crowley's homelessness and his kinda adrift and depressed attitude). Of course then Jim!Gabriel throws a wrench right into that, but imo I think there was a lot more going on behind the facade of Aziraphale's well ingrained habits.

Sure, he still has all of his familiar comforts and his routine, but from the moment we see him interact with Crowley I saw a deep restlessness emerge in him: The panicked look he launches Crowley when Nina asks him about his 'naked man friend', the way he speaks with Crowley with all those 'our' he uses, the blatant way he keeps reaching over and touching Crowley-- To me that suggests that Aziraphale is clearly not as happy as he seems to be on a superficial glance. He clearly wants more with Crowley, wants to bring their relationship to the next step, but because the both of them are so deeply entrenched in their unhealthy coping mechanisms and habits and their inability to openly communicate it doesn't even occur to Aziraphale to just... You know. Take the first step, actually say something about it. So he just keeps throwing bait after bait in the water, hoping Crowley will bite and be the one taking the initiative as he's always done, finally allowing Aziraphale to accept said initiative, this time around.

Of course, we all see that Crowley doesn't take any first step, which is probably something deeply frustrating for Aziraphale at a subconscious level. That's how we get the ball; sure, on the face of it it was Aziraphale's way to make Nina and Maggie fall in love, but... Was it, really? Let's be real, for how entirely believable it is that Aziraphale makes up the lie about Nina and Maggie's love to cover for their miracle is, since we've seen him being anxious around other angels, I don't think for a second that had Aziraphale just stopped and spent three minutes thinking about it he wouldn't have found a way to convince Muriel that Nina and Maggie were, in fact, in love, especially with how 'green' Muriel is about humans.

I fully believe that Aziraphale is not properly thinking during S2, period. He's frustrated by his inability to bring his and Crowley's relationship to what he wants it to be, and that frustration and single-minded objective is utterly obfuscating his thought process. There are plenty of moments he seemed almost manic, imo, which I read as another sign about his 'impaired' (allow me the term) state of mind as of S2.

So, yes, the ball: On the face of it something to actually turn his lie to the Archangels into truth, but deeper down, perhaps almost unconsciously, I think Aziraphale sees the ball as a way to finally make him and Crowley happen. That fact that he's taking pointers about romance from human literature is blatant, and obviously he truly does believe the ball will be THE way to make love bloom.

If you stop and think about it, the ball scene is terrifying. These people are being manipulated to play the perfect background parts to make, what is in Aziraphale's mind, the height of romance atmosphere happen. The fact we get a juxtaposition with Nina's "what the F is going on, am I losing my mind???" rightful attitude underlines this. And I truly believe Aziraphale isn't exerting said manipulation with intent, but rather doing so subconsciously, because he's just so fixated on the idea of having finally the perfect set-up to have Crowley as he desires that he is influencing everything around him. After all, we all know they both have the tendency of making things happen the way they want simply by thinking that's how things are supposed to happen.

And again, he's so manic and giddy when he asks Crowley to dance, his ass is not LISTENING. He literally needed a brick thrown through a window to snap out of it.

So, in the present we have an Aziraphale who , in his own way, is trying to take the initiative, come out with plans. There is a moment that I think might have slipped under the radar of a lot of people but that's frightfully important about who Aziraphale is at this point in the story, and who he will need to become: "I have a plan," Aziraphale said to Crowley during the stare down with the demons outside of the bookshop after the ruined ball; Crowley didn't even seem to have registered that sentence at all, because his mind is already projected forward and going a mile a minute about what to do to keep both the humans and Aziraphale safe in this situation.

Crowley, who loves to swoop in and save Aziraphale, doing what he's always done to keep his angel safe, even to the detriment of their relationship with one another... And Aziraphale, who adores playing the part of the damsel in distress in turn, is actually telling Crowley that *he has a plan*.

That's not something to take lightly, methinks. That's very much just another sign that Aziraphale's individuality is struggling, trying to emerge through Aziraphale's anxiety and doubts and fears and deeply ingrained habits. Aziraphale's cognitive dissonance in regards to heaven, and his shaken faith in God are huge motivators of his actions, and in the grand scheme of things the scant few years he had away from under the oppressive thumb of heaven is nothing. It was barely any time at all in the face of the eternity of an immortal life spent under that oppression, and yet we are already seeing little glimpses of Aziraphale's rebellious side struggling to get fully free.

I think these little glimpses inform us at great lengths about the evolution Aziraphale's character will go through in S3, and greatly explains that strange smile right at the end; in my opinion that smile isn't the smile of someone who's trying to convince himself that he's ok, or realizing that Crowley loves him (he knew already, they both knew and have known for a long time, their inability to properly express those feelings was their downfall, but I don't think either of them has doubted even for a second when it comes to how much they love one another). In my opinion that smile is the smile of someone who is steeling himself for what he envisions in his future; equal parts old-sedated anxiety and yet determination to actually enact plans he's surely concocting in his brilliant little mind. That's the smile of someone who has just realized that not only they can, but that they need to do something, and you can damn well be sure they won't be sitting and twiddling their thumbs waiting to be saved, but they'll be the one saving themselves and everybody else along with 'em, this time.

Just as Crowley needs to actually spend some time define himself as himself, and not just in relation to Aziraphale, Aziraphale needs to spend some time shedding all those fears and doubts that are weighing him down, and emerge the other side someone much more self-assured and ready to do what he thinks is right without all the hesitations that have indirectly been strengthened by Crowley; in a way, by allowing Aziraphale an out with his 'temptations', Crowley had been feeding into those hesitations, and had been holding Aziraphale back from fully maturing, even if not done on purpose, obviously. Imo is very important for Aziraphale's character that he comes to realize that he doesn't need those excuses Crowley gifted him to keep doing what he thinks is right, that he actualizes his own morality properly, and enacts on it.

I don't have the faintest clue about what is going to happen in S3, but I do fully believe the above paragraph is what Aziraphale and Crowley's respective character arcs will focus on. And once they'll come back together they'll be the most power couple that has ever power coupl-ed, and the Metatron will have no clue about what is about to hit him >:)

[calypsolemon]

A frequent occurrence I've noticed over my many years in the ninjago fandom is that ppl will get obsessed with certain events in the show that they feel were not given accurate emotional weight. Which is often a defensible critique, but as a result everyone formulates in their minds what the emotional fallout should have been, and so really they get obsessed with the consequences of the event that they imagine should have occurred. Ppl get so attached to these headcanons that they get angry when the show goes in any direction that negates them, even if its handled competently within the narrative and aligns better with the direction the show has taken overall. And it often leaves ppl stuck with an underdeveloped, static image of what the characters actually are like and what they could be capable of in the future, which they insist is a superior version to canon simply because their initial criticism holds water.

[novlr]

Types of Character Arcs

Just like there are various flavours of ice cream to satisfy our taste buds, there are different types of character arcs to captivate readers’ imaginations.

Transformational Arc: A character undergoes a profound transformation throughout the story. This transformational arc takes them on a journey of personal growth, where they evolve, learn from their experiences, and undergo significant change. Think Frodo Baggins from The Lord of the Rings, who starts as an ordinary hobbit and becomes a heroic figure, or Cinderella, who goes from being a mistreated servant to a princess.

Flat or Static Arc: Not all character arcs involve drastic change or growth. In a flat or static arc, the character remains relatively unchanged throughout the story. Instead of personal transformation, these characters serve as a stabilizing force or a moral compass within the narrative. They maintain their core values, beliefs, or traits, providing stability and guidance for others. Sherlock Holmes is a prime example of a character with a flat arc. His brilliant deductive reasoning and logical nature remain consistent, while the world around him evolves.

Positive Change Arc: In a positive change arc, a character starts with flaws, struggles, or a particular mindset, but over the course of the story, they experience personal growth and positive transformation. They learn valuable lessons, overcome obstacles, and develop into a better version of themselves. This arc is often associated with themes of redemption, self-discovery, and the triumph of the human spirit. Characters like Ebenezer Scrooge from A Christmas Carol or Katniss Everdeen from The Hunger Games exemplify positive change arcs.

Negative Change Arc: Contrasting the positive change arc, the negative change arc delves into the descent or downfall of a character. It explores the moral decline, corruption, or internal conflicts that lead the character astray. This arc can be dark and intense, showcasing the destructive power of choices or external influences. Characters like Macbeth from Shakespeare’s play or Anakin Skywalker in Star Wars demonstrate the negative change arc. 💻✨ Discover how the transformative journeys of character arcs breathe life into your stories, and captivate the hearts and minds of your readers. You can read the full post in the Reading Room at the link above.

[salty-an-disco]

OK, making this theory its own post cuz I really think I’m onto something–

The Voices are a consequence of The Long Quiet still having pieces of The Shifting Mound within it.

They’re the pinpricks of light within an endless and stagnant void. If Shifty is flickering lights in empty cityscapes that need to be filled to become more, Quiet is dark alleyways that need to be illuminated to become more.

And that’s the Voices’ purposes, we’re collecting pieces of ourselves as we bring Shifty her own pieces, illuminating us both to our natures; Shifty, by seeing what her pieces are through the reflection of stagnancy, and us, by seeing our facets through the reflection of change.

And that’s by design.

Narrator needed us to have a bit of change within us so that not only could we actually act and slay the princess, but so that the world without Shifting Mound wouldn’t be just Nothing. But a consequence of that is the presence of the voices.

We’re the Long Quiet, stagnancy and nothingness, we are static, we can’t really change, just perceive, so we can’t really hold new perspectives within outselves, they need to be broken off — shards of broken glass reflecting back to us the perspectives we can’t hold — and because they also reflect part of Shifty (change), they are able to grow outside of the perspective that first molded them.

That’s also why I think Quiet will never stop breaking off into new voices, that’s simply how they experience the world aka. STP is a plural narrative evidence 237.

[rainbow-crane]

In-Depth Analysis On All The DR Characters Because What, Are You Gonna Try And Stop Me? Who Are You, My Mom? Yeah, I Didn't Think So- Part 4: Yasuhiro Hagakure

I've actually managed to hype myself up a good bit for this one, despite the fact I'm not fond of Hiro. If there's anything I've learned since starting this series, it's that taking the time to actually absorb these characters and their full existence in the narrative reveals a lot more than you get just by playing the game normally, and I'm hopeful that doing that will make Hiro that much better of a character for me. So, let's dive in.

Per usual, this analysis uses only official materials from the DR series, primarily the english translation of the game. If you aren't that interested in lengthy yapping, then keep scrolling.

Part 1- Character Design

Yasuhiro Hagakure wears several layers of clothing, having a haramaki, white button-up, and his old high school uniform all on over a yellow shirt and a pair of baggy black pants tied up with a yellow bow. His old high school emblem is purposefully designed to look like the yin and yang symbol, and his hair is up in locs styled to bend backwards and stick out at odd angles.

Yasuhiro is a dual character, typically either being the most relaxed or the most panicked person in the room. This sort of duality is likely why he was given the yin and yang symbol, a symbol of balance, along with his talent. Yasuhiro was given the talent of SHSL Fortune Teller, or Ultimate Clairvoyant, and has a unique connection to the spirit world. This may also be why his hair is designed to stick out, similar to how when you touch an object with enough static, your hair stands up. In this way, we can see Yasuhiro is visibly connected to the spirit world at all times.

Part 2- Character Introduction

Hiro is actually the first character to speak in-game after Makoto's self-introduction, calling out in surprise when Makoto gets to the main hall with everyone else("Woah, hey! Another new kid?") He then continues on to be the first one we're able to identify as speaking after the class panover is completed.

This immediately makes him stick out, as this is the character the game makes a point to show you directly before anyone else- not Sayaka, Kyoko, Byakuya- nope, Hiro is first and foremost. Despite this, he fades into the background of the conversation almost immediately after as everyone else decides to introduce themselves to each other. When we get back to his introduction(one of the last ones we see), he introduces himself as someone who takes it easy, and tells you to do the same. We know from Makoto's internal dialogue that he has little to no knowledge on fortune telling, and thus, have almost no insight to Hiro's perspective. We also learn that within the psychic community, he's referred to as 'Supernova'. As he begins to speak, though, we learn exactly what the game's plan for his clairvoyance is: a big joke.

Though, he himself admits he's joking around, and invites Makoto to talk about Lemurian civilization. Lemuria is a debunked theory about a potential 8th continent that was believed to have sunk into the Indian Ocean, disproved by further research on continental drift and plate tectonics. Despite this, it still remains as a subject of conspiracy for many, and tells us a lot about Hiro's interests. Combined with his talent in fortune-telling, Hiro is someone with a fascination for what lies beneath the surface of human understanding. We also learn that he's of drinking age(20 in Japan, though this was changed to 21 in the English translation to reflect international drinking laws). He admits this is due to being held back a few years, waving it off as a 'long story' that we never get to hear.

As the class continues to talk, he remains completely calm, and insists it's all part of the fancy school's orientation. He continues to hold this belief even after Monokuma appears at the entrance ceremony, playing off Monokuma's threat of the killing game and Monokuma himself as a bit.

"Reveal the trick...?" "Yeah, cuz I mean... Y'know, this is all some kinda trick and all, right? So uh, like..."

So our first impression of Hiro is that he's a laidback older guy who isn't the sharpest knife in the kitchen, and that he's into conspiracies.

Part 3- Early Game Development

Once the game's officially started, Hiro very much takes a backseat so the story and mystery can develop, to the point where even when the entire class is talking about their explorations and what they found, Hiro remains silent, only telling the others to chill and continuing to say he believes this is all planned by the school. He appears completely unbothered by the whole situation.

"I mean, this was all planned out, right? The people in charge of Hope's Peak put this all together, right? Man, if I got stressed every time something like this happened, I'd have ectoplasm shooting out my mouth!"

Despite this, if you take the opportunity to talk to him in the laundry room the following morning, you get this:

Despite Hiro's insistence that this is all normal, he's run himself ragged trying to find out why they're trapped in the school. It suggests that his relaxed attitude towards the situation may be some kind of a facade to keep both himself and the others calm. He continues to insist upon it even after multiple days have passed, when Monokuma reappears again to give out the motive videos("Why the hell are you laughing?" "I'm just impressed at the total commitment to this whole act.") He refuses to acknowledge the mere possibility of this situation being an actual threat to their lives, even after watching the motive video of (presumably) his mother and sister in danger.

He insists on it to the point where he doesn't realize the truth of the situation until "Junko" is impaled with a ton of spears and dies right in front of him, and even then, his reaction is delayed, not realizing until Makoto and Byakuya check her for a pulse.

"Sh-she's... dead!? Then that means...! That means everything that's happened so far is real!? It's not a joke or whatever!? It's really real!? Hell no! Someone save me! Let me outta here! SOMEBODY HELP ME!!!" "You're j-just now accepting that...?"

He switches from total calm to ungodly terror, as he didn't experience the dread leading up to the incident that everyone else did. The horror renders him immobile for nearly the entire investigation, only pulled out of shock when Makoto shows him his broken glass ball.

"Did that guy totally dupe me!? He said it belonged to the pillars of history... Genghis Khan, George Washington, Napoleon... He said whoever controlled that crystal ball controlled the world! Was that seriously all BS!?"

"I'm almost afraid to ask, but how much did you pay for that thing?" "Everything I'd saved up from fortune-telling for two full years. Came out to be like... a million."

Not only did he pay that much for what was pretty obviously a glass ball, he fully believed that story despite the fact one of the named holders that 'controlled the world' was a failed emperor that died in exile. It is a hand-sized glass ball. Paying $1M in USD shouldn't have even been on the table in the first place.

Hiro goes into the next chapter still completely panicking, babbling on to Makoto about the 'ill omen' that is the items set in the display case and once again begging to the heavens to be released from the school.

"Ahhh! I've been struck with knowledge! It's an ill omen of total devastation and ruin! L-Let me outta here! Let me ouuuut!"

It's a bit late, as the only dangerous item from that case was used in the previous murder, but better late than never, I suppose.

Prior to the motive announcement, Hiro reveals that he was the one to pick up on the goings-on outside of Hope's Peak, having been in the dining hall and heard what he described as 'noises like a construction site'. It's important enough that Monokuma confirms the noises to be a) real and b) the result of some level of violence, as his provided explanations are an explosion or machine gun. So although Hiro himself hasn't had much of a story yet, he's still keeping his ears open and is at least paying some attention to the problem at hand now.

During the investigation, Hiro ends up in a much better position, now able to not go into total shock and do an investigation of his own. Although it doesn't yield many results, talking to him makes it clear that he's both trying to find something useful and trying to keep what information he does have private before the trial, which is progress. He's doing something instead of just sitting on his ass, and he's trying to remain secretive, even if he's really bad at it.

When the trial comes around, he's excited to provide evidence, being the one to tell the class about the e-handbooks in the mailbox despite insistence that he probably couldn't help anyway. Despite this, he takes it well when he's told he's wrong the second he's given a reason.

"No, she DID have a way! And I can tell you what it was!" "I highly doubt that." "Shut up! I'm telling you, I know how she could've done it!" ('it' being Chihiro entering the girls' locker room)

"She used the thing that was in the main hall!" "Huh? What thing?" "I'm talkin' about Leon's handbook, of course!"

"Why not!?" "Because Leon's handbook was broken." "Oh! Well then yeah, I guess that'd be pretty impossible, huh?"

Part 4- Midgame Events (In fact, we're gonna frame you for murder!)

Now that Taka's grieving, Hiro remembers he's significantly older than the rest of the class and decides to step up as the class rep and keep everyone calm and focused, at least until Taka can take over again. Although it doesn't last for very long, it's a nice gesture on Hiro's part, and shows some level of responsibility from him.

He's the one to direct the class to the 3rd floor and opens up to conversation about what they found, doing everything he can think of to both keep the class' gaze fixed ahead and try to rouse Taka from his silent state, though this falls apart the second Hina starts talking about a ghost.

Despite his efforts, Kyoko is the one who's really in charge here, and instead, Hiro becomes a messenger for her, alerting the rest of the class to 'bathtime' and acting as a voice of reason when both Hifumi and Taka become obsessed with Alter Ego.

"I happened to do a psychic reading for a certain famous CEO once... And that guy was seriously head over heels for a mannequin. He had a wedding and everything! And your eyes just now... I saw the same look in HIS eyes!"

"Oh, Taka! Are you back!?" "Who the hell's Taka!?" "Um... you?"

He also delivers letters to everyone in class when Kyoko has an important update on Alter Ego, assuming that the files have been decrypted. It's also worth noting he has remarkably clean penmanship, and this is attributed to his supernatural beliefs.

The following morning, when Hiro is one of the many students to go missing, Celeste sets it up so that almost everyone is led to believe that Hiro is the obvious culprit before he even so much as gets a chance to defend himself- falsifying and planting evidence, removing proof of innocence to the best of her ability, and manipulating Hifumi to help her- all with the stroke of luck in her favor that even after remembering his life before the game, Hifumi still couldn't betray her when he tried because her legal surname was the same as his first. On a surface level, almost every slip-up or seemingly stupid move was shrugged off as 'well, Hiro's an idiot anyway, so he probably didn't realize,' which is exactly what Celeste bet on. The only one who wouldn't automatically fall under this assumption (Kyoko) was so distracted by her own schemes that she was pulled out of the investigation for the vast majority of it. Even Byakuya completely fell for it until Makoto pointed out some of the inconsistencies to him.

But here's the thing: Hiro's gullible, not stupid. He may fall for other people's schemes, but he can just as easily craft his own and sell them, even when the person being sold to knows they're being duped to some degree. He's a businessman at heart, and you can't become a successful businessman if your schemes don't work. If Celeste wanted her plan to work, then she chose the wrong guy to frame. (The game never actually addresses this directly, but from a meta perspective, it's pretty obvious Hiro is just being used as a red herring, and it's all symbolized in his handwriting- Hiro is more put-together than he's given credit for, and that truth creates the physical evidence of his innocence Celeste couldn't change.)

I mean, Hiro deliberately plays up his own stupidity in the trial, taking the argument that was supposed to work against him and using it in his favor to convince everyone around him of his own incompetency. That's not the strategy of someone incapable of working out a survival plan.

"Come on, I'm not smart enough to think of trying to change my handwriting anyway!" <- a direct contradiction to when he writes Toko's name in blood in handwriting not of his own in the following chapter

Hiro being a red-herring suspect for a murder is quickly followed up with Hiro being a red-herring suspect for a murder. Yes, they do it twice, but this time, Hiro himself believes he's responsible. So there's enough differentiation to warrant it within the plot.

With chapter 4, Hiro's paranoia hits an all-new level. And for good reason, too. Not only have there been 5 attempted murders in the span of just over 2 weeks, 3 of which were intentional and 4 of which were successful, there's also a known serial killer chilling with the rest of the class that's known specifically for attacking men. Not only that, he was literally framed for a double murder case just a couple days ago, and to top it all off, Sakura, the visibly strongest person not only in the class, but also officially recognized as strongest person in the world, has been outed as a spy for Monokuma. So naturally, Hiro's a little on edge when he receives the invite from Sakura to meet in the rec room. So when he hears her muttering to herself-

"This is it... I'm going to end it today... I'm going to end... everything." "As soon as I heard that, I just knew... I knew she was gonna try and kill me! She was gonna kill me and make her escape!"

So, rather then let that potential end happen, he made the panicked decision to defend himself.

He admits to this pretty quickly in the trial as well, as the moment the dying message is disproven as being from Sakura, he caves and tells them everything that happened from his perspective. And he feels terrible about it, too, accepting that he has to die for what he did.

"Well, that's what happened. Go ahead, roast me, boil me, do whatever you want..."

Once Makoto and Kyoko are able to prove he's innocent, it's a massive weight off his shoulders. His fear and panic all but disappear, and he spends the rest of the trial in a much more relaxed state.

And once the trial is over, and they've all heard the truth about Sakura's case, he throws his full support to Hina and Sakura, unable to be mad at either of them.

"This is because of our misplaced hatred. I don't blame her(Sakura)! I CAN'T blame her! And nobody can blame Hina, either!"

Besides being a suspect in both murder cases, Hiro has another important moment in chapter 4. At breakfast on the first morning, after sharing his prediction of no more murders, he tells the story of his encounter with aliens, in which a burger that was supposedly 100% beef was beamed up by an alien spaceship. And because aliens supposedly steal cows, the meat separated and only took 30% of the meat. When he went back to the restaurant, they admitted to mixing pork into the meat. This story is representative of Hiro's own fortune-telling, as only 30% of his predictions are real and the rest are done just for money.

Part 5- Character Relationships

Though none of them are given a main focus in-game, Hiro has fairly important dynamics with about half the cast of THH. Actually, basically everyone that made it past chapter 2 has an established dynamic with Hiro.

5.1- Kiyotaka Ishimaru

Though it's a bit of a one-sided relationship, Hiro is the only character to show any concern for Taka going into chapter 3. After the brutal death of Mondo, Taka goes comatose, and won't eat, sleep, or speak to anyone. It's when in this state that Hiro attempts to get him back in action as class rep, more than once. Unfortunately, he never really succeeds, though this does leave us with the implication that he was the one who told Taka about Alter Ego, as it doesn't make sense for it to have been anyone else at this point.

5.2- Hifumi Yamada

Similar to Taka, Hifumi spends chapter 3 with a special interest in Alter Ego. Hiro is the one that tries to get through to him, calling out his strange behavior and likening it to a former client in love with a mannequin. The two of them also bounce off of each other quite a bit in the first half of the game during group conversations, and when they do, it often paints Hiro in a more reasonable light. As the older and therefore more mature of the two, he knows when Hifumi is full of shit and calls him on it, particularly when he's being horny("But he's a guy! And also a computer program!" "Oh, that aspect is no problem." "That... aspect?").

Hifumi later goes on to work with Celeste to frame him for the murder of both Taka and himself. It's unclear if he had any resentment for Hiro or if he just agreed with Celeste that he'd make a good scapegoat.

5.3- Celestia Ludenberg

Celeste frames him for murder, despite the fact that they didn't have much interaction before then. Why Hiro, though?

"Because you're stupid." "That's it!?" "And in that regard, I made the right choice. I'm so glad your stupidity surpassed my every expectation. Life must have been tough on your parents, though." "I feel like I could cry..."

Not only is this one final dig from her before her execution, it's also just blatantly wrong. Not only was Hiro not there for the majority of the investigation(by her design), but the supposed stupidity of his character she's referencing had almost no effect on the investigation or trial. Rather, it was the assumptions of the rest of the cast that benefitted her, with characters like Hina and Byakuya going along with the same assumption she wanted them to. He was almost immediately proven innocent by Makoto, and was only considered a suspect because Celeste herself kept hounding the idea.

In short, this proved Celeste the idiot. She didn't know her opponent at all, and so she lost, lying about it to the bitter end.

5.4- Sakura Ogami

Hiro's lack of a significant relationship with her is more important than what they did have. Throughout THH, Hiro consistently refers to Sakura not by name, but by the demeaning nickname given to her online, 'Ogre', due to how physically imposing she is. As such, the two never really connect, and when she's outed by Monokuma as the spy, he turns against her immediately, even when they were relatively friendly with each other up until that point. He doesn't necessarily want to distrust her, but not only is her allegiance under fire, but he's already been betrayed and directly put in the line of fire once. He has to consider his safety first, so he cuts her out with the others, though he does say if she makes good on her assertion to defeat the mastermind, that he'll forgive her("If she really can beat the mastermind like she said, that'd go a long way in my mind...").

But even if he isn't condemning her to hell like Byakuya and Toko, he still doesn't know her. He never bothered to try. So when she invites him to talk, he stays on his guard. The game has rendered him unable to connect to her, and so when he hears her speak of 'ending everything', he can only assume the worst. And it leads him to open the case of Sakura's attacker- not Toko, not Jack, not Byakuya. Hiro starts it. And he carries that guilt into her trial.

5.4- Byakuya Togami, Aoi Asahina, Toko Fukawa, Genocide Jill

Hiro has a fairly antagonistic relationship with the other non-main-character survivors(and Byakuya, if you consider him one). The 5 of them spend most of the latter half of the game at each other's throats, often for miniscule, petty things. This is mostly used as a source of comedy, with each pointing out the others' flaws and making each other look dumb. However, when it comes down to it, they can get along and cooperate when it's important.

He gets along best with Hina, as both were part of the overarching group from the beginning, and both are consistently present whenever the group splits up(for example, before Chihiro's body is found). And because Toko and Jack follow Byakuya around, and Makoto and Kyoko are the main characters, the two of them end up as an unintentional pair when it comes to group dialogue, even ganging up on Byakuya or Toko when appropriate. That said, Hina doesn't like him much, either.

5.5- Kyoko

Kyoko acknowledges Hiro's attempts to become the leader of the class in Taka's absence, and uses him to communicate with the rest of the class about Alter Ego when necessary. He acts as her messenger, suggesting she trusted him to some extent, enough to let him be the messenger. Their relationship isn't expanded upon outside of this, though.

5.6- Makoto Naegi

Despite his mounting paranoia and trust issues in the previous chapters, Hiro is shown to trust Makoto specifically, likely because he was the one to prove his innocence in both chapter 3 and 4. He holds Makoto in high regard, enthusiastically agreeing with Kyoko to let him hold the knife in chapter 5 and attempting to explain the dismantling of Monokuma to him: "I'll explain what's goin' on, Makoto. Cuz that's how much I like ya! Byakuya found this li'l fella layin' around, then we tore it apart!" "That doesn't explain anything..."

Part 6- Hiro's Clairvoyance

Despite Hiro's claims of only having a 30% accuracy rating at best, his fortune-telling and bouts of clairvoyance are accurate a good few times in THH. I'm not doing the math to see if it actually falls between 20-30%, but it is enough to be significant.

In the prologue and 1st chapter, Hiro insists that the killing game must be a prank because of his total certainty that the execs of Hope's Peak were the ones who locked them in the school. This is revealed to be true in chapter 4, when Alter Ego reveals the Hope's Peak Headmaster planned the shelter, and the board signed off on it.

In his 1st FTE, Hiro reveals he's already seen that his and Makoto's paths intersect, and that the mother of their children is the same woman. This becomes true if you get the bad ending in chapter 5.

The chapter 2 cover art has Hiro holding a manga with Taka and Celeste covered in blood, with the number 2 beside Taka. This accurately depicts that Celeste would kill Taka in the following chapter, and that he'd be one of two victims of hers.

In the start of chapter 4, Hiro reveals a prediction that there won't be any more murders. This turns out to be true, as the only other deaths after this are both by suicide.

Hiro's wild guess about what started the Tragedy was later proven in the series to be correct repeatedly- Hope's Peak students' deaths started and continued the domino effect of the Tragedy. Hajime became Izuru due to Natsumi's and Sato's murders; the student council were all slaughtered inside the school as the beta kg; the Reserve Course students killed all the Main Course students that weren't either 77-B or 78-B, and then committed mass suicide via brainwashing. All the students were killed.

Part 7- An Inner Look

During THH, we get a look at both Hiro's bedroom and his locker in the main story. This gives us a unique glimpse into his mentality that we don't get with anyone else in THH.

Interestingly, his room and his locker are very different, despite them both containing his fortune-telling materials. In his bedroom, his books are stacked fairly neatly on the desk, and his divination tools are organized, being set on separate tables with a protective tablecloth underneath. The singing bowl and incense- which work for ambience- are kept on one desk in the back, while his cards and dice are kept on the main table in the middle of the room. Meanwhile, his locker has his books shoved awkwardly into the bottom, while his divination tools are all lumped together on the top and have no separation or organization. The locker's state even leads Makoto to say that its owner "probably has organization problems in every part of their life". This may suggest that his room is clean for the sake of potential customers, or just that the lack of space in the locker was inconvenient.

Part 8- Late Game Events

When chapter 5 opens, Hiro's 'dumb guy' shenanigans are cranked up to the max. While everyone's investigating the 5th floor, talking to Hiro in the garden reveals his conspiracy theory on the inevitable global domination of the world by plants. He also gets excited about the 5 chickens, claiming the number 5 to "contain the mysteries of the cosmos" and says it's a good omen.

When he tells the rest of the survivors about the garden, he decides he wants to use the lawnmower to create crop circles, as a signal for help. What he fails to realize is that there are no crops in the school, and that no one would be able to see them from above if there were. It's this moment that Hina points out how ridiculous he's getting:

"What the heck's happened to you...? You weren't like this in the beginning, you know." "Well back then my personality hadn't quite solidified yet...!" "I didn't think it was possible, but I'm more disappointed in you now than I've ever been..."

This suggests Hiro's characterization, from the ground up, was designed to be laughed at. (That's a surprise tool that will help us later.)

When the other survivors decide to dismantle Monokuma, Hiro is the one who actually undergoes the process of dismantling and opening him up, with the only one we see helping with the parts to be Toko. This puts him directly under fire if Monokuma wakes up and decides to punish the perpetrator. It's safe to assume this is why he and Toko were chosen by Byakuya to do the actual dismantling. He also goes on to be the one to get the TV working in the data center, suggesting some level of proficiency with technology that's never explored again.

When the 5th trial begins, Hiro's panicking, insisting that Kyoko is a ghost("she's like the latest evolution in ghost technology!") and has to be corrected before the actual trial can start.

When the final investigation begins, and Kyoko, Byakuya, and Toko have all gone off on their own, Hiro decides he's going to go off on his own as well, declaring he's going to use his "totally awesome spirit power to figure out the mastermind's identity!" This declaration goes nowhere, as he's the only survivor you don't need to talk to before Monokuma's clue, and his only dialogue before the trial is him avoiding you. This 'totally awesome spirit power' is never used in the final trial, either.

When the final trial begins, Hiro is the first to make the accusation Monokuma wanted- that he was the only innocent one, and that everyone else was working together. But when Hina and Byakuya piggyback off of him, he's the first to realize that they've all been given the same evidence. Simultaneously, somehow, he's the last one to realize the evidence is fake("Wh-what? Wait, hold on... This doesn't make any sense... How can the three of us each have that kind of evidence!?")

When Junko reveals the truth to everyone, he's the first to beg for mercy. He's brought to despair- "We get it... We get it, okay? You're totally awesome, right? We get it already! So help us! I'll do anything! Just help me!" "A peasant begging for his life? How delightful! We've never witnessed such a travesty firsthand..." But when Makoto fights back, he's also the first one to embrace hope(assuming you shoot the characters in the order they appear):

"But to live means moving forward, right...? So even if it's hard... even if we're scared... we don't have any choice, do we? I want to keep on living! I want to open the next door! There must be something new waiting for me! So that's why... That's why...! No matter what, I need to get out of here! The whole fortune-telling thing doesn't matter anymore! What matters is my own gut feelings! I... I've decided to have faith in myself!"

He, along with the other survivors, votes for hope. Junko is executed, and the seven of them leave together.

Part 9- Ultra Despair Hagakure (yes we have to talk about this)

TW: discussion of pedophilia and incest. Skip to part 9 if you need to(5 paragraphs down).

Ultra Despair Hagakure, or UDH, is the spinoff-spinoff LN unlocked by completing "spinoff" game Ultra Despair Girls. It follows Yasuhiro Hagakure in Towa City as he's saved by former captive Kanon Nakajima, and the two of them try to survive the Monokumas and find a way to escape. The novel's state of canon is unclear, but it doesn't directly contradict anything in the main series continuity in terms of plot progression.

The problem with UDH (well, for Hiro anyway. Kanon is a whole other can of worms for the Leonalysis) is that UDH establishes Hiro as a pedophile. Kanon is 15, and says as much in her internal dialogue, but Hiro(who introduces himself as mid-20s) spends the LN being attracted to her, and that attraction combined with his money-hunger pushes him to stick with her, hoping to squeeze money out of her rich father upon their escape. He describes her as 'the type to have a baby by 21', and there are multiple instances of him being turned on by her, either while she's fighting the Monokumas or when she ends up physically leaned against him. All around, it's just a really unfortunate choice they made for his character that serves nothing to the main plot besides acting as a way to emphasize how cute Kanon is. Why did they choose to have Hiro act in this way towards Kanon? Simple: UDH is a fetish novel.

UDH adds no significant development to the worldbuilding or its pre-established characters, with two exceptions- Hiro, and Leon. Both become victims of immoral fetish content, though Leon at least gets the shield of plausible deniability from an unreliable narrator. Hiro doesn't get that since we see his first-person perspective. The plot of UDH is structured around Kanon, despite its being named after Hiro, and centers on her feelings of lust and desire for a relationship, using the setting of UDG as a backdrop. Hiro is an older man than Kanon, and Leon is Kanon's cousin. Both of these characters had their names and base personalities recycled to act as her love interests, as an excuse to write fetish content. It's as simple as that. And Hiro in particular suffers because he's the living and present man of the two, so to make the content, he's given perverted, sexual thoughts about Kanon, a 15 year old girl, as a grown adult in his 20s, not because it's something Hiro would've done, but because it's part of the older-guy fetish. It's unnecessary for his character, and doesn't appear at all in the next and final appearance he has in the series, nor does it ever come up outside of this LN.

UDH is a dark spot on the history of Yasuhiro Hagakure, and one of dubious canon at that. But it's still important to acknowledge that was written and released as official content within the DR franchise, and therefore, must be part of this character dissection. Ultimately, I've come to the conclusion that, due to the entire LN being primarily fetish content, it can't in good conscience be held up as part of Yasuhiro's own character. However, it is reflective of Kodaka's lack of care in the treatment of Yasuhiro Hagakure as a character.

Part 10- Danganronpa 3: Future Arc

Hiro, alongside Makoto, Kyoko, and Hina, are brought back as part of the lineup for DR3's Future Arc, participating in a new killing game with 12 new characters.

10.1- Character Design Pt 2

Hiro's design is updated to his Future Foundation uniform, with his pant sleeves rolled up, his blazer over his shoulders, and a bright blue tie. His locs are now pulled back, he's wearing thin-wire glasses, and he's pictured holding his crystal ball(though again, it breaks in the 1st episode).

10.2- Hiro's Subplot

In the first episode of the Future Arc, Hiro's left out of the meeting by the others and told to wait outside. He's then left out of the killing game and locked outside the building by accident when the exits are blown up, and left to fend for himself in occasional clips for over half of the season until Byakuya shows up to break into the building.

His only role in the anime is an occasional cutaway to him wondering what's going on inside, only to be shot at by a helicopter with a machine gun and barely survive unscathed. The anime straight up tells the audience the reason for this in one of the opening recaps:

He's the only survivor from THH not to play a significant role as well, as Makoto, Kyoko, and Hina are active in the kg, Byakuya is the one to lead the rescue effort, and Toko and Jack get a dedicated episode in Towa City with Komaru to hunt down Monaca. All this to say, his occasional bit of barely surviving is all he gets in comparison, which isn't much.

10.3- Byakuya Togami

As the only character Hiro has significant interaction with in the season, the relationship between Hiro and Byakuya is mildly expanded upon. Once Byakuya arrives, Hiro immediately falls in line beside him, following orders to lay explosives and try to break into the building, complaining all the while as Byakuya watches and directs him. It's all reminiscent of their relationship at the endgame of THH; however, Byakuya appears to be more fond of Hiro at this point, stopping him from triggering the trap in the lobby and keeping him out of danger at his own risk. In that vein of logic, Hiro being told to stay outside by not only Byakuya, but also Makoto, Hina, and Kyoko wasn't because 'no one likes him', it was because of genuine concern that he'd get caught up in something that wasn't his fault. It was because they liked him that he was safe.

Part 11- Racism in Danganronpa

As we've seen, Hiro is a character without much of a story to talk about. He's got his bit moments, and a banterous dynamic with the other survivors from THH, but even in his own novel, he doesn't have his own plot to speak of, nor does he ever receive any significant character growth in 8 years of DR history by real-world years. He is wholly a gag character, meant to be messy, stupid, and altogether unimportant in comparison to the rest of the cast. And to call this anything other than flat-out racism would be flat-out ignorance.

First off, in a series with over 100 characters, Hiro is one of 3-4 characters who are canonically dark-skinned(I can't remember if Akane was dark-skinned or is in "it's just a tan" club with Hina, Sakura, Teruteru, and Gonta). Of those, he's one of two black men, and the other is a racist caricature whose sole purpose is to die in demonstration of a 'game mechanic'(Daisaku Bandai). So already, we can clearly see that black men, as well as any other dark-skinned characters, aren't prioritized in DR's narrative.

When it comes to Hiro specifically, though, the specifics of his character- his design, his backstory, and the perception the other characters have of him- all at least partially stem from blatantly racist stereotypes. It's not just a matter of lack of rep, it's a matter of stereotypical and often outright offensive representation.

Scroll back up to see Hiro's THH design again. He's dressed in multiple layers, making him look 'grungy', like he doesn't care about his appearance, and he's the only dark-skinned character to have a black hairstyle throughout the entire series. There's a point in the game where, if you choose to speak to him in a group setting, Genocide Jill refers to him as "Afro Thunder" as a derogatory remark. Even from a character that gives everyone nicknames, this is clearly racism, as the other nicknames are plays on the characters' names ('Big Mac' for Makoto, 'Tick Tock' for Taka, etc).

While the details of Hiro's backstory aren't fully expanded upon, we do have enough information from his mother, Hiroko, and some of his dialogue in THH to have enough of an idea. Hiroko was a teen mother, and considering Hiro is in his mid-20s(23 at the youngest) while Hiroko is around 36 during the events of UDG according to the UDG artbook, that would mean she had him at age 13, at the oldest. In addition, Hiroko isn't dark-skinned, meaning that either Hiro got his color solely from his father, or his mother was biracial and just didn't get those genes. In addition, we know that his father wasn't around for most of his life, as he left Hiroko for an unspecified act she 'let go on too long,' which implies infidelity. We do know his dad was around long enough for Hiro to remember him, though, as he's able to recall an instance where his father burned their house down due to smoking in bed. Now, this may be on me, but the implication all this seems to suggest is that his father, who would've been black, left his family and left the teen mother to raise Hiro on her own, and that the one depiction we receive of him paints him as irresponsible for causing a house fire. It's not expressly canon, but it's the implication the given information leaves for the player, and is eerily similar to the stereotype that black men are irresponsible and absent fathers that knock up younger women.

Throughout all of THH, Hiro is perceived as stupid. Just about every character that interacts with Hiro calls him an idiot at least once, and he's repeatedly portrayed as not understanding what's going on around him. The only character that's ever less aware than he is at any given time is Genocide Jack or Toko, and that's because the two don't share memories. In chapter 3, his supposed idiocy is emphasized as the reason Celeste targeted and pinned a double-murder on him, and how she was able to get away with framing him for so long. Almost everyone agreed with her that Hiro's idiocy explained away the flaws in logic from his perspective as a killer. Byakuya even says as such("He probably thought that if nobody saw his face, it wouldn't matter if he was seen. Because he's an idiot, you see."). He falls for every little lie Monokuma drops over the course of the game, to the point where he contradicts himself at the start of the final trial. There's a moment in chapter 5 where Hina goes on about how stupid he is, and asks him what 10+10 is. It offends him to the point he forgets what question she asked, and when he asks her to repeat herself, she just says "Don't worry. You've already answered it." Even Makoto, the POV character who we're meant to project ourselves as player onto, goes on about how stupid and disorganized he is at multiple instances when talking to him. Not only do the other characters perceive him as stupid, but the game wants you as player to perceive him as stupid, too, at the detriment of his own characterization as a successful and sleazy businessman who's made millions. Stupid, disorganized idiots who spend $1M on a glass ball aren't normally charismatic and clever enough to be making that much at such a young age from the ground up.

And maybe, maybe, if Hiro were the only instance where a dark-skinned character were subject to this volume of stereotypes, and the rest of the dark-skinned characters were all excellently developed and unique and well, not written consistently with racist tropes, then you could try to make the argument that this was by mistake. That it wasn't fully intentional, or that the creator was just trying to make a variety of characters, whatever. But every single dark-skinned (or tanned) character in the series suffers from some kind of racist trope. If it's not this, or being a blatant caricature like Bandai, it's being a monster brute who's viewed as an inhuman monster(Sakura, Gonta), it's being an islander cultist who follows some indigenous violent god(Angie), etc. The racism within Danganronpa's dark-skinned characters is inherently a part of their characters, to the point where you cannot separate the sins of the author from the character. Yasuhiro Hagakure is a byproduct of racism, and it holds him back as a character from being expanded upon outside of what the stereotype allows so long as he's written by his creators.

Part 12- Fortune Telling Does Matter (Why we should care)

We've now thoroughly dissected Yasuhiro Hagakure and his role, or often lqack thereof, in the story. He's a gag character built on racist tropes that the creator didn't give a fuck about, and was lent out for a fetish piece. He's an idiot, a useless guy whose own creator built to be pointed at and laughed at. Why should anyone care about Hiro? The answer comes in the epilogue of THH, from Hiro himself:

"...Ah! I get it now! If there's no road, you just gotta build one! Creation... Fate is telling me to remake the world! That's... my hope! I've reached the next stage! The next chapter of Yasuhiro Hagakure's Life Story is about to begin!"

'If there's no road, you just gotta build one.' Hiro was made with racism, yes, and went underused in the source material, but that doesn't mean that was all there was to his character. If you dig into the work, you'll find a passionate man that cares deeply for his interest in the unknown, someone who researches and collects artifacts in his free time, and who genuinely believes in his clairvoyance, and used that passion and belief to build a career and life for himself. The pieces are in place for his story to continue, and if the source material won't do it, then well, can't we? Danganronpa is known for its love and attention to detail of its characters. Each and every character is designed with the potential to become the protagonist of their own story. That includes Hiro. He does have the potential to rise past the source material in the right hands, and those could be your hands. Who's to say? Maybe there's some unwritten genius hidden within that next chapter. That's the beauty of fanwork; untapped potential can become a fan favorite if you know where to look.

Afterword

"Hey guys, Sayakanalysis is taking a while, I want an easy one next." Well look how that turned out. This shit was NOT easy, not by a long shot. I've come to the conclusion that there is no easy character to analyze in this godforsaken series

That said, I am happy with how this turned out. Even if Hiro is a bit all over the place, I genuinely like him a lot more now! There's actually a lot of fun to be had with his character if you're willing to look deeper into him; that's what I want people to take away from this

Anyways, it'll probably be a nice long wait for the next one because uh. Junko is next. And V3 is basically the only time she doesn't show up soooooooo hope you enjoyed catch ya later

[variouslengthsofwire]

History will judge you

No matter what you do, values will change in the future. You are a product of your time just like everyone else always has been and always will be. You do not magically know the values people will have in the future just like people 100 years ago couldn't have predicted our values today.

"I know what I'm doing is right" yes by your values today. Everyone thinks what they're doing is right, and it often is by some framework within their own time. Doing what you believe is right is generally a good thing to do.

"I know I'm on the right side of history because I'm working to reduce suffering and harm to a marginalized group." But how are you doing this? Are you unnecessarily advocating for increasing harm to another group? Is what you're doing actually helping?

In the future, people might be viewing it through a different lens, and the good guys vs bad guys narrative might be reversed or might not exist anymore. It might look more like harming one group because another told you to. Or it might look like something we can't even imagine, just like how people in the 16th century couldn't imagine how we'd view them from the 21st century. People in the future might just be viewing it with hindsight and know about unintended consequences that we don't know yet, like how we view prohibitionists.

The future isn't a static thing, either. No one time period is a monolith. There are people on this website who view the American Civil War from completely different angles, much less how it was viewed in the 1880s vs now vs 300 years from now. Individuals change how they view the same event as they learn more and as life experiences change them. History isn't one thing.

There is no point to doing anything to be on "the right side of history." Do things because you think they are right at the moment. And if someone tells you that how you are going about your fight is causing harm, then consider what they're saying. Just because you're doing something for the right reasons doesn't mean everything you do is right.

[verdantcreek]

thinking about the reboot mw games collectively and it’s so sadly unfortunate because like. when put up against the other two, mwiii fails so visibly.

first of all you’ve got their thesis/emotional core, right. for mw19, it’s all about the personal motivation of being a solider, the cost of war on an individual. what it means to fight and discovering the importance of what you’re fighting for. for mwii, it’s about trust. the importance of knowing that your team has each others backs, the weight that it has between individuals. what happens when that trust is broken and how it’s found again through vulnerability, because that’s how you truly know you’re there for each other.

and then there’s mwiii..? you should let your sergeant kill a prisoner illegally so said prisoner, when he breaks out of maximum security prison, doesn’t kill your sergeant 4 years later? you should illegally kill people who piss you off (shepherd)? sure there’s the whole “never bury your enemies alive”, but where does that come in to play outside of the soap/makarov interaction? it’s definitely not a valid reason for price to kill an american general in his own office. they could’ve used it for graves if they wanted to take it a step further, but no— graves doesn’t betray the team again, for whatever reason. we’re expected to consider him just a much a member of the team as anyone else, and the narrative treats him as such outside of a few bristly reactions to his involvement.

secondly i take a huge issue with how characters were handled in mwiii. literally everyone is here, and there is no reason for several of them to be. alex felt like a cameo— you see him actually on screen for maybe 30 seconds. farah’s missions feel forced for the sake of her involvement. not that farah shouldn’t be in this game, but makarov’s flimsy reasoning for targeting the ulf is so clearly an excuse to involve her. it feels very random and transparent as a decision to reuse her character because she’s familiar. again with graves— why is he here? i still genuinely do not understand why they decided to retcon his death. it was a perfect arc for mwii to kill him, and him being alive adds absolutely nothing to the story. he has nothing to do in mwiii and there is zero reason for his involvement other than “people liked him in mwii and he has a cool accent.”

within the 141, it’s mostly rehashing of the growth/personality that each of them showed in previous games. none of them have an arc, except maybe price if you’re willing to call the *post credit scene* where he commits cold blooded murder a completion of an arc. gaz, soap, and ghost are static versions of themselves that simply are just … there for most of the plot. they’re not out of character or ruined, but none of them individually have anything going on that can’t be tied back to price.

i think a lot of it comes down to the way they tried to shoehorn mwiii into the original trilogy’s storyline. people loved those games, and nostalgia sells. i don’t think it’s a coincidence that makarov was a big marketing factor for this game— and that’s not to say that mw19 or mwii didn’t abuse that either, but in execution you can feel the difference. price, gaz, soap and ghost are all their own characters miles away from their original trilogy counterparts. makarov… isn’t. he’s a poorly written villain riding on the success of the original trilogy— he’s scary because he’s *makarov*, not because he’s a real threat. it’s cheap. the knockoff “no russian” mission felt insulting. it’s a callback with no real impact in the story, just simply “look! remember when we did this in 2009 and everyone loved it?”

and all of it culminates into a shit ending with shock factor that it tries to make you feel emotional. i’m not sad over this character death. i’m mad, because it’s unearned and lazy. i realize it’s a lot to ask a multi-billion dollar corporation to actually put effort into their stories, but… it’s such a let down when the previous games actually had at least an ounce of passion. i’m just still so disappointed with this game ruining what could’ve been a really interesting and unique story.

[mswyrr]

They presented the possibility of older women--who were repeatedly described as "covenless witches" in a story that also repeatedly told us a witch needs a coven--finding community again and a new reason to live in each other and their own power and then "subverted our expectations" with these women dying to serve a male character's story.

That was the point of their stories. Him.

It isn't common for older women in US pop culture to get depicted as people who are capable of rebirth. Of lives, desires, hopes and dreams that matter beyond solely being a mother. It rarely happens, and it didn't happen here.

It's rare for stories to deal metaphorically with real things - like women who get clean or make positive change in their 40s or 50s. Women who find each other and aren't alone and "forgotten" anymore. These things happen -- yes, sisterhood is sometimes a lie and sometimes "people never change." Sure, those things happen. But sometimes sisterhood isn't a lie; sometimes people make change in their lives.

You don't see these stories when they're women though, especially not older women, especially not gay women.

I'm glad for Jen. She doesn't have a community, though. A witch needs a coven they told us, over and over again. They showed us them getting one small taste of the joy they could share together, in their scene of flight. But that was just for Billy too. And now everyone else is dead. To serve the male character's journey, give him some angst.

Agatha is forever spiritually dead--not experiencing any kind of emotional breakthrough or change--because she's not the lead, so she's static so she can serve as a device within the true lead's journey.

She can't even be allowed the growth I pictured as the worst case scenario - where she dies for *the coven*--so they can live and have community and spiritual rebirth together--and makes enough peace to go with Rio. She doesn't even get that much, to get to have a real death that matters and has a sense of completion to it, where we can imagine her reunited with her child and/or at peace with Rio. She can't have that because she has to be Billy's amusing sidekick, his Jarvis, his moral warning lesson about his powers and the witches he got killed and his angst. Because his story matters and theirs didn't.

I was talking to a friend the other day about how love stories often have a "point of symbolic death, when all hope seems lost" (concept from Pamela Regis's study of romance novel structure) and with mf couples they get to rise again from that, into rebirth, into new life. Ff canon couples in stories often, due to a bunch of reasons, aren't allowed that narrative power. They remain trapped in tragedy and despair. I thought surely Agatha herself though, as the lead character, would get to have some kind of change or rebirth as part of a community of women, given that her core wound is betrayal by community -- but she, as a character, doesn't get to go into the symbolic underworld and change and be reborn, because she was never the lead character to begin with.

Sapphic love remains broken once it breaks, the "point of symbolic death" is literal death or a shattering end, there is no rebirth. We, I guess, lack the symbolic potency to come back, in the eyes of the world? We are not generative. "Which one's the man?" "How do they even have sex?" "Your marriage isn't real because you can't make babies." (Kudos for subverting that one, though, show! Except... a child born of women, without a man, cannot live a full life I guess?) And specifically, as a 30something queer woman, people who call my wife, after I've described her as my wife, my "girlfriend" and are shocked by how long we've been together. That we're grown women and our commitment is right down to the bone, that it has blood in its veins. We are not little girls playing dress up. But that is how a ton of nice people see us; we exist but we are spiritually empty, lacking potency. And the stories reflect that. That energy, that core belief that we are the juvenile, non-generative form of love and relationships. And this woman too, she remains in a kind of eternal spiritual death.

That's why people are mentioning the Hayes Code, they're feeling how that aligns with larger cultural prejudice against us and our humanity and capacity to have the kind of power of living and loving that is ascribed to mf love and that more (though not always, misogyny is a hell of a thing) straight women get in stories.

The idea that it's GOOD for a story to do this, because "sometimes sisterhood is a lie" and "sometimes people don't change" ignores that context of who precisely this narrative "subversion," this spiritual aridity is given to. And who gets to live and grow and be reborn and strive and learn and become in stories, to be allowed to connect with the transformative potential inside themselves and each other.

The show did give us a lot -- I think it's important to recognize that. The canon ff love; I would have never expected that. The canon kiss. They put a lot into that and I honor that. This wasn't a classic "bury your gays" and I'm not mad at them. They did their best. A lot of the issues I have are probably due to the problems of the mcu overall and how static it is. But the deeper themes are also just incredibly disappointing to me, and I wanted to outline why.

It's entirely possible to be disappointed but appreciate context and not be unkind to creatives who did their best within overall industry/cultural limitations, which is where I am at and what I mean with this.

[chaos0pikachu]

Cinematography?? In MY BL??? Not as likely as you think.

TLDR: it's a joke!!! but also legit sometimes I see "cinematography in bl" and it's just some basic pictures with mid-tone lighting and blue t-shirts. Let's talk film terms like: aperture, panning, tilting, and movement in film so we can see what goes into cinematography (with sources!). Also if I name a show you like as "boring cinematography" don't send me hate mail I'll laugh

(examples used: Our Skyy2 vs kinnporsche, 2gether vs semantic error, 1000 Stars vs The Sign)

If I name a show you like in this post as "bad cinematography" be chill about it, like, I ain't saying you can't like it, I'm just talking about techniques here not personal likability or overall show quality. I like badly filmed shit too say hello to my collection of Friday the 13th Blue Rays we're just here to talk techniques and like, educational stuff okay?

So the straight (heh) textbook definition of "cinematography" is: the art of making motion pictures. Which, frankly, tells you nothing. Like it's not wrong~~ but it's not informative either. Cinematography covers a lot of what we, the audience, visually see on screen:

"Cinematography is the art of photography and visual storytelling in a motion picture or television show. Cinematography comprises all on-screen visual elements, including lighting, framing, composition, camera motion, camera angles, film selection, lens choices, depth of field, zoom, focus, color, exposure, and filtration." (source)

So let's talk movement in film.

So when I talk about movement, what do I mean? I mean the way the camera, the characters, and the environment moves within a frame.

This video on Akira Kurosawa's usage of movement in a scene is brilliant:

Something as simple as having rain or fire in the background of a shot can enhance the emotions of a scene vastly. it gives the scene depth - literal depth, not narrative depth - that would otherwise be missing.

The way the camera moves and transitions leading the viewers eye back and forth makes what you're watching more engaging. You aren't consuming these scenes, you are engaging with them. They are apart of the story itself, giving the environment life and texture so the characters within them matter more.

And, look, I get busting out Thee Akira Kurosawa might be unfair, but if we're gonna talk cinematography we can't not talk the importance of movement on film.

To understand good cinematography you have to understand what makes it good and as such what makes bad or mediocre cinematography.

In connection with movement we gotta talk about camera techniques like panning and tilting:

"Camera movements are a fundamental part of video production. They can be a powerful storytelling device, heightening tension, evoking emotions, and bringing the viewer into the action. Without saying a word, camera movements can transform a scene’s entire narrative, and direct audiences’ attention where you want it." (source)

So we have movement of environment, of characters, and we also have movement of the camera itself.

Ok so like, where does the BL come in Pikachu??

I'm getting to that, I'm going to start with a more general example: Our Skyy 2 (Bad Buddy meets 1000 Stars edition) vs Kinnporsche.

Starting at 5:17 we have Pran stranded or whatever, and this shot is like, it's fine. It's boring as hell, but fine. Why is it boring as hell? Well it's flat, it lacks movement, it lacks depth.

When the driver drove off the camera could have panned to follow his movement and then panned back to Pran at a different angle to showcase his isolation. Honestly since the scene starts with a mid close up of Pran, I would have had the camera behind Pran as the driver drove away, and had the camera pan around Pran 360 so we get shots of his environment, and him, while also emphasizing holy shit he's like, fucking stuck in the wilderness. 

In general, there's a big lack of movement in the scene. The camera remains almost entirely static, there's no attempt at zooming in or out, following Pran's movement, or showcasing his environment in any meaningful way. Even when Pran begins walking towards the camera the angle of the framing is still centered, rather than tilted downward or upwards to give us more dimension (non-BL comparison, the Book of Eli starring Denzel Washington does the "walking towards the camera" shots really well).

We get a cut of a medium close up of Pran, with a deeper focus so his environment is blurred out.

I understand the thought process of this shot, we want the audience to focus on Pran, but if the point of the scene is to emphasize he's alone, confused, maybe even a bit anxious at his new circumstances it could've been done better. Take a wider shot from this angle, open up the lens to allow for that background environment to come through and show him isolated. Maybe do a pan above him or tilt the camera up going from his feet up as he nervously ruffles his hair. There's options here.

This just adds more walking to the scene, which we already had. It doesn't enhance or emphasize anything about Pran's emotions as a character.

Anyway the camera continues to follow him and then we get another cut. And it's from the same angle as before, only this time we see a truck coming. The camera remains static, it completely stops moving, and we just wait for the truck to drive into the frame.

This whole sequence of events ends at 5:57 and while not a long sequence I find it frustrating because it's boring. The only way the audience knows that Pran is anxious is via Nanon’s acting, there’s nothing in the filmmaking that enhances or contributes to that feeling.

He’s alone, until he’s not, and that’s all the scene tells us. It leaves the scene lacking any tension as well, because we’re not getting a sense of isolation - how large is this space? How alone is Pran right now? What is the entirety of the environment? 

Contrast this with a similar scene in kinnporsche ep06 where Kinn and Porsche are alone in the mountains. I don't have a video of this specific scene so I have to link the trailer, starting at 1:48 to 1:52, but see how we start mid-close up of Kinn and Porsche, then pan out from above them? This is a better showcasing of just how vast the environment around Kinn and Porsche are.

They're still center frame throughout all of this, the depth of the scene is in mid-focus so nothing is blurred out and you can see the sharpness of the environment.

It also places the audience in the same space as Kinn, who is looking up at the sky while the audience looks down at him. It makes the audience a more active participant in the shot, emphasizes the state of the characters, gives the audience a sense of space & environment, and relies a sense of emotion.

The additional fast zoom out also adds to the scene by adding movement and making it more dynamic.

(my man pran looking like this 🧍)

Both these scenes are pretty short, but they're relaying similar information and one is way more dynamic and effective than the other. Both Pran and Kinn/Porsche are alone in the wildness, but in the latter there's a lack of space, a lack of movement, and a lack dimension. This is mainly a framing issue, so let's talk more about camera movement (panning, & tilting).

Here's a scene from 2gether vs a scene from Semantic Error.

(saw someone say 2gether had a high production value and chepie where??)

This entire scene with Sarawat and Tine is flatly shot. There is nothing in their background so no outward movement is happening, the lighting is even as are the colors, everything is at the same depth, and there's little to no motion in the camera.

The scene with Sarawat pushing Tine into frame. Why doesn't the camera follow Tine's motion of movement so the scene has more momentum? It just stops and the char falls out of frame before walking back into it. Then we get a series of cuts back and forth of close ups on Sarawat and Tine's faces. Back and forth, back and forth.

The editing leaves a ton to be deserved because if the back and forth did a quick pan back and forth with each beat we could build up tension, give the scene some texture, heighten the intensity of the argument. If we're going for something softer we could place them in on better set, or make the characters move themselves - have Sarawat walk away from the argument up those stairs, have the camera follow his movement as Tine chases him continuing the argument - or play with the lighting a bit, pan the camera down or tilt it something!

When Tine kisses Sarawat why doesn't the camera move with him in a more notable way? Why did we have a cut to a close up? And then we're back in a mid close up and more cuts and this editor is killing me!

This scene is 4mins long and the only engaging bit of filmmaking here is when the camera follows Tine when he steps closer to Sarawat putting the latter in the frame at 3:15, the entire scene is 4 minutes long.

I want to compare this scene to this scene in Semantic Error which is also all dialogue and also obviously filmed on a shoestring budget.

So right away the camera work here is smart, it starts off in an establishing shot, evenly lit, of Sang Woo and Jae Young both in the frame. Then we get a mid close up of JY looking down, then a tight close up of JY looking up.

The change in camera angle emphasizes his surprise at seeing SW here as he looks up at SW. The lighting has also changed, it's much brighter now. The camera also begins to move, where it was static before it begins to tilt and shift.

We get a cut to SW, the first one of this scene. JY is seeing SW in a new light for the first time, and as such so is the audience. By starting the scene off in an outward shot with both chars in the frame, they are placed on the same level and the audience doesn't see their expressions up close. So when we're hit with JY's close up of surprise and then SW's close up of his wet hair it holds way more impact. It enhances the feelings of JY's character for the audience.

The lighting behind SW has also changed, it's much brighter, and warmer compared to the cooler tones of light behind JY. The camera also slows, and continues to to tilt and shift. JY's world has literally been shifted on his axis.

We get another cut, this time medium on SW and notice, the camera stops moving for that moment and the light around him dims. It's not as saturated. We're moved out of JY's pov here and back into "regular" framing.

SW tries to make JY leave, we get a close up cut of the cut on JY's arm - hey editing used to display important and new information! - then the camera cuts to SW getting medicine and here's a small but important thing, when he tosses at JY the camera follows his movement. And instead of cutting away, when JY gets up thinking SW is hurt, the camera follows JY's movement back towards SW.

It would have been easy to make a cut there back and forth - like in the 2gether scene did over and over - but following the movement of the characters makes the scene way more interesting visually to watch.

Changing the angles of the camera from a lower angle (where JY is looking up) to a downward angle (where SW is looking down) makes the scene more interesting visually as well and enhances the storybeat of JY looking up at SW in a new light memorized. This contributes to the story as well, as it's JY who catches feelings for SW first so their are literally, on uneven ground until they're not later in the story. The camera is panning, tilting, moving with the characters even given the limited space. The lighting adds to the effectiveness, as do the minimal cuts.

On a technical level, the scene in Semantic Error is just better filmed. In my own opinion, the scene is far more engaging b/c the filmmaking is better, where in 2gether the reliance is almost completely on the actors to sell the scene with little help. And I'm not saying nothing about Bright and Win cause their stans wildin'.

Next, I wanna talk about aperture.

I saw a post that used this word and I didn't understand the context in which they were using it because aperture isn't a style of filmmaking its a camera setting or lens adjustment - it's the rate at which the camera opens and closes letting in light and focus.

"Aperture is the opening of the lens through which light passes. When you hit the shutter release button to take the picture, the camera aperture opens to the predetermined width, letting a specific amount of light through. A large aperture lets more light in, and vice versa. Aperture is calibrated in f/stops, written in numbers like 1.4, 2, 2.8, 4, 5.6, 8, 11 and 16. The larger the number, the narrower the aperture." (source) <- really recommend this article if you want to learn about aperture in film.

A great non-BL example of aperture used for style is One Piece Live Action where cinematographers Nicole Hirsch Whitaker, and Michael Wood love using deep focus aperture in a lot of scenes.

But let's compare The Sign vs 1000 Stars.

So when the scene starts, we're in mid-focus/aperture, everything is of similar sharpness and depth. Nothing is especially blurred out we're getting the full spectrum of Phaya and Tharn's environment.

When the camera switches to close ups of Phaya and Tharn however, we get a deep focus aperture. That's why everything behind them is so blurred out. In a close up of Phaya, even Tharn's face is blurred. The director wants the audience to focus specifically on these characters individually, so we can understand the weight of their dialogue. But when the camera wants us to see the characters as a unit, it cuts, pulls back out of that deep focus and everything is back in mid-focus again.

Here's another thing, it's subtle but it's important.

This scene also combines what we already discussed about movement. At :08 of the scene, in that first mid-shot the camera is actually zooming in closer on Phaya and Tharn. Not dramatically, subtly, but it is there. This is important, because at 3:23 we get another mid-shot of them, pulled out of that deep focus, and the camera begins to zoom out.

The camera also follows the movement of Phaya grabbing Tharn's hands, then pans back up to Phaya's face once again before panning higher into the frame and panning back to their faces and zooming in.

When we move back out of that deep focus, into a mid-shot the camera continues to zoom out on the two characters as they kiss.

I saw someone say that this scene wasn't "filmed like BL kisses" and, eh? Like it isn't filmed in that static style of filmmaking which has dominated BL filmmaking probably due to budgetary reasons. But

The Sign follows a similar filmmaking style as Kinnporsche and Domundi shows do. But also just like, basic filmmaking techniques you'd see in shows of the non-CW/soap variety.

The thing fans are seeing here is film technique (probably partially due to a larger budget). Movement, lens adjustment, panning and titling, lighting and color are all playing a role in this specific scene.

Cinematography baby.

(sidenote the VFX of The Sign is dope as fuck too)

Okay so let's talk Our Skyy 1000 Stars

So this opening scene follows a similar structure to the scene in The Sign: mid focus shot of the two chars, into separate deep focus close ups. It's also a dialogue heavy scene like the one with Phaya and Tharn.

So why does their scene work better on a technical level than this one in Our Skyy 2?

The scene in The Sign combines techniques of aperture, movement, lighting, color and framing to give everything more impact.

In this scene with Phupha and Tian we get a similar editing style as the scene in 2gether: lots of back and forth cuts, very tight close ups, static camera movement. Where as the camera zooms in and out during mid-shots, the camera doesn't move in Our Skyy 2. It remains motionless even though a zoom in as the two characters lay in bed would add a lot to the scene itself.

In the close ups the camera continues to remain static, only changing angles when there's a cut. At 1:22 Phupha moves his arm to wrap around Tian, the camera could have taken a closer shot at his arm, and then followed his movement as he wraps it around Tian. Like how the camera followed Phaya's movement when he holds Tharn's hand.

Instead it's just a flat shot, we see his arm wrap around in a mid-focus above shot. The camera does move to follow Tian a couple times - at 1:50 for example. But overall, the scene is stiff - who sleeps like this frfr - in framing, in movement, in depth.

I want to say that I don't think this scene is bad - like I do the 2gether scene or the earlier scene with Pran - I think it's just, okay~~

And no, for none of these examples did I pick "the worst" shots or whatever. I'm not out to get any specific show, but tried to find comparable scenes and compare and contrast the filmmaking techniques used in both and how effectively they were used.

I want to leave off with this.

There's a lot that goes into cinematography, yes this singular shot of Furiosa is amazing, but what makes the scene amazing?

Pay attention to how the camera moves (panning and tilting), when the camera moves (zooms in and out), the movement of the scene (the hair and sand moving), the lighting (Furiosa from behind is in darkness, her side profile more lit), the depth of the scene itself changing (as she walks away from the group the focus/aperture gets deeper on her, then when she walks out of the frame it grows larger to focus on the characters left behind).

All these little things make up what is "cinematography". The more you learn about the techniques used the more you can notice about film and what makes a scene powerful.

As BL gets more budget we're seeing shows expand their filmmaking catalogue more and more. Which is exciting! If fandom is gonna talk cinematography I think it's helpful to have the vocab to do so, and it's cool to watch a scene and be like "oh I see what they're doing here and why and how".

I mentioned other things that go into cinematography like framing, lighting, color, and there's also editing (which is separate). Idk if I'll make a post about those things cause I'm lazy and this shit takes forever to research and write but who knows~~

Check out other posts in the series:

Film Making? In My BL? - The Sign ep01 Edition | Aspect Ratio in Love for Love's Sake | Cinematography in My BL - Our Skyy2 vs kinnporsche, 2gether vs semantic error, 1000 Stars vs The Sign | How The Sign Uses CGI | Is BL Being Overly Influenced by Modern Western Romance Tropes?

[like these posts? drop me a couple pennies on ko-fi]

[bellshazes]

been thinking a lot about people's varied reactions to the chaos & perceived inconsistencies around the rules of limited life and because i taught games professionally for a decade and have done a lot of reading on games academically, I have a few propositions for the fandom to consider.

proposition one: Your interpretation of gameplay events is not the same as a monolithic "the narrative" to which all players are equally subject.

Narrative is not what happened, but the interpretation and meaning attached to the events that occurred. Narrative is when we "give experience a form and a meaning." (Harris-Miller)

This construction of narrative - giving meaning to experiences - can occur in the way a video is cut an edited, as well as in the audience's interpretation after the video is released.

Social play is player interaction, both in the derived from the structure and rules of the game (being "It" in tag) as well as the social roles brought from outside the game. (1)

In transformative social play, players use the game context to transform social relationships.

Most players in the life game are more concerned with narrative as it relates to transformative social play - such as, what does this event mean for me, my alliances, my enemies, and the shifting of roles along that spectrum?

Narrative within the game is dynamic and always changing in response to ongoing events and shifting relationships. Viewers' narratives about the games are more static since they exist outside the game context and are not a part of ongoing social play.

Letting go of a single unified "narrative" lets us think about the differences, tensions, and resonances between players' in-game construction of narrative, the narrative constructed by the player's video edit, and the retrospective audience construction of narrative. (*)

proposition two: Fairness is decided by the players, not the rules.

Playing a game requires trust and safety with the other players. (DeKoven) Even in tic-tac-toe you have to trust that your opponent will take reasonable amounts of time per turn before you sit down to play.

We can distinguish between ideal rules (rules as writ, such as a physical rulebook) and the real rules (the general consensus on what playing the game should look like). (2)

Real rules can include how sportsmanlike behavior is defined, and when "breaking" a rule doesn't count; a common example is forgiving a player who genuinely made a mistake on accident and did not intend to "break" the rules.

The real rules are what actually matter in developed gameplay, and they can be negotiated and constructed inside the game as new events, situations, and dynamics occur. (3)

Brushing past Scar's "illegal" kill on greens is not him getting away with breaking the rules, it's the group coming to a consensus on the real rules of the game. Cleo asking Impulse if her kill on him can count and him finally agreeing is not the breaking of (ideal) rules so much as it is defining the real rules.

proposition: Players' own individual motivations and definitions of sportsmanship or interesting play inform their contribution to the general consensus on real rules and leading them to play "imperfectly" in favor of having more fun or staying true to something.

Purely optimal play is boring to the players and viewers, and taken to an extreme allowed by the ideal rules, would violate the real rules implicitly agreed to by the players.

"Optimal" gameplay in the life series could look like hiding in a hole underground for the entire game if the end goal is to survive the longest, but that would make a boring video and would likely be considered supremely unsportsmanlike by other players and their audiences.

Playing perfectly optimally is one motive to play a game, but is basically never the sole motivator if it's one at all.

Even if everyone in the life series has a goal to "keep playing the game as long as possible," that could mean being focused on winning, or being focused on making allies or not making enemies, or it could compel you to give up your life for someone else who's running out of time because to you to play the game is to play together. (4)

Scar is a perfect example of someone who consistently chooses "non-optimal" goals such as always having the enchanter and goes to great and stupid lengths to achieve it even if it means sacrificing winning.

This "non-optimal" play provides something for other players to play off of and react to, often leading to transformative social play, significantly meaningful narrative, or interesting negotiations of real rules. (5)

synthesis: The most interesting narratives are born out of situations where players negotiate the real rules, not ones where the (ideal) rules are broken.

The life series is inherently highly experimental - even as more seasons build on the experiences of prior ones, the constant addition of new mechanics mean the game is more or less always being playtested rather than simply played.

The "rule" against carrying Third Life into Last Life failed because it is basically impossible to eliminate the out-of-game contributions to social play, especially in a social deduction game where knowledge of other players' habits and behaviors is useful metagame (6) currency that can't be un-learned.

Some of the series' most iconic narrative moments - the end of 3L or DL, he loves me, etc. are born out of the tension between ideal and real rules, where players are forced to take a stand or advocate for something opposed to the "ideal" rules such as allying with reds, sticking with your soulmate, or that there can only be one winner. (7)

I'm offering the above as a way of showing that I think these imperfections and changes between seasons are actually the coolest thing about them and have the potential for transformative fan works in addition to transformative play.

if limited life's copious tnt minecarts via skynet and highly-manual, inconsisent giving and taking of time for kills which may or may not be deserved according to strict interpretations of the rules as stated aren't to your taste, that's just how it is sometimes! It's understandable to not enjoy ideal rules that are loosely defined or interpreted or are imperfectly implemented from a mechanics perspective, but understanding that the players of the actual game did agree and consent and get to negotiate the consequences and meaning of these imperfections is not some unfortunate side-effect but in fact an important part of any gameplay.

The various types of narratives and the various motives for playing mean there can't be a single unified narrative for all players - but thinking about these things in terms of tensions and synergies opens doors for talking about the many narratives and the relationships between them. you can hold multiple seemingly-conflicting narratives as a viewer and put them in dialogue and produce new meaningful narratives in their contradictions or overlap! go forth and embrace the chaos and tension between the chains of context that produce meaning and the freedom to look at that complex web and derive fuller meanings from it!

because this post isn't long enough, more citations and examples from the series below the cut:

Some footnotes:

(1) Social roles within the game are more artificial than the ones that exist outside of it. That doesn't make them less meaningful, but when we consider the consequences of breaking a social role defined by the game compared to a real-world breaking of a promise or law, it's hard to forget the artificiality of the game. The consequences are relatively minor; the morality of betrayal, for instance, during a game can be acceptable because of that artificiality where it would be reprehensible in real life.

(2) A few different ways to think about game rules that are not mutually exclusive but complementary to each other:

Three layers of game rules: the underlying constituative rules of a game, the operational rules that directly guide player action, and the implicit rules of proper game behavior, such as etiquette.

Piaget's developmental stages from the Moral Development of Children are useful background here: the first stage is loose play without rules, second is strict adherence to ideal rules, and the final adult-leaning stage is the understanding that the real rules are what matter. You could call putting ideal rules over the real ones juvenile.

"Ideal rules refer to the "official" regulations of a game, the rules written in a player's guide to Zelda or printed on the inside cover of a game of Candyland. Real rules, on the other hand, are the codes and conventions held by a play community. Real rules are a consensus of how the game ought to be played." (Rules of Play)

(3) "It is not that the basic rules of the game undergo a radical change; rather, they are experienced within a social context that decreases their value in favor of a socially-biased ruleset over which players have more control."

(4) I'm thinking of Bdubs in Limited Life session 7 here, since he gives time and stays alive, but if you take this concept a little further and more broadly you just get players like Skizz.

(5) Metagaming, defined broadly for my purposes as the larger social context of the game and not just the pejorative, could be its own too-long post, but I think it's worth mentioning as an avenue for thinking about the complex dynamics of the life series as social play. For example, Etho consistently is thinking from a metagame perspective, from stalling by accusing Cleo of metagaming or remarking that Scar's lost the dramatic moment so he can't attack now in Last Life, or threatening to break roleplay in Limited Life when he's mad at Scar.

(6) From Rules of Play: "Sutton-Smith's model for player roles includes an actor, a counteractor, and an overall "motive" or format for play. For example, if the motive is capture, the actor's role is to take, while the role of the counteractor is to avoid being taken. [...] In Sutton-Smith's model, the roles of actor and counteractor are both equally important in constructing the experience of play." I don't think this model is sufficient on its own, but it's a worthwhile point that conflict is part of the game and is in fact desirable within certain bounds.

(7) Scott in LL is really interesting narratively because his motivation is at odds with what the game asks him to do: he is extremely true to his word and chooses to take the penalty of being knocked down to red rather than trying to kill someone and making an enemy of them and/or failing and dying anyway. He's not breaking any rules, but his choosing to experience consequences because of his own motivation and social relationships is compelling. It pays off when he wins, and it pays off again when Cleo can't bear to kill him in DL - the metagame element of past social play relationships and player knowledge of other players contributing to the current dynamics of social play.

ETA: An important point I also wanted to make but didn't have space for up top is that Jimmy being a "canary in a coal mine" as a result of always dying first is not some immutable truth about fate that actually influences his games, but if you can accept that it's not actually fated then you can start to think about and react to the way that the in-game players construct narratives in response to the actual events of him always permadying first. Joel's futile attempts to prevent this are a product of previous seasons' social play, the transformative current social dynamics, and his own player narrative (again, narrative as meaning giving form to experiences).

Also, I strongly disliked DL's premise and thought the best parts were the chosen soulmates precisely because I think predestination is best left to Calvinists and choice, especially in opposition to prescribed rules or narratives, is the most interesting thing in the world. Of course Etho and Bdubs in Last Life is what hooked me and I am also smug that the players tend to refer to the series as "last life" even if 3L came first and it's been two whole seasons since then.

(*) On meanings:

I think that meaning is necessarily the complex web of relationships between any given things, and there is no objective meaning to anything. Words and events have no meanings outside of our interpretations of and dialogue about them - this is not nihilism, but a beautiful gift of communicating with other people. A real deep dive into semiotics is beyond the scope of this post and also my own abilities, but it informs this view. I don't think you have to read academically to know it; you can find the proof in arguments about whether a pop tart is ravioli. A stupid argument, but one that is negotiating the boundaries of words' meanings by drawing on the words' relationships to other words and the things those words represent. It's the act of making meaning, not uncovering it. So too is watching the life series and arguing about or making arguments for a certain narrative angle or emphasizing a detail etc. - I just think it's a loss not to celebrate the complex web that tugs in many different directions with many different motives. It's less simple, but much richer.

[johannestevans]

Alien: Romulus: An Abortive Attempt at Homage to a Classic

Romulus started out promising, then proved itself an awful disappointment.

Review also on Cinemania.

The original Alien (1979) is far and away one of my favourite sci-fi films, one I’ve written about in the past, and I have a lot of affection for Aliens (1986) and even Alien 3 (1992), for all I feel it has its narrative flaws.

And then there are later additions to the original series; the less said about them, the better — later still, we see attempts at updating the series with sleek, shiny, lens-flared prequels and Michael Fassbender playing a mildly homophobic pastiche of a gay-coded eugenicist synth, these things replacing the original strong, complex writing in the original films.

I was honestly mildly into the premise of Alien: Romulus as a return to the original xenomorph rather than the Promethean nonsense, but that was all I knew about it going in — I went in with fresh eyes, having neither watched a trailer nor read any reviews.

In the first act of the film, there is an incredible return to the original aesthetics of Alien — without sacrificing the broader quality of set design, costuming, and film, there is an incredible recreation of not only the visuals originally displayed in 1979, but also the soundscape that accompanied those sets and mechanisms, and more than that, the haptics.

Every single button, dial, switch, and key in the original films looks as if you can reach out and touch it, and this incredible awareness of tactility is not only present in the machine and mechanic designs but in every other aspect of the set design. You can imagine how it might feel to touch everything in the film — feel the fuzz of static covering the screens in a sort of film, feel the trip of condensation on soaked engines, run your fingers over the texture of the walls, doors, grate floors, vents, even touch the aliens themselves. The slick, wet skin of the xenomorph, the slime slicking the segmented bodies of the facehuggers, the torn films of skin, the bubbling burn of their acidic blood — it all feels three-dimensional from the beginning, and that emphasis on the tactile and the textural is what makes the film so impactful.

It engages not just one’s emotional and mental state but all five of one’s senses, and in the beginning of Alien: Romulus, there is an attempt at recreating that physicality.

Not only are the original machines and their aesthetics replicated but there is a deep focus on tactility and certain sensory details in the mining colony our protagonist and her synth “brother” are trapped in — we see the gases and smokes and powders on the streets, see the machinery and all the trapped people working it, feel the cloying thickness of the polluted planet, see the near-literal sapping of colour from the whole of the planet by the miners.

The one tiny flicker of colour is, in fact, in the yellow canary in a modern cage, a fun little detail that emphasises how ancient the cruelty of the Weyland-Yutani Corporation is — just as each of the miners on the colony is trapped in an inescapable contract, owned by the company and trapped within its artificial economy, that yellow canary represents the cruelty of the old mining towns that the Weyland-Yutani Corporation effortlessly recreates even halfway into the twenty-second century.

The initial hooks in the narrative are planted here — we meet Rain as an orphan, and we see the complex familial dynamic between her and her adoptive brother, Andy. Andy is introduced from the out in the autistic-coded manner of any synthetic within the series, malfunctioning and vulnerable as a result, and Rain feels deeply about protecting him and protecting their adoptive relationship, and yet for all, Rain seems to be the primary caretaker between the two of them, Andy’s prime directive is to care for Rain.

Different Alien films have explored the varying levels of humanity for synths — I’ve spoken disparagingly about David and how he repeats certain homophobic tropes in sci-fi that go all the way back to the likes of Space Odyssey, but obviously, there’s the contrast between Ash as a villainous representative of the company’s violence — upholding its aggressive hierarchy and the violence within that — and the likes of Bishop, who is far less sexually driven if not arguably emasculated in the Aliens film, contrasting the hypermasculinity of the space marines; contrasting these again is the character of Annalee Call, who has the most agency and personality of the synths, and seeks to make use of that liberty.

One might think, introduced to Andy and his immediate familial connection to Rain, that the film intends to explore new dynamics for a synth — not only is Andy introduced alongside Andy as her adoptive brother, but he’s also the only Black member of the cast, and the only Black synth we’ve seen as a main character within the series, and one might think this would introduce more consideration as to his position as a synth as well.

The introduction of the rest of the party is rushed and, frankly, bizarre — while the central conceit of their reaching out to Rain makes sense, being as how they need Andy’s ability to speak to a Mother system on the decommissioned station in orbit above them, what is not firmly established is Rain’s connection to these people, or what their actual relationships with one another consist of.

Certain expository details are dropped in, that they’ve been distant from one another since Rain’s father died, but it’s evident that Rain does not know these people well for the most part, nor vice versa.

Throughout the film, attempts are made to emphasise the intimacy and closeness between Rain and Tyler, with them holding hands with one another and sharing significant looks or non-verbal communications, but the film doesn’t wish to expand this into a romantic connection nor expand on it as a sibling dynamic either.

The relationship has these hallmarks of being close or important, having these levels of friendship and physical intimacy, but there’s never any verbal acknowledgement of the closeness between Rain and Tyler, nor commentary made by the other characters, and it makes their interpersonal dynamics feel almost random.

This isn’t unique to Rain and Tyler, of course — all of these relationships seem similarly slapdash and thrown together, with no consideration as to their wider ramifications or the implications of those dynamics. Kay is pregnant because of “some guy”, and no further time or effort is given to fleshing out the whys and wherefores of her pregnancy; Bjorn obsessively seems to despise Andy and acts as if he’s never seen or met him before, but at the same time is a dick to every single other character, and no further details or complexity to his character background is added in; Navarro is an excellent pilot but for some reason is very attached to Bjorn, and their relationship seems a lot more highly sexed, but not… anything else.

These characters conduct themselves, in short, like they were AI-generated for someone’s worst nightmare of a YA novel — they’re in their twenties, but they act like young teenagers; they’re theoretically adults with complex dynamics with one another, but everything about their personalities seem vapid and shallowly written.

The only character who’s given any depth or apparent inner turmoil is Rain, and that makes less and less sense as time goes on. Rain feels a great deal of loyalty to and a need to protect Andy, and at the same time, Bjorn reveals that Rain was never going to bring him to the Yvara system, and Rain doesn’t argue the point or claim otherwise.

She seems overcome with guilt about this fact, and everybody argues she shouldn’t think much about any feelings Andy might have because he’s a synthetic — Andy himself seems to have no emotional response to this and immediately accepts this as in line with his prime directive.

Is this expanded on as the film goes on?

No, not remotely.

Andy’s software is apparently updated when he’s given the disc from Rook’s body, and this updates his physical mobility, repairs the damage to his verbal processor, seems to improve his concentration, overwrites his prime directive, and then…

Somehow, it goes away again as soon as the disc is removed? In another film, the introduction of the disc to Andy’s processing might have added some level of inner turmoil or inner battle for him, his broken processors engaging with the attempts to remotely update his AI and software, especially given that this is aboard a decommissioned station, but no such turmoil is introduced.

The disc temporarily makes Andy more useful, but while it introduces a risk that he is acting in “the best interests of the company” as opposed to protecting Rain, he still does protect Rain and her friends as best he can — the only sacrifice he makes is with Kay, who is already immediately under threat; Navarro goes from being infected to being dead almost immediately, and Bjorn is similarly very quickly doomed.

What’s the point of these sacrifices? What is their narrative purpose other than people dying on screen? What do they represent?

Why is Navarro’s death so immediate, rather than giving the xenomorph its usual extended incubation period? What does her death actually do, emotionally, to any of the other characters, bar Bjorn, who was already angry about his mother dying because of a synth? Does Bjorn now change his feelings and further blame Andy, or feel differently toward him?

No.

No one’s feelings about anything change in the course of the film whatsoever. We might as well be watching a puppet show.

Even later in the film, Rain approaches Andy after his original directives have been restored, and rather than saying, “Now, your prime directive is to look out for yourself,” she says, “your prime directive is to look out for us” — so what has she actually learned? She isn’t extending Andy any further humanity, self-sufficiency, or autonomy.

She’s paying lip service to the idea that Andy should consider the two of them as a unit, and we know that that’s only talk because scant minutes later, we see her abandon Andy on the floor whilst preserving her own life.

This is the core flaw of this film — it repeatedly attempts to call back to moments in the original Alien film, pays homage to certain lines, dynamics, or scenes, but doesn’t actually seem to understand what the point of any of those scenes for, and thus, in recreating them, makes a pastiche of a film without meaning.

I actually really appreciated the approach to the xenomorphs by the cast of characters initially — using the cryogenic fuel to freeze a facehugger’s tail and thus paralyse it was a creative and interesting solution to a problem. The thought behind it is slightly lateral, and for a film coming out fifty years after its original iteration, it makes complete sense that you would introduce new characters coming up with different solutions to the original problems in the franchise — and it’s all the more interesting to create new solutions that use resources available to the original cast.

This lateral thinking becomes somewhat less interesting — not to mention less sensible — when it comes to raising their ambient temperature in order to render themselves invisible to the facehuggers. It’s all very well liking the Alien videogames, but dropping yourself to the level of videogame logic doesn’t really play well for cinema.

Why introduce the temperature-controlled space suits minutes ago if not to use them for this solution? Why set the ambient temperature at their own body temp and then warn them not to sweat when, of course, they’re going to sweat in 28-degree heat, even were they not anxiously moving at moderate speed down a crowded corridor in the dark?

Why then continue on a pointless conversation on fucking loudspeaker whilst surrounded by facehuggers?

There’s nothing wrong with having flawed characters or even stupid characters in your film — in fact, having stupid characters can make a film very fun. God knows that in the original Alien, Brett and Parker being goofy as shit creates some of the best parts of the movie.

But your characters can’t just be randomly stupid and make random decisions. What is driving their thought processes and decision-making? Yes, in that scene, Tyler is extremely emotional about having been cut off from his sister… but why do Rain and Andy both just let his idiocy unfold? Is Rain okay with dying because this man doesn’t know how to silence his headset for a second and take this call in thirty seconds once they’re not surrounded by facehuggers? Does Andy think that allowing this sort of nonsense is somehow best for the company at this moment?

Every single character in this film is obscenely and strangely passive. None of them seem to make active decisions or considerations about anything in their lives — they only react to unfolding situations or respond to ways other characters act upon them, and they only act one step ahead and no further.

Case in point, all that business with the acidic blood — I appreciate that someone wanking behind the camera evidently thought this would look cool, but it’s just silly, and for what? So that blood can burn through the station in all directions instead of one? So that there can be a long, drawn-out scene where the infamously quick, intelligent, and physically resistant xenomorphs are gunned down like exploding cans on a farmyard fence?

So that characters can tremblingly quote iconic lines from the original film and not quite figure out how to make the delivery land in the context they’re now delivered?

And as for Kay’s pregnancy…

Introduced so early in the film, it would make sense for it to be the true crux of the film’s core philosophy, and yet Kay is lying down and having naps for half of the film. She has absolutely 0 character beyond being sad and a bit of a damsel for Rain and Tyler to each want to protect — Weyland-Yutani, throughout the Alien franchise, treat victims of the xenomorph as little more than incubators for their weapon, and here, our filmmakers treat Kay as little more than an incubator for their plot twist.

And as for that plot twist, it’s…

Well, again. It’s stupid.

The introduction of Rook as a synth is in poor taste — Ian Holm’s image is terribly animated, and the CGI used to animate the synth seems incredibly out of place compared to every other aspect of imagery in the film. At the very least, they might have attempted to reuse or recreate the original film’s animatronics and puppetry — Holm’s image was least poorly recreated when appearing on screens, and it might have been a better choice, if they were so insistent on profiting from the ghost of a man’s corpse, to at the very least have it be a version of Ash’s original personality uploaded to the computer as a special authority on the xenomorph and its species, rather than simply being another science officer wearing a parody of his face.

Attempts were made, I think, to replicate Ash’s manner of speaking in the original films — evidently, this was not proofread or workshopped in any way because, particularly in the third act of the film, every piece of Rook’s dialogue was bizarrely stunted and sounded rather more like an extra from the Big Bang Theory than a character in a serious piece of sci-fi.

Rook wants Kay to be injected with the xenomorph DNA, this being the best thing for the company (How? How is that the best way to preserve those samples? Why not wait for her to get to a station so she can be experimented on under controlled settings? If Rook is a different character to Ash and lacks his memories, then he doesn’t have Rook’s fetishistic focus on the advancement of the human species, so what motivates his actions?), and then her pregnancy advances rapidly and immediately, with an explosive birth.

It’s unfortunate that this film repeatedly rushes through scenes of violent birth and body modification because those are the core engines of fear and dread within the Alien films.

The xenomorph isn’t just a random scary monster — she is frightening because of how she can infect, take over, and use your body for her reproduction, and a greater horror is laid over this threat by the fact that Weyland-Yutani seeks to profit from this reproductive cycle and are willing to allow you to be sacrificed.

Birth itself, reproduction itself, is repeatedly under threat from authorities within Weyland-Yutani because attempts are being made to modify, streamline, and profit in the most extreme ways possible from the reproductive process, and especially given that these young people all exist under contracts that keep them trapped, one would think that Kay’s greatest fear would perhaps be that the foetus inside her might be or become the property of Weyland-Yutani.

Kay doesn’t seem aware of this or even consider it, even though it’s ultimately what happens in the mutation of her baby.

And as for that baby, again, what’s the point of it?

Cynically, the point is clear — they wanted a new, slightly different monster to try to profit from because they’ve stuffed their film full to the brim with dozens of xenomorphs and facehuggers and no longer fully understand how to create the atmosphere that makes those monsters and their ecosystem frightening, so the solution is a new monster!

It was really obvious that they were going to go for a breastfeeding thing with the monster’s approach of Kay, her horror whilst scrambling back, and its gaze on her chest, and I think it was a cop-out for them to go with the blood-sucking instead, but honestly, I suppose it was a surprise they even implied the lactation at all. It just seems like too original and too horrifying an idea to be embedded in such a mess of a film.

At every juncture, this film just feels undeveloped and unplanned — barring the atrocities with Ian Holm’s CGI puppetry, the film visually has a lot going for it.

While the facehuggers are not always super well-articulated, their movement was haunting and always quite threatening; the xenomorphs really had that wet feel that made them so disgusting and so visually iconic in the original films, and yet, again, for what purpose?

The camera repeatedly zooms in for shots of the xenomorphs screaming in the corridor, but not to serve the narrative or any sense of tension — as with virtually every other choice in the film, it feels utterly random.

Ultimately, I spent the last hour of watching this film in the cinema fidgeting and frustrated because nearly every scene felt strangely disconnected from the last, with little to no consideration as to the broader narrative or themes at play — I remember having a similar experience watching Cobweb (2023) a few years ago, which is a pastiche of various /r/NoSleep tropes that ultimately goes nowhere and has no idea or direction of its own.

Like so many remakes, this film tries desperately to copy the most iconic lines and moments from its source material but makes no attempt to update its ideas with new context, its own ideas, its own motivations, and the result is as hollow and empty as any film ever gets.

These kids want to leave their mining colony and strike out as autonomous by stealing not only equipment but also themselves out of their contracts, but as soon as they leave the planet, no talk or consideration is made of that fact.

A woman starts out pregnant in the movie and births a monster, which dies immediately after being born.

A Black synth is introduced as being of familial importance to the white MC, is dismissed as being just an object, is finally given permission to care about himself as well as her, and then is, immediately after, dismissed as just an object.

What was the point of any of it? What was the meaning of any of it? Where, in this entire film, was there a signal coherent and considered plotline that actually had any sort of thematic end goal?

I can’t believe a film we went to see on an afternoon whim could be so disappointing, but hey. At least they accomplished something after that mess.

[gothcsz]

𝑻𝒉𝒐𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉𝒇𝒂𝒓𝒆 / Chapter XVII.

GIF by darksber

PAIRING: Javier Peña x Original Female Character

SUMMARY: Obligatory storm chapter.

WORD COUNT: ~13.4k

RATING: 18+ Explicit topics such as sex, drugs, murder, the occult, religion, cannibalism and other triggering matters will be explored in this body of work. Minors DNI.

CHAPTER SPECIFIC TAGS: the crime plot is slowly but surely progressing, smut, a very wet blowjob, p in v sex, dirty talk bc duh, using panties as a gag, praise praise praise, javi being soft and vulnerable my god, STEVE MURPHY MENTION!!, if there's typos/grammatical errors just pretend that there's not, other things that i'm probably forgetting.

DISCLAIMER/WARNINGS: The Javier Peña referenced in this body of work is solely based off of the character that appears in Netflix’s Narcos and not the actual person. Very canon divergent and I will tweak things as I see fit to compliment the narrative of this story. While efforts have been made to be accurate in terms of canon timeline, a lot of details will be fictionalized.

A/N: i'm just absolutely feral over these two... that is all <3 as always feel free to drop any type of feedback/support on this blog or ao3. i'd really appreciate it <3 [ paloma's piano song ]

♰  read on ao3. ♰

♰  playlist | pinterest | series masterlist ♰

Javier wanders through the quiet aisles of the library, his footsteps muffled by the thick carpet as he makes his way towards the now familiar astronomy section.

He pauses occasionally, eyes scanning the titles on the spines of countless books, searching for something that might hold the answers he’s looking for. 

What begun as a mere attempt to impress Paloma had unexpectedly blossomed into a genuine interest. It was during a reading on lunar cycles that a sudden gut feeling prompted him to revisit the case files.

And there, in the minutest of details, he spotted a new pattern.

Each date of the murders fell in perfect alignment with the full moon phase. This illuminated the otherwise randomness of the crimes—one girl per month, precisely when the moon shone its brightest. 

He read over the files at home, searching for any significance the moon held within the context of the original group, but found nothing. This raised a crucial question: Is this the same group resurfacing, or a new player putting his own spin on things? Understanding this pattern isn’t just a matter of detail; it’s essential for deciphering the motive.

The slow progress of the investigation is frustrating, with each discovery taking its sweet fucking time to unfold. But at least this is some kind of development.

“Did you find what you were lookin’ for?” Paloma’s whisper catches his attention, drawing him from his focused search. He glances through the narrow gaps between the shelves and books to find her standing on the other side. Her dazzling brown eyes meet his, a warm smile tugging at her lips.

“Yeah, actually,” he scratches at his jaw, “She’s standin’ on the other side of this thing.” Flirtatious as ever, he’s pleasantly surprised to see her. She hadn’t mentioned working today during their phone call last night.

Then again she might’ve, but after talking her through an orgasm then finishing in his own fist shortly after, Javier was more focused on reeling himself in from how good her pretty little voice sounded while she was whispering pure filth into the receiver. 

Part of her face is hidden, yet he doesn’t miss the entertained expression that dances across her features.

“You wouldn’t happen to have any books on the moon, would you?” He asks, trying not to let his mind drift to the sounds of her moans and pants over the static of the phone.

“I don’t think there are any libraries on the moon,” she banters playfully, “but we can always call the NASA hotline and ask.” Her teasing has him rolling his eyes, yet he can’t hold back a lopsided smile.

“Alright, smart ass, you know what I meant.”

She laughs softly, her amusement barely contained as she tries not to disturb the other patrons. “Yeah, we got a couple. They’re on this side, though.”

He licks his lips slowly, narrowing his gaze. “Really? Because I see a few right here.” He pulls out two books that had caught his eye before she arrived, holding them up for her to see.

“Yeah, but there are better ones over here.” Paloma’s voice is inviting as she slowly starts to move down the aisle, her presence a tempting distraction, and he follows like a desperate puppy.

They reach the end of the row, and now her eyes narrow teasingly, silently urging him to make the first move.

Which he does, obviously.

Rounding the tall shelf, he wraps his arm around her waist, pulling her close. The warmth of his body against hers is very welcomed, and she looks up at him with bright eyes that are swimming in excitement.

“You’re very lucky there ain’t no cameras back here,” Paloma breathes out in a hushed tone. He presses her back against the flat end of the wooden surface, gazing down at her.

She bites her lip and his eyes lock onto the movement, bringing his thumb up to gently pull the flesh from between her teeth. “Lucky me,” he murmurs, dipping his head to place a tender kiss on her cheek.

She pouts. “Really? Just on the cheek?”

“You make it so hard to be normal about this.” Javi leans in to kiss her properly, her lips warm and soft, tasting faintly of the coffee she had earlier.

His forearm rests against the shelf, towering over her, hip jutting out slightly. In his other hand, he easily holds the two books.

The sound of their kiss breaking has her blushing, hoping no one was nearby to hear it. Thank God this area of the library is usually a dead zone.

Her eyes fall to the items he’s holding. “Still keepin’ up with this shtick?” she jests, unable to help herself from doing so. Her laughter tapers off quickly when he shoots her a hardened look.

“Sorry,” she manages between snickers. “That was rude. M’glad you’re actually enjoyin’ it.”

“This shtick helped me notice a pattern. It’s why I’m here, actually. Looking for more information before I reach out to the professor at UCLA again.”

Paloma reaches out to play with the golden star pinned to his chest, her fingers tracing its edges as she listens intently. “What’s the pattern?” she looks up at him with genuine curiosity.

He explains, and she is truly awestruck at how intricate it all really is. It’s the same feeling she got after watching the press conference. “When’s the next full moon?”

“In two days.”

“So what’s the plan?”

“I don’t know,” he admits with a sigh, “Maybe enforcing a curfew. Make sure everyone is safe and at home. That won’t be very difficult to do considering the storm that’s headed this way.”

When it rains, it pours. The last time their little town had seen any type of precipitation was the day of Nina’s funeral, and that seems like it was forever ago. Now, they’re being warned of some pretty strong winds and potential flooding.

“Then maybe nothin’ll happen,” she suggests, her voice hopeful.

“I sure fucking hope so,” Javi’s eyes drift to the nearest window where he sees the gray clouds gathering in the distance.

He’s frowning, lost in thought, and she reaches out to get him to look at her again. “No need to get all frowny. Save all that for the town hall later tonight.”

Javier exhales sharply through his nose, rolling his shoulders, his attention back on her. “You excited to see your future husband?”

She knows he’s talking about the mayor, yet she can’t help the way her heart flutters at the idea of that being him. She shakes those delusions away as his brown eyes hold an expectant stare.

“Y’know I could say yes ‘n use this as an opportunity to piss you off, but I’m bein’ good today—so I’m as excited to see him as you are to have to be up there with him.”

“You’re bein’ good today?” He cocks his head to the side, staring down at her with a roguish smile. “And you wouldn’t get very far with trying to piss me off. I know that asshole has nothing on me.”

“I’m always good, Javi,” she purrs, though her tone suggests otherwise. Her eyes darken slightly as she hooks her fingers onto his duty belt, pulling him closer.

His knee moves between her thighs, and she silently curses the fact that she wore jeans to work today. “You might think that, but we dunno know for sure… still gotta try him out myself. See if it really compares.”

The arm that was resting against the shelf comes down, and he wraps his fingers around her throat, holding her with a tantalizing pressure that gets her wet and throbbing.

A gentle moan sneaks past her lips. “You wanna ‘try him out,’ be my guest, nena. I don’t give a fuck.”

“Really, ‘cause it feels like you do,” she quips, her fingers grazing the growing bulge between them.

Javier’s grip on her throat tightens ever so slightly, his eyes narrowing with a possessive intensity. “Cálmate,” he murmurs, his voice a low growl.

“Make me.”

They’re jolted back to reality when a bang echoes from nearby, the sharp sound enough to have him loosen his hold and pull back from her. “Like I said, you make it real fucking hard to be normal about this. ‘I’m always good, Javi’ my ass,” he mocks her with a wry smile.

She giggles, a mischievous gleam in her eyes, as she bites down on her thumb. The sight of him flustered only entertains her further. “M’sorry… can’t help but poke the bear.”

Their moment is further interrupted by the abrupt static of his walkie-talkie coming to life. An officer’s voice garbles through, requesting his assistance with a disturbance at the grocery store.

“Be right there,” Javier responds flatly, his mood shifting as he hands her the books he plucked out. “Weather’s got people acting like fucking idiots. I’ll come back for these later.”

“Don’t sweat it,” she reassures him, clutching them to her chest. “I’ll bring ‘em tonight. Give ‘em to you after the meetin’.”  She’s visibly bummed that their time together is cut short, but remains optimistic about seeing him again. Soon, hopefully. Maybe on another date.

“Thank you, baby. I’ll see you then.” Javier leans in for a departing kiss, this one softer and sweeter. She doesn’t think she’ll ever get tired of him calling her baby or any of the other terms of endearment that he has for her.

He adds a gentle nuzzle of his nose against hers before pulling away and making his exit, leaving her feeling all lovestruck against the bookshelf.

He knew the meeting was going to be a shit show. After putting out all relevant information through the press conference, the department has never been busier. Phones ringing left and right with false accusations, bullshit information, and the occasional prank call.

Partially expected but annoying nevertheless. No progress, aside from his own little lunar revelation, has been made.

So it makes sense that the people of Seminary are currently acting out in the stands of the high school’s gym. An unorthodox place to meet, but the rain had exposed leaks in the government building’s weathered roof so they had to improvise and move it here.

Javier leans against the fold out table that is placed right in the middle of the basketball court, arms crossed, watching Jonah Abbott deflect every question thrown his way, answering with something completely unrelated. Typical politician.

He rubs at his temples, craving a cigarette. His eyes scan the crowd until he sees Paloma sitting on the far left side, their gazes meeting and her mouth curving into a small smile which has him feeling a little less miserable about being here.

That is until the crowd starts to get riled up again, being very vocal about their gripes with the murders, as if officials haven’t been working tirelessly to figure things out.

The girl in the hospital remains unconscious and unidentified—who knows when she’ll wake up.

Another dead end just as they thought they were gaining some traction. Their knowledge of the occult only takes them so far.

Fear and anger envelop the room with an oppressive weight, voices escalating, each question sharper and more accusatory than the one before as frustration boils over.

“How can we expect y’all to keep us safe if more dead girls are bein’ found left and right?!” a man shouts, pointing his crooked finger at the three of them.

“This is what happens when we stray from the Lord ‘n quit instillin’ His will onto our children!” an elderly woman with an actual Bible clutched to her chest cries out.

“Maybe s’best if we took matters into our own hands ‘n found this son of a bitch ourselves!” another voice yells, and murmurs of agreement ripple through the crowd.

His jaw tightens. He’s well aware that the deep-seated religious beliefs of this town run strong; and the murders, with their disturbing satanic imagery, have only heightened the community’s fears and suspicions. 

“Folks, I understand your frustration,” Jonah starts and this gets an eye roll out of Javi who plays it off by looking down at his boots, “We’re doin’ everythin’ in our power to find who’s responsible for these heinous crimes. But takin’ the law into your own hands is not. the. answer. It’ll only lead to more chaos and possibly more innocent people gettin’ hurt.”

“The law ain’t doin’ nothin’ but sittin’ back ‘n lettin’ it happen!”

Comments and questions fly at them from all directions, with smaller arguments erupting on either side of the gym. Javier and Romeo exchange a knowing look, silently expressing their shared annoyance.

The sheriff steps up, taking control to regain the order that the incompetent mayor had lost.

“What’s important right now is that we all get prepared for the bad weather that’s hittin’ us pretty bad these next couple of days. S’already startin’ to pick up outside now,” Romeo announces, his deep voice cutting through the chaos.

Quiet murmurs fill the space, the faint sound of rain hitting the roof almost amplified now that it has been pointed out.

“Most of the town is gonna be shuttin’ down tomorrow at midday, so I suggest gettin’ your essentials and supplies tonight or in the mornin’ before you’re shit out of luck,” he continues, his tone brooking no room for nonsense.

His crassness serves its purpose, smothering most of the arguments from before. He motions for his right hand man to continue, and Javier clears his throat, straightening his posture and pushing himself off the table.

“We will be upping patrols and enforcing a curfew after the storm passes through,” His voice reverberates through the room, steady and authoritative. “The anonymous tip line is still running in case anyone sees or hears anything out of the ordinary.”

Javier scans the crowd, making eye contact with as many people as he can, trying to convey his sincerity and determination.

“We understand that these are frightenin’ times,” The sheriff interjects. “We’re dealin’ with somethin’ unprecedented, ‘n it’s natural to feel scared or frustrated. ‘Specially when they’re bastardizin’ the word of God. But we need to stand together, support one another, and trust that we are doin’ everythin’ in our power to bring this person to justice.”

The room is silent now, the only sound is the soft patter of rain and the distant rumble of thunder.

Javier notices Paloma again, her eyes fixed on him like he’s the only person in the world, and he almost stumbles over his words as he continues with the more procedural part of the announcement.

“We’re also working closely with weather experts to monitor the storm. We’ll keep you updated with any new information as it comes in. In the meantime, stay vigilant, look out for your neighbors, and follow the curfew to ensure everyone’s safety.”

The townspeople nod, their faces a mix of concern and reluctant acceptance. He knows that words alone won’t be enough to quell their fears, but he hopes that this assembly has at least provided some clarity and direction.

After a few more closing remarks, the meeting ends, and Abbott wastes no time approaching him and the sheriff. “That was great work, gentlemen. Lost ‘em for a second there, but you two wrangled ‘em back under control. S’why I got the best of the best…” his words are slick, and Javier can see right through the man’s bullshit, “that will hopefully bring an end to all this madness soon, right?”

Abbott doesn’t care about the town’s safety—he just wants the murders solved so the media attention goes away. The newfound scrutiny is clearly bothering him.

Apparently there is such thing as bad press.

“We’re workin’ as hard as we can,” Romeo replies curtly, his voice tight with barely restrained irritation.

Javier quickly bows out to ‘prevent any dispute from breaking out in the parking lot’ but really, it’s because he knows he won’t be able to hold his tongue against the arrogant mayor if he’s around him any longer.

He positions himself by the large exit double doors as the crowd files out. Javi nods to those he recognizes from the bar or his frequent patrols in town. The weight of their expectations adds to the already heavy burden on his shoulders.

Just another part of the fucking job.

When the last person exits, he chains the doors closed and jogs over to his truck.

The rain falls gently, wetting his hair and sending droplets running down the roughened texture of his bomber jacket.

“Here are your books, space cowboy.” Paloma’s voice catches him by surprise. She seems to appear out of thin air, a colorful umbrella shielding her from the rain.

“Gracias, palomita,” he takes them from her and puts them in the cab of his truck.

“Tough crowd,” she remarks, looking around as more cars pull out, leaving the lot empty.

“They’re just scared. Fear makes people act out like that.”

“You handled it well. Unlike others…” Her tone carries a hint of amusement, eyeing his wet appearance and how the raindrops fall from the curve of his nose and the cut of his cheekbones. So dreamy.

He chuckles dryly, “Tell me about it.”

Just as the conversation begins to drift into flirtatious territory, Romeo’s car pulls up beside them with the window rolled down.

Javier is glad he resisted the urge to step forward and kiss her in the rain, though he knows she would have liked that.

Her father? Probably not so much.

“Finally got Abbott to stop runnin’ his mouth. S’like talkin’ to a spoiled brat,” he complains, clearly frustrated.

Paloma finds this interesting, especially given how he used to advocate for her to give Jonah a shot and go out on one date with him.

It never happened, and now her father’s irritation is almost a satisfying twist.

“You campin’ out in that dogshit trailer of yours?” Romeo asks Javier, shifting the conversation.

“Don’t have much of a choice.”

“You’re better off stayin’ with us.”

The comment throws him off but he doesn’t convey it, gaze flickering over to Paloma, who has an encouraging look already in her eyes.

Accept the fucking invite! It’s a dangerous, dangerous game, but one he’s foolish enough to be tempted to play.

“You sure?” Javi asks, a subtle trace of hesitation in his voice.

“Positive. Got more than enough room. Beats bein’ hunkered down with just this one,” Romeo jokes, glancing at his daughter.

“Jeez, daddy, thanks,” she playfully shakes her head, a smile tugging at her lips as she rounds the car and gets into the passenger seat, closing and shaking off her wet umbrella.

“Alright,” he concedes and she’s over the freaking moon, “Thanks. I appreciate it. See you all tomorrow.”

Romeo nods in acknowledgement and Paloma winks at him behind her father’s back.

She is kneeling over her plants when Javier shows up the following day. The rain from last night and this morning has finally let up, and she’s using this pocket of dryness to put row covers over her garden to shield it from the severe weather.

“I’ve always admired a girl who likes to get her hands dirty,” he says from behind her with a cocky grin. She turns to face him, mud covering her overalls and caking her rain boots.

“How original,” she replies, wiping sweat off her forehead with the back of her gloved hand, smearing some dirt there in the process. “So damn humid, feels like the devil’s ballsack out today.”

Javi chuckles and steps closer, affectionately wiping the dirt from her forehead. “You have a way with words, sweetheart. Where’s your dad?”

“Went to get a few last-minute things ‘fore town closed up.”

“So I can kiss you without having to look over my shoulder?”

“Dunno if you wanna do all that when I’m dirtied up like this.”

“I think you wear the mud real nice,” he murmurs, pulling her to him. He places a wet kiss on her lips, which she reciprocates without hesitation, her tongue breaching his mouth.

“Guess I’m not too dirty for you after all,” she whispers when they part, a flirtatious simper ghosting over her mouth.

“Never that, preciosa. Do I need to remind you how dirty you were over the phone the other night?” he raises a brow, voice dropping to a low timbre that sends a thrill up her spine.

“You might, actually…” Her pulse quickens, a flush creeping up her neck as she recalls their late-night conversation.

It was the first time she’d ever done anything like that, and while she felt a bit embarrassed at the start, Javier’s soothing, erotic guidance had turned it into something fucking incredible. Everything he does is fucking incredible.

He hums appreciatively, “Wouldn’t mind that,” his fingers brush a stray strand of hair away from her face.

He leans in again, capturing her lips in another kiss. His hands slide down to her hips, tracing the exposed skin along the side openings of her overalls, squeezing gently.

Paloma could really die a happy woman in his arms. 

Javier groans softly, the sound vibrating against her mouth, making her knees weak. “I should help you finish covering these plants before the storm hits,” his tone makes it clear he’s struggling to pull himself away from her. “Before your dad gets home.” He clarifies. 

“Yeah, you probably should,” she agrees, but not without placing a sweet peck to his chin.

As if she needed his help, but hey, when a man is willing; why not unload some of the labor onto him? 

She hands him a row cover, her fingers lingering on his as they exchange the material. “Can’t have ya standin’ around lookin’ all pretty while I do all the hard work.” She beams.

“We certainly can’t have that,” there’s a grin on his face as he moves to help her finish the task.

Javier’s hands are deft and strong as he secures the covers, getting dirtied up and looking straight up manly. It has her clit tingling with arousal, imagining his fingers inside of her again and how fucking amazing they felt when she rode them in the bed of his truck. 

Between his uniformed presence and country boy charm—this man is going to be the death of her.

His eyes never stray far from her, drinking in every detail of her mud-splattered appearance as she moves between planter boxes.

She catches him looking each time, sending a wink his way and his tongue pokes against his cheek bashfully.

He can’t help it, Paloma is just so beautiful.

A piece of wood, obscured by the mud, has Javier tripping over it, his feet betraying him as he loses balance on the slick, muddy ground.

Her hands fly up to cover her mouth in shock, eyes wide as she watches him go down, mud splattering everywhere.

She almost bursts into laughter but catches herself, the worry for him outweighing the amusement.

“Oh my goodness gracious, are you okay?!” she rushes towards him and discards her gloves.

Javier lies on his back, the cold, wet mud oozing through his shirt and coating his skin. He looks up at her, squinting one eye close. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he grunts, despite the faint ache he feels at his lower back.

Sitting up, he extends his hand towards her to get him back on his feet.

As soon as their hands touch, he seizes the moment. With a mischievous grin, he yanks her down with him.

She gasps, a startled shriek escaping her lips as she tumbles into the thick, squelchy mud beside him. 

“I knew you were goin’ to do that!” she exclaims with exasperation and laughter.

“And yet you still tried to help me up anyway,” he retorts with a playful smirk.

With a flick of her wrist, she sends a handful of mud flying at him. It lands squarely on his cheek, sliding down in a comical, slow-motion descent until it plops into a heap on his lap.

“Oops,” she says with a feigned innocence.

In mere moments, they’re both engulfed in a muddy, joyful chaos. They spring to their feet and Javier begins to chase her around the garden, both of them taking turns flinging mud at each other.

They’re so engrossed in their antics that they don’t notice Romeo’s return.

The sight of them through the large bay window in the kitchen catches him off guard. He furrows his brows, puzzled and slightly amused by the raucous scene.

“Y’all look like a pair ‘a pigs runnin’ around like this.” her father’s voice rings out, dripping with bemusement as he descends the back porch steps.

His sturdy boots thud against the wooden planks when he approaches, gaze sweeping over them, taking in the sight of their disheveled, mud-coated figures.

“Javi slipped tryin’ to help me put the covers on and it was the funniest thing ever,” Paloma explains, her voice a little too high-pitched as she fails to clean herself up completely, wiping at her muddy cheeks, only managing to spread it further.

“Well, I reckon that’s one way to make a mess of things,” Romeo drawls, his gaze fixed on Javier with a pointed, almost accusatory edge.

Javier, caked in mud and feeling every bit like an overgrown teenager caught in trouble, manages a self-deprecating laugh. “Guess I’m not as graceful as I thought.”

He knows he needs to have the awkward conversation sooner rather than later. He has to tell Romeo about his relationship with Paloma and face whatever fallout comes with it.

She insists that her father will eventually come around, but it’s the immediate, explosive reaction that he dreads. He has to brace himself for the storm of anger and disappointment that is sure to erupt.

It won’t happen today nor tomorrow—not when he’s been offered shelter under his roof that Javi had stupidly agreed to, just to be near his fucking daughter.

What’s romance without a little risk?

“Well shit, if you wanna rinse off, I’d give it about…” Romeo glances up at the sky, his eyes calculating the darkening clouds. “Ten minutes ‘fore it starts raining again. Or you can use the hose,” he adds, gesturing towards the garden hose coiled beside the shed. 

“M’not gonna get caught in the storm. Don’t wanna get shocked up. We’ll use the hose.” Paloma replies.

“Right,” he grunts, rubbing his jaw. He waves his hand in a dismissive gesture. “I gotta finish puttin’ everythin’ away inside. Sure I can trust y’all out here?”

What a loaded fucking question.

“We’ll be fine, daddy. S’just a little mud.”

“I’ll try not to slip again,” Javier adds with a dry laugh, hoping he didn’t just make himself look like a clumsy idiot in front of the older man.

The sheriff snorts and gives a curt nod. “Alright then, you do that. Don’t need y’all trackin’ muck into the house.” He mutters, turning on his heel and heading back inside. 

Javier watches him go, his shoulders relaxing slightly as he turns to Paloma. “Skatin’ on thin ice,” he says, beginning to walk towards the shed and trying to get some of the wet dirt off him.

Paloma’s smile fades slightly, a hint of frustration edging her words. “Wouldn’t be if someone––”

“Okay,” he cuts her off gently, already knowing where that conversation is headed. “Let’s rinse off before he comes back out here and kicks my ass.”

She huffs out a laugh, “Fine. Glad you knew where I was goin’ with that.”

Javier reaches for the hose, adjusting the nozzle to a gentle spray, then aims it at her soiled overalls. The cool water hits the fabric, making the mud dissolve into dark, swirling rivulets. As the grime starts to wash away, he moves methodically, making sure to hit every spot.

Paloma watches him, her heart warming at his careful attention. The water cascades down her clothes, revealing glimpses of her soft curves beneath the mess.

When he’s done, she takes the hose from him with a mischievous grin. “Mi turno.”

As she works, she decides to be bold by reaching out to touch him. Her fingers brush against his skin and Javier’s throat bobs, meeting her eyes with a wary look then glancing over her shoulder to make sure Romeo wasn’t watching them from the house.

“Thin. Ice.” He repeats.

“Live a little,” she counters with a playful lilt.

She leans in closer, her wet body brushing against his as she continues to rinse. The proximity feels like a charged exchange of impulsiveness since they both can’t seem to keep their hands off each other, even with the looming threat of her father’s presence just inside. 

When she finishes, Paloma sets the hose down, her fingers lingering longer than necessary, his shirt clinging to his torso, accentuating the lines of his muscles, luring her in.

She looks up at him. “All clean.”

“You want him to kill me.”

“No, this is just fun… ‘n I love seein’ you squirm like a lil worm.”

He licks across the bottom row of his teeth, “You keep fuckin’ around like this, nena, and I’ll have no choice but to put you in your place.” She wants him to squirm, fine, but he’ll make sure to return that energy tenth fold.

“That a promise?”

“You really want to see how far you can push me, huh?”

“Un poco.” She pinches her thumb and pointer finger together, mocking him and he scoffs.

“Gettin’ in over your head babygirl. Now’s not the time to do this, not when I can’t bend you over and fuck you stupid. Then you wouldn’t have a choice but to shut up and be compliant.”

Oh fuck, his words go straight to her pussy and her heart skips a beat. “Who says you can’t do that?”

Javier groans. Nope, not doing this right now. “You’re baiting me like a fuckin’ fish and I’m not gettin’ hooked. Inside. Go.”

She smirks like she’s just won the fucking lottery, stomping back towards the house with her chin held high.

If anyone is in over their heads here it’s him, accepting Romeo’s invitation to stay knowing Paloma is his greatest temptation.

The rest of the afternoon unfolds with a sense of normalcy, despite the tempest raging outside. The sky has grown dark, pierced by occasional flashes of lightning that illuminate the living room. Thunder rumbles intermittently, its low growl resonating through the house, while the wind howls and the rain pelts against the windows, creating a rhythmic drumming sound that is soothing yet insistent.

Inside, the atmosphere is comforting. After showering off their mess from the mud, they settle into the warmth of the house.

Paloma busies herself in the kitchen, preparing an early dinner just in case the power goes out. 

They used to have a back up generator, but it crapped out on them last year and her father, ever the forgetful one, never got around to replacing it.

Javier and Romeo are engrossed in a tense card game at the dining table, their competitive banter punctuated by the clinking of chips and the shuffling of cards.

They sneak glances at each other every so often, their eyes conveying what they can’t say aloud.

Lingering touches become their secret language—his fingers brushing her arm when he scoots past her to grab another beer from the fridge, her body pressing subtly against his as she reaches over to grab something from the table.

If there was ever a time to show restraint, it’s now. She treats this as a game, trying to get him to break in front of her father, to force him into a confrontation.

Her eyes sparkle with mischief, daring him to give in. He meets her gaze with a steady determination, silently promising that he won’t let her win so easily.

Eventually the three of them migrate to the living room. Romeo, having suggested an old movie to pass the time, is sprawled out on the couch, his snores becoming a steady background noise.

The movie plays on the screen, its dialogue a distant murmur amidst the storm. It’s a miracle the power hasn’t gone out yet.

Paloma uses this brief respite to seize a moment alone with Javier.

Quietly beckoning him down the hall, she leads him to the family dining room where a grand piano sits in the corner. It was a gift from the church, given to her on her tenth birthday.

After flicking on the lamp, she settles onto the bench, her fingers poised above the keys with a delicate grace.

She begins to play, her touch tentative at first, then gradually more confident as the familiar notes fill the room.

Javier leans against the door frame, mesmerized by the scene before him. He watches her intently, captivated by the subtle expressions that flit across her face as she listens to each note, her eyes closed in concentration.

He breaks the spell with a gentle question, “How long have you been playing?”

She glances over at him, her expression wistful. “Ever since I could, really. Momma wasted no time in teachin’ me.” Her voice carries a touch of nostalgia, a subtle sadness that she hopes goes unnoticed.

She’s relieved when Javier doesn’t press further. Instead, he simply nods, his understanding evident in his gaze.

“Come sit,” Paloma invites, her voice honeyed like it always is. She shifts slightly on the bench, patting the empty space beside her.

Javier moves to join her, their shoulders brushing. He’s too damn broad to be sitting on this small ass seat.

He does feels a flutter of excitement at hearing her like this. It’s different from her shows at the bar, more intimate and personal, reminding him of that time in the shed when he was fixing her car and she played her guitar.

The memory of her song about Nina, which she hasn’t brought up since that day, lingers in his mind.

“It ain’t anythin’ new, just an old song I wrote after George,” she begins, and a small, sad smile touches her lips. He wants to kiss it away. “It’s my favorite to play on the piano. You can really feel the heartbreak.”

“Your heartbreak?” he asks, the question slipping out before he can catch it. He bites the inside of his lip, worried that he’s overstepped somehow.

“Mhm,” she doesn’t mind, opening the folder that rests against the music desk and pulling out her short-hand sheet music. “Took me so long to finish it. I was stuck on this bench for what felt like an eternity before I got it done.”

He doesn’t know what to say and she doesn’t expect him to be necessarily chatty. They’re taking turns showing their vulnerability, sharing a little at a time at a pace that seems to be benefiting them both and their relationship.

The room is filled with the soft, melodic strains of the piano as she starts again, blending with the patter of rain and rumbling of the thunder. Her voice joins shortly after, and the entire time Javier can’t keep his eyes off her. 

Beneath the warmth of his admiration, Paloma feels oh so exposed. She’s never played this for anyone before, and the only reason she’s doing it now is because she wants him to understand why it’s so important to her that he doesn’t love her in secret. That he doesn’t string her along.

She’s already been through that heartbreak before, and it left her with this nasty, harrowing feeling that didn’t go away for years. Now, considering everything they’ve been through, she knows she won’t be able to recover if things go awry again.

And he listens—Javi listens to each word that falls from her lips, her voice soft to compliment their surroundings.

She’s got real talent; he’s known that from the dozens of times he’s been at her shows, hell it was evident at the fair. But here, with just her voice and the piano, weaving a story that is both haunting and beautiful; she’s opened herself up to him, letting him glimpse her pain.

She doesn’t do it in a verbal confrontation; she does it in her own way, and the message comes across just the same.

Sure, Javier might not be good with words, but he doesn’t need them to let her in. He just needs to lower his guard and not hide from her or any of his past grievances.

He’s never met anyone who makes him self-reflect as much as she does.

As the final notes fade into the quiet, the sounds of the weather seamlessly take their place. Paloma’s fingers linger on the keys as she turns to look at him, “What’d ya think?”

Javier reaches out, stroking her cheek affectionately. “Increíble, cariño. Can’t imagine how hard it was for you to go through that.” he replies, words laden with sincerity.

A small yet genuine smile paints itself on her face and she shrugs lightly, “It was tough, but I’m a tough girl. Got through it eventually…” she trails off, attention flickering to the keys before meeting his brown eyes again, “And I know I’m bein’ kinda anal about you tellin’ my daddy ‘n stuff but there’s reasonin’ behind it. I wanted you to know that reason. You make me feel all these...things. Things I’ve felt before. Things I’ve lost. I don’t want that to happen again.”

“And it won’t.” He reassures her, tone hushed as to not wake her father.

The lights flicker suddenly and they both look towards the lamp before he’s getting her to look at him again.

“Paloma, those things you feel. I feel them too and I don’t want to fuck ‘em up either. Te quiero a ti (I want you), mi corazón, te necesito (I need you). Like fuckin’ air. It’s ridiculous how spun you’ve got me.”

Paloma’s heart swells at his words, the rawness of them, and she doesn’t give a fuck if her dad was to walk in in this very moment; she lurches forward to kiss him, holding his jaw tenderly.

The power finally gives out, accompanied with a deafening crash of lightning, plunging the room into darkness. The storm outside intensifies, its ferocity underscored by the unrelenting roar of thunder.

They pull back abruptly, but he’s still close enough to brush his nose against the soft skin of her cheek. He needs her so bad.

Paloma’s eyes flutter close at the feel of his warm breath caressing her, a polarizing energy drawing them together and she almost crawls onto his lap.

She hears her father’s voice calling for her and she wishes she hadn’t. Wishes he wasn’t around at all so she could take Javier right here on the fucking piano.

She moves off the bench, flustered completely, shouting down the hall, “We’re gettin’ the lanterns outta the closet to set ‘em up.”

Javier clears his throat, following her down the shadowy hallway until they’re at the closet, watching her rummage through it.

The dim light from the lightning intermittently illuminates her figure, making her movements more sensual than they should be.

When his vision becomes clouded by lust, it’s hard for him to focus on anything that isn’t his subject of affection. That currently being her.

His gaze lingers on her bent over figure, her leggings hugging her curves just right, shirt riding up to expose a slither of skin at her lower back. “No candles?”

“Not safe in a storm like this,” she replies, pulling out a taped up cardboard box. “Don’t want the house goin’ up in flames if the gas lines get hit.”

Turning to look over her shoulder, she smirks when she sees that he’s distracted. “Hey handsome, my eyes are up here.”

“And while your eyes are definitely worth admiring, I’m more intrigued by this ass you got, baby.” He can’t help but deliver a slight spank.

A flush creeps up her cheeks and she gasps his name softly, “Just go put these out by the kitchen and living room, please.”

“Si, jefa.” His grin widens, clearly enjoying her reaction, as he takes the box and heads toward the main rooms, leaving her to handle upstairs.

When Paloma rejoins them in the kitchen, she finds Javier and her father standing by the window, their faces illuminated by the flickering light of the lanterns. They peer out into the storm, watching the rain lash against the windowpane.

“It’s been a while since we’ve had one of these,” she comments.

Romeo, with a small scowl, shakes his head. “Leave it to everyone in town to think this is the work of the devil.”

She snorts at the remark, recognizing the truth in it. A weather anomaly in their small town is enough to stir up wild tales and superstitions. That atop of all the rising tensions and well…

“Yeah, one odd storm, and it’s suddenly the apocalypse,” Javier quips.

She moves to set the table. “I guess now’s as good a time as any to have dinner. In case the end times really are amongst us.”

They sit around the table, their conversation punctuated by the occasional rumble of thunder. As they finish their meal and clean up, her father clears his throat and stretches, glancing out at the downpour with a tired sigh. “I’m turnin’ in for the night,” he announces. 

Paloma and Javier exchange glances, her drying off plates next to her dad and him leaning against the kitchen island, trying not to show how eager they are to be left alone.

“Me too. Probably gonna read a bit before bed. Javier, we’ve set up my old playroom for you to stay in.” His lips twitch at the use of his full first name, and he looks at them both, rubbing his lips together.

“I appreciate you letting me bunker down here.”

“Not a problem. Wouldn’t be surprised if we saw your tin can blowin’ across the yard.” Romeo jokes, drying his hands off then leaning over to pinch at his daughter’s nose affectionately, like he always does. She scrunches her face up in response.

“Night y’all. Javier help yourself to anything.”

He bites back a smirk, the first response to cross his mind being like your daughter? Like the smug bastard that he is. Instead, he gives him a curt nod. “Thank you, goodnight.”

“Night daddy.”

There’s a charged silence as Romeo saunters down the hall, and it’s not until they hear his bedroom door click close that he rounds the counter and walks up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and nuzzling his face into the crook of her neck.

“Help myself to anything I want. Hm…” he whispers hotly into her ear, one hand moving up to grope her breast, the other toying with the band of her leggings.

She exhales shakily, letting her head fall back against his shoulder and closing her eyes as she enjoys his touch on her body, the way she can feel his erection poking against her ass. “What happened to you not gettin’ hooked?”

He sees the small smirk on her face and he squeezes his grip on her tit, nibbling along her neck. She shudders.

“Shut up.”

Javier spins her around, caging her between him and the counter, dark eyes boring into hers. He goes in for a proper kiss but she stops him, pointer finger pressing against his pursed lips.

He growls her name out and it’s almost drowned out by the wave of thunder that rolls by.

“Meet me in my room in an hour.” She whispers, dropping her hand and spreading her palm against the center of his chest, pushing him back so she’s able to slip away from him.

“Always a tease,” he grumbles, adjusting himself in his sweatpants.

“Promise I’ll make it worth your while.” Paloma walks backwards, blowing him a kiss before disappearing upstairs.

Javier stands on the other side of her door, exactly an hour later as instructed. He rasps his knuckles softly against the wood, and the door opens immediately.

“Hi.”

“Hey.”

They share a moment of silence, exchanging a lustful stare before she opens the door wider for him to come in.

“This is a bad idea, bebita. Your dad is just downstairs.” Though the statement dies on his tongue as his eyes rake over her body.

She’s wearing his red checkered flannel, the one he had let her wear the night of the Fourth of July. She hasn’t got anything on under it aside from the only thong she owns, since she isn’t privy to them.

Usually, she would just forgo underwear altogether instead of wearing the uncomfortable scrap of fabric.

But it’s serving its purpose right now.

The flannel doesn’t smell like him anymore since she’d washed it, but she still liked how soft it felt against her skin.

Plus, she knew he wouldn’t be able to resist once he saw her in it.

“Then we’ll have to be quiet.” Her voice drops to a whisper, walking him back until he’s sat at the edge of her bed, Paloma standing between his spread legs and her hands cupping his face.

He swallows hard, his large hands automatically finding her hips, sliding under the flannel to feel the warmth of her skin. “You look incredible.”

Paloma leans in, her lips ghosting over his. “I wore it just for you.”

Javier’s heart races as he feels the heat emanating from her body. He gently tugs her closer, exploring the curve of her waist, the soft swell of her hips, then grabbing her ass. “You’re killing me, princesa.”

She loves hearing that coming from him.

“You gonna be able to stay quiet? Last time we had to be, I had to shut you up myself.” His touch shifts to the back of her thighs, fingers caressing the soft skin there, eyes focused on her and how she reacts to him.

Two lanterns bathe her room in warm light, casting a glow that aids her in her quest to seduce him.

“I think I can manage this time.” She ducks her head to kiss him, not hungrily or passionately, but slowly, savoring the taste of mint that lingers on his tongue.

His lips travel from her mouth to her jawline, and down the sensitive skin of her neck.

“Javi?”

“¿Si, muñeca?”

“I need your help with something.”

“What’s that, baby?”

“Need you to talk me through sucking your dick.”

He pulls back abruptly, blinking rapidly as he processes her words. “What?”

“Don’t make me repeat it,” she juts her lower lip out, “I’ve… well I’ve never done it before and I really, really really want to do it with you.” She sounds desperate but she doesn’t care.

Paloma’s been fantasizing about it for a while now, the desire to do it only growing the more intimate they got. Her mind has been filled with images of him, his reactions, and the way he might look at her with that smoldering gaze of his.

The thought of pleasing him, of having his taste and scent overwhelm her, has her buzzing with a heady mix of excitement and nervousness.

“I’m having a hard time believing that. You’ve got perfect fuckin’ lips,” soft, plump, just begging to have a cock between them.

She giggles, feeling his fingers toying with the thin strap of her thong. “Thank you. I’d like to put ‘em to use if you don’t mind.”

He blows out a breath, trying to keep his composure. “How inexperienced are we talking here?” Javier’s cock is already twitching, knowing that no one has breached this part of her and that he’s the one who gets to do it is making him delirious.

“I know what it is. Given a hand job before but never had one down my throat,” she admits, her cheeks flushed.

He grunts at her wording. “I’ve seen a few dirty flicks where the girl’s done it. I think m’capable, but I wanna know what you like. How you want me to take it.”

“You can’t say things like that and expect me to keep my shit together.”

Another giggle escapes her lips as she slowly moves to her knees, the plush rug cushioning her descent. Her dainty hands come to rest on his muscular thighs, fingers gently kneading the fabric of his gray sweatpants.

He looks irresistibly sexy in his casual attire, a simple t-shirt and sweatpants that do nothing to hide the raw masculinity that has her already dripping wet, eagerly awaiting his instructions.

The look she gives him—those eyes, brimming with lust—makes him wish he had a video camera to capture this moment.

He wants to immortalize the way her lips part slightly, how her breath quickens, the way her hands tremble with enthusiasm.

He wants to be able to replay it over and over again, to remember how she looks up at him from beneath her lashes, her gaze filled with an intensity that sends a jolt of arousal straight to his cock.

“Unbutton the shirt. Wanna see those pretty tits of yours, sweetheart.” 

Her thighs clench, fingers flying to the buttons of the flannel, deftly popping them open to reveal her chest, a shiver skipping over her exposed skin and perking her nipples.

Javier’s eyes darken with hunger as he licks his lips slowly, savoring the sight before him.

He brings his hand up, cupping her left breast, his thumb brushing over her skin in teasing strokes. His calloused touch sends a ripple of pleasure through her, responding with ragged breaths.

Just as she starts to lean into his hand, he pulls away, leaving her yearning for more.

“Now touch me, princesa. Feel how hard you got me.”

This is how she dies, she thinks, with Javier Peña talking her through her first blowjob. Their little erotic phone call had been one experience, and now he is bestowing another one upon her. In the same week.

Maybe she’s already dead.

Her palm glides up and down his length, tracing the hardening outline over the soft fabric of his sweatpants. The sight of her full tits and pebbled nipples enough to get him fully hard.

Paloma leans in, gently lifting the hem of his tee out of the way. She places a delicate kiss just above his waistband, her lips brushing against the warm skin of his lower abdomen and her nose scrunching as the dark trail of hair tickles her.

Her hand continues its rhythmic motion, eliciting a slow, deep exhale from him— unspoken encouragement to keep going.

“So big,” she murmurs, “don’t know how I’m goin’ to fit it all in my mouth.” Her tongue darts out, teasingly licking around his belly button, causing his stomach to tighten in anticipation.

“Don’t worry, muñeca,” he coos, “We’ll make it fit.”

With starry eyes, she hooks her fingers into the waistband of his bottoms, slowly dragging them down. He lifts his hips to help her, the fabric sliding off and pooling around his ankles.

His cock springs free, resting heavily against his pelvis.

Her eyes widen, mouth watering.

She’s felt his impressive size, but seeing it so closely in the flesh sends thudding pressure to her clit, blood rushing with a desperate need to please him.

He’s thick and perfectly sized with an enticing curve that has her tongue moving involuntarily in her mouth. The skin is a shade lighter than the rest of him, currently flushed a deep, heated red, the smooth head throbbing and glistening with precum dripping from the slit.

“Damn, Javi,” she purrs, a content hum vibrating through her chest. “Every part of you is handsome.” It makes her heart race, and she can feel heat licking at her labia, eager to show him just how much she aches for him.

He exhales through his nose, stroking her hair and gently urging her forward. “Give it a kiss, bebita.”

“Where?”

“Donde tú quieras.”

She sucks her teeth, contemplating how she wants to do this. The soft lighting of the room and the flashes of silver from the lightning outside accentuate every ridge and curve of his cock—making it look so yummy.

Javi can feel her warm breath fanning over him, then the blissful wetness of her plump lips as she presses them against the blazing skin of his base. Her tongue follows, tracing the path of a thick vein with deliberate slowness.

He curses under his breath, biting down on his tongue to stifle any involuntary noises, but fuck, it feels good.

Her tongue traces the protruding vein all the way to the top, circling around the head, mimicking what she’s seen in the pornos. More precum leaks from his slit, and she laps at it thirstily, welcoming the peculiar flavor. The salty tang mingles with the taste of his skin, driving her fucking crazy.

“It doesn’t look like I have to teach you much, chiquita, you’re doing an amazing fuckin’ job so far.” Javier praises, continuing to stroke her hair with a satisfied, wolfish grin playing at his lips.

“Really?” She seeks his approval like a drowning woman seeking air.

“Of course. Always so good for me.” His dark eyes gleam with ardor, “Now get it wet, baby, so it can slip in your mouth easily.”

Obedient as ever and fueled by his praise, her tongue moves with sinful precision, eyes fluttering close as she focuses on licking every inch, using her lips to press open mouthed kisses all over.

More saliva gathers in her mouth, and she deliberately lets a thick, glistening strand fall from her lips, dribbling over the sensitive tip and trailing slowly down the full length of him.

Paloma’s hand comes up, fingers wrapping around his dick with a teasing grip. Her movements are slow, pumping him gently.

“Your nails look so sexy wrapped around my cock like this baby holy fuck,” Javier can’t help but compliment as she squeezes him, clenching his jaw. “That’s right, así mero princesa, shit.” He grunts, the hand that had been tenderly stroking her hair now tangles into her long, silken strands, fingers gripping and gently tugging, a primal response to her actions.

He mentioned a long time ago how much he loved it when a woman had a fresh manicure, and Paloma, ever wanting to get his attention, has not missed a single appointment with her manicurist since.

“Got ‘em done just for you,” she coos, winking up at him and leaning forward to purse her lips, slapping his fat head against them.

“Gettin’ yourself all done up for me? Mi muñequita so eager to please. Go ahead and put me in your mouth. Wanna see those pretty lips around my cock.”

She can feel her slick dampening her panties, wanting nothing more than to make him feel good. Show up any other woman he’s ever taken to bed.

Holding him steady at the base, she parts her lips and slowly envelops his cock in her hot mouth.

The heavy, pulsing weight of him pressing down on her tongue amplifies her craving for more. His slick, warm flesh, generously coated in her spit, has him sliding effortlessly into her mouth.

Javier brings his fist up to bite into it, letting out a choked groan.

The weather continues its tyranny outdoors and he’s fucking grateful that it’s loud enough to cover the sounds of pleasure she’s pulling from him. “Take it slow, baby, open your jaw a little more.”

She listens, lowering her chin and taking him deeper into her mouth. The blunt tip grazes the back of her throat, causing her to gag and she pulls back, struggling to catch her breath.

The feeling is overwhelming, yet exhilarating.

“¿Todo bien, nena?” he asks in a low, gravelly murmur, eyelids heavy as he watches her.

The fingers previously tangled in her hair now brush away the few stray strands that have fallen forward behind her ear.

She responds with a breathy hum of affirmation, determined to push him further down her throat. But her eagerness causes her to overestimate her capacity, resulting in a sputtering mess as she chokes and coughs, droplets of her saliva splattering over him.

“Baby, it’s okay,” he soothes, his thumb gently swiping at the spit on her lower lip. “Take it easy. S’not a race.” The tender gesture only heightens her arousal.

“I jus’ wanna make you feel good, Javi,” she replies, voice hoarse from the strain of her attempt at deep throating.

“Trust me, you’re doing just fine. Here, let me help.” His hand moves to the nape of her neck, carefully guiding her closer. 

He slowly breaches her mouth with his cock again, slipping in and out in a gentle rhythm. He helps her find a steady pace, his care and control transforming the act into more of an intimate experience.

“Atta girl, just like that. Tan hermosa,” he murmurs, admiring the view of her flushed face. “Think you can handle it all on your own now?”

She responds with a soft nod, the subtle move has her teeth just barely grazing his throbbing cock and it makes him shudder, jaw going slack.

More confident and her jaw worked open more, Paloma hollows her cheeks and blows him with keenness.

Her hands join in, one cradling his balls while the other wraps around his dick, stroking him in time with her mouth.

She looks up at him through her wet lashes, a loving glint twinkling in her eyes.

Javier curses under his breath, head lolling back and eyes fluttering close as her mouth and tongue work together to tread the fine fucking line of his orgasm. 

She takes him deeper, her swollen lips stretching around his cock while her jaw aches from accommodating him.

He gathers her hair into a loose ponytail with his fist, hips starting to move in tandem with her mouth. “Just like that, palomita.”

She’s got the hang of it now, able to take him all in, nose brushing against the tuft of hair at his base that’s damp with the saliva from her ministrations. 

The storm rages outside, but here, in this moment, all he can focus on is the exquisite torment of her mouth tightening the coil at the base of his spine.

Paloma stills, swallowing around his length and he praises her in a hushed whisper.

Javi gently strokes her cheek with his fingertips, his touch tender and reassuring, the contrast of his soft caress with the way she’s got him down her throat making her heart do jumping jacks.

She struggles to breathe but she doesn’t really give a fuck. The intense thrill of his reactions has her losing herself completely, thighs tensing together.

Her thong, now drenched with her own excited mess, sticks to her pussy; reminding her of how hot and bothered she is from just blowing him.

Between her tight throat, swirling tongue, and pretty gags, Javier has to pull her off of him before he spills his load down her throat.

Gasping for air, her eyes are glazed with tears of both pleasure and strain.

She looks up at him again with an expression so intoxicating—he nearly paints her face at the sight. 

“What’s wrong?”

“Nada, cariño. I’d just like to fuck your pussy and not come down your throat tonight.” Some other time, for sure.

“I take it as I did a good job?”

“Best I’ve ever had.”

Paloma’s lips curl into a triumphant smirk, brown eyes glowing with satisfaction at his praise. She licks her lips, savoring the lingering taste of him as she leans in, pressing a final kiss on the sensitive tip of his cock with the electrifying touch of her lips.

Slowly, she rises from her knees, her movements fluid and deliberately sensual. She trails heated, open-mouthed kisses up his torso, each touch igniting a feverish path on his skin.

As she moves, she pulls his shirt up along with her, her soft breasts brushing against his firm stomach.

He reacts quickly, shedding the shirt and tossing it aside.

Their lips finally meet in a fervent kiss. It’s messy and passionate—they’re drunk off each other.

“How do you want me?” Paloma asks in a sultry whisper.

“Face down, ass up,” he grunts, pushing the flannel off her shoulders, eager to feel more of her bare skin beneath his touch.

She positions herself on the bed, her face nuzzling against the soft mountain of pillows, arms stretched out in front of her.

The recently fixed headboard offers a silent promise; no noise will give them away, and they won’t have to worry about getting caught.

That’s the last thing they need.

Whether they’re able to keep quiet themselves is an entirely different thing.

Javier, now fully nude, strokes his cock slowly, savoring the sight before him. Her plump ass is on full display, tantalizingly framed by the thin, barely-there panties.

He grunts with satisfaction, his gaze hungrily devouring the view of her pretty pussy, ready for him to take.

As he closes the distance between them, he kneads her ass cheeks firmly, the smoothness of her skin and the way she molds to his touch triggering a searing lust in him. 

Every fantasy he’d ever had about her in this position is now a vivid, thrilling reality. He’s intent on taking full advantage of this, to make her his in every sense. 

“Don’t know if I can trust you to stay quiet,” he murmurs as he slowly pulls down her underwear, a string of her slick sticking to it, making the sight so fucking erotic.

Paloma can’t help but sway her hips, enticing him further, as she lays bare on the mattress. “I will be, honey, I promise.” She turns her head to try and get a better look at him, cheek resting on the cushion.

“Can’t take that risk. Not tonight.” The bed dips when he positions himself behind her, and his broad frame bends over hers, chest to her back, wet cock brushing up against the skin of her ass. “Abre,” he commands lowly into her ear and she whimpers, parting her lips.

Her eyes go wide with surprise and her pulsating sex drools when he shoves her damp, ruined panties into her mouth. The fabric is cool against her tongue, tinged with her own tangy scent, and she can taste the remnants of her arousal.

Her moan is swallowed by the material, muffled and contained, amplifying the sensation of helpless pleasure that floods her senses.

“Calladita te ves más bonita (you look prettier with your mouth shut),” he taunts, placing a kiss to her cheek, bristling mustache dragging at her shoulder, until he straightens up and takes his cock into his hand again, slowly rubbing it along her slit and spreading their mess all over her cunt.

Paloma clenches around nothing in anticipation, arching her back and spreading her knees a little more to give him the perfect angle to rut into her. 

He sinks into her pussy slowly, growling expletives under his breath at how fucking amazing she feels positioned like this. Her tight, wet heat wrapping around him as he splits her open on his girth. “Sucking me in so well, amor, just like that fucking mouth of yours.”

Every sound of ecstasy gets lost on the now wet cloth as drool pools from her lips, brain absolutely melting once he’s balls deep inside of her, the weight of them pressed up against her clit.

All she can think and feel is him. He doesn’t give her a moment to adjust, pulling out until only his fat head is inside before roughly snapping his hips against hers.

The pace he sets is deliciously brutal, tears sting at her eyes as he presses up against that spot inside her that makes more juices drip out of her pussy and slather all over his dick.

Javier is completely entranced, watching as her cunt stretches open for him each time he rolls his hips, spitting his cock out, covered in her creamy arousal.

He spreads her cheeks to get the best view possible, biting his lip harshly and digging his fingertips into her skin.

The thunderstorm doesn’t let up, perfectly masking the filthy sounds of their fucking. “Feels fucking amazing baby, shit, can feel you clenching around me. Love being gagged, don’t you?” He can’t help himself, moving his hands so one hand tangles itself in her long hair, pulling at it so she’s on all fours now while the other grabs onto her hip.

Like a doll, she lets him move her however the hell he wants. Her arms tremble as she holds herself up, her scalp burning from his firm grip, each tug cascading waves of blissful electricity all over, starting at her toes.

Sex with Javier is unlike anything she’s ever experienced—raw, fiery, and profoundly exhilarating.

As he moves, her body dances to his rhythm, each motion perfectly synchronized with his. The soft flesh of her ass jiggles enticingly with each thrust, the twin dimples at the base of her spine deepening and winking at him.

Beads of sweat glisten on her golden skin, trailing seductively down the arch of her spine. He leans closer, his tongue darting out to lap at a single drop of perspiration, savoring the salty sweetness.

Paloma keens, bringing one hand back to dig her nails into his wrist as he fucks her like those stars in the dirty flicks.

Javier moves quickly, pinning both of her wrists at the base of her spine, her face falling flat on the pillows and further making it hard for her to breathe. She loves it, loves the way he’s manhandling her.

His balls tighten, as does the grip on her wrists.

He’s right at the edge of his precipice. But he can’t let go just yet—not without getting her off first. “So proud of you for taking this cock so well, muñeca. C’mon, baby, come all over it. I can feel how close you are. She’s grippin’ me so tight. Doesn’t want me to leave.”

Paloma squeezes her eyes shut, concentrating on the relentless way he fucks into her. Her walls convulse around his shaft, each stroke lighting up every nerve in her body.

He’s filling her to the brim, burying every bit of his soul and essence into her pussy.

It’s a raw and intimate exchange, a way he opens up and surrenders himself to her.

She sings, he fucks. He’s finding a healthier way to fuck his feelings into his woman without the devastating angst.

Unlike before, where passion was tangled with pain and regret, he now seeks a more fulfilling release.

Javier finds solace in their sex.

A stark white flash of lightning illuminates the room, casting fleeting shadows over their intertwined bodies, followed by the familiar, rolling rumble of thunder. The storm outside mirrors the tempestuous passion in her bedroom.

Thank-fucking-God her daddy was a heavy sleeper.

He yanks her up, pressing his chest flush against her back and trapping her wrists between them, the heat of their bodies melding them together.

One arm snakes around to grab her bouncing tit, his fingers kneading the soft flesh, while his other slips down to her clit, alternating between softly pinching and rubbing circles against the sticky, sensitive flesh.

“When I pull the panties out your mouth, I want you to moan my name. You understand?” he whispers hotly into her ear. At first, she’s too lost in the pleasure he’s bringing her to fully grasp his words, mind clouded with nothing but Javier Peña.

He delivers a particularly harsh thrust, making her gasp and snapping her eyes open––bringing her back to the present.

Repeating himself in a throaty and commanding voice, she nods faintly, understanding now, her body quivering.

After a few more intensely euphoric moments, another strike splits the sky. Javier hastily removes the gag from her mouth, his fingers brushing her lips. “Give it to me, Paloma,” He grits through his teeth.

And she does. The crack of the lightning and the storm’s thunder roar loudly, shaking the house, her primal cry of bliss drowned out by the heavy noise.

“Javi!” her jaw falls open, walls contracting tightly around his dick, milking him as her climax crashes into her.

The sensation is so much, she nearly blacks out, her vision swimming in a haze of pleasure. Paloma’s body tenses, and that’s all it takes for him to follow suit.

Javier tightens his grip on her, his fingers pulling at her nipple as his own orgasm hits.

His cock twitches, releasing his hot seed deep inside her, filling her up completely. He grunts against her neck, his breath ragged, teeth finding and sinking into her damp skin.

He kisses her sloppily, leaving a trail of wetness from his tongue as he marks her, claiming her in their shared moment of fucking paradise.

They stay like that for a few moments, bodies entwined, hearts pounding in sync, as they come down from their respective highs.

“M’never, ever, ever gonna get tired of that,” she pants out with a satisfied grin, tilting her head to pepper kisses along the side of his head as his lips continue to press against her neck.

“You and me both, princesa.” Their lips meet in a lazy kiss, both of them smiling into it. His hold on her loosens, now cradling her affectionately, and she melts into his embrace.

“Lay with me, Javi, please?” she whispers, running the tip of her nose along his cheek, giggling softly as his mustache tickles her skin.

He nods, momentarily forgetting where they were and the implications of what would unravel if the man downstairs decided to come up and check on them. “Okay.”

They untangle and she isn’t bothered by the way their mixed release seeps out of her, smearing all over her folds. She’ll shower it off in the morning.

They move beneath the sheets of her bed, settling against her pillows and the many stuffed animals she owns. “Damn, how many of these shits do you have?” Javier asks, holding a tattered bunny in his hand that she takes from him and tenderly caresses.

“Hey, don’t be rude. Mr. Bubbles was my very first best friend and a very important member of the family.”

Javier snorts, and she shoots him a playful glare, carefully placing her beloved plush on her bedside table. He shuffles as she leans against the headboard, his head resting on her stomach while her fingers play in his hair.

The rhythmic pattering of the rain is comforting now, the warm lights in her bedroom embracing this moment with a soft glow.

It’s quiet for a few moments, his lips placing tender kisses all over her soft skin. When he reaches the scar on her hip, he can’t help but bring his curious fingers up to gently trace it, the question hanging on the tip of his tongue.

“How’d you get this?”

Paloma takes a deep breath, her fingers still entertaining themselves in his curls. “I got it when I was thirteen,” she begins softly, “I used to love climbin’ this big tree we had in our backyard. I’d always go as high as I could, ‘n once I reached the top, I swore I could see the whole world from up there. It was beautiful, you know? The view, the feelin’ of being so free and above everythin’.”

She pauses, a small smile tugging at her lips as she remembers the exhilaration of those childhood climbs. “But one day, I saw somethin’ out in the distance—a shadowed figure. It made me feel… uneasy. I’d dreamt of somethin’ like it before, so seein’ it in person… it instilled this fear into me. Felt like a bad omen.”

Paloma shivers slightly at the recollection, and Javier’s hold tightens around her in silent support. “Somehow, I lost my footin’. Slipped off the branch and tumbled down the tree. The fall was chaotic as hell. One of the sharp branches nicked me and cut up my side. It was real deep, felt like I was gonna die.”

It was a miracle she didn’t break a bone or snap her neck. “I smacked the ground hard, it knocked the wind right outta me. I remember jus’ layin’ there, unable to breathe, and seein’ the blood. It was everywhere. The pain was so intense, and it took almost ten minutes of pure agony ‘fore I could use my lungs again. I started screamin’ like a banshee and my parents rushed out, absolutely frantic.”

The tip of his nose grazes the mark, his lips following suit, showering it with tender kisses. Her skin prickles with goosebumps as her fingertips gently scratch at his scalp.

“They rushed me into town to see Dr. Hughes. She stitched me up and told me I was lucky it wasn’t worse. Daddy and a few of his lumberjack buddies cut the tree down the next day. I was so sad.”

“Bet you didn’t climb more trees after that.” He smirks up at her and she snorts softly.

“I did, I was jus’ more careful.”

Javier’s affections trail upward from her stomach to her sternum, then to her neck, and she sighs happily.

The feel of his body between her legs, flaccid cock pressed up against her sore pussy, cradled in her arms, is a high she’s going to spend the rest of her life chasing.

They kiss and kiss until her lips are blue and his lungs beg for oxygen, exchanging tender touches.

His hand finds its familiar place around her neck but doesn’t apply any real pressure, thumb gently brushing against the column of her throat.

She revels in the feel of him.

Her dainty hands roam over his muscular back, broad shoulders, and toned triceps, exploring every inch they can reach. Each touch feels like a declaration of their mutual addiction.

The way they fit together, both physically and emotionally, is intoxicating.

She can feel his love in every movement, every kiss, and every gentle brush of his thumb.

This is their sanctuary, a moment where they can express their deepest emotions without fear.

“I could stay here all night.”

“Why limit yourself to all night? Why not forever?”

He groans out in satisfaction, nipping at her chin, needing his lips on some part of her at all times.

“As much as I’d love to pretend like the rest of the world doesn’t exist. I have to go back across the hall.”

“You don’t have to do anythin’. Said it was a bad idea to mess ‘round while my daddy’s downstairs but that didn’t stop you from fuckin’ me.”

She can’t even take the expression he flashes her seriously, not with his hair sticking up in odd places and that fucked out glaze over his brown eyes.

“Just leave early in the morning. Or at least wait until I fall asleep.” And out of spite, she’s tempted to stay up all night just to keep him in her bed.

“Fine. Until you fall asleep.” He kisses her on the lips, moving from between her legs until he’s settled behind her, scooping her into his arms. Her head rests on his chest, one leg hitched over his, and her palm sprawled against his stomach.

He trails his fingers up and down the length of her spine, the other hand stroking the thigh draped over his hip. He nuzzles his nose against the crown of her hair and inhales deeply.

Her scent is not only an aphrodisiac but also incredibly calming.

She feels the accelerated pounding of his heart and before she can ask what’s wrong, his tongue loosens.

“I had this partner in Colombia. Steve Murphy. The most American American you’ll ever meet.” A small smile forms on his face as he reminisces, “Didn’t speak a lick of Spanish but still managed to help me get shit done. We went through the fuckin’ trenches together down there and I put him through the wringer so many goddamn times. I was such an asshole.”

“Was?” She can’t help but quip, kissing up on his chest. Javier slaps at her thigh.

She can tell he holds fondness for this man and she wonders why he’s just now bringing him up. Regardless, she enjoys hearing about his time in the DEA, despite how dark it can get.

He was a completely different man with baggage she can’t even begin to fathom.

“We found a baby girl in her house one day. Her mother and the rest of her family had been shot up by some of Escobar’s men. They were about to kill her when we showed up.”

The conversation takes a turn, and Paloma lifts her head to meet his gaze, but he looks relatively calm as he goes on with the story.

“We chased those bastards all over the neighborhood. Right as I got the upper hand on one, a kid no older than ten cornered me with a fucking pistol.” Her eyes widen, and she brings her fingers up to touch his cheek.

“‘Course I wasn’t going to shoot a fucking kid. They both ran off. Murphy and his wife, Connie, ended up adopting the girl. Olivia, they named her.”

“Olivia’s a beautiful name.”

“She’s precious.”

The context of his past has jaded such a good man, molding him into a cynic over the years. No wonder he struggles to be vulnerable.

His eyes, though calm, reveal a depth of pain and reflection, the memories of those days etched into his soul.

“I think they’d like you.” He turns his head to kiss her palm, nuzzling against it as she cradles his face.

“Well maybe I’ll get to meet ‘em one day. Your pops, too.”

“Oh I know he’d love you. Just knowing how you tend to the house and yard is gonna have him wanting to steal you from me.” Javier playfully nips at her fingertips, those golden flecks she loves to see in his eyes returning.

“If he’s anything like you, then you’re in trouble, cowboy.” 

She’s tickled by the hairs of his mustache and accidentally lets a loud laugh slip, causing him to grip her jaw gently as he shushes her. “Shhh, baby…” His thumb is at her bottom lip, “Gonna get us caught.”

“Tell that to your ‘stache, sir. S’always ticklin’ me.” Paloma bites down on his thumb playfully and he lean in to kiss her for the millionth time.

They indulge in more pillow talk until eventually she’s just humming in response, half asleep, her body going limp against his and her breath leveling out.

Exhaustion tugs at him, the weather lulling him into an almost serene state. Watching her sleep in his arms, her already soft features look even more angelic.

Her long lashes rest delicately against her cheeks, and the rise and fall of her chest is hypnotic, reminding him that she’s real and here for him.

Javier doesn’t want to leave even though he knows he must. He doesn’t want to rob himself of this moment—of how, for the first time in a long time, he’s able to cradle something in his hands and not break it.

Her presence is a soothing balm to the wounds of his past, and he wants to savor every second of this newfound peace.

But as he holds her, the rhythmic patter of rain against the window and the rumble of thunder weave a lullaby that’s impossible to resist. His resolve falters and his eyelids grow heavy.

He takes in the scent of her hair, the warmth of her body pressed against his, and the feeling of absolute contentment that she brings.

It’s a sensation he convinced himself he wasn’t worthy of experiencing, so having it now fills him with a profound sense of gratitude.

Despite his best efforts to stay awake and to tell himself to get up, he eventually succumbs to the exhaustion, his head resting gently on hers. His arms tighten around her protectively, even in sleep, as if to ensure she remains safe and close.

The storm rages on outside, never letting up despite the tranquil note in which their night ends.