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gothcsz · 8 months ago

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𝑻𝒉𝒐𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉𝒇𝒂𝒓𝒆 / Chapter VII.

PAIRING: Javier Peña x Original Female Character

SUMMARY: Our main character gets further involved with her other love interest. Javier gets jealous.

WORD COUNT: ~9k

RATING: 18+ Mature 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: Mentions of religion, i'll say it once and i'll say it again: slow burn, officer!Javi P because i think that's like really hot, Jealous!Javi too, some lore is explained, love triangle, mutual pining, 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: hiiiii here's this week's chapter! i just love love LOVE this world and these characters, i rlly hope you all feel the same (: if u see any typos... uhhh... pretend u didn't :p anyways feel free to drop any type of feedback/support on this blog or ao3. i'd really appreciate it <3

♰ read on ao3. ♰

♰ playlist | pinterest | series masterlist ♰

True to her word, Paloma fulfills her promise and chauffeurs Sloane home the following afternoon. Their journey is smooth sailing, filled with belting out songs and animated chatter, so much so it seems as though they reach their destination in the blink of an eye.

Nestled far into the horizon, the house resides amidst a vast expanse of parched grassland. Its isolation strikes her immediately, as if it’s purposefully distanced from any signs of civilization. The last notable landmark has faded into the rearview mirror, easily twenty minutes behind them.

“It’s so far from everythin’, how did August know this woman again?” As they draw nearer, she casts her gaze upon the home, curiosity guiding her observations.

Initially, the house appears unassuming, boasting a generous Southern size. Yet as her eyes trace its silhouette, the subtle hints of antiquity emerge, revealing its longstanding presence in the landscape. The intricate detailing, weathered by time, whispering tales of decades past.

Amidst her admiration, a wave of relief washes over her; it’s a stark improvement from the dreary confines of the motel where her friend was staying at.

“He looked after her way back when she lived in Fayette.” Slo answers plainly, releasing her seatbelt as the car halts, its engine settling into a quiet then nonexistent hum. With a fluid motion, she swings the door open and gracefully steps out onto the gravel, stretching her limbs.

Paloma mirrors Slo’s action, sliding on her sunglasses as the sun casts its unyielding rays upon them. The sky stretches endlessly, devoid of any clouds to offer respite. Already, the heat sears against her skin causing beads of sweat to form, clinging to her like a damp embrace.

Immersed in her surroundings, she takes in the scenery when August’s familiar voice draws near. Her attention shifts and a radiant smile illuminates her face as he closes the distance and envelops her in a heartfelt embrace.

“Looks like you hit the jackpot.” She tells him once they pull away, banking on her sunglasses to conceal her admiring gaze as it traces the intricate tattoos adorning his bare arms. His thin undershirt offers a canvas for her to wander, inviting her eyes to linger on the myriad designs. A glimmer of gold catches her attention—a simple chain draping from his neck, the pendant dangling with a symbol unfamiliar to her.

“I keep thinkin’ they made a mistake. M’waitin’ for the other shoe to drop.” He remarks, his head subtly shaking as his blond hair catches the sunlight, casting a radiant glow around him.

“Just enjoy it while it lasts then,” She teases, her hands enfolding his arm as he guides her towards the house. “But seriously, this is a blessin’. Now y’all can all be together again.” He’s told her about the struggles his group has faced. Constantly displaced and unable to be together for months.

Their unconventional religious beliefs had made them outcasts in many narrow-minded towns, branded as some sort of demonic cult by most. It’s quite ridiculous.

“M’gonna go take a shower. You good?” Sloane asks Paloma once they’re inside, a hint of a smirk on her face at her friend’s growing closeness with August.

“I’m fine and in very capable hands.” She jests, playfully nudging him.

With a gracious sweep of his hand, August leads her on the grand tour, showing her all around the property. The outward appearance of this home is deceiving, as its interior dimensions far exceed expectations. It’s fully furnished, with the majority of bedrooms already claimed by members of August’s collective.

She still doesn’t know much about them, only acquainted with the sparse details he’s disclosed to her.

Seeking purpose, these wandering spirits have weathered the scrutiny of their communities for deviating from societal norms. Many among them are runaways or troubled youth, adrift with nowhere else to turn.

August possessed a unique talent for uniting fragmented souls. He wielded his philosophies and unconventional perspectives like a beacon, illuminating pathways to security and a profound sense of belonging for those who agreed to walk alongside him.

Not quite family, but a bond akin to it— a group of individuals capable of rescuing one another.

“Were you and the woman who owned this related?” She inquires with a curious tilt of her head as they descend the large staircase, her hand still encircling his bicep.

“Nah. I used to work at the grocery store back home and she would come in all the time needin’ a lotta help. After a few visits, she asked if I wanted a side gig. Basically just mowin’ her lawn, fixin’ things around her house and what not. I agreed and did that for a few years ‘til she moved away. Hadn’t heard from from her ‘til recently when I was passin’ through Fayette. Her lawyer tracked me down ‘n told me she left all this,” gestures to everything around them, “To me. With a small fortune, too. Turns out she had no other family so she wrote me into her will shortly after I started workin’ for her.”

Paloma absorbs all this information, engrossed entirely. “That’s quite the story. Crazy how an act of kindness years ago ended up in all this. There’s a lesson in there somewhere.” She remarks as they step into the spacious central area of the house, offering a panoramic view of both the front and back yards.

“What goes around comes around, yeah?” A beguiling smile plays across his face as he leads her into the backyard, and her eyes widen in astonishment.

The landscape is strikingly manicured, adorned with tastefully arranged outdoor furniture and a meticulously crafted stone fountain serving as its centerpiece. Not far off lies a sprawling garden, brimming with an array of crops and vegetables. Adjacent to it stands a quaint barn, completing the picturesque scene.

“This is beautiful. Add a few farm animals and this place could be self-sustaining.” She understands the immense effort required to maintain a place like this, but judging by its current state, it seems to have been well cared for. Now that they’re here, she’s confident that August harbors ambitious aspirations to elevate this space into something remarkable.

“We got some pigs, a cow and a few chickens in the barn.” He reveals to her, as if reading her mind, and she’s itching to get a look. She wishes she and her father had the time and resources to have farm animals of their own. Hell they have the land for it.

Just then, a young girl, her demeanor hesitant, approaches August and tells him he’s needed inside.

Paloma’s gaze holds onto her, her appearance suggesting late adolescence. A slight ache grips her heart as she recalls the weighty traumas that drew these individuals together. The realization that someone so youthful has endured immense suffering tugs at Paloma’s sentimentality.

“Be right back. Feel free to look around.” She nods as he separates from her, following the soft spoken girl inside the house.

Driven by curiosity, Paloma wanders about, stooping down to scrutinize the garden’s burgeoning offerings. The sight of the fresh produce ignites a twinge of envy within her. Vegetables have never been her forte, explaining why her home garden mainly boasts an array of flowers.

Suddenly, a flicker of motion catches her attention nearby. Behind her sunglasses, her eyes narrow in curiosity before widening with delight as she discovers a playful kitten leisurely exploring its surroundings.

A large, goofy smile tugs at her lips as she attempts to scoop the animal into her arms to no avail. It scurries away before she can even reach for it.

“C’mere little kitty…” Her voice trails after it as she chases it around, weaving through the area until it darts towards the cellar of the house. Paloma nearly grasps it, but the kitten slips away into the thicket of bushes. Just as she resigns herself to letting it go, a faint voice drifts from behind the weighty cellar doors.

“Hello? Is someone there? Please help me…”

Her brows crease in confusion, struggling to decipher the person’s muffled words. She leans in closer, on the verge of speaking, when the touch on her forearm interrupts her impending words.

A sound of surprise pushes past Paloma’s lips as she swiftly turns her head, her eyes locking onto August. His brows knit together in a puzzled frown as he regards her, then his gaze flicks toward the cellar.

“Whatcha doin’, sweetheart?” He asks, loosening his grip on her arm and she pulls it to her side, straightening her posture.

“I thought I heard, uh, someone askin’ for help.” She stammers, gesturing towards the basement, a sudden unease settling at the base of her spine.

He hums in acknowledgement, eyes not leaving hers. “S’probably someone workin’ on the busted pipe this place came with. Gabriel!” He calls for his friend, who appears seemingly out of nowhere. “Go see if they need anythin’. Paloma heard someone callin’ for help.”

The two men share a silent exchange, their eyes conveying a conversation of their own. Then, with a nod from Gabe, he departs as swiftly as he arrived.

“There’s somethin’ special I wanna show you.” August starts to speak, drawing her focus away from the imposing cellar doors and extending his hand toward her.

She nods in agreement, no longer feeling that pesky unease, intertwining their fingers as he guides her back toward the backyard, but this time leading her to a sprawling greenhouse.

A soft gasp escapes her as the structure comes into view, its presence previously unnoticed. He chuckles softly at her surprised reaction, enjoying her astonishment.

“You like?” He queries as they step inside, and her response is an eager nod, her gaze sweeping across the diverse assortment of plants and flowers with fascination.

Paloma finds herself unable to contain her excitement, delving into a torrent of facts and anecdotes about his greenery. It’s only when she’s passionately discussing azaleas and the challenges she’s facing nurturing the ones she planted earlier in the season that she abruptly pauses, a blush creeping across her cheeks as she realizes she’s been carried away, “Sorry, I didn’t mean t’get all rambly….”

“Don’t apologize little dove. You look so cute like this.” As his fingertips delicately tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear, she instinctively leans into his tender touch. The endearment he uses makes her heart flutter, her thoughts briefly flickering to Javi as she nervously nibbles on the inside of her cheek.

Not now, Paloma.

“Let me take you out one night baby.” He suddenly says and her eyes widen in surprise.

“You want to go out with me?”

“Of course. Thought I had made it obvious with the way I’ve been throwin’ myself at you.”

Her bottom lip finds itself caught between her teeth, not oblivious to the way he has been coming on to her. Since she had someone else on her mind, she hadn’t really reciprocated any of his advances.

But after the kiss that never happened and the silence that followed, she figures this is exactly what she needs to get over the sting of Javier’s wordless rejection.

“I would love to but everyone in town talks too much and if my dad got word that I was out on a date…”

An undertone of irritation seeps into her words, noticeable even to him, and something flickers in his eyes as he catches onto it.

“Don’t worry about that, okay? I’ll handle it. You just worry about gettin’ all pretty for me, which won’t take much considerin’ how perfect you are.”

A flutter of warmth dances in her stomach at his sweet words.

“Okay… then yes, I’d love to go out with you.”

A handsome expression takes over his countenance, “Perfect. Gotta get some stuff straightened out around here but I’ll call you. Hope I can talk to you before then, though?”

“Slo has my number… if you call and daddy answers just hang up and try again later. Don’t want him goin’ on one of his little tangents.”

A smirk dances on August’s lips, his mischievous urge to test the limits and provoke the sheriff evident. Yet, despite his inclination, he restrains himself, recognizing the strides he’s making with her and unwilling to jeopardize the progress.

“Yes ma’am, anythin’ else I need t’be made aware of? I like my manhood and would like to keep it attached to my person.” He jokes about being castrated by her father and she snorts, rolling her eyes.

“S’all. Don’t take too long ‘straightening things out’. If not I might lose interest.”

His eyes darken at her words despite her playful tone, “You won’t.” August says with a conviction that has her rubbing her thighs together.

“Then it’s a date.” She nods, and they exchange an amorous stare, “I should probably head back. Got some chores I gotta get done but I appreciate you showin’ me around. This is a beautiful place, you’ve really been blessed, August. It’s only up from here.”

“Any time. M’glad you came by today... Oh, and Paloma?” He begins and she shoots him a puzzlingly look.

“Yeah?”

“I think it’s best if we keep this visit a secret between us. We’ve finally got some peace and quiet to be ourselves without being ostracized by the community and we’d like to keep it that way. Many of us ain’t ever had a place to call home so losing this… feeling uncomfortable here would negate all we’ve been working towards.”

She nods, fully understanding how big of a deal this is to all of them and she wasn’t going to be the one to ruin their solace.

“Of course. I won’t tell a soul. The only person I’d consider tellin’ already lives here.” She giggles and his lip quirks up into a small smile.

He leads her back to her car, his hand resting gently on the small of her back, sending a wave of warmth through her. They bid farewell, and as August leans in to place a tender kiss on her cheek, she can’t help but become flustered in response, gazing up at him with a hint of playful affection.

“Don’t forget to call.” She tells him, sliding into the driver’s seat.

He closes the door, leaning down to talk to her through the rolled down window, “I won’t. Just make sure you’re around to answer.” He winks at her, slapping his palm against the top of her car. “Drive safe, little dove.”

Departing from the house, she carries a blend of excitement and nervousness. It’ll be her first genuine date in years, igniting both giddiness and apprehension within her. Throughout the entire ride home, her mind swirls with fantasies about his plans for the evening and the possible outcomes of their time together. Javier pushed to the back of her mind entirely.

When she gets home, she is determined to make the most of the remainder of her day. However, her plans are momentarily halted as she notices a bright colored piece of paper taped to the front door.

POWER OUTAGE IN IMMEDIATE AREA.

RESTORATION APPROX. 9PM.

Well shit, that’s still hours away, and Paloma refuses to suffer through this heat at home with no air conditioning. So, she gathers all the laundry from the house and loads it into her car, making sure to grab her CD player, a book and her journal to stave off boredom. She’ll hang out at the laundromat until tonight, maybe even stop by to visit her father at the station in order to kill time.

The mere thought of encountering Javier sends a whirlwind of thoughts swirling through her mind, momentarily disrupting her focus. Despite the anticipation of potential awkwardness, Paloma resolves to maintain her composure. She makes a silent vow to herself to hold an air of nonchalance, determined to act as if nothing had transpired between them and she wasn’t the least bit affected by their days of silence.

She pulls into the small parking lot of the laundromat, doing her best to haul everything inside in one trip. She struggles at first, her progress hindered by a persistent strand of hair that’s fallen loose from her ponytail. Despite her efforts to brush it aside, the unruly strand stubbornly resettles in front of her face each time. Frustration mounts, prompting a colorful stream of curses to escape her lips.

Using her ass to nudge the door open, she stumbles inside, careful not to topple over entirely and make a fool out of herself.

Once she’s in the small building, a refreshing wave of cool air washes over her, causing goosebumps to form on her skin despite the perspiration from the scorching weather outside.

Turning around, she doesn’t anticipate encountering anyone and nearly loses her grip on everything she’s carrying when she locks eyes with a familiar pair of deep, brown eyes staring back at her.

Javier. Of-fucking-course.

She maintains her silence, averting her gaze swiftly and busies herself with locating a spot on the opposite side from where he stands, this time managing to move her belongings without difficulty.

The gentle hum of the washing machines and dryers in operation fills the space, accompanied by the soft murmur of a soap opera emanating from the small, boxy television perched high in the corner.

Despite the distractions, a palpable tension lingers in the air, accentuated by the weight of his gaze boring into her back as she starts loading one of the machines.

“It’s rude to stare, y’know.” She finally speaks up, unable to resist addressing his intense scrutiny. Turning to face him after finishing her task, she meets his gaze head-on.

Javier knew better than to openly gawk at her the moment she entered, but her unexpected presence caught him off guard. Their lack of interaction since that night at the fair only added to the uneasy atmosphere.

He threw himself into overhauling the department. With Romeo preoccupied by the missing persons case and other matters, he took it upon himself to revamp everything. Implementing a new filing system, acquiring better equipment, and updating certain procedures are just a few tasks amongst the many that became his primary focus. It was a deliberate effort to keep from pursuing her, however he found himself thoroughly enjoying the reorganization because he is good at it.

He had convinced himself that distancing from Paloma was the wisest choice. Initially, the flirtation had been manageable, but as their connection deepened and the lines of intimacy blurred, it became overwhelming.

While it was the rational decision, it wasn’t without its challenges. Despite having plenty to occupy his mind, there remained a palpable void in the absence of her presence. Javier found himself yearning for their casual conversations and lighthearted banter, missing everything about their relationship beyond its romantic aspect.

Amidst his conflicted emotions, Javier grapples with a sense of guilt for harboring feelings towards the daughter of a man he now considers a friend. He witnesses firsthand the toll that the unsolved cases have taken on the sheriff, observing the weariness and frustration. Javier dreads the possible fallout if his involvement with Paloma were ever to come to light; it would undoubtedly wreak havoc.

Yet as he stands there, charmed by the sight of her in her denim shorts and tied-up blouse, he finds himself unable to look away. Despite the weight of his conscience, he can’t help but admire her.

“You’re right. Sorry querida.”

She feels a flutter in her chest as he speaks to her, frustrated that she still reacts like a smitten teenager.

“I’m surprised you even remember me. Figured we were strangers again.” Her words drip with sarcasm, a tinge of bitterness creeping in. That little vow she’d made to herself to keep things nonchalant now swiftly tossed out the window.

“I’ve been tied up at the station.” He begins to explain, which isn’t a lie but also not the entire truth.

Paloma’s soft hum fills the air as her eyes traces his figure, from the crown of his head to the tips of his boots, and a sigh as delicate as a whisper falls from her. The sight of him clad in the effortless ensemble of a plain t-shirt and denim jeans stirs a faint pulse between her legs. Goddamnit.

How ridiculous it is for her to have vowed to keep her distance, agreeing to a date with another man just hours before; only to find herself standing here, unable to resist Javier’s magnetic pull and being drawn back to him by the sheer force of his irresistible attractiveness.

“So you’re not avoidin’ me ‘cause we almost kissed?” Subtly be damned, she allows her words to linger, floating like weightless clouds in the space that separates them. Across the compact room, they share a gaze, locked in a suspended moment pregnant with anticipation where unspoken sentiments hover like whispers.

She can practically hear Sloane fussing at her, their last conversation about him still fresh on her mind.

“It’s obvious what typa man he is. Flirty, handsome, charismatic. Sex on legs— a long trail of broken hearts follow that man.”

A subtle twitch dances along his jawline as she acknowledges the awkward moment, “S’that what all this is about? You think I’m ignoring you because we almost kissed?” Despite that being the case, he maintains a composed facade, a humorless chuckle vibrating through his chest as he shakes his head. “If you missed me, you can just say that.” He teases, testing the waters in attempts to lighten the mood.

Paloma emits a soft snort, a reflex to mask the warmth flooding her cheeks as she averts her gaze, ensuring he doesn’t catch sight of the gentle blush coloring the apples of her cheeks. “As if. Just kinda rude to be a part of a friend’s big moment then ice ‘em out after a heat of the moment mishap.”

His tongue glides over his teeth, a simple gesture as his gaze remains fixed on hers, unwavering. “I wasn’t icin’ you out, princesa.” Javier states smoothly, his words flowing effortlessly despite it still being a lie, “I’ve genuinely been busy as hell. Redoin’ the infrastructure of the department, helping your pops out with the cases. Shitty timing but I’m not dodging you on purpose.”

Paloma contemplates his words, her gaze fixed on his features, searching for any telltale signs of deception. A growing sense of embarrassment floods over her as she reflects on how wrongly she had interpreted his silence. It dawns on her that Javier had merely been occupied with his responsibilities— it was his job, after all. Considering her father’s recent transition to overnight shifts, she can envision how deeply absorbed Javier must be in the process of reevaluating everything.

She conceals her humility. Though inwardly, she chastises herself for allowing her emotions to cloud her judgment, berating her heart for leading the way instead of her (sometimes not so) rational mind.

“So things aren’t weird between us?”

“Not in the slightest.”

“Water under the bridge?”

“Water under the bridge.”

A smile curves her lips as she pushes herself away from the running washing machine, slipping her hands into the back pockets of her denim shorts. She saunters over to him, each step purposeful, exuding a quiet yet growing confidence.

“Okay. I guess I mighta jumped the gun a bit…” She admits and he flashes her a knowing smile.

“Just a little.”

It’s unexpectedly simple for them to lie to themselves and each other about the nature of their connection. Whatever manner it takes to get them to this fragile sense of peace; he’ll take.

Finally, Javier can free himself from dwelling on the petty dysfunction between them, self-conscious about his recognition of how much he’s missed having her around.

It was only a week of silence. Can they be any more pathetic?

As she approaches him, however, he can’t help but let those pesky explicit thoughts infiltrate his mind. How he’d love to pull her flush against him, cover her mouth with his and kiss her until they’re both breathless. Grab a handful of her plump ass and perch her on top of one of these machines, feeling her fingers run through his hair as his dug into her hips.

He’d be content with just that, feeling her inviting lips, tasting her lip gloss and nipping at the soft skin until the flesh is swollen due to the passionate exchange.

It’s thoughts like these that make it hard for him to conceal his feelings. Why he initially sought to create space between them, only to find that maintaining distance was more challenging than simply being in her presence.

“Y’know, I actually missed makin’ fun of you.”

“Is that all I am to you? Someone to poke fun at solely for your entertainment?”

“Uh, yeah. I thought that was a mutual understandin’?” She snickers and the tension dissolves entirely as they fall back into their usual limbo.

Javier reassures himself that he can handle this situation with normalcy as he engages in conversation with her while they attend to their laundry. He convinces himself that he can exercise self-restraint and maintain a romantic distance while remaining close to her in a platonic sense. Recognizing their mutual maturity, he sees no reason to let something as trivial as a crush disrupt the budding friendship they both clearly cherish.

He can totally just be friends with a bewitching and irresistible woman like her. He can shed his reputation as a womanizer. Think with something other than his dick for once.

“Do you dance, cowboy?” She inquires, her voice carrying a playful lilt as she presses play on the CD player, flooding the room with the twang of a country song.

“Yeah, why?” He responds, his gaze fixed on her as she gracefully maneuvers in the confined, open area at the rear of the shop.

“‘Cause they’re havin’ a little line dance event on Saturday before I play. Figured you’d swing by and join in on the fun.” She explains, her movements syncing with the rhythm of the song as she executes a simple two-step before spinning. Javier finds himself unknowingly grinning as his thumb brushes against the corner of his lip after gliding over his mustache.

“I dance but not line dancing. S’not my thing.” He admits, though he’ll make an exception, just to watch her have fun.

“Well it can be your thing for one night. Get that stick outta your ass, viejo.” She giggles softly, her feet effortlessly finding the beat as she kicks them out in perfect rhythm. With a fluid motion, she sways her hips, his attention drawn to the exposed skin of her midriff, tracing her scar, before looking back up at her.

“You gotta teach me then, ‘cause I don’t know a single fucking one of those dances.” This has her halting her movements entirely, extending her arms outward and motioning for him to join her.

He approaches her with deliberate steps, and she guides him to stand where she pleases, her touch on his bicep igniting volts of sparks to flash through him.

“It’s very easy. I’ll make sure to request one of the beginner songs just for you. They usually reserve those for the kiddos.” She jests, licking her lips.

Javier chuckles, releasing a breath through his nose and shaking his head in amusement.

She takes the lead, gently leading him through each step of the country dance, her giggles tinkle like music when he stumbles. Their occasional collisions only deepen their shared laughter, weaving a tender bond between them with each clumsy misstep.

Her presence has a revitalizing effect on Javier, coaxing forth a lighter, more carefree aspect of his personality that had become obscured during his years in Colombia. Once cynical and self-centered, he had morphed into a man driven by ambition, his reputation tainted by arrogance and a propensity for hedonism. He was known as a whore and a volatile agent, his temper often preceding him like a dark cloud.

Despite his notorious reputation, he made unparalleled strides, surpassing all others in his field. Though he grew increasingly daring toward the end, it was the sacrifice of his character and morals that enabled the DEA to take out Escobar and propel their efforts towards dismantling the Cali cartel.

With the turmoil behind him, he stands at a crossroad, presented with the opportunity to reconstruct himself anew. He’s determined to chart a different course for his future, to discern how he desires to navigate the remainder of his life. Aspiring to become the man he knows he is capable of being.

It’s going to take a lot of fucking work, requiring him to confront the discomfort of self-reflection head-on. Yet, he realizes that the initial stride involves acknowledging the imperative need for change. Without it, he risks being ensnared in a future filled with cynicism and dread.

Inadvertently, she aids him in this rediscovery journey of his; finding and polishing all the good aspects of his character, valiantly putting them on display.

She evokes feelings of joy and normalcy within him, a stark contrast to his usual reserved nature. It’s why he finds it challenging to suppress his feelings for her, why his heart and mind become entwined in a beautiful chaos whenever she crosses his path.

“Peña! Over here!” She exclaims the moment she spots him, beckoning him eagerly from her position by the pool table

In the midst of the crowd, Paloma effortlessly commands attention. Her hair is elegantly tousled into a stylish updo with wisps of hair gracefully framing her face, her oversized hoop earrings glisten in the soft glow of the bar lights. Adorned in a snug denim jumpsuit, it shows off every curve of her tight body, accentuating her figure. As he draws nearer, he finds his gaze irresistibly drawn to her silhouette, particularly to the curve of her ass like it always does.

His eyes quickly shift as he notices her father poised over the velvet-covered table, cue in hand, striking the white ball amidst a chaotic scattering of others.

Fortunately, he hadn’t caught Javier openly eye-fucking his daughter. That would have undoubtedly led to an uncomfortable conversation.

“Wasn’t aware you’d be here, Romeo.” Javi says as the two men greet each other in a friendly handshake.

“First weekend off in ages and this one convinced me I needed to get out and relieve some stress.”

Paloma leans over, her concentration evident as she assesses her next move, closing one eye to refine her aim. With a confident swing, she propels the cue ball forward, skillfully sinking two of her own colored balls into separate pockets. She celebrates her achievement with cheerful exuberance.

“Though ain’t no stress bein’ relieved with the way she’s whoopin’ my ass.” The older man grunts.

“You literally taught me how to play.” She retorts with a playful roll of her eyes, chalking her pool stick.

“Maybe he’ll have better luck at it then me. M’goin’ to get somethin’ drink. Y’all want anythin’?” He asks, handing the cue stick over to Javier.

Paloma orders her usual mocktail and Javier orders a plain beer, deviating from his typical whiskey neat.

He casually removes his leather jacket, revealing a red button-up shirt with the top buttons left undone, a habitual style choice. She quickly averts her gaze, preempting any chance of him catching her admiring stare and sporting that smug grin on his devilishly attractive face.

“Don’t get your hopes up, I’ll probably beat you at it too.” She rounds the table, nearing him as he takes his turn, just barely missing the corner pocket.

He blames her close proximity.

“Oh, so close.” She teases, patronizingly nudging him aside to take her position. As she leans forward, she brushes against him, and he takes a lengthy step back before his hand instinctively comes down to grab at her waist.

Paloma purposefully arches her back as she’s bent over the table, feeling his gaze on her. It’s fun riling men up because it’s so easy— as if she hadn’t just been on the verge of drooling when he shrugged his jacket off.

Another success as her balls fall into the pockets, she flashes him a victorious grin over her shoulder.

“Told you.” She repeats his words back to him, remembering how smug he’d gotten after knocking down all the bottles with the baseball at the fair.

“You’re playin’ a dangerous game here princesa.” They gravitate closer, as if entering a trance that keeps them from remembering that this is what they’re both trying to avoid.

“Am I?” She challenges, gazing up at him with a playful glint in her eyes, framed by her thick lashes.

Romeo reappears, distributing drinks as they settle into the rhythm of their evening. The first part of their night unfolds amidst friendly competition, with Paloma emerging victorious in nearly every game against the two men. However, there’s a solitary exception when she graciously allows them a victory. A mercy win of sorts

By this point, the bar begins to buzz with activity. When the familiar strains of country music fill the air, her face lights up with a wide smile as she beckons Javier to join her with an inviting gesture.

“Alright now, cowboy, hope you’ve been practicin’ those moves I showed ya.” He exchanges a look with the sheriff, an amused expression on his face.

“She’s roped you into it, huh? Feels good to no longer be her only victim,” The sheriff jokes which prompts her to roll her eyes and for Javier to genuinely laugh.

“Both of you are no fun, but I reckon this one here has no choice but to join me.”

He allows her to pull him towards the open area of the dance floor, a crowd gathering around them but he’s only focused on her.

They synchronize their movements, the steps simple enough for him to have retained in the days that followed her little lesson at the laundromat. He acknowledges internally the genuine effort he’s putting into dancing with her, despite his initial reluctance.

The radiant smile on her face makes every effort worthwhile.

Across the bar, Sloane observes the affectionate scene with interest, prompting her to excuse herself momentarily to make a phone call.

When the song ends, Paloma turns to him. “See? That wasn’t so bad. You did really good!”

“Well, I did have a great dance instructor.” He quips, and she suppresses a grin by biting her lip. She’s probably beaming like the damn Cheshire Cat right now.

Upon rejoining Romeo, he’s teasing Javier about his dancing.

“Oh daddy, don’t be such a bully.” Though her attention is diverted by the fresh tray of loaded fries resting on the edge of their pool table, and she takes a forkful; practically scarfing them down.

“Slow down, they’re not goin’ anywhere.” Her father comments as she devours the entirety of the appetizer.

“I haven’t eaten all day and loaded fries are the best thing to ever be invented.”

“Just like fried oreos?” Javier can’t resist the opportunity to tease her, shooting her a playful glance over the brim of his beer glass as he takes a sip.

She shoots him a sharp look, “Don’t.” Though she smiles softly, part of her wishing she could relive the entirety of that night. Sans the ferris wheel ride.

Shortly after finishing, Paloma heads off to prepare for her gig.

“Been meanin’ to ask…” The older man begins as they make their way to the usual table they sit at, “How was the trip to Dallas? You got back damn near the next mornin’.”

Javier tenses briefly but recovers, reaching for his trusty pack of cigarettes so he can puff on one while he does his best to recount that night without incriminating himself.

“It was great. She had a lotta fun… would have been back earlier but she insisted on staying to enjoy the fair. She can be very persistent.” He lights the stick, inhaling deeply before blowing the smoke out through his nose.

“Tell me about it. M’just glad she enjoyed herself. She deserves it, my sweet girl.” The adoration on his eyes is clear as day, that guilt Javi feels for pining after his daughter intensifies in the moment but it’s quickly dispersed as Paloma joins the stage.

The night unfolds in its usual manner, with her infectious energy and unmatched talent captivating the audience. Amidst a break between songs, she takes a sip of water, her gaze drifting across the crowd until it lands on August. A smile tugs at her lips as she realizes that he’s never seen her perform before. With her heart racing at the thought, she caps her water bottle and steps up to the microphone, clearing her throat in preparation.

“This next song has become one of my favorites after bein’ introduced to it by a very special friend.” Her eyes meet August’s and they twinkle underneath the stage lights. He raises his hand in a subtle wave as they acknowledge one another. “This is Creep by Radiohead.”

♫

As expected, she delivers the song perfectly. Javier becomes utterly entranced by her, mesmerized by the power of her voice. He’s so absorbed in her presence that he barely notices when the sheriff and some of his friends step outside, leaving him alone at the table with a fresh cigarette nestled between his lips.

Whatever makes you happy. Whatever you want. You’re so very special. I wish I was special.

In the midst of the crowd, a man emerges, clutching a vibrant bouquet of flowers that he carefully places on the stage near Paloma. Their eyes meet, and a surge of butterflies fills her stomach as she realizes he’s brought her azaleas, recalling her disappointment since her own hadn’t bloomed properly.

A trace of her excitement seeps into her singing, a gentle giggle interwoven with the lyrics as August winks at her before departing.

Javier finds himself frowning as he observes the exchange, a dangerous wave of jealousy sweeping over him. It’s only when the man begins to depart that he recognizes him.

Augustus fucking Dixon.

For the remainder of the night and well into the following morning, Javier’s mind is consumed by that interaction. He replays it over and over again— Paloma’s mention of August as a ‘special friend,’ the bouquet of flowers he had left for her.

The memory of her smile, her laughter directed at him, and the song she sang, seemingly just for him, echoes relentlessly in his thoughts.

Javier can’t shake the pinched feeling in his chest. He berates himself for his irrational jealousy. After all, he has no claim over her in any way, shape, or form. She’s a young, beautiful, and talented woman, free to be with anyone she damn pleases.

But to get involved with August? He can’t help but feel a surge of frustration. He’s pored over the guy’s file, seen the litany of petty crimes and the years he’s spent behind bars as a result. In Javier’s eyes, she deserves better, so much better. Someone who will treat her with the respect and admiration she deserves.

It’s unfair of him to react this way, he knows. Yet, try as he might to quell the rising tide of envy, he finds himself struggling against the tumultuous waves of the emotion.

She needs to be adored like the shining star she is, to be with someone who’ll kiss the ground she walks on and and treat her like fucking royalty.

What she doesn’t need is to be entangled with a petty criminal adorned in tattoos, sporting a questionable haircut, and roaring around on a motorcycle.

What— was Javier going to be the one to treat her as well as she deserves? The man with a jaded past and inability to commit? Yeah, right. He’s delusional for even letting that thought cross his mind.

He lets out a soft scoff, exhaling a stream of smoke through the cracked window of his cruiser. He sits parked in front of the church building where mass is currently being held.

He’s here after finding out that Gabriel Torres is employed as a groundskeeper for the property. It gives reason as to why he was around the day of Nina Thorton’s funeral, but doesn’t quite explain why he paused to stare at her picture in deep thought before leaving.

A nagging sense of intrigue gnaws at Javier as he considers the situation. There’s an underlying connection here, he senses it, yet he struggles to pinpoint exactly what it might be. Nina and Gabriel come from different towns, and his nomadic lifestyle suggests he’s been traversing the state for a while. From what Javi has gleaned about the deceased girl, Nina wasn’t one to associate with the ‘wrong crowd’. Still, he acknowledges the disparity between stating she wasn’t that type and the possibility that appearances can be deceiving.

Driven by his spark of jealousy, he intends to delve deeper into the group that includes Gabriel, August, and Sloane. Returning to his place last night, he went over their records and any other pertinent information he could find at that moment.

With sparse details at his disposal, he relies on the hearsay from the locals and a single notable arrest involving the trio. In this incident, they were apprehended for setting a cross ablaze in the heart of the woods. The resulting fire grew out of control, warranting all three of them to serve two years in jail.

Driven by a fierce determination, Javier resolves to unearth more information, to transform the whispers and rumors into concrete knowledge. He wants to unravel the enigma of August, to understand why someone as riveting as Paloma would choose to align herself with someone like him.

Javier remains steadfast in his pursuit, refusing to relent until he can definitively eliminate this group from his (almost nonexistent) roster of suspects. He won’t dismiss them entirely until he’s thoroughly convinced of their innocence. Moreover, he harbors no intention of divulging his personal investigation to the sheriff. After all, he had dismissed them months ago without a second thought, and Javier sees no reason to involve him now.

Unless he finds something of use, that is.

He gets out of his cruiser in his full work getup, snubbing out the finished cigarette with the bottom of his boot. Javier readjusts the gun that’s tucked against his lower back, plucking out a piece of spearmint gum to rid him of the nicotine taste that lingers in his mouth.

He rounds the building until he’s at the graveyard nestled on the grounds, approaching the younger male who is in the midst of digging a hole into the ground.

“Gabriel Torres?” Javier announces himself, lazily chewing on his gum as the guy turns to face him with a skeptical look on his face.

No words are exchanged, but Javi catches the subtle nod of acknowledgment directed his way.

“Javier Peña with Seminary’s Sheriff’s Department. Got a second to answer some questions.” He states, his gaze focused intently on the man’s face, searching for any subtle clues in his expression. After a beat of silence, he continues, “You’re not in any kind of trouble or anythin’. I’m just curious about the things I’ve been hearin’ about this group you’re part of.” Another analytical look follows, his amber-tinted shades not obscuring the intent behind his gaze.

Gabe drives the sharp end of the shovel deep into the soft earth, using it as a support as he leans against it. His gaze shifts to the officer before him, his expression thoughtful as he weighs the decision of whether speaking to him is wise or not.

“What is it?”

Javier’s hands fall to his waist, resting atop of his utility belt that has all his equipment on it.

“You’re not really sacrificin’ goats and eating newborns, right?” He chuckles dryly. As absurd as it may sound, it was verbatim to what a group of elderly woman had told him not long ago. Obviously, Javier treated it with a healthy dose of skepticism, but he realizes the importance of approaching this conversation with an open mind, not wanting to intimidate Gabriel into clamming up.

Given the number of arrests involving Gabriel and his two companions, Javier is acutely aware that they may not have the best relationship with authority. Consequently, he opts to adopt a more amicable approach, aiming to play the role of the ‘good cop’.

Gabriel dismisses the notion with a shake of his head. “Nah, man, we ain’t doing all that.” He replies. August had practically drilled everyone in their group on how to handle police interactions. Normally, he would stay silent and brush off an officer altogether, but he’s aware of Javier’s significance, especially regarding August’s interest in Paloma.

Sloane has kept them informed about her growing feelings for the older man and how that can be a hindrance to the overarching goal the group has.

“Kinda fuckin’ annoyin’ that people spew that bullshit without knowin’ how we actually operate. S’like the second they can’t wrap their narrow-minded brains around somethin’— the first thing they do is shout devil and other obscenities. Pointin’ fingers and grabbin’ their torches and pitchforks.”

Javier remains silent, allowing Gabriel to voice his thoughts without interruption. Yet, behind his outward calmness, his mind is sharp, absorbing every syllable uttered and analyzing the subtle nuances of Gabe’s demeanor. Observation is a skill honed over years of experience, and Javier excels in deciphering the unspoken language of body cues.

As Gabriel speaks, frustration emanates from him like a palpable force, evident in the tension of his posture and the earnestness in his voice. Javier takes note of every detail, recognizing the authenticity behind the words.

“It’s why we move around so damn much. Each time we think we found a place to settle in at, they’re runnin’ us off… Y’know, for claiming to be such compassionate people— they sure are hateful.”

Javier finds resonance in his sentiment. Hypocrisy often cloaks itself in the guise of piety, a facade worn by many he has encountered. The irony is not lost on him as he reflects on the dichotomy between professed faith and heinous deeds.

In his mind’s eye, he recalls the sanctimonious cartels in Colombia, adorned with religious iconography that belied their nefarious activities. Their clandestine operations, stained with bloodshed and violence, stood in stark contradiction to the sanctity they purportedly revered.

“Pretty shitty that you all have had to go through that… Has anyone ever attempted to retaliate? Some kind of revenge for constantly being pushed away?” Javi probes, earning a narrowed gaze from Gabe before their conversation is interrupted by another figure joining in.

“Chattin’ up a narc?” The insult rolls off August’s tongue with purpose as he approaches and his jaw ticks at the sound of his voice.

The two of them size each other up. August is a few inches taller than Javier though the discrepancy hardly matters given his hardened demeanor and inability to appear weak.

Now that he’s got a closer look at the guy, he really can’t fathom what it is that Paloma sees in him.

“He was just askin’ about the group. Tryin’ to discern if we’re actually killin’ babies ‘round here.” They share a laugh but Javier remains stone faced, annoyed at August’s interference.

“Ah, well, officer, I can assure you that none of that is happenin’. We’re a peaceful bunch... don’t bother no one. Keep to ourselves. Sure we’ve all done some pretty fucked up things but that’s all behind us. I created the Paragons of the Sacrificed with one goal: to unite and rehabilitate broken souls without the influence of organized religion. S’been workin’ so far— most of our members have stayed outta trouble, others following through with their sobriety.”

Javier remains skeptical of August’s supposed rehabilitation, a sentiment perhaps colored by his personal dislike for the man. With little else to say, he simply grunts in acknowledgment. The name of the group now revealed and stored away in his mind.

“Sounds like a good thing, then. Wonder why everyone is so insistent that you’re all trouble.”

“‘Cause of the childish shit we used to do. S’quite simple. They also feel threatened by the worship of something that isn’t their precious God.”

“So what is it that you devote yourself to then?” Javier maintains unwavering eye contact with August as he poses the question, his curiosity getting the better of him.

Amid the tense silence, Javier’s attention is diverted by a sudden commotion emanating from inside the church.

“Seems like you’re needed elsewhere, Officer Peña.” August remarks with a tilt of his head, a mischievous glint in his eye. Javier feels the temptation to reply with a snarky comment, but he restrains himself.

He’s determined to maintain the fragile rapport he’s building with Gabriel. He senses that he might be the one to provide the answers he seeks. Javier isn’t confident in Sloane’s ability to keep his sleuthing quiet around Paloma, and he certainly doesn’t trust August.

With a pointed glance at both of them, Javi excuses himself, now determined to investigate the unfolding disturbance.

Upon entering the stuffy church, his stomach sinks as he witnesses the chaotic scene unfolding in the tranquil atmosphere of the Sunday mass.

Mr. Thorton, his face contorted with grief and fueled by alcohol, stumbles down the aisle, his slurred words echoing through the hallowed space. The congregation shifts uncomfortably in their seats as he spews venomous words about his deceased daughter, casting blame upon the town for its perceived failure to bring her justice.

With practiced calm, Javier steps forward, his authoritative presence attempting to quell the rising tension. He approaches the man, who sways unsteadily on his feet, his sorrow morphing into rage. Despite his inebriated state, his words cut through the air like knives, each one laced with pain and bitterness.

As Javier attempts to diffuse the situation, Mr. Thorton’s desperation reaches a fever pitch. In a moment of reckless anguish, he lunges towards Paloma, his grip fierce and unyielding. The gasps of the onlookers mingle with Paloma’s startled cry as Javier moves swiftly to intervene, his strong arms encircling then pulling him back with firm force.

The sheriff looks like he might kill the man for putting his hands on his daughter.

In that fraught moment, Javier feels for the broken man before him, his own frustration mirrored in Mr. Thorton’s anguished cries. But duty compels him to maintain order. And so, with resolve in his eyes and compassion in his heart, he guides his wrists behind his back to cuff him and redirect him away from the congregation.

His steps are heavy with the burden of sorrow that hangs in the air. “Alright, let’s go.” Javier murmurs, dragging the babbling man down the aisle and out the door.

Concerned whispers fill the room as a few people gather around Paloma, their eyes reflecting worry and sympathy. She offers them a reassuring smile, her hand absently rubbing at her sore forearm where Mr. Thorton’s grip had been firm and unforgiving. Beneath the surface, she can feel the faint stirrings of pain, a precursor to the bruises that will inevitably bloom in the days to come.

Her focus remained fixed on Javier through the entirety of the situation. When their eyes met, she felt a rush of gratitude wash over her as he handled the outburst.

Because it’s his job, Paloma. Stop overthinking every little interaction you have with him!

Despite the chaos of the moment, she couldn’t help but be entranced by his presence. There’s something undeniably sexy about him in his uniform, the way he rushed to her side with a sense of protective urgency that set her heart racing.

As he strides out of the church, his silhouette framed by the dim light filtering through the stained-glass windows, her gaze lingers on the gun tucked into the back of his pants.

For a brief, exhilarating moment, she’s overwhelmed by a rush of emotions. The sight of him, strong and resolute in the face of conflict, stirs the yearning that she struggles to contain. But then reality comes crashing back in, reminding her of the solemn setting of the church and the prying eyes of the congregation.

With a rueful shake of her head, she pushes aside her fleeting infatuation, burying it beneath a veil of composure. She knows that now is not the time nor the place for such thoughts. And so, with a determined resolve, she squares her shoulders and turns her attention back to the proceedings, pushing aside her wayward emotions in favor of the solemnity of the moment.

The Thorton family’s sorrow weighs heavily on Paloma’s heart in the aftermath of their tragic loss. It’s evident that the death of their daughter has left them shattered, each member of the family bearing the scars of grief in their own way. Mr. Thorton’s descent into alcoholism and his wife’s spiral into depression paint a poignant picture of their collective anguish.

She finds herself contemplating whether she should reach out to them, offering a small gesture of solace in the face of their immense pain. The idea of stopping by their house, perhaps with a comforting dish in hand, crosses her mind as she ponders ways to alleviate their suffering, even if only for a fleeting moment. Yet, she knows deep down that no amount of well-intentioned gestures can ever fully mend the brokenness that has consumed their family.

#pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal #pedro pascal character fanfic #javier pena fanfic #javier pena fic #javier peña x ofc #javier pena narcos #javier peña narcos #javier peña fanfiction #javier peña fic #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena smut #javier peña smut #javier peña fanfic #southern gothic fic #ethel cain #preachers daughter

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selkieioe · 9 months ago

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scroll for playlist!!

my new brainrot is Royal Order from Nifty Visuals (available on steam and itch.ion. they also have a DEMO for you to try)

i believe that it just released about a week or 2 weeks ago? maybe? im not sure but i definitely recommend it! its an all romance, stat raising fantasy based game where you play as Aarya De Chabenet (choose between male and female, changeable pronouns and name) as she makes her way into the High Council to become a Royal Order member. Anyway, i wont explain much because im just here to post a related playlist for this game and most of the stuff i wanna yap about are spoiler stuff but if your interest is piqued here is a link that directs you to the game page itself! BUY IT. its worth it i promise ;3

The three romanceable leads are Emrys, Darryl and Iris. (Emrys is my fave ngl) they all have each of their own mysteries and backstories which really got me going to read it! So i highly recommend you go find out what their mysteries are :3 (all of them are introduced in the link below)

They also have a prequel to the game called Royal Alchemist. Although its not necessary to play Royal Alchemist before Royal Order because they are two seperate games in the same universe. I would still recommend it just because of the world building and immersion of the two games. However its completely up to you and completely okay to play both games whichever order.

WARNING: SPOILER PLAYLISTS UP AHEAD!!

The first playlist i will show you is for Baðmur. The songs of this playlist leans towards her character which i think is SUUUPPERRR accurate sooo \^^/

…..

Moving onto the next is one of my fave romance leads Emrys. I just absolutely ADORE companionship to lovers like it got my brain rotting sm i adore lucius and emrys :( but i cant really talk about it yet cuz its all SPOILERS AND MAYBE SOME OF YOU NON PLAYERS ARE READING THIS. pick up the game.

Im still contemplating whether to post Darryls playlist or not but maybe i will im just not sure of the songs yet meanwhile for Iris i still havent done her route and i will get to it the soonest <3

#Spotify #visual novel #royal order #fantasy #romance #otome game #otome #emrys #character playlist #royal alchemist #companionship #lovers #games #music

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guess-my-next-obsession · 1 year ago

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Hey💜 I wanted to say that i completely understand the way you feel and i wanted to express how sorry i am for that. I really wish you could get all the praise i feel you deserve and all the happy feelings for and from your writing because i adore the way you do it. Honestly, i mean it! I should probably get better at messaging people on here so they know my love for their words and worlds because i feel sad when writers feel lonely, or abandoned. I truly wish everyone felt appreciated 'cause all of you are so fucking talented it makes no sense your inboxes are not constantly filled with questions on how you do it. And i know how much it means when ppl are interested in your work, your process, and anything that has to do with your words. So, i wanted to send you a little message expressing what your words mean to me. I found your blog when i was really struggling (and still am but we are persevering🤘) and your writing became my safe space. And then i also got to know little bits about you and i was so happy to know that you are such a wonderful and gentle person. The word that always comes to my mind for you is - gentle, and im so thankful that i found your blog when everything around me felt so harsh, and judgemental, and cruel. You gave me hope when i was really struggling to feel any. I wanted to ask you about your prep work - what do you do before writing, how do you approach writing and fleshing out your characters and how do you make them so completely themselves, but also expand on that while never sacrificing the way we know them and the way we perceived them (for example, we only saw around 20 min of pre-outbreak joel, but the way you write him is soo him, it seems like theres a whole lot more to go off of than there is, how do you understand your characters so uniquely and perfectly that you can build a whole world with them in it and have them feel so authentic?? TALENT) So, basically, how do you do it, what are your tricks, and is there any way one would get an ounce of your talent just by immersing oneself in your work? 'Cause i would personally love that.

GOD I AM A WRECK OVER THIS 😭🥹 there are so many words in the english language but i can’t manage to string them together in a way that accurately reflects how sweet and kind and sincere you feel as a person. even through a screen and the distance that separates us, your energy is so pure and good. thank you so much for all of this, i love you, anon, whoever you are. please know that you will always have a friend in me, sincerely. i wish we could run away to a place more gentle and kind and live out our days picking berries and reading books and watching stupid movies and laughing at nothing, and leave all of this harshness and our mind’s cruel tricks behind. wishing you all the better days. 🤍

as for your question, i don’t do a lot of prep work at all, really. i daydream and daydream and daydream and then sometimes i’ll get a line of dialogue that i can sort of work around. i don’t plan shit out ever lmao i wing almost everything i write chapter by chapter (and sometimes it shows). i tried outlining my chapters once but it really took away the character’s autonomy and sort of forced them into this straight line when i think people are messier than that, so i try and give my characters space to fuck shit up if they want.

before writing anything, i make a playlist. it helps me set the mood for the world and what i want the vibe to feel like from the readers pov, but i can also find little bits and pieces of people in the lyrics that i take an add to my characters. then, i’ll usually make a pinterest board to go along with it to help me visually, since i really struggle with setting a scene and describing shit. i’m a very dialogue heavy writer because it’s what i feel most comfortable doing. it’s easier for me to write out a character’s thoughts than it is to describe them, so having visual aids gives me physical things that i can add into my stories to make it all a little more balanced.

as for characterization, joel in particular is very easy for me to write because i come from a long line of gruff texan men. southern accents/vernacular can be very different depending on where you’re at. texans have a very specific accent and way of speaking that sticks out to me instantly, it’s like if you took a stereotypical southern accent, washed it up a little bit, and hung it out to dry. he’s also a character that i have a very easy time understanding because i see a lot of me in him, for better or for worse. he’s a very fragile thing, but tries so hard to not seem that way, and i spent a very long time doing that myself. i’ve only very recently learned how to be the sensitive person i know i am, so i find it a little easier to write joel before he’s had that big epiphany of “oh i do have feelings and people have always been able to see that even if i couldn’t” because i’m still in the midst of that epiphany myself. essentially, i try and find parts of me in my characters and work around that, and it makes it all feel more authentic because it comes from an authentic place.

i wish i had tips and tricks but i’m just a very traumatized, depressed, sensitive little lad who’s seen and done a lot lmao i guess i’d say don’t think too much about it! just find the best way to fit yourself into whatever world you’re building by listening to music, or watching films that have the same vibe, or reading, or making moodboards. try not to give a shit about the technical aspects of it and write what feels good to you and what you’d want to read, and once you have that, you can go in and start picking at it and tweaking it. but i’m by no means a perfect writer with a perfect recipe, so take all of this with a grain of salt because most of my stories are just self soothing content i write so i don’t to batshit 😂

i love you a million and i’m sending you all the creative vibes babe!! and whatever you write, send it my way, i’d love to read it!!! 💗

#gmno asks #crying my fucking eyes out as i type this

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embracethemadmess · 3 years ago

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Dreaming with the Witch- #1- s'okay, we're okay

Story summary: Steven is refusing to sleep at night again, but this time he also doesn’t want to front during the day, so Marc has to cover for him at work, running on little to no sleep every day, straining his voice on -quite bad- British soft accent. If that wasn’t enough, there’s this third alter still actively moon knighting without the other two knowing. All this leaves the body completely exhausted and, well, on the edge of falling apart. One time the system meets a witch willing to help heal both the body and the disturbed minds in it.

Chapter summary: Steven has another panic attack. Marc's there to help.

word count: 4586

masterpost

spotify playlist

Chapter notes: It may be a bit chaotic in the beginning, but hey, art imitates life, I guess. Enjoy!

Disclaimers: I do not have D.I.D., therefore my story should not be treated as a trustful source of knowledge on the topic. I strongly encourage you all to learn about it from actual systems or other resources. Mirrors and all that reflections theme are used as a way to connect the story to the TV show. If you notice any mistakes on my side, please let me know so I can fix them.I meant nothing less than my highest respect for the usage of Jewish Prayer in this chapter. But, if it's not appropriate for me, as a Christian-turned-atheist, to use the elements of religion in this story, I'm willing to do better and maybe not involve these symbols/rituals in the story. I just wanted my characters to be accurate in relation to the comics, moreover, I didn't want to erase their faith.

"In the name of Adonai the God of Israel"

Marc initiates the Prayer for Protection and pauses only for a second before Steven joins him.

May the angel Michael be at my right,

"and the angel Gabriel be at my left;"

The American continues, tilting their head slightly to the left, furrowing bushy brows and letting a small lion wrinkle appear right above the middle of their closed eyes. He doesn't want to show his concern for the tiniest bit of desperation hiding in Steven's quiet voice as they're reciting the blessing together, therefore he does his absolute best to keep the tone of his own calm and focused.

and in front of me the angel Uriel,

"and behind me the angel Raphael...", but he worries. He has been worried sick, actually, for about two months now. Ever since they escaped death and fought as avatars amongst the gods, Steven has been different, more guarded. For Marc, it became noticeable when Grant started losing his British accent. Not like he began speaking American English like Marc, no. It was more like he started copying Marc's mannerisms when talking; his voice dropping to a lower register day after day, lacking this elegant, though a bit grotesque, twang. Words that Steven was using also were kind of becoming a replica of Marc's Chicago slang, and honestly, it was a bit too much to handle, leaving him with a strong desire to punch London back into his alter's mouth.

and above my head the Sh'khinah.

They repeat the prayer two more times, then Marc finally opens their eyes and claims the body for the next half an hour or so. Steven doesn't protest, he never does these days and Marc can't say he doesn't miss their fighting over who should front.

On his way to the bathroom, he's deeply immersed in thought to the sweet melody of Steven going through bedtime Shema once more on his own. He's been praying a lot more often lately, it does not go unnoticed by Marc. After what happened in the Duat, they kind of fell back into their old routine of praying at least three times a day if not more. When he was busy or too tired to anticipate, Spector would hear a reposeful voice echoing in his mind during the day, no matter if he was fronting or not at the moment. Sometimes he wonders whether it was caused by Steven's need to be heard or perhaps the lack of willpower to block the other alter from his activities. Whatever the answer is, Marc doesn't mind keeping him company. Quite the opposite, he actually appreciates that Steven allows him to be close during that time. At the end of the day, that's what was there for, that's the whole point of him- to protect the Sun and make sure it rises every morning to bless his day. He gave him his heart, after all, didn't he?

He throws his plans for a long shower away as soon as he recognizes he's only wasting money on hot water that doesn't seem to relax his tense muscles as he needed it to. Instead, long red stripes cover his whole body and leave the skin too sensitive to rub dry with a soft towel. A prolonged sigh escapes his lips, he turns the faucet off and steps out of the shower, exiting the bathroom just like that, dripping, hot and naked. Wet locks of yet black hair are sticking to his forehead, and he forgot to brush his teeth, but he decides it doesn't matter that much, that they won't fall out of his mouth after one missed flossing. Having poured himself a glass of warm tap water, Marc slowly drags his feet through the mess that they called their kitchen, to the place in their bedroom where a simple ladder enabled them to climb up to an entresol just above their bed. He leans on a wooden pole for support and keeps his languishing look at their bed as he chugs tasteless liquid like it's the last glass in the middle of the desert, and only he knows the reason for it is a fear of spilling his drink with a shaky hand.

Please, don't.

Like clockwork, Steven mutters from somewhere in the front of their head the minute Marc puts on the comfiest pair of pyjama bottoms he can in their closet, feeling almost pulled to the warmth of the ivory bed sheet. Sadness clouds their shared features and the one being in control grimaces at the thought of what's coming next. Same time of the day, same horrible light falling through the window on their olive skin, same talk- the only changing aspects of this weird routine being the rising exhaustion of a body, and Marc's misery.

"Steven, we're tired, we need sleep. Be kind and spare me this whining of yours today, I can't deal with it right now", he tries, he really tries keeping his cool, but their muscles are psychically aching in need of sleep, and he feels like throwing up if he doesn't jump into bed in the next fifteen seconds.

I don't wanna go to sleep, Marc, I won't do it.

There it is. It feels like the British man has skipped a few steps, though. Or maybe it's just their pulsing in agony temples that make the world spin uncontrollably, and time pass by faster- Marc can't really decide.

"Steven...", Marc demands, balling his fists, partly in a desperate attempt to hold on to the body, partly because of his sudden need to have an emotional outlet. "Not today. Please, not today."

You can't make me!

This scream is the last thing Marc acknowledges. Steven's voice is raw, taut; his words piercing as he shouts them through gritted teeth. The body seems to know exactly who's in control of it because as soon as Steven takes the front, the whole posture drops immediately, eyes widen, the bladder loosens, and he's gulping down heavy breaths while looking for clothes. After he throws a black zip-up hoodie on his naked, still a bit damp shoulders, and puts on a pair of used sneakers, he doesn't take another second to rethink his actions; too blinded by his own demons he ignores the tears collecting in eyelashes and making it even more difficult to see, and he sprints outside the building. It's all rapid and lacks any sense, Steven knows it. He shouldn't be doing it, he knows that, too.

Yet, he's out on the pavement, it's dark around him, it's freezing, but he doesn't feel it, no. All he feels is pain, fear, and panic washing over him like a wave, again and again, wanting to drown him. Marc isn't there, he's alone, he doesn't know what to do. Coming back to the safety of their house would be a rational thing to do, certainly.

Instead, he races into the darkness of the night. Only to, he can at least hope, be found by Marc again later, and once again, with a bent spine and a weakened voice, to plea for his understanding, for forgiveness. Which he surely will get, that he's confident about because it's Marc. His Marc. But it doesn't make it easier.

Another panic attack toys with the scarred body in the mere light of the moon. Another few tears are being lost in the concrete of a city jungle. And with them, a man.

A lonely man without his love.

He doesn't know when he drops unconscious, it happens so suddenly. One second Steven almost runs into a dog on a leash, the next one it's pitch black around him and just like that, he's gone. And the dog is staring with something close to curiosity as its owner pulls it to themselves, pure shock painted all around their face. The body shoots up, with one hand softly leaning on the dog's back while its legs are being thrown above beige hairs in a quick flip in order not to do any harm to an animal it was about to crush with. A head turns to the unlucky passer-by, revealing blinding white light in its eyes. The whole posture somehow appears stronger and wider, and he raises a hand to his shoulder to flippantly clean a speck of nonexistent dust off of it.

"Gilipollas", he says shaking his head, and calmly walks away.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

When Steven regains consciousness later that night, he's laying next to a random bench in a place he can't recall. His feet are elevated, leaning on the said bench, the back of his head heavy on entwined palms of his hands. An unwanted feeling of confusion washes over his whole body which causes him physically shiver, even though he's not cold. Why he's not cold, he asks himself and before he can even process this sudden thought, he lowers his head just a tad bit and blinks away the tears shining in his eyes, revealing a piece of a muddy-brown jacket collar, the fabric of which is delicately brushing deathly-pale skin of his cheek.

His brows draw together when it comes to him that not only his torso is covered with a new piece of clothing, but also his head. A hand shoots up from under the occiput and under his fingertips, he feels the harsh cotton of what he later on discovers is a black beanie. As he's checking his whole body experimentally, a yellow sticky note catches in between his fingers, and on it is a little doodle of a human stick figure dressed in a hat, a square-shaped jacket, with a long scarf tied loosely around its neck. Above the doodle, Steven reads a 13 number with a little circle and a letter C next to it, all finished up by a series of exclamation marks.

"Someone's being a proper dramasshole, I see", Steven mumbled to himself, only for his whole expression to harden when the realization hit him.

"Marc..?", he lets out hesitantly, hiding his mouth's movements behind a fisted hand scratching his nose with a single knuckle. "Marc, you there?"

Dead silence meets his words, and within a second, his heart starts pounding heavily in his chest again. He jerks up from where he was previously laying down and even if he regrets it right after, suddenly feeling way too dizzy for his liking, he pushes that thought down to where fear was settling in his lower abdomen.

"You better not be throwing a wobbly right no-oh-ow, mate." These words he almost spits angrily, and after that, he lets out a dry chuckle while terror overtakes his face in drastic contrast to how he's trying to come across. "I know you're there, so stop being bloody daft and speak to me, Spec'or."

He sobs, although there's something rough in that sentence. Strong desire taints his brittle voice, a desire to be heard, to be reassured. He's shaking uncontrollably as he tries to find his bearings, staring but not seeing a single thing at the moment. His shoulders are achingly tight, he makes a notice of the fact, and he's pretty sure his pulse is very much visible on his neck since he feels his heart hammering even in that lone vein that's always present on his forehead, especially when his blood pressure rises.

"Love, please, come back to me, I-i don't want to be alone, I don't-"

Hey, hey, Steve, calm down, a gentle voice, a polar opposite to the one that the outer world around them can hear, rings in their head as Marc makes himself present again, happy thoughts, buddy, c'mon.

"Happy thoughts my arse, I'm dying over here, you prick," Steven grumbles, "where were you?"

Well, I would've been right next to you all that time if somebody hadn't blocked me out, now wouldn't I? Marc rubs his alter's nose in it, his voice light to indicate he's simply messing with him. We do need to talk about that, by the way, he adds slightly more sternly, not cool, making me black out completely and wake up wherever without my ID and stuff.

"Come again?" The other wastes no time and jeers, almost hissing at him.

If they were separated at that moment, he would see the corners of Marc's lips drop from a friendly smile to a flat, thin line, silently awaiting his inevitable comeback.

"Walked a mile in my shoes and decided they're not comfy, now that YOU disliked it?" Steven huffs theatrically before he adds, "Tell me about it."

Steven has this one weird hallmark that Marc can't make up his mind about. It's the way he involuntarily uses sarcasm to cope with stress-inducing or appalling situations. Whenever he felt overwhelmed, one snarky comment after another would slip through his mouth in an attempt to make himself appear bigger than his opponent, whether it be a person or the overall atmosphere created around him. And for the most part, Marc liked it and encouraged this behaviour even, seeing how it helped his alter stand his ground and gain the confidence he needed to get himself back a sense of comfort. It was some type of self-defence, a verbal equivalent of wrapping arms around himself.

But at moments like this one, Marc truly hated this cheeky tone. They are out somewhere in - he hoped - the outskirts of London in the middle of the night, Steven is visibly shaken to his core, panic keeping him hostage to their body so he can't hide from the physical pain the sudden distress is causing him, and Marc can't do anything due to being quite literally imprisoned in their collective mind. It's a lose-lose situation since even though Steven tries to stand up for his own good, therefore making a room for calming down, their corporeal form can still be very much responsive to the effects anxiety has on it, which includes but is not limited to clenched jaw, dizziness related to oxygen debt that short sharp breaths cannot pay, as well as trembling and cold sweats. Marc has memorised the full catalogue of symptoms a long time ago, down to the least severe one, however, it didn't really matter because when Steven was the one experiencing them, the American was helpless. He could only try to talk him down to a point where the British lad cooperates and gives up the control. And that's exactly what he does now. In his own way.

Watch your tongue, dude, before I wave your salty attitude goodbye and leave you be.

"No!" Steven yells at gut level, pushing his arms in front of him defensively and bending his knees a little as if wanting to stay close to the ground, pushing the air before him. It makes Marc wonder how that must look for a random passer-by. "Please, stay, it wasn't intentional," he adds shily, "Feel like I'm about to suffocate, it bloody hurts."

Fearing his words aren't enough, Steven puts one hand on his billowing chest while a grimace of utter agony is making its way to his face and watery eyes.

I know, I know. Marc hushes him with a gentle voice. I need you to calm down just enough for you to allow the switch, baby, can you do it for me? he asks and without thinking, Steven nods his head furiously before closing his eyes in order to initiate their 'panic attack' routine. Marc wishes he could see his alter in any type of reflection; preferably a mirror, but right at this moment even the tiniest puddle would do just fine.

Like that, breathe in and breathe out.

"Will you count with me?"

Of course, Spector vows without skipping a beat. One...

Steven does what he's told, and breathes as slowly as he can, counting on his own from five to one on each in-breath, inhaling with his nose and exhaling with his mouth.

Two...

He audibly acknowledges the panic and repeats to himself that it will soon pass and cause no physical harm to him, or Marc.

It always catches the other alter off guard, the fact that even during the scariest attack he still thinks of him, cares for him and puts his wellbeing first as an incentive to get better. It truly warms the former mercenary's heart; gives him the strength to fight both of their fights every single day, because it's worth it- all the pain, and all the struggle is worth the everlasting affection the other guy seems to feel toward him.

Five...

Steven's fingertips brush over the soft fabric of a hoodie, up to the small cleavage on his chest where his butterscotch skin stings a little underneath Magen David necklace, and not even a second after finding it, he closes the little star in his fist, with his thumb still caressing golden chain. He focuses on how it feels, the tiniest metal rings entwined; so fragile, so beautiful, so solid and perfect as individuals, yet only whole when combined together.

Seven...

As he's slowly re-attaching to reality, he takes another step toward inner peace, tensing up the muscle in his calf, holding the tension for a few seconds, and relaxing it right after. The whole body feels sore but it doesn't stop Steven from stretching it even more. He needs this kind of pain as proof of the fact that he's real, he's there. Ironically, this is the moment Marc chooses as the weak spot to slip through to the front. He doesn't mind, tho. Usually a strange sensation of being put in the backseat, this time it only brings relief to his squirmish mind.

Marc blinks his eyes open and clenches both of his fists experimentally. When he's certain Steven gave him full control, he immediately acts on it, looking around him, trying to recognise the place in the darkness, searching for anything and anyone that could give him at least a fracture of a clue of his whereabouts.

'M sorrey I legged it, Marc.

"It's okay, you got scared away," he reassures with the gentlest voice he could maintain at the moment, "happens to all of us. You did great calming yourself, buddy."

He squints his eyes and there's a faint sight of a male figure far before him. Without any sign of hesitation, he takes a step forward in the man's direction while still actively listening to Steven babbling in his head.

It doesn't happen to you, though, yeah? Grant inquires, to which Marc hums nonchalantly, tilting his head slightly to the left at the same time as he lifts his left arm in a shrug as if Steven could see him be the embodiment of not being convinced by the words. You don't get scared away. You're always deliberate.

Marc presses the tips of his fingers up against the tip of his tongue and curls his tongue back to whistle the stranger up. When he finally approaches him, they have a quick chat during which he's told his exact coordinates, and then quickly thanks the elder Englishman, already calculating the fastest route back to their apartment. Turns out Steven has gifted them an hour-long walk home.

"After your first homicide, nothing really scares you off anymore, I guess." He points that out a bit early, he reckons when he sees the poor Mister's eyes widen at his words and hears the taps of his cane speed up as he rapidly walks away from him. The brunet doesn't pay much attention to that, giving only a lazy headshake in response to that. Then he turns the opposite way and starts walking with his hands shoved down the front pockets of their pyjama pants.

Nah, that's not it, Steven chimes in afresh, I killed, yet I'm not even close to what you have going on in your wicked heart.

At that, Marc raises an eyebrow in sudden interest, with a light-hearted smile forming on his lips.

"Now hang on, baby, who'd you kill?" he asks as he's guiding his hand to his head so he can thread his fingers through his hair, only to be met with a hat band partly placed on his forehead instead of soft locks.

These lost souls in the Duat? An obvious answer comes right after and Steven pauses dramatically before he tops his statements off with some details. The ones trying to claim yours, remember them?

"Hm," Spector nods slowly, scratching his nose with the knuckle of his index finger, "is it really a true homicide when they're already quite, you know, dead?" He remarks, clearly winding Steven up. Steven swallows it easily.

Remind me to never save your barmy arse ever again. Happy drowning in the eternal sands next time or whatever.

It makes Marc snort with laughter while crossing the street. He's grateful it seemed to be too late for other citizens to go on some nightly adventures, leaving the two of them able to enjoy their company without having to worry someone might see them laughing to themselves and think they're freaks.

"We're not done putting your anxiety back on a leash yet, buddy. You know the drill."

Suppress the madness, embrace the trifles?

"The spotlight's yours."

Steven groans dramatically inside his head, but obeys nonetheless, sighing in exasperation before he starts listing things they've done that day that he appreciated and was grateful for. The other alter only hums quietly, or nods, or makes some silly little sounds which the point of was to imply he was listening carefully to every word Steven got to say.

Darkness is well settled around them the whole time, deepening shadows making it a city of ghosts with them being nothing more than intruders as Marc carries the body back to their apartment. The moon is abnormally large that night, though almost fully hidden behind thick storm-grey clouds, as if craving to bathe the earth with its luminous glow but failing miserably. It's a pretty standard night, yet Marc feels like something's off. The air is dense on his tongue when he slips it out to lick his dry lips, it's unsettlingly gloomy, and he swears he can hear faint whispers overlapping one another.

...Surrender...

He pulls the beanie harder on his head, additionally covering it with the hood of his zip-up, then he puts his clenched fists in the pockets of a never-seen-before jacket, and subconsciously increases his speed when he feels trembling breaths too close to his ears, almost inside of his head.

There are two times when he trips over his own two feet, maybe three. Whatever it was making him feel uneasy, he wasn't threatened by it, that he knew for sure. It's just a strong sensation of something creeping its way into his mind, crawling on the smooth skin of his neck like a predator awaiting its prey.

Needless to say, he makes it back home in thirty-eight minutes instead of sixty, cautiously glancing over his shoulder while pressing the key to their apartment to a small sensor above the entryphone to the building they live in. His defence instincts are kicking in but he does everything within his power not to make it obvious to Steven as it goes without saying that the brit has already had enough of anxiety for one day. For example, he locks the door with only four locks out of seven that they own, a perfect amount for a calm man with nothing to be worried about. The fifth one would be the alarming one.

"Oy, Steven, how are we feelin' about tomorrow's shift?" As Marc asks that out loud, he also checks the time on the clock above the extractor hood in the kitchen. "Uh, more like today's shift...", he adds, a muscle in his jaw twitching upon the realization that the night was almost over, the 7 o'clock alarm dangerously nearing the time set for their morning call. He exhales lingeringly before his glare falls on the illuminated fish tank, where he meets Gus #1, Gus #2 and a pinched-faced reflection of his alter, chewing on the inside of his cheek and staring back at him sorrowfully. Marc already knows what he'll hear in a minute, and it takes straining a few muscles for him not to physically lower his head. Instead, he nods collectedly, though he feels his heart sink deep in his gut.

I can tr-

"I'll go."

They smile at each other softly, their eyes drooping in a contrast to this little gesture. Marc moves his arm up to the glass for the sake of comforting Steven, and gently brushes his knuckles over the other one's cheek. They both know Steven can't really experience this touch, but they won't admit it, rather preferring to live in the sweet sweet bubble of denial.

"Hey, Steve," the alter controlling the body purrs softly, his voice just a tad louder than a whisper, only wanting to catch the other's attention. He doesn't need to repeat himself, Steven's already boring him with his curious gaze. "s'okay, you know," he says, "we're okay."

The right corner of Marc's lips shifts slightly upwards when he notices Grant close his eyes right after he nodded at the sound of his reassuring words. He's not the type to talk openly about his feelings and stuff like that, but he was grateful Steven was so responsive to him, so expressive with every emotion that he caused him. After Marc and Layla officially parted ways, Steven was the only person to be there for him and be the one he could be there for. The brit allowing him to take care of him, and caring for him was the epitome of domesticity he desired so badly. Steven was his home. And even if that home was broken and fractured at the time, so what? It's still beautiful.

"Wanna play Tic-Tac-Toe?" He offers casually and immediately goes to find some loose piece of paper shoved somewhere between the pages of one of the books swaying at the edge of a desk, along with a pen.

Steven doesn't surprise him with his response, always eager to play games.

Would be lovely, yeah.

Not even a minute later Marc settles their shared body in a chair at the desk in front of a window. He draws a simple 3 squares by 3 squares grid and lets Steven go first as they swap control of their hand so each of them can make a move when their turn comes. It's peaceful, and it's cosy with their little chuckles cutting the silence between them from time to time and Arabic trap music playing in the background.

Neither of them really notices when they fall asleep. Steven drifts away first, prepping Marc with his voice gradually losing volume until he can't be heard anymore, leaving the control in the palm of Marc's hand. Marc smiles under his nose upon the feeling of Steven's calmness, and he doesn't even get to put the pen away before he's gone into the arms of sweet unconsciousness, too, still sitting in a chair, sleeping with his head and one of his hands on the table, while the other one shifts on its own in a few trying moves. Surrender bleeds with scarlet ink staining the white paper as the pen writes the word in calligraphy style.

...Mom! Mom! M-...

Quiet boyish cries asking for help ring in his ears prior to the reality around him cutting to black.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It's not canon, I know, but I kinda liked the idea of the whole universe hearing Wanda's boys, so I decided to put it out there. A little warning from the Darkhold that the Scarlet Witch has awakened as the queen that she's meant to be? Anyways, let me know what you think of the story so far :).

NEXT CHAPTER -->

#dreaming with the witch #moon knight fic #Moon Knight #the scarlet witch fic #scarlet witch fic #marc spector #Steven Grant #wanda maximoff #marc spector x wanda maximoff #marcsteven

29 notes · View notes

ilovewhiteroses · 2 years ago

Text

I posted 57 times in 2022

That's 57 more posts than 2021!

11 posts created (19%)

46 posts reblogged (81%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@thecorilove86

@boydholbrookfanpage

@ionlyjoinedforboydholbrook

@ithinkwehitametaphor

@placeinthemiddleofnowhere

I tagged 56 of my posts in 2022

Only 2% of my posts had no tags

#boyd holbrook - 37 posts

#sandman - 21 posts

#the corinthian - 19 posts

#💕💕 - 6 posts

#❤️❤️ - 3 posts

#charlie hunnam - 2 posts

#playlist - 2 posts

#100% agree - 2 posts

#preacher - 2 posts

#same - 2 posts

Longest Tag: 106 characters

#i would be a terrible employee in an office because i would be daydreaming of this beautiful man - all day

My Top Posts in 2022:

Feeling like sh*t, but at least my buddy is here to comfort me

3 notes - Posted November 29, 2022

You cast a spell on me – Part 2.

Pairing: The Corinthian x Female Witch Reader

Genre: Fluff, Smut

Warnings: mentions of violence; horror and adult themes

Rating: 18+

Notes: - I did some research on The Corinthian’s backstory in the Dreaming, so I could write it as accurate as possible.

PART 1. HERE

"Ouch" you said as another stabbing pain shot through you. You are a witch, of course, but you are also a woman who has to deal with an unpleasant visitor every month. You hated these days, you always felt like shit: your uterus hurt and you always wanted to cry. To alleviate your condition, you ate lasagna and chocolate in your bed while watching Moonlighting on your TV. You loved old TV shows - like The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air, The Nanny, Married with Children - because they reminded you of your childhood.

You have had quite a busy week. You went to a family gathering at your parents' beach house which has a beautiful view to the ocean; you had lunch with your publisher, where you outlined your ideas for your new book and chose the best one together; and you had dinner with one of your best friends, Cole, who worked as a photographer. Your exes introduced you to each other a few years ago and people often see you as a couple. Although you thought he was cute there was never more than friendship between you two. Cole knew almost everything about you, except one thing: who you really were. Only your family knew about it.

And since THAT night, The Corinthian, your one night stand.

You could barely concentrated on your tasks for days afterwards. You kept thinking about the mind-blowing sex; you remembered his soft hair, his kissable lips, the sight of his naked body; you felt his hands and mouth on your erogenous zones... You were so immersed in sex with him that you didn't even think of using protection, even though your previous partners all wore condoms. But you didn't panic, being a modern witch, you had a birth control potion that you made when you were 18 years old and you had to drink it within 72 hours after sex.

When you weren't thinking about his skills in bed, you were thinking about other things. You wondered what he has been doing, where does he live, if he lives anywhere at all. And does he sleep? He said he has tiny teeth where his eyes are, does he eat with them? How many people’s beds he had been in and how many of them did he kill? You felt sorry for his victims, you only hoped that he kills bad people like Dexter Morgan. But of course that's none of your business and you'd better stay out of it.

At this moment, your phone suddenly buzzed. You received a text message that said:

Hey Y/N! What's up? How is work goin'? 🕶️🦷👄🦷

You didn't have to think much, the emojis gave away who the sender of the text was, which honestly surprised you. The morning after your night together, before Corinthian left your home, he asked for your number. At first you thought about a fake phone number, but in the end you gave your own, because you knew he won't call you anyway.

As if he sensed that you were thinking of him. You got so excited that you even forgot about the pain in your lower stomach. Suddenly you didn't know what to do, text him back or call him. In the end, you decided on the second option because you wanted to hear his sexy, deep voice. You pressed the call button.

"Hello there, sexy witch! How you doin'?" Corinthian said into the phone in a seductive voice

Oh my God, his voice was invented for phone sex, you thought.

"Hi! Nothing special, I'm just resting, watching TV." you said in a light voice. "And what about you?"

"I'm relaxing. I thought of you and I thought I'd send you a text. How is writing going?" he asked with interest.

Not only did he texted to you, but he also remembered that you were a writer. Your heart began to melt at the thought.

"Well, I'm about to start writing my new book. Basic Instinct was the inspiration for it, but in my version, the man is a supernatural killer and the female character is the cop."

"I love that movie." Corinthian growled. That didn't surprise you. Paul Verhoeven's 1992 film was a great mix of erotica and thriller.

What you didn't tell him is that he inspired your male character. Of course, not the killer part, but his looks and his huge sex drive.

"That sounds great. I'll read it as soon as it comes out, but first I will sign it with you." he said kindly, You twisted your hair like a teenage girl and promised him that you would sign his copy.

"Look Y/N, I called you not only for that, but to ask...would you like to meet next Saturday? We could go for lunch or a walk." Corinthian asked.

Your heart was beating so fast you thought it would jump out of place. Of course you said yes to the invitation. Since he already knew where you live, you arranged for him to pick you up at 1 o’clock and then you wished each other good night.

Is this going to be a date or am I just trying to make myself believe that? you asked yourself. By next Saturday, your period will be over and no matter what, you'll have to wear something hot. You will take your birth control potion in a small bottle with you, because it's obvious that he invited you out with that intention. You couldn't wait for the week to pass...

The long-awaited Saturday has arrived. Not only did you start writing your new book this week, but you also made yourself to be even more desirable. You bought new sexy lingerie, went to a beauty salon for a pampering massage and had French manicure done on your nails.

You wore white shorts, a red halter neck top and black high-heeled sandals for the meeting. You looked at the clock in the living room. It’s going to be 1 in 10 minutes, so you left and waited for Corinthian outside on the sidewalk in front of your house. While you were waiting, you wondered what kind of car he might have. You could imagine an old, classic one for him, you thought that modern cars were not his style.

See the full post

4 notes - Posted December 12, 2022

Serious question:

I have been wondering for a while, why people call The Corinthian ‘babygirl’? Because when I see him I think “you hot nightmare” and “I’m going to climb you like a tree”

5 notes - Posted November 22, 2022

You cast a spell on me

Pairing: The Corinthian x Female Witch Reader

Genre: Smut

Warnings: horror and adult themes

Rating: 18+

Notes: - This is my first fanfic, I have never written one before. - This post from @thecorilove86 was my main inspiration, plus I had time and I was in the mood for it so I thought I give it a shot. - Back in the day I was a huge fan of Charmed and that inspired me to write Reader as a modern day witch. - The inspiration for reader's apartment

PART 2. HERE

You are a witch in your 30s, living in Los Angeles and working as a fantasy writer. You went to a bar one night and You met The Corinthian there. You asked him his name, but he didn't tell You, so You didn’t tell him Yours either. Regardless, you found eachother attractive and after chatting a little bit, you decided to go to Your place…

”Would you like to drink something?” you asked your guest.

"Didn't we just come from a bar?" chuckled the handsome man with sunglasses while he took off his beige suit jacket and placed it on the bar stool in the kitchen.

"Well, I was just being polite," you said embarrassed, then took out two elegant drinking glasses from the kitchen cabinet and poured whiskey into them. You felt weird. You are usually confident with men, but your guest made you feel like you were a teenager on a date with your crush and didn't know how to behave.

"I leave it up to you. By the way, where do I find the bathroom?”

"Next to the stairs to the right"

"Thanks"

While the man left for the bathroom, you went to his jacket and started searching in it. You knew it was wrong and you would never do such a thing, but your witch instincts told you something was wrong with the guy and you better find out what it was.

And you were right.

You found a sharp knife in the inside pocket of his jacket. You were scared at first, but weren't surprised, because to tell the truth, you had already guessed at the bar that there was something else behind the hot looks. You have been in dangerous situations before, but thanks to your supernatural abilities you always survived. If this man were to attack you, you would fly him to the other end of the room with one hand movement or teleport the knife out of his hand. Still, you wanted to know his intentions. You didn't want to interrogate him like a policewoman, since after all you brought him to your apartment to have fun, so you put a little truth potion in one of the glasses of whiskey, which makes even the best liar tell the truth. When your guest returned to the kitchen, you handed him the whiskey, he sipped it and slowly began to walk around your apartment. You joined him and waited for the potion to work. The man looked at your home curiously. After the kitchen came the dining room, then a cozy living room with an L-shaped sofa and an electric fireplace, which you loved because you didn't have to cut wood for it. Your furniture was in silver and cream colours because you didn't like the dark ones.

Modern, sexy and elegant. This place is just like you, the handsome blond thought to himself. You also drank from the drink and in the meantime you wondered if the truth potion has worked, so you started asking questions. "You didn't tell me your name at the bar, but I'm curious. Who are you, what's your name?"

"My name is The Corinthian and I am a nightmare. Sandman made me and I escaped from The Dreaming so I could finally do what I wanted." the man said with complete confidence.

"Sandman? Who sprinkles magical sand onto people's eyes so they have pleasant dreams?” you asked surprised.

"Yes."

Not human. So that's why he had such an effect on you. "And what do you do?" you asked, then downed most of your drink.

"I'll sleep with anyone who's available at the moment, and I'll kill them if I have to." Corinthian said all this as naturally as if he was talking about the weather.

Although the drink already had a pleasant effect on you, Corinthian's brutal honesty affected you as if you had been hit by a car, but you tried not to show it. There were many things on your mind, but you could only ask one thing.

"Do you want to kill me too?" you asked

"Not if you don't give me a reason," Corinthian said suggestively as he sipped his drink.

As Corinthian looked at you, even though no harm could come to you, you felt both fear and desire. It's true that the man just confessed to being a murderer, but at the same time he's insanely handsome, you thought to yourself. Even though you were the witch, he cast a spell on you. There was something in him, in his being, in his aura... You had always been attracted to men with darker hair, and now you were faced with a blond guy who could pass for a model, and whose sunglasses made him even more mysterious and irresistible.

Danger and Sex. You could best describe the man with these two words. Before your thoughts wandered to some naughtier places, you continued the conversation.

"I have to tell you something: I'm not human either, I'm a witch." you confessed.

Corinthian raised an eyebrow, you couldn't tell if he liked the answer or not.

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14 notes - Posted December 9, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

The comparison of The Corinthian and Cassidy

Hello there! I hope everyone is doing fine! In this post I looked at the similarities and differences between The Corinthian from Netflix's Sandman and Proinsias Cassidy from AMC's Preacher (they are originally from DC comics). I did this because I love both men and I thought it would be interesting to take a little closer examination at them 😀

DISCLAIMER: This post features mentions of violence, horror and adult themes so do not read it if you are under 18! Also, spoilers for both shows.

NOTES: - I never read the comics, this post is about the show version of the characters (as it is mentioned above). - Keep in mind that these are my views and opinions therefore they may differ from yours. - I didn't go into depths, I wrote in general terms. - At the end of the post I listed the sources that I used and helped me in this writing. - The most important: All this was written for simple fun, please, no mean comments! 😇

THE STORY: Sandman: Morpheus, the personification of dreams and one of the seven Endless, is captured in an occult ritual in 1916. After being held captive for 106 years, Dream escapes and sets out to restore order to his realm, the Dreaming.

Preacher: Jesse Custer is a hard-drinking, chain-smoking preacher who, enduring a crisis of faith, becomes infused with an extraordinary power. He embarks on a quest to better understand his new gift and literally find God, alongside his trigger-happy ex-girlfriend, Tulip, and new vampire friend, Cassidy.

THE ACTORS: Boyd Holbrook: American actor known for Narcos, Logan, The Predator. Joe Gilgun: English actor known for Misfits, This Is England, Brassic.

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21 notes - Posted November 25, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review

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aliatori · 3 years ago

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*bangs fists on table* PLAYLIST PLAYLIST PLAYLIST. What are your top five tracks and why?

Five. FIVE? OUT OF 167 TOTAL SONGS IN THE EXTENDED MUSIC VERSE? You realize this is like, an impossible question. 🤣🤣 But I will play by the rules and give you five—though I refuse to rank them so you can consider them all of equal rank. Short answer: Between Wind and Water by Hael Breath by Ex Makina Blackest Hand by Saint Mesa Everybody Bleeds the Same by Kerli Bloodsport by Raleigh Ritchie

Pure coincidence that they almost all start with ‘b’. ‘Why’ under the cut for length (natch) and Fate and Furor spoilers.

Between Wind and Water

This song over the past year has become my peak soft!Hubriel song (for a given value of soft—vulnerable, I think, would be more accurate). The first time it popped up on the playlist, I listened to it on repeat for more hours than I am willing to assign a value to and just Had Emotions All Over The Place. The ‘stare into space, feel overwhelmed from head to toe, make choked noises of wistful longing’ kinds of emotions. In addition to the actual instrumental parts having this compelling, complex rhythm, the vocals on this track are really beautiful and full of such yearning.

The lyrics, of course, are on point as well. I’m in trouble now being such a key refrain of the verses was one of the first things that struck me, and it’s such a Gab and Hugo mood. There are so many reasons them getting together is, objectively, a bad idea, everything from complicating the Squall’s hierarchy to complex and difficult power dynamics to the general culture of the fold. But they fall into it anyway, and what I really love is that even though it’s slotted in the early Hubriel days—and definitely, the ‘I’m catching feelings and I am so fucked’ mood is most prevalent there—you can as easily look at this through a Fate and Furor lens and find a lot of mileage too.

And the chorus of this? YIKES. FULL EMOTIONAL DESTRUCTION. Neither Gab nor Hugo do anything by halves, and I love that the chorus alludes to being out of control but unable to stop yourself from upping the intensity. Implying the other person strips them of their defenses? Another Hubriel mood.

What really tipped this over for me, though… It was only a few months ago I learned that ‘between wind and water’ is both a nautical term and an idiom. And sorry, but ‘any point particularly susceptible to attack or injury’ basically describes Hugo and Gab’s relationship. Through all the years, through everything, they have been between wind and water. But as the chorus implies: they’re not capable of stopping it, and every attempt just sinks them further in.

Breath

I got so spoiled on my birthday with Hubriel content and I’m so glad this song was a part of the gift. I remember being on the train the first listen through, and then I blinked and several hours of daydreaming had passed. This song, more than any other song, I consider the quintessential Gab song, particularly in the context of Gab and Xeheia’s relationship.

The bluster, the arrogance, the brashness—those are all absolutely parts of Gab, and ones I love dearly. But beneath all the Bad Man Hot, there’s definitely a vulnerability that doesn’t get shown often at all, and I think Breath captures that perfectly. He loves as hard as he fights, and his love and faith for Xeheia are such an integral part of his character; this song evokes such immersive yearning. Peak moody maritime vibes. (;

The second I heard this song, the entire scene with Xeheia and Gab in Fate and Furor wrote itself. I listened to it compulsively on repeat as I drafted and edited it.

AND FINALLY, SIX MONTHS LATER (SORRY LOL) I can talk about why it grabbed me so hard from the jump with the opening lyrics of ‘speak your truth—they already know’. Even as far back as November I knew that the lead up to Gab finally meeting with ACTUAL Xeheia again would be a lot of hard conversations: with the fold, with his crew, and especially with Hugo. And immediately in my head, I just interpreted that as a Xeheia to Gab sentiment. Her return faith in him—that she shares with Hugo, meme jokes be damned—that he’s capable of doing this, that they know what he feels is true and he should embrace it.

And the look on your face was here in every sound routinely messes me up real good from this song. My favourite interpretation of this is Xeheia to Gab, expressing she was always with him.

Still your mind, there’s oceans below/Raise your sail and then let go – This lyric perfectly encompasses Gab’s ascension – his TRUE ascension as Xeheia’s scion, not Patriarch, and I love that it could be interpreted to refer to the depths.

And, it doesn’t hurt that this song fits perfectly for post-Carnage Xeheia too. <3

Blackest Hand

OH MY GOD. I had to interrogate my motives for picking this as one of the five to make sure it wasn’t just ‘FINALLY, THE CONTEXT IS MADE CLEAR’, but no, honestly, this is the quintessential Hugo song to go with the Gab version in ‘Breath’. (And pairs with ‘Throne’ on the Gab playlist I made). Obviously Saint Mesa is a Certified F&F Artist, so I had to have one of his songs on there, and this is definitely the one for the five.

Usually even when plotting I go from beginning to end, but with Fate and Furor, I knew all the ending scenes and worked backwards. (Don’t ask me about my act 3 rework, I beg you). So for almost an entire year, I have been sitting on my hands with the context of this song. LIKE. I’m screaming into my fist right now.

Every single lyric in this song maps to something in F&F much like every lyric in Breath maps to something. I’ve been all the cold, see me: I took this as more as a metaphorical sort of cold, both in demeanour and being on the outside. I’ve been in the world, see me: Obvious allusions to Hugo’s widespread worldly experience with all his different roles. I’ve been coming short, breathin’: I love a good drowning callback. I’ve been killing my demons: the navy, the fold (metaphorically), Izod. I’m a second chance, see me: Both references to Hugo’s relationships with Gab and Xeheia and his legendary survivability. I’m a dead romance, see me: … too soon? But also metaphorically. I’m the blackest hand, beating: Needs no explanation. I’m the biggest man, bleeding: Don’t we all know it? EVEN THE BRIDGE!!! Light my face up: I knew The Traitor’s Gaze would be destroyed in the final chapter, and I knew it would go out in a blaze of glory with the iddy bonus of Hugo getting temporary glowy eyes. Drip down the bluff: You know, storming on the cliffs of Watcher’s Cove Crack open the mountain: ALMOST LIKE A CERTAIN MOUNTAINSIDE CRUMBLING AROUND HUGO AND GAB And call out your son: LIKE, HELLO?? I love that this can be read two ways in context of the final scenes – calling out Gab as Xeheia’s chosen son, or calling out Hugo, who used to be Xeheia’s son too

Is the refrain of ‘the blackest hand’ a bit on the nose? Perhaps. Do I think it’s fucking stellar anyway? Yes.

Everybody Bleeds the Same

Kerli is another artist who has massive F&F vibes and who is on most of the playlists so I knew I wanted one Kerli song, and this one is definitely it.

This song is like… my favourite complicated messy late game Hubriel feelings. The entire first verse is basically a chapter 12 and 13 mood. Every wound is salty, every memory scarred came for my whole entire throat, as does forgive me, I’m a failure when it comes to your heart.

I don’t have as much detailed analysis for this one as I have for some of the other ones. What I love the most about it is like… Gabriel and Hugo, by the end, have both reached some level of acceptance of their history? We cannot take back the damage we’ve caused/We cut too close and we push too far could be about the literal events of Fate and Furor and about the entire Hubriel relationship tbh.

To me, this song is about the acknowledgement that they’re both hurting and hurt, that they’ve both made mistakes, but in the end – they’re in it together, flaws and mistakes and all.

Bloodsport

If Between Wind and Water is my vulnerable!Hubriel anthem, Bloodsport is and has been my contentious!Hubriel anthem.

This gives me all the emotions for different reasons than Between Wind and Water. This is like… the unique amalgamation of hate and love and hate to love that makes Hubriel so delicious to me and why I love them so much? There’s a lot of allusions to a tough history in this song (And though you hate me, when you have a turn/I drive you crazy but you always return) as well as loving each other through that tough history (Although you love me, sometimes we’re mean/Things can get ugly but we’re still a team)

Knowing how the last couple chapters of Fate and Furor went, the I am all yours, I am unmanned/I’m on all fours, willingly damned pre-chorus has gotten me good for the better part of a half a year… you know, since literally both of them are on all fours and willingly ready to damn themselves for each other at the end. (‘:

And like… I’ve got your back, and though it’s stacked against us/I’ve got your hand, it’s us against consensus speaks a lot to the entirety of Fate and Furor tbh. Neither Gab nor Hugo’s people are fully onboard with what they’re doing, or even partially, but even though they fight and argue about it, they have each other’s back in the end against impossible odds.

Anyway, what I'm trying to say is I'll protect you til the day I meet my maker/So don't fight me now cause you might need me later – I swear this line came up in discussions elsewhere between us, but it gets me every single time, especially with the full scope of the plotty part of their story done. What I love is that this could equally be read from Hugo or Gab’s perspective; both of them are fiercely protective of each other (no one gets to hurt/kill you but me energy), and both of them have needed each other at integral parts in their journey.

Thanks for asking and for humoring me, because I could easily talk this much about every song on all these playlists, not just these five. <3 <3 <3

#the forsaken and the forsworn #hubriel #ali answers

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wordsnstuff · 5 years ago

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Guide To Writing Historical Fiction

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Know The Period Well

When writing a story that takes place during a time you have no primary experience with, it’s important to do your research and not only be able to recall facts but be able to apply historical context to the plot. It’s especially important to consider diversity in period pieces and avoid whitewashing your cast, even if your story is set in a historically white place. The most obvious offender of this is England, but there were many people of color in premodern England that are completely underrepresented in modern fiction about the time.

Balance Drama and Accuracy

Realistically, you’re not writing a school report. There are corners you can cut in order to prioritize the plot and characterization over textbook accuracy. However, if you’re going to misrepresent something, be elegant and intentional about it. Make sure that the moment is worth it and that it serves you to do so. Convenience is not a reason to not do your due diligence.

Readers Will Find Errors, No Matter What

Accept that some readers will not understand that the nature of fiction is not to teach them about non-fictional things. There will be nitpickers, history buffs, “intellectuals”, and internet warriors who take it upon themselves to find and scrutinize every inaccuracy. You cannot avoid it, no matter how careful you are. Remember that your job is to entertain and provoke thought. Leave textbook writing to those who get paid for it.

Be Specific With Time and Place

Being vague about where and when your story is taking place may relieve you of heavy research about specifics, but it will take away from the reader’s experience, and that should always be your priority. People have prior knowledge about time periods and locations, so use that to your advantage. The more specific you are, the less work you have to do in order to create a world in which your characters can exist. Of course, you have to paint the picture, but at least this way you won’t have to design it.

Time and Place Shapes Your Character

Do not place contemporary people in a different time and location, put them in a corset and expect your reader to be immersed in that historical setting. Most of your work in characterizing for this genre will be contemplating what context and circumstances will shape your characters and how that will manifest in the way they think, feel, and behave. Place emphasis on this part of the process, because no matter how well you paint the background, it will be ruined if you have stick figures all over it.

It’s Gonna Take A While

Think about how long it takes to research a history paper versus how long it takes to draft. It’s the same with historical fiction. You will spend about 30% more time in the planning stage than you will in the writing stage. If you don’t have a passion or at least an interest in history, this genre is not for you. There’s no shortcut and there’s no way around it.

Common Struggles

Believable dialogue… Your writing style is your business, and the density of your writing style should usually go hand in hand with the intensity of the dialogue. If you’re writing a historical fiction in a modern voice, don’t break that up with extremely dense dialogue with vocabulary that the reader will have to pick apart. A happy medium, no matter the density of your narration, is usually a safe bet, where it evokes a time period but doesn’t directly copy it. This makes it clearly understandable by the reader but doesn’t destroy their suspension of disbelief amongst denser or lighter narration.

Little details… Guess and check. This is what editing is for. Well, that and nailing the historical voice, but that’s another issue for another time. If you’re on a roll on your first or second draft, don’t open google and agonize over one detail. Have someone more knowledgeable look over it later or do more research in the interim between writing and editing and then check yourself during the next stage.

Vocabulary… This is, again, a guess and check sort of thing. Finish the draft in a way that is clear above accurate and then highlight the words and phrases you’re unsure of before going through and checking each one. Again, you’ll spend more time editing than writing with this genre for this very reason.

Historical Norms… My best advice for getting a feel of what life was and wasn’t like during a certain time period and in a specific area is to read other texts that are reliably accurate and set/about the same time and place. It’s an easy way to get accustomed to the setting as the writer and eventually visualize that place when you’re writing it.

Retelling versus implementing… It’s really easy to lose sight of that line between setting your plot amongst a historical event and making that historical event the plot. I’d say a good way to make sure you’re not writing a narrative textbook is make a timeline of each scene in your draft and if more than 40% of your story centers around a historical event and the ins-and-outs of it rather than the fictional events within the plot, then you’re probably going a little heavy on the history.

Medicine/Technology… I’m not necessarily well-versed in historical medicine or technology but I do know that @inky-duchess can offer quite a few resources on medicine and that regarding technology throughout history, just write your first draft and then go back and fact check. Highlight technological inventions that are mentioned in the text and check that they were already in use at that time.

Other Resources

Resources For Writing Period Pieces: High Middle Ages & Renaissance

Resources For Writing Period Pieces: 1600s

Resources For Writing Period Pieces: 1700s

Resources For Writing Period Pieces: 1800s

Resources For Writing Period Pieces: 1900-1939

Resources For Writing Period Pieces: 1940-1969

Resources For Writing Period Pieces: 1970-1999

Things To Listen To When You’re Working

Useful Writing Resources

Useful Writing Resources II

Resources For Worldbuilding

Resources For Plot Development

Writing About Another Era

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thatgamefromthatad · 4 years ago

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Mobile Game Review - Helix Waltz (Recommended by @raimi)

🎻 What is this app? Helix Waltz is a dress up game with an elaborate storyline that heavily involves character interactions. On the App Store it’s described as a “thrilling ballroom drama set in Baroque style dress,” which I think accurately reflects the sort of vintage European court-style setting the game takes place in. The setting also has fantasy elements, including characters of different “races” such as elves and people with animal ears and tails called Orens.

The game follows a main storyline as well as various side storylines and has a large cast of characters with their own personalities and preferences, all of whom you can build up your relationship with, which will affect their interactions with you depending on the level of favor you have with them. Rather than playing out in a linear set of stages or chapters, the story progresses as you accept and complete missions and attend balls where you have the chance to encounter other characters attending the same ball. There’s a bit of freedom in that sense where you can attend any of the available balls you want and encounter any of the characters that are there without necessarily following the main storyline, building up favor and getting to know anyone you want.

The dress up part is structured somewhat similarly to other dress up games I’ve played - there are various items in different categories (hairstyles, headwear, dresses, shoes, different types of accessories, etc.) with different attributes and rarities that will affect your “chic” level at any ball or other outing you attend, as well as how other characters perceive you depending on their preferences. You can have “beauty contests” with other characters you encounter at balls that compares your outfit’s chic level to theirs and there are other parts of the game where your outfits can compete with others players’. You can gain new dress up items through completing quests and through a gacha-type mechanic where you draw from different sets of potential items.

📝 Review Summary: The sheer number of different characters you can interact with in this game is very impressive, and it’s definitely entertaining getting to know them all and try to build relationships with them. I definitely found myself getting invested in certain characters and wanting to progress through the storyline so I could learn more. The art in this game is also very beautiful, which includes both the character designs and clothing items.

The follower who recommended this game noted that there is queer representation, including a trans character, which is a positive aspect, but I noticed there was not a lot of BIPOC representation, specifically a lack of characters with dark skin and limited options to have dark for your own character. The default character you play is white with very pale skin, and from my understanding from doing a little research, skin color changes are included as makeup items which definitely seems wrong, not only because you have to get your hands on the right item to have darker skin but because skin color as makeup seems to imply blackface, even if that’s completely unintentional (the makeup items in this game aren’t technically just makeup - they also change the shape of facial features). I definitely think this game should add different base skin tones, as well as characters who aren’t all super pale.

Full review below:

***

👍What’s good about this app? The enormous cast of characters in this game and the multi-faceted system involved in gaining favor with them and getting to know them are definitely this game’s biggest assets, in my opinion. Each character has their own unique personality, backstory, style, relationships and role within the in-game society, but what’s really enticing is the fact that the story tends to build up a bit of mystery and intrigue about different characters and families/factions, which motivates you even more to get close with certain NPCs and learn the different secrets they hold. The game is pretty immersive that way in the sense that your goal of building up enough trust and prestige to gain access to the most interesting intel/gossip aligns with the main character’s goal of integrating and positioning herself strategically amidst higher society.

That sense of immersion also comes through in the way the game is structured to allow you to interact pretty freely with the characters rather than following a linear path from one encounter to another. You encounter other characters similarly to how you would if you really were a young noble in this sort of society - by wandering around ballrooms or other settings and seeing who you run into or seeking out those that you already have some level of relationship with. You can even get letters from them! You can choose to follow closely to the main plot, or pick your favorite characters and go out of your way to interact with them, or a mixture of both. This game really focuses around character interactions in a way I’ve never personally seen before, and it’s very impressive - and fun!

Another great aspect of this game is the art, which of course is an important aspect for any dress up game. I’m not very well-versed in fashion in general, but I can say from an average Joe perspective that the clothing items and outfit sets are overall just very pleasing to look at and give me that sort of mouthwatery fashion-p*rn feeling whenever I see some extravagant “look” whether it be from real life, a game or any other sort of media. You could say I’m easily pleased though since I can say that about just about any other dress up game I’ve played or been widely exposed to (Love Nikki, Time Princess etc.). One thing I think is especially cool in this game is the perfume category which I can best describe as creating a kind of animated aura around your character that differs in appearance depending on the perfume. This works well with the fantasy-type setting of the game and gives a little extra magical oomph to the outfits. Other outfit pieces can also be animated, like jewelry that sparkles for example, which is also a nice touch.

The last positive thing I’d like to mention is the theme song of this game that plays in the main menu (and pretty much everywhere else except outings), it’s so beautiful and I love it so much I added it to my Spotify playlist I listen to every day lol. The song is Sans Toi by Sarah Natasha Warne if you’re curious.

In the video below you can see a perfume item in action creating a galaxy-like aura around the character, and hear a short clip of the song as well.

[Video Description: A screen recording showing a fully dressed-up character wearing a luxurious red white and gold robe over an ornate black and white collared top with a red vest and loose-fitting brown pants that have two golden stripes at the end of each pant leg. They are holding a sword, have long blond hair tied in a high-set ponytail that drapes over their left shoulder and have a large, circular golden ornament position behind their head resembling a sun or halo. They are wearing dark stockings and black high heels, and there is a sparkling, swirling aura around them with streams of light changing color from blue to purple flowing toward them. The rest of the character and clothing is still except for jewelry and accessories that sparkle and glow and some golden parts of the clothing that shimmer.]

👎 What’s wrong with this app? There are a few minor flaws with this app such as a glitch(?) I experienced a few times where I was talking with one character and another character suddenly appeared and then disappeared, which I’m pretty sure was a glitch because after it happened for some reason I wasn’t able to complete any of my goals at the ball. Also if you don’t have a great internet connection it can be very frustrating because the game will freeze often, although I can’t criticize this that much since my internet connection just sucks and I’ve experienced this with other games before that are just highly reliant on having a constant internet connection.

Probably my main problem with this game is the lack of diversity in skin tones, both in the cast of characters and in your options for your own character. Like I said there are dozens of characters in this game but from what I’ve seen so far they almost all have pale/light skin. I don’t really think the setting of this game is an excuse considering it’s a fantasy setting and there are definitely characters from different regions or backgrounds but they all just happen to have very light skin. Another reason I think there should definitely be more diversity is that there are definitely themes of racial discrimination in the story - some characters will spout stereotypes and hateful comments about other races, in reference to fantasy races or other social groups in the game, and I’m definitely not saying the targets of those comments should be dark-skinned, I just feel like if you’re going to touch on those subjects but have little to no representation of the people who experience that kind of discrimination in real-life, it seems a bit hypocritical. As a disclaimer I am mixed-race (East Asian and white) and semi-white passing with pale skin so I’m not an authority on the skin tone issue specifically but my opinion as someone reviewing this game is that there’s no reason to not have more diversity in the game, even regardless of whether it involves the themes that I mentioned.

Below is just a handful of the NPCs but as I scrolled through the list pretty much everyone had pale/light skin, Gedanh is the NPC with the darkest skin tone as far as I know:

As far as a lack of diversity in selecting a skin tone for your own character, that didn’t specifically stand out to me at first considering the main character is a pre-established character and not as much of a self-insert as in other games like Time Princess, but the fact that you can change your facial features using “makeup items” and skin tone is also locked to certain makeup items doesn’t seem fair, since it makes whiteness the default and limits darker skin tones to these specific items and corresponding makeup looks. I’m not sure what adding diverse base skin tones would look like from a programming perspective for this game but with everything else this game has going on that is so complex and impressive I feel like there’s not an excuse in this day and age to exclude something as basic as different skin colors.

While the lack of diversity is definitely my biggest criticism of the game, I’ll just add that another flaw is that many aspects of the game can be confusing and despite a pretty lengthy series of tutorial quests that teach you about different parts of the game, I still have some confusion after playing for a while. For example I’m still not even completely sure if winning a beauty contest against a character strengthens your relationship with them, and I had to look at the Helix Waltz wiki to learn how to investigate NPCs’ preferences and exactly how remaking clothes works etc. The wiki and other players are a great resource, but having more guidance in-game, even if it’s in the Help/FAQ section (which I checked and still didn’t have all the info I needed), would be an improvement.

🪞Full list of features (there are a lot but I’ll try to cover them to the best of my ability):

Storyline (main plot, side plots that unlock when you strengthen your relationships with characters and event plots)

Quests (there are quests that go along with the plot or events as well as daily quests. The daily quests are more simple such as “talk to X amount of NPCs” or “attend X amount of balls” while the other quests involve having interactions with specific characters, wearing specific dress up items to certain events, etc.)

Dress up (you dress up for every ball or other outing you attend. Each ball will have a different clothing attribute, such as a certain color or style, that increases your chic points if you wear items with the corresponding tag. Different characters also have style preferences but you need to investigate to find out each character’s preference. In addition to dress up before events, the mirror section of the main interface allows you to make whatever outfit you want with the items you have, which will be the outfit your character wears during scenes outside of outings. There are different categories of items corresponding to different parts of the outfit and for some categories you can wear more than one item from the same category, such as wearing a different bracelet on each wrist)

Balls (this is one of the two main ways you will interact with characters and complete quests. There are a few balls you can choose to attend at any given time, hosted by a specific family or faction, with specific characters attending that you can check before you enter the ball. Once you enter the ball and dress up, you can choose to approach a certain character if that option is available - I think you can only approach characters directly if you’ve already talked to them at the ball or if you are wearing an outfit they like but I’m not sure about that part - or you can choose “wander around” and have the chance to encounter different characters who are attending)

Other outings (in addition to balls there are other places in the game where you can encounter other characters, such as the slum and the tavern, and these outings work similarly to balls in terms of character interactions)

Conversation (for basic conversation you pick from a selection of topics and you can gain favor with a certain character by correctly picking the topic they prefer. There is dialog to read for every conversation although these are stock conversations that repeat so you’ll usually want to just speed through them. When you increase your relationship with a character you can unlock special conversations with them that are more unique and tied to the plot)

Q&A (sometimes a character will ask you a question and depending on if they like your answer it can boost your favor with them)

Beauty contests (while conversing with a character sometimes you can have a beauty contest against them comparing your outfit to theirs, and if you win you get points that I believe go toward earning in-game currency - another thing I’m not 100% sure about. I think you can only have a beauty contest with female characters but there is at least one male character I’ve been able to have a beauty contest with. Sometimes a character will immediately force you into a beauty contest when you encounter them)

Dancing (sometimes when interacting with a character at a ball you’ll have the option to dance with them which opens up a short memory-based minigame. I think completing the minigame correctly yields similar rewards to winning a beauty contest. I think you can only dance with male characters as I’ve never had the option come up with female characters so far)

Gathering intel (intel is a resource in the game that is used to learn more about characters and that can be exchanged with characters for rewards. While wandering around a ball you may have the chance to eavesdrop on characters and gain intel)

Gift Box/gacha mechanic (The Gift Box section of the game is where you can draw from different gacha-type pools for items and resources. Different pools take different currencies and have different sets of items)

Remaking, dyeing and enchanting clothes (you can change the style or color of some clothing items if you collect the right resources, which changes both the item’s outward appearance and attributes that go toward chic points/gaining favor with different characters. You can also enchant clothing items, which changes their appearance and increases their chic points)

Events (there are limited-time events such as events that offer limited-time items/gacha pools and limited-time quests)

Illusion Contests (one way you can compete with other players in the game rather than NPCs. You are given preset clothes items to choose from in order to put together an outfit, and can give the outfit a name. Your outfit is scored based on a voting system where two outfits are shown and players can vote for one or the other. You get rewards based on how many votes you get and you also get rewarded for voting on other outfits)

Championship (another way to compete with others players using your owned items rather than preset items. I have not participated in the championship myself yet but from my understanding you make one outfit to defend against other players challenging you and then make outfits to challenge other players’ defending outfits. The players you have the option to challenge will be the same rank as you so the competition is balanced and I believe this competition is based on the attributes of your items and a theme set for the current championship cycle, a bit more like a NPC beauty contest than the voting-based Illusion Contests.)

⭐️ Overall Rating: 4/5 (this would definitely be a 5/5 game if they fixed the racial diversity issue but it’s unfortunate that a game that’s otherwise so complex and engaging - and has LGBTQ+ representation - drops the ball in this area. I definitely hope they at least add the ability to have different base skin tones in the future.)

I really enjoyed this game so thank you to @raimi for suggesting it! If anyone else has any game review suggestions feel free to send them 🥳

#helix waltz #dress up games #dressup games #mobile games #baroque #full game reviews #fashion games #lgbt characters #game characters #interactive fiction #recommended #court games #fantasy games #game music #image descriptions in alt text #long post

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mitigatedchaos · 4 years ago

Text

Review: SAC_2045

(~3,700 words, 15 minutes)

This post will contain some minor spoilers for SAC_2045.

Summary: You may have thought SAC_2045 was a poor entry in the Ghost in the Shell franchise - actually, it's just intended for younger audiences.

Previously: Standalone Complex 202045:1-4 (superseded)

-☆☆☆-

And what did you think of the remaining episodes of GitS:SAC_2045?

[ @irradiate-space ]

Standalone Complex

There's a certain indescribable feeling associated with Ghost in the Shell: Standalone Complex as a work, an artistic touch related to the director associated with it, independent of other considerations. SAC_2045 has it, which isn't too surprising since Kenji Kamiyama is back.

SAC_2045 is Standalone Complex. For a brief moment, while watching it, I inhabited my pre-2016 personality and outlook. I can't tell you how much that means to me. Since the arrival of streaming I've tended to bingewatch series, but on the first run-through I decided not to bingewatch this one.

If you approach this show as season 4 of Standalone Complex (Solid State Society being season 3), it's underwhelming. Now, viewing it again, it's become obvious that a conventional season 4 of Standalone Complex was never the intent of SAC_2045 to begin with.

For those of you who have delayed until now, the English dub has been uploaded - it released without one due to the pandemic. They bring back a number of the voice actors from the excellent Standalone Complex dub, though having already watched it with subtitles, I didn't feel the need to confirm the dub's quality.

Sustainable War

To properly describe a new theory of war is the same thing as to invent it. While the idea of war as a for-profit industry has been kicked around for some time, it's generally assumed that this is a kind of parasitic relationship on the part of the war-making industry.

As time goes on, warfare becomes more abstract (partly because warfare happens where it can happen), much like society itself is becoming more abstract as information moves more quickly and humanity gains access to more energy.[1] In SAC_2045, "Sustainable War" is part of the context of the world and its current issues, but we aren't really told how it works - if it's similar to contemporary information warfare and a blurring of the lines between state and non-state actors, it's bound to be quite confusing.

I believe my earlier assessment of "Sustainable War" is correct. The key feature of sustainable war, the reason they say it's safe if you leave it to the experts, is likely that it involves AIs constantly forecasting against each other and moving units around with few direct confrontations. The goal would be to lock in a victory without having to fire a shot, except for small skirmishes that don't escalate to major incidents (due to the AI forecasting).

The presence of armed separatist movements even in Japan may also indicate that the ruling institutional bodies are engaged in a kind of Post-International Politics,[2] which treats all international relations as fundamentally existing between subnational entities - however, I believe that later information suggests this wasn't their original intent.

What makes it "sustainable"? Since if done correctly, very little is actually physically destroyed, the cost is less than conventional warfare, and thus the war can continue indefinitely. Why does it threaten humanity with destruction? Because there's an awful lot of military hardware waiting for someone to actually pull the trigger.

Season 1: Ep. 2

So what is the intent of the series' creators? I think they may be telling us through this dialogue between Togusa and Section Chief Daisuke Aramaki in episode 2.

Aramaki: Seems time has toughened you up. Togusa: Is that supposed to be a compliment? Aramaki: It is if you want it to be. Togusa: Then thanks for the kind words. “I made the right decision by choosing this line of work over my marriage.” That’s what you’re saying? Aramaki: Perhaps. [...] Togusa: They're bringing back Section 9? [...] Aramaki: But my takeaway from the proposal is this: The PM's reason for the urgent reforming of Section 9 takes priority over his personal motives. I believe his true objective is meeting the Americans' demands for the dispatch of special resources. Togusa: So it's as the Liberals feared? An American-born Prime Minister would be no more than an American puppet? Aramaki: I've yet to meet him in person, so I can't really say. But this is an opportunity to have the Major and the rest of you undertake a major operation for me once more. Togusa: What sort of op? Aramaki: Over the past few years, I have searched for an answer on how to deal with a society in turmoil. I'd like you people to lay the groundwork that will help the next generation find that answer. Togusa: I don't know what a man in my position can contribute, but I'll humbly offer whatever assistance I can.

Those of us who cried, Kamiyama, tell us the future once more! based on Standalone Complex's prophetic analysis of a memetic crime wave were bound to be disappointed. SAC_2045 is less rooted in the near future than in the now - cyberbullying, endless war amidst historic prosperity, employment suppressed by automation, savings eaten up by the complex machinations of finance, and a breakdown of national borders? That's today.

Those of us who hoped for a Ghost in the Shell: Unicorn, a psychically overpowering work that synthesizes the full body of Ghost in the Shell into a single coherent form to elevate us to a higher level of understanding, should have tempered our expectations. To reach each new philosophical level is more difficult than the last - to achieve that with Ghost in the Shell of all things would have required a multidisciplinary genius near the limits of current understanding.

Kenji Kamiyama is just an anime director. And anyhow, Gundam Unicorn was a book before it was an animated series. And who among us even knew we'd have to write a book before 2015? Ghost in the Shell was well-understood enough, so I instead wrote 25,000 words worth of hypothetical country and became a blogger, like the infamous Scott Alexander.[3]

If we approach SAC_2045 from the lens that it's a humbler work designed for younger audiences, however, some of the creative decisions make more sense.

Purin

Just how old is Purin, the MIT grad who joins the team later on? If I had to guess, that's '23歳' on that profile she provides, and Ishikawa notes that she 'skipped a few grades' on her way to a PhD. But she acts like someone a lot younger. She's enthusiastic and we're assured she's intelligent, but seems to be lacking social training. For example, she makes the mistake of assembling an era-accurate music player for Batou combined with a playlist after consulting the Tachikomas to find out what he listens to. There are two ways to take this.

The first is that she's intended as a relateable character for someone who would make this class of mistake. It's the sort of mistake I might have made at age 13-14, meaning that the show would probably be aimed at someone that age or lower. Overly enthusiastic, doesn't understand romantic relationships, impulsive, poor reading of boundaries / poor modelling of others outside of certain domains, impulsive in a way that causes social screw-ups? Yeah that could certainly apply to an ADHD kid of about that age.

And all of a sudden the tone of the first five episodes with the gun-fighting, the literal Agent Smith, the decision to place the focus in America, and even the mystery of the series being much simpler than Standalone Complex 2nd Gig's plot regarding Asian refugees in Japan make a lot more sense. This is Ghost in the Shell for kids!

Wow, I didn't think that could be done!

...is what I should say, except that around the time I acquired the ability to futurist shitpost, and I used that ability to predict that it would.

Purin II

The second reading is that the youth of the future are fucked up. She probably has some tricked out modifications, both cybernetic and genetic. Now usually you would tell someone to try to become a well-rounded human being. But...

The global economy has crashed. Batou mistakes her for a robot - creatures that look like pretty young women are a dime a dozen. In the dating market, she would be competing with full sensory immersion VR pornography on the one hand, and at the upper end of society where cybernetics are more widely available, likely women with a similar appearance but decades more experience and professional standing.

Note that in the original Standalone Complex, the team take down an 80-year-old Russian spy with the full prosthetic body of a 20-year-old. Full cyborgs aren't common then, nor are they in SAC_2045 (though cyberbrains are ubiquitous), but if the economy recovers that may change, and the sector she's trying to get in to (full-time salaried government rather than marginal private employment it would seem) is going to be very tough to enter either way.

So Purin may have to be over-optimized even to just appear on the screen. In fact, she says,

"Just so I could work at Section 9, I moved most of my sentimental memories to external storage."

Youch! It's no wonder she's socially maladjusted. Just how much of her social learning (in particular key events necessary to rebuild logical inferences on the boundaries of behavior on the fly) has she locked away?

Purin III

But you know who Purin looks like? Notorious internet personality, Gamer Girl Bath Water seller, and IRL video game character Belle Delphine.[4]

Or rather, it's the other way around - 2D animation compresses real detail into suggestive abstraction, letting your mind fill in the rest. Going from those impossible 2D shapes to 3 dimensions creates strange results, like training your machine learning algorithm on the salient features of a cat's face, applying it to human shape, and putting pink hair on the result. Belle Delphine adopts that otherworldly kind of appearance as part of her act.

Technically, this a stylistic choice. Within the framework of SAC_2045, this is what "a 23-year-old female" looks like.

Purin is in fact so non-threatening that her big red coat obscures her figure. I'm gonna go with younger audience. Now if only I could remember what pronoun she uses.[5/☆]

Motoko

With a full prosthetic body, outward signs of human-like aging are almost an artistic expression, much like in a world with cheap tissue engineering, visible scars are a choice.

When she was first introduced in the original Ghost in the Shell manga, we don't know how old Motoko Kusanagi is. It was once said that her name is analogous to "Jane Excalibur," which in English would be an obvious alias. In the first movie (from 1995), she's cool, almost cold and robotic.

In the original Standalone Complex, Motoko has a more mature personality than in the manga, but she has a clearly adult look by the standards of anime. Seriously, check out this fantastic character design (combat suit), although admittedly the better-known "leather jacket and bathing suit" design is more ridiculous, fashion-wise.[6] (Fortunately, she gets pants in her much more stylish second season outfit.)

ARISE starts off with a young Motoko Kusanagi in a chaotic post-war period before the Section 9 we know was assembled. This shows in her character design, but it really shows in her personality. This was actually why I had joked about an even earlier Ghost in the Shell.

There is a sense in which the 2017 live-action movie's Motoko is even younger. Scarlett Johansson is a killer cyborg with amnesia. She doesn't even have one day of formal combat training.

Motoko 2045

Ilya Kuvshinov designed SAC_2045's Motoko Kusanagi.

Yes, that Ilya Kuvshinov. You could be forgiven for thinking this is a teenager that hardboiled assassins Saitou and Ishikawa in the background have been hired to bodyguard.

Despite this, Atsuko Tanaka has resumed her role as Motoko's voice actress. Standalone Complex's Motoko looked 25 and felt mid-30s. SAC_2045's Motoko looks 16 and has the voice and attitude of 40.

This may make more sense than you might think.

Through Whose Eyes?

Throughout much of Ghost in the Shell as a franchise, Togusa, the only non-cyborg on the team, who is pulled from a police department instead of a military background, tends to be character used to help the people of our time relate to the future. He's the guy that doesn't know the things we also don't know, so in explaining concepts to Togusa they're explained to the audience.

In SAC_2045, most of the team are off doing cool cyborg things in America. Aramaki (whose in-world function is to create the bureaucratic environment within which Section 9 operates) tasks Togusa with finding them. The original Standalone Complex first aired in 2003. It's been 17 years since it was created - a similar situation to finding someone that reached adulthood who was born after 9/11. And during this time, Togusa's life has changed - the family man is now separated from his wife. And the world has changed - Togusa is now working for a private security firm. Togusa's role in the first five episodes isn't to guide the new viewers.

His purpose is to guide or stand-in for the old viewers.

The New Viewers

"Do you still hold a grudge against the Major and the others for leaving you behind?"

For the original viewers, SAC_2045 is your world, too. Togusa is there. Togusa is you.

The new viewers are Purin. Enthusiastic and smart but awkward and not confident in their skills. How could they measure up to these much more talented and experienced characters? (Also consider who is going to watch any sort of Ghost in the Shell - it's probably going to be a moderately bright and introverted kid, who is the kind of person that may be more comfortable socializing with people outside of their age band.)

But Motoko is visually separated from the rest of Section 9. Batou, Saitou, Ishikawa, Boma... they all have a much more adult look in keeping with their appearance in previous versions of Ghost in the Shell. What gives?

Batou is sort of a cool adult male figure - this is actually a pretty natural use of the character and his sense of humor as previously established in other Ghost in the Shell properties. We especially see this come through in 「PIE IN THE SKY - First Bank Robbery」 episode, with the old folks and the 21st century bank robbery.

Motoko's difference in appearance is because she's acting as a bridge between the two. The new viewer (as represented by Purin) is supposed to grow into being like Motoko as they gain confidence and experience. (The characters aren't each limited to a single role, of course.)

But SAC_2045 is still a work that's shared between two groups, similar to how the excellent Into the Spiderverse features both the teenage Miles Morales and an older Peter Parker that has lost his way, with the loss of the vibrant young adult Peter Parker being what starts the plot going.

The Last Quarter

With this framework, the rest of the work should express its nature as targeted at a younger audience itself. Watch the last few episodes through this lens and you'll see how much sense it makes. One takes place at a school. Even the bizarre 3D style that resembles recent video games makes more sense. If we take Togusa's earlier conversation with Aramaki as a discussion of SAC_2045 itself, later on there's even a sort of acknowledgement that Ghost in the Shell is a difficult work for someone of a young age.

So with that context in mind, does it work?

Standalone Complex

If I remember correctly, years ago, when I was perhaps 15 or 16, I was watching a tiny CRT television some time after midnight, and I saw the thirteenth episode of the original Standalone Complex - NOT EQUAL. It was like nothing I had ever seen before. I was immediately taken by it. And, from what I remember, I immediately understood it.

It was as though it were made just for me.[7]

To me, Ghost in the Shell is like a textbook. I thought that as a creator who has reached a place where I am able to be involved in that kind of work, I'm in a position where I have to convey its contents to a younger audience. Well, I knew it would be a lot of work, but I figured it would be my way of giving back to Ghost in the Shell. I thought that I needed to accept the baton and offer Ghost in the Shell to a young audience, to the same degree that Ghost in the Shell raised me to be who I am.

- Tow Ubukata, in a 2015 interview, regarding ARISE

For many people, Ghost in the Shell is a profound influence. I felt that it lifted me to a new level of understanding.

SAC_2045

But what about SAC_2045?

I can't view Ghost in the Shell with new eyes. When I first saw it, I wasn't the kind of person that casually memes futuristic ethical dilemmas as a means of practicing politics.

Compared to the anime I watched back when I was 13, would I have watched SAC_2045? Yes. Is it more philosophically and politically sophisticated? Yes. Would I have found it memorable? I think so.

Would a 13-year these days watch it? That's difficult to assess. I bet someone who does data science for Netflix could tell us, if they wanted. I'm sure Kenji Kamiyama and Shinji Aramaki are considering the same thing.

2017

How does it stack up compared to the rest of the franchise?

For most enthusiasts it's going to be one of the weaker entries, though it certainly does a better job explaining itself than ARISE.

Compare it to 2017's live action movie, however, and I think we'll find it isn't the weakest. The reason is that the writers of Ghost in the Shell (2017) decided to tell a story about bodily consent in which becoming a cyborg is a form of trauma. On some level this may have been a reasonable decision, but they didn't commit to the concept sufficiently fully to execute it well enough to carry the movie - and simultaneously, they dumbed down parts of the regular Ghost in the Shell material for American audiences. As a result the movie flopped both financially and artistically - except for the visuals.

In fact, I wrote a sequence of posts (1, 2, 3, 4) on how to rewrite the live action movie as an actual Ghost in the Shell property. I feel no need to do so for SAC_2045 - and I can't even think of what changes would need to be made.

I look forward to the second season.

-☆☆☆-

[1] It's short, but that's a concept in this post. "Advanced by Left-Wing theorists, Ninth Generation warfare sees all acts as existing on a spectrum of political violence. Most acts of ninth generation warfare consist of extreme pranks."

[2] If we accept the idea of "Fifth-Generation Warfare" as motivated by a desire to prevent the enemy from using their conventional military assets, then a corresponding theory of international politics would involve preventing enemy factions within foreign governments from taking control of those governments' institutions - effectively treating all countries as in continuous level of conflict analogous to a soft civil war.

[3] There is a kind of technique to this, but in my case I substituted ADHD for raw IQ and conscientiousness, which is part of why my posts are so much shorter than, for instance, Moldbug's. In any case, technically, Scott's blog posts on the matter amount to roughly a mere 11,600 words, and the book of the black forest amounts to approximately 26,000 words (which I'm told is entertaining reading), but I'm sure if we go looking we can find an additional 15,000 words worth of worldbuilding from a man known for writing 16,000 word blog posts.

[4] Would it be more of a legal liability to sell regular water with GGBW branding, or actual GGBW that could prove to be a potential health hazard?

[5/☆] There's some future strand lurking beneath the surface here that I can't quite put into words; a culturally divergent moe meltdown where an appearance this ridiculous becomes normalized among some sub-population. To quote the Funko Pop Hatred post,

There are questions about the anatomy of anime people and their internal organs, and particularly about what sort of impact-dampening alien meta-material their softer bits are made out of, but at least homo sapiens gokuensis looks like it’s a branch off a similar starting hominid! Whatever transhuman engineering company was responsible for manufacturing the creatures in the typical harem anime has some weird ideas about human beings, but we’re clearly in their ancient lineage somewhere.

Under Late Safetyism, everyone is a declawed catgirl.

Anyhow, I don't want to alarm you, but I can't guarantee that this won't be the future somewhere. Both Purin and Belle Delphine resemble Xiaoice, "The AI Girlfriend Seducing China's Lonely Men." (2020)

[6] Motoko's ridiculous outfits are a major flex on the non-cyborgs, who aren't indifferent to ambient temperature and whose natural bodies may have unflattering features. Similarly wild fashions can exist in places like Second Life, a 3D digital platform with mostly user-uploaded content. Presumably they're also a flex on every Japanese salaryman who still has to dress like a normal guy.

[7] "It's as though it were made just for me" is also how I feel about the original game Mirror's Edge. Its follow-up, Catalyst, is also a personal favorite of mine.

#miti does media #longpost #flagpost #ghost in the shell #sac_2045 #standalone complex #review

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