#guitarrero tlaloc

[baitsabeeisreal]

Sarah: Kawennáhere Devery Jacobs. She’s of Native heritage, and she’s around Sarah’s age.

Jago: Maybe Jacob Artist. Like, he looks very very similar to how I imagined Jago, if you put a couple of scars on his face. What doesn’t convince me 100% is that he’s African-American, while Jago is Peruvian, so I think it would be better if a Latino actor played him, but I couldn’t find one that looked the right way.

Chiyoko: definitely Rinko Kikuchi. If you’ve seen Pacific Rim, you can understand why.

An: He’s one of the most difficult. There aren’t many asian actors of that age, the only one I saw in a leading role is Ki Hong Lee, and even tho he’s really good, he doesn’t look like An AT ALL. So I browsed some lists of asian actors, and the one that convinced me more is Brendan Howley. Like, I know he’s much more handsome than An should be, but he has that tormented aesthetic and I think he could fit.

Maccabee: Matthew Lewis. He’s exactly like how Maccabee was described.

Baitsakhan: My choiche is Ryan Potter, even if I’m not 100% sure. I said An had been difficult to cast? Baitsakhan was FUCKING ALMOST IMPOSSIBLE! I could hardly find any Mongolian actors, and none of them was that age. So I lowered my standards and looked for actors who had East Asian heritage. So Ryan Potter was really one of the few avaible that showed the right age. (Also he was Hiro’s voice in Big Hiro 6, and that movie always reminded me of Baits so well)

Shari: Freida Pinto might be the right actress. At first I thought about Pryianka Chopra, but she doesn’t look “innocent” enough. So yeah. Freida Pinto.

Alice: Amanlda Stenberg. I love her natural hair and the way she played Rue. The only thing that doesn’t convince me is her body type: Alice should be much bigger and more muscolar. I think that Patina Miller has the right body for her, but she’s really too old.

Aisling: Rose Leslie, because she has red hair, freckles and an intresting face, and she can play well a badass (see her role as Ygritte.) I had imagined Aisling more like Chloe Howl, but she’s not an actress so…

Kala: Sofia Boutella. I’m really satisfied about this choiche, because she’s middle eastern like Kala (she’s algerian to be fair), and around the right age. Of course she would have to wear green contact lenses and a hijab!

Hilal: Aml Ameen could be fine for him. He’s the right age, the right ethnicity, the right build. The only thing he misses are blue eyes, but there are contacts for that. Also he played Alby in The Maze Runner, and his character is similar to Hilal for some things: both are wise and have authority, even if Hilal is gentler. Another actor that might be good to play him is Michael Ealy, but he’s really too old.

Marcus: Matthew Daddario. He’s tall, handsome, with black curly hair and he honestly looks like a greek god, so, who could be better as the Minoan player?

Christopher: Lucas Till, because he looks like your typical, blonde, kind, all american boy.

Stella: Haley Webb plays her in Ancient Soceties, I think, but honestly I always imagined her more like Jennifer Lawrence (or maybe Natalie Dormer)

Little Alice: Amrita Mukherjee, even if maybe she’s too old (she’s like 10??)

Jamal: Avan Jogia, he looks pretty much like I imagined him.

Ekaterina Adlai: Kate Winslet, because she’s the right age and body type. And of course she would potray her well, I mean… It’s Kate fucking Winslet.

Guitarrero Tlaloc: Giancarlo Esposito, because he is the right ethnicity and age and he already did similar roles.

Hayu Tlaloc: I know she doesn’t look Peruvian (she’s swedish in fact) but I imagined her as Lena Olin. You should blame her role as Irina Derevko for it, because she’s a manipulative, badass, bitch mother.

Nori Ko: Maggie Q, she’s the right age and ethnicity.

Xander: Alex Pettyfer, because he got that “surfer boy” look that I imagined Xander with.

Jalair: Ryan Higa. He was my second choiche for An tbh, and since I added Jalair only as a last thought I choose quickly. But I think that he honestly fits.

Declan&Pop Kopp: I chose Brendan and Brian Gleeson bc they’re two gingers, father and son, around the right age.

[baitsabeeisreal]

For the anon that requested me a fic about Jago's background. That's not really a new fic, I had already posted it there, but since I found it and read it again and realized how much I messed up with verbal tenses at the time, I corrected it, changed some stuff, and decided to post this again. It's a series of events in Jago's life. They all take place before Endgame, some before he met Alicia, some after. They're linked together by the lyrics of the album American Idiot by Green Day, that I think descrives Jago pretty well. There are no graphic scenes, just a mention of murder and some blood. Oh and a mention of drugs so if that triggers you don't read the Give Me Novocaine part. „I’m the son of rage and love, The jesus of Suburbia […] And there’s nothing wrong with me This is how I’m supposed to be„ Jago felt it. It was like something phisical. He could feel it touch his body, shine in front of his eyes, lifting him. It was so real it became concrete. What was it? Honestly, he didn’t even know. Something like esteem with a bit of fear. Or fear with a bit of esteem. Whatever it was, it was overwhelming. It hit him when he walked in the suburbis, when thieves and killers, rapists and whores got away from the street to let him pass and looked at him like he was a god, like he could kill them with a word, mot leaving them even the time to whisper a prayer before they died. And it was true. He was smaller than most of them, but he was the strongest. Nobody, nobody could win in a fight with Jago Tlaloc. Women wanted to be with him; men wanted to be him. Jago Tlaloc was the only son of Guitarrero Tlaloc. He was his heir. He was going to be the boss, a day. He was treated like a modern Jesus. His father used him as a killer, as a messenger, as his most dangerous emissary. Jago had no mercy. You couldn’t have it, if you were a Tlaloc. If you were supposed to be a king. If you had been raised like him. His dad was often angry; he had as much mercy with his son as he had with his enemies, wich meant no mercy. Jago had to be strong, he had to be his best. And often it wasn’t enough either. His mum was a strong woman, too. She didn’t pity him, she didn’t do anyhting that could have made him grow up weak. She treated him bad, if it was needed, but she loved him. Both of his parents loved him. They weren’t overly violent with him. Harsh, but fair. They cared about him, but he was better not to delude them or piss them off. Life in Casa Tlaloc was a constant balance between rage and love. Everyone had to keep the balance to live well, and, overall, to live. Jago had been always pretty good at it. He was exactly what he was supposed to be, what his father tought him he should’ve been. Harsh but fair, just like him. Cruel in need, but not a monster. Good with his closest, but never submissive. “Hear the sound of the falling rain Comin’ down like an armageddon flame The shame, the ones who died without a name I beg to dream and differ from the hollow lies This is the drawning of the rest of our lives On holyday„ He was the perfect heir. Or, at least, almost. He had had some weakness moments, too. He didn’t enjoy what he was done. Sometimes he feel alone, irredeemably alone. Like he was meant to cohabit with his demons only for all the time of his life. Like anyone was never going to understand him. And it was true. So he surrounded himself with girls, fake friends, fake, fake, fake beautiful people, people who just wanted to stay with him for who he was and not for how he was. But what could he do? Run away? Give up? He just couldn’t. He had been raised with duty and family. Running away wasn’t anything more than a forbidden thought that tried to get in his mind,that kept him awake at night and made him struggle. But everytime he thought about it, he knew he wasn't going to do it. It wasn’t anything he couldn’t handle, at the end. He just needed to resist a couple years more, to keep killing and training and doing works for his family, before he became too old to be a player. To be honest, Jago didn’t dislike training and doing jobs for his father. It was pretty fun, if he didn’t think about the moral. And he was pretty good at it. He just closed his mind from emotions and let them out, and later he suffocated them with alcohol or sex. “Thought I ran into you down the street, Then it turned out to only be a dream I made a point to burn all of the photographs, She went away and then I took a different path, I remember the face, But I can’t recall the name, Now I wonder how whatsername has been„ This, until he met Alicia. She was different. Different from everyone else. She was beautiful and indipendent and free and dangerous. She was an hurricane that could break all his awarenesses and surenesses and leave him shattered, asking why he did what he did. Even after he had lost her, he kept spending a lot of time remembering her and reflecting about what would she have done. He just sat on his bed, holding her photographs in his hands and thinking about all the memories they had done together. He wanted to forget. He wanted to burn those photographs and stop thinking about that girl, but it was impossible. Because Alicia had got stuck in his heart and in his mind like no one else before. “Drain the pressure from the swelling The sensation’s overwhelming Give me a long kiss good night and everything will be alright Tell me that I won’t feel a thing So give me Novacaine„ Once, he had to committ an homicide. He did it, and, as usual, he just pushed his emotions away during it. No pain, no guilt, nothing at all. But when he came back home, when he got into the shower and saw the water becoming red as it washed away the blood from his hands, he felt broken. He started crying, watching his dirty hand get clean, and knowing that it wasn't going to be so easy to clean his soul. When he got out, wet, naked, helpless, he threw himself on his bed and kept crying, hoping that nobody could hear him, whispering Alicia’s name against the pillow. Then, he decided to go out. He rocked his tears and picked his clothes, and then he got on Juliaca’s streets. He didn’t know what he was looking for. Something to forget, but something different from usual. Something stronger, because the same alcohol, the same girls, weren't going to be enough, this time. Because this was the first time he had killed a man since he and Alicia had met. So he got in a club, and when someone offered him some drug, he accepted it. When he woke up in his bed, he didn’t remember anything but emptiness and an overwhelming sensation of piece and calm. But now, he felt like shit. He wanted to puke but he was too weak to get up and make his way to the toilette. His sight was bleary. «You were screaming her name in your sleep.» It was his mother's voice. Jago looked around and made an effort to sit, his head terribly aching. «What’s wrong, Jago?» his mother went on. «Nothing. Just wanted to try something new. Sorry I messed up, I shouldn’t. Have done this.»he said, trying to keep himself calm and cold even if he wanted to scream for how bad he felt. His mother shook her head, obviously not convinced, but then she sighed and left the room. Since then, his parents became harsher. They seemed to know there was something wrong, but Jago never showed it again. He had learnt his lesson: he had learnt that love always changes you, and that sometimes is hard to know if it is bad or good. Actually, he didn’t know it. But he knew for sure that things were never going to be the same.