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morallygreychaoticneutral · 2 months ago

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Spawn Astarion is "Stronger" than Ascended Astarion.

Ugh..this winter depression made me its bitch this time around and I didn't even get orgasms or snacks out of it.

Disrespectful!

So, lets shake these blahs by sharing some tea about our favorite elf. Hmmm..how about some Inner Reset. Sweet fennel, aniseed and cardamom.

This thought pot was started when I was reading a lot of comments about how "weak" Spawn Astarion is and how Ascending him is the best possible outcome for him. Is it? I feel Spawn Astarion is worthy of a high level of respect. More so than his Ascended version in my opinion.

Now, before an army of beloved dark consorts come for my neck, I do NOT have an issue with your master. I mean, if your going to have a evil, world dominating evil fantasy I would choose him too. I am with you on that. I am merely aligned with with his other half and enjoy sharing why.

Now go! You know your sovereign doesn't like his highly prized and guarded treasure straying too far. And I have no desire to have to explain to him why you are in my foyer. But, you are welcome to stay if you have permission and manners. * wink *

WARNING: Game Spoilers, Topics of Sex, Abuse, Torture and Adult themes including language. Not underage appropriate.

This is not fact. Just opinion based off my own and game experience. As always, how anybody cannons their relationships or behaviors is perfectly right! No blame, no shame, it's your game!

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Lets wander a bit.

Imagine if you will, that you made a poorly educated choice. And because of it, you were locked into slavery for centuries under the thumb of a mentally unstable captor. Your choices being do as you are told or suffer endless unimaginable pain you could never escape from due to your bond with your tormentor and your undead nature. You wouldn't die from the torture that would kill a mortal within minutes. You would suffer it for days, months, even years. True death was beyond your reach. Forever trapped in an endless cycle of pain.

But, you could "buy" a tentative reprieve.

The price? A strangers life.

No brainer, right? But here's the catch. The use of your body was required and the choices of what happened to it are anyone's but yours. Used any way your deranged captor wanted. Or your conquests for that matter. No boundaries, no autonomy.

So, what would you choose? Ceaseless pain? Or sexual slavery?

Seems like an easy choice. Luring strangers to their deaths by spinning intricate webs of lust promised lies to convince them of your false sincerity. Trapping them and feeding them to the spider that is your master. He is happy and you get to keep the skin on your bones. Well, more often than not at least. Better on a pain scale. But it is still torture.

But let's add in another level of complexity. Your sense of right and wrong is still intact. You are not "evil". Had you been it would have made the choice way too easy. You wouldn't have given a single thought about who you lured to deaths door. The act being nothing more than an annoying chore. But no, you still feel.

Damned if you do, dammed if you don't. Pick your hard.

This was Astarion's impossible choice.

And he chose what anyone who wasn't completely insane would choose. Not that it was any better. Not with his conscious still alive and well.

He talked like he was indifferent at times, but he carried remorse and accountability for his role in those people's demise. Even if he didn't want to.

"All these people were ruined because of me. Don't hate me. I did what i had to. i swear. I did what i had to!"

Deeds and beliefs against our true nature create shame. And shame is a self-destroying belief that evolves into loathing. And loathing is a vicious, rotting emotion that gives birth to soul crushing envy.

"I did these horrible things to innocent people. I deserve to suffer for my wretchedness. But why is no one else having to suffer consequences but me?!"

This is a poisonous concoction of turmoil that flays us emotionally.

Feelings Astarion fights with through the entire storyline. And he spends most of the game hiding because of it. His vampirism, his real personality, his sins.

Who wouldn't?

By societal standards he was already classified as a monster for being a vampire. By emotional standards he was considered weak and pathetic for being empathetic and saving space for others. And by moral standards he was evil for his roll in luring so many back to a sadistic master.

What a shit show.

But It wasn't who he truly was. Was he vampire? Yes, but he admired heros like Drizzt who bucked the social norm that he should be evil and chose otherwise. Was he empathetic? Yes, he tried to avoided innocents when he could and chose villains instead. Was he evil? No. He took no pleasure in the orders he was given. Unlike Jackass, pardon, Petras, he fought against Cazador's orders more often than not.

The inner villain vs the inner hero. A war raging in his own being that made the decision in what to do in regards to the ritual all the harder. Because on some level, both decisions made sense.

Mercy..

"But, if he was good, why was the decision so hard?"

For two centuries Astarion bore witness to Cazador being anything but "good" and getting everything handed to him. Power, wealth, pleasure. All the things Astarion had been convinced was worth anything in the world.

Which echo's real life, doesn't it. How many times has society sold you the idea that your value is based purely off of what you own (wealth), look like (sex appeal) or accomplish (reputation) ? Hmmm.

He did everything society told him was the thing to do to win at life didn't he? He was wealthy and accomplished by being a magistrate. He was beautiful and alluring in his body and looks. All the spoils of life should have been handed to him. But instead, it was taken.

"And what am i owed? What about the injustices I've suffered-am i not entitled to anything? Everything was taken from me, too."

And then, to add insult to injury, he finds out the Rite of Profane Ascension would "gift" Cazador, the man who has used and abused him for centuries, with new life and unfathomable power. The power to do anything. To be anything at the expense of Astarion's body and soul. Even if he died in the ritual, he still wouldn't be free.

"To place him in a position of such esteem the world will yearn to kneel. And offer their necks. Of course I envy him. Why wouldn't I?"

He is understandably envious. What an absolute unfair joke that that cesspool of a person, that demon, gets such a high prize for being anything but pure evil. Having done none of the dirty work to achieve it. His success built entirely off the suffering of others. Especially, Astarion's. Is there no justice in the world?!

From his lens, I can understand why he would want to complete the ritual. Pulling it off would feel like a justified prize for all he has suffered. Doing so would take away anyone's ability to hurt him on any level. Mental or physical. He really does believe it will grant him safety after decades of having none. A prize for pain. Finally.

But it's another impossible choice for him to make.

Choice 1: Ascend

Defeat Cazador and he gets everything he ever wanted. Power, life, freedom.

The price? Send seven thousand souls, including the innocent, straight to Avernus to suffer for all eternity. Wiping out every living memory of the sins committed. All the shame, mistakes, misdeeds, gone. The only people left to speak of it are his companions. A minuscule number against thousands.

That does sound delicious. Destroy all evidence of your sins and gain ultimate power. What's not to like?

Choice 2: Sabotage the ritual / release the spawn.

( yes i know there is a third but my Astarion didn't pick that route.)

Cazador is defeated and he gets only one thing he wanted. Freedom.

The price? He forfeits unimaginable power and is cast back into the shadows to remain a spawn. The thousand or so souls he wronged survive and could demand retribution at any time.

A seemingly bitter prize. What could possibly be worth this choice?

What indeed.

Again, no shade to the ascenders. It absolutely can be the right choice depending on your intention. Your love gets epic power and a thrall of vampire spawn are rendered harmless. Win win. I get it.

But, after all the inner and outer battles of belief against himself, MY Astarion made the decision to give all of those suffering souls their free will. Free to have the chance to save themselves, find space in world, find purpose, and find love just as he had.

This elf, soaked in pain and agony, frightened of every intention he could not control, choked by rage and envy. Chose mercy for others at his own expense.

What in the healing powers of forgiveness and acceptance is this?!

The level of selflessness and strength it took to make that decision is mind altering.

That one act of empathy raised him to a level beyond what Mephistopheles could ever offer him. He overcame the limiting beliefs set upon him by others. Won the ultimate boss fight of dominating his own demons and became a hero even Drizzt Do'Urden would be proud of.

No gods or devils required.

That, to me, is the ultimate "ascension".

(Swoon..)

"But he didn't do it on his own. It took his peers to talk him down. He wanted to do it."

Did he? If you listen, every time he talks about ascending with your character, he is seeking approval for it. Which means deep down it is not sitting right with him either. Otherwise why would he give a damn what you think?

Sometimes we need our friends and loved ones to remind us that who we are in our most genuine state is more than enough for anything. To have another soul look at you and say "I enjoy the hells out of your essence. Don't change it." means so much. Sure there are those raised with enough self love and confidence they don't need outside validation. But for the rest of the bruised and sore souls, it's like cool water poured on parched ground. Softening the shell and allowing growth to happen.

And I think Astarion was no different. He needed to hear that in that moment. He needed to know that his closest companions accepted and loved him for who he was. Not for who he could be. That there was nothing shameful or wrong for being truly himself. Forgive himself for deeds done beyond his control and chose his own path in life.

He was just surrounded by villains, not friends. He was not a monster because of his vampirism. He was not pathetic for having a thoughtful soul. (have you seen some of his dialogue with Durge and Karlach?) And realized he deserved more than he allowed himself to believe he did.

When we know better, we do better.

We are the product of our environment. Be sure to check yours.

"You believed in me-believed I was enough just the way I am."

He doesn't need to be a lord for me to hit my knees and offer my neck. I would be, am, absolutely proud to stand at he side of this "weak" elf. Because if weak means being sweet, silly, proud, forgiving and evolving. Then give me weak.

He may not have the power to concur the world. But he has the power to capture mine.

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"So we hide away and never tell. You decide if darkness knows you well. That lesson of love, all that it was. I need you to see.

You got that power over me. My, my. Everything I hold dear resides in those eyes. You got that power over me. My, my. The only one I know, the only one on my mind. You got that power over me."

Dermont Kennedy

#baulders gate 3 #astarion ancunin #spawn astarion #my headcanons #pale elf #self love #acceptance of self

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crimsoncowboyy · 4 months ago

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Are John and Arthur “Good” People? (An RDR Analysis)

A common comment I see on a lot of RDR posts is that, at the end of the day, John and Arthur are simply bad people. Usually, these comments can be seen in game clips where the player controlling Arthur has him do something drastically evil, such as mass murdering an entire town, just for fun. However, these also exist under posts that are meant to praise the characters of the game, showcasing their redemption arcs and appreciating how far both John and Arthur grow from the beginning of the game series. First, I think it is important to note that for the sake of the game being interactive, players must be able to have autonomy over what either John or Arthur do. Player autonomy within RDR is meant to serve as a world-building mechanism that unites the player with the intricate environmental designs, side-character interactions, and atypical lifestyles of John and Arthur. The more one explores, the more immersed they become with the characters they play as, and this makes the eventual deaths of both protagonists even more impactful. Yet, some players instead utilize open-world freedom to harass and harm numerous NPCs for seemingly no reason. Sure, Arthur and John can be made to rob random houses and beat up women in saloons, but this is not representative of the canonical story Rockstar is portraying. This leads to the other point I brought up, which is that many people argue that John and Arthur do not technically redeem themselves, and I want to dissect this by explaining what RDR teaches players about what it means to be a good person.

To tackle this complicated question, it is essential to recognize that the world Arthur and John come from is not a world that RDR players have ever lived in. The Wild West as a whole is essentially its micro-society that died about over one hundred years ago, and rather than going to war with other countries, Wild West “gangs” go to war with rival groups that hold ideologies the other finds to be immoral or corrupt. This world has its own traditions, power dynamics, borders, and way of life that can be defined by two main concepts: anarchy and poverty. Yet, like all political ideologies and lifestyles, some issues and hypocrisies arise from these values. Despite being anarchists who view the rich and the government as the world’s true enemies, micro-governments form within the “gangs” of the Wild West that develop into an almost cult-like reality that all people knowingly or unknowingly accept. Dutch Van Der Linde is a prime example of this. He rescues children, veterans, people of color, and outlaws who often themselves are victims of capitalism, racism, and American corruption and takes them in as his “children.” Dutch can be analyzed as the gang’s leader, and he ultimately sets up a society where he has loyal advisors, such as Hosea Matthews, but at the end of the day, only his word is to be followed, despite any doubts or opposition. Additionally, despite giving those living in poverty food, shelter, “education,” and a sense of community, Van Der Linde isolates members of his gang from the outside world through unique manipulation that eventually has the gang turn against one another.

Even though Dutch claims he opposes the structure of the United States government and the way it is often a form of evil, he does little to fight against the system. Instead, he uses it as an excuse to gain power in his way and steal from those he feels as a whole wronged him, but he sends loyal gang members to do the dirty work for him. This leads to a vicious cycle of poverty perpetrated by both Wild West gang leaders and the government itself; to put it simply, the government does little to help those born into unfortunate circumstances, poverty, families of color, and more. It then deems these people to be “inhuman,” causing those same people to flee to whoever will accept and guide them. Then, when the government gets wind of what those “inhuman” people are now up to, they demand that these lifestyles get abandoned and destroyed, but still fail to provide an alternate lifestyle of help to get people on the right track. This isolation and lack of empathy from those of governmental power both cause these Wild West outlaws to exist in a balance of stark independence and cultish loyalty to those who offer a sense of belonging. Thus, a vicious cycle continues.

Yet, even with menial knowledge of the Wild West lifestyle, it does not take long for players to get a sense that John and Arthur are two strong examples of what morality within this dubiously structured world can be analyzed to look like. The only times we see John and Arthur be “cruel” (outside of TikTok gameplay clips from teenage boys…) is when they want to say or do something mean to somebody. For example, Arthur demeans Sadie by calling her “woman,” but this is because he feels she is claiming to be better than other people in the camp because she does not want to cook. At other times, he uses the term “woman” or similar derogatory terms when trying to assert dominance or intimidate others. Arthur does this because of the loyalty he has to Dutch; he believes he is acting how he must act to provide for the gang, thus making Arthur’s motivations clear: loyalty. No matter what, Arthur is loyal to the people he perceives to be his family and saviors, especially Dutch. When Arthur is not working and encounters people he has genuine conversations with, we see the kindness, empathy, and creativity that Arthur possesses, even if Arthur himself downplays his own beautiful characteristics. Even if you always choose to antagonize gang members, you will not lose honor as a result of it, implying the gang understands that Arthur has and always will mean well. He openly expresses that he believes in equality, and we see through his interactions with women, people of color, and even those with alternative lifestyles, such as Charles Chatenay, that he respects people if they follow their hearts and lack impure intentions. This is why Arthur resonates so heavily with Eagle Flies, who wants to start a war against the United States Army because of their treatment of his tribe, while Arthur despises Micah who only serves himself.

John and Arthur are similar to one another. One thing to make note of is that they symbolize a sibling duo that grew up in chaos and processed it differently. Arthur, who is older than John, takes a much more “loyal dog” approach to his upbringing. Since Dutch and Hosea took Arthur in and provided him with the paternal comfort he always sought even before the “Van Der Linde gang” was fully established, Arthur dedicates his entire life to the two. He is scarily dedicated to serving them, both because he adores the gang as a whole and because he has not formed an identity outside of Dutch’s hold. Dutch does this on purpose, essentially grooming Arthur to be an unbeatable bodyguard, and takes advantage of Arthur’s desperate-for-praise nature and gradually exposes Arthur to more and more violence until it is just a factor of his life. However, John juxtaposes Arthur’s fervently faithful nature, as he is younger and joined the gang after it was a bit more developed. John shows a much more defiant and anti-authority streak than Arthur does. While Arthur does value alone time as a means of reflection, John shows a tendency to make choices for himself, even if this is at the expense of other people. Yet, there is something almost childish about John, even when he’s robbing someone or being threatened by the government. In the face of danger, he will make snide remarks, and while being stubborn, he will display an almost silly sense of opposition to whatever he dislikes or does not want to do (think about how he was acting while being driven in the car in RDR1). Yet, deep down, John has a similar sense of loyalty to Arthur, and this is where their two arcs truly divide; Arthur is causing him because of his unconditional loyalty to a decaying cause, while John wants to be better for his wife, Abigail, and son, Jack, but does not know how to be. It is very evident that John loves Abigail more than anything. Around her, his defiant, angry nature will subdue or disappear entirely. Abigail, who also grew up in unfortunate circumstances and turned to prostitution as a result, understands who John is at the core, and he understands her. She is the one person John, in his own strange way, is vulnerable with. He lets Abigail slap him if he says something rude, performs gestures of love as a means of apologizing to her, and goes to Mexico while it is in the midst of a bloody civil war to take down Bill, Javier, and Dutch after the gang disbanded all to secure her freedom from government captivity. John’s love for Abigail is so important because he is somebody we see resent how he gets frequently used like a pawn by people in power, but with Abigail, he accepts that sense of authority and respects her because of it.

So, if John loves Abigail so deeply, why did he run away after the birth of Jack? Does this not make him a deadbeat father and a bad man? At first glance, John’s relationship with Jack does appear to have a level of unhealthiness to it. Not only did he miss a year of Jack’s life, but as he gets older, John tends to put down Jack’s less “masculine” interests. While this is wrong to do to Jack, it is difficult to claim that John’s actions were meant to be purposely cruel. This is somebody who knows very little about love, family, and fatherhood. Sure, John gets glimpses of these realities through the gang, but the gang is still made up of lots of people who are coping with traumatic pasts. The gang, who are now all adults, understand the reality of their situation and the people who are in the same circumstances as them, but John knows that Jack deserves better than the dwindling life of a Wild West outlaw. Yet, John does not know how to obtain this life for his son. The only fatherly figures he has had raised him to be but another player in this violent world, and otherwise, John has lacked positive and authoritative male role models in his life. So, John panics and disappears not just on Abigail and Jack, but on the gang as a whole. Upon his return months later, almost everybody welcomes him back with open arms; even Abigail. She understands that John fled not because he is unloving, but because he is too loving and fears he will raise a son that will turn on as hardened and unfortunate as him, and that is the last thing John wants. Even though they fight and sometimes fail to communicate efficiently, John and Abigail know that deep down, they mean everything to one another, and no matter how idiotic John acts, it is out of fear, not pure cruelty.

Both RDR games end with the protagonist’s death which symbolizes a cycle of violence being broken, even if it is a more gradual process. John and Arthur have spent their lives essentially in exile. Their biological families and home country have abandoned them in numerous ways, and this resulted in an outlaw lifestyle that is now being forcefully put to an end by the very same government that catalyzed its creation. They have mastered how to fight for what little they have and how to steal from upper-class Americans as an act of retaliation, but all this does is trap Arthur and John in their angry pasts. Rather than Dutch helping the two get back on their feet, he instead encourages John and Arthur to fight and take from the same society that displaced them. Yet, this brutality does nothing but make the two groups hate each other more and more, especially as Dutch’s plans began to change from simply robbing the rich to becoming the very force that enables poverty patterns to continue. John and Arthur begin to recognize and oppose this because of the empathy both possess, and they start to resent Dutch’s changing ways. Once again, we do not see either man kill in cold blood, seek to harm the innocent, take enjoyment in murder, or act in self-serving manners. From the angle of the Wild West being its own society, John and Arthur have the roles of being military men who finally see the extent of the damage their world has caused, even though they tried to convince themselves that their world was different. Thus, the cycle breaking begins. After being diagnosed with tuberculosis, Arthur decides to spend the time he has left helping strangers with an array of problems and assisting those whose lives he feels he has negatively impacted. One of Arthur’s final moments is him either going back to get the money that will symbolize Arthur reclaiming a sense of personal power in the world that is crumbling around him or him helping John with one final major escape from the life of violence he was born into. This is after Arthur already made numerous decisions to save John from danger, whether it be a wolf pack or a prison island, because despite Arthur’s criticism of John’s actions, Arthur knows that deep down, John is not somebody who acts with the intention to be bad. Seeing this goodness and selflessness from a man who grew up in the same life as himself, John continues to try and be a different person for the sake of protecting his family. John tries hard for this, and he eventually builds a ranch for him, Abigail, and Jack to live on together and search for a sense of normalcy, which Abigail appreciates more than anything.

However, progress is not linear. Despite John working hard to outgrow the only lifestyle he ever really knew, he cannot fully escape the trauma and chaos that trails him. This is partially due to him occasionally slipping back into his old ways, especially in the face of danger, where he continues to fight rather than aim for peaceful means of mediation, and partially due to the American government doing what it does best: fail at true justice. Even though John has started to create a new life for himself, the government ignores their role in the development of the Van Der Linde gang, instead kidnapping John’s family years later and only agreeing to release them if John can take down Dutch, Bill, and Javier. They send him into the war-ridden Mexico region with minimal resources, assistance, or guidance, causing John to have to do what he used to do with Dutch, which is kill, meddle in other people’s battles, and get taken advantage of by more powerful forces. Once again, John only kills because he sees it as fighting for the greater good; a reality where he and his family can be free and his past can be eradicated. He does not take joy in fighting for or against the Mexican government, he is simply working with what little he has to save his family. Even then, we still see John’s heart through his care for Luisa, Bonnie, and even strangers that he assists on the road. Despite this and performing what the American government asked of him, they still gun him down at the game’s conclusion, which John accepts rather than evades because he wants his family to settle down and live to become something better, even if he is not there to see it.

Even though RDR1’s epilogue shows Jack to now be angry and hurt as well, there is still something inherently different about his life compared to that of John and Arthur. Jack’s dad was present in his life, even if imperfectly, he had a mother who loved him dearly, even though we know she passed away a few years after John did, and Jack has an understanding of the foundation of a life built around love and family. It is possible that Jack may have the same streaks of violence as John did, but for the first time, the Marston lineage is seeing a glimmer of hope that has seldom been seen before, all because one man dared to stop fighting against the past and instead fight for a brighter future, even if not for himself. Now, does all of this backstory and explanation pardon everything Arthur and John have done? Absolutely not. No human being is capable of getting through life without hurting people, involving themselves in situations they should not have a part in, only trusting perfect people, or making bad choices in the face of unfamiliarity or turmoil. However, it proves something greater than simply stating if John and Arthur are “good” men because oftentimes, people grow up in worlds where goodness is not an apparent reality. Yet, what can be said is that Arthur and John tried to better and fight for a greater, purer good, even at their own expense. Sure, their pasts cannot be eradicated, and they cannot change what is already done, but what they do have power over is how they shape the rest of the time they have left. So, they do what others have rarely done for them and take a gamble on embracing love to both change for the people they cherish and to be changed by those who love them.

All countries and communities are united through collective acts of violence, war, pride, and enabling of cruelty. The United States government and the Van Der Linde gang are both guilty in that regard. Yet, if the absence of all imperfections and the capability for one to escape the harsh circumstances they exist in is what makes somebody good, then nobody would ever be able to respect themselves, because, in one way or another, everybody hurts and gets hurt in return. What makes a true difference, however, is the ability to acknowledge one’s shortcomings, whether or not these are intentional, circumstantial, or implicit, and utilize that realization to push not to become perfect or guiltless, but better than before. At the end of the day, that urge to push for a gentler way of living for the sake of bringing peace to both yourself and who or what you love the most is what makes Arthur and John good people. Deeply complex, flawed, regretful, and troubled, but good. If everybody valued goodness as the desire to do better rather than fight against an unchangeable past, maybe the world as a whole would strive for decency and ultimately unite us all.

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Thank you for reading! This is my first time posting on Tumblr, and I am looking forward to posting and engaging with more commentary of RDR. My essay is not proofread, so I apologize for any mistakes. :)

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tgrailwar-zero · 4 months ago

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hm... a story to spark the heart huh... I want to try something light and fluffed up a little bit... maybe a lot... (ahem)...

Not so long ago, there was an Emperor clad in black and magenta. He was fighting in a war, and had been given a mission to retrieve treasure from a God alone. On his way there a confused wraith appeared, scared and not knowing where they were! No one could see or hear their cries; but the noble man was different. His kind heart heard their panic and spoke to them. Once calmed, the Emperor invited the lost Wraith on his quest to find the treasure!

On the way to the temple, the Emperor told about the Wraith about the treasure he sought, a magical key that could grant its holder power, and soon they arrived at the foot of the God's lair! The God was good natured and joyful, but still sent one of her familiars - a dinosaur! - to attack the Emperor as a test of strength and skill! Swift on his feet he gallantly mounted the familiar and rode it all the way to the top of her temple!

The God's smile was like the sun itself, impressed by the Emperors boldness and speed, she offered him the key and two other gifts - a feather and pulque. The Wraith cheered for the Emperor's victory, and they celebrated by downing the pulque in one gulp! After the celebration the Wraith faded away- but promised they would return to quest with their new friend again some day.

You stand before the tank, and place your hand against it. Your magic scatters petals, and your voice speaks. Speaks of stories of the past, both recent and the far distant. Memories, fairy tales, legends, fables, and the blurred lines between them all. You speak of a humanity far, far away and of a humanity closer than one could imagine.

And you try to connect this warrior to where you currently reside.

The Solar Cell.

A fool's paradise. A paradise of fools. A paradise made by fools.

Home to a nascent species, born purely by chance, being given a chance at existence. A chance to exist in a manner that goes above their predecessors.

To magi, this place would be considered a miracle. A place where phantoms of the past and children of the future work together to create a new humanity.

And yet, conflict simmers.

Conflict driven by desperation.

Conflict driven by idealism.

Conflict driven by fate.

Conflict created by a clash of ideals.

Whatever is built will be destroyed. Whatever is destroyed will be rebuilt. A vicious cycle, as faction upon faction, individual upon individual, tries to proclaim that they are 'just', each one missing one fragment of the whole picture as they rush towards their preferred ending.

That's what people strive towards as they fight, an 'ending'. The final page, the 'game clear', a shout of 'congratulations'.

The ability to fight for an 'ending', that is one's right.

Good ends, bad ends, happy ends, sad ends.

Or, even that unattainable 'golden ending'.

That fantastical 'shining ending' for everyone.

...Of course, such a thing is only possible in fiction.

A consequence-free world is an impossible world. Reality does not work that way. For someone to win, someone else has to lose. Only in fairy tales does the knight slay the evil dragon and save the princess, and only in reality does one imagine what would happen if the dragon was truly slain, and what it would mean for the world.

However, for the sake of convenience, let's say that this world that you're observing is a 'story'.

Well, certainly the idea of a 'golden ending' would seem even more ridiculous. Consider this, dying to a heroine? Twice? A different would-be heroine both times? What kind of twisted tale is this?

Ah… that's right. This is a twisted tale.

You sit amongst the shattered remains of a 'bad end'.

The main players have been taken off the board, and so you have taken the reins in order to give this world-- this 'story'-- worth.

However, as broken as this world may be, that also means that this world can be fixed, as it's still being observed as a 'story'.

Therefore, those efforts you've made have not been for naught. Like the beating wings of a butterfly, each action has created an effect, and shaped the world in ways deeper than one could imagine.

And eventually, as those choices begin to pile behind you, you'll be faced with a question.

'What does your happy ending look like?'

…Though perhaps that's jumping the gun right now.

Perhaps it is too far away to be imagined.

Rather than the 'end', let's focus on the 'now'. The 'here and now', to be exact.

After all, to anyone, this place would be a miracle. A place where phantoms of the past and children of the future work together to create a new humanity in this place.

And you, as the vestiges of the 'present', have chosen to make your mark as well.

So, another question comes forth. What will this story become?

Will it be a comedy?

A tragedy?

A 'good end' or a 'bad end'?

A 'dead end' or a 'golden end'?

Regardless…

These stories, these tales of fate, all share a common thread. And thus, as the story begins its third cycle, perhaps it should follow tradition.

And thus, we find ourselves back within the laboratory.

You place your hand against the tube as the mechanism is released, and you speak. You recount. You connect.

The mechanism is released, and the figure drops to the ground, his posture placing him into a kneel as he catches himself, the color beginning to return to his form.

The back of your hand begins to burn. A sharp, scorching pain as emblems are emblazoned upon it.

And yet, this pain feels right.

This pain means you succeeded.

Your mana surges, a feeling that you have not felt for what feels like ages.

You look upon him.

A swordsman, strong-shouldered, clear-eyed, and regal in stature stands before you amongst the scattered petals. You've seen many Servants in your time, each one different than the last. The great variations found within the consistent patterns of history and stories.

This knight, with shining armor and proud bearing says--

"I ask of you…"

"...Are you my Master?"

#thgw story #endless whispers #thgw: chapter 8 #thgw: chapter 9

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talonabraxas · 3 months ago

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“Om Namo Narayanaya” Cosmic Vishnu Talon Abraxas Lord Vishnu God Vishnu is a manifestation of the eternal and endless Parabrahmn. He is the prime mover that powers the objective world. He is the guardian that sustains this universe. God Vishnu is the substrate of all things. He is the origin of the tiniest atoms and the mightiest galaxies.

His abode lies in Kshirsagar, a timeless place far beyond the mortal world, where He likes to rest on his magnificent lotus throne. He walks with Devi Lakshmi, the goddess of wealth and good fortune.

Significance and Role: Vishnu is one of the Trimurtis; and the one most involved in the day-to-day affairs of this world. Because of His unbounded power, He never descends to the mortal world as himself. His will, however, still shapes the events, both on the granular and the cosmic scales. He takes countless avatars throughout history for this purpose. When the need arises, He appears as a mortal, to tip the scales of balance between the good and the evil.

God Vishnu is generally represented either seated or standing, on a bed of lotus, floating in the cosmic ocean of milk, the Kshirsagar. The thousand hoods of the Sheshanaga, the king of all serpents and the primal snake, form a protective parasol over the head of God Vishnu.

It’s a long-held tradition to represent Vishnu with light blue skin and four arms.

Avatars of Vishnu: Matsya, the fish, was the first avatar of Vishnu. In this form, he guided Manu during the great deluge. Kurma, the turtle, was the second and Varaha, the boar, was the third. The fourth avatar of Vishnu is Narasimha, the half-man half-lion being, that broke out of existence from within the pillars of the dungeons where Hiranyakashipu was torturing his son, Vishnu-bhakta Prahlada.

The fifth avatar was Vaman, the dwarf Brahman, who went to ask for alms from the great Asura king Bali (also referred to as Mahabali, or Maveli). Next are Parashurama, Rama, and Krishna. The ninth avatar of Vishnu depends on the tradition you choose to follow. Some people believe it to be Balarama, the son of Krishna’s foster parents, others say it’s Gautama the Buddha.

Kalki is the future avatar, slated to appear at the fag end of Kaliyuga, for the final battle between the good and the evil.

Benefits of Worshipping Him: God Vishnu is worshipped in thousands of names. Vishnu Sahasranama is a list of over a thousand names of God Vishnu. Each of these revered names describe a distinct aspect of the ultimate reality.

Boons from God Vishnu, while benefiting the devotee, also has a way of doing good for the world at large. Vishnu not only grants you what you ask for but what you really need. Being a Parabrahmn, God Vishnu can grant his devotees, true bliss and knowledge, when sought appropriately. If deemed worthy, a touch of Vishnu can provide a candidate, instant enlightenment, or the moksha. Mukti from Samsara Varta and vicious cycle of births and deaths.

God Vishnu is an object of reverence for gods and mortals alike. His avatars were heroic personalities, born to correct the wrongs of the world, and to provide courage and inspiration to the denizens of Mrityu-Loka, or the mortal Earth.

His Powers: God Vishnu is omnipotent. He can travel instantly to anywhere in any direction. He can see anything he turns his eyes towards. Nothing is hidden from him. He makes the world run. Vatam, or the movement of air, is the most expressive form of his influence. Through the breaths of life that mortals take, the Vatam enters their bodies, subtly changing their hearts and minds. He is the original magician and trickster. No one can grasp his true intentions unless he intends them to.

His Vehicle: Vishnu rides the mighty eagle, the Garuda. The Garuda is special because its original form is not part of this Brahmand. Similar to his master, Garuda also has taken many avatars in the lower worlds. One of them was Vainateya (son of Vinata) whose life was riddled with countless tales of valor, grit, and wisdom. Garuda embodies the wisdom of the Vedas themselves. It’s also a lesser-known fact that Eagles always play crucial cameos in all of God Vishnu’s incarnations in the lower worlds.

In his benevolent depiction, God Vishnu is represented sleeping on the coils of Sheshanaga, the primal thousand-headed serpent, who like the Garuda exists apart from this Brahmand or the universe. Shesha is considered both a servant and a manifestation of Vishnu and has descended to the Prithvi-Loka as Lakshamana in the Ramayana era, Balarama during the Mahabharata era, and Ramanujacharya, the proponent of Vishishtadvaita School of Vedanta, during the Kaliyuga.

Weapons and Artifacts: Vishnu wields many weapons. Chief among them is the Sudarshana Chakra, the deadly discus of death, swirling around his forefinger. Sudarshana Chakra, being an invincible weapon, is used rarely. There are zero, five, eight, and sixteen weapon depictions of Vishnu in some of his popular representations like Narsimha, Mahavishnu, Ashtabhuja, and Shodasayudha.

Vishnu is the bearer of the conch of divine knowledge, the Panchajanya. Vishnu and his avatars are known to blow the conch shell to herald both good times and wars.

Vishnu, in his four-armed representation, is shown holding a mace and a lotus, apart from the chakra and the conch. The mace is named Kaumodaki and is a mark of authority. Padma, the lotus symbolizes purity and transcendence.

In some of his less common representations, Vishnu is sometimes also represented as wielding the celestial bow Sharanga or the Nandaka sword. The Nandaka sword is believed to be a sentient weapon with the ability to descend to the lower Lokas as avatars in service of its master, Vishnu.

In the Vaishnavite traditions, it is held that it was God Vishnu who created Brahma and taught him about Vedas. It is the knowledge of Vedas that allowed God Brahma to create the universe and its myriad aspects. While Brahma may be the architect, it’s Vishnu who was the ultimate supplier of the building blocks.

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cherry-holmes · 1 year ago

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Glimpse of a life with Javier Peña

Chapter 15

MAIN MASTERLIST

Summary: Six months ago you spoke with Javi for the last time. Now, you tried to continue with your life without him.

SERIES MASTERLIST

Previous chapter

Pairing: Javier Peña x Female Reader

Word count: 6.9k

Warnings: Angst. Talk of depression. Mention of daddy issues. Brief description of reader’s body. I decide not to give more warnings to avoid spoilers, so keep the reading under your own responsibility, but in general this contains +18 material.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

I knew you

Leavin' like a father

Running like water, I

And when you are young, they assume you know nothing

But I knew you'd linger like a tattoo kiss

I knew you'd haunt all of my what-ifs

The smell of smoke would hang around this long

'Cause I knew everything when I was young

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Finally, on December 2, 1993, Pablo Escobar died in Medellín, bringing an end to years of violence and fear to the country. Of course, the ghosts of evil would linger over for a long time. The narcoviolence was a vicious cycle that corroded everything it touched. But for now, the police of Colombia and the DEA had shown that there were still good people and hope. Even if ir wasn't completely true.

When you saw Steve's photo in the newspaper, you felt proud of him, of course, but you knew that Javier deserved to be there too. He had given many years of sacrificing his own safety and personal life to fulfill his duty. There was no other American who had done as much for his country than Javier Peña. He deserved recognition, he deserved to be decorated and rewarded for his years of service.

But instead, he was being judged for using unorthodox methods to do his job. It wasn't ideal, but it was effective in the end. Who hasn't looked for alternatives in their most desperate moments? They didn't deserve a man like him. And now he was paying the price.

You hadn't heard anything about him since that last call, six months ago. You didn't know if he had been judged or sentenced yet. And you weren't sure if you even wanted to know.

Days turned into weeks, and before you knew it, weeks had turned into months. While everything around you seemed to continue its normal course, you felt stuck in Bogotá. Memories of warm nights with him, hurried breakfasts in his truck, and cozy dinners at home lingered, haunting you like ghosts of a past life. You tried to distract yourself, to focus on the routine of daily life, but thoughts of Javier lingered like shadows in the corners of your mind. You wore the necklace he gave you on your birthday like a charm. It was your most precious treasure, the three pearls representing the love he had for you and you for him. Your fingertips sought it out every time you felt down, sometimes unconsciously.

You found it difficult to concentrate on something else, your thoughts constantly drifting back to him, to the uncertainty that clouded his future.

You started to think that maybe the problem lay within you, that you were somehow unworthy of having the man you loved beside you. Doubts ate away at your confidence, questioning your worthiness of love in any form. In the late hours of the night, you grappled with the echoes of your past, recalling the pain of your father's abandonment when you were just a child. That trauma left a deep hole of abandonment in your heart, a wound that never fully healed. And now, facing Javier's absence, it felt like history was repeating itself. The two men you had loved the most had left you, leaving behind a trail of broken promises and shattered dreams. Yes, you still had your beloved grandfather, José, but in those moments of anxiety and depression, you couldn't help but wonder what was wrong with you to not been worthy of love.

Your mother wasn't very helping either, as she wasn't very kind towards you. She never asked you how you were now that you came back or told you she missed you. And when everything with Javi happened, she made cruel comments, hinting that for him you were just another woman and that it was your fault for sleeping with him and not respecting yourself.

However, you had your sisters who supported you through the grief, and the love of your abuelo meant everything.

He was a lawyer, and he offered you a temporary job on his independent buffet while you find a job that suit your requirements.

Losing your dream job as a translator in a foreign country, enduring very difficult situations that put your life in danger, and losing the love of your life—all the trauma and heartbreak left a hole in your chest. It felt as though a part of you was missing, as though you were navigating the world with a piece of your soul torn away.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

The Saturday sun bathed the cobblestone streets in a warm, golden glow as you emerged from the church, your heart still echoing the hymns of worship. Beside you, your beloved abuelo walked, his arm linked with yours, his weathered face radiant with the peace of faith.

"What do you want to eat, papá?" You asked him.

"Sarita told me about a new restaurant," he answered as your mother joined his side, "She said they have delicious barbacoa and consomé."

"I don't think you should eat that, papá," your mother intervened, her brow frowned. From the look on her face, you knew she was going to confront Sara for craving such food for grandpa. "The doctor said..."

"The doctor said many things, María," he replied firmly. "I'm going to die anyway, so I'm gonna eat my birria!"

You smiled to your abuelo's stubbornness, and although you knew that your mother could be right, you just couldn't help but want to fulfill his cravings.

"Okay, papá, we all going to have barbacoa," you promised.

Before your mother could say anything to you, your nephews and nieces ran by your side, pointing towards the churro seller.

"¡Tía, cómpranos churros!" they shouted, and you found yourself outnumbered by them.

"Okay, okay!" You smiled as you watched them bouncing in front of you. "Everyone line up by height and ask the señor de los churros nicely for yours."

Your nephews and nieces cheered at unison and ran towards the vending cart. Both your sisters insisted on pay for their own children churros, but you told them that you wanted to buy churros for everyone.

As your sisters and their husbands agreed with your grandfather and your mother to all go to eat to the restaurant Sara propose to your abuelo, you tried to help the churro's vendedor not going crazy with all four children. All of them were under ten years old, so you can imagine how noisy and playful – and troubling – they can be.

As the kids devoured their churros, you juggled between keeping an eye on them and ensuring they didn't wander off too far. Their laughter filled the air, echoing against the cobblestone streets as they ran around in playful abandon.

Guiding your nephews and nieces back to your family, you barely noticed the bustling activity around you until a familiar voice pierced through the chaos. "I've always known that you look even more beautiful around kids."

You froze in disbelief, your heart skipping a beat at the sound of his voice. You turned around and saw Javier standing there. For a moment, time seemed to stand still as you took in the sight of him. He looked different, yet somehow the same—the same rugged charm, the same warm gaze that had always captivated you. His mere presence was like a jolt of electricity, sending shivers down your spine and stirring emotions you thought long buried.

As the reality of his presence sank in, a whirlwind of emotions swept through you. Part of you wanted to run into his arms, to hold him close and never let go. Another part wanted to push him away, to confront him for leaving without a word, for breaking your heart with his silence.

But as you looked into his eyes, you saw the pain and regret reflected in his gaze—the same pain you had been carrying in your heart all these months. And in that moment, all your anger and hurt melted away, replaced by a flood of overwhelming love and longing.

"Javi?" your voice cracked, eyes inevitably flooded with tears. ''How...?''

"I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice barely above a breath. "I shouldn't have left you like that."

Without another word, you closed the distance between you, your heart pounding with anticipation. Javier's eyes softened as you reached out, your arms trembling as they closed around his torso. The touch was electrifying, sending a surge of warmth coursing through your veins.

You couldn't understand exactly how he was right there, what happened during all those months?, how the hell did he found you? But he was there, he was between your arms again... His warmth, his scent, his beating heart beneath your ear, were things you thought you would never feel again.

"¿Tía?" you heard the little voice of Ana, the youngest of your nieces, as she pulled the skirt of your dress. "Is this Javi? The boy you always cry for?"

You glanced down at her, innocent eyes wide with curiosity, and then back at Javier, uncertainty clouding your thoughts. How could you explain the complexities of love and loss to a child?

"Ana, come here," Silvia, her mother, approached to grab her. She looked at Javi and then back at your watering, reddened eyes. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah," you answered, a smile prompting on your lips, blush coloring your cheeks. It was the first time in a long, long time that you felt a genuine sense of emotion and happiness since you arrived in your birth-town. "Silvi, this is Javi. Javi, this is my sister."

Javier extended his hand towards Silvia, a warm smile gracing his lips. "Nice to meet you, Silvia," he greeted, his voice gentle and sincere.

Silvia's expression changed upon recognizing his name. Her eyes softened as she shook Javier's hand. "Likewise," she replied, her eyes flickering with curiosity. Of course, she had memorized his name and appearance through the photos you had shown her and Sara of your time in Colombia with Javi. Your sisters had wiped your tears and listened to your heartbreaking cries for him.

You saw your family approaching you, everyone seeming curious and expectant. Your hands were shaking, your heart felt like it could punch through your chest. So had so many questions, so many things to say to him. Suddenly, you felt overwhelmed.

"Buenas tardes," your abuelo approached to you. You recognized that look on his face, the same he had every time you or your sisters met a new boy. Your abuelo had always been the jealous kind, but in a sweet way.

Javier greeted your abuelo, extending his hand in a gesture of respect. "Mucho gusto, Don José. Javier Peña," he said, his voice resonating with genuine warmth, remembering your grandfather's name.

Your abuelo's eyes twinkled mischievously as he shook Javier's hand. "¡Ah! So you're the famous Javier," he replied, his tone tinged with playful teasing.

Javi looked at you with a playful arched brow, causing your face turned completely red, like a tomato. You were the most gorgeous tomato he had ever seen in his life.

"Everyone, I want you to meet Javier," you said, gesturing towards him with a smile. "Javier, this is my family."

Your sisters and their husbands exchanged glances, their eyes bright with curiosity as they greeted Javier warmly. "Nice to meet you, Javier," Sara said, extending her hand.

Javier shook her hand with a polite nod. "You too. You must be Sara."

Sara chimed in, her excitement palpable. "Yeah, it's great to finally meet you in person."

Your mother, who had been observing quietly, offered a reserved nod of acknowledgment, her expression unreadable.

As the greetings subsided, Silvia turned to Javier. "Hey, why don't you join us for lunch at the restaurant? We'd love to have you."

Before Javier could respond, you interjected gently, "Actually, if you don't mind, I'd like to have a private conversation with Javier first. We can catch up with everyone later this afternoon at home."

Javier's stomach churned at your words. "Have a private conversation" sounded like you were about to have a serious discussion. He wasn't expecting you to receive him as if nothing happened, as if he hadn't broken your heart. He was surprised and relieved when you hugged him upon seeing him, but he thought it might have been just a quick reaction, an impulsive action prompted by the heat of the moment.

Silvia's eyebrows raised in surprise, but she nodded understandingly. "Of course, hermanita. We'll see you both at home then."

With a collective agreement, your family bid you and Javier farewell, dispersing toward the church's parking lot with chatter and laughter trailing behind them. You turned to Javier, a mixture of anticipation and nerves swirling in your chest, ready to finally have the private conversation you'd been yearning for.

"So, shall we take a taxi?" you said finally.

"Actually, I brought my truck," he said, pointing at the park across the street, where you saw a red 90s Chevrolet Silverado.

"You drove all the way here?" The thought of him driving three hours, crossing the border, just to see you stirred a whirlwind of emotions within you. It was both overwhelming and heartwarming to know that he had gone to such lengths to be with you.

"Of course, from Laredo" he confessed.

As you walked across the street towards his truck, the atmosphere between you felt familiar, bringing back a flood of memories. Javier unlocked the truck and held the door open for you, as you settled into the passenger seat, the scent of his cologne enveloped you, filling you with a sense of comfort.

Once you were there, feeling overwhelmed by his return, after everything you had been throgh being away from him, thinking he was even in jail. It was too much, you barely could process it... You finally broke, as soon as Javi closed the drivers door, you started crying.

Javier's heart ached as he watched you cry, his own emotions swirling inside him like a tempest. He reached out tentatively, his hand hovering over yours, unsure if he should offer comfort or give you space.

He called your sweet name in a way only he could. You felt shivers just hearing it, reminding you of the power he had over you.

You turned to him, tears streaming down your cheeks, your eyes filled with a mixture of sadness, relief, and confusion. "Why, Javi?" you whispered, your voice trembling with emotion. "Why did you leave me?"

Javier's heart clenched at the pain in your voice, the anguish etched into your features. He took a deep breath, steeling himself to face the truth, to lay bare his soul before you.

"I thought I was doing the right thing for you," he began, his voice barely above a whisper. "I was trying to protect you."

You wanted to ask again "why?" but you knew it was unnecessary because you understood why. He was trying to shield you from becoming attached to a convict, a man who was not physically free. It had taken you a long time to grasp the magnitude of the situation and his sacrifice. Javier Peña wasn't a selfish man.

"It's important to me for you to understand that at that moment everything seemed to be against me," he continued, his eyes staring at you with longing and desperation, as he feared you wouldn't want to hear him or wouldn't believe him. "Don Berna betrayed me and forced Judy Moncada to leave Colombia and spill everything about the DEA agent who was foolish enough to trust them. I was told that I had committed a federal crime by getting involved with Los Pepes."

For a moment, the gravity of his words left you speechless, grappling with the enormity of what he had endured. You knew firsthand the dangers and complexities of his work, but hearing the details of his ordeal sent a chill down your spine.

"I had to make a choice," Javier continued, his voice tinged with regret. "I couldn't risk your safety, not when everything was falling apart around me. I thought I was doing what was best for you, even if it meant sacrificing my own happiness."

New tears welled up in your eyes as you reached out to him, your hand trembling as it touched his. In that moment, words seemed inadequate to express the depth of your emotions, the overwhelming rush of love and forgiveness that flooded your heart.

"I missed you," you confessed, your voice barely contained. "I was devastated. Not only for how things between us ended, but for thinking about what would happen to you..."

Javier's gaze softened as he listened to your heartfelt words. He reached out, gently brushing away your tears with his thumb, his touch sending a wave of warmth through you.

"I missed you too, every moment," he admitted, his voice filled with raw emotion. "Not a day went by when I didn't think about you. Te amo."

"Javi?" you spoke softly, wiping your tears and turning your body to fully face him.

"Yes, bonita?" he said, and your stomach fluttered with thousands of butterflies that had been sleeping, waiting to hear that word he used to call you. Bonita, you'll always be his bonita.

"Kiss me already," you whispered, the words escaping your lips before you could hold them back.

With a tender smile, Javier leaned closer, his gaze softening as he brushed a stray tear from your cheek. The air between you crackled with anticipation, the weight of months apart dissipating with each heartbeat.

As his lips met yours, a surge of warmth washed over you, igniting a fire that had been smoldering deep within. You let out a shaky moan when his tongue met yours, sending electricity to your core.

Javi growled at your reaction. He was so needed of your touch, your kisses; that skin-to-skin sensation he sink in when he made love with you. Cause even during the darkest moments when he feared he might spend the rest of his life behind bars, he couldn't bring himself to be with anyone else. He was yours, in body and spirit.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

You and Javi were hungry and had so much to talk about. So you guided him through the city, searching for somewhere quiet to eat and converse. As he sat across from you at the table, perusing the menu, you still couldn't believe he was actually there—free and as handsome as ever. It felt like years had passed since Bogotá, the last time you saw him. Or maybe you suddenly died, your heart finally giving up missing him, and that was heaven.

Javi finally looked up from the menu, his gaze meeting yours. "Everything okay, sweetheart?" he asked, concern evident in his eyes as his broad hand reached across the table to touch yours.

"No... I mean, yes!" you said, your voice trailing off. "It's just... I'm so, so happy you're here, but I still can't process what happened."

Javi smiled, his eyes reflecting a mixture of tenderness and longing. "I promise, mi vida, I'll never leave you again," he vowed, his words a silent promise to cherish and protect you for as long as he lived.

The waiter approached, and you both placed your orders. After she left, you spoke again. "How did you find me?" you asked with genuine curiosity.

Monterrey was a sprawling metropolis, and in the '90s world, finding something or someone without an address or a phone number was no small feat.

Javier leaned forward, his expression radiating warmth. "It wasn't easy, but I remembered when you told me about going to church every Sunday with your family," he began, his voice low and intimate. "I recalled the name of the church and the municipality, so as soon as I arrived in the city, I searched for it. It took me all day yesterday, but I managed to get a lead, and it paid off. I found the right one."

You nodded, deeply impressed by his determination and resourcefulness. He was a proper DEA agent who spent years looking for and taking down sicarios. Of course, he was going to find his girlfriend on the first try. It was very sweet how he would do anything just to be with you, though, to have you back.

"I was fuckin' terrified that you were angry with me for leaving you like that," he continued, his voice tinged with regret. "Or worse, that you may have someone else already."

You looked at Javier, sensing the vulnerability in his eyes, and felt a pang of empathy. The thought of him fearing your anger or the possibility of you being with someone else touched you deeply.

"Javi, I could never be angry with you for trying to protect me," you said softly. "I was angry and devastated at first, I'm not gonna lie," you confessed, your chest aching with memories of those endless nights of overthinking and tears. "But it wasn't directed towards you, but towards life. I couldn't accept the decision you had to make, but with time, I came to understand that you only wished the best for me, and it was very sweet and unselfish."

You reached your delicate hand across the table to grasp his. "And as for someone else, there's never been anyone else for me. It's always been you."

His eyes softened, relief flooding his features as he squeezed your hand gently. "You're the only one for me, too, bonita. You're the best thing that could ever happen to this son of a bitch."

You leaned forward to kiss his lips. The familiarity of his touch was overwhelming and comforting at the same time.

When the meal was over and both of you were back in his truck, you asked him where he was staying.

Javier glanced at you, his expression thoughtful as he considered your question. He mentioned a hotel downtown, and you recognized it from what you had heard.

"You can stay a couple of days. I want to show you the city and introduce you properly to my family, if you don't mind," you proposed.

"Me encantaría pasar todo el tiempo del mundo contigo, mi vida preciosa," he said, and you flushed at the sweet nickname. "Actually, I was thinking about moving to a hotel closer to your house."

"That won't be necessary. You can stay with me," you offered without hesitation, feeling a rush of warmth at the idea of having him close again. "I'm living with my abuelo y mi mamá."

"I don't want to be a bother," he began, but you took his hand gently and looked into his puppy eyes.

"You're family now, and family never bothers," you assured him. "My abuelo has a spacious house, and you can stay in the guest bedroom. You know, we can sleep together..."

"That's okay, baby. I understand," he agreed, leaning over to place a kiss on your lips. "So, where do you want to go now? Wanna go home?" he asked, turning on the gear.

"Actually," you began, your cheeks burning and your heart pounding with anticipation, "I was thinking that we could go to your hotel."

With a mischievous grin, Javier glanced at you, his eyes alight with excitement. "Can we?" he asked, his voice filled with playful anticipation.

You smiled shyly, nodding as your cheeks turned cherry red. "Unless you want to spend the evening elsewhere."

Javier's eyes sparkled with amusement as he caught your playful tone. "Oh, I'm perfectly content to spend the evening wherever you desire," he replied, his voice laced with a hint of mischief.

You chuckled softly, feeling a rush of excitement tinged with nervousness.

"Be careful what you wish for, baby," he added, his voice filled with longing. "I've missed you so damn much."

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

The hotel room was nice, elegant and spacious. But of course you didn't noticed that at first, as you were very busy devouring Javi's mouth. He guided you towards the bed, hands squeezing the soft flesh of your hips; yours cupping his head.

"I love you," he muttered against your mouth, pausing briefly as you unbuttoned his shirt. "You don't have any idea how much I needed you. I couldn't breathe..."

His voice wavered with emotion, and you couldn't help but notice the vulnerability in his tone. Your fingers brushed against his lips, a silent gesture of reassurance. You still had a lot of questions, things that you would like to know, but you were sure that you had a lot of time to do it. For example, when his next move was to get rid of his shirt and you saw the scar on his side, where you knew he had been shot. Your fingers traced the damaged skin, your throat constricting at the sight of him being hurt, where he could have lost his life...

In that moment, you didn't want to cry anymore, to regret things that, fortunately, were in the past now.

"I'm here," your voice was barely a whisper, but he was close enough to hear every word. "I'm not going anywhere."

Javi nodded in agreement, leaning in to meet your lips once again. His skilled fingers unzipped the back of your dress, sending shivers all over your body as his fingertips met your skin. The light fabric pooled around your feet, his gaze darkening as it roamed over your body with desire.

His hands captured your waist, caressing the skin of your ribs and hips. His touch felt desperate, yet gentle. His fingers traced the exposed, soft skin at the edge of your bra, then smoothly moved to unclasp it, freeing the lace that covered your breasts.

You were hypnotized by the waves of heat emanating from both your naked torsos. Restless to relive that skin-to-skin sensation you longed for so much.

"God, how I missed your body," he whispered, almost unconsciously, as he devoured you with his eyes.

Your cheeks flushed even more, a shy smile appearing on your lips. "And I missed your touch, Javi," you confessed back.

With a mischievous grin, Javier glanced at you, his eyes alight with excitement. "Did you?," his voice filled with playfulness. "Did you touch yourself when you missed me?" He wanted to know. You nodded, an innocent gesture that made his cock throb on his pants. "C'mere. Show me," he ordered, leading you to the bed, where he had you lie back in the center.

Javi knelt in front of you, between your legs, your core aching with anticipation. "C'mon, take your panties off," he ordered, and you gladly obeyed.

Pushing your hips up, you grasped the edges of your panties with your fingers and began to slide the garment down your legs.

He couldn't help but hiss when he saw the glistening between your folds, where your honey pooled for him. "Touch yourself, baby, just like how you did when you were thinking of me," he whispered.

You traced a path on your skin, from the place above your belly button, down your body until your delicate middle finger met your slick. Javier was mesmerized as he watched you move up and down along your pussy, taking extra care every time you reached your clit, causing little whimpers to escape from your lips.

Suddenly, Javi felt his pants getting tighter; it was almost painful not to free himself. His hands went to his belt, and he started working on it. "Keep going," he encouraged you, as your eyes followed the glorious path of pubic hair that preceded his cock. You bit your lip, intensifying the movements on your pussy, the sound of your wetness filling the room.

"Don't be shy," he said, his voice thick with lust. "That little pussy looks so good."

You took his word and inserted one finger into your warm body. His breath quivered at the sight; he couldn't contain himself anymore.

"How does it feel?" he asked, as he took his hardened cock out of his briefs. You whimpered at the sight, your walls clenching, as if they were screaming to be stretched by its length. Javi took himself in hand and started jerking off to satisfy his own itch.

"G-good," you mumbled. It was true, but you knew it was nothing compared to the feeling of his cock inside you. So you added a second finger to try to calm your urgency, the gushing sounds surrounding you as you moved your fingers in and out of your pussy. But it wasn't enough. You wanted him.

"Javi..." you murmured.

"Tell me, bonita," he responded, his voice filled with anticipation. "Tell me what you want."

"I want you," you said, without stopping your movements.

"You want me? You want this?" he teased, showing off his cock right in front of you. A pearl of precum glistened on its tip, veins pulsating along its length. Your mouth watered at the sight. "C'mon, take it. It's yours."

He didn't have to tell you twice. You stopped what you were doing and knelt on the mattress to press your body against his. Your hand went directly to his cock, eliciting a growl from his chest.

Javi's cock fit perfectly in your tiny hand as you moved it up and down while kissing him passionately.

You let your body fall over his, and he didn't hesitate to allow himself to be placed underneath you. Your lips then moved to his neck, traveling down to his chest, his stomach... When he realized you were actually going south, he took your chin and made you look at him.

"That's not necessary..." he clarify. He wasn't expecting that.

"I want to," you insisted.

Without another word, you positioned yourself right over his cock, taking it in your hand and placing a kiss on its tip. "Fuck..." he reacted.

You were unsure what to do, as it was the first time you'd done it. You only wanted to make him feel good.

So you tried licking its head, the salty taste on your tongue making your pussy clench around nothing. Then, you attempted to take the head into your warm mouth. You had to open your mouth wider than you expected, your hand gently placed on its base. It was too big, hard, and too long.

You bobbed your head at a constant rhythm, encouraged by the moans and hisses he began to let out. Javi's hand went to your hair, gathering it into a ponytail, both to let you work easily and to clear his view. "Good job, baby," he praised.

When you tried to go further, its head at the back of your throat made you gag, so you had to take a breath. "Take it easy," he said reassuringly as he tucked a stray strand of your hair behind your ear. "You're doin' amazing."

You went back to it, but this time a little lower. "Holy shhh..." he growled, feeling the wetness and warmth of your tongue licking his balls. They tasted salty, heavy on your lips. You closed your hand around his length, moving it up and down to please him. Slurping noises filled the room, amplifying the intensity. "You look so pretty taking my cock like that baby."

You alternated between using your mouth and your hand on his cock and his balls, growing more confident with each movement, trying to take him deeper as you could. Your mouth felt like heaven for him, but he needed to stop. He wanted to fuck to you properly instead of just cum on your tongue. There would be another chance for that.

After a moment, Javi sat on the bed and gestured for you to do the same. You could barely catch your breath before his mouth captured yours, his arm around your waist. You knelt in front of him, providing easy access to your breasts, and he didn't miss the opportunity, capturing one of your nipples into his mouth. You threw your head back, moaning at the sensation, your fingers tangled in his hair.

He worshipped your body, squeezing your hips and back, massaging your ass with his broad hands. Then his fingers found your soaked pussy, taking advantage of how wet you were as he introduced one of them inside you. You whimpered, moving your hips over his hand, desperate to quell the need for him. He added a second thick finger, stretching you so damn good. They slipped in and out without effort, and Javi could feel your slick running down the bare palm of his hand.

Javi licked the sensitive skin of your nipple before shifting to your other breast. He sucked and played with the tip of his tongue on the nipple, just like he did when he played with your clit, like a starved man.

"Javi..." you whimpered.

Once he was satisfied with how wet you were, he guided his cock to your entrance as you instinctively lowered your hips. Both of you moaned as he made his way inside you, stretching your walls. The sensation was painfully familiar for both of you, the feeling of being connected in an intimate, raw way. It was as if you were born for each other, like you belonged together beyond the physical realm.

He didn't waste any time, going straight to help you move over him. Once you understood the assignment, your hips started working almost on their own. "That's it, bonita, give it to me."

You could feel him very deep inside you, his tip brushing against the entrance of your cervix, his balls thrusting against you every time you went down.

Your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer to kiss him, engaging in a battle of tongues and a tangle of legs.

"Your cock feels amazing, mi amor, la extrañé mucho," you whispered in his ear before you bite his earlobe.

"That's why you wanted to suck my cock?" he asked, his fingers gripping tighter on your hips, urging you to move faster. "My fuckin' dirty girl, so right for me..."

"Wanna see how dirty I can get?" placing your hands on his chest, you pushed him back so he could lie down again.

He was pleased with the view. The curves of your body, every roll, every pore, every freckle, every stretch mark. You were so sexy and gorgeous.

He tried to reach for your body, but you took his wrists and placed them over his head. You started moving your hips: up and down, front and back. At first, it was slow, savoring every inch of his cock slipping inside you. Then, you moved faster, riding him as whimpers escaped from your mouth, joining the skin-to-skin sound of your bodies thrusting together. Your hands went to his chest for more balance as you rode him.

"That's it, baby. Don't stop...fuck..." he grunted, his hands on your ass to help you keep going.

You slowed down when your legs began to ache, leaning down to capture his lips. His broad, warm hands caressed your hair, trailing down to your shoulders and back until they reached your waist. With a swift, smooth movement, Javi turned you around. Before you could process it, your body was beneath his, and he penetrated you again. This time, the soft moan you made when you felt him inside was silenced by his mouth.

"I love you, bonita," he promised, moving his pelvis against yours.

With your hands cupping his head, little whimpers escaping your lips, you echoed the sentiment. "I love you so much, Javi."

His thrusts grew harder and faster, his arms bearing his weight to avoid crushing you. His growls and whimpers were music to your ears. Your lips caressed the soft skin of his neck, your hands roamed everywhere along his broad back. He was lost in you, shivers crossing his entire being every time he reached that deep spot inside you, eliciting cries of his name from your lips.

"You like that, bonita? Hm?" he breathed out, his voice captivated by his own pleasure. "Fuck, I love your pussy."

Your orgasm was so close, he could tell by the way your walls clenched around his length, and the rivers of your nectar emanating from your cunt. You tried to warn him, but you could only mumble as your body shuddered beneath him. "I know, baby... Fuck, I'm gonna cum too."

You felt how he was doubtful about his next move. He wanted you to come, of course, but he was so dangerously close to his own release that he needed to be careful not to come inside you. But you were so horny and lost on the pleasure that you knew you want his load dripping out your pussy.

So you tangled your legs around his torso, forcing him inside you. "I'm gonna cum..." he warned.

"It's okay... I want you to fill me up..." you moan.

"Yeah? That's what you want, honey?" He cooed, his lips placing soft, wet kissed on your jawline.

You nodded, "Ye-yes! Fuck, Javiii!" that's the only thing you could say, as his movements were almost erratic, hungrily against you.

"I'm gonna fuck a baby into you... What about that?" he grunted, the mere thought of it made the both of you shiver with pleasure.

"Yes! Oh my... Yes! I-wa.... I'm wanna have your baby, Javi," you mumbled, so lost on the moment that you couldn't even think about the weight of the words you spoke.

"I'm gonna cum so deep on you that you're gonna smell like me for days, baby."

Those were the words that made you finally lost it. Your entire body seemed to implode for a moment before it exploded on a devastating orgasm. Throwing your head back against the mattress, your nails digging on the muscles of his arms and toes curling as your squirted on his cock. A silent scream of pleasure took the shape of Javi's name.

With one last final thrust, Javier followed you reaching his release between deep-voice whimpers and grunts of your name over and over again. You felt his warm load filling up, mixing with your slick, making you clenched even more, milking him so damn good.

As he felt himself softening, he pulled out and lay beside you as both of you tried to catch your breath again. Finally, Javi wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close to his chest, the warmth of his body comforting against your skin. You lay there together in silence, the only sounds filling the room were the rhythmic beating of your hearts and the soft exhales as you both recovered from the intensity of your lovemaking.

After a while, Javier felt your body shake a bit, and it wasn't long before he heard you sniffing. Were you crying? He tried to see your face, but you hid from him with your face against his chest. It was evident that you were crying. He felt a pang in his chest, concern washing over his face as he tried to make you look up at him.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice charged with worry and guilt. "Did I hurt you?"

"No, no," you rushed to say, wiping your tears with your fingers as his brushed your hair and placed it behind your ear. "You didn't do anything. I'm just so happy."

Javier's expression softened as he pulled you closer, wrapping his arms around you protectively. "I'm here, mi amor," he murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. "I'm not leaving you ever again."

You melted into his embrace, feeling safe and loved in his arms, the bliss of your orgasms still lingering on your bodies. After a moment of silence, he spoke again, his fingers gently tracing circles on your back. "I really meant it."

Struggling not to fall asleep, since you still had to return to your grandfather's house, you asked, "What?" Your voice was soft, barely audible above the hushed rhythm of your breathing.

"I want to have babies with you." His words hung in the air, tinged with both sincerity and excitement.

You flushed, a warmth spreading across your cheeks as you processed his declaration. Your heart started to beat faster, and you didn’t even think he was completely serious yet.

"Well, we have to get married first, then," you replied, a hint of playfulness in your tone.

"I know,” he added, determination on his tone, “I'm going to ask your grandfather for your hand tomorrow." His eyes meeting yours with unwavering resolve.

"Are you serious?" Your voice was tinged with surprise, a mixture of disbelief and anticipation.

Javier nodded, his gaze softening as he tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "Absolutely serious," he affirmed, his tone earnest. "¿Quieres casarte conmigo?”

Your heart fluttered at his words, a rush of emotions welling up inside you. New tears of joy fell down your cheeks as you nodded repeatedly. "¡Sí! Sí quiero, Javi. Quiero casarme contigo," you admitted, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

"Then it's settled," he declared, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead, pulling you closer to him again. "Tomorrow, I'll talk to your grandfather, and soon after, we'll start planning our wedding."

You nestled closer to him, feeling a sense of contentment wash over you. You still couldn’t believe what was happening in that moment. Just that morning, your heart ached with his absence, and you couldn't imagine seeing him ever again. If someone had told you that same afternoon you would be in his arms again, making love with him, and practically engaged, you wouldn't have believed it. You would have thought it was a cruel joke. And yet, there he was with you, vowing to share a life together.

NEXT CHAPTER

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fipindustries · 6 months ago

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Im fucking sick and tired of hearing how the current push to the right is the result of people getting tired of the excesses of the left.

First of all because that is where the buck stops for them, it never crosses their mind that the left might have been radicalized previously by the prior excesses of the right. This all started ten years ago when feminists went crazy for no apparent reason, and if the current vicious cycle started it started because of the left, bush??? Reagan??? Who the fuck are those guys, history started with obama guys.

Second of all because after four years of trump noone was excusing the left. And 4 years from now if we suddenly see a whole crazy wave of woke people going "extreme" fucking nobody is going to go "well you have to understand them, after four years of crazy republican policies what did you expect"

Because the truth of the matter is that the people who throw around that excuse dont give a shit about "understandable responses" and "inevitable radicalization" and "historical analisis" they just think the left is the biggest boogieman ever and the right is just this annoying nuisance that can be tolerated. If the left goes extreme it is because leftists are evil and if the right goes extreme is because the left pushed them into that, all moral culpability goes always to the left. Its motivated thinking of the worst kind, its disengenious propaganda, It pure and simple bias. Youre not a centrist if you believe this, and if you call yourself that youre liying to yourself

#Politics

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your-dear-memmy · 4 months ago

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Tokyo Ghoul:re ending thoughts +Juuzou meta p. 2

[Sooo I just finished Tokyo Ghoul:re and I've got quite a lot on my mind abt the last arc bc this series has consumed my brain]

Warning: SPOILERS!!

I've heard plenty of people complain about how rushed it was, and while reading the ending I didn't think it was too huge of an issue, but man do I feel unfulfilled right now. The dragon arc went by so quick that it's like nothing ever happened at all, and most of its emotional weight was lost on me.

But first of all, I want to talk about the Implications.

What is up with the Dragon's orphans slowly gaining the intelligence of 5 year olds, and the characters speculating that was how ghouls were born?? what?? how was that just merely mentioned, why was it only glossed over?? My mind EXPLODED at that notion.

Is there gonna be a new species of ghouls now that will gain the same intelligence as ghouls and humans, while still posing a threat? It became all about changing the world in the end, but it just seemed to really center around Kaneki’s own happy ending, because these implications for the world are astounding. Certainly, what Kaneki truly wanted was to keep his loved ones safe, but what I mean is that the consequences for the world as a whole aren't as positive as they're presented to be.

IT FEELS LIKE EVERYTHING WENT BACK TO THE START!!

Maybe these dragon orphans are supposed to represent a vicious cycle of life and war or whatever, but that wasn't really explained because they're just THERE. It feels like the war was all for nothing because now there's new enemies people are losing their lives for, and are being trained at academies to engage in combat with. Perhaps they're new enemies that kill parents of children that go on to become new-age "investigators" to avenge their families, like it used to be against the entirety of ghoul-kind.

It's obvious not every ghoul would play along so it makes sense there are still some harmful ghouls, but these dragon things gaining intelligence is seriously mind boggling. Wdym that's how ghouls were born?? And yall are exterminating them? Why are they attacking??

I feel like my time just got wasted cuz what do you mean these new enemies are getting smarter? Will they reach the iq of a real person soon enough? WHAT DO YOU MEAN they're starting to look more and more like humans?

Is there gonna be yet another one eyed king to make peace with the dragons, the ghouls and the humans?? Is it necessary for this common enemy to still have to tie them together post-war?

Why does it sound like a shitty set up for another sequel when we know damn well Ishida never wants to do anything with manga anymore, since he talked about how stressful working on Tokyo Ghoul has been for him? If it was a philosophical choice, then Im afraid I did not understand it, though I’d certainly love to.

That aside, in regards to the ending I have to say I liked the emotional weight of the discussion between Donato and Amon (what was even the point of Takizawa being there?), as Amon finally admitted he still loved his “father” despite his absolute evilness, and Donato actually loved him as well.

The Uta vs Renji was cool ig though it didn't truly feel like there were any stakes (I can't say I mind them becoming rivals once more but it certainly could’ve been done better, as the clowns have been hyped up for SO LONG…), and I couldn't bring myself to be sad about Irimi and Koma when they were brought back for basically one panel and died the next, even though I really liked them :-(

I was kinda chilling with the Furuta fight, and I guess Furuta wishing in the end to have a normal life was a sign that it truly did all stem from his Washu inferiority, though he remains very weird for wanting to have children with an unwilling Rize. (The Dragon Rize stuff was epic) Overall, Furuta was a cool villain, so it's fine. His opaque motives and his monologue are not too bad at all.

I'm conflicted about Mutsuki’s role in the ending and how they behave after succumbing to and accepting their trauma. Their story is truly tragic and I understand the psychological reasoning as to why they’d latch onto Kaneki and lash out (they also sa’d Uta apparently, believing him to be Haise’s corpse? Uta changed his face shape another time as well, so I do believe that was him), but them suddenly being badass once they remembered their trauma isn't really my cup of tea (which is ironic considering how many times Kaneki himself got “being suddenly badass because of trauma” moments) I liked them and the portrayal of their mental instability in the island arc but afterwards I didn't care much for them.

Also did I miss something or are Amon and Akira not in the end?? Am I tripping??? Maybe some chapters didn't load because why wouldn't they be there? I'm so confused. Amon and Akira have def been in my top 5 favorite characters of the entire series, so safe to say I'm very puzzled.

Takizawa fading into obscurity is just so sad that I don't even know what to say, he just came back to watch and then do his thing after he was tortured and sa/d by Kano into being how he is now. Not everyone's gonna get a happy ending, obviously, but damn😭

One of the best parts of :re was most definitely Urie’s character arc- everyone's character arcs, really!

Tsukiyama’s character arc was spread onto the whole series, and tbh I completely dig it, even though the Tsukiyama raid arc probably could’ve been done even better. At first I thought he was gonna groom Hinami, but he turned out to be an actual gentle”-flower-man” lol. I like him!

Arima’s tragedy was so beautifully done, I swear. Def one of my absolute favorite parts, if not my favorite. It lives in my head rent free.

I literally gasped so hard when it was revealed who Hide had been hiding as the whole time, Ishida's foreshadowing is truly insane. I already knew he was alive, but I was still surprised. He started to feel sm more like a concept rather than another character tho, if that makes sense, haha.

And finally, my son: Juuzou Suzuya .

People were a bit harsh on Juuzou’s ending, I think, though I can definitely understand why!

I don't think Juuzou understood what Marude really meant about making his own decisions- at least, not at first.

Juuzou is 29/30-ish I think, in the ending?? He's been working so hard all these years, just for Shinohara, to become him as if that's what he wanted from him. Or so, that's the last we see of of his motives, though that's before the dragon war, so years back.

After the dragon war, his development feels null because it wasn't fully explained: we aren't told whether juuzou reflected on Marude’s words and decided to stick with the new ccg because he wanted to for himself. We aren't told whether Juuzou developed a sense of justice, and that's why he does what he does, or if that's what he thinks his assigned purpose is and he's simply just sticking to it because he thinks that's what shinohara would've wanted, or he simply doesn't know what else to do with himself. We don't know whether he actually embraced his scrapper/slaughterer role (as I said in my other meta) in a healthy manner or if he just stuck with it because that's what he's been all his life and he doesn't know how to be anything else.

We can speculate, but that brings it back to Shinohara. No manner how you look at it, if Juuzou hasn't reflected on himself and his motives after all these years, then meeting Shinohara once more would shatter his expectations, as it wouldn't just be happy tears and such. That's the man he's fought for for so, so long, and it's really hard to think of how their relationship would be. During those years, Juuzou idolized Shinohara a lot in his mind, which is why he initially wanted to be him. He loved Shinohara, and so what Shinohara stood for must've been, by proxy, just. So, if Juuzou hasn't removed himself from his delusion by actually maturing past the point we see him in before the :re time skip, then it's not gonna be as pretty for him because it wouldn't match his built up expectations, and that's why I find it rather bittersweet.

For someone so traumatized, I don't think Juuzou could ever fully recover, as trauma alters the brain; but, for the sake of my sanity, I'll think he chose to keep fighting for himself rather than because that was the role he was put in. I want to believe he's found how to be his own person, and just likes working together with his squad AND also sees Shinohara on a weekly basis. I JUST WANT HIM TO BE HAPPY DAMMIT💔💔

[With that said, I've been scavaging Ao3 and soon fanfic.net for fanfictiona to quench the void in my heart, but there aren't many that are Juuzou centric. I shan't give up just yet, though! Maybe I'll find one that'll make me feel less bittersweet about Juuzou and Shinohara!]

#tokyo ghoul #tokyo ghoul:re #tg meta #tg:re meta #tokyo ghoul re ending #juuzou tokyo ghoul #suzuya juuzou #juuzou suzuya #tokyo ghoul juuzou #juuzou suzuya meta #Memej yaps

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