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smkkbert · 5 months

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Time for a story - The Man under the Hood

“I still cannot believe we are doing this.”

Felicity opened an eye and turned her head just enough to not disturb the make-up artist, who was working on her face, but still enough to look at Oliver. He was sitting in a chair next to his, his face already ready for interview they would give in about five minutes.

“Because you don’t enjoy talking to the media or because you never thought that you would ever say on TV that you are the Green Arrow.”

Oliver considered his answer for a moment. “Both, I guess.”

When he had been younger, Felicity knew, his relationship to the media had been messy. As a white, rich boy he had been followed by paparazzi a lot, and they hadn’t always approached him in good moments. He had been drunk most of the time as he had been drunk most of his young adult life, so they hadn’t really caught him in a good light. He still felt like they saw a little bit of that man in him now which was why he disliked talking to the media most times, even when he was wearing a suit after he had invited them to come to his territory and he decided what he would talk about.

After his return from the island, not just the media but everyone really that had had a little too much interest in him had been a threat or a target. The last words echoed through her mind with Oliver’s voice as he had said those words during their first date back at that little Italian restaurant that had blown up while they had been there. It was why he had kept everyone at arm’s length and made sure nobody got to know his secret.

Nobody had been allowed to know his secret.

Then he had told John because he had needed to save him and he had seemed like a reliable person that he could trust.

Then Helena Bertinelli found out because she had been a lost soul like him, and they had thought that they were the only ones that could truly understand each other.

Then he had been left injured and bleeding after confronting his mother while he had been wearing the hood and suddenly found himself in the back of her car. Well, she had found him there, Felicity thought with a smile, and he had revealed himself to her and the rest was history.

Well, their history at least.

“It’s a good thing.”

Felicity looked at the small set where the interview would be filmed. Two leather armchairs were waiting for Oliver and her. On the opposite side of the small table, another armchair was waiting for woman anchor Marisol Marroquín. She had sent them some of her questions beforehand, but she had also made clear that the interview and especially their answers in it would decide about how she would continue with her interview.

Of course Felicity had did her research von Marisol Marroquín before she had agreed to do this interview. She was known to be a tough reporter, asking the right questions at the right time. She wasn’t going easy on the people she interviewed, but she wasn’t unfair. She accepted boundaries, and she didn’t just try to dig for gossip or whatever. She really wanted to inform people which had made Felicity know that she was the right person for this interview.

“I got a good feeling about this,” she told him once more and turned her head to smile at him, “I really do.”

Oliver smiled back at her, reached out his hand and squeezed her fingers. They held onto each other for a brief moment before they let go.

“We are ready,” one of the set people told them, “so we’d like you to take your seats, so we can check the lighting and the microphones before we start.”

Felicity had given quite some press conferences, she thought while five people from the set checked the microphones, the headlights and the camera positions. Nothing had been quite like this. It was a little much, nothing she could possibly see herself doing more than once.

Eventually, Marisol Marroquín joined them from her dressing room backstage. She looked incredible in her steel blue dress. It made her long, slim legs look fantastic. Her dark hair fell around her face in thick curls. Her full lips were painted in a bright red. Felicity wasn’t surprised that she was such a desired reporter for TV. She didn’t only do a great job, she also looked the part too.

“Are you ready?” she asked them with a smile when she sat down in her arm chair and crossed her legs. “Is there anything you need? Anything we need to talk about before we start?”

Felicity shot a look at Oliver, who looked back at her. He perked up his eyebrows, directing Marisol’s questions right back at her. Felicity shrugged her shoulders. They had talked about the most important issues beforehand, so there wasn’t much more she could possibly ask or say now.

“I think we are as ready as we can be,” Oliver replied.

“Great.” Marisol smiled at them and then turned to one of the people from set, nodding in their direction.

Three minutes later, the cameras started rolling.

“Three weeks ago, Starling City’s greatest secret was finally lifted,” she started directly, looking into the camera. “In a night of citywide fights against criminals, all of our heroes, formerly known as vigilantes, finally let us see the people behind these masks. In the center of this development is a well-known couple that is here with me now.”

She turned towards Oliver and Felicity now.

“Mr. and Mrs. Queen, why did you decide on giving this interview now?”

“After we were forced to reveal ourselves to the public, we were positively surprised about the support the city offered to us. We felt like we owed it to the people who decided to trust us to give that trust back. We want to let people in on the full story of how we came here and also be very transparent about where we are planning to go.”

“The city was in the dark about what we were doing and why we were doing it for a long time,” Felicity added to Oliver’s answer, “and that led a lot of people to doubt the vigilantes at the start. We want to make sure that there won’t be any doubts anymore.”

An almost natural conversation progressed. Marisol asked them how everything had started, so Oliver told her about the sinking of the Gambit and the revelations of his father. He told her about the list and his desire to right his father’s wrongs and how he had tried to find out what his parents had been planning on. He told her about how he had needed help and how he had used the skills of the blonde, babbly IT-girl at Queen Consolidated until he had eventually ended up bleeding in her car after he had interrogated his mother and she had shut him. That was when Felicity chimed in and told her how she had learned for sure what she had known already – that Oliver Queen was the Hood.

Oliver reached out his hand when Felicity said that, and she laced her fingers through his, squeezing his hand. Their love story had always been special. There had been a time that Felicity had wondered if some of that specialty had come from the fact that their love story had been a secret to most people. Since she had had children, she had known that their love was only more special when they could share it with others.

They told her about how the mission had changed, how the team had grown, how Oliver had turned from the Hood to the Arrow to the Green Arrow. They told her about Blood Rose and Ruben Midas, her many attempts as taking revenge and how that had led to Oliver outing himself as the Green Arrow, followed by the team revealing themselves too.

Marisol listened carefully and let them talk. She just asked some questions if Oliver and Felicity were about to forget that they were telling their story to strangers instead of sharing it with each other. She asked questions to fill in some blanks and redirect their focus.

“Looking back from where you are now, would you do anything differently?”

“A lot, I guess.” Oliver smiled regretfully. “I think if we could turn back time, I would try to do things differently from the start.”

“Like killing the people on the list?”

Felicity could feel Oliver’s fingers tightening around hers briefly. It was one thing to talk about the people he killed to her or to the team. Talking about them on national TV, knowing it would probably be broadcasted internationally and the kids as well as their friends would see it, was something entirely different. Fact was that the moment he had outed himself, people had known about it though. They just hadn’t heard why it had started that way or how much Oliver still suffered knowing what he had done.

“I guess it is my biggest regret,” Oliver said slowly, nodding his head. “I wanted to right my father’s wrongs and created my own wrongs along the way. My own trauma from everything that happened in the night of the storm and all those years after that made my blind to the trauma that I have caused. How couldn’t I regret that?”

He made a pause, and squeezed Felicity’s hand once more.

“I know that I don’t want to recreate that devil’s cycle though,” he added then, “so I don’t want my children to feel like they need to right my wrongs when I pass. I want to do it myself, so I am. I hope I am righting my wrongs.”

“Is that your new motivation?” Marisol asked. “To right your wrongs?”

“Partly maybe,” Oliver replied, “but it’s more than that.”

“Starling City is our home,” Felicity explained, feeling like Oliver could need a little break to refocus, “and our children’s home. We love this place, and we love the people here. We want to make this a safe place for good people, a place of fairness and chances. I think that plays a big role in why we are doing this.”

“Safety in vigilantism, fairness in rebuilding the Glades and chances in offering jobs and working charities,” Marisol concluded, “a busy life.”

“Indeed.” Oliver sighed, but he chuckled lightly as well. “It is worth it.”

Marisol, being indeed as good at her job as Felicity had predicter her to be, seemed to sense the need for a little lighter detour too. She certainly knew that it was easier to get the information she wanted if she didn’t press for too many too sensitive information too soon.

“Before the recording of this show, we have been to three of the local elementary schools and gathered questions that some of Starling City’s youngest have for you.”

Felicity was surprised. She hadn’t known about this, and she didn’t think that the show had ever done it before. It was kind of sweet though, and she really liked the idea. The kids were in her children’s age. These kids would grow up with the vigilantes protecting them.

Marisol grabbed for a small basket that had been placed behind her armchair. Dozens of letters were in there. She grabbed one, opened the envelope and read out what it said.

“Elena Kravicski, eight, asks what’s the worst injury that you ever got.”

“I was shot in the shoulder once,” Felicity replied immediately, “so I’d go with that.”

Oliver already opened his mouth to reply, but he fell silent instead. There were so many moments that he could name now, but they were all very intimate. Felicity doubted that he wanted to relive the worst of his injuries on TV.

“I was once bitten by a shark,” he replied eventually, “and although I am not sure that it’s the worst injury, I know it’s the craziest.”

“With everything you have told us today, how does a shark fit into that story?” Marisol asked and chuckled.

Oliver sighed. “That’s a long story.”

Marisol seemed to silently agree that there was no time and no reason to tell this story now. She turned to the next card in her hands.

“Zirui Ling, seven, asks how much you usually work out.”

These lighter questions were actually fun to go through, Felicity realized. Kids knew a lot of superheroes from TV. Their questions proved that they were trying to match their views of superheroes with the city’s own heroes. They asked about their kryptonite, about how they got their outfits, about their possible retirement and their advice for aspiring superheroes.

Felicity was sure that most of these questions could have come from their own kids if they hadn’t grown up knowing about their parents’ secret identities.

“One child, Cristóbal Suarez, eight, asks what makes you the best candidate for the job. He writes, Dear Mr. Queen, when you ran for mayor, you told us why you are the right person for the job. Why are you and your friends the right person for this job, too? A clever question.”

“Indeed,” Oliver replied, nodding his head. His thumb stroked over the back of Felicity’s hand absentmindedly. “I have to say I am not even sure that I am the best candidate. I think everyone who says they are probably prove that they are not. In this job you have to be very self-reflective because if you don’t, you will abuse the power you have eventually. You have to be sensitive with the information you are working with because if you don’t, you will break the trust the people you are trying to serve have in you. You have to put back your own thoughts and needs on the back sometimes because if you don’t, you don’t do what you promised to do.”

He made a long pause, nodding to himself. Felicity knew that he would never say that he was the best candidate for this position. She, on the other hand, could just say it. She knew he was the best heroes this city could have.

“You won’t hear me say that I am the best candidate for this job because it would be easy to say it, but I think it would be wrong. There are people out there that I am sure would do great in this job, some maybe even better than me if they had the same experience and the same skills. So I can promise that, if I ever find someone who could lead this team better than me, I will step down and make room for that person to take over.”

“So you would be open to applications for a spot on your team?”

“This team is based on deep trust as few people ever show themselves able to handle correctly,” Oliver replied, “so it was always hard to let someone new in. I know that some people will read about us or watch this show and think to themselves that they want to be part of this too, but being a hero is not as easy or as glamourous as it might seem.”

“People often forget that it takes a lot,” Felicity added with a nod of her head, “to do what we do. We have all gone through terrible experience. You do a lot of good and you earn a lot of gratitude, but you have to face a lot of losses, too. Sometimes, those sides aren’t balanced. It’s easy to forget that when you see pictures on the news of heroes jumping from roof to roof or whatever.”

“We have talked about some losses and traumatizing experience you and the rest of your team had to face,” Marisol responded to that, “but what you say, in your personal experience, what was the hardest and maybe least expected of the losses that you had to face? Or maybe even a recent one that you had to go through although your team has already been well-established for a while.”

Felicity felt that question forming into a thick rope and wrapping around her throat. It tied off her airways all of a sudden and made her heartbeat quicken.

She had known that a question like this would come, well, or at least she had expected it. The Queen Family had been a family that had been formed by losses as it was. With these new revelations about who they were, the number of losses they had faced in the last fifteen years had just increased even more.

They had indeed suffered a lot of losses. They had lost people. They had been through terrible things, gaining them visible and invisible scars. It should be hard to say which of these experiences had been the worst, but it wasn’t. At least for Felicity it wasn’t.

Oliver, who could feel her grief instantly and would know what loss she was thinking about even if she wasn’t sitting next to him, tightened his hold on Felicity’s hand. He was trying to comfort her, and in some way the way his hand squeezed hers did comfort her. At the same time, she was sure that they both knew that nothing could truly comfort either of them over the loss they had suffered recently.

“When we decided that Oliver had to reveal himself to save the city,” Felicity whispered, “we knew we were giving up on a lot. We knew that he might have to face a lifetime in prison. We knew that our family might have to hide from the villains that we have fought before and even knew ones. We knew that we might have to say goodbye to each other forever, so the kids and I could get to safe place or even just the kids could.”

The truth was that they had known that they had to make that decision, but little had they known what the consequences of that decision might be. They had had so many worries about what might happen. That Oliver had turned himself in could have meant that she would have been arrested too and that the kids would have lost both of their parents. It also could have meant that she and the kids would have been forced to go to same safe house, so nobody could hurt them.

Although Marisol was looking at Felicity intently, definitely looking like she wanted to push for more, but she stayed silent.

“At the time Oliver turned himself in, we were fostering the little girl that was abandoned outside of the Smoak & Queen Science Center. We fell in love with her instantly. It felt like there was a reason why she was placed right where we would find her.”

Oliver had felt that connection before her. He wouldn’t have suggested taking Mia in, not necessarily at least, but she had felt that he had fallen in love with her. Letting go of her after he had stayed with her at the hospital would have been impossible for him.

“The social worker that was responsible for her told Oliver that the little girl would have quite some troubles to find a family to take her in. Even in foster care, it wouldn’t be easy for her. The media had already taken interest in her, and her health issues might shy away possible adoptive parents too. That is how Oliver and I made the decision to take her in.”

She turned her head to look at Oliver briefly. She saw the same pain in his eyes that she felt in her heart. He smiled though, and she knew that he would still make the same decision again now. So would she.

“It was a difficult process, especially emotionally. Living with the fear that she might be taken away from us because her biological family would want her back or because we would be seen as unfit to take care of her was difficult.” Felicity took in a trembling breath. “We were afraid of getting our hearts broken when she would be taken away. And she was. In the process of-“

Felicity’s voice shook and then broke completely. She took in a trembling breath, but she felt her eyes filling with burning tears. She tried to look at the ceiling to will the tears to do anything but drop.

“If you need a break-“

“Mia is in good hands,” Felicity said instead, looking at Marisol again. She needed to get it off her chest. “She was placed in a new home, and I am sure that her foster parents love her very much and take good care of her. But she was part of our family. We miss her like crazy, and she will always be part of our hearts.”

A single tear slipped from her eye now, and Felicity wiped it away quickly.

“I would like to take a break now,” she said then, got up and left.

She needed some air.

#arrow #olicity #olicity fic #olicity fanfic

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mihai-florescu · 1 month

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i think i feel pretty similar to you in that the world is terrible, depressing, it sucks. that’s it’s natural state and we will always return there. but i thank that even though it hurts there are ideals unhampered by reality, stories we can create where that cycle ends for a moment in a happier direction. it isnt our job or duty as there isnt any grand purpose like that, but there is an opportunity out there to create a story with our lives. whether it’s a well known story or lost by the wayside, those who acknowledge the layer beneath the cheery “reality” that is peddled can be writers of their own. i might be delusional and there really is no hope but i hope to create stories for people to enjoy that elusive dream in if only for a temporary respite and cant give up until i well and truly fail. i don’t know if any of my thoughts speak to you in any meaningful way, but i felt compelled to share as while i think we share beliefs we seem to have come to rather different conclusions. i want to give my life to a story, an art, that will hold ideals the real world can never truly embody and thus cannot really give up as every taste of the real reality only strengthens my resolve. is there something like that for you? i’ve read your blog for a while and in my mind (which is an inexperienced mind so I apologize for sharing its fallible perceptions) you seemed like a fascinating person who holds ideals the world refuses to embody and is slowly sinking under that weight. i know it’s not really my place, so i apologize for my audacity, but i believe that you are the sort of person who can create a true happiness for yourself eventually. well, i mean i kind of have to if i believe that for myself. i have more to say, but it seems this is become a ridiculously long message. i apologize, my words likely have crossed between ideas and lost sense at times. i hope they help, or at least don’t harm. i hope you find loveliness loveliness in your day as you deserve it.

I've been journaling about this yesterday... my entire outlook on life i guess? I know i used to be creative and make projects that i found fun, but i cant find this drive in me anymore, i'm more than ready to give up (if only upset at the way it ended so im pressuring myself to make a good Last Project, but nothing is good anymore. It's all so...plain. useless. banal. there's no wit or multilayer to anything i can come up with anymore. I cant develop an idea anymore. There are enough stories, enough artworks, plenty of them bad, theres no need for me to add to it). Im sure it's just burnout stacked on top of depression and general worsening misanthropy and paranoia, but i don't think i will ever feel more hopeful again.

However i do think art, literature, games, even just stories from other people are keeping me grounded. They're also humanity's only redeeming quality - imagination will save our souls... but my position isn't to be an artist anymore, i cant spare the energy and i dont see a point in it either. I cant do a single basic living thing anymore that others seem to be able to do? I very much feel like an npc trying to do my most necessary tasks as best i can, failing more often than not. I hate getting asked what i'll do on a day off (it used to be often at my internship. I dont even want to imagine what they thought about me, that's another can of worms that still haunts me and contributed to why i became like this). The answer is quite literally Pretend I Dont Exist. I will not do anything. I cant do anything. I stop existing the second you stop seeing me, im just in bed dreading the next time i have to be human. I think when other people say they didnt do anything it's a hyperbole, but i can go weeks, and i have gone months even, without leaving the house, if i wasnt expected to.

Part of me wants to think, hope, i could maybe even get interested in making things again if there was no expectation for me to be a person for a few years, completely disappear off the grid (the expectation to be a person that just doesnt come natural to me anymore... and a specific one at that - achieving goals and moving forward, working, with ambitions or any sort of drive, young and energetic, an only child with a good education earning a living... i despise the idea of making money. I despise consumerism too. I want to fund artists, family owned restaurants, bookshops, cafes, and i do, i spend so much money without realising, but i'm really worried i'll run out and not be able to make any to survive once im older and wont get funds from my parents anymore. So i try to save and fail... My family friends, same age or even younger, are buying their own cars and apartments, successfully working multiple well paying jobs at the same time, with plans for the future...? Id like to know both how and why. How do you have the energy and why do you care. But even if they tell me the answers it doesnt change how i feel in my own life)

But this also has skewed my perception of other people... it connects to how i dont actually understand friendships anymore, im sure i mentioned it recently. Like with being an artist, there was a time i did understand and had deep friendships, i think, but it's quite alien to me now? In the way im not real until i have to interact with someone else, and even then, debatable, theyre not real to me either. Like i know this isnt a good mindset to have but it's either everything is real and i genuinely believe we need to disappear, to put an end to this sad species soon, or nothing is real and everyone's just playing a role in a story i get to watch. In a way taking away people's humanity and making them characters in my head is out of kindness, im being delusionally optimistic and quite frankly parasocial even with "friends", but it keeps me floating, stable. Ish. Still kind of empty but entertained enough. But then actually having a conversation outside my head with them is scary, unpredictable... on good days that can be fun too. My roommate always says i end up on side quests a lot if i leave the house, i think im just open to witnessing new stories... just on good, no, great days though, i cant stress that part enough. Great days are getting rarer and rarer. Most days pass by while im in bed and in my head trying to process anything, where i can barely have a coherent thought, and i wait for the day to end. Today was good for example but i still didnt manage to do anything to earn me the title of person, yet it was good because i 1. Ate, and 2. Didnt cry.

The part of your ask that hit me the most was when you said i seemed like a fascinating person, past tense. Im sure i was, but nowadays im very little even a person. Cant be helped. I hope i managed to explain how and why. If you ever want to share your art, my dms are open, i can maybe tell you about my gallery of failure wips i cant stand to look at anymore. I saw the followup ask with your personal info but im not quite sure what else to say... even this ask took too long to answer and now i need a nappp

#ask #anon #long post

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donnerpartyofone · 16 days

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Without saying that AI imagery is categorically good or evil, art or not art, I think one of the worst consequences of its existence is how it has automatically added this Argument section to many online images where lots of people urgently make their smug assertions about whether something is fake or not, often in the absence of any clear way to tell what the truth is. And like if this gets heated enough it can make you (or me, anyway) not want anything to do with the image even if it's otherwise fun and interesting. Suddenly the whole point of its existence is this loaded thing about authenticity and fraudulence without anyone even saying exactly what those things mean to them, and this just creates a really bad smell.

It's like a mutated version of trying to watch a movie near a person who won't stop congratulating themselves for knowing that something is a special effect, and won't stop complaining that the fictional actions of the fictional characters are unrealistic, and won't stop trying to guess a twist ending instead of just experiencing the story. They just want everyone to know that they have outfoxed the movie, they have the superior intellect because the movie cannot trick them into having feelings or believing it is an unedited documentary about real life. But the AI arguments are even more onerous because movies are usually not trying to trick you into believing in a certain reality, where AI *sometimes but not always* is trying to do that. And I really do not blame anyone for worrying about getting tricked, but I do hate that we've come to this point where you can just paint every single thing you ever see with this "fake" brush, because that tends to encourage people to just check out and not give a shit. If everything is potentially fake then what's the point of caring about anything. We've gone from reasonable arguments like "the internet is full of misinformation so take X with a grain of salt" and "everything carries the editorial biases of its creators, nothing is objective" all the way over to like, oh well, everything you ever see is so likely to be a scam that the only correct response to any stimulus is to pound your chest about how cynical and unmoved you are.

Personally one of my main problems with AI art is not ethical, it's just that most of the common, accessible stuff is ugly. I really don't like the look of almost anything that comes out of Midjourney and the other immediately available programs that I'm forgetting the names of, and for me that can only be overcome by a really great and/or hilarious concept, which things are rare. I'm not interested in drawing moral conclusions about that production and I don't find it compelling to listen to people who are dogmatically for or against it. My only concern about the legitimacy or whatever of AI art is the ease with which some programs can make something that is a very close imitation of something from organic reality--and it's not just because of the potential for fraud, which is certainly worrisome, but it can also take the emotional power out of art experiences. I've seen a decent amount of truly weird, exciting AI images *that are obvious AI images* and that doesn't bother me at all. To me that's a right-tool right-job situation and that's fine. I'm more bothered by the stuff that is a very close reflection of analog creations from real life. There's someone on here who has basically invented a made-up "old master" type-painter and they post these images that are sort of acceptably familiar to something you might see in a museum--fauns chasing nymphs, ladies standing in cottage gardens, politician portraits, etc--and I'm not saying they don't have the right to do that, but I'm not sure what the point is. Like, really great real-life versions of those things already exist and I'm not sure why it's compellingly important to prove that computer software can closely imitate what's already out there. Another thing that I find sort of vexing for the same reason is the blog that posts AI images of fake tokusatsu productions. Both of the blogs I mentioned say what they are in their headers, I'm not accusing anyone of anything, but what happens to me when I see a reblog from that AI tokusatu blog is: I think "Oh cool, what show/movie is this from? What's the narrative? Was it popular or is it about to be rescued from obscurity? Who made it? Where can I see more of the filmmakers' work? It's awesome that something this unusual was constructed in real life, somebody drew this up and got it funded and then people built the suits and crafted those cool miniatures and painted the lovely matte paintings, and there was an audience for it, people used to actually accept and even crave really wild stuff like this instead of all the cookie cutter fan service-type crap flooding the market now, and...oh no, this isn't from a show or a movie. It doesn't tell me anything about a certain time period or culture or artist or type of production or the heroic things people do to realize their dreams or anything, it's just, like, somebody's modern, general idea about that stuff. Oh well, it's pretty, but now I have zero questions about it and I don't really care. I'm going back to watching actual tokusatsu movies because there are already tons of great ones from real life and I don't need anyone to simulate them for me, I can already experience the wonder and admiration they inspire for real." It just matters to me how a piece of art was made and when and where and by who, and I don't think that's crazy or backwards of me. There's more to art than just the question of whether something is a pretty picture or not, and moreover I think that if "pretty picture" is the only thing that really concerns you then that is actually OK, but you should just admit that and comfortably recuse yourself from any debates around what art is or is not.

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jadelotusflower · 8 months

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Stargate rewatch: 1x12 Fire and Water

This episode doesn’t count as a Daniel death, but it does count as a Daniel fake out death, which is also pretty prevalent!

It’s kind of amusing comparing everyone being absolutely destroyed over Daniel’s apparent death here, to the later seasons where everyone shrugs and just assumes he’ll turn up somehow.

By this time the US Airforce was consulting in the show, and they sent along actual officers to conduct the funeral ceremony.

Do non-military personnel get military funerals?

“Daniel Jackson made this place happen. As a member of SG-1, he was our voice, our conscience. He was a very courageous man…he was a good man. For those of us lucky enough to have known him, he was also a friend.” 😭

Teal’c being handed the flag as the closest thing to a next of kin is very sweet.

“We commend Daniel Jackson’s spirit to the universe he opened up for us.” 😭 😭

Another Katharyn Powers episode, this is actually one of my favourites.

Where do we think they send the wreath? I would assume the planet where he died, but I suppose it could be Abydos if the gate is buried in such a way that they’re able to establish a wormhole.

Is this standard SGC funeral procedure? We don’t see them send a wreath for Janet even though she dies offworld, but I actually really love the concept.

Nice continuity on Jack’s house from CotG, he walks in carrying the biggest bowl of vegetables I’ve ever seen.

It’s interesting that Jack recounts the story of Sha’re kissing Daniel on Abydos rather than an anecdote from the first mission (getting dragged by the mastadge comes to mind) or from his time on SG-1 - perhaps he wanted to share an amusing memory from a time Daniel was truly happy, but also perhaps Sha’re isn’t far from Jack’s mind, because if Daniel’s gone, who else is going to remember/search for her?

Or maybe it’s also that Jack doesn’t really believe that Daniel really is gone - it almost feels like he’s ribbing a friend for a PDA with his wife like he’s there and not just retelling a story.

A cute outfit for Sam! Teal’c too.

Jack smashing a car window and contemplating retirement because of Daniel’s death 🥺

We see Jack start to backslide into grief like he did after Charlie which is a neat parallel - Daniel was part of the reason why Jack was able to heal from his son’s death, and with Daniel gone he regresses.

Great performance by RDA this episode.

In the false memory and the later flashback, Daniel is wearing his helmet - guess we aren’t quite done with them yet!

In the debrief Jack also says that Daniel cried out “Colonel, help me,” but in the triggered memory he says “Jack, help.” Perhaps a continuity error, but also perhaps the conditioned response altering/escalating. The beer reminds Jack of the bubbles in Nem’s lab, triggering the vision of Daniel’s in order to distract him - the more emotionally inflicting the memory, the less likely Jack is to question its authenticity.

But it actually has the opposite effect - Nem underestimated the bond between the team, as they cannot accept that Daniel is dead.

Daniel’s missing his glasses, so gets up real close to the cuneiform despite it being quite large.

I realise they had to go with the illogical everyone speaks English because this is a tv show, but I do enjoy when there is a language barrier or attempt to explain the lack of one - like the Nox, Nem’s race are advanced enough to learn English after short exposure.

It’s implied the Nox speaking English were an extension of their telepathic abilities, here Nem makes Daniel translate a Babylonian legal system to learn his language, which is neat.

Kind of swish apartment Daniel has! I’ve read some commentary over on reddit surmising that as an expert civilian contractor he’d actually be on a pretty good salary.

Also that’s a lot of stuff for someone who in the film it’s said that everything he had in the world was in two bags. He probably had stuff in storage inherited from his parents that he got out once he started getting that sweet government money.

“I’ll never get paid” is a nice movie callback.

Daniel has what looks like a painting of Bassin d’Apollon (Apollo’s Basin) at Versailles. The fountain depicts Apollo rising from the sea in a horse-drawn chariot. Apollo is of course the Greek god of light/the sun, keeping in the Fire and Water theme for this episode. Daniel will also rise from the sea at the end of the episode.

Jack is looking at the photo of Daniel in Egypt - this will later end up on the desk in Daniel’s lab at the SGC, together with the photo of Sha’re (which we haven’t seen yet).

The excerpt Sam reads from Daniel’s journal (“Sha’re is gone”) is in the middle of some random notes on Egyptian games. Obviously this show was made before it was expected that fans would pause and take screenshots, but I also kind of like the idea that Daniel writes in a stream of consciousness way, recording his thoughts even when they stray from something he’s working on to the personal.

I love the idea of Teal’c and Daniel having game nights.

“I lost my wife - my mate - because of the Goa’uld. They took her from me and I despise them for that.” This episode is probably the most Sha’re has been mentioned so far - between this and Thor’s Hammer I wonder if it was a Katharyn Powers choice or just that it fit into these particular stories.

Why does Nem believe so strongly that Daniel knows what fate Omoroca? Just because Daniel can read cuneiform doesn’t mean he knows all of Babylonian history.

But his distrust of Daniel being rooted in his belief that Earth is still under Goa’uld control because of Teal’c is neatly done.

“It is the fate of humans - that Omoroca could not prevent.” I like that even though Nem has learned English his speech is still a bit stilted. This is a really well crafted episode, imo.

Nem is played by Gerard Plunkett aka Tuplo from The Broca Divide. He does well acting through the prosthetics.

“I don’t have four thousand years. Maybe you can afford to search all that time but I can’t.” It’s interesting how often Daniel has a mirror character - in Torment of Tantalus it was Ernest, in this episode it’s Nem, but while the former was Daniel learning not to be so consumed by his thirst for knowledge that he’s blind to what really matters, here it’s the reinforcement of his convictions to risk his life if necessary to achieve his goals. They’re almost contradictory lessons, but not quite, because of the differing circumstances.

Here Nem is a cautionary tale - Daniel must be active in his search for Sha’re or he’ll end up like Nem, who out of fear and passivity waited for news of his mate’s death rather than trying to find her himself.

This episode was directed by Allan Eastman, his only Stargate effort. But he knew what’s what!

There’s good continuity on Daniel’s growing stubble too.

Eastman would however go on to direct several episodes of Andromeda, including the one guest starring Michael Shanks and Christopher Judge.

Dr Mackenzie appears for the first time since autopsying the dead Jaffa in CotG.

We get three versions of the false memory - Sam’s was “help, help” while Teal’c’s is a drawn out cry of agony - perhaps because Teal’c has seen so many more brutal things his memory needed to be more visceral to trigger the same reaction.

There is nothing Daniel loves more than drawing in the sand.

“And in time Daniel, you will find what fate Sha’re.” A not so pleasant glimpse into Daniel’s future there.

It’s too bad we never see Nem again, not even when the show gets into other memory searching/creating technology.

“Tell us about it over sushi.” You can tell this was an RDA lib because he, Shanks, and Tapping almost break character.

#one of my faves!#stargate sg-1 #stargate rewatch #1x12 fire and water #in which I once again get into the weeds #long post #jlf posts #daniel jackson #jack o’neill #daniel x sha’re

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wetcatspellcaster · 7 months

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I am so curious to know the background on this! :D

“Now, sweetheart,” he commanded. “I think you should kiss me again. And if you can’t make it nice, at least make it interesting.”

So, he was leaving her to do all the work. Rosalie bit her lip, in uncertainty and in anger, as she examined him, puzzling out his motives. Was he trying to make her feel wretched, again? Forcing her to act, so she condemned herself?

She said she’d been to therapy - and she had, extensively - but there was always going to be that little pit of self doubt in her stomach, no matter what. Especially with Astarion.

It felt selfish, given how immensely she’d failed him, to turn over the other parts of their relationship like fossils for examination. But one of the cruellest parts, about never getting to see things through to end, was never knowing what they truly could’ve been - what he would’ve wanted with her, in time. She didn’t know what he liked, and what he’d pretended to like.

Hello lovely, thank you for sending the ask!

Read myself for filth, commentary one: The first two paragraphs is how a person who can't write E-rated fics tries to write D/S undertones without writing enough spice to ever actually earn those tags. Never sure if I'm successful, but my god I could be a Level 7 rogue for the amount I dance around things and evade them.

So this is one of the few times Rose gets close to a good insight check, I guess bc the DC is lower than average! Astarion was trying to humiliate her, force her to admit she wanted him, force her to act on her own initiative rather than be 'seduced', meaning that she is culpable and cannot deny that fact later on. Wouldn't make sense for him to be lying about that, in fact it serves him and his purpose to make it very, very obvious, bc that makes it all the more embarrassing for her at her end.

Astarion does love her/want her, etc (that's what he's rolling deception on lmao). But he does also want her to condemn herself, it's a game. He wants to prove he has power over her, to prove she was wrong for abandoning him, and he's also testing her. He is making her physically uncomfortable, yet she's seemingly unable to resist or leave, regardless. He is also testing to see if she falls for the trap he sets for everyone: of deciding whether she is attracted to him enough to ignore all her other morals and constraints, and will thus place herself wilfully in danger.

As to the final two paragraphs - this Tav has some absolutely rock bottom self esteem, even if in this AU timeline she's kind of too powerful for that to serve her anymore, honestly. But another thing about getting an Evil Ending with a break up is that her relationship with Astarion was: Act 1 seduction: 'I successfully romanced him, oh no it turns out it was all an act', Act 2 'I don't think we should have sex anymore, idk if we ever will again': 'oh no, everything I did before now was making him uncomfortable and I never realised', then Act 3: turbo charged sex demon tells you you're worthless. So I feel like it makes sense for her to have a lot of self doubt around sex or intimacy with Astarion, bc she doesn't have any real knowledge of what the man she knew would've wanted - they never got to unpack what parts were an act and which parts weren't, and they crucially never got their graveyard resolution scene.

She has no belief that she ever correctly understood what he wanted or needed and so yeah. She'd be scared of getting it wrong again. What if he was doing all this just to turn around and tell her that she was never what he wanted at all?

She is also just... very attracted to him :') that makes a lot of people self-conscious in these kind of situations lmao

And yeah, I think that that kind of petty, insignificant insecurity carries a lot of guilt as well. I do think she's talked about it in therapy. Your boyfriend lost his soul while you watched... why would you obsess over whether the physical intimacy was good or not? That's cringe, and way down the list of priorities. But it's also a very human insecurity and she's fallible, so unfortunately it is there.

Hope that this was in any way interesting! :)

DVD commentary ask

#wip: pieces still stuck in your teeth #dvd commentary ask #asks #ask games

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vilelittlecritter · 1 year

Text

Here's some concept designs for OmorOff! These were done fairly quickly and without much thought and just about zero reference so do expect these to change.

I was going to make Humphrey an actual whale but then decided to go the more metaphorical route of that they were once beautiful and graceful however over time they have become this thrashing mound of flesh, and a "parasite within themselves". The idea for their design was majorly inspired by the parasite au by @seryojiinn which Is absolutely disgusting in all the right ways. I really like this design and can't wait till I can properly draw it and show just how horrific Humphrey has become.

Again a lot will change but i think for a quick doodle the design for Humphrey is pretty sick and I can't stress how much I want to properly draw them.

Also some added details I wanted to go over.

Omori's knife is a sacred weapon and when used against impure beings, causes them to feel an extreme burning sensation.

The red hands have the same effect as they are both created from Omori's body directly, however the knife is the only thing that can truly purify the guardians.

These aren't really important but I wanted to say them but didn't know how to loool

Anyway ima go shower and do more actual drawing instead of dumb doodles, I need to stop doodling as much...

While I'm away here's some more lore about Humphrey because I love how they're turning out so far and would like to share their character at this point!!! Again this is really early so expect stuff to change

Spoilers I guess for if I ever write this into a story

Okay so Humphrey in this au as said before has become incredibly ill however instead of them becoming selfish and leeching the resources, their people instead willingly sacrifice almost everything just to keep them alive. They spend hours maintaining them, feeding them, researching anything they can do to help them but to no avail. Humphrey although alive is still in incredible agony but fears leaving their people to fend for themselves so chooses to stay alive. While this is all happening a tumor forms on Humphreys chest and it eventually gains sentience, this tumor/parasite essentially wants to take Humphreys place however they cannot simply take over their body so instead they grow themselves as a copy and take from Humphrey to create themselves. During the early stages the tumor was able to take Humphreys eyes and some of their organs as their own, however was not able to take much of anything else directly from Humphrey. However, due to this the parasite (which I'll just call "The falsehood" ) is now directly linked to Humphrey as it contains some of their vital organs meaning if the Falsehood dies so does Humphrey. The Falsehood uses this as a bargaining chip to force Humphrey and their people to obey them and also equips themselves with a sharp piece of steel to use as a tool to keep Humphrey in line. The Falsehoods goals are completely delusional, as a parasite and disease it's one goal is to spread. It sees itself as some kind of saviour and that by spreading and having others become a part of the hellish flesh mound it sits upon it showing some kind of twisted mercy. Humphrey, too weak to do anything has to watch as this creature takes their identity, uses their voice and mangles their people all while absolutely powerless to do anything.

That is until Omori shows up and promptly obliterates the Falsehood by literally splitting it straight in half with the red hands.

My boy takes no shit from no one and will fuckin murk a bitch if he doesn't like them.

Anyway if you've read this far I'm impressed and please share your thoughts! I'm still nowhere near confident enough to make this a real thing but I'm getting there!

I want to make it creepy but also fun and not overly edgy. Of course it's brutal and weird but I still want it to be enjoyable and not some edgelord fan fic. I want the world to be dark but also interesting, colourful in its own twisted weird way.

Anyway enough rambling this idea is probably super dumb but I am super dumb do whatever.

Anyway bye bye :]

#omori #omori fandom #omori aus #omori au #omoroff #off #off game #off mortis ghost #off au #random rambles #vlc art

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snakes-writing-corner · 1 year

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Ahem,,,

May I request Morpho Knight x Reader HCs, pretty please?

I kind of have in mind that Reader met them by "dying" once, like meeting them in "limbo" sorts where the time (and Reader's body, cuz some kind of injury I guess?) itself decides whether or not Reader will live and go back to mortals realm.

Probably hurt and comfort too,,,

Oooooo that’s a fun idea! Always down to do HCs for my favorite butterfly knight.

Thanks for your request!

Morpho Knight x Reader HCs

Finding yourself playing a balancing act between life and death due to hypothermia was… not ideal to say the least.

You almost flatlined when you were approached by an orange-yellowish butterfly that turned into knight right in front of you.

After you got over your shock you had to admit they were quite beautiful in an entrancing way. The way their black body contrasted with the warm colors adoring their armor and wings was mesmerizing.

The butterfly knight in turn was also intrigued. It was very rare for a soul to walk the line between life and death, and they wished to see this soul for themselves to see what kind of creature it was.

After a few beats of silence you introduced yourself, albeit a little awkwardly. The knight in turn introduced themselves as Morpho Knight.

After that your time in limbo was less lonely you talked about many things to Morpho while they listened thoughtfully.

You learned that Morpho rarely ever talked about themselves or really talked at all. (Well talking is a loose definition it’s more like telepathically communicating.)

After getting to know what kind of soul you were, Morpho made the decision to not take it just yet. They might be a little biased in that decision, but they’d never met a mortal like you before. A mortal that wasn’t afraid by the mere sight of them was a rarity.

Morpho however could not send you back to the mortal realm on their own. That was for time to decide, but as long as they did not take your soul, you would wake up… eventually.

In the meantime you both spent your time merely enjoying each other’s company, with you trying to maybe get a few answers out of your new friend.

Questions like “What is this place?”, and others were thrown Morpho’s way, and they answered as honestly as they could.

Then the question of if they were here to take your soul came up, and they sat in silence, contemplating how they should realistically answer.

While being feared was something Morpho didn’t mind due to the very nature of their existence, here they truly did not want to be. At least, not by you.

However they valued honesty above all else so they told you the truth. They told you about the nature of their being, how they judge souls, and how they can take a physical form in the mortal realm outside of the butterfly.

When you showed amazement instead of fear Morpho relaxed a little. You truly were completely fascinated by this revelation, and continued asking more and more questions which Morpho now happily answered without worry.

Time in limbo was quite odd. Due to the nature of it being between the realm of life and death time was infinite yet nonexistent. Minutes felt like hours yet days felt like seconds.

In Morpho’s words “Mortals cannot comprehend how the in-between truly functions. Truthfully even I do not fully understand how this realm operates.”

As the two of you spent more time together you noticed how excited you got when Morpho would pay attention to your stories, how their wings twitched and flapped when they talked about things that interested them, how their eyes sparkled when talking about the various individuals they met over the centuries, how deep and quiet their laughs were, and… oh no you have a crush on them don’t you?

Funnily enough Morpho could tell right away. They’ve lived long enough to see the signs of love in mortals, but wanted to see how long it would take before you confessed or indirectly confirmed they’re (very much correct) suspicions.

Morpho truthfully did love you as well don’t get that wrong, but was significantly better at hiding it than you, and definitely fell in love with you long before you did.

They knew they were smitten, they knew they had it bad and really shouldn’t feel this way, but how could they not when you were just this adorable?

The way your eyes just lit up when talking about something you enjoyed, the way your voice would go up in pitch just a little when looking at them, and gosh they could really just stare at you for eternity and not look away for a second if fate allowed it.

In a twisted sense of irony when Morpho was staring at you with their guard down they muttered out an “I love you.” on accident.

You just so happened to overhear and went beat red. Morpho realizing their mistake just chuckled and brushed it off.

It wasn’t very long after that you too unofficially started dating. Neither of you needed to say it out loud you both just well knew.

When it came time for your soul to go back to the mortal realm, Morpho gave you a little necklace in the shape of a butterfly saying that it would allow them to visit you in your dreams.

They also said they’d be watching over you and to “Not perish in the near future otherwise I shall have to duel against fate itself.”

You woke up in the hospital with that same butterfly necklace around your neck and a lovestruck smile on your face.

It was only until you looked towards the window that you see a familiar orange-yellowish butterfly watching you from the windowsill. It then clicked what Morpho had meant by watching over you, and your smile doubled in size.

Little Bonus :)

Nicknames Morpho Uses For You

Darling

Honey

Sugar

Sweetheart

Rose/My Rose

Love/My Love

Sunshine

Lovebug

Soulmate

#morpho knight #kirby #hoshi no kirby #my writing #morpho knight x reader #kirby morpho knight

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jamieedlund · 2 years

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How do you think aaravos would react if there was a person he could not manipulate. I mean if he's trying to be his sweet charming and very convincing self and there like yeah ok hi nice to meet you to and just acts like his voice doesn't put them into a trance. They just smile and help him with stuff and act like he's just another elf.

I imagine he'd be so frustrated and interested in this strange person. He'd fallow them around just trying to figure out why his charm doesn't work lol

There are two(or maybe 3???) things that I think are being asked here--- Um so... let's go I guess???

⚠Warning somewhat a short read⚠

Still gonna leave a doodle here because I'll never answer fun questions about my agenda without providing you all with something nice( •̀ ω •́ )✧

1. I don't think there is a single person that Aaravos cannot manipulate...Cause...he's Aaravos. He'll always find a way.

2. If they just think of him as regular guy and can't seem to be manipulated, I doubt he'll even be interested in that because he has a somewhat grandiose sense of self. I think he likes himself enough that it doesn't particularly bother him when people are just normal around him and don't think he's THAT attractive. In fact that would probably bored him.

Why waste time caring about someone who doesn't find him extraordinary when he can be doing literally anything else that excites him lol.

I think he's also encountered a fair share of people who all thought of him differently so I feel like he's probably seen it all: it's a hassle to be worshipped, it's boring to be treated normally and it's kinda funny to a laughable degree to be looked down upon.

In short, it takes a super specific type of person, one that doesn't bore him nor infuriate him to get him invested.

3. Since I'm only ever writing about Callum in regards to him, I'll say this, out of literally everyone in the show, I can only see Callum being able to snatch up Aaravos(idk in what way go figures?) because:

He's someone truly good-hearted, and was proven to be incorruptible by dark magic, which that by itself probably has never came into existent within the canon so... it's pretty fricking special to begin with.

He's also innocent enough that Aaravos could easily manipulate but can't help but like at the same time because it's "terrifying", especially when he gets mad.

He's capable of keeps him grounded

Being funny, kind and understanding but firm and perhaps also a bit cruel at times when he thinks his master's decision is hurting others or himself (this is the scary part) I don't think Aaravos would ever be interested in anyone unless they can toggle between being his biggest simp while simultaneously scaring the crap outta him 🤣🤣🤣

My final verdict? There are more things to be done than trying to impress someone who doesn't think he's special when he probably understands this is just the fact of life lol.

I think the follow up is a minor stuff but like - the only person I can see that's capable of making him feel "frustrated" is one who is innocent, kind and believes in him with all of their heart. One that's always be willing to throw hands for him because they know he's a good person. I wouldn't call this frustration either though haha...Maybe he would pull some rare faces with some indecipherable expression 🤣

What can be more frustrating than thinking you are no longer capable of being good and was locked away for 300 year only to be shaken to the core by someone who believes in you whole-heartedly.

It'll definitely piss him off :))) In a fun and exciting way.

#ask jamie #tdp #the dragon prince #callum #aaravos #doodle #sorry for the late reply #I have been struggling to draw lately #I love them very much #but it gets hard sometimes #thanks for asking!

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reasonably-annoyed-fog · 1 year

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what's your ranking on the terminator movies?

Good fucking question thank you

The thing is, in terms of how Good a movie is in its entirety, Terminator 2 is probably the bet one. it's a masterpiece of action cinema, of science fiction, and also of a genre I've coined "Dad Cinema", which I won't be going into now, but when it comes to which Terminator movie I like the most, I have to rank them very differently because I have weird tastes

Terminator: Dark Fate (2019) I like the most. Cause I'm gay. There's also so many things about that one that are fun to me personally, I could talk about it for hours, I think it hilarious that they fridged John Connors, I think the characters are fun to watch, I think what they did with the idea of a Terminator stuck in the past without a mission to fulfill anymore is fascinating. Sure they disregarded the time travel rules set up in the previous movies, but they did it to make room for a story that was fresh and different yet also returned to the original themes of the first and second movies. It expands on the themes of state brutality and there's just something so uplifting about the core message: you can kill John Connor but there will always be a John Connor; there will always be a Dani Ramos, there will always be someone who gets up and says No, and this person will not do it because they are a special little boy but because, as G'Kar says in Babylon 5 says: "No dictator, no invader can hold an imprisoned population by force of arms forever. There is no greater power in the universe than the need for freedom. Against that power tyrants and dictators cannot stand."

The original Terminator (1984) brings out the 80s horror in a way that just speaks to me. Here the Terminator truly is just this shark like killer. In later movies, it's just not quite the same, and that's probably because in the first one Arnold Schwarzenegger is still, I almost wanna say fresh-faced? There's something about him here where he looks like he spent 30 years in a gym and then walked straight onto set, and a lot of that is probably due to the cool colours of an 80s movie. Like that scene in the club where he walks trough the mass of people looking for Sarah Connor just looks so right.

Terminator 2 (1991) The action. The effects. it's chef's kiss. Mwah. Like Dark Fate, it's a movie that exactly knows what it and the franchise is about. It's a movie about systematic violence and the entire structure of the movie is build around that; The sexual abuse that Sarah suffers in the psych ward, John being stuck in foster care, yet still not safe, and with a future that has been descided for him, Dyson getting shot by the police, the T-1000 wearing a police uniform! Great fucking movie tbh. Ranking these first three is actually incredibly difficult to me cause they in my book achieve full marks.

Terminator 3: Rise of The Machines (2003) is actually the first Terminator movie I ever saw, and I remember not being extremely impressed with it, but I was 14, Kristanna Loken was in it, Claire Danes was in it, that was enough in my book at the time. Also The Current is a great song say what you will.

Terminator Salvation (2009) Like, what is the point, you know? I vaguely remember seeing bits of it. and like, I don't know, didn't even capture me. Didn't catch my interest. I don't remember the movie I just remember Christian Bale yelling at a camera man and then there was also a movie I guess. Maybe at some point I will actually sit down and watch all the movies again and maybe then I will have to rethink my opinion but as far as I am concerned Terminator Salvation is a movie that certainly was made I suppose.

Terminator: Genysis (2015) I did not know of the existence of this movie until today when I sat down to answer this ask and googled "Terminator movies" to get the years of release right. Emilia Clarke is in it? J. K. Simmons is in it?? Matt Smith is in it??? What?? What are you talking about?? The plot synopsis sounds absolutely insane why is everyone shitting on Dark Fate when this movie exists apparently wtf

#anon #asks #thank you anon I'm sick in bed this was a nice distraction #I don't get enough asks about this kind of stuff which is sad cause my opinions are great #Terminator

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hospitalterrorizer · 2 months

Text

diary227

4/29/24

monday

only one more day... just one more.

i continue to think about all the horrible things happening in the world, and that i can do nothing. it's not...anything. it's not productive but beyond that it is nothing. have i tried? i can't know, if i knew, i think i would be horrifically upset at myself. so i say i don't know. but i do know, trying or not, things would only change in a small way, but that could be better. it would be something. i don't know. no use beating myself up. no use. this is the use of the apparatuses that make a spectacle of radicalism. they are interred into pageantry, expression, these are not the lines upon which movements truly exist but it is how they televise and talk of it. either evil or brave and you are on the other side of it. the people occupying know, they talk to no media. it is lovely to see.

and of all the dead, there being so many, i feel terrible, it only spirals but not out of control. it is in a terrible and perfect control, it is accurate, even if israel is horrific at performing operations 'right' they are so well armed it will only ever shake out to perfect. the effect is things run on time, even if they don't. such finality possesses their actions.

no use, to linger. my gf's family hates it so much, that people care, it makes them mad.

what to say to that. no one has any good answers, for any of this i guess, except that it must stop, but horrifically it will not.

i can sit here for a long time, broken up about this. it feels really terrible. i think it feels especially bad because i am so ran through by work and just the environment i am in, by feeling that there are so many things we all want out of, seeing the homeless abused by pigs, all of this, continuous unfolding. i am so worthless beside it, i wonder if that makes me some kind of collaborator with the horrible logics that interpret and put the world to work.

am i the west, in micro-scale. am i simply a bad conscience? i can't tell. all i can hope is i am not. and my whining, is that all it is, a way to interrupt convictions i have, to make it 'evident' to myself that my guilt makes it okay, or what. i don't know.

i think maybe not. it's easy to be so hard on oneself. it is too easy.

it is too easy, it is too useful, this assurance that i am worthless, that is what is desired by the spectacle, give up, yes, it begs, give up. i cannot give up, whatever path i am on or whatever, i don't want to give up. even if i am on no path. if i am nothing. i can be nothing. i will accept the nothing i am.

enough of whatever that is though.. my days off, i want to work on music, i want to write (not the weird assemblage thing, i want to write in the longer story, i have have have to), i want to draw. i know one day i will have to do errands... i think. but maybe i will get out of that. i do not knowwwwowow.

here is a song i love:

youtube

such a genius band, really interesting music still, in terms of being something 'else' i think.

i hate seeing lint get blown around and getting scared it's bugs. my mind is fried egg or something, i feel awful sometimes honestly. right now i feel okay but it's always like, a last little thread regenerating and snapping and coming back, lately. a final nerve i guess. it's not actually that bad. and soon , going to la, and i think i wanna try to take lotsa pictures and stuff. maybe before then i should make sure to get my psp camera too.

anyways i have to sleep, i was late to work today, not like it matters but i guess i don't want to get in trouble, i got a violation for not taking a break the other day becuz it's impossible becuz they are bad at scheduling but it's #myfault. they love to communicate that your existence is an issue and you must operate within standards of the law and they do not do anything but express the law, you are your own manager, you are a force guiding itself licensing itself for exploitation and an increase in wealth and blah blah blah you understand certainly. it's just so grim and stupid. it's a joke at its own expense and somehow it has not gone bankrupt, or perhaps it has and this is to its benefit. it inflates. the magic of capital.

anyway,

byebye!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

#Youtube

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khloeblair · 8 months

Text

Reflection:

I’m tired of being surrounded by creatures whose only interest is controlling me with their minds.

Everything I attempt to create is beautiful, and it gets distorted by the creepy vibrational rapist upstairs.

It is disheartening that I could be reaching so many people and yet have no way of defending myself from something so morally disfigured.

If my goal however is truly to spread light (and I don’t know that it is), I do not think it makes sense to ask for help.

I do not even know how.

I ask nonphys for help sometimes, but I can never be sure if it does me any good.

It’s instinctive, so maybe it does matter.

But I can’t tell for certain since I’ve also asked them to remove me from my body and they haven’t come through yet.

They do seem to help me find things when I cry at them, but how can I know whether they’re there?

I want to spend the rest of my time with Seth, but I still have to be on guard since I’m in such close proximity with a rapist.

Which means even being with Seth has to be kept at a certain level of censored.

It’s funny, I wasn’t expecting pure female nudity in Code Geass, but it seems the male character responsible for it was apologizing to me.

I appreciate it.

I was thinking that complimenting Seth could be hurtful to those who are watching, but what if I could convince others that I was merely showing them something they too had the ability to do?

What if others also spent a little time reminding themselves what they appreciate about someone or something important to them now or in their future?

I can’t say for sure whether this is like scripting.

I sort of let those things write themselves.

I tune to a subject and let my imagination fill in the blanks on autopilot.

Being a good fictional author is quite a challenge.

Not only do you have to completely channel an entire story arc, you have to present it artfully and eloquently.

I’m not quite there myself.

All I have access to is Seth, because I’m not brave enough to tune to all the vibes of Elensaire.

As for Seth, I feel less capable when I’m not aware of his presence.

I know he’s always here, but I’m not always able to feel him because I get distracted.

I keep having nightmares yet keep watching moderately scary shows.

Does the nightmare portion ever stop?

Is existence ever blissful or pleasant outside of letting oneself be compelled?

I keep feeling like I know too much to exist here.

I was hoping that job would come through, I really liked the office and was looking forward to more tasks and new friends.

I have to let that go, I guess.

The chances of someone having wanted to see me in person are probably high, and the person I reached out to hasn’t responded.

I’d like to go in there if that’s still an option, but I am not willing to attack people for something like that.

If that sounds like I don’t want it badly enough, so be it.

I am incapable of using violence to get my way.

It does not make my desires less valid or less important just because I have personal values.

Just because I refuse to hurt others when I recognize what I’m doing ahead of time.

My desire to avoid hurting people is at the core of my being. I cannot separate from it, ever.

Even rap and the promise of one day running the world—or at least its money—can no longer pull me out of that mindset.

It’s too bad that I can’t find a supervisor who is interested in a well-behaved subordinate.

I would think someone in power would want to keep someone on their team who willingly follows directions.

But maybe I’ve got it wrong. Maybe they’d prefer someone strong who they can make a show of breaking down.

In that case, I apologize, because I cannot give that to you.

All I can give you is willingness to do what you ask and to let you know ahead of time if I’m likely to miss a deadline.

Transparency.

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thoughtsaladblog · 1 year

Text

BFFL (best friends for lies)

I wanted a catchy title because that’s the first thing that can be seen on this blog that no one reads. So interestingly I’ve gone through a series of changes in my mental attitude and my general attitude towards different situations. I suddenly don’t care- nor have the time to care about the people who betray me. From stressing and trying desperately to retain and hold on to dwindling friendships; organizing countless meet-ups and nights out with people whom I’ve had to beg to simply show up; texting and calling so-called friends who’ve often left me on read and never taken the initiative to check up on me, I am now finally at a point where I simply don’t care. What did it take to get here? Oh simply an autoimmune condition that left me struggling to walk or move and is slowly taking away my lush head of hair.

Suddenly everything else doesn’t matter. Suddenly I matter to me. Suddenly I realize that I do in fact love myself to a certain extent- at least to the extent where I want to be able to move freely without pain and retain all the natural endowments I’ve been bestowed with. Suddenly I love me enough not to chase after people who don’t see my worth.

And on that note I come to the incident relating to my title. I was recently made privy to some interesting (for lack of a better word) information regarding my best friend of 23 years. Now, I was always aware that she didn’t contribute as much to our friendship as I had over the last 23 years, and loyalty wasn’t quite her strong suit- but I always chalked it down to her being an only child coming from a family of influence and therefore never having to be loyal because she always had people surrounding her- even though it was mainly to serve themselves. Yes, I have often wondered if she ever saw that my friendship came free- no strings attached and that her parents’ position in society played no role in the matter. But it never really bothered me to that extent- I guess the years of friendship loomed larger than these minor issues. She always had issues with insecurity and I learnt about that during our A-level years when a simple wish of good luck (with absolutely no hidden intentions) somehow backfired into an argument about me hitting on her man. It taught me a lesson I never quite forgot- Do Not get too friendly with her boyfriends. The only time I ever broke that rule was with her ex-husband and I dunno how that even happened but I guess we had just become this trio and it so happened that I was very friendly with him. But that was the only time- and even that somehow hit me on the head because in trying to help her patch up her marriage I was eventually accused of somehow trying to convert her!! *insert MAJOR eyeroll here*

So it’s been quite a few lessons learnt regarding how to approach her partners without being accused of somehow hitting on them. Ironically I never have been interested in any of her partners- before, during or after her involvements with them. So the accusations honestly are infuriating beyond words. But I have been patient- call me a pathetic loser; bad at confrontation or a wuss- but I simply kept my mouth shut and continued our friendship as if those issues never mattered. Simply altering my own ways so as to avoid any misunderstanding. But as mentioned before I’ve lately gone through a mental shift in which I no longer feel like putting up with that kid of disrespect.

Her recent involvement with Dowaan truly shed some light on exactly where I stood in her life. Apart from tearing me and Dowaan apart- because apparently our friendship made her uncomfortable- she had also shit talked about me to an extent I cannot quite fathom. I mean I’m no saint- yes if I’m with a guy I will talk about the issues in our friendship- like her lack of effort, the times she’s failed to be there for me when I needed her and stuff like that- but I’d never run her down the way she’d run me down. After all I’ve done over the past few years. Or simply in the last year. She accused me of hitting on ALL her men (WTF??! Bitch, I’ve never been interested in a single man of yours!) Apparently this is how I am. *Insert bigger eye roll* She told him about things I had told her in confidence and better yet, told him about how I never once took his side during a fight between them in which I believed he was at fault (I mean, are you currently shitting on me for actually having your back?!). So in her attempt to distance me from another one of my best friends, she made accusations that were not only untrue but also painted me in the worst light. And while I am extremely offended that Dowaan as my best friend didn’t have my back nor stand up for me, I’m livid to know that a 23 year old friendship had been a big fat lie all along.

My initial reaction was to confront her- not because I want an explanation (because no explanation she could offer could possibly make it ok), but because I wanted her to know that I am fully aware of how she’s treated me behind my back after all the times I’ve stood by her. But then I thought.. No. There’s no use of it- because she’s not likely to feel remorse for what she’s done nor change her ways. If anything, she’ll add this to her list of things to complain about me. And so my next thought was I no longer want this friendship. There’s an emotional attachment to letting go of a friendship of 23 years- no matter how toxic, one-sided and fake it may have been. And yes, it will hit me from time to time, but greater is my feeling of frustration that I do not want to entertain such a person. I don’t want to spend my time and energy on someone so completely ungrateful, because I do believe I deserve better. Twenty three years of friendship doesn’t make it excusable and I’m so deeply hurt with what I’ve learnt that I can’t quite imagine ever feeling myself around her again. Everything about our relationship now feels forced, because the constant at the back of my mind is her betrayal and suddenly I don’t want to put up with her drama anymore. I don’t want to pretend I’m ok anymore. I want to walk away but I also want to tell her why- not because she’ll care, but because I want her to know that words and actions have consequences. That you can’t treat the friends who stood by you (through all the men who used you and left you) like they don’t matter. And again all this for a 5 month relationship.

I feel like it’s time to call time of death, or at the very least distance myself, because I deserve better- for all the shit I’ve put up with over the years and the sacrifices I’ve made for this so-called friendship.

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watchcatewrite · 2 years

Text

Love So Soft

Read it on AO3 here.

Rating: Explicit

Category: F/M

Fandom: The Unbearable Weight of Massive Talent

Relationship(s): Javi Gutierrez x Reader, Javi Gutierrez x You

Additional Tags: Established Relationship, Cunnilingus, Vaginal Fingering, Praise Kink, Soft Dom, Vaginal Sex, Aftercare

Additional Notes: Guess what I watched this weekend. 👀 We’re not talking enough about how this is Pedro’s most perfect role. No, you cannot change my mind.

Javi spoils you.

He has since the very beginning, since you made him his café con leche one morning and he slipped 20 euros in your tip jar. Your first date he’d reserved an entire restaurant, where, to your delight, he’d ordered for you (including an extravagantly expensive bottle of wine), and the two of you had stayed until almost midnight talking about movies and American pop culture. After that came gifts, invitations to his pool for the afternoon (complete with poolside waitstaff), and eventually a weekend trip to Ibiza for the two of you, on Javi’s private jet. In the beginning it bothered you—the power imbalance it created between the two of you—until you realized that it wasn’t about power for him, Javi just genuinely enjoyed spoiling you.

“Please, princesa, I have more money than any one man could ever need. Let me spend a little on you. It’ll help me sleep better at night, knowing I’ve made you happy.”

How could you say no to that?

It had been overwhelming at first, the attention Javi lavished on you. You’d had mostly underwhelming relationships your entire life, men who treated you like an inconvenience at best, and a secret at worst. It took you a long time to trust that Javi was truly interested in you, with no ulterior motives. Though your chemistry had been electric from the beginning you’d spent months keeping him from your bed, waiting for him to lose interest when you refused the one thing the others had assured you was your best quality.

But not Javi.

He only grew sweeter: driving you from shop to shop in Majorca until you found something in your size, having swimsuits and dresses custom ordered for you that fit so perfectly they brought a tear to your eye. The first time you’d undressed to show him the lingerie he’d picked out for you you’d watched with a fluttering feeling as Javi went silent, speechless at the sight of you. The reverence with which he touched you, the way he made you feel delicate and cherished, was a heady feeling. Even now, nearly a year into dating, you still felt overcome by it occasionally.

“Princesa?”

Javi’s soft voice floated through the empty home, reaching you in your favorite room.

“In here, baby.”

You lifted your eyes from your book to watch as his head poked around the doorframe, his face brightening in a smile as he took you in, curled up on the soft, green velvet couch. The combination home office and small library had quickly become your sanctuary in the big house, where you’d spent afternoons nestled into your favorite spot as Javi worked. The shelves now held a combination of Javi’s books and your own—ones you’d brought from your apartment and those Javi had gifted to you. He’d quickly realized that as much as you loved the clothes, and trips, and other things, books were truly the way to your heart.

Javi made his way over to the couch, dropping into its soft depths and turning until his head could rest in your lap, his loafered feet hanging over the opposite arm. You stroked your fingers through his soft curls, moving them away from his brow. After only a few minutes Javi’s eyes slipped closed, a content smile on his face, as tension bled from his shoulders. It filled you with warmth to see the effect you had on him. Javi had given you so much, made you feel safe and loved, you only hoped you could do the same for him.

“Long day?”

His head moved gently up and down, hair ruffling against your dress. “Endless.”

You let out a little laugh and watched a grin tug at his lips. “I’m so glad you made it through.”

“It was a close one, princesa. I thought that investors meeting was going to do me in.”

“You poor baby.”

Javi smiled wider, shifting until he could bury his face in your stomach. His breath against your skin tickled, and you giggled quietly, your fingers resuming their pace through his hair. Javi brought up an arm, gently wrapping it around your waist and pulling you tighter against him. You could feel the press of his lips against your stomach, an action that might have made you feel uncomfortable once, but now filled you with the same fluttering feeling you’d come to expect with Javi. You knew he found every inch of you beautiful and he made it difficult not to feel the same.

“You’re going to suffocate down there.”

You could feel his smile against your stomach. “But oh, what a way to go, mi amor.”

His words surprised a laugh out of you, and his grin widened. Finally he pulled back, glancing up at you with brown eyes warm with affection. You couldn’t help carding your fingers through his hair again, pushing back the soft curls. They were in a bit of disarray now, but neither of you minded. You liked the soft, comfortable Javi he was at home, when he had no demands on his time other than you, and the two of you could get lost in each other for a few hours.

“What are you reading?”

You turned the book with your other hand so he could see the cover. “Little Weirds? It’s a collection of essays by the actress, Jenny Slate.”

“Are you liking it?”

You nodded, your cheeks heating with a blush. “It’s one of my favorites. This is maybe my fifth or sixth time reading it.”

Javi shifted again, until he could see you better. “Read me a bit of it? Please?”

You smiled indulgently, stroking through his hair again and nodding. You picked up where you left off, reading out loud quietly. At first Javi was rapt with attention, his eyes never leaving your face, though yours stayed focused on the pages. After a few moments he shifted again, settling further between your legs until it forced you to move, bringing up one leg and pressing your back into the arm of the couch. Javi settled between your thighs, his head still pillowed on your stomach and his arm around your waist.

He was content, for a while, your fingers still moving through his hair at a measured pace as you read. But before long he was moving again, turning his head until his face pressed back against your stomach, his lips leaving small kisses as they moved across your skin. A smile pushed at the corners of your lips but you kept reading, your tone and speed unchanging. He grew more insistent, moving over more of you, until his hands began to slowly bunch up the fabric of your dress, revealing new real estate prime for kissing. The first press of his lips against your inner thigh sent a shiver down your spine, and you sucked in a breath.

“Javi.” You warned. “You asked me to read to you, baby.”

“I’m listening.”

He didn’t sound the least bit apologetic, and your eyes fell closed for a moment as he mouthed gently at the sensitive spot where your thigh met your hip. Your words stuttered as he moved over your lower abdomen, his lips brushing against the cotton of your panties. You had a moment to wish you were wearing something sexier, but then Javi let out an appreciative little moan, and the thought was gone just as quickly. You should know better by now, the man loved you in literally anything. His tongue reached out tentatively, licking the small wet spot growing at the front of your underwear, and this time it was you who let out a little moan.

“So wet, princesa. Is this for me?”

Your book dangled from your fingers precariously. “You know it is, Javi.”

He nosed at the wet spot gently, and you let out a little whimper. “I thought you were reading, princesa.”

The repeated use of the pet name sent a delighted shiver down your spine, and you swore you could feel Javi smiling at your reaction. “Keep going, I want to hear more.”

Bastard. You slowly brought back up your book, trying to focus on the words swimming across the page. Your voice wavered when you started again but Javi gave you a moment, leaving you untouched as you tried to find your pace. It was only a moment, however, and before long he was nosing at you again, the curve of it hitting your clit in a way that sent electricity through your whole body, as he inhaled the scent of you.

“You smell like heaven, princesa. Maybe just a taste…”

His long, thick fingers hooked into the waist of your panties, drawing them down slowly until cool air hit your heated skin. You gasped, unconsciously arching your back and offering your cunt up to him, silently begging for his mouth. Javi let out a chuckle, and you whined plaintively. He placed another kiss against your pubic mound, moving slowly lower, but never quite to the spot he’d hinted at. The spot you were dying for his mouth. Bastard.

You tried to keep reading, some small bit of you thinking that if you were good, if you did as he asked, he’d give you what you want, but it was useless. His mustache tickled against you, and you let out a little moan, trying to move so his mouth landed where you wanted it. Instead his arms only tightened at your sides, holding you still as he pulled your panties down even further. You whined but settled back against the couch, knowing it was useless. Javi hummed happily.

“That’s my good girl. I’ll give you what you want, don’t I always, princesa? But you have to be patient.” He placed a kiss just above your clit and you whimpered quietly. “A man can’t be rushed when he’s enjoying something so exquisite.”

“Please, Javi.” The book went slack in your hand again, as the fingers of your other hand tightened in his hair. “Please.”

“You don’t want to read anymore?” Wicked man. There was a glint in his eyes that was all too familiar, the same glint when he watched you get excited over a perfect present, or when he opened the door for you and you blushed.

“No.” Your head moved rapidly back and forth.

“But it’s your favorite. You said so.”

“Javi.” A warning that melted into a plea. “Please, baby.”

He glanced down at where you were bare before him, his eyes dark with lust. You’d never get over the way he looked at you, the hunger that raised goosebumps across your skin. Your underwear was still tight around your upper thighs, his hands holding you firmly, but slowly he eased it down, shifting from side to side until he could pull them off one leg and then the other. They disappeared over the side of the couch, and then Javi was taking large handfuls of the back of your thighs, lifting them up and out until you were spread wide in front of him. You whimpered, a blush warming your skin, and Javi pressed a wet kiss into the top of each thigh. “So fucking beautiful, mi amor. Just look at you.”

There was a time not so long ago that you wouldn’t have believed him, that you wouldn’t have been able to look at yourself and see what he saw. But Javi had slowly stripped that away the last year, showing you how loved and cherished you were. How much he adored you. How much he wanted you. You glanced down at your pussy, wet with the arousal he inspired in you, and felt magnificent.

“Please, Javi.”

Finally, finally, he lowered his mouth to you, enveloping your clit in wet heat, and you let out a cry. There was little teasing after that, just the pressure of his tongue pressed flat against your clit as it moved over you again and again. Javi ate you out like he was a man dying for sustenance, and you were the only thing keeping him going. It made your toes curl, made your heart hammer, until all other thoughts disappeared, and all you could focus on was the intense pleasure that flooded your body in waves.

Javi hummed with your clit still in his mouth and you gasped, arching up against him. He only held you tighter, pressing you into the couch as he spread you wider and wider for better access. You felt filthy and embarrassed, but so deliciously good that you didn’t even care. Nothing mattered but Javi’s mouth on your pussy, the pleasure that he pulled from your body like it was his for the taking. Maybe it was. He gave you everything you’d ever wanted, you could give him this.

“Look at you spread so beautifully for me, princesa. Put your hands under your knees so I can sink my fingers into this soft cunt.”

You obeyed without protest and Javi murmured praises into your skin along with more kisses. Two large fingers slipped into you with ease, as Javi wrapped his lips around your clit again, and then he was crooking them, perfectly, inside of you until you burned white hot. He whispered more praise as he licked and sucked at your clit, moving his fingers inside of you until you could barely breathe, your back arched impossibly high and your eyes clenched shut.

“You’re heaven, princesa. Heaven.”

“Javi.”

A gasp was all you could manage as your body coiled even tighter, as Javi dragged you closer and closer to the edge. It was like he knew every place to touch and to taste to make you absolutely desperate. You whined and moaned, holding on to your knees with all your strength until your fingers whitened and you knew bruises would be left behind. Still he didn’t slow, didn’t ease up, drawing everything from you until you could feel tears gathering at the corners of your eyes. Javi stroked inside of you, his thumb brushing over your sensitive clit, as he watched your face.

“That’s it, princesa. Give it to me. Come all over my hand, I know you want to.”

Javi rubbed a hard circle into your clit, as his fingers pressed into your g-spot and you came undone with a gasp. You could feel as you clenched around his fingers and Javi groaned, bringing his mouth to you again. Every nerve felt exposed as you trembled with the force of it, Javi’s lips sucking gently on your clit as you experienced wave after wave. You slumped back against the couch, your legs slipping from your grasp, but Javi caught them just as you started to fall.

“No, no, mi amor. We’re not quite done yet.” He waited until your hands replaced his own. “That’s it. Hold yourself open for me, princesa. I want to feel this sweet pussy grip my cock like it gripped my fingers.”

“Javi.” You whimpered as he undid his belt, pulling himself free and rubbing the head of his cock against your entrance. “I can’t—“

“Yes you can, princesa. I know you can.” You watched as he rubbed himself between your folds, coating himself in the pleasure he’d drawn from you. “Such a good girl. So beautiful, holding yourself open for me. That’s it.”

Slowly Javi pressed himself into you, stopping each time you gasped and giving you time to adjust. “That’s it. Look how beautifully you take it.”

You whimpered quietly, and even you knew you sounded pathetic. This man had undone you, shattered you as perfectly as he’d built you up. You’d never felt like this with anyone else, never trusted someone to take you apart so carefully, knowing he’d put you back together again. You wanted him, every piece of him—wanted him buried so deep inside you that you’d never be without him again. When he came inside of you you wanted it to never wash out, so that you were marked as his, always.

Javi groaned as he finally bottomed out inside of you, his hips flush against your own. “Dios mio, princesa. Perfect. Fucking perfect.”

You were so full you could hardly breathe, thoughts disappearing from your mind until all you could focus on was the delicious, perfect stretch of him. Every time you worried he wouldn’t fit, and every time he seated himself inside of you like it was where he was meant to be. Maybe it was where he was meant to be.

And then he began to rock his hips.

You let out a cry, your back arching again as electricity crackled over your skin. You were still so sensitive from your orgasm, your body pulled so tightly with need, that every small movement felt almost unbearable. Javi whispered more praise to you as he began moving in ernest, his strokes growing longer and more forceful. You moaned each time he hit home, his pubic hair brushing your oversensitive clit in a way that was almost overwhelming. Javi reached down a hand to press his thumb to your clit and you shuddered apart again.

“Fuck, princesa.” He groaned. “I don’t know how much more I can take. This cunt… incredible.”

You moaned as you clenched and pulsed around his hard length, his pace never faltering as he drove you higher and higher, back to that impossible edge. Your arms strained with the effort of holding yourself up, until finally the tears that had held back were released.

“Please, Javi, I can’t.”

“Shhh, mi amor.” Javi reached out with one of those large, soft hands, cradling your cheek so gently it brought a new wave of tears you couldn’t control. “You can do it, I know you can. One more for me, mi vida, one more.”

It was too much: the love in his eyes as Javi fucked into you perfectly, the way his thumb moved over your clit just right, the praise and endearment that fell from his lips so effortlessly. Your vision went white as you came again, eyes squeezed shut so tightly that there was a ringing in your ears. Javi followed you over the edge with a groan, his hand still on your cheek as your pussy milked him for every drop of his release. It coated the inside of you, giving you the only gift you’d truly wanted: him.

Javi slumped forward and your hands finally fell from your knees, wrapping around his back as you drew him into you. His head landed to rest in the crook of your neck, his breathing just as harsh as your own, hearts beating a matching, frenzied pace. He pressed lazy kisses into your skin, both of you utterly spent, but still unable to stop. Praise still fell from his lips, his voice soft and hazy with satisfaction.

“So beautiful, princesa. So perfect.”

When he could finally stand, Javi drew you into his arms and lifted you from the library’s couch. The picture you painted must have been comical—Javi’s limp dick hanging from his unzipped pants, and your dress bunched up around your hips—but you didn’t have the energy to care. When he reached the bathroom he turned the taps on in the bathtub before he sunk to the floor and draped you over his lap. Your head rested against his chest, where you could hear his heartbeat returning to normal, your own reaching a similar tempo.

“I love you, mi vida. I never knew I could love someone so much.”

Tears rushed to your eyes again, but you were too tired to blink, let alone cry. “I love you too, Javi.”

When the water was warm Javi helped you undress before doing the same, sinking you both into the water as he pulled you back against his chest. Javi spoiled you, it was true, but for the first time in your life you felt like someone worthy of being spoiled.

#the unbearable weight of massive talent #javi gutierrez #javi gutierrez x you #javi gutierrez x reader #the unbearable weight of massive talent fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal

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