/ there is a video of jared padalecki making fun of black culture and using black stereotypes. i've seen a lot of vague posting about it in the verse, and that is not okay. say it with your chest.
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"so long as I dont have to hear it repeat everything back in three different languages, i'm a happy man." owen said, and practically jumped out of his chair.
any moment longer in front of that computer and he was going to start counting the threads in his +
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" she— most likely has it working by now. enough for basics, most likely. it's iffy but it's never absolutely failed, " he didn't ignore owen's first comment. not at all.
but it was better not to outwardly acknowledge it and say something wrong. somehow make it worse, as +
shirt. any moment longer he allowed himself to think or feel was a second best spent elsewhere.
jacks lack of acknowledgement didn't upset him, quite the opposite. in fact, he was glad his outburst was left in the dark, where it belonged. he can put his mind to greater use +
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now that train of thought started, it’s difficult to stop. “everything i’ve done, all the people i’ve saved and none of it matters. that’s it - my life, for what?” rhetorical question. he never feared being on the wrong end of a firearm, he was ready +
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" . . . 𝒚𝒆𝒂𝒉— " after all. he's never shown anyone how he really is. that man is long lost, way before he gained immortality. before jack was his alias of choice. his lifeline and personal fallback crutch.
" god if i don't know how that is, " and he, on many levels +
someone else, if he’s able to-
he’s looking at the camera footage displayed on a nearby monitor. “has tosh got that dodgy translator operational?” the alien is pressed against the observation glass, seemingly trying to get some attention. he's changing the subject +
that jack genuinely wants to help by saying something he knew would offend him. but instead, he's looking at jack, searching for something to say. something genuine.
"i'm losing myself." it's all he could manage, but its real.
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"what? i'm everyone's type." a joke, one he is now playing up by folding arms over his chest and scowling. he's never been able to take jacks jabs and jokes seriously, and its probably a good thing.
he wants to make another joke, or brush off the reality +
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" yeah and as it happens, you aren't my type either. " he'd never genuinely hit on owen in that way after all. he does, actually differentiate friends from whatever else, despite his constant teases and flirtations.
" besides the point, i'm always around to listen +
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if there was something to be done about his condition, he would like to have found it by now. anything that didn't didnt require a theft.
"sorry to inform you, you're not my type," owen tilted further back in his chair, the wheels threatening to tip. +
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" 𝒘𝒆'𝒍𝒍 figure something out together then maybe. and no, i'm not suggesting anything like that, so don't get all 'oh yuck' at this point. "
not being a whore? precisely. trying to be helpful, and maybe brainstorm something for owen to be occupied with. he still +
there to demand attention. he had a program running an advanced life-cycle of a bacteria found on one of the aliens wounds. it seemed mostly harmless, although that was mostly guesswork. the computer screen was giving him the same results, seems it cant live very long +