#ABR series

[cherrhara]

huevember day 21, change

[thehours2002]

Introducing a new series of video highlights I like to call, "I Watched an Amy Ryan Movie So You Don't Have To."

Entry No. 1: The sexy, mean bar patron in Bob Funk (2009)

[danataikoprensa]

Laura Sarmiento (Creadora), Jorge Torregrossa, Laura Mañá

Guion

Laura Sarmiento, Carlos López, Eduard Sola

[loliwrites]

November: Nothing's Gonna Stop Us Now

part four of fountain of sorrow

pairing: javier peña x f!reader rating: explicit, 18+ minors dni  warnings/tags: set between s2 & s3, early/mid ‘90s, single mother [reader has a young daughter][child won’t play a massive role], sassy chucho, chickens, brief discussion of past physical abuse [not graphic], javi being a good girl dad, SMUT, fingering, mild exhibitionism, oral (m receiving), unprotected p in v sex, subtle declarations of love-ish, post-sex photos, female reader, no physical description, girl dad!javi, soft!javi, protective!javi, no use of y/n. word count: 8.0k series masterlist a/n: ALL CAPS EXCITEMENT

Javi combed his hair in his normal style, then inspected his mustache, making sure it looked neat and tidy. He ran his hand over his mouth and then jostled his shoulders. A quick glance in the mirror and a swipe at an errant wrinkle on his button down shirt. The last time he’d been on a proper date… well he ventured to figure that was way back when with Lorraine. A little out of practice here, which somehow felt even stranger considering he was so well practiced with the sex that usually came after proper dates.

He’d only just flicked off the bathroom light when the knock at his door came and was paid little attention. Probably just a neighbor. The more who knew he was back in town, the more came over to ask a favor or rehash the miserable past. So he paid the second round of knocking even less attention than the first. Surely they’d get the hint and move on. Leave him alone.

“Javier! Abre la puerta, pendejo!”

No one more than his father loved to call him that. And hearing Chucho’s increasingly frustrated grumbles, Javi rushed to the door and yanked it open just as equally frustrated as his father. “What?”

“That’s how you greet your father now?” Chucho pushed past Javi and entered the house mumbling under his breath, “cabrón.” Then, as if it had taken him a few extra seconds to realize his son looked more put together than usual, he spun around and eyed Javier. His eyes flicked up and down to inspect him. “Where’re you going?”

“What do you need, dad?”

Chucho smirked and folded his arms over his chest. “My boy’s got a girlfriend, don’t he?”

“Dad,”

“Who’s she? Do I know her?”

“Do you need something? I have to leave,”

“Came by to say you’re off the hook on helping me with the chicken coop on Saturday. Throwin’ a pre-Thanksgiving barbecue.”

“Great,” Javi tried to usher Chucho back toward the door.

Chucho complied but not without his own ace up his sleeve, “bring the girl that’s put’ya in such a stellar mood. And before you say no, I’ll make you fix the coop by yourself if you don’t.”

“She’s kind of busy on the weekends,”

“Figure it out, son.”

❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖

You stared at yourself in the mirror, trying not to focus too much on all the things you thought were out of place. You knew in actuality they weren’t. It was your brain nitpicking. And for what? It wasn’t as if this was the first time he’d be seeing you. And clothed no less! Four months of near constant sex over the weekends mixed with long weekdays of enduring solitude and loneliness. But since Javi had brought up the idea of an actual date, there’d been two sides of you tugging against each other. The one side that was excited to see what this meant in terms of what was happening between you two. You hadn’t thrown dating seriously off the table completely, you just didn’t think you’d do that with him. Which is exactly where the other half of you stepped in. The half that was sure Javi wasn’t the person to get serious with. Keep him under the cloak of darkness.

And life had given you unexpected time to dwell on it. Because after it was floated as an idea you had a buffer week of you being busy with Halloween plans. And then the following week Lily was home from school with the flu. The week after that, you’d picked up the nasty bug courtesy of her. By that point, Javi realized waiting for a free weekend from you was costing him more time – at least as a date went. He still got to see you those nights for sex. So he pitched a weeknight date. After work, drop the muñequita off with your mom, and he’d pick you up from there.

“He’s here!” Your mom called out from the other room. You gave yourself one more parting glance before exiting the bathroom. “Why are his pants so tight?”

“Mom,” you tilted your head to the side and complained. It was giving you flashbacks from high school. Back when she’d interrogate your suitors like you assumed a father would, had yours stuck around. But that was all you managed to say before you kissed the head of your little angel who was busying herself with a coloring book. “I won’t be back too late. Probably ten or so,”

She nodded and waved her hand at you. Don’t worry about it. Go have yourself a fun night. And with one last grateful smile at her, you pulled the front door open and slipped out of it just in time to intercept Javi as he was coming up the driveway. He looked just as good as ever. Almost made you sad you’d be in public tonight. And though he looked the same, he was holding a small bouquet of flowers in front of him, and that was new. A little more thoughtful than most gestures from him.

“You look great,” he smiled and leaned in for an immediate kiss. 

You reciprocated instantly, feeling an innate sense that your mom was most definitely looking out the front window, watching you. So you pulled away and looked down at your outfit after a quick, chaste peck. “Yeah? Are those for me?”

“Yeah,” he grinned and handed the bouquet over.

You fondled the delicate petals before burying your nose in them. A surprisingly nice scent, and also surprisingly, not some filler flower. You wouldn’t have expected a guy like him to have good taste. “Let me put these inside. I’ll be right out, then we can go,”

He nodded though you’d already turned away from him, heading back for the house. And seeing as though it wasn’t at all an invitation, Javi stood in place and looked around awkwardly, pushing his hands into his pockets, awaiting your return.

❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖

If there was any part of you that thought the awkwardness would dissipate once at dinner, you were sorely, sorely mistaken. It all remained as if both of you were unsure of who the other person was, what the intention was… and you knew he was picking up on it, too. The way his cheeks grew red whenever he accidentally interrupted you. The way that redness progressed to his ears when he said something that might’ve been a little off-color given your date taking place in what could be described as Laredo’s nicest restaurant.

You’d run the gamut of small talk. Things that were absolutely asinine given the fact that he’d already been inside you. How was the muñequita doing? How was work? What’d you study in school? You figured driving your fork into your eyeballs would’ve been less painful. The wine he ordered hadn’t helped either. And just when you started to think there wasn’t anything here other than a sexual connection between you, the waiter dropped an unexpected dessert on the table between you. A small piece of chocolate cake, garnished with fudge and raspberries. You didn’t know it at the time, but that cake was your saving grace. Whether it was the chocolate, the raspberries, the fact that it was a giant plate of aphrodisiacs, or if Javi just got it in his head that what was happening was ridiculous, he finally spoke up.

“What the fuck’s going on?”

You choked on a raspberry and looked up at him. It wasn’t accusatory. More of just a statement acutely aware of the situation. And it lifted a massive weight off your shoulders and chest. “It’s weird, right?”

He shoved another forkful of cake into his mouth, “we’re so good at fucking, how can we be so bad at this?”

“We should be good at this!”

“We should be great at this!” He agreed, setting his fork down on the plate, effectively leaving the rest to you.

“So make it better,”

And that made Javi smile. The smile you were used to seeing. The one that was way too charming for his own good. Way too charming for your own good. He reached out across the table, palm upright. It struck you as odd that despite having gone through the entire meal, this was the first time he was making an effort at physical contact. Feeling like this might be the last thing you both needed to be at complete ease, you wasted no time in resting your hand in his, fingers intertwining and squeezing together.

“Maybe we should actually get to know each other. I mean, about things other than what gets you off,” he smirked and you sensed the real, true Javi coming back to you. “What’s your story? No one chooses Laredo just because,”

You nodded and set your fork down, buying yourself a little bit of time. You knew this story would require you to bring up your daughter’s father, but you also knew that if you expected him to be forthcoming with the questions you were bound to ask, you’d need to give him something. Like this. 

“My ex, but then boyfriend, got a job in town and I thought we were in love. Because I’m an idiot. So I followed him out here. And about three months later, I’m knocked up, trying to get him to not be an asshole and failing. And the muñequita, as you like to call her, was about a month old when a judge told me in no uncertain terms that I wasn’t enough to raise a child. That she would do best in proximity to her father. What that judge knew and didn’t care to take into consideration with his final decision, was that her father’s not actually a good person. While he hasn’t ever laid a hand on her, the same can’t be said for his hands on me.” As the words came out of your mouth, they sounded so foreign to you. They were said with such little emotion. So matter of fact. You’d already cried all the tears you had to offer. They hadn’t done you any good back then and they wouldn’t do you any good now. “So I’m stuck in Laredo for a while. Until he proves to be even more of an asshole than he already is. Or until she turns eighteen.

“It’s not all that bad,” you smiled. “I mean it’s not great, but there are upsides. My mom moved from Corpus Christi to be closer and help. So I see her more now than I ever did in San Antonio. And I like my job, clerking. Probably would’ve never got the chance to do it in a bigger city. And honestly… I love your dad.”

“There’s no way my dad’s your plus to Laredo,” Javier grinned, a blush rising in his cheeks.

You giggled and nodded, wrapping your other hand around his so now it was fully encompassed in your grip. “He is. He’s the type of dad I wish I had. The type of dad I wish my daughter had,” you caught Javi’s glance and squeezed his hand. “You know he stands up for me when I’m at the bar? He stands up for all the girls, but I like to think he likes me most,”

“You’re certainly the only one he calls chiquita,”

“He’s a good man,”

Javi leaned back in his chair with a whistle through his teeth. “Then you’ll be glad to know you’re invited to his Thanksgiving barbecue this Saturday. And you don’t have the option to decline, unfortunately. Mostly because you declining means I have to do ranch work.”

“Back up. Explain, Peña,” you released his hand and grabbed your wine glass for a long sip. Chances were you weren’t drunk enough for this.

“He’s throwing a barbecue and insisted I bring the woman I’ve been seeing. Been wondering why I don’t go to the bar with him anymore. Never answer his calls on this weekends. Saw me all fixed up tonight before I went to pick you up. Figured I must shacked up with someone. So… I’m so glad you love him because you have to go,” 

“You know I work weekends,”

“It’s during the day,”

You pursed your lips together, squinting as if weighing your options, “I’ll go if you answer one question,” you smirked. This was your moment to get the answer to the question you’d been asking him for months. “Why’d you leave Colombia?”

Javi’s eyes quickly averted back to the half-eaten dessert between you two. He cleared his throat and pressed his forearms on the table to drag himself more upright. Closer to you now, using it to be able to keep his voice low, lest nosy locals be around. He gave you more of an answer than you ever expected him to. He told you all about Pablo Escobar and the others that made up the Medellín cartel. He gave you details about the violence they were capable of. He explained the delicate spider web of egos that made up the DEA, cartel, and communist guerillas. And how any little fracture or splinter to the egos of the drug lords or communists meant that his life and the lives of other agents were at greater risk. And he gave you all of that explanation and backstory before he got to answering your question. About how he’d skirted around laws to rally the guerillas into an unrestrainable and unmanageable murderous vigilante group, Los Pepes. And then how he flat out ignored the laws and the ambassador. How Los Pepes was a little too good at their job. How he, and the DEA, and CIA knew he’d gotten in way too far over his head and one day they’d be coming after him. And suddenly the thing he’d worked years for – the thing they were so close to he could taste it – was stripped away from him. Catching Pablo Escobar would be someone else’s headline.

And you wanted to… cry for him. For the pain he’d endured, physically and otherwise. For the things he had to witness, whether he’d signed up for it or not. For all the things he’d worked so hard for in his career and would never get the chance to see through. You figured it was where he put all his love. All the genuine love and care that he hadn’t been able to give to a romantic partner, he’d given to his work.

So that’s why how ended up here. Walking up the drive to Chucho’s long, one story ranch house. One hand clutching Javi’s and the other holding that of your daughter’s. Bringing her along hadn’t been the original plan. Hadn’t even been in your wildest dreams until your mom called the afternoon before and said she was going back home, to Corpus Christi, to visit her sister who’d taken a fall. She didn’t want to leave you in a bind… didn’t want you to have to rely on your baby daddy more… but she had to go. And you knew you were already going to have to pawn her off on her dad tonight while you were at The Tack Room, so wanting to limit her time with him as much as possible, you asked Javi if she could come along. Actually, you sprung it on him as he was standing at your front door. Pouted your lips and batted your biggest, saddest eyes at him, hoping it’d be enough to convince him. What you didn’t know was that he didn't need to be convinced. All you had to do was say the word and you’d get whatever you wanted. No questions asked.

Javier wondered what his dad would say when he saw you walk into the backyard with him. And what he’d think about your daughter tagging along. Figured he’d get a good laugh out of it. Out of his son being father-like. Gentle to a little girl that wasn’t his. Javier hoped part of his dad would be proud. He’d prepared himself that this would be your launch to his dad and a few of his friends. What he hadn’t been prepared for was that it’d be your launch to practically everyone in the neighborhood. He heard the Spanish music first; so loud on the radio that he figured the speakers were straining beneath the reverberation. Beneath the guitar and lyrics was the hum of chatter of the neighbors. Some he could point out definitively as he opened up the side gate and escorted you and the muñequita into the yard. Miss Rosalia and her uninhibited, thundering laugh. She was almost as old as Chucho and had spent many nights in her younger years watching over Javi until he was old enough to look after himself. Pancho’s grandkids – Lily and Jason – their high pitched squeals of delight. Which meant their parents, Pancho’s daughter Maria and her gringo husband Michael were surely around too. Yet through all the noise and the mass of people in the yard, Javier found the sight of his father at first glance. On the patio, cowboy hat low on his head, glasses even lower down the bridge of his nose, popping the caps off a couple Modelos.

It was like they were magnets attuned to each other because no sooner than you followed Javi’s gaze toward his father, you found that Chucho was already looking back at the both of you. And before you knew it, Javi was tugging your hand forward, taking you in tow with him. Weaving through the partygoers, you garnered looks from the majority of them… mostly the women, whose eyes seemed to flick between you and Javier and back. As if attempting to figure out what made you so special. And what they didn’t know was that it wasn’t Javi that made you special. It was his father.

“Hola chiquita,”

A beam broke out over your face, “hola Chucho,”

He leaned in and kissed your cheek, then affectionately, looked down. “Quién es este?”

You looked down at your daughter and mentioned her name. Over your shoulder, you could feel Javier’s eyes on her, too. 

Chucho smiled and tilted his hat back, away from his face as he crouched down with a gentle smile, “hola chiquitita,” he held his hand out to her and she shook it.

“Javi calls her muñequita,”

On instinct, Chucho’s eyes flicked back up to his son, “does he now?” And finding Javier’s sheepish expression more than prize enough, Chucho looked back down in front of him, “muñequita, do you want some lemonade?” Off her eager nod, he nodded his head off to the side, “vamos.”

Once you were left alone with Javi again, you looked up at him. His expression still harboring the pink hue of embarrassment. You curled yourself into his side, practically forcing his arm to wrap around you while you set a hand on his stomach. He looked down at you and squeezed your shoulder.

“Good?” He murmured.

“We’re getting a lot of looks,” you let your eyes drift over the crowd only momentarily. Then back up at him.

“Let ‘em look, querida,” he hummed, lowering himself down to crowd your space. And with lips hovering over yours, “let’s make ‘em jealous.”

❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖

Javier kept his hand tightly clutched around the muñequita’s as he helped her climb over the two by four protruding from the ground and leading into the chicken coop. She was a little unsteady and gripping his hand nearly as tight as he was gripping hers.

“Careful,” he cautioned softly, “the chicken wire is sharp.”

She looked at her other hand, the one clutched around the hexagonal openings in the wired door. After taking a moment to process, she uncurled her fingers from it and held it out to the side for balance. Javi shut the door behind them once they were in, and he knelt down to fit inside the enclosure.

“Chickies!” the muñequita shrieked at the top of her lungs. To Javier’s surprise, she didn’t seem scared of them at all despite their erratic motion. “This a boy?”

He followed the direction of her pointed finger – to a large, speckled chicken pecking at the ground. He rested a forearm over his bent knee, settling his other hand on his opposite thigh. “These are all girls. You have to keep the boys and the girls separate,”

Only half-paying attention, she reached out to touch it, only to become startled when it flapped its wings. The whooshing sent her hair blowing back and she ran back to Javi, tucking herself into him. Her back pressed up against his chest and her tiny hands on his knee. “Why?”

“‘Cause they’ll…” he stopped himself and curled his arm around her protectively when another of the chickens let out an ear-piercing string of clucks. “Sometimes the boys annoy the girls,”

From your vantage point at one of the tables on the patio, you watched the whole thing unfold in the chicken coop. The way he remained attentive to her the entire time. To how she ran to him after being frightened. And how he went to shield her from harm. Originally you’d thought the hardest thing about today would be dodging all the bitter glances from the women. Turned out the hardest thing about today was fighting the feeling of love that was growing inside you.

And then Chucho appeared beside you, taking a seat and sliding a plate of food over to you. He followed your gaze out to the chicken coop and took a sip from his beer bottle. “He’s good with her,”

You felt your face grow warmer and you decided to cover it up by reaching forward to dip a tortilla chip into some homemade guacamole. “She really likes him,” then pushing the chip into your mouth, “but what’s not to like? You raised a good boy,”

“He’s an asshole,” Chucho grinned. It made you giggle, too. “When did this start up?”

To even your surprise, you told him the absolute truth. Minus all the juicy details about the sex life you shared with his son. But about the day you first met him. And how he’d come visit you at The Tack Room as long as his dad wasn’t there. Chucho scoffed at that. But he softened again when you recounted your first actual date with Javi, and how he’d finally managed to open up about Colombia. As you ended the explanation, you started to feel sort of odd about opening up to him in this way not even knowing how much his own son had told him. Apparently not much.

“He’s treatin’ you well?” Chucho’s gaze drifted back to the chicken coop, where Javi was exiting, this time holding the muñequita. His forearm beneath her legs and her arms around his neck. “I’ll kick his ass if he isn’t,”

“I’ll kick his ass if he isn’t,”

A fleeting smile passed over Chucho’s face. Now Javi was on his way back to the patio. “This ain’t a knock against my son. Javier does his best. But you protect yourself… your heart, I mean. ‘Cause my son’s been known to break ‘em.” Chucho stood up, “got a mind of his own, that one. And sometimes it don’t work too good,”

It was then you looked back up at Javier just as he was setting your daughter down on her feet. She was squirming in his arms, anxious to be set free as Pancho’s grandkids came up and asked if she wanted to play tag with them. Could that be the same man Chucho was warning you about? In the back of your mind you knew it was. Women throughout Laredo could testify to it. But when he fell back in step toward the patio and caught your gaze, the smile that erupted over his face made you think that it was different now. Then it made you think that you were foolish. Who were you to change a man’s behavior? Shit. You hadn’t even able to get your ex to become decent enough to help pay for his kid. 

There was no hidden agenda to your next move. No secret plan to get him alone. Just the discomfort rising in your throat that he might catch on that you were back in your head again. And god forbid you both endure any amount of returned awkwardness like that of the date. So you gathered the empty beer bottles and plastic plates on the table; using the skills practiced to perfection from work, and carried on in through the back door to dispose of them. Perhaps you should’ve asked Chucho, or even Javi, before entering the house. No one had asked you to do so, and you wondered if it was off limits as you carried on into the kitchen. Just outside the window by the sink, you could see the party carrying on, oblivious to your new absence.

But the back door reopened and you looked up at the newcomer, ready to apologize for intruding. But you quickly found it was only Javier. He rounded the counter to approach you; a cheeky grin on his face that he’d finally done it. He’d gotten you alone. And that smile… it got you thinking again that it was different.

“You come to help me tidy up?” You give a smirk of your own knowing fully well he hadn’t. That was surely the last thing on his mind. Proven by the way he slid up behind your and wrapped his arms around your waist; hands wrapping around you and pulling you back into his body. Your ass brushed along the outline of his cock and it had you turning your head to the side to catch a glimpse of him. A disapproving shake of the head. “Javi,”

He tucked his face into your neck and kissed it, grazing his teeth gently across your skin. His hands squeezed your hips, holding you tighter to his body despite your futile opposition. Opposition which ultimately looked like you tilting your head to the side to allow him more space with your neck.

“What if your dad comes in?” Your eyes drifted shut. As if the question would make it come true, you didn’t want to bear witness to it.

“Why would he come in?”

“‘Cause it’s his–”

He cut you off by sliding one of his hands down from your hip and undid the button of your jeans with a quick flick of his fingers. And his hand was beneath the denim before you’d even had a chance to protest. Deft fingers curled along the cotton fabric of your underwear. Just a whisper of a touch over your clit. You thought about resting your head back on Javi’s shoulder, but just before you could, he bumped his chest against your back to get your attention.

“Look,” he commanded and waited a second to give you time to obey him. Which you did on impulse. Javi had leaned forward, his cheek close to yours, both looking out over the bay window behind the kitchen sink, overlooking the backyard. “Anyone could see us right now,” he whispered and nudged your underwear to the side, giving him just enough space for his fingers to resume their ministrations. You knew what he’d feel; knew that he’d soon become aware that you’d spent the better half of the barbecue uncomfortably shifting your thighs together, trying to ignore the fact that watching him with your kin was making you inexplicably aroused. That watching him play with her and hold her and bond with her was more than any man had done, including her own father. 

“Oh you like that, huh?” There was a low growl to his voice, “you like that we could get caught.”

Sure, you thought. Let’s go with that. That was the least frightening of the options. Because having to admit to Javier that it wasn’t the idea of getting caught, but the idea of him being a dad to your child that was making you wet seemed far too vulnerable for your current position. 

His fingers followed your slit from your clit to your entrance and pressed inside you without hesitation. A slow, lingering gasp left your parted lips and you melted back into Javi’s body, using him as the sole form of support in keeping you upright. His lips met your jawline and you could swear you felt them pull into a smile when your anatomy clenched around his fingers.

You shifted your body down on his fingers, “Javi,”

He grinned wider, a shit-eating one he knew you would’ve slapped off his face had you seen it, “I know, querida.” His fingers thrust in and out of you at an agonizingly slow pace.

You could feel yourself there on the edge having had more than enough time for the anticipation to build throughout the day. Ready to fall in any capacity he would allow you to. Whether that just meant here, in Chucho’s kitchen, muffled by the obscene sounds his fingers were making inside you. Or if it meant being able to say the words that were right there at the tip of your tongue.

“Javi?”

Your eyes flashed open at the sound of Chucho’s voice. Through the kitchen window, you could see he was still out in the yard, not quite at the patio but making his way there. Beginning to strain in Javier’s arms, he moved the hand at your waist and cupped it around your neck.

“Peña,” you tugged at his wrist but it was a fruitless effort.

“Javier?” Chucho called again, stepping into the shade of the patio awning, into full view of the kitchen window.

Javi kept his eyes glued to you. His hand gained a tighter grip around your neck, and his fingers thrust up into you to the last knuckle  “come for me.”

“Javi,” you moaned and hated the way it came out like it did. You wanted to be strong. Be firm and protest. And yet… 

Javier curled his fingers inside you, against the spongy front wall of your wall, “come,” he growled into your ear, lips pressed against the soft skin there.

If there had been an ounce of willpower within you, you would’ve stopped yourself. Pulled yourself together and shook yourself out of his grasp. But there was no willpower. No way to keep yourself afloat. He commanded and you obeyed. Legs shook until your knees gave out and Javi ws forced to release your neck so he could wrap that strong arm around your waist and keep you on your feet. You came over his fingers and felt it drip down the inside of your thighs. And it hadn’t ended the way you would’ve hoped. No moment of calmness to gather yourself back together. No gentle kiss or a good girl. Just Javi pulling his fingers out of you and removing his hand from your pants. He licked one clean and then wiped them dry on the back of his jeans, already making his way back to the door to intercept his dad.

❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖

You ran up the walkway to your front door, keys in hand, keenly aware that Javi was coming up the path behind you, the muñequita cradled in his arms. She had fallen asleep on the drive over but could hear her grumbling behind you, being awoken. By the sound of it, she was less than happy about it, despite Javier trying to soothe her, and you knew you’d have a hell of a time trying to get her back out of the house and to her dad’s before your shift started.

Flying through the front door and leaving it open behind you, you ran down the hallway and into your bedroom to get changed. The jeans from earlier would suffice, and after slipping into the white tank top that made up your “uniform”, you ran back down the hallway. “Javi, can you help her get her shoes back on? The slip-on ones by the door are fine!”

You ran into the kitchen and rummaged through it for something quick and easy she could snack on for when she woke up inevitably starving and throwing a fit. Some string cheese, applesauce, a juice box… and then you ran back toward the front door and came to a skidding halt when you passed by the living room and saw absolutely no progress being made. 

Progress was the furthest thing from happening. To call this progress would’ve been more than generous. What it was, was Javi sat back on the couch, reclined deep in the seat at an almost unnatural position. The muñequita on her side on top of him; cheek squished to his chest, her knees curled up and her feet settling in his lap. She was already back asleep and looked… absolutely peaceful.

“Javi,” you protested, coming into the room and reaching for her.

But Javier lifted his arms and wrapped them around her protectively, shielding her from disruption. 

“I have to go to work,”

“I know, but look… she’s comfortable,” he patted his hand down against her back softly.

“I have to drop her off with her dad,” you reached for her again, and this time Javi shifted his entire body. “Peña, come on, I’m gonna be late.”

And then the words came out of his mouth. He wasn’t sure where they had come from. You didn’t know either. And he wondered if he was crossing a boundary. “I can watch her,” he met your eyes and to both of your surprise, he looked genuine. “She’s had a long day. It’s easier if she stays here.” And then off your movement of putting your hands on your hips and cocking your head to the side, “I’ll make her dinner when she wakes up. Get her ready for bed,”

“Javi,”

“I can take care of her,” he insisted. “Trust me?”

Though you hadn’t been given many reasons to trust men in the past, you did undeniably trust him. You’d come to know that what he told you the day he met you, was true. I’m the best thing that could’ve walked into your daughter’s life. So you rounded to the side of the couch and bent forward. A chaste kiss to the lips while he held your reason for living was proof enough that you trusted him. You knew that there was probably no place in the world she was safer than with DEA Agent, Javier Peña.

As you carried on to The Tack Room, you wondered if you’d ever hear about what went on while you were away. You wondered how Javi would answer you when you asked how it went. You figured he’d downplay it. Say it was fine. Everything went great. That the muñequita was a perfect angel. You doubted you’d ever hear about the minutiae that made up the hours they had together.

You’d never actually hear about how she did indeed wake up with a fury and a hungry stomach. And the way Javi cut up an apple and scooped some peanut butter into a small bowl for her. Or how he rummaged through the cabinets until he came upon a box of Kraft macaroni. You’d never hear about how they sat side by side at the kitchen table, hunched over their own bowls, and devoured the unnaturally orange pasta. He’d never tell you about how he helped her pick out her pajamas and then waited in the hallway outside her door until she got herself changed. How when she called him back, he found that she’d put her shirt on backwards, and how they’d created a game to get her to slip her arms out of the sleeves and spin the top around until it faced the right way without having to take it off. And surely he’d go to the grave about how she batted those pretty please eyelashes at him – the same ones you gave him when you asked him to get the Halloween decorations from the attic – and finagled her way into staying up past her bedtime in order to play Pretty, Pretty Princess. How he let her adorn him with plastic necklaces and rings. And even plastic, clip-on earrings. But of course she won and was the only one to get the bejeweled crown. He’d also never admit how late it was by the time he finally got her to go back to sleep. How he’d kind of bribed her with some chocolate chip cookies, or how he sat on the floor by her bed and patted her back for far longer than was probably necessary before she drifted off to sleep and he was able to tiptoe out of her room. He’d never admit that because it was a little more than an hour before you were unlocking the front door and slipping back inside after your shift.

The TV was on. The news. For some reason, you didn’t think Javier was one to watch the news. His head rested on his fist, feet up on the coffee table. He was awake but his blinks were getting longer and longer. When he finally noticed you in the threshold, he sparked up and lifted his head. Lowered his feet to the ground as if you finding them on the coffee table would make you think he’d made himself too comfortable.

“Querida,” he smiled and stood from the couch, making a quick move toward you.

“The house didn’t burn down,” you mocked lightly and wrapped your arms around him when he came into your space. His lips met yours quickly before trailing down to your jaw and neck. His laugh was muffled by his mouth being pressed to your skin. You lifted one hand up to the back of his head and stroked your fingers through his hair. “How’d it go?”

“Easy,” he lifted his head and smiled, “she’s a good kid.”

You smiled and brought your hand up to his mouth, trailing your index finger over his bottom lip. “I didn’t  thank you before,”

“You don’t need to th–”

Before he could finish, you fully cupped your hand over his mouth to get him to stop speaking. “No I do, because not having to leave her with her dad tonight lifted a tremendous weight off my shoulders.” You removed your palm from his mouth and hooked your arms over his shoulders. “And I love” you noted how Javi’s eyes seemed to widen a bit at the use of the word, “that she feels safe with you.”

“I just–”

You pressed your index finger to his lips again to stop him. “Shh, nope. Just… take that, and…” you took a deep breath in. A new smile spread across your lips, “I’d really like to give you a blowjob now, so we should go do that.”

“Whatever you say, querida.”

❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖

“This mouth,” Javier groaned, staring down at you, knelt over on the mattress while he stood beside the bed. He lowered a hand to your cheek and brushed the backs of his fingers over it. Meanwhile, your mouth was giving a valiant effort at making him come undone. “I love this mouth,”

A hum floated out of your lungs and up past your vocal chords. Lips that had been brought up to the head of his cock, wrapped tightly around the crown, pressed forth once again until your nose brushed against his waist. Judging by the breath that choked in Javi’s throat, you knew he wasn’t lying. His hand migrated from your cheek to the back of your head, where he gathered your hair into a ponytail and held it away for your face. For more of a better view of the thing he knew would be his undoing.

With the leverage of the ponytail, he guided your mouth along his shaft. The power out of your hands, you hollowed your cheeks and closed your eyes, completely focused on the pressure you applied to his member with your lips and tongue. Forced yourself to swallow back the gagging that nearly consumed you when he pushed himself down your throat. And when you re-opened your eyes, blinking back tears, the fondness you found within Javier’s gaze was something new. If your mouth hadn’t been full, maybe you would’ve mentioned something about it to him. Asked him where this new perceived fondness was coming from. It couldn’t have been the blowjob. You’d given him plenty before. And perhaps even more enthusiastic head before. But something about this in this moment warranted a new look from him and you weren’t given the time to ponder it. To try and get to the bottom of it. 

After you noticed the look, Javier was easing your mouth off of him; relishing in the way your lips tried to hold onto him tighter. To keep him in your mouth. But he was stronger, and no sooner than he was freed from your mouth, he bent over and pressed a kiss to your lips. His tongue pushed into your mouth without hesitation. There were things you wanted to voice and bring light to. Things on the tip of your tongue that you thought might be worth throwing caution to the wind. Things you were sure would be met and reciprocated and yet…

“Peña,” you murmured in between kisses and felt his lips tighten into a smile against yours.

He backed away from you, a coy smirk on his face, “what, querida?”

“Do you like me?”

Javier rolled his eyes, affixed his hands to your shoulders and pushed you around until you relented and continued on with his gesture. His tongue darted out over his lips when you’d finished the motion, now finding your ass toward him. “No, I hate you,”

Your jaw dropped and you looked back over your shoulder, but Javi just grinned harder and pressed his hand on your upper back, pushing you down to the bed. “I’m serious, Javi,”

“Me too,” he ran his fingers over your entrance once before placing them on his shaft and notching himself at your core. 

You opened your mouth again to protest but he pressed in, bottoming out in one fell swoop that your protest came in the way of a needy moan. Your fists closed around the bedsheets. His girth stretching you out almost uncomfortably, had it not been for the way he also bent over you. His knees now pressed on the mattress, his chest against your back, and his lips at your ear. Kisses trailed from your earlobe down to your neck and shoulder. Powerful thrusts left you gasping for air.

“Hate that you got me wrapped ‘round your finger,” he mumbled against your skin, teeth nipping at any flesh they could. He pushed himself in rougher, the head of his cock pressing against your cervix. “Hate that you know it,”

“Got’cha,”

Javi quickly pulled out of you and pressed on your hip until you rolled over onto your back. Staring up at him once again, you noticed that look of fondness hadn’t left his face. Whatever he might be saying about the “hate”, it didn’t live in his soul. Hell, it barely even lived in the words. He eased back into you, gentler this time, looking right in your eyes, taking it all in. Wholly focused on the way your jaw fell slack when he pressed into you to the hilt again. He brought his hand to your open mouth and dragged his thumb over your bottom lip. Soon replaced it with his lips for a kiss; slow, passionate, tender. And his hips followed suit. Thrusts much slower but not any less deep or forceful. He kept you connected for as long as possible.

“What the fuck are you doin’ to me?” He whispered.

You let out an airy moan and followed it up with another smirk, “making you come.”

He shook his head. His languid movements now made for the perfect position for his member to rub against your gspot, and his waist where you were connected rubbed against your clit. “What’re you doing to me in here,” he pressed his index finger to his forehead. Your smile faded for something else when he moved that finger down to his chest, “and here.”

You pouted your lips and furrowed your eyebrows, trying not to let that get you too emotional. He’d only half-expressed what you thought he wanted to. What you wanted to. But staring him in the eyes wasn’t doing much for your composure. Wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him forward, you kissed him again and hoped it would get you back in this moment – this sexual moment – without the threat of love dipping off your tongue.

The kisses were endless. Whether it was to your lips, jaw, neck, or chest, Javi didn’t let a moment go by without his lips adorning your skin with some form of attention. And when you both came – one after the another, but you first – you held onto him tightly. Fingernails digging into his shoulder blades and scratching downward. If you couldn’t say the words to make him yours, you’d certainly leave a mark to do so.

“Shit,” Javi grumbled, feeling himself throb inside you.

You smiled to yourself and scritched your fingers through his hair. The stickiness between your legs increased as he pulled out of you and your shared spend dripped out of your core. Once he was completely unsheathed from you, Javi rolled over onto his side and stretched over to reach the nightstand. There was something endearing that he knew the drill: finish the nightly conquest. Document it with a photograph.

The camera was in your hand in the same moment you’d repositioned yourself along the pillows. Comfortably stretching yourself out, you knew there was a finite amount of time until you had to run to the bathroom. But Javi took the drill and altered it. Usually the night ended with both of you trading off, taking pictures of each other. But this time, Javi curled into your side, wrapped his arm over your hips, and buried his face into the crook of your neck. 

“Javi, I have to get up to take it,” you tilted your head toward his in an effort to shrink away from him. But he only held on tighter. His grip around your hips more possessive. A playful nip landed at your jugular.

“Take it like this,”

There it was. The words at the tip of your tongue again. Love. Love. Love. You turned the camera around; lens facing you. For the first time both Javi’s and your face in frame. Together. No chance at hiding identities. Your finger froze at the top of the camera. Perhaps to give him one last chance to change his mind. To come to his senses and tell you to wait… that he’d get up and take a picture of you first. But an interjection didn’t come. He didn’t try to stop you. His thumb rubbed back and forth over your hip bone. His lips stayed planted to your neck. While you faced the camera full frontal, only Javi’s profile was visible. But what a profile it was – the strong, curved nose, the sharp jawline… 

You snapped the picture and freed it from the camera after it printed. Javi took the camera from you again and set it back down on the nightstand before returning to the spot he had previously been in. A soft woosh woosh woosh filled the space between as you shook the photo. Slowly the gray square turned to color and brought forth the image. The first of its kind. Javi turned his head away from your neck in order to look at it. A quick smile passed his lips.

“That’s a pretty picture of you,”

You cringed at the photo and slapped it down on your chest to hide it. “I hate my neck,”

Javi furrowed his eyebrows, “what’re you talking about?” He grabbed your wrist to sneak a glance at the picture again. For the life of him he couldn’t figure out what you were seeing in the photo to make such a comment. “I love your neck,” he leaned back in and bit your neck. This time a little harder than before.

And it made you shriek. A delighted, high pitched thing that nearly made you forget the qualm you’d had with the picture in the first place.

[redcomunitaria]

Pasado

¿Y si me escapo un rato?

Me voy corriendo al pasado

Llego a tu casa

Y cuando golpeo

Eres tú el que abre la puerta

Sonríes

Entro

Vemos una serie, nos besamos, fumamos

Comemos y hacemos el amor

Una, dos y tres veces

¿Y si me escapo al pasado?

Me quedo contigo, me quedo entre tus brazos

No te suelto esta vez

Quédate conmigo en ese pasado

Donde aún nos miramos, aún nos besamos y aún nos amamos.

Derii-

[conoviacat99]

Snufmin versión 60's

Me encanta esta versión de snufmin creo que abre muchas posibilidades, es una lástima que no le gustará a tove aunque se entiende puesto que la serie fue algo agresiva y eso no era algo que ella quería.

Me imaginé un au donde snufkin fuera un recoge deudas en la época japonesa donde aún se utilizaban las katanas y habían barrios rojos muy conocidos, de hecho estoy haciendo un mini cómic de esto, no es nada elaborado solo para darle mejor contexto y sentido a los dibujos hechos (por cierto hay más pero aún no los acabo)

[dettiqueen]

SCHOOL DAY SERIES DAY 6?

im writing this as im starting my last period of the day, its PE and we havent started yet

coach is calling me brb

Ok im writing this and PE is almost over lemme talk abt my day

So my brother got in BIG trouble yesterday and got his car privileges revoked, so looks like leaving early is no longer an option until further notice

its block schedule today so i didnt have english. i had that class that i HATE with the anxiety denying teacher 🤦‍♀️ my mom said that my anxiety history should be in the records or smth but idk.

so i had that class and i didnt have a presentation so i sat there. i had science which wasnt too bad tbh its prob one of my better classes. uhh i flipping had lunch w my brother but he left early 😿 how he got home? i have no clue he doesnt have a car… but idk

. so i was alone all of lunch, i ended up sitting with a girl ive been talking to in my PE class and shes friends w some of my friends at another school. but she was sitting w these girls and one of them who i went to elementary w she js stared at me. (shes rly mean 😞) so that made me feel eugh.

anyways we went to PE and i was too scared to dress out but i ended up changing only my shirt💀 i have shorts but uh i cant exactly wear those, bc. i just cant

today was booty im ngl 😞 i hate everyone except you guyd thanks for reading ily so much

i hope your guys’ days were better<33 again i would love to hear abr it!

heres my totally normal completely usual PE clothes that is def what youre supposed to wear to the gym

[notasfilosoficas]

“La fe es una relación viva con lo creído, una relación viva que abraza la vida entera o, de lo contrario, es irreal”

Martin Buber

Fue un filósofo y escritor judío austriaco israelí, nacido en Viena en febrero de 1878, conocido por su filosofía del diálogo y por sus obras de carácter existencialista.

Nacido en el seno de una familia de eruditos judía, cuando sus padres se divorciaron no tuvo mas remedio que pasar parte de su niñez en casa de sus abuelos en Leópolis la actual Ucrania.

Buber era políglota, pues en su casa se hablaba yiddish y alemán, y en su infancia aprendió el hebreo y francés, y en la escuela secundaria aprendió polaco.

En 1896 Buber se fue a estudiar a la Universidad de Viena iniciando sus estudios en filosofía e historia del arte, mas tarde continuó sus estudios en Leipzig y concluyó su doctorado en Berlín en 1904.

Se unió al movimiento sionista participando en diferentes congresos, entre ellos, el de Basilea en 1897. Fue fundador del uno de los primeros periódicos dedicados en Alemania al pensamiento sionista, dirigiéndolo desde 1916 a 1924.

Desde 1923 hasta 10 años más tarde, enseñó teología judía e historia de las religiones en la Universidad de Frankfurt, ese mismo año publica la que sería su obra mas conocida y la que expresa mejor su pensamiento dialógico “Ich un Du” (Yo y Tú).

En 1933 cuando Adolf Hitler tomó el poder, los estudios teológicos de Buber se vieron bruscamente interrumpidos y fue expulsado de la Universidad, decidiendo emigrar a Palestina, en donde en 1938 fue nombrado profesor de filosofía social en la Universidad hebrea de Jerusalén, en donde impartió cátedra hasta su jubilación en 1951.

En el pensamiento de Martin Buber, influyeron filósofos como Kierkegaard, y el misticismo judío que floreció en Polonia a mediados de siglo XVIII conocido como jasidismo.

En su obra de más éxito (Yo y Tú) Buber plantea su idea de la “filosofía del diálogo”, en la que el autor describe las conexiones que existen entre el Yo-Tú y el Yo-Ello, en donde el Yo-Tú detalla las relaciones entre el hombre y el mundo, describiéndolas como abiertas y de mutuo diálogo, y en la relación Yo-Ello, se manifiesta la necesidad de interactuar con el Yo-Tú, sin que esta sea el objetivo o propósito principal, argumentando que la presencia De Dios, puede encontrarse en la existencia diaria.

Yo y Tu, es el fruto de décadas de preparación y reflexión, y contiene la tesis de Buber sobre el proceso principal de la existencia, o sea, el “relacionarse”, y aunque dicho libro fue reconocido en los círculos filosóficos europeos, fue traducido al inglés hasta el año 1937.

Su estilo de escritura y el mismo texto, no parece en nada a un ensayo filosófico, sino mas bien adopta un estilo poético y lírico como un himno, en donde Buber no trata de exponer sus ideas ni convencer sobre una tesis, sino mas bien refleja su preocupación y nos abre su corazón, que asemeja la obra de Nietzsche, particularmente con su obra “Así habló Zaratustra”.

El libro se configura como una serie de aforismos, grandes y pequeños separados en partes temáticas, sin una lógica concreta y sin una secuencia que pretenda formar una reflexion entera a través de pasos sucesivos.

En la primera parte se ocupa de la condición humana investigando la psicología del individuo. En la segunda trata de la existencia humana en el plano social. Estudia la sociedad y también la manera de existir del individuo dentro de la sociedad, y en la tercera se ocupa de temas de teología, basada en la conclusion de las dos partes anteriores.

Martin Buber muere en Jerusalén Israel en junio de 1965 a la edad de 87 años.

Fuentes: Wikipedia, Universidad de Valencia (uv.es), biografiasyvidas.com, hermesinstitut.org

[himevampirechan]

Vanishipping fanfic: Duat. Capitulo 1

Hola. ¡Es maravilloso poder tomarme mi tiempo para publicar en Tmblr!

La vida sigue avanzando y, sinceramente, me viene arrastrando como a un trapo viejo; debido a eso he decidido que, por el bien de mi estado de ánimo, debo forzarme a luchar contra mi bloqueo de escritor. Me hizo feliz recibir reacciones en el "prologo" de este fanfiction, aunque lento es una de las historias que mas me emociona seguir escribiendo y, por ello, les agradezco profundamente.

Antes de continuar con el primer capitulo, quisiera resaltar que esta historia está ambientada, después del final de la serie; incluso ocurre DESPUES de los eventos de la película: "Yu-Gi-Oh: El lado oscuro de las dimensiones".

Atem NO está en el pasado, ni Anzu ha viajado en el tiempo; Atem está en lo que, para los egipcios, existe al final de la vida. Entiendo que puede ser algo confuso pero, conforme avanza la historia, se explica mejor; ¡No olviden revisar las notas al final de cada capitulo!

IMPORTANTE: El día de mañana, subiré la versión en Inglés de este capitulo; del mismo modo, planeo subir a lo largo de esta semana el capitulo 3 de mi otro fanfic REVO: "Trabajo de medio tiempo."

¡Disfruten!

Capítulo 1

El amanecer sorprende a Atem afuera de la habitación donde los hekas y nuns revisan a Anzu. Entre dar indicaciones a los guardias y ser interrogado por miembros aislados de su consejo de sacerdotes, el joven faraón se ha negado a abandonar el lugar.

Horas antes y tras descubrir la identidad de la joven, el faraón salió del templo luchando con la histeria. Después de llamar a su caballo con un silbido y cubrir la desnudez de la muchacha con la sabana de montar, había regresado velozmente al palacio en busca de ayuda.

“En cuanto entré al palacio –piensa mirando desde su posición el movimiento de los sirvientes que salen y entran al cuarto–, Siamun e Isis la trajeron a esta habitación”.

La habían sacado de entre sus brazos, y la idea de alejarse de ella había dolido tanto que Mana tuvo que retenerlo de tirar la puerta a golpes por la angustia. Repentinamente agotado, Atem se sienta en el suelo con la espalda contra la pared, escondiendo su rostro tras los puños apretados.

Llevo toda la noche esperando y no sé… –susurra mirando fijamente la puerta como si con ello pudiera saber qué ocurre dentro–. No sé si se encuentra bien.

El sonido de pasos saca al joven de sus pensamientos, poniéndose de pie mira a varias personas salir, una tras otra de la recamara. En sus brazos cargan jarrones, botellas, vendas de lino y sabanas; su ansioso corazón da un brinco al notar que algunas están teñidas con algo parecido a la sangre.

Da dos pasos apresurados hacía la puerta cuando Isis y Siamun están a la vista. Atem se detiene firme sobre sus pies, mirándolos con miles de preguntas en sus ojos carmesí; el anciano le toma de los antebrazos en un gesto paternal.

–Ella está bien, mi faraón –le dice intentando calmar la ansiedad del joven, las palabras del anciano quitan un peso invisible de sus hombros–. No parece herida de gravedad, la han revisado y está dormida.

–Gracias –susurra.

Siamun sonríe por su gesto, cariñosamente golpea la mejilla del muchacho con la palma de la mano. Después de unos segundos los ojos del faraón brillan decididos, se endereza y da dos pasos hacía la habitación; nadie nota la sonrisa en el rostro de Isis quien, dando un paso de lado, se interpone entre la puerta y el muchacho.

–No puede entrar faraón –le dice la morena, con un rostro serio y su mirada penetrante clavada en él. Atem la observa sorprendido.

–¿Por qué? –pregunta el joven, sus ojos se deslizan confundidos de la sacerdotisa a Siamun. El anciano niega lentamente con la cabeza en un gesto resignado, percibiendo una creciente irritación en el gobernante.

–La señorita necesita descansar –le responde la sacerdotisa con una sonrisa comprensiva en su rostro. Atem abre la boca para reclamar, pero el anciano vuelve a golpear paternalmente su hombro.

–Ha sido una noche larga e intensa para todos, mi faraón –dice una vez que Atem lo mira–. Lo mejor sería que, tanto usted como su amiga, recuperen fuerzas. Además, creo que usted necesita ir a la sala del trono y aclarar la situación con los miembros del consejo real; sobre todo si sus planes involucran que la muchacha se quede como huésped dentro del palacio.

Atem frunce el ceño analizando las palabras del anciano, tras unos segundos baja el rostro con gesto resignado sabiendo que, incluso su preocupación, queda relevada por su obligación como el faraón de Kemet.

“Aún no sabemos qué fue lo que realmente ocurrió en el templo de Osiris. Y Anzu, quien es la única que posiblemente lo sepa, necesita descansar”, reflexiona Atem, sabiendo que no puede darse el lujo de arriesgar la recuperación de Anzu al mostrar al consejo una mala selección de prioridades.

Isis y Siamun le observan fijamente mientras piensa, no pueden evitar sentir una punzada de orgullo cuando lo ven erguirse decisivo y fuerte como el gobernante que es; Atem les devuelve la mirada, con los ojos escarlata llenos de confianza.

–Siamun: Reúnete con Seto, verifica que saru estén completos en el salón del trono, incluyendo mi padre. Necesito su presencia durante la reunión. –El anciano sonríe y hace una reverencia antes de marcharse a cumplir con la orden–. Isis –continúa el muchacho con una expresión más seria–. Considerando la naturaleza de la situación, debemos ser discretos y movernos con cuidado: Necesito que uses el collar del milenio y que tú, junto con Mahado, se encarguen de doblar la seguridad dentro y fuera del palacio, mientras no descifremos lo que ocurrió esta noche. –Después de eso, manda a alguien en busca de Mana: Necesito que ella cuide a mi huésped durante el tiempo que tarde la reunión.

Se observan fijamente por unos segundos, una ligera sonrisa se dibuja en el rostro de la mujer, Atem le devuelve el gesto con confianza. Con un asentimiento de cabeza, la sacerdotisa hace una reverencia y camina por el pasillo.

–Te veré en el salón del trono –susurra Atem mirándola alejarse, incapaz de percibir la mirada picara que tiene la mujer y el brillo repentino del collar del milenio.

Pasan unos segundos antes de que Atem note que se ha quedado a solas en el lugar; decidido comienza a caminar con dirección al salón del trono, pero una sensación angustiante le llena el estómago. Observa sobre su hombro la entrada a la habitación donde se encuentra Anzu.

“No es una ilusión –piensa firmemente intentando convencerse–. No es un sueño”.

El deseo de verla se vuelve insoportable, cerrando los ojos recuerda la calidez de su piel, el tacto de su sedoso cabello, su olor. Anzu está ahí, a unos pasos de distancia y por unos segundos el joven gobernante barajea la posibilidad de entrar al cuarto. Como un flechazo doloroso, el recuerdo de la sonrisa maniática de Bakura, pasa por su mente.

“Ella está a salvo”, niega con la cabeza, confiando en las palabras de Siamun e Isis. Bakura ya no está y la aparición de su amiga del futuro debe tener una explicación lógica; es algo que necesitan descubrir, pero para ello debe ser capaz de mantener a la chica segura en el palacio. Anzu necesita descansar, recuperar fuerza y él debe prepararse para liderar la reunión con el consejo.

Atem mira una última vez la puerta de la habitación por sobre su hombro, respirando profundo comienza a caminar por el pasillo.

“Espera un poco más, Anzu –piensa apretando entre su mano derecha la cadena que cuelga al rompecabezas del milenio en su cuello–. Yo te voy a cuidar”.

(…)

–…Testigos mencionan que la luz cayó directamente sobre el Templo de Osiris; sin embargo, no hemos encontrado ningún tipo de daño en la edificación, ni personas heridas en el pueblo. Los Hem netcher o los Sem no percibieron nada extraño antes de que ocurriera y solamente entendieron que estaba pasando algo cuando vieron llegar al faraón Atem al santuario.

Miradas y susurros se intercambian entre los integrantes del consejo. Atem, sentado desde su trono, escucha atentamente con expresión seria.

“Esto es extraño –piensa, mirando cómo intercambian preguntas y gestos los miembros del consejo–. Shada ha mencionado que los oradores estaban dentro del templo, pero yo no vi a nadie en el lugar”.

–¿Hubo algún daño, no relacionado al evento, en la ciudad? –pregunta su padre en un intento de disminuir la inquietud del cuarto–. ¿Saqueos, heridos?

–No los hubo, Su Majestad –responde el hombre encargado de notificar las medidas que se tomaron durante la madrugada–. Sin considerar la confusión podemos asegurar que los pobladores de Kemet están a salvo.

Vuelven a escucharse susurros entre las personas presentes. Mahado mira disimuladamente a Atem, quien le devuelve el gesto asintiendo con la cabeza.

–Puede retirarse –indica el sacerdote con un movimiento de su mano; el capitán militar asiente y dando tres pasos hacia atrás se encamina a la salida.

“A pesar de su intensidad, aquel resplandor resultó inofensivo. –Inmerso en sus pensamientos Atem ignora las miradas sobre él–. ¿Cuál era su función? ¿De dónde vino?”.

Las puertas se cierran, sacando a Atem de sus pensamientos. El consejo le observa atentamente y él, puede sentir la tensión en el cuerpo de su padre; se puede asegurar que la mayoría de las personas en la sala del trono están tan confundidas como él.

–Sacerdotisa Isis –llama Atem después de unos segundos, sobresaltando a los presentes. La mencionada da un paso arrodillándose frente al trono–. ¿Tu artículo del milenio te alertó, previamente, de la situación que estamos viviendo?

–No, mi faraón –responde la joven con la mirada fija en el suelo. Murmullos sorprendidos se levantan en la habitación.

–Sacerdote Seto –continúa, observando a su primo imitar la posición de la morena–. Misma pregunta.

–No, mi faraón –responde el castaño pegando a su pecho el cetro dorado. Esto parece sorprender aún más a los integrantes del consejo. La pregunta se realiza también a Karim y Siamun, la negativa es absoluta; Nuevos susurros llenan la sala.

Atem les observa fijamente en silencio e intercambia una mirada con su padre quien asiente con la cabeza, en un gesto que denota confianza. El joven gobernante toma aire antes de ponerse de pie para hablar.

–Es obvio que no tenemos toda la información que necesitamos sobre lo ocurrido esta noche –declara con seguridad, los miembros del consejo le observan con atención–. Sin embargo, que los artículos del milenio no mostraran alguna alteración es prueba clara de que el reino no está en peligro. Aun así, debemos seguir buscando pruebas. En caso de que otro suceso inesperado ocurra. –Su profunda y rica voz resuena en el silencio con autoridad–. ¡Shada!

–¿Sí, mi faraón? –responde el sacerdote arrodillándose frente a él.

–Moviliza más soldados para incrementar la seguridad dentro de la ciudad; sé discreto por favor, no queremos generar pánico entre la gente.

–Sí, mi faraón –exclama Shada antes de salir rápidamente de la habitación seguido de los líderes militares principales.

“Eso mantendrá a los civiles seguros, pero no descarta algún peligro interno”, piensa Atem con gesto severo. Al levantar su mirada se encuentra con el penetrante escrutinio del portador del ojo milenario–. ¡Ankhnadin! –continúa Atem confiando en que su tío conoce sus preocupaciones.

–¿Sí, mi faraón? –El anciano toma varios pasos hacia adelante sin arrodillarse. El muchacho no toma su gesto en cuenta, ha quedado en el pasado la traición por el hombre mayor.

–Necesito que Karim, Mahado y tú, revisen los otros templos cercanos a la zona donde cayó la luz. Debemos descartar algún otro suceso durante la noche.

Varias voces susurran en el cuarto, Atem puede percibir sus dudas con una decisión que parece innecesaria.

Los tres sacerdotes comienzan a moverse cuando una idea se le ocurre al faraón.

–¡Una cosa más! –exclama, los sacerdotes se detienen para escuchar el resto de la orden. Una sonrisa oscura y llena de autoridad se dibuja en la boca Atem, sorprendiendo a algunos de los presentes–. Interroga nuevamente a los oradores de Osiris. –Se escuchan algunos jadeos sorprendidos–. Lo dejo en tus manos Ankhnadin.

Una tensión aterradora inunda el salón del trono, llenando con escalofríos a los miembros del consejo; Atem ve, de reojo, la sonrisa aprobatoria de su padre. El mensaje ha sido enviado y es claro: Interrógalos, ve dentro de sus mentes y verifica que no mientan. Si mienten, deben ser traídos ante mi.

–Sí, mi faraón –responde el portador del ojo milenario con compresión y una sonrisa satisfecha. Los tres sacerdotes vuelven y se dirigen a la salida.

Mahado observa al joven faraón de reojo mientras se aleja, la fría expresión de Atem se convierte en una mirada suplicante; el mago asiente. Tantos años de amistad le han dado a Mahado las herramientas para conocer sus preocupaciones perfectamente.

Se marcha sabiendo que, su amigo de la infancia y gobernante, esperará confiado a que, a su regreso, los sacerdotes traerán consigo las respuestas que necesitan.

Al cerrarse la puerta ninguna persona se atreve a hablar. Ignorantes a las dudas y preocupaciones del joven faraón, los presentes se preguntan si los cambios suscitados esa noche son la señal de un cambio en el balance del Maat, y de qué forma puede afectarles las órdenes tomadas por el soberano.

–El resto de nosotros… –continua Atem tras unos segundos–, esperaremos.

Expresiones de sorpresa inundan la sala, Atem cuadra los hombros y observa a los presentes en un gesto que no permite paso a dudas.

–Me niego a tomar acciones sin tener alguna clave de lo que está ocurriendo. ¡No pondré a mi reino en riesgo mientras no vea por completo el tablero de juego! –Se escuchan susurros en la habitación. La mayoría proveniente de las partes más débiles del consejo: nobles, escribas, sacerdotes e hijos de militares que, inclusive en el más allá, no dejan de cuestionar su autoridad.

–Faraón –Se atreve a hablar uno, Atem le observa teniendo un mal presentimiento a su voz conciliadora–. Quizás si la forzamos a hablar, la mujer del templo…

Atem lo interrumpe al ponerse de pie y golpear su puño fuertemente contra el trono, el sonido metálico de sus anillos al impacto obliga a los presentes a guardar silencio. El noble se encoge ante la mirada furibunda del joven gobernante.

–¡LA SEGURIDAD DE KEMMET ES NUESTRA PRIORIDAD! –exclama con una voz, tan llena de enojo, que su sonido retumba en las paredes–. No tomare más medidas hasta que la ciudad y los pobladores estén seguros. ¡ESA ES MI ORDEN!

Sintiendo la tensión opresiva de la habitación, Atem se sienta nuevamente con ambos brazos firmemente colocados a sus lados y una pierna cruzada sobre la otra; un gesto distintivo que lo hace exudar autoridad, elegancia y confianza, sin embargo, su rostro inexpresivo, hace que varios presentes sientan la necesidad de salir corriendo.

–Sí, Su Alteza –susurra el noble, agachando la cabeza. Tras unos segundos Atem observa de reojo a Siamun haciendo un gesto con la cabeza. El visir asiente ligeramente.

–Retírense –ordena el anciano como es costumbre. En silencio las personas comienzan a marcharse, algunos susurran entre ellos y observan con interés la mirada lejana y ensombrecida del joven gobernante.

Pronto la sala del trono ha quedado vacía. Atem deja caer la cabeza, masajeando con cansancio el puente de su nariz.

–Buen trabajo, hijo mío –susurra Aknamkanon acercándose al joven gobernante, Atem levanta la cabeza hacía atrás con el rostro desencajado en preocupación.

–Te lo agradezco padre –susurra frunciendo el ceño–. Pero tampoco tenemos otra opción en este momento.

En la habitación solo permanecen los dos gobernantes, el sacerdote Siamun y Seto. Atem cierra los ojos, mareado, respirando irregularmente.

–Faraón ¿Se encuentra bien? -pregunta Siamun en voz baja, mirándole con paternal preocupación.

–Hai, Daijoubu Oji chan –susurra con voz temblorosa sin mirar al anciano; al darse cuenta de su error, Atem siente cómo su pecho se aprieta lleno de una emoción que lo hace querer esconder el rostro–. ¡ESTOY BIEN! –corrige avergonzado–. De verdad, SIAMUN, no ocurre nada.

El anciano lo observa con un perfil confundido ante sus extrañas palabras. Atem desvía la mirada de los demás, mordiendo su labio en una clara muestra de estrés; una voz en el fondo de su cabeza le recuerda que Anzu está a unas habitaciones de distancia y que debería ir a verla antes de que la muchacha despierte, sola y confundida en ese lugar desconocido.

–Faraón Atem –le llama una voz cortante. Atem sale de sus pensamientos con un sobresalto, vuelve el rostro y observa a su primo quien le fulmina con sus fríos irises azules.

–¿Qué ocurre Seto? –responde, observando al castaño con una ceja levantada, consciente del significado tácito de su mirada penetrante: ¡Seto quiere respuestas, y las quiere inmediatamente!

El sacerdote sisea molesto con la mandíbula tensa.

–Creo que es momento de que nos hable de su huésped y la relación que tiene con lo que está ocurriendo –exclama fríamente, dando dos pasos amenazadores hacía el tricolor.

–¡SETO! –reclama Siamun, escandalizado por el poco tacto que el sacerdote muestra ante su rey; sin embargo, ambos jóvenes le ignoran y se observan en una discusión larga y silenciosa.

No es un secreto que, el consejo considera, interesante la manía de ambos muchachos para retarse en duelos de voluntad; Siempre dispuestos a empujar al otro hasta los límites de su raciocinio.

Siendo ambos jóvenes y talentosos parecen fortalecerse positivamente utilizando su rivalidad nata. Sin embargo, son contadas las ocasiones donde hay verdadera molestia durante estas interacciones y la repentina agresividad de Seto parece demostrar que no coincide completamente con las decisiones tomadas por el joven faraón.

“Es la segunda vez que observo esa expresión en su cara –piensa Atem–. La primera vez fue poco antes de sellar mi alma dentro del rompecabezas del milenio.”

Atem suspira, apartando la mirada con resignación y perdiendo en su batalla con el castaño.

–Tienes razón, Seto. Les contaré todo, sin embargo, hay una persona a quien que debo visitar antes.

El joven faraón levanta la mirada hasta toparse con el rostro serio de su padre, quien le mira consciente de que su hijo necesita hablar a solas con él.

–Siamun –dice Aknamkanon sin dejar de mirar a su hijo–. Infórmanos cuando los sacerdotes regresen de sus misiones, nos veremos en la sala de estrategias cuando eso ocurra.

–Sí, su Majestad –carraspea el anciano, haciendo una reverencia y saliendo de la habitación con paso apresurado. No puede evitar observar por sobre su hombro a los tres hombres que quedan en la habitación.

–Seto –llama Atem, levantándose del trono. El castaño, aun con expresión seria, da un paso en su dirección–. Envía a uno de tus sirvientes por mi madre, necesito que ella esté presente en la sala de estrategias, cuando todos regresen.

Después de unos segundos de sorprendido silencio, el castaño asiente ante la orden del joven gobernante; con una sonrisa resignada Atem coloca una mano sobre el hombro del castaño.

–Confío en que encontrarás a quien la mantenga segura, en su camino a la sala de estrategias –susurra el faraón, observándole con expresión profunda y amable. Sin desviar la mirada Seto descifra algunas de las emociones que su primo intenta ocultar: Confusión, angustia y miedo.

–Sí, mi faraón –responde devolviéndole con seguridad la mirada, su gesto parece tranquilizar al tricolor; tras hacer una reverencia, el castaño se encamina fuera de la habitación.

Los gobernantes, padre e hijo, lo ven marcharse sin intercambiar palabras. Una vez solos, Atem puede sentir como su padre clava una mirada curiosa sobre él; por un instante se vuelve a sentir como un niño pequeño que ha sido descubierto jugando donde no debería.

El sol se ha levantado por el cielo en una brillante mañana, la luz dentro del salón se refleja en las paredes deslumbrando los desvelados ojos del muchacho. Un joven adulto que se niega a mirar a su padre.

–Tu madre no es parte del consejo, dejarla formar parte de una reunión en la sala de estrategias va contra las tradiciones. Eso lo sabes, hijo mío –reprocha calmadamente Aknamkanon, observando el rostro serio de su hijo que finalmente le regresa la mirada; los ojos carmesíes, tan parecidos a los de su esposa, parecen mirar al vació con profunda preocupación.

–Lo sé –susurra el muchacho, apretando en su puño el rompecabezas del milenio que cuelga de su cuello–, pero creo que, al igual que nosotros, quizás ella y Mana sean una parte importante de lo que está ocurriendo.

El pecho de Aknamkanon se hunde con pesimismo ¡Ah! Entonces su hijo sí está escondiendo cosas y parece tener sospechas sobre la llegada de la muchacha del templo. ¿Qué puede estar ocurriendo dentro de la cabeza del joven faraón para tener semejante preocupación en la mirada?

Aknamkanon jamás ha visto tal desolación en el rostro de su hijo. Desde su llegada a los campos de Ialú, Atem había disfrutado de un tiempo lleno de paz y complacencia; como si, tras milenios de oscuridad y soledad intentara recuperar el tiempo perdido en la tierra que lo había visto nacer.

El reencuentro entre él y su madre había sido tan emotivo que la mayoría de los habitantes del palacio no habían logrado ocultar sus lágrimas. A todos les había provocado una gran impresión la llegada de Atem; el hombre serio, pero amable que había ingresado al concluir su maaty había llenado de orgullo y admiración a quienes lo esperaban pacientemente.

Tras las reconciliaciones el carácter del joven había salido a la superficie y con el pasar el tiempo se había vuelto recurrente encontrarlo en el jardín, dormitando pacíficamente bajo la sombra de los papiros, a salvo y como si nada más importara en el mundo.

Rara vez hablaba de su experiencia en el mundo de los vivos, pero cuando lo hacía mostraba tanta nostalgia que, por la noche, se habían acostumbrado a verlo sentado a orillas del rio, hablándole en voz baja a las estrellas; susurrándoles cosas que solo él podía recordar.

Sintiendo una pizca de tristeza, Aknamkanon toma al muchacho con ambas manos por los hombros, inclinándose para observar directamente su rostro.

–Hijo mío, ¿Qué piensas? –pregunta con genuino interés el faraón más viejo. Bajo el peso de sus manos su hijo se siente pequeño, sin embargo, cuando Atem levanta el rostro tiene la fría y decidida mirada de un gobernante que ha luchado en la guerra la mayor parte de su vida.

–Una parte de mi sospecha que los artículos del milenio están relacionados con lo que ocurrió está noche –responde mirándole fijamente. La repentina sorpresa que Aknamkanon siente ante sus palabras cambia rápidamente a analizar de la situación.

–¿Y tu huésped? –cuestiona nuevamente con paciencia–. ¿Su llegada también está relacionada a los artículos del milenio?

–Aún no lo sé, pero temo que se relacione al duelo definitivo –agrega Atem, asintiendo a la curiosidad y comprensión en el rostro de su padre. El hombre nota que el cuerpo de su hijo tiembla inconscientemente, con profunda sorpresa Aknamkanon observa cómo el joven, al hundirse en sus pensamientos, parece convertirse en una versión oscura de sí mismo.

–No permitiré que le hagan daño a Anzu –susurra Atem con la mandíbula apretada, mirando a un punto lejano de la habitación con los ojos profundos y llenos de rencor–. Destruiré a cualquiera que intente lastimarla.

Abrumado por su esencia oscura, Aknamkanon suelta los hombros del muchacho forzándolo a salir de sus pensamientos con un pestañeo; Atem le observa confundido por unos segundos, un escalofrió recorre al hombre mayor al percatarse que su hijo no fue consciente de sus palabras.

–¿Por qué alguien querría lastimarla? –pregunta, intentando comprender las emociones en su hijo. La respiración del muchacho se entrecorta y, en silencio, desvía la mirada, intentando encontrar las mejores palabras para explicar la situación.

Aknamkanon le mira en tensión, mientras Atem medita; tras unos segundos el joven faraón levanta su rostro iluminado con una diminuta sonrisa torcida.

–Porque estoy enamorado de ella –confiesa en voz baja.

NOTAS SOBRE EL CAPITULO

Kemmet: Nombre de Egipto para los egipcios faraónicos.

Heka: Hechiceros.

Sunu: Médicos.

Saru: Consejo local de nobles

Hem netcher: Profetas.

Sem: Sacerdotes que actuaban en las ceremonias de ritos de resurrección.

Maaty: Termino para el justificado en el juicio del Maat al morir.

Campos de Ialú: paraíso egipcio.

Mut-nisut: Madre del rey.

(...)

[hallosoynatalia]

Imagen: creada con IA

Escribiendo mi diario de aventuras, soy del tipo: “fue la primera vez que…”, “nunca había visto o sentido…”, y es increíblemente genial. 🥰 He decidido compartir mis experiencias y espero seguir creciendo en este proceso. Estoy muy entusiasmada por este proyecto, que reúne una serie de vivencias recorriendo ciudades y pueblos de diferentes países, desde Colombia hasta Noruega e incluso Filipinas. Un sueño cumplido, que se prolonga en el tiempo. 🇨🇴🇪🇸🇳🇴🇹🇷🇮🇹🇻🇦🇬🇮🇸🇬🇵🇭🇻🇳…

He conocido nuevas personas, idiomas y culturas, y, sobre todo, me he autodescubierto en el viaje. Ahora siento un impulso por animar a otros a que valoren más su tiempo y disfruten su vida. Mi historia no ha sido fácil, ya lo contaré. Sin embargo, cada etapa me ha permitido construirme con conciencia y, por tanto, valorar cada momento.

Ahora debo irme, pero antes, aquí dejo un consejo que nadie me pidió: abre tu mente a lo que no conoces, experimenta y arriesga. No te limites a una perspectiva, ni tengas miedo a fallar intentándolo.

[naritaren]

Sorry for missing last week. Things have been busy, but I'm back with some fic recs! There will be one non-wrestling fic, but even if you don't know hockey, it's probably one of the best fics I've ever read ever. Please check it out if you can!

My Sun, My Moon, and All My Scars by ihopeyousuffer Rating: Explicit Pairing: El Desperado/Hiromu Takahashi Words: 101,874 Abre Los Ojos by pretzelduck Rating: Teen Pairing: Tetsuya Naito/Jay White Words: 82,530 (Series) The Takeover are #Soulmates by F00T Rating: Explicit Pairing: KENTA/Katsuyori Shibata Words: 40,723 (9 total fics) No time for serenades by hard-luck-hero Rating: Mature Pairing: El Desperado/Hiromu Takahashi (plus others listed) Words: 23,708 Robbie Eagles is Fine by Seventysixtyniner Rating: Mature Pairing: Robbie Eagles/El Phantasmo Words: 17,103 The Not-Very-Thrilling Life of Succulents by sheesunat (hockey rpf) Rating: Explicit Pairing: Morgan Rielly/Brock Boeser Words: 66,092 Happy reading everyone! I went with all longer fics this time!

[blindingdreams]

¡𝘽𝙞𝙚𝙣𝙫𝙚𝙣𝙞𝙙𝙤𝙨 𝙖 𝙡𝙖 99

!Esta es una búsqueda de personajes basada en nuestra queridísima serie, Brooklyn Nine-Nine. ¿Te gustaría unirte a un equipo de detectives excéntricos, carismáticos y altamente competentes (en su mayoría) que resuelven casos en la agitada ciudad de San Francisco? ¡La 

Comisaría 99 está reclutando detectives para sus filas!

— 🔹 Holt. Capitán y líder de la comisaría, serio y disciplinado. Tiene un sentido del humor seco e inesperado y aunque inicialmente puede parecer distante, tiene un gran corazón y se preocupa profundamente por su equipo.

— 🔹 Jeffords. Sargento de la comisaría. Este personaje podría intimidar a cualquiera, pero debajo de su apariencia dura se encuentra una persona sensible y bastante comprensiva con sus detectives. Suele pasar la mano en según qué situaciones y mantiene a la comisaría unida, es la columna vertebral de la misma.

— 🔹 Peralta. Este detective es uno de los mejores en resolver casos, pero es más infantil que un patio de recreo y su poca seriedad lo meten en problemas constantemente. El payaso de la comisaría, para resumir. Especialmente competitivo con Santiago. 

— 🔹 Santiago. Perfeccionista, dedicada y con una obsesión por ser la mejor en todo lo que hace, por picarse se pica hasta con las plantas artificiales. Aunque a veces puede ser un poco intensa, su eficiencia y capacidad para resolver problemas son invaluables.

— 🔹 Díaz. A esta detective la rodea un aire de misterio (a posta, la tía no suelta prenda cuando se trata de su vida personal) y tiene una actitud distante, no se abre fácilmente a los demás. Es seca y sarcástica, pero a menudo sorprende a los demás con sus habilidades ocultas (no preguntes cuáles son). 

— 🔹 Boyle. Aunque no es el diamante más brillante del grupo y a menudo se mete en situaciones absurdas (casi siempre por culpa de Peralta), es increíblemente leal a sus compañeros y siempre está dispuesto a ayudar, incluso si sus esfuerzos no siempre salen como planeado. Payaso número dos. 

— 🔹Linetti. Genia informática y maestra de los papeles, es la clave para la logística y la investigación en la comisaría. Aunque no sale mucho al campo, su conocimiento y habilidades tecnológicas son esenciales para resolver casos. Una tía lista y muy chula, posible payasa número tres. 

❗𝑰𝑴𝑷𝑶𝑹𝑻𝑨𝑵𝑻𝑬:

▪️ Cualquier personaje puede ser H/M, independientemente de cómo me haya referido a ellos en las descripciones. 

▪️ Aunque la búsqueda esté basada en los personajes de esta serie, todo es bastante libre y modificable, y por supuesto no tienen que llevar esos apellidos, son simples referencias. 

▪️ Los interesados pueden contactarme a través de discord: theotherboleyngirl

▪️ La comisaría 99 no sólo busca a estos personajes, cualquier persona interesada en entrar, es más que bienvenida (detectives, novatos, personal de administración, etc…). 

[menzapping]

Del Missisippi 🇺🇸 a Benalmádena 🇪🇸: la historia del USS Willow

——————

Paseando por #PuertoMarina se divisa una enorme mole semihundida al fondo, es el barco ‘Willow’.

.

La historia del Willow -el barco que se hunde en Benalmádena, Málaga- se remonta al año 1924, cuando el Servicio de Faros de los Estados Unidos encargó la construcción de un vapor de palas para la tareas de señalización del río Misisipi. El contrato de la construcción de este faro flotante lo ganaba la compañía Dubuque Boat and Boiler Works que, por un precio de 372.000 dólares, fabricó un buque en los astilleros de San Louis de 60 metros de eslora, 19,5 de manga y 2,7 metros de calado. Tras someterse a una serie de pruebas, este barco bautizado como Willow navegó a Nueva Orleans donde el 4 de octubre de 1927 entraba en servicio. Fue también cárcel de prisioneros alemanes residentes en EEUU y en en el año 1962, el buque fue vendido a un empresario para ser usado como hotel y restaurante flotante.

.

En 1989 el Willow cruza el atlántico a bordo de un buque semi sumergible que lo llevó a Southampton

.

En 1996 viaja a Benalmádena finalmente donde funciona como bar y restaurante flotante durante dos años. Cuando deja de tener actividad el barco queda amarrado en este puerto y queda abandonado tras numerosos litigios entre las administraciones y la sociedad propietaria del barco.

.

Finalmente según he leído a partir de un gran temporal en 2019 de le abre una vía de agua y empieza a hundirse.

[anishfics]

Corto

La noche anterior había sido un completó caos, la fiesta de cumpleaños de Mason sin duda pasaría a la historia de las fiestas, lo único es que no sé acordaba de nada por todo el alcohol con aconito que había en la bebida de los sobrenaturales para que así se pusieran en ambiente.

Se despertó, gracias al sueño y al mareó por el alcohol ni siquiera se dió cuenta que no estaba en su casa, salió de la habitación y fue directo al baño que estaba justo en frente. Abrió la llave del lavamanos y se tiró un poco de agua en la cara para así despertar.

—Que noche la de ayer —se dijo así mismo riendo.

Cerró la pluma y justo cuando se vió en el espejo quedó paralizado... Una gran marca de dientes justo en la unión de su cuello y hombros.

—Pero qu...

No logró terminar, ya que sintió unos brazos que lo atrajeron a un cuerpo marcado y caliente, además de sentir una serie de besos justo en donde se encontraba la marca de apareamiento. Estaba tan sensible de esa zona que tenía sus ojos cerrados y no sabía quién era la persona tras suyo.

—Buenos días, mi amor —Esa voz la reconocería en donde fuera.

—¿The...Theo? —se giro y vió aquel castaño frente suyo con una amplía sonrisa en su rostro.

—Anoche la pasamos de maravilla.

Theo no tenía puesto nada y Liam ya podía sentir algo que había crecido frotándose en su abdomen, poniéndolo caliente.

La Quimera no desperdicio tiempo y atacó los labios del pequeño Beta de la manada y como este se dejaba hacer sumiso por él.

Los giró para apoyarse en el lavamanos mientras que Liam bajará para que comenzará a usar esa boquita en su amigo.

Liam no sabía la razón de hacerlo, pero lo único en su cabeza era complacer a su ahora pareja, las secciones al principio eran lentas para luego ir tomando más velocidad, provocando que la Quimera gruñera por el placer que estaba sintiendo, apartó a Liam y lo tomó del rostro.

—Abre esa boquita, mi amor —era prácticamente una orden y Liam obedeció.

Apenas abrió una lluvia de leche terminó en su boca y unas cuentas gotas terminaron en su cara, Theo lo levantó tan fácilmente para luego unir sus bocas en un salvaje y demandante beso probándose en el proceso.

—Theo —Liam gimió entre beso y el nombrado lo cargo.

—Vamos a la cama, vamos —decía perdido del deseó que mucho tiempo se le había negado—. Aún no hemos terminado.

Con eso Liam lo tomó del rostro y empezó él el beso siendo llevado por un torpe Theo a la habitación a continuar con su muestra de amor.

[guardianasdelrpg]

Ya ha pasado poco más de 3 meses desde que abrí mi primera búsqueda aquí. Así que creo que va siendo hora de renovar un poco (?)

Se abre una búsqueda para encontrar compañeros de rol con los que organizar tramas e historias a través de Discord. Dichos roles estarían enfocados principalmente en erp de HxF, +18 o lemon que era como se conocía antaño.

•Idealmente se buscan personas capaces de interpretar tanto personajes femeninos como masculinos, aunque con buena comunicación todo es negociable.

•Aunque el erp sea el núcleo principal, se le dará prioridad al worldbuilding o construcción de mundos. Por lo que se busca a alguien a quien le guste escribir y desarrollar con la imaginación.

•La ambientación puede ser algo creado en un mundo de fantasía, uno más apegado a la realidad o directamente basado en el universo de alguna serie o juego listado a continuación (entre otros tantos que pueden ser propuestos): -Genshin Impact -Honkai Star Rail -Fate/Grand Order -Reverse: 1999 -Pokémon -Mushoku Tensei -One Piece -Tensei Shitara no Slime -Bleach, etc…

•Uso de físicos 2D estilo manga/anime

•Tanto OC x OC, como OC x CC y CC x CC son bienvenidos.

•No ghosting, por favor. Respeto y comunicación por encima de todo. x)

Y creo que eso sería todo. Mis mensajes privados están más que abiertos para charlar, consultar dudas y ponernos de acuerdo en algo.

¡Un saludo y que pasen un buen día independientemente de cuándo lean esto!

Suerteee <3

✶✯╰☆╮ ︻╦̵̵͇̿̿̿̿╤── ☠ ~ JINX ~ ☠