#and our depth is nonexistent

[horriblehistorieschild]

[jadeshifting]

— SCRIPTING YOUR FAMILY. ( i swear it can work even if they’re not dead )

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— DISCLAIMER. script what you want !! this isn’t judgement or an attempt to convince you of anything. i still have ded family in some realities, don’t worry :^)

alright, so a lot of shifters skip right to scripting their DR families straight into the afterlife. gone, nonexistent, dead and buried. this is for a myriad of reasons, though for me and everyone i know, it has a lot to do with backstory, or the idea that family ties are going to cramp our style or get in the way of our dream life and the plot. but, for anyone who’s interested, let’s flip the script (pun intended) and talk about why creating an original, unique family for your desired reality can actually make your experience richer, more meaningful, and a whole lot more fun !!

WHY KEEP THE FAMILY DRAMA?

first off, let’s address the elephant in the room: family can be a lot. but scripting them out entirely can be like throwing the baby out with the bathwater !! there’s tons of potential to consider there. a family offers plenty of opportunities to add depth, lore, and a whole bunch of emotional layers to your DR. think about it—what’s a life without a little family drama, a bit of cozy love, or even a quirky aunt who always brings the laughs? it doesn’t have to be a big, happy family—it can be whatever you feel like you need, whatever fits

HOW TO BUILD YOUR DR FAMILY

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— SIZE MATTERS ( but not really ) .　　. 　 ˚　. when scripting your DR family, start with size. do you want a big, loud, chaotic family with siblings running around, or something closer to a small, tight-knit crew? maybe you’re an only child who’s the apple of your parents’ eyes, or perhaps you’re in the middle of a bustling household where everyone’s got a role to play. there’s no right or wrong—just what feels right for you, and what you feel like you need in that specific DR

— CHOOSE YOUR ROLES .　　. 　 ˚　. who’s in your family? a loving, supportive mom who’s your biggest cheerleader? a cool dad who’s kind of your best friend? maybe a set of grandparents who tell you the most insane stories about their youth, or a mouthy sibling who keeps you on your toes. think about the roles that would enrich your life in your DR. remember, these people are there to support your life, not unnecessarily complicate it

— CONNECTIONS .　　. 　 ˚　. now, here’s where it gets fun (in my opinion): your relationships. are you super close with your mom, the kind of close where you can endlessly gossip and have deep life talks? is your dad the type to give you space but always manages to have your back when it counts? maybe you have an insane sibling rivalry that spans over a decade. the relationships you script can add so much flavor to your DR—it’s all about creating connections that resonate with you, and support you in all the ways you want to be supported

FITTING INTO THE LORE ( making it make sense )

if your DR has a specific lore or world-building element ( Hogwarts, Marvel, etc. you know ), weave your family into it !! maybe your mom’s a legendary witch, or your dad’s a top Auror. perhaps your family runs a magical bakery, or you’re part of an ancient lineage with a complex magical or academic heritage. the point is, your family should feel at home in your DR, adding to the story rather than feeling like an afterthought that detracts from it

SOME IDEAS FOR YOUR DR FAMILY

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( just to get you started )

— MAGICAL LINEAGE .　　. 　 ˚　. your family has a rich history tied to your DR’s lore—maybe you’re descendants of a powerful wizard, or you’ve got a long-standing feud with another powerful family. drama

— ECCENTRIC GROUP .　　. 　 ˚　. a family full of eccentric or seemingly ridiculous people—a dad who invents magical gadgets, a mom who’s an expert potion maker, siblings who are always concocting some mischievous or downright strange plans

— TIGHT-KNIT TEAM .　　. 　 ˚　. quiet and likely unassuming—just a small, close family who’s been through everything together together. you lot might not be flashy, but their love and support are solid and you know you can always count on them

— CHAOTIC CLAN .　　. 　 ˚　. a massive, bustling family where everyone’s got their own unique role. maybe you’ve got siblings with vastly different personalities, parents that always have something insane to say, or aunts and uncles hailing from faraway places. family gatherings are always an ordeal

DON’T STRESS THE DETAILS

here’s the deal: scripting your DR family is about enhancing your experience, not stressing you out or detracting from all the things you wanna do. whether you want to create a sprawling family tree or just script a few key members, it’s all up to you. and remember—at the end of the day, your DR is personal to you. it’s about what makes you feel connected, supported, and ready to dive into the adventure of a lifetime

so, build that dream family !! whether they’re magical, mundane, or somewhere in between, totally supportive or bringing never-ending drama to spice things up, at the end of the day they’re there to add richness and depth to your DR. and trust me, it’ll make your journey all the more special if you let it !!

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[hana99gaza]

**A Cry for Help: Surviving in Gaza**

Dear friends and compassionate strangers,

My name is Abdallah, and I am 23 years old. I am writing to you with a heavy heart, from the center of the Gaza Strip. My 12-year-old brother, Omar, and I are doing everything we can to help our family survive in these horrific conditions. We are trapped near the Netsarem army zone, which separates the north and south of Gaza. This area is under constant attack from Israeli tanks and airstrikes, turning our surroundings into a war zone.

Every day, we face the unimaginable. Walking in the streets has become a deadly gamble, but we have no other choice. We must go out to find food and water. The essentials we once took for granted are now rare and prohibitively expensive. The destruction of Rafah Crossing and the water desalination plants has made access to clean water nearly impossible.

Our situation is desperate. Medical supplies are almost nonexistent. Most hospitals have been destroyed and are overwhelmed with the injured and dead. Just last month, we lost our beloved aunt because we couldn’t get her the medical treatment she needed in time. She had heart issues, and the helplessness we felt as we watched her slip away still haunts us.

Despite the constant danger, Omar and I risk our lives every day to keep our family from starving. Every day is a struggle to find the help we need. The fear of being shot in the streets is constant, but so is our will to survive.

We are reaching out to you because we have nowhere else to turn. Your donation can be the lifeline that keeps our family alive. The funds you provide will go directly towards:

- Procuring food and clean water to sustain us

- Securing medical supplies and treatment for my injury and our family’s needs

- Providing temporary shelter and basic necessities to keep us safe

In the face of this unprecedented genocide, your support can give us hope and a chance to survive. No amount is too small, and every contribution brings us closer to safety.

Please, consider donating and sharing our story with those who might also lend a hand. Your compassion can be our beacon of hope in these darkest times.

Thank you from the depths of our hearts for your kindness and generosity.

With all our gratitude,

Abdallah and Omar

[yourmommy600]

Yo, I'm back! I finally have something to write for you!

This is small but enjoy!

Bottom! Bill cipher X top! male reader

Warnings: smut, you lick a triangle you freaky weirdo, size difference, gentle smut, porn with lazy plot,

A year ago, you found bill in the woods completely stone. You made the mistake of placing your hand on his essentially making a deal. Now you have a cocky annoying yellow triangle in your home.

Yet this little shape has been getting your curiosity it started with you holding him in your hands, rubbing your thumbs on the bright yellow being the pads of your thumbs feeling the little engraving of small bricks in Bills body the sharp points poking your skin anytime you touched them he'd mock you but you'd ignore him and continue to wonder what he was but had no answers bill never telling you enjoying how you'd question his very being confused.

Tonight, you sat on your sofa bill neatly in your hands, a small glass of wine in his small black hand drinking it as you stared. "You're a curious meat bag, huh?" He questioned his one eye closing as he took a gulp of his purple wine. You didn't say much of anything, but soon put your thumb on his body in the middle, gently causing the triangle to hum uncaring.

As you held this little bastard you got a surge of boldness and rubbed your thumb on the bottom part of Bills body as if touching his nonexistent groin. "Woah there, bud!" He said caught off guard by your sudden inappropriate touch "heh sorry" you apologized, chuckling nervously not sure what made you get so bold.

"Well, if you're just soooooo curious, why don't you explore more?" Bill asks, cackling as he dropped his wine glass after putting his arms out, not caring about the glass breaking hitting the ground.

You stared for a long moment as Bill laid in your palms, offering his body up to be explored, liking the attention you gave him.

Soon, you explored more and more from bills, little legs to his feet they had small boots with heels on them to his arms and hands it was oddly cool, most definitely unique.

Then your thumb neared bills eye the cocky being let out his black tongue it snaked around your thumb his black slimy saliva coated your skin bill never looked away from you as he opened his small legs resting them on the sides of your hands.

Your eyes widened as you saw a small hole where you touched minutes ago in between the triangles' legs. You were stunned but couldn't help but lift your hands up so bill was near your mouth. You then let your own tongue free, not hesitating to stick the tip of your pink tone inside this hole.

This action drew a giggle from Bill, who seemingly was enjoying this his little legs on your cheeks as you then deepened the depth of your tongue inside bill he tasted different from other men you've dated and or slept with you couldn't tell what it was..just..odd but that didn't stop your freaky ass.

You continue your rhythm of circling your tongue in the small hole belonging to Bill Cipher himself he made mewls and giggles of pleasure surprised a meat bag like you could be satisfying.

After some more pegging of your tone, you pulled away a thin string of saliva that came from your mouth connected to bills hole lowering your hands to your groin, your throbbing erection tenting your jeans.

Bill laughed, mocking you before finally doing something and unzipping your zipper, freeing your leaking cock pre-cum pearling from the tip as you then press the tip on the hole that was clearly to small but with your pre-cum and your saliva on bills hole you managed to prop your thickness in the triangle but only halfway.

Why? Mostly cuz our little yellow triangle is small, and your boner isn't. You'd split him in half! But he was uncaring urging and whining for you to go on, so you did rocking your hips back then forth, gently impaling him with your shaft he was nicely warm.

"Urhhh-.." Bill was now making more louder mewls and odd sounds, his eye rolled back, teary-eyed as his tiny claws marking the base of your thumbs thin claw marks on your skin bleeding a tiny bit your small amount of blood dripping onto your wood floor along with the mess of bills wine.

The smooth rhythm of your rocking hips got more and more messy groans left your parted lips bills hole sucking you in tight like a vice forcing you more to your climax the fog covering your mind as you closed your eyes panting the lewd sounds coming from bill made you look at him seeing how he enjoyed this.

"Ah shit.." You mumbled, leaning your head back as your hands suddenly tightened on bill and pulled him fully down on your cock causing it to spill and burst inside bills walls painting them white and filling him like a donut.

Bill made choking sounds, so you pulled out, thinking you did too much panting and sweating somehow your hair a mess your seed falling like a water fall out of bills widened hole making a mess of the already dirty floor bill laid there on your hands.

You rested him on your thighs and leaned back against the sofa burnt out but satisfied just like Bill, who looked at the ceiling in a hazy before drifting into a sore slumber.

Yea, short, but at least something for you, and I'll totally not disappear again! 😃.

[furious-rogue-stuff]

Heat Chapter 46: Chisme

Merry Christmas, yah filthy animals! 😜 This has been long overdue, and while this year has been awful and landed me in the hospital for emergency surgery, it actually forced me to slow down and rest - which helped me finally finish this installment~! Hope you enjoy 😊

Pairing: Javier Peña x OFC | Javi x Querida

Disclaimer: Written in 2nd person narrative, you can safely assume our heroine and love/lust interest is a Latina, written by a Latina. Here's my philosophy on my writing, for further context.

Rating: Mature/Explicit 🔞

Word Count: 21,000+

Summary: You feel serene and content now that Javi knows what you've been going through. It's brought you both even closer. So as the gala looms close, and you each get wind about all the gossip regarding your not-so-secret relationship at work, will the opinions of others test you both?

Warnings: Graphic descriptions of sex, including unprotected sex. Mentions of raunchy sexual acts, angst, wariness, anxiety, and fertility worries. Descriptions of power play, praise kink, light bondage and dirty talk. Allusions to jealousy, animosity, foreboding threats, and resentment. Some Jealous!Javi, Protective! Javi, Nervous!Reader. In the vein of Narcos being a bilingual show, and Javier Peña being fluent, I felt it was apropos to include Spanglish and Spanish throughout.

Heat Masterlist

Previous chapter - Chapter 45: Deserving - Part 2

Chapter 46: Chisme

After the surprising rollercoaster of emotion and passion that transpired following the barbecue, you and Javier are on cloud nine.

It felt like the last big wall that you'd kept up to guard your heart had fallen away, and Javi was still there, devoted and willing to love and protect you. And for him, it felt like a big obstacle had been conquered for you both. Not to mention that you understood the depth of his love for you, finally, while also making him feel the most fulfilled he's ever been. Yet still yearning hopefully for so much more still to come.

The next morning, while still cuddled in his arms, you'd told him about everything. Explained everything the doctors had told you so far, all the tests and check-ups, how you'd been off of the pill since before he'd come down to take the job. All your fears regarding your fertility issues being permanent – seemingly inherited from your mother, who'd had trouble conceiving. How that had played a role in the dissolution of your parents' marriage.

How you'd started to consciously fear that the same would happen between you and Javier.

His heart had ached at you telling him that.

Resolute, Javi had insisted, "Querida, that would never happen—"

"But, I just…I wasn't sure. We'd talked about it so loosely, but that was if it happened by accident. And—And at the time, I didn't think that I wouldn't be able to. That the choice wouldn't be mine. I spent so much of my life protecting myself from getting pregnant, I didn't ever think the possibility was nonexistent—"

Gently, he'd pressed, "Mi amor, you don't know that yet. You said nothing's been diagnosed yet."

Taking a breath, you'd gazed into his eyes, and asked, "What if, you want to start a family one day, and I…I can't get pregnant?"

"Honestly? I spent all day yesterday anxious, thinking you might've been, and I was," Javi paused, not wanting to say 'I was scared' since it wasn't accurate, but then he continued, "I was nervous. I don't think I'm cut out to be a parent. To be a father" was his admittance, and at your shocked expression, he confessed, "But then, seeing you hold the baby? Thinking of us being there for each other, doing it together, if it was happening? It didn't seem scary anymore."

Touched deeply by that, you'd hugged him tight, and Javier nuzzled you sweetly when you whispered, "Really?"

"Absolutely," he'd assured, dark brewed eyes softening as he caressed your cheek tenderly.

He'd gone on to tell you how it wasn't anything like the last time he'd had the prospect of fatherhood foisted upon him. How Lorraine telling him she was late had filled him with terror, and a paralyzing sense of doom. But that the thought of not doing right by her hadn't even crossed his mind. The obligation is what had kept him in the relationship that had always been rocky, with only the hope of being a good father – a good provider – keeping him from sinking into dread every day. And how all of that had caved in around him when she'd told him the day before the wedding that she'd gotten her period. That from the start, she hadn't been completely sure she was pregnant, but had thought it would be good for them – that it'd make them settle down, and commit completely.

It was the most Javier had ever spoken about that time. Sure, you'd known important details. That around the same time he'd been thinking of applying to the DEA, Lorraine had told him she was late. How to keep things from devolving into gossip and drama – to preserve her honor and not disappoint her parents, he'd told her they should get married. And the rush to plan something had included asking her father for his blessing, showing him the ring Lorraine had picked out and he'd purchased, and booking the chapel on the hot summer day for the nuptials to happen not even a month later.

But hearing how the feelings had been so different then than they'd been for him the day before? That unlike feeling resigned to his fate then, he'd felt something shift for him at the thought of you being pregnant? It made your heart feel full.

So, all the fear and shame melted away when Javier had told you with genuine feeling, "If we're meant to have a family, we will. Nothing is decided for us. As long as we love each other, and we want to make a life together, that's everything I could ever want. I want to build a life that matters with you, Celina. I want to make you happy. I love you."

As you wait outside the shop, reminiscing about the heart-to-heart, you think about how you'd told Javi, "I love you so much, Javier. I want the same thing," and are distracted in your fawning thoughts, so you don't notice Zoraida rush over from the nearest mall entry until she's tapping you on the shoulder.

Startled, you whirl around and huff at yourself before warmly greeting her with a kiss on the cheek and hug.

"Someone's jumpy," she wisecracks, smiling as she gives you a knowing once over. "Did you get a tan?"

"I did," you answer simply and lope over to the front display window of the shop. "Rafa is meeting us here, right?"

"Yep! He's on his way from Buchanan," she retorts and checks her watch. "Tayra said she's coming from Guaynabo, so hopefully she'll get here soon."

"And the plan is for the engagement party to happen Sunday at their place, right?" you ask, as you absently balance your weight onto your left hip and shift your purse to sit more comfortably on your shoulder.

"Yeah, it's gonna be a surprise. He's taking her away to propose Saturday, and when they come back home, the party will be happening," she explains, then adds amusedly, "I cannot believe one of us is finally going to succumb to marriage."

"Well, she could end up saying no, so the surprise party might be kind of awkward," you sarcastically muse.

"Ay, por favor. You know she's been wanting to get married forever," is your friend's glib reminder, to which you concede with a sardonic shrug. "Are you bringing Javier to the party?"

"Yes, and I'm warning you from now to not give him the third degree, ok?" is your stern mutter, crossing your arms when she scoffs and waves you off, so you insist, "Seriously. I want to bring him along and just have a nice time. The focus should be on Naida and Rafa anyway—"

"What're you lecturing Zory on?"

You both turn to see Tayra approach from the central promenade of the mall, with her long stride and confident poise.

"Eh, she doesn't want us to interrogate her jevo on Sunday," Zoraida deadpans before kissing her hello on the cheek. "With her track record, I don't think we should listen—"

"Zory!" you snipe, taking umbrage before quickly greeting Tayra hello.

"Well, she has a point. We didn't do nearly the questioning we should've the last time—" is Tayra's matter-of-fact musing that you scoff dismissively at.

"This isn't like the last time. I've told you plenty about him and our relationship already. Probably more than I should've. So be satisfied with that, and please, just be nice to him," you beseech, hands going to your dark blue pantsuit-clad hips when they both exchange contrarian looks.

Just as they seem about to tag team you with their objections, Rafa approaches from the nearest entryway into the mall.

"Hey, guys! Thanks for meeting me and helping out with this," Rafael Pagán, Naida's longtime boyfriend, greets boisterously as he hugs you each.

"We're more than happy to!" you affably assure.

The discussion around Javier is put to the back burner, and the four of you enter the jewelry store filled with wall-to-wall display cases. You are greeted by a saleswoman behind the center display console, who helps guide you all over to the engagement ring section.

The assortment of fine jewelry and lavish-looking diamonds throughout are clearly intimidating for Rafa, so you three talk through all the specifications you know Naida would like in an engagement ring.

"—Something that will fit a setting like this one. She's never liked the standard wedding band."

"Yeah, and no pear-cut diamond! She thinks it's the ugliest."

"And yellow gold. She thinks platinum gold is nice, but she doesn't think it looks traditional enough."

After perusing the display counter individually, you each decide to pick out a ring for consideration.

"Oh, what about that one?" you point out a specific ring in the display case to the saleslady, and once she's retrieved and placed it down on the glass surface for you all, you remark, "It looks timeless, elegant."

The girls check out the sweeping cross-prong, classic 3-stone engagement ring in the yellow gold band, admiring the clarity of the center circular diamond and the smaller matching ones on either side of it.

"Wow, it kind of looks like one of the ones she used to have in that scrapbook, remember?" Tayra remarks, and Zoraida nods along.

"Uh, scrapbook?" Rafa asks, looking nervous.

"Oh, don't worry. It's not like she's been fantasizing about her perfect wedding since she was 13-years-old or anything," Zoraida can't help quip, and you shake your head comically at her adding, "All the way down to the pattern of the napkins at the reception—"

"Anyway, I think this one is definitely a contender," you redirect sagely and gesture for the girls to keep perusing the display case.

Doing so, Tayra selects a more vintage-looking option, while Zoraida picks out a very glitzy 18-karat gold and knife-edge diamond ring with smaller stones lapping the band on either side of the big princess-cut center diamond.

Leaving the final decision to Rafa, you each agree to not lobby him to pick in front of you, deciding to be surprised by the selection like everyone else will during the engagement party.

"—Oh, remember her ring size is six," you tell Rafa as the three of you wish him well and say your goodbyes.

"Thank you all! I really couldn't have done this without your help," he genuinely declares before going to the purchase counter to deliberate on which ring to choose.

As soon as you three are away from the shop and at the main thruway of the mall, Tayra mutters to Zoraida, "You know there's no way he's picking yours, right?! That was easily a 5-figure ring!"

"He said he's been saving up!" she defends, and you snicker drolly, so she needles, "Oh, so when Javier asks for our help to pick a ring, I should go with the most cheapy-choppy thing, eh?"

"Mine wasn't cheapy-choppy!" you counter, shoving her wryly by her shoulder. "I have a photographic memory, and that ring was almost exact to one of her favorites in her scrapbook."

"It just wasn't gaudy, like you like your jewelry, Zory," Tayra lobs and grins.

Scoffing with outrage while you purse your lips knowingly, Zoraida snipes, "My jewelry is not gaudy! It's just ritzier than you two like wearing, is all. As a matter of fact, Eleanor Roosevelt called, and she wants her ring back, Tayra!"

"Oh, whatever! It was a gorgeous vintage ring! That oval-cut diamond is timeless, and the braided band was something she's always liked as a design feature—" Tayra litigates to Zoraida, who plays aloof as she checks her manicure.

"It looked like the ring an old lady wore before The Great Depression," she zings dryly.

"Ok, I think we all have said our pieces. I guess we'll just see on Sunday, won't we?" you declare and gesture for a truce between the three of you.

All in agreement, you each exchange goodbyes in order to hurry back to your jobs, going your separate ways, with well wishes for the rest of your day and exclamations of, 'See you Sunday!'

You walk through the busy mall towards Sears, which is on the side of the building with the adjoining parking garage. As you go through the main level and head up the escalator to the third floor, you're unaware of the stares from some of the men in your vicinity as you stroll by – attention on getting through the lunchtime crowd so you can make it out to your car, which is parked on the top level of the garage.

Ugh, I gotta come back here before Friday with the girls, you're thinking to yourself, remembering you still need to get a pair of heels to go with the dress you're wearing for the gala. As you mentally itemize other errands and chores you needed to complete before the weekend, you're on autopilot while walking through the furniture showroom of the department store en route for the adjoining food court entrance.

It isn't until you've made it midway into the bustling space of diners milling around waiting in lines, grabbing tables, or meandering in the way, that a feeling prickles at the back of your neck.

Turning to look over your shoulder as you keep walking, you don't see anything out of the ordinary that could explain the weird feeling that you were being watched, so after almost bumping into a group of middle schoolers at lunch during their school field trip, you chastise yourself for not paying attention, and rush towards the outer exit.

You get to your car, and are about to get into the driver's side, but something makes you dutifully round the vehicle and check to make sure your tires look fine. Finding nothing out of the ordinary yet again, you scoff at yourself, get in the car, and pull out of the spot before cruising down to the ramp to exit the structure out to the street leading towards the avenue that will make your commute back to the Federal campus shorter.

While you're pulling into the security checkpoint's front gate, Javier is trying to rein his impatience in as he once again gets left on hold while trying to reach the FBI Agent in Charge, Bozzi, who has been indisposed most of the week so far.

"—Sorry for the wait, Agent Peña. We were unable to reach Agent Bozzi. Would you like to leave a message?" the man's admin politely explains when she returns on the line.

"I've been trying to get in contact with him almost every day this week already. Just tell him to call me back as soon as possible, please," he instructs curtly before ending the call. "Fucking prick," is his sharp grumble as he leans back in his desk chair.

"Who's a prick?" Steve asks as he walks into their shared office space with his refreshed mug of coffee.

Glaring over at him, Javi grouses, "How 'bout you call that Bozzi asshole and see why he's blocking the coordinated op, before I go over there and kick his door down."

"Oh, I'm not in charge of that, amigo," Steve acerbically rasps in that twang of his, shrugging innocently when Javi scoffs and scrubs his palm down his face in clear aggravation. "Plus, you don't want to signal to the guy that he's able to get under your skin, do yah?"

Huffing gruffly at Steve's point, Javi broodingly crosses his arms and concedes, "Of course I don't, but I don't have the patience to put up with this inter-agency standoff bullshit."

"You could go to Mercer about it?" Steve suggests, knowing by Javier's glower that is definitely not a serious prospect. "Or just go back to your days of running down informants, and roll up on the asshole?"

Grunting moodily, Javi considers it, then wonders out loud, "Think he'll be at the gala Friday?"

"Hah, you're willing to have a dustup with the dude there?" Steve asks, taking a quick sip of coffee, then presses further, "With Celina dressed to the nines, and practically all the Federal employees in attendance?"

Grunting sourly at the mental visual of him blowing his stack at Bozzi in the middle of the swanky event, with you standing by, horrified, Javi shakes his head and exhales, "No, that wouldn't be right."

"Well, I heard he's a gym rat. A lot of the federal agency guys use the training facilities at Fort Buchanan. It's supposed to have a state-of-the-art fitness center. Including a boxing ring," Steve mentions thoughtfully as he organizes his desk.

Absorbing that, Javi ruminates on it. While he considers the merits of dropping in on the FBI special agent without warning, you're in your office reviewing the progress reports on the upgrades your team has been undertaking.

After a few minutes of that, you sigh and set the reports aside so you can take a break and take another bite of your lunch. You pause just as a knock raps on your door, followed by Devon poking his head in. Waving him in since your mouth is full, you quickly dab your napkin over your lips while he apologizes.

"Sorry! I wanted to go over your calendar for the trip?"

"No worries! I had to run out during lunch so I've been multitasking eating and reading," you retort affably and put the lid of your lunch container on before grabbing for your planner. "We've been so busy lately, so thank you for being proactive and helping me plan this."

"No problem. So, I was able to coordinate the best dates the team lead there could have everyone be available for the conference in St. Thomas," Devon explains as he sits in front of your desk and reviews the itinerary he's worked on. "I think with everything coordinated right, you'd only need to be gone two, three days tops."

"Oh, excellent," you reply, relieved to not have to bother with making the arrangements this time around. "The last trip before the holidays had been such a hassle. I didn't plan the flights right and had a day layover."

"Luckily they've increased the flights now, so there are more options," Devon remarks before going into detail about the dates, tentative schedule for meetings, the conference, etc.

You're just in the middle of finalizing the last details when another knock on your door draws both your attentions to it as Ellis opens it and leans in to ask, "Interrupting anything?"

"We're just planning for that upgrade conference in St. Thomas," you retort and wave him in as you ask, "What's up?"

"Totally not important, but I'm going to be busy the rest of the week with some telecom stuff, so I wanted to ask if you knew the level of swank I need to dress for the gala Friday night?" your friend explains and asks as he sits in the available chair next to Devon.

"I swear, did no one read the email?" you joke, amused at Devon and Ellis exchanging puzzled looks, so you relent, "Ok, I don't think they did a good job spelling it out in the invite, but based on the location and who will be attending, it's cocktail attire."

"Soooo…" Ellis dramatically intones as he moves his hand in a beckoning gesture for you to elaborate.

"So, not business casual, and not black tie. Basically a nice suit. Nothing casual," you explain with a wry smirk when Devon nods and Ellis frowns. "Just let Anita dress you."

"Har-dee-har," he drawls comically before asking Devon, "You're a snappy dresser, so how fancy you planning on taking it?"

"Well, Noreen is wearing a cocktail dress, so I plan on wearing a dark suit and tie," the younger man answers, adding, "Oh, and a matching pocket square."

"See? That's perfect cocktail attire," you razz Ellis, who has always preferred being business casual.

"Alright, fine. I'll just have Anita get something for me," he defaults amiably as he looks at his watch. "Crap, I gotta head to my meeting. You and Anita were going to the mall still, right?"

"Yep. Connie, too. We're planning on meeting up Thursday at Plaza after work. Now go, before you're late!" is your quip.

As Ellis gets up and pats Devon on the shoulder in goodbye, he asks, "You and Javier are riding to the gala together? Or do you need a ride?"

"So far, we're driving together. I'll let you know if plans change," you retort coolly and wave him off as he exits your office.

Once you're both alone again, Devon scoots to the edge of his seat before asking, "I take it things are official?" At your curious expression, he clarifies, "Forgive me for asking, I meant about you and Agent Peña."

"Oh. Yes. We've, um, reconciled," you find yourself answering, before scoffing at your choice of words, then adding more confidently, "Yes, we're seeing each other again. He'll be my date to the gala."

"Good, I'm glad," Devon genuinely tells you, and at your brows raising in query, he confides, "There's just been chatter in the building the last few weeks. Mostly speculation—"

"Mind telling me some?" you interject, tone easygoing as you add, "It's when you're the subject of the gossip that it tends to rarely filter your way."

Cracking a lopsided smile, Devon nods and admits, "Well, everyone has heard some version of Colombia and what went down there; how your relationship was secret, but still managed to, um, get out. But for some time, since he first set up in the office here, really, people have been speculating that he only came down here to rekindle things."

"Oh?" you ask, intrigued, but not giving anything up.

"Yeah. I guess the gossip picked up from you both being seen walking together on the campus after lunch one day. And occasions when you've both driven out in the same car together for home?" he tells you as he idly toys with his work binder after sitting back more comfortably in the chair. "It's mostly been observational. No negative commentary or anything. At least none that I've heard."

You absorb that, then respond, "Thank you for telling me. In full transparency, we've put off disclosing the relationship officially to the chief, but plan to do so very soon. Since the guidelines aren't as restrictive as they'd been back at the embassy, it didn't seem like anything we needed to rush."

"Understood. And this stays between us," Devon replies earnestly.

You sense his genuine conviction on the matter, and give him a grateful smile, nodding your unspoken thanks.

"All right. Now, where were we with the planning?" you redirect back to the previous task seamlessly.

Unbeknownst to you, the gossip in the building about you and Javier had many layers, and most of them were filtered away from your staff, who politely kept any knowledge private and did not themselves partake in talking rumors. So, Devon nor anyone else would've been aware of the tawdrier chatter and speculation.

If not for the local junior officers who'd been tasked to work with the different federal agencies keeping their ears open and having fostered such goodwill with them overtime, Javier wouldn't know half of the chisme that was going around. All of his and Steve's agents had enough sense not to talk about it in the field office, or within earshot of the ASAC, Segarra, but he was always able to read the energy of others who thought they knew shit about him.

That being said, Javier was still getting used to having the blather about him involve you, and it ground his gears that anyone would dare gossip about you at all. Let alone because of him.

As he drove to your place at the end of the workday, he couldn't help brood over it, especially after spending so much time trying to pin down Bozzi, the culprit for the most recent bit of chatter he'd heard relayed to him by Wilmer that afternoon.

"—I was talking to a pana of mine who was assigned to the FBI office. Agent Bozzi was bragging about having chatted Miss Celina up recently, and how he couldn't wait to see how she'd look for that gala. Mentioned how at the last mingling event, she'd shown up in a sexy dress—"

Javier had done everything to keep his temper from flaring and his expression from betraying how incensed it made him, hearing about the man so flagrantly moon over you.

Steve had signaled for Wilmer to exnay any more detail from where he stood behind Javi, but ended up feigning aloofness when his co-SAC glanced quickly back to catch him, so while Steve patted Javi innocently in farewell, he remarked, "—Anyway, let me know how the cabinet meeting goes tomorrow. I'll be at the federal building for the rest of the week."

Huffing out through his nose, Javier drove his preferred shortcut from the highway to your condo building while idly wondering if that asshole Bozzi would be at the same cabinet meeting he and other agency heads would attend at the Fortaleza the next morning.

Forcing himself not to stew further about it, he pulls onto your street and cruises up to the gated driveway, lowers his window to punch in the security code, and proceeds to drive down to the guest parking spot. As he parks, he notices your car is in the designated spot you use, so he takes a deep inhale before letting the breath out – wanting to shed any of his surly temper before exiting his car and heading up to your floor.

After having decided to sneak out of work once you'd finally gotten through the progress reports, you'd gotten home to your place, stripped out of your chic pantsuit and pulled on a comfy house dress, and decided you were in the mood to decompress from the day. Fixing to start dinner early so you could spend the rest of the early evening relaxing and waiting up for Javi, you'd opened the balcony slider so the cool northern breeze could filter into the main living space while you cook.

You'd just finished with pressing the head of garlic on the cutting board when you hear the key slip into the lock just before the front door opens.

Javi comes in and seems surprised to see you already in the kitchen. You're in a slinky, pale pink house dress with a wide collar, and your hair is pulled up in a cute bun with a few whisps framing your face. A nice breeze fills the space and helps carry the scent of the garlic over to his nose, and the whimsy of coming home to something so comforting and familiar flutters in his gut.

With a soft smile, you can't help internally fawn at how adorable he looks in his slightly rumpled suit, big brown-eyed gape softening his features in that irresistible way that makes you gleeful.

"Hey, guapito," you greet in a flirty lilt as you start to remove the cloves of garlic from the head. "You're home early."

Feeling that funny tickle in the back of his breastbone radiate warmth through him, Javi closes the door and locks it behind himself before placing his keys on the side console and quickly heading around the kitchen counter to kiss you hello. His lips covetously press to yours, carried away by how wonderful it is to have you as his respite after the day he's had.

Looping his arms around your waist from behind, Javi's canela-smooth hum makes you smile as he drawls, "So are you." He peers over your shoulder while you continue to dutifully prep the garlic. "What, no more leftovers from the BBQ?" is his goofy deadpan as he affectionately nudges his temple against the side of your head.

"Nope. I had the last of it for lunch. So, I'm making a creamy garlic tortellini alfredo with chicken," you tell him and cheekily ignore how he presses up against you and hums for you to turn towards him for more kisses. "I was going to make a salad too—"

"I'd definitely go for tossing your salad," Javi mumbles brazenly as if to himself while kissing on the back of your neck.

"What was that, chulo?" is your feigned aloof query, continuing to not give into his foreplay.

"You don't have to bother fixing a salad," he answers with boldface charm, resting his chin on your shoulder to instigate you into giving him your full attention. "It looks like it's gonna rain," is his casual observation as he caresses your waist and nuzzles your neck, savoring how your soft, perfumed scent makes desire sear up in his gut. With a raspy hum, he croons, "You can smell it in the breeze coming through the balcony."

"Hmm, I still can't believe we left the balcony door completely open the other night," you snicker as you peel the last clove, deliberately leaning back into his frame and rubbing your tush against his crotch. "We're lucky there wasn't an overnight storm, or that birds and lizards didn't mosey on in—"

His hands possessively grip your hips to still your teasing as he scathes sarcastically, "It was you riling me up that caused that slipup, chingona. Just like you're trying to do right now."

Feeling heat zing excitement into your core, you hum a dubious sound before chiming, "I have no idea what you mean." At his unconvinced grunt and puckish nuzzle, you simper, "Go make yourself comfy. Just getting started on the prep for dinner—"

"Dame un beso, gatita coqueta, and I'll go," he purrs bossily in your ear, which makes goosebumps rise on your skin and that titillated ache simmer down into your tingling center.

Flirtatiously snickering, you turn your head up to meet his full, pouty lips with your own.

His tongue sweeps into your mouth, twirling possessively with yours as he deepens the kiss and pulls a sexy sound from you.

Before the kiss becomes too passionate, Javi pulls back and leaves you leaning up for more before impishly pinching your waist and backpedaling to the hall whilst he rumbles, "As you were, miss."

Scoffing sassily, you scrunch your face up mockingly at him and shoo, "Go, atrevido."

Chuckling, he heads down to your bedroom to shed his blazer, belt and shoes. As he does so, he calls out, "I take it work was decent today, since you were able to leave early?" and goes to place his watch on the dresser before emptying out his pockets.

"Yeah. I spent most of the day reviewing progress reports and planning for my upcoming trip for the conference I told you about. The one in St. Thomas?" you reply as you chop the garlic before remembering to preheat the pot of water you have on the stove for the tortellini.

"I remember. That's a few weeks from now, right?" Javi calls out while he loosens the knot of his necktie and stares at your jewelry box, suddenly getting an idea.

As he leaves the tie hanging loose around his collar in order to stealthily lift the lid of the prettily decorated box, he glances to the doorway to make sure you're not coming in to catch him as you answer from the kitchen, "In a few weeks, yeah. I'm hoping to just be gone for a couple of days. Devon was helping me coordinate it all."

While you're answering, Javier is carefully sorting through the jewelry in the box, hoping to find inspiration for the kind and style of ring you like. He quickly realizes you don't seem to favor wearing rings, since he's only able to find an oval-stoned mood ring, and a silver Claddagh ring. He was staring at the latter, admiring the heart held between two hands, wondering what the significance of the crown on the heart was when the house phone started ringing in the living room.

"Want me to get that?" Javi asks as he rushes to replace everything in the jewelry box as it was.

Wiping your hands clean with a kitchen towel, you hurry around the counter to grab the phone from its charger on the console. "No, I'll get it," is your retort just before you press the button and answer, "Hello?"

"Hello, tesoro. I was expecting to leave yet another message on your answering machine," the deep bassy pitch of your father's voice greets you, and you have to stifle your eye roll as he asks, "How have you been? Did you get my last message?"

"Yes, I did. Sorry, it's been hectic lately. I've been all right. Today is the first time in a while I was able to get out of work before 5pm," you reply neutrally before asking, "How're things with you? Are you still in D.C.?"

As you listen to your father's answer, you turn at the sound of the water reaching boil, so you rush back to the kitchen and multitask. Javier pads barefoot down from the bedroom then, and you play up giving him a silly purse of your lips at seeing his now rolled up shirtsleeves and the ends of his red and gold tie swinging as he lopes by and gestures to the sideboard while mouthing, 'Want something to drink?'

Cupping your palm over the phone's microphone, you whisper, "Can we have wine?"

"Coming right up," Javier murmurs back, and the dashing smirk he sends your way before opening the cabinet to peruse the wine options is just infinitely sexy to you.

So much so, you're distracted when your father presses, "—Are you still there?"

"Y-Yes, sorry! I was distracted by something I have boiling on the stove. I'm glad all the meetings have gone well! Did they say when you would get an answer?"

"It depends on a few things. But I would imagine they'll make the decision by the Fall. Anyway, I won't keep you. Just wanted to check in," your father replies in his smooth, earnest tone. "Have you given any more thought to what we talked about last time?"

You pause in pouring the tortellini in the pot to answer, "I have. We can plan something when you get back. Does that work?"

"It does. I'm—I'm glad, tesoro. Thank you," he remarks in a tone that sounds oddly close to eager anticipation. Which, coming from your father? Takes you by surprise. "Look forward to spending more time together, mija. Love you."

"Love you too, Pá. Cuídate. Bye."

Once your father has said goodbye, you end the call and set the wireless receiver aside on the counter, just as Javi walks into the kitchen with the bottle of red wine he picked and places it down in order to retrieve the corkscrew from its drawer. He's covertly glancing at you from the corner of his eye as you swiftly dump the tortellini into the boiling water and resume the rest of the prep for the pan you're heating for the seasoned chicken breast.

"Everything good?" he asks, busying himself with opening the bottle of wine.

"Yeah," is your simple retort, engrossing yourself in tending to the chicken you're placing in the simmering hot pan.

As the fragrant aromas from the sizzling pan begin to fill the kitchen, Javi finds himself recalling how carefree and vivacious you'd been when talking to his father on the phone Sunday evening, so now seeing how guarded you were talking to your own father has him feeling disappointed that you were still feeling protective. That your defenses were up still in regards to anything involving the ominously intimidating man.

"I'm starting the sauce now. I have to stir it for a bit, so want to have a glass of wine while you wait?" you ask him, pulling him out of his thoughts just as he manages to pop the cork out of the bottle.

"Hmm, are you trying to get me nice and sauced up before dinner, preciosa?" is his playful croon as he retrieves a sturdy-yet-elegant stemmed glass and fills it with a healthy pour of wine before offering it to you.

It does the trick. You laugh and smile in that dazzling way that makes your eyes crest with mirth.

Taking the wine glass, you have a quick sip before licking your lips and purring, "Maybe?" then hand the glass back to him.

Chuckling, he takes a sip before sidling up to the opposite counter from the stove to ask, "Need any help? I can be your cooking assistant."

"Actually, yes! Can you get the milk and parmesan from the fridge?" you affably chime as you stir the tortellini in the pot.

Javi does so, and soon you're both working on the sauce together while you tell him the story of how you know so many Italian recipes.

"—Didn't have school, so to keep me occupied during the day, my mom let me help the nice lady we lived next to pick herbs or veggies from her garden in the courtyard. She showed me how to make pasta from scratch, and let me be her little sous chef. It was also a way for me to practice speaking Italian and for her to learn more English," you're remarking as you slowly mix in the tortellini with the sauce and chicken while Javi holds the tipped pot for you. "She taught me how to make the lasagna recipe too."

"You were making that at 8 years-old?" Javi balks as he sets the pot aside and marvels at you while you nod and sprinkle in some more herb seasoning whilst you stir everything together.

"Cooking was always fun, even when I was little. I liked it. Made me feel useful," you muse unguardedly before raising the stirring spoon to have a taste. "Mmm, here. Try it."

He lets you present the wooden spoon to his lips, and you watch as he sinfully eyes you with a molten look whilst he purses his lips to slurp the sample before flicking his tongue to lick the spoon suggestively.

You laugh and scathe, "Fucking fresco," before teasingly smearing the little bit of alfredo sauce left on the side of the spoon over his mustache so you can quickly lean up and lick it off.

It's so silly and sexy that Javi sputters a goofy grunt while the infectious smile that warms his handsome features unearths the boyish dimple in his cheek, which makes you girlishly fawn as you playfully shove him away from the stove and tease, "Bad sous chef! Quit seducing me—"

"Mira quien habla," he scoffs ruggedly and stands his ground to your impish nudges in order to take a sip from the wine glass before offering it to you as he asks, goadingly, "How much longer, jefa?"

Smiling around your sip, you swallow before musing, "Hmm, well it needs to rest for a bit, so let's cover the pan and give it a few, dulzón."

Snorting at that, Javi dutifully puts the lid on the pan and leads you by the hand out of the kitchen to the sofa, where you both sit.

Passing the wine back to him, you sidle up close and ask, "So, how was your day? I didn't expect you home until later."

Taking a deeper swallow than he'd intended, Javi grunts dryly before shifting in his seat to hand you the glass and stretch his arm out along the back of the couch cushion. "It was aggravating. Things feel like they're teetering close to the edge of going to shit, and I can't really place why the longer we work things, the less intel we actually have," is his venting remark, sounding more dispassionate than furious. At least until he absently scrubs his fingers broodingly along his chin as he grumbles, "And the inter-agency bullshit is grinding my patience to the bone."

Aside from the co-op being in limbo, Javier and Steve had daily briefings with the field agents on progress of leads, C.I.s, etc. Today's had addressed the frustrating lack of progress on tying financials to actionable targets, which meant he was going into the meeting the next morning with nothing fruitful to report. He hated it.

You can sense something else is bothering him, though, so you gently nudge your shoulder into him as you ask, "Anyone in particular that's tap-dancing on your last nerve?"

Huffing sourly out through his nose before he can help himself, Javi decides he doesn't want to downplay or obfuscate. "Yeah. That puto cabrón Bozzi. He's been impossible to get ahold of and is keeping a joint operation in limbo. And I can't help thinking it's deliberately just to piss me off. I got that meeting at La Fortaleza early in the morning, and I don't have much of anything to report since he keeps stonewalling DEA. Which, makes us look out of our depth," is his gruff explanation, dark chocolate eyes flaring as he glances sidelong at you while muttering, "And he's still talkin' shit about making moves on you."

Sitting up to fold your legs under you while you shift to look at him sassily, you redirect, "Funny, I heard that he's not the only one gossiping. Did you know speculation about our relationship is the topic of discussion through the federal building?"

Brow quirking intriguingly at that, Javi rumbles, "What have you heard? And who told you?"

Shrugging, you reply, "Devon, and he said it's mostly people chismeando on whether or not we're together. He said some are saying that you only accepted the DEA position here in order to rekindle things—"

"Which, is accurate," he interjects with a suave smirk that makes you chortle and give him an affectionate nudge. "What? I told you so."

"Yeah, well, while that's accurate, it's still not something I was really aware of until today – the gossip, I mean," you retort and take another sip from the glass before offering it to him. "So? What have you heard? And what is that sangano Bozzi saying now?"

Setting the wine glass aside on the end table moodily, Javi grumbles, "That he's chatted you up and is looking forward to mooning over you at the gala."

You internally roll your eyes, but seeing Javier scowl has you deciding you need to get him unwound. So, you curl into his side and glide your hand to caress the back of his neck, while the other hand coaxes him to look at you before you skim it down his jaw, to his sternum before slowly descending lower. Breath catching in his chest, Javi's eyes get heavy with want as he worries his bottom lip between his teeth.

"Sadly for him, all he'll manage is ending up watching you and I being together. How I'll be slinking up against you for kisses while we dance. The way your hands hold me while I run mine over you."

As you purr the sultry suggestions, your hand glides down to his waistband before lightly brushing along the seam of his fly before pausing.

"And, he'll have to stew, knowing I'm all yours, while watching us enjoy the night together, without giving him a single thought," is your smoky murmur as you finally cup him through his slacks.

With a groan, Javi nuzzles your neck and reacts to your touch by growling, "Oh fuck."

"Wanna hear the best part, galán?" you coax sensually as you fondle his rock-hard arousal through his clothes. Nodding vigorously, Javi grunts for you to continue, so you do. "The best part, is that he'll end up watching you take me home, and be left knowing that he never had a shot. And, that I'll be all yours when you get me naked and let me have you in all the salacious ways I want," is your scintillating whisper before you suckle on the erogenous spot on his neck before adding, "Like riding your cock as hard as I can—"

His hoarse whine makes your pussy clench. "Jesus fucking Christ, baby—"

It's then that you suddenly stop teasing him and swiftly scamper off of the sofa to prance towards the kitchen as you singsong, "Anyway! Enough about that. You ready to eat?"

The look on Javi's face is something you wish you could have a photo snapped of so you can enjoy it forever. It's a mixture of shock and awe, with a lot of surly hunger radiating from his smoldering stare as he incredulously eyes you as if your daring stunt was utter betrayal.

"…Get back over here, atrevida," is his rapacious, husky-pitched order, punctuated by him crooking his finger sternly for you to come back at once, or else.

It's just too good not to instigate him further.

"Oh? You're not hungry yet?" is your innocent chime, rocking on the balls of your heels as you fold your arms behind yourself, feigning naiveness. "If you wanna just lay back and unwind some more before dinner—"

"You wicked little tease. Get your naughty ass over here, right now, or you're gonna be in trouble," is his gravelly growl, brows quirking with the promise he's trying to relay while hiding his smirk behind the hand he scrubs across his upper lip.

"Hmmm? I don't know what you mean—" you trail off when Javi gets up from the couch and prowls around it like it's taking all his control not to just break out in a sprint to snatch you up in his arms and take you wherever he catches you.

Puckishly, he drawls, "Yeah, you do. And you're looking for trouble—"

Oh? Am I?" is your daring counter as you take a spritely step backwards further down the hall.

That wicked thrill begins to zing through him at your coquettish audacity, so he gravels in his silk baritone, "Damn right, and you know it. So, why don't you behave and come over here—"

Squinting your eyes challengingly, you take a step backwards before confidently turning on your heel to strut down towards your bedroom, announcing, "Nah. I'd like to see what kind of trouble you have in mind, tough guy."

Javi feels the exhilarated pulse of excitement shoot through him, so he follows and gains on you just as you've made it towards your dresser.

You glance at him in the reflection of the mirror as you let your hair down and shake it loose, and the instigating glint in your eye is pure mischief as he prowls over in order to press up behind you, boxing you in.

The deviant little quiver that curls heated arousal in your tummy before cloying into your core from how he keeps his eyes on yours in the reflection, coupled with the unpleased exhale he lets loose as he leans forward to whisper in your ear, has your breath stuttering.

"For starters? You're going to get naked, and walk your wicked ass to the bed and bend across it," he orders in a gruff murmur, the heat in his dark eyes matched by the feeling that sizzles through you when he moves his hands to grip your hips. "And if you backtalk me, I'm not going to fill your mouth or your pussy with anything. No matter how needy for it you are."

You shiver and bite your bottom lip when he latches his mouth to your pulse point on your neck and suckles possessively. His hands begin to rove your body, molding you to him as he greedily palms one breast while the other works teasingly down to slip up your dress. Trembling, you whimper softly and begin to glide your touch backwards to cling to him. But just when you melt into him, Javi pulls away and steps back, brawny hold receding and making you waver before turning on your heels to track him.

The lustful haze clears enough from your brain for you to realize he's going to withhold touch if you don't comply with his orders.

He enjoys how your eyes flicker with fiery outrage for the few seconds before you register it. That he's instigating you. His smirk threatens to peak the corners of his mouth and quirk his moustache with impish delight. It shouldn't turn you on so much. But it does, enough to make you unselfconscious about how hastily you pull your house dress off before unhooking your bra, shedding it swiftly, and tugging your panties off. And you're so wet with anticipation that you don't even blush when you obediently trot down to fold over the bed.

Javi is pleased, and shows it when he walks around to stand over you before looking back at your reflections in the dresser's mirror to lock eyes with you. Instead of undressing, he holds your avid stare as he caresses his hands up the backs of your thighs, fondling the swell of your ass to knead up its globes before humming and bending forward to plant a kiss to the small of your back. You make an impatient little sound, as if you're too worked up and needy for him. So, Javi shifts up and buffets his hand across your ass.

"Ah!" you gasp out and writhe, pussy throbbing hard from the spank and stealing your breath.

"Are you gonna behave, malvadita?" he husks ruggedly.

"Yes, mi amor," you airily affirm.

"Good girl. Now, stretch your arms above your head for me."

You slide your arms up without thinking about it – too wound up with desire to want to defy him, and you're rewarded with him pressing his hips into you while he gathers your wrists and holds them clasped together. The feeling of his silky tie caressing along your back before it swiftly is wound around your wrists makes you shiver against him.

"Tell me if this is too tight," he rumbles above your ear before finishing the fastening and giving it a tug.

You flex your wrists and feel how snuggly bound they are. "N-No. Not too tight—"

Javier working his ravenous mouth down the curve of your shoulderblade in a lazy path down your back has your voice cracking and a titillated mewl escaping your lips.

"Good," is his roughened croon before resuming his mouth's descent. He suckles kisses down the curve of your right buttock while he rushes to undress. His breath being ragged against your skin the only tell for how desperate he is to have his way with you.

Finally shedding his clothes, Javi ruts his cock along the cleft of your ass before thwacking it lewdly against the plump expanse of your left buttock. You stifle your moan into the bed, bound hands gripping the quilt as you involuntarily buck your ass up in hopes for more friction where you're pulsing for it. His warm skin skims across your back around to your front when he rolls you under him before getting between your thighs. He picks you up, and you loop your bound wrists over his head so you can cling to him as he balances you over his lap.

His cock ruts against your dripping folds, spreading them open as he stares into your flushed, titillated features. After leaning in to graze possessive kisses along your jaw, Javi husks in a velvet over steel purr into your ear, "For being my good girl, I'm going to fuck you until you come three times."

Javi is ever the man of his word.

He gives you the first time while pounding up into you as he holds you at your waist and plunges you onto him. When he tosses you onto the bed before flipping you onto your knees and drilling into your molten sheath from behind, you hit the second time while gripping the pillows and rocking back to meet his slamming thrusts.

"Mmph, that was good, preciosa," Javi gravels huskily into your neck, nudging his forehead affectionately against your shoulder before rearing back and spanking your right buttock and admiring how it jiggles while you mewl and tremble in the aftershocks of your climax. "Now, go ahead and get on your back for me."

Quivering with anticipation, you manage the feat of rolling onto your back and staring with needy reverence up at him, with your bound wrists over your head and your breasts perked up to his ravenous mouth as he leans over to kiss and suckle on them while his big hands hike your thighs apart to be held open.

The third time you reach bliss is when he's stroked dead-center into the nested bundle of pleasure deep inside you after fucking you into the bed – one hand holding you steady at the small of your back while the other fists the silky binding of the necktie cuffing your wrists together. It hits with such force that you wail his name and whimper when your sheath contracts hard around his throbbing flesh before you soak it with your climax.

He wants to keep his control from slipping, but at how you desperately try to clutch your fingers to his hand when you arch up and cry in ecstasy propels him over the edge, snapping his pleasure loose from the knot in his center and making him moan as his cock swells inside you before his release fills you with his hot seed.

You feeling deliriously complete when the bloom of his climax diffuses warmth through your sinew has you sighing a sweet, albeit exhausted little sound as Javi lies on top of you in a spent heap before mustering the effort to roll off and lie next to you on the bed.

The mind-blowing orgasm has you both buzzing – breathing hard and cooling down as you lie in post-coital bliss.

"Holy fuck," he exhales with raspy delight, smile crooked as he lulls his head over to look at you. Your sweaty and flushed features have a content glow as you lie in post-coital repose with your eyes closed. Your lashes are glossy, and your hair is a mess now, so he sidles close and gently brushes the strands that had clung to your dewy skin away from your face before rumbling, "Mírame, hermosa."

Lazily batting your lashes, your eyes muster a heavy-lidded peer before you try to rub your hand over them and remember your wrists are still tied together. Javi snickers and sits up enough to be able to quickly undo the necktie, unweaving the silky material in a swift unraveling motion that frees you before tossing it to the side and guiding your hands to loop around his neck so he could lean in and capture your lips in a sultry, loving kiss. He only breaks it in order to caress your cheek and catalogue your expression.

"Was that ok?"

His soft mumble makes you grin and cling to him affectionately. "That was really hot, babe. I'm still shaking," is your frank praise, eyes twinkling at him when you rub your nose against his, earning a relieved little snicker from him. "I very much enjoyed your kind of trouble, sir," you lilt saucily, and at his cocky hum, you add brightly, "Especially your bossy way about it."

The warm, raspy quality of his laugh makes you melt as he playfully rolls onto his back and takes you with him. Smugly, he starts to drawl, "Hmm, shit. I just remembered – whatever happened with all those toys? They would've come in useful—"

You playfully pinching his side makes him grunt humorously. "They're in a box up on the closet shelf, beyaquito," is your sassy simpering retort, sitting up to lounge against him while running your fingers through the damp curls clinging to his sweaty forehead as you add matter-of-factly, "I'd almost put the feather and vibrating cock ring into the box with your stuff I'd packed up and sent to Laredo," at Javi's brows shooting up comically, you chuckle, "But thought better of it."

"Jesus Christ. That would've made for a mortifying chat with Pops," Javi grimaces goofily while squeezing you in his arms mischievously, earning peels of laughter to giggle up from you.

A nice relaxing shower together later, you're spiritedly ribbing him about the topic from earlier – before you'd instigated his surly dominance game, as you exit the stall and grab a towel before tossing it to him.

"—C'mon. You can't blame me for being pissed about that," he grumbles sarcastically as he quickly runs the towel over himself, and wraps the fluffy material around his waist.

"You getting all grumpy over that cocky jerk like I would ever give him the time of day is just silly, Javi," is your rebuttal as you finish towel drying your hair before tucking it around yourself to tiptoe over to him when he rolls his eyes and slicks his wet curls back from his forehead. "Hey, guapito, don't get grouchy. You know I'm right," you tut in a flirty-yet-bossy drawl at him as you caress his stubble-darkened jaw and bat your lashes.

He huffs contrarily out through his nose, but his stubborn scowl relents when you hum in a goofy way that communicates, 'I'm right and you better recognize it!'

The sudden sound of rain starting to pitter patter outside before quickly becoming a deluge begins to filter through the apartment as an early evening storm cloud rolls in.

"Told you it looked like rain," Javi remarks before realizing, "Damn, the slider door!"

He quickly sidesteps around you and rushes to dutifully shut the balcony door that got left open.

"Javi, don't worry about it," you turn the corner to watch him hustle down the hall with a tight grip on the towel knotted at his hip, his pace mindful of the tile so he doesn't slip and bust his ass by accident. The way he's striding with a waddle reminds you of the way a little duckling would run at full speed. It makes you giggle and follow him so you can stand at the end of the hall and watch him pull the sliding glass door shut before locking it and yanking the vertical blinds back into place.

Seeing the muscles in his smooth, broad, tan back work with his movements beguiles you into staring. Into admiring his warm skin and lean sinew front-lit momentarily by the swaying blinds letting the waning sunset seep through. You can't help pining, What a gorgeous hunk.

"Hey, stud muffin," you call out to him, and when he turns, you wink at him and charm, "Dinner in bed?"

More than fine with that, Javi smirks and walks over to join you in the kitchen. "Sounds good to me, bravita."

A short while later, you and Javier sit up together in bed, eating dinner together. He's in a loose pair of blue boxers while you're in a champagne-toned silk nighty. The stormy breeze coming through the windows keep the room cool as you eat and chat.

"—Ok, I have to admit. I kind of got spoiled at your place. Got way too used to eating and watching TV in bed," you chime amusedly, sipping some wine before passing the glass to him.

He takes a big gulp before setting it aside, grunting in agreement with you. "Yeah, me too," is his retort, licking his lips before he wonders out loud, "Maybe I can get one of those little television sets, and it can go on the side of the dresser?"

You smile around your current bite. Once you've swallowed, you remark, "You don't have to, babe—"

"Or, maybe we can get a place together," he smoothly suggests before finishing the last helping of food on his plate. At you blinking surprisedly at him, he shrugs nonchalantly before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand to elaborate, "I mean, your place is far from work, and mine is close to it, but doesn't have much around it like you do here. Maybe we can find something that meets in the middle?"

Your heart does a summersault in your chest as you absorb that. "Your place isn't bad. Sure, it's a bit of a bachelor pad, but the gated neighborhood is nice and quiet," you find yourself remarking as you balance your plate of food on your folded lap before realizing that posture makes your lower back ache, so you shift to set the plate aside on the nightstand so you can lounge sidelong as you remark, "But I extended the lease here a couple of months ago, so I'm not sure about breaking it and moving—"

Javi sets his plate aside on the foot of the bed and stretches out to sidle close to you in order to caress his warm palm calmingly along your hip and thigh as he assures, "I didn't mean right now, querida. Just that maybe we could start looking. I like shacking up with you here, so I'm in no rush."

Snickering, you squeeze his forearm affectionately. "You do?"

"Yeah. It's like we're in our own world when we're here," is his charming purr as he leans over to kiss your shoulder before murmuring, "It's not nearly as far as your old place in Bogotá, and we're close to Old San Juan and the beach…and plenty of spots to go explore and get lost in, in between."

Feeling a tickle behind your breastbone, you let him loop his arm around your waist to tug you closer so he can reach your lips, and when you pivot your position, you end up wincing from the ache in your lower back. You bite back on it during the kiss, but Javi caught it and shifts back.

"Sorry. I think I tweaked something from romping around earlier," is your self-deprecating huff as you lie on your tummy and nuzzle his bicep.

Smirking, he sits up in order to move over so he can pat the center of the bed as he orders, "Alright, lay here and I'll give you a rub down, señorita."

Laughing, you try insisting, "You don't have to—"

"Well, I want to, now c'mon, traviesa," he counters in that canela-purr of his and pats the center of the bed with emphasis as he bounces his brows and purses his lips for you to go on.

Relenting, you shimmy over and lie on your stomach, smiling when he straddles your thighs and starts massaging his hands from the base of your spine upwards.

As you start to feel the ache ease up in your lower back, you sigh out dreamily, "Mmm, that feels nice. Thank you."

You feel his full lips press softly at your nape before he mumbles, "You're welcome. Gotta keep my good girl limber, after all."

You scoff amusedly at that before reaching your hand backwards to swat his side lightheartedly. "Oh yeah? Well if that's the case, burlón, I'll just have to take back up going to yoga classes. As a matter of fact, I'll just go to the 6:30 class tomorrow night," you heckle humorously as you roll over under him and goadingly pat your hands over his thighs. At his instigating grunt after he rests his palms over yours to stop them from sliding up further to tease him, you chime, "Wanna come with?"

Snorting, Javier deadpans, "Me, doing yoga? I'm already limber enough—"

"Oh, if you're too macho to do it, then never mind," you taunt melodiously, adding, "I guess I'll just stretch out in my leggings and halter top by myself…"

Smirking ruefully, Javi relents, "Hmph. Fine, I'll go, but I'm going to be way behind the rest of the class—"

"Actually, the night classes tend to be more intro/beginner-level friendly," you interject and squeeze his thighs cheekily. "You don't have to go if you really don't want to, chulito—"

"Oh no, you're not talking me out of it now. I wanna go, and I wanna see all the positions you can do, and what positions we can use in bed after," he tells you debonairly before winking at you smugly.

Humming approvingly, you blithely singsong, "That sounds like a wonderful plan, sir."

Chuckling, he leans down and starts showering you with merciless, mustachioed kisses along your neck and jaw, earning your effervescent laugh that trails off into the discordant little sigh he adores.

The next morning, you stir awake at the sound of Javi getting dressed, and roll over to watch him put on a blue jacquard-patterned tie before be grabs the slate-gray blazer from the chair and shrugs into it. When you shift up in bed and rub your eyes, Javi turns and frowns. "Shit, I didn't mean to wake you," is his mutter as he walks over and sits on the edge of the bed. "It's still early. Go back to sleep, cariño—"

You shake your head and shuffle closer to kiss his cheek. "I will, after you give me a hug and promise not to bail on yoga tonight," is your soft mumble as you smile sleepily at him.

Grunting humorously, he nods and wraps his arms around you. With a kiss to your temple, he declares, "I'm not bailing. Meet up here and go together? I should be home by 6pm."

"That works. I'll be home from shopping with the girls by then, and we can go," you answer sweetly and peck him on the lips. "Good luck on the meeting."

"Thanks. Now," Javi remarks as he guides you to lie back and tucks you in before kissing you on the forehead. "Get a few more winks. I'll see you later."

"Love you," you sigh softly as you hold onto his hand.

Giving it a loving squeeze before brushing your hair back behind your ear, he murmurs, "I love you too."

You smile and close your eyes, beyond relaxed. So much so, you barely hear him get his shoes on and head out to the living room, where he pockets his things before exiting the front door and locking up behind himself.

Twenty minutes later, Javier is driving into Old San Juan, navigating through the circuitous traffic in the tightly-lined streets of the islet to get to the security gate of the Governor's mansion. Once he's parked, he clips on his identification badge and exists his car to meet up with the aide that receives him and leads him up to the cabinet meeting. On the way, he trades polite conversation with the young man as they traverse the grounds and enter the main edifice where the government meetings occur. After leading the way to the wing with the conference room today's meeting would be taking place, the aide excuses himself and leaves Javi, who checks his watch while already reaching into his pocket for his packet of nicotine gum.

"You're early, Jav."

He turns and spots Tom Vernon, head of ATF, as he leans against the nearest column and sips from a small paper coffee cup.

"Mornin' to you too, Tom," is his neutral reply as he pops a gum out of the tray and tosses it into his mouth, giving it a few chews before asking, "Where'd you get the coffee?"

"Oh, friendly little lady came by with a coffee cart earlier. Good stuff," the man in the brown suit and mismatched yellow tie replies before taking another sip.

Grunting, Javi crosses his arms over his chest to keep his right hand from ticking impatiently due to his mounting anxiety about the meeting. "Speaking of friendly. You're buddies with Bozzi, right?" When Vernon shrugs noncommittally, Javi presses, "Happen to know if he's going to show up for the meeting today? I need to talk to him."

"You never know with Tony. What you gotta talk to him about?" is Vernon's aloof query.

Trying not to scowl, Javi ticks his jaw askew to toy the gum to his opposite cheek before resuming chewing. "A joint op. My ASAC got word from Bozzi's guy that he denied a coordinated operation request. I haven't been able to get ahold of him all week," Javi lays his proverbial cards out on the table with the seasoned ATF agent, eyeing him guilelessly as he adds, "Kind of starting to think he's deliberately pushing my buttons."

That gets Vernon's aloof expression to perk up with interest. "Well, I can't say I know his motives on that, but he definitely has the most leeway down here among all us agency heads. The locals don't like to fuck with the FBI," is Tom's observant remark, lowering his voice when he cusses and giving a cursory glance about before adding, "Tony has a few irons in the fire, from what I've heard, so I'd just assume he's prioritizing those operations and his job over anything you DEA fellas are looking to execute."

Unconvinced, Javier puts his hands on his hips and stares at Tom like he knows a bullshitter when he sees one. "I have it on a reliable source that his job isn't the only thing he's prioritizing these days," he remarks persuasively, communicating the unspoken part with his narrowed gaze.

Squinting knowingly, Vernon mutters irreverently, "I'm not one to get between two circling bulls, so I'll just say: He has been working that prospect since before you showed up."

His shoulders square up at the veiled reference. "Most know by now that prospect was in my purview from before. Hell, I heard you even told him said prospect was already spoken for," is his leading comment, placing his hands in the pockets of his slacks as he raises a brow questioningly at the other man.

Cracking a lopsided smirk, Tom concedes, "I sure did. He's a hard-headed fella, so it didn't dissuade him one bit, but you might need to let it play out to its own natural conclusion, Jav. I bet it'll work itself out—"

The nearby conference room door opens, interrupting Vernon. A female aide smiles brightly before holding the door open and greeting, "Good morning, gentlemen. Please, come in and find a seat. We'll be starting the meeting soon."

Exchanging a look, the two agents return the greeting and lope over to enter the room.

Checking his watch before he dumps his spent gum into a nearby wastebasket, Javi sees there's only a few minutes remain until the start of the meeting. Aides and their officials start to file in, so he goes around the room to shake hands and look professional and have face time with key cabinet members. After exchanging greetings with some of the local government officials, he ends up taking a seat across from the ATF agent, who is shaking hands with a cabinet member just as a younger agent with an FBI-labeled ID badge clipped to his suit breast pocket enters. Once officials begin to file in, he is aggravated when the governor enters with his aides, and the Special Agent in Charge of the FBI still hasn't arrived. Fucker isn't going to show.

Sure enough, when the meeting progresses to the stage where each federal government agency head is supposed to take turns giving a progress report, the representative for the FBI update ends up being dictated by the Assistant Special Agent in Charge, who apologized for his superior's absence.

Javier's annoyance helped sharpen his confident resolve when it came time for him to give the DEA progress report. But by the end of the meeting, he's was stewing. So much so, he makes a beeline to the FBI rep the minute the governor exited.

"Castellano, is it? Javier Peña," is his battering ram of a greeting, forcefully shaking the other man's hand and not giving him a chance to even return the gesture by barreling on with, "Segarra told me your boss denied the joint operation request. I've had a hell of a time trying to get ahold of him for a rationale, so since he ain't here, can you give me one?"

The other man has a lot more steel to him than his ASAC, unfortunately, so he keeps his cool and explains, "Agent Peña, my boss has been overseeing an operation I cannot disclose at the moment, but I assure you, I will brief him on your follow-up regarding the co-op request. Have a nice day."

Clenching his jaw, Javi absently scrubs his palm down his face before turning back to glare at the retreating man's back.

"Valiant effort, Jav," is Tom's amused drawl as he comes up to stand next to him. "That fella is ex-Marine. He ain't going to be mad-dogged easily—"

"You going to the gala tomorrow night, Tom?" Javier cuts in with a dry, acerbic tone as he loosens the knot in his tie and brushes his fingers over his moustache, hand concealing how his nostrils are flaring crossly.

Pressing his lips together musingly, Vernon replies, "Naw. I got a bureau conference back in D.C. I'm flying out for at noon." At Javier's grunt of acknowledgement, he leans close and confides, "I assume you'll be taking that gorgeous prospect of yours, though, so it'll be a shame to miss watching the novela play out. Good luck, Jav."

He pats Javier on the back before loping off and waving over his shoulder at him.

Exhaling gruffly, Javi heads for the exit and stalks to his car, beyond irritated.

While he drives out of the secure compound to traverse the morning rush hour traffic, you're putting on a pot of coffee before arranging items into order on the breakroom counter in your department. The extra sleep time had you feeling refreshed and ready for the full day, looking forward to leaving the office to meet Connie and Anita at the mall to find outfits for tomorrow night's gala.

Having run into your neighbor, Jodalys, in the lobby on the way to your car, you chatted about the gala excitedly, and accepted her invite to get ready together before the event. The prospect of not having to do your own makeup was too good to pass up, and so you coordinated a time and exchanged goodbyes before commuting to the office and getting a jump on the workday.

You'd already gotten through your messages, including your personal email inbox and been pleasantly surprised to see a message from Francesca. Having caught up with your former intern and agreed to write her a letter of reference for grad school, you'd made sure to block out your late afternoon of any meetings.

Pouring yourself a cup of coffee, you make mental notes for yourself regarding what you needed to pick up at the mall later, when you hear Olga's heels clicking along as she enters the breakroom.

"Ah, you beat me to it!" she declares, referring to you making a pot of coffee.

"Yeah, I needed the caffeine boost," you quip as you stir the sugar with the skinny little straw while scooting to the side to give her access to the counter. "Oh, did you get around to blocking off the department calendar for tomorrow afternoon? I want everyone who plans to attend the gala to be able to without any late day meetings tripping them up."

"All set! A lot of the other admins throughout the building have been doing that. Everyone's looking forward to it," Olga replies as she pours some cream into her coffee. "It's rare when an event that glitzy is open to clerical and office staff."

"Well, I'm glad they planned it to be inclusive. Should be interesting to see all the different offices and departments mingling," you remark before taking a sip of your coffee.

While she stirs some sugar into hers, Olga's expression perks up as she asks in a hushed tone, "Do you think even the different agents will attend? I mean, from like the federal agencies?"

Intrigued, you quirkily smile and lean your weight into your hip as you ask, "I'm not sure. My guess is it'll depend on their shifts? Usually, field agents alternate being on stand-by, or have to be on call during certain operations. Why?"

You expect this to finally be the moment Olga, who you know to be congenial and a well-meaningly-nosy social butterfly, will ask you about the rumors involving you and Javi.

Instead, she confides, "Ah pues, nothing really…I just was wondering if the handsome agent de la DEA would go. I've not had a social occasion that would make sense to have more than 'hi' and 'bye' with him. And I'm hoping to get a chance to talk more."

Surprised, your brows arch and you whisper interestedly, "Really?! Which agent?"

Getting smiley, Olga busily stirs the little straw in her coffee cup as she answers sincerely, "Nicolás López. Es tan lindo, y buena gente. Su sonrisa me encanta. We've only ever done quick greetings from seeing each other around on the campus. One of the other admins who works in the DEA office told me his name."

Tickled with delight, you gush, "Oh, Nic is a sweetheart. I'm not sure he'll be there, but if he is, I'll introduce you both!"

As she excitedly peppers you with questions about the scrappy-yet-handsome agent, Javier is stalking across the bullpen within the field office, still annoyed from earlier and wondering if he's going to have to personally kick Bozzi's door in after all. As he rounds the corner towards his and Steve's shared office space, Segarra pokes his head out from the doorless room he's made into his office and rushes over to greet him halfway, with a legal pad in hand.

In no mood, Javi doesn't slow down his pace, but does acknowledge the younger man with a curt nod and tries not to project his aggravation when Segarra falls into step beside him. "Good morning, sir. I was just about to call you. I finally heard back from my counterpart at FBI. Our co-op request was approved—"

That has Javi skidding to a halt right inside his office before he swiftly gestures for Segarra to come in and close the door. Once the ambitious man has done so, and Javi's braced himself by leaning into the edge of his desk with his hands propped on either side so he can keep his fingers from fidgeting impatiently, he deadpans, "Castellano confirmed it just now?"

"Yes, sir. He said Agent Bozzi signed off," Segarra replies in his raspy tenor, holding up his legal pad as he dictates the details. "However he insisted on running an op drill with our guys and theirs, and booked the facility in Aguadilla for tomorrow at 1500—"

"What? For 3:00pm tomorrow?" Javi interrupts, crossing his arms and cocking a curious brow. "Why so late in the day?"

"It's the time that works best for Agent Bozzi, sir," Segarra explains as he flips to the next page and lists off more of the coordinated details while Javi scowls and listens.

After confirming a few things with his ASAC, going over other outstanding agency business, and signing off on some reports, Javi grabs his desk phone and dials Steve's line at the Federal building.

"Agent Murphy."

"Guess who magically agreed to the co-opt, and scheduled an op drill for tomorrow afternoon," Javi grouses as he plops down into his desk chair.

Steve grunts wryly. "Sounds like you pushed the right buttons successfully this morning at the meeting, then."

Scoffing as if unconvinced, Javi leans into his chair and mutters, "Segarra is going to pull the guys together and brief them. It's gonna be at a base about an hour away, on the northwest coast."

"So what you're saying is, you're currently free to come to the barbershop during lunch with Rose and me to get haircuts for tomorrow night?" Steve quips.

Running his fingers through his unruly curls along his crown and down the back of his head, Javi glowers as he admits, "Shit, I have been due for a trim. Just haven't had the time."

"Well, Ellis vouched for a place in Hato Rey. Meet us downstairs in 20 minutes?"

"Sure. See you then," Javi agrees before hanging up and glancing at his watch. Deciding you were most likely too busy for him to call and check in, he collects his things and heads down to the parking garage.

By the time he pulls up to the carport in front of the federal building, Steve and Ellis are coming out of the building, so Javi flags them down and gestures for them to just hop into his car. Steve gets into the front passenger seat and Ellis sits behind him in the backseat as they exchange greetings with Javi before snapping their seatbelts on.

"—Take a right outside of the gate," Ellis instructs, playing navigator for a few blocks before Javi is cruising down the busy avenue en route towards the financial district of the metropolitan area. "I know a lot where we can park for free, so take a left at the next boulevard. Anyway, how long were you saying you got the babysitter for tomorrow night?" he pivots back to the idle conversation, directing the question to Steve.

"Only until 10pm. Connie works with the girl's mom at the V.A. and the lady's pretty strict, so she doesn't like her out until late, even on a weekend. So we'll have to head home by 9:30, at the latest," Steve answers while he fiddles with the car radio.

Smacking Steve's hand from continuing to skip the dial across channels, Javi hits the preset button for the radio station he saved after seeing it was your go-to channel in your car. Magic 97.3 is in the middle of playing a Prince single he knows you love, so he smirks as he remarks offhandedly, "Can't you get another sitter? Or bribe the kid to stay late?"

"Remind me not to let my girls babysit for you in the future," Steve razzes dryly to him and glances at Ellis in the reflection of the rearview mirror. "That's the one thing I miss about Miami. Connie's sister lived nearby, and was always great with babysitting them for us. Ah, that reminds me. Did I tell you I'm planning to take Connie away for her birthday weekend?" he asks and taps Javi on the arm with the back of his hand, getting his attention from where he was distractedly looking around for an empty space in the lot Ellis had pointed him to while Steve had been talking. "I'm flying her sister down and surprising her with the trip. She'd only trust family to stay with the kids that long. But keep it secret—"

"Secret even from the wives?" Ellis cuts in, being terrible at keeping secrets and wanting to make sure he knew how secretive he needed to be.

"Careful. Don't wanna give Jav a heart attack here, throwing that around so cavalierly—" Steve begins to jibe.

"You are a relentless pain in the ass, you know that?" Javi derides acerbically as he zooms into the parking spot tucked around the bend before the car across from him could beat him to it. "I told you, I'm working on it—"

"You are going at a molasses pace, bud, is all I'm sayin'. Especially with the other suitors swaggerin' about," Steve heckles, earning an eye roll from Javi and for Ellis to do the male version of perking up his ears for gossip.

Javi catches himself and stows his tempestuous jealousy with a gruff exhale before he could lose his cool. Putting on his favorite sunglasses, he shuts the engine and clarifies, "That's a singular suitor, who is a wannabe suitor, and a stupid prick. Now, you two hillbillies get out of the car."

"If you're going to insult me, at least be correct with your insults. I'm a redneck, not a hillbilly, cabrón," Ellis sarcastically derides as he snaps his seatbelt off and exits the vehicle.

"He's got you there, pendejo," Steve jokes as he opens his door and hops out.

Snorting, Javi follows suit and locks the car before falling into step with the two gringos.

"When are you two gonna learn more than Spanish swear words, pray tell?" he hazes, earning huffy excuses from the two men as they head into the barbershop.

By the end of the workday, you're on the way out of the federal campus to meet the girls at the mall, eager to get what you all need so you can rush home and get ready to go do the class with Javi. Mercifully traffic is cooperative and you're able to find a space close to the main general entry point of the sprawling building with enough time to stride towards the JCPenney entrance. The shopping center was bustling, but not overcrowded, so you're able to stride at a brisk pace, making it through the concourse to the large department store's entry and spotting Connie sitting on a nearby bench and sorting through her purse.

"Hey! Have you been waiting long?" you greet as you lean down to kiss her hello on the cheek.

"Not at all! I got here a few minutes ago. I had cut out a page from the store catalogue this month, and I thought I had put it in my purse, but can't find it," she tells you as she gives up on the search and stands when she spots Anita and waves her over.

"Hi! Sorry I'm late. I couldn't find a parking spot," Anita greets and explains as she exchanges hello hugs and kisses on the cheek with you both.

You spend the next hour scouring the store for elegant cocktail dress options with the girls, helping Anita decide between the burgundy A-line dress and the emerald wrap dress, spotting a dress that resembles the description of the one Connie had seen in the catalogue and proceeding to coax her into getting it even though it was sexier than she'd expected on her.

"—I don't know. Isn't it too low cut in the front?" she frets as she continues to hold it up in front of herself in the nearby mirror while Anita peruses a clothing rack.

"Totally, but it's tasteful, I swear," you tease her, and she snickers and shakes her blonde hair out at your silly tone. "Mine is way riskier – lower cut, and short, but I'm still wearing it, so c'mon, don't leave me as the only one pushing the sexy envelope."

Connie laughs, "Alright, fine. And it is on sale, so—"

"So try it on tonight in front of Steve and see if his eyes bug out or not. If they do, definitely wear it to the gala," Anita quips with impish charm, purse swinging merrily at her side while she holds her dress folded over her forearm as she wiggles her brows cheekily.

After shopping a bit more through the department store, you manage to also find a set of workout clothes for Javier in the Men's section while Anita picks up a pocket square and necktie for Ellis. Once you've all made your purchases at the customer service counter, the girls accompany you to the shoe boutique you like a few minutes later, and help you decide between the chic black pumps and the strappy stilettos. "—I like them both, but these are more for clubbing," you finally decide as you sit back down and remove each from your feet while telling the store clerk that you'd be taking the pumps.

"Oh, are you wearing pantyhose, or stockings?" Anita asks as she admires a pair of gold sandals.

"No, going bare-legged. I hate wearing pantyhose," you retort as you go to the register to pay for the purchase. "Did you guys want to stop by anywhere else before we go?"

"No, I have to rush to the mercado before I head home," Anita replies and collects her shopping bag from the couch.

"Steve's probably getting home now, so I gotta get there before Olivia convinces him to have waffles for dinner again," Connie comically sighs as she shoulders her purse and balances her store bag from one hand to the other while you all chuckle at the idea of little Olivia cajoling her pushover of a dad.

After you all say goodbye in the central promenade of the mall, you part ways in different directions, and you hustle to your car to navigate your way home through the evening traffic.

You're completely unaware that you're being watched as you place your shopping bag in your backseat before getting in on the driver's side.

No, you're so preoccupied with thinking of the gala tomorrow, and how much you're looking forward to having your first very public night out with Javier – where everyone in your professional lives will see for themselves that you both are together and much in love, that you don't sense the stare from afar.

By the time you make it home, you're rushing to get upstairs and get ready for the class, so you don't bother with stopping at your mailbox before heading up to your apartment, and are barely through the door before you toss your things onto the bar top counter and shut the door while reaching to hit the button the answering machine when you see the red light blinking that you had messages.

While the machine begins to recite the date and time of the first message, you run down the hall to your bedroom as you strip your blouse off and work the zipper down on your skirt.

"Good afternoon. This is Dr. Salinas checking in to see how you're feeling, and to see when you'd like to schedule your next physical. Give the office a call if there's anything you'd like to discuss. Thank you, goodbye."

You grunt thoughtfully at that, making a mental note to call the office in the morning, while you chuck your work outfit into the hamper and grab for the yoga leggings and top you set out this morning. The machine dictates the receipt date and time of the next voicemail before the sound of dead air echoes from the living room before the caller hangs up without leaving a message.

Pausing at the dresser quizzically, you feel a sense of déjà vu come over you before continuing to brush your hair up into a neat bun. That's like, the third time someone calls and doesn't leave a voicemail—

The sound of a key being slipped into the front door's lock sounds before it opens and you hear Javi's dress shoed steps enter over the final drone of the answering machine announcing the end of messages.

"I'm home," he calls out before the jangle of his keys clatter on the counter and his footfalls approach the hall.

"Perfect timing!" you exclaim when you glance at the alarm clock and see he was true to his word, smiling as you put on the stretchy headband to keep your hair slick back and out of your face. "I just got home a couple of minutes ago—" you're saying as you turn towards him when he enters the bedroom, before gasping. "Aw, you cut your hair?"

Javi experimentally runs his hand over his trimmed hair, tossing his gym bag to the corner by the chair. His brows are knitting together ambivalently as he frowns and asks, "Yeah, does it look bad?"

Internally swooning, your mind flashes to how he'd looked the first time you saw him back in Bogotá – when he'd returned to be the DEA attaché. How dashing he looked with his trimmed, and suavely-combed hair. His hair now is not much shorter than it'd been then. Truly, he looks deliciously debonair, but his expectant look communicates otherwise, so you stride towards him and loop your hands around his shoulders as you get on your tippy toes to kiss him reassuringly before extolling, "You always look handsome, you dork. I'm just gonna miss playing with your rizos, is all."

Scoffing, he smirks down at you before squeezing you affectionately to him and kissing you cheekily as he grouses with daring, "I got something else you can play with—"

Humorously swatting his rump, you giggle, "Beyako. Naughty talk later. Hurry up and get dressed," and pull him towards the bed where you placed the shopping bag, digging into it and pulling out the soft shirt and comfortable joggers you bought him. "I wasn't sure you'd have anything to wear for yoga, so I got these."

"Thanks, querida," he croons and kisses your cheek before starting to undo his tie and unbutton his collar while he leers appreciatively down at your formfitting workout ensemble. The halter top-styled purple and black sports bra has your cleavage looking delectably snug, while the skin-hugging black yoga leggings made your ass look round and plump – begging to be caressed greedily by his hands. "Mmm, I was envisioning you in a leotard and leg warmers, but this is much hotter."

Snickering as you brush by him to retrieve your sneakers from the closet, you muse flirtatiously, "I figured you'd approve of it since you'd be my yoga buddy. Now, hurry it up, mister."

With a twinkle in his eye, Javi chuckles before he quickly strips and gets ready.

Soon you're driving to the building that houses the workout studios, and lead the way up to the floor where the evening class is scheduled. Storing your gym bags in the cubbies along the sidewall of the studio, you're chatting with Javier about the little rituals most yoga teachers use to start and progress the session while he looks around and catalogues the large room and the other attendees whilst you both remove your sneakers and socks to be placed in the shelves.

"Well, mira quien es!"

Pausing to turn, you're surprised to see Zoraida standing smug and statuesque in her workout outfit and her pink yoga mat rolled up and tucked in her arm.

"Ah! What're you doing here?! You don't normally do the night class—" you remark as you two exchange a hug and kiss on the cheek hello.

"I don't, but I've had day shoots and gigs all week, and this is the only time I could get in a workout before the weekend," she explains before bouncing her brows knowingly at you and gesturing towards Javi with a nod of her head. "And I take it this is your jevo, Javi?"

Feeling a wave of pride fill him, Javier steps forward to greet your friend with a handshake and kiss to the cheek. "Mucho gusto. It's great to finally meet you. I've heard great things—"

"And I've heard lots of things about you," Zoraida cuts in glibly as she sizes Javi up the way a discerning poker player would. "Like how overprotective you are of my dear friend, so what – are you here to take the class too, or just to keep an eye on her—?"

"Zory!" you admonishingly decry, glaring at her for doing her super bad cop routine right now.

Unfazed, Javi reassuringly caresses the small of your back with his palm while returning Zoraida's unflinching stare to answer matter-of-factly, "Celina doesn't need anyone to keep an eye on her, but I'll admit I was looking forward to staring at her and trying to follow along with the class. Although if she does that downward dog pose in front of me, I can't say I wouldn't consider spiriting her away to somewhere private."

You blush girlishly at that and swat his chest with the back of your hand as you hiss, "Javier!"

Zory cracks a smile and relaxes her stance to approvingly gesture as she quips, "Ok, he's passing the trial…for now."

Rolling your eyes as you derisively snicker, you take Javi's hand and lead him over to the back of the room to get a yoga mat, offering a, "You two are incorrigible," over your shoulder as you go, earning a smirk from Javi and for Zoraida to shoot him a conspiratorial wink.

Once the class starts, Javi is able to follow along for the first few poses, and watches you and Zory expertly match in stances with little effort as you stand side by side in front of him. By the time he gets to tree pose, though, he finds himself wobbling to try and not lose his balance and stick out like a sore thumb in the class.

"Here, center your weight and keep your back straight," is the sudden instruction from the vivacious male teacher Javier hadn't noticed work his way around the room towards him before placing his hands on Javier's hips to align his stance. "There, much better! Remember to engage your core to stay centered, everyone."

You peek over your shoulder and bite your lip to stifle the smile seeing Javi in the tree pose looking bashful has threatening to crest your features with mirth. When he catches your glance, he glowers goofily at you and mouths, 'Mala.'

Blowing a kiss at him for calling you 'Bad girl,' you turn and snicker at Zory when she hums, "¿Te tiene suelta como gabete, eh?"

"Zory, cállate," you hiss back, and when she just gives you a mocking look, you whisper, "And yes, he does."

She stifles her simpering laugh and pays attention to the instructor's next directive.

Javier watches you and Zoraida whisper teasingly at each other and smiles, happy to see you enjoying the carefree moment with your friend. So when it finally comes to the downward dog position, he recites the mantra, Don't be a perv. Don't be a perv. Don't stare at her glorious ass too long, while trying to do the pose and not ogle you rapaciously. While he does so, he's too distracted to notice Zoraida covertly watching him from her position, and pleasantly noticing how he doesn't have eyes for anyone else but you, and how obviously eager he is to impress you.

It was then and there that Javier had passed her real test.

"Namasté, everyone."

When the class ends, and you stand from the final pose and bow in respect, you turn and smile at Javi, winking at him when he exhales in relief and wipes the back of his hand along his sweaty brow. You quickly collect your mat and roll it back up to pin it to your side before going to him and asking, "Well? Not too hard, right?"

Thankful that the joggers you bought him were dark and camouflaged his lower half well, Javi kneels to roll up his mat as he answers quippingly, "Nope, not bad at all. As for hard? That's another story."

You gasp and squeeze his shoulder in playful retaliation, hissing kittenishly, "Behave, you."

"I'm trying, bravita," he dramatically mutters and stands, taking your rolled up matt and dutifully returning it with his own to where they're stored before loping back to the cubbies with you.

"After freshening up, you two wanna grab a smoothie downstairs?" Zoraida queries as she retrieves her gym tote and finishes putting her sneakers on.

"Sure. I'll be quick, querida," is Javi's easygoing reply before he kisses your cheek and takes his bag with him to the men's locker room.

You piningly watch him go, and Zory puts her hands on her hips and stares amusedly until you remember yourself and quickly grab your things.

"You got it baaaaad, girl."

"Yes, I do. And I'm not even mad about it anymore, so deja el relajo."

A short while later, the three of you are entering the trendy smoothie shop that's on the ground floor of the building, and since it was busy, Javi suggested grabbing the table he spotted in the back before going up to the counter to order. Having changed into clean clothes, Javi was checking you out – loving how effortlessly gorgeous you looked in the black spandex bike shorts and oversized tie-dye sweatshirt. And he was thankful that he had a clean pair of dark running shorts in his bag.

"Alright, what would you ladies like? My treat," is his charming offer, already rebuffing your attempt to argue by pulling your chair for you and assuring, "Nada de eso. I got it. What smoothie do you want?"

Relenting, you tell him, "The all-berry one. And Zory's favorite is the tropical citrus one."

"Coming right up," he croons and walks over to make the line.

"Nena," Zory whispers to grab your attention, and when you look at her with expectant eyes, she singsongs in Spanish, "That man is fine."

Suppressing a grin, you sass, "I told you."

"Me cae bien, fíjate. And I can see him holding his own with your dad, so hopefully you'll introduce them soon since I get the feeling your jevo wants to make you his wife—" she boasts amusingly, earning your scoff and idle dismissive wave. "I'm serious. Have you considered it?"

"Marriage?!" you whisper aloofly.

"No. Letting him meet your dad. Pero yeah – if you were gonna marry anyone—"

"Shhh!" you shush when she says it a little too loud and you notice Javi glance over from where he waits at the counter now. He winks at you, and you smile, wrinkling your nose goofily at him, and already pining to yank that grey t-shirt off of him. "As a matter of fact, I did agree to a sort of dinner thing with my dad. He suggested it, and mentioned that Javier was invited. I just haven't mentioned it to him yet," you confide, glancing back at her when she hums in surprise. "I mean, you know how it is. I don't want to set expectations until I'm sure it's the right thing – putting him through that hassle."

"Something tells me he wouldn't think it a hassle at all," Zoraida offers sagely as she runs her fingers through her ponytail. "I say, go for it."

You're about to respond in the contrary when Javier walks back to the table with three large smoothie cups he places down, sliding one to Zory and another towards you before sitting next to you.

"Here you go. Let me know if it's right," he remarks as he puts the straw in his own cup and takes a sip, humming in approval.

"What flavor did you get?" you ask before taking a sip of yours.

"The strawberry and banana one," he tells you before stealing a sip from your cup. "Mmm, that's good too."

Laughing, you snicker, "I know, chavón. Let me have a sip of yours."

He slides the cup over to you, and while you sip, he asks Zoraida, "So, is it true that you two used to sneak out to parties when you were teens?"

"Yes. We've known each other the longest of all the girls. We were each other's alibis with our parents. 'I'm sleeping over at Celina's this weekend,' was all I had to say. My parents admired hers and they thought she was a goody two shoes," Zoraida answers charmingly before drinking her smoothie.

You squint at her when Javi hums intriguingly. "See, she's a charlatán, because she was the one with the good girl rep," you parry back and earn Javi's raised brows and pursed lipped mueca. "I was good at school, but had a bad attitude, according to most—"

"Yeah, and our parents were all come mierdas, so as long as we behaved and kept up appearances when it was crucial, we got the leeway we needed," Zoraida concedes, not wanting to lead the convo into darker edges of your shared pasts. "Anyway, so is it true you came down here just to get her back?"

"Zory!" you jeer grumpily at her, to Javi's unshaken amusement.

"I did."

"And what're your long-term intentions?"

"Zoraida—"

"I want to earn back everything we'd been working towards. Getting a place together, meeting our families, having our lives fit together—"

"You're gonna have to get through a few more steps before any of that, just so you know," Zoraida insists rather smugly, adding, "Tayra and Naida will have to sign off on you—"

"Ok, you're being ridiculous now," you interject, getting peeved.

Javier senses there's something underlying about the conversation, so he reassures, "It's fine, querida—"

"Look, I'm the really blunt one of our quartet, so I'll just come out and say it: I fell for the charms of the last guy Celina was head over heels for, and us three girls will not make that mistake again. We're very protective of her, and after all she's been through, we want to make sure she's with someone who deserves her," Zoraida states a little sharper than she'd intended, and sees your incredulous stare before you relax your features into that stoic, impartial regard that comes over you as a way to shield yourself. "I—I'm sorry. I don't mean any disrespect."

"None taken," Javi replies, leaning close to you so he can put his arm consolingly around your shoulders. "I'm happy that she has so many people who love and protect her. She deserves the world, so all I can say is, that I will do everything I have to in order to prove I'm worthy of her, and intend to earn the trust of everyone important in her life," is his baritone declaration, and when you glance up at him in awe, he genuinely smiles and kisses your temple before saying without frills, "I love her with all my heart. And she can do with me whatever she wants. I can take it."

It's the perfect thing to say that sparks the break in tension, earning a cleansing laugh from you and a relieve chuckle from Zoraida. "Well, I'm satisfied," she exclaims before dramatically toasting her cup with his, and saluting, "You've cleared your first judge. Good luck advancing through the trials of Celina, and thanks for the smoothie."

To say it was a rollercoaster of feelings that the conversation took you on would be an understatement, so you were thankful to wrap up the outing with your friend and head home with Javier.

As you drive, you find yourself rambling, "I'm really sorry about that. She's always been the super bad cop of the group, and sometimes she goes way too far and crosses the line, but she doesn't really mean to—"

"Mi amor, it's ok. I kind of enjoyed the verbal sparring," Javi assures you, eyeing your sheepish grimace. "I swear, I didn't mind it."

"Well, I did," you admit, concentrating on driving. "I do not like being under inquisition."

He reaches over and caresses his hand along your thigh. "I know you don't. So from now on, I'll take it, and you just need to let it play out. You don't need to defend me—"

You've just pulled up to the gate of your building and pause in putting in the code to glare imperiously over at him. "I know I don't need to defend you. I want to defend you, especially from my nosy, rude friends who think disrespecting you is a way to suss out whether you're a horrible jerk or not," you huff and punch in the code before rolling up your window.

Javi can tell you're getting worked up, so he flattens his lips to keep from saying what he wants.

You see it from the corner of your eye, so once the gate has opened and you can cruise down to your spot, you tell him impertinently, "Don't even try clamming up now. Go ahead and say what you were thinking, Javi."

His brow furrows dubiously at that, but he waits for you to park in your spot and turn the car off before he pivots towards you and husks, "I was thinking that you should let the people who know you and care about you protect you, even from yourself, which is what it sounded like Zoraida was hinting at. I didn't take offense to it because I know my intentions and how I've fucked up countless times before, so having someone who cares about you hold me to a standard isn't unreasonable. It's what I would want for you. And I'm up for the challenge of proving myself. But you're taking it as a critique of your judgment. I know feeling like someone is criticizing your past decisions can make you feel insulted, but I don't think it was meant that way."

Absorbing that, you wilt back into the seat, pensive. Javi thinks he's really hit a nerve in you, so he's about to apologize when you turn and stare into his dark brewed eyes with blazing conviction gleaming in yours.

"No. I resented her line of questioning of you, because I've made it clear to her and the others that the way I feel about you is different than I've ever felt about anyone else. So her pulling that shit earlier really ticked me off," you rationalize in a cool, yet firm timbre. At his hapless stare, you narrow your gaze and sass, "I guess it bears repeating: You are the love of my life, and I do not take kindly to anyone, no matter how much they mean to me, disparaging you in any way. Even if they think they're just being protective. I know what I feel, and what I want. And I trust you, so they should respect that. And so should you, dammit."

Astonished, Javi sits there with a dopy, smitten expression, so you scoff and lean over to kiss him, bossily grabbing him by the front of his shirt and tugging him forward to meet you halfway.

The kiss is electric. It's teeming with the static cling of tension, but scintillating with the simmering desire you both have for each other and have been intensely bottling up all evening.

As the make-out session gets more torrid, the windows begin to fog up, and the warmth inside the car has both your senses honing in on each other. The way his scent is spicy and heady, how the heat of your arousal gives away how wet and needy you are for him, the way his pulse is racing as his hands fondle you covetously while his ravenous tongue sweeps into your mouth to duel with yours.

Just as he glides his hand down to caress between your thighs, you gasp and drag your mouth to suckle his bottom lip before grazing your blunt teeth over the pillowy morsel and snickering, "Ah! Not here, fresco."

The molten, searing stare he gives you while his expression etches in surly desire makes your pulse skip, then shoot aching want between your thighs when he growls, "Get upstairs. Now."

Oh, how you missed this ridiculous game.

The order sends a salacious charge down your body and has you acting before you could even think. You're out of the driver's side with the car and house keys in your hand before it's even registered, and you're sprinting up to the lobby and rushing up the stairs before you've realized you left your gym bag in the backseat with Javi's. It'd been hardwired to do as he said, and you were aflutter with anticipation as you sprint up the flights of stairs, which was making you buzz anxiously. So much so, you drop the keys at one point and struggle to double back and scoop them up before resuming your sprint.

Just as you make it to your floor, you hear the distant ding of the elevator arriving at the lobby, so you squeak and hurry to cross the loggia corridor towards your apartment door. You fumble with the keys, missing slipping the lock's key in twice before you manage to unlock it and open the door. As you're yanking the key out, you hear the elevator arrive on your floor, and you excitedly dash into the apartment, closing the door haphazardly because of how hastily you toss the keys to the counter so you can yank your sneakers off and remove your socks in order to sprint easily on the tiled floor. But before you can make a run to your bedroom, Javier is breezing through the door with both gym bags in hand and a surly look that promised lasciviousness wherever he saw fit to indulge you in when he got his hands on you.

"Ven acá," he orders in that honeyed husk that drags over a roughened, commanding pitch as he tosses the gym bags aside and gestures 'Come here' to you.

The mischievous laugh bubbles up in you before you daringly dash away and run down the hall. You don't make it beyond the guest bedroom door though before Javier's gained on you and swept you up against him, earning a gleeful squeal from you.

"You little traviesa," he purrs puckishly as he pins you to the wall and slips his hands up your sweatshirt before pulling it up your torso and yanking it off you. "Do you know how fucking hard I've been?! How worked up you got me bending over like that in the class—?!"

"It was the pose! I didn't do anything sexy—" is your giggled counter as you grab his grey shirt and tug it up to pull it off for him. But as soon as his shirt is off, Javi grabs you by your hips and spins you around to be pinned with your hands to the wall. Your voice cracks and an excited sound slips from your lips as he unhooks your bra with one hand while the other yanks down your bottoms – bike shorts and panties peeling down your thighs before swiftly getting discarded once he kneels behind you to strip them off. Just as you're about to whine for him that he was being silly, Javi fondles a hand to grip the curve of your waist and spanks your bare left buttock with his other hand.

The needy whimper you make has him throbbing in his pants, but he wants to rile you up into begging for more. So, he runs one hand up your spine soothingly while the hand that spanked you caresses the smooth skin of your derrière as he croons, "I could make out the contour of your pussy through the leggings when you bent over. Wanted to run my tongue along your seam, right then and there—"

"Ja-Javi," you mewl and quiver with desire, blindly shedding your bra, which had you removing your hands from the wall and reaching backwards. It's an unconscious need to touch him as a way to ground yourself – of needing to still feel in control and like you weren't falling into chaos, so your fingers brush his shoulders before he hums warningly at you.

"Put your hands against the wall, malcriada."

Your palms are against the cool surface before you even realize the motion, and you can feel the apples of your cheeks burn as you stifle a whine by biting your lower lip.

He's buzzing with primal pride at how eager and compliant you're being, because he knows it means you're beyond turned on and desperate for him. So, he decides to instigate you.

With a possessive touch, Javi gropes his hand down from your waist to your mound before teasingly caressing your pussy. You gasp and rut against his fingers, beyond aroused, so Javi grazes his lips just above the cleft of your backside before growling in a sinful pitch, "Quit whining, or I won't give you what you want, you spoiled little minx—"

Hackles rising at that, you defiantly arch your back and sass in a reedy tone, "Do you know what I want, querido?" and shoot him a devious glance over your shoulder.

Pleased by your audacious comeback, Javi spanks your ass and recedes his fingers from teasing your dripping cunt. You mewl and shiver, knees becoming wobbly as he stands and swiftly boxes you in from behind before possessively cupping his large hand below your jaw so he can crane your countenance up to his, pinning you into place with his smoldering dark coffee gaze.

"You want your naughty ass dominated," is his velvet-over-steel rumble, eyeing you ravenously as he glides his thumb from your jaw to your chin before dragging the pad to trace the plump flesh of your bottom lip.

Not to be outdone, your gaze becomes alluring as you sultrily demand, "Then fucking dominate me, papisongo."

The deviant thrill that crests up through him is fierce, so much so he spins you around and picks you up by your waist to pin your back against the wall before he unceremoniously shoves his bottoms down his hips enough to free his throbbing manhood and guide you down onto it while he plunges up into your silken heat.

You anchor your arms to loop his shoulders and wrap your legs around his waist as he fucks you against the wall, expertly making you melt down into primal ecstasy and plucking cries of delight from you. The snap of his hips and the strength of his hold on you has you desperate for the bliss that begins to crescendo up, promising blistering gratification as your climax builds. So when Javi coos, "My sweet girl. Feel you getting close—" you whimper and nuzzle your pleading whines into his neck. And Javi answers you by angling his next thrusts to slam home into that delicate cluster of nerves deep inside your molten sheath, which propels you off the proverbial cliff to fall into rapturous completion.

"Javi!" you cry out before losing yourself to the carnal glory as your walls strangle around his throbbing cock.

It steals his breath, seeing you come apart so fiercely, and when you desperately cling to him and ride the wave of pleasure, you mindlessly bite the warm sloping muscle that connects his delectable neck to his broad shoulders before suckling hard on it.

The sound he makes is raw need and makes you ravenous, so when he fucks wantonly into you, only gasping cries of 'Yes-Yes-Yes!' ramble from your mouth as he barrels into you just before his hips stutter and he climaxes on a hoarse groan.

Shakily, he holds you both up against the wall as his release fills your pulsing heat, gasping and panting gruffly against your shoulder before nuzzling your cheek. You're just as fucked out whilst clinging to his broad frame, but your thighs are trembling from the effort of staying clung to him so, and you greedily wanting to keep him nestled deep inside of you.

With a hearty exhale, Javi nudges his head affectionately against you and husks, "Well…I kept my core engaged…guess I learned something after all."

You laugh breathily and lovingly kiss his warm, smiling features.

A short while later, you're both lounging in the warm bubble bath together, enjoying how the water soothes your aching muscles and relaxes the post coital fatigue from your satisfied sinew. You were still giggling at how silly it was that Javier had stripped you naked and kept his bottoms and sneakers on, and he was kneading his fingers in massaging presses along your curves while snickering his rationale.

"—I wasn't going to waste time kicking them off. Not with how quick you are descalza."

"You looked so funny standing in the hall with just your sneakers on—"

"And who's fault is that?"

"Mine, and I feel no guilt, bebito—"

"Ah-hah, keep giggling, loquita—"

You simper a taunting chuckle at that, so he scoops a big puff of bubbles and plops it on your head in a goofy crown of suds, causing you to laugh effervescently and splash him before he grins and pinches your butt under the water.

With a soft snicker, you brush the crown of bubbles off as you settle to cuddle into his side under the warm soapy water before you kiss his cheek and sigh, "That was amazing, Javi."

Smiling, he glides his hand along the length of your side under the water, grunting, "Yeah. Yoga's hot."

A silly snort comes out of you before you shift to rest more comfortably against him so you can caress your warm, wet fingertips along his brow, brushing them soothingly along his forehead when he closes his eyes and exhales a relaxing breath through his nose.

"Not as hot as you," is your sincere flirtation, enjoying how his eyes flutter and he groans contrarily. "C'mon, guapetón. You know I'm smitten with your sexy ass."

He chuckles at that and stares sweetly at you. "I do. Luckily, I feel the same," he purrs and gives you a smug look.

"You better," is your sassy coo before leaning in to peck him on the lips, then dip your fingertips into the water and flick droplets teasingly at him. "So tomorrow night, I'm going to get ready at Jodalys' place. Do you need me to iron any of your clothes?"

"I got it handled, querida. Don't worry," he replies coolly before scrubbing his hand down his face. "Oh, we finally got that co-op signed off on, so tomorrow we're going to be in Aguadilla for a training exercise. I should be back in time to get ready here and pick you up at her place, if you want."

Nodding, you idly trace your touch along his chest as you ask, "Are any of the guys going to attend the gala?" When he raises his brows curiously, you elaborate, "So, Olga happened to mention today that she's hoping to get a chance to socialize with Nic. I wasn't sure if he or any of your guys would be free to attend. Especially now if that operation is going to happen."

"The invite went to everyone, but I don't know if Lopez or Duff were planning on going. I'll ask 'em tomorrow," he answers thoughtfully before asking, "How was shopping with the girls?"

"Great. We each found what we needed for tomorrow night. I'm really looking forward to the night out," you tell him, smiling when he hums and quirks his lips goadingly. "What?"

"Nothing. Just wondering what sexy lingerie you're gonna have on under your dress," he remarks nonchalantly and gives a one-shouldered shrug.

"Ah, well. Who said I plan to wear anything under my dress at all?" is your cavalier musing, mimicking his shrug.

"…You wouldn't dare."

"Oh, wouldn't I?"

"Querida—" he begins to grumble warningly, trying for stern, but the way you squint cunningly at him makes it clear you're only teasing, so he grunts, "All right, quit instigatin' me and get your pruny butt out of this bath, Ms. Namaste."

You both relish the shared nightly routine of getting ready for bed. While you do so, you mention to Javi about the plans for Sunday, telling him all about how you and your friends had been ring shopping helpers for Naida's soon-to-be fiancé. He listens and steals glances at you as you pull a big, well-worn Blondie tour shirt on before brushing your hair out in front of the mirror as you dish and appreciatively glance at your boxer-brief-clad stud.

"—I have a nice bottle of bourbon for him, and a registry preset for her at the chic homeware boutique she loves, so now it's just waiting to see which of our ring selections he chose," you're recapping as you pull the quilt away so you can slip under it while Javi shuts the hall light off and saunters in to the side of the bed closest to the door. Fluffing the pillows, you musingly query, "So you'll be in Aguadilla most of the day tomorrow?"

"No, just in the afternoon. I have meetings to go over logistics and bank financials. Lawyers for some of the banks are stonewalling us, so I have to deal with that while Steve keeps an eye on things. He'll be at the federal building office most of the day," Javi replies in a relaxed baritone as he slips under the covers with you and switches the lamp off. Slinking up to wrap his forearm around your waist so he can pull you close, he nuzzles your jaw and croons, "Mmm, you smell good, rockerita. No sexy little batita tonight?"

Snickering, you nudge him to lie back so you can cuddle into his side as you lilt, "All my nice nighties are at your place or in the hamper, suavón!"

He grunts wryly and settles comfortably in bed with you. You contentedly kiss his cheek and nestle up against him, arm slung across his chest to idly caress the contour of his deltoid while you relax and begin to doze off to the breezy sounds sifting through the room and the strong thrum of his heartbeat.

"Goodnight, hermoso."

He grunts coolly, the exhaustion of the workout class and the torrid romp in the hallway making him easily succumb to sleep, head lulled on the pillow while you snuggle to rest yours on his shoulder.

When you both rise early the next morning, you shower together, and while he gets dressed, you whip up a nice breakfast for you both to share while stood at the kitchen counter to eat so you can quickly savor the coffee while multitasking finishing getting ready for the busy day.

Straightening the knot of his silver and blue tie for him, you rise to your tippy toes to peck him on the lips before drawling, "Good luck dealing with FBI today. I hope the drill goes well."

Snorting he caresses your waist and holds you close so he can give you a soulful look while he smirks and deadpans, "I'm gonna need it, considering I just want to deck the guy—"

"Nada de eso, mi amor," you tut sarcastically and give him a faux chiding pout as you harp, "It shouldn't bare repeating that he's an asshat you shouldn't get jealous over, but since you're so terco, I'll just remind you that if you get in a dust up with him and end up needing to be bailed out, I will be really mad at you."

Relenting, Javi grouses, "Yeah…and you'd be right to be pissed. I won't start anything, cariño. I promise."

With an exacting smile, you caress his hair and purr, "Good boy."

The flare of want darkens his coffee-brewed irises just before he impishly pulls you against him so he can kiss you breathless.

Pulling away suddenly to break the kiss, he smugly grunts when you chase his lips and end up blushing. "You be a good girl and have a great day at work, preciosa," he husks before stealing a cheeky peck and grabbing his keys from the counter, shooting you a debonair wink before he breezes out the apartment door.

Letting out a flustered huff, you coax your arousal to simmer down as you rush to finish getting ready.

As you're heading out to start your work commute, you don't know that your day will be a tumult of unexpected turmoil, nor that Javi will be both at the mercy of said turmoil and the perpetuator of it. No, only the excited anticipation is what fills you up, leaving you unprepared for what's to come.

  ________________

Spanish-English Glossary:

Querida/querido = Affectionate term, akin to expressing one's want and desire

Mi amor = My love

Ay, por favor = Oh, please

Jevo = Puerto Rican slang for boyfriend

Amigo = Friend; buddy

Chisme = Gossip

Pana = Puerto Rican slang for 'buddy' or friend

Guapito = Handsome (said in an affectionate diminutive)

Canela = Cinnamon

Chulo/Chulito = Cute guy; little cutie

Chingona = Mexican slang for bad ass woman

Dame un beso, gatita coqueta = Give me a kiss, you coquettish kitten

Tesoro = Treasure; darling

Mija = Short for mi hija, aka my daughter; my girl Pá. Cuídate = Dad. Take care

Preciosa = Gorgeous; precious

Fresco = a guy who's being 'fresh', or naughty/pervy

Mira quien habla = Look who's talking

Jefa = Boss lady

Dulzón = Sweetheart [male]

Puto cabrón =Fucking asshole

La Fortaleza = The Puerto Rican Governor's office and mansion; aka 'The Puerto Rican White House'

Chismeando = Gossiping around

Sangano = Puerto Rican slang for a man who's a fool; an idiot, moron or dummy

Galán = Handsome gent

Atrevido/Atrevida = Daring man/Daring woman

Malvadita = Wicked little girl

Mírame, hermosa = Look at me, beautiful

Beyaquito = Little naughty perv

Bravita= Tough girl; feisty girl

Señorita = Miss; little lady

Traviesa = Naughty/Mischievous girl Burlón = Joker; teaser

Cariño = Darling/sweetheart

Ah pues = Oh well

Es tan lindo, y buena gente. Su sonrisa me encanta = He's so cute and kind. I love his smile

Cabrón = Asshole

Pendejo = Dumbass/Jackass

Rizos = Curls (hair)

Beyako = Puerto Rican slang for horny/naughty guy; akin to "horn dog"

Mira quien es = Look who it is

Mucho gusto = Nice to meet you; Pleasure to meet you

Mala = Bad girl

¿Te tiene suelta como gabete, eh? = This is Puerto Rican slang that basically translates to 'He's got you uninhibited and free;' being loose and untethered like a untied shoelace

Cállate = Shut up

Deja el relajo = Cut the hassling

Nada de eso = None of that

Nena = Girl

Me cae bien, fíjate = I like him, mind you

Pero = But

Chavón = A man that's pestering you

Charlatán = Charlatan; Chatterbox

Muecas = Making faces; grimaces

Come mierdas = Literally translates to 'shit eaters' but as Puerto Rican slang, it refers to snobby people who are foolishly elitist, or think they're better than others

Ven acá = Come here

Malcriada/malcriado = Brat/spoiled

Papisongo = Puerto Rican slang for a very sexy man; a stud

Descalza = Barefoot [woman]

Bebito = Little baby (male)

Loquita = Crazy girl

Guapetón = Super handsome, good-looking guy

Rockerita = Rocker girl; Little rocker chick

Batita = Nightgown

Suavón = Smooth talker; Smooth guy

Terco = Stubborn [man]

Cariño = Darling/sweetheart

Thanks for reading! Please consider leaving a comment and sharing your feedback. I would be eternally grateful. 

[claws-and-all]

Unpopular opinions

Today’s been one of those days where all my least favorite theories regarding Tamlin have been popping up, so I thought I’d share some of my unpopular opinions in case anyone else feels the same.

1. Tamlin should not get his own book

From all the male povs we've seen thus far, it's evident that sjm struggles to write male characters with complex feelings. They tend to lack depth, have the libido of a teenager, and the romance aspect is nonexistent. This coupled with the way she handled Nesta's "healing" journey (a character she supposedly loves) - suffice to say, she will not do justice to Tamlin's journey nor his inner monolog.

On top of that, we don't need a Chaol 2.0 book. The only people I've seen enjoy Chaol's book are the haters who became slightly lenient towards him. I feel like that book was not meant for the fans who actually loved Chaol from the get-go (like me). It was yet another "healing" journey that did not heal him 😒 (it's been 7 years since it's release and I'm still mad at it 🙈).

Also, just like Tam, Chaol is another character that is hated by 90% of the fandom. His book had the worst timing. In-between a high stakes book where you NEEDED to know what happened next and instead, you're forced to read a book that took you completely out of the action. It garnered more negativity towards a character that was already so heavily hated upon. It was such an unfair thing that occurred, and his fans were the ones that had to deal with the backlash of our favorite character being torn apart by the fandom. I truly hope history does not repeat itself with Tamlin. The fandom is waiting for the elriel/elucien confirmation, and I can just see the hate pouring in if it's a book about Tamlin instead. He deserves infinitely better!

2. Tamlin and Lucien should never be friends again

I'm sorry, I know a lot of you love Lucien, I'm rather 50/50 on him. If elucien happens, it will mean Lucien is now a part of the NC family, bil to Rhys, friendly with the ic, uncle to Nyx, already friends with Nesta and Feyre. That's not the kind of energy Tamlin needs in his life nor the constant reminder of everything that he lost (Rhys is doing a fabulous job of that already).

I liked Lucien and Tamlin's relationship in book 1, but I was not a fan of how he kind of abandoned Tamlin for Feyre. It's like he became more her friend than Tams as the series progressed. I think Tamlin deserves a better friend - someone who will have his back and not his partners back. And someone not so heavily intertwined with a court that has caused so much pain to him. I can almost see Lucien slowly trying to convince Tam that the nc guys are actually "the good guys". Who knows, maybe he'll also pull a Feyre and compare Springs food to ash since nothing can come close to precious NC food, you know.

That being said, I have no idea where such friends will come from because every character we've met thus far automatically dislikes Tamlin and are fans of nc guys (still waiting for the explanation as to why Jurian, Vassa, Eris, and even Nuan are Tam haters?? Make it make sense, Sarah!).

Alternatively, I do love angst. I would love a storyline of Tamlin moving on with his life without Lucien. As in his future wife/mate/partner doesn't even know who Lucien is. Whilst Elucien is also thriving in the human lands/NC/DC/AC. Yet the entire time, they both feel like there's a missing piece in their life. They would see each other at HL meetings or balls. Yet they're too stubborn to speak to each other. Until decades later when one of them finally breaks the ice. The yearning and the hurt, love that shit lol

3. Tamlin x Briar?

Let’s keep that in the dark where it belongs. - nuff said!

4. Elain should not even look in the direction of Spring

Just because she likes gardening doesn't mean she should be spring queen 😑 I'm sure she can follow in the footsteps of her sister and brother in law and trespass into Spring if she needs to see flowers in abundance. It is afterall, nc tradition to lecture Tamlin in his own court and kick him in the shins. I really don't want to see her becoming friends with Tamlin, helping him rebuild Spring, making it her second home, etc etc etc. Like the point above, she and Lucien have enough homes to go back to. They don't need an extra one in Spring. And Tamlin doesn't need any more nc "friends".

[talonabraxas]

Fomalhaut – Watcher of the South Talon Abraxas New Moon in Pisces

With the arrival of the New Moon in Pisces, we embrace an energy that encourages us to open our hearts, sparking a profound desire for love and connection. Pisces creates a captivating and enchanting ambiance, paving the way for a month focused on transforming relationships.

This evening’s Pisces New Moon marks the conclusion of the lunar cycle for the astrological year and signals our official arrival into Eclipse Season. This February New Moon promises to be a significant event, ushering in a portal to one of the year’s most transformative moments.

A new chapter of reality is upon us, and this New Moon is the key to unlocking it. Let’s explore in detail what lies ahead… Pisces New Moon: A Portal for Deep Healing, Intuitive Downloads & Limitless Dreaming

The New Moon in Pisces brings a heightened sensitivity, leaving us feeling scattered, deeply emotional, and open to the surrounding energies.

Deep-seated emotions can surface, leaving us feeling inundated and overwhelmed. Although this may be challenging, confronting our emotions can lead to a profound sense of closure, along with enhanced understanding and awareness.

As the last sign of the zodiac, Pisces embodies a unique gift that it brings to the table. This insight allows us to identify the critical juncture and potentially the irreversible moment. Arriving at this destination offers a profound sense of insight and understanding. It’s akin to turning the final pages of a novel, where the depth of the character’s journey becomes clear and the resolution unfolds before you. New Moon Positioned at 9 Degrees in Pisces

Tonight, the New Moon takes place at 9 degrees of Pisces, a sign linked to achievement and expertise. This degree embodies the essence of our ability to excel in our passions and let our true brilliance illuminate the world. This degree encourages us to embrace our true selves and have faith in the inherent wisdom that resides within us.

What is your greatest strength? What unique abilities and skills do you possess? Pause to acknowledge your talents and everything you’ve achieved. Recognize the unique gifts and talents you possess—don’t dismiss them as nonexistent!

Each of us possesses unique talents that come naturally to us. Cast aside societal expectations and limitations, and explore further. Taking time to reflect on these can effectively inspire intentional action during the New Moon. New Moon in Pisces & Jupiter

2025 Pisces New Moon is aligning with Jupiter, the planet known for its themes of abundance and growth. Jupiter is frequently viewed as a force for good, as it not only amplifies aspects of our lives but also helps us recognize the silver linings more effortlessly.

The challenges you encounter during this New Moon might seem amplified, all due to Jupiter’s influence. Remember to seek out the positive and concentrate on the silver linings; you will undoubtedly discover them!

As Jupiter travels through Gemini, the realm of communication, we can expect significant conversations or vital information to emerge during the New Moon phase. Remember, the essence of Pisces will enhance our intuitive skills, so trust your instincts even though some things may seem amplified.

Jupiter’s influence could broaden our perspective, offering fresh insights and elevating our awareness in profound ways.

As the Eclipses approach, it appears that the information we gather might only reveal a fragment of the complete narrative. As we approach the concluding chapters, it seems we’ll need to hold on until the end of April, when Eclipse Season wraps up, to uncover the entire story. New Moon in Pisces: Your Portal to Eclipse Season

From this New Moon through the conclusion of Eclipse Season on April 27th, we enter a realm of profound transformation, healing, and change. By the end of April, we may all find ourselves navigating a remarkably different reality, thanks to the powerful cosmic energies at play.

Although this may seem a bit overwhelming, we can harness the energies of the Pisces New Moon and the uplifting vibrations of Jupiter to establish intentions for a more radiant future.

Consider what you desire to grow or invite into your life. Consider what you aim to achieve at your destination. Take a moment to consider these facets of your life and jot down what you hope to attract in the coming months.

Consider exploring strategies to nurture and support yourself as we navigate the weeks ahead.

As we return to the energy of 9 degrees of Pisces, what is it that you excel at?

In what areas do your talents shine the brightest? Happy New Moon!!!

[butterflydm]

some thoughts on spirits (DAV)

I feel like the game has done a good job making Rook feel like someone with natural leadership abilities. And while I do love the companions in the previous games, I feel like DAV's companions are my favorites (at least currently; entirely possible that a replay of the older games would make me feel different!).

I also really like the different dynamics between Rook and their companions. Just... idk good vibes.

Also, here is Rook being very relatable for me:

I am just really loving all the characters so much -- Lucanis stole my heart as my favorite (he's my 'personal demon' now in the character screen lol) but I'm very attached to all of my companions. I love how the game has made it easier to know when they have something new to say, and I like that they distinguish between 'conversations' and 'outings' in the companion quest section. I've really been enjoying getting to know them and I feel like this game has done a really good job appropriately gating dialogues and areas.

It feels like they found a good compromise between 'open world' and 'mission-based game'. Each of the areas feels really big but it's also gated in natural ways that get unlocked as the story goes on, so you can't bum-rush the Crossroads and do literally everything the first time you're there, for example. In DAI, I would sometimes have to impose my own pacing to make sure that things flowed well for me, and I haven't needed to do that with DAV.

One thing that leaving the Fereldan/Orlais area did is really let us get to know a lot of mages who don't have the same sense of shame and self-hate that mages are taught in the Chantry of southern Thedas (or the even more extreme way they are treated by the Qunari!). We got hints of this approach in earlier games, but getting to dive more in-depth into several cultures who do not have the same "let's toss all the mages into prison" approach to magic that southern Thedas has has been very illuminating! Obviously we've always had exceptions like the Dalish clans, but they were very much depicted as deliberately on the outskirts of society, and going against the Chantry-defined norm.

And to contrast, in DAV, I recently had a long conversation with Emmrich on the potential merits of lichdom! Basically an unthinkable conversation in either Ferelden or Orlais. Nevarra doesn't burn their dead and they don't have such a deep fear of the dead, demons, or magic itself. And it really just to illustrate how much the oppression of mages that was so much at display in the Circles is just... nonexistent in places like Nevarra. The oppression is cultural and it's religious -- it's not actually something that's necessary to 'keep magic in check'. (which, yeah, is obvious from the outside, but always nice to have reinforcement from the actual games!)

I'm also watching a let's play of DAI on the side and the person just got to Solas and Cole's personal quests and, yeah, they resonant so hard after the additional Solas revelations in DAV. And it really does feel so much like DAV is in a strong conversation with DAI (as makes sense). Solas and Varric are talking about Cole but Solas is also talking about himself.

Varric: "A spirit who is strangely like a person!"

Varric: "He came into this world to be a person. Let him be one."

Solas: "We cannot change our nature by wishing it." Varric: "You think?"

Solas: "You would alter the essence of what he is." Varric: "He did that to himself when he left the Fade."

[if Cole is made more spirit]

Varric: "...could have been a person." Solas: "Would that have made him happier?"

Is Solas's endgame becoming a spirit again? Or has he experienced and changed too much? (would it make him happier? is that a desirable goal?) Is it all a matter of perspective? Cole approves of the Inquisitor's choice whether they make him more of a spirit or more human. I feel like Solas would lose a lot of himself if he became a spirit again, but maybe that's a matter of perspective too.

And then Solas's DAI quest is all about dealing with the damage of a Wisdom Spirit being corrupted against its purpose -- the same kind of Spirit that Solas once was. Wisdom vs Pride (but once you're a person and not a spirit, you can be filled with both at the same time).

DAV is really making me want to do another run of DAI, and take Solas literally everywhere, lol. But the conversation about spirits in the 'real' world didn't start there either -- it started back in DAO, with Wynne. It continued in DA2, with Anders. Both DAO and DA2 are more 'standard' than what we get in DAI with Cole, in the sense that they were possessing a body (though with permission) but it's still part of the same conversation.

But the conversation really did explode into something bigger in DAI, with Cole as a spirit who was with us without possessing a body, and with learning that being briefly possessed can reverse Tranquility (via Cassandra's quest). And now, with what had been confirmed in DAV, we know that a spirit that takes mortal form can, over the generations, become mortal, as that's what the ancient elves did, so Cole could have kids who were fully mortal, maybe. And Cole did it without using lyrium (and thus taking something from the Titans to fuel himself) -- at least as far as I understand.

I am also finding myself very curious about where humans come from -- we know that the ancient elves were once spirits; we know that the dwarves are fragments of the Titans. Where did humans come from? Evolution? Or is there a magical answer for them too? Is the Maker a spirit and/or Titan who created humans specifically?

(I think it's implied that Qunari were genetically/magically engineered in some way, and possibly crossbred with dragons somehow?? iirc DAI correctly)

I'm really looking forward to removing my filters on DA-related stuff and reading other people's thoughts. I've covered my eyes and clicked on posts a couple of times so far and have been rewarded by mostly getting fanart and not spoilers, lol. Mostly.

I genuinely have zero critiques of the game so far, if anyone was wondering if I was just holding some back or whatever. I like the quality of life changes they made to a lot of little things like companion banter; I never had an issue with the art style*; and I'm enjoying the story and characters as they unfold.

(*I know that was a big thing with a lot of people but, confession time: I genuinely can barely tell a difference between DAI and DAV's 'art style'. You can change Qunari hairstyles separate from horns now in the character creator? People walk less awkwardly than in DAI? The menus are purple instead of green? idk, maybe my brain just doesn't register whatever it is that makes DAV so different, art-wise?)

I also love that I can literally just throw myself at boxes to break them open to get materials. It's so satisfying. I have a griffon that I can pet. idk, I guess I'm just a simple girl with simple desires. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Looking forward to playing more this weekend!

Current progress note: a Dalish clan (at least one) has been kidnapped for potential blood sacrifices, so trying to rescue them is my next main quest. I'm about eighty hours into the game.

[munchmemes]

Paris Paloma lyrics, Cacophony edition

▸ what did i do wrong? will you tell me what i did wrong? ▸ was it a first offense? ▸ how long had you been harboring that venom? ▸ i don't think you would pull out on the other side. ▸ i know you had a temper but i guess i thought i was immune. ▸ i was strawberry picking, you were gathering ammunition to use. ▸ my mind has not been silent since you. ▸ i never burn bridges, i just laden them with locks. ▸ i'm a smothering lover. ▸ are you a people pleaser? ▸ sometimes i catch you, so secretive and private. ▸ all the time i covet what you cover by the hedgerow. ▸ cohesive arguments evade [them], eggshell temperament, no emotional regulation, hysterical baby. ▸ i used to think of you a caring thing. ▸ i'm floored you ever got there. ▸ never making good on silent threats so that [you/they] know that i have nothing. ▸ i'm severing ties. ▸ this was an escape plan. ▸ if our love died, would that be the worst thing? ▸ for somebody i thought was my saviour, you sure make me do a whole lot of labour. ▸ apologies from my tongue, never yours. ▸ i know you're a smart man and weaponise the false incompetence. ▸ it's dominance under guise. ▸ now i've gotta run so i can undo this mistake. at least i've gotta try. ▸ it's not an act of love if you make [them]. ▸ you take such delight in killing my light. ▸ if i don't make a sound, does it even hurt? ▸ it fills you with light to take away mine. ▸ you've been playing with your power for a long time. ▸ let us sit so quietly. ▸ how gentle can our violence be between finger and thumb. ▸ i'm sorry i'm repetitive. ▸ i don't mind you keep forgetting it, so long as it's your thread, not the depths of my love. ▸ [you/they] opened my eyes and they'll never close again. ▸ how can you be so in love with yourself? tell me, please, cause i need help. ▸ every time you are succeeding, there's an old man somewhere seething. ▸ spite's as good a reason to take [their] power. ▸ when you hate the body you are in, you're acting just for them. ▸ take that rage and bottle up. ▸ you don't need [them], you don't need me. ▸ what a lovely hiding place that you have made. ▸ what a world outside to keep each other safe from. ▸ the com-link's open but there's no one tuned in on the other side. ▸ why did i deserve to live? did i just deserve to watch them die? ▸ if they had asked me, i wouldn't have agreed that it was the right thing. ▸ leave me to the beasts and bears. i'd rather that the feast was theirs. ▸ for the first time since i drew breath, i'm undesirable again. ▸ it will never be yours. ▸ don't you dare think it's overkill. ▸ was i meant in this life to find peace? ▸ death won't bring what you think it will. ▸ death won't bring what you hope it will. ▸ what i long for is nonexistent in any belief system. ▸ all i want is some rest. ▸ there's no sentience in death. just the darkness at the worst temporality and permanence. ▸ i don't know what's on the other side but i don't think it's what i had in mind. ▸ i hope i find some rest in this life. ▸ do i not fear death but just pretend to? ▸ i felt sick at my contempt. ▸ if you were easy to kill, i would have done it already. ▸ if i was easy to kill, you would have done it already. ▸ for you were lonely, you were like me. ▸ i used to think that i was running from the night but i've been following behind the light all this time. ▸ it can't hurt me. it's still there but it can't now the warmth's returning. ▸ our paths will never cross again. that's the way you wanted it. ▸ there was a time i felt for you. ▸ i don't know you. i used to like to pretend to. ▸ we're nothing but myths now that neither of us believe in. ▸ i never thought i wouldn't care about you but here we are. ▸ no muscle memory, no lingering taste, no persistent impulse to pick up your trace. ▸ i left you no note, you left me no sign. ▸ sweet indifference. gentle apathy. wholesome, quiet dispassion. restful neutrality.

[ewingstan]

are you still doing the philosophy ask game. if so jessie...for me...

Okay I'm gonna go more in-depth than I usually do for these, because the thing that best works is a whole article that itself is responding to a lot of different arguments. So this is gonna be a bit of a journey. It’ll start out morbid, but end on a more positive note. Jessie fans should read Kaufman’s Lucretius and the Fear of Death.

The question of whether we see death as a bad thing has been contentious for as long as we have records of people arguing. Its simpler for those who believe in an afterlife: If what comes after is bad, you should fear it, if it isn't, you shouldn't. But for those who don't believe in an afterlife, why should death be considered bad for you?

The question might seem ridiculous, but its worth pointing out that most bad things that can happen to us are experiences. Pain, sorrow, humiliation, all are bad because they happen to us. But death? When it comes we're not around anymore to experience it. As Epicurus argued, "so long as we exist, death is not with us; but when death comes, then we do not exist. It does not then concern either the living or the dead, since for the former it is not, and the latter are no more.”

So if things can only be bad by virtue of us experiencing them, and if we can't experience death (we can experience dying, but not death), then why should death be feared? A popular answer is to expand what counts as bad to include deprivation, or the absence of positive things we're owed. Consider a case where someone sends us jewelry as an anonymous gift, but the gift gets stolen in transit. We don't feel any negative emotions as a result; we weren't expecting a gift, so its absence doesn't make us frustrated or sorrowful. But we can still say the theft was bad for us, because it deprived us of something that should've been ours. So Epicurus is often answered using The Deprivation Account: Death is bad because it deprives us of the goods of life. When I die, I'm robbed of all the good experiences I could've had by living longer.

The good times we shared will always have happened. But I deserve more, and our expiration dates mean I'm not going to get them.

But this argument already had its critics as far back as first-century BC. Lucretius challenged it with The Symmetry Argument: If its nonexistence that we find terrible, our absence from the universe after our death that we find tragic, why isn't our absence before our birth similarly tragic? Our prenatal nonexistence mirrors exactly our post-death nonexistence. And if death is bad because our nonexistence deprives us of all the goods we could've experienced in the future, doesn't our late time of birth deprive us of all the goods we could've experienced in the past?

If I'm sad that I didn't get to live another twenty years, than it shouldn't matter that those twenty years not lived were in the future and not the past. And if I'm not sad about having been deprived of past existence, I shouldn't be sad about having been deprived of future existence.

(Of course, Jessie could mourn that she wasn't born earlier. All the happiness you had growing up, that I read about him having. The closeness you shared, that pushed you away from getting close to me for so long. What would it have been like for us, if I was there from the start?)

So why should we hold asymmetrical attitudes towards the earliness o our death and the lateness of our birth? Kaufman gives a good reason: We couldn't have been born earlier. "I" am not my body or my genetic code—if I was, I'd share an identity with my identical twin. "I" am a psychological continuity, a chain of memories and mental states, a process of one experience leading to another. The memories I have, the connections I've forged, how my experiences have made me who I am—that's what makes me me. So a hypothetical version of me born earlier couldn't be "me" in any robust sense, because that hypothetical me's earlier birth would mean it shared no psychological continuity with me.

I can talk about myself using counterfactuals: What if I'd gone to trade school? What if I pursued a career as a boxing manager? But the reason I can talk about those counterfactual people and call them me, despite how they've lived a different life, is because they share a psychological continuity with me up to a point. We have the same start, and from there have the same chain of experiences and mental events up till some point of divergence. But someone can't share a continuity with me if their continuity had a different starting point. If I ask "what if I was born in ancient Egypt" or "what if I was born in 4000 AD," I'm not actually asking what I'd be like in those circumstances at all—I'd only be asking what a person with my genetic code would be like. I am my history, and even if they lived within my actual lifetime, an earlier start means they wouldn't share any of that history. I might as well be talking about my twin, or a stranger who looks like me.

After all, Jessie was born earlier—but not as herself. Jamie the first had the same body, same genes, but wasn't the same person as Jessie. The start of her psychological continuity, her birth, was not a continuation of Jamie's continuity, but a break and an end.

I can imagine what it was like to be him. You know he was good at painting a picture, for all his quietness. But I didn't live his life, I've just read his words.

Thankfully, I could never really be him. My story is a clean slate. I'm here, and I'm ready to live.

[hanayori89]

The Healed Hand

You still didn't know who he was.

You had given him, at least what you deemed, a suitable sobriquet, calling him 'Blupee Boy' after the mythical glowing creatures you read about in books.

He took great humor in it.

"Have you ever seen a Blupee?" He asked curiously.

You shook your head. There was so much of the surface you hadn't seen. Maybe someday you will see one when you return, after you are healed, of course.

Your strange visitor with the shiny, green arm spoke of many unimaginable things. He told you there were islands in the sky. Here you were, so pathetic in your pursuit of wanting to see all of Hyrule's depths and surface, and now there were islands in the sky? What's more, he also spoke of a lost civilization, the Zonai, who were technologically advanced well beyond their time. He held his arm up, crediting the Zonai for his enchanted prosthetic appendage.

Every time he would come to visit, he would be armed with a gastronomical gift to savor, such as curried pilaf or fruit cake, which he would serve with a piping hot and wild fable.

Your favorite of them all was the one he told you over a comforting bowl of tomato stew. You watched his lips move, the rest of his face remaining inconspicuous, like his identity. He told you that the princess was actually a dragon who protected Hyrule from the sky.

You slurped a spoonful of your stew. "Sure, Blupee Boy, what's next? Ganondorf is a dragon too, and they are going to duke it out over Hyrule?"

He didn't seem to find this funny.

Over time, you both grew into comrades, bonding over your secrets that were safe in the cloaked darkness. But the scales of knowledge seemed tipped in his favor. Your insides tickled with mounting curiosity the more he spent time with you. You wanted to see the color of the lips that told you such vibrant stories. You wanted to know what the eyes looked like that seemed to regard you so highly.

What color were the eyes of the person that seemed to care for you so much, and would that change once you found out?

But he insisted on sitting, never too close to you, but in the shadows, as if he were more comfortable enrobed in them than the incandescent flames of your campfire.

One day, in a restless fit, you decided to try and coax him out of the darkness's womb. "I showed you what I look like; are you so superficial that you need to hide?"

He roared with laughter in response. "Superficial? Coming from a woman who won't show her face on the surface because of a little bit of gloom infection? Please."

Your reverse psychology had backfired. The smug and knowing way he reflected your question back onto you left you wounded. "I'm a woman; we are worth nothing if not for our looks. Do you think Zelda would receive all the praise she gets if not for the fact she's beautiful?"

He snapped a twig in between his fingers. "Zelda is incredibly smart; her soul exists to care for this land and its people. Her people. She would read a book before she would worry about something vapid like makeup." He pressed on, eager to defend her. "In fact, if she had to, she would sacrifice her looks in a heartbeat if it meant it protected her people."

"You are very close to her."

"You have no idea." He stood, dusting off his tunic, the fringe on the bottom rustled against the muscles of his thighs beneath it. He plucked a glowing flower. He threw it down before you as if he were throwing it onto a coffin being lowered in the ground. You knew you had upset him.

"This flower does not possess the beauty of the lush and colorful ones we know of. But here, beneath Hyrule, can you deny the beauty each petal holds as it brings light into a place where it is nonexistent? Perhaps on the surface, it would not be considered for beauty, but it's reason for existing, it's purpose is quite beautiful."

You twirled the flower beneath your chin; the light radiating from it captured some of the gloom's lesions that now inhabited your flesh. You could feel his eyes scouring your face and the vibration of his desire to touch you again.

He whispered. "I'm sorry if the only value you've been taught is that of your appearance."

You both sat in reflective silence. Your vanity; a poe propped on your shoulder, laughed at you.

                       ~*🐉~*🐉~*🐉*~

As time droned on, you wondered if he was really going to heal you, but after your squabble, you decided not to bring it up.

He accepted you as you were. So why couldn't you show yourself the same acceptance?

You heard the familiar, heavy footsteps of him approaching your camp. As light as his silhouette appeared, he seemed to walk with weighted feet.

You looked up, and a necklace of blood dripped down his chest.

"Hylia! What's happened to you?" You took your shirt off in a panic, dabbing it into a pail of water you kept at your campsite. "Here, you're hurt, please let me."

Despite his extensive injury, he still preferred to hide from you.

"Please," you begged. "You've done so much for me; let me do something for you."

"Zelda has returned."

"What?" You covered your mouth in shock. "You found Zelda? Is that where you've been?"

He fell to his knees. "Please let me help you." As you ran toward him, you saw his emerald hand begin to glisten; he eclipsed his face beneath his palm, hiding it. You kneeled beside him, dabbing his chest and cleaning it. "You saved the princess. What on earth are you doing down here? Look at all this blood; you should seek treatment on the surface."

His face remained sheathed beneath his hand as you wrung your shirt out, watching some of the water that had been dyed crimson fall from it.

You tried to lighten the mood. "What about her knight?"

"What about him?"

"Did they find him? If you found Zelda and not her knight, he may have-"

"Have what?"

"Perished. And Hylia, what a shame; he was certainly my eye candy."

You heard him laugh beneath his hand. "Really? You find him attractive?"

"Doesn't everyone?"

He lowered his hand gently. "I'm not asking about everyone. I'm asking about you."

Your eyes were met with a dazzling blue orb, and you felt as though a vine of thorns was strangling your heart. Deciding he had revealed too much, he began to lift his hand once again. You nabbed it and stopped him.

"I want to see you." He remained beneath the curtain of his enclosed fingers. "Please, I've shown you the version of myself even I cannot accept."

"If you cannot accept yourself, then how will you accept me? His blue iris peaked through a crack in his fingers.

"I don't even care if you heal me. I don't care if I am to live like this for the rest of my days; I just want to see you." Your voice sounded unlike itself. A humbleness had grown inside of you thanks to this boy. You just wanted to be with him and his wisdom, which gave you a new sense of meaning. One that had evolved beyond merely occupying flesh.

"Y/N, Come with me." He mumbled. "Let's heal each other."

"What? You're in no condition to-"

He stood, facing away from you, as he yanked your hand and led you through the darkness. The only light you could see was coming from his arm. The artificial part of him had somehow become just as genuine as the lips that had been whispering kind tidings to you all this time.

You walked in silence, his hand quivering as it held onto yours. In the distance, you saw a giant bulb erupting downward from the ceiling of the depths. Roots scattered around it, plugging into the ground and fastening into the area. The light emanating from it was a ferocious presence that could never be absorbed by the gloom of the depths.

All of this time, you could have camped by it instead of being in the dark.

Your stomach churned as you faced the stark realization your healer had been trying to show you all along. You had cast yourself in your own darkness.

You chose exile. You chose to see yourself as a product of the gloom.

This ugliness, this darkness- it was never real.

You had created it.

And you had imprisoned yourself within it.

The closer you got to the monumental bulb and its uncompromising light, the more your enigmatic savior was revealed to you. Dull golden locks swept over his shoulders, gliding behind him as he walked forward swiftly with you secure beneath his grip. His tunic, evergreen, if you had to guess, was marred by splotches of dirt and dried blood.  His back held scars and lacerations that told you grand stories in the same way he would. You saw his arm. There was a boundary where flesh ended, and metal invaded.

The glimmering green of his arm remained resplendent beneath the light, not competing to shine brighter but simply existing in the same pulse of vibrancy.

You arrived beneath the source of the light. He kept his back facing you. Your heart squeezed as it had earlier, and the longing to see his face threatened to consume you.

"This is a lightroot. This is what heals gloom. I need you to wrap your arms around me."

"What's going to happen? Will it hurt?"

"Don't be afraid." He put his hand on yours, his thumb stroking your hand, soothing you. How odd that you almost wished he were holding you with his other arm, which was just as much a part of him as his natural one.

"By the way-" His voice betrayed his nerves as it rattled slightly. "My name...is Link."

                    ~*🐉~*🐉~*🐉*~

The whistling of clouds whirling overhead jolted you awake.

You had never seen light like this. Where light could be manipulated within the eternal glum of the depths, darkness could never be replicated here. You saw trees, crisp and unapologetically amber, following the rhythm of the clouds that danced by. You thrust your hand upward, closing your palm, pretending to capture a cloud within its grasp.

Your hand, your delicate digits, were now undressed of gloom. You jolted upright, capturing your face in between your palms. Your skin was so sleek, your hands slid off it, expecting to snag on a pock mock or abrasion. For good measure, you did it again. Your skin was as velvety as the encompassing clouds.

You ran toward a small pond lined with lily pads. You looked into the transparency of the lapping waves, touching your face for the final time.

You had been reborn. Back into the light, before the gloom, before the darkness. But this light wasn't the same as the one you knew, and the person peering back wasn't the same either. Her eyes were wider, as if they were now meant to see more than just her narrow-minded existence.

Your lips began to tremble. You had been returned to who you were, but that wasn't you anymore. Next to you, a handsome face appeared on the surface of the pond. A lily pad covered his reflection until it floated off, revealing the familiar outline of lips you'd grown accustomed to. Only now, these lips had a color, as did everything in this radiant land. The pale carnation mouth was pressed together, and a sharp nose sat above it with the same luminescent blue eyes that not even the cruel dusky depths could hide.

You turned, meeting Link's grinning face for the first time. The sight of his slightly crooked teeth bunched upward in a smile that made your belly quake.

Seeing the recognition flicker in your eyes, he cocked his head to the side in amusement. "So, it seems you've found the missing knight. You know, your healing was never about the gloom. I wanted to heal the way you saw the world. The way you saw yourself."

He reached his arm forward, touching your face as he had when he first met you, and it was encrusted with gloom. The loving feeling behind his fingertips was no different. He traced an area of your jaw where a spot of gloom used to reside.

He then grabbed his prosthetic arm, gently pulling it off and letting it fall to the grass with a thud.

"And maybe I agreed to heal you because I wanted to heal myself too."

You reached your hand up to feel the suctioned and severed flesh that had formed a mound where his arm used to be. He used his other hand to grab your waist and pull you into his body. "So, tell me, who is more magical, me or a Blupee?"

You looked up at him with a smirk.

"Neither. That most magical award goes to the bogus tale of Zelda being a dragon."

A breeze softly rolled past, and an elongated shadow appeared on the ground around you both, swallowing you.

  

                                   🐉FIN🐉

Edited:12./29/23

[lunawriteschaos]

Safe space

Inhale and exhale, slow and deep. Feel your muscles relax, soften, your bones at rest. Close your eyes— Look behind those eyelids, into the depth of the unknown blank space. Find the door that will take you to the safe space.

I open my eyes as the waves wet my toes, the sand slowly cooling down. There is no one—a world of mine. The sounds are calm and soothing, my heart almost sleeping, that feeling, so peaceful.

I take a breath and inhale the sea scent. As I look around, a small black cat brushes by my legs, waving its tail like a broken clock hand. Time is slow here, almost nonexistent.

From my right, I hear a honey voice reading. I turn, and our eyes meet. He smiles, and my heart awakens. I respond with a gentle touch to his hair, the wind dancing through his locks. I inhale once more—the water, his perfume. I fill my being with his presence. I whisper and kiss, slow and familiar.

My heart cries as I say, "I’ll be back." And I exhale with difficulty, opening my eyes to a different dimension, which I am cursed to inhabit. Away from my home, away from tranquility.

[boombambaby]

2025 Resolutions— there’s a lot I could say.

I’ve got a few personal ones I won’t share, but there is a lot of things I want to do here and on different platforms in terms of writing, this new year.

Buckle up; to the surprise of absolutely NO ONE, this turned into a novel. Under a cut to not clog up the whole dash.

Branching out; The Emperor’s New Groove/School is a very, very, VERY small, almost nonexistent fandom. I came into this knowing that, and thinking; “well if there’s no one else in my fandom to write with, I’ll write with myself!” and I started writing drabbles and headcanons and doing everything I could to get exposure. It worked, and I had some interest in folks from other fandoms— but for the most part it was pretty lonely for a long time.

Now that I’m on a site with so many different fandoms, and characters willing to write crossovers I would sincerely love to branch out and explore the possibility of crossover storylines, not just between other Disney characters— though I would love for Kuzco to meet/have SOME kind of relationship with Disney characters, because in my head they’re all one big misfit bunch— but other fandoms of all different genres.

My old fandoms were Supernatural and Marvel and I’ve always loved coming up with reasons for my characters to meet someone else’s; so I’d love to get things rolling all across the board and meet new people.

Shipping; I don’t think I’ve made the fact that I like love shipping a secret! I post little romantic/shippy things all the time, and I am ALWAYS interested in exploring the possibilities of a ship! I tend to like it better when our characters have some kind of connection first, especially with chemistry. Slow burns are where it’s at.

But lately I’ve been incredibly cautious about replying to others ship calls/romantic starter type thingies. I’ve replied to a few and they’ve gone unnoticed or been ignored, and . . . I don’t want to push a ship on anybody. Most of the time they’re for fun because like I said I prefer for our characters to have a connection or backstory first, which I’m always open to building but these are just fun little prompts to make for silly/interesting one offs in my opinion. But! I don’t want to make anyone uncomfortable, so please— if I ever send you something and you hate it, or you aren’t interested at ALL or even if you just aren’t feeling it; please just shoot me a message or an inbox and tell me to back off. I’ll understand completely.

People tend to think Kuzco is always his brash, arrogant, self absorbed and sarcastic self— and while he IS, I also have a lot of headcanons and ideas regarding WHY he acts that way and what he’s hiding behind that personality. The right kind of person with enough patience can penetrate those walls, and I’ve always believed (and shown with Malina!) that there is a softer, silly version of him for whoever manages to do that.

That all being said, I’d love to discuss the potential for connections/shipping with more folks around here — and to gain more affiliates.

Headcanons/background; I’ve always wanted to post a LOT more headcanons and background information on Kuzco/TENG. I’ve been meaning to post more, and more character studies and little things to really build Kuzco’s character up and life just got away from me.

I see people always posting these beautiful, detailed background pieces and quotes about their character, and I really want to get better at doing all of that.

I also started a little project on world building and trying to map out the Kuzconian Empire that was abandoned after some things happened that made me lose my muse for a while. I’m going to get back to that this year, and finish it. I want anyone writing with me who would need a more in depth layout of the Kingdom to have it so they have a well rounded version of both it, and Kuzco.

Writing; I posted about this recently, but I’m going to focus on quality over quantity. I’ve got a LOT of storylines going on, and I tend to rush to get them out— which can be a struggle. I came from writing on MySpace back in the day, and on sites where novellas and multi paras was the norm. Coming here and getting used to small paragraphs that are mostly dialog has been an adjustment. I struggle all the time to craft something that captures the background of what’s happening, what my character is thinking or doing, and some snappy dialog because it’s hard to do when you’re trying not to go overboard.

I’m going to worry less about ‘scaring other people away’ and more about the quality of my replies. I’ll format and make it all pretty, but I’ve always tended to like really creating a mental image of a scene, and choreographing my characters actions/feelings and thoughts. I tend to ramble, in case you haven’t noticed— so that can end up being a long thing, several paragraphs in length; but I want to get back to that.

I’m not going to start writing my replies as novellas, don’t get me wrong. I love banter above all, so for short things a short single paragraph or two is fine. But I am going to start editing my replies before I send them, and focusing on the quality of them rather than pumping them out to knock down my drafts. I want to get back into that habit.

Engagement; I want to get better at engaging with my followers. ALL of them. There’s a habit I have where I tend to see others interacting on the dash, and feeling down on myself because I’m not actively interacting with anyone at the time. Then I look at my owes and I think ‘that’s why’. Then I tell myself ‘I’ll start posting more dash stuff and all of that once I get these owes knocked down’, which . . . never really happens. And it’s a never ending cycle until I feel like I’ve been left out or forgotten, and it must be because I suck at what I’m doing here, so maybe I should stop— and so on and so forth.

I’m going to do better there. Interactions are a two way street. I followed you because I want to engage and interact with you, and I would hope the same goes for you. It’s my fault I get into my head about this stuff, and I want to knock it off right out of the gate. I’m going to start sending more memes and prompts in when I see them posted. I’m going to start sending inboxes to my followers to let them know how much I appreciate them, and their portrayal and all of the different things. I’m going to stop feeling anxious about bothering people for sending them inbox things.

I’ve been overwhelmed by love and support from you guys since I found the RPC ( for a while when I started last December, it was only me, myself and I. Then I found a few people who wrote with me, then Malina came along and it was just us until like. . . July? This year.) and I have over 30+ storylines going right now, which is incredible. But I want more. Because I’m crazy.

Followers/following; I’m going to go through my list and do a little cleaning up. It doesn’t necessarily bother me having followers who haven’t been active in months, since— they’re not really clogging up the dash or anything, you know? But if we haven’t interacted or wrote anything together at all and you’re inactive, I’m probably going to unfollow to declutter my space. Same with likes.

I’ve never been the type to be super selective about who I write with; I’ll try anything once! But I’m going to try to do better at decluttering my space and curating a safe space for myself and my followers.

Graphics; I don’t have enough icons. I need more.

I also have so many ideas for gifs and c.s. related gifs and screen shots that I’ve been wanting to do, and I’ve just been lazy. That’s going to change.

That was a LOT, I know. But I actually think that’s it (for now.) I’m sure I’ve missed something, but overall there’s some changes I want to make, some things I want to do better, and some things I need to improve on— and this year is the year I’m going to do that.

Roleplaying has always been an escape from RL for me and my stressful job, and I love being able to come here and forget about life for a little while, while I play this goofball.

Thank you to everyone, from the ENG/ENS blogs and their writers, my followers and friends who have shown me kindness and love for this nutty character I love so much, and to everyone else who has given me the time of day since I started writing here on Tumblr for. . . literally everything.

I’m so looking forward to 2025. And seeing what it has to offer us all. : )

[purgatory-is-life]

Mechtober prompt 19/day 19-Headcanons

i didn't get to my inhuman mechs headcanons in htis one like i initially planned, but i'd love to hear your inhuman mechs headcanons!! even just your regular mechanisms headcanons!! tell me all ur mechs thoughts,,,

@mechtober-2024

Lyfrassir Edda's Very Confusing New... Friends? - Reality666Rift999 - The Mechanisms (Band) [Archive of Our Own]

tw; mentioned torture, mentioned death, a bit of discussion about brian's backstory, i think that's it? but if there's something u need/want me to tag feel free!!

Lyfrassir was new to the crew of the starship Aurora, the Mechanisms. The space pirates had taken them in when their ship was breaking down and their food stores were running low. Lyfrassir was not aware that the crew offering them rescue was the same one that those damned three prisoners talked about all the time until after they’d been on the ship for a day and Raphaella had scrounged their ship for parts. So now, they were effectively stranded in deep space with the Mechanisms. The bird-like woman had claimed to not realize that it was their ship, said that she assumed Aurora just brought it on for scrap metal, but what’s done is done.

Naturally, they’d been doing their best to avoid the space pirates, but there wasn’t much to do on the ship Aurora besides get lost in her–strangely large quantities of hallways, or hide in the room that the crew had offered them. And after running out of things to do by themselves and running out of creative ways to steal alcohol without anyone noticing, well, there wasn’t much left for them to do but start interacting with the Mechanisms. They didn’t like it, but at least they weren’t bored anymore.

This was the first band practice they were sitting in on, though. It was only Brian, Tim, The Toy Soldier,  and Ashes at the moment, as the other four were causing havoc elsewhere on the ship. Lyfrassir really didn’t want to know what they were up to.

In the meantime, the four currently in front of Lyf were practicing a set that Brian had called ‘High Noon Over Camelot’. Out of everyone on the Aurora, Lyfrassir probably liked Brian the most so far. Other than Aurora herself, of course. She was generally very kind, when she wasn’t leading them down nonexistent hallways and getting them lost for hours on end.

But Brian was calm, collected, and generally very kind. Even if he was oftentimes brutally honest and unflinching in voicing his assessment of things–and even if he still on occasion shot the rest of the crew dead for seemingly no reason besides to get some peace and quiet. He was kind of confusing, in that manner, but to them he had been nothing but kind—outside of the moments of brutal honesty.

And, to top it all off, he had a lovely singing voice.

“Deep within the depths of the Station, You’ll find the key that brings your salvation

So take your seat, the one they warn you from Galahad

Be strong it’s visions may overwhelm, But they won’t steer you wrong,

Follow them through to your fate…”

The drumbot hummed, staring down at his banjo and readjusting the prongs, when the question popped into their mind and forced its way out of their throat.

“What did you actually tell them?” Lyfrassir asked, causing all four of the space pirates to turn to them. The blanched, suddenly self conscious and aware that that could’ve been a very wrong thing to say, but they continued forward. “The people on the space station, Fort Galfridian right? What did you actually tell them, of the… futures, you saw?”

There was a pause, and Ashes looked to Brian warily, something that Lyf was starting to assume meant concern on their face, while Tim continued to stare at them unblinkingly like they asked a foolish question. The Toy Soldier was swinging its head between Brian and Ashes, as if it was unsure what it was to do next.

“I told them what we put in the song,” Brian said, eventually. “Exactly what it was–Marius helped me write it down and figure out the exact tune for it.”

Lyfrassir blinked slowly at Brian. “…Really?”

Brian nodded, slow and creaking. “I believe I’ve always had dreams that show me things, the future or the past. Whenever I try to explain those dreams, to the people involved or too specifically, all that leaves my voice is a song that only confuses everyone around me. I don’t think it has anything to do with how Carmilla wired my brain and voice box, either. It’s always been like that, I believe. That was part of the reason I was called a witch, when I was launched into space, I think… I don’t remember too clearly. The responses were different, but my lines are as honest as our storytelling is probably capable of getting. We embellish a lot, after all, skim over things that couldn’t make a good song or would just drag the story out unnecessarily. A lot of the details get left out as we write.” Brian reached up and rubbed his neck tentatively, eyebrows furrowing as he continued. “It makes it really hard to take someone seriously if they’re just belting nonsensical songs at you, so people never really listen to the things I warn about. I tend to keep my mouth shut because of that, but sometimes I still feel the need to try. I… Galahad was one of the only ones who listened to me in a while, besides the Crew. And even then, you all aren’t the best listeners. You shrug me off and decide to do things anyway because it’ll be more ‘fun’, and then you end up dying over and over for half a century or worse–”

“It was one time,” Tim protested weakly. She had turned from staring Lyf down, to finding the neck of her guitar very interesting. “The torture wasn’t even that bad. Kinda boring, honestly.”

“But it still happened,” Brian said, turning to stare at Tim. “Because you didn’t listen to me. The only time recently where any of you listened to me about something I Saw was when we were passing Yggdrasil, and yet Marius and Ivy and Raph still went investigating anyway despite the fact that I was practically incoherent for days after that Dream.”

“They did still listen about leaving before the train came, though,” Tim pointed out, not looking at the drumbot.

“Barely– it’s– this isn’t the time to have this kind of discussion. We were supposed to be practicing High Noon.” Brian turned his attention back to his banjo, a clump of strands of copper hair fell in front of his eyes, and Brian quickly brushed them away.

Lyfrassir felt kind of awful. “I’m sorry,” they said. “I didn’t– I wasn’t thinking when I asked that. I’m sorry.”

“I don’t blame you,” Brian answered, “Marius says my music has a way of drawing things out from people. I think it’s all of us, but Marius just gets a look about him when I say that and shrugs. I tend to listen to him about that kind of thing, he’s a lot more in tune with stories than we give him credit for sometimes. Besides, I know you didn’t mean any real harm by it. You just didn’t know what you were asking.”

“…Back to work, then?” Ashes suggested, and Brian and Tim both nodded. The Toy Soldier clapped its wooden hands together.

“My! That Was Quite A Speech, Would You Desire Some Tea, Old Chap?” the wooden doll turned to Brian, who nodded.

“Actually, that’d– that’d be kind of nice TS. Thank you.”

“Of Course! I Shall Get Some For You As Well, Mx. Lyfrassir! I’ll Be But A Moment.” The Soldier patted Lyf on the shoulder, before darting off to make a quick spot of tea, while Lyf tried to swallow the lump in their throat.

“Do you want to move onto ‘Skin And Bone’ for a while, Ashes?” Tim asked.

“Sure, we could all use a distraction I think.” The arsonist shrugged, and the three Mechanisms returned to their practicing, The Toy Soldier joining in quickly after it had made its tea.

—--

Lyfrassir was sitting alongside Brian on the bridge, as the metal pilot navigated through an asteroid belt. They were fidgeting with the knitting hooks they’d ‘borrowed’ from Marius, as an octokitten swatted at the yarn in their lap with its weird paw-like tentacles. Lyf glanced at Brian as he tucked some of his hair behind his ear. He was incredibly focused, on the abyss outside, which made sense. He did have to worry about asteroids.

Aurora beeped and slammed a door.

“Just– give me a second, ‘Rora.” Brian’s voice was distant. “We’re almost through.” Aurora sighed, warm air blowing through the bridge from loud fans, ruffling Lyf’s braids and Brian’s hair, knocking his hat off of his head as well. Brian sighed, but didn’t move to pick up the fallen hat, leaving it laying sadly on the floor. Lyfrassir glanced between it and the pilot, before returning to their knitting. Eventually, they were out of the asteroid field, and the pilot relaxed, slumping in his seat. He still hadn’t picked up his hat.

Brian, after several minutes, reached up and tucked the hair that had fallen in his face again behind his ear.

“Do you– want me to braid your hair?” they asked, finally. The noise startled Brian out of his haze, the brass man jumping slightly before turning his head to face Lyf, staring blankly at them for a few moments.

“Ah– you– you don’t need to, Lyf? It’s… It’s fine. I’m– you don’t need to.”

“I want to, though– uh…” Lyf coughed into their hand and turned away, face burning as they decidedly did not look at him. “It’s always getting in your eyes… And it’s long enough that I could do some– ah, some fun hairstyles.” They were pretty sure their face was an even darker shade of purple, they were blushing so hard. “I won’t if you don’t want to.”

Brian didn’t respond for a moment, and Lyfrassir assumed that was that. And then, “Okay.”

Lyfrassir whipped their head around so fast they might’ve given themself whiplash. “Okay?”

“Yeah, okay,” Brian’s face was a bright red. “You can braid my hair.”

Lyf swallowed thickly, and nodded. “Okay.”

Brian moved from his pilot’s seat, to the ground in front of Lyfrassir. They set their knitting to the side and began by running their hands through his copper hair, making their way through the knots slowly. “You uh, won’t have to worry about hair ties either,” Brian said, taking some of his hair and wrapping it around his fingers. He pulled the coil up and it continued standing up. “My hair can just– stay as it’s styled, if enough of it’s clumped together. Usually, anyway. The Crew… They– the Crew likes to mess with this and shit. If I take a nap, sometimes I wake up with wild hairstyles. One time, TS made it into a swan and its baby swans. It was kind of cute, honestly.”

Lyfrassir chuckled at the image of Brian walking around with swan-shaped hair. “The Toy Soldier is… Something, certainly.”

“Yeah.” Brian sighed, relaxing into Lyf’s touch as they started splitting his hair into several strands. “We love it, though. It wouldn’t be the Toy Soldier if it wasn’t a little off. We all are, after all. Probably something to do with how we became the Mechs.”

“Oh?” Lyf wasn’t paying too much attention to what Brian was saying, focusing on braiding his hair.

“Yeah– you uh, you see it most with Marius, I think. And, well, me, but Marius is the one you see it most in who’s still made mostly out of flesh. He’s… 87% flesh, whereas I’m like… 10% flesh, because of my heart.”

“Is that why von Raum is so… annoying? Is his arm why he can just– summon violins from nowhere?”

“Oh, no, according to him that was something he could do even before he was Marius. But, well, Marius lies a lot, so maybe it is his mechanism.”

“So the mystery continues…”

“Raph’s been trying to figure it out for ages and has literally no idea. So take that as you will.”

“Hm…” Lyf furrowed their eyebrows, and grabbed some of Brian’s hair to start including it in the intricate braid they were slowly forming, when they saw something… odd, on the back of Brian’s neck. Lyfrassir frowned, and lightly touched the area around the– what looked like a switch, on the back of the pilot’s neck.

Brian tensed, freezing at the soft touch of Lyf’s fingers. “Ah- don’t touch it, please? I like the mode I’m on right now. I’ll– if I need to switch it I’ll ask.”

Lyf nodded, pulling their hand away. “Right, yes sorry…”

A few moments passed in silence, as Lyfrassir continued to work. “You can ask, you know. I don’t mind explaining.”

Lyf bit their lip, but nodded, despite the fact that they knew Brian couldn’t see them. “Okay… What– what is it?” they asked.

“It’s– have you heard any of the others say ‘MJE’ or ‘EJM’ around me?” They answered with a noncommittal hum, and Brian continued. “They’re referencing that switch. Ends Justify Means or Means Justify Ends. Fun or Boring, according to the Crew. When Dr. Carmilla made me, she implanted that switch in the back of my neck. It’s, most simply, a morality switch. It doesn’t exactly change how I view the world, but it does change how I interact with it. Please don’t ah, please don’t flip it if I don’t ask? Raph’s been working on making it less so, but whenever it’s flipped it’s… It’s not a pleasant experience for me, personally.”

Lyfrassir nodded again. “I won’t, promise. Although that is… An odd thing to give someone.”

“Don’t think too hard about it, Lyf. It’d only give you a headache.”

Lyf hummed in response. “Is– is that why your hair is so long? To hide it?” They hadn’t seen it until now, and besides a few jokes or comments here and there from the other Mechanisms, hadn’t heard anything about it. If it was truly as unpleasant as he said, it would make sense if Brian just didn’t want to talk or think about it.

Brian, however, laughed at that. Loud and bright, it did… odd things to Lyf’s heart. “No, no, uh. I just like the long hair. It’s warm, and it gives the others a fidget toy. Besides, I uh, I feel pretty? With long hair. While I was strung up in Camelot, it was actually kind of ridiculous how long it had gotten. Sometimes I cut it, but I normally never let it get shorter than just above my shoulders.”

“Oh,” Lyfrassir responded. “Huh. Well… Your hair is very pretty, and very braidable. Even then, though, we’re probably going to be here a while. You have a lot of hair.”

“That’s okay,” Brian said. “I like the company. Aurora isn’t as much of a conversationalist as she used to be.” At that moment, she decided to slam her doors and blow cold air into the room. Brian laughed again. “I’m just being honest, ‘Rora! It’s wrong to lie!” Aurora huffed and blew a stream of cold air at Brian, which just caused him to laugh again. Lyf smiled a bit.

“I don’t know, she seems plenty conversational to me,” they said. Aurora creaked in appreciation, blowing warm air at Lyfrassir’s face.

“Would you like some songs while you work, Lyf?” Brian asked. “I keep a banjo in here, just for when I’m bored.”

“I– sure, I suppose. Play away, Brian.”

The drumbot nodded, and reached over to where a banjo was skillfully hidden under his pilot’s chair. He settled back in, and began to play.

—--

“Aurora?” Lyf sighed, after turning into the same nondescript hallway for the fifth time. They couldn’t keep doing this, they had just wanted to get a snack. “Where am I?”

A screen appeared on one of the walls, as Aurora creaked and the fans whirred in a way that Lyf was starting to understand was usually laughter. They walked closer to the screen anyway. ‘You are in one of my hallways :]’ the screen read. Lyfrassir sighed.

“Yes, I’m aware that this is one of your hallways. Where am I in relation to the kitchen?”

A map appeared, showing that the kitchen was three floors above them. They furrowed their eyebrows, one set of eyes darting around while the other continued to stare at the map. They could’ve sworn that the kitchen was below where the O’Neil Rings connected to the main ship, not above. And furthermore, Lyfrassir couldn’t see any easy ways to get upstairs on the map. There were only pathways that led to other places on this floor, or down into the bowels of the ship.

“Aurora?”

‘Yes? :]’ flashed on the screen, above the map.

“How am I supposed to get to the kitchen? How do you have so many floors and passageways in the first place?”

‘I like to feel tall.’

Just as she said it, the map changed again and a new doorway appeared not far from where Lyf was currently standing. “You’re a rocketship,” they pointed out, “you’re already tall.” However, as far as they knew, there was no way that she should’ve had the space for all of the rooms and all of the hallways that existed inside of her. The O’Neil Rings themselves were confusing–it seemed like they appeared and disappeared out of existence. Lyf still wasn’t sure how exactly they were even connected to the ship, how they could walk from their room into a hallway that led into the main body of Aurora without any main connection points for the rings, at least none that Lyf had seen.

‘You should head to the kitchen before I decide to remove the stairs again, Navigator,’ Aurora wrote out. ‘Otherwise you might miss your chance. :]’

They sighed, and started walking towards the door that had appeared. They were never going to understand this starship.

—--

“Mx. Lyfrassir!” The Toy Soldier called. Lyf… didn’t know where exactly it came from. But it might have simply appeared–they were getting used to it doing that.

“Ah, hello, Soldier…” Lyfrassir turned to face the wooden thing.

“I Have Something I Wish To Present You With!” It exclaimed, smiling brightly and, somehow, blankly at the same time. They supposed that was to do with the fact that it was made of wood, and had a limited expression range due to that.

“Oh?” They responded. “What is it?”

The Toy Soldier clapped excitedly, grabbed their hand, and pulled them along to its room–which only further confused the former-Inspector. When the pair arrived at the Toy’s room, there was a tea party set up. This was not unusual, Lyf had learned pretty quickly that when it wasn’t whittling or patrolling the hallways or engaging in a game of Murder Hide and Seek or Murder Tag with the others, it was either practicing the mandolin or the glockenspiel, or more likely it was hosting a tea party with whoever it decided was its victim of the day.

“What’s this for, Toy?” Lyf asked, raising an eyebrow, their two sets of eyes split between focusing on the tea party and The Toy Soldier.

The doll walked into its room and gestured to the beautifully decorated–probably porcelain?–tea pot at the center of the party. “I Have A Gift For You!”

Lyfrassir blinked slowly at the wooden figure. “…What?”

“The Tea Set! It Is A Gift For You, I Have Sets For Every Member Of The Crew, And You’re Crew Now! Do You Like It?”

“I, uh…” Lyf walked closer, and examined the tea pot. The base color was a shiny black, and it was decorated with bubbles of rainbow and silvers and golds that made the pot look like it was painted with an oil spill. And on top of that, brilliantly colorful and shiny beetles encircled the width of the pot’s belly.

“Jewel Beetles,” The Toy Soldier said, pointing at the bugs. “They’re From Earth And Terra, But I Believe There Were Similar Bugs Found On Alfheim, And You Said One Of Your Mothers Was From Alfheim! I Thought It Was A Nice Touch, And The Colors Match That Which Paint You And Yggdrasil’s Remains. They’re Also On The Cups!”

The cups were equally extravagant, with the same base oil-spill design, with three beetles decorating the circumference of the cup. The lip was covered in silver-gilt, and the handles were carefully painted with Old Norse Runes. The plates that the cups were sat on included the same runes, and the same oil-spill design and silver-gilt lips.

“I… Toy- I… Thank you, Toy Soldier. You didn’t need to.”

“Whatever Do You Mean, Old Bean?” The Toy Soldier tilted its head, staring at them. “You’re Crew Now, Old Bean! And Everyone In The Crew Has Their Own Tea Set. And That Includes You, Now.”

“I’m not immortal like you all,” Lyf reminded the wooden thing.

“That Doesn’t Matter! You’re Crew Whether You Like It Or Not, And I’d Rather Say We Should Get On With Our Tea Party Before The Tea Gets Too Cold!”

The Soldier Sat down at the slightly too short table, beginning to pour two cups of tea. Lyf nodded, and followed its lead. “Thank you, TS.”

“Of Course, Old Bean!”

[moltensmusings]

I have a question about your RWBY au: how would you handle teams facing consequences when making a big decision that backfires?

My problem with RWBY is that despite making choices that should had have consequences (telling government secrets to Robyn hill, pointing a gun at Whitney, agrus incident etc) the characters instead get rewarded for their actions.

What will you do differently?

I apologize because this got long and maybe veered a bit from the original question but here we go.

For a TL;DR: we need better world building, more apparent character flaws the narrative actively calls out, and villains to be dangerous

I think the main issue with why RWBY never had proper consequences, is that it largely operated (and still somewhat does) on rule of cool. Characters are powerful when the plot demands it in ways that kind of make the stakes feel nonexistent.

To properly implement consequences for characters we need to know what their flaws are and what they could get as punishment if those flaws aren't handled.

Our characters have some referenced flaws, but often times their flaws either never get checked because the writers don't view them as flaws needing to be fixed, or they're excused in canon. Bad things don't happen to them mainly because they mess up, they happen because bad people do bad things.

While pyrrha is the character I'm most annoyed about with the lack of depth, all of them are written to be cool and kind of flawless. So first step is I'd set up clear flaws from volume 1 and have them face consequences that will carry over long term. Here are some examples.

Ruby: For Ruby I feel like she tends to focus on handling things herself. She's incredibly self reliant to the point that she makes a lot of choices to do things solo that ultimately could get her killed. But the writers never go that far. She faces off against Cinder twice and leaves unscathed, if we're going to have her track Cinder to the tower, Ruby needs to leave wounded. Allowed to live because Cinder let her. Give her a scar that remains on her for the rest of the series. Maybe it's normally covered but it's a reminder of the dangers she faces. And even then we don't have to have her learn her lesson yet.

Yang is one where her consequences will effect the Atlas arc. Because I want her semblance to make her black out when she rages. Something she never focused on fixing because normally she could direct it before she blacks out so that the only person hurt is the one who caused the rage. Her teachers keep warning her of the damage she does to the area around her and how her black outs get longer the angrier she is. But she kind of waves it off because she's had this semblance for years and she knows how to deal with it.

However during the vytal festival when there are several competitions between schools and we build up a rivalry between team villain and team rwby we see her anger boiling. She's containing it and does a good job for a while, but the Mercury fight is the last straw. When she attacks Mercury its not just that she hits him once, in fact the villains new her rage made her black out and expected her to hit once. She downs him bad. She has to be restrained and the entire of remnant bears witness to her building rage culminating in her pummeling a kid from a different school. And when she attacks Adam that's once more her lashing out before thinking leading to her arm loss. When she travels she's met with wariness and fear because people know her as the girl that destroys.

Her six month hiatus is not just full of her wallowing over her arm, but angry over everything and raging out sporadically. I'd honestly give taiyang the same semblance as her being the one to help her train to properly control it. But the shadow of her actions won't disappear and people will try to exploit that weakness if she doesn't curb it.

For Blake it would be her being a traitor and running. RWY need their trust regained by her that she'll have to actively work towards doing so but it won't just be them. In Atlas Ironwood knows her past because he would've run checks on any people if interest and found her connection to Adam who was one of the people leading the attack on Beacon and subsequently also was the leader of a group that attacked Argus. Finding out she was a loyal follower of him almost her entire life means that she isn't let into the inner circle and in fact spends most of her stay in Atlas monitored and on probation. The group vouches for her but that can only pacify someone like Ironwood slightly.

For Weiss I'd have her actually be very loyal to authority figures in a way that often causes arguments between her team and her. In Atlas it would cause a major fight because if Yang were to spill secrets to Robyn, Weiss would probably avoid speaking to her for a decent amount of time. I think by that point she'd not outright tell Ironwood herself, but she would be furious at the disrespect. It would mean that more often than not, she's causing unnecessary disagreements in the group but it would also mean that she knows best how to handle people in places like Atlas.

Largely I'd just have a big focus on how dumb choices they make effect their relationships with people outside of the core group. Revealing secret information leads to Penny becoming very disappointed in them and a slight breakdown in the friendship. Potientially if Yang did it without talking to the others it now means Yang gets into a verbal fighting match with the rest of the gang because everything starts to go wrong.

Going off to fight things alone or not properly training means you get into situations that could maim or kill you. Trusting anyone too easily can result in someone dangerous entering your group with the intent to cause harm.

In general I'd really just focus on building flaws, turning down power levels at the start, and making the world and villains more dangerous. Also I think making each kingdom distinctly different in its politics and government could've helped make it so that the group trying to approach all situations the same backfires a lot. It's something I'd have to rewatch the show for to list specific instances of things I'd make consequences for but those are my current notes.

[vidreview]

some thoughts on Action Button Reviews

[originally posted december 22nd 2023]

ANONYMOUS ASK: Not a recommendation because I know you've already seen it, but I remember you (this being like a year ago) calling Tim Rogers' action button reviews boku no natsuyasami something along the lines of "a triumphant demonstration of what's possible in the video essay medium". I was wondering if you could elaborate, provided it hasn't been too long. I recognise I'm blasting you from the past here lol. It was one of the few hours-long video essays that I didn't mind sitting through, though I'm still not sure it quite justifies its length. Tim's delivery helps significantly there, in a way that reminds me of Caleb Gamman's casual/improvised-feeling but thoroughly scripted shtick.

oh i still think Tim Rogers is hands down the best in the biz. i've watched the Action Button reviews multiple times, i've got a davinci resolve project with all his videos in, studied them under a microscope and taken lots of notes. i think his work absolutely does justify the length, because rather than trying to say Everything There Is To Say about a game, he instead focuses on digging into the game's relationship with his own hyperspecific subjectivity. i don't know how else to describe the Action Button reviews except as literary media criticism, using incredibly in-depth analysis as a jumping off point for discussing how these games shape us and the culture, the role they occupy at various stages of our life, and how who we are at any given moment is just as important to our opinion of a game as the game itself. sooner or later i want to do a full-on VIDREV on his stuff, probably in video essay form, but consider this a first draft overview of why i find his work so special.

there's little things. despite the length of his videos, he never fails to get to The Point (his term for the thesis statement) within five minutes of starting the essay proper. he is a talented and quick-witted tour guide, funny and clever and philosophically ponderous all at once. his work is clearly designed to reward multiple viewings, yet never fails to feel complete on a first watch. he writes with a precision of language that'll knock your socks off if you let it, especially if you're willing to go with him on his seemingly non sequitur tangents. but it goes a lot deeper than that.

i just don't think anyone else is putting nearly as much time, effort, and thought into the moment to moment particulate matter of his video essays than Tim Rogers. there are a ton of little mistakes that quite a few essayists make as a result of only doing one or two complete editing passes, or otherwise not sitting down and watching their video start to finish at multiple points in post-production. things like bad audio mixing, cut-off breaths and sounds that ought to be removed, stray frames from footage creating accidental jump cuts, flubbed line deliveries, misaligned overlay elements, sloppy compositing, the list goes on. it's no great sin to make these mistakes, mind-- no one's being commissioned, most essayists aren't professional editors, there's no quality control or review board or institutional best practices. it's the difference between giving the kitchen a quick once over with a rag and getting on your hands and knees to scrub every stain with a toothbrush. most people don't have the time it takes to do the latter, aren't getting paid enough, and the returns on putting the effort in are impossible to measure and therefore, practically speaking, nonexistent.

but as someone who tries to put that kind of work in (not always successfully), i can always tell when another essayist has done the same. longform video essays in aggregate tend to be messy, under-structured, rambling; they often arise out of an essayist's desire to say everything they could possibly say on a subject. not only is this an impossible task, it makes for a pretty dull viewing experience to boot. what i find so impressive about Tim Rogers' work is that despite their length, his videos are relentlessly structured. the attention to fine details in the moment-to-moment edit across the whole runtime is astonishing; that the script itself is so internally integrated never fails to make me furious (with professional envy). he always has a lot to say, not all of which is strictly speaking essential to the analysis, but nothing ever feels so indulgent that it drags the rest of the essay down in my estimation. he often repeats information, but he does so very strategically and in a way that's meant to help the viewer follow a thread from start to finish. i also think his presentation style goes a long way towards hiding how much effort he puts in, how relentlessly curated these things actually are in spite of their length. he's talked extensively about how much he cuts from these videos (most prominently is story 5 from the Cyberpunk 2077 review, which went from over an hour in length at first draft to, eventually, just over a minute), how he watches them back over and over and constantly makes fine adjustments. that work won't be apparent to everyone watching, but it's exceedingly apparent to me.

and then there's the cherry on top of it all, which is the fact that the Action Button reviews are constructed as being part of "seasons" that have a planned thematic throughline. taken as a whole, season 1 is a completely unique work of literary metacritical nonfiction, a series of six reviews (Final Fantasy VII Remake -> The Last of Us -> DOOM -> Pac-Man -> Tokimeki Memorial -> Cyberpunk 2077) that use specific games to talk about trends in game design, trends in gamer culture, the history of games development, all through an astonishingly earnest and open autobiographical document of Tim Rogers' own professional and personal life, which is given particular weight by his astonishing capacity for near perfect recall from early childhood. they are the clear result of a life spent thinking about and writing about and talking about games in between all the rest of his life, neither of which was ever truly separate. i know i'm throwing around a lot of superlatives here, but i really do adore these essays. i think a lot of folks doing longform games reviews try to achieve a sort of technical objectivity, limiting the scope of their analysis to strictly what's in the game (and often only that which involves numbers, leaving any narrative or thematic components to a brief aside at the very end). the Action Button method should fall into that category, and yet Rogers himself uses its technical objectivity as an anchor around which flows an endless and unquantifiable ocean of subjectivity, where game mechanics and thematic elements mix forever. each subsequent review drops a new anchor, and thus begins to compose a map whose purpose is as much a matter of self-reflection as it is pure education or analysis.

but i really do think it's with the first (and so far only) episode of season 2, his review of Boku no Natsuyasumi, that you can really see the cunning of what he's been up to all along. i often find myself thinking about his reflections on returning to Kansas ("it took me back to a place i had never never been"), on why people rewatch movies and replay games ("our memory only records the cold parts"), on the futility of trying to recapture the past ("places don't remember us"), on the screaming terror of our own looming mortality ("meanwhile our shattering animals"). i just know those quotes off the top of my head, man, that's how deep in it i am. the Boku no Natsuyasumi review is a masterpiece, and the ways it breaks from the style and approach of season 1's reviews only strengthens the choices he made in season 1, because suddenly we realize that they were choices. that's the artfulness of this series, in my opinion: it starts as, seemingly, a relatively bog-standard "i'm going to review some video games and make some jokes and tell some stories along the way" type joint, but slowly reveals to you essay by essay just how little of this project was automatic, unconsidered, arbitrary, and that its aims were never so miniscule as "tell you why a video game is good". there are themes running throughout the entire series, repeated phrases and ideas, theories of mind and play that build in the subtext, accruing like memories, subtly building mass until you look back and realize that what seemed like a random selection of topics was, in truth, premeditated with a conspiracist's attention to detail.

and yet despite all this high-minded gobbledygook, these videos are relentlessly watchable and entertaining. i don't always agree with his takes (i was particularly frustrated that his exploration of "every cyberpunk game" omitted the flood of relevant titles that came the indie sphere over the last decade, like Cloudpunk and Read Only Memories), but they're not the kinds of disagreements that would make me sour on his work overall, and anyway the experience is so much more valuable than something as rote and immaterial as an opinion. there's so much more i could say (and inevitably will say, someday), but there you go, that's a rough gloss on what i like about the Action Button reviews.