Mustafa's New Anthology

The Audition:

This is Part Two of the New York, New York Series where I thought it would be fun to explore a realistic jaunt into the past. It's mostly self indulgent fluff, although just to be safe...

Triggers: fluff, lite smut at the end, saccharin sweet hand holding, alcohol consumption, descriptions of athletic (f) body, slight profanity, description of cigarettes, RPF re: Narcos audition

Lazily, you stretched your body like a cat, noticing your bedmate sprawled out next to you. Their pink button nose twitched with sensitivity as the morning light streamed in from the crusty window. You twisted your feet against the multi-colored quilt, blinking sleepily into the daylight. New York, New York. What a wonderful town.

Giving one final stretch you nuzzled your furry bedmate to happy purrs and biscuits and placed your feet on the cold wooden floor, padding down the hallway of your Airbnb. Standing at the kitchen counter you prepared the small metal espresso pot, cracking your joints noisily. Rehearsals had been a dream, but the wear and tear of New York foot traffic was nothing to scoff at. You’d met your creative team, perused the show sketches, started choreography, fell in love with your cast mates and moved into Ripley Grier. You’d even memorized the sketchy subway patterns and Thai Food take out locations, but you hadn’t done one thing.

Bumped into Mr. New York.

You licked your lips in anticipation as the espresso pot boiled in front of you. Pedro.

Pedge.

He seemed like more of a Pedge. Your guardian angel. That bumpy landing followed by a whirlwind arrival had almost completely derailed you in a New York minute, but something about those swirling orbs of chocolate-eyed concern had stuck with you. In a city that never sleeps it seemed almost ludicrous that you’d bump into him again. The cat delicately wrangled itself through your poised ankles as you poured a steaming cup of liquid energy into a chipped cup. But in the Big Apple, you smirked, anything can happen.

After two weeks of rehearsals things were going well, but they’d sent you further downtown for your final costume fitting and you had NO idea where you were going. The bustling underbelly of the New York subway system still had a certain romanticized grime, but WHY were you always lost? You nearly tripped over a discarded scarf and elbowed your way to the approaching train as your hair blew back in surprise at its gust of wind. Allowing the sea of humanity to exit you merged with the entering crowd and took your place, eyeing the suspiciously sticky puddle to the left of your feet. Assume the position; wide stance. Gripping the pole with one hand you took a deep breath and…there he was.

Face contorted in focused concentration and holding a nearly empty Venti Iced Starbucks Cup, along with loose leaflet pages, an iPod, phone and wallet. You smiled nervously, attempting to hone your skills of telepathy. If New York had taught you one thing it was to immediately seize every opportunity that presented itself, because the Big Apple waits for no one. You slid your way through a barrage of annoyed faces till your belly button was positioned nearly in front of his nose. You cleared your throat, but he remained buried in his concentration amidst the metallic, humming atmosphere. A busker began singing “Falling Slowly” and for one horrifying moment you considered disappearing into the masses, but noticing the large print on his cup, your curiosity got the better of you.

“Brown Eyes???!!!!” you exclaimed as his eyes darted up to your face with surprise. Dropping his pages on the subway floor, you nearly bumped heads trying to pick them up as a headphone now dangled unceremoniously, twisting in the air.

“J!” he smiled, brightening up the entire car as it slowed to a halt with a grinding crash. Having forgotten your wide stance, you nearly fell over backwards as he grabbed you by the front of your shirt and awkwardly pulled you onto his lap.

“Oops!” he blushed, pulling the other headphone out and beaming. “I wondered when I would see you again, how are rehearsals?”

Having temporarily forgotten your name and all manner of information you took quick note of the stubble dotting his chin and scent of something woodsy. Clearing your throat you stood up shakily, attempting to press your shirt down unsuccessfully. “It’s going great Pedge!”

…oops…

“Er…can I call you Pedge?” New York City: One, J: Zero.

“Of course!” he shouted patting the open seat next to him. Plopping down, your eyes took in the sides he was holding in his hand.

“Narcos” you nodded “intriguing”.

“Oh” he deflated a bit, rubbing the back of his neck. “I mean, I got a callback for tomorrow, but I can’t even get arrested, even after the…thing..” he lowered his voice conspiratorially, whispering into your ear, eliciting a small shiver.

“Well good, Narcos are supposed to arrest people, not the other way around” you joked. “Unless you’re playing a bad guy? What’s the scene?”

He chuckled light-heartedly handing over the pages, “It’s not the dialogue I’m worried about.”

Your eyes widened like saucers reading the lurid description:

Javier Pena and Helena are fucking on the living room couch. Liquor bottles and cigarettes sit in the foreground as the camera pans to their naked bodies. Javier finishes quickly, and eventually lays back on the couch to light a cigarette.

YOU nearly dropped the pages this time, reddening in embarrassment. “Are you playing Helena?” you coughed, watching his eyes sparkle before you.

“No, they said my tits were too small” he pouted, taking the pages back and smirking mischievously. You pursed your lips, attempting to hold back a laugh. Saucy devil.

“I mean, this is probably nothing compared to..the thing…” you repeated, referencing his recent GOT gig.

“It’s true, we had lots of nudity in that one” he agreed. “I’m pretty okay with it as long as I check with my scene partner, but this feels different somehow…” he trailed off.

“It feels more intimate” you surmised.

He winked, rolling the pages into a funnel and chewing his lip.

“They really should have somebody on-site to consult for intimacy scenes” you pondered. “I know I'm preaching to the choir here, but it’s about a lot more than just stripping and calling ‘action’! I’m never quite sure how to handle those auditions myself…”.

He nodded, bumping your knee with his and sipping down the final dregs of his espresso.

“Particularly with coffee…no wonder you’re so wired!” you pinched his knee sardonically as he crumpled with embarrassment.

“A man’s gotta eat” he huffed, pausing to think. “Wanna grab lunch?”

You’d never played hooky in NY, but your costume fitting wasn’t for another hour and Pedro pulled you through the epicenter of Times Square as you dodged a mostly Naked Cowboy and a dubious looking…Elmo? You tilted your head upwards, taking in the large marquis signs and towering hotels. “God, I hate Times Square” he muttered under his breath, weaving precariously through the tourists and tchotchke shops featuring every manner of “I Heart NY”.

“Shake Shack okay?” he nearly shouted into your face, gripping your hand tightly and moving forward at a breakneck pace.

“Sure!” you exclaimed, unsure of its significance, but excited to feel the vibe of the city. You could feel the pulse of his hand gripping yours, noticing a small tattoo in the crook by his thumb.

“It’s like “In and Out!” he retorted, “but even better! I know….sacrilege. You’ll thank me later, I promise…” whisking the door open and nearly shoving you inside. The rest of the day was a blur as one hour became two and two became four. You both raced into the costume fitting, still holding hands and giggling like kids. The repetition of the sewing machines and office talk immediately silenced you, as you made bee line for the fabulous individual wrapped in measuring tape and bright pink feathers.

“Darling, you’re 30 minutes late” they dead panned, eyeing you up and down suspiciously.

“I know I’m so sorry! I get lost everywhere I go! Is there still time for the fitting?” you panted, biting your lip apologetically.

“Come with me to the dressing room” they breezed past you with newfound amibition. “Your boyfriend can sit in the waiting area…”.

You gulped loudly, dropping Pedge’s hand with embarrassment. You looked over at him as he made a funny face. “Looks like I got the part” he chided, bopping you on the head with the Narcos sides and placing his hand on your lower back.

You felt your body temperature raise slightly as you headed into the backroom. Stepping into the curtained area you gawked at the gorgeous, red sequined dress hanging in front of you. Running your hands over the material you quickly ascertained its functionality. Breathable. Moveable. Wait, a minute. This plunging neckline was a bit too…plunging, as in, all the way downtown. Hmmm…Unable to reach the zipper in the back your eyes widened in concern.

“Move it or lose it honey!” the seamstress yelled, drawing the curtains back theatrically. “Let’s see what God gave ya!”. They pulled you into the center of the room as Pedge’s mouth dropped open in surprise.

Your black laced bra was fully visible through the non-existent front panel, and that one freckle on your butt cheek peeked out from the unzipped back portion.

“Sold” Pedge whispered with a graveled undertone, as the the seamstress arched a well manicured eyebrow to high heaven.

“Well that’s one way to sell tickets” they joked, yanking the zipper closed in the back as Pedge’s eyes darkened seductively. He cleared his throat, shifting with discomfort in the seat, and readjusting his pants with one hand.

“Looks good to me” he piped up, giving you a wink and twisting his mouth comedically.

“Thanks, boyfriend” you smirked, hoping your tits weren’t pointing directly through the fabric.

You floated through the rest of the afternoon in a dreamy hazy. They had released you from the day of rehearsal and Pedge convinced you to take a stroll in Central Park. Cyclists and kids dotted the hillside, and you couldn’t help but notice your hands seemed to brush together a lot in passing. Grabbing some ice cream from a nearby cart you found yourself uptown near the Metropolitan Museum of Art. About to step foot into the crosswalk a horse drawn carriage nearly bulldozed over you, as Pedge grabbed you around the waist protectively.

“We’re walking here!” he shouted, flipping the man off, and holding on to you a bit longer than was necessary. “You okay?” he asked, reaching up to wipe the ice cream remnants from the corner of your mouth.

“Never better” you smiled, lifting one foot slightly off the ground.

Meg Ryan, eat your heart out.

Pedge grabbed your hand as you walked into the massive, echoing chambers of the Met, grabbing your audio guide and museum map. “I prefer the Guggenheim, but the Met is unreal” Pedge beamed, ushering you into the Egyptian room with pride.

“I have decided…dat for the rest of the day…we are going to talk like dis” he whispered to you in front of the ceiling high paneled windows. “Waiter…”

“Waiter…” you smiled with acknowledgement.

“There is too much pepper on my paprikash…”.

You started giggling with delight until you both blurted out:

“But I would proud to partake of your pecan piiiiiiie!!!!”

Dissolving into fits of laughter you noticed a security guard clear their throat noisily in response.

“What, are we going to Katz's next?” you whispered clandestinely.

“I’ll have what she’s having” his voice dropped about an octave, grabbing you by the jean pocket and pulling every so slightly. Your breath hitched in your throat, noticing your close proximity. He didn’t break eye contact for so long you thought he might kiss you, but then he sighed heavily, dragging his hand across your abdomen. “Told you it was beautiful” he grinned, grabbing one of your fingers lightly and leading you through the open hall.

Sharing an audio guide, you were joined at the head, giggling in hushed overtones and pondering some of the classic art pieces. Walking into a room filled with ornate insignia and full bodied armor, Pedro twirled impressively, lunging forward with athleticism.

You took an embarrassed look around to make sure you weren’t catching unnecessary attention.

“I haven’t even told you anything about Croatia for GOT!” he exclaimed, a bit too loudly as you shushed him clandestinely. “There’s this scene for this MAJOR character that drives everyone nuts, and there’s an assassination attempt…” you covered his mouth with mouth hands smiling up into his face.

“Stawp!” I don’t even know the characters and you’re probably not allowed to talk about those details ya big goof!” you whispered, as he kept speaking in muffled tones into your hand. Darting his tongue across your palm you yelped with surprise. “Stawp!”

He grabbed your hand back and blew a stream of air over your fingers. “Do you want me to do a palm reading?” he asked, suddenly serious.

“Um, sure? Can you do that sort of thing?”

“Verrrrrry convincingly…” he joked, rubbing one finger down the epicenter of your hand. You shifted your weight tensely.

“I see an…interesting stranger in your future” he cocked one eyebrow up, bemused.

You rolled your eyes, poking him in the sternum as he chuckled. “What about money?” you pointedly asked, placing your other hand on your hip.

He closed his eyes dramatically, humming under his breath. You waited with anticipation, moving slightly closer, feeling the heat emanating off of his body. He brought your hand up to his forehead with bravado, “Zoltarrrr sayssss….actors never make…moneeeeeey” he chanted, opening his eyes to find you mere inches from his face. “Hi” he whispered, pressing his thumb into your palm and bringing it down to your side.

“I suppose there are things worth more than money” you mused, completely transfixed by his pouty lower lip. Watching his Adam’s Apple bob in his throat hungrily, you reached up and placed a hand to his neck feeling his feathery pulse intensify with the closeness.

“Nah” he broke the tension with a wide smile, giving you a quick peck at the corner of your mouth and running away like a kid in a candy store.

You stood with your mouth agape, beaming from ear to ear. Ah, the culture of art.

“Sick of me yet?” he questioned, caging you in against the vibrating subway door.

“Hardly” you yelled, covering your mouth in immediate embarrassment. “But what about your callback?”

His face registered slight shock for a millisecond, remembering the day’s events, and then shrugging his shoulders. “Eh, I’ll probably call my agent and bail. I don’t think I’ve got a shot in hell…” he reasoned.

“Nonsense!” you retorted. “I’m putting you to work immediately! You’re still in Brooklyn, right? We can grab some Thai and run your lines.” you tipped forward slightly with an unexpected bump, nearly brushing lips.

Pedge’s eyes sparkled mischievously. “You’re not gonna give me a line-reading are you?” he teased, pinching your chin lightly.

“Only if you suck” you wrapped your fingers around his wrist playfully. “I generally ask for compensation via foot massages”. Pedge glanced down at your feet with curiosity. “I think that can be arranged.”

“I haven’t…laughed this hard in years…” you wheezed, attempting to balance the Thai Food, wine and Pedge up four flights of stairs. Pedro dropped the keys in front of his apartment as you finally doubled over in laughter, tears streaming down your face.

“Stawp, stawp!” you pleaded, holding your stomach. “You’re gonna make me peeeee….”.

“Absolutely not!” he bellowed. “My landlord will fine me for that!” he burst into the apartment, trying to drag you over the threshold amidst your gasps for air.

“We haven’t even started drinking yet…” you barely managed to get out, crawling down the hallway to what seemed like the bathroom. Returning to the kitchen a few moments later, Pedge had grabbed some paper plates and opened the two buck chuck.

“Bon appetite!” he smiled gesturing broadly to the delightful spread as you took in the meager New York residence.

“Very bachelor pad” you teased, poking him in the ribs and gazing at the futon, clothes rack and piled books. “Okay Mr. Bibliophile” you observed, catching the titles of “The Color Purple”, “Meisner On Acting” and an art book on Rousseau.

“It’s no Versailles, but it’s home” he grinned, taking a large bite out of the crab rangoon.

Inhaling your Thai Food, you were already two glasses of red wine in, and had to remind yourself to slow down. You were just having so much fun, talking about character development and fighting over the last spring roll.

“Do I have to goooo tomorrow?” he whined, plopping down on the couch with faux theatrics. “Couldn’t we just…go to another museum? Oooh, have you ever been to Lincoln Center? Or Sardis?”

“No, no, no” you laughed, sitting opposite him on the couch and gazing intently into his eyes. “Do you think you have it memorized yet?”.

He turned his body to face yours, returning the intensity of your focus. “It’s not like there was a lot of dialogue” he reminded, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear tenderly. You swallowed dryly, feeling the happy effects of the wine buzzing around in your head. Curling your legs underneath you and resting your hands definitively on his quads you lectured.

“As you know, film and television has a much more intimate intensity than the performative styles of the theater…”

His eyes widened with acknowledgement “Thank you Professor J…”.

“Shuddup!” you giggled, continuing. “The most important thing you can do to maintain emotional intimacy for the camera is body language, communication and eye contact…” you informed, licking your lips and concentrating on his.

“Is that so?” he leaned in, returning your gaze and starting the scene.

“We get better every time we practice” he placed his arms on either side of your legs, moving in closer.

“You’re amazing Javier” you drolled, smirking sardonically.

“Well, don’t go overboard” his eyes darted down to your wine stained lips as you tipped backwards onto the couch.

“What you’re missing in this apartment is a woman” you teased, pulling him gently forward and straddling his torso with your knees.

“It’s fine the way it is” he rasped moving his head down to your sternum and placing a small chaste kiss across your midriff.

“Good…blocking” you managed to whisper. “Improvisation is…essential” you ran your fingers through his hair gently.

“What are you doing this weekend?” he intoned into your chest, now nibbling at your solar plexus.

Your breath came in shallow bursts, as you tried to remember your lines. “Uh….work or play?” you muttered, as the lines between lines blurred hazily.

“Ven aqui” he looked up, drawing his hands up the sides of your body slowly and pausing to cup the back of your neck.

“What?”

“Dame un beso” he drew one finger across your lower lip seductively, resting his body weight carefully atop you.

“I think that’s my line” you sighed.

Time seemed to stand still as you both held the moment, intently.

“I think tomorrow…you have a very good chance…” you smiled.

WIP Poll Pike's Place

This is my first writing year on Tumblr and as per @burntheedges "Roll-a-Trope Challenge" . I love Pike. And I love the cinema ALMOST as much as he does (did you catch some of our holiday movie references in Episodes 1-3?). Looks like Pike and I are both going to be watching Die Hard. What would you watch?

Pedge's Bookshop The Talk

Bookshop: As per your recommendation, Joel is our shop owner. I think there's something appealing in a man who says little, but obviously feels so much. I just finished reading Pedge's rec for "Crime and Punishment" and it's a doozy. Joel has a lot...or very little say about it.

Triggers: spoilers for "Crime and Punishment", "Last of Us" canon, profanity, gun, sexually threatening situation, cat allergies...

Series Masterlist

Word Count: 2k

“Now, just because Teach is comin’ to the house more often, don’t mean that she’s like…your mom or somethin’…”.

Ellie winced awkwardly hearing the stilted words fall out of Joel’s mouth in his decidedly Southern drawl. This was easily the most uncomfortable conversation she had ever had. What topic was he going to broach next, the birds and the bees? Watching the reddish tint creep up Joel’s neck, now reaching to the tips of his ears, Ellie saw a rare opportunity to rib him a little.

“Just one question…” Ellie somberly muttered, casting her eyes deceptively downward to the bookshop floor hearing Joel’s gruff affirmation in response. “If your condom breaks, does that mean I get a little brother?” Ellie’s mouth turned upward in mischief, watching the crimson hue completely drain from Joel’s chagrined face as he froze in temporary emotional paralysis.

“Maybe we can call him Rascalnikov for short?” Ellie teased as Rascal the Cat quipped its head to the side in curiosity. Joel’s face registered a millisecond of recognition before he exhaled the breath he had unknowingly been holding, chuckling softly under his breath.

“Fuckin’ teenagers” he muttered, his shoulders quaking slightly with laughter. “Look, unless you want an earful, just get home a little later tonight, okay? Me and the Teach are gonna have some adult time…”

“…Discussing literature?” Ellie interrupted, kicking at Joel’s booted foot playfully.

“…Discussing LITERATURE, among other things” Joel continued wryly. “But this is all real new, and we don’t want to rush into anything that…”

“…Makes us extremely uncomfortable” Ellie continued to jest, rolling her eyes clairvoyantly. If Joel was determined to drag this conversation out, then she was going to have her fun with it. Ellie was actually excited to form more of a connection with you. In your conversations you had already formed a connection, and your response to her had been so welcoming and inclusive. Besides the sharing of clandestinely housed secrets, in you, Ellie had found a mentor, a friend and a teacher. Someone who understood the darker parts of humanity, maybe even of themselves, but didn’t shy away from it. And Ellie desperately needed more people like that. But she wasn’t done humiliating Joel while his soft underbelly was exposed.

“You know there are lots of ways you can be intimate with someone, without risking a pregnancy…” Ellie continued watching Joel’s jaw lock with embarrassment. “I’ve been reading some VERY educational material here at the Bookshop that Maria and Tommy should DEFINITELY have read…”.

“Jesus Christ” Joel wiped his hand over his face with annoyance. “Are ya done yet?”

“Oh I’m just gettin’ started” Ellie razzed before acquiescing to his point.

“Just…nothin’s changin’. It’s still you and me” Joel’s eyebrows pinched in the center of his forehead with real concern as Ellie considered his words carefully.

“All jokes aside…it’s okay” Ellie hesitatingly pondered. “I like Teach a lot, and so do you. But things are gonna change. Things always do. We’ve just gotta make it our business to change with ‘em.” Ellie nodded her head curtly as though agreeing with herself. She had already lost enough in this world to know how temporary things could be, and knew that life was meant to be lived. Hesitate for even a millisecond and your entire existence was a flash in the pan. Ellie wasn’t going to go out quite so easily.

“How’d you get so smart?” Joel mumbled, kicking back at Ellie’s foot good naturedly. 

“Did you hear about the Buddhist who refused Novocain?”

Joel stalled in confusion, squinting his eyes skeptically.

“His goal was transcend-dental-MEDICATION” Ellie paused triumphantly as Joel brought his hands to his hips with defiance.

“I’m leavin’”. Joel grabbed his winter coat heading for the door huffily.

“Atheism is a non-PROPHET organization” Ellie called after Joel as he stalked past her gruffly shooing Rascal the Cat out of his way deftly.

“Be home by 10, BUT NOT BEFORE!” Joel reiterated, flinging the bookshop door open, a hefty bounce in his step she hadn’t previously noticed.

“Hope you get an ‘A+’!” Ellie managed to get in before the bookshop bell sounded cheerily and Joel was out the door and headed home. She smiled to herself victoriously, looking around the Bookshop happily.

Good for you old man, she chuckled, heading into the back room to grab another stack of books. The store was nearly assembled, and despite Joel’s grumblings she knew that he was anxious to open it, not just for the rest of the commune but for the admiration and encouragement of his favorite customer; Teach. All that remained was a special exhibit featuring the Book of the Month, “Crime and Punishment”. Options were still limited, but the display would include a dirtied copy of “Anna Karenina”, “The Master and Margarita” (which was unfortunately in Russian), and a collection of short stories featuring Chekhov. It was somewhat miraculous they had the options they did, so Ellie was smiling as the bookshop bell rang upon her re-entrance to the main lobby. “Forget your condoms?!” she chided, now hearing the tell-tale hissing of Rascal as her stride was abruptly halted in revulsion.

Levi.

What the hell was he doing here? She looked around the Bookshop noting her avenues of escape, and was continually grateful for the wide open window transparently showcasing their interaction. However, the backroom now forebodingly loomed behind her. She resumed her confident path to the front counter, pocketing a nearly dried out ball point pen. “What do you want, Levi?” she spat, mirroring Rascal’s aggressive reception.

“Ain’t got to want something to visit the commune bookshop” Levi retorted, dragging his dirty fingers along the display shelves and kicking at the cat with annoyance.

“Well, we’re actually closed, so why don’t you come back when you learn how to read” Ellie responded sweetly, gripping the pen abrasively in her small hand. This felt terrifyingly familiar, and she wasn’t going to lose the upper hand. No one was coming to save her, and she was all too ready to take care of herself.

“Well ain’t you got a mouth on ya?” Levi judiciously appraised, picking up the showcased copy of “Crime and Punishment” and tossing it unceremoniously back on the table. “You remind me of the Teach, when we first met”. Ellie bristled noticeably whilst battling her own curiosity. Levi was no friend of hers, but knowing more about the Teach and her background was an interest she couldn’t deny.

“I’m surprised she didn’t run circles around you” Ellie bantered, watching Rascal bob and weave like a feline prize fighter, ineffectively batting a small paw at Levi’s boot.

“Can’t say she didn’t” Levi offered, his hands outstretched plaintively. “But surely you know, sometimes circumstances force our hand. Most people would be willing to do whatever it takes to survive”.

“Endure and survive” she almost whispered.

“I like that!” Levi feigned enthusiasm, now drifting behind one of the tall bookshelves, his voice eerily echoing in the Bookshop. “Endure and survive!” he re-emerged, peaking out from behind a different bookshelf, now several paces closer to the front counter.

“What do you want, Levi” Ellie growled, shifting a few feet closer to the doorway and trying to situate herself nearer the exit. 

“I’ve got my eye on you…and Teach” Levi threatened, contrasted by his all but beaming countenance, as he edged closer. Rascal latched his serrated claws onto Levi’s tall boots, but found him undeterred.

“What is that supposed to frighten me or something?” Ellie countered, gripping the pen harder in her now sweating hand. She could go for the eye, or the jugular if she had the right angle. Maybe Rascal could prove a worthy distraction.

Levi reached to the side, donning a small revolver that he brandished in front of him like a toy. Ellie’s eyes widened to the shape of saucers. Leave it to her to bring a ball point pen to a gun fight. What could he possibly gain by shooting her in broad daylight? He couldn’t be serious. Levi was many things, but crazy wasn’t one of them. Before Ellie had a chance to register what was happening, Levi slid the gun across the counter proffering both hands before him in surrender.

“Thought I’d lay all my cards on the table, before you had a chance to doubt my intentions” Levi drawled, leaning on the opposite end of the counter and ignoring Rascal’s hissing and caterwauling. “How old are you anyways?”.

“Too young for you” Ellie bluntly stated before greedily grabbing the gun and pointing it in Levi’s direction. His eyes shifted darkly eyeing the barrel of the loaded gun and licking his lips slowly. “‘Sides I don’t date psychopaths” Ellie joked, waving the gun towards the door. “Get out of her Levi, before we both do something we’re gonna regret”.

The look in Levi’s eyes flashed a momentary dejection, as the cat finally abandoned its attack and slunk off to the back room in defeat. “Ya gonna shoot me, before you even know what I have to say?”

Ellie slowly cocked the gun, relishing the clicking metal beneath her fingers. “Fuck around and find out, Levi” she breathed deeply, focusing on what Joel had taught her about marksmanship.  

“Yeaaaaah” Levi’s honeyed voice almost smothered her with its poisonous sweetness. “You’d do it, wouldn’t ya? But I know somethin’ you don’t. You think you’re so special, like you’re the only one with passion or desperation?” Levi inched closer as Ellie backed up. “Nothin’ special about the will to live.  Saw it in Teach. Saw it in Joel. See it in you…” Ellie held her breath, considering her options. She’d killed before, and she could do it again.

“Go ahead. I like my girls fightin’” Levi stretched his arm towards Ellie as her foot unexpectedly caught on the lip of the rug. Without even thinking, the pull of the gun slammed back violently against her hand as a bullet grazed past Levi’s shoulder and lodged itself in the nearby bookshelf. Ellie’s eyebrows shot up to her forehead, a mixture of bravado and shock as she flung the gun back on the counter towards Levi’s surprised expression.

“I’ll be damned” Levi sighed, slowly taking the gun and returning it to the holster disappointedly. He sounded almost disheartened as he regarded Ellie with a newfound clarity. “Guess I have my answer” he sulked, giving one final look to the Bookshop before heading towards the door. “Maybe you’re not like Teach at all…” he appraised, casting one final look back before jerking the door open swiftly and ducking out. Ellie gripped her chest anxiously, as Rascal the Cat poked its head out from the backroom, meowing with uncertainty. 

“It’s okay, he’s gone” she muttered, rounding the corner and laying a finger to the bullet lodged in Joel’s fine workmanship. A small party of men went running down the main thoroughfare, ostensibly in search of the ruckus as Ellie winced with embarrassment. Maybe she would just keep this little altercation to herself. But one thing was quite clear; Levi was a threat to more than just her, but also to the lives of the entire commune and the people she cared most about. As far as Ellie was concerned, Levi couldn’t leave soon enough. She plopped herself down on the floor unceremoniously as Rascal sidled up next to her with encouragement, purring softly.

In this moment she was assured of her resolve, and had never felt so certain of anything. She would protect, and she would kill. She would do whatever it takes to keep her future lodged safely in the palm of her hand.

And she would do it, by any means necessary.

The One That Almost...

Triggers: meandering weirdness, SH, ideation, illness, spirituality, asexuality, profanity...good luck...

Y'all, this year was strange. I doubled down on therapy and fitness...and crying, if we're honest. I went back to an old job for less money. I started communicating more with my employer about chronic illness, and I disappeared from a vibrant social life almost entirely.

No Pedge, my darling, I am NOT okay, but in 2024 I developed a genuine appreciation for that. Having survived a hysterectomy, my body is embarking on the next strange reboot, and most of the holidays were derailed because of this.

I'm not sure I've ever cried so much or been so confused. Yesterday I didn't even leave the house, and today I'm visiting the parentals to celebrate New Year by 8pm flat. And then I'm leaving lol. I've been so encouraged by Pedge's unconventional holiday because I feel like he GETS it.

I'm displeased with the election results, my parents are struggling, and my health prognosis is nebulous. I was offered a Broadway Tour that I declined, did no substantial traveling, and cultivated an AMAZING friendship with a man who is on the other side of the country. Broke up with my "gay husband", experimented with an "ace" label, discovered I don't want to get married or have kids, and am deconstructing my spiritual beliefs one devastating reality at a time.

AND...I'm writing a TON. I'm showing up more authentically in ALL my relationships, including self. I am more convinced than ever of the experience of Love, and somehow I continue to make my world a better place. I'm turning out to be the love of my life!

It's confusing as hell, but I'm not dead yet, and by golly I'm happy about that! I get to exist! I still haven't met Papi Pascal, but I'm not actually sure I want to. Everybody I know who has worked with him says he's a dream, and I believe them. Just knowing that we exist in the same world makes me happy, and today, that's enough. Plus, I had one quick convo with Coco, and she's just as sweet as our guy. I continue to be entranced.

Adding the button to my year of "almosts" I've been waiting to celebrate having 100 followers...as I'm stuck at 99. I considered doing some sort of Tumblr campaign, but honestly, WHY? I write for me! Goals are good, but this almost seems more fitting. I have a bazillion WIP's and it's helping me get through my health challenges, and that's what I need right now. As much of our Pazookie Pedge as we can STAND, and then a bit more...

So here is to a year of "almosts"! None of it looked quite right, it didn't follow my agenda, and it involved a lot more snot than anyone has a right to. But I still get to exist, and there's nothing "almost" about that. Thanks Pedro Pascal for being alive! I'm gonna try to do the same...

Pedro Boys

Pedge and I have FINALLY started writing fics for the Pedro Boys and we wanted to have a spot where they could all catch up! Check out the masterlist below!

Pedro Pascal Pedge Cuddle Couch New York, New York Series Baby's Beats (short) Javi Gutierrez Afterglow: Phoenix Rising Marcus Pike Charcuterie Challenge A Different Happy Ending Pike's Place Pike's Playlist (short)

Frankie Morales Moody Frankie Frankie's Favorites (short) Joel Miller Moody Joel Peach and Apple Pie Crime and Punishment Joel's Jives (short) Max Phillips Blood Sucking Witch Max's Mix (short) Javier Pena Afterglow Series Pena's Playlist (short) Dieter Bravo Yes Chef! My Darling Muse Dieter's Deets (short) Marcus Moreno Thanksgiving Delights Din Djarin Unmasked Platonic Love

Pedro at the Beach

Ah! This turned out a little better than I was expecting! I didn't get to do as much sewing as I wanted, but featuring some Pablo Neruda poetry and my handy dandy PP coloring book among other things... We know our guy likes the beach...

Afterglow Series Workplace Benefits

*thank you @almostfoxglove for the sexy moodboard, I'm inspired!

The Afterglow Series is more focused on intimacy and unexpected situations, so please imbibe accordingly. Javier Pena is so voracious, I wanted to explore what would happen if he met his match.

Triggers: Prostitute POV, empowered woman in a safe transactional relationship w/ Javier Pena that evolves into more vulnerability, a little physical aggression, profanity, alcohol use, aftercare, crying (there's always crying), P in V, a little more smutty than most of my stuff, more valiant attempts at Spanish however inaccurate...

Series Masterlist

You loved your job. It wasn’t the type of thing you could easily discuss with your sister and the futbol moms. But you felt empowered as fuck, and prostitutes were more protected than ever. To be honest, you didn’t really think of yourself in those terms. What you thought of was the money and the sense of power you felt, holding important men, quite literally by the balls. And Javier Pena was one of them.

You’re not sure when, but at some point, things had begun to shift. At first, he came over for a quick whiskey and a fuck. And then one time, he arrived on your doorstep, already drunk and cuddly as a teddy bear. You don’t think he even remembered, leaving $100 bucks on your nightstand and thanking you for a “good time”. There was a routine of sorts, and sometimes he was flat out aggressive, but you never had a problem with that. As long as he paid, you were happy to incur a few bumps and bruises, and knowing he left happy, your income was relatively secure. But last week, he came by, perfectly sober and ready…to talk? It wasn’t a DTR, that would be ludicrous. He just wanted to talk. You kept trying to lure him to bed, but he endlessly deflected, making you laugh till you nearly snorted iced tea out of your nose, ordering  tacos from the seedy joint downstairs, and still leaving $100 bucks on the nightstand after you fell asleep watching tv. What the non-fuck was going on?

Today seemed like the routine as per usual. He’d shown up on your doorstep, raring to go, whiskey in hand and lust pouring from his steely gaze. Several breaks in, he’d enjoyed himself profusely and you found yourself being pounded from the back, as his sweaty hips thrashed against you loudly. Until….you had a problem. You were cumming.

The day had been fine, you’d already had several clients and were looking forward to seeing Javier in the evening. Feeling relaxed and unfocused you hadn’t realized your body was careening out of your control until this very moment. A quick surprising breath caught in your throat as you attempted to stifle a low moan…

“Que?” Javier questioned, as though telepathically linked to every nerve in your body.

You tried to play it off as one of your many performances, “Oh Javi more! So wet, so wet…” until you realized those statements weren’t a fabrication. Your legs were already trembling and the room was starting to spin around you.

“You like that, pobrecita?” he kept a relentless pace, jack hammering into you from behind. “You never tell me what you like…” he grunted appraisingly.

Your eyelids fluttered shut of their own volition as the silvery thread of arousal coursed through your veins fluidly. This can’t be happening, your mind stuttered, attempting to divorce yourself from the powerful sensations ebbing through your body. You prided yourself on your professionalism, but quite honestly, you didn’t get into this career for…sex. Most of the men that came to you were escaping a disappointing home life or were otherwise sexually unsuccessful, so their last concern was your pleasure, and that was fine for you. No reason you needed to be vulnerable in the workplace. The money was compensation enough and you could pleasure yourself on your own time. But Javier Pena wasn’t a regular guy, and when it came to sex, he was actually good at it. He came for his own pleasure, but that included yours, and he was down to try anything. Honestly, it was just a matter of time, but you had remained irresolute and focused up until now. And now, you were cumming.

The harder you tried to swat the idea away, the stronger the impulse grew. Small tendrils of pleasure that pulsed at your core, stuttered breaths that caught in your throat, whimpers of ecstasy that escaped from your mouth; Javier was devouring it like a man starved.

“There she is…” he drawled, grabbing you by the throat and hoisting you backwards until your back was pressed against his sweat glistened chest. “Are you going to cum for me, hermosa?” he panted into your ear, as you shook your head slowly.

“No, no, no” you had dropped all pretense of performance, realizing your body seemed to be acting of its own accord. You dropped your hands to your clit, rubbing in quick circles now desperate to get off.

“Mine” Javier growled into your ear, grabbing your wrists and yanking them around his neck as he angled up into you, harder still. You cried out in anguished ecstasy, confused at the unbidden sensations tingling throughout your being.

“M-m-more…” you began to mumble incoherently, no longer concerned with the loss of control, and only focused on your pleasure and nothing else.

Javi tipped you forward violently, re-situating himself in a seated position, and then abruptly pulled you back onto his lap, pistoning up into you at the most  delectable angle. Your entire body seized up in a pre-orgasmic throb. He gripped you tightly, calloused fingers palming your breasts, kneading and pinching as all thought left your mind completely. You were a ray of light, pleasure itself, his heat sheathed inside you, piercing the darkness and eradicating everything else. You’re not even sure if you spoke out loud, but the primal awareness that you were cumming, clouded time itself, until there was no denying it anymore. You threw your head back against his shoulder and cried in a silent scream, softening into a guttural moan of euphoria. Your body was fluid, liquid gold, dripping and melting over his hard figure. He worked you through your release until you pulled at the nape of his neck, weak with overstimulation. He drew his palm down the front of your salt soaked body and then flipped you around in a tangle of arms and legs, nearly collapsing on top of you, lowering you to the bed.

In the dull recesses of your mind you felt the throb of embarrassment, but not yet cognizant enough to grasp it with any enthusiasm. Holding onto your cloud of your contentment, you were vaguely aware of Javi’s absence, assuming he had left the appropriate amount of money on the bed stand and made a quick exit. You felt your heat twitching and throbbing with the loss of his presence, but thankful he had left you to your own mortification. It had been so long since you felt comfortable enough to enjoy yourself with someone else, you were nearly shocked it was still possible. You swallowed dryly, blinking away the tears. Damn endorphins, you sniffled, freezing as a figure appeared in the doorway with a washcloth and water.

“Drink, hermosa” he commanded as your eyes widened to saucer shape. He was still here. Was he angry? Did you just lose your best customer, and this was the swan song? Appraising your silence he brought the glass of water up to your parched lips tentatively, eyeing you with slight concern. You started shivering slightly as your body attempted to regulate itself into normalcy. “Are you hurt?” he demanded, sitting on the edge of the bed and lifting you to a seated position so you could drink.

You shook your head slowly, devoid of intelligence as the tears began to dry on your cheeks stickily. You flinched with surprise as he began rubbing down your legs and mid-section with the washcloth. “Shh, shh…” he shushed, as though coddling a small child as your body relaxed with relief and exhaustion.

“You don’t have to do that, Javi” you muttered softly, grabbing his wrist gently, but as yet unable to meet his eyes.

“Porque, eso cuesta mas?” he pondered, a small smirk shadowing his countenance.

“I’m not charging you for tonight” you murmured, turning your head away from him in defeat, until you felt him reach around and draw your chin back towards him.

He drew his thumb across your lower lip, not saying a word, a pained expression pinching at his eyebrows unexpectedly. “Inestimable” he whispered, almost to himself, kissing you lightly on the lips and withdrawing to the bathroom. You sunk down on the bed, unsure of what might happen next. Your ears were still ringing from the high, and your body felt like a heavy weight drawing you further into the mattress. You heard the soft click as Javier shut off the lights and crawled into bed with you tentatively.

“Puedo quedarme un poco mas?” he paused, his body hovering above yours.

You bit your lower lip in the dark, pondering the uncharted territory. No one ever asked to stay. Should you charge for that? Your thoughts were becoming more muddled and your eyelids heavier still, as you wordlessly tucked your body into the crook of his side, huffing a small sigh of defeat. No more thinking. Just sleeping. Javi wrapped his arms around you, breathing deeply at the crown of your forehead. 

“Smell good” he mumbled into your hair, as you started to drift into darkened oblivion. He was rocking you ever so slightly, and you didn’t have the energy to make any arguments whatsoever. You hadn’t felt this content in a very long time.

Swallowing dryly, your eyes blinked into the sunlight, hearing the motorcycles putter to life in the streets, and the vendors selling Cafe Caribe for the morning commuters. You sat up abruptly, reaching sideways to feel the cool sheets under your fingertips, noticing the hundred dollar bill grinning at you from the bed side table. Next to it, you saw the small cardboard cup, steaming with the chocolate aroma of your morning cafecito, note scribbled hastily across it…

“Thanks for the f@ck, hermosa. See you next week”. The small heart drawn in the corner winked at you as you smiled to yourself.

You loved your job.

*thanks @samspenandsword for the dividers!

God Said No...

Thank you to @auteurdelabre for our beautiful coloring book! I've so enjoyed the recent foray into poetry and was reminded of Pedro's voice note via Omar Apollo's album, "God Said No...". Here's an excerpt for your enjoyment...

@littlemisspascal  @lizette50 @beefrobeefcal @sawymredfox @anelva @wordywarriorwrites @burntheedges @inept-the-magnificent @timelordfreya  @schnarfer @devineconjuring @mermaidgirl30 @galaxyedging @joelalorian @joelmillerisapunk @jennaispunk @sheepdogchick3 @marcus-is-my-muse @guiltyasdave  @copperhalfcent @bluesweaters15 @drewharrisonwriter @darkheartgatita @harriedandharassed @brittmb115 @confusedpuffin @yorksgirl @quicax3 @shaunasflannel @shinyanchorobject

What Happened to Belen?

Thank you to @auteurdelabre for our beautiful coloring book! I so enjoyed reading Pedro Pascal's book recommendation "What Happened to Belen?" and found it particularly insightful. For those of us Joel girls in mourning I wrote a pivot fiction for Pena you might check out at Pedge's Bookshop! Pair it with Pena's Playlist for the full Narcos experience :)

“Two days from now will be the first anniversary of the date I effectively regained my freedom. How will I ever forget the day I set foot on the street again, with my angels! How will I ever forget how much they helped me! How will I ever forget all the women who spent hours waiting to welcome me outside! How will I forget my fellow inmates, police guards and the night we said goodbye! How will I ever forget my family, who was anxiously waiting for me! How will I ever forget that day! Everyone awaited my return after two and half years of unjust imprisonment. How will I ever forget that was the day…I WAS REBORN! How will I ever forget the day one of my angels put a pencil to paper and wrote down the words I couldn’t speak! A year after my release I can only give thanks to God and my angels. Who is it that said we don’t have angels? I can testify today that they exist. How will I ever forget that amidst all the anxiety and distress my angels were there with me, holding my hand and listening. I am eternally grateful. Thank you! Thanks to every woman and every organization, to the women’s movements and to all the people who did their part to help me, who put on their “Freedom For Belen” T-shirts and went into the street to fight for my freedom.”

"What Happened to Belen" is written by Ana Elena Correa

@littlemisspascal  @lizette50 @beefrobeefcal @sawymredfox @anelva @wordywarriorwrites @burntheedges @inept-the-magnificent @timelordfreya  @schnarfer @devineconjuring @mermaidgirl30 @galaxyedging @joelalorian @joelmillerisapunk @jennaispunk @sheepdogchick3 @marcus-is-my-muse @guiltyasdave  @copperhalfcent @bluesweaters15 @drewharrisonwriter @darkheartgatita @harriedandharassed @brittmb115 @confusedpuffin @yorksgirl @quicax3 @shaunasflannel @shinyanchorobject