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Afterglow A Different Happy Ending

Hey y'all, this is a part of the "Afterglow Series" that delves into more intimacy than usual. I wanted a safe space to explore our sexy time activities that are unexpected or confusing.

Triggers: mentions of experimental M to F pegging (F receiving) and aftercare, lite profanity, mostly a lot of talk and crying (always crying)...our heroine is intent on expressing her needs and Marcus Pike seemed the most accommodating Pedro Boy to listen...

Series Masterlist

Your eyes shot open in bleary confusion. Something was up. Perhaps a bad choice of words as the evening’s events cascaded into your memory from a blurry, dark reaching corner of your body, as you started to take stock of your immediate situation.

You gently rolled over, hissing with discomfort and swallowing dryly. Marcus lay on his side, placid expression, breathing deeply as you smiled at his peaceful countenance. You rubbed your legs together as a pang of arousal and pressure shot through you like a lightning bolt. A pathetic whimper escaped your lips as Marcus blinked rapidly, joining you in the land of the living. His eyebrows immediately furrowed together as he rasply asked, “What’s wrong, baby?”

“Nothing’s wrong!” you answered a bit too quickly, shifting away from his transparent expression and attempting to hide your chagrin. It was your birthday, and you had been begging, pleading even for a sexy time adventure slightly different than the straightforward and delectable classic vanilla that Marcus excelled at. Marcus didn’t leave you wanting in any way, but the gals in your Pilates class just couldn’t stop talking about some of their sex-capades, and you wanted to experiment too. I mean, with enough lube, ANYTHING was possible you had reasoned, and brought your birthday request to the man himself.

You weren’t surprised to discover his hesitancy, primarily because of his concern that he would hurt you, but you were determined to bend your body and every orifice as much as your heart would allow. Seems that while your heart was malleable as fuck, your other rose had puckered to tightened heights. The euphoria of the previous evening washed over you, even as you gripped your thighs together, wriggling uncomfortably. Damn. All that talk, and it seems you had enjoyed yourself a bit TOO much. You looked down at your midriff to see bruised fingerprints splayed across your hips and etched into your thighs from his vice of a grip. You smiled at your bodily trophy, but already aware of the deleterious effect it would have on your bedmate. This would not go well if you couldn’t play it off as the momentary speed bump it was. 

“Did you enjoy your birthday present” a seductive hand wrapped around your stomach as Marcus began kissing at the back of your neck, adding more pressure to your…pressure. You cleared your throat with embarrassment, trying to steady your breath.

“Oh yes, it was everything I dreamed and more!” you tried to sound breezy and flippant but you were starting to become concerned. Did this mean he wouldn’t experiment further? You were such an idiot, thinking you could keep up with the twenty somethings at the gym. Marcus paused for a moment, trying to get a read on your tone of voice. Damned if that man wasn’t a mind reader of some kind. Always concerned with YOUR pleasure, YOUR orgasm, YOUR needs. But in this moment you were silently praying Marcus would lose his telepathic abilities.

Resuming a trail of kisses down your back and getting dangerously close to your discomfort of the moment he continued on unawares, “Does the birthday girl get a morning surprise?”. You felt his hardened length bump against your ass as you twitched slightly, willing your body to quiet down.

You gulped loudly, feeling the blush creep up your neck unceremoniously. This swirling vortex of emotion was starting to get out of hand. You couldn’t even pick apart everything happening; embarrassment, arousal, annoyance, concern, fatigue. But maybe there was still hope! That gnawing thought in the back of your mind threaded its way into your consciousness as you definitely wanted to experiment more. New sensations, new abandonment…and total submission. Out of the mind, out of the ass, out of the heart. Cum on. Butttttt….Marcus immediately stopped with your silence, a growing awareness clouding his morning ministrations until you heard his voice drop about an octave.

“Oh my God”.

You rolled your eyes anticipating the emotional wreckage, “Baby, it’s not that big a deal…”. You awkwardly shifted back to meet the roundest, warmest saucer shaped eyes that have ever existed. He looked like he had stopped breathing, and tears were already threatening to spill from those chocolate-colored orbs swimming before you.

“Oh my God” he caught sight of the light purple bruises peppered across your hips, covering his face with both hands. “Baby, gawd! You told me to keep going!” he whined, sitting up quickly and laying a feather light hand across your stomach. “What can I do? Advil? Water? Do we need to go to Urgent Care?”

Your mouth dropped open in comical surprise, taking his face in your hands. “Urgent Care? Honey, they’re bruises! This isn’t that scene from “Twilight”, you haven’t broken anything…”. His face didn’t register any shift at all, and you wondered if your words had even penetrated….nope…another bad choice of words as you winced slightly at the new seated position.

“Oh my God. I’m calling my sister…” Marcus reached over, hands trembling to grab his phone, as you deftly removed it from his hands and dangled it above his head.

“No thank you Romeo, I do not want the entire Pike Family up in my business as much as you were last night…” you heaved a heavy sigh of remembrance, trying to ass-certain how you might convince him for future sexy time experimentation.

“How can you make jokes at a time like this?” he pleaded, drawing his hands around your shoulders as though you were a porcelain doll. “I’m gonna draw you a bath. Can you walk?”

You started to chuckle with incredulity until you wondered if his question wasn’t altogether ridiculous. You bit your lower lip before it started wobbling out of control. You and Marcus had been together for a while, but you still wanted him to find you attractive and exciting. This was hardly a page out of “Sex and the City” if you couldn’t even walk to the bathroom after a birthday celebration YOU had demanded.

“Um. I think so” your voice seemed to disappear as you noticed more plumping bruises across your ass and breasts. This was all your fault. “Gosh, I was just having so much fun, maybe I got a little carried away” you said, almost to yourself.

“Well, I’m glad THAT part of the celebration went as planned” he sighed with a bit of relief, cupping your face with his hand. “You are taking it easy today, young lady. No work. Only movies. Ice packs. Advil…” he rubbed his lower back, getting out of bed and stretching for a moment. “I’m gonna look online for over the counter remedies, and draw you that bath…” he kissed the corner of your mouth with a nearly infinitesimal amount of pressure. “AND WE’RE NEVER DOING THAT AGAIN” he smiled with solidarity and headed into the bathroom.

Everything he had said sounded good to you…except that last part. Your heart shattered into a million pieces as you sucked in a desperate breath. My body, my rules, you thought. It obviously takes two to tango…or however you would describe what you tried last night…and you would never want Marcus to be uncomfortable. But you wanted to make sure he understood your desires. Despite the bruised fingerprints to the contrary, you had offered more than an enthusiastic YES, and it had only peaked your curiosity, not dulled it. But maybe your request was…unreasonable? Marcus wouldn’t hurt you to save his own life. The tears threatened to reappear as you thought of all the ways Marcus took care of you; pancakes, flowers, post-it-notes, hand made lunches. And here you were, the Scarlet Woman, debauched and depraved, hoping your boyfriend would rail you into the mattress until you broke. A lump started to form in your throat as you blinked away the tears. Pull it together, pull it together, pull it together. A small pain throbbed in your nether regions as your breath began to hitch in your chest and tighten. Come on woman, it’s your birthday, you rationalized, but that thought only pushed you closer to the emotional precipice you were already balanced precariously upon. And then you couldn’t help but wonder; what if Marcus never touches you that way again? What if he never touches you at all?

Your face wrenched up in a contortion of immediate distress. This was a bruise completely unseen but burying itself into your imagination. You started to squeak like a small chew toy, perseverating on this most ridiculous thought and hugging yourself around your ribcage. A small sob escaped your lips as you heard the bathtub roar to life and Marcus’ voice drift in echoing, “Okay, do you want lavender or eucalyptus epsom salt?”

You bit down hard on your lower lip, irrationally determined to stop the overflow of emotions, but tasting salty tear after salty tear that annoyingly dripped down your cheeks. 

“I think I found a bath bomb!” he melodiously intoned, but stopped abruptly upon seeing your small nervous breakdown. He rushed forward, kneeling at the bedside and grabbing his phone again, “I’m calling my sister”.

“Stawwwwwp!” you whined, throwing the phone across the bed and starting to hyperventilate. Unfortunately every hiccup radiated through your lower body with unnerving sensitivity as you gulped and winced and laughed at your own predicament.

“Baby, please, how can I help?” Marcus went into full puppy dog mode, lightly rubbing your leg and lower back. “I’m so sorry”.

“No, I’M s-s-orry!” you wailed, growing more distressed as the moments passed. Marcus shook his head, continuing to rub your back. “I was h-h-having so much, f-f-f-fun…and it was such a g-g-good b-b-b-irthday…” Marcus reached up to wipe a trail of snot from your nose as you unraveled. “And n-n-n-ow you’re never gonna t-t-t-ouch me again!!!” you cried, throwing up your hands in despair. There. The Scarlet Woman, debased and unhinged, mockery of society and bedroom sexcapades, humiliated for all to see.

“Take a deep breath for me please, birthday girl. And let’s take that from the top, with feeling” he mused, wiping another tear away and tucking an escaped hair behind your ear tenderly. You took a big breath, holding it in your mouth theatrically as he counted to five, and puffing it in his face surprisingly as you burst into cautious laughter. Wincing slightly at the lamaze-like activity your hiccups started to quiet down as he rubbed large circles across your back, smiling broadly.

“I’m gonna go out on a limb and say that…for some inexplicable reason…you…enjoyed our celebrations last night, and want to make sure I’m not over-reacting?” he tentatively pondered, as your nodded emphatically in the affirmative, hiccuping and wincing some more. “Alright, and maybe in a couple days, AFTER you take your Advil, and AFTER we watch “Casablanca” and AFTER I make us some pancakes you wouldn’t be opposed to…an encore of some kind?” he ventured, nodding in agreement with your bobbing head as your sniffles quieted down. He pursed his lips thoughtfully, considering your request and dragging a finger slowly down the front of your body and pausing at the top of your clit tentatively. “I have a complimentary request as negotiations proceed” he whispered watching your pupils dilate with lust and watching his finger hover over your heat expectantly. Not hearing a response he continued, “I’m going to need a lot more prep time, giving you the attention you deserve if you expect me to split you in half on every birthday”.

You swallowed loudly, surprised at his uncharacteristically lewd comment, but hopeful that he meant every word of it. You nodded slowly as he tapped your clit VERY lightly eliciting a small jump from you and a giggle of affirmation. “Yes please” you managed to get out as he stood up from the floor, ghosting his lips over yours tantalizingly.

“Ummm…can you carry me to the bathroom please?” your nose wrinkled up with embarrassment, not entirely sure if your legs would carry you themselves.

“Your bath awaits, m’lady” he drolled, hooking an arm softly under your backside and pulling you into an embrace...

*thanks @samspenandsword for the cool dividers!

Feeling Finkish

Holidays were rough, but this guy kept me company!

*thanks soul sparklettes art for the cute scrapbook background!

The Trailer; All About Eve

Trailer: Inspired by the @auteurdelabre VHS Club, we are going to deconstruct these favorite movies and write some analogous fics taboot. Javi will be our theatrical custodian, but other Pedro Boys might join us for cameo appearances....

Concessions Stand: Don't forget to grab your sweet treat before heading into Pedge's Cinema. Check out "The Unbearable Weight of Perfection" by @wardenparker which should fit the bill nicely....

Triggers: This was a lot more complicated than I realized; spoilers for "All About Eve" (dialogue usage), no smut but romantic situations, discussion of ageism/misogyny, male infantilism if you squint (?)...

Series Masterlist

Word Count: 5k

The week of acclimation had blearily raced past in happy contentment, and most of that was due to your newfound friendship with Javi. Italy was a close second. Since that first fateful encounter at the local movie house, you and Javi had become fast friends. Setting up a happy rapport of tourism and conversation had motivated the entirety of your summer stay. Every single morning, Javi arrived with two espressos, occasionally befriended by the local pastry options and after reviewing the evening movie choices, Javi would whisk you to the first of many cinematic locations. Visiting Venice and hearing about “Three Coins In the Fountain”. Touring the Vatican and talking about “Roman Holiday”. And enjoying gelato while Javi waxed philosophical about the Italian centered Nicholas Cage movie “Time to Kill”…which was actually about Ethiopia. Your friendship was like something out of a movie, and you relished every morsel of it. But this had done nothing to prepare you for the start of your Summer Internship. Having flitted away this “week of preparation” you found yourself on the doorstep of your next excited academic exploration, with little to no idea of what it might entail.

“I think we should take the students to all of these important cinematic locations!” Javi exclaimed, plopping down on the living room couch and beating clouds of dust out of the nearby pillows. Coughing and sputtering in allergic response, you opened the nearby veranda windows to the sunlight of the day.

“Are you my newfound TA for these events?” you jested, sipping your espresso tentatively as Javi had already inhaled his.

“Absolutely! Would you like that for your first day of class, Principessa? You don’t have to tell me how nervous you are…” Javi pouted, drawing the pillow up to him like a baby he was trying to cuddle. You stomach lurched with excited anticipation. You WERE nervous to meet the students and begin classes, but you were also excited to be working with your colleagues and gaining artistic insight into the rich history of cinema and storytelling.

“That’s VERY sweet of you Javi, but I know you have your big meeting tomorrow. I don’t want you to miss it…”.

“Are you talking about my very important industry meeting with international superstar and personal friend, Nicholas Cage?” Javi’s smile delightfully curled at his lips as you sat across from him on the couch, playfully propping your feet up on his lap.

“Oh I’m sorry, are you friends with THE Nick Cage?” you taunted, poking him slightly in the stomach and watching him crumple with embarrassment.

“Don’t tease me Principessa, we’re just meeting on the Skype. Besides, I’m still waiting for you to read our screenplay. I want all of your thoughts on the narrative quality of our story. Of course, Nicholas Cage will star” Javi’s eyes widened to an imploring gravitas as you shook your head with incredulity.

“I AM excited to read it Javi, but you haven’t given me half a moment! We’ve been bouncing from one tourist attraction to another…not that I’m complaining” you observed, rubbing your calves mournfully from all the walking Europe seemed to motivate.

“Would you like for me to recite it, right now?” he questioned, reaching over to massage the base of your foot, before you dissolved into a fit of laughter at the tickling sensation.

“I kind of hate to say this, but I think you need to go away for the next few hours. I need to plan my curriculum, organize my collegiate schedule for colleague introductions and…apparently read a screenplay this afternoon” you launched a pillow good-naturedly at Javi’s head as he began to sulk.

“But we have not yet been to the Trevi Fountain!” Javi lamented, collapsing against the couch dramatically and closing his eyes forlornly. “Perhaps we should watch “La Dolce Vita” this evening for our cinematic selection?”.

“Ah, no, no, no! You promised me we could begin with my teaching curriculum, starting with the Hollywood classic, ‘All About Eve’” you threatened, poking Javi once again and eliciting a small growl of protestation.

“I DO like Betty Davis, though she’s no Nicholas Cage” Javi retorted, setting a heavy hand on your upper thigh, as you attempted to stifle an unbidden shiver. “Very well Principessa, I will leave you to your cinematic studies, now appropriately fueled by the caffeinated nectar of the gods. What culinary selection would you prefer for this evening’s festivities?” Javi stood abruptly, towering over you at nearly six feet tall.

“You better bring the martinis and milkshakes, I’m going to procure a pizza from the trattoria down the street” you salivated, looking towards the kitchen with skepticism.

“Milkshakes?” Javi wondered, jaunting towards the door and grabbing his jacket from the nearby chair. “I will endeavor to bring the gelato…” he jovially saluted you, emphatically pointing to his screenplay situated on your kitchen counter and bouncing out through the foyer.

Javi was a ray of sunshine that never seemed to dull, his energy and iridescence was quite contagious. You only hoped all of your relationships would prove so fulfilling during this summer internship. If there was one thing you knew from your love of a masterpiece like “All About Eve”, professional challenges seemed to be hiding around every corner, and no sooner were friendships found, then they were immediately questioned. You prided yourself on your ability to ascertain someone’s intentionality, but would your colleagues be just as welcoming as someone like Javi? Only time could tell. You took your espresso over to the counter and picked up Javi’s screenplay as a curriculum amuse bouche. Let’s get to work…

The day passed quickly as you assembled your talking points for tomorrow’s class and skimmed Javi’s rough draft. You were delighted to discover it was quite good. Slightly meta, and self-deprecating. It would give Nicholas Cage a delightful opportunity to poke fun at his eccentric self. You couldn’t imagine anyone but Javi playing the autobiographical role, but Hollywood would probably find some young 20 something to play the 40 something and call it a day. Pausing to grab a fresh margarita pizza from the local trattoria you caught Javi walking up to your villa, grocery bag in hand.

“Bona note, Principessa!” Javi sang out, as the children raced past, chasing a futbol down the cobblestoned street. “I have returned with flowers, gelato and vodka, the holy triumvirate!” he greeted you with the traditional European kiss across both cheeks as the blush heightened across your freckled face. “We have much to discuss!”

You smiled with anticipation as Javi immediately launched into a descriptive analysis of the screenplay, drawing your attention to several of the analogies you hadn’t noticed. You had just queue’d the dusty DVD to start playing “All About Eve” as Javi synopsized.

“And so you can see how the relationships ARE similar. The protege, desperately desiring validation. Surviving in a world of distrust, ambition and greed. Not knowing where to turn and feeling that youth slipping away like time itself…” Javi gestured dramatically before eyeing a few of his own sun-soaked wrinkles with skepticism. “So many insecurities in our 40’s…” he sighed, raising a glass of vodka infused gelato before settling further into the couch after dinner.

“You’ve really written something marvelous for Nicholas Cage to star in” you agreed, toasting Javi’s milkshake martini concoction with curiosity. “Is that how your friendship really came about?” you questioned, as the memorable soundtrack by Alfred Newman lilted in the background.

“That is for me to know, and you to discover! What is cinema, if not ILLUSION?!” Javi bellowed, pinching at your leg flirtatiously and smiling broadly. “Fasten your seatbelts, it’s going to be a bumpy night!”

The voice of George Sanders intoned in the background,

“To those of you who do not read, attend the theater, listen to unsponsored radio programs, or know anything of the world in which you live, it is perhaps necessary to introduce myself. My name is Addison DeWitt. My native habitat is the theater. In it, I toil not, neither do I spin. I am a critic and commentator. I am essential to the theater. Margo Channing is a star of the theater. She made her first stage appearance at the age of four in Midsummer Night's Dream. She played a fairy and entered, quite unexpectedly, stark naked. She has been a star ever since. Margo is a great star, a true star. She never was or will be anything less or anything else”.

“Betty Davis is quite nearly as big a star as Nicholas Cage” Javi whispered beside you, munching on the final piece of pizza. You smiled quietly, relishing his artistic obsession. You would have thought he would demand cinematic silence, but Javi’s movie enthusiasm was often as unbridled as his general lust for life.

“She must have learned a lot from his pantheon of work” you scoffed as Javi gently nudged you in the side with his elbow, shushing you ineffectively.

“Think me cynical, if you like, but the cynicism you refer to, I acquired the day I discovered I was different from little boys! Bill's thirty-two. He looks thirty-two. He looked it five years ago, he'll look it twenty years from now. I hate men” you moved your mouth in conjunction with Betty Davis as she lamented the joys of industry aging. “I'm not twenty-ish, I'm not thirty-ish. Three months ago I was forty years old. Forty. Four O. That slipped out. I hadn't quite made up my mind to admit it. Now I suddenly feel as if I've taken all my clothes off.”

God, you loved this movie. You looked over at Javi, his eyes shining affectionately as the screen flickered light across his joyful face. A fellow afficianado. “You know, if you wanted to come by after your meeting tomorrow I could use the help. I AM actually a little nervous” you admitted, looking down at your gelato hesitantly.

“Oh Principessa, I would love to!” Javi met your eyes with encouragement. “You are already supporting me in my cinematic endeavors, I would also love to support yours!” he beamed.

You snuggled up beside him, soaking in the exposition by Joseph Mankiewicz;

“The theatre. The theatre. What book of rules say the theatre exists only within some ugly buildings crowded into one square mile of New York City? Or London? Do you wanna know what the theatre is? A flea circus. Also opera. Also rodeos, carnivals, ballets, Indian tribal dances, Punch and Judy, a one-man band, all theatre. Wherever there's magic and make-believe and an audience, there's theatre. Donald Duck, Ibsen and The Lone Ranger. Sarah Bernhardt and Betty Grable, all theatre. You don't understand them all. You don't like them all. Why should you? The theatre's for everybody, you included, but not exclusively. So, don't approve or disapprove. It may not be your theatre, but it's theatre for somebody, somewhere.”

“Did you know that the Mankiewicz brothers were both famous for their literary ability?” you whispered, as Javi remained quietly at your side. “Herman Mankiewicz gained notoriety for Citizen Kane…”. You paused, surprised by Javi’s uncharacteristic silence. Eve Harrington, the antagonist of the movie continued on;

“If there's nothing else, there's applause. I've listened backstage to people applaud. It's like - like waves of love coming over the footlights and wrapping you up. Imagine, to know every night that different hundreds of people love you. They smile, their eyes shine, you've pleased them. They want you. You belong. Just that alone is worth anything”.

“You’ve got to give it to her, she is DEFINITELY passionate, if not unscrupulous” you teased, waiting for Javi’s retort and hearing none. You looked over at Javi to see if he had fallen asleep, but his countenance had taken on an uncharacteristic solemnity that concerned you. “Hey, you okay over there, Shakespeare?” you sat up slightly, watching his brow furrow with consternation.

“Oh. Um, yes, forgive me principessa, just….thinking” he muttered, gripping his knees fixedly and staring at the television screen. Had you done something wrong? Maybe he didn’t want to cuddle on the couch, but wasn’t saying so. You scooted a few inches away, drawing your hands into your lap with disappointment. Glancing at his side profile you watched his Adam’s apple bob tensely as he swallowed hard. What was going on? Betty Davis monologued,

“So many people know me. I wish I did. I wish someone would tell me about me, outside of my own notoriety. What’s in a name anyhow? What is it, besides something spelled out in light bulbs, I mean - besides something called a temperament, which consists mostly of swooping about on a broomstick and screaming at the top of my voice? Infants behave the way I do, you know. They carry on and misbehave - they'd get drunk if they knew how - when they can't have what they want, when they feel unwanted or insecure or unloved”.

“I have to go!” Javi bolted upright suddenly, as you confusedly paused the movie.

“Okayeeeee….are you alright? Do you need me to…?”

“Absolutely not! I mean…it’s time for me to go!” Javi grabbed his jacket lying on the coffee table and gave you a quick peck on both cheeks before nearly running out the door. If it wasn’t so concerning, it might be comedic, as he nearly tripped over his own shoes, farcically wrestling into his evening jacket and flinging the door open. “See you tonight! I mean tomorrow. Thank you for a lovely evening principessa…” and he was out the door.

How strange. You were often apt to conclude that you had somehow misread the situation, but your instincts told you that something had shifted. Was he suddenly embarrassed about his screenplay? It wasn’t perfectly formed, but it was quite good. Maybe you hadn’t offered enough encouragements. You shrugged your shoulders doubtfully, resuming the movie and trying to set your quandaries to one side. You were anxious about class tomorrow—maybe Javi was growing similarly trepidatious about his industry meeting with Nicholas Cage. You sighed defeatedly, trying to release the growing tension in your shoulders and neck. If only real life could be as straightforward as the movies…

Hearing your high heels echo in the lecture hall you tried to conjure the confidence and stage presence of Betty Davis as you read her scintillating observations of women in the performing arts industry,

“Funny business, a woman's career - the things you drop on your way up the ladder so you can move faster. You forget you'll need them again when you get back to being a woman. That's one career all females have in common, whether we like it or not: being a woman. Sooner or later, we've got to work at it, no matter how many other careers we've had or wanted. And in the last analysis, nothing's any good unless you can look up just before dinner or turn around in bed, and there he is. Without that, you're not a woman. You're something with a French provincial office or a book full of clippings, but you're not a woman. Slow curtain, the end”.

Your voice hung in the air as about 20 students gazed back at you with enchantment. Betty Davis you were NOT, but you were delighted to see the cinematic enthusiasm of your summer students.

“And what do we gather from the character’s steely diatribe against society’s requirement of the female persuasion?” you asked, noticing a shadowy figure sneak in the back of the lecture hall and silently take a seat. Oooh, maybe it was someone from the administration, you’d better be on your best behavior. “I think it’s incredibly prescient, given its context in the "Golden Age", you formed quotation marks with your fingers “…and recognizing society’s grab for power, dominance and greed at all costs. Even to the exclusion of the personhood of the human” you debated, returning to your notes for the classroom agenda. “Let’s move on to the topic of social manipulation and professional ambition” you noted, referencing your power point presentation. You clicked on the graphic of the character Addison Dewitt,

“That I should want you at all, suddenly strikes me as the height of improbability. But that, in itself, is probably the reason. You're an improbable person, Eve, and so am I. We have that in common. Also, our contempt for humanity and inability to love, and be loved, insatiable ambition, and talent. We deserve each other”.

The figure in the back of the room shifted slightly in their seat with discomfort. You hoped you were making a good impression. “The character of Addison Dewitt is a literary metaphor for the dominating ambition that seems to drive, not only those in the performance industry, but in a capitalistic society at large” you tried to use as much flowery language as possible. This internship was a golden ticket of sorts, and you were anxious to demonstrate your academic prowess. You referenced the next clip, eliciting a vocal response from your audience as Addison slapped Eve across the face;

“-We are all busy little bees, full of stings, making honey day and night. Aren't we honey? -Sounds more like the mark of a true killer: sleep tight, rest easy, and come out fighting. -I’m sure you mean something by that, Addison, but I don't know what. -I am nobody's fool, least of all yours. -It’s important right now that we talk, killer to killer. -Champion to champion. -After tonight, you will belong to me. -Belong to you - why, that sounds medieval, something out of an old melodrama! (slap) -Now, remember, as long as you live, never to laugh at me - at anything or anyone else, but never at me.”

The class tittered with tension and awkward laughter. “The relationship between Addison and Eve is hardly romantic, but more so qualifies as a means to an end. How do you think that contrasts with the other relationships such as Karen and Lloyd; Margo and Bill?” Shifting to the next power point slide, the character of Bill reprimanded Margo in a lover’s spat,

“-As it happens, there are particular aspects of my life to which I would like to maintain sole and exclusive rights and privileges. Like….you. -That might be my cue to take you in my arms and reassure you. But I'm not going to - I'm too mad. Darling, there are certain characteristics for which you are famous, on stage and off. I love you for some of them, in spite of others. I haven't let those become too important. They're part of your equipment for getting along in what is laughingly called our environment. You have to keep your teeth sharp - all right - but I will not have you sharpen them on me, or on Eve! -You know, there isn't a playwright in the world who could make me believe this would happen between two adult people. -Perhaps I’m not a good enough director to salvage our scene, but you must be a good enough actress. There never was, and there never will be another like you.”

The hum of the projector warmed the already infused summer air as you wiped your forehead delicately, hearing the silhouetted figure clear their voice loudly in the background. You noticed their hand raised and delightedly called on them. “Is there any hope for her at all?” the voice rang out from the back of the lecture hall, bouncing off the walls and around the interior of your heart. Javi! He made it! You wondered how his industry meeting had progressed before responding…

“Well the cinematic ending is rather ambiguous, but I think Margo Channing has a vibrant life ahead of her! Finding romantic fulfillment with Bill Simpson and recognizing her individualized self-worth is probably the best revenge one could get…”

“I mean….Eve. Is there any hope for Eve?” Javi’s voice cracked as the class began to turn in their seats to locate the hidden voice in the background. You paused, somewhat concerned if Javi were okay, there seemed to be a note of tension in his voice. Perhaps he needed some encouragement after his Skype discussion.

“Oh! That much is up for interpretation. Addison does encourage Eve to place her accolades and awards where a heart should be. But the enigma continues as we see her potential protege, already usurping Eve’s meteoric rise to fame. Ladies and gentleman allow me to introduce my friend and colleague Javi Gutierrez. An aspiring screenwriter, cinematic aficionado and close friends with international superstar, Nick Cage!” you really laid it on thick, but wanted to support Javi however you could. The class immediately burst into applause as you finished the lecture. “In closing, let’s continue to analyze the ramifications of this cinematic classic. The way that it questions industry ambition, greed, power and the double standard brought about by professional misogyny. I haven’t even touched on the queer subtext, sophisticated campy dialogue or dramedy hybrid, but that will be another discussion for another time. Don’t forget to start watching our list of classic and contemporary cinema covered in the syllabus such as “East of Eden”, “Psycho”, “Fanny and Alexander”, “Deer Hunter” and more. I’ll see you next week, excellent work! Class dismissed!” There was a smattering of applause as the students excitedly talked and exited the classroom straining to get a better view of your enigmatic guest, as he walked down the stairs to the front of the room. You gathered your books and notes, the projector humming vibrationally next to you and casting dramatic beams of light around the room theatrically.

“You are a vision!” Javi exclaimed, kissing you across both cheeks and beaming with pride. But his eyes seemed to be shining with more than just satisfaction, as you caught a sheen of emotion dotting his countenance and a deep furrow to his brow.

“Aw, thanks Javi, it means the world that you made it today, I can’t tell you…” you ventured, squeezing his forearm with approval. “How’d everything go with the meeting? Was Nick pleased with your progress?” Javi’s face immediately fell with defeat, as he turned his back to you with a small whimper.

“Let us focus on your victory of the day, rather than my own…” his voice dramatically intoned, gathering up more of your books despite your protestations. “I am anxious to enjoy our dinner and movie selection of the night” and he immediately headed out the door amidst your confused looks.

What in the world was bothering him?

It had taken some coaxing, but on the walk back to your villa, Javi had slowly started to relax. You couldn’t be sure what was plaguing him, but after a steady stream of discussion and joking, he nearly seemed back to normal as you both entered the apartment laughing jovially. You were just about to suggest an evening movie when you caught Javi’s crestfallen expression as he fixed his eyes on his screenplay sitting on the kitchen counter.

“Alright, out with it!” you exclaimed, as Javi’s face crumpled with emotion, his lip quivering ever so slightly with concern.

“I cannot continue” he dramatically professed, histrionically dropping the books and flinging himself face first onto the living room couch with chagrin. You rolled your eyes good-naturedly, picking up the screen play and carefully sitting atop his lower back as he sniffled quietly.

“It seems to me this couch could use some more padding” you tried to tease, as Javi’s weight shifted beneath you with embarrassment.

“Would you taunt a man whose very existence is dissolving into a heap of despair and angst?” Javi’s voice mumbled into the pillows disdainfully. You pouted with concern, moving to the floor and running your hands lightly through his curly hair. European men could be so dramatic, but something was obviously bothering him.

“Is this about the meeting with Nick?” you offered, before Javi pushed himself up revealing his red-rimmed eyes and crimson hue’d nose.

“YES this is about my online meeting with international superstar and close personal friend Nicholas Cage!” he nearly cried before collapsing back onto the couch with despair.

You bit back a smile of skepticism before starting to rub large circles over Javi’s back and nodding in support. “He didn’t like it?” you whispered, dreading the response. Javi paused before mumbling into the pillow;

“He loved it”.

You stopped your ministrations, sitting back on your heels with disbelief. “Well of course he loved it! It’s absolutely amazing!” you giggled, looking at the prostrate man before you. “Wait, so…what’s the problem then?” you waited with anticipation watching Javi’s back rise and fall with a tense breath.

“I believe…” Javi’s voice wilted under the oppression before meeting your eyes with gravitas, “…I believe I have become….Eve Harrington”. He threw himself back onto the couch as you blinked dumbly before him.

“I’m sorry….what?” you tried to stifle a laugh, fingering the pages of the screenplay in your hands. Artists were so delightfully hyperbolic.

“It is not funny, Principessa!” Javi declared, sitting up abruptly and kicking your foot with seriousness. You nodded solemnly, hugging the screenplay to your chest tightly. “You must understand the sincere anguish that is permeating my very soul in this moment.”

You quietly considered his admission. “How absolutely horrible, you must get confused for Anne Baxter all the time” you deadpanned, waiting for Javi’s explanation. FINALLY, his veneer cracked, as he sheepishly collapsed back onto his side with petulance.

“It is possible I might be over-reacting” he acquiesced, poking the screenplay with one large forefinger. “Did you actually like it?” he whispered, his eyes a sea of innocence.

“I absolutely did” you confessed, leafing through the pages with delight. “It’s campy and genre-bending. A total tour-de-force for Nicholas Cage, and a wonderful commentary on the self-referential nature of Hollywood and artistry in general. It actually reminds me of "All About Eve" in some ways…” you admitted before Javi’s face screwed up with anxiety. “But not because you’re turning into Eve Harrington!”

Javi sighed with uneasiness, as you sat down next to him, attempting to heft his body to an upright position. “I’m doooooomed for all eternity! I have sullied the iridescent name of cinematic powerhouse and intimate artistic comrade, Nicholas Cage, with my flagrant attempt to displace his greatness! As though that were even possible….” Javi whimpered with a flourish, collapsing his heavy weight against you and tilting his head to your shoulder.

“Oh my. This is really quite serious” you nodded. “I had no idea you had such gargantuan screenwriting prowess. On the surface, you just seemed like a loving fan who idealized their theatrical hero. And now, as per your observations, I can clearly see how maniacal you have become. It’s just too bad Nick Cage is not capable of seeing through your facade” you teased, taking Javi’s large hand in yours and stroking it tenderly.

He sniffled thoughtfully at your remarks. “Nicholas Cage is the paragon of dramatic virtue” he observed huffily, drawing your interlaced hands up to his chest and heaving a hefty sigh. “Perhaps you are right, Principessa. But what of the playwright Mr. Richards? He intimates that artists should know their place and avoid self-aggrandizement at all costs!”

You screwed up your face in remembrance, trying to access the referenced cinematic moment. “Javi, he says something about actors taking artistic liberties with words that are not their own. If anything, that quote refers to Nick Cage, not you the playwright…” you argued, as Javi apparently stopped breathing momentarily. “Maybe you could listen to the words Nick is actually saying to you, because they seem to be nothing but supportive”.

Javi turned to face you with a new beam of enlightenment gracing his sparkling face. “I am not attempting to usurp and displace theatrical legend and creative genius, Nicholas Cage?” he whispered, nearly nose to nose with you now.

“I’m not sure you could, sweetie” you offered, gripping his hand tightly with encouragement.

“I have not turned into an attractive but maniacal masculine version of the literary character Eve Harrington and forever damaged our burgeoning professional and personal relationship?” he blinked skeptically, looking for any minuscule traces of hesitation in your micro-expressions.

“That would be quite the talent, but no, I’m fairly certain not”.

Javi’s face burst into a radiant smile as he collapsed back against the couch, finally satisfied, and breathing a sigh of relief. “And you really thought the screenplay was good?” he cast his eyes downward, avoiding your glance before you dipped your head lower still to catch his gaze.

“I really did. And so did Nick Cage” you smiled, kissing Javi lightly on the cheek as he blushed a deep crimson.

“Eccellente” he mouthed, stifling a small giggle of joy.

“Now, I wouldn’t mind another one of those gelato milkshake concoctions from last night. Are we watching another selection from my curriculum series? I haven’t even attempted “The Candyman”…or maybe “Poltergeist”?” you questioned.

“Principessa, I have had more than enough horrors for the evening!” Javi joked, kissing your hand with bravado before heading into the kitchen for ingredients. “Incidentally, I believe you agreed to watch one of my favorites at your earliest convenience….” his voice drifted in from the background.

“Javi, we already watching Paddington 2…” you whined, kicking off your heels and settling in for the night.

“A giant in the world of dramatic arts!” Javi bellowed from the kitchen before waxing philosophical. “But, of course, I am speaking of National Treasure 2, starring international film star and personal friend….”

You mouthed with his expected response, “Nicholas Cage”. Smiling quietly to yourself you listened to the melodic hum of Javi’s voice as you watched the children playing in the golden light of Italian dusk.

There are very few moments in life as good as this. Let's remember it. To each of us and all of us, never have we been more close, may we never be farther apart.

*roll credits

*@dornish-queen footage + Alfred Newman Soundtrack

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

My Darling Muse, My Darling Dieter...

*featuring AI art and Jackson Pollock background

Dieter is in LOVE. He's just not sure if he's met them yet. But in the interim, he's keeping a journal to house all of his inspiration, poetry and recipes, before they fly out of his head. And once he meets the ONE...or ONES...this is going to be his gift to you. Along with those sexy time IOU's he's always handing out. Love this post @for-a-longlongtime, and inspired by the Trope-Off (Dieter Bravo/Pen Pals)

Trigger: it's Dieter bub so this series will DEFINITELY include profanity, drugs, alcohol, sex, smut and any meanderings D wants...He's endlessly inspired by art, poetry, songs, sex and YOU!

*references Ginsburg's "Howl" + Rimbaud's "A Season In Hell"

My Darling Muse,

“I am with you…where you will split the heavens and resurrect your living human Jesus from the superhuman tomb…” “My guts are on fire. The power of the poison twists my arms and legs…I die of thirst, I suffocate, I cannot cry” “Who told you that there is no true, faithful, eternal love in this world! May the liar's vile tongue be cut out!” “I am with you…when you bang on the catatonic piano the soul is innocent and immortal. It should never die ungodly in an armed madhouse…"

*written in margins; Ten daily sponge baths unhealthy? What is a trash panda and are they bi? MDMA in Kit-Kats? Addicted to baby goats?

*Andre Masson

My Darling Dieter,

Oh my honey I am so glad to hear about all the friends you are making in rehab. and how much you enjoy your sponge baths! I'm not sure if Kit-Kats have addictive properties or not, but I'm certain they are healthier than your other alternatives. And yes, I was being serious when I said you could buy a baby goat for New Year's, J.

"Glass of Absinthe" by Van Gogh

My Darling Dieter,

I see your therapist suggested other outlets for your yearnings, thought I'm not sure absinthe is produced in gummy form. What a creative idea! Van Gogh would have thoroughly approved. Perhaps I can think of some personal ways to satiate your other desires--within the context of my nebulous professional role. Love, J

*Halman

My Darling Dieter,

I am so proud of you for returning to rehab during the holiday season. I know things were becoming stressful. I DID inquire as to whether the poet Coleridge has an IG account, but since he lived in the late 1700's that seems unlikely. Yes, I do think Kubla Khan could be set to an inspiring tap dance, but only by you. Sincerely, J.

*Warhol-Basquiat

Hey folks! This is J, Dieter’s PA. D is a little embarrassed since he checked himself back into rehab for the holidays, but he wanted his fans to know that he is doing well and enjoying the beach resort. He is still working on his one man show “Dieter Deconstructed” and is determined to include a musical portion. His good friend and fellow actor Pedro Pascal recommended the book “The Urge; Our History of Addiction”. D was excited, but the material is VERY heady. After falling asleep to the soothing sounds of the audiobook, I have taken to reading D excerpts over the phone…so he can fall asleep to my voice instead. D says he is very relieved to have escaped the holidays and the many temptations, while he focuses on his own betterment and the nebulous relationship between artistic passion and the sometimes uncontrollable desires of addiction. Finally, he wants me to remind you all about his upcoming holiday special, “Cliff Beast 6 1/2; Hannukah Hijinks”, which will be appearing on all major platforms.

*thanks @kodaswrld for the cool dividers

The Boopage Wars

*thanks @thecutestgrotto for the cool dividers!

A Rose By Any Other Name...

Sigh. I'm conflicted. I love my blog title, but over the last year I've run into a little resistance. Two anons have questioned the title and last year there was tremendous discord associated with this particular nickname. I think at least one amazing writer has blocked me because of it, and I don't want to be associated with anything even peripherally gross...But I'm also working on finding my own literary voice...as I write about somebody else...ummmmm....

Treasure Hunt for Missing Post

Pedge the Pirate and I are on a Halloween Treasure Hunt for a missing post. We remember seeing fics that were catalogued as a VHS Rental Library, including some very fun trailers. Does anyone know where this treasure is?

Also final day to "Trick or Treat"!

Moody Theater

I'm fairly certain our guy HATES the laugh/cry meme even though we love it. But have you ever watched this full production of "I, My Ruination"? It is absolutely gorgeous and Pedge really shines in his theatrical spotlight.

Act One Act Two

I think cinema is his first love, and we'll be able to enjoy him for years to come, but maybe someday he'll circle back around to us Broadway Babies...

*don't forget to clock the technical faux pas which we love almost as much

Pedge Tweets My Darling Muse

Hey folks! This is J, Dieter's PA :) He wanted to let you know that his sobriety is going well, but sometimes it's "a bit of a bummer". I told him, his current literary goal of researching "Crime and Punishment" might be contributing to that. He's trying to regain his artistic muse, but he needs to find new consistent ways of doing so! He's got his favorite tunes and Kit Kats, but has been moping around the house a bit. I decided to put together a quick TikTok to let his fans know he is bumbling along....

Series Masterlist

*edited with CapCut