Max's Mix Spotify

Pedro Scouts Glamping

A big thank you to @pedroscouts for this fun summer time activity! I ran into Pedge and he gently mentioned that my solo tent was a bit messy. He suggested some after care and a light massage because I was such a hot mess, so I've organized myself a bit more.

Ranks/Pledge I Pledge to Pedge Song Fic Use SomebodyPedge's Favorites Fan Art Papi Pascal Personal ArtJoel Miller @norththelemon Ellie and Joel @pebblume Din and Grogu @lupinsuniverse Game of Thrones Era @craftingwithamyc Esquire Magazine @saminadorazahi Beldro Ramscal Marcus Moreno We Can Be Heroes @firsttarotreader Cockwarming @flightlessangelwings Coffee Shop Coffee Shop Date @mermaidgirl30 Routine @endlessthxxghts Dieter Salt, Shot, Lime @freelancearsonist Enemies to Lovers Enjoy the Silence @strang3lov3 Whiskey Daniels How Much Does Devotion Weigh? @anabdaniels Ezra How to Write for Ezra @morallyinept Helianthus Fan Art @millersblud Sex Pollen Scarlet Haze @katiexpunk Only One Bed Killing Me Softly Series @alltheirdamn Frankie Morales Do You Feel It Too? @burntheedges Fluff + Smut Is Joel Okay? @djarinmuse Hurt/Comfort I Know Who You Are Series @punkshortChronicSweet DreamsNothing Hits Quite Like That First Kiss @backtothefanfictionYou're My Stranger In the Dark @lady-of-glass-and-bone Slow Burn Pike's Place Joel Miller Somewhere to Run @punkshortJust Ralphy @ameerawrites

Now, if you'll excuse me, it's very important that I continue earning badges. Pedge assures me that the reward of personal hard work is quite fulfilling and I'm not just talking about scout cookies. Happy summer activities!

My Darling Muse,

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!

My Darling Muse (ii) My Darling Muse (iii) My Darling Muse (iv) My Darling Muse (v) My Darling Muse (vi) My Darling Muse + Pedge's Jukebox My Darling Muse (vii) My Darling Muse, My Darling Dieter My Darling Muse, My Darling Dieter (ii) My Darling Muse, My Darling Dieter (iii) Dieter's Art Studio; Where is D?

*Goya's "Saturn", *thanks @thecutestgrotto for the cool dividers

My Darling Muse,

The night awakens my deepest darkest desires I claw at my own skin, desperate to be released Into your embrace, into your cavernous heart You devour me, I devour you. We ravage each other in the stillness of the night Howling, yawping, digging into the recesses of our passion Chewing me up, Spitting me out I unravel at your touch, disintegrate in your kiss. I sink my teeth into your supple flesh Drinking in your life, your blood The carnality of our existence My eyes are wide with terror in vulnerability I hold you in my dangling grasp as you hold me Headless, thoughtless, armless, shoeless Less and less, and more and more I die to to you, to myself, and am reborn in your arms.

(scribbled in margins: New tattoo? Metaphor for drinking pussy? Am I a cannibal? How much semen would you have to drink, if you were stranded on a desert island? Out of red paint. Was Goya bi? Okay to eat acrylic paint? New sexy position hurting back...)

The One With Thanksgiving

Wow. We made it y'all. We have survived the Thanksgiving. Barely. Sometimes the holidays feel like an obstacle course of delights and disasters and Pedge and I had a few. We're conflicted about the holiday, politics, health issues, YOLO pressure, parentals. It was a cornucopia...a feast if you will, in more ways than one.

Also, Pedge you have been FEEDING us lately. I can barely keep up! One minute I see you coifed and collected in interviews and premiers, the next you're baring your soul and your soft little tummy for our ogling eyes and I just gotta say...."thank you". Ooops, I think I embarrassed him, he's burying his head into his blanket and demanding chocolate chip cookies. I almost feel lucky "The Uninvited" is stuck in transit, I'm not sure how much more I can take!

Also, his arms are apparently always falling off, so we need to take very tender care of our guy, as only Tumblr knows how. I know you can put your literary imagination to the task.

I'm headed back to the doctors this week with chronic health stuff. Pedge says he has anxiety sometimes, so he'll go with me. And I gave my parentals the heads up that I wanted to discuss some difficult topics this Thanksgiving, so we had a side of sobbing with our punkin' pie. Par on course for a complex holiday which exceeded expectation on all counts!

I'm trying to pace myself, but Pedge and I get excited! We've got EIGHT Advent Calendars this year! EIGHT. I said it was too many, but Pedge is a naughty boy and convinced me otherwise :) He's always right. I've almost finished my gratitude journal and we were stoked for a Gift Exchange, Sunday Party and Parental Festivities...

But things started to go sideways. I fumbled some of the parental discussion, my body had other plans, and the doctor's appointment has been hard to schedule.

Love Means Never Having to Say...Anything (w/ Pedro Pascal)

I'm making progress, but my body ground to a standstill. Needless to say, this morning involved a bunch of cancellations, foam rollers, vitamins, medicine, copious crying and a bubble bath...

Honey, I think it's okay if we don't always look like we're going to a movie premier. Our friends will understand, and we can get some better medicine. And maybe we can even have chocolate chip cookies later! Oh good, Pedge is snuggling in for a little nap! Okay, just some final thoughts before cuddle time...

However your holidays are progressing, Pedge and I just want you to know that we see you. If you spent some time alone, or avoided some toxicity-- you still get to celebrate YOU! If you have all the privilege in the world but experience survivor's guilt or feel unappreciative, WE GET IT. You don't have to be anything other than your amazing self, seeking out the best version of YOU.

Whatever challenges you are experiencing, Pedge and I are right there with you, and that's something we can all be grateful for. Alright, Pedge and I are going to go back to making love to our foam roller, and considering a small piece of pumpkin pie leftover from Thursday...

Pedge would like me to remind us all to be good to yourself and be good to others. AND the medicinal value of chocolate chip cookies. Yes, Pedge, I'm typing it right now, scoot over! You're hogging all the pillows. Many gratitudes to the Tumblr peeps for the plentiful smut and silly memes. It does a body good :) And Happy Thanksgiving!

What Happened to Belen? Part One

Grab a Latte! thanks @timelordfreya for this fun game to "Read Your Color". Enjoy a treat before heading into the Bookshop...

Triggers: profanity, pornography, smoking, attempts at Spanish, contemporary canon for "Narcos" character, Catholicism, discussions of the book "What Happened to Belen" which involve topics of abortion, miscarriage, homicide, women's rights, medical malpractice, judicial injustice, menstruation, harassment etc...

Series Masterlist

Words: 5k

This workday was taking forever.

You looked up at the clock for the umpteenth time on this lazy Wednesday. After several hours, the second hand had moved…5 minutes forward. You rolled your eyes with irritation. It didn’t help that you were on your period. You shifted behind the counter awkwardly, the summer heat already starting to drag across your perspiring skin. If it was already this hot at 11am, you could only imagine what the rest of today would hold. At least you had a good book to keep you company. Taking another perfunctory glance around the bookstore, you floated somewhere between annoyance and gratitude, thankful that more customers weren’t gracing your local Barnes and Nobles. You couldn’t complain. The pay was decent, and you had wanted to be close to your first love; books. Here you were, getting paid to read, drink coffee and mind the bookstore, even on this deplorably hot Wednesday….

The front bell rang abruptly as a customer entered the bookshop, just out of your peripheral sight. Shit. You chastised yourself for your bristling attitude. Were you here to work or not? You smiled with self-deprecation, setting down the book of the hour “What Happened to Belen”, by Ana Elea Correa. You were just PMSing, and already anxious to get back to your re-read of the thought provoking piece about the Women’s Rights Movement. Tucking the book behind the counter, you tightened the strings on your Barnes and Nobles apron and sauntered towards the front with curiosity. 

The newfound customer had already disappeared in the annals of the bookshop, so you took a precursory lap around the store, looking for dust mites and books out of place when you spotted the bright pink, silky top stretched across the broadest shoulders you had ever seen. He had his back to you, a pert ass nearly screaming to be pinched, a thin line of perspiration dotting through the flimsy fabric in a straight line down his spine. Hello hormones. Sometimes you really hated being a girl. You noticed the wallet sized protrusion in his back pocket, wondering if his front seam demonstrated a similar bulge. Not wanting to add the description of “lasciviously horny” to your resume, you cleared your throat tentatively to indicate your presence. The statuesque stranger remained undeterred, much like his jeans which were fitted tightly to his tall and lanky stature. Jerk. You neared his stoic posture, raising your eyebrows in judgement at the Playboy Magazine that was held delicately between his fingers. Good hands. Jesus. Get a grip, woman. You noticed a small twitch in his Burt Lancaster like mustache, as he shifted his weight with irritation.

“Can I help you with something, sir?” the sarcasm seemed to drip off of your tongue unintentionally, as you caught a wry smile flash across his countenance before returning to an icy cold demeanor.  The stranger grunted in acknowledgment, without removing his fixed stare from the centerfold, his tongue darting out surreptitiously, tinged with lust.

“We have a new section that favors Pulitzer Prize winners” your tone had all the syrup of a honeyed practice, but you were inwardly shocked at your bravado. What the hell were you doing? You didn’t know this guy from Adam, and here you were alone in a bookstore, baiting a complete stranger? The already stolid man seemed to momentarily freeze before casting a sideways glance in your direction as his pupils widened and re-focused. He turned his body towards yours, almost defiantly.

“What do you think, hermosa?” he seemed to taunt, turning the pages of the Playboy towards you as a buxom blonde nearly slapped you across the face with her breasts. “Do you think she reads Nobel Laureates?”. Your face reddened with embarrassment, though stubbornly refusing to back down. 

“Maybe…” you whispered, his face softening ever so slightly in response. The shift was incremental, but noted nonetheless. “You can’t always judge a book by its cover”, the words fell out of your mouth sloppily, but with sincerity nonetheless. He stood up slightly taller, considering your words and looking at the magazine centerfold once again. “Too true, hermosa, too true” he seemed to acquiesce. closing the magazine definitively and looking at you with a new appraisal. “What are YOU reading?” he pointedly asked, allowing his eyes to meander over the totality of your body, as though still looking at the magazine contents. You shifted with an annoying arousal that you couldn’t quite shake, noticing the buttons of his shirt dangling precariously open revealing a sun-kissed, tanned torso. Stupid PMS.

“Uh…” your brain stalled like a sputtering car as he smiled sweetly at your unravelling manner.

“Pena” he held his hand out, wiping it deftly across the backside of his jeans and extending it forwards into your halting grasp. “Javier Pena” he matter-a-factly stated, his Adam’s apple bobbing strongly in his throat as a small trickle of sweat cascaded down his sternum. Holy hell. It must be hotter in here than you realized.

“Oh you wouldn’t like me” your eyes widened with horror as he ticked his head to the side curiously. “The BOOK, you wouldn’t like the book…” you rallied, stepping back and nearly falling over, but for his steely grasp that was not releasing.

“Easy now” he teased, reaching into his back pocket and soon displaying a shiny metallic badge with the large letters of DEA printed across the front. “Your secret is safe with me” he lowly intoned, dangerously winking in your direction as you felt a new bout of crimson feather across your face. Idiot. Idiot. Idiot.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt your…reading…uh, officer?” you blurted out, apparently unable to string two sentences together with a flashlight as he kept shaking your hand slowly and maintaining eye contact.

“S’okay” he offered, gently releasing your hand and placing his on his hips mischievously. Who was this guy? “M’not on patrol or anything, just looking for a good read and a quick lunch. What’dya recommend, hermosa?” his tongue dragged across his lips seductively as he looked you up and down once again. 

Were you hallucinating? Geez, hormones were a drag. “Uhhhh…” your mind seemed to short circuit once again, as though on auto-pilot. “What Happened to Belen?” your voice floated out of your body and hovered above you both tentatively.

“I don’t know, what DID happen to Belen?” he quirked, one eyebrow skyrocketing upwards. “Is this a joke I should know?” he scoffed, straightening the magazine on the rack as you nearly scurried back to the front counter.

“Oh it’s just a book I’m reading about Women’s Rights!” you called over your shoulder, desperate to regain some composure, and hastening back to your isolated perch by the cash register. Safe. His intimidating stature came tentatively lumbering around the corner, as though placating a frightened animal. “I like women” he smiled drolly, nodding at the book in your hands as you looked around the shop haphazardly. I mean, he seemed to be an officer of the law. Other than your own adolescent insecurities, what were you so jittery about?

“I recognize the name from the news, but I don’t know much about this woman, Belen. What was she, some sort of freedom fighter?” he questioned, leaning broadly against the counter and sinking his weight against it. You somehow felt protected and caged in, whilst not entirely disgruntled about it.

“Maybe an accidental one?” you observed, leafing through your copy thoughtfully. “She found herself at the epicenter of the Argentinian discussion of abortion rights, after she was unjustly jailed following a miscarriage. Huh. Miscarriage of justice indeed” you muttered under your breath, watching Pena’s eyebrows furrow in consternation.

“Bullshit” he muttered, his eyes squinting into skeptical lines of incredulity.

Your breath hitched in your throat hesitantly. It sounded nearly implausible on the surface, as you back-pedaled quickly, “Well, like I said, it’s probably not for everyone, and we have some other books along the same themes. There’s ‘A Room of One’s Own’ by Virginia Woolf. Or even ‘Good Night Stories for Rebel Girls’” you started to slide the book behind the counter before Pena’s heavy hand layered on top of yours cautiously, locking eyes with you fixedly.

“More” he stated bluntly, holding your gaze determinedly with his. “Tell me more”.

You swallowed dryly re-opening the book hesitantly. “Well, it’s not surprising that you haven’t heard as much about her. She prefers to remain relatively anonymous, and most people don’t even know what she looks like. But the international ramifications of her story go far beyond Argentina. It triggered international discussions about poverty, women’s rights, abortion, misogyny and much more…” your voice trailed off insecurely, hoping that the DEA agent wasn’t harboring a chip on his shoulder. “There’s a documentary, too” you finished, humiliated at how small your voice had become. Geez, even feminism at the local Barnes and Nobles wasn’t easy. Pena seemed to sense your hesitancy, drawing back from the counter tentatively and looking off into the distance.

“The system is fucked up” he mumbled, kicking the base of the wooden counter and planting his hands once again on his hips defiantly. “Don’t have to tell me, hermosa. I battle the powers that be every damn day of my life. Money, drugs, death. It’s all a fucking nightmare” his words hung in the air heavily, like the humidity that threatened to oppress everything around it. He nodded curtly, drawing a nearby stool up to the counter and planting himself in front of it like a hungry schoolboy. “So, what actually happened to her?”. A momentary image of an interrogation room flitted across your mind, as you wondered how it would be to have this man opposite you in more threatening circumstances. But his demeanor seemed genuine, and you were starting to gain a little confidence in your presentation.

“Okay, well first she has a bout of peritonitis that requires surgery and causes physical complications leading to a dangerous episode of cramping and fatigue. So she goes to the nearby hospital for help, taking her mom with her for support.” You referenced the book in your hands,

“As in many other parts of the world, there are two kinds of hospitals. The clean ones with plenty of doctors and nurses to attend to patients, a clear view through the windows, labs, X-ray machines, ultrasound devices, gauze and emotional support. And then there are the other hospitals where people like Belen go. Two police officers handle her admission’”.

“That seems sketchy as fuck. Why are there police officers at a hospital?” Pena inquires, his stance still wide and foreboding, his arms stretching easily across the counter with control.

“That isn’t even the worst of it” you shake your head uncomprehendingly. “Here, let me read it to you….

‘When Belen finally comes to from the anesthesia she is surrounded by police officers. One of the men in uniform looks at her vagina. They ask where the fetus is. She is still adjusting to the news that she’d been pregnant and not known it, as well as to the news that she had miscarried, so she says nothing. Then a male nurse walks up to her with a small cardboard box. inside is something small and black. He shows it to her and says; “This is your son. Look what you did, bitch.” Belen cries and shouts that she didn’t do anything, so she doesn’t know what they’re talking about. They give her water to calm her down. It is day now and she is kept in the hospital under police custody. When she looks at the officer, she wishes she were dead’”.

Pena’s mouth falls open in disbelief, “The fuck…” he whispers, his eyes growing into a steely sheet of iron, grabbing the book out of your hands abruptly. Yeah, you definitely wouldn’t want to find this man behind the barrel of a gun. You pursed your lips thoughtfully as he rifled through the book, almost searching for redemptive clarity. Maybe you had judged him too harshly as per his proclivities. It seemed like he actually cared. You delicately retrieved the book from his open grasp. “Well, she’s safe now, right? They acquitted her, or issued a formal apology or something?” he asked, tightening his hands into two balls of fury pressed firmly against the wooden counter.

“I’m afraid it wasn’t quite that simple” you lamented. “They take her to prison for an interim period that lasts nearly three years” Pena’s lips tightened to a taut line of reproach. “And she has a string of deplorable lawyers before finally meeting Soledad” you brightened slightly with the first piece of good news in the narrative.

“Wait a damn minute, how can the court imprison someone for having a miscarriage? What about an abortion? I mean, THAT’S still legal, right?” his voice was tinged with incredulity, as you remained grateful that you were the only ones in attendance for your unexpected Ted Talk. This was going to be hard to explain, because it made little to no sense.

“Argentinian abortion laws only came into fruition four years ago, and the discussion of Belen’s story was a HUGE part of that. Prior to that time, most abortions were considered illegal. Even her lawyer Soledad talks about her personal experience, ‘I had an illegal abortion. The whole thing took me by surprise. This can happen to any woman. I went to the kind of place where no one on earth would feel safe. You can imagine what it was like. Suddenly, I was experiencing illegality and its many consequences. The moment when you feel you’ve lost your autonomy, then  all your rights, all of them, are suspended. I’ve never talked about it, you know? But my kids are all grown up now. That experience was a huge motivator. Why are women put through that? If it was awful for me, then what must it be like for women who don’t have the resources? Something inside me woke up. I might never get any rest, but I would do something for women’s rights. No one deserves to be treated that way’”.

You set the book down as Pena closed his eyes, attempting to quiet his breathing. He reached a hand behind his head drawing it across the back of his neck tensely and eventually dragging it down the front of his face. “Ay, Dios mio…I thought it was bad in Columbia”.

You paused quietly before offering, “It’s actually worse in Columbia”. Pena seemed to stop breathing momentarily as you continued. “I think Columbia only ratified their rulings in 2022, but don’t quote me on that”. The color drained from Pena’s face with embarrassment. He cleared his throat haltingly.

“LosientoDiostengapiedad” the words flew across his tongue fluidly as he rolled his eyes with chagrin. “I don’t….” he cleared his throat again for good measure, “I don’t generally associate with women who are in a…family way. Or want to be” his face contorted self-deprecatingly. “Maybe I just…didn’t ask….” his face gained a dull, graying quality. He looked like he was going to be sick.

You smirked knowingly. Okay, Playboy. Maybe you COULD teach this hot pendejo a thing or two. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a cigarette packet before offering you one.

“Oh, I’m sorry you can’t smoke in here…” you apologized, watching his eyes widen to saucer like imploring orbs of incredulity. Licking his lips dryly and eventually tucking the cigarette deftly behind his ear he gestured. “Dame mas…” he rasped, lowering his eyes to the ground and swallowing thickly.

“I know, it’s hard to believe such a thing actually occurred, but let me try to synopsize….

When Belen arrived at the hospital she was already mid-miscarriage. She went to the bathroom, and amidst pain meds and confusion, unbeknownst to her, expelled the fetus. Belen wakes up in the communal labor room surrounded by police and with forensic pathologists examining her vagina, and learns she was 15 weeks pregnant. She had two lawyers neither of which visited her, and was eventually held in reprimand for first degree murder. No one raised the issue of doctor-patient confidentiality. Her new lawyer does not have access to her legal docket before asking for a mistrial amidst Belen’s protestations to remain anonymous”.

“But people should know!” Pena nearly yelled full voice, gripping his knees placatingly and looking into your eyes. “I didn’t join law force to fuck around!” his cheeks reddened immediately under your scrutinizing gaze. “Well….not JUST to fuck around…” he whimpered, throwing his hands up in the air.

“Listening to her experience, it’s easy to see why she was reticent about sharing her personal story. It was nearly three years before she finally received the acknowledgement she deserved, and it wasn’t for lack of trying. She spoke with multiple people proclaiming her innocence. Look, the author recounts,

‘The following day she tries her best to get some sleep. She asks for a sleeping pill and prays it’s all a nightmare. When she wakes up, a priest is staring at her with a frighteningly serious expression and a Bible in his hand. What you’ve done is incredibly serious. God’s law cannot be broken. You murdered your son. God will punish you. You must repent” she recalls him saying. Belen tells him she didn’t do it, she’s innocent. For days, weeks, months, she will say the same thing. The priest is asked to vacate the room; the patient is under medical orders to rest. It’s a lie. The hospital no longer cares what happens to Belen. They just want her to leave as soon as possible. The priest continues his rounds”.

“Bastardo” Pena mutters before reacting to your intake of air. “Sorry” his hands drifted upwards as though cornered by his own law enforcement officers. “Would you believe—lapsing Catholic?” his impish smile disarmed you must faster than you anticipated, as you chuckled under your breath. Shifting your footing you winced slightly as a pang of cramps ricocheted through your body, nearly doubling over. “Are you okay, hermosa?” Pena stood to his feet, touching your elbow slightly with concern. Your skin crackled under his heated touch, as you locked eyes.

“Oh…yeah…I just…been on my feet, all day, probably have a headache or something” you deflected, though you thought you caught a knowing purse of his lips in acknowledgement. You must be imagining things again. Pena checked his watch. 

“It’s nearly noon, I’ve been commandeering all your time” he lamented, looking around the bookstore appraisingly. “Can you…take your lunch?” he shrugged mischievously, gesturing to the small counter behind him that doubled as a refreshment bar. You sighed with relief, recognizing the prudence of his observations. God you could use a break. Your mouth curled with chagrin as you began to remove your apron. “Wait right here” you instructed, rolling your eyes with faux indignation. Can’t argue with the long arm of the law, you internally jested, flipping the “OPEN” sign in the doorway and motioning him to the counter. You grabbed two pre-packaged sandwiches as Pena reached over the counter for two bottles of Jarritos before tossing a ten before him.

“Keep the change” he smirked, pulling out a chair for you and joining for your impromptu picnic. You placed the book on the table and began to unwrap the sandwiches, rolling your eyes.

“My hero” you winked, as his face began to beam with unadulterated pride. “Alright Pena, fess up. How much did you know about Belen before meeting me today?” you questioned, taking a quick bite of your sandwich and humming in approval.

“Guilty as charged” Pena agreed, now twiddling the cigarette between his fingers, as though toying with his actual hunger. “I saw her name in the papers and always wondered. I mean, it was obvious there was a story that needed to be told. But what province was she sentenced in? What happened to her supporters? How did she go from a murder conviction to a final acquittal? Where is Belen?” the questions rattled off of Pena’s tongue as he watched you closely. You had definitely ensnared his attention.

“Are you interrogating me, Officer Pena?” you smiled between bites, happy to see his veneer crumple with tinged embarrassment. “I think it’s important to note that this isn’t just Belen’s story. You should check out the documentary. It shows a part of the story a lot of people are in denial about; the fact that illegal abortions primarily affect women who are poor. In the movie, Belen is in shadow and her face isn’t viable per her request. All we get is her voice, which takes the form of a desperate cry. Most of the women interviewed in the documentary which delves into the underworld of clandestine abortions, appear again at the end of the film when they say with a smile; let it be law. But Belen doesn’t. her silhouette in the dark, her voice, her pain, and her story are all she agreed to share. And it’s plenty. But the bright side of her is missing. She’s more than her experiences, more than that cry”.

Pena nodded solemnly, finally taking a bite of his sandwich and sighing heavily. It was a lot to take in and easy to feel a fraction of the helplessness Belen must have experienced during her incarcerated time. You opened the book and proceeded,

“It’s Belen’s first day at the Special Investigations Unit, and she would rather not talk to anyone. But another detainee approaches her and asks what she’s in for. Belen says she’s been charged with inducing an abortion. The woman bursts out laughing and says that can’t be right. “If it was, then I’d be facing life, I’ve had three” she reassures her. Belen wants to explain that she didn’t induce anything, but the woman insists that even if that were the case, no one gets sent to prison for an abortion. It’s odd, but after a while Belen starts to feel safer in prison than she did at the Special Investigations Unit. Then again, there’s the shame. She doesn’t want anyone asking her why she is there. She has no interest in talking about happened. All she wants is to go home and wake up from this nightmare”.

“I don’t blame her” Pena muttered, wiping his mouth broadly and taking a quick drink. “Law enforcement is supposed to prevent situations like this, not make them worse” he sneered. “I’m surprised they didn’t release her…”.

“Oh, they tried”.

Pena nearly spit out his next sip of soda, sputtering slightly in surprise. “What do you mean?”  he coughed, grabbing a nearby napkin.

“Apparently it was clear to most of the correctional facility that Belen was being treated unjustly. One day, the guards endeavored to just…let her accidentally escape. Here, I highlighted this part,

‘Belen is on the sidewalk outside the correctional facility. She is un-handcuffed and unsupervised. The prison guards watch her from inside the prison and wonder if they will ever see her again. They can always make something up. They’re not worried. But Belen leaves the trash bags on the corner and walks back. She asks the guard to open the gate, then asks to be let back into the prison. The guards laugh, "You weren’t up to it. You looked like a cat that can’t be bothered to go outside” “I’ll go out when they prove my innocence. You’ll see.” Belen replies. She goes back to her book—How long can people live without air? How long? What is the measure of suffocation? And falls asleep”.

“No shit” Pena whispered, nodding in solidarity. “Speaks to her innocence” he curtly states, downing the rest of his soda in one gulp.

You nodded in agreement. “She and her lawyer, Soledad, never lost faith, but it wasn’t always easy.  Corea recounts Belen’s words,

‘No matter what happened to me, I never lost strength. I kept telling myself; I will not fall, I will keep going, because what they’re doing to me is unjust. Except for one time. There was a single time in my life when I thought I’d never recover, that I was falling and wouldn’t be able to get back on my feet. It was when I left the courthouse and my mom stayed behind. I didn’t think I’d get through it. It was hard, but here I am”.

“But where is here?” Pena opened his palms reflexively. “How did she escape? How did she prove her innocence? There must have been clues…” he propositioned, leaning forward in his chair, crumbs scattering the table before him. 

“Oh get this!” you exclaimed, rifling through the book as quickly as possible. “A social media post that Soledad noticed, ‘She felt a mix of relief and anger when she saw the last thing Belen had posted, five days before her hospital visit; a picture of her looking happy; with no belly. No one had bothered to notice that small detail before convicting her”.

“Jesus” Pena had started answering with one word responses, such was the force of his disbelief.

You continued,

“The way most of the media addresses this problem has to change. Too often, victims are blamed for their fates; they clothes, their friends, how they have fun. Deep down, the press fans the idea that “They brought it on themselves” . We need a news media that is committed to creating new protocols while adhering existing protocols and codes of ethics when covering cases like these. Television reproduces words and images that put women in situations of danger, inequality and dominance. It reproduces stereotypes. When women and girls who fall victim to violence are covered by the media, their private lives are trespassed”.

“The media is total shit” he spat. “Can’t trust ‘em for a goddam thing, unless it’s ratting out a source”.

“Tell me what you really think, Pena” you quipped, finishing your own soda and leaning back in your chair before gripping your abdomen tightly. Squinting your eyes shut, Javier reached across the table grabbing your hand tightly.

“I think that’s a little more than a headache” he softly intoned, squeezing your hand and beginning to clean up. “Why don’t you finish your lunch break and I’ll grab a smoke. I don’t want to leave Belen hanging for too long…” he begrudged, heading for the door and turning the door sign right side up. What an interesting customer, you reckoned, scouring your purse for that long awaited Advil and heading to the backroom. You decided to put together a display featuring some of the other books mentioned like “Jacque a Le Reina”, “Open the Door” by Ana Guillot, and “Bad Mothers, Abortion and Infanticide” by Julieta Di Corleto”. Belen may have achieved her freedom at a high cost, but there were still many women suffering under the injustices of an obsolete governmental system. You exhaled a steady sigh of exhaustion, heaving a new stack of books to the foyer and catching sight of your new, fast friend. His broad posture was pacing back and forth concernedly, a myriad of smoke mystically curling about him. As though hearing your unspoken thoughts, he turned abruptly to catch your stare, dropping the cigarette and stamping it into submission, flinging the door open decisively.

“Hot as hell out there, hermosa” he huffed, coughing slightly and rushing to help you with the stack of books. “So perhaps you can now tell me, what DID happen to Belen?”…

Part Two...

NewYorkNewYork

Okay Broadway Babies, Tumblr may have finished this trend, but Pedge and I are going strong! If RPF is for you, check out my most personal work yet, and first series. It's a fantastical journey through my professional time in NY, and what better way to celebrate than with Pedge at our side!

Triggers: Set in 2014, it might progress to some lite smut, but this first episode only includes a slightly tipsy trip and mild profanity. NYC is rough enough--save the drama for your llama...

New York, New York Series Moody Thespian Pedge Tweets Masterlist Moody Theater J's Jams

Pedge's Bookshop The Storm

Grab a Latte! lounge around in the foyer with this sweet fic "Taste You" by @hellishjoel before heading into the Bookshop!

Triggers: profanity, Last of Us canon + references, this series will feature MAJOR spoilers for "Crime and Punishment", lite smut, ex-type character, spiritual concepts, injury

Series Masterlist

Words: 3.3k

You drew a tentative single finger down the perspiring glass of water before you. The town hall cavernously echo’d, as your leg tapped nervously under the elongated table before you. Tommy shuffled his papers awkwardly as Joel placed a firmly solid hand atop your thigh, squeezing gently as you attempted to take a deep breath. This had been YOUR idea. Maria swallowed dryly, pausing to look at a non-existent watch and then softly chuckling to herself in defeat. Everyone had assembled except the least desired member of the discussion; Levi.

Once again you questioned your motivations, but with the administrative transitions coming up  and the anticipation of Maria’s pregnancy, it was more important than ever to solidify the safety and maintenance of the commune’s existence. You just never counted on it including Levi. Initially you had reasoned that his temporary presence might be nothing more than an inconvenience; a temporary setback when your past haltingly caught up with you. You had spent more than a few sleepless nights, wondering if his appearance was the harbinger of disastrous revelations, and indeed, it had culminated in more than a few protestations. The worst had occurred; and The Miller Family at large was all too aware of your questionable background and salacious past. But if anything, it had seemingly solidified their undeserved respect and acceptance of your assured position in the community. Tommy was overjoyed to provide Maria with extended resources, and Maria was holding her skepticism of Joel at bay with her repulsion of Levi in comparison. Ellie had all but started a campaign for your continued administrative duties, and Joel. Joel was the most surprising of all.  The layers of armor and emotional barriers had finally started to dissipate, as your own vulnerabilities came to light.

Not so with Levi. 

His moral apathy hung like a weight around his neck, dragging him and his posse to the forefront of patrol responsibilities, as they begrudgingly ingratiated themselves into town life. It was only a matter of time before the uncomfortable social bomb detonated, and you were hopeful that casualties could be limited, so you had suggested this clunky and currently stalled discussion to get a better idea of Levi’s intentions. Joel shifted with discomfort in his seat, as he glanced sideways and offered a perfunctory smile. His only motivation for being here was YOU, and offering whatever support or encouragement he could. Levi had set his teeth on edge from day one, but since that tumultuous altercation at dinner, Joel had managed to stifle whatever aggressive tendencies bubbled just below the surface. You appreciated his stolid presence, but felt the tension shifting between Maria as well. There were so many things unsaid, and you weren’t sure if voicing them would bring any clarity or unification. You just knew that things could not stay they way that they were. Finally, the door swung open as Levi strode confidently and loudly into the echoing chamber, fresh from patrol. Grabbing a nearby chair, he grabbed the available glass of water and downed it in several quick swallows before wiping his hand sloppily across his mouth and heavily sighing.

“Hey Teach” he smirked, squaring off against Joel who sat across the table and staring into Maria’s eyes as though questioning the barrel of a loaded gun.

“Thanks for joining us, Levi. I trust you and your group didn’t encounter any unexpected difficulties on patrol this evening” Tommy began, attempting to assuage the growing tensions.

“How could I? You’ve got me on such a tight leash I’m starting to feel like the commune bitch” Levi joked, casting a teasing glance in your direction before Joel cleared his throat menacingly. Levi paused appraisingly. “Nothing to write home about…” he begrudgingly jested, leaning back in his chair as though settling in for an interrogation.

“Tommy and I wanted to get a better idea of your long term intentions for commune residency” Maria engaged, setting her papers before her as though back in a courtroom atmosphere. “Joel tells me your patrol participation has been…satisfactory”.

Levi drolly smiled, crossing his arms smugly behind his head. You vaguely imagined him tipping over backwards, he seemed so pleased with himself. “High praise indeed” Levi sarcastically observed, pursing his lips thoughtfully.

“Your arrival was…well-timed” the words curtly exited Joel’s mouth. “Figure the same will be true for your exit” he quipped, his jaw ticking angrily beneath. You took a deep stilling breath before attempting to join the conversation.

“I for one, am very grateful for Levi’s support” you chose your words carefully, feeling Joel bristle beside you. “Nothing is more important to me than the people of this commune, and if Levi has anything beneficial to add, I think we should put it to the test”. You surprised yourself with the assertion of your tone, but encouraged by Maria’s staunch reinforcement. Levi’s eyes deceptively narrowed at the directionality of your challenge, and he sat up as though answering  a dual.

“Don’t matter to me” Levi nearly spat, knocking the table slightly with his body weight and relishing the small jump it elicited from you. “World’s been endin’ for a long time now. I’m just scopin’ out the best place to land” he licked his chapped lips defiantly. Maria nodded definitively, though Joel was shaking his head in silence. You felt as though you were poised between a rock and a hard place. Desperately wanting to protect Joel and the commune, but currently at the mercy of your own desires and insecurities. 

Tommy broke the tension deftly, “Alright, it’s a deal. One week from now we have our next scheduled resource rendezvous. Joel, you and I can lead a patrol at dawn, and Levi and his group can watch the defensive flank. What’dya say Levi?” Tommy stood to punctuate the offer, holding out a circumstantially forced hand of agreement. Levi stood to mirror him, spitting into his hand and grasping Tommy’s firmly in his. Joel gripped the table forcefully, a ticking time bomb, waiting to explode at any moment. Levi smiled with awareness, enjoying the mounting tensions of the moment. He feigned a two finger salute, “Be seein’ ya!” before striding back out of the town hall, and slamming the door behind him. The room audibly breathed a sigh of relief upon his exit.

“Are we really doing this?” Joel muttered under his breath. Maria’s gaze held a steely resolution, as Tommy sat down defeatedly. 

“It’ll be okay” you encouraged, taking Joel’s hand fixedly in your own, under the table. Perhaps the ends could justify the means. You were loathe to articulate the unspoken truth, but you no longer had the luxury of painting reality in any other light. The truth might be a bitter pill to swallow, but in the face of insurmountable odds the only thing you really risked losing was yourself. You flashed on a Dostoyevsky quote that the devil might not exist, but man has thus created him in his own image and likeness. But if you could save the commune…if you could save Ellie…if you could save Joel…it was worth it. However, the weight of your discussion settled over the table with a heavy foreboding.

Had you just made a deal with the devil?

Joel’s whiskers teased the sensitive skin of your neckline as you bumped precariously against one of the bookshelves. “You know, if it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t have to keep revisiting the Arts and Recreation section…” you breathed, eyelids heavy with longing, as you temporarily paused his ministrations.

“Feels pretty recreational to me…” Joel teased, grabbing the lush shape of your backside, and caging you against the oaken wood.  The corners of you mouth hiked upward as you drew your hands lazily up and around his neck.

“I AM sorry about this upcoming patrol” you apologized, halting Joel’s salacious attention and watching the incredulity flood his features.

“Just protocol” Joel chastised, touching his nose lightly to yours. “We need the supplies, and if Levi can help us get it, we’ll use him in the process” he wisely advised, tightening his grip. 

You smiled cautiously, “Please watch yourself around him, Joel”.

“Always do, ‘xcept when I’m watchin’ you…” he joked, pulling you in for another kiss. You were about to admonish him when Rascal the Cat signaled an approaching customer. The doorbell chimed distinctly as Joel rounded the corner, deftly tucking you behind the bookshelf clandestinely. “We’re closed…” he began, before subtly bristling at Maria’s appearance. “Oh…uh…Maria….Everything alright?” Joel’s hand stayed behind the bookshelf, motioning for you to stay quiet.

“Sorry to bother you Joel, I had some commune business I wanted to run by you without a bunch of watchful eyes” Maria judiciously observed, clearing her throat authoritatively. You secretively held your breath, stilling your pounding heart. Should you announce yourself? You still felt a little unsure of your new administrative position, and Joel seemed content to keep your presence known only to himself. Perhaps you could do more good from the shadows…

“I hate to ask it, but…I’ve been talking to Ellie” Maria began, looking apprehensively around the room, as though expecting her to show up at any moment.

“Now wait just a goddam minute…” Joel retorted, leaving you behind in the back of the bookshop and moving towards Maria purposefully. 

“She just wants to join patrols, Joel. She’s old enough, and capable as hell, and you know it” Maria countered, shifting her weight awkwardly. She was getting closer and closer to a due date, and the pressure of that responsibility might be motivating her decisions unexpectedly.

“Don’t make it right” Joel stated matter a factly, nodding his head succinctly. You were already hesitant about Joel’s patrol participation, and weren’t keen to add Ellie to the mix. The last thing you needed was Levi influencing them both.

“I know you’re protective of her, but she watches you like a hawk. She only wants what’s best…” Maria chimed in as Joel folded his arms skeptically across his chest.

“Can’t do it” he argued. “S’not time yet”.

Maria sighed with defeat, placing her hands on her hips with a slight defiance. “Well,…you’re gonna have to explain that to her yourself, because she won’t leave me alone otherwise”. Joel nodded knowingly, anxious to drop the matter as quickly as possible. 

“’S’good training for your little one, whenever they arrive” Joel offered, widening his eyes sympathetically. He might complain about the responsibilities of faux parenthood, but it was apparent in all of his actions and words that Ellie was his pride and joy. He wasn’t easily going to let her out of his sight. You smiled affectionately.

“Ellie’s a lucky kid” Maria downshifted, heading away from the Bookshop Counter and within your diagonal sightline, though you were still relatively hidden behind the bookshelves. “I can see why she’s so special…” Maria seemingly taunted, fingering the nearby psychology section and drawing her words out precisely.

“What’dya mean by that?” Joel interrogated, a slight bite nearing the edges of his tone subtly. “What’d Tommy say?”.

“Oh nothing…” Maria toyed again, pulling out a copy of Sigmund Freud’s “The Interpretation of Dreams” and placing it back on the bookshelf in one motion. “Just seems like I can’t get a straight answer around here. From Levi, Ellie…YOU” Maria’s voice sounded neutral and passive, but there was an air of interrogation in it. Maria was a leader through and through, and if she seized upon something that raised a red flag, she reminded you of a dog with a bone. She wasn’t easily going to let this go.

You peeked from behind the bookshelf quizzically, watching Joel’s neck tick with discomfort. “Are you accusin’ me of somethin’?” Joel growled, his hands perched confidently on his hips. Maria turned quickly, with a judicious appraisal, bringing her hand to her stomach protectively. 

“You’re family Joel” she soothed, watching his shoulders relax infinitesimally, but still recognizing his guarded stance. “Tommy won’t ever betray the brotherhood” she smiled, rubbing a small concentric circle around her abdomen. “I just want you to know that…whatever you’re hiding, can’t be good for Ellie. It can’t be good for you or anyone else that loves you…” you shrank quickly behind the bookshelf, wondering if Maria somehow telepathically sensed your presence.

“The past should stay in the past” Joel lowly intoned, so quietly you weren’t sure if you heard him correctly.

“Maybe…until it drags itself into the light” Maria responded, stepping closer as Joel inched back. “You don’t have to suffer alone, Joel. Rid yourself of whatever you’re holding back. I know Ellie will thank you for it…”. You heard the stifled intake of air, as Joel responded to Maria’s firm grasp of his forearm. Rascal the Cat bumped up against your calve as you tried to shoo him away. Maria nodded curtly before departing out the door, a cascade of wintry air barreling inside juxtaposed by the no longer friendly chime of the bell. You picked up Rascal and slowly approached Joel who remained locked in introspection. Placing a soft hand on his shoulder, he still jumped at your light touch as Rascal scampered down onto the floor, heading to the foyer armchair.

“She’s right you know…” you murmured, tucking yourself into his side as he drew a tentative arm around your waist. “You’re not alone in all this” you encouraged, watching Rascal blink lazily atop the cozy quilt.

“S’not my secret to tell…” Joel rasped, his brows furrowed in concentration. “But…the time’s comin’. Comin’ for a reckoning…” he cautioned, swaying lightly with you enclosed in his grasp. You darkly pondered his meaning, looking forlornly around the nearly completed bookshop. 

“Gonna have to start letting people in soon” you remarked, smiling at Rascal and pointing to the perpetually “closed” sign in the doorway.

“Soon” Joel nodded gazing down at your face affectionately and pressing his lips lightly to yours. “Very soon…”

The rest of the week passed quickly, as you prepared for the upcoming patrol. You couldn’t calm the horrendous gnawing sensation that was eating away at you from within, but you knew that this was the next necessary step in finding solutions. You and Ellie commiserated more than a few times before the fateful day when Joel, Tommy, Levi and others would head back to Elk Creek to pick up the much needed monthly supplies. It was time to put this shaky union to the test. 

You were spending more and more time at the Millers, so it came as no surprise when Joel invited you to spend the night. His eyes twinkled mischievously when he confessed that he had already “talked to the kid”. While you giggled tremendously imagining the comedy of that situation, he had led you upstairs, inviting you into his bed. The night was filled with cuddling, laughter and kisses as you discussed your dreams for the future Bookshop. You were already excited to introduce your students to a new town library and Joel was already suggesting your next literary venture once “Crime and Punishment” was done. Currently it was the coziest Book Club for two, but there was a world where you could expand to officially include Ellie and other commune members who were interested.

While the ease of your rapport wasn’t surprising, Joel’s modesty was, blushing a bright red as you pushed your ass back against his hips. You felt him stiffen in more ways than one, as he chuckled shyly. “Can we wait a little darlin’?” his Southern drawl already had you melting under his touch as you turned your head to meet his gaze. “Wanna take my time with you, and if we…get together now, I’m not gonna last nearly as long as you deserve”.

You gulped with arousal, twisting your body to meet his and collapsing back into him. “Don’t need any more than this, Joel. But I hope I can motivate you to come back from patrol as soon as possible” you tantalized, grinding your hips against his as he inhaled quickly through his mouth.

“Don’t have to tell me twice” he teased, smashing his lips into yours for another passionate kiss. And so the night passed sweetly, encased in one other’s arms, housed in your den of solace. It wasn’t until the early morning hours that you awoke to Joel’s bristling beard at the nape of your neck signaling the start of the dreaded patrol. Entangled in one another’s embrace you tried to soak up every freckle, every wrinkle and every smile on Joel’s face, memorizing his visage as though wondering if you would ever see it again. Eventually you both begrudgingly lumbered down the stairs, meeting Ellie who had already prepared a hearty breakfast for Joel’s exit. You had expected the interaction to be more awkward, but Ellie was mostly focused on Joel’s safety…and arguing for her future participation when she was a bit older. You smiled tenderly at the easy conversation and teasing tonality. Please. Please. Let this be the start of my next story. Not the tragic ending of a narrative just begun. You caught yourself staring at Joel longingly, and trying to keep your thoughts focused on possibility, not tragedy.

And then he was gone. Grabbing his winter coat and supplies, you had all decided to keep the goodbyes short and unemotional. Joel would be back in three days. There was no purpose in histrionics or dramatics. Just another three days, and Joel would be back in your arms, and the commune would have more supplies and more resources for the long respite till Spring.

Three days.

Tapping your pencil nervously against the school desk you looked around at the cornucopia of students taking an impromptu test on agriculture and harvesting techniques. Ellie looked up tentatively to lock eyes with you. Three days.

You had a faint recognition of the Biblical telling of Jesus’ crucifixion and resurrection. Surely nothing else had felt nearly as interminable.

Two days.

Gone were the times of cell phones and emails. No news broadcast that allowed you to focus your attention on outlooks or predictions. Just Maria’s solemn face in the town meeting hall as you wordlessly nodded in her direction. The hours ticked by, as slow as molasses. You and Ellie had spent several hours, trying to wrangle the remaining refurbishment of The Bookshop before Joel’s return. Every evening, you had methodically read and re-read the confession of Rascalnikov and thought of Joel. Wondered where he was. Wondered at his safety. Wondered if he were thinking of you. The pages of your book started to fray and tatter slightly at the corners as you wore them down doggedly.

One day.

You were hesitantly happy for another day at school, desperately trying to focus on the current curriculum of World History and corresponding literature. You had already begun tantalizing the class with the promise of an upcoming field trip to the “soon to be opened” bookshop, with library options galore. You bit your lower lip in a mixture of anxiety and anticipation. Joel. Joel. Come back. Joel. You felt nearly crawling out of your skin. Where was Joel? Drawing your focus meticulously back to a description of the Civil War, it wasn’t until you heard the flurried footfalls of Ellie across the outer deck that your heart lurched with foreboding. Ellie flung the door open, pausing heatedly as the entire class craned their necks with curiosity.

“Come quick Teach, the patrol is back!” Ellie shouted, though your countenance immediately fell from enthusiasm to concern noticing the tear streaks lining her face.

“What happened?” you croaked, dropping the chalk to the ground quietly as the classroom collectively held its breath.

“Only ten men came back…there’s no Levi, and barely any supplies. Just come quick, Teach…it's Joel.

Joel is hurt.”

@morallyinept @littlemisspascal @wannabe-urs

@beefrobeefcal @sawymredfox 

@wordywarriorwrites @burntheedges @inept-the-magnificent @timelordfreya 

@schnarfer @devineconjuring @mermaidgirl30 @mandolover37 @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog 

@joelmillerisapunk @jennaispunk @sheepdogchick3 @marcus-is-my-muse @guiltyasdave 

@copperhalfcent @bluesweaters15 @drewharrisonwriter @darkheartgatita

@harriedandharassed @brittmb115 @confusedpuffin @zaniasky @quicax3

Pedge's Juke Box

I love combining reality with fantasy, and while I'm sure this isn't a new Tumblr concept, I'm going to be cataloguing our Pedro Boys as per Pedge's suggestions! All playlists will attempt to utilize music or groups that Pedro Pascal has referenced at some point. Get your headphones and enjoy! I also am secretly hoping writers might utilize this playlists for inspiration. I can't write with music in the background, but some people can...

Pena's Playlist Max's Mix Joel's Jives Maxwell's Music J's Jams Frankie's Favorites Dieter's Deets Silva's Songs Pike's Playlist The General's Genre Baby's Beats

*Please keep singing darling, we LOVE It....(our DJ)

🎶 Name Song Game 🎶

Thanks @wordywarriorwrites for the tag! Pedge and I have been inspired lately with Pedge's Jukebox, and I happen to be a professional musician! BUT most of my participation on Tumblr has been pretty one-sided and doesn't actually include my peripheral passions like musical theater! It's a bit niche, but here is my Username Song Game, J-style. And don't forget to check out my completed RPF "New York, New York Series" that fantastically celebrates my time there...

J's Jams (Spotify)

In case you haven't done it already: @timelordfreya, @inept-the-magnificent, @morallyinept, @sawymredfox, @purpleprincess75

Fink's Phrases

Thank you @auteurdelabre for our beautiful coloring book! I'm making slow progress on my health journey, but the holidays were the hardest. This movie was so nurturing, and empowering during this difficult season. I could listen to Papi Pascal all day :) Thanks for indulging my inner child...

Sometimes, to survive, you must become more than you were programmed to be. When you grow up without something you… end up spending a lot of time thinking about it. No one has the programming for motherhood. We just make it up. Funny how life works. Death’s proximity makes life burn a little brighter. If you forgot to say something before you left, they may have heard it anyway. Sometimes hearts have their own conversations. Eating the task is not the same as completing the task. Most of you hate me and I hate most of you. Everyone in here hates someone else. But here we are and here's the deal: the first one that walks out that door is dead and if we can't keep it together in here, everyone's dead. We all got one chance to see next spring, because of her. The 'thing', the 'monster'. And while you all ran from her and stole from her and made fun of her all she's been trying to do is raise her kid. She's the one who got you out of the storm, built this place, and despite my suggestion that she let you all freeze, she risked everything to bring you here. I'm a fox, I do foxy things. It's in my nature!