Latest Posts by pedges-world - Page 6

Pedro-Tober!

Awwww! Inspired by @alyssamariag and @norththelemon I've decided to feature curated pics/art, juxtaposed with fics and AI inspired Bitmoji. So much artistry to celebrate this October, we have our stylishly decorated hands full. Look at these amazing artists!

1: Official Movie Artwork by Reiner Meinerding 2. IG @amakuni_s 3. Nails by Christina Tran, Moody Met 4. Moody Silva 5. Esquire Bonus photographer Norman Jean Roy 6. My Darling Muse Pedro-Tober #2 Pedro-Tober #3 Pedro-Tober #4 Pedro-Tober #5

My Darling Muse (iii),

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...

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

Series Masterlist

Rothko's "Red On Maroon", thanks @thecutestgrotto for dividers!

My Darling Muse,

I am a gaping wound, Aligned with your iron fluidity Throbbing with the passion of blood Warming at your scalding touch Like lava, I flow unbidden, a verse of self unhindered and free Pulsing, ebbing, molten and boiling Pistoning forward in poisonous acid, I am the red monster Alight with desire, wings unfurled in splendor and terror I survey all and know little, a word unspoken A thought unuttered, a feeling unrequited, A husk of a shell unravelled, like trinkets in a wind chime My words bounce on a red dawn A red tide that bears stealthy fruition A soundless crimson wave of meaning, Into your chasm I plummet, into the red void I sojourn Feathered wings in pained approach Molt and melt like Icarus, I am the red death I am the maroon birth, I am love alight And rage unaltered (scribbled in margins: Was Rothko bi? Is blood a good paint substitute? What's it like to date a vampire? Can I list myself as a Google location? Online anger management...with goats.)

Hey folks! This is J, Dieter's PA. I'm not sure if he even knows who I am, but I also run his TikTok page so he can "commune with the proletariat". His fellow actor and good buddy Pedro Pascal recently recommended "Autobiography of Red" by Anne Carlson. And Dieter has similarly been obsessed with John Logan's production of "Red"....No Dieter, I won't mention you thought it was originally a musical about menstruation...

Moody SAG Awards

I gotta say, I'm usually pretty reserved, even via Tumblr, but this look had me outright barking. Whether swashbuckler, Mr. Darcy or Pirate Pedge, this aesthetic is my ABSOLUTE favorite. Coifed curls, tequila buzz and industry glow? Make this man happy EVERY day of his g@ddam life...

Moody Thespian

As a theater professional, some of my favorite interviews with Pedro Pascal are when he talks about early performance opportunities, theatrical inspiration and the craft. I'm sure you've heard them, but be sure to revisit:

Talk Art Screen Actors Guild Talk Easy Podcast

We could obviously listen to his voice all day, but it reminds me why I'm passionate about the arts in the first place, and how much inspiration is readily available...if you're looking for it.

My Darling Muse (ii),

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. As always, love this post @for-a-longlongtime, and inspired by the Trope-Off

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!

Series Masterlist

Goya's "Drowning Dog *thanks @anitalenia for the cool dividers

My Darling Muse,

Like a dog, I lap at your wounds Drinking you in, drowning in your juices Swallowing + swallowing me I am adrift at sea without you, turning in the tumult Pverwhelmed and isolated i have abandoned myself To worship at your dwelling I journey and journey in the labyrinth of your rose Clawing and grasping, biting at the hand that feeds How long have I been lost? To what supple kingdoms do I travel? Am I found anew in your arms? Re-birthed in this self-death I swim in a sea of salty tears, An ocean of my own making I lance together my bones, fashioning a mighty raft Until I drift into your treasured embrace Woof. (scribbled in the margins: What does LSD stand for? Out of Kit-Kats. Are dogs bi? NA mg in semen? Oil Paint-good for lubricant? Is cannabis an aphrodisiac?)

*Hey folks, this is J, Dieter's PA. I'm not sure if he actually knows who I am, but I try to replenish his Kit-Kats whenever I can. Dieter says his fellow actor Pedro Pascal is an art afficianado and loves all things Talk Art. Don't forget to check out his delightful insights...sorry...watch Dieter's movies FIRST. I got it Dieter, thank you...I don't know if they've seen "Cliff Beasts 6"...I'll ask...

Pedge, Painter, Poet...Writer?

I KNOW I'm not the first person to fantasize this supposition, but how many of us want PP on Tumblr anonymously? He's already a playwright, avid reader...fan. Who wants to bet he would have a ghost writer at some point, or venture into the literary landscape unannounced?

@for-a-longlongtime

Pedge's Bonfire

Pedro Scouts was my first Tumblr activity ever and it was a GREAT summer activity to participate in! Things have been winding down with Fall responsibilities, but Pedge and I needed to get away and garner a couple more badges! Ah, nature....All of my reblogs are found on my second account @pedrotease!

Endured the Storm: Blossom Beauty, Blossom A Very Special Episode of PB + J Fantasy: Good Girl @aurorawritestoescape Trope Off-Sex Pollen Din Djarin One Shot @auteurdelabre The Correspondence of the Contagious @crowandmousewritingco Touchstone @sawymredfox Road Trip: Are You Alright, Honey? @javigutierrez Knuckles Deep @ozarkthedog Knuckle Deep in the Backseat @cxrsed-angel Changed Username: I lurked on Tumblr for almost a full year before I started writing! I used to be @shadowcupcakewitch but she is no longer. Now we are all Pedge, all the time...

I'm also celebrating 100 reblogs with @burntheedges Roll-a-Trope Challenge reblog of "Pike's Place"! Thanks @inept-the-magnificent for the cool rec's and encouragements on this Slow Burn Winter Series, final installment on Christmas Day. Now, Pedge and I better get back to camping, we only have one sleeping bag, whatever will we do?

Moody Rockford

This marketing was so spot on for "Merge Mansion". I'd love to write for Tim Rockford someday, but in the interim, check out @inept-the-magnificent "Nebble Files" and @ghotifishreads "Tim Rockford Short". And hey. You don't have to take my word for it...

The Big Goodbye (NY, NY Series Finale)

This series was so healing for me. My writing is obviously self-indulgent, so please proceed at your own risk. I'm sad to bid these two farewell, BUT anytime I'm missing NY or need more Pedge in my life, I'm just gonna pop in for a short.

Triggers: RPF, profanity, Narcos audition, alcohol, friends with benefits, goodbyes, artistic rejection, smut...I wanted to explore intimacy and the ways we love on one another that are non-traditional (hope you enjoy as I did!)

Series Masterlist

The words were ringing in the air along with the heavy patter of hypnotic raindrops.

“It’s a no. I didn’t get it”.

Your mouth parted slightly in surprise. Juxtaposed by the surrealistic events of the day the echo of reality seemingly throbbed in your being, watching P’s chest rise and fall with a heavy melancholy.

He swallowed harshly, turning his back to you again and pocketing the cell phone. You suddenly felt the dripping weight of the rain, clinging to your clothes, squeaking in your shoes. The once fragrant heat of the greenhouse now mildewed in soiled oppression, anger starting to leak out of you. Motherfucking "Narcos". They can’t even see what is glaringly obvious in front of them. But you could. Pedge placed his hands on his hips, a ripple of anxiety cascading across his back and neck. You could almost feel the rising lump in his throat from where you stood. Trying to shrug off the familiar feeling of rejection. So many auditions. So much indecision. So much insecurity. This industry could be a fucking nightmare, but to have so many “maybes”. So many “almosts”. You could only go to brunch and coffees and wine tastings so many times before it caught up with you. How do people expect us to have a thick enough skin, surviving the many rejections, but also remaining transparently vulnerable enough to process the emotions of artistry and humanity? There’s always a breaking point, and you were looking at one small example of it, standing in front of you.

Your eyebrows creased in concern. Sigh. Now, what was your motivation? Some intimacy coach you were. Nurturing? Comic relief? Logic? Lots of ways to handle fragility, but what offers the best support? You bit your lower lip, still tasting the cinnamon flavors of his chapstick. All of your senses were heightened as you reached out for his shoulder tentatively.

“Pedge….”.

“S’okay” he muttered perfunctorily, swinging around a bit too quickly and plastering a mostly believable grin across his face. “It was a long shot anyways” he tilted his head with joviality, coaxing a wry smile. “Win some, you lose some” he voice cracked a little at the end as he shifted with discomfort, looking down at his shoes. “See! Even Mother Nature is pissed on my behalf!” he shouted, arms outstretched, trying to lighten the moment.

You chuckled, mostly for his benefit, feeling the sting of your own insecurities and rejections coming to the surface. “Idiots!” you yelled to the greenhouse ceiling, attempting to diffuse the newfound tension. 

“Cabrones!” he exclaimed, gesturing to heaven as a loud clap resounded authoritatively. He grinned back at you in supplication, shrinking down a bit, deferentially. “Come on, let’s get out of here…”. You took each others waist on the exit, ducking from the all-encompassing rain, running in short bursts all the way back to the subway entrance.

Teetering precariously on the humming subway, you held Pedge’s hand tightly in your own. You’d learned a lot from the Big Apple, as you braced your legs in a wide stance, hugging the subway pole territorially and glancing up at this countenance surreptitiously. There was no doubt in your mind Pedge was a great actor, but there were some things that didn’t need to be fabricated. You could feel the self doubt rolling in waves off of his shoulders, as he bit his lip with a worried repetition. Pulsing your hand in his, his eyes immediately shot up to yours with curiosity. “My place?” he squeaked, attempting to pull himself back into the real world.

“Mine” you intoned lightly, bringing his encased hand around your back supportively. He nodded quickly, slipping back into his tumultuous state of mind. You weren’t sure what Pedge needed in this moment, but whatever it was, you were determined to give it to him. He had given you so much during your time in New York, and this moment was about him. Your stomach flipped with anticipation, as you realized you were mostly packed for tomorrow’s exit. You didn’t know how to reconcile the many emotions coursing through your veins, as the city whirred past you in a blurry din of lights and streaking raindrops. Excitement, confusion, dread, concern, curiosity…it was a tumult of electricity moving through you much like the city itself. P sniffled forlornly, hugging your hip and offering you a tight smile. 

“Thanks” he offered matter of factly, unsure of how else to communicate the complexity of the moment. You turned your body towards his, caging him in and touching his face lightly. 

“Hey,” he locked eyes with you as you whispered “it’s going to be okay”. A flicker of pain flashed across his face for a millisecond before it quickly armored up in the buzzing atmosphere. Your voice caught in your throat, knowing EXACTLY how P felt in this uncertain situation, poised before an unknown adventure on the horizon.

The subway started to grind to a metallic stop as you teased Pedge with his earlier retort. “Gotta expect the unexpected”. He smiled with fatigue, his shoulders heavy with gravitas, as you approached your stop. Leading him wordlessly by the hand you exited the  subway and quietly made your way down the street. Gazing at the flickering lamplights, uproarious laughter and honking taxi cabs you wished you could forever house him in a cocoon of safety, but soon enough. Hitting the doorstep to your Airbnb, you double checked once more, “Come up for a night cap?”

Pedge nodded quietly, eyes gazing downward. You pursed your lips pensively, cupping his face in your hand and bringing his eyes up to meet your face. “I have wine” you offered forlornly, rubbing your thumb in a small circle across his cheek. 

“Perfect for whining” he almost whimpered, losing steam by the second.

Hand firmly clasped and trudging up the stairs you led him into the apartment, dropping your purse and rain soaked shoes at the door. You set about pouring two glasses of Pinot Noir and returned to the door finding Pedge unmoving, where you’d left him. He was shivering slightly with his arms folded tightly over his chest, looking downward. Somehow his broad shoulders and chest had collapsed further down, and he looked so small. Almost like a little boy, fretting about stolen candy.

“Drink up” you offered, placing the wine glass in his hand and toasting it with a clinking sound. He grinned with an air of melancholy, downing the glass in one fell swoop and breathing heavily. “I know this is the last thing you want to hear right now, but I’m toasting you. I’m toasting us…”. He rolled his eyes with self-annoyance, tightening his lips in a fine line to prevent himself from speaking. “You were fucking GREAT in that scene” you congratulated him, as he took a shuddering breath, playing with the slightly frayed edges of his now drying dress shirt. “I’m serious” you stepped directly under his chin, nosing the bristling patches of his beard and coaxing his eyes towards yours. “I’m a touring Broadway performer…and I KNOW talent when I see it” you chided self-deprecatingly as he smiled slyly, still not meeting your eyes completely. “It’s not everyone who gets to die on Game of Thrones” you teased, kicking his booted foot with your bare one.

“I’m pretty sure that’s the status quo” his voice cracked in defeat, trying to drain the dregs of his mostly empty wine glass and pouting slightly. “Seconds?” he quipped, handing the glass back to you. 

“Definitely” you encouraged, downing your glass quickly as well. You gazed over at the pumping radiator hissing angrily in the corner as Pedge removed his shoes and headed over to the couch, plopping down unceremoniously. Pouring two more glasses of wine you came to join him, setting the glasses down on the nearby coffee table. 

“You’re all wet” you reprimanded, running a tender hand through his hair and drawing it down his neck. 

Pedge smiled mischievously to himself, “What, are we doing our scene again?” he teased, tilting his head sideways on his elbow.

“We get better every time we practice” you drew your finger across his brow which had become furrowed in bitter recollection. 

“What I’m missing in my apartment is a woman” he sighed, placing his palm over your thigh and sliding his fingers ever so slightly under the rain soaked fabric.

“What are you doing this weekend?” you asked, your breath hitching cautiously in your chest and drawing your finger down the front of his dress shirt, popping one or two buttons, loosely.

Moving his thumb to the soft skin on the inside of your thigh delicately he jested, “Stuck in a depressive episode because my friend is abandoning me for career opportunities that I lack”. 

You paused, reprimanding his harsh evaluation with a stern look.

“Too soon? It’s too soon for joking…” he sighed, sinking into the couch and laying back to gaze at the ceiling.

“Ven aqui” you whispered, tentatively sliding across the couch and straddling his quads as he held you around the waist. “Dame un beso” you leaned closer, collapsing your weight to his body and nibbling at his neck. You felt him relax beneath you as you drew the fleshy part of your lower lip up his chiseled jaw, nestling in the patchy scratches of his beard. Feeling his fingers drifting lower over your backside you kept your eyes closed, and then connected with his lips passionately, breathing one another in and out. All thought left your mind completely, poised at the task of comforting him however you could. You were mindlessly circling your hips over his dress pants as he slid the shoulders of your sundress down to your waist.

Pressing your breasts up against his chest, you moved together in synchronicity, allowing the vibrating warmth of the wine to pulse inside you. After a few minutes, you pulled back to look at his sorrowful eyes, placing your hands lightly atop his stomach.

“What does it mean?” he whispered, looking into your eyes imploringly. You weren’t sure if he was referencing your connection, or the audition, or even life itself. Naturally drawn to the existential questions, you smiled, moved by his artistry and confusion. 

“It doesn’t have to mean anything” you repeated his words back to him from earlier. “It’s just a moment. And we can decide whatever we want”. His face crumpled slightly in recognition as you took his face in your hands sweetly. “What do you need?” you asked straightforwardly, trying to hone your skills of telepathy as he drew his arms lightly up and down your back.

“I don’t even know” he muttered, looking around the room for inspiration. “I’m all over the place” he dropped his hands to the side, laying back against the couch with resignation and pausing to consider his feelings.

You waited quietly, atop his lap, resting your hands against his chest, hearing the deafening tic-tock of the battery operated clock in the corner.

His face contorted quietly in a small whimper. “I really thought I had it” he cried softly, covering his face quickly with his hands in embarrassment.

You welled up, watching him doubt the artistry and talent he clearly possessed, and knowing all too well that sometimes that just wasn’t enough. “Hey” you gently took his hands away from his face as he turned his head to the side with chagrin. “YOU are enough” you laced your fingers through his own, bringing them up to your chest with abandon. He chuckled, feeling the edges of your exposed bra against his fingers, eyeing you from the side.

“You think so?” he teased dolefully, fingering at the delicate skin of your breasts and humming shyly.

“I DO think so!” you brought his chin back to center with a deft finger as he eyed your chest sacredly, slowly bringing his gaze up to yours. He shivered slightly, gulping back the tears, determined to offer a more resolute countenance. “There are just some moments in life you have to be…patient” you reasoned, realizing that your time was whittling down from hour to hour. “Timing is everything and sometimes…it’s not yet time” you looked at him appraisingly, realizing that perhaps he needed a different kind of release than the obvious one.

“Come on” you carefully slid off of his lap watching his melancholy gaze follow after you along with his outstretched hands. “We’re taking a shower, and then we’re going to bed” you stated matter-a-factly.

“We are?” his curiosity peaked as he stifled a small yawn of emotional fatigue.

“Yeah, mister, some of us have to get up early for our grand exit, and I’m not leaving you with a New York City sized cold” you rationalized, leaving the wine glasses on the table. “What you need is a hot shower and a cuddle” nodding your head firmly as Pedge shakily arose, unbuttoning the rest of his shirt en route. “You’ve bossed me around enough, now it’s my turn…”

“I haven’t been bossy!” Pedge called after you, unzipping his pants and hopping down the hallway awkwardly.

“You most certainly have!” your voice echoed from the bathroom as the shower roared to life, attempting to distract P from the tumultuous day’s events. You smiled to yourself, stripping off the clingy sundress and shimmying your underwear to the floor in a tangled bundle.

You wiggled your fingers through the lukewarm water, anticipating the vanilla scented body wash you’d discovered at the Airbnb. Pedge’s voice crescendoed as he rounded the corner in his boxer briefs, “Okayeeee California…” he stopped abruptly seeing your half naked figure in the bathroom. You turned your body towards him mischievously as you drank one another in. Pedge covered his crotch with one hand, blushing slightly, and then hiding back behind the doorframe. “Are we doing this?” he smirked, peaking out from the hallway.

“I’m taking a shower” you teased, unhooking your bra in one motion and dropping it to the floor along with Pedge’s jaw. “And I’m hoping you’re going to join me, Prince Dorne or whatever the hell your name is…” you clutched your hands around your chest stepping into the shower and immediately enjoying the hot streams of water pelting your skin.

“Don’t have to tell me twice, boss” he stepped out of his underwear, kicking it to the corner with yours and hopping in behind you, pulling the curtain shut. You laughed wryly, taking a quick glance at his nether regions with admiration.

“Okay, Prince…” your eyebrows shot up to the ceiling with curiosity. “Do we get to see you in all this splendor on the big screen, or is this a private showing?” you poked him in the belly button, watching his length pinken and swell slightly. He blushed again as the shower heated up in more ways than one.

“I’m not hearing any complaints” he rasped, drawing his body to yours and pulling your hair taut behind you. You shivered slightly with the changing temperature and feather light touch of his fingertips at your back.

“I’m proud of you” you nuzzled into his neck, trying to breathe around the billowing clouds of steam wafting over your bodies. He pulled his face back slightly, holding you around the waist loosely and looking into your eyes with intention.

“Thank you” he nodded, taking your chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Thanks for being here with me” he kissed you lightly on the lips for a long moment. You sighed contentedly, reaching haphazardly for the loofah sponge.

“Alright, any areas off-limits? How do we feel about vanilla?” you smiled, lathering your hands.

“Sky’s the limit” he laughed, slowly allowing his previous worries to wash away with the bubbling soap suds.

You drew the sponge across his chest moving in slow circles drifting lower and lower until you hit the tuft of hair at the base of his torso. Pedge hissed in quickly, twitching at your light touch. “This okay?” you intoned, watching his face for micro expressions. His eyes glazed over slightly, melting into your hand. “Yeeaaaa” he drawled, stepping an inch closer to your body magnetically. “My turn?”

You handed the sponge off to him, rotating in place, feeling the warm suds cascading down your back seductively. 

“Ticklish?” he teased landing a quick swath downward and cupping your backside, eliciting a myriad of giggles.

“Maybe?” you crumpled slightly, turning back to face him. He pecked at your lips tentatively as you wrapped your arms around his neck, feeling his length bump up in between your legs tantalizingly. You hummed into his mouth peacefully as you both swayed carefully in the sudsy, warm atmosphere. Enjoying one another until your fingertips were starting to prune, you broke away from the lengthy kiss to massage his shoulders comfortingly. “Any better?” you questioned watching his tranquil expression.

“I’ll be okay” he nodded, assembling his thoughts once again and sighing with relief. “Like somebody wise told me; not all who wander are lost” he acquiesced.

Toweling one another off to small kisses and quick tickles you ruffled his hair affectionately. “I think I’m ready for tomorrow. Any big advice before I head into the next adventure?” you asked, wrapping the towel around your body modestly and looking at Pedge in the steam coated mirror. He reached over your shoulder, swiping a clear path along the reflective surface and gazing back at your questioning expression. 

“Why? Do you want my acting advice?” he jested, before you elbowed him in the stomach jokingly. 

“Ouch” he rubbed his tummy slyly, pondering for a moment. “Just be good to yourself and be good to others” he rested his chin drolly on your shoulder looking at you in the mirror.

“Be good to yourself” you repeated to his reflection as he fluttered his eyelids comedically. “And be good to others” you turned to hug him affectionately, pressing your body against his. You stood that way for what felt like an eternity before Pedge chided,

“Is your towel gonna fall down if we stop hugging?” he laughed, before you pulled back tauntingly. 

“Wanna find out?” you teased, grasping your towel around the edge and scooting past Pedge before he swatted you on the ass.

You eyed your packed suitcase in the corner of the bedroom sadly before dropping the towel to the floor and throwing on a cozy pink sweater over your softened frame. Pedge appeared in the doorway, holding his towel at the waist. “Got one of those for me?” he quipped, looking around the room appraisingly. You grabbed one of your tourist purchases you had bought with Pedge in Time Square holding it up in front of his body with delight. 

“I heart New York” Pedge read, grabbing at the t-shirt and pulling it over his frame smoothly. “Works for me” he yawned, hitting the light switch as you both crawled into bed with exhaustion. There was lots of laughing and shifting as the bed creaked noisily over the hard wood floor. “Geez, is this futon gonna collapse under us both?” Pedge teased, finally pulling you in to his body and resting his head in the crook of your neck.

“Let’s hope not, I don’t wanna pay an extra Airbnb fee” you yawned, settling into the mattress and covering his arms with your own. “Thanks again for all of your help, Pedge, I couldn’t have done this without you” your words started to mumble slightly as you felt your body relax into his hold.

“I’m really excited for you and your tour” he breathed into your neck, kissing it slightly at the base. “I’m sorry I ruined everything with a lousy audition. I didn’t want today to be about me…”.

You turned in his embrace, desperately trying to locate the chocolate depths of his eyes in the darkened room. “You didn’t ruin a thing, Pedge” you began. “As artists, we get to experience all of this together, wherever we find ourselves. Our victories. Our defeats. It’s one big tapestry, and it’s nice to find ourselves knitted together.” Even in the dark, you could feel the intensity of his gaze pouring into you. “Was tonight okay? I mean…do you need more?” you stuttered, eager to show your support in whatever way you could. The silence stretched out before you as your heart fluttered nervously in your chest. Perhaps you had said too much…Had the intimacy of the day somehow threatened your easy friendship? You heard a single tear patter to the pillowcase as Pedge caught you in an unexpected and passionate kiss. You held each other, attempting to hold time further still.

“Today was everything I needed, and more” Pedge whispered. “Thank you for being my friend. I’m proud of you” he smiled, and your heart exploded in your chest with joy. 

“I’m proud of you, P” you whispered back, slowly starting to drift into a happy haze, feeling the hairs of his beard bristling at your neck and his arms wrapped firmly around your waist in comfort. “You’ve got a big day tomorrow, just rest” his voice echoed in the recesses of your mind before you fell asleep.

The morning was filled with anticipation as Pedge returned to the apartment with coffee and bagels before your departure. Although the air was tinged with sadness it was also humming with the electricity of a new adventure, as you looked over at your small suitcases dotting the stoop and winter coat draped over the luggage.

Pedge’s easy smile had returned, despite the previous day’s apparent defeat and you marveled once again at the resiliency artists such as yourselves had to demonstrate day after day.

“You gonna watch me on tv next month?” Pedge asked sipping at his iced quad espresso jovially, having already inhaled his breakfast.

“What do you think Mr. Six Shots?” you laughed, nibbling cautiously at the everything bagel, too adrenaline fueled to consider your own latte.

“I did okay” he deflected, considering recent events. “Netflix-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named might be a dud, but somethings gotta be on the horizon…” he reasoned. “I think my agent mentioned something about Gotham coming up…”.

“I’m not gonna have to watch you die in that too, am I?” you jested, tossing your napkin deftly at his face. 

“Fine by me” he grumbled. “Currently I can’t get arrested, and I’m more than happy to die as many times as is necessary…”. 

You pouted placatingly. “See me off later?”

“You bet” he smiled. “I’ve got a meeting with my agent, but it might get pushed. They can’t drop me after GOT, right?” he pondered, inhaling the rest of his espresso nervously.

“They’d be INSANE if they did!” you argued, grasping his wrist. “I’m fairly certain any nervousness you’re feeling is fully caffeinated at this point…”. He smiled mischievously, wrapping his hand over yours. “I’m overthinking everything” he confessed. “Let’s head to the studio and get you on the road, chickadee” he teased, kissing you on the cheek and heading towards the door. “Adventures await!” he flung open the door to your Airbnb, attempting to grab ALL of your luggage in a bear hug, amidst your protestations and giggles. Goodbye New York City, and hello newfound adventure. It felt amazing to be taking Pedge’s encouragement right along with you.

The morning passed by in a blur. The company had assembled at Ripley Grier as P headed upstairs to the Equity offices for his meeting. You had already said your official goodbyes, but as the note session wrapped up, your heart plummeted slightly realizing this was it. The company was packing up, and Pedge was nowhere to be found. Better to rip the bandaid off, you reasoned, rolling your baggage into the elevator and heading downstairs to the awaiting tour bus. The atmosphere was tinged with anticipation, laughter and ambition as you all piled into the bus, heading to your out of town technical rehearsal in upstate New York. You marveled at the miracle your life had evolved into, and resolved to make every moment count in all the artistic relationships you had made and were going to enjoy for a lifetime. You just wished you could somehow wrap it all up in your little pink suitcase to take with you. Settling into your seat you nervously glanced at your phone.

Pedge must still be in his meeting, you thought, wondering why everything was taking so long. Would an agency really drop a star performer, just because they hadn’t landed the most recent audition? It was ludicrous to even consider, but you shook your head in disapproval. The artistic life wasn’t a predictable one, but P’s talent would sustain him in whatever situation he found himself. You were confident it was just a matter of time. Broadway, television, movies…Pedge could make it happen, and you would be able to watch him do it.

You waited expectantly, the seconds ticking by disappointingly. Damn. The production manager hopped on the bus mic, updating the company as you rolled out. You pressed your fingertips to the glass reticently. Bye, Pedge. Your lip wobbled with emotion as you heaved a heavy sigh of longing. Can’t be in two places at once, chica…Pedge’s voice seemed to tint your own imagination as you watched the cogs of the city slowly mechanizing forward. Swaths of bright yellow sunshine-colored cabs, elbowing one another for dominance. An array of humanity dotting the busy streets as the cumbersome bus angled awkwardly between cyclists, pedestrians and automobiles. Your phone buzzed loudly in your hand.

You pouted with discouragement, watching Ripley Grier fade into the background.

Sighing heavily you rested your head against the bus window. Geez, EVERYTHING was taking forever. NY wasn’t designed for bumbling busses. You inched forward at a glacial pace. At this rate, tech wasn’t gonna start until next week.

You parried, hoping to get a response, to no avail. Well this was anticlimactic. So much for the grand exit. You waited another five minutes, settling in for the lengthy drive. This was just the beginning of the adventure, so let’s all hurry up and wait, you surmised. New York City streets were a cornucopia of mankind. You smiled watching a woman in a mink, dragging a tea cup poodle behind her. A gaggle of school kids, obviously playing hooky on a Monday. Artistic graffiti. Piles of trash on the side of the road. What a town, you observed.

Your eyes shot up to your forehead in confusion. Huh?

I AM looking out my window, you chided, wondering if you were EVER going to exit the Big Apple. Hard to start the next adventure if you never finished the first one. You squinted begrudgingly at the sea of humanity before you. Pretzel cart. Check. The bus puttered a few more feet forward. Fire escape argument decorated with a laundry line backdrop. Check. Geez, New York was its own movie set. Pashminas, snow globes, tourist caricatures…What were you supposed to be looking for?

A bouncing balloon caught your eye as a beaming Pedge bounced playfully beside it. “Sorry For Your Loss” it read contradictorily, in opposition to the contagious light cascading out of P’s eyes. You goofball, you smiled, popping up in your seat and nearly banging your head on the luggage rack.

“Sit the f@ck down!” the driver congenially reprimanded, attempting to bulldoze over a school bus to the right. Pedge darted in and out of traffic, arriving at the molasses paced flow of traffic and banging on the side of the bus. “Get the f@ck outta the road!” the bus driver yelled, braking before he hit the taxicab in front of him. 

Pedge yelled back, “Hey, I’m WALKIN’ HERE!” unfazed by the onslaught of cars and apathetic onlookers. He skipped sideways, pointing to his phone as the balloon bobbed next to his head. Gazing down at your hand you immediately recognized his number and answered.

“You idiot, get out of the road before you’re flattened like a pancake. We don’t need another Dorne situation!” you laughed, stumbling to the front of the bus.

“I got it” he smiled, his voice a tinny, delayed echo on the phone in relation to his enthusiastic and Cheshire like grin.

You lumbered to the driver’s right, stopping abruptly at the front of the bus.

“What? I can’t hear you, Pedge!” you plugged one ear as the driver berated you for getting out of your seat.

“I got it. Narcos. I got it.” he wriggled around the front of the bus carefully, arriving at the bus entrance.

You froze in delight, watching his boyish expression through the somewhat dirtied glass.

“WHAT???” you shrieked, now eliciting curious giggles and questions from the company as the production manager attempted to regain control of the situation.

You watched his mouth as he pointed animatedly into the phone. “I’M. JAVIER. PENA! I got it!” he banged on the door again loudly as the bus inched forward another foot. You shymied down the stairwell, yelling back at the driver, “Open the door! Open the door!”

“Geeeeezus, actors!” the driver drawled, a thick New York accent spilling forward. “You’re way past the line, lady!”

One of your company friends shouted from the back, “Goddam open the door already! Open, open, open!” the bus started chanting with encouragement as traffic seemed to close up in support of your reunion.

You grabbed your stomach theatrically, “Man, I really gotta puke, you better open this door, if you don’t want a situation..” you bluffed, watching Pedge bang on the door repetitively.

“Bitchy actors” the driver finally acquiesced, punching a button as the door jettisoned opened towards you. Without hesitation you flung yourself into P’s arms as the bus erupted into applause.

“Well that was cinematic” Pedge exclaimed into your ear, sending an electric tickle down your spine. He pulled back to face you, beaming broadly from ear to ear. “Can I hang up on you now?” he joked, holding you around the waist and booping you on the nose.

“I don’t see any puking!” the driver stated matter-a-factly inching the bus another few feet forward.

Pedge carried you sideways as the company pressed their noses up against the windows in rapt anticipation. “You got it?” you questioned, pulled in by the magnetism of his joy and wonder.

“I got it” he repeated, nodding his head in affirmation. “They didn’t know if GOT was going to be a scheduling conflict, and then something fell through..and…I got it!”. You were completely speechless, feet dangling off the ground and heart dangling in your chest with effervescence.

“Puking!” the driver abruptly interrupted, moving the bus a solid ten feet forward as traffic eased up slightly.

Pedge hopped sideways to keep up with the shifting traffic as you gripped him tightly around the neck. “We’re going to start shooting in Columbia in the next few weeks, I’ve gotta lease my apartment, my agents have already set up a meet with the FBI, it’s all f@cking happening, J!” you both laughed maniacally as the information spilled out of him joyfully. “It’s happening!”

“I knew it!” you exclaimed as he set you down, gripping your hands in front of you. You both started jumping up and down like little kids, as the balloon bobbed in acknowledgement along side you both. “I’m so proud of you Pedge!” you grinned.

“I’m kind of proud of me too” he agreed. “Looks like you could be a GREAT intimacy coach if this whole acting thing doesn’t work out” he joked, stepping forward into your personal space and hooking his fingers through your belt loops.

“Kiss her, kiss her, kiss her!” the company started chanting repetitively as the sounds of the city began to fade around you. Even the bus driver’s reprimands dulled in comparison to the light shining in Pedge’s eyes. You wrapped your arms around his neck, magnetically pulled into a passionate kiss. The world slowed…much like the current traffic…while you enjoyed your Big Goodbye, New York style. After what seemed like an eternity, the sounds of the city came rushing back in a torrent of sound and fury, as the company uttered a communal, juvenile “Awwwwww”.

“Give ‘em what they want” Pedge teased, brushing that pesky hair out of your face, and tucking it behind your ear.

“Looks like they want YOU” you returned, clasping his face in your palm, and circling the small heart shaped patch in his beard affectionately.

“Lady, either you’re in or out!” the driver finally smiled, juxtaposed by the production manager who looked like they were ACTUALLY going to be sick.

You turned back towards Pedge and quickly exclaimed, “I love you!” gasping slightly at your bizarre, somewhat ill-timed confession.

Somehow P’s smile broadened even more as he leaned in for a final peck on your lips. He set you back on the stair-stoop of the bus, comedically yelling at the taxicab that was precariously perched behind him, and slapping the hood of it theatrically. The doors whooshed closed as traffic finally eased up, allowing the bus to slowly advance. Pedge’s silhouette began to shrink as the bus continued its formative journey, and the company returned to their seats amidst the exhortations of the production manager. You gripped the handrails as Pedge waved dramatically, the small balloon escaping his grasp and dotting the horizon… “Sorry For Your Loss”. He jumped after it helplessly, finally shrugging his shoulders and waving extravagantly, seeing you off for a New York Goodbye that was truly cinema worthy.

Sorry For Your Loss, you whispered to yourself, plopping back down in your seat and smiling warmly. Every loss was a newfound gain. Every ending, a new beginning. And realizing that some journeys had only just begun. Not all who wander are lost, you reminded yourself, gazing down at your buzzing phone that was still in your hand.

You sat back contentedly in your seat watching New York City blur around you. I’m ready, you mused. I’m ready.

Moody SNL

Ohmygawwww...Don't cry. You're gonna make me cry. Honestly I think I fell in love on the spot. Always loved "The Mandalorian" but this completely did me in, along with his Variety Lie Detector Test...And the Talk Art Podcast...And "The Last of Us"...I mean, what can we say? It's been a slippery slope, but we should have won the Emmy (collectively, as a fandom)...

Moody Whiskey

"I got a six pack of cold ones on ice and my roomie's out all night. So you can scream my name as loud as you need to, sugar.”

Pedge, Painter, Poet...

I feel like Dieter's expression communicates my evolving thoughts on this piece. What can I say? I like it for Bi Visibility week? And I certainly like it better than the small cold I procured this weekend...

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...)

Bi-Awareness and Visibility Month

Oh this was really fun to put together :) As a sexy ace, I love my bi community as we love as much as is humanly possible! It's not my business to label orientation, particularly as it applies to others, but a girl can always dream. Besides which, we KNOW our guy is a beautiful advocate of the LGBTQ+ community. So I say, be good to yourself and be good to others. Pedge approves.

Moody Lucien

Alright, we don't know much about "The Uninvited" but I'm excited to stream it come November. And I KNOW y'all have seen that kissy kissy footage, thank you very much. Thanksgiving can't cum soon enough...

WIP Poll Pike's Place

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

Pike's Place Elf

Yay! Here's Episode Three of @burntheedges Roll-a-Trope Challenge! I'm really digging this slow burn series, final episode on Christmas Day :) A big thank you to @inept-the-magnificent for cool rec's and assists!

Triggers: lite smut, profanity, discussions of isolation/pandemic, that d@mn snow suit (costume malfunctions), stranded motorist, honestly at this point in the story we might just die of sugar overload, literal and metaphoric please proceed at your own risk...

Series Masterlist:

The fire was crackling brightly, flickering across Pike’s face as he gazed longingly into your eyes. Your body was perched atop his on the couch, two glasses of wine sitting in front of the television screen playing an endless loop of “It’s a Wonderful Life”. Snow was lightly falling across the pristine white landscape, as the both of your were housed in a cocoon of winter wonders. You sighed heavily into his chest, body thrumming with anticipation.

“I can’t believe this is happening” he whispered lowly, grazing his lips across the soft flesh of your neck, noticing the breath hitch in your throat haltingly. “Is this okay?” he pulled back with concern, his large hands rubbing your shoulders in one fluid motion and watching you intently.

“More than okay” you smiled, leaning in and hovering just above his lips teasingly. “This has been a Christmas I’ll never forget” you breathed into his ear, watching the goose bumps splay across his cinnamon skin. You felt the corners of his mouth turn up against your cheek, beard tickling at your grin as you pulled back to see his expression.

“I think showing up on my doorstep in the middle of a blizzard, wearing…THAT…was particularly memorable” he joked, eliciting small tickles from you as he crumpled in a protective vice, smashing your body against his in a useless defense.

“You were the one in your slutty, gray sweatpants crying into your Merlot!” you taunted mercilessly, reaching your hands around to his sides and pinching his ribs.

“Ouch!” Pike laughed, pausing dramatically until he had your full attention. “I was NOT crying into my Merlot…”. Your tickling hands halted for a millisecond, unsure if you had inadvertently hurt his feelings, or crossed a line. “It was a Pinot Noir.” Pike could give as good as he could take, and launched a full fledged tickle assault as you writhed atop his body with delight. You were squealing like a small child, squeaking and huffing as Pike tenderly wrestled you into submission. His movements started to slow, until his hands were gripping your back, and moving in small circles, lower and lower and lower. Your pupils dilated to to lustful circles, feeling magnetically drawn to his pouty lips, closer and closer and closer until….

KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!

You inhaled quickly, taking an adrenaline fueled moment to look around the room in assessment. The cozy dream you had been enjoying started to recede into the hazy background. It was juxtaposed against the pounding of your heart keeping time with the knocks at the door.

“I don’t want to scare you, but I think there’s a good chance a mystery woman in a pink snow suit may have burgled my winter cabin last night?” the muted tones of Pike drifted through the cabin door as you eyed said snow suit across the room. Grabbing at the sheets, you pulled them up to your chin, remembering you were only wearing a t-shirt you had found in his cabinet that was sinfully soft and smelling of a woodsy pine. The events of the previous evening came flooding back to you, drumming in your chest. There weren’t a lot of options after Bessie the Hyundai had come to an unceremonious halt in this unexpected blizzard. Trudging the distance to a nearby cabin you had come upon Agent Marcus Pike, unlikely tipsy hero, who had offered you lodging in this unexpected conundrum. Truthfully, he had primarily offered you hot chocolate, as you listened to his melancholy tale of heart break and isolation. It hadn’t taken much to draw you in to the warmth of his personality and plight, particularly as it seemed aided by one too many glasses of red. Falling asleep on the couch you had tucked him in for the night and headed upstairs to survive the snow storm. The fuzzy remnants of your dream flashed into your memory as a smirk dotted your face. Guess it was obvious which direction your subconscious was headed, as it dragged your conscious mind right along with it. But would Agent Pike seem nearly as adorable in the harsh light of day? 

“I must remind you in this moment that I AM a man of the law, and trespassers will be treated with the utmost stringency and repudiation”. Silence followed as you gulped dryly. Oh my. Maybe he didn’t remember the events of last night and had already called the police. A quick image of you in a pink snowsuit and handcuffs flashed comedically across your mind scape.

“I’m not trespassing!” you called out, trying to diffuse the situation. The door gently swung open on a light squeak as Pike stood before you in a pressed white dress shirt and slacks carrying…a tray of pancakes?

Your mouth dropped open slightly taking in the angelic sight before you. You almost had to laugh at the comical rom-com persona grimacing before you, silhouetted by the morning sun. Pike couldn’t have appeared MORE cinematic, as you took in the bowl of pinecones, restaurant perfect pancakes, glass of orange juice and mug that read… “I’m only a morning person on Christmas Day”.

“I don’t usually make pancakes for burglars, but in this case, I thought I’d make an exception?” he joked, taking a quick glance at your disheveled morning hair and freckled confusion. Oh you were even cuter than he remembered from last night. Truthfully, he didn’t remember much. There was pink, there was a crowbar, there was…lingerie? That part seemed more like a fever dream. But glancing out the window of his snow-covered cabin he could clearly see a small car dotting the landscape, and the aforementioned crowbar sat atop the living room table, so there was evidence enough of his Merlot fueled fantasy. Somehow Jimmy Stewart, Donna Reed and the whole experience was a bit muddled in his mind, but he was fairly certain a roadster had requested lodging for the night and…he furrowed his brow in concentration. There was a lot of pink. Sexy pink? He cleared his throat with discomfort. One more example of romanticizing EVERY moment indiscriminately. But standing before you, gazing at your questioning expression he felt slightly justified in his usually theatrically perceptions. His memory was functioning just fine. You WERE adorable. And he had pancakes.

“I…uh…don’t remember ALL the details from last night, but I noticed your car out front, and thought you might have found yourself slightly stranded…” he trailed off, eyes widening at the sparkly pink bra draped across an even louder pink snowsuit. Ah, that was…something. The tray shook in his hand ever so slightly as a red tint crossed his cheeks, blazingly hot. “Oh, we didn’t…um…I mean…” he stuttered with concern, noticing the t-shirt you were wearing from his closet.

“Absolutely not!” you blurted out, nearly standing up, but remembering you were only wearing his t-shirt underneath the bedsheets. “Agent Pike…I mean Mr. Marcus…M-Marcus!” you took a deep breath, attempting to still your heart throbbing loudly in your ears. “I don’t make it a point to take advantage of…members of the Art Squad..” you winced awkwardly attempting to form a cohesive thought “…who have taken ME in for the night” you punctuated your sentence definitively trying to regain some measure of composure, and spotting his sigh of relief with slight disappointment.

The floorboards creaked beneath him as he shifted his weight with indecision.

“What kind of pancakes are those” you managed to eek out, happy to fill the void.

“Chocolate chip! I don’t have much in the way of sugar so your coffee might taste like maple syrup, I don’t know how you like it.”

I’m more than happy to tell you how I like it, Agent Pike, you clandestinely thought, overjoyed to finally keep your inner monologue silent for once.

“Can I…?” Pike paused precariously at the doorstep, indicating the foot of the bed.

“Please” you rasped. Somehow this appeared a bit begging on your part so you cleared your throat for a second attempt. “Yes, please enter”. Good Lord, it’s getting worse. Why do I ever use words, you wondered as Pike jauntily walked in, setting the tray down at the foot of the bed, and grazing your ankle ever so slightly with his pinky. You jerked away nervously, suddenly aware of his close proximity. Pike’s eyes shot up to yours with intensity.

“I’m sorry you were having car trouble last night” he took a step back, clasping his hands behind him modestly. “I did call the local mechanic and Triple A in the interim, but everything seems to be inaccessible at the moment.”

You nodded your head appraisingly, unfortunately unsurprised. This California Girl didn’t know much about blizzards, but business was hard enough during the holidays, let alone on a Sunday. You took another detailed look at Agent Marcus Pike who was casting quite the coifed, clean shaven aesthetic this morning in a button down white shirt and even wearing his lanyard, adding to his official presence.

“I didn’t realize the Art Squad was so proficient in the culinary arts” you teased, eyeing him up and down.

He smirked shyly, drawing his hand behind his neck and rubbing slightly. “I didn’t realize burglars were so pretty” he bit his lip painfully, already annoyed at himself. Too much. 

Your cheeks reddened as you pulled the sheets up even higher than they already were. “Well, it’s important when you’re having car trouble to try to look as fabulous as you can” you chuckled self-deprecatingly, feeling a bit out of sorts. “And what about you Agent Pike, are you…headed to work?” you questioned, wondering at his apparel.

“Oh, this old thing? I only wear it when I don’t care how I look!” he chuckled, backing out of the room slowly. “And you can call me Mr. Marcus, I mean M-Marcus, if you want…” he tripped slightly over the frame, grabbing the doorknob to steady himself. “I’ll just be downstairs tidying up, no rush” he ducked his head out quickly before he said anything else.

You laughed quietly to yourself, breathing a sigh of relief. Looks like you weren’t the only one out of sorts. You gazed down at the steaming cup of coffee and plated pancakes and smiled. What holiday Hallmark movie had you stepped into?

Pike plodded down the stairs shaking his head from side to side. Nice one, Pike, real smooth, he chastised himself, heading back into the kitchen. Why didn’t you just ask her ring size while you were there? He had to chuckle to himself, trying to elicit a bit of grace, noticing “Elf” playing on the television screen. That’s not an old movie, he muttered under his breath, but smiling with recognition. If anybody understood Buddy the Elf it was him. Endlessly optimistic, overly enthusiastic and a hopeless romantic. He took a moment to appreciate the roaring fire in the hearth, and pulled back the curtains to see your small forlorn Hyundai, punctuating the snowscape. Still on East Coast time, he had awakened bright and early, using all of his investigative skills to piece together the previous evening. It was unlike him to have spent so much time moping in the preceding week, and your unexpected arrival had jarred him into a state of productivity. Re-starting his indoor exercise regiment, he decided to make a better “first impression”, jumping in the shower and presenting a clean-shaven business appearance. He didn’t want you to think he was a lush, wiling away the holiday hours and fretting into his Merlot. It’s true the last couple months had been an emotional roller coaster, but there was no better time than the present to turn over a new leaf. Pike looked around the tidied cabin appraisingly. He had already called Triple A, and the local mechanic, to no avail. He’d already been up for four hours and was attempting to quell the nervous restlessness bouncing around inside his chest. Still smarting from his recent romantic escapades, he was well aware that enthusiasm was his downfall. He just couldn’t help himself, and the holidays seemed to intensify his longing. Perhaps he could just enjoy the possibility of a new friendship, and help you on your way to wherever you were going. He gazed over at Buddy who had just finished decorating all of Macy’s in a holiday extravaganza. Rolling up his sleeves with determination, he reasoned there was only one thing left to do in this anxious state. It was time to start baking.

Ever since Pike’s gentle appearance at the door, your heart wouldn't stop hammering in your chest. It had been so long since you made any new friends, let alone someone…from the Art Squad. You mindlessly inhaled the delectable breakfast Pike had assembled, downing the maple flavored cup of coffee in one gulp. What was a girl to do? This wasn’t a real Hallmark Holiday special. This wasn’t “It’s a Wonderful Life” and you weren’t Donna Reed. You were here, on a working vacation, as per your therapist’s recommendation, and Bessie the Hyundai had mercilessly betrayed you on this blustery blizzard Sunday. Firmly grasping your fantasies in one hand you hopped out of bed, determined to double down on your holiday independence. If something seemed too good to be true, it probably was, and you were obviously infringing on Marcus’ Holiday solo expedition. Sorry, Agent Pike, you reprimanded yourself. No getting familiar now, just because he had accidentally seen you in your altogethers. Pull up your big girl snow suit and get back to work! Taking off his large t-shirt you gripped it in your hands, indulging in one final inhale of the woodsy cologne, and flung it onto the bed. Something for the road, you reasoned, hopping back into your pink snowsuit and mustering every ounce of determination you had left. You gazed over at the demolished breakfast, disappointed at your decision to make a quick exit. Compliments to the chef, you pouted, willing yourself to dart down the stairwell, before you changed your mind.

“IamsosorryIinterruptedyourholidayvacayIcantthankyouenoughforthemazingbreakfastandhospitality.HonestlyitssoembarassingthatBessiekonkedoutIamsureIcangiveitanothergo.AndthankyouagainforallofyourhelpAgentPike!”

Pike peaked his head out of the kitchen just in time to see the flurry of pink cascading by him in a tornado of activity, whisking down the stairwell and practically running toward the door.

“Oh watch out for the…!”

If you had paused long enough to see Pike’s fallen countenance at your quick departure you might have anticipated the upcoming results. But grabbing the crowbar on your exit, you flung open the cabin door and nearly fell over the waist high tumult of snow.

“….snow fall!” Pike managed to get out before a clump fell on top of your head poised just beneath the door frame. You had never seen so much snow in all your life. The momentum of your exit catapulted you forward as you fell face first into the soft pillowed blanket of snow. Pike hurried forward, grasping your snow suit around the waist and hoisting you back up to a standing position. You inhaled shakily, icicles stinging your cheeks as your feet slid on top of the snowy dregs. “Steady there, sailor!” Pike laughed, gripping you hard around the waist and pulling you in for an awkward hug. This seemed vaguely reminiscent of your earlier dream, as he reached up to brush some stray snowflakes from your surprised expression. “I don’t think you’re going anywhere for the next 24 hours” he appraised, somewhere between an apology and a suggestion, as you blinked confusedly. “Let’s get you indoors for a second” he surmised, taking in your silence and sliding you back into the cabin’s warmth. He left his hand on your lower back for a bit longer than was absolutely necessary, making sure you had your sea legs and then give you a quick wink before heading back into the kitchen.

“I already called Triple A and the mechanic down the hill, but you’re welcome to ring them as well” he called from the kitchen, returning to his task at hand. You shook your head violently from side to side. So much for Barbie’s break for independence, you scoffed, looking over at the flickering television screen and Zooey Deschanel singing in the shower. Maybe this wasn’t a situation you could easily run from.

“How did those pancakes treat ya?” he inquired, grabbing a nearby apron that said “Who Needs a Hug?” and pulling a cookie sheet out of the oven. Momentarily stunned into silence you tried to get your bearings in the midst of this snowy quandary. Your Arts and Crafts Girl Scout Training hadn’t prepared you for this particular scenario, but you were an independent gal, with brains and boobs. Time to rally your wits and try anew.

“Um…the pancakes were absolutely amazing” you confessed, watching Pike beam with pride and pour you another cup of coffee in the interim. “Are you starting a bed and breakfast anytime soon?’ you teased, pulling your snowsuit hood back down and taking the coffee from him.

“I think I’m gonna need better hosting skills for that to happen” he apologized with chagrin. “I’m not sure you were catching me at my best last night” the pained expression on his face, softened your resolve as you plopped down at the dining room table huffily.

“Maybe we have a do-over this morning, I’m not sure either of us were on our best behavior” you gulped down your second cup of joe as Pike set down the cookie tray and outstretched his hand.

“I’m Marcus Pike from the Art Squad in Sacramento, and you are?”

You took his hand warmly, grinning from ear to ear. “I’m snow time Barbie, I come with props, though there have been some factory disputes regarding my somewhat defunct Hyundai.” Pike smiled broadly in acknowledgement, returning to his baking. 

“Sounds like Pike’s Place is just the spot for you”.

You and Pike feel into an easy rapport for the next hour, chatting about holiday plans run amok, recent work challenges and options for your car’s retrieval. After some digging on your part you confirmed that all nearby resources were in the lurch and you’d be forced to spend at least the next 24 hours at “Pike’s Place” whether he wanted you to or not. Downing a glass of cold milk, Pike patted his stomach with contentment.

“I think I’ve probably eaten enough chocolate chip cookies for the both of us”, he laughed, returning your coffee mug to the sink and starting the dishes. “Do you wanna watch a movie while we wait out the storm? I think I already offered, but there IS hot chocolate…”.

You paused reflexively catching yourself in a Cheshire like grin. You hadn’t even been hesitant the last hour, revealing parts of yourself that had stayed hidden for the last several years, and being unaccustomed to that level of intimacy, started experiencing an emotional hangover of sorts. Your face literally hurt from smiling so much, but what did you really know about Marcus? Agent. Pike. This was a lot to process in a short amount of time, and the walls of the cabin started to feel just a bit more oppressive in retrospect. The fire roared loudly from the hearth as you back pedaled slightly. 

“Um, is it possible to use your laptop for some work, maybe? I AM supposed to be on a working vacation…” you ventured, attempting to reboot to something a bit more neutral.

“Come on, you don’t need to work on a Sunday!” Pike teased from the kitchen.

“Well, you don’t really know me very well, do you?” the sentence escaped your lips before you had a chance to consider the ramifications. The mood immediately shifted from the cozy camaraderie you had been experiencing to a blizzard like cold.

“I guess that’s true…” Pike stalled, wondering in the tonality shift. “But I’d…like the chance…if you have time…” he trailed off, unsure of his direction.

You kind of stopped breathing for a second, grappling with the many emotions fighting for your attention. What was going on? Once again your snow suit seemed hotter than ever as you picked at the cuticles on your nails. Had you actually forgotten how to interact with other humans? Did the pandemic really fuck you up so much you couldn’t even consider the possibility that someone might actually like you, without some sort of hidden agenda?

“I can come up with lots of activities!” Pike tried to brighten the mood again. “I think we’ve got Twister…uh…cards…puzzles? Oooh, maybe we could make some snowflakes out of newspaper!” he piped up over the clanging dishes.

“Snowflakes?” you uttered, incredulously. “Are you kidding, Art Squad? This isn’t a daycare, I actually have some work I need to get done…”

“Oh. Right.” Pike stuttered, returning to the dishes. The silence stretched out awkwardly before you, as you gazed at his broad back and now hunched shoulders. Outside of his gaze you bit your lower lip with embarrassment. Where did that come from? No wonder you hadn’t dated anyone in years. Bitch. I don’t deserve somebody like Pike, you rationalized, suddenly very aware of your limitations, both without and within. You felt your eyes welling up with tears unexpectedly.

“I mean, if that’s okay with you…” you stumbled forward politely, trying to assemble your emotions one at a time. Get in a line, motherfuckers, you chided. You’re a guest, you’re stranded and you have nowhere else to go. Just because you’re alone on the holidays doesn’t mean you have to take it out on Mar…on Agent Pike.

Pike cleared his throat, softening his expression slightly. “Sure, just check the briefcase over there in the study” he muttered, trying to focus on the dishes. You quietly stood up, heading over to the side room and quickly caught sight of his briefcase. Popping open the metal latches, his laptop thunked to the bottom as you caught sight of several manilla folders and a small photo of a smiling woman with kind, brown eyes.

Uh oh. The ex.

You picked up the photo hesitatingly, as though rummaging around through his underwear drawer. I wonder if he wears boxers of briefs? Oh shut up, Barbie. You swallowed hard, wondering at the circumstances you both found yourselves in. You truly believed everyone was just doing their best. You didn’t have the copyright on injustice or personal heartache. It wasn’t easy to make changes or move in a new direction, but Pike was trying to move on, and he didn’t need your insecurities or relative isolation clouding his own. Get it together woman, you resolved. You can do better than this. Make a plan to get yourself out of this situation and leave Agent Pike to his own healing. Heaven’s knows you’re not put together enough to warrant his attentions. You stifled a small sniffle, feeling that all too familiar lump in your throat rising to the surface. Grabbing the laptop you returned to the living room, determined to make a better representation of yourself, but found the setting completely still.

Agent Pike did seem like a fantastical figment of your imagination, but even the Art Squad couldn’t evaporate into thin air. Your heart sank, realizing how alone you might truly be if not for the safety of the cabin and Pike’s warm disposition. Did you really just ruin things from the get go? Sitting quietly at the dining room table you had just haltingly opened the laptop when Pike lumbered down the stairs in a winter jacket and heavy snow boots.

“Be right back” he muttered, flinging the door wide open and shutting it abruptly behind  him. He continued, wading through the waist high snow to a nearby woodshed.

Mouth ajar, you peered out the snowy window to see him retrieve a snow shovel and begin barreling towards Bessie with decided purpose. Your lip quivered with emotion as a single, unbidden tear found its way down your cheek, pattering to the floor. Jesus, you can’t even manage one day with a perfect specimen like Marcus, how were you ever going to make it work with anyone in this state of mind, particularly during the holidays? Sigh. You returned to the dining room table awash with defeat. Agent Pike. His name is Agent Pike.

Pike allowed the cold sting of the snowy tundra to purify his meandering thoughts as he drove a hard line to Bessie the Hyundai. This is a test, Pike, hegrunted with effort, flinging powdery snow to either side, making quick work of his hundred foot task. When faced with temptation are you going to take the path of least resistance or are you going to man up and admit the truth? Pike paused to catch his breath looking back at the cozy cabin and billowing plumes of smoke chugging from the happy chimney. What truth? He coughed heartily, watching his breath blossom in the cold air. It’s time to start thinking realistically, and without entitlement. This woman doesn’t owe you anything, and the most important thing you can do is get her back on the road to relative safety. And maybe pack some chocolate chip cookies for the road, he nodded with resolve. Are you a man of the law, or not? Now get crackin’…He started shoveling like a man possessed, determined to carve a quick path to Bessie and get you back on the road as soon as possible. No time for love, Pike. It’s the holidays. Get ‘er done.

Now faced with the relative silence of the roaring fire you sat silently in front of the blinking cursor. Blink. Blink. Blink. Blink. Your eyes blinked back the tears that were starting to crowd your vision. WHY was it always so damn hot in here??? You unzipped the top portion of your snow suit, perspiration dotting your chest and sparkly pink lingerie. Something about your relative inability and helplessness had you needlessly lashing out at poor Pike. That lump in your throat tightened exponentially as you attempted to bulldoze through some work emails. Pike was right, you don’t need to do anything on a Sunday. Who were you kidding? Pike was so friendly and unassuming, he reminded you of all your need and loneliness. You paused to consider the warmth radiating from his entire personhood. JEEEESUS it was warm, you aggressively pulled your arms out of the snow suit, bunching it at your waist and wiping a film of sweat from your brow. If you didn’t learn how to bite your tongue you were gonna end up completely alone for the rest of your life. The tears started running down your face indiscriminately as you looked over at James Caan, chewing out Buddy the Elf for his holiday enthusiasm. You could really use that hot chocolate right now…IF IT WASN’T SO DAMN HOT!!! You blew a strand of hair out of your face as the front door flung open, a blast of cold air rippling through the cabin refreshingly.

Jumping to your feet with resolve you just managed to shout, “I’M SORRY!”…before the snow suit slipped to the floor around your ankles.

Pike stood poised with your luggage in one hand and snow shovel in the other before it clattered loudly to the floor. He gulped loudly, unsure of where he should be looking, as the corners of his mouth twitched upward in delight.

You pursed your lips comedically, unwilling to lose any ground at this point, and authoritatively placed your hands on your hips. And why not? You work out. Half the population has boobs, and the other half wants them, so there’s nothing new under the sun. You giggled a bit attempting to proceed, “I would like to apologize!”

“You would????” Pike bellowed, dropping your luggage next, nearly tripping over it as he slammed the door shut.

“Yes I would!” you shouted back, now covering your mid-drift section and shivering ever so slightly. “I’m sorry I’m being ridiculous…” you tried to subtly slide downward pulling the snow suit back up around you. “It’s been a long time since I’ve…felt…feelings” you meandered forward, unsure of how to articulate your own confusion. “I’m just used to being alone, and fixing things on my own and…I apologize” you reiterated, zipping the snow suit back up and vowing to change into normal clothes ASAP.

Pike sighed with relief, nodding his head in acknowledgement. “There’s nothing to apologize for” he sighed. “I always come on too strong with people I like” he paused abruptly, waiting on your response. “And…I do like the color pink” he chuckled, unzipping his winter coat and kicking off the powdery lumps of snow from his boots.

“I would like to make it up to you” you pondered, as Pike froze with curiosity.

“How?” he whispered, immediately tightening his lips with restraint. “I mean, what exactly did you have in mind?”

Having both changed into a more cozy pair of pajamas you emerged from the kitchen, now wearing the aforementioned apron and balancing two plates of pasta in your outstretched arms. “Do we dare open another bottle of Merlot?” you teased, rounding the corner and gesturing to the coffee table in front of you. “Elf” had restarted for the AMC marathon and Pike grinned expectantly at the culinary offering.

“I’m game if you are” he rose to take the plates from your grasp as you returned to the kitchen to locate a new bottle and two wine glasses. You pushed the memory of your earlier dream to the side, content with the new friendship you had forged with your unlikely hero. Bessie was still anchored firmly in the tundra, as a new wave of snow lightly feathered down on the cozy cottage. It was going to be at least 48 hours or more until you could attempt another winter escape. But currently, that didn’t seem quite as oppressive as it once did, a loud pop resounding from the kitchen as you uncorked the Merlot pouring its heady aroma into the wine glasses before you. You padded into the living room, noting your matching gray sweatpants. Pike beamed with anticipation as you sat across from him, offering a glass of congratulations.

“Thanks for bringing in my luggage, I really don’t know what I would have done without your assistance” you toasted him with celebration, enjoying the light clink of your glasses touching rims.

“It was my pleasure” Pike returned, drawing the glass up to his mouth, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“I don’t think I’m the best cook, so it’s lucky your last Instacart order arrived when it did. I think we might be stuck here for the indefinite future” you worried, however secretly enthusiastic at the turn of events.

“This could be the beginning of a beautiful friendship” he surmised, licking his lips pointedly and clinking glasses once again.

Happy holidays, you smirked, as the wind blustered outside. Happy holidays, indeed.

*thanks @unknown-till for the cool dividers

Moody Dio

OMG I haven't even seen this episode. This is what it looks like when you are avoiding your tax preparation, but I don't even care. Look how cute our goth criminal is! I want to squish him...

Moody Maxwell

Psh, I'm doing the exact opposite of what I said I was gonna do, but whatever. I wanna re-watch this movie that got derailed with the Covid in 2020. Love the actors, love the director, like the premise and the script. Something felt a bit off, but never our Pedrito! Honestly...anything I didn't love...I blame The Covid.

A Very Special Episode of PB and J

And now for a very special episode of PB and J. This one is drastically self-indulgent, though I feel there are some things Pedge and I can say to the fandom that might help. 

Sexy Disclaimer: Pedge is not a registered therapist, however therapeutic he might be. We are going to be talking about some challenging topics like SH, ideation, orientation, violence and shame…

Pedge and I have been talking a lot about shame and allowance lately, haven’t we Pedge? I know, it’s hard to sit with uncomfortable emotions no matter how many chocolate chip cookies we have. It’s easy to feel broken or like there’s something wrong with you. Hmmm? I mean, it’s only 11:30am but…yes we can have some for breakfast.

This first writing year on Tumblr I’ve learned A LOT. I spent a full year reading ALL KINDS of fics and some of them had me feeling all sorts of things! I read fluff, I read violence, I read about threesomes, I read about orientation, I read about SH, ideation, dead dove…

Sorry, Pedge has his fingers in his ears and is singing “Purple Rain” right now, just in case. Maybe I should whisper a little…I’m just gonna give a little reminder that trigger warnings are there for a reason. You just protect yourself like Pedge does, and if you don’t like something, block it! I saw some scary pics last night I just blocked that ish straight away, no thank you! 

But sometimes I have a tendency to “block” myself, and that’s something my REAL therapist and I have been working on. What? No Pedge, I’m sorry the time that we spend together is very therapeutic, but it’s also important to speak with a professional. No, she doesn’t make chocolate chip cookies the way you do, and yes I would like some Almond Milk.

Anyways, sometimes I feel silly or embarrassed or guilty about the things that I like. Do you ever feel that way? I worry that a playful cartoon like Pedge might appear childish or misrepresent some of the adult topics we address. I’ve started describing myself as a sexy ace, but that label doesn’t really fit. Pedge is running to get his Pride Flag from June, thank you for the support, P. I love fics that explore orientation and different types of love. Yes, Pedge I LOVED the work you did in “A Strange Way of Life”. I mean…that was hawt, and I’m not just talking about the oven right now.

I like unpacking fics that involve violence. I’m not 100% why, but I feel safe within myself to explore those feelings, particularly in a fictional environment and not a real one. Yes Pedge, I DID watch TLOU and that hospital scene was VERY believable. No, I don’t know if Laurence Olivier liked chocolate chip cookies, but I’m sure he would have liked you. This October we’re going to explore some Halloween fics with some of your SUPER scary characters like Dave York and Max Phillips. Pedge, you know I can still see you even when you’re hiding underneath the covers, right? Okay, you just let me know if we overstimulate ourselves, okay? Maybe we’ll read those during the daytime…

Pedge, did you know sometimes I even feel embarrassed about writing? (Ahem) alright, you don’t have to laugh about it, silly goose. I often refer to you as Pedge or P, because you’re an avatar. No, not the movie. Yes, I know it’s a classic. An avatar is an icon or figure that represents a REAL figure like Pedro Pascal.

Oh honey, I’m sorry, no you are VERY real. How could you eat so many cookies if you weren’t real? Oh cuddle bug…okay you just nestle up in here for a hug, I’m sorry I made you cry. All I mean to say is that thoughts and feelings and desires are VERY real, and sometimes giving them a name or an image can help us sort through the complicated parts of ourselves! And it can mean whatever we want. It doesn’t mean we’re delusional, or violent or bad, it just means that we’re human. And humans use art to understand themselves and life.

Yes, and cookies. We also enjoy cookies and movies and museums and pleasure and all kinds of things that don’t need an explanation, they just get to be enjoyed, much like the fandom.

Sigh. No we’re not broken, we’re just human. Well, some of us are human and some of us are avatars, but we both need Love. And cookies. They’re ready? Okay good, this existential and literary crisis has made me very hungry. When in doubt, try to remember that feelings and thoughts are neutral, it’s what you DO with those emotions that defines their meaning and external impact.

In closing, Pedge and I just want you to know how much we like you. You’re good. You’re not bad. Okay, you’re not PERFECT. You’re just you, and we like that. Keep doing your best! Keep exploring, keep learning, keep growing, keep wanting! And if there are some emotions that feel too big even for cookies to handle, think about getting your own therapist, like me! Pedge is currently occupied, so you’ll have to get your own. Mostly, just be good to yourself and be good to others. And remember that sometimes a cookie is just a cookie. Yes, Pedge, you’ve done an extraordinary job with this batch, I must say. Yes Pedge. I love you too.

*thanks @thecutestgrotto for the dividers!

WIP Poll

I've already finished the third episode of the Roll-a-Trope challenge scheduled for September 22nd! I have some fun October WIPs. The people have spoken and I joined the Trope-Off 2024!

Moody Met

I think we need to revisit this look. To be clear, I'm down with EVERY look I've seen thus far. I even miss the Laker Shirts. But joining the fandom so comparatively late, I didn't realize how lucky we were at the time. Now I've gotta go months at a time with no walks of fashion? Thank God for Tumblr...The paparazzi can leave him alone, unless he's on the runway, and my imagination will do the rest...

Pedro Fandom Bingo Finale

I love these kinds of activities! Here's the last update, it's been a great year of Tumblr 💖 I have a separate reblog account so check out @pedrotease for all the deets! And thanks to @burntheedges for the fun prompt! Finale Bingo, thanks to the writers for all you do!

Dave York No One Has to Know What We Do @guiltyasdave Down Bad @schnarfer The Roomate Agreement @auteurdelabre Melt @sizzlingcloudmentality Dieter Sweet Dee @yopossum Devotion, Self Care w/ Dieter + Jett @morallyinept My Darling Muse Mr. Ben Visiting @ladamedusoif Ternion @exquisiteserotonin Joel Miller All Good Things @criticallyacclaimedstranger Oberyn Unshelled @inept-the-magnificent He Will Slay You With His Tongue @iamasaddie Hurt/Comfort Trope (Joel Edition) Somewhere to Run, I Know Who You Are @punkshort Nothing Hits Quite Like That First Kiss @backtothefanfiction Javier Pena Kinktober 2024 @flightlessangelwings Afterglow Marcus Pike Is It Real? @f0rever15elf Pike's Place Pero Tovar Drabble #4 @toomanystoriessolittletime General Acacius Soak @juletheghoul Din Shower Sex @pedropascallme Javi Gutierrez Slow @morallyinept Phoenix Rising Agent Whiskey Glorification @morallyinept How Much Does Devotion Weight? @anabdaniels Marcus Moreno Thanksgiving Delights Cock Warming @flightlessangelwings Frankie Morales You're My Stranger in the Dark @lady-of-glass-and-bone Moody Frankie New Pedro Character Little Dove @palioom Unmasked Tim Rockford The Detective and the Agent @604to647 Husband Material Max Phillips Blood Sucking Witch Ezra One Stop Shop @morallyinept

Afterglow Series Workplace Benefits

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

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

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

Series Masterlist

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You loved your job.

*thanks @samspenandsword for the dividers!

Moody Oberyn

No doubt in my mind whatsoever that Oberyn is A MOOD. I've seen all the excerpts, but I can't bring myself to watch the entire arc. This man is too hawt to handle and I can only lose Pedro Pascal so many times...

Also, this is the moment I'm encouraging Pedge to purchase that golden robe, apparently up for auction. Nobody should be wearing it but him...and me....

Pike's Place The Holiday

A huge thank you to @burntheedges for a fun Roll-a-Trope Challenge that has turned into a slow burn, snowed in Winter Series. I have @inept-the-magnificent to thank for all their encouragements and outline rec's!

Triggers: Tipsy Pike (cutest ever), slight profanity, sexy thoughts, accidental lingerie (?), discussions of ex, stranded car trouble, discussion of pandemic...

Series Masterlist

You stood, poised with crowbar and cell phone in hand, watching the adorable, pink-cheeked man in front of you swaying ever so slightly. “How can I help you?’ his voice comedically cracked at the end, as the tv meandered on with Jimmy Stewart’s countenance flickering before you. Still shivering slightly from the cold your explanation cascaded forth, somewhat unhinged, 

“ImeansincethepandemicIcanttellifImcomingorgoing.Itsbeenalongroadmethaphoricallyliterallysexuallyspiritually.OfcoursenotallwhowanderarelostbutthisgalisasIcantfindmyAirbnb.BessiekonkedoutonthesideoftheroadcouldIuseyourlandline?”

You stood huffing slightly from the minimal hike, atmospheric cold and rambling monologue, which seemed to have no affect on your clueless cabin mate. He stood irresolute except for a slight waver that betrayed his intoxicated state. Feeling more awkward by the second you glanced around the room for any sign of life, noticing a small lanyard by the door that stated, “Agent Pike; Art Squad”, featuring a clean shaven version of the business lumberjack in front of you. If this man was a threat, he was certainly masking it well. You were the one holding a crowbar and crashing his tipsy Christmas extravaganza. A pang of guilt flashed through you as you realized the silence was stretching into an eternity. Agent Pike might be cutting quite the cozy figure, but you were starting to feel like Winter Barbie in your pink snow suit, complete with crow bar and cell phone props. All you needed was the Pink Corvette and you could leave this sweet man alone for the holidays…

Pike blinked confusedly as his eyes focused in and out on the vision in front of him. Was he hallucinating? One minute he had been enjoying a bottle of red, and commiserating with Jimmy Stewart. The next second a pink snow bunny had materialized on his snow-bidden doorstep and was propositioning him with a crowbar and cell phone. Merry Christmas? He swallowed dryly, pink cotton candy between his ears, static in his vision. This must be a mistake, have I finally summoned love itself, he wondered? Was he saying anything? Am I saying anything? Time seemed to be moving in liquid droplets, or lightly falling snow. He was cold. He was hot. He was confused. He was drunk? Why was he wearing a suit jacket? The pink vision was talking to him in lilting tones, but he couldn’t concentrate, focusing on her sparkly eyes and curving body. Clearing his throat, he decided to reboot.

“How can I help you?” he repeated dumbly, attempting to stifle a small unbidden hiccup. Pike stumbled slightly, chuckling to himself…

You lurched forward in a pink swirl of energy, attempting to grab his hand and finding it impossible with a crow bar and cell phone. “Whoa, steady there, Agent! You okay?”

His eyelids were now half closed as he grinned dopily, “Sorry, I feel like I might bump into you. Guess that red rrreally packed a punch…” he swung loosely, poking you in the ribs eliciting a small shiver of surprise. You set the crowbar down on the nearby table and pocketed your cell phone. 

“I’m sorry, I’m totally disrupting your holiday celebration…with your family?…” you ventured a curiosity, catching another glance at his comfy gray sweatpants and wondering what lay beneath. Swatting the thought away, you held him by the wrists lightly as he swayed like a dandelion in the wind, attempting to catch sight of a…non-existent ring.

“Just me” he grinned, though it bordered on a whimper that caught in his throat, as his forehead scrunched in concern. “All alone on the holidays…” he trailed off, nearly to himself.

Oh my gawd. Did I just fall in love? Your eyebrows shot up to your forehead in surprise, looking over at the dwindling fire and near finished bottle of red. Gosh, maybe you weren’t the only one feeling lonely this holiday season. After the pandemic it seemed as though the world had moved on without you, but maybe there were some others feeling a little left behind. You pouted sympathetically, wondering if you had found a kindred spirit.

“Come on, let’s get you situated here…” you easily led him to the couch as he collapsed unceremoniously in a heap, sighing heavily. Of course, it might have been bravado on your part, but this guy did seem to be a security agent of some kind, and he certainly wasn’t a pressing danger in this state. You looked over at his forlorn grin as he rubbed his socked feet together like a cricket. Heaving a sigh of relief, you plopped down on the couch next to him, trying to figure out your next steps. You looked around the small cabin. Nobody had a landline anymore, and even if they did, who was gonna be able to reach you at this time of night, in a snow storm? 

“You’re stuck!” he exclaimed, pointing a finger as though divining the truth you had uttered mere seconds ago. You smiled broadly, feeling yourself melt into the couch. This was going to be a problem.

“Yes, Detective, that is correct” you grinned, looking around the room for one final scavenging hunt before giving up completely. “My car isn’t moving another foot and apparently neither am I”.

He nodded appraisingly as though clairvoyant, “I thought asz much” he slurred slightly, trying to gather his bearings, and sitting up a bit to focus. “I’m not a detective, but I notice stuff” he kept nodding and gave you a little wink. You pursed your lips together in amusement. I mean, you WERE crashing his solo holiday celebration, but damned if you weren’t already smitten with Agent Pike.

“I mean, I don’t notice EV-E-R-Y-THING” he emphasized every syllable dramatically, not attempting to stifle the next hiccup. “My girlfriend (hiccup)…”

Your stomach lurched forward, unsure where his sentence was headed…

“…left me for another guy”.

You tried to hide your guilty enthusiasm with a sympathetic pout.

“S’okay” he waved his hands in front of him, nearly knocking over the wine bottle in the process. “I moved waaaaaay too fasst. But no more. Nope. Not for me (hiccup). I’mma just go it alooooone…” he trailed off, blinking rapidly. “Drinkss?” he gestured broadly, nearly knocking over the wine bottle again, which he punctuated with a hiccup. “S-sorry I stoods up a little fast. Too fast…” he trailed off again pouring the remaining dregs into his glass.

You sniffled with emotion or congestion watching this puppy dog of a man unravel in front of you. “Why can’t I find somebody like you?” you whispered, eyes widening to the shape of saucers, chagrined that your inner monologue had somehow materialized outward.

“What?” he hiccuped, offering you the now empty wine bottle. You took it from his hands gently. “Okay, last round Agent Pike” you smirked, wondering at this enigmatic turn of events. Transparently you marveled at your miraculously good fortune, but at what cost? You found yourself snowed in, with a teddy bear of a guy, who was apparently nursing a broken heart, and yours had yet to start beating again. You twiddled your thumbs nervously, wary to share too much information. But drawn magnetically forward by his warm gaze, you decided to hazard the harsh truth. He won’t even remember this conversation tomorrow anyways, you rationalized.

Pike was squinting hard to try to cement every detail into his memory. If this was how he met his wife, he wanted to remember the moment it happened. That was stupid. She’d have to be his fiancé first. He shook his head slightly attempting to clear it of cobwebs. Why can’t you be a normal human and just start with a date, you imbecile. That’s ridiculous, you can’t go on a date out in the wilderness. She might not even be single. I wonder how many children she wants, the thoughts floated through his mind unrequested. Listen to what she’s saying you idiot, he chastised himself. You’re an officer of the law, Pike, get it together. He tried to sip his wine introspectively, quickly becoming aware that was intensifying his intoxication. Whatever you do, just take it slow, Pike. Don’t rush in like last time. The last thing women want is someone moving too fast and making assumptions that aren’t real. This gal finds herself in a tight pinch, and all you’re going to do is make sure she gets home in one piece. He found himself staring at your lips as they moved fluidly, wondering how they might feel….Hot damn, shut up, Pike! You’re already muddled enough, just keep your thoughts to yourself and don’t say anything stupid. She’s pretty. He shifted with slight discomfort noticing the tell-tale pinching feeling between his legs. For that matter, just don’t do or say anything at all. Robot. You’re a robot. You don’t think, you don’t feel anything.

“It’s nice to talk to a real human” you began, unsure of how much to share and what to omit. “I’ve been working from home a lot, and sometimes it seems like the world just keeps getting smaller and smaller”.

He nodded his head imploringly, holding the wine glass between his lips like a sippy cup. You almost couldn’t help yourself. There was something about this man that probably charmed everyone to his gentle personality, but you didn’t care. It had been so long since you had anyone listen to you, particularly someone in gray sweatpants. You found yourself melting like a snow…woman into the couch, assured that he somehow understood what you were talking about. Just two people. Lamenting the lamentable. Sobbing into their Christmas cookies. The holidays SUCK. Donna Reed caught your eye as she ran the down the street from Jimmy Stewart’s passionate advances. You rolled your eyes in annoyance, still hoping they ended up together. Horror upon horror, “Mary Hatch” was a librarian and a SPINSTER! Sigh. If she had lived during the 21st century things you probably would have been buddies. But alas, she was in the 1940’s and you were in the 20 somethings. She was a fictional character and you were as real as it gets. She was wearing a snood. And you were in a pink snow suit.

He sloppily reached out to grab your knee. “I know!” he nearly shouted, nodding like a bobble head.

You giggled slightly, mostly to keep from crying, but you felt the emotion bubble up within you nonetheless. You hadn’t even voiced the hurt to yourself, so speaking it into existence was a bit harder than you anticipated. The fire crackled in the hearth warmly, adding a softness to the moment that floated hazily in the room. You began to notice how hot everything had become, staring into his eyes as they drifted lazily in and out of focus.

“I haven’t even….dated anyone since the pandemic…” your voice nearly disappeared, shocked you were sharing this information with a man you had suspected of being a serial killer but 20 minutes earlier.

“Oh nooo” he lamented, tipping his head sideways on to the couch and turning his body towards you. “Well, you’re not missing anyone… No, that’s not right (hiccup). I’m sorry. Men are dumb” he paused, suddenly befuddled in his buzzing state that he had said too much. “Or women? Women are dumb!” he cringed, trying to blearily ascertain the situation, now growing concerned that he had misread the signs AND insulted you.

You grinned again, appreciative of his awareness even in an intoxicated state. “Yes, well women can be stupid too, but boyfriends take the cake” you huffed. Taking special notice of the amber flecks in the pooling brown of his eyes, you tilted your head to meet his. “At some point, it really does seem easier to just go it alone”. Damn, why was it so hot in here? Peri-menopause ought to be a few years off for Christ’s sake. You looked over at the crackling fire.

“I guess it’s my own fault” you slid the zipper of your snow suit down, dabbing at the perspiration on your neck and overheating in more ways than one. “Somehow I just became more and more isolated as time progressed” your lower lip wobbled unexpectedly, surprising even you. “I wish I could be more relaxed. More forward. Much like Bessie the Hyundai, I have a tendency to move as slow as molasses”. You looked over at his doe like countenance, as he had apparently drained the final dregs of his wine glass and was looking pointedly at your chest. He gulped dryly, raising his eyes to meet yours.

Oops. You glanced down at your unzipped snow suit, suddenly remembering there wasn’t much beneath. A sparkly pink bra and matching underwear had most assuredly caught his attention, but had slipped yours. Coughing slightly, you slid the zipper back up just enough to showcase your burgeoning cleavage. His brain seemed to have short circuited as you winced with embarrassment. 

Marry me, he thought. Shut up, Pike! Did you not learn your lesson in Sacramento? This isn’t some cinematic, sappy movie that you’re watching on AMC! You’re an agent for God’s sakes! Man of the law. He licked his lips dryly wondering who had drunk all of the wine. I’m just a hopeless romantic, emphasis on the hopeless part, he drolled to himself. Just a lone wolf. I wonder what her lips taste like. Shhh! Lonely wolf. Awwwooooo! He stifled a wine-fiiled giggle..

About three things you were absolutely positive. Number one, Agent Pike was the most adorable non-serial killer you had ever met. Second, there was a part of him, and you didn’t know how potent that part might be, was ogling your…snow suit. And third…you seemed to have no problem with it whatsoever.

“I think you’re a hero” he hiccuped, holding his now empty wine glass up in a toast. His eyes were twinkling as a stray lock of hair dangled in front of his chocolate colored eyes. Puffing his cheeks to blow the strand away, you mercifully reached up to draw it back into place.

“I’m a hero, Agent Pike?” 

“Yeaaaaah” he drawled, then sitting up suddenly in a burst of focused energy. “You must be the heroine of your own story!” he looked like he was about to stand up and deliver a speech, so you positioned both hands on his quads to calm the situation.

“Okayeeee Pike. I think if it’s okay with you I can bunk here for the evening, and come morning I can call Triple A and see about getting a tow. Does that sound okay to you Agent?” you gazed at him curiously as he swayed slightly, still grinning.

“There’s hot chocolate” he offered, somewhat randomly, but helpful nonetheless. “You can call me Mr. Pike if you want (hiccup). I mean Mr. Marcus…M-M-arcus…” he mumbled adorably.

“Thank you for the hot chocolate, Mr. Marcus” you offered sweetly, noticing that your hands were still cemented to his broad thighs. You wiggled your fingers slightly, in a near out of body experience, as he remained intoxicatingly unawares.

“We can finish the movie!” he exclaimed. “I’ll take the couch!” he hiccuped, lying back with contentment as you took the wine glass out of his hand gently. “I wanna hear it!” he chanted “I’m the hero of my own story!!!” he repeated, grabbing the remote to unmute the tv and then closing his eyes serenely.

“You’re the hero of my story” you absentmindedly repeated, noticing the next movie “The Holiday” had started twinkling before you. You gazed at the small staircase leading up to a possible bedroom for the night. This certainly was not the way you had anticipated your adventure starting, but perhaps Agent Pike was going to be the Christmas gift you never expected, but always deserved. All that remained was to see if you could let yourself receive it, before the Christmas Miracle evaporated. The familiar opening melody of “The Holiday” began as you looked over to notice small snuffles and light snores drift from Pike’s plush lips, made pink in the flickering fire-light. Art Squad indeed, you marveled, finally able to get a glance at his aquiline nose and gentle profile. Your eyes drifted over his broad chest, soft stomach and cozy gray sweat pants. Holding your hands firmly in your lap, you drew yourself up to grab the nearest chunky blanket and tuck him in. Taking an indulgent moment to lightly draw your fingertips over his frame, you thought you caught the lightest whisper of, “Love you, honey” before he slipped back into a wine-soaked slumber. 

Oh my, this WAS going to be a problem, you smiled, shutting off the tv, and padding up the stairs to find your bedding for the evening.

Merry Christmas to us all, and to all a good night…

*thanks @samspenandsword for the dividers!

Overprotective Mom

Ha! This was not on my WIP list until I saw @morallyinept's character studies and realized how fun it would be to Mood Board some of the smaller characters Pedge has played over the years, whether they get a fic or not. Lol...Who knows, I'm steadily falling in love with ALL of them...She's really doing something for me right now...

Moody Moreno + WIP Poll

We are finishing up Pedro's Holiday Feast and I was curious about a Marcus Moreno long term marriage exploration of praise kink. Thanksgiving at its BEST. Looks like I'm not the only one in need of some Thanksgiving Delights...

Hallo-Weenie Pedge

I think y'all were inspired by this SAG Awards classic look and voted for Pirate Pedge! Pedge and I managed to write a quick limerick for anyone feeling saucy. I hope your Halloween yields excellent booty. Aarrrrrrgh!

Triggers: smut abounds plentifully...

*thank you @saradika-graphics for the cool dividers!

There once was a Pirate named Pedge Who fancied your fancy to edge He traveled the seas His head twixt your knees Your treasure trove he’d give a stretch. On Sundays you’d walk his hard plank Your tooshie he’d give a quick spank He’d shout, “‘Vast there mate!” Your lips penetrate Or watch as you had a quick wank Pirate Pedge never is snooty His hours he’ll spend seeking booty While walking the deck Your pussy he’ll wreck Considering it true beauty’s duty His sword is beyond earthly measure When plowing canals for their treasure When seeking medallions He’s one sexy stallion And always cums after YOUR pleasure On Mondays when feeling quite bold You like a quick tease and a scold He’s captain to you You like playing “crew” And always do just what you’re told. While searching your map for the “X” He’ll spot the right spot during sex Like coins for your slot He’ll leave you besot And edge you till happily vexed Discarding his fancy eye patch His lips to your lips he will latch The seas are quite violent But you are quite pliant And love when that itch will get scratched So here’s to a holiday haul And hoping we all have a ball Whether treating or tricking Licking or flicking A Happy Halloween for ALL!

Pedro Boys

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

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

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