Pedro Pascal Fan Fic - Blog Posts

Pedge Tweets Afterglow

I love the throw down as much as the next gal, but I love the "Afterglow" even more. Excited to attempt this sexy time experimentation, writing for some of the Pedro Boys with variety in shorter snippets. Wanted a therapeutic outlet for our great and not so great "O"'s. Mostly self-indulgent intimacy writing, though Pedge is VERY excited...

Series Masterlist

*art by Vivek Gupta + Klimt

Pedge's Bookshop Series Masterlist

Foyer: There are already so many great AU fics featuring all our favorite Pedro Boys and I'd like to showcase them! In the Coffee Shop Foyer you'll find some great rec's for coffee and books alike. Bring your library card--this if one of my favorite tropes!

Bookshop: We started this series with Joel as our bookshop owner. Reading several of Pedro Pascal's book recommendations, the bookshop continues to get more material; join in on the fun!

Crime and Punishment (with Joel Miller)

Crime and Punishment; Prologue Crime and Punishment; The Murder Crime and Punishment; The Family Crime and Punishment; The Argument Crime and Punishment; The Lecture Crime and Punishment; The Visitor Crime and Punishment; The Dinner Crime and Punishment; The Calm Crime and Punishments; Before Crime and Punishment; The Storm Crime and Punishment; The Patrol Crime and Punishment; The Wound Crime and Punishment; The Confession Crime and Punishment; The Epilogue

Novellas:

Crime and Punishment Fic-Let Crime and Punishment; The Dream Crime and Punishment; The Talk Bookstore IG

What Happened to Belen? (with Javier Pena)

Part One Part Two

In Cold Blood (with Tim Rockford)

In Cold Blood: The Exposition In Cold Blood; The Road Trip In Cold Blood; The Funeral

WIP Book Nook: There are so many amazing rec's from Pedro that I'd love to unpack! Here are some possibilities on the horizon. What fics do you want to see?

The Urge; Our History of Addiction w/ Dieter Bravo Franny and Zooey w/ Mr. Ben The Gender of Sound w/ Pedge Drive Your Plow...w/ Tim Rockford

Audible Original; The Reservoir

Ghost Radio

Unmasked A Christmas Prompt

*featuring @shuploc @southparkpedro @thethunderstormsgirl @immarocketman

Thanks to @beefrobeefcal for the fun Christmas Prompt; What Could Go Wrong? I was initially hesitant to write my first Din fic, until I pressed into my teenage Star Wars obsession. I also had planned on a wacky, galactic romp but it turned into a soft exploration of the asexuality spectrum and religious denominations? Giving you the Christmas content NOBODY asked for. At the very least, it's my pleasure to feature the amazing artists above, particularly as it relates to the fic itself. I hope you enjoy, and if not, take some fruitcake for the road!

Triggers: Star Wars canon (don't come for me, I blurred the lines a bit), M masturbation, discussion of religious concepts, naked-ness, bounty hunter stuff, fantasy smut...pretty innocuous and sweet...

Din lumbered up the ramp of the Razor Crest, immediately sealing the outer bolts to prevent entry by anyone else. Depositing his jet pack in the corner he engaged the outer shield, covering the ports and windows appropriately before ensuring he was alone. Heaving a heavy sigh of exhaustion he began to peel off the bulky gloves and armor, before hesitantly removing his mask and unceremoniously collapsing onto the metallic floor. He allowed himself a small tantrum, hefting the mask across the room, a dull clanking sound echoing off the walls, yet feeling immediately chagrined at his show of insolence. There was just one question that remained; what MORE could have possibly gone wrong?

He felt lucky that Grogu was off pursuing his training in the outer reaches with Skywalker and Ahsoka. Rubbing the back of his neck tiredly he wrinkled his brow in consternation. He was constantly worried, but hopeful that the youngling was finding a place and a purpose that suited his unique talents. Din had to admit his life had been forever changed with the introduction of this small wonder, and he could only wish their paths would cross in the future for a hopeful reunion.

Din closed his eyes, resting his head against the hull, feeling the mechanical, humming heartbeat of the ship. With trepidation he finally gazed over at the heavy mask looking back at him from the shadowed corner. The small strip of permeable material that allowed for vision had all but shattered and buckled under the force of the explosion, forcing his immediate return to the Razor Crest. One of the few components of his all but impermeable Beskar Armor was now beyond repair, leaving him somewhat stranded until he could garner the necessary replacement parts. He kicked his foot sulkily, annoyed that his quarry had escaped capture and that he found himself somewhat stranded in his otherwise preferred solitary status. Normally, that would have amounted to an inconvenience at best if it weren’t for….you.

You both had planned an impromptu meeting in the next few days to celebrate Life Day on Kashyyyk. It was a time of song, drink, gifting and rejoicing, and Din had nearly admitted to himself the truth; he was excited. Living life in this solitary manner had always suited him until…it didn’t. Mandalorian culture was steeped in its own tradition and folklore, but with the dissolution of their home world, connection had become such an insular and rarified commodity, Din had all but given up hope. Grogu had changed all that, and much like his current armor, Din found small cracks of affection and friendship beginning to melt the stolid steel of his lonely solitude. He never felt it more poignantly than when he spent time with you.

Yours was initially a friendship of convenience, facilitated by trade routes, parts and labor, precious resources, consumerism….and similarity. Another Mandarlorian. There were so few left. But that’s where the similarities ended. Din could never forget the day you had completed a run to the spaceport on Tatooine for necessary maintenance. Grogu was eager to visit Peli Motto and kept steering the ship in that direction until Din acquiesced. Leaving Grogu in Motto’s care you had returned with Din to the Razor Crest to discuss bounty requests and supply inquiries when you nonchalantly removed your helmet to admire the impressive display panel.

Din’s breath hitched in his throat quietly as you hugged your own mask to the side, reaching for the controls in admiration. He nearly closed his eyes in supplication before he realized you were unabashedly chattering away. Who was this Mandalorian and why were they unapologetically disavowing themselves from the oath in his presence? As though telepathically linked you chuckled wryly under your breath, blushing slightly at Din’s silence.

“I’m sorry, would you prefer I remain masked in your presence?” you inquired, tucking a stray hair behind your ear adorably.

“You do not observe The Way?” Din’s mechanized voice cut through the intensity, perplexed at your show of vulnerability.

“I belong to a smaller, outer sect of Mandalorians who have embraced their independence and honor the Way by other means” you smirked, grasping Din’s wrist lightly and moving back into the main cabin, leaving him relatively speechless. As a Child of the Watch, Din was well aware of the more extremist philosophies of his upbringing, but found himself immediately intrigued by your seeming contradictions. 

From that moment on, your friendship had only intensified, as Din even began to seek out your recommendations and eventual comradry. He had a tremendous amount of respect for your acumen and was completely enraptured with the dichotomy of your personhood. Armored and war-worthy one moment, soft and friendly the next. Spending time together on long hunts, or chatting around the camp fire, Din couldn’t help but steal forbidden glances behind the safety of his own mask. The light wisps of hair tickling your cheeks, the knowing crinkle in your eyes. Moments when you would reach up to massage a sore muscle, and Din found himself longing to aid your ministrations. What would it be like to touch you, he wondered. Or…to be touched?

Din shifted with discomfort against the hardened floor feeling his body react to the fleeting fantasy of your supple and pliable form beneath him. Atop him. Beside him. Stroking his face. The feather light touch of your fingertips ghosting over his chest, his lips, his…He heaved a sigh of frustration, clamoring to his feet in helplessness. He could put in a request to Tattoine to send a messenger with a replacement part, but how would he explain this holiday absence to you?

He trudged toward the sonic shower, happily peeling off the under layers of his armor and folding them neatly at his bedside. A rare opportunity to exist freely in the cocoon of the Razor Crest, Din took quick inventory of his accumulated scars, newly formed wrinkles and salty lines of grimy dirt before stepping into the soothing pulse of the shower. Breathing deeply, he activated the water function, as a fine mist of fragranced heat emanated from the shower head. Dank farrik. He shuffled his feet with annoyance, realizing the compounded problem of the moment; no holiday gift. Rubbing his face with chagrin he thought on the clandestine fantasy of the two of you wandering the street market, listening to children laugh and watching the Black Spire entertainers. Perhaps your fingers would accidentally touch as you pointed to a trinket or bauble you liked, which Din would “begrudgingly” purchase on your behalf. His face was already flush with the warm water, but would have blushed more crimson still, realizing how much time he had invested in this now unsurmountable dream.

Perhaps you wouldn’t have worn your armor at all. There might have been a chance, however small, that you would have arrived in a soft, flowy dress of silken fabric, your hair braided into an intricate pattern. Din imagined the dress, clinging to your curving body as his length twitched with anticipation. Stupid mask. He reached up to massage a tired muscle, imagining your smaller, soft hands kneading his skin underneath the now scalding liquid. He hissed with discomfort, reaching down to massage a different part of his body, which now glistened and plumped under the burgeoning heat of his own body. What would you smell like? He was absentmindedly, pumping himself languidly, breathing deeply through his nose. He thought he caught the faintest fragrance of Vormur, but it had been so long since the days of his youth, he couldn’t be sure. Everything was filtered through the armor that supported his existence and simultaneously seemed to stifle it.

Din’s head tilted back against the metallic tile as his body sagged under the weight of his desire. What would you taste like? He licked his lips with seductive thirst, biting down hard on his lower lip. Always so close, yet so far. A tendril of light pulsed at the base of his torso, expanding further and further, wrapping itself around his navel. Closer. Closer. Din was breathing heavily, his mouth slack with pleasure as he imagined more…and more…and more. Closer, closer…until….

A ship alarm pinged annoyingly, as Din’s release seemingly evaporated with the steam of the shower. His eyes flew open in frustration and anxiety, wondering what else could have possibly gone wrong. He grabbed a nearby towel, skin immediately prickling in the cooler temperatures, as he headed down the secluded corridor to his simple living quarters. A red light blared loudly indicating an incoming message, which he quickly answered without thinking.

“What?” Din quipped, immediately clamping his mouth shut as he realized the ambient, non-mechanized undertones of his natural voice. There was a dramatic silence on the other end, until a familiar and lilting voice responded…

“Din?”

Din sighed with relief, swallowing dryly at the recognition of your melodious cadence. “It’s me” he acquiesced, simultaneously thankful and embarrassed at the unintended opportunity to cancel the upcoming plans.

“I almost didn’t recognize your voice without….uh….without the mask!” you teased slightly, curious at the unexpected turn of events.

“This is my voice” Din stalled, looking around the bare components of his living space, and wondering why you weren’t there with him. 

“Sounds nice” you stated matter-a-factly, pausing again as the silence weighed heavily between you.

“How can I help?” Din countered, feeling more exposed than ever, dripping on the alloyed floor and holding the towel tightly against his waist.

“I think that’s MY question” you parried, a minute edge of concern in your tone. “I thought you were bringing in that scum from the Pyke Syndicate, and then somebody at Mos Eisley said there was some kind of explosion?” your words hung in the air with a hint of…what? Care? Curiosity? Affection?

“Don’t think I can handle myself?” Din joked, sinking down on the bed and shuffling his feet like a teenager. He couldn’t remember the last time he had a conversation without the limitations of his armor obstructing the connection.

“I can barely handle you” your ebullient voice bubbled over the intercom as Din smiled with acknowledgement. Wouldn’t he like to give you permission to try.

“Still in one piece, but it turns out my mask, is not…” Din began haltingly, loathe to relinquish his holiday dreams of celebration.

“But you’re okay?” you interrupted. “You take too many risks, you know” your voice began to lull Din into a tentative submission as he laid down on the bed and closed his eyes.

“Hmph…” Din huffed, feigning annoyance, but inwardly recognizing the apparent truth. His entire existence was a risky one, so what was so difficult about revealing himself to another person? “I’ll survive. It just means…we can’t…”…he couldn’t even bring himself to utter the deplorable words.

“You’re cancelling on me?!” you whined “I’ve been planning this for a month! I gave up that quarry from the Kessel Mines JUST so we could go to the Day of Life!”. There was a tone of mocking in your voice, but it couldn’t immediately hide the thread of disappointment, causing Din to wince with displeasure. “You know, your mask isn’t actually required for the celebration” you chastised with a slight pout.

“Listen, if I could…I would” Din countered, sincerity lacing his voice. “I…it would have been fun…” he finally admitted.

“Couldn’t we just get you a celebration veil and call it a day?” you laughed, imagining the stark contrast of Din’s stolid armor juxtaposed with a malla mask. “Maybe you could go as a Storm Trooper?”.

“Are you THAT determined to avoid my ugly mug?” Din joked, beads of water dripping down his bare legs onto the hull floor.

“I’ll bet you’re pretty handsome under all that Bezkar” you retorted, without missing a beat.

Din’s breath stilled, wondering if your supposition were true. He never thought of himself that way. But any moment spent with you, seemed to bolster his self confidence and expand the horizon of possibility. Maybe there was a world where he could let someone in. A world that included you.

“Din?” your voice echoed loudly from the ship’s intercom, as the silence of the room sealed his resolve like a cavernous mausoleum.

He cleared his throat with lamentation, willing his voice to remain steady and undaunted, “I’m…sorry” he apologized, swallowing back his own defeat. The intercom stilled, laden with the immovable weight of limitation. Din paused to assess the light breathing on the other end, shaking his head in dismay and grasping for words.

“Stay put” you reprimanded, ending the call abruptly.

“What?” Din sat bolt upright, checking the connectivity, but the line was already dead. Stay put? He was immediately suspicious of your intentionality, but perhaps that was the end of the argument. A final reprimand he was totally deserving of. Dank farrik. Another holiday alone. Din braced himself for the emotional onslaught and grabbed the nearest bodysuit for his evening’s repose. THIS is the everything else that could have gone wrong.

Skulking into the small kitchen chamber, Din prepared a nutritional ration pack, plopping unceremoniously onto the dingy floor and poking at it unenthusiastically. Some holiday. Setting the food down he subconsciously balked at his profile reflected in the steel surface of the Razor Crest. Handsome, huh? He took an uncharacteristic moment to squint at his features, dragging a finger across the stubbled hair dotting his jutting chin. He shrugged his broad shoulders appraisingly. You don’t even know what I look like…Din lamented the woebegone complaint of his recent existence as a curious thought entered his mind. But what if you did? What if there was a way I could show myself to you, and not betray everything that I believe in? Din pursed his lips with determination. No harm in trying, he reasoned. Grabbing his small, unsavory dinner, he returned to the living quarters, steeling himself across from the reflective surface of the wall. He heaved a sigh of exhaustion, beginning to study his features, reaching for the nearby data pad and writing instrument. Shaking his head with incredulity he settled in for a more acute observance. Was this sacrilige? Mandalorians weren’t supposed to reveal their countenance to members outside of their clan, but was there no personal interpretation of “The Way”? YOU had found your own unique distinction, while maintaining the inner truths of honor, respect, love and so much more. Perhaps he could do the same.

Rifling through his previous data files of sketches, he smiled at his renderings of Grogu, captured quarry, desert flora and fauna. He doubted that drawing was a necessary trait of successful bounty hunters, but had always enjoyed a small, indulgent artistic thread for his own moments of reflection. He just had never intended on drawing his own visage, until now. He paused, anticipating the enthusiasm of your response, contradicted by the recent turn of events. He had to find a way of apology. I way to express his desire for more connection. A way to show you what you truly meant to him. This was the Way. 

Settling in with a newfound focus, he studied his features with determination, ladling one decisive stroke after another, and beginning to admire the distinction in his profile, strong aquiline nose, and world-weary wrinkles. He certainly didn’t consider himself a beauty, by any extent of the imagination, but perhaps he had character. He smiled ruefully, reflecting more-so on the delicate beauty of YOUR face as he hummed quietly and contentedly. The time passed quickly before he finally pulled back to hesitatingly admire his creative work. He was certainly no Sabine Wren, but the self resemblance he’d drawn was striking. At least you would know what he looked like, underneath all that armor. And maybe someday, he could perhaps show you more. He nodded his head with approval. Maybe THIS could serve as the apology you so readily deserved. 

Another ship alarm jolted him out of his reverie, as his eyes shot up to the peripheral indicators, noticing a fast approaching figure outside the hull of the Razor Crest. Din’s body tensed with defensiveness. Had the quarry from the Pyke Syndicate somehow found his location? Running down the corridor hurriedly, Din grabbed a small blaster and poised himself at the entrance leading to the lowered ramp. He held his breath as a decisive, repeated thud sliced through the hum of the ship’s heartbeat.

“I don’t abide trespassers” Din’s voice stabbed the darkness as he punched at the intercom.

A small pause before a familiar voice punctuated the hull, “‘Happy Life Day’ to you too, idiot”.

Din inhaled quickly, whirling around helplessly and looking down at the splintered mask at his feet. You. It was you! You were here. Was he going to let you in?

“Are you going to let me in?” your voice ironically echoed, as Din clumsily dropped the blaster to the side and jammed the mask unceremoniously over his hurried countenance. He took a deep breath before making his final decision. Punching a set of buttons quickly, the whoosh of the entryway opened, revealing your own masked appearance and a nearly unrecognizable plate of….

“Is that Varos Cake?” his voice cracked with surprise, identifying the fruity confection of Mandalore, and immediately salivating at its fragrance.

“I come bearing gifts!” you teased, holding up an unwrapped package of plastiod and jamming it against the flat of Din’s fabric-suited chest. He crumpled inward, embarrassed and unaccustomed to even the indirect touch of human contact. “Room for two?” you asked, breezing past Din’s clandestinely surprised expression and closing the door behind you. Din gulped with shock, looking down at the parts replacement necessary for his splintered vision plate.

“Where did you find this?’ Din held an edge of incredulity in his voice as you sat yourself down on the ONLY chair available in the main corridor, removing your own mask with a flourish. He stifled a gasp EVERY time you unmasked in his presence, but this evening your eyes were shining with a greater mischief and celebration that literally took his breath away.

“Despite evidence to the contrary, I happen to be a Mandalorian as well, nerf-herder. You don’t think I have replacement parts for my own mask?” you drolled, propping your feet up on the nearby table with joviality. “Love the bodysuit, by the way…”

Din placed a hand on his hip, chuckling to himself with acknowledgement. “And the Varos Cake?” he pointed inquisitively at the holiday delicacy.

“SOME of us were prepared for the “Day of Life” celebration” you chided, squinting skeptically at the splintered remains of his visor plate. “Bet you didn’t even get me a gift” you reprimanded, holding out the cake with reproach. 

“I got you a gift” Din shot back, moving forward to take your outstretched hand, and realizing one second too late that his was ungloved. Din hissed with sensitivity, as your fingers brushed in the quick contact. Nearly dropping the cake to the floor you both paused in an awkward silence, holding the plate between you. An electricity hung in the atmosphere as the dull din of the ship hummed around you. It was as though a hypnotic womb of security engulfed the moment, hugging you both and soothing any anxieties.

“Close your eyes” Din lowly intoned, slowly setting the cake down on the table next to you, his mask devastatingly close to your curious expression. You swallowed dryly, mere inches from the mechanized breath of his mask, finally closing your eyes in amenability. Din took a moment to admire the color in your cheeks, and the fluttering beauty of your eyelashes, attempting to take in every detail for his next sketch. He quietly removed his mask with trepidation, finally breathing the night air and enjoying the fragrance of your perfume. Vorum. He sighed heavily with relief, mere inches from your budding lips, and feeling the magnetic pull of your humanity. He tentatively reached up with a feather-light finger poised just above your jawline. Perhaps there WAS a world that included more than just the solo journey.

Several moments passed as you sat silently, awaiting whatever moment was about to transpire, but nothing materialized. With rapt anticipation you finally whispered, “Din?”.

“Open your eyes”.

You hesitantly cocked one eye-lid open, greeted by the repaired visage of Din’s masked countenance, as he held out a data pad for your perusal.

“A data pad?” you quipped “….really you shouldn’t have” you jested, before Din interrupted.

“Look” he slanted his head sideways, imploring you to observe more closely.

“Who’s this handsome demon?” you joked, before inhaling quickly with realization. “Is this you?” you finally whispered, as Din sat achingly close, your shoulders now touching.

“Tis the season?” he offered, nudging his shoulder against your side and awkwardly clasping his hands in front of him. He admired your slender fingers as you dragged them across the data pad idly, the warmth of your bodies heating one another in the winter solstice. You eventually rested your chin on his shoulder, gazing adoringly into the reflective surface of his now repaired mask.

“Thank you for showing this to me” you softly stated, tilting your head against his and breathing quietly.

“Maybe someday I can show you more” Din finally uttered, feeling a sense of relief and affection wash over him contentedly.

You paused, a smile curling the corners of your delicate mouth, “I’d like that, Din” you promised. “Happy Life Day…”

“Happy Life Day, cyare” Din sighed with enjoyment. Happy Life Day, indeed. 

Maybe not EVERYTHING had gone wrong…

*thanks @thecutestgrotto for the cool dividers!

Dead Dove December: The Deepest Cut

Thanks @romana-after-dark for the cool event! Pedge is feeling dark this December and wants to join in on the fun! Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, or DDDNE has its origins from a meme referencing "Arrested Development". The character Michael Bluth opens a paper bag labeled "DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT" and, upon discovering that there is a dead dove inside the bag, says, deadpan, "I don't know what I expected." - fanlore.org

Triggers: Ideation, SH, little smut, spiritual concepts, profanity, PTSD, reference to scars/violence/gun/death, post-apocalyptic world with Joel, implied domme, nakedness, anxiety attack, hurt/care trope...truthfully, we just gotta get through some sh@t before we get to the light...

@toomanystoriessolittletime has a great prompt, "He lifted your chin with two fingers brushing the tears from your cheek asking, 'Who did this to you?' trembling with a nearly feral rage". I wanted to turn it on its head a bit...

The end of the world was filled with so much more Love than you were anticipating. Not the frilly, inconsequential or meandering love of your youth. A darker, deeper, more translucent death than you had ever imagined. And with it, so many other endings had begun to rebirth themselves into a new hesitant light. Joel was the prism through which you had started viewing yourself, and with that blurry and enigmatic nuance your personhood had begun to focus. Within those shadows a burning ember of your own light had re-emerged, not in contrast, but in intimate synergy. You just didn’t understand any of it.  

Gazing down at your body in the sudsy film of a long awaited bath, your fingertips feathered over the many scars covering your body. Pre-apocalypse had afforded you the luxury of only interacting with your body as an instrument. As circumstances plodded along in repetitious doldrum, your emotional life cascaded in opposition. In the internal landscape of emotional chaos, self harm was the treasure that afforded the illusion of control. A sort of subterranean analgesic. You never really understood it, but sacredly knew it by name. It was dark, lush and seductive and it was yours. A way to announce, if to no one other than yourself; this body is mine. MINE. I hurt her as I please. You will not break me, if I constantly break and rebuild myself.

And then…the end. In one searing moment your life had been plunged into an apocalyptic quest for survival. All of sudden, you weren’t the only one bent on your self-destruction, and within you something had begun to solidify. A raging desire. A longing. A yearning…for life. It was like a molten lava, primal and ancient and even more delightedly terrifying than whatever small deaths you had previously endured. And it was all yours. 

Until Joel. He was the flame that seemed to replenish the oxygen within you. Within Joel seethed a depth of suffering and even depravity that graced the periphery of his existence, seemingly holding hands with yours. There was an animalistic magnetism that transcended words, and it crackled in the atmosphere the more you experienced him. That had been five years ago, and since that time, Joel had tenderly invaded every territory you had previously partitioned off, even to yourself. Circumstances might now rage out of control, but your inner demons had begun to quiet in relative submission. Because of Joel.

You couldn’t remember the last time the word relaxation had permeated your consciousness. But it had incrementally, and in sloth-like fashion begun to wrap its lazy tentacles around your pulsing heart. A home (beat). A bathtub (beat). A book (beat). A community of support (beat) And Joel (beat). But could you accept what had so long eluded you in the past? Could light and dark exist in the same space? Could you somehow let it wash over you, rather than attempting to contain it? 

Joel had never pushed the conversation. Already a man of few words, both of you were covered in enough physical and emotional scars to last a lifetime. But you had caught more than a few concerned glances, as his hands delicately fingered the unique patterned scars littering your forearms and quads. Different, but the same. And now, after so many years of evolution, you wondered if this new end was on the horizon. A way to finally say goodbye, not to life, but to death. Your eyes flickered to the small pocket knife you had laid on the bathtub rim. Your pupils were blown wide with anticipation and lust, biting at your lower lip in frenzied tumult. The darkest part of your self that you wanted to submerge into oblivion, trembled on the brink of acknowledgement. If death had been your former lover, couldn’t you impale it on itself? Couldn’t you once again, ask death to die?

You flicked the pocket knife open lazily, feigning nonchalance and gazing at your forearms appraisingly. You felt like an alcoholic, considering that final drink. Not much new territory to explore, you chastised yourself, remembering routines of long ago. Not too low, don’t nick a vein. Not too deep, to avoid suspicion. Symmetrical for the aesthetic. Your breath hitched in your throat momentarily, paralyzed with years of abstinence. Were you really going to do this again, after so many years of control? Self harm was never really about punishment or death at all, but even control had its limits. You needed to know if you had finally stepped into an existence that could include someone else; with intimacy and freedom. A darkness that understood your own, and cancelled one another out. You had given your body to Joel more times than you could count, but could you really give something you un-assuredly possessed? Biting down on your lip you made a quick, skilled cut to your upper arm, feather light and barely pricking the surface.

You held your breath awaiting the numbing relief or the conflicted tears of release, but found a joyful, humming laughter emanating from your sternum instead. Nothing. You dropped the pocket knife to the floor, gazing at the lone bead of blood dripping slowly down your forearm and licking it away tenderly. No. You didn’t want this anymore. You didn’t need it. It hurt. It actually hurt, you smiled. You could experience the scars you already had, without generating new ones. They were ALL yours. Your own story carved into the recesses of your heart, and sharing them with Joel had been the best decision you ever made. You reached over for a washcloth, pressing it firmly to your arm, the flow of blood already stopping. No more. A death to death itself. Only life remained, and it blazed in bright red as a testament to your new covenant of self. A life that included Joel. Holding your arm aloft you dropped the washcloth to the ground, content with your small victory and submerging your face and body in the warm water. Never again. Only life.

Joel tiredly crossed the threshold of your shared home, kicking his boots to the side. No point in dragging mud into the house. It had been an uneventful patrol, and he had spent the entirety of the day thinking about you. Smelling your sweet fragrance. Kneading your plush skin. Basking in the glow of your loving gaze. I’m gettin’ soft in my old age, he reasoned, somehow happy for the unexpected transition.

“Darlin’?” his deep voice bounced off the cavernous living room which was strangely quiet. You usually had already prepared dinner and Joel licked his lips with anticipation. No matter. He WAS home early. He lumbered up the stairs, achingly slowly and rubbing at his lower back. He could use a bath. He caught sight of the sliver of light piercing the upstairs darkness from the bathroom. Caught ya. Joel knocked tentatively on the door, nudging it open hesitantly.

Joel’s stomach dropped with a sickening fervor, quickly taking in the myriad of sights. Knife. Blood. Washcloth. You. You. You. He nearly wretched, dropping to his knees, immediately ignoring every ache in his body, grasping you around the waist and neck and pulling you abruptly from the languid womb of sudsy water. Your eyes flew open in surprise, splashing water and soap sloppily over the rim of the bathtub and dousing Joel’s flannel and jeans.

“J-Joel!…” you sputtered helplessly, looking into his face that was stained with pain, betrayal and confusion.

“WHAT THE HELL ARE YA DOIN’????!!!!” Joel nearly screamed, his eyes a dark black of terror and misunderstanding, roughly running his hands over the totality of your body looking for bruises and lacerations and finding none.

“Oh God, honey I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” you sobbed immediately, grasping at the forearms of his flannel and wiping the soap suds out of your eyes. “This….this is NOT what it looks like…” you hiccuped, eyes darting wildly to his face, taking any purchase of him you could find. You were gripping fiercely at his neck, his face, his arms, his chest. If you could explain, if you just had a moment to explain…

Joel paused as a feverish cry escaped his lips unbidden, smashing your body roughly against his chest and collapsing on the floor in a heap beside the tub. He was rocking you silently like a small child, so you let your body hang loosely over the tub, against him for what felt like an eternity. Your skin began to prune and goose-bump, but you held your breath timidly, willing Joel to understand. You would MAKE him understand. You bit back your own sobs thinking on Sarah….Ellie….the gun. You had NEVER intended him to see you like this. Things finally quieted down as the water sloshed coldly against your knees. Feeling your light shivers, Joel pulled back slightly gazing into your eyes fixedly and drawing his fingers across your forehead. Circling his thumbs at your whitened complexion, he lifted your chin with two fingers brushing the tears from your cheek.

“Who did this to you?” Joel asked, trembling with a nearly feral rage, willing the answer to be different than his expectation.

“M-me” you whispered, furrowing your brow with intensity, terrified at Joel’s next reaction. You felt like you were negotiating with a wounded animal. Watching Joel’s body sag with exhaustion he released you slightly to drag his hand over his face in confusion. He closed his eyes, willing himself to breathe slowly, his thumb grazing the light pinkish mark on your upper arm.

“How m’I gonna protect you from yourself?” his voice cracked in defeat, turning his head away from you in pent up anger. Anger at his helplessness. Anger at you, FOR you, WITH you…he couldn’t steel himself against the barrage.

“You don’t have to” you sat up on your knees, cooling water now cascading over the lip of the bathtub and taking his face in your hands, scratching at his patchy beard. “Let me explain…”

“Do you wanna die?” Joel pleaded, absentmindedly scratching at the scar on his own temple and feeling that familiar tightening sensation in his chest. No. Not another panic attack. Not now. He desperately needed to understand. He needed an enemy to fight.

“Joel…” you took his hand in your own drawing it to your chest and gripping the back of his neck with the other. “I’m. NOT. Going. Anywhere…” you pressed your forehead to his, breathing intently and fixedly slowing his. Joel took a deep shuddering breath, grateful for a chance. A second chance. A chance to catch his breath and LIVE, with you, even just for one more moment.

A few minutes passed before Joel tentatively asked, “Is it me?”

You pulled back, your eyes widening in distress. HOW could you possibly answer that question? Was it him? Well, of course it was him. HE was your continued reason for life, you just desperately wanted to add yourself to the equation. Seeing Joel’s love for you, had only inspired your own. Not to live just for the purpose of someone else but for YOU. For Love itself.

“It’s ME, honey. I’m the reason. I’m saving myself…” you swallowed dryly, unsure how to articulate the answer that had eluded you for so long, and desperately hoping that Joel could somehow divine what you meant. You needed him, even more than before. And now you felt you could bring your whole self to the relationship. Everything dark would draw out the light, and Joel might be the only person who could truly understand that.

He looked at you intently, searching for any hesitancy, and finding none. “You’re not trying to kill yourself?” his eyes hovered about your face appraisingly.

“No” you smiled tenderly, feeling the emotional tides begin to shift.

“Are you going to…do this again?” he asked, a pained expression flashing across his face darkly.

“Absolutely not. Never again” your whole self finally answering back. Joel waited. He wasn’t sure what he was waiting for. He knew he could trust you, but his heart was still thumping dully in his chest. “I swear” you nodded, lacing your fingers through the graying tendrils of his hair. Joel finally closed his eyes in relief, slumping against the bathroom wall. You sighed heavily, shaking your head in amazement. This wasn’t the triumphant moment of victory you had planned, but the end of the world had been so much more unexpected than you predicted. Now Joel knew everything, and you were still in one piece. Love had prevailed. Bumpily. Messily. Painfully. But prevailing nonetheless. You stood up shakily, happy to emerge from the cooling soap suds, a new version of yourself. Towering precariously and dripping on the wooden floor, you kicked Joel’s foot good-naturedly.

Joel squinted up at you, finally relaxing into a tender smile, admiring your dripping form. “Help me up, darlin’” he almost teased, hooking his hand around the back of your knee and beginning to prop himself against the wall. You smirked, attempting to hoist Joel’s broad figure without slipping and sliding as he rested his hands loosely on the curvature of your backside, drawing you to him securely. “You’re all wet…” he intoned, swaying from side to side and reaching behind him for a towel, drawing it comfortingly around you. “Tell me more…” he whispered quietly, stroking your cheek. How could you articulate what you were only beginning to understand yourself?

“I didn’t really…accept myself before…” you haltingly began, looking into Joel’s penetrative eyes and shivering. He gripped you tightly, tucking you further still into the warmth of the towel and his body heat. “But after…the fall…it helped me to regain the sense of balance I needed.  Losing control helped me to find my own. It’s like my survival instinct finally kicked into gear…”.

He held your gaze, nodding his head once in determination. He trusted you, the way you trusted him, and nothing was going to break that. You rested your head on his chest delicately, mumbling into his sternum. “What do you want for dinner?” you sighed, planting feather-light kisses between flannel buttons and drawing away timidly.

“You know what I want” Joel smirked, the oft repeated joke tantalizing his lips, which he hungrily licked. You blushed with immediate acknowledgement, happy to be enjoying your easy rapport once again. “What do YOU want?” he countered, pinching your lower lip between two calloused fingers. You furrowed your brow in consternation, perplexed at his meaning. You didn't want for ANYTHING. You finally had it. You had each other.

“What if I could give it to you?” he ventured, pursing his lips mischievously. 

“Give me what?” you questioned, curiosity peaked.

“Control”. 

A gasp quivered in your throat as arousal pulsed between your legs heatedly. “What?”

“You heard me. I can give you control…” he swallowed dryly starting to walk you backwards to the bedroom.

“Joel…” you didn’t get out any more words before he smashed his lips to yours roughly, kicking the door shut behind him.

*Resources for Anyone Struggling

Pedge Tweets My Darling Muse

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

Series Masterlist

*edited with CapCut

The One With Thanksgiving

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Pedge Tweets PikesPlace

I fell hard for these two, in an unexpected way. Since y'all love them as much as I do, I've started a Slow Burn Winter Series with the assist of @inept-the-magnificent! Here's a little Christmas Confection before our next reveal December 15th! Fictionally, this takes place somewhere between Episodes 3 and 4...

Series Masterlist

*produced with i-fake app

Pedge Tweets PedgeIsPunk

Pedge says he's a little embarrassed, posting on social media for the first time, and doesn't want anyone to think he is....Pedro Pascal. He's just an enthusiast, who has spent an inordinate amount of time...researching this beautiful boy. I told him that we can keep all our innermost thoughts to ourselves, but it's okay to enjoy the beauty of imagination at a distance. He couldn't agree more. Check out the Cuddle Couch if you like RPF...

Series Masterlist

*thanks LittlsMsMorales Art Shop!

Pedge Tweets!

Thanks @inept-the-magnificent for the tag, I've been wanting to do some Instagram worthy characters for a while! I might occasionally incorporate real tweets or photos, but it's mostly just me....and Pedge...

PedgeIsPunk PikesPlace MyDarlingMuse AfterglowSeries PedgesBookshop PedgesJukebox NewYorkNewYork PinkiePiePedge PedgesCinema

Here's the template to try yourself!

Pike's Place; Love Actually

I fell hard for these two, but it wasn't until @burntheedges "Roll-a-Trope Challenge" that I managed to really sink my teeth into this delectable winter treat. Since y'all love them as much as I do, I've started a slow burn Winter Series with the assist of @inept-the-magnificent!

Triggers: profanity, talking lots of talking, a little smut, emergency situation/survival...

Series Masterlist

The firelight danced across Pike’s smiling face as he mischievously hid behind his third cup of hot chocolate, listening to you with delight. “And THEN, I opened the final gift and she had found it. She had found the entire original set that included the author’s notes!” Your face beamed enthusiastically, flush from the nostalgic excitement of another Christmas story.

“I never thought I’d meet someone who loves the holidays as much as I do” Pike stared in wonderment, gently kicking you with a socked foot.

“I mean, as a kid you don’t recognize the nuances at all. All you see is chocolate and games and…MORE GIFTS!” you laughed maniacally, plunging your fingers into Pike’s soft stomach and tickling him viciously as he struggled to grasp you around the waist in protestation without spilling his nearly finished hot chocolate.

“Watch out little girl, I’ve got you right where I want you” Pike laughed through gritted teeth, clamping your body between his knees and setting the cup down on the nearby coffee table.

“Is that so?”you drolled, slowing your tickle attack and gently moving your fingers up his chest and into his hair. Pike swayed his body from side to side, holding you tightly as your lips brushed against his serenely. “Merry Christmas” you mumbled into his mouth, kitten licking for more access as he willingly obliged.

A low moan escaped him as you felt him harden beneath you with longing. “You’re the gift that keeps on giving” he nestled into your neck, kissing at your sternum and jawline slowly. You smiled with happiness running your fingers back down his body and stuffing them into his sweatpants’ pockets. “What do we have here?” you questioned curiously, letting your fingers gently explore over the fabric, finding bristling hair and his hardening length. You paused mischievously, “Christmas ornaments?” dipping your hands lower still as Pike’s eyelids fluttered contentedly.

“Is this the part where I make joke about your Christmas box?” Pike whined, keening beneath you and tilting his hips up to meet you. You shifted your body to the side, pulling his sweat pants down slightly and massaging him languidly. “Only if I get to make a joke about your yuletide log…” you giggled, watching Pike’s face with delight. He bit his lower lip with yearning as you entangled your feet with his.

Pike twitched with surprise, furrowing his brow in consternation. “Okay, Abominable Snowgal…where are your Christmas slippers, your toes are FREEZING” he joked, gripping your chin between his icy fingers. You blushed with embarrassment looking down at your legs which were now bare and bristling with goose bumps. Pulling your nightgown down to cover them, it disappeared, leaving you totally naked atop Pike’s body and shivering violently. A blast of cold air whispered against Pike’s hair, washing over you both like a steely wave of winter as the cabin immediately flickered and darkened bizarrely.

“Can you hear me?” Pike’s voice echoed as he now lay atop you, image blearily coalescing before your eyes. A pounding headache jolted you from your cozy dreamscape as you felt the comparative hardness of the cabin floor beneath you. Your mouth was so dry, no words were forming, just a low moan vibrating in your chest as Pike sighed with relief. You closed your eyes for a moment attempting to return to the cheery warmth of your dream, but Pike protested.

“No, no, no, stay with me” Pike gripped your chin between his icy fingers and rubbed his palm in hard circles against your snow suited sternum. With slight annoyance you blinked rapidly, trying to follow his directions. The dull headache returned with blinding force, clarifying you back into a blurry existence as you wriggled your fingers aside your body. Your lips were numb as you tried to swallow and bring Pike’s concerned countenance into focus. Turning your head to the side the fire was no longer a cheery comfort as it whimpered unceremoniously in a blue haze, the final dregs of smoke curling into small wisps.

“Can you sit up? I’d like to get some water in you…” Pike gently advised, gripping the back of your neck and coaxing you into a sitting position as the room rotated around you.You shut your eyes fixedly as a wave of nausea passed over you, willing the cabin to stop moving like a boat atop the ocean. “Open up” Pike brought a water bottle lightly to your lips as you hungrily sipped, cool water dripping down the front of your chin messily. “Slow, slow…” Pike encouraged, massaging the back of your neck and eventually setting the water down beside you both. You opened one eye hesitantly as the cabin solidified into reality, a cornucopia of images vying for attention. You took a shaky breath, observing the myriad of blankets and pillows piled around you like a fort, shivering slightly in the cooling temperature and immediately noticing the rather large tree limb cascading through the living room window.

“How many fingers am I holding up?” Pike joked, bringing both hands to the sides of your face and rubbing small circles into your cheeks. Smiling dolefully you acquainted yourself with your new cataclysmic surroundings.

“What happened?” you rasped, swaying slightly and closing your eyes with the effort.

“Well, how far back do we need to go?” Pike closed his eyes tiredly, finally taking a resolute breath in suspended relief. “My name is Agent Pike and I work for the Art Squad…” he countered as your eyes shot open with incredulity.

“Marcus…” you whined, gripping the hair at the top of his head and pulling his forehead to yours. “Jesus Christ…”

Pike’s body sagged against yours with exhaustion, smiling with reassurance. “What, is He in the room with us now? Apropos for Christmas, but don’t go towards the light…” Pike’s voice cracked a little as he attempted to lighten the tension of the last twelve hours.

“What’s going on? I think I missed a few steps. Are you okay? Are WE okay?” you winced, attempting to shake the burgeoning pulsation between your temples and trying to will your body into cooperation.

“Well, after you collapsed I want to Macy’s and got our Christmas gifts, Santa dropped by. Rudolf is a total diva…”

You tugged at Pike’s hair, pulling his face back to meet his gaze. “Agent Pike, if it weren’t for this splitting headache, you would be the main pain in my ass” you breathed heavily, cooling temperatures nursing you back to consciousness. “Talk to me. Are you okay?” you implored bringing your hand to cup the side of Pike’s face.

Pike stilled silently, tears springing to his eyes as he swallowed hard. “You really scared me” he sniffled, averting his eyes and gesturing to the tree limb punctuating the living room. “This didn’t help…” he shifted with discomfort, attempting to quell the many emotions he was holding at bay. You took a moment to admire his handiwork, as a large blanket had been stuffed through the protrusion, and haphazardly layered with gray duct tape. It was a marked benefit, but without the fire the temperature seemed to be plummeting by the minute.

“How long was I out?” you blinked, doing a quick body check and noticing the pitch black void outside, dotted by peppery clumps of snowfall.

“God, it felt like forever…” Pike laid down next to you, gazing up at the ceiling. “Maybe fifteen, twenty minutes?” He closed his eyes breathing deeply and rubbing his hand over his forehead confusedly. He paused in the overwhelming silence as you took stock of your current circumstances. While you were unconscious Pike had lit several emergency candles that flickered lightheartedly in the otherwise dark cabin. A small amount of wind tickled the flames as your eyes flicked to the nearby wall heater that was chugging and sputtering weakly. You saw several bottles of water and emergency rations piled by the now defunct fire place. Did the winter winds knock out the fire so abruptly? Your mind was still moving at half speed as the headache dulled into the background, but a growing awareness was permeating your discovery. There must have been more to your apparent intoxication and disorientation. The headaches, the nausea, the vertigo…What could have disrupted both of you to such an extent? Your breath caught abruptly in your throat. You clamped your hand over your mouth, looking down at Pike’s resting figure.

“PIKE?” you nearly shouted into his face as his eyes blazed open with surprise.

“Yes?!” Pike sat up suddenly, grasping his chest nervously. “Are you cold? Hungry? What do you need?” he started piling blankets on top of you and breathing heavily.

“Sorry, I just…monoxide poisoning? Right? That’s why the fire is out? Did you pass out too?”

Pike huffed dramatically, nodding his head and grimacing with soreness. “It was touch and go there for a minute” he draped his arm over your legs trying to catch his breath. “I couldn’t figure out what the problem was until Mother Willow snapped me back into reality” he gestured again to the forlorn looking foyer. “I think that actually might have saved our lives. There must be more limbs or branches covering the chimney and neither of us noticed. If that blast of fresh air hadn’t disrupted our evening, I’m not sure either one of us would be here right now.”

You paused with the sober realization that things were worsening. Though the fire wasn’t available the wall heater was limping along, but not for long. If you had learned anything from your outside venture it was that Bessie the Hyundai was about to be joined by…Genny the Generator in the land of defunct machines. It’s a wonder it had lasted THIS long. Pike must be trying to get as much bang for his buck before the situation derailed completely. You swallowed dryly reflecting on your previous isolation. You would most assuredly be dead if not for this man sitting before you. You bit your lip with thanks, poised to articulate your gratitude when Pike interrupted, his face crumpling in defeat.

“This is totally my fault…” he chastised, laying back down and staring up at the ceiling numbly.

“Hey, hey…that doesn’t sound like Agent Pike from the Art Squad” you bantered, your fingertips drifting over his stomach, and resting assuredly on his chest. He took your hand in his as his lower lip wobbled insecurely.

“If I’m not careful I’m gonna get us both killed AND ruin Christmas…I’m not sure which is worse” he jested, avoiding eye contact with you.

“Look at me, Agent Pike” you drew your fingertips lightly over his cheeks, drawing his face towards yours. “Marcus…” you whispered, wiping a single tear that was trickling, unbidden down his scratchy cheek, “You saved us. You saved me…” you leaned down to kiss him lightly on the lips which apparently did him in. He covered his eyes with the back of his forearm, shaking slightly and finally starting to decompress.

“I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for YOU” you began peppering kisses over his face haphazardly and resting your hands on his chest for support. “This (kiss) is (kiss) not (kiss) your (kiss) fault…” you drew back studying his features appraisingly as he pursed his lips tightly in response.

“I’m so sorry” he apologized, turning his body slightly away from you with embarrassment and hugging his arms around his abdomen tightly. You laid down, your chest to his back, drawing a blanket up and over your both and wrapping your arms over his.

“I think, this is a very lovely, if not unconventional winter picnic you’ve planned for us” you rested your forehead against his back, breathing in his deodorant and hints of aftershave. “The candlelight is an especially nice touch…” you teased, hearing small sniffles vibrating through his chest. “It’s very important that we don’t dehydrate so crying is…only permitted for…gingers in pink snowsuits” Pike shifted with awkwardness, chuckling slightly at your feeble attempts. “Besides, I should be the one crying if this knight in shining armor is leaving for Washington D.C”. The room somehow became even more quiet as you wondered if your jest had overstepped. You didn’t want a repeat of last night’s debacle, but if you were going to meet the Grim Reaper, it was time to lay all your cards on the table. You felt Pike’s body collapse inward in defeat as he slowly turned to face you.

“I don’t know what to say” he began, nearly nose to nose with you under the blankets, breathing softly. “At this point an apology feels so inadequate, I just…didn’t think I…I didn’t think it mattered…” he finally ventured, placing his hand lightly to the side of your neck and feeling the feathering pulse underneath. You nodded your head with understanding, attempting to process the unexpected events leading you to this very moment. There was nothing about this Christmas that had been planned. If you knew anything, you knew Pike was a good man, and there wasn’t a deceitful bone in his body. Maybe the situation with his ex had so derailed his optimism and self-confidence that he couldn’t easily see the opportunities stretching out before him; including you.

“What really happened with you and…Lisbon?” you whispered, wanting desperately to understand how anyone could choose a life that didn’t involve Marcus. Pike sighed heavily, thinking back with nostalgia and hurt to the road not traveled.

“Lisbon was…IS…an amazing woman. We met on the job and formed a quick connection when the job in Washington D.C materialized. I knew it was the right professional step for me, but I…my enthusiasm just overreached. I tried to make us into something we weren’t. She was already deeply invested in…someone else, and we just needed time to realize the difference between a fantasy and a reality.” He swallowed hard, moving his thumb to the notch at your sternum, his eyes fixed on yours hesitantly. “I wanted too much, too soon and it all blew up in my face…” he stated matter-a-factly, as a light breeze ghosted over you both.

You shivered slightly whether from cold or emotion, but thankful for Pike’s immediate transparency. Relationships were so complicated, and it often seemed like a person’s greatest strengths somehow could misalign into their greatest weaknesses. “It was too big an ask, for me to deserve” he rationalized, turning his eyes downward and resting his head on the floor in acquiescence.

You tilted your head to the side in curiosity. Well, that wasn’t true, you mused, furrowing your brow in consternation. No wonder you hadn’t immediately arrived on the same page, and your own silence had complicated the situation. Not one to make the same mistake twice you decided to meet Pike’s transparency with your own. “I don’t think Love can be measured like that” you started, attempting to proceed sensitively. “It’s unconventional, hard to grab hold of…and impossible to predict. But, I mean…if anyone DESERVES it, it’s you, Pike. You deserve love, actually.”

Pike held his breath with anticipation, considering your meaning thoughtfully. He knew the truth of your words, but how could he believe them for himself? Just because you desperately want something doesn’t bring it to fruition. He WANTED to believe this whole nightmare had a happy ending, but how many times could one heart be broken? He held your gaze intently, willing you to feel the intensity of his desire. Somehow he was going to get you both out of this nightmare and try to find the answer to that question.

“I don’t think anyone would argue that we’ve had more than enough reality this holiday season” you forlornly admitted, gripping his hands tightly in yours, and attempting to warm them. The heater sputtered timidly in the corner, hiccuping quietly, on its last legs. “I never thought my life would become so isolated and alone” you pondered, reflecting back on the last few years. “My life felt vibrant and connected and exciting until the pandemic crashed into me and everyone around me. It was then that I realized that people couldn’t prioritize friendships in a world where family was just fighting to survive. It’s not that they didn’t care…people just couldn’t extend themselves further than distance would allow” you reasoned. “And rather than taking the risk to keep reaching out, I just receded further and further in”.

“And that’s how you found yourself on my lucky doorstep” Pike chided, his eyelids drooping slightly with exhaustion. “In pink” he chuckled, closing his eyes for just a second. So tired. He relished the tension leaving his body as he sunk down into the blankets contentedly. It was ridiculous, given the circumstances, but he hadn’t felt this safe in a while. He really felt seen. Like you understood who he was and what he was about. The trip to Washington D.C was everything he wanted, but how could he just leave, knowing that you remained? Would he even get the chance to enjoy the adventure of life, with you at his side? And what if things continued to spiral out of control? Spiral. Why was the room moving in a circle? He sighed sleepily, being lulled into submission. Spinning, spinning, spinning…

“PIKE!” your voice jarred him out of his temporary reverie, as he shook his head, blinking rapidly. “You still with me?” you were rubbing his face aggressively, inches from his lips, a look of concern dotting your expression.

“I’m here” he mumbled tiredly, sitting up precariously on one elbow and clearing his throat with determination. “Not going anywhere” he yawned, chuckling to himself. “One good thing about being snowed-in is that you can’t escape me that easily” he teased leaning over to grab a sip of water and trying to engage his emergency training. “Gotta stay awake” he sighed, sitting up against the hearth shakily and motioning for you to join him. You gathered up more blankets and propped yourself up next to him, nestling into his side for warmth. “This is the survival component of our celebration, when our holiday heroes reminisce on the true meaning of Christmas”. The heater coughed dramatically as Pike pouted in opposition. “How do you suppose Christmas will be in Washington D.C?’ he wondered, trying to shift his focus to the future, rather than the current dire circumstances. “What if we were there right now, instead of here. What would be doing?” he pondered, trying to coerce you both into a proactive, optimistic mindset.

“Well, no ice skating” you chattered next to him, laying your head down slightly on his shoulder. “I’m a complete klutz, as you know, and would only be cajoled into winter activities if hot chocolate is included” you chuckled as Pike nodded into your head.

“Obviously” he smiled, looking over at the Christmas Tree which somehow cheerily smiled back.

“I went to school on the East Coast, you know?” you offered “Hence the pink snowsuit for this bumbling California girl…” you giggled tentatively, reflecting on the many adventurous seasons of your life. “Made it to Washington D.C a few times; you’re gonna love it there” you encouraged.

“Why?’ Pike stifled a yawn, attempting to focus on the flickering candlelight dancing before him. “What could D.C possibly have that WE don’t at Pike’s Place?” he grinned ruefully, hearing the winds pick up slightly outside the whistling window pane.

“It’s true, Pike’s Place has excellent coffee, pancakes….and the STAFF” you rested your chin atop Pike’s shoulder gazing at his profile. “Sooooooo cute. I’m thinking of giving the manager my number” Pike gripped you tightly around the waist smiling to himself. “But D.C is pretty cool too. The food is amazing, and the history around every corner…”. You stopped to lock eyes with Pike conspiratorially.

“THE SMITHSONIAN!” you both intoned playfully, pulling the blankets around you a bit tighter.

“Oh my gosh we’ll LIVE there” you agreed dreamily. “I mean, YOU’LL live there, Art Squad” your eyes drifted down to the small manilla folder propped happily against the unknowing Christmas Tree. “What did you get me for Christmas?” you elbowed Pike in the side jovially as Marcus laughed to himself clandestinely.

“You’re just gonna have to wait for Christmas morning” Pike protested, shaking his head emphatically.

“If we make it that far” you whispered, gripping Pike more fervently as the wind howled menacingly above you. Pike gulped back his anxiety, determined to provide a stolid demeanor.

“What else would we do in D.C?” he blinked lazily, setting his head atop yours in an attempt to ground himself to the moment.

“Let’s see…We would tour the capital”…

“Check” he agreed.

“Enjoying the cherry blossoms by spring and the farmer’s markets by summer”…

“Check” he concurred.

“I’m partial to Thai Food so you’d need to bring that home at least once a week…”

“But how will I enjoy your…unconventional cooking?” he joked as you scoffed in mock offense.

“Because I’ll be sending you to work with the most indulgent peanut butter and jelly sandwiches anyone has ever tasted” you promised, linking your fingers with his and shivering in the cooling cabin. For one terrifying moment the heater completely stilled, its exhausted fans clicking slowly to a silence as the blizzard batted against the punctured windowpane. Pike held his breath momentarily as the heater shook hesitantly back to life, pumping a few steady breaths of warmth over your tingling bodies.

The cabin was silent as you and Pike held one another tentatively.

“What do you think is the meaning of life?” Pike whispered, closing his eyes and burying himself in the shampooed vanilla fragrances of your hair.

You chuckled in bittersweet acknowledgement, shrugging your shoulders with curiosity. “Is hypothermia starting to set in, Agent Pike?” you halfheartedly questioned, acknowledging the looming possibility in the recesses of your mind.

Marcus beamed, thankful to be battling the given circumstances, whilst still enjoying your acerbic sense of humor. “We’re not quite there yet…” he mused, wriggling his toes determinedly and reflecting on the many art pieces he had admired over the years. “I just…love what I do…I love appreciating beauty and art, and humanity. Sorry I’m getting all existential on you…”.

“Apocalyptic blizzards will do that, you know?” you pulled back slightly, gazing intently into his eyes pointedly. “What do YOU think the meaning of life is?” you felt yourself melting into the moment, fixated on the beautiful features of his face, the candlelight beginning to blur everything around you in a hypnotic haze.

“I don’t know” he stated lowly, licking his lips dryly and admiring the cinnamon freckles dotting the bridge of your nose…and perhaps elsewhere. “None of the artists I work to protect are even alive anymore. But their beauty…” he paused to touch your face delicately, watching your eyelids flutter shut. “…their beauty lives on and on. The things we love. The purpose we give ourselves…Some of it kind of goes on forever and ever, I think. So I guess it’s…love. The meaning of life is love, actually”…

And then you were kissing. You couldn’t immediately place when you had begun, but much like Pike’s existential pondering, it seemed to have an element of infinity to it. No beginning and no end. Just breath after breath of one another, in a cyclical loop of forever. A comforting, nurturing, beautiful rose of infinitude. Maybe even, of love.

You enjoyed one another for quite some time, unaware of the heater flickering in and out of existence, as you found other means to warm yourselves by the now extinguished fireplace. Finally pausing to catch your breath, Pike pulled you into his arms, lowering you both to the floor, cushioned by the pillows and blankets surrounding you. “This is a Christmas I will never forget” Pike reflected, somewhere between a laugh and a whimper, watching your head rise and fall atop his chest with his breath.

“It’s definitely one for the books” you grinned, wrapping your fingers around his firmly, a new batch of tears threatening to spill forward. “Since we are setting up our last will and testaments, I just want you to know how much the last week has meant to me, Marcus”.

Pike hummed contentedly, his hold on you relaxing ever so slightly.

“I was determined to keep a cold exterior, but even a blizzard couldn’t keep my heart frozen forever. You’ve shown me nothing but kindness and warmth through this whole adventure, and I couldn’t be more grateful to you…for everything” you admitted.

“That’s the magic of Pike’s Place” he slurred, breathing steadily as his head lolled against yours.

“When we get out of this nightmare, you should really think about starting a Bed and Breakfast. Your pancakes are to DIE for, though something about your fireplace leaves something to be desired…” you paused, anticipating Pike’s retort, but nothing arrived.

“Pike?”

You gazed down at Pike’s hand which felt heavy in yours. Shifting your body quickly you looked up at Marcus’ face which had gone slack, his mouth slightly ajar, but chest still moving steadily.

“PIKE?!!” you yelled into the abyss, but his arms dropped loosely from your grasp to the floor with a dull thud. You snapped to attention, gaping around the room wildly for inspiration. “Don’t do this to me, Agent! Don’t leave me alone on Christmas Eve!” you yelled, willing a miracle to occur. You straddled his waist awkwardly, pounding on his chest animalistically as the tears began to flow freely. “Don’t you dare!” you cried through gritted teeth, rubbing your hands aggressively over his arms and neck helplessly, unsure of what to do next. The heater seemed to give one final exhausted cough of existence before grinding to a halt as Pike’s breaths similarly shallowed. “I just found you! I just found you!” you whimpered, gripping him tightly between your thighs and hugging your body to him with desperation. You grabbed the nearby water bottle slopping a few tentative drops across his face as he stirred once again. More. You needed more. Flinging yourself towards the door you crawled army style over the blankets and around the flickering candlelight for the last desperate option you could think of. Hauling yourself to your feet you flung the door open to in an icy barrage of wind and snow, which all but blew out the remaining candles. Nearly tripping over the doorstep you gathered a handful of ice and stumbled back into the freezing cabin hovering just a moment over Pike’s unconscious frame with indecision. More. You needed more. Adrenaline.

Wincing slightly in anticipatory empathy you smashed the powdery ice alongside Marcus’ now pallid countenance, sliding your fingers down the sides of his neck and shoulders, plunging him into a snowy alarm. Pike’s eyes flew open in surprised distress, grabbing at your hands solidly and sitting up abruptly. Biting back a cry of shock, he breathed in the cold night air which whipped cinematically through your hair, stinging your cheeks, but bringing Pike back to life and back to reality. “I’m awake! I’m awake!” he mumbled, blearily grasping at your tear stained face and looking around the darkened room haphazardly. The temperature immediately plummeted as the heater shrank into stolid stone and a vacuum of cold drenched the cabin in clarifying oxygen and steely darkness. You may have averted the immediate disaster, but had just literally opened the door on the next impending crisis. “How long was I out?” Pike shouted over the howling winds as you sat atop him crying and shivering.

“M-maybe a minute? T-two m-minutes?” you shouted back as your teeth chattered together violently.

“God, it’s a breath of fresh air!” he grinned, but immediately sobering to the new circumstances. “I’ve gotta keep you warm! If the carbon monoxide didn’t kill us, the cold will!” he observed, lifting you up by your elbows and holding you tightly. “At least nothing else can go wrong at this point!” he exclaimed, until it did.

A deafening boom shattered the relative stillness and a flash of light exploded into the atmosphere, rattling the nearby windows and sending a fresh cascade of wind and snow into the icy cabin. Whether from shock or impact your body splayed over Marcus’ figure as the vibrational blast flattened you against him suddenly. Shaking with cold and anxiety, you held one another for a time, until Marcus pulled back to look into your surprised face. “You okay, Pink?” he apparently shouted, though it seemed to be slightly muffled in the chaos.

“I think so!” you retorted, feeling equally dulled. Rolling to the side you did a quick body scan of one another as Pike pulled you to your feet shakily, heading towards the open doorway. Squinting into the snow flurry the woodshed burned brightly, silhouetted against the night sky. You flashed on the theatrical snapshot of “Gone With the Wind” as Pike draped his arm around your waist, magnetically pulled towards the residual heat.

“Well, there goes the generator” Pike’s now alert expression flickered ominously against the backdrop of billowing smoke and flickering flames. “I’d be thankful for the warmth if it didn’t promise to extinguish so quickly” he surmised, already bracing against the frigid winds.

You both stood in the doorway, thankful to be with one another, but desperate to be anywhere else, as it seemed Christmas, and your very survival was immediately going up in flames. “What do we do now?” you questioned, looking into Pike’s determined face and hoping upon hopes he would manage to offer yet another solution.

“I don’t know” he acquiesced. “We’re just gonna have to find some other way of keeping warm”.

*thanks @unknown-till for the cool dividers!

Pedro, Painter, Poet

Gosh, I don't know what happened. With all "The Uninvited" and "Gladiator 2" buzz, I wanted some special alone time with Marcus Moreno. Check out my recent fic, and I hope everyone has a glorious Thanksgiving! This boy gives us so much to be grateful for!

Ode to Gratitude by Pablo Neruda

Thanks to the word that gives thanks. Thanks to the gratitude for how excellently the word melts snow or iron. The planet seemed full of threats until soft as a translucent feather, or sweet as a sugary petal, from lip to lip, it passed, thank you, magnificent, filling the mouth, or whispered, hardly voiced, and the soul became human again, not a window, some clear shine penetrated the forest: it was possible again to sing beneath the leaves. Gratitude, you are medicine opposing scorn’s bitter oxides, light melting the cruel altar. Perhaps you are also the carpet uniting the most distant men, passengers spread out through nature and the jungle of unknown men, merci, as the delirious train penetrates a new country, eradicating frontiers, spasibo, joined with the sharp-cusped volcanoes, frost and fire, thanks, yes, gracias, and the earth turns into a table, a single word swept it clean, plates and cups glisten, forks jingle, and the flatlands seem like tablecloths. Thanks, gracias, you travel and return, you rise and descend. It is understood, you don’t permeate everything, but where the word of thanksgiving appears like a tiny petal, proud fists hide and a penny’s worth of a smile appears.

*transcribed for background in English/Spanish

*thanks @thecutestgrotto for the cool dividers!

Thanksgiving Delights

This is part of our Pedro's Holiday Feast Celebration! Join us for a final Family Dinner this Sunday and stay tuned for the Thanksgiving Day Reveal of "Pike's Place; Love Actually"!

Triggers: I wanted to explore the praise kink for Thanksgiving, midst a Moreno marriage, post tryptophane haze. Smut, praise kink, marital bliss, hiding from the kiddos, oral f receiving, P in V committed relationship, profanity...food? I think that covers it...May we all continue to be grateful...

Closing your eyes in exhaustion you sank down on the mattress of the master bedroom, dangling your feet over the edge. Thank God. Thanksgiving was DONE. You sighed with relief, hearing the echoing shouts of your small family, starting the annual video game marathon tradition and allowing you a small respite.

You smiled with acknowledgement, assured that Marcus would have already put away the leftovers and begun the unenviable task of dishwashing, as you had doubled down on the Thanksgiving festivities. There was turkey, mashed potatoes, gravy, green beans, cranberry sauce, a charcuterie board, apple cider, date nut bread…and a cooling pumpkin pie as an encore. But, rubbing your sore muscles you had to acquiesce, the preparations were getting harder. You loved providing for your small family, and had no extenuating responsibilities, but your mid-life awakening came with an additional set of aches and pains.

Your eyes were still closed, but you heard the familiar baritone of your loving husband echoing down the hallway, “Everybody start without me, your mom and I need a nap….and don’t eat that pumpkin pie till you clear level five, AT LEAST!” he shouted good naturedly, nosing his way into the bedroom you had shared for more than ten years. “Any casualties of war?” he softly intoned, closing the door gently. If your eyes had been opened you might have noticed him surreptitiously locking it, but currently you were floating in a fatigue fueled haze of drowsiness.

“Hmmm…?” you muttered, hopeful that a cuddle session was about to ensue…or at least that the dishes were already done. The mattress dipped under his weight, as he collapsed next to you, his feet nudging yours.

“I’m fullllll” he groaned, resting a hand on your thigh languidly as you rubbed at your eyes tiredly.

“It was good, right?” you knowingly smirked, turning your head to the side and finding him already staring at you. You gazed into his eyes that were crinkling with joy and tryptophane, drawing a finger across his forehead and admiring the wrinkles that had developed over the last several years. If you squinted (as you often needed to now, in your 40’s) you could see a hint of the salt and pepper dotting his beard and fringes of hair. What a fox. How had you gotten so lucky?

“Honey, you outdid yourself this year” he stifled a yawn, moving his hand up your thigh and resting it on your softened tummy, which gurgled in response. You giggled, surprised, curling up into a ball and turning your body towards his.

“What did you like best?” you sparkled, noticing the small hole in the armpit of his gray shirt. You made a mental note to purchase some new undershirts at your next store run.

“I like the chef the best” he teased, his scruffy beard scratching at the crook of your neck as you hummed contentedly.

“Happy Thanksgiving” you whispered, expecting to drift into a happy nap before joining the kiddos in their evening games.

“You know…” Marcus began, interrupting your reverie, “I’ve been feeling particularly….thankful for my wife this holiday season…”. Your eyes flew open in curiosity.

“Oh honey, I’m so grateful for everything you do for me and the kids…and well, everyone. That’s one of the many reasons why I married you…” you drifted off a bit, returning to your sleepy, disjointed mindset.

Marcus cleared his throat tentatively, slowly moving his hand across your midriff and cupping your backside with one hand. Your eyebrows crinkled, unexpectedly aroused, but still tired and now moving your own hand in lazy circles across his back.

“I was…kind of hoping we had time for…dessert…” he sounded a bit bashful with his request, as you responded, “You can’t possible want that pumpkin pie NOW…” you joked, eyes still closed. Marcus swallowed so loudly, you finally understood his intention, cocking one eyebrow quizzically.

“Honeyyyyyy…” you moaned, “I’ve been up since 6am, I’m not sure I have a shred of energy left…even for THAT” you jested, poking him in the stomach with one finger.

“What if…I did all the work?” his eyes were a sea of warmth and love, and you felt yourself getting lost in the magnetism of his pining.

“Is this gonna involve whipped cream, because I’m pretty sure I forgot that on my grocery list this year” you smiled.

“Only if you want it to” he sank down to his knees on the carpet, tugging lightly at the sweat pants you were wearing.

“Baby, you can’t be serious” you sat up on your forearms looking at his puppy dog face that was now resting on your knee, and pouting adorably. “How are you still hungry?”

He shrugged boyishly, a wide grin spreading across his face and tapping at your hips excitedly. You heaved a sigh of happy resignation as he shimmied your sweatpants off seductively, his eyes glistening a deeper shade of black. “Did you lock the door Casanova?” you questioned, enjoying the glazed look sinking into his countenance as he peppered kisses across your knees and up your thighs.

“This isn’t my first rodeo, sweet pea” he mumbled into your upper thigh as your knees unexpectedly clamped around his head.

His hands shot up in the air placatingly, “I surrender!” he muttered, practically encased in your womanhood, as you released your grip immediately.

“Oh my God, we’ve been so busy lately, and the holidays…she’s not…She’s not…manicured. Just come up here and make out with me already. You don’t even have to brush your teeth…” you attempted to deflect, but your husband wasn’t easily dissuaded.

“Don’t care about that” he moaned into your clothed pussy, a thin layer of lace acting as the only barrier between his desires and you.

“Ohhhhh” a sinful moan escaped your lips as you fell back onto the bed. Good God. How long had it been? You were extremely happy in your marriage, but circumstances never really slowed down. Sometimes you worried you weren’t performing your marital duties enough, but Marcus never complained. It was often the last thing on your mind, but not in this moment. In this moment, Marcus was invading EVERY fatigued crack and recess of your mind and body. His tongue flattened and lapped against the material of your underwear creating a mind numbing electricity of friction.

You gasped heatedly, parting your legs for better access and gripping at his hair greedily. “Ohhhhh gawwwwwd” you sighed, every thought fluttering out of your head in relaxed euphoria, as Marcus paused in his ministrations.

You gulped with slight embarrassment, your eyes shooting over to the locked door and hearing your children yelping with excitement and frivolity. Your hand flew up over your head grabbing a pillow and stuffing it to your face. No going back now. This was going to be a Thanksgiving to remember. Marcus dove back in, his hands easily moving your underwear to one side and circling the pointed spear of his tongue around your clit, pulsing forward after every circumference. He was everywhere. He kept shifting directions and then flattening his tongue, licking a devastating stripe from the base of your fourchette up to the tip of your heat until you couldn’t think straight. You were writhing and moaning and began clawing at the pillow, biting into it to dull your sighs of pleasure, but Marcus knew your body like the back of his hand. You really had no chance whatsoever. A primal swirling sensation was whipping you into submission, already tired from the day’s festivities, you could have come on his tongue in a matter of minutes. But then he was pausing and breathing heavily, a welcome respite from the onslaught of passion, somehow leaving you simultaneously relieved and wanting.

“Is it time for the whipped cream?” you asked, a lazy smirk dotting your face, as you tried to get your bearings.

Marcus smiled, the glisten of your arousal coating his lips and beard like a sugar glaze as he hungrily crawled up your body, looking into your eyes.

“Want to see my girl” he rasped, wiping his face on your stomach and biting at your breasts over the comfy t-shirt you were wearing.

“Is that so?” you drawled, his hand cupping the back of your neck and holding the weight of your head against it.

“Want to show how thankful I am, to the mother of my children” he graveled, unzipping his jeans in one motion as you helped pull them down to his knees. “Can’t wait another second…” he pulled his length out, notching it at the tip of your entrance. A shock of electricity bolted through your body as you struggled to keep your hips level. “Want to give you everything you give me” he nearly croaked, sheathing himself in you slowly as your hand flew up to your mouth in restraint. At this rate, the neighbors were going to hear, if you couldn’t control….

“Made for me…pretty girl” he started to unravel, looking into your face and beginning to pump in and out rhythmically. You bit down on the top of your hand, now moving your hips in synchronicity with his.

“I love watching you come apart for me…all mine…just for me” he stated absentmindedly, watching your eyebrows furrow in concentration. “Good girl, good girl…” he repeated his mantra with every thrust, drawing you closer and closer to your release. Wow, wow, wow. Thank God for Thanksgiving. You searched for any thread of control you could find, now gripping at the sheets desperately, and finding none. Good girl. Good girl.

“You’re (I’m) close” you muttered nearly at the same time, your body pulsing and fluttering around him in ecstasy. He grabbed at your backside, drawing your hips up into him and moving faster.

“Are you going to cum for me, now? Are you my good girl?” he growled, your eyes shooting open with surprise. You were. You were going to come for him. The tendrils of your orgasm were already wrapping themselves around your abdomen, and bubbling to the surface. You couldn’t stop. You wouldn’t stop. You wanted more. More. More. More.

Your body lurched a couple times in agonizing climax as your eyes glazed over in enjoyment. Watching Marcus bite at his lower lip, a thin sheen of sweat dotting his forehead as you cascaded in one, two….THREE. The world exploded in a ball of light and love, your mouth falling open in a silent scream of pleasure. You tried to wriggle out of his steely grasp, but he pumped into you voraciously, not letting up. Blearily wondering how much more ecstasy you could take, you felt his hips stutter and still, as his own release filled you with warmth and contentment. After a few more moments of delight, he collapsed next to you, breathing heavily and wiping at his forehead. You whined happily, somehow satiated AND hungry, turning your body towards his.

“Wowwwwww, baby” you nuzzled into his side, nipping at his earlobe with your mouth, completely blissed out. “That was…wow” you couldn’t articulate anything, just happily buzzing next to your husband and hearing the echoing pandemonium of the living room drift back into your awareness.

“Happy Thanksgiving” he mumbled into your breastbone, a contented and sleepy expression dotting his face as you smiled back.

“Thaaaaaaank youuuuuu” you giggled, pulling his face to yours in a sloppy kiss and sighing into his mouth happily.

“Mmmmm….” he moaned, stroking your back with the tips of his fingers and relaxing against your body. You held each other contentedly for several minutes, flickering between consciousness and a hazy warmth. Finally opening your eyes in gratitude, you found him staring at you fixedly once again.

“This is the life I dreamed of” he whispered, his eyes glistening with tears, drawing a thumb to your mouth in supplication.

“Me too” you smiled softly, pecking gently at his lips and lying back on the bed.

“Time for seconds?” he grinned, placing a hand across your sternum and inching closer.

“Seconds? We haven’t even had the pumpkin pie yet!” you teased, latching a finger at the base of his hole-y undershirt.

“Wasn’t talking about pumpkin pie…” he laughed, burying his face in your stomach as you wrapped your legs around him tightly.

*thanks @bernardsbendystraws for the cool dividers!

My Darling Muse; My Darling Dieter

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. I so enjoyed the writing prompt for "Get Dieter Sober" @bitchesuntitled! D is with you!

Triggers: 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!

Doctor's Notes for Journal Entry,

"What would you do if evil didn't exist, and what would the earth look like if all the shadows disappeared? After all, shadows are cast by things and people". "But what can be done, the one who loves must share the fate of the one he loves". "Who told you that there is no true, faithful, eternal love in this world! May the liar's vile tongue be cut out!" "Cowardice is the most terrible of vices." *written in the margins: Patient's Name, Dieter Bravo. Addiction: YES. Detox + Psych. Eval. Art Therapy. Narcissist/Low Self-Esteem. Yoga + Kit-Kats.

Dieter has been quoting "The Master and Margarita" as his mantra of choice during his rehab. stay. Here follows our correspondence...

My Darling Dieter,

Oh my honey, I'm sorry the "cinematic narrative of your life is flashing before your eyes". Just a gentle reminder that you have only been in rehab for 24 hours, and I couldn't be more proud of you! Keep up your steady diet of celery juice and Kit-Kats. And yes, I will give you a sponge bath when you get home. Sincerely, J

My Darling Dieter,

The doctors say you are doing well, particularly with your consumption of Kit-Kats! I know this is a difficult time, but I am so proud of you! Everything is on schedule for "Cliff Beasts 7"! You will be appearing as your own clone, in the year 2500 A.D. I hope this news provides some respite. Sincerely, J

My Darling Dieter,

Your reply gave me such joy, though I'm not sure this is a good moment to smuggle in your favorite whiskey. Perhaps I could persuade you with some chocolate chip cookies? I'm glad you are finding comfort in "The Master and (the) Margarita"! But no, I don't think rehab. is a good locale for a coup....Yours, J

My Darling Dieter,

The doctors say you have rounded the corner with your ongoing recovery! I am so excited to attend your upcoming one man show, "Dieter Deconstructed". I'm sure it will be a smash hit at the rehab. center, and yes, maybe we can start developing it as a musical. I'm not sure tap dancing is your forte, but let's talk more...Yours, J

My Darling Dieter,

I am so excited for you to come home and teach me about your new coping skills! I have purchased a nurse's outfit, as per your request and have stocked the fridge with copious amounts of celery juice, Kit-Kats and chocolate chip cookies. The Tik-Tok of you dancing in your hospital gown went viral, as expected....Love, J

*thanks @kodaswrld for the cool dividers!

Hey folks! This is J, Dieter’s PA. This has been an exciting week for all of us, as Dieter checked himself into rehab. after the recent election. He said he was feeling particularly “wibbly-wobbly” and wanted a tune up before starting his next project of “Cliff Beasts 7”. His fellow actor and good friend Pedro Pascal recommended the book “The Urge; Our History of Addiction” and “The Master and Margarita”, which has given D a tremendous sense of hope. While I doubt this is the only time Dieter will need rehab., I can assuredly say it has taken our friendship to a new level. We both feel this is not the opportune moment to pursue an exclusive relationship, but I will happily be giving D sponge baths for the foreseeable future, as part of my PA responsibilities. Dieter is currently snoring contentedly in his sensory deprivation tank, and has requested more chocolate chip cookies for the end of his session, so I better go…Happy healing to all!

The General's Genre

I love combining reality with fantasy, and while I'm sure this isn't a new Tumblr concept, I'm going to be cataloguing our Pedro Boys as per Pedge's suggestions! All playlists will attempt to utilize music or groups that Pedro Pascal has referenced at some point. Get your headphones and enjoy! I don't know about you but I am NOT ready for the Gladiator 2 premier. Maybe this will get me in the mood for writing all those saucy fics...

Triggers: music may involve profanity and adult topics, short description of character's interactions with music, smut

Pedge's Jukebox

The General's Genre

*General Acacius would not be caught dead singing, even in his youth, but can occasionally be found spurring his men to victory by the glorious retelling of Roman mythology or battles of yore *As the head mistress in Acacius’ household you endeavor to have servants and entertainers ready when the General returns from battle. The welcome is always appreciated, but Acacius almost always dismisses the entire household in favor of sharing a warm bath, a simple meal and relations with you *Occasionally he will allow the court musician to stay, including the lyre which is his favorite instrument. Although he will never admit it, he enjoys making love while listening to the dulcet tones of the lyre lilting in from the outdoor courtyard *While music might not be an instrumental part of his life, rhythm is a huge component of victory on the battlefield. There is a certain musicality to strategy, including the percussive nature of swordplay, rallying cries and the repetitive drumming of the oarsmen *Acacius can tell when his weapons have been polished and maintained to the height of their glory. Swords and other armaments are pitched at a certain purity when untarnished by rust and blood. *When waging war for extended periods of time, the General often composes love sonnets and poetry specifically for your ears. He does not write these down, for fear of capture or manipulation, but commits them to memory in the hopes of seeing you in the near future *When making love, Acacius employs his many talents, sheathing his heat rhythmically into you at a fierce volley. He is attuned to your cries of pleasure and surrender, waiting until the breaking point to fully conquer your body, as per your request. When you return the favor, there is no battle from him whatsoever, having spent his aggressions on the battlefield. He is completely beholden to you, body and soul.

My Darling Muse vii,

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...

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

My Darling Muse,

I hardly know where I begin, nd where you end They say it pisses Love off, when you ignore Them So I observe You for all eternity I will embody Love for you, Love I, the red of passion, and You the hue of Blue Together we are royalty, we are wine, we are intoxication We are the Purple Haze. we are the Purple Summer We are a sea of irises, the sweet juice of the grape The prism of ultraviolet that is never seen, rather felt You breath me in, I exhale you lazily The fire that never quenches, The addiction that never harms We are the Purple Rain that drenches the drought Baptizing, redeeming, healing, a church of longing In you I form a new self, in you, my color truer still We bleed into each other, giving life; stilling death Written in the Margins: How do Purple Feelings, feel? Purple People Eater--Double Entrendre?

Hey folks! This is J, Dieter's PA. We have had our hands full with the recent debut of Dieter's latest film "Pike's Place". In it, he plays a character named Marcus Pike who is snowed in during a blizzard with his own Muse. Dieter took the time during filming to start reading "The Color Purple", but abandoned it in favor of the recent movie stating, "he wanted to look at more pretty pictures". Either way, Dieter seems to have been deeply impacted by its gravitas and assembled this self-portrait to consider the many ways purple has benefitted his life.

He also assembled the playlist Dieter's Deets to "get him in a purple mood", though I'm unclear what is particularly purple about it. Outside of drinking copious amounts of red wine and indulging in Purple Haze, this seems to be the primary way Dieter continues to passionately make love to....colors.

Filming has been stressful for D during this time, and I've advised him that it might be time to revisit rehab, if for nothing else, than the celery juice. There is a current campaign in the public eye to "Get Dieter Sober" to make sure he is Oscar ready for "Cliff Beasts 7". I personally think this is an excellent opportunity for respite. Though Dieter might never be completely sober, I feel he should at least be more...conscious.

He is currently napping in his silk purple pajamas and listening to "Purple Rain" on repeat...snoring.

*thanks @bernardsbendystraws for the cool dividers

Pike's Place A Christmas Confection

It's time for a Christmas Confection y'all! Inspired by @auteurdelabre and their VHS Club, I'm hoping they will add "Pike's Place" to their rental collection. A big thank you to @dornish-queen for the superb "Mentalist" footage. Please enjoy these Christmas Confections until then. I got a peak at Pike's Journal during the Holiday Festivities...

Pike's Playlist

I love combining reality with fantasy, and while I'm sure this isn't a new Tumblr concept, I'm going to be cataloguing our Pedro Boys as per Pedge's suggestions! All playlists will attempt to utilize music or groups that Pedro Pascal has referenced at some point. Get your headphones and enjoy!

Triggers: music may involve profanity and adult topics, short description of character's interactions with music, smut

Pike's Playlist (Spotify)

*Pike, who follows the same routine at almost every job location; make friends with the locals, tour museums, find local Thai Restaurant and listen to jazz music before his evening movie. *The only other music besides jazz that Pike appreciates is movie soundtracks. He adores the soundtrack from “Casablanca”, as well as Thomas Newman’s compositions for “Little Women” *Pike prefers to observe his favorite museum pieces in silence, but since that is so difficult to come by, he can often be found with his old iPod headphones, listening to jazz music and admiring the local artistic scene *Pike is a pretty regimented guy, so he will often go for a morning jog while listening to his favorite playlist.  *Marcus Pike LOVES taking his time in the bedroom and has prepared many playlists for just such an occasion. He loves the poetry and romance of the moment and can ALWAYS be relied upon to make you morning pancakes afterwards. *After the divorce, Pike is a little more armored up, but once you get to know him, he’s a pretty big teddy bear. One of the first things he likes to do with new relationships is to make a mixed tape, and then spend the first dates talking about his selections and how they relate to you. *Pike will often pause movies or soundtracks to tell you the backstory about filming or production. You used to find that with other people who were condescending, but Marcus is always so excited and forthcoming, you find it endearing. *When Pike is in the kitchen, he is always humming to himself and dancing playfully to the jazz pieces he enjoys the most. You try to sneak up on him on occasion, but he always senses your presence, and tries to pull you in for a slow dance…without burning the pancakes. *Once a month Pike insists on taking you to the opera, the ballet or the outdoor cinema in Washington D.C. He claims its to “keep abreast of local culture and artistic trends” but it mostly seems like an excuse to take you to a fancy dinner.

*thanks @steadycameraroll-graphics for the cool dividers!

Hey beauties, you are officially invited to "Pedro's Holiday Feast" for the month of November! Every Sunday we will sit down for a family dinner, enjoying the cornucopia. Things to be grateful for--

First Family Dinner

Second Family Dinner

Final Family Dinner

Thanksgiving Day Reveal!: Pike's Place; Love Actually

*thanks @bernardsbendystraws for the cool dividers!

Pedro-Tober #5

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! Thanks for making our month so colorful!

26.) Vanity Fair IG: laurenbdoeslife

27.) The Last of Us IG: craftingwithamyc

28.) Marcus Moreno @alyssamariag

Marcus Pike "Pike's Place", "A Different Happy Ending" @pedges-world

29.) The Uninvited @norththelemon

30.) Fav Awards Fit IG: milkbreaddoodles

31: SAG Awards IG: sewfydoodles

Series Masterlist

My Darling Muse + Pedge's Jukebox

Hey folks! This is J, Dieter's PA. Two dynamic worlds have combined to bring you this Very Special Episode of "My Darling Muse" and Pedge's Jukebox. Just to be safe, I'm going to include triggers from both series and advise you to proceed with caution. Dieter was particularly saucy but told me to leave as is so I don't "sully the purity of artistic expression". Totes.

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, alcohol, sex, smut and any meanderings D wants...He's endlessly inspired by art, poetry, songs, sex and YOU!

Music may involve profanity and adult topics, short description of character's interactions with music, smut. All playlists will attempt to utilize music or groups that Pedro Pascal has referenced at some point. Get your headphones and enjoy!

Dieter's Deets (Spotify)

*Dieter always paints with his playlist blaring loudly. He says it summons his mind muses. *Obviously, Dieter can make love in just about any situation imaginable (insert here). He once had a passionate love affair with Cirque de Soleil. In any case, if music is not in the background, Dieter has been known to start singing mid sexcapade. Not well. But with…enthusiasm. *Dieter is a pretty sensitive guy, and has learned through trial and error that music and drugs are a poor combination. Depending on his vice of choice, Dieter can be found enacting the lyrics of his favorite pieces, which was particularly detrimental during his Doja Cat era… *Dieter is not allowed to attend Broadway musicals anymore. He would often go to see friends in aforementioned productions like “The Color Purple” but would start singing along at any opportunity, and was kicked out…several times. *After the nebulous success of “Cliff Beasts 6” Dieter has found new success with his TikTok account. Run by J, his PA, Dieter has posted several tutorials of his well known dance moves, which can also be seen in movie theaters around the world. *Dieter has informed J that he is only allowed to listen to the song “Pedro” by Omar Apollo five times a day, so he doesn’t become too dehydrated from sobbing hysterically. *Dieter has been using his playlist to explore components of his “Divine Feminine and Divine Masculine”. He can either be found in a pink, silk mumu dancing to “Tomboy” by Princess Nokia, or mostly naked in a tool belt and construction hat dancing to “I’m Still Standing” by Elton John. *As is widely known on social media, Dieter got his tentative start in a short, European adult film before transitioning into more cinematic masterpieces. What isn’t widely known is that he was cast not only because of his sexual fluidity, but also because of his monologue. After Dieter performed a dramatic version of “Let’s Talk About Sex”, he was hired on the spot. He was also sleeping with the creative team, but that is inconsequential… *Dieter once auditioned for a musical (before he was permanently banned from Broadway) for the role of the Piglet in the highly anticipated horror flick “Winnie the Pooh and the Hundred Acre WOOD”. After singing his audition cut, the director said Dieter was far too scary. Dieter concurred. *As you know, Dieter launched a controversial digital yoga program after his filming experiences in “Cliff Beasts 6”. His signature moves promise flexibility, increased libido and alleviation of lower back pain, but share little with common, legitimate yoga practices. Exercises are recommended with this playlist and are creatively termed by Dieter as: The Studmuffin, Fuck Position, and Fluttering Vulva.

*thanks @animatedglittergraphics-n-more for the cool dividers!

Pike's Place Nightmare Before Christmas

Thanks to @burntheedges "Roll-a-Trope Challenge" this dynamic duo is going strong till Christmas Day. I've started a slow burn Winter Series with the assist of @inept-the-magnificent!

Triggers: fainting, nightmares, argument, profanity, reference to alcohol, gun use, emergency scenario, panic attack

Series Masterlist

“What are you doing?!” Pike implored, jumping up from the couch and nearly falling over the coffee table in the process.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” you pleaded, wrapping yourself more tightly in an attempt to disappear into the floorboards.

“I know we’ve grown closer over the last few days…but you can’t just…How much Merlot did you have?” he questioned, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and stumbling slightly in the darkened room. Ella Fitzgerald weirdly kept repeating "I’m not yours, for better or for worse" as the record skipped jovially…

“ImsosorryIwasjusttryingtogetupthecouragetosaysomethingandyoulookedosadorablesleepingIcoulndttellifyouhadfeelingsformeandIvebeensoalonethelastfewyearsIthoughtwereallyhadaconnectionandIwouldneverwanttodoanythingthatmadeyouuncomfortableIveneverbeensoembarassedImsosorry!”

Pike was breathing heavily, running his fingers through his hair, trying to grasp the situation and looking wildly around the room as Ella warbled repetitively from the phonograph.

“What is it you want?” he questioned, pausing as all the air seemed to be sucked out of the room. “Have you been playing me this whole time?”

Your eyes widened to pleading saucers, holding your hands out in supplication, “Marcus, let me explain…”.

“It’s Agent Pike” his eyes darkened slightly as the room became somehow hot and cold simultaneously. This can’t be happening, you thought as a chill ran through your body unexpectedly. This was your worst nightmare becoming a reality. You had finally circumvented your isolation and fear and taken a real risk and it had blown up in your face. Four years of working from home, becoming more and more distant from friends and family, therapy, a pandemic…You looked over at the nearly finished bottle of Merlot. Geez, did you have a drinking problem now, too? Shaking your head to clear the cobwebs you felt the creeping tendrils of a small headache form at the base of your skull. How had everything gone so wrong in a matter of minutes? And what did Marc…what did Agent Pike say about Washington D.C? Your thoughts were flashing wildly across your mind scape but not making any sense. You weren’t drunk, so why was everything so confusing? You looked up at Pike pacing nervously back and forth as the television sent bizarre flickering images across his face and body.

Share for share, share alike You get struck each time I strike You for me- me for me- I'll give you plenty of nothing I'm not yours for better but for worse And I've learned to give the well-known witches' curse I've a terrible tongue, a temper for two And everything I've got belongs to you, you, you, you, you, you, you….

Your breath hitched in your chest as Ella outlandishly skipped over and over again, adding a horrible paranoia to an already uncomfortable moment.

“For heaven sakes!” Pike huffed, yanking the needle off the phonograph and eliciting a bone chilling scratching sound in the speakers. He picked up the record and smashed it across the hearth. The fire crackled ironically, as Pike looked at you as though seeing for the first time. “I think you should leave” he muttered, lowering his eyes to the ground uncomfortably and almost backing into the formerly cheery Christmas Tree behind him. “Now. I need you to leave now.”

“What?” you whispered, gulping with anxiety and beginning to consider the ramifications of his statement. What time was it? Maybe 2am in the morning? You hugged your body to your chest fearfully, balking with incredulity. Pike might not reciprocate your feelings, but he couldn’t possibly be serious. It was officially Christmas Eve, where were you supposed to go in a blizzard? Could you stay in your car till the storm subsided? Maybe you could just promise to stay in the upstairs bedroom till the mechanic arrived…or sleep in the wood shed? A lump immediately formed in your throat as tears sprang to your eyes. This is what you get for believing in yourself, you chided. Pike told you to be the hero of your own story, and now you were going to be more alone than ever.

“Get out. Now!” Pike shouted, grabbing the manilla envelope from under the tree and throwing it in the fire.

“No!” you shuddered, reaching for the envelope helplessly, praying you could somehow salvage the turn of events. You watched the unknown gift crumple into flames, feeling as though your heart were somehow mangled in the smoke. Coughing and sputtering, you stood to your feet, swaying slightly with confusion, feeling an oppressive weight bearing down on you.

“Marcus, I never meant to…” you doubled over in weakness as the room spun around you overwhelmingly.

“Agent! Pike!” he exclaimed, picking up the Christmas Tree and shoveling it into the roaring fireplace. The room was getting hotter and hotter as you fell to the floor gasping for air. The entire cabin was going up in flames. You felt like Ebenezer Scrooge, clawing at your own mortality as Marcus started laughing maniacally…

“Get out of my house!” he cackled, his eyes alight with revenge and terror, seemingly basking in your cries for help.

“Please, please…” you heard yourself crying until…

You sat bolt upright in bed, awakening to the sound of your own voice. Blinking rapidly in the nearly pitch black room you heard the howling wind outdoors. You were covered in sweat and had a pounding headache. Damn Merlot, you reprimanded yourself as the reality of the evening’s events cascaded, unbidden, into your foggy dream-like state. If only THAT had also been a nightmare, but no such miracle occurred. You swallowed a fresh cascade of sobs, desperately wishing you had kept your desires to yourself. But no, you were determined to escape the never-ending isolation of the pandemic, and somehow ended up more alone than ever. Tomorrow, you were leaving, heading into an unknown future. Worse still, you might have lost a real friend in Pike, but what did it matter? Pike was moving to Washington D.C and you had just ruined the only opportunity that had graced your doorstep in a very long time. This was oh so very real. A real nightmare come to life. Your very own “Nightmare Before Christmas”…

Pike stared unblinkingly at the flickering images on the television screen. Perpetually hounded by nightmares for the last several days, he annoyingly found himself unable to sleep, replaying the evening over and over in his mind. He rubbed his forehead placatingly, trying to make sense of the recent complexities. Once again he had repeated the same enthusiastic mistakes, falling head over heels for an idyllic misrepresentation of the truth, and now he’d broken someone else’s heart in the process. He looked towards your upstairs doorway, cold and closed to the harsh winds battling outside. Were you okay? Were you asleep? Were you as unsettled as he was? How could he fix what had been so easily broken? One moment, he held you in his arms, caressing the very gift he had so desperately desired from day one. And the next, you were flying up the stairs in retreat, planning to permanently leave his life before Christmas had even come to fruition.

How had things gone so drastically wrong? First you were strangers. Then, you were circumstantial friends. He didn’t want to treat you like a captive audience. During all those conversations, all those movies, and all those glasses of Merlot, he didn’t want to ruin things the way he had with Lisbon. Even allowing himself to believe that love would find its way to him had felt impossible, so why even mention it? Why mention the move to Washington D.C when that information had only caused harm in the past? Why believe that love had shown up on his doorstep when that door was just going to lead to another dead end?

Pike watched the television as Jack Skellington battled between the two paradigms of Halloween and Christmas, trying to move into a holiday of celebration and joy, whilst somehow taking his own limitations with him. Cynically smirking at the ghoulish figures parading before him, he twitched once again hearing the howling blizzard which had only intensified over the last few hours. The once picturesque landscape had begun to turn, trees clawing loudly at the roof, wind arguing fiercely for dominance. At first a small glimmer of hope had begun to light in his heart. Perhaps he could stall your departure and make an explanation, but what was there to explain? He had come back to tie up loose ends with Lisbon, and after closing that door, had shipped his few belongings to D.C and determined to end the year in solitude. Never in his wildest dreams did he imagine the holidays would include…you.

And how had he accepted this newfound sense of acceptance and unexpected opportunity? By hiding valuable information and then giving in to his desires without considering the ramifications. He hoisted himself up to grab some more fuel for the fire. The least he could do as a good host was keep his guest warm and try to get you home in one piece before Christmas Day.

The front doorknob rattled ever so slightly as a particularly large gust of wind shook the cabin dauntingly. Pike silently took stock of the resources and reserves that he knew remained in the cabin. Living on the East Coast had given him some inclinations of a real winter, but this was extreme, especially for California. The pipes could freeze, power lines could go down. He was just wondering if he should check the landline in the study, when he caught the telltale overture of trouble. The television started flickering hesitantly along with the lights, until the very mechanism of life itself seemed to grind to a halt, all electricity evaporating into the ether and plunging Pike into immediate darkness. Things just went from bad to worse.

You clutched your chest, hearing the dull thud of your racing heartbeat as blood rushed through your ears. What was that? Somehow the room was even darker than before and you could no longer hear the twinkling sound of the television from the living room. What was going on? You pulled off Pike’s flannel pajamas, nimbly feeling your way to the ubiquitous pink snowsuit.

You hadn’t even waited for an explanation. After the embarrassment of throwing yourself at Pike in a Merlot infused bid for love, his Washington D.C confessional had been the ultimate bruise. For that matter, WHY didn’t Pike mention the Washington D.C move earlier? You bit your lower lip, searching haphazardly for your boots. You’d spent the last few hours tossing and turning over your own missteps, but it takes two to tango. Was he really so oblivious as to think that was an unimportant detail? You found your initial irritation beginning to blaze in the recesses of your regret and guilt. You knew that Pike was too good to be true, but somehow his own contagious enthusiasm had dulled the impenetrability of your emotional armor. You had started believing that love was possible. You hurriedly zipped up the snowsuit, considering your options. You didn’t want to impose on Agent Pike anymore than you had to. Maybe this was a sign to try to bring your old broken down Hyundai to life. Much like you, maybe Bessie still had some kick in her and had just stalled. Pausing to listen a dull thrumming sound clicked into gear and the cabin seemed to pulse with a timid heartbeat once again. You glanced at your dimly lit cell phone by the bedside table. Stuffing your feet into your snow boots you checked the phone’s reception. Dead.

Everything felt like it was disintegrating. You thanked your lucky stars you were with Marc…Agent Marc…Agent Pike, but what if your subconscious was right? Pike would never place you in any harm, but it was clear you had worn out your welcome. You were both going your separate ways, and that was that. Maybe we don’t know each other very well at all, you paused, wondering how you were going to extricate your Californian self from this Snowpocalypse of 2024. You felt like Sally from “The Nightmare Before Christmas”, pining after a love that was never going to come to fruition. Maybe you WERE that wilting version of Donna Reed in a snood, trapped in a reality that never seemed to mirror the deepest of your desires. It was time to face the music and bring this Hallmark Movie to an anticlimactic conclusion. Just another Christmas alone. You took a deep breath, resolving to exit Marcus’ life as quickly as you had entered it. Roll credits.

Pike was rummaging around the supply closet for a flashlight upon hearing the telltale squeak of the upstairs bedroom’s opening door. You squinted as the light hit your gaze unceremoniously, covering your eyes confusedly. “What’s going on?” you slurred a bit, stumbling down the first few steps. Pike lurched forward with a hand outstretched.

“God, be careful!” he raced up the stairs, taking hold of your elbow and easing you down the stairwell. You ended up at the bottom of the stairs, more confused than ever. Were you still drunk? The television twinkled softly amidst the glowing firelight, but the room felt disorienting at best. You rubbed your eyes sleepily, attempting to form some cohesive, dawning thoughts.

“I’m okay, just waking up…” you blinked rapidly, jumping at the scratching sounds above your head and across the nearby windows. “What was that?” you asked in hushed tones, adrenaline pumping through your system like a shot.

“The storm has really picked up since…you went to bed” he cautioned, drawing his arm around your back to steady you. “I think we’re okay, but those trees are a bit closer to the cabin than I’d like. Annnnnd…I think the power lines are down” he trailed off, hoping to keep you relatively calm and safe. “The generator kicked in, but it hasn’t been in use all year. I don’t feel great about our…situation” Pike pondered, always the man of preparation.

Your eyes widened in concern, wondering how long you could last if the storm continued to intensify. “Can we call for help? I don’t have any reception. What should we do next?”.

“I tried the landline in the study, nothing is getting through yet. I’m gonna head out for a bit and check the generator to see its condition” Pike reached for his jacket, but kept his hand around your waist in solidarity. You reached towards him imploringly, freezing slightly at the unexpected revelation.

“Is that a gun?” you whispered, suddenly quivering with more than the cold. You heard the soft smile in Pike’s voice, viewing his flickering countenance in the relative dark.

“I suppose being an agent on the Art Squad isn’t that dangerous, but it IS standard issue. Just taking extra precautions, there could be wildlife that were disturbed by the storm, or other stranded motorists. I’ve got to keep you safe. I mean, keep everybody safe…” he was rubbing your back in circles as you swayed from side to side. You were feeling overwhelmed, off-kilter, and vulnerable. What kind of assistance could you possibly be in a challenging situation like this? You swallowed dryly, attempting to focus on the firelight and form a cohesive thought.

“Wait, what? Heading outside? Now?!” you began to panic slightly, grabbing at Pike’s forearm. “I don’t want to be by myself! What if we can’t contact anyone? What if you get lost in the blizzard?” your mind began to race with possibility as you felt your throat tightening with emotion. Not alone. Not again. The pandemic came racing back with all of its isolation and feelings of helplessness. Pike paused, considering the options.

“Okay, just stay behind me and don’t let go of my hand, alright?” he grasped your shoulder good-naturedly, drawing his hand up to cup your face and finding a few stray tears. “Hey, what’s this?” he drew you into his body for a close embrace, allowing you to sniffle into his chest timidly. “We’re okay” he swayed with you from side to side, rubbing your back and holding you at the neck comfortingly.

“I’m just…so sorry…for earlier” you mumbled into his chest, feeling your fatigue catching up with you. Pike pulled back, his intentionality apparent even in the void like expanse of these challenging circumstances. The fire flickered dimly in the corner adding a serene warmth to the soft smile on his face. He sighed heavily, wiping his thumb in a circular motion across your cheek tenderly. “There’s…more to say” he began, until more limbs and twigs were crashing and scraping across the nearby windows. “At this rate, I’m not sure any of us are going to be leaving tomorrow” he gulped, taking your hand in his and heading towards the door. “This Christmas is turning into a nightmare, but I’m getting us to the finish line come hell or high water” he promised, flinging the door open and bracing you both against the moderate winds.

The blast of cold air nearly knocked you over in one fell swoop, as you gripped Pike’s hand with determination. It was as though you had been plunged into a full body ice bath, as the tingling, numbing sensation of the winds whipped through your hair and very being. You had a sudden clarity of purpose and renewed energy. Squinting into the snowy winds, you blearily identified the small wood shed about fifty feet away. The wind had cleared the snow a bit, but stray detritus and tree limbs were strewn around the tundra as Pike pulled you forward ambitiously.

“Let’s go!” he shouted over the din of the intense winds, cutting a path to the woodshed, in search of the enclosed generator. “Be careful!” he advised, gripping you tightly around the waist, attempting to shield you from the blizzard which was steadily increasing by the minute. You pursed your lips doggedly, determined to be of assistance. Looking behind you, you saw Bessie the Hyundai, shivering in the cold, her front windshield had been cracked and indented by a falling tree limb. Somehow seeing her forlorn condition, increased your own, as the two of you hobbled to the nearby woodshed, desperate for a solution. Stumbling to the doorway, Pike flung the door of the woodshed open as billows of smoke came cascading out. You fell backwards in surprise, a hard blanket of snow somewhat cushioning your fall as Pike grasped at your arm securely. “Well, that’s not good!” he shouted, motioning you to stay seated as he waved the billows of smoke helplessly. “No way this is gonna last much longer!” he yelled over the din of blistering maelstrom. “I know it hasn’t been used for ages, but I was at least hoping…” a skittering sound interrupted his query as he reached for his gun quickly.

“Jesus Christ” Pike muttered, dragging you backwards and positioning you along the outside corner of the woodshed. “Stay here” he cautioned before you had a chance to argue. You saw Pike’s athletic silhouette poised on the adjacent corner, gun outstretched protectively. He disappeared from sight as you held your breath hesitantly. The winds were like a steely hand, gripping your insides and swirling with a wintery menace. You sat tentatively, bracing yourself against the wooden fixture.

“Pike?” you called, steadily becoming more and more terrified as the moments lapsed. One. Two. Three…you thought back on your therapeutic training. Take stock of your five senses. What do you see? All I can see is snow. I can’t even see my hand in front of my face, you thought. Four. Five. What do you smell? Coughing slightly, the arid bite of billowy smoke tickled your nasal passages. Six. Seven. What do you feel? I feel scared dammit, you retorted, crying out again. “Pike?”

Only the winds answered you.

What can you touch? You clasped your hands together for warmth, pining after the handhold you’d sacrificed with Pike’s temporary absence. You blew into your cupped hands for warmth. Eight. Nine.…What can you…?

“Holy hell!” Pike yelled as you heard a furious wrestling sound and then a gunshot echo in the howling winds.

“PIKE!!!!????” you screamed, covering your face in fear and tucking your body, wrapping your arms around your knees. Oh my God. You couldn’t move. You couldn’t see anything. You couldn’t feel anything. You were numb. You were nothing. You were completely alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. You rocked back and forth trying to catch your breath. “Pike. Pike. Pike. Pike” you whispered against the howling winds. You couldn’t form a thought, the world was swirling around you confusedly. You weren’t even human. A cry began to mangle at the epicenter of your sternum, radiating into your body as you sobbed hysterically. “Pike. Pike. Pike. Pike”.

Strong arms grasped you at the shoulders, shaking you ever so slightly as your head whipped up to see Marcus’ face pressed close to yours in concern. His lips were moving, but you couldn’t hear anything. You found yourself strangely disassociated, marveling at the pink in his cheeks and the snowflakes dotting his beautiful eyelashes. Not alone. Together. Pike. You and Pike. You smiled numbly, your head lolling back with exhaustion. Pike was shouting into your face, and you were smiling. Just smiling. What a nice Christmas, you thought bizarrely as Pike pulled you to your feet. You immediately collapsed into his arms as the world circled around in a vortex of cold and ice. What a nice Marcus, you thought haphazardly, feeling yourself caged against his broad chest and floating back towards the cabin. You began to hear the crunch of the snow underneath his feet, and the beating of his heart wildly against his chest. Such a pretty Christmas, you sighed, nuzzling into him for warmth and hearing the door slam behind you both abruptly. Pike laid you down on the couch as you watched him with bleary cheer, tossing more firewood into the hearth and returning to you in one quick motion.

Pike ran his hands fixedly over your entire body, looking for any injuries or wounds, as you grinned dopily, your senses quickly rushing back in arousal.

“Can you sit up?” Pike spoke, as though from another room, as your hearing started to focus on the low tones of his concerned voice.

“What?” you slurred, sitting up hesitantly and swaying with the effort. Pike ran his fingers over your scalp and down your arms, attempting to assess the situation. “Keep breathing, I’m gonna get you some water” Pike placed his hand over your sternum concernedly, quickly disappearing into the kitchen. Your thoughts were still blurry as you wondered at the magical fire crackling before you. At least one thing was aiding your survival, you mused, chewing your bottom lip numbly and placing your head between your legs weakly. You tried to take deep, centering breaths. What was going on?

“Damn!” you heard the shuddering of the pipes from the kitchen and Pike’s muted tones as he returned quickly to the living room, kneeling in front of you. “The pipes are frozen, I think” Pike complained, rubbing his hands over your arms and legs and bringing your gaze up to meet his. “Are you okay? How do you feel?” Pike swallowed dryly, looking intently into your eyes. Without thinking you flung yourself into Pike’s embrace, suddenly cognizant enough to grasp the recent chain of events. He gripped you firmly in a bear hug, swaying you gently from side to side. “Thought I lost you there for a second” he chuckled, rubbing your back warmly.

“Goddamit, Marcus!” you mumbled, pushing against his chest aggressively and falling back to the couch with exhaustion. Pike placed his hands on your knees, furrowing his brow with concern.

“I’m fine” he observed, taking off his jacket and hovering at your knees. “Did you hit your head? Are you cold?” he gazed back at the fire and looked above him as a creaking sound split the night air forebodingly.

“What the hell was that?!” you yelled, sitting up unsurely and gripping the collar of his shirt. “I thought….I thought….I don’t know what I thought!!!!” you acquiesced, gripping your hands tightly around his neck and pulling him towards you. Pike rested his forearms on your thighs, bringing his forehead lightly to yours and breathing for a moment.

“I’m here. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere” he rhythmically repeated, willing your breathing to slow, while taking stock of the situation. “It kind of freaked me out, too” he whispered. “I know animals will sometimes seek out shelter in a blizzard, but the timing couldn’t be worse…” the cabin creaked again as though in confirmation. You tried to focus on Marcus’ lips as he spoke. What beautiful lips. You’d never noticed how plush they were. So soft. And kissable. You thought back on the disastrous, if not exciting events of the previous night. Sweet. His lips actually tasted sweet. You licked yours hungrily.

“I think we caught the little guy nibbling at the power cables” Pike paused dragging his hand over your forehead with care. “Why are you looking at me like that? Are you sure you didn’t hit your head?” his voice was still echoing strangely as you blinked heavily. He shook his head continuing undauntedly, “I don’t know much about generators, but I’m assuming we don’t want them smoking like a barbecue pit” Pike chuckled nervously as you reached up to delicately finger the snowflakes in his hair. He closed his eyes contentedly, trying to steady himself. “I haven’t been that scared in ages!” he twitched with self deprecation. “I sort of caught ‘Meeko’, unannounced. He sure didn’t take it very well”, Pike sagged with relief as you ran your fingers over his scalp. Awash with confusion and exhaustion you began giggling uncontrollably.

“What? What’s so funny?” Pike grinned, opening his eyes to your tittering frame.

“Meeko?” you snickered with delight, “…like from Pocohontas? Our grand nemesis of the evening was a raccoon?” you stopped abruptly, suddenly a bit sobered. “Oh my God, did you shoot him?” you gulped, unzipping the snowsuit a bit, to defrost.

Pike shrugged comedically. “Contrary to popular belief, the Art Squad is not the Firing Squad” he jested, “I think he scared me more than I scared him. He definitely ran off in to the woods, but we are none the safer” he glanced towards the kitchen in defeat, pausing to strategize.

“Let me think out loud for a second, my mind is swimming” he reasoned, carefully standing and rubbing his forehead tiredly. “The generator is nearly gone, Bessie is officially out of commission. Landlines are down, as is our cell phone reception. We’ve still got some food, which we could chill outdoors if necessary, but the pipes are frozen. I mean, we’re literally surrounded by snow and we could just melt some of it if things get desperate. But who knows how long the generator will last, and this fire is our main source of warmth. I guess we could burn the Christmas Tree if we ran out of fire wood?” Pike heaved a hefty sigh of defeat, looking at the formerly homey symbol of holiday cheer, now figuratively going up in flames. “But at least you’re not going anywhere this Christmas Eve” Pike tried to focus on that silver lining, peering up at the ceiling with apprehension as the winds only increased their fervor.

Your addled mind flashed on your earlier nightmare, wincing at the nearly clairvoyant similarity. It seemed that one minute you couldn’t wait to stay, and now both of you were desperate to somehow find a way out. “Sounds like YOU might be the one who’s leaving me” you pouted, finally willing to confront the REAL nightmare that neither of you had addressed. Pike sighed heavily, casting his eyes to the floor in disappointment.

“Look, about that…” he began as you stood to your feet unsteadily, trying to even the playing field.

“Why in the world didn’t you say so, Agent Pike?” you teetered precariously as the room seemed to shift diagonally, bracing a hand against the couch for assistance. “How could you let me think…or why didn’t you…” realizing that once again you were at a loss for words. Why was it so hard for you to connect the dots? The pandemic had deprived you of human connection, communication…LOVE! Your life felt like it was in shambles, separate and alone, and Pike’s permanent departure was just one more example of that. Even in a blizzard you couldn’t get anyone to stay!

“Agent Pike? Are we using our Christian names now?” Marcus teased, attempting to lighten the mood after the adrenaline infused hijinks.

“Come on, I’m serious! I feel terrible for making assumptions about…you…and me…or us…or Donna Reed…” you trailed off, stumbling around the room slightly trying to assemble your thoughts cohesively.

“Hey, maybe you should sit down” Pike cautioned, extending a hand and beginning to follow you around the room tentatively. “Please, let me explain, I WANT to explain. When you kissed me last night…”…

“This is SO typical of me” you rambled, pacing in circles as the blizzard howled around you outside. “I finally become the hero of my own story and I can’t even land the guy for heaven sakes!” you protested, unzipping your snowsuit a bit further in the warmth of the fireplace. “I have main character energy!” you shouted as Pike nodded affirmatively “MAIN CHARACTER ENERGY!” you repeated, rubbing at your temples confusedly.

“You do!” Pike encouraged, following along behind you like a woebegone puppy, his hand placed gently at your back to ensure you didn’t fall over. “VERY Kate Winslet!” he supported, moving the small side table out of your way so you didn’t trip over it.

“And the moment I take matters into my own hands…” you whirled in place, gripping Pike by the collar and shaking him emphatically, “you slip right from my grasp!” you collapsed your hips against his, looking up into those glowing, chocolate-colored orbs of light.

“I’m here! You’ve got me” he rasped, holding you at the waist and inching his face closer to yours imploringly.

“No I don’t!” you huffed, beginning your pacing again with Pike in tow. “Now you’re headed off to Washington D.C, and our perfect Christmas is RUINED!” you emphasized for greater effect. “I don’t even have a gift for you! And whyyyy didn’t you tell me?” you whined falling back against Pike’s chest dramatically and slumping slightly against him. Pike propped you up by your elbow, gripping you around the waist supportively.

“Will you please sit down? Something feels off….I’m feeling off” Pike was trying to make sense of everything, but it was difficult with this splitting headache. Had the lack of sleep finally caught up with him? He didn’t even have any Merlot last night, why was everything so distorted?

You pushed away from him, swaying haphazardly in confusion. Now there were…TWO Pikes standing in front of you. Oh well, now you could TWICE as mad! The cabin groaned forcefully as the room seemed to lurch forward and back. “You know, I could really like…BOTH of you if you’d just give me a chance!” you tried to point an accusatory finger at the pair of them as Pike’s image blurred before you.

“I want to! I want more! I want YOU but…GEEZ…my head in pounding right now. Do you have a headache, too?” the Pikes curiously questioned, reaching back to steady themselves at the fireplace hearth and pinching the bridge of their noses with fatigue.

“I ought to after this nightmare!” you unzipped your snow suit all the way to your waist revealing your sparkling pink bra and fanning your face heatedly. Why the hell was it always so hot?

A dull cracking sound echoed outside as a heavy branch split through the living room window blasting an icy gale of wind through the epicenter of your conversation. Pike shielded his eyes, staggering towards you, grabbing you by waist and pulling you in.

“Careful Pink! Are you okay?” Pike shouted over the din of chaos, bringing both hands to the sides of your face and looking into the dazed expression that was mirrored back.

“I don’t feel so good…” you mumbled, your knees buckling beneath you, crumpling to the ground as Pike cradled your body to the floor. Shielding you against the wind he drew his fingers lightly across your forehead, trying to clear strands of hair away from your eyes. The two Marcus’ coalesced into one image that flickered before you like a dimming television screen before separating again into mirage like images of apprehension.

“Pink? Pink….?” his voice began to distance itself into the dull recesses of your mind as a high pitched whine moved towards the forefront. You reached up to touch his lips tenderly.

“Merry Christmas…” you droned, feeling your body simultaneously feather light and anvil heavy, wishing you had the strength to kiss him once again.

“Stay with me, Pink…” Pike’s voice vanished into an echoing chasm while your thoughts muted to a single pin prick of enlightenment.

What a beautiful nightmare, you mused…before the entire world went dark.

*thanks @unknown-till for the cool dividers!

Happy Halloween Pirate Pedge!

Oh my! With the boopage wars I quite nearly forgotten our Halloween Poll for Pedge's costume! 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 in this bizarre Halloween RPF

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!

Frankie's Favorites

I love combining reality with fantasy, and while I'm sure this isn't a new Tumblr concept, I'm going to be cataloguing our Pedro Boys as per Pedge's suggestions! All playlists will attempt to utilize music or groups that Pedro Pascal has referenced at some point. Get your headphones and enjoy! Don't forget to check out our fic "Moody Frankie", and listen along!

Triggers: music may involve profanity and adult topics, short description of character's interactions with music, smut

Pedge's Jukebox

Frankie's Favorites (Spotify)

*Frankie, who absolutely MUST listen to his favorites when making his famous chili. He says it adds the real spice. This is the only dish he can actually make, other than peanut butter and jelly. *Contrary to popular belief Frankie hates to fly with music. He says it distracts him from important vibrations and the feel of the wind flux. *Always enjoys listening to music while making love, but keeps it at a low volume so he can draw your moans and sighs above it. *If given enough beers or whiskey will become JUST bold enough to join you on the dance floor, drink in hand, barely swaying, eyes closed, one hand on your waist. *Cannot sing to save his life, but is somewhat adept at drumming. Took some lessons in high school, but never pursued. What can we say? The man has good rhythm. *Can occasionally be dragged to the random concert, so long as he gets to go with you. He pretends to enjoy the band onstage, but he’s secretly looking at you whenever he can. *Enjoys rap because it reminds him of military cadence and structured life. Anything that gives him stability feels like a plus, and that includes you. *Always wanted to start a big family, but is unsure if he can measure up. Has even gone so far as to imagine the music played at his wedding, but will probably never share with anyone. *Occasionally drawn into a living room slow dance, if cajoled. Needs no music whatsoever, and prefers silence.


*thanks @thecutestgrotto for the cool dividers!

Maxwell's Music

I love combining reality with fantasy, and while I'm sure this isn't a new Tumblr concept, I'm going to be cataloguing our Pedro Boys as per Pedge's suggestions! All playlists will attempt to utilize music or groups that Pedro Pascal has referenced at some point. Get your headphones and enjoy!

Triggers: music may involve profanity and adult topics, short description of character's interactions with music, smut, this short includes references to death and parental relationship, as per the character's arc in Wonder Woman 1984

Pedge's Jukebox

Maxwell's Music

*Maxwell Lord is all 80’s all the time. He thinks he’s one of the cool kids, but doesn’t realize his…seasoned maturity… *Wakes up at 5am to take a power walk around the neighborhood. Grabs his green juice and pops over to the gym to enjoy the playlist and pump some iron before heading over to work. *On weekends, when he has him, Maxwell Lord is not only determined to teach his son Alistair the important points of business management, but he also imparts the backstory of his favorite bands in an effort to bond…That is, when he remembers… *In the evenings, Maxwell grabs a late night espresso to head to the gym for a repeat visit. He blares the music as loudly as possible and envisions his monetary empire growing exponentially *Doesn’t have time for relationships after the divorce, but will occasionally frequent the local Strip Club for a quickie with his favorite gal “Pussycat” (sexy time with a sexy gal to sexy music) *Absolutely hates silence at the office and around the house. Wants to bombard himself with sound and fury and activity all the time, to avoid thinking about his failures… *During his lunch, will break out his Casio Walkman and allows the music to “pump him up” *Didn’t want to attend his father’s funeral, so he sent money to cover the expense, and then went to work. Didn’t tell anyone about the death but shed a few tears listening to “When Doves Cry”. Promptly decided to never think on it again. *Upon reunion with his son, has vowed to turn over a new leaf and make that relationship his priority. Wonders what his son’s favorite music is, and can’t wait to listen to it…

*thanks @strangergraphics-archive for the cool dividers!

My Darling Muse (vi),

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...

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

MY DARLING MUSE,

WHO AM I WITHOUT YOU, IN THIS VAST JUNGLE OF EXISTENCE? AM I THE SUPPLE FEMININE, NAKED AND UNAFRAID? AM I THE WILD OF THE UNKNOWN? WATCHING AND WAITING TO POUNCE? AM I HUNTER OR PREY? DO I WATCH OR AM I OBSERVED? DO I LANGUISH IN WAIT? TREMBLING FOR YOUR CAPTIVITY? OR DO I STALK YOU IN THE FOREST OF FOREVER? CAST YOUR NET OVER ME ENTRAP ME WITH YOUR WILES ENSNARE ME WITH YOUR HOOK OF DESIRE SINK YOUR CARNIVOROUS TEETH OF PASSION SUCK THE MARROW DRY CHEW ON THE BONES OF MY YEARNING DEFLOWER ME IN THE FOREST LIKE A LION, RIP MY WILLING HEART TO PIECES FOR I AM AN ENDANGERED SPECIES AND AM ONLY PRESERVED BY THE CAPTURE OF YOUR HEART IMPRISONED AND LIBERATED FOR EVERY ANIMALISTIC LONGING

*listed in the margins: Baby goats; defense in the wild? Do insects mate for life? Which animals are bi? Research Luxury Jungle Retreat, Is Ayahuasca grown locally? Is that couch available at Ikea?

Hey folks! This is J, Dieter's PA. Dieter has gone animalistic this week, and is exploring all things Jungl-ian, including Zodiac Signs. One of his favorite pieces is Rousseau's Jungle Series which he has taken to paint in the hallways, with his own...questionable additions. His good friend and fellow actor Pedro Pascal has also recommended the Nobel Prize winning novel "Drive Your Plow Over the Bones of the Dead" by Olga Tokarczuk. He is currently determined to appear in the live action movie...as a deer, and has invested in a home salt-lick. I for one, have experienced some of the benefits of this devolution into his more base animalistic tendencies, and I have no complaints. Yes, D I will come lie with you on the bear skin rug and tap into our inner beast. Sorry folks, I gotta go...I've managed to stymie his purchase of the local alpaca farm, but I'm not sure how long that will hold. Wish me luck....

*Rousseau classic with unfortunate additions by Dieter

*thank you @thecutestgrotto for the cool dividers!

Pedro-Tober #4

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, look at these amazing artists! Also, it's the last week to "Trick or Treat"! Hit me up!

20.) Frankie Morales IG: VanessaDraws, "Moody Frankie" @pedges-world

21.) Curls @norththelemon

22.) Gladiator @southparkpedro

23.) Din Jarin IG: Tealspy

24.) Sundance IG: Vanessa Draws

25.) Javier Pena IG: Junes.Pegasus, Afterglow Series @pedges-world

Series Masterlist

Max's Mix Spotify

I love combining reality with fantasy, and while I'm sure this isn't a new Tumblr concept, I'm going to be cataloguing our Pedro Boys as per Pedge's suggestions! All playlists will attempt to utilize music or groups that Pedro Pascal has referenced at some point. Get your headphones and enjoy!

Triggers: music may involve profanity and adult topics, short description of character's interactions with music, smut

Pedge's Jukebox

Max's Mix: Spotify

*Max Phillips, who has had the same playlist for the last decade and still listens to it on his i-pod *Feels that recent music lacks the passion and conviction of music from the past  *For his next adjustment as Chief of Operations will offer an office-wide mandate to remove on-site music, video games, and personal phone usage during business hours *If possible, would prefer to turn a subject while listening to Beastie Boys, but if not available, enjoys the sounds of licking, sucking and gasping to absolute silence *When possessed of an unalterable mindset, will sometimes listen to “Kiss” by Prince and take a hot shower until he has an opportunity to satiate his bloodlust *Before his metamorphosis, participated in a collegiate band ironically called “The Bloodsuckers”. Even though Max doesn’t play any instruments, he enjoyed bossing the musicians as company manager *Actually enjoys listening to the elevator music that plays at the office

Don't forget to check out our recent Max fic "Bloodsucking Witch", and drop by to "Trick or Treat"! We love Spooky Season ALMOST as much as Max does...

*thanks @thecutestgrotto for the cool dividers!

Pena's Playlist Spotify

I love combining reality with fantasy, and while I'm sure this isn't a new Tumblr concept, I'm going to be cataloguing our Pedro Boys as per Pedge's suggestions! All playlists will attempt to utilize music or groups that Pedro Pascal has referenced at some point. Get your headphones and enjoy!

Triggers: music may involve profanity and adult topics, short description of character's interactions with music, smut

Pedge's Jukebox

Pena's Playlist (Spotify)

*Pena who listens to music on the way to stressful DEA ops to distract himself *Rolls his eyes every time “La Bamba” comes on the radio, but mindlessly taps his foot regardless *Sits in the corner at the annual family potluck, listening to music and wishing he had someone to dance with *Endlessly annoyed with the elevator music playing at the DEA offices *Three whiskeys in at the bar, deluged with cigarette smoke and already horny *Favorite playlist for making love so he can sync his rhythm with song of choice *Blares the music loudly to cover sexy time sounds; NOT SUCCESSFUL *Can’t hold a melody to save his life, but can occasionally be found post coital in the shower, humming to himself in the steam *Loves hearing you sing under your breath in the kitchen as you prepare Ajaco. Secretly reminds him of his mother, but he will never say so

*thanks @strangergraphics-archive for the cool dividers!

WIP Wednesday

WIP Wednesday. Um, who do I think I am having SIX open series at the same time? Well, whatever. Much like our guy, I try not to censor myself.

Who Wants to Trick or Treat?

Pike's Place; New Episode Halloween

Pedro-Tober

My Darling Muse

Pedge's Jukebox

Outside of one musical in high school, I'm fairly certain Pedge is not a self-proclaimed musician. HOWEVER, as a professional musician myself I can't help but notice that doesn't seem to stop him from vocalizing every chance he can and I am EUPHORIC. I love combining reality with fantasy, and while I'm sure this isn't a new Tumblr concept, I'm going to be cataloguing our Pedro Boys as per Pedge's suggestions! All playlists will attempt to utilize music or groups that our beloved has referenced at some point. Get your headphones and enjoy!

My Darling Muse (v),

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...

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

*artwork by Cat Bug and OsoStudios *cool dividers by @sweetmelodygraphics

My Darling Muse,

YOU ARE THE SUN, AND I THE MOON I ENCIRCLE YOU, CASTING SHADOWS IN THE TUMULT OF EMOTION BUFFETING THE OCEANS I, THE MOODY COLD LANDSCAPE YOU, THE FIERY FLAME I LONG FOR YOUR WARM TOUCH ICY, BARREN AND ALONE WHAT DEPTHS DO YOU ILLUMINE? SUBMERGE IN MY OCEANS BATHE IN MY SEA OF TRANQUILITY MELT THE ICE HEART’S TUNDRA THE SHIFTING TIDES WILL LULL LOSING OURSELVES TO ONE ANOTHER LOST AT SEA, BUT NEVER LOST DROWNING UNTO BREATH I AM MYSTERY, IMAGINATION I AM INTUITION AND AMBIGUITY I FIND CERTAINTY IN MY ENIGMA DRAWING YOU INTO THE UNKNOWN EVER FIXED LIGHT IN THE DARK ANCHOR TO THE HARSH DAY STEP INTO THE NIGHT NAKED MOONBEAMS ALIGHT (scribbled in the margins; the moon is made of camembert, Lunar Landing; Actors needed?, Is the moon pan?, Moon Pie Ingredients?, Lunar Cycle: Impact how high I can get?)

Hey folks! This is J, Dieter's PA. Firgive any typoos, Dieter has gone nocturnal since his good friend Pedro Pascal posted about the Aries Moon and Dieter had his first reading (@firsttarotreader). Now Dieter is determined to read his own horoscope to find his long lost love/s. He wants me to share that he hasn't pooped in three days, after subsisting on a diet of entirely cheese, but it is the "sacrifice of artistry". No Dieter you cannot read my palm again, it's only been five minutes. No we would NOT get a group discount by traveling to the moon as a polycule. I gotta go folks, time for a midnight nap...

Pedro-Tober #3

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 hands full. Look at these amazing artists!

Series Masterlist

13.) Javi Gutierrez: Afterglow Fic (Phoenix Rising) @pedges-world

14.) Freebie! IG: @art_faraday

15.) The Materialists: @norththelemon

16.) Whiskey: @alyssamariag

17.) Arm Sling: IG: @amakuni_s

18.) Oberyn Martell: IG: @vanessadraws

19.) SDCC: IG @vanessadraws

Also, Pedge and I are "Trick or Treating"! DM me to play!