Moody Frankie

The One That's Personal

Triggers:

This is a WAY overshare, but if Pedge and I keep encountering all these naked bodies on Tumblr, this seems mild in comparison. Therapist Pedge has RPF vibes, but he's really just an avatar that helps me process scary or unfamiliar feelings...AND we have Pedro Pascal for everything else...A little personal chat about the asexuality spectrum, profanity, SH, pleasuring yourself, post-hysterectomy health problems, and all other things Papi Pascal....

Oh wow. Okay, leave it to Pedge and I to have a surprising sexual experience and immediately sit down to write something about it. My personal journey has been a bit meandering, but as I've discovered over my 45 years of existence, EVERYONE is on a unique journey, so I'm no more inhuman or ill-fitting then the rest of humanity.

I didn't pleasure myself until I was in my 30's, and there wasn't anything immediately pleasurable about it. It was a solid 2 weeks of trial and error, confusion and self-loathing until I discovered a buried component of myself and breathed a relative sigh of relief.

It's odd being a virgin, without a uterus or cervix...at the age of 45. I feel like a f*ckin' unicorn. While I had enjoyed a solid decade+ of pleasurable self-moments, it was pretty perfunctory. I've nurtured many a crush, but I'm not sure if there is a bridge between my physical desires of self and my emotional/spiritual desires from others. So I've started experimenting with a tentative ace label...or more accurately, a "sexy celibate"...But until I had my hysterectomy I thought I could just jam myself into the standard heterosexual, Western convention of relationships, marriage and children, receiving the emotional support and structure I wanted, while deftly sidestepping any sexual "eccentricities".

But after I had my hysterectomy everything was harder. At first I blamed my non-existent cervix, and employed more...vibrational means of enjoyment, and that was a revelation. Seriously, anyone that wants to self-experiment--Pedge and I couldn't encourage you more.

But after about a year, my pursuits started to feel more self-destructive than self-celebratory. Honestly, it felt like my SH narrative of yore, as I tried to vibrate my way into feeling human. Feeling self-acceptance? Feeling "normal". Soon, I was dealing more with pre-existing health problems and a hyptertonic pelvic floor, and all my toys went to the nearest landfill (can't donate those to Goodwill). My body was crying out for self-revelation, but I still don't always know how to give it to her.

2025 is my year-o-health and it's had a bumpy start. Four different doctors and I'm mostly making progress with my own research, extremely regimented diet and new routine. But after several weeks, I was feeling hungry in more ways than one. Maybe I had drowned out my still, small voice in such a vibrationally overwhelming and confusing world.

So my experiment resumed....with the F4 Trailer. Mind you, I didn't realize that at the time...All I can tell you is, I woke up in a foggy haze to Pedge's midrift digitally nuzzling against my tum-tum and decided I wanted more, and I f*cking got it. For the first time in my 45 years of existence I came under my own fingers, and we all have the F4 Trailer to thank for it.

That's not EXACTLY true, though that interview was a sight for sore eyes. Honestly, that overwhelming outfit of pattern and joy with the smallest bit of tummy peaking through....really just pushed me over the edge. Here is a man who seems to have joyously accepted himself and I bet I can learn how to do the same.

So here we are. Nothing has really changed. Just one, single, possibly ace, emotionally and spiritually confused level 45 human who joins the rest of the world in loving Pedro Pascal...and maybe getting one step closer to really loving themselves :)

It was very good for me.

And Pedge approves.

Pedro Scouts Glamping

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

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

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

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!

April Showers Prompt

Thank you to @auteurdelabre for our lovely coloring book! This was fun to add the lyrics of "Purple Rain" and overlay an IG filter for The Birthday Celebration! Only our guy could look this good in a storm. Thanks to @jolapeno for organizing the event, and be sure to check out the hashtag #JolapenoAprilShowers to read everyone's stories and see their artwork!

I never meant to cause you any sorrow I never meant to cause you any pain I only wanted one time to see you laughing I only wanted to see you laughing in the purple rain Purple rain, purple rain Purple rain, purple rain Purple rain, purple rain I only wanted to see you bathing in the purple rain I never wanted to be your weekend lover I only wanted to be some kind of friend, hey Baby, I could never steal you from another It's such a shame our friendship had to end

Critic's Choice

It's been so fun seeing the fashion variety at Cannes, but our guy really pulls off every look....I can't believe he hurt both shoulders consecutively in 2024, and am glad he's feeling tip top for a new awards season. Keep living your best life, mijo!

"I have been asked this question all my life and have never been able to come up with an answer. Perhaps my life would have been more complete and solid. What I am used to is that the past disappears as if it had been lived by someone else, in another time. There is very little diffference between Pedro Balmaceda and Pedro Pascal. I feel like the same person, but with back problems and more money. I am very confused trying to organize the past and see what comes of it. It helps me understand the pain or be grateful for what I have. Sometimes I feel like I'm a fraud, living between waiting for fame and attention and completely embarrassed by these wishes".

Always so amazed by his transparency that I hope inspires my own.

Thanks to @auteurdelabre for the coloring book and @pedropascalunofficial for the article reference...

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

Pedge's Fave 2024 Things A Year of 1sts

@jolapeno Started a lovely end of the year wrap on some of our artistic contributions, and I want to play too! I mentor other artists, but I still have a hard time showcasing myself. Sometimes the whole thing feels so juvenile (#selfjudgement). But I get so much out of the writing process, and one of the big things I've been learning lately is the enjoyment of Love, that comes without entitlement or possession. Just experience :) So here it is! My first writing year on Tumblr, some of the projects that healed me, and the writers who inspired them. Let's keep expressin'! Baby's first...

Get to Know Me! (started writing so many fics I had to organize!) Make Your Own Kind of Music (fanart for The Unbearable Weight...) Pike's Place (we really popped the cherry on this one...1st collab.. 1st series, 1st trope challenge, 1st Christmas, 1st trailer...final episode New Year's Day, thanks @inept-the-magnificent) @burntheedges Summer Camp (Pedro Scouts was the bomb. These were my first Tumblr activities and I learned a ton...) @goodwithcheese My Darling Muse (Dieter Bravo combines art and poetry with his personal assistant, J...sparks ensue ) temporary hiatus...D is in rehab...again Over-Protective Mom (Bitmoji Mood Board) Afterglow Series (intimacy w/ Pike, Javi, Pena...who's next?) Pedge's Jukebox (writing inspo. for other writers, short fics about Pedro characters + music) Blood Sucking Witch (getting dark w/ Max Phillips for Halloween...) Unmasked (Christmas Disaster! w/ Din Djarin) @beefrobeefcal Thanksgiving Delights (praise kink w/ hubby Marcus Moreno) Pedge's Bookshop (Last of Us Canon, Joel and J deconstruct "Crime and Punishment"...with smut lol) Dead Dove December (SH and ideation w/ Joel, mature) @romana-after-dark

Pedge approves :)

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!

Moody Lucien

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

Pedge Pose

Thank you @auteurdelabre for our beautiful coloring book, Volume Two! I love this man's sense of fashion, art and love. Included some snippets from this family interview. Always appreciative of the transparency...

"I come from the perspective that no one can decide how somone else should live their life. I think that a person has the right to live his life conservatively or wildly as long as he does not negatively impact anyone or tried to embarrass others by his lifestyle. I don't touch these issues very much, for fear of hearing their perspective. But what I do know is that if I ever needed help I could ask, and I would get it. It was a very scary period. I grew up with my family, and from one day to the next there was no home to return to. Suddenly the idea of the safe nest was gone. It was shocking because in previous years I took for granted the privileged life we had..."

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!