Pike's Place Roll-a-Trope Challenge

WIP; In Cold Blood

I think this was from "The Uninvited" press interviews, but our guy had such a scruffy, Columbo-like quality, it seemed very Rockford coded to me. The Cannes looks are so gorgeously coifed, but I also love seeing our guy at his casual best...

He seemed to feel the magnetic quality as well, and almost thinking better of it, his sudden intake of air broke the spell abruptly. “I’m going to head into the washroom first, do you need anything?” his voice had an unexpectedly tender quality as you shook your head mutely. Rockford nodded curtly before releasing your hand and meandering towards the washroom. So, he was an army man as well. So many of the boys had been drafted for World War II, but it almost seemed that the world was just realizing the extenuating repercussions more than a decade later. He must have been a kid, maybe nineteen or twenty at the time? You found yourself pensively watching his broad figure head to the bathroom before absentmindedly observing that your past was equally steeped in enigma and mystery. Rockford might be a P.I, but you weren’t sure how much of your unconventional, mid-western beginnings you wanted to divulge. You bit your lower lip hearing the shower spring to life, and couldn’t help but wonder; Perhaps there was more than one mystery to unearth here in Holcomb County, Kansas.

I am having a BLAST with Pedge's Bookshop as we delve further into our film-noir-esque fanfic of "In Cold Blood". Currently working on this next installment, "The Interviews"....

*Thank you @auteurdelabre for our beautiful coloring book!

@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

Happy Pedro Hours Bouquets of Pedro!

Gosh, I wanted to do so much more for Valentine's but here we have arrived. I DO enjoy writing for Din, as per @beefrobeefcal Christmas Prompt. But I currently have my hands full with Pedge's Bookshop "Crime and Punishment" Series completion and Din deserves our full attention. I'm not sure if it's Platonic Love or not, but I always found Din to be ace-coded, so I enjoyed some beautiful @auteurdelabre coloring + a bitty poem to celebrate this Pedro Boy. Hope you are enjoying Valentine's and all things Love! Thanks @happypedrohours for the fun activities!

Platonic Love

Come, my love, and wrap the tendrils of your soul around mine Anchor yourself to the port of my storm Reach out for me, with the Divinity within, as I reach within for You I do not tether myself to you anymore Than we are already inexorably linked I do not entitle myself to a Love already realized And if we must lie together, let’s do so quickly, As though racing towards a reality already observed Reveal yourself to me, as I already know you, So that I may better divine myself Let us layer our bodies on top of The unspeakable euphoria and horror we must endure Let us divorce ourselves from ourselves, Taking one another without judgement or force Shed your armor and step into my ocean I will encase you, enhouse you, as unto myself, Forever relinquishing and forever devouring

*thanks @dollywons for the cool dividers

@joelmillerisapunk @i-own-loki @oliveksmoked @inept-the-magnificent

Pedge's Bonfire

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

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

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

In Cold Blood; The Exposition

Grab a Latte! lounge around in the foyer with this sweet fic "Happy to Help" @itwasntimethatdidit40, before heading into the Bookshop!

Triggers: mentions of alcohol/smoking, huge spoilers for the Truman Capote classic "In Cold Blood" which is referenced A LOT, profanity, romance, common themes from 1959, slight misogyny, murder and mayhem! Enjoy....

Series Masterlist

Word Count: 3k

A seedy and polluted haze drifted over the din of the L.A. basin as Tim Rockford inhaled a slow drag from another satisfying smoke. Just another day in the life of investigation, as the gears of inspection ground down to a wearied lull. Another night for Chinese Take out, thought the P.I as he loosened the strap of his gun holster and downed the first of several whiskeys. Rockford didn’t mind being a private investigator. If pressed, he’d go so far as to say, he absolutely loved it; the adventure, the intrigue, the search for truth amidst a grimy haze of innuendo and misdirection. 

But on tired nights, such as these, he also wondered if a soft, feminine body wouldn’t cushion the loneliness. Begrudgingly extinguishing the cigarette and flicking the light switch, he grabbed his coat, poised to enter the bustling Los Angeles night life before….

A phone rang. 

HIS phone rang, in the echoing and empty office building he populated with so many others. Who would be calling at this hour? He paused but a millisecond to lift the phone receiver, anticipating the tinny crackle of an undisclosed voice.

“Tim Rockford; Private Investigator for hire”. An eerie silence permeated the landline, as Rockford sucked through his teeth with annoyance. “Look Mack, I’m on my way out, so make it quick…”. The line immediately bristled to life as a tentative, high-pitched nasal voice cut through the auditory ether.

“Tim Rockford?” the voice nonsensically repeated, as though caught in an unexpected moment. Rockford cocked his head to the side with curiosity. He wasn't often contacted by a woman, particularly this late at night.

“In the flesh” Tim answered, with softening annoyance. What was this? Rockford had some Moo Shu Pork to order before this whiskey threatened his already cranky stomach lining. Maybe egg rolls were a good idea as a chaser, he pondered, waiting for the caller to get up their gumption. “What can I do you for?” he probed, shifting his weight impatiently. 

“Tim Rockford….in Los Angeles…Tim Rockford, Private Investigator?” the voice gained a little anonymous momentum, as Tim tried to wrangle his increasing disdain.

“Look doll, I don’t care if you’ve got the zorros, but make it quick will ya? I’ve got a plate of stir fry with my name on it….” Rockford admonished, wondering if he should take his raincoat off or not.

“Yes! Yes, Mr. Rockford, forgive my hesitancy. Um….are you familiar with Holcomb? Holcomb, Kansas?” 

Rockford froze with intensity, looking around the quiet, darkened room. Of course, he’d heard of Holcomb, Kansas. The recent catastrophic four person, Clutter Family murder had painted the newspapers over the last couple weeks, and the entire investigative community was alight. Who would do such a thing in a sleepy, unassuming town? It had all the markings of a robbery gone wrong, but what could have led to such unmitigated violence? Tim’s inquisition and sense of justice was immediately heightened, but he tried to play it off as the cool cat he was.

“Plastered all over the news, paper shaker. What’s it to me?” his stomach gurgled audibly as he waited with rapt anticipation. He wanted in. This was maybe the biggest crime of the decade, and chance had potentially dropped a prime opportunity in the palm of his hand.

Another dramatic pause of introspection gripped the receiver before the voice admitted, “We need help Mr. Rockford. This case is much bigger than anyone here in Finney County can muster. It’s only a matter of time before the Kansas Bureau of Investigations comes snooping into all our business, and we want someone we can trust. You know, a man of the people…” the voice confessed.

Score.

“Alright doll, how many smackers are we talkin’?” Rockford chewed his lip with anticipation. He had just finished a recent case and there were no prospects on the horizon. Well, unless you counted the secretarial search, but a hook as large as this one would necessitate two…no…four weeks of investigation, travel and per diem. Maybe even justicial glory for the taking.

“Well….we took up a little charity offering at the town hall yesterday. Managed to dig up about one hundred dollars…” Rockford rolled his eyes before draping a weary hand over his furrowed brow. One hundred dollars? That would barely cover two weeks salary, to say nothing of the cost of food and travel. He stalled momentarily, unsure of his footing as the caller placated.

“Please Mr. Rockford, I think you might be our only hope”.

Rockford held his breath, weighing the options. The pay wasn’t as enticing as he’d hoped, but the rewards would far outweigh any monetary reparations. If his moniker was attached to solving the crime of the decade, it was only a matter of time before Rockford P.I. was a household name.

“I can be there in about two days” Rockford’s gravelly voice betrayed a hint of child-like enthusiasm as the anonymous caller rattled off the important details.

“Oh thank you Mr. Rockford, P.I., sir. I can’t tell you what a boon this is for Holcomb, Kansas. We are just beside ourselves with worry” the voice pleaded as Rockford nodded with encouragement.

“Damndest thing I’ve heard of in a while” Rockford admitted. “I’ll get to work straight away. See you in a few days, Mrs.….?”….but the line went dead at the potential inquiry.

Hmmm. Not a good sign. But Rockford was already planning his next move. Grab every piece of newspaper clippings, roadmaps and literature he could get his hands on. Pack a suitcase for a few weeks in Holcomb, Kansas, hop in his trusty Ford Falcon tomorrow morning and start the arduous task of uncovering the truth in the “Clutter Family Murders”.

Now, all he needed was an egg roll, some Moo Shu Pork and a good night’s sleep. Finney County, Holcomb, Kansas….here I come.

The mellifluous voice of Frankie Avalon drifted from your record player singing the dulcet tones of “Why” as you teased your bouffant just a bit higher.

I'll never let you go Why? Because I love you I'll always love you so Why? Because you love me

You bit your lower lip, already smudging the dark red lipstick you had freshly applied. Who did you think you were, Marilyn Monroe? You were reaching for the stars, not trying to ascend to heaven with the height of your questionable hairstyle. Opting for a more humble approach, you shifted your pantyhose awkwardly as they began to ride up your ass. So much for new fashions. 

No broken hearts for us 'Cause we love each other And with our faith and trust There could be no other

You had already been to more interviews than you could count, and opportunities were starting to become scarce. For most employers money was tight, and you didn’t have an official secretarial certificate to fall back on. But you were talented, skilled, full of moxie, and today on this potentially mediocre Tuesday, that was all you needed. 

I think you're awfully sweet Why? Because I love you You say I'm your special treat Why? Because you love me

You nodded curtly at your beleaguered expression in the mirror, grabbing your coat and heading for the door.  You were determined to land this next employment, come hell or high-water, and were willing to do whatever it took. Well, ALMOST whatever it took, you noted, grabbing your thermos of coffee and heading for the bus stop. This Mr. Rockford P.I wouldn’t know what hit him, you mused, locking the door securely behind you and strutting forward confidently. At least you would try to look damn good...while you, once again, fell flat on your coifed face...

We found the perfect love Yes, a love that's yours and mine I love you and you love me I love you and you love me We'll love each other dear forever

Rockford had spent most of a sleepless night pouring over the many newspaper clippings he had accumulated about the Clutter Family Murders. Somehow the Moo Shu Pork remained relatively untouched. The trades could always be sensational, but the distinction of these reports was indicated by everything they DIDN’T say. This was a veritable bloodbath, which had done quite enough to set Tim off his much anticipated dinner. The main point of contention seemed to be the cause for such a grandiose and seemingly incomprehensible atrocity. The Clutter Family did not seem to possess extravagant monetary means. They were well-loved and admired by the town of Holcomb, Kansas; couldn’t have been more quintessentially traditional than apple pie.

What had gone wrong?

One newspaper clipping had stood out. Such was the descriptive narrative by a reporter named…Capote something…Rockford had all but obsessed on its picturesque description. 

“Until one morning in mid-November of 1959, few Americans-in fact, few Kansans had ever heard of Holcomb. Like the water of the river, like the motorists on the highway, and like the yellow trains streaking down the Santa Fe tracks, drama, in the shape of exceptional happenings, had never stopped there. The inhabitants of the village, numbering two hundred and seventy, were satisfied that this should be so, quite content to exist inside ordinary life-to work, to hunt, to watch television, to attend school socials, choir practice, meetings of the 4-H Club. But then, in the early hours of that morning in November, a Sunday morning, certain foreign sounds impinged on the normal nightly Holcomb noises on the keening hysteria of coyotes, the dry scrape of scuttling tumbleweed, the racing, receding wail of locomotive whistles. At the time, not a soul in sleeping Holcomb heard them-four shotgun blasts that, all told, ended four human lives. But afterward the townspeople, therefore sufficiently unfearful of each other to seldom trouble to lock their doors, found fantasy recreating them over and again-those somber explosions that stimulated fires of mistrust in the glare of which many old neighbors viewed each other strangely, and as strangers.”

Rockford issued a heavy sigh, dragging himself to his feet, pouring himself into the Ford Falcon and making a quick trip to the office. He rubbed the bridge of his nose with irritation and fatigue. Maybe a breakfast of whiskey and aspirin wasn’t TOTALLY out of order. He had started packing a small suitcase for the approaching trip, before realizing that most of his formative research and notes still remained at the office. Pulling into the parking lot of the building, his reliable Ford puttered to a smoky stop before Tim achingly lumbered up the stairs to his own office. Just ONE whiskey before the road. How many aspirin could you take on an empty stomach, he wondered before opening the door to find….

….the silkiest legs he had beholden in more time than he would care to admit.

The sounds of an imaginary saxophone seemed to permeate his now idling brain, as his eyes lugubriously dragged from the curving ankle up to the ironed skirt, and finally resting on the mischievous expression of an unknown female.

“Mr. Rockford, I presume?” you stood, outstretching a well-manicured hand into the dumbly, overstimulated countenance of a somewhat befuddled and handsomely disheveled private investigator.

“Ummmmm….” he stalled, simultaneously looking around the office to make sure nothing untoward lay in a public place. 

“I’m here for the secretarial interview” you immediately offered, as he kicked the door shut behind him, holding your hand tentatively in his surprisingly tender grasp.

A spark of acknowledgement flitted through his mind scape as he reconsidered the logic of a whisky chaser with breakfast. Damn. What a doll. Shame that I can’t investigate further, he lamented, dropping your hand with immediate chagrin and bustling about the office haphazardly.

“Look sweetheart, I don’t mean to be rude, but I’m just on my way out with an important case. I’m sorry the agency wasted your time, but I’ve got little to no time for a person of your….skill” Rockford seemed to be bumbling with his words as he gathered the important documents and research loosely in his grasp. Your expression immediately fell with disappointment before morphing into a confident transformation.

“I’m not with an agency!” you piped up, starting to organize his desk, such as it were, and placing a smelly, used cigar in the nearby wastebasket. “I’m a go-getter, and a single gal of wit and resource. Looks like you could use all the help you can get!” you blurted out enthusiastically, grabbing the pile of papers from Rockford’s surprised hold and smoothing them into an organized pile. “Now if you’ll just show me where the typewriter is, I can get to work on notating this important case of yours” you insisted, nearly shoving him to the side and plopping down in the main office chair as it squeaked with impetulance.

Tim smiled ruefully to himself, opening the side drawer that revealed assorted contents of handcuffs, pencils, paperclips and aspirin. Well weren’t you a fire starter? Typical redhead. He winced with regret, massaging the back of his neck with discomfort. Get ahold of yourself, fella; no time for night time fantasies in the day. Just let her down easy and head towards the next steps of your future. “Look Miss….?”

“You can call me Red” you offered definitively, beginning to rifle through Rockford’s drawers in order to appear decisive, but gasping ever so slightly upon discovering what appeared to be a spare revolver in the lower chest. Clearing your throat immediately you sallied forth, brushing past his broad shoulders and beginning to organize the disastrously unkempt file cabinets in desperation. 

You could NOT lose this job opportunity. You would do whatever it took…and this Mr. Rockford could just get on board sooner rather than later. Rockford stood smiling behind you, with a knowing agitation. Maybe he could employ your services after the case, but it wasn’t going to be easy to throw you off of his scent. Maybe intimidation was the key...

“Familiar with the Clutter Family Murders?” he all but interrogated, reaching over to slam the file cabinet shut, a puff of air displacing your auburn locks and eliciting a fast flourish of your feather-like eyelashes.

“Of course” you lied. It’s possible you had read something fleeting in the local newspapers, but most of your attention had been focused on securing a new job as fast as was humanly possible. It had been a long trek to L.A. and you weren’t enthusiastic about returning to your mid-western roots, with your tail between your legs. Determined to make something of yourself in the City of Angels, you stared back at Rockford with what you hoped was a steely gaze of determination. Rockford’s glance lowered ever so quickly to the plump, reddish hue of your lipsticked mouth. 

Damn. “Look doll…I mean…Red…I don’t know the intricacies of this case, I’ve only just started. But based on the trades, the scene is about as colorful as that perky nickname of yours. Not easy fixin’s for the eyes of a lady, to say nothing of a doll….” Rockford bluntly stated, as a thin shade of embarrassment crept up your neck and into your cheeks.

Damn. “Mr. Rockford, I don’t know how many ‘dolls’ you’ve employed in the past, but I am no shrinking violet” you tried to quell the slight tremor that laced your voice. Probably just…the excitement of a new job opportunity. “I am more than capable of fulfilling any secretarial duties, whether the crime is polite or not” you nodded curtly, perhaps in an attempt to convince even yourself. Rockford gazed at you appraisingly with a degree of skepticism.

“I can’t pay you…much” Tim muttered, hesitantly considering the options before him. This was quite possibly the biggest case he had ever been invited to solve, and it didn’t escape him that he might need all the help he could get—even from a distracting broad like you. Your visage shifted ever so slightly with the changing balance of power.

“I’m very interested in gaining more experience” you blurted out a bit too quickly before confidently placing your hands on your hips. “I can type 60 words per minute and make a darn good cup of joe”. Almost as an afterthought you raced around the desk, grabbing your purse for the plaid thermos, unscrewing the top and hefting it under Rockford’s nose. Tim tilted his head to the side with cynicism.

“Travel per diem might be in order….” he considered, taking the thermos tentatively and sniffing with curiosity. This was better than whiskey. Or….better WITH whiskey, he sipped slowly at first, eventually draining the entire draught. Your mouth dropped with surprise at this new information.

“Travel?” you dumbly repeated, dropping the purse on the nearby chair and attempting not to sink down on top of it. What the hell? You had barely been in L.A one month and had yet to fully understand the transit system. Was your first job in this new life, already tearing you away from it? “Travel to where??” you doubled down, stubbornly unwilling to let go of this tantalizing opportunity just within your grasp.

“Holcomb, Kansas of course!” Rockford wiped his mouth with the back of a speckled hand, returning the thermos and now rifling through the drawers once again. Aspirin. Revolver. Binoculars….He begrudgingly thought better of actually retrieving the “breakfast whiskey”.

“KANSAS?!” the word escaped from your mouth like an accusation, trying to pin him down with incredulity and meeting his gaze with unadulterated surprise. “When?”

“That’d be now, sweets” Rockford offered, nodding curtly and lumbering out the door with a handful of files and assorted necessities as you looked around the office helplessly.  “Either way, thanks for the coffee, you’re a real doll. Meet you back here in an hour if you’re game. Otherwise, I’ll be seein’ ya…” his voice drifted down the hall as you stood with mouth agape.

He must be joking. Within thirty minutes of meeting Rockford P.I. you had a possible job, the promise of adventure and intrigue, and a questionable road trip with a man you hardly knew. What could possibly go wrong?

“Does that mean I’ve got the job?” you questioned, receiving no answer whatsoever and hearing a car puttering to life outside.

Well not if you just stand there, Red, you mused, gathering your things and taking one final glance around the office. “Catch you on the flip side!” you muttered to no one in particular, racing down the hallway and running towards the nearest bus stop. If you hurried, you could just make it.

Exactly one hour later, you felt ridiculous. Standing on the corner, with a small, humble suitcase, you felt like Little Orphan Annie. You bit your lower lip in frustration. If William could see you now, he would be laughing his ass off. You brushed the self-deprecating thought aside. Well, William isn’t here now, and it’s up to you. You heard the sound of the sputtering Ford Falcon before seeing it, as a smoky plume drifted into your peripheral view and Rockford P.I. loomed large before parking the car just beside you, the engine idling loudly.

“Wasn’t sure you’d come, Red” he smiled, opening the passenger door, and gesturing to the back. “Glad you packed light! Hoist it in the back will ya?” It seemed you had passed the point of no return, as you hefted your small suitcase atop boxes of newspapers, a small typewriter, baseball bat and other assorted mysteries. You hesitated just a moment before wiping down the dusted passengers seat and noting the myriad of cigarettes populating the nearby ash tray.

“How ‘bout it doll? Ready for an adventure?” Rockford asked rhetorically, before the engine roared to life in response. Your answer died quickly on your lips before settling in your stomach with a heaviness that betrayed the fluttering curiosity in your chest. Only one way to find out…

@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

The Last of Us

Went a little old school today. Negotiating my health challenges, and hoping The Tumblr doesn't crash. Super excited about Season 2 of the Last of Us coming out this Sunday, but might need to watch after the fact. If you're looking for a fix until then, check out my "Crime and Punishment; Last of Us" hybrid I wrote for Pedge's Bookshop. I'm really proud of the series and it sets us at the doorstep of Season 2. Check it out!

Until then, "endure...and survive..."

“We sometimes encounter people, even perfect strangers, who begin to interest us at first sight, somehow suddenly, all at once, before a word has been spoken.” “Don’t be overwise; fling yourself straight into life, without deliberation; don’t be afraid - the flood will bear you to the bank and set you safe on your feet again.” “the most offensive is not their lying—one can always forgive lying—lying is a delightful thing, for it leads to truth—what is offensive is that they lie and worship their own lying…”

Moody Witch

Ha! Okay Pedge and I wanted to try our hands at some Spooky Season Fics, so this weekend we are going to attempt our first Moody Max short. We just watched "Bloodsucking Bastards" and it was a hoot.

Also stay tuned for the Roll-a-Trope Challenge, Episode Five of "Pike's Place; Nightmare Before Christmas". Everything is starting to get intense, it's the Season of the Witch y'all!

Moody SAG Awards

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

Moody Silva

I just love these boys so much. I might try writing for them in the future, but also love the desert aesthetic...and the peach. Love the peach.

Pedro-Tober!

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

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