Moody Fall

Moody Acacius

I've got to be honest. I'm avoiding my taxes. I got an extension, but this is preposterous. But #priorities...and #pedropascal...Also, this is apparently more historically accurate, so...you're welcome...

The Uninvited

Pedge and I feel like we've been waiting forever to see this movie. It was truly unique; a searing observation about the different stages of industry performance, motherhood, regret...I was really enchanted. Kind of annoyed it didn't get the notoriety I feel it deserved. Nadia Conners has a really interesting artistic voice, I'm excited to see her do more...Well, and this guy of course...

Oh God. Really starting to understand the value of plastic surgery. Thought I was going to age well. I really did. Actually I didn’t think I was gonna age at all. The more I think about him the more he slips away from me. He used to go on wanders, and oh, I can see him. There he is at the bar. There he goes again, a vanishing shade. His smile. Down in the deep at the bottom of the ocean there lived a sparking glow fish. Alone in the dark the only light it could see was the light from its insides. Well one day it rose up through the darkness into the light and lo and behold, it saw another fish with golden scales. Oh how the sparkle fish wished it could be as bright and shiny as the golden fish. So you know what it did? It tucked its little, starry little arms into a ball. Sleep tight, little light all you wish will come this night. And he went right to sleep. It’s been a long time. I really have to do this right now before I do anything else. I’m sorry. This is gonna be harder than I thought. I have a long list and you were at the very end. Apparently I had a drinking problem, at least that’s the consensus according to the powers that be. So I went to rehab, and I realized I have all of these unresolved feelings. And you know how they say you’re stuck at the age when you started to drink problematically? For me that was 29. Rose you’re my 29. Just let me do this please. You believed in me when I didn’t believe in myself. Goddamn it I missed you. I’m sorry about all the drama. I’ve seen you out a couple times but I wasn’t ready to talk to you yet. I’m sorry. I am sorry. I’m still in love with you.

*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

Pedro Fandom Bingo Finale

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

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

Blossom Beauty, Blossom!

Pedge and I have been speaking at length about come of the recent Tumblr tiffs. While I am resolutely holding my own (#cough-lies), Pedge is an open book and has spent many an evening requiring copious cuddle time, chocolate chip cookies and sniffles. Luckily, we are up for the task! But I wanted to send a quick thanks to @millersflowermarket and @positivelypedro for their stellar work in focusing on the positive. Pedge might not be a registered therapist, but he ALWAYS provides me with some interesting insights...

In our PB + J sessions, Pedge feels it is very important to stick together ala "The One With Pedge and Jett" and "The One with Pedge and Queen Beef". I had come across some peripheral postulations, but Pedge was feeling a bit more curious and we went in search of (dun, dun, dun...)...the confessions blog (blog, blog, blog) [insert dramatic echo]. I had some hesitancy, but Pedge said to keep an open mind so we decided to give it a glance.

Oh my heavens! Pedge! Excuse me a moment this might require an emergency batch of chocolate chip cookies and face kisses. Hmmm...Pedge, if necessary, please reconnect with your somatic center by placing your hand across your chest and practicing some deep breathing (Pedge has some anxiety and who would blame him?)

I'm not 100% sure what the man himself would say, but Pedge is flumoxed. This is a complete mis-representation of his stance on self expression, positivity and...cookies.

I suppose confessions have an element of personal truth that can be appropriately considered. But as an amateur therapist (yes Pedge, I will include your sexy time proclivities...)...as an amateur therapist Pedge would like me to remind us all that truth must be viewed personally, intimately and within an appropriate context. And unfortunately, this blog is none of those things.

After reminding us both that we successfully survived Jr. High, Pedge and I signed off, blocking yet another negativity...

So that took care of that, and we are obviously on the continued hunt for any additional examples of plagarism or bullying that might occur. I reminded Pedge that loving discussion can provide some insights about difficult topics. Thank you to @gasolinerainbowpuddles for a nuanced discussion of NC and the therapeutic benefits of expression and the importance of Trigger Warnings. Pedge and I similarly speak about SH, ideation, mortality and other darker subjects in pieces like "Knitting Back Together".

Life can be very painful. Sexy time can be very confusing. The exploration of Love can be so lonely, isn't that right, Pedge? But I am confident as we continue to pursue Truth, Beauty and Love in the ways that make sense for us, we will find how much we share in common, rather than the many ways we might be divided.

In closing, (as Pedge continues his deep breathing practice) he would like me to remind us all to "be good to yourself and be good to others". It's always a good time for things like flowers, Love and, of course...chocolate chip cookies.

My Darling Muse (iii),

Dieter is in LOVE. He's just not sure if he's met them yet. But in the interim, he's keeping a journal to house all of his inspiration, poetry and recipes, before they fly out of his head. And once he meets the ONE...or ONES...this is going to be his gift to you. Along with those sexy time IOU's he's always handing out...

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

Series Masterlist

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

My Darling Muse,

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

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

Pike's Place A Christmas Confection

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

Pike's Playlist

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

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

Pike's Playlist (Spotify)

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

*thanks @steadycameraroll-graphics for the cool dividers!

Pinkie Pie Pedge

There is no justifiable reason why I'm posting this. It COULD be a showcase of my soon to be complete series "Pike's Place" and all things Pink. It MIGHT be an installment of Pedge Tweets, and an excuse to gaze longingly at our beloved. OR it might just be a distraction as I head into a barrage of tests and doctor visits for the New Year (#pinkpoop). MOSTLY it's just cause I think Papi Pascal is hot sh@t.

*thanks zephirahh for the design page!

*sweets from the sweets @inept-the-magnificent + @romanarose

Moody Ricky

I'm sure most of us would like to be "touched by this angel" and I'm going to try to catch the episode this evening. Back in the day I used to watch Touched By an Angel religiously, who knew we were all viewing our lifetime crush in real time?

Friendly Frankie

Ooooh, @auteurdelabre told me they are working on a SECOND coloring book for us!? I'm not even done with the first! An embarrassment of riches! I don't write for Frankie very often, but when I do...I seem to be gushing about it. If you're looking for something saucy, don't forget to check out my "Moody Frankie Fic". Coulda used him last night....Pair it with Frankie's Favorites for the full experience and enjoy :)

In Cold Blood; The Road Trip

Grab a Latte! lounge around in the foyer with this sweet fic "Coffee and Crisis" @albertasunrise before heading into the Bookshop!

Triggers: profanity, murder, smoking, major spoilers for "In Cold Blood" by Truman Capote, 1950's cultural misogyny, minimal physical descriptions of reader, small roadside accident, blood, references past problematic relationship, burgeoning workplace romance...

Series Masterlist

Words: 3.5k

A drop of salty perspiration travailed the distance down your curving spine, resting right at the dip of your back and tickling the remaining path lower. You squirmed in your seat against the harsh leather, re-crossing your legs in the opposite direction. Damn nylons. Rockford cleared his raspy throat, extinguishing the most recent of several cigarettes in the nearby overflowing ash tray. A dull headache was starting to creep up the back of your neck, punctuated by the flowery plumes of smoke. 

What had you gotten yourself into?

It certainly was too late to back out now, as you neared the Nevada border, from your whirlwind drive through Los Angeles and out onto Interstate Ten. This was the most unexpected road trip you had ever embarked upon, but here you were nonetheless; newfound secretary to Private Investigator Tim Rockford, and headed towards your uncertain future of mystery and mayhem. You were about to launch into one of the most intriguing and confounding investigations regarding the Clutter Family Murders in Holcomb, Kansas. Even though it sounded like something out of those crime novels you loved to read, this couldn’t have felt more real. More real than the stinging smoke as it lodged at the back of your irritated throat. More real than the rising temperatures, adding to the heat and oppression of your haphazard decision making. More real than the nausea that was curling in the pit of your stomach and forcing you to question your pell-mell life choices. But you were employed, dammit, and eager to learn more about the unknown world of homicide, enigma and investigation.

“Read it again, doll” Rockford complained, shaking his head with infuriation as he gripped the steering wheel tightly beneath his freckled knuckles. You cleared your throat quietly and repeated one of the many newspaper clippings that sat piled in your lap.

“The Kansas City Star reports that the investigators will be faced with a search for a killer or killers whose cunning is apparent if his or their motive is not. For this killer or killers carefully cut the telephone cords of the home’s two telephones. bound and gagged their victims expertly, with no evidence of a struggle with any of them. Left nothing in the house amiss, left no indication they had searched for anything with the possible exception of the Clutter billfold. Subsequently shot four persons in different parts of the house, calmly picking up the expended shotgun shells. Arrived and left the home presumably with the murder weapon, without being seen. Acted without a motive, if you care to discount an abortive robbery attempt, which the investigators are wont to do”.

The repetitive chug of the Ford Falcon puttered reassuringly as Rockford reached up to grab yet another cigarette. 

“Don’t…..please….” you implored, unfastening another blouse button and wiping at your neck with a moistening handkerchief. Already hotter than hell, and the cigarette smoke wasn’t helping.

“Sorry, doll” Rockford acknowledged, returning the carton to his shirt pocket and cranking the window down another inch as the papers rustled in the breeze. “Damned if I can figure out what the motive is” he grumbled, reaching instead for a packet of Wrigley’s Doublemint gum and tentatively offering you a stick, which you declined. “Who in the hell shoots an entire family for a simple billfold?” Tim pondered between bites, crumpling the wrapper and messily throwing it into the backseat. You could see why he needed your secretarial skills.

“Where should we start with a case like this?” you asked curiously, rubbing the bridge of your nose with exasperation. You wanted to be a source of assistance and organization, but had no idea where to begin. Maybe you could be the sounding board for his own investigative process. As much as you wanted to portray an air of confidence and experience, you had neither. Mostly, outside of the uncomfortable car seat, staunch cigarette fumes and stifling heat, you were still keen to provide whatever resources you could, but were already feeling like the weak link. None of the newspaper clippings could make sense of an irrational crime that couldn’t even harken back to a bona fide motive.

“I don’t know what to tell you, doll” Rockford mumbled, reaching for the nearby car lighter and then thinking better of it. You shifted with discomfort at the repeatedly used nickname. Doll. “There are some things you can only sniff out in person. That’s why we’re headed to Holcomb, Kansas. Get a lay of the land. A feel for the town talk. Root out whatever vile and sordid secrets those down-home kinfolk are bound to be hiding” he paused to reflect on his plan of action when arriving. “Don’t know about you, but I never really trusted a sleepy, mid-western, Bible belt town” he mentioned, almost as an afterthought before you grimly retorted;

“I’M from the midwest” you bristled, though not entirely happy about it either. Tim’s gaze uncomfortably shifted sideways as he re-situated himself in the driver’s seat with a loud cough.

“Oh. Sorry doll” he backpedaled as you answered with a curt and abbreviated huff.

“Look, just call me Red, Mr. Rockford, and don’t misunderstand me. There are plenty of busybodies poking into everyone’s business. Gossiping might be the main order of the day, and the best judgements might be waged by any Bible-toting, nearby neighbor in sleepy Finney County. But it’s no better than the seedy and polluted streets of downtown L.A. Maybe our sins are a bit more polished, but I don’t suppose anyone deserves a quadruple murder next to their slice of apple pie, wouldn’t you say?” the puttering sounds of the Ford Falcon punctuated your surprising reprimand as Rockford’s eyebrows shot sky high. You bit your lower lip with a bit of chagrin. Rockford had unknowingly stepped right into a burgeoning emotional wound, but that couldn’t be helped now. You could almost hear the sardonic bit of William’s condescending voice in your ear, but swatted it away with chagrin. If you were going to hold your own in a world of criminals and justice seekers, now wasn’t the time to be a shrinking violet. Any secretary worth their salt was going to offer some insight, and you were determined to earn every iota of this impending adventure. 

“Sorry doll…I mean…Red” the corner of his mouth twitched upwards in a humble smile as you felt yourself relaxing a bit in the heat. You took several deep breaths to steady yourself and smooth out the wrinkled newspapers in your lap. 

“That’s alright” you finally admitted, swallowing dryly and tilting your head back against the headrest. “Guess I’m a little more sensitive than I thought” you wondered, reaching up to lazily twist a small curl of hair around your finger pensively. “But, that might be a good place to start when we finally arrive. Plenty of busybodies in a small town like Holcomb, Kansas. I know first hand the mighty power they can wield. An entire neighborhood of amateur investigators” you chuckled bitterly, searching through the newspapers once again for any new nuggets of information.

“Don’t suppose they all have shotguns, do they?” Rockford tried to joke, catching the roll of your eyes with a delighted smirk.

“Let’s hope not” you smiled, picking through the available research. Rockford hazarded a quick glance towards your reddened cheeks, a glistening drop of sweat dripping right down the center of your….EYES ON THE ROAD, he observed, absentmindedly reaching for the cigarette carton before encountering your pleading eyes once again.

“Sorry, sorry…” he repeated, shaking his head with embarrassment. “Read me that other one…the one with the Hefner Slaying…” his brow crinkled with consternation. “I know it was forty years ago, but maybe they’re related somehow…” you nodded with appreciation as you searched. 

“Okay, says here that ‘senior members of the small community can recall a wild goings-on of the Hefner Slaying. Mrs. Sadie Truitt, the hamlet’s septuagenarian mail messenger, is expert on this fabled affair. ‘August, it was. 1920. Hot as Hades. A fellow called Tunif was working on the Finnup Ranch. He had a car, turned out to be stolen. Turned out he was a soldier AWOL from Fort Bliss, over there in Texas. He was a rascal, sure enough and a lot of people suspected him. So one evening the sheriff rode out to the Finnup Ranch to ask Tunif a few straight forward questions. Third of August. Hot as Hades. Outcome of it was, Tunif shot the sheriff right through the heart. Poor Orlie was gone before he hit the ground. The devil who done it, he lit out of there on a horse and road east along the river. Word spread, and men for miles around made up a posse. Along the next morning, they caught up with him. He didn’t get the chance to say how d’you do? On account of the boys were pretty irate. They just let the buckshot fly”.

Rockford loosened his tie for the umpteenth time, before drawing it up and over his head with annoyance and tossing it in the back with the gum wrappers. He cracked the window down another inch as the newspapers fluttered in the breeze, eliciting a surprised gasp from you. “That sounds like the Finley Murder that happened in Holcomb, 1947” Rockford observed, as you tried to find the corresponding newspaper clipping.

“Mary Kay, stabbed with the jagged end of a beer bottle by that…Polk fella. All the makings of a cut and dry case. But nothing in the reports that suggests any of this foul play is related to the Clutter Family Murders. Just sounds like a town that has their own sense of justice, and won’t take kindly to strangers mucking around their dirty laundry” Tim rightly concluded as you nodded in affirmation.

The humble repetition of the car engine hummed beneath him for a few moments before you broke the relative silence. “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to snap at you earlier” you grumbled, searching for the next newspaper installment you had in mind.

“That’s okay, doll….RED” Rockford emphasized, smirking dryly. “S’been a long time since I’ve been around a real lady, and a road trip isn’t usually the way I…get to know one…” he sputtered, gripping the steering wheel more tightly, in lieu of holding a cigarette. “M’real grateful for your help and all, without so much as batting a pretty eyelash” he reddened slightly at the confession. “Even better if you have a mid-west mentality. I’m just a city mouse I guess. May not understand all the home-grown, Americana the way I should…” he self-deprecated, rubbing a hand across the back of his neck and wiping the sweat down. Damn hot in here…

You smiled tenderly at his admission. The heat must have gotten to you more than you realized, as you nodded your head with recognition. “I appreciate your taking a chance on me” you sniffled quietly, focused intently on finding the next resource. “I guess we’ll have some time to…get to know each other” you ventured, attempting to narrow your gaze from the broadness of his nearby thigh to the stack of papers sitting in front of you. This was going to be a lot of togetherness.

Rockford pressed his lips tightly together, choosing a forced silence rather than a continued haphazard bumbling. You gasped slightly with the finding of a report from The Wichita Eagle as you quickly read out loud,

“Officers will be investigating the tragic slaying of four members of the Herbert W. Clutter Family and have appealed to the public for any information which might aid in solving this baffling crime. Clutter, his wife and their two teen-age children were found murdered in their farm home near Garden City early last Sunday morning. Each had been bound, gagged and shot through the head with a .12-gauge shotgun”.

You paused in the reading as a wave of nausea passed over you. Taking a steadying breath, you continued, 

“Investigating officials admit they can discover no motive for the crime, termed by Logan Sanford, Director of the Kansas Bureau of Investigation as the most vicious in the history of Kansas….”. 

Rockford sighed heavily, flicking the switches of the car fan repeatedly, trying to get more air cycling through. “Just a matter of time before Finney County is swarming with every looky-loo and governmental official, if not already. M’not sure how much good we can do, other than dirty our noses a bit…” he rationalized, grabbing the carton once again and lighting a cigarette without thinking.

“Rockforrrrrrd!” you whined, attempting to cover your nose with the nearby handkerchief as he rolled the window down abruptly.

“Sorry doll…I mean RED…GODDAMIT!” he yelled as the newspapers fluttered out the window in a stream of literary nuisance as the car pitched dangerously from side to side. Rockford hit the brakes suddenly, checking his rear view mirror, though there hadn’t been a nearby car in hours. The Ford Falcon bumbled to an awkward stop as you jumped out of the car without thinking, running after the scattering newspaper clippings and laughing at the absurdity of the situation. Rockford emerged from the car with incredulity, watching you meander around the highway amidst the tumbling tumble weeds and surprised desert life, placing his hands resolutely on his hips. “TAKE IT EASY RED!!!” he yelled good-naturedly, watching your curvaceous figure stooping and bobbing demurely atop your office heels, the desert wind buffeting your once coiffed hairstyle. You were just about to counter with a sassy retort when your heel stuck in the asphalt, pitching you unceremoniously atop the heated highway, a painful burning sensation ripping through your nylons and bruising more than your ego.

“RED!” Rockford’s concerned voice was a bit lost in the din of the desert winds as you winced tenderly, your palms catching most of your weight and absorbing the searing heat of the ground beneath you.

“Jesus Christ” Rockford was almost immediately at your side, the crunch of gravel underneath his foot as he lowered to one knee and cupped your face in his hand. “You okay, Red?” he nearly shouted into your face as you squinted up at him slightly dumbstruck. This wasn’t the most auspicious beginning to your secretarial career, but you were mostly just embarrassed. You began to sit up shakily before noticing the rip of nylon and streak of blood cascading down your leg. Ooops. Rockford’s image swam in front of you for a millisecond before you steadied yourself bracingly. You took several deep breaths, trying to get your bearings and lamenting the lost newspaper clippings. 

“Shit” you mumbled, delicately brushing the asphalt from your legs as Rockford comfortingly shushed you. You felt the flat of his hand rubbing in large circles against your back soothingly as you swayed lightly at the motion.

“Got the pretty little mouth of a sailor I see” he chuckled, placing a hand lightly at your ankle and surveying the blossoming line of red beneath your nylon.

“It’s not that bad” you slurred slightly, clearing your throat and fingering the nylon tentatively.

“I’ll be the judge of that” Tim observed, now touching your knee sweetly and gazing down at you imploringly. “Do you mind?” he wondered, gesturing to your leg. You shook your head mutely, licking your parched lips in confusion. Without another moment of hesitation he deftly ripped the nylon right down the middle, a fresh trickle of blood appearing but quickly pooling in the arid heat. You jumped slightly at the quick motion, surprisingly aroused, albeit concerned. “Can you stand up, doll?” he asked, looping a sure hand around your waist and pulling you towards him. Your eyes widened to doe-like saucers, smelling his nearby musk mixed with an unknown desert flower of some kind. Without waiting for an answer he brought you smoothly to your feet as you hopped tentatively on one shoeless foot, wrapping your arms tightly around his neck for support. “Took a tumble, huh?” he soothed, his face strangely silhouetted by the blinding noonday sun.

“I lost the newspapers” you whispered, pouting slightly with frustration before Rockford swept you up in a cradle hold.

“Pretty sure that was MY fault, Red” Rockford admitted as you pointed furiously at the Cinderella-like shoe behind him. He bended down gruffly as you grabbed it with possession, Rockford carting you back to the idling car. “I think we got the gist of it on the ride here” he placated. “We’re about to join the narrative ourselves, if we play our cards right” Tim professed, setting you down gently at the passengers seat and grabbing the handkerchief strewn across the dashboard. “Now if I stop acting like a damn idiot….” he stuck his thumb roughly in his mouth with a quick lick, bringing it swiftly to your knee to staunch the trickle of blood. An intake of air passed over your lips as he gazed at you concernedly, soon pressing the handkerchief in his stead. “Hold that nice and tight, Red. Think you’ll be okay till we get to the motel in a bit?” he asked, his hand drifting up and down your calf reassuringly as your eyes glazed over with fatigue.

“Mmmhmmm…” you managed to get out, as his forehead crinkled with worry. 

“You just sit back now, I’ll get us there in no time” Rockford offered, shutting the door gently to your side and hopping back in the driver’s seat. “Maybe we can stop at a diner en route, it’s still a bit of a drive till we reach the halfway point. Hoping we can get to Utah by late evening, if you feel up to it?” he quarried, watching you intently as the car rolled to life again.

“I’ll try to be more careful” you shook your head with embarrassment, looking down at the dried blood starting to mat your ripped nylon. Some doll.

“Think it’s ‘sposed to be me in harm’s way” Rockford chuckled dolefully, placing a heavy hand on your upper thigh, but then quickly removing it as you jumped with excitement. “Don’t want you to worry your head about anything on this trip. I’ve a mind to find justice any which way I can, and I’m thankful to not be doing it alone” he responded curtly, fixing his eyes straight ahead and setting his jaw squarely. You hadn’t always been the best judge of character, but after the end of a long and painful relationship with William, the newfound liberation of a fresh start in Los Angeles had emboldened you. Rockford, P.I. was a good man, and if you could be a small part of the hunt for justice, then it would take more than a ripped nylon and bruised ego to dissuade you from your task. The Clutter Family certainly deserved as much. You smiled tiredly under his watchful gaze, drifting into a lazy sleep for the afternoon.

As promised, Rockford had found a diner just outside of the developing Vegas strip. You had gingerly hobbled into the establishment, amidst some concerned looks, and headed to the restroom to smooth out your disheveled hair, and carefully remove the now unnecessary nylons. The abrasion had easily clotted, and you wiped off the excess blood judiciously, emerging to find that Rockford had already ordered lunch for the both of you.  You both fell into easy rapport, relaxing from the day’s early adventure and starting to forge a professional relationship that you hoped would develop into a friendship. Right. A friendship. 

Watching Rockford tuck into a B.L.T you swallowed your glass of milk, watching him pensively. Rockford was an attractive man. You had certainly noticed in your quick morning interview, but…you gulped defensively. Slow down, Red, you chastised yourself silently, watching Rockford drag the back of his hand hungrily across his steadily chewing mouth. You just got out of a long term relationship, the last thing you need is jumping into bed with your boss. Your cheeks blushed at the unbidden thought as you both sat comfortably, prepping for the second half of the day’s journey.

It was nearly nightfall when the Ford Falcon jittered into the Kanab Roadside Motel parking lot, as Rockford secured your adjoining rooms and carried your small suitcase next to his own. Pausing at the doorway, he unlocked your room shyly, handing you the valise and turning back to his own. 

“You gonna be okay there, Red?” he shrugged, chewing the bottom of his lip with concern. It was only the first leg of the journey, and somehow he already felt like a bit of a failure. You smiled tiredly with encouragement, nodding in silence. 

“Good night, Tim” you yawned, waving your hand before closing the door behind you and plopping down with exhaustion on the squeaky mattress. Your first day as a professional secretary to Rockford, P.I.

A dull knock resonated through the wall as you heard Tim’s muffled voice, “I’ll be right here if you need anything….”. You giggled quietly, already feeling the tendrils of sleep tugging at the corners of your consciousness. You reasoned that taking off your high heels was a good place to start, before slowly drifting into a happy evening oblivion, and dreaming about what adventures might await the heroic tales of Red and Rockford, P.I.

You will never believe it, but I am headed back your way with an exciting new job opportunity! I know you had some reservations about my moving to L.A after...But I have been hired by Rockford Investigative Services to research the Clutter Family Murder in Holcomb, Kansas. I feel really lucky to be on this adventures, though it is not without its bumps and bruises. I hope you will be proud of me. I am definitely in good hands. Don't know if I'll have time to stop by on this trip, but will still see you for Thanksgiving... Your Loving Daughter

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