Boxed Or Unboxed?

Pedge Tease

Pedge felt like a little tease today and wanted to know if you'd like an early release of the Roll-a-Trope "Pike's Place Episode Four"? It's slated for release this weekend, but if I get more than 10 votes in the affirmative, we'll release it tonight :) What do you think? Delayed gratification?

Pike felt the pulse of your thighs holding him securely in place, as you gripped his wrists, gently pulling them behind his back. His eyelids fluttered momentarily, surprised at this forward change in tonality. You began lazily circling your hips over his gray sweatpants. Somehow his eyes were closed, but he was seeing every detail of your rosy complexion. Every freckle. Every crease. Every sumptuous plump and wrinkle was etched in his mind as his hips jerked forward into your hold. “M-more…” he stuttered, gulping loudly, slightly ashamed at his unabashed reaction. “More pleassssse…” he hissed, hearing the slight smirk as your voice retorted, “I’m the one calling the shots, Agent”. His head lolled lazily back as he tried to focus on his breathing, and not the feel of your breasts bouncing lightly against his bare chest. “More, more, more…” he mumbled incoherently as you increased your tempo....

The Audition:

This is Part Two of the New York, New York Series where I thought it would be fun to explore a realistic jaunt into the past. It's mostly self indulgent fluff, although just to be safe...

Triggers: fluff, lite smut at the end, saccharin sweet hand holding, alcohol consumption, descriptions of athletic (f) body, slight profanity, description of cigarettes, RPF re: Narcos audition

Lazily, you stretched your body like a cat, noticing your bedmate sprawled out next to you. Their pink button nose twitched with sensitivity as the morning light streamed in from the crusty window. You twisted your feet against the multi-colored quilt, blinking sleepily into the daylight. New York, New York. What a wonderful town.

Giving one final stretch you nuzzled your furry bedmate to happy purrs and biscuits and placed your feet on the cold wooden floor, padding down the hallway of your Airbnb. Standing at the kitchen counter you prepared the small metal espresso pot, cracking your joints noisily. Rehearsals had been a dream, but the wear and tear of New York foot traffic was nothing to scoff at. You’d met your creative team, perused the show sketches, started choreography, fell in love with your cast mates and moved into Ripley Grier. You’d even memorized the sketchy subway patterns and Thai Food take out locations, but you hadn’t done one thing.

Bumped into Mr. New York.

You licked your lips in anticipation as the espresso pot boiled in front of you. Pedro.

Pedge.

He seemed like more of a Pedge. Your guardian angel. That bumpy landing followed by a whirlwind arrival had almost completely derailed you in a New York minute, but something about those swirling orbs of chocolate-eyed concern had stuck with you. In a city that never sleeps it seemed almost ludicrous that you’d bump into him again. The cat delicately wrangled itself through your poised ankles as you poured a steaming cup of liquid energy into a chipped cup. But in the Big Apple, you smirked, anything can happen.

After two weeks of rehearsals things were going well, but they’d sent you further downtown for your final costume fitting and you had NO idea where you were going. The bustling underbelly of the New York subway system still had a certain romanticized grime, but WHY were you always lost? You nearly tripped over a discarded scarf and elbowed your way to the approaching train as your hair blew back in surprise at its gust of wind. Allowing the sea of humanity to exit you merged with the entering crowd and took your place, eyeing the suspiciously sticky puddle to the left of your feet. Assume the position; wide stance. Gripping the pole with one hand you took a deep breath and…there he was.

Face contorted in focused concentration and holding a nearly empty Venti Iced Starbucks Cup, along with loose leaflet pages, an iPod, phone and wallet. You smiled nervously, attempting to hone your skills of telepathy. If New York had taught you one thing it was to immediately seize every opportunity that presented itself, because the Big Apple waits for no one. You slid your way through a barrage of annoyed faces till your belly button was positioned nearly in front of his nose. You cleared your throat, but he remained buried in his concentration amidst the metallic, humming atmosphere. A busker began singing “Falling Slowly” and for one horrifying moment you considered disappearing into the masses, but noticing the large print on his cup, your curiosity got the better of you.

“Brown Eyes???!!!!” you exclaimed as his eyes darted up to your face with surprise. Dropping his pages on the subway floor, you nearly bumped heads trying to pick them up as a headphone now dangled unceremoniously, twisting in the air.

“J!” he smiled, brightening up the entire car as it slowed to a halt with a grinding crash. Having forgotten your wide stance, you nearly fell over backwards as he grabbed you by the front of your shirt and awkwardly pulled you onto his lap.

“Oops!” he blushed, pulling the other headphone out and beaming. “I wondered when I would see you again, how are rehearsals?”

Having temporarily forgotten your name and all manner of information you took quick note of the stubble dotting his chin and scent of something woodsy. Clearing your throat you stood up shakily, attempting to press your shirt down unsuccessfully. “It’s going great Pedge!”

…oops…

“Er…can I call you Pedge?” New York City: One, J: Zero.

“Of course!” he shouted patting the open seat next to him. Plopping down, your eyes took in the sides he was holding in his hand.

“Narcos” you nodded “intriguing”.

“Oh” he deflated a bit, rubbing the back of his neck. “I mean, I got a callback for tomorrow, but I can’t even get arrested, even after the…thing..” he lowered his voice conspiratorially, whispering into your ear, eliciting a small shiver.

“Well good, Narcos are supposed to arrest people, not the other way around” you joked. “Unless you’re playing a bad guy? What’s the scene?”

He chuckled light-heartedly handing over the pages, “It’s not the dialogue I’m worried about.”

Your eyes widened like saucers reading the lurid description:

Javier Pena and Helena are fucking on the living room couch. Liquor bottles and cigarettes sit in the foreground as the camera pans to their naked bodies. Javier finishes quickly, and eventually lays back on the couch to light a cigarette.

YOU nearly dropped the pages this time, reddening in embarrassment. “Are you playing Helena?” you coughed, watching his eyes sparkle before you.

“No, they said my tits were too small” he pouted, taking the pages back and smirking mischievously. You pursed your lips, attempting to hold back a laugh. Saucy devil.

“I mean, this is probably nothing compared to..the thing…” you repeated, referencing his recent GOT gig.

“It’s true, we had lots of nudity in that one” he agreed. “I’m pretty okay with it as long as I check with my scene partner, but this feels different somehow…” he trailed off.

“It feels more intimate” you surmised.

He winked, rolling the pages into a funnel and chewing his lip.

“They really should have somebody on-site to consult for intimacy scenes” you pondered. “I know I'm preaching to the choir here, but it’s about a lot more than just stripping and calling ‘action’! I’m never quite sure how to handle those auditions myself…”.

He nodded, bumping your knee with his and sipping down the final dregs of his espresso.

“Particularly with coffee…no wonder you’re so wired!” you pinched his knee sardonically as he crumpled with embarrassment.

“A man’s gotta eat” he huffed, pausing to think. “Wanna grab lunch?”

You’d never played hooky in NY, but your costume fitting wasn’t for another hour and Pedro pulled you through the epicenter of Times Square as you dodged a mostly Naked Cowboy and a dubious looking…Elmo? You tilted your head upwards, taking in the large marquis signs and towering hotels. “God, I hate Times Square” he muttered under his breath, weaving precariously through the tourists and tchotchke shops featuring every manner of “I Heart NY”.

“Shake Shack okay?” he nearly shouted into your face, gripping your hand tightly and moving forward at a breakneck pace.

“Sure!” you exclaimed, unsure of its significance, but excited to feel the vibe of the city. You could feel the pulse of his hand gripping yours, noticing a small tattoo in the crook by his thumb.

“It’s like “In and Out!” he retorted, “but even better! I know….sacrilege. You’ll thank me later, I promise…” whisking the door open and nearly shoving you inside. The rest of the day was a blur as one hour became two and two became four. You both raced into the costume fitting, still holding hands and giggling like kids. The repetition of the sewing machines and office talk immediately silenced you, as you made bee line for the fabulous individual wrapped in measuring tape and bright pink feathers.

“Darling, you’re 30 minutes late” they dead panned, eyeing you up and down suspiciously.

“I know I’m so sorry! I get lost everywhere I go! Is there still time for the fitting?” you panted, biting your lip apologetically.

“Come with me to the dressing room” they breezed past you with newfound amibition. “Your boyfriend can sit in the waiting area…”.

You gulped loudly, dropping Pedge’s hand with embarrassment. You looked over at him as he made a funny face. “Looks like I got the part” he chided, bopping you on the head with the Narcos sides and placing his hand on your lower back.

You felt your body temperature raise slightly as you headed into the backroom. Stepping into the curtained area you gawked at the gorgeous, red sequined dress hanging in front of you. Running your hands over the material you quickly ascertained its functionality. Breathable. Moveable. Wait, a minute. This plunging neckline was a bit too…plunging, as in, all the way downtown. Hmmm…Unable to reach the zipper in the back your eyes widened in concern.

“Move it or lose it honey!” the seamstress yelled, drawing the curtains back theatrically. “Let’s see what God gave ya!”. They pulled you into the center of the room as Pedge’s mouth dropped open in surprise.

Your black laced bra was fully visible through the non-existent front panel, and that one freckle on your butt cheek peeked out from the unzipped back portion.

“Sold” Pedge whispered with a graveled undertone, as the the seamstress arched a well manicured eyebrow to high heaven.

“Well that’s one way to sell tickets” they joked, yanking the zipper closed in the back as Pedge’s eyes darkened seductively. He cleared his throat, shifting with discomfort in the seat, and readjusting his pants with one hand.

“Looks good to me” he piped up, giving you a wink and twisting his mouth comedically.

“Thanks, boyfriend” you smirked, hoping your tits weren’t pointing directly through the fabric.

You floated through the rest of the afternoon in a dreamy hazy. They had released you from the day of rehearsal and Pedge convinced you to take a stroll in Central Park. Cyclists and kids dotted the hillside, and you couldn’t help but notice your hands seemed to brush together a lot in passing. Grabbing some ice cream from a nearby cart you found yourself uptown near the Metropolitan Museum of Art. About to step foot into the crosswalk a horse drawn carriage nearly bulldozed over you, as Pedge grabbed you around the waist protectively.

“We’re walking here!” he shouted, flipping the man off, and holding on to you a bit longer than was necessary. “You okay?” he asked, reaching up to wipe the ice cream remnants from the corner of your mouth.

“Never better” you smiled, lifting one foot slightly off the ground.

Meg Ryan, eat your heart out.

Pedge grabbed your hand as you walked into the massive, echoing chambers of the Met, grabbing your audio guide and museum map. “I prefer the Guggenheim, but the Met is unreal” Pedge beamed, ushering you into the Egyptian room with pride.

“I have decided…dat for the rest of the day…we are going to talk like dis” he whispered to you in front of the ceiling high paneled windows. “Waiter…”

“Waiter…” you smiled with acknowledgement.

“There is too much pepper on my paprikash…”.

You started giggling with delight until you both blurted out:

“But I would proud to partake of your pecan piiiiiiie!!!!”

Dissolving into fits of laughter you noticed a security guard clear their throat noisily in response.

“What, are we going to Katz's next?” you whispered clandestinely.

“I’ll have what she’s having” his voice dropped about an octave, grabbing you by the jean pocket and pulling every so slightly. Your breath hitched in your throat, noticing your close proximity. He didn’t break eye contact for so long you thought he might kiss you, but then he sighed heavily, dragging his hand across your abdomen. “Told you it was beautiful” he grinned, grabbing one of your fingers lightly and leading you through the open hall.

Sharing an audio guide, you were joined at the head, giggling in hushed overtones and pondering some of the classic art pieces. Walking into a room filled with ornate insignia and full bodied armor, Pedro twirled impressively, lunging forward with athleticism.

You took an embarrassed look around to make sure you weren’t catching unnecessary attention.

“I haven’t even told you anything about Croatia for GOT!” he exclaimed, a bit too loudly as you shushed him clandestinely. “There’s this scene for this MAJOR character that drives everyone nuts, and there’s an assassination attempt…” you covered his mouth with mouth hands smiling up into his face.

“Stawp!” I don’t even know the characters and you’re probably not allowed to talk about those details ya big goof!” you whispered, as he kept speaking in muffled tones into your hand. Darting his tongue across your palm you yelped with surprise. “Stawp!”

He grabbed your hand back and blew a stream of air over your fingers. “Do you want me to do a palm reading?” he asked, suddenly serious.

“Um, sure? Can you do that sort of thing?”

“Verrrrrry convincingly…” he joked, rubbing one finger down the epicenter of your hand. You shifted your weight tensely.

“I see an…interesting stranger in your future” he cocked one eyebrow up, bemused.

You rolled your eyes, poking him in the sternum as he chuckled. “What about money?” you pointedly asked, placing your other hand on your hip.

He closed his eyes dramatically, humming under his breath. You waited with anticipation, moving slightly closer, feeling the heat emanating off of his body. He brought your hand up to his forehead with bravado, “Zoltarrrr sayssss….actors never make…moneeeeeey” he chanted, opening his eyes to find you mere inches from his face. “Hi” he whispered, pressing his thumb into your palm and bringing it down to your side.

“I suppose there are things worth more than money” you mused, completely transfixed by his pouty lower lip. Watching his Adam’s Apple bob in his throat hungrily, you reached up and placed a hand to his neck feeling his feathery pulse intensify with the closeness.

“Nah” he broke the tension with a wide smile, giving you a quick peck at the corner of your mouth and running away like a kid in a candy store.

You stood with your mouth agape, beaming from ear to ear. Ah, the culture of art.

“Sick of me yet?” he questioned, caging you in against the vibrating subway door.

“Hardly” you yelled, covering your mouth in immediate embarrassment. “But what about your callback?”

His face registered slight shock for a millisecond, remembering the day’s events, and then shrugging his shoulders. “Eh, I’ll probably call my agent and bail. I don’t think I’ve got a shot in hell…” he reasoned.

“Nonsense!” you retorted. “I’m putting you to work immediately! You’re still in Brooklyn, right? We can grab some Thai and run your lines.” you tipped forward slightly with an unexpected bump, nearly brushing lips.

Pedge’s eyes sparkled mischievously. “You’re not gonna give me a line-reading are you?” he teased, pinching your chin lightly.

“Only if you suck” you wrapped your fingers around his wrist playfully. “I generally ask for compensation via foot massages”. Pedge glanced down at your feet with curiosity. “I think that can be arranged.”

“I haven’t…laughed this hard in years…” you wheezed, attempting to balance the Thai Food, wine and Pedge up four flights of stairs. Pedro dropped the keys in front of his apartment as you finally doubled over in laughter, tears streaming down your face.

“Stawp, stawp!” you pleaded, holding your stomach. “You’re gonna make me peeeee….”.

“Absolutely not!” he bellowed. “My landlord will fine me for that!” he burst into the apartment, trying to drag you over the threshold amidst your gasps for air.

“We haven’t even started drinking yet…” you barely managed to get out, crawling down the hallway to what seemed like the bathroom. Returning to the kitchen a few moments later, Pedge had grabbed some paper plates and opened the two buck chuck.

“Bon appetite!” he smiled gesturing broadly to the delightful spread as you took in the meager New York residence.

“Very bachelor pad” you teased, poking him in the ribs and gazing at the futon, clothes rack and piled books. “Okay Mr. Bibliophile” you observed, catching the titles of “The Color Purple”, “Meisner On Acting” and an art book on Rousseau.

“It’s no Versailles, but it’s home” he grinned, taking a large bite out of the crab rangoon.

Inhaling your Thai Food, you were already two glasses of red wine in, and had to remind yourself to slow down. You were just having so much fun, talking about character development and fighting over the last spring roll.

“Do I have to goooo tomorrow?” he whined, plopping down on the couch with faux theatrics. “Couldn’t we just…go to another museum? Oooh, have you ever been to Lincoln Center? Or Sardis?”

“No, no, no” you laughed, sitting opposite him on the couch and gazing intently into his eyes. “Do you think you have it memorized yet?”.

He turned his body to face yours, returning the intensity of your focus. “It’s not like there was a lot of dialogue” he reminded, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear tenderly. You swallowed dryly, feeling the happy effects of the wine buzzing around in your head. Curling your legs underneath you and resting your hands definitively on his quads you lectured.

“As you know, film and television has a much more intimate intensity than the performative styles of the theater…”

His eyes widened with acknowledgement “Thank you Professor J…”.

“Shuddup!” you giggled, continuing. “The most important thing you can do to maintain emotional intimacy for the camera is body language, communication and eye contact…” you informed, licking your lips and concentrating on his.

“Is that so?” he leaned in, returning your gaze and starting the scene.

“We get better every time we practice” he placed his arms on either side of your legs, moving in closer.

“You’re amazing Javier” you drolled, smirking sardonically.

“Well, don’t go overboard” his eyes darted down to your wine stained lips as you tipped backwards onto the couch.

“What you’re missing in this apartment is a woman” you teased, pulling him gently forward and straddling his torso with your knees.

“It’s fine the way it is” he rasped moving his head down to your sternum and placing a small chaste kiss across your midriff.

“Good…blocking” you managed to whisper. “Improvisation is…essential” you ran your fingers through his hair gently.

“What are you doing this weekend?” he intoned into your chest, now nibbling at your solar plexus.

Your breath came in shallow bursts, as you tried to remember your lines. “Uh….work or play?” you muttered, as the lines between lines blurred hazily.

“Ven aqui” he looked up, drawing his hands up the sides of your body slowly and pausing to cup the back of your neck.

“What?”

“Dame un beso” he drew one finger across your lower lip seductively, resting his body weight carefully atop you.

“I think that’s my line” you sighed.

Time seemed to stand still as you both held the moment, intently.

“I think tomorrow…you have a very good chance…” you smiled.

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...

Bi-Awareness and Visibility Month

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

Death of Self Giflet

Triggers: description of orgasm 1st person POV, intimacy, implied death/rebirth

In a therapeutic context, many psychoanalysts argue the death and rebirth of self is manifested through intimacy. But in this moment, all P knew was that you were going to be the death of him. Wave after wave of pleasure cycled through his body in an endless pulse as you enveloped his every sense. He could feel his soul expand and take flight with every breath, eyes fluttering open in lucid milliseconds of awe. Overpowering. Overwhelming. Incomprehensible. His body was incapable of housing the euphoria that was pouring over him and out of him. Floating somewhere between clarity and oblivion he transcended thought, emotion and time. He was everything and nothing, evaporating and cascading, shattering and coalescing, over and over again in an eternal cycle. Unable to contain the utopia, he exploded in a beam of light, splitting the universe in half, soul spilling forward. Dying to self and being reborn in your arms.

My Darling Muse (v),

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

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

Series Masterlist

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

My Darling Muse,

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

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

Pedro at the Beach

Ah! This turned out a little better than I was expecting! I didn't get to do as much sewing as I wanted, but featuring some Pablo Neruda poetry and my handy dandy PP coloring book among other things... We know our guy likes the beach...

Oh man, I tried to avoid Marcus Pike, but he's so absolutely adorable, even in heartbreak (the song recommendation was a perfect pairing). Thanks @whocaresstillthelouvre for this fun moodboard inspo, check out my previous Marcus Pike Post for the Charcuterie Challenge...I just posted a new Roll-a-Trope Challenge inspired by @burntheedges, Y'all are going to bring me to literary heights of avarice! Or just deadlines at least...

Oooh! I love the new moodboard request! Could we try Vibe/Marcus Pike/comfort? Like cuddle couch, blankets, candles stuff? Maybe beige or gray? Something easy...

Hi Pedge! Thank you for your support! I went very cozy with dinner and some good music provided by Marcus. 💕

Speaking of music I'm going to go with "Holding On" by War on Drugs. The lyrics are very heartbroken Marcus. Now I'm headed down a different road Can we walk it side by side? Is an old memory just another way of saying goodbye?

****Please do not watch the music video for the song if you don't want to cry.****

Childless Cat Lady...

GIF by @iamasaddie

Oh man, let it be me. Me next.

#man biscuits #a girl can dream #meow #childless cat lady much #insert pussy joke

Crime and Punishment The Visitor

Grab a latte! Time for a sweet treat before you head into The Bookshop! Check out "Sleepy" by @starlightandfairies when you get a chance!

Triggers: profanity, Last of Us canon + references, discussions of death, MAJOR spoilers for "Crime and Punishment", abusive "ex" type character enters the picture

Series Masterlist

Words: 3k

Winter seemed to stretch before you like an interminable blanket of scarcity. You didn’t know if this season were particularly harsh, or if the tumultuous relationships you had begun to form were impacting your perceptions. “Crime and Punishment” indeed. Caught between a rock and a hard place, there had been no real opportunity for conversation since that fateful night at the Miller Household. Not only did you find yourself vibrating with the palpable realization that Joel had his suspicions, but another patrol had almost immediately necessitated his absence. You found yourself slotted between the desperation of seeing his face again, and avoiding that confrontation completely. The anxiety of his potential return had almost overshadowed your own misgivings, coupled with the unlikely possibility that he might not remember the drunken conversation at all. Regardless, something had peaked his attention, and you could only hope you would have the chance to talk things out once and for all.

Winding your way from your humble abode down the soggy streets of the Jackson Commune, you were almost grateful for the momentary distraction of a commune meeting. You’d received a personal invitation from Maria days before, in your mailbox, and were curious as to the tonality of the discussion. As always, you were planning to blend seamlessly into the background as more vociferous members complained about rations, resource allotment, commune responsibilities and more. Stuffing your hands further into your pockets you were doubly curious as to why the town meeting was so early in the morning, and only seeing a few solitary souls dotting the commune main street. Had you mixed up the times?

Trudging up the solitary steps you headed into the main eating area that doubled for community activities, immediately halting your steps at the echoing sight that greeted you. The dining area was completely empty, save for a long table at the back end of the room with three chairs. It was seating for Tommy, Maria…and you. You heart dropped into your stomach as your breath caught in your throat. WHAT was this? Had Joel said something about his suspicions? Maria had always been shrewd, and a formidable leader, maybe even more so with the expectation of giving birth in the next several months. If anything, it seemed to have provided a clarity of purpose and a voracity of intention you weren’t entirely sure you wanted to be stacked against. You had the momentary terror of being asked to leave, but quickly shoved it from your mind, almost guiltily heading towards them.

“Tommy. Maria…” you began, feeling your posture collapse into itself though hoping for a more confident facade.

“Teach!” Tommy exclaimed, oddly mirroring Joel’s mannerisms for a split second, before pulling out a chair for you under Maria’s hawk-like gaze. “Thanks for joining us!”

“Glad you could make it” Maria politely smiled, a hand tucked under the table to cradle her burgeoning belly.

“Didn’t quite realize this was going to be a solo venture” you mumbled, reaching for the water that had been laid out for you conscientiously. “Is Joel back from patrol yet?” the words were out of your mouth before you had a chance to hold them back, as Maria’s eyebrows shot up questioningly.

“No, they’ve been gone for almost a week again. Patrols are getting longer and harder the further we venture into Elk Creek and Mountain View. Dangerous too…” Tommy begrudgingly admitted, rubbing at the back of his neck dejectedly. “Hate to not be with ‘em…”.

“We talked about this” Maria muttered under her breath, eliciting a sharp look from Tommy in retort. “You can’t lead every patrol AND lead the commune from within. We’re already stretched too thin, and I have my own responsibilities” she emphasized, firmly but kindly, as he nodded acquiescently.

“Talked to Joel” Tommy added, “before he left”. Your heart lurched violently in your chest. Jesus, was this is? The moment they asked you to leave the commune for good, finally aware of your questionable past. Unfit for teaching, unfit for living, unfit for…

“Told us that you were trustworthy. Like family”. The words hung in the air as you sputtered helplessly with your glass of water, watching Maria’s reactions from across the way.

“What?” you croaked, coughing slightly in the echoing dining hall. “What did he say exactly?” 

“That was about it. Joel’s not one for lengthy conversations. We’re…uh…looking into leadership expansion and Joel said you were the one to ask…” Tommy trailed off, looking at Maria hesitantly. You stared at the both of them, uncomprehending.

“I have my reservations about Joel” Maria began, as Tommy hissed begrudgingly under his breath “but he wouldn’t even consider the position. His first recommendation was to ask you…” she stated curtly, folding her hands across the desk imploringly. “We need you to step up and lead” she finished. Your mouth parted in shock and concern. Leadership? Whatever suspicions Joel had about your past, he had either kept to himself or those opinions weren’t weighing heavily on the proceedings before you. You desperately wished you knew which one.

“But I’m…” you paused, unwilling to go into more detail, “I’m just…a teacher” you stalled, unsure of what requirements you were stepping into. If Tommy and Maria didn’t know about your background already, the moment they did, it would immediately derail any hopes of future expansion. Better to stay in the background as much as possible, while still proving yourself useful.

“You’re a lot more than just a teacher, and you know it” Tommy unwittingly bruised your disappearing ego. “You care for the next generation of The Jackson Commune, you’re an upstanding citizen, knowledgeable and friendly, and trustworthy. And we need you”. The silence was deafening as you considered their words. You didn’t want to incite suspicion with more deflection. Maria was about as investigatory as they come, and her pregnancy seemed to elicit an almost supernatural power of insight you didn’t want to overtly incur. As though perceiving your hesitation telepathically, she joined Tommy’s request.

“Things are steadily going to become more difficult for me as I approach the due date” she knowingly smirked. “I’ve got to be realistic about my own limitations, and start including others in the leadership process. I don’t know what this might involve, but can we count on your cooperation?” she almost pleaded, tilting her head to the side sympathetically. You took a deep breath before launching forward.

“I’m here” you stated bluntly, rubbing your hands together nervously. No turning back now. Come hell or high water, you were a citizen of the Jackson Commune, and whether they could unconditionally accept you, you were invested lock, stock and barrel in the health and wealth of the growing community. It was time to double down, whatever the consequences might turn out to be. Both Tommy and Maria sat back victoriously in their chairs, looking to one another in affirmation and resolve.

“Like I said, we don’t know much about the specifics, but as soon as Joel and the patrol party get back, we should have some idea of how this plays out” Tommy offered, standing courteously.

“Any quick questions before we adjourn?” Maria asked judiciously.

“Who’s Sarah?” you blurted out, almost covering your mouth with embarrassment, but holding firm to the question. If you were going to trust The Miller Family with your secrets, you needed a better understanding of some of their own. Tommy immediately sat back down solemnly, looking back to Maria tentatively.

“What did Joel tell you?” Maria asked, her eyes squinting cautiously in appraisal.

“Not much” you confessed “I could just tell that….he wanted to” you shrugged your shoulders placatingly, desperate to know more, but hesitant to push the matter. The silence deepened as Tommy and Maria seemed to communicate without words, Tommy haltingly stuttering, 

“If…” he cleared his throat sensitively “…if Joel already mentioned Sarah, you could…ask Ellie about it, too” he clicked his tongue guiltily. “Just go slow, teach. That’s not a topic you should hover around needlessly” he intoned, tilting his head forward darkly. You sighed heavily, acknowledging his implied warning. Understood.

“Thanks for coming by” Maria gravely stated, gesturing for your exit which you quickly took advantage of. Leaving the large dining area, the blast of cold winter air was like a refreshing slap in the face, steeling your resolve and snapping you back into reality. You needed to know more. Joel’s continued absences were not only making progress difficult, but you had to admit the stress of longing was waring. Every time he left, you wondered if he would make it back, and Ellie must be feeling the loss even more intently. Perhaps you could seek solace in the company of one another. Standing at the commune crossroads, you finally decided to venture past The Bookshop. Maybe it would prove comforting, even symbolically.

Arriving at the door, you always saw the stark “CLOSED” sign teetering bitterly in the window, but caught a quick glimpse of a lazy, orange tail flicking past the bookshelves. Joel might not be there, but Rascal the Cat was. Trying the doorknob you easily entered to the comforting sound of the ringing bell, as Ellie’s face popped curiously from behind a stack of books.

“Joel?” she uttered, before registering her temporary disappointment.

“Just me kiddo, sorry…” you apologized, enjoying the warmth of the wood burning stove, but feeling the loss of Joel’s presence as much as Ellie did.

“Sorry teach…Joel is on another patrol, and Rascal was gettin’ restless” she sighed, re-stacking the books in an unknown order and throwing her hands up helplessly.

“I think I know how he feels” you commiserated, joining Ellie on the The Bookshop floor and wrapping your arms protectively around your knees. “Did he say anything before he left?” you probed, wanting to be gentle, but also gnawing at the bit. Maybe Rascal wasn’t the only one feeling restless.

“No, I just caught him the morning before he left again. Said you had talked the night before?” she questioned, her eyebrows raised with curiosity. “Did he seem okay?”.

You smiled tenderly, reflecting on Joel’s vulnerable inebriation, and longing to reach out and touch his face in that exact moment. “He seemed…tired” you confessed “and…a bit…sad. Mentioned something about…Sarah” your voice nearly disappeared as you second guessed your line of conversation, but found yourself running out of time and options. Joel was hopefully going to come back any moment, and you were more than ready to offer whatever support and encouragement you could. But how could you do that without knowing the type of wound you were encountering? Ellie seemed momentarily surprised and a bit unsure of herself as Rascal the Cat rounded the corner, butting its head against her shoulder playfully.

“He told you about her?” she began, absentmindedly petting Rascal and shifting with discomfort.

“He mentioned her, and you…and someone else named Tess”.

Ellie shifted uncomfortably once again, her lips drawn tightly in resolution.

“Normally, I wouldn’t ask, but Tommy and Maria seemed to think it was a good idea” you slotted the final piece of information in carefully, as though negotiating with a nuclear explosion. “If you don’t think it’s appropriate, please forget that I asked…”.

Ellie breathed in quickly, an inhale of relief washing across her face momentarily, before Rascal started purring contentedly. “Just don’t tell Joel that I told you” she looked around conspiratorially as though expecting him to pop into the room clandestinely without her knowledge. “Sarah is…Sarah WAS Joel’s real…Sarah was Joel’s daughter” the words finally cascaded forth, anxious for their revelation. As though in support, Rascal mewled affectionately as you nodded your head in affirmation. 

Of course. So many things were starting to coalesce. Joel’s protection of Ellie, his isolation, the supportive father figure that he was. Steeling yourself against the barrage of emotion you sat in silence wondering at the many twists and turns of life and death. You continued to feel helpless in the face of such insurmountable suffering. Maybe the only comfort you could provide was a solace for confession and expression in a world of silent punishments, and maybe it would have to be enough. “And Tess?” you gently added.

“I don’t like talking about Tess” Ellie huffed, moving Rascal off of her lap as he smugly trotted away. “She saved me and Joel, and then she died. And it pissed me off, if I’m being honest” she barreled through the admonition, leaning back against the bookshelf resignedly before quietly smiling. “Not sure what that is” she pondered, fingering the pages of the nearby books pensively. “Don’t see why death should cause so much…anger”.

You tilted your head sideways, once again surprised by Ellie’s preternatural wisdom. Circumstances may have catapulted the next generation into a premature adulthood, but there was a lot to be learned from the ranks coming up. “Death is one of the most visceral of all human experiences, and we get to fully inhabit our humanity when we wrestle with it. It’s like a dance. A beautiful, horrible dance” you offered, just as perplexed as Ellie was.

“I’m glad Joel has you” Ellie whispered, tightly hugging her abdomen as though she were about to pull apart.

“I’m not the only one you guys have” you nudged Ellie’s boot with your outstretched foot as she hesitantly met your eyes with acknowledgement. “I’m glad you have each other…”.

The peaceful silence was punctuated by the wood burning stove, until you noticed a solitary figure begin running down the main thoroughfare of town. A quick intake of air was met by the telltale alarms of a returning patrol as you and Ellie locked eyes emphatically.

“Joel”.

Running down the mainstream, arm in arm you ran as fast as the lingering snow would allow, a small group of town’s folk assembling at the front gate. Your breath halted in your throat seeing the purpose driven pace of the patrol approaching, though not apparently in distress or escaping trouble. You uttered a small cry of relief seeing the bags of resources they had in tow, swiftly scanning the group to find Joel’s telltale winter’s coat.

“There!” Ellie pointed euphorically, as Joel’s formidable frame came into focus, galloping towards The Jackson Commune. Damn, he looked good. You squinted helplessly, trying to identify any cuts or abrasions, though he initially seemed to be in one piece. You attempted to quell the disparate emotions vying for attention in the overwhelming thrum of your heartbeat. This was it. Whatever Joel remembered from his inebriated conversation, he had obviously reconciled himself to whatever suspicions he may have previously held. Maybe he didn’t know what he thought he knew. Or maybe he just didn’t care.

You watched from a distance as Ellie raced to meet him, Joel cautiously dismounting from his horse as Ellie poked and prodded at him inquisitively. He DID have a few abrasions you noticed as you neared the party, Joel quickly making eye contact with you from several feet away. A smile teased at the corners of your mouth until you noticed the severity of his external injuries.

“What the hell, Joel?” you exclaimed, reaching up to his forehead concernedly, as he took your hand gently in his.

“Good to see you too, teach” he winced with discomfort as Ellie prodded at his upper arm. “Not a science experiment…” he grumbled, though his mouth betrayed a tremor of affection.

“What happened? Any clickers? Get any good books?” Ellie immediately interrogated, taking Joel’s pack from his shoulder and starting to pat down the nearby steed.

“Ran into some trouble up by Elk Creek. No clickers, but patches of raiders pocketed in the harsher territories. Met up with some scattered folks that gave us a hand…” Joel clicked his tongue begrudgingly, absentmindedly rubbing a small circle into your outstretched palm. That was new. “Found a copy of ‘Wuthering Heights’” Joel lowly intoned, his eyes sparkling mischievously, as you gawked incredulously. “Had to go through a heap of mess to get it” he whispered, as you slapped him good naturedly on the shoulder eliciting another small wince. Taking his arm in yours, you decided to save the chastisement for later, before escorting him to the medical facilities for a quick check.

“Looks like I can start assigning even more homework for our next adventure” you teased, so thankful to have Joel back in your sights and back in the safety of the commune. Maybe you were starting to believe in happy endings.

“Well, as I live and breathe! If it isn’t ‘The Teach!’”

A smarmy voice penetrated your bubble of happiness as your heart skipped several beats. You gripped Joel’s hand in a white knuckled vice, attempting to keep your face as stoic as possible, before turning slowly towards the familiar gravel, you had so happily escaped in year’s past. Joel’s face flicked to yours intensely as Ellie’s face contorted in skepticism.

“Levi” you drawled sarcastically, plastering a smile across your face politely, and gripping Joel’s hand even tighter. Joel positioned himself ever so slightly ahead of you, broadening his chest and staring fixedly at the stranger that stood before him.

“Couldn’t be more grateful to The Jackson Commune for welcoming us sorry band of misfits for a temporary respite”. Levi’s voice was as honeyed and calculated as ever, but you had learned long ago to distrust every iota of Levi’s practiced and sinister promises. “Looks like your Joel found himself between a rock and hard place. We were just happy to arrive when we did, and give ‘em a hand” Levi extended his hand to Joel who summarily dismissed it, coldly.

“Happy to get you back on your way after a square meal” Joel gritted his teeth harshly, watching your staunch expression, and growing more adversarial by the minute.

“Where ya from anyways?” Ellie squinted skeptically, already attuned to the tension in the frigid winter air.

“Oh we go way back, isn’t that right, teach?” Levi lightly touched your elbow which you jerked back reflexively. 

“Let’s get you to the medical bay” you uttered briskly, dragging Joel behind you before he did something you would both regret. Joel clenched his jaw resolutely, watching your face intently as he followed. You tried desperately to ignore the salty tears cascading down your cheeks with abandon, but the heat of Joel’s gaze seemed to propel them forward. Joel might not care about your questionable background, but there was no doubt in your mind;

Your past had just walked in through the gates of The Jackson Commune. And right now, there wasn’t a damn thing you could do to escape it.