My Darling Muse, My Darling Dieter...

Pedge Paints Refugee Day

Beldro Ramscal posted about Refugee Day with beautiful poetry and support! Included is also the Pedro narration of Chilean, Pulitzer Price Winning Poet Gabriela Mistral piece, "Give Me Your Hand", set to the Chilean National Anthem...

God Said No...

Thank you to @auteurdelabre for our beautiful coloring book! I've so enjoyed the recent foray into poetry and was reminded of Pedro's voice note via Omar Apollo's album, "God Said No...". Here's an excerpt for your enjoyment...

@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

Pike's Place The Holiday

A huge thank you to @burntheedges for a fun Roll-a-Trope Challenge that has turned into a slow burn, snowed in Winter Series. I have @inept-the-magnificent to thank for all their encouragements and outline rec's!

Triggers: Tipsy Pike (cutest ever), slight profanity, sexy thoughts, accidental lingerie (?), discussions of ex, stranded car trouble, discussion of pandemic...

Series Masterlist

You stood, poised with crowbar and cell phone in hand, watching the adorable, pink-cheeked man in front of you swaying ever so slightly. “How can I help you?’ his voice comedically cracked at the end, as the tv meandered on with Jimmy Stewart’s countenance flickering before you. Still shivering slightly from the cold your explanation cascaded forth, somewhat unhinged, 

“ImeansincethepandemicIcanttellifImcomingorgoing.Itsbeenalongroadmethaphoricallyliterallysexuallyspiritually.OfcoursenotallwhowanderarelostbutthisgalisasIcantfindmyAirbnb.BessiekonkedoutonthesideoftheroadcouldIuseyourlandline?”

You stood huffing slightly from the minimal hike, atmospheric cold and rambling monologue, which seemed to have no affect on your clueless cabin mate. He stood irresolute except for a slight waver that betrayed his intoxicated state. Feeling more awkward by the second you glanced around the room for any sign of life, noticing a small lanyard by the door that stated, “Agent Pike; Art Squad”, featuring a clean shaven version of the business lumberjack in front of you. If this man was a threat, he was certainly masking it well. You were the one holding a crowbar and crashing his tipsy Christmas extravaganza. A pang of guilt flashed through you as you realized the silence was stretching into an eternity. Agent Pike might be cutting quite the cozy figure, but you were starting to feel like Winter Barbie in your pink snow suit, complete with crow bar and cell phone props. All you needed was the Pink Corvette and you could leave this sweet man alone for the holidays…

Pike blinked confusedly as his eyes focused in and out on the vision in front of him. Was he hallucinating? One minute he had been enjoying a bottle of red, and commiserating with Jimmy Stewart. The next second a pink snow bunny had materialized on his snow-bidden doorstep and was propositioning him with a crowbar and cell phone. Merry Christmas? He swallowed dryly, pink cotton candy between his ears, static in his vision. This must be a mistake, have I finally summoned love itself, he wondered? Was he saying anything? Am I saying anything? Time seemed to be moving in liquid droplets, or lightly falling snow. He was cold. He was hot. He was confused. He was drunk? Why was he wearing a suit jacket? The pink vision was talking to him in lilting tones, but he couldn’t concentrate, focusing on her sparkly eyes and curving body. Clearing his throat, he decided to reboot.

“How can I help you?” he repeated dumbly, attempting to stifle a small unbidden hiccup. Pike stumbled slightly, chuckling to himself…

You lurched forward in a pink swirl of energy, attempting to grab his hand and finding it impossible with a crow bar and cell phone. “Whoa, steady there, Agent! You okay?”

His eyelids were now half closed as he grinned dopily, “Sorry, I feel like I might bump into you. Guess that red rrreally packed a punch…” he swung loosely, poking you in the ribs eliciting a small shiver of surprise. You set the crowbar down on the nearby table and pocketed your cell phone. 

“I’m sorry, I’m totally disrupting your holiday celebration…with your family?…” you ventured a curiosity, catching another glance at his comfy gray sweatpants and wondering what lay beneath. Swatting the thought away, you held him by the wrists lightly as he swayed like a dandelion in the wind, attempting to catch sight of a…non-existent ring.

“Just me” he grinned, though it bordered on a whimper that caught in his throat, as his forehead scrunched in concern. “All alone on the holidays…” he trailed off, nearly to himself.

Oh my gawd. Did I just fall in love? Your eyebrows shot up to your forehead in surprise, looking over at the dwindling fire and near finished bottle of red. Gosh, maybe you weren’t the only one feeling lonely this holiday season. After the pandemic it seemed as though the world had moved on without you, but maybe there were some others feeling a little left behind. You pouted sympathetically, wondering if you had found a kindred spirit.

“Come on, let’s get you situated here…” you easily led him to the couch as he collapsed unceremoniously in a heap, sighing heavily. Of course, it might have been bravado on your part, but this guy did seem to be a security agent of some kind, and he certainly wasn’t a pressing danger in this state. You looked over at his forlorn grin as he rubbed his socked feet together like a cricket. Heaving a sigh of relief, you plopped down on the couch next to him, trying to figure out your next steps. You looked around the small cabin. Nobody had a landline anymore, and even if they did, who was gonna be able to reach you at this time of night, in a snow storm? 

“You’re stuck!” he exclaimed, pointing a finger as though divining the truth you had uttered mere seconds ago. You smiled broadly, feeling yourself melt into the couch. This was going to be a problem.

“Yes, Detective, that is correct” you grinned, looking around the room for one final scavenging hunt before giving up completely. “My car isn’t moving another foot and apparently neither am I”.

He nodded appraisingly as though clairvoyant, “I thought asz much” he slurred slightly, trying to gather his bearings, and sitting up a bit to focus. “I’m not a detective, but I notice stuff” he kept nodding and gave you a little wink. You pursed your lips together in amusement. I mean, you WERE crashing his solo holiday celebration, but damned if you weren’t already smitten with Agent Pike.

“I mean, I don’t notice EV-E-R-Y-THING” he emphasized every syllable dramatically, not attempting to stifle the next hiccup. “My girlfriend (hiccup)…”

Your stomach lurched forward, unsure where his sentence was headed…

“…left me for another guy”.

You tried to hide your guilty enthusiasm with a sympathetic pout.

“S’okay” he waved his hands in front of him, nearly knocking over the wine bottle in the process. “I moved waaaaaay too fasst. But no more. Nope. Not for me (hiccup). I’mma just go it alooooone…” he trailed off, blinking rapidly. “Drinkss?” he gestured broadly, nearly knocking over the wine bottle again, which he punctuated with a hiccup. “S-sorry I stoods up a little fast. Too fast…” he trailed off again pouring the remaining dregs into his glass.

You sniffled with emotion or congestion watching this puppy dog of a man unravel in front of you. “Why can’t I find somebody like you?” you whispered, eyes widening to the shape of saucers, chagrined that your inner monologue had somehow materialized outward.

“What?” he hiccuped, offering you the now empty wine bottle. You took it from his hands gently. “Okay, last round Agent Pike” you smirked, wondering at this enigmatic turn of events. Transparently you marveled at your miraculously good fortune, but at what cost? You found yourself snowed in, with a teddy bear of a guy, who was apparently nursing a broken heart, and yours had yet to start beating again. You twiddled your thumbs nervously, wary to share too much information. But drawn magnetically forward by his warm gaze, you decided to hazard the harsh truth. He won’t even remember this conversation tomorrow anyways, you rationalized.

Pike was squinting hard to try to cement every detail into his memory. If this was how he met his wife, he wanted to remember the moment it happened. That was stupid. She’d have to be his fiancé first. He shook his head slightly attempting to clear it of cobwebs. Why can’t you be a normal human and just start with a date, you imbecile. That’s ridiculous, you can’t go on a date out in the wilderness. She might not even be single. I wonder how many children she wants, the thoughts floated through his mind unrequested. Listen to what she’s saying you idiot, he chastised himself. You’re an officer of the law, Pike, get it together. He tried to sip his wine introspectively, quickly becoming aware that was intensifying his intoxication. Whatever you do, just take it slow, Pike. Don’t rush in like last time. The last thing women want is someone moving too fast and making assumptions that aren’t real. This gal finds herself in a tight pinch, and all you’re going to do is make sure she gets home in one piece. He found himself staring at your lips as they moved fluidly, wondering how they might feel….Hot damn, shut up, Pike! You’re already muddled enough, just keep your thoughts to yourself and don’t say anything stupid. She’s pretty. He shifted with slight discomfort noticing the tell-tale pinching feeling between his legs. For that matter, just don’t do or say anything at all. Robot. You’re a robot. You don’t think, you don’t feel anything.

“It’s nice to talk to a real human” you began, unsure of how much to share and what to omit. “I’ve been working from home a lot, and sometimes it seems like the world just keeps getting smaller and smaller”.

He nodded his head imploringly, holding the wine glass between his lips like a sippy cup. You almost couldn’t help yourself. There was something about this man that probably charmed everyone to his gentle personality, but you didn’t care. It had been so long since you had anyone listen to you, particularly someone in gray sweatpants. You found yourself melting like a snow…woman into the couch, assured that he somehow understood what you were talking about. Just two people. Lamenting the lamentable. Sobbing into their Christmas cookies. The holidays SUCK. Donna Reed caught your eye as she ran the down the street from Jimmy Stewart’s passionate advances. You rolled your eyes in annoyance, still hoping they ended up together. Horror upon horror, “Mary Hatch” was a librarian and a SPINSTER! Sigh. If she had lived during the 21st century things you probably would have been buddies. But alas, she was in the 1940’s and you were in the 20 somethings. She was a fictional character and you were as real as it gets. She was wearing a snood. And you were in a pink snow suit.

He sloppily reached out to grab your knee. “I know!” he nearly shouted, nodding like a bobble head.

You giggled slightly, mostly to keep from crying, but you felt the emotion bubble up within you nonetheless. You hadn’t even voiced the hurt to yourself, so speaking it into existence was a bit harder than you anticipated. The fire crackled in the hearth warmly, adding a softness to the moment that floated hazily in the room. You began to notice how hot everything had become, staring into his eyes as they drifted lazily in and out of focus.

“I haven’t even….dated anyone since the pandemic…” your voice nearly disappeared, shocked you were sharing this information with a man you had suspected of being a serial killer but 20 minutes earlier.

“Oh nooo” he lamented, tipping his head sideways on to the couch and turning his body towards you. “Well, you’re not missing anyone… No, that’s not right (hiccup). I’m sorry. Men are dumb” he paused, suddenly befuddled in his buzzing state that he had said too much. “Or women? Women are dumb!” he cringed, trying to blearily ascertain the situation, now growing concerned that he had misread the signs AND insulted you.

You grinned again, appreciative of his awareness even in an intoxicated state. “Yes, well women can be stupid too, but boyfriends take the cake” you huffed. Taking special notice of the amber flecks in the pooling brown of his eyes, you tilted your head to meet his. “At some point, it really does seem easier to just go it alone”. Damn, why was it so hot in here? Peri-menopause ought to be a few years off for Christ’s sake. You looked over at the crackling fire.

“I guess it’s my own fault” you slid the zipper of your snow suit down, dabbing at the perspiration on your neck and overheating in more ways than one. “Somehow I just became more and more isolated as time progressed” your lower lip wobbled unexpectedly, surprising even you. “I wish I could be more relaxed. More forward. Much like Bessie the Hyundai, I have a tendency to move as slow as molasses”. You looked over at his doe like countenance, as he had apparently drained the final dregs of his wine glass and was looking pointedly at your chest. He gulped dryly, raising his eyes to meet yours.

Oops. You glanced down at your unzipped snow suit, suddenly remembering there wasn’t much beneath. A sparkly pink bra and matching underwear had most assuredly caught his attention, but had slipped yours. Coughing slightly, you slid the zipper back up just enough to showcase your burgeoning cleavage. His brain seemed to have short circuited as you winced with embarrassment. 

Marry me, he thought. Shut up, Pike! Did you not learn your lesson in Sacramento? This isn’t some cinematic, sappy movie that you’re watching on AMC! You’re an agent for God’s sakes! Man of the law. He licked his lips dryly wondering who had drunk all of the wine. I’m just a hopeless romantic, emphasis on the hopeless part, he drolled to himself. Just a lone wolf. I wonder what her lips taste like. Shhh! Lonely wolf. Awwwooooo! He stifled a wine-fiiled giggle..

About three things you were absolutely positive. Number one, Agent Pike was the most adorable non-serial killer you had ever met. Second, there was a part of him, and you didn’t know how potent that part might be, was ogling your…snow suit. And third…you seemed to have no problem with it whatsoever.

“I think you’re a hero” he hiccuped, holding his now empty wine glass up in a toast. His eyes were twinkling as a stray lock of hair dangled in front of his chocolate colored eyes. Puffing his cheeks to blow the strand away, you mercifully reached up to draw it back into place.

“I’m a hero, Agent Pike?” 

“Yeaaaaah” he drawled, then sitting up suddenly in a burst of focused energy. “You must be the heroine of your own story!” he looked like he was about to stand up and deliver a speech, so you positioned both hands on his quads to calm the situation.

“Okayeeee Pike. I think if it’s okay with you I can bunk here for the evening, and come morning I can call Triple A and see about getting a tow. Does that sound okay to you Agent?” you gazed at him curiously as he swayed slightly, still grinning.

“There’s hot chocolate” he offered, somewhat randomly, but helpful nonetheless. “You can call me Mr. Pike if you want (hiccup). I mean Mr. Marcus…M-M-arcus…” he mumbled adorably.

“Thank you for the hot chocolate, Mr. Marcus” you offered sweetly, noticing that your hands were still cemented to his broad thighs. You wiggled your fingers slightly, in a near out of body experience, as he remained intoxicatingly unawares.

“We can finish the movie!” he exclaimed. “I’ll take the couch!” he hiccuped, lying back with contentment as you took the wine glass out of his hand gently. “I wanna hear it!” he chanted “I’m the hero of my own story!!!” he repeated, grabbing the remote to unmute the tv and then closing his eyes serenely.

“You’re the hero of my story” you absentmindedly repeated, noticing the next movie “The Holiday” had started twinkling before you. You gazed at the small staircase leading up to a possible bedroom for the night. This certainly was not the way you had anticipated your adventure starting, but perhaps Agent Pike was going to be the Christmas gift you never expected, but always deserved. All that remained was to see if you could let yourself receive it, before the Christmas Miracle evaporated. The familiar opening melody of “The Holiday” began as you looked over to notice small snuffles and light snores drift from Pike’s plush lips, made pink in the flickering fire-light. Art Squad indeed, you marveled, finally able to get a glance at his aquiline nose and gentle profile. Your eyes drifted over his broad chest, soft stomach and cozy gray sweat pants. Holding your hands firmly in your lap, you drew yourself up to grab the nearest chunky blanket and tuck him in. Taking an indulgent moment to lightly draw your fingertips over his frame, you thought you caught the lightest whisper of, “Love you, honey” before he slipped back into a wine-soaked slumber. 

Oh my, this WAS going to be a problem, you smiled, shutting off the tv, and padding up the stairs to find your bedding for the evening.

Merry Christmas to us all, and to all a good night…

*thanks @samspenandsword for the dividers!

Sweet Dreams

This is my first time writing for tumblr OR writing lite smut, so as my therapist might suggest, “I’m not accepting feedback at this time”. Lol. It’s okay. Just be gentle, I have a lot to learn, but that can be fun too…I was a little hesitant to mention the man himself, sans character choice, but I think we all can understand that this is a FICTION and offered in the most respectful and self-indulgent ways possible.

Triggers: little bit of fluff, little bit of smut, handjob, mentions of chronic illness, insomnia, lite themes of somnophilia with consent, female reader, 18+ only

This was fucking ridiculous. You’d always known there would be peaks and valleys, but you were fed up with the inconsistencies of your body. Having a chronic illness was always a challenge, but feeling helpless was the worst symptom of all. P was the first person who didn’t make you feel like a complete invalid. Gently turning over, so as not to wake him, you silently rubbed your eyes raw, cursing your weakness. Some partner. Your breath caught in your throat as he licked his lips, starting to wake up. “You okay?” he mumbled sleepily, wrinkling his nose like a small child.

Shit. “It’s okay baby, go back to sleep” you whispered, annoyed that your insomnia was ruining the night for both of you. He arched an eyebrow, squinting just enough to see you in the early morning light. “What’s up?” he rasped, starting to lean upwards on his elbow, moving the palm of his other hand to your back. Your lower lip started to wobble immediately, propelled by fatigue and exhaustion. 

“I can’t do anything right” you grumbled, voice cracking with defeat.

“Hey, come on. That’s my person…” he trailed off a little blurrily. “What are we doing here? Advil? Water? Hugs?” he questioned, shifting as he pulled you into his body.

Crumpled against his chest, lightly fingering his white t-shirt, your eyes darkened with an idea.

I’ll show…me, you thought, snaking your hand down the middle of your bodies, trailing down his hard chest, soft stomach and bristling pubic hair.

“Oh…mm” his eyes flashed open in confusion as you cupped his groin with one hand, moving your palm slowly over his gray sweatpants.

“I…I’m not sure…ohhhh…” he swayed slightly, bucking his hips in surprise. “Is this a new therapeutic technique you read about?” he smirked into the pillow, furrowing his eyebrows together.

“This could be deeply therapeutic, if we include mouth to mouth” you teased.

“Happy to be of servic…” he hissed in quickly, starting to harden under your ministrations as you quickly moved under the fabric.

Down. Up. Around. (repeat). Down. Up. Around. (repeat)

Down. Up. Around. (repeat). Down. Up. Around. (repeat)

A small whimper escaped his lips. Maybe you COULD do something right, you pondered, as his fingers wrapped around your wrist with encouragement.

“Mmmm…” he started to moan, rhythmically moving with your hand.

Down. Up. Around (repeat). Down. Up. Around (repeat)

Down. Up. Around (repeat). Down. Up. Around. (repeat)

Dragging a pearl of precum higher up the shaft, you noticed his breath hitch and twist inside his chest, trembling slightly.

“Babe, is this hel…hellllping?” he sighed, his eyelids fluttering in ecstasy.

Oh this is helping, you mused, biting down on your lower lip. What a f@cking specimen, unraveling in front of you. You moved up to bite his chin, nuzzling the stubble on his beard and beginning to suck on his neck. “Is this okay?” you vibrated into his sternum, and then straddling his legs in one motion.

“More than ohhhhhh…” he barely got out before bucking his hips upward, chasing his orgasm.

Down. Up. Around (repeat). Down. Up. Around (repeat)

Down. Up. Around (repeat). Down. Up. Around (repeat)

It was the sexiest of meditations and soon began to reach an intoxicating fervor. 

“Oh, I can’t…ohhhh…I can’t…ohhh…”

“Sh baby, sh…You can. Cum. Cum all over me. Let me see you…”

And it was all happening, the contented moan of release, the hot stickiness radiating over your stomach, the musky smell of salt. You worked him through his pleasure and smiled contentedly. You COULD do something right, you surmised, reaching over for some tissues.

“Oh gawwwwd…” he exhaled, looking up through heavy eye-lids. “What the f@ck just happened, baby? Are we doing you next?”

Not tonight, you pouted internally, but he was already sinking lower into the mattress, pulled down by euphoria. 

“Just sleep, my honey. Rest.” you cooed, as he shivered slightly, disappearing back into the warmth of dreams and the comfort of your embrace. He nuzzled into your chest as you lightly fingered the locks of his hair.

Knowing him, if you ever fell asleep, you would find him pulling you back to life, with his curly haired head between your thighs, and his tongue around both your lips. Maybe insomnia wasn’t that bad after all, you thought, cautiously drifting into an anticipatory haze.

Pedro, Painter, Poet

I'm a published author and musician, which takes up a tremendous amount of my professional and personal time. So when I have a recreational moment, I like to explore an artistic medium outside of my expertise. I like utilizing Klimt, Frida Kahlo, Pablo Neruda, Georgia O' Keefe, Shakespeare and many other artists, as you can see! Pedge says he is a self-made man which is 100% true, but I haven't had the heart to tell him he's also made by Bitmoji...Let's get artistic!

Pedro At the Beach

Refugee Day

Pride

Pedge Paints

Make Your Own Kind of Music

Happy Birthday to Me!

Purple Rain

Bi-Visibility Week

Pedro-Tober!

Trick or Treat

Pirate Pedge Poetry

Ode to Gratitude; Marcus Moreno

Pedro Stories Secret Santa

Pedge Bookshop Art

Crime + Punishment

Fantastic Four

The Oberyn Days

Javi's Afterglow

Pike's Picture

Friendly Frankie

Pena's Pose

Dostoyevsky + the Slutty Knee

Dostyevsky + The Dream

All About Eve

April Showers Prompt

Disability Visibility

Clint's Freaky Tales

Fink's Phrases

The Last of Us

Mister Fantastic

Pedge Pose

What Happened to Belen?

Through the Valley

Belen

Hold You Me

Mustafa's New Anthology

God Said No

Baby Pedge

Laker's Shirt

Critic's Choice

The Uninvited

Cannes (Eddington)

WIP; In Cold Blood

Moody Fall

Grump. I is in a bad mood. Here are some pretty pictures for me and anyone else in a bad mood. Now...I am in a slightly better mood. Hmph.

Pedge's Fave 2024 Things A Year of 1sts

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

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

Pedge approves :)

Pedro Stories Secret Santa!

I'm gonna be totally honest. Nothing went according to plan. Chronic illness flare-up, missed Christmas Eve performance, late upload, and bungled festivities with the parentals. But in an odd turn of events this artistic project was the healing balm. Happy Holidays to @savedyounine. Even if things haven't gone as planned, you've got me, Grogu and Din Djarin rootin' for ya!

Unmasked @pedges-world Just Feels Right @ghostofskywalker

The Pensive In the autumn gardens under virgin palm trees, I watched mute and dodge pass the Pensive. I saw them in morning blue, with his gaze so far away; That in the mystery was lost in the blurred sky. I saw him in rosy railings where he wore his brials; And his beautiful evening face. It was a sorrow in the haze… Then walked silently in the candid gloom; And a sad pride lit them up. What would you think? Oh the pearly countenance with innocence and sin! Oh, their wandering glances of the fading plains! He was bewitching beauty; it was the pain that never cries; Without virtue and irony. What would it feel like? In the serene dawn, I saw him come back sad, Heading to the west, mute, dodge, The Pensive! by Jose Maria Eguren

*having taken FANTASTIC liberties with the translated Mando'a (background)

*thanks @thecutestgrotto for the cool dividers + @pedrostories for the prompt!

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

Pedge's Cinema The Trailer

Concessions Stand @iamasaddie is getting us ready for a true snack! See some of the fics we are going to be covering with Javi this awards season...

Triggers: profanity, alcohol consumption, lite flirtation, disastrous attempts at Italian, easy peezy we're just getting started...

Words: 2.6k

The landlady handed you an archaic looking key that was easily the size of a small brick. You half expected her to give you bottles that said “eat me” and “drink me” in Italian, but she merely snickered tossing her hands up with exasperation. “Idiota americano!” she muttered, not wholly under her breath, closing the ornate door behind her, leaving you alone in the somewhat crumbling apartment.

Guess you didn’t need Google Translate after all.

You looked down at your myriad of belongings, heaped into two large suitcases, and the somewhat dilapidated but charmingly rustic Italian apartment that smiled before you. You had arrived. After about 15 hours and one too many espressos, you found yourself at your Italian residence, anxious to start your teaching internship, yet even more enthusiastic about taking a shower. Finding yourself in your mid-forties, embarking on a summer adventure of this scope seemed an implausibility, as you rubbed at your lower back wincingly. As you shuffled slowly down the narrow hallway, you were exponentially grateful for the study abroad program at the college you had recently gained tenure at. Things were finally starting to amount to professional and personal solidity, so why did you still feel so lost? The bumbling taxi drive hadn’t helped, as you felt for the stale bag of airplane peanuts in your pocket. This was the opportunity of a lifetime. You’d been working with students your entire life and we’re finally exploring the international ways to bring creative techniques to life. But maybe your artistic eyes were somehow bigger than your metaphorical stomach. What were you even doing here? You opened the first door on the left, expecting it to be the water closet and were greeted by the imploring eyes of….a pigeon.

A bona fide pigeon. You blinked back and forth at one another curiously until an unexpected shriek from you caused your temporary flat mate to flutter haphazardly around the room, seeking immediate solace through the nearby open window. Sigh. Expect the unexpected. And, no toilet paper. Obviously. You felt around your pocket for the discarded cocktail napkin. Score. You could do this. Your path might not be clear, but you had earned your summer of adventure. All that remained was to take full advantage of the opportunity, and try to enjoy yourself in the process. Besides, weren’t pigeons a sign of Italian good luck? Maybe they needed to poop on you first. Heading him off at the pass, you quickly locked the window for good measure, taking stock of your surroundings. The shower was a dubious looking pipe that awkwardly found its way to a free standing bath tub. The ceiling of the water closet hovered about two feet above you, as you finally expressed gratitude for your diminutive stature. Finally, being short was working to your advantage, once you figured out how to use the faucets. You returned to your quest, shuffling down the hallway to the first door on the right, finding a queen sized, decorative bed frame showcasing the boudoir and more open windows. Luckily, there was no flora, fauna or fowl this time, but your eyes were immediately drawn to the picturesque view. Dragging your fingers lazily across the veil-like linens you gazed at the idyllic panorama before you. As though mirroring your cinematic dreams, the small Italian town stretched out before you, a winding fantasy of artisan shops, coffee, clotheslines and cobblestone.

What a view. Maybe you weren’t so lost after all.

Savoring the afternoon air, you sat cautiously on the pillowy mattress, a very thin layer of particle dust billowing in the sunlight. But nothing could stop you, as you nestled into the linens for your first nap. Any pigeons were welcome to join you.

A blurry feeling of disorientation greeted you, along with a melodic Italian argument, punctuated by puttering vespas. You blinked lazily at the dusky horizon, propping yourself up on your forearms. Your stomach immediately gurgled in response. You had given yourself several days to acclimate to your new Italian environment, before attending classes and symposiums, but hadn’t really considered what your first order of business would be. The stale bag of peanuts was holding little appeal, so you willed yourself out of bed and into the bathroom to tidy up. The apartment was slightly dilapidated and breezy, but the summer charm was already beginning to work its magic. You laid out your wardrobe on the bed before enjoying a luxurious shower, gazing forebodingly at the ceiling, as though it were about to crash down upon you. Just some getting used to. You looked around the small kitchenette, but only found a teaspoon of dried coffee grounds and what appeared to be some dried olives in the cabinet. Tomorrow’s task; find the nearest farmer’s market.

You had gone to inordinate lengths to make your phone internationally ready, but were already encountering difficulties. Other than a smattering of musical terms, you weren’t seriously proficient in Italian and were looking forward to honing your skills, as Duolingo had proven only conceptually effective. But that’s what this entire experience was about! Dipping your toes into the adventure of travel and mystery. You had tried to research this area of town, but could only find the local cinema listings which seemed to feature at least one movie in English. Clutching your chatty stomach with annoyance you slipped into a silky blouse and comfortable jeans. Stop overthinking and head out the door! Grab your Alice in Wonderland sized key and start exploring, woman! Smiling to yourself with chagrin, you checked for your Euro, passport and key, took a deep breath and closed the front door behind you. Ciao Bella!

It had been several decades since you had been to Italy, but your memory did not disappoint. Floating down the cobblestone streets, you were once again thankful to be wearing sneakers as you gazed at the nonnas bringing in their dried laundry and shouting at one another across the way. You were sure you stuck out like a sore thumb as you used your cell phone as a divining rod to arrive at the local cinema art house, patting yourself on the back. Surprised to discover your very limited geographical intuitions had actually served you, as you noticed the only English Film available blazing against the darkening sky;

PADDINGTON 2.

Alright, it wasn’t “La Dolce Vita”, but you were determined to give your stale packet of peanuts a run for its money, if this Italian cinema had anything resembling the Western definition of a snack. As per usual, the Italians were eons ahead of the United States, offering a sampling of pasta, wine and confections, which you unabashedly stocked up on. You sheepishly entered the small movie house, balancing an array of popcorn, snacks and wine, the latter of which was offered from a soda-like dispenser. Your international travels were already getting off to a GREAT start. You gazed around the room appraisingly, surprised to discover that you had the movie house COMPLETELY to yourself. 

Bellisima.

Indulgently plopping down in the absolute center of the room, you nearly squealed like a little girl when the projector clicked to life and the room darkened in response. This was only partially stifled when another figure peripherally entered your vision and began ascending the stairs. You weren’t overly concerned. Having visited Italy nearly 20 years ago, you had received more than your fair share of attention, but now, at 45 you were fairly certain you could blend into the background. It wasn’t until the curious stranger sat in the seat next to you that you glanced sideways with slight annoyance. Your heart immediately dropped at the sight of the standard Italian god that greeted you; well coifed, colorful, a curly mop of hair gelled into submission and a potent, but not disagreeable cologne that mixed with the heady smell of buttered popcorn. You weren’t sure why he had selected the seat immediately next to yours, but were momentarily distracted by his matching box of indulgent snacks. His face broke into an immediate grin as a handful of popcorn fell into your lap with his jostling.

“Popcorn, principessa?” he muttered, jamming a handful into his own mouth and licking the butter from his fingertips playfully. In another lifetime, you might have been irritated, but there was something immediately disarming about this man’s demeanor. You stalled, at the realization that he might not be Italian after all. Thankful he couldn’t view your blushing cheeks, you sputtered, 

“Oh I’m all set!” before wondering if he spoke English, and then realizing he was in the same movie as you. “Uh…par…parlare inglese?” you bumbled, spilling some Golia licorice into his lap in turn and grabbing at them haphazardly before flushing a dark shade of pink. “Scusi…”.

“Si!” he blurted out before wiping his hand embarrassingly over his face with chagrin. “I mean, yes!” He awkwardly grabbed your hand, shaking it emphatically and spilling still more popcorn over the floor and both of you. You both laughed good-naturedly as the movie was preceded by several Italian commercials you didn’t understand.  Settling into the gravitas of the cinematic experience, you quietly chewed your snacks, attempting to be demurely polite, but quite frankly you were starving. You were also immediately charmed by your unexpected movie date, as he uproariously laughed at the smallest jokes, nodding in agreement at the the most poignant dialogue. The snacks eventually discarded in satiation, you hadn’t expected the well of emotion towards the end of the movie, but that was nothing compared to your seat-mate. He was sobbing vociferously, his body quaking with emotion, when you finally reached over to tentatively pat him on the shoulder comfortingly.

“I…fucking…LOVE…this…movie…” he sniffled, between big gulps of air as you smiled knowingly to yourself. God, European men were so much more beautifully emotive than some of their Western counterparts. No wonder you had found yourself currently single in the States. You chanced a quick look at his left hand and found his wedding ring finger unoccupied, but internationally, did that even mean anything? Come on, woman, this isn’t “Only You”; get a grip. Just enjoy your new friendship and move on. You swiped at a few stray tears of your own before the lights gradually increased, leaving you both alone in the lightened movie house.

“Is that not the BEST movie you have ever seen? Without cinematic film star, Nicholas Cage, of course…” he oddly presumed, staring at you with saucer shaped eyes of warmth, a slight tinge of red dotting his cheeks at the corners.

“Uh…well, yes. Quite good, Much more emotional than I was anticipating” you admitted, shuffling your feet awkwardly.

“I feel the same way. It made me want to be a better man. I would even place it above towering films of cinematic greatness like “The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari”….or maybe even “National Treasure 2”” he observed dryly, taking in your inquisitive expression.

“National Treasure 2?” you repeated dumbly, blinking with curiosity at the tenure of your conversation. Who the hell was this guy?

“Oh, I couldn’t possibly bore you with my encyclopedic knowledge of the greatest actor, and my personal friend, Nick Cage” he blushed shyly, rubbing at the back of his neck with humility.

“You know Nick Cage?” you brightened, stumbling upon a fellow afficianado. You worked with artists all the time and loved discussing the creative process. That was the exact reason for your internship.

“Do you know him as well?” he turned his body to more fully face you, the fragrance of cologne intoxicating you slightly in response.

“Oh…certainly not. But I know OF him, he’s quite talented, and eccentric I believe…” you started before he launched into a cinematic info. dump.

“I find his artistic choices to be quite outlandish, but in a very stylized and curated execution…” as he began to wax theatrical for the next 20 minutes. You tried to remain focused on his discussion points, but you were equally distracted by his animated and appealing aesthetic, as much as the lateness of the hour. It wasn’t until you stifled a yawn and shivered slightly that he paused in his information monologue with a look of lamentation. “Oh, principessa, you are quite tired of my ramblings. Please, may I walk you home?”. He stood impressively above you, holding out his hand in inquiry.

You cleared your throat with some embarrassment, as the wine fueled evening crawled up the back of your neck with a seductive tickle. “Oh, certainly mister….?” you inquired, stumbling ever so slightly to your feet as he grabbed you protectively around the waist.

“Javi! You can call me Javi!” he intoned. You weren’t sure, but you thought he brushed a small, affectionate circle at your lower back, turning you towards the exit and guiding your steps. You weren’t one hundred percent sure it was a good idea to lead this stranger right to your door step, but you were even less sure you could make it there on your own, the inefficient osmosis of popcorn and wine happily buzzing inside you. Jet lag didn’t help. But the streets of Italy were warm and inviting, as children continued to play late into the night, and old men sat smoking cigarettes and drinking grappa.

You wrapped your arm warmly around his as he gripped you solidly around the waist. The combination of wine, jet lag and cobblestone streets was proving a challenge, but your newfound friend didn’t seem inconvenienced. If anything, he kept chirping about his favorite movies and inquiring about your own theatrical tastes. It was like something out of a movie, and you decided to give in to the romantic idealism, however short lived it might be.

“This is me” you blinked lazily, arriving at your apartment and happy to return to your queen sized bed. And doubly grateful for your new and unexpected friendship. Javi.

Javi beamed, a dazzling smile dotting his face as you unlocked the door hesitantly. “What time can I call on you tomorrow?” his question immediately poked you in the stomach as you nearly tripped over your own doorway.

“Wh-what?” you sputtered, butterflies immediately erupting in your abdomen and cascading into your fluttering heart. He looked back at you curiously, as you swayed slightly in the night air. “Uh…noon please” you found yourself saying, equally delighted and confused at the surprising turn of events.

“Excellent, we can continue our cinematic discussion, and I will bring my screenplay for your perusal” he stated matter-a-factly before leaning in confidently and kissing you just to the side of your lips, which curled in delight. You blushed at the welcome bristle of his beard as it tickled your face, before he pulled back slightly and inhaled pointedly. “Buona notte, principessa” he whispered before purposefully turning and jaunting down the cobblestone street, his arms swinging happily from side to side, as he disappeared round the corner as quickly as he had entered your evening.

You stared after him, not entirely convinced he wasn’t some sort of cinematic illusion himself. It wasn’t until noon the next day, as you blearily considered the friendly knock at the door that the realization began to dawn on you. Squinting into the sunlight, you gulped dryly at his reappearance, two espressos in hand, as he stood once again, on your doorstep. He seemed to lustfully drink in your disheveled head of hair and naked legs which peeked from beneath the large white t-shirt you had haphazardly settled into before bed.

“Javi?” you rasped, rubbing the sleep from your eyes, and smiling dopily. It seemed your cinematic dreams had temporarily come to life.

“Buongiorno, principessa!” Javi beamed, shoving the espresso emphatically into your hand and downing his own in one shot. “What movie are we seeing today?” he beamed, removing his glasses and smiling broadly.

This might be the beginning of a beautiful friendship….

*Thanks @dornish-queen for the cool footage!

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