I Have No Idea If This Quote Is Accurate Though I Could Easily See Papi Pascal Saying Something Like

Through the Valley

Thank you to @auteurdelabre for our beautiful coloring book! Pedge and I have been in mourning, and trying to avoid Joel Miller at all costs. Imagine my suprise when I discovered this image felt pretty Joel-coded. I paired it with the lyrics as sung by Ashley Johnson...

I walk through the valley of the shadow of death And I fear no evil because I'm blind to it all And my mind and my gun they comfort me Because I know I'll kill my enemies when they come Surely goodness and mercy will follow me all the days of my life And I will dwell on this earth forevermore Said, I walk beside the still waters and they restore my soul But I can't walk on the path of the right because I'm wrong Well, I came upon a man at the top of a hill Called himself the savior of the human race Said he come to save the world from destruction and pain But I said, "How can you save the world from itself?" 'Cause I walk through the valley of the shadow of death And I fear no evil because I'm blind Oh, and I walk beside the still waters and they restore my soul But I know when I die my soul is damned

*never damned to me honey

@littlemisspascal 

@lizette50 @beefrobeefcal @sawymredfox @anelva

@wordywarriorwrites @burntheedges @inept-the-magnificent @timelordfreya 

@schnarfer @devineconjuring @mermaidgirl30 @galaxyedging @joelalorian

@joelmillerisapunk @jennaispunk @sheepdogchick3 @marcus-is-my-muse @guiltyasdave 

@copperhalfcent @bluesweaters15 @drewharrisonwriter @darkheartgatita

@harriedandharassed @brittmb115 @confusedpuffin @yorksgirl @quicax3

@shaunasflannel @shinyanchorobject

Pedro Pascal naming 4 movies that impacted him the most

'All About Eve' dir. Joseph L. Mankiewicz Margo, an established theatre actress, appoints Eve, an aspiring actress, as her personal assistant. However, Margo is unaware of Eve's intention to take over her career.

'Poltergeist' dir. Tobe Hooper A family's dream home turns into their worst nightmare when evil spirits rise up to torment them and possess the soul of their innocent daughter.

'Do the Right Thing' dir. Spike Lee In a Brooklyn neighbourhood, the long-simmering racial tensions between diverse communities erupt into brutal violence over the course of a single summer day.

'Fanny and Alexander' dir. Ingmar Bergman During the early twentieth century, Fanny and Alexander are the children of the Ekdahl family in a Swedish town. They are living a peaceful life until their father Mr. Oscar dies.

PedgesBookshop

We're open for business! Joel doesn't seem to know that yet, but stop in the foyer to grab an iced latte before sitting in the spacious chairs and cozying up to our local orange tabby, Rascal. Highly recommend reading "Crime and Punishment" to start, as recommended by PP himself. Pedge is excited for the ongoing literary discord...and possible smooching at Pedge's Bookshop!

Series Masterlist

*featuring art from Franz Marc

Pedro Boys

Pedge and I have FINALLY started writing fics for the Pedro Boys and we wanted to have a spot where they could all catch up! Check out the masterlist below!

Pedro Pascal Pedge Cuddle Couch New York, New York Series Baby's Beats (short) Javi Gutierrez Afterglow: Phoenix Rising Marcus Pike Charcuterie Challenge A Different Happy Ending Pike's Place Pike's Playlist (short)

Frankie Morales Moody Frankie Frankie's Favorites (short) Joel Miller Moody Joel Peach and Apple Pie Crime and Punishment Joel's Jives (short) Max Phillips Blood Sucking Witch Max's Mix (short) Javier Pena Afterglow Series Pena's Playlist (short) Dieter Bravo Yes Chef! My Darling Muse Dieter's Deets (short) Marcus Moreno Thanksgiving Delights Din Djarin Unmasked Platonic Love

Crime and Punishment The Argument

Grab a latte! What is Frankie doing here? Lounge around in the foyer with this sweet fic "Routine" @endlessthxxghts before heading into the Bookshop!

Triggers: profanity, Last of Us canon + references, references to murder/violence/prostitution, argument, alcohol consumption, MAJOR spoilers for "Crime and Punishment", this chapter got a bit more angsty than I predicted, with just a little bit of passion...

Series Masterlist

Words: 3k

“So are you guys like, boyfriend and girlfriend now?” Ellie bluntly stated, as she peeled carrots at the kitchen sink.

“The hell?” Joel stopped what he was doing to look at Ellie incredulously. “Who told you that?” he huffed, attempting to appear nonchalant as he returned to the stew boiling on the stovetop.

“Nobody. I just was wonderin’…” she mischievously retorted, returning to the task at hand. 

Maybe Joel had rushed things a bit. Looking out the kitchen window, he nervously dragged his hands down the front of his jeans, awaiting your dinner arrival. Maybe he shouldn’t have worn plaid. It was true, the easy friendship that had developed between the two of you was all Joel could think about recently, but maybe including Ellie in the discussion had been premature.

“‘Sides, we need to talk about your school work, or LACK thereof…” Joel deflected quickly, glancing over at the decorated dining room table, nodding in affirmation at the dried lavender placed front and center.

“Jesus, haven’t we talked about ‘Crime and Punishment’ enough this last week?” Ellie scoffed, gathering the carrots clumsily for the stew and shoving them towards Joel abrasively. “I think the school teach has caught your eye in more ways than one…” she muttered sarcastically, skulking out of the kitchen and leaving Joel with a slightly petrified look on his face. 

Yup, too soon.

Joel didn’t have a moment to overthink the situation, because a knock at the door quickly followed.

“I (Don’t) got (get) IT!” their voices collided in the hallway as Ellie raced to the front door, a wintry draft blowing inside quickly.

“Hi Ellie!” you chirped nervously, holding a bottle of bramble berry wine bartered from the Tipsy Bison. “I come bearing gifts!” you shoved the wine enthusiastically in her face and quickly withdrew it. “Wait, are you old enough to be drinking?” you immediately questioned as Joel’s presence loomed large in the background.

“‘Spect she’s old enough for most things, if she took her head outta her ass” Joel mumbled with a pout.

“LANGUAGE!” you both exclaimed, giggling slightly at Joel’s chagrined expression. 

“Come on in, teach, or winter’s comin’ in with ya!” Joel reprimanded, heading over to the fireplace and stoking it happily, now that his back was to you. He could do this. It was just a date. Not even a date. A literary discussion.

“Thanks for invitin’ me on your date, I LOVE three wheelin’ it” Ellie bantered, setting the wine on the table and heading into the kitchen snootily. Joel whirled around with annoyance, proffering the fire iron awkwardly, “Get the NICE glasses from up top, if you can reach ‘em!” he huffed, catching your smirking expression before he softened his tone. “Figure you can have a small glass, if you behave” he muttered, setting the fire iron down and picking up the nearby book.

“Couldn’t put it down, teach” he shrugged sheepishly. “Brought Ellie up to speed, we’ve got LOTS of questions”.

“Glad I can be of service” you grinned, pulling out your own copy of “Crime and Punishment” and waving it brazenly. “Things are starting to get interesting!”

“Can I take your coat?” Joel offered, striding towards you and reaching for your scarf before drawing his hand back tentatively.

Quickly disentangling yourself from the winter wear you handed it to Joel shyly as your hands brushed accidentally in the transfer, but Joel didn’t pull away. The crackle of the fire wasn’t the only electricity in the room, as you were poised magnetically, both holding the coat and scarf in tandem.

“That’s a real pretty color” Joel rasped, admiring the burgundy sweater you had donned in anticipation of your literary date. You swallowed dryly at the ongoing eye contact, desperate to look away, but seemingly incapable. The flickering fire highlighted the sharp outline of his jaw and dark pools of tumult hiding behind those hypnotic brown eyes. 

Damn, Joel was an attractive man. 

You had certainly noticed it before, but the cascading dip of his lower lip was pulling you into a sensuous warmth, broken only by…

“Are you guys gonna kiss??!!” Ellie’s voice pointedly shot from the hallway, as you both dropped the jacket to the ground.

“Damn it, Ellie what’d I say about interruptin’?” Joel quipped, picking up the jacket and rubbing at his lower back with the effort. “Have a seat, teach” he gestured to the dining room table as Ellie smiled brightly with affirmation.

“Joel’s been catching me up on the book. I like it. There aren’t many puns though” she teased, pulling out a chair for you and grabbing the bowls for dinner.

“Puns?” you questioned, inhaling the soft fragrance of the dried lavender, and fingering the tablecloth lightly.

“If it’s not a dad-bod, what is it?” Ellie’s voice drifted in from the kitchen as Joel paused in the hallway, irritated.

“A FATHER figure! Get it?!” 

Joel rolled his eyes good-naturedly, opening the bramble berry wine for the three of you before sitting at the head of the table. “I think we need some more nicknames if we’re gonna keep ‘em all straight in the book” he offered, grabbing a nearby napkin and draping it across his lap.

“Alright, Luzhin is pretty easy, but the Sridya…Scridya…”

“I jus’ keep callin’ him Squid-guy” Ellie jested, setting two bowls down and returning to the kitchen for more.

“Svidrigaylov…” you pulled out your best Russian accent, as Joel burst into an easy grin.

“The Snake…” he hissed playfully. “Don’t trust either of ‘em one bit” he judged, as Ellie returned with her own dinner plated, sitting between you.

“Rub a dub, dub, thanks for the grub!” Ellie chaffed, digging in to the stew and closing her eyes rapturously.

Joel huffed affirmatively, mirroring her enjoyment as you joined them.

“Alright, do I need to worry about any spoilers? Ellie, this stew is really quite good!” you praised, opening your book casually to remind yourself about the talking points. Joel beamed clandestinely from the side as Ellie chomped away.

“Caught’r up on everything I know so far; the murder, the family, Sonia…” Joel rattled off the list expertly.

“She the prostitute?” Ellie surmised, grabbing for a biscuit at the center of the table.

“Ellie!” Joel snapped, his eyes darkening quickly.

“What?” 

“Yes, she’s the prostitute” you broke in diplomatically. “Without giving too much away, I can see your character analysis is already pretty astute. Joel, I’m still curious, what makes you distrust the other two characters? They both present themselves as legitimate and upstanding citizens…” you reached for a biscuit as well, curious as to Joel’s conclusions.

“Somethin’ about that Luzhin always seemed too good to be true. Ellie knows how I feel about it, but don’t trust anybody who claims to be in the light when their actions are mostly in the dark. Take the Fireflies for example…” he shoveled a few bites of the stew into his mouth wholeheartedly.

“I thought you said Tommy was with the Fireflies…” Ellie retorted, drawing her hands into her lap placatingly. “I know…knew some people who thought they were…okay…” she trailed off, suddenly losing her appetite.

“Well, sometimes it’s hard to tell from the start, what someone’s intentions are; you know that” Joel instructed, taking a sip of bramble berry wine and registering his delight, toasting you ceremoniously. Joel really was a good father figure. You wondered how it came so easily to him, when by all accounts Ellie didn’t seem to actually be his daughter.

“I guess” Ellie pondered darkly. “We ran into all sorts of people on the road” she mumbled, pushing her plate away suddenly. “'Crime and Punishment' seems like a walk in the park, compared to…everything else” Ellie looked out the window vacantly. You often caught her with a similar nebulous expression in class before drawing her back into discussion. Joel and Ellie were really two peas in a pod. You didn’t want to press the matter, and looking over at Joel he gave a quick nod of dissent, beckoning you to move on to another topic.

“That’s true” you began, sipping your own wine hesitantly. “It’s not every literary classic that begins with a murder within the first few chapters. The two sisters, Alvona and Lizaveta are the first in a series of tragedies listed in the book…”.

“That nightmare unsettled me right quick” Joel agreed, still gazing at Ellie concernedly. “Thought she was nearly come back from the dead” he shivered slightly, returning to his stew.

“And there is a big thematic extrapolation about Lazarus when Rascal goes to see Sonia” you concurred, slowly re-engaging as Ellie rejoined the conversation. “Are you familiar with the story of Lazarus?”

“Can’t say we really take to the ‘religious’ types, teach” Joel interjected, taking a large swig of wine as he continued to watch Ellie cautiously. You followed suit, downing the rest of your glass in one gulp, unsure of the subtext in the moment. Maybe “Crime and Punishment” WASN’T a good curriculum option for the spring… “How’s that wine, Ellie? Why don’t you thank the teach for bringin’ it by” he encouraged, pouring himself another glass.

“Yeah, thanks teach” Ellie stated perfunctorily, taking a small polite sip and returning to her stew.

“It’s no trouble” you smiled, breathing a tentative sigh of relief. “Lazarus isn’t really a saint or religious figure, but he’s pretty important in Christian theology as a literal and symbolic representation of resurrection” you poured another glass of wine for yourself, feeling your tongue loosen slightly with the warmth of the beverage.

“What, like the infected?” Ellie’s eyes shot open in surprise. “You’ve seen ‘em, right? Bang! Shoot ‘em dead, they pop right back up!” she ladled another spoonful of stew into her mouth skeptically.

“I’m not sure that’s what Dostoyevsky was referencing, but it’s an interesting analogy” you acquiesced, taking another sip of wine. “In this case, Lazarus acts as a symbol for the potential spiritual and emotional rebirth of Rascalnikov. I mean, Rascal, as we like to call him” you nodded to Joel who was chewing with determination, bobbing his head. “Any other characters you had a question about?” you wiped your forehead slightly with the napkin, feeling the affects of your second glass start to coarse through your veins heatedly. Maybe you should slow down a notch.

“That other family, Joel was telling me about. The drunk guy and the coughing wife with kids…” Ellie finished her stew quickly, turning up her nose repugnantly at the wine in her glass. “Mr. Marmelade?” she quipped, rising to clear her dishes before Joel could reproach her. He poured both of you a third class of wine, polishing off the bottle for the evening, before you could protest.

“Marmeladov and Katerina?” you asked, finishing your own stew in the hopes of balancing that third glass of wine.

“Yeah, they remind me of somebody, I just couldn’t tell ya who” Ellie called from the kitchen, starting to wash the dishes as you looked over at Joel quickly. He shrugged good-naturedly, his cheeks a very light, reddish tinge from the warmth of the fireplace and the wine.

“Well, I don’t want to get too far ahead of myself. We’ll see them again in future chapters, so keep your eye on them!” you called back, the table taking on an ethereal glow with that third glass of wine. Guess it was a little stronger than you had figured. Joel’s eyes sparkled with a contented sheen as you watched his chest rise and fall steadily in the flickering light of the fireplace. You wondered what it would be like to kiss him. Licking your lips voraciously, you downed the remaining dregs of your wine, searching for a bit of liquid courage. 

Maybe this WAS a date. 

Joel stared back at you, his gaze drifting over the totality of your body seductively. Usually, you might have felt a bit like prey in the sights of a nearby hunter, but there was a softness and a gravity to Joel’s countenance that seemed to hypnotically draw you in, not repulse you. His eyes flicked up to meet yours almost telepathically.

“Why don’t you guys just kiss already and get it over with?” Ellie’s voice broke the spell abruptly as Joel’s head snapped to attention with a searing look of reprimand.

“Sorry, sorry!” Ellie put her hands up in mock surrender, taking the remaining plates and bussing them into the kitchen. Your cheeks reddened slightly with embarrassment, catching a sideways look at Joel who seemed to mirror your awkwardness.

“Ain’t you got some homework to do?” Joel called from the dining room table, the corner of his mouth betraying a thread of humor as you chuckled softly. Joel stood from the table quietly, heading over to your chair and pulling it out for you deftly, taking your hand gently in his. Even the numbing effects of the wine didn’t dull your surprise at the intimate gesture, as you felt the calloused brush of his fingers against your delicate skin. You didn’t have any trouble imagining them elsewhere, feeling your face flush at the unbidden fantasy.

He led you over to the fireplace, picking up his copy of “Crime and Punishment” and settling in for discussion. “You warm enough, teach?” his honeyed voice seemed to melt your resolve one iota further as you shrank under his heated gaze.

“Oh yes. Quite warm” you squeaked, as Ellie attempted to sneak past you both and up the stairs.

“Night, teach, thanks for comin’!” she finally called, at the top of the stairs. “Can’t wait to see what happens next!” before vanishing into her bedroom.

“Damn teenagers” Joel smirked thumbing through the book lazily. “She’s a good kid, and I’m glad she has you for guidance” he observed, setting the book down between you and turning his body towards yours. “She’ll always have me, but a man’s not the same. Needs a good woman in her life to…confide things in” Joel nodded to himself resolutely, his gaze starting to vanish in the hazy effervescence of the glowing fireplace. “I don’t like to push, but…you’d be just the ear for…keeping secrets and stuff” he trailed off, his eyes glazing over tiredly in the flicker of the nearby flame.

“Secrets?” you whispered, finally allowing yourself to fully take in Joel’s distinctive profile. His strong features, peppered beard, aquiline nose…and lips. Plush lips. You dragged a heavy breath through your mouth plaintively, wondering how Joel might respond to the secrets from your own past. Joel turned back to look at you fixedly, his eyes boring a hole in your already fluttering heart.

“We’ve all got secrets” he mumbled, his eyes unabashedly drifting lower to your lips, as you watched his jaw tick nervously with anticipation. “Ellie, me…you” he drawled, somehow moving closer to your body without budging an inch. He paused, his face a soft visage of authenticity, dotted by wisps of skepticism. “Don’t ‘spect you were always a teach” he ventured, his fingers twitching lightly by his side. You swallowed harshly, taking in the familiar fragrance of leather and soap, as his brows furrowed in concentration.

“What do you mean?” you managed to croak forlornly, unable to break the enchantment the night was providing.

“Just seem pretty world-wise for a teach is all” Joel muttered, dangerously close to your ear, sending a light shiver down your back expectantly.

“Are we doing this?” you questioned pointedly, picking up the book defensively, if for no other reason than to provide a small barrier between yourself and your own desire.

“What?’

“Talking about our past?”

Joel froze forebodingly, inching back ever so slightly at the mere suggestion. “Lots of things happened in the time before. Don’t mean we’ve got to talk about it…” he sulked, licking his lips dryly. “Just seems like you know a thing or two about…sufferin’”.

“We’re in the apocalypse Joel, the whole world knows a heap of suffering” you stated, more accusingly than intended. Things felt like they were going off the rails slightly. Was it the wine? Maybe “Crime and Punishment” wasn’t the literary aphrodisiac you had surmised. “Why, is there something you want to tell me about your past?” the words were out of your mouth before you had a chance to weigh them, immediately feeling the tonality of the room shift coldly.

“I just thought…” Joel stared frigidly at your now stolid expression, the recent magnetism receding into the stymied background. “Nevermind…”.

“No Joel, tell me what you meant by that statement? I seem…what? World weary? Dejected? Alone?”

“Didn’t mean nothin’ by it” Joel leaned back, grabbing the book from your grasp and holding it tenderly in his lap. “Just seemed like…you understood, that’s all”.

That was the problem, of course. Joel had easily seen through your academic facade and wasn’t too far off the mark. No one in Jackson knew about your questionable background, and they certainly didn’t need to. So long as you kept to yourself and isolated as much as possible, you could keep everyone in the commune at an arm’s length. But it seemed that Joel was impermeable to that forced distance. Maybe he too, understood a bit more personally about the type of alienation that Dostoyevsky’s writing seemed to embody. A cavernous vacuum of longing nipped at your heels tenaciously, as you stood, swaying slightly with the shift.

“Where ya goin’?” Joel sat up quickly, his hand outstretched to steady your frame, as you desperately looked around for your winter coat. 

“Gonna head home now. Lots of…reading to do…” you stuttered, tripping slightly over the hand-made coffee table and grabbing at your coat and scarf.

“Don’t go just yet, let me walk ya…” Joel rose shakily, clearing his throat with concern. He hadn’t intended to offend you. It had been a long time since he’d spoken at length about anything other than patrols, and he felt rusty at best.

“It’s okay, the cold air will do me good!” you clipped, stuffing your arms into your coat and jerking the front door open briskly.

“Will ya wait a goddam second?” Joel spat, grabbing his own coat and slamming the door behind him.

“WHAT Joel? What is it you want to hear me say? What kind of suffering is it you want me to reveal?” you turned on your heel, a new gust of wind biting at your reddening cheeks.

“Now wait a minute! I didn’t mean…”

“I don’t see you stepping into the sainthood anytime soon! Don’t think I haven’t heard the scuttlebutt around town…” you challenged, surprisingly fueled by the evening’s wine and pointing an accusatory finger at Joel’s broad chest.

“Well, whatever you heard, it’s probably true” Joel sneered, immediately biting his tongue with regret. “Some secrets should probably stay hidden” he darkly confessed, the wind whipping the brown curls of his hair across his forehead.

You hoped the tears forming in the corners of your eye went unnoticed, but Joel’s face immediately softened with the acknowledgement. “See you at the Bookshop, Joel” you sniffled, wiping at your eyes with annoyance and turning your back to him quickly. Joel grabbed at your elbow tenderly, but you quickly jerked it out of his grasp. “Don’t follow me”.

If you had glanced behind you, you would have seen Joel’s beleaguered expression, as he watched you go, wondering how the night had dissolved so quickly into an unintended argument. But you didn’t look back. You just put one definitive step in front of the other, your booted feet crunching the snow beneath you, until you arrived at your own home, collapsing in a heap of silent and lonely tears.

Pedro's Holiday Feast Family Dinner #2

Hey folks! Welcome to our second Family Dinner! I can't believe Thanksgiving is next week, but don't forget to keep tagging @pedges-world and #pedrosholidayfeast for all of your yummy treats! Let the feasting continue!

Appetizer

This is my first Thanksgiving on Tumblr, but shoutout to @dornish-queen for this fun Fall Artwork. I personally will forever envision the traditional holiday with this new vibe...

Entree

Check out this fun Fall Mini-Series with a special Thanksgiving Episode by @corazondebeskar-reads!

Dessert

I couldn't help myself, and assembled a special Thanksgiving Mood Board :)

Amuse-Bouche

@dornish-queen Has done it again! Pedge...I think...they're behind you...A little something for the road...

*thanks @bernardsbendystraws for the cool dividers!

In case anyone is still hungry, double back for seconds at our First Family Dinner, and join us next week for a special Thanksgiving Reveal! Happy Feasting!

Moody Dio

OMG I haven't even seen this episode. This is what it looks like when you are avoiding your tax preparation, but I don't even care. Look how cute our goth criminal is! I want to squish him...

What Happened to Belen? Part Two

Grab a Latte! Don't forget to check out Ana's Archive! The largest open library in human history, with millions of books and papers preserved forever!

Triggers: profanity, pornography, smoking, attempts at Spanish, contemporary canon for "Narcos" character, fainting, discussions of the book "What Happened to Belen" which involve topics of abortion, miscarriage, homicide, women's rights, medical malpractice, judicial injustice, menstruation, harassment etc...

Series Masterlist

Words: 5k

“Take it outside” you muttered, standing quickly….too quickly, and nearly tripping over the base of the counter at your feet. Everything was so blindingly bright. Stars were beginning to enter your periphery once again, if you could just get some more Advil….Your thoughts started to slog slowly forward, as though on a malfunctioning assembly line, with your feet dragging haphazardly behind them.

“Maybe you should sit back down, hermosa…” Pena began, circling the counter to meet you. “Just get that out of my face!” you pushed your hand against Pena’s perspiration dotted chest, as a high pitched ringing sound drifted into your mind scape. What was happening? You couldn’t think straight, couldn’t see straight. “Hermosa, you’re white as a sheet” but Pena’s voice was nearly inaudible as you focused tightly on the mustache decorating his plump lips. They were moving slowly, SO slowly before the power went out, leaving everything pitch black and sedate....

“Hot as hell out there, hermosa” he huffed, coughing slightly and rushing to help you with the stack of books. “So perhaps you can now tell me, what DID happen to Belen?”…he jested, the smell of nicotine tickling your nose pungently. Your stomach lurched slightly at the fragrance sensitivity. This Advil didn’t seem to be doing much, and your hormones were still raging out of control. You swallowed hard to down the rising bile in your throat, wondering if you wanted to slap Pena across the face or the ass first. “Perhaps I have overstayed my welcome, hermosa?” a concerned look crossed his face as he gauged your unknowable expression. 

“No, not at all!” you rallied, wiping the sweat from your brow and attempting to regroup. Pena had been nothing but conciliatory; it was your body you seemed to be at war with. 

“Let’s put you to work, agent…” you teased, motioning to the display case and putting your apron back on. “One of my favorite parts of the book is the description of the many women and organizations that rallied for Belen’s aid” you encouraged, returning with your book to the display counter and starting to judiciously display your books of choice.

“Excellent” Pena quipped, taking a step back to admire your burgeoning handiwork.

“At first, the word ‘abortion’ wasn’t even used in legal contexts. It couldn’t be written. What isn’t written does not exist. When in doubt, they used the word ‘homicide’. This didn’t happen all that long ago. In 2016 when Belen’s case first came to light, omitting the existence of abortions was part of the lexicon. But with the inclusion of women’s rights groups like the National Campaign for Abortion, representatives from Pan y Rosas, CLADEM and empathetic journalists, Belen’s story started to gain a voice”.

Pena picked up the book and read from the back cover, “Freedom for Belen! Sex ed so we can decide! Contraceptives avoid abortions! Legalize abortion! Save lives!”. 

You gingerly kneeled down, stacking the books aesthetically, hopeful it might grab some attention. “You know, in Argentina, as in many places the world over, you have to make noise outside the country so that people at home will hear about it. A woman’s failure to choose motherhood, whatever the reason, instantly makes her a criminal. Women must reassert the right to say no to something unwanted, whether it’s a partner, a pregnancy, sex or a traditional way of life. They must reassert the right to say no to the social mandates of submission and obedience. And saying no to these things means saying yes to our bodies, our emotional lives, our sexuality, to our participation in society, work, politics and everywhere else” you wiped your hands on your apron admiring your work.

“Well done, hermosa” Pena observed, reading the rest of the book cover, “Belen, you’re not alone. Chin up, Belen we’re with you. We’re fighting for you and for women who’ve been unjustly incarcerated all over the world.” Pena paused to reflect momentarily. “I’m…embarrassed I didn’t know more…” he massaged the back of his neck awkwardly. “This isn’t just about women’s rights. It’s about justice, and I know a thing or two about that…” he placated.

You stood quickly and immediately realized your mistake as bright orbs of crackling energy drifted into your periphery and the smell of iron tickled your nose. Pena was at your side in an instant, hand lightly fixed at your waist, as you swayed unsteadily.  “Hermosa?” his voice seemed to be coming from quite a distance away, as you closed your eyes and took a deep breath through your nose. “S-sorry, s-stood up too fast!” you deflected, leaning against him securely for a millisecond before returning to the counter, shaking your head from side to side. It WAS hot in here, and you were more embarrassed then ever at your momentary lapse. Menstruation was SUCH a drag, but you didn’t want to let on about your recent diagnosis. As if womanhood didn’t feel debilitating enough, you had already experienced years of struggle with endometriosis and were newly considering a hysterectomy. You didn’t find yourself in Belen’s position, but it wasn’t hard to imagine the helplessness she might have felt, judged by the medical community, government, society at large…and maybe even…herself. This was a piece of information you were determined to keep clandestine. Javier Pena’s eyes swam before you as his image coalesced into focus. “Did you hear me?” he gently asked again.

“Uh…sure….yes!” you piped up, immediately unsure of your response. He nodded curtly bringing you a stool and placing it behind the counter for your respite. “Perhaps my endless questions have needlessly exhausted you”. Your cheeks reddened with the heat AND embarrassment as you chastised yourself for existing. “I’m fine…just overheated is all” you huffed as Pena cleared his throat and sat back down across from you. 

“So, what happened to Belen? How did she find redemption in such a storm of injustice?” he asked.

You sighed heavily, retrieving your book and flipping through the pages. “Well, at first she had to survive in the prison system. Family visits, challenging circumstances, holidays…This was an environment she had never been in before…”. You read, 

“I kept walking around the prison and talking to women who were there for reasons unknown to me. I realized some are doing time for murder and others for stealing, and that many are inside because they covered for a partner or family member. Soledad told Belen about a young woman called Maria Magdalena. The doctors who treated her at the hospital accused her of having an abortion. And that’s not right. medical staff have a duty of care”.

Pena dragged his thumb across his bottom lip pensively, starting to bite at the cuticles. “Seems like it all happened so fast. One minute she was living her life, the next…” his voice trailed off reflexively.

“There was no DNA evidence. The report mentioned more than one fetus, and none of them were preserved. There were no records showing Belen’s admission even. There is no evidence, there is simply none. The doctors who accused her were still living their lives. The men who convicted her continued like nothing happened.”

“And I’m still in here” Belen says. All I’m asking is for them to reevaluate the case. They don’t know what it’s like waking up in the same place every day, being away from your family ever day. They’re in their homes. They don’t know what it’s like to have to file a request just to see a friend. The judges are in their chambers, smoking, drinking coffee. And they have to live with the fact that they sentenced me to this place. What happened to me happened because I couldn’t get 20,000 pesos in less than forty eight hours. If I’d had the money, I could’ve defended myself. But I thought, why should I have to pay money when I did nothing wrong? Worse still, they tried to pass off a miscarriage as a murder, seemingly for political gain. ”

Pena had run out of words, reaching into his back pocket for another cigarette and rolling it between his fingers.

“In our society, when people wan to hide something, they find someone to blame. They point their fingers at those who can’t defend themselves, and they accuse them. They don’t listen to them. These people become guilty because of their faces, their clothes, because they’re poor or because they’re women.”

“Luckily, Soledad began to identify the discrepancies at Belen’s first trial, 

“The doctor has a legal obligation to maintain confidentiality unless expressly told otherwise by the patient. The patent’s silence can in no way be seen to provide a valid ad rational motive to breach the physician’s duty to professional confidentiality. All the evidence adduced in Belen’s case should have been inadmissible. The physician’s and midwives’ testimonies were in themselves a crime. She was convicted without valid evidence. In addition, no one can be compelled to testify against himself. It is a cruel, latent and ignoble violation of this precept to use the distress of a women who had an abortion to report her crime, whether wrenched via exploited confession or duress through a state of physical and spiritual helplessness. Moreover, public interest cannot justify so inhuman a dilemma; prison or death.”

“Finally, some common sense!” Pena exclaimed, dangling the cigarette in his mouth and immediately removing it under your scolding stare. “Lo siento, hermosa, continue por favor…” he returned to delicately fingering the unused smoke.

“At the time, Belen did not know she was pregnant, nor did she look pregnant. She never stopped menstruating and felt no movement in her belly, her body was normal and her breasts hadn’t grown. She and her mother went to the emergency room for the abdominal pain. A person who wants to commit homicide—a person who knows they’re going to have a baby and is determined to cause their death simply doesn’t go to a hospital”

“Obviously!” Pena retorted, grabbing for his lighter and subsequently tossing it on the counter impotently. 

You shook your head reprimandingly, “It was nearly two years of waiting and resolving before Belen had her second day in court, facing her original sentence, this time with Soledad at her side. Belen recounts, 

“First of all, I’d like to say I didn’t know I was pregnant, so you can’t tell me that I committed the atrocity that I’m being accused of. How can you say I cut the umbilical cord? Where is the DNA evidence that proves the discovered fetus of 36 weeks was mine? They gave me an intravenous sedative and when I awoke, I was covered in blood and police officers were examining my private parts. No one looked after me, before treating me like I was a murderer…”

These trials end up being more moral than legal, ironically enough as God is said to serve in the capital. The morning in court when the judges read her the grounds for her conviction, Belen cries again. Unlike the day her verdict was read the courthouse i packed because now people in Tucuman know what is happening. “Calm down, no one can see you anymore” a prison guard encourages. Now raise your head and look outside. All these people are here for you”. Belen sits up, at first fearfully. Finally, Belen relaxes. she cries, but this it’s different”. 

“Some of us can raise our voices and have the privilege of health care access. Others can afford to become mothers. Others experience the same troubles Belen did but are less formatted because their cases aren’t talked about, and so they are still in prison. Then there are others who aren’t here to tell their stories today, because they died trying, during miscarriage. This issue moves me. A great deal. I still don’t understand how it is that in the 21st century we women still have to relinquish our independence and our freedom to a society that imposes its way of life on us. Why do we have to be the talk of the town? Why do we have to air our most private decisions?”.

Pena gulped in silence, possibly reflecting on his own private decisions, playing with the lighter in front of him. You grabbed a tissue from your apron and wiped your brow profusely. The AC had been broken all week, but it was supposed to be getting cooler, not hotter. The words of the book began to blur and dance in front of you, as you put a wearied hand over your eyes.  “What time does your shift end?” Pena asked, already aware of how propositional his question sounded, but your countenance was pale and blanched as compared to the start of the day. Something was obviously wrong, but he didn’t want to leave you alone in whatever plight you found yourself. 

Unhearing, you sallied forth. “Where was I?” you blinked, squinting at the book with determination. “Eventually she has her day in court, and things start to change slowly but surely.

“Belen starts to receive support from everyone around her at the correctional facility, online and even abroad, The organizations put together an online campaign to denounce the press’ persecution of Belen and call for people to leave her alone. The campaign consisted of people taking selfies with a sign that says are you looking for Belen? I’m Belen. Men and women of all ages, some angry, others amused, some bearded, others very young, hold the same sign and post it online with a caption—‘They’re trying to infringe on her privacy, to see her face. But what they don’t realize is that Belen isn’t just one person. She thousands! Belen is all of us!’”

Pena leaned back against the stool beaming momentarily, before absentmindedly lighting the cigarette in front of him and taking a deep drag. “Victory” he puffed before viewing your incredulous face. His expression immediately fell with chagrin, considering how to snub out the cigarette, whilst desperately inhaling. “Lo siento, hermosa” he mumbled into the cigarette, possibly trying to inhale it in one draft. He looked towards the front door, considering an ill-timed exit before taking in your pained look. The fragrant aroma of the cigarette usually would have been fine, but your head was pounding and your abdomen was irritatingly alight with menstrual cramps and distress.

“Take it outside” you muttered, standing quickly….too quickly, and nearly tripping over the base of the counter at your feet. Everything was so blindingly bright. Stars were beginning to enter your periphery once again, if you could just get some more Advil….Your thoughts started to slog slowly forward, as though on a malfunctioning assembly line, with your feet dragging haphazardly behind them.

“Maybe you should sit back down, hermosa…” Pena began, circling the counter to meet you.

“Just get that out of my face!” you pushed your hand against Pena’s perspiration dotted chest, as a high pitched ringing sound drifted into your mind scape. Oh shit, what was happening? You couldn’t think straight, couldn’t see straight.

“Hermosa, you’re white as a sheet” but Pena’s voice was nearly inaudible as you focused tightly on the mustache decorating his plump lips. They were moving slowly, SO slowly before the power went out, leaving everything pitch black and sedate.

This was the WORST mattress you had ever been on, including the taut pillows. It felt hard as a rock. To say nothing of the nicotine infused fragrance of whatever hotel room you found yourself in. Your eyes blinked open hazily, taking in your surroundings. Why did this hotel room look exactly like a Barnes and Nobles?

“There she is” Pena’s voice was amplified to that of a megaphone as the tingling sensation in your arms and legs started to dissipate. You squinted up into the bright lights of the ceiling as Pena’s concerned expression drifted into your line of sight. You licked your lips to say something, but your mouth was as dry as cotton. Were you on the floor?

“Power outage?” you heard your voice rasp quietly, attempting to take stock of the situation.

“I guess you could say that” Pena chuckled softly, running a hand across your forehead. Oh my God, did you have your head on his thigh? You tried to sit up, but felt as heavy as an anvil, as he placed a hand behind your neck. “You sort of had a personal power outage, before fainting into my arms, hermosa” he smiled. “Had me worried, I nearly called the police”. You sank back down against his lap for a second, waiting for the disorientation to pass. “I’m a total ass, no more cigarettes this time, I promise” he apologized, placing a heavy hand on your forehead appraisingly before shrugging with helplessness. “This seemed preferable to books for pillows” he chuckled, the tinge of worry in his voice evident.

“Well this is embarrassing” you finally smirked, focused on breathing deeply and bringing your knees up slightly underneath you.

“Mierda…” he encouraged, leaning against the wall and finally relaxing. “It is your time of the month, no?”. You froze with apprehension at the intimacy of his observation, but quickly relaxed against his thigh once again.

“Guilty as charged” your cheeks blushed with a crimson hue. This had to be the strangest work day in the history of employment. You found yourself surprisingly grateful that you weren’t alone.

“You’re not the first woman I’ve made faint” Pena tried to tease as you scoffed good-naturedly. You took a look around at the smattering of books littering the floor. “You managed to bring down half the display case with you however” he noted, straining to reach for the copy of “What Happened to Belen” before settling back against the wall. You both sat in silence for a minute or two, thankful that no customers were entering the bookshop, as Pena thumbed through the book introspectively. You were surprised at the tenderness in his voice as he started to read Belen’s words to her supporters, 

“Greetings to all the women, to the warriors, and to everyone who’s stood by me until now. I want to thank you for making my fight your own. Thank you for standing up for me, for making sure my voice and truth were heard. I was silent for two years. I couldn’t bring myself to talk. I was scared. They told me I would get life. They convicted me on hearsay alone, for being poor, for going to a public hospital, for not having the money to to a private clinic and hire a good lawyer. I haven’t been home or seen my family March 21st, 2014. They robbed me of so much. All I wanted was help and instead I was detained, surrounded by police officers and accusatory fingers. Two years and three months away form home. They took away my life! Did any of them wonder how I felt that night? They accused me and asked if I’d induced an abortion. My mother was mistreated, too. No one cared about me. She’s ignorant, she doesn’t know anything, they probably told themselves. Even though I said I hadn’t done anything, that I hadn’t killed anyone. I didn’t even know I was pregnant. I cry because of the injustice I’m experiencing. But I’m also calm, because I know I will get justice. I am stronger now, calmer. I never hurt anyone, never stole, never killed, I don’ know drugs. I’ve worked my whole life. I always did everything I was supposed to. I will forever be grateful to every who’s helped my voice be heard. I’m sending you all my love. It makes me so happy not be alone. Thank you and thank you again to all you women. Let us all fight and be heard so that no woman is imprisoned for abortion again. ow your struggle is my struggle, too”.

Pena’s soft baritone voice hummed quietly as you heard the dull traffic sounds outside. Dusk was starting to descend as you looked up into his face. You could have sworn you saw the smallest of tears glistening at the corner of his eye before he brushed it away, clearing his throat.

“Can you stand, hermosa?” he asked, sitting upright, your head still atop his lap.

“Let’s find out” you parried, his solid hand easing you forward and massaging the back of your neck deftly. A small moan escaped your lips as you tucked your legs beneath you.

“Long day” Pena observed, allowing his hand to drift to your back in slow, methodical circles. “Is this okay, hermosa?” 

“More than okay” you realized, scratching at scalp and smiling tiredly. This work day had proven unexpectedly enjoyable, amidst an obstacle course of challenge. You leaned back towards him with a slightly dopey expression. “Thanks for your help, Pena”.

“We aim to please” the corner of Pena’s mouth drifted upwards, as he carefully stood to his feet, offering his hand once again in support. You felt a bit like Bambi at first, getting your legs beneath you and holding on to Pena’s steely grasp. Closing your eyes for clarity, you breathed in his warm fragrance of nicotine, cologne and sweat as Pena watched you intently.

“Nearly done with our story” you whispered, locking eyes with him and finally noticing his hand at your waist, moving in soothing circles.

“I almost don’t want it to end” he replied, licking his lips attentively. You looked towards the clock once again. What had started as a day of doldrums had nearly evaporated before you. One more hour before your shift was over. “Sit back down while I clear things up” he offered, setting you back on the stool definitively and collecting the books at your feet.

“I guess I can be grateful today that we didn’t defund the police” you tried to joke, but caught Pena’s apologetic visage.

“This story is a travesty” he grumbled, collecting the books and handing you the literature of the hour. “I’m as imperfect as the next man, but I joined the DEA to make a difference. Belen’s story is…an embarrassment. I wish I knew how to help”. He set the last of the books on the counter and leaned against it with dejection.

“It’s not all bad” you sighed, uncharacteristically reaching up to cup his face in the palm of your hand, and running a thumb against his five o’clock shadow. Pena’s eyes took on a new sheen of redemption as he took your hand in his. “Tell me” he agreed as you referenced the book once again.

“Finally after nearly three years, Belen is released from prison. She can now begin the long process of championing her government to make the necessary changes, 

“The warden insists before her release, ‘You need to understand that you’re not a criminal. You have no reason to hide.” In the evening the cellblock breaks into song and applause. The sounds travel over the wall and infect the women who have been waiting outside since morning. The activists from the  organizations form two lines to shield Belen from the cameras. They wear masks of white and green, but their expressions are the same; rigid, stern faces and masks featuring the words, “We are Belen”. Belen steps onto the street watching balloons float high in the sky. “This must be a dream” she wonders, but after two years, four months and twenty three days in prison, Belen gets back some of her freedom”.

Pena smiled, placing his hands on his hips defiantly, “Todo va bien”. He was looking resolutely at the ground and nodding definitively. 

“Justice for all” you agreed, feeling tears spring to your eyes at the end of a long day. Stupid hormones. “Thanks to events like ‘Green Action Day’ and the printing of this book, Belen’s government begins the arduous process of lawmaking, and she remains timidly at the forefront.

“It is difficult to conceive of a sphere more ‘private’ than an individual’s own body. The right of individuals to prevent others from invading or interfering with that body is an essential component of a private life, where personal autonomy is paramount…as listed in the Constitution.” The prospects might seem tenuous, but Belen’s case was gaining more and more steam. The majority of women were in favor of legalizing abortion, while a majority of men were against it. Belen says, 

“It’s been three years since I was released, and I feel enormously happy and grateful to everyone who helped me through the most difficult time of my life. Today, I am firm in my decision. I’m not the weak woman I was bak then, broken by a patriarchy that, 6 years ago, sentence me to 8 years in prison for a crime I didn’t commit. Now I am a strong woman pumping her arms in the air and calling for an end to the unjust imprisonment of women for abortions. It’s been three years since I was released and I am here, yelling at the top of my lungs; we can do it girls, the patriarch will fall!”

“Freedom fighter indeed” Pena observed, slamming a soft fist against the counter definitively. “It can’t be easy though…reclaiming her life after….everything….”

The fatigue was starting to catch up with you as you searched the book for your notes. “You’re right, the road to redemption is rarely an easy one” you acquiesced.

“She’s been having panic attacks. Then second she walks out of the house, she start shaking and feeling faint. Her heart races. She has regular fits of crying and rage. “It was like my body was still in prison, like it couldn’t get used to me being free. They told me to try therapy, but I could’t make it to the offices, because I got dizzy every time i tried to leave the house. My family helped me with that. And when I got frustrated they would be there to tell me everything was going to be alright. ‘You got out of prison, there’s no way you can’t get out of the house. Sometimes I wake up at night screaming “No, don’t take me! I didn’t do anything wrong!” When the Supreme Court finally issued the decision to exonerate she looks in the mirror and utters the words she would like to say to the whole world. Didn’t I tell you I was innocent?

Belen hasn’t been to a hospital in three years. She still has nightmares of physicians and police officers storming into the operating room. She still feels scared because of how she was treated that night, long ago. Yet she isn’t a fearful person. “One day I’ll probably have to tell people who I am, but I’m taking it slow for now”.

You took a deep breath, smiling at Pena in repose. “Belen has done so much to change the landscape of this discussion, not just in Argentina, but internationally as well. To know that there are other women, facing great struggle, but using their voices to take a stand…” you felt the emotion of the moment swirling within you, but decided to press on… “I know I already live such a privileged life, but you wouldn’t believe…”. Your voice cracked as it bent under the weight of recent challenge and a lump crept into your throat tightly. Pena grabbed your elbow firmly in solidarity.

“Steady, hermosa” he cautioned, stroking higher up to your shoulder with encouragement.

“It’s okay, I mean you’ve already seen me at my worst…Or my most unconscious!” a sound escaped from your lips somewhere between a cry and laugh as your body trembled in place. “The author even talks about the liberation of the women’s rights movement as it relates to women in the workplace. We’re no longer required to hide our sobs in the company bathroom” a big, fat tear rolled down your cheek as Pena lightly brushed it away. 

“Fine by me” he whispered. “We all must bear the weight of our burdens, but this isn’t something you have to carry alone”. Your eyes widened with realization at his beautifully articulated point. He was right. In as much as it is our responsibility to articulate the challenge, it is our continued privilege to accept the support. You sniffled quietly as Pena gazed up at the clock knowingly.

“Looks like I’m your only customer for today” he observed softly, turning towards you and pulling you in for a tentative hug. You were about to protest before reconciling to the desire, wrapping your arms lightly around his waist, and trembling in his grasp.

“I wouldn’t have thought you so eloquent when we first met” you mumbled into his shirt, relaxing against his solid frame. Pena rested his head quietly atop yours, swaying a bit from side to side.

“I keep telling everyone that I read Playboy primarily for the articles…” he teased, pulling back to gaze at you pensively. “Time to close up shop” he brushed a few stray tears from your face once again before kissing you lightly on the forehead. The surprise that registered on your face seemed to delight him as he headed to the front door. Turning the sign to the the “CLOSED” position he caught a straggler that was approaching from the sidewalk. “I’m sorry we’re closed for the night!” he shouted through the window as they dejectedly shrugged their shoulders and walked away. He turned back to you gesturing apologetically as you giggled from the counter.

Pena helped you tidy up a bit before you headed back to the locker room to discard your apron and grab your things. Holding the book lovingly in your hands you met him in the foyer before exiting. “I don’t know how to ask this without sounding somewhat brazen…” Pena actually looked embarrassed, rubbing his hand at the back of his neck awkwardly. “But…could I see you home?” he finally confessed, his eyes a deep brown of sincerity. “Just…to make sure you’re okay…or…” he tripped haltingly over his words. It was a strange dichotomy to see such a confident man, momentarily unravelling.

“I’d like that” you smiled tiredly, taking his hand in yours and locking up the bookshop. His hand swung easily in your grasp as you headed to his car.

“So, what finally happened to Belen? Did she get the freedom she so richly deserved?” Pena asked, opening the car door for you and seating you inside. 

“See for yourself”. You opened the book to the final chapter, referencing your favorite part;

“I woke up to a message that the Chamber of Deputies had approved the bill, legalizing abortion. I think it’ll become law because women’s suffering is finally out in the open. I learned to fight, little by little and from the bottom. Even though things weren’t easy for me when I moved to Buenos Aires, I began rebuilding my life from scratch, she told the journalist who interviewed her. I never imaged I’d be unjustly imprisoned for there years, for doing nothing, But wounds heal.”

“Two days from now will be the first anniversary of the date I effectively regained my freedom. How will I ever forget the day I set foot on the street again, with my angels! How will I ever forget how much they helped me! How will I ever forget all the women who spent hours waiting to welcome me outside! How will I forget my fellow inmates and the prison guards and the night we said goodbye! How will I ever forget my family, who was anxiously waiting for me! How will I ever forget that day! Everyone awaited my return after two and half years of unjust imprisonment. How will I ever forget that was the day…I WAS REBORN! How will I ever forget the day one of my angels put a pencil to paper and wrote down the words I couldn’t speak! A year after my release I can only give thanks to God and my angels. Who is it that said we don’t have angels? I can testify today that they exist. How will I ever forget that amidst all the anxiety and distress my angels were there with me, holding my hand and listening. I am eternally grateful. Thank you! Thanks to every woman and every organization, to the women’s movements and to all the people who did their part to help me, who put on their “Freedom For Belen” T-shirts and went into the street to fight for my freedom.”

“Excelente” Pena observed, starting the car and turning towards you. “Alright, hermosa, show me the way home” he smiled, tucking a stray hair behind your ear tenderly.

As the author states at the beginning of the book, “There are many people hiding stories we aren’t always prepared to hear.” But after spending the afternoon with Agent Pena and remembering the value of your own unique narrative, you at least were sure this was a story you wouldn’t soon forget.

Pedro Fandom Bingo Finale

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

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

Pedge Bookshop Art

Oooh, this was fun! A huge thank you to @auteurdelabre for our beautiful Coloring Book! I hope you will check out Pedge's Bookshop, as this rendering is based on the integration of "Crime and Punishment" themes that closely resemble "The Last of Us".

“Pain and suffering are always inevitable for a large intelligence and a deep heart. The really great men must, I think, have great sadness on earth.”

“To go wrong in one's own way is better than to go right in someone else's.”

“The man who has a conscience suffers whilst acknowledging his sin. That is his punishment.”

“Man has it all in his hands, and it all slips through his fingers from sheer cowardice.”

“Break what must be broken, once for all, that's all, and take the suffering on oneself.”

Happy reading! This fan art took a little over a day. I've never used my i-pad for coloring and writing, so this was a fun adventure