My Darling Muse (vi),

Pedro-Tober #3

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

Series Masterlist

13.) Javi Gutierrez: Afterglow Fic (Phoenix Rising) @pedges-world

14.) Freebie! IG: @art_faraday

15.) The Materialists: @norththelemon

16.) Whiskey: @alyssamariag

17.) Arm Sling: IG: @amakuni_s

18.) Oberyn Martell: IG: @vanessadraws

19.) SDCC: IG @vanessadraws

Also, Pedge and I are "Trick or Treating"! DM me to play!

My Darling Muse, My Darling Dieter...

*featuring AI art and Jackson Pollock background

Dieter is in LOVE. He's just not sure if he's met them yet. But in the interim, he's keeping a journal to house all of his inspiration, poetry and recipes, before they fly out of his head. And once he meets the ONE...or ONES...this is going to be his gift to you. Along with those sexy time IOU's he's always handing out. Love this post @for-a-longlongtime, and inspired by the Trope-Off (Dieter Bravo/Pen Pals)

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

*references Ginsburg's "Howl" + Rimbaud's "A Season In Hell"

My Darling Muse,

“I am with you…where you will split the heavens and resurrect your living human Jesus from the superhuman tomb…” “My guts are on fire. The power of the poison twists my arms and legs…I die of thirst, I suffocate, I cannot cry” “Who told you that there is no true, faithful, eternal love in this world! May the liar's vile tongue be cut out!” “I am with you…when you bang on the catatonic piano the soul is innocent and immortal. It should never die ungodly in an armed madhouse…"

*written in margins; Ten daily sponge baths unhealthy? What is a trash panda and are they bi? MDMA in Kit-Kats? Addicted to baby goats?

*Andre Masson

My Darling Dieter,

Oh my honey I am so glad to hear about all the friends you are making in rehab. and how much you enjoy your sponge baths! I'm not sure if Kit-Kats have addictive properties or not, but I'm certain they are healthier than your other alternatives. And yes, I was being serious when I said you could buy a baby goat for New Year's, J.

"Glass of Absinthe" by Van Gogh

My Darling Dieter,

I see your therapist suggested other outlets for your yearnings, thought I'm not sure absinthe is produced in gummy form. What a creative idea! Van Gogh would have thoroughly approved. Perhaps I can think of some personal ways to satiate your other desires--within the context of my nebulous professional role. Love, J

*Halman

My Darling Dieter,

I am so proud of you for returning to rehab during the holiday season. I know things were becoming stressful. I DID inquire as to whether the poet Coleridge has an IG account, but since he lived in the late 1700's that seems unlikely. Yes, I do think Kubla Khan could be set to an inspiring tap dance, but only by you. Sincerely, J.

*Warhol-Basquiat

Hey folks! This is J, Dieter’s PA. D is a little embarrassed since he checked himself back into rehab for the holidays, but he wanted his fans to know that he is doing well and enjoying the beach resort. He is still working on his one man show “Dieter Deconstructed” and is determined to include a musical portion. His good friend and fellow actor Pedro Pascal recommended the book “The Urge; Our History of Addiction”. D was excited, but the material is VERY heady. After falling asleep to the soothing sounds of the audiobook, I have taken to reading D excerpts over the phone…so he can fall asleep to my voice instead. D says he is very relieved to have escaped the holidays and the many temptations, while he focuses on his own betterment and the nebulous relationship between artistic passion and the sometimes uncontrollable desires of addiction. Finally, he wants me to remind you all about his upcoming holiday special, “Cliff Beast 6 1/2; Hannukah Hijinks”, which will be appearing on all major platforms.

*thanks @kodaswrld for the cool dividers

PedgesJukebox

I think we're done with this trend, but Pedge and I still like it, and invite you to check out Pedge's Jukebox when you you get a chance!

I love combining reality with fantasy, and while I'm sure this isn't a new Tumblr concept, I'm going to be cataloguing our Pedro Boys as per Pedge's suggestions! All playlists will attempt to utilize music or groups that Pedro Pascal has referenced at some point. Get your headphones and enjoy! I also am secretly hoping writers might utilize this playlists for inspiration. I can't write with music in the background, but some people can. Every Spotify list comes with it's own triggers and literary short for our favorite characters interaction with the arts...

Series Masterlist

Crime and Punishment The Lecture

Grab a latte! Time for a sweet treat before you head into The Bookshop! Check out "Bookends" by @djarinmuse, it will absolutely hit the spot...

Triggers: profanity, Last of Us canon + references, discussion of murder/violence, alcohol consumption, MAJOR spoilers for "Crime and Punishment", spirituality/religion/existentialism

Series Masterlist

Words: 4k

It had been weeks since you had seen Joel, or risked an inopportune meeting in The Bookshop. After your enigmatic encounter over Winter Break, you had oscillated somewhere between embarrassment, irritation, desire and confusion as to whether your presence would be wanted. What had started as a literary deconstruction had quickly turned into a personal one, and you couldn’t be sure how welcome that journey would be. Granted, there was a lot of preparation to restart the school term after the holidays, but truthfully, it was just easier to ignore everything your conversation had unearthed. That is, until class resumed.

Avoiding Joel had been easy; there were always patrols and commune business to aide your self-imposed isolation. You had to admit The Bookshop would have been a valuable resource for your curriculum prep, but you had done without and could do so again. If you were being truly honest with yourself, it wasn’t the books you were really missing. But the renewal of the school term loomed large on the horizon, and here you stood at the doorstep. A cornucopia of ridiculous age gaps-tremendous potential—and Ellie.

Ellie was one of your brightest and most ambitious students to date, but after the mysterious dinner, culminating in unspoken desires and tenuous subtext, you were more concerned than ever. Not only did you want to help Ellie explore her intellect and agency, she wasn’t one to shy away from difficult conversations. You found yourself at a strange crossroads of desperately wanting to offer guidance, but shrinking inward at the possibility of transparency and vulnerability. Some teacher. And yet, here you all were, poised to begin the exciting class term, bright, smiling faces beaming up at you—-and Ellie.

She sat transfixed by the melting, winter’s landscape, watching a solitary red cardinal, flitting colorfully from tree branch to tree branch as you waxed philosophically about the semester’s objectives. Perhaps the door had already been closed, and your friendship was an opportunity that had died an early death. You attempted to plow forward, unfazed, but concerned nonetheless. It was a strange dichotomy to recognize your own inability to survive alone, but still be so paralyzed by the fear of letting anyone in. At least, as a teacher, maybe you could instruct the next generation how to avoid that alienation, short of exampling it yourself. 

The day passed relatively quickly, as, much like the cardinal, you flitted from desk to desk, attempting to help each student with their diverse and varied projects revolving around history, agriculture, science, medicine, home arts and more. You had quite nearly forgotten the conundrum as students bolted out the door in the late afternoon light, hunched over your desk, perusing assignments and projects, until a familiar voice juxtaposed itself.

“Hey teach, got a second?” Ellie’s direct lilt tickled your ears curiously, as your eyes shot up to meet hers.

“Oh! Ellie, I’m so glad you stayed behind” you fibbed ever so slightly, simultaneously intrigued, and terrified at the line of potential conversation. Ellie seemed to breathe a small sigh of relief, gazing behind her conspiratorially, assured she was out of earshot.

“Did uh…did something happen between my…between you and Joel…at dinner, or something?” Ellie whispered in hushed tones, a tinge of concern passing over her countenance at the possible overstep.

“No! I mean…maybe. I…” you sighed heavily, swallowing hard. What DID happen? It was so bizarre to experience a moment of deep meaning, without any true understanding of what the significance was. “Why, what did he say?” you shifted gears, suddenly anxious as to her approaching answer.

“Nothing!” Ellie immediately confessed. “I mean, you know Joel. Just grumbling and silence mostly. He keeps asking about you, and how you’re doing, and moping around the house…even more than usual” Ellie smiled dolefully, picking at the edge of your school desk. “He’s been telling me more about the book…” she quipped, slinging her pack over her shoulder heftily, “…and mentioning that I should ask you about it…”.

“Oh, is that so?” you brightened slightly at the admonition that Joel seemed as unnerved as you, but as yet undeterred. Maybe you hadn’t ruined the entire prospect.

“He says you have a special understandin’…about a woman’s ways. Or…good at holdin’ secrets…I didn’t really ask what he meant…” she trailed off, shrugging her shoulders good-naturedly, noticing the reddish tint at the top of your ears.

“Yeah, there are some secrets that should probably stay hidden” Joel’s words echoed in your mind acerbically, as you wondered if the sentiment were true.

“I guess…” Ellie picked at her nails awkwardly, looking around the room for hidden solace.

“Is that what you wanted to ask me about?” you ventured, truly desirous to help Ellie with whatever challenge she might be encountering. 

“Oh! I just remembered who Mr. Marmelade reminded me of!” she chirped, as her demeanor immediately darkened at the confession. Perhaps Ellie was finding herself as conflicted as you were regarding transparency and community.

“I’d love to hear about it, if you want to tell me” you tentatively opened the door of conversation relishing the avenue of opportunity. Maybe you wouldn’t be the one to teach Ellie the art of authenticity, perhaps it was the other way around. A moment of silence stretched before you as Ellie seemed slightly at war with herself, weighing her options. She finally pulled one of the wooden stools forward, hunching over your school desk secretively.

“Alright…when Joel and I were traveling here, we met lots of people on the road to Jackson” she began, a weight noticeably lifting from her shoulders. “I’d never really been much out of the Boston QZ, and everything was…one big adventure!” her eyes lit up momentarily with the remembrance. You smiled in solidarity, reflecting on some of your own adventures and discoveries. There was a lot of life to be lived, even in this apocalyptic atmosphere. You nodded encouragingly. “But…not all of it was good…” she paused, her face shifting with discomfort. “Plenty of challenges, and some friends…but most of them didn’t make it out alive. Not like us.” Ellie stated bluntly, her chest collapsing slightly with the heaviness of the reality. You turned your eyes downward, listening carefully and nodding your head. Most of these kids had seen more tragedy than any young life deserved, and you wished you could ease their suffering, ANY suffering around you.

“There was this one town…” she began, her gaze blurring slightly with the memory “…and we were in the Kansas City QZ. There was a heap of trouble there, and people shooting. And an army, like a bona fide ARMY of infected. But we met these two guys…” Ellie stopped, her voice cracking slightly with emotion. “Uh, we met these two guys Henry, and his younger brother Sam…and they were real great” she finished, her eyes glossing over with an emotive sheen. You pursed you lips thoughtfully, curious as to Ellie’s question, and hesitant to hear the story’s conclusion. Holding the silence tenderly, you cautiously waited, joining Ellie in the palpable feeling of loss.

“And…I couldn’t…” her eyes filled with tears, defiantly willing her emotion to stay hidden “I couldn’t help them” she finally admitted, wiping her tears away quickly as the they cascaded down her cheeks unbidden. “I couldn’t save them” she whimpered slightly before stilling completely in silence. You smiled tenderly in the stillness, nodding again in affirmation. You wondered in that moment if you didn’t have the same feeling of helplessness right now. Each human’s life was so uniquely distinctive. But how can any of us truly help one another, if not by simply living and dying in existence, together? You paused, weighing your words carefully as you proceeded forward.

“That’s a lot like the Marmeladov Family, don’t you think?” you ventured quietly, watching Ellie’s eyes round out plaintively in the silence. She dragged her hand sniffily under her nose, closely returning your gaze. “Rascal wants to help them, but things go from bad to worse until…”.

“They don’t make it, do they?” she rasped, her eyes a darkened hue of anguish.

You tilted your head to the side empathetically. “Some of them do, and some of them don’t. We just can’t save everyone, all the time…”. Ellie breathed heavily, the weight of truth settling around her like a comfort-less blanket. “But that’s part of what it means to be truly human. Acknowledging one another, and our own inability. Feeling helpless, and yet still trying.”

“Do you ever feel that way? Helpless?” Ellie’s voice had nearly disappeared, the boisterous laughter of children echoing from the nearby stoop in contrast.

“Oh my God, when do I not?” you nearly laughed with incredulity. “All of us feel the weight of inability, every single day. You. Me. Joel…”.

Ellie pulled back skeptically, “Joel isn’t helpless! He might be annoying, but he does all kinds of stuff. Taught me to shoot. Knows how to hunt. You think Joel is helpless?”.

“I think…Joel is human, honey” you smiled, his face immediately reflected in your mind’s eye, full of sensitivity, wonder and depth. “I think we’re all HUMAN. Dostoyevsky hit the nail on the head, whether you’re living in the 1800’s or at the tail end of the world…” you surmised, not censoring yourself as one might, in the honesty of the sentiment. “And the unique privilege for us to be alone, together. To try against all odds, to ease one another’s suffering, whether we achieve it or not, is the Divine gifting of every individual. Every human heart”.

Ellie smiled ruefully, sitting a bit taller, and slinging her bag over her shoulder more definitively. “Okay, teach. Thanks for the talk” and with that, she was quickly exiting the room, purposefully headed to…wherever she was headed next. “Oh! And will you visit Joel sometime soon?” her voice surprisingly caught you from the doorway. “If Rascal the Cat is his only companion, I’m gonna have to sit through more of his mumbles and grumbles about you for the rest of my life, and it’s drivin’ me NUTS. Put him out of his misery already?” she smirked, hefting her book bag one last time and leaving you with your own muddled but increasingly optimistic outlook.

Standing outside of The Bookshop, you weren’t rightly sure how you had arrived at Joel’s doorstep once again. Almost hoping he were unavailable you noticed Rascal the Cat currently eyeing you smugly, seated indoors on the cozy quilt. Surveying The Bookshop from the foyer window you saw the familiar crackling fire, pot of coffee and burgeoning selection of books you and Joel had begun to categorize by Dewey Decimal system. The hand-made mahogany chair sat otherwise in solitude, before you hesitantly entered The Bookshop to the characteristic bell.

Your eyes widened at the growing selection of literature Joel had procured. This was turning out to be your own personal Library of Alexandria, assuming that Joel didn’t completely bar you from entry. Ironically enough, his deep throated voice boomed from the back room, “We’re closed!” his broad frame entering the main room confidently before he halted in his steps.

“It’s you” he whispered, his entire countenance momentarily dissolving in a softened visage before stoically snapping back to attention. “You’re okay, teach” he grumbled, shewing the cat out of your chair and headed towards the wood burning stove. “Coffee?” he rhetorically asked, before grabbing your favorite mug and pouring you a cup. You buttoned your lips tightly, anxiety creeping into every fiber of your being. Don’t fuck this up, don’t fuck this up…You sat quietly in the mahogany chair, gathering the quilt around you protectively. Maybe if you just didn’t speak, you could rely upon yourself to be the person the Miller Family deserved.

“Awful quiet over there, teach. We didn’t scare you away, did we?” Joel’s voice melodically intoned, but it was betrayed by an undercurrent of real concern. He handed you the mug of joe as you noticed a slight tremor in his fingertips, before he placed them confidently astride his hips. “Ellie said you had a real nice talk” he shifted awkwardly from side to side, a vision of forced neutrality.

“We did. I was so glad she decided to confide in me. Thanks for the support…” you encouraged, taking a timid sip of the potent beverage. Joel’s face lit up in recognition temporarily, hopeful at your re-established rapport. “S’no trouble. It was a hard journey here and…well, I’m not much for talkin’. At least not always sayin’ what I mean…” he trailed off, rubbing humbly at the back of his neck. “Sorry I ruined…the dinner” he added, almost as an after-thought. 

Your mouth parted slightly in shock. “You didn’t ruin anything. I was just surprised” you confessed. “Maybe too much bramble berry wine. I’ll know better for next time!”

“Next time?” Joel immediately pounced on the inflection, his eyebrows shooting up in delighted anticipation. You stalled, momentarily unsure of yourself.

“Well, we’re only halfway through the book! You didn’t think you were gonna get off that easily, did you?” you teased, hungrily taking in Joel’s playful expression. He breathed a sigh of relief as Rascal the Cat intertwined itself amidst his ankles.

“Sure thing” he sighed. “Still not the best student though, teach…I’ve been a little…distracted” he gazed down at the orange tabby nuzzled against his calf. 

“Worried about Ellie?” you ventured, Joel’s acknowledgement immediately catching yours, as he nodded curtly. “Well, like you said, she’s a good kid. This is what growing up is all about. Questions, doubts. Discovering what it means to be human. Spirituality…”.

Joel shook his head emphatically, “We’re not religious, teach. If you knew the people we met on the road here…”. 

You cut him off gently, “I’m not talking about religion, I’m talking about the human spirit. That’s what Dostoyevsky is talking about; the way we live, the way we die, and all that’s in between. Ellie’s just coming to terms with what it means to just…be”. Joel looked at you pointedly, his gaze once again taking you apart, piece by piece. You felt oddly naked, sitting before him, completely swathed in the comfortable quilt.

“I just want her to be happy” Joel finally whispered, wistfully searching through the window’s haze.

“Me too” you smiled, joining the intentionality of his search. “We just have to remember that there’s a lot more to life than just…happiness”. You shared a long stare with Joel in the quiet of The Bookshop, punctuated by purrs from Rascal the Cat, as unexpected snow began to drift in the outside flurry.

“Who said, that, Dostoyevsky?” Joel smirked, stepping slowly forward and drawing the quilt up around you sweetly.

“Me” you grinned dolefully, pouting with chagrin.

“Birds of a feather” he smiled, drawing your chin between two calloused fingers, with a small but tender pinch.

The winter days continued to pass quickly, though the snowfall didn’t seem to ease up. You continued to meet Joel at The Bookshop, organizing the sections of languages and science. The technology section seemed particularly bare, and currently obsolete, but perhaps someday mankind would be able to have a resurgence of technological growth, and you wanted to ready the next generation as much as you could. Sometimes you stopped by The Bookshop to find it cold and empty, with news of an ongoing patrol reaching your ears, and stoking anxiety in the cavernous depths of your heart. Was Joel okay? Should you check on Ellie? How long would he be gone? But those moments seemed to be few and far between, and you shoved them out of your mindset as much as was possible. Unwilling to upset the tenuous balance of your ongoing friendship, you gave both of them as much distance as the three of you seemed to thrive on. It wasn’t until several weeks later that Ellie approached you again, as the classroom dissipated.

“Got a minute, teach?” she hesitantly asked, drawing your attention to her fidgeting fingers and anxious demeanor.

“Of course, Ellie, you know I’ve always got time for you. How are you and Joel doing?”

“Don’t know. Joel is still out on patrol. Has been, all week…” she mumbled, as you bit your lower lip. You knew about Monday’s patrol, you just hadn’t realized its duration. “Got the whole Miller Mansion to myself…” she almost whimpered, adopting an immediately confident and armored appearance.

“Oh, honey, you can always come to my place if you want. Or I can come to you? Joel wouldn’t want you to be all alone…” you concernedly offered.

“It’s okay. I’m not scared” Ellie unconvincingly added, fidgeting with her pack once again. “Just…real quiet…at night. Rascal the Cat doesn’t say much” she joked. “In that way…just like Joel”.

“Well, I’m glad you’ve got someone” you commiserated, starting to pack up your papers for the evening’s work, secretly worried about the ongoing patrol, but unwilling to telegraph it, for Ellie’s sake. “Did you need help with your homework?”

“No, I just…started reading more of “Crime and Punishment”…Joel left his copy, and I was real bored…and I’m reading more about that Squid-Guy…” she sheepishly recounted, shrugging her shoulders awkwardly.

“Svidrigaylov” you joked with your best Russian accent.

“Yeah, Snake Eyes, Joel calls him. Seems like a real sonnafabitch…” she joked, immediately catching your eye as you both mouthed… “LANGUAGE”. Chuckling with one another easily, Ellie paused considering her next words carefully. “Joel said…you were real good at keepin’ secrets?”

You looked at Ellie cautiously, Joel’s enigmatic words reflected back at you, and wincing slightly at their double meaning. “Your secrets are safe with me” you finally promised, sitting back and awaiting Ellie’s response. Ellie took a deep breath before beginning.

“You know I told you about Henry and Sam, who we met on the road?” she started, her fingers idling spooling a loose thread from her well-worn winter’s sweater. You nodded somberly, the periphery of your mind drifting to Joel’s whereabouts. Ellie needed him. Was he okay? Where was the patrol? What if things somehow took a turn for the worst? 

“Go on” you encouraged, shaking your head of the clouding, fearful cobwebs.

“Well, we met other…people. Some of them not so nice. There was a man…who pretended to be…He called himself a preacher, and he was anything but. Unless he was preaching a gospel of…shit” Ellie pursed her lips, caught between her own indecision and need. “He was a real bastard…and his flock! He lied to them…manipulated them. Used them” Ellie stopped, struggling with the memory of it. Your eyes narrowed in comprehension. No way in hell would Joel let anything happen to Ellie on his watch. What had happened? Is this the secret everyone was so reticent to share? You would never doubt Joel’s intentionality, and whatever he had done, you KNEW it was for a good reason.

“What happened, Ellie? Did Joel hurt him? Did Joel…kill him?” you tried to make the statement neutrally, as though speaking to a wounded animal, as Ellie’s eyes widened to the shape of saucers.

“It was me” she croaked, almost inaudibly. “I did it. I killed him”. Her face took on a strange detachment, eyes clouding over with disassociation. “Everything was on fire. He was gonna……so I did it. I killed him…before he killed me”. Your eyes quickly flitted to the open doorway, ensuring that no one was standing within earshot. 

“Who knows about this?” you whispered, drawing your arms across the desk and taking Ellie’s hands carefully in yours.

“Just Joel” she cried quietly. “He found me after”.

You nodded your head solemnly, still anxious as to where Joel was. No wonder he was so protective of her, and who could blame him? No child should have to endure what Ellie had experienced.

“Joel said it was self defense but…” the pallor of her face immediately paled “but what if it wasn’t?” Ellie’s voice sounded nearly strangled in her throat as a wave of tears threatened to pour forth.

“Honey, if Joel said it was self defense, then that’s what it was. You know you can trust him” you assuredly stated, rubbing Ellie’s hands together and rising from your desk. “Humans will do whatever they must, in order to survive, and it sounds like you did just that” you humbly offered. “Come on, let’s get you home, I’m not letting you spend another night with the memory of that Squid-Guy” you tried to jest, Ellie tiredly grinning. “Maybe we’ll take a little break from ‘Crime and Punishment’ for a while?” you questioned, hugging her around the waist and nodding together. What the hell kind of apocalypse were you living in, that children had to ask these kinds of existential questions instead of basic math? In that moment, you vowed to protect Ellie in the same ways that Joel had. He would come back. He had to. But if someday he didn’t, Ellie would NOT be alone.

Trudging through the never-ending snow you arrived at the Miller Household later than evening, a fresh stack of books procured from The Bookshop, and a fresh pot of stew enjoyed with the fire. Ellie had quickly retired to her bedroom, the result of a string of nightmarish evenings while awaiting Joel’s return. Rascal the Cat sat curled at your feet, as you perused the reading material recently found. It was a strange cornucopia of items; “Jane Eyre” (though it seemed to be missing several pages), a collection of poetry by various authors, “In Cold Blood” by Truman Capote. You had just begun to rifle through the many options when your heart lurched at the lumbering figure leading up to the doorstep. The orange tabby mewled affectionately, as you heard the heavy stomp of boots hit the landing before some mumbled profanities and the sound of keys dropping to the stoop. You sat up curiously, anxious for Joel’s possible arrival as the door flung open in a wintry bluster, Joel tripping slightly over the lip of the frame before he shut the door. You immediately smelled the sweet fragrance of whiskey as Joel stumbled backwards into his own home, shaking the snow off the shoulders of his winter jacket, his head lolling sideways to catch your surprised gaze from the living couch.

“Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?” Joel slurred, his eyes half mast as he removed his winter jacket halfway, catching his arms at the elbows. “You here to save me, teach?” he hiccuped, stumbling forward slightly and bracing himself heavily at the back of the couch.

Holy hell.

Pedge's Cinema; All About Eve

Thank you to @auteurdelabre for our beautiful coloring book! I have been doubly inspired, writing the sequel for Pedge's Cinema; All About Eve. It was fun to take this coloring page and overlay it on some of Pedro's favorite movie posters. There are several more installments on the horizon, I hope you will enjoy!

Series Masterlist

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.

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!

Overprotective Mom

Ha! This was not on my WIP list until I saw @morallyinept's character studies and realized how fun it would be to Mood Board some of the smaller characters Pedge has played over the years, whether they get a fic or not. Lol...Who knows, I'm steadily falling in love with ALL of them...She's really doing something for me right now...

My Darling Muse (iv),

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

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

My Darling Muse,

(Bluets Excerpts by Maggie Nelson) “Suppose I were to begin by saying that I had fallen in love with a color.” “I am writing all this down in blue ink, so as to remember that all words, not just some, are written in water.” “Fucking leaves everything as it is. Fucking may in no way interfere with the actual use of language.” “To take a breath of water: does the thought panic or excite you?” “sometimes I do feel its presence to be a sort of wink-- Here you are again, it says, and so am I.” “I want you to know, if you ever read this, there was a time when I would rather have had you by my side than any one of these words; I would rather have had you by my side than all the blue in the world.” “And we have not yet heard enough, if anything, about the female gaze. About the scorch of it, with the eyes staying in the head.” “And what kind of madness is it anyway, to be in love with something constitutionally incapable of loving you back?” *written in margins: Blue Balling? Was I a fish in a previous life? Is Blue...bi? How do you say "fuck" in Latin? Only blue stuff. I love baby goats, but not like that...Practice female gaze...

Hey folks! This is J, Dieter's PA. I don't have much time to talk. Dieter has sworn off writing, after his good pal Pedro Pascal recommended "Bluets" by Maggie Nelson. Now Dieter claims he isn't worthy to worship at the feet of Blue, and is re-painting all 5 bedrooms in his house. Yes, Dieter I'm going to the store right now for all Blue foods...No, I don't think Blue Koolaid is produced naturally...Yes, I promise to listen to Joni Mitchell's album "Blue" and think primarily Blue thoughts for the month of October. I'm not sure if you can dye a goat's hair blue, but we can look into it...I gotta go folks, this is getting out of hand...

Blue Album by Joni Mitchell

*Van Gogh

*Picasso's Blue Period

*thanks @thecutestgrotto for the cool dividers!