Pedge Tweets Afterglow

Hey beauties! Welcome to Pedge's World, our little corner of the digital universe where healing, freedom and chocolate chip cookies reign supreme! Pedge helps me sort through all of my sad, sexy, angry, euphoric, hungry, cranky, spiritual, creative moods! I hope you will join us! 18+, no minors!

Sexy Series Masterlist (RPF)

Let's Stick Together!

Art Projects Dieter's Art Studio; My Darling Muse

Afterglow Series Dead Dove December; The Deepest Cut

Pedge's Campsite

Fun With Mood Boards!

Pedro Boys

Pedro Posts, Polls and Prompts

Pedge's Juke Box

Pedge Tweets!

Pedge's Bookshop

Pedge's Cinema

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

Afterglow A Different Happy Ending

Hey y'all, this is a part of the "Afterglow Series" that delves into more intimacy than usual. I wanted a safe space to explore our sexy time activities that are unexpected or confusing.

Triggers: mentions of experimental M to F pegging (F receiving) and aftercare, lite profanity, mostly a lot of talk and crying (always crying)...our heroine is intent on expressing her needs and Marcus Pike seemed the most accommodating Pedro Boy to listen...

Series Masterlist

Your eyes shot open in bleary confusion. Something was up. Perhaps a bad choice of words as the evening’s events cascaded into your memory from a blurry, dark reaching corner of your body, as you started to take stock of your immediate situation.

You gently rolled over, hissing with discomfort and swallowing dryly. Marcus lay on his side, placid expression, breathing deeply as you smiled at his peaceful countenance. You rubbed your legs together as a pang of arousal and pressure shot through you like a lightning bolt. A pathetic whimper escaped your lips as Marcus blinked rapidly, joining you in the land of the living. His eyebrows immediately furrowed together as he rasply asked, “What’s wrong, baby?”

“Nothing’s wrong!” you answered a bit too quickly, shifting away from his transparent expression and attempting to hide your chagrin. It was your birthday, and you had been begging, pleading even for a sexy time adventure slightly different than the straightforward and delectable classic vanilla that Marcus excelled at. Marcus didn’t leave you wanting in any way, but the gals in your Pilates class just couldn’t stop talking about some of their sex-capades, and you wanted to experiment too. I mean, with enough lube, ANYTHING was possible you had reasoned, and brought your birthday request to the man himself.

You weren’t surprised to discover his hesitancy, primarily because of his concern that he would hurt you, but you were determined to bend your body and every orifice as much as your heart would allow. Seems that while your heart was malleable as fuck, your other rose had puckered to tightened heights. The euphoria of the previous evening washed over you, even as you gripped your thighs together, wriggling uncomfortably. Damn. All that talk, and it seems you had enjoyed yourself a bit TOO much. You looked down at your midriff to see bruised fingerprints splayed across your hips and etched into your thighs from his vice of a grip. You smiled at your bodily trophy, but already aware of the deleterious effect it would have on your bedmate. This would not go well if you couldn’t play it off as the momentary speed bump it was. 

“Did you enjoy your birthday present” a seductive hand wrapped around your stomach as Marcus began kissing at the back of your neck, adding more pressure to your…pressure. You cleared your throat with embarrassment, trying to steady your breath.

“Oh yes, it was everything I dreamed and more!” you tried to sound breezy and flippant but you were starting to become concerned. Did this mean he wouldn’t experiment further? You were such an idiot, thinking you could keep up with the twenty somethings at the gym. Marcus paused for a moment, trying to get a read on your tone of voice. Damned if that man wasn’t a mind reader of some kind. Always concerned with YOUR pleasure, YOUR orgasm, YOUR needs. But in this moment you were silently praying Marcus would lose his telepathic abilities.

Resuming a trail of kisses down your back and getting dangerously close to your discomfort of the moment he continued on unawares, “Does the birthday girl get a morning surprise?”. You felt his hardened length bump against your ass as you twitched slightly, willing your body to quiet down.

You gulped loudly, feeling the blush creep up your neck unceremoniously. This swirling vortex of emotion was starting to get out of hand. You couldn’t even pick apart everything happening; embarrassment, arousal, annoyance, concern, fatigue. But maybe there was still hope! That gnawing thought in the back of your mind threaded its way into your consciousness as you definitely wanted to experiment more. New sensations, new abandonment…and total submission. Out of the mind, out of the ass, out of the heart. Cum on. Butttttt….Marcus immediately stopped with your silence, a growing awareness clouding his morning ministrations until you heard his voice drop about an octave.

“Oh my God”.

You rolled your eyes anticipating the emotional wreckage, “Baby, it’s not that big a deal…”. You awkwardly shifted back to meet the roundest, warmest saucer shaped eyes that have ever existed. He looked like he had stopped breathing, and tears were already threatening to spill from those chocolate-colored orbs swimming before you.

“Oh my God” he caught sight of the light purple bruises peppered across your hips, covering his face with both hands. “Baby, gawd! You told me to keep going!” he whined, sitting up quickly and laying a feather light hand across your stomach. “What can I do? Advil? Water? Do we need to go to Urgent Care?”

Your mouth dropped open in comical surprise, taking his face in your hands. “Urgent Care? Honey, they’re bruises! This isn’t that scene from “Twilight”, you haven’t broken anything…”. His face didn’t register any shift at all, and you wondered if your words had even penetrated….nope…another bad choice of words as you winced slightly at the new seated position.

“Oh my God. I’m calling my sister…” Marcus reached over, hands trembling to grab his phone, as you deftly removed it from his hands and dangled it above his head.

“No thank you Romeo, I do not want the entire Pike Family up in my business as much as you were last night…” you heaved a heavy sigh of remembrance, trying to ass-certain how you might convince him for future sexy time experimentation.

“How can you make jokes at a time like this?” he pleaded, drawing his hands around your shoulders as though you were a porcelain doll. “I’m gonna draw you a bath. Can you walk?”

You started to chuckle with incredulity until you wondered if his question wasn’t altogether ridiculous. You bit your lower lip before it started wobbling out of control. You and Marcus had been together for a while, but you still wanted him to find you attractive and exciting. This was hardly a page out of “Sex and the City” if you couldn’t even walk to the bathroom after a birthday celebration YOU had demanded.

“Um. I think so” your voice seemed to disappear as you noticed more plumping bruises across your ass and breasts. This was all your fault. “Gosh, I was just having so much fun, maybe I got a little carried away” you said, almost to yourself.

“Well, I’m glad THAT part of the celebration went as planned” he sighed with a bit of relief, cupping your face with his hand. “You are taking it easy today, young lady. No work. Only movies. Ice packs. Advil…” he rubbed his lower back, getting out of bed and stretching for a moment. “I’m gonna look online for over the counter remedies, and draw you that bath…” he kissed the corner of your mouth with a nearly infinitesimal amount of pressure. “AND WE’RE NEVER DOING THAT AGAIN” he smiled with solidarity and headed into the bathroom.

Everything he had said sounded good to you…except that last part. Your heart shattered into a million pieces as you sucked in a desperate breath. My body, my rules, you thought. It obviously takes two to tango…or however you would describe what you tried last night…and you would never want Marcus to be uncomfortable. But you wanted to make sure he understood your desires. Despite the bruised fingerprints to the contrary, you had offered more than an enthusiastic YES, and it had only peaked your curiosity, not dulled it. But maybe your request was…unreasonable? Marcus wouldn’t hurt you to save his own life. The tears threatened to reappear as you thought of all the ways Marcus took care of you; pancakes, flowers, post-it-notes, hand made lunches. And here you were, the Scarlet Woman, debauched and depraved, hoping your boyfriend would rail you into the mattress until you broke. A lump started to form in your throat as you blinked away the tears. Pull it together, pull it together, pull it together. A small pain throbbed in your nether regions as your breath began to hitch in your chest and tighten. Come on woman, it’s your birthday, you rationalized, but that thought only pushed you closer to the emotional precipice you were already balanced precariously upon. And then you couldn’t help but wonder; what if Marcus never touches you that way again? What if he never touches you at all?

Your face wrenched up in a contortion of immediate distress. This was a bruise completely unseen but burying itself into your imagination. You started to squeak like a small chew toy, perseverating on this most ridiculous thought and hugging yourself around your ribcage. A small sob escaped your lips as you heard the bathtub roar to life and Marcus’ voice drift in echoing, “Okay, do you want lavender or eucalyptus epsom salt?”

You bit down hard on your lower lip, irrationally determined to stop the overflow of emotions, but tasting salty tear after salty tear that annoyingly dripped down your cheeks. 

“I think I found a bath bomb!” he melodiously intoned, but stopped abruptly upon seeing your small nervous breakdown. He rushed forward, kneeling at the bedside and grabbing his phone again, “I’m calling my sister”.

“Stawwwwwp!” you whined, throwing the phone across the bed and starting to hyperventilate. Unfortunately every hiccup radiated through your lower body with unnerving sensitivity as you gulped and winced and laughed at your own predicament.

“Baby, please, how can I help?” Marcus went into full puppy dog mode, lightly rubbing your leg and lower back. “I’m so sorry”.

“No, I’M s-s-orry!” you wailed, growing more distressed as the moments passed. Marcus shook his head, continuing to rub your back. “I was h-h-having so much, f-f-f-fun…and it was such a g-g-good b-b-b-irthday…” Marcus reached up to wipe a trail of snot from your nose as you unraveled. “And n-n-n-ow you’re never gonna t-t-t-ouch me again!!!” you cried, throwing up your hands in despair. There. The Scarlet Woman, debased and unhinged, mockery of society and bedroom sexcapades, humiliated for all to see.

“Take a deep breath for me please, birthday girl. And let’s take that from the top, with feeling” he mused, wiping another tear away and tucking an escaped hair behind your ear tenderly. You took a big breath, holding it in your mouth theatrically as he counted to five, and puffing it in his face surprisingly as you burst into cautious laughter. Wincing slightly at the lamaze-like activity your hiccups started to quiet down as he rubbed large circles across your back, smiling broadly.

“I’m gonna go out on a limb and say that…for some inexplicable reason…you…enjoyed our celebrations last night, and want to make sure I’m not over-reacting?” he tentatively pondered, as your nodded emphatically in the affirmative, hiccuping and wincing some more. “Alright, and maybe in a couple days, AFTER you take your Advil, and AFTER we watch “Casablanca” and AFTER I make us some pancakes you wouldn’t be opposed to…an encore of some kind?” he ventured, nodding in agreement with your bobbing head as your sniffles quieted down. He pursed his lips thoughtfully, considering your request and dragging a finger slowly down the front of your body and pausing at the top of your clit tentatively. “I have a complimentary request as negotiations proceed” he whispered watching your pupils dilate with lust and watching his finger hover over your heat expectantly. Not hearing a response he continued, “I’m going to need a lot more prep time, giving you the attention you deserve if you expect me to split you in half on every birthday”.

You swallowed loudly, surprised at his uncharacteristically lewd comment, but hopeful that he meant every word of it. You nodded slowly as he tapped your clit VERY lightly eliciting a small jump from you and a giggle of affirmation. “Yes please” you managed to get out as he stood up from the floor, ghosting his lips over yours tantalizingly.

“Ummm…can you carry me to the bathroom please?” your nose wrinkled up with embarrassment, not entirely sure if your legs would carry you themselves.

“Your bath awaits, m’lady” he drolled, hooking an arm softly under your backside and pulling you into an embrace...

*thanks @samspenandsword for the cool dividers!

Pedge's Bookshop The Wound

Grab a Latte! lounge around in the foyer with this literary collection from @obscurexsorrows "Recommendation" before heading into the Bookshop...

Triggers: profanity, Last of Us canon + references, MAJOR spoilers for "Crime and Punishment", hospital environment, death, wounds, blood, spiritual concepts

Series Masterlist

Words: 3k

Your heart throbbed painfully in your chest, gripping your windpipe with a searing knife-like burn and you felt the icy pinpricks of the wintry air stab at your cheeks as Ellie raced behind you. Did you even dismiss the class? You suddenly realized you weren’t wearing your winter coat, having run out of the classroom blindly, and were still several hundred feet away from the infirmary.

Joel was hurt.

And truthfully, there wasn’t another substantial thought in your mind as your boots gripped the recent snowfall tenuously. What had Ellie said just a few moments ago? Only ten men had returned, and Levi wasn’t one of them. You didn’t have an iota of care for that man, but it only added a cloud of concern and fear to the already tense situation. What had happened?

Would Joel be okay?

You barreled through the infirmary doors, immediately feeling the shift in temperature and tone as pure chaos descended. There were men sitting on the floor, covered in blood and dirt. The limited pool of the commune’s medical resources were already strewn haphazardly around the small building as your eyes took in the scene before you. Every eye seemed to emanate guilt and anxiety, as you searched frantically.

Joel. Joel. Joel.

Stopping abruptly you were greeted by the doleful countenance of Tommy who was locked in heated conversation with Maria. You and Ellie rushed towards him, ignoring the subdued voices contrasted by medical yells of urgency. “Where’s Joel?” you bluntly questioned, interrupting Maria mid-sentence, immediately noticing the blanket of blood covering Tommy’s jacket. “Is that his blood? What happened? Did Levi do this?” the questions poured out of you like a tumult as tears streaked down your face. You were crying. When had you started crying? You didn’t care.

You had to get to Joel.

“He’s dead”.

The world stopped for a moment, tilting on its axis, as you stopped breathing.

“Levi is dead” Maria quickly clarified for Tommy as a small cry escaped your lips, unbidden. Your knees buckled slightly as the group steadied you with supportive hands.

“Where’s Joel? Tell me what happened to Joel…” you croaked, pleading with Tommy helplessly.

“It was a mess. An absolutely ambush” Tommy’s eyes glazed over tiredly. “Levi’s men scattered everywhere when we found the infected. Or THEY found us…” Tommy shivered slightly as Maria gripped his arm tenderly. “It’s my fault…” Tommy’s voice cracked in defeat as Maria shook her head defiantly. “I had the sightline, and I stood up, and Joel…” he swallowed harshly as you looked to Ellie who was uncharacteristically silent. “Joel got shot”.

Your breath came out in haggard rasps, looking desperately around the building. “Where…is…he?” you hyperventilated, prying yourself out of their grasp and meandering shakily. Ellie gripped your arm, heading towards the only examination room that existed as voices blurred around you. All of your senses were somehow merging into a myriad of confusing sensations and images. The people around you took on a bizarre, inhuman quality; their features distorted into a hall of mirrors. Sounds were amplified as though blaring through a sieve, and your skin was a heightened maelstrom of sensitivity and dulled awareness. Moving with the unadulterated force of a bullet you plowed through the separating sheaths of fabric until you found him.

He looked so small.

Your spirit was immediately arrested as all your senses came rushing back with the precision of a scalpel. Smell of iron. Cotton clean. Rusted blood red patches of cloth thrown on the ground. Joel was curled into the fetal position on a low cot, gripping his stomach protectively as Tommy and Maria followed unsteadily behind you. A slew of medical attendants were coming and going, and you immediately noticed a solitary bag of medicine precariously connected via IV. Resources were extremely limited, so the situation must be as serious as it looked. Joel’s shirt had been ripped open, giving you a clear view of the gauze that had been quickly wrapped and immediately soaked in his blood. It was a gut wound, and you knew from books how excruciating those could be. It was a miracle he was even conscious at all, and you wondered what IV the commune had access to.

“The prospects are good, but you know we don’t do surgeries very often…” Maria’s voice held a small quiver, possibly considering her own health concerns. The Jackson Commune would have a limited supply of antibiotics, penicillin and other medicines, but it was obviously for emergencies only. Living and dying had always been a messy business, but the apocalypse reduced everything to one or the other.

“Please, can I touch him?” your voice drifted out of you as though from another country, as the only doctor in the commune raced into the room to check Joel’s vitals.

“Make it fast, Teach…taking him in any second…”.

As though moving through quicksand, you found yourself outstretching your hands towards Joel, afraid to touch him. As though he were made of glass and could easily shatter at any moment, you touched your fingertips lightly to his face, watching his eyelids sluggishly flutter open. What pretty eyelashes, you obscurely thought, now mostly unaware of every other flurry surrounding the room.

“Hey Teach” Joel choked, his fingers twitching quietly over his abdomen, as you circled your thumb over his patchy beard. Dirt and grime had seeped into every crinkle, highlighting his sun-kissed wrinkles, but his eyes held the youthful fear of a young boy. “Tommy tell you I need an extension on my homework assignment?” he smiled tiredly, closing his eyes once again.

“Absolutely unacceptable” you whispered. “The moment you get out of surgery I’m subjecting you to a pop quiz”. You joked tenderly, reaching for Ellie’s nearby hand and pulling her into the conversation. “You don’t want this one to surpass you, right?”. Joel’s eyes shot open with a new awareness, immediately flooding with a host of tears.

“Sarah” he rasped before closing his eyes once again. Tommy lowered his head solemnly as Maria’s eyes widened in acknowledgement. You squeezed Ellie’s hand with encouragement.

“Go on honey, he’s just confused” you offered, catching the intensity of Ellie’s stare as she hesitantly stepped forward. Joel’s eyes fluttered open again with confusion.

“Tell ‘em…” Joel mumbled, his fingers quivering softly in front of him as you brushed a feather-light kiss over his lips before they took him down the hallway.

“Ellie, please…” he continued “Tommy already knows. Please. You gotta tell ‘em” his words started to slur slightly as you gazed helplessly around the room looking to the doctor.

“We gotta take him” the doctor stated, gesturing to the volunteers in the room who grabbed Joel’s cot by both ends gently.

“I’ll be here Joel…” you called after him, leaving the group standing impotently silent, the din of chaotic voices suddenly cascading in from the foyer.

“What did he mean by that?” Maria asked, looking to Tommy for understanding as you gripped Ellie around the shoulders bracingly. Tommy kept looking at the floor as Ellie maintained a tight lipped reservation in response to your probing gaze.

“He’s got to be okay” Ellie stated desperately, rubbing at her forearms with anxiety.

“He will be” you lied. In this moment, you were hanging on by the thinnest of threads, but were determined to offer whatever confidence you could muster. “He’ll be fine because he has to be”.

The group stood poised in silence until Maria broached the subject once again. “Tommy…what did he mean?” Tommy refused to meet her eyes, but glanced quickly at Ellie for confirmation. You gripped Ellie tightly around the shoulders, uncertain as to how to support in the best way possible. You knew he was medicated and nearly delirious, but his words seemed sincerely motivated.

“I…” Ellie halted, looking around the small room, as though expecting a myriad of clickers to come cascading through the doorway. “How much did Joel tell you about our escape from the Fireflies?” she muttered, nearly under her breath. You held your breath with nervous anticipation. This was it. This is what Joel was trying to protect. WHO he was trying to protect…

“Not much” Maria offered, a tinge of betrayal spiking her tonality. “Tommy won’t tell me any of the details, just says I should keep my mouth shut…” she grumbled, looking to Tommy with slight annoyance. Tommy and Ellie knowingly locked eyes, as you observed her clawing and voraciously itching at her forearm, as though trying to tear it off. A cry of anguish from the foyer jostled your group out of its tumultuous reverie, as Ellie shook her head with defiance.

“Just leave me alone…” she muttered, wrenching herself out of your grasp and heading for the exit. Maria breathed a sigh of frustration, clutching her abdomen protectively.

“I pushed. Pushed too hard…” she observed, throwing her hands up in supplication. “Damn it. Tommy why the fuck do you ever let me talk out loud!” she tried to jest, contemplating sitting on the floor and finally giving up with frustration. “I need to take a walk…” she grumbled, heading out the door before slapping Tommy across the back of the head, eliciting a small smile of acknowledgement. Tommy’s eyes stayed locked to the floor.

“Women” he smiled, one small tear falling to the floor and dotting his dirtied boot. You grabbed his hand lovingly, nodding your head. Emotions were running high, including your own. You genuinely believed that Joel would pull through, besides which you couldn’t stew any longer in your own anxiety.

“You’ll be here?” you asked, watching Tommy shuffle his feet awkwardly.

“Not going anywhere” Tommy stated matter a factly, before giving your hand an exhausted squeeze.

“Okay, let me talk to her…” you offered before casting one final glance in the direction of the surgery room, willing Joel to sense your telepathic concern.

Joel. Fight. Fight like a motherfucker. I can’t lose you. Not yet. Fight. We need you. I need you.

You turned on your heel and headed out the door, knowing the one place Ellie would go for solace. Trudging through the cold and rain which had turned the previous snow to a dirtied sludge, you were quite a distance from The Bookshop. Finally alone with your thoughts and overwhelming emotions, one reality bubbled to the service with stark clarity;

….Levi was dead.

You weren’t exactly pleased, but wondered at his unexpected demise. Is it possible that Joel had something to do with it? You batted the thought away with annoyance. But with Levi’s death came the completion of a chapter of life that had long since ended. You were thankful for the closure, and desperately wanted to talk with Joel. IF he was able. You winced painfully, shoving those intrusive thoughts out of your mind as quickly as they appeared. Nearing the Bookshop you already saw the telltale signs of the woodburning stove and pacing tom-cat. It just wasn’t Rascal this time, it was Ellie. You approached cautiously, the bell at the door muffling a somber sounding ‘ding’ as you pried the door open tentatively.

“Can I come in?” you ventured, spying Rascal the Cat who was similarly peeking its head from behind the bookshelves. Ellie didn’t respond, just continued her cyclical pacing around the room in a flurried fashion. You shut the door behind you, backing up against it so as not to frighten her unduly. Ellie made another loop around the totality of the Bookshop as Rascal eyed you both suspiciously. Whilst obviously aware of your presence, Ellie seemed undeterred from her meditative flurry as she muttered something under her breath.

“Endure and survive, endure and survive, endure and survive….”

It took you a couple passes to gather what she might be repeating as she continued to scratch at her forearms, so you decided to take up residence in the foyer armchair, wrapping the quilt around yourself protectively. You were thankful to be distracted by your care for Ellie, otherwise you might have crawled out of your own skin waiting for the surgery to be successful. After a few minutes you decided on a different tactic.

“Have you arrived at the confession yet?”.

Ellie’s circular path halted, placing her behind a bookshelf, effectively hidden from your sight. You had struck a chord. Maybe if she couldn’t immediately make her own confession, you could arrive at via literary resources.

“Of course, Rascal tries to make his confession multiple times before he finally succeeds with Sophia…” you continued as Ellie’s mantra resumed, albeit at a slower tempo.

“Endure and survive, endure and survive…”.

“When Rascalonikov finally confesses, he moves from a place of human isolation to Divine consummation. Much like Lazarus, he begins to participate in his own rebirth; his own moral resurrection, rejoining the community via his own suffering and eventual redemption…”. Ellie quietly stopped pacing as Rascal the Cat nearly bumped into her calves and stared at you with a fixed intensity. “Just don’t tell Joel, I don’t think he’s read to that part yet…” your voice finally wobbled with emotion, allowing the smallest thread of reality to seep into your periphery.

Rascal the Cat slowly began stalking in the opposite direction, as Ellie attempted not to trip.

“And when he eventually does, a lot of it is steeped in anger and bitterness…”. Ellie remained undeterred in her pacing, but the words dulled to a non-existent roar. “That’s one of Dostoyevsky’s main points, regardless of society’s aversion to it, the true human of conscience can’t escape their own Divinity. Morality becomes it’s own punishment…and salvation…”. You were just winging it here, but how many lectures were born out of spontaneous desperation? Pouring your fervor and anxiety into the one beneficial thing you could helplessly do, was less of a decision and more of a reaction. Rascal the Cat had finally ceased his opposition and trotted merrily behind Ellie in her slowing circle of perseveration.

“If you had the power to save Levi’s life…would you?” she rasped, Rascal plopping down on the floor lazily and beginning to play with Ellie’s tangled shoestrings. Your mouth fell open dryly as the pit of your stomach dropped to the floor abruptly. An unexpected bout of tears immediately sprung to your eyes as the room stilled with a newfound, pulsing heat. You grasped helplessly at emotions you obligated yourself to, contrasted by the confusing substantiality of what was. Waiting for your response, Ellie delicately walked towards you, seating herself at your feet and looking out the main foyer window pensively. “If somehow you had the power to save, even the worst of these…would you do it?”.

You closed your eyes with consternation, Joel’s small, pained form seared into the recesses of your mind. Could both seeming dichotomies be true? Were punishment and salvation so inexorably entwined that humanity could never distentangle them?

“I think…” you cleared your throat from the emotion-filled rasp that greeted you. “I think…I somehow hated Levi enough to WANT him dead, but would do almost anything to keep him alive. It doesn’t make a lot of sense. But that doesn’t make it any less true…”. You collapsed back into the chair with exhaustion as Ellie laid her head against your leg with a restless, contentment. Rascal jumped into your lap, settling himself for a catnap as the snow began to drift lazily across the cold, foyer window. And that’s how you stayed, until the bell rang loudly at the Bookshop Door with Maria’s rushed entrance. You didn’t know when you had all fallen asleep but the specks of whitened snow were now dotted against the darkened, evening sky.

“Joel’s out of surgery!” Maria’s voice jarred you from your tumultuous reverie, as adrenaline kicked your heart into a flurry of activity.

Joel was awake.

Running into the infirmary, ghosts of the previous chaos hung lightly in the air, as you noticed a handful of men, sleeping quietly in corners or speaking in hushed tones. Piles of bloodied rags and emptied IV bags were piled haphazardly outside of the walkway, as Tommy barreled towards you and Maria. “He’s asking for you both” Tommy sighed with relative relief, holding Maria’s hands and stifling a wash of tears. “They removed the bullet, and if we can hold off infection, he should make a steady recovery” his voice trembled with emotion as Maria nodded her head with encouragement. “It’s good that we’re both the same blood type” he smirked with chagrin. “‘Seems only fitting if I got Joel nearly killed out there, that I should have something to do with his recovery”. You smiled with gratitude, grasping Tommy’s forearm and then heading tentatively into the make-shift recovery room.

Seeing Joel’s skin in a grayish hue, but his otherwise serene expression, dotted with a slight sheen of perspiration was a mixture of solace and concern. But he was safe. Ellie took your hand shakily as intently watched Joel’s chest rise and fall in steady breath. The four of you stood poised at Joel’s bedside, somber and quiet. It was quite a bit of time before Ellie’s voice tentatively emerged.

“I have to tell you…” she whispered, barely audible, as Joel’s eyelids fluttered sweetly in medicated sleep. Maria pursed her lips stubbornly, determined to protect the fragility of the moment.

“Tell us what, honey?” you swallowed, not taking your eyes off of Joel. None of you wanted to disrupt the intimacy of your connection. You were alive. There was something about death that made living all the sweeter. Ellie slowly reached down and peeled back the sleeve of her flannel revealing the puckered and veined laceration of an apparent infection. Without meaning to, you dropped her hand reactively, bringing your hand up to your mouth with revulsion. Tommy closed his eyes and dropped his head to the ground, while Maria gasped in quiet surprise.

“Ellie, are you?…When?…” Maria’s voice was pinched and cautious as Tommy shook his head quietly, holding her fixedly in place.

“Let ‘er talk first…” Tommy’s voice graveled, as you grabbed her hand again in forced solidarity.

“Are you sick? Are you infected?” the words tumbled out of your mouth as Joel stirred slightly in the bed.

“I thought I was…” Ellie’s confession now poured out of her without hesitation or limit. “But I’m immune. Joel knows. He’s known for a while. That’s what we were trying to do with the Fireflies. We were trying to find a cure”. The words hung awkwardly in the air as Maria’s brow crumpled in disbelief.

“That’s what you’ve been hiding?” Maria looked to Tommy doubtfully as he remained stoically in place. Ellie swallowed dolefully, her eyes widened to saucer-shaped orbs of apology.

“There are others” Ellie blurted out, as Joel stirred once again, his fingers quivering at his sides helplessly, unbeknownst to you and the group. “I’m not the only one, but it’s dangerous for anyone to know. There’s no cure. At least none that we could find. We got out of there as fast possible once raiders descended on the hospital. Joel saved me. He might have saved us all” Ellie reflected, looking back at his stilled form on the gurney. “I’m sorry Maria” her voice broke with defeat. “I didn’t want to get your hopes up…for you…and the baby. But no one can know…” her shoulders sagged with overwhelm before Joel’s voice rumbled low and quiet against the stillness.

“Hey Teach…” he smiled tiredly, reaching a hand out towards you and Ellie as you both quickly moved towards him. “When’s that pop quiz you promised me?”. The five of you laughed with relief before Joel winced in relative pain, clutching his abdomen tenderly. You made quick eye contact with Maria and Ellie in knowing acknowledgement of discussions yet to be traversed. But not now. Now, was the time for healing and rest.

“Come on Joel” you sighed with reassurance. “Let’s get you home”.

Sexy Series Masterlist

Pedge says that one of his favorite pastimes is Therapeutic Smut. Although he wants me to convey that he is not a registered clinician, Pedge is very interested in discussing challenging topics like self-expression, identity, and spirituality but likes it with a side of sexiness. These are all RPF so please proceed with caution . Come join us on the cuddle coach if you are 18+...

Knitting Back Together

Rocky Road

Sweet Dreams

Euphoria

The Purpose of Pleasure

Intimacy and Empathy

The Boxing Match

Intoxicated

A Sense of Pride

Use Somebody

Death of Self

Pedge's Bookshop Series Masterlist

Foyer: There are already so many great AU fics featuring all our favorite Pedro Boys and I'd like to showcase them! In the Coffee Shop Foyer you'll find some great rec's for coffee and books alike. Bring your library card--this if one of my favorite tropes!

Bookshop: We started this series with Joel as our bookshop owner. Reading several of Pedro Pascal's book recommendations, the bookshop continues to get more material; join in on the fun!

Crime and Punishment (with Joel Miller)

Crime and Punishment; Prologue Crime and Punishment; The Murder Crime and Punishment; The Family Crime and Punishment; The Argument Crime and Punishment; The Lecture Crime and Punishment; The Visitor Crime and Punishment; The Dinner Crime and Punishment; The Calm Crime and Punishments; Before Crime and Punishment; The Storm Crime and Punishment; The Patrol Crime and Punishment; The Wound Crime and Punishment; The Confession Crime and Punishment; The Epilogue

Novellas:

Crime and Punishment Fic-Let Crime and Punishment; The Dream Crime and Punishment; The Talk Bookstore IG

What Happened to Belen? (with Javier Pena)

Part One Part Two

In Cold Blood (with Tim Rockford)

In Cold Blood: The Exposition In Cold Blood; The Road Trip In Cold Blood; The Funeral

WIP Book Nook: There are so many amazing rec's from Pedro that I'd love to unpack! Here are some possibilities on the horizon. What fics do you want to see?

The Urge; Our History of Addiction w/ Dieter Bravo Franny and Zooey w/ Mr. Ben The Gender of Sound w/ Pedge Drive Your Plow...w/ Tim Rockford

Audible Original; The Reservoir

Ghost Radio

NewYorkNewYork

Okay Broadway Babies, Tumblr may have finished this trend, but Pedge and I are going strong! If RPF is for you, check out my most personal work yet, and first series. It's a fantastical journey through my professional time in NY, and what better way to celebrate than with Pedge at our side!

Triggers: Set in 2014, it might progress to some lite smut, but this first episode only includes a slightly tipsy trip and mild profanity. NYC is rough enough--save the drama for your llama...

New York, New York Series Moody Thespian Pedge Tweets Masterlist Moody Theater J's Jams

Pedro Party!

Oooh, can we make this a thing? Of course, every day is a good day to celebrate PP, but this Friday is ESPECIALLY joyful because it's time to hit the dance floor! Alright Pedge! I see some of those moves from last night, we are, of course, aware of your many talents! Yes, I think the disco ball is actually in the closet, give me a second....

In any case, as Pedge proceeds to "bust a move" (hopefully without irritating his lower back) I've been wondering how our favorite PP characters would celebrate Pedro with us?

Let's keep the party going and thank you @sp00kymulderr for such a fun idea! Yes, Pedge, I will save you a dance and get to work on those chocolate chip cookies...

My Darling Muse vii,

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

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

Series Masterlist

My Darling Muse,

I hardly know where I begin, nd where you end They say it pisses Love off, when you ignore Them So I observe You for all eternity I will embody Love for you, Love I, the red of passion, and You the hue of Blue Together we are royalty, we are wine, we are intoxication We are the Purple Haze. we are the Purple Summer We are a sea of irises, the sweet juice of the grape The prism of ultraviolet that is never seen, rather felt You breath me in, I exhale you lazily The fire that never quenches, The addiction that never harms We are the Purple Rain that drenches the drought Baptizing, redeeming, healing, a church of longing In you I form a new self, in you, my color truer still We bleed into each other, giving life; stilling death Written in the Margins: How do Purple Feelings, feel? Purple People Eater--Double Entrendre?

Hey folks! This is J, Dieter's PA. We have had our hands full with the recent debut of Dieter's latest film "Pike's Place". In it, he plays a character named Marcus Pike who is snowed in during a blizzard with his own Muse. Dieter took the time during filming to start reading "The Color Purple", but abandoned it in favor of the recent movie stating, "he wanted to look at more pretty pictures". Either way, Dieter seems to have been deeply impacted by its gravitas and assembled this self-portrait to consider the many ways purple has benefitted his life.

He also assembled the playlist Dieter's Deets to "get him in a purple mood", though I'm unclear what is particularly purple about it. Outside of drinking copious amounts of red wine and indulging in Purple Haze, this seems to be the primary way Dieter continues to passionately make love to....colors.

Filming has been stressful for D during this time, and I've advised him that it might be time to revisit rehab, if for nothing else, than the celery juice. There is a current campaign in the public eye to "Get Dieter Sober" to make sure he is Oscar ready for "Cliff Beasts 7". I personally think this is an excellent opportunity for respite. Though Dieter might never be completely sober, I feel he should at least be more...conscious.

He is currently napping in his silk purple pajamas and listening to "Purple Rain" on repeat...snoring.

*thanks @bernardsbendystraws for the cool dividers

Moody Pedge

Mood Boards are something new I'm trying for those literary moments I want to do a shout out or a quick vibe of Pedro Fun! Pedge is obviously a self-made man but I haven't had the heart to tell him that Bitmoji is also involved. He might be moody, but chocolate chip cookies always seem to regulate him...

Rainy Day Moody Dieter Moody Pena Moody Joel Moody Javi Moody Frankie Moody Marcus Moody Max Moody Dave Moody Silva Moody Acacius Moody Moreno Moody Mom Moody Oberyn Moody Maxwell Moody Dio Moody Lucien Moody Bi Moody Whiskey Moody SNL Moody Met Moody Rockford Moody Thespian Moody SAG Awards Moody Fall Moody Witch Moody Ricky Moody Gladiator Moody Nathan Moody Zodiac (Dieter style) Moody Pirate Pedge (Halloween short) Moody Thanksgiving Moody Fink Moody Theater Moody Superbowl

Writers, please feel free to use any of these mood boards for inspiration! Just give me a tag so I can read your AMAZING fics! Let's get writing!