Knitting Back Together

Pedge's Bookshop The Confession

Grab a Pastry! lounge around in the foyer with this sweet fic "A Baker's Dozen" @avastrasposts before heading into the Bookshop!

Triggers: profanity, Last of Us canon + references, implied PTSD/anxiety attack, MAJOR spoilers for "Crime and Punishment", sexy time snuggles, discussion of death/murder/suicide, nightmare, surgery recovery...This is the second to last installment of the series, which should place us at the ready for the LOU April release...

Series Masterlist

Words: 3.5 k

The long trek home had taken just under an hour, including pauses for water and grumbles as Ellie rambled continuously.

“Hey Joel…” Ellie’s voice distractedly interrupted from the sidelines, as Joel huffed and puffed at his very own doorstep. “What’s the fastest mode of transportation?”. Joel gripped the porch stairs doggedly, as perspiration dotted his forehead and your fingers dug into the side of his hip supportively.

“Shut the hell up….” Joel growled, his patience long since evaporated as he stubbornly made the slow journey from the infirmary to his community residence.

“Guess it’s not you…” Ellie muttered under her breath, before shouting quite loudly, “The bullet train!” she guffawed, as Joel took several halting steps up the porch before yanking the front door open huffily. His heavy laden feet nearly caught the lip of the doorframe as you both lurched into the living room, eventually depositing Joel on the tattered living room sofa, with as much gentility as an avalanche. You knew it was important for Joel to hold on to his stoic self-belief, but his current physical limitations had all but depleted whatever reserves Joel housed. He was completely exhausted, and you were keen to help him start the healing process as soon as possible.

“Looks like you finally made it home, old man!” Ellie’s voice was a bit strained as she attempted to ignore her own insecurities about Joel’s fragile state. You smirked, knowing that her prodding was probably the best medicine for his combative soul. Maybe when things quieted down, you could offer the rest and relaxation Joel so desperately needed in contrast. “You seem barrel-y able to contain your excitement…get it? Barrel?” Ellie plopped down beside Joel on the couch eliciting a wince from his heated and pained expression.

“Jesus, Ellie I’ll be lucky if my stitches don’t rip, will ya give me a minute?” he grumbled, looking down at his abdomen tenderly, hesitant to examine the wrappings beneath his perspiration soaked flannel. It wasn’t everyday that a commune resident was recovering from surgery, let alone a gunshot wound, but after a week in the infirmary, Joel was nearly crawling out of his skin. Determined to go it alone, he had stubbornly refused a cane or wheeled transport of any kind, but had quickly ascertained the difficulty of his aspirations. Even with the commune’s significant stock of penicillin, it was going to prove a difficult month. He might have already done some damage, and he wasn’t even in his own bed yet. Joel gritted his teeth even harder.

“Sorry” Ellie finally quieted with a defeated tone. You reached up tenderly to wipe the sheen of sweat off his brow, as Joel closed his eyes tiredly, laying back slightly against the sofa. He was feeling every bit his 57 years, as a few stars dotted the periphery of his darkened vision. This might be something that tenacity alone couldn’t mend, and he would be grateful for all the help he could get, once he caught his breath. You watched Ellie’s countenance drop as the gravitas of the last week started to catch up to her. Joel remained unaware, so you offered a tight lipped encouragement from the other side of the couch. You would all get through this together. Some things just took time.

“I could go to the Tipsy Bison and get your favorite whiskey?” Ellie ventured, sitting up with the possibility of a task at hand. Joel smiled tiredly, his forehead already relaxing from the daunting escapades of the day.

“No way in hell they’ll give it to a kid…” his words slurred a bit as his body sank further into the couch.

“Wanna bet?” Ellie popped up jauntily from the couch, excited to put her pent up tension to beneficial use. “I’ll just tell ‘em we need it…medicinally…” as she headed out the door with confidence. You smirked with relief, glad to finally have Joel at home and resting for the entire month. The bullet hadn’t nicked any major arteries, and had avoided his organs, but the muscles were going to take at least a month to begin the mending process, and outside of antibiotics, there weren’t very many painkillers that the commune could offer. You were about to expand your expertise from teaching to nursing, and didn’t mind one bit. Joel’s breath steadied evenly in his chest as you delicately stroked his forehead and scalp soothingly. Content to stay there for the rest of the evening, you watched his face carefully for the next 15 minutes before his body jerked awake with newfound adrenaline. His eyes flashed with temporary disorientation before clasping your hand and holding it tightly to his chest.

“Had the worst nightmare…Somebody shot me, and Ellie wouldn’t shut up” he drawled, closing his eyes again and massaging your hand with affection. Leave it to Joel to be joking and taking care of other people, when he was the one in pain.

“Oh that would never happen…” you relaxed into the side of his body, tilting your head against his shoulder with ease. “Ellie is so soft spoken…” you teased, noticing the graying dusk of early evening begin to shadow against the living room window. “Think we can get up the stairs to bed, mister?” you questioned, giving a light kiss to the edge of his broad shoulder before catching his beleaguered and mischievous expression. 

“Thought you’d never ask, Teach.”

Certainly, this wasn’t the time to be indulging particularly fantasies in the bedroom, but you couldn’t help but eagerly anticipate the closeness this might provide for you and Joel. It took another 30 minutes to hesitantly ascend the stairs, but you finally deposited Joel in his bed and began removing his boots amidst his protestations. 

“Will ya quit babying me? I’m fine…” Joel complained, starting to unbutton his flannel and gaze curiously at the wrappings across his abdomen. Your eyes greedily took in the hair peppering his broad chest and belly button, up until the area shaved from surgery. You gulped hungrily, wrenching his boot off and depositing it at the foot of his bed.

“Are you going to be this ornery the entire month?” you accused, not altogether surprised. You had interacted with many a stubborn man, but Joel seemed to take the cake. The stauncher the patient the harder the fall, you surmised, batting Joel’s hand away and exploring the wrappings yourself. There was a bit of spotting from the arduous transport, and Joel was due for dinner and a round of penicillin. “How much are you going to argue if I suggest a sponge bath?”. Joel’s eyes widened to the shape of saucers, as he grew immediately self conscious of his body and glistening skin. His cheeks reddened slightly as he considered the possibility.

“I mean…I don’t…complain about everything…” his visage gained a boyish quality as he bit his lip and started fumbling with the nearby blankets. You smiled appreciatively. Score. Most men were big teddy bears, after they raged against the dying of the light. You peeled the wrappings back as Joel pouted bitterly.

“Alright, let’s get some food in you so you can take your medicine, and then we’ll make sure someone is set and cozy for bed” you offered, before Joel desperately grabbed at your hand, looking deep into your eyes.

“I….’preciate it” he managed to get out reservedly, as his eyes finally softened in the darkening room.

“My pleasure” you countered, leaning in for a tender kiss before heading downstairs to the kitchen, and stopping at the door way. “DON’T…” Joel paused mid exploration as you leveled your eyes skeptically in his direction “…paw at those wrappings until I come back, understand?”

“Yes’m” he quipped, though you weren’t entirely sure if he were joking. With or without Joel’s help, you were going to relish your new role as private commune nurse.

The days passed slowly, but delightedly as you nursed Joel back to health. The surgery had preceded your normal Spring Break, but in an unexpected turn of events, the commune had allowed you and Ellie to assign reading and creative projects on a weekly basis. With your permission, Ellie had even assembled class for a few hours once a week to help the students’ progress. You grinned, imagining Ellie’s lack of diplomacy as she regaled you with her first foray into instruction, accidentally making one student cry over math permutations and counseling another on the finer points of dealing with bullying. Apparently her first admonition was to just ‘punch the sucker right in the nose’, but having thought better of the ramifications for an eight year old, eventually encouraged them with subtler points from “Crime and Punishment”. You chuckled sweetly, rolling your eyes as Ellie sat on the edge of Joel’s bed, recounting the school day's events. 

“That’s my girl…” Joel nodded curtly, looking helplessly around the room and picking up his copy of “Crime and Punishment” once again. Within the week, he had caught up to Ellie’s literary progress and both of them were nearing the completion. Mostly absorbed with Joel’s recovery and the ongoing school year, you hadn’t yet broached the tender topic of Elk Creek or any of the unresolved questions that Ellie’s previous confession had elicited. 

She was immune. But how far did that immunity extend? How long would it last? And most importantly, was there any way her immunity could be duplicated? You didn’t know the answers to any of those questions, and alongside the immediate concern of Joel’s well-being and emotional wellness, you couldn’t perseverate too long. But if the three of you wanted a future together, there were some tough conversations ahead. Maybe you could help in more ways than just soup and sponge baths.

“How’s The Bookshop holdin’ up?” Joel asked for the umpteenth time, shifting awkwardly in the bed and grumbling at his limitations. He hated feeling helpless, and it was taking every iota of his strength to remain sedentary in the recovery process.

“Pretty good. Think we’re about ready for openin’ whenever you are” Ellie guessed, drawing the blanket between her fingers appraisingly. “Rascal might even host if you’re not feelin’ up to it” she joked, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning back smugly. 

“It’ll be a cold day in hell ‘fore that happens” Joel’s drawl intensified as he sat up taller, attempting to hide the momentary discomfort of shifting positions. Recovery was hard enough, but with no pain killers, you didn’t envy Joel’s challenging position. You were glad to help in any way that you could, watching Ellie’s face falter with hesitation.

“Shit, I forgot to feed him after class today” she observed, shrugging guiltily before standing up. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do…” she playfully punched Joel’s outstretched foot before squeezing your shoulder warmly and heading downstairs.

“Maybe sweep the floor while you’re there!” Joel called after, before grinning sheepishly in your direction. “Builds character…” he joked, settling further back in the bed, and patting the space beside him. “Back to our reading nook?” he tantalized, grabbing the pair of glasses he used for reading and lovingly fingering the pages of “Crime and Punishment”. You all but squealed with delight, being careful not to jostle the bed too wholeheartedly and delicately placed yourself in the crook of his embrace, resting your head softly on his shoulder. Draping your leg tentatively over his you sweetly placed a hand near his abdomen, willing the recent wound to continue mending. This wasn’t the moment for sexual intimacy, but sharing this last week with Joel had offered a tenderness your past relationships never could. You sighed contentedly as Joel returned to his reading selection.

“Don’t give Snake Eyes that goofy accent again” you chided, giggling quietly to yourself as Joel looked down his spectacles at you with skepticism. 

“Don’t like my Russian accent darlin’?” he teased, rocking you slightly and grunting with the effort. Joel cleared his throat and began again as you relaxed into him. 

“He seemed hardly to know what he was doing. He could not stay still or concentrate his attention on anything; his ideas seemed to gallop after one another, he talked incoherently, his hands trembled slightly. Without a word Sonia took out of the drawer two crosses. It’s the symbol of my taking up the cross, he laughed. As though I had not suffered much till now! Well, now I am going to prison and you'll have your wish. Well, what are you crying for? You too? Don't. Leave off! Oh, how I hate it all! But his feeling was stirred; his heart ached, as he looked at her. Why is she grieving too? he thought to himself. What am I to her? Why does she weep? Why is she looking after me? I am a murderer. He trembled, remembering that. And the hopeless misery and anxiety of all that time, especially of the last hours, had weighed so heavily upon him that he positively clutched at the chance of this new unmixed, complete sensation. It came over him like a fit; it was like a single spark kindled in his soul and spreading fire through him. Everything in him softened at once and the tears started into his eyes. He fell to the earth on the spot. Raskolnikov at that moment felt and knew once for all that Sonia was with him for ever and would follow him to the ends of the earth, wherever fate might take him. It wrung his heart…”.

Joel sighed heavily, looking down at your resting face, expecting you to perhaps be asleep, but a single tear was cascading down your cheek as he reached down to wipe it away. “My reading’ that bad darlin’?” he coo’ed, wondering at your emotion. Your voice came out more raspy than you intended, but the moment was upon you. “Joel…Can you tell me what happened on the way back to Elk Creek? How did…?” your voice stalled with hesitation, finally motivated by desperation and curiosity. “How did Levi die?”.

Joel swallowed dryly, taking off his glasses and setting the book down. “You sure you want to know?” he began, gripping your chin lightly between his thumb and forefinger. You nodded solemnly, your glassy eyes radiating in the late afternoon sunlight. Joel nodded once and continued. “It was the damndest thing. The whole trip he was like a mockingbird in a lonely meadow. Jabbering on and on, and asking questions about us. Not hardly makin’ any sense. Didn’t think I could feel sorry for that man, but he seemed right emptied out. Like he couldn’t think of anything worth living for” Joel paused, shaking his head with confusion. “Had to bite my tongue multiple times to keep from suggesting a quick exit, until….” Joel's breath hitched violently in his chest as he squirmed slightly with the memory of it.

“Until what?” you whispered, terrified to discover the revealing truth of that fateful day.

“Never thought I’d see a man more lonely than me” Joel observed, hugging you all the tighter against his side as you snuggled in for warmth. “Made me realize what my life could look like without you and Ellie at my side. We had our backs up against a wall, and Levi’s men were scattering left and right. And I saw it. Whatever flicker of rage or passion or fight he had left, just evaporated right in front of me. He ran headlong into the swarm of infected and that was the end of that”. The proceeding silence hung in the air morosely as you considered Joel’s words carefully. Death by clicker. What a way to go. Seemed counterintuitive to think of Levi as any kind of Savior. But maybe realizing that himself, Levi executed the only action that made any sense.

“Get busy livin’ or get busy dyin’” Joel muttered under his breath, almost to himself as you shivered coldly. You hadn’t realized how tired you were until that very moment and it wasn’t a few minutes later you were drifting into a heavy sleep, weighed down by the confusion and exhaustion of the last several weeks, held firmly against Joel’s side protectively.

You couldn’t reach him. Struggling through a maelstrom of acidic fog you coughed and sputtered in the fluorescent glow. Where the hell were you? The entire bog seemed to reek of a sulphuric bitterness, you couldn’t escape. The books were crumbling, your willpower was waning. Weighted down by a nearly paralytic heaviness, you reached forward as a hand grasped yours firmly. Drawing it towards you, you saw the deteriorating and skeletal face of Levi, his bony fingers, interwoven with yours, pulling you down and down and down. The sticky atmosphere was muffling your cries as you sank further and further into the quicksand of ever increasing doubts…

Joel. Joel. Joel….

You jerked awake, finding yourself in the twilight of dusk, particles of dust floating through the air in hazy delicacy. Thank God. Joel. You turned to look at him in solace, but were crestfallen to see his own tumultuous sleeping expression, perspiring under the heated upstairs oppression. In sleep, his fingers twitched nervously at his sides as you swallowed dryly. “Joel?” you rasped ineffectively, his lips pursing in unknown words and nightmarish phrases. You tenderly reached up to touch his shoulder, remember your first encounter in the Bookshop. You didn’t want him to needlessly suffer, but PTSD was an exacting beast. You tried to gently rouse him from his torment, wondering where Ellie was and if you should call the commune doctor, when Joel’s eyes flew open wildly in horror. He immediately grasped his chest with terror, his breath hitching violently in his chest as you timidly placed your hand over his.

“I’m here, I’m here, I’m here, I’m here…” you breathed steadily and soothingly as his eyes shakily found yours in the darkening upstairs bedroom. “You’re safe. With me. We are safe. Together”. You felt the strength of his heart beating powerfully against his ribcage as his mouth struggled to draw in one shaky breath after another. “Easy, easy…” you felt like you were coaxing a stallion or nursing a wounded animal. There were so many nightmares to choose from, how could you help one another escape?

“Ellie told you” Joel’s voice creaked out of him, as though on a wiry hinge, textured with gravel and broken glass.

“Told me what, honey?”

“Told you ‘bout the Fireflies…” Joel closed his eyes, trying to steel himself against a barrage of memories and unbidden images.

“She finally told us, in the hospital…” you began, before Joel sat up abruptly.

“The hospital…” he gasped, moving stiffly, attempting to get out of the bed.

“You’re not in the hospital anymore…you’re here with me…” you grasped him fervently around the chest, hesitant to rip any more stitches.

“You don’t….understand…”. He seemed almost delirious as you looked helplessly around the room for support.

“Will you lay still for me? Please? Let me get you a cold washcloth…” you negotiated, feeling his heartbeat ticking heavily and strongly against your forearm.

“They’re dead. All of ‘em.” his voice rumbled against your arm forebodingly as you paused in your struggle with him.

“Who, Joel? The infected? The raiders?” Joel continued to struggle against you, as you carefully straddled his hips with as much force as possible. “Honey, you’re gonna rip your sutures if you keep wrestling like that, can you please breathe for me?” you were reaching a point of desperation, amazed at Joel’s strength, even in repose, but determined to bring him back into the land of the living.

“I’m a murderer” he spat, writhing beneath you forcefully as you pushed down on his shoulders as hard as you could. You tried to ignore his words, recognizing his feverish incapacity, but startling nonetheless. The apocalypse had included so much death, what could he possibly be referring to? “In the hospital…I saved HER. I killed them all…”. He wasn’t making any sense; you had to get his fever to break.

“Joel, lie still!” your voice echo’d through the house authoritatively. You absentmindedly wondered if Ellie were within earshot as Joel immediately stilled in awareness of the edge in your voice. His pupils narrowed to a focused pinpoint as he grasped your face emphatically with both hands.

“The Fireflies” he wheezed, perspiration now dripping down the sides of his temples profusely. “They found out about Ellie’s immunity…and they tried….to kill her…in the hospital…” his words were a bit jumbled and halting, but the force of his desperation seemed to cut through the oppressive heat like a knife. This wasn’t an ongoing fever dream. Something about this was real. You gulped back tears of acknowledgement. “So I saved her….” his eyelids started to grow heavy with effort as his arms relaxed by his side. “I saved her…and killed me…”. His eyes shut with exhaustion, as his body finally stilled amidst the disheveled sheets, your body still atop him. His breathing eventually resumed an even pace, though his face seemed cemented in a pained expression of distress. You sighed with relief, checking his bandages, and wiping his forehead lightly with the sleeve of your shirt. But as you laid down next to him, the impact of his words hit you like a ton of bricks.

A murderer.

You could dismiss it, like his drunken admission. Another feverish nightmare, punctuated by an ill-advised confession. But. There was something about his words that seemingly rang true. And if it WERE true, who would know? And to what lengths would you go to protect the ones you loved? You gazed longingly at his profile, listening for sounds of Ellie in the empty house, but none materialized. 

It was just you, Joel…and the deadening silence of his confession.

@littlemisspascal @wannabe-urs

@beefrobeefcal @sawymredfox @anelva

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

@schnarfer @devineconjuring @mermaidgirl30 @mandolover37 @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog 

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

@copperhalfcent @bluesweaters15 @drewharrisonwriter @darkheartgatita

@harriedandharassed @brittmb115 @confusedpuffin @zaniasky @quicax3

WIP Poll

I've already finished the third episode of the Roll-a-Trope challenge scheduled for September 22nd! I have some fun October WIPs. The people have spoken and I joined the Trope-Off 2024!

Pedro-Tober #5

Awwww! 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 stylishly decorated hands full. Look at these amazing artists! Thanks for making our month so colorful!

26.) Vanity Fair IG: laurenbdoeslife

27.) The Last of Us IG: craftingwithamyc

28.) Marcus Moreno @alyssamariag

Marcus Pike "Pike's Place", "A Different Happy Ending" @pedges-world

29.) The Uninvited @norththelemon

30.) Fav Awards Fit IG: milkbreaddoodles

31: SAG Awards IG: sewfydoodles

Series Masterlist

Death of Self Giflet

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

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

My Darling Muse + Pedge's Jukebox

Hey folks! This is J, Dieter's PA. Two dynamic worlds have combined to bring you this Very Special Episode of "My Darling Muse" and Pedge's Jukebox. Just to be safe, I'm going to include triggers from both series and advise you to proceed with caution. Dieter was particularly saucy but told me to leave as is so I don't "sully the purity of artistic expression". Totes.

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

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

Music may involve profanity and adult topics, short description of character's interactions with music, smut. All playlists will attempt to utilize music or groups that Pedro Pascal has referenced at some point. Get your headphones and enjoy!

Dieter's Deets (Spotify)

*Dieter always paints with his playlist blaring loudly. He says it summons his mind muses. *Obviously, Dieter can make love in just about any situation imaginable (insert here). He once had a passionate love affair with Cirque de Soleil. In any case, if music is not in the background, Dieter has been known to start singing mid sexcapade. Not well. But with…enthusiasm. *Dieter is a pretty sensitive guy, and has learned through trial and error that music and drugs are a poor combination. Depending on his vice of choice, Dieter can be found enacting the lyrics of his favorite pieces, which was particularly detrimental during his Doja Cat era… *Dieter is not allowed to attend Broadway musicals anymore. He would often go to see friends in aforementioned productions like “The Color Purple” but would start singing along at any opportunity, and was kicked out…several times. *After the nebulous success of “Cliff Beasts 6” Dieter has found new success with his TikTok account. Run by J, his PA, Dieter has posted several tutorials of his well known dance moves, which can also be seen in movie theaters around the world. *Dieter has informed J that he is only allowed to listen to the song “Pedro” by Omar Apollo five times a day, so he doesn’t become too dehydrated from sobbing hysterically. *Dieter has been using his playlist to explore components of his “Divine Feminine and Divine Masculine”. He can either be found in a pink, silk mumu dancing to “Tomboy” by Princess Nokia, or mostly naked in a tool belt and construction hat dancing to “I’m Still Standing” by Elton John. *As is widely known on social media, Dieter got his tentative start in a short, European adult film before transitioning into more cinematic masterpieces. What isn’t widely known is that he was cast not only because of his sexual fluidity, but also because of his monologue. After Dieter performed a dramatic version of “Let’s Talk About Sex”, he was hired on the spot. He was also sleeping with the creative team, but that is inconsequential… *Dieter once auditioned for a musical (before he was permanently banned from Broadway) for the role of the Piglet in the highly anticipated horror flick “Winnie the Pooh and the Hundred Acre WOOD”. After singing his audition cut, the director said Dieter was far too scary. Dieter concurred. *As you know, Dieter launched a controversial digital yoga program after his filming experiences in “Cliff Beasts 6”. His signature moves promise flexibility, increased libido and alleviation of lower back pain, but share little with common, legitimate yoga practices. Exercises are recommended with this playlist and are creatively termed by Dieter as: The Studmuffin, Fuck Position, and Fluttering Vulva.

*thanks @animatedglittergraphics-n-more for the cool dividers!

Pedge Tweets Afterglow

I love the throw down as much as the next gal, but I love the "Afterglow" even more. Excited to attempt this sexy time experimentation, writing for some of the Pedro Boys with variety in shorter snippets. Wanted a therapeutic outlet for our great and not so great "O"'s. Mostly self-indulgent intimacy writing, though Pedge is VERY excited...

Series Masterlist

*art by Vivek Gupta + Klimt

Pedge's Bookshop The Patrol

Grab a Latte! lounge around in the foyer with this sweet series, "A Girl Walks Into a Bookshop" by @oonajaeadira before heading into the store!

Triggers: profanity, Last of Us canon + references, MAJOR spoilers for "Crime and Punishment", alcohol, lots of talking, ambush, gunfight, nightmare, descriptions of death/loss, injury, blood..

Series Masterlist

Words: 3k

Joel listened to the steady thrumming clip-clop of the mare’s hooves, watching his breath perspire and evaporate in the cold wintry air. Truthfully, his mind wasn’t on the approaching task of securing the spring resources for the Jackson commune, or divining the nebulous intentions of the visiting posse on their tentative, circumstantial union. 

He was thinking about you.

The smell of your hair in the morning as it cascaded around him like fluttering wings. The soft, open part of your lips as you slept soundly in his bed. The crinkle of your nose as you awoke in the approaching day. And he wondered if the soft hums you made in your sleep in any way would mirror the sounds you would make otherwise. He shifted his body, suddenly contrastingly hot against the morning air. Breathing deeply, he refocused his eyes on the surrounding nature before him. Tommy rode several paces ahead and the group had already made good time on the second of their three day journey. The trip had been relatively uneventful, as they ventured to meet the tradesman at Elk Creek

The only wild card was Levi.

Joel’s body stiffened at the mere thought of Levi’s presence and his suspiciously friendly demeanor on this forced expedition. It was quite bad enough that Levi had unceremoniously revealed your previous employ as an escort. Joel did not judge, having made some nebulous choices in the name of survival. But Levi’s insidious and stubborn attempts to ingratiate himself, not only to the Jackson commune but to the Miller Family in general, set Joel’s teeth on edge. As though telepathically summoned, Joel heard the telltale percussivity of Levi’s aggressive galloped approach.

“Man of few words” Levi quipped, slowing his steed’s gait and sidling up alongside Joel’s unwilling stature.

“Let’s keep it that way” Joel retorted, gripping the leather a bit tighter and unsuccessfully attempting to rein in his own hostility.

“Can’t ignore me forever, Joel” Levi countered, spitting needlessly to the side and sucking his teeth with annoyance. 

“Watch me” Joel muttered under his breath, just loud enough for Levi to hear and chuckle at sardonically.

“I like you Joel. You remind me of myself” Levi laughed as Joel gritted his teeth violently, swallowing hard. He would NOT be baited. “You might not like it, but I knew our girl way before you did. I know her in a way that you never will”. Levi’s words stung unexpectedly, as Joel was forced to consider the mutual anonymity that so many post-apocalyptic relationships were forced to endure. 

“I know her” Joel countered, craning his neck slowly and meeting Levi’s gaze. “And more importantly, she knows me. I’m someone she can trust, and that’s something you never were and will never be”. Joel returned to his stoic disposition as Levi paused appraisingly, regarding him with a look that bordered on admiration.

“You’ve got convictions is all” Levi reasoned, nodding his head curtly. “Something I never could afford” he rationalized, shrugging his shoulders with nonchalance. “Man’s gotta believe in something” he offered, almost as an afterthought. Joel quietly wondered if that were true. He thought on some of his own “convictions” and whether they were admirable or not. He refused to be drawn into a moralistic conversation with a man like Levi. What could possibly be gained? All that remained was to tolerate his presence, get the supplies, and get the hell back to the Jackson Commune, content in your arms once more. He didn’t know how he was going to incorporate Levi into this plan, but he didn’t have to. You were his future. You and Ellie, and THAT was all that mattered.

“Can’t say I’ve got many beliefs myself” Levi droned on, seemingly bored with his own conversation. “The only moment truly yours in the one in front of you, so I take advantage of every opportunity” Levi reached into a side pocket, removing a flask and taking a swig before offering it to Joel.

Idiot. Joel rolled his eyes skeptically before adding Levi’s shortcomings to the long list he had already assembled.

“More for me” Levi joked, taking another sip and pocketing the flask once again. “Can’t say I ever met a vice I didn’t like. What about you? You enjoying your time with the Teach?”.

Joel’s breath hitched in his throat abruptly, as he caught Tommy’s skeptical gaze from several paces ahead. This was no time for an altercation, but he nearly crawled out of his skin at the mention of you from someone so vile. 

“Don’t mean anything by it, just noticing. Teach bailed me out more than a few times when I thought I was SOL. She’s real dependable like that. It’s good you have each other”.

The contrast of Levi’s final statement sat in stark opposition to the rest of his potential diatribe. Joel inadvertently furrowed his brow with consternation. Was Levi trying to make nice? Was this yet another facade of friendliness, or ulterior motives? Or was Levi simply observing things as they were? Perhaps even as he wished them to be…Joel immediately felt his rancor flare up with a protective spirit.

“If you even think of touchin’ her…” he threatened, pulling up on the reins forebodingly. Levi followed suit, pausing slightly and allowing the group to cautiously move past. He felt the eyes of Tommy boring into him from several paces ahead, who had also stopped and was turning his horse towards them.

“Wouldn’t dream of it” Levi stated matter-a-factly, his face a staunch pallor of apathy. “Care more about my own self interest. Just sayin’ is all”. Joel started cantering again, only more perplexed than ever. Tommy turned back to the trail with trepidation, keeping an eye on the tenuous conversation. 

What was Levi’s game?

“Just see that you make yourself useful” Joel admonished. “There isn’t a world where you and I are friends. But, take it from me; any man so fixed that he can’t see beyond himself, may as well be alone.”

Levi finally settled into a quiet resolution, as though seeing Joel for the first time. “Get busy livin’ or get busy dyin’…” Levi acquiesced, gazing fixedly at the horizon and moving ahead of Joel to join the rest of the group. Tommy took the opportunity to hesitantly double back next to Joel before questioning.

“What the hell was that all about?” Tommy cautioned, keeping his voice low and secretive.

“Don’t rightly know” Joel confessed, narrowing his eyes in skepticism at Levi’s receding figure. “Just know we can’t trust him. He’s more harm than good”.

“I’m surprised you didn’t deck him again” Tommy admitted, clicking his tongue encouragingly to his own steed. “I know I can’t trust HIM, but can I trust you?”.

Joel whipped his head around with surprise looking into Tommy’s doubtful expression. “What the hell does that mean?” Joel raised his voice before noticing some passing glances from the rest of the posse. “What the hell you on about?” he gritted his teeth conspiratorially, in a hissed whisper.

“Come on Joel, you’re a loose canon, always have been” Tommy kept his voice low and without threat, but there was an edge of candor that only a brother could inflict. Joel swallowed hard, begrudgingly admitting to himself the truth of Tommy’s words.

“You should talk” he grumbled, increasing his speed as Tommy hastened to catch up.

“You listen to me, Joel because I’m only going to say this once. You’re my brother and I love you, but there’s more at stake here than just you or me. I’ve got a family to protect and a commune to lead, and if Levi gets me one step closer to that goal, I’m willing to do whatever it takes” Tommy paused, hesitant to say more. Joel bit his lower lip, reflecting back on his own choices and the lengths a man will go to secure the future that he wants and protect the people he loves.

“S’not like family, Tommy” Joel growled. “You’ve always been an optimist, I’m just sayin’ you can’t trust someone just because they’re strong”.

“Will you give me a little credit, Joel?” Tommy unexpectedly lashed out, lowering his voice once again to avoid too much attention. “I’m not the little brother you left all those years ago” he accused huffily. “You take care of your family the way you see fit, and I’ll take care of mine”.

Joel swallowed the taste of bile, as memory after memory cascaded unbidden into his periphery. Holding Sarah as a baby, flashing on her small form cradled in his arms as she breathed her last. Coming upon Ellie, speckled with blood and terror. The feel of a gun housed securely against his shoulder blade. The smell of iron and gunpowder pervading his senses. He felt his chest lurch forward violently, attempting to stave off another panic attack, as your face floated serenely before his eyes; holding you passionately in the flurries of snow. The smell of dried flowers and bramble berry wine. The tears sprung to his eyes as he quickly took in Tommy’s guilty countenance.

“YOU are my family Tommy” Joel gravely whispered, feeling Tommy’s intense gaze at his shoulder.  “You and Maria…Ellie…and Teach…if she’ll have me” his voice trailed off timidly, not trusting himself to proceed further. Joel didn’t know much, but he had lived lifetimes of forced apathy, violently displacing himself from the power of his own emotion, and the people he loved had always paid the price. Now that he had a second shot at anything close to love, he was hanging on to it with both hands, even at the risk of strangling it. Somehow, he had to keep holding on, whilst simultaneously learning to let go.

“I don’t know what I’m saying” Tommy backpedaled, drawing his hand to the back of his neck with chagrin. “Sometimes I feel crazy, like Maria and the baby…it’s all slipping right through my fingers” he chuckled sheepishly, receiving a nod of encouragement from Joel immediately. 

“Maybe we’re more alike than I thought” Joel joked, reaching out to playfully punch Tommy in the gut. He felt the watchful gaze of Levi from afar, but didn’t pay it any mind. He couldn’t control the future. Hell, he couldn’t even predict the future. The only thing he could control was himself, and even that he wasn’t so sure about. He would have to keep relying on his instincts and let life do the rest. All he needed to do was get home to you. 

Home.

The group continued to make good time until they set up camp near the rendezvous point. Elk Creek had always been a great resource for trade and bartering, and Tommy was intent on getting an early start on the Spring gathering. They managed to find a cave that was interconnected with a quarry, setting up the first watch before settling in for the night. It was a large group of about 25 men, so they decided to risk a few campfires. In the seven years of the commune’s existence the Elk Creek Run had never proven to be dangerous until the recent events that necessitated the support of Levi and his disheveled band of journeymen. Wary of future altercations they decided to go on the offensive. Perhaps renegades would be hesitant to attack seeing a small militia of this fortitude.

Levi sat alone, his back against the rock, shadows eerily dancing and silhouetted against the quieting campsite. Hunched over protectively, he observed the friendly banter between men, casting a jealous glance towards Joel and his brother Tommy as they laughed by the fire. What made them so different from him? Why were their desires so much more noble than his? Levi knew desperation when he saw it, and survival in the apocalypse had only heightened the corruption and self-interest that already existed. It was just as well he was already well-versed in the art of self-protection. He’d always survived by his wits; card-shark, con-man, go-between. Any opportunity observed was an opportunity seized upon, and it didn’t matter who he had to manipulate, so long as Levi ended up on top. He hunched down further, bracing himself against the stolid rock face. Truth be told, the freedom of this ongoing anarchic existence provided Levi with a strange dichotomy of liberation and oppression. He was loathe to admit it, but it turned out that even hyper-independence had its own special distinction of isolation. Even tentatively joining the commune and engineering a shaky reunion with you had proven ineffective. Eventually, that same self-salvation seemed to destructively twist in on itself. Levi had long since passed the point of no return regarding his own apathy, but a spark of bitterness pulled at whatever heart strings remained, particularly when he looked at Joel Miller. 

They were the same. Weren’t they?

He gazed down at a small spider stretching itself across the gritty soil, unperturbed by the nearby flickering flames. Levi shivered slightly, repulsed by its alien exoskeleton. He leveled a heavy boot on top of its delicate filaments, his eyes shifting to another moving target to his right. An undulating centipede was crawling its way towards his arm, before Levi grabbed a large rock, hefting it sloppily forward. Looking over at his foot, a myriad of spiders suddenly cascaded from the original, pouring forth like an overwhelming quicksand of darkness. He hardly had time to register a horrified expression before feather-light touches of legs tickled his neck and shoulders from behind, spiders crawling like enigmatic tendrils as he stood shakily to his feet. Right before uttering a scream to high heaven Levi…

…jerked his head upwards from an unexpected stupor, breathing heavily, his heart pounding relentlessly in his chest. The camp had stilled even more, though gazing several feet ahead, he saw Joel clutching his firearm fixedly, staring at Levi’s halting expression. Levi clenched his jaw with discomfort, scrambling for his flask of whiskey and downing the dregs in one terrified gulp.  Just a nightmare. Inwardly he scowled, abhorrent to admit his temporary lapse. Settling back in  for the night, he skulked forebodingly in the corner, reflecting on his future options. Maybe he could get Maria on his side. She was a shrewd leader, but similarly found herself with her back against the wall. It wouldn’t be possible to pull the wool over Joel’s eyes, but maybe Tommy was in Maria’s pocket. Nor would Ellie be dissuaded, and the Teach…Levi flashed on your angelic visage, his jaw pulsing with resentment. He felt certain that your shared background would ingratiate him and alienate you, but such was not the case. Somehow you had already managed to sway the commune to your side, and Levi was impressed. Reflecting on your smiling face, he caught the smallest micro expression of violence seeping into your countenance. As though temporarily vindicated, the expression expanded into one of sheer maniacal terror a broad, gaping grin splitting your mouth into an appalling void. A quiet, looming scream seemed to emanate from beyond his body. Was it your voice? Was it his? His body felt immobilized in quicksand as he struggled to escape his sleep paralysis. It wasn’t until a bullet grazed the rock face behind him that Levi sprung into an adrenaline fueled aggression. 

“Move!” Joel’s voice split the darkness, as Levi took in the chaotic, fire-lit reality that mirrored the nightmarish hell his mind had just escaped. Men were screaming and yelling as they ran purposelessly around the campsite, looking for shelter or solace of any kind. Levi’s head whipped around to the tell-tale shriek of an infected, grabbing at the gun in his holster and running towards the small remaining group of men, hunkered down in a small rock protected abutment that were motioning him in. Sliding into place with a dusty fury, Levi quickly clocked around 50 infected pouring out of the quarry, as though mimicking the spiders in his recent nightmare.

“Jesus Christ” Tommy muttered, reloading and looking around the disintegrating campsite. “Where the hell are your men going, Levi?” he all but screamed, watching several picked off by the nearby infected. Levi’s heart twisted violently in his chest. Everything was falling apart, and there was nothing that he could about it. The men wouldn’t follow his lead, they were as self-motivated as he was. The men of Jackson Commune were a stolid and well-led bunch, but they were about to find themselves significantly outnumbered if something wasn’t done. Joel shoved his way to the front of the group, picking off five infected in quick succession, and reloading his firearm as well. 

“What are you gonna do about it, Levi!” Joel bellowed, looking helplessly at Tommy and shoving Levi to the side. Levi closed his eyes tiredly feeling the knot tighten in his chest poisonously. 

“Get busy livin’ or get busy dyin’” he droned, a dry smile passing over his lips as Joel looked on incredulously. “Tell Teach that she owes me one…” he quipped, holding his firearm lovingly and taking a deep breath before barreling forward suicidally.

“Son of a bitch” Joel muttered, trying to provide cover for Levi’s ill fated martyrdom but quickly realizing its futility. Levi managed to take down another 5 infected before vanishing in a dusty clump of writhing bodies and blood curdling screams. Tommy leveled another 3 infected from where he stood, as Joel reloaded as quickly as possible.

“Get DOWN Tommy!” Joel yelled, rising to his feet and shoving Tommy into the dirt before a searing knife-like explosion bloomed across his abdomen painfully. Tommy’s eyes widened in distress, viewing the steadily blossoming pool of blood flower across Joel’s stomach as he crumpled to the ground in anguish. Joel gritted his teeth stubbornly, his firearm clattering helplessly to the dirt, a flurry of hands and concerned voices darkening around him. He was thankful for the twisting exhaustion that deadened his entire body as he focused on your image with each labored breath. 

Home. Home.

It would only be a matter of time before he saw you again, whether in this life or the next. His mouth tiredly curled into a smile before darkness finally took him. 

Home. Home. Home.

@morallyinept @littlemisspascal @wannabe-urs

@beefrobeefcal @sawymredfox 

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

@schnarfer @devineconjuring @mermaidgirl30 @mandolover37 @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog 

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

@copperhalfcent @bluesweaters15 @drewharrisonwriter @darkheartgatita

@harriedandharassed @brittmb115 @confusedpuffin @zaniasky @quicax3

Pedge Pose

Thank you @auteurdelabre for our beautiful coloring book, Volume Two! I love this man's sense of fashion, art and love. Included some snippets from this family interview. Always appreciative of the transparency...

"I come from the perspective that no one can decide how somone else should live their life. I think that a person has the right to live his life conservatively or wildly as long as he does not negatively impact anyone or tried to embarrass others by his lifestyle. I don't touch these issues very much, for fear of hearing their perspective. But what I do know is that if I ever needed help I could ask, and I would get it. It was a very scary period. I grew up with my family, and from one day to the next there was no home to return to. Suddenly the idea of the safe nest was gone. It was shocking because in previous years I took for granted the privileged life we had..."

WIP Poll

All right, I think I need a little Tumblr assistance! I've run away with myself regarding Mood Boards but have a number of WIPS on the horizon. Maybe if I get a digital nudge it will push me in the right direction. I'm ALL over the place...

Check us out!

Roll-a-Trope Snowed In Challenge New York, New York Series (RPF)

Pedge's Cinema The Trailer

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

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

Words: 2.6k

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

Guess you didn’t need Google Translate after all.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

PADDINGTON 2.

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

Bellisima.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This might be the beginning of a beautiful friendship….

*Thanks @dornish-queen for the cool footage!

@littlemisspascal @wannabe-urs

@beefrobeefcal @sawymredfox @anelva

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

@schnarfer @devineconjuring @mermaidgirl30 @mandolover37 @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog 

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

@copperhalfcent @bluesweaters15 @drewharrisonwriter @darkheartgatita

@harriedandharassed @brittmb115 @confusedpuffin @zaniasky @quicax3