Moody Met

Pedro, Painter, Poet

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

Pedro At the Beach

Refugee Day

Pride

Pedge Paints

Make Your Own Kind of Music

Happy Birthday to Me!

Purple Rain

Bi-Visibility Week

Pedro-Tober!

Trick or Treat

Pirate Pedge Poetry

Ode to Gratitude; Marcus Moreno

Pedro Stories Secret Santa

Pedge Bookshop Art

Crime + Punishment

Fantastic Four

The Oberyn Days

Javi's Afterglow

Pike's Picture

Friendly Frankie

Pena's Pose

Dostoyevsky + the Slutty Knee

Dostyevsky + The Dream

All About Eve

April Showers Prompt

Disability Visibility

Clint's Freaky Tales

Fink's Phrases

The Last of Us

Mister Fantastic

Pedge Pose

What Happened to Belen?

Through the Valley

Belen

Hold You Me

Mustafa's New Anthology

God Said No

Baby Pedge

Laker's Shirt

Critic's Choice

The Uninvited

Cannes (Eddington)

WIP; In Cold Blood

Pedge Tweets!

Thanks @inept-the-magnificent for the tag, I've been wanting to do some Instagram worthy characters for a while! I might occasionally incorporate real tweets or photos, but it's mostly just me....and Pedge...

PedgeIsPunk PikesPlace MyDarlingMuse AfterglowSeries PedgesBookshop PedgesJukebox NewYorkNewYork PinkiePiePedge PedgesCinema

Here's the template to try yourself!

Sexiest Man Alive

Alright, don't everybody get your panties in a bunch, it's not real, it's not real…But, now that some time has passed we KNOW Pedro Pascal IS the sexiest man alive, if such a thing is quantifiable. Did you know since its origin in 1985, there have only been FIVE men of color selected for this enigmatic honor? I think Pedro Pascal won the vote, but declined in favor of personal privacy, and I'm not the only one...

Final Family Dinner!

This has been a glorious Thanksgiving Season, punctuated by "The Uninvited", "Gladiator 2" and PEDRO PASCAL! We have MUCH to be grateful for! Enjoy your snacks for our final Pedro's Holiday Feast, and don't forget to drop by our past dinners if you want seconds! Smut abounds, so minors, stay at the kids table please....

Appetizer

@dornish-queen has done it again!

Entree

"Thanksgiving Delights" @pedges-world

Charcuterie Board

"Pedro Lisa and the Turkey" @dornish-queen

Dessert

"Peach and Apple Pie" @pedges-world

Amuse Bouche

@pedges-world

Thanks to everyone who participated this season! I hope, whatever you are doing for the holidays, it involves as much gratitude and smut as possible. Pedge loves you! And so do I :)

*thanks @bernardsbendystraws for the cool dividers!

Pedge's Bookshop The Epilogue

Grab a Latte! lounge around in the foyer with this RPF fic "Between the Pages and Us" by @andy-15-07 before heading into The Bookshop!

Triggers: profanity, Last of Us canon + references, PTSD/anxiety attack,/nightmare, MAJOR spoilers for "Crime and Punishment", foreshadowing for LOU Season 2, pregnancy, not really smut but a lot of romance...Gosh, I didn't want this series to end, I think I was stalling a little...(series completion)

Series Masterlist

Words: 6k

Somehow you felt you had finally arrived. A lifetime of running, and you still had no earthly idea where you were going. But the events of the last few months had coalesced into a contentment that felt unbridled and dreamlike. You felt an odd pang of regret, recognizing the circumstances that had to occur to arrive at such a conclusion. But you almost didn’t care. Almost.

The often stoically minded Joel had softened himself for your benefit during this season of healing, and didn’t seem altogether bothered by the metamorphosis, however temporary it might be. He jokingly demanded all of his meals were spent in bed, so he could enjoy the luxury of having your supple body nestled beside him. A tenuous rapport had resumed with Ellie, particularly as she entertained a flirtation with a fellow commune resident named Dina. Under Joel’s feigned aloof tutelage, she endeavored to invite Dina to an upcoming dance to celebrate the Spring Harvest. But since her confession at the hospital, an unspoken apprehension had permeated the Miller household. It was as though the secret itself had tendrils of infection, moving into the nooks and crannies of an otherwise happy existence, and you found yourself wondering when the emotional dam might break.

There were so many aspects of life that were tenuous and fragile, and life could change at the flick of a switch. Sometimes, nearing the end of reading “Crime and Punishment” Joel’s baritone voice would trail off absentmindedly, as he read to you in bed. At first, you thought he had fallen asleep, but often discovered him starting darkly into the corners of the room, haunted by phantasms of the past you could never entirely understand. It often seemed that Joel was in an emotional prison of his own making, and his main solace in existence was the ever-present, anchoring support of his once again found family.

The both of you were still often plagued by nightmares, as you gathered bits and pieces of a life no longer lived. Joel’s stray, delirious comments about the horrors of the hospital, or impassioned plea to keep Sarah safe. Some of your nightmares were just as enigmatic; wrestling with Levi in a pit of snakes or running from infected that hounded you till you awoke in frightened disorientation. And Joel was always there. Grasping at your hands that were grabbing for purchase, shushing and pleading to remind you that you were safe. Somehow, his eyes would always find you in the dark, softly coaxing you back to the light. And you would hold one another, swaying from side to side or humming quiet melodies until the dawn arose. 

One recent commune expedition had brought back a guitar, and you were shocked to discover that Joel was a humble musical aficionado. It took quite a bit of convincing, but he had even started playing simple choruses, particularly at night when the stress of the day seemed to catch up with the entire family. Even Ellie seemed impressed as she took up the mantle of reading aloud, as you knitted in the living room. Though often besieged by Rascal the Cat and introspectively serenaded by Joel, it kept the nightmares at bay, with the dream-like quality of something from a book. And there wasn’t a moment you wanted to take for granted.

As the healing process continued there was thankfully a lot of work to be done. The Bookshop was nearing its final reveal, and as Joel’s health continued to improve, Maria was nearing her due date. Joel and Ellie had begun to take small trips to the Bookshop in preparation, and you had all but moved into the Miller residence full time. It was ridiculous to cite nursing duties, as returned to your teaching obligations full time. But the easy rapport and comradry you felt, not only with Joel, but with Ellie had started to wear away your well-developed armor. It was a new life. And part of you had to guiltily acknowledge Levi’s demise as a stepping stone to that contentment.

You didn’t know what to make of Levi’s final actions. It wasn’t a feeling of gratitude, but a sort of begrudging awareness that every journey has a price. Whether selling yourself to the highest bidder, or exacting emotional interest on a debt that required payment, there would always be a punishment for the crime. More and more, you wondered if that debt was housed in humanity or Divinity. Dostoyevsky seemed to have an understanding, but it seemed beyond your own machinations. All you knew was that you were currently reaping the benefits of a life well-lived, and whatever suffering the future held, you would encounter it; together. Levi was a distant part of your past that had reared its ugly head, and despite the current existential respite, a certain foreboding crept on the horizon. You just hoped you could be unafraid and meet it head on.

And so the days turned into weeks, and things began to resume a certain post-apocalyptic normalcy. School resumed, the spring harvest was well underway and the Bookshop was slated to officially open to the rest of the commune in a matter of weeks. In the interim, Tommy had successfully traded for more resources at Elk Creek and Joel was looking sturdier on his feet, even adding a beautiful mahogany coffee table to the cozy bookshop atmosphere. It wasn’t until Ellie came home one day after school that the darkening clouds of confrontation began to assemble.

“We’re havin’ a dinner” she began, under Joel’s watchful stare.

“What’dya mean ‘we’re havin’ a dinner’?” he parroted with suspicion, as you quietly prepared food in the background.

“I mean, Maria and Tommy came by The Bookshop while you were out and invited themselves over for dinner sometime” Ellie bluntly stated, shifting awkwardly. Joel cleared his throat authoritatively, mirroring her discomfort.  

“What for?” Joel questioned, his eyes narrowing skeptically.

“They said it was just to catch up on commune responsibilities, and see how you were doing. But you know how Maria is” Ellie observed. You felt the bristle of tension move through the kitchen as you stirred the evening stew.

“Maybe…you could invite Dina?” you offered, trying to lighten the mood before Joel and Ellie both vociferously objected.

“No (just) way (family)” their voices clashed aggressively as your eyebrows shot up with surprise. The kitchen deadened to an uncomfortable silence.

“I…kind of expected them to come by…sooner…” you trailed off, hesitant to voice everyone’s concern. Tommy’s presence in the hospital had been unrelenting, and you didn’t doubt their current intentions for a millisecond. But Maria was besieged with plans for the upcoming delivery and commune responsibilities. And Ellie’s confession…

“Just say it” Ellie proffered bitterly. “It’s my fault”.

“Absolutely (FIDDLESTICKS!) not” this time you and Joel cascaded in a heap of protestations. The silence awkwardly returned.

“Fiddlesticks?” Ellie coyly smirked, tilting her head towards Joel jokingly. You heaved a sigh of relief, chuckling under your breath.

“I TOLD you to tell ‘em” Joel encouraged, nodding his head defiantly. “Didn’t say it was gonna be easy though”. The pots of food bubbled precariously on the stove, much like the pressurized conversation. “Alright, tell ‘em to come over tomorrow night” Joel said definitively glancing in your direction.

“No bramble berry wine this time” you wisely observed, returning to your dinner tasks. This reunion was long overdue, and there was nothing to fear. Just time with family. Your newfound family. Nothing to worry about. But as you and Joel plated the prepared dinner, you couldn’t help but wonder; what newfound challenges were the three of you headed into this time?

Joel hugged you against his side tightly, nestled comfortably in the darkened bedroom. Ellie had already gone to sleep upstairs, and with your leg hung loosely over Joel’s legs you sighed contentedly as his mellifluous voice lulled you into a pleasant drowsiness.

“And yet he was ashamed, even before Sonia, whom he tortured because of it with his contemptuous brought manner. His pride had been stung to the quick. It was wounded pride that made him ill. Oh how happy he would have been if he could’ve blamed himself. He could have borne anything the, even shame and disgrace. But he judged himself severely. Vague and objectless anxiety in the present, and in the future a continual sacrifice leading to nothing—that was all the play before him. What had he to live for? What had he to look forward to? Why should he strive? To live in order to exist? Why? He had been ready a thousand times before to give up existence for the sake of an idea, for hope, even for a fancy. Perhaps it was just because of the strength of his desires that he had thought himself a man to whom more was permissible than to others. He suffered too from the question; why had he not killed himself? Was the desire to live so strong and was it so hard to overcome it? In misery he asked himself this question and could not understand. He didn’t understand that consciousness might be the promise of a future crisis, of a new view of life and of his future resurrection.”

Joel paused to remove his reading glasses and scratched at a small scar you had noticed, situated just to the side of his face. You delicately reached up to stroke it, but his head jerked away as his hand swatted your attentions to the side. It was uncharacteristically curt of him, and your body crumpled aside him with embarrassment. He turned to look at you apologetically, his lips tightening to a narrow line of reticence.

“I’m fine. Don’t need your nursin’ anymore…” he attempted to explain, but the words only seemed to seep into your skin with a heavy poison. You drew your body away from him in confusion as he dropped the book to bring you back to his side. “Wait. I didn’t mean that” he whispered, dipping his head to the crook of your neck, his beard bristling at the tender skin of your decoupage. You giggled quietly, pleased that the misunderstanding was short-lived. There were still many unseen scars that might never completely heal, but you were thankful to be with a man like Joel who didn’t shy away from the ones you also possessed. You didn’t have long to think about it, as Joel’s lips dragged achingly slowly across your neck and nibbled at your jawline. “Enjoyin’ the final chapter of ‘Crime and Punishment’” he teased, mumbling into your breastbone, as his hands found their way to your backside, squeezing gently.

“Oh absolutely…” you drawled, gripping him tightly against you and drawing your fingers across his back seductively. “It’s so visceral, I don’t remember the epilogue being so alluring when I read it in college” you joked, feeling Joel’s body titter with laughter against you. 

“Must be the company” he smiled, looking lovingly into your eyes. You reached up to stroke his face sweetly.

“What are we gonna do about the dinner?” you sighed, the sudden intake of air signifying his trepidation as much as your own.

“Don’t know” Joel bluntly stated, leaning back on his side of the bed and looking up at the ceiling. He took your hand, interlacing your fingers with his own as you both lay still in the quiet bedroom. “Maria doesn’t know….everything” he began, the bed creaking awkwardly under his shifting weight. “Nobody really does”. You held your breath tentatively, as though waiting for permission. There had been so many indicators of a tension unresolved; a type of secret that was infecting even the healthiest of relationships and desires.

“Something at the hospital?” you whispered, longing to press Joel further, but hesitant to force the matter. Joel’s head shifted quickly in your direction, as though telepathically imploring you to clairvoyantly understand. The moments passed laboriously slow, as an old wooden clock ticked loudly in the corner. You drew Joel’s hand to your heart, breathing quietly as you looked into his eyes. “You saved her” you recounted from Joel’s previous delirium, his eyes closing abruptly in remembrance. A pained look crossed his features as you waited patiently.

“That day…in the hospital….with the Fireflies…” Joel began, as though dragging the words through the mud with every suffering syllable. “We lost so much on the journey to bring her back…” he observed, thinking about Tess, and Sam and so many others on their meandering sojourn. “Ellie wanted her immunity…to help others. To save us all….” Joel opened his eyes once again, a newfound tear cascading down the side of his face as he turned to meet your gaze. “But if I had known I was deliverin’ her to death’s door, I never woulda stopped runnin’” he confessed, gripping your hand tenaciously in his own.

“But the raiders, they attacked you. You saved her. Even if she’s immune, there are others. Let others worry about it…” you remembered from Ellie’s description at Joel’s bedside. What part of the story were you missing? Your voice hung questioningly in the silence as Joel swallowed dryly under the heat of your stare.

“What if I told you….” he paused, shuddering slightly on the next inhale “…there weren’t no raiders at the hospital that day?”. You blinked confusedly, eyeing him with skepticism.  Joel sighed heavily, as though battling a silent war within himself. The clock’s ticking thudded in dull, oppressive strokes as you watched his shoulders tighten in immeasurable tension. He brought his hand tiredly over his face, rubbing at his temples and scowling with indecision. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. He looked like he was going to be sick, and you wondered if his wound had in fact healed properly, or if he were nursing another fever. He drew in a shaky breath to steady himself before muttering, “Can’t keep this secret anymore….s’gonna kill me. Or kill Ellie in the process…” his voice cracked, steeling himself for the long overdue confession.

“The Fireflies nearly killed her at the hospital that day” he whispered raspily, shaking his head from side to side. “Wasn’t gonna let nobody hurt my girl…not again” he said, almost to himself, as you tried to grapple with this new information. You bit your lip in consternation, trying to assemble the details as Joel laid them out.

“They tried to….extract her immunity, and apparently her life was a small price to pay for it” he pleaded with you finally, wringing your hand between his own in supplication. Your eyes widened with awareness as the pieces of the puzzle began to fall into place. “So I killed ‘em. I killed them all”. You mouth fell open in surprise, finally processing Joel’s many enigmatic reactions over the last several months. He was a murderer. You were in love with a murderer. 

Joel seemed to sense your growing apprehension as he pulled back slightly in self-revulsion. “There aren’t no others. It’s just her that’s immune. And Ellie doesn’t know”. Your breath seemed to stop with trepidation, as he nearly collapsed back against the headboard with exhaustion. A myriad of thoughts were pummeling you into disorientation, but Joel was the anchor holding you in place. You gripped his hand more tightly, cupping his face with your other palm, watching his lips tremble apologetically. “Wouldn’t change a damn thing” he muttered over and over again, as you flung yourself into his arms. No one could know. For Joel’s sake. For Ellie’s sake. For your own. The only possible redemption resided in this secret confession, but that’s as far as it could be allowed. The only other thing that remained was to suffer in silence. And so that’s what you did. For the rest of the night, you held one another in the silence of that horrible realization. Ellie was immune. And she was alone. But there wasn’t a damn thing that could be done about it.

The next morning passed wordlessly as the Miller household was submerged in a state of tension. Ellie was appropriately worried about the upcoming dinner, but you and Joel held the suspension of disbelief, knowing the additional gravity of the situation. Maria was a bloodhound when it came to the truth, territorially motivated by the continued survival of the commune, and viscerally impassioned with the upcoming birth of her child. After Ellie’s hospital confession, the five of you held a special connection that seemingly surpassed that of bloodlines and family, but would that information be enough to leave things as they were? You spent the day, avoiding Ellie’s stare in class, and rushing home to prepare the simple dinner. 

Before you knew it, dusk was upon you as you observed Tommy and Maria slowly making their way across the blossoming field, leading up the Miller household. You felt your stomach anxiously lurch, suddenly wishing that you and Joel had discussed a plan of action. But for better or worse, the conversation was now imminent as Tommy and Maria approached the landing. Ellie looked like she was standing in front of a firing squad, pressing her plaid shirt staunchly against her rigid body. Joel make quick eye contact with you, as he crossed the living room and opened the door to their overt smiles.

“Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?” Tommy immediately intoned, bursting through the door and embracing his brother strongly. Joel winced, ever so slightly, his abdominal wound mostly healed, but the surrounding muscles tender and sensitive. Maria patted her stomach empathically, rounding the corner and immediately catching Ellie in a somewhat stilted, but well-intentioned embrace. “I’m starving!” Maria enthusiastically exclaimed, though you secretly wondered if there were an ulterior agenda to the evening’s discussion. You finished setting the table, and enjoyed a round of placated small talk; recent trade at Elk Creek, the upcoming Spring Harvest Dance, preparation for Maria’s upcoming delivery. The banter began to die down as the conversation turned to more pressing matters.

“Joel, how have you been feeling this last month?” Maria began, innocently enough, but the shift in the mood was apparent.

“I hate to say it, but my resident nurse has proven real helpful…” Joel smiled, a tinge of distrust flickering across his eyes that only you were privy to, as he took your hand with encouragement. “I’ll be ready for patrols, as soon as you give the word” he offered, nodding succinctly, hoping to end the conversation there.

“About time to get your sorry ass back out in the field” Tommy joked, attempting to lighten the mood. “Try not to get killed this time” he teased, kicking his brother’s foot good-naturedly under the dinner table.

“And what about you, Ellie?” Maria’s voice gained a syrupy sweetness that immediately brought Levi to mind. What was her intent? “How have you been feeling since our….discussion at the hospital?” Joel’s hand immediately stiffened in yours, his head whipping over to Ellie watchfully.

“I’m ready for patrols too!” Ellie chirped, gripping the table energetically. “Joel can tell you, I’m real capable with a knife, or a gun…” she beamed, as Joel bit back a protective reprimand.

“Oh no, I think you’re far too valuable to risk out on patrol” Maria ventured, under Tommy’s imploring gaze. “It’s not every day you meet someone with immunity” she tried to observe matter-a-factly before Joel slammed his fist in to the dinner table abruptly.

“Goddamit Maria, now you know that’s not up for discussion!” Joel spat, his body becoming a taut representation of feral rage. Maria gripped her swollen belly protectively as Tommy shifted in his seat with embarrassment. 

“It’s just family, Joel” Tommy quietly intoned, nodding in your direction. “Right, Teach? Just hear her out for a sec’” he pleaded, drawing a hand to Maria’s back affectionately as Joel attempted to calm down. The water in the nearby pitcher was still sloshing from side to side as the table sat in relative unease.

“What do you wanna know?” Ellie muttered, her face becoming stoic and steely under Maria’s hopeful countenance.

Maria didn’t hesitate a moment, as month’s of pent up inquisition and curiosity tumbled out of her mouth haphazardly. “Well, you said you were immune, and there were others that shared that ability. But you haven’t found a way to share that immunity? Have you tried a blood transfusion? What about studying your DNA?”

“Maria” Joel growled as he fisted the tablecloth, threatening to upset the entire dinner table this time.

“Honey, can’t we just let sleeping dogs lie?” Tommy beseeched his wife, lowering his gaze to the floor with humiliation.

“I’m just asking a question, Tommy” she bitterly retorted. “Don’t you want your baby to grow up in a commune that’s safe, and protected from EVERY horror this world has to offer?”. She took a deep breath and rested her attention on Ellie once again. “Well, honey, what’ve you got to say for yourself?” 

Ellie’s face nearly curled in a snarl, sensing Joel’s brimming rage and your helplessness in the face of the truth. “It’s no use” she began, holding Maria’s gaze with an unflinchingly cold stare. “I’ve lost countless people that my immunity could never save. Riley, Tess, Sam….None of it made any difference. I was stupid to think the Fireflies could do better. But Joel will tell you. We tried everything, and when that didn’t work, the raiders came and destroyed everything and everyone that got in their way. I’m no damn good to the people I love. Just another god-forsaken human in this shit-show of an existence. And it doesn’t matter if that baby lives to grow old, he better learn to take care of himself, because he won’t be gettin’ any goddam help from the world around him”.  Maria’s face fell with disappointment, nodding slightly with acceptance as Tommy took her hand encouragingly. You bit back a sob, hearing Ellie’s bleak outlook on life in this post-apocalyptic hell. Joel could never tell her the truth about that day. She was already so alone, his apparent betrayal would only serve to isolate her further still. Ellie MUST be kept alive. Looking over at Joel’s graying visage, you wished it didn’t come at such a high cost.

“So that’s it” Maria muttered, touching her belly lightly, her eyes still lowered to the ground. “Joel, are you sure you’re not hiding anything else?” she asked one final time, fixing him with an interrogative stare. You held your breath with anticipation as the room caught Joel in a heated stare. Maria would NOT back down. Either her desperation was so intense or her maternal nature was in intuitive overdrive, it seemed only a force of nature would deter her at this point.

“Well, I guess you caught me…” Joel began, drawing your concern and Ellie’s questioning eyes in one fell swoop. This couldn’t be. You had to stop him from undoing the most difficult choice he had ever made in his life. 

“Teach and I are plannin’ on gettin’ married”.

Your mouth dropped open in surprise, squeezing his hand so hard you wondered if he would need to revisit the doctor that evening. “Joel, are you sure?” the words fell out of your mouth as Ellie reverted back to a teenager of 17 years, giggling and clapping her hands enthusiastically, and Tommy began to beam broadly in periphery.

“Still workin’ on the wedding present, but yeah, I figure if you can put up with me and Ellie for the last several months, ya might be worth keepin’ around for good” Joel’s mouth curled in a mischievous grin as you sat yourself firmly on his lap, hugging him assuredly around the neck for good measure.

“Well I’ll be damned!” Tommy exclaimed, clapping his brother heartily on the shoulder and catching Maria’s knowing expression.

“I told you there was something he was hiding” Maria slowly mused, sighing with relief, and giving Ellie’s arm a soft squeeze of approval as a peace offering. You looked into Joel’s eyes searching for the smallest amount of doubt or hesitation, but found none there. It was something beyond your dreams, that even seemed to quell your nightmares. It was home.

Rascal the Cat sniffed awkwardly at every visitor, as the The Bookshop’s normally quiet atmosphere radiated light and love, the residents of Jackson Commune pouring in throughout the day. Joel stood behind the counter, stoically surveilling, but approachable nonetheless. His arms were folded neatly over his broad chest with skepticism, but a small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, watching families and children make their way around the neatly organized and homey Bookshop. You and Ellie were on social duty, guiding families to the appropriate sections, the corner wood burning stove currently out of use as the Spring season began to thaw everything around it. You looked over at Joel whose statuesque stare was already beaming at your welcoming and warm presence. You could never have imagined this chain of events that first day you walked into his bookshop.

The Bookshop Bell rang jauntily as Tommy sauntered in with a fresh bouquet of lavender, immediately catching your eye and heading towards you. You finished your conversation with a nearby family as Tommy caught you in a familial embrace. “How are the plans comin’ Teach?” you admired the small freckles dotting his cheeks and mischievous sparkle in his eyes that reminded you of Joel. You’d never had a brother, but you were pretty sure this is what it felt like.

“Gosh, I haven’t even stopped to think!” you admitted, brushing a stray hair out of your face and grinning at the children that were good-naturedly chasing Rascal around the biographies section. “Honestly, a wedding ceremony is the last thing on my mind! We’ve got Spring evaluations for the students and I’m helping Ellie organize the Harvest Dance. But at least The Bookshop is finally up and running, and Joel can get back on patrol soon. What about you? How’s Maria?”

“Oh she insisted I leave her alone this afternoon, and sends her regards” Tommy handed you the bouquet, sheepishly tugging at the back of his neck with humility. “She’s just about to pop, and I think I’m driving her more nuts than usual” he confessed, squeezing your arm affectionately. “Just wanted to say, thanks for all your help around the commune, and gettin’ my elderly brother to soften up a little. Welcome to the family!” he leaned in conspiratorially as Joel eyed him suspiciously from the corner. “Don’t tell everyone what a big ole softie he actually is…”. You knowingly smiled, catching Joel’s inquiring gaze that immediately spread into a shit-eating grin. You hadn’t seen that look in a while, and you breathed a sigh of relief enjoying the settling Spring recreation. Maybe everything was going to be just fine. Tommy headed over to the front counter as Ellie caught your attention from the Classic Literature Section.

“Hey Teach, have you ever heard of a book called something like….The Miserables?” Ellie grimaced, skeptical at its existence.

“Les Miserables?” you pondered, glancing at the backroom. “Uhhh…does the musical count?”

Tommy lumbered up to the front counter as Joel finally melted from his stolid, sentry-like visage, relaxing under his brother’s sunshine countenance. “You old dog” Tommy clapped him on the shoulder, looking around The Bookshop appraisingly. “I hate to say it, but….you done good. This is just what the commune needs, and seems like you got the best part of the deal” he watched you and Ellie disappear into the backroom, laughing together. “Ya gonna get her a ring?” his eyes twinkled sweetly, reaching over for Joel’s unfinished coffee and taking a swig, wincing at its potent bitterness.

“Not sure you noticed but we’re kinda in an apocalypse right now?” Joel huffed, defiantly placing his hands on his hips, and matching Tommy’s mischief. “HOWEVER, if you’ll put me back on patrols I can get to bartering for it” he gruffly stated. “Already got a wedding present. Do you want me build a city hall and get the appropriate paperwork while I’m at it?” he grabbed the coffee from Tommy’s hand and downed it in one gulp amidst Tommy’s chortling.

“I’m just glad to see you so happy again” Tommy acquiesced, looking around The Bookshop and nodding with encouragement. “Wasn’t but a few months ago, I was starting to think my brother right near lost his mind. Damn, you had me wonderin’ if you were joining up with the raiders, or vying for the Fireflies”. Joel’s eyes flashed a dangerous shade of black before his face returned to a jovial skepticism. “But all that time, you were just fixin’ to get married” Tommy teased. “How’s about some brotherly advice? Doesn’t seem near appropriate for this soon to be dad askin’ about Playboy magazine” his ears tinged a slight shade of red. “How’s about Home and Gardens? Or Women’s Health?” he balked, chewing at his lower lip. Joel heavily clapped a hand on his back looking over at Ellie affectionately.

“We’ll get you fixed up” he surmised. He hadn’t but circled the counter when a young man came running down the commune square, flinging open the door to The Bookshop with the telltale ringing of the doorbell. 

“Tommy, come quick! Maria already went to the infirmary after her water broke…and is screaming bloody murder! I ran as fast as I could…but you might nearly be a dad already!” he gasped between bouts of coughing and sputtering as the color completely drained from Tommy’s face and a tavern-like cheer went up in The Bookshop.

“Holy hell” Tommy muttered, standing still in paralysis, like a man sleepwalking until Joel shoved him towards the door.

“Ellie, get this man over to the infirmary before he damn near falls over” Joel beamed, gesturing for Ellie, and sending the three of them towards the door in a bumbling, talkative heap as you sidled up beside him. 

“Come on ‘Uncle Tommy’ you look like you’re about to lose your lunch!” Ellie joked, grabbing Tommy’s arm and driving him forward. “Say, do you know why one Father’s Day gift wasn’t better than another?” Joel rolled his eyes as Ellie wheeled Tommy out the door. “A tie. It was a tie” she guffawed, pulling Tommy down the street and towards his future, bright and beautiful.

The Bookshop twinkled with congratulations and laughter as families plotted on what to barter for their upcoming “purchases”. Taking Joel’s hand in yours you eyed the three of them stumbling down the commune square towards the infirmary and grinned with satisfaction.

“You know she would do anything for you” you mused, leaning against Joel’s body and sighing with contentment.

“I feel the same way” Joel agreed, smiling tiredly. “But she’s near grown up now. Won’t need me no more” he introspected wearily as Rascal the Cat looped himself around Joel’s ankles.

“Well, some of us still need you” you nuzzled his shoulder fondly as Joel turned, backing you up into one of the nearby bookshelves.

“Joel…” you whispered shyly, looking around The Bookshop with chagrin and remembering your first meeting with nostalgia.

“M’I not allowed to kiss my ‘soon-to-be-wife?” his cheeks flushed brightly as he gazed lovingly into your eyes.

“Fine by me” you smirked, digging your hands in to the front pockets of Joel’s jeans and eliciting a low, chuckle from his towering figure that was caging you in. “You know, it’s okay if that was a red herring or something” you deflected, admiring the swirling depths of feeling in Joel’s nearby shining eyes.

“How’s that?” Joel mumbled into your clavicle as you gripped him possessively around the neck, crumpling your body against him and blushing.

“Oh you know what I mean…If that was just to detour Maria, or if you have second thoughts, I’m not going anywhere” you mumbled before Joel pulled back to look deep into your eyes.

“Not havin’ second thoughts” he blunted stated before planting a searing kiss on your imploring lips that seemed to deaden the chaos in The Bookshop to a single pin prick of loving light. It was quite some time before the sound of the surrounding atmosphere trickled back into your hearing, as your eyes remained closed in a dizzying haze of romantic ebullience. Your eyelids finally fluttered open as Joel watched you keenly, placing both hands aside your face. He looked like he was about to kiss you again before his eyes darted up to the small metallic indentation in the bookshelf just above your head. “Well I’ll be damned” he whispered, digging a small bullet out of the corner and holding it in front of your face with some confusion.

“Expect the unexpected” you drolled, fitting your hips against his playfully.

“Come with me, Teach” Joel teased, pocketing the bullet and pulling you into the backroom. “Rascal, mind the store” he called behind him, meeting the cat’s quizzical expression. “Was gonna save this for our weddin’ night, but sounds like someone needs a little assurance” Joel said over his shoulder as he rummaged around his work space in the back. You enjoyed the fragrant smell of wood chips, coffee and tattered books, silently cataloguing the many resources you had yet to organize.

“S’just a start” he reddened, presenting a chiseled, hand made set of bookends labeled ‘His’ and ‘Hers’ in his outstretched hands before you threw yourself into his embrace.

“How long have you been working on this?” you giggled, seeing his copy of “Crime and Punishment” nearby at this desk.

“‘Bout as long as I’ve been workin’ on weddin’ vows” he grimaced, shaking his head from side to side. “Probably need to set the bar low, Teach” he self-deprecated, shrugging sheepishly.

“Is that your next homework assignment?” you taunted, picking up the book and turning to the most recent dog eared page. Joel took the book from your hands, clearing his throat timidly.

“Just tryin’ to learn from the best” he mused, reading aloud;

“How it happened, he did not know. But all at once something seemed to seize him and fling him at her feet. He wept and threw his arms round her knees. At the same moment she understood, and a light of infinite happiness came into her eyes. She knew and had no doubt that he loved her beyond everything and that at last the moment had come. They wanted to speak, but could not; tears shone in their eyes. They were renewed by love; the heart of each held infinite sources of life for the heart of the other. What terrible suffering and what infinite happiness before them! But he had risen again and he knew it and felt it in all his being. He knew with what infinite love he would now repay all her sufferings. And what were all the agonies of the past? Everything, even his crime, seemed to him now in the first rush of feeling an external, strange fact. Life had stepped into the place of theory and something quite different would work itself out in his mind. Under his pillow lay Sonia’s Bible, it was the one from which she had read the raising of Lazarus to him. He did not open it now, but one thought passed through his mind; “Can her convictions not be mine now? Her feelings, her aspirations at least…”. He did not know that the new life would not be given him for nothing, that he would have to pay dearly for it; that it would cost him great striving, great suffering. But that is the beginning of a new story-the story of the gradual renewal of a man, the story of his gradual regeneration, of his passing from one world to another, of his initiation into a new unknown life. That might be the subject of a new story, but our present story is ended.”

Joel’s raspy voice trailed off, now lost in the curious expression of your eyes that danced with a newfound light. “A new story…” you whispered quietly, drawing your arms around his neck and pulling him in for a tender kiss.

A new story.

PedgesBookshop

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

Series Masterlist

*featuring art from Franz Marc

The One That Almost...

Triggers: meandering weirdness, SH, ideation, illness, spirituality, asexuality, profanity...good luck...

Y'all, this year was strange. I doubled down on therapy and fitness...and crying, if we're honest. I went back to an old job for less money. I started communicating more with my employer about chronic illness, and I disappeared from a vibrant social life almost entirely.

No Pedge, my darling, I am NOT okay, but in 2024 I developed a genuine appreciation for that. Having survived a hysterectomy, my body is embarking on the next strange reboot, and most of the holidays were derailed because of this.

I'm not sure I've ever cried so much or been so confused. Yesterday I didn't even leave the house, and today I'm visiting the parentals to celebrate New Year by 8pm flat. And then I'm leaving lol. I've been so encouraged by Pedge's unconventional holiday because I feel like he GETS it.

I'm displeased with the election results, my parents are struggling, and my health prognosis is nebulous. I was offered a Broadway Tour that I declined, did no substantial traveling, and cultivated an AMAZING friendship with a man who is on the other side of the country. Broke up with my "gay husband", experimented with an "ace" label, discovered I don't want to get married or have kids, and am deconstructing my spiritual beliefs one devastating reality at a time.

AND...I'm writing a TON. I'm showing up more authentically in ALL my relationships, including self. I am more convinced than ever of the experience of Love, and somehow I continue to make my world a better place. I'm turning out to be the love of my life!

It's confusing as hell, but I'm not dead yet, and by golly I'm happy about that! I get to exist! I still haven't met Papi Pascal, but I'm not actually sure I want to. Everybody I know who has worked with him says he's a dream, and I believe them. Just knowing that we exist in the same world makes me happy, and today, that's enough. Plus, I had one quick convo with Coco, and she's just as sweet as our guy. I continue to be entranced.

Adding the button to my year of "almosts" I've been waiting to celebrate having 100 followers...as I'm stuck at 99. I considered doing some sort of Tumblr campaign, but honestly, WHY? I write for me! Goals are good, but this almost seems more fitting. I have a bazillion WIP's and it's helping me get through my health challenges, and that's what I need right now. As much of our Pazookie Pedge as we can STAND, and then a bit more...

So here is to a year of "almosts"! None of it looked quite right, it didn't follow my agenda, and it involved a lot more snot than anyone has a right to. But I still get to exist, and there's nothing "almost" about that. Thanks Pedro Pascal for being alive! I'm gonna try to do the same...

Pedge Poems

Pedro Scouts was my first official Tumblr activity and Pedge and I are a little sad the fun is over. We've written a saucy RPF limerick as a poem of appreciation for all the amazing writers who contribute to the fandom to keep our sexy dreams alive and kicking! We confess, this one got a bit naughty! Thanks @pedroscouts for a fun time!

You started by taking the pledge Then bumped into someone named Pedge Now crushing fast you want it to last And wonder if he likes to edge? Another hot day you went fishing, But found yourself quietly wishing That you were his bait, you couldn’t quite wait And soon ditched the fishing for kissing. An evening or two you conspired On how one might start a bonfire After a match your lips you did latch And soon it consumed your desire. He says he’s a boy from abroad, And seems to possess a broad bod When pitching a tent, his manhood he lent And thus had you chanting, “Oh GOD!” One day was a bit of a bore You prepped at the camp to make s’mores It got a bit lick-y and sexy time sticky He called you his sweet little whore. Last week in the tent, feeling bossy, You opted to get a bit saucy You said “lookie-lookie”, come eat my scout cookie Until all your lips became glossy. A dinner of beans seemed so easy, But bubbled into something breezy You started to toot, then Pedro taboot And later you came, easy peezy. When you and Pedge started the summer Things were a bit of a bummer But now as a Scout you no longer pout And Pedge loves an everyday hummer Fandoms are fun ways for friending With people in need of some mending Together we band, while lending a hand Enjoying our night’s “happy endings”!

@pedroscouts @goodwithcheese

In Cold Blood; The Exposition

Grab a Latte! lounge around in the foyer with this sweet fic "Happy to Help" @itwasntimethatdidit40, before heading into the Bookshop!

Triggers: mentions of alcohol/smoking, huge spoilers for the Truman Capote classic "In Cold Blood" which is referenced A LOT, profanity, romance, common themes from 1959, slight misogyny, murder and mayhem! Enjoy....

Series Masterlist

Word Count: 3k

A seedy and polluted haze drifted over the din of the L.A. basin as Tim Rockford inhaled a slow drag from another satisfying smoke. Just another day in the life of investigation, as the gears of inspection ground down to a wearied lull. Another night for Chinese Take out, thought the P.I as he loosened the strap of his gun holster and downed the first of several whiskeys. Rockford didn’t mind being a private investigator. If pressed, he’d go so far as to say, he absolutely loved it; the adventure, the intrigue, the search for truth amidst a grimy haze of innuendo and misdirection. 

But on tired nights, such as these, he also wondered if a soft, feminine body wouldn’t cushion the loneliness. Begrudgingly extinguishing the cigarette and flicking the light switch, he grabbed his coat, poised to enter the bustling Los Angeles night life before….

A phone rang. 

HIS phone rang, in the echoing and empty office building he populated with so many others. Who would be calling at this hour? He paused but a millisecond to lift the phone receiver, anticipating the tinny crackle of an undisclosed voice.

“Tim Rockford; Private Investigator for hire”. An eerie silence permeated the landline, as Rockford sucked through his teeth with annoyance. “Look Mack, I’m on my way out, so make it quick…”. The line immediately bristled to life as a tentative, high-pitched nasal voice cut through the auditory ether.

“Tim Rockford?” the voice nonsensically repeated, as though caught in an unexpected moment. Rockford cocked his head to the side with curiosity. He wasn't often contacted by a woman, particularly this late at night.

“In the flesh” Tim answered, with softening annoyance. What was this? Rockford had some Moo Shu Pork to order before this whiskey threatened his already cranky stomach lining. Maybe egg rolls were a good idea as a chaser, he pondered, waiting for the caller to get up their gumption. “What can I do you for?” he probed, shifting his weight impatiently. 

“Tim Rockford….in Los Angeles…Tim Rockford, Private Investigator?” the voice gained a little anonymous momentum, as Tim tried to wrangle his increasing disdain.

“Look doll, I don’t care if you’ve got the zorros, but make it quick will ya? I’ve got a plate of stir fry with my name on it….” Rockford admonished, wondering if he should take his raincoat off or not.

“Yes! Yes, Mr. Rockford, forgive my hesitancy. Um….are you familiar with Holcomb? Holcomb, Kansas?” 

Rockford froze with intensity, looking around the quiet, darkened room. Of course, he’d heard of Holcomb, Kansas. The recent catastrophic four person, Clutter Family murder had painted the newspapers over the last couple weeks, and the entire investigative community was alight. Who would do such a thing in a sleepy, unassuming town? It had all the markings of a robbery gone wrong, but what could have led to such unmitigated violence? Tim’s inquisition and sense of justice was immediately heightened, but he tried to play it off as the cool cat he was.

“Plastered all over the news, paper shaker. What’s it to me?” his stomach gurgled audibly as he waited with rapt anticipation. He wanted in. This was maybe the biggest crime of the decade, and chance had potentially dropped a prime opportunity in the palm of his hand.

Another dramatic pause of introspection gripped the receiver before the voice admitted, “We need help Mr. Rockford. This case is much bigger than anyone here in Finney County can muster. It’s only a matter of time before the Kansas Bureau of Investigations comes snooping into all our business, and we want someone we can trust. You know, a man of the people…” the voice confessed.

Score.

“Alright doll, how many smackers are we talkin’?” Rockford chewed his lip with anticipation. He had just finished a recent case and there were no prospects on the horizon. Well, unless you counted the secretarial search, but a hook as large as this one would necessitate two…no…four weeks of investigation, travel and per diem. Maybe even justicial glory for the taking.

“Well….we took up a little charity offering at the town hall yesterday. Managed to dig up about one hundred dollars…” Rockford rolled his eyes before draping a weary hand over his furrowed brow. One hundred dollars? That would barely cover two weeks salary, to say nothing of the cost of food and travel. He stalled momentarily, unsure of his footing as the caller placated.

“Please Mr. Rockford, I think you might be our only hope”.

Rockford held his breath, weighing the options. The pay wasn’t as enticing as he’d hoped, but the rewards would far outweigh any monetary reparations. If his moniker was attached to solving the crime of the decade, it was only a matter of time before Rockford P.I. was a household name.

“I can be there in about two days” Rockford’s gravelly voice betrayed a hint of child-like enthusiasm as the anonymous caller rattled off the important details.

“Oh thank you Mr. Rockford, P.I., sir. I can’t tell you what a boon this is for Holcomb, Kansas. We are just beside ourselves with worry” the voice pleaded as Rockford nodded with encouragement.

“Damndest thing I’ve heard of in a while” Rockford admitted. “I’ll get to work straight away. See you in a few days, Mrs.….?”….but the line went dead at the potential inquiry.

Hmmm. Not a good sign. But Rockford was already planning his next move. Grab every piece of newspaper clippings, roadmaps and literature he could get his hands on. Pack a suitcase for a few weeks in Holcomb, Kansas, hop in his trusty Ford Falcon tomorrow morning and start the arduous task of uncovering the truth in the “Clutter Family Murders”.

Now, all he needed was an egg roll, some Moo Shu Pork and a good night’s sleep. Finney County, Holcomb, Kansas….here I come.

The mellifluous voice of Frankie Avalon drifted from your record player singing the dulcet tones of “Why” as you teased your bouffant just a bit higher.

I'll never let you go Why? Because I love you I'll always love you so Why? Because you love me

You bit your lower lip, already smudging the dark red lipstick you had freshly applied. Who did you think you were, Marilyn Monroe? You were reaching for the stars, not trying to ascend to heaven with the height of your questionable hairstyle. Opting for a more humble approach, you shifted your pantyhose awkwardly as they began to ride up your ass. So much for new fashions. 

No broken hearts for us 'Cause we love each other And with our faith and trust There could be no other

You had already been to more interviews than you could count, and opportunities were starting to become scarce. For most employers money was tight, and you didn’t have an official secretarial certificate to fall back on. But you were talented, skilled, full of moxie, and today on this potentially mediocre Tuesday, that was all you needed. 

I think you're awfully sweet Why? Because I love you You say I'm your special treat Why? Because you love me

You nodded curtly at your beleaguered expression in the mirror, grabbing your coat and heading for the door.  You were determined to land this next employment, come hell or high-water, and were willing to do whatever it took. Well, ALMOST whatever it took, you noted, grabbing your thermos of coffee and heading for the bus stop. This Mr. Rockford P.I wouldn’t know what hit him, you mused, locking the door securely behind you and strutting forward confidently. At least you would try to look damn good...while you, once again, fell flat on your coifed face...

We found the perfect love Yes, a love that's yours and mine I love you and you love me I love you and you love me We'll love each other dear forever

Rockford had spent most of a sleepless night pouring over the many newspaper clippings he had accumulated about the Clutter Family Murders. Somehow the Moo Shu Pork remained relatively untouched. The trades could always be sensational, but the distinction of these reports was indicated by everything they DIDN’T say. This was a veritable bloodbath, which had done quite enough to set Tim off his much anticipated dinner. The main point of contention seemed to be the cause for such a grandiose and seemingly incomprehensible atrocity. The Clutter Family did not seem to possess extravagant monetary means. They were well-loved and admired by the town of Holcomb, Kansas; couldn’t have been more quintessentially traditional than apple pie.

What had gone wrong?

One newspaper clipping had stood out. Such was the descriptive narrative by a reporter named…Capote something…Rockford had all but obsessed on its picturesque description. 

“Until one morning in mid-November of 1959, few Americans-in fact, few Kansans had ever heard of Holcomb. Like the water of the river, like the motorists on the highway, and like the yellow trains streaking down the Santa Fe tracks, drama, in the shape of exceptional happenings, had never stopped there. The inhabitants of the village, numbering two hundred and seventy, were satisfied that this should be so, quite content to exist inside ordinary life-to work, to hunt, to watch television, to attend school socials, choir practice, meetings of the 4-H Club. But then, in the early hours of that morning in November, a Sunday morning, certain foreign sounds impinged on the normal nightly Holcomb noises on the keening hysteria of coyotes, the dry scrape of scuttling tumbleweed, the racing, receding wail of locomotive whistles. At the time, not a soul in sleeping Holcomb heard them-four shotgun blasts that, all told, ended four human lives. But afterward the townspeople, therefore sufficiently unfearful of each other to seldom trouble to lock their doors, found fantasy recreating them over and again-those somber explosions that stimulated fires of mistrust in the glare of which many old neighbors viewed each other strangely, and as strangers.”

Rockford issued a heavy sigh, dragging himself to his feet, pouring himself into the Ford Falcon and making a quick trip to the office. He rubbed the bridge of his nose with irritation and fatigue. Maybe a breakfast of whiskey and aspirin wasn’t TOTALLY out of order. He had started packing a small suitcase for the approaching trip, before realizing that most of his formative research and notes still remained at the office. Pulling into the parking lot of the building, his reliable Ford puttered to a smoky stop before Tim achingly lumbered up the stairs to his own office. Just ONE whiskey before the road. How many aspirin could you take on an empty stomach, he wondered before opening the door to find….

….the silkiest legs he had beholden in more time than he would care to admit.

The sounds of an imaginary saxophone seemed to permeate his now idling brain, as his eyes lugubriously dragged from the curving ankle up to the ironed skirt, and finally resting on the mischievous expression of an unknown female.

“Mr. Rockford, I presume?” you stood, outstretching a well-manicured hand into the dumbly, overstimulated countenance of a somewhat befuddled and handsomely disheveled private investigator.

“Ummmmm….” he stalled, simultaneously looking around the office to make sure nothing untoward lay in a public place. 

“I’m here for the secretarial interview” you immediately offered, as he kicked the door shut behind him, holding your hand tentatively in his surprisingly tender grasp.

A spark of acknowledgement flitted through his mind scape as he reconsidered the logic of a whisky chaser with breakfast. Damn. What a doll. Shame that I can’t investigate further, he lamented, dropping your hand with immediate chagrin and bustling about the office haphazardly.

“Look sweetheart, I don’t mean to be rude, but I’m just on my way out with an important case. I’m sorry the agency wasted your time, but I’ve got little to no time for a person of your….skill” Rockford seemed to be bumbling with his words as he gathered the important documents and research loosely in his grasp. Your expression immediately fell with disappointment before morphing into a confident transformation.

“I’m not with an agency!” you piped up, starting to organize his desk, such as it were, and placing a smelly, used cigar in the nearby wastebasket. “I’m a go-getter, and a single gal of wit and resource. Looks like you could use all the help you can get!” you blurted out enthusiastically, grabbing the pile of papers from Rockford’s surprised hold and smoothing them into an organized pile. “Now if you’ll just show me where the typewriter is, I can get to work on notating this important case of yours” you insisted, nearly shoving him to the side and plopping down in the main office chair as it squeaked with impetulance.

Tim smiled ruefully to himself, opening the side drawer that revealed assorted contents of handcuffs, pencils, paperclips and aspirin. Well weren’t you a fire starter? Typical redhead. He winced with regret, massaging the back of his neck with discomfort. Get ahold of yourself, fella; no time for night time fantasies in the day. Just let her down easy and head towards the next steps of your future. “Look Miss….?”

“You can call me Red” you offered definitively, beginning to rifle through Rockford’s drawers in order to appear decisive, but gasping ever so slightly upon discovering what appeared to be a spare revolver in the lower chest. Clearing your throat immediately you sallied forth, brushing past his broad shoulders and beginning to organize the disastrously unkempt file cabinets in desperation. 

You could NOT lose this job opportunity. You would do whatever it took…and this Mr. Rockford could just get on board sooner rather than later. Rockford stood smiling behind you, with a knowing agitation. Maybe he could employ your services after the case, but it wasn’t going to be easy to throw you off of his scent. Maybe intimidation was the key...

“Familiar with the Clutter Family Murders?” he all but interrogated, reaching over to slam the file cabinet shut, a puff of air displacing your auburn locks and eliciting a fast flourish of your feather-like eyelashes.

“Of course” you lied. It’s possible you had read something fleeting in the local newspapers, but most of your attention had been focused on securing a new job as fast as was humanly possible. It had been a long trek to L.A. and you weren’t enthusiastic about returning to your mid-western roots, with your tail between your legs. Determined to make something of yourself in the City of Angels, you stared back at Rockford with what you hoped was a steely gaze of determination. Rockford’s glance lowered ever so quickly to the plump, reddish hue of your lipsticked mouth. 

Damn. “Look doll…I mean…Red…I don’t know the intricacies of this case, I’ve only just started. But based on the trades, the scene is about as colorful as that perky nickname of yours. Not easy fixin’s for the eyes of a lady, to say nothing of a doll….” Rockford bluntly stated, as a thin shade of embarrassment crept up your neck and into your cheeks.

Damn. “Mr. Rockford, I don’t know how many ‘dolls’ you’ve employed in the past, but I am no shrinking violet” you tried to quell the slight tremor that laced your voice. Probably just…the excitement of a new job opportunity. “I am more than capable of fulfilling any secretarial duties, whether the crime is polite or not” you nodded curtly, perhaps in an attempt to convince even yourself. Rockford gazed at you appraisingly with a degree of skepticism.

“I can’t pay you…much” Tim muttered, hesitantly considering the options before him. This was quite possibly the biggest case he had ever been invited to solve, and it didn’t escape him that he might need all the help he could get—even from a distracting broad like you. Your visage shifted ever so slightly with the changing balance of power.

“I’m very interested in gaining more experience” you blurted out a bit too quickly before confidently placing your hands on your hips. “I can type 60 words per minute and make a darn good cup of joe”. Almost as an afterthought you raced around the desk, grabbing your purse for the plaid thermos, unscrewing the top and hefting it under Rockford’s nose. Tim tilted his head to the side with cynicism.

“Travel per diem might be in order….” he considered, taking the thermos tentatively and sniffing with curiosity. This was better than whiskey. Or….better WITH whiskey, he sipped slowly at first, eventually draining the entire draught. Your mouth dropped with surprise at this new information.

“Travel?” you dumbly repeated, dropping the purse on the nearby chair and attempting not to sink down on top of it. What the hell? You had barely been in L.A one month and had yet to fully understand the transit system. Was your first job in this new life, already tearing you away from it? “Travel to where??” you doubled down, stubbornly unwilling to let go of this tantalizing opportunity just within your grasp.

“Holcomb, Kansas of course!” Rockford wiped his mouth with the back of a speckled hand, returning the thermos and now rifling through the drawers once again. Aspirin. Revolver. Binoculars….He begrudgingly thought better of actually retrieving the “breakfast whiskey”.

“KANSAS?!” the word escaped from your mouth like an accusation, trying to pin him down with incredulity and meeting his gaze with unadulterated surprise. “When?”

“That’d be now, sweets” Rockford offered, nodding curtly and lumbering out the door with a handful of files and assorted necessities as you looked around the office helplessly.  “Either way, thanks for the coffee, you’re a real doll. Meet you back here in an hour if you’re game. Otherwise, I’ll be seein’ ya…” his voice drifted down the hall as you stood with mouth agape.

He must be joking. Within thirty minutes of meeting Rockford P.I. you had a possible job, the promise of adventure and intrigue, and a questionable road trip with a man you hardly knew. What could possibly go wrong?

“Does that mean I’ve got the job?” you questioned, receiving no answer whatsoever and hearing a car puttering to life outside.

Well not if you just stand there, Red, you mused, gathering your things and taking one final glance around the office. “Catch you on the flip side!” you muttered to no one in particular, racing down the hallway and running towards the nearest bus stop. If you hurried, you could just make it.

Exactly one hour later, you felt ridiculous. Standing on the corner, with a small, humble suitcase, you felt like Little Orphan Annie. You bit your lower lip in frustration. If William could see you now, he would be laughing his ass off. You brushed the self-deprecating thought aside. Well, William isn’t here now, and it’s up to you. You heard the sound of the sputtering Ford Falcon before seeing it, as a smoky plume drifted into your peripheral view and Rockford P.I. loomed large before parking the car just beside you, the engine idling loudly.

“Wasn’t sure you’d come, Red” he smiled, opening the passenger door, and gesturing to the back. “Glad you packed light! Hoist it in the back will ya?” It seemed you had passed the point of no return, as you hefted your small suitcase atop boxes of newspapers, a small typewriter, baseball bat and other assorted mysteries. You hesitated just a moment before wiping down the dusted passengers seat and noting the myriad of cigarettes populating the nearby ash tray.

“How ‘bout it doll? Ready for an adventure?” Rockford asked rhetorically, before the engine roared to life in response. Your answer died quickly on your lips before settling in your stomach with a heaviness that betrayed the fluttering curiosity in your chest. Only one way to find out…

@littlemisspascal  @lizette50 @beefrobeefcal @sawymredfox @anelva @wordywarriorwrites @burntheedges @inept-the-magnificent @timelordfreya  @schnarfer @devineconjuring @mermaidgirl30 @galaxyedging @joelalorian @joelmillerisapunk @jennaispunk @sheepdogchick3 @marcus-is-my-muse @guiltyasdave  @copperhalfcent @bluesweaters15 @drewharrisonwriter @darkheartgatita @harriedandharassed @brittmb115 @confusedpuffin @yorksgirl @quicax3 @shaunasflannel @shinyanchorobject

Pedge Tweets PikesPlace

I fell hard for these two, in an unexpected way. Since y'all love them as much as I do, I've started a Slow Burn Winter Series with the assist of @inept-the-magnificent! Here's a little Christmas Confection before our next reveal December 15th! Fictionally, this takes place somewhere between Episodes 3 and 4...

Series Masterlist

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