A Very Special Episode Of PB And J

My Darling Muse, My Darling Dieter...

*featuring AI art and Jackson Pollock background

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

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

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

My Darling Muse,

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

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

*Andre Masson

My Darling Dieter,

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

"Glass of Absinthe" by Van Gogh

My Darling Dieter,

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

*Halman

My Darling Dieter,

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

*Warhol-Basquiat

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

*thanks @kodaswrld for the cool dividers

Get to Know Your Moots

@burntheedges Always comes through with the Polls and Prompts. I've been wrestling with health challenges, but this Valentine's is a win for my self-love journey. Approaching my one year Tumblr anniversary and thought I'd introduce myself a bit more...

What's the origin of your blog title?: Pedro Pascal lists a friendly nickname of Pedge in a BBC interview, and Tumblr is where I exist with him parasocially. It’s Pedge’s World, I’m just living’ in it!

OTP(s) + shipname: Okay I’m a Tumblr baby so I had to look these terms up. But I’m the OG fan nerd. Star Trek, Star Wars, Harrison Ford, LOTR, Narnia, Marvel, D.C, Disney, Broadway, Sherlock, Harry Potter…I’ve really jumped around. I don’t often ship, but maybe Benny/Frankie, Han/Leia, Pedro and anyone…Not sure I understand this term…

Favorite Color: Every color is on the table for me. I love variety.

Favorite Game: I like any of Lego Themed Video Games because you never really die

Earworm: Abracadraba Lady Gaga, Father Figure George Michael

Weirdest Habit: I think my brain works weird. It’s supes philosophical and existential.

Hobbies: Legos, writing, music, acting, painting, art, Disneyland, reading

If you work, what's your profession: Teacher, Artist

If you could have any job you wish what would it be: I thought I wanted to be a mom/wife but that didn’t happen. Then I thought I wanted to be an actor and that DID. But then I realized I wanted to live EVERY life and that wasn’t possible.

Something you're good at: Mentoring other artists

Something you're bad at: Geography and natural sense of direction

Something you love: Humans

Something you could talk about for hours off the cuff: Art philosophy

Something you hate: Hate and prejudice, particularly as it triggers my own self-perception

Something you collect: Mugs, Books, Legos

Something you forget: Don’t know. I forgot.

What's your love language: All of them. I’m an emotional slut.

Favorite movie/show: WTF? Pick one? No.

Favorite Food: Salad

Favorite animal: Dog…or unicorn.

Are you musical: Y.E.S.

What were you like as a child: Not even much shorter. Pure.

Favorite subject at school: English

Least favorite subject: P.E.

What's your best character trait: I love hard and uniquely.

What's your worst character trait: Self harm and the way it negatively impacts others

If you could change any detail of your day right now what would it be: Health

If you could travel in time who would you like to meet: Jesus, I guess :)

Recommend one of your favorite fanfics: I guess it’s Tumblr lore, but I LOVE “A Lover’s Pinch” by @hier--soir . It’s unfinished, so if you want a heartbreak, this is your angst…

Happy Valentine's y'all, I loves you mooots....

Fink's Phrases

Thank you @auteurdelabre for our beautiful coloring book! I'm making slow progress on my health journey, but the holidays were the hardest. This movie was so nurturing, and empowering during this difficult season. I could listen to Papi Pascal all day :) Thanks for indulging my inner child...

Sometimes, to survive, you must become more than you were programmed to be. When you grow up without something you… end up spending a lot of time thinking about it. No one has the programming for motherhood. We just make it up. Funny how life works. Death’s proximity makes life burn a little brighter. If you forgot to say something before you left, they may have heard it anyway. Sometimes hearts have their own conversations. Eating the task is not the same as completing the task. Most of you hate me and I hate most of you. Everyone in here hates someone else. But here we are and here's the deal: the first one that walks out that door is dead and if we can't keep it together in here, everyone's dead. We all got one chance to see next spring, because of her. The 'thing', the 'monster'. And while you all ran from her and stole from her and made fun of her all she's been trying to do is raise her kid. She's the one who got you out of the storm, built this place, and despite my suggestion that she let you all freeze, she risked everything to bring you here. I'm a fox, I do foxy things. It's in my nature!

Pedro at the Beach

Ah! This turned out a little better than I was expecting! I didn't get to do as much sewing as I wanted, but featuring some Pablo Neruda poetry and my handy dandy PP coloring book among other things... We know our guy likes the beach...

Knitting Back Together

Hey folks! I don't know about you but I find interviews with PP to be deeply therapeutic. He's said a number of things I try to speak to myself in self help moments and I hope this FICTIONAL encounter that references some of those quotes is helpful!

Triggers: SH references, scarring, un-alive ideation, hurt/comfort, anxiety attack, discussions of death, spirituality, slight profanity, childhood memories, depression, mother relationships etc...

“Baaaaabe! I’m home!” Pedge exclaimed from the front door, gripping one bag in his mouth and precariously balancing phone, keys and coffee in one hand. Slamming the door shut, he immediately paused at the mausoleum like attitude that forced the air out of the room, oppressing everything in its path. “Baaaaabe?”

He piled everything at the door entrance, looking over at the coffee table to see your keys, book bag and water bottle sitting in loneliness. Furrowing his brow, he bit his lip with concern. This wasn’t good. He did a quick surveillance of the living room to make sure nothing was broken. That’s ridiculous. An over-reaction. You’re probably just taking a nap. At…7pm in the evening? He took a deep breath, calmly walking down the hallway towards your bedroom door which was slightly ajar. “Babe?”

His breath caught in his throat seeing your sedentary figure, piled under copious blankets, a mug of cold tea and tissues strewn around the room.

He swallowed dryly, walking softly to the edge of the bed and sitting down carefully, so as not to jostle you. “Are you awake?” he asked, positioning his hand on the other side of your body, caging you in. Momentarily unsure of your answer, he noticed the lump of fabric, shuddering with movement and whimpering slightly. Trying to lighten the mood he continued, “If this is a burglar, I just want you to know that I only have enough food for two people, and my girlfriend is going to be VERY annoyed you are using her favorite mug.”

Silence.

Shit. Maybe this was serious. He quickly changed tactics, becoming concerned. “Can I touch you?”

More silence.

“What’s wrong? Is it your mom?” he shifted to the other side of the bed, laying down next to you.

“It’s nothing” your face crumpled slightly at the tell tale crack in your voice. A strong forearm reached over your quivering form, splaying against your abdomen and pulling you into his torso.

“I’m here” he quietly said, kissing your shoulder and slotting his hips against yours. Your resolve started to shatter as you realized you’d been holding your breath for some time now. A silent cry started to emanate from your mouth as the shaking intensified. Pedge sat up attempting to assess the situation, turning you by the shoulders and looking into your eyes with worry. You started shaking like a leaf, scrunching your face into a silent, distorted cry. He grabbed the back of your neck, pulling you into his body and holding you around the waist. “Breathe, pobrecita, breathe” he commanded, rubbing your back and exampling with his own breath as you shook against him. Your silence finally shattered into a heartbreaking sob as he gripped you even more tightly, rocking you back and forth.

“Can’t…breathe….can’t….breathe….” you squirmed amidst the sheets, kicking your legs in discomfort, and grabbing at his hands for purchase. He grabbed both hands in one grasp, wrapping the other arm around your waist and scooping you into his lap, holding you as you writhed and hyperventilated against his chest. “Can’t…breathe…can’t…breathe…” you twisted in desperation, shuddering against his body and bucking sporadically.

“Okay, we’re okay” he tried to steady his voice, swallowing hard as his heart pumped wildly in his chest with anxiety. “You’re holding your breath, hermosa. Exhale”. Pedge’s voice was steady, but you could hear the edge in his tone as he looked into your face. He blew a soft stream of air over your face as though cooling a warm coffee, and that broke your episode momentarily, your eyes shooting open in desperation.

“Come back, come back to me…” you could hear his voice echoing around you in a dim haze, stars punctuating the edges of your vision, enjoying the tingling sensation traveling through your fingers and across your cheeks. You crumpled slightly against his chest as your body sagged in exhaustion. “Breathe”. You could numbly feel his hands circling at your back, rubbing some life into your deregulated system.

You’re not really sure how much time passed, but your eyes fluttered open to the gray daylight, face dried and sticky with salty tears. You gazed at the particles of dust floating magically against the stream of sunlight drifting in from the windows. Another day.

You felt your body expand with breath, tilting your head up to hazily take in your bedmate. Pedge was sleepily propped up against the headboard, his lips slightly parted, arms grasped loosely around your sides. You took in a shaky breath, moving fingers delicately over his warm forearms. This man was a constant furnace; you felt the corners of your mouth tickle upward in recognition. Okay, a smile. You could still smile.

Taking a few minutes to enjoy the rise and fall of his easy breathing you tried to sink further still into his chest. If I can just disappear. Just for a second. I’m nothing. Just a breath. I’m not me. I’m you. A single tear fell, cascading down his soft stomach. I don’t feel anything. I’m that tear. I’m nothing. No feeling. No being. Just breathing.

Floating between your disassociation and internally grasping to get back into your body you heard Pedge inhale suddenly, licking his lips and gazing around the room in confusion.

“What time is it?” he rasped, blinking against the sunlight.

You gazed up at the ceiling fan which was circling in a monotonous, repetitive drone.

You tried to respond but nothing materialized.

“I’m worried about you” he whispered, rubbing his sore neck and blinking away the sleep. His eyes drifted down as your fingers trailed absentmindedly over the faded, light lines feathering your forearms. You hugged your abdomen tightly against the massive scar slicing across your pelvis.

Broken.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” he ventured, lifting your chin up with one finger to gaze intently into your eyes. You wanted to be rid of this dark, self-seduction. So many words. So many feelings. It all seemed to intensify that which you couldn’t control. Your breathing hitched in your throat, picking up pace in anticipation of the next anxiety attack.

“Okay, okay, okay, my turn…” he cautioned, bringing your body close to his as the bed creaked underneath with your shifting weight. Pedge sighed heavily and swallowed hard, pondering how to offer some comfort in this moment. “Sometimes emotions feel kind of invisible…” he began, trailing his fingers over your scars pulling a small shiver from your body. “And other feelings are so vivid. Like some kind of cinematic dream…” he continued while you closed your eyes, listening to the melodious quality of his voice.

“I mean, in my life. Family. The beach. Movies. It’s like a kaleidoscope…and sometimes it’s hard to grab ahold of”. You bit your lip, holding your breath in anticipation. Pedge was always open hearted, but you didn’t want him to feel obligated, just because you couldn’t get your shit together.

“It can feel really isolating, for me. Denmark…Chile…never entirely belonging, even to yourself.” You tilted your head up with concern. “You really don’t have to…” you eeked out, already thankful for his candor.

He smiled dolefully, carrying on. “There are some things you just can’t say. Emotions that are so strong. Unless it’s a book. Or a movie! Then it’s magical. It’s sacred. It’s a kind of…church”. You nodded your head against his chest.

“I don’t really know. Sometimes you’re just so desperate to belong. I told you before, but school in CA wasn’t great. I thought I was accepted, and then I was wasn’t. Geez, adolescence sucks.” Smiling with acknowledgement, it wasn’t until Pedro grasped your hand that you realized you had absentmindedly been scratching at your forearms. You stopped short, embarrassed by the momentary lapse. He paused, licking his lips and gripping you tightly.

“What am I saying, here? It was like the parts I wanted to keep were slipping through my fingers. But the feelings I didn’t want were so visceral, it was like I couldn’t escape them.”

You felt your body relax atop him, trying to slow your breathing and take in the moment.

“I don’t really like remembering that time, but the connections. The connections with people who knew me. Like REALLY knew me and accepted me even when I didn’t accept myself” he drew his hand over his face, scratching at his beard. “Jesus…what am I even saying?” he grinned ruefully, a blush creeping up his cheeks in self-deprecation. “What does it all mean?”

You cleared your throat hesitatingly. “No, I think I get what you’re saying. Sometimes life feels intangible. Or temporary. Or larger than life. And emotions can be so strong, you just wish something would mirror that experience. Like…cinema…or…other people…” you trailed off gazing hesitantly at your largest scar digging its way through your pelvis. “Sometimes you just wish you could explain…or…not have to”. His eyebrows furrowed together sadly, tightening his lips in silence.

“Yeah, there are some things we want to express that are…wordless” he ventured, rubbing the new pinkish trails of scratches that were just plumping up, angrily. You laughed sarcastically, shaking your head disapprovingly at your own proclivities. Change.

“Anyways…I think it can be hard, following expectations other people set for us. OR we set up for ourselves. I sort of believe nobody has the right to tell us how to live our lives, as long as we don’t hurt anybody” he stopped abruptly, unsure if he had said too much.

You shifted with discomfort at the unintentional sensitivity. Nobody can hurt me more than I can hurt myself, you chided, attempting to keep that thought as silent as possible.

“I’m sorry, that’s not…” he back pedaled slightly, embarrassed at the derailed attempt, but you hugged him fiercely around the torso, eliciting a grunt of admission.

“Keep going” you pouted, nuzzling your face into his neck.

“Okay…” he started over, clearing his throat. “I mean, I guess the person who probably understood me the most was MY mom”. You stopped breathing for a moment, uncertain if you should stop his narration, but desperate to hear his thoughts.

“I always liked her attention, but that’s like…a special connection. I was talking to a doctor one time and he said the times that we were separated were like…embedded in my body or something weird like that. I don’t know if I believe all that stuff, but…her love really shaped my life…” his voice broke haltingly, as he cleared his throat again, masking the emotion.

You sat up, swaying slightly at the head rush, mumbling something about getting more tea, but he grasped your upper arm sweetly. “It’s okay, just a few more minutes, I’ll get us some tea…”. You rested your head against the headboard, searching his brown eyes for a way to communicate your gratitude.

“It’s all kind of fragile. Kind of vulnerable. That’s love, and then life changes before you have a chance to notice” his lower lip wobbled with emotion as you placed your hand over his heart. You closed your eyes for a moment, smiling with approval. So much love. Everywhere. Ever-present.

He sniffled slightly speaking quickly as though afraid to stop “And sometimes it’s super confusing…the separation…the tension. The danger. I don’t really know how to reconcile that with…everything that happened. The funeral. Everything was so weird. How the universe could keep going when an entire world had stopped. It takes a really long time to feel safe again, within yourself. It’s just a lot…” he stopped suddenly a bit overwhelmed with reliving those particular memories.

“Thank you” you whispered, reaching up to catch the small tear threatening to cascade down his cheek. “She would be so proud of you” you said definitively, gripping the side of his face, finding the small heart-like patch in his beard.

“I hope so” he smiled, remembering easier times. “Be good to yourself and be good to others, right? Beeee gooooood…” he placed his hand over your heart, looking intently into your eyes.

“E.T.? Are you quoting E.T,. Mr. Cinema?” you joked.

“Maybe” he grinned, happy with your quick catch. “I mean, all that stuff was a long time ago, but sometimes I think, maybe I should talk to her more. Like we’re doing right now…” he sighed, yawning slightly.

“I think she’d like that. I know I do” you leaned back, still exhausted from the effort of thinking and feeling…and being.

“It feels silly sometimes, saying these things out loud. I like, think about her everyday and try to live it out. I don’t know, maybe that’s a kind of prayer, or a song or something…” he trailed off.

You smiled with joviality. “Is this the part where you start singing?”…

He poked you in the stomach as you crumpled in half, a little chagrined.

“Come on, you know I can’t sing”.

“You know it. I know it. But I’m glad that doesn’t seem to stop you…” you giggled, rubbing your feet together playfully. “Sometimes you’ve gotta find any way possible to express something, whether it makes sense or not”. Your attitude grew immediately somber again, sinking back into your seemingly inescapable mindset. Flitting your eyes back to his face your countenance took on a guilty expression. “Sorry I’m such a mess” you apologized.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to be okay all the time. There were a lot of things I wish my mom had said, but you’ve only got so much time…Once that person you love is gone, it’s so definitive. There’s everything we want, and then there’s reality, and all this space in between.”

You listened to the hum of the ceiling fan and faint sounds of the city as it began to wake up. Another day. You sighed shakily, trying to assemble your thoughts for the day. Work. Food. Responsibility. Shit. Therapy. That was today.

Pedge coaxed you lower on the bed, sloppily pulling the comforter up and over both your heads in a makeshift tent. “I guess we’ll just stay in bed. Nobody can find us here” he whispered. “Geez, it’s so dark, I can’t even find us here…” he laughed, fumbling around and messily planting a kiss on your chin.

Wouldn’t that be nice? God, what I wouldn’t give to just disappear, all of my feelings going with it. It’s not really fair that I’m here and she’s not.

“You don’t have to do anything, you know”. You heard his voice muffled in the pillow, as though reading your thoughts. “Life is just hard. Lots of striving. Trying. I’m kinda lazy, so this is an easy one for me…” you heard a smirk in his tone. “I just mean…there’s nothing to earn. We’ve got what we’ve got, and all we can do is enjoy it while we can. Before it disappears” he paused, unsure of your reaction, in the dark.

“I hear you” you nodded, willing yourself to consider another day and all the ramifications of that one simple step forward. It didn’t have to be a good day. Just another one. And then another. And then another.

“Most of the time I’m not even sure what I’m doing. It all feels like a big mistake, still wanting all that attention, and knowing it doesn’t last. But all those wants. All those feelings, I just pour it into what I’m doing so it doesn’t…hurt me as much” he finished gently, shifting on his back and wincing slightly.

“Sorry about the sleeping arrangements last night” you hissed, sliding a hand across the mattress, just under his lower back. “I don’t think that was recommended by AARP”.

“Ouch” he parried. “I’ve still got another year before that, thank you very much…”.

You stretched, catlike, feeling light headed and humming slightly.

“Do you want some food? I can make that tea…” he offered.

“Noooo, let’s just stay like this for a little forever longer” you whined, curling up next to him, thankful for the thoughts he had shared. Feeling yourself knitting back together slightly, at least enough to conquer the day.

“Fine by me” he yawned, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you close. Just two people. Surviving a day. Surviving a life. And trying to knit themselves back together.

Here is some beautiful artwork designed by Marsha Onderstijn and coupled with a Mary Oliver poem called "The Life of Death". I noticed it on the Insta and Pedro Pascal similarly liked...Blessings on our collective healing!

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...

Purple Rain (New York, New York Series)

You and Pedge go to the Brooklyn Museum of Art and Botanical Gardens. It's mostly a love letter to NYC and all us artists living the dream.

Triggers: profanity, discussion of orientation, reference to 9/11, lite smut, friends with benefits, RPF...

Series Masterlist

You were approaching your final week in the Big Apple and things were starting to come together. The show had finally progressed to a designer run, which happened to coincide with Pedro’s callback. You stood in the corner, fidgeting as family and friends cascaded into the small studio room and a table of creatives cast an intimidating presence over the entire proceeding. It was time. You were ready, but all the more nervous wondering what everyone would think. But honestly, there was only one opinion you truly cared about. You heaved a heavy sigh of disappointment, realizing THAT someone was missing, but desperately wanted to connect with your cast-mates before this final run. The cast gathered together for a quick circle-up, as the room began to silence in focus and artistry. Heading to your opening marks, you took a deep breath, closed your eyes, and gazing forward, happily saw a familiar figure sneak in through the closing door, quickly giving you a thumb’s up.

Pedge.

Merde.

Here we go…

The room had turned into a bit of a sauna, but the audience was gracious in their applause and congratulations as you hit your final bows. You made quick eye contact with Pedge, who gave you a wink and a nod, biting his lower lip with approval. Pausing before notes and feedback the room started to dissipate as cast members breathed a sigh of relief, ready to head into the out of town tech and eventual opening night. Pedge slung his backpack over his shoulder, shuffling towards you through a sea of excited individuals and laughing audience members. He approached with silent applause, mouth agape…

“Oh my gosh, you didn’t suck!!!” he joked, before crumpling under your playful barrage of punches and tickles. Gathering you up in an embrace and picking you up slightly he whispered in your ear. 

“That was fucking amazing. Way to go J” and your heart grew about three sizes. You breathed heavily in his arms, relieved that the most challenging aspect of the day was done. As he set you down, your eyebrows shot up to your forehead.

“Soooo…how’d it go? Am I watching you on Netflix AND HBO soon?” you clandestinely inquired, pulling Pedge over to a corner.

“Come on, this moment is about you” he deflected, but under your watchful gaze could see that you weren’t easily detoured.

“There were executives there” he chuckled.

“Really???” you squealed as he shushed you cautiously.

“Yeah, I must have missed that in translation. I thought I was just gonna be a place holder, but I was there for like an hour plus.”

“Geeeeeez” you intoned, nodding your head. “I’m already imagining the Narcos merch with your face plastered all over it”.

He rubbed his shoulder awkwardly, blushing slightly. “That doesn’t hardly seem likely” he rolled his eyes. “But it was nice to be taken seriously!” he leaned forward grasping you around the waist, “I think our scene work last night really made a difference”. You felt your heat twitch unexpectedly with the close proximity of his facial hair to your ear, and if the room hadn’t been so oppressively hot, you probably would have burst into goose bumps on the spot. You felt your face flush with arousal, hoping no one in the room would notice.

“I guess I have a job as an intimacy coach if this whole acting thing doesn’t work out” you smiled, locking eyes with him pointedly.

“Yeah, I might just have to utilize your personal expertise” he returned the smile as the production manager attempted to get control of the room.

“Okay, we are celebrating tonight, text me when you finish up. I’m taking you to the Brooklyn Museum of Art, and we can enjoy your last night in New York!”. Your heart dropped into your stomach, realizing the duality of the moment. You were excited to begin your big adventure but sad at the ever-changing landscape of the performance industry.

“Deal” you swallowed, thankful for the camaraderie and support, hoping he didn’t catch your eyes misting over with emotion. He kissed you on the cheek and made his way through the congratulatory sea of humanity. 

Your cast-mate immediately joined you in curiosity. “Ummm, who’s that cutie patootie?” he asked. “Bi, straight, boyfriend, husband, poly, trans, ace cookie?” he rattled off eliciting a small chuckle from you. You hadn’t really stopped to think about it during your quick friendship, and the theater crowd was a pretty…fluid…bunch. But catching Pedge’s eye before exiting the studio, he blew you a small kiss, as you and your cast mate both sighed reflexively.

“Who carezzzz?” you giggled simultaneously.

The day couldn’t have gone better, as far as you were concerned, but you found your mind wandering during notes and feedback. Final night in New York. Your heart lurched slightly at the realization that this magical leg of the journey was coming to a close. This wasn’t really a DTR moment, but how were you going to say goodbye? This entire trip had been bookended by an incredible friendship, and you couldn’t have been more grateful. You hoped Pedge was aware of that. Grabbing your script and notes you hurried out the door, heading back to your Airbnb to freshen up. You pulled a little purple sundress out of your suitcase, opting for boots over heels, having learned a painful lesson in the first week of slogging it through the Concrete Jungle. How were you going to say goodbye? It’s not like either of you had expected something different. Right? You tied your hair up with a colorful bow, texting Pedge to meet you at the Brooklyn Museum of Art in about an hour, and bounced out the door gleefully. 

You weren’t sure what constituted a New York state of mind, but this had to be close. The city had been nothing but welcoming to you, and after 9/11 it was so heartening to see the city back to its original fervor. You might have fallen in love in more ways than one, you beamed, heading down the stairwell to catch the train to the Brooklyn Museum of Art, wondering what expectations Pedge had, if any. This friendship had unlocked something inside of you that was exciting and new, but was it just another interaction in a city of strangers? You found yourself exiting the train station without entirely realizing how you had arrived at your location, besieged by thoughts and ruminations about what lay in store. Maybe you built up an entire New York fantasy in your own mind. Laughing in incredulity you exited the train station to find Pedge waiting at the entrance, hiding a bouquet of flowers and conspicuous balloon peaking out from behind his back. His beaming smile oscillated somewhere between boastful and shy as you took in his coifed appearance.

Lavender button down shirt, dark jeans, brown shoes, and a smile that would light up all of Time Square and beyond. You bit your lower lip in anticipation. Maybe you hadn’t misread the signals. Maybe this WAS something special. You swallowed dryly, nearly skipping up to him with excitement.

“It’s too much, right?” he blushed, outstretching his arms in supplication and shrugging placatingly.

“I think it’s just right” you hugged him around the waist, surprising him with your fervor. Looking up into his eyes, you held one another’s gaze for what felt like an eternity, moving closer and closer, like two small magnets. Just as his eyes fluttered shut, poised before your lips, a gust of wind blew the small balloon out of his hand and up into the stormy skies. He chuckled with surprise, grasping after it to no avail. Watching the little balloon drift higher and higher you questioned its surprising message dotting the horizon.

“Hope you feel better soon?” you giggled. “Is that all they had at Duane Reade?”.

“I meannnn….a designer run is a lot of work, I can only assume…we all want to feel better…all the time?” he laughed, tugging you around the waist and leading you into the Brooklyn Museum of Art. Handing off the flowers to an elderly couple on their way out you took Pedge’s hand, happy for these last moments in the city that had quite easily stolen your heart. This had truly been an amazing adventure, and Pedge had opened your heart to the wonders that could await someone living a life of freedom and creativity. The moment seemed to crackle with electricity, as you both spent the first thirty minutes, not saying very much. Stolen glances. Fingertips brushing. Blushing cheeks. It was all so delightful in its simplicity. Just two people. In a museum. Enjoying the moment.

Pausing in front of the Egyptian Collection you regarded his manicured appearance.

“You look real good, Pedge” you smiled. “Is there a special occasion?” you inquired.

He reddened slightly, tucking his hands in his back pockets. “Maybe. Wanted to celebrate your tour.” He rocked back and forth on his heels expectantly. “You did great today!” he smiled, deflecting the attention back on to you.

“Oh my gosh, you haven’t even told me about your callback!” your mouth dropped open with embarrassment, as a security guard shushed you. “And I didn’t even ask! I’m so sorry!” you whispered, “I want to hear everything!”

“Eh, not much to tell” he replied dolefully. “There WERE a number of executives there, which threw me off for a second. I don’t know why the agency didn’t mention that. Or maybe they did, and I was so nervous I forgot. We ran the scene, and it was fine, I guess. They only had a monitor, can you believe it? It was a good thing you and I rehearsed beforehand, it was like acting with a piece of cardboard this morning…” he rolled his eyes in frustration. “I don’t know how they expect us to elicit the kind of intimacy needed if I’m gonna be reading with an automaton!” he exclaimed, receiving a high spirited shushing from the same security guard.

You both started laughing profusely as you moved on to the American Art Display. Stopping in front of the “Unknown Woman” you gazed up at her enigmatic countenance and back at Pedge. “What do you think?” you asked light-heartedly, ready for another quick retort, but Pedge just kept staring and breathing deeply.

“I think…she knows something we don’t” he surmised, licking his lips tentatively.

“Really?” you questioned with curiosity, squinting into her unreadable facial expression, grasping at what little art knowledge you possessed.

“Yeah, she seems like…even though she’s mysterious, or translucent…or disappearing or something…there’s a contentment in that. She’s okay with it. She’s happy to just…be. Happy to be in the moment she’s in. Happy to be alive”.

“Yeah” you nodded, sighing deeply, and then, surprised to discover that Pedge was no longer looking at the artwork but gazing intently at you.

“Remind you of anyone?” you joked, dipping a finger into his front jean pocket and pulling slightly.

He took a jerky step towards you, nearly bumping into your chest. “Not off the top of my head” he teased quizzically, eyebrows arching up the ceiling.

You smiled with self-deprecation, feeling a shift in your tonality. “I’m sad to be leaving tomorrow” looking around the relatively empty room with a little melancholy and fidgeting with discomfort. “I’m not sure I could have done this without you, Pedge. Just a California girl, I guess”.

He brought his hand up, tilting your chin towards his, “My pleasure” he tutted “You just needed a little push. And a subway map! Geez woman, you DO get lost everywhere, don’t you?” he laughed, tucking that pesky lock of hair behind your ear once again. You smiled broadly without argument. It was true. Perhaps geographically challenged, but intuitively able to find exactly where you needed to be, and who you wanted to be with. Enjoying the journey just as much as the destination. You took his hand tenderly, bringing it up to your heart. “Well, not all who wander are lost. I just want you to know, I really appreciate it”. Momentarily dumbfounded, he smiled simply, bringing your hand up to his mouth for a quick kiss. 

Heading out of the museum, Pedge looked up into the stormy skies. “Geez, looks like New York isn’t entirely happy about your leaving” he pondered, biting his lower lip in confusion. “I’d thought we could go to the Botanical Gardens, but now I’m not sure!”. The sky rumbled with a bit of foreboding.

“Let’s go!” you exclaimed, pulling him forward amidst the steadily growing winds and darkening skies. “I’m not leaving without one more adventure!” He laughed appraisingly as you skipped down the street with abandon. Pedge had unlocked your heart in a way nobody else had. Who knows, maybe New York had something to do with that too. All you knew was that you were happy, you were grateful and you were ready. Ready for what, you weren’t entirely sure, but enjoying the journey as much as the destination. You headed into the Brooklyn Botanical Gardens feeling a few fat droplets of rain punctuate the ground rhythmically.

“So far so good?” Pedge questioned, breathing in the saturated grass and darkening sidewalks. You began strolling through the Fragrance Garden, Celebrity Path, Daffodil Hilll…

Pedge paused in his steps to cast his arms out to the side in frivolity. “We’ve got the whole gardens to ourselves!” he shouted, cringing upon hearing a booming, thunderous clap above him.

You brought a hand to your mouth in playful chagrin, wondering at heaven’s response. “We might be running out of time Pedge!” you shouted, walking backwards towards the Japanese Hill and Pond Garden. Pedro’s eyes widened to saucer size, running towards you and grabbing you around the waist before you nearly fell over backwards into the Koi Pond. You both started laughing hysterically as another thunderous BOOM! led to an immediate downpour. Giggling with surprise you grasped hands, slipping and sliding to the nearest botanical hot house and flinging the door open to humid, fragrant heat. Your laughter slowed to a halt as Pedge found both arms wrapped around your waist in dripping anticipation. The heavy patter of rain rhythmically lulled you both into a hypnotic silence as Pedge began swaying from side to side.

“What are you doing?” you whispered, unwilling to break the magnetic connection between you.

“Just wanted a dance” he whispered back, pulling you in closer and taking a deep breath at the crook of your neck.

“Pedge….” you allowed yourself a moment of enjoyment, listening to the rain pitter patter above you as heaven roared dully in protestation. “I’m leaving tomorrow….what does this even mean?”

He pulled back for a second taking your chin lightly between his thumb and forefinger. “It doesn’t HAVE to mean anything” he pondered, plastering a dopey smile across his face. “It’s just a moment, and we can decide whatever we want.” You smiled in recognition, giving in to any last minute hesitations and melding your body against his. Swaying back and forth you caught a quick refrain of his humming.

“Is that Prince?” you muttered into his shoulder, smelling his deodorant and cologne in a heady, rain soaked musk. Pedge suddenly pulled back abruptly, shaking you gently by the shoulders and shouting for high heaven, “ONLY WANT TO SEE YOU DANCING IN THE PURPLE RAIN!!!!”

Purple Rain

Your mouth dropped open in surprise before joining him, “PURPLE RAIN! PURPLE RAIN! PURPLE RAIN, PURPLE RAIN!”. You chuckled, lightly fingering the buttons at his lavender shirt, becoming slightly intoxicated on the seductive mist of rain, flowers and dirt. And then it was happening. You weren’t thinking. You were being drawn towards one another, without time, space or intentionality. You were kissing. You were breathing each other in and out. Lips locked in the wet ambition of desire, you drew your arms around him, tucking your hands into the back pockets of his jeans and grasping lightly. Pedge’s hips jerked forward in surprise as he grinned into your mouth with delight.

“What does THAT mean?” he joked softly, as a blush began creeping up your cheeks with embarrassment, noticing the stiffening length outlined against his pants.

“I think our intimacy exercises are paying off?” you tittered back at him, pressing in for another kiss before jolting with surprise. “Is that your phone vibrating, or are you just happy to see me?” you taunted, gripping his lower lip between your teeth gently.

“Soooooo not important” Pedge growled, dipping his tongue tentatively into your mouth, and then with more fervor.

“Pedggggge” you moaned, sighing contentedly and then pulling back. “It could be important…”.

He paused, with eyes closed, breathing deeply until you both met each others’ intense gaze.

“NARCOS!” you both exclaimed. Pedge fumbled for the phone, attempting to wrestle it out of his front pocket which was irritatingly rain soaked. You both clawed at the space, laughing nervously as the phone nearly slipped from his desperate grasp. You began jumping up and down, clapping your hands quickly in anticipation.

“This is Pedro Pascal, how may I direct your call?” he intoned with a devious smirk.

You stilled completely, trying to read every micro-expression. He turned his back quietly to you responding in almost conspiratorial undertones, “Really? Yes. Okay. Got it. Alright. I think I understand. Thank you”. And then the call was done.

He stood with his back to you, completely still as you swallowed loudly, frozen smile stuck to your face. “WELL???” you finally shouted, matched only by the corresponding BOOM that thudded heavily in the distance. You fixed yourself to rush into his arms in congratulatory embrace, until he turned with an unreadable expression save for the swimming pools of emotion in his chocolate-colored eyes.

“It’s a no” he said, a bit numbly, and in apparent defeat. “I didn’t get it”.

*Spoiler Alert: I feel like things might improve for our hero, but you don't have to take MY word for it.

Javi's Afterglow

A huge thank you to @auteurdelabre for our beautiful coloring book :) The last week has been so great for me personally. After six months of health challenges I'm finally starting to make some progress because of my own advocacy. But that also led to voicing uncomfortable conversations with friends and professionals, and that's tough. Lost a best friend. Paused a job. Pedge and I feel some stories ending, but I don't know which roads I'm excited to take alone. Maybe that can be the exciting part. With the end of every journey comes the start of a new one, and I've sat at home for long enough. Javi knows how to take the big swings, and so do I...

I've found elements of the POC Tumblr discussion very interesting, and as a queer Jewish woman there are some specific ways I want to celebrate and recalibrate. The first time I posted this artwork the color scheme was....off. It wasn't intentional, but somehow I didn't quite capture our Chilean sun-god and it kept annoying me. So I re-did it, and included one of my favorite Javi fics I've written for the Afterglow Series (#irony).

Let us all continue to fully experience Love to the best of our ability. And as Javi would say, "Whether you like it or not, you have a gift; and that gift brings light and joy to an increasingly… dark and broken world! And to turn your back on that gift is to turn your back on the… entire human race!".

And Pedge definitely feels that.

Dostoyevsky + The Dream

A huge thank you to @auteurdelabre for our beautiful Coloring Book! I hope you will check out Pedge's Bookshop, as this rendering is based on the integration of "Crime and Punishment" themes that closely resemble "The Last of Us". I was really hesitant to finish this series, but I wanted to complete before Season 2. I guess I'll head over to Pedge's Cinema, or start a one-shot Pedge's Bookshop for "What Happened to Belen"? In the interim, I hope you enjoy the art and a prescient quote from Dostoyevsky himself I found very appropro for our LOU ongoing lore...

“He was in the hospital till after Easter. When he was better he remembered the dreams he had had while he was feverish and delirious. He dreamt that the whole world was condemned to a terrible new strange plague…Some new sort of microbes were attacking the bodies of men, but these microbes were endowed with intelligence and will. Men attacked by them became at once mad and furious…Whole villages, whole towns and peoples went mad from the infection. All were excited and did not understand one another. Each thought that he alone had the truth and was wretch looking at the others, beat himself on the beast, wept and wrung his hands. They did not know how to judge and could not agree what to consider evil and what good; they did not know who to blame, who to justify. Men killed each other in a sort of senseless spite. They accused one another, fought and killed each other. There were conflagrations and famine. All men and all things were involved in destruction. The plague spread and moved further and further. Only a few men could be saved in the whole world. They were a pure chosen people, destined to found a new race, and a new life, to renew and purify the earth, but no one had seen these men, no one had heard their words and their voices.”

Pedge Tweets PedgeIsPunk

Pedge says he's a little embarrassed, posting on social media for the first time, and doesn't want anyone to think he is....Pedro Pascal. He's just an enthusiast, who has spent an inordinate amount of time...researching this beautiful boy. I told him that we can keep all our innermost thoughts to ourselves, but it's okay to enjoy the beauty of imagination at a distance. He couldn't agree more. Check out the Cuddle Couch if you like RPF...

Series Masterlist

*thanks LittlsMsMorales Art Shop!