Pedro-Tober #4

WIP: Pedge's Plays

Pedge and I have been having a lot of fun deconstructing books, movies and music as per the recommendations of Pedro Pascal. BUT we didn't set up a spot for THEATER! Pedge and I would love to deconstruct plays like "Angels in America", "I, My Ruination" and "Orphans". But I'm conflicted...

I'd definitely accept write-ins as well, but I'm staying away from Joel, Javi, Din and Cliff as I want to write for them in different genres...

This is the most personal series I've attempted so far, but Mark Twain says to write about what you know. I've been really fortunate to work in NY and LA with some of the same peeps as Peepaw and often wondered how often we found ourselves in the same buildings, the same subways and the same cities as we pounded the pavement. I feel so inspired by the artists around me and wanted to celebrate our continued journey. RPF series...

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

Episode One: The Big Apple Episode Two: The Audition Episode Three: Purple Rain Episode Four: The Big Goodbye (Finale)

Shorts:

Pedge Tweets Baby's Beats Moody Thespian

You twiddled your thumbs in nervous anticipation. There wasn’t anything to worry about. You had waited your whole life for THIS moment. You were as prepared as anyone could be. You’d packed a winter coat, hand sanitizer galore and zip lock bags for heaven’s sakes. The Big Apple wasn’t ready for YOU. You tightened your seat belt and looked out the plane window, marveling at the puffy clouds dotting the horizon. How did you arrive at the epicenter of your dream? A decade’s worth of auditioning and you were finally headed to New York City and were about to start your first Broadway National Tour. Maybe dreams do come true, you smiled, intent on ordering a celebratory champagne. It was all smooth sailing from here.

Ironically enough it was NOT smooth sailing from here, and it wasn’t until the plane started to level out that you noticed the heat emanating from your seat partner’s forearm, which you had locked in a death grip.

“You okay, there?” a low, honeyed voice dipped into your ear and your eyes tilted up to see brown pools of orbed concern above you.

Hello gorgeous.

You unlocked your hand from his arm, attempting to smooth over the finger markings starting to redden underneath.

“Sorry about that…” you mumbled, smoothing out your hair, brushing the dangling oxygen masks out of your face and rethinking that champagne order.

“Well that was unexpected!” he smiled broadly, twinkling with a charm that immediately shouted "actor". You swallowed dryly, watching people around you laughing with surprise and clapping in belated relief. “I’m Pedro” he reached over to pull a strand of hair out of your face with an intimacy that forced the breath out of your lungs. “And you are?”

“Uh…I’m J” you stammered, nervously attempting to roll the oxygen mask back into its compartment, but unable to quiet your shaking fingers.

“Here let me get that…” he reached up with a broad stroke that deftly closed the above compartment as he smiled with a sigh. “I don’t know about you, but I could use a drink.”

You covered your mouth, giggling quietly into your third champagne. “And the phone number was a NY area code, so I joked, "oh that must be Broadway calling"…..AND IT WAS!” you snorted uproariously as Pedro brought a jovial finger to his mouth to quiet you.

“Have you had anything to eat today?” he quarried, swallowing his own champagne. You hungrily watched his Adam’s Apple bob up and down. Hiccuping slightly, your cheeks reddened with embarrassment.

“Oh, sorry…I’m so nervous, and excited…” you burped quietly and started giggling again. “I should eat something, huh?”

“Let’s get some food in you, stat” he pushed the button for the flight attendant and took your glass before you accidentally dropped it.

“I’m sorry, I haven’t even…” you hiccuped suddenly… “…haven’t even asked very much about you…How do you find yourself in New York?” you swayed a little, unsure if the plane was moving sideways or you were.

Pedro brought a light hand up to steady your shoulder, smiling easily. “I’m an actor” he responded dolefully “…but I might be the only one that knows it” he shrugged, motioning for the flight attendant to bring 2 box lunches.

“Oh my gosh, do you sing?!” you practically shouted, unaware of the volume of your voice in these close quarters.

“Absolutely not!” he whispered. “Though, if pressed, I confess I did appear in ONE musical at OSCA, it was "Gypsy".

“Oh my god, did you go to OSCA? I almost taught there last year…” you whispered clandestinely, as though plotting a bank heist.

“Well that’s why YOU are appearing in a Broadway Musical and NOT ME” he argued, taking your box lunches from the flight attendant and gesturing to your bag of potato chips.

“I’m actually just coming from a gig in Croatia and it was like…a DREAM. I got to meet these incredible artists, and I had this amazing costume. They did a cast of my head! Geez, I always say too much, but I get so excited. Have you ever heard of "Game of Thrones’?”

Your mouth dropped open as you dangled a potato chip before your poised tongue. “Ummmm, I’m sorry, Game of Thrones? That’s a frickin’ big deal!” you crunched loudly on your disappearing snack. “Are you shitting me right now?”. You hadn’t seen any episodes since you couldn’t afford cable, but hordes of your friends were obsessed with the show, and given the chance, you thought you would be too.

“I know right?!” his eyes lit up like a little kid’s, sharing his secret treasure trove of discovery. “But it doesn’t air for like…FOREVER, and now I’ve just gotta go back to my survival job and start hitting the pavement again. And I can’t even talk about…anything. I’ve got an audition coming up and my resume isn’t even current…” he rubbed the back of his neck as you took a massive bite out of your turkey sandwich.

“Dude, I’m SO impressed” you mumbled, smacking your lips together whole-heartedly as he reached over to swipe a dollop of mustard from the corner of your mouth.

“Thanks, it really feels like I pushed through a wall or something. Nothing has changed on the outside, but everything is different on the inside, you know?” his eyes sparkled with intensity, meeting your gaze magnetically, as he brought his thumb to his mouth enticingly.

“I do” you hiccuped, wrapping your fingers around his wrist encouragingly, and then squeezing with affection, “I really do”.

You sighed contentedly burying your face further still into your pillow. This was a weird pillow. It was curved. And slender. And warm. “I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but your flight has landed” it said softly, cupping your face with one large hand.

You licked your lips as your eyelids fluttered open, blinking blearily at the blurry face that coalesced in front of you. “Do you need some water?” he squinted with concern, undoing your seatbelt and dragging a hand across your back.

“Ohhhhh” you sighed a bit too loudly, biting your lip with chagrin until you noticed that the plane was mostly empty. “Oh my gawd, have we landed?” the adrenaline pumped into your system as you bolted upright, nearly knocking your head into the above compartment.

“Careful!” Pedro cautioned, popping upward and doing the same. You both rubbed your heads with embarrassment, laughing slightly at the gaff. “Looks like we’ve arrived” he observed, gripping your hand and grinning with anticipation. “Welcome to the Big Apple!”

Standing nervously in the epicenter of Port Authority you felt like Little Orphan Annie. “Three bucks, two bags, one me” you muttered, under your breath, standing in the swirling vortex of humanity bustling around you.

“Do you know where you’re headed?” Pedro hefted his backpack over his shoulder, gripping a larger bag underneath his arm easily.

“I’ve got some friends in Brooklyn, they said to grab the Q?”

“Get outta town, that’s where I’m headed too!” he jerked his head towards the escalators as you trundled your pretty pink suitcase behind him.

“THANK YOU!” you shouted “I get lost EVERYWHERE I go!” you marveled at the buskers, fighting for attention in the echoing hallways. He beamed with pride at the city that never sleeps.

“I gotchu!” he nodded, grabbing your other bag and hoisting it over the turnpike, once you had purchased your subway pass. You fought the urge to clap your hands together excitedly as a subway loudly whooshed past you on the exit. A barrage of people purposefully stormed towards you as Pedro dodged out of their way with alacrity. You both made your way to the center of the pathway, nearly plopping down on one of the open seats before Pedro lifted you up by the elbow.

“Maayyyybe don’t sit there” he cautioned, eyeing the seat suspiciously and clocking the approaching Q train. You gulped with excitement seeing the rats scurry away from the vibrating rails and trash. 

“This is soooo cool…” you glittered, taking a deep fragrant inhale of mint, beer, urine and garbage.

“I know” Pedro concurred, drawing closer to the approaching train. “Now, it’s common curtesy when you board a subway to stand off to the side so people can exit first”. You nodded your head solemnly, intent to blend into the East Coast atmosphere. “And once you get onboard, most seats will be taken so stand close to the handrails and dig in with a really wide stance so you don’t fall over backwards with the momentum.”

“This is a lot different than L.A. traffic” you ventured, rolling your suitcase awkwardly to the front.

“Yeah, you’re not in the O.C. anymore” he chided, the train doors sucking open with piles of people pouring out.

“Let’s go!” he piped up, dragging you, your suitcase and your dreams right along with him into the overcrowded train, gently elbowing a path to the nearest open spot and hooking his arm around a handrail. “Hang on!” he reminded you, as the train lurched forward, nearly tipping you over your suitcase headfirst. A strong forearm gripped you around the waist and pulled you back to center before you bumped into the baby stroller next to you. “Surprise!” he tittered, nearly touching your forehead with his and scrunching his nose up playfully. “Gotta expect the unexpected…” he whispered into your ear sending a shiver down your spine.

A guardian angel, you thought. I’m living the dream. Three bucks, two bags and one me.

“I really can’t thank you enough for all your help!” you shouted into his ear as your stop approached.

“Oh my gosh, congratulations on your tour, it’s gonna be amazing!” he smiled, growing a little regretful at the end of your encounter.

“I can’t wait!” you reasoned, biting your lip hesitantly. Do you ask for his number? I mean, you kind of have your hands full with rehearsals starting and trying to navigate an entire city. That’s stupid, right? “And congrats on your upcoming episode, it’s gonna be EPIC!…I’ll have to get cable!” you joked as the train began to grind to a halt.

“So maybe I’ll see you around Brooklyn this week? Or Ripley Grier? Where are you guys rehearsing?”

“I’m not sure!” you shouted, gripping your suitcase excitedly as the mass of people pushed you out of the subway onto the platform. “See you around, Brown Eyes!” you called as the doors unceremoniously whooshed shut.

“Bye…” he mouthed holding up a hand placatingly, and miming a theatrical sob at your departure. You locked eyes joyfully as the train pulled out of the station, taking your newfound friend with it.

You sighed regretfully, hoping your paths would somehow cross again. You’d made it this far. And tomorrow, you had to learn how to hail a taxi.

Fantastic Four

A huge thank you to @auteurdelabre for our beautiful coloring book. It took me a second to get this man's hair color correct, but I think I'm pleased. Wanted to work something simple without a fic or attached prose...Can't wait for Fantastic Four!

The One With Racism

Triggers: This one goes strong, so if you're feeling sensitive, please avoid. Discussion of racism, misogyny, anti-semitism, queerphobia, spirituality, profanity, racist symbolism, SH, ideation, NC. Pedge the Therapist has RPF vibes, but he's just the avatar I use to discuss difficult topics.

Alright, Pedge is hiding in the corner trembling slightly, because I want to discuss our recent discourse around racism, but Pedge doesn’t want to. I’m reminding him that Pedro Pascal is delightfully vocal about his own beliefs, which we heartily subscribe to, but Pedge is still feeling a little shy, and that’s okay too. We finally went and read “the fic”.

To be more accurate, we skimmed the fic until we found the reference to the Confederate Flag. I appreciated the reader who gently questioned its inclusion, though I can no longer see the writer’s response. Being Jewish, I also resonated with the supposition that a swastika would be equally in bad taste, which I understand and agree with.

Having adored this writer for the last year+, I can’t claim to know them personally, but I feel I know something about literary style. This character is PURPOSEFULLY in bad taste and our main character gets off on using him sexually. The most I could definitively say is that I don’t find this type of situation appealing, but I can intellectually understand someone who might. Besides which, the main character is listed without ethnicity or physical description. So that means, I, as a Jewish woman, have the literary option to literally give a “fuck you” to this ridiculous fictional character. For me, this is equivalent to NC fics or SH which I find more personally appealing because I can explore these darker emotions in a fictional setting so I can bring them into the light, not hide them further in the shadows. I get to exercise literary control, and in regards to racism, that is something that many of us feel we lack. (*adendum; this was after I was alerted to its content, which was not specifically included in the triggers....)

I really think that’s what the author was trying to express. If you don’t think that, then please keep saying so, in as truthful a way as possible. Your experience is completely different than mine, and I want to hear about it. I didn’t read this fic when it came out because I don’t find this character appealing, and I didn’t find him appealing in the SNL sketch, but that's just me. As a queer Jewish woman, I experience anti-semitism, misogyny and self-hatred from within, and that’s what I have SOME control over and am currently working on.

Pedge and I also appreciated the discussion that ensued after, though I’m sad the writer left. They had already temporarily exited the fandom last year, so I think that’s an indication of many nuances happening behind the scenes that I can't comment on. The last thing I’ll say is the personal ways I’m interested in combating racism in my own life, since that’s the only thing I have dominion over.

-Go back and read my own fics and see if any can easily remove ethnic/gender descriptions and if I’m interested in doing that. I have already written some fics with that mindset.

-Continue to write for characters that are unique in the ways that I understand; Jewish, queer, “passing”, spiritual…and safely explore darker writing prompts regarding SH, NC and ideation.

-Continue to elucidate controversial or potentially hurtful topics in the listed triggers

-I personally don’t think it’s appropriate for me to write to the black experience, because it’s not mine. For me, that would be the height of arrogance to think I could articulate the intimate experience of my brothers and sisters. Other writers might be able to, but that feels inappropriate for me to even attempt it. I would rather read books by black authors, continue to chat with all of my friends about their personal experiences to inform my own, and support as many artists as I can in expressing the varied and beautiful creativity of the human condition.

-I will continue to support black, queer, Mexican, trans, gay, bi, handicap and other minority groups in whatever way I can creatively think of, as I continue to learn more.

Sigh. And if this writer should ever return to the fandom, I think we could continue to voice any concerns in the way our aforementioned reader did. Gently, and with love. Pedge is feeling very sleepy now, but he is reminding me that we don’t often see others the way they are; we see them the way WE are. And that should be as self-informing about our experience as anything else.

To read some more thoughts on the matter check out @whataperfectwasteoftime insights. I found it very comprehensive and thought provoking...

Pedro, Painter, Poet

Gosh, I don't know what happened. With all "The Uninvited" and "Gladiator 2" buzz, I wanted some special alone time with Marcus Moreno. Check out my recent fic, and I hope everyone has a glorious Thanksgiving! This boy gives us so much to be grateful for!

Ode to Gratitude by Pablo Neruda

Thanks to the word that gives thanks. Thanks to the gratitude for how excellently the word melts snow or iron. The planet seemed full of threats until soft as a translucent feather, or sweet as a sugary petal, from lip to lip, it passed, thank you, magnificent, filling the mouth, or whispered, hardly voiced, and the soul became human again, not a window, some clear shine penetrated the forest: it was possible again to sing beneath the leaves. Gratitude, you are medicine opposing scorn’s bitter oxides, light melting the cruel altar. Perhaps you are also the carpet uniting the most distant men, passengers spread out through nature and the jungle of unknown men, merci, as the delirious train penetrates a new country, eradicating frontiers, spasibo, joined with the sharp-cusped volcanoes, frost and fire, thanks, yes, gracias, and the earth turns into a table, a single word swept it clean, plates and cups glisten, forks jingle, and the flatlands seem like tablecloths. Thanks, gracias, you travel and return, you rise and descend. It is understood, you don’t permeate everything, but where the word of thanksgiving appears like a tiny petal, proud fists hide and a penny’s worth of a smile appears.

*transcribed for background in English/Spanish

*thanks @thecutestgrotto for the cool dividers!

The Audition:

This is Part Two of the New York, New York Series where I thought it would be fun to explore a realistic jaunt into the past. It's mostly self indulgent fluff, although just to be safe...

Triggers: fluff, lite smut at the end, saccharin sweet hand holding, alcohol consumption, descriptions of athletic (f) body, slight profanity, description of cigarettes, RPF re: Narcos audition

Lazily, you stretched your body like a cat, noticing your bedmate sprawled out next to you. Their pink button nose twitched with sensitivity as the morning light streamed in from the crusty window. You twisted your feet against the multi-colored quilt, blinking sleepily into the daylight. New York, New York. What a wonderful town.

Giving one final stretch you nuzzled your furry bedmate to happy purrs and biscuits and placed your feet on the cold wooden floor, padding down the hallway of your Airbnb. Standing at the kitchen counter you prepared the small metal espresso pot, cracking your joints noisily. Rehearsals had been a dream, but the wear and tear of New York foot traffic was nothing to scoff at. You’d met your creative team, perused the show sketches, started choreography, fell in love with your cast mates and moved into Ripley Grier. You’d even memorized the sketchy subway patterns and Thai Food take out locations, but you hadn’t done one thing.

Bumped into Mr. New York.

You licked your lips in anticipation as the espresso pot boiled in front of you. Pedro.

Pedge.

He seemed like more of a Pedge. Your guardian angel. That bumpy landing followed by a whirlwind arrival had almost completely derailed you in a New York minute, but something about those swirling orbs of chocolate-eyed concern had stuck with you. In a city that never sleeps it seemed almost ludicrous that you’d bump into him again. The cat delicately wrangled itself through your poised ankles as you poured a steaming cup of liquid energy into a chipped cup. But in the Big Apple, you smirked, anything can happen.

After two weeks of rehearsals things were going well, but they’d sent you further downtown for your final costume fitting and you had NO idea where you were going. The bustling underbelly of the New York subway system still had a certain romanticized grime, but WHY were you always lost? You nearly tripped over a discarded scarf and elbowed your way to the approaching train as your hair blew back in surprise at its gust of wind. Allowing the sea of humanity to exit you merged with the entering crowd and took your place, eyeing the suspiciously sticky puddle to the left of your feet. Assume the position; wide stance. Gripping the pole with one hand you took a deep breath and…there he was.

Face contorted in focused concentration and holding a nearly empty Venti Iced Starbucks Cup, along with loose leaflet pages, an iPod, phone and wallet. You smiled nervously, attempting to hone your skills of telepathy. If New York had taught you one thing it was to immediately seize every opportunity that presented itself, because the Big Apple waits for no one. You slid your way through a barrage of annoyed faces till your belly button was positioned nearly in front of his nose. You cleared your throat, but he remained buried in his concentration amidst the metallic, humming atmosphere. A busker began singing “Falling Slowly” and for one horrifying moment you considered disappearing into the masses, but noticing the large print on his cup, your curiosity got the better of you.

“Brown Eyes???!!!!” you exclaimed as his eyes darted up to your face with surprise. Dropping his pages on the subway floor, you nearly bumped heads trying to pick them up as a headphone now dangled unceremoniously, twisting in the air.

“J!” he smiled, brightening up the entire car as it slowed to a halt with a grinding crash. Having forgotten your wide stance, you nearly fell over backwards as he grabbed you by the front of your shirt and awkwardly pulled you onto his lap.

“Oops!” he blushed, pulling the other headphone out and beaming. “I wondered when I would see you again, how are rehearsals?”

Having temporarily forgotten your name and all manner of information you took quick note of the stubble dotting his chin and scent of something woodsy. Clearing your throat you stood up shakily, attempting to press your shirt down unsuccessfully. “It’s going great Pedge!”

…oops…

“Er…can I call you Pedge?” New York City: One, J: Zero.

“Of course!” he shouted patting the open seat next to him. Plopping down, your eyes took in the sides he was holding in his hand.

“Narcos” you nodded “intriguing”.

“Oh” he deflated a bit, rubbing the back of his neck. “I mean, I got a callback for tomorrow, but I can’t even get arrested, even after the…thing..” he lowered his voice conspiratorially, whispering into your ear, eliciting a small shiver.

“Well good, Narcos are supposed to arrest people, not the other way around” you joked. “Unless you’re playing a bad guy? What’s the scene?”

He chuckled light-heartedly handing over the pages, “It’s not the dialogue I’m worried about.”

Your eyes widened like saucers reading the lurid description:

Javier Pena and Helena are fucking on the living room couch. Liquor bottles and cigarettes sit in the foreground as the camera pans to their naked bodies. Javier finishes quickly, and eventually lays back on the couch to light a cigarette.

YOU nearly dropped the pages this time, reddening in embarrassment. “Are you playing Helena?” you coughed, watching his eyes sparkle before you.

“No, they said my tits were too small” he pouted, taking the pages back and smirking mischievously. You pursed your lips, attempting to hold back a laugh. Saucy devil.

“I mean, this is probably nothing compared to..the thing…” you repeated, referencing his recent GOT gig.

“It’s true, we had lots of nudity in that one” he agreed. “I’m pretty okay with it as long as I check with my scene partner, but this feels different somehow…” he trailed off.

“It feels more intimate” you surmised.

He winked, rolling the pages into a funnel and chewing his lip.

“They really should have somebody on-site to consult for intimacy scenes” you pondered. “I know I'm preaching to the choir here, but it’s about a lot more than just stripping and calling ‘action’! I’m never quite sure how to handle those auditions myself…”.

He nodded, bumping your knee with his and sipping down the final dregs of his espresso.

“Particularly with coffee…no wonder you’re so wired!” you pinched his knee sardonically as he crumpled with embarrassment.

“A man’s gotta eat” he huffed, pausing to think. “Wanna grab lunch?”

You’d never played hooky in NY, but your costume fitting wasn’t for another hour and Pedro pulled you through the epicenter of Times Square as you dodged a mostly Naked Cowboy and a dubious looking…Elmo? You tilted your head upwards, taking in the large marquis signs and towering hotels. “God, I hate Times Square” he muttered under his breath, weaving precariously through the tourists and tchotchke shops featuring every manner of “I Heart NY”.

“Shake Shack okay?” he nearly shouted into your face, gripping your hand tightly and moving forward at a breakneck pace.

“Sure!” you exclaimed, unsure of its significance, but excited to feel the vibe of the city. You could feel the pulse of his hand gripping yours, noticing a small tattoo in the crook by his thumb.

“It’s like “In and Out!” he retorted, “but even better! I know….sacrilege. You’ll thank me later, I promise…” whisking the door open and nearly shoving you inside. The rest of the day was a blur as one hour became two and two became four. You both raced into the costume fitting, still holding hands and giggling like kids. The repetition of the sewing machines and office talk immediately silenced you, as you made bee line for the fabulous individual wrapped in measuring tape and bright pink feathers.

“Darling, you’re 30 minutes late” they dead panned, eyeing you up and down suspiciously.

“I know I’m so sorry! I get lost everywhere I go! Is there still time for the fitting?” you panted, biting your lip apologetically.

“Come with me to the dressing room” they breezed past you with newfound amibition. “Your boyfriend can sit in the waiting area…”.

You gulped loudly, dropping Pedge’s hand with embarrassment. You looked over at him as he made a funny face. “Looks like I got the part” he chided, bopping you on the head with the Narcos sides and placing his hand on your lower back.

You felt your body temperature raise slightly as you headed into the backroom. Stepping into the curtained area you gawked at the gorgeous, red sequined dress hanging in front of you. Running your hands over the material you quickly ascertained its functionality. Breathable. Moveable. Wait, a minute. This plunging neckline was a bit too…plunging, as in, all the way downtown. Hmmm…Unable to reach the zipper in the back your eyes widened in concern.

“Move it or lose it honey!” the seamstress yelled, drawing the curtains back theatrically. “Let’s see what God gave ya!”. They pulled you into the center of the room as Pedge’s mouth dropped open in surprise.

Your black laced bra was fully visible through the non-existent front panel, and that one freckle on your butt cheek peeked out from the unzipped back portion.

“Sold” Pedge whispered with a graveled undertone, as the the seamstress arched a well manicured eyebrow to high heaven.

“Well that’s one way to sell tickets” they joked, yanking the zipper closed in the back as Pedge’s eyes darkened seductively. He cleared his throat, shifting with discomfort in the seat, and readjusting his pants with one hand.

“Looks good to me” he piped up, giving you a wink and twisting his mouth comedically.

“Thanks, boyfriend” you smirked, hoping your tits weren’t pointing directly through the fabric.

You floated through the rest of the afternoon in a dreamy hazy. They had released you from the day of rehearsal and Pedge convinced you to take a stroll in Central Park. Cyclists and kids dotted the hillside, and you couldn’t help but notice your hands seemed to brush together a lot in passing. Grabbing some ice cream from a nearby cart you found yourself uptown near the Metropolitan Museum of Art. About to step foot into the crosswalk a horse drawn carriage nearly bulldozed over you, as Pedge grabbed you around the waist protectively.

“We’re walking here!” he shouted, flipping the man off, and holding on to you a bit longer than was necessary. “You okay?” he asked, reaching up to wipe the ice cream remnants from the corner of your mouth.

“Never better” you smiled, lifting one foot slightly off the ground.

Meg Ryan, eat your heart out.

Pedge grabbed your hand as you walked into the massive, echoing chambers of the Met, grabbing your audio guide and museum map. “I prefer the Guggenheim, but the Met is unreal” Pedge beamed, ushering you into the Egyptian room with pride.

“I have decided…dat for the rest of the day…we are going to talk like dis” he whispered to you in front of the ceiling high paneled windows. “Waiter…”

“Waiter…” you smiled with acknowledgement.

“There is too much pepper on my paprikash…”.

You started giggling with delight until you both blurted out:

“But I would proud to partake of your pecan piiiiiiie!!!!”

Dissolving into fits of laughter you noticed a security guard clear their throat noisily in response.

“What, are we going to Katz's next?” you whispered clandestinely.

“I’ll have what she’s having” his voice dropped about an octave, grabbing you by the jean pocket and pulling every so slightly. Your breath hitched in your throat, noticing your close proximity. He didn’t break eye contact for so long you thought he might kiss you, but then he sighed heavily, dragging his hand across your abdomen. “Told you it was beautiful” he grinned, grabbing one of your fingers lightly and leading you through the open hall.

Sharing an audio guide, you were joined at the head, giggling in hushed overtones and pondering some of the classic art pieces. Walking into a room filled with ornate insignia and full bodied armor, Pedro twirled impressively, lunging forward with athleticism.

You took an embarrassed look around to make sure you weren’t catching unnecessary attention.

“I haven’t even told you anything about Croatia for GOT!” he exclaimed, a bit too loudly as you shushed him clandestinely. “There’s this scene for this MAJOR character that drives everyone nuts, and there’s an assassination attempt…” you covered his mouth with mouth hands smiling up into his face.

“Stawp!” I don’t even know the characters and you’re probably not allowed to talk about those details ya big goof!” you whispered, as he kept speaking in muffled tones into your hand. Darting his tongue across your palm you yelped with surprise. “Stawp!”

He grabbed your hand back and blew a stream of air over your fingers. “Do you want me to do a palm reading?” he asked, suddenly serious.

“Um, sure? Can you do that sort of thing?”

“Verrrrrry convincingly…” he joked, rubbing one finger down the epicenter of your hand. You shifted your weight tensely.

“I see an…interesting stranger in your future” he cocked one eyebrow up, bemused.

You rolled your eyes, poking him in the sternum as he chuckled. “What about money?” you pointedly asked, placing your other hand on your hip.

He closed his eyes dramatically, humming under his breath. You waited with anticipation, moving slightly closer, feeling the heat emanating off of his body. He brought your hand up to his forehead with bravado, “Zoltarrrr sayssss….actors never make…moneeeeeey” he chanted, opening his eyes to find you mere inches from his face. “Hi” he whispered, pressing his thumb into your palm and bringing it down to your side.

“I suppose there are things worth more than money” you mused, completely transfixed by his pouty lower lip. Watching his Adam’s Apple bob in his throat hungrily, you reached up and placed a hand to his neck feeling his feathery pulse intensify with the closeness.

“Nah” he broke the tension with a wide smile, giving you a quick peck at the corner of your mouth and running away like a kid in a candy store.

You stood with your mouth agape, beaming from ear to ear. Ah, the culture of art.

“Sick of me yet?” he questioned, caging you in against the vibrating subway door.

“Hardly” you yelled, covering your mouth in immediate embarrassment. “But what about your callback?”

His face registered slight shock for a millisecond, remembering the day’s events, and then shrugging his shoulders. “Eh, I’ll probably call my agent and bail. I don’t think I’ve got a shot in hell…” he reasoned.

“Nonsense!” you retorted. “I’m putting you to work immediately! You’re still in Brooklyn, right? We can grab some Thai and run your lines.” you tipped forward slightly with an unexpected bump, nearly brushing lips.

Pedge’s eyes sparkled mischievously. “You’re not gonna give me a line-reading are you?” he teased, pinching your chin lightly.

“Only if you suck” you wrapped your fingers around his wrist playfully. “I generally ask for compensation via foot massages”. Pedge glanced down at your feet with curiosity. “I think that can be arranged.”

“I haven’t…laughed this hard in years…” you wheezed, attempting to balance the Thai Food, wine and Pedge up four flights of stairs. Pedro dropped the keys in front of his apartment as you finally doubled over in laughter, tears streaming down your face.

“Stawp, stawp!” you pleaded, holding your stomach. “You’re gonna make me peeeee….”.

“Absolutely not!” he bellowed. “My landlord will fine me for that!” he burst into the apartment, trying to drag you over the threshold amidst your gasps for air.

“We haven’t even started drinking yet…” you barely managed to get out, crawling down the hallway to what seemed like the bathroom. Returning to the kitchen a few moments later, Pedge had grabbed some paper plates and opened the two buck chuck.

“Bon appetite!” he smiled gesturing broadly to the delightful spread as you took in the meager New York residence.

“Very bachelor pad” you teased, poking him in the ribs and gazing at the futon, clothes rack and piled books. “Okay Mr. Bibliophile” you observed, catching the titles of “The Color Purple”, “Meisner On Acting” and an art book on Rousseau.

“It’s no Versailles, but it’s home” he grinned, taking a large bite out of the crab rangoon.

Inhaling your Thai Food, you were already two glasses of red wine in, and had to remind yourself to slow down. You were just having so much fun, talking about character development and fighting over the last spring roll.

“Do I have to goooo tomorrow?” he whined, plopping down on the couch with faux theatrics. “Couldn’t we just…go to another museum? Oooh, have you ever been to Lincoln Center? Or Sardis?”

“No, no, no” you laughed, sitting opposite him on the couch and gazing intently into his eyes. “Do you think you have it memorized yet?”.

He turned his body to face yours, returning the intensity of your focus. “It’s not like there was a lot of dialogue” he reminded, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear tenderly. You swallowed dryly, feeling the happy effects of the wine buzzing around in your head. Curling your legs underneath you and resting your hands definitively on his quads you lectured.

“As you know, film and television has a much more intimate intensity than the performative styles of the theater…”

His eyes widened with acknowledgement “Thank you Professor J…”.

“Shuddup!” you giggled, continuing. “The most important thing you can do to maintain emotional intimacy for the camera is body language, communication and eye contact…” you informed, licking your lips and concentrating on his.

“Is that so?” he leaned in, returning your gaze and starting the scene.

“We get better every time we practice” he placed his arms on either side of your legs, moving in closer.

“You’re amazing Javier” you drolled, smirking sardonically.

“Well, don’t go overboard” his eyes darted down to your wine stained lips as you tipped backwards onto the couch.

“What you’re missing in this apartment is a woman” you teased, pulling him gently forward and straddling his torso with your knees.

“It’s fine the way it is” he rasped moving his head down to your sternum and placing a small chaste kiss across your midriff.

“Good…blocking” you managed to whisper. “Improvisation is…essential” you ran your fingers through his hair gently.

“What are you doing this weekend?” he intoned into your chest, now nibbling at your solar plexus.

Your breath came in shallow bursts, as you tried to remember your lines. “Uh….work or play?” you muttered, as the lines between lines blurred hazily.

“Ven aqui” he looked up, drawing his hands up the sides of your body slowly and pausing to cup the back of your neck.

“What?”

“Dame un beso” he drew one finger across your lower lip seductively, resting his body weight carefully atop you.

“I think that’s my line” you sighed.

Time seemed to stand still as you both held the moment, intently.

“I think tomorrow…you have a very good chance…” you smiled.

Pedro Boys

Pedge and I have FINALLY started writing fics for the Pedro Boys and we wanted to have a spot where they could all catch up! Check out the masterlist below!

Pedro Pascal Pedge Cuddle Couch New York, New York Series Baby's Beats (short) Javi Gutierrez Afterglow: Phoenix Rising Marcus Pike Charcuterie Challenge A Different Happy Ending Pike's Place Pike's Playlist (short)

Frankie Morales Moody Frankie Frankie's Favorites (short) Joel Miller Moody Joel Peach and Apple Pie Crime and Punishment Joel's Jives (short) Max Phillips Blood Sucking Witch Max's Mix (short) Javier Pena Afterglow Series Pena's Playlist (short) Dieter Bravo Yes Chef! My Darling Muse Dieter's Deets (short) Marcus Moreno Thanksgiving Delights Din Djarin Unmasked Platonic Love

The Boxing Match (PTMAM)

The campaign from 2023 caught my attention and greased the imagination wheel. While our romp took an unexpected turn, everyone left, satisfied in the END...

Triggers: Smut, rough-housing, bumps and bruises, playful strangling, dom/sub discussion/dynamic, hair pulling, M/F description

“Hey babe, I’m home!” you shouted from the doorway, noisily dropping your keys in the nearby ceramic and immediately removing your fragrant sneakers to air out. You LOVED your gym time, and today it showed. Your hair was hidden under a baseball cap and you were already vibrating from your post work out cold brew. The adrenaline was pumping and you wanted somewhere to put it. Breezing past the living room mirror with abandon you found Pedge in his nook of choice, having temporarily abandoned the book in his lap, eyes glazed over with rapt attention on the television.

“Good lookin’! Watcha got cookin’?” you grabbed the book, depositing it unceremoniously on the floor and unexpectedly straddling his lap. He doubled forward in surprise, grabbing you around the waist before you both fell over, grunting in amusement.

“Sorry” you blushed “I’m a little wound up…” Licking your lips you tasted the salty perspiration above. He smiled, removing your baseball cap as long, sweaty tresses revealed your hat hair. “I can see that.”

“Noooooo…” you wriggled on his lap playfully, grabbing the remote and turning off the tv.

“Good work out?”

“Yeah…” you drawled, suddenly embarrassed about your planned monologue. You always had lots of time to think on the treadmill, and plenty of blood pumping music to get you in the mood. By the time you arrived back home, Pedge often found you in a state of…agitation, but this time you were a woman with a mission, and it definitely involved him.

“Babe?” he questioned, pinching your lower lip between his fingers and pulling. “Getting a little quiet over there, anything you want to share with the class?”

You pouted, ever impressed he could seemingly read your every thought. “Well…I was reading this book…”

He leaned back in the recliner with a laughing sigh, just short of rolling his eyes, and moved both hands to your quads, holding you in place. “Yes?” You cleared your throat, suddenly nervous and rethinking your plan of attack. Your stomach made an awkward gurgling sound as you clasped your hands over your torso, embarrassed. 

“Did you eat, yet?” he reprimanded, poking your belly button as you crumpled a little bit, giggling.

“No, I did not, my mind has been otherwise occupied if you must know….I was reading this book last night…and…it got me thinking…”

“Yes?”

“It got me thinking…about the Dom/Sub dynamic…”

“I gotta say, I’m really enjoying this recent academic pursuit of yours” he stuck one finger down your sports bra, bringing you a shade closer to his chest. Your heart began beating wildly as his finger dipped between your breasts, drawing his index finger back to his mouth and sucking on it voraciously. Excellent cardio. Losing whatever inhibitions you were saving, you blurted out “Let’s get rougher”.

Pedge’s eyes sparkled to twice their normal size, before taking on a blackish quality as he dead panned, “You vant me to suck your blood? AAAAAGHGHGHG!” comically sinking his teeth into your neck and nipping at your skin. You pounded his back, giggling fiercely, “STAWP! I’m serious, Pedge!”

He stopped his oral fixation long enough to return your gaze, now nose to nose. “Tell me more, hermosa. Ground rules, please.” You returned his energy with a low growl, furrowing your brows in faux consternation and then lightly biting his lower lip. That seemed to get his attention as you felt his hips shift beneath you, squirming slightly. You continued;

“You know, I don’t have any brothers…”

“Um. This is taking an unexpected turn.”

“Shut up, I don’t have any brothers OR sisters. No sibling rivalries, never really did sports, so running and dance were my main…physical expressions. And kick boxing!”

“You want to kick box?”

“Noooo…” you whined moving off his lap and sitting on the floor with exasperation.

Pedge leaned forward in his seat, now pouting on your behalf. “Babe, you’ve gotta use your words. Are we talking about role play, here? I mean, I love a good character arc. I can be the trainer, you can be the boxer. Or….I can be the sexy burglar, and you can be the sexy policewoman. Options, give me options…”.

You smiled at his endless attempts to entertain and lighten the mood. He lowered himself down to the floor and perched above you. “Do you want me to overpower you? Feel how strong I am?”

You paused, a growing awareness drifting over you. “I think I want to feel how strong…I…am!”

He grinned broadly before feigning collapse, and dropping his dead weight on top of you.

“Ooof! Pedge!” you grumbled, eyes popping. Not right this second! I just had a cold brew you big baby! I might pee all over you!”

His muffled voice vibrated into your sternum, “Mm ‘xcitd to ‘xplre tht toooo…”.

You tickled his ribs and stomach as he rolled over giggling into a ball. “REALLY? REALLY?” you laughed, now straddling him on the floor and pushing his arms up over his head. You paused to gaze at his contented expression, peppering kisses over his beard, lips and nose. “I don’t know, I’m such a weirdo. It’s not like I’m really afraid of hurting you, I just don’t know what my physical limits are…like…with myself. I need somebody safe to exercise them.”

“You just came from the gym, and you want MORE of a work out?” he teased.

“What can I say, I’m committed to our mutual health” you chuckled, circling your hips lightly over his gray sweatpants.

Pedge stifled a moan, biting his lower lip and grabbing your legs again. “Okay, so Dom/Sub dynamic? You want submission. That’s not gonna be hard for me…”

You pursed your lips together mischievously looking at the blush crawling up his sinewy neck, veins pulsing with excitement. “You seem plenty hard, mister. But…no…”

You paused your gyrations grasping his hands and pushing against them.

“Am I bench pressing you, now?” he seemed genuinely confused, if not curious.

“No, you goofball! It’s pointless to test my strength against pure acquiescence. Iron sharpens iron. I need a push back!”

“YOU VANT ME TO SUCK YOUR BLOOD!” he bellowed, grabbing your hair at the nape of your neck and licking a strip of salty seduction up your sternum.

You rested your hands on his stomach, rolling your eyes, but slightly distracted by the very tempting offer. Fingers moved to his waistband and untied the drawstring, as his kisses slowly became more languid, finally locking onto your lips, moving his mouth against yours. It never took much to disarm you, particularly when you were already so wound up, and your mouth parted easily for his tongue to lick hungrily inside.

You palmed his hardening length over the sweatpants, and delicately reached inside to assess the situation. Moving lower, you found his balls and gave a quick tug, as his breath caught in his throat.

“Please tell me you didn’t learn that at the gym…” he strained, starting to swell a bit more.

Your hand began moving in a circular motion, watching his eyelids flutter shut in response. After working his length for a bit, you gave another tug…

“Honey, you do that a third time, we’re not even gonna make it to the bedroom” he confessed, a little chagrined.

You clamped your thighs down on his hips, moving your other hand to the divot right below his Adam’s apple, grasping the back of his neck with your fingers. “Tell me to stop” you threatened, dragging the inner flesh of your lower lip across his throat. Pedge swallowed hard attempting to answer but it caught in his chest with a low growl. “Now who needs to use their words?” you teased, but were met with a mirrored hand to the throat, which nearly encapsulated it entirely. You locked eyes with one another for a split second.

“Bedroom”.

A steady stream of clothes could be found from the living room to the bedroom as you stickily helped one another out of your apparel. Tripping, stumbling, laughing and grasping you finally made it to the bed, squaring off, both completely naked.

“You’re never allowed to wear a sports bra again. That was like peeling a cantaloupe with my bare hands” he joked, grabbing you around the waist and squeezing hard. It nearly knocked the breath out of you, so you reached around with both hands, grabbing his ass.

A sudden intake of air as he clenched, knocking his length into your clit which sent an electric shock through your entire body. You threw your head back with enjoyment, as he caught you at the base of your neck, nibbling at your breasts. “I’m gonna bruise you like a peach if we’re not careful…”.

“Fine by me” you growled “I can give as good as I can take…”. You brought your forearm up to his neck, pushing him back on the bed, falling into him sloppily.

“Ow!” he cried, knocking into the headboard slightly, rubbing the back of his scalp.

“Oh babe! Shit! I’m so sorry!” you gasped, running your hands through his hair and checking for pain.

His eyes glazed over confusedly, “Where em ah? Who are all these peepel? Why am I wearing papah?” You began giggling quietly. 

“Really? SNL? That Emmy shoulda been yours…”

He smirked, “First rule of rivalry, there are going to be a few bumps and bruises, but don’t let that throw…YOUR GAME!” he grabbed you around the waist, flipping your body over onto the bed, towering above you.

“Babe. That was SMOOTH. Wait. Did you hurt your lower back?”

He nodded, “Totally worth it”. Sinking his lips into yours and kissing you fiercely, you grabbed his love handles, migrating your hands lower and lower and lower…till your finger grazed over his perineum.

A small whimper left his lips tentatively. You paused.

“Did…we like that?” you ventured.

He pressed his lips tightly together with saucer like brown eyes. “Maybe”.

“Maybe, I should get the lube and keep an open mind or…we should take this party into the shower and try not to slip and slide?”

For once, you had struck the man dumbfounded, as he seemed to temporarily short circuit with available options. You slowly reached over to your bedside table to grab the lube, squirting a small amount on your fingers. 

“Baby, if you’re still with us, I want you to talk with your body, and Ima listen, K?”

His eyebrows relaxed a little as he silently nodded. Opting for distraction, you latched onto his lips, all teeth and tongue, moving your jaw with his. You reached underneath, looping your hand to his backside, and tentatively probing. His mouth fell open in delight as you massaged his opening up and down.

Moving your head down his mid-drift, kissing a trail from sternum to shaft, you sat eye to eye with his length, smiling deviously and planting a small kiss at the tip. HIs eyes shot open with surprise. 

Quivering with sensation he seemed already wrecked, “Babe…you hate that…”

“All’s fair in love and war” you thought, swirling your tongue in a circle that coincided with your probing finger. Pulsing in and out you took his tip in your mouth and began sucking with abandon.

Attempting to memorize the symphony of cascading profanity and lewd sounds that filled the room, you kept swirling and swirling in a circular motion. Admittedly you were both in completely uncharted territory, but you weren’t hearing any complaints. Trying to fit him further and further into your mouth you relished the salty musk that permeated your senses, now moving your finger in past the knuckle.

“Ohhhhhhh….” he sighed, mouth hanging open in ecstasy. “Honey, I’m not totally in controooool….right now…” he managed to eek out, as you bobbed your head up and down in conjunction with your finger.

You sighed contentedly, nodding your head in approval which only intensified the situation. Delicately sliding in a second finger with a scissoring effect you felt him tighten up in anticipation.

“Ohhhh, where do you want meeeeee?” he questioned, already flying high. Joyful with pride and satisfaction, you only managed to get out a small “Mmmmm…” before he was emptying inside your mouth. Quickly pulling out both fingers and moving your hands to the sides of his hips you swallowed and swallowed and swallowed as fast as you could, surprised at the salty liquid gold settling in your stomach.

Once his pulsing slowed to a halt, you pulled your mouth off his length with a satisfying pop, eliciting a small gasp from him before you both collapsed onto the bed in euphoria.

“That was new…” you rasped, licking your lips for the final dregs. You languidly turned your head to the side, checking in on your sparring partner. He was totally blissed out, smiling foolishly and rubbing his hands through his hair.

“What…just…happened?” he blearily asked, eyes heavy with the afterglow.

You winked, “Ready for round two?”

Pedge, Painter, Poet...

I feel like Dieter's expression communicates my evolving thoughts on this piece. What can I say? I like it for Bi Visibility week? And I certainly like it better than the small cold I procured this weekend...

PedgesJukebox

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

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

Series Masterlist