PB + J

The Trailer; All About Eve

Trailer: Inspired by the @auteurdelabre VHS Club, we are going to deconstruct these favorite movies and write some analogous fics taboot. Javi will be our theatrical custodian, but other Pedro Boys might join us for cameo appearances....

Concessions Stand: Don't forget to grab your sweet treat before heading into Pedge's Cinema. Check out "The Unbearable Weight of Perfection" by @wardenparker which should fit the bill nicely....

Triggers: This was a lot more complicated than I realized; spoilers for "All About Eve" (dialogue usage), no smut but romantic situations, discussion of ageism/misogyny, male infantilism if you squint (?)...

Series Masterlist

Word Count: 5k

The week of acclimation had blearily raced past in happy contentment, and most of that was due to your newfound friendship with Javi. Italy was a close second. Since that first fateful encounter at the local movie house, you and Javi had become fast friends. Setting up a happy rapport of tourism and conversation had motivated the entirety of your summer stay. Every single morning, Javi arrived with two espressos, occasionally befriended by the local pastry options and after reviewing the evening movie choices, Javi would whisk you to the first of many cinematic locations. Visiting Venice and hearing about “Three Coins In the Fountain”. Touring the Vatican and talking about “Roman Holiday”. And enjoying gelato while Javi waxed philosophical about the Italian centered Nicholas Cage movie “Time to Kill”…which was actually about Ethiopia. Your friendship was like something out of a movie, and you relished every morsel of it. But this had done nothing to prepare you for the start of your Summer Internship. Having flitted away this “week of preparation” you found yourself on the doorstep of your next excited academic exploration, with little to no idea of what it might entail.

“I think we should take the students to all of these important cinematic locations!” Javi exclaimed, plopping down on the living room couch and beating clouds of dust out of the nearby pillows. Coughing and sputtering in allergic response, you opened the nearby veranda windows to the sunlight of the day.

“Are you my newfound TA for these events?” you jested, sipping your espresso tentatively as Javi had already inhaled his.

“Absolutely! Would you like that for your first day of class, Principessa? You don’t have to tell me how nervous you are…” Javi pouted, drawing the pillow up to him like a baby he was trying to cuddle. You stomach lurched with excited anticipation. You WERE nervous to meet the students and begin classes, but you were also excited to be working with your colleagues and gaining artistic insight into the rich history of cinema and storytelling.

“That’s VERY sweet of you Javi, but I know you have your big meeting tomorrow. I don’t want you to miss it…”.

“Are you talking about my very important industry meeting with international superstar and personal friend, Nicholas Cage?” Javi’s smile delightfully curled at his lips as you sat across from him on the couch, playfully propping your feet up on his lap.

“Oh I’m sorry, are you friends with THE Nick Cage?” you taunted, poking him slightly in the stomach and watching him crumple with embarrassment.

“Don’t tease me Principessa, we’re just meeting on the Skype. Besides, I’m still waiting for you to read our screenplay. I want all of your thoughts on the narrative quality of our story. Of course, Nicholas Cage will star” Javi’s eyes widened to an imploring gravitas as you shook your head with incredulity.

“I AM excited to read it Javi, but you haven’t given me half a moment! We’ve been bouncing from one tourist attraction to another…not that I’m complaining” you observed, rubbing your calves mournfully from all the walking Europe seemed to motivate.

“Would you like for me to recite it, right now?” he questioned, reaching over to massage the base of your foot, before you dissolved into a fit of laughter at the tickling sensation.

“I kind of hate to say this, but I think you need to go away for the next few hours. I need to plan my curriculum, organize my collegiate schedule for colleague introductions and…apparently read a screenplay this afternoon” you launched a pillow good-naturedly at Javi’s head as he began to sulk.

“But we have not yet been to the Trevi Fountain!” Javi lamented, collapsing against the couch dramatically and closing his eyes forlornly. “Perhaps we should watch “La Dolce Vita” this evening for our cinematic selection?”.

“Ah, no, no, no! You promised me we could begin with my teaching curriculum, starting with the Hollywood classic, ‘All About Eve’” you threatened, poking Javi once again and eliciting a small growl of protestation.

“I DO like Betty Davis, though she’s no Nicholas Cage” Javi retorted, setting a heavy hand on your upper thigh, as you attempted to stifle an unbidden shiver. “Very well Principessa, I will leave you to your cinematic studies, now appropriately fueled by the caffeinated nectar of the gods. What culinary selection would you prefer for this evening’s festivities?” Javi stood abruptly, towering over you at nearly six feet tall.

“You better bring the martinis and milkshakes, I’m going to procure a pizza from the trattoria down the street” you salivated, looking towards the kitchen with skepticism.

“Milkshakes?” Javi wondered, jaunting towards the door and grabbing his jacket from the nearby chair. “I will endeavor to bring the gelato…” he jovially saluted you, emphatically pointing to his screenplay situated on your kitchen counter and bouncing out through the foyer.

Javi was a ray of sunshine that never seemed to dull, his energy and iridescence was quite contagious. You only hoped all of your relationships would prove so fulfilling during this summer internship. If there was one thing you knew from your love of a masterpiece like “All About Eve”, professional challenges seemed to be hiding around every corner, and no sooner were friendships found, then they were immediately questioned. You prided yourself on your ability to ascertain someone’s intentionality, but would your colleagues be just as welcoming as someone like Javi? Only time could tell. You took your espresso over to the counter and picked up Javi’s screenplay as a curriculum amuse bouche. Let’s get to work…

The day passed quickly as you assembled your talking points for tomorrow’s class and skimmed Javi’s rough draft. You were delighted to discover it was quite good. Slightly meta, and self-deprecating. It would give Nicholas Cage a delightful opportunity to poke fun at his eccentric self. You couldn’t imagine anyone but Javi playing the autobiographical role, but Hollywood would probably find some young 20 something to play the 40 something and call it a day. Pausing to grab a fresh margarita pizza from the local trattoria you caught Javi walking up to your villa, grocery bag in hand.

“Bona note, Principessa!” Javi sang out, as the children raced past, chasing a futbol down the cobblestoned street. “I have returned with flowers, gelato and vodka, the holy triumvirate!” he greeted you with the traditional European kiss across both cheeks as the blush heightened across your freckled face. “We have much to discuss!”

You smiled with anticipation as Javi immediately launched into a descriptive analysis of the screenplay, drawing your attention to several of the analogies you hadn’t noticed. You had just queue’d the dusty DVD to start playing “All About Eve” as Javi synopsized.

“And so you can see how the relationships ARE similar. The protege, desperately desiring validation. Surviving in a world of distrust, ambition and greed. Not knowing where to turn and feeling that youth slipping away like time itself…” Javi gestured dramatically before eyeing a few of his own sun-soaked wrinkles with skepticism. “So many insecurities in our 40’s…” he sighed, raising a glass of vodka infused gelato before settling further into the couch after dinner.

“You’ve really written something marvelous for Nicholas Cage to star in” you agreed, toasting Javi’s milkshake martini concoction with curiosity. “Is that how your friendship really came about?” you questioned, as the memorable soundtrack by Alfred Newman lilted in the background.

“That is for me to know, and you to discover! What is cinema, if not ILLUSION?!” Javi bellowed, pinching at your leg flirtatiously and smiling broadly. “Fasten your seatbelts, it’s going to be a bumpy night!”

The voice of George Sanders intoned in the background,

“To those of you who do not read, attend the theater, listen to unsponsored radio programs, or know anything of the world in which you live, it is perhaps necessary to introduce myself. My name is Addison DeWitt. My native habitat is the theater. In it, I toil not, neither do I spin. I am a critic and commentator. I am essential to the theater. Margo Channing is a star of the theater. She made her first stage appearance at the age of four in Midsummer Night's Dream. She played a fairy and entered, quite unexpectedly, stark naked. She has been a star ever since. Margo is a great star, a true star. She never was or will be anything less or anything else”.

“Betty Davis is quite nearly as big a star as Nicholas Cage” Javi whispered beside you, munching on the final piece of pizza. You smiled quietly, relishing his artistic obsession. You would have thought he would demand cinematic silence, but Javi’s movie enthusiasm was often as unbridled as his general lust for life.

“She must have learned a lot from his pantheon of work” you scoffed as Javi gently nudged you in the side with his elbow, shushing you ineffectively.

“Think me cynical, if you like, but the cynicism you refer to, I acquired the day I discovered I was different from little boys! Bill's thirty-two. He looks thirty-two. He looked it five years ago, he'll look it twenty years from now. I hate men” you moved your mouth in conjunction with Betty Davis as she lamented the joys of industry aging. “I'm not twenty-ish, I'm not thirty-ish. Three months ago I was forty years old. Forty. Four O. That slipped out. I hadn't quite made up my mind to admit it. Now I suddenly feel as if I've taken all my clothes off.”

God, you loved this movie. You looked over at Javi, his eyes shining affectionately as the screen flickered light across his joyful face. A fellow afficianado. “You know, if you wanted to come by after your meeting tomorrow I could use the help. I AM actually a little nervous” you admitted, looking down at your gelato hesitantly.

“Oh Principessa, I would love to!” Javi met your eyes with encouragement. “You are already supporting me in my cinematic endeavors, I would also love to support yours!” he beamed.

You snuggled up beside him, soaking in the exposition by Joseph Mankiewicz;

“The theatre. The theatre. What book of rules say the theatre exists only within some ugly buildings crowded into one square mile of New York City? Or London? Do you wanna know what the theatre is? A flea circus. Also opera. Also rodeos, carnivals, ballets, Indian tribal dances, Punch and Judy, a one-man band, all theatre. Wherever there's magic and make-believe and an audience, there's theatre. Donald Duck, Ibsen and The Lone Ranger. Sarah Bernhardt and Betty Grable, all theatre. You don't understand them all. You don't like them all. Why should you? The theatre's for everybody, you included, but not exclusively. So, don't approve or disapprove. It may not be your theatre, but it's theatre for somebody, somewhere.”

“Did you know that the Mankiewicz brothers were both famous for their literary ability?” you whispered, as Javi remained quietly at your side. “Herman Mankiewicz gained notoriety for Citizen Kane…”. You paused, surprised by Javi’s uncharacteristic silence. Eve Harrington, the antagonist of the movie continued on;

“If there's nothing else, there's applause. I've listened backstage to people applaud. It's like - like waves of love coming over the footlights and wrapping you up. Imagine, to know every night that different hundreds of people love you. They smile, their eyes shine, you've pleased them. They want you. You belong. Just that alone is worth anything”.

“You’ve got to give it to her, she is DEFINITELY passionate, if not unscrupulous” you teased, waiting for Javi’s retort and hearing none. You looked over at Javi to see if he had fallen asleep, but his countenance had taken on an uncharacteristic solemnity that concerned you. “Hey, you okay over there, Shakespeare?” you sat up slightly, watching his brow furrow with consternation.

“Oh. Um, yes, forgive me principessa, just….thinking” he muttered, gripping his knees fixedly and staring at the television screen. Had you done something wrong? Maybe he didn’t want to cuddle on the couch, but wasn’t saying so. You scooted a few inches away, drawing your hands into your lap with disappointment. Glancing at his side profile you watched his Adam’s apple bob tensely as he swallowed hard. What was going on? Betty Davis monologued,

“So many people know me. I wish I did. I wish someone would tell me about me, outside of my own notoriety. What’s in a name anyhow? What is it, besides something spelled out in light bulbs, I mean - besides something called a temperament, which consists mostly of swooping about on a broomstick and screaming at the top of my voice? Infants behave the way I do, you know. They carry on and misbehave - they'd get drunk if they knew how - when they can't have what they want, when they feel unwanted or insecure or unloved”.

“I have to go!” Javi bolted upright suddenly, as you confusedly paused the movie.

“Okayeeeee….are you alright? Do you need me to…?”

“Absolutely not! I mean…it’s time for me to go!” Javi grabbed his jacket lying on the coffee table and gave you a quick peck on both cheeks before nearly running out the door. If it wasn’t so concerning, it might be comedic, as he nearly tripped over his own shoes, farcically wrestling into his evening jacket and flinging the door open. “See you tonight! I mean tomorrow. Thank you for a lovely evening principessa…” and he was out the door.

How strange. You were often apt to conclude that you had somehow misread the situation, but your instincts told you that something had shifted. Was he suddenly embarrassed about his screenplay? It wasn’t perfectly formed, but it was quite good. Maybe you hadn’t offered enough encouragements. You shrugged your shoulders doubtfully, resuming the movie and trying to set your quandaries to one side. You were anxious about class tomorrow—maybe Javi was growing similarly trepidatious about his industry meeting with Nicholas Cage. You sighed defeatedly, trying to release the growing tension in your shoulders and neck. If only real life could be as straightforward as the movies…

Hearing your high heels echo in the lecture hall you tried to conjure the confidence and stage presence of Betty Davis as you read her scintillating observations of women in the performing arts industry,

“Funny business, a woman's career - the things you drop on your way up the ladder so you can move faster. You forget you'll need them again when you get back to being a woman. That's one career all females have in common, whether we like it or not: being a woman. Sooner or later, we've got to work at it, no matter how many other careers we've had or wanted. And in the last analysis, nothing's any good unless you can look up just before dinner or turn around in bed, and there he is. Without that, you're not a woman. You're something with a French provincial office or a book full of clippings, but you're not a woman. Slow curtain, the end”.

Your voice hung in the air as about 20 students gazed back at you with enchantment. Betty Davis you were NOT, but you were delighted to see the cinematic enthusiasm of your summer students.

“And what do we gather from the character’s steely diatribe against society’s requirement of the female persuasion?” you asked, noticing a shadowy figure sneak in the back of the lecture hall and silently take a seat. Oooh, maybe it was someone from the administration, you’d better be on your best behavior. “I think it’s incredibly prescient, given its context in the "Golden Age", you formed quotation marks with your fingers “…and recognizing society’s grab for power, dominance and greed at all costs. Even to the exclusion of the personhood of the human” you debated, returning to your notes for the classroom agenda. “Let’s move on to the topic of social manipulation and professional ambition” you noted, referencing your power point presentation. You clicked on the graphic of the character Addison Dewitt,

“That I should want you at all, suddenly strikes me as the height of improbability. But that, in itself, is probably the reason. You're an improbable person, Eve, and so am I. We have that in common. Also, our contempt for humanity and inability to love, and be loved, insatiable ambition, and talent. We deserve each other”.

The figure in the back of the room shifted slightly in their seat with discomfort. You hoped you were making a good impression. “The character of Addison Dewitt is a literary metaphor for the dominating ambition that seems to drive, not only those in the performance industry, but in a capitalistic society at large” you tried to use as much flowery language as possible. This internship was a golden ticket of sorts, and you were anxious to demonstrate your academic prowess. You referenced the next clip, eliciting a vocal response from your audience as Addison slapped Eve across the face;

“-We are all busy little bees, full of stings, making honey day and night. Aren't we honey? -Sounds more like the mark of a true killer: sleep tight, rest easy, and come out fighting. -I’m sure you mean something by that, Addison, but I don't know what. -I am nobody's fool, least of all yours. -It’s important right now that we talk, killer to killer. -Champion to champion. -After tonight, you will belong to me. -Belong to you - why, that sounds medieval, something out of an old melodrama! (slap) -Now, remember, as long as you live, never to laugh at me - at anything or anyone else, but never at me.”

The class tittered with tension and awkward laughter. “The relationship between Addison and Eve is hardly romantic, but more so qualifies as a means to an end. How do you think that contrasts with the other relationships such as Karen and Lloyd; Margo and Bill?” Shifting to the next power point slide, the character of Bill reprimanded Margo in a lover’s spat,

“-As it happens, there are particular aspects of my life to which I would like to maintain sole and exclusive rights and privileges. Like….you. -That might be my cue to take you in my arms and reassure you. But I'm not going to - I'm too mad. Darling, there are certain characteristics for which you are famous, on stage and off. I love you for some of them, in spite of others. I haven't let those become too important. They're part of your equipment for getting along in what is laughingly called our environment. You have to keep your teeth sharp - all right - but I will not have you sharpen them on me, or on Eve! -You know, there isn't a playwright in the world who could make me believe this would happen between two adult people. -Perhaps I’m not a good enough director to salvage our scene, but you must be a good enough actress. There never was, and there never will be another like you.”

The hum of the projector warmed the already infused summer air as you wiped your forehead delicately, hearing the silhouetted figure clear their voice loudly in the background. You noticed their hand raised and delightedly called on them. “Is there any hope for her at all?” the voice rang out from the back of the lecture hall, bouncing off the walls and around the interior of your heart. Javi! He made it! You wondered how his industry meeting had progressed before responding…

“Well the cinematic ending is rather ambiguous, but I think Margo Channing has a vibrant life ahead of her! Finding romantic fulfillment with Bill Simpson and recognizing her individualized self-worth is probably the best revenge one could get…”

“I mean….Eve. Is there any hope for Eve?” Javi’s voice cracked as the class began to turn in their seats to locate the hidden voice in the background. You paused, somewhat concerned if Javi were okay, there seemed to be a note of tension in his voice. Perhaps he needed some encouragement after his Skype discussion.

“Oh! That much is up for interpretation. Addison does encourage Eve to place her accolades and awards where a heart should be. But the enigma continues as we see her potential protege, already usurping Eve’s meteoric rise to fame. Ladies and gentleman allow me to introduce my friend and colleague Javi Gutierrez. An aspiring screenwriter, cinematic aficionado and close friends with international superstar, Nick Cage!” you really laid it on thick, but wanted to support Javi however you could. The class immediately burst into applause as you finished the lecture. “In closing, let’s continue to analyze the ramifications of this cinematic classic. The way that it questions industry ambition, greed, power and the double standard brought about by professional misogyny. I haven’t even touched on the queer subtext, sophisticated campy dialogue or dramedy hybrid, but that will be another discussion for another time. Don’t forget to start watching our list of classic and contemporary cinema covered in the syllabus such as “East of Eden”, “Psycho”, “Fanny and Alexander”, “Deer Hunter” and more. I’ll see you next week, excellent work! Class dismissed!” There was a smattering of applause as the students excitedly talked and exited the classroom straining to get a better view of your enigmatic guest, as he walked down the stairs to the front of the room. You gathered your books and notes, the projector humming vibrationally next to you and casting dramatic beams of light around the room theatrically.

“You are a vision!” Javi exclaimed, kissing you across both cheeks and beaming with pride. But his eyes seemed to be shining with more than just satisfaction, as you caught a sheen of emotion dotting his countenance and a deep furrow to his brow.

“Aw, thanks Javi, it means the world that you made it today, I can’t tell you…” you ventured, squeezing his forearm with approval. “How’d everything go with the meeting? Was Nick pleased with your progress?” Javi’s face immediately fell with defeat, as he turned his back to you with a small whimper.

“Let us focus on your victory of the day, rather than my own…” his voice dramatically intoned, gathering up more of your books despite your protestations. “I am anxious to enjoy our dinner and movie selection of the night” and he immediately headed out the door amidst your confused looks.

What in the world was bothering him?

It had taken some coaxing, but on the walk back to your villa, Javi had slowly started to relax. You couldn’t be sure what was plaguing him, but after a steady stream of discussion and joking, he nearly seemed back to normal as you both entered the apartment laughing jovially. You were just about to suggest an evening movie when you caught Javi’s crestfallen expression as he fixed his eyes on his screenplay sitting on the kitchen counter.

“Alright, out with it!” you exclaimed, as Javi’s face crumpled with emotion, his lip quivering ever so slightly with concern.

“I cannot continue” he dramatically professed, histrionically dropping the books and flinging himself face first onto the living room couch with chagrin. You rolled your eyes good-naturedly, picking up the screen play and carefully sitting atop his lower back as he sniffled quietly.

“It seems to me this couch could use some more padding” you tried to tease, as Javi’s weight shifted beneath you with embarrassment.

“Would you taunt a man whose very existence is dissolving into a heap of despair and angst?” Javi’s voice mumbled into the pillows disdainfully. You pouted with concern, moving to the floor and running your hands lightly through his curly hair. European men could be so dramatic, but something was obviously bothering him.

“Is this about the meeting with Nick?” you offered, before Javi pushed himself up revealing his red-rimmed eyes and crimson hue’d nose.

“YES this is about my online meeting with international superstar and close personal friend Nicholas Cage!” he nearly cried before collapsing back onto the couch with despair.

You bit back a smile of skepticism before starting to rub large circles over Javi’s back and nodding in support. “He didn’t like it?” you whispered, dreading the response. Javi paused before mumbling into the pillow;

“He loved it”.

You stopped your ministrations, sitting back on your heels with disbelief. “Well of course he loved it! It’s absolutely amazing!” you giggled, looking at the prostrate man before you. “Wait, so…what’s the problem then?” you waited with anticipation watching Javi’s back rise and fall with a tense breath.

“I believe…” Javi’s voice wilted under the oppression before meeting your eyes with gravitas, “…I believe I have become….Eve Harrington”. He threw himself back onto the couch as you blinked dumbly before him.

“I’m sorry….what?” you tried to stifle a laugh, fingering the pages of the screenplay in your hands. Artists were so delightfully hyperbolic.

“It is not funny, Principessa!” Javi declared, sitting up abruptly and kicking your foot with seriousness. You nodded solemnly, hugging the screenplay to your chest tightly. “You must understand the sincere anguish that is permeating my very soul in this moment.”

You quietly considered his admission. “How absolutely horrible, you must get confused for Anne Baxter all the time” you deadpanned, waiting for Javi’s explanation. FINALLY, his veneer cracked, as he sheepishly collapsed back onto his side with petulance.

“It is possible I might be over-reacting” he acquiesced, poking the screenplay with one large forefinger. “Did you actually like it?” he whispered, his eyes a sea of innocence.

“I absolutely did” you confessed, leafing through the pages with delight. “It’s campy and genre-bending. A total tour-de-force for Nicholas Cage, and a wonderful commentary on the self-referential nature of Hollywood and artistry in general. It actually reminds me of "All About Eve" in some ways…” you admitted before Javi’s face screwed up with anxiety. “But not because you’re turning into Eve Harrington!”

Javi sighed with uneasiness, as you sat down next to him, attempting to heft his body to an upright position. “I’m doooooomed for all eternity! I have sullied the iridescent name of cinematic powerhouse and intimate artistic comrade, Nicholas Cage, with my flagrant attempt to displace his greatness! As though that were even possible….” Javi whimpered with a flourish, collapsing his heavy weight against you and tilting his head to your shoulder.

“Oh my. This is really quite serious” you nodded. “I had no idea you had such gargantuan screenwriting prowess. On the surface, you just seemed like a loving fan who idealized their theatrical hero. And now, as per your observations, I can clearly see how maniacal you have become. It’s just too bad Nick Cage is not capable of seeing through your facade” you teased, taking Javi’s large hand in yours and stroking it tenderly.

He sniffled thoughtfully at your remarks. “Nicholas Cage is the paragon of dramatic virtue” he observed huffily, drawing your interlaced hands up to his chest and heaving a hefty sigh. “Perhaps you are right, Principessa. But what of the playwright Mr. Richards? He intimates that artists should know their place and avoid self-aggrandizement at all costs!”

You screwed up your face in remembrance, trying to access the referenced cinematic moment. “Javi, he says something about actors taking artistic liberties with words that are not their own. If anything, that quote refers to Nick Cage, not you the playwright…” you argued, as Javi apparently stopped breathing momentarily. “Maybe you could listen to the words Nick is actually saying to you, because they seem to be nothing but supportive”.

Javi turned to face you with a new beam of enlightenment gracing his sparkling face. “I am not attempting to usurp and displace theatrical legend and creative genius, Nicholas Cage?” he whispered, nearly nose to nose with you now.

“I’m not sure you could, sweetie” you offered, gripping his hand tightly with encouragement.

“I have not turned into an attractive but maniacal masculine version of the literary character Eve Harrington and forever damaged our burgeoning professional and personal relationship?” he blinked skeptically, looking for any minuscule traces of hesitation in your micro-expressions.

“That would be quite the talent, but no, I’m fairly certain not”.

Javi’s face burst into a radiant smile as he collapsed back against the couch, finally satisfied, and breathing a sigh of relief. “And you really thought the screenplay was good?” he cast his eyes downward, avoiding your glance before you dipped your head lower still to catch his gaze.

“I really did. And so did Nick Cage” you smiled, kissing Javi lightly on the cheek as he blushed a deep crimson.

“Eccellente” he mouthed, stifling a small giggle of joy.

“Now, I wouldn’t mind another one of those gelato milkshake concoctions from last night. Are we watching another selection from my curriculum series? I haven’t even attempted “The Candyman”…or maybe “Poltergeist”?” you questioned.

“Principessa, I have had more than enough horrors for the evening!” Javi joked, kissing your hand with bravado before heading into the kitchen for ingredients. “Incidentally, I believe you agreed to watch one of my favorites at your earliest convenience….” his voice drifted in from the background.

“Javi, we already watching Paddington 2…” you whined, kicking off your heels and settling in for the night.

“A giant in the world of dramatic arts!” Javi bellowed from the kitchen before waxing philosophical. “But, of course, I am speaking of National Treasure 2, starring international film star and personal friend….”

You mouthed with his expected response, “Nicholas Cage”. Smiling quietly to yourself you listened to the melodic hum of Javi’s voice as you watched the children playing in the golden light of Italian dusk.

There are very few moments in life as good as this. Let's remember it. To each of us and all of us, never have we been more close, may we never be farther apart.

*roll credits

*@dornish-queen footage + Alfred Newman Soundtrack

Pedro Scouts Let's Get It Up!

I've been falling behind on my @pedroscouts badge assembly and Pedge reminded me of such. Recently on our camp picnic he mentioned some stellar examples of his hawt-ness. I invite you to join our picnic at your leisure. I have a separate reblog account @pedrotease for all the deets...

Rom Com: I Am Seeing Stars...@fairies-in-the-garden Forced Proximity: What She Wants...Anywhere @inthe-dark-tonight Dark Fic: Shh...Just a Little Bit More (Spicy Version) @mountainsandmayhem Max Phillips: Cinnamon Rolls @daddy-dins-girl Awakened a Kink: Pussycat @flowing-between-space Googled a Term: Euphoria (fourchette?) Din Djarin: Like a Virgin @iamasaddie Musings @obislittleone Fan Art @gffa Bed Time @abigaillarson Fluff: The Nightmare @pedropascallme Soul Mates: Fortnight @mermaidgirl30 Oberyn: Unshelled @inept-the-magnificent My Way @lincolndjarin Little Dove @palioom Horror: I Hate When You're Right @punkshort Stay In the Light @mermaidgirl30 Procedural: Honey-Do List @kiwisbell How to Do Your Hair @talaok Writer's Masterlist @pedrostories Gym Routine @mountain-maiden How to Manifest @writersblog20 Meet Cute: The Shop Around the Corner @sawymredfox PWP: Threesome @rottiens

Thanks @pedroscouts for these fun summer activities!

Moody Max

Am I currently working on the exciting Marcus Pike "Roll the Dice" fic inspired by @burntheedges and @yopossum? No. Am I adding to my "Afterglow" Series with a new Pedro Boy? No. Am I writing the 3rd installment for The New York, New York Series with "Purple Rain"? No. But here's a Mood Board for a potential Halloween Fic for a character that scares me from a movie I haven't yet seen. Cause #PedroPascal...

Pedge's Bookshop The Storm

Grab a Latte! lounge around in the foyer with this sweet fic "Taste You" by @hellishjoel before heading into the Bookshop!

Triggers: profanity, Last of Us canon + references, this series will feature MAJOR spoilers for "Crime and Punishment", lite smut, ex-type character, spiritual concepts, injury

Series Masterlist

Words: 3.3k

You drew a tentative single finger down the perspiring glass of water before you. The town hall cavernously echo’d, as your leg tapped nervously under the elongated table before you. Tommy shuffled his papers awkwardly as Joel placed a firmly solid hand atop your thigh, squeezing gently as you attempted to take a deep breath. This had been YOUR idea. Maria swallowed dryly, pausing to look at a non-existent watch and then softly chuckling to herself in defeat. Everyone had assembled except the least desired member of the discussion; Levi.

Once again you questioned your motivations, but with the administrative transitions coming up  and the anticipation of Maria’s pregnancy, it was more important than ever to solidify the safety and maintenance of the commune’s existence. You just never counted on it including Levi. Initially you had reasoned that his temporary presence might be nothing more than an inconvenience; a temporary setback when your past haltingly caught up with you. You had spent more than a few sleepless nights, wondering if his appearance was the harbinger of disastrous revelations, and indeed, it had culminated in more than a few protestations. The worst had occurred; and The Miller Family at large was all too aware of your questionable background and salacious past. But if anything, it had seemingly solidified their undeserved respect and acceptance of your assured position in the community. Tommy was overjoyed to provide Maria with extended resources, and Maria was holding her skepticism of Joel at bay with her repulsion of Levi in comparison. Ellie had all but started a campaign for your continued administrative duties, and Joel. Joel was the most surprising of all.  The layers of armor and emotional barriers had finally started to dissipate, as your own vulnerabilities came to light.

Not so with Levi. 

His moral apathy hung like a weight around his neck, dragging him and his posse to the forefront of patrol responsibilities, as they begrudgingly ingratiated themselves into town life. It was only a matter of time before the uncomfortable social bomb detonated, and you were hopeful that casualties could be limited, so you had suggested this clunky and currently stalled discussion to get a better idea of Levi’s intentions. Joel shifted with discomfort in his seat, as he glanced sideways and offered a perfunctory smile. His only motivation for being here was YOU, and offering whatever support or encouragement he could. Levi had set his teeth on edge from day one, but since that tumultuous altercation at dinner, Joel had managed to stifle whatever aggressive tendencies bubbled just below the surface. You appreciated his stolid presence, but felt the tension shifting between Maria as well. There were so many things unsaid, and you weren’t sure if voicing them would bring any clarity or unification. You just knew that things could not stay they way that they were. Finally, the door swung open as Levi strode confidently and loudly into the echoing chamber, fresh from patrol. Grabbing a nearby chair, he grabbed the available glass of water and downed it in several quick swallows before wiping his hand sloppily across his mouth and heavily sighing.

“Hey Teach” he smirked, squaring off against Joel who sat across the table and staring into Maria’s eyes as though questioning the barrel of a loaded gun.

“Thanks for joining us, Levi. I trust you and your group didn’t encounter any unexpected difficulties on patrol this evening” Tommy began, attempting to assuage the growing tensions.

“How could I? You’ve got me on such a tight leash I’m starting to feel like the commune bitch” Levi joked, casting a teasing glance in your direction before Joel cleared his throat menacingly. Levi paused appraisingly. “Nothing to write home about…” he begrudgingly jested, leaning back in his chair as though settling in for an interrogation.

“Tommy and I wanted to get a better idea of your long term intentions for commune residency” Maria engaged, setting her papers before her as though back in a courtroom atmosphere. “Joel tells me your patrol participation has been…satisfactory”.

Levi drolly smiled, crossing his arms smugly behind his head. You vaguely imagined him tipping over backwards, he seemed so pleased with himself. “High praise indeed” Levi sarcastically observed, pursing his lips thoughtfully.

“Your arrival was…well-timed” the words curtly exited Joel’s mouth. “Figure the same will be true for your exit” he quipped, his jaw ticking angrily beneath. You took a deep stilling breath before attempting to join the conversation.

“I for one, am very grateful for Levi’s support” you chose your words carefully, feeling Joel bristle beside you. “Nothing is more important to me than the people of this commune, and if Levi has anything beneficial to add, I think we should put it to the test”. You surprised yourself with the assertion of your tone, but encouraged by Maria’s staunch reinforcement. Levi’s eyes deceptively narrowed at the directionality of your challenge, and he sat up as though answering  a dual.

“Don’t matter to me” Levi nearly spat, knocking the table slightly with his body weight and relishing the small jump it elicited from you. “World’s been endin’ for a long time now. I’m just scopin’ out the best place to land” he licked his chapped lips defiantly. Maria nodded definitively, though Joel was shaking his head in silence. You felt as though you were poised between a rock and a hard place. Desperately wanting to protect Joel and the commune, but currently at the mercy of your own desires and insecurities. 

Tommy broke the tension deftly, “Alright, it’s a deal. One week from now we have our next scheduled resource rendezvous. Joel, you and I can lead a patrol at dawn, and Levi and his group can watch the defensive flank. What’dya say Levi?” Tommy stood to punctuate the offer, holding out a circumstantially forced hand of agreement. Levi stood to mirror him, spitting into his hand and grasping Tommy’s firmly in his. Joel gripped the table forcefully, a ticking time bomb, waiting to explode at any moment. Levi smiled with awareness, enjoying the mounting tensions of the moment. He feigned a two finger salute, “Be seein’ ya!” before striding back out of the town hall, and slamming the door behind him. The room audibly breathed a sigh of relief upon his exit.

“Are we really doing this?” Joel muttered under his breath. Maria’s gaze held a steely resolution, as Tommy sat down defeatedly. 

“It’ll be okay” you encouraged, taking Joel’s hand fixedly in your own, under the table. Perhaps the ends could justify the means. You were loathe to articulate the unspoken truth, but you no longer had the luxury of painting reality in any other light. The truth might be a bitter pill to swallow, but in the face of insurmountable odds the only thing you really risked losing was yourself. You flashed on a Dostoyevsky quote that the devil might not exist, but man has thus created him in his own image and likeness. But if you could save the commune…if you could save Ellie…if you could save Joel…it was worth it. However, the weight of your discussion settled over the table with a heavy foreboding.

Had you just made a deal with the devil?

Joel’s whiskers teased the sensitive skin of your neckline as you bumped precariously against one of the bookshelves. “You know, if it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t have to keep revisiting the Arts and Recreation section…” you breathed, eyelids heavy with longing, as you temporarily paused his ministrations.

“Feels pretty recreational to me…” Joel teased, grabbing the lush shape of your backside, and caging you against the oaken wood.  The corners of you mouth hiked upward as you drew your hands lazily up and around his neck.

“I AM sorry about this upcoming patrol” you apologized, halting Joel’s salacious attention and watching the incredulity flood his features.

“Just protocol” Joel chastised, touching his nose lightly to yours. “We need the supplies, and if Levi can help us get it, we’ll use him in the process” he wisely advised, tightening his grip. 

You smiled cautiously, “Please watch yourself around him, Joel”.

“Always do, ‘xcept when I’m watchin’ you…” he joked, pulling you in for another kiss. You were about to admonish him when Rascal the Cat signaled an approaching customer. The doorbell chimed distinctly as Joel rounded the corner, deftly tucking you behind the bookshelf clandestinely. “We’re closed…” he began, before subtly bristling at Maria’s appearance. “Oh…uh…Maria….Everything alright?” Joel’s hand stayed behind the bookshelf, motioning for you to stay quiet.

“Sorry to bother you Joel, I had some commune business I wanted to run by you without a bunch of watchful eyes” Maria judiciously observed, clearing her throat authoritatively. You secretively held your breath, stilling your pounding heart. Should you announce yourself? You still felt a little unsure of your new administrative position, and Joel seemed content to keep your presence known only to himself. Perhaps you could do more good from the shadows…

“I hate to ask it, but…I’ve been talking to Ellie” Maria began, looking apprehensively around the room, as though expecting her to show up at any moment.

“Now wait just a goddam minute…” Joel retorted, leaving you behind in the back of the bookshop and moving towards Maria purposefully. 

“She just wants to join patrols, Joel. She’s old enough, and capable as hell, and you know it” Maria countered, shifting her weight awkwardly. She was getting closer and closer to a due date, and the pressure of that responsibility might be motivating her decisions unexpectedly.

“Don’t make it right” Joel stated matter a factly, nodding his head succinctly. You were already hesitant about Joel’s patrol participation, and weren’t keen to add Ellie to the mix. The last thing you needed was Levi influencing them both.

“I know you’re protective of her, but she watches you like a hawk. She only wants what’s best…” Maria chimed in as Joel folded his arms skeptically across his chest.

“Can’t do it” he argued. “S’not time yet”.

Maria sighed with defeat, placing her hands on her hips with a slight defiance. “Well,…you’re gonna have to explain that to her yourself, because she won’t leave me alone otherwise”. Joel nodded knowingly, anxious to drop the matter as quickly as possible. 

“’S’good training for your little one, whenever they arrive” Joel offered, widening his eyes sympathetically. He might complain about the responsibilities of faux parenthood, but it was apparent in all of his actions and words that Ellie was his pride and joy. He wasn’t easily going to let her out of his sight. You smiled affectionately.

“Ellie’s a lucky kid” Maria downshifted, heading away from the Bookshop Counter and within your diagonal sightline, though you were still relatively hidden behind the bookshelves. “I can see why she’s so special…” Maria seemingly taunted, fingering the nearby psychology section and drawing her words out precisely.

“What’dya mean by that?” Joel interrogated, a slight bite nearing the edges of his tone subtly. “What’d Tommy say?”.

“Oh nothing…” Maria toyed again, pulling out a copy of Sigmund Freud’s “The Interpretation of Dreams” and placing it back on the bookshelf in one motion. “Just seems like I can’t get a straight answer around here. From Levi, Ellie…YOU” Maria’s voice sounded neutral and passive, but there was an air of interrogation in it. Maria was a leader through and through, and if she seized upon something that raised a red flag, she reminded you of a dog with a bone. She wasn’t easily going to let this go.

You peeked from behind the bookshelf quizzically, watching Joel’s neck tick with discomfort. “Are you accusin’ me of somethin’?” Joel growled, his hands perched confidently on his hips. Maria turned quickly, with a judicious appraisal, bringing her hand to her stomach protectively. 

“You’re family Joel” she soothed, watching his shoulders relax infinitesimally, but still recognizing his guarded stance. “Tommy won’t ever betray the brotherhood” she smiled, rubbing a small concentric circle around her abdomen. “I just want you to know that…whatever you’re hiding, can’t be good for Ellie. It can’t be good for you or anyone else that loves you…” you shrank quickly behind the bookshelf, wondering if Maria somehow telepathically sensed your presence.

“The past should stay in the past” Joel lowly intoned, so quietly you weren’t sure if you heard him correctly.

“Maybe…until it drags itself into the light” Maria responded, stepping closer as Joel inched back. “You don’t have to suffer alone, Joel. Rid yourself of whatever you’re holding back. I know Ellie will thank you for it…”. You heard the stifled intake of air, as Joel responded to Maria’s firm grasp of his forearm. Rascal the Cat bumped up against your calve as you tried to shoo him away. Maria nodded curtly before departing out the door, a cascade of wintry air barreling inside juxtaposed by the no longer friendly chime of the bell. You picked up Rascal and slowly approached Joel who remained locked in introspection. Placing a soft hand on his shoulder, he still jumped at your light touch as Rascal scampered down onto the floor, heading to the foyer armchair.

“She’s right you know…” you murmured, tucking yourself into his side as he drew a tentative arm around your waist. “You’re not alone in all this” you encouraged, watching Rascal blink lazily atop the cozy quilt.

“S’not my secret to tell…” Joel rasped, his brows furrowed in concentration. “But…the time’s comin’. Comin’ for a reckoning…” he cautioned, swaying lightly with you enclosed in his grasp. You darkly pondered his meaning, looking forlornly around the nearly completed bookshop. 

“Gonna have to start letting people in soon” you remarked, smiling at Rascal and pointing to the perpetually “closed” sign in the doorway.

“Soon” Joel nodded gazing down at your face affectionately and pressing his lips lightly to yours. “Very soon…”

The rest of the week passed quickly, as you prepared for the upcoming patrol. You couldn’t calm the horrendous gnawing sensation that was eating away at you from within, but you knew that this was the next necessary step in finding solutions. You and Ellie commiserated more than a few times before the fateful day when Joel, Tommy, Levi and others would head back to Elk Creek to pick up the much needed monthly supplies. It was time to put this shaky union to the test. 

You were spending more and more time at the Millers, so it came as no surprise when Joel invited you to spend the night. His eyes twinkled mischievously when he confessed that he had already “talked to the kid”. While you giggled tremendously imagining the comedy of that situation, he had led you upstairs, inviting you into his bed. The night was filled with cuddling, laughter and kisses as you discussed your dreams for the future Bookshop. You were already excited to introduce your students to a new town library and Joel was already suggesting your next literary venture once “Crime and Punishment” was done. Currently it was the coziest Book Club for two, but there was a world where you could expand to officially include Ellie and other commune members who were interested.

While the ease of your rapport wasn’t surprising, Joel’s modesty was, blushing a bright red as you pushed your ass back against his hips. You felt him stiffen in more ways than one, as he chuckled shyly. “Can we wait a little darlin’?” his Southern drawl already had you melting under his touch as you turned your head to meet his gaze. “Wanna take my time with you, and if we…get together now, I’m not gonna last nearly as long as you deserve”.

You gulped with arousal, twisting your body to meet his and collapsing back into him. “Don’t need any more than this, Joel. But I hope I can motivate you to come back from patrol as soon as possible” you tantalized, grinding your hips against his as he inhaled quickly through his mouth.

“Don’t have to tell me twice” he teased, smashing his lips into yours for another passionate kiss. And so the night passed sweetly, encased in one other’s arms, housed in your den of solace. It wasn’t until the early morning hours that you awoke to Joel’s bristling beard at the nape of your neck signaling the start of the dreaded patrol. Entangled in one another’s embrace you tried to soak up every freckle, every wrinkle and every smile on Joel’s face, memorizing his visage as though wondering if you would ever see it again. Eventually you both begrudgingly lumbered down the stairs, meeting Ellie who had already prepared a hearty breakfast for Joel’s exit. You had expected the interaction to be more awkward, but Ellie was mostly focused on Joel’s safety…and arguing for her future participation when she was a bit older. You smiled tenderly at the easy conversation and teasing tonality. Please. Please. Let this be the start of my next story. Not the tragic ending of a narrative just begun. You caught yourself staring at Joel longingly, and trying to keep your thoughts focused on possibility, not tragedy.

And then he was gone. Grabbing his winter coat and supplies, you had all decided to keep the goodbyes short and unemotional. Joel would be back in three days. There was no purpose in histrionics or dramatics. Just another three days, and Joel would be back in your arms, and the commune would have more supplies and more resources for the long respite till Spring.

Three days.

Tapping your pencil nervously against the school desk you looked around at the cornucopia of students taking an impromptu test on agriculture and harvesting techniques. Ellie looked up tentatively to lock eyes with you. Three days.

You had a faint recognition of the Biblical telling of Jesus’ crucifixion and resurrection. Surely nothing else had felt nearly as interminable.

Two days.

Gone were the times of cell phones and emails. No news broadcast that allowed you to focus your attention on outlooks or predictions. Just Maria’s solemn face in the town meeting hall as you wordlessly nodded in her direction. The hours ticked by, as slow as molasses. You and Ellie had spent several hours, trying to wrangle the remaining refurbishment of The Bookshop before Joel’s return. Every evening, you had methodically read and re-read the confession of Rascalnikov and thought of Joel. Wondered where he was. Wondered at his safety. Wondered if he were thinking of you. The pages of your book started to fray and tatter slightly at the corners as you wore them down doggedly.

One day.

You were hesitantly happy for another day at school, desperately trying to focus on the current curriculum of World History and corresponding literature. You had already begun tantalizing the class with the promise of an upcoming field trip to the “soon to be opened” bookshop, with library options galore. You bit your lower lip in a mixture of anxiety and anticipation. Joel. Joel. Come back. Joel. You felt nearly crawling out of your skin. Where was Joel? Drawing your focus meticulously back to a description of the Civil War, it wasn’t until you heard the flurried footfalls of Ellie across the outer deck that your heart lurched with foreboding. Ellie flung the door open, pausing heatedly as the entire class craned their necks with curiosity.

“Come quick Teach, the patrol is back!” Ellie shouted, though your countenance immediately fell from enthusiasm to concern noticing the tear streaks lining her face.

“What happened?” you croaked, dropping the chalk to the ground quietly as the classroom collectively held its breath.

“Only ten men came back…there’s no Levi, and barely any supplies. Just come quick, Teach…it's Joel.

Joel is hurt.”

@morallyinept @littlemisspascal @wannabe-urs

@beefrobeefcal @sawymredfox 

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

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

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

@copperhalfcent @bluesweaters15 @drewharrisonwriter @darkheartgatita

@harriedandharassed @brittmb115 @confusedpuffin @zaniasky @quicax3

Pedro Party!

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

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

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

In Cold Blood; The Exposition

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

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

Series Masterlist

Word Count: 3k

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

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

A phone rang. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Score.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What had gone wrong?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Moody Lucien

Alright, we don't know much about "The Uninvited" but I'm excited to stream it come November. And I KNOW y'all have seen that kissy kissy footage, thank you very much. Thanksgiving can't cum soon enough...

Pedro Fandom Bingo Finale

I love these kinds of activities! Here's the last update, it's been a great year of Tumblr 💖 I have a separate reblog account so check out @pedrotease for all the deets! And thanks to @burntheedges for the fun prompt! Finale Bingo, thanks to the writers for all you do!

Dave York No One Has to Know What We Do @guiltyasdave Down Bad @schnarfer The Roomate Agreement @auteurdelabre Melt @sizzlingcloudmentality Dieter Sweet Dee @yopossum Devotion, Self Care w/ Dieter + Jett @morallyinept My Darling Muse Mr. Ben Visiting @ladamedusoif Ternion @exquisiteserotonin Joel Miller All Good Things @criticallyacclaimedstranger Oberyn Unshelled @inept-the-magnificent He Will Slay You With His Tongue @iamasaddie Hurt/Comfort Trope (Joel Edition) Somewhere to Run, I Know Who You Are @punkshort Nothing Hits Quite Like That First Kiss @backtothefanfiction Javier Pena Kinktober 2024 @flightlessangelwings Afterglow Marcus Pike Is It Real? @f0rever15elf Pike's Place Pero Tovar Drabble #4 @toomanystoriessolittletime General Acacius Soak @juletheghoul Din Shower Sex @pedropascallme Javi Gutierrez Slow @morallyinept Phoenix Rising Agent Whiskey Glorification @morallyinept How Much Does Devotion Weight? @anabdaniels Marcus Moreno Thanksgiving Delights Cock Warming @flightlessangelwings Frankie Morales You're My Stranger in the Dark @lady-of-glass-and-bone Moody Frankie New Pedro Character Little Dove @palioom Unmasked Tim Rockford The Detective and the Agent @604to647 Husband Material Max Phillips Blood Sucking Witch Ezra One Stop Shop @morallyinept

Moody Fall

Grump. I is in a bad mood. Here are some pretty pictures for me and anyone else in a bad mood. Now...I am in a slightly better mood. Hmph.

Maxwell's Music

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!

Triggers: music may involve profanity and adult topics, short description of character's interactions with music, smut, this short includes references to death and parental relationship, as per the character's arc in Wonder Woman 1984

Pedge's Jukebox

Maxwell's Music

*Maxwell Lord is all 80’s all the time. He thinks he’s one of the cool kids, but doesn’t realize his…seasoned maturity… *Wakes up at 5am to take a power walk around the neighborhood. Grabs his green juice and pops over to the gym to enjoy the playlist and pump some iron before heading over to work. *On weekends, when he has him, Maxwell Lord is not only determined to teach his son Alistair the important points of business management, but he also imparts the backstory of his favorite bands in an effort to bond…That is, when he remembers… *In the evenings, Maxwell grabs a late night espresso to head to the gym for a repeat visit. He blares the music as loudly as possible and envisions his monetary empire growing exponentially *Doesn’t have time for relationships after the divorce, but will occasionally frequent the local Strip Club for a quickie with his favorite gal “Pussycat” (sexy time with a sexy gal to sexy music) *Absolutely hates silence at the office and around the house. Wants to bombard himself with sound and fury and activity all the time, to avoid thinking about his failures… *During his lunch, will break out his Casio Walkman and allows the music to “pump him up” *Didn’t want to attend his father’s funeral, so he sent money to cover the expense, and then went to work. Didn’t tell anyone about the death but shed a few tears listening to “When Doves Cry”. Promptly decided to never think on it again. *Upon reunion with his son, has vowed to turn over a new leaf and make that relationship his priority. Wonders what his son’s favorite music is, and can’t wait to listen to it…

*thanks @strangergraphics-archive for the cool dividers!