Pedge's Fave 2024 Things A Year Of 1sts

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 Glamping

A big thank you to @pedroscouts for this fun summer time activity! I ran into Pedge and he gently mentioned that my solo tent was a bit messy. He suggested some after care and a light massage because I was such a hot mess, so I've organized myself a bit more.

Ranks/Pledge I Pledge to Pedge Song Fic Use SomebodyPedge's Favorites Fan Art Papi Pascal Personal ArtJoel Miller @norththelemon Ellie and Joel @pebblume Din and Grogu @lupinsuniverse Game of Thrones Era @craftingwithamyc Esquire Magazine @saminadorazahi Beldro Ramscal Marcus Moreno We Can Be Heroes @firsttarotreader Cockwarming @flightlessangelwings Coffee Shop Coffee Shop Date @mermaidgirl30 Routine @endlessthxxghts Dieter Salt, Shot, Lime @freelancearsonist Enemies to Lovers Enjoy the Silence @strang3lov3 Whiskey Daniels How Much Does Devotion Weigh? @anabdaniels Ezra How to Write for Ezra @morallyinept Helianthus Fan Art @millersblud Sex Pollen Scarlet Haze @katiexpunk Only One Bed Killing Me Softly Series @alltheirdamn Frankie Morales Do You Feel It Too? @burntheedges Fluff + Smut Is Joel Okay? @djarinmuse Hurt/Comfort I Know Who You Are Series @punkshortChronicSweet DreamsNothing Hits Quite Like That First Kiss @backtothefanfictionYou're My Stranger In the Dark @lady-of-glass-and-bone Slow Burn Pike's Place Joel Miller Somewhere to Run @punkshortJust Ralphy @ameerawrites

Now, if you'll excuse me, it's very important that I continue earning badges. Pedge assures me that the reward of personal hard work is quite fulfilling and I'm not just talking about scout cookies. Happy summer activities!

Pike's Place Nightmare Before Christmas

Thanks to @burntheedges "Roll-a-Trope Challenge" this dynamic duo is going strong till Christmas Day. I've started a slow burn Winter Series with the assist of @inept-the-magnificent!

Triggers: fainting, nightmares, argument, profanity, reference to alcohol, gun use, emergency scenario, panic attack

Series Masterlist

“What are you doing?!” Pike implored, jumping up from the couch and nearly falling over the coffee table in the process.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” you pleaded, wrapping yourself more tightly in an attempt to disappear into the floorboards.

“I know we’ve grown closer over the last few days…but you can’t just…How much Merlot did you have?” he questioned, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and stumbling slightly in the darkened room. Ella Fitzgerald weirdly kept repeating "I’m not yours, for better or for worse" as the record skipped jovially…

“ImsosorryIwasjusttryingtogetupthecouragetosaysomethingandyoulookedosadorablesleepingIcoulndttellifyouhadfeelingsformeandIvebeensoalonethelastfewyearsIthoughtwereallyhadaconnectionandIwouldneverwanttodoanythingthatmadeyouuncomfortableIveneverbeensoembarassedImsosorry!”

Pike was breathing heavily, running his fingers through his hair, trying to grasp the situation and looking wildly around the room as Ella warbled repetitively from the phonograph.

“What is it you want?” he questioned, pausing as all the air seemed to be sucked out of the room. “Have you been playing me this whole time?”

Your eyes widened to pleading saucers, holding your hands out in supplication, “Marcus, let me explain…”.

“It’s Agent Pike” his eyes darkened slightly as the room became somehow hot and cold simultaneously. This can’t be happening, you thought as a chill ran through your body unexpectedly. This was your worst nightmare becoming a reality. You had finally circumvented your isolation and fear and taken a real risk and it had blown up in your face. Four years of working from home, becoming more and more distant from friends and family, therapy, a pandemic…You looked over at the nearly finished bottle of Merlot. Geez, did you have a drinking problem now, too? Shaking your head to clear the cobwebs you felt the creeping tendrils of a small headache form at the base of your skull. How had everything gone so wrong in a matter of minutes? And what did Marc…what did Agent Pike say about Washington D.C? Your thoughts were flashing wildly across your mind scape but not making any sense. You weren’t drunk, so why was everything so confusing? You looked up at Pike pacing nervously back and forth as the television sent bizarre flickering images across his face and body.

Share for share, share alike You get struck each time I strike You for me- me for me- I'll give you plenty of nothing I'm not yours for better but for worse And I've learned to give the well-known witches' curse I've a terrible tongue, a temper for two And everything I've got belongs to you, you, you, you, you, you, you….

Your breath hitched in your chest as Ella outlandishly skipped over and over again, adding a horrible paranoia to an already uncomfortable moment.

“For heaven sakes!” Pike huffed, yanking the needle off the phonograph and eliciting a bone chilling scratching sound in the speakers. He picked up the record and smashed it across the hearth. The fire crackled ironically, as Pike looked at you as though seeing for the first time. “I think you should leave” he muttered, lowering his eyes to the ground uncomfortably and almost backing into the formerly cheery Christmas Tree behind him. “Now. I need you to leave now.”

“What?” you whispered, gulping with anxiety and beginning to consider the ramifications of his statement. What time was it? Maybe 2am in the morning? You hugged your body to your chest fearfully, balking with incredulity. Pike might not reciprocate your feelings, but he couldn’t possibly be serious. It was officially Christmas Eve, where were you supposed to go in a blizzard? Could you stay in your car till the storm subsided? Maybe you could just promise to stay in the upstairs bedroom till the mechanic arrived…or sleep in the wood shed? A lump immediately formed in your throat as tears sprang to your eyes. This is what you get for believing in yourself, you chided. Pike told you to be the hero of your own story, and now you were going to be more alone than ever.

“Get out. Now!” Pike shouted, grabbing the manilla envelope from under the tree and throwing it in the fire.

“No!” you shuddered, reaching for the envelope helplessly, praying you could somehow salvage the turn of events. You watched the unknown gift crumple into flames, feeling as though your heart were somehow mangled in the smoke. Coughing and sputtering, you stood to your feet, swaying slightly with confusion, feeling an oppressive weight bearing down on you.

“Marcus, I never meant to…” you doubled over in weakness as the room spun around you overwhelmingly.

“Agent! Pike!” he exclaimed, picking up the Christmas Tree and shoveling it into the roaring fireplace. The room was getting hotter and hotter as you fell to the floor gasping for air. The entire cabin was going up in flames. You felt like Ebenezer Scrooge, clawing at your own mortality as Marcus started laughing maniacally…

“Get out of my house!” he cackled, his eyes alight with revenge and terror, seemingly basking in your cries for help.

“Please, please…” you heard yourself crying until…

You sat bolt upright in bed, awakening to the sound of your own voice. Blinking rapidly in the nearly pitch black room you heard the howling wind outdoors. You were covered in sweat and had a pounding headache. Damn Merlot, you reprimanded yourself as the reality of the evening’s events cascaded, unbidden, into your foggy dream-like state. If only THAT had also been a nightmare, but no such miracle occurred. You swallowed a fresh cascade of sobs, desperately wishing you had kept your desires to yourself. But no, you were determined to escape the never-ending isolation of the pandemic, and somehow ended up more alone than ever. Tomorrow, you were leaving, heading into an unknown future. Worse still, you might have lost a real friend in Pike, but what did it matter? Pike was moving to Washington D.C and you had just ruined the only opportunity that had graced your doorstep in a very long time. This was oh so very real. A real nightmare come to life. Your very own “Nightmare Before Christmas”…

Pike stared unblinkingly at the flickering images on the television screen. Perpetually hounded by nightmares for the last several days, he annoyingly found himself unable to sleep, replaying the evening over and over in his mind. He rubbed his forehead placatingly, trying to make sense of the recent complexities. Once again he had repeated the same enthusiastic mistakes, falling head over heels for an idyllic misrepresentation of the truth, and now he’d broken someone else’s heart in the process. He looked towards your upstairs doorway, cold and closed to the harsh winds battling outside. Were you okay? Were you asleep? Were you as unsettled as he was? How could he fix what had been so easily broken? One moment, he held you in his arms, caressing the very gift he had so desperately desired from day one. And the next, you were flying up the stairs in retreat, planning to permanently leave his life before Christmas had even come to fruition.

How had things gone so drastically wrong? First you were strangers. Then, you were circumstantial friends. He didn’t want to treat you like a captive audience. During all those conversations, all those movies, and all those glasses of Merlot, he didn’t want to ruin things the way he had with Lisbon. Even allowing himself to believe that love would find its way to him had felt impossible, so why even mention it? Why mention the move to Washington D.C when that information had only caused harm in the past? Why believe that love had shown up on his doorstep when that door was just going to lead to another dead end?

Pike watched the television as Jack Skellington battled between the two paradigms of Halloween and Christmas, trying to move into a holiday of celebration and joy, whilst somehow taking his own limitations with him. Cynically smirking at the ghoulish figures parading before him, he twitched once again hearing the howling blizzard which had only intensified over the last few hours. The once picturesque landscape had begun to turn, trees clawing loudly at the roof, wind arguing fiercely for dominance. At first a small glimmer of hope had begun to light in his heart. Perhaps he could stall your departure and make an explanation, but what was there to explain? He had come back to tie up loose ends with Lisbon, and after closing that door, had shipped his few belongings to D.C and determined to end the year in solitude. Never in his wildest dreams did he imagine the holidays would include…you.

And how had he accepted this newfound sense of acceptance and unexpected opportunity? By hiding valuable information and then giving in to his desires without considering the ramifications. He hoisted himself up to grab some more fuel for the fire. The least he could do as a good host was keep his guest warm and try to get you home in one piece before Christmas Day.

The front doorknob rattled ever so slightly as a particularly large gust of wind shook the cabin dauntingly. Pike silently took stock of the resources and reserves that he knew remained in the cabin. Living on the East Coast had given him some inclinations of a real winter, but this was extreme, especially for California. The pipes could freeze, power lines could go down. He was just wondering if he should check the landline in the study, when he caught the telltale overture of trouble. The television started flickering hesitantly along with the lights, until the very mechanism of life itself seemed to grind to a halt, all electricity evaporating into the ether and plunging Pike into immediate darkness. Things just went from bad to worse.

You clutched your chest, hearing the dull thud of your racing heartbeat as blood rushed through your ears. What was that? Somehow the room was even darker than before and you could no longer hear the twinkling sound of the television from the living room. What was going on? You pulled off Pike’s flannel pajamas, nimbly feeling your way to the ubiquitous pink snowsuit.

You hadn’t even waited for an explanation. After the embarrassment of throwing yourself at Pike in a Merlot infused bid for love, his Washington D.C confessional had been the ultimate bruise. For that matter, WHY didn’t Pike mention the Washington D.C move earlier? You bit your lower lip, searching haphazardly for your boots. You’d spent the last few hours tossing and turning over your own missteps, but it takes two to tango. Was he really so oblivious as to think that was an unimportant detail? You found your initial irritation beginning to blaze in the recesses of your regret and guilt. You knew that Pike was too good to be true, but somehow his own contagious enthusiasm had dulled the impenetrability of your emotional armor. You had started believing that love was possible. You hurriedly zipped up the snowsuit, considering your options. You didn’t want to impose on Agent Pike anymore than you had to. Maybe this was a sign to try to bring your old broken down Hyundai to life. Much like you, maybe Bessie still had some kick in her and had just stalled. Pausing to listen a dull thrumming sound clicked into gear and the cabin seemed to pulse with a timid heartbeat once again. You glanced at your dimly lit cell phone by the bedside table. Stuffing your feet into your snow boots you checked the phone’s reception. Dead.

Everything felt like it was disintegrating. You thanked your lucky stars you were with Marc…Agent Marc…Agent Pike, but what if your subconscious was right? Pike would never place you in any harm, but it was clear you had worn out your welcome. You were both going your separate ways, and that was that. Maybe we don’t know each other very well at all, you paused, wondering how you were going to extricate your Californian self from this Snowpocalypse of 2024. You felt like Sally from “The Nightmare Before Christmas”, pining after a love that was never going to come to fruition. Maybe you WERE that wilting version of Donna Reed in a snood, trapped in a reality that never seemed to mirror the deepest of your desires. It was time to face the music and bring this Hallmark Movie to an anticlimactic conclusion. Just another Christmas alone. You took a deep breath, resolving to exit Marcus’ life as quickly as you had entered it. Roll credits.

Pike was rummaging around the supply closet for a flashlight upon hearing the telltale squeak of the upstairs bedroom’s opening door. You squinted as the light hit your gaze unceremoniously, covering your eyes confusedly. “What’s going on?” you slurred a bit, stumbling down the first few steps. Pike lurched forward with a hand outstretched.

“God, be careful!” he raced up the stairs, taking hold of your elbow and easing you down the stairwell. You ended up at the bottom of the stairs, more confused than ever. Were you still drunk? The television twinkled softly amidst the glowing firelight, but the room felt disorienting at best. You rubbed your eyes sleepily, attempting to form some cohesive, dawning thoughts.

“I’m okay, just waking up…” you blinked rapidly, jumping at the scratching sounds above your head and across the nearby windows. “What was that?” you asked in hushed tones, adrenaline pumping through your system like a shot.

“The storm has really picked up since…you went to bed” he cautioned, drawing his arm around your back to steady you. “I think we’re okay, but those trees are a bit closer to the cabin than I’d like. Annnnnd…I think the power lines are down” he trailed off, hoping to keep you relatively calm and safe. “The generator kicked in, but it hasn’t been in use all year. I don’t feel great about our…situation” Pike pondered, always the man of preparation.

Your eyes widened in concern, wondering how long you could last if the storm continued to intensify. “Can we call for help? I don’t have any reception. What should we do next?”.

“I tried the landline in the study, nothing is getting through yet. I’m gonna head out for a bit and check the generator to see its condition” Pike reached for his jacket, but kept his hand around your waist in solidarity. You reached towards him imploringly, freezing slightly at the unexpected revelation.

“Is that a gun?” you whispered, suddenly quivering with more than the cold. You heard the soft smile in Pike’s voice, viewing his flickering countenance in the relative dark.

“I suppose being an agent on the Art Squad isn’t that dangerous, but it IS standard issue. Just taking extra precautions, there could be wildlife that were disturbed by the storm, or other stranded motorists. I’ve got to keep you safe. I mean, keep everybody safe…” he was rubbing your back in circles as you swayed from side to side. You were feeling overwhelmed, off-kilter, and vulnerable. What kind of assistance could you possibly be in a challenging situation like this? You swallowed dryly, attempting to focus on the firelight and form a cohesive thought.

“Wait, what? Heading outside? Now?!” you began to panic slightly, grabbing at Pike’s forearm. “I don’t want to be by myself! What if we can’t contact anyone? What if you get lost in the blizzard?” your mind began to race with possibility as you felt your throat tightening with emotion. Not alone. Not again. The pandemic came racing back with all of its isolation and feelings of helplessness. Pike paused, considering the options.

“Okay, just stay behind me and don’t let go of my hand, alright?” he grasped your shoulder good-naturedly, drawing his hand up to cup your face and finding a few stray tears. “Hey, what’s this?” he drew you into his body for a close embrace, allowing you to sniffle into his chest timidly. “We’re okay” he swayed with you from side to side, rubbing your back and holding you at the neck comfortingly.

“I’m just…so sorry…for earlier” you mumbled into his chest, feeling your fatigue catching up with you. Pike pulled back, his intentionality apparent even in the void like expanse of these challenging circumstances. The fire flickered dimly in the corner adding a serene warmth to the soft smile on his face. He sighed heavily, wiping his thumb in a circular motion across your cheek tenderly. “There’s…more to say” he began, until more limbs and twigs were crashing and scraping across the nearby windows. “At this rate, I’m not sure any of us are going to be leaving tomorrow” he gulped, taking your hand in his and heading towards the door. “This Christmas is turning into a nightmare, but I’m getting us to the finish line come hell or high water” he promised, flinging the door open and bracing you both against the moderate winds.

The blast of cold air nearly knocked you over in one fell swoop, as you gripped Pike’s hand with determination. It was as though you had been plunged into a full body ice bath, as the tingling, numbing sensation of the winds whipped through your hair and very being. You had a sudden clarity of purpose and renewed energy. Squinting into the snowy winds, you blearily identified the small wood shed about fifty feet away. The wind had cleared the snow a bit, but stray detritus and tree limbs were strewn around the tundra as Pike pulled you forward ambitiously.

“Let’s go!” he shouted over the din of the intense winds, cutting a path to the woodshed, in search of the enclosed generator. “Be careful!” he advised, gripping you tightly around the waist, attempting to shield you from the blizzard which was steadily increasing by the minute. You pursed your lips doggedly, determined to be of assistance. Looking behind you, you saw Bessie the Hyundai, shivering in the cold, her front windshield had been cracked and indented by a falling tree limb. Somehow seeing her forlorn condition, increased your own, as the two of you hobbled to the nearby woodshed, desperate for a solution. Stumbling to the doorway, Pike flung the door of the woodshed open as billows of smoke came cascading out. You fell backwards in surprise, a hard blanket of snow somewhat cushioning your fall as Pike grasped at your arm securely. “Well, that’s not good!” he shouted, motioning you to stay seated as he waved the billows of smoke helplessly. “No way this is gonna last much longer!” he yelled over the din of blistering maelstrom. “I know it hasn’t been used for ages, but I was at least hoping…” a skittering sound interrupted his query as he reached for his gun quickly.

“Jesus Christ” Pike muttered, dragging you backwards and positioning you along the outside corner of the woodshed. “Stay here” he cautioned before you had a chance to argue. You saw Pike’s athletic silhouette poised on the adjacent corner, gun outstretched protectively. He disappeared from sight as you held your breath hesitantly. The winds were like a steely hand, gripping your insides and swirling with a wintery menace. You sat tentatively, bracing yourself against the wooden fixture.

“Pike?” you called, steadily becoming more and more terrified as the moments lapsed. One. Two. Three…you thought back on your therapeutic training. Take stock of your five senses. What do you see? All I can see is snow. I can’t even see my hand in front of my face, you thought. Four. Five. What do you smell? Coughing slightly, the arid bite of billowy smoke tickled your nasal passages. Six. Seven. What do you feel? I feel scared dammit, you retorted, crying out again. “Pike?”

Only the winds answered you.

What can you touch? You clasped your hands together for warmth, pining after the handhold you’d sacrificed with Pike’s temporary absence. You blew into your cupped hands for warmth. Eight. Nine.…What can you…?

“Holy hell!” Pike yelled as you heard a furious wrestling sound and then a gunshot echo in the howling winds.

“PIKE!!!!????” you screamed, covering your face in fear and tucking your body, wrapping your arms around your knees. Oh my God. You couldn’t move. You couldn’t see anything. You couldn’t feel anything. You were numb. You were nothing. You were completely alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. You rocked back and forth trying to catch your breath. “Pike. Pike. Pike. Pike” you whispered against the howling winds. You couldn’t form a thought, the world was swirling around you confusedly. You weren’t even human. A cry began to mangle at the epicenter of your sternum, radiating into your body as you sobbed hysterically. “Pike. Pike. Pike. Pike”.

Strong arms grasped you at the shoulders, shaking you ever so slightly as your head whipped up to see Marcus’ face pressed close to yours in concern. His lips were moving, but you couldn’t hear anything. You found yourself strangely disassociated, marveling at the pink in his cheeks and the snowflakes dotting his beautiful eyelashes. Not alone. Together. Pike. You and Pike. You smiled numbly, your head lolling back with exhaustion. Pike was shouting into your face, and you were smiling. Just smiling. What a nice Christmas, you thought bizarrely as Pike pulled you to your feet. You immediately collapsed into his arms as the world circled around in a vortex of cold and ice. What a nice Marcus, you thought haphazardly, feeling yourself caged against his broad chest and floating back towards the cabin. You began to hear the crunch of the snow underneath his feet, and the beating of his heart wildly against his chest. Such a pretty Christmas, you sighed, nuzzling into him for warmth and hearing the door slam behind you both abruptly. Pike laid you down on the couch as you watched him with bleary cheer, tossing more firewood into the hearth and returning to you in one quick motion.

Pike ran his hands fixedly over your entire body, looking for any injuries or wounds, as you grinned dopily, your senses quickly rushing back in arousal.

“Can you sit up?” Pike spoke, as though from another room, as your hearing started to focus on the low tones of his concerned voice.

“What?” you slurred, sitting up hesitantly and swaying with the effort. Pike ran his fingers over your scalp and down your arms, attempting to assess the situation. “Keep breathing, I’m gonna get you some water” Pike placed his hand over your sternum concernedly, quickly disappearing into the kitchen. Your thoughts were still blurry as you wondered at the magical fire crackling before you. At least one thing was aiding your survival, you mused, chewing your bottom lip numbly and placing your head between your legs weakly. You tried to take deep, centering breaths. What was going on?

“Damn!” you heard the shuddering of the pipes from the kitchen and Pike’s muted tones as he returned quickly to the living room, kneeling in front of you. “The pipes are frozen, I think” Pike complained, rubbing his hands over your arms and legs and bringing your gaze up to meet his. “Are you okay? How do you feel?” Pike swallowed dryly, looking intently into your eyes. Without thinking you flung yourself into Pike’s embrace, suddenly cognizant enough to grasp the recent chain of events. He gripped you firmly in a bear hug, swaying you gently from side to side. “Thought I lost you there for a second” he chuckled, rubbing your back warmly.

“Goddamit, Marcus!” you mumbled, pushing against his chest aggressively and falling back to the couch with exhaustion. Pike placed his hands on your knees, furrowing his brow with concern.

“I’m fine” he observed, taking off his jacket and hovering at your knees. “Did you hit your head? Are you cold?” he gazed back at the fire and looked above him as a creaking sound split the night air forebodingly.

“What the hell was that?!” you yelled, sitting up unsurely and gripping the collar of his shirt. “I thought….I thought….I don’t know what I thought!!!!” you acquiesced, gripping your hands tightly around his neck and pulling him towards you. Pike rested his forearms on your thighs, bringing his forehead lightly to yours and breathing for a moment.

“I’m here. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere” he rhythmically repeated, willing your breathing to slow, while taking stock of the situation. “It kind of freaked me out, too” he whispered. “I know animals will sometimes seek out shelter in a blizzard, but the timing couldn’t be worse…” the cabin creaked again as though in confirmation. You tried to focus on Marcus’ lips as he spoke. What beautiful lips. You’d never noticed how plush they were. So soft. And kissable. You thought back on the disastrous, if not exciting events of the previous night. Sweet. His lips actually tasted sweet. You licked yours hungrily.

“I think we caught the little guy nibbling at the power cables” Pike paused dragging his hand over your forehead with care. “Why are you looking at me like that? Are you sure you didn’t hit your head?” his voice was still echoing strangely as you blinked heavily. He shook his head continuing undauntedly, “I don’t know much about generators, but I’m assuming we don’t want them smoking like a barbecue pit” Pike chuckled nervously as you reached up to delicately finger the snowflakes in his hair. He closed his eyes contentedly, trying to steady himself. “I haven’t been that scared in ages!” he twitched with self deprecation. “I sort of caught ‘Meeko’, unannounced. He sure didn’t take it very well”, Pike sagged with relief as you ran your fingers over his scalp. Awash with confusion and exhaustion you began giggling uncontrollably.

“What? What’s so funny?” Pike grinned, opening his eyes to your tittering frame.

“Meeko?” you snickered with delight, “…like from Pocohontas? Our grand nemesis of the evening was a raccoon?” you stopped abruptly, suddenly a bit sobered. “Oh my God, did you shoot him?” you gulped, unzipping the snowsuit a bit, to defrost.

Pike shrugged comedically. “Contrary to popular belief, the Art Squad is not the Firing Squad” he jested, “I think he scared me more than I scared him. He definitely ran off in to the woods, but we are none the safer” he glanced towards the kitchen in defeat, pausing to strategize.

“Let me think out loud for a second, my mind is swimming” he reasoned, carefully standing and rubbing his forehead tiredly. “The generator is nearly gone, Bessie is officially out of commission. Landlines are down, as is our cell phone reception. We’ve still got some food, which we could chill outdoors if necessary, but the pipes are frozen. I mean, we’re literally surrounded by snow and we could just melt some of it if things get desperate. But who knows how long the generator will last, and this fire is our main source of warmth. I guess we could burn the Christmas Tree if we ran out of fire wood?” Pike heaved a hefty sigh of defeat, looking at the formerly homey symbol of holiday cheer, now figuratively going up in flames. “But at least you’re not going anywhere this Christmas Eve” Pike tried to focus on that silver lining, peering up at the ceiling with apprehension as the winds only increased their fervor.

Your addled mind flashed on your earlier nightmare, wincing at the nearly clairvoyant similarity. It seemed that one minute you couldn’t wait to stay, and now both of you were desperate to somehow find a way out. “Sounds like YOU might be the one who’s leaving me” you pouted, finally willing to confront the REAL nightmare that neither of you had addressed. Pike sighed heavily, casting his eyes to the floor in disappointment.

“Look, about that…” he began as you stood to your feet unsteadily, trying to even the playing field.

“Why in the world didn’t you say so, Agent Pike?” you teetered precariously as the room seemed to shift diagonally, bracing a hand against the couch for assistance. “How could you let me think…or why didn’t you…” realizing that once again you were at a loss for words. Why was it so hard for you to connect the dots? The pandemic had deprived you of human connection, communication…LOVE! Your life felt like it was in shambles, separate and alone, and Pike’s permanent departure was just one more example of that. Even in a blizzard you couldn’t get anyone to stay!

“Agent Pike? Are we using our Christian names now?” Marcus teased, attempting to lighten the mood after the adrenaline infused hijinks.

“Come on, I’m serious! I feel terrible for making assumptions about…you…and me…or us…or Donna Reed…” you trailed off, stumbling around the room slightly trying to assemble your thoughts cohesively.

“Hey, maybe you should sit down” Pike cautioned, extending a hand and beginning to follow you around the room tentatively. “Please, let me explain, I WANT to explain. When you kissed me last night…”…

“This is SO typical of me” you rambled, pacing in circles as the blizzard howled around you outside. “I finally become the hero of my own story and I can’t even land the guy for heaven sakes!” you protested, unzipping your snowsuit a bit further in the warmth of the fireplace. “I have main character energy!” you shouted as Pike nodded affirmatively “MAIN CHARACTER ENERGY!” you repeated, rubbing at your temples confusedly.

“You do!” Pike encouraged, following along behind you like a woebegone puppy, his hand placed gently at your back to ensure you didn’t fall over. “VERY Kate Winslet!” he supported, moving the small side table out of your way so you didn’t trip over it.

“And the moment I take matters into my own hands…” you whirled in place, gripping Pike by the collar and shaking him emphatically, “you slip right from my grasp!” you collapsed your hips against his, looking up into those glowing, chocolate-colored orbs of light.

“I’m here! You’ve got me” he rasped, holding you at the waist and inching his face closer to yours imploringly.

“No I don’t!” you huffed, beginning your pacing again with Pike in tow. “Now you’re headed off to Washington D.C, and our perfect Christmas is RUINED!” you emphasized for greater effect. “I don’t even have a gift for you! And whyyyy didn’t you tell me?” you whined falling back against Pike’s chest dramatically and slumping slightly against him. Pike propped you up by your elbow, gripping you around the waist supportively.

“Will you please sit down? Something feels off….I’m feeling off” Pike was trying to make sense of everything, but it was difficult with this splitting headache. Had the lack of sleep finally caught up with him? He didn’t even have any Merlot last night, why was everything so distorted?

You pushed away from him, swaying haphazardly in confusion. Now there were…TWO Pikes standing in front of you. Oh well, now you could TWICE as mad! The cabin groaned forcefully as the room seemed to lurch forward and back. “You know, I could really like…BOTH of you if you’d just give me a chance!” you tried to point an accusatory finger at the pair of them as Pike’s image blurred before you.

“I want to! I want more! I want YOU but…GEEZ…my head in pounding right now. Do you have a headache, too?” the Pikes curiously questioned, reaching back to steady themselves at the fireplace hearth and pinching the bridge of their noses with fatigue.

“I ought to after this nightmare!” you unzipped your snow suit all the way to your waist revealing your sparkling pink bra and fanning your face heatedly. Why the hell was it always so hot?

A dull cracking sound echoed outside as a heavy branch split through the living room window blasting an icy gale of wind through the epicenter of your conversation. Pike shielded his eyes, staggering towards you, grabbing you by waist and pulling you in.

“Careful Pink! Are you okay?” Pike shouted over the din of chaos, bringing both hands to the sides of your face and looking into the dazed expression that was mirrored back.

“I don’t feel so good…” you mumbled, your knees buckling beneath you, crumpling to the ground as Pike cradled your body to the floor. Shielding you against the wind he drew his fingers lightly across your forehead, trying to clear strands of hair away from your eyes. The two Marcus’ coalesced into one image that flickered before you like a dimming television screen before separating again into mirage like images of apprehension.

“Pink? Pink….?” his voice began to distance itself into the dull recesses of your mind as a high pitched whine moved towards the forefront. You reached up to touch his lips tenderly.

“Merry Christmas…” you droned, feeling your body simultaneously feather light and anvil heavy, wishing you had the strength to kiss him once again.

“Stay with me, Pink…” Pike’s voice vanished into an echoing chasm while your thoughts muted to a single pin prick of enlightenment.

What a beautiful nightmare, you mused…before the entire world went dark.

*thanks @unknown-till for the cool dividers!

WIP Poll

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

Check us out!

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

Pedro-Tober #3

Inspired by @alyssamariag and @norththelemon I've decided to feature curated pics/art, juxtaposed with fics and AI inspired Bitmoji. So much artistry to celebrate this October, we have our hands full. Look at these amazing artists!

Series Masterlist

13.) Javi Gutierrez: Afterglow Fic (Phoenix Rising) @pedges-world

14.) Freebie! IG: @art_faraday

15.) The Materialists: @norththelemon

16.) Whiskey: @alyssamariag

17.) Arm Sling: IG: @amakuni_s

18.) Oberyn Martell: IG: @vanessadraws

19.) SDCC: IG @vanessadraws

Also, Pedge and I are "Trick or Treating"! DM me to play!

Purple Rain (New York, New York Series)

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

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

Series Masterlist

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

Pedge.

Merde.

Here we go…

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

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

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

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

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

“There were executives there” he chuckled.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Who carezzzz?” you giggled simultaneously.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Purple Rain

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Pedro-Tober #4

Inspired by @alyssamariag and @norththelemon I've decided to feature curated pics/art, juxtaposed with fics and AI inspired Bitmoji. So much artistry to celebrate this October, look at these amazing artists! Also, it's the last week to "Trick or Treat"! Hit me up!

20.) Frankie Morales IG: VanessaDraws, "Moody Frankie" @pedges-world

21.) Curls @norththelemon

22.) Gladiator @southparkpedro

23.) Din Jarin IG: Tealspy

24.) Sundance IG: Vanessa Draws

25.) Javier Pena IG: Junes.Pegasus, Afterglow Series @pedges-world

Series Masterlist

Pedge's Bookshop Series Masterlist

Foyer: There are already so many great AU fics featuring all our favorite Pedro Boys and I'd like to showcase them! In the Coffee Shop Foyer you'll find some great rec's for coffee and books alike. Bring your library card--this if one of my favorite tropes!

Bookshop: We started this series with Joel as our bookshop owner. Reading several of Pedro Pascal's book recommendations, the bookshop continues to get more material; join in on the fun!

Crime and Punishment (with Joel Miller)

Crime and Punishment; Prologue Crime and Punishment; The Murder Crime and Punishment; The Family Crime and Punishment; The Argument Crime and Punishment; The Lecture Crime and Punishment; The Visitor Crime and Punishment; The Dinner Crime and Punishment; The Calm Crime and Punishments; Before Crime and Punishment; The Storm Crime and Punishment; The Patrol Crime and Punishment; The Wound Crime and Punishment; The Confession Crime and Punishment; The Epilogue

Novellas:

Crime and Punishment Fic-Let Crime and Punishment; The Dream Crime and Punishment; The Talk Bookstore IG

What Happened to Belen? (with Javier Pena)

Part One Part Two

In Cold Blood (with Tim Rockford)

In Cold Blood: The Exposition In Cold Blood; The Road Trip In Cold Blood; The Funeral

WIP Book Nook: There are so many amazing rec's from Pedro that I'd love to unpack! Here are some possibilities on the horizon. What fics do you want to see?

The Urge; Our History of Addiction w/ Dieter Bravo Franny and Zooey w/ Mr. Ben The Gender of Sound w/ Pedge Drive Your Plow...w/ Tim Rockford

Audible Original; The Reservoir

Ghost Radio

Pedge Pose

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

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

Pedge Tweets My Darling Muse

Hey folks! This is J, Dieter's PA :) He wanted to let you know that his sobriety is going well, but sometimes it's "a bit of a bummer". I told him, his current literary goal of researching "Crime and Punishment" might be contributing to that. He's trying to regain his artistic muse, but he needs to find new consistent ways of doing so! He's got his favorite tunes and Kit Kats, but has been moping around the house a bit. I decided to put together a quick TikTok to let his fans know he is bumbling along....

Series Masterlist

*edited with CapCut