#pp

[rezcowgirl]

CBC: "Now let's look at the Conservative headquarters"

Conservative HQ: :( :( :( :(

CBC: "Yup."

[lazysoulwriter]

only you. - pedro pascal.

requested! thank you for sending, lots of love!

---

You knew this part of Pedro's job. You really did.

Late nights on set. Red carpets. Press tours where he had to smile and laugh with people he barely knew outside of the screen. You never thought you’d be the jealous type — not with Pedro. He was warm, and loyal, and yours in every way that mattered.

But lately... lately it was harder to ignore.

You sat curled up on the couch, the TV playing some mindless sitcom you weren’t even watching. Your phone buzzed constantly on the cushion next to you — notifications, articles, tweets. PEDRO PASCAL SPOTTED GETTING CLOSE TO CO-STAR! A NEW ROMANCE BLOSSOMING ON SET? WHERE'S HIS GIRLFRIEND IN ALL THIS?

You hated how easily the words cut through you.

There were even photos — staged or not, it didn't matter. His arm slung loosely around her shoulders, both of them laughing like they shared some secret world you weren't a part of. It was for the cameras, for the movie, for publicity, you reminded yourself. They needed to sell the chemistry. You knew that.

And yet... you couldn’t shake the feeling. That tiny, ugly voice whispering in the back of your mind: What if he realizes he could have someone easier? Someone just as charming, just as magnetic, who understands this life better than you ever could?

By the time Pedro got home, your heart was a tight knot in your chest.

The door clicked open, and you quickly wiped at your eyes, pretending to be engrossed in the TV. Pedro’s voice floated down the hall, soft and tired.

"Baby? I'm home."

You answered with a weak, "Hey."

He appeared in the doorway, still wearing the casual outfit he'd thrown on after interviews — jeans, a soft, worn t-shirt that clung to him unfairly well. His hair was messy, his eyes a little puffy with exhaustion.

And yet, the moment he saw your face, he frowned. "What's wrong?"

You shook your head quickly. "Nothing. Just tired."

Pedro didn’t buy it for a second. He crossed the room, crouching in front of you so you couldn’t avoid his gaze. His hand found yours — warm, calloused, grounding.

"Talk to me, cariño."

You tried to keep it together. You really did. But it tumbled out of you anyway, raw and broken:

"I just... I know it's stupid. I know you’re just doing your job but—" Your voice cracked. "Everyone is saying things, Pedro. About you and her. About us. And I know you love me, but hearing it over and over... seeing it... it just messes with my head. It feels like maybe... maybe you deserve someone better."

Pedro’s face shifted, from confusion to heartbreak to something almost like anger — but not at you. Never at you. He squeezed your hand tightly.

"Baby. No. No. Don’t even—" He shook his head, looking almost panicked. "You’re the only person I want. The only one."

You sniffled, feeling stupid and small. "It’s just so loud, Pedro. It’s everywhere."

He took your face in his hands, gently, like you were something fragile he couldn’t afford to break.

"Then let me be louder."

You blinked at him. "What?"

Pedro stood, tugging you up with him into a tight embrace. His heart pounded against your ear where you pressed into his chest.

"I should've seen it coming," he murmured into your hair. "Should’ve realized how this would feel for you. I’m so sorry, amor. I didn’t think— I didn’t think it would hurt you."

You clutched the back of his shirt, feeling the tension bleed out of you the longer he held you.

"I don’t care about the movie, about the press," Pedro said fiercely. He leaned back just enough to look you in the eyes. "I care about you. I want everyone to know that. Everyone."

You didn’t even have time to ask what he meant before he was pulling out his phone. With one arm still around you, he opened Instagram, switched to his camera, and took a quick selfie — the two of you together, your puffy eyes and his tender smile.

He didn’t even hesitate before posting it with a caption that read:

"Coming home to my favorite person. Every day, every time. Always. ❤️"

Your mouth dropped open. "Pedro— you didn’t have to—"

"I wanted to," he cut you off, setting the phone aside to kiss your forehead. "No more rumors. No more doubts. You're it for me, baby. Always have been."

You buried your face in his chest again, overwhelmed by the way he didn’t just comfort you — he chose you. Loudly. Proudly. Without hesitation.

Later, as you curled up together under the blankets, Pedro whispered against your temple:

"I don’t care what the world says. I only care about you knowing, deep down, that you’re my home. Always."

And somehow, finally, the noise faded away — leaving only the steady, unwavering beat of his love.

-----

[queermania]

i have to meet the love of my life on tumblr because otherwise ill have to explain tumblr to them and that seems like too much work

[catacini]

hello. if you thought this post was entertaining please download and play this game my friends made. they're smarter and funnier than i am and everything i do is a commercial for their hard work

i can't delete the poll

send post

[graymer]

who else is up watching season 2 episode 5 for the thirteenth time oh okay just me

[meaningtotellyou]

yknow what. you’re right

[tobyisave]

Nearly gave up on this many times but I have to spread propaganda for my headcanon... I’m convinced that K1-B0’s weaknesses were the inspiration for Miu’s murder plot — that he can be paralyzed with his emergency stop button (from Ch.1 FTE) or presumably with an Electrohammer (keyword “hammer”). Paralyzing Kokichi to make the murder only somewhat easier always seemed convoluted to me, but it makes sense she’d take that step for granted if the whole plan was formed around it in the first place.

My point being: Miu certainly realized she could’ve killed K1-B0 whenever she felt like it, especially knowing that he would have to die either way... But instead she spent countless hours literally rewriting the laws of reality just to give his Achilles’ heel to someone else.

[bikatsukiyuuri]

so was nobody going to tell me there was actually good queer mexican representation in the oscar best picture race all along.

and was nobody going to tell me that it was in the fucking pope movie.

[megaelod]

[daveemboyker]

[thatgrainfellow]

the friend for whom this was a surprise for saw it already so now i can put it on tumblr !

hastune miku if she was from minecraft

designed in creative and replicated in survival

[lazysoulwriter]

only ever you. - pedro pascal.

requested! thank you so much for sending. (i'm sorry for taking a little longer than usual to post!)

----

You hadn’t meant to see it.

His phone had lit up on the kitchen counter at 2:13 a.m., vibrating with a soft buzz that broke the silence of the dark apartment. The name wasn’t familiar — Julia. And underneath, the preview: “You didn’t have to be so sweet last night.”

Your breath caught in your throat. You didn’t even realize you’d picked the phone up until you were staring at the message, hands trembling. The notification disappeared before you could open it, and the screen went dark again, leaving your reflection staring back at you.

You didn’t sleep after that.

Pedro stirred beside you hours later, pressing a lazy kiss to your bare shoulder like he always did. Like everything was normal. Like your heart wasn’t collapsing in slow motion.

You went through the motions of the morning. Coffee. His hand brushing yours when he passed the sugar. A soft “love you” before he left for the gym. And you nodded. You smiled, maybe. You weren’t sure. You just knew that as soon as the door closed, you sat down on the floor and tried to breathe.

You didn’t say anything for two full days. You weren’t ready.

You watched him like you were outside your own body — how he lit up when he talked about the project he was filming, how he still kissed the top of your head when he walked past the couch. You hated how badly you wanted to believe nothing had happened.

But the message replayed in your mind every time he smiled at you. So sweet last night. What the hell did that mean?

You finally broke after dinner on the third night. You were supposed to watch a movie together. Pedro had just pressed play, remote still in his hand, when you said, "Who’s Julia?"

His head turned slowly. Confused. “What?”

You hated the way your voice cracked. “Julia. She texted you. Said you were sweet. Last night.”

His whole body stilled. Remote forgotten. His brows furrowed in a way that was almost… hurt?

“Wait—what? What are you talking about?”

You hated that he looked genuinely confused. It made your stomach churn worse.

“I saw the message. I wasn’t trying to snoop, Pedro, I swear, it just—your phone lit up. I—�� You ran a hand through your hair. “I just need to know. Please.”

Silence. Long and heavy.

He stood slowly, crossing to you. His voice was calm. Too calm. “Mi amor, you think I—?” He stopped himself, jaw clenching. “I would never. You know I would never.”

“Then explain it.”

“She’s part of the cast. We had a wrap dinner last week, and she had a panic attack when the paparazzi swarmed her outside the restaurant. Everyone else was too busy acting like it was normal. I offered to call her a car, waited with her until it came. That’s it.”

Your throat tightened. “That’s all it was?”

His eyes were glassy now. “You think I’d touch another woman when I have you?” He lean closer. “When I wake up every day thinking how lucky I am that you even look at me?”

You bit your lip, trying to keep it together. “It just felt real. The message. The way she said it—like there was more.”

He reached out, hesitant, then cupped your cheek gently. “I’m an actor. I know how things can look. But I’m also a man in love, and I don’t half-ass that. I don’t play games with your heart.”

You exhaled shakily. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t think it mattered. Not because I wanted to hide anything, but because I didn’t see it as anything worth remembering. She was scared, I was nice. That’s it. You’re the only one I come home to. The only one I want.”

Your tears fell silently. He wiped them away with his thumbs, kissing your forehead, then your temple.

“I’m so sorry you felt like you had to carry that alone,” he whispered. “Next time, please just ask me. I don’t ever want to see you hurting because of something I could’ve cleared up.”

You leaned into his touch. Let yourself believe him — not because you were desperate, but because he meant it. You knew his heart. And it was yours.

“Okay,” you whispered. “I believe you.”

He kissed you then, slow and full of emotion, like he was pouring everything he couldn’t say into your lips. You melted into him, arms wrapping tight around his neck, grounding yourself in the safety of his presence.

Maybe love wasn’t always easy. But with Pedro, even the pain had purpose — and the ending was always soft.

-----

[queermania]

if i’m ever brutally murdered and everyone feels like they need to do something productive in my memory, all i want is for you to pass legislation banning LED headlights in my name. regardless of how irrelevant it is to my murder. it’s relevant to my heart.

[catacini]

this post was about transmisogynist hate mobs online. you are all so fucking stupid i'm sorry. i don't even have anything else to say honestly just play proverbs of hell

[hasnomouth]

RR doodles idk what to call it

They will be publicly executed tomorrow my friends have decided