#physicology

[teachingrounds]

This week is a grab-bag on management of patients with renal failure, with a particular focus on diet and antihypertensive medications. For instance, did you know...if a patient eats a lot of carbs before hemodialysis, that draws blood to their gut and lowers their blood pressure. In order to maintain sufficient blood pressure, it is better to eat a protein-rich meal or nothing at all before dialysis.

Image Source: Wikipedia

[sarasbooksonline]

Annual Review Of Physiology Vol.85,2023, Annual Review (1 January 2023) DM for Order sarasbooksonline.com Contact : +91-9958491228

[kanene-yaaay]

the way i want to write a mouthwashing tickle fic so bad,,,,,, with plenty of cuteness and fun and lovely moments,,,,but everytime I think about the game I take physical damage and get sad,,,,,

Can't even daydream about them because I can count on the fingers of one hand (and still have fingers left) worst places to be than that spaceship sdfghujklçlkiuhytfr bruh

[blogencenamais]

Longlegs - Vínculo Mortal (Longlegs,2024), thriller com Nicolas Cage entra em cartaz nas salas de cinemas dia 29/08/24

A agente do FBI Lee Harker é designada para um caso envolvendo um serial killer impiedoso que se auto-intitula Longlegs. O assassino costuma deixar pistas com símbolos nas cenas do crime que apenas a agente é capaz de decifrar. A investigação toma rumos inesperados, enquanto Harker descobre uma conexão macabra com o assassino.

[lesbicastagna]

i dont talk much about my fixation because its a if i loved you less i might be able to talk about it more situation

[theetherealbloom]

IT COULD HAPPEN TO YOU - CH.4

Chapter Four: Everybody Wonders What It Would Be Like To Love You

Summary: You find yourself sharing a hotel suite with Pedro Pascal while working on the set of Fantastic Four: First Steps. Despite your different roles—he’s the star, and you’re behind the scenes. Nothing could ever happen between you two… right?

Paring: Pedro Pascal x F!Reader

Warnings: Age-Gap Romance (Not Specified), Eventual SMUT, Crush, FLUFF, Slight Angst, Trope(s), Swearing, Anxiety, Lots of Cliches, Cheesy Dialogue, Romance, Kissing, Real People Fiction, Cameras, Paparazzi, Social Media, Swoonworthy, One-Room Trope, They were roommates, Strangers-to-Lovers, Actors, Hallmark Tropes, the reader can sing and play guitar, the reader is shorter than Pedro, the reader has hair, Alternate Universe, Awkward!Reader, Shy!Reader, Fan Girl!Reader, Cringe, Embarrassment, Starstruck, Bullying, Physicological Bullying, Mean Girls,

Word Count: 6.4k

A/N: Heads up, there’s a bully in this chapter but dw, you got Pedro on your side hehe. Again, this is all fictional. To any Cecilia’s out there irl, no hate to you girl, I don’t even know you LOL.

Side note: I’m dyslexic and English isn’t my first language! So I apologize in advance for the spelling and/or grammatical errors. As always, reblogs, comments, and likes are always appreciated. Thank you and happy reading!

Song: gold rush by Taylor Swift

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PINEWOOD STUDIOS — MORNING  

The hum of set life surrounded you like a familiar melody—the rhythmic chatter of crew members, the distant clatter of equipment being adjusted, the occasional burst of laughter from someone off-camera. You moved through it all with ease, exchanging quick words with a fellow PA as you double-checked the last-minute details before call time.  

You didn’t notice him watching you.  

Pedro sat in the makeup chair, already in costume, his eyes drifting away from the mirror as Coco worked her hands through his hair. His body was still, but his mind was somewhere else. Or rather—on someone else.  

It was the way you tilted your head as someone from production rattled off instructions, your brows furrowing slightly in concentration. The way you shifted your weight from one foot to the other, nodding once before offering a soft, assured smile. You weren’t just hearing what they were saying—you were listening, absorbing every detail like you belonged here. Like you had always belonged.  

He felt something tighten in his chest.  

God, you made him feel strange.  

It was the words that stuck in his throat when you were near, the way his pulse stuttered for no damn reason. The way his thoughts—usually so steady, so controlled—felt unruly around you. It was dizzying. Unsettling.  

It had been a long time since he’d felt like this. Since he’d been caught so completely off guard by someone.  

And yet, he couldn’t stop himself from looking for you.  

In the crowd. In the moments between takes. In the quiet spaces where he thought maybe—just maybe—you were looking for him, too.

PINEWOOD STUDIOS — AFTERNOON

Lunch break rolled around, bringing a much-needed lull in the day’s chaos. The crew scattered—some retreating to their trailers, others grabbing quick bites from catering, the energy shifting into something looser, more relaxed.  

Your phone buzzed just as you were sitting down at one of the outdoor tables, the screen lighting up with a message.  

Pedro: Wanna grab a bite later?  

You smiled to yourself, thumbs already moving across the screen.  

You: I do, but I kinda wanna hang with my friends for a bit too.  

His response came almost immediately.  

Pedro: Oh yeah, of course. Mind if I tag along?

You hesitated for half a second. Not because you didn’t want him there—but because you weren’t sure if he really wanted to be there.  

You: Are you sure? 

Pedro: Obviously.  

So that’s how Pedro Pascal ended up at lunch with you and your friends, settling into the group like he had always belonged there.  

He was easy to talk to, of course. He charmed his way through introductions, seamlessly jumping into conversations, laughing in all the right places, making everyone feel like they were the most interesting person in the room. But his attention always had a way of drifting back to you.  

The way you scrunched your nose as you tried to pick apart a joke someone had made. The way your eyes lit up as you talked about some old inside story with your friends. The way you were currently demolishing a cookie like it was the best thing you’d ever tasted.  

Pedro noticed.  

He didn’t say anything, but he noticed.  

His lips twitched as you took another enthusiastic bite, completely unaware of his amusement.  

There were other things, too—subtle things. The brush of his knee against yours under the table, lingering just a second longer than necessary. The way his fingers would graze your wrist when he leaned in to say something, as if testing the waters. The way his eyes would flick to your lips when you spoke before quickly darting away, as if he hadn’t meant to.  

And then, of course, there was the teasing.  

"Did you even taste that cookie, or did you just inhale it?" Pedro mused, finally breaking his silence, amusement lacing his voice.  

You swallowed the last bite, leveling him with a mock glare. "It’s really good."  

He smirked. "Clearly."  

"Don’t judge me."  

"Never." The word came softer than expected, a little too sincere for just teasing. His gaze held yours for a beat longer than necessary, something unreadable flickering behind his eyes.  

Your heart stuttered.  

He looked away first, but not before you caught the slightest hint of pink creeping up the tips of his ears. It was such a small thing—barely there, really—but you noticed. And it made something warm unfurl in your chest.  

The conversation around the table carried on, your friends swapping stories and teasing each other between bites of food. Pedro chimed in here and there, laughing along, but every now and then, you felt his gaze flick back to you.  

You were hyper-aware of him now. The way his arm rested casually on the back of your chair, not quite touching but close enough that you could feel his warmth. The way his fingers absentmindedly drummed against the table, his other hand occasionally brushing against yours as he reached for his drink.  

Then, he sighed, pulling his phone from his pocket, frowning slightly at the screen.  

"Ugh, my phone’s about to die."  

Without hesitation, you reached into your bag, pulling out your power bank and a charging cord. "Oh, no worries, here—use this."  

Pedro blinked, momentarily caught off guard.  

You handed it over without a second thought, already turning back to your food. But he didn’t move to plug his phone in right away. Instead, he just looked at you, something unreadable in his expression.  

His fingers brushed against yours as he took the charger, his touch lingering just a fraction longer than necessary.  

“You just carry this around with you?” he asked, his voice quieter now, something softer beneath the teasing edge.  

You shrugged, popping another bite of food into your mouth. “Yeah, of course. Never know when you might need it.”  

His lips quirked, but he didn’t say anything right away.  

Instead, he plugged in his phone, then glanced back at you, shaking his head slightly like he couldn’t quite believe you.  

"What?" you asked, raising an eyebrow.  

Pedro exhaled a small laugh, tucking the power bank into his lap like it was something precious. "Nothing. You’re just—" He paused, searching for the right word, before finally settling on, "—thoughtful."  

Something about the way he said it made your stomach flip.  

You swallowed, suddenly feeling self-conscious under his gaze. "It’s just a charger, Pedro."  

"Yeah," he murmured, still watching you. "I know."  

But his expression said something else entirely.

You weren’t sure what to do with that look—the quiet weight of his gaze, the way he seemed to be memorizing you like you were something worth studying. So, instead of dwelling on it, you reached into your bag and pulled out your notepad and pen.

Doodling had always been second nature to you. Something to keep your hands busy while your mind wandered. While your friends continued chatting, their voices washing over you in waves, you let your pen glide over the paper in absentminded strokes.

Pedro, however, wasn’t nearly as distracted.

From the corner of his eye, he watched, his attention flicking between you and the small spirals and shapes forming beneath your fingers. It was mesmerizing in a way he didn’t expect. The way your brow furrowed ever so slightly when you concentrated. The way your pen tapped softly against the pad before committing to a new line.

He shifted in his seat, subtly angling himself so he could get a better look.

It wasn’t just mindless scribbles.

You were sketching. Really sketching.

A rough outline of the restaurant table, the glasses, the crumpled napkins. And just beside that, the faint beginnings of a face—strong jaw, slightly furrowed brows, lips curved at the edges as if they were on the verge of a smirk.

His lips.

Pedro’s throat tightened.

"That me?" he asked, voice pitched just low enough for only you to hear.

Your pen paused mid-stroke, and you glanced up at him, caught. He wasn’t teasing, not really. If anything, there was something almost—fond—about the way he was looking at you.

You shrugged, offering a sheepish smile. "Maybe."

Pedro huffed out a laugh, shaking his head. "I didn’t know you could draw."

"It’s just something I do when I’m listening," you admitted, flipping the page like it was nothing.

But he didn’t think it was nothing.

He wanted to say something else, something lighthearted to keep you from looking so shy about it, but before he could, one of your friends called your name, pulling your attention away.

Pedro exhaled, leaning back in his seat, but his gaze lingered on you for a moment longer.

Thoughtful. Talented.

Yeah. He was absolutely in trouble.

PINEWOOD STUDIOS — AFTERNOON

The shift in the air was subtle at first, almost imperceptible.

But you felt it.

It was the way certain conversations would quiet just as you approached. The way people who had once been warm and welcoming now exchanged knowing glances when they thought you weren’t looking. The way whispers followed in your wake, hushed giggles that felt anything but good-natured.

And at the center of it all was Cecilia.

She was the kind of woman people noticed when she walked into a room—stunning, sharp-witted, and utterly ruthless when it came to getting what she wanted.

And for whatever reason, she had decided that you were a problem.

At first, it was small things. A pointed look. A lingering smirk. A brush of her shoulder against yours as she passed by.

But then, it escalated.

"Did you hear?" one of her friends whispered just loud enough as you walked by. "She totally forced her way onto this project. Some kind of nepotism thing, I bet."

"Ugh, so cringe," another voice giggled. "She acts all sweet, but like, we know the truth."

You gritted your teeth, kept your head down, and moved along.

You weren’t stupid. You knew exactly what this was. Psychological warfare disguised as petty gossip. You’d seen it before, and you'd see it again.

The worst part?

You refused to let it get to you.

At least, that’s what you told yourself.

Pedro noticed.

It started with the way you brushed things off too quickly, like you were trying not to care. The way your usual smiles didn’t quite reach your eyes. The way your laugh—one of his new favorite sounds—had dulled just a fraction, too forced, too polite.

And Pedro wasn’t an idiot.

He saw the way Cecilia and her group slinked around set like vipers, the way their eyes always seemed to flick toward you before whispering behind manicured hands.

It pissed him off.

But when he asked about it, you just waved it away.

“Nothing’s wrong.” You shrugged, reaching for a prop clipboard. “Just tired. Long day.”

Pedro arched a brow. “Really? That’s it?”

“Yep.”

He studied you for a moment, then exhaled through his nose. “You’re a terrible liar.”

That made you scoff. “I am fine.”

“Uh-huh.” He crossed his arms, tilting his head slightly. “So, you’re totally cool with the whole… weird vibe around here lately?”

You hesitated. Just for a second.

It was enough.

“Pedro,” you sighed, shaking your head. “It’s not a big deal. I don’t care what they think, okay? It’s just… you know how some people are. They get bored.”

“They get mean,” he corrected.

You frowned, looking away.

He softened, tilting his head to meet your gaze. “You don’t have to pretend it doesn’t suck.”

You swallowed, fingers tightening around the clipboard.

“It doesn’t suck,” you insisted. “Because I don’t care.”

Pedro’s stare was unwavering, but you held your ground.

Because if you admitted it did hurt—if you let yourself feel it—you weren’t sure you’d be able to stop.

And you weren’t going to let them win.

Pedro sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Fine. You don’t care," he murmured. "But if you ever do care… you’ll tell me, right?"

Something in your chest tightened at that.

You forced a small, teasing smile. “Wow, Pedro. That almost sounded like a serious conversation.”

He rolled his eyes but smirked. "Yeah, yeah. Don’t get used to it."

And just like that, the tension cracked, relief flickering behind his gaze.

For now, he’d let you pretend you were fine.

But he’d also be watching.

TWO DAYS BEFORE THE WEEKEND…

PINEWOOD STUDIOS — MORNING

The next two days were a slow, grating kind of miserable.

It started with small things—so small that if you weren’t paying attention, you might have convinced yourself they were nothing. The way conversations would quiet just as you walked past, the barely-concealed laughter from across the room, the occasional, suspiciously misplaced item that had definitely been right where you left it.

It was the kind of thing that chipped away at you in small, insidious ways.

Like the way Cecilia and her friends would conveniently stand right where you needed to go, their backs turned but their voices just loud enough.

“I swear, some people just don’t belong here.”

You’d walk past without reacting, even as the words burrowed under your skin.

Or the way your neatly organized stack of call sheets had been mysteriously scattered all over the breakroom counter when you came back from a coffee run. No one claimed responsibility, but Cecilia had walked by, tossing you a slow, syrupy-sweet, “Oops, was that important?” before sauntering off.

You clenched your jaw. Breathed through it.

Not worth it.

But then there were the more deliberate moments.

Like the wardrobe rack incident.

You had been helping move costumes between trailers when Cecilia and one of her friends conveniently brushed past, sending a precariously hung dress tumbling to the ground.

“Oh no,” Cecilia pouted, pressing a hand to her chest with mock concern. “You should really be more careful.”

You bent to pick it up, biting back the sharp retort on the tip of your tongue. The last thing you needed was to give her the satisfaction of a reaction.

Still, your fingers trembled slightly as you smoothed out the fabric and rehung it.

Then, there was lunch.

You had been balancing a plate of food in one hand, your phone in the other, when one of Cecilia’s friends accidentally knocked your elbow in passing.

It was a tiny movement. Just enough to send your fork clattering to the floor, just enough to make you hesitate—because was it intentional? Or were you just being paranoid?

“Careful,” the girl sing-songed over her shoulder, giggling as she caught up with Cecilia.

You let out a slow breath. Swallowed back the lump in your throat.

Not worth it.

So you kept your head up, kept moving, kept going. You told yourself that if you didn’t acknowledge it, if you pretended it didn’t exist, then it couldn’t touch you.

Right?

But it did.

Because by the time you got back to your trailer that night, you had to sit on the edge of your bed and press the heels of your hands into your eyes, breathing slow, measured breaths to keep yourself from crying.

Because it was working.

Because no matter how much you told yourself you were fine, no matter how much you smiled and laughed and acted unbothered, the cracks were starting to show.

You barely had a moment to yourself.  

Between running last-minute errands for production, keeping up with the crew’s rapid-fire instructions, and dodging the subtle but constant hostility radiating from Cecilia and her group, you were stretched thin.  

The exhaustion was creeping in—settling in the space between your ribs, behind your eyes, in the way your shoulders sat just a little tighter than usual.  

But you wouldn’t give them the satisfaction.  

So you pushed through, past the carefully calculated inconveniences. The way they always seemed to cut in front of you when you were in a hurry, the stolen side-eyes and smirks exchanged whenever you spoke in a group, the way your things somehow always ended up in different places than you’d left them.  

You pretended not to notice when Cecilia’s voice turned just a little too loud whenever she spoke to someone near you.  

"Oh my god, you know what I hate? When people think just anyone can belong in this industry. Like… babe, you’re only here because they needed extra hands. It’s cute, though."  

You told yourself not to react.  

Even when Daisy—who had been standing beside you, her grip tightening on her clipboard—made a noise that sounded a lot like she was about to launch herself across the room.  

“It’s whatever,” you had muttered, tugging her back before she could make a scene.  

Daisy had narrowed her eyes. “It’s not whatever. She’s being a bitch.”  

You had only sighed. “I know.”  

Omar wasn’t as easily convinced.  

The next morning, when you found him loitering near Cecilia’s usual coffee spot, arms crossed and expression unreadable, you had to physically drag him away before he did something stupid.  

“Do not get yourself in trouble over this.”  

“She’s messing with you,” he seethed. “I hate people like her.”  

“She’s not worth it,” you said, but even to your own ears, your voice sounded too thin, too tight.  

Omar wasn’t buying it. “Okay, but are you okay?”  

You hesitated. The truth was, you weren’t sure anymore.  

The worst part wasn’t the pettiness or the whispered insults—it was the fact that it was working. That somehow, in all the noise and nonsense, they had managed to make you feel small.  

But admitting that felt too much like defeat.  

So you forced a smile. “I’m fine.”  

Omar gave you a long, knowing look before muttering something under his breath and stalking off.  

That afternoon, as you sat on a bench outside the studio, your notebook balanced on your lap, you felt a shadow fall over you.  

“Hey,” Pedro’s voice was soft.  

You glanced up, startled. “Oh. Hey.”  

His brows knit together. “You okay?”  

You blinked. “What?”  

“You’ve been… different.” His voice was measured, careful. “Quieter.”  

You tried to play it off, shaking your head with a small laugh. “I’m just tired. Long shoot days, you know how it is.”  

Pedro didn’t look convinced.  

For a moment, he just stood there, watching you with that steady, unreadable gaze of his. Like he was sifting through the words you weren’t saying, trying to make sense of them.  

Then, without another word, he sat down beside you.  

Close enough that his arm brushed against yours.  

You tensed, just slightly, before exhaling.  

Neither of you spoke for a moment.  

Then—  

“Can I see?” he asked, nodding toward your notebook.  

You hesitated.  

It was just mindless doodles—tiny flowers curling around the corners of the pages, half-finished sketches of set pieces, a rough outline of something that might have been Pedro’s profile if you hadn’t abandoned it halfway through.  

You felt a little embarrassed, but you handed it to him anyway.  

Pedro flipped through the pages, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “These are really good.”  

You rolled your eyes. “They’re just sketches.”  

“Still,” he murmured, fingers skimming over the paper. “They’re yours.”  

There was something about the way he said it—soft, sincere—that made your stomach tighten.  

For the first time in two days, something in you eased.  

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.  

And when Pedro leaned in, just slightly, warmth radiating from his shoulder where it rested against yours, you didn’t move away.

Pedro was still flipping through your sketches when a sharp, saccharine voice cut through the air.  

“Oh wow, there you are, Pedro. I was wondering when you’d finally come up for air.”  

Cecilia.  

You felt your whole body go rigid.  

Pedro barely glanced up, his fingers still tracing one of your sketches absentmindedly. “Hey.” His voice was flat, distracted.  

She took a step closer, her presence invasive in a way that made your skin prickle. “I was just telling the others how dedicated you are to your work. You know, always finding ways to get into character.” Her gaze flicked toward you, her smile not quite reaching her eyes. “Even off set.”  

You swallowed hard.  

Your chest felt tight, exhaustion pressing against your ribs, making it harder to keep your expression neutral. You were already hanging by a thread, stretched too thin over the last two days, and Cecilia knew it.  

Pedro, still looking down at your notebook, gave a vague hum of acknowledgment, barely engaging. It wasn’t the reaction Cecilia had been hoping for, and you could see it. The way her expression twitched for half a second before smoothing over again.  

She tilted her head, the corners of her mouth curling. “It’s sweet, though. That you take the time to entertain people. I mean, it’s not like everyone gets that kind of attention from you.” She let out a light, airy laugh that made your stomach turn. “Guess it pays to be in the right place at the right time, huh?”  

The implication was clear.  

You clenched your jaw, willing yourself not to react.  

But then—  

“Cecilia,” Pedro’s voice was calm, but there was an edge to it now. His fingers tapped against the notebook, his expression unreadable. “What are you doing?”  

Cecilia blinked, all faux innocence. “What do you mean?”  

Pedro finally lifted his head, and when he met her gaze, something in his expression shifted—something sharp, something distinctly unimpressed.  

“I mean, what are you doing?” His voice was just as smooth as before, but there was weight behind it now. “Because if you’re here to talk about the shoot, you should probably be talking to the crew.”  

Cecilia’s smile faltered.  

It was subtle, but you caught it.  

She opened her mouth, probably to smooth things over, but Pedro was already looking back at you, tilting the notebook toward you slightly, as if she weren’t even standing there.  

“You should finish this one,” he murmured, tapping his finger against the half-finished sketch of his profile. “It’s really good.”  

You could feel Cecilia’s eyes burning into you, but Pedro wasn’t giving her anything to work with.  

Her lips parted, like she might try again, but then she seemed to think better of it. Instead, she let out a small, sharp exhale through her nose, rolling her eyes as she turned on her heel and stalked off.  

The moment she was gone, you let out a slow, shaky breath, your hands gripping your notebook a little tighter.  

Pedro glanced over, brow furrowed. “You okay?”  

You nodded, even though your throat was tight. “I just…” A deep inhale. “I think I need a break.”  

Pedro studied you for a long moment. Then, without a word, he reached out, resting his hand over yours where it lay against the bench.  

Warm. Steady.  

Grounding.  

“Let’s take one, then,” he murmured.  

And for the first time in days, you let yourself lean into it.

The evening air was crisp, carrying the lingering scent of rain on the pavement as the last of the crew wrapped up for the day. You were exhausted, your body aching from hours on set, but when Pedro leaned in—voice low and warm—you felt something in you unwind.  

“Wanna grab dinner before heading back?”  

You blinked up at him, a little caught off guard. “Like… out-out?”  

His lips quirked into a small smile, hands slipping into the pockets of his jeans. “Yeah. Out-out.”  

You hesitated, glancing around as crew members bustled past, some already heading toward the shuttle van waiting to take everyone back to the hotel. “But, like… what if people see me with you?”  

Pedro gave you a look. “So?”  

“So… you’re you,” you gestured vaguely at him, “and I’m just—”  

He cut you off with a quiet scoff, shaking his head. “Nope. We’re not doing that again. You’re you. And I wanna have dinner with you. End of discussion.”  

The finality in his tone made your stomach flip.  

You bit your lip, then nodded. “…Okay.”  

Pedro’s face softened, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he bumped your shoulder lightly. “Good.”  

By the time you both made it to the shuttle van, most of the cast and crew were already piling in.  

Vanessa was the first to notice. She raised an eyebrow, a slow grin spreading across her face. “Ohhh, where are you two off to?”  

Before you could answer, Joseph leaned forward from his seat. “Are we witnessing a secret rendezvous?”  

Ebon chuckled, shaking his head. “A little late-night dinner date?”  

Coco, already buckled in, smirked knowingly. “Have funnnn,” she teased, dragging out the last syllable.  

You rolled your eyes, heat creeping up your neck. Pedro, for his part, was completely unfazed, flashing them an easy smile as he opened the door for you. “Don’t wait up,” he called, earning a chorus of laughter and whistles from the others as he shut it behind you.  

The restaurant wasn’t far—a quiet little spot tucked away from the main streets. The walk there was peaceful, the city buzzing around you but never pressing in too close.  

Pedro, dressed down in a hoodie, jeans, a baseball cap, and his glasses, was trying his best to blend in. But even like this, effortlessly casual, he still had a presence. He still walked like he took up space, like the world had to move around him.  

The height difference was almost comical. You felt it every time he turned his head down to look at you, every time his arm brushed against yours.  

“You sure you’re okay?” he asked suddenly, breaking the comfortable silence.  

You glanced up at him, caught off guard. “What?”  

Pedro gave you a look, one that made it clear he wasn’t buying whatever act you thought you were pulling. “Cecilia.”  

Your stomach twisted.  

You exhaled slowly, shaking your head. “It’s not a big deal.”  

Pedro stopped walking.  

You took two more steps before realizing, turning back to find him standing there, arms crossed, brows drawn together in frustration.  

He looked at you, really looked at you. “Of course, it’s a big deal,” he said, voice quieter now but firm. “If it’s hurting you, it’s a big deal.”  

You swallowed.  

The weight of his concern settled over you, warm and heavy. No one had ever really said that before. That what you were feeling mattered. That you weren’t just overreacting.  

Something in your chest cracked open, just a little.  

“…I just don’t want to make a thing out of it,” you admitted, voice small.  

Pedro’s features softened. He stepped closer, dipping his head slightly to meet your eyes. “You don’t have to,” he murmured. “But you don’t have to pretend it doesn’t bother you, either.”  

A lump formed in your throat.  

And then, just as easily as he had turned serious, he pulled back, tilting his head toward the restaurant. “C’mon. Food first, then we plot Cecilia’s demise.”  

A laugh bubbled out of you before you could stop it.  

Pedro grinned, pleased with himself, before nudging your shoulder with his own.  

And as you walked the rest of the way, some of the weight on your chest didn’t feel quite so heavy anymore.

The restaurant was dimly lit, warm and intimate in a way that made the rest of the world feel far away. Soft jazz hummed through the air, mixing with the quiet murmur of conversation and the occasional clinking of glasses. The hostess greeted you both with a polite smile, barely sparing a glance at Pedro—either because she didn’t recognize him or, more likely, was being professional about it.  

Pedro let you choose the table, and you picked one near the window, a cozy little booth that felt tucked away from the rest of the diners. As you slid into your seat, Pedro pulled off his cap, running a hand through his messy curls before setting it down on the table.  

He looked… comfortable. Relaxed. And yet, there was still something unreadable in his expression as he watched you settle in.  

“You know,” he started, leaning forward on his elbows, “I’m kind of mad at you.”  

You blinked, caught off guard. “What? Why?”  

“Because,” he huffed, “I’ve been trying to get you alone for days, and the first time it actually happens, it’s because some Mean Girls knockoff has been making your life miserable.”  

You snorted. “So dramatic.”  

“I am dramatic,” he agreed, eyes crinkling at the corners. “But seriously. I don’t like that it took this for me to get to steal you away.”  

There was something in the way he said it—lighthearted, sure, but laced with something else. Something quieter. More honest.  

Your stomach flipped.  

Before you could figure out how to respond, the waiter appeared, handing over menus. Pedro thanked him with a charming smile before glancing back at you. “What are you in the mood for?”  

You shrugged, scanning the options. “Something warm.”  

Pedro hummed. “Soup?”  

“Maybe.”  

“Or,” he wiggled his eyebrows, “we get a huge plate of pasta and reenact Lady and the Tramp.”  

You rolled your eyes, laughing. “Absolutely not.”  

Pedro placed a hand over his heart in mock offense. “Wow. That was a little too fast. Like you’ve thought about rejecting me before.”  

You bit your lip, trying to fight the smile threatening to break free. He made it so easy to forget the exhaustion pressing down on you, the weight of the last few days.  

The waiter came back, and you both placed your orders—him getting some kind of hearty stew, you settling on a creamy pasta dish. The conversation flowed as effortlessly as ever, touching on everything and nothing all at once.  

At some point, Pedro leaned back in his seat, stretching his legs out beneath the table. His knee brushed against yours, but he didn’t move away. Neither did you.  

“So.” His voice was softer now, less teasing. “Cecilia.”  

You sighed, slumping slightly. “Can we not?”  

“We can,” Pedro allowed. “But I still hate it.”  

You fiddled with the hem of your sleeve, tracing the fabric between your fingers. “It’s not like she’s saying anything outright cruel. Just little things. Looks. Comments. Stuff that doesn’t sound like much but still…”  

Pedro’s jaw ticked. His fingers drummed absently against the table. “That’s how people like her work. They know how to make you feel like you’re imagining it.”  

You swallowed, looking down. “Yeah.”  

A beat of silence stretched between you. Then—  

“Do you want me to talk to her?”  

Your head snapped up. “What? No.”  

Pedro tilted his head, eyeing you. “Why not?”  

“Because,” you exhaled sharply, “I don’t need you to fight my battles.”  

His gaze softened, a flicker of something fond in his eyes. “I know you don’t. But I also know that you’re tired. And I hate seeing you like this.”  

Something in you wavered.  

Pedro sighed, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “I just—God, I don’t get it. How could anyone not adore you?”  

Your breath hitched.  

The words were so sincere, so effortless, like he wasn’t even trying to be charming—just saying what was in his heart.  

Heat crept up your neck. You looked away, focusing on the flickering candle in the middle of the table. “You’re biased.”  

“Maybe,” he admitted. “But that doesn’t mean I’m wrong.”  

You let out a breathy laugh, shaking your head. “You’re ridiculous.”  

Pedro grinned. “And yet, here you are. Having dinner with me.”  

“Unfortunately.”  

He clutched his chest in mock agony. “You wound me.”  

The waiter arrived with your food, and Pedro’s dramatic antics were temporarily forgotten as the delicious aroma filled the air. As you picked up your fork, he reached across the table, his fingers brushing against the back of your hand—just for a second, just long enough to send a small shiver up your spine.  

“Hey,” he murmured.  

You glanced up, and for the first time all day, you felt seen.  

“Don’t let her get to you,” Pedro said, voice gentle but firm. “You’re worth so much more than whatever bullshit she’s trying to pull.”  

Something tightened in your chest.  

You swallowed, nodding. “Okay.”  

Pedro studied you for a moment, then smiled. “Good.”  

The weight on your shoulders didn’t disappear entirely, but it softened, melted into something manageable under the glow of candlelight and Pedro’s unwavering attention. You let yourself relax, let yourself exist in this small, intimate moment where it was just the two of you, where the laughter was easy and the warmth between you was something real, something steady.  

Pedro caught your gaze mid-conversation, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he leaned in just slightly. “There she is.”  

You blinked, tilting your head. “What?”  

“That smile,” he said simply. “Haven’t seen it in a while.”  

Heat bloomed in your chest, warm and unfamiliar, something delicate but deep. You rolled your eyes, but it lacked any real bite. “You’re ridiculous.”  

“And yet,” Pedro teased, mirroring your words from earlier, “here you are.”  

You shook your head, lips twitching. “Unfortunate, really.”  

Pedro pressed a dramatic hand to his chest. “Wow. First, I get turned down for Lady and the Tramp, and now this? My ego is in shambles.”  

You laughed, a real, unguarded sound, and he grinned like that was exactly what he was hoping for.  

The conversation stretched long into the night, ebbing and flowing between playful teasing and quiet sincerity. The kind of talk that felt effortless, that felt safe.  

Somewhere between the last bites of food and the soft hum of the restaurant around you, Pedro reached across the table, his fingers skimming yours. The touch was featherlight, a quiet question rather than a demand. You could have pulled away.  

But you didn’t.  

Instead, you let your fingers curl around his, grounding, steady.  

Pedro didn’t say anything—he just squeezed your hand, a silent promise, and you squeezed back.  

Outside, the night air was crisp, carrying the distant sounds of the city with it. The restaurant door shut softly behind you, leaving you and Pedro standing beneath the glow of streetlights, his cap pulled low, his glasses perched on his nose.  

It should have felt different—stepping back into reality after the small bubble of warmth inside the restaurant. But somehow, it didn’t.  

Pedro rocked back on his heels, hands tucked into his pockets. “Still okay?”  

You exhaled, watching as your breath curled into the night air. “Yeah,” you admitted, surprising yourself. “I think I am.”  

Pedro studied you for a beat, then nodded, satisfied.

It turns out Vanessa, Coco, Joseph and Ebon got dinner somewhere else in town away from the two of you and they were waiting already in the shuttle and as soon as you both stepped inside, the teasing started. “Ohhh, look who finally decided to show up,” Vanessa sang, kicking her feet up on the seat in front of her, eyes sparkling with mischief.

Joseph smirked from his spot by the window, arms crossed over his chest. “How romantic was it, really? Scale of one to ten?”

Coco grinned. “I’m betting solid eight.” Ebon scoffed. “Nah, Pedro’s smooth—at least a nine.” Pedro sighed dramatically, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You guys seriously have nothing better to do?” Vanessa waved a hand. “Nope. Now spill.” You rolled your eyes, buckling your seatbelt as the van pulled away from the curb. “We ate dinner. Like normal people. And then we walked outside. Like normal people.” Coco squinted. “That’s exactly what someone who did kiss would say.” Pedro groaned, leaning his head back against the seat, while you fought the smile tugging at your lips. Joseph held out his hands. “Okay, okay, let’s be serious for a second. Was it cute at least?” You blinked at him. “Was what cute?” “The date—” “It wasn’t a date,” you and Pedro said at the same time. A pause.

Then Vanessa gasped, clutching her chest. “You’re already finishing each other’s sentences?” “Oh my God,” Pedro mumbled under his breath. The laughter rolled through the van, easy and infectious, and despite the relentless teasing, despite the way your face burned under their knowing looks, you couldn’t help but feel… good.

The knot in your chest—the one that had been coiled so tight these past few days—had loosened. Maybe not completely, but enough that breathing didn’t feel so hard. Pedro shifted beside you, turning his head so only you could hear him. “They’re never gonna let this go.” You sighed. “Yeah. I figured.” His shoulder brushed yours, a quiet reassurance, and when he spoke again, there was something soft in his voice. “You sure you’re okay?” You hesitated. Because truthfully, the weight of the past few days still sat heavy on your shoulders. Cecilia had made sure of that. The quiet digs, the passive-aggressive comments, the knowing smirks—it was a kind of exhaustion that seeped into your bones. But right now, in the warmth of this moment, with Pedro looking at you like he actually cared about the answer, you found yourself saying— “I think I will be.” Pedro studied you for a beat, then nodded, satisfied. It was a small thing—just a simple gesture, barely more than a shift of his head. But somehow, it carried more weight than it should have, like he was silently saying I see you. I hear you. You swallowed. It was nice to have a friend. But then—was that all this was? You glanced at him again, at the way he was sat with you so easily, like he’d always been meant to be there. At the way he felt beside you, like a quiet anchor in the storm of the last few days.

End Notes:

I told you there would be drama O_O

Again, no hate to any girlie named Cecilia, everyone calm.

Don’t worry girlies… it will turn out fine, mostly… I think… ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

YA'LL SEEN THE TEASER TRAILER!?!?!? IM UNWELL AND DYING AND SO EXCITED AND I WANT TO MELT AND DIE VANESSA KIRBY YOU LUCKY WOMAN I WANNA KISS HIM TOO T^T

TAGLIST: @comfortzonequeen @christinamadsen @liciafonseca @greenwitchfromthewoods @iqr-x @southernbe @maryfanson @brittmb115 @klajmekk @taytay0403 @whimsiwitchy @zymiii @sarahhxx03 @leilanixx @lilasskicker-23 @https-murdock @barnescamboy

[astroariska]

ASTROLOGY OBSERVATION [Chapter 5] ✨ - The North Node Version

North node represent the new growth we are heading into. So it's very normal if you feel like you are uncomfortable to do everything related your north node chart.

But when you did it, your life starts to change

Once a Virgo north node started to get their fruits smoothies instead of wine, slow cooked meals instead of takeouts and having their schedule wrapped with yoga and pilates ... I swear it's DONE for y'all!

Virgo North Node need to carefully pick wisely who are worth their help. Because sometimes, people go through shit as their own consequences and yet feels like victimized????

I just want you to know that your Scorpio North Node friends is actually wishing changes in their life. They want change. They know that things supposed to change in order to grow. But what all they get is sometimes annihilation, destruction and even violence and that's not a pleasurable change for them.

Stop telling Scorpio North Node to let it go. They don't need them. Start to ask Scorpio North Node what can they do from the ashes. Transformation is the real fear of this placement. They had no idea if it will work or not and most time, they will feel the sorrow of having no idea is their adaptation to the new things is going to be painful or not.

This is the most underated documentary for Leo North Node. But i think Leo North Node is never about fame and get famous. It's more about strength and in general. Most people forget that Leo is a sign that represent fortitude and only highlighting the part of being "famous" and "taking the center stage" which is not true.

Leo North Node people learn to use all of their mental, physicological and soul power to cope with whatever life has thrown to them. They need to understand they have fight for their right instead giving it away to people (and this is when the fame and luxury come from, from finding what's already yours)

Pisces North Node and the art of letting go. It's not like they are holding into things that makes them uncomfortable. But it's learning that sometimes you can't fix what was broken from the first time. That life is imperfect, flawless and sometimes vague in it's own way and what they need to do is; just keep swimming.

Also, this north node need more sleep than other people. Sleep is the way they will gain productivity and mental clarity. Enough sleep provides them power to do the right things everyday.

Sagittarius North Node and the faith. It's not like they need to stick into one religion. But it's more like they need to hold the higher moral code and standard over a shortcut. Of course, you will outsmart anything. But this life calls your integrity and your morality as human being. Life ask your wisdom. So always be wise.

Sagittarius North Node is also a placeement that speak the law of assumtion and the law of attraction. So, positive mindset is needed because things will manifest easily with positive mind.

Aries North Node, y'all so angry. But what if i told you that life demands your action and not your insight? This is the north node that ask you to be the first who doing the impossible, the first who doing the things that nobody did it in the first place. You know what you need to do, so it takes courage to turn the table.

Aries North Node also have a knack to relieve after ... yes, cursing. Cuss some bomb and shit till it feels easy and lightweight again.

Taurus North Node. This is the most bitter north node that i've encountered because this north node is about self dignity and respect. They need to uproot themselves from what people has taught them to act and start building the strong boundaries and foundation for their own life.

No, Taurus North Node. This is not your time to be the biggest enemy of yourself. Because how people treat you, depends on how you TREAT YOURSELF.

Gemini North Node and equality. They are the type who need to understand that their difference and diversity doesn't mean that someone is in higher or lower class. So treat people equal and treat yourself as equal too. Treat the waitress over the restaurant the same respect like you treat the politician on their office.

Also Gemini North Node. STOP FIGHTING WITH YOUR NEIGBOURS AND BROTHERS/SISTERS. They will unlock you some good things in the future. So stay your COOL.

Capricorn North Node's pressure. In this lifetime, life wants you to be the authority figure of your own, so it's understable that you'll disappointing some people who love you and taken care of you. In turns, you'll see that sometimes loves and cares is form of emotional manipulation to prevent you from the growth you need. Don't get easily swayed by the fake love.

With the most respect. Get your shit together, Capricorn North Node. People tend to manipulate you because they can take adventage from you and rob something from you. Don't let them mess your kindness as a weakness.

Aquarius North Node need to take off some privilege they have in this lifetime and be the one who's responsible for greater duty. Responsibility and duty is unavoidable in this lifetime so make sure you handle them with care and love for humanity (people around you). You can't expect life is pleasure because only through the struggle, you'll understand how pleasure is priceless.

I will give some warning for you, Aquarius North Node. If you still feeding your ego, you'll become the public enemy. I've seen this placement falls down and rise up because their community is wishing them to. Make sure that people only wishing you the best so you could manifest easily.

Libra North Node need for the partnership in this lifetime has nothing to do with being in relationship. But being in the middle of the change. Most people in this north node will make the most life changing decision and partnership helps them to keep relate into the change they have made. Relationship happens when you are in the commitment in the change with someone who willing to helps you through thin and thick. So choosing the right partner means choosing the right person to change and evolve together.

No, Cancer North Node. Being in control and having your guard up doesn't mean success. Success to you is a sense of security to feel whatever you want to feel and everytime you want to feel. Your job, your salary and your social status doesn't define you. It's your warmth, present and personality that roots you deep for who you are that matters the most.

RELEASE YOUR JOB IF YOU ARE UNHAPPY AND UNDERPAID, CANCER NORTH NODE. DROP IT until they found that YOU ARE WORTH THEIR RESPECT.

[ariscats]

one of my biggest hcs is that jameson graduates in physicology and starts working w kids who have dysfunctional families and teens who have self destructive habits

[hawaiiparty2]

What if Hawaii part II was a physicological horror game

Includes oh no!!! Meanie words🙀🙀

[storyteller-aprendiz]

I dont think shipping is right in the context of IWTV, as like wanting to characters to be together/end up together (someone pls explain what is shipping to me, I still dont understand).

For me is more about which of these toxic/abusive relationships you find more interesting and want to explore, examine, and talk about. And that for me is Louis and Armand.

Because unlike Louis relationship with Lestat, I think Louis has more agency (?) In this relationship. Like he knowingly (?) chose to be with Armand as an act of punishment

And like idk but it is really interesting to see someone know that this person is bad for them, that they had a hand at doing the worst that can be done to you, and you still having love for them and choosing to be with them even as they harm you in horrible, unimaginable ways. Like we could say that is just Louis trauma that keep him tied to Armand, but seeing how easy he left the guy in the finally (unlike you know, having to resort to murder) makes me think that some part of Louis was consciouslly saying with Armand.

Which like so fucked up, but also so interesting to examine.

Which also brings me to the difference in reception between 1x5 and 2x5. I don't really read posts talking about Lestat, but in some ways I think people talk more about 2x5 because the psychological nature of the fight, the way it's like language/emotions based rather than physical which in my opinion is more interesting to talk about.

And again with Louis agency (?), like he was not in you know, Armands playing field, because of the drugs and suicidal tendencies but he still manage to hurt Armand in ways he couldnt (and didn't) if the fight was physical.

Which brings me to another aspect of their relationship I found interesting. Like I don't fear for Louis' physical safety when he is with Armand unlike when he is with Lestat- though considering he is suicidal I maybe should. But that's the point also, like how physicological/emotional abuse is as powerful but very different from physical abuse and we don't see that talk about.

Plus the fact that it comes from a place of *care* of all places.

So yeah, I am sooo happy Louis dumped Armand out of his ass, and that he is happy (?) In the finale of the series and that's it there's nothing else.

But I still enjoy looking at their relationship and how Armand (and Louis) fucked it all up. Because like if only the guy, Arun, had trusted Louis, had learn how to be in a relationship outside of like coven/vampirism, if only he could have relax instead of plot. Alas.

Still the healthiest relationship Armand has ever had. Anyways, I wish we could have seen more of Jonah, see how Louis interacts in a normal (?) Relationship, which tbh I think that like Armand, he cant.

[cybertori]

Mystery —> Giyuu T.

Hashira! [name] and Giyuu Tomioka

~ In which you are requested something, while adressing the silliest rumor among the hashiras yet.

!WARNING! talks of physicological “missions” , decision making and adressing rumors

"Is this accurate, [name] ?"

Ubuyashiki sat right to the fore of you, with a tepid beam— he was pleased nonetheless with the rare, satisfactory news.

"You've gotten Tomioka to open up... Even at the brink of his nonchalant nature?" The man seemed interested— Tomioka was not one to waver off, especially when it came to his feelings. However Ubuyashiki was one to worry about all the hashiras, his children.

Your eyes remained glued to the man at all times, you could hear the counts of your heart palpitating harshly, trying to remain in composure— "It would be quite reckless of me to be talking about such rumors, especially with quite a few hashiras treating this as such.." you cut yourself off with a visible look of apall "Anyway, Master, Please do understand that I didn't partake —"

Ubuyashiki chuckled amidst of your worrisome nature, it was clear that he was only teasing. However the manner in which you got visibly flustered directing the odd rumors, amused him quite a bit.

“I'm only teasing, [name]." He wondrously admitted, placing his hand on his mouth with a devious smirk, however you couldn't help but let out a small breath as your heartbeat slowed to it's original pace and your eyes hauled down— your face returned to it's standard temperature.

"My apologies, Master."  You vowed to the floor— as a sign of the embarassment you demonstrated to jump into such conclusions, lightly tapping your head into the wooden ground— shaved and delicately crafted.

"Please— there's no need to be so formal, although I did call you here and enjoyed teasing you quite a bit, I must also inform you about something important." He spoke with a soft voice accompanied with the slight gestures he made, some of which you noticed and annotated down in the back of your mind.

You listened attentively and your eyes widened a little, this was sudden— even for you, It wasn't false that you enjoyed going on missions with the majority of the time included some phsycological turns of events— and rather you tapped into them because robustness wasn't your forte.. nevertheless this was quite different, and it would only be harder if that other subject would additionally comply.

"Will you be willing to complete this requirement? I feel as if it's only necessary for you to take part of this.. however if you would like to turn this down, I'd  understand." Mr. Ubuyashiki stated, placing his knee on the floor and grabbing his staff— You approached him quickly, not wanting to fail to help him  up.

"Master, if it's not too much to ask.. would you please give me some time to think about it? I've only done that once and i'm not sure if.." You mumbled as your gaze lingered, flickering with some thoughts behind them, you desperately didn't want to disturb Ubuyashiki by asking him to give you more time to think about the sudden request— especially because you valued and respected him to the core of your heart, but oddly enough you had a gut feeling if you'd answer right away you would regret your outright decision.

"Very well." Ubuyashiki hummed; grazing his hand softly on your shoulder "I'll give you as much time as you need, however please think about this carefully— I would hate for you to regret your answer so quickly." His touch felt like a soft feather of one of the crows across your skin, perhaps the summer eve that diligently slithered into your skin— or more so a comfortably, significant graze many of the hashiras would understand.

"Thank you, Master." You beamed with a warming smile, turning into crimson from the sudden attention, everyone knew that if Ubuyashiki gave you any type of attention, you were deemed as his favorite. If anyone saw this they'd immediately turn jealous.

As fast as you first entered the room, you were dismissed quite as quickly, by choice you were the one that rushed out of the room trying to remain in equanimity— shutting the door behind you and leaning into it as you softly sighed.

"The decision.." You mumbled— laying your hand on your chin before slightly letting some of your thoughts flow throughout your mind— What would you choose? would you do it? or perhaps would the better outcome be not taking action on it? and on further statement.. what about the challenges that would come.. making you much more of a better hashira.. and perhaps heightening your core..

"..are you alright?" You heard a serene yet very cold voice before you— you stiffened instantly, recognizing the voice this soft chord pertained to your eyes met his... Tomioka's .

“I'm alright, just a little dazed is all." Your gaze drifted rapidly— careful to not stare too much else you'd find yourself the same way as having a conversation with Ubuyashiki back in the room.. however this had a different touch to it— one you couldn't quite place your finger on.

You shifted slightly before the man— his unimpressed look which you'd been accostumed to made you smile a little— weirdly enough it was familiar to you in a way, however he nodded and continued making his way towards the place he'd been heading to.

You shook your thoughts away— in nervousness and made your way to the opposite side of the hall, hoping to have your room to yourself and yelling-talking session alone.

Mysteriously, a blushing mess. This feeling blossoming in furthermore many ways.

(MAYBEEE theres gonna be a pt 2 who knows ! )

[riddles-fiddles]

Hello!

Could you write headcanons for Riddle as a caregiver for someone who age regresses to a very young age, please?

(If you're familiar with it of course ♡)

I hope this can bring a smile to your face today! Also very important disclaimer: age regression IS NOT the same as dd/lg fetish!

Synopsis: Riddle takes a full time-day to take care of you while in little space Characters: Riddle Rosehearts Tags: SFW, fluff, comfort Notes: gender neutral reader, age regression

•·.·''·.·•ˏˋ°••·.·''·.·•ˏˋ°••·.·''·.·•ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

Riddle is very dedicated and patient when undergoing the role of your caregiver. He was interested in learning more about age regression ever since you mentioned about it - the physicological reasoning behind it deeply resonated with him

Sometimes the rough discipline he received while growing up seeps through, with Riddle picking on your manners at the table and telling you to sit right

But it's not hard to hear his mother under the words that falls from his mouth, so he'll apologize and try to be more conscious about what he says. He doesn't want to become a ghost of that woman, and knows it's not fair to subject you to his strict bearing

There's a time and a place for everything. Riddle insists on designating specific times to feed you - 3 to 3 hours, no minute before and much less after - and even for your play time

He's the kind of caregiver to try and get you to play with educational games because that's what he's used to, so he grows a bit frustrated when you turn to your toys

Riddle learns to allow his immaculate, collected nature to slip off when you're in little space. It's the only time you'll see him making funny voices and sitting on the floor to play with you. He'll never admit it, but it feels freeing for him too

He buys you a new plushie everytime you behave nicely, since he dislikes the idea of rewarding you with candy - it'll spoil your teeth and he's afraid it could culminate in a sugar addiction. Sure, you can have Trey's special strawberry tarts though; it's an excuse for him to indulge in as well

His favourite activity is to lay against the couch with you lying down on his lap while he reads something for you. It's cute how you'll excitedly ask for what's to come while your eyes gleam with curiosity, all the while he can stroke your hair

Surprisingly good at singing. He's always a bit reluctant when you ask him to sing you something to sleep, but his melodic, sweet voice is able to lull you into slumber in less than a minute

[blogencenamais]

O debut de Zöe Kravitz na direção, além de escrever o roteiro !

Quando o bilionário de tecnologia Slater King conhece a garçonete Frida em sua gala de arrecadação de fundos, faíscas voam. Ele a convida para se juntar a ele e seus amigos nas férias dos sonhos em sua ilha particular. É o paraíso. Noites selvagens se misturam com dias ensolarados e todos estão se divertindo. Ninguém quer que esta viagem acabe, mas à medida que coisas estranhas começam a acontecer, Frida começa a questionar a sua realidade. Há algo errado com este lugar. Ela terá que descobrir a verdade se quiser sair viva desta festa.

[the-framed-maelstrom]

The venerable Hellenic concept of 'sympatheia' elucidates the profound tenets of quantum entanglement, whereby each discrete component, notwithstanding its spatial remoteness, is non-locally conjoined with its brethren, mirroring the holistic cosmos as conjectured by the ancient philosophers. He avers that this conceptual consonance not merely serves as a bridge linking the venerable principles of classical physicology with the modern axioms of quantum mechanics but also rejuvenates a more profound metaphysical comprehension, envisaging a cosmos wherein the web of interconnectivity transcends the mundane divisions of physical separation and the limitations imposed by empirical observance.

Michel Bitbol: Schrodinger's philosophy of quantum mechanics (Dionysius the Areopagate Narration)

[ao3wasntenough]

Crack one hot. While inside Sam body, bumblebee traying adapt but well it's hard and terrifying luckly he got Sam to teach him being human.

*Sam Accidentally got scratch by paper*

Bumblebee: Sam this paper is not sharp yet it cut your skin.

Sam : well even paper is not sharp but well human skin are delicate

Bumblebee: I don't like it

Sam : well pall, you in my body so you must get used to because not just human skin that 'delicate'. I am talking about hunger, thirst, sick, tiredness...and even our physicologi are 'delicate'

*Sam can feel bumblebee start to feel more scare each time Sam talking about what will bumblebee feel when he inside human body. Okey Sam feel kind guilty because well bumblebee is alien and metal he definitely feel different but Sam can't lie too because that what bumblebee feel when he inside Sam body*

Sam : look just... It's not scare as look, trying enjoying it

Bumblebee: I'll try

*then Judy entering house*

Judy : Sam? Who you talking too?

Sam : nothing, I am teenager , we always talking to our self

Judy : I heard you said 'just enjoying' , enjoying what? You not doing 'dirty' in living room are you?

Sam : mom, how you could say that!

*Sam can feel bumblebee amused with situation with Sam mom*

Bumblebee: what's that?

Sam : what? You meant food?

Bumblebee: yeah, it's quite pleasant sensation... I don't know human can feel this. It's feel different with what I feel... Very different

* skip after Sam doing 'disposal' in bathroom*

Bumblebee : .... That's... Relief and.... Disgusting

Sam :yeah.

*skip in morning*

Bumblebee: Sam.. What's that? Poking under blanket and I feel weird down there

*Sam look what bumblebee meant. Sam immediately to bathroom and having really cold shower*

Bumblebee: what's that feeling down there... It's weird... And-

Sam : no no no, we are not gonna into area to early... Later.

*and that only one day, and bumblebee inside Sam body for 5 days so... Poor Sam and poor bee*

(I planning make Optimus part but more angst because well situation that tenses for both of them. Also since when bumblebee inside Sam body in considering peaceful situation, there's no angst at least not from Sam )

weidly would sharing brain space with a sentient being who never really had sleep, be so baffled by dreams and nightmares but! what if they impacted erectile function?

I would be glad hosting an alien inside you didn't as well as mortified impact that

[everbluekisses]

confession time i really hate to talk about my special interests to anyone for some reason just the thought about a [inserts you know who] carrd make me wantt to throw up and its not even jealousy is feels more like???? dont feel special anymore if someone knows abt it? i'm trying to be more open abt this nowdaysbut things that i deeply obsessed is a total no-no still

btw i'm not talking abt yakumond even tho they're my life my super hiper ultra mega special interests are mostly not shipp content just silly individuals when we're talking abt ships i will dedicate my life to spread thw word bcs shipping is the social part of my life (dont look at me)

in the end its juat funny that the more a like something the less i want to talk about it dont know if theres a physicological xplaning to this probably related to feel safe in my own little world bla bla bla my personal opinion::: the best parts of life are even better if you have them only for yourself just the thought abt talking about [redacted] all day all pfp header pinned I ALREADY TRIED OK i feel so empty doing this dont know how to change ::cryface::

ik sounds funny to say this when i'm taking a about [redacted] here almost everyday I KNOW I DONT MAKE SENSE i'm just trying the waters let me be