#it's like 1am here

[itsallaboutbl]

Phaya said he had a surprise for Tharn... And well... We all know it wasn't the family dinner, right? 😏

[mrs-gauche]

Since BioWare pretty much confirmed that they won't be at the Game Awards this year, I guess I'm now watching this show for one thing and one thing only

[kijeu]

who's the cute boy in the white jacket and the thick accent?

[xxplastic-cubexx]

you open my Super Important Documents and its just pictures of charles xavier

[artisticxlly]

Fuck it, Haikyu!! characters and their unusual skills hcs

Ushijima is very good with distinguishing tastes. Like he can tell you if a drink is or isn't diet (combine this with diabetic tendou?? for the ultimately sweet (pun intended) moment of him telling the waitress that his boyfriends drink isn't diet and that he'd like another, please) also this makes him a very good candidate for developing chocolate recipes

Kuroo and Kenma learned some simple sign language to communicate without words (comes in handy when Kenma gets overwhelmed at a party, for example). Sometimes, they use it early in the mornings because neither of them are early birds and get grumpy without caffeine.

Kageyama has a very sensitive sense of smell. He will outright tell Hinata if he changed his shampoo because he can smell it (and because most of the time doesn't like it).

The Miya twins are actually really decent singers if you get some alcohol into them. They are also really good at whistling (it annoys the hell out of their partners sometimes).

Sakusa can mimic people really well (he's perceptive and picks up on their habits and speech patterns really quickly) and his impression of Atsumu has made for quite a few scenarios where their team cannot stop laughing because of how good it is.

Kita can sleep practically anywhere if he's exhausted, he just chooses not to for his own dignity (until he moves in with Aran anyways, who finds him asleep spread out on the floor multiple times).

Suna has a very dextrous tongue, i.e., he can tie a cherry stem in his mouth (do with that information what you want, honestly)

Hirugami can mimic certain animal sounds really well and sometimes does so almost out of reflex (maybe a verbal stim?) when he treats animals at his job (i.e. he'll "mreow" right back at a cat).

Akaashi can wiggle his ears and nose and does it sometimes when he's bored.

Bokuto can walk on his hands when he does a handstand (I mean, overall, I think that he could be very good at gymnastics)

[infinite-beginnings]

The line when Charles said, "Edwin's told me loads of stories about Hell," and him seeming to know he'd find a map in Edwin's book always hits me hard.

Now I acknowledge Charles might’ve been posturing to reassure the Night Nurse he could navigate Hell, but let's assume this fact was real.

Because that means that Edwin felt comfortable enough to talk about all of his trauma to Charles. He mentions Hell a lot in passing in front of the girls, but he never goes into specifics. However, it seems as if he actively told Charles quite a few details about Hell. I also noticed that Charles is very calm when he's going to find Edwin. Yes, he's studying the book a lot, but he is also navigating the space with a certain amount of confidence. I'm sure it's partially due to Charles' tendency to do things without thinking and project confidence. But also, it seems as if he might have at least a very basic level of knowledge or familiarity with the levels of Hell based on the stories Edwin told.

I think this is probably another reason why Edwin struggled to believe the fact that Charles had faced abuse in his past and never shared it with Edwin. Because Edwin was always up front and honest with Charles. He told him the very first time they'd met that he had just escaped Hell. I'm sure Edwin did not want to relive his memories of Hell, and maybe it took him decades to feel like he could share. But I bet when he started talking about it with Charles, he felt relief. Because sharing your trauma with someone who accepts you and loves you no matter what is always a relief after holding it in and pushing it down.

So I just imagine Edwin feeling that relief after sharing his stories from Hell and feeling closer and more bonded with Charles because of it...and then he finds out that Charles has this huge amount of trauma from his past that he has been keeping inside. It probably breaks Edwin's heart that he hadn't been able to offer Charles the same relief he'd felt.

And yes, Crystal mentioned that Charles was probably denying the trauma even to himself. We all know that Edwin knew something was off with Charles and that he was probably frustrated in himself because he hadn't been able to figure it out, but Crystal apparently had.

But I also think there might be another level to it. The boys have been solving cases for 30 years. I find it hard to believe that they never had another case involving abuse or at least someone with a controlling personality that would've reminded Charles of his father. Maybe Edwin thinks back to a couple of those cases and how Charles was acting strange and withdrawn during them and realized he'd missed a huge clue about how his friend was feeling.

All those years of sharing his stories from Hell and being comforted by Charles and Edwin hadn't been able to do the same. Edwin is definitely hurt that Charles didn't feel like he could confide in him and heartbroken to think about how much pain his friend was going through alone.

[reverienco]

what the fuck am i doing. scheduling this at 1am.

[nanihirunkits]

WE ARE | EP11

[millidew]

some of yall are scared to be corny, but he was born on the cob

[korralone]

Caitlyn and Vi are truly one of my favorite sapphic romance stories I’ve ever had to the privilege to watch on screen. I’m constantly 🤪 when I think about the amount of story time that was dedicated to them, and the type of story that was told, as that’s not usually what we get with gay romances.

I keep seeing a lot of people dissatisfied/angry/etc with how their story went and it kinda bums me out so I just wanted to use this post to get my thoughts and feelings out (obviously everyone has their own valid opinions and won’t agree with me)

Cait and Vi not being uwu “healthy” 24/7 and their inherent messiness is WHY I find them so compelling. From the moment they met there were already huge factors against them, both indirectly of their control (class struggle, power imbalance) and directly (personality clashes, communication styles). But they somehow grew to love each other anyway.

Caitlyn not saying “I’m sorry” out loud at any point to Vi by the end of the show, I honestly loved it. Because Caitlyn instead apologized with her actions, and Caitlyn’s actions always seem to speak louder than her words. Her letting go of the vengeance that consumed her for so long for Vi’s sake (which ultimately led to her allowing Vi to break Jinx out) was more meaningful to me than if they had some long blow out argument (and Vi recognizing this immediately and jumping Caitlyn’s bones then and there was just *chefs kiss* to me)

They’ll never be perfect. They’ll always have to work at their relationship. It won’t be pretty, sometimes even unfair. They’ll fight and clash and not always agree, but there’s always this persistent feeling of LOVE anyway, and they’ve decided they’ll put in the work to make their relationship last despite it all. And I think it’s beautiful.

[vivitalks]

zac pranking the chefs by saying "time for a secret rule, everyone go to a different station" vs zac immediately going "just kidding i'm just kidding" .5 seconds after because he respects them too much to scare them like that.......he gets it

[isabelleadjani]

FIRST KANAPHAN as Kant THE HEART KILLERS (2024) dir. Jojo Tichakorn Phukhaotong

[starstruckodysseys]

can you imagine being thirteen and having the world at your fingertips. everyone loves you - why shouldn’t they? you’re the epitome of a good girl, the ideal, the popular cheerleader type who gets The Guy. you giggle and you flirt with the football players and you have sleepovers with your friends (who don’t really feel like your friends but you’re all popular so you have to like each other, right?). you do your makeup and you bat your eyelashes and everything is perfect.

and then you start growing horns. you start looking like the devil - and you might as well be, the way everyone turns on you, starts looking at you as if you’re a freak, a monster. and, well, if everyone’s going to treat you as such, you might as well play the part, right?

so you rebel against your parents (if they’re not lying about that, too). you go out and you buy a bass guitar and you pluck at the strings until your fingers bleed. it’s better than listening to the arguments downstairs. you transform into people you’re not to pretend you could really be someone instead of the shell you are now. you flirt with guys twice your age to pretend you still have it in you, even if it feels hollow. you grin and you bear it but it’s hollow, in the end.

if you can’t be perfection anymore, why bother being anything?

(and then you meet the most wonderful people in your life. and they accept you as you are and don’t ask you to change. but you find yourself changing anyway, because they make you feel like you can be something. like maybe it’s worth it again. and you finally get The Girl. and maybe life isn’t perfection anymore, but maybe perfection is overrated, anyway.)

[puppppppppy]

[harryzroze]

HES HERE HES HERE AAAA

[griddlebait]

since i couldn’t post the new chapter to celebrate the one year anniversary of sckl and a few of you said you wanted to read it, i'm sharing the first scene of chapter 25 below the cut.

(keep in mind that this is before beta-reading and final edits so a few things might change when the chapter is posted!)

Just past one in the morning, Gideon quietly let herself into her apartment. She carefully placed her shoes on the rack and tiptoed through the living room, assuming that all of her roommates were either asleep or trying to get there, but she soon noticed a dim, fuzzy glow emitting from the kitchen. Not all of her roommates, then.

Harrow was sitting on the counter with the refrigerator left open in front of her so she didn’t have to turn on an overhead light. Gideon wasn’t surprised; she caught her like this every now and then, most times eating individual ingredients or cold pasta straight from the tupperware container or chugging all the water she’d forgotten to drink that day. Tonight she lacked that manic, starved alleycat quality to her movements—she was looser, relaxed, nonchalantly glancing over her shoulder and languidly straightening her posture at the confirmation of Gideon’s presence—but Gideon still spotted a cup of water clutched in her hand when she rounded the bar. 

“Where have you been?” Harrow asked the moment Gideon reached the line between carpet and tile.

“Am I in trouble?” Gideon whispered back sarcastically.

Harrow’s fingers idly tapped against the plastic cup in muted, arrhythmic thumps. Her voice was curiously hoarse as she said, “That depends on where you’ve been.”

Gideon didn’t know what that was supposed to mean, but it warmed her face and prickled her skin. “I was downstairs with Nona,” she elaborated automatically. “She asked me to help her pick out her nail polish colors. And we watched the Ghostbusters movies. And then fell asleep by accident.”

Harrow stared at Gideon. She blinked. She dropped her eyes. Then she said, “okay,” and there was slight resignation in the drooping of her shoulders, an audible settling in the quietness of her voice. She looked down into her cup as if the water inside was suddenly supremely interesting. 

“So … am I in trouble?”

Harrow didn’t look up. “I suppose not.”

The air between them thinned out like a window had been opened and Gideon realized, feeling unlike herself, that she’d gone in the wrong direction. She was supposed to play along and make up something ridiculous yet interesting, like that she’d actually been out at a leather bar with Ianthe getting into fights for fun. She should have given Harrow something to at least roll her eyes at, but she didn’t, and the moment passed, and it was already too late. 

That kept happening these days. Gideon tried not to kick herself too hard about it this time. She wasn’t convincingly dressed for a leather bar anyway. 

Harrow turned to set her cup down on the counter, allowing Gideon a better view of her face. She looked almost as if she’d just rolled out of bed: her cheeks held a curious flush in the yellow light and the ends of her hair were sticking to her forehead and temples, the rest of her grown out buzz cut tousled and poking up in random places. Her expression was blank and tired and gave absolutely no hints at what she was thinking about, so Gideon attempted to read her body language, lowering her eyes and—and—

And Harrow’s arms were extending upwards and curling behind her head in a lazy stretch, and that movement sent her shirt riding up on her stomach to reveal more than a couple inches of bare skin. Gideon privately remarked, her mind growing a bit foggy and distant, that she had never actually seen Harrow’s stomach before.

Which wasn’t a big deal. Stomachs were super common. So were belly buttons. There was no reason to die of shock at the non-revelation that Harrow had both a stomach and a belly button. It was just that every inch of her skin that Gideon had seen before now had been empty and blank—naturally speaking, anyway; Gideon had given her wrist a permanent blemish that summer—and, although it wasn’t as if she’d thought about it specifically, Gideon kind of assumed that the rest of Harrow’s skin would be equally as plain. So even if everyone had a belly button and it was neither impressive nor profound that Harrow also had one, Gideon found herself momentarily transfixed by the small dark brown speck just to the left of it. A freckle, or a mole, or a birthmark, Gideon couldn’t tell with the distance and lighting.

It seemed impossible that you could know someone for their entire life and still keep finding things to learn about them. Gideon thought it was wildly unfair that it had taken nearly twenty-one years for her to discover this very simple fact about Harrow, and then she wondered if something could even be considered a discovery if it had already been discovered by someone else. She found this to also be wildly unfair.

She blinked so hard rainbow flurries danced behind her eyelids and she narrowly avoided physically shaking her head to clear her thoughts like an Etch-A-Sketch. Harrow was totally oblivious to the attention and finished her stretch, dropping her arms to her sides; her shirt slid back down until there was nothing but a thin sliver of skin above the waistband of her pajama pants left exposed. 

The refrigerator was safer to look at. They ran out of orange juice this morning. Cam probably added it to the grocery list already.

“So did you stay up just to get on my ass about coming home late?” Gideon asked. Her throat felt strange.

“No,” Harrow said. After a brief stretch of silence, each word lulling with hesitation like she hadn’t quite decided if she actually wanted to say what she was in the middle of saying, she tacked on: “I was with Camilla.”

That made sense. That explained—yeah. Okay. Not really information Gideon needed to know, but okay. Waves of disappointment rolled through her chest, embarrassment following soon after. She’d been mostly joking—Harrow never needed a reason to stay up—but it was unwelcomingly humbling to be told that no, Harrow hadn’t been waiting for her, and in fact had been plenty busy with somebody else. 

The fact that Gideon had been doing the same thing in a different context, and the question of how much that context mattered and why, were such fleeting, whispering thoughts in the back of Gideon’s mind that they might as well not have been there at all. 

"What, you guys don't have sleepovers?" she asked, her voice supernaturally relaxed as opposed to the unsteadiness she felt internally. 

“No,” Harrow said, and Gideon already knew that. 

"Guess I’m special then,” she pressed because she couldn’t help herself.

“You’re—Yes. You are unique in that.”

That, too, confirmed what Gideon already knew. She still felt better for hearing it. 

Harrow’s leg brushed against Gideon’s elbow as she slid off the counter, but she didn’t seem to notice. She stepped forward and shut the fridge, casting them into a darkness that was only salvaged by streaks of moonlight slipping through the curtains, and turned back to Gideon drenched in shades of gray. 

Gideon wasn’t sure what she expected—nothing, really, she wasn’t expecting anything. It was her body that pulled taut with unnamable anticipation when Harrow looked her in the eye. It was the briefest of glances, and Gideon still could not maintain the contact; she unsteadily cast her gaze anywhere else. Harrow stepped past her to leave without letting the moment linger.

“Goodnight, Griddle.”

Gideon exhaled, her body sinking as if she’d been released. Harrow didn’t notice. She was already halfway through the living room. That was as much of a relief as it was a disappointment. 

“Goodnight,” Gideon replied a beat too late. Refusing to let herself watch Harrow go, she settled for listening to the sound of her footsteps grow quiet and distant.