#seasons 5 & 6 were just like

[buckera]

I feel like people should really let go of the idea of realism when it comes to 911. like, I don't know where it's coming from to begin with.

within the first 3 minutes of the show we have someone using a defib on wet skin. in season 2 we have a guy inflate like a balloon because a tire pump got stuck in his ass... we have a whole ass person turning blue like a smurf from some tooth gel.

all this talk about how "if Tim stays on it's gonna be all this weird stuff" fails to consider that this is what the show has always been like. a doppelgänger storyline is actually only about 5 out of 10 on my scale, when it comes to the show where the full moon makes you cheat on your wife.

[kaythefloppa]

Enough time has passed to where I think we can openly admit how WK has gone through seasonal rot within its previous 2 seasons and how the hype of Season 7 along with the generally positive reception is a really green flag for the show's quality.

[leupagus]

BRB giving all the Lannisters a way more satisfying story arc than the one the show foisted on them

x

The wedding celebrations for Trystane's brother Quentyn and his new bride Desmera Redwyne lasted for nearly a fortnight, with dancing and feasting and even fireworks set off over the bay at the Water Gardens. Every noble in Dorne (and half the nobles of the Reach) had come; even Prince Doran had attended, and it seemed to do him good. His pain-lined face had been wreathed in smiles and he had sat at the head of the table at nearly every meal, coming out from his seclusion for the first time in ages.

Trystane noticed, too. "I don't think I have ever seen Papa so happy," he whispered, leaning toward her during the feast on the last night.

"It's because he has got rid of one troublesome son," she teased him, tapping her finger on his nose. It was true enough: tomorrow, Quentyn and Desmera would travel back to the Arbor where they would take up their duties as heirs to Paxter Redwyne.

Trystane scrunched his nose and moved closer to her on the bench, sliding his arm around her waist. "Soon he will be got rid of another," he murmured in her ear, kissing her gently on the cheek, then the neck.

"Ah, ah, this is not your wedding yet, little brother," warned Arianne as she briskly tapped them on their shoulders, pushing them firmly aside so that she could sit between them. "Room enough for the Mother, if you please."

"You're my sister, not my mother," Trystane grumbled. "And there isn't enough room for your backside!"

"Trystane!" Myrcella protested, but Arianne had it well in hand.

"If I were Mama, I would spank you on yours," she told him, and swatted at him anyway. Trystane yelped and hit her back, and their end of the table erupted into chaos as brothers and sisters, cousins and friends all shrieked and jabbed at each other, tickling and pinching as one can only do to those one truly loves.

Arianne and Myrcella had been thick as thieves when she had first arrived at Sunspear, still dreadfully homesick and afraid. Uncle Tyrion had promised her that the people of Dorne would treat her well; but though everyone had been kind, it was only Arianne who had truly been a friend at first. She had sneaked into Myrcella's room and hid behind drapes or under the bed to jump out at her, shown her the sights of the Water Gardens and Planky Town alike, even encouraged her to speak with Trystane, who at 15 had been terribly spotty and sulky.

Then Arianne had gone to visit her mother and her family, in far-off Norvos. It had been planned for only a few months, but the time had stretched on and on, and only Quentyn's marriage had brought her back at last. Myrcella had missed her even as she had grown closer with Trystane, and part of her dreaded their marriage that would take her away from the drowsy warmth and comfort of Arianne's company, even as it would deliver her back to her family at King's Landing.

Later that night, Myrcella crept into Arianne's chambers and hid inside the great wardrobe, keeping the door half-open as it had been already. (Arianne was shockingly untidy for a princess, and refused to allow any servant in her quarters to deal with the resulting mess. She used to drag Myrcella to her rooms once a month or so and make her sit on the bed, while Arianne picked up the clothes strewn about the floor or flung over the backs of chairs and complained about her own bad habits. Already, Myrcella thought, Arianne could do with a good cleaning.) A short while later the door to the chamber opened and Myrcella readied herself to jump out, just as Arianne had done to her so often.

But Arianne was not alone.

"—Yronwoods aren't pleased by the match," someone was saying. "Lord Anders thought Quentyn would marry Gwyneth, after being fostered with them for so long."

It was Ellaria Sand. She hadn't been seen overmuch at Sunspear since returning from King's Landing two months ago, Lord Oberyn's body in tow. Since then she'd avoided the court, instead spending time with Oberyn's daughters. The few times Myrcella had seen her, Ellaria had been as warm and friendly as before, but with a knife-edge to her smile that Myrcella recognized all too well from the courtiers in the Red Keep. She'd had taken care not to be alone with Ellaria, nor with the Sand Snakes, since then.

"Then Lord Anders is a fool," said Arianne in her sing-song voice, "and should be regarded as such. Gwyneth is a lovely girl, but she is far too little for a Prince of Dorne. The Arbor is a more valuable holding and the Redwynes far more valuable allies."

"And once Trystane is married to his blonde bastard girl, you will have both your brothers safely out of Dorne," said Ellaria. There was the sound of clothing being moved about, and Ellaria sitting down. "Really, dear, you ought to have someone clean in here. There could be mice, for all you know."

Arianne laughed, as though Ellaria had only insulted her housekeeping. Myrcella's hands clenched into fists. Was this what Arianne truly thought of her? And in Dorne, of all places! Where Ellaria herself, and all her lover's daughters, carried the last name of Sand! Ellaria had made much of the Dornish saying that bastard children were born of love and passion, and thus as trueborn as any child conceived by wedded parents. But clearly she held Myrcella in as much contempt as any of the rest of them would back home, if they knew the truth.

They never knew King Robert, the man who'd never once looked at her or her brothers but with resentment and bitterness. None of her mother's children had been loved, not by that oafish lumbering stag who saw them all as shackles that tied him to the Lannisters he hated so much. What shame was there in knowing her true parents, at least, loved each other? And loved their children, even if only one could dare show it? Myrcella wanted to burst out of the wardrobe and declare that she would gladly call herself Myrcella Waters — Myrcella Lannister — and dare anyone to judge her for it. 

But she huddled further into herself and listened, to hear what else Arianne might say.

"I've stayed away too long," is what she said, "if you're this comfortable calling poor Myrcella such names. She's done nothing to you—"

The scrape of a chair signaled that Ellaria had risen once again. "Her family murdered your uncle, who you seemed once to love—"

"—and yet I have been informed of a certain present you sent to Queen Cersei just a few days ago," Arianne overrode her. "A snake, with Myrcella's pendant in its mouth. Hardly subtle, my dear."

Ellaria did not answer, and Myrcella put her hand to her mouth to keep her own silence. Her pendant had gone missing during the wedding celebrations, she had thought a victim of one of the more energetic dances on that first night. But Ellaria had got hold of it somehow? And sent it to Mother as a...threat, it seemed. Or a warning.

"What do you want, Ellaria?" asked Arianne with more gentleness than Myrcella felt capable of. "The Lannisters have already suffered, even if not by our hand: their patriarch dead, their firstborn dead, their brother Tyrion probably dead and certainly dead to them. Even Casterly Rock itself is in dire straits, from what I've heard. You've spoken to my father a great deal of vengeance — but where will it end? Will it be satisfied with Myrcella's death? Or do you need every child of theirs to die, before killing Cersei and Jaime?"

"I—" Ellaria's voice was thick, and there was a long moment of quiet before she spoke again. "I do not know," she said at last, as if confessing.

"Well, I do know," said Arianne briskly, "and I will tell you, if you will listen."

"...I will," said Ellaria slowly. Myrcella hardly dared breathe.

"Good. I did not linger in Norvos for nothing, much as I love Mama. Do you remember Illyrio Mopatis, the magister from Pentos? We met him years ago, when I was a girl and you and Oberyn took me with you to Essos. You were pregnant with Dorea, I think, and Obella and Tyene followed you everywhere with pillows for your chairs. Illyrio then got you a litter and had you carried everywhere."

"Gods, yes," Ellaria said, chuckling. "And he had one to match!"

"Uncle Oberyn kept crowding out the litterbearer in the front so that he could carry you," Arianne said. "At any rate, I saw him — Illyrio. He came for a visit to Mama's estate, and we spoke at great length about certain plans he has been making."

Ellaria's laugh now was sour. "Ah yes, he and the Spider have been making those plans for nearly twenty years, haven't they? Put the Targaryen boy back on the throne with the assurance that this one is sane." She snorted. "They thought Rhaegar was sane, too."

"If by 'this one,' you refer to Viserys Targaryen, his sanity is a moot point," said Arianne. "He's dead. Has been for several years, apparently. But his sister Daenerys has survived. She's been making quite a nuisance of herself in Slaver's Bay. Along with her three dragons, Illyrio tells me."

"Dragons?" Ellaria scoffed. "Illyrio's always said a great number of things. That never made any of them true."

"Which is why I want you to go and find out what is true. Meet with this Daenerys Stormborn yourself. Take her measure. I could only discover so much in Norvos, with Mama's eye always on me. She doesn't approve of Papa's conciliation to the Red Keep, but stories of Targaryen princesses and their dragons aren't to her liking, either."

"Are they to your liking?" Whatever response Arianne made, it seemed to satisfy Ellaria. "Very well. I have two conditions."

"Only two?"

"First, I shall first go to Pentos first and speak directly with Illyrio. He never could lie to me, and if he is so sure Daenerys Targaryen is the true ruler of Westeros then he'll be willing to back that up with coin and supplies. Which we'll need, in abundance."

Arianne sighed. "Very well. Though if you venture so close to Norvos, Mama will insist you visit her."

Ellaria made a prevaricating sound. "Your mother always liked me best."

"She did. And does. What is your second condition?"

"Our daughters come with me. All of them."

"No," Arianne said flatly. "Aside from the fact that it will look strange to have all the Sand Snakes gone, Lorenza is barely seven years old. You would take her across the Narrow Sea to a slave city?"

"Better than leave her here, where Doran can fill her head with his witterings about peace and forgiveness," Ellaria snapped. "If she dies — if any of us die — at least we will not live like your father."

"Take Nymeria and Tyene," Arianne countered. "Obara, if you must. The rest of the Snakes are better off here. What would Sarella do in Meereen, or Astapor, or Yunkai? Those cities do not have a reputation for academic pursuits."

"She can bring her books with her. All of us go, or none. I want nothing of Oberyn left behind for someone else to take from me."

Arianne sighed. "I'll consider it. But I want you to consider, too. If this Daenerys Stormborn is what she is said to be, she will retake the Iron Throne 'with fire and blood.' Take care that it is not your blood, my dear."

They spoke for a bit longer, until the bells chimed the hour and Ellaria departed. How long until Arianne went to bed? Myrcella might stay here the whole night and then what would she do? Who could she tell? Who did she want to tell?

"You are thinking loudly enough to wake the entire palace, little lioness," said Arianne, and opened the wardrobe door all the way. Myrcella shrank back but it was no use; Arianne was looking down at her, shaking her head. "Let's talk, so that you might be a little quieter."

"Are you going to kill my brother?" she asked, not moving.

"No," Arianne said, with a certainty that Myrcella could not help but believe. "Nor will I let anyone else. We do not hurt children in Dorne." She held out her hand, and Myrcella took it.

They sat down on the bench near the window, the one that overlooked the whole of the palace and beyond that, the city of Sunspear itself. The stars here were clear and bright, even with the torches and lights from below burning merrily at this late hour.

"Tommen's in King's Landing, not Dorne," was the first thing Myrcella could think of to say. "And he's not a child anymore." Nor am I, she thought.

Arianne rolled her eyes. "So literal. I forgot this about you. You're right — he's a man grown now, and a husband soon, and already a king. But he is not to blame for the way things are now, anymore than Viserys and Daenerys were to blame for what their father and brother did during the Rebellion."

"My father always said Uncle Stannis should have killed them when he had the chance." She could remember that argument well, as it was one Robert made whenever Uncle Stannis irritated him — which was often. You had only to take them and drown them, and you couldn't even manage that! My brother the great tactician, bested by infants! 

"I very much doubt your father said any such thing," said Arianne tartly, "Though I am sure King Robert said it often enough." She tilted her head as she regarded Myrcella. "When did you first realize? About your parents?"

Myrcella hesitated, but it seemed silly to pretend ignorance now, of all times. "I've always known, I think. When the ravens came from Dragonstone, from Uncle Stannis, saying that we were bastard-born...it wasn't a surprise." Nor had she been surprised at her not-uncle's blunt declaration, cutting himself off from all claims of blood and family. Stannis had always been a hard man to love; she suspected he found it hard to love others in turn. Perhaps it had been as great a relief to him as it had been to her, to know there was nothing that bound them to each other after all.

"I am glad you know," said Arianne, "but that is one reason I wanted you to hear Ellaria's plans, as well as my own. She wants to hurt your mother and father very badly. Her rage has made her blind. My hope is that distance, as well as time, will allow her to see clearly again. But in the meanwhile it is best for everyone if you and she are far away from each other."

"But...those things you said, about Daenerys Targaryen. You want her to come here?"

Arianne sighed and took Myrcella's hands in hers. They were small and soft, dwarfed by Myrcella's long fingers. "Daenerys Stormborn is coming here. Nothing can stop that; sooner or later, she will arrive with her dragons, and she will take the Iron Throne. If your brother and your parents are to survive it, they must have somewhere to go. Someone who will take them in."

Myrcella stared at her. She couldn't mean Dorne; for one thing, Mother would never agree to live out her days here, strolling about the Water Gardens and bathing in the Summer Sea. For another, the Martells and the Targaryens had a complicated enough relationship; even Doran, even Arianne, wouldn't risk the wrath of a new queen by hosting the old king.

"Perhaps Highgarden—" but even as Myrcella said it she could see it for the farcical suggestion it was. She'd never met the Queen of Thorns, but she knew the Tyrells had sided with the Targaryens during the Rebellion; Olenna Tyrell would be only too happy to turn the Lannisters right back over to Daenerys should they put a foot wrong, even if Tommen's marriage to Margaery went through. Which left—

"Casterly Rock," she said, and felt ashamed that it had taken her so long to understand. "You want me to hold the Westerlands." It made sense: Jaime was still in the Kingsguard and likely to remain so, and Uncle Tyrion was long gone (and would be barred from inheriting anyhow, given the accusations that he had murdered Grandfather). Uncle Kevan and Lancel might have claims to it, but Tommen's last letter had mentioned Lancel's latest obsession with some odd religious sect that had gained popularity in the Crownlands. Which left...herself, of all the remaining Lannisters.

Arianne nodded. "Casterly Rock. You were raised to be the wife of a great lord. But I think you are better suited to be a great lord yourself." She lifted her eyebrows. "More importantly, little lioness, what do you think?"

All at once she wanted it more than breath: a home of her own, a castle, a people, a kingdom. A chance to be fair and kind and noble not just amongst the simpering painted faces of court, but in a place where fairness and kindness mattered. She could take Casterly Rock and make something more of it than the just golden bank of Westeros. Myrcella could feel a ravening hunger in her that she'd never imagined, that would take all of the Westerlands to sate.

Myrcella held on tightly. She could feel her fingers turning to claws, her hair a wild mane. "Yes," she said, her voice barely above a whisper but roaring louder in her head, in her throat, in her chest. "Yes."

[swan2swan]

Every live-action Star Wars show when it comes time to stick the landing:

[to-be-a-dreamer]

Just finishing up Season 5 of my 9-1-1 watch through and I, personally, am SHOCKED that Lucy and Ravi being besties isn't more of a thing (both in the show and in fanon). Like, I know they've only had about two and a half scenes together but I can just tell they spend all their free time at the firehouse bitching about the main five. I need 10,000 hours worth of edits about them right now. I don't even want them to be romantic or anything, I just need these two pretty best friends to have more scenes together absolutely dragging the rest of the 118.

[carefulfears]

And my girl Scully figured out that Diana and Phoebe were abusive to him and that’s why she was ready to disintegrate them with whenever they breathed Mulder’s air iktr. (Also to me that’s part of the reason Mulder was oblivious and defended them, people who are in abusive relationships are not always aware of it)

YUPP you’re literally dead right, anon, in my opinion. it really bugs me when people talk shit about mulder for “trusting” both phoebe and diana, as though that’s not like…the only thing he’s been taught to do.

i’ve been thinking a lot about the difference between scully’s reactions to phoebe vs. diana. when phoebe showed up, scully had only known mulder for a few weeks. and still she knew almost instantly that something wasn’t right.

i didn’t notice until i rewatched fire the way that she never leaves him alone with her. if mulder and phoebe are working on something, you can see scully. against the wall, peeking around the door, pacing in the hallway. he tells her that she’s “off the hook,” that he’s not going to “put her through this” with “phoebe’s little mind games,” and she takes it upon herself to investigate phoebe’s case herself, until she solves it and phoebe can go the fuck home.

girlbosses catch serial murderers singlehandedly to get their best friend’s shitty ex away from them.

when phoebe was around, scully is passive aggressive as hell. constantly hanging around and making little quips and mocking her accent.

when diana shows up? five years later? she’s just aggressive.

she said nah, we aren’t doing this again 😭😭

(one of my favorite scully moments is when she snaps “and not just because i think that woman is a….well, you know what i think that woman is” and mulder is just like “no you hide your feelings sooo well” lmfao)

i really do think meeting phoebe so early in their partnership informs a lot about the way scully reacts to his exposure and relationship to other people throughout the series. she really doesn’t trust a soul around him.

i always think of this line from madness by kittenscully (a post-syzygy fic, addressing the detective white incident):

“A surge of righteous indignation at the notion makes her sit up straighter, and she bites her tongue to avoid a very unpleasant comment from slipping out. As always, she thinks of Phoebe, of his wide, trusting eyes.”

diana was scary levels of manipulative and violating. but diana loved mulder, scully knew that and used that to plead with her in the end.

phoebe didn’t care about anything but playing with fire. she got off on scaring him, crossed state lines just to fuck with his head and hurt him, just like in their relationship a decade earlier. mulder knew this, he knew from the start what she was doing and what she wanted, and he helped her anyway. he praised her anyway. he connected with her and invested in her anyway.

y’all know i’m always thinking about the script note about phoebe’s coldness “eliciting some old need in him to have her affection.”

by the time diana came back around, scully had sat on the floor of a hotel and watched phoebe smile and shake hands with bureaucrats while mulder couldn’t breathe.

scully had stood in the next room when his questions to his mother got him little more than a slap to the face.

it’s different with diana because there’s a lot more history and connection there, and because at that point there is heartbreak and jealousy on scully’s side (when phoebe was in town, she hung around in doorways. when diana reaches for mulder’s hand, she turns around and holds back tears in the car.)

it’s a difficult position for both of them. he doesn’t know how to do anything but appease and trust and be loyal, to help whoever asks. he doesn’t care if it hurts him, he’s been groomed his whole life for that, to feel like he deserves it.

it makes scully crazy. he’s her best friend. she can’t believe anyone would look at that kind of softhearted hope and want to exploit it or crush it, rather than look up to it, follow it, nurture it.

and it hurts!! it hurts to watch him fall back into these traps, and especially with diana, it hurts to feel that your input and relationship doesn’t matter enough to have influence. to not be listened to, to feel like you’re not being chosen.

she doesn’t know that he went to search diana’s apartment after she told him not to trust her. she just heard, “i know her. you don’t. scully, you’re reaching.” and watched him leave.

it’s just this perfect crossroads of each of their most vulnerable spots. scully wants to protect him, always, and she also wants to be chosen.

mulder has to stand by his allegiances, to seek ‘affection’ in cruelty, to play his role in the larger scheme. this is what CSM knew when he recruited diana into the conspiracy, and he knows because he “created” it.

you can’t judge either of them, they’re both following their natures, and furthering the narrative they were chosen for.

(until scully stands in front of diana and begs, “i just want you to think…stand there in front of me, look me in the eye”…and breaks the whole thing down.)

[katya-goncharov]

the new doctor who series is really just one big hate crime for people who don't like change

[pink-psychic]

​the fact that his final moments were spent thinking of his family, the people he loved most, while burning his literal heart out

[cherry-bomb-ships]

Oh good lird it has definitely been more than a week since I've watched any PPG I feel like a dried up crumpled dying lil fish on a shoreline.... food... water.. chimp bf 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

[buckys-metal-arm]

Ngl I'm always gonna be a little upset that Marvel didn't let What If just be a fun anthology series and decided they needed to shoehorn in an overarching plot

[dennistakesamentalhealthday]

this is like my one overarching thing with recent sunny seasons even if i enjoy specific episodes etc it just doesnt hit the same as the older seasons when it was just a bunch of poor creatives getting high and having a dream....like its too corporate its too network show its too hollywood and ai + chat gtp would only worsen that

edit please look at this video for extra context where he does say that AI is a threat to writers keeping this post up though just to use dennis reynolds and older iasip as an example of why AI cant reflect human creation

[poughkeepsies]

the fact that both Eddie and Maddie had my favorite looks of the season during 6x11 just proves both my theories that 1) everyone looks sexier in emotional distress and 2) we should put Buck in a coma more often

[icewindandboringhorror]

Various images of things

[artemisiatridentata]

today a couple of my coworkers mentioned they’re watching the x files and that they’re on season 3 and they “love the chemistry between mulder and scully” and “can’t wait to see where it goes” and it took everything in me not to let out a wilhelm scream

[crowleys-dark-sunglasses]

"Shows with over 10 episodes are too long and have too much filler, I don't like i-"

No. Stop right there.

Filler is good. You can hate it all you want, but filler is what lets you get to know a character outside of the plot. Oh, half of an episode was focused on the main character meeting an old friend? Okay, yes. Tell me how they met, let me see how they interact with them, what dynamic do they have? Are they a secret hugger to the people they love? All these things let you get to know a character more and bond with the main character.

Idk if it's just me but all these new shows that are like 5 hours total runtime are a bit boring to me cause you only know what the plot needs you to know. So why should I care if they get hurt? I haven't connected with them, I haven't seen them humanized. Please, let shows be long, let them have filler episodes, let us connect with the characters!!!

[raeofgayshine]

Sometimes in life I’m just vibing and then out of nowhere Glee fucking hits me under the jaw and it’s all I can think about and I still wish that show was better because it altered my life and had so much potential if there wasn’t a need to cause drama just for the sake of it