#I cry so much about this show
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buckbuckleybidisaster · 6 months ago
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I think about Half Bad on Netflix daily and the fact it isn’t going to have a season 2 when it was so fucking good. If you haven’t seen it pls even though there is only one season please watch it ITS SO FUCKING GOOD!!
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idolomantises · 3 months ago
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Man is it just me or are a lot of TV shows nowadays are written to have big emotional episodes in scenes with very little build up.
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hinamie · 5 months ago
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"I'll show you every day that choosing to live was worth it"
some of my favourite scenes from @hijinks-n-lowjinks' fic things i would miss from the other side . this fic tore my heart out fr but like in a good way and i wanted to pay it homage the only way i know how <3
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mwagneto · 2 months ago
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no!!!!!! 8 episodes will kill patient!!!!!!!! he needs 12-24 episodes some of which is light-hearted filler to live!!!!!!!!!!!!
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liam-summers · 2 months ago
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BtVs 3.07 | AtS 1.03
BonusđŸŽ¶
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old-skyguy · 3 months ago
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The silly stupid alien show about ghosts that steal your cock and balls just pulled the most gut wrenching, poignant shit possible and portrayed it so artistically and meaningfully what is even life.
This was MASTERFULLY done. The visual and environmental storytelling, the subtle foreshadowing, and inject those motifs into my fucking BLOOD.
Ho. Ly shit. Good fucking lord.
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14dayswithyou · 4 months ago
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tell ren to turn his location on👉👈
I saw one of the posts of how ren does get jealous of pets being loved over him and alll that so now I have the thought of the one meme of ‘ah yes, me, my partner and their [enter normal pet size] foot [pet]’
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I don’t have anything else, it did pop into my head though and I thought I’d share with the class.
⌞♄⌝ ItsNotVivy on Twitter actually made that exact meme with Ren a looong time ago!!
#💌 — answered.#💖 — 14 days with queue.#thegoofyest#In Viv we trust 😌 They were one of the very first people to take an interest in 14DWY!! /gen#Dare I say..... One of the founding fathers lmaooooo#Also!! Viv (along with a few other twitter artists) were one of the main reasons why I started this Tumblr in da first place! ^^#14DWY didn't have much of a following until they started makin memes and art on Twitter#Then all of a sudden I had all these people wanting to know more about the game; and da next thing I knew; I had over 50 asks overnight lol#So I owe a lot of 14DWY's success to ItsNotVivy; hmimprvmntbsmnt; dreosuger; Diachuu; glade_o; Meowastrophe; noullyart; etc.#And it's also the reason why I wanna show my appreciation towards them all by giving them Easter Eggs in the game#I also kind feel like it's the very least I can do to show my appreciation ghjsgjh ;v; Same with da 14DWY staff on Discord#It's the only place where I ask for help regarding managing the 14DWY socials (everywhere else is just me); and they go through hell n back#—to keep the server a fun and lively place for everyone#I owe so much to them as well; which is why some of da mods already have their own lil Easter Eggs in the game#I also like to think they're canon employees at the Corland Bay library gsdjgjg Except Jesse; that mf would set everything on fire /silly#Also not me getting mushy in the tags????????? What is happening to me.... Where is my mysterious and aloof persona...... /j#I'll shuddup now before I start crying (/pos) over the founding fathers on Tumblr as well lmao
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poorly-drawn-mdzs · 11 months ago
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I want you whipped into shape!
[First] Prev <–-> Next
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specific-dreamer · 12 days ago
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it’s so important to me that it’s two-bit who carries grease. that its two-bits grease dally asks for. two-bit who’s hair is a much looser texture. because ace doesn’t wear grease, neither does steve or himself. why? CAUSE THEYRE BLACK ALL OF THEM WEAR THEIR NATURAL HAIR ITS THE LATE SIXTIES WHEN NATURAL HAIR WAS BECOMING A STATEMENT THERES A REASON THEY ALL WEAR AFROS
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cecoeur · 4 months ago
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it's hell on earth to be heavenly them's the breaks, they don't come gently
#daniel ricciardo#dr3#went on a hike the sunday after the official announcement and listened to this song on repeat for probably 3 of the 8 miles#POV: me in the middle of the woods telling myself to get it together#while crying about a 35 year old millionaire before I end up passing someone on the trail and they call the police on me#so song is about how female stars are treated overtime and when they first arrive they're praised for being authentic and refreshin#but once the shine wears off and they're a little older and reveal imperfections or they struggle they become a target for ridicule#and then they're discarded for the next new thing in town and the cycle keeps repeating itself forever#which to me so closely mirrors daniel's trajectory in F1 in the eyes of the media#but also when you take the lyrics at face value they are just so daniel...#the f1 ecosystem and more specifically the redbull “family” are fake as hell#and yet daniel is one of their most genuine products who actually can't be easily reproduced (but by god they'll try)#he showed a great deal of promise despite coming from a place that really never should've produced a successful f1 driver#because the cards were stacked against him and nobody really thought he would make it#but he did and he gave us 13 brilliant years (and he has SO much more to give and do and succeed at and he will)#but the wheel of time keeps spinning and the cycle continues for the next shiny new toy that they can nurture and then destroy#anyway i'm not totally in love with these gifs but I need to be done w/them and I had to exorcise this demon that was making me sad
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madbard · 3 months ago
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There’s something to be said about how Stanley Pines was treated his entire life as a lesser echo of his brother.
Stan was the failure. He had no value. He was never told he could thrive on his own, so he never tried. He balanced the weight of his dreams on remaining at Ford’s side, and when Ford revealed he had other plans, he spiraled. He lost his home, tried desperately to make a name for himself while spinning from identity to identity, losing more and more of himself as time went on. After years of running, his brother finally reached out to him again and Stan grabbed onto that lifeline, only to realize Ford didn’t want him to stay. Ford wanted Stan to do something for him. That was all.
Stan would never be anything without Ford. He would never be anything more than Ford. He took his brother’s identity while sacrificing decades of his life, but it wasn’t much of a life anyway, so what was there to lose?
Ford returned, and didn’t even thank him.
Stan had done all of that for nothing. His brother looked him in the eye and (from Stan’s perspective) decided he deserved nothing.
Stanley Pines deserved nothing because Stanley Pines was nothing.
And yet, at the end of everything, when everything else was lost, the world was saved.
Not because Stan pretended to be Ford, fulfilling his role as echo and shadow and double.
No.
Because, in that moment, Bill made a deal with Stanley Pines. The conman, the grunkle, the failure. The defender.
Stanley Pines, who would always protect his family, even if it meant sacrificing himself.
Stanley Pines, who was so very valuable, after all.
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wistfulwatcher · 7 months ago
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bau members + near death experiences
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daynascullys · 3 months ago
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@pscentral members' choice — event 33: underrated tv & film
TIMELESS (2016-2018) Top 10 Highest-Rated Episodes on IMDb
as of November 23, 2024 (insp)
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heph · 7 months ago
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Call me crazy for reading so much into a show like House MD but I think the main theme of House is that despite doing everything perfectly and being a good person, shit happens.
Sickness and pain will be inflicted on you and your loved ones and there's nothing you can do about it, but to persevere, to fight for your life, to keep living despite it all - to love is a part of the human condition; our capability of love is what makes life worth living, despite all the pain that you will inevitably experience.
This show exemplifies the pain of living and the needs and desires of human beings to keep going despite it all
And idk... There's something beautiful about how a show with so many stupid whimsical dumb scenes can impart something so profound in my stupid little brain
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s0fter-sin · 8 days ago
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pt.3 of my horror au! you can find pt.1 here and pt.2 here!
cw mild horror, fear
johnny opens his eyes
or- he thinks he does
it’s completely black, not a speck of light to be found anywhere; certainly not the lantern he’s started keeping on by his bed or the moonlight that should be coming through the curtains
he remembers falling asleep on the couch; he was exhausted after ripping out the fresh carpet from the sitting room, the pristine thing at odds with the smoke stained walls. it didn’t match any of the carpets or rugs in the rest of the house, too modern compared the vintage fittings and, new or not, that bothered him so it had to go
he just hadn’t been expecting the giant brown stain embedded in the hardwood underneath
he was turning over the pros and cons of buying a floor sander if he ever stopped foot off the property again, promising himself he was only resting his eyes for a moment, and before he knew it, he was out
now he doesn’t even know if he’s awake
“ghost?” johnny whispers. his voice echoes strangely; muted like he’s an in enclosed but long space and bouncing off things he can’t even hope to see
he has no idea where he is. he’s not in the basement, not with how dark it is; even the little cloudy window would be a wellspring of light compared to this. it smells damp too; musty with stillness, like not much air gets to it
johnny sets a hand in the soft dirt beneath him and sits up, some kind of cloth falling off his shoulders. he reaches out with shaking hands, searching for any kind of balance - a wall, furniture, something - and slowly gets to his feet
“ghost, you here?”
his fingers meet nothing but open air and he almost tips over. he has no equilibrium, nothing grounding him; the dark so all-consuming, he might as well have not moved at all
air dances over his cheek and he gasps and spins around when a large hand latches around his wrist and johnny hisses as he’s tugged blindly forward
“ghost?” he asks and the hand tightens
he doesn’t know what to do with the relief trying to warm his belly
“hey, slow- slow down, i can’t see,” he gasps, stumbling over the uneven ground. the whole thing bowed and curved, gravel flicking out into the depths with every step like it was carved out by hand and never smoothed out
johnny swallows hard and clutches at ghost’s arm with his other hand
“ghost, can
 can we go back upstairs?” he whispers, futilely pulling at his sleeve. something old and animal in him claws at the inside of his skull, baying and screaming that he not raise his voice; to not break this unnatural still darkness too harshly. “please?”
ghost just leads him deeper into the void
until he suddenly stops and johnny covers his mouth to mute the beginnings of the scream ripping from his throat when he runs into his back. he digs his fingers into his cheek, forcing a slow breath through his nose
“
you want to show me something?” he guesses and flinches as the air in front of him rushes like ghost’s moving very quickly. something scratches, like rock on rock, and he flinches as he takes his other wrist and cups his hands around something big
ghost’s hands fall away and johnny reflexively clutches the thing to his chest
“don’t leave,” he begs. “please don’t leave me down here.”
silence
he runs his dry tongue over his lips. “ghost?”
those same hands close around his biceps and johnny all but melts into the body-warmth at his back. ghost smooths down his arms, covering his hands with his, and pulls the thing away from his chest to eye-level
like he expects johnny to be able to see it
the way he can
johnny frowns, rubbing over the thing with his thumb. it’s heavier than he expected from the sound it made along the ground; smoother than the rocks he’s seen around the property and the gravel he kicked around down here
ghost’s chin drops on his shoulder and he jumps, pausing as he rolls into his neck and he can clearly feel the wide grin on his face
he blinks and something makes him press back into him, to try and see him with his body. there’s a cleft in his top lip he’s never noticed before and he’s practically shaking, rocking against his back like he’s trying to urge him to go quicker
johnny spins the rock around in his hands, trying to feel what it is, what would make ghost so - almost childishly - excited. his fingers catch on a crater, shallow and smooth like it’s been carved away. he drags his fingers down and feels another, around the same size. his frown deepens and his fingers slow as he finds another hole, this one going straight into the rock
ghost shifts behind him, his grin widening against his skin and something in johnny curdles, his hair standing on end
it feels like he’s not breathing, the dark so complete it’s stealing the air from his very lungs as he works his fingers down the rock; stuttering when the texture suddenly changes. he hits a fissure, then another, another; curls his fingers underneath and feels it flatten out. strangely familiar grooves run along it before it changes and becomes thinner, becomes sharp-
johnny screams
johnny screams and drops the human skull ghost placed in his hands
he throws himself away from ghost and runs blindly into an earth wall. he scratches at the uneven surface, screams still ripping from his throat and feels wet heat on his fingers as his nails scrape and break. his voice cracks, almost shrieking when ghost’s arms suddenly wrap around his waist and pull him back into his chest
“let me out!” johnny screams, fighting his arms, trying to run but run where it’s too dark- “please, let me out, let me out, please!”
ghost’s body curls over his, effortlessly holding him in place as he wrenches in his grip and wails and /screams/. he presses his face into the side of his head and johnny strains to get away, to stop touching him, to run-
and falters when he feels the contours of his face
ghost isn’t smiling anymore
“please,” johnny sobs brokenly, his legs going out from under him. but ghost tightens his grip and doesn’t let him fall. “let me out
 please, i wanna get out. please, please
”
he keeps begging, mindless and panicked and almost screams again when ghost tugs him back a step, his fingers digging into his clothes. he doesn’t want to touch the skull again, he doesn’t want ghost to leave him, he doesn’t want to be lost in the dark-
ghost’s giant hands grip under his thighs, pulling him up and he slings his legs around his waist, burying his face in his throat as he sobs
his weight tilts and johnny flinches as his back suddenly touches dirt, arching up into ghost’s body to get away from it- he doesn’t want to be underground anymore, he doesn’t want to be buried anymore-
ghost wraps an arm under his back, holding him tight to his body, and johnny shrinks even more at the scrape of dirt and brick against the outside of their shoulders as he crawls them through some kind of hole
his weight shifts again, falling into the cradle of ghost’s hips, and he sobs at the feeling of going up
the arm crawling them forward presses against his armpit and johnny cringes at the screech of metal on concrete as ghost shoves something out of the way, involuntarily peeking out behind him
and gasps in pure relief at the moonlight streaming through the basement window; the dim yet powerful light making his eyes ache after so long in such total darkness
he can’t bear to look away from it, even as his eyes twitch and squint, still clinging to ghost as he crawls them across the basement to the stairs. he gets to his feet, not even stumbling with johnny’s added weight, and he strains to keep looking out the window as he climbs up. only when they reach the top step does he wrench his eyes away, desperately searching for the nearest window
and ghost seems to know it; angling him to look out the dining room into the backyard as he carries him to the couch he fell asleep on
johnny keeps his fingers tangled in his hood as he sets him down, holding him close. he doesn’t even try to pull back and he feels him drop to kneel between his legs, compressing himself down the way a man of his size shouldn’t be able to
his breath stutters on an inhale and johnny forces himself to drag his eyes away from the light, to take his first real look at the source of all his terror; the ghost in his walls

and he’s just a man
his hair has been hacked at, patches ripped out and uneven, too fine to dread but matted together all the same. thinner patches struggle to grow through shiny scar tissue; some blunt and wide, others looking like burns. but beneath the caked in dirt and years of grease
 it might be blonde
his hoodie and jeans sit tight and loose in turn like they were bought for the build of a very different man, hiding dirty skin so pale he didn’t even know it was possible, almost /translucent/; veins bright and bulging beneath his skin like he’s never seen sunlight
and with the size and complexity of the cavern under the basement
 maybe he hasn’t
but it’s his face johnny gets caught on
his light lashes do nothing to hide the fine scars dug around his eyes, like he scratched at them with his fingernails and after only his short time in the dark, he can guess why he did it. his pupils look permanently dilated, forcing away the deep brown of his irises; unblinking, desperate to take in as much light as possible. more scars cut through his skin, so old and light they almost blend in, difficult to see through the dirt staining his skin
but none of it, the scars, the filth, the uncanny wrongness

none of it hides how beautiful he is
ghost slowly reaches up and johnny freezes as he brings his thumb to his cheek, wiping through the sticky tear tracks on his skin. it makes his sleeve fall back and his heart seizes at the thick, ragged band of scarring ringing his wrist
he swallows heavily as ghost brings it back to his mouth, sucking his tears from his skin. it splits the cleft in his upper lip wider, splaying over his thumb. ghost doesn’t look away and johnny’s heart beats loud in his ears as he reaches for his hand, tangling his fingers through his own, and lifts it to his mouth
his hand shakes as he gently runs his thumb over his bottom lip, catching on his chapped skin and the smaller scars splitting it, but ghost stops his hand; moving his thumb up to his top lip
the cleft matches up to a thick scar running up his cheek, just skirting his nose and almost meeting his eye and johnny’s violently reminded of the body’s worth of blood stained into the floor of the sitting room
“the sk-
” he falters, a shudder creeping up his spine as he remembers the feel of it in his hands. “the person downstairs; did they do this to you?”
ghost cocks his head and johnny’s thumb slips into his mouth, caressing his inner lip
“did
 did they put you down there? in the dark?” he tries again
he sucks at his thumb, a gentle self-soothing pressure
“the couple who used to live here
” johnny breathes, slow with realisation. the couple who lived here for thirty years. the couple the realtor refused to tell him anything about

“they were your parents.”
but she never said anything about a child
“your parents put you down there,” he repeats and feels sick with grief for a boy he’ll never know. “was
 was it your mother?”
ghost rears up on his knees, crawling above him and caging him in against the couch and johnny gasps as he lets out an animalistic snarl in his face, spittle flying onto his cheek
“sorry, i’m sorry, it wasn’t her- it wasn’t her, i know she didn’t do it,” johnny rushes out, flattening himself against the couch and tries to pull his hand away when he presses into it even harder, his thumb pressed to his eye tooth
ghost pants, teeth still bared in a deranged snarl. his mouth twitches, lips slowly falling to cover his teeth. his tongue runs over his lips, gathering the spit from them and tickling the edges of his thumb
“y-your father
?” he tries and his breath catches as he nods
johnny slowly copies him, still pressed back into the couch
ghost’s eyes flicker up at him like he’s checking his reaction and keeps lapping at his thumb, long almost apologetic passes of his tongue as he works down to his palm. he leans in and johnny’s breath stutters as he laves his tongue up his cheek, cleaning up the spit. ghost lets out a low groan, nibbling along his cheekbone and goosebumps prickle his skin
he sinks back down, mouthing a trail down his throat and he shivers as he bites at his collar, tugging it away with his teeth to expose his collarbone
“ghost
” johnny sighs and he pauses
ghost noses at his sternum and sits back on his heels, nuzzling his forehead into his belly as he pulls something from the front pocket of his hoodie
something heavy tumbles out with it but he ignores it in favour of the bundle of cloth ghost pushes into his hands, wrapping his arms around his hips and sinking his chin into his thigh. johnny’s heart sinks as he gently unfolds it, careful of the unthreading edges and torn holes and has to bite his lip hard
it’s a ragged patchwork blanket; hardly big enough to cover a child. and hand embroidered onto it, in faded and dirtied gold thread is a single word
“simon,” he reads, tracing the once-loved letters
simon perks up in his lap, making a gurgling almost purr in the back of his throat; the closest thing to speech he’s heard from him in the month he’s lived here
“your name is simon,” johnny breathes
he thought he considered everything about how he ended up a prisoner in his own house; a serial killer toying with his food, a stalker he never noticed, a random psychopath chomping at the bit for his next victim and johnny was just unlucky enough to draw his attention
but if this is the only thing simon has left, his only proof of before
 he’s been down there, left alone in the rotting dark, for decades
since he was a child
“i’m so sorry, simon,” johnny whispers thickly
but simon just frowns
like he’s never heard an apology in his life
johnny presses his eyes shut for a moment, just for a moment; to let himself feel the pain and the fear and the grief, then refolds the blanket just as tenderly as he opened it. he presses it into simon’s chest and his heart catches at the way he hugs it tight, dropping his chin to nuzzle into the fabric
he flinches as he takes his hand in his, jerking back, but johnny keeps hold of him; gently tangling their fingers together and rises to his feet
“come on,” he beckons, walking backwards towards the stairs
simon’s grip tightens around his blanket. but he follows him, up the stairs johnny sprinted down the morning after he first saw him, across the landing with the vents he counted and dreaded walking past, into his bedroom
where it all began
johnny pushes the door wider and riley pops his head up from his dog bed, tensing and about to jump up when he sees simon behind him
“back to sleep, riley-boy,” he soothes and riley droops and burrows straight back under his blanket, nosing it up over his face until only his ears stick out
he smiles and turns back to simon- but it drops when he sees how he’s frozen in the doorway; quick, wide eyes darting around the room. around the master bedroom, clutching his blanket to his chest like he’s afraid of it being stolen
“it’s okay, simon,” johnny promises, rounding him and takes his other hand in his. “he’s not here anymore; you can come in.”
he slowly steps backwards and with the gentlest tug on his hands, simon follows
but lets out an almost involuntary sounding hiss, squeezing his eyes shut and twisting away from the automatic lantern set up on his bedside table
johnny looks between them, at the warm light that’s been his beacon for the last few weeks, and the man he needed that safety from
he holds his breath
and flicks off the lantern
chills immediately creep up his spine; the encroaching shadows smothering him like waves and it’s only simon’s hand in his, the gleam of moonlight catching his eyes, that keeps him above water
johnny squeezes his hand and brings him to the bed, silently coaxing him under the covers. he’s stiff, holding himself so rigid it almost looks painful, and he leaves the covers around his waist, not wanting to make him feel restricted when he’s already so visually unsure
“just like you did for me,” he murmurs, remembering the scrap cloth of a blanket he woke under
simon’s most prized possession
his only possession
simon cocks his head, that same primitive yet studious look in his eyes as he watches him climb in next to him and tug the covers up to his shoulder. he looks at it then the side over his waist, and pulls it up until it covers him up to the neck
johnny can’t help the smile tugging at his lips and sinks deeper into the bed, the blanket riding up higher
until they match
“we’re safe here, simon,” he promises
simon’s wide brown eyes stare back at him and it’s all to easy to lose himself in them
đŸ’€đŸ§Œ
when johnny wakes up, simon is gone; only a dirt-stained imprint of him left on the sheet and pillowcase
and his phone sitting innocently on the side table, beside the lit lantern
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tecnestheim962 · 9 months ago
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Watching RWBY with friends and having it be their first time is the best thing.
Like watching them react and form opinions of the characters and then watching it completely change later?
Phenomenal.
Seeing them try to theorize what will happen and have them looking at you for the answers and the pure despair when you reveal nothing?
Empowering.
Seeing them slowly start to get obsessed with the show just like you?
Fantastic.
17473819/10 would recommend
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