#season 4 is BAD
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Season 4 makes Season 3 look like Saeson 1/Season 2
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boysborntodie · 3 months ago
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TUA S4 proved that Netflix cancelling their shows after the first season is actually a good thing
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herbertwest · 1 year ago
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Finished Season 4 of Fargo FINALLY and uh
It's bad
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laurrelise · 2 months ago
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“five and lila actually make total sense” “all these fake fans just don’t understand” “the writers have been planning this since lila was introduced”
my honest reaction:
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univemma · 3 months ago
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I acknowledge that the season was cut almost in half so I should really cut them some slack but I WON'T, SO:
Plot holes/Forgotten Stuff in TUA:
(some of these are mostly just unanswered questions)
-Sloane?? Where tf did she go?
-Why was Jennifer (in the original timeline) in a cage? In Moldova?? Like, was she discovered to have something ( the dimaldo stuff whatever) inside of her, so they wanted to test on her? if she never came into contact with marigold before ben then why would they? WHAT
-also wait how the fuck did she get that stuff in her anyway? How did the dimaldo get to earth after it caused the end of Reginald's home planet? Like,,,shouldnt we know that?
-Her,,,in a squid??? she was Inside a giant squid? W h a t
-the S3 post credits of ben in the train. sure, whatever, that means nothing LMAOO
-I also can't get over - Five explaining "oh yeah when we do this EVERY ALTERNATE TIMELINE is gonna be destroyed, leaving only what should've been - the original," and lila fighitng to put her family in the train station,,,All the other timelines will be destroyed??They're dying and being reborn/reincarnated in the new one anyway GIRL WHAT ARE YOU DOING
(unless ive highly misunderstood that which is likely)
-this isnt a plot hole just - five "trying desperately over and over again to save his unhelpful family who he loves very very much" being literally turned into,,,that. did someone say character assassination?
-lila and five. thats a plot hole in and of itself I DONT CARE if he's aged 12 years from season 3, (6 yr timeskip at beginning of season, then 6 technically 7 in teh train), I DONT CARE IF HES 25 NOW, I DONT CARE IF HES MENTALLY 60 SOMETHING. Lila met and spent time with him when he looked like THIS
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THATS A CHILD. and clearly, the family had SOME contact in the 6 yr skip, so she WATCHED HIM GROW UP from 13 - 19, like thats just so WEIRD WHAT
this was supposed to be plot holes and just turned into me being pissed im sorry but HOW DO YOU FUCK UP AN ENDING THIS BAD??
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taffywabbit · 2 months ago
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I finally watched breaking bad (all within the past week or so while I worked, finished it and watched el camino last night) and I'm confident this isn't a new thought I'm expressing or anything but genuinely how DID an entire generation of dudes convince themselves Walter White was cool and admirable and intended to be sympathetic. I know ppl just lack media literacy sometimes but I'm still so confused
I don't think I've EVER watched a piece of media that so blatantly depicts a guy making the worst possible decisions at every turn and having his life ruined for it and not being redeemed or made sympathetic in any significant or lasting way. the kinds of justifications villains USUALLY give that make people consider them "morally grey" or "tragic" or whatever (everything I did was for my loved ones, I did what I had to to survive, once I was in this I couldn't get out, I just needed you to trust me so I could keep you safe, etc etc) is ALWAYS framed as complete self-serving bullshit when Walt says it, and one of the only shreds of personal growth he ever exhibits in the whole series is when he finally fucking admits that. every time he does something even remotely cool or drops a quotable one-liner, something terrible immediately happens that makes everything worse and makes him look like an unreasonable idiot asshole again. by the end of the series the ONLY characters they can still contrast as being morally "worse" than him are literally a bunch of bloodthirsty neonazis who kept a guy in a cage for several months. this show is practically SCREAMING at you the entire time not to admire Walt. why did every dude I knew in highschool have his face on tshirts and Facebook pfps.
I just don't get it. at least with The Dark Knight's Joker it was like, a feature-length movie and that's it. you spend a lot less time with the Joker and it has a lot less time to delve into his motivations, so there's way more room for flanderization and misinterpretation as people extrapolate the few cool/interesting/sad things they saw into a whole nuanced misunderstood guy in their heads and online. Walter White has 5 seasons' worth of 45min episodes to convince you beyond a shadow of a doubt that he is a miserable fucking loser who ruins everything he touches because of greed and selfishness. if you weren't watching it for that, what WERE you getting out of this. what DID you think this show was about. am I just missing some key piece of context from 2012 or whatever that would help me understand this
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veryberrybad · 4 months ago
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i NEED the sexy poll to be real in universe, it’ll never not be funny to me
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saudrag · 4 months ago
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homelander almost crying because a bunch of random politicians called him dumb is top-1 scene of the episode. y’all, he was not created to be the smartest person alive. he’s just a pretty boy and that should be enough
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alwerakoo · 3 months ago
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I'm an umbrella academy s4 survivor
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twinstxrs · 8 months ago
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so much happened in this whole episode but i’m still on fig infiltrating ruben’s dream, making it look like the place where his friend was murdered, and then disguising herself as kipperlilly & repeatedly saying different variants of “somebody needs to take the fall for this, and it’s not going to be me. it’s going to be you.” while adaine as the elven oracle shows up next to her. can you imagine waking up from that, the idea of a horrible truth being pinned on you by your friend to save her own skin while the personification of fate and destiny stands there, almost as a promise that this is GOING to happen to you. we don’t even know if this kid is guilty. my god.
#fantasy high#dimension 20#fhjy#fhjy spoilers#fantasy high junior year#fig faeth#ruben hopclap#lucy frostblade#the rat grinders#adaine abernant#kipperlilly copperkettle#watching fig terrorize him like girl!!! we don’t even know if he’s guilty!!!!#this might just be for me but i do not think 5 teenagers willingly brutally killed their friend idk#like there just has to be some other element to it and i am very scared to find out what that was#what if they were put in a position where they felt there was/there was no other choice… like oh my god#my comedy brain is having fun but my ‘this is a teenager’ brain is in such deep distress all the time this season#the rat grinders i trust brennan to not make u cartoonishly evil so i am holding u as gently as i can in my confused shaky hands#also with the devil’s nectar i’ve been wondering why they all seem so well-adjusted & now i’m curious if they’ve been intentionally-#changing their memories in a way so that either the trauma is lesser or they think they aren’t guilty. idk#but it seems like from how gertie was talking she was making it more recently so the well adjustedness from early jy doesn’t quite add up#they could have another source maybe??? idk i’m just low stakes 4 a.m. spitballing here#there’s also the strong possibility that they’re aware of what happened but they weren’t the ones who killed lucy. idk who knows#the way you could probably devil’s nectar yourself into believing it wasn’t your fault someone died… CRAZY IMPLICATIONS!!! CRAZY IDEA!!!#anyways the bad kids & the rat grinders don’t ever have to like each other but i do wonder if at least some of those kids deserve a chance
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hotshotsxyz · 1 month ago
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the taste of iron
(buddie) (2.3k words) (8x01 alternate ending) so i made a joke the other day about what would have happened if buck hadn't pushed gerrard out of the way and then i kept thinking about it and then it wasn't a joke anymore and now we're here content warning: minor character death (but like. it's gerrard) (also blood related to said death)
Gerrard is so fucking loud. The vitriol, the bigotry, that’s what makes Buck angry, but it’s the volume that sets his teeth on edge. How it isn’t driving the rest of them insane, he’ll never understand.
The more he berates, the louder he gets. The construction, just feet away, adds to the cacophony. Buck can feel his eardrums vibrating with every spit-punctuated syllable that flies from Gerrard’s mouth. He needs it to stop, he needs it to—
All at once, three things happen. Gerrard’s hand comes up, finger pointed accusingly at the center of his chest. Buck takes an instinctive step back and stumbles, just enough to throw him off balance. The sound of the saw changes.
The split second it takes for Buck to steady himself is a split second too long.  The saw blade flies across the room and embeds itself in the engine, but not before slicing deep into the tissue of Gerrard’s throat. Arterial blood sprays itself across Buck’s face. For a moment, everything goes quiet. Then, it descends into chaos.
Distantly, Buck hears someone shout his name. A hand grabs his shoulder and—
Firefighter needs help, I repeat—
—spins him around.
“Buck!” It’s Eddie’s voice, but Eddie—
Are you hurt?
—Eddie’s hands are on him, on his face, on his chest. They come away red and slick with blood.
“You’re okay, Buck, look at me, you’re okay.”
Go! Go, go, go go!
Buck blinks. Swallows. He tastes—
Three minutes away, we’re so close.
Eddie’s hands find his face again. “Look at me,” he says, as if Buck could ever look away. “I need you to breathe.”
I need you to hang—I need you to hang on.
Buck takes a breath, then another. There’s blood on his face. Eddie’s hands are on his face. Eddie’s hands are covered in blood. It’s not Eddie’s blood. It’s not Eddie’s blood.
There’s a siren, but Eddie’s not in the engine. Eddie’s in front of him, still standing. Eddie—
“Just like that, there you go. With me. In… and out…” His voice is calm, steady, unlabored.
“You’re—” Buck croaks.
Eddie’s eyes are wide and brown and focused. “I’m right here, Buck, keep breathing with me.”
His hand rises of its own accord and finds Eddie’s shoulder. The fabric of his t-shirt is dry and undamaged. Eddie’s brows draw together and a moment later realization seems to dawn.
“I’m okay, Buck,” he says, painfully quiet. “I’m not hurt.”
All at once, the tension that’s been keeping him upright goes. He stumbles, and without Eddie’s steadying grip, he’d probably fall. Buck blinks a few times, and the blurry world around him and Eddie comes back into focus.
Eddie’s turned him away from the engine bay, away from what must be an ocean of blood behind him. Everything he can see looks normal, but it’s unnaturally quiet. Buck lets out a shaky breath.
“Fuck,” he whispers, and it’s like shattering glass the way it breaks the silence.
Eddie’s face relaxes a fraction. “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.”
Buck lets Eddie pull him toward the locker room and guide him down onto the bench. He’s gentle, like Buck might break if he presses just a little bit too hard. He pulls at Buck’s shirt until it comes untucked, then carefully peels it off of him, leaving shivering gooseflesh in his wake.
“I’ll be right back,” Eddie says, “I promise.”
Buck nods numbly.
Eddie slips into the bathroom, and a moment later Buck hears the sound of running water. He comes back a few seconds later with clean hands and a damp towel.
“Okay,” he says quietly. He kneels and brings the towel to Buck’s cheek. It’s warm; Eddie must’ve waited for the water to heat before wetting it.
With one hand, Eddie drags the towel in soft, short strokes across Buck’s skin. The other cups the back of his head, steadying him. Buck’s eyes flutter closed, and Eddie takes the opportunity to carefully wipe at the blood that flecks his eyelids.
Finally, Buck hears the towel drop wetly to the floor and opens his eyes.
“With me?” Eddie asks. His eyes bore into Buck’s.
“Yeah,” he rasps.
Eddie squeezes his knee and stands. “Good,” he says, turning away just long enough to fish a sweatshirt from his locker and hand it to Buck.
“Thanks.” Buck pulls the sweatshirt on and is immediately enveloped by the smell of Eddie’s laundry detergent. It settles a little more of the anxiety that’s dug itself deep into his stomach.
Eddie settles next to him on the bench and brushes their shoulders together. “You want to talk about it?”
Buck shakes his head. He doesn’t. But—
“Is he dead?”
In his peripherals, Buck sees Eddie frown. “Probably,” he says after a long moment.
“Oh.” Buck feels less about that than he thought he might. He’s neither sad nor relieved, though he suspects the apathy will fade with the shock. “Can we go home?”
Eddie huffs a soft breath that might’ve been a laugh on another day. “Yeah. Pretty sure the 118’s not going back into service until B shift gets here.”
“Who’s going to deal with…” Buck trails off.
“Not us,” Eddie says decisively. He stands and grabs both of their bags from the lockers. “Come on, I’ll drive.”
“You hate driving,” Buck says quietly.
The corner of Eddie’s mouth ticks up. “Which is why I owe you more rides than you’ll ever cash in on.”
Buck surprises himself with something close to a laugh. “Yeah, okay,” he says.
Eddie all but manhandles him into the passenger seat of the truck, lingering just a moment longer than strictly necessary, then jogs over to the driver’s side. He turns the key in the ignition and fiddles with the radio until it lands on a station playing something old and soft.
As far as Buck can tell, it’s not a song he’s heard before, but it’s warm and comfortable all the same. He relaxes into his seat and pulls the sleeves of Eddie’s sweatshirt over his knuckles. It’s loose on him, unlike the majority of Eddie’s clothing, and Buck wonders if he bought it with a day like this in mind.
Eddie taps his fingers on the wheel as he drives and glances over at Buck every time they hit a red light. He’s quiet, though, and Buck is too, grateful for the chance to gather himself in the near silence. By the time they pull into Eddie’s driveway, Buck’s starting to feel mostly like a person again.
He follows Eddie inside, and it’d probably feel like any other day if he wasn’t still wearing his uniform pants and boots.
“I’m just gonna…” Buck says, nodding toward Eddie’s bedroom as he toes out of his shoes.
Eddie steps around him and squeezes his elbow. “I’ll be in the kitchen,” he says, but it feels a little more like, ‘take all the time you need, I’ll still be here’.
Buck’s had a drawer at Eddie’s almost as long as he’s known him. He bypasses that drawer and goes straight for the one that houses Eddie’s most comfortable and threadbare pajamas. He changes into a pair of soft cutoffs, and with his uniform sheds the last of the tension in his shoulders.
He wanders into the kitchen and finds Eddie whisking eggs in a mixing bowl. Wordlessly, Buck sets the table and pours two glasses of orange juice. When he’s done, he sits, knowing exactly what Eddie will say if he offers to help with the food.
A few minutes later, Eddie carries two plates to the table. Breakfast is simple, just scrambled eggs and toast, but Eddie’s gotten good at this; the eggs are beautifully fluffy and the toast is a perfect golden brown.
“Hang on a sec,” Eddie says.
He goes over to the fridge and returns with a new, unopened jar of blueberry preserves, the kind you can only get at the farmer’s market. Buck swallows thickly, suddenly aware of just how many words are caught in his throat.
“Thanks,” he says, the only one of them he thinks will come out painlessly.
Eddie ghosts his hand along Buck’s shoulder then sits in the chair closest to his.
“Eat,” he says softly, and it’s only then that Buck realizes he hasn’t even picked up his fork.
Buck read somewhere, once, that the physical act of chewing was enough to meaningfully lower cortisol levels. He’s not actually sure if it’s true, but sitting here with Eddie, he thinks it might be. It makes sense – you don’t stop to eat until the danger has passed. You eat when you feel safe. Buck feels safe. He spreads blueberry preserves on his toast and eats.
When he’s done, Eddie grabs both of their plates and drops them in the sink. He returns to his chair.
“Do you want to talk or try to get some rest?” he asks after a long moment.
Rest sounds really good, actually, but—“I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep,” Buck admits.
“We can watch a movie,” Eddie says, offering him an out.
Buck smiles half-heartedly. “Not sure I can do that, either,” he says.
“Then tell me,” Eddie says, voice full of all the concern he hasn’t expressed yet.
“I’m not sure what to say,” Buck says, finding it to be true as soon as it leaves his mouth.
Eddie looks conflicted for a second, but then his expression steels. “When I got shot. That’s what it reminded you of, right?”
There’s a certain relief in not having to voice it himself. Buck nods.
“Okay,” Eddie says gently.
“For—for a second I wasn’t in the station anymore. It was—I know you don’t really remember anything about that day.” Buck shrugs helplessly.
“I do,” Eddie offers. “Not most of it, I mean, but…” Eddie lifts his hand to Buck’s face and brushes a thumb along the curve of his cheek.   
Something Buck doesn’t have a name for clenches in his stomach.
“I have this picture of you in my head; I was never quite sure whether or not I dreamed it.”
Buck’s breath catches in his chest.
“Guess not,” Eddie says ruefully, shaking his head.
“What, um—what do you—” Buck presses his lips together as the rest of the question refuses to form in his mouth.
Eddie sighs. “We never really talked about this, did we?”
Buck frowns. “We did,” he says.
Eddie shakes his head. “We talked about me, but you were there, too.”
“I didn’t get shot, Eddie.”
“And I didn’t get struck by lightning.”
Buck looks down at his hands and realizes they’re shaking.
“I know what it feels like to watch you die, Buck,” Eddie says seriously. “And you know how it feels to be covered in my blood.”
“I know how it tastes,” Buck corrects quietly. He glances up in time to see the stricken expression on Eddie’s face.
“What?” he breathes.
“It was the only thing I could taste for weeks.” Eddie’s hands find his. “And then today, I tasted it again.”
“Buck,” Eddie says roughly. Buck’s always liked the way his name sounds on Eddie’s lips. He says it like it means something.
All at once, Buck realizes that he’s been waiting years for permission to talk about this, permission Eddie’s finally given him, and it all comes pouring out.
“I thought you were gonna die, Eds. I—I thought I was going to have the taste of your blood in my mouth for the rest of my life. And I—god, I blamed myself for—for not seeing it coming, or getting to you faster.”
Eddie’s hands tighten around his. “You got there fast enough. You saved me,” he says.
Buck laughs softly. “I know. In my head I know that, but—but it never feels like it.”
“Still?” Eddie asks.
In lieu of a response, Buck takes one of Eddie’s hands in his own and presses his fingers to the pulse point in his wrist. His heart beats strong and steady. Buck closes his eyes.
“I’m sorry,” Eddie says.
He blinks them back open. His brow furrows. “For what?”
Eddie’s lips twist painfully. “We should have talked about this a long time ago. I should’ve asked.”
Buck shakes his head. “That’s not on you.”
“I think it might be,” Eddie says.
“You got shot,” Buck says. “You’re allowed to avoid the subject.”
Eddie huffs a soft breath. “I think…” he trails off.
Buck waits, counting every beat of Eddie’s pulse against his fingertips.
“I think I was afraid that if we talked about it, I’d remember.”
“And you didn’t want to,” Buck says. “I get that.”
“It’s all so blurry,” Eddie says, “but I remember the way it hurt. I remember being afraid. But I also—there was a moment, somewhere in all that, when I wasn’t afraid anymore.”
Buck bites his lip and nods.
“And…” Eddie’s jaw tightens for a moment. “And when I think about that, I—that’s when I see you.”
Buck takes a sharp, aching breath.
Eddie watches him for a long moment until something minute shifts in his expression. “Oh,” he says softly.
“What?” Buck asks.
Eddie shakes his head. “I just—I remembered something else.”
“Do you want to…”
“I think I’m gonna need a minute with this one,” Eddie says. “But I’ll tell you. I promise.”
“You don’t have to,” Buck says.
The corner of Eddie’s mouth ticks up into a small smile. “I know.”
“Okay,” Buck says softly. He holds Eddie’s gaze for several seconds, but nothing in it scares him. It’s Eddie, warm, perceptive and sure. “I—I think I might be able to sleep.”
“Good,” Eddie says. He stands, pulling Buck up with him. “Come on.”
And just as he has every other time Eddie’s asked him to, Buck follows.
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crosshairslongasslegs · 7 months ago
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brothers till the end
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moon-n-night · 7 days ago
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Joxter teaching Snufkin how to talk to animals with his beatboxing skills.
Father and Son bonding that I wish they have.
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strangerathecinema · 3 months ago
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silly community textposts pt. 4
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strobbylemonade · 1 month ago
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i think these two are funny
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starkeyisthelastname · 26 days ago
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we been knowing this, but season 4 rafe most def talks you through it
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