#tv fun
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pickerwheelpolls · 1 month ago
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You are faced with some random problem and the only person who can help you is the main character from the last piece of media you consumed (you can also do favorite character if there are multiple main characters). You can stay in this universe or be in the universe of the character, whichever you prefer, but the problem remains the same and the only person who can directly help you is the main character. That character can call on the help of those they know in their media, but when it comes down to it, they are the only person really helping you. How do you react to this situation?
Spin to find out your problem:
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apollohour · 2 months ago
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spin the wheel for a genre!
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nenoname · 25 days ago
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i forgot that the journal confirmed that this deleted scene is still canon
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angelofdumpsterfires · 6 months ago
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how i feel about all the changes in s3
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glassiskies · 2 years ago
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immediately thought of that one meme when I watched this scene in episode 2 LMAO
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mythtakens · 8 months ago
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Chimney + movie quote moments
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oh-a-very-toxic-octopus · 1 year ago
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My TV is trying to break.
Specifically, we were watching Saltburn and the screen flickered black a few times when we first met the family, and we thought it was part of the film because yeah no I'd partway black out if I experienced cringe like that, jeez.
TV went back to normal for a long stretch, with a single understandable flash during that goddamn bath scene.
And then we reached the centre of the maze and it flashed black and flashed black and stayed black. The audio continued through their argument and then into the waking of the house, at which point I realised our ambilight was still behaving like there should be colours on the screen, aaand we finally discovered the TV had been spasming throughout the film (understandable, TV, I too died many deaths while watching this).
It's an odd and annoying fault. The TV works as normal for a while before the screen cuts out, and then it doesn't matter if I turn it off and on again, it's dead until I do a power cycle and we get another x amount of time before it shits its brain out again.
Backlight doesn't seem to be the issue. I'm thinking surely it's some kind of firmware problem rather than a loose connector, but idk. I've plonked it back on factory settings and checked for updates (there were none) and haven't properly tested since. I also haven't opened it up yet. I'm not great with electrics, but at the moment I am primarily daunted by the SHEER NUMBER OF SCREWS it takes to secure a back panel on a 50" telly. Dear god I simply cannot be arsed at this time.
I will ofc regret this laziness when I want to watch TV tomorrow and the bastard thing's still freaking out.
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acornwellian · 2 months ago
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the severance season 2 speedy squad of six
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vintagetvstars · 2 months ago
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Congratulations! You have been magically transported into the world of a vintage tv series. The universe has also decided that you’re going to be a new plot important character and regular on the show.
Spin the wheel to see which show you are transported into.
Thought it'd be fun to make one of those spin the wheel polls using some of the many shows that were submitted for our hottest vintage tv star tournament.
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saintclementinearts · 2 months ago
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I’m certain someone has already done this but. It’s necessary.
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merverse · 1 year ago
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thinking about how they said grover was affected the most out of everyone bc he was alone and how nico and bianca stayed for 70 years inside that hotel and didn't forget each other bc they were always within reach and how that little detail makes their story even more devastating bc they got through it together and the moment they got out they get separated and then bianca never comes back
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daughter-heir · 10 days ago
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wheel of time is the gay fantasy show everyone has been waiting for so why aren’t all of you watching it!!!!why eat scraps (one queer character, non canon ships) when you can dine like kings (multiple canon queer couples, polyamory, homophobia not existing in universe, gay showrunner dedicated to representation, etc). take my hand. walk with me
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feelingtheaster99 · 1 year ago
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It is completely in character for Percy to say he has some dumb questions, then ask incredibly valid questions that no one has brought up till now
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luxuriainash · 3 months ago
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The Mementos Tweet For an Incredibly Niche Overlap of Audiences, Vol. XIII,
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minjimunji · 11 months ago
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One of my favorite moments from the last olympian 😋
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lockandkeyblade · 24 days ago
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First Rule of Ghost Fight Club
Hey look ma, there's a multichapter now!
Several months ago the GiW, flush off the success of having the Anti-Ecto Acts passed– even if they had to hide it beneath several hundred adjustments to agricultural and infrastructure legislation– made a mistake.
Their little campaign of hatred was going well, maybe too well– so why not make it public? Why not grasp for a little more power, incite some torch and pitchforks? There were a dozen roads the stupid bastards could've taken, but they wanted the shortcut. The highway.
They decided that their next campaign against the ghosts would be to release several videos highlighting the utter destruction left in the wake of their fights. Show America there was something worth fighting on their hometurf. Make them angry. Make them vicious.
Jason figures they’d expected some backlash for it. There would've been a PR guy, or ten, or twenty, paid the big bucks just to sit around and consider it all. He'd interrupted enough board room meetings in his youth past life that he's got a pretty damn good idea of what to visualize; a bunch of white guys, forty plus, sitting around and deciding how people they did not know, understand, or give two fucks about were likely to receive this kind of news.
Ghosts were real, and terrible. The slogans were equally as bad, of course. And that wasn't on the PR team- that was on whatever dead-eyed millennial got paid way too little to give a fuck. Grandma can't cook you pies like she used to- she's too busy eating your soul. Little Timmy who fell down the well has taken one too many pointers from Samara Morgan. That kinda shit.
Someone was still gonna care about 'em. Someone was gonna call this inhumane. Someone would look into that Act and realize ghosts; talking, once-living people (some of 'em), had less rights than the average lab rat. Someone would start a protest.
The GiW would've thought about that and prepared for it. They must've felt invincible enough to chance it anyway, because they started uploading their 'documentaries' on the barbarity of ghosts online. Probably stroking their cliché ass moustaches and puffing cheap cigars all the while.
The fuckers would've expected all that. What they didn't expect, when blasting the world with their little softcore snuff vids, was how into it the world became.
Ghost fights? Were fucking badass.
And now the whole world knows it.
Gotham, especially, knows it. Gotham loves it. This was the kind of thing that was made to take over the nightlife of an already unhinged city; sports bars replacing football with the newest renditions of that one robot dude smacking down a couple of buildings, taking bets on what was gonna get him first– Danger Twink, Little Red Flying Hood, Morally Ambiguous Scientists, or The Man.
Proper names for each entity- and every other painfully stereotypical character involved- were hard to come by, initially. Most of those founding videos had the sound swapped out for the screams of children, flat voiceovers of scientists reminding the people that ghosts don't feel, so don't feel for them.
The bars played 'em on mute and blasted their own tunes over the top. Others had their own live MCs to commentate on the action. Robot dude got the name Gadget Goatee, the sweetass punk rock girl was On Fleek. The ghost seemingly addicted to boxes was Box Ghost. Names like that. When camera crews of reputable (and not so reputable) sports channels started sneaking into Amity Park, some names got adjusted. Some didn't.
The day pre-fight interviews began to happen was the day Jason seriously started considering why the Justice League hadn't gotten involved yet, enough to ease that question into conversation with Dickiebird. To sate his curiosity, no other reason. Turns out, Danger Twink had asked them not to. And the Justice League, full of some of the most anal and controlling people Jason has ever had the misfortune to meet, had listened to him. The petition signed by almost the entirety of Amity Park's population had probably helped.
Apparently, the city didn't want or need help. On the fighting front, at least. Nightwing is as in the dark for what, precisely, had been shared about why that was, but it was enough for Batman to raise the requirements for permission to be obtained by any hero wanting to go into Amity Park’s space– and for the rest of the founding members to approve them. 
JL's continued efforts to flatten the GiW and their miserable Anti-Ecto Acts had been cheerfully encouraged. Everything else, though? That was Danger Twink's problem. Or Phantom's joy, if you asked Jason's opinion on the matter. Not that anyone did.
The reality these days was that the government agency, high off their own fumes- as they often were- managed to fuck themselves right out of existence. And the ghosts? The ghost fights?
They were there to stay. Impressively contained within Amity Park with a startling level of confidence and control, all thanks to one girl on a hoverboard and a dead guy.
Place was even considered a chill place to visit, contrary to the continually televised property damage. The fights continued to maintain a level of popularity that was almost feverish, stealing their way into primetime television, spawning a couple dozen streaming services that would inevitably cannibalise themselves.
Oh, Jason could see the appeal of those fights. Hell, if he thought he could get away with it, he’d join ‘em. Sure, most of Gotham was into it for the more obvious reasons. Vicious mauling and extensive infrastructure repair that wasn't their problem, for once. Something new to bet on, some cool people (dead, alive, or never alive in the first place) to throw merchandise around for. The phenomenal amount of simping, the utterly batshit rule 34 that could be found online. A few ghost themed cocktails. All that good shit.
Jason just liked the sound.
He hadn't gotten into the videos until he could hear 'em, the ghosts themselves. It was something he kept to himself, seeing as- hey, no one else was mentioning it. His family was likely to think him insane again, so that was another deterrent. Nah, let folks think Red Hood enjoyed having that shit on in the background for...inspiration. Of the this might happen to the next person who crosses me variety.
But nah. He just, liked the sound.
It was like a secret concert, just for him. Some of those fights might as well be fucking operas. Full on musicals with a bit more green blood to 'em. Every ghost sang in a way Jason couldn't describe. There was a vibrato to it all, otherworldly and entrancing. A resonance that seemed to sink past his skin, right down to his soul.
They sing about obsession. They talk about what matters most to them, the parts of their unlife that are their beating hearts, their drive, their love. Every fight is an illicit fantasy, an almost embarrassing revelation of the people beneath the caricatures– Gotham sees neat fights, and Jason hears souls. 
It was simultaneously off-putting and addictive.
And fuck him sideways, but sometimes? The songs were kind of cute.
Especially the ones for Danger Twink. Most of the songs were for Danger Twink. Phantom, as he kept trying to tell the media, over and over again. The kid barely looked legal, though it was hard to tell when he was, y'know, six feet under. Brat could be 
Bruce's great grandpa several times over, for all he knew.
But he wasn't, if the songs were anything to go by. As far as the ghosts were concerned, this implied to be twenty year-old was, in ghost terms, baby. He was baby.
All the other ghosts knew it. All the other ghosts adored it. A solid fifty percent of the songs Jason could hear, day in, day out, were basically gooshy renditions of look at our small king. Our light. He has grown so much.
That Phantom’s response is usually the equivalent of mom please, you’re embarrassing me, as he makes a crater out of the earth with his opponent? Classic.
In a way, this whole shebang the world was addicted to was just a community trying to rear their child. Their potentially important child, or just important to them. Jason really didn’t know which way it was leaning, and it’s not like he could ask.
Really, he was just content to witness, maybe fantasize, a little, about what kind of songs they’d sing under his fists. What kind of song Phantom might sing, if Jason pinned him into the dirt.
One video changes that.
It’s a new one. Gotham is terribly excited by it; wherever Jason goes, he sees advertisements and hears people talking because– new ghost. New ghost. A new challenger approaches. The bars and the television companies keep any hints of who or what this late entry to the game might be, and it’s smart. Everybody’s talking about it. Fuck, even Tim is talking about it, and that little idiot hates the whole thing. Thinks it’s sickening that any being’s pain could be turned into sport.
Not that he’s wrong, just, y’know. No one’s really being hurt. 
Jason thinks he might also be… a little anticipatory. He’s gotten awfully familiar with the usual roster, their songs something that rattles off in his head throughout the day. He knows– heh. He knows what Phantom sings back to them. Intimately. Has that part memorized, and he’s not ashamed to admit it.
He wants to hear Phantom sing about something new. That’s what’s exciting.
It’s exciting right up until he’s slouched down at a bar, eyes fixed to the screen and the cheers of the crowd around him drowned out by a tune that turns his blood to ice, stirs up something that’s been quiet in him for years, until his eyes flash green.
Because the new ghost doesn’t want to play with Phantom. He wants to own him. Like a dog. With discordant notes that sound like laughter, high pitched and crazed, like a metal pipe slamming into his face, over and over again–
And Phantom is defiant, glorious, powerful.
Afraid.
Jason doesn’t remember getting onto his bike, but as he heads east, he knows exactly where he’s going. Fuck permission, fuck the Justice League, and fuck Phantom for trying to handle that sort of shit on his own.
He doesn’t know how he’s gonna do it, but this Plasmius guy? Is about to learn what it’s like to die. For the second time.
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