#was this entire season even real

[atomicjellyb3an]

“the Undercity was just her charity project in season 1 and was just to defy her parents”

“she 100% wouldn’t have cared if she shot Isha”

“it’s been her plan all along-“

BANG

i’m going to need you to never speak on Arcane ever again

[the-auguer]

Fright Night

Just a li’l something that’s been sitting in my drafts for a while. It was titled ‘the girls are fighting’ so do with that what you will.

___________________

Mammon’s nails dig a little bit into your arm. It’s not harsh or purposeful. It just happens. Like how his arm constricts around your chest and squeezes you a bit too tightly. You crane your head to stare at him. His eyes are a harsh blue, the yellow near his iris ablaze, and he’s not looking at you. 

Belphie retracts his arms slowly, a frown marring his previously soft face. 

“Mammon.” he says slowly. Tightly, like Mammon’s arms. “What are you doing?”

Mammon’s grip tightens a little. You push at Mammon’s chest, and try harder when he doesn’t budge. 

“Mammon, let go.”

Mammon glances down at you. “What?! Why!?”

You glare at him. “You’re squeezing.”

Mammon’s hold on you loosens, but he doesn’t let go. You push uselessly at him again, unwilling to Order him, but getting close to it. 

“Mammon,” Belphie says again, his light frown beginning to pull into a scowl. “Why?”

“Whaddaya mean, why?” Mammon snipes back. “You were touchin’ them.”

“We were hugging.”

“Yeah, and you’re not allowed.”

“Not allowed? Then what are you doing?”

“Wha— well obviously they want the Great Mammon to hold them. I’m allowed.”

“And I’m not?”

“No!”

“Why?”

Mammon splutters. “Why? Be-because you’re not allowed, that’s why!”

Levi snorts, sinking deeper into your bed and not glancing up from his D.D.D. “I’m telling Beel that you hit Belphie.”

From his hold, you feel Mammon’s body tense. “I didn’t hit him!”

“You shoved me,” Belphie says, confusion fading into anger. “When I hugged them, you shoved me.”

Beel walks back into your room, a tower of snacks in his arms. He drops them irreverently to the ground and they crackle and crunch at his feet. “Who shoved Belphie?”

Levi cackles. “Mammon.”

Mammon startles, backing both you and him up a few steps. “I did not!”

“Yeah, you did,” Levi sings.

“Yes, you did!” Belphie yells. 

You drive your hand into Mammon’s face to  create more space between the both of you. You were just trying to watch a movie. Why did watching movies always evolve into shit like this? It’s not fair. 

“Let go, Mammon. Now.”

“No!” Mammon shouts, obviously panicked as both Beel and Belphie begin to advance on him. Levi lifts his D.D.D, obviously recording. 

“Why not!” You yell back, wedging your elbow against his cheek and push with all your might. Mammon squawks and tries to pry your arms off his face. 

“Because!”

“No one should push Belphie,” Beel intones, moving closer and closer. 

“They’re not something you can hog all to yourself, Mammon,” Belphie says darkly, in step with Beel.

“Let me go right now!” You shout. If this continues, there’s going to be a dog pile on Mammon and you are not the slightest bit interested in the broken bones that will follow if you get caught up in that. 

“Fight, fight, fight, fight,” Levi chants.

“Mammon,” you scream as Beel gets closer. He’s so obviously focused on Mammon and not on you. Maybe Beel doesn’t even see you right now. “Now!”

“No! He’s not allowed!”

“Why!” Belphie howls.

“You’ll hurt them!”

Belphie freezes his prowl forward, and you pause your attempts to pinch under Mammon’s arms. 

Levi lowers his D.D.D. Beel stops moving entirely. 

Mammon’s eyes dart around anxiously, sensing the change in the room. 

He laughs nervously. “Yeah, you’ll just hurt them, so it’s better for me to hold them. See,” he jostles you, “no harm done.”

You shove Mammon harshly. “Get. Off. Me! Get off me now!”

Surprisingly, Mammon lets go of you this time. His eyes are big and wet. “Why?”

He looks hurt, and usually you would backtrack right about now. You would assure him and explain to him. Sighing, you try. 

“Belphie won’t hurt me.” You say, tiredly. You motion for Levi to put his D.D.D down. “Is this about how you were late? I told you what time I was starting the movie and you decided to stay out shopping.”

“No, it’s not,” Mammon says, sounding petulant. “I’m not mad because of that. I’m mad cause yer lettin’ him touch all over you and he’ll hurt you!”

“No he won’t,” you say, exasperated.

“No I won’t,” Belphie presses.

“No he won’t,” Beel echoes, confusion evident in the furrow of his brows. 

Levi stays quiet, his D.D.D laying on the bed next to him. 

Mammon is your friend. A close friend, even if he’s really bad at being a friend sometimes. You try to understand, despite the throbbing of your head. 

“What do you mean, Mammon? You have to expla—“

“Whaddaya mean, whaddaya I mean?” Mammon interrupts, frustrated. “He already did! He— he—“

Mammon clamps a handful of his hair in his fist, tugging ineffectually. “He hurt you.”

Mammon’s eyes are more than just wet now. He’s tearing up, staring at you imploringly, worse than when he begs you to hide him from Lucifer. It’s almost too much for you to bear. 

Belphie snarls. “That was before— that was because I— I said I was sorry! I’m not going to do it again! You’re just jealous they want to spend time with me, so you’re making up excuses!”

“No I am not!” Mammon yells back, tears disappearing under a rare bearing of fangs. “I’M their first, so there’s nothin’ ta be jealous of! I’m bein’ honest here!”

“You know why you’re their first?” Belphie says dangerously. Beel puts a worried hand on his shoulder, but Belphie shakes it off. “Because Levi threatened them into it to get his money back! They didn’t want to form a pack with you, they had to.”

Levi sank deep into your comforter, mumbling something indistinct as he attempts to be absorbed by the sheets. 

“It’s different now! And that doesn’t matter anymore!”

“Mammon‘s right, Belphie,” you say. “It doesn’t. But both of you need to calm down so we can talk this through.”

“Talk through what? How Mammon thinks I’ll hurt my contractor?”

Beel moves forward, pressing a hand on Belphie’s chest. “That’s right,” he stresses, brows still drawn together. “Belphie has a contract with them. He can’t hurt them.”

“Yes,” you agree, pouncing on Beel’s statement with vigor. “No one in this house can hurt me. See? It’s all fine.”

You glance at the clock, prepared to make an excuse about how late it is and how you are oh so tired and they’ll have to watch a movie another night. 

“But Mammon hurt you,” Levi pipes up, peering out from inside the cocoon he made out of your blanket. “Just now. You’re bleeding.”

You glance down and yeah, the skin of your upper arm is a bit red and there are small cuts where Mammon’s nails had dug in. They’re not bleeding, per se, but they are raw pink and surrounded by ripped skin. 

Mammon almost falls over with how hard he startles. “What! I didn’t— but I didn’t— I didn’t mean to! That was an accident!”

You poke experimentally at your arm. It stings, but no more than it should. You’re fine. 

“I’m fine. It doesn’t hurt.”

You try to smile soothingly at Mammon, who is staring at you like you are the killer in a slasher film, his honey brown skin pale and stricken. 

“Hypocrite,” Belphie crows vindictively. “All that talk and you’re the one who hurt them!”

“I didn’t mean to!” Mammon swears, louder than before. 

“Are you okay?” Beel asks worriedly. He plucks a bag of chips off the floor to press into your hands. “Eat something, it’ll make you feel better.”

You open the bag eat a chip to stave off his fretting. “I’m fine, Beel. It’s fine.” You look at Mammon meaningfully. “I’m fine.” 

“Go-good. And what the hell, Levi!” Mammon shouts, gaining back steam. “Why’d ya have to go and bring that up?”

Levi burrows tighter into your blanket. You wouldn’t be surprised if there’s rips stressed into it by the end of the night. “Just leveling the field. Now everyone in here has hurt them. Balanced team. Every RPG needs a balanced team. All the Seven Lords hurt Henry before they became friends. It’s the way it is.”

Everyone shifts uncomfortably at that. The air around you is suffocating. You suddenly ache to be the one in Levi’s cocoon. Preferably alone. 

“Thank you, Levi,” you grit out frustratedly. “So. Much. Since this conversation is over, I think I’m done with movie night. You all can go back to your rooms.”

Belphie startles. “What did I do? It was Mammon that started this!”

“Belphie.” Beel glances at you, uncertain and guilty in equal measure. You want to hide in your closet to avoid his gaze. “Let’s just go. We can talk about it later.”

Levi slowly extracts himself. He looks at you like he wants to say something, but turns away instead. 

Mammon clenched his fists. “I wanna talk more. Are ya sendin’ me out cause I hurt ya? I didn’t mean to, honest.”

“I know Mammon, and I’m fine,” you sigh. “I’m tired, though. We can talk later.”

Belphie shakes Beel off again. “Sure. We can talk later.” He gives Mammon a nasty smile. “We’re all on the same team, after all.”

Mammon is across the room in the blink of an eye, Belphie’s collar clenched tight in his hand. Belphie rises to the tops of his toes and snatches Mammon’s collar in return. 

“I am not on the same level as you. As any of you. Because I never tried to kill them.”

And there it is. Exactly what you were hoping would never be said. Ever. 

“I never almost killed them. I never actually killed them! You did that!” Mammon yanks at Belphie’s collar. “Ya killed them! And said sorry ‘cause a’ Lilith! Ya didn’t mean it!”

“Yes I did!” Belphie howls. He releases Mammon’s collar to claw uselessly at Mammon’s hands. His horns curl out of his hair and his tail lashes behind him like a provoked cat. “I meant it! I meant it, you selfish bastard! You just wish I didn’t cause you want them all to yourself!”

Beel is shifting from foot to foot, obviously longing to step in or speak up, but does not move. His eyes are locked on Mammon, unsure. He doesn’t seem scared, but he is uncertain. Levi moves between your table and the wall, like the added barrier puts him further away from the situation. 

“Ya didn’t! Ya killed them! Ya killed my best friend! I had ta watch them die!”

Mammon is not in his demon form, despite Bephie’s bared fangs and the flashes of purple singing through the air. He holds Belphie captive like it doesn’t mean anything, like Belphie’s struggles to free himself don’t require the smallest hint of his demonic power. 

“Stop it.” Your fists clench. “I don’t like this.”

Mammon continues to yell, and tears are falling freely down his cheeks. Belphie curses him, screams his name and damns him in every way he seems to know how. 

“Ya don’t know! Ya laughed! Ya laughed when I cried an’ they weren’t breathing! No one cared but me! They were dead an’ no one else cared!”

The shockwaves of Belphie’s power grow more drastic, more erratic.

“You didn’t notice I was gone!” He bellows. “Lucifer kept me in the goddamn attic and you thought I was playing nice with humans! You were supposed to be my big brother! You were supposed to come for me!”

“How could you?” They both wail and wail and wail. 

Why.

Why did you have to break up the fights between beings that are thousands of years older than you? Why did you have to be the one with the level head in a room full of people that could kill you on a whim? In a simple accident? Is it because you dared to care about them? Is it really that bad to care about them? God help you, you care about them so much. 

Shouldn’t this feel vindicative? Shouldn’t you feel better now that the confrontation has happened, feel more seen? Shouldn’t you want your housemates, your friends, to acknowledge you and your past pain? Why did you feel so drained and defeated, then?

Maybe because you were always going to die. 

From the moment you arrived in that throne room with the most powerful demons that gave less than a shit about your continued existence, you were always going to die. Maybe it was not a possibility but a race of circumstances. A race of who would do it first.

Leviathan in the Tales of the Seven Lords trivia competition, the first to charge at you. His scornful gaze as he verbally contemplates the pros and cons of killing you. The force in his eyes as he made you a pawn in a game of revenge against his brother. 

Beelzebub in the kitchen, your room in shambles afterwards. The knowledge that that could have easily been you. His flat, hungry eyes in the student council room, and a few more places beyond that. 

Lucifer in the crypt, bearing down on you with the light of heaven’s finest and looming power of the right hand of the ruler of hell. A hand clamping down on your injured wrist. Lucifer time and time again reminding you of how easily he would kill you if you stepped out of line. Would. Not could. 

Asmodeus’s hypnotic gaze training itself on you dozens of times, certain you will yearn for him, certain you will bow to him. His annoyance when you do not. Cerberus’s breath lashing across your heels as you run, heart plummeting to your stomach. 

Satan’s room, green flames licking at the walls and beginning to scorch your skin. His claws reaching for your throat. 

Mammon. Mammon never… but he did. He left you for dead, time and time again in the beginning. He was told to watch you, to guard you, and he left you in the clutches of demons. Again and again. 

And you were so focused on the contestants in front of you, the ones already at your throat, that you didn’t think to look out for the knife behind you. The hands at your neck, the bind around your trachea, the arms around your chest. The sight of your own body, limp and lifeless. 

Belphegor. 

Where was Lucifer? You reach into the pocket of your pajama pants, scrambling for your D.D.D. 

Your shaking fingers manage to navigate to Lucifer’s contact, and you find you can’t do more than hit the call button. The dial tone is lost in the cacophony of your room, and you find you can no longer see Beel or Levi past how hazy Belphie’s power is making you. 

Your D.D.D falls from your limp fingers, and you find your eyes getting heavy.

Well… well shit.

[lunarharp]

if i just told you i love you would this world change

[bisclavret]

what SICKO wrote the last scenes between gwaine and merlin is what i want to know. because even lancelot's last episode with merlin - which had to have been intentionally gay-coded since it's obvious the man is grappling with his feelings for merlin morphing from platonic to explicitly romantic - is still subtext because he doesn't have the tools to healthily express his feelings so he goes for the biggest romantic gesture he can think of: sacrificing his life to save a loved one. the writers also make sure to root this gesture back to gwen by adding a scene where she's inadvertently asking him to make that sacrifice first, so although it's very obvious that it's more for merlin than for gwen that lancelot dies for, she is there to add some plausible deniability, thus keeping his sexuality within the realms of subtext.

i don't want to delve too deeply into arthur's last scenes with merlin as there is both so much to unpack about what they mean to each other and there is also somehow nothing left to say that hasn't been said before. my point is just that there's so much at stake that if the viewer doesn't want to deal with the romantic subtext between them they can hang onto the 38 other dynamics merlin and arthur have represented to each other that the writers spent 5 years plastering on top of the gay subtext. basically, while the romance feels textual emotionally-speaking, it isn't "canon".

i don't mean to say that any relationship is better than another (even though i obviously have a preference) but that in gwaine's final scenes with merlin there's just no subtext anymore. his becomes the most explicit expression of romantic love towards merlin, and therefore the most explicit acknowledgment of homosexual love and the existence of queer people on the show:

it starts out with merlin suggesting that gwaine saved a girl from the saxons and then looked after her because he has a more than platonic interest in her, and they show us that merlin is right - gwaine and the girl eira slept together - even as gwaine half-heartedly denies any interest (which, why even deny it? merlin saw them holding hands! unless the lie is part of the point). then in that very same scene and directly after this exchange, merlin needs rescuing from the saxons, calls after gwaine, and gwaine performs the exact same role for him that he performed for eira: he saves him from the saxons and looks after him (for as long as merlin lets him).

the parallel between merlin and eira with such quick cause and effect (it literally all happens within the same minute) is where the shift from subtext to text becomes undeniable. yes, there have been other moments on the show where a character's affections towards two different genders are beat-for-beat the same, but, again, there has always been plausible deniability. in this case the parallel is meant to be taken at face value: the core point of it is to show us how gwaine expresses his attraction.

then, the dialogue they chose to bookend this scene with takes it a few steps further by functioning as a textual love confession to merlin himself: the scene opens with gwaine thanking merlin for everything he did for eira, and merlin saying that there is no need to thank him as it was the least he could do. a minute later, after merlin thanks gwaine for protecting him from the saxons as both merlin and the show just concluded gwaine did for eira for romantic reasons (even as he denied it by outright lying), gwaine parrots what merlin said when gwaine thanked him: no need to thank me, merlin, it's the least i could do.

but this comes off as the opposite of dismissive: in fact, this echoing of merlin's words is meant to jolt both merlin and the audience. by saying this right after saving merlin from the saxons, gwaine has now intentionally pointed merlin's attention towards the explicitly romantic parallel between himself and eira. gwaine is directly implying he just did for merlin what merlin correctly deduced he did for a woman because he desired her sexually and romantically, and he is using merlin's own words to challenge him into seeing past the initial flimsy lie that there is nothing between them. and what's behind the lie, of course, is that gwaine has done all of this and more because he desires merlin sexually and romantically. the camera even lingers on merlin, allowing him and the viewer to absorb what just happened. that for as long as we have known gwaine, his motivations have always boiled down to "i want to be there for merlin". and now both the audience and merlin finally know for sure what was motivating him the entire time.

what's more, by using merlin's own dismissive words, gwaine also implicates merlin's penchant for repression and denial and never allowing himself to be given credit where it's due. this unfortunately never properly gets dismantled on the show, but this moment shows that gwaine knows merlin well enough to know that he goes above and beyond for people, and that merlin's reasons for this ring as false to gwaine's ears as gwaine's reasons for saving damsels do to merlin. it also bittersweetly implies that gwaine has accepted that these are the platonic, repressed terms on which he can have a relationship with merlin. but i think the way in which he explicitly points all of this out to merlin is meant to imply that he isn't entirely happy about having to accept that. or, to circle back to eira, that merlin seems to be cheering for him to enter a heterosexual relationship when gwaine would clearly rather be with him.

what's additionally interesting to me about this is that this is one of the only scenes on this show that touch on same gender attraction that isn't using magic as a metaphor - because merlin doesn't have magic at the moment, yes, but also because gwaine is the more active character in this sequence, and he's an adventure hero, so he simply fights the bad guy to protect the person he loves. there is no metaphor to wrap this in, so he just gets to explicitly state his bisexuality. in the next scene, the very last one he and merlin share, it all becomes about magic again, which is both representative of merlin's sexuality and the show's "plausible deniability" approach to gay-coding, and so neither gwaine or merlin are permitted to acknowledge it. also, and this is for another post altogether, but all things point to "gwaine knew". not least because he gets to come out as queer without the complications of the magic-as-gay-metaphor which in turn emboldens him to ask merlin for the truth as directly as the metaphor-suffocated narrative will allow it.

tldr gwaine textually and canonically expresses and then confesses his feelings to merlin in a shockingly well-written and layered scene which makes gwaine the most explicitly queer character on bbc merlin and it's entirely because he exists outside the magic-as-gay-metaphor plot while loving someone who embodies that entire metaphor and it's crazy to me that we don't talk about this more. once again i ask what SICKO wrote this and where were they for the entire rest of this fucking show

tldrtldr at least gwaine is bi. its like i always say. at least gwaine is bi. at the end of the day. gwaine is bi. dont cry ok? gwaine is bi. at the end of the day. gwaine is bi. when all else fails. gwaine is bi. we'll always have. gwaine is bi

[lovelyreprisethirteen]

i kind of think the writers didn’t know how to resolve the five/lila/diego storyline, so they just decided to kill everyone off.

[smoozie]

Scar not saying anything as Pearl sets up a trap in their base. Apologizing as she is chased out. "I can't let you kill my ally". Okay I'm gonna be sick actually.

[knowlesian]

not to project like a motherfucker on natalie berzatto but ohhhh boy the impact of a narrative that says “hey, is your desire to make sure everybody around you is okay also about you? and could that perhaps be partially a maladaptive trauma response you should look into and maybe mitigate? because if it’s a genuine question that’s fine, but if the only answer you will respond well to hearing is yes that’s a You Issue Too, Babe”

[quadrantadvisor]

DP X Dirk Gently

Prompt: Bleeding out in an alleyway

Words: 1,318

On AO3

-

“Do you think this is part of a case?” Dirk shouted.

“What?” Todd shouted back, pushing his legs to just move, keep moving. The sounds of the fucking lasers being shot at them continued, as well as the angry voices of the men in the white suits. The two of them turned a corner, and Todd’s lungs burned as he pushed himself just a little more.

“I said, do you thi— whoa!” Todd cut Dirk off by grabbing his jacket and manhandling him through what looked like the back door of a restaurant, miraculously propped open by a brick. Todd kicked the brick out of the way, making the door click shut.

“I heard what you said,” Todd hissed, trying to keep himself quiet. “First off, why are you asking me? I’m not the holistic detective. Second off, you are the holistic detective! When has anything that ever happened to you not been part of a case?”

Dirk opened his mouth, then seemed to think for a moment. “What exactly are we counting as a case? Because some of my life experiences could be a bit debatable—”

“Hey, you can’t just come in here,” said a man in an apron, entering the room with a full garbage bag in hand. He looked pretty angry, all things considered.

“Sorry, sir,” Todd told him. “We’re leaving, but uh, can we head out a different exit? We would really appreciate it, there were some people chasing us. We’re really not trying to cause trouble-”

“Todd!,” Dirk whispered, hushed and urgent, “They’re right outside.”

“I get it,” the cook was saying, “but you can’t just barge in wherever—”

“—lost track of the subject—” Todd caught from just past the door. Dirk pressed his ear against the crack, listening.

“It’s a safety issue, I don’t know who you are—”

“—failed to tag the suspicious individuals at the scene—”

“Not to mention the health risk, there’s food stored back here—”

“—evidence of overshadowing—”

“Right!” Todd said, once again bodily grabbing his friend. “We’ll get out of your hair, won’t happen again, but we need to go right now.” Todd looked at Dirk, shaking him just a bit in emphasis.

“Yes, we’ll just be on our way,” Dirk agreed. “Sorry about my friend here,” he told the cook, tone conspiratorial. “He can be a bit dense. I’ll keep him out of trouble.” He patted Todd on the shoulder.

“Make sure you do,” the cook agreed. “There’s an employee entrance down the hall this way, I’ll let you out there.

-

“So,” Dirk said, kicking a rock down the street, “another cult, do you think?”

“I dunno,” Todd replied. “Could be, but their outfits looked more like uniforms to me.”

“You’re right, another cult would be a bit dull,” Dirk mused. “But then, shadowy government organizations have been a dime a dozen, haven’t they?”

“You do remember where you left the car, right?” Todd asked.

Dirk scoffed. “Of course I do!”

“Because it feels a little bit like we’re wandering aimlessly.”

“You’re going to feel silly in a moment, because it’s just down this way.”

“You’re sure.”

“Either that, or a clue!”

Todd sighed. Dirk turned into an alley. Todd was following him, but stopped when he stepped in a puddle. A puddle of something bright green, with a trail of it leading right where Dirk was going.

“Uh, Dirk, I don’t think that’s it,” Todd called.

“That’s where you’re wrong!” Dirk called back, tone oddly strangled.

Todd had a minor panic and sped around the corner, nearly crashing into Dirk.

It turned out that Dirk was wrong. They’d found the car and a clue.

If anything with that much blood could be considered a clue.

Tucked up between the car and the alley wall was a body, someone dressed in jeans and a t-shirt with dark hair. Their front was completely soaked in red. Todd swore, did a quick sweep of their surroundings for anything dangerous, then jogged to the figure’s side. Dirk got distracted by the green footprints Todd left.

“No pulse,” Todd said, heart dropping. “And he’s cold.” Of course he was, no one could survive losing that much blood. Closer up, Todd could see that he was just a kid.

Dirk’s head popped up from where he was examining the trails over the asphalt, bright unnatural green that transitioned into red. “So it is a case!”

“Can you have some sensitivity Dirk, what this is is a corpse,” Todd said.

“mmmmmmuh…?” the corpse said.

“AH!” Dirk and Todd both screamed.

Dirk recovered fastest, walking up to nudge Todd where he’d jumped up and away from the body. “A really interesting case!” he enthused. “Now, take off your shirt.”

“What?”

“Our new friend needs immediate first aid, and I don’t want to ruin mine,” Dirk said, pouting a bit as he displayed the Mexican Funeral shirt that Todd had gifted him.

“Fine,” Todd complied, stripping off his layers. “I’m still just freaking out that I never found his pulse,” he added, muffled by a shirt over his face.

“Hi there!” Dirk said to the boy, kneeling down to eye level. “My name’s Dirk, and I’m a detective. This is my friendsistent, Todd. We’re here to help, alright?”

The boy’s eyes cracked open, and one of his hands twitched. A wheeze came through slightly parted lips, before he slumped back down again.

“Here,” Todd said, holding out his shirt.

“What, me?” Dirk asked. “I don’t know any first aid.”

Todd huffed. “Whatever, just-”

“-signature’s getting close,” said a voice from the end of the alley, and Todd shut up quick so he could hear the tromp of polished dress shoes.

“Grab him, get in the car, get in the car, now,” Todd ordered under his breath, and Dirk rushed to comply, forgetting that he was smearing blood all over his precious, precious shirt. He laid out the boy in the back seat, realizing belatedly that there wasn’t any room left for him, and Todd was already starting to peel away. He scrunched down into the foot well, using his body as a brace to keep the kid from rolling. While he was at it, he balled up Todd’s sacrificed shirt and placed it under the kid’s head as a pillow.

The car rocked with an impact, and Dirk looked up to see that the hood was smoking slightly from whatever sort of gun those guys in white were packing. “Oh shit oh shit oh shit,” Todd was chanting as he floored the pedal, picking up as much speed as he could in the limited space and headed straight towards a real human being who was shooting at him.

The man dodged the car at the last second, firing a few more shots into their bumper, but fortunately missing the tire. Dirk craned up to look out the back, catching a glimpse of him speaking into a communicator on his wrist before he was out of sight.

“Why are they after us?” Todd cried out. “What on Earth did we do​?”

“More importantly, we have a boy now—who may in fact be dying, kind of up in the air at this point,” Dirk pointed out.

“We should’ve just left him there, called the cops, something. Now he’s all mixed up in this mess with us.”

“Todd,” Dirk admonished, “he’s already involved.”

“Oh, and you know that, do you?” Todd snarked.

“That is how it works, yes,” Dirk replied, tone a little distant as he looked over their new charge.

“Right,” Todd sighed. “Well, I don’t know how some half dead teenager is possibly connected to those shady dudes in suits, but we’ll figure it out.”

“Of course we will!” Dirk replied.

“’Cause we’re great at it.”

“Oh, undoubtedly,” Dirk confirmed.

“After we buy a first aid kit.”

“Good idea.”

“And call Farah.”

“That too.”

[prncewilhelm]

craaazy that some of you are so determined he stays within the mould when the entire show is chronicling him breaking out of it 

[catofoldstones]

I don’t know when this undercurrent of “it’s Rhaenyra v Aegon” rose and turned into the entitlement of “why is alicent still here weh weh” but it’s scary as hell. We all watched the same first season, right? What’s not clicking?

[flysafepapi]

there's something deeply, deeply hilarious to me about everyone making moves for what comes next, securing a way to consolidate their armies, still trying to convince the few holdouts over to their side before the war and the fighting starts for real, all of that

meanwhile Daemon's over here tripping balls, playing his old-timey Sims build with Simon, just chilling and taking everything Alys gives him to drink like "wow this looks so thirst quenching, what could go wrong?!"

[s0fter-sin]

is there any actual catharsis in the boys or is it all just suffering and scrambling for a crumb of relief

[sammygender]

i do genuinely think s7 is decent but even if it wasn’t it’d be like crack to me considering it’s an entire season essentially centred around sam’s trauma. it’s the closest we ever get to the show properly genuinely acknowledging the things it puts him through. which is ironic considering it’s also before many many other things he goes through!

[shallowseeker]

Re: the latest string of anons, I want to capture this thought before it flees, but it's not wholly formed yet. I'll try to tread carefully, and with gentleness.

Firstly, I want to invite you to grab onto this line from The Rupture:

CAS: "You used to give me the benefit of the doubt. Now, you can barely look at me."

You can take this lovely line and apply it as a challenge to the entirety of season 15, I think.

The thing with season 15 is that it challenges Dean in a way he hasn't quite been before: it's a full-on, nihilistic, Michael-coded existential crisis.

Cas has had psychological breakdowns like this on multiple occasions. So has Sam.

Throughout the series, Dean is wrong a lot, but this time, he's wrong about more things than usual, even when he's (like Cas with Raphael, and like Sam with many villains) still "a little bit right."

Everyone's a little bit wrong, a little bit right, and that's the beauty of it.

But the consequences are unfairly heavier than usual, and that chafes for Dean.

It chafes for his fans, too.

///

In season 15, at first Dean can't even say Jack's name. He sidesteps it, using coded communication, like his reference to "Bel" in 15x09 The Trap. (That's about Jack, y'all. If you tuly think he's talking about Bel in that scene, then you haven't been paying attention to Dean's character's values OR his communication style.)

I think at a lot of its core, Season 15 is asking you what happens when you're not spoon-fed a character's reactions. Do you look at their history and take the least charitable assumption, or do you work from what you know of that character's loves/morals/values and root for them to try and work through it?

Throughout the series, we see Dean cry and apologize more than most characters. For example, we are explicitly shown Dean's regret (on-screen!) for beating Cas in season 10, and so we know he feels guilty. On the flipside, we are NOT explicitly shown Cas's regrets for his beating on Dean in either seasons 5 or season 8.

But we give Cas the benefit of the doubt.

Why?

Well, truthfully, it's because Cas is a character that commands our respect, and this authority/respect extends to giving him dignity in a way some other characters aren't afforded. But mostly, it's because we trust in what we know of Cas. Again, it's those loves/morals/values that inform how we parse Cas's mistakes.

///

So, back to season 15. What are we going to do here?

Sam chooses grace. Will the audience choose it, too?

Crucially, Sam is a character who has had nervous breakdown after nervous breakdown. He sees what is happening with Dean, he understands Chuck's pressures, and he approaches Dean with (imperfect) grace.

So does Cas, for that matter, which makes a great deal of sense here. Cas is the character who has undergone the most severe existential crises regarding Chuck and Heaven. "Getting out of the game doesn't change the game," Cas says. He's grown tremendous, somewhat terrifying resilience as far as this is concerned.

But anyway. Dean's family sees that he's struggling and tries to help him through this because they too have gone through so many complicated meltdowns.

///

I think season 15 is tough, too, because it challenges you not to be spoon-fed all of Dean's grief and reactions.

Think back to Dean breaking down in the forest clearing after Mary died. Do you REALLY think there was none of that for Jack--for Rowena--for Jack's body being eradicated and ruining the hope of getting him back--for Cas leaving--for Amara--for the Jack rib-bomb?

I think to say yes would be dishonest. Personally, I think there's a well-argued case that Dean grieves almost everyone.

///

Season 15 is also tough because it invites to look upon some of Sam's worst moments (*cough* season 8) with renewed grace.

It even challenges you to frame the villains' struggles (John, Lucifer, and whoever the Hell else) in a stronger shade of gray.

///

Anon, I hope you find this soothing somewhat. :-)

Basically, the TLDR; is that we give our loved ones the benefit of the doubt because we've grown to know and trust their hearts over time, even when they're in the wrong.

-love from shal

[m4ndysk4nkovich]

s6 ian is the love of my life y’all just don’t understand him that season but i LOVED him and everytime i watch that season and see him i scream

[fromtheseventhhell]

I'm rewatching the season 8 of GOT, and it's amazing how it gets worse each time each time I notice a new inconsistency. the fact that the prophecy was for nothing, and how with arya killing the night king it made me understand that anyone could kill him, this person just had to have aegon's dagger in their hands like (???)

Why would you do that to yourself?? Forget rewatching, I haven't even watched the final episode (and I never will) 😭

The past few seasons of that show made no sense and I'm tired of people pretending otherwise. It was literally that "anyone could've killed him"; they just shuffled through characters to find one that "felt right" and even considered the Hound or Brienne. The only options should've been Jon or Dany, but Jon would've been "too obvious" (as though being able to tell where the plot is going is a bad thing) and Dany killing the Night King would've been "too heroic" for a character they desperately wanted to demonize. So we were left with...what we got, which really highlights how poorly D&D handled all of these characters. They made Arya's story all about being a fighter, erasing the majority of her development from the books, and then they didn't even make space for her to use those skills. Her face-changing skills never came up after she killed the Freys, she didn't carry out any actual assassinations (they didn't even consider sending her to kill Cersei?), and if they hadn't decided that she would kill the Night King she wouldn't have done anything significant. With the "Ed Sheeran was a surprise for Maisie's last season" thing I doubt they even initially planned for her to survive the entire time, which would've made her story even more pointless. They put no effort into writing her character and just did "whatever was most badass", but I'm supposed to believe that their writing for Arya is anywhere close to what George is writing for her 🥴