#if you watch that movie

[softquietsteadylove]

For the Firefighter AU:

As a reference to the movie, what if Thena gets struck by a lightning while on track. Gil finds her unconscious and carries her back to safety. When Thena wakes, she says she's fine, she doesn't need his help and tries to leave.

Hugs and much love!! ✨🖤

The first thing she noticed was the smell (not bad at all, just...different). The second thing she noticed was that she wasn't in her sleeping bag, on the ground. She was in a bed.

Thena shot up from lying down, her chest tight, gasping for breath.

"Hey!"

That lone woodsman rose slowly from his chair at the far end of the mostly-one-room cabin. He held out his hands, like he would to approach an injured animal.

She glared at him from the bed--his bed, she assumed. "What the fuck am I doing here?"

"Fair question," he attempted to defuse her temper, not moving closer and still crouched as if she would pounce on him and rip his throat out. "I found you out in the field, Wolf."

She tried to remember what was last in her mind, but it was hazy. She remembered being on patrol. She was around the open field when she saw...something--had gone to investigate.

"We got a distress call," he gestured to the radio on his table by the window. "Some campers panicked when they saw the dry lightning. I'm guessing you were in the area."

Thena groaned, shifting on the bed. Now that it was brought up, her shoulder did have a certain burn and sting to it. "This is why I don't fuckin' rescue people anymore."

"Because you get struck by lightning when you do?"

She glared at him. His name was Gilgamesh, and that was about all she knew about him. He was part of wildfire prevention, but when that wasn't an all-hands-on-deck situation he did regular firefighter shit. She didn't think any of her boys from her old unit knew him either. "Almost--almost struck by lightning. If I had been, I'm pretty sure you'd have carried back my dead body."

He apparently didn't think that was very funny.

"Oh, lighten up, big guy," she rolled her eyes at him, making it known that this was not that big a deal. She scooched back to the edge of his - admittedly comfortable - bed. "It's nothing-"

She fell straight forward.

"Hey!" he was there in a second, catching her in that mile-wide chest of his before she could hit the ground. His hands held her arms, careful of her shoulders and back, "will you take it easy?"

Thena growled, trying to push off of him as he carefully and gently leaned her back up to the bed. "Get off me."

"You need to heal, Thena."

She looked up at him, shocked by the use of her name. She couldn't remember actually ever giving it to him, but they all did daily check-ins on the shortwave; none of them were exactly total strangers.

"I haven't applied any salve yet," he said gently, holding her eyes as he helped her sit comfortably. His eyes dashed down to her shoulder, "I figured you'd wanna do that yourself."

Thena snatched her hand away from him, sending him into the kitchen to leave her to it. She felt around her back carefully, immediately feeling the burn holes in her shirt and the open, aggravated blisters on her back as a result.

He was right, it had been very, very close.

She looked in the direction of the kitchen. The big guy really hadn't applied any treatment to her injured skin, probably having carried her and laid her face down on his bed to keep from agitating it further. Even if he was too precious about it to take her shirt off, he could have even just stuck his hand up the bottom and applied some fucking cream or something.

He came back with a steaming mug of something and some pills. "Take these--just ibuprofen."

She continued to watch him as she accepted the offering. He drifted to the far side of the room again, giving her the space to which she was so accustomed. It was indeed just ibuprofen in her hand, and some soup in the mug. Something to put in her stomach.

"I have clean cloths and towels in the bathroom," he pointed to the door situated between the kitchen and whatever room he didn't have his bed tucked away in. "You can wear one of my shirts, or I can go and find your camp and bring your stuff back for you."

She frowned, "slow down there, buddy. You make it sound like I'm checking in."

Gil held her eyes with a similar stubbornness. He crossed his arms (also massive). "You're not going back out there until you're healed."

"Oh, I'm not?" she snarled at him. He was the one who called her the White Wolf--well, most did, these days. All the more reason for him not to expect her to be cooped up like this.

"Look," he huffed, leaning off the chair and drifting towards the door already. "I'll stay at the station, I'll give you your space. But you need real treatment, Thena. Your back has open wounds on it, I'm not sending you back out into the woods."

She held his eyes. She would love to tell him to fuck right off and storm right out. But it seemed she was neither up to walking by herself, not able to reach the entirety of her wounds, at the moment. He was right; she was in no condition to go back to her base camp and sleep on a potential infection.

He seemed to understand what her silence meant and stepped away from the door, "well?"

She still wasn't sure about waking up in some stranger's bed and making herself right at fucking home. But she supposed she didn't have much of a choice in the matter. At the very least, she would see what tomorrow brought. "You offering to wash my back for me?"

He blushed.

Thena bit back a smile. That was why he hadn't administered first aid to her while she was unconscious? Because he was a sweet little gentleman?

He caught her holding back her amusement and rolled his eyes, "okay, okay."

Thena let out just a little laughter as he drifted to his bathroom and she heard the tap start. "I'll just-"

"The fuck you will."

She tried not to laugh. He was kind of cute when he was cranky.

Gil emerged with a towel thrown over his shoulder. He walked over to the bed, holding out his hand, "come on."

She sighed; she really didn't like having to lean on someone like this. Literally--using his outstretched hand like a fucking cane. "Ugh."

"Yeah, yeah, fuckin' sucks, I get it," he muttered as he helped her drag herself to the bathroom. He had a towel folded on top of the toilet seat, lowering her down to it. "Look, my eyes will be closed the whole time. You direct me as needed, okay?"

Thena looked up at him but his eyes were already fucking closed. She snorted, "y'know, if you're this shy, I'm sure I can mange."

"Just squeeze the fuckin' aloe out, Wolf."

Thena had to admit, at least this was more amusing than trying to treat this herself in her tent back at base camp. She pulled her shirt over her head and unhooked her bra with a grunt. "You sure you don't want a little peek?--for your troubles?"

Poor guy didn't even dignify her teasing with a response.

Didn't have to; his ears were bright pink.

Thena smiled to herself (since his eyes were closed, and all). She accepted his warm, damp cloth first, pressing it to her shoulder, "sorry, I'll give you a break."

He just sighed, moving closer with the disinfectant.

[mahgck]

you have to outlive donald trump

[paintedcrows]

Did anyone tell Ford (bonus doodles: Family Movie Night, 70s Classics)

[stevenrogered]

Dame Maggie Smith as Muriel Donnelly The Second Best Exotic Marigold Hotel (2015)

[inkskinned]

this is just my opinion but i think any good media needs obsession behind it. it needs passion, the kind of passion that's no longer "gentle scented candle" and is now "oh shit the house caught on fire". it needs a creator that's biting the floorboards and gnawing the story off their skin. creators are supposed to be wild animals. they are supposed to want to tell a story with the ferocity of eating a good stone fruit while standing over the sink. the same protective, strange instinct as being 7 and making mud potions in pink teacups: you gotta get weird with it.

good media needs unhinged, googling-at-midnight kind of energy. it needs "what kind of seams are invented on this planet" energy and "im just gonna trust the audience to roll with me about this" energy. it needs one person (at least) screaming into the void with so much drive and energy that it forces the story to be real.

sometimes people are baffled when fanfic has some stunning jaw-dropping tattoo-it-on-you lines. and i'm like - well, i don't go here, but that makes sense to me. of fucking course people who have this amount of passion are going to create something good. they moved from a place of genuine love and enjoyment.

so yeah, duh! saturday cartoons have banger lines. random street art is sometimes the most precious heart-wrenching shit you've ever seen. someone singing on tiktok ends up creating your next favorite song. youtubers are giving us 5 hours of carefully researched content. all of this is the impossible equation to latestage capitalism. like, you can't force something to be good. AI cannot make it good. no amount of focus-group testing or market research. what makes a story worth listening to is that someone cares so much about telling it - through dance, art, music, whatever it takes - that they are just a little unhinged about it.

one time my friend told me he stayed up all night researching how many ways there are to peel an orange. he wrote me a poem that made me cry on public transportation. the love came through it like pith, you know? the words all came apart in my hands. it tasted like breakfast.

[here-there-be-drag0ns]

hey so since we're talking about how awful the minecraft movie looks we're all going to agree not to go see it in theaters right? not even to hatewatch it? we all are in agreement that its a soulless cash grab movie, so we all know that the only way to stop them from making more like it is to give them no cash to grab, right?

yes this includes watching it for the bit. yes this includes bringing your friends to go make fun of it. yes this includes just watching it out of curiosity.

do Not go see this shit in theaters. do Not give them your money. they dont care whether you enjoyed it or not, they only care about what number the box office gives them. so make sure the box office cant give them shit.

[snartles]

From my theatre experience. Every time an animatronic would move/disappear the entire audience would GASP AND SCREAM IN SHOCK

[mellosghosts]

in my heart this joke is in the movie, but unfortunately im afraid only we, hughjackmaniacs, would get it 🥀

[arsenicpanda]

FIVE NIGHTS AT FREDDY'S (2023)

[antlergrave]

ANSWER ME

[the-lonelyshepherd]

my dad turned on a. random movie and he said “you’ll like it” bc there were sharks in the trailer (?) and the whole thing is in french and like sharks are killing people in paris and there were lesbians but then one of them got eaten by sharks???? idfk what’s going on

[livelovecaliforniadreams]

[novelconcepts]

I Saw the TV Glow is such a uniquely, devastatingly queer story. Two queer kids trapped in suburbia. Both of them sensing something isn’t quite right with their lives. Both of them knowing that wrongness could kill them. One of them getting out, trying on new names, new places, new ways of being. Trying to claw her way to fully understanding herself, trying to grasp the true reality of her existence. Succeeding. Going back to help the other, to try so desperately to rescue an old friend, to show the path forward. Being called crazy. Because, to someone who hasn’t gotten out, even trying seems crazy. Feels crazy. Looks, on the surface, like dying.

And to have that other queer kid be so terrified of the internal revolution that is accepting himself that he inadvertently stays buried. Stays in a situation that will suffocate him. Choke the life out of him. Choke the joy out of him. Have him so terrified of possibly being crazy that he, instead, lives with a repression so extreme, it quite literally is killing him. And still, still, he apologizes for it. Apologizes over and over and over, to people who don’t see him. Who never have. Who never will. Because it’s better than being crazy. Because it’s safer than digging his way out. Killing the image everyone sees to rise again as something free and true and authentic. My god. My god, this movie. It shattered me.

[aletterinthenameofsanity]

Y'know, there's this gripe I've had for years that really frustrates me, and it has to do with Love, Simon and people joking about it and calling it too-pg and designed-for-straight-people and all the like. (A similar thing has happened to Heartstopper, but that's another conversation.)

I saw Love, Simon in theaters when it came out my senior year in high school. I saw it three times, once with my friends/parents on opening night, once with my brother over spring break, and once with my grandparents.

On opening night, the air in the room was electric. It was palpable. Half the heads in there were dyed various colors. Queer kids were holding hands. We were all crying and laughing and cheering as a group. My friends grabbed my hands at the part where Simon was outed and didn't let go until his parents were saying that they accepted him. My friend came out to me as non-binary. Another person in our group admitted that she had feelings for girls. It was incredible. I left shaking. This was the first mainstream queer romance movie that had ever been produced by one of the main five studios, and I know that sounds like another "first queer character from Disney" bit but you have to understand that even in 2018 this was groundbreaking. Getting to have a sweet queer rom-com where the main character was told that he got "to breathe now" after coming out meant so much to me and my friends.

But also, from a designed-for-straight-people POV (which, to be frank, it was written by a bisexual author and directed by a gay man, this was not designed for straight audiences), why is it a bad thing that it appealed to the widest possible audience? That it could make my parents and grandparents see things in a new light? My stepdad wasn't at all interested in rom-coms but he saw it with me because it was something I cared about and he hugged me when we came out of the theater. My very Catholic grandparents watched it with me and though my grandpa said he still didn't quite understand the whole 'gay thing,' all he wanted was for me to be happy and to have a happy ending like Simon did. My Nana actually cried when Simon came out and squeeze my hand when his mother told him he could breathe.

And when Martin blackmailed Simon, my mom, badass ally that she is, literally hissed "Dropkick him. Dropkick him in the balls" leading to multiple queer kids in the audience to laugh or smile. Having my parents there- the only parents, by the way, out of my group of queer and questioning friends- made multiple people realize that supportive adults were out there. That parents like those in Love, Simon do exist in real life.

When people complain about Heartstopper not being realistic or Love, Simon being too cutesy, I remember seeing Love, Simon on opening night. I remember my friend coming out and my stepdad hugging me and my mom defending us through this character. I remember the cheers that went through the audience when Bram and Simon kissed and the chatter in the foyer after the movie was over and the way that this movie made me understand that happy endings do exist.

Queer kids need happy endings. Straight people need entry points to becoming allies. Both of these things can come together in beautiful ways. They can find out about more queer culture later, but for now, let them have this. Let them all have a glimpse at a better, happier world. Let them have queer joy.

[pokimoko]

I can't keep being fundamentally changed as a person by animated movies, it's just not sustainable.

[ilovemesomevincentprice]

Vincent Price and Boris Karloff wizard duel to the death

The Raven (1963) dir. Roger Corman