#tragic action movies

[tourmelion]

I'm just living for goncharovs depiction of self destruction and living with and the fall out of such without having the charas be completely unsympathisable, evil, or have flat characters,

Also the mafia life destroying them is so interesting, it brings so much out of the characters

[tamelee]

Sasuke returned to look at the statue for a long time-

[savage-rhi]

Fuschia/Magenta?

[agenttommykinard]

unfortunately Tommy would be a bad spy in Fast and the Furious because he has hair

[grahamcore]

truly don’t understand anyone of the opinion that oppenheimer is u.s. military propaganda the whole fucking point was that the international arms race has had, and will continue to have, dire consequences for humanity… oppenheimer and all the other scientists at los alamos were explicitly shown to be grappling with insurmountable feelings of remorse because of what they had done… i’m sorry where are we seeing war propaganda? just because a movie is ABOUT war does not mean that it PROMOTES war jfc

[corellianhounds]

Amidala the Resilient

Media: Revenge of the Sith

Rating: T

Word Count: 3,942

Warnings: Canon-typical violence, pregnancy, Force-choking, blood and injuries, traumatic labor and delivery, death in childbirth, no happy ending.

Art Credit: Iain McCaig, The Art of Star Wars, Episode III: Revenge of the Sith

Summary: In a universe where Anakin gradually descended into the Dark side of his own volition from the beginning— where his ambition and love were genuine and admirable, but the temptation of power too much— his turn is something much more destructive and purposeful. Amidala’s plan for retaliation is just as much so.

Padmé Amidala can feel tension twinging in her back and thighs. The pit in her stomach has coalesced into a tight knot as she steels herself for what she must do, bringing a mattock and salt to the ground where pruning shears should have been used long ago.

Anakin had been too far gone for a long time, and the fault lay in her and everyone in his life willingly turning a blind eye too often to his myriad of faults. In the past two hours she has seen actions the result of which came from an upbringing where his temper, jealousy, and ambition were allowed to slide because those who thought him destined for some great cosmic good were willing to overlook occasional— and often objectively justified— acts of wrath and ruthlessness. He had always been so good at justifying his reasons and putting his actions in a more favorable light, showing enough willingness for correction over the years people thought he was receptive to guidance and change.

What she’d come to realize with dawning horror was that the seeds of destruction had been sown long ago, and though the vines had borne occasional good fruit, they had always grown with selfish intent, inevitably choking out everything around them in an effort to keep his own desires hidden behind the barrier of thorns.

In the next hour, she will come face to face with the monster of a man he’s become.

The Jedi master doesn’t know. Kenobi knows she has some plan but wrongfully assumes it is to appeal to whatever mistaken shred of humanity might remain in Anakin. Obi-Wan— even now, even after what they saw— cares for him as a brother and would sooner cut off his own hand than see Anakin completely lost to the Dark. Padmé however has finally seen clarity of purpose.

For Anakin to be stopped, he must be killed.

The ship arrives on Mustafar. Padmé wrenches herself away from the viewport as Obi-Wan lands and she gingerly lowers herself to the cargo hold, donning a cloak. Obi-Wan hurriedly finishes the landing cycle, calling her name as she gathers her strength, but she’s hardly listening to him at this point and she knows she must conceal herself from him so he has no chance of stopping her.

A hand on her shoulder makes her flinch, and the Jedi lets go almost in surprise. “Padmé, you don’t have to do this. I will talk to him.”

“No,” she says, keeping her left hand secured across her waist beneath the voluminous sleeve as she cleared a path to the lowering gangway. “He’s made it very clear he’s past the point of reasoning with the Jedi. I will speak with him, and if I cannot convince him to come with us calmly, or I cannot ascertain his next move, I expect you to do what’s necessary to end this treasonous rebellion. That is an order.”

It was all false diplomacy, of course, for his sake. Padmé had no intention of believing Anakin was anywhere close to the realm of negotiation. They were far past that.

But she needed assurance that she could get close enough to Anakin to act decisively. She couldn’t have Kenobi interfering, not at this juncture.

Oppressive heat surrounded her as she swept down the ramp to the barren ground. Magma roiled and churned, flames flickering at the edge of the peninsula as Padmé approached the figure so cloaked in darkness an aura of blackened energy almost seemed to emanate from his form. The grip of the hidden dagger dug into her hand, grounding her as she approached.

Padmé’s eyes burned with a ferocity to match her husband’s. It was time for this to end.

When Obi-Wan had seen her determination in the hold of the ship he had never for a moment anticipated what it would lead to.

Padmé steadily approached Anakin, cloak and hood protecting her from the blaze. He could see her speaking forcefully with him, her face hidden from view but Anakin’s darkening by the moment in response. His right hand, devoid of glove, clenched the hilt of an already ignited saber, the bloodshine blade standing in stark contrast to his own cloak. Its presence alone was alarming, but Obi-Wan had been subject to so many tragedies that night already, he merely assumed Anakin had readied it in the expectation of facing his master.

What Obi-Wan hadn’t known was what Padmé concealed until she tried to close the distance between them, her own blade in hand. What followed happened in the span of a heartbeat.

Anakin’s saber blocked it on instinct, easily halting the approach of Padmé’s dagger, his eyes widening in surprise. In the following moment his left hand raised and with it, so did Padmé.

Obi-Wan’s astonishment lasted only a fraction of a second as he yelled “NO!” Padmé’s feet left the ground as an invisible force clutched her neck in a crushing, intangible grip, and in the breadth of time Padmé scrabbled at her throat, Obi-Wan acted.

Anakin stumbled back from the force of the bolt hitting his shoulder, releasing his hold on Padmé. Padmé crumpled to the ground in a heap, and Anakin’s sights zeroed in on Kenobi, standing at the mouth of the ship with both blaster and lightsaber in hand. Snarling, Anakin stalked towards his old master and brought his lightsaber down, red clashing against blue.

Padmé Amidala, heartbroken and dying, drags herself bleeding to the communication console.

Kenobi can hear her movement in the bay and yells her name, telling her not to move, that he’ll come to help her as soon as the ship breaches the atmosphere, and she stalwartly ignores him, cradling the underside of her belly with one hand and using the other to support herself on the railing around the sparse artillery deck. Her broken ankle protests at every movement, sending lightning arcing up the leg where she puts her unsteady weight. The cramps in her abdomen spread like bone-coral, sharp and hot and agonizing in her pelvis, sides, back— Every tendon and muscle in her body screams at their owner to relent, to succumb to the creeping darkness pressing around her vision, but she cannot allow herself peace until she finishes what she started.

Padmé staggers at the ship’s turbulent acceleration, her forearm slamming out against the bulkhead as the lights flicker, and she curses the unsteady pilot she thought was her friend. Perhaps if she’d been accompanied by someone more decisive, someone whose fatal flaw wasn’t a love too great for a brother that no longer existed, Anakin would have been dealt with and she’d have the wherewithal to fight against the added pain of a labor she was sure would tear her in two.

Sweat pours from her brow and forces her already shaking, slippery hands to scrabble for purchase on the blasted polished finery of a spoiled noble’s ship. Her muscles spasm and she gasps in abject terror as she feels something inside her snap; the membrane within her had ruptured.

Gravity pulls on her bones as her muscles betray her, and she collapses against the bench. Fingernails scrape vinyl and she chokes out a guttural, rending cry of pain in the effort it takes to haul herself upward into the seat.

Obi-Wan is yelling again. Traitorous coward.

Padmé punches in the covert frequency on the transmitter. Her other hand rests on her stomach, her infants moving restlessly under her touch. She forces the hot flashes of pain back, shoving down every instinctive response to curl in on herself.

“Sabé—,” she says into the comm, gritting her teeth and tasting blood once more; the contractions were stronger and with a strangled grunt she yanks the comm closer, ignoring the frantic waves of worry rolling off of the useless Jedi in the pilot’s seat.

“Sabé, if you find the man who was my husband,” she chokes, the creeping black at the edges of her vision beginning to overtake her.

“Kill him.”

Obi-Wan sat listlessly on a bench in the hold, what bloodied clothing he still wore sticking to him like a second skin. His hand rested on the makeshift bassinet, a gun locker repurposed into a cradle.

He could only imagine what directive she’d felt necessary enough to strain herself to get across the sublight waves; he could only imagine because the message was encrypted and the recipient unknown, and her mind had been shielded from his probing. He didn’t know whether to blame his failed use of the Force on the heartbroken, distracted nature of his psyche being pulled in a thousand directions as he’d manually flown from Mustafar’s orbital pull in order to make the jump to lightspeed, or to blame some unknown energy stalwartly blocking him from Padmé’s mind. Reaching out to her had felt like hitting a steel wall.

The tumult of their departure had preoccupied him until he was sure he’d escaped whatever enemy fighters Anakin’s new master had sent after them, the maneuvering less of a dogfight and more of a half-cocked evasive prayer for the hull to remain intact long enough for them to break atmo. Klaxons blared and the astronav’s interface barked orders, warning him of too many systems he already knew were damaged enough that if they took even one more hit to the hull they would be obliterated; shields were failing, exterior panelling being shorn off, the pursuing fighters gaining on them— Until by some stroke of luck he’d found a slip in space to pull through and immediately jump to lightspeed.

Lightspeed jumps themselves were already hazardous to expecting parents’ health. He was terrified of the condition she had been in when he’d finally gotten her onboard, and the fact he could sense her moving with purpose somewhere below decks while he tried to shake the fighters had sent his heart rate skyrocketing.

Piloting had never been his forte. As soon as they’d hit hyperspace he’d slammed a hand against the autopilot controls and bolted from the dash, scrambling down to the hold below.

He swore under his breath, calling her name and skidding to a halt beside her. Her face twisted in agony, her hands clutching the underside of her abdomen. Obi-Wan knelt beside her, hesitant to move her and instead ran a quick check over her vitals, astonished at what he found.

Broken bones in her leg, fractured ribs, internal bleeding, damaged trachea— how had she even moved?! By all rights she should be dead and yet something had propped her up long enough for her to drag herself to the terminal and send a message.

And now she was in labor.

“Kenobi—” she spat derisively, grabbing his tunic. “Get— up—”

“Padmé, hold still, let me—”

He was cut off as a violent shudder wracked her body, her limbs curling in on herself with a gurgling cry. Panicked desperation lanced through him as he reached out and grasped tendrils of the Force, gingerly cradling her neck and attempting to delicately, swiftly mend ligaments he couldn’t see. If he was even a millimeter incorrect, she would die.

A misaligned vertebrae shifted back into place, and Padmé screamed.

Obi-Wan bit back a sob, carefully tracing his fingers on either side of the back of her neck with as much force as he dared in an attempt to still her and provide what pain relief he could as his own energy was leached from him. Padmé gasped, her eyes flying open, her expression stricken as she looked up at the ceiling. Her iron grip loosened as the tension dissipated, if only in one area. She gulped air as if coming up from the bottom of a lake, and Obi-Wan settled as he felt his strength wane. A concrete task was better than guesswork at unknown variables.

The reprieve didn’t last long; Padmé grunted in pain, convulsing as a contraction rippled through her torso again. Further assessment revealed her leggings and the floor beneath her to be drenched, and Obi-Wan’s panic flared again.

“I have to get you up—”

“If you move me I will kill you,” she spat harshly. She trembled despite the ferocity of her glare, her hand still twisted in his robe. “There is no time— Here and now, Kenobi. Make do.”

“Padmé—”

“Look around you,” she seethed. “There’s no level surface in this blasted ship big enough to work. There are no other choices. There is no one else to help. Sleeves up. Now.”

Kenobi’s brow remained twisted as he stripped off his outer tunic, knowing it was laden with silicate and volcanic dust. Padmé propped herself up on her elbows as he raced to scour his hands and forearms, coming back to remove her boots so he could work her outer garments free. Whether the blood seeping between her teeth was due to the injuries she’d sustained or because she was gritting them hard enough one had cracked, he didn’t know.

Padmé gasped again as the fracture in her shin shifted— He wanted to settle her, to fix this, but the contractions were coming more quickly and closer together. They were running out of time.

He finally seated himself before her, kneeling and shaking in just his undershirt and trousers, feeling acutely unprepared for what was to come. Battlefield triage and casualty care were the extent of his healing knowledge, and though he was adept at relieving or numbing acute nociceptive responses, it was usually with soldiers whose minds were open for him to assess areas of injury. A commander with a blaster burn would be focused on the point where his plastoid hadn’t covered. A civilian’s attention after suffering a fall would be turned to the joints and bones that took the brunt of the effects of gravity.

Labor and delivery were far too different from his experience in the medical field.

And Padmé was still blocking him out.

Her knuckles gripped bone-white to a ridge of floor plating, one knee bent and her foot planted flat. The other lay weakly to the side, and Obi-Wan grit his teeth as he raised it up to rest over his thigh despite the lancing pain he felt radiating from her, tucking a blanket beneath her and readying his hands for whatever instruction he prayed she could give. With him gathering his wits and her gathering her strength, they set to work.

The whole ordeal couldn’t have lasted longer than ten minutes, and it was the longest and most arduous process of their lives. Between her strangled cries, his intuition, and the muscle spasms that told him everything about this was wrong, Kenobi’s concern grew with the pool of blood beneath her, and she forced him to focus on the children, refusing to allow him any modicum of time spent healing her injuries between her screams. Untended bone cracked further as she thrashed, her screams echoing back in the cargo hold.

By the time Kenobi had swaddled the two squalling— living!— infants in what sterile dressing he could find from the field kit, Padmé had gone a sickly pale. Her skin was waxy under the recessed halogen lighting, her hair sticking to her forehead. Dark circles rimmed her eyes and different muscle groups continued twitching of their own accord as if sparked by electricity. Obi-Wan was torn between ensuring the infants had been properly cared for, and wanting to drag Padmé to the captain’s berth to fully assess her wounds and heal her: Padmé kept stubbornly shoving him away, tears tracking unnoticed down her face as she continued to choke out instructions for the care and keeping of her children.

He’d finally been forced to stop when that iron grip returned in full force— Padmé grabbed his arm and yanked him down to where she had propped herself up against the wall. Kenobi lurched forward, her ashen face now level with his. She forced her voice to obey despite the strain in her throat, rasping the words she needed to say.

“Keep them away from him.” The venom in her tone was undeniable. “You keep them safe, Kenobi, get— get them as far away as you can—”

Kenobi grunted, refusing to let her continue her orders. He pressed a palm to her chest, willing those wisps of energy to sustain her just a few moments longer as he tried to haul her up into his lap, coax her arm around him so he could lift her— If he could just get her somewhere comfortable, somewhere clean, if he could focus—

Padmé shrieked in pain, clawing at his chest and arms, and the sum of their separate fights came crashing down on him as the Force dissipated from his mind’s grasp. His knees gave out, his strength sapped from the energy he had poured into her, and they lay heavily back against the terminal yet again. The children cried distantly behind them.

“Padmé, please…” Obi-Wan pleaded, tears streaking down his face, but she shook her head yet again.

“Keep them safe,” she coughed, begging for the first time. “Get them away f-from—”

“He’s gone, Padmé, Anakin is gone—”

She shook her head fiercely, squeezing her eyes shut. “No. He’s there. I can feel him.”

“Listen to me— Anakin is dead, I saw him—”

“You’re wrong,” Padmé said. Her breath rattled. Tears dripped from her chin. “If— If you won’t k-kill him then t-take care o-of them. Wh-Whatever it takes.”

Her chest hitched as she gasped around the liquid filling her lungs. Her bloody hand trembled against his neck. She hiccuped, her eyes went glassy, and her hand fell away.

And in the stillness of hyperspace, Padmé Amidala Naberrie passed from one life to the next.

It had been an hour since then. Only an hour since Obi-Wan had had to keep himself from buckling under the weight of his grief, an hour since he’d sobbed on the floor of a ship as one of his oldest and dearest friends died in his arms. The former queen of Naboo, dying in the bloody cargo hold of a stolen ship, her own life stolen from her by the one person the two of them had trusted beyond measure while her infant children cried out for comfort he felt wholly incapable of providing. Obi-Wan wept alongside them, digging his fingers into the cold, unfeeling floor, wanting to scream as the agony of heartbreak threatened to overwhelm him.

So many dead, or lost. There was no solace even in the Force.

But as Obi-Wan Kenobi found himself doing so often in his life, he shoved his feelings down into the furthest recesses of his broken heart, let go of another loved one returned to the Force, and turned himself back to the task at hand.

The infants were asleep now. He’d shakily scrubbed at his face and arms with cold water and spared only enough time under the sanisteam to ensure he was clean enough to handle them before finding a spare undershirt for himself. He fed them, cleaned them up, and held both of them together against his chest as they squirmed, dissatisfied at their situation before accepting their present accommodations and falling asleep. By the ship’s chrono he had roughly two standard hours before the ship was due to drop out of hyperspace.

He sat unseeing in the captain’s berth with the ad hoc bassinet nearby. Padmé was still in the hold; he couldn’t be two places at once, and he couldn’t stay down there with the children.

Something bothered him about the infants in his arms, though. Once the girl had passed from Padmé’s body, it almost seemed like the barrier keeping him from sensing Padmé’s thoughts had broken. He was too drained and scattered to dwell on it as his last moments with her had been focused on her well-being, but despite his utter exhaustion he had a suspicion that had already begun to crystallize under the sheer openness of the twins’ young presences within hyperspace.

It troubled him.

Whatever message she’d sent was evidently received by the people she’d needed it to. Bail Organa met him at the hastily assembled but covert rendezvous, his ensuing shock and horror upon entering the ship’s docking ramp turning to commanding resolve as he followed the trail of destruction to Kenobi’s station. Organa had to shake him from his stupor before Obi-Wan could tell him of Mustafar, of the newly appointed Sith and Padmé’s scheme, and of Padmé’s last words. The senator’s brow furrowed. He knelt next to the Jedi, looking over the sleeping children.

“What of Anakin?”

Obi-Wan shook his head tiredly. “I cannot sense him. I don’t believe Anakin is alive.”

“… Who else did she contact?” Bail asked.

Tears dripped onto Obi-Wan’s shirt. “I don’t know.”

Bail sighed, bringing one hand up to rest on his shoulder. “I am truly sorry, Obi-Wan. For everything.”

Obi-Wan couldn’t respond.

Bail’s team, handpicked and vetted by the senator himself, worked below decks as the men weighed their options. The aftermath of the despotic coup was rippling out and changing by the minute; the Jedi had been slaughtered and scattered, the clones had broken all communication, and the Senate had reached a fever pitch of chaos. Anything that needed to be done had to be done now.

The feeling of loss that bordered on consuming him was one he’d rarely felt in his lifetime as acutely as he did now. The comfort he found in the Force was absent. He’d felt like a ship unmoored when his master was killed. Now it was as though he’d been dropped into the middle of a hurricane.

Bail’s hands were clasped loosely together against his forehead, elbows resting on his knees as he bowed his head in thought. Kenobi could have been a corpse for how still and gaunt he was.

“Obi-Wan…” Bail began. “Are you certain Skywalker is dead?”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan said. “I cannot sense him at all.”

Bail was quiet for a moment before he spoke again. “… But you, of all people, couldn’t sense what must have been growing within him. Is it at all possible the body of Anakin remains, but the reason you cannot find him is because the man we knew is entirely lost to the Dark?”

A chilling fissure of clarity cut through Obi-Wan’s senses. His reaction told Bail everything he needed to know.

Even if it was only a suspicion, they could not afford to waste time figuring out the emperor’s next move. Anything that could be used to motivate Vader had to be hidden from public knowledge. They couldn’t leave a trace of his past behind.

Bail mulled over his thoughts, then stood, gesturing for Kenobi as his resolve hardened to steel. “Come. We have work to do. We will mourn when we are done.”

Sabé trembled with the effort it took to control her breathing. She stowed her bag behind the seat of the starship and brought the engine to life, moving with purpose as tears streamed unbidden down her face.

The ship rose, coordinates locked in place to meet the others of her gathering retinue. These weren’t the orders of former nobility, of a governing senator— This was the last request of a dying friend, someone whose very existence was woven into her bones. Padmé Amidala’s death would not be in vain.

Sabé looked out beyond the stars, her breathing finding stasis despite the ocean of grief beneath it.

“My hands are yours, Padmé,” she said to herself. “For as long duty compels them.”

She wasn’t going to kill Anakin. Not until he felt every bit of the pain and suffering he deserved.

Notes:

The line “clarity of purpose” comes from Saw Gerrera in the Andor TV show

I wrote Sabé’s line before seeing that one similar was used in one of the books. Good to know I was on the right track with a character I know very little about lol

[there-are-many-ways-to-smile]

Instead of Black Adam, you know who actually deserves a live action movie centered around them and actually has a fanbase already Mr. Freeze, I for one never get tired of his story and about how he wants to save his wife. I would have loved to see his origins, him and Nora before she got sick, him creating the suit and his powers. Him trying to save her.

[mykingdomforasong]

People on tiktok love to say shit like "We all know the Kenobi show was deeply flawed" and DO WE ALL KNOW THAT? Where are these flaws??? Show me these massive flaws!!!! Right now! Quickly!! Where are they????? And do it without being racist and/or sexist, I dare you

[randomshenaniganery]

When Marnie was Here threw me for a loop, the first half of the movie I was so astonished that they made a film about a ghost girl being in love with this antisocial girl and I didn’t expect it to be gay so I was trying so hard to hide it from my mom because she’ll start thinking I’m gay again. 

BUT THEN it turned out the ghost was her grandmother and I was like FUCKING bULLSHIT. Like I’m aroace and I really love media showing examples of non romantic love but that was utter fucking bullshit man. I was so ready to support the dead girl and this lonely kind of a butthole artist and in the end they were related. I felt robbed and was in denial until the part where marnie was showing memories where she didn’t interact with the main character whose name i don’t remember. The moment I saw that doll with the MC I was like are they going to make Marnie related to MC? and they fucking did. 

I’ve come to the conclusion that even if they’re related and their love ended up to be maternal affection I still think the mc is gay as hell and marnie is bi  

[museumlover23]

The Amazing Spider-Man 2

“You're wrong about us being on different paths, we're not on different paths. You're my path. And you're always gonna be my path.” - Peter Parker

[black-quadrant]

What do you think of Slumberland, the live action remake of Little Nemo in Slumberland?

I tried!!!! I actually tried!!!! but it's not even close to the story, the movie, or even the game, and i couldn't make it halfway lmao. flip's outfit is really cool, and that's pretty much it but I didn't Want this movie since I first saw it was in production.

[j0lyn3]

.

[jeckilon]

I (usually) respect people’s opinions and all but lol some people really have bad taste. not me tho but y’all stay safe out there

[science-fantasy-superheroes]

Big Brother AU

Inexplicably, I had a dream about Pixar’s Brave and now I have a new OC: Hogus, Merida’s older brother. (Thank my dream for the name.) As much as Merida is like Fergus, Hogus is like Elinor. He and Merida get along pretty well, but their parents are kind of the extremes of each other, so it’s a lot harder to connect with them. But Fergus usually lets Hogus slip out of rough-housing when Merida leaps onto his back with a battle cry. And Elinor lets Merida run off and be rowdy more often when Hogus is there and genuinely enjoying her tapestry lessons. Merida still learns proper etiquette, and Hogus still learns how to use a sword, but it’s a lot more bearable and less tense for everyone. Anyway, directly inspired by what I saw in my dream, I wrote a few scenes from when Hogus is 12 and Merida is 8 (about two years before the triplets are born).

[Content Warning: tween death]

As a battle between the clans rages on, Hogus, Merida, and some other kids come riding on horses to spectate from the top of the hill. Merida and the other kids are ensnared by the sight of valiance, but Hogus better understands the gravity of war and death, and though genuinely curious about the battle, his excitement quickly falls into something only meant to mirror the others’.

In the valley, Fergus rides his own horse, slaying down everyone who comes near him. Someone gets in a lucky hit that sends his sword flying out of his hand. His surrounding enemies think they’ve finally got an advantage on him until that same man is stabbed in the gut by a throwing knife, Fergus now wild with the delight of bloodlust. Still, they’re sure he has to run out of throwing knives eventually and close in on him.

The sword landed halfway down the hill, the hilt sticking up in the air as if to summon someone to pick it up. Hogus knows it’s dangerous, but he can’t let his dad get slaughtered. Before he can convince himself otherwise, he charges forward and grabs the sword.

The kids are shocked and start to move closer themselves, but even they are aware that some people don’t come back from the battlefield, and stop before they get too close to danger.

“Dad!” Hogus calls out, waving the sword in the air to get his attention. “Dad!”

But all Fergus sees is someone running at him with a sword. And with an admittedly expert throw, he stabs his own son in the shoulder.

His arm goes limp and he drops the sword.

“Hogus!” Merida screams, immediately snapping Fergus out of it.

The rest of the warriors back off, knowing not to interfere, and the rest of the battlefield gradually comes to a stop.

“Hogus…”

Hogus meets his dad’s eyes, and breaks into tears. He’s not mad or disappointed, he just wants his dad.

Fergus rushes forward, just in time to catch Hogus as he goes limp.

“Dad… I’m sorry…”

“No, no… I’m sorry…” He finally breaks and cries too. “I’m so sorry…”

Back at the castle, Elinor is startled by the front doors slamming open.

“Fergus! What—?” Her breath catches in her throat at the sight of her son. “Hogus…” her eyes fill with tears. She can only watch as he runs past her, yelling for a doctor.

“Mama!” Merida clings to her dress.

“Merida…” She picks her up and hugs her. “What happened? How did…? None of you kids ran into the battlefield, did you?” She wasn’t trying to be accusatory, but she needed to know what happened.

“Only Hogus! But he was just trying to give Dad his sword! And…” She sniffs as more tears start to fall again. “And Dad was throwing knives at his enemies… But then he missed…” She can’t continue and sobs into Elinor’s neck.

She just holds her closer as the horror of what really happened dawns on her and she cries harder too.

Several hours later, Merida nervously waits outside a room.

“Hey, Merida,” her dad finally pokes his head out. He’s exhausted, but smiling. “You can come in now.”

His smile makes her hopeful, so she runs in. “Hogus?” she calls out.

“Hi, Merida,” he waves, smile bright as ever.

“Hogus!” she jumps onto the bed to tightly hug him.

“Ow!” he winces, and Elinor pulls her into her lap.

“Careful,” she gently scolds. “He’s still healing; his shoulder’s a bit sensitive.”

“Oh! Sorry…” she sheepishly apologizes.

“It’s okay,” he smiles. “I’m happy to see you too,” he opens up his good arm.

She beams and carefully crawls around to his other side to hug him.

Days pass, and Hogus hasn’t gotten any better. He’s only gotten much worse.

“Mum…” his voice is weak as he struggles to breathe and his eyes are watery. “I… I think…”

“No… No…” she gently runs a hand through his hair, not able to handle hearing what she already knows.

“… Can Dad come see me now?”

She brushes her thumb over his cheek, “Running the kingdom is not more important than you.”

“It kind of is…”

Her hand falls to his good shoulder. “Not this time.”

She looks to Maudie, who dutifully nods as soon as they make eye contact, then exits the room.

“… I’m sorry to leave you guys like this… I don’t know why the will-o’-the-wisps decided this–” he gestures to his shoulder– “for me, but… I don’t regret saving Dad. I just… I wish he didn’t have to feel guilty about it.”

“He’ll be okay.” She squeezes his hand. “I promise.”

“And you, too?”

“…” She glances at Merida sleeping next to him. “We’ll all be okay.”

Just then, Fergus runs in, a bit out of breath. He relaxes at the sight of his son alive and awake, but the panic in his face, the fear, thinking that he was too late…

Elinor can’t take it anymore and lets her emotions spill down her cheeks.

It makes Hogus lose control, and then Fergus can’t hold himself together either and lifts his family into his arms, waking Merida up.

“Hm… Hogus?” she murmurs blearily. She sees the tear streaks on his face and jolts up, looking around at her parents. “Why’s everyone crying? You’re going to be okay, right? You just got sick like when I did! You’re just going to cough for a bit and then you’ll be okay! You’re not…!” She gives up trying to convince herself, and Hogus hugs her as best he can.

Fergus cries all the more. “I’m so, so sorry…”

“It wasn’t your fault; you’re a really good warrior.” He looks up at him. “And a good dad.”

Fergus holds them as close as he can. “I love you, Hogus. I love you so much…”

“I love you too, Dad…”

After a moment, he feels his lung shut down.

“Mum… Merida… I love you, too…”

Merida can only bury herself in her brother’s chest, but Elinor speaks for both of them.

“Oh, my darling, we love you too… We love you, too…”

He squeezes his mom’s hand, presses close to his dad, and hugs Merida tight as best he can. His clothes end up bunched in Merida’s fists, and his parents bury their faces in his hair. They stay together– they stay with him– even after he takes his last breath.

Their grieving period is long– it doesn’t feel long enough– but Fergus finally finds the strength to summon the clan leaders. The meeting is a somber occasion, out of respect. Elinor is present, with Merida nestled in her arms.

“The warring has to stop or our children will be fighting next. And they—” his voice breaks, and he glances at Merida watching him while her head rests on her mom. “They don’t deserve to deal with our issues… So, men, what are your terms of peace?”

[transxfiles]

lost phineas and ferb episode where perry is called to investigate what dr doofenshmirtz is up to because carl the intern got ahold of some intel that doof has been seen speaking to lawyers and looking up the endangered species act at internet cafes and as major monogram says, "something fishy is going on"

meanwhile phineas and ferb's subplot of "i know what we're gonna do today!" is that isabella needs her environmentalist fireside girls badge so they start researching which species are in urgent need of help in the tri-state area so that they can use new cloning and gene therapy technologies to bring at-risk animals back from extinction

(yes there is a c-plot where buford and baljeet argue the ethics of this idea, i don't have time to explain it all for you rn)

we cut back to🎵doofenshmirtz evil incorporated🎵where we see perry carefully maneuvering around doofenshmirtz's lab scared he might fall into a trap but he hasn't set off a single booby trap and it's clear something is off

he runs into doofenshmirtz and goes to kick him in the gut action movie style but doof steps back one overly confident and says, "nuh uh uh, you see perry the platypus, you are TRAPPED! by the danville section of the endangered species act of 1973!"

doof goes on to explain his tragic backstory: "you see, perry the platypus, when i was a child my parents did not show up for my own birth! but you know that already, yadda yadda yadda they did not love me and then they loved roger more, ANYways i was raised by ocelots! i had a lovely foster mother who took me in and made me one of the pride, and so you see, perry the platypus, i am still legally considered an ocelot. did you know that there are only 50 recorded ocelots still alive in the continental united states? very sad for me as a member of a near-extinct species. it would be immoral for you to hurt someone critically endangered... in fact, you have made many attempts on my life this summer"

[montage of doof's security camera footage of their battles]

"which is why i have decided to bring you... TO COURT!" we cut back to phineas and ferb's back yard where they've decided to start cloning ocelots in their kiddie pool

candace storms outside enraged and says, "phineas and ferb are you cloning ocelots in my duckie momo kiddie pool!?"

ferb's one line of the episode is "well, i guess it's more of a kitty pool, now"

candace storms away saying, "i'm going to tell mom!" and isabella turns to phineas and says, "oh, does your mom have experience in wildlife conservation?"

we cut back to the doof and perry plotline where the two are now in the danville hall of justice and we learn that doof has spent his monthly alimony check on a defense lawyer and perry turns and sees the lawyer and then vanessa helping her organize her briefcase and perry chitters at her and vanessa shrugs and says, "i'm thinking about going into legal defense. sorry perry."

the rest of the doof and perry b-plot is spent in court and perry is about to ask for a public defense lawyer when carl runs into the room and explains that he's owca's official legal defense and perry looks at him like, "uhhh is that even allowed?"

it doesn't matter because apparently the judge is out sick today but because it's danville roger's the judge now because he's the mayor and everyone loves him.

the court case continues.

meanwhile phineas and ferb have successfully cloned multiple ocelots from the original ocelot dna they had on hand and isabella asks phineas if these clones will experience health problems like premature aging, phineas casually explains that ferb figured out the problem while they were experimenting with stem cell harvesting.

back in the courtroom, doof's ocelot foster mother has been brought to the stand along with an ocelot to english translator. doof gets emotional seeing her after so long. she says that he was one of her favorite child and he was as strong a hunter as anyone else in the family. it's incredibly sweet. the jury's in tears.

meanwhile, isabella has established connections with a group in texas who are going to release the ocelots back into their natural habitat and, using the cloned ocelots to prevent inbreeding, help establish an ocelot breeding program. the group explains that they are going to send a helicopter to retrieve the cloned ocelots from danville and bring them to texas soon.

isabella gets her fireside girls badge.

candace manages to get mom to see the backyard only after the ocelots have been helicoptered off to coastal texas, their primary habitat.

mom makes it into the backyard as phineas stares wistfully over the fence and says, "if you love something, you have to let it go." candace goes, "look mom look look look!" and points at the ducky momo kiddie pool, devoid of cloned ocelots, where baljeet and buford are now chilling out, having settled their philosophical debate about the ethics of animal cloning.

back in the courtroom drama, doof looks like he's about to win when an attendant walks into the courtroom and whispers something in roger's ear.

roger looks up, grinning, and says, "good news, everyone! my attendant here has just enlightened me that ocelots are no longer considered critically endangered!"

this settles the case, with perry being decreed not guilty and the entire affair being called off. the courtroom cheers, roger walks over to doof and personally congratulates him on his species' return from the brink of extinction.

doof shouts, "curse you endangered species classification system!" at the ceiling of the danville hall of justice.

perry arrives back home just in time for mom to say, "who wants pie?"

the end.

[ophelialoveshandsomemen]

Say what you will about Van Helsing 2004; hate it, love it, be indifferent, But the All-Hallow's masquerade ball went sooooo hard and it had zero right to do so! It's a fun, campy, monster mash movie with wonderfully dated ( and expensive) cgi and non-stop action meant to be a popcorn flick one takes out to watch around spooky season. And it has this* chef's kiss* GORGEOUS 6 minute sequence plopped arbitrarily in the second act, which unexpectedly surpasses nearly every other ball in the last 30+ years of film( notable exception being the Cinderella 2015 ball) for literally no reason other than to be dramatic af.

Like feast your eyes on this Gothic masterpiece!!! Who doesn't want to immediately live in this picture?!??

They used those candles with oil in them so that they would have real candles, real string orchestra( I believe), probably around 100 real life extras( something which is tragically absent in modern film), said extras are all in beautiful fully decked-out costumes( which are in luxuriously dark colours, but nearly no fully black, another thing you cannot say for much modern cinema), REAL CIRQUE DU SOLEIL PERFORMERS for all the acrobatics!!!! Hell, instead of filming in a sound stage, where they could control the reverb and the acoustics and the size of the set and the bloody lighting ( they apparently had a heck of a time emulating the firelight for this sequence) and the temperature( it's very cold in stone churches!) better, they filmed in a Baroque church in Prague! As I said, peak dramatic splendour, jfc...

Think about that a second...They filmed a vampire masquerade in a Baroque Catholic Church( St. Nicholas' in Lesser Town, if you were curious) with amazing over-the-top acoustics and marble statues and real, tiled floors and marble pillars and a choir loft which they very much utilized, covered the pipe organ and the altar with a grand brocade curtain so it wouldn't be so obviously a, you know, a church! And there's a gold gilt elevated and canopied pulpit into which they put two vampire kiddies for, again, the sake of being dramatic.

And the costumes! They remind me of the 25th anniversary Phantom of the Opera Masquerade costumes. Same quality, like they're old, well-cared-for costumes pulled out of a warehouse, instead of fast industry churn-outs. With lots of trim and colour and masks and lace and feathers and..just...ugh.. they are all perfect! Just look at all the head pieces on the ladies and the hats on all the gentleman ( save Dracula of course) and the powdered wigs on the musicians. ANNNNDD! The dresses are historically correct!!!!!! It's the 80's bustle era! Nobody does the 80's bustle era in film anymore and it's a bummer. Oh and one other thing! Anna's ( and other women's) hair, at least here in the ball, is also historically accurate because it's all pinned up! None of those fucken modern beachwaves at a ball! Everybody's got updo's!

Gah, I swear, Dracula in his gold cloak really does things to me in this scene!

By the way, the acrobatics are bonkers in here for just background stuff!! Especially the random guys on unicycles and the dude playing the violin whilst standing on a ball...Like....WHAT?

Anyways, all this to say, that this masquerade ball feels sooo real and tangible and because of that it blows every other film out of the water, and no, I will not change my mind!!!!!

Here's a few more gifs, bcuz, why the hell not, this scene is sexy as fuu*ck?

Alright I need to go to bed now.