Cannot get over how Gibson from Dunkirk (2017) is just so kind. I don't know if it's the right word, but motherfucker really went out of his way more than once to help others, in a way we don't see anyone else do. And maybe it's because of his guilt or whatever, but he's constantly helping Tommy -helping him hide, opening the ship's door, throwing him a rope to stay afloat- even when others aren't doing it, are saving their own skin first -which is understandable, the movie repeatedly shows us the importance of survival and how saving oneself is so crucial-. So you see men on boats shouting to be taken home, you hear people trapped in a sinking ship begging to get out, and yet even when he's in danger himself -Gibson is still trying to help. I don't even know what I'm trying to argue here, but Gibson makes me so fucking sad, and his attempts at surviving, while also taking care of others, is so... yeah.
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One nervous hand pressed against Phillipe’s cheekbone, as if worried that a slight pressure would break him.
Please wake up. Just once. Please just wake up and see me and know I’m here. Know I’m here and I came back.
Nothing. Tommy watched Phillipe’s eyes flicker beneath the almost wine-dark skin of his eyelids, and knew he was not in his mind, and barely in his body.
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the thing i love the most about dunkirk fanfic is that every single one of us made the conscious decision to completely ignore the fact that tommy was just trying to take a shit when he met philippe
poetic cinema
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"AU CONGRES DES AVEUGLES CANADIENS FRANÇAIS," La Presse. July 11, 1933. Page 12.
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Groupe de dignitaires de l'Association canadienne-française des aveugles photographiés, hier, à l'asile Nazareth, où avait lieu le premier grand congrès des aveugles depuis que l'institution est établie dans son nouveau local, chemin de la Reine-Marie, non loin de l'oratoire Saint-Joseph. Ce congrès, qui réunit deux cents anciens élèves, précédé d'une retraite fermée préchée par le R. P. Lucien Teasdale, S.J., s'est terminé par la fondation d'ane amicale. On voit ici, ler rang, de gauche à droite, Mile Albertine Roussel, fondatrice de l'Ecole modèle de musique: M. l'abbé Georges-Henri Dugal, aumônier de l'Association canadienne-française des avengles; M. Joseph Beaubien, maire d'Ou fremont, président général et doyen des anciens élèves: M. Joseph Lamoureux, président; Mile Elisabeth Vallée, 79 ans, doyenne d'age: Mile Margaret McCarthy, 77 ans doyenne des anciennes élèves; en arrière, MM. Philippe Mercier, professeur d'ar cordeurs; Louis-Philippe Lainesse, avocat: Edmond Sabourin, de Mont-Laurier; Wilfrid Brazeau, J.-W. Allard, président du conseil; J.-A. Globensky, trésorier: Etienne Guillet, organiste de Saint-Jean, P.Q. Armand Pellerin, organiste de Sainte-Cécile: Miles Héloise et Basiline Cusson, MM. Hervé Cloutier, organiste du Gesu: Gabriel Cusson, compositeur du nouvel oratorio "Jonathan": Charles Naegelé, courtier en assurance, secrétaire-archiviste: Paul Doyon, organiste à Notre-Dame de Grace. (Cliche In "Presse".)
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collins after an argument with gibson: called a weird french bitch out for being a wee cow on my photo and he's threatened tae come to scotland and beat me up omg je suis shitting my pantalons x
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Yoooo I see Aneurin Barnard is your new profile pic!! I love sm 😍
Heck yeah, anon!!! Aneurin is freaking amazing and I’m a Gibson stan first and a person second!!!
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There were signs, Tommy knows this now. The hastily tied boots next to a dead man's exposed feet, a too-small uniform that barely kept him warm, especially as it shrunk with cold saltwarer, giving him rigid posture and a small but noticeable limp on those last days. The sort of vulpine cunning as he silently directed Tommy to make sure they both looked like soldiers cast off in the first aid ship sunk at the mole, pulling themselves underwater to join the rest of the survivors. Anxious looks that said "if we look the part, we get to go home." Who knows how long he’d been trying to escape this.
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i read all philippe/tommy fics in english on ao3 please provide for me
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Deleting all dating apps I’m going to find love the old fashioned way (I see him burying a dead body on Dunkirk beach)
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