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wizkiddx · 3 years

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stop caring

yooo, so this is actually taken out of one of the sort of I guess series-esque things I’ve written, but it kinda just got shit at the end so I've given up and just wanted to post this instead. So sorry if some of the backstory isn't that clear or anything

tomhollandxfamous!reader

Summary: after your break up you bump into tom at a charity event and when shit hits the fan personally for you, someone who understands you is really what you need (angsty!!! maybe a bit of fluff too?)

TW: panic/anxiety attacks + mentions of assault

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3 months. 3 months you’d managed to avoid the boy that had given you the most joy in the previous years. 3 months without your best friend; of even when you’re with company feeling like a part of you was just absent.

And you had been thriving. Well… that’s what everyone thought. That’s what you tried to portray, because no matter how ‘famous’ or ‘successful’ people perceived you to be - ultimately you were like anyone else. Making your insta pop off after the breakup. And so to the outside world, through the very very small lense of social media life was great. Parties, friends, work.

You were a woman in demand - in all senses of the word.

But of course, as is the 21st century world, it was a lie. Instagram showed only snapshots of what can be very long 24 hours in a day. Naturally, a select few obviously knew - your best friend, Y/f/n being one of them. Yet still you were missing that one support, that one person who would drag you back to reality whenever you got too much into your own head. It actually rather annoyed you, how dependent you had got on him, in every part of your life.

And you really hadn’t expected to see him here today. You’d had your assistant check the guest list, he wasn’t on it. While getting ready, you had avoided all the products that reminded you of him; that soft nude lipstick he loved you in so much; your favourite (exfavourite) earrings. Had you known it, you would have worn these. Just because you knew it would get on his nerves a little bit. Nevertheless here you were, perhaps a little underdressed for the charity dinner in a dress you’d already worn before (because apparently that was a sin in the world of Hollywood). You couldn’t pin point from when, but it was simple yet elegant if you did say so yourself. A dark blue satin dress, that sat off your shoulders in a Bardot style; hugged your waist to accentuate your curves; then flowed outwards down to the floor with a slit up your right leg. It was simple compared to the sequin studded, diamanté jewelled dresses the rest of the women seemed to sport but it made you feel comfortable.

Besides, that’s what you needed today. This was the first time after the breakup you’d attended a public event without your best friend-turned-assistant-turned-absolute-life-saver. Y/f/n had been the greatest with you all through your life but especially recently, she deserved the break to go back home and see her family. It was a pretty decent excuse too, her cousins wedding, so you were in absolutely no place to complain.

Evidently it just HAD to be this event then, while you were flying solo, that you’d be faced with…well with his face. His fucking gorgeous, perfect and oh so sweet face.

Just seeing him, just seeing Tom fucking Holland, had the most intense burst of adrenaline course through your veins as you desperately scanned the rest of the room. Looking for an out, an excuse, someone to latch onto for the rest of the night. A distraction even.

Never one to admit it openly, but really you knew your coping mechanism of the past months had been to sleep with who you wanted. Because the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else right? You knew it was stupid too. Not because of slut shaming or anything ( we aint got no outdated views here), but simply it wasn’t you. It wasn’t a good idea for you. It didn’t fit.

Tom hadn’t seen you yet, so if you latched onto someone you’d likely be in the clear. So obviously, when your frantic glances landed upon Joe Keery, you literally sighed in relief. Joe was great, stranger things was a bit of a guilty pleasure for you - especially when you were in your trailer and bored. Just due to your line of work, you’d met a couple times, he seemed like decent crack and to you knowledge was single.

Unsurprisingly then, you almost marched over to Joe, ignoring the slightly shaky feeling in your leg as your hearing seemed to focus completely on the sound of Tom’s bright laugh.

It was your choice too. You’d chosen to end things. It was on you. Well really, both parties were equally guilty. Tom was the one who had been too tired and highly strung and exhausted to put effort into the relationship. Stupidly though, you were too in love to realise for so long, in doing so draining yourself in the process. The constant flying cross country to see him, when he couldn’t ever return the favour because he was too busy. It was chipping away at you, even if you didn’t notice. It took an intervention by your manager Davey and Y/f/n for you to see things for what they were. To see that Tom didn’t care as much as he used to.

He tried to fight for it, of course Tom did, because he also truly and deeply loved you. Nonetheless though, it was too late. And that was it. You closed that book and returned it to the library. Something your mind occasionally drifts back to and you think ‘huh that was a good read’ - yet that is the only space it occupies in your mind.

OR that’s how it should be. Not you yesterday, comparing everything your date did to Tom and deciding everything was worse. Not you today, seeing him and nearly being floored by the way the suit was tailored to his body oh so exquisitely. Not you now, hearing his bubbly laughter and having to fight your muscles from taking you back into his arms.

In short, you were highly strung and pining over a boy you’d killed your chance of happiness with.

Not to blow your own horn, you knew Joe wouldn’t be against having your company for the evening. After all, you were a young, beautiful and upcoming actor. You were ,at the very least, self aware. And so for a good few hours you almost forgot about Toms presence, spending the time before the speeches sharing a ridiculously overpriced bottle of wine (or two) with him. He was funny. He made you laugh, even if he was pushing the limits occasionally and teetering just on the right side of socially acceptable. It was risky and in that moment, with the alcohol in your system, it made him seem more and more of an attractive shag.

By the time the speeches started you were both overly giggly and had to keep shushing each other as the presenter called for quiet. Inherently, you knew exactly the location of Thomas - who he was sat around; the main he’d had at dinner; the brand of beer he’d been ordering.But that was subconscious. You were here with Joe.

Under your voices, whilst getting some disapproving looks from the older, more mature, members of your table you and Joe sat through the first boring speech whispering jokes under your breath - making each other clamp their mouth shut to avoid bursting out laughing. Though tipsy, you were very aware of Joe inching closer and closer, while his hand was casually brushing yours or your shoulder or waist more often. You knew this was low, being so blatant in front of Tom. To be quite frank though, should you care? And did he care?

The answer in your head at least, was an almost certain no to both.

One speech merged into another spent giggling away until Joe did something he didn’t mean. Heck he didn’t even know. His jesting quickly had toppled completely over into absolutely not category. Your brain felt like it was swimming as the name you’d avoided after that incident , almost ten years ago. The flashbacks came thick and fast. You an innocent young actor wanting to make a way in the industry. And him. A powerful, ridiculously important slightly overweight 50 year old with bad breath. That room in the corner of his hotel that you were completely lost in.

You were going to be sick.

Somewhere, distantly, you heard Joe saying something… asking you? Asking you if your were good? It was drowned out by a roar in your ears, you jerkily nodded your head. You knew your breathing was jilted, shaky and shallow. You knew your heart was exploding. It actually felt like a heart attack, the way it seemed to be beating as though it were going to break out of your chest. This time you really really needed an out.

So without any words, leaving a bemused Joe, your chair screeched on the floor as you stood up, garnering the attention of the whole room. The heads literally swivelled to stare at you, judgement clearly there as you frantically half ran to the back of the room, pleading if your head fro the toilet to be nearby. You needed to be away from everyone and safe.

Thankfully your escaped the room and the beady eyes, locating the bathroom where you threw a cubicle open, shakily locking it before collapsing into the wall in floods of tears, harsh sobs racking your frame as you clutched your hands to your knees and rocked slightly back and fourth. You dress being a full length ballgown was spilling out into the the nearby cubicles and under the door, but presumably you were alone in the loo - not hearing any other signs of life beyond your own sobs.

This always happened when you had your anxiety attacks. It was like clockwork. Zone out, stop hearing, loose control of breathing, heart starts pounding, make a quick escape to a toilet, cry and then…

Well back before Tom, it had been to throw up. That was the only thing you’d ever found to ground you enough to get your body backorder your own conscious control. It was like a wave of relief after, like the drowning feeling in your lungs had just evaporated away. But the Tom happened. The first time he’d seen you panic he hadn’t a clue what to do either. SO he had just sat with you, not wanting you to be alone in that state and waited. That panic though, had lasted so long that you’d almost made yourself pass out from the hyperventilating. When that had happened, Tom had gone into emergency mode. He had been scared to touch you, in case that made you worse, but when he saw your body going limp he didn’t have a choice. He’d collected you into his arms, with your head against his chest. Being this close to calling an ambulance, the relief Tom felt when your breathing got more and more regular was unparalleled.

Together, when he had you lying in his bed (recovered, if mortified and exhausted) was when you realised that you hadn’t been sick. And that was because of him. You’d grounded yourself on his heartbeat and breathing, listening to it and making yours sync up. Thats what had saved you that evening.

Now however, Tom was gone. This was the first panic attack you’d had since he’d been gone. Of course while you were together you were rarely in the same place, even so you’d phone him. But not now.

This all led to you sat clutching your knees as your mascara dripped down your cheeks as you had to fight to get enough oxygen into your body. You didn’t want to get into that vicious cycle of making yourself ill again. It really hadn’t been healthy.

Who knows how long you were sat there sobbing before you heard the door open and in response you clamped a hand to your mouth trying to stay silent. This irrational fear overcame you as you sat stock still, fearing the footsteps on the marble floor of the fancy function venue. Even the toilets were pretty posh.

“Y/n?…. It’s-it’s Tom.” Oh. My. Fucking. God. That was all that was going through your brain as you bit you lip - presumably painfully, yet you didn’t really feel pain in your current state. “Look I saw you leave and I know your on your own tonight… I-I couldn’t leave you on your own if your… well you know.” Everything was going so so fast in your brain, that it actually scared you into stopping crying, so much so you felt your hand flop back down to your side. “…I was waiting outside because I didn’t want to errr you know… but you’ve been 20 minutes so I need to know your good…..okay?”

The boy was too fucking good. And stubborn… he was too stubborn and you knew he wasn’t going to give in. It was also fairly evident that he knew you in here - there was no pretending you didn’t exist.

“Y/n? Come on you gotta let me know.”

“I’m fine. You-you go.” Only when you spoke was it evident to yourself just how not-okay you really were. Tom just chuckled and spoke again.

“How long have you known me for? That’s just not going to happen is it.” You already knew this, but something about the way he said it made you realise a sad laugh, momentarily making you feel a bit more in control. He seemed to like that response, you heard him bend down and then saw the bottom of his tux as he sat down leaning against your cubicle door.

“Is …is this your first one… since? You both know what he was talking about. Since you broke up.

“Uhmm I-“ You swallowed down a fresh rise of nausea, somewhat determined to not throw up when you ex is barely a metre from you. “Yeh I suppose.” In didn’t seem a revelation to Tom, yet he still hummed lowly in response as the room drifted back to silence.

“You… you wanna try to breath with me?… You don’t have to open the door just…”

Croaking a please in response because this feeling was really blood awful and you wanted it to end, Tom started exaggerating his breathes, as you shakily and eventually managed to start to time it with his. Without thinking, when Tom’s palm snuck half under the door you immediately grabbed and squeezed it - the contact helping to synchronise your body with his.

It should be an alien feeling after your time apart. But no it felt oh so natural and so very right.

Once you’d collected yourself and realised how bloody stupid this whole situation was you withdrew your hand back, loosing the warmth as you shook your head in disapproval of yourself. So very fucking stupid. He was silent for a bit, letting you think things through whilst still sat outside your cubicle.

“You good now?” You hummed in agreement and you felt Tom’s head fall against the door, looking up to the ceiling. “Want me to go?”

“If you want to” That was met with silence, but a very telling lack of movement that spoke a thousand words.

“You should get out of here… you wanna avoid the trigger again and I mean I know you’re exhausted.” The boy had researched panic disorder and attacks when he found out you suffered with it - he probably knew more of the psychology of it than you, whilst never having any first hand experience of it. Annoyingly he was right, as per, after attacks you always always slept for hours - it was just a draining process. “I’ll get you a car if you want?…. I’d like to make sure you get back okay if you don’t mind.” With only your cold and empty residual feeling left, his words still managed to ignite a spark of warmth in your chest.

“I’m not going to ruin your evening Tom.” You tried to refuse even if it was very very forced and very very hopeful he wouldn’t give in.

“I was having a crappy evening. Sitting in the ladies toilet talking to my ex through a toilet door has actually been the highlight.”He chuckled playfully in a self pitying way, somehow again making you giggle. And so he had you standing on slightly unsteady feet, your black heels held in one hand because no wasn’t the time to put yourself through teetering around on pin needles. The shuffling outside the door meant Tom stood up too - before you unlocked the door and opened it.

Prior to seeing Tom your eyes locked on the sight of your reflection, in the mirrors above the sinks opposite you. Perhaps the only way to describe it… it was a sight. The shock being in the juxtaposition between the elegant dress, which even having been crumpled on a bathroom floor had somehow managed to survive and still look near the off-the-hanger; but your face? Oh that was a shit show. You’d cried your makeup off almost completely, leaving your face blotchy and shining as well as the ever so telling smudged mascara under your bottom lash line.

You had to laugh or you’d just start to cry.

“Don’t worry I’ve seen you much worse.” You saw in the reflection as Tom leaned in and whispered in your ear, making your eyes roll and head shake as you looked from him back to you.

“I look like a paps dream.” Without instruction, Tom bolted into a nearby cubicle, wrapping layers of toilet roll round his hand before offering it to you as a makeshift wipe.

“This is the glamour of Hollywood don’t you know? Wiping your face with bog roll”Thankfully taking it, you offered Tom a thankful smile as he stepped back, giving you space as he leant against another cubicle pillar. Once you finished up blotting your face, Tom had already shrugged off his jacket walking toward you as he offered it out. Tilting your head to the side in a questioning manner Tom just shrugged, saying it’d help avoid the paparazzi just in case. In reality you weren’t so sure, but anyhow you still appreciated the gesture and draped it round your shoulders with a muttering of thanks.

At this point his phone pinged, the car was outside, so without any words exchanged he led you to the door, checked the hallway was clearly before guided you back to the exit. There didn’t appear to be anybody lurking around, which you were oh so thankful for as you almost threw yourself in to the safety of the blacked out car. Tom followed and you both, almost comically as if scripted, released a sigh in unison as you melted into the seats. That had you chuckling dryly as you sat in silence.

“You know we can’t move till you say where you’re staying?” Teasing you, Tom shot you that ever mischievous grin that made the blood rush through your skin. After you’d told the driver, the car pulled swiftly out the laibi.

“Did he…did he say something?” Tom’s demeanour had steeled up and you looked questioningly up at him. “Joe… you looked…close.”

“Oh”. You were taken aback. You should have seen this coming to be fair, him asking for the trigger this evening - and yet you were more shocked at his jealousy. How he looked pained to mention Joe by name. “Um no… well sort of…it was a joke. He didn’t mean it but it er…it took me back.” Tom knew your history, he knew what happened all those years ago and he nodded slowly , keeping his eyeline straight ahead.

“He’s a dick.”

“No he’s not…. He- he was sweet enough . It was all me.”

“What?”

“I pushed myself on him. I-I saw you… I was spooked.” Tom left it to drift back to silence. He had a lot of thinking to do too.

He’d obviously kept up to date with you. Call it a professional interest. That was the problem being in love with someone when you weren’t allowed to be. But it hurt like hell, especially when he heard what you were doing. Because he knew this wasn’t you. He knew you sleeping around wasn’t going to help you recover - in fact he thought (and quite correctly) it was the opposite. That long term it’d only cause you more and more pain.

“You know, you don’t have to do this?… I-I know it isn’t you. I’m not insulting or anything I’m… I’m just worried.” You knew he was being truthful . And infuriatingly he was right. Which only made it even more annoying.

“Why do you care though?” Looking out the window that was all you could think to say. That was your subconscious talking as you didn’t really want the answer. Or you desperately did but you knew it’d be hard to get over.

“Y/n” He sighed, making you look across at him “I’ve not stopped caring… I’ll never stop caring.”

Wasn’t that just a knife to the heart. You held your breath momentarily, not knowing what to think (nervermind say) in response to that. Everything in that car seemed to freeze, Tom’s eyes piercing the deepest and darkest parts of your mind as he stared at you. You both really weren’t over it. You were both hurting. You missed each other.

And you were about to dive in all over again.

But then the indicator ticked on. The car pulled to a stop. The ignition switched off by the driver. You were at your hotel. The journeys end - quite literally.

Tom felt it too. He knew if ever there was a chance, however rogue and unlikely, of you two working things out it was within this journey. And he’d failed.

“I-uh…I-this is me” Stammering through, distracted by the way Tom’s eyes shone with disappointment.

‘Yeh - yeh it is I guess.”

“Well er… thanks for, well you know… for saving me. You er-you really didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to”

“Yeh well er thanks…. And er-Oh! Your jacket” You realised, already tugging the tailored suit jacket from your shoulders.

“No no it’s really okay. I have loads anyway.” See?In Hollywood you really weren’t allowed to wear the same thing twice.

“Oh-okay. Well er….I’ll see you around I guess?”

“Can I walk you to your room, just to-check no one bothers you?” Tom was trying. Desperately trying. He could feel you slipping through his fingers again, this time he wanted to put up more of a fight. You shook your head thought, a sad smile gracing your lips.

“I’d say yes but I think I know where that’d end up…. And I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Defeatedly nodding, Tom just smiled in a tight-lipped fashion, equally as sadly at you.

“I’ll errr I’ll see you around.” While gathering yourself and preparing to exit the car, your hand on the door handle. Tom responded with a ‘yeh’ but before you left you leaned over and pressed a kiss to his cheek, before whispering under your breath..

“Thankyou Tom.”

part 2 ish of sorts --> link

#tom holland #tom holland x reader #Tom Holland angst #tom holland fluff #tom holland x famous!reader

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foricecream · 3 years

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Quick Thoughts: Mirai no Mirai

I'm touched. I'm with my family for a while, for the first time in a year, and decided to take some time to watch Mirai no Mirai. From the trailers, you can already pick out some of the film's strongest points: beautiful musical scoring, exquisite movement animation, and heaps of the right kinds of nostalgia. From the advertised movie summaries, one can already understand that the show is both fantastical and slice-of-life, and predicated on family, specifically the relationship between a young child, Kun, and his younger, newborn sister, Mirai. The film to me was all that, and then even more emotional, even more gentle.

I would describe the film as a series of vignettes that artistically portray one family's growing pains from the perspective of a child's creative mind. After Mirai is born in the first ten minutes, the cycle of scenes follows mostly as such: an ordinary frustration gets to Kun, Kun throws a temper tantrum and runs to the oak tree in the yard, magical fantasy takes Kun to meet a family member from the past or present who shows him love and teaches him things, Kun learns and grows emotionally and the emotional dissonance is resolved when he returns to the present. Most times, it's the fantasy that makes these kinds of shows leap out to me, but I think Studio Chizu executed the everyday life scenes just as tastefully and magically as they did their fantastical train station and whirlwinds of fish.

Maybe in a future post, I'll talk about each scene at length (it deserves that!), but if I had to choose favorite vignettes, I adored the scene where Kun met his mom when she was his age. It's one of the simpler fantasy scenes and is perfectly set up to be that way. Kun's relationship with his mom takes up a lot of the story told in the present, so the writers didn't need to spend a lot of time telling the audience to be emotional watching Kun and his mom from the past mess up the entire house, knowing that Kun's mom in the present is constantly frustrated by his messiness.

The show had cyclical symbols for each of its fantasy scenes and they were such beautiful transitions. Like for this one, Kun bluntly brushes his mom's crying head when he first meets her in the fantasy scene, then when Kun comes back to the present, his mom is crying in her sleep and he strokes her head in the exact same way.

I also loved the last vignette, because it didn't forcefully bring symbols and characters from other vignettes together, but focused on resolving the main arc, Kun's relationship with Mirai...Gosh, there are so many good things to talk about, even the transition scenes and short bits of dialogue between the parents (because that small-talk dialogue evolves so much too)!

One of my favorite things about the film was how it paired regular and fantastical scenes with such well-composed and well-selected music. When the fish swirl through Kun, when the mother is trying to take care of Mirai, Kun, the dog, and preparing for a trip, when Kun, Mirai, and human-Yukko are trying to sneak up on the father, the accompanying music enhanced the tension, the comedy, and the frustrations.

The music wasn't recycled, the tracks for each relationship and scene felt tailormade and fresh. If you're not planning to watch the film, please listen to the OST! I loved it all, but "Trans Train" and "Hora Carpo" are the ones still in my head right now.

Definitely give this one a watch if you haven't! It's worth a month of Netflix. I hope you're doing well.

- For Ice Cream

#mirai no mirai #mirai #studio chizu #masakatsu takagi #animated film

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tobeornottotc · 3 years

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So much to say about all Friday shows my brain shut down it’s weird how in a day all the shows that aired from we best love to TT finale made my day and made me happy I cried. We best love is a gem that has come and taken my heart it’s everything I love in BL, it’s like reading a novel and never wanting it to end, the pinining, longing and now the angst still upcoming. My love to all the characters? Everything about the acting, music, and writing. Taiwan came back and said you haven’t forgotten why you adorE BL right? Well here’s more reasons. I’ve missed Taiwan shows for so long I used to take the history series for granted despite my love for it and now look at me. We best love is just so great and cheesy and yet done so well I’ve not have any issues with it 😭 it’s not short, I like how angsty yet sweet it gets. Just everything

Then you have to my star. Is there any moment when Korea does something that does not make me shout from the rooftops another great one!! Like are we surprised at this point. Where your eyes linger still is my favourite Korean BL and although different I get the same vibes from to my star, there’s secret pining, confusing hidden hints to maybe more than just a very happy celebrity that is clingy and flirty. Seojun seems to know he likes boys from the start or is it just me. I won’t be surprised that the reason he’s hiding that video is because the reason there was a fight was because it’ll out his sexuality, either he had something with said guy he paid money to keep quiet about or said guy knows about his sexuality and threatened to blackmail him. But it’s the subtle hints that he may know about himself and his feelings like in episode 4 how many times he leaves clues and hints he likes Jiwoo but hides it behind this clingy want to be friends persona, I think when he was drunk he let out his true feelings he’s been hiding and he outed himself on purpose. I’m probably thinking too much but there’d be a lot at stake in my opinion if someone knew he likes guys it’d be a bigger scandal that’s probably why he acts like he doesn’t know when he’s flirting or hinting he likes someone. Just me? Jiwoo is also an interesting tsundere why does he have his walls so up, he clearly also has feelings but in the trailer he’s going to harshly break Seojun’s heart? Obviously I think it’s a lie it’s noble idiocy he realised it was the way to help him not get caught in another scandal. I really need to know more about his character. And the chef who knows more than he lets on who is he speaking to about Seojun does he know the other guy in the video? Does he know why Seojun is hiding the video he seems to have picked on the chemistry of Seojun and Jiwoo more proof that person was right? Let me know what your ideas are on this show. If this show is dealing with internalised homophobia and the scandal of the media invasion and celebrity lifestyle then man it’ll be fun to rewatch this time and time again. Kisses in Korean BL shows have become a staple for revealing a lot of secrets and pushing our couples to confront the truth about what they try to rationalise when it comes to their feelings. In where your eyes linger them entering a relationship was not good for them because it’d lead to separation and more. In Mr heart the kiss was revealed and forced our marathon runner to question his priorities and feelings. And in wish you the kiss happened when Sang yi could no longer run away from what he was feeling even if it meant they couldn’t be together because of same reasons as this show I’m guessing a scandal being caused because idols and celebs dating is a bit forbidden in kmusic and kdrama industry. Loses the fans. And attracts media attention. Let’s see what To my star reveals with this kiss now Seojun isn’t hiding what he feels anymore.

Then we have 1000 stars premiere and I cried at sheer greatness I’m a clown I came into it trying hard to keep my expectations at bay but my 30 minutes in I was bawling stunned and quiet. The directing is exquisite, in depth and littered with clues and hints to the themes of the show. The focus on the flashbacks of Tiens life coated in dark light and suffocating aura compared to the light and warm atmosphere of Torfuns narration whose life seemed hard but she found peace and joy just helping people and learning about the joy of finding value in every little things she had and saw. The peace that Tien couldn’t feel because he felt stifled and empty from his own choices when he thought his life span would be short. He didn’t know the value of money, life or little things. He wasted and gambled precious things to him, acted privelaged and lost hours in a sea of acohol, cigarettes and more. His lifestyle felt wrong after he realised he was given a second chance to find meaning. There’s an overall dark theme of corruption, greed and power that’s going to me an obstacle for the characters. Torfuns demise is clearly more than just an accident with the way people are trying to push her life to the side rapidly, hide details like even selling Tiens car which I have a feeling is what took her life (not him but he bet it in a race before he fainted) or clues that Phupha isn’t going to be done trying to figure out what happened to her it’s foreshadowing this isn’t over yet. We also have another villain who fled during the forest ranger fights at the beginning, he’s definitely coming back I wonder what these criminals want and how much danger Pha will have to deal with with this boss and his other hooligans. Why are they in the forest and what do the rangers have to protect? Lastly our couple met and you can’t tell me that Pha isn’t smitten he is struck with love at first sight immediately he meets Tien but he hides it through his stern cover and he finds it funny to bicker and tease him. He also thinks Tien is too delicate, rich and shallow to stay to help the kids, so he’ll struggle with liking Tiens determination and drive to feeling angry at how much value of life and money he takes for granted but it’s a learning arc something Tien will grow learning and transforming from. Their bickering is cute, both are intrigued by each other already Tien because Pha is connected to Torfun’s wishes and hopes, but also he saw him in the weird fantasy dream thing. He’s intrigued by his stern cover vs why people seem to think he’s sweet and kind. And he’s irked by the guy who keeps getting under his skin and calling him out. It’s going to be fun to see his own reactions and feelings develop slowly and his doubt that it’s his and it’s Torfun’s heart acting up. That conflict will be so interesting to explore and knowing Backaof we’ll get a deeper conversation about sexuality, spirituality and more. All his shows even his fantasies have these deep reflections and conversations about feelings and life of someone struggling with what their sexuality is to them. Even when fantasy he never fails to include those scenes. But also there’s always a massive plot twist hidden in the story that could tear our characters apart, and it’s connected to our girls demise 🥺 i have so much more to say about this show. But for now just know I’m obsessed in awe and excited for this journey. It’ll be emotional a roller coaster of emotions and lessons, but also a love story I can’t wait to see unfold

Lastly TT finale. It’s precious to say TharnType will always have a place in my heart, marked into it as my favourite couple. Their love is so incredible, everlasting and theirs, their journey to each other has never been easy and yet their love is constant, precious and real. They make me smile and want to cry because I still can’t process we’ve come to the end. Boy was it a good way to say goodbye. I will miss this show, the annoyances, problems and also the good moments. I will miss my LeoFiat dramatic souls, their angst and their own journey to each other. Glad to seeFiat finally got to define the relationship he’s been hoping and waiting for. And Leo finally got to show Fiat how much he’s cared. Question why didn’t I get a kiss scene from them? Forever staying petty about that. Champ and Khun did what they were meant to do, their own relationship was also adorable and I just wish it wasn’t only the last episode we had to deal with their confession and realisation that there’s been something here all along. Champs cute though his nativity and dumbness was real and pure but I like how he understood what he was feeling and why he wanted Khun by his side and more. So well done to them getting together. We had Tharn finally Wade his way into Type’s fathers acceptance I wish he wasn’t just a comedic role but we had more conversations serious ones about him learning to accept Tharn still it was wholesome he grew to finally let them be together he understood Type was never going to leave Tharn and was at his best with him. Love the Kirigun family and how much they push Tharn to be his best. Their support was earnest and I loved we saw Thorn get married like a full circle after he proposed and found his own love story. We Stan a very protective supportive older brother who has always been a source of help during TT relationship. Techno irked me in this series and he became one of my least fave characters his snooping whilst cute just didn’t mesh well with me and I kept wondering where his man was because he acted like someone who wasn’t satisfied in the relationship he was in. Just an annoying presence overall. Sorry not sorry. That being said I didn’t hate this sequel and I know rewatching it as second part to TT journey watching 24 episodes of TT back to back will be an emotional experience and will show you all the clues, meta, subtext and overall plot of these two in a better light. Overall TT is always going to be a fave show of mine, and the sequel whilst not fulfilling all my expectations it made me still feel like it was worth my attention and care. Thank you to the cast, crew and production for this. My Fridays will never be the same we’re really now in 2021 with these new shows 😭 just manner of d@earth to go. 😭

Friday shows bringing me joy, excitement and most of all new lessons and new ideas. I’m so excited and I loved that these are the shows we have in January. Let’s hope they keep being great and our Fridays stay exciting and warm 👌

#we best love #to my star #1000stars #tharntype #Thai bl #bl series #bl drama #Korean bl #reviews #analysis #no 1 for you

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alfredo-kesmann · 3 years

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WIP ask game!

My Italian ass is asking for "Ci sarà", but my angst heart beats for "Solitaire". I don't want to be greedy, so let's pick Solitaire.

Unless...?

Thank you so so much for asking, and I'm sorry for reponding so late! The reason for this is mostly that I actually finally got inspiration for Solitaire again after you send me this ask, so thank you for that! I'll give you little snippets of both WIP's, because greed sometimes is good (namely when it motivates me to finally work on WIP’s).

So, first things first: Solitaire.

You're absolutely, completely right about the angst. The entire plot is Martín angst, I'm not even kidding. The general outline is that it forms a series with Fear and loathing/ Now I see, I see it for the first time, which is about Andrés in the Mint realising he should never have left Martín but accepting that it is too late now anyways. Solitaire is to be Martín's experiences of the Mint heist and the time afterwards. The title is taken from MARINA's song by the same name, and although it only is vaguely is inspired by the song, I want to match the vibe I get from it: a supposedly beautiful life that actually is just... loneliness and tears. A ‘we could have had it all’ and ending up with empty hands.

I only have a few paragraphs jotted down yet, though, because I find it one of my hardest WIP's to work on: I want to show a canon compliant Martín, and I want to accurately portray the way he feels like a victim, even if he isn't truly one. I want to correctly talk about his mental ilnesses (I am guessing at least depression and narcissistic personality disorder, though I’m not planning to label them in the story), but I am no psychologist. I started this WIP around March or April and I suppose I am now more sure about what I'm doing, and now the words are (finally) slowly flowing.

That being said, enjoy these little snippets:

“Andrés was like a poisonous drug, flowing through my veins and cutting off any necessary blood supply, but it felt so exquisite, like a breeze in the warmest summer day."

[....]

Martín sat in the middle of broken glass, a reflection of him in more than one way, and cried until breathing was getting hard and his eyes were red and dry.

[...]

The two of them had become so intertwined that sometimes it was difficult to see which one of them was dead and which one of them was still living.

[...]

The television only showed static now, ever since he had thrown an empty bottle of vodka towards it. ‘Don’t shoot the messenger’, went the saying, but Martín hadn't been able to think straight after he had heard the news. In a way the image was fitting, because Martín’s life had become static too, ever since that horrible day.

[...]

But now he understood Andrés’ romanticizing of the death, for his best friend had lived his whole life knowing he would take his own one day. And he had wanted to make his final show grand, he had wanted a last standing ovation, one that deafened his eyes, before the red curtains closed forever. Martín also knew that Andrés would dissaprove of the method he was contemplating, in his sad little flat, a simple shot instead of blazing guns. So he put the velvet box back and instead took a bottle of vodka in hands, waiting until a better idea came to mind, waited until he had a plan, ignoring how those were harder to come by now Andrés wasn’t with him anymore.

Now, Ci sarà is practically the polar opposite of Solitaire: it's pure and unadulterated fluff. The only thing they have in common is that they both are named after a song and both get too little of my attention ehehe oops. I have no idea where I want to go with this story, whether to make it a one shot, or something more. I think the latter, though.

Basically, I had been studying (very) late and it was around 3AM. I was listening to a music playlist when Ci sarà came on. It is one of my favourite Italian songs (though honestly I love anything by Romina Power and Al Bano) and yes I know, I know, my music taste is just as basic as Andrés de Fonollosa's. I, myself realised that exact fact then as well. So, I thought: what if this would be the song for Berlermo's first dance at their wedding? The song just makes me so happy in an undescribable way, and since feelings are always much stronger deep in the night, I felt so incredibly happy and in love listening to it, in the middle of the night, at a volume that was a little too loud. This resulted in me putting the song on repeat, and trying to describe that feeling I had felt. So in a way, ci sarà is a writing exercise.

The plot thus far basically is Andrés being overwhelmed by happiness during his wedding dance with Martín (and everyone is alive and happy). Because as much as I love making him suffer in stories, I also like writing his strangely soft side around Martín. I might write the entire wedding and also the proposal, because I have ideas, especially for the latter (Andrés had been planning to propose for months, then Martín is the first to ask him. Andrés is divided between tremendous frustration and great happiness, but obviously says ‘yes’; that’s also why I imagine that they both take the surname ‘Berotte-de Fonollosa’).

So, here some snippets (I couldn’t choose so it’s slightly more than ‘some’):

They were spinning, whilst the music was swelling, and it was dizzying Andrés. One step back, to the side, close, one forward, to the side, close, an endless repetition. Martín spinning him around and pulling him in his arms again. Their friends all singing Ci sarà, all wearing white clothing and pearly smiles, the adoration clearly visible in Martín’s eyes, how beautiful Martín was looking in the suit. No, not just Martín, his Martín Berotte-de Fonollosa. They were turning again, his husband’s -he couldn’t believe it, his husband’s- warm hand burning on his waist, then on his right cheek, only shortly and suddenly the refrain started and Martín was singing too, albeit softly, yet it’s still too loud in Andrés’ ears. Everything is so loud, so bright, so vibrant. It’s all so pure, and he’s drowning in love, with the sun shining brightly as if it was God’s blessing of their union, the perfectly green grass as nature’s wedding gift to the new spouses.

[...]

Andrés manages to spot his hermanito in the choir made of bank robbers, he’s holding hands with his wife and Paula and he looks so happy and carefree. He has finally accepted Andrés’ relationship, he had even been the one to walk Andrés to the altar, and the things Sergio had told him then were still going through his head.

The butterflies in Andrés’ stomach were taking him over more and more, he is growing dizzy and dizzier. All this love, he has no place for it, it is seeping through his veins, bursting out of his fingertips like rays of sunshine, out of the fingertips that are currently in Martín’s hand and on his shoulder. Andrés knows that he hasn’t had much to drink yet, but he has never been more intoxicated, intoxicated on this eternity captured in less than four minutes. Martín is turning them again, leading him gently, keeping him steady. Martín is there for him like he has always been. And now it’s finally right, it’s finally the way it should be, the other ring on Martín’s hand. Finally, he has married his last spouse, it’s finally the one who he was meant to be with. Finally, finally, finally.

[...]

Andrés feels like he is flying, like his feet aren’t touching the floor anymore. The two of them form a leaf in a strong summer wind by the blue sea, slowly going upwards in an intricate dance, but they’re also so much more. They are the wind and the sea, the entire universe is drowning in their love and they are drowning in the universe. It’s all so much, so so much, yet so small. There is no Berlín, no Palermo, no monastery, no friends forming a choir, no wedding cake, it’s just Andrés and Martín Berotte-de Fonollosa, and their love for eachother.

[...]

Andrés is oh so dizzy with happiness and love, and then he feels it, wet on his cheeks, rolling over his lips, Martín’s hand gently sweeping the oceans welling in his husband’s eyes away. He wants to open his eyes, but he can’t and he doesn’t need it anyway, he already knows what Martín’s soft smile would look like. When Martín kisses him again, softly cupping his cheek, Andrés realises his husband had been crying as well, their tears mixing together like everything between the two of them always has, the way they’ve always been. Like so many of their clothes, their ideas, their furniture, their past and future, their personalities, their love. They have always been intertwined, it just took Andrés a while to see.

[...]

“I can’t believe you cried,” Martín said as he giggled, truly giggled, and Andrés thought it was somewhat comparable bubbles coming to the surface in a fishing pond, and then decided it was a stupid thought because nothing can compare to his husband. Andrés can’t help smiling. “You were crying too, mi marido,” he says softly, the quip in there lost, replaced by pure adoration. He takes Martín’s face into his hands. “Today was my last wedding, I know it for sure. No one else has ever made me feel like this.” And normally, Martín would have joked that he must had said that to all of his wives too, but he didn’t. Instead, his hands mirrored Andrés’, softly stroking Andrés’ cheekbones, which were still wet with tears. Their lips met without any of their usual aggression and hunger, and maybe this kiss was even more important than the one after the exchanging of vows, for Andrés just had made a promise that was much more meaningful.

Thank you again for asking, I hope you liked these snippets! I might or might not have just started another WIP based on the season 5 trailer, so I have no clue when these two will finally be published.

#Berlermo #berlin x palermo #andrés de fonollosa #martín berotte #berlín #palermo #berlin #my fics #asks #wip folder meme

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melancholicumsomnia · 3 years

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[FIC] A Little Miracle In The Volume Part 2

A/N: Here’s the second part of my fic contribution to PEDRO PASCAL APPRECIATION WEEK 2021! Part 2 focuses on the #ppaw2021 theme of the day, Favorite TV show Pedro starred in. Obviously, I still loved Pedro best in The Mandalorian, but his performance as Oberyn Martell in Game of Thrones was absolutely exquisite!

Thank you to @pedrohub for the incentive to write this little fic. To @pedrocentric, here is Part 2!

PREVIOUS PARTS

Part 1

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

A Little Miracle In The Volume

Rory

Part Two

Pedro was limping back to his trailer, struggling against the urge to massage his aching groin. He had just come from the Volume to film a scene with Gina Carano, who plays Cara Dune, and Misty Rosas, who was playing the Ugnaught Kuiil. It was a simple scene actually, requiring their characters to ride through the rugged terrain of Nevarro in order to make their rendezvous with Carl Weather’s Greef Karga. In the pre-vis, they were going to ride blurrgs. In reality, the blurrgs turned out to be mechanical bulls, but with a wider girth.

Brendan and Lateef had seen the dubious looks he was throwing at the machine and they couldn’t help laughing.

“Come on, man!” Lateef said in between wheezes. “There’s nothing to worry about. That thing won’t buck.”

“Hey! You can’t be Mando just by wearing the armor,” Brendan then goaded him. “You must ride the blurrg. Both Lateef and I have done it, so can you.”

Pedro let out a groan and gritted his teeth at that memory. Even his back was starting to ache in sympathy with his groin. “I guess I’m starting to feel my age. I really need to work out more.”

With his trailer looming not so far from him at last, he quickened his pace, wanting that ice pack he had his assistant prepare for him in the fridge.

Before he could reach it, however, Pedro’s eyes were drawn to Werner Herzog’s trailer nearby. The German director was seated in front of his trailer beneath a beach umbrella, the Child on his lap. He was watching something on his iPad, which was propped up on its stand on top of a small table. Pedro heard snickers and he whirled to see the puppeteers Tamara Woodard, Kan, and Trevor with remote controls in their hands, hiding behind the crates.

Deb Chow happened to be passing by and, when she saw the trio, she remarked, “You guys are the worst! You should really stop feeding that old man’s fantasies!”

“We just want to keep him happy,” Kan answered, flicking a knob so that Pedro saw Grogu’s ears go up. Sagely, he added, “We all know the stories about him and Klaus Kinski. We’re not taking any chances.” The others nodded in grim agreement, causing Deb to roll her eyes, mutter “I give up!” under her breath, and march off.

Curiosity getting the better of him in the end, Pedro cautiously approached that imperious figure. “Hi, what are you guys watching?”

Werner glanced briefly back at him and said dryly, “Oh, it’s you.” Going back to the TV show playing on his iPad, he replied, “Since you are playing our stoic bounty hunter, I thought I should explore your previous works. The Child and I were going to watch Narcos, but since it’s about Pablo Escobar, it might be too violent for the little one. So I figured the best option would be your episode in Game of Thrones.”

“Uhm, I don’t think Game of Thrones is also appropriate viewing for a kid that young,” Pedro commented in turn, only to realize what he just said. Wait! I’m talking about a puppet, not a real kid. Oh my God! This delusion is contagious! Grogu looked up then and gave him a sweet smile. But, then again, he’s so cute! Awww!

Werner’s lips pursed in a disapproving pout. “Yes, I know. I was pouring myself some iced tea when that scene of you in the brothel came on. I couldn’t cover the baby’s eyes fast enough, so he was able to catch an eyeful of ample bosoms and buttocks.” He glanced down at the baby sitting on his lap, wagging a finger. “Remember what Grandpa Werner told you. When you see a scene like that, you must never watch, you must never listen.”

Great! Pedro couldn’t stop himself from rolling his eyes, just as Deb had done. Now, you’re quoting Grizzly Man at him.

At Werner’s remark, Grogu gazed up at Pedro again. There was no mistaking the now lecherous, toothy grin on his little face and the enthusiastic bobbing up and down of his brows.

Scowling, Pedro turned to the mischievous puppeteers. He mouthed out to them, “Guys! What the fuck?”

In reply, the puppeteers gave him thumbs up and wide, conniving smirks.

“I should say though,” Werner then began thoughtfully, “I am very impressed with your performance here. Oberyn Martell, a proud, head-strong, and seductive prince desiring revenge for his poor sister… In other actors, the arrogance would overwhelm their performance, making him a figure to be detested or, worse, a caricature of similar characters in past films. But, no, behind that façade is kindness and gentleness. It’s because of your eyes, I think, and your voice. You’re speaking with a Latino accent in this one. You are from Mexico?”

“No, Chile actually.”

“You have a splendid way of expressing your emotions through tone of voice. Very few actors can do that. Brilliant performance, young man,” Werner gave that reluctant praise. “I can see why they chose you to play the Mandalorian. Even if you are not wearing the armor, you can still carry the character on your voice alone. How old were you when you did this?” “

“Uh, 38, 39, I guess.”

“And how old are you now?”

“I’m 43.” Pedro was not sure where this line of questioning was going.

“And it is only now that Hollywood has taken notice of your talent.” The German director shook his head ruefully. “Hollywood has become too reliant on the so-called ‘star power.’ I dread to think about the other precious little stars who are going unnoticed.”

Pedro was touched by Werner’s words. “It’s okay, sir. I’ve paid my dues, done my share of waiting on tables as a struggling actor. In fact, after working on Game of Thrones, I couldn’t find a single job. It took months before I got a recurring role on another TV show, The Mentalist.”

“Now, you have made it at last.”

“I’m not letting this current success get to my head. I know just how fickle Hollywood can be. To be very honest, I still don’t have that confidence. All this…” He raised his hands to the media campus surrounding them. “…All the work that I’ve been doing in the past few months, it still seems like a dream to me.”

“And that’s a very good attitude to have. Always be true to yourself. Show people who you truly are.” A wry, fond smile formed on Werner’s lips. “I suddenly remembered Klaus Kinski. He had been extremely difficult. He was a man with serious mental health problems. But he never sought to disguise his true self. It made it very hard for people like me, his family, and other people around him. Despite his foul temper, his brutality, it is that frank, straight-in-your-face honesty, I think that’s what I admired most about him.”

Pedro chuckled. “At least, I’m not hot-tempered like Klaus Kinski.”

A towering hulk of a man marched onscreen on the iPad and Werner gasped. “That is no man! That’s a grizzly bear!”

“That’s Hafþór Júlíus Björnsson, one of the world’s strongest men. He played Ser Gregor Clegane, aka ‘The Mountain Who Rides’, in Game of Thrones.”

At that moment, a bright idea suddenly came into Pedro’s head. Should I dare ask him now? He did just praise me after all. Maybe he is already starting to accept me. Okay, I will!

“Uhm, Mr. Herzog?” Pedro began shyly. “Since you liked my past performances and appreciate my worth as an actor, may you please allow me to spend more time with the baby?”

Werner turned to him sharply, his eyes flashing like daggers. “I appreciate your worth as an actor, true. But it absolutely has nothing to do with caring for this baby.”

Pedro was crestfallen. Still, he persisted, “Sir, please. I promise you that I will and can take good care of the baby. My sister Javiera…she often entrusts the care of her kids to me.”

“But they are not your children! You are a bachelor.” Werner looked him straight in the eye. “How could you be a father to this Child when you aren’t one?”

“In case you haven’t noticed, sir, this Child is a puppet.”

“Then how can you commit to playing a father when you cannot immerse yourself in the fantasy?”

“But how can I commit when you’re keeping the Child all to yourself?”

“I have only three episodes to do in this TV show. I want to make the most of this time I have with him. We have just started filming. You have an entire season to bond with him!”

“No, I don’t! I still have to finish my commitments with Wonder Woman 1984. I only have a single episode with the Child this season, so my time here is short!”

Because the two men were arguing heatedly, none of them noticed that the Child was still watching the episode on the iPad. He was staring enrapt as the trial by combat between Oberyn Martell and the Mountain commenced. Many times, Grogu would look closely at Oberyn’s face and then gaze up admiringly at Pedro.

But then, the Mountain struck back with a vicious blow, knocking out Oberyn’s teeth. As the Child watched in growing horror, the Mountain placed his fingers over Oberyn’s eyes and pressed down.

Both Pedro and Werner were shocked when Grogu let out a high-pitched scream, his eyes wide and waving his little arms frantically. A quick glance at the iPad and Pedro realized why Grogu was in a state of mortal terror.

Before Werner could stop him, Pedro scooped the distraught Child up and started rocking him, patting his back. Grogu kept shaking his little head, rubbing his brow over the soft cloth of the cape hanging above Pedro’s collarbone.

“Sssh! Don’t cry, Grogu,” Pedro whispered soothingly in his ear, being careful that Werner did not hear the Child’s name. “It’s just a TV show. As you can see, I’m okay. He never hurt me.” To his relief, his gentle reassurances gradually calmed the Child down.

Still stunned to silence, Werner could only watch with mouth agape as Pedro placed Grogu back on his lap. To his credit, the Child raised his arms to him, wanting more hugs. Despite his longing, Pedro just gave the little one a gentle smile and a pat on the head.

“Stop watching my past works with the Child,” Pedro scolded the German filmmaker. “None of them are appropriate for kids, except for that one Touched By An Angel episode. I wouldn’t even recommend The Great Wall because he might get scared of the Tao Tei monsters.”

Having given the final word, Pedro limped off to his trailer to get that ice pack and some much-needed rest.

Neither man noticed the perplexed group of puppeteers behind them, all of them staring down at their remote controls. Kan even took to giving his controls little shakes.

When their fellow puppeteer Jason Matthews came over, Trevor asked him, “Hey, Jason! Were you controlling the puppet just now?”

“No, I was in a meeting with Dave.”

Tamara interrupted, “Did you install a mic on the kid because we just heard him scream?”

Jason stared back at them. “What mic? You know that any baby noises will be added by the sound guys later.”

Kan gripped a startled Jason’s arms. “We saw the Child move…by itself! And he also screamed, like a real baby!”

Jason grabbed Kan’s hands and slowly lowered them. “Get a grip, will ya? It’s probably just a minor malfunction. Get the puppet from Mr. Herzog and we’ll check it out.”

“But…but…”

“No buts! You shouldn’t have been playing with it to begin with. You AND Mr. Herzog.”

The puppeteers then walked off, leaving his confused crew behind.

“But…but…we did see the Child move by itself!” they argued back feebly.

TO BE CONTINUED

#ppaw2021 #miracle in the volume fic #real person fic #the mandalorian #pedro pascal #pedrohub #pedrocentric

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aion-rsa · 3 years

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The Simpsons Season 32 Episode 15 Review: Do PizzaBots Dream of Electric Guitars?

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This The Simpsons review contains spoilers.

The Simpsons Season 32 Episode 15

The Simpsons Season 32, episode 15, “Do PizzaBots Dream of Electric Guitars?,” is a reaffirmation of all things Simpson. It is off the rails as far as timelines go, but captures the classic subversion of all things sacred. The episode is about rekindling the sparks of youth which have burned out and the destruction of memory, specifically childhood memories. The first thing the episode tackles is what we know about the Simpson family.

The episode opens in a flashback to the 1990s, when Homer was a teenager at his first job. Of course, we know he’s actually already married with two kids, and starring on a show which has been on TV since 1989 at this point in his life, but after 32 seasons of The Simpsons, there are only so many satirical scenarios left to dredge for a backstory. In this timeline we get to see Hip Hop Homer, aspiring DJ and lover of the Humpty dance. Abe thinks his son is wasting his life. The premise of the opening segment is the 8 Mile story, which The Simpsons has mined before for inspiration. It’s crystal Pepsi clear.

Non-canonical episodes of The Simpsons are very often series highlights. The “Treehouse of Horror” episodes consistently rank at the top of every season. The writers don’t have to deal with everyday terrors like character continuity, or fit into any timeline. Springfield residents can be dispensed at whim, and not just Hans Moleman, who can be killed in any manner of ways during a regular episode, occasionally more than once.

Gil Gunderson is another ultimately disposable character. Here we get a faux backstory to spice up the 8 Mile premise. Homer is working at a specialty pizza parlor in this episode, setting up mechanical robots who sing for kids. When a birthday brat ruins one, it’s showtime for the teen rapper. Homer “knows all the Ices, from Cube to T,” but his opening cut is “Slice, Slice Baby,” which he heavily samples from Vanilla Ice. Homer uses it to upsell pizzas, even finding a rhyme for Calamari olives. He ends with a plug for Canadian bacon which, on pizza, is very Vanilla Ice.

At the height of the pizzatainment, Gil’s place is shut down by the feds, because there were drugs stashed in the robot musicians. Homer’s dream is dashed. He loved those pizza-bots. We learn it’s just a memory Homer’s repressed, but remembering it wrecks him. Marge can’t stand to see him this way. He’s lost his youthful spirit. She can tell because he no longer shuffles his pancakes or butt races the dog on the carpet. Moe can sense something is wrong because Homer doesn’t spin Barnie on his barstool anymore, or drink beer from a crazy straw.

Bart and Lisa can tell because Moe and Marge agree on something. Also, because it makes sense. Rapping pizza robots “is a very dad kind of trauma.”

Putting the band back together makes for some classic comic sequences. The kids track Gil to Skid Row in Hollywood, where he remembers the incident in a completely subverted way. Back then, the whole world was his nostril, the drugs sold themselves, and he’s just waiting for a chance to pull himself together and sell more drugs. Disco Stu, who is a collector of disco memorabilia, owns the Jive Turkeys from the display. His mother, Public Domain Debbie, mocks her son for obsessing over the worst music craze ever inflicted on America, and frets over what his father, Doo-Wop Steve, would think.

Professor Frink owns the mechanical beaver. His segment comes second but it is the comic high point of the episode. Of course he understands the connection with mechanical friends. His own mechanical friends only want, well, the punch line, which almost makes you miss the opening of Moe’s wonderful Colombo spoof. He’s even wearing a raincoat, and spins back with one more thing, some WD-40 and an Enrique Iglesias record could only mean the last member of the mechanical band has been turned into a sex robot. Upon being outsmarted, Sideshow Mel provides a perfect Colombo villain denouement. He applauds the effort, very slowly. It is clever and funny, but lands perfectly after the Frink highpoint.

J.J. Abrams is the guest star and his quest to provide ageless marvels ultimately delivers the episode’s deepest cynicism. His sycophants have to keep him in a childlike state of wonder and constant whimsy, tracking down 1982 quarters and providing other emotional comforts. Lisa and Bart get into his offices with the kinds of “super vague” promises the Abrams enterprise considers its prime directive. But when they steal the last pizza bot, on little Star Wars robot wheels no less, they have taken too big a bite on the kitsch.

Even Homer is appalled, because stealing from a celebrity is, by law, equivalent to murdering “a dozen normies.” This is wonderful underhanded commentary, the likes of which goes back to the best of the series, since its beginning. Abrams, as himself, makes it worse by not only taking the actual mechanical musicians, but destroying everything Homer loves about them by planning a robot reboot franchise in a nine-movie arc. It’s set to open March 30th, “the new Fourth of July.” Ruining childhoods is what Abrams does best. He really is a bad robot.

Homer and Comic Book Guy have such a wonderful bonding you can actually see Homer turning into the trolling collectible collector by the climax. They meet to eat, in this case their feelings, which includes chocolate frosty depression and a hot apple cry. The sadness swallowers commiserate over ruined childhood memories, like Sonic the Hedgehog’s creepy human teeth. It is deliciously warped by how touching it turns out to be.

No matter how good determination tastes, Homer can neither save his childhood nor stop the robot reboot. Too many animators went blind to make it. Homer hilariously notes “the reimagining is worse than I could’ve imagined.” The movie stars “whoever was famous eight months ago.” In the trailer, the “Agents of Pizza” promise they’ll “save the world in 90 minutes or the movie is free.” The whole movie setup sequence is a giggle.

The Simpsons revert to their irreverent roots. Movie protesters hold signs reminding people “Some of us are women” and “unrelease the Snyder cut.” Abe admits being a terrible father is a generational thing. Men his age could only love sports stars and cars, and his dream child would have been a 1963 impala SS Sport Coupe.

The conclusion seals the episode as a classic. Not only does Homer lovingly blame Abe for every horrible memory of his young life, his own kids admit they can’t wait to burn the memories of their childhoods from their brains. The readings on lines like “it was always him sucking,” “I hate you dad,” and “forget you’re terrible parents” are exquisitely inverted emotionally. The “Troll Force Five” epilogue uses Comic Book Man and his clan very well.

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“Do PizzaBots Dream of Electric Guitars?” is the best episode of the season so far, and a classic installment to The Simpsons repertoire. Clearly up to par with the best of the classics. It is so satisfying, it feels as if it was individually made to suit me, just like J.J. Abrams would’ve done.

The post The Simpsons Season 32 Episode 15 Review: Do PizzaBots Dream of Electric Guitars? appeared first on Den of Geek.

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justfollowmyhansel · 6 years

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October 15th -- One, Two, Three, ‘I Love You!’

The next morning went more or less the same as the other two mornings in Japan had: Miya and I got up when her alarm went off, had breakfast (for me this time, the rest of my food from the previous night), and had tea.

We generally went over the plans for the day including changing something from my itinerary. Originally, I was going to check into the hotel before going to the show so that I could already have the majority of my stuff dropped off before heading out and since there was no curfew, potentially spend more time stagedooring should the possibility arise. Unfortunately, after seeing the map of where the hotel was relative to the Hikarie, Miya didn’t think that I had left myself enough time to get back to the venue and up to my seats before the show would start and advised that I check into the hotel after the show. I agreed. So far, I hadn’t gotten lost at all, but even if everything went smoothly, the timeline would have been too tight to realistically be comfortable with. Besides, the original reason for wanting to leave that evening open ended had more or less resolved itself out of being an issue. We ultimately opted for me to come back after the show and pick up some of the stuff that I’d leave with Miya for the evening before heading to the hotel. I had until 11pm to check in and the show was earlier than it had been either of the two previous nights. Realistically, I should have had time to go to the show, eat, and find the new shopping area that I had been told about the previous night.

I mentioned again to Miya about how seeing the Hedwig shows were making me wish that I had a ticket to see John’s movie premiere and double checked with the airline that it was still only the $400-ish dollars to switch the plane reservation dates and that it hadn’t gone up even further since the last time I had checked. The date-change price was still the same, but it didn’t matter if I didn’t have a ticket to the movie. Miya very kindly looked to see if there were any movie tickets up for resale on one of the sites we had used to get a closer seat for the Osaka show than the original row M that we had won in the lottery. (As well as a couple of other sites.)

While she looked, I started doodling the look that I wanted for if — when— I was able to see the movie. For about a year, when I did my makeup I had added a small black star under my left eye because of David Bowie. He had always been aligned with celestial bodies for me from the Ziggy Stardust era to TMWFTE to his last album being titled Blackstar. It seemed like a fitting tribute to him to have a star doodled by my eye considering in the video for Jean Genie, he had an anchor by his right because of how Elizabeth Montgomery had done her makeup as Serena on Bewitched. I also opted for some small contouring to exaggerate the sharpness of my cheekbones and a blue lipstick like the one I had just bought from M.A.C. (but there was another one that I had had my eye on.) Also while I waited, I drew on my own arm Hedwig’s name in silvery Japanese and a gold version of her blonde wig beside the last character. When I showed it off, Miya said that it looked good enough that it could easily have been mistaken as written by someone who had written Japanese their whole life.

It took some searching, but Miya found one that might work. I didn’t want to switch my flight or hotel reservations until I knew for sure and we wouldn’t know until the ticket was delivered the next day (or Tuesday.) I was glad that I had more or less already sorted my things that morning into the things that I would take with me to Osaka and the things that I didn’t need to bring, but had required either thus far on the trip or were in case of emergency. I opted to leave behind the purple water bottle that I had brought with me, but not yet used on the trip. Miya and I had agreed that I would come back to her place after the show to drop off any things I picked up.

Before I left, Miya suggested that we take a picture together so that we could show Risa and also so that we could have a photo of the pair of us meeting in person – a further way to memorialize the trip and a better way for us to remember each other beyond our further digital communication.

Miya had asked that I go down to the station entirely by myself this time and having walked the relatively straightforward route twice already, I felt confident that I could make it on my own without any hiccups. Outside of confirming which platform I needed to get on of the two similarly named ones at Tabata, I arrived without running into any issues.

In what ended up being a coincidental stroke of brilliance, I took off my hoodie to reveal my David Bowie t-shirt at the exact moment that Young Americans started playing over the theatre’s speaker system. It was one of the earliest times that I had arrived for any of the shows and yet, I still had this sense of being late. (Up until this point, only the first night’s performance had seen an earlier arrival from myself.)

Shortly before going, Miya had remarked something along the lines of not having heard the new encore song that John had mentioned wanting to perform in Japan a few months ago. It had been mentioned in one of the earlier interviews discussing the shows. I also thought that it was strange that he hadn’t performed it yet, but a lot can change in two months so I had thought that perhaps he changed his mind about wanting to perform the song at the end of Hedwig at all.

The show itself was wonderful. I still had the distinct feeling that Saturday night’s was the best in terms of whole-show delivery, but some of the individual scenes or songs were some of the best performed overall, specifically Angry Inch and everything from the trailer scene with Tommy through the end. It was the first time in four performances that Hedwig said to Tommy ‘What’s wrong?’ ‘I love you.’ ‘Then love the front of me.’ That line has always been so powerful to me. For a long, long time, whenever that line was delivered I would start to cry because of the meaning within the text. And to myself. And hearing it for the first time in Japan -- hearing it for the first time live, almost brought back that feeling for the first time in months.

Somehow, I managed to not actually start crying at that point and kept it together until almost the very end where Hedwig sings ‘And all the strange rock and rollers....’ Then I lost it about as hard as I did seeing RENT earlier this year during Angel’s funeral. I actually thought I’d have to leave the theatre crying and that I’d have to explain to people (patrons, staff, whomever....) that ‘No, I’m fine, I just really love this show and tonight’s performance did me in more than the others.’

It was the last night in Tokyo and possibly the last night I’d actually be seeing John in Tokyo if the ticket for the movie didn’t pan out. And as incredible as this experience had been, after the show was actually over, there’d be one time left to see John as Hedwig this trip -- this year -- ever? All of that somehow found its way bound up into the delivery of my favourite line and then a few minutes later into delivery of one of my favourite songs.

Of course, Midnight Radio wasn’t the last part of the show that night. Like so many other dates, John came out at the end with Ataru and introduced the band, himself, and Ataru and gave a few comments, remarks, asides... that Ataru translated for him into Japanese so that the majority of the audience could understand. And then they did the encore song. ‘The End of Love.’ It was very beautiful. He was beautiful. The lighting....was beautiful. And at the very end, one last time, John came out with his phone and requested that everyone in the venue on the count of three yell “I love you.”

And then it was time to go.

One of the stand-out things from that night’s performance was that during Exquisite Corpse, when Hedwig and Yitzhak end up pushing against each other’s hands, fighting for dominance within the narrative, was just how real the fighting felt. Like there was an actual rage behind it for Hedwig and a power that she was using to physically push against her husband and that she was using to push back against Hedwig with. In terms of acting, it was absolutely incredible. Some of the other particular stand out moments from that show included all of the screams Ataru did (Angry Inch and Exquisite Corpse, very notably) and Random Number Generation.

Once again, after the show I found a less-occupied bathroom, washed my face and hands, and started about completing the small amount of fun errands and things I wanted to accomplish that day. I had thought about going to one of the other restaurants in the Hikarie to get a pork cutlet bowl. Silly, yes, given that the reason that in particular had caught my eye was because it was mentioned in Yuri! On Ice, but it made a certain amount of sense given that I had enjoyed the show, John had enjoyed the show so much he made it the theme of his birthday party that year, I was in Japan, and that I would, in fact, have to eat something that night. But seeing that I wasn’t hungry yet, I chose to run my errands before heading back to Miya’s, getting food, and then heading out to the hotel.

The first thing was going to the M.A.C. booth once again. One of the things that I had done while I was waiting to find out if getting a ticket to see the movie was even still possible, was to design the makeup look that I had wanted to wear if I was able to go. So far, I had been relatively bare faced when seeing Hedwig, but I wanted to be able to be overtly punk rock when I went to the movie. That would mean buying some makeup since I had left all of mine at home, but clothing-wise I should have been relatively set, having narrowed down my clothing options to either my David Bowie saxiphone t-shirt from Hot Topic (photo by Mick Rock) or my distressed Union Flag t that I had only brought with me to sleep in. Both would have been pretty punk rock, but Miya thought the British flag was for sure the one to go with.

Before that night’s, I had stopped by to see if I could refind a lipgloss I had thought about for the previous night -- a blue similar to the lipstick that I had, but with an iridescent quality that the blue I had bought just didn’t have. I couldn’t find it, but I did find a couple of others that I wanted to try on top of the blue that I did have and a very patient and helpful makeup artist who let me chatter on to her about Hedwig and John and How to Talk to Girls at Parties and how the show was wonderful for so many reasons, not the least of which was one of the major changes in the staging for Japan because of what it was, what it meant for two of the main characters, and what it generally could mean for the show going forth. I also showed off a drawing that I had done on my arm that day before leaving Miya’s house. I thought that it was be a nice touch for the lift up your hands part of the song and I don’t know if Hedwig or Yitzhak would have seen it, but it was something that made me feel a little more a part of the show than apart from it for that performance (especially considering very early on, I had opted to not do any cosplays for the shows since I didn’t know how I’d fit just all of that into my bags given everything else AND all the stuff I was anticipating buying.)

The makeup artist was very nice and in addition to helping me basically see my makeup sketch be visually realized, offered to connect with me on Instagram later after she got off of work since she enjoyed talking to me and we could always chat with each other as a way to further our understandings of the other’s respective languages (she had studied in Canada for a year and a half prior to this so her English was much better than my Japanese.) We didn’t end up connecting later, but it was a very nice thing to have had happen in the moment.

Sometimes, as is generally human nature, I get in my head an idea that absolutely has to work its way to its natural conclusion before my mind will be satisfied. In this case the idea that had gotten into my head was finding a particular pair of sexy stockings that I had seen in a lingerie shop the day before. That shop did not sell those stockings, but one of the clerks had suggested trying Shibuchka. The way that she described it–and the way that Miya translated it for me– made it sound like Shibuchka was an underground shopping mall both in the sense that it was under the train station and that it was a seedy, sexy underground shopping mall. A place where I might be able to find my packer or a binder (or whips…) in addition to potentially finding sexy stockings.

Before I left, the makeup artist gave me a piece of paper with ‘how do I get to Shibushka’ written on it so that I could find my way (and hopefully, my stockings.) So far, no one that I had talked to thus far about it had actually been there.

I ended up showing my piece of paper to a different woman on the first floor of the mall, who pulled out a map of the Shibuya Shopping District and circled approximately where I needed to go and how to get there. I followed her directions down basically to where the train lines and companies crossed under the buildings above. It was a whole underground system of shops, restaurants, and train lines that explained where just all of the people who were supposedly in Tokyo at the same time as I was always were when I was outside and relatively alone.

Surprising myself, I managed to find my way to the Shibuska shopping center relatively easily and to my greater surprise found that it was not some seedy sex dungeon themed place as I had first imagined, but a bright shopping district set up more or less like a flea market.

I bought things at a lot of the booths including a glittery skull-print tie (for when I inevitably dress up as Hedwig and have my mother be Yitzhak), a studded bracelet (for the movie premiere), a pair of thigh high sheer stockings with a couple of inches or so of lace at the top (because of the crate show staging), three brightly coloured hair clip-in hair pieces (blue for the movie and pink and blonde because of Hedwig), and a few other assorted items because they were relatively cheap and definitely cute.

As the shops began to close, I tried to make my way back to the Hikarie to get the pork cutlet bowl and get on my way. I managed to get turned around and went to a different grocery store than the one that I had passed through to go to the shopping center. That one had been organic and this one seemed to not be as it focused more on different little patisseries and meat counters.

I stopped at one of the pastry counters and ordered a strawberry shortcake to go since it was just so cute and they’re always so expensive to get in the US when they’re done up in kawaii Japanese stylings as opposed to the more American approach of dumping everything into a bowl or onto a plate and calling that good. I asked the man behind the counter how to get back to the Hikarie and he pointed me in the directions I needed to go.

Once I actually reached the Hikarie though, I began to think that I was running late! That I only had an hour to get back to Miya’s and then get to the hotel before I wouldn’t be able to check in! I hopped on the train and tried to rebook my plane and hotel tickets as a way to stop from freaking out over being so late. As it turned out, my adjustment to 24-hr time had not been a smooth one. It was only 8 and not 10, I still had a few hours to transfer everything over and then head to the hotel.

At Miya’s, I switched around my bag again, adding in a few of the items I had opted to leave at hers until after the show and dropping off some of the things I wouldn’t need again until I got back from Osaka like all of my new purchases from Shibuschka. Even after an unscheduled backing up of my photos and what-nots, I still ended up leaving an hour earlier than I had anticipated. An hour, it turned out, that I very much needed.

Getting the train to the right spot wasn’t the tricky part, per se. The tricky part was getting myself from where the train station let out to the hotel at night. In the dark. In the rain. With streets that went diagonal just as often as they went straight. In the middle of being turned around and starting to be frustrated, John started posting things from his time in Japan -- backstage photos, videos, timelapse takes of him applying his lipstick.... I sent a vaguely worded request for the back of his outfit in Japan (as much for cosplay and drawing purposes as anything else, tbh.) To my surprise, he actually responded, posting a photo of the back of his Tokyo cape. The timing of that and one of the songs from Hedwig popping onto my mp3, somehow conspired so that I was able to find my way to the hotel with just enough time to spare.

I checked in, took a shower, and texted my mother to let her know that my seven day trip in Japan had now turned into an 8 day one because I didn’t want to leave without seeing the movie and I didn’t want to leave feeling like the trip was somehow incomplete.

Before going to sleep, I listened to the video of the End of Love that John had posted again as well as a few other Hedwig songs that I absolutely adored.

#travel diary #travel diary japan #japan day 5

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lavila27 · 5 years

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Downton Abbey: the movie

“Should auld acquaintance be forgot and never brought to mind? Should auld acquaintance be forgot, and auld lang syne!”

Full of emotion and fan satisfaction, the television show of Downton Abbey came to a beautiful conclusion. With tears of joy and sadness, I watched the final episode one week before seeing the new film. It ended very well (which rarely happens with tv anymore), so naturally I became apprehensive if the movie would live up to the expectacion it had set for itself. Of course, as any fan would know, Downton Abbey is different. It’s a cut above the rest. Rarely does a series go on to make a feature film but this one did. For this reason, I was feeling confidently optimistic.

***SPOILERS AHEAD***

I suppose this is a little off topic but I remember when each new Harry Potter film came out. There was a special feeling each time the iconic “Hedwig’s Theme” would slowly start and we would pick up where we left off as if meeting an old friend again. I cannot explain how happy I was that Downton Abbey began in a similar fashion. The first few notes of the theme song played and I was instantly brought home to Downton. It was really quite a perfect beginning with a mix of subdued familiarity and new excitement. What is this message? Who is from? Who is it for? Of course we all knew where it was going. And just like that, we see Mr. Barrow and the staff of Downton. I’ll be honest, the goosebumps and happy tears weren’t far away.

I appreciate that the film got off to a running start with everyone and everything right where we left them. The characters were living their normal lives joyfully uprooted by the news that the King and Queen would be visiting Downton Abbey! I applaud the talented Mr. Julian Fellowes for coming up with a brilliant premise for this movie. What better way to rejoin our upstairs and downstairs family but to follow them on this journey? Certainly with a royal visit there would be much to do and each character would most definitely be highlighted. There would be the formalities of the Crawley Family: planning, hosting, and attending all the royal events. And all of the staff would have great responsibility that would be of utmost importance during such a time: seeing to every corner of the house for cleanliness, perfecting food and serving, seeing to every task with great detail and efficiency. Everyone would need to be at the top of their game.

One of the thoughts that passed through my head as each storyline developed was: well, this has to wrap up within two hours! I enjoy a bit of drama as much as the next person but waiting an entire season or even two or three for an arc to sort itself out can be torturous for emotionally-invested fans. The freedom and justice for Mr. & Mrs. Bates… a happy ending for Edith… Daisy to stop whining… fans waited a long time for all of these things over 6 seasons. So when Tom got mixed with a troublemaker or Daisy made her beau jealous or Anna noticed items were stolen or Edith’s dress turned into a disaster or the Downton staff and royal staff butted heads or Mr. Barrow was arrested or a mysterious maid was in the middle of an heir scandal…..I was relieved to know that all loose ends would be tied sooner rather than later.

I must say that there was a comfort in the transition from television to movie. It felt as if I was watching another episode, like normal, on my couch at home (partly because of the luxury recliners at my local theater) but on a larger scale. I liked knowing these characters and even the storyteller well enough to know where everything was going. I think it’s refreshing to mostly see the next part coming before it happens. The storytelling is seamless and naturally progressing, it’s so easy to enjoy a movie like this! Often times, shock value comes at a cost of mediocrity in other parts of a project. How many times have you watched a movie that had an awesome ending but you’ll probably never see it again? That’s because the end doesn’t justify the means. Downton Abbey is a guilty pleasure for a reason. Yes, it’s basically a british soap opera but rich in content. It’s self-indulgent to see the love story develop, the underdog prevail, good beat evil, and know an end is never really over.

I was so glad to see the entire cast come back together for this. Personally I think any one of them would have been noticeably missing. Albeit tiny, I had hope that maybe Matthew or Edith would make an appearance in a dream or flashback. Or a visit from Rose. After seeing the movie though, I’m fine without having that. It was splendid just the way it was. Plus, it was focused mostly on being cheerful during the duration of the film. I was also thrilled to see where their lives picked up at. I suspect around three years had passed. The Bates’ son was a toddler, Mary’s new child had been born, and Daisy and Andrew were talking about getting married. Now with where we’re leaving it, it would be a joy to see what happens if/when we ever meet these characters again.

Now as for some favorites: The opening segment was among my favorite scenes. I suppose mostly because I was in disbelief that this was actually happening but as I said before I really did love the way it was set up. The music, the escalation of wonder watching the transportation of this letter, the cinematography of “Downton Abbey” aka Highclere Castle, and the introduction reintroduction of old characters! I practically wanted to do intro applause for all of them. I couldn’t stop smiling for a solid five minutes into the movie.

Did anyone else get a kick out of seeing Maggie Smith and Imelda Staunton at odds again? I’m not sure if it was intentional or maybe I’m just reaching a bit, but was that a Harry Potter reference thrown in there? When Lady Bagshaw and Violet greet each other in front of the house one of them say something like, “I hope this visit will be better than the last time we saw one another.” As we know, the last time the two actresses were on screen together, it was in the middle of a war.

Speaking of scenes that remind me of Harry Potter, I rather enjoyed the secret meeting of the Downton staff to take back the house. There was something epic about it but in great spirits! Similarly, the scene where Molesley says that it was the Downton staff that were serving. I didn’t know whether to beam in pride for Molesley’s pride, to look away from the poor fellow’s misery, or just as I did… laugh to tears at the awkwardness! Might I add, I also loved seeing the staff’s etiquette at it’s very best. When the women saw the men off to serve the King and Queen for dinner, I nearly wept at the honor shining through.

Although I was tremendously disappointed to see so little of Matthew Goode, I am grateful that he was featured at all. His scenes were worth the wait though! It seems like such a small detail but I rather liked seeing him run up the stairs to his wife. Seeing them reunite and kiss just shows how much this couple truly love and care for each other. And how could I not mention the ball as one of my favorites? The pomp and circumstance of it all! I got chills watching the dancing and hearing the music. I didn’t think I’d ship Tom with anyone else but I actually really like Lucy. I like her story and the chemistry the two have together. The footage of them dancing was gorgeous!

Possibly my favorite scene of the whole film was the heart-to-heart conversation between Mary and her beloved granny. The tears were so heartfelt, who could not cry? That whole scene felt so true and real. I thought it was a beautiful way to end along with the final bit between Mr. & Mrs. Carson. Downton will go forward, the Crawley family will remain, and all will be well.

“Should auld acquaintance be forgot, and never brought to mind?” Surely not! It goes without saying but I highly recommend racing over to your local movie theater to see Downton Abbey while it’s still in cinemas. You have to see this movie on the big screen. It really added to the already exquisite pageantry. Buy tickets here and check out the trailer below!

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mrmichaelchadler · 6 years

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Peeling Back the True Horror of The Little Stranger

There's a sinister secret nested snugly at the center of Lenny Abrahamson's "The Little Stranger." In trailers, this adaptation of Sarah Waters' novel seems a spooky haunted house tale set in the austere decadence of early Windsor-era England. For most of its runtime, the film appears a gothic romance in which the mild-mannered Doctor Faraday (Domhnall Gleeson) must combat the unknown evil inhabiting the illustrious Hundreds Hall so he might marry its gruff but lovable heiress, Caroline Ayres (Ruth Wilson). But the haunting final image of "The Little Stranger" reveals something more cerebral and starkly feminist is at play within this unconventional horror story.

"The Little Stranger" reveals the Ayres tragedy through the eyes of Faraday, a "common village boy" who grew up in the shadow of Hundreds Hall and became a respected doctor with a gentleman's manners. Through a reserved voiceover, he introduces audiences to the once affluent family whose fortunes have fallen—as their once pristine home has—into ruin. Still, Faraday is enchanted by the old house and by Caroline, a "terribly brainy girl" on the verge of spinsterhood, having squandered her promise and youth looking after her mother (Charlotte Rampling) and war-wounded brother Roderick (Will Poulter). Stoic and stalwart, Faraday provides a shoulder to cry on, a voice of reason, and even his hand in marriage. But he is not to be trusted by the Ayres or us. For Faraday is not the romantic hero he paints himself as, but an unreliable narrator and the source of the spiteful spirit that torments the Ayres to death because of a ferocious form of toxic masculinity.

The final shot of the film reveals that the poltergeist of Hundreds Halls was a manifestation of Faraday's decades-long desire to possess the grand home. His passion for the place grew into an intense sense of male entitlement, believing deeply he was owed the thing as a reward for wanting it so desperately. And so a territorial and violent force was sparked. Over drinks, a colleague explains that extreme negative emotions can cause a subconscious break that could birth a poltergeist. For Faraday, this fateful moment occurred 30 years before, when he first snuck into the exquisite foyer of Hundreds Hall and broke a plaster acorn from its elaborate décor. In flashback, a foreboding rumbling precedes the horrid crack of plaster. Recalling it to Caroline, he rationalizes, "I wasn't trying to vandalize. I was overcome." Faraday compares himself to a lovesick man stealing a lock of hair from the woman he fancies. Caught up in his own desires, he ignores the violation and theft entailed in each act, reframing it as romantic and himself as the helpless victim of passion. As absurd as it seems, Faraday basically victim blames the house for his violation of it, suggesting Hundreds Hall was dressed too provocatively to be left unmolested.

Faraday believes his passion for the house excuses this crime. But there will be more. And they will become more violent. The first victim of his poltergeist is young Suki Ayres, punished for witnessing his embarrassment at being slapped by his mother for his vandalism. Mrs. Ayres notes that was the very day her beloved first-born became mysteriously ill, before withering away to death. While Faraday went off to grow up and become a doctor, his poltergeist has lurked in the house, quietly resenting its residents. Upon his return to the village, the paranormal activity at the Hundreds Hall becomes more aggressive, a coincidence Caroline remarks on without understanding its significance. It was a poltergeist outburst that led to Betty calling for a doctor, which brought Faraday to the Ayres door. Every paranormal event after that can be seen as violent retaliations whenever Faraday feels rejected.

The first comes during a cocktail party, where a little girl is abruptly mauled by Caroline's dog. The timing suggests this is no accident. Though the girl has been pestering the pet relentlessly, its off-screen attack occurs the moment after Faraday realizes the event is a matchmaking setup meant to pair Caroline with an arrogant, new-money ad-man. The hurt to his pride is taken out on the pretty blond girl, just as it was with Suki. The gruesome and inexplicable assault benefits Faraday three-fold. It scares off the would-be suitor, gives the doctor a chance to impress by swooping in to mend the wounded child, and offers an excuse to euthanize Caroline's beloved pet, eliminating one more rival for her affections. Whether Faraday realizes it or not, he is working in tandem with his poltergeist to achieve Hundreds Hall. When the polite and socially acceptable methods fail, his subconscious lashes out in violence. And their next obstacle and target will be Rod.

Through voiceover, Faraday expresses a thinly veiled disdain for the limping man of the house, sneering, "I couldn't help but think the house deserved better." Implied is that Faraday is the better the house deserves. After all, Faraday is a dapper and dashing gentleman, while Rod a marred, drunken recluse with no hopes of finding a wife. Using his position as a trusted friend of the family and respected doctor, Faraday pushes to have Rod committed, arguing his plans to sell off part of the estate are deranged. When this fails, his poltergeist sets Rod's bedroom ablaze, nearly killing him and making him seem an unhinged danger to himself and others. So, Mrs. Ayres and Caroline take Faraday's recommendation and have their lone male heir exiled. The very next scene shows Faraday, smiling like the cat who caught the canary, as he cuts the Christmas roast. Blithely taking over the role of man of the house, he rejoices in voiceover, "It made me feel—just for a moment—a part of the life of the house."

With Rod out of the way, Faraday ramps up his efforts to woo and wed Caroline, taking her to a dance, where his POV shot of watching her dance feels ominous, like a predator zeroing in on his prey. "What the house needs is a dose of happiness," he crows in his marriage proposal. But after Mrs. Ayres makes it clear that Faraday would only get this house over her dead body, his poltergeist terrorizes her with chilling sounds and vicious cuts, driving her to suicide. And once Caroline rejects him too, her death is imminent.

After she breaks off their engagement, Faraday laments, "Hundreds Hall was lost to me … as was Caroline." At this moment, our unreliable narrator's true priorities are laid bare. This was never a love story about boy meets girl, but boy meets house. Caroline was a tool to him. That the object of Faraday's desires is a house and not actually Caroline emphasizes the dehumanizing nature of male entitlement, as entitled men do not regard the women they crave as people who have autonomy and the right to reject them, but as a thing they can grab. Their desire outweighs the feelings of its object. But once Faraday realizes that his manipulations and social niceties have failed to win him the prize of the girl—and by extension the house—his cool veneer cracks, unleashing into a flurry of fists and shouting in his car while his poltergeist pushes Caroline to her fatal fall off the balcony.

Through his plaintive voiceover, Faraday would have us believe that he is a romantic hero who fought for love and lost. He and his poltergeist never come face-to-face in the film, so perhaps he truly believes it. But "The Little Stranger" sees through his subterfuge. For even if Faraday is completely ignorant of how his true intentions influence the poltergeist, he knowingly uses his position of power as a doctor, a friend, and a gentleman to manipulate the Ayres to reach for his goal, no matter the cost. Yet there are moments where it seems he has some hint.

Looking back on his first day at Hundreds Hall, Faraday says, "I could not help but imagine I belonged. A proper little gentleman. Of course, I was no such thing." On the surface, it appears he's speaking about how his clothes made this commoner seem suitably posh. But on reflection, this line also speaks to his façade of gentility in adulthood. Outwardly, Faraday is calm, patient, and magnanimous toward the Ayres family. Hidden is his dangerous dark side that would rather see them dead than reject him, that would rather see Hundreds Hall abandoned than without him. Worse still, Faraday gets away with all his crimes, because who would believe such a nice, respectable man could be capable of such evil?

"The Little Stranger" is a horror story not about evil spirits or haunted houses, but about the too real terror born from toxic masculinity, which blinds men to their trespasses and threatens women with objectification and violence. The film sounds a warning, begging some to look past the nice guy veneers, and others to search the darkest corners of their desires. For we are not always the heroes we imagine ourselves to be.

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